#i really want to push myself next year so hopefully i can branch out | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

meetmymouth · 3 years

Note

ooh I think #7 and #17 from the blurb list would fit very well together! if you want!

THANK YOU LINDS <3<3

prompt list here, send a number!!

#7 If we both want to fit, we’ll have to cuddle

#17 Sleeping in the same bed for the first time

THIS IS 3K IM SORRY I COULDN'T HELP MYSELF SO PLEASE REBLOG LMAOOOOOO!!!!!

"This is my room," comes a gruff voice behind you as you keep looking out the window, taking in the greenery and the beautiful ocean.

See, you knew he would be here.

You knew, because Harry and Mitch were attached at the hip, and you didn't mind. You didn't mind seeing your ex every time you were invited to hang out with MitchandSarah & co, except when said ex decided to be an evil arsehole.

Perhaps, calling him an "ex" was weird, seeing how your time alone only consisted of you both getting high, mostly naked as he whispered the filthiest things in your ear and promised to make you feel good, be the best you've ever had. Other than that, though, he was an insufferable bastard. Since you never hung out with the man without your friends around–getting rat-arsed and high... and the activities that followed aside–, you didn't know if he was always this annoying.

He seemed to be getting along just fine with the others, especially Sarah and the other girls, so you had no problems scratching off the "women hater" off your list. And you can't ever recall him being this insufferable while you both were fucking which was, in his case, miserable. So, it was definitely annoying. You weren't that interested in him to think that he was being mean because he was secretly in love with you. That was a myth, a pathetic myth, wasn't it? No, you wouldn't steep that low. He was just an arse, full stop.

You turn around with an eye-roll, and within seeing his face, you nearly clench your fists like a ten-year-old. "Do you live here?" You ask, hoping the boring expression on your face is also detectable in your tone.

It's certainly not a surprise when Harry scoffs.

"I don't, but I picked this room first. Since, you know," he looks around, and walks further into the room, finally stopping at the feet of the bed. "You were late. As per."

"Oh fuck off. This isn't summer camp. Besides, I don't see any of your shit around. The room was empty when I arrived."

"If you bothered to look inside the wardrobe..."

Seriously, you find yourself thinking, how the fuck did you ever end up with this man. Naked.

There's a commotion downstairs, so you both turn to the door, but much to your dismay, there's no one coming to check up on you and hopefully, save you from Harry Styles' pathetic gob.

You turn towards the window again, eyes squinting briefly at the last bits of sunshine that's glinting from between the branches.

"Well. You shouldn't have left then. You weren't here when I arrived."

Harry shakes his head, and you swear you can see his nostrils flaring if you look carefully. Though, you just watch him with a smug smile on your face as he walks to the wardrobe and pulls open the white doors. True to his word, his clothes are there, perfectly folded, and for a moment you feel a pang of guilt before you look back up at his face and see the furrowed eyebrows.

"See. My clothes. I'm sure Sarah will sort it out for you, find you another room or summat."

"There's only three bedrooms. Can't sleep with a pregnant woman and her boyfriend, can I?"

"What about Rachel and David? Aren't you best friend's with her?"

"Harry, you're ridiculous. Just–" you wipe the sweat off of your forehead, feeling yourself grow hotter and hotter each passing minute. "–just sleep on the sofa. This is my first vacation this year. You go on holidays every week or so. Let us commoners have this."

"Oh, please. Didn't you have a girls weekend getaway or whatever the fuck in Soho Farmhouse two weeks ago?"

You can't help the scoff that leaves your mouth, and a raised eyebrow follows. "How do you know about that?"

"Because," he rolls his eyes, and slams the wardrobe shut. "You post seven hundred stories every day."

"You're a stalker."

"You sleep on the sofa."

You smirk, noticing how he avoided your previous statement.

To be fair, you hated posting on your story. Though, knowing Harry followed you on Instagram made posting on there fun, and seeing his username on the list of who watched your stories pop up at the very top every single time whenever you posted a story almost made you let out a mingy little laugh and rub your hands together, and scream "gotcha!".

"I won't."

"You're getting on my nerves."

"What a coincidence," you ignore the stare he's sending your way and walk towards your carry on, and start taking the contents out one by one, laying everything on the bed.

He watches with a scowl on his face, arms crossed across his chest, and a satisfied smile paints your features as you take out the toiletries bag next.

"Are you seriously unpacking right now?" Harry cranes his neck so he can see better. He looks ridiculous, standing in the middle of the room with arms crossed, but you refrain from saying anything.

In fact, you don't even answer him. Perhaps, you find yourself thinking, it was silly to unpack your underwear first. It wasn't as if you brought super "sexy" shit or lace everything. You can definitely feel his gaze watching your every movement as you take everything out carefully and place them on top of each other. With most of your underwear in hand, you get on one knee in front of the bedside table and open the drawer, placing everything inside and it's surprising how he hasn't claimed the bedside table yet.

"Look," he sighs. "I'll talk to Sarah, maybe you can sleep with her and Mitch–"

"–don't be stupid we're not making them sleep with other people because you can't be a gentleman and sleep on the sofa."

"Oh for fuck's sake," he growls, and you finally look at him, eyebrows raised in hopes of making him feel as stupid as he sounds right now. Unfortunately, though, he continues, "Okay, damn it, I'll sleep on the floor."

Fool.

"Common sense, Harry. Always pick sofa. No matter what."

"Were you born to make my life a living hell?"

"Look," you sit on the bed, and look around. "This is boring me to death. I'm sleeping on the bed. If you shut your gob, you can sleep with me on the bed."

Harry lets out an obnoxious laugh. "Just admit I was here first and you didn't bother checking the–"

"Yes, I didn't and what about it? I'm here now, aren't I? I'm on the bed, babes. Anyway," you get on your feet, and with one last look at him, you start walking towards the door. "I'll see you in a bit. I guess."

You both manage to avoid each other as much as you can throughout the day, and really, it wasn't that hard considering the good company of your friends, good food and good alcohol. You mainly helped Sarah and Rachel in the kitchen as the men lounged on the sun loungers, Mitch handling the grill and David helping you guys with the drinks that came in and out of the house pretty quickly with the way you lot consumed them like water.

You spend the night eating, laughing and drinking, sometimes singing along to whatever song played on David's fancy Bluetooth speaker, and everyone begins ushering inside with full bellies and most of them–except the very pregnant Sarah–with a tipsy smile on their faces.

