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imaginesofeverykind · 2 years

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Spider-Web ||A.T|| PT.3

Brothers I had no fckn IDEA i used the same gif for the first two parts LMAOOOOOO oh well

MODERN!AU Aemond Targaryen x OC!

PT. ONE

PT. TWO

WARNINGS: Dubious thoughts, Binge Drinking, Drug Use, Aegon being a slutty lil guy

Music pumped loudly, not just bringing a light ringing to peoples ears but they could feel it right through their chests. It was a busy friday night, but it typically was when it was the end of the week, all the Uni students and Nine to Fivers were free to run amuck during weekends. Most adhered to weekend partying but there were always the outliers who partied every day regardless.

The club was called High Garden — partly due to the literal garden terrace where smokers and potheads alike would group, additionally the ludicrous amount of tabs and MDMA that got handed around during club hours. For the ‘classier’ patrons, simply coke in the bathrooms did the trick. High Garden was the only club where the owners allowed illicit activities to take place, and it’s why it was such a hot spot for young people. No Police Allowed.

Eveline sat in the quaint company of some friendly club goers and her friend Sasha among the garden of wildflowers. If there was one thing that the venue always provided, it was that most people had astounding etiquette for one another. If there was a less than ideal type of person going out of their way to make people uncomfortable, they would be quickly reprimanded and barred from coming in. Not to mention just how pleasant most people are, especially those who took solace in the garden terrace, overlooking the city skyline.

It truly was a breathtaking sight to behold, or perhaps it was simply the drugs that had people saying that.

“— If you look close enough at the stars, they twinkle different colours.” Sasha remarked.

It was definitely the drugs then.

“Oh! I forgot to tell you but a few days ago you’ll never guess who I served at work.” Eveline turned to her friend who was barely on this plane of existence thanks to the tabs she had in the bathroom not too long beforehand. Eveline wasn’t in the best shape either, feeling light and airy thanks to the joint she was sharing with the others nearby. She barely received a response to her question but knew the telltale signs that her companion was indeed listening.

“That rich guy’s party we went to a week and a bit ago… his brother came in to work the other day… And remembered me. Weird, huh?”

Sasha snorted, barely keeping her eyes open as her head fell against Eveline’s shoulder, “he had abrothrr…?” she slurred against her friends arm, at least it was concise enough to be understood, but only just. When she lifted her head, she looked Eveline in the eyes and giggled, “mmmm-maybe he’s following you,” it was a jest at best, the high girl always throwing around outlandish explanations for everything, this time seemed no different.

It wasn’t too dissimilar to the time where two guys had shown interest in both the girls on a night out and Sasha spun this preposterous tale that they were actually trying to take turns spit-roasting the girls in some fucked up foursome.

Eveline to this day has no idea where Sasha had even come up with that, but still remembers the night and laughs to herself when she catches a thought of it.

“Sash, you’re being ridiculous.” She merely brushed Sasha off, a playful smile pulled at the corner of her lips knowing that she wasn’t taking it too seriously. Not that she would anyway, thanks to the brain fog that overcame her ability to think properly.

“Oh yeah? Isn’t that him over there,” she pointed lazily behind Eveline’s shoulder to a group of people sitting on the opposite side of the terrace to them.

It caused the girls stomach to drop, and slowly turn her head to the large group, her breath hitched in her throat but not because she locked eyes with Aemond - he was nowhere to be seen - but her eyes locked with his brother, Aegon.

“You stupid bitch, thats Aegon… Y’know… the guy who threw the party.” She hissed, her eyes were wide as she slapped her friend's hand away and slumped deep into her seat. Hoping that maybe, just maybe he was too high the day of the party to remember her face.

“Well, well, well… I thought I recognised you two ladies.”

Evidently not then.

Eveline threw her head back slightly, mouthing a quiet ‘fuck’ under her breath, which was thankfully masked by the giggling mess of a girl beside her, who once again snorted half heartedly. Alas, she was going to be polite and cordial because her parents raised her that way — even if deep down she thought the guy was a bit of a skeev.

“Why don’t you come join us, there’s plenty of spliff to go around.” Not only had he drunkenly sauntered over, but the way he swayed from side to side as he tried to stand confidently over the women was nearly laughable.

His eyes scanned the two, of course he remembered them, it was hard to forget when one of them had a sickenly sweet voice and the other was downright horny when she got drunk. He might’ve almost been cleared out by the time he could converse with the girls that day of the party, but he hardly forgot the dark thoughts that crossed his mind when he initially spoke to them.

“Honestly… I think she’s had enough.” The more sober of the two, sounded as best as she could to come off as apologetic but didn’t care much if she didn’t. It was true though, Sasha was totalled for at least the next hour until she starts the come down of whatever party drug she started with in the afternoon. The tabs that were still in her system, though? She’d be out for a little while longer.

Despite the attempt to look after her much more vulnerable friends, it was no use. Sasha was on the trail for more, whether that be alcohol or weed, her ears pricked at the offer Aegon came over with and she was immediately on the pounce to bail on her friend.

“S-shh, don’ listen to ‘er.” Sasha hushed her friend, standing up and ultimately struggling as she held onto Eveline’s shoulders for support while she shimmied out of the booth and to Aegon’s side.

Eveline blew out a sigh, finishing the rest of her drink in one large gulp and reluctantly stood up to join. Only to ensure her idiotic and horny friend was going to be safe, despite also being quite afflicted by weed herself. It was hard to concentrate on more than one thing once she sat back down with Aegon and Sasha, positive that people were trying to engage in conversation but it only sounded like a muffle of sounds behind a wall. Her eyes couldn’t stick to one target and would dart around the table of unfamiliar people, every so often landing on Sasha who was lucid enough to put more of a ‘sober’ mask on in the presence of new faces.

She finally dropped back into the reality before her when a joint was put in one of her hands and in the other was a drink. Her eyes fell to the drink, dark like bourbon but it definitely didn’t smell like it, “what’s in this?”

As if it were a muscle memory, while she waited in response she brought the joint to her lips and inhaled before passing it to Aegon beside her.

He shot her a cheeky smile as yanked it from her, “that idiot over there —“ he pointed to what she assumed was one of his friends, his face at least she could recognise from the party vaguely, “decided to order whatever this cursed shit is…something the bartenders whipped up.”

More or less that was the truth, his close friend was always hounding on the bartenders to give him the most vile drinks ever, ‘at least they fuck you up’ he would say whenever Aegon teased him for his eccentric taste in mixed drinks.

“Well it smells like poison… what's in this? Absinthe and pickle juice with… sambuca?” Eveline had only guessed with a small whiff as she passed it under her nose, all she could think was how putrid the smell was alone and why on earth anyone would ever order a drink like this. “Your friend is psychotic if he enjoys this, and a liar too.”

The face she pulled as she continued to smell was entertaining at best for Aegon, he wondered if he could convince her to finish it. A devious thought, he had merely handed it to her as a joke but he seriously considered for a moment, that sly glint in her eyes told him that she could be down for a challenge.

“What’dya say? I’ll give you one-hundred dollars right here, right now if you finish that.” He licked his lips before biting down on them in anticipation, he was low-balling for sure and he could offer her higher or even a favour in exchange for drinking that. But in his experience, ‘free’ money was the best motivator.

She seemed to think about it, like she was truly considering it for a moment but she had dignity and pride and wasn’t going to let some rich guy rob her of that just for a quick hundred bucks, if she was sober, she would honour this out of self respect. Alas, she was feeling as though she had a little more fight in her, thanks to the weed and drinks she already consumed, and with a smile she shook her head, “only a hundred? Double it or you can drink it,” Her tone was playful, it was never her intention to extort someone of higher status than her but if she was truly going to do something disgusting she might as well get paid a fair share for it.

Besides, sober Eveline would simply perish at the thought of having this degree of conversation.

His eyes narrowed in faux thought, who was he kidding? His family’s fortune was something he was more than happy to blow away for nothing, and he really wanted to see how this girl handled her booze. There was no ‘thinking’ involved as he reached his answer, “then drink up, baby.” There was a slight sinister timbre to his voice, not to mention the sly upturn in his smirk.

However, this didn’t dismay Eveline by any means as she gripped the glass in one of her hands and took one last apprehensive smell before emptying the contents of the glass into her mouth, throwing her head back as the last of the liquid dregs slipped out. At first she didn’t taste much, but very quickly, like a sucker-punch to the face she could feel it.

The Absinthe was first to hit, burning the back of her mouth and throat, like an extremely hardcore medicine — the type they give out in the ER — and then it melded with the rich licorice taste of Sambuca, and they were not a good combination of flavours together. Finally, the pickle juice snuck up, like an unexpected right hook to the jaw and left a putrid aftertaste that had her reaching for the closest drink within her vicinity.

Snatching Aegon’s Whiskey from his hands - much to his dismay - and taking two big gulps, she felt only slightly violated by the taste of what had just occurred but nonetheless felt as though she recovered rather cleanly from that ordeal.

Spoiler Alert: She did not.

Most of those around the table had their eyes on her in abject horror but also respect. Aegon and Sasha merely clapped in disbelief, her companion not entirely with it to know what actually happened, only mimicking the motions of their newfound Silver haired friend.

And as promised, he handed her two crumpled hundred dollar bills, “I don’t know what I expected… But you have impressed me, dear.”

“I only did it for the cash,” she remarked as she pocketed away the money in her purse. She was in for a dreadful morning, that was clear, but as of the current moment she didn’t care, surprisingly having an enjoyable time with her friend and just an average looking rich white guy.

The night was spent drinking more and more, until the conversations that took place were as much as a blur as stepping into an unfamiliar car which initially was mistaken as an uber, but no one was none the wiser in this state. All that Eveline can recall post leaving High Garden was that she was still alongside Sasha and Aegon had been with them. As for the others, there was absolutely no way she was going to remember if they were or weren’t there.

In fact, one of the only vivid occurrences that she recalls from the evening was playfully shoving Aegon out of the way as they entered the car, adamant that she was to sit next to Sasha and in the middle.

Unbeknownst to Eveline who had been all but wiped out by this time, the car wasn’t an uber at all, it was Aegon’s own brother and close friend Criston who had picked the three up, much to Aemond’s displeasure.

He would still dispute this in future but was ninety-nine percent certain he recollects watching Eveline go to the bar on the other side of the city which also doubled as her night job. He was sure of it. And yet, despite this, here she was in the back of his car absolutely written off and falling asleep on his brother's shoulder.

The grip he had on the steering wheel was strong enough to force his knuckles white, a tense jaw indicating to Criston that Aemond was uneasy and annoyed.

Of course he was annoyed, this was the second time his prey has fallen out of the bounds of his plan but he would do what he does best. And that was adapt. Despite this apparent inconvenience, it did offer an opportunity for him to spin more of his little web and give him a chance to plant more of a seed that he was a better person than the depraved thoughts of his own mind painted him to be.

But then again, he would never be ashamed of his own depravity, hence why he chooses to embrace it.

When they had arrived at the family estate it wasn’t easy herding three drunk and drug fucked adults from a vehicle to even the front door, but Criston and Aemond were successful regardless.

It was only until the youngest silver haired brother noticed the hunger in the older ones eyes when they were set upon the two drunk women, was when things got messy.

Aegon wasn’t going to take the one thing Aemond was unyielding on giving away. It wasn’t going to be like the job, the glory, the inheritance, no, not this time. He was going to take great pleasure in ripping something away from his sibling, especially when the something was of interest to him.

Not to mention he had also seen the way his brother prances around the house disrespecting women, taking them for granted. After everything their mother provided the three children, it was a shame the oldest turned out the way he did.

Thankfully for him, Sasha had already preoccupied herself with Aegon, distracting him long enough for Aemond to stand tall and unmoving in front of Eveline. “Come.” His voice was sharp and commanding as he ushered her quickly past the two others groping one another in a heated kiss before she could utter a single complaint.

His hand had been placed firmly on the small of her back, guiding her gently to the kitchen where they had first spoke just two weeks ago.

She stumbled when they stopped but caught herself on the island counter, looking up at him with hazy narrow eyes as she struggled to form a coherent sentence. Waving a shaky finger at him as she attempted to point, “hey… Iknow you…are you f-f…mmm followingme?”

He had stopped in motion, hand clasped around the refrigerator handles as the words tumbled through him. When he turned to look, the drunken sway of her posture indicated plenty to him that she was simply drunkedly rambling.

As quickly as he had ceased movement, he was back to the task at hand and retrieved the woman a glass of water.

Despite the smudged makeup and her updo has all but fallen out, he couldn’t help but take her in. She was marvelous to behold. And here she was in his house again. He was almost so excited at the prospect he had to push down the primal urges that nearly reared up at the thought of her being so vulnerable and so close by. But he snuffed the thought as swiftly as it arrived.

“You dontsay mm-much do you?” She had attempted to poke him gently on the nose but being deeply intoxicated, her aim was poorer than poor and she poked his scarred cheek instead which prompted a shy laugh, “i missed.” Innocent and so naive, it was almost enough to make Aemond crumble, the laugh alone illicited a strong tightness in his pants but this was almost too much. If he had to be around her any longer he might not be able to control himself.

As enticing as the thought may be to take her like this, he wasn’t like his brother. He may have been fucked up, but he was no monster.

He offered her a cordial smile and guided her through the house, keeping a protective hand on her back to steady her, especially as they ascended the egregiously pretentious staircase.

Much to his relief the typical sounds of fucking were coming from Aegon’s room, confirming that the guest room in between his sister and his own room was vacant for his very drunk companion to rest for the night.

Seating her on the bed, he swiftly ducked out of the room and returned with a shirt of his, placing it neatly on the end of the bed.

He truly couldn’t help himself, seeing her sat on the edge of the bed looking up at him with eyes half lidded. He brought a gentle hand to her face, cupping her chin and tilting it up so her eyes were somewhat looking at him.

“Make sure you change into that so you don’t ruin that pretty dress of yours. Hmm?” His eyes mistakenly flickered down to her mouth, where her lips were slightly parted. It was clear he was one step away from misstepping and fucking things up for himself entirely. He wanted to make sure before anything happened between them, she was the one begging for it.

But for now, he’d have to leave it that little bit longer.

#imagines #aemond fanfiction #fanfic #aemond targaryen #aemond x oc #fanfiction #aemond imagine

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fluoresensitivearchived · 3 years

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beloved by toni morrison (black horror, gothic horror, historical fiction)

what’s it about?: sethe, a runaway slave woman living in exile from her community, deals with grief, trauma and loss alongside her daughter, denver, and her mysterious house guest, beloved. that is all i can say without spoiling the whole thing!

why i love it; it’s about the grief, it’s about violence and blood as a form of love, it’s about paul d looking at sethe’s back and seeing the beauty in her horrible scars, and it’s about sethe accepting that she’s her own best thing

trigger warnings: rape, violence, slavery, anti-blackness

pride & prejudice by jane austen ( classics, romance )

what’s it about; a man of means must be in want of a wife ... mr. bingley is rich and mrs. bennet wants HER daughter to marry him, but like, so does everyone else, but mr. bingley has this annoying, stuck up friend, mr. darcy, and elizabeth bennet (lizzie, as everyone knows her) does NOT like him, but yes she does. also, there’s a lot of social prejudices, like someone with only two servants is poor and weird and uncouth, and someone with a manor is the best, EVEN if he’s been known to disgrace fair ladies 😳 and it’s all complex and interesting to read

why i recommend it; it’s thee original romantic comedy, and while i get annoyed when people water down these classic plots to ‘blah blah blah short thing’, that’s literally the best way to describe it. and yes, there are tender moments, yes, there are hand-clench moments, but there’s also a lot of interesting moments that go into the social politics of the time!

sir gawain & the green knight, as translated by Burton Raffel (classics, poetry, epic fiction)

what’s it about; so imagine you’re having a christmas party, and some weird guy says ‘hey! cut off my head!’ so you do it, and then he stands back up and goes, ‘cool! in a year’s time, i’ll return the favor’, and now you have to go on an epic quest that tests your honor and chivalry and religion. also this guy is green.

why i recommend it; a) because dev patel movie, and b) it’s such an incredible piece of fiction. i read the burton raffel version, but i’ve been eyeing the j.r.r. tolkien version ... you just have to choose which one’s right for you, or! read all the versions until you settle on a favorite!

watership down by richard adams

what’s it about; the rabbits have a complex society. but, more in depth, fiver (the runt of den) sees a human-made sign and has a vision of the rabbit warren being destroyed but ALSO a vision of this promised land...watership down ... there’s power struggles, there’s two (2) rabbit cults, and so many moments that made me want to lay face down in the grass

why i recommend it; fiver is cassandra, a doomed and cursed prophet, and hazel is the chosen one with too much weight on his shoulders...there are so many moments of shock and brutality that are balanced by goodness, by love and friendship and kinship ... the rabbits befriend a bird ... prince with a thousand enemies, when they catch you, they’ll kill you...but first they must catch you

housekeeping by marilyanne robinson (domestic fiction)

what’s it about; after their mother commits suicide, two sisters go to live in a mountain town with their grandmother. when their grandmother passes, their aunt (a drifter) comes to take care of them. it’s about the family relationships, it’s about sibling bonds, it’s questioning what does it mean to be a mother? what does it mean to be a social outcast?

why i recommend it; a young lesbian grows super attached to her lesbian drifter aunt...i don’t know what else you want me to say, it’s so incredibly touching

red dragon by thomas harris

what’s it about; retired fbi profiler will graham is pulled back into the dark world of criminal investigation, and must work with hannibal lecter to catch francis dolerhyde, “the tooth fairy”

why i recommend it; it’s nothing like that show, so like ... dash that out of your head. it’s superior to the show, it surpasses the show. if you want gay shit, you will get gay shit, but the real power of this story is like, the depravity. it’s about will breaking inside because he has to bring his wife and step-child into this world, it’s about will having the potential for great violence and doing nothing with it, it’s about hannibal lecter being a full-on bitch 24/7 and coaxing/teasing that cruelty out of people for FUNSIES, it’s amazing, it’s delicious.

trigger warnings: extreme violence, mentions of cannibalism

no more descriptions underneath the cut for now! i’ll come back to this post when I have the energy! or, you can ask me specifically about the books i’ve recommended.

foundryside by robert jackson bennett

the hare with amber eyes by edmund de waal

mexican gothic by silvia moreno garcia

nothing to see here by kevin wilson

the fifth season by n.k. jemisin

severance by ling ma

oil! by upton sinclair

annihilation by jeff vandermeer

the wizard of earthsea by ursula k. le guin

the final revival of opal & nev by dawnie walton

zami: a new spelling of my name by audre lorde

ponti by sharlene tao

such a fun age by kiley reid

#🌙#recs by yah yah #i wanted to give it a fuller post! also i wanted to edit the text more ... b/c i wanna give my reasons for loving this stuff #aND ALSO! lil summaries/twitter warnings #long post

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quackisinnit · 4 years

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Men in Black au! with Dream, George, Sapnap, Karl, Quackity, c!Technoblade, and Wilbur

Notes: this is for 900 clebration:)) THIS IS SO LONG DKSHS. also i wrote this cause i watched men in black:international the other day

Genre: fluff, romantic, they/them

Warnings: mentions of guns, bombs

Dream

when you first started working with him, he was very friendly and would teach you anything you needed to know

like where the guns are, etc

but from time to time he would be unintentionally flirty

or just make flirtatious comments (sometimes intentional)

"you look good in a suit y/n😌"

"i always wear a suit but thank you"

everytime you hugged or shaked hands after a succesful mission, his touch would always linger

like he would hug you for much longer than anticipated

it would make you flustered but you just brushed it off

soon dream made flirty comments all the time

like all the time

you both layed down on the ground and took deep breaths, that alien was terrifying. "you know, you looked good whole fighting that thing earlier."

"what?"

"nothing."

this kept on going until you (sorta) catched on to what he was doing

"clay, do you like me?" you said out of the blue. "what? no- our relationship is strictly professional and platonic."

yeah you didn't believe him

and he didn't himself

but then again, he said it himself,

he doesn't like you, right?

okay maybe a little bit

he finally confessed when he thought it the was the end for both of you

the alien threw you against the wall, roaring loudly. it ringed through your ears, causing you to yelp. the alien grabbes clay with its other hand and raised him above its mouth.

"y/n since this is the end," clay yelled, "i want you to know that i like you! a lot!"

you looked at him shocked, you opened your mouth to say something but the creature's scream of pain cut you off. your other colleagues had come to save the both of you.

you both watched as they brought the alien back to where it came from.

"so, you like me?"

"uh, yeah. i really, really do."

"good, cause i feel the same." you smile and kiss clay's cheek.

George

he would act very prim and proper

and he'd want you to act the same

he would do little things like fixing your tie, fixing your hair, etc

but on missions he would be very rowdy and make bad decisions from time to time but still calm

"y/n, let's drink with them!"

"but what if the-"

"i heard a yes, let's go."

but then the bad guys showed up

"i told you they'd come!" you said with a slightly panicky voice.

"don't worry, the alien is safe and we just need to get out of here. let me think of a plan."

and boom with george's calmness and smartness you survived😎

but you both got a warning cause you drank on the job-

anyways,

he started acting strange after a few months of working with you

for example, everytime you passed him a weapon his hand would rouch yours

and he would just blush and continue what he was doing

you wouldn't really notice tho since he was subtle with it

george finally confessed after a mission

"get yourselves cleaned up at the headquarters."

"yes ma'am." you both said synchronously. once you were both back at the headquarters, george tapped your shoulder. "uh- so i really like you, can we go on a date?"

you just looked at him, not saying a word. george started to feel more nervous, thinking he did something wrong. "it's fine if you don't want to, i understa-"

"no no no no george, i wanna go on a date with you." george just smiles and grabs your hand, caressing it.

Sapnap

as soon as you became partners, you both got really close a your personalities just matched

anyways, every mission crazy and very chaotic

sapnap cracks jokes all the time

"oh my god, is this alien pussy??"

"sapnap... I THINK SO!!"

its so fun working with him

at the start of your relationship, he made flirty comments here and there

but the longer you both knew eachother, he made flirty comments all the time, like dream

"sooooooo has anyone told you how hot you were earlier?"

"i mean- no? we literally almost got eaten alive"

"well since no one's said it, you looked pretty hot earlier"

for some reason he likes saying those comments everytime your both about to die

or when the situation is just bad

"hey you look pretty attractive right now..."

"SAPNAP SHUT UP AND GIVE ME THE GUN, WE'RE GONNA DIE??!??!?!"

"WHY ARE YOU SAYING THIS NOW SAPNAP"

but when he confessed it was during a normal time

you were both talking about a mission you had to do in a few days

and sapnap just blurted it out

"okay so we have to be in paris next week. i think we should ask-"

"i like you y/n. a lot, with my whole heart" you smiled, "i like you too." sapnap smiled and and leaned in, "can i kiss you?" you just nod and bring him closer to your chest.

Karl

people called you and karl childish and immature during work

but in reality he just made lots of jokes and you both laughed easily💀💀

missions with karl are very fun

fun but at the same time serious

like he thinks very quickly

so if your ever in danger, karl will be there to help

but after you both make jokes directed at each other

"you were the one that dropped the bomb"

"you would've died if i didn't save you🙄"

but its all light hearted and you care for each other

anyways he started to act more serious and calm around you

sometimes nervous

like after every mission you hug

and everytime you both do it you could just feel karl's heart beating so fast

"karl are you alright? you're heart is beating really fast"

"oh uh- yeah. just shocked from the mission and all"

he would also ask you if you're hurt/okay way more

"oh god y/n, are you alright?"

"yeah it's just a scratch"

"okay, if you're hurt just tell me"

he confessed while you were both undercover during a mission

you both sat in the cafe, eyeing the alien that disguised itself as a human. "psst, y/n."

"what is it?" you say, not taking your eyes off the creature. "i like you." karl says quietly. as if he was a kid whispering a secret. for the first time, you take your eyes off the alien.

you look at him, mouth agape. you smirk and chuckle, "so do i." karl smiles and starts giggling, you reciprocate this. "now let's go back to- WAIT WHERE ARE THEY?"

