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forabeatofadrum · 1 year

Note

You know what fuck it actually, answer all the writers asks that you haven’t already answered yet PLUS another #25 if you have already answered it bc you can be proud of multiple scenes HAPPY EL WOOWOO WEDNESDAY

I should've seen this coming. I am putting this under the cut because this got long. Again, I should’ve seen this coming.

I’ve already answered 5, 8, 9, 13, 18 and 25.

1) is there a story you’re holding off on writing for some reason?

I MEAN... look at my many, many WIPs. I think the main reason for holding off a fic is because I got stuck, or because I want to prioritise other fics. I’m trying to not take on new projects, but instead focus on older ones (famous last words, probably).

2) what work of yours, if any, are you the most embarrassed about existing?

Anything written pre-2015, unless I have rewritten them (like This Charming Man or the SBL/Glee crossover). That, except for JTWLYT, even rewritten it’s bad. I don’t mind, You gotta start somewhere, right? Because otherwise I don’t really mind any fics. Like, I wrote a Glee/Animal Crossing fic once and it slaps.

3) what order do you write in? front of book to back? chronological? favorite scenes first? something else?

Mostly chronological, but it doesn’t really matter. So yeah I write what I have in my mind. For example with Ljubim te, I of course knew there were going to be 24 chapters since it’s the Advent, so I plotted out a little bit what happens in all chapters and by now each chapter has at least something.

4) favorite character you’ve written

Jack motherfucking Zimmermann, even though I have abandoned my boy and I haven’t written proper Check, Please! fic in all of 2022. I want to finish two Zimbits WIPs this year, though. Maybe the attic vs. roaches debate breaching containment will bring me back to this fandom. Aly, what would you rather have? A person living in your attic, or 1000 roaches living in your attic?

6) something you would go back and change in your writing that it’s too late/complicated to change now

Oh I change things without shame. I do point it out in the author’s note, in case someone notices.

7) when asked, are you embarrassed or enthusiastic to tell people that you write?

This is a difficult question. WAIT NOT ALY THIS IS ME AFTER POSTONG THE ASK I FORGOT TO ANSWER THIS ONE I WILL DO THAT LARER CAUSE I NEED TO GO TP UNI NOW!!

OKAY ALY I AM BACK (and also hello to others!)

So, this is a difficult question because I have the Fear of Being Perceived by people I know IRL. Not necessarily because I think they will judge me, but this is just something I’ve ever had. This is also why I am not going to karaoke night tonight. As a result I do not tell people I write, but not because I am embarrassed. I have just always kept my online and offline lives separately, you know? And this has only grown over the years. I have, like, one person I know IRL follow my personal blog and I created this blog because I do not want him to see my stuff. It’s literally in the bio of this blog. This is also why my name isn’t on here, although I do not mind when people use it in asks or replies. It’s not foolproof, I am aware, but it’s how it is.

But I am also fucking proud of my work and I an enthusiastic. This is why I love ask games like this or communites on Discord. I put a lot of time and effort into my work so of course I love to blabber about it. The person I mentioned above? Yeah, he knows I write fic. But I made him promise to not go look for it. Now I did meet some people who unabashedly talk about what filth they post on AO3. And I told these people I write fic to. But I am always feeling that hesistant feeling. I told them vaguely about Bakery fic and So Much Better, but I am never going to send them the link so if they want to find it, they can, but I will not be the one giving my AO3 away. (Rip. I never kudo their fics either for this reason, cause my AO3 account will pop up).

Aka it is just kind of weird.

10) write in silence or with background noise? with people or alone?

I CAN NEVER WRITE WITH PEOPLE AROUND. This is why, when I visit my parents’ house for the weekend, I write less. I recently told Jenna (@thnxforknowingme, not Ushkowitz) that I am shook that she can write at work. I cannot relate.

I don’t like silence in general. I always have sound on, but it doesn’t really matter what. I am currently listening to The Last Five Years lockdown version, but I also just put on video essays that I have seen before, or gaming music, or YouTuber content. Only when I have a specific song/playlist for a fic, I tend to actively choose what I put on, like the playlist for River fic was on repeat during the writing. And Nothing Matters When We’re Dancing is my song for “damn Baz, you live like this”/Time After Time. That kind of stuff.

11) what aspect of your writing do you think has most improved since you started writing?

Uh. Everything. But I am also not too harsh on myself. I was 13. I am 24 now. And my English has improved. Fun fact, I did not know the difference between make out and break up for a very long time.

OH AND I LEARNED HOW TO DO PROPER PARAGRAPH BREAKS

12) your weaknesses as an author

Movements. Setting. That kind of stuff. When two people are in a scene and talk, I love the dialogue but I am constantly like “oh God, what else is going on in this scene?”

I am writing a scene for Ljubim te with Kurt and Sunil in a restaurant and I am constantly like “DON’T FORGET THEY NEED TO EAT!!!”

14) do you make playlists for your current wips?

Not right now. I don’t make playlists for my fics that often, unless I want to integrate the music into the fic (again, see River fic). Or I make a playlist AFTER I am done, like my Myosotis playlist.

15) why did you start writing?

Fanfiction? When I first read Harry Potter when I was around 11, but I used to write stories before that. Shout out to TEENZZONE and my first ever gay character that I made when I was 10 and then I got scared cause oooooh homosexuality scary!!! ooooh taboooo!!!! and erased it and made him marry a lovely woman named Daisy but then years later I was like “fuck it he’s bi then”

16) are there any characters who haunt you?

Oh, uh? The first ever gay now bi character from TEENZZONE I guess. Fuck, was Danny his name, or was Danny the guy who came before Daisy? Look, I was 10. Ik zat in groep 7, of misschien zelfs 6. It’s been 14 years.

17) if you could give your fledgling author self any advice, what would it be?

It doesn’t have to be perfect. I am not a published author. This is all for fun. Besides, I read a lot of fic that maybe aren’t “that good” in the eyes of whoever decides what’s good, but I still enjoy them and that’s what matters in the end. I write for me and me alone and hopefully people like it too and we will all have a banging time.

19) when it comes to more complicated narratives, how do you keep track of outlines, characters, development, timeline, ect.?

Not

Jk jk

I often have a little section in my doc with “Information”, like a timeline or people’s names or what is happening when. The one for Ljubim te has the names of my OCs and the street names of where Kurt and Blaine live. I am thinking of also making a timeline, because there are some time jumps between chapters, although I also try to point out what month it is in the chapter itself.

20) do you write in long sit-down sessions or in little spurts?

Depends on how inspired I am. I write when I have an idea. Sometimes things snowball from there, sometimes it’s to only add one line.

21) what do you think when you read over your older work?

Define older. As I said, everything before 2015 I pretend I do not see, but after that I actually reread a lot of my stuff. Hence the “I write for me and me alone” mentality. I reread Mendacious this week. And I haven’t read the Anyway series in years and I kind of want to.

22) are there any subjects that make you uncomfortable to write?

There are too many to list, but from the top of my head: non-con/dub-con, detailed slavery or kidnapping or something like that, graphic violence, MPREG, fic with one being a minor other an adult.

23) any obscure life experiences that you feel have helped your writing?

GIRL MY MAIN STARTING POINT FOR KLAINE FIC THESE DAYS IS “WHAT PART OF MY LIFE CAN I LIFT FROM??”

Mendacious: a conversation I had with one of my friends about internalised homophobia

River fic: lol (my broken friendship) (it’s almost Real Blaine’s birthday) (ah, then it will have been 4 years since I last saw him)

Ebb & Flow: my love for Splatoon 2

Bakery fic: me being obsessed with a documentary about rich people in Dubai

Ljubim te: I miss Ljubljana

So yeah, sometimes it influences the plot (Mendacious and River fic) and sometimes it is more a starting point for me to build upon, but it’s my liiiiiiiife it’s not or neverrrrrr-

Also, okay, I am writing this Snowbaz fic called Just Some Guy from an outsider POV and that is coming from me very much believing that Baz is not that hot. Simon is just in love with him. Sorry Baz fans.

24) have you ever become an expert on something you previously knew nothing about, in order to better a scene or a story?

Expert? I wouldn’t say that, but I do learn about obscure things like Broadway orchestra subbing. And of course I had that entire chapter about neurobiology in Myosotis sylvatica. But I can’t say I am an expert on things.

25) copy/paste a few sentences or a short paragraph that you’re particularly proud of

You can get some All the pretty things lore as a treat.

“As if in every lifetime you and I have lived, we’ve chosen to come back and find each other and fall in love all over again, over and over for all of eternity. And I just feel so lucky that I found you so soon in this lifetime because all I want to do, all I’ve ever wanted to do is spend my life loving you.”

This is how All the pretty things ends. Obviously it is not my writing. This is a direct quote from Glee. I may hate the proposal but they went hard with the speech. But I knew I needed to end the fic with this quote, since it actually inspired the entire premise of the fic. They hop through all these dimensions and in every one of them they find each other to go on to the next. And they grow stronger in the process. I do not know if this fic would be this fic without this quote.

For my own writing, I am really happy with the “emotional climax” of Paradiso 1 and Time After Time, but shhhhh spoilers, you gotta read that for yourself. But a shareable part that I am admittedly obessed with is from The Naked Truth:

We’re acting like a bunch of hormonal teenagers, but I don’t care. We’re high on energy and love. The moment we get to my flat and I close the door behind us, I press him against it and he laughs.

Again, there’s so much laughter.

Is this what love is like? Endless exuberant laughter? I revel in the sound of his joy.

I wrote this because I used “he laughs” or “I laugh” or “we laugh” A LOT in this fic up to the point that it was making me wonder if it’s bad writing, so I just put it in the story. Hooray.

ALY I FUCKING DID IT.

#ask #blurglesmurfklaine

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emialawliet · 3 years

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The mysteries of Wonder Egg Priority and some interesting things I found in it

Oh hi Acca. Wait is that a crack on your right lens?

One of the great things about WEP is that it is an original anime wherein we do not have any source material to check on its story thus we do not have a clue on what’s gonna happen next besides the things that happen in each episode. These are one of those animes which are fun to observe.

Plot Summary: Ai scores a “Wonder Egg” from a gachapon machine at a deserted arcade. But now when Ai falls asleep a girl emerges from her Wonder Egg, the worlds of dreams and reality begin to collide. And it’s all connected.

From the first episode, we have been given a huge amount of symbolism. Aside from the main subject of bullying and Ai’s guilt by pretending not to see it that cost her bestfriend’s life, there are a lot of other things that I noticed that seem to have a deeper meaning behind them or could be a hint to something. I’ll list these things one by one from the first 2 episodes..

This post is going to be quite a long one, so I’ll keep it minimal enough to just tickle your thoughts. And believe me, things got clearer to me as I am making this post.

The anime starts in a sort of a dream world.. or is it?

1) The firefly

In some cultures firefly may not have a positive reputation. But in Japan, where they are called "hotaru," they are beloved – a metaphor for passionate love in poetry since Man'you-shu (the 8th century anthology). -Namiko Abe @ thoughtco.com

Ai can be seen looking at a dead firefly. She seems caring for it and she even gave it a proper burial. Could this symbolize someone dear to her? Now let’s proceed..

2) person in the car

Is this a clue? I’ll remember that hair for some reason..

3) Ai’s conversation with the firefly and the Special Gacha Machine

firefly: What are you doing in a place like this?

Ai: Walking.

F: This late at night?

After burying the firefly, it suddenly came out the soil and spoke to Ai with a male voice. Their conversation seems to me like a suspicious man talking to an innocent girl in a place where a young one like her isn’t supposed to be..

F: The first time’s free. Next time bring your wallet.

This is one of the things commonly used to convince someone to try something they are usually not willing to for the first time. Like a free trial..

..and was then led somewhere underground where the “Special Gacha Machine” is located.

That’s a lotta eggs. What could this underground facility be? And here’s the Gacha Machine:

So that’s the thing in the poster.

Weird huh? But the next morning, Ai wakes up with the egg beside her..

4) The dream

..Or is it not entirely a dream? I mean the egg appearing beside her is one thing although it could be that the egg is just in her mind. But the thing that complicates things is the injuries she gets in real life, to the point where she and even Neiru needs to get hospitalized.

Ai asked why this (the whole dream she’s in) is happening to her and this is what Kurumi said:

“Nothing costs more than a free gift huh?” Indeed, life is priceless. But in this story, it is only free the first time. The second night, Ai paid a huge price. Could those injuries mean this?

“This is a dream to you, but to me it is reality.” -Kurumi Saijo

Ai will not die in this dream, as long as her eyes and heart are okay.

Did she really sneak at night twice? Since getting the Wonder Egg to saving Kurumi? In this scene we also see the teacher in full for the first time and I dunno about you guys but I think that hair is familiar..

The firefly even asked her this. We’ve seen Ai sneaking out at night but the things that follow are strange enough to happen in real life. Is it possible that what we're seeing is a mixture of Ai’s imagination and reality?

Something caused these injuries. Or is it Ai herself? Let us find out..

After saving Kurumi, a mysterious male voice said “Too bad, you only get saved. But you have to cheer up if you want your bestfriend back.”

She then asked this:

..but got no clear response. Of course we know the answer, Koito is not going back to life. but why does the voice demand her to do that? Not even the firefly could answer her clearly. But she continued to believe that this will get her bestfriend back.

“If you can’t protect them, you won’t make it either.” -Firefly

“There’s no point going to save someone if she gets herself killed.” -Ura-Acca

Does they mean the guilt might kill her too? Does this imply suicide? Could this be a hint where Ai gets her injuries?

And Neiru asked her who she is fighting for.. Ai firmly said it was for Koito.

“You don’t like yourself now, so you go. You want to change the self you hate.” Well this could also be true for herself despite saying it’s for her sister whom she let die. How? We’ll soon know more about this I guess.. At the moment, we know that Neiru loves her current self.

Ai hates herself for betraying her bestfriend. The first friend she ever had.

Koito probably asked her to film the bullying as evidence, but Ai was too scared of being left out. She wasn’t able to get a good shot, but Koito only smiled at her and knew she did her best.

5) The egg

From the title itself, the egg is a very prominent object in this anime. We still do not have a clear answer as to what it really represents, but according to the speaking firefly and Kurumi, it contains what a person wants the most, and in Ai’s case, it is a friend. She denies this to both of them but they both know it is the truth.

The eggs appear in different colors, with letters, numbers and symbols printed on them. Once cracked, it reveals a person. This is where we can relate the egg’s symbolism of life and creation.

A mysterious male voice angrily told Ai to break the egg, and this is what he said afterwards:

Ai is “good” at it, huh. What could he probably mean I wonder..

It was later revealed that Kurumi is another sculpture, a “captured maiden” in a different world like Ai’s bestfriend Koito. This confirms that Kurumi is also dead, which leads me to think that the eggs are the souls of those who died from suicide or abuse.

They couldn’t pass on unless the guilt of their friends stop holding them back. And this I think is also what’s happening to our MC Ai and Koito’s soul.

6) Kurumi Saijo

She wears a different uniform than Ai’s. A victim of bullying by 3 girls.

Like Ai, she also said she did not have any friends, just superficial ones.

And this could be hinting at the reason why she was bullied by those girls. She does have the looks. But these looks might be the reason why she had no real friends. And a boyfriend of this fake friend probably liked her and broke up with her fake friend which started the bullying. I smell jealousy.

In this dream, she found her resolve while saving Kurumi.

I gotta say though, the animation is impressive from start to finish. That button popping off has me goin “whoa they even thought of adding that bit.” And the explosion that followed.. oof.

After being saved by Ai, she asked Ai to not forget her and disappeared into dust. Was Kurumi able to finally pass on?

) Minami Suzuhara

Seriously, in this anime, adorable girls have no friends.

Damn her “trauma” is a ridiculous boob monster.

She could have died due to over fatigue and stress from her coach’s verbal abuse.

Ai had another injury the following day.

) Ai’s enemies

The Seenoevils, a disorderly mob. In real life, they are the ones that pretend not to see the bullying, letting it happen and thus contribute to the damage being dealt to thee victim. And the form of the egg’s “traumas”, the Wonder Killer, which are the main cause who led the victims to their deaths. In the dream world, they do not attack Ai. But they can damage her, only for the effects to appear outside the dream.

Ai uses Kurumi’s pen as her first weapon, and Minami’s ribbon wand as the second.

Like Kurumi, after she was saved she also asked Ai to remember her before disappearing into dust.

) The teacher

Ai’s teacher seems really nice, going as far as to visit her and deliver the week’s print outs to their home. Ai must not be attending school for weeks..

We now know that Ai’s location is nearby their teacher’s home. Could he be the guy in the car then? We don’t have enough evidence of that as of yet.

In the second episode, Ai’s teacher visited again.

Now we see his face. He’s got a mole huh.

But why this question teach?

So that’s his name. And why the special treatment?

Here we see him walk behind Koito and she follows..

) Acca & Ura-Akka

The most intriguing thing I found in the first ep..

After discovering the truth about Kurumi, Ai was led to the end of the underground tunnel and found these two strange dolls playing Go, a japanese traditional board game. One looks like a professional, and the other just casual. They introduced themselves as Acca and Ura-Acca.

Judging by that definition, these two dolls could be the same person. Let’s watch out for that.. Who could this person be? And what is his connection to Ai?

“Haste makes waste.” These two are worried about Neiru. They strongly advise on taking the process slow or else she might die. Is this person a therapist?

) Neiru Aonuma

Did I read that right.. VICE PRESIDENT?? I get the feeling her sister died caused by neglect from their parents because they were more focused on this Neiru who “loves herself”. She also seems to me like a foreigner. She speaks english quite well and we see the mom with a nice cute afro.

She was too greedy to get multiple eggs at once. She could have fought through an intense battle. Probably why she was put in the intensive care unit.

She also does not know the fun of being in a friendship. But then she agrees on being friends with AI :) I am glad how Ai is starting to change too.

I am looking forward for these two’s friendship <3

And that’s about all the curious things I’ve gathered in the first 2 episodes.

I am definitely going to continue watching this series and witness the truth unfold. Until the next egg time!

#wonder egg priority

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ratsoh-writes · 3 years

Text

My curiosity got me, so here is my submission for a match up. Sorry it’s so long! I look forward to seeing your reasoning.

PERSONALITY TRAITS:

MOM FRIEND: I’m the friend that is almost over prepared for any situation and is protective, usually keeping others out of too much trouble or danger, but not stopping them from doing that stupid thing. Some people will only learn from doing it and so long as it won’t seriously injure or kill them, go for it. And I mean I am seriously prepared for most situations: I have fluffy throw blankets and pillows in my car for those who get cold, extra towels just in case we somehow get wet, umbrellas/ponchos for those who need one, snacks/water just in case someone gets hungry/thirsty, first aid kit for small injuries, etc. Ironically, I am the only one without a kid so far.

Extension of this would be my habit to act as the friend “nurse.” Willing to spend hours taking care of a friend who isn’t feeling well and give platonic cuddles if needed.

Another extension of this is my need to feed anyone who comes over. I think my love language is acts of service after typing all this.

I’M LISTENING: Always willing to offer an ear, even if I don’t believe I can council you. Plus, for some reason, people just end up splurging life stories or something that is bothering them to me. My life is mostly spent as that Naruto meme: “I have no clue what is going on, but I’ll pretend that I do.” But I’m responsible about it, I won’t offer advice I’m not sure about and will usually refer you to someone else I feel is up to the task.

PATIENT: Earned after years in customer service dealing with toddlers disguised as customers and also with friends who far exceed my energy levels. It takes a good bit to anger me or very specific things to set me off, such as when I have asked you to please stop bringing up that stressful memory of mine again and again.

I am told I am terrifying when I’m actually pissed. Most times I don’t remember much when I actually snap, just that it happened, but details are fuzzy.

CHILL: My counselor once told me if I “Was any more laid back, I’d be on her floor.” And to a point, she is correct. My house was on fire and my reaction wasn’t panic at the time, it was this odd calm that even when I reported the fire to my sister and authorities, they didn’t believe me until I showed them said fire. I am reserved with those I don’t know well or are not comfortable around. Once I trust you or you get me on a topic I love, I’m surprisingly passionate and animated.

I feel this fits under here, but I also tend to do things at my own pace. And not much can change that pace, but I will get what I set out to do done.

WHY ME?: Too many people tell me I’m a natural leader, even got awards for it, but I never volunteer or want to be the leader in anything. Usually, I just end up in that role somehow, some way. Most times because I hate disorganized messes and those times the people I am with have trouble making concrete decisions and need some guidance to work out what they really want to do or the pressure to actually make a decision. I may be an unwilling leader, but I will step up if needed.

WHIMSICAL: Sarcasm, dry and sometimes cheesy humour, and an attitude to boot, but it’s rarely to be mean. Most times it is me being playful and if I’m teasing you, that usually is a sign I like you and enjoy your company. Plus, sometimes people need a little laugh or a spark of different emotion to get them out of a funk.

