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teenyweenynightghost · 3 years

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As lucky as the rainbow

A/n: Im sorry. Also. Special dedication to the love of my life, @cantaraiilmionome , who let me write this fic

Warnings: Smut

Word Count: 1.7K

Pairing: Vic X Fem!Reader

Taglist: @fuckim-so-gay @ginny-lily @messyhairday-me @cheese-toastie-11 @wannabemarlenabutiscoraline @simp-per-ethan @maneskinrollercoaster @juststalking @superchrystaldrug @immrbrightsideeee @shehaddreamstoo @tiaamberxx @victoriadeangeliswifey @bidet-and-legolas @makapaka11

My heartbeat was wild and mostly erupting from my chest as the whole world around me seemed to quiet down. The mesh shirt I was wearing was already crumpled from all the times I had fiddled with it nervously. To be honest, could anyone really blame me? I have been obsessed with Måneskin for ages, and I finally get to see them live. A small, really pesky part of my brain kept bugging me. They would have no reason to like or notice you; why are you even here? Well, that definitely did not help the anxious feeling growing in my stomach.

Suddenly, the crowd erupted in cheers as four rock stars appeared on the stage.

And oh god what they were wearing. A certain blonde caught my attention, one who I was more than familiar with. Victoria strutted on the stage, her bass strap wrapped around her, as a small corset did nothing to cover her. Two black stripes of tape covered each of her boobs and she looked celestial. It was unfair to everyone else! How could she just look like that!?

“Is everyone ready?” Damiano’s strong voice sounded out of the speakers, earning an excited cheer from everyone.

As they started playing, I realised I was no longer anxious. Moving from side to side and jumping along with them, It felt as If the world stopped temporarily just for me to enjoy this moment. It was truly heaven, and their magnetic presence made it infinitely better.

“Now, for a fan favorite…” Damiano spoke into the mic, soon interrupted by the all too familiar notes of For Your Love. Oh god.

I couldn’t decide who to pay attention to; Ethan’s godly form playing the drums in a way I wished he would play my ass, Thomas’ talented fingers strumming the guitar chords, Damiano fucking the stage while singing or-

Oh.

I was one of the lucky ones who got to sit up front. So my view of Victoria was truly a dream come true. Her eyes were closed as she thrusted into the air, her hips moving with precision and skill, as she moved her head backwards in rhythm with the song. Two of her fingers were plucking the chords, clouding my mind with thoughts of what else she could do with them.

The whole song became a vivid fantasy for me, as I kept watching Victoria play, entranced by her sensuality. The song sadly came to a stop, and Damiano started speaking again. My lovely brain, however, could only gaze at Victoria, her wonderful top and fingers.

As If on cue, she knelt down right at the edge of the stage, and winked at me. Wait, she did what? My brain stopped functioning as I kept staring at her, eyes comically wide and mouth hanging open.

She smirked at my reaction, and motioned for me to come closer with her finger. A bodyguard came and opened the barrier, as I made my way through.

I was right in front of the stage, looking in her icy blue eyes. She leaned down and cupped my cheek, shaking it softly.

“Wanna stay here, cucciola?” She asked, a sultry smile appearing on her face. I nodded eagerly, causing her to laugh, before returning to her band.

The rest of the concert managed to make me so wet I was convinced my knees would give in the second I would try to walk. Between Victoria grinding on the floor right in front of me, making sure to stare right in my eyes, Damiano jumping in the crowd and grabbing Thomas, as well as Ethan being an overall god-like presence.

It was, however, over, as soon as it started. My face fell as they all waved their goodbyes to the crowd, and I turned around, preparing to leave, but was soon interrupted by a guard.

“Miss De Angelis said that she would like you to go backstage.”

That was the second time the girl’s actions shocked me. I certainly hoped it wouldn’t be the last as I followed the guard to the back.

“Ah, there you are, cucciola!” Her raspy voice exclaimed, as she headed towards me and grabbed my waist, leading me towards a changing room before I could even mutter a word.

“You, I me- mean ...Why? Like… I just thi-I” Damn it, where was my wittiness when I needed it? If I wasn’t already blushing, I probably looked like a sweaty tomato right now.

“Oh darling, I suggest you figure out how to talk, so I’ll know how to please you later.” She murmured in my ear, my knees almost giving up at her words.

“Oh god, umm, I- hi.” I managed to let out. I’m so glad I could ramble about crystals for 3 hours but when It comes to basic greetings my mind just dips. Lovely.

“We have about 15 minutes before we need to leave.” She said, grabbing my body and pulling me right against her, softly nibbling on my neck.

“Considering the way you fucked the stage earlier, I think even 5 would suffice.” Ah yes, my brain was back. Temporarily, though, because Victoria’s hungry lips smashed into mine in a fraction of a second, quickly turning me around so I would be prompted against the wall.

We moved in sync as she sucked every breath out of me and explored my mouth with her tongue. She bit my lip hard, and licked the reddish spot which appeared, before moving onto my neck.

She sucked on every inch of my skin, leaving deep red marks in her wake, which would definitely be an interesting subject of discussion once I got home. I couldn’t help but let out the most pathetic whines, which only seemed to turn Victoria on more.

“So fucking desperate puppy. All I do is dance a little on stage and you’re already willing to be on your knees for me.” She purred right against my breast, earning a deep moan from my treacherous mouth,

“What can I say, I like being a good girl.”

Her mouth bit into the soft skin which was now exposed, as my poor shirt was laying on the floor, discarded seconds ago. I whimpered and bucked my hips into the air, whining even more at the realisation that there was nothing there.

“Please..” I begged, as she kept kissing and licking around my hardened buds, heating me up even more.

“Take your pants off, then” She instructed, and I did it in a heartbeat, the piece of clothing joining my shirt.

The last thing I saw was the blonde’s head lower , before her tongue finally gave me what I wanted. She swiped it deeply inside of me, humming at the liquids pouring from me. Moving to my clit, she started circling around it as one of her long fingers thrusted deep inside of me.

“Fuck… Victoria…”

She added another finger and quickened her pace, as I rapidly approached my edge. God, no one did it as well as her. She was getting rougher by the second, biting at my thighs and sucking hardly, until she heard my breath catch, before I erupted in a mess of loud moans and screams.

I came hard on her hand as she guided me down to the ground, licking the tears falling from my eyes.

“You really do like being a good girl.” She whispered, cupping my cheek and pressing a soft kiss on my puffy lips.

“Oh I can be bad too.” I smirked, watching as her eyes darkened.”

“How about you return to the hotel with me, and we can explore that talent too…”

***

More than half an hour had passed, and I was sitting in an Uber right next to Victoria. While the band packed up their stuff, I hung out on the stage, eating a popsicle Damiano had given me.

“Do you have to be anywhere early tomorrow?” Victoria’s voice interrupted my thoughts, softly grazing her fingers over my thighs.

“Like I wouldn’t cancel them for you.” I responded, earning a soft chuckle from her.

“Excellent. How about we talk a little then, hmm?” She asked, pulling me closer to her.

“About what?” I asked, clearly thinking of innocent topics.

“Which was your favourite part about how I fucked you backstage.”

Oh. My. God. At this point, my brain had stopped working so many times, I probably had approximately 2 brain cells left. And damn, I answered in a corresponding fashion.

“I must say I enjoyed the talking.”

Victoria laughed, a devilish grin forming on her face, as I bet her mind filled with the dirtiest ideas.

“I’ll take your word for it. I’ll make sure we’ll do just enough talking.”

“Wait no- You know, I really liked the cum part too.” I tried to save myself, because let’s be honest, If this woman was anything, it was a tease.

“Considering how loud you were moaning, I bet you were.” She purred again, dragging her fingers further up my thighs.

“Tell me, what did you fantasise about most while watching me play?”

My mind went blank, but not really, as the thought of her grinding on my face while practicing the bass made its way into my head. God, I was royally fucked.

“Tell me, pet.” She snarled against my neck, grabbing it roughly and bending me over.

Her hand wandered down to my ass, grabbing it roughly before slithering back around to my stomach, and pulling me up again.

“Practicing your bass on my face.” I moaned out, red and embarrassed.

“A lovely imagination you have. I’ll make sure to consult it more often.”

“That won’t work. It seems to go blank around you.”

Victoria smirked at my confession and pressed me down onto her lap, slowly working her way under my shirt.

“I really like this. Where did you get it?”

“My mom.”

“She wears this?”

Fuck. “Oh, you meant the shirt?”

Scoffing and rolling her eyes, she pulled the material up, and pressed a wet kiss to both of my breasts. Oh god, this girl would kill me.

“My special thanks to her. And also my apologies, because I’ll fuck you till you scream and cry tonight.”

#victoria de angelis #vic x reader #maneskin fic #maneskin #ethan torchio #damiano david #thomas raggi #this was fun #smut

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garrothromeave · 4 years

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let’s talk about minecraft diaries rebirth.

and why it’s literally amazing. (warning: this will contain spoilers. lots of them. also, long post ahead.)

i think a lot of people hate mcdr because they were expecting a remake; but the point of rebirth is for jess to rewrite it. it wasn't supposed to be exactly the same.

honestly i went into mcdr with a closed mind. as an og mcd fan, i thought that this was going to suck ass and that i'd rant about how bad it was to my friends later. but actually watching it, i just... couldn't help but immediately fall in love with it.

ik im probably the only motherfucker that likes mcdr, but honestly how could i not? for one, garroth and zenix actually have personalities at the beginning. AND; the villagers? actually amazing. donna made me smile, visher made me laugh and cry, brendan was just bein as good as ever. like... i even didn't despise emmalyn with every ounce of my soul like i usually do?? the characterizations of them were GOOD, man.

and honestly, aphmau like--the way she spoke, her whole thing. it was reallyyy well done in my opinion. she was oblivious to things, but it wasn't overdone and wasn't done in a way to make her annoying. she's a very appealing character in mcdr, a main protagonist i do not mind following along with. her dynamics to the characters are really cool and all very unique. gonna cut it here so i don’t clog y’all’s feed cuz i got a lot to say :)

the early use of aphmau’s powers was actually pretty cool as well, it also really showed how clueless aphmau really was to everything going on around her. AND UH, THE FACT THAT SHE THOUGHT THAT GARROTH FELT FAMILIAR? GOLDEN. absolutely golden.

AND GENE OH BOY, the early introduction of gene? ik a lot of people are upset about it, but god DAMN i love it so much. his role in the story is very important in original, and i cannot express how much joy this brought me learning that he was actually getting the proper attention for it. and the fact that gene and aphmau were working together?? i mean ik gene was just trying to use her to get back to the "shadow abyss" (pretty pog replacement for the nether, gg) but god DAMN i loved every moment of it. i found their dynamic to be pretty fuckin funny to be honest, would absolutely love to see more of it.

i might be biased considering gene is one of my absolute favorite characters, but i honestly think that introducing gene this early on in the story was a good move. again, he's literally the right-hand man to the shadow lord. it makes you really wonder why he didn't have as much of an important role in season 1 or even 2 of the original mcd plotline. also, we get some of that good-ol-fashioned exposition with seeing early on how vylad and gene interact. vylad’s at a very strange point in the story right now; his motives are unclear, even to the side he’s ‘supposed’ to be taking (aka, a shadow knight.) another early introduction to a character is zane! this, my friends, is good. really good. i’d say that zane is the main antagonist of season 1 in the original series--and he wasn’t even introduced until like, episode 50. it’s not necessarily a bad thing, but him being introduced this early on really gives the audience a better understanding of what threats are out there and what our protagonist will have to encounter in the future. in the original series, there’s not much explanation as to why lords are disappearing/dying left and right--and while yes, that was supposed to be the mystery of it, having some of that early information is a better move in terms of writing.

AND IVAN?? BEING A PART OF THE JURY OF NINE?? I COULD NOT HAVE ASKED FOR ANYTHING MORE LIKE GOD DAMN that was a very pleasant surprise i'll just say that, thank you jess :)

and no i did not loop the 4 minutes of screentime laurance got in that one episode haha who would do that i would never do that anyways

SPEAKING of laurance, im so glad jess actually wrote him in this early :) she totally could have just waited for the first time aphmau visits meteli and meets him there, but no! she put him in an early episode. i dont even care if she did it just to shut up the fans about laurance but man that made me so happy seeing him, even if it was only for a bit.

okay i kinda wanna go over the guards real fast firstly; garroth. ignoring how weird the helmet showing emotions is, i really like how garroth is portrayed. he's under a lot of pressure because the village is putting a lot of the blame on him for malik's death, and he's trying his hardest to keep things running. the fact that garroth utterly refused the to take up the position of lord and even got a little snappy about it was actually really cool to see as well. and while he doesn’t have that same “reserved, quiet, observant” feel as the original mcd version of him had, this version of garroth is absolutely awesome. he’s more direct and blunt, is significantly more sarcastic, and isn’t as stiff or as much as a pushover as he is in the original. he even has a sense of humour. also, no homo, but he’s kinda adorable. plus, the desperation that he goes through during the whole thing is just--it’s really cool to see how hard he’s trying to prove himself and help the village. my rating for mcdr garroth? 9/10. the helmet... the helmet is the main thing throwin me off, i can’t lie. next, zenix. oh BOY do i have a lot to say about this man. first of all, his and garroth’s dynamic is incredible. when i saw how the interacted with each other, my first thought was: father and son. zenix has this immaturity to him that is so fucking fun and interesting to watch, and seeing how garroth scolds him is so fuckin good man. and! seeing how he interacts with the rest of the village... honestly, if jess ever picks this story up again, i would probably cry when zenix (literally) backstabs garroth. HELL, i hope that’s something that still happens, it’d be heartbreaking to witness this character that we’ve come to love hurting his mentor, the man who took him in. he’s just a really good character all in all, and much more appealing than the original mcd zenix. ...except season 3 zenix. no zenix can be better than that one. either way, zenix is amazing written to be the comic relief and he’s just an all-out lovable character in this series. finally, dale and brian. yes i’m going to group them up because there’s not much to say regarding them, but i do want to address them. for starters, we have brian; who’s already 16 when the story starts. good on jess for doing that, because in the original aphmau watched brian be born and age INCREDIBLY quick, haha. THOUGH i do feel like there’s a slight connection lost there--one of the hardest things about brian’s betrayal in the original series in the fact that we watched him grow up in phoenix drop. we were there from the moment he was born, to the second he betrayed phoenix drop. BUT OF COURSE, this version is a lot more realistic, so it’s understandable. i just think that if it’s brian who’ll be betraying phoenix drop again (if it even goes down that same route), it won’t hit as hard unless jess really takes the time to grow the connection between brian and aphmau. as for dale; gotta admit, love it. and like, i think one of the main things about how good of a call it was to make him a drunkard from the beginning is considering how much the village is struggling. the fact that the second-in-command is literally drunk all of the time really conveys the message of, “yeah. this village needs help.” plus, he’s another good comic relief character. i loved seeing molly and dale’s relationship too, it was very funny. PLUS. we were blessed with a well scene, in which aphmau had to help villagers out of the well. i don’t know about you guys, but that was one of my favorite nods to the original series. i cannot thank jess enough for that, there was a smile on my face the entire time. another amazing thing--visher’s character. instead of just being introduced to this quirky lil merchant who only had one or two interactions with aphmau like in the first one, we got to sit there and really get a feel for someone worth remembering and worth mourning over. we had a reason to be sad over his death, it wasn’t just some npc getting blown up suddenly. this was different, and this hurt. one of the major things that i hope is to come out of this is for jess to fix the major mistakes she had when writing the first series. she’d expressed how unhappy she was with some of the decisions she made, and i’m glad that she’s getting that second chance to undo the things she didn’t like. this series also gives her a second chance to really, really dig into characters and their motives. like, gimme laurance backstory in better detail. or like, garroth and zane’s relationship from back when they were kids? or how vylad died and who killed him? etc etc. she’s already done an excellent job so far, and i can’t wait to see where this goes. that is, if she ever continues it. god, i wish there were more episodes so that i could seriously let you guys know how beautiful of a series this is. there’s so much i want to say about rebirth, but i think i’ll stop here. i might say some more shit about it later, but if there’s anything i’d want you to take away from this, it’s: give minecraft diaries rebirth a chance. there’s a lot of potential, and this is a chance for jess to really change things for the better! ... but again, that is if this ever is continued.