Quackity

chaotic but at the same time quiet duo

during missions its crazy and some times gets out of hand

but at the headquarters/office, you're both very proper and organized

its just so that you both get assigned into more missions together tbh KSHSJ

missions with him is just

*chefs kiss*

one time you were both fighting the alien and somehow he convinced them for a break?????

"HEY WAIT WAIT. i have to piss, let's take a break"

alien: "piss? break?"

"i have to pee."

and the alien just agreed!?!??????!?!

SO YOU JUST STOOD THERE, WAITING FOR HIM TO COME BACK

AND THE ALIEN JUST SAT ON THE GROUND

fortunately, he came back quickly

"okay, i'm back, let's do this😎"

in the end you both won

cause he's alex quackity, what do you expect?

soon he started to act very nervous at random occasions

like you were both just talking about a recent mission you both just done

and you complimented him on defeating the alien

"that was so cool alex!!"

and he just stands there like 🧍‍♂️ "thank you y/n"

HE'S JUST SO FLUSTERED KSJSK

and it's not like your first time complimenting him

he just started acting like this out of nowhere

he confessed while you were doing a mission

you were in the passenger's seat, holding onto dear life. "alex, slow down!" he just glances at you in disbelief. "slow down? we're gonna die if i do slow down!"

after a few turns, you reached a long road with a fiver at the end. alex looked aroud to find another road for you to go on to avoid drowning. unfortunately, there was none.

the buttons that cotrolled the car currently weren't working. so you kept on pushing them. "y/n, before we die, i wanna say something!"

"we're not gonna di- oh nevermind, what is it?" you yelled. "i like you!"

all you could do was to push the buttons more aggresively, hoping to get out alive. to your surprise, the car started to float of the ground.

once you had both reached the sky, you both started clapping and cheering. "lets go!"

"we did it y/n holy shit"

"so... you like me?"

"what? no, i didn't say that. what do you me-"

"its fine alex. i like you too"

Technoblade

he would be quiet and professional

also a little intimidating

like on your first mission he did almost all the work

and in a way you were kinda his assistant

at first you thought this was how missions worked

1 leader and 1 follower/assistant

but then you talked to your colleagues about your missions with him and they told you it was meant to be 2 partners, not leader and assistant

so you confronted techno about this

which left him a little surprised

cause he was the one supposed to confront people, not the other way around

this made him intrigued about you

so techno spent more time with you to learn more about you

which caused the both of you to get closer

when people saw this, they were really confused

cause he was so soft, caring, and nice around but around them he was cold and intimidating

but then techno started to act very flustered and nervous around you

he tried to hide it, but failed

like you would just be talking to him and he would just randomly act flustered

"okay so since he's in [street name], we should turn left to catch up." you said while holding onto the steering wheel. "uh huh..." techno just looked at you, not saying a word.

"techno? are you listening?"

"oh- uhm. yeah, sorry." he said as he opened the sunroof and got out his gun.

this kept happening so you decided to confront him about it

(the same way you first confronted him)

"techno, are you alright? everytime we're in a mission or just talking you seem really out of it"

"i'm fine, just tired."

which isnt true?? his whole brand was like staying up and still having enough energy for a mission

so you were suspicious but didnt think much of it

he confessed while you were at a diner talking about an upcoming mission

you drank some water and cleared your throat. "do you think we need a disguise?"

"uhm, i think we need to..."

"need to?" you waited for his answer. "i like you." he blurted out, looking down at the ground tp avoideye contact. all you could was smile, "i like you too techno, a lot."

technoblade looked back up to you slowly with a small smile but with a shocked expression. you cup his cheek from across the table and caress it, smiling.

Wilbur

he would be a combination of george and dream

prim, proper, and friendly

missions with him would be fun but still professional

he'd crack jokes all the time but at the same time he can finish the mission

idk why but for some reason he loves timing himself during missions

"aye y/n, we got 3 days and 7 hours! not as good as last time but still alright"

"wilbur why do you even keep track-"

anyways

all of a sudden, he started to be more messy during missions out of nowhere

like instead of having everything in control, everything would be out of place

one time you both almost let the alien escape

"wil are you alright? you've been a little off lately." he rubbed the back of his neck, "yeah, i'm fine, completely fine."

you were worried so from time to time you would ask him if he was alright

and he would always answer with the same thing

"i'm fine, y/n. don't worry about me"

or something along those lines

he confessed during an argument

"wil we could've died! we and many people could've died." wilbur paced around the room, rubbing his neck and running his hand through his hair from time to time.

"i know, i know."

"if you know then why did you do that?" you said, raising your voice. "because-"

"beacuse what wilbur? you're feeling a little tired but you're fine? wil please tell me what's goin-" you were yelling and your eyes started to become moist. "because i like you, y/n. so so much."

he cupped your face with both of his hands as his eyes began to moist as well. "i-i like you too wilbur." was all you managed to choke out. "but please be more careful. you promise?" wilbur placed his forehead on yours, "i promise."

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janiedean · 3 years

Note

Book!Theon is Azor!Ahai, not Jon. It makes no sense narratively for Jon to be AA, and it’s the most stereotypical thing ever, and he’s already stereotypical, he’s the red flag for the audience. Theon’s chapters are full of hints, he has the perfect salt/smoke/stars/dragons thing at the end of ACOK, when he “dies”. His story is about destroying death, his entire narrative, with things that come from mythology and ancient literature, points to that. The show is trash, but don’t you think that it’s a little weird that Theon is there at the end and then Arya comes out of nowhere and becomes AA? And what ending does she get? Exploring the unknown SEA with SHIPS? Being free and on her own? Maybe it doesn’t make sense for her because it’s not for her. D&D already took everything else from Theon, they took this too. And even if he’s not AA, he’s still clearly connected to magic and all of that, he didn’t go though so much for nothing, he didn’t take his name back for the first time in his life, his name that literally means “godly”, for nothing. He has something big to do, and it’s about himself, not Robb and the Starks. And he’s also so clearly connected to the politics of the north and of the iron islands, a villain was literally created for him, so I don’t understand how can you say he’s not really important and all he’s got left to do is retire in a house and be sad. Of course he has a lot of trauma and that’s important, but I don’t like how people reduce him to that and act like just because those things happened, he can’t do anything else

anon with no ill will and I swear I don't want to sound pedantic or anything but I, uh, never came to the conclusion you say I came from - that said let's go in order even if I think I already went through all the reasons why it makes literally no sense if it's anyone but jon, but let's start with one thing:

It makes no sense narratively for Jon to be AA, and it’s the most stereotypical thing ever, and he’s already stereotypical, he’s the red flag for the audience.

it's stereotypical.... to us maybe, but it is not to westeros. like, you're looking at it through audience-lens because it has been years and the show confirmed r+l=j and we all figured that shit out, but to westeros, the idea that the prince that was promised is a bastard guy serving on the wall aka a state-sponsored prison where people go to not die and is filled to non-desirables to society is... the least likely option in existence? no really, but again:

first thing that should quiet all doubts, when melisandre asks r'hollor to see azor ahai bc she wants to see stannis, r'hollor shows her jon snow and instead of going like 'uh wait why am I seeing another dude' she's like 'I want to see stannis but r'hollor shows me jon snow there must be some disturbance on the line', like she doesn't even consider for a second that it might be jon;

no one else has brought WITHIN THE NARRATIVE jon up as a likely candidate - they said stannis, they said dany, they said whoever but no one ever said hey jon snow might be AA, because again no one even suspects that it might be jon;

other matter that you're overlooking here: if theon is azor ahai.... it means that the rebellion basically was for nothing? because like the entire shtick with rhaegar targaryen's bad life choices™ is that he was apparently a swell dude, then he read a book where somehow it was exactly explained how the apocalypse was gonna happen, he deduced that he was the guy who had to father AA/the prince that was promised and in order - first he doesn't care about fighting but suddenly after that he starts getting learned; - he immediately worries over having THREE children from which we can deduce from the narrative that as far as he knows in order to fight when the wights come he has to have three kids for three dragons and one of them is azor ahai; - the moment his wife can't have more than two even if he's sure that he already had the right one (aegon) he still runs off with lyanna to make sure he has the third because it's that important that HE rhaegar targaryen fathers the three heads of the dragon... to the point of starting a civil war and most likely giving arthur orders to make sure that the kid lives at all costs even if he thinks lyanna's kid is NOT AA; - let's remember that the entire schtick is also that 'he is the ptwp and his is the song of ice and fire' which means that this kid of rhaegar's is the person these books are titled after.

now, let's look again at tyrion's infamous quote which I always bring up in these cases but let's refresh our memory here Prophecy is like a half-trained mule. It looks as though it might be useful, but the moment you trust in it, it kicks you in the head now: given this, we can absolutely assume that no single prophecy in this book goes the way the person at the end of it interprets it... which means that rhaegar was wrong on a lot of accounts, but guess what, the thing is that one out of three of his kids is dead (if we count aegon as trueborn, if he's not then two on three but I think he's trueborn) and the one who hatched the eggs/has the dragon is DANY so he already was wrong on head of the dragon #1, and he can absolutely be wrong on aegon being tptwp which would mean mistake #2 and we should know about the prophecy, but one of his children being AA and his being the song of ice and fire looks a bit too much of a stretch to be incorrect and have AA being someone else's son also would be.... but if AA is jon ie the one he had for last that he was sure was not AA and who doesn't even have the targ name (nor the stark one) and no one suspects having that kinda ancestry then yes it fits exactly all the parameters and it still allows for rhaegar to have partially misinterpreted the entire thing even in large chunks but not enough to make it look like he was completely making shit up, which... I mean the long night is coming I don't doubt he had very good reasons to want to stop it; also, anon not to beat the dead horse, but: - jon's death fits all the prophecy parameters already there's the bleeding star, the smoking wound and the salt of the tears which btw is not obvious nor something you'd immediately do 2+2 about... which fits perfectly with the above - jon died and came back to life in the godforsaken show like he's literally the only idiot who resurrected in it and we're supposed to handwave it the way dnd did? - jon has a valyrian steel sword that he can handle while theon atm really doesn't - we could argue that ygritte could be a possible nissa-nissa contender though I mean maybe it could also be that he and val get hot and bothered and it turns out it's her or someone else and that hasn't happened yet but surely there's more evidence for that with jon than with theon - theon has like... povs in two books for a total amount of less than fifteen chapters, jon has at least ten chapters per book or so on, which just mathematically makes jon a main fiver character while theon is not and like I understand deconstruction and all but you don't make your ace in the hole mystical prince hero character someone who has had fifteen chapters total at most unless I remember wrong the amount he had in acok in comparison to someone who was a main throughout the entire thing - like guys I say it as someone whose third-fave char is theon, theon is not a main fiver™ character and that's okay that's not the point, and with that I don't mean he's not important, I mean that he's not one of the five main ones that have most of the plot stuff on their shoulders and he's not THE main character, because if theon is AA then these books are named a song of theon greyjoy and considering that the main five are jon tyrion arya dany and bran I think it's highly not probable that at the end of it theon is the one character to rule them all

and that was for how jon fit the criteria, but theon doesn't fit them because again he doesn't have a number of chapters/povs that justifies such a plot twist, balon is certainly not rhaegar and I don't see how rhaegar reads a prophecy wrt balon and thinks it's about him, the heads of the dragon should be three and theon had three siblings two of which are dead and asha has no tie to the dragon storyline, this means that theon should be able to ride/command a dragon and we know that in theory just targs can and there's already three of them around - dany jon and aegon - and if anyone who's not a targ has a narrative reason to ride a dragon is tyrion not theon... and tyrion is a main fiver too, also there's the nissa-nissa/burning sword angle and as it is theon could absolutely use a bow again but a longsword with his hands maimed like that and no muscle mass would be a bit implausible, in order for the reborn prophecy to actually make sense it means his last adwd chapter should have smoke, salt and the bleeding star which it doesn't but jon's has so there's that

now, re what you said wrt theon:

Theon’s chapters are full of hints

not really? he doesn't have a tie to the magical storyline beyond his connection to bran. they have hints for a lot of things but that he's AA? idt so

he has the perfect salt/smoke/stars/dragons thing at the end of ACOK, when he “dies”

okay but then I could use the same argument for saying that AA could be davos when he survives blackwater because he says he woke up in wreckage of smoke in salty water, and then stannis has equally valid arguments bc he has the shiny sword and he's in dragonstone etc and we all know it's not stannis, also an AA death at the ending of acok when the topic has barely been introduced in dany's vision is entirely too early for me to drop that bomb

his story is about destroying death, his entire narrative, with things that come from mythology and ancient literature, points to that.

his story is about overcoming trauma and abuse and not dying in the process (which is why I think the show was trash) and okay but everyone in these books has something that comes from a mythology or ancient literature, like jaime brienne and c. all have arthuriana roots same as bran, doesn't make any of them a viable AA candidate

The show is trash, but don’t you think that it’s a little weird that Theon is there at the end and then Arya comes out of nowhere and becomes AA?And what ending does she get? Exploring the unknown SEA with SHIPS? Being free and on her own? Maybe it doesn’t make sense for her because it’s not for her.

considering that maisie williams was shocked that arya was AA and she also thought it made no sense and that dnd never thought theon had his own storyline while I can agree on the fact that it fits more for him as an ending than for arya, I don't think that means it makes him AA, same as I think that they gave sansa his storyline and possibly his confrontation with ramsay and I'm not 100% convinced on the last part anyway but that just means they didn't realize theon doesn't exist for the starks' storyline, also like.. in the show everyone but c. was in WF and theon was already dead when arya did her thing and honestly idt the battle of the long night will ever go like that anyway so idt even partially show truthing is bringing us anywhere

and even if he’s not AA, he’s still clearly connected to magic and all of that, he didn’t go though so much for nothing, he didn’t take his name back for the first time in his life, his name that literally means “godly”, for nothing

I never said it was for nothing which I'll elaborate in a second and ofc he's connected to the magic storyline... because he's connected with bran's storyline and his last round of atonement has to happen through bran in the sense that since he was the one basically forcing bran out of wf now he most likely has to facilitate bringing him back or smth (surely not dying for him), but like whatever magical stuff he has going on it has to do with bran dot, not with AA which I still think he doesn't have a stricter text connection to than davos has for that matter and idt davos is AA as I think I made clear

He has something big to do, and it’s about himself, not Robb and the Starks.

never said he didn't, and I also said that I wasn't going to speculate in detail about what theon has to do because I don't think there are enough text elements to say it now but there will be when wow comes out for sure, but like again I don't want to make predictions when I don't have the elements and wrt theon's themes/possible canon ending etc I always said that he most likely isn't going to inherit the islands but that he'll do something huge before the books are done which is gonna be tied to the northern storyline and possibly to bran because he has to go specular to acok - acok is his downfall, adwd is 'I'll find myself again', wow+ados have to be what would theon do if he decides his own thing while being his own person, or recycling my old THEON HAS HEGELIAN THEMES IN HIS STORYLINE acok = thesis, adwd = antithesis, wow+ados = synthesis so obviously he has something huge in the plans.... I just don't think it means he's AA

And he’s also so clearly connected to the politics of the north and of the iron islands, a villain was literally created for him, so I don’t understand how can you say he’s not really important and all he’s got left to do is retire in a house and be sad

aaand here we get to the point which is that... I never said that? I honestly never said that? I said he has to overcome his trauma and live and thrive and be happy after that. if he retires in a house at the end of ados after he does whatever he has to do in the main plot it's going to be because it's what he wants to do and most likely he and jeyne are going to be adorbs while doing it together or smth or if he goes back to the islands and advises asha then he's going to be happy doing that too, but like... the entire point of theon's sl is that he overcomes that horrendous abuse while not being a perfect good victim™ throughout and still be happy after and gain his redemption? that's what I always said. I never said that now he can just retire and be sad. trauma recovery is becoming happy after getting over your trauma. not being sad. and like.... sometimes not getting amazing mythological things but just being happy by yourself is actually a goal? again, grrm is a lapsed catholic. if I know that breed and I do, he doesn't think redemption and happiness are in shortage at the supermarket. and in order for theon to have narrative importance/weight/relevance he doesn't have to do magical mythological IMPORTANT™ things (even if I think he does have something cooked up as I said above), but like the entire point of his sl is the trauma recovery. he's there for that. that's literally his point in the plot and the fact that grrm created a villain for him means that he thinks it's an important thing to explore.

also I personally think that theon's arc is the best written thing in those books so like I don't want to undermine its importance, I just don't think that in order to be important™ then theon has to be dragged kicking and screaming into main fiver territory because there isn't the need.

. Of course he has a lot of trauma and that’s important, but I don’t like how people reduce him to that and act like just because those things happened, he can’t do anything else

I don't like that either esp. when coming from dnd who didn't even let him have it fully, but: and when did I ever do it? I never said that theon is only his trauma. my standing opinion wrt theon is that he's grrm's best written/constructed character (along with jaime) and his most innovative one (jaime following but theon wins it) because theon deconstructs the backstabber trope which I already went on about but:

again usually ppl who backstab the good protagonist™ get caught and punished and you never hear their pov

theon has all the povs

he's the main char in that storyline not robb

he has entirely understandable reasons that ppl decided aren't sympathetic just bc they don't want to admit that in his position they'd have done the same thing

the audience hates him for having contributed to robb's downfall but then he gets a comeuppance that's completely not what anyone would deserve for that and he gets the spotlight/the sympathy again

he gets narrative redemption saving jeyne so you can see he's not an asshole at all

has to get through horrific abuse for his entire life not just with ramsay, he's not a good victim™ but he's still written in a way that makes you want to root for him and at the end he actually comes through so you want him to keep on succeeding

which is smth that with the backstabber trope never happens

now the thing is that theon's there bc a) identity issues b) trauma recovery storylines that then get tied to bran's main one but like idg why just having the recovery storyline would make him lesser - saying he's not a main fiver doesn't mean he's not important, it means he's not a MAIN™ character... which in asoiaf doesn't matter bc even ppl without povs are important to the narration and are there to drive a point (see sandor and stannis), and I don't see why saying that the most important part of his sl/the one grrm wants to stick with the readers is the survivor part of it rather than whichever heavy magic related plot thing he has to play in the future means undermining his importance. and while I think he has that role, idt it's the most important one he has bc being a survivor is what sells his storyline/the entire arc of his character.

then if come wow I'm wrong I'll be like okay I fucked up, but: honestly, imvho there is no way that azor ahai is not jon snow, the fact that collectively as a fandom we think it's obvious doesn't mean people in westeros do, each single point of evidence is at jon and if occam's razor is a thing then it's jon and that's okay because as deconstructed chosen one as he is, jon is still the protagonist of these books and regarding the prophecy above, it makes a lot more sense that this series is titled a song of jon snow and not a song of theon greyjoy and I say this as someone who vastly prefers theon as a character. also, if smth is well-written, readers should see it coming, so the fact that jon is AA isn't predictable if it's true, it's grrm.... knowing how to write a book and plant his hints because if everyone guessed right then if he makes it suddenly someone else bc jon is too predictable then it's dnd making it arya bc SURPRISE WE NEEDED YOU TO GO LIKE WTF HAS JUST HAPPENED INSTEAD OF FOLLOWING THE NARRATION TO ITS NATURAL CONCLUSION, not 'it's too predictable' or the audience red herring the way jaime being the valonqar is an audience red herring. jon being AA should be absolutely obvious for the reader who paid attention and a total surprise for the other characters in the narration, the audience red herring is more dany than anyone else imvho and I'm dying on that hill for now, thanks for coming to my ted talk but like I don't see how it's anyone but jon personally X°D

#jon snow #theon greyjoy #janie writes meta #idk anon i've never said theon wasn't important #i said he wasn't a main char #and like.... my fave char is robb #who doesn't even have a pov #is EXTREMELY important to the narration bc the rw is the crux of 50% of the plot #and i wouldn't call robb a main either #and in asoiaf there are five mains™#and everyone else is on a level of importance #but like those five mains are MAINS more than the others #and jon is the main-est of them so X°DDD #like the fact that the protagonist of a series is the one that has to save the world isn't smth that i think grrm wants to deconstruct #he wants to deconstruct HOW he gets there #but that's mvho #peace

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dameronology · 4 years

Text

london calling {poe x reader} - 1

a modern coffee shop au

in this chapter: you could have sworn that london was trying to eat you alive. you didn’t ask the universe for a reason to stay in the city but it gave you one anyway - in the form of poe dameron, your new manager.

warnings: swearing

this was based off of a dream i had & then @cherieboba mentioned an AU...and now we have this. enjoy!

- val xx

‘Will you watch where you’re fucking going?!’

You hated Tuesdays. Tuesdays were truly and completely awful in every sense of the word. They were slightly better than Mondays but still...undeniably dreadful. This one had been no exception. You’d woken up late (and hungover, but that wasn’t relevant) and you were convinced that the Department of Transport had personally paid every single commuter to make your life a living hell that morning. Whatever patience you’d had upon waking up - and trust me, it wasn’t much - had worn completely thin by the time you’d been released from the hellish grips of the London Underground.

Your main concern was getting to work on time. The start of your shift coincided perfectly with the morning rush - also known as two straight hours of grumpy, uncaffeinated commuters. It was your job as a barista to provide them with coffee and to do-so in a timely manner. Anything less than thirty seconds would often result in a middle-aged, greying businessman coming for your ass. This morning, you were prepared to bite back.

‘How nice of you to show up.’

‘I know, I know!’ You pushed past your co-worker, tugging your apron around your waist as you did. ‘I overslept,’

Finn rolled his eyes at you, shaking his head. ‘Then you owe me five pounds.’

‘Why?’ You grumbled, pulling an order receipt from his hand.

‘The bet, remember?’ He replied. ‘You have officially been late twenty times so far this year.’

You let out a groan, mind going back to New Year’s Eve. The pair of you had made a deal that whoever was the first to be late twenty times owed the other a fiver - and it looked like you would be paying for his lunch today. It was unusual for you to be late so many times in a row but in the absence of a manager or acting boss, you’d let yourself slip a tiny bit. You knew that had to end today, however, because your new manager was due to start.

‘I’ll give it to you when I get paid.’ You said. ‘My rent is already late and that five pounds could be detrimental-’

‘- I’m just taking the piss.’ Finn chuckled. ‘Get these orders done and we’re even.’

He slid you the pile of receipts and you immediately slipped into autopilot. You’d been a barista for the better part of five years by that point; your hands could be at work whilst your mind was elsewhere. That was certainly the case today - your mind was raking through your financial woes and the fact that your rent was due four days ago - as you worked. After fifteen minutes of here’s a small skinny latte for Brian! and a large Americano to go for Roger!, you’d completely ridded the shop of the queue.

‘Busy morning, huh?’

You peered up from the coffee machine, eyes falling on the man in front of you. He was holding a half-empty cup of coffee, a smile on his face and warm brown eyes examining the mess of coffee and milk around your work station. He had a tangle of messy curls and...well, hot fucking damn. What else were you supposed to say?

‘Uh, yeah.’ You smiled. ‘Highlight of my day, I suppose.’

He grinned at you. ‘Do you enjoy working here?’

‘Yeah.’ You nodded. ‘I mean - it gets stressful but a job’s a job, right?’

‘Right.’ He replied, eyes falling to where your name tag rested on your apron. ‘I’ll see you around.’

Trying to hide the blush on your face, you picked up the empty milk cartons and carried them through to the kitchen at the back of the shop. Finn was already in there on his phone, swiping through Tinder. Your best friend’s love life was often a subject that came up on shift - as far you were concerned, he deserved the world. It was finding the world that was the hard part.

‘Hot customer alert.’ You greeted him. ‘And I mean hot.’

‘What kind of cute are we talking?’ Finn looked up from his phone. ‘Like...Leo Dicaprio in Titanic cute kind of hot or Leo Dicaprio in the Revenant, large and hairy kind of hot?’

‘Kind of in the middle.’ You replied, dumping the cartons in the bin. ‘He said he would see me around, so I guess he’s a new regular?’

‘Actually,’ somebody else’s voice came from the doorway. ‘I meant see you around as in I’m the new manager.’

