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junova · 4 years

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↬ 𝐬𝐚𝐟𝐞𝐭𝐲 𝐧𝐞𝐭 | 𝐬. 𝐫𝐨𝐠𝐞𝐫𝐬

abstract: the one where steve finds your love letters.

pairing: au!steve x fem!reader

word count: 3K+

warnings: cussing, fluff, angst, crying, slight self-deprecation.

[author’s note]: hey guys! i’m really new to the writing scene so kind words are appreciated! srsly just testing my writing style out and wanted to just post something to motivate me to keep writing. hope u like it. <3

also thank u ari for the inspo and that bomb ass album that saved twenty-twenty. now we just need biden to get elected.

ps. don’t forget to vote! <3

Stevie,

First and foremost, I want you to know how proud of you I am. You have become the man you’ve said you become, the one I always knew you would. You have finally seen what the rest of us see.

A good man.

The soul you carry within you shines brighter than I’ve ever seen. Just for that only, I’m thankful for the time we’ve spent together. Maybe one day, I’ll be brave enough to tell you this without hiding behind the comfort of this notebook. She won’t spill my secrets, fortunate for me.

Some days you have no idea how badly I want to tell you. I think it’s on the days I discover a new fleck of green in your eyes or maybe when you show up to class with a cup of coffee for me without request.

More. More. More.

It’s selfish of me, that much I know. More days than not, I would say you give too much of yourself away. Always wanting to appease everyone, you, Steven Rogers, the bridge to making the people around you happier than they walked in. Even when Bucky drags you into his nonsense bullshit, you say yes without hesitation.

I’ve got not a a clue on how you continue on, how you still remain you when you tend to spread yourself so thin. Who watches out for you? Who cares for you? Who loves the almighty, selfless Rogers?

For me, it’s much easier to pretend you carry too much on your plate than to deal with the rejection I would receive from you. You’re just too good, more than I deserve. More than I would be willing to take. I know I couldn’t possibly give you what you deserve but, I hope that one day you might see me differently. You would see me more than the light I’ve painted myself in.

Even though the shade is lovely, I want to be deeper. Deeper into you on a level which only seems unattainable at this point.

A forever friend. To be in your life, just as a friend, is an reward in itself.

But someday I hope you would love me in the same way I do. It’s all a love struck girl could do. Hope for the best, bet be prepared for the downfall.

With much love, your forever friend.

Tearing the page away from the binding of the overfilled notebook, dispensing it in the first empty drawer you could find, you abandoned the feelings as soon as the pen’s ink bleed out dry.

“You know it would just be easier to tell him how you feel.” You peaked up at the sound of her voice, before realizing she was looming over you, watching your write the letter.

Your supposed, secret letter.

“Nat, please. No.” Opening the drawer, she grabbed the letter but was surprised with just how many she found.

“You’ve got to be kidding me. You’ve written about him multiple times?” You sank in the soft, plush material of your seat hoping that just maybe it would begin to swallow you whole. Hopefully, fast enough were you wouldn’t have to endure the rest of the conversation. One you had been trying to avoid, for the past three years.

“It’s nothing Nat, just forget it.” Just like a Romanov, she couldn’t leave it alone. Even if she tried it was laced in her blood to see any little thing through.

“You really shouldn’t wait so long. A window might close for you, much sooner than you think.” With a curious eyebrow lifted, you felt your breath leave you.

“What does that supposed to mean?” Steve certainly deserved the best and you knew it was only time for him to figure out you would never be enough for him.

“Peggy Carter.” Peggy.

The one girl of a sea of many who had been enamored by Steve. He never really seemed to spend anytime with the women who vied for his attention, but Peggy was surely different than the rest.

Even if Steve was oblivious when it came to the advances everyone would make on him, he saw Peggy. Considering she was the most beautiful woman you had ever seen, she intimidated you. God, did she ever.

On numerous occasions she and Steve had gone out, and even though he assured you they were just friends you were starting to believe he was only trying to protect your feelings. As a friend.

He had never cancelled on you once for her and he would tell you if he had started to date someone, just like he had before.

Even though the entire three years you’d known him he only had one serious girlfriend and after eight months, the pair broke up and even now he still didn’t budge on why they broke up.

“Steve can do whatever he wants with her. He’s a single man. He’s gone out with her before and he’ll probably go with her again.” Then Sam was the next to speak up, dismissing the total bullshit spouting from your mouth.

“Can’t you see he doesn’t want to? The damn man follows you around like a goddamn puppy.” Okay, when did he even come in here?

“God, fuck, no he doesn’t. He would have said something by now, he’s had three years and it’s been nothing but radio silence.” With an all knowing smirk, Sam proposed a new concept into question.

“It has been three years. So, have you ever said anything to him?”

Shit. Fuck you, Wilson.

“W-Well, not exactly.” Sam didn’t have to say anything in response. You knew he was right and you hated it.

Your unwillingness still stood for you, there was just no way he actually would reciprocate your feelings.

“Listen, I think it would be really good for the both of you to air everything out. Peggy is sinking her claws in him and it isn’t too long before they get stuck. Just talk to him.” You nodded silently, but you weren’t sure if you’d ever have the courage to.

—

Emptiness.

It’s all you seemed to feel today. Following you around was a dark cloud, looming over you. Wishing you could be anywhere but your own body. Nothing in particular happened to make you deserve the feeling you were granted with. It just so happened to be one of those days.

From the moment you got out of bed — or rather stayed in bed until four in the afternoon, you felt like anything you would have done just didn’t feel enough. The feeling was fleeting, never staying for more than a day or so, but it made the day drag on. Never ending.

Your muscles sore, body aching from the lack of activity your presumed. Or maybe you had built it in your head too.

Thankfully for you, Nat was busy helping Bucky move into his new place the entire day. She asked if you wanted to help, but mentally you didn’t feel you would be useful for anyone. Simply, telling her you would hang back, claiming you had another an essay to write.

Which you did, you weren’t completely lying, but there was more than your sour mood to blame for your dismissal of social interaction.

You hated to be that girl, the one who needed the presence of men. Specifically, the company of one very beautiful, blue eyed one.

His absence in your life the past few weeks felt heavier on you than you thought it would. You knew from Sam’s intel he had been hanging out with Peggy more and more. He said the two of them were getting close, mercifully sparing you the details.

You hated it’s you’d become. A girl so damn struck over a boy who was giving his attention elsewhere. Upset you were though. Before even if he was busy between classes and his internship at the gallery, he would still text to check up on you.

Now, it was nothing but radio silence letting you draw conclusions on your own. Very, very dangerous territory for you to travel to.

Steve and you are just friends. Get. Over. It.

You thought you’d be alone the rest of the Saturday, especially since it was nearly midnight. Figuring Nat was staying over at Bucky’s and Wanda leaving earlier in early hours of the morning to see her boyfriend for the entire weekend.

Then, an incredibly drunk Steve stumbled into your quaint apartment, the thoughtfully sweetness in him blubbering out with the alcohol flooding through his system. It was like he was on overdrive. More than ready to crash at any given moment.

You had enough when Steve started shamelessly raiding your kitchen, but you remained on the couch attempting to maintain some distance between the two of you. He had a history of being incredibly handsy whenever he had bit too much to drink.

Stumbling his way over to you, almost tripping on the rug, until he was basically cuddling up to your side. His arms latched tightly around you, pulling you into him. Not spared a choice, not that you’d want one.

The security of being wrapped up to him wasn’t something you ever grew tired of. You don’t think there would ever be a time you would ever be capable of turning him away.

“I’ve missed you. It’s been too long.” His soft tone, penetrating the tiny resistance you held towards him. “Me too. I was starting to think you disappeared on me, bubba.”

“Never.” His iron grip holding so tight like he was afraid you’d slip right through.

“Is everything alright?” Trying to pull from him, but Steve seemed unable to let you go. You whispered in his ear, caressing his back.

“I think so.”

“Here, let me grab you cup of joe and some water. Okay? I’ll be right back.” Leaving him a kiss on the cheek, before heading him into the kitchen.

If you had been around him recently, perhaps you would be more in tune with how he was feeling. Then the guilt sept in.

“Sweetheart, do you know where the phone charger is? It’s not by the recliner.” You heard him shout, trying to stop your heart from hammering into your stomach.

Just make him some coffee, sober him up, until he crashes.

Steve always seemed to be a lightweight and somehow whenever he did decide to drink he always found himself routing his way into your home. You thought it was simply for accident alone. The bar he frequented at was only a few block from you.

The past few times he would just stumble into your bedroom, immediately passing out in your soft, silky sheet. Now, he seemed to have more pressing matters at hand.

“Check the drawers, Stevie. I think there’s one you left around here somewhere.” You grabbed the filters and the grounds out, brewing the coffee. Soon, with a black cup of coffee and a water bottle in hand you took note of just how quite he was being.

He was never this silent and it was freaking you out.

“Are you sure you’re o-”

Just like that.

Fuck.

Hunched over, practically on his knees, he read over the endless letters you wrote about him. Confessions never meant to be seen by him. You lost track of how many you had written over the past few years once realized how irrevocably in love with him you are.

He didn’t realize you had found him and you were suddenly paralyzed. Unaware of your presence he continued to read through them and his expression was unrecognizable. One you’d never seen from him before, and you didn’t quite know how to react.

No. He wasn’t grimacing nor did he seem to be elated either. He just stood there just like you, afraid what would happen next.

What did this mean for the two of you? Your entire relationship was purely riding on whatever happened next.

Softly, with a gentle hand, he sifted through them all like he was looking for something specifically. Steve let them fall to the hardwood floors as your shaking hands could no longer support the weight of the dainty coffee cup he had actually sculpted himself.

The glass shattering everywhere, several pieces making their way towards him, thankfully not fiercely enough to penetrate his skin.

Truly, you had never been more sorry than when he looked up at you with tears in his eyes. Threatening to spill over. Because of you.

You didn’t have to be told, you already knew.

Carefully, Steve stood up making his way over to you around the shattered mug. Still you couldn’t bring yourself to move. Simply just watching him until he was right in front of you — more silent than you’d ever seen him before.

“Those were about me. Weren’t they?” You nodded having no reason to lie other than to protect yourself from a rejection you been hoping to spare yourself from.

“I didn’t want you to find out like this. Or at all really.” Your resolve dropping instantly when Steve took a step further gripping by your hips, pulling you closer.

“Why not?” He questioned you, again. Almost like he needed a verbal affirmation of every secret he had just read.

Unintentionally, stealing your soul served for him on a silver platter.

“I know how you’d feel about me, Steve. It’s not how I want it to be and it’s okay.” You remove yourself from him, traveling to the other side of the living room. Suddenly, the apartment seemed suffocating with him in it. “I’m fine, Steve.”

Hearing him sigh in frustration only furthered your immense feeling of being a burden to him.

You’re just one more obstacle he has to deal with.

“One of them dated back for over two years ago. Two fucking years.” His harsh tone, piercing through you like a knife.

“I know. I should have told you.” You whispered, wishing you could disappear into any abyss that would take you. Deeply wishing you just didn’t have to endure for the rest of this conversation. Wishing you could have stopped him from opening that stupid drawer. “I tell you everything, but I just couldn’t bring myself to speak about this. Look at how you’re reacting? How could you blame me when every fear I have about this is justified?”

You really should have kept those elsewhere, not your open, public living room.

“Because it’s us. I’m always here for you.” He was still crying through broken words and you didn’t know why. Almost like you had shattered his resolve and his control leaving with it.

“Not lately. You’ve been otherwise occupied.” Suddenly find the plant in the corner of the room. It certainly weren’t trying to distract yourself from the insatiable cerulean eyes.

The breathtaking british woman wasn’t even here and as soon as she was brought up — there was a wall. Seperating, you from whatever was between the two of you.

“This isn’t my fault. You never said anything. How was I supposed to know you feel that way about me?” He tried to make his way towards you but you just stalked off in the other direction. Circling around the living room like a coward.

“It didn’t matter though, did it? You found someone perfect for you regardless of how you feel.” God, you wish he would just leave so you could let the dam break.

“No. You don’t get to do that. Since the moment I met you I only had eyes for you, but you never seemed like you were interested. So, I dropped it. Okay? You never left me a crumb to think you would ever want to be more than just friends.”

“You were my best friend. You still are. No matter how I felt, it could never outweigh the need I have for you to be in my life.” He sighed, rubbing his hands over his face. Trying to figure out what was next for the both of you. Steve always had to initiate and this time was no different.

“Peggy told me tonight she wants to be exclusive.” His confession washing over you like a ton of bricks. Crushing you.

You really couldn’t have any ill feeling towards her, she was just doing what you lacked the courage and the tenacity to do.

“But I didn’t really know what to do.” He took quiet steps towards you, not wanting to spook you. He voice not no longer held the a warmth of teddy bear, but a man on a mission rather took over.

Steve kept quiet until he had you backed up into a corner, no escape route in vision for you.

“’Cause there’s this other beautiful woman, absolutely breathtaking — and I just I really needed to know how she felt. If I had known before, I never would have gone anywhere else.” His hand caressing your soft, plump lips. Pulling on your bottom lip with his thumb, sending you into a frenzy.

“Then, I just wanted to forget about everything until Sam called me. Three beers deep, when he told me of a drawer filled with letters I should take a look at.” You could feel his breath on you, temple pressed against yours.

“I just need to hear you say it. Just once.” Taking it a step forward, intertwining your finger with his own.

“I love you.” It was all he needed as he sealed his own affirmation with a sweet kiss, inking your lips with all of his love.

#for the love of god let these tags work :/#steve rogers #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers x reader fluff #steve rogers x reader angst #steve rogers fluff #steve rogers angst #steve rogers one shot #steve rogers imagine #steve rogers au #college!steve rogers #au #mcu #mcu fanfiction #fanfiction

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hekatepoetryxxwriting · 3 years

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The Fae Prince and The Pomegranate

When in the Folklands, there are three rules a woman must remember.

Rule One: Stray not from the path.

Rule Two: Accept no gift from the people of the woods.

Rule Three: Give not your name, or be lost forever

The Fae Prince waits. He sees time pass by and watches the leaves fall and grow and die again. His hair is like spider silk, woven in braided tresses, fallen to his thin waist. He holds a pipe with nimble fingers, perfectly manicured nails pressed into the wooden stem as he sucks. Breathes. Exhales.

He waits. And then waits no longer.

This is not the land of your forefathers, child. The Folklands are a tale told around campfires when the travelling folk visit, bringing with them exotic gifts and music that burns the Abbess’ ears. She shall shoo them from the schoolyard, returning to her classes, her routines and words of the Lord. But the Lord is not amongst the Folklands. He teeters at its edge, the vast canyon that seeped beyond the treeline was no more than a shadow to His gaze.

Should a Bible touch the Horned God’s ‘holy’ lands, it would burn. There’s an irony to it, yes?

But a child of God wandering through the woods at night, searching for her next meal, she does not know of the old ways. Pious is the lone mother, a widowed soul damned with two children. She swoops in for her son’s slightest cry, and leaves nothing but crumbs for the daughter who runs the house in her absence. A girl should be grateful for what she gets. The Abbess reminds her that it could be worse. She could be married.

Rule One: Stray not from the path

But the rules are not taught amongst the nuns. The rules are for the heretics and blasphemers, those who cower in their grass-thatched huts and practise pagan rituals once the blanket of stars has covered God’s eyes. The fact that they are still alive proves, in their minds, that the Abbess is wrong. God is not omniscient. He is merely a Peeping Tom.

When the girl-child enters the Folkland, there is only moss and branches and bits of stone scattered about the earth. The dirt path has been trodden so many times it is more like a ditch, a moat deprived of water. It lies gasping, parched. She attempts to stumble along the scar in the ground. When her foot catches a tree root, she changes her mind.

Her eyes settle upon a bed of carnations nestled in the base of an oak. The flower of wreaths and crowns wore during Lughnasadh, a day she knows of only from the mouth of a hag she met in the town square. Cautiously, she plucks one from the dirt and brushes her fingers over the folds of its ripe, red petals. They quiver beneath her nails, the morning dew trails down and pools in the hollow of her wrist.

Carnations, the daughter within the dianthus family. Dios, anthos, ‘divine flower’. Poised upon the heads of queens and emperors and now placed carefully into the modest braid of a girl not a day above sixteen. Her body may be developed but the mind still pictures days of making daisy chains.

And from the bushes watches The Fae Prince. With his elder eyes, he bears witness to her heavy petting. The carnation sits in her hair, its bloody petals already beginning to wilt. The Prince bares fangs, licks his lips. To him, the flower is caro, carnis. Flesh.

Like snow, he melts. Long, slender limbs curl, bones cracking as they seize into hooves. His pointed ears elongate into velvet antlers, like gnarled branches uprooted from his head. White hair turns to fur that spreads across his body like plague.

Luck is on his side; the forest grants him a shield of foliage. The girl never looks twice, never sees the man become the stag. And should his luck continue, shall never see the devil within the beast that moves towards her.

Rule Two: Accept no gifts from the people in the woods.

Like a hound at the foot of its master, the girl-child follows the stag further into the Folklands. She notes the odd canter at which he moves, clumsy and slow, as if just a fawn stumbling from the womb. She accompanies him blindly, feet moving by instinct, entranced by the fur of the stag’s hind. Pure cotton white, as if painted by the moon’s hand.

And perhaps along the way she picks a dozen carnations, and she shall hum as she weaves them into a crown. Last night’s rainfall drops from the stems of the flowers, dampens her dress, and makes her itch so. Still, she breaks and bends the flowers to her will.

The Fae Prince has brought her to the Garden of Eden, it seems. She recognises it from hastily drawn pictures given to the children by the Abbess, determined to carve God’s will into their lineage. And some, like the carnations, listen. They break and bend. Should a man wish to conquer a kingdom in the name of divinity, it is the children he must win over.