INTEGRITY: I could absolutely despise someone, but like hell I’m going watch them suffer. In the same sense, if I take a job, I will do it right and not half ass it. And far too many times I’ve had to step in and explain certain concepts in order to disperse negativity or help others see from another perspective to avoid adversity.

CUDDLE BUG: With people I am comfortable with, I am a cuddly person and do not mind a lot of skinship. I am used to friends hanging all over me. Plus, sometimes I just want to curl up someone as well.

STRENGTHS:

Observant

Good communication skills & honest

Responsible & reliable

Full Size Human Heater. I am ridiculously warm and always putting off heat. Friends and coworkers alike use me as a portable heater.

Surprisingly good at being sly and collecting information if needed, like getting a shoe or ring size without tipping the person off it’s for a gift. If they manage to call it, I always fess up and playfully make a fuss they ruined the surprise.

WEAKNESSES:

Terrible at lying, so I tend to simply keep my mouth shut instead

Willfully oblivious to flirting and absolute flustered mess once I am forced to recognize said flirting

Vast open waters terrify me

Tendency to keep my troubles to myself and try to solve problems on my own (don’t want to be a burden)

Can become despondent if I feel useless at times

HOBBIES:

ART: I’ve dabbled in several different medias, but my favorite is just a pencil or pen and any paper I can get my hands on. I love drawing figures in dynamic poses. Second favorite is sculptures built from wire.

COSTUMES: I love Halloween, since it is the perfect excuse to make and wear my homemade costumes. It also lets me challenge myself by making more complicated pieces like hooves, horns, and even chain mail.

BAKING/COOKING/CANDY MAKING: I’m the cook in the house and I love it. Seeing people enjoy my food is my favorite part. Just don’t ask me for a recipe, I literally don’t have any and I won’t remember what I did.

ORGANIZING/CLEANING: I love puzzle games like Tetris and Catherine, and I love a challenge. Combine the two by having me organize and rearrange a space to make it work and I am in heaven.

STORYTELLING: When a story needs to be told, I am the one asked to tell it. Specifically I have such an entertaining way of telling it according to others. Animated and colorful language, plus a few pit stops along the way with some side stories.

PET PEEVES:

CONTRARY: Do not tell me to do something while I am doing it. That will kill any motivation I had to do it.

BACKHANDED COMPLIMENTS: It is possible to compliment someone without insulting them or others at the same time. It just makes the compliment feel empty and negative. And I tend to just hum and not reward that behaviour.

TOO MUCH ATTENTION: I don’t mind attention… from people I trust and are comfortable with. Feel free to cuddle and coddle away. But vast amounts of attention from those I feel are strangers or acquaintances will unnerve me (I have literally left functions immediately where I walked in and was bombarded with shouts and attention aimed at me-sensory overload I guess).

ODD HABITS:

NESTING: No, I don’t think I have enough blankets and pillows. Yes, the giant stuffed animal is needed and his name is Snuffie.

CRUSH ME: I’m serious, some days I need one of my friends or my bf to just lay all their dead weight on top of me. It’s just oddly therapeutic.

NO, I’M NOT PREGNANT: Just cause I ate that jar of olives in one sitting or suddenly was craving jalapeno juice and crushed ramen noodles. There are never enough pickles and yes, I am determined to try every kind–I may have a vinegar addiction.

IRONY: I bake some of the tastiest, sweetest desserts and make pralines and caramels, YET I myself do not favor sweet things.

HANDS: One thing I tended to do with nearly every boyfriend and guy friend I had was play with their hands and put their hands on my face/head. I lived for being pet and having people play with my hair.

NONVERBAL MOMENTS: Sometimes words are just too much, so I instead make sounds. Can be anywhere from a growl to a cat like noise, or the reliable “Nyeh.”

NO NOs:

I think I listed a few as I went through everything else, but ignoring boundaries is the main one. If I tell you I’m not comfortable with something, do not make me repeat myself. And usually that something is given a pass the first few times it is done before I say something and explain why I’m not comfortable with it.

Example: I have thick, curly hair, a product of my mixed heritage. Well, sometimes I like to straighten it and I did just that one day. Well, a coworker decided to make a backhanded compliment, stating I should stick to what works: straight hair over my natural hair. I had gotten on him about it, but I decided to vent to a friend about what happened as well. She proceeded to constantly repeat those hurtful words and while I knew she meant it playfully during those times, I had to stop her and sit her down, explain I don’t find it funny cause the words are linked to a hurtful, possibly racist memory that I didn’t want brought up again and again. Thankfully she understood and stopped. So, I don’t snap immediately and I understand sometimes a sit down needs to be done.

Ok first of all I gotta say that I absolutely loved reading your matchup!!! It’s so well organized, detailed, and the descriptions are pretty creative!!! Do you do any writing yourself, because you should!!! alright, geek out moment over.

i’ve got three guys you’re perfect for, but let’s go for the obvious one. HONEY!!

You’ve checked off everything on honey’s list: caring, organized, laid back, and good for cuddling. Now here’s what he has to offer to the table: he will cuddle you back. This guy is the ultimate cuddle slut. You’ll never feel unloved with him. Honey is also a very thoughtful and appreciative guy. He likes caring for his partners. You may be the mom friend, but he’ll do his best to return that love as well.

Honey is a little awkward, but he’s also sensitive and empathetic to how others feel. If he puts his foot in his mouth, just tell him and he’ll never bring it up again. Plus this guy is just so honest and genuine that backhanded compliments aren't really a thing with him.

Also you like costumes!!! He’s always wanted to try cosplay or theatre. You just might be the person to give him the courage to finally stick to one.

dating honey includes:

cuddles upon heaps of soft things. He has his own collections of ridiculously soft blankets and pillows that he’ll happily add to your collection. Honey is also a master at pillow forts.

honey is a good listener. He’ll be happy to just sit back and enjoy the stories you tell. There is start though, who is also the storyteller of the underswap home. Any funny story you give about your time together will be rewarded by star with a funny story from his and honey’s childhood, much to honey’s embarrassment

if you don't really like sweet things but love baking them, then honey and star will happily finish them for you. People are usually surprised about how just how much skeleton monsters can pack away.

he’s a picky eater and will give you the wtf face when you fufil your weird cravings though lol

Oh! Also if you’re wondering, the other two would’ve been either oak or coffee

#undertale imagines #underswap #matchups #submission

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bladekindeyewear · 4 years

Text

HS^2 bloggin’ mainline 2020-04-02

Alright I’ll fix the broken images later right now lets goooooo read the updaaaate I’ve been only spoiled on the chapter title

I don’t even wanna guess. Jake? This makes me think of Jake for some reason, even though that doesn’t make much se-- oh right the Vriskas are locked in a school closet with a dead clown.

> CHAPTER 7. Distress Call From the Closet

Yep.

Also, this is how a car design looks when it was invented to have its first appearance be it flying with a human named Tavros looking out from an open side door.

(I’m not ENTIRELY against designing something for its immediate-art-use-purpose first and functional or historical-origination thought later, but usually when you make it that obvious that that’s what your doing it’s best to make that fact funny. Like the Conveniently Shaped Lamp.)

Also I appreciate this using of Candy as kind of more lighthearted breaks in the action?

> (==>)

I thoguht that protruding fang (?) was drool for a second and wondered what the fuck they were up to in this closet all of a sudden.

Vriska, thriving on it, has not felt so decadently alive in a very long time. Tavros has never in his tragic existence felt so close to death, which is surprising to him.

Vrissy is trying her best not to grapple with any cosmic truths at the moment, since she’s getting a phone call in the middle of hiding for her life.

Vrissy’s implied to be somewhere in-between all that by this joke. I bet she’ll be comparing herself to Vriska and Tavros alike throughout this mess, wondering where on the spectrum she lands and being ashamed of it AND both of them regardless. Vriska Original had a ghost version who went on a fair bit of a Page dress-up thing and personality shift, so maybe we could expect Vrissy to struggle with being caught in the middle of the scales... or does that qualify as overthinking it classpectways?

VRISSY: Yeah Harry I would say we are Extremely Aware of the Situ8ion. VRISSY: As it Unfolded the fuck all around us.

Good Christ, Vrissy’s selectively-capitalized Kanaya-isms continue to be cute.

Oh, he’s on speakerphone.

> (==>)

Yep, telling Rose and Kanaya would be the smart thing to do, but it isn’t the Them thing to do.

--ROXY’S PLACE?!?? Hoo boy. On the other hand, though, we get more Roxy, so it evens out.

Also, I like how Harry Anderson has to spell out Harry Anderson’s entire name for his Harry Anderson chat tag every single time. Harry Anderson.

> (==>)

Part of the reason, Tavros thinks, that he’s been so game to continue on with the worst plan anyone has ever concocted, is that the more bullshit they endure, the longer they can put off actually doing anything that matters.

If he’s getting sprayed with a sprinkler and getting clown feet in his face, it’s a farce. It can’t hurt him. But if they get to the part where he’s shoving the uncooperative weight of his uncle’s corpse in an incinerator, he will stop floating in protective semi-consciousness above his body and it will all be real.

Ouch.

Can’t one of you assholes just captchalogue him? Or did you leave all the appropriate-strength moduses at home? Even you Vriska??

Oh, right. Everyone knows and you can just leave him here. Good call. I mean you don’t really have to worry about forensic evidence with the pictures circulating.

> (==>)

VRISKA: 8ye 8itch.

Oooh! That feels satisfying! Yeah, tell off Gamzee’s corpse!

...Wait.

If they just leave Gamzee there, Jane can revive him, can’t she.

Fuck. Maybe it’s up to Jake to try and stop that.

> (==>)

Karkat and Meenah resistance-time, then, with them presumably hearing about this development on the internet. Wow, Meenah’s horns are getting long fast. Plus a hint more of her grown-up self’s height. I didn’t think she’d keep maturing so fast with her absurd lifespan ahead of her.

Oh shit, I didn’t see at first--

Right, Candy might still be lighthearted compared to the broader plot just due to lowered stakes, but it’s still the Carpet-Bombing-and-War-Filled Shituniverse.

Trolls are made for the battlefield.

From the moment a troll oozes out of the mother grub’s pulsating sphincter, through the trials of the brooding caverns, across the brutal day to day slog of Alternian society, all the way to their Ordeals, to the sucking void of space. They are bred for nothing but endless war.

But Commander Vantas...Commander Vantas is different.

Is... is Meenah narrating right now? Because fuck.

Or so all the pamphlets say.

The actual Commander Vantas has blisters on his heel and has been taking pot-shots at scouting drones for the last six hours. He could use a bath, honestly.

Or is this one of the trolls on the side narrating who’s kind of internalized the stories of trolls’ prior warlike nature?

> (==>)

MEENAH: yo nubs is that u MEENAH: pretty rank KARKAT: OH MY GOD. KARKAT: I FLATLY REFUSE TO BELIEVE THAT YOU CAN SMELL MY NATURAL MUSK OVER THE STENCH OF BLOOD AND BURNING FLESH.

I guess it probably was Meenah narrating, then. Unless it’s a really biased alt!Callie doing the talking.

MEENAH: didnt i warn u bout thinking tho? KARKAT: GOD DAMMIT MEENAH, DON’T MEME AT ME.

I don’t know what meme this is and I really don’t want to know.

They have had this argument more than once. In fact, both of them could play either side of it. Karkat has done his time in the field, of course, leading small guerilla operations to free prisoners and sabotage Crocker’s supply chains, but Meenah and the rest of the council is right. Which is why he’s here, instead of at the front lines with his rebels, where he belongs.

His true value is his face. His symbology. At the end of the day, he is a fucking ad campaign.

...is KARKAT narrating here???

SWIFER: boss check the news!

Oh shit, right, Swifer is in the resistance in Candy instead of just a breeding assistant in Meat as the bonuses remind us.

KARKAT: OH FUCK. MEENAH: what KARKAT: JESUS CHRIST. MEENAH: nubs i swear 2 god KARKAT: IT’S GAMZEE. KARKAT: HE’S DEAD. MEENAH: oh MEENAH: well shit KARKAT: I CAN’T FUCKING BELIEVE THIS. MEENAH: u okay KARKAT: NO!

Huh. Them’s some complicated feelings that could fall in basically all directions at once.

Also, I can’t believe Karkat has hung around humans enough to fully internalize the full-throated exclamation “JESUS CHRIST”, which wouldn’t even really be a thing on Earth C with people who aren’t from Earths B or A.

MEENAH: u outlawed fishpuns i gotta make my own fun

How could you, Karkat.

KARKAT: AND I GUESS IF YOU CALL AN OBSCENELY PUBLIC PALE ACT, PERFORMED IN A FUGUE OF DESPERATE PANIC INTENDED TO PREVENT HIM FROM MURDERING ALL OF MY FRIENDS INSTEAD OF JUST HALF OF THEM “A THING”. KARKAT: THEN YES, I GUESS WE HAD A THING. KARKAT: BUT IF YOU’RE ASKING ME IF I’M SAD THAT HE’S DEAD? KARKAT: ABSOLUTELY THE FUCK NOT.

Okay, I’d hoped not, good...

KARKAT: THAT’S NOT WHY I’M SAYING FUCK A BUNCH OF TIMES. MEENAH: u need a reason to say fuck a buncha times KARKAT: SHUT UP. KARKAT: LOOK AT THE PICTURE.

--Right! That’s a good reason to not be okay.

KARKAT: I DON’T THINK SO? I CAN’T SEE HER EYES IN THIS PICTURE, BUT SHE’S COVERED IN BLOOD, AND SHE’S CARRYING GAMZEE, SO SHE’S CORPOREAL AT LEAST.

I love this form of analysis somehow.

KARKAT: OKAY...HERE. OH. OF COURSE. CROCKER IS CLAIMING HER SON WAS KIDNAPPED AND FORCED TO PARTICIPATE. KARKAT: AND THEY’VE NAMED ME AS THE MASTERMIND. MEENAH: well we woulda taken credit for it anyway so this saves us the time MEENAH: thanks jane owe u one

Meenah isn’t the “concerned” type. Lemonade out of lemons.

> (==>)

That middle tweet is my favorite.

Oh dear, “#GamzeeAnon”...

KARKAT: SHIT. OF COURSE THIS WOULD HAVE TO DO WITH FUCKING SERKET. KARKAT: LITERAL MONTHS OF PLANNING, HOURS AND HOURS OF LOGISTICS, AND ALL OF IT GOES UP IN SMOKE BECAUSE OF ONE SPIDERY ASSHOLE. KARKAT: SHE *WOULD* FIND SOME WAY TO WRECK MY SHIT FROM BEYOND THE GRAVE.

indisputable

KARKAT: NOW? KARKAT: NOW WE PIVOT FROM THE SUBLIME TO THE RIDICULOUS.

Um...

What does that mean?

I’m having a lot of trouble not only understanding the basic meaning of what he’s saying, here, but understanding why KARKAT of all people would employ it.

......it’s a meme, isn’t it. Gotta be.

> (==>)

(Ooh, an eyepatch designed to invoke a Strider-shade. Nice.)

KARKAT: I NEED TO TALK TO EGBERT.

But....... why??

> (==>)

Oh right, cause his son’s girlfriend is involved.

> (==>)

Oh my goooood what a pair of John and Roxy caaaars! :D

He is too busy with these mental gymnastics to notice his father’s car parked outside.

Ah right. John’s... not on the best terms with him, I recall that.

> (==>)

Ohhhh myyyy goooood what an image!!!

John, Roxy, and Harry Anderson proceed to have the tail end of a conversation they had before, in another medium.

What the fuck!? Harry had that conversation WHILE this dead body situation was going on?! Let me reread that linked bit...

(And she has such a somber smile on her face, but given the conversation content it’s not surprising.)

Harry Anderson looks at the two of them all teary and laughing and hikes his bag higher on his shoulder, shifting his weight. Roxy sees a muscle tighten in his jaw. Her beautiful, smart boy. She wants to run over and hug him, to protect him from the possibility of pain at talking to his father, but she doesn’t. She knows how much he’s wanted this, no matter how much he jokes about it.

She looks back at John, and sees her own awe mirrored in his face. She wills him not to cry, not to fall back on his self-imposed suffering and blame loop. Something about the last hour must have done the trick, though. John stands up, brushes his hands on his jeans, and walks, back straight, toward his son.

JOHN: hey harry anderson. JOHN: it’s really, really good to see you. JOHN: do you wanna go for a drive?

The muscle in Harry Anderson’s jaw clenches a few more times, but when he smiles, it is genuine.

HARRY ANDERSON: yeah, dad. HARRY ANDERSON: that could be cool.

Oh son of a bitch. Well isn’t that entertaining. Harry you’re just going to ditch your friends for I’m kidding, this is life fulfillment you’re aiming for, of COURSE you’re going to agree. (Too bad bringing the current situation in is gonna throw a wrench in things.)

> (==>)

Oh right, that means more of THIS Vriska and THIS John. They’ve had a good start talking already, I wonder what more they can learn from each other.

HARRY ANDERSON: but no worries, i asked my mom to pick me up some snacks so she’ll leave to go to the store in a sec. HARRY ANDERSON: just sneak in after she leaves and hide in my room, and i’ll be back in a bit.

Harry you enormous shortsighted asshole. And John’s about to learn all this from Karkat over the phone to blow his cover.

> (==>)

aaaaa roxy art i cannot :D

Wonder if her stealthiness attunement is gonna catch them in the act?

> (==>)

From this jealousy bit, I wonder to what degree Earth C humans are used to Troll quadrants and their various interplay mores.

> (Room: Examine yourself.)

Oh, a proper room introduction for Harry Anderson! Very fashion-focused, very liking the spotlight--

Oh wait, shit. This is traditionally where classpect associations are hinted more obviously than anywhere else. Time to stop holding back on the classpect stuff and take in every fucking word with capital-C Classpect fully in mind.

A bedroom stands empty. There is no boy standing in this bedroom, or indeed anyone else. However, if the boy whose bedroom it was were here, one might remark that his name was HARRY ANDERSON.

And FUCK, one might say, does he like MUSICAL THEATER.

Spotlight, definitely. But is it for the attention? The possibilities? The acting?

He has been in his fair share of school plays, but he has LOFTY ASPIRATIONS to STAR in bigger and better productions. He especially appreciates modern MUSICAL REMAKES of classic OLD EARTH MOVIES. It's a craze that not everyone is happy about, but in the absent boy they have found a DEVOTED FAN. There is also just enough overlap between his taste and his father’s to allow for SOMEWHAT STILTED CONVERSATIONAL BONDING from time to time.

Hmmmm. Is it about the majesty of important works of media (I see “Pokémon” and “Alien vs Predator” up there...), or is it about the fact that they’re remakes of past works? Those are a lot of awards and stage lights now that I zoom in to look... and hats... hats could be important......

The boy who is not yet here has also been known to dabble in ACCESSORIZATION. He could be described as a COBBLER ASPIRANT, a NEOPHYTE MILLINER, or even a BIT OF A WHIZZ WITH A NEEDLE AND THREAD.

Oh, interesting! Not just putting out different outfits, but making them? And Milliner is hat-specific creation...

His mother got him his first SEWING MACHINE when he was 10, to keep him from using hers all the time. His looks are HAND-CRAFTED, often IMITATED, but never DUPLICATED.

Space is obviously possible from sewing, but-- A focus on uniqueness!!! The broader theme is getting VERY specific. You might feel where I’m leaning already.

His COSTUMES appear in various AMATEUR PRODUCTIONS, the devising of which takes up most of his FREE TIME. His friends are usually LESS APPRECIATIVE of his attempts to dress them up than he would like, though.

Holy fucking shit. He dresses up and makes unique HATS for his friends and others. Specifically so they can use them as COSTUMES to act parts!!!!

And the other unique thing mentioned about him here took the time aside to note how he appreciated the intersection in personal interests between him and his father for it.

So you all know what I’m thinking, right? HATS??? It’s got to be Heart, isn’t it. Maybe even a Page of Heart, with his long-off aspirations and talent for arming others with it. Any other additive/giving class might do the trick, too, like Sylph or possibly Maid. Knight could technically still fit pretty well, but I feel Page is better given what little we know so far, what with so much outward focus bleeding out.

(You can comb through the saga on my infamous hats tag or the summary on the Aspect Duality post, but the gist is that hats (and others’ clothes, but especially the hats. even shoes -- SO many shoes in that picture!) represent the gist of an expressed identity, personal uniqueness whether innate or affected ala a costume. Nepeta, Dirk, Terezi, and even Stitch have given us examples, some of them deeper than we realized, MOST of them probably overthought bullshit like I thought when I first created the hats tag and started tracking the wonderful importance of hats. ¬_¬)

I’d like to see anyone else’s interpretation. (EDIT: One more potential Nep-allusion in this room.)