You had never wanted the ground to swallow you more. Seriously - if the jaws of death could have opened right there and then, you’d be willing to jump into them with the tip of your hat and a so long, folks! This was definitely the worst Tuesday of your life. That was truly saying something, because you’d spent all of last Tuesday scraping dried milk off of a table. And, the Tuesday before that, you’d got stuck in the doors of the tube on the Jubilee Line and then -

-Not relevant. The presence of other shitty days didn’t erase the fact that you had just called your manager hot and compared him to Leonardo Dicaprio. Right to his face.

‘Hey, Finn?’ You glanced up at your co-worker. ‘I think it’s time I quit-’

‘- no, I take it as a compliment!’ He chortled. ‘I’m Poe, Poe Dameron. You’re the assistant manager, right?’

‘Yeah.’ You nodded, trying to hide the blush creeping up your cheeks. ‘Unless you fire me.’

‘No, I like a colleague who bigs me up.’ Poe grinned at you. It only made the blush worse. ‘It’s a nice store. I’m excited to work here.’

‘And I assume you know how to make coffee?’ You quirked an eyebrow at him.

‘I could do it in my sleep.’

You handed him an apron. ‘Brilliant.’

It seemed as though whoever was above had answered your prayers, because another queue quickly began to form and you had to get back to work. Poe and Finn chatted amongst themselves, bonding over the fact that they were both Americans working in London. You, meanwhile, focused on pumping out oddly specific coffee orders.

‘A hot-but-not-too-hot black Americano for Holdo!’ You called.

Mrs Holdo - or, Holdo as she insisted on being called - was one of your regulars. She was a high powered business woman who stopped by the coffee every morning. It was usually one of the highlights of working the morning shift. You were convinced she was on steroids of some point because she was the literal definition of a power bitch. The fact she dyed her hair lavender made her even more iconic.

‘Morning!’ You beamed at her, sliding her drink across the counter. ‘How are things at the law firm?’

‘Stressful, as always.’ She grabbed the cup. ‘New manager, I see?’

‘Oh, yeah.’ You glanced over your shoulder at him. ‘That’s Poe.’

‘You talkin’ shit?’ He grinned at you, giving you a wink.

Once the queue had died down again, you made yourself a coffee. A few people were fluttering about the shop; it was the usual, really. There was a businessman on his laptop at one table and an artist at the next. One of the perks of working in such a central area was all the people you got to meet. It certainly made the job more interesting - and you had a feeling that your new manager was only going to add to that.

‘So - tell me about yourself.’ Poe leant against the counter next to you, nudging you with his elbow. ‘Other than the fact you think I’m hot and that you probably love Leonardo Dicaprio.’

You let out a groan. ‘You’re killing me, man.’

‘If that’s the case, I hope you get someone to cover your shifts before you die.’

‘Isn’t that your job?’ You shot back. ‘Being the manager and all.’

‘You are my assistant manager-’

‘- no I am the assistant manager.’ You cut him off. ‘And I’ve been here five years so I know all that you could possibly need about running this place.’

‘Mm?’ Poe raised his eyebrows. ‘Care to share?’

‘Finn can’t be on shift with Hux - he’s an irritating part timer, really up himself - because they will kill each other.’ You paused to take a sip of your coffee. ‘And Kaydel is super sweet but she’s always late, so it’s best to put her on afternoon shifts.’

‘Like you were late this morning?’

You groaned again. ‘It was just one of those mornings - it was one thing after the other. I swear it won’t happen again.

Poe gave you a soft smile, the sarcasm fading from his face. ‘I’m just kidding. Don’t be so hard on yourself.’

With that, he took the coffee from your hand and took a sip. ‘Jesus Christ, what is in this?’

‘Four shots of vanilla syrup.’ You snatched your drink back from him. ‘Let me guess - you’re the kind of guy that exclusively drinks espressos and judges people for adding sugar?’

He simply raised his eyebrows, holding his hands up in defense.

Nine hours later, your shift was finally over; you were closing with Poe, who was currently sweeping the floor and singing I Want To Break Free. Your feet were aching but thanks to the free coffee, you were slightly buzzed. You’d decided that you liked your new manager - there were some pitfalls, however. Watching him flirt with every woman that came in was bordering on painful by the time lunchtime came around.

‘Rey’s here!’ Finn popped up from behind the coffee machine. He was supposed to be cleaning it, but it looked as though he was counting coffee beans instead. ‘Do I look okay?’

‘No different than usual, Finny.’ You replied.

Rey was your room-mate and best friend (Finn would argue differently). She worked in a primary school a few streets away from the coffee shop. She usually came in after you’d shut to get a free drink - she also drove to work, which meant you didn’t have to take public transport home. After a nine hour shift and with an impending caffeine crash, being shoved into a small tube carriage was your idea of hell. With that said, Rey’s driving wasn’t much better.

Fiddling with your keys, you unlocked the door to let Rey in. She looked tired - presumably from chasing after little children all day. You could see a bottle of wine sticking out from the top of her bag. That was this evening’s plans solved.

‘Hey!’ She greeted you brightly. ‘Hey, Finn!’

‘Rey, hey!’ Your co-worker waved at her. ‘I mean hey, rey!’

‘I’m just gonna clock out.’ You said, glancing over your shoulder at Poe. ‘If that’s cool with you?’

‘God knows, god knows I want to break - oh yeah, that’s fine!’ He suddenly pulled his headphones out.

‘This is Rey, by the way. She’s an honorary team member here.’ You explained. ‘And this is Poe, our new manager.’

‘She thinks I’m cute.’ Poe grinned.

You turned to face Rey. ‘I’ll explain later.’

‘Right. Of course.’ She gave you a wink. ‘I went home at lunch to feed Chewy. He’s eaten another pair of your shoes.’

Chewie was your six-month-old border terrier puppy. He reeked havoc pretty much everywhere he went - usually leaving a trail of fur behind him - but you loved him dearly. He’d earned his name after eating through eleven pairs of shoes in his first week at your apartment.

‘Of course he has.’ You grumbled. ‘See you tomorrow!’

‘See you!’ Finn waved at you, before giving Rey a sweet smile.

‘See you in the morning!’ Poe called. ‘And be on time!’

tags: @thespareoom @softly-sad @interwebseriesfan24 @yougottakeeponkeepinon @princessxkenobi @blue-space-porgs @cherieboba @highlycommendable

#poe dameron x reader #poe x reader #poe x you #poe dameron x you #poe dameron imagine #poe imagine #star wars x reader #star wars fan fiction #star wars preferences

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mortuarybees · 5 years

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Exclusively For People Made Feral By “You go too fast for me, Crowley.”

The kind of fanfiction I enjoy is the kind which requires me to take a decompression breather every paragraph or so because I’m repressed and tenderness is physically painful. i want there to be yearning and pining and brooding and ultimately, intimacy: fics which embody the mortifying ordeal of being known, as well as the reward of being loved in the end. So here are the fics I’ve read that satisfy this requirement, or in some cases are just extremely tender, in no particular order, with a quote that made me absolutely wild, as well as a few things that aren’t fic

another soul to cling to by strawberry_bee/my best friend @femmeaziraphale

Crowley is born a run of the mill angel. There is only one catch though. He is given a prophecy by God to be the first and only angel to fall in love. That's clearly off the table when he falls from Heaven though, right? // in progress and the only in-progress fic on the list but it is Too Good and also i have a direct line to the author and they will finish it

“Do you promise to stay still if I turn out the lights?” Aziraphale asked.

“The dark is a demon’s favorite place to be,” Crowley joked, feeling the urge to make light of the situation. He rather felt like he was being taken on a jaunty little date, human skulls included just to woo a demon in the right sort of way.

“Quiet, foul fiend,” Aziraphale said, snapping his fingers again. They dove into darkness, and before Crowley could find some sort of clever quip, he felt Aziraphale’s arms about his waist. His brain turned to mush, the only thing he could think of being ‘oh, so this is love’ before he felt Aziraphale’s lips brush gently against the edge of his mouth.

“Thank you, my dear,” Aziraphale murmured, before pulling away. Crowley reached out blindly, coming up with nothing. He turned to the entrance, spotting the outline of Aziraphale as he ascended. Crowley leaned against a wall, hand resting against the forehead of a skull.

get religion quick (cause you’re looking divine) by brinnanza:

So it was fine. Even if Crowley couldn’t love him, he clearly liked him well enough, and that was almost the same thing.

It no doubt would have continued to be fine, or at least fine-adjacent, were it not for a narrowly averted apocalypse and several bottles of a really quite nice Riesling Aziraphale had found in the back room of his newly restored bookshop.

“I love you, do you see? Not for work. I’m - I suppose you could say I’m in love with you, to use a human phrase.”

Crowley went very still. Aziraphale withdrew his hands and folded them primly in his lap, moving back to their more customary distance. “It’s quite alright that you don’t love me,” he hurried to add. “It doesn’t change anything. I just wanted you to know in case... Well, anything could still happen with our superiors, you know? Neither side is probably very pleased with us at the moment.”

Crowley stared at him over the rim of his sunglasses, looking rather stricken, and he was making an odd, creaky sound like a strong wind through a poorly-sealed window. The mostly-empty wine bottle he’d been holding slipped out of his loose grasp and clattered to the floor, wine drops spattering on the hardwood. “Aziraphale,” he said finally, voice ragged, “what the fuck are you talking about.”

a home at the beginning of the world by stereobone (explicit)

"Oh," Aziraphale says. "I think Crowley might have moved in with me." // okayokayokay there’s Meaningful Interior Decorating and a couch metaphor and like the fact that they actually goddamn brought That Quote into it...unacceptable

"My dear boy," Aziraphale says. "You could have said something."

"But we never do that," Crowley says.

He's back to worrying at the fabric of his trousers.

"Besides," he says. "Didn't want to go too fast for you."

Aziraphale feels something swell in his chest, and it feels all encompassing. Like love and heartbreak at the same time. Like being back at the Eastern Gate watching Crowley slither up to him for the first time, question everything while Aziraphale himself was trying not to. He's spent so long, too long, telling himself he could never be ready for this. He reaches out and grabs Crowley's hand, stops him from worrying at his trousers any further.

the nuances of ‘together’ by mirawonderfulstar

Everybody in the whole world can tell Aziraphale and Crowley are a couple. Everyone except, apparently, Crowley.

“Oh, don’t look like that, my dear.” Aziraphale said airily. “I don’t mind sharing.”

“It’s—that’s not the bloody point.” Crowley exclaimed, his feelings from the last week finally coming to a head. “Why do people keep assuming we’re together and why do you keep letting them?”

Aziraphale froze, a forkful of chocolate cake halfway to his mouth. He looked like he’d just been slapped. He was focuing very hard on a spot over Crowley's shoulder and his eyes seemed rather wet. Crowley felt a panic begin to slither up his throat, constricting his breathing. He wanted very much to say something, anything at all to make Aziraphale stop looking like that, but he had no idea what.

a culmination of miracles by prettydizzeed

Crowley has chronic pain, and six thousand years later explains that to Aziraphale. I adore the small intimacy of Aziraphale asking him to print him articles about it so he can better understand, and their characterizations, and it seems so much like an exchange from the book I’ll likely have difficulty remembering it isn’t canon in the future, which I’m fine with.

“I don’t read books,” Crowley corrects. “The occasional article, well, maybe.” He figures he’s going to need to extend as many olive branches as he can find, so he adds, “Some of them help. Sometimes quite a lot, actually.”

“Could you—would you print some for me?” Aziraphale asks. “I’d like to understand better.”

“Yeah,” Crowley says, looking at him as long as he can bear. “I’ll do that.”

the hour/the spot/the look/the words by planethunter

Crowley watches Pride and Prejudice (2005) and it spurs a realisation. // fuck guys it’s literally about the hands and perfectly captures like nothing else does the feeling of watching Pride and Prejudice (2005)

One of his hands rests over the other, the tips of his fingers cold. He watches as Darcy takes Elizabeth's hand, gentle, like handling a bird, their fingers curling over each other's. He mimics the gesture with his own hands, brushing his fingers over one another. Slowly, slowly closing them to a grasp. Opening them again, brushing his knuckles with his thumb. He continues, back, and forward, watching with mild fascination. The sensation relaxes him, like a trance, and he only feels some sensation building inside him when it had risen so high that he had to sigh to release it. Now his hands lie still, holding each other limply. He releases them, letting his fingers brush past each other on the way. When he looks up, the television had cut to adverts.

covet by mirawonderfulstar

pining aziraphale and an amazing confession scene that i absolutely adore.

Aziraphale, little good though it did him, wanted desperately. He wanted with an urgency that scared him. He wanted wine, and cocoa, and the occasional tea. He wanted gravlax with dill sauce, and Pappardelle Bolognese, and those awful little iced biscuits they had at Tesco at Christmastime. He wanted dinners at the Ritz and long walks in the park and late nights in the back room of his shop. He wanted Crowley. Fervently, achingly, he wanted Crowley.

a city wall and a trampoline by kafkian

5 times Crowley knows he’s in love with Aziraphale + 1 time he knows the reverse.

Crowley has a system in place for dealing with moments like these. He developed it sometime in the fifth century, when it became clear that the thoughts and feelings the angel inspired in him weren’t going to go away, and neither was the cast iron certainty that they were largely unreturned. The angel loves him, of course, but only in the slightly absentminded, mandated way he loves all other living things. Crowley has long since made his peace with this. It just stings a bit sometimes, like taking a sip of tea so hot it burns the roof of your mouth. (Not that Crowley himself has had this experience. He has gathered from the mental exclamations of many, many humans, however, that such a mishap brings forth a similar sense of aching hurt, betrayal and a wistfulness that things might be different.)

The best Crowley can do is just let himself feel it – let the love go through him, unnatural and sticky though it may be, always trying to glue itself to the inside of his veins – and wait for it to come out the other side. Sometimes it even works.

such surpassing brightness by handful_of_silence

The revelation that Aziraphale might have been in love with him for thousands of years is surprising. The fact that literal books have been written on the subject comes as even more of a shock.

Crowley had always assumed – perhaps disingenuously – that Aziraphale was like most other angels. Capable of grand expressions of love when it came to humanity, but generally avoidant of the topic personally. A love for all things, a love for Crowley even, but the love of a kind, well-meaning relative who sends birthday cards on the wrong day and with a fiver inside with a note to buy something nice like you're still at primary school. Love but distant, separate, and impersonal.

But now, at least according to the rumours, Aziraphale had spent most of the medieval ages playing wingman to a bunch of queer martyrs and church-folk. Which meant that there must be something there, a comprehension of love beyond his angel-standard, over-arching love for mankind. That Aziraphale could, and apparently did, pick favourites.

That he could, just possibly, feel love himself. On an individual level.

listen (he’s already told you five times) by darcylindbergh

Not everything Crowley says is said out loud. Aziraphale doesn't always hear him at first, but he's learning to stop being surprised. // love!!! languages!!

He wonders what Crowley can feel through this touch. He wonders if Crowley can feel him back.

“I’ve never felt anything like you,” he finally says, looking up to meet Crowley’s eyes. They’re wide, awaiting judgment: something in them is terribly resigned, but when Crowley tries to draw his hand back, Aziraphale doesn’t let him go. Instead he steps in closer and says, at nearly a whisper so as not to startle, “What I mean is, you’re beautiful.”

There is a pause, and then Crowley says, soft with surprise, “Oh.”

Aziraphale kisses him.

tell me all the ways by tinsnip

One little speck of sentiment: was it so much to ask? // crowley struggles to tell Aziraphale how he feels out loud; he finds a way around it. pairs well with the fic above, I think.

“I’m not smitten, angel. I wouldn’t say smitten.”

“Oh?” He’d looked at Crowley’s hand in his, looked back up. “And what would you say?”

Suddenly a change in Crowley’s posture, a tilt of his head; there was the sideways smile. “I’d say I lust after you, angel. I covet you. I idolize you. But... smitten? I mean, honestly.” And Crowley had shrugged, as if that had been that.

For some reason, this morning, that hadn’t been enough.

“And?”

“And... and what?” Crowley had looked a bit desperate.

Aziraphale’s mouth had tasted like tea and toast. “And you love me.”

penance by blissymbolics (explicit)

It’ll happen, Crowley tells himself. This time, it’ll finally happen. // it’s porn with feelings, crowley has a praise kink, just read the tags if you’re interested

Maybe being deprived of his right to come was a necessary component of being a demon. It was permanent, chronic proof of his disobedience. But fuck, God already gave him his snake eyes and revoked his retirement benefits. Messing with his dick was just foul play. It probably violated the Geneva Convention.

Around the turn of the twenty-first century, he began to think that maybe it’d be best to just accept his lot and call it quits. It’s obviously never going to happen. So why keep torturing himself?

Or at least, that’s how he felt before Aziraphale. Before a certain day in the year of our Lord, 2019. Before he felt a shift in the solar system, and knew that they were now spinning together as one gravitational unit. They shared the same space. The same time. And on one occasion, the same bodies.

Also, I wrote a fic: all i need, darling, is a life in your shape

it’s about repressed aziraphale and pining and it was inspired by strawberry blond by mitski.

Not Fics But Fuck, Man

Meta: why is aziraphale so gay? by dictionarywrites on ao3: a very extensive meta exploring how aziraphale canonically presents himself as a gay man, and why exactly he does that.

this crowley space meta and this crowley space meta really fcking did me in

the unadulterated yearning in this mitski-inspired art by @poladraws i think about it at least once a day and it is. A Lot

this from eden fan video on youtube

this two part amnesia post by @thealogie like i don’t even fcking like amnesia fic but like. “this discovery and several other little reactions of yours have led me to believe that the Other Me, that is the Me that has all his memories, has let standards slide and is not doting on you as he should be. are you cared for? do i need to kick my own butt?” oh my goddddd

@mulderswatch made a spotify playlist titled angels dined at the ritz hat makes me personally suffer every single time i hear it. he began it with predatory wasp of the palisades (”touching his back with my hand, i kiss him / i see the wasp on the length of my arm”) and ended it with strawberry blond by mitski (”can you hear the bumblebees swarm? / watching your arm / i love it when you look my way”) his m i n d

The best anon in the world asked me for my mitski a/c song associations and here it is

#this is admittedly 90% reference for me in the future #henry speaks #good omens #crowley #aziraphale #ineffable husbands #fic rec #good omens reference post

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inkribbon796 · 4 years

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The Lost Ones Ch. 1

Chapter 1: Illegal Clones and Legal Crimes

Summary: Anti liked joking around, he likes pulling pranks and bothering Dark now that he’s permanently moved into Egoton. But one day he decides to take the joke too far, and it gets about five times more unfunny. But when it’s all said and done, Dark had to admit . . . he is charming.

A/N: someone requested this little joke about Dark being short and so I threw it in here.

Chapters: 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6

~::~ Twenty Years Ago ~::~

It began as things tended to begin with Anti: jokes.

“Hey, Dark,” Anti had burst into Dark’s main office to bother him, again.

“Leave,” Dark told him, not looking up.

“What’dya get when yah combine you an’ Wilford?” Anti sounded like he was trying to keep himself from cackling madly.

“I don’t care,” Dark told him.

“A hot mess,” Anti joked. Usually when Dark didn’t respond he used about anything to try and get his attention.

“If you need a body disposed of, I’m not helping,” Dark warned.

“Yer just no fun,” Anti sulked.

“I’m busy,” Dark reminded. “It’s bad enough I have to put up with Wilford’s antics, I refuse to humor you as well.”

Anti then attempted to stab Dark and the ensuing fight got rid of some of Anti’s pent up energy. It also got the glitch thinking: what would Dark or Wil’s kid be like?

He imagined Dark’s kid would probably be a lot like Dark was, about ZERO fun, and in about six years when he saw Kay and Illinois for the first time he would learn he was right.

But Wil’s kid: that had to be an interesting kid. Wil was mad fun, a complete and utter lunatic, there was no way he couldn’t pass that down to a kid. And fortunately for Anti, Wil was a prolific nymphomaniac. He had to have some kid, somewhere. There was no way the Wilford that Anti knew hadn’t had sloshed, unprotected sex at least once in his life. Everyone in the crime world knew that while Dark and Wil were Ego’s big couple, Wil slept around.

After a month, Anti gave up looking for the brat, either Dark had tried to clean up Wil’s extra-relationship affairs before they could bear fruit, or the kid had been hidden from Dark.

Another couple of weeks passed and his brain came up with a stupid idea: why not clone the assholes? Cut out the middleman. It was probably their only way someone was even going to get an ankle biter out of Dark in the first place.

But, as it turned out, cloning someone was way harder than Anti thought it would be. He needed people to do the cloning, a safe place for them to work. And after Google joined Dark, Anti had to avoid his prying eye because that walking laptop told Dark everything.

The eggheads he’d threatened found had been excited about the process, but hesitantly optimistic about their chances. But either way they’d need a test and Anti shrugged his shoulders and knew he couldn’t get any of the conventional ways to make a kid from Dark at least without getting his head blown off for even suggesting it.

They needed a test and Wil was the easy option.

“So wait?” Wil was already wasted, the slur in his speech even more pronounced after enough margaritas and martinis to kill a normal man, the two were sitting in a private room at some bar, Anti figured the mad man probably wouldn’t remember this come morning. “You need m’ what?”

“Yer aura,” Anti was admittedly a bit buzzed himself, electricity literally arching off of him in some spots. “I mean the docs will prolly use whate’er but I just wanna see what yer aura does if we pick it apart.”

Will just shrugged, and either he didn’t care or was too drunk to care, but he set his arm on the table and whipped out the stiletto knife he usually hid in the garter on his right thigh and ran it down his arm until he randomly stopped. Wil picked something up and a whirling mass of pink and yellow came off.

The mad man held it out. “Here yah go.”

Anti hesitantly grabbed it, it felt like the consistency of cotton candy, but had almost a soapy, saccharine, bubble gum. And to Anti something about it felt twisted and fake.

But by this point Anti knew Wilford was incapable of keeping secrets when he was this sloshed. Wil had already slipped some pretty spicy secrets about what he and Dark did in the bedroom that had Anti demanding that he wanted literal brain bleach to get out of his mind.

So Anti took it and let Wil try his hand at drunken flirting, leaving to go back to his lab coats to see what they could do with it.

And to everyone’s surprise, the aura was reacting to stuff, almost like it was a living organism or a parasite that lived within Wil’s soul and it was very choosy about what it let them stick onto it. Despite the fact that it just sat there and did nothing.

It looked a bit like a slug after it had stopped moving, a pink and yellow swirling slug.

At this point Anti had honestly forgotten about cloning Dark, the glitch demon wanted to see their auras fighting. He wanted to watch Wil and Dark’s auras tear each other apart.

So it was time to get Dark’s aura, but Anti couldn’t just ask the Entity for it, no! He knew that there was no force on earth or Hell that would get Dark to willingly give Anti his aura for his death matches. So he’d have to take a chunk off by force.

It took a week of stalking Dark before he finally got his chance, and Anti was just about ready to fight Dark himself but as luck and fate would have it, Dark decided to got out hunting.

The Entity was stalking a couple gangsters when Anti decided to make his move. They were a local group Anti liked to pick on from time to time, so they were a tiny bit smarter than some of the other groups that had tried and died taking Dark on as if he was Deceit.

When Dark folded himself out of one of the alley shadows, one of the gangsters froze, watching Dark snap his own neck like the drama queen he was.

“Huh,” the braver of the three gangsters realized. “Yer shorter than me.”

Anti almost blew his cover trying to stifle his own laughter. Dark looked insulted and infuriated. “Excuse you‽”

“Sorry,” the guy was over six feet tall, but not more than half a foot taller than Dark or Anti. “I just figured “the Demon of Egoton” would be more demon-like, an’ bigger.”

Dark seemed to get angrier, and Anti was trying to stop himself from laughing so much that he almost missed his chance.

The Entity’s aura shot out and grabbed onto the gangster, one of his friends tried to shoot Dark but it was stopped by another part of Dark’s aura. It began to ruthlessly tear into the gangster and his friends. “I’m not too short to kill you!”

Anti lunged for Dark, managing to get his claws into Dark’s aura. The demon screamed out, in screeching pain. “I’ll be takin’ some ‘a that.”

“ANTI! I will tear you apart so thoroughly that no force in Hell can piece you back together again!” Dark was furious, the gangster that were lucky enough not to get struck by Dark’s rampaging aura were forgotten.