The stag stoops below a tree, allows the girl to sit upon his back, to reach upwards into the branches above. She plucks a particularly ripe pomegranate, it’s scarlet skin tears beneath her hands as she splits it. It cleaves it into two bloodied segments, and she stares in awe at the ruby jewels encased inside the white flesh of the treasure chest. Below her, the stag preens, sure of his prize that could not follow the rules. Proud of her hunt, she leans down and pushes half of the pomegranate to the stag’s mouth.

For many years after, scholars would argue Eve’s fruit was not the apple.

But, my sweet prince, here is the thing about rules. The Fae know them, and know how to dance around them. A promise not broken, only sidestepped. A secret not told, but found.

The girl-child barely bats an eyelid when the stag again becomes a man, and she finds herself perched upon his lap, hands stained red. His eyes, heavy with long lashes, are hostile, furious. The same stain upon her fingertips covers his bottom lip, dribbles down his chin like a smear of wine on the face of a drunk.

Rule Two works both ways. From this point on, Rule Three is not necessary.

With his defeat, the girl-child smiles and places her crown upon his head. He comes home with her, not a stag nor a fae, but a husband who shall cook and wear an apron whilst his new wife shall wander the forest.

Her house is not that of her mother’s any longer, she becomes her own patriarch.

#writing #academic writing #writing community #writing inspiration #creative writing #writing help #writing advice #writers of tumblr #female writers #short story #gothic literature #gothic essay #angela carter

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samwrights · 4 years

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I’m sorry but ukai with a breeding kink😳yes PLEASE

I swear I saw another ask that asked for Ukai with an impreg kink

*ahem* anyways—WOW this one was a doozy but holy shit did I have fun writing it. 11k words you guys. 11. K. It is a lot so grab some cocoa or coffee and a blanket because this is a read. It even has to be split into two parts because I hit the fucking text limit, BUT this also means there is no actual smut in this portion. You can find that here.

If you guys need some ear candy, I recommend the following:

Day N Nite (Crooker’s Remix) by Kid Cudi

Pursuit of Happiness (Extended version with Steve Aoki) by Kid Cudi

Breaking Me by Topic

C’Mon by Ke$ha

Flannel by The Cardboard Swords (it has to be sad somewhere)

Magic in the Hamptons by Social House

Fun fact: Ke$ha was actually the primary inspiration for this fic and for DJ!Ukai. God bless her.

Warnings: language, nicotine and alcohol consumption, implied drug use, implied emotionally abusive relationship, breeding/impreg kink, dirty talk, rough sex, risky sex, road head, slight dub-con, praise, multiple smut scenes, 3rd person POV reader-insert—because the word ‘you’ just didn’t seem to fit.

Without further ado, please enjoy the filthy depths of my brain followed by a relatively happy ending that I’ve titled, “Between the Lines’” :-)

“You’ve been more tired lately, and you’re showing up right when practice starts. Is everything okay?” Was the question that Takeda had asked Ukai Keishin that haunted him for years to come. Sure, he had wanted to gain more independence from his parents, wanted to start being more adult-like and take over the mortgage and the bills so his parents could finally rest. At the age of twenty-six, it seemed like a good idea at the time. With four years passing, however, Keishin was so damn tired, but it wasn’t like he could just stop working.

He was still tending to crops every morning, tending to the shop, coaching for Karasuno, but in the four years time, he had adopted one more job on the weekends—Ukai Keishin was a local nightclub DJ. He’d discovered the job opportunity one fateful night that he was out with his friends from the neighborhood association. To this day, he was still unsure of why he was approached with the job, especially considering he didn’t know the first thing about being a DJ, but the woman who had offered him the position had taught him everything he needed to know.

It turned out that he had a natural affinity for the position, seeing as he was still at it years later under the alias Spira. Ukai kept telling himself that he would quit the gig eventually because there was no way he could continue working four jobs—it was inhuman and the money didn’t even really matter to him. Okay, that last one is a lie; his DJ gig has been a substantial contributor to his savings funds to the point where he was even able to afford a newer, larger, (and slightly) used SUV in full compared to his tiny, old yellow beater. Even his mortgage bills were starting to look less daunting with the current cash flow.

Who needs sleep anyway? Ukai survived and thrived off of nicotine and caffeine anyway. Besides, sleep was the last thing on his mind whenever he set foot into the club. It was impossible to think of anything other than the writhing bodies of sweaty, young adults that were already drunk or high or were practically fucking each other with their clothes on. Perhaps that was part of the reason Keishin felt the need to quit this job—he was envious. Envious of the fact that he never got to indulge in his youth like these kids did; he started working and helping his family out right away after college. Sure, he went out here and there, but these twenty-something-year-olds were living their best life, while he was thirty and catering to their whims.

To say he was a bit bitter would be an understatement.

Bitterness aside, however, it did him good to see the youth enjoying exactly that—their youth. They got to do as they pleased between exams and becoming functioning members of society and, while he was jealous, Ukai was proud to be able to contribute to their pleasure.

He’d arrived to the club early, as he often did, to try to grab a drink before he was due for stage time. Ukai was thankful the bartenders knew him enough that he didn’t have to verbally order considering the music was too loud to hear him in the first place. A rum and coke manifests itself in a small, plastic cup that the blonde raises in thanks before weaving and bobbing around the various partygoers. For the most part, he’s successful in dodging the flailing bodies as he mutely notes the very upbeat remix of some female pop artist playing.

But only remotely successful as Keishin attempts to salvage his drink from spilling as he raises it over his head as one of the partygoers is pushed into him. “Hey, careful!” He snaps toward the younger, [hair color]ed woman. She only looks half-offended by the scolding, but otherwise unperturbed. If anything, the dominating expression on her face was confusion.

“Coach Ukai?” He’s surprised to hear both his given name and his title, let alone coming from a club patron, as they all knew him as Spira. Recognition slips his mind entirely—he’s never met this girl in any way that he can remember. Certainly, he would never forget crossing paths with this beauty, even if she was dressed in a similarly juvenile fashion to the other ravers. Tight crop top tee cinched together by a knot at the midriff, with army green high-waisted shorts attempting to cover the bare skin, face painted with makeup, glitter, and sweat; even underneath the garb, she brought forth no recollection. “Uh, d-do you remember me?” It’s a challenge to hear over the music, but she presses forward close enough that her lips are right in Keishin’s ear.

“Can’t say that I do,” he yells right back into hers.

“Karasuno class of twenty-twelve, I was Sugawara’s girlfriend.” Oh.

Oh.

Now he remembered, vaguely, but he doesn’t ever remember her looking like this. The last four years had been incredibly kind to her, in more ways than one. Back in her Karasuno days, [name] had always looked pleasant, for lack of better term. But there was always a lifeless, matted, dull glaze to her eyes that screamed she was searching for something more. While it was still somewhat present, there was a substantial joyous air around her. It looked good on her. However, as much as Ukai wanted to stay and admire, he had to go get set up for the evening. Or rather, that was the excuse he used when he said he would catch her after the show. “[name], did you know who that was?” The woman in question gives a nod, confused at the sudden star struck gawks that her friends held.

“Uh, yeah? My ex-boyfriend’s volleyball coach?”

“No dude, that was the DJ, Spira.”

“What?”

Being the closing act meant a lot of different things to Ukai Keishin. On the negative spectrum, it meant he was going to have to tend to crops as soon as he finished cleaning up his set. That also meant he wasn’t going to get to go to bed until nearly eight in the morning after his shift at the farm. Yet, for him, the positives greatly outweighed the negatives. For Keishin, watching the audience lose themselves in euphoria, albeit probably a drug-induced one, just hit different for him. It was a sense of satisfaction that only came from a select few activities, with coaching volleyball being the other major contributor. There was just something about the way the crowd was overwhelmed and screaming the second underground remixes of old Kid Cudi tracks with his own twists overtook the speakers that granted Keishin a sense of enlightenment.

For him, being a DJ allowed an audience to flow and vibe with the journey of his life and all its constant up and down motions while under the guise of anonymity. As Spira, Ukai opened up the complexity and conflicting feelings of his inner mind and brought it to fruition through his mixes. He felt that in his soul, he’d done his art of storytelling justice. The audience felt it. Hell, his mom at home probably felt it. Perhaps it was one of the main reasons this dingy, hole-in-the-wall club kept asking him to come back every weekend.

His mind wanders further as he clutches an electronic cigarette in his hand, mixing beats on the turntable while taking hits of nicotine in between. He wonders if the girl he had ran into just a few minutes prior had been frequenting here as often as he had. Then, thinking back to what little information she supplied earlier, Ukai’s mind drifts off to the former third-year setter from when he first started coaching. Sugawara was a nice boy with a firm, almost parental, hand that walked dangerously along the lines of being a partner and being a control freak. When it came to his relationship, things had to go his way. And while his girlfriend that came to every tournament was much more outspoken yet easy going, she was opinionated and didn’t shy from confrontation.

Now that the coach had given it more thought, it was a wonder that one tolerated the other at any point in time. If anything, Ukai imagines the two of them would typically be at each other’s throats. From the few times he had interacted with her, she was always more free spirited and couldn’t be weighed down by any one else’s opinion, but seeing her now was different—she was in her element in the dingy, dark club with the glitter on her cheekbones refracting light off of her face. There was laughter and true, unabashed joy on her face. She had a light of her own—like she was ray of sunshine in the center of a storm.

Three hours past midnight when the club closed was always Keishin’s sign to leave, regardless of the countless attempts to attend the after party he’d been invited to. He had to go to work, after all. Sure, a part of him had always been a little green with envy at all the DJs that got to hook up with club patrons after, but after being at this gig for a few years, he figured that the right girl for him would eventually come to him if he continued working on himself. After all, he didn’t want to just have a string of one night stands with a bunch of fresh adults that could barely function after the small drop of Malibu rum—he was too old for that.

“Uh, coach?” [name] felt strange calling him that, but she didn’t feel familiar enough with him to address him otherwise. He was halfway in his car, the blonde ready to leave for the weekend to go back to his regular day-to-day work. “You coming to the after party?” [name] asks when Keishin only looks at her in question, cigarette hanging betwixt his dry lips.

“No, I actually have to go to work right now.”

“Oh,” she doesn’t mean to express her disappointment, but it slips anyway, “guess I’ll catch you later then?”

“Uh, yeah.” A tight lipped hybrid of a pained grin and grimace crosses her wet, gloss covered lips. Without another word, Ukai closes his car door, a little more brusquely than he intended to, before backing out and leaving the young woman to her own devices. His mind wanders once again with him humming absentmindedly to the soft acoustic punk playing over the car radio. His eyes are focused on the passing greenery, the cars that are weaving and bobbing off the freeway—hell he even noticed the way the tendrils of the sun are just barely starting to peak over the horizon because it reminded him of her. A thought he banishes immediately because he feels creepy for even thinking that.

Yet no matter how much scenery flitted through his honey eyes, his mind keeps traveling back to one thing, or rather one person, only.

Goddammit.

On Monday’s practice, Ukai Keishin’s mind is flooding and drowning in memories of his first year as the volleyball club’s coach. It was as if his mind was coercing him to attempt to reach out to the girl that plagued his mind for the last forty-eight hours or so. Though, he had no way of contacting her. Instead, with every step along the wooden floors, he can remember the way she would walk Suga to practice, almost physically seeing her standing in the doorway to kiss the third-year setter goodbye. As if he could see her sitting underneath the third window from the left, quietly doing homework and exchanging small talk and airy laughter with Kiyoko and Daichi. As if he could see the same sunny smile she gave in the audience from Saturday night at the club between the lines of the woodwork in the floorboards.

It was a repeating pattern day in and day out that was beginning to make Ukai question his sanity.

“Hey, man,” his assistant coach and fellow Karasuno alumni, Tsukishima Akiteru, places a hand on his shoulder and looks at him in worry. “Are you okay? You’ve been out of it all week.” In what world did a week translate into three days, the older blonde coach didn’t know.

“I’m fine, just tired,” Keishin all but bites back. He didn’t want to admit his conscious had been running rampant with thoughts of a girl he’d briefly met at a club. It felt almost as disturbing and perverted as it sounded in his mind.

“The team’s worried about you. Why don’t you take an early weekend and get some rest? We’ll see you back on Monday, yeah?” Normally, Ukai would have vehemently refused. However, his circumstances were far from normal and he was gracious for an assistant coach he trusted wholeheartedly to do the work that needed to be done. And so, Ukai heeded Akiteru’s advice and went home before practice even began on Thursday afternoon.

It was slightly disorienting for him to go home and nap, but he was incredibly thankful for the gift. Waking up just before he was technically supposed to start his shift at the shop, Keishin jumps into a cold shower to bring him to life before heading downstairs. A bellowing yawn passes his lips through his teeth as he starts his evening. Maybe his team was right—he really did need a break. Thankfully, he knew that the second the doors to the Sakanoshita were locked, he was done for the evening and wouldn’t need to reawaken until three the following morning. Just a few more hours until then, he thought.

With it being a slower evening as well, Ukai was able to kick his feet up on the counter as he always did, pull open the newspaper from earlier in the morning and casually flip through. Briefly, he considers giving up one of his four jobs because this was something he missed doing. But consideration aside, he was far too in love with the cash flow and the thought of paying off his mortgage to entertain the thought for long. Maybe one day, he would finally sell the Sakanoshita store or quit helping on the farm—

“You still work here?” Huh. Her voice sounds different when it isn’t drowning under the speakers of a nightclub.

“I do own this place, you know.” Ukai snarks at the woman who’d been consuming his brain for the last week. She looks different without glitter reflecting off of her unreal cheekbones or the heavy layers of foundation and eyeshadow. Even more than before, Keishin definitely recognized [name] now. “What are you doing here anyway?”

“Shopping,” she snorts as if it were the most obvious thing, “why else would I be at a store?”

“Dunno, maybe you’re just here to see me.” Ukai responds without skipping a beat, turning the page of the paper to play into his guise that he wasn’t the slightest bit surprised at [name]’s presence.

“Uh...actually...” her voice is quiet, prompting the coach to quirk a brow and fold up the paper he was now pretending to read. It wasn’t like he could focus on anything right now outside of the woman standing before him, spearated only by a thin counter. Without talking again, his brown eyes lock with hers, silently goading for her to continue speaking. “I-I just...I don’t know. It was just really weird to see you at the club and then to find out that you’re Spira on top of that. I haven’t seen anyone from Karasuno since I graduated and—“

“Woah, kid, breathe.” Ukai interrupts her before she can continue spewing word vomit at a hundred miles an hour. “So what if I’m Spira? Though, you better not tell anyone that. My stage name is a secret between us, alright?” For a moment she’s quiet, gears turning in her head. The secrecy didn’t make sense to her because, if anything, he should be proud of the fact that he’s rather well known in the underground electronica scene. Or at least, she was in his stead, because [name] would have been proud of Ukai regardless of whatever occupation he held.

She supposed it came with the territory of having an unrequited crush on the coach years ago, that continued well beyond high school and even university, back when she was still dating Sugawara Koushi. It was the reason she had even bothered to come sit in on his practices and partially the reason she would come to his tournaments and matches. Not that she didn’t want to be supportive of her then-boyfriend—it would have been a fight had she not—but seeing the hot older coach was definitely a bonus in her book. “But why?” She offers, not wanting conversation to end despite her not having actually bought anything.

“If the school ever caught wind of me doing that, I could lose my position as the coach. Some shit about Karasuno’s image or whatever.” [name] gives a small nod, fidgeting subconsciously, as an attempt to shake her nerves and anxiety, by sifting through various candy bars that were in front of her before grabbing her favorite. Without a second thought, she peels the wrapper before placing the candy between her lips, the puffy pink skin greatly contrasting the chocolate coating. “Ya gonna pay for that, kid?” Ukai irks, his honey brown eyes steeling over in irritation. The nickname she’s given hits the final nail on the coffin and seals away [name]’s trepidation. Instead, her own sass comes out to join the fun.

“Nah,” she hums playfully, the chocolate-covered wafer cookie crunching between her teeth. “Quit calling me kid, coach. I’m a lady,” the irony isn’t lost on either of them as she speaks with her mouth full.

“Still a kid, kid. And quit calling me coach, I’m not your damn coach.” The familiar, grumpy attitude of his brings [name] back to the Ukai she knew back in high school. In a mix of nostalgia, warmth washes over her as the haughty tone in his voice sent shivers down her spine like it did a few years back.

“Sure thing, coach,” she teases again before tossing the wrapper of the stolen candy bar into the nearest bin. “You’re at the club tomorrow, right?” The question adds a bit of context and confirmation to Ukai—it seems she knew when Spira was performing, meaning she must have been a patron for a decent amount of time. Part of him wonders how she never realized who he was before, another part wonders how he’s never noticed her considering she could make all traffic stop if she stood in the middle of a freeway. At least, that’s what looking at her did to his heart.

“Yeah?”

“Maybe this time, you’ll join us at the after party.” Without another word, [name] pushes herself away from the counter she’d been leaning on while talking to the blonde man. With Akiteru giving him the weekend off, he actually entertained the thought of attending this time. Even if her invitation was rather blasé and indirect, he didn’t see the opportunity of him attending one presenting itself any time soon. He may be old, by his own standard, but there was a unknown allure to the thought of showing up to a wild party with a woman that was so adamant of his attendance.

Or rather, adamant in his mind. Whether she actually wanted his company remained to be seen, but the curiosity was gnawing at him, and was something he would have to unearth sooner rather than later.

Having an entire night, or a day’s worth, of rest was a rather disorienting, yet pleasant feeling for Ukai. After tending to crops and returning home in the early hours of the morning, the blonde coach was able to catch a solid nine hours of sleep before his shift at the Sakanoshita store with another chance to nap before he needed to head to the club. Despite knowing he had the ability to do so before another restless night, his mind felt the need to keep him awake and alert. Even after showering and styling his blonde tresses into their usual mane—mundane acts that usually came to him automatically—he was hyper aware of the slightest unruly flyaways.