> (==>)

Oh nooooooo!!!! Tavros’s sprite is the saddest looking thing I’ve ever seen!! D: Like a mix of Jane and Jake that thoroughly regrets his entire existence! Which he practically does! D: Why the Caliborn-like clothes though?

(Some hint at “how different alt!Callie’s Caliborn must have been” like the commentary suggested exploring in fanfiction? Was the suggestion meant to divert attention from the idea that it’d be addressed in the plot? Andrew pulled that trick a time or two, why not these authors?)

Also:

Pffff. Vriska just accessorizing immediately-- Oh, wait. That might just be a bandana she had at some point coated in Gamzee’s blood.

Tavros is looking at the news on a borrowed phone -- nice call on disabling the tracking on yours, Tavros.

> (==>)

TAVROS: It’s getting a bit surreal to see my, uh,, frozen mask of horror on every news site,, TAVROS: It’s a good shot of you,,, though, Vrissy, VRISSY: It really is Shockingly well composed.

Heheheh. It’s fun that Tavros knows exactly what Vrissy/ka would care about.

And yes, Vriska is over there trying out ALL the bandanas.

> (==>)

VRISSY: Oh, is trying on all my 8oyfriend’s accessories not passing the time well enough for you? VRISKA: Desper8 times call for desper8 measures, Vrissy. VRISKA: And this is some dire shit.

They stare each other down. Did she mean the fugitive situation, or Harry Anderson’s fashion choices? Vrissy feels silly wondering this, but despite the situation they’re in, she can’t help but feel more acutely anxious about Vriska’s presence.

She likes her life, and she trusts her own choices. But now, looking at everything from Vriska’s vantage point, it all feels silly. Unimportant. Childish.

She can’t tell if she wants Vriska to rip in to Harry Anderson or if she wants her to stay silent. To put off the moment where she has to defend him or join in.

Real interesting. Like she’s caught between these worlds after all.

> (==>)

They say it was a long drive, but...?

...WOW. What a chill, disinterested-looking affect his sprite makes for. Huh.

He kisses Vrissy’s temple and she leans in to the warmth of him.

HARRY ANDERSON: aren’t you a sight for sore eyes. HARRY ANDERSON: so sorry it took so long. HARRY ANDERSON: can’t rush a heart to heart, you know how it is.

Stop making me deliberate whether you’re trying to drop teasing Heart-aspect hints. You already know I’m going to be obsessively scrutinizing every word of dialogue around Harry to see if it fits, story. No need to rub it in.

VRISSY: You actually had a Heart to Heart with your dad? How many times did he Cry?

I DIDN’T EVEN READ THE NEXT LINE QUIT SAYING HEART TO HEART YOU EVEN GAVE IT PROPER CAPS THAT TIME

HARRY ANDERSON: but god, it was a mess. i had to keep talking to keep him from looking at his phone or turning on the radio. HARRY ANDERSON: i may have told him more about my deep passions and emotions in the last hour than the whole rest of my life combined, just to keep him from hearing the fucking news.

Holy shit. You exploited conversation about your deep passions and interests for a separate goal???

Aaargh! Classpect everywhere! I’ve relapsed!!! D:

> (==>)

JOHN IS SO HAPPY

John Egbert has not had a day like this in a very long time. He can barely keep track of this series of epiphanies he’s having. He stretches out on his couch to relax and process the gifts of advice and connection his friends and family and ex-family have just given him.

OH RIGHT TIME TO RUIN IT WITH MAXIMUM SHENANIGANS

JOHN: hey karkat! great timing! JOHN: so much just happened and im kind of reeling about it. KARKAT: YEAH NO SHIT.

Ohhhh. Much of the time I hate dramatic irony, but those moments before someone is about to be let in on the discrepancy... oh man I love that.

JOHN: is something going on? i just spent the afternoon with my son, and i think he would have told me if something was up with his friends? KARKAT: OH MY LUSCIOUS SHITTING CHRIST JOHN LISTEN TO ME. JOHN: listening!

"Luscious”?? Did they try to type “Lusus” and get autocorrected?

Who’s writing Homestuck on their phone???

> (==>)

J...John?? Are you okay?? XD

This picture. These two paragraphs. I fucking love them.

(Wow, being closer to the “canon” story due to ridiculous shenanigans right after his back-to-back self-insights and outlook changes have really been healthy for him huh. He can probably sense HS^2 reaching him out here. And you can see the helpless comedian his probably-still-depressed ass became on Earth B in his reaction here. EDIT: Also, how appropriate that even by DYING, the Bard of Rage managed to fulfill his role and shatter the last vestiges of John's narrow-outlooked despair?)

John can’t answer. He can’t speak. His body has given itself over to the long-lost feeling of manic euphoria. It had felt like Harry Anderson was holding something back on the drive earlier, but he had already told John so much. He hadn’t wanted to press for more.

Yeah... after what John’s gone through across his life and session, finding out Harry managed to hide THIS for a whole car-ride is the best sort of punch-line for him.

John can’t breathe. Something is happening. Something is finally fucking happening, and he’s finally awake enough to appreciate it.

--yep. I was just guessing earlier, but this kind of confirms it’s in part a closer-to-relevance, closer-to-canon feeling bleeding in. Something is happening that’s important enough to SHOW onscreen and not skip over. I guess he really does like being anchored in Light after all.

> (==>)

John wheezes himself into relative calm. He has to get Karkat to understand. He clears his throat and breathes.

JOHN: karkat, this can be how we win. JOHN: i know what we need to do.

...holy SHIT.

Karkat, how did you know calling JOHN about this would work out this well??

John actually taking confident action to solve a problem, in a way that isn’t going to end up depressing like his attempt to provide Tavros escape in the Epilogues... this should be interesting.

See you next time. (I had to image-fix some stupid linked hat posts for this blogpost and I’m out of energy, so I’ll fix the other old post I promised that asker to fix in like, a day or two; I’ll post when I do.)

#Homestuck #hs2 #Homestuck Liveblog #upd8 #Homestuck^2 #bladekindeyewear #blastyoboots #hats #Heart and Mind #Harry Anderson

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mvtteo · 4 years

Text

YES, i know i’m so late to the game - pls fight me :/ - but i’m here now & i cannot wait to write w/ all of u & love on all of u, etc !! i’m stef btw !! ok now on to the stuff yall came here for.

☆★ [ tommy martinez + he/him + cismale ] ☆★ did you know that [ matteo de la cruz ] has lived in erie for [ two months ] now? the [ 26 ] year old [ dealer / uber driver ] is known to be [ loyal ], yet [ calamitous ]. which is fitting considering they are a/an [ scorpio ]. whenever they pass by on the street, i can hear [ save me from myself by louis the child ] blasting through their headphones. they remind me of [ a flickering street light in an alley, dirt stuck under your fingernails & a meme that isn’t funny anymore ], and it really wouldn’t be erie without them! [ stef, 21, est, she / her ].

( TW : drug use, abuse, violence )

FORMING

from toronto originally ! he’s only been in erie for about two months ( and who KNOWS how long that’ll last ... more info on that below )

he grew up in a single parent home ( his biological father SLAMMED the door in his face at 4 years old & never returned ), of course a part from the revolving door of ‘ new daddy’s ’ his mother would introduce to him as he grew. money was tight but they made due, a working/lower class family living in an area of the city that was known as a spot tourists shouldn’t visit.

a lil bit about his mother : emillia vargas ! she took odd jobs when she could & that’s how she put food on the table. that, or her boyfriend of the month dishing out from his wallet. sometimes it was shocking - to have food in the fridge - when at least half of her paycheck was sent to a dealer on the corner. she was from a long line of addicts & didn’t make it to the other side. matteo’s earliest memories are of needles — and the worst was the silence afterwards. their relationship is COMPLICATED to say the least. for some reason, despite everything, he still cares & checks up on her. probably because she’s the only family he knows. or the guilt trip & manipulation she’s thrown his way — that, too! anyway. they don’t talk often & she’s still at the same house up in toronto.

father : the man left when matteo was just four. fighting was constant ( so perhaps it was due to trouble in paradise ), but matteo was too young to really comprehend why he left & he hates pondering on it - even though the lasting effects are REAL.

anyway. his mother did have her fair share of boyfriends, trying to fill in that void - but to no avail. some of these men were dangerous, some using emilia, some married already, others abusive & controlling, addicts themselves ... needless to say, no one really stuck. and matteo definitely had a part in that too, being spiteful, causing fights or fighting back. things got pretty bad @ his place & the neighborhood knew whose house those red & blue lights always visited.

SPEAKING of his neighborhood, one great thing did come out of it & that was not too far around the corner lived @luzzamaya , matteo’s BEST FRIEND / ride or die / partner in crime. he practically lived @ her house, looked up to her father as the male figure in his life & they’re still two peas in a pod today :~)) ... but more on that later too ...

matteo grew up QUICKLY - not really in the way of caring for himself ( bc his actions would in fact prove the opposite ) but he often hung out with people way older than him ( not really wanting to be home after school, etc ) & he began diving into the world of drugs early on. def the kid your parents would’ve been 👀👀 about. YALL CATCH THE DRIFT OK ... moving on.

IMPORTANT BLURB TO HIS STORY (TW : mention of gang violence )

so he was always in the wrong crowd / hanging with kids older than him / he got involved with drugs etc really young. he started selling drugs lowkey around high school + the town and was a lowball dealer until he continuously proved himself + being more closely tied to this GANG ( the suppliers ), we can call it La Línea bc i looked up active gangs and this one was made from corrupt / retired police officers so i was like .. YUP ! so he’s currently affiliated, not initiated bc that prob means killing someone nd he’s like miss me w that, fool. but as he’s grown his relationship with them + has continued selling (drugs, weapons .. contraband etc), they want him in bc they trust him. giving him more & more duties. and it’s not like he can say NO bc they’re all strapped + can literally ruin/end his life ?? or ruin/end the lives of the ppl around him? SO as another gang (aka a MAFIA) that is trying to step on la linea’s territory … ( maybe it had bad consequences, someone from la linea being thrown in prison or dead ). SO they trust their outside dude matteo (since he’s not super recognizable to the mafia since he’s not u know . FULLY in la linea) to work a plan to take DOWN this mafia. how ? buy ratting them out to the police. a literal snitch smh. the only bad thing is now … someone from the mafia traced the words back to him. their leader is now in prison & has sent “”soliders”” to come after matteo nO MATTER WHAT. he’s gotten threatening calls // he’s been forced into fights // held at gunpoint which was his FINAL straw of being like .. I GOTTTA GO

soooooo now they’re ( him & luz ) are in erie :~).

also i’m thinking he got involved w the gang bc originally he owed other low-level dealers money + was like trust me on this. i’ll do whatever u ask. nd is a loyal ass hoe. plus all of a sudden he was making DOUGH selling product + had a following / a lil bit of a “”community”” that he’d never rly had before

PERSONALITY / HEADCANONS ( idk how to label - just some more info )

he’s not a horrible dude but a LOT of people would argue that he is. and his actions might seem like he is. but ... he’s learning :,)

sarcastic as hell

has an infamous smirk ok ... super careless so yall are gonna see that a lot

has a rooted issue with authority figures & hates when anyone tells him / offers him / suggests to him what to do

despite seemingly coming across as a meanie, he could also be considered the life of the party. not in the sense of being gregarious, but more so having FUN. drowning out

immature as hell

has definitely dealt to his mother before :/. a low, even for him, but. that’s a complicated relationship

his hair is constantly a mess

STREET FIGHTS FOR MONEY $$$ or when la linea previously made him. he tries not to do it TOO often but sometimes he’s just gotta ya know ?

has some shitty tattoos - minus the ones done beautifully by luz of course !! a few to cover some scars :|

assume scruff on his face at all times

has been struggling with sleeping through the night, nervous abt getting caught & will often just walk around @ 3pm for a smoke

loves reggaeton

bilingual but hardly speaks spanish :/

WANTED CONNECTIONS

a SPONSOR from AA/NA

a COP / law enforcement that takes him in for dealing

or even a bystander that calls in authorities for him dealing / stealing / anything illegal ...

someone he DEALS to

someone who OWES him money

a FLIRTATIONSHIP

a ROOMMATE

a BARTENDER/CONFIDANT @ his go-to watering hole

a GOOD INFLUENCE who is aware of his addiction

a PASSENGER in one of his uber rides

someone he got into a CAR ACCIDENT with

they hit him in the middle of the night // or hit his car ? or vice versa ?

someone he had a BAR FIGHT with

next door NEIGHBOR

ENEMIES

always wanted to do a homewrecker plot tbh

a revenge plot ?

someone he’s met from a DATING APP

a COUSIN

another CLUB RAT

ok i’m literally open to ANY connection u think of. it might be easy to come up w/ those in-depth ones while brainstorming tg but above are just a few ideas :,)))

#ok i realize that there is no structure to this + just a lot of THROWING things @ u but i promise i'll sit down nd write a legit bio for him #rn i just wanna start WRITING w u all already u kNOW ??#ok love love love ya all #erie:intro #bye

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novantinuum · 5 years

Text

Hollowed Moon (Ch. 1-3)

Fandom: Steven Universe

Rating: T (for sensitive content in later chapters)

Words: 1.5K~

Summary: Stevonnie doesn't crash the Star Skipper onto that jungle moon. Instead, they crash on a craggy fragment of rock suspended thousands of miles away from its associated colony, long forgotten.

On that lonely hunk of rock is a domed garden.

And standing in that garden, just as lifeless seeming as the rest of it, is a pink Gem.

Okaay, so this is the beginning of a little series of drabbles I’ve been posting on AO3 over the last two weeks. It’s an AU that diverges from just after Lars of the Stars. I have seven chapters posted already on AO3. Link to that will be posted in the reblogs, for anyone interested.

Ch. 1

The force of the impact nearly vibrates through their bones as the Star Skipper hits the surface, throwing them against the cockpit’s control panel at such speed that they barely have enough time to put up a bubble. Thankfully, ‘enough’ is all the time they need. In but a millisecond the world tints pink. Following momentum, their neck snaps forward, causing their head to smash against the solid barrier. Stevonnie yelps, vision going temporarily woozy. It takes a while for them to fully recover, with the wrecked remains of the ship spinning like a top from their perspective as they slowly lift a quivering hand to their forehead to check for wounds. They groan, nearly every square inch of their body aching something terrible, but there’s nothing. No blood, no easily distinguishable breaks, nada. Lucky them! Score, Stevonnie one, busted, broken spaceship zip.

It must be your healing powers keeping us in one piece, ‘cause that was one really violent crash.

Well, also my bubble is pretty strong!

“Hah, well... we’re lucky even a bubble got me outta this scrape,” they murmur out loud, and let out a shaky breath as they attempt to ground themself. Taking a cursory glance around, they notice that the cockpit’s window has shattered, leaving the ship open to the vacuum of space. At least, they’re assuming it is. Whatever hunk of rock it is they’ve crashed on, it doesn’t appear to have an atmosphere. “Oh boy, guess I gotta keep this thing up for a while,” they say with a nervous laugh. They press their cheek against the bubble’s rim, peering at the cracked display screen. “Now, I wonder if any of this tech is salvageable...”

Stevonnie shifts in the seat. Without any iota of warning the ship’s engines explode, launching their protective bubble hundreds of feet closer to the very stars they’re lost amongst.

Oh, what a day it’s been.

Ch. 2

This shard of planetoid isn’t particularly large, but it has just enough mass that its gravity pulls Stevonnie’s wildly spinning bubble back to the surface. Their heart pounds as the bubble collides hard upon the craggy surface, bouncing a few times before finally coming to a rest. They gasp for breath, pulling themself to their knees.

“Aughh, my everything hurts.”

Slowly but surely they rise to their feet, their knees still shaking. All around them, the remains of the Star Skipper (may she rest in pieces) are now barely distinguishable, nothing left but melted twists of scrap metal. Even if there was any possibility of fixing up the communication array earlier, it’s a moot point by now.

Steven, how are we gonna-?!

“Oh, no, no no no no!” they cry out, gripping at their hair. “Oh, this is bad. This is so, so bad. How is Lars gonna be able to find us now?”

They adjust the straps of the backpack around their shoulders and begin pacing as they continue to talk to themself, walking back and forth across the dust and rock within the bubble like a hamster in a ball.

“Okay, Stevonnie, calm down,” they say, hugging their arms around their chest. “We’re fine. I’m fine! Let’s just work this out bit by bit. So. We’re stuck on some weird asteroid, or something. We have no ship. No means of communication. We’re safe in this bubble... for now. But... I honestly don’t know how long I can keep this up. I don’t usually use it longer than a few minutes at a time.”

What about when we first met?

“That’s different, though,” they stress, plopping down to sit crisscrossed. “That time he didn’t summon it voluntarily. And that time, we weren’t stuck in the vacuum of space! Although... Okay. Okay, we were stuck under the ocean, fair point. And I guess there’s that time Steven was marooned with Eyeball. But still. It’s only been a few minutes and I’m already... so... so tired.”

Stevonnie’s breathing grows shallower, each puff of air coming in staccato gasps in their exhaustion. They grit their teeth, hand clenching against the rose quartz gem at their midsection. Over time they’ve come to realize that maintaining any one of Steven’s shields or abilities for a long period of time is super taxing to them, more so than it is for the young half-Gem himself. Makes one wonder if that’s because they’re a 75% human hybrid, because of the nature of being a fusion, or because they simply haven’t trained enough together.

They moan, frustrated at this whole dumb scenario, desperately wondering if there’s anything they could’ve done differently to avoid it all together. Lars and his friends will find them soon once they follow their trail and do a flyby, hopefully, but there’s still so many variables to consider here. They quickly hop back onto their feet inside the bubble.

Stevonnie squints, for a moment thinking they can see dimmed starlight glinting off of a domed surface in the far distance. Perhaps there’s some Gem technology hidden away here that could prove useful. For now, all they can do is explore and wait.

Ch. 3

The dome encapsulates a gigantic garden. At least, what they can only guess was once a garden. All the plants have long since shriveled up into husks of their former glory, much like the hollowed-out moon hanging high above. There’s a single service doorway on the dome’s exterior, a feature Stevonnie is exceedingly lucky to have found before finally fading to exhaustion with their bubbling ability. Now freely wandering around the dome's interior, they approach a massive platform towards its center. Eyes glittering, they brush their hand against some eroded etchings in the old stone. They’re sure it used to be quite a sight to behold in its heyday, this whole complex. Such a shame time had to carry this place to eternal rest. What used to go on here, they wonder? What kinds of Gems would use this space? Did they all leave when the colony above was... fully drained of its resources?

Their nose crinkles just thinking about it.

Hey, they muse suddenly. Up at the top... I think that’s a warp pad.

Are you sure?

Pretty positive.

“Couldn’t hurt to look,” they mutter softly, climbing up the stairs. Their legs are still burning from the long walk they set upon to reach the dome in the first place.

When they reach the top they kneel in front of the warp, and place a palm flat upon it. They close their eyes, focusing their mind on the tangled web of warp stream signatures old users have left behind, almost like a fossilized travel record. Except it’s energy based. Well, kinda. They’re sure it’s far more complicated than that, but to be fair Steven wasn’t paying full attention to Pearl the day she was teaching him how to do this. His loss, Stevonnie thinks with a snort. They think all this Gem history stuff is pretty fascinating.

The web comes into focus in their mind’s eye, one particularly bright thread stretching further across the stars than any warp pad they’ve ever seen before can.

“Galaxy warp,” they breathe in giddy realization. “This is an actual, working galaxy warp! But- no!” they cry, grinding their hands into fists. “That means we can’t use it, because Earth doesn’t have an operationa—“

“Pink, is that finally you??” a high pitched voice cries in joy from the distance.

They whirl around in a flash, scanning the interior of the (perhaps not so?) extinct garden. The complex is massive, but it’s not long before they locate the origin of this new voice, trapped amongst the browned and hardened brambles.

Standing midway between the raised galaxy warp platform and the stagnant fountain at the center of the dome is a short pink Gem.

From this distance, they’d have to guess she’s maybe half their height, perhaps a little taller. Her gemstone is on her chest, a heart shaped type they don’t recognize. The Gem’s hair is pulled up into messy little buns, twisted to look like hearts themselves. She stands with her arms open wide, baggy eyes alight with anticipation as she waits for their response.

Mouth agape, Stevonnie skitters down the steps of the platform as fast as they can. Who is this Gem? Why is she alone in a withered garden, in the middle of deep space? And why are her feet literally bound by roots?? How long has she been standing here?

“Oh! Oh, hello! I, uh- I don’t think I’m who you’re looking for, sorry,” they say with an apologetic smile. “I’m Stevonnie. If you don’t mind me asking, what are you doing here all on your own?”

“I’m playing a game,” the small Gem replies simply, clasping her gloved hands together.

“A... game?”

“With my best friend, yes!” she enthuses. “She’ll come back any day now, I can just feel it.”