You leave before Harry though, leaving him smoking his last cigarette by the pool while you run up the stairs and into the room, closing the door behind you. You quickly get rid of the romper and get your favourite pyjamas on, eyes searching for the orange makeup bag so you can take off the remaining makeup before bed. You knew it was silly not to do your night routine, but you still zip the bag closed with a sad expression on your face, not wanting to see your toner and night cream any more than you needed to as you throw it on the floor next to your bags. It's pathetic really, how determined you are to get in the bed before Harry can that you forego your whole routine and stick to some cotton pads. Though, plugging your charger and getting between the cool sheets make you forget all about it as you let out a sigh, and unlock your phone to do your nightly scroll before falling asleep.

As you double tap on a selfie, the door opens, and you hear him scoff, again. You keep scrolling though, and try to sneak a few glances at him as he makes a beeline for the wardrobe, and to your surprise, begins to undress. You try to stay calm, and not to think about how domestic this whole thing seems; being in the same room as him as he gets ready for bed.

Right, getting ready for bed.

You keep your eyes on your phone as his clothes hit the floor one by one, and when you look up briefly, he's got a pair of joggers on, and he's throwing the clothes he had on in the wardrobe.

He turns around, and find your gaze, and he rolls his eyes.

"I knew you'd be in bed, here, as soon as I heard someone running. Forgot you were a literal five-year-old," he mutters under his breath, loud enough so you can still hear him. "I'm not sleeping on the sofa."

"I love how you're basically arguing with yourself."

"Like I said, I'm not sleeping on the sofa. I didn't come all the way to sleep on a bloody sofa."

"Suit yourself. I guess we're sharing. Unless," you lock your phone, and place it on the bedside table. "You want to share," you shrug, adjusting your pillow and sigh at the cool fabric against your hot cheeks.

You can feel him thinking, the wheels turning in his head, and you finally hear the floorboards creek underneath his feet as he walks closer to the bed, and pushes the sheets off of you. The whole thing.

You blink in surprise. "Stop it, dude! What the fuck."

"I'm getting in! Fuck's sake, be quiet."

"You did that just to annoy me."

You're both quiet for a minute, Harry taking his rings off and then comes his socks, and he finally copies you, laying on his back on the bed. He covers the both of you, though you know it's not intentional since he couldn't do it without covering his own body with the duvet, and then he lets out a strangled sigh.

"The bed's too small."

"Are you calling me fat?"

"What?" He turns his face to you, and perhaps it's the first time he's looking at you– really looking.

His brows are furrowed, and lips turned downwards in a pout.

"I'm taking the piss, Harry. I know you're not calling me fat."

"Good," he says, though his voice isn't exactly soft. "I wouldn't."

"Good."

Silence.

It's unbearable.

Despite the hot weather, you feel yourself shiver, and you wish you were the only one in bed so you could do the whole burrito technique with the duvet. Alas... you stay where you are. You both do.

A dog barks in the distance, the high-pitched bark coming through the open window, and you can feel Harry breathing too fast beside you. You want to shout at him, tell him to fuck off and... not breathe too fast, though it sounds a bit too rude even for you, so you stay silent and wait for the dog to pipe the fuck down.

You try to turn on your side, because you could never see yourself fall asleep laying on your back like a vampire, but you almost fall, not anticipating the tiny space you've got going on. It's bad, and you know you're not going to get a good sleep. So, you find yourself contemplating about getting up and sleeping on the sofa because honestly, fuck him.

Harry shuffles next to you, presumably trying to find a good position to sleep in himself, but he lets out a groan and it startles you.

"What's wrong with you!"

"The bed's too fucking small."

"We've established that."

He sniffs, hands clenching the sheets around his body. "I don't sleep on my back. My back hurts."

You don't say anything, hoping for him to just get up and leave, go sleep on the sofa. He doesn't, though. It's another fifteen minutes before you let out another sigh, trying to get comfortable on the bed, and Harry copies you. You both turn on your sides, facing each other and Harry groans when your knee makes contact with his thigh, making you cringe in embarrassment. A quiet sorry leaves your mouth and he shakes his head, then turns the other way, facing the door.

"Fuck," he spits after a minute. "If we both want to fit, we'll have to cuddle."

"Cuddle? Fuck no."

"Just," he turns to you again, but the bed is too small for you both so his knees touch yours. "Just come closer. Either that, or go sleep on the sofa."

"Why don't you–"

"You're so stubborn! Come closer, I won't eat you or fall in love with you. Fuck."

You groan, but oblige for some reason, feeling your heart beginning to beat faster for some ridiculous reason.

It's been a long time, you find yourself trying to convince your heart. It's been a long, long time since you've been this close to a human being. Too long since you've cuddled with someone, so obviously you were going to feel a little excited, and weird. Yes, definitely weird.

You get closer and he lifts up his arm, you both sharing a look before you roll your eyes and place your hand on his wrist, placing it on your hip. He's quiet, eyes searching yours, and the crease between his brows are gone, and you want to laugh, because who knew it only took your skin against his to wipe that stupid grimace off of his face.

"I still think you're annoying," Harry mumbles, clearly sleepy. His hold on your hip becomes tighter as his thumb strokes your skin over the fabric.

"I know. Just shut up and sleep."

#harry styles imagine #harry styles x reader #harry styles #harry styles blurb #harry styles smut #harry styles writing #harry styles concept #concepts #harry styles x y/n #harry styles fanfiction #babyurthendofjune #ask

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mellow-em · 3 years

Text

Bittersweet Temptations

CHAPTER 3

[special dts: @bluewingedangel @siennamariia <3]

Your neighbors, Nathan and Elena, have been friends with your parents for years. Whether it’d be family gatherings or vacations, they were around; they were family. But when you return home from your final years of college, what will happen when you find that it isn't just them living in the house next door anymore?

_____________________________________

I wanted to say something.

I knew based on the long expressions plastered across their faces, that they were waiting impatiently for me to say something too.

But I physically couldn’t.

A knot cemented itself at the back of my throat, suffocating me as I tried to swallow. I could feel my mouth suffer through a drought as I did so.

All I could do was look at the three of them, internally wallowing in embarrassment with a load of questions making my head spin.

How could Nate and Elena keep something like that from me? What were they thinking? No. What was I thinking?

Suddenly, the voices of people scattered amongst the yard became too loud. Though, the stares directed towards me were louder.

“Y/n can you say something?”

Without even thinking, I felt my body turn away from them, and I carried myself away.

“Y/n?” I could hear Elena calling after me.

“I’ll just be a minute” I finally croaked back to her, relieved that I could finally get a word out.

I rushed past the deck towards the side of the house.

I knew in the back of my mind that I was being ridiculous. It wasn’t something to run away from; knowing they probably felt just as awkward telling me.

But I had to get away from Sam.