Ukai Keishin was nervous.

He didn’t know what to wear or if there was a dress code or if anything he typically wore would be deemed worthy of an after party. A part of him wanted to leave it alone and let him sport his usual white track pants and tight, maroon muscle tank, but that part of him immediately drowns in the ocean of his anxiety. Another string in his brain prompted him to dress up just a little bit to help him look the part—it had nothing to do with impressing a certain club patron, no—he tried to convince himself. A miserable attempt, but still one nonetheless.

Eventually, he settled on crisp, dark-washed jeans that hugged his muscular legs without being suffocating, paired with a vibrant, crimson muscle tee that hugged his biceps all the same. Ukai still felt a little out of place in the attire, as he often had back when he first assumed the alias Spira, but headed out the door of his apartment before his conscious could dispute it.

He was early again, even more so than normal. Desperate for a drink to calm his nerves and replace his blood with liquid courage, Ukai worms his way around to the bar, signaling the attendant for his usual. Rum and coke in hand, the DJ stands off to the side, hiding like a wallflower, while he studied the sweaty, dancing bodies. Did he know why he was looking for her—no. Maybe partially to tell her she owed him for the candy bar, maybe to tell her he was joining in on the after party this time around.

Maybe to just see her.

Keishin banishes the last thought with a shake of his head before skulking off to the attached patio to smoke. Pulling a cigarette from his pack and a lighter from his pocket, the flame torches the end of the filter at the same time the blonde inhales. Forcefully pushing the smoke out past his lips, Ukai takes a hearty sip of his drink until it’s nearly gone. He was going to need something stronger tonight.

“Is it that time already?” The older man’s head snaps to the voice that had been haunting him subconsciously.

Part of him wishes he didn’t look.

As if to play into her question, [name] checks the large, rose gold watch on her right wrist—an incredibly stark contrast to her outfit for the evening. Maybe it was a hunch when Ukai felt that he had been underdressed, as if his intuition knew that she was going to be dressed to the nines in a black skater dress. Even with a modest neckline, the lace cut out detailing on the sides of the dress accentuated her curves impeccably, playing well with the volume of the skirt, while the open back she was sporting dipped dangerously low.

It took everything in Ukai to not throw every milliliter of restraint and inhibition out the window and fuck her right then and there.

Taking a lengthy drag of his cigarette to hold himself back, Keishin inhales deeply, the smoke billowing past his lips emerging densely and grey in color. “I’m a little early—needed an extra drink today.” The man manages to choke out, downing whatever is left in his little plastic cup for added emphasis.

“Need another?” [name] chirps politely; almost too politely as if to deliberately dispute the salacious thoughts flooding the coaches mind.

“I can get—“

“I owe you anyway,” she reminds him, alluding to the candy bar she had eaten without paying for from the previous night. “Pick your poison.”

“Double rum and coke.” He concedes. [name]’s lips twitch upward slightly at the corner before she plucks the empty cup from Ukai’s hand. He doesn’t miss the way the shellac on her nails grazes against his skin, leaving the whispers of contact to run warm. Immediately, the blonde man uses the nearly dead cigarette between his teeth to light a fresh one—heaven or hell knows he needed the nicotine right now.

Given the silence, Keishin takes the opportunity to absorb his surroundings. From the general direction that [name] initially came from, she wasn’t around any of her friends or really anyone that he knew. That was good at least; there wasn’t anybody else that knew of his presence. [name] returns, two clear plastic cups in her hands and surrenders the darker of the two to the man awaiting. “Hold mine for a sec?” Without thinking, Keishin holds his cigarette between his left index and middle fingers, his drink in the same hand, while taking hers. To his surprise, she pulls out her own pack of menthols and a torch lighter, setting the leaves ablaze before taking her obvious vodka cranberry back.

“You took up smoking?” The older of the two asks in surprise, noting the way her lipstick leaves the slightest bit of residue along the brown filter. [name] gives a shrug.

“Surprised you didn’t notice it sooner, coach. I’ve been smoking since second year.” Ukai gives a roll of his eyes at the use of this strange pet name he’s been dubbed by her. But he thinks about it, thinks about how Suga must have felt probably knowing that she did. Thinks how it just added to this strange, sassy yet happy, wild and free exterior she now had. And [name] notices instantly the very same look Ukai had in his face when he was trying to strategize, trying to figure out a way to navigate a conversation with his team about becoming better—she knows what’s coming next. “Yeah, yeah, I know I should quit or whatever. Suga lost that argument a long time ago.”

“Can’t really tell you what to do when I’m just as guilty.” Ukai gives a laugh—one that is embedded with bitterness and envy at the mention of the third-year setter—yet is just as vivacious as he is. A sound entirely different than she’d ever heard leave his lungs before. She likes it.

After finishing his smoke, Keishin gulps down a hefty swig of his drink before patting [name] on the shoulder before announcing his departure. “I’ll see you inside,” the girl, woman, calls out thoughtfully as she gives a small wave with her cigarette filter between her fingers. Ukai doesn’t verbalize the same sentiment. He doesn’t want to slip up and admit he’ll be looking for her.

But it’s painfully obvious that he is when he takes over the booth. Unable to hide the fact that with every chance that he looks into the audience, he’s searching for that black skater dress that hugs her all too perfectly, [hair color] locks swaying as she moves in the crowd. Ukai can’t hide it at all—not behind the turn table or new remixes meant to get the crowd moving.

He can’t hide the urgency he feels to find her outside in the crisp evening air, smoking on the back patio of the club after his set. [name] is talking and laughing with her friends while thin grey smoke billows from her open mouth before her eyes land on him. Some of her friends take notice to the tension and their shared gazes, some of them whispering his alias in excitement. But [name] just smiles knowingly, if not a little cocky, because she can see that urgency, that desperation, that Ukai was trying to hide. “Wait, [name], do you know Spira?” A bystander asked. Clearly, they weren’t present the last time this was brought up.

“Yeah, I may have met him once or twice,” the woman in question snickers as she strides over closer and closer to the aforementioned DJ.

“Cute,” Ukai sneers teasingly at her jab before instinctively reaching for the half-gone cigarette she pulls to her stained lips. At first, she thought he was going to put it out, considering their little conversation from a few hours ago. Instead, the volleyball coach puts the filter to his own lips, noting the damp fabric probably from her freshly applied lipgloss, and takes a drag. It tasted like watermelons and mint.

“Cheeky,” [name] returns, plucking her cancer stick back from the blonde man. While her friends are still behind her murmuring about the familiarity between the two of them, Keishin and [name] are lost in their own little world. “So since your set is over, and considering you’re still here, I’m assuming you’re joining me for the after party? Or do you have to go to work again?”

“I told them I’d be out of town this weekend,” Ukai tries to play it off as nonchalantly as he could, ties to swallow it down his nerves with rum and nicotine. It proves rather difficult considering the coy smile on [name]’s face is wearing and cracking through his resolve rather quickly. But at least, to him, he could confirm his mind was not playing tricks on him and [name] was just as adamant about his attendance as he initially thought. Even more so with her next statement.

“Cool. Your car or mine?” It took him a minute to process her words even—lust thickening and constricting the flow to his brain at the vague question. Ukai was getting far too ahead of himself, but goddammit how could he focus when the fabric of her skirt hit her mid-thigh and framed her like a Venetian goddess—“I don’t mind driving there.” She adds to coax him away from his silence.

“Nah, I got it. We’ll take mine.”

“Lead the way,” [name] chimes sweetly as she wraps an arm around the coach’s forearm. The physical touch is everything he’s been fantasizing about for the last few days—hellfire and brimstone and sunlight and goddammit why did he wear jeans that were only getting tighter and tighter?

Ukai opens the passenger door to his SUV, supporting the woman as she clambered in cautiously so as not to stumble from her heels. Getting settled in, the coach surrenders his unlocked phone to allow her the entirety of his music library. The irony of the DJ surrendering DJ rights to the passenger was not lost on either of them. Much to his surprise, [name] put on soft acoustic punk as he usually did on his way home from the club. The kind of softness one would turn on to accompany the fragile pitter-patter of rain against the windshield. “Cardboard Swords?” Ukai asks in surprise, more than familiar with the band.

“Flannel is a favorite of mine. I’m kind of surprised it’s in your library.” She adds after she begins directing him to this evening’s party location. From the corner of his eyes, he can see the way her full lips are moving along each word with expertise. He sees the way her [eye color] orbs soften slightly and he can tell this song hits home for her.

She’ll never say why—she’ll never tell him this was the song that helped her move on from Sugawara Koushi while restoring her inner peace.

But Keishin is no fool. He can tell that this is physically hurting her—crushing her soul into the leather seat of his car and, instinctually, he wraps a large hand around hers that’s resting in her lap. “I came out tonight to have fun with you, so don’t you go getting sad on me.” He means each word with innocent intent, yet he cannot ignore the almost hidden, salacious drip to each syllable and neither can she. How could she when his touch sent volts of electricity through her skin?

“Right, right,” she says in a conceding tone, switching the audio to something much more upbeat and a little flirty. “Why did you agree to go out tonight?” If Ukai had an answer, then it died on his lips as he let go of [name]’s hand to reach for another cigarette. The process of lighting the tube, inhaling, and exhaling bought him an extra minute to come up with an excuse; her doing the same giving him another thirty seconds.

“I don’t know.” It’s a blatant lie—a lie that [name] believes all too easily—but Ukai can’t bring himself to admit the truth. He can’t admit out loud that she’s the only thing that’s been on his mind all week or that he jumped at the opportunity, created one even, to be able to have a one-on-one moment with her. Keishin can’t admit that he can tell there are intricate webs spun in her mind and that all he wants to do is untangle them one by one.

And he certainly can’t tell her that even the mere sight of her sends his brain into overdrive and all he wants to do is repeatedly fill her over and over with his seed until she is entirely his, inside and out in mind, body, and soul. There was no way in the nine circles of hell that Ukai Keishin was going to admit to his sinful thoughts.

“It’s just up here.” [name] points with gaunt fingers, cigarette between them as her voice is half choked from inhaling her own smoke. Mirroring the man’s actions earlier, she indulged in her own nicotine habit to quell the budding disappointment from Ukai’s lackluster response. They drove up a slight winding hill and as the trees pass by, the itch for her truth and her history was gnawing at him. He wanted to know why this rambunctious party girl invited him all week to these elusive after parties. Why Flannel ate away at her insides like it did his. Why did her and Sugawara breakup?

But he decides against it for the moment.

“Where are we?” Ukai asks. There’s cars all lining the sides of the road of varying worth—he felt even more out of place than normal with his older SUV, even if it was an upgrade for him, considering the large number of luxury vehicles.

“Bevelle’s house.” [name] says simply, pointing to an empty space in the streets as she throws the butt of her cigarette into the road. The casual way she name drops the owner of the club makes him gawk, catching flies in his mouth had there been any at the hour. With a satisfied, cheesy grin, she hops out of her seat and walks in the grass to meet Ukai on the other side as he clambers out of the vehicle as well. In familiarity, she grips into his forearm once again as they walk towards the forest mansion.

Keishin wasn’t sure what to expect when the two of them walked in, but a home full of people screaming his pseudonym and her name was not on that list. Younger hordes had surrounded [name], greeting her warmly and telling her how glad they were to see her again for the evening. Others were approaching Ukai, telling them how rare and a momentous occasion that the infamous artist Spira was amongst their midst.

“Glad to see you could join us, Spira.” His boss and club owner, Bevelle, approaches the mismatched couple. Bevelle was an alias used by the middle aged woman, her real name unknown to those that didn’t know her know her, and was once upon a time her stage name. While she had chosen a quiet location in the Miyagi prefecture, Bevelle was quite known in the underground scene. Granted, Ukai didn’t know any of that when he’d taken the job. If anything, it was all thanks to her that he was able to learn for his own success as well as granting him the opportunity to learn in the first place. “Good to see you too, trouble.” Bevelle affectionately goes to muss at [name]’s hair, to which she only replies with a cheeky grin.

“How do you know Bevelle?” Ukai presses his lips towards the ear of the woman still hanging onto him as she expertly leads the way to the kitchen. The car ride left her feeling slightly uncomfortable, ashamed even though she would never admit to that, and she knew she definitely needed a drink after it. Part of her was heavily rebuking herself for trying to pry into his mind by asking why he came along, even more so when she put on the one song that shattered her heart every time she heard it. It just excited her that he had it in his library, that he even knew who The Cardboard Swords were, and that he enjoyed the same obscure taste in music as much as she did.

“She’s a close family friend!” The chirp that [name] gives isn’t entirely convincing, like she isn’t telling the truth. Regardless, Ukai washes down his doubt with the beer he was handed, figuring she probably had her reasons. And as soon as the plastic is in each of their hands, [name] downs the contents immediately, hoping to drown out the nerves ebbing from her stomach with vodka. She should have been ecstatic—her old high school crush, her unrequited crush, was here with her, drinking side by side but she can’t help but feel the tension between them—sexual or otherwise.

Just as the two of them down their second round, a piercing voice cuts through the thicket of the masses, calling out her name and capturing her attention. “It’s your song! Come on!” A shrug and a smile crosses [name]’s features as she’s all but dragged away to a different part of the mansion. Much to his surprise, she grabbed onto Keishin to drag him along as well.

The two of them are presented with a myriad of sweaty, rolling bodies—much more gone than Ukai had ever seen at the club itself. It was oddly...sensual, if it could be called that, to see the fluid movements between party goers. Sensual, intimate, strange—all of them could be used interchangeably at this moment.

[name] is dancing with another woman, mouthing all of the words to the current pop song while bobbing and jumping around excitedly before her eyes lock on his. She’s in her element now. All sunshine and smiles like Ukai had seen from on occasion from years ago or most recently at the club, but they’re directed at him for once as she pulls him closer onto the dance floor. The taunting beats and repetitive call of “come on” and the way [name] loosely wraps her arms around his neck as she dances brings Ukai to the realization that this was the end of the line.

The end of the line, because Keishin can’t hold himself back anymore.

Not with the way her hips are grinding against is and she’s laughing warmly and heartily at his slight discomfort and her teeth are glittering off the lights in the dark room like stars in the night sky. Not with the way her head is thrown back and her dress drops low enough to flaunt the expanse of bare skin of her neck and collar bones that are just begging him to sink his teeth in. Not with the way her [eye color]ed orbs are locked with his as she sings along with the music, oddly enough alluding to some form of confession of her feelings.

He can’t fucking take it anymore.

The large hands he has on her hips move just under her arms to hoist her up, [name] instinctively wrapping her legs around his waist to keep her balance. Their eyes are locked, honed in on each other with the rest of the party melting into the background. With her deepest, most wild high school fantasy driving her actions, she grins. “Hi,” is all she says before Ukai cranes his neck back to cover her lips with his.

His kiss is everything she imagined it would be after years of pining. The smell and taste of smoke and wood floods her senses as his tongue laps at the watermelon lip gloss on her bottom lip before seeking refuge within her mouth. His hands, now wrapped around her thighs give intermittent squeezes, either to keep them grounded in reality or just because he needs something to clutch at—she’s unsure of which. In response, her manicured fingernails tangle into his messy blonde locks. Their kiss pours out their desperation, laying it all out on the table for the both of them to see clear as day.

The only thing that prompts them to break apart is the ending of the song.

“You wanna get out of here?” Ukai asks as he tenderly puts [name] back on the ground. As if he weren’t just making out with her moments ago, the motion is delicate and gingerly and almost loving.

“Not yet,” there’s a knowing, smug lilt in her voice as she turns on her heel and throw herself back into the throng of party people. Or rather, attempts. While she’s attempting to flee, Keishin snatches her wrist, pulling her closer until their chests are flush against each other.

“Nuh uh,” the blonde man tuts, “you’ve been asking me to join you at a party all week, now here I am. The hell makes you think you’re leaving my side tonight?” [name]’s grin only grows wider.

“I’ve waited for years for this opportunity, coach, so if you think I’m not gonna have fun with it, you’re dead wrong.” The word ‘years’ constricts the man’s heart—forces his pupils to blow into dilation with her modest, yet blunt confession.

“Years?”

“Years,” she repeats, “ever since that first practice you stumbled into the Karasuno gym as the temporary coach. Why do you think I came to every single exhibition match and tournament? Or came to study and do homework while you guys had practice?” This girl was grinding at every steel line of self-control that was left in Ukai’s body because every word spilling past her lips added an additional ten volts to the sexual tension between them.

“We’re leaving.” He bites out despite the delicate tone. Wrapping his hand around hers once again, Keishin tugs her along time dodge the party goers that threw the two of them curious glances, wondering why they were quick to leave shortly after their arrival. Just to tease him further, [name] almost wants to offer a rebuttal and tell him that they should stay longer and enjoy the show. However, she knows she’s done enough waiting and if he was taking her home, she wasn’t going to argue.

While urgency and desperation was their game, Keishin didn’t cut corners when it came to presenting himself as a gentleman as he helped [name] back into the car. Hormones be damned—he was still going to help a lady into the passengers seat. “You never did tell me why you finally agreed to come out tonight.” She says quietly, as if the two of them hadn’t been making out and dry humping a few minutes prior. “And it’s clearly not because you knew I had a crush on you all throughout third year—“

“Don’t act like you’re the only one with feelings in this.” Ukai grits out, speeding much faster back home than he did on the way to Bevelle’s house. Paying that no mind, [name]’s ears perk up at his own wayward confession. When she asked for clarity, a rumbling groan shakes his chest as he patted down his pockets in search for his nicotine sticks. “I didn’t recognize you the first night at the club because you look different now. Happiness looks good on you.”