Anti raced off, running into the Void and trying to keep the writhing mass that was Dark’s aura away from the other demon. It was consciously trying to get back to Dark, or to kill Anti, the glitch demon wasn’t sure which and he didn’t particularly care at the moment. He was just trying to get away from Dark to keep him from taking his aura back.

Eventually Anti did get away, it was more luck that anything else. But when the coast was clear Anti returned to the scientists, covered in his own blackish, glitching, ichor blood and holding out the angry, hissing fragment of Dark’s aura.

“Is that thing hissing?” The lead scientist asked, her curly light brown hair barely tied out of the way. Anti had completely forgotten all their names at this point. He was pretty sure it was Beautiful or Bunny or some weird French name he couldn’t pronounce.

“Yeah,” Anti smiled, “let’s throw this bastard in with Wil’s and see if they kill each other.”

“Is that still alive after you disconnected that from him?” She was staring at it like it was a scientific marvel.

“Well yeah,” Anti gestured as he spoke, “Wilf’s just got a weird aura. Most ‘a our auras are like this caustic fooker’s.”

Quickly the scientist grabbed a container, the same type they put Wil’s in and Anti poked at Dark’s aura with his own, trying to get it especially angry.

“Okay, Bunny let’s get this show on the road,” Anti dusted off his hands.

“It’s Beauregard,” she corrected sharply, fixing her glasses as she held onto the container with one hand.

“Ahh, whatever,” Anti dismissed, smiling. “I wanna see that prick’s aura get shredded.”

Beauregard stopped as they entered another room, Anti moving through the wall. “Hold up, if we put them together are they going to just rip each other apart?”

Anti shrugged, “I mean, Dark’s an angry fooker an’ Wil’s aura is infectious, they gotta do somethin’ cool to each other.”

Beauregard and Anti’s conversation came to a halt when they heard some yelling in the next room. She ran ahead, yelling, “What is going on in here?”

“I don’t know,” one of the technicians looked panicked. He and another technician were trying to keep Wil’s aura in the container it was in, the aura was bubbling and foaming, making a weird noise, Dark’s one aura was letting out that high pitched echo that Dark was infamous for. It cause more than one person to look around wildly for the demon to suddenly appear. It almost seemed like the fragment of Dark’s aura was shaking. The entire container Dark’s aura was in almost fell out of Beauregard’s arms. The result was the two auras seeming to square up against each other as if they were going to fight.

Anti was almost cackling, rubbing his hands together, “Come on Bubbles, fook ‘im up. I got a fiver on yeh.”

Wilford’s aura lunged again and suddenly it was inside the same container as Dark’s. The ringing became more intense.

Beauregard jumped, letting out this surprised scream. Then the ringing stopped when Wilford’s aura just parked itself next to Dark’s and they both calmed down. No one in the room moved, not wanting to set off either of their test subjects. Beauregard watched in awe as Dark’s aura changed from an inky grey to a mix of blue and red, the colors changing between the two but never mixing. It was more blue than red at the moment.

“Oh yeh sappy bastards,” Anti cursed, stomping over. “Come on, I wanted a cage match!”

“I thought we were cloning demons?” Beauregard asked him, most of her attention was on the little aura samples.

“Ehh, I’m already bored, tell me when they actually start doin’ somethin’ interesti’,” Anti dismissed, and then he left.

But when he was fully gone he stuck his head back in, “An’ by that I mean they set themselves on fire or start shootin’ acid.”

“Right, right, of course,” Beauregard agreed, holding up the container and smiling. Even if they failed, she was going to learn some amazing things about auras.

While Beauregard was planning, Anti had already gone back to Brighton to start terrorizing people again.

He was almost immediately found by Dark who demanded the shredded off piece of his aura back, he could grow it back on his own, of course, but didn’t like the idea of Anti having it.

So when Anti couldn’t produce the missing piece of Dark’s aura, the fight resulted in Anti being turned into pixels and Dark walking off with a broken arm and five broken ribs — not that Dark told anyone about the broken bones.

It took him a week to reform. By then he’d actually forgotten he’d gotten a team to do the actual cloning.

After months and months and months, they called him to say they’d “finally gotten a live one” and Anti couldn’t pass up the opportunity to watch Egoton burn.

After all, what could be more destructive than Wilford’s madness with Dark’s power?

#Superhero AU #Masks and Maladies #Egoton Origins #Markiplier #jacksepticeye #Darkstache #Darkiplier #Antisepticeye #Wilford Warfstache #Bim Trimmer #Prof. Beauregard #Anti takes a joke too far #illegal cloning

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joemuggs · 4 years

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DO YOU SUFFER FROM SPYMANIA?

It’s the 25th anniversary of the Spymania label, and to celebrate it they have released a record of unreleased tracks. It’s brilliant, you should buy it. In 2016 I wrote a history of the messy, messed-up, but brilliant Brighton scene that they found their feet in. Sadly it got lost in the archiving of the Red Bull Music Academy site, but I’ve still got the text, so here it is. And to prove I was there, here is me, in an inexplicably bad shirt, with the Spymania crew and friends:

Some Spymanians - far left is Hardy Spymania, next to him in blue t-shirt is Paddington Breaks, third from right leaning forward is MDK and that’s me in the bad shirt on the right.

25th Anniversary EP by SONGBIRD & WAFTA

From the town's 18th century genesis as a playground for aristocrats, Brighton has always been a space for outrageous hedonism. Being the closest point to London on the English south coast makes it an obvious place for escape and misbehaviour. With that has always come something grittier and grottier though. It's no coincidence that the best known fictional depictions of Brighton feature razor-carrying petty gangsters (Brighton Rock) and running street battles and hurried back-alley knee-tremblers (Quadrophenia). The novelist Keith Waterhouse famously said “Brighton always looks like a town helping police with their enquiries” – and it still does. Behind its facade of homeopaths, holidaymakers, students and media folk, it hides rampant corruption and organised crime, a heroin economy to match any British city, and sprawling estates that are among the country's poorest.

In the heat of the 1990s rave fervour when the world and its dog came down to Brighton to party their way through untold seven-day weekends, all of this ambiguity was expressed via a rather different electronic scene. While the superclubs along the seafront pumped to the sounds of handbag house, trance and big beat, hidden away in the nooks and crannies a techno style formed that became known on the European underground simply as “the Brighton sound” – and around it sprouted odd rave and electronica mutations that, though they might have seemed pisstakey or bloody-minded at the time, would alter the course of electronic music for a long time to come. All of this was surrounded by a dense web of art, theory, satire, in-jokes and meat-flinging cabaret, that could be perplexing, even off-putting, but has left a huge creative legacy from a tiny scene that punched way, way above its weight.

This scene of malcontents and squarepegs was by definition loose-knit – but if there was a centre to it, it was Cristian Vogel. Originally from the south Midlands, he and his friend Si Begg already had experience putting out cassette releases and primitive music software hacks (with the Cabbage Head Collective) before he came to Sussex University to study 20th Century Music in 1992. With a head full of Stockhausen and rave tapes, he was boshing out the techno, and by the end of 1994 had two releases on Dave Clarke's Magnetic North label and was resident at the Acid Box club nights in a little sticky-floored upstairs venue in Brighton's North Lanes.

This was the period when techno and hardcore were still part-fused, and along with headliners like Carl Cox and Luke Slater you could expect to hear Belgian hoover noises full-pelt gabber rolled into the more “intelligent” beats, all with nothing but relentless strobes and smoke to intensify the experience. It's a sign of how intense it was that the “chillout” in the backroom consisted of Richie Hawtin tunes playing and Tetsuo: Iron Man being shown on a couple of TVs, and felt genuinely laid back in comparison to the dancefloor. It could be shoulder-to-shoulder packed, or have ten people raving away, but it was pretty much always guaranteed to deliver mental obliteration. It's precisely this delirium you can hear in key early releases like Vogel's “Ninjah” or Tobias Schmidt's “Minus One”.

Si Begg and friends

Cristian, together with Si Begg founded Mosquito Records around this point, around which a motley crew of producers of monstrously banging but sonically razor sharp techno gathered. Neil Landstrumm, Tobias Schmidt (an ingenious pseudonym for one Toby Smith), Ibrahim Alfa and Russ Gabriel, as well as Begg and Vogel themselves, all released in the first couple of years. They were closely allied with the Scottish techno scene, notably through Landstrum but also the Sativae label run by Dave Tarrida and Steve Glenncross, and played to seething crowds north of the border, as well as absolutely huge ones in Germany, Poland and further afield. Yet even though the audiences were tiny back on the south coast, the local brand was inescapable: indeed Si Begg, who lived in London right through the nineties, recalls with some bafflement seeing untold German flyers with “BRIGHTON TECHNO” in big letters under his name.

All of this was great, but taken alone could simply have been another local flavour on the international techno scene. The four-to-the-floor certainly remained the heartbeat of the scene as The Acid Box became The Box, which became Defunkt, which became Freekin' The Frame, and the techno dons kept coming through: Blake Baxter, Shake Shakir, Claude Young, Beltram, Weatherall, Surgeon, Bandulu... but very quickly, things became about more than just that. There was a strongly disruptive element from the beginning in the form of a close alliance with the Brighton “clench” of the Church Of The SubGenius. If you don't know about the Church, that's a whole other rabbit hole to fall down, but for our purposes it's enough to know that the local bunch existed on the fringes of freeparty soundsystem culture and subverted its tendencies to crypto-mystical bollocks, and were big on collage and stencil graffiti, heavy punning streams of consciousness (“Bulldada” in the SubGenius parlance), mischief disguised as culture and vice versa.

Heavily influenced by this SubGenius mischief was Mat Consume, in-house designer, computer animator and frequent back-room DJ for the Vogel-related axis. His art, brain-bent ranting and noisily experimental sets became a vital part of the identity of the scene, helping coalesce obsessions with punk and Situationism and ambivalent embrace of digital progress among Vogel and compadres to the point where when they formed an umbrella organisation for their activities it was natural to call it No Future. Held loosely together by Vogel's partner and manager Emma Sola this acted as a booking agency for various acts, but just as much felt like a chaotic but fiercely independent joint art project between Vogel, Sola and Consume, throwing ideas and aesthetic forms out into the underground and forging alliances with equally bloody-minded creators.

Emma Sola

These included the likes of Canadian filmmaker and stencil artist Pablo Fiasco; animators and sound artists Ruth Jarman and Joe Gerhardt aka Semiconductor; non-techno eclecticist club collectives Mufflewuffle and Slack; the combative cabaret night That Stupid Club which would feature subcultural saboteurs like Stewart Home, Dennis Cooper and The Divine David; and another more rave-influenced cabaret night called Monkey's Lounge full of spoken word, off-colour comedy, offal-flinging and pints-of-piss-drinking, run and compered by... um... me (under the names Rimmington Snuffporn Esq and DJ Dead, with help from my music production and DJ partner Jeffrey Disastronaut). It was at a Monkey's Lounge session that Consume physically pushed Jamie Lidell – already widely known as a wildly innovative techno producer via the Subhead collective and their Growth parties – on stage with the house band Balzac, immediately kickstarting a long running residency as their singer and marking the beginning of a performing career that still continues.

Tom “Squarepusher” Jenkinson and Hardy Spymania

Possibly the most important alliance of all, though, was with the Spymania crew. Their social circle was a motley bunch of Londoners, Midlanders and most notably a large contingent from Chelmsford, Essex. Many of the latter had been to school with Tom Jenkinson, a musician known originally as Stereotype and then, when the Spymania label itself was formed by Paul Fowler and brighton-based Hardy Finn, as Squarepusher. Their ethos was preposterous in all ways, fuelled by unstable fusions of questing intellects and Essex swagger. As teenagers they first congregated around a Chelmsford club night called Club Trout, run by future scene mainstay Jane Mitchell (and later exported to Brighton as Smooth But Halibut); they smoked themselves sarcastic to early tapes made by their friends Cassetteboy; everything they did was shot through with skater-stoner-hardcore-raver pisstake attitude. Their rickety old website, which remains live today, still gives a hint of all this. http://www.spymania.com/pgs/hardcore.html

Yet these were musical connoisseurs too, assiduously collecting hip hop, acid, Detroit techno, British electronica, and especially in the case of Martin “MDK” Wood, death metal, gindcore and anarcho punk. This pile-up of musical expertise and sarky dicking about was there from the first release, Squarepusher's Conumber EP – which featured everything from a track that was nothing more than a timestretched Jenkinson asking “can anyone lend me a fiver” to the jungle-acid fusions that would literally redefine how electronica was made from the Aphex Twin on down for the rest of the 1990s. The Spymania records that followed touched on illbient mismatched time signatures, Drexciyan electro-funk, Deicide samples, eerily blissed out atmospherics, Cassetteboy's peurile genius (via offshoot label Barry's Bootlegs), and a dozen more awkward twists and turns besides, always brain-frying, always funny, never settling on any sound that offered the casual listener an easy handle on what was going on.

A standardly Dada Spymania cover

This added up to a refreshing antidote to the chin-fondling seriousness and purism of much of the electronica scene. And when Finn, Wood and friends went raving at the Acid Box, they naturally found a kindred spirit in Mat Consume who would design almost all the Spymania sleeves, their grainy photocopy style a counterpoint to the garish clashing computer images and animated dancing baby skeletons of his No Future work. They in turn helped inspire Consume, with the urbane Lynton Million (a university friend of Jamie Lidell's), to set up Trash Records.

Trash was a label that would take the horrible and confrontational side of the scene to extremes, with anger and ugliness from label mainstays including DJ Paedofile, Chuck Shite and Shit & Cheap (aka Consume & Landstrumm – sample track name: “SuckingCocksForFishheads”), as well as impossibly intricate turns from the likes of Liddell and another Chelmsfordian Squarepusher contemporary and Rephlex recording artist, Matt Yee-King. Si Begg, too, was close to the Spymania team, and launched the rather more good-natured but equally ridiculous Noodles family of labels, featuring a slew of collaborations and AKAs (including Hardy Spymania's pleasingly literal Barry Pseudonym) from the No Future and Spymania families.

It was a messy and disparate little scene. The bulk of the rave action took place in the big clubs of Germany and the rest of Europe, but the creative processes were at least as much about what happened in smoky shared flats and workshops in Brighton's tatty backstreets as they were about big dancefloors. Vogel once described his metier as “the drug pub rant”, and a lot of work sprung from precisely these. Continually, though, the bulk of Brighton club culture, from the seafront clubs to the free parties on the beaches and Downs, tended to look askance at the belligerence and deliberate obfuscations of the No Future axis, or more often simply ignore it all. Perhaps the glorious cresting of the first wave of activity, and probably this scene's peak visibility in Brighton full stop, was at the Brighton Dance Parade of 1997. This attempt to replicate Berlin's Love Parade was never to be repeated – hippie mismanagement and Brighton's endemic corruption saw to that – but for one day only the ravers had their literal day in the sun.

The Trash crew: top - Consume, Hunter & Million / middle - Million & Consume / bottom - Cristian Vogel & Million

There, among floats pumping out free party trance and funky house, the No Future bus – stencilled all over by Pablo Fiasco with pictures of dead rock stars, and with a stunningly crsip rig playing weaponised techno whose angles and curves were a thousand times sharper and more present than any other music on the day – stood out like a septic thumb. This was also the year that Vogel's musical partnership with Lidell began in earnest – with Lidell's furious remix of Vogel's “(Don't) Take More”, which remains a brain-damage anthem to this day in some quarters, and their first release as the mutant electronic funk duo Super_Collider, “Darn (Cold Way O Loving)”. The latter track, amazingly, emerged on a major label, thanks to it being signed by Skint parent label Loaded, in turn licensed through Sony. It was a year to wave the freak flag high.

Despite untold hard drugs, fights and the incestuous nature of a town as small as Brighton, the scene and the various record labels involved remained vigorous and continued to diversify right through the last years of the nineties and into the new millennium. Super_Collider released one album on Loaded, and another on Rise Robots Rise, the label created by Vogel and Sola for ever more varied output including Catalan girl-punk and German dancehall. Lidell's ultra-experimental first solo album, Muddlin Gear, came out as a joint venture between Spymania and WARP in 2000, accompanied by deranged artwork and live films by Pablo Fiasco. Bands increasingly became part of the mix: whispering neo-Krautrockers Fujiya & Miyagi (on Paul Spymania's Massive Advance imprint), the terrifying Wevie Stonder (who he managed) and space-pop group Chungking (which I was in for a couple of years, and whose multi-instrumentalist James Stephenson played bass for Super_Collider live, creating a Chelmsford rhythm section with Matt Yee-King on drums - both of these two had also been in the aforementioned Balzac too).

No Future’s logo, designed with typical aggression by Consume

There were prominent fans too. John Peel asked the Trash collective to open Meltdown Festival in 1998. Thom Yorke and Radiohead's resident artist Stanley Donwood designed t-shirts for No Future. Vogel is namechecked on the Sabres Of Paradise Haunted Dancehall album, and Andrew Weatherall would frequently call him up, dumbfounded at his latest sonic advances. One memorable 1999 awayday for the Freekin' The Frame club to The End in London saw Róisín Murphy jumping on stage after the live Super_Collider show to duet with Lidell on an impromptu version of “Once in a Lifetime”, a very young Kieran Hebden repping UK garage, Chicks On Speed shouting their hearts out, and Chris Cunningham playing long segments of white noise to puzzled ravers, as well as sets from various No Future / Spymania stalwarts.

Inevitably, like all but the very biggest musical scenes, the micro-one in Brighton dissipated as people grew up, fucked up, or moved on – but its echoes continue. Vogel and Landstrumm continue to be significant forces in electronic music, both as influences on the post-Blawan generation and as musicians in their own right. Si Begg is a respected sound designer and composer. Matt Yee-King runs the computer music course at Goldsmiths college, and is a big noise on the “Algorave” scene. Paul Spymania is an artist manager and agent, and along with Scuba, brought dubstep to Berlin in the legendary Sub:Stance sessions. Semiconductor became artists in residence for NASA, among many other extraordinary commissions. Jamie Lidell supported Elton John. Consume is in Bristol, currently working on a giant mural of DJ Derek. Lynton Million lives on a small island, selling whisky. Ibrahim Alfa took several sharp diversions that are an epic tale in their own right, and is only now picking up where he left off with a Workshop issue of his “lost” album Once Upon a Time in Brighton. And so it goes on...

Unlike some electronic scenes, the one in Brighton was never particularly chic (although it certainly had massive cultural cachet in a few countries if not at home), and its records don't necessarily fetch silly money on discogs (like that's a measure of value, right?). But out of a tiny techno club and its committed few regulars grew something that filled an entire decade with utterly extraordinary art, music, humour and ideas, and which still has relevance and resonance for smart creative minds many years on. Those messy, aggro, awkward bunch of ravers and jokers somehow managed to hold it together just enough to build a creative world entirely of their own, with its own rules and its own distinctive identity: what more can artists hope for?

This history is dedicated to James Phillips, a vital part of this scene and always 100% one of the good guys. RIP

Some tunes:

Cristian Vogel: Ninjah https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2ydOFHo9JtI

Tobias Schmidt: Minus One https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=5YjozNVF7_I

MDK: Sound of Saturday https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=FV3KQHGxmcg

Subhead: Ruction (produced by Jamie Lidell) https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=b5vNX_ylRQM

Squarepusher: Sarcacid https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_IY6cvGnVCA

Cristian Vogel: Bite & Scratch (Blake Baxter Detroit Mix) https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=PXIB7I3D7ss

DJ Paedofile: I was Rise in Clouds https://youtu.be/WcyrrAwqaQY

Buckfunk 3000 (Si Begg): Future Shock Planet Rock https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=lp4b6PE0FkY

Cristian Vogel: Sarcastically Tempered Powers http://youtu.be/Q2G3204pfkY

Yee King: Goodnight Toby https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=mbnZuv3xHog

Super_Collider: Darn https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=dh2kauFcGpw

No Future at Brighton Love Parade: https://vimeo.com/119001501

#brighton #rave #techno #electronica #drill'n'bass #spymania #wonky techno #experimental music #subgenius #maniacs #too much marijuana #white lightning

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always5hineee · 4 years

Text

Hell and Back- Chapter 6: Good Samaritan (Trials 8-9)

Chapter warnings: Mild language

Word count: 1868

-----

"Let me go next!" Kris demanded excitedly. Looking down, both Y/N and Suho seemed concern. The latter was the first to ask what was going on.

"Why are you so eager?" He asked suspiciously. "Shouldn't you be worried about what the trial is? They're getting worse, after all. Not only that, but we don't even know who the limited power is yet."

"Because! Vandalism and shoplifting? You guys are stealing all the fun ones! We have an excuse to be crazy, I'm sure as hell taking it. Y/N! Who's the limited power?" Glancing down, she searched for it.

"I, uh... Xiumin." Frost powers.

"See? No reason not to let me!" Sighing, Suho held his hand out in defeat.

"If you guys are okay with it, I don't see why not." He conceded. Looking through the list, she selected and pressed Kris' name, waiting for the challenge to load up. After a moment of silence, everyone broke out into laughter. Kris, confused, tried to look over everyone's shoulders to see the trial.

"What's so funny?" Getting frustrated, he pulled out his own phone, opening the app and clicking in to read the trial's description.

Trial 8: Charity

Find someone in need and make their life better out of your own generosity.

Limited power: Xiumin

Drop-out Fee: $200

"You're kidding." He muttered, eyes wide in some form of annoyance or disbelief.

"Hey, you're the one that wanted to go next." Lay snickered, causing him to turn around threateningly. He, of course, wasn't as scary as he thought he was, not to mention that nothing could get the group to stop making fun of him.

"Man, it's not that hard, just give some homeless man a fiver or something." Sehun consoled him.

"This is so dumb. Why am I the only one that didn't get a cool challenge?"

"Property damage isn't cool-" Chen tried to tell him. "If anything, you're not in any danger, you should be grateful."

"ʸᵒᵘ ˢʰᵒᵘˡᵈ ᵇᵉ ᵍʳᵃᵗᵉᶠᵘˡ" He mimicked, still annoyed as Chanyeol pointed out the windshield.

"Just get off at the next exit, there are always homeless people lurking around. I wouldn't be surprised if there were a few on the corner." Unfortunately, there were none directly on the corner, but about fifteen seconds down the road, there was a clearly disheveled man traversing down the sidewalk. Pulling up rather aggressively, Kris through a few dollars out of his still-rolling window, saying rather loudly,

"Here." Before continuing onward with his foot pressed on the gas. "There, I did it. What's the next challenge?" Looking down, Y/N noted a new message.

"Uh, you didn't complete the challenge."

"What do you mean?" He demanded, practically fuming at this point. "I literally did what the dumbass thing wanted. What the fuck else can I do?!" Suho put up a hand to warn against his language, but no one paid any mind.

"It put up an extra line of dialogue that says, That wasn't very nice." She read to him as he was driving. Foot still pressed onto the gas pedal and hands tightened in anger around the steering wheel, everyone started looking for parts of the car to hold onto in fear.

"Calm down, man! It's just one-" Luhan tried to start, but Kris cut him off.

"Shut the fuck up." Driving until he saw another group of homeless or at the very least destitute, he rolled to a complete stop, grinning with one of the scariest smiles Y/N had ever seen. As they looked upon him with both wariness and curiosity, he held out another small amount of money. Walking up to grab it, they thanked him as he grit his teeth.

"Have a good day." As he pulled away with forceful slowness, rolling up his window, he looked back over with flames in his gaze. "Was that fucking better?" Looking down again, Y/N sighed with relief.

"Yeah. Trial completed."

"Who's the next power limit?" Baekhyun asked, leaning over as his elbow slipped onto Y/N's shoulder. She didn't know why they were all relying on her to look, they all had the app. Breathing out, she searched.

"It's Chen, so no lightning powers again. Who wants to go?"

"Are you sure you don't want to take your second turn, Kris?" Kai laughed, poking him in the shoulder.

"If you think it's so funny, do it yourself." The man grumbled.

"Maybe I will." Kai retorted, reaching over to Y/N's phone and tapping his own name before she could stop him.