Her voice sounds chipper enough, but perhaps as a result of Connie’s lonely childhood and the walls a person learns to erect in those situations, Stevonnie can intimately sense the cracks in her facade. They may not yet understand the full scoop, but they can tell she's desperately trying to convince herself of her own cover story.

What on Earth happened to this Gem, here in this forgotten garden?

#su #su fanfic #steven universe #stevonnie #spinel #su fanfiction #hollowed moon #my writing stuff

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halfblood-fiend · 4 years

Text

Star Trek Bingo 2020: Vertical Prompt 3

Chess/”Board” Games

Show: Voyager

Words: 1,841

Rating: General Audiences

Warning(s): shenanigans

Dungeons and Bandwagons

When Giana attempts to organize her first D&D campaign onboard the Voyager, it turns out to be a bit more complicated than she thought.

Read it on AO3

We’d been going around and around for most of our lunch break. I did not think that introducing twenty-third century people to D&D would be so difficult.

After another explanation, Harry Kim stared at me with his hands folded beneath his chin for too long a while. “I don’t get it,” he said finally, picking his fork back up to resume playing with his food. “How is that supposed to be better than a holodeck program?”

“Uhhh… it’s interactive and adaptable?”” I offered. “Your DM makes the story up for you as you go.”

“An adept programmer could make the holodeck function in the same manner,” Vorik chimed in from my right. I had to keep from rolling my eyes.

“Hey! You’re supposed to be on my side!”

He shrugged without looking at me. “I am on the side of logic.”

I ignored this, shaking my head and insisted to Harry, “There are scenarios you just can’t plan for.”

“Oh yeah? Like what?”

“Like…”

God. Like deciding to bang the first NPC you meet. Why? Eh, just ‘cause. Like deciding as a group to put on a spur-of-the-moment chili cook off to grant the deed to the town’s tavern to the winner because, obviously a chilli cook-off is the most fair way to make decisions. Or like deciding to betray your entire party for your character’s freedom, and then betraying those new allies and running off alone. Or like solving every kidnapping or murder problem by rolling the unwanted body up in a rug, and then lying to so many people about your rug selling business that your party all decide to petition the city for an actual business license, thus derailing the campaign for weeks as you all turn in your paperwork and get in touch with a real estate agent within the fantasy city in order to find a place to house your Totally-Not-Fake Rug and Carpeting Business.

But how to explain all that?

“Man… you just gotta trust me,” I sighed. “There are way too many variables to be able to make a program that will adapt to all of them. You have no way of knowing what could happen during a D&D campaign. Trust me.”

“Eh, I’m down to try,” Lyssa Campbell said. When Harry gave her a doubtful look, she shrugged. “Hey, it’s gotta be better than that poker everyone is always playing. And as long as we’re all relaxing and talking and having fun, then it sounds like it’ll be just fine.”

“Sounds like a rip off of my Grendel program,” Harry muttered. “And not even as interesting because we aren’t fighting holographic monsters. We’re just—what? —imagining everything happening?”

“Aha! I got it,” I said with a snap of my fingers, cutting off whatever he was talking about. “Dice!”

Harry raised his eyebrows and Vorik said, “Explain.”

“You can’t roll dice on the holodeck.”

“So?”

“So! Rolling the dice to try and see how well you do things is the best part!”

“If you’re telling me that’s the best part of this game, I’m really doubting how much “fun” you claim it to be.”

“Aww, come on, Harry! Let’s just try it!”

He shook his head again, but a smile started pulling at his lips. “Fine, but I’m not going to have fun and I will complain the whole time.”

“Doubt that,” I replied with a wink. “But I’ll take it for now.”

“Giana! If you can spare a moment, I have an inquiry regarding your role-playing game.”

Similar sentiments had been asked of me by most of my friends and future players, but Vorik was the last person that I had expected to have any trouble with character building. Yet here Vorik was, appearing at my shoulder before I could enter the turbolift to leave Engineering.

“An inquiry? Now is that more or less important than a plain question?”

He gave me a puzzled look as we entered the lift together and I smiled.

“Nevermind. Shoot.”

“What?”

“Ask me the question. Deck two.”

The turbolift slid into motion and Vorik began, “I was looking over the documents you sent those of us who required characters for your Dungeons and Dragons—”

I smiled at his use of the name but nodded.

“—and I noticed that ‘Human’ is among the other more fantastical races that one can play. It gave me an idea that I wished to discuss with you.”

“Oh, yeah… I mean, I wouldn’t worry about that. It’s just an old Human-made game, remember? Don’t take it too seriously. I, like, literally never actually played a Human before. That would just be like playing myself and, sure, you always kinda do that but who wants to be so obvious about it?”

Vorik blinked. “I would.”

It was my turn to ask, “What?”

“If Humans can exist in this world, then I would like to role-play as a Vulcan.”

I chewed my lip, my heart sinking because I felt like Vorik was missing the point. Here I thought he was going to do something interesting when he asked to join the party. I was excited to see what he would come up with. But, then again, it wasn’t like he role-played very much when we played Skyrim together on the holodeck either. His inflexible and aloof attitude usually confused all the Nords until I stepped in to use the “proper” language. Made him useless at price haggling.

Since he wanted to play at all, I conceded to myself, that had to be close enough. I didn’t want to totally control his play. I never liked it when my DMs had done that in the past.

He a little confused, but he got the spirit.

“Okay,” I relented, “I’ll see what I can do about homebrewing a ‘Vulcan’ stat-block for you, just…promise me one thing?”

My Vulcan companion quirked an eyebrow at me. “Yes?”

The turbolift stopped and opened its doors. I could hear the sounds of soft chatter and laughter coming from the mess hall. Whatever Neelix was cooking wafted up the corridor and smelled really promising. My stomach grumbled in response.

“Just don’t play yourself,” I said as we both stepped off the lift and the doors slid closed behind us. “If you show up with a character named ‘Vorik,’ I’m going to kick you from the game. And then, literally kick you in the shins.”

“An extreme reaction, don’t you think?”

I put up my fists as if I was gonna fight him. “Oh, I can get more extreme.”

Looking at my poor guard dubiously, he said dryly, “I’m sure. Your Human penchant for hysterics?”

“Hysterics?! Oh! Well how about your high drama, mister??”

“I do not know to what you could be referring.”

The line at Neelix’s kitchen counter was somewhat long, which gave Vorik and I plenty of time to debate the “logic” of Vulcan fashion choices back and forth. I insisted they were dramatic for no reason and Vorik tried to act like real thought went into all the high collars and zig-zagged diagonal clasps. Neelix’s pasta dish actually did look as promising as it smelled, which was a nice surprise.

“Ah, Miss Giana, I almost forgot,” Neelix gasped as I turned away, drawing me back. “Ensigns Swinn and Jurot wanted to ask you about—ah—something called a ‘character sheet’?”

I thanked him with a smile and motioned for Vorik to help me pick them out of the crowded hall at dinner hour.

The day had come to start our campaign and not a moment too soon. I was excited as all hell. I’d hardly slept at all the night before, choosing instead to expand some NPC backstories and prepare a few more monsters. Just in case.

All of my players’ character sheets were checked and filed on my PADD for reference. I couldn’t help but laugh when Vorik sent me his and I saw the name at the top of the sheet. He had listened to me and wasn’t playing himself…but I was very curious to see how Surak the monk was going to handle my adventure. I was pretty pleased with everyone’s character concepts, actually. I had a pretty balanced group.

I’d decided some time ago that a grand total of six players was all that I could conceivably handle. But that hadn’t stopped everyone else from trying to ask for a spot. Dozens of requests had flooded my inbox from all corners of the ship (Neelix’s doing, I assumed) and I had spent a good chunk of time yesterday writing personal “sorry, maybe next times.”

Even Chakotay had sent me a note! Not to, like, join or anything, but still! He mentioned that he was familiar with the old game and wanted to tell me that he thought it would be good for morale and crew unity and other things commanders cared about.

I practically sprinted away the second my shift was over, bolting to the door before Lieutenant Carey had even said goodbye.

I was the last player on duty, and my group’s attitude towards D&D had changed dramatically once they’d built their characters. They all made me promise not to keep them waiting for too long.

And speak of the devil.

The communicator badge on my chest chirped before I’d made it halfway down the corridor. Harry’s voice crackled over the comm.

“Uhhh…Giana?”

I tapped the badge to answer. “Yeah, yeah, Harry. I’m on my way as fast as I can, okay?”

“Oh… No, no. It’s not that…”

Was I hearing things, or did I detect the hum of a lot of voices in the background?

“What is it?”

He sounded uncomfortable. “I think we need to find a different venue to play. Your quarters are going to be a little cramped…” Muted voices spoke rapidly but I couldn’t catch any words. “Meet us in the Lounge instead. Vorik says he has a code and he’d grab the PADD with your notes. I made him promise not to look.”

Nervous laughter bubbled from my mouth. “Uhh…why?”

Vorik’s voice resonated over Harry’s comm. “There are thirty-six other people who would like to spectate our game. At first it did not seem inconceivable to accommodate a few of them when they asked…”

“But all of us told a couple people that they could come and now there’s thirty-six of them,” Harry finished. “Sorry, Gee…”

Thirty-six… That’s forty-two people…

My jaw actually dropped.

“Okay,” I said in a small voice. “See… S-See you all there…” I killed the line by tapping on my badge again and wobbled.

I was shaking when I boarded the turbolift.

I’d never DM-ed a game before in my life, even though I’d talked about doing so on several occasions back home. So, without experience, or my old friends to ask for tips, I was already starting out nervous.

But now?

Holy shit.

What was I gonna do??

I blinked and the turbolift doors slipped shut on me, whisking me away to an uncertain fate.

#Star Trek #Voyager #Star Trek: Voyager #Voy #Ensign Vorik #Harry Kim #Giana Moreno #ah...what the heck #OTP: Two Worlds Collided #Star Trek Bingo

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missjanjie · 4 years

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Branjie Fic | Take Me Back to the Start (6/?)

Title: Take Me Back to the Start Summary: Everyone remembers their first love. Not everyone carries those feelings from childhood to senior year. Yet Brock is starting his last year of high school while still longing for the relationship he lost five years ago. Meanwhile, José is at the top of the food chain and seems to have it all together. But maybe their story isn’t over yet. Word Count: ~3.4k (this chapter) / ~19.3k (total) Relationship(s): Branjie (Brooke Lynn Hytes/Vanessa Vanjie Mateo), Jan x Nicky Rating: E

Read on AO3

“Okay, bitch, I wanna hear all the dirty details,” Silky prompted, looking at his friend, ready to listen.

José laughed and shook his head. “Calm yo thirsty ass down, this shit stayed PG-13,” he told him. “But it was good, though. Never thought I could get so hot and bothered by some making out, you know?”

He looked at him, perplexed and amused. “So you got me over here sounding all worked up just to tell me y’all just made out on that playground? Fuck, I was expecting to hear about all the new uses you got outta those kiddie swings.”

“You’re fucking nasty.” He threw his head back and cackled. Though he had to admit, he wouldn’t have been opposed to that, should it have gotten that far. And he had to wonder if Brock would’ve been down for the same, or at least something similar in a safer location.

It was really only hitting him then just how strong his attraction to Brock was. Sure, he knew he was hot, that there had been sparks going off between them. He certainly knew how much he liked kissing him. But now he realized that, on top of whatever his romantic feelings were, he was lusting after him as well. As far as he was concerned, it only stood to further complicate the situation. Unless, of course, they ended up on the same page.

“So, you gonna call him back around to finish what y’all started?”

“Well…” José hesitated, “I don’t wanna give him the wrong idea or nothing. Like, I don’t want him to think I only wanna fuck. ‘Cause it’s deeper than that. But I don’t wanna come on too strong that way either. You know what I mean?”

Silky stared at him blankly. “Absolutely not, and you sound fully insane.”

“What do you suggest then?”

His friend grabbed him with one hand on either side of his head. “Talk to him, dumbass. Tell him you’re down to fuck but don’t want to just fuck, or however you wanna get the job done. Just trust me, I know what I’m talking about.”

José rolled his eyes. “Then why you still single?”

“Hey! I’m not the one who can’t admit he’s been in love with the same guy for eight years. It don’t take a relationship expert to know you got a lot of baggage to unpack there,” he pointed out.

It did give him pause, making him look down and away as he mulled his friend’s thoughts over. “Is it really that big of a deal?”

“No, but you sure as hell making it into one.”

He sighed, shutting his eyes tight, as if that would help him think. Everything he felt was real and sincere, to him it made sense that it was this all-encompassing dilemma. But maybe Silky was right, maybe his dramatic, overthinking tendencies led him to make his feelings even messier than they already were.

“You gonna be okay?”

“Yeah,” José nodded. “Just gotta work through this shit.��

------

During the next cheer practice, Brock had finally plucked up enough courage to go up to José, after spending the majority of the past two days avoiding him. “Hey, um, you have a minute?”

“I got all the minutes for you,” he hummed, and they had just turned to scope out a private spot to talk in before they were interrupted.

It was one of the new freshmen members, one of the only other boys. He had warm brown eyes and a cheerful disposition that seemed to radiate positive energy. Maybe that was why neither José nor Brock were especially bothered by the interruption. They might’ve even been a little relieved.

José offered a kind smile. “What’s up? It’s Charlie, right?”

Charlie nodded. “I’m not bothering you guys, am I? I just have this kind of stupid question that I thought maybe you could help me with.” He waited until they nodded for him to go ahead. “How do you know if a guy is gay?”

Brock and José looked at each other, and it clicked right away that they had the same idea. “Who’s the guy in question?” the blonde asked, leading the two shorter boys to sit on the bleachers that overlooked the rest of the outdoor grounds.

The younger cheerleader looked down at the ground, a smile spread across his face and his cheeks and the tips of his ears tinted pink. “It’s this French exchange student--”

“Gay.”

“José, no, let him finish.”

“That’s the thing!” he continued. “I can’t tell if he’s actually flirting with me or if it’s just that sexy European vibe.”

Both of them nodded as they listened intently. “I take it just asking him is out of the question?” Brock asked, ignoring the irony in the suggestion.

“I mean, yeah, basically.” Charlie nodded. “I can’t just be like ‘oh, by the way, are you as gay as I hope you are?’ That’d be weird.”

“And what do he be doing that you think may or may not be flirting?” José asked.

He smiled, rosiness blooming across his cheeks. “He sits extra close to me at lunch, he’s always complimenting me, and he’s very touchy-feely. Also, I think I caught him checking me out in the locker room once.”

José and Brock looked at each other. “Gay,” they said in unison.

“Not only that, he definitely is trying to let you know he’s interested,” Brock added. “That’s like, flirting 101, right?” He looked towards José, his arm around his waist and aimlessly stroking his side.

He nodded, looking up at him with a grin. “Couldn’t have said it better myself.” He then redirected his gaze to Charlie. “So, whatcha gonna do?”

Charlie shifted awkwardly as he weighed out his options. “I mean, you make a compelling case,” he admitted. He looked out across the field and, as luck would have it, his eyes met the ones of the object of his affection. “I’m gonna go for it,” he decided, pushing himself to his feet. “Thanks! I knew I came to the right couple,” he waved them off before jogging down the field.

The two of them looked from him to each other. “We should go watch,” Brock decided quickly. “You know, make sure it goes well.”

“Agreed,” José got up and motioned for him to follow, so they could try to follow along as inconspicuously as possible.

“Hey, Karl, hi.” Charlie came up beside him walking along the track.

Karl looked at him with a bright smile. “Hey. Did you just exercise? You’re all red.”

Of course, being called out on it prevented the redness in his face from dissipating. “Oh, uh, yeah. Just finished practice.”

“Right, right. You know, you have yet to invite me to watch you do cheerleading,” he mused, bumping their shoulders together lightly.

Charlie tilted his head, perplexed. “It’s not invitational, you can just--” Oh. Now he got it. Maybe he had actually just been too oblivious thus far. “Well, I’d love for you to come to the game on Friday. Then uh… Maybe we could go out afterwards, get something to eat?”

“Like a date, yes?”

He could feel his face burn up again. “Yeah, like a date! I-If you want it to be, I mean.”

Karl chuckled softly. “Of course I do.” He hummed, then kissed his cheek. “Until Friday, mon chou.” Just as he started to leave, he tilted his head and scrunched his nose. “Who are your friends?”

“Oh shit,” José whispered, making a run for it with Brock, leaving Charlie standing confused.

“Um… I wouldn’t worry about them.” He waved it off quickly.

Meanwhile, Brock and José ran all the way to the parking lot, stopping only when they reached José’s car. “Okay, we’re good. Might’ve been a bit excessive, but I can live with that.”

“I hope those two work out,” José mused with a grin. “We’re still gonna spy on them at the game, right?”

“Oh, absolutely. I’m invested in this now.” He cleared his throat and looked down. “What do you think he meant by ‘couple’?”

José tilted his head. “That there was two of us.”

“Right, of course.” He nodded, even though neither of them believed it. In the back of his mind he remembered what he’d initially wanted to talk about before the interruption, but it felt weird to bring up now.

Either for better or worse, José didn’t share the same sentiments. “Anyways, what did you wanna talk to me about before?”

Brock was quiet for a moment as he considered backing out completely. He knew delaying the inevitable could only work for so long, but that didn’t make it any less daunting. “We should talk about what happened at the playground,” he said in one breath.

José pushed himself up to sit on the hood of his car. “I know,” he looked down, swinging his legs. He’d hoped by now that he would know what to say, it wasn’t like he didn’t know this conversation would happen eventually. Maybe he would’ve felt more comfortable if he initiated it, but it didn’t matter now. “Shit, why’s this so fucking hard?”

He sighed and leaned against the trunk, his elbows resting on the hood of it. “It shouldn’t be, right? We were always able to talk to each other about anything, no matter what.”

“We weren’t making out like that when we was ten.”

The first kiss they shared was the height of their intimacy. Other than that, they’d just hold hands, hug, maybe a kiss on the cheek or the occasional peck on the lips. They were kids, nothing beyond that even occurred to them at the time. Even when they’d learned about other forms of physical intimacy, it never crossed their minds to incorporate it between the two of them.

And Brock’s limited experience with sexual encounters was undoubtedly part of what brought these nerves to the forefront of his mind. In the time since their split, the other teen had all of the experiences he’d missed out on. It left him with a sinking feeling of inadequacy whenever he thought about consummating their relationship - whatever that relationship was.

“I know,” he replied with an awkward laugh that sounded more like a cough. “I think… I think we knew what we wanted when we were kids. All we cared about was just being together.”

José looked up at the sky, smiling faintly. “We didn’t realize how good we had it,” he mused, then shivered slightly as the cool autumn breeze hit him.

“Here.” Brock tugged off his hoodie and handed it to him.

He took the bright red sweatshirt and pulled it on. It was easily two sizes too big, but it was soft and warm. Most importantly, perhaps, it smelled like Brock, the same scent that lingered on his pillow and hit him whenever they were close enough together. “Thanks.” He grinned as he pulled the hood up over his head.

There were a few passing moments of silence. The awkwardness of the uncertainty of their relationship was balanced by the comfort they took in each other’s presence.

“If it didn’t rain on the playground, what would you have wanted to happen?” José finally asked.

Brock inhaled sharply, pressing his lips into a fine line. “I don’t know. I mean, I’m pretty sure any serious below the waist stuff would put us on a sex offender list.”

“Okay but like… in a world where there aren’t any con-consa-conc…” He snapped his fingers. “What’s the word?”

“Consequences?”

“Yeah, those. If we knew we weren’t gonna get in no trouble.”

He had used the time José spent searching his words to formulate an answer. “I think it’d just be up to how we felt in the moment.”

And José wasn’t naive, he knew that was a cop-out, but he couldn’t fault him for it. Part of what had made that encounter so thrilling was the complete spontaneity of it. Hell, he was doubting his own ability to outright confess his feelings, and that was saying a lot considering how he prided himself on his blunt honesty. “Yeah, I guess that makes sense.”

Brock’s entire body visibly relaxed, he felt like a cinder block had just been lifted from his chest. “Look, I’m obviously attracted to you…”

“But?”

“But…” He hesitated. He wanted to be honest, but telling himself that being a virgin wasn’t objectively a big deal over and over just didn’t seem to be enough. “But nothing. That’s it.”

José’s brows knitted towards the center of his forehead. Once again, he found himself torn between pushing himself to drag out the real answer or let things be to not make it worse. Brock was the only person he’d ever even had this internal conflict about; it wasn’t in his nature to fret about keeping the peace. “You sure?” he asked quietly, looking down.

No. Not even a little. He laid back against the back window of the car, his hands behind his head. “As sure as I can be.”

“I’ll take it.” He laid back against the car as well, gaze drifting up to the clouds. “Whatcha doing after this?”

“Dance rehearsal. I have a competition just before Thanksgiving break. And I’ve been kind of neglecting it.”