“Happiness?” She echos confusedly, turning to face Ukai fully after lighting her own cigarette.

“You used to always look content back then—just barely content and nothing more. And I can’t stop thinking back to those days because you’re this ball of sunshine, kid, and I can’t stop wondering what the hell Suga did to you to dim your shine that badly. I haven’t stopped thinking about you all week.”

[name] is quiet for a moment at his own rendition, his own version, of a confession and she’s stunned. And she can’t tell if she wants to cry or kiss him because this is not that way she ever fantasized this conversation going. It was going better than she dreamed. Better, because the words that Ukai is saying adds an entirely new layer to his amped up personality—he wasn’t just the sexy volleyball coach that she used to pine over. He was a person with deep rooted feelings for justice in the sense of wanting to understand how someone could inflict damage to the innocent and he wanted to rectify said injustices. He wanted to know how someone like Suga could try to dampen her sunlight instead of allowing her to thrive and bloom.

She wants to kiss him, she decides, but since he’s driving, she settles for placing a chaste one on the corner of his mouth. “Serves you right,” she jokes when she pulls away, “it’s been a long four years for me. It’s your turn to suffer.”

“Trust me, this car ride is torture enough.”

[ next ]

#haikyu!!#haikyuu!! imagine #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu imagine #haikyuu oneshot #ukai keishin #haikyuu ukai #hq ukai #ukai x reader #ukai scenario #keishin ukai x reader #dj!au #haikyuu sugawara #sugawara imagine #sugawara koushi #sugawara x reader #nsfhq

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ezrastokes · 4 years

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[ CODY CHRISTIAN, HE/HIM, CISMALE ] — [ EZRA STOKES ] is a child of [ HEPHAESTUS ] with the power of [ TECHNOKINESIS ] . they were born in [ 1995 ] and have been in nemean lion since [ 2010 ] . with the change, they [ HAVE GRADUATED FROM ] the [ TECHNOLOGY ] role which makes sense since they’re usually [ FIRING POTTERY IN THE KILN AND BREWING A THIRD CUP OF COFFEE ] . if you’d like to meet them try the [ MOON ] building . — kati / she & her / est / 18+

links: stats / pinterest .

background

most of ezra’s early years were spent not fitting in and for most of that time, he didn’t know why. he didn’t understand why his father seemed to hate him so much, why his younger brother, caleb, seemed to get all of the attention. ezra chalked it up to just not being quite good enough, maybe because he wasn’t into sports the way caleb was, coming home with paint on his shirt instead of grass stains.

for a while, ezra tried to fit in, went out for baseball to try and garner his father’s approval, but it was never really him. over time, he began to isolate himself instead, because it was easier to be on his own than face rejection and disapproval.

his mom was loving, but only behind closed doors. it always seemed like she was scared to show her affection for ezra in front of his father, like she felt GUILTY about loving him, about caring about him. she’d sneak into his room at night and read him stories or they’d spend all day together when his father was out of town. “ why does dad hate me so much ? ” he’d ask, and his mother would smile sadly and say, “ i’ll explain more when you’re older. ”

ezra started developing his powers when he was about twelve years old. his mother had hoped it would never happen. it started small, realizing he could do things like make the toaster pop up without touching it or turn on the television with what seemed to be sheer willpower. his parents started noticing this too. he overheard them talking about it one night, fighting. ezra didn’t know what it meant, but over time, he’d listen at the top of the stairwell as the arguments got more and more heated, resulting in broken glass. caleb would sit with him sometimes. “ what are they always fighting about lately ? ” ezra would ask. “ you, ” the dreaded answer, but he’d already known. he just needed to hear someone say it. “ it’s because you’re a freak. ”

anxious during a test at school, ezra set the printer going so hard that it started smoking and set the fire alarm off. to most people, it was nice to get out of the test, but ezra went home demanding answers. “ just tell me what i am, please ! ” rising frustration, appliances in the house whirring to life. ezra was getting more powerful, it was not just a PHASE that he could outgrow. his parents had to tell him the truth.

his mother sit down and told him about an AFFAIR she had once, with the god hephaestus. he had been able to forgive her for it, but his father had never been able to get over the living manifestation of her disloyalty, the obvious misfit in the family that stuck out and didn’t belong. every day, ezra seemed less and less like he could be his father’s son. everything seemed to click into place for ezra, but it didn’t make him feel any better to be the product of circumstances he couldn’t control ; things would have been easier if he’d been born normal like caleb.

his mother expressed concern for the way his powers were growing and that modern society might not be the place for him. she’d been told if such powers ever developed, that there was a place that he could go. so, at age fifteen he packed this things and began training at nemean lion.

ezra naturally assimilated into the technology track with his powers, it seemed to make the most sense for him. in terms of helping heroes, he is most comfortable beneath the hood of a car, developing advanced transportation technology and essentially providing heroes with the best possible support. he also built his own motorcycle and car from scratch, they’re named thelma and louise respectively, his pride and joys. ezra is a quiet person but get him talking about his hobbies / geeking out and you’ve hit the sweet spot.

recently graduated and working, though he feels like he’s in no position to mentor the newbies…he’ll try. he would’ve been happy to be a student forever, but due to nl’s new status, he felt the need to rush his graduation and work a little harder so that they’d have the tech help they need for the heroes on the field fighting monsters and such.

personality

PERSISTENT. essentially, when ezra sets his mind on something, he will accomplish it. in some ways, he can be pretty one-track minded when it comes to things, like he’ll start a task in the garage or at the kiln and he won’t speak to anyone for days until it’s done. balance ? he doesn’t know her. but achieving his goals ? yes, king. sometimes i think ezra believes that people are to be measured on accomplishments and his value only exists in terms of what he can do for others. however, you can definitely count on him to get a job done.

PRACTICAL. ezra is a pretty realistic person, not the type to get caught up in a daydream or set an unrealistic expectation for himself. granted, he knows he can accomplish a lot, but he would never expect more of himself than what is tangible. he’s definitely not a naive person and is more inclined to believe actions over words every time.

INDEPENDENT. ezra is the sort of person who has always felt like he’s had to fend for himself and is pretty mature. he’s good at taking care of himself and has never felt like he NEEDS other – not that anyone’s really need him. he’s very self-sufficient as a person basically and doesn’t rely on others to get things done. you’ll literally never feel like ezra’s a mooch, but he would let others mooch off him tbh.

PESSMISTIC. as a result of that practicality, he can come off as rather negative in conversation or in ideals. essentially, ezra can be a real downer to be around sometimes because he will always anticipate the worst case scenario ! he’ll tell you he’s just being prepared though.

SENSITIVE. although he comes off as tough or even unapproachable sometimes, this is actually because he’s EASILY hurt. he puts on a front like a badass but seriously he is a sensitive baby and if you say something that rubs him the wrong way he will legit never forget it. can literally hold a grudge for 8092390482 years like if you cross him slightly he will bring it up until you die.

headcanons

if he’s not working with vehicles, he’s making pottery. he has a wheel in his room and is really passionate about art and ceramics. so, when he’s not working, he’s probably firing something.

yes, he has an etsy store <3

has a little black cat named soot that is genuinely his best friend

has a natural affinity toward all things fire and smoke, developing the nasty habit of smoking cigarettes – american spirits, too, because he has no class. however, since he started dating his current girlfriend, he’s pretty much quit smoking to make her happy – and like, to be more kissable.

genuinely, his girlfriend cecilia baum ( y’all know her ? ) has been a super positive influence in his life because he used to drink, smoke, and isolate himself a lot more before getting to know her but honestly the act of developing a crush and trying to impress her all the time got him into better habits and her caring about him has made him care a bit about himself more too.

granted, it’s not JUST cece. making better friends and meeting people that care about him has been a positive influence on him overall

don’t ask me too much about cece, strud and i are mid-plotting but they are dating.

you’d probably think like mechanic, artist, he must be super messy? however, ezra is really meticulous and organized, i would say he’s always been really mature and independent. he has his shit together, but he’s also fueled by a ridiculous amount of coffee in order to do so.

though he does often smell like gasoline from working in the garage so much, though he personally loves that.

really likes thrifting? like browsing thrift stores for hours and finding weird shit or interesting art pieces. he’ll treat thrift stores like museums, could spend hours walking around, but he’ll also spend hours walking around museums.

wanted connections

best friends, bros, etc !! i’m looking for the people he really vibes with in a number of ways, his squad, his fam, the wholesome shit. the scott to his stiles, the schmidt to his nick, all of these things.

but i would especially love to have like his DAY ONE, i will simply go crazy go stupid for a best friend connection and i feel like that person who supported him from the start and made him feel less alone on his first days at NL prob means the fucking world to him.

like, someone he’s protective of? maybe a little sister type connection, essentially someone that’s probably softer and more naive and he feels like he has to look out for them and keep them safe and such.

someone to test out his vehicles and inventions. ezra is always tinkering away in the garage and he comes up with cool stuff for the heroes to use out when they’re saving the world, it would be nice if he had someone who was always down to literally come through in the middle of the night and be the elastigirl to his edna mode and all.

someone that he really clashes with. give me enemies for god’s sake, or anything, i feel like especially when he first arrived at NL he was a bit rough around the edges, hard to get to know. ezra definitely comes off as grumpy and standoffish around people he’s not super comfortable with and he’s pretty introverted, so they might have gotten a bad impression of him.

or honestly if you play a char that’s kind of ? stuck up ? full of themselves ? that would really rub him the wrong way. tho he’s probably just jealous bc he lacks that confidence like damn.

an almost? like a case of bad timing where they were hitting it off or maybe there could have been something between them but he started dating cece instead. maybe your character read into it more than it was and felt really hurt by it. OR he told them he didn’t want a relationship/do relationships and then started dating cece right quick like that’s gotta hurt.

someone who is good w money. help him manage the finances of his etsy store and how to run a business because he doesn’t even know how to properly price his own goods, probably undersells himself. gimme the business mind to his art mind.

drinking buddies! sitting around w a good glass of scotch talking about life after a hard day. ezra doesn’t drink so much but honestly their work is hard and ppl die so like, a lil something to take the edge off.

roommates? is that a thing here? he is in moon building.

naturally also down to vibe and plot anything, exes, family members, enemies, besties, all the things, this is just off the top of my head !!!

#nlintro #* ☕⠀ / ⠀ 𝙁𝙄𝙇𝙀𝘿 𝙐𝙉𝘿𝙀𝙍 ⠀ ﹕ ⠀ ❪ ⠀ intro. ⠀ ❫#one down .. !

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idlecreature · 4 years

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*sidles up to you* hey man, want a Magnus Archives rarepair? I’ve got one right here you can have for free. It’s Mordechai Lukas/Hezekiah Wakely. Here’s my sales pitch:

Mordechai Lukas is only forty years old, but he’s in very poor health. Granted, he’s been on death’s door for several decades, having never fully recovered from the excision of a thyroid tumour - a surgery that scarred his throat significantly, making it hurt to speak. But this isn’t his usual moaning about feeling cold and depressed all the time. This is the doctor listening to the slow gurgle of his heart and telling him “you shouldn’t be alive. your days are numbered”.

(cut for length)

And Mordechai’s honestly fine with dying. A little.... too enthusiastic, even. On his trip to Italy he forwent normal accommodation to break into and sleep in mausoleums, and he might have returned from the continent a little... haunted. He’s designed and redesigned the family mausoleum a dozen times, and he’s had his own funeral planned for years much to the chagrin of his friends. “What flowers should adorn my funerary wreath?” he writes to Jonah Magnus. “Can we please change the subject?” Jonah replies. “And I swear to the one above if you send me a memento mori I am throwing it in the fireplace.”

Mordechai’s fulfilled his life’s requirements -- he’s married into the wealthy mercantile class, fathered children, and spends most of his time either in a graveyard or wandering like a ghost through Moorland house. His wife, Charlotte, really only wanted a man’s name on her letterheads and spends most of her time on a ship somewhere between London and India. She’s only interested in her possessions, her wealth, in ensuring the books are balancing. Her family made their money in opium prospecting and she’s pressuring Mordechai to open the lands surrounding Moorland for coal mining after a few test bores unearthed rich black seams. Mordechai’s essentially like, “over my dead body,” and Charlotte’s like, “so any day now! :))))” and Mordechai’s sole reason for stubbornly clinging to life is to protect his family’s ancestral lands.

Mordechai has to occasionally rub shoulders with Charlotte’s friends in the East India Shipping Company. Among them are the Beale brothers, Daniel and Thomas. They have a younger brother, rich but temperamentally unsuited for their family’s line of work. His name is Nathaniel Beale, and, oh boy, he is a treat. He’s awfully similar to Barnabas Bennett, shy and closeted and yearning. Nathaniel tells Mordechai all about his good friend Hezekiah, who he’s so, so worried about, who makes poor Nathaniel ache with hunger and longing and shame all the same. Finally, some delicious fucking food thinks Mordechai Lukas.

But if this man really is like Barnabas, Mordechai wants to enjoy his demise. So he obtains Hezekiah’s address with a mind to murdering Hezekiah and relishing Nathaniel’s grief and loneliness. It might be Mordechai’s last communion with his god.

And that’s how Mordechai ends up in a quiet countryside graveyard, staring at the man in a dead sleep at the bottom of an open grave.

And hot damn Hezekiah Wakely is a sleeping beauty. Muscular, square, with hands big enough to circle both of Mordechai’s wrists if he were to pin Mordechai down. (And Mordechai would very much like someone to pin him down.) He almost feels sympathy for poor, repressed Nathaniel but nonetheless summons the fog of The Lonely and it swallows Hezekiah whole.

But the crawling fog parts around the sleeping man. There is a certain solidness about him, the weight of someone touched by another power. Mordechai sighs in annoyance but keeps watching Hezekiah. Slipping away once the man blinks awake, stretches his long, tanned limbs.

Mordechai keeps close company with the Beales after that. Nathaniel passes away in January of 1839. Mordechai finds his grave in yet another lonely graveyard and is absolutely delighted that many of Nathaniel’s sparse acquaintances have forgotten him already.

Hezekiah is curled up on the freshly turned earth. “I should hang for it,” Hezekiah says.

“How about a new job?” Mordechai says.

“I’m a murderer,” Hezekiah says.

“Hold my beer,” Mordechai says.

Mordechai convinces Hezekiah to work as Moorland house’s groundskeeper. By the time the pair of them make it back to Kent, Hezekiah knows about The Buried, The Lonely, the whole wretched Lot.

“You have a lovely mausoleum, sir,” Hezekiah says.

“Shame no-one’s christened it yet,” Mordechai replies. (He plans to be the first.)

Time passes.

And Thomas Beale passes away in 1841.

The Magnus Institute opens its London branch in 1841.

Daniel Beale passes away in 1842.

By 1843, the world has forgotten Nathaniel even existed. Except, of course, for Mordechai, who keeps Nathaniel and Hezekiah’s correspondence.

Mordechai’s now spending 90% of his time watching Hezekiah. When one of Mordechai’s many faceless relatives dies, he sits on the steps of the family chapel as Hezekiah digs. He lets Hezekiah sleep in the grave before the burial. He likes how peaceful the man looks, even when the grave dirt falls in his eyes. He even thinks about burying Hezekiah himself, how that would be another kind of embrace.

Hezekiah more often than not sleeps outside, on the moor, and when the weather drives him inside he sleeps fitfully in his room in the cellar.

(Hezekiah sings when it rains, bitten-off, wordless, self-soothing melodies that sound like oncoming earthquakes through the thick walls of Moorland House.)

(Mordechai listens to him sing and tries to harmonize, and, although the knot of scar tissue in his throat makes his voice sound like grinding metal, isn’t that something?)

The next time Mordechai catches Hezekiah dourly shuffling to the basement for a restless night he snags the larger man’s wrist.

“You might sleep better in my bed,” Mordechai says.

“???” Hezekiah says.

“Come to bed with me,” Mordechai repeats.

“!!!!!” Hezekiah says.

And, well, Hezekiah likes the pressure of Mordechai lying on top of him. Hezekiah is warm, and soft, like peat, and if Hezekiah’s hands snake up to circle Mordechai while he sleeps, then what about it? In Mordechai’s world, they can’t be together in any way that matters. It’s just another thing that isolates him from polite society.

"The groundskeeper? The man who smells like a bog?” Charlotte says, but she’s relieved it’s not a mistress who might want to live more ambitiously, that they might have to keep a London townhouse for because Charlotte’s the one who’d be saddled with the fiscal responsibility. She’s already writing monthly cheques to buy the discretion of a certain J. Magnus.

And Charlotte has an idea. “Dear husband :)” she says. “If you don’t let me open a colliery I might expose your little affair and you’ll get thrown in jail and I don’t think you’d last very long, dear, with your poor heart :) and when you die I’ll do it anyway :) so how about it?”

Charlotte never makes empty threats. But at the same time, Mordechai is connected to the lands around Moorland house in a very real way.

He doesn’t really have a choice.

Charlotte opens a mine on Lukas land.

They have their first grandchild, a boy, and Mordechai names him Nathaniel. Hezekiah just smiles at the baby, warmly. (His smiles are so warm.) (Mordechai is spending more and more time at his bedroom window, watching his groundskeeper. Surrounded by bottles of medicine that never make him feel any better.)

“Are you going to die?” Hezekiah says.

“It’s likely,” Mordechai says. For no reason he can name, the prospect of his funeral no longer delights him.

Hezekiah is silent. “I hope the Lord forgives me,” he says, eventually, and a tremor runs through the entire house, and Mordechai hears, far-off in the distance, the desperate peal of a ringing bell.

An accident in the colliery, they call it. A mineshaft cave-in, trapping 26 men and boys 150 feet under the earth, running out of breathable air, scraping at the cold, unforgiving rock until their fingers and lungs bleed. Crushed and choking and feared enough to paint the walls with it. There’s a thin plume of black smoke. (Mordechai can hear them crying and begging.)