#aphmau #minecraft diaries #minecraft diaries rebirth #garroth #laurance #gene #zenix #vylad #rant

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thecomicsnexus · 3 years

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FANTASTIC FOUR #1-4 BY MARK WAID & MIKE WIERINGO FANTASTIC FOUR VOL. 3 #60-70, VOL. 1 #500-524 OCTOBER 2002 - MAY 2005 BY MARK WAID, MIKE WIERINGO, KARL KESEL, MARK BUCKINGHAM, CASEY JONES, HOWARD PORTER, PACO MEDINA, KARL KESEL, JUAN VLASCO, NORM RAPMUND, LARRY STUCKER, DANNY MIKI, ALLEN MARTINEZ, PAUL MOUNTS, AVALON STUDIOS, MATT MILLA, RANDY GENTILE, RUSS WOOTON, CHRIS ELIOPOULOS, RICHARD STARKINGS, ALBERT DESCHESNE, RICHARD ISANOVE, GENE HA, MORRY HOLLOWELL, TONY HARRIS AND TOM FEISTER

Sue thinks it is time to help her brother take more responsibilities in life, so he becomes a CEO... and eventually... a herald. Reed and Doom have the ultimate fight that will put the Fantastic Four against the free world, and the Thing will have to make a very difficult choice.

SCORE: 9

Mike Wieringo is probably my favorite penciller of all time. This started in early 1996, when I found out about him in the Robin solo title. Soon after that, I started finding his art in some Amalgam, Marvel, and more DC Comics (including that Rogue mini-series).

It was a big shock when he died. I believe he was a vegetarian and he exercised often, yet he died of a heart attack. Proof that you can never be too safe. In any case, his death was really sad at the time, especially because it meant I would never see his artwork again. What I wasn’t aware until that moment, was that he was working on Fantastic Four (or he used to, this run took place during my college years, so I kind of missed on a lot comics). It wasn’t until a couple of months ago that I decided to hunt down these books and read them.

I mean, they include Mark Waid, who is probably my favorite Flash writer of all time (ironically, both of them worked on The Flash). The first book also prints their first collaboration, Avengers #400, which I am not including in the score. That may be their first collaboration at Marvel, but I already saw them create Impulse back in 1994, so the two worked together before.

The only reason these volumes are not a perfect 10, is that some plot elements are not as accessible as you’d expect. Valeria’s origin in particular, which I believe happened, right before this run. It could be a small thing, but it is kind of important for the Doctor Doom plot.

Wieringo is not in charge of penciling all the issues, but I think he does the majority of them (Paco Medina and Howard Porter have small arcs each).

I think all the characters have their moments in this run, but Johnny Storm seems to have the biggest development. He is put in charge of Fantastic Four Inc. and eventually becomes Galactus Herald, helping transform him into a human.

Not only that, by exchanging powers with Sue, she gets to understand him a lot better. I would say this story really redeems his character in many ways.

The second big character I would have to say is Reed. As usual, he has a very particular cold way of doing things, but we do get to see his reasoning, and most of the time, while his actions are cold, you can see his motivations are not.

His small run as Latveria´s authority (perhaps a take on the Authority), is full of surprises, and... to be honest... his tendency to sacrifice himself is usually not very smart.

Doctor Doom goes full sorcerer in this story as well... embracing magic to finally defeat Reed... traumatizing Franklin in the process. It’s a very dark arc actually.

As a result of Reed’s machinations to free Latveria, Ben dies. This is of course another reason for Reed to obsess over something, and he takes his family to the afterlife to bring him back.

There they meet Jack Kirby (who is one part of their gods, the other one being Stan Lee, who is not in heaven... I am going to assume... because he was still alive at the time). Still... there will always be tributes to Jack Kirby, and this one was very nice. He even undoes Reed’s disfiguration... it’s kind of a magical solution to a problem, but... I mean... who better to undo the damage than one of the creators of the Fantastic Four?

The panel after this one is of kids running away from Johnny... smart kids.

Anyway, I think the Galactus story was perfect to finish this run, especially during a time when the Avengers disassembled. It was the perfect opportunity for the Fantastic Four to regain the public’s trust after their diplomatic faux paus in Latveria.

The fact that Sue’s powers could hide planets from Galactus is an interesting development... but considering that now Galactus knows this... I wonder if it ever came up again after this run.

In any case, it is a run I recommend. And even though you kind of need to know some stuff before reading it... I think it is a good introduction to the Fantastic Four. This creative team knew what made them tick.

#fantastic four #marvel comics #2002 #2003 #2004 #2005 #modern age #mike wieringo

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love-little-lotte · 3 years

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Ranking the Bridgerton Books

I know I should write this in my book blog, but frankly, I have no idea how to make another section for it, and I'm too lazy to research. So, I'm writing here. Please bear with me.

Recently, I read the Bridgerton books by Julia Quinn. You might be familiar with the first book since it was adapted into a popular Netflix series by Shonda Rhimes. I binge-watched it back in December, and I have to say... not a fan. I guess I just find it too cheesy and annoying. Plus, the actors who portrayed Daphne and Simon had no romantic chemistry whatsoever.

But I'm not here to talk about the TV show. I'm here to talk about the novels! This is actually not my first time reading the books. Well, not exactly. I've read six out of the eight novels when I was in high school, I believe. I found the books when I was in high school as it was in the library (please don't ask me why my high school library has smutty novels in it, I have no idea who's in charge - they had Fifty Shades of Grey for a week but they eventually removed it from the catalog when they learned what's it about, but I digress). As a fifteen-year-old girl, the series hooked me.

If you're not familiar with the books or the Netflix series, here's a short synopsis: Set in the Regency era, the Bridgertons are one of the most influential families of the ton. The books follow the love stories of the eight Bridgerton siblings, alphabetically named Anthony, Benedict, Colin, Daphne, Eloise, Francesca, Gregory, and Hyacinth.

I didn't read it in chronological order back then, though. I just borrowed any available Bridgerton book in the library if there's one. You might think I was too young to read a romantic novel like that, but I guess I was mature enough to understand it.

Rereading it now that I'm twenty-two (cue Taylor Swift!), my heart's not in the same place. I was more skeptical with the writing, the story, and, most especially, the characters. But, really, I'm not that heartless, so I will cut the author some slack. Quinn wrote this at a different time for a different audience. It's not that long ago, but you'd be surprised how fast things change.

However, even though I have major criticisms, I cannot stop reading them. There's something about the novels that put me in a chokehold. Despite everything, I was able to enjoy it overall. This series is the definition of "guilty pleasure."

Anyway, here's my ranking of the Bridgerton books! I only read the eight main ones, which means I didn't include novellas of any kind. Also, as a fair warning, I might discuss spoilers and whatnot, so please beware. And do keep in mind that I'm writing my opinion, so if you don't agree, well... tough. I'd like to hear your comments, though, if you have any.

#8 - An Offer From A Gentleman (Book 3)

Honestly, this was probably one of my favorite Bridgerton books when I was younger. A Cinderella retelling? Come on! As someone who loves fairytales and forbidden romances, this was supposed to be heaven. However... it was not.

Benedict may be my least favorite Bridgerton brother. No, scratch that - he is my least favorite Bridgerton out of all of them. He's whiny and creepy and I was plainly annoyed with how he keeps asking Sophie to be his mistress in the novel. This was not the gentleman I imagined when I was younger. I might have liked him more in the first few parts, but as the story progressed, he became too childish and obsessive. Sophie, on the other hand, was all right. She's definitely one of my favorite Bridgerton heroines. She was tough but kind in her own way. I wish she had a better partner than Benedict, but I guess they suit each other in the end.

I just detest the climax and the ending of this book. It was too comical - and not in a hilarious way. I guess the same could be said for the entire novel. This was so, so different from the rest, to be honest.

Overall Rating: 3/10

#7 - On The Way To The Wedding (Book 8)

Fun fact: this is the first Bridgerton novel I read. And even then, I wasn't a huge fan of it. Just like An Offer From A Gentleman, the climax was a bit silly but more in a soap opera level than comical.

The biggest factor why I didn't like this was the characters. They were all so bland. Especially our hero and heroine. Gregory is the least featured Bridgerton in the novel, so I don't really know what to make of him at the beginning of the novel. In his book, I learned that he was a good guy - and that's all. Maybe he's too young and naive when it comes to romance (which is endearing, I have to admit), but he has no interesting personality whatsoever. Lucy, the heroine in this novel, was the same. She was described as pragmatic and sensible, which perfectly sums her up. Also, she's a great friend to Hermione (whose last name is Watson, by the way, and you can't tell me otherwise that this isn't a Harry Potter reference - Hermione Granger and Emma Watson? If that's not a reference, well, that's a very crazy coincidence, but I digress again). Gregory and Lucy's story was average - not bad, not good, just so incredibly dull.

The fun parts started way too early. It was difficult to find intrigue in the middle and end bits. The second main conflict, which happened near the end of the book, was truthfully not that good and was just obviously a ploy to keep things longer. You'd think that the Bridgerton novels would end the series with a bang. Alas, it did not.

Overall Rating: 4/10

#6 - To Sir Phillip, With Love (Book 5)

Eloise finally gets her turn in her own love story. She used to be one of my favorite Bridgertons, but when she got her own story, she was reduced into a plain girl. Gone was the feisty and outspoken Eloise we knew from the previous books.

Maybe it's because she's paired up with one of the most insufferable Bridgerton heroes, Sir Phillip. Just an inch away from Benedict, Sir Phillip maybe my next least favorite character. And it annoys me so much that Eloise gets to fall in love with someone like him.

It actually started pretty well. Before the events in the book started, Eloise and Phillip had already been corresponding for a year through letters. Phillip was on the lookout for - not a wife - but a mother for his two unruly children, and he thought Eloise was perfect for the role. He's a terrible father, but the book tries to convince us that it's not his fault because he had a bad upbringing by his own father (a recurring theme in the Bridgerton books - four heroes are plagued with different daddy issues). Eloise tried her best to turn things around, and of course, she eventually did, but I just really hate Phillip's initial intentions for seeking out a wife. He gets better in the end, sure, but I still really don't like him. At least the book wasn't short of excitement, else it would've been rated a bit lower.

Obviously, my favorite part in this book was when the Bridgerton brothers stormed into Phillip's house. He got what he deserved, truly.

Overall Rating: 4/10

#5 - The Duke and I (Book 1)

Now, this is the most well-known story in the Bridgerton literary universe, thanks to the Netflix series. I know I've said that I wasn't a fan of the series, but really, the Netflix writers and producers deserve all the gold in the world because they managed to transform this novel into something exciting.

Daphne and Simon had their moments, that's for sure, but as a couple, they were just so... meh. I liked their relationship at the start when they were still pretending to be courting. But as soon as they got married, everything interesting about the two of them sizzled out. And please don't get me started with how Daphne "took advantage" of drunk Simon. Thank God the show fixed that.

Despite my mixed feelings, this was a decent start to the Bridgerton books. There's really nothing majorly wrong about this novel (except for the aforementioned "taking advantage.") It laid out the future characters well. Lady Whistledown was also great. Thinking about her made me miss her because she wasn't featured in the later novels (you'll soon find out why).

Overall Rating: 5/10

#4 - It's In His Kiss (Book 7)

Since Eloise was stripped away from her feistiness when she got her own love story, I was obviously worried for Hyacinth. Thankfully, she didn't change! She was still the same tactless girl in the previous books. And for that, she gets to be my champion as my favorite Bridgerton.

This is the first time I've read this book, and oh, I'm surprised with how exciting it was. Hyacinth's hero, Gareth, perfectly suited her. Gareth was able to tame her impulsiveness, while also proving to be a good romantic partner for her. I loved that he could match her intellectually, too. It was never a bore whenever they have one of their silly banters. Lady Danbury was also featured more in this novel. She's one of my favorite side characters. As Gareth's grandmother, she was determined to bring him and Hyacinth together.

Maybe the only criticism I have in this novel is Gareth's issues with his father. I find it really weird that most of the heroes' problems are with their fathers. It just seemed lazy writing, in my opinion. But oh well, Gareth was interesting in his own way and that's perfectly fine.

Overall Rating: 6/10

#3 - Romancing Mister Bridgerton (Book 4)

I have a feeling that this is Quinn's favorite Bridgerton book. In this book, it's Colin's turn to find love. Colin is featured in several of his siblings' stories - in fact, in almost all of the books, he had an important role to play.

I love Colin and Penelope's story. Long before this book, they already knew each other. Penelope was Eloise's best friend, and she's almost always in the Bridgerton household. Colin has been forced by his mother for God knows how long to dance with Penelope every time there's a party. But it was only now that they became closer. Unbeknownst to Colin, Penelope had been in love with him for half her life, even though he didn't particularly care for her. Penelope speaks for all of us who know about unrequited love all too well.

Furthermore, this is the novel where they finally reveal who was behind the Lady Whistledown column. Yes, viewers of the Netflix series who are not familiar with the books. This is the part - and not in the first book! I'm so mad that they revealed Penelope as Lady Whistledown in the first season of the series, when in fact it's much later than that.

However, that's also one of the lowest points of this novel for me. Lady Whistledown's identity reveal was a bit anti-climactic. A little bit laughable, even. Also, also, also: I hated Colin's reaction to Penelope's secret. He didn't have to be angry and jealous of her, but ah well, whatever makes for conflict. Nevertheless, I love both Colin and Penelope because they had so much character and depth. Quinn was certainly biased when she wrote this.

Overall Rating: 8/10

#2 - The Viscount Who Loved Me (Book 2)

Remember earlier when I said that I cannot stop reading the books because even though I knew it wasn't that good, it was still highly enjoyable? Well, I'm really talking more about this book, to be specific. I think I've read it in less than 24 hours because of how much I love it. And yes, Anthony and Kate had their obvious flaws, but oh God, they were so perfect together. I can't help but imagine Jonathan Bailey from the Netflix series as Anthony when I was reading it. I swoon, all the time.

This used to be my favorite Bridgerton novel, but that's only because I haven't read my new favorite until recently. Anthony and Kate's story was just oh-so good and intimate and romantic. Kate's also my favorite heroine in the entire Bridgerton literary universe. She was headstrong and loving. She's unafraid to put the happiness of her family first.

In so many ways, Anthony was the same. He assumed the role of Viscount Bridgerton when he was only eighteen when his father unexpectedly died. Since then, he overlooks the family's estates and well-being. Yes, this is one of those "daddy issues" stories I mentioned earlier, but this one was kind of done tastefully. He didn't wish to fall in love but everything changed when he encountered Kate. He didn't mean to be attracted to her, but here we are.

Anthony and Kate had so much understanding between them. I agree Anthony was a bit of a dick when Kate asked if they could have one week to get to know each other before consummating the marriage (worse things have been said by Benedict and Phillip, though), but in the end, I can't deny that I truly love them together.

Overall Rating: 8/10

#1 - When He Was Wicked (Book 6)

*blushing furiously* So what if I put the smuttiest and steamiest novel as my top choice?! What about it? Oh, but really, though, I can't stop reading this. Francesca is one of the least known Bridgertons in the books, just like Gregory. I didn't know anything about her, except that she's quieter than most of her siblings. It was also first mentioned in Romancing Mister Bridgerton that she had already married but was sadly widowed after two years.

Michael was Francesca's late husband's cousin and best friend, which makes him her best friend, too. He has been secretly in love with Francesca since the first moment he laid eyes on her but was unable to pursue her because she's with his cousin John. In addition, I'd like to say that Michael is my favorite hero in the Bridgerton books. He's very charming and wicked, and really, my knees buckle at the thought of him.

Long after John passed away, Francesca and Michael reunited. Francesca was looking for a new husband because she desperately wants a family, while Michael... well, Michael was still in love with her. There was undeniable passion and intimacy between them, and it was hard to stay away from each other. I seriously have a thing for men secretly pining over women they love. That's got to be one of my favorite tropes.

However, the book itself was a bit longer than necessary. While I understand Francesca's hesitations in marrying Michael, it could've been shortened because it felt draggy by the end. Her constant changing of minds was a bit annoying, and yeah, it was probably a ploy to lengthen the novel.

Additionally, I was a bit skeptical at first of how they're going to treat their relationship, especially since Francesca was truly in love with her first husband. But it was done so nicely. Francesca and Michael never forget about John, even in the end. I loved what John's mother said to Michael in a letter at the end, "Thank you, Michael, for letting my son love her first."

I guess I love their story more than the other couples because both were already mature and experienced. Just like everyone else in this romantic series, Francesca and Michael belonged together. The entirety of Chapter 19 is proof of that.

Overall Rating: 9/10

***

Overall, the Bridgerton books are quite entertaining, despite being a cheesy and sappy series. I admit that I feel quite lonely and bored now that I've finished all eight of them. Ah well, there's always the possibility of rereading them!

#books #bridgerton #bridgerton books #julia quinn #novels #reading #book ranking #romance #romantic books #historical fiction

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unfunny-quips · 4 years

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Snippet from my (other) overly complicated Akeshu Time Loop fic where everyone except Akira (mostly) remembers the previous year:

Akechi Goro’s apartment was nothing like what Ann had expected it to be. Though admittedly her imagination had been a bit conflicted on what she should expect.

The shiny, polite Ace Detective facade he showed the world suggested she should expect a living space ripped straight out of a designer magazine. Attractive but stiff, nice to look at but difficult to actually live in let alone be comfortable in when visiting.