I couldn’t bear standing there while his smug grin could be seen in the corner of my eye.

It was driving me crazy.

Why does he insist on making this hard on me?

I continued to let my feet travel, not even worried about where I would end up. It felt good to step away from the chaos that my parents organized, for a while anyway.

But I soon found myself at the dead end of the street, in front of the wooded patches that lined the edges of the pavement; sectioning off the neighborhood from the forest.

Without any hesitation, I stepped past the barricading trees, and onto the trail that led to a place of sanctuary.

A small body of water sat on the indented ground, with blooming ferns and bushes fencing it. Farther away from the pond, large rocks collected together, forming makeshift seats to take in the atmosphere.

It looked like it belonged in a cheesy disney movie, or a landscape renaissance painting.

I found this place with Nate when I was little, and since then I would escape here when things become too much to handle.

I sat myself down on one of the largest slabs of rock, almost seeing the memories with Nate passing around me in the form of faded visuals; they were almost ghost-like.

I took myself into these moments one by one; succumbing to the laughter, the playfulness, the smiles, the thrill.

Even though I love my parents more than anything, the bundles of memories Nate and I shared, showed me a glimpse of adventure that my parents couldn’t give me.

The overwhelming feeling of contentment pushed a smile onto my face.

But in an instant, it all faded.

Sam.

That one moment with him feasted on my conscious mind like a ravenous vulture. It made my stomach churn in the worst possible way.

I sunk my head into my hands, huffing in frustration.

That is, until I heard a few raucous cracks of leaves and sticks not too far from me.

I fix my posture while whipping my head towards the direction of the noise, only to be met with guilty eyes.

Nathan stood there, leaning his upper body on the stiff trunk of a tree.

Perfect timing, Nate..

My lips flatlined as I scratched at the corner of my forehead, “Hey.”

He steps closer, leisurely but surely.

“Hey,” he gestures to the vacant space next to me, “can I?”

“Yeah.”

Placing both of his hands on his thighs, he plops down next to me, slightly grunting. We sat there in silence; but it wasn’t peaceful, it was impatient.

The both of us were longing to say something to one another, but neither of us preferred confrontation in the slightest. So we sat there, staring at the grove.

“It’s been a while since we’ve been here.”

I look over to him, noticing the tinge of nostalgia sketched upon his features.

“uh yeah.. yeah it really has,” I release a breath, reverting my eyes back to the pond, “almost 5 years.”

It was two days before I left for college. Screaming echoed throughout the house, and reverberated through my head, overwhelming my senses.

My parents chalked it up to being stressed over ‘my big move,’ which I can believe. But the words said that day pushed its way through me. I finally had enough of the nonsense and hollered back at them.

Big mistake. ‘you’re an absolute failure’ They said, ‘you’re never gonna go far.’

Long story short, I ran out of the house, and into the forest. I sat on this same rock, with tears planting glistening streams down my face.

Nate apparently heard the commotion, which wasn’t too surprising, and he made his way to me.

He didn’t even say a word before wrapping his arms around me; embracing me with a comforting warmth that slowly eased me back to normal.

‘Sic Parvis Magna,’ He said.

I was more than confused with those few words, until he began to speak once more.

‘Greatness from small beginnings. Now this isn’t exactly small, you know, with you leaving me here to go to college and all. But it is a new beginning- your new beginning. Don’t let anyone stop you from moving forward.’

That was the last day I saw this beautiful spot of ours, and the last time I really had a solid conversation with Nate; it made the final memory bittersweet at best.

“It really hasn’t changed a bit though.”

“Probably because change is dining elsewhere,”I tried to whisper under my breath, but unfortunately, he heard me loud and clear.

I look up at him in the corner of my eye, noticing his presence fall into a sea of guilt again.

He runs his hand through his surprisingly neatened hair, letting out a sigh that releases all of his proper posture.

“Look, y/n, I wanted to tell you. I really did. But it’s just-”

“Nate all I gotta ask is why? Why would you keep something that major from me?”

I had my body fully turned to face him now, while he still remained there; slouched with his head bowed to his fidgety hands.

I could tell he was stalling, swallowing his responses with force.

“Nate. Just tell me. Please.”

His eyes closed as he exhaled, “It’s a very long story.”

“I’ve got plenty of time.”

“Not exactly.” Roars of laughter within the distance cause both of us to look at the trail leading out of the woods, “we’ve still got a party going on, which happens to be for you, if I may add-”

“Seriously Nate, you think I care?” I was growing fretful, mentally pleading for him to just give up on excuses.

His hands raised in defense, “Fine, fine, okay..”

———

It didn’t even occur to us how long we’d been out here until the streams of sunlight disappeared from the ruptures in between the trees. The day was just replaced with the beginning of nightfall.

“So you’re telling me that Sam, your brother...who was presumed dead for 15 years, dragged you out across the globe to find Henry Avery’s treasure in 3 months because a drug lord was gonna kill him if you didn’t?”

Nate stifled a low chuckle, nodding along.

“So I take it you found it and gave the son of a bitch his cut? Well, since he’s alive and all-”

“Hey, language missy.” He attempted a scolding tone, but I could see through his thin facade.

I rolled my eyes, shoving him playfully,“Haha very funny. Now answer the question mister.”

“Well, it turns out the son of a bitch was Sam. He uh- lied about the whole thing.”

My eyes widened, “Wait what? So the drug lord- the sole purpose of the treasure hunt..”

“Yep it was all bullshit.”

I averted my wide-eyed gaze from him to the pond that was now lit with the blaring lights of fireflies,“Wow. I’m surprised no one got the chance to kick him in the face.. or balls.”

“Yeah Rafe- he pretty much took care of that one..”

The both of us laughed, causing a few birds to flutter away from the branches closest to us.

I missed this.

“Figured I’d find you two here.”

As our fit died down, we glanced over to a beaming Elena emerging from the trail with her arms crossed over her chest.

“I told your parents that you were comin’ over with us. I assumed you wanted some space from all the chaos.”

I showed my relief in the form of a warm simper, up until the realization punched me in the face.

Sam is gonna be there.

My body tensed, becoming a stiff statue in place. The lack of saliva in my mouth was back, and I felt my breath hitch silently.

I guessed the two of them noticed my change in demeanor.

“Are you okay y/n? You don’t have to if you don’t want to,” Elena’s tone was gentle, as her grin faltered slightly.

“No no it’s fine it’s just- it’s nothing don’t worry,”I abruptly stood up, scratching at my forehead again, “lets go, back.”

“You sure?,” I felt Nate’s arm fall over my shoulders, giving me a faint squeeze as the three of us trudged down the path.