The mine closes. There’s a lengthy investigation. It will cost a considerable amount of money to sink another pit. Echoing, cloying silence wraps around the abandoned worksite. Mordechai can leave his bedroom for the first time in months.

He sits on the chapel steps and watches the muscles of Hezekiah’s back work under his sweat-slick blouse. “Do you think...” Mordechai starts.

There’s something in Mordechai’s voice that makes Hezekiah straighten up.

“Do you think, when I die, you might cut a hole in the side of my coffin?” Mordechai says. “So, when you die, if there’s a hole in your coffin, our coffins could. Lie together. And. We might be able to hold hands under the earth.”

It’s the most he’s said at once in decades, and his throat is raw for it.

“I could do that,” Hezekiah says. “When are you going to die?”

Mordechai sighs. “You’ve bought me a little time. Soon.”

“I’ll make you a Coffin,” Hezekiah says, his voice oddly constricted, as if he’s speaking through silt. He drops his shovel and walks off, towards Moorland house.

Later, from his windowsill, Mordechai watches Hezekiah cut down a whitebeam, feels the heft of it in his large hands. He’s too far away to gauge his expression accurately, but he seems to appraise the wood and finds it passable. He hauls it inside.

The mere act of watching has left Mordechai feeling bone-tired, and he sleeps.

And sleeps.

(In between the sleeping, Mordechai finds himself cradled in long arms, sunburned by the late summer sun. The press of a spoon to his lips as he’s fed a soup that tastes like dirt and tannins.)

And sleeps.

(When he chokes a little on fluid-filled lungs, he feels warm hands rubbing his back and the choking eases.)

Moorland house is awfully quiet.

A hand scraping softly on his collarbone shifts Mordechai blearily into consciousness. “It’s done,” Hezekiah says. “Would you like to see it?”

Mordechai nods. His limbs are oddly discombobulated, his heart feels heavy and dragging, and he looks up at Hezekiah. The man scoops him up like he weighs nothing and carries him, bridal-style, down the cold, empty hallway.

The gate to the mausoleum opens on well-oiled hinges. It’s no longer empty; a single coffin now sits in the marbled room. It’s simple - rough, even - the whitebeam a pale, unvarnished yellow. But there’s undeniably a presence to it, an undercurrent that draws you towards it. Hezekiah approaches close enough that Mordechai can run his hand down its flank.

“I’m not an artist,” Hezekiah says. “It’s even a bit simple-looking, in this grand place.”

“It’s perfect,” Mordechai says. “Would it be too morbid for me to give it a christening? Try it on for size?”

“Pot and kettle,” Hezekiah says.

“True,” Mordechai says.

“Mordechai...” Hezekiah shuffles on his feet. “I would like to embrace you. Under the earth. It has to be deep enough that nothing can live there, where it is quiet and cold and the dirt clings like damp to your skin and dark enough that our touch can hide in secret, that’s the place we can be together. I think if I stayed here when you were buried the pressure of the world would be so much more than the pressure of the dirt and I don’t think I could bear it. I would like to hold you, under there, and you would have space from the choke and I would not be alone. I think I would like to do that forever, or, at least, until our bodies are less human than they are water and earth.”

“I would like that too,” Mordechai says. “It’s like a marriage.”

“It’s more than a marriage,” Hezekiah replies.

“Yes,” Mordechai says, and lets his head sink down against Hezekiah’s chest, measures Hezekiah’s strong heartbeat against his own, thready and uneven. It’s so much more than he deserves.

Hezekiah opens the coffin. It makes a comically sharp scraping noise like it’s the door to a vampire’s crypt in an opera, like thousands of paper bats will fly out of it and fill the room.

It is silent, and cold, instead.

Mordechai never gets his funeral.

Most of Mordechai’s papers get passed along to the Magnus Institute.

And two hundred years later, Jonathan Sims reads some letters.

#the magnus archives #mordechai lukas #hezekiah wakely #jonah magnus #m....monsters in love #this was supposed to be a bullet point list and it turned into improv fanfic halfway through #how the Coffin dovetails the Lonely and the Buried.... very interesting #tw terminal illness #tw death #ask to tag #tma blogging

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hey-hamlet · 4 years

Text

BNHA AU Ideas: True Might

Also on AO3!

TL;DR: Powers don't make the hero - passion does. Luckily for Izuku and Toshinori, this is something the quirkless have in droves.

AKA: All Might is a quirkless vigilante, One for All isn't a quirk that exists and 1A gets a whole 3-week buffer before villain's start kicking their face in as opposed to the 3 days of canon.

Basically: Quirkless!Vigilante!All Might and Quirkless!Successor!(gen ed) UA Student!Midoriya. It’s a riot.

Yagi is stupid strong, his only form in this AU is basically Muscle Form from canon, but he’s a little less ridiculously cut. Not quite chubby, but huggable. This is mostly because he A, isn’t a celebrity that needs to have a marketable image and B, he really likes carbs.

He’s not exactly a vigilante by choice, in his day and age quirkless kids weren’t permitted to apply to UA, either gen ed or heroics. When Nezu got the job, that all changed, but it was a solid decade too late for Yagi.

He’s admittedly a little bitter about it, but he refuses to do anything but his best. He might be a little snippier with Pros than he really needs to be but oh well.

Katsuki and Izuku are utterly enamoured with this crazy vigilante that just doesn’t lose, refuses to back down from a fight even when he’s outmatched, and somehow coming out victorious anyway, rescuing everyone. They have a tense relationship, but often find time to get together and just ramble about how cool All Might is, share theories and dissect his fights. It’s not uncommon for Katsuki to have been hurling abuse at Izuku during class, only to show up at his house after school with a backpack full of snacks and a notebook full of questions.

Izuku knows most of what Katsuki does is to keep his status in the school. If he showed pity to a dumb quirkless runt he’d be painted with the same brush. This doesn’t make what Katsuki has done right! Only Izuku doesn’t blame him because he’s way too forgiving.

Izuku is the smartest person Katsuki knows and vice versa – they are each other’s measuring stick. Katsuki shows Izuku bravery, Izuku shows Katsuki determination.

Episode 1 goes as it does but you see a real flash of regret when Katsuki tells Izuku to jump off a roof because they are kinda-sorta friends. Izuku looks so betrayed. We meet the slime villain like before, All Might saves Izuku and 100% doesn’t expect the kid to fanboy about him and ask for two autographs – one made out to a “Kacchan”.

“Can someone quirkless be a hero?” “The whole world will be against you. Most places won't even give you a shot – no matter how good you are. You’re better off picking something else.”

Izuku is crushed but he does understand. All Might leaves and Izuku trails off kinda hopelessly. He follows the sounds of explosions without meaning to.

It’s Katsuki! He’s dying! Like usual at this point lmao. Izuku rushes in much like canon, All Might shows up, pulls Katsuki free and slams a dumpster on the slime villains head before making a speedy getaway. The police rip into Izuku but Katsuki actually defends him. “You were doing fuck all while I fucking died – don’t knock the only asshole who tried.” Izuku quietly slips him the autograph before running off the scene. Katsuki cries because Izuku got that for him even after he was such a fucking bastard that day? He can’t bring himself to be a dick to Izuku again, even only for show.

All Might finds Izuku and he's like “Sorry I was an ass I was being a dick because I had low self-esteem – I’m quirkless. If you’ll have me I’ll make you into the best hero the world had ever seen

Izuku, obviously, says yes please!

Also, hypermobile Izuku with joint braces as support gear because just let me project please my arms are killing me ( I wrote this a while ago and yes. My arms are still killing me - yes even now). He gets them after All Might sees him miss a dodge because his ankles rolled beneath him. They support his joints beyond the normal range of strength, letting him do some crazy pivots and handsprings, making it easy to support all his weight on a single-arm with very little strain. They can also lock in place, lessening muscle fatigue if he needs to hold onto something for ages and preventing injury if he’s pushing against something. Produced by David and Melissa Shield and imported through Nighteye Heroics.

Is support gear illegal for civilians to own? Yes! But medical equipment isn’t so if you can just convince people its medical not support you can get away with a lot.

Yagi has no weapons himself, other than the random shit he picks up and swings at people, and has little support gear other than a communicator, panic button, and a whole lot of zip-ties.

Izuku should probably have weapons but I’m struggling to think of anything other than war fans because how cool would that look? Because Shonen they would also have the ability to create powerful downdrafts that would give a boost to a jump or dodge.

Probably doesn’t get them until later and needs to train with them.

In this AU, One for All isn’t a quirk. Rather, it’s a role, passed from quirkless person to quirkless person, the only people who can’t be hard countered by All for One. They tend to be vigilantes, crime lords or hero managers, doing their part to foil as much of All for One’s plans as they can, through whatever means necessary.

It’s a role with a pretty high fatality rate.

No one knows All Might is quirkless other than those close to him, they instead think he has a strength quirk. He’s the most prolific vigilante in Japan and is almost as much of a household name as canon All Might. More divisive though, with most people decrying his vigilante status when he could ‘easily make a respectable hero’. He’s also pretty brutal with his takedowns of some villains, leading a lot of people to call him an unregulated brute. Still more call him a villain which, legally he would be - were he using a quirk.

Nighteye is his contact in the heroics industry, gives him loads of inside info that’s typically not something he should be passing on. He’s still close with David Shield. Nighteye imports any costume parts he needs from David and leaves them at various pickup points for Yagi.

He went to college with David in America after Nana died; America having a quirk blind admission process helped - but he’d have gotten shit talked a lot if people didn’t just assume he had a strength quirk. Dude was and is crazy big.

David was one of the only people that knew he was quirkless

OH FOR FUN; Nighteye was also going to this American college and that’s where he met All Might. The three of them became the world’s strangest group of friends and may have lowkey done some slightly illegal vigilante work around the campus and surrounding town. They had a reputation for getting no sleep ever and being the most mismatched set of people

Secretly Smart Jock, Business Man with a Touch of E-boy, Science Hipster. They all tumbled into class together with varying levels of alive-ness. Nighteye and David were very much not morning people.

UA! It’s a ride. Izuku fails the practical but he’s not shocked – he was prepared for this.

He actually got like 30 hero points? But they refused to admit him on hero points alone due to his ‘deficiencies’. They don’t exactly tell Izuku this but Aizawa was there and he was furious.

Gets into 1C with Shinsou, Shinsou fuckin hates him on sight for reasons best known to him (It’s bc he was so god damned cheerful he just – assumed Izuku had a quirk. I love Shinsou but he’s more than a little judgemental). Izuku is like smiling through the pain because he just wanted to make a friend his age – Katsuki barely counts.

He sits with him at lunch and makes friends-ish with the hero kids who dragged Katsuki along, meets Ochaco again. She’s upset he didn’t get in – especially after he tells her he apparently got 30 points. The whole table gets mad on his behalf and hes embarrassed and happy.

Like day 2 he’s leaving gym and someone is like “Oh LMAO it’s Deku – he was in the year below me at Aldera. Only fuckin quirkless kid in the whole school; can’t believe he got into UA.” He turns to Izuku. “Who’s dick did you suck to get in you - ?” And Shinsou just decks him. He grabs Izuku – who is super confused fyi – and s p r i n t s. They have to stop after a while because hes having a panic attack and Shinsou doesn’t know what the fuck to do and he’s mad and upset and the sunshine boy is sobbing –

Aizawa shows up, having seen the (end of the) altercation and is ready to expel some gen ed kids he can’t legally expel – until he sees the two kids from the entrance exam he was interested in – including the quirkless kid who should have gotten in. Well he’s much more willing to hear them out.

100% requests expulsion on those 2 2E kids because that’s Discrimination and they should know better as second years. Nezu grants it because those 2 were di ck s

No USJ because no All Might – stuff like that will come,,, later : )

Sports Fest! Izuku and Shinsou kick ass, Aizawa is Watching. All Might may have gotten in as a crowd member with Nighteye and a visiting David and Melissa and they are cheering on their sun son. Also, Nighteye is going to go cheer on Mirio so he just got a pass to attend all 3 days of the sports festival. He’s just buying snacks on the second day because he’s never talked to one of the second years in his life.

Shinsou and Izuku make it to the tournament. Izuku has been training pretty seriously with All Might for a while now and hes a very good fighty boy. Makes it to the 3rd round of the tournament where he loses to Iida. Shinsou makes it second where he loses to Katsuki. Izuku is like “Iida might you be Ingenium’s brother or something?” “Yes, I am!” “OH MY GOD I LOVE INGENIUM ISN’T HE THE COOLEST” “YES MY BROTHER IS AMAZING” Shinsou is just watching while faintly amused.

#bnha au #true might au #bnha #All Might #yagi toshinori #shinsou hitoshi #midoriya izuku #aizawa shouta

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cultofbeatles · 5 years

Text

beginners guide to the members of led zeppelin (kind of)

a disclaimer before anyone starts reading: we all know led zeppelin is shady as hell and we hardly ever get anything confirmed or denied around here. so some stuff is up for speculation. everything in this post are things i've read in books, heard in interviews, or got from some other source. when it comes to “facts about led zeppelin” sometimes you gotta take it with a grain of salt. but honestly it’s led zeppelin we’re talking about, anything is possible. also this is all in good fun and giggles. with that being said, let’s get started with introductions to the members themselves.

jimmy page

james patrick page

born on January 9, 1944

he’s a capricorn sun, cancer moon, and scorpio rising so you just know he’s a crazy motherfucker

was an amazing session guitarist and basically everyone wanted him

went to art school bc he’s just talented at everything i guess

if you didn't know already he played the guitar for Joe cocker’s ‘with a little help from my friends’

declined his first offer to join the yardbirds but later decided to join

was the last member to leave the group

basically was the leader of led zeppelin

was gifted a telecaster guitar by his friend jeff beck and he adored it

and he painted a cool dragon design on it

played on it for the first led zeppelin album

when he was on tour one of his friends painted over his dragon design and ruined the guitar

he produced all of led zeppelin’s albums and is responsible for the remastering of those same albums

paid for led zeppelin’s first album to be produced with his own money

deadass would have whips and handcuffs around with him on tour for the groupies

but was apparently an amazing lover and cared for the people he slept with

one time he got naked on a food cart thingy, put whip cream over his body, and had john bonham push him into a room with groupies in it

has such a small and soft voice

was fascinated in aleister crowley and his work

would collect crowely memorabilia

even bought crowley’s boleskine house

had a bookstore at one point so he could get books easier

struggled with addiction to drugs for most of the seventies

went on a liquid diet late seventies and refused to eat solid food

he got really skinny bc of it :(

miss pamela (one of his girlfriends/lovers) once said that jimmy cried on the phone to her over her playboy photoshoot lmaoo

once flied pamela’s pet raccoon in first class

allegedly had a relationship with lori maddox who was about 15 years old

laughed as two of his girlfriends were fighting each other

was kind of constantly nervous about his and the band’s image

has amazing guitar solos and improvisation but damn sometimes they drag on foreverrrr

deadass scared the shit out of david bowie so much that he had his house exorcised and would avoid jimmy at parties

we love demons

zoso

he’ll never tell us what zoso means and I'm mad

had two people die in his home. one was a friend who died from a drug overdose, and the other was john bonham when he died from choking on his vomit.

has been accused for the deaths of john bonham and robert plant’s son karac bc of that stupid “curse” rumor

deserves critiques for several things but doesn't deserve hate for that

has been through a lot and come out pretty okay

produced his current girlfriend’s, scarlett sabet, spoken poetry vinyl

check out scarlett’s work bc it’s amazing

would probably always be down for another led zeppelin reunion

robert plant

robert anthony plant

born on august 20, 1948

this is the most attractive man ever. do not argue with me.

nicknamed percy

wasnt jimmy’s first pick for a singer

jerry reid suggested robert to jimmy. and when jimmy asked what he looked like jerry said, “like a greek god.”

jimmy thought something was wrong with robert when he first found him bc he was such a good singer and hadn't been signed yet

after a practice together jimmy knew he had his singer

he would call robert “the young guy with the powerful voice.”

he thought about leaving the band early on bc he was so nervous about being in it

convinced john bonham to join the group bc they were the bestest of buddies

he’s not credited on the first album bc he was still under another contract

started song writing for the second album by jimmy’s memory

it didn't take long for him to gain confidence and start owning the stage

once when he was performing a dove flew in his hands

there’s an audio of him singing john bonham happy birthday and it makes me so happy

he would call himself a greek god

would party with john bonham a lot

kind of the hippy of the group

moans moans moans and even louder moans into the microphone

would wear women’s shirts and looked amazing in them

nurses do it better

not to mention his super tight jeans

we all know his dick is huge and he’s just showing it off

has the prettiest, fluffiest blonde hair

and the sweetest smile

can you tell that i find him attractive yet?