On the other hand, what she’d seen of his other side - the feral, blood thirsty and thoroughly nasty Black Mask - made her think of a dungeon like space. Chains on the walls, maybe one of those disturbing cluttered spaces shown on crime dramas when the heroes were hunting a serial killer. Pictures with blacked out eyes pinned to the walls, red string connecting disparate and terrifying thoughts and images, a collection of weapons on display.

What she got was…neither of those.

Shiho led her down the kind of pleasant residential area that put Ann in mind of the best kind of summers as a kid. A big park, open friendly faces, a community that seemed friendly and kind to each other. Shiho smiled and waved to a number of people on their way, the few they stopped to chat with for a bit telling her to give their hellos on to Akechi before letting them continue.

The apartment itself was the converted guest house in the back garden of what looked to be a cheerful family home. Ann counted no less than three fat cats lazing about and when they approached a delightfully plump old woman seated in a rocking chair on the front porch sat up from her reading to say hello and welcome Ann. Shiho called her Obaasan and rushed to give her a hug like she really was Shiho’s beloved grandmother before the old woman ushered them down the side path towards the back of the house.

“That’s Goro’s landlady, Shibata-San,” Shiho said as they walked the narrow path that led along the side of the house and through a truly beautiful garden. “She’s super sweet but has trouble with her arthritis sometimes. She gives Goro a deal on the rent since he helps her out so much around the house and with her gardening.”

Akechi Goro being nice to little old ladies. Ann wasn’t certain if that was exactly what she expected from the deranged killer pretending to be a charming teen detective or something so far out of the realm of expected as to be laughable. She chose to make a polite hmm noise of interest instead, not wanting to break the good mood Shiho was in by bringing up how very much Ann hated Akechi. She was rewarded by Shiho smiling warmly at her, which was really all the shorter girl would need to do to convince Ann to murder someone in Shiho’s name.

Shiho knocked at the door and Ann took a final calming breath to prepare her for the night that lay ahead of her. It was just a few hours, and she’d be there with Shiho and there would be plenty of other people to help buffer her from Akechi and Akira. Ann had helped shoot a god in the face once, she was ready for anything Akechi might throw at her over a few hours of talking about a book.

She wasn’t even close to ready, as it turned out.

The realization settled in the moment the door opened to reveal a yawning Akechi standing before her with messy hair and Featherman themed pajamas. Rumpled and clearly well worn Featherman pajamas.

Ann felt her eyes widen comically at the sight of the boy that had once been her and her team’s arch nemesis. A known and dangerous killer who had taken countless lives in the name of his twisted revenge scheme.

He was wearing adorable unicorn slippers. Their horns were rainbow.

“Ah, Shiho!” Akechi said through his yawn, face stretching into a warm smile as he spotted the shorter girl on the other side of the threshold. “Just in time, I need help hauling Akira’s dead weight to the bedroom.” Ann watched him scratch lazily at his chin before blinking his attention over to her and offered another smile. It was a brittle, plastic thing in comparison to the honest warmth he’d offered the shorter girl. All polish and teeth, no actual emotion. “And Takamaki-San, I’m so glad you could join us for the evening.”

He looked anything but, especially with the white knuckled grip he had on the door handle.

Ann offered a strained smile of her own. She’d made a promise to Shiho damnit and she’d see it through if it killed her. Or if Akechi killed her. Whatever. The point was that she was going to try damnit.

“Wouldn’t miss it for the world!” She said as Akechi stepped back to allow them inside. Shiho gave a faint wince at the overly perky tone Ann had and shoot she’d overshot the enthusiasm a bit. Oh well. Better to be too excited than not enough. She followed Shiho’s lead in taking her shoes off and slipping on a pair of house slippers before turning her attention to the apartment itself.

It was…surprisingly cozy.

Ann was surprised too by the amount of clutter taking up the apartment. A laundry basket of half-folded, clean clothes sitting next to the couch, a knocked over bag tossed on a side table by the front door, more pillows and blankets than Ann would have expected making it seem like a nice place to curl up and read in. The apartment still managed to look tidy despite the half hearted attempt at organization.

Most of the space consisted of a living room with a tiny kitchenette tucked in a corner. There was a small nook beside the cooking area likely meant for dining. The small table placed there was taken over by a nice looking chess set, leaving no room for any actual dining. A small blackboard hung on the wall beside it, tallying victories of each player - tied, from what Ann could see, between Akechi and Kurusu. Other than that there were a couple doors leading to what she presumed to be a bedroom and a bathroom.

It looked so remarkably normal.

Hardwood floors, plush rugs thrown everywhere, overstuffed bookshelves, pictures on the wall. There was a larger one hung over the couch showing off the entire book club smiling brightly at what looked like a cat cafe. Shiho, Akechi, Kurusu, Yoshizawa, even Togo Hifumi and Iwai’s son Kaoru. All of them squeezed together to fit, hands up in peace signs or giving each other bunny ears.

They looked normal. Just kids hanging out, enjoying each other’s company and reading books. It was hard to reconcile the photo with the mental image Ann had of several of the members as potential agents of Yaldabaoth.

Seeing how happy Shiho looked in the pictures didn’t help.

Ann pushed the thoughts away as best she could and followed other two to where a half asleep Akira was laid sprawled half under a large kotatsu. The delinquent had his head thrown back on the couch behind him, one of the many throw pillows Akechi apparently owned curled in his arms. She was surprised to see his usual oversized glasses he so often hid behind tossed haphazardly on the kotatsu. His eyes were closed, but he cracked one open when he heard them come over.

“M’fine here.” He muttered, curling up further around his pillow.

Akechi rolled his eyes.

“There is a bed literally right there.” he pointed at one of the two closed doors for emphasis, mere steps away. Akira was already turning away and wiggling further beneath the kotatsu blanket. “Just go to bed Akira, no one else is even going to be here for another hour at least.”

Ann blinked. “What?” She turned from the drowsy Akira to Shiho, the shorter girl giving an unapologetic, challenging smile.

“Goro said we could come over early so you could get settled in!” Shiho said, chipper and all too aware of the fact that Ann had been banking on keeping her attention on other people in order to ignore Akechi. She really shouldn’t have been surprised. Shiho really did know her too well.

Akechi offered another brittle smile before turning his attention back to Akira, his expression softening again. Ann watched as the detective attempted to scoop the dark haired boy up, only for Akira to slip out of his grasp by going boneless, earning an undignified swear from the detective.

Ann watched as the detective attempted to drag the delinquent away by an arm, amused as Shiho strolled over casually and hauled Akira up over her shoulder - pillow and all - in a fireman’s hold. She did it with such ease that Ann was a left little breathless at the show of strength. Akira wasn’t heavy by any measure but he was tall and she’d seen him working out at the gym the one time she went with Ryuji. The boy had muscle and that couldn’t be light. It didn’t matter to the short girl and her exceptional strength and well… Ann was weak to Shiho in so very many ways.

A few minutes later Akira had been safely stowed in a proper bed, the faint sound of soft snores heard from the dark haired delinquent before Shiho had even made it through the door. Which just left the three of them standing awkwardly in the living room.

Joy.

“I’m not nearly as good as Akira or Boss,” Akechi began, “But I can make a passable cup of coffee with what I’ve got here. Would you like one?”

There was a very real chance he might poison it. Ann nodded anyway to appease Shiho, resigned to the fact that she really was willing to do anything to see the shorter girl smile.

Akechi shuffled towards the kitchenette in his ridiculous fluffy unicorn slippers and began fussing with the various coffee supplies that took up almost all of his very limited counter space. He was even nice enough to pull out a container of some cookies - a favorite brand of Ann’s on top of it - that hadn’t even been opened yet from a cupboard. She felt secure in the knowledge that those at least hadn’t been tampered with as she began happily devouring them.

“He’s still refusing to move in?” Shiho asked Akechi softly as she settled on the plush loveseat adjacent to the couch, tugging Ann down beside her. The dark haired girl pulled her feet up and under her, Shiho’s expression turning concerned as she watched Akechi work.

Akechi gave a soft sigh as he began boiling some water for the coffee. “He’s just so damn stubborn.” The detective said, shoulder’s drooping as he measured the freshly ground coffee out. “That place is killing him, but every time I bring it up he digs his heels in.”

Shiho gave a soft sigh before turning her attention to Ann to explain. “Akira is…” She paused, frowning, “His living situation is…bad.” Ann flicked her attention to Akechi as she heard him mutter a faint fucking understatement of the year under his breath. “Goro has offered to let him stay here but Akira’s worried that his record would hurt Goro’s reputation.”

“Oh,” Ann said, turning her attention on the delicate chocolate dipped cookie she held. Akira’s criminal record, that had been made public and well known by Mishima at Komashida’s request. Because Akira had stepped in and kept the teacher from getting to Shiho. Something Ann should have done. “Isn’t there something he can do? He’s staying with a guardian right? Couldn’t he just request to be moved under someone else?”

Akechi snorted bitterly. “Great idea, so that scam artist can report him as being “dangerous” and get him sent back to Juvie?” Red eyes turned to Ann, pinning her in place as Akechi’s mouth twisted into a sour frown. “You know about shitty adults. You know there really aren’t options like that for people in Akira’s position.”

Ann was struck again by the strange clash between what she expected from Akechi from the last run of the game and what he was showing her in this one.

A facade of niceties for the camera, a howling soul of insanity for anyone who got in his way. Where, exactly, between those two extremes lay concern for a friend in a difficult position? Where did friends lay in that mess at all? Where did the cozy apartment, helping out an arthritic old lady, the weekly book club, the Featherman pajamas? Was there a graph somewhere that might map it all out? Or was she just supposed to guess at what was a real glimpse at the boy that had once murdered her friend’s father and what was an act to get what he wanted?

“Here,” Akechi said, and for a moment she half expected him to hand her the answers she wanted. He didn’t, of course, instead handing her a cup of coffee resting on a matching saucer. Both cup and saucer had cute chubby cats on them. “Cream? Sugar?”

She blinked and nodded, watching as he turned on his heel to get her what she asked for. Shiho beside her shifted where she sat, butting their shoulders together gently. Her face, when Ann met her gaze, was thoughtful. Considering Ann as if she was the puzzle and not the serial killer juggling a carton of cream and an oversized container of sugar across the room. Trying to stow her apprehension away for the night, Ann offered her friend the best honest expression she could while knowing how many lies she’d given the shorter girl over the past months.

Shiho’s expression shifted slowly, the look in her dark eyes difficult to read. Ann watched as the other girl turned to sip at her coffee. Shiho didn’t even wait for it to cool. She always liked her drinks hot enough to scald.

“You know, maybe it’s the way you’re asking.” Shiho said, the complicated emotions Ann glimpsed the moment before shuffled away as the dark haired girl turned a devious smile on Akechi.

The detective looked weary and wary all at once. “Shiho…” His tone had something like a weak warning to it, though the bite Ann was used to hearing from him was absent.

“I’m just saying,” Shigo said, looking delighted, “You’re asking him to move in with you as a friend.”

“Don’t.” Akechi said, it might have been sharp and snapping if it wasn’t for the color rising high on the boy’s cheeks. Ann blinked in bewilderment. Was Akechi Goro blushing?

“Just ask him to be your boyfriend already!” Shiho said, all cheer and delight with an undercurrent of something challenging directed at the now definitely blushing Akechi. “We all saw you two kiss at the ice rink! It’s not like the thing between you it’s a secret!”

Ann choked on the cookie she’d just popped into her mouth. Akechi - so red that Ann was fairly certain he was going to turn purple soon - made a high pitched squeak and buried his face in his hands.

Well that put a new light on things.

“You kissed Kurusu?!” Cookies crumbs went flying as she spoke but Ann didn’t care. The news was just too big to be taken in calmly. Makoto had suspected that Kurusu, a known criminal, was a pawn in Akechi’s devious plan and the rest of the group had been thinking the same. Morgana suggested that the dark haired boy might even be the new player they’d been warned about.

At no point at any of them considered Akechi could be so human as to simply just like Kurusu.

“It’s not that - you’re taking things out of context!” Akechi almost wailed, not a psychopath ready to kill at a drop of a hat but an embarrassed teenage boy being teased about his crush.

Shiho laughed, “You two held hands!”

“I didn’t know how to skate! Kurusu was helping me balance!”

“You stayed on the ice during the couple’s song!”

“We just didn’t want to get off the ice!”

“You stopped, in the middle of the rink, looked deep into each other’s eyes while holding hands and kissed.”

As if to drive her point home, Shiho lifted her phone to show a picture - a bit blurry at the edges but clear enough to make out - of Akechi and Kurusu definitely having a sweet, romantic kiss on the ice. Clearly completely oblivious of the world around them as they did so. It was possibly the cutest thing Ann had ever seen.

Any idea Ann ever had of Akechi Goro being intimidating was thrown right out the window.

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rainy-day-gracie · 4 years

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Old Friends 8

So I’ve decided to make the last two chapters of this series like a two part finale almost. 9 and 10 will be the last chapters of Old Friends :(

But I do have more in the works, so don’t cry! Just enjoy this fluffy chapter with Spencer and the team. :))

Spencer Reid x Reader

Chapter 8:

JJ grabbed me by the arm as soon as I walked into the bullpen.

“Explain to me why Henry is telling me that, I quote, ‘Uncle Spencer is in love with the smart lady.’?”

I just stared at her with wide eyes. “Um, I don’t know, maybe you should ask Spencer.” I tried to get away without grinning, but she kept her grip on my arm, a sly smirk on her face.

“When you guys babysat Henry he definitely picked up on your flirty little banter, and now he’s constantly talking about how Spencer is so in love with you.” JJ let go of my arm and gave me a knowing glance.

I was trying to keep from laughing hysterically. “How old is Henry?”

“He’s three.”

Calming myself down, I walked past her to my desk. “JJ, I’m just going to be honest…” I looked her in the eye, faking seriousness. “I have no idea what you are talking about.”

She gave a groan of frustration as Prentiss and Garcia walked past. “What are we talking about?” Prentiss saddled up next to me. “Are we talking about how you and Reid are totally hooking up?”

Garcia gasped. “Yesterday I heard them talking about their favorite French movies… the language of love!”

I raised my hands in the air in mock surrender. “Oh, you caught me! We were talking to each other, whoa!”

All three of the women rolled their eyes, and I could tell they weren’t leaving until they actually got something juicy.

I sighed. “Okay, I’ve spent the night at his place a few times. Nothing happened,” I added quickly after seeing their scandalized faces. “We just eat ice cream and I crash on his couch. After what happened a few months ago, sometimes it’s hard to be alone.”

They all looked suspicious, but eventually they dropped it.

I didn’t tell them the total truth, but they didn’t need to know details.

Yes, we’ve kissed a few times, so what?

After a few minutes of working at my desk, a fresh coffee appeared next to me, and Spencer quickly was walking away. I giggled softly, watching him wink at me from across the bullpen.

I heard Morgan snort as he was walking up behind my desk. “What, Morgan?”

“Something fishy is going on with you and pretty boy over there,” Morgan pointed over to where Spencer was sorting through different files.

“Something fishy? We’re old friends, you know that.”

Morgan smirked, clearly unconvinced. “Old friends, my ass.”

We all came to attention when we saw Garcia power walking across the catwalk in her heels. “Minions of the BAU, you have a case!”

The stunt that I pulled, ignoring Hotch, happened almost a month ago and he was still pissed. I could read it on his face, and it was almost comical to see this normally stone cold leader so heated.

“I think Dad is still mad at me,” I whispered to Prentiss, and she laughed out loud, drawing the attention of everyone in the briefing room. Out of the corner of my eye I saw Spencer with his little sweet puppy smile, the smile he wore when he was happy.

“Ladies and gents, you are going to San Francisco where there have been three very strange murders, I direct your attention to the photos,” Garcia pointed to the screen.

She wasn’t lying, the murders were extremely strange. One crime scene appeared to be in a tunnel with a male and female victim. The other crime scene was a medieval execution, a woman hanged using a classic noose. Suicide was ruled out given that her hands and feet were bound and her apartment showed signs of a struggle. All of the victims were in fancy medieval clothing, corsets and all.

“The only thing connecting all of these kills is the elaborate costumes. Clearly our unsub has a flair for the dramatic. He wants these bodies to be found.” Spencer looked over at me as I cleared my throat.

“There’s something familiar about these murders, I just can’t put my finger on it.” Looking at the photos, something was ringing in my head but I couldn’t figure out what it was. “Probably the work of a single unsub, the medieval wardrobes practically screams individuality.”

“What I’m worried about is the rate of kills. Two victims in three days is almost a nonexistent cooling off period.” Hotch stood up and scanned the room. “Wheels up in 20. Reid, come see me for a moment.”

Spencer shot me a glance and followed Hotch into his office.

“That can’t be good.” I muttered to JJ, and she nodded inn agreement.

“So he stabbed the female victim at the first crime scene, and poisoned the male. Those are two completely different MOs.” Everyone was still puzzled at the crime scenes on the plane. Morgan had almost an angry look on his face. “And he hangs the single female? It doesn��t make sense.”