I needed to take my mind off of Sam, hopefully I can avoid him.

“Yeah..” my voice trailed off, “as long as I get to play a certain game that I happened to have the highest score of.” walking confidently with my head held high, I could still see Nate rolling his eyes.

“Actually, Elena has since claimed that title for herself.” Nate said frankly.

A dramatic gasp escapes my lips,“Elena, are you kidding me!”

“Hey, don’t get mad at the pregnant lady here,” she looks back at Nate and I as we continue to walk down the trail, “how about this: you two compete to try and beat my high score.”

Nate looks down at me with the same contemplative look I give him.

“And what’s the catch, hun?” Nate asks.

“Loser gets pushed or thrown into the pool.”

Well well well, Elena’s finally getting in on our shenanigans.

I smirked, “This is gonna be light work.”

“Oh really now? I just know you’re secretly afraid that I’m gonna win.”

“Sure, Nate. I’m not gonna lose, you’re all bark and no bite.”

It was his turn to let out a theatrical breath,“How dare you accuse me of such a thing?”

While Nate and I went on with our child like banter, Elena laughed hysterically at our foolishness,“You two are absolutely ridiculous.”

Nate glances back at me, only this time his fist patiently waited in front of me for a fist bump, “you ready to get destroyed?”

I scoff, hitting my fist on his, “You’re on.”

#sam drake x reader #samuel drake x reader #uncharted fanfiction #sam drake #uncharted #uncharted 4 #samuel drake #nathan drake #naughty dog #elena fisher #sam drake fanfiction

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winchesterbrotherstan · 3 years

Text

Altered Carbon- Out of the Past (1.01)

Pairing: Nova Griffiths (OC) x Takeshi Kovacs

Summary: When Nova is contracted for a new job, she's introduced to a part of humanity's past. The job seems to be a bust, but it becomes clear that it's anything but.

Warnings: mentions of suicide!, cursing, guns, rebirthing(?), sword+knives, blood, mentions of shitty parents

Word Count: 6441

“Just…” I sighed, looking out through the droplets of rain on the windows of the bus stop, “I just want you to be safe, E.J.”

“I know. I will be, Nov. I promise.”

“Alright, good. Look, bug, I’ve gotta run.”

“New job?”

I snorted, looking at his grin on the holographic screen. “Possible new target, yeah.”

He nodded. “Promise you’ll be safe too?”

I nodded right back, a smile on my face. “Promise, E.J. Love you, bud. Talk to you later, yeah?”

Another nod. “Go.”

I sighed as I checked the time.

Shit.

I was going to be late if I didn’t haul ass. I flicked the display of the watch away and pulled my helmet on. I straddled my bike and kicked the stand up. Hopefully, this payout would be worth it.

***

“Justice! Let the dead speak! Justice! Let the dead speak!”

The chant became static as I pushed my way through the crowd, and up the steps of Alcatraz prison. Lieutenant Ortega from the local police department had reached out and told me she would give me a ride up to the Bancroft residence.

“Griffiths!”

I popped onto my toes and saw the lieutenant waving me down. A blond man stood next to her, his face angry, but eyes seeming disoriented.

“Ortega, hey.” I held a hand out for her and she gave me a firm shake. “I’ve been trying to find you for the last twenty minutes.”

“These people are something else. Nova Griffiths, you’ll be working with this gentleman here.”

“Nice to meet you.” I stuck my hand out, and he did the same.

“You shouldn’t have come back!” A man shouted over my shoulder, cutting my new partner off before he could start his sentence.

The crowd’s chant changed, “No resleeving!”

“Well shit, let’s get outta here.” I gave Ortega a grimace, letting his hand drop.

We began to push our way back through, dodging the picket signs and the face painted protestors. A man with white and black markings on his face took a step towards us and pushed me out of the way. I stumbled backwards, and my partner reached out, preventing me from falling off my feet.

“You will not be forgiven!” The protester spat in his face.

I used the existing grip on my arm to pull myself back in front of him. I spat in the protester’s face and shook my partner’s grip loose.

“Well, that’s gonna keep him busy a while.” My partner guided me to walk in front of him as we continued to push through the crowd.

***

“Spirit savers and Afterlifers. 653 failed, and still they can’t stop yelling.” Ortega spoke.

“What is 653?” He asked, looking up from the paper.

“Something about spinning up murder victims to testify who killed them.” I kept my eyes on my feet, feeling nauseous.

“Why wouldn’t you spin them up if they’re witnesses to their own murder?”

“Archdiocese says you only get the sleeve you’re born with. Once it dies, they spin you back up for anything, even to identify your killer, your soul goes to hell.” Ortega looked in the rearview mirror. “What do you think?”

“I think no one in the archdiocese has ever been murdered.” He looked out the window, and then to me. “Nova?”

I snorted, finally looking up. “I think they’re all full of shit.”

He fell quiet as he observed the city. I studied his silhouette as he stared. The sleeve was handsome. Strong features, a strong jawline, a deep voice. Light colored eyes and swept-over hair.

“So what were you in for?” I asked, trying to get a sense of why he was so silent.

“Ah, little bit of this, little bit of that. Blew some shit up and killed some people.” He caught a look from Ortega in the rearview. “Some people just need killing.” He grinned.

I felt a grin rise on my own face, but Ortega didn’t seem to share the amusement.

“And how do you decide who deserves to die?”

My partner shook his head with a small sigh. “Depends on the day. I mean, anything can set me off. Interstellar dictatorship, genocide, people who talk to much.” He looked over at her for the last part before letting out another sigh.

I giggled, and Ortega shot me a look.

“Right now I’m feeling pretty hostile towards Laurens Bancroft, whoever the fuck he is.” He pulled something from his pants pocket.

“Oh, come on. Everyone knows Bancroft, he’s one of the first founding Meths.”

“What’s a Meth?”

“You don’t know what a Meth is? How can you not know?” Ortega chuckled. “You're dressed like one.”

“Like I said, I’m not from around here.” His demeanor changed.

I eyed him. He was fidgeting with his hands. Ortega went on, reciting something from the beliefs of the Meths. I decided to unbuckle myself and slide into the middle seat. He took notice and looked down at me, eyebrows furrowed.

“How long have you been under?”

He looked away, sighing again.

“How long, man?” I whispered again.

“Two hundred fifty years.” He didn’t look my way again.

“Shit.”

We busted through the clouds, and I slid forward, still unbuckled. He caught me by the hood of my jacket before grabbing my upper arm, pulling me back into my seat. I swallowed my pride and buckled back up.

“They call it the Aerium.”

He leaned forward, eyes wide.