has a fear of earthquakes

also supposedly had some sort of a relationship to an underage groupie named sable starr (14)

also has a fear of led zeppelin nowadays

either fear or amnesia

it’s likely that he’s the reason we’ll never get another led zeppelin reunion

though a close friend thinks that if the show went to charity robert would probably do it

robert loved john bonham too much to play in led zeppelin without him

and i respect that a lot

no matter how much he’s offered for a show he turns it down every time

in 1975 he got in a severe car crash and ended up being in a wheelchair

still went on to record zeppelin’s album

once while recording on crutches and started to fall and jimmy apparently zoomed in to save him. robert never saw him move that fast before

his five year old son (karac) died from a sudden stomach illness while he was in america on tour

absolutely crushed him

was deeply upset that neither jimmy page or john paul jones reached out to him during that time of his life

john bonham was there for him though

robert apparently never forgave them for that

a car he was working on fell on top of him and crushed some of his ribs as well

late seventies was not a good time for robert plant

but he got through it all like a champ

hates stairway to heaven with a passion lmao

one time he paid a radio station a shit ton of money just to make sure they'd never play stairway to heaven again

almost didn't sing stairway for the 2007 reunion but ended up agreeing to it after all

he said he breaks out in hives when he has to play that song

he and jimmy made their own symbols. robert’s is the feather inside the circle

in 2007 he won beard of the year

john bonham

born on may 31, 1948

nickname is bonzo

oh boy, there’s a lot of stories about bonzo

he was known as the nicest and sweetest guy ever

unless he was drunk

he drank a lot :/

denied jimmy’s offer to join the group and continued to deny it until robert convinced him

once flew the starship (led zeppelin’s plane) even though he didn't have a license to

hated touring so much

he always missed his family

so he drank

he was so damn crazy when drunk that the other members would book rooms floors above where his was so he wouldn't disturb them

tore about his hotel rooms like no other

he has a son named jason bonham who he loved a lot

bought him a nice drum kit when he was younger

jason is just about led zeppelin’s biggest fan next to jimmy page

one time bonzo broke a girl’s vibrator when drunk

also punched a girl in the face when drunk once bc she waved at him

partly responsible for the famous mud shark story where a girl was apparently fucked with a dead shark by him and zeppelin’s tour manager

liked cars a lot

really really loved his family. cannot stress it enough

was irked that john paul jones got out of playing shows during the christmas holiday and he didn't

punched robert in the face once too

him and john paul jones equals the best rhythm section ever

jimmy would call it magic how well him and bonzo got along

bonzo could handle anything jimmy threw at him

he wasn't really a part of it, but he had to go to jail bc peter grant and two other dudes almost killing a man (long story omfg, but apparently the doctors had to put the dude’s eyeball back into his socket)

was there for robert when karac died

they were really good friends

there’s an interview with them together where bonzo is laughing at robert about his little farm

gave good hugs apparently

played drums like no other could and knew he was good

but still sometimes got insecure and got upset when someone he looked up to said his drumming wasn't all that special

his symbol is the three rings and he picked it out of a book like john paul jones did his

he died in jimmy page’s house (not the crowley house btw)

he had to drink the equivalent of 40 shots of vodka and choked on his vomit in his sleep

led zeppelin died on the same day

nobody can replace john bonham

his son filled in his role for the 2007 reunion show and did an amazing job of it. the whole show is on youtube, go check it out

john paul jones

john richard baldwin

born on january 3, 1946

nickname is jonesy

was also a session guitarist like jimmy

they had worked together before

when he found out jimmy was forming a group he called jimmy and was basically given the spot immediately

not only was the bassist but also the keyboardist

and could play the recorder

insanely talented. put some respect on his name

he talks in italics i swear to god

i don't have mainly crazy stories about jonesy bc he wasn't about that life

deadass he would go on stage, perform, walk off stage and go to a whole separate hotel from the other

he would only tell one person where he was at and told them not to call unless for super urgent emergencies

pissed peter grant off so much lmao

wasn't really super close to anyone in the band tbh

but bonzo was probably his greatest friend in the band

jimmy and robert kind of leave him out in my opinion

or they use to

when he found out that jimmy and robert were making their own symbols instead of picking out of a book like he was he said “of course!” and laughed

was pretty much left out of the live aid show

he had to squeeze himself on the stage and wasn't even able to play bass. he had to play the keyboard

“and thank you to my friends for finally remembering my phone number” -savage as hell john paul jones

he was one of the two people who found john bonham dead

it’s sad to think about

is actually quite funny

he has this kind of dry humor?? idk but it’s amazing 10/10 content

when john paul jones walks into the room interviewers break into a sweat

managed to look like a completely different person every year throughout the seventies or is it just my eyes?

has an Instagram account now go follow it for cute throwback photos lol

that’s all i really have for generic useless information about led zeppelin members for beginners. i hope it was somewhat entertaining. i'll make some more beginners stuff for led zeppelin. i will make y'all stan them lmao. i'm tagging @babygotblueeyes bc i know for a fact you want to get into them <3

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fruitylibrarian · 3 years

Text

quest of the spear live rewatch!

i already spewed my pre call to adventure flynn thoughts all over a text post but I would like to repeat: pre-canon flynn my beloved <3

yes he is a bit of a bastard but he just loves his books and he’s so genuinely just like. passionate and like…. Big? does that make sense? like i mean inside. not literally. bright

flynn’s mom is so fucking funny

and she’s Trying Her Best

you know one thing I don’t understand, I assume that flynn could afford to keep going to college because of like grants and scholarships since he’s all smart and like, even if his mom is well off, no one below the morally bankrupt millionaire line can pay for 22 degrees and not die of no-money-itis otherwise known as Starving

but like. why not become a professor or some other academia position?

you’d be incredibly overqualified and you’re a white dude, so while academia isn’t exactly bursting with new spaces to fill I’m sure you could find something???? and like. a professor in particular, while baby flynn might not be great at the connection part, seems like a natural progression to at least try for considering it keeps you in that comfort zone and familiar space just in a different albeit familiar role, and allows you to go on long lectures people can’t interrupt. and like, professors literally like, part of their job is research and to continue learning, so like. it seems like the natural choice for him to go for?

don’t get me wrong, baby flynn in particular might not be extremely well suited considering his lack of people skills, but plenty of professors are brilliant slightly odd smarties who give long, super engaging theatrical lectures (sounds like him!) but suck at one on one meetings and talking to people or may be accidentally insulting, but like, their class is genuinely interesting and they grade decently so like, I think he could get past that hurdle is what I’m saying

obviously he’d have to work at it and get the skills necessary but you know what that means? MORE SCHOOL, BABY! just in a different direction! like just? it seems like the obvious choice for his situation

ah yes!!! magic letter!!! it’s kind of funny they do this, it’s a great hook and way to make applicants go Uh Excuse Me and want to know more but also like, there’s no proof magic happened either?

although you’d think some people would get obsessive like let me tell you if i encountered real ass magic like that i wouldn’t stop until i had an answer

ah the Incredibly Long Interview Line. it’s kinda how funny how like. Not Special he is but at the same time he is?

“never been treated so badly in my entire life!” what did you say to him charlene

i’m sure he deserved it i just want to know

wait oh no i just realized

all these people are dead

every single one of them got murdered in the first episode of the series

jesus that’s dark

not gonna be able to stop thinking about that one huh

also love how it’s pretty evenly men and women

although it’s still mostly white

fuck that lady just left crying I know they’re doing this to turn up the drama but DAMN, charlene

god he almost gave up. remember the timeline episode where he never became the librarian? weird.

Gkjlfkgjhfglh Where Do You Think You’re Going? (weak gesture like “me?”) Yes You. Get In Here amazing how can she even see him she’s around the CORNER. camera? magical surveillance? why? just to freak people out? amazing.

i do so love charlene, it’s a shame she wasn’t in the show more

also she literally never explains shit. What Makes You Think You Can Be The Librarian he doesn’t even know what that means, charlene

He Doesn’t Even Have A Library Science Degree

oh wow he does actually have librarian qualifications lmao

why did i not remember that

DLKFGJDFG I did remember him sherlocking her tho

wait her MARRIAGE? to WHO?

i thought her and judson were a thing despite jenkins being into her or something?

huh

also why does this qualify him to be The Librarian™ like oh he can sherlock? ok?

maybe it’s just bc he had the balls to do it

well, the sherlock thing is also not completely unhelpful it just doesn’t seem central to his skills, or at least, not the way he uses it (do we see him use it like this again? he usually applies more obscure knowledge then ye classic deduction sherlockian skills if I remember correctly which I may not because my brain is smooth)

judson is such a fucking drama queen

LKDJFGLKDJFGLDKFJG I FUCKING FORGOT HE LITERALLY JUST FUCKING REPEATED HIS MOM’S LITTLE PHRASE AMAZING

also why did he seem to think her sending everyone home meant he didn’t get it why would she stop all interviews because you fucked up

he just fucking walked out of a wall judson you are so dramatic

also warehouse 13 vibes huh. welcome to a world of endless wonder

I could do a whole fucking thesis on warehouse 13 and the librarians or—well that’s a whole other tangent

anYWYA

this interview was remarkably easy tho, it’s not like he wasn’t impressive but it wasn’t mindblowing either????? this coming from a big fan of flynn

the big shiny wonderous eyes as the library lights up……flynn my beloved

also his floofy hair ldkfgjdlkfgj

he’s like this is too good am I being prank’d

why the mona lisa?????iIs the mona lisa magic??? It only became famous because it got stolen why would it be magic??? Is this one of those we make it magic by believing it or some shit things???

Flynn Do Not Open The Random Box In The Library Of Incredibly Dangerous Artifacts

oh hello excalibur !!

oh rip flynn immediately being like “oh im not worthy, trust me” with 100 percent certainty im hurt oof

KSJFLGKDJGLKDJG THE APPLE “the apple from the garden of eden…….” *judson takes a bite* “actually I just left this here”

excalibur hello properly!!!!

judson is such a fucking DRAMA QUEEN he’s so casual!! and cal you too you slippery bitch!

ah the jetpack.

DLFKGJDLKFGJ “it usually takes a new librarian four hours to find the jetpack. you did it in three! congratulations” love the implication that every librarian (at least since it was added to the library) has done this no matter how serious like the bad guy of this movie… *checks notes* edware wilde? jetpack. darrington dare, probably? jetpack. i like to think jenkins did it too (not technically a librarian, but you know)

flynn thinking of himself as embarrassing… ☹

HIS MOM IS SO PROUD OF HIM

part sweet, part funny, part rip

I don’t know what she was expecting when he said librarian tho like. originally he literally looked at shit for FRY COOk degrees don’t always mean shit you know

and librarian is up there with professor in Perfect Jobs For Flynn like what did you expect??? Like even if he’d become an archaeologist (a “cool” job) it’s not like that pays super well either as far as I know??

he was never going to be Traditionally Successful

he’s still the same person he still has the same strengths and passions of course he would go into academia and do something like librarian like????? her reaction saddens me.

just be happy for him!! look at him!!!

ok first of all even normal non magic librarians don’t just put books on shelves and that’s a condescending reduction of the job, and second of all, he is so happy!! he has a job, he’s taking responsibility, he’s meeting people, isn’t that enough??? isn’t that literally what you wanted??? even if it WERE what you think it is why couldn’t it just be a good first step??? like??? fuck??? you did been know that he was doing all those fancy degrees because he loved them not because they’d get him some super fancy job??? I mean egyptology is not the most profitable field you know this isn’t med school or whatever

god.

flynn’s mom, visibly not proud and very upset: of course im proud of you!

ok im being a little unfair, she’s trying and clearly she’s been supportive of him, if not straight up enabling of him, but like this is clearly being presented as like. normal person who is normal forced to take care of freakish strange son who is so nerdy and strange and a loser and she is so tired of his shenanigans and all that WORK she put in and he’s NOT FANCY AND CHANGING TO CONFORM TO HER IDEALS OF A GOOD SUCCESSFUL SON/MAN?

and that’s just all very. sigh.

the snake brotherhood are such obnoxiously cheesy villainous villains they’re even called the snake brotherhood

also I think we’re supposed to recognize him as the previous librarian from the painting but if I didn’t already know that I for sure would not know that

smartass flynn is a smartass

I never got people bringing someone coffee to impress them unless they knew their order like there’s no way you know who she likes her coffee so you could so easily get it wrong—like even if you don’t know exactly how much sugar she wants, you could also just get it entirely wrong like assume she likes black coffee but she likes it super sweet, or vice versa, or whatever. it can go wrong so easily!

or she could go “I Hate A Kiss Ass”

she did take it anyway tho so.

ah i did forget (or just not actively think about) how much like… christian mythology there is in this show :/ I mean we did been knew (excalibur and arthurian legend are pretty important to the mythology)

not that christian mythology is inherently bad it just gets a) annoying, b) boring, and c) y’know, very western centric and all

but then trying to reconcile di—you know what that’s a tangent for another time

then again I do assume no one is going to read this

the library really does just throw new librarians into death and go “hope this is fine!” huh

did they just imply god is canon in the “the librarian” universe

you were so cryptic with the no one thing!! just say NOONE

he’s scribbling in his notebook and mumbling out loud what a mood and I love him. what a nerd

ldfkgjdlkjg god sexy jazz music and a breeze this is so dumb

I do hate the forced love interests in all these movies it’s always like Some Hot Girl Is There And They Get It On!

like he really had chemistry with eve and banter but here it kinda feels like that wish fulfilment and then the nerd gets the hot chick the end and im saying that as the nerd

it doesn’t help that each movie has a different one who immediately is dropped as if she never existed afterwards

maybe it’s not as bad as I remember but. sigh

my instant impression of her is to not like her sorry nicole :/

she’s just so rude? she’s like. hot (derogatory)

i get there’s gender politics here with like. she’s used to being treated like a piece of meat and generally like, why not reap the benefits when you are going to get the creeps too, but like, also she’s just so unnecessarily rude—I mean rejecting his clumsy flirting is one thing but you know—ok I won’t even get into that the point is I just don’t really like her that much even tho I don’t think she’s necessarily a bad person or anything you know

but to be fair I think she got better and I remember her being compelling in her return to the show

and like. I do like how the trend in this franchise is “smart little nerd librarian and badass lady guardian kicks ass” but I do wish that it turned around occasionally. we do get cassandra but like. more lady librarians

wow an air marshal? aren’t they rarely even on flights?

sorry im being nitpicky there for sure lmao. please delete the cinamasins ding my words probably summoned from your brain

I get why shoving him out was necessary but also Wow

Gjklhkjfgh imagine sitting next to some mumbling nerd the whole flight and then you see him fly past the windows

LFKGJDLKJDFG he brilliantly lowers our expectations then jumps without a chute! remarkable!

hilarious or commentary on men getting credit for womens’ competency? why not both

i really thought that she was going to be a lying liar the first time I watched this

ah naïve boy. “uh that’s against the law”

flynn’s greatest strength isn’t just his knowledge but his like. breadth of different topics, just like, passion for learning of any time, and like. the ability to not just know a lot of different things but cross-reference and apply them to each other and use them in tandem to understand a greater whole

and we love that for him!

ah flynn therapizing himself lmao

why would she take him going “this bridge is rotting and physically cant support our weight” as a challenge

or him being cowardly like THE STRUCTURAL SUPPORTS ARE ROTTING

YEAH WHAT DID YOU EXPECT OF COURSE HE FUCKING FELL

ok i lied i like nicole i just don’t love their dynamic

i get what they’re going for i just. not my thing

like with eve there was still a clear mutual respect? i guess? idk

maybe it’s just because i’m more sensitive to mean banter? i don’t like mean banter, even when it’s like, def 100 percent well meaning and not mean spirited and no one is actually offended or hurt

although despite not liking their Thing I do a) think it’s very cute how he looks at her, b) their vibe as they start to get to know each other is Better, c) the end of the movie scene where she rides in for maximum drama? now that was good shit.

oh he’s sherlocking her in a shy attempt to impress her but it’s only going to piss her off, right?

oh she’s just sherlocking him back

KSGFJLDKFGJ LMAO “nerd” and that’s it. fair

Cutting Off His Head damn that’s hardcore

hmmmm cringe,

and more cringe

and cringe.

her waking up to him gone right after telling that story about waking up to her librarian gone and then killed—oof

love the serpent brotherhood lady being like wow!! he’s SO COMPETENT!! (cuts to him screaming)

do these ancient traps just have infinite arrows?

also I do love the whole waltzing across trope what can I say im a sucker

DFLKGLDKFGJLDKJG fucking CHUCKS SOMETHING AT IT and immediately where he would be standing is crushed by a huge rock amazing

he literally just chucked a rock at it and it fell over

ah the classic “let the hero get it for us” move

oh there he is! rip

why does he look like macpherson

not really but kind of

also contrast between the lady always being like “omg the librarian is so smart” and him assuming nicole is the one who did the smart thing

“your tears were perfect” how much more of an asshole can you get

They really could have played him as more sympathetic—“oh, we’re always around these powerful artifacts but we never use them for good! I had to do it, I was sick of sitting back and doing nothing” or like “all those years of danger and guarding powerful things and what good did it ever do me? what do I get for my service?” or anything but nah hes just like “mm power good babes. anyway I love sex and being mean”

to be fair flynn he was the librarian too—a real librarian? I mean yeah edward was corrupted and ultimately failed his duties but he had to have been qualified and actually got the job for a reason

flynn I know you think you sound badass but you really don’t

god not shangri-la again. everything the show did with that was. Bad. yikes

why is—god, I should really learn her name [checks notes] lana fangirling so much?

also following the lamia tradition of “serpent brotherhood second in command who is more interesting than the main evil white guy and also a pretty woc” huh

never got like “this is literally impossible” “well do it or I [generic bad guy threat]” like usually that means nothing lmao

LDFKGJLDKFJLDKFGJ ok first of all god is me? bitch?

second of all. me in english? on this fucking ancient very much not english thing? I mean I guess a) it might not be literal, even though he did say “m, e” by letters, b) it is a christian myth so maybe planted later??? but like?????

dude. giving the super powerful artifact to your prisoner? bad idea. if you’re worried about booby traps have a minion do it.

oh yes your gun is so scary in the face of a temple collapsing

why do heroes always think the whatever is safer with them than the temple that’s guarded it for a thousand years

I get it’s been discovered but like. fuck. still

You Are Going To Crash This Helicopter

SLKGJ HORRIBLE HIGH VELOCITY PIE OF DEATH

flynn and judson…..wholesome

oh here comes more forced romance

just let them be friends who grow to mutually respect each other blease

it is very fucking funny that the mom is like ….. oh my god…. oh my god,,, a WOMAN AJUST ANSEWREDM Y SDONGS PHONE?????????OH MY GOFD?????