I shook my head. “I can’t shake the feeling that I’ve seen this before.’

Prentiss raised her eyebrows. “I don’t think any of us have seen anything like this before.”

Spencer was sitting in the window seat next to me, surprisingly not saying anything. At the back of my mind I wanted to ask him about what Hotch called him in for.

“I never thought I would get to kiss you again,” Spencer whispered gently. His arm around my shoulders on his couch felt so much like home I forgot that we were also coworkers.

“Well, you did, so it’s okay,” I smiled up at him and turned back to the TV. In these few short weeks of being a couple again of sorts, my mental health has improved more than in the last six months. Someone would touch me and I wouldn’t flinch anymore, and the nightmares of that damn basement lessened.

Everything was so easy with Spencer. There was still the same connection of kindred spirits we’ve had since college, and we would talk about the most random, nerdy subjects.

Damn, he made me happy. So, so happy.

“Everything good?” I murmured to Spencer on the plane.

“Yeah, it’s okay,” Spencer gave me a reassuring side smile as Hotch began giving assignments.

“Prentiss, Morgan go to the latest dump site. Look through it in the killer’s eyes. YLN, Reid, go to the station and interview families. Rossi and I will go to the ME. JJ, take care of the press.”

I suddenly got it. Hotch was putting Spencer in to babysit me. That’s what they were talking about. I gave Spencer a look, and he glanced away awkwardly.

“So the first two victims were Rosie Greenlin and Tom Janney, they were both in their early twenties, dating, college students.” I shook my head as I walked up to Spencer. “Parents don’t know anything except that Rosie and Tom were in love, clear as day.”

Spencer sighed as he scanned the crime scene photos. “Betty Wright came from a wealthy family, and her parents say she’s always been very outspoken but kind.”

I furrowed my eyebrows. “Rosie and Tom both came from wealthy families as well. Could he be targeting the rich?”

Spencer shrugged, out of ideas for now.

“Hey, did Hotch pull you aside so he could tell you to babysit me?” One look on Spencer’s face told me yes. “He’s afraid I’ll go rogue again.”

Spencer looked guilty and spoke slowly. “He’s just making sure that you don’t…”

I raised my eyebrows when Spencer trailed off. “Yeah, that’s what I thought. I’m not mad, I just wanted to know, that’s all.”

A police officer came into the room as I finished speaking. “There’s another one. Dylan Walker, stabbed then submerged in liquid. But here’s the weird part, he was submerged in a barrel of wine.”

Spencer pulled out his phone. “We need to get everyone here. We’re not going to catch this guy by splitting up.”

After everyone got back to the station, we ordered food and threw out ideas.

“It’s probably this guy’s first time killing, could the varied MO just mean he’s seeing what he likes?” Morgan had the same puzzled expression from earlier, as did most of the team. “Betty Wright was found hanging from a tree on an isolated hill and the coroner said she’d only been there about an hour.”

Spencer shifted in his seat and moved his hands. “The dump sites seem to be crucial to his fantasy, but we just don’t know why.”

I hadn’t said anything since the team got back. “Oh my god,” I whispered, looking at the crime scene photos. “A malmsey butt… a public execution… two deaths in a tunnel…”

The team just stared at me. “What is it, YFN?” Spencer asked.

I tapped him on the arm, completely astounded that I figured it out. “Remember when we went to see King Lear in college?”

Spencer’s eyes widened. “Cordelia was executed by hanging.”

I nodded at him, standing up and looking at the team. “She was executed because she valued love over property, so her father killed her. Betty Wright was known to be very outspoken. Clarence in Richard III was stabbed then submerged in a malmsey butt, or a barrel of wine. Romeo and Juliet both died in an underground tomb, Romeo poisoned himself and Juliet stabbed herself. Rosie and Tom died in a sewage drain underground in the exact same ways.”

“He’s recreating the written deaths of Shakespeare,” JJ concluded.

“The medieval clothing ties all of it together, the costumes he puts his victims in were common among royalty in Shakespeare’s time.” I looked to Hotch, who wore a microscopic smile on his face. Good job, he seemed to say.

The unsub was Devin McCoy, a former Shakespeare director who lost his job two weeks ago for assaulting one of his actors. Hotch insisted that I stay at the station while they made the arrest, and I grudgingly obliged. Devin came with little resistance, saying that he was creating the art that his actors couldn’t. The whole thing looked like a bad movie when they dragged him into the station.

Hotch pulled me aside as we were packing up.

“YLN, I have to say that you did a fantastic job in this case. You saw something in the murders that no one else did, and we would’ve been here a lot longer without you.” I fought the urge to happy cry. Hotch has never complimented me like that.

“Thank you Hotch. Does that mean Spencer doesn’t have to babysit me anymore?” I asked hopefully. “I have the green light again?”

Hotch gave me a rare smile. “Yes, you have the green light again.”

The plane ride was quiet. We took off at midnight, and with the five hour flight, we were all dreading the next day at work.

I was sitting next to Spencer, who was reading Romeo and Juliet. “How can you read that after the case we just had?”

He looked up and shrugged. “Last time I read this play was in Spanish, so I figured I would read the original English instead.”

I gave him big doe eyes and made a pitched tone. “Oh, Spencer! Spencer! Wherefore art thou Spencer?”

He chuckled and turned away from me. Across the plane, I saw JJ and Prentiss laughing to themselves, most likely at our dorkiness. I smiled and winked at them.

“I know JJ and Prentiss are watching, otherwise I would kiss you.” Spencer whispered to me, still looking down at his book.

“Who cares about JJ and Prentiss?”

His eyes shot up to mine, trying to see if I was joking or not. I gave a devilish smirk, and he laced his hand in my hair.

Spencer kissed me sweetly, and we pulled away when we heard the applause of everyone on the plane.

“Finally!” Rossi exclaimed. “I’ve been pretending to sleep for 45 minutes!”

@itsarayofsunshine @thesailbells @squirrellover1967 @softpeteparker @parkeroffline

#spencer reid #spencer reid fluff #dr spencer reid #dr reid #criminal minds self insert #criminal minds #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid x reader

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marireadshellblazer · 4 years

Text

Hellblazer Issue #6

While I have read all of this before, I am trying to look at this, in some ways, like I am seeing it for the first time. I’m trying to bring out some of the initial, raw thoughts I had when I had read it the first time.

In keeping with the theme of showing the dark sides of society in these early chapters, it was only a matter of time before the subject of racism and white supremacy came up. This is such a tricky subject to approach no matter what medium is used (comics, novels, plays, TV, etc), and you could argue that it isn’t handled in the most…graceful manner. However, it is good that this is addressed in the series. These dark sides of humanity heavily characterize John’s world; parts of society that a lot of the more privileged members prefer to not see. For John, who sees the worst the world has to offer, these issues are all around him; loud, unavoidable, and heavily tainting even the brightest of moments. John is a cynical man, and it’s not hard to see why. Sadly, this is an all too real reflection of the real world.

I think that growing up the way he did and the area of London he lives in allows John to see a lot of the problems that the upper class (the snobs of the world) and most politicians choose to ignore and puts them front and center; hate crimes, crime just in general, poverty, prostitution/exploitation of women, and the effects this sort of environment has on the young people who can’t escape it. Now, I have never been to London, or Europe for that matter, so I’m not sure if this is just an exaggeration of what the area is like; Delano exaggerating the poverty situation in this area for story-telling purposes. Therefore, I’m not sure how accurate my assumptions are surrounding how “real” this portrayal is of the time this series takes place in. But, I did grow up in another big city; Chicago. And using what I know from life there, I can say that issues like these in certain neighborhoods and projects in and around big cities are very real and very hard to properly impress upon one who hasn’t experienced life there just how very dangerous and terrible they are.

When I left Chicago, I was stunned when I found out that, for people outside the city, gun violence and arson weren’t a normal part of life. Gang activity, using techniques to ward off pick pockets, and knowing which bakeries were fronts for drug smugglers weren’t common knowledge or part of everyday life. It honestly blew me away to see the reaction people had in the other parts of the Midwestern United States I have lived in when someone would go missing or get busted for using meth; the whole town would take it very personally. But for me I felt almost nothing; one person went missing here, but in Chicago, at least 4 people went missing, three died from a drive-by, and the mortician I’m friends with buried two bodies in one casket (one hidden below the other) in order to hide a murder victim who was taken out by the mob (I wish I was joking). So, suffice to say, as sad and disturbing a world John lives in, exaggerated or not, it feels strangely real to me. It’s in big cities like Chicago and London that I think racial violence gets particularly dangerous (don’t quote me on that. But the amount of people who die for being Hispanic/black in Chicago via gun is staggering). Big cities might be seen as colorful due to the mix of languages, ethnicities, and cultures, but it’s also because of this prejudice is often on full display. The more reasons there are to “other” people, the more people will find a way to do it. And it’s a terrible shame. I mean, there’s no reason for that crap. I mean, is it really so hard to at the very least be respectful to each other? SMH

So! That’s just a little bit on where I’m coming from/what’s effecting my reading experience! On to some thoughts!

Aight, well the comment about the Ralph Steadman painting, as it turns out, is not an exaggeration. I looked that shit up and, honestly, he’s not wrong.

I liked that they described creating corruption and as a demon’s real art. It helps hammer home that the corruption and darkness in the hearts of people are a demonic domain which brings the hellish reality in which John lives to life. Very nice.

I love that “weird sex attacks” is in the same line as suicides and cannibalism. Something about that made me double-take.

Nice Bob Dylan reference

Am I the only one that thinks Zed’s hair is weird? Era appropriate or not, I still think it’s weird.

Smooth John…very smooth.

I’m not going to lie, I snorted when I saw what Nergal did to those racists. There’s something poetic about forcing people who unwilling to have empathy and work with/understand others be unable to escape being together. Very nice descriptions of his process in creating the bigot-abomination. Also loving how Nergal is characterized here. He is truly gross. Just…the sewer demon orgy. I was not prepared for that, but I feel like I should have been.

When they show the abomination leaving the sewers, something about the writing there made me think of The Mob Song from the Disney version of Beauty and the Beast. Anyone else get that vibe?

Now, as far as John and Zed go, I’m not sure if I’d call them a couple. Seems inaccurate. Would this be more like FWB? I mean there is clearly trust there, but we don’t see a lot of depth beyond that. I mean, chemistry? I’m not sure how to say. Not saying it’s bad or anything, but nothing that says “they so cute” either. Maybe this was intentional.

I fucking love Ray. He is such a sweet man. Dude he just…he deserves better. He really does.

Also, once again, freaking love the cover art. 10/10.

Words I had to look up (also, for the derogatory words I include below I mean no offense; these were honest to God words that I didn’t know the meaning of and saw for the first time here. I figured, based on context, they were not good, but I didn’t really know the meaning. I wanted to share that part of my experience, so I included them here):

dole- benefit paid by the government to the unemployed (familiar with it, but never seen it in that context before so I was confused)

yid- derogatory word for a Jewish person

wog- derogatory word for anyone who is not white

fug- warm, stuffy or smoky atmosphere in a room (this is my new favorite word)

strewth- interjection, expresses surprise. I think it might be something akin to “fuck!”

#Hellblazer #Issue 6 #Thoughts #reading

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supercasey · 4 years

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TF2 RED Headcanons by an idiot that can’t pay attention well enough to read the comics

Back on my bullshit, because I apparently can’t shut up tonight. This is gonna be a big, possibly in-cohesive mess, and will probably have more focus on Scout, Pyro, Sniper, and Spy since they’re my favs, but I still felt like writing down all my dumb headcanons/ideas regarding everyone’s favorite mercenaries (at the moment at least; I might make another post like this later on, hopefully after I’ve read the comics)! Sorry if any of these seem OOC, I’m just goofin’! (Putting this under a readmore because WOW this got LONG)

Every Sunday afternoon, Scout, Pyro, and eventually Sniper when he tells everyone that he's a trans guy, hold a makeshift “Trans Buddy Club” meeting, which mostly consists of Scout mindlessly rambling about drama on base, Pyro nodding along, and Sniper occasionally adding his two cents/spilling tea as well.

Scout can speak fluent French, on account of his mom making sure to teach it to him so he could have more of a connection to his dad, but no one found out until a little after Spy told Scout he was his dad. It wasn’t long after this that Scout revealed that this entire time, he’s known every single thing that Spy's ever said to him in French, but he didn't say anything because he thought it would be funny to keep the ruse going (also because he really liked being praised in secret). Cue Spy freaking tf out because oh no, now his kid knows that he's secretly a huge softie for not only his son, but his whole team.

Sometimes Spy and Scout talk shit in French right there in front of the team, but no one has any fucking idea what they’re saying and to be honest it’s pissing Soldier off the most, much to the father and son duo’s amusement.

Pyro secretly has a little black rabbit named Lucifer (Lucy for short) in their bedroom, which they only take out to get some fresh air and hop around very early in the morning, before anyone else is awake. The only people who know are Medic, Spy, and surprisingly enough Soldier, whose raccoons became friends with Lucy.

Sniper has a goldfish in his RV, but it died three months after he joined the team; he has no idea though because Miss Pauling replaces it every time one passes away, so now Sniper is convinced he has the world’s oldest goldfish.

Scout and Soldier both really want a dog, but they're not allowed to have one on-base. :(

((Heavy plans on sneaking a dog in next Christmas and no one can stop him. It’s gonna be a Border Collie named Bandit, and it gets the most attached to Scout and Heavy.))

Demo is no longer allowed to make mixed drinks for parties; the last time he did, he got everyone so shitfaced that they had to cancel work for three days in a row in order to recover from it.

Continuing off of that: drunk headcanons.

Demoman: Unassuming drunk. Acts like he usually does, unless he’s gotten particularly shitfaced for a party/event, in which case he’ll be slurring so bad that no one can understand him anymore.

Pyro: Giggly drunk. Is just laughing the whole fucking night at nothing in particular, which scares anyone who’s still sober. If they’re too far gone, they’ll start mumbling something that sounds like it’s in Spanish.

Spy: Party drunk. An absolute fucking mess, he’s trying to impress everyone and keep their attention on him, which usually leads to him standing on tables and dancing until he falls and passes out.

Sniper: Sleepy drunk. Out like a fucking light at the slighest bit of alcohol. If he wakes up and keeps drinking though, he’ll just be slurring like Demo, only with a lot more anger in his voice. Let him sleep, or he’ll fucking stab you to death.

Scout: Clumsy drunk. Bumps into anything and everything; eventually has to be given a sippy cup for his alcohol because he dropped three glasses in a row. Talks even faster than usual, until he accidentally fucking pukes on someone.

Soldier: Calm drunk. Instead of getting loud and aggressive like most would think/fear, he’s just… chillin'. Just watches the shitshow as it happens, not even laughing when people get hurt/fall down. Kinda terrifying if we’re being honest here.

Engineer: Depressed drunk. His depression goes through the roof if he has too much, so he doesn't drink more than a few beers if he can help it. If he does accidentally drink too much, he'll be sobbing his eyes out in no time flat.

Heavy: Cuddly drunk. It’s very, very hard to get him drunk, since he’s really good at holding his liquor, but if you do, he’s gonna be hugging and carrying everyone he can get his hands on; you can expect him to have Medic and/or Pyro on his lap once he’s drunk enough.

Medic: Angry drunk. He wants to start fights with fucking everyone, all his rage coming out once he’s had a few too many; god help anyone who tries to stop him. Luckily for all involved, Heavy is more than capable of holding him still until he tires himself out.

BONUS Miss Pauling: Dumbass drunk. With too many bottles in her, she’s gonna be the one shouting and encouraging Spy to act reckless, while also encouraging Engie to drink more because quitting is for losers. Will pass out within an hour or so of downing her first drink.

BONUS The Administrator: Stereotypical drunk. Slurring, stumbling, she’s got the whole nine yards, but she’ll be damned before she let’s anyone see her that messed up. Secretly sips wine at work.

Okay, back to my rambling.

My personal headcanon names and ages for Scout’s older brothers, going from oldest to youngest: Grant 34, Timothy 32, Jacob 31, Arthur 31, Patrick 30, Malcolm 27, Curtis 26, and Jeremy (Scout) 23.

((Also, I’mma go off on my headcanon personalities for them, which are based off of how I’ve tried portraying them in my "Jeremy" fic.))

Grant - 34 years old - Bisexual - Occupation: Veteran/Construction worker - Personality: the oldest of the bunch, he takes it upon himself to keep his little brothers in line/help Ma out as much as he can. Enlisted in the Air Force after he graduated high school, and still takes a lot of pride in his veteran status after serving overseas three separate times. The family peacemaker.

Timothy - 32 years old - Homosexual - Occuptaion: Cartoonist - Personality: the gentlest of his brothers, he often gets roped into helping Grant keep the pack from running too wild. Bit of a softie; loves his husband and loves his job. Closest relationship is with Scout. Doesn’t approve of Scout being a merc but is too scared to say so. The family heart.