He frowned, rolling onto his side - narrowly avoiding accidentally slipping off of the trunk. “Hey, you better not be sacrificing yourself just to help me. This shit is your future.”

Brock winced. He knew he’d been putting this endeavor in front of his own. But he couldn’t stop himself from dropping everything for José at the drop of a dime. “I’m not, this is just… Not easier, but definitely more fun. You always make things more fun.”

“Can I come with you to your practice then?”

“Yeah, I don’t think my coach will mind.” He hopped down from the car, glancing at the time on his phone. “We may as well head over now. I can give you the directions.”

It was a good thing they left when they did, because while José could take direction to a T when it came to choreography, taking driving directions were nothing short of a nightmare.

Despite the bickering and wrong turns, they made it to the studio in time, with most of their sanity intact. Though they did use the walk from the parking lot to the changing room to cool down.

“Damn, this makes the locker room look like a fuckin’ swamp,” José chuckled, leaning against the row of lockers.

“It’s not?” Brock asked with a laugh as he undid the buttons of his shirt and let it fall off his shoulders. “Let’s just say if I had gym before lunch, I’d never be able to eat,” he added as he took his jeans off as well.

José felt his breath hitch in his throat. He knew Brock was still talking, but he didn’t catch a single word. His attention was fixed on appreciating the view.

Brock had a naturally tall, lean frame, but consistent training and competing kept him in good shape. His torso was toned with a layer of muscles that was just visible enough. His arms and legs were toned and defined.

The smaller teen could see every which way his body flexed with each move as he changed into a t-shirt and leggings. He bit down on his lip and he could feel his heartbeat speed up. It wasn’t like he’d never seen a hot, half-naked guy before, but it was the way he was so casual about it, it made everything feel more intimate.

“You okay?”

“Hm?” He blinked back into reality. “I’m good, yeah. Let’s go.”

They walked into a large, open studio. It was clean, with a wide window that allowed natural light to spread throughout the room, lessening the need for harsh fluorescents.

“Who’s your friend?” a woman asked. She was tall; she had a couple inches on José, but wasn’t quite the same height as Brock. Her body was a clear reflection of her dedication to fitness, a six pack of abs on display between a sports bra and yoga pants.

But her strong, perhaps intimidating stature was balanced by kind eyes and a warm smile, as well as an almost babydoll-esque voice when she spoke. Overall, her presence was calm and friendly.

“Anna, this is my good friend, José,” Brock introduced.

She looked him over, then back at her student with a smirk. “Yeah? How good, huh?”

“None of your business.” He laughed, but his red cheeks answered the question for him. “Anyway, do you mind if he hangs out? Just for some extra moral support.”

“Knock yourselves out.” Anna shrugged as she pulled her long mane of black hair into a ponytail.

And with José cheering him on from the sidelines, Brock did find himself enjoying his practice, feeling more relaxed and comfortable. It was just like when they were kids, when they were each other’s biggest supporters no matter what.

“And I think that wraps it up,” Anna said once they’d finished their cool-down exercises. “How’re you feeling about it? Ready to take the gold?”

“I think so, yeah.” Brock smiled as he caught his breath.

“That’s what I like to hear! See you next time. Nice meeting you, José.”

When the two of them were alone, José ran up to Brock’s side. “You fuckin’ killed that shit, B!”

He smiled and looped his arms around his waist. “I couldn’t have done it without you.”

He locked his arms around his neck, leaning close enough for their foreheads to rest together, not caring that the dancer was still hot and sweaty from the intense routine. “I’ll think of some way for you to repay me.”

Brock leaned in and kissed him, slow and soft, lips brushing against his when he spoke. “I’m sure you will,” but as quickly as he’d pulled him in, he let go. “I gotta get changed and shower off,” he said and led him back into the locker room.

When he stepped into the shower, he kept the water lukewarm. It felt soothing against his still heated skin and he let out a soft sigh of relief.

José sat down on the bench, looking towards the shower and wondering if he should just go for it. It was both tempting and time sensitive, and he slowly got up, still going back and forth in his mind.

“Fuck it,” he muttered as he stripped down. He took a deep breath, then stepped into the occupied stall. “Up for some company?”

“From you? Always.” He looked him over, lust flickering in his eyes. All of his worries and fears seemed to fall from the wayside as he was taken over by a wave of desire, cupping his face and pulling him into a heated kiss.

José melted right into the kiss, his arms wrapped around his waist and he stepped closer, until there was no more space between them. He moved his hands up his back, feeling every dip and groove in his toned form. With their bodies so close, he could feel every inch of him and it only riled him up even more.

It was the most intimate Brock had ever been with anyone, and it was enough to get him half hard, and he was too aroused to be embarrassed by how quickly it happened. His hips bucked up, and when he heard a gruff moan in response, he knew the feeling was mutual.

Rocking against each other wasn’t enough after long, and José looked up at Brock, cocking his head as if to say ‘let’s do this’.

‘This,’ however, was a little too ambiguous for Brock, so he decided to take what he believed to be the safest route. He kept one hand on the small of José’s back, the other moved forward and wrapped around the length of his cock.

José mimed his actions, both of them working in tandem, grunting and moaning as they kept a steady pace.

Even though they were alone, they tried to stay quiet, kissing heatedly and messily, only coming up for air when they had to, and reconnecting their lips to quiet themselves when their orgasms hit.

They stood still, holding each other as they caught their breath, then cleaned up and got out, drying off and getting dressed in silence.

The drive back was quiet as well. Neither of them knew what to say until they got to Brock’s house.

“I’ll see you tomorrow.” Brock leaned in and they shared a quick kiss, and then he scurried off inside.

José sat in his car in front of the house for a moment, letting everything sink in. He felt so good, so free, but it still felt like something was missing.

#branjie #branjie fic #rpdr rpf #plot twist: this fic was all just a trojan horse for sportsdoll #jk mostly

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randomoranges · 4 years

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amnesia au part 144

Étienne walked into the kitchen to find Constance and Julien hunched over what seemed to be a book of some sorts. The counter was filled with various measuring cups and bowls, the carton of eggs and the jug of milk. Intrigued, Étienne made his way towards them to see what they were up to.

“We’re making Mononcle Édouard’s cookies,” Constance finally admitted after sharing a look with her brother, “Mom said she’d help us.”

“We’re getting things ready,” Julien added.

Étienne did a double take at that, never expecting them to be making the same cookies Edward used to make for them, “I didn’t even know you had the recipe,” He said, instead, his mind still reeling from the shock.

“Mom asked ‘cause we liked them so much,” Étienne nodded at that. Suzette would do something of the sorts and of course, Edward would have given her the recipe.

“Well, since your mom is still busy, if you want I can help and supervise until she gets here,” He surprised himself saying. Constance and Julien exchanged another look and matching grins appeared on their faces, “But you guys have to deal with the oven – they still don’t like me,” He joked and got a few chuckles in return. Étienne walked over to the other side of the kitchen counter, to see what the first step of the recipe was and felt a small pang of sadness when he saw Edward’s familiar handwriting on the recipe card.

God, he remembered those cards. Edward had a whole stack of them and would write down his tried and tested recipes on them. He even had a special box, instead of a cookbook, in which he stored the recipes in. He had one for meals and one for desserts and they were sorted alphabetically. Étienne had teased him for his methods, but he had found it oh so endearing. Whenever someone would ask him for a recipe, Edward would take out one of his blank cards and write the recipe down with his fountain pen he liked to use and kept for “special occasions.” He said it made the recipe better, instead of photocopying it like a heathen.

He never thought he’d ever see one of these cards again and having it so close to him brought back a flood of emotions and memories he rather would keep buried. However, he’d just promised his niece and nephew that he would help with the cookies and so he put on a brave face and stowed his feelings for later.

Luckily, the kids didn’t seem to notice his sudden change of mood and he did his best to keep the conversation light and going. He joked around, made silly faces, created interesting cookie sculptures with the cookie dough and let them both lick one of the whisks of the electric mixer, after he made sure that it was turned off and unplugged. (He, on the other hand, got to scrape the bowl of any cookie dough left). Constance was put in charge of sliding the baking sheets into the oven and once the kitchen was clean and the cookies were baking, they sat around the kitchen waiting.

“Mononcle Étienne,” Constance started off some time later,” Do you – do you still miss Mononcle Édouard?” She asked almost shyly. Étienne was surprised by the question and wondered, not for the first time, if the cookies had been coincidental.

“More than anything, Coco,” He admitted – there was no point lying to her and even though he and Edward were exchanging text messages, it wasn’t the same as the real conversations they had had in the past or the easiness of their relationship from before, “Do you miss him as well?” He asked; Constance nodded and her brother did the same. It pulled at his heart, seeing them so saddened and he went over to them to hug them both tightly.

He had never thought about it like this – how Edward had been an impact on them as well and how even though they were young, they could still miss him in their own way. It reminded Étienne that he wasn’t the only one who had suffered and that even if they were all living with the consequences of the accident in different ways, there was still a lot of common ground.

“It’s okay to miss him, you know? What you feel is perfectly normal.”

“Does Mononcle Édouard hate us?” Julien asked and Étienne hated how wet his eyes were or the sad little frown on his face.

“Of course not, sweetheart, Mononcle Édouard could never hate you.” He tried to be reassuring and wiped a tear from his cheek as it rolled down.

“Then why hasn’t he ever called us or come to visit?” Constance chirped in.

Étienne pulled up a chair and sat with them on their side of the table. He had no idea why Edward had broken off contact with them. Or, he knew, but he didn’t know all the finer details and could only guess at how it was Edward probably felt about this situation. “It’s complicated, kiddo, it really is. I don’t think your uncle did it to hurt you – I think he just doesn’t know how to reach out to you. You know he doesn’t remember much from his life, right? Your parents explained it to you?” They nodded at that, “Exactly, so it’s gotta be really hard for him as well – not knowing who you guys are, but knowing that you know so much about him...” Explaining it to them shed some clarity on the matter at hand and offered him a new perspective he hadn’t really thought about. How would he feel if everyone around him knew him and had a whole history with him, but he couldn’t even remember their name?

“If you want, I can talk to him about it – tell him you miss him and maybe, when he’s ready, he’ll reach out to you. I can’t guarantee that he will, or when it’d happen but would you like that?” Both Constance and Julien nodded again and Étienne promised them he would, but they still looked a little down and Étienne didn’t want them to focus on this for too long.

“Hey, how about we play a little game while we wait for the cookies to finish baking?” They looked at him curiously, intrigued as to what it was he could suggest, “How about you each tell me one thing you really liked doing with your uncle? Or some nice memory you have of him and you?”

“Can I go first?” Constance asked and Étienne nodded, “I liked it when he’d tell us stories. Mononcle Édouard tells the best stories,” She started off, smile coming to her face, “He’d make funny voices and sometimes he acted the parts! It was so cool!” Julien eagerly nodded his head as if reaffirming what his sister had said.

“What about you, Ju?”

Julien pondered it for a moment, quietly thinking it over, “He always played with me.” He said after a while, “Even when there were other grownups, he would come play with me and he didn’t care if I was playing with little kid toys. He always made time for me and I liked when he would help me make puzzles.”

Étienne couldn’t help but smile and ruffled Julien’s hair. He was so right. Étienne remembered so many times when Julien would be cast aside because he was too little to play with Constance and Magalie, or when the adults were busy talking amongst themselves and he’d be left to entertain himself. Somehow or other, Edward would always find him and ask if he could play with him and Julien’s face would light up with the widest of smiles. There’d always been a special bond between Edward and Julien and Étienne had always thought that it was the sweetest thing. Edward loved the kid and Julien always went looking for him when they came over or when he and Edward drove up for a visit.

“What about you, Mononcle Étienne? What’s your favourite memory of Mononcle Édouard?” Julien asked him, interrupting his thoughts.

Étienne blinked, surprised, not thinking that they would ask him in kind, but he supposed it was only fair that he play along as well. He thought about it for a moment, sifting through years and years of different memories. There were so many things he liked about Edward and that meant different things to him, but he supposed there was a same essence to all of them, “I liked the way he made me feel – like I was someone good and important. That he believed in me and that I could achieve all my dreams. I liked how he made me feel safe – and loved. He was good at that, y’know? Making people feel important – that you were someone he cared for a lot and that you could go to him if you needed something?” He wondered if this wasn’t too much for them, but they nodded along, “And he’s very funny as well! He did tell the best stories, but also the best jokes,” He added with a laugh, trying to make this a little lighter, “But, I guess, what I liked best were his hugs...” He stopped himself there, before he could be carried away as he knew he could. This was supposed to be a nice exercise for the kids, not something that would make them all teary eyed.

“Alright, how about we check on the cookies?” He asked, wiping his own tears away and laughing it off, “We can honour your uncle by eating his cookies – we all know how much he liked it when we ate them, even if he did tell us not to each too many before dinner,” It seemed to do the trick and both Constance and Julie hopped off their chairs, before scurrying back to the oven, Étienne trailing behind.

PREVIOUS: CXLIII

CURRENT: CXLIV

NEXT: CXLV

#pc: montreal #étienne maisonneuve #au #ficlet #3 sentence fic meme thing #amnesia au

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jellyfishdooter · 4 years

Text

Okay so, back when I asked for asks for my Ego DnD AU, @lace-maze sent a really good ask a while back asking about why each of the egos chose the characters they did and their playing styles- and I can’t for the LIFE of me find the original anywhere on my blog. ;3;

But! I finished it and I bet it reads horribly but whatever who cares I’m tired- enjoy!

So to FINALLY answer your question, the way I went about choosing what each of the egos would play more or less boiled down to a combo of trying to pick what I think THEY would want to play, and what I figured they would be in the Dungeons and Dragons universe. (wink wonk)

Marvin- Dragonborn Sorcerer

One of the top veterans of the game, he likes to play something with more of a challenge and a lot more mechanics. And since he’s a magician it’s definitely has to deal with magic of some kind (I mean c’mon, he’s already got the aesthetic wardrobe irl for it so why not?). So he’s currently playing a Sorcerer- a magic caster who has the power naturally within him (which ties in his Race for it’s from his draconic bloodline:)

He could have easily chosen his race to be a Tabaxi (a human-cat like hybrid), but he already got enough shit of being the “furry” of the group as it was so instead he decided to go for a Dragonborn. In the game there are different types of Dragonborn, so specifically he’s Brass- which both deals fire damage breath, and is also resistant to fire.

Being one of the older players, his play style depends on the day. For the most part he is the cool, collected member of the party who doesn’t rush in and thinks things through... Until it’s later in the evening with a few drink in ‘em and then they just say, “Yeah, this might as well happen.” Before taking another shot and round-housing someone poor guy’s ass for mocking his scaly features.

Jackie- Half-Orc Fighter

Always wanting to be the hero, Jackie wants to fight and protect his fellow party members. He only has a few sessions under his belt, but he’s confident in saying that he's comfortable with playing more tanky characters and dealing heavy damage.

Jackie doesn’t have a lot of reasoning for his Race other than Orcs Are Cool so he just rolls with that.

As for his Class he likes having a bunch of different fighting styles to choose from while in combat so he can pick and choose which would work best for the situation (they also get more of a range in picking which Armor Class they want-).

His play style is Protect the Party, but also Rush In Head First Into Danger. He’s always in the front lines of a fight to tank the most damage and provide cover for the more squishy characters. It can get quite frustrating for the healer at times when he runs battleaxe-first into battle, leaving his head behind.

Speaking of healers-

Henrik- High Elf Alchemist

A lot like Anti, Henrik found the idea of playing to be quite silly. But once he got into it, the doctor found it quite enjoyable to get into a fantasy character and forget about the real world for a couple of hours. But wanting to retain some kind of dignity, he decided to play as a High Elf. He was drawn to their grace, wonderlust for adventure, and near perfectionism. To say the least, it's easy for him to slip into character.

Strictly speaking, Alchemist is not the the 5E DnD Handbook, but Jack allowed it and made some homebrew additions to the character so their party would actually have a fucking healer. So in addition to the damage-dealing bombs Henrik’s character uses, he also has a special healing bomb he can yeet at the other players when needed.

Henrik’s play style is serious, but curious. He’s always wanting to explore the world Jack created for them and peacefully interact with the NPCs, enjoying events that unfold naturally. However when it’s time for a proper fight he does not beat around the bush, staying in the back for more long-ranged attacks rather than right on the front lines.

Chase- Human Ranger

The recently-single father needed an outlet other than drinking to try and cope with the loss of his family. So like any good friend, Jack offered Chase a spot in his campaign that he was putting together! He wasn’t too sure at first, Chase said that the game seemed really complex and hard to get into. But Jack waves it off and told his friend, “You honestly have to fully jump into it if you’re gonna get anywhere. There’s not really a small way to start. It’s pretty much all or nothing. But trust me, it’s gonna be great!” And ever since his first session, Chase always looked forward to next week’s game.

Being one of the newer players, Chase doesn’t really play anything too crazy, so he sticks to his guns and runs a Human pc. And he may or may not have based the character on his old life to some degree. Giving himself a stable home, a fulfilling job, and a big loving family and at least 3 dogs. Ya’know, real heavy fantasy stuff.

Jack offered him the newer class/ homebrew of a Gunslinger, but he politely declined ‘cause he didn’t want to have to deal with new rules. So he decided to go with a Ranger for his class, figuring it would make for a cool character to play.

Chase’s play style is pretty average (no pun intended), and not all that spectacular. He gets a few good one-liners in here and there, but for the most part he plays passively. Fights when there’s a fight, and interacts almost only when others interact with him directly. (He’s been trying to get better at being more engaging, but he tends to zone out.)

Jameson- Halfling Bard

This session being JJ’s (and Robbie’s) first ever game, JJ pleasantly surprised Jack when he decided to be a Bard. When asked why, the silent man replied simply, “There’s nothing in the rules saying bards HAVE to sing. At the core of them, they are performers.” Jack beams and asks what’s their instrument of choice then? Jameson smiles and shows him this video, saying he thinks it would be interesting to have this as his musical item. (Also gotta love that good The Bard Seduces Everything trope. He’s keeping that in his back pocket for the right moment.)

As for being a Halfling, Jameson figured it would be fun to play a smaller character. And nobody ever suspects the small man to pack such a whaloop. But really, his love for the hobbits in the Tolkin books had captured his heart and really wanted to try and emulate that in the game! Maybe leaning more towards being a little prankster, but still at the core- in short- Soft Cottage Aesthetic™

Jameson’s play style is bouncy and go-gettem. He’s eager to explore the world and have fun with the NPCs. In battles he’s more comedic relief in the back inspiring the other players (and intimidating enemies by aggressively cranking his music box rapidly). And AT LEAST ONCE he has had Jackie’s character YEET his at the enemy to get the final blow to slay the beast. That was a fun session.

Anti- Changeling Rouge

Do I really gotta explain this one?

Naturally Anti always tries to play the edgiest characters he can. Giving them dark, moody personalities but with a slight crazed tick. (Chase naturally calls hypocrisy when Anti says his character is a self-insert to the game.)

I’m almost out of steam here so in short-

Anti loves the idea of having puppets to mess around with irl- so in the game he can somewhat do the same- by changing his figure/ features to mimic those of somebody to manipulate another. He doesn’t care much for the society around him and does his own thing, but can easily blend in and slip into other’s traditions if he needs to. His character has a tendency to pick fights pretending to be someone else before ducking out and watch the fight take place with a smirk on his hidden features. None of the party has ever seen his real face/ form, always changing it subtly so every time someone tries to take a second look something seems different or off.

Rouge: Quick and Stabby. Like the bitch himself.

Robbie- Undead Druid

Jack had to make a special homebrew character for Robbie ‘cause he was set on being an Undead. Apparently Robbie and Marvin talked about character ideas before hand and Robbie got a little overwhelmed with all the options that they had, so Marv suggested something Rob could relate to easier. So after an afternoon of crafting a special stat sheet, Jack allowed their favorite zombie ego to play.. Well, a zombie. (I’m sure someone else has made something similar out there but I might try and make a sheet later.. That could be fun lmao)

As for Druid, I like to see Robbie as being a little more connected to nature than the rest of the egos. Since he.. Yaknow, crawled out of the dirt at one point. (Side story- before the others found him in an old cemetery, he liked to just hang out around the area that was slowly being reclaimed by nature and liked watched the birds and animals). So he was pretty drawn to choosing this class. It’s a little complicated at points, but that’s why Marvin sits between him and JJ, so he can help them out through the whole process. Robbie gets really excited when one of his spells works in combat or just having fun interacting with the NPCs by growing them some flowers to be nice.

As a whole Robbie’s play style is pretty passive. He gets distracted pretty easily and unless Jack is waving his arms around or using miniatures/ figurines to keep a visual, the zombie will sometimes lose focus and stare off into space for a minute before coming back to the game and raising his hand for something to be repeated.