he is bisexual. but it’s good he’s getting out

ah floofy hair

cahooting,

Yes You Do Need Clothes

that’s a teleporter sir

god eddie wild is such a boring fucking villain and person

and his plan SUCKS

also the serpent brotherhood (why BROTHERhood?) sucks and hates the library why would they just let this guy, a librarian, literally be their new leader

wow he just stabbed a guy on his OWN TEAM for no reason

great going asshole

love how lana is just like…. O-O

we stan lana. she hasn’t done much and she’s technically a bad guy i just love her

“at last we can be one” what does that even mean

why would lana or any of them want to help him he just killed one of their own for no reason hes clearly tripping on power and leaving yall to die

lfkgjdlkfgj flynn dodging so hard while the others is fight and then PUNCHING A GUY

dfglkjdflgkj wait it’s the professor dude why is that so funny

is he WITH THEM??? I think I just missed something

hold on a sec

yeah I think he just appears??? And flynn just fucking broke his nose iconic

wait so was he with them or is he just here going WHY ARE THERE RANDOM PEOPLE IN MY PYRAMID????????????

oh right he built the—ok I got it

Wait what

I mean I did think lana was neat and she seemed impressed with flynn but what shes just like, in love with him now? that makes zero fucking sense why would she want them to Be Together

Is it just so there can be a catfight between the two hot chicks?

seriously tho? morally pure blonde blue eyed girl versus Evil Asian Chick? really?

for the record NOT THAT IT MATTERS but lana is way cuter im just saying

ah badass judson

THE COMEDY OF THE CAPSTONE CRUSHING HIM DLFKGJDLKFGJ

oh………….pulling out excalibur…. predicable but so good

oh the painting….the very Parenty way of revealing it…… wholesome

oh did NOT like that transition

oh here comes the badass fucking entrance with his gf busting in on his mom trying to set him up with girls

HER ENTRANCE IS SO UNNECESSARAILY DRAMATIC I LOVE THEM

I just love the mom’s face ldfkgjldfkgjdlkfgjdlkfjgd shes like WHAT THEGUFVCJK

again I don’t love the vibes of “oh my weird loser son is finally normal!” but to be fair im exaggerating a bit from just facial expressions it’s just. sigh

but ngl the vindication of him being able to be like. yeah that’s right im a badass now and my gf is cool as fuck is still good

him and nicole do have not terrible vibes at the end but if I remember correctly that mission (time travelling ninjas and hg wells’s time machine) is the one that separated them so rip I guess

overall: good movie! as cringe as I remember but I still love flynn so much

#flynn carsen #the librarian: quest for the spear #going to bed now. perhaps the others tomorrow

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rexnihilis · 5 years

Text

“Hawks, we recently received information from an anonymous source that the S-class villain "Apostle of Faith", real name is unknown, will arrive in Japan with the aim of creating an alliance with the League of Villains, or rather the Paranormal Liberation Front. This villain became famous thanks to the creation of terrorist cells or opposition movements, promoting the removal of the privileges of certain segments of the population, which in our country are people with a Heroic License, and the full legalization of quirks, up to Anarchy. Its quirk is designated in the world register as "Sermon". It allows him to use his speeches to brainwash people and lay commands and orders in them based on his “sermons.” Your task is to find out what exactly he is going to offer for the League and, if possible, capture and interrogate without compromising himself. If this is impossible then find a place to base it in Japan and tell us or Endeavor. End of briefing. Free."

An official from the Hero Commission finished his speech and disconnected.

'Heck. I hope, he doesn't have time to do anything before I eliminate him... '

“Aizawa Sensei, we can't reach Izuku,” Iida didn’t look as calm as ever, and his movements became less robotic.

It’s already 11 a.m. in the morning, but the Problem Child did not get up? Usually he could be met at 6 a.m., and on Sunday even at 5 a.m.

"Go and call Present Mic, meet at Izuku’s room."

Most of the dorms was surprisingly quiet, due to the lack of main noise generators. Mina, Kaminari, Sero and Mineta were probably asleep, but the absence of Bakugo and his endless cries of children led to not very pleasant thoughts. If they had a fight again, then I will break into the office of this mouse and demand an salary increase and a monthly supply of coffee.

On the second floor near the door of the Problem Child stood Urarakа, Yaoyorozu and Todoroki. All three looked worried and tried to reach Izuku.

"Problem Child, get up. It's 11 a.m. already."

Listening and not hearing anything, Aizawa repeated a little louder. The yawning Bakugo heard this, and having looked with his evil gaze, he went up and yelled in his usual manner.

"Get up, you fucking nerd!!!"

Not getting a reaction, he yelled even louder and again not getting a reaction, he decided to use cunning.

"Deku, released a new action figure of the All Might in a Bronze Age costume!"

Not having received a reaction, he blasted from anger at the door with an explosion and she immediately opened with clatter.

"Bakugo, stop damaging school property!" Iida cried out, leading the Present Mic.

" Shouta, there’s no reaction from you, have you really fallen asleep again? " Hizashi expected smiles from the students and grunts from Shouta, but he saw only the frightened faces of the students and the tense hero Eraserhead...

The room was turned upside down, the entire All Might merchandise was burned or broken, traces of fire were throughout the floor. Here and there were especially blackened spots that just could not have been burnt, it was more like ...

Blood...

It was scattered here and there, and large spots of blood were visible on the right wall, from which dried red pens were flowing, and on the left ...

The entire left wall was painted red, and on this red only one phrase was visible: "Death to the Ninth Antichrist and glory to our Lord!"

What happened?

I...

I remember that I was sleeping, then I heard some noise, and then...

Then they attacked.

One of them shouted something, and I tried to hit him with the help of 8%, but they tied me up with something and I felt...

Fear. He piled on a powerful impact and immediately spilled over into the attack with the Black Whip. He was not so painful, but this time he besides usual blows also burned. Each of its flagella felt like something dark and destructive, and the energy resembled tongues of flame, not harnesses of pure darkness.

The pain passed through me like a hellish express, and I lost consciousness...

How...

How hard to think.

Trying to move, I finally felt my body. The impulses of pain from the Black Whip were still felt in him, but this time it was much easier. Something sticky, warm and smelling of iron flowed down my cheek and eye...

After tasting a little, I realized that it was blood. Trying to move, I grasp that the main areas of pain are in the palms and ankles, and I can’t move them normally...

*Crack!*

My back was burned with pain, and the sound of the whip was still ringing in my ears. To my dumb joy, this pain was nothing compared to last night or a couple of particularly bad days at Aldera High ...

I was hit several times, and then somewhere on the side the door swung open and a tall man entered. He was very pale and thin, his black long hair reached his shoulders, anger was read in his red eyes and his lips were open in an animal grin that promised nothing good to anyone

He said something, but I didn’t hear this anymore, having fallen into the quiet and calm nihility...

The "First of the Twelve" burst into the building where the "Fifth of the Twelve" tortured the Ninth possessor of the damned power of One For All.

“The First” was a friend of the Lord even before he accepted his title, but because of constant attempts to change his plans and "remind him that he is still a human and don't forget about those who are affected by your plans, but who are innocent", that our Lord didn't need, because in His greatness He must be ruthless so that everyone would stand under His wing, was called the "Apostle of Dissent".

The "Apostle of Faith" never trusted him and longed to expel him from the "Pantheon of the Twelve Chosen One's", but couldn't contradict the will of the Lord. What is this traitor doing here, and yet so displeased?

“Greetings to the First of the Twelve. Why did such a busy person honor me with his presence?” In the voice of the Fifth there was a maximum of poison, which he saved up from sermon to sermon, in order to bring down it against His enemies.

"Do you know what you did Agustin Cristobal Teofilo Hose Maria Mora Rey Santos?" In the voice of the First, could hear two hundred years of hate and endless war with heretics and fools.

"I do His will and vengeance on those who are guilty of His fall! The Eighth, most damned and abominable of all Antichrist handed over his power to a boy who believes in him like the Guardian of the Body of our Lord, believes in Him! They must be finally wiped off the face of the earth as He desired at the damned Ground Zero in Kamino, be damned this place thrice! Do not stop me, Traitor, because our Lord is with me!" In the voice of Agustin Cristobal Teofilo Hose Maria Mora Rey Santos, an quirkless priest, disillusioned with Christianity and finding strength in His Church, all burning hatred for the One for All clan poured out. If even though six times the “First of the Damned” was the brother of his Lord, he did not deserve such love from His side, because he couldn’t submt to the Lord. The Lord granted him strength, and because of the ingratitude of His brother, that he could not side with the Lord, like his faithful servant Teofilo Santos.

The First looked at the Fifth with the executioner, who did not know where to start torture, sharply flinched, and then his face shone with dark pleasure and stretched out in an ominous smirk...

"Oh, really? Then I'll probably start and we just look at your reaction. Ghrm. Agustin Cristobal Teofilo Hose Maria Mora Rey Santos, the fourth "Apostle of the Faith", occupying the post of the "Fifth of the Twelve", you are accused of violating the most important of the existing the laws of our Church by me, the first of the Twelve in... Crucifixion the Son of our Lord and heir to the great power of his brother, the legendary One For All ... "Agustin's face froze like a mask, and only misunderstanding danced in his eyes. Which, to the joy of the First, was replaced by a look of absolute horror. "Ghm. And this, apart from other minor and major violations the laws of the "Church of All For One". The sentence for this crime, the most terrible of all possible executions - Imprisonment in "Hell". Seriously, that is the second Apostle of the Faith to which I read such a sentence and this is the second case of violation of this law. Rejoice that you didn't kill him. Ah, and something else. " Going аs close as possible to the former Fifth, so that he could clearly hear his whispers, he whispered:"Our Lord is not with you, but BEHIND you. "

The First went to remove the boy from the cross, and the Fifth began to turn slowly, reading one of the litanies of his God...

"Lord... I didn’t want... I didn’t know, I... I... Aaaaa! Argh!!!"

#bnha #dad for one

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blake-belladonna-defence-force · 5 years

Note

What about... 44? Because gremlin Blake stealing clothes

I do love me some Gremlin Blake...

This one is set early on in her clothes stealing career. It’s set back at Beacon when Yang catches her for the first time. Feels, Blake over thinking and Yang being a sweetheart all ensue.

Yang also has a bit of a gremlin moment so enjoy that 😁

////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////

“Uh. Is… that my shirt?”

Blake froze. Yang was supposed to be at her afternoon classes. Why the hell wasn’t she at her afternoon classes?!

“Blaaaake?” Yang sang out from behind her. “You gonna turn around and say hi?”

No, Blake decided. She wasn’t. There was a very fascinating crack in the paint of the windowsill. It resembled an Ursa. Or maybe it was a Beowulf.

“Or we could skip the greetings and you could tell me why you’re wearing my shirt?”

Damn it. Damn her increased senses. Damn her accursed need for warmth. And damn the fact that everything about Yang made her feel so safe. Right down to her clothes!

“Blake?”

And damn herself for developing this very weird habit. Yeah, steal your friends’ clothes, Blake. That’s totally normal.

Gods… What was wrong with her?

“Hey-“

Blake let out a surprised yelp and recoiled from the sudden touch, cringing away from Yang, instinctive apologies already flowing from her lips.

“I’m so sorry! I didn’t mean-“

“Woah, woah, woah!” Yang gently cut her off, carefully placing her hands on Blake’s biceps and softly squeezing them. “Easy there, Blake. You’re fine. It’s okay, just breath.”

Blake flinched slightly at the physical contact but soon, with her partner gently rubbing her arms soothingly, she calmed down.

“I’m sorry.” Yang said sheepishly as she stepped back, hands tucked behind her head. “I didn’t mean to scare you.”

Blake blinked in surprise, ears flicking curiously. It didn’t escape her notice that Yang was tilting her head so that she could give her better eye contact.

“Um. You’re fine.” Blake muttered, crossing her arms across her chest. “If anything, I should be the one apologising.”

“Yes. You should.” Yang frowned but before Blake could actually apologise, she spoke up again with a cheeky grin and a playful wink. “How dare you look better in my shirt than I do? That’s just plain rude.”

Blake glanced down at the over sized yellow shirt and frowned. How was that possible? Yellow was Yang’s colour, not Blake’s.

Blake didn’t think that she looked good in her own clothes much less Yang’s.

“Uh. Pardon me?” Blake huffed in confusion. “Shouldn’t you be mad that I actually stole your shirt? You don’t think that this is weird? Like, at all?”

Blake was very confused to say the least. Why wasn’t Yang more weirded out by this?

“No?” Yang gave her an odd look. “Friends steal each other’s clothes all the time. Granted, most of my old Signal friends stole going out clothes rather than something to lounge around in but meh.” She shrugged, giving Blake a small, lopsided smile. “Like, I won’t deny that I’m curious as to why you’re wearing my shirt but it’s not like I’m mad about it. Besides, you actually look kind of cute in it.”

“…ah.” Blake coughed awkwardly, lifting the collar of the shirt to hide the flustered flush of her cheeks. “Right.”

“Wow.” Yang said, in an over exaggerating tone, pretending to examine Blake carefully. “Is- wait. No… it can’t be… did I just make Blake Belladonna, the badass ninja warrior known for her deadpan expression and ability to cut through Grimm like butter, blush?” Yang grinned cheekily as Blake’s lips twitched in amusement. “You know… I doubt that there’s a single thing in the world that’ll ever match that accomplishment.”

Blake cleared her throat and dropped the collar of the shirt, covering her mouth with her hand to stifle a giggle and turned her head away for a moment.

“Dork.” She snorted, reaching over and lightly whacking Yang in the shoulder playfully.

“Eh, Yeah.” Yang shrugged, playfully smirking at her. “But why else would you be friends with me?”

“Social tolerance.”

“What?!” Yang gasped dramatically, hand to her chest as she swayed as though greatly wounded. “Oh! The fair damsel hath slain the mighty dragon’s heart!”

“Fair damsel?”

“Yes, for it truly was Beauty that killed the beast!”

“Oh my God!” Blake laughed, left ear flicking in amusement. “Stop.”

“Far be for me to deny the request of a pretty lady.”

“Yang!”

“Or would you prefer handsome gentlewoman? Gorgeous dame?” Yang was thoroughly enjoying herself as Blake did her best to refrain from giggling at her partner’s dramatics. “Hot chick? Total babe? Beautiful badass? Take your pick, Belladonna.”

“Stop!” Blake snorted, hand stifling her giggles. “You are so ridiculous.”

“I can live with that.” Yang chuckled softly, smile warm. “Got you to laugh that pretty laugh of yours so I’m happy.”

Blake groaned and, rolling her eyes, pushed Yang playfully. She didn’t bother fighting back against the brief hug that Yang pulled her into and instead, returned it.

“So… you wanna tell me why you’re wearing my shirt?”

“…no?”

“Okay. You don’t have to.” Yang said softly as she pulled back and grabbed her own leisure clothes, heading to the bathroom as she called over her shoulder. “And feel free to steal my clothes anytime, Blake.” She turned to wink playfully. “You do look really good in my colours, after all.”

Blake stared after her blankly for a moment before sitting on her bed and hiding her flushed face.

Maybe one day she’d have the courage to talk about it. To explain that Yang made her feel safe and that that feeling of safety extended to her clothes.

#blake belladonna #bumbleby #yang xio long #rwby #fanfic

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ngendo · 3 years

Text

Birthday Flex

*Text first published on 23rd March 2021 on Facebook.*

Dear People, Thank you so much for the birthday wishes. It's very strange to try to celebrate while there is so much hurt in the air, streaming through our blood, burying itself between each, single, breath. I know three people who have lost loved ones this week, and it's Tuesday. Because of them and so many others, I celebrate the fact that I am still here. That I still breath, that I still get pissed off, that I continue to march on wards to (and hopefully through) 40, that I can complain, that I can lay on the grass in my garden, go for walks in the evening, drink tea, cuddle with my lover, play football with Chairman, harvest mint between giggles with my niece. I MUST celebrate that the things that prickle my skin and make my blood boil, can only do so, because I am here. Being angry is part of being alive, and knowing, that we DESERVE better WHILE we are here. Here. Not tomorrow, not in an afterlife unseen. HERE. I am grateful to be alive on this beautiful, hectic, violent ass planet. Violent, because we made it so. I am grateful to be aging because the other option is to be gone. I am grateful to have anger coursing through my veins, because it means that sometimes I find enough courage to erupt, to burn, and to say NO FUCKING MORE. The liberation to be a woman and to burn so bright that people fear your voice, but cannot come to your face and silence it..... ahhhhh, it's like eating cool chunks of pineapple in the afternoon sun, until my tongue stings. To be an African Woman that can shout my truth and only receive whispers in the wind from those who prefer my silence.... to KNOW that I have brought fear to those who willingly oppress others daily..... it is the scent of freshly cut strawberries saturating my nose. It is the fruition of my toil. I wish that all of us could experience this at least once in our lives, for it is simply being a human. Being allowed to occupy space. That is it. Daily, we operate in fear, silenced in advanced by doctrine, by tradition, by manhood, by whiteness, by the patriarchy. Fuck all that shit. Burn Bissshhhh. Burn. My anger is born of LOVE. >Love for my people. >Love for Afro women carrying too much weight on their backs, while foreigners with lenses exoticize the length of our necks, and our male counterparts pontificate about our resilience with opaque ideas of 'tradition'. >Love for my LGBTQI people ducking and diving between shadows because our society worships a white god that banished Blackness and ALL African sexuality, into aberration. >Love for the people who service our middle class asses daily but every damn time one of us tries to get them better salaries, the neighbourhood committee throws mountains of paperwork in your face to keep poor people poor. (Note for anyone who is economically marginalised, DO NOT trust the Kenyan middle and upper class. We're too busy imagining we can become millio-billionaires while using the Bible to justify your poverty. At any chance you get, throw us overboard.) > Love for the fucking effort it takes just to speak your truth despite knowing that some of your friends will feel the need to inform you that they as a person living in white skin (especially the ones in Europe) KNOW the ultimate and only legitimate complete alpha and omega truth about being a Black person. (Fuck right off by the way. Cheers.) > Love for all of us surviving Christianity through complete cultural erasure and the severing of ourselves from our own Black bodies and tongues, even when we cannot name that emptiness. > Love for all of us relegated to even lower depths of the hierarchy because we were born with not a penis nigh! >Love for us additionally ostracized for being the parent that stayed. (Single moms where you at!? ) > Love for all of us who silently cry NO MORE even as society uses our bent backs as a foundation for the institutions that oppress us. Growing up, I was repeatedly told that I as a girl should be quiet, I should sit with my legs close together and cover myself up, I was told it's not nice for me to be angry, or to swear, nice girls don't move their hands about when talking, nice girls don't shout. I was told, "Women don't have muscles" even as I could tense the rippling sinews on my abdomen and form a juicy waru on my arm. Anger is perhaps the greatest muscle we were taught to never flex. It was smothered into the most silent corners of our ever silent bodies. But our anger is bright and buoyant and fucking beautiful. While others are allowed to tear through nail salons, and churches, and communities, and races, and entire continents, and their psychosis is celebrated as conquest and empire, or noted as depression and 'having a bad day'...... Our rightful and justified anger has been silenced from our very first cry at birth. The rage of women, could turn this whole world upside down, inside out. This woman has muscles. This woman swears. This woman sits with her legs open when she fucking wants. This woman has sex. This woman takes shits. This woman writes poetry and paints pictures. This woman makes films, and my films are fucking legit. This woman loves herself. I love myself. I love myself over and beyond the conditional respect and allowances you may grant me. They are not important to me. I have no love for your rules and regulations set to limit my freedoms. If this hurts your sensibilities, try loving yourself instead. In any case, IDGAF. Happy New Birth Year to me. Happy Re-Birth to all the women I know. We must burn today, because we won't be here tomorrow. We must burn today, because otherwise, when we are gone our only legacy will have been our subservience; kneeling as a stepping stone for the dreams of others. We must burn today, because that subservience will be celebrated to oppress those that come after us. Women. Burn. May our collective anger over run the shackles that contain us. Heck fucking yeah!!