Jacob - 31 years old - Heterosexual - Occupation: Freelance guitarist - Personality: the firstborn of the only set of twins, Jacob is a lot more abrasive and instigating than his twin brother. Can’t grow a beard for shit, which pisses him off. Doesn’t get along well with Timmy, despite them both being talented and devoted artists. The family sword.

Arthur - 31 years old - Pansexual - Occupation: Carpenter - Personality: the second born of the only set of twins, Arthur is far more outgoing and nonchalant than his twin brother. Has a beard and loves it more than life. Secretly has a boyfriend, but is too nervous to come out. Gets along better with Jacob after they’ve become adults. The family shield.

Patrick - 30 years old - Heterosexual - Occupation: Hairdresser - Personality: probably the least social of all of the brothers, he prefers staying out of sight and out of mind tbh. Used to practice cutting everyone’s hair when they were kids. Doesn’t talk to his brothers that much, mostly due to being busy/forgetting to call more. The family shadow.

Malcolm - 27 years old - Heteromantic Asexual - Occupation: Wrestler - Personality: the most aggressive and physically competitive of his brothers, there’s nothing he won’t do to win a fight, save for using weapons/lethal force. Hard to get along with, but he still loves his brothers to bits, and was overprotective of Scout when they were younger. The family instigator.

Curtis - 26 years old - Heterosexual - Occupation: Bartender - Personality: was a total fucking mama’s boy growing up, and constantly got in trouble with his brothers for tattling on them. Still argues with Scout every time they see each other. Wants to make Ma proud, but it’s hard for him to keep a job for very long. The family drifter.

Jeremy - 23 years old - Transmale Pansexual - Occupation: Mercenary - Personality: (This is mostly for how he was as a kid) was constantly following his brothers around (especially Malcolm) in hopes of getting in on the fun. Was always treated as the family baby, so everyone was a bit scared to wrestle/fight with him for fear of getting him hurt. Very close to Timmy and Ma. The family runt.

No one on RED team can fucking drive well, save for MAYBE Sniper, but even he hates doing it. Spy gets so goddamn mad within two seconds of driving, Pyro can't stop swerving, Scout drives like a 16 year old who hasn't realized their own mortality yet, Medic jumps at every little inconsistency on the road, Heavy shouts at other drivers for being too slow/fast, Demo's depth perception is shit, Engie drives like a 90 year old grandmother, and Soldier is fine except he will literally shoot at other drivers for tailgating him/cutting him off.

The whole team has designated “Team Bonding Days” thanks to Miss Pauling, which involves playing board games, card games, and video games (in a slightly more modernized AU) together… this, of course, goes badly sometimes. The worst incident they ever had was a bad game of Monopoly that almost ended Heavy and Medic's friendship.

Uno is forever banned from Team Bonding Days. No explanation is needed.

Off the battlefield and in the base, Miss Pauling had the team set up a chore wheel, which is only occasionally followed. Engie is the most dedicated to following it, while Demo and Sniper try everything in their power to avoid cleaning the base.

Spy sometimes disguises himself as other teammates in order to get out of doing his chores, which has led to a lot of shouting matches that ended in Spy being forced to admit it was his fault.

Spy's favorite teammates to disguise himself as are Engie and Scout. He likes being Engie because he gets to be more affectionate with people without being found out, and he can act as Scout incredibly easily due to knowing him so well (tbh he's so good at masquerading as Scout that it's scary).

For Halloween, everyone put their names in Soldier's hat, then proceeded to pull out other teammates’ names to dress up as for their Halloween party. I dunno exactly who would be who, except that Scout traded around to get Spy, steals one of Spy's suits, and just goes around the party bonking people with a plastic baguette he bought online and speaking in a purposefully bad accent.

Spy: Mon fils, you can speak perfect French and you fucking know it. Please stop making a fool of ton père.

Scout: Hohoho, wee wee, I am a fucking frog that gets pegged by baguettes, hoho!

((Spy is this fucking close to committing filicide.))

Everyone can actually cook pretty well, but only very specific things for each merc: Demo can mix and blend drinks (not just alcoholic ones) like it's nothing, Pyro and Heavy like baking, Medic can barbecue anything, Scout knows how to make a lot of shit from scratch (thanks, Ma), Spy and Engie can grill like the true dads they are, Soldier will deep fry every piece of food he eats, and Sniper makes the best soups and stews imaginable.

In order of least to most messy bedrooms: Spy, Heavy, Engie, Sniper, Pyro, Demoman, Medic, Scout, and Soldier. You'd think Scout's would be the worst, but Soldier's room looks like a literal fucking war-zone.

Even when they're not working but get injured in some way (namely from shenanigans/horseplay), people will straight up kill themselves in order to respawn without the injury. The pettiest thing anyone ever respawned off-duty for was Medic suiciding over a tiny ass paper cut.

Demoman is scarily competent at the weirdest of times. For instance, Engie was once trying to figure out how to fix an issue on one of his turrets, only for Demo to stumble over, completely shitfaced, and point out the problem as well as the solution, before passing out under Engie's worktable. Demo doesn't remember this at all.

The first time Engie swore in front of the team in excess (due to dropping a hammer on his foot while he was tinkering), everyone was absolutely horrified because they had only ever heard him say “fiddlesticks” and the like.

Medic's room may not be the messiest, but goddamn is his office a fucking bomb waiting to go off 90% of the time. No one but Medic can find anything in the mess, which is just fine by him.

Heavy likes to sing (mostly just to Sasha) when he's cleaning her in the locker room. The others try to be within hearing range when he does this, because holy fuck, Heavy is a very good singer! He mostly just sings soft songs/lullabies, so his singing is sometimes used by the team insomniacs to help them get some much needed rest.

Okay, another group one. The mercs during shopping trips together:

Demoman: Sneaks a shit ton of alcohol into the cart when no one's looking. Starts complaining if he has to be at the store for too long; will try and sneak away to go home at least once during the trip. Accidentally bumps into a display case and makes a huge fucking mess.

Pyro: Sits obediently in the cart the whole time, occasionally nabbing candy and stuffed animals off of nearby shelves. Will puppy-dog eyes their way into getting everything they grabbed, no matter how much it is.

Spy: Somehow managed to steal an employee uniform and he pretends to work at the store the whole trip; the other mercs keep accidentally falling for it and asking for his help. This all goes to shit when a Karen starts shouting at him over something he didn't do, and he straight up slaps her.

Sniper: King of forgetting wtf was on the list and just grabs shit on the grounds of “Doc said we needed milk, right?” and other such excuses. Knows where everything is despite never having come here before.

Scout: “Gimme the list, I can get everythin' in, like, ten minutes!” Wants to speedrun grocery shopping due to years of shopping with his mom and brothers. Will run loose if left unsupervised and accidentally bust ass on some spilled milk.

Soldier: The one who spilled the milk that Scout busts his ass on. Insists he knows where he's going, but doesn't. Gets into a fistfight with a soccer mom while everyone's waiting to check out; the soccer mom won.

Engineer: Has a full, printed list of everything the team needs, which is organized by aisle number. Is the one who gives into Pyro's begging. Team Dad; keeps an eye on everyone and stops the soccer mom from murdering Soldier.

Heavy: Pushes the cart the entire time. Spends way too money on stuff in the protein shake aisle. At one point runs the cart down the aisle and let's go because Pyro wanted him to, and it ends up crashing into Demo.

Medic: Argues with the pharmacists at the pharmacy counter. Got lost with Soldier until they found Scout unconscious, so he had to perform CPR in the dairy aisle and a fucking paramedic criticized him the whole time; the paramedic hasn't been seen since.

BONUS Miss Pauling: Tries to more or less chaperone this shitshow of a shopping trip. Starts out cheerful and happy, ends up threatening to put child leashes on every last one of these dumbasses.

After Spy taught him how to dance in Expiration Date, Scout goes to him occasionally for advice, such as how to change a tire, how to cook certain things, how tf to do laundry, etc. Spy secretly loves that Scout does this, and tries to help him as much as he can.

Everyone on the team has called Engie “Dad” at least once, even Spy and Medic. No one comments on it.

Medic has been known to go on hour long tirades about anti-vaxxers, with Engie sometimes joining in.

Heavy buys Pyro stuffed animals during his trips to visit his family, which has started a tradition of everyone buying Pyro stuffed animals/toys when they go somewhere without them. Pyro's room is starting to look like a preschooler’s dream bedroom.

Scout calls his mom every other Friday, and he’ll occasionally let his teammates talk to her. Soldier always goes on and on about how good a soldier Scout has been (Scout cries like a baby), Medic tells her about Scout’s latest injuries (Scout damn near chokes him over it), Sniper is just glad to talk to a mom who won’t scold him for the whole phone call, Pyro hums music while Scout’s Ma sings the lyrics for them, Heavy talks about living in huge families with her, Demo asks her how she’s doing and if he can help her out at all, Engie is polite and also praises Scout, and Spy just tells her he’ll call her later before hanging up (Scout punches him for being rude to his mama).

Spy calls Scout's mom on the Fridays that Scout doesn't, mostly to check on her and sometimes to get into some, uh, “steamy” conversations over the phone. Sniper overheard a conversation between them once and now he can't look Scout or Spy in the eyes anymore.

And that's all I've got for right now! I hope you all liked my stupid headcanons!

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stilesssolo · 5 years

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baby I’ll come back to you: coming soon

Well folks, since my current wip, where the wild things are, is winding down (there’s only one chapter left WHAT) and I’m taking off March/ early April from posting anything to focus on finishing up my remix fic(s) on time, I wanted to share a sneak peek of my next wip (mostly just so I could show off @dragonanddirewolf‘s BEAUTIFUL beautiful art.) So here it is: the long-awaited Jonas Brothers au (sorta), which I hope to start posting in late April. I am really excited to start working on this fic, and even more excited to share it with everyone! Hopefully this little preview intrigues you and gets you as excited to read it as I am to write it! And tides you over while y’all wait for my next update, since I am incapable of really working on more than one project at a time. WHOOPS. Anyways, here it is, so enjoy!!

It feels like it’s been a bloody age since he’s actually seen both Robb and Theon in the same room.

He spots them the moment he steps into the coffee shop, even though they’re tucked away in a back corner, away from prying eyes. Jon keeps his head down as he maneuvers through the crowded café, sunglasses still on even inside, just in case people are looking his way. It’s an old habit he has yet to break— out of the three of them, he certainly gets recognized the least nowadays, which is probably why all the tabloids claim he’s fallen off the face of the planet. Theon’s been doing movies, Robb was in a new band and is married to probably the most famous woman in the world, and Jon— well. He’s been living, best he can. Getting better, all of that bullshit. But truly, he hasn’t done anything like his brothers have in the past five years, so people don’t recognize him as much. Enough to squint at him in an I-know-you’re-famous way, but not enough to rush him like they do Robb whenever he steps foot outside his house. He outgrew his nineteen-year-old baby face and started tying his hair back, and all of a sudden it’s like he’s wearing a mask.

Jon’s not sure how much longer that will last, though, because he has a feeling he knows why Robb’s asked them to meet him here today.

“Jon,” he hears that familiar voice call, and he nods towards the two men at the back table, head still down. The last thing they need is the paps recognizing them, starting to spread rumors about the three of them all together again.

“Hi,” Jon says, slipping into the booth, finally taking off his sunglasses. Light from outside streams in through the large windows, the busy sprawl of King’s Landing right before them. Theon slaps him on the arm in greeting; Robb smiles at him in that way he does now. That way that looks like everything’s fine, but where the light doesn’t quite meet his eyes.

Gods, he can’t remember the last time his brother actually looked truly happy to see him. Probably before their last tour.

He knows why, of course. Robb would never say it, but Jon knows that he blames him for the breakup. For everything.

“Bloody hells, Jon, it’s been an age,” Theon says, grinning at him. “Where’ve you been?”

“I’ve been here,” he responds, crossing his arms. “You’re the one who was off filming that movie for three months.”

“Aye, how did that go?” Robb asks, gaze turning to Theon, that guarded look disappearing. “I haven’t seen you since you got back. You missed Rose’s birthday party, you know.”

“I know,” Theon grumbles. “I’ll make it up to her, I promise. I have to maintain my favorite uncle status.”

They chat for a while— mundane things, catching up. Theon tells them about the movie he’d just wrapped on. Robb shows them both a million new photos of his children. Jon keeps quiet, just listening. It’s… nice, to be back with both of them, the warm sunlight spilling in through the window, making Robb’s eyes shine like they used to when he was younger. It makes him forget, for a moment. Wish for those days back, when the three of them would spend every moment of their time writing music, pouring their hearts and souls into their careers. It was something so fleeting and magical, he’s not really sure he’ll ever find anything like that again.

Jon realizes he’s lost track of the conversation when Theon clears his throat, looking at the two of them almost nervously, in a decidedly un-Theon-like way. “I’m glad we did this,” he says to them, “because I wanted to tell you both.” He pauses, looking at Robb, as if trying to gauge his best friend’s reaction before he even says anything. “I’m going to ask Sansa to marry me.”

Robb’s eyes get comically wide, so much that Jon chuckles, ducking his head. But it only takes his brother a moment to recover, before he’s grinning widely, eyes sparkling in a way Jon hasn’t seen them in a long time.

Or maybe that’s just because Jon seldom sees Robb anymore.

“Wow,” Robb says, almost speechless. “That’s— that’s brilliant, Theon. Congratulations!”

“Well, I haven’t asked her yet,” Theon says, giving Robb a look. “Don’t go cursing me or something now. She’ll go on and say no.”

“You think she would?” Jon asks. Theon shrugs.

“I don’t really, but— hells, I don’t know.” He gives Robb a look. “How did you know it was right when you asked Margaery?”

Robb huffs in laughter. “Oh gods, don’t take advice from me on that,” he says, raising his hands in surrender.

“What do you mean?” Theon demands. “You’re the only one of us who’s bloody married!”

Jon looks down as the sudden feeling of coldness creeps in, like an icy dagger to the heart. Memories flash before his eyes, and he’s trapped back in the past, glimpses of hair like moonlight and teasing smiles dragging him down, drowning him.

He still has that diamond ring somewhere— buried in the back of a drawer, probably, where he won’t stumble upon it. Seeing it is too painful, but getting rid of it— well. That’s painful in an entirely different way.

“Aye, but Margaery made it easy for me,” Robb says. “She wrote a whole bloody album that basically told me she was waiting for me to ask her.” He laughs, shaking his head. “Y’know I still get asked if I married her with paper rings.”

At that, Jon snorts, a little of the darkness lifting. He’s seen his goodsister’s engagement ring, and it is certainly not made of paper.

Jon tunes out as Robb continues on, reassuring Theon. He doesn’t realize he’s being addressed until both men are staring at him expectantly.

“Sorry, what?” he says, and Robb rolls his eyes amiably.

“I asked, what have you been doing, Jon?” Theon repeats, and Jon shifts uncomfortably. Nothing, is really the most honest answer. Working out. Walking Ghost. Trying to keep his mind occupied and himself sober.

It’s probably sad, to look at his life now, compared to what it used to be. When he was nineteen years old he was touring the world, singing for millions of fans, writing songs every single minute of every single day. Music was most of his life. And now he’s just— trying to get by, he supposes. It’s sad, but it’s what he’s become accustomed to. Just… making it through the day, one day at a time.

“Er, not much,” he admits. “Not like you two, anyways.”

Robb glances up at him, that guarded look back in his eyes. “Arya told me you’ve been writing again,” he says, quietly. Jon curses mentally— he never should have told her that.

“Fuckin’ tattletale,” Jon grumbles. But he can tell from Robb’s expression he’s not going to drop it. “Aye, I have been,” he admits, heaving a sigh. “Not anythin’ good. Just… I dunno. I missed it, I guess.”

“I miss it too,” Theon says, a smile tugging at his lips. “Acting is fine, but music… it’s something different, isn’t it?”

“Aye, it is,” Robb agrees. “Margaery’s been workin’ on her next album, and it makes me think back to then. When we’d just crowd around the table in Mum and Dad’s living room, and Jon would come up with a lyric, and Theon would just hear how it should sound, and we’d write a song in an afternoon.” He sighs, a little wistfully, looking down. “Watching Margaery at the piano, it just…”

“Feels like a part of you is missing,” Theon supplies.

Jon doesn’t answer, but he knows what they mean. Maybe that’s why he began songwriting again. Not because he wants to have a music career anymore— just because it’s so ingrained in him, he doesn't really know what to do with himself if he’s not making music. And if he’s being honest, writing down lyrics, coming up with a melody on the guitar or the piano that mainly just collects dust in his living room… there’s a comforting familiarity to it. Like maybe his sense of self hasn’t been completely destroyed. Maybe some of the old person he used to be is buried down deep.

“Do you ever think about it?” Theon asks, and Robb’s brow furrows. “Y’know. The possibility of… us. Getting back together.”