It’s one big mixing pot of different people and play styles, but at the end of the day, Jack has a lot of fun trying to bounce around and keep up with everyone’s antics and storylines. It’s hard as hell at times and it gets a little frustrating when things get out of hand, but they all try to check each other and keep things rolling. And at the end of the day, all the boys enjoy the game and what Jack has to offer and really fucking enjoy themselves. DnD is a good destresser for most of them and all around a grand fun time!

#shut up jelly #in which egos play dungeons and dragons #dnd au #jse egos #lace-maze

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0chronophobia0 · 5 years

Note

;; How do you imagine kurono relationship with each one of the members of the precepts?

-insert eyes emoji + sparkling emoji- this will be fun

ps- sorry this took so long to respond andlkjafkbhsegkb I fell asleep like 3 times while writing this and got distracted several times by philkas and malec

——–

Chisaki Kai (Overhaul)

So, it is normal to see Kurono hanging out in the background when Chisaki is in the room, as he’s always following him around in case he needs anything at all, Overhaul’s thirsty? He’s got him covered, Fiji water for the best boss on earth

Kurono has such a high admiration towards him, you’ll be able to catch him gazing at Chisaki and melting every time they lock stares, you’ll be able to view the exact moment Hari spills his uwus every time Kai looks at him

Would never dare address him as Chisaki or Kai though, he’d be dead where he stands if he did, he respects Kai too much, and therefore only calls him Overhaul, though sometimes he might slip but pick himself up before he can call him by his name, he’s slick and therefore able to distract Chisaki when stuff like this happens

They’ve known each other for the longest time, Kurono knows almost everything about Chisaki and views him as his best friend, yet Chisaki has a hard time admitting he too sees Hari as his friend, but it is not as if it bothers Hari, as he is completely fine with the fact that Kai doesn’t view him as highly as he does, or so he thinks, Kai’s the boss anyway so it SHOULD be this way, right?

Irinaka Joi (Mimic)

Their relationship is… complicated. like they are friends but they are not at the same time.

They’re both very competitive when it comes to being the best co-leader of the Shie hassaikai, they’ve got this silent game where they are always trying to outsmart each other, well more like it is Kurono trying to be better than Irinaka and getting frustrated when Joi receives praise and he doesn’t, but Hari ain’t gonna complain because complaining will lead him nowhere.

definitely takes advantage on the fact he’s very obviously Chisaki’s favorite to make sure Irinaka goes through a pranks hell, you bet Mimic was woken up in a daycare with other toys just as kids come racing in, of course, he can’t do much other than escape and assist work late because goddamn Hari had to so kindly deliver him to some children which pulled at his little arms and legs and drenched him in saliva, and also stabbed bows into his head, you know, peachy, has to burn that body afterwards because there’s no way in hell Kai will let him get close to him, so many fucking germs.

overall though, they are able to hold a serious conversation, but if they are left alone for too long Kurono might start pushing Joi’s buttons until the room becomes a battlefield.

when Kurono is angry he will pick up Mimic and throw him against a wall, it doesn’t hurt him much so… gotta take advantage of that.

Nemoto Shin

oh boy, oooooooohhhh boy. when you see these two together, you know you gotta be scared, be very afraid, they are NOT here for good, don’t move, don’t shake, don’t speak, don’t even b r e a t h e, one wrong move and you’re fucking dead

Together, they’re like those popular beautiful stereotypical blond high school girls, sarcasm is their virtue, and you bet they know every flaw about you, the moment they get together, and they land their eyes on you, you’re dead meat, so bitch you better go perfectly still or hoe, you already fckn ded.

Nemoto is Kurono’s go-to friend, since you know… Chisaki isn’t exactly the best best friend, Kurono has Nemoto to back him up whenever he needs something Kai can’t provide, aka something emotional or physical, Hari finds Shin lots of fun and it isn’t rare to catch them talking when Chisaki is nowhere to be seen, or even laughing with each other.

They do tend to keep things strictly professional around Chisaki or Irinaka though, often meeting up right after to talk about whatever and chitchat

It may not seem like it, but Kurono loves drama, and who better than Nemoto to make people spill the tea? His quirk’s name should be tea spiller, not Confession, and honestly? Hari loves it, something he will more than proudly admit

When the situation is given, they both flirt with each other and call each other lovey nicknames, you know like… “asshole”, “dickhead”, and occasionally they address each other as “boo” but that’s more of a friendly thing

None of them talk about it but once they got so high together the next day they woke up in the same bed, luckily fully dressed, but it ain’t like either of them cares, it is simply that Chisaki would kill Hari if he knew this.

Sakaki Deidoro

Well there isn’t much to say about Kurono’s relationship with him, other than he occasionally tagging along with him and Nemoto to go bar hopping incognito at 3 AM while Chisaki is asleep, Kurono often being forced to take a thorough shower when he gets back because the smell of alcohol isn’t something Chisaki likes to find on his #1 assistant

For the most part, their relationship is due to work, as Kurono doesn’t see himself to be great friends with him, but still is willing to socialize with him, after all, he isn’t supposed to form strong bonds/relationships with the expendable bullets of the yakuza

Rikiya Katsukame

Again, there isn’t much to say, Hari things Rikiya is hot, he’s tall, muscular, and able to burst through a wall very easily, Kurono finds that amusing, and therefore is often seen checking him out with Nemoto, who simply agrees and adds on lmao.

_Doesn’t even talk to him tho unless it’s job-related, though sometimes he might tell him he’s done a good job after accomplishing a mission and leaves right after_

Hekiji Tengai

so, their relationship is quite complicated, since there are times Hari is responsible, stoic, and well-mannered, which is when he gets along with Tengai, they will talk politely over a cup of hot chocolate and Kurono will keep him up to date with anything he knows

but then there is when Kurono is in the mood to mess with everyone and you bet Tengai is his go-to target

Hari will tease him non-stop and make sure Tengai regrets seeing him that day, though when overhaul walks in he can’t say shit since by the end of the day he’s just another expendable serving under their command, and it’s not like Hari bothers him that much, as it is mostly just Kurono budging him and likely to get slapped, which only causes Hari to laugh whenever he’d get hit after annoying him

Rappa Kendou

Hari’s #3 favorite tbh, like, he simply likes this guy, there are no reasons why. Actually, there is, and it is that Rappa is simply a big puppy? You know, the kind to destroy your house while you’re gone and wants to bite everything with its little hurtfully sharp teeth? That Rappa to Hari

He’s so big,,,, Kurono loves that, he loves having to look up to stare at him in the face, he loves his strong build, he loves his arms, oh god his arms

you bet Kurono loves praising Rappa, whenever he fights, after overhaul, he is the first one to get a piece of Hari’s mind about his well-done job, thus boosting the guy’s ego, he often finds himself being able to control him better than many, this thanks to his quirk quick practically paralyzes him? until he’s calmed down

Kurono loves his gigantic pupper, you bet that Hari spoils him, Rappa is a good guy, if only he didn’t want to fight everyone to literal death, and that’s something Kurono acknowledges and finds amusing, he does his own thing, and doesn’t like being put into teams, as it has been seen before, but we all know Hari would not say no to overhaul

Setsuno Toya

Toya, Hari, and Shin are the mean girls of the Shie hassaikai, Hari is Regina George, Shin is Gretchen Weiners, and Toya is Karen Smith, he has the least power out of the three, but he’s nice to have around so they keep him in the group lmao

Kurono talks to Toya more through text than face to face, mostly because they send each other lots of memes and funny/ugly selfies, they also make mischievous plans to mess with Overhaul almost every day, and rarely have they been caught

Setsuno allows Hari to take his phone and send Overhaul vines asking him to see them, after all, Toya is suicidal, so he’s got nothing to lose, and even though Kurono appreciates Setsuno as a pal, he knows he can’t get attached, and therefore just does as he wants

though when Setsuno needs help, Kurono is more than willing to offer himself first, he may not be very good with advice and emotions though, but he is a good listener and will sit and hear him out through every rant along with a cup of hot chocolate

They once made a plan together to prank overhaul and Kurono replaced Chisaki’s usual black surgeon mask with one that said ‘owo’ one morning and paid Toya to go up to him and say “good mowning mitew owohauw” and record it, but in addition to that, which made the video way better, Overhaul replied with a sigh, and in a very disappointed tone… “hewwo”

Soramitsu Tabe

chompy boie, Kurono doesn’t usually talk to him, but sometimes he will bring the weirdest foods and feed them to Tabe just for fun

He likes to invite him and Hojo when he hands out with Setsuno, since they are Toya’s friends, and together they will find reckless/fun stuff to do, of course, Overhaul never knows that Hari tags along with them, they keep Kurono covered -insert thumbs up emoji-

Once, Hari gathered all the precepts and made them sit in a circle around Tabe and brought in a deep fried sock, together they all chanted until Tabe was so overwhelmed he ended up eating the sock

Yu Hojo

welp, Hojo is one of the only people he actually maintains a calm and professional relationship with, unless the gang gets together, but that’s another story

They chat and discuss about serious topics, sometimes Tengai will join them, and they’ll have a nice and calm time spent together but that’s about all they do

They also read novels and watch those dramatic Mexican novellas, and it is normal to see them talk about them, Hari knows Spanish and has tried teaching Hojo, but his accent is poor and his pronunciation is hopeless, though Hari still tries to teach him and Hojo tries even harder to learn

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fanficsaremylifeline · 4 years

Text

Rumour has it

On AO3:

https://archiveofourown.org/works/20654384

*****

“Hey, Lydia.“ Marlize Starkweather came running up to her. “Heard you’re heading out to New York.”

“I am”, she nodded, “Inquisitor Herondale is sending me to check up on things. Ever since Valentine’s daughter showed up, everything’s a total mess.”

“You sure that’s the only reason you’re going?”, Louisa Lovelace grinned, coming up on Lydia’s left.

“I am not going there to snatch up the Lightwood guy.”

“Sure, you aren’t”, Marlize smirked, “so you wouldn’t mind if I went in your place?”

“Nice try. I’m going to New York to get shit done, not to get hitched.” With that, Lydia pushed past her friends into her office, the girls following right behind her.

“Who says you can’t do both?”

“And besides”, Louisa leaned over Lydia’s desk, looking around before whispering: “I have it, he’s looking to settle down.”

Lydia just rolled her eyes. “Right, because Idris-gossip is so reliable.”

“I heard it from Sophia Carstairs, who got it from Elena Underhill, who overheard Maryse Lightwood herself. His mother reliable enough for you?”

She stayed silent, but Lydia couldn’t help the grin spreading over her face.

“Come on!”, Marlize urged her, “everybody knows that Alexander Lightwood is THE eligible bachelor in all of Idris and the Institutes. His dad is rumoured to be next in line for Inquisitor and Alec himself is en route to become Head of the New York Institute.”

“And he’s so hot!”, Louisa blurted out with the widest grin.

“So hot”, Marlize agreed. “You know, last time he was in Alicante, I saw him training. Shirtless.”

“No, you didn’t.”

“Oh yes, I did.”

“Right”, Lydia interrupted the fangirls, “because him being hot is the pivotal argument.”

“It doesn’t hurt”, Marlize grinned back, hopping on Lydia’s desk, letting her feet dangle. “And I mean, he knows that you’d be a good catch.”

“Exactly! Besides from you obviously being awesome, just imagine: a Lightwood and a Branwell, joined in marriage… The raw power!”

“I mean, every girl in Idris would want to kill you for it, but I’m sure he’d be worth that.”

“Ah, can you imagine, being saved by Alexander Lightwood?”, Louisa cooed, spinning through Lydia’s office.

“I think I can look after myself just well enough”, Lydia stated.

“Even better! Battle Couple!”

“Ok, that’s enough. I need to get my stuff; the Mme Inquisitor has a portal ready for me in an hour. So, just let me be and I’ll see you in a few days.”

“Probably with a big engagement ring on your finger”, Marlize snickered, ducking just in time to avoid being hit in the head with a wallet.

Fine, the girls had a point; a good point. Alexander was the optimal husband-material and every girl Lydia knew was into him. And she couldn’t really fault them for that, admittedly. He was good looking, very much so; he was smart, one of the best Shadowhunters Lydia knew of; eldest son of one of the most influential and respectable families in Idris and he had the most promising future ahead of him.

Long story short, a girl had to be out of her mind not to want him.

Now, Lydia wasn’t exactly into all that gossip; she really didn’t get all the girls angsting after him, keeping track of his marital status or fantasizing about that guy. She’d be lying though, if she said she wasn’t intrigued. And Lydia was really looking forward to meeting him soon.

.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.

“Alec? You alright?”

So lost in his thoughts, Alec didn’t hear Izzy walk up until she stood right in front of him.

“Yeah. Why wouldn’t I be?”

“Because ever since you and Lydia came back, you’ve been extra grumpy.” She looked up at him with those big, soul-searching eyes and he knew her well enough to know that she wouldn’t budge until he told her the truth.

“Haven’t you heard?” He shot her the fakest grin. “I’m looking to settle down!”

“You are?”

“According to Lydia and the Idris gossip I am.”

“Oh, shit.” Izzy put her hand on his arm. “I’m sorry. Was it Mum?”

“Probably”, he scoffed.

“Listen, just ‘cause she’s spreading rumours, doesn’t mean you’re forced into anything”, Izzy assured him

“Yeah right…” Alec got up and headed for the door.

“Where are you going?”

“I need some air.”

Pulling his jacket close, he just started walking. Why was his Mum pushing this so much? She didn’t know, did she? It would be absolutely devastating if she did; it would explain though, why she wanted him to get married. Just imagine the scandal: Alexander Lightwood – Gay. It’s not like he wanted to come out or anything; if he did, he could probably kiss everything he ever wanted and worked for goodbye.

So, maybe he should just get it over with, marry some Shadowhuntergirl like Lydia. The Branwells were just as respectable as the Lightwoods, it would put him and his family in a good political position and besides, Lydia was nice, smart, a damn good Shadowhunter and yes, it wasn’t romantic, but she would benefit just as much as Alec would.

It did sound like a good idea, if it weren’t for a certain High Warlock of Brooklyn…

.-.-.-.-.-.-.

“Alexander!”, Magnus greeted him with a wide smile, “what a lovely surprise.”

“Hi. I’m not disturbing?”

“Never.” Magnus motioned for Alec to come inside and with the wave of a hand and some blue flames later, he held a drink out to Alec. “Cheers!”

After toasting, Alec downed the whole thing in one big gulp. That was an unusual sight on the normally so restrained Shadowhunter.

“Woah there, those drinks are meant to be savoured!”

“Sorry.” Alec put the glass down on the table and looked around the living room, looking indecisive, almost worried. “Sorry”, he mumbled, “I should probably go.”

“Or”, Magnus suggested, “you could take a seat and tell me what’s bothering you.”

He did not sit down, and Magnus could see the internal struggle going on. Well, Alexander has been taught his entire life that he cannot trust a Downworlder, opening up to Magnus probably went against every fibre of his training.

Tough. He came to Magnus, obviously distraught and in need to vent or something like that. And sure, Magnus would never deny the little skip his heart did when the pretty boy crossed his path but leading a Shadowhunter out of the closet was not his job.

Besides, he couldn’t force him to open up. No, Magnus didn’t want to force him to open up, he had better things to do. And if Alexander wanted or needed someone to vent, or needed help with something, then he should just get it out with and ask; Magnus would not play a guessing game, no matter how much he was into those steel blue eyes.

“Fuck, this is the last place I should be right now”, Alec muttered; didn’t make any move to leave, though.

“Yeah, you need another one of those”, Magnus decided, filling up Alec’s glass again, which he downed just like the first one. “How many more do you need until you start telling me what’s wrong?” Damnit, Magnus really let himself get roped in whenever Alexander was in front of him.

“Apparently, I’m looking to settle down”, he blurted out, eyes wide, putting his glass back down again.

Oh damn; a serious emotional issue, that was not Magnus’ fortitude. Maybe Magnus could charm himself out of that one. “Well, Alexander, don’t you think we should go on one date at least?”

Alec stayed silent; his face still ashen and hard as if he were one of the statues Magnus had standing in his apartment. Damnit, usually Magnus was flirty enough to break any sort of tension. “I’m sorry”, he apologized, “if you want to talk about it…” He held his arms open in the most dramatic fashion he could and draped himself on the couch.

“Apparently it’s the number one gossip in Alicante”, Alec groaned as he paced up and down the living room. “I assume it’s Mum who spread it and according to Lydia, it’s taken hold. I mean, what the fuck did she think she’d achieve? Pressure me into getting married?”

Uff. That was a wonderful thing to hear about the guy you’re really into. Sure, Magnus never thought it’d be a walk in the park, trying to get with a Shadowhunter, but the Clave really had so many sticks up their asses, it was making it all ridiculously complicated.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to bitch like that, it’s not your issue, is it?”

The fuck it isn’t! Magnus didn’t want Alec to marry some Shadowhunter girl, he wanted him to come out and go on a proper fucking date with Magnus! That wouldn’t help right now, though.

“That’s alright, Alexander”, Magnus forced himself to smile, “Just so I know what exactly you’re bitching about: is there a specific woman you’re rumoured you’re getting married to or is there just a bunch of Shadowhunter fangirls hoping to be the lucky one?”

Alexander blushed furiously and turned around, trying to hide his face from Magnus.

“The second one, got it”, Magnus grinned, taking another sip from his drink. “An I-love-Alexander-Lightwood-fanclub… Gotta say, if I were allowed in Alicante, I might just get in on that.”

Finally, the Shadowhunter cracked a small smile. Man, Magnus had started to fear that he had lost his mojo…

“Listen, your mother can’t force you to do anything you don’t want to do. And if all of Idris thinks that a marriage should be of political value or should only be between a man and a woman, well, unless you agree with them, you don’t have to do anything like that.” He was quiet a moment. What if Alexander did think like that and Magnus was here, getting infatuated with him? “Do you think like they do?”

“I don’t know”, he sighed and fell on a chair. “Fuck, why can’t I just fall in love with a respectable Shadowhunter woman like Lydia?”

“That’s not how love works...”

“Well, how should I know?”, he shot back. “My whole life long, I’ve been taught how the good Lightwood name stood above everything else, how our duty to the Clave is the chief responsibility to every Shadowhunter. My life’ll be certainly easier if I do follow those ideals”, he shrugged, grabbing for the glass that Magnus had already filled up again.

“Sure, it might be easier, but will it be a good life?”

“I mean, that’s how you make Inquisitor…”

“I’m not talking about rank, success, I’m talking about you”, Magnus explained. “I’m talking about happiness, satisfaction, pride in who you are and what you do… Real love.”

“Well, not everybody has the luxury to just do what they like, damn the consequences and conjure a cocktail out of thin air”, Alec scoffed and Magnus decided to play over the bitter tone of his voice and pretended, like it didn’t hurt him.

“You came to me to vent and I’m just giving you my honest take on the situation. If you don’t want to hear it, why come here in the first place? Especially since you know that I do not share the Clave’s opinion”, Magnus shot back, and yep, a little harsher than he needed to.

“Sorry”, Alec mumbled, fidgeting with his fingers. “You’re right.”

“Of course I am. I assume the very fact that I don’t support the Clave’s idea of love, happiness and whatnot is the reason you came here in the first place.”

By the way Alexander blushed, Magnus couldn’t be far off.

“I guess… Doesn’t really make anything easier, though.”

“Life isn’t easy, Alexander. Especially the good things you have to fight for. But they are worth it. What do I know, though”, he chuckled, “I’ve only got the odd century of life experience…”

“Right”, Alec nodded with what was almost a grin and got up. “Thanks for the listening and the advice and the drinks. I should get back to the Institute, though, we have a Mortal Cup to guard after all.”

“Sure thing.” Well, the Shadowhunter didn’t look as tense as when he waltzed in here, Magnus observed with a proud smile and waved after Alec as he turned and in big strides stormed back out.

Well, the ball was in Alec’s corner now; Magnus just hoped he would make the right decision. And by that, he obviously meant himself. What a giant fuck-you to the Clave that’d be! One of their most promising youngsters rebuffing everything they pretend they don’t stand for but actually teach it from the earliest age on; all that for the fabulous High Warlock of Brooklyn. Well, a Warlock could dream…

#shadowhunters #lydia branwell #alec lightwood #izzy lightwood #maryse lightwood #magnus bane

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essaysbyciara · 5 years

Text

Thy Neighbor II: Lovin’ The Crew [Chapters 11 + 12]

[Prologue] [Chapters 1 + 2] [Chapters 3 + 4] [Chapter 5] [Chapter 6] [Chapters 7 + 8] [Chapters 9 + 10]

Man, we’re eight chapters away from the end of this story. Ugh. Let’s see who gets on y’all nerves this week LMAOOO.

OH! I started a Yahya Abdul-Mateen II x Reader story called (1) New Message. Check it out if you haven’t done so already!

As always, thank youuuuuuuuuuuuu for the likes, comments and love. Taglist is still open! Peace & (most importantly) Love!