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pomeqraniqht · 4 years

Text

ULTIMATE SHIP MEME! @rustyparker

Send in two (or more) names and I’ll fill all this out about the ship!

General:

How long will they last? - Forever (hopefully) or until one of them dies.

How quickly did/will they fall in love? - Honestly the jury is still out on this, I like to think they both fell in love at the same time, I feel like a better way to look at it is who acknowledged their love first and it was Sofia, and it was about like 5-6 months in? Sofia was honestly not expecting it and for once was just kinda into it for the sex but it turned into so much more than just hooks ups in bathrooms it was fucking all night, taking baths together, and making pancakes.

How was their first kiss? - Hot. It had build up, potential, and it screamed so much more. It left them both breathless and needy enough to a point they both went off and fucked in a clubs bathroom. It led to a lot more kisses and a lot more lewd things that night, Rusty was a drug addict and Sofia enjoyed alcohol, but that night they both discovered a drug they immediately were addicted to: each other.

Wedding:

Who proposed? - Rusty did.

Who is the best man/men? - Roman.

Who is the braid’s maid(s)? - Isabelle.

Who did the most planning? - Rusty along with a wedding planner, it was a small wedding so not too awful much to plan.

Who stressed the most? - Neither? Sofia maybe about the fucking lingerie and walking in the woods in high-heels.

How fancy was the ceremony? - Back of a pickup truck | 2 | 3 | 4 | Normal Church Wedding | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | Kate and William wish they were this big.

Who was specifically not invited to the wedding? - Their parents, specifically; Sofia’s mother.

Sex:

Who is on top? - Both. It’s sometimes more Rusty than Sofia because he’s so addicted to watching her unfold beneath him, but they both enjoy being on top.

Who is the one to instigate things? - Both. I can’t honestly say it’s more one than the other because they both can not leave the other alone, they’re constantly having sex. Especially before when they were dating and had no responsibilities, they had sex everywhere, all the time, day or night. I’d like to believe if class was in session while she was teaching he’d show up and bend her over her desk and fuck her at work too, no place is safe with these two.

How healthy is their sex life? - Barely touch themselves let alone each other | 2 | 3 | 4 | Once a couple weeks, nothing overboard | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | They are humping each other on the couch right now (literally)

How kinky are they? - Straight missionary with the lights off | 2 | 3 | 4 | Might try some butt stuff and toys | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | Don’t go into the sex dungeon without a horse’s head | They’re not insanely kinky but they’re kinky enough in their own ways, obviously no horse heads or latex suits but there is definitely some strong kinks here.

How long do they normally last? - From a few minutes to hours to all night to days. There isn’t a specific time for them it ranges and they both have such a high sex drive I’m sure they could fuck for a week and still want more.

Do they make sure each person gets an equal amount of orgasms? - I’d like to believe so however I feel Rusty definitely loves making Sofia cum endlessly, especially when she’s pregnant and she can squirt everywhere and make a god awful mess. He loves it. He may not be doing drugs now but he’s still addicted to making Sofia his drug choice.

How rough are they in bed? - Softer than a butterfly on the back of a bunny | 2 | 3 | 4 | The bed’s shaking and squeaking every time | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | Their dirty talk is so vulgar it’d make Dwayne Johnson blush. Also, the wall’s so weak it could collapse the next time they do it. - They’re rough. Lamps have been broken, headboards, plates, a TV, paintings, a sun lounger... when they’re rough they’re rough.

How much cuddling/snuggling do they do? - No touching after sex | 2 | 3 | 4 | A little spooning at night, or on the couch, but not in public | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | They snuggle and kiss more often than a teen couple on their fifth date to a pillow factory. There is so much love in the after-care and cuddling that follows after they have sex it’s mind boggling that two people can go from wild animals to soft bunnies.

Children:

How many children will they have naturally? - 4, they both grew up alone and Sofia never wants their kids to feel that way. Plus even if they don’t /plan/ on having those children it’ll just happen. They’re very fertile for a couple of fucked up kids.

How many children will they adopt? - I’m not sure, probably none if I’m honest, but who knows? Rusty was in the system so perhaps they may end up adopting for that very reason.

Who gets stuck with the most diapers? - I feel like they both do? Maybe Sofia more-so if Rusty’s at work but he helps out a lot.

Who is the stricter parent? - Rusty HAS to be. Sofia tries but no one ever takes her seriously and even though Rusty’s the fun dad, she has to rely on him to be stern.

Who stops the kid(s) from doing dangerous stunts after school? - Sofia does because Rusty’s the god damn one encouraging it.

Who remembers to pack the lunch(es)? - Both. They both do this, granted Sofia likes to prepare them the night before but both parents are involved.

Who is the more loved parent? - Sofia will say Rusty and Rusty will say Sofia. It’s a tie. They’re both loved equally.

Who is more likely to attend the PTA meetings? Both of them, they won’t miss any of that. They love their kids and want to be as involved in their lives as possible.

Who cried the most at graduation? - Sofia did, but Rusty shared a few proud tears as well.

Who is more likely to bail the child(ren) out of trouble with the law? - Both of them but Rusty would do it in a way so Sofia wouldn’t find out about it because he wants to be the cool parent.

Cooking:

Who does the most cooking? - Sofia does.

Who is the most picky in their food choice? - Sofia is, it’s a whole thing to do with her insecurities. She’s gotten a lot better but it’s still hard.

Who does the grocery shopping? - They both have to go because of their lifestyle, Rusty is essentially keeping her safe from the papaz when they shop.

How often do they bake desserts? - All the time. Sofia’s got a major sweet tooth especially when she’s pregnant, literally, the house turns into a bakery.

Are they more of a meat lover or a salad eater? - Meat. Sofia forces herself to eat salad but they are carnivores always.

Who is more likely to surprise the other(s) with an anniversary dinner? - Rusty would surprise Sofia because she always cooks and when he does it’s just like the most precious this ever.

Who is more likely to suggest going out? - Rusty, but before they had kids. Now they mostly just eat at home.

Who is more likely to burn the house down accidently while cooking? - Both of them because they can’t leave one another alone so while they’re fucking on the counter the god damn place is going up in flames.

Chores:

Who cleans the room? - Both.

Who is really against chores? - Neither?

Who cleans up after the pets? - Rusty.

Who is more likely to sweep everything under the rug? - Sofia... no one ever looks anyways, right?

Who stresses the most when guests are coming over? - Sofia. All part of her issues, everythings gotta be perfect.

Who found a dollar between the couch cushions while cleaning? - Roman...kept it too.

Misc:

Who takes the longer showers/baths? - Sofia but she also makes Rusty take long baths too, it’s good for the skin!

Who takes the dog out for a walk? - They go as a family.

How often do they decorate the room/house for the holidays? - Every. Single. Holiday.

What are their goals for the relationship? - To last forever even when they hate each other.

Who is most likely to sleep till noon? - Rusty.

Who plays the most pranks? - The both of them do because they’re big kids with water guns in California.

#Her Smile Was Like Sunshine But His Eyes Were Like The Ocean | Russell & Sofia #rustyparker

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aphrodites-law · 5 years

Text

My Favorite

Trope: Soulmate marks.

Twist: Lexa doesn’t have one. Clarke does.

2/? - (Part 1)

A week passed at the hotel, but while Lexa glanced into the sitting room each time she walked by it, she never saw Clarke again. She went back and forth between the hotel and her apartment, putting her boxes away while the windows remained opened wide and the smell of paint slowly faded. Eventually she checked out of Griffin Hotel, where Jake gave her a cheery look before sending her off with a basket of fresh fruit from the breakfast buffet - a welcome gift, he’d said.

With her first classes to plan and organize, Lexa spent most of her time with her nose in her books and binders. She used the rest of it to familiarize herself with Polis, where she picked up a few habits in a matter of days. There was the grocery store with the peanut-butter pretzels that melted in her mouth, the bicycle path that cut through the park, and the coffee shop owned by Raven Reyes.

Raven ran a tight ship and was as welcoming as she was fascinating. Her two loves were space and food, and evidently she had combined them with great success. Her shop, Coffee on the Moon, was exactly what it sounded like - the best damn coffee Lexa had had in a uniquely decorated setting. The coffee machines were themed like space crafts, which Lexa had noticed were wildly popular with kids (and perhaps even more adults); the walls were painted in swaths of silvers and dark blues; and the art hung up was courtesy of local artists. In the display case, well-garnished sandwiches made with local produce rarely lasted the day, if even the rush of lunch hour.

Raven seemed to know everyone and everything, an unsurprising fact given her infectious energy. One morning, Raven had come into her shop without her prosthetic leg on account of the pain, she had shared casually, but not once in the following hour had Lexa heard her complain. She was an admirable woman, and Lexa was particularly fascinated by how quickly she had charmed Anya.

Anya, who wouldn’t admit to feeling lonely while her daughter was at summer camp, had surprised Lexa with a visit that had turned into a week-long stay. She’d met Raven quickly enough, and immediately Lexa had noticed the change in her demeanor. Usually always on her guard, Anya had seemed to... soften around the edges in a matter of minutes. It was clear to Lexa that Raven had caught Anya’s eye, not only with her wit but also her ability to run such a good business.

Unfortunately for Anya, who didn’t like to be surprised by her own feelings, she dealt with attraction rather poorly. That is, she’d be ready to snap if Lexa so much as implied there was something there. Lexa, however, could understand her need for caution: Anya was a working mother who would soon leave back to her home, hours away. It was hard to envision this relationship having a future.

And, surely, it would have remained that way had Raven not suddenly noticed the tattoo on Anya’s wrist and shown off her own: a depiction of the moon with the logo of her coffee shop covering the words she’d had since birth.

“Got it at twenty-five when my boyfriend of ten years dumped me for some chick he didn’t even know,” she explained.

When Lexa looked toward Anya then, she knew her friend’s interest was piqued for good. It was rare to meet anyone who had willingly tattooed their mark like Anya had.

“A decade gone to dust because some skinny redhead told him what he’d always hoped to hear,” Raven revealed with a snort.

“So you don’t believe in the mark?” Anya asked cautiously.

“Oh, I do.”

As equally confused as her best friend, Lexa invited Raven to sit with them at their table.

“I just don’t think the way we go about it works,” Raven elaborated. “Just because you meet - it doesn’t have to mean you’re right for each other at that exact moment, you know?”

“Or at all,” Lexa muttered.

“Well, I do think there’s truth to it,” Raven admitted. “It’s fucking beautiful, really, if we just see it as it is, but we have a messy approach.”

Lexa shook her head. “It’s just always seemed like... Do you love the person because of who they are, or do you love them because the words on your wrist tell you to?"

Raven smirked, like she had asked herself the same question a hundred times before. To do so aloud, however, was bold. “The way I see it? Just because your souls are bonded, doesn’t mean the relationship doesn’t need work. Sure, most movies show us it's happily ever after once the first words are uttered, but in reality the words are just the beginning. It's not easy to go from perfect stranger to soul-tied, you know?"

Anya rolled her eyes. "Cry me a river."

Raven shrugged. "If it weren't so taboo to admit you're unhappy with your soulmate, maybe some would realize it's because they're taking it for granted. My friend, Bellamy - his soulmate was this broody chick who straight up punched him for sleeping with her friend. Insulted the shit out of him; word for word the string of insults that wrap around his wrist four times. Anyway, she didn't give a shit when he showed her. Took them three years to meet again, and then another three to even like each other. Now they're expecting their first kid. But I think the best thing they did was to grow as people. The mark showed them the possibility for something life-changing was there - but they'd have to work for it first."

Lexa glanced at Anya, who had yet to look away from Raven.

"Look, I know it's fucked how you're treated," Raven continued, "but I don't think the mark itself is to be blamed. I mean, I think it was designed as a way to make life a little easier, that's all. But then… I don't know, most civilizations blew it out of proportion and turned it into something else. Decided that those who have it are better than those who don't - and backed up their points by turning the exceptions into the rule. That people without a mark are going to steal your jewelry or murder your kids one day, just because this one markless dude some thousands of years ago happened to be an ax murderer. Everyone loves to forget that ancient Egypt worshipped the Markless. They believed that they were in control of their own fate - freer. And don't get me started on the Greeks! They had whole temples dedicated to them. There's a reason the statues of their Gods didn't have marks, but nobody likes to bring that up.”

“Moral superiority is one hell of a drug,” Anya shrugged.

Raven chuckled. “I don't think anyone is better than anyone; it's just a bunch of people trying to be happy."

"Well, you're definitely an exception,” Lexa sighed. “I’ve been reminded of my place in the world enough times to know that.”

Raven was about to reply when the door to the shop opened. When Lexa saw that it was Clarke who had just walked in, her heart jumped in her throat.

“You’re back!” Raven exclaimed before getting up to pull Clarke into a hug. “How was it? How’s your mom?”

Clarke grinned in the embrace before pulling back to sign something. Lexa watched with rapt attention, trying hard to follow the movement of Clarke’s hands, but understanding none of her language in the end. She watched as Raven tipped her head back and laughed.

“Classic Abby Griffin.”

Clarke then pulled out a heavy paper bag from her backpack and gifted it to her friend, who immediately looked inside.

“Yes!” Raven turned to Anya and Lexa. “Best goddamn blueberry pierogi in the country!”

Clarke looked toward them as well and gave Lexa a small wave.

“You’ve met?” Raven asked.

Clarke quickly signed something. Raven blinked, then burst out laughing.

“Oh fine, just go, you idiot.”

Clarke bit her lip before dashing toward the coffee shop’s restroom. Anya got up as well.

“I’ll be right back,” she excused herself.

Alone with Raven, who was now counting the pierogi in the bag, Lexa’s curiosity got to her.

“Are you good friends?”

Raven turned to her and nodded. “Clarke and I got each other through everything. There wouldn’t be a Coffee on the Moon without her.”

Lexa found incredible strength in Raven’s ability to be so open. “I wouldn’t be here without Anya,” she admitted in turn.

“How long have you known each other?”

“Since college. Anya... just helped me believe that I was more than the missing part.”

Raven’s face fell. “Shit. I’m really sorry."

Lexa shook her head. “It’s fine. Just made me who I am today.”

“No, it’s not fine. You know - Polis doesn’t tolerate that. We have each other’s backs here, mark or no mark. I think you’ll notice when you start teaching the kids. They really give me hope.”

Lexa smiled. “I look forward to it.”

Clarke and Anya came back from the restroom together, not exactly chatting but... Lexa could tell they’d communicated something to each other by the small smile on Clarke’s face. Anya sat back down at the table while Clarke signed something to Raven.

“Oh okay,” Raven answered. “I’ll see you tomorrow?”

Clarke nodded before she glanced once more at Lexa, mouthed ‘bye’, and left the shop.

Raven turned to the table. “Okay, well, I need to put the pierogi in the fridge and make some calls, but let me know if you need anything.”

Lexa sat back in her chair with a sigh. She watched Anya pick up her cup of coffee and then smirk.

“She doesn’t have one.”

Lexa frowned slowly. “What?”

Anya chuckled, then took a sip of her coffee. “You’re so obvious, you know? I figured I’d check when she washed her hands.”

Lexa immediately sat up, hope blossoming dangerously in her chest. “She... doesn’t have-”

“Nope.”

Lexa worried her bottom lip before grabbing her phone. Anya didn’t seem fazed in the least.

“Are you buying a hundred books on sign language?”

Lexa swiped something on her screen. “Yep.”

Part three

#clexa #clarke x lexa #f: my favorite

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