“Guess they don’t have this where you come from either, huh?” Ortega gave a teasing smile.

She guided the car to hover over the property as we sat in silence. He readjusted himself back in his seat, and Ortega seized the silence once more.

“So, where were you born? Home planet, that kinda thing.”

“Not here.” He was dead-pan.

“That’s a little vague.” Ortega chuckled.

“You ask a lot of questions.”

“That’s my abuela. She always said, Kristin, you can find a way to talk to anybody.”

“Especially when they’re trapped in a car with you.” He shot back.

She looked forward with a sigh, and I stifled another giggle.

“Our quick and messy little lives are so small to them. They build their homes up here so the clutter of our existence is out of their sight.”

We only shared a look in the backseat.

***

The landing of the hover-car was rough, accompanied by various quick remarks.

“Come on, last chance. Just give me a name.”

“Takeshi Kovacs.” He got out of the car and straightened out his clothes. “Look me up.”

Ortega immediately did so while I scrambled out of the car after him.

“Holy shit. Is that why…”

Kovacs glanced at me over his shoulder. “Yep.”

“You can’t be who you say you are. All the Envoys died.” Ortega tried to catch up with us as she shouted.

“All except one.” Kovacs caught me by the arm, pulling me to stand behind him.

I peered around his frame, only to see Bancroft’s multiple goons with their guns pointed toward us.

“Not another step, Ortega.”

“Aw come on. I’m Bay City PD and you know it, Curtis.” Ortega continued to walk toward them. “So lower your weapons and tell me where your boss is, because I really would like a fucking word.”

“Lieutenant Ortega, you’re trespassing on private property. Apparently, you’ve stolen one of our limos as well. I could have you shot.”

Ortega snorted. “Yeah, go ahead. Try.”

A police vehicle landed to our left, and Kovacs covered me a bit more with his own body.

“Why did you drive the Envoy? Isaac was supposed to do that.”

The police car door opened, and a man in a suit dragged a boy out.

“Look, I’m not drunk, okay? I was just loosening up a little. Let go of me.”

“We picked him up on a DUI.” The man explained to Mrs. Bancroft.

“Which is how we came into possession of your vehicle.” Ortega explained.

Mrs. Bancroft whispered something back and forth to, presumably, her son. She turned back to face us. “This is police harassment.”

“Yeah.” Ortega scoffed again. “There’s your kid, there’s your car, here’s your mercenary, and there’s your… new pet terrorist.” She gestured towards Kovacs, annoyed. “You’re welcome.”

“Bounty hunter, not a mercenary.” I scowled.

She walked past us, and Kovacs scoffed this time. “The terrorist can hear you. I’m standing right here.”

“Yeah, good. Cause we’re not done, you and me.” Ortega snapped at him before getting into the police car. I inched my way out from behind Kovacs until I was standing next to him.

Mrs. Bancroft chuckled as she walked toward us. “Forgive me. I’m Miriam Bancroft. We’ve not been properly introduced.”

She gave Kovacs a weak handshake, followed by a snake-like smile my way.

“Welcome to Suntouch House.” She turned on her heel, and we followed.

***

“Shouldn’t that be in a museum?” Kovacs asked as we walked under the branches of a large tree.”

“I have a weakness for Elder civilization artifacts. I collect them, among other things.”

“This must’ve cost a fortune to ship here.”

She hummed as Kovacs reached for one of the lower-hanging tendrils.

“A few lifetimes, as well. But cost was no object. This is the only Songspire tree on Earth. No one really knows what they are. They could’ve functioned as part of Elder civilization architecture. The largest ones ever recorded are thousands of meters high.”

The look on Kovacs’ face was one of recognition. “I know. I’ve seen them.”

“Stronghold. Of course.” She nodded. “Laurens is in his study. I’ll show you up.”

As if voice-activated, the elevator doors to her right slid open. Kovacs and I eyed each other before following her into the small room. Something felt off. We stayed silent as the elevator began to ascend. I kept myself tucked in between him and the corner, and Miriam stood opposite of him. She continued to eye him before beginning to play with her necklace. The metallic clicking caught his attention, and he looked up.

“Is it true you can look into a person’s eyes and know exactly what they’re thinking?”

Kovacs hummed. “No, Envoys don’t read minds.”

“What a pity.” She smiled.

Kovacs seemed uncomfortable, and the elevator dinged before anyone could say anything else.

“Good luck, Mr. Kovacs, Ms. Griffiths.”

Kovacs gestured for me to exit first, and he followed close behind. We let out simultaneous sighs as we heard the doors close again. We began to walk down the long hallway, trying to keep pace with each other. The study was silent when we walked into it, and I began to feel sick to my stomach.

“Mr. Kovacs, Ms Griffiths.”

We looked up to see Bancroft on the balcony of his study, drink in hand. “My apologies, my son failed to drive you here. You have to forgive my endlessly misplaced optimism.”

“That’s alright.” Kovacs looked back around the study. “The ride was very instructive.”

“Hmm, yes, I’m sure it was. Details are, after all, an Envoy’s stock-in-trade.” He began to walk down to the level we were on. “Or were, I guess I should say. Immersion and total absorb. Wasn’t that the term, hmm? Whatever answer you may seek, it is precisely where you are not looking.”

“You’ve read Falconer.” Kovacs finally spoke, eyes on me as I kept my own on him.

“I was alive during the uprising, yeah.”

“Yeah?” His eyes didn’t stray from mine. “So was I.”

“Oh, y-yes, my apologies. It’s all in the distant past for me, but for you, of course, it’s all rather different. There are very few of us now, who saw firsthand what the Envoys could do. Ah-ha. Yes. A-And I have to admit that I had a grudging admiration for you. Trained by Quell herself to be the most formidable fighting force that the galaxy had ever seen.”

“Well, that would sound better if we hadn’t lost.” Kovacs quipped.

“Although this might, might interest you.” Bancroft handed Kovacs a small leather-bound booklet. “Oh, it’s all corneal streaming now. There’s something about the simplicity of holding the written word in your hand. The very-very heft of it. As men have done for countless centuries before us.”

Kovacs seemed to leave the current plane of existence as he flipped through the book, fingers gingerly running over the pages. “Where did you get this?”

“I bought it at an auction. Supposedly, it is written by Falconer in her own hand. Judging by your reaction, it appears I might have got what I paid for.”

Kovacs snapped out of it, bundling the book back up and clearing his throat.