"Kai-!" She reprimanded as they watched the new trial appear.

"Oh, calm down, it'll be fine," He started, looking at his own phone. "Trial 9: Item of value. Dig through a dumpster for an item of at least a $20 dollar value. If nothing can be found, move to another and attempt until the trial is complete. Limited power, Chen, drop-out fee, $250."

"That's not so bad." Sehun noted.

"No, but it's disgusting." He returned, nose already scrunching up at the thought. "I don't want to dig through a dumpster."

"Do you think it would count if we just went to a landfill?" Y/N suggested. "At least then there'd be a couch or something, that would have to be a $20 dollar item."

"It's worth a shot." Suho agreed. "It's better than getting all caught up in rotten food or old diapers."

"Now why would you say that?" Kai shook his head. Kris typed in the nearest landfill to his GPS, which was still a whopping twenty minutes away. As they drove, they were beginning to realize just how tired they were. It seemed they were all in agreement to take a break for the night after this trial. When they arrived at the landfill, it was closed, but the gate had no lock. Who would want to steal trash, after all? Luhan, still in the car, slid it open, allowing the car to pass through, pulling up.

Kai exited the car, wading through the piles of trash for a few feet, disgust evident on his features. As Y/N had suggested, there was plenty of furniture lying around. He began placing his hand on each piece, looking back up to the car. As soon as his fingers grazed a metal bed frame, the trial bar lit up in acceptance. Giving him a thumbs up, he started walking back to the car.

"Oh, so he gets off on a technicality, but I don't?" Kris complained.

"They just hate you." Sehun agreed.

"I wonder why-" Lay commented, causing the duo to bust out in laughter as Kris glared. Kai re-entered the car, sitting down and breathing out.

"So, we go back to the studio and go back home?" Suho suggested, earning nods from everyone. When they arrived, they all said their brief goodbyes, agreeing to meet at nine the next morning. Many wanted to meet earlier, but both Xiumin and Sehun were strongly against it. They made it clear that nine was a gift for everyone else. Beginning to walk away, though, Y/N saw her screen light up red. Everyone else's seemed to be doing the same. Reading the white text sprawled out on the garish screen. STAY TOGETHER

"You've got to be kidding." Baekhyun muttered, already yawning in fatigue.

"So what, we just sleep here?" Kyungsoo suggested, earning groans from everyone. It wasn't like they hadn't done it before, but everyone wanted a bed. Sleeping on the floor just didn't seem appealing after all the new things they'd been forced to process that day.

"Hotel?" Chanyeol offered.

"As if they'd let us have thirteen people in the same hotel room. It's also kind of expensive." Suho shot down the idea.

"I guess we can just go to our dorm rooms." Kai grumbled. "Our's is the biggest anyway, some of the boys can just share beds." Unable to come up with a better idea, they all agreed, making their way to Kai's dormitory. thankfully, no one was around to witness the large parade of people piling into the same building. Kai, Sehun, Kyungsoo, and Chanyeol all lived in the dorms, so they agreed to share their beds.

Kris volunteered to sleep on the floor out of a need for space, and Tao volunteered to do the same out of generosity. Seuhun shared with Xiumin and Baekhyun, as they were both smaller and could manage to pack in. It would be awkward, but better than the floor. Kyungsoo agreed to share with Chen and Lay, Chanyeol shared with Suho and Luhan, which only left Kai and Y/N.

"You can just take the bed. I can sleep on the floor." He muttered under his breath as everyone began to get ready. The only reason they had left Kai was because, although not the tallest, he was generally considered to take up the most space. She shook her head awkwardly,

"No, you're fine, you can have it, I don't mind."

"I'm not gonna make a girl sleep on the floor." He said incredulously. "I'm dumb sometimes, but not that dumb."

"It's fine, we can just share, it's not a big deal." She said. "I want to go shower, though." She was silently hoping he'd be asleep before she returned- that all of them would be asleep so that she could go with her original plan and stay on the ground. She really didn't mind, she didn't want to make things weird.

Her shower was considerably longer than was necessary, but she used the alone time to think. Things were getting worse, but not considerably so. The trials were honestly more tedious than they were threatening. Having her group of friends with her was heartening as well. She still had the issue of figuring out how to tell them that her wish had already been input, but... there was no reason to do that now. She could at least wait and see if the drop-out fee changed. Maybe it would go up and down based on how bad the trial was? While that hadn't proven to be the case thus far, she could at least hope.

Putting a towel on her head and drying herself off, she put on her clothes, causing them to be slightly damp. While uncomfortable, she wasn't about to walk into a room full of her male friends undressed. As much as she liked them, they were basically all animals. Thankfully, when she had returned, the room was dark and littered with scattered breaths. As far as she could tell, everyone was asleep.

Making her way to Kai's bed, she looked down at his frame, chest softly rising and falling. Her original intention had been to sleep on the floor, but... now her bones were aching and her head was pounding. It would be really nice to stay there. He had already said he didn't mind, plus, he was sleeping. What harm could it do? Conceding to her own pressures, she tried to silently slip under the blanked, facing so that they were both positioned in the same direction, her back to his side. She would rest now, then see what the morning held.

Go to Chapter 7

#exo #exo x reader #exo fanfiction #exo fanfic #kris #luhan #tao #chen #chanyeol #kai #suho #sehun #lay #baekhyun #kyungsoo #xiumin #kpop #Kpop x reader #x reader #Kpop fanfiction #Kpop fanfic #trials

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chain-unchained · 5 years

Text

October 3

The sound of a gong rang out over the din of the Fair, as Alex smashed the strength tester yet again; with a grin, he held out his hand to the game operator, who forked over his winnings for ringing the bell. To his dismay, Haley—who he thought had been watching—had long since lost interest and was currently over at the fishing tent with Pam. His disappointment was all but forgotten as Gus walked by, carrying a platter of burger patties waiting to be cooked up for, of course, the all you can eat buffet.

Yes, it was that most wonderful time of year again: the Stardew Valley Fair. Countless visitors from far and wide traveled to Pelican Town, which seemingly overnight had transformed into a grand county fairgrounds. Game booths were set up throughout the town center, offering star tokens as prizes for winning, while a little kiddie coaster had been put up smack dab in the center. Up to the north was the buffet, where Gus was now grilling away not just burgers, but hot dogs, barbeque chicken and ribs as well, filling the air with a mouthwatering smell.

“Thank you, Mr. Gus~” Jas was all smiles as she accepted the bag of fresh spun cotton candy from Gus, wasting no time in tearing a piece off and popping it into her mouth. “Thank you Shane~” She added, as her godfather slipped Gus a fiver for giving Jas some extra.

“You’re welcome, squirt.” Shane ruffled her hair with a grin; he had been worried that the lure of the alcohol on offer would be too much for him to ignore, but it wasn’t so hard since he was focusing on Jas. “So, what do you think? Is this year’s fair better than last year’s?”

“Hmm…” Jas gave the question serious contemplation, tearing off another chunk of spun sugar while she mulled it over in her head. “… Yeah, it’s better.” She answered with a sage nod of her head. “I wish that there were other rides besides that dumb kiddie coaster, though.”

“Whaaaat? You love that coaster, though.”

“Not anymore. It’s for little kids, and I’m not a little kid anymore.” Jas paused, still looking thoughtful as she ate another clump of cotton candy. “… Vincent still likes it though. He’s too scared to ride by himself, so I guess I’d be okay with riding it to make him happy.”

Trying not to laugh at how obvious it was that she still enjoyed the ride, Shane ruffled her hair with a grin. “That’s pretty big of you. Might as well enjoy it while you can still fit in the cars.” He checked his wristwatch and saw that it was already nearing noon. “Well kiddo, I better go and switch places with Marnie so she can work on her grange display. You got enough pocket change to get what you wanna get?”

Jas held up the small purple purse hanging at her side with an affirmative nod of her head. She had been saving and saving all year just for this fair, so she was quite set for the day. Still, that didn’t stop Shane from digging into his wallet and handing her another fiver for good measure.

“You remember the rules, right?” He asked, kneeling down to her level with no small amount of effort. Pelican Town was safe pretty much every day of the year, but the influx of visitors meant that the Fair was perhaps the most dangerous—everyone could still remember the disaster that was known as the ‘Jockstrap Incident’, loathe though they were to recall it.

“Yes, I remember.” There was more than a slight hint of exasperation in Jas’ voice. If there was one thing in the world she didn’t care for, it was being treated like a little kid. “Hurry up and go help Aunt Marnie alreadyyyy.”

She moved behind her godfather and gave him a good push towards the petting zoo to really get her point across, drawing a half-laugh from Shane as he followed the momentum granted to him. For some reason, he got the impression that Jas didn’t want to be babysat very much. ‘Damn, do kids grow up fast these days.’ He thought with a grin, winding his way through the somewhat oblivious crowds to relieve Marnie of her duties at the petting zoo.

With hands that trembled from the sheer amount of nervous energy flowing through them, Ashe painstakingly placed his selections for his grange display into the bin, silently fretting to himself as to their layout and orientation; to his right, Marnie too was hard at work making her ranch display look its best, with a massive and admittedly impressive cheese wheel as the centerpiece. To her right was Willy, who was piling high the freshest of fresh fish caught at dawn that morning, and to Ashe’s left was Percy, surrounded by an air of confidence while his own was put together. There were other grange displays, too, being set up by various visitors from throughout the valley—all of whom had similarly intimidating offerings.

Up until last night, Ashe had nothing but the utmost confidence in himself; he had been toiling endlessly ever since he’d learned about the competition, secure in his belief that he was going to win. Yet now that he was surrounded by his competition, beholding their entries with his own eyes, that confidence was evaporating faster than ice beneath the blistering summer sun. Compared to Marnie’s animal product focused display, and to Percy’s all encompassing one featuring the very best finds from the mines alongside pristine farm and ranch products, Ashe’s crops, eggs, milk and gems looked like amateur hour.

‘Maybe I tried to do too much…’He found himself thinking, anxiously fussing with the arrangement in the faint hopes that somehow changing the layout would make it seem more impressive. Would he have done better if he’d narrowed his focus to just one or two areas?

He was so caught up in fretting over his chances that he didn’t notice Marnie had finished preparing her display and was now taking a good gander at his. For a first timer, she thought he had done a fantastic job. “Looking pretty good there, kiddo.” She spoke up, making him nearly jump out of his skin from fright. “Nerves getting to you?”

“M-Maybe just a little.” Pressing his hand against his chest, Ashe took a deep breath to calm himself; hearing her voice helped to bring him back down to Earth for the moment. “Thank you. But I’m pretty sure that cheese wheel of yours is going to win.”

They both took a moment to gaze upon the magnificent artisanal creation taking up most of Marnie’s display, and Marnie couldn’t help but grin at the sight of it. “I’m pretty proud of it, if I do say so myself. Those eggs you brought are sure gonna give me and everyone else a run for our money, though.” She gave the young farmer a reassuring smile. Though it had been close to ten years since her first entry into the fair, she could still recall that almost strangling fear that she had felt, and she felt more than a little pity for the kid. A little confidence boost went a long way in situations like that.

Truth be told, he didn’t really believe what she said, but he didn’t want to let it show just how much he was doubting himself at this point. So he pushed a smile onto his face. “Haha, you really think so? If anything, it’s thanks to you and Shane. Honestly…” The smile began to slip away; perhaps because of his anxiety, perhaps it was something else, but… it felt like there was an icy cold tendril winding its way around his heart. “I owe a lot to you guys. All of you. I want to be able to say that I could have made it this far on my own. But that’d be a lie.”

Turning away from Marnie, whose expression had fallen a little at the oddly somber, melancholic words coming from him, he looked to the display that seemed so paltry to him now. Even still, he relied so much on others—to farm, to learn, to just exist. How long… how long would he have to depend on them? When would he be strong enough to stand on his own two feet? “…. I really do owe everything to you, and Shane, and Jas.” He murmured, turning to look at Marnie with another smile. “Thank you for putting up with me for all this time~”

“Kiddo…” Marnie didn’t like the feeling that she got as she listened to him speak. It reminded her far, far too much of the way Shane used to be, the same sort of language, the same undertones of loathing, anxiety, doubt, hopelessness. “C’mon now, you should know by now that there’s nothing to put up with. You’ve been an angel of a neighbor to us. Heck, you’ve been a literal angel for Shane.” She wrapped her arm around Ashe’s shoulders and gave him a friendly squeeze. “Besides, you’re what? 19 years old? You can’t just expect yourself to have everything figured out right out of the gate.”

The sensation of being drawn close brought a measure of comfort to Ashe. Closing his eyes, he allowed himself to stop and breathe; the scent of lavender and lilac filled his nostrils, and suddenly he found himself in a clinical white room, heard the beeping of machines, felt his mother’s cold hand in his own as the scent of her perfume overwhelmed him. It was only for the briefest of moments, with the sound of the gong going off as Alex smashed the strength tester again pulling him back into the present. But that moment, to him, felt like an eternity…

“Ashe?” Marnie snapped her fingers in front of his face, more than a little concerned with the way the color had drained from his face; she practically felt him come back to reality, his entire body giving a shudder. “Are you alright? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

Seeing how concerned she was, Ashe really tried to pull himself together. “I…. Y-Yeah, I’m alright.” He assured with the best, most sincere smile he could muster. He didn’t want to worry her. “Honestly.”

“You sure don’t look alright.” Wholly unconvinced, Marnie gave his shoulders another squeeze. “… Why don’t you go and talk a walk, get away from the crowds for a bit? The competition’s not gonna start for awhile yet.”

“That’s….” Ashe’s voice trailed off; after a few moments’ contemplation, he nodded. “You know what, I think I will actually.” He glanced longingly over to the petting zoo; what he really wanted to do was go over there and play with the cute animals on display, but there were so many people and children crowded around it that there was just no way it was going to happen. Especially not when he was a mess like this.

Marnie smiled and patted him on the shoulder as he headed off down towards the beach. It had been half a year since Ashe moved to the valley, and she had never seen him like that before. As much as she wanted him to open up to her and be able to let out whatever it was he was bottling up, she knew it wouldn’t happen. The only person that he would do that with was Shane. Deciding that this was more important than her display, she squeezed her way in and around the oblivious tourists piling into the town square, gradually making her way to the petting zoo while marvelling at how rude people were these days.

“Hey hey—HEY! The animals have to stay in the pen!” Shane’s voice cut sharply over the din of the crowds as he pried a poor little lamb from the hands of a kid who thought they were free to take. “This isn’t an adoption pen.” Yoba, he didn’t know if this was better or worse than his time working Black Friday back when he was a floor associate at Macy’s in college… At least there wasn’t a Karen demanding to see his manager for daring to tell her little darling to keep his hands off the merchandise.

…Maybe things weren’t so bad, though. Aside from the kid with the sticky fingers, most of the folks were just enjoying the petting zoo, lavishing affections on the baby farm animals. Shane was never fond of children, if he was honest. He didn’t know how to handle them, and deep down there was a part of him that was afraid of somehow breaking them. It was only when Jas came along that he finally got why people had children—to marvel in their achievements, to laugh at the silly things they said, to watch as they learned about the world around them and grew up… So, yeah, maybe he didn’t completely hate kids like he used to anymore. Still wasn’t super keen on them, though.

A finger lightly tapped him on the shoulder, making him realize he’d been completely lost in his thoughts for the past few minutes; turning around, he relaxed a little when he saw Marnie standing behind him. “That didn’t take long. Got the display set up how you want it?”

“Yes, the display’s all set to go.” There was something in Marnie’s tone that worried him. “Ashe could really use your company right now, I think.”

“Did something happen?”

“I have no idea. To be honest….” She sighed and closed her eyes for a moment before opening them to look back up at her nephew. “Well, to be honest I think you should get your butt down to the beach and talk to him.”

“Yeah, yeah I’m going.” Shane stepped around her briskly, practically pushing his way through the crowds in his haste towards the south. He had no idea what was going on, but that wasn’t going to stop him from finding out.

The roar and din of the fair quieted to a low hum, nearly drowned out by the ocean waves as they gently lapped against the shore and the cries of the seagulls who soared overhead. It was calm, and peaceful; despite the cold air blowing in off of the ocean, Ashe stood silently at the water’s edge, gazing out at the endless blue. Lost in a world of his own.

He didn’t hear the sound of footsteps behind him. It was only when Shane came to stand beside him that he came back down to earth. “Shane…?” He asked, his voice soft enough to nearly be drowned out by the waves.

“I’m right here, bud.” Shane tucked his hands into his pockets as he briefly glanced to him. “What’s on your mind?”

For a long minute, Ashe didn’t say a word. “I don’t know.” He simply admitted. “I just… I don’t know. When I was setting up my display, and I saw what everyone else had brought, I…. guess I realized that I’m not some wonder farmer who’s gonna sweep the competition. I talked so much bullshit to Percy about beating him, but everything he put out there looks better than anything I could hope to produce. And not just him. The stuff that Marnie had from your guys’ ranch looked so high quality. Everything on display from everyone looked wonderful.”

There was a long pause. “… What have I been doing all this time?” He whispered. “If I can’t win a stupid competition, what hope do I have to save Grandpa’s farm?”

“Bugaboo.” Shane reached out and took hold of his hand. “It’s just a fair competition. This isn’t some be all end all judgement of your farming skills.”

He knew what Ashe was feeling. Back before they met, that was how he used to drive himself into the ground with anxiety—the constant questioning of his worth, wondering why he was even trying, comparing himself to everyone else around him. He got that feeling. “You’re still a kid. Sure, you don’t act like it most of the time—hell, sometimes I forget that you can’t even rent a car yet—but you’re still young. Everyone overestimates themselves when they’re young. That’s just a part of growing up. You fall, you pick yourself back up, and you move on. Well, you’re supposed to anyway. You and I both know it’s not so easy… you get what I’m trying to say though, right?”

“… Not really.”

“Yeah, I don’t know what I’m trying to say either.” Shane sighed as he ran his fingers through his hair. “… Whatever the outcome of the fair is, there’s always next year. And I know for a fact that next year you’ll crush the competition no matter what.” He looked to Ashe and gave his hand a squeeze. “And besides, they haven’t even judged the displays yet. You’ve still got a shot.”

Ashe managed to smile. “Shane, you haven’t even seen my display. I really don’t think I’m going to win.” He took a breath and looked back out to the ocean stretched out before them. “… But you’re right. It’s just a competition. I went and talked myself into a panic over something that doesn’t even matter again. But at least I know how much farther I have to go to save the farm.”

“Uh huh.” Shane shifted closer and loosely wrapped his arm around Ashe’s waist. “And what about how far you’ve come? I ain’t gonna let you just overlook all that work you’ve put in so far. You have every right to be damn proud of that farm.”

“Hehe… it does look pretty good these days, doesn’t it?”

“Better than what I could do.” Shane gave him a gentle squeeze. “You gonna be okay?”

“Yeah… Can we stay here for a little longer? I don’t feel like dealing with the crowds right now.”

He didn’t need to ask. Shane didn’t mind staying at the beach for the time being. They couldn’t stay for much longer, though; the bite of the chilly wind soon drove them back towards the town center, back towards the throngs of people and the noise they brought with them. The crowds had migrated towards the buffet area by then, drawn in by a pie eating competition with a nice fat 5k G first place prize. Thanks to that, the petting zoo was far less crowded; Ashe was able to finally get all those anxieties out by petting the baby animals like he’d wanted to.

Before long, Lewis announced over megaphone that the grange competition judgements had been made, asking all the contestants to return to their displays so the awards could be handed out. The butterflies made a comeback in Ashe’s stomach at the announcement, but they weren’t as bad this time around.

It came as both a surprise and a letdown when Lewis called his name for third place. There was still a part of him that had been hoping for first place, even though he knew it wasn’t going to happen. And there was a part of him that didn’t think he’d even place at all, so he couldn’t help the tiny bit of pride as Lewis handed him the third place ribbon and congratulated him.

Second place rightfully belonged to Marnie and her awe-inspiring cheese wheel, and she graciously accepted the silver ribbon placed into her hands by the mayor. And no surprise to anyone present, the gold first place ribbon was awarded to Percy, who had never doubted that he come out victorious in the end.

“Well, at least he’s not rubbing it in your face.” Sebastian commented, having made his way over to Ashe with Sam and Abigail as the competition wound down and the displays were being packed up. “Easy to be gracious when you’re the winner, though.”

“Hey, third place is still pretty good though!” Abigail elbowed Ashe with a reassuring grin.

“Yeah, especially considering how long you’ve been doing this whole farming thing.” Sam draped his arm around Ashe’s shoulders and gave him a grin of his own. All three of them had seen their friend disappear onto the beach earlier; they could tell that he was stressing out and wanted to support him the best they could.

To their surprise, Ashe nodded with a smile, turning the bronze ribbon over and over in his hands. “Yup. Percy earned the win, and Marnie deserved second place, so I’m happy with third.” Seeing the way they were all trying to lift his spirits up, he realized how much he must have worried the people that cared about him. He didn’t like knowing that he’d done that to them, but at the same time, he couldn’t help but feel just a little bit happy that they cared so much. “Congratulations on second, Marnie!” He called, as Marnie pulled the cart carrying her entered goods off.

“Hey, how much for that cheese wheel?!” Sam inquired enthusiastically; he loved cheese more than was healthy, and there was something novel about the thought of owning a cheese wheel that weighed more than his kid brother.

Marnie laughed and stopped to look at the teens. “Not for sale, kiddo!” She rebuked with a grin of her own. “She’s going into the cellar to age for a few years. You’ll have to wait, I’m afraid.”

“What would you even do with a cheese wheel that big?” Sebastian asked his friend as the portly woman resumed walking.

“Brag about it, duh!”

Ashe fell quiet as he and Seb and Abigail all began to debate the ethics of owning that much solid cheese. After several minutes, he slipped away from his display, walking slowly over to where Percy was packing up his. “Congratulations on winning, Percy.” He praised with a slightly forced smile, making the posh farmer pause and look to him in genuine surprise. “You knocked the competition out of the park.”

“… Well, thank you.” It took Percy a few moments to regain his composure. He certainly hadn’t been expecting his rival of all people to come and congratulate him. “I have to admit, yours was quite impressive as well. Not that there was ever any doubt that I’d win,” he resumed packing up his display, “but I wasn’t expecting you to pull something that refined together.”

It was Ashe’s turn to be surprised. He… was talking to the same Percy that lived next door to him, right? Because it didn’t seem like it right now. “… Thank you. Next year, I’m going to win for sure.”

He expected Percy to point out how he’d made that claim this year; to his surprise, Percy just chuckled and smirked to him. “I expect you to give me a run for my money. Victory tastes much sweeter when you’ve worked to earn it.”

It had to be something in the water. Ever since he’d come to this backwater place, Percy had changed. Seeing these hicks and hillbillies live their lives, work and toil for the little they had and be happy for it, really had gotten him to thinking. Not that he’d ever say anything to them, of course; after all, he was there on a job of his own, and in the end, he had to emerge victorious just like he had today. But damn if he didn’t feel a little bad about what was going to happen when he won…

#sdv #stardew valley #stardew #sdv fanfic #stardew valley fanfic #stardew fanfic #sdv shane #sdv farmer #stardew valley shane #stardew valley farmer

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whydoesfireburn · 5 years

Text

Chapter Fiver: Things We Lost In The Fire

Can’t spell sorry. Here’s the story. Hope you enjoy.

What the fuck have you done!?!?, Shoto’s brain screamed. How did that word transaction even happen?! Shoto could feel his face heat up and turn red. How did he come back from this?

“What?” Midoryia said, looking up at him in confusion. In the back of the room, Shoto could see that both Yoarashi and Yaomomo were face-palming. Everyone in the class was not looking at them.

“That’s not what I meant to say,” Shoto whispered a hand slowly cover his eyes in embarrassment.

Before anyone could say anything, Bakugou then grabbed Shoto by the front of his shirt. Oh, thank gods! It was literally anything else!

“What the fuck, Ice princess?!” the blond yelled. Shoto frowned at that. Shiki had called him that name ever since they were children; it was childish and sweet when she did it, but from someone else in almost made him mad. Almost. It made him think back to middle school again when he was forced to be around-

“If there is anyone you should be focusing on beating, it should be me. And I’m gonna kick both yours and Baldy’s asses into next week.”