Robb exhales slowly. “More than I should,” he says. “I… it’s really hit me, in the past few years. How much I miss it. And doing things by myself, or with other people, it’s just not the same.”

“Aye,” Jon agrees, both Theon and Robb looking a little surprised at the fact that he’s participating in this conversation voluntarily. But he knows what Robb means. He did solo things after the breakup, just because he didn’t know how to do anything else. And it had been a lackluster replacement, nothing like he’d felt for the almost seven years he and Robb and Theon were together.

“What about you, Jon?” Robb asks, and as casual as his brother may be trying to appear, Jon knows him better than that. He can hear the apprehension in his voice. And the hope.

Jon exhales, trying to sort out his words in his head before he says something he regrets. “I… do miss it,” he says. “And sometimes I think about it. Gettin’ back together. But I always…” He hesitates. “Would it even be the same? Can we have that again, truly? Or was it just some miracle we stumbled upon we can’t get back?”

“I wonder that too,” Theon admits. “If we got back together— would anyone even care? Would anyone want to listen to our music in the first place?”

“I know what you mean,” Robb says, and his blue eyes flash with determination, desperation. Like he’s clinging onto this with all his might. “But I miss making music with you two. And I think if we truly did this, we couldn’t worry about the fans, or the people. We’d have to do it just for us.”

Just for us, Jon thinks, trying not to roll his eyes. That’s a novel thought in Hollywood. All he seemed to do when they were a band was give and give and give himself away. Nothing here was ever just for him.

Well… there was her. But now that’s gone as well.

“I would do it,” Theon says, with a conviction that surprises Jon. “It would be hard, and who bloody knows what would even come of it, but I would. If this is you asking, Robb, then I say yes.”

Robb blinks, a little taken aback, but then Theon’s words really seem to hit him, and he smiles. A laugh falls from his lips, eyes shining in a way that Jon rarely sees anymore.

“What about you, Jon?” Theon asks, and that’s when Robb’s eyes dim.

Jon sighs. “I dunno,” he says. “That’s… a big decision. I’d like to just say yes, but…”

“I know,” Robb says. “And I don’t want you to say yes unless you really mean it, Jon. If you just… do this for us, nothing will end well.”

His eyes drop down to the coffee table, heart heavy. Yes, he knows that’s true. Because isn’t that how it all blew up the first time? Jon couldn’t do it anymore, and instead of telling anyone, he soldiered on for Robb and Theon. For his brothers. And it all ended in fucking disaster.

“I’ll think about it,” he promises, and the sincerity in his voice takes him by surprise as much as it does Robb and Theon. “Truly, I will.”

Maybe it’s not a bad idea. He loved making music with Robb and Theon. It was his entire life for so long— some crazy dream they somehow made come true. The most surreal, incredible thing in the world, right there before them. And he does miss it. He misses having a purpose, an outlet, an… anything. He misses the time when his life wasn’t an endless void, a monotonous parade of going through the motions day-to-day, trying to learn to move on from something he never really thinks he’ll be over.

Robb’s smile is warm when it meets his, and Theon claps him on the shoulder, looking uncharacteristically hopeful. And for a moment, Jon’s heart feels light, not like it’s made of iron, still heavy in his chest after nearly seven years.

But then Robb’s expression shifts, and his stomach sinks once again.

“There’s somethin’ else,” his brother admits. “Sansa just told me. And I figured you’d rather hear it from us, than see it plastered across all the tabloids in King’s Landing.”

“What is it?” Jon asks, dread filling his stomach. He just knows, somehow, that this is it. This fragile peace he’s tried to build these past years is about to shatter, the rug pulled out from under him.

Robb exhales, like he has to physically force the words out, and Jon prepares himself for the fallout.

“Dany’s back in town.”

And with that, the world stops spinning.

#jonas brothers au #my writing #jonerys #jonerys modern au #jonerys fanfiction #baby i’ll come back to you #im so excited for this one guys #AND THE ART!!!#I CANT!!!!#martha did such a good job #really im posting this because I was too impatient to wait #to share her gorgeous gorgeous artwork with yall #HOPE YOU ENJOYED #coming soon to an ao3 near you

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fallinnflower · 5 years

Text

in absentia

jackson x reader (hermes!au, angst)

word count: 5,638

a/n: i’d like to thank @softseunies for making this happen. thanks for being my ultimate cheerleader as i stumbled through writing this fic, mwah~

When you first meet Jackson, he’s running. You notice him at once — not only because he’s extremely attractive — because you run this same route everyday, and you’ve never seen him before. And this isn’t a heavily-populated area, so your curiosity is immediately piqued.

But soon, you’re not just seeing him when you’re running, you’re seeing him when you’re out for coffee, or at the grocery store, or on your way to work. He’s everywhere, and you have no clue who he is!

The next Saturday morning, he’s out running again, and you just can’t help yourself. You have to talk to him, and it feels like it’s now or never.

He slows his pace as he hears you approaching, lagging behind until you can fall into step beside him.

“Hey,” you greet, trying to ignore the disarming smile he shoots your way because you don’t really want to fall flat on your face in front of him.

“I couldn’t help but notice you around town. Are you new?” He lets out a breathy laugh, the sunlight glistening off his sweat-covered skin; normally, you think you’d be disgusted, but you can’t help but find him handsome.

“Yeah,” he says. “I’m Jackson, it’s nice to meet you." He stops running just to shake your hand, and in the moment it takes for you to notice that and turn around, you can already feel yourself falling. His hand is warm, slightly calloused, and fits perfectly against yours. You can’t help but smile; somehow, just being near him, you feel energized.

“You, too.”

“Wanna grab coffee sometime?” He asks, beaming at you. And, well, how could you say no?

You leave the park with his number in your phone, and an unexpected spring in your step.

Jackson had noticed you long before you’d noticed him. In fact, he’d been living in the area a little longer than you thought he had, and only because he’d taken such care to scope the area out before moving in. He had to be sure there wouldn’t be trouble for him here, and that his contact with Olympus wouldn’t be obstructed in any way.

He’d first noticed you exiting a coffee shop. The look on your face was so blissful as you took a sip of your drink that he had to go in and try it for himself.

And just like that, he was hooked — on you and the coffee.

It wasn’t all about getting to know you at first. After all, he still needed to know the area he’d be living in! But then he couldn’t stop thinking about you, and he couldn’t remember the last time a mortal had made him feel the way he did when he looked at you.

So he just happened to take his daily runs on the same path as you, when he could have chosen any other place. And just happened to be taking you to your favorite coffee shop on your first date.

Yes, he intended it to be a date. He was hoping you would feel the same way by the end of it — and not just because of his godly charm. He was, after all, a supernatural being; if he wanted you, he could have you, but he had better morals than Zeus at least. Besides, it had been a long time since he’d properly flirted with and gotten to know someone — and he decided he wanted to take his time with you.

(Or, well, as much as he could stand to. He had speed built into him, adrenaline always coursing through his veins. Slow, for him, was probably not the same as slow for you.)

“So,” he says, sitting across from you in a corner table. The sun hits you just right, casting a golden halo around your head, and Jackson leans onto his elbows on the table, propping his chin in his hands as he admires you. “You’ve seen me around?” At his teasing, you startle and it takes a few coughs for you to get your bearings again.

“I, um— yeah. At the park, and stuff.”

“And stuff?” He repeats, raising one eyebrow. As he watches the expression on your face shift from embarrassment to playful irritation, realizing what he’s getting at, Jackson feels his heart skip a beat. He wishes he could keep this moment in the forefront of his mind forever, the pout on your lips so enticing he can’t help but want to kiss you. It’s shocking to him that he’s already so invested, so lost in your eyes.

“Wouldn’t you like to know,” you reply, a playful twinkle in your eye.

He realizes, right then and there, you might be more bewitching and dangerous than Aphrodite herself (though he’d never say such a thing in her presence), and he’s in real trouble. And he doesn’t mind that one bit. What’s life without a little danger?

Jackson is the perfect gentleman. He’s always considerate, holding the door open for you and insisting on paying; showing up early, usually with flowers; memorizing your favorite drink at your favorite cafe within the first handful of dates. It’s incredible, really — you’d thought he was just your average charmer at first, but as you get to know him you realize how genuine his charm actually is. Although he’s certainly handsome and playful, the real charm of him lies below the surface in the type of person he is.

Which is why, when he suddenly stops replying to your texts one day when you’re supposed to have a date, it feels very out of character. Jackson is usually the type to be up before dawn, messaging you just as early with pictures of a cute dog he encountered on his run or just asking if you’re ready for your date — he’s never once been late, and you never imagined he would be the type to stand you up without any reason.

And yet, when the time he’s supposed to pick you up comes around, there’s no sign of him. Your texts remain unanswered, calls going to voicemail, and at first you’re more worried than upset. You turn on the news, wondering if there’s been some kind of major accident, but there’s nothing of note that comes up on the traffic report. Slowly, your anxiety turns to aggravation, which eventually fades into self-pity. By the time three hours have passed, you can’t find a reason to keep your makeup on — so you shuffle miserably to the bathroom and wipe away the work you’d done hours before, and then hop in the shower because you can feel the tears coming on and refuse to just sit around crying on the couch. It’s more cathartic to cry in the shower, anyways.

You continue your pity party by slipping into an Eeyore onesie your friend bought you as a gag gift last year, yanking up the hood for maximum warmth as you make yourself a cup of tea and begin raiding your snack shelf for anything and everything self-indulgent. As you lug all these things into your living room, fully prepared to set up camp on the couch for the next few hours, a loud knock sounds at your door. It’s urgent, but not excessively loud, and you slowly make your way to the door and peer through the peephole—

And there’s Jackson, sweat clinging to his brow, panting like he just finished a marathon. You hate that you can’t even manage to scowl at him when you open the door.

“Y/N!” He greets, looking ecstatic for a moment before the guilt returns to his features, making him look like a kicked puppy. “I’m so, so sorry about today, but I can explain, I promise! But, like, if you never want to see me again, I get it—”

As he rambles, you find yourself stepping aside and opening your door for him. A small smile finds its way onto your face as you interrupt him,

“I’ll hear you out, but only because you look so miserable. Come on.”

You get him a glass of water before settling on the opposite end of the couch from him. Jackson downs half of it in one gulp, thanking you breathlessly before clearing his throat and schooling his expression into one that’s more somber.

“Okay, I know I said I could explain, but I… it’s going to sound weird, okay?” You furrow your brows in confusion, but nod for him to go on, nonetheless.

“I missed our date and didn’t respond to your messages because I was, um,” he pauses, licks his lips, then continues more softly, “in the underworld. I’m not actually human, I’m, uh, I’m Hermes. The Greek god. You know?”

There aren’t even crickets to fill the silence between you. Jackson stares into your eyes with his earnest, dark ones, and you feel your throat close up a bit. You avert your gaze to hide the tears you can feel welling up.

“Wow,” you scoff, softly. “You know, Jackson, if you didn’t like me you could’ve just said that—”

“I’m serious!” He cries, taking hold of both of your hands. “Just, okay, hold on a second.” Before you can reply, Jackson is pulling his hands away from yours and reaching down to pull off his socks. As you look up at him in confusion, willing yourself to ask him what the hell is going on, you notice that his skin seems to be shimmering slightly and his once dark irises have turned to gold. Without any hesitation, Jackson lifts his leg up, hands clasped behind his knee so his ankle is almost at your eye level.

It’s almost comical, you think. He must be insane, but then you actually look at his ankle in front of you and realize you must be the crazy one.

Because there’s a wing. An honest-to-God, white-feathered wing sprouting out of his ankle on the exterior side. It’s small, but it’s there, and when you tentatively reach out to touch it with the thought that maybe this is just an elaborate prank, it actually flutters.

The next thing you remember is waking up to see Jackson sitting nervously on the floor beside your couch, staring at you intently as he grips tightly onto one of your hands.

“Oh, thank goodness,” he breathes when you finally open your eyes. “Listen, I am so sorry, I’ve never— I didn’t know how to prove it to you but that was really dumb, I’m so sorry—”

“I— that wasn’t a dream?” You squeak, and you notice Jackson’s eyes still have a little gold left in them. It’s answer enough for you, and as you sit up on the couch Jackson gently places a hand against your back, bracing you in case you pass out again. You run a hand through your hair, letting out a long breath. Eventually, you lift your gaze to meet his,

“So, what you’re saying is there’s no cell service in the underworld?” You ask. Relief washes over Jackson’s features, a smile gracing his lips, and neither of you can help but laugh at the absurdity of the situation.

And that’s how you start dating Jackson, aka Hermes, the messenger of the Greek gods.

You had been half joking about there being no cell service in the underworld, but it turned out you were right. The results of this were handfuls of missed dates, because Jackson, true to his godly nature, was the type of person who had trouble being patient. Most times he got an assignment from the Big Guys Upstairs and started on his way without even thinking about you or how you might be waiting for him to send you a message.

You also learned the hard way that time worked differently down there, aka your boyfriend had no concept of it.

It was extremely worrisome at first. More than being frustrated at him disappearing, you were frightened — what if he wasn’t on a supernatural mission but got hit by a car or something? Did he even have emergency contacts? Did he need them?

Dating was confusing, even more so when your boyfriend is a god who sometimes goes radio silent for days at a time. Sometimes you wish there was some Olympian hotline, just so you could call up and ask if he was okay. All you ever wanted, really, was to know that. It didn’t matter to you if he missed dates for something as important as godly work, but was it too much to ask for a text in advance when he got word of a new assignment?

Were you really as insignificant to him as that?

But then Jackson would come home and you’d forgive him with his puppy dog eyes and remind yourself how lucky you were to be with someone like Jackson; not only because he was a god and you were a mortal, but because he was such a doting, perfect boyfriend when he was around. So you pushed any misgivings you had aside for his sake, trying to enjoy all the time you could with him, ignoring how the frustration piled up in the corners of your mind.

It would be wrong to say that Jackson was the only one who had to go away on business from time to time, although you certainly went less often than he did — and your trips always had a general sense of structure. And cell service.

You’d been chosen by your company to go as a representative on a week-long trip to negotiate a contract with a firm in Japan. It was exciting, and quite the opportunity, but it ran you ragged. After spending three hours on a plane and more than that in airports, going through customs and lugging your bags around, you’re more than excited to be back on familiar soil. And even that pales in comparison to the thought of seeing Jackson again. You can’t help the goofy grin that spreads across your features as you imagine running into his arms for the first time in a week — somehow, it feels so much longer than that, but maybe it’s because he was away on his own business until the crack of dawn the morning you left. Those short, meager hours together in bed weren’t nearly enough to get you through a whole business trip.

The forecast is calling for rain, but thankfully the weather hasn’t turned just yet, although it’s chilly enough to have you longing for your space heater of a boyfriend even more. You pull out your phone to text him that you’re at the departures area, waiting just inside the doors; you know he’ll get concerned if you wait outside.

The message is delivered. Just like the one you sent when your plane finally taxied in over ten minutes ago.

Jackson is the type to respond to messages fast, especially when they’re from you. He’s a little clingy like that, and especially so after you’ve been gone for a while. But as you stand around, watching people cart their luggage out to cars and reunite with their own loved ones, you can’t help but feel increasingly impatient.

Five minutes pass. Then ten. Fifteen. Your phone has been put on low-power mode, sitting at nineteen percent, and you shift the weight of your duffel around on your shoulder to try and ease the ache in your neck.

In a last ditch effort fueled by irritation, sleep deprivation, and hunger from skipping lunch because everything at the airport is overpriced, you try calling Jackson.

It goes to voicemail. You frown, because you know exactly what that means, and you hate that you aren’t surprised by it at all. A glance out the glass doors shows you that it’s started raining, and you feel your shoulders slump — as soon as you manage to hail a taxi outside, you nearly start crying in the backseat. If the driver notices your foul mood, he doesn’t mention anything; he actually just turns the radio up for you a bit, which you appreciate. You’re in no mood to talk.

The apartment is cold and empty when you get in, meaning your boyfriend probably hasn’t been around for at least a day — he would’ve turned the heat on for you, at least, if he had. You drop your duffel by the shoe rack and trudge into the kitchen, wanting nothing more than a home-cooked meal, even if it’s leftovers—

The fridge is sparse. Any and all leftovers have obviously been consumed by your boyfriend, and with how cold the apartment is yogurt just doesn’t sound appetizing. You shut the door with more force than necessary, the sound echoing through the apartment as you dig out a cheap packet of instant ramen and a bowl, shoving it in the microwave. As the mechanical whir fills the otherwise empty apartment, you plug your phone into the extra charger on the kitchen counter.

When it powers up, you find no new messages on your screen, and the ones you’ve sent to Jackson remain unseen.

You get over it. You always do, especially when you wake up to Jackson cooking you a massive apology breakfast in the kitchen.

It’s a routine. You can’t stay mad at him — in part because you love him, but also because you’re too tired to stay mad at him. If you let every little setback like this piss you off, then the relationship would die. You tell yourself it’s up to you to keep the peace; you agreed to date a god, and so you should’ve expected it.