CHAPTER ELEVEN

“It’s okay, Jasmine...” Ciara finds herself Monday morning in the bathroom stall at Proverbs’ Camden location rubbing the back of a seven-year-old girl puking up a liquid Ciara can’t quite figure out. When Ciara signed up to volunteer at Proverbs, she expected to peer into the eyes of Y’lan, not the contents of a toilet. But as the only woman volunteering that morning, she bides her time inside the restroom with little Jasmine as she tosses up her little life.

Ciara went to church on Sunday slightly hungover with thighs that ached to the delight of Trevante. Even as she started to reconcile her decision to break her rule to have sex with Trevante, she found herself always reminded in church about being “in the world, not of the world” and how we all need to “stand firm”, a sermon series in Ephesians convicting her as if she was up for capital murder.

Ciara’s decision to not have sex wasn’t a biblical one. It wasn’t because the Church told her to keep her legs closed or because as a Christian, she is to save herself for marriage. She found all of these rules to be antiquated and patriarchal. Ciara chose to be celibate to prevent the heartache of sleeping with someone who would leave her, to not end up like she did after her ex-boyfriend left her: waxing her rejection away with as much sex as she could. As soon as she knew her man to be committed, she’d be down to consummate their love but Trevante hadn’t make them official, so Ciara jumped the gun. So she wouldn’t get left.

So when she saw that phone call grace Trevante’s phone, she wanted so bad to throw the phone at Trevante and walk out. But she didn’t want him to then call that girl back and leave Ciara out in the cold. So her heart -- and her nether regions -- made an executive decision to make Trevante stay. Whoever “Meganne Thee Intern” was would have to wait for her turn.

CIara wishes it is someone else’s turn to coddle Jasmine inside of the bathroom. When she thinks Jasmine has no more puke left to give, she picks her up and carries her outside of the bathroom. To her delight, Y’lan is standing right outside waiting for them both to exit.

“Yo, Ciara … I really appreciate you right now.”

“Oh, I know...is her Mom on the way to get her or something?”

“Her Aunt is coming. She ain’t happy but the girl ain’t going to school like this…”

Ciara cradles Jasmine’s head as she looks into Y’lan eyes, causing him to match her glance. They exhale to break their trance.

“Do you have clothes for accidents? I want to get her in a new shirt,” Ciara says, wiping Jasmine’s eyes to stop her from using her stained shirt.

“Yeah. There’s a closet down the hall before the steps, to your left. I’m sure you can find something for her.”

Ciara consoles Jasmine as she walks down the hallway. Y’lan stares at Ciara as she carries her patient, adoring her care of Jasmine in that moment. He’s happy the church ladies chose to take this Monday off.

Y’lan walks into the kitchen just as Winston finishes prepping the after school snacks for later. Winston was caught by surprise when he walked into Proverbs to see Ciara sitting at the table with some of the children, helping them try to finish their math homework before heading off to school. Winston didn’t want his car ride with Ciara to end, the both of them waxing off about their favorite rap albums and college courses.

He found himself enraptured in Ciara as she talked about her research paper, falling in love with her enthusiasm toward her project. He picked her brain to know the best place to grab a bite of Carribean food in the city, she picked his brain about Harlem, New York, the city he lived in before moving to Philadelphia. The conversation felt so natural, as if they met in another lifetime. He couldn’t help but think about who she was dating and what a lucky guy he must be.

And how it was that guy’s loss and Winston’s gain to be able to drive Ciara home that night.

Winston and Y’lan quit their small talk when Ciara walks into the kitchen.

“Hey, Y’lan. I just gave Jasmine to her Aunt, so we’re good. There anything else you want me to do before I head out?”

“No, Ciara. You did enough today. I appreciate you. See you on Thursday at U City?”

“Yep! I think I might have some really good news for you. See you then. Winston, so good to see you! I’ll see you later!”

Ciara waves at them both. Winston follows her graceful exit with a stare which Y’lan mirrors until he notices Winston’s unbreakable gaze. He laughs and throws a bag of Goldfish snacks at Winston, causing Winston to quit following Ciara with his eyes.

“My bad, man…,” Winston says to Y’lan breaking his stare with a laugh.

“No, it’s cool. I just ain’t ever seen you like that.”

“There ain’t drool on my shirt, right?” Winston looks down at the blue cotton fabric draping his broad chest. .

Y’lan laughs uncontrollably.

“Nah, you good King. She’s bad, bruh. Y’all have classes together?”

“We have some seminarian classes together. I have to be careful, man. I feel like she catches me looking at her all the time.”

“Yeah, she’s good for that…”

“Hey, man. If you staking claim on that, I’ll bow out.” Winston’s shot confidence causes him to believe that his tall and soft body with a bespeckled visage can’t compete with a former football player like Y’lan.

“Real talk, Winston...she and I had a thing about a year or so ago.”

Winston’s heart catches another dagger. He knows the rules.

“My bad, man. Ain’t mean to…”

“Nah, bruh. You’re good. We’re adults. It didn’t work out, it wasn’t her fault. She caught me when I was out here tripping. I thought she’d kill me when I first told her what happened. I’m surprised she’s even volunteering. The non-profit she works for is helping us find staff.”

“Maybe she’s plotting your murder, eh? But nah, she seems like a good girl.”

“Yep, she is…”

Y’lan continues packing lunches until he catches Winston’s mood turn from jubilant to desolate.

“Winston, you aight?”

“Stuff like this makes me realize that I’m so scared to date. I keep getting scared about relationships, man. Like I don’t want to meet a woman and punk out or think it’s going to fail.”

“Yo, man. I think you’re being too hard on yourself. You’ve been doing the work to get yourself right since the divorce. If you think you’re ready to step out there, you should do it.”

“Wild thing is that I did with Ciara, man, and failed.” Winston shakes his head.

“What you mean?” Y’lan grows more inquisitive.

“I asked her out like months ago, worked up the nerve and everything. And she turned me down.”

“Word? I mean, she met you through me at the time when she and I were beefing real heavy.”

“Maybe but she told me she was dating somebody, so...” Winston goes back to packing lunches leaving Y’lan’s mind to go back to that moment inside of U City Coffee when Trevante offered to take Ciara home and it made his senses go off.

“She’s dating not married, man.” Y’lan says to reassure Winston. And himself.

“You’re right, bruh. So are you telling me to stay close?”

Y’lan inadvertently juices up Winston, turning him into the competition. But now he’s even more sure that Trevante’s been in a race too and he needs just one opportunity to find out for sure.

CHAPTER TWELVE

“Hey, man. I can’t wait for this launch event in March,” Y’lan says as he steps away from the conference room table and closer to Trevante.

Y’lan and Trevante couldn’t be anymore different. Trevante’s tailored suits and crisp ties make Y’lan’s polo shirts and jeans look juvenile. Y’lan’s wild but kept hair towers over Trevante’s crisp fade, waves distinguishable from a mile away. They both play match with the beard, keeping it lined and tight.

Y’lan reformed choir boy antics don’t compare to “Playboy Tre”, what Y’lan calls Trevante. He grimaces at the “war stories” he hears from Trevante, only because he used to be worse. Even though he tries to caution Trevante to get it together, he doubts that he ever listens, watching Trevante put new numbers into his phone like they could win the lottery. He hoped that his talks about futures and wives and happy ever afters would get to Trevante. He just wasn’t expecting Ciara to be the result.

Y’lan knows he has to ask Trevante if he and Ciara are together for sanity’s sake. But he also feels that it is not his job to inquire. If anyone needs to fess up, it would be Ciara to Trevante. She owes Trevante at least the courtesy to know that she’s working with a man who once dreamed to sex her and would have if Ciara wasn’t so upright.

After hearing Winston’s desires for Ciara’s attention, Y’lan quickly concedes his participation in the sweepstakes game to win Ciara. As much as he wants Ciara, their history is too messy and complicated. Y’lan did her dirty, he has no right to believe that Ciara would be interested in rekindling their flame even if they let their embers burn at the coffee shop and with intermittent stares at Proverbs the other morning. He knows that feeling will pass. Ciara will wake up, smell his coffee, and go back to hating his guts.

Therefore, Ciara is fair game to Winston.

But not Trevante.

“I’ll meet you at the whiskey bar on 2nd St. in about an hour, fam. I gotta send some final emails.”

“Bet, see you there.” Y’lan daps Trevante and walks out of Trevante’s office, almost walking into Meganne, who was turning into Trevante’s office to hand him one of his email marketing reports.

After sleeping with Ciara, Trevante noticed two missed calls and multiple texts from Meganne, some with attachments he was happy Ciara wasn’t awake to see. He knows he must tell Meganne to chill out, hopefully as pain free as possible. But as it always is with Trevante, telling a hopeful woman “no” never ends well.

“Hey, Meganne, you have a second?”

Meganne hasn’t mentioned her text and phone attack on Trevante. He thinks that she’s too embarrassed or too drunk to remember.

“Sure!” Meganne sits down on the chair in front of Trevante’s desk.

“When did you put your number in my phone?”

“Oh! Yeah … when we were at the bar the other night. I thought it would make things easier. If you needed to reach me or whatever.”

“You should’ve asked me first.”

Meganne feels rejection in the air. She fights to not inhale.

“I’m sorry, Trevante. I figured you wanted it after the other night.”

“What happened the other night?” Trevante is clueless as to what he did.

“One of your friends asked us if we wanted to go to Atlantic City with you guys. I figured you needed it to plan and everything.”

Trevante and Y’lan already let their friends know about the trip to Atlantic City for Michael’s bachelor party. What started as a trip for five -- Michael, Yahya, Trevante, Y’lan and Michael’s cousin, Sterling -- is turning into a 15-man trip with both Trevante and Michael’s fraternity brothers in attendance. There isn’t an expectation of women being present. Especially not the 21-year-old intern and her friends.

“It’s a guys trip, Meganne. My bad. I wish he told you.”

“Oh, it’s okay! You still have my number though if you want to link up.”

“I can’t, Meganne. You gotta stop sending me pictures too. My girl don’t like that at all.”

Meganne’s enthusiasm turns into mush.

“Oh, you have a girlfriend? I’m sorry, Tre. I didn’t mean to violate.”

“It’s cool, you didn’t know.”

Meganne catches her embarrassment enough to walk out of Trevante’s office. Trevante doesn’t regret using Ciara as an excuse to get out of this mess. Even if Ciara isn’t his girl yet.

That’s what he hopes to talk to Y’lan about.

Taglist: @doublesidedscoobysnacks @diva-princess-on-fleek @voyagetoadinas9 @walkrightuptothesun @wvsspoppin @dreamlovealways @rockwit609 @thegayaxeman @joyfulwombatdreamermaker @blackpinup22 @hookedtoherfire @kris-did-it @l-auteuse @styleismyaddiction

#trevante rhodes #y'lan noel #winston duke #thy neighbor #trevante rhodes x fanfiction #fanfic

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mommabearclarke · 6 years

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Everything has changed (and now it's only you that matters)

A SpierFeld fic Rated: A for Angst and F for Fluff Summary: Receiving a call from the hospital about a car crash victim is the scariest thing Simon has ever experienced. Finding out who it is is even worse. Also on: ao3 A/n: So I tried my hand at the angst stuff, which is not usually my strong suit because I turn it into fluff pretty quickly. I hope I at least managed to do some angst, and I hope you like it.

(Yes, the title is from Wild Hearts again. Yes, I listened to the entire album this time. Yes, I'm still a mess.)

Simon was hanging out in Nick’s basement with Nick, Leah and Abby when he got the call. It’d been an excellent day up till then. School had been let out early because of the snow, and they had been playing Assassin’s Creed and bombarding each other with popcorn for the better part of the last few hours. Waking up in Bram’s bed did help start the day right.

He was just relieving the blissful fifteen minutes they had spend trying to get out of bed, each of them pulling the other back as they tried to get up, when his phone rang. Abby was closest to it, so she picked it up, looked at the caller ID, shrugged and tossed it to Simon, who caught it deftly before picking up. “Simon Spier,” he said, by way of greeting.

“Mr Spier?” an unknown voice at the other end of the line said, “This is Emory University Hospital – ” Simon’s blood ran cold. His mind immediately flashed to his parents, Nora or Alice. His parents and Nora had been visiting downtown Atlanta when the snowstorm hit; they had been planning on just staying there until it calmed down, but what if they’d decided to try it? Oh god, oh god, oh God.

“Simon?” Leah said, her voice filled with concern. Simon supposed he’d gone extremely pale. He waved in general to shut everyone up. Nick paused the game. Abby was staring at him intently.

“What’s going on?” Simon asked the lady.

“We’ve just had a car crash victim brought in, and you’re marked down as his emergency contact.” Simon’s heart clenched, as the woman continued. “A Mr Abraham Greenfeld.” Simon let out an audible gasp. Bram. Simon had been sure Bram was fine, as he’d been heading over to his father’s this morning. He should’ve arrived before the storm.

“Oh my God,” he managed to choke out. “Is he – ?” He couldn’t bear to say it. His eyes were stinging, and he was losing feeling in his legs. His friends were sitting down around him, Leah putting her hand on his shoulder. Abby was holding her hands over her mouth, apparently holding her breath.

“He’s alive, he’s pretty banged up, but the doctors are confident he’s going to pull through.”

Tears spilled over his cheeks as Simon’s relief broke over him. He sagged against Leah, who wrapped an arm around him. “Oh, thank God, thank God,” he finally said. “When can I come see him?”

The woman seemed to look something up for a moment. “The doctor says he’ll be finished with Mr Greenfeld in 20 minutes. You can come see him then.”

Simon looked at his watch. It was about a 15 minute drive up there, but in this weather... “Alright, I’m coming now. Thank you,” he said, automatically, because that’s what you did when someone gave you information over the phone.

His friends immediately talked over each other to get some answers. In the end, Leah was the one to make herself heard. “What’s happened?!” she all but yelled, causing Nick and Abby to fall silent.

Simon was shaking, already getting to his feet and looking thoughtlessly for his things. “Bram was in an accident.” The three of them gasped. “I need to go see him, now.”

“Simon, you can’t,” Abby protested instantly, walking over to him, pulling his bag out of his hands again.

Simon flared up at once. “My boyfriend’s in the hospital, Abby! I’m going to go fucking see him, right fucking now!”

“Don’t you start on her – ” Nick began, but Abby waved him off, apparently unfazed at Simon’s outburst.

“You’re fucking shaking, Si. There’s no way you can drive in this state.” She took his hand and gently guided him back to the couch. Simon only struggled a little, but both Nick and Leah were showing signs of wanting to stop him going. “You need to calm down first.” She sat down next to him and wrapped his arms around him. Leah joined in, and then Nick wrapped the three of them in a giant bear hug. Simon had never felt so sheltered and at the same time so trapped in his entire life. The warmth of his friends’ embrace and the knowledge that they were there for him, finally broke him. Huge, ugly sobs wracked his body as tears spilled down his cheeks, and his brain went through all the horrible things that could be wrong with Bram. Or could still go wrong. The lady had said he was stable, but Simon had seen enough medical shows to know that stable did not mean “out of danger completely and sure to recover”.

Abby and Leah were both rubbing his back. They didn’t say it was going to be okay. They didn’t say anything. And honestly, Simon didn’t know if he could’ve handled them trying to calm him down. His boyfriend was in the hospital. Simon had honestly never been more scared in his life. After ten minutes of ugly-crying his eyes out, he felt exhausted and dried up. He was still scared, but no more tears would come. Abby, Leah and Nick slowly unwound themselves from him, and Nick rose to his feet. “Alright, Si. I’m going to ask my father to drive us up there. No way you’re driving us anywhere whilst you’re this worried.”

“’Us’?” Simon said, confused, as Nick ran up the stairs.

Leah let out a small laugh. “Of course, Si. We’re coming with you.”

At a loss for words, he stared at her and then at Abby, who nodded with vigour. “I have the best friends in the world,” he choked out in the end, and hugged the pair of them again.

Nick came thundering down the stairs again with his father in tow. Mr Eisner asked a few short questions about the situation, put a hand on Simon’s shoulder and smiled encouragingly. “It’s going to be alright, son. I’ll take you there.”

And after gathering up their things, the four of them followed Mr Eisner up the stairs and out into the snow, which had finally stopped falling.

The ride to the hospital was excruciating. They had to drive about twenty miles below the speed limit for half of it, since the suburb roads hadn’t been shovelled yet. Simon was going out of his mind with worried. He’d already called his parents, to whom he’d sobbed the story, and who promised to get to the hospital as soon as they could get out of their hotel. Then he’d called Alice – for the first time in a very long time, he felt like he needed his big sister.

“Oh Si, I’m sorry,” Alice sighed out, after Simon had explained the situation (without completely breaking down this time). “But the nurse said he’s stable, right?”

“Yeah, but that doesn’t mean anything!” Simon said in desperation. “There could be complications, or internal bleeding, or something they missed, or – ”

Alice cut across him, “Before you spiral out of control, bub, please remember that this is the best hospital in Atlanta – I went there to get my tonsils removed, remember? I hardly felt a thing afterwards and they gave me so much ice cream I got nauseated!” Simon had to laugh despite himself. He remembered it well. Alice had been feeling so well after the surgery that she’d eaten a little more ice cream than was strictly necessary, and had gotten promptly queasy. She hadn’t eaten ice cream for a few months after that. “Look, Simon, I’m not gonna pretend nothing can go wrong. But the doctors are optimistic, and that means you should be, too, until told otherwise. Alright?”

Simon smiled, and amazingly, optimism welled up inside him through all the worry and misery. “Thanks, sis,” he said. They turned on the hospital parking lot at that moment. His stomach lurched. “We’re here. Gotta go.”

“Give me updates, okay? I love that little weirdo.” He could hear a fond smile in her voice.

“Me, too,” Simon said. “Love you, Alice,”

“Love you, too, bub.”

He hung up, and scrambled out of the car, almost face-planting in the full feet of snow outside. Nick yanked him back by the hood of his sweater just in time. “Alright, let’s go,” Mr Eisner said, and they all made their way to the hospital as quickly as possible.

Inside, Simon ran to the information desk. “Hi, my name is Simon Spier, I’m here to see Bram Greenfeld,” he said quickly to the nurse, who checked her computer.

“Yes, Mr Greenfeld is in room 224. Straight up there, take the elevator to the second floor and straight on till you meet the end. He’s been asking for you.” That meant he was awake. Simon exchanged relieved glances with his friends, and thanked the nurse.

Simon, followed closely by Leah, Nick and Abby, practically ran to the elevator, and punched the ‘2’ button all the way up to the second floor. Walking faster than strictly appropriate in a hospital, they went down the corridor until they hit the final room. 224. Simon stood in front of it, his stomach churning. He wanted to go in so badly, but he was afraid of what he might see. Of what state Bram might be in. Nick put his hand on his shoulder. “We’re with you, buddy.”

Simon nodded, took a deep breath, and pushed open the door.

Bram was lying on the hospital bed, covered by a blue sheet and tubes running from both his arms. His heart beating in his throat, Simon approached the bed carefully, afraid to come closer, but dying to all the same. He stopped right at the edge of the bed, staring down at Bram’s face. Bram’s eyes were closed and he was breathing deeply and easily. He was obviously asleep. He also looked terrible. His face was littered with cuts, both large and small. His hands were resting on the covers next to his body, both wrists were heavily bandaged. Simon could scarcely think about the rest of his body.

Very slowly, Simon reached out and gently took Bram’s hand in his own. The hand was warm, which gave him slightly more hope in the whole situation. He looked back to see his friends lingering by the door, obviously giving Simon the space he needed.

The touch seemed to rouse Bram. His fingers tightened around Simon’s hand first, and then the rest of his body started to move. “Simon?” Bram said, his voice impossibly small, and Simon’s heart broke all over again.

“Bram,” he breathed, and dropped to his knees besides the bed, taking Bram’s hand in both his own and pressing his lips to the back of it, “I’m here, baby. I’m here, it’s me.”

“Simon,” Bram’s eyes blinked open, and he turned his head to look at Simon, smiling, then winced, “what happened?”

“You were in a car crash. They called me about an hour ago. Baby, I was so worried,” Simon said, kissing the back of his hand again, clenching his eyes shut against the tears threatening to spill over again.

Bram squeezed his hand once more, exhaling slowly. “Oh, Si, I’m so sorry, I never meant to cause you any worries.” Slowly, he lifted their entwined hands and pressed a kiss to Simon’s hand as well. Feeling Bram’s soft lips to his skin was like a shot of pure happiness for Simon. His shoulders relaxed (he hadn’t even realized he’d been so tense), the knot in his stomach unravelled, and his heart stopped racing.

He stood up quickly, and sat down on the edge of the bed, lifting his hand to brush Bram’s hair from his forehead. God, he loved this boy so much. He smiled, and Bram’s face split in an equally bright smile. Simon leaned down, his lips meeting Bram’s in a careful but nonetheless passionate kiss. His fingers kept stroking Bram’s hair. “How you feeling?” he asked softly. He didn’t straighten up, but just pulled back far enough so they could look at each other.