“Please don’t call me bald,” Yoararshi said.

“Shut up!”

“Alright, alright,” Kirishima said with a nervous smile on his face, “Let’s everyone calm down. There is no need to fight right now.”

“Don’t tell me what to do,” Bakugou snapped. Thankfully it was time for them to leave, and Shoto couldn’t be more grateful.

“So, what were you trying to say?” Yoarashi asked, smirking as they walked out.

“Don’t,” Shoto warned, not wanting to talk about it.

Everything from before was fading. Now it was time for him to focus. He had something he needed to prove.

XXX

“How do we know this many people?” Dabi asked, before taking another drink of the weird party drink Fuyumi had made.

“Beats me,” Fuyumi said, looking out over all the people who had come to watch the Sports Festival at Cremation Ink. It was mostly neighbors, some of Dabi’s regular clients, and a few close friends and better know co-workers the three oldest Yukitomo siblings had. Natsuo had actually brought a lot of his friends from school, and surprisingly to Fuyumi and Dabi’s delight, his girlfriend, Kana. Who Dabi wanted to point out, was way out of Natsuo league.

“So, the new boyfriend coming today?” Fuyumi asked, nudging her brother.

“He’s not my boyfriend,” Dabi said, which Fuyumi scoffed at, “He was going to come, but he got called into work.”

“Well, that sucks.”

“You have a boyfriend?” a sweet older voice from behind them asked.

The two turned around and smiled.

“Mrs. Kitabayashi,” Fuyumi said happily as the older woman gave her a hug, “You made it.”

“Wasn’t going to miss it for the world,” the gray-haired woman said, before turning to hug Dabi. Mrs.Kitabayashi was their downstairs neighbor and Shiki’s grandmother. When the family first moved in, she became a sort of surrogate grandmother. None of the Yukitomo children remembered any of their grandparents, and Shoto had never met them, so her presence was welcomed. Besides that, she made an amazing anpan, which speaking of…

“Oh, anpan!” Natsuo said, with his eyes trained on the plentiful that Mrs.Kitabayashi had brought. As he reached for one, the elderly woman slapped his hand away. Natsuo made a face like he was a five-year-old getting caught with his hand in the cookie jar, and Mrs.Kitabayashi gave him an ‘oh, no you don’t,’ look. Then she smiled and pinched Natsu’s check like she did when he tried to pull the same stuff when he was younger. She then let Natsuo take one but said, “Make sure you let other people have some.”

“Yes ma’am,” the white-haired boy said, before shoving half the roll in his mouth, before getting pulled away by one of his friends.

“Now what’s this about you having a boyfriend?” Mrs. Kitabayashi asked.

“Dabi has a boyfriend!?” a cheery voice cried. Two more people had shown up, Hotaka and Ren. The Yukitomo siblings had known the couple since they were first on their own. Hotaka used to be a teacher who had lived in the old neighborhood and was Natsuo's teacher for a very short time. He was a good guy, really smart and stuff. He was tall with tan skin and black hair that kicked across his forehead. Ren was Hotaka’s partner, and well, very different from Hotaka. Ren was usually in drag and, if not still dressed in very loud clothes. But despite that, Ren was one of the most delightful and most exciting people on the earth to be with.

Dabi had seen Ren around before Hotaka started dating them. They'd be on the corner selling oddball items and doing unusual jobs in the hope of paying rent, and when they weren’t doing that, they were seen helping others find a way to keep a roof over their head.

Like the Yukitomo siblings, Hotaka and Ren were able to get out of the shitty living conditions they were in before. Once they were married, the couple opened up a cafe that doubles as a place for people to stay if they had nowhere to go.

“Ren, Hotaka, good to see you,” Dabi said, nodding his head.

“The pleasantries can wait,” Ren said, “I want to hear about this boyfriend.”

“I do not have a boyfriend,” Dabi said, trying to walk away.

“Yes, he does,” Fuyumi said.

“Oh!” Ren cried.

“You sound to be in denial,” Hataka said.

“Whatever.”

“He’s just stubborn,” Fuyumi said.

“Can still hear you,” Dabi yelled from across the room.

The black-haired man watched the group laugh and start talking as he walked to the back room. He pulled out his phone and saw a couple messages from Hawks.

Bird Guy: Hey, sorry for not being able to come.

Bird Guy: Maybe I could stop by later?

Bird Guy: Or we could hang out another time?

A smile tugged at Dabi’s lips, and he was about to text back when Fuyumi opened the door and said, “Hey, ith festivals about to start. You coming?”

“Okay, I’m coming,” he said, “Let’s watch out little brother kick ass.”

Fuyumi smiled “That’s the sprite.”

XXX

“I am so ready for this!” Yoarashi yelled.

Shoto glanced down at his friend for a second before, taking a deep breath as he finished tying the last band across his forehead.

In the first round of the Sports Festival, Shot had failed to place first. Sure he got in the top three places in the obstacle course, but fuck it, he wanted to win this with his power. No, he needed to win this with his own power.

The cavalry battle was the only thing Shoto was thinking about at the moment. On his team, he had Yaomomo, Iida, and Yoarashi. His gaze moved over to Midoriya, but this time it was to just stare at the pretty green-haired boy. No, that would have to wait; this time, he had to focus on beating Midoriya and all his other classmates.

When they were told to start, Shoto was focused on the task at hand. Blacking other teams from steal points and trying to take as many as he could. It reminded him of when he was little in elementary school, and they would play capture the flag with their Quirks before the teachers noticed.

As they reached the end, things began to blur. Shoto’s heart picked up the pace, he was breathing fast, and sweat dripped down his face. He was doing everything he could to keep Midoriya and his team away from them.

But then, Midoriya came at him, on his left side. There was this specific power around Midoriya that felt familiar, but then, it happened.

It was a knee jerk reaction. Something that he hadn’t done since he was a small child that Dabi could pick up and toss over his shoulder. It had been disciplined it out of himself to never, ever do such a thing, and for almost eight damn years, he never used it beyond warmth and thawing ice. Not one damn time. Honestly, it ended as quickly as it came. It was practically nothing.

But still, it happened. Shoto was so distracted by it he didn’t notice that Midoriya had taken one of the bands until it was over. Maybe it was fine. Perhaps no one saw anything at all.

But one look into those green eyes told Shoto everything. It was his worst fear come true. The feeling of utter dread filled him. He was forced to face the facts.

He knew Midoriya saw the fire dance across his arm. He knew.

XXX

Natsuo looked at the tv with a dry feeling in his mouth. Looking around the room, it didn’t seem like anyone else noticed. They hadn’t seen what Natsuo saw. He swallowed thickly and tried to push the fear down.

It was okay, he told himself, no saw anything. Not one person saw it. It was only him. Only him. However, he was starting to shake, and it seemed like Kana did notice that.

“You okay?” she asked, resting her hand on top of his in concern.

“Yeah,” he said, sounding out of breath, “Yeah, I’m fine. I’m just gonna talk to Dabi real quick. Be right back.”

Kana nodded, and Natsuo pecked her on the forehead and got up and walked over to his brother.

“Did you see that?” Natsuo whispered once he was close enough to Dabi.

“What?” the black-haired man asked.

“Sho’s arm,” Natsuo said, pointing to the tv that was showing a replay of the events.

The two Yukitomo boys observed. It was hard to notice, all most impossible to see from the screen of a tv. But if it were in person, up close, it wouldn’t be hard at all to see the few tiny licks of fire.

Dabi’s jaw fell a little, and he cursed under his breath. The two brothers looked at each other. Dabi covered his mouth with his hand and looked over to Fuyumi, who was watching carefully and smiling next to Ren. She hadn’t seen it.

“Don’t say anything to Fuyumi,” Dabi whispered.

“Well, no fricking duh!” Natsuo hissed.

“Shh!” Dabi looked around the packed room, “It fine no one seemed to notice; here or on TV. Just go sit back down.”

Natsuo nodded but bit his lip as a sinking feeling fooled his gut. He walked back over to his friends and Kana, each step feeling heavy and filled with tight nerves.

“Everything okay?” she asked.

“Huh?” he said, looking at her, “Oh, yeah. Everythings fine. It’s just fine.”

Although Natsuo knew damn well, things were not fucking fine.

XXX

When it was over, Shoto was shaky. He was out of breath and sweaty form all the work he had done to be able to move on, but his fast heartbeat was due to a whole other factor.

It looked like no one had noticed anything strange about him during the match. Bt that looking in Midoriya’s eyes was haunting him. Nothing else mattered. He didn’t care or hear Yoarashi cherries of victory and glee at the fact they had moved on. He didn’t move when Yaomomo placed her hand on his shoulder and asked him if he was excited. No of that meant anything.

Honestly, right now, if Shoto’s life was an episode of that old American show Natsuo liked called It’s Always Sunny in Philadelphia, the title screen’s white letters would read: Shoto has a fucking crisis.

Shoto looked across the field at Midoriya.

It was time for a talk.

XXX

The hallway was dark. The opening lets in light so Midoriya and Shoot could see each other. The white-haired boy noticed that the smaller teen looked a little nervous, which was fair, see as Shoto all but dragged Midoriya into the hall. Also, they had just been staring at each other for a long time, and Shoto had been informed many times by his siblings that it was creepy when Shoto stares at people because he failed to blink.

There was a thick, tense silence that hung in the air, like the time Natsuo, Dabi, and he had broken Fuyumi’s ceramic ballerina figure (one of the few things she loved at the time,) and not one of them knew what to do. The quiet was sickening almost, so Midoirya decided to end it.

“You brought me here,” he said quietly, “Now what?”

A wonderful question. It went unanswered for some time.

Midoriya looked at the ground and nervously said, “We should go eat soon. The cafeteria is going to be busy. Don’t you think?”

Very, very far back in the corner of Shoto’s mind, he did think that all the chances of him maybe getting into a relationship with Midoriya beyond friendship were going to die after this conversation. After the slip up this morning, and the stuff he was bound to mess up now. There was just no coming back for it.

“That day on the beach,” Midoriya said, “You lied, didn’t you?”

Shoto said nothing, his heart sinking a little.

“Your Quirk isn’t stunted on your left side,” he went on, “You have a dual Quirk. That's why the left side of your body is so warm, it’s why you can’t use ice on that side of your body. You almost have two Quirks.”

Midoriya looked down at his feet then back up at Shoto, “The other part of your Quirk has to do with heat.”

Nothing.

“Why would you hide it?” he asked, “It could help you so much.”

“I was caught off guard,” Shoto said, “It made me do something I swore I’d never do.”

“What is that?” Midoriya asked. Shoto was quiet again.

Shoto looked down at his left hand, “All the other’s, Yoarashi, Uraraka, Iida, all of them, they didn’t notice it. Me using that other power. But you’re not the only one who’s been watching people. I’ve been noticing things about you too. At that moment, I was the only one who noticed your true power. It reminded me of something. Being around All Might’s Quirk.”

Shoto looked at Midoriya. The green-haired boy swallowed nervously, “Well yeah, okay. Is that all?”

“I’m saying the power from you felt the same as All Might’s.”

Here it goes.

“Midoriya, are you All Might’s secret love child, or something?”

The look on Midoriya’s face could be compared with someone who heard the most bizarre and terrifying thing in their life. What followed was per-usual Midoiray answer, having him talk fast and frantic move his arms as he denied everything Shoto said. However, the white-haired boy noticed that the world's Midoriya used suggested that something was going on between him and All Might.

“It’s fine,” Shoto said, “Even if I were right, you wouldn’t tell me anyway.”

There was quiet again.

“You still haven’t answered my question,” Midoriya said.

“About what?”

“Your power. It more than just ice. Why are you hiding it when it can help you? What is it?”

Shoto sighed and closed his eyes. He knew he shouldn’t be telling some as smart as Midoriya. Not if there was even a sliver of a chance of him finding out. But at the moment, Shoto could stop himself.

“My father was a terrible man,” Shoto said, “Prideful, cruel, arrogant. He was never happy with what he had, and he knew he was never going to surpass the one man who kept him from having everything. So he sought to achieve his goals through his children.”

Shoto opened his eyes and looked at Midoriya, who seemed to sink a bit.

“Midoriya,” Shoto said, “Have you ever heard of a Quirk-marriage?”

The other teen’s eyes grew, and he let out a tiny gasp. Shoto took that as a yes and went on.

“My father had money, power, and status. He easily convinces my mother’s family to sell her off like she wasn’t even a person. He forced her to have us, me, and my older siblings.”

Shoto looked down at his boots and threw grit teeth, said, “My brothers and my sister were failures in his eyes. My older brother was forced to train with his Quirk, even though it was literally killing himself to do so.

“Then, I was born. And I was the perfect mix that he wanted. I was five, and he pushed me with training that most people in their adult years can’t handle.”

“But my mother,” Shoto said, his voice trailing off a bit, “She tried to stop him. She tried to protect us…” Shoto looked at his hand, “And he would hit her.”

Shoto eyes stung as he thought of his mother, “He drove her crazy. In all the memories I have of her, my mother’s crying. She couldn’t look at any of us, especially me.”

Shoto lent his head back and closed his eyes, his hand moving to cover his scar. “You’re left is unsightly, that’s what she said during one of her meltdowns before she poured boiling water on my face.”

“Ever since I was younger, I resented my father and the power he gave me. I reject him completely by not using my left side.”

The white-haired teen opened his eyes, “And besides, me only using my right side keeps my family safe too.”

Shoto looked at Midoriya. The look on the other teen’s face was hard to read. If Shoto had to describe it, he'd call it a mix between sad and shocked.

“What happened to your father?” Midoriya asked quietly.

“He’s not a factor in my life anymore,” Shoto murmured, “Neither is my mother.”

“Why did you tell me-?”

“I don’t know,” Shoto said, shaking his head, “I don’t know. What I do know is that I have to bet you. It’s the truth, and I’m not sorry about it. I do wish you luck. I came here to be a hero, my own kind of hero. I’ll do anything I can to make that happen. Sorry to unlock everything.”

Shoto began to walk out of the hall, deciding to go and have some lunch. There was nothing left to say.

“Yukitomo! Wait!”

Shoto stopped in his tracks and turned to look at Midoriya.

“You’re strong,” he said, “You’re really, really strong, even when you only use half of your Quirk. It’s insane. You have been doing amazing but,” Midoriya looked down and then back up again, “I came here to be my own kind of hero too. So even though right now you’re stronger than me, just know, I’m going to do my best and give it a 100%!”

His face fell a little, “You should think to do the same.”

And with than Midoriya left.

XXX

Dabi screamed with everyone else in the parlor. It was Shoto’s first match. The black hair kid on-screen had wrapped him up in what looked to be tape. A lot of people were worried that Shoto was going to get out in the first round. But Dabi knew better.

One look at Shoto’s face, and Dabi could tell it was about to go down. And holy fuck was here right. If he had to guess, the freaking ice wall his brother had made was probably bigger than anything he had ever made before.

“Well, he dealt with that one,” Mrs. Kitabayashi said dryly, before taking a drink of tea.

“Remember that time he did that so the landlord couldn’t get to us?” Ren asked.

Dabi looked over at Fuyumi. Her jaw was hanging down, and her eyes were glued to the screen.

“That happened,” Dabi said.

“Y-yeah,” she said. Dabi looked back at the tv. “I think little baby Shoto is upset about something.”

“You think?” she asked, looking at the screen. Dabi looked down at Fuyumi’s hand, gripping her drink. Little ice shards were starting to form around her hand. Dabi sighed and looked at his brother on TV. He looked cold.

XXX

Shoto ran his hands through his hair. Deep breaths, he told himself. Deep breaths. In and out. In and out. He hadn’t meant to do all of that to Sero, or freeze half the dang stadium. It just happened.

He was getting cold, and Shoto knew that when he gets cool, things got bad. He thought back to what Midoriya said and shook his head. Midoriya didn’t know what he was talking about. He didn’t realize the unholy hell it would unleash on the Yukitomo household. He didn’t understand that Shoto using that power to fight, let that monster win.

Deep breaths, deep breaths, he told himself. Remember what Fuyumi taught you.

After what seemed like forever, it was time to go out for his match with Midoriya. He was ready. He could do this. He thought back to his siblings, who were all back at the shop, watching and cheering him on with all their friends and neighbors.

It felt like one of those things that weren’t just for him. It was for them too. It was for Fuyumi who helping him study. It was for Natsuo who patched him up when Shoto was too rough with himself. It was for Dabi, who trained him and who gave Shoto everything. This was for them. He was a hero for them. He was showing them he could do this. That they didn’t need to watch after him anymore. It was his turn to watch after others.

When Shoto got out back into the arena, he was vaguely aware of the hoards of people cheering for him and Midoriya. Shoto’s focus was unsurprisingly on the green-haired teen across from him. He’s pretty, Shoto, though before pushing that aside time to focus.

But a though blessed in his mind. Not of Midoriya, or the monster, or of the crowd, or of his siblings. It was his mother. Why was he thinks about her now? Why was he thinks of the time he cried into her chest sobbing. If he was to focus, Shoto could remember her gentle hold and the soft strokes of her hand.

“Shoto,” she had said, “Do you still want to be a hero?”

Had she asked him that?

“Just remember to stay true to yourself,” her voice rang in his mind. Had he forgotten what she had said to him back then?

Shoto shook himself. Now wasn’t the time.

When the match started, Shoto out a trail of ice with his foot, and Midoriya deflected it with a shot of power from his finger. The wind from it almost pushed Shoto back, but he made a barracked to stop that. Midoriya’s finger of cores broke, which meant he only had nine shots left. Shoto tried the same move again, which led to Midoriya brake another finger.

He can’t keep doing that, Shoto thought. Once again, the white-haired teen shot out an ice trail, which was yet again deflected. Another broken digit.

“If you want an endurance match, you came to the wrong place,” Shoto said, “I’m going to end this real quick.”

For a fourth time, Shoto let lose an ice trail, and with that, Midoriya had four broken fingers. It was time to act further. Shoto began to run towards Midoriya, going up a ramp of ice. However, using the fingers of the other hand, Midoriya shot Shoto out of the air. Shoto tried to land an attack before he got to the ground, but Midoriya dodged it. He was able to snag Midoriya’s foot in some ice.

To get himself out, Midoriya used a full-on smash. It was a lot more potent than any of the other attacks, and it had broken his whole arm. He was trying to keep Shoto plenty far away. Shoto could feel patches of ice forming across his body, he could feel himself shaking. It hurt but nothing he couldn’t deal with. Or so he told himself

“You’re not going to let me near you,” Shoto said, “Smart.”

Midoriya looked scared and unsure.

“What’s wrong?” Shoto called, “Already worn out from blocking my attacks?”

Midoriya didn’t say anything; he just looked at Shoto like he was studying him.

“Sorry to do this, but thanks for drawing it out. Nothing personal,” Shoto said, before shooting out a stiff torpedo of ice towards Midoriya.

“I'm not done yet!” Midoriya yelled, and before he understands what happened, Shoto’s ice was obliterated by a mighty blow from Midoriya. It nearly knocked Shoto out of bounds.

Shoto looked at Midoriya. He had used his broken finger. This guy was crazy.

“Why are you going this far?” he asked the green teen.

“You’re trembling,” Midoriya said, “It’s easy to forget that Quirks are physical abilities. That means there’s a limit to how much cold your body can take. I get it whatever heat base Quirk you have o your left side is meant to balance out the cold of your right side. But you're not going to do that are you?”

Shoto growled angrily. He wasn’t going to deal with this.

“Listen,” Midoriya said, “All of us are giving it everything we have to try to win. So that we can make our dreams into reality. To become number one. You think you can win with half your strength? Look at me, Yukitomo. You haven’t managed to put a single scratch on me yet. So come at me with ever you got!”

“What are you trying to do?” Shoto asked, “You what my left side? Trust me, you wouldn’t like what happened.”

“Try me,” Midoriya challenged.

Now Shoto was fucking pissed. He began to charge at Midoriya, but even he could tell his movements were slower. When he got close to Midoriya, Shoto noticed he messed up, allowing Midoriya to punch him in the gut. But with the closeness, Shoto was able to freeze Midoriya’s broken arm.

Shoto scrambled to his feet. For a while, it was Midoriya swinging at him and Shoto dodging, then even more of Shoto shooting ice and Midoriya braking it and sending him back.

“Why are you putting yourself through this?” Shoto yelled, “What are you getting out of it?”

“I wanna live up to people’s expectations,” Midoriya said, running towards Shoto. “I wanna be able to smile while doing something good for them. I wanna be a pro. Whatever takes to be a hero!”

Midoriya’s fist collided with Shoto’s gut and sent him back afoot, the white-haired boy struggled to stay upright.

“That’s why I’m giving it my all, just like you should be!”

Shoto was breathing heavily. Panting and shaking. He was so cold, so tired.

“There’s no way I can know what you’ve gone through,” Midoriya said, “Or why you’re even here. Your life has been so much different than mine. But right now, stop screwing around. If you wanna reject your father, fine, but stop screwing around. You don’t deserve to be number one if you’re not going to give it you're all.

And then something inside Shoto snapped.

~X~

He’s on the floor of the dojo. He’s just thrown up his lunch, and he coughing and wheezing. Father looms over him, face ablaze. Shoto’s crying. He wants Mama.

“Stand up,” Father yells, “If you get hurt that easily, you can forget about beating All Might.”

Shoto doesn’t want to. He doesn’t want to train. He doesn’t want to beat All Might or anyone.

“Please, stop this!” Mama cries, “He’s only five!”

“He’s already five, not get out of my way, woman!”

SMACK!

Shoto looks up, “Mama?” he whispers

~X~

Shoto's body is getting colder.

“Shut up,” he whispers threw grit teeth.

~X~

They’re in Mama’s room, Shoto’s cries into her chest while she runs her hand threw his hair.

“I don’t wanna Mama,” Shoto cries, “I don’t be like him. I don’t wanna be some who bullies you. I don’t wanna be some who hurts people. I don’t wanna be like Dad!” he wailed.

“But honey,” she says, so sweetly, “You still wanna be a hero, don’t you?”

Shoto looks at her.

“Just remember to stay true to yourself. You can be the kind of hero you want to be when you grow up.”

~X~

Midoiya punched him in the stomach again.

Shoto flew back.

~X~

His siblings are playing in the courtyard. Natsuo’s the tallest. Fuyumi’s the best dribbler. Touya’s wrapped in bandages. The nanny watches them.

They’re laughing. They’re happy. They’re free.

Shoto watches from the railing.

He wants to play too.

Father grabs his wrist so hard it bruises.

“Don’t look at them, Shoto,” he says, “They live in a different world than the one I’m training you for.”

Shoto is tripping over his own feet to keep up. He doesn’t wanna go to the training room.

~X~

“Ungrateful brat!” Father yelled, hand around Touya’s neck.

Shoto, see’s his big brother wizing, struggling to breathe.

There’s fire, blue and red.

Natsuo's holding him.

“Learn some respect,” Father says before slamming Touya down where he withers in pain from his own power.

“Nii-chan!” Natsuo cries

“Ani!” Shoto says, trembling before Father pulls him away.

~X~

“Mom, I can’t do this anymore,” Mama says, “The children, every day they look more and more like him. Shoto, I can’t raise him anymore. All I see is his father. His left side, it unsightly.”

“Mama, what are you talking about?” he asks.

Mama freezes and turns to look at him while the teapot whistles.

Shoto had never seen her eyes like that before.

~X~

Shoto remembered it.

~X~

“Stupid woman, to hurt you at such an important time,” Father grumbles.

“Where did Mama go?” Shoto asks.

“Huh, she hurt my masterpieces, so I put her in a hospital to keep you safe.”

“That was your fault,” Shoto says.

“What?”

“You, the one who made her hurt me.”

~X~

“I’m afraid I’ll be like Dad!” Shoto says holing on to Dabi's shirt for dal life, “I’m afraid that even though we’re away, he still has control over me!”

“You’re nothing like the old bastard,” Dabi said, “You reject him, Shoto. You’re not him, you never will be.”

~X~

“I won’t do it,” Shoto says, “I would use his power, I won’t use my left side.”