You try to ignore the ache in your chest when you press your face into his shoulder, allowing him to press apologetic kisses to the crown of your head and smooth down the wrinkles the his shirt you’d slept in. Your anger seeps into the cracks, unseen and for all you care, forgotten.

It’s the perfect evening. You’re clinging to Jackson’s arm as he guides you towards the restaurant your coworker has been hyping up for weeks. You have reservations, and your boyfriend is wearing a suit and keeps telling you how beautiful you look — it’s perfect.

Friday nights are good date nights, and because of that the restaurant is extremely crowded. You’re glad you thought ahead to get a reservation for you and Jackson, and gaze around the warmly-lit establishment in childlike wonder. Jackson holds your hand across the table, using the other to peruse the menu. After a few minutes of doing the same, you lift your eyes from the page to your boyfriend’s handsome face.

“What are you thinking?” You ask, folding your own menu and setting it aside.

“Your coworker said their pasta was good, right?” You nod, listening to Jackson as he discusses the two options he’s stuck between, and when he starts getting pouty over the decision you giggle and squeeze his hand.

“How about you get one and I get the other, and we can split?” His eyes light up at your suggestion. He lifts your hand from the table and presses a kiss to your knuckles, beaming,

“This is why I love you.”

“Because I share food with you?” You ask, laughing, and Jackson shakes his head, smiling gently at you from across the table. His skin almost glows in the warm golden lighting.

“No, because—”

A familiar ringtone fills the air between you, and Jackson leans back in his seat. His hand slips from your without even a moment’s hesitation as he pulls his phone from his pocket, answering it without even apologizing to you. You swallow hard, throat suddenly feeling very dry.

Only a few seconds later, his chair is pushed back and he’s standing beside you.

“I have to go,” he says, pressing a quick kiss to your forehead. “Don’t wait up, okay? Enjoy the dinner.”

The waiter arrives with your drinks as Jackson leaves the restaurant. You can’t even bring yourself to watch him go, just listening to his footsteps until they disappear below the murmurs around you.

“Is something wrong?” The waiter asks. You shoot him a weak smile, feeling unbearably cold all of a sudden.

“Ah, I’m sorry, but I’ll need to get the orders to-go. Something has come up.” You’re grateful that the waiter merely nods and takes down your order, saying nothing more than is necessary. The guy even packs up some breadsticks for you, since you hadn’t even gotten that far, and within twenty minutes you’re walking alone down the sidewalk you’d just walked up with Jackson not even an hour before. There are people all around you, but somehow all you can hear is the sound of your solitary feet hitting the pavement as you make your way to the apartment.

It was supposed to be a perfect evening. You’d go out to dinner and Jackson would keep telling you how good you looked, and you’d come home and bask in each other for as long as you wanted. It would’ve been a blissful start to the weekend — but now here you are, standing in the doorway with a plastic bag dangling from your wrist.

You don’t bother to reheat your food. You shove Jackson’s box in the fridge and drop to the carpet in your living room, putting on some dumb reality show to try and numb your brain to the waves of loneliness and shame you feel rolling over you. You eat all the breadsticks by yourself, but you still end up leaving some of your pasta for Jackson to try later.

Like many of the nights you spend without Jackson, you end up falling asleep on the couch. Sometimes it’s hard to sleep in a bed without him.

You wake up to an empty apartment. You drag yourself off the couch and into the kitchen to wash your dishes from the night before. It sucks being without Jackson, sucks even more that you still feel embarrassed about the night before at that wonderful restaurant, but you know that at least the apartment will look nice when he comes back. Before you can start overthinking, you start a pot of coffee and begin spraying down the counters. The busier your body is, the less time you have to think.

Saturday passes in a whirlwind of cleaning supplies and music turned up high so you don’t have to hear yourself think. Sunday drags along, with you desperately thinking of errands to run and completing them in no time at all. You spend the afternoon binge-watching a drama, and that night when you open the fridge you’re confronted once again by Jackson’s leftovers on the glass shelf.

You avert your gaze and pull out the leftovers of your own pasta, which you’d initially intended for him. It may have been a petty thing to do, really, but you didn’t care much about if he thought you were being petty. He wouldn’t dare to bring it up anyways. The two of you never talked about things that upset you, especially not right after he came home from a trip to the underworld. You manage to fall asleep alone in bed this time.

Monday dawns with no sign of your boyfriend, and you try to ease the worry in your heart, but nothing except for seeing him could possibly make you feel any better. You go through work on autopilot, wishing you could just get over this already. It isn’t like it’s anything new, anyways.

You eat his leftovers that night, because he’s nowhere to be seen and you can’t stand to see it go to waste. It tastes like ashes in your mouth.

He finally comes back on Wednesday night. You should be asleep, but you just couldn’t get your mind to stop running in circles, so you trudged back into the living room and sat down to watch some mindless TV with a cup of tea. It almost works, maybe, except that the clicking of the front door unlocking snaps you out of your half-asleep state.

The two of you rarely fight, but this time you can’t help it. The moment he walks in from the entryway, you feel the annoyance and rage of the past two years bubbling to the surface, unable to be contained.

“Hey,” he greets, sounding tired but not unhappy. He leans down to press a kiss to your cheek and you hardly even blink, eyes still focused on the television. If he notices, he doesn’t say anything, just moves towards the kitchen and somehow that makes you even angrier. You clench your jaw, the words coming out sharp as you hear him rifling around in the drawer for a set of chopsticks,

“Aren’t you going to say anything else?” The rifling doesn’t stop, like he doesn’t even notice the change in your tone. Is he even around enough to notice something so small anymore?

“What do you mean?” He asks, stuffing some noodles into his mouth. You turn your cold gaze onto him, finding yourself infuriated with his casual pose, leaning against the doorframe as though he hasn’t a care in the world.

“I don’t know, maybe a sorry for leaving in the middle of our date?” Jackson swallows his bite and sets his bowl down, slowly making his way to the couch. He sits down beside you, turning his knees in towards yours, and slowly pulls both of your hands off of your lap and into his own. He takes a deep breath before speaking,

“Babe, you know I didn’t want to leave—”

“Do I?” You ask, “Do I know that, Jackson? You barely even hesitated to leave me there alone!” You snatch your hands away and stand up abruptly, feeling your head begin to ache with oncoming tears.

“Do you know how— how embarrassing it was to have to tell the waiter I wanted the food to-go? And then to walk all the way back here by myself, and eat by myself?”

Your boyfriend merely stares at you from his seat on the couch, slack-jawed. Suddenly, you find your vision to blurry to see him clearly, and you shake your head.

“Whatever, I’m going to bed.”

It doesn’t surprise either of you when you lock the bedroom door behind you.

Unlike any other fight you’ve ever had with Jackson, the anger from this one seeps into the next day. You avoid him in the morning before work, but you can’t seem to do so once you get home. Jackson is lying on the couch, eyes shut tight, and you shuffle quietly into the kitchen to start making dinner.

You bring him a bowl to the living room, the sound of the ceramic settling on the wood waking him from his nap. His eyes are bloodshot and bleary; he probably didn’t sleep much last night, if at all, and you almost feel a little bit guilty. Instead, you just avert your eyes when he thanks you for dinner, and begin shoveling the food into your mouth.

But the tension continues building, like a string being pulled taut, and eventually you can’t take the silence anymore. You lick your lips nervously and set your bowl on the counter, staring at the traces of sauce left on the inside.

“So,” you start, voice small. “Are we gonna talk about it?

Jackson groans. Out of the corner of your eye you see him rub his face with his hands, keeping them over his eyes for a moment longer as he huffs a long breath out of his nose.

“Can’t it wait, Y/N? I’m exhausted.” Again, you almost pity him — but then, for a moment, you pity yourself as well. Where has he been when you’re exhausted, when you need him? Your mind goes back to standing in departures, waiting for a call that never came, and your blood runs hot.

“No, it can’t wait, Jackson,” you reply coldly. “Not anymore.”

“What do you mean ‘not anymore’? I’m just asking for one night—”

“You can’t promise that!” You interrupt. “You can’t promise it will only be one night! I want— I need to talk about this before you leave again, or I might really not be able to do this anymore.” At that, Jackson’s posture stiffens. He lifts his face from his hands and turns to look at you, panic evident in his eyes.

“What does that mean?”

“It means exactly what I said! I can’t wait around for you forever,” you snap, and Jackson finds himself speechless. Suddenly, all the anger that had wound your muscles tight like a spring snaps, leaving your shoulders sagging, your expression hollow,

“I don’t have forever, Jackson.”

His heart constricts, his throat tightening along with it. His mouth opens, but no sound comes out, and you simply stare him down in the silence of the apartment. Jackson wants nothing more than to take you into his arms and smother you with his apologies, prove his love to you, but the familiar chime sounds from the watch on his wrist.

“I— Y/N, you know… I can’t just…”

Normally, after an argument like this, you’d scoff. This time, there are no snide remarks, only a tired look in your eyes where the smile doesn’t reach. You jerk your chin slightly towards the front door.

“Go on, then,” you say. It’s as he slips out the door he hears something that makes his heart drop:

“Hermes.”

In his younger years, it had seemed like a cool thing to be the only god allowed to come and go from the underworld as he pleased. The thing is, as with anything else, it tends to lose its luster in the face of monotony.

This trip had been particularly hellish (pun intended) because Cerberus just needed attention, and needed it right then. April was always the worst for Hades; no matter how many years passed he still pouted relentlessly when Persephone had to leave and would spend the next few months moping. As such, his three-headed dog wasn’t exactly getting the most attention. And who was Jackson to deny Cerberus that? The poor pup didn’t know any better.

He didn’t have his bearings at first, but once he emerged back into the mortal world he found that it was nighttime. After a moment his watch readjusted to his earthly time: it had been almost a full week since he’d left.

Meaning it had been almost a full week since your fight.

Thinking back on it, Jackson finds himself filled with shame. You were right, of course — he doesn’t have the best work-life balance, mostly because he’s never needed to. He had never considered bringing a mortal into his life, and even when he asked you to be with him he selfishly pushed your needs and feelings aside in order to do his job. When was the last time he’d really heard you out? When was the last time he did something nice for you, even asked you about your life or what you needed or how you were doing?

How was it that he had all the time in the world and then some, and yet he couldn’t make any for you?

On his way back to your apartment, he stops by the one convenience store still open and buys as many of your favorite candy bars as he could. The cashier gives him a weird look, but all he can think about is how he’s going to apologize when he inevitably wakes you from your slumber.

A feeling overtakes him as he walks up the stairs in your building. A sudden onslaught of nerves, unusual for him considering his outgoing nature. It causes him to pick up the pace, going two steps at a time up to your floor until finally he bursts out into the hallway, feeling as though he can barely breathe from the tightness in his chest.

He fishes the spare key out of his pocket. It doesn’t fit the lock. At the moment, all he can do is scoff at how petty that is of you, to change the locks on him — especially when he doesn’t need a key to get through a door.

But then he enters the apartment.

It’s empty. Your shoes aren’t by the door, your furniture is gone. There are indents from your couch legs still in the living room carpet, but the kitchen as spotless and so are all the walls, he realizes, as he stumbles through the hall in a sudden haze.

There’s nothing. Not in the medicine cabinet, not in the closet where you keep your towels— even the scent of you seems to be fading and Jackson suddenly finds himself weak in the knees, leaning heavily on the doorframe to your bedroom so he doesn’t fall to the floor.

The moonlight through the window pours straight onto the center of the floor, unobstructed in the absence of your bed.

Jackson forces himself through to your en-suite bathroom, feeling suddenly sick to his stomach, his pulse racing. He stares down into the white bowl of the sink, willing his vision to become clear once again.

Slowly, his gaze raises up to meet the eyes of his reflection. His eternally young face stares back at him, once a point of pride, now only a crushing reminder of the last words of your argument. I don’t have forever.

“What good is forever without you?” He asks, although he knows you aren’t there to hear him. You didn’t leave even the faintest trace of yourself. Jackson allows a handful of hot tears to run down his face before turning and making his way out of the apartment. As he pulls the door shut behind him, he prepares to do what he does best—

He runs.

#jackson wang #got7 jackson #got7 scenarios #got7 reactions #got7 fanfic #got7 fanfiction #got7 texts #got7 writings #kpop fanfiction #kpop reactions #kpop writing #kpop scenarios #kpop texts #My writing #jackson scenarios

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raendown · 4 years

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My part of a trade with @rookie-d and boy was this fun to write!

Pairing: MadaraTobirama Word count: 3477 Rated: T+ Summary: Madara hated the morning shift. It was always boring and getting up early sucked. Thankfully the one time he had to work it something interesting happened, at least.

Follow the link or read it under the cut!

KO-FI and commission info in the header!

Zombies Before Noon

Their first meeting was one that Madara would remember for all the reasons Tobirama probably wished he would forget. Several hours in to a criminally early morning shift he was bored out of his skull and wondering why the hell a comic book shop needed to be open before any of the local nerds around here were even awake. He’d already tidied the shelves four times and dusted the entire premises twice when the cheery jingle of the bell over their door made him lift his head hopefully. That look quickly morphed in to horror as he took in the sight of what was clearly a zombie entering the store.

Skin so pale it looked almost paper white, circles under his eyes so dark they looked drawn on with marker, and clothes rumpled like they hadn’t seen an ironing board in years, the man who stumbled in had his eyes completely closed and his arms hanging loose at both sides. Only three steps in he stopped dead and just stood there. Motionless. Possibly not breathing. Madara looked around for a hidden camera, wondering if his younger brother had set him up for some kind of weird prank. That was the sort of thing Izuna would do. Nothing new or suspicious stuck out to him, though, so he turned back to the stranger who was now slowly blinking his eyes open. Well, partially open. They remained squinted so tightly he probably couldn’t see any better still.

“Coffee?” he rumbled in a deep slur. Madara looked around for cameras again.

“Uh, we don’t serve that here.”

“...black.”

Furrowing his brows, Madara repeated himself. “We don’t serve coffee.”

The pale man blinked slowly with a gaze that didn’t seem to really be focused on anything.

“Extra espresso…” his words trailed off like he meant to continue with something off and yet nothing came. After almost a full minute he managed to close his jaw again with a muted click. Then he merely stood and let his narrowed eyes bore directly in to Madara’s.

It was the single creepiest thing this shop had ever seen. And considering the varying clientele that was saying something.

For a good hot second Madara contemplated reaching in to his pocket and calling the police. Or maybe the Disease Center. Either one of them would no doubt be very interested in this spontaneous zombie apocalypse. Then the moment passed and he realized this was probably the most interesting thing that was likely to happen to him until the early afternoon crowd began to show up near the very end of his shift. He might as well see how it played out.

“Would an energy drink do you? We’ve got all sorts of those. Pretty cheap too.”

“....mn.”

Since he wasn’t very sure what that meant Madara opted for believing he’d just made a sale. Trying to ask questions about flavor and the like would most likely get about as coherent an answer as the ones he’d already gotten so after a moment of going through their inventory in his mind he stepped over to the fridge behind the counter to pick out the highest concentration of caffeine they carried. It also happened to be one of their cheaper brands as well, which was great in case he ended up having to pay for this himself. Did zombies remember how to pick out money from their wallets?

Did zombies even carry their wallets?

“Here. These don’t really taste all that great but it’s got enough of a kick to revive you or whatever.”

A few seconds after he handed it over he realized his mistake. The oddly still man blinked slowly when Madara cracked the can open for him but finally seemed to understand that there was a liquid in his hand he was meant to drink. His head tilted back to reveal a surprisingly shapely throat that bobbed up and down in a steady rhythm until the entire can was emptied, hung there unmoving for a few seconds more, then his head tilted back down with an honest to god pout on his face. Apparently he’d thought the can was bottomless.

“Right. Feel free to browse or whatever before you come settle up. Register’s over there.” Madara jabbed a thumb over his shoulder. “If you pass out try to fall away from the merchandise.”

“Nnmm.”

“Oookay.”

Scurrying back to the register was more for the sake of anyone looking in through the windows on their way by than for his own sense of safety. He really didn’t need anyone to call his boss and say they spotted him stalking a customer in his own store. At least he had a comfortable perch from which he could survey the entire floor, set out in a semi circle as it was, giving him a perfect view down each of their short aisles. No matter where this one man circus drifted he would be within eyesight. Madara watched with undisguised fascination while the guy drifted down aisle three, staring hard at a display entirely covered with merchandise for a popular children’s show about brightly colored ponies. The empty drink can remained clutched tightly in one fist.

With drunken steps he wound his way out of that section and in to aisle five. Despite staring directly at their selection of comics for a particular super hero universe Madara got the impression he wasn’t actually seeing any of them. Either he was hopelessly lost inside his own head or he had astrally projected so hard he wouldn’t find himself for another week. Just as the man lifted his hand, perhaps at last to interact with the world around him, the door of the shop jingled violently open to admit a harried looking woman.