“Listen to me. I spent this entire morning being well and truly fucked around with, so, uh, let me be painfully clear. Some things can’t be bought. I’m not sure about Ms. Griffiths here,” he glanced down at me, “but I, for one, cannot. Now, I didn’t ask you to bring me back into this world. In fact, I fought a war to stop people like you from happening.” Kovacs began to step closer to Bancroft. “So, if someone doesn’t tell me right now what the fuck this is all about… I might very well lose my temper.” He smacked the booklet into Bancroft’s chest, and I felt my cheeks begin to grow flush.

“Understood. Now, this is a full pardon, signed by the president of the Protectorate.”

Kovacs only gave a look of disbelief. “Power is a matter of influence, Mr. Kovacs. And I have had a great deal of influence at the UN. If you agree to my terms, your sentence will be reduced to time served. And then I will open up a very generous line of credit in your name. DNA trace accessible. And when the investigation is over, you may keep this sleeve or choose another. To your own specifications.”

Kovacs said nothing, and I hung back. Bancroft turned to me.

“Don’t think I’ve forgotten about you, Ms. Griffiths. Your parents will be pardoned as well.”

My heart immediately felt like it was going to blow a hole through my chest.

“Finally, I will pay you both a salary of 50 million UN credits. That’s a fortune. You can have any future you want.”

Blood kept rushing to my head, and my ears felt red hot. My vision blurred, and my body began to shake. I felt ready to pass out. Bancroft began to speak again, walking away this time. Kovacs gently put a hand on my waist and guided me to follow, sensing the loss of equilibrium within my body.

“All I ask is that you solve a murder.” Bancroft pulled a white sheet off a wall.

“Whose?” Kovacs stopped us both in front of the blood-splattered wall.

“Mine.”

“This is where I died. When Miriam found me, my head had been vaporized.”

Kovacs’ hold on me had grounded me enough for him to let go. He began to pace the room, and I looked over the brains on the wall.

“It’s an energy weapon?” Kovacs asked.

“Yes. A particle blaster. I keep one for personal protection in a biometric safe that only Miriam and I can open.”

Kovacs and I immediately shared a look, and Bancroft caught on. “Go ahead. Say it. Everyone else has. Either I committed suicide, or my wife murdered me.”

“But you’re still here, meaning your stack is intact, so… you must remember what happened.” The light hit Kovacs in a new way, and I noticed the scar on his sleeve’s eyebrow.

“I’m afraid it’s completely destroyed. RD’d, as they say.”

“So how?”

“Full-spectrum DHF remote storage backup?” I asked.

Bancroft nodded and Kovacs looked at me with a scowl on his face.

“Do you know what that is?” Bancroft asked him.

“Yeah. Just never met anyone filthy rich enough to afford it.” Kovacs scoffed.

Bancroft seemed like his pride was hurt, but he shrugged it off. “Well. I need to show you two something.”

He led us up the stairs to where he had been lurking when we arrived. Kovacs and I shared a look as we followed. I had to double my pace to keep up with Kovacs, who was more likely than not over a foot taller than me.

“Sometimes I come up here when I have decisions to make or difficulties to face.” Bancroft began. “I think about the ancient explorers, back when one could spend a lifetime pursuing the possibilities of the Earth, the oceans, the stars.”

My eyes flickered around the maps and old news articles framed up on the walls. Humanity had landed on the moon for the first time over 400 years ago. These artifacts must’ve cost fortunes.

Bancroft sighed. “I was born in London. When I first moved to what was then, of course, known as the United States, it still had the faintest echoes of the new and brash culture that it once was.”

I glanced over at Kovacs, who was tinkering with something on one of the multiple desks. Bancroft said something about the age of adventurers, and I heard the beeping of a screen. I pulled my eyes from Kovacs and followed his line of sight. A telescope spun our way, and Bancroft gestured toward it.

“Take a look. Tell me what you see.”

Kovacs and I shared another look, and he sensed my hesitation. He placed a reassuring hand on the small of my back before taking a step forward, peering through the eyepiece.

“It’s a Protectorate satellite. Military grade.”

Bancroft hummed. “It is military grade, but it’s not the Protectorates. It’s mine.”

Kovacs’ face took on an unreadable expression as he straightened up, making a subtle effort to keep himself between Bancroft and I.

What had I gotten myself into?

“Every forty-eight hours, my stack is automatically needle cast to it.”

“So your current self has no memory of what happened?” I peeped up from behind the six-something, two hundred-something slab of muscle in front of me.

“No, whoever killed me pulled the trigger ten minutes before my backup went through.”

“Which means all of your memories from those forty-eight hours are gone.”

“Completely. There was an attempted hack on my satellite feed moments after my death. Somebody wants me dead.”

Kovacs peeked back at me over his shoulder. This time, I understood the look in his eyes. Who wouldn’t?

Kovacs took a breath before beginning to slowly circle Bancroft. “For all we know, you did try to kill yourself.”

“You just botched the job.” I deadpanned.

“Mr. Kovacs, Ms. Griffiths, I am not the kind of man who would take his own life. And even if I were,” his eyes turned toward me with a menacing glaze over them, “I’d not have bungled it in such a fashion.”

Kovacs noticed and, once more, took a step in front of me.

“If I’d meant to die, I’d indeed be dead.”

Kovacs chuckled. “I don’t want your money. Or your pardon. I’m not sure about Ms. Griffiths here, but I’ll take eternity on ice. Thanks.” He turned on his heel, and I scurried to stay at his side.

If he was out, then so was I. I didn’t trust Bancroft and I sure as shit wasn’t gonna be stuck in this alone.

“You should take the day, Mr. Kovacs. Go into the city, remember what it is to feel alive. And then, give me your answer. O-oh, and please do take the book. Like everything else I’m offering you, it’s yours if you want it.”

Kovacs looked down at me, and I nodded up at him. Without another word, we made our way out of his study and, with the luck of Miriam not being around, out of the house.

***

In the car, Kovacs stared at his hands. He was beyond deep in thought. It seemed like a flashback that he was struggling to fight his way out of. He was adamant in his decision to be put back under. The driver was going to drop me off on main street in Bay City. I was going to see E.J. for the first time in almost a year. Kovacs would, as Bancroft had suggested, take a night in the city. After that, he would return to Alcatraz, and I would never see him again.

“Ms. Griffiths.” The driver caught my attention.

I looked up, seeing that we were pulled over on the main road. I blinked, and looked up at Kovacs.

“Guess this is goodbye?” I grinned.

He chuckled, but his own grin fell and he shook his head. “Don’t get involved with Bancroft again. I’ve been around long enough, and people like him don’t change.”

I nodded, watching his eyes as they deepened while he thought. “I won’t. Don’t worry about me.”

He met my eyes, and his grin returned. “Stay safe, kid. You’ve got a good head on your shoulders, I suggest you keep it.”