Then it was Midoriya’s turn to snap.

“It’s your power, isn’t it!! It’s your power, not his!”

~X~

It’s an All Might interview. Mama’s watching it with him.

All Might says that kids get their power from their parents, but their abilities are there own.

~X~

“Come here, Shoto,” Touya says, pulling him close and opening his palm. A little blue flame blossoms and dances across his arm.”

“See? Fire’s not all that scary.”

~X~

“I know your dad was a bad person,” Shiki says, “But my grandma says that the best way to get back at someone is to forget about them and try and be happy.”

Shoto looks at her.

“Your power’s really nice, Sho-chan! I’m sure you’ll be a good hero!”

~X~

“It’s okay if you wanna use your fire side, Shoto,” Fuyumi says.

“Yeah!” Natsuo says, “Dad’s not around to make you use it. So it’s okay.”

~X~

Shoto looked at Midoriya.

And then erupted into flames.

His power

#wdfb #mh #bnha #todoroki shouto #todoroki fuyumi #todoroki family #dabi is a todoroki #todoroki touya #tododeku #todoroki natsuo

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a-little-international · 5 years

Text

Stable (3)

Summary: Even Tom knows it’s a cliché for the stable hand to fall in love with the star rider.

Pairing: Tom Holland/OC

Warnings: petty and hormonal teenage boys

Words: 2,791

A/N: since moving back home, i’ve started riding again and honestly there’s a distinct lack of male stable hands in my age range which is UNACCEPTABLE and is the primary reason for reviving this fic.

The Series: Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3, Chapter 4

Chapter 3

Wednesday rolled around much faster than Tom ever wanted it to, dreading having to spend the hours after school running after Harrison Osterfield and trying his best to avoid the topic of Ren. Knowing Harrison, that was unlikely, but he still held out hope. The only good thing about Wednesdays was that the last two hours were a double art class with his mum, and his best friend Jacob sitting by his side.

“Do you think they made out?” Jacob asked, pushing down on his lump of clay, “Like with tongues and everything?”

Tom slammed his chunk of clay on the table, grimacing at Jacob, “Can you shut up?” he replied, his voice hushed as he glanced up to see if his mother had overheard. “And I’m sure if they did it was with tongues, we’re not twelve anymore dude.”

“Yeah and it’s Osterfield, guy’s such a slimy bugger I bet he shoved it all the way down her throat,” Jacob carried on, sticking his tongue out as far as possible to demonstrate, adding slurping and gagging sounds for effect.

“Shut up,” Tom reiterated, clenching his hands into the clay at the thought of Harrison all over Ren. He was jealous, he knew he was and he knew it was a terrible thing to do and Ren didn’t owe him a second of her time, let alone her affection, but he just wished she wasn’t into Harrison of all people. He didn’t even want to know what the implication of them being at boarding school together meant - he’d heard plenty about the goings on between students at Saints and he tried to push Ren’s potential involvement with any of that as far out of his mind as he could possible manage.

As if Jacob could read his mind, he rambled on, “Do you think they’ve slept together?”

“Ugh, Jacob! Please!” Tom exclaimed, throwing his head back. He did not want to be thinking about this mere hours before having to look at Harrison all evening.

“You need to face the facts, Tom. They’re probably banging and she’s never going to look at you that way.”

“Ouch,” Tom pouted as he continued to squish the clay between his hands, in no way following his mother’s instructions.

“You have been pining over her for too long, my friend. This may actually be a good thing! You’ll be able to go off to University without having to dream forever more about the beautiful yet elusive Ren.”

“Not sure if I’m even going to Uni,” Tom sulked, tugging the sleeves of his uniform jumper higher up his elbows so they wouldn’t get too ruined.

“Well my point still stands, you can’t mope about for the rest of your life Thomas. Plenty of fish, and all that.”

Tom frowned at his friend, not loving where this conversation had headed when all he’d wanted was a pep talk for later. “You’re mister romantic, what happened? Since when are you so anti pursuing what could possibly be the love of your life?” he exclaimed, kneading down on his clay.

Jacob smirked as he leaned against the table, his blob of clay totally forgotten about. “Listen, I am all for pursuing the love of your life. I just want to posit that there may be more than one, and you’ve gotta let it go when you know you’ve been beaten. Plenty of fish, you hear me? You’ll find more success elsewhere, young padawan.”

“Fine, Obi,” Tom sighed, rolling his eyes, “but I don’t know that I’ve been beaten yet. We don’t know for sure that anything has ever happened between them and so I might still be in with a chance. She said I was her favourite on Saturday,” he added proudly, as if that proved anything.

Jacob snorted and returned to his clay, “Alright casanova, let me know how to that goes. But I’ll bet you five quid and the snickers at the bottom of my bag that you’ll find out plenty from Harrison this evening.”

“I’ll take you up on the fiver, but I don’t want anything to do with that rank snickers.”

“Suits me,” Jacob shrugged, shooting a grin at his best friend and Tom knew he was only trying to protect him from another round of heartache and pining. This sort of thing happened every few months, where Ren was concerned. She would say something, and Tom would completely misinterpret it and get his hopes up and nothing would happen and on the cycle would go.

“Boys, come on, less gossiping more creating!” Tom’s mother’s voice brought him out of his thoughts and he grinner up at her, desperately hoping she hadn’t overheard any part of their conversation. Knowing her, though, that seemed highly unlikely. He wondered if she would bring it up at dinner, or store it away for later referral. She winked back at him as she walked away, tapping her fingers against his desk. Tom dropped his head, groaning internally at the thought of having to discuss this with her later.

---

“Alright Tom, can you grab Skylark next please, Harrison’s just arrived and he’ll want to jump right up.” Called his dad from the barn doors, a bunch of polo mallets tucked under his arm.

“Daaaaad,” Tom groaned, throwing his head back as he pulled a face, “can’t I go get someone else? Literally anyone else, please,” he begged, approaching his dad.

Peering out at the courtyard he saw Harrison talking to his mother through the open car window as he pulled on his gloves, looking clean and tidy and expensive as ever. Tom scuffed his worn out boot tip against the flagstones.

Dominic Holland looked over his shoulder to give his son a stern look, one eyebrow raised. “Now Tom, you’ve got about three minutes to pick up that attitude and get Skylark out to the field.”

“Literally anyone else.” Tom repeated himself, his eyes practically begging his father to relent.

Mr. Holland was not to be moved or swayed. “Go, now. Please Tom.”

There was no winning, and Tom just hoped that Harrison would ignore him all evening.

Alas, he had no such luck, as the second Harrison rounded the corner to the polo field, his eyes were fixed on Tom and he could have sworn he saw the star player square his shoulders as he approached.

“Evening, Holland,” Harrison greeted curtly, swinging up onto his horse without a second’s hesitation, “good weather for a game, isn’t it?”

“Yep,” Tom replied, just as stiffly as he handed the reins up to Harrison, “cracking weather.” He wondered why Harrison was talking to him about the weather at all, the fact that he had even acknowledged him without being forced to was just as unusual as it was suspicious. “Have a good rideout on Saturday?” Tom heard himself asking out loud, to his absolute horror. He tried his best not to make too much of a face as he glanced up at Harrison, who was fiddling with one of his stirrup leathers.

“Hmm?” Harrison hummed, not bothering to look at Tom, as he checked the new length of his stirrup, “Oh, with Florence?” he added, almost absentmindedly.

Tom bit down on his lip. If he had been talking to anyone else, it would have almost seemed like a normal, totally casual conversation. But it was exactly that normal, totally casual way in which Harrison spoke her name that felt like dig; like he was telling Tom how totally normal and casual it was for him to be spending time with her, when to Tom it was a treasured commodity.

All Tom could muster as a response was a nod of his head and an affirmative grunt.

If it hadn’t been for his impulsive question in the first place, he wouldn’t have to remain next to Harrison, painfully waiting for an answer he wasn’t sure he really wanted to hear. But there he was, standing next to the epitome of what he both always wanted to be and tried his best to never become, waiting for what felt like the inevitable blow that would break his heart.

“Oh it was rather good,” Harrison said, smirking at Tom as he shifted around in the saddle, his shoulders pushing back confidently. “Nice to get some one-on-one time with her, school can be pretty manic, you know how it is”.

That definitely felt like another dig, and Tom swallowed as he nodded up at Harrison unable to think of a properly. Of course he didn’t know how it was at school with them. Mayfield College was a world away from St. Augustine’s, even if it was just three miles down the road. He’d been inside the old brick walls of the boarding school a couple of times for various school events, and had visited the sprawling grounds more often than that for the occasional soccer match or to cheer on his school’s rugby team, but he couldn’t really begin to imagine what it was like going there. He’d definitely never have imagined it as manic.

“Anyway, hoping to get some proper one-on-one time with her this Saturday anyway,” Harrison continued smugly, winking at Tom suggestively, who had stuffed his balled fists so deep into the pockets of his jacket he was worried he might tear the fabric. “I’m sure you must have heard all about my party by now.”

Tom just glared up at Harrison, biting down on the inside of his cheek. He didn’t like what Harrison was implying at all, and he certainly hadn’t heard of his stupid party and he was sure that Harrison knew that too. Another jab, just to be sure.

“Oh well, it really is just all Saints people anyway, so I suppose you mightn’t have heard after all,” Harrison shrugged, a smile tugging at the side of his mouth as he looked down his nose at Tom. “We’re never quite sure what trickles down to you lot at Mayfield,” he added, a smug grin spreading over his face as he urged his horse forward onto the field, without another glance back.

Tom looked over at his brother Sam, jaw dropped at Harrison’s comment. Sam was just sending another team member onto the field with a short wave when he looked over and frowned questioningly back at Tom.

“I hate him,” Tom grumbled as he stomped over to complain, hands still buried in his pockets, “so much.”

Sam rolled his eyes, looking around to see if anyone else needed any more help. “He’s really not that bad.”

“Hey, you’re meant to be on my side,” Tom replied, shooting a look at his brother before turning his attention to the riders on the field, who were all being handed their mallets by their trainer.

“It’s just an act, you know that right?” Sam questioned, raising an eyebrow at Tom.

“Did you know about his party on Saturday?” Tom continued, choosing to completely ignore what his brother had just said, he was clearly delusional. “Ren is going to it apparently.”

“Good for her,” Sam chuckled, leaning back against the fence as the game started, horses racing past them and mallets swinging. Tom had already lost sight of the ball amongst the trampling of hooves.

“Yeah,” Tom nodded, watching as Harrison sharply turned his horse around to go barrelling down towards the other end of the field. And sure, it was good for her, he was glad she was being invited to parties and having fun and had what seemed to be a great group of friends from all accounts, he just really wished it wasn’t with Harrison. He knew he sounded like an entitled child and resented that feeling inside him, but he couldn’t help being so in love with her that every time she so much as looked his way his mouth ran dry. Being seventeen and in love was hard work.

---

Even dripping in sweat Harrison Osterfield looked good, and Tom made a mental note to add that to his list of things that bothered him about the preppy polo player.

Harrison held out his muddy mallet for Tom to take as he swung down off his horse, boots hitting the slightly soggy ground with a confident thud.

“Good game, Osterfield, good game,” Remy Hii, the team captain jeered, slapping Harrison on the shoulder with a big grin.

“All down to your stellar leadership, of course,” Harrison replied, tipping his helmet like he was some sort of nineteenth century gentleman. Tom rolled his eyes as he held up a bucket of water so Skylark could get a drink.

“See you on Saturday, yeah?” Tom heard Remy say as he walked away, his own horse in tow.

“Absolutely” Harrison replied, waving his gloved hand in salute. For a second, Tom wondered what it would be like to be in Harrison’s circle of friends, to actually be privy to invites and jockular exchanges, when he felt a firm had come down on his shoulder.

“You know, Holland, Florence was saying you’re gonna be her groom for the season,” Harrison said, his voice barely over a whisper, and a shiver of dread ran down Tom’s spine at the anticipation of an upcoming threat, “and I just to make sure that you know that if anything happens to her at all, I will be blaming you, so you better do a better job at checking the leather with her than you did with me.”

Tom frowned at him, feeling like he was missing the punchline of a joke. For one, he was entirely caught off guard by Harrison’s apparent protectiveness of Ren, and secondly he had no idea what leather he meant and what could possibly be wrong with it.

Harrison didn’t wait long to illuminate him as he lifted the upper skirt of the saddle to expose the top of the stirrup strap, where the stitching keeping it all together had almost entirely come apart and the leather had worn down so much that it almost seemed like a miracle that he hadn’t entirely lost his stirrup during the two hours of training.

Tom didn’t know what to say; with the level these people were riding at, a sudden loss of stirrup at the wrong moment could be fatal, and he had no idea how he’d missed it. He looked at Harrison, eyes wide, hoping he wouldn’t say anything to anyone about it or he’d be off the roster for the next two millennia and he could wave goodbye to ever getting to hang around Ren again.

“Now, I’m going to let this slide on the conditions that you fix this immediately,” Harrison said, voice low and holding one finger up to Tom like a stern parent, “you make sure my tack and horse are in proper riding condition from this moment forth so I never have to deal with your utter incompetence again,” he continued, holding up a second finger, “ and, that nothing even remotely like this happens to Ren or I will make your life so much worse than it already is,” he finished, holding up a rather menacing looking third finger. “Don’t test me.”

All Tom could do was nod, still totally caught off guard to Harrison’s attitude towards Ren. He’d always seemed like a slimy git and he was at least seventy five percent sure he was some kind of psychopath, but maybe Sam was right. But then again, maybe Sam was wrong and Harrison was just playing mind games with him and knew Tom’s weakness was always and forever going to be Ren, and the momentary reprieve in animosity he had felt for Harrison dissipated pretty swiftly.

“I’ll take Skylark in for you then,” Tom finally said after enough tense seconds had passed between them, taking the reins and making a move back towards the stables.

“Absolutely not,” Harrison hissed, snatching the reins right back, “I’ll leave the saddle on the bench in the tack room for you to fix, and mark my words: I’ll be checking every last stitch before I get on next time and if even one thing is out of place I will be informing your father of your sheer incompetence.

Tom watched as Harrison led Skylark away, the half empty water bucket still dangling from his fingertips, totally ignoring the other team members that were still bustling around that might be in need of some assistance.

“What was that all about?” Harry asked, sidling up next to him with a dirty towel used for rubbing down the sweaty horses flung over his shoulder.

Tom pursed his lips and glanced over at his brother, “So, I almost killed Harrison Osterfield and then he threatened me.”

“Fair,” Harry shrugged casually, “but better luck next time.”

---

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looselucy · 6 years

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- Catch Up -

It was grim Friday afternoon when I rushed into the restaurant where I used to work, shaking my umbrella dry by the front door and beaming up to Craig as soon as I saw him. “EY, IT’S BELLONA BROWN!” He cheered. “Long time no bloody see!” “It’s because you call me Bellona, so I avoid you.” I tittered, smiling wide as I moved towards him.

I certainly didn’t miss the job, but I missed the people. Never before had I been surrounded by so many wonderful people on a daily basis. No matter how long or tedious a shift was, it was hard to leave that building without feeling like I’d enjoyed myself, despite dick-head customers and piss-poor management. I leant over the counter and planted a big smooch on Craig’s cheek, before he quickly went back to preparing behind the bar for what was bound to be a hectic Friday evening. “You come to bother Harry on his lunch?” He questioned, moving around and wiping down surfaces. “He asked me to!” I cried. “Miss you like mad round here. How long have you been gone now?” “Almost a year!” “Fuck off.” His eyes widened. “That’s gone so quick!” “Glad I’m still missed.” “All day every day.” It was early afternoon, so they were just preparing for the busy evening, setting tables and making sure everything looked acceptable for when the nine to five lot finished their days and headed over for some cheap but decent food, people celebrating the start of the weekend. “Right, I’ll go get Harry for ya.” “Cheers.” “Watch the bar for me.” He called over his shoulder, setting off to the kitchen. “There’s literally no one bloody here!” I laughed. He shrugged, pushing through the swinging door and going to find Harry for me. I eyed up the place, wondering how the year had gone so quickly but at the same time, it felt like a lifetime since I’d worked there with them all. Harry appeared a few moments later, clutching rather desperately at a single lettuce leaf, looking absolutely exhausted. I knew he’d been out the night before, and he always thought he could hack it, but Harry was absolutely useless on a hangover. “You look… bad.” I gawked. He shoved the pathetic excuse for food into his mouth before dragging his feet over to one of the semi-circle booths, and I followed, sitting myself down on the fake, red leather seat that curved around the table and smiling across to him as he dramatically threw himself down, clearly feeling very sorry for himself. “I usually love prep shifts.” He groaned, laying himself down, facing towards the ceiling. “Don’t have to deal with any bloody customers. Just get everything ready and go bloody home as soon as it starts getting busy.” “You need to learn that you’re bad on a hangover.” I instructed, aware he would never learn. “You can only go out the night before work when you’re at work in the evening.” “Mm.” He grumbled. “And also, you need to eat more than a single fucking lettuce leaf.” “Mm.” He didn’t sound too convinced. I was expecting him to be a tad more entertaining when I’d arranged to go around and share my lunch break with him, and I was definitely expecting some free grub at the very least. He could barely keep his bloody eyes open. I decided to grab his attention. “I reckon they’re gunna fire me.” That did the trick. He shot his eyes open, the lights that were embedded into the low roof above us clearing aching his irises, his brows lowering and squinting in the light. “What?” “Mm. They got rid of two people today, and said they won’t be the only ones. I don’t reckon the work I do is important enough for them to keep me when they’re literally… burning money at the minute. So… Yeah.” “Shit.” He sat upright, rubbing over his eyes a few times. “That’s fucked.” “Yeah.” “You been looking for something else?” “No, because I feel like that’s jinxing it.” I could see he was about to argue with me. “And I know that’s stupid, and I should be looking, otherwise I’ll be fucked if and when it does happen, but�� I’m clutching at straws.” Harry liked to be safe within his life. It was one of the reasons he’d been working in the same place for so long. He knew his routine, he knew his outgoings and he liked the feeling of being secure and safe. I knew the very idea of me not applying for new jobs even though I could practically feel my current one slipping through my fingers would set his mind off into an absolute frenzy. “Right… well… you know they’d take you back here in a heartbeat, so at least you’ve got that.” He groaned. “I don’t wanna come back here.” I huffed. “Why?” “There’s a reason I left in the first place.” “Don’t be a dick.” He seemed disgruntled, almost rolling his eyes. “It’s a decent job.” “I know it’s a decent bloody job, Harry!” I wailed. “I’m not being one of those dickheads who… shuns customer service jobs! You know I’m not one of those people. I hate those people! I just mean… it’s not for me.” He nodded, untensing his shoulders. I’d been the one who turned Harry into this person who became very protective and defensive about his job in the first place. The number of idiots I’d stumbled across who felt like poorly paid jobs in that sort of area meant someone wasn’t smart or wasn’t hard working was extortionate, and I’d seen Harry sit idly by in conversations he was clearly hating. I’d told him he needed to stand up for himself a bit more, make a point and not take shit from people. “Thought you’d turned into a proper nine to fiver then.” He smirked, using the term we’d used a million times. “Not all nine to fivers are like that. This is something I’ve learnt… being one of them.” He smiled across to me, easing even more when I stuck my tongue out at him, then practically falling back against the chair, returning to his painfully hungover state. “Well, still… You’ll be welcome back here, if it comes to that. I hope it doesn’t, but still.” He shrugged. “Thanks.” He closed his eyes, and he honestly looked like he was going to fall asleep, which he probably needed. I kicked him under the table but earnt barely any reaction from him. I kicked harder. “You’re weak as fuck, Lona.” He smiled, eyes still shut. “Bet you’re shit at footy.” “You better make it tonight!” It was officially the evening of our double date, just under a week after I’d first met Lewis. According to Sara, Lewis had bounded over to her desk first thing on Monday morning and asked about me and where I’d disappeared to. She’d done her job wonderfully and suggested a double date to him without making it seem like I’d already planned it all out. She made it all seem like it was her idea, and I planned on giving her a very big, appreciative kiss on the cheek as soon as I saw her. I didn’t know what the hell to expect, but it had been a long time since I’d been on a date, and Lewis seemed nice. I was looking forward to it. But it definitely needed to be double date, so I needed Harry to stay awake. “Urgh. Do I have to?” He mewled. “Yes! You’re the one who made me… bloody dependant on the double date thing.” “I’m rough.” He drawled. “Harry, I need you.” I stuck my bottom lip out. “Pretty please?” He opened one eye at me, grinning like an idiot when he saw my pouty little face, shaking his head before cracking his neck. I kicked him again. “OI!” “The amount of times I’ve accompanied you on painful dates, Harry.” “I’ll be there! You know I’ll be there.” “Thank you!” I cooed. I kicked him one final time, much more affectionately that time around, and he seemed to appreciate it, sweetly returning the gesture.

“I’m going on a date with a nice Liverpudlian boy, and he sounds like Paul McCartney, and I’m very excited.” I beamed down the phone to my mother. “Do you know him at all? Or are you only excited because he sounds like Paul?” “Um… We spoke briefly.” I tried to button up my coat with one hand, fiddling with the buttons and trying to get them through their designated slots. “It is… largely based around his accent, thus far. But he seems nice!” I’d usually have a weekly catch up with my parents over the phone. I only really went back down south over Christmas, so this was the best we had. It was nice though. I liked the little routine we had, where I’d call them on a Friday night before my mum started watching her soaps and when my dad had come back from working away all week. “I don’t know how I feel about you going on dates with random men you don’t know based entirely on their accents.” “S’alright. Harry’s gunna be there, so I’m safe.” “Oh good. That’s good news. How is he?” My parents still hadn’t met Harry, despite the fact we’d been so close for four years. Harry would always go home to his mum at Christmas time, and I would go back to my parents. We’d made a few plans whilst drunk, that we’d go down to London to see them, but they’d never amounted to anything. It was easier with his mum, because she lived so close, but he had yet to be blessed with meeting Sharon and Richard Brown. “He’s good, yeah!” I answered. “As cheerful as ever. He’s good.” “Well send him our love!” “I shall do! I’m outside now, so wish me luck!” “Good luck! Don’t rush into anything!” “I never bloody do. Goodnight, mum. GOODNIGHT DAD!” I yelled, despite the fact there was no way he’d be able to hear me. “Rich, your daughter says goodnight!” I just about heard him yell his goodbyes in the background. “Have a lovely time.” “Thank you! Bye-bye!” “Bye!” I shoved my phone into my pocket and walked into the restaurant that Sara had booked us into, hoping they would all be there already because I was purposefully running late in the hope of avoiding being the first one there. I spotted Harry and Sara rather quickly, seeing her bright blonde hair and his short locks which were trying desperately to curl, their hands intertwined on top of the table and a huge smile on his face. It didn’t take me too long to realise they didn’t have company. Harry took his eyes to the door, spotting me and then waving me over, still smiling brightly, but I couldn’t return it. I’d been good at taming my nerves all day, and after so many experiences of dating alongside Harry Styles, I was used to the setup. It was almost mundane. But seeing that he wasn’t there, I felt otherwise. “Has he stood me up?” I blurted before I could even officially greet them, shuffling my coat off and hanging it on the back of the chair. “If he’s not coming, I’m giving up on men completely.” “He’s coming.” Sara chuckled. “Just text me saying he’s stuck in traffic.” “Bloody hell.” I exhaled, plonking myself down, flimsy as hell. “I thought I’d hit a new dating low, which would be a miracle, considering my track record.” I shot Harry a look, just to remind him that my poor track record was almost entirely his fault, and he just shrugged rather innocently. “Hopefully tonight will be better.” Sara encouraged. “Fingers crossed.” I took my eyes to Harry. “You’re looking better than you did this afternoon.” “You saw each other this afternoon?” “She came round to see me on her lunch,” Harry answered. “And I was not in a good way.” The two of them started discussing the night they’d both been on the night before, where Harry had finally introduced her to some of his uni lads, the ones that were still in Liverpool, and from what Harry had told me earlier, they’d all liked her, which I knew would mean a lot to him. I glanced back over my shoulder, watching the doorway, biting nervously at my lip. It felt like a damn lifetime before he turned up.