“There you are!” she screeched. Without even sparing a look around the rest of the open space she marched around a display of new releases and clapped a hand down on the zombie man’s shoulder. “I have been looking for you for over an hour, you absolute dick! Do you know how worried we’ve been? Your brother would have taken my damn head off if anything happened to you on my watch!”

“...nm?”

“Oh for fuck’s sake!”

Pinching the bridge of her nose, the woman shook her head and finally looked around. The fact that there weren’t any other customers seemed to console her a little bit, probably relieved there weren’t more witnesses to her bad skills at keeping track of one man. When her eyes looked on to Madara he refused to quail under the force of her glare. A part of him sort of wanted to. He spent as much time in the gym as the next self-conscious guy but the look she was giving him promised that she, in fact, was the one with an ability to rip heads. To his absolute shame, he looked away first. But only for long enough for the weight of her gaze to leave him so he could go back to watching this drama unfold in front of him.

“Come on,” she growled, tugging at the man’s sleeve. “Next time this happens I am tying you to the bed until you fucking learn! Did you even pay for that drink? You are so paying me back for this, I don’t care if it’s only a couple bucks!”

It wasn’t all that surprising how little resistance the man offered to being pulled across the floor and back out on to the street, though Madara did give some thought to whether or not he should be calling the police. Should he be reporting assault over this? It was too bad the owners were too cheap to install any real security other than the one camera pointing straight at the door and the one directly over the till. Some proper footage of what happened probably would have made great evidence if someone came back to question him.

For several minutes after he was left suddenly alone Madara stared towards the door and wondered if it was possible that he might have hallucinated everything that just happened. Maybe he’d been reading too many of the comics in here. His mother used to warn him when he was little that using his imagination too much would rot out his common sense - but, then again, she was a cantankerous old bitch who kicked him out as soon as he turned eighteen. He’d never put much stock in anything she had to say. And then there were the coins that crazy lady had tossed over the counter on their way by, that was pretty solid evidence that he wasn’t hallucinating.

Without a live zombie show for entertainment the rest of his shift at the comic shop mostly passed in boredom. Usually he worked the afternoon shifts just for this very reason. The mornings were always dead but he’d had to reschedule an appointment with his doctor three times already and trading shifts today had been the only way he was getting in there without having to wait several more weeks for another open spot. Medical care in their city seriously needed a bigger budget. Desperate to pass the time without resorting to the merchandise he wasn’t supposed to fiddle with on shift, Madara ended up slumped over the front counter doodling on the back of some old receipt paper he found stuffed in to a random drawer. Nearly half the page disappeared under swirls of red ink before he realized that he was drawing a dead, moaning zombie. With a sheepish look around he set the red pen aside and reached for a black one instead. Hopefully that would inspire some less creepy doodles.

As expected, a couple hours before the end of his shift he finally started seeing some customers, his fellow nerds flocking in to check for new issues of the latest detective comic or merchandise for their favorite anime characters. Madara kept a sharp eye on the ones he didn’t recognize and gave no more thought to the entertaining if odd start to his day. After work he scurried off to the bus stop and barely made it to his long overdue doctor’s appointment before stumbling back on to the bus an hour after that with a bandaid on his arm and several vials of blood less in his body.

“M’ home,” he called weakly as he shuffled inside the apartment. Something clattered around the corner, followed quickly by the sound of Izuna swearing.

“Did the appointment go well?” His brother’s voice shouted after him on his way down the hall.

Tossing his jacket through the door of his bedroom, he called back. “Went fine. Had to get some blood pulled. Dumb ass doctor doesn’t think I know my own body enough to tell when I’m having seasonal allergies. He wants to test me for heart disease!”

“But...those aren’t...anki, that makes no sense!”

“I know!” Madara rolled his eyes even though the other couldn’t see him. “Apparently being short of breath because of the all the ragweed means I must be on the verge of a heart attack.”

“Probably got his medical degree out of a cereal box.”

Tired, a little loopy from having too much blood drawn without eating anything, Madara’s thoughts for the rest of his evening were filled mostly with grumbles about incompetant medical staff and listening to Izuna go on about the latest drama from his apprenticeship. Work was so far from his mind he entirely forgot to mention the strange occurrence from that morning. He went to bed that night thinking only that he was grateful his shifts were back to their usual afternoon schedule tomorrow because he certainly didn’t want to wake up early again, his dreams filled with needles that laughed at him while he sneezed uncontrollably.

Several days went by with the usual humdrum of the life Madara and his brother had fallen in to. As much as he despised the morning shift, he loved the afternoons with equal fervor. His job at the comic shop didn’t pay much more than a basic living wage but he loved the environment, loved his regular customers, and he especially loved the hefty discount it gave him on all the nerdy merchandise he couldn’t help filling their home with. Things went about as normally as they usually did in his life until the fourth day when Madara looked up from checking out a regular customer to find the next person in line was an actual walking snack.

Wild hair artfully arranged to somehow look purposefully messy, skin so pale he could be mistaken for an albino, red eyes that Madara would swear could see right down in to his soul, he was already a dreamboat even without taking in the deliciously toned rest of his body. Something about him looked familiar but it was hard to concentrate past the broad shoulders standing straight and tall.

“Can I - ahem - how can I help you?” Madara fought with his cheeks not to flush bright red and prayed that no one would comment on the massive crack his voice had just done.

“You wouldn’t happen to be Madara, would you?” the man asked in a deep rumble. “Your coworkers described you to me when I came in here yesterday.”

“I am, yes. Uh...is there something wrong?”

Shaking his head, the man coughed a little as though feeling uncomfortable. “No, no. I only wanted to come in and thank you for not kicking me out of your store the other day. I was, ah, fairly ill at the time and my behavior was not the best. Several shops had already sent me on my way but you allowed me to stay in one place long enough for my cousin to catch up so I wanted to say thank you for letting me stay somewhere safe. Anything could have happened to me in that state.”

For a second Madara tried to subtly look the man up and down, trying to determine if he was lying or not. Surely this couldn’t be the same guy? It was only after he mentally added some black streaks under the eyes, hunched the shoulders, and squinted the eyes that he realized it was. This was his zombie customer.

“You don’t look the same at all!” was the first thing his stupid mouth chose to blurt out.

“Ah. Thank you, I think.” The man coughed awkwardly again. “I’m told I look fairly awful whenever I work myself in to sleep deprivation.”

“Oh is that why you were acting so much like a zombie? Wait no! Shit! Sorry, that was rude! Um, shit- gah, I’m not supposed to swear, fuck. Damn it!” Exasperated with his own lack of self control, Madara smacked a hand over his face. Nearby one of his regulars could be heard snickering but glaring them in to silence would have meant removing his hand and facing the hot stranger who’d made him splutter.

To his eternal relief, no comments were made about his verbal idiocy, although he could definitely hear traces of amusement in the man’s tone when he continued speaking.

“Yes, unfortunately I have a habit of getting a little too involved in my studies. Exams are coming up so I’ve only been sleeping about two or three hours a night and it, ah, finally caught up to me apparently. I don’t remember much but my cousin tells me I wandered out of her house sometime around six in the morning and she didn’t find me until, er, whenever it was she found me in here.” After scratching at the back of his neck he seemed to jolt himself and then held out the same hand. “I’m Tobirama, by the way.”

“Madara. But um, you apparently already knew that.”

They shook hands, at which point Madara realized the other man’s incredible height also came with massive hands that practically engulfed his own. He really hoped he wasn’t blushing as brightly as it felt like he was.

“So you live around here then?” he asked. Then he wanted to slap himself again because that was probably way too personal of a question.

“Not really. Well, not yet. I’m staying with my cousin so I can take some courses at the university but my brother is thinking of moving back to town so I’ll probably move back in with him if he does.”

“Back to town?” Madara perked up. “So you’re from around here originally?”

Tobirama nodded. “We grew up in the west end.”

“No kidding? Me too.” Squinting, Madara tried to determine whether they might have crossed paths when they were younger. The man did sort of look familiar but age could change a lot about a person and it wasn’t like he’d kept contact with anyone from that end of town. Not after he’d been summarily tossed to the curb.

His closer interest did not go unnoticed. For a moment he flushed even deeper than he already was, thinking Tobirama might have been offended by his scrutiny. Then his ears were flaming for another reason entirely and he couldn’t even bring himself to be upset about the misunderstanding when the other leaned in just a bit closer with a slow smile.

“I don’t suppose you’d like to go for coffee sometime?” he asked. “As a thank you, of course.”

“On one condition,” Madara told him, feeling suddenly bold.

“Do tell.” Tobirama looked even more amused by his request. He leaned farther down to rest his weight on both elbows to patiently await the condition he would supposedly need to meet.

“If you can describe the premise behind any of the comics in this store then you’ve got yourself a date. I’ve had too many people try and steer me away from ‘childish interests’ and think they can ‘help me grow up’.”

After breaking up with the fourth person in a row who mocked him for his interests Madara had made a pact with himself to never again date anyone who didn’t accept him for who he was and what he loved. He might be a massive nerd but he’d learned the lesson of self value a long time ago and he wasn’t about to let himself be blinded by a pretty face again.

To his utter delight, he needn't have worried this time. With a competitive sort of light in his eye Tobirama pointed out half a dozen different comics within eyesight and not only named the main characters but also the basis of the main plot for each of them. What made it all the more impressive was that he mostly chose rather obscure franchises that couldn’t be considered mainstream. Madara was half in love before he was finished describing the third one. Handsome, intelligent enough for university, and apparently in to the same geeky stuff as him? Sign him up. Immediately.

“Okay, okay, point made!” Throwing up his hands in surrender made Tobirama smile. “You mentioned your exams are coming up so I’m guessing you’ll be busy for the next little while. Why don’t I give you my number and we can go out for coffee to celebrate after you don’t need to study so much?”

“I would appreciate that a lot,” Tobirama murmured earnestly.

“School’s obviously important to you if you’ll work yourself in to a zombie state over it,” Madara pointed out.

He got a grateful look that made his stomach flip flop. Rather than make a fool of himself again he printed off a bit of blank receipt paper and wrote his number down, sliding it across the counter. He expected Tobirama to slip the paper in to his pocket but instead he pulled out a beaten up cell phone and entered the number right there, smiling to himself like he'd won an unexpected treat.

“I’m sure Hashirama will be thrilled to know I’m finally being more social.”

Madara nearly stopped breathing. All the triumph of having secured a very promising date suddenly drained right out of him as he stared at the man across the counter in horror, several little clues falling in to place at once. Finally he’d figured out why Tobirama looked familiar and it wasn’t because he’d seen him in zombie form. Images of his childhood best friend danced across his memories.

“You’re...you’re Hashirama’s little brother,” he whimpered. “Oh god. Oh god! He’s going to kill me! He’s going to come back to Konoha just to cut all my hair off in a bowl cut to match his!”

While Tobirama stared at him with a mixture of horror and amusement Madara decided that as long as he got that date first he didn’t much care how he died. One conversation - and one look at those well defined biceps - was all he’d needed to know that Tobirama would be well worth it.

#rae writes #madatobi #madara #tobirama #modern au #fanfiction

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dehydratedpool · 4 years

Text

hi!! so i saw a couple other writers on here do this (the one i remember is @soldouthaz lol hi) and i thought it would be fun to do even tho i didn’t get tagged [aka, i do what i want >:)] ((also ps sorry this is late))

2020 was an incredibly rough year for me, which made writing/creating even harder. soooo here’s my self evaluation on the dreadful year lol;

1. number of stories posted in 2020: 5

2. total word count: 133,496 wOaH

3. list of works published:

hath made thee a sinner

there’s blood on my tongue

my beastly (currently on hold, going through a rewrite/re-plan lol)

i’m so tired

warm

4. work you are most proud of (and why):

i would have to say “hath made thee a sinner”. it took me FOREVER to write, mostly because 1) i wanted to get my own coming out story right, i wanted to share my experience in a way that also made it a good read, and 2) i was writing about three sensitive topics; Christianity, physical violence and coming out of the closet, and i wanted to be sure i didn’t get those things wrong. louis and harry’s coming out in the fic slightly relates to my own, but i wanted it to be relatable to others who’ve gone through the same thing. ((fun fact: the speech harry makes is 90% copied from my own coming out post on Facebook LMFAO))

5. work you are least proud of (and why):

it’s not that i hate “my beastly”, i just wish i started it’s execution better. it’s been an idea of mine for several years, one i started writing on wattpad and then abandoned for whatever reason. i have yet to complete it, and i wanna go back and re-write the entire thing, focus more on character development and world building (which i feel are lacking severely in my beastly). i also want to change the god-awful name that 15 year old me thought was a good idea.

6. a favorite excerpt of your writing:

i have a lot of favorites, but this snippet from “there’s blood on my tongue” was a fun little bit to write. it was kind of comic relief during an uncomfortable scene/chapter:

A loud bang on the door awakened Louis from his thoughts. He watched as Ralph walked over to the door, “Probably my Roger Taylor lookalike of a landlord demanding I pay rent a day early.”

When he opened the door, none other than Lindsey Allen barged through the barely filled apartment, her eyes red, “You!”

Louis swallowed, “Hi?”

“Don’t “hi” me, you little shit,” Lindsey growled, “How the fuck are you so relaxed, so calm right now?”

“How did you find my apartment?” Ralph questioned as Lindsey vibrated with anger.

7. share or describe a fave comment you received:

this comment from “there’s blood on my tongue” SENT ME. i don’t get comments often so when i do it’s always so exciting and i love reading and replying to everyone. honestly, every comment i get always warms my heart, they’re all my favorites, but this one definitely made my day when i saw it ♡

8. a time when writing was really, really hard:

tw // sexual assault, mental illness, PTSD

like i mentioned earlier, this year was a rough one. i got sexually assaulted on a tinder date in january 2020 (i was struggling with accepting that i’m a lesbian and decided to go out with a guy who i thought was nice), and in october 2020 i was coerced into sex with a guy who was trying to turn me straight. so ... those two things were like the cherry on top of an already shitty year.

after the january incident, i admitted myself into a psychiatric hospital after not having been back for 7 years. i was diagnosed with PTSD (along with my other issues i was already aware of lol) and it’s definitely caused a bump in my life.

to answer the question, writing the smut in “there’s blood on my tongue” and “i’m so tired” was incredibly difficult for me. i would get flashbacks while writing a scene, have panic attacks, and delete and rewrite in a vicious cycle until i wrote the bare minimum requirements of smut without hurting myself too badly, haha. i’ve never had an issue with writing smut until now, and i’ve been working on getting better at it and becoming comfortable with the idea of sex/smut again.

9. a scene or character you wrote that surprised you:

i cant say that anything i wrote surprised me, and to be honest, i’m a little disappointed about that. i write what i’m comfortable with, what i know i’m good at, and i would like to explore different tropes and au’s this new year. i wanna get out of my comfort zone and take risks in my writing in 2021

10. how you grew as a writer:

i’ve definitely grown in how i write romantic relationships/smut. when i’m not writing fanfiction, i’m writing historical fiction that doesn’t involve romance. i’m not perfect at it yet, but i’m getting there !!

11. how do you hope to grow this year?

as mentioned in previous answers, i’d like to get more comfortable with writing smut. it’s not that i don’t want to write smut and i’m forcing myself to and thus causing unnecessary pain to myself; it’s as if doing so is helping me heal from my trauma— and it’s FUN to write !

12. who was your greatest positive influence as a writer?

i would have to say anyone who ever read and commented and gave kudos to any of my work ♡ comments and love keep me going and make me excited to share more with the fandom :D

13. did anything from real life show up in your writing?

absolutely! i think that tends to happen whether you intentionally mean to or not. “hath made thee a sinner” was my coming out story with a dash of fiction, i wrote the beginning scenes of “warm” (the descriptions of the night time) based on my time in NYC, and so many other tiny little things. it’s actually kind of fun to add those little easter eggs that no one but myself will get haha

14. any new wisdom you can share with other writers:

PLAN. YOUR. STORY. making plot points has helped me immensely as a writer. i used to free write everything but it made me overwhelmed after a while and i would abandon the wip. by planning out your story, it helps things go smoothly, and it’ll be easier to catch any plot holes you may have. it doesn’t have to be heavily detailed; in fact, i don’t like to add too much detail in mine since i usually think of little things to add as i’m writing ! whether you’re an experienced writer or new to it, planning things out is essential, in my opinion.

15. projects you’re looking for to this year:

i really really really wanna be apart of the BLFF this year! i cant think of other projects that happen throughout the year at the moment, but i wanna join as many as i can !!

————

thank you for reading this, this was a fun way to pass time at work lol. i’m supposed to tag other writers but idk if i really have any writer friends here so just do it if you wanna and tag me so i can read yours !! ♡

#larry stylinson #harry styles #larrie #louis tomlinson #1d #1d fanfic #fanfiction #writeblr #hljournal #hlcreators #2020 writing evaluation #writblr

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