I nodded. “I will. Be safe, Kovacs.”

“Takeshi.” He spoke as I opened my door, ready to get out.

“What?” I looked back.

“Call me Takeshi.”

I smiled, knowing I’d never see him again and that it wouldn’t matter what I called him.

“Goodbye, Takeshi.”

“Goodbye, Nova.”

***

I ran through the rain, dodging the group of teenagers doing the same. I shouldered the metal door open and ducked in, out of the weather. The air inside was stale and there were cobwebs in each corner of the lobby. After it had begun to pour, E.J. had called and asked me to meet him here. It looked like the hotel hadn’t been touched in a few years, give or take. More likely give.

“Eli?” I called out, clutching my bag over my shoulder.

“Ms. Griffiths, welcome.”

“Holy shit, it’s still you?” I turned to Poe, the AI that ran the place.

“It’s not like anyone stays here anymore. No need for an upgrade.”

I turned on my heel and saw E.J. sitting at the bar, drink in hand.

“Dude, you are nineteen, put that shit down.” I made my way over to him, stealing the glass of liquor and downing it. “Poe, stop giving my little brother alcohol.”

“He’s a paying customer, Ms. Griffiths.”

I rolled my eyes and held my arms out. E.J. stood from his seat and embraced the hug, rocking me back and forth from side to side. We had stayed at the Ravel Hotel on one occasion, for two months straight. Our parents were off-planet for a racing event, and they had left us with our uncle. He died in a gang-related shootout two days into our parents’ trip. After a week on the streets, we found our way into The Raven. We had gotten in contact with our dad, and he sent the money to Poe.

“How’ve you been?”

I sighed as he finally let go of me. “It’s been kind of crazy.” I sat down next to him.

“Tell me about it?”

I took a deep breath. “Hey, Poe?”

“Yes, Ms. Griffiths?”

“Nova.” I corrected him. “You’ve known me since I was 12, you can call me by my first name. Can I get a-”

“White Russian, White Russian!” E.J. shouted.

“Eli, stop.” I giggled before looking back at Poe. “Fine. Two White Russians please.” I grinned.

I held my finger to the pay-spot on the bar, pulling it away once it clicked. Poe shuffled our drinks out, and I handed one off to E.J. The door opened, and Poe fluttered over to the front desk. E.J. and I didn’t bother looking over. Probably just some sick freak who needed to get his rocks off. He grinned and pulled out a pack of cigarettes. I rolled my eyes as he held the pack out to me.

“You can’t say shit, I’m 19.”

“Stop being cocky.” I pulled one between my lips and held it up to the lighter he held in his hands.

“Never.” He grinned again as he took a drag of his own cigarette. “So. Who’s the target?”

I scowled. “It fell through.”

“What?” He raised an eyebrow. “You? Lose a target? What happened?”

I rolled my eyes and leaned in. “You know Bancroft?”

E.J. snorted, blowing his cigarette smoke in the other direction. “The fucker who thinks he’s god?”

I nodded. “Yeah. Made this whole big deal about how his last sleeve got his brains blown out but his stack stayed intact.”

“Sounds like he just fucked the job up.”

I grinned. “Exactly what I said. So we split.”

“We?” He repeated, again raising an eyebrow. “Since when do you play well with others?”

“Shut up.” I shoved his shoulder. “It was gonna be a special case. Turns out god is just a fucking moron.”

The door opened again, and this time we looked up. There was no way that many people were just coincidentally here. I immediately rose and pulled E.J. along with me as four men and one woman, all with guns, barged in. I looked toward their intended target.

Takeshi?

“He won’t be needing a room. So much for Envoy Intuition. Voodoo bullshit.”

“Envoy?” E.J. hissed at me as I pulled him to duck behind the bar.

“Just shut up. Do you have anything on you?”

“What?”

“Weapons, Eli.” I hissed back.

He patted himself down, and I pulled my blade from my bag and flicked it open. It was the only good thing my father had left me with. A dagger that transformed into a sword with the flick of a wrist. Eli twisted a silencer onto his gun and matched my position.

“Pardon me, wayfarer, we’re in the midst of conversation.” I heard Poe.

“Shut up, you piece of digibrain shit. My microwave is smarter than you.” The man with his gun on Takeshi’s neck snarled.

“I just want one thing to go right today.” I heard Takeshi’s gruff voice.

“Clearly.” Poe sighed.

“Too bad.”

I began to creep up from my toes, onto my knees. Takeshi turned to face the first man, holding his hands behind his back.

“They said you’d be dangerous. I thought you’d be bigger. They made me bring all this backup. What a waste of my time. I don’t need them.”

By now, I was on my haunches, peering up over the counter of the bar. Poe made eye contact with me and gave the slightest shake of his head. Although he was just a bundle of code, Poe had become more human than some people. He cared about E.J. and I, in his own strange, AI way.

“Fuck you, Dimi.” One of the men hissed, only to earn a bullet to the head.

Dimi? I had to take this fucker down for sure. I’d never have to work another day in my life.

“I have to clean that up.” Poe sighed.

“What?” Dimi growled.

“Uh, he had it coming.” Takeshi nodded. “He was rude.”

E.J. had made his way up next to me, gun held tightly. Poe shook his head at us once more.

“I could take you myself without even breaking a sweat.” Dimi got in Takeshi’s face. “Move.”

He shoved Takeshi to the middle of the group, which meant that they all now had their backs to us. Takeshi caught my eye over the counter, and his eyes widened. I gave him a cocky grin, and E.J. looked between the two of us, confused.

“Good sir, I cannot assume host prerogatives without payment.” Poe urged Takeshi.

“You want to get him a hot towel?” Dimi taunted. “You’re some kind of moron, staying in an AI hotel. Possessive like a crazy girlfriend. No one stays in them anymore.”

“Really? I hadn’t heard that.”

Dimi hit the top of Takeshi’s spine with his gun, and the Envoy crashed to the ground with a grunt. I made my choice. I tapped Eli’s gun and pointed my sword toward the woman, who was the closest to us.

“For guest amenities, please, touch the screen.”

Dimi hit Takeshi in the face this time, sending him sprawled onto his back. Eli and I stood slowly, boots silent against the wooden floor. He was taller, and by now, far stronger. We nodded at each other, and he clapped a hand over her mouth. I knocked her gun out of her hand with my sword, catching it in my hand before it could clatter to the floor. The others were too distracted with beating Takeshi up to notice.

Poe’s cold eyes flickered between Takeshi getting his shit rocked and us. The woman struggled, and I made another quick decision. I cut her throat, and Takeshi began to speak at the same time, covering the gurgling sound. E.J. grabbed her now limp sleeve and dragged her to the side.