I was in extremely high spirits, which was basically foreign ground given the circumstances. I was used to everything going incredibly wrong rather quickly. This time around, it took some time for things to turn sour. We were looking at the dessert menu by the time Lewis ruined bloody everything. He ended up arriving not much later than I had, looking amazing and being charming and I finally felt like I was in for something good. Harry had been shooting me looks all evenings, kicking me under the table and raising his brows at me, and basically making the whole thing very obvious. He wasn’t too good at being inconspicuous. I was debating between the selection of sorbets and the chocolate cake when things changed. “Am I the only one getting dessert?” I sulked, seeing that everyone else had left their menus on the table. “I hate it when I’m the only one getting dessert. I mean like, it’s definitely not going to stop me, I just… don’t like it.” I looked around the table, my eyes finally landing on Harry who was sat directly across from me, batting my eyelashes at him. He merely picked up his menu, and started searching over his options. “So what’s with you two?” Lewis asked after silently watching the interaction. “Huh?” I bolted my head to him. “Your weird… little friendship.” He gestured between myself and Harry. “How did that come about?” “What’s weird about it?” Harry got defensive almost immediately. “I dunno. I guess I just don’t understand how you can be such good mates with a girl.” “What the fuck is that supposed to mean?” I scowled. Unfortunately, this wasn’t the first time myself and Harry had met an idiot who was completely baffled by the concept of a guy and a girl being friends and nothing more. I think it helped the two of us, working in that restaurant for so long and being in that environment. We were constantly meeting people our age, who were gorgeous both inside and out, and the initial instinct would always be to make friends. There were far too many men in the world who limited themselves to male friendships and only saw women as a walking vagina and not much else. I’d just been really hoping that Lewis wasn’t one of them. “Nothing.” Lewis backed down pretty quickly. “I can see I’ve hit a nerve, so I’ll shut up.” “You not got any female mates?” Harry asked that question with a completely dead tone. He had been compelling all evening, as he usually was, but that had changed. Sara picked up the menu, probably just as a way of avoiding the current conversation. “Well… y’know,” Lewis shrugged, taking a sip of his drink to clear his blatantly dry throat. “There are girls I work with and stuff. But… no, I guess I don’t have any girl mates I’m close with.” “That’s the only weird thing here, mate.” Harry grumbled, not dropping his eye contact for even a second, but I appreciated the fact that Lewis managed to hold it. Harry could be quite intimidating when he wanted to be, and he was definitely showing that then. “Y’know what, you’re probably right. It’s just… not something I’ve seen much of before. I didn’t mean anything bad by it.” I was rather quickly willing to forgive and forget the whole thing, to be honest. I could tell he hadn’t meant anything by it, and he definitely wasn’t ready to argue his point, so I was hoping he’d just made an off comment and I could just ignore it. But things were only going to get worse. “I’ve seen it happen to lads I know, especially at uni and stuff.” Harry elaborated. “You’ve gotta have girl mates that you’re close with, it changes shit. Changes how you view things. I know lads who just see girls as like… a sexual thing, and it’s fucked up.” “I’m not like that.” Lewis shook his head, but I could see Harry wasn’t convinced. “But… yeah, I know what you mean. I guess I’ve never really thought about it.” Harry’s mum had brought him up all her own, and clearly done a brilliant job. I guess he’d always had a positive relationship with the females in his life, and I think for Harry it was pretty much always on a friend’s basis before it was anything else. I felt like that might have been one of the reasons he was so terrible with girls romantically. I’d seen it shock Harry time and time again, the way some guys were with girls, and how they saw them. I’d also seen Harry change boys; sit them down and really talk with them about it, and helped those lads flourish, and I felt positive for a few brief moments that he was doing the same with Lewis. Usually it helped when the lads were drunk, but he seemed to be really accepting what Harry was saying, truly considering it all. “Maybe you’re reading into it a bit much.” Sara finally spoke up, directing her words to Harry. “I think… it's rarer than you think, the friendship you two have. It’s easy to… misconstrue things.” “He didn’t misconstrue it though.” Harry answered. “He’s seeing it exactly how it is, he’s just questioning it.” Even though he’d never told me directly, I knew that Sara had questioned our friendship when her and Harry first started talking. Ash had been the same with me. It was a topic that usually died pretty quickly, but over our four years of friendship, we’d had plenty of people question us. “I actually do volunteer work with a local party, and I get to meet new people all the time.” Lewis smiled. “So… I think it’s good I have the opportunity, y’know? The older you get, the less chances there are to form friendships and stuff, so… I know what you mean. Maybe it is weird, I dunno.” “You do work for a local party?” I questioned brightly, smiling alongside the query because at first I thought that was brilliant. “I do yeah! Just volunteer stuff, nothing too serious.” “Which party?” “Conservative.” I swear, I thought Harry was going to smack his head against the table on my behalf. That was all I needed to know. I wish I’d just got up and left rather than fallen into a political argument, but I couldn’t help myself. “Are you serious?” I cringed. “It’s a powerful party.” “Yeah, because they have the money to manipulate the media and they belittle working class people.” “That’s just not true. We-” “You’re burning the NHS to the ground and spending the taxpayer’s money on all the wrong things. Our emergency services are fucked because of you lot.” “You shouldn’t believe everything you read.” He huffed. “It isn’t stuff I’ve read, this is what people who work for the services that hold our country together are saying. This is what everyone with half a brain is aware of! You’re all… steal from the poor and give to the rich, and it’s just fucking wrong.” He started droning on and on about Tory policies and how they were the better party and how they got too much stick for no reason, and I found my eyes going to Harry, who was slyly trying to cut his hand across his throat, clearly agreeing with me that Lewis was a definite no-go, what with the inability to be friends with girls without being lectured about it, and on top of that being a fucking Tory. It meant, really, that I’d reached the end of yet another unsuccessful date, and this time I couldn’t even blame Harry for it. We let him go on and on about it, rolling our eyes and both knowing we were completely set in our ways, so his ramblings were falling on deaf ears, but we let him have his moment. He must have dragged on for a good five minutes of solid speaking, to which Harry just replied ‘okay’ and didn’t rise to him any further, which I think riled Lewis up even more. We all eventually decided against getting dessert.

Lewis and Sara both had work in the morning, so he’d offered her a lift back to her flat, and she’d taken it, leaving myself and Harry to walk home together. We were all very aware that nothing was going to come of the date. After the whole politics argument, barely any words had been shared between any of us. Someone with political opinions so far from my own was never going to work, and I imagined it was exactly the same for him, there was no point even pretending we were going to see each other again. Once we’d reached my building, I invited Harry up for a brew and a bitch. My place wasn’t much special. The building itself was an absolute eye sore; I’d once been letting myself into a building and heard a drunken bloke behind me question if it was brothel, so it definitely wasn’t easy on the eye, but that meant cheaper rent. However, my flat had everything I needed, really, three doors leading down a thin corridor on the right-hand side, the first being my tiny living room and kitchen that they’d just about squeezed in, my second a stick thin bathroom, and the third and final door leading to my bedroom. I’d done everything I could with it, making the place colourful and littered with posters and cushions and throws and basically an abundance of things that didn’t match in the slightest, but it made it feel homely. Harry immediately threw himself down onto the sofa as I went towards the kettle, checking it was sufficiently full before flicking it on. “Imagine being our age, in two-thousand and bloody eighteen, and being a Tory.” I huffed, still baffled by it. “It literally doesn’t make sense.” Harry groaned. “Also, what the fuck was that with him not having girl mates? Like… I think I got it more, when I was at uni, but a grown man not having any female friends is fucking weird.” “Agreed.” I prepared the brews for us as Harry got back to his feet momentarily to approach my LP system, flicking through my box of vinyl’s before settling on Dire Straits, and by the time he was sat back down, I was sitting myself next to him, passing over his tea. “Sara hates confrontation.” He huffed after thanking me for the drink. “I can tell she felt so awkward during that. I found it hard to… keep quiet though.” I lay my head back too, then turning it to the side and gazed at his profile, the way his eyes were closed, his jaw sharp, resting his mug on the arm of the chair and tapping his fingers against it to the beat of So Far Away. “Is Sara okay with how close we are?” “To be honest,” He swallowed. “I think… at first, she didn’t really get it, but I’ve spoke to her about it loads. And obviously, now she’s spent more time with you, and you two get on, so she’s chilled out about it. I don’t think she’d wanna spend time with you if she had a problem, and she’s always keen on seeing ya.” “That’s good.” I smiled. “Better than bloody Jess, eh?” “Shit. That was a nightmare.” He sniggered. A couple of years back, he’d met a girl who practically leapt on him. It was when he’d first cut his hair, and he’d been so worried about it and so uncomfortable with his new look, but then we went on a night out and he received as much, if not more, female attention than he’d ever had before. One of those girls was Jess, and she was so adamant on getting to know him and so infatuated him, even how awkward he was didn’t stop her from pinning him down. It only lasted around a month though, because she hated the two of us. She basically ended up giving him an ultimatum, me or her, and he’d thankfully chosen me. She just didn’t trust how much time we spent together. I could tell Sara wasn’t on that level, not even close, but I knew at the beginning of their relationship it would have been something she fretted over. Six months down the line, I was glad to hear those worries had passed. “I like it in a way, y’know?” He smiled, his eyes fluttering open. “That we have a friendship that… it’s so tight, that people don’t even… understand it. I’m not even sure it’s about gender, really. You’re my rock. Wouldn’t… trade what we have for anything. Sometimes… it makes sense to me that people don’t fully get it. I dunno if I know anyone else who has a friendship quite like ours.” “I guess not.” “We’re special, aren’t we, kid?” He turned to face me before saying that, the left-hand side of his lips lifting, winking sweetly. “If you say so.” I chuckled, rolling my eyes and turning away from him. We fell into a comfortable silence, and I could feel my eyes closing, genuinely exhausted by the evening. I didn’t want to let on how disappointed I was by the way the date had played out, but I knew that was useless, because Harry was bound to bring it up, and even if he didn’t, he could read me so well and look right through me. He knew it had bothered me. “Sorry tonight didn’t go well.” “Should be used to it by now,” I grumbled. “But it’s still shit.” “Mm.” “I just didn’t think it would be this fucking difficult. There’s fucking billions of people on this planet and I can’t find even one of them to love me.” I hadn’t ever been in love. I’d thought I loved Ash when we were together, but it was one of those relationships where I looked back on it and knew that wasn’t the case. Before that, I’d been in a two-year relationship that spanned from college and into my university days, but even that didn’t feel like real love in hindsight, and I’m sure he felt the same way. On top of that, I knew for a damn fact that Ash had never loved me. He’d never even managed to fake it to save my feelings. “Oi!” Harry scowled. “I bloody love you!” “You know what I mean.” “You have a lot of people who love you!” He argued. “You’re surrounded by people who think… you’re the best thing in the world. People feel lucky to have you around, and that’s fucking important. You might not have found… that kind of love, but you’ve got plenty of people who love you.” “Stop trying to think of things sensibly and just let me complain!” I tittered, lolling my head back and groaning. “You know I love a good whine, Harry.” He took a sip of his drink before placing his mug down on the floor, twisting his body so he could look directly at me, leaning my way. “M'being serious, Lona. I think you’re the fucking best, because you are the fucking best. When you meet the right person, you’ll know it. And I can tell you now, the right person for you is not a fucking Tory!” He gawped, and I giggled. “You cannot twist this into being disappointment. You don’t wanna get on with a lad like him anyway. Fuck it!” “That’s true.” “You should feel glad things didn’t go well. Better that, than be someone who… doesn’t know what they want, or settles for some dickhead. Be picky as fuck, it’s the best way!” I reached out and pinched his cheek, shooting him a sweet smile in an attempt to portray how grateful I was that he’d managed to change how I was feeling about the evening. “You always know the right thing to say, don’t you?” I muttered. “I’m very smooth.” He lifted his brows. “No you’re fucking not.” I chortled. He stuck his tongue out at me and then reached back from his tea before resting once again, and there was just something about him being there; almost as though he was in his own home. It didn’t feel like he had to leave. There wasn’t a single inch of his exterior or that suggested he was a guest. “How’re things with Sara?” I asked after a short while of no words being shared between us. “You were feeling pretty… weird, last week.” He finished his tea, cracking his neck before her answered me. “M'feeling alright, y’know.” He explained. “I know I’m just being stupid. I think I just… need to get over my own insecurities.” “I hope she smothers you with compliments.” “She does.” He smiled, wide and real and perfectly endearing. “It’s just me, and I know it is, and that’s what I find frustrating.” I’d spoken with Harry about it all before, and he’d explained why he felt he was the way he was. His father had left before he was even born, and he’d had to experience a few men falling in and out of his and his mother’s life since he was small. He’d seen his mother be heartbroken too many times. He placed women on a pedestal and had so many examples of how not to treat women, he cowered from them in the hope of not completely fucking up, in the hope of not being one of those men he’d seen too many of. Harry was intelligent enough to be aware that no matter how hard he tried, he would be a negative part of some people’s lives. Relationships fall apart, and things often get messy, and Harry was conscious of the fact that he would become a bitter or infuriating or painful memory for some people, and he hated that. He never wanted to hurt anyone, so he backed away from situations where he felt he had the power to do so. He'd barely ever given himself the chance to gain confidence in romantic situations, because it was always something he took steps back from. It was only around a year earlier when Harry declared this to me, drunk and vulnerable and sat with his back against the statue of The Beatles at the Pier Head, his spine resting against John Lennon’s legs, his head balanced against the bronze jacket slung over John’s arm. He’d had his eyes closed for most of the conversation, hiccupping sporadically, but he knew exactly what he was saying, making it clear that he had thought about this aspect of himself often, but maybe never voiced it. He'd gotten much better than he had been when he was younger, and I believed a lot of that was down to the dating, and simply allowing himself to open up to the idea of being with someone. Even so, there were still some things he was getting used to and wrapping his head around. “M'proud of you, y’know?” I smiled. “I know it’s still a bit weird for you, but you’re so much better with this stuff than you were when we first met.” “I’m just a growing boy.” He fluttered his lashes, his dimples digging into his cheeks, his attempts at innocence false but endearing. “Growing into a… wanker.” He merely scowled and shook his head as I placed my empty mug down on the floor and lay myself down across my miniature sofa, resting my feet upon his lap. I closed my eyes, trying my best not to drop off, but with Dire Straits still playing in the background and Harry gently smoothing his hand up and down my shin, it wasn’t an easy task. My eyes opened for a split second, seeing his slouched posture, his head back and his eyes closed. “I should probably go home.” He just about said. He never made it. The two of us fell asleep in that position, and even when I stirred in the middle of the night, Harry gently snoring with his hand still resting on my leg, I didn’t move, I just fell back to sleep, a minor smile sitting upon my lips.

#HAPPY SUNDAY #Here's some Harry and Bellona #IYS2 #In Your Splendour #1dff

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forkanna · 7 years

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Based mostly off the graphic novels but some stuff from the movie and game. There are other Kim/Knives fics but I haven't read them; I wanted to come at this completely based on the source material. Any similarities to those fics is purely coincidental.

Rated M for adult topics (including one brief not-quite-explicit flashback with a 17-year-old), and some sexual content in later chapters. You know, the L word. No, not "lesbian" — the OTHER L word: lesbians.

"... It's something else" - flyafar

I know this one kind of comes from nowhere, but I've actually been wanting to do something in the Pilgrimverse for a long time. Ever since I first saw the movie in theaters. Then a couple of weeks back, I was playing through the game again out of boredom (trying to get some elusive achievements) and I just felt this strong impulse to give Kim and Knives the ending they deserved.

If you haven't read the comics but HAVE seen the movie, I wouldn't be surprised if you view this as a crackship. It still kind of is in the comics to be honest! But don't worry, you don't have to read them to enjoy this fic; I'll cover what happened in later chapters. Plus a lot of little surprises that make up my take on them.

Hope you like this one! It's about medium-length for me, definitely no oneshot but in total it's not even as long as "Bind Us" is so far. And it's only getting started!

Jessex

[AO3 LINK]

CHAPTER ONE

And so, as our band of ragtag heroes exited from the Chaos Theater, Scott Pilgrim was reunited with his great love - well, other than himself. He and Ramona Flowers, the random American rollerblading groupie, went prancing off into Subspace together. Happily fucking ever after.

Both "fucking happily" and "happily fucking", to be honest.

What did I get? The same thing as usual. Nothing. Bitterness and emptiness. Well, I guess that's not completely accurate: Scott said he was sorry. Too little, too late, but hey… at least he tried. A for Effort. He gets Ramona, Stephen gets my old roommate, Wallace gets just about every piece of hot gay ass in Toronto besides Joseph and Stephen. Knives and Young Neil get each other, sort of, kind of. I guess. Who cares? And I'm left with a big bag of nothing.

I'm not Scott, obviously. I'm Kim. I play drums. That's all the introduction you get.

Fine, I'll be nice. You came here for this story, so I'll tell you the rest of the history first. Kim Pine. Red hair and freckles, pointless existence. Born and raised in Ontario, though I've skipped from town to town. Scorpio. My turn-ons are death and destruction, and long walks on the beach.

If you don't know any of the history, then you're probably better off. It's a long, sad story full of sighs and facepalms. But some of you probably have that morbid curiosity you can't shake, so unless you already know this and can skip it, or just care even less than me, here we go: I used to play drums for Sex Bob-omb with Scott and Stephen. Also of importance is the fact that Scott left a string of broken hearts in his wake a kilometer and a half long, with mine thrown in there somewhere. Just because he and I patched it up enough to be civil didn't mean we were "all good", but I sure as fuck wasn't going to be the one to explain it to the manchild. Anyway, we all thought for sure that Knives and Ramona were just going to be his latest casualties, or one of them would Yoko him into quitting the band. And we were right about that last part; the band fell apart, but at least not in a literal sense like The Clash At Demonhead, when their bassist was headbutted into coins and the drummer lost her cybernetic arm before disappearing completely. Not too long after the big showdown with Gideon at the Chaos, Ramona and Scott poofed into the ether and haven't been heard from since.

There, happy?

Anyway, this takes place a year after all that went down.

~ o ~

I don't even know why I was still in Toronto. After Sex Bob-omb exploded and Shatter Band shattered, there really wasn't much else for me to do. Boredom, maybe. At least Stephen was still around, making music with his boyfriend, but they didn't seem to need my drums anymore. Dynamite Headdy sounds better without me. Sure, there are days I still miss Sex Bob-omb. Not so much Shatter Band, which stank on ice. But the Bob-omb had potential, we just had Scott's lack of focus holding us back, and Stephen's too-much-focus sucking all the fun out of everything. So maybe, over the course of this paragraph, I talked myself out of missing either of those bands.

Anyway. Toronto, Delicious Cup.

Nobody wants to hear a drummer all by themselves. So I started doing this thing with Steph Nordegraf after she moved back to Toronto. Stephen introduced us; I'd met her through her brother Neil before though. It's… experimental and stupid, and I hate it. I'm on bongos while she sings and plays the zither. We sound like new age music being recorded by kindergartner, which is why we couldn't book any real coffee houses, like Second Cup or Aroma; only knockoffs like that one.

That's what we were doing in Delicious Cup the day my life stopped being pointless and colourless. So colourless that I didn't even fully realise it was summer until I saw Knives Chau walk in.

"What are you doing?" Steph hissed at me. Didn't even notice my bongos were on the floor until that point.

"What?"

"You went totally dead, like some kind of locust."

"Do locusts go dead? Is that their thing?"

"Just…" She sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose. "We'll take five."

Frowning up at her, I slipped my bongos into the backpack I normally kept them in. "Chill, Nordegraf. You're going to develop kidney stones."

Okay, so that wasn't really her fault; I was being my usual salty self to cover for the fact that I fucked up our set. Not that anyone in the coffee house was paying the slightest attention to the two weirdos who thought they were musicians; they were all chatting, drinking, and reading through magazines. When one of our ten-minute epics ended, one polite older woman clapped. That was it. We might as well have been ghosts for all the notice we got coming and going.

As I ditched her with the equipment and went up to the counter, slipping in behind Knives in line, I tried not to think too much. Sure, we had a thing once… it's barely worth mentioning. But yeah, it was oddly nice to see a familiar face. Especially with Scott and Ramona off in the ether somewhere.

She looked good. At least, I thought so; she stopped doing that thing where she dyed part of her hair, which I always thought was just a way to compete for Pilgrim's attention, anyway. And a year of college really seemed to have given her something… not that I could tell what it was, but something more. Her adorable face was turned mostly away from me, so I couldn't tell much else. Just that she was wearing clothes a little more grown up than when I last saw her, and that she didn't seem as nervously-excited. That's a good thing: I hate excitable people.

"Green milktea?" she asked when she got up to the counter.

"What… is that?" Julie asked her. "This is a coffee house, not a tea house." Typical Julie. Yeah, I knew the barista, but we don't really talk. She's even more unpleasant than I am.

"Oh… but you have green tea and chai tea on the menu. Right there."

Julie didn't even bother to look over her shoulder. "I think I would know the menu better than you would."

"But I'm serious, it's right-"

"Do you have a problem with the way this business operates? Are you blind or something?"

"No, I'm not blind," Knives said, slowly sounding a little less sure of herself. "My eyes work fine."

"Then why can't you read my lips? No. Milk. Tea."

This was going nowhere. Even though this wasn't how I wanted to reinitiate contact with either of them again, I strode up to the counter and stood next to Knives.

"If you have milk, and you have tea, you can make her fucking milktea. Besides, you know her, so stop being such a rotting tampon."

"What?" Knives breathed, taking an instinctive step away — probably just from my tone.

"Excuse me, carrot top?" Julie snapped. "You don't tell me how to-"

"And you don't own this café, Powers, even if you do seem to work in all of them. Just make the drink. I'll cover whatever extra you want to charge." Digging into my pocket for my meager amount of money that I own, I produced a couple of toonies. "Make it. Now."

"This isn't even enough for a normal cappuccino, or whatever a 'milktea' is supposed to be."

"She can pay for the actual tea herself; I'm just paying for your added mental energy, which you seem to be rationing very carefully due to a tremendous shortage."

By that point, Julie's glasses were literally steaming. Either from her face heating up with rage, or the coffee machines behind her. Knives had been shrinking away from the whole confrontation, but then she blinked a few times, leaning back toward us.

"Kim?"

My cheeks probably would have turned red at the way she breathed my name. What a dumb reaction. But I made myself focus on what I was doing, stepping forward to add another fiver atop the coins on the counter. "And this is for my espresso. Hurry it the fuck up or I'll do that ask-to-see-a-manager thing we all hate." My work done, I turned and went back over to Steph.

It only took her a minute or so to see that I was back without any drinks. "What happened to my soy latte?"

"Sorry…" All at once, I realised I forgot about that. Or about waiting around for my own drink, either. But she noticed I was out of sorts.

"What happened?"

"To what, your face? I've been wondering that for years."

"No, at the counter." She was used to my attitude by now, and could tell when I was deflecting. A skill I loathe in my friends, because it bypasses my defenses. "You look all shook up."

"Thanks, Elvis." Clearly, she wasn't going to let this go. "Okay… I ran into somebody. From the old days."

Her lip curled slightly. "From the Pilgrim Era, or like even earlier?" My face must have said it all because she winced. "Yikes…"

"I don't care," I told her flatly. "This doesn't matter. Tomorrow, I'm going to wake up and go back to No-Account, punch the clock, and stare into space for six hours until Comeau gets in. Probably drink a bunch of Coke and feel myself contracting diabetes."

"Why don't you just drink Coke Zero?"

My scowl said enough. Still, for good measure, I snapped, "Never… mention Coke Zero… in front of me."

"Okay, Hagrid," she snorted as she finished packing up and we headed for the door. Again, she doesn't respect my grumpiness properly. "But I hope you know this isn't the end of thi-"

Before we could escape Delicious Cup, a pair of crossed blades were blocking our path. Behind their gleaming steel was a pair of dark eyes, blazing with intensity.

"I can't let you leave."

To Be Continued…

#kim pine's precious little knives #scott pilgrim vs. the world #scott pilgrim #kim pine #knives chau #forkanna writes #forkanna the writer

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