Bram laughed, and immediately winced. Bram’s eyes widened, startled, already looking for the alarm button. Bram’s hand shot out to grab Simon’s, bringing it back to rest on the covers. “Like I’ve been run over by a truck.” Bram’s heart clenched for him, he wished could take the pain away. Bram Greenfeld was the purest human being on earth, and did not deserve this pain. He himself would happily take the pain if it meant Bram would be okay again.

“I brought people,” Simon said, with half a smile, and straightened up to look at Leah, Nick and Abby, who were still standing by the door, looking uncertain whether or not they could intrude on what was obviously a very intimate moment.

Bram’s face split in a huge grin. “Hey, guys!”

The three of them took that as a sign they were welcome to enter the room further. “Hey, Bram, how are you?” Leah said, as she came to stand besides Simon, who was still sitting on the edge of the bed holding Bram’s hand. He was determined not to leave this spot until Bram was discharged.

“Do you remember what happened at all?” Abby asked, as she and Nick went to stand on the other side of the bed. Bram and Nick even did the lame cool-guy handshake. Simon’s heart lightened even further. Bram seemed more fine than his exterior suggested.

Bram’s smile faded a little, and he looked at the ceiling, a look of concentration on his face. “It’s all a little hazy, to be honest. I was driving back from my dad’s, because he told me to get back before the storm. I remember realizing I should’ve just continued on, and stayed with him until the storm passed, but I selfishly wanted to be back here so I could spend our free days with Simon.” Bram blushed deeply as he looked at Simon with a small smile. Simon pressed another kiss to Bram’s hand. “Then – it was snowing so much I could hardly see. I thought I was almost near the Waffle House, so I thought maybe I could stay there till this all died down a bit. Maybe call Simon. And then...I don’t know what happened. I think I slipped on some frozen snow, shot into the wrong lane and got hit by another car. Oh God,” His eyes widened, “What happened to them?” he asked, his voice suddenly pained, his face full of distress.

Simon put a hand on Bram’s shoulder to stop him from trying to get up. “I don’t know. We can ask a nurse when they come to check on you.” Bram lay back in his pillows, looking supremely unhappy. His free hand grabbed the hand on his shoulder, and he held on tight. His eyes were suddenly full of tears.

“I never should’ve gone back. I was stupid and selfish, but I just wanted to spend time with you and...I’m so sorry,” he said, his voice breaking on the last words.

Simon shook his head, squeezing Bram’s hands softly. “Shhh, shhh, it’s okay,” he said softly. His own eyes burned with fresh tears. He blinked them away furiously. “It’s okay, baby, we’ll fix it.” Bram was full-on crying now, his eyes clenched shut and sobs shaking his whole body. Leah and Abby each had a hand on an arm, rubbing soothingly. “Please, Bram,” Simon whispered, leaning forward and pressing his forehead to Bram’s, “Please, don’t cry. What can I do? Please, tell me what can I do? Let me help you. Please.”

Bram pulled one hand free to put on the back of Simon’s head, and the two of them breathed each other in for a while. Bram seemed to calm down a little, his body still shaking, but his sobs coming less frequent. “I love you,” Bram whispered, opening his eyes to look at Simon, “I can’t bear the thought I might’ve never seen you again.”

Simon’s stomach clenched painfully. “I’m here, you’re here,” he whispered, pressing a firm kiss to Bram’s forehead, “We’ll be fine.”

“You guys are disgustingly cute,” Abby said, which broke the emotionally charged atmosphere and caused everyone to laugh, even Bram, though he paid for his beautiful laugh with a stab of pain, causing him to wince. “Oh my God, I’m sorry, Bram!”

“That’s fine, it was worth it.” He took Abby’s hand in his and squeezed it tightly. The other hand was still firmly in Simon’s hand; it seemed unlikely they would ever let go.

The door behind them opened, and a nurse entered the room, directly followed by Mr Eisner, Bram’s mom, and finally Simon’s parents and Nora.

“Bram!” exclaimed his mother, and she ran to his side.

Reluctantly, Bram and Simon let each other go in favour of his mom getting to fuss over him for a while, so Simon turned his attention instead to his family, who had rushed over her at a moment’s notice. He loved them so much. Nora was the first to reach him, flinging her arms around his neck. “Is he okay?” she asked softly. Simon nodded against her shoulder, so grateful to have her with him in one piece. Before the emotion of Bram’s accident had overwhelmed him, he had been so worried about her, and the rest of his family. “Are you?” Nora continued shrewdly, and Simon laughed, more tears threatening to fall.

“Yeah, sis, I’ll be fine. Just...really rattled.”

“We all are,” his mom said, replacing Nora and holding Simon very tightly for a moment. “What happened?”

Simon told the story Bram had shared quickly. His parents kept shooting glances at Bram, who was still in discussion with his mother, who seemed to be upset that she hadn’t been called first.

Come to think of it, it was pretty weird that the hospital hadn’t called her. That he had been Bram’s emergency contact. What had Bram been thinking?

They seemed to resolve their issues fast, however, and his mom made some room for the Spiers to check on Bram. “Hey, Bram!” Nora said, jumping on the edge of the bed to give Bram a hug. Nora and Bram had hit it off instantly, and whenever Bram hung out with the family, he and Nora were an unstoppable force of teasing and Charades. It warmed Simon’s entire being just seeing how well Bram got along with his family.

“Hey, pipsqueek!” Bram said, ruffling her hair, causing her to grumble. “Thank you for coming, Mr and Mrs Spier,” he continued to Simon’s parents, who smiled as they gave him quick hugs.

“Of course, Bram! How are you feeling?”

“Better every minute,” Bram said. His eyes locked with Simon, and Simon’s stomach did a summersault. With his family now at the scene, and Bram looking relatively better, he could feel the tension breaking. Bram didn’t look like he was about to die at any second, and was already shooting Simon glances that would need some explaining when they were alone.

The hubbub died down, and the nurse stepped forward to check up on Bram. “What happened to the other people? Are they okay?” Bram asked him, voice anxious. Simon immediately flitted to his side, taking his hand. He squeezed it for good measure, sending a clear message; he was here for Bram. Whatever happened next.

“They were lucky,” the nurse said kindly. “They hit you full frontal, and they had airbags. They are a little rattled and will have some bruises here and there, but other than that, they’re fine.”

Bram relaxed visibly. He let out a shaky breath, and looked up at Simon with bright eyes. Simon pressed a kiss to his forehead. “Told you,” he said softly. Bram squeezed his hand in reply.

“They’re mostly worried about you. They saw you slip, and know you did everything you could to get out of their lane.” The nurse shone a light in Bram’s eyes, and seemed pleased with the results. Bram smiled in relief, a lone tear leaking from his eye, which looked pretty dramatic. Simon loved him so much.

“So what is, like, physically wrong with Bram?” asked his mother, beating Simon to the punch.

“Sprained wrists, bruised ribs, and broken leg. A clean break, nothing too difficult to hea.. Some cuts and bruises here and there. You got pretty damn lucky, kid.” The nurse put a hand on his shoulder and squeezed good-naturedly.

“Thank you,” Bram said earnestly.

“Mrs Greenfeld, we need to go over some details, do you feel up to stepping outside for a moment?”

Bram’s mom nodded, forgetting to correct the nurse on her name, pressed a kiss to her son’s temple, and turned to Simon. “Thank you, Simon. For being there for my boy. I know it can’t have been easy, being the first to see him like this. I’m just so grateful for you.” Then she did something she had never done before; she wrapped him in a hug. Surprised, Simon put his arms around her as well. He had never gotten the impression Bram’s mom was that fond of him; they certainly had never gone much further than the cursory ‘hello’ and ‘goodbye’. When she left the room, Simon looked back at Bram, who was staring after his mom with raised eyebrows.

“Wow,” Simon said.

“Yeah.” Bram laughed. “That’s a damn breakthrough.”

Simon laughed as well, and retook his place at Bram’s side, while Leah, Nick, Abby, Mr Eisner, Simon’s parents and Nora flocked closer around Bram’s bed. They spent a few minutes talking and laughing with each other, and while Bram was engaged in every part of it, Simon could see him becoming tired of so much activity.

Luckily, the nurse and his mother returned soon after, and the nurse announced that visiting hours were over, and everyone needed to go. Bram looked distraught. “Wait,” he said, grabbing Simon’s hand tightly, “can Simon stay?” The nurse looked doubtful for a moment, and Bram continued. “I really don’t feel like being alone right now. Please.”

The nurse glanced at Bram’s mother. “Really, it’s usually only family who gets that privilege...”

But Bram’s mother smiled. “That’s quite alright.” She moved to the bed and kissed her son on the top of his head. “I’ll go home, and come back tomorrow with some of your stuff, Bram. What do you think of that?”

“Thanks, mom,” Bram smiled. He looked back over to the nurse. “Can Simon stay in her place?”

“And besides,” Bram’s mom continued, with a smile, “I’m too old to spend the night in that chair.” She nodded over to the single chair in the room. “I think Simon is still young enough to be able to pull that off.”

Everyone laughed, even the nurse, and in the end, he agreed, after getting a written permission from Bram’s mother (ugh, beaurocracy). After that, everyone said goodbye to Bram and Simon. Simon’s parents promised to pick him up some clean clothes and other stuff he would need tomorrow, and with a final hug and wave goodbye to Bram, they shut the door behind them, leaving Simon and Bram alone.

Simon looked down at Bram. He lifted a hand to rake his fingers gently through Bram’s hair. Bram closed his eyes and enjoyed the sensation for a long minute. “God, I’m tired,” Bram said, at last, and Simon nodded.

“Go to sleep, baby,” he said softly, “I’ll be here when you wake up.”

Bram’s eyes opened, his brown eyes locking with Simon’s. “I love you, you know.” He carefully rose a few inches off the bed and scooted over a bit, making room for Simon to properly sit and lie down as well.

“I know,” Simon said. He was pretty sure it wouldn’t be allowed, but nonetheless, he kicked off his shoes before swinging his legs onto the bed. The bed was softer than he’d expected it to be, and he scooted his body down until he was lying right next to Bram. Bram lifted his head and Simon snaked his arm underneath, creating a sort of pillow for Bram to put his head on. They stared at each other, one of their hands entwined, their fingers playing together between them. “I love you, too,” Simon whispered, as he kissed Bram’s forehead again. He felt Bram’s eyes fall shut, and soon enough, his breathing evened out. “Sleep,” Simon said softly, rubbing Bram’s hand with his thumb.

Simon stared at his boyfriend for a good long while after that, taking in every feature of his beautiful face. A few bruises were forming here and there, but other than those and the cuts, his face seemed pretty much unharmed. He wanted to kiss all of those cuts and bruises, wanted to kiss the pain away, and his heart clenched just thinking about the coming days, where Bram would have to stay in the hospital, driving him stir-crazy and possibly a little bitchy. Simon already felt for him, and it hadn’t even started yet.

Simon resolved to be there for Bram every step of the way. Anything and everything Bram wanted, Simon would make sure to (try and) get it. It was the least he could do to make up for the absolute honour of being his emergency contact person. Simon realized full well that if Bram hadn’t done that, Simon probably wouldn’t have found out about the accident until late next day. That probably would’ve killed him.

God, but Simon loved him. Possibly more than words could express. And he was going to make sure Bram knew that, for the rest of their relationship.

Simon felt the exhaustion of the rollercoaster day begin to set in, and slowly, his eyes closed. He drifted away into a dreamless sleep.

#spierfeld ff #spierfeld #love simon #bram greenfeld #simon spier #my fanfics #my spierfeld ff

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hydrospanners · 6 years

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filling the table They have a saying back on Corellia that the only way you can ever really know a man is by taking his credits. They also have a saying that you should never play cards with a Corellian because Corellians always cheat, but she's betting Doc never heard that one. SWTOR. F!Jedi Knight x Doc. 1800 words. AO3.

Filling the table: In some rare occasions, a round of pazaak could be won if a player could place 9 cards on the table without busting.

It’s well after lights out when Rea wanders into the mess, her fingers tapping out a nervous rhythm against her thighs. The base is like a graveyard at this hour, dark as a black hole and damn near as quiet. With the generators offline for the night, there’s no sound but the distant echo of blaster fire and the rumble of answering explosives. It’s fucking unsettling. She’s too used to the not-quite-quiet of ships and stations and cities. Too used to the hum and tick of machinery, to the murmur of distant voices, to the sounds of life.

This quiet makes her skin crawl. It’s got her itching to go somewhere, to do something, but there’s nowhere to go and nothing useful to do. Not at night. The Imps have eyes everywhere on this planet. Too much movement, the slightest pinprick of light… The last thing Rea needs is to draw an air raid down on the only people who can get her that stupid fucking prototype.

At this hour, after a day like this one, she’s expecting to find the mess empty. She figures the Resistance will be tucked away in their drab little cots, dreaming of better days. When she spots the figure settled at a table in the center of the room, she almost turns around and walks right back out--she’s not really in the mood for another lecture on duty and ethics and the moral bankruptcy of the Republic--but then she sees the outline of a familiar mustache in the dim glow of a datapad screen.

That changes things.

Rea finds herself smiling as she settles onto the bench across from the doctor, pushing away the empty packets of energy pudding he seems to be eating direct from the wrapper. She’s never minded much about the taste of her food, but even her stomach protests the thought of that. Poor bastard needs it, though. She hasn’t seen him since their meeting with Warren, but the dark circles under his eyes tell her he’s been keeping himself entertained. No shortage of work for a doctor in a combat zone.

At least one of them has something to do.

“Long night, Doc?”

“Is it night?” He asks, looking up from his datapad to toss her a tired smile. He starts to turn back to whatever he’s reading when he freezes, looking at her again like he’s just realized she’s there. His whole demeanour shifts to something more open and relaxed. “Time really flies when you’re having fun, Gorgeous, and we had a lot of fun today.”

“Don’t know a lot of people who think of ‘exit, pursued by colicoid’ as a good time.”

“Anything’s a good time when you’re in good company,” he says, waggling his eyebrows in a way that would be ridiculous on anyone else. Actually, it’s ridiculous on him too, but ridiculous works for Doc.

“Smooth,” Rea laughs, then gestures at the datapad in his hand. “Not interrupting, am I?”

Doc drops the datapad like a hot rock. “What could be more important than talking to a beautiful woman?”

So predictable. Rea tries not to smile too much as she whips out a deck of cards from her belt pouch and starts to shuffle. His eyes follow the movement of her finely-sculpted arms with open appreciation. “You ever play pazaak?” She asks.

“My gran used to make me play with her. Hosted a game twice a week. She liked to sneak brandy in her tea and make me listen to her friends go on about how great things were before the Mandalorian Wars. Which, coincidentally,” Doc draws his attention away from her exquisite musculature to give her a significant look, “is the last time anyone under eighty played pazaak.”

He’s been teasing her about her ‘advanced age’ ever since Kira mentioned, absolutely deliberately, that Rea’s a year older than him. The difference can’t be more than a few months, but that hasn’t stopped the torrent of old lady jokes she’s been taking from both of them all day.

She rolls her eyes, but doesn’t bother arguing. “You a betting man, Doc?”

“Only when I gamble,” he says. “You?”

"I'm Corellian," Rea grins. "What do you think?"

Four hands later, she’s fifty credits richer and Doc is rooting around in his pocket for something to scribble another IOU on. She knows he’ll never make good on it, but Rea’s happy to accept his empty promises if it keeps him playing the game. She’s overdue for a bit of fun.

Doc watches her curiously as she deals the fifth hand. “So where’d you learn to play? You can tell me they teach pazaak in Jedi school, but I’m not gonna believe you.”

Rea shoots him an amused look. “Jedi school?”

“Gotta learn Jedi stuff somewhere, don’t you?”

She almost wishes Rhese was here, if only to see the shade of violet he’d turn at hearing a decade’s worth of finely-honed skills reduced to ‘Jedi stuff’. “Afraid you’re asking the wrong Jedi. I never went to school.” Even if she had, she wouldn’t have lasted long. Rea’s always had a complicated relationship with structure. And rules.

“You never went to school?” He gives her a piercing look that quickly shifts from skeptical to horrified when she shakes her head. “ Any school? Not even before the Jedi?”

“Not all of us can be delicate Core flowers, Doc.”

Doc raises a brow. “Core flower, huh? You been checking up on me, Gorgeous?”

She can almost hear Ranna in the back of her mind, giving her that old familiar warning. Everyone will betray you if you give them the chance . She used to worry so much about Rea, about how freely she talked and how careless she was about who listened. She was always warning her to watch her back and keep her mouth shut. Always smiling that bittersweet smile, telling her ‘ you can’t trust anything in this life but family, Turhaya.’

She’d been wrong about that, of course. You can’t trust family either.

“I know money when I see it,” Rea tells him, which is true. She learned to read a mark before she learned to read her own name. She doesn’t mention she’s also had Teeseven mining the holonet for information about him since they got back to base. He hasn’t found much so far--a birth certificate, transcripts, a few publications in medical journals--and she can’t decide if that’s promising or alarming. People with posh backgrounds like Doc’s aren’t usually so mysterious.

He snorts. “Glamorous as it is, working for the Resistance doesn’t actually pay that well.”

She’d be surprised if it paid at all. “Lucky you’ve got that trust fund for hard times.”

His brow sails nearly up into his hairline. He seems more impressed than angry, which is encouraging for the plans Rea hadn’t realized she was forming until just now. “You really have been checking up on me.”

“Just a guess actually,” she grins, “but thanks for confirming. I’ll remember that when it’s time to call these in.” She gestures to the half-dozen IOUs in the pot.

“And what else have you ‘just guessed’ about me?”

“Well…” Rea folds her arms over her cards, leaning forward on her elbows. “Aside from how much you like to talk about yourself--”

“There’s a lot to say.”

“--you’re from the Core, but I’m guessing somewhere more focused on creds and culture than politics. Somewhere on the Perlemian, probably. How am I doing?”

“Ralltiir,” he confirms. “And I’m halfway to impressed. What else?”

“You’re good and you know it, so you’d only have gone to a good school. Coruscant probably, cause it’s the best of the best, and you took to medicine like light to a black hole. You had to be talented to finish school early even after blowing all that time in the underbelly of Galactic City. I’m guessing that’s where you got the notion to do this--” she gestures to the darkened Resistance base around them “--with all that fancy education of yours.”

The shrewd look he gives her tells her she hit the nail right on the head. She resists the urge to high five herself. “Are you fucking with me, Gorgeous? Or were all those banthashit stories about Jedi reading minds actually true?”

Rea laughs. “I’m no mind-reader, Doc. Not saying it can’t be done--Force shit’s weird--but it’s not my kinda Force shit. All I ever learned were the punching bits.”

Doc’s expression says he doesn’t quite believe her, but he doesn’t push. Rea starts to suspect he might actually be as smart as he thinks he is. “So if it’s not a Force trick, where’d you learn it?”

She shrugs. “Wasn’t always a Jedi.”

“Don’t they pluck you people straight from the cradle?”

“They made an exception for me. Not even the Jedi could resist all this.” Rea grins, gesturing to herself with a careless sweep of her hands as she leans back to give Doc a better view of everything the Jedi couldn’t resist. He accepts the invitation eagerly, eyes roving every inch of her he can see in the dark.

“Can’t say I blame ‘em, Beautiful.”

Rea smirks, pleased by the hungry way he’s looking at her. Every nerve ending in her body is sparking to life, tingling with anticipation. She hasn’t had a chance like this in weeks, and now that there’s a familiar, delicious heat starting to build inside her, Rea’s skin is practically itching with impatience. She’s never been shy about chasing what she wants, but she forgot how good it feels to have what she wants chasing her .

How many hours did you have to know someone before you could ask them to fuck you on a table?

She opens her mouth to ask Doc for his opinion, but two sharp beeps from her holocomm kill the words on her tongue. Warren’s ID flashes red across the screen.

The heat in her veins couldn’t have vanished faster if she was streaking through a blizzard on Hoth.

“You should get some rest,” Rea sighs, sweeping the pazaak cards into her palm in one smooth motion. “I’ve got a feeling I’ll be collecting on those IOUs sooner than later.” And not in the way I wanted , she thinks dismally.

But maybe there’ll be a chance for that later.

If she’s very lucky, and if she does her job very well, then maybe they’ll both make it out of this thing alive. Maybe Balmorra will be more-or-less in one piece. And maybe, just maybe, she’ll have time before the next crisis to show the doctor everything she had planned for that table.

#swtor #swtor fic #swtor doc #archiban kimble #jedi knight #nirea velaran #velaran legacy #my fic #my swtor fic #i started writing this in april of 2016 #so when i say i'm a slow writer #that's what i mean #anyway LOOK #it is DONE #almost unrecognizable to the original version #BUT DONE #[throws confetti]

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