“It’s not voodoo, which, by the way, absolutely is bullshit. It’s a form of subliminal pattern recognition.” Takeshi began to explain, keeping his eyes ahead as he crawled back toward Poe.

“What the fuck does that mean?” Dimi grabbed him by the shoulder and pulled him up, putting his gun to Takeshi’s face.

As Dimi continued to threaten Takeshi’s sleeve, if not his stack, E.J. and I continued our quiet routine. Another man down, another sleeve thrown aside.

“You know, it’s about the details.”

Another hit, Takeshi landing back onto the coffee table. I flinched, surprised it hadn’t broken under his weight.

“Where’s the big bad boy Envoy killer from the past?” Dimi shouted.

“Twenty seconds.” Poe reminded him.

I grimaced. I couldn’t make my way to the front desk and do it for him without being noticed.

“Fight, goddamn it! What, you lost your balls? Did something change while you were down?”

Takeshi got back to his feet, staging himself between the back desk and Dimi. “Nothing changed.”

Two kicks to the stomach. I had enough. I looked at Eli and gave him a nod.

“People like you are still stupid.” Takeshi ended up at the front desk, finger in the right place.

E.J. took his first shot, and Dimi turned at the small noise. I thrusted my sword through another man’s chest. Poe lowered the machine guns from the ceiling, and I dropped to the ground, ducking behind a column to keep myself safe. I watched as E.J. did the same. Poe cocked a shotgun and began to shoot people down, and Takeshi began to pummel Dimi.

One of Dimi’s people tried to back behind a column, having the same idea we had. I counted the rounds that Poe’s machine guns fired, finding the right timing. I ran from the safety of my cover and plunged my sword into the man’s chest, dropping his sleeve down into the open fire. The men dropped like flies, and I kept my eyes on Takeshi. He round-house kicked Dimi in the stomach, and I swallowed hard. It was rather difficult to deny just how attracted to him I was becoming.

“Nova!”

I turned toward E.J.’s voice, only to see a man much bigger than me coming my way, a knife in his hand. I struggled to scramble to my feet, slipping in the blood of the sleeves I had killed. I fell flat onto my back and held my sword up, hoping I had enough coordination to shield myself from his knife.

There was the sound of Poe’s shotgun, and the men fell down on top of me. I groaned as I felt his knife slice through the skin of my thigh. The only person left was Dimi. Takeshi had him cornered against a sofa, fist raised.

“Who sent you?”

Dimi laughed, and I coughed, spitting blood aside as E.J. came running, pulling the sleeve off of me. I felt my consciousness begin to slip away, and I struggled to stay awake. E.J. pulled me up to sit, letting my back rest against a column. I watched from behind heavy eyelids as Takeshi put Dimi in a chokehold.

“Who sent you?”

He squirmed his way free, putting himself in the direct way of the machine guns. Takeshi urged Poe to hold back, but Poe didn’t listen. Dimi went down, and Takeshi sighed heavily.

“Ask this of your microwave, miscreant.”

Poe became quiet once he sensed that he had done something Takeshi didn’t like. “Apologies. Your room beckons.”

“Bite this.” E.J. shoved his leather belt between my teeth and didn’t give me time to react before pulling the knife from my leg.

I couldn’t help the scream that tore through my throat. Takeshi’s eyes went wide and he scrambled to our sides, hand immediately coming to my shoulder. He ripped a sleeve off and immediately began to tie it around my wound, flinching when I did.

“Nova, what happened? Are you okay?”

I coughed, and blood speckled onto his white button-up. E.J. brushed my hair out of my face and I winced.

“Sorry, Takeshi.”

He shook his head. “Don’t worry about it.”

“Fucker nailed me when he dropped.” I pushed out, feeling light-headed once more.

“I can stitch her up.” E.J. grabbed my hand, squeezing it to try and keep me awake.

“No.” I hissed.

E.J. knew what he was doing, but it always hurt like a bitch. Takeshi looked me over and sighed, pulling me off the column so that he could hoist me into his arms.

“I’ll help you hold her down.” He adjusted me bridal-style and stood.

“God, fuck you both.” My voice was scratchy, and the lights began to look spotty.

“Just rest, Nov. We’ve got you.” Eli whispered, and I let the darkness consume me as my sleeve went heavy in Takeshi’s arms.

***

“What happened to a meal, getting laid, and restacking forever?”

I looked up from my plate to see Ortega walking over to us, hands on her hips. Takeshi took a drag of his cigarette before looking her way.

“I got interrupted.” He downed a shot.

“Who the fuck are these guys?”

“I don’t know.” Takeshi shrugged. “But they knew me.”

“Di-”

“They called you by name? Are you sure?” Ortega cut me off and I sighed, going back to pushing around the pasta on my plate.

“Eat.” Eli urged me.

I sighed again. “I really don’t want to.”

“Kristin!” The man Takeshi and I had seen drop off Bancroft’s son was there, working on the scene. “Four of them are just local muscle, but this sleeve is registered to Dimitri Kadmin. Ulan Bator registry.” He showed Ortega the tablet in his hands.

Ortega punched his arm, excited. “We got him.”

“Got who?” Takeshi looked over at me.

“Dimitri Kadmin, hitman out of Vladivostok.” I cut Ortega off this time. “Otherwise known as Dimi the Twin. Does a lot of work for the yakuza. Bastard doesn’t trust anyone, so he double-sleeves.”

“Isn’t the penalty real death?” E.J. asked.

Ortega’s partner nodded. “We hold onto his stack, and sooner or later we catch the other version of him out there, and then he’s done.”

Ortega let out a string of curses, and her partner looked her way. “What, what’s going on?”

“Stack is fragged. Not enough left to spin him up to interrogate. Fuck.”

“You couldn’t just disable them?” Ortega hissed at Poe.

“I was coming to the defense of my first guest in about a decade.” Poe took a shot of his own.

“With enough firepower to bring down an airplane.” Ortega spat back.

“Hey, Poe is fully licensed for customer protection. You know that. Not to mention, I got fucking knived.”

“You’ve shot people for less.” Her partner reminded her, and she brushed him off.

“So, Dimitri’s a high-end hitman?” Takeshi spoke up.

“Yeah, top of the line.” Ortega scowled.

“Then Bancroft’s death wasn’t a suicide.”

“Of course. Because who would wanna kill an asshole like you?” Ortega’s partner scoffed.

“Plenty of people. A few centuries ago.” Takeshi lit another cigarette.

Resleeved in the body of a hard-core nicotine addict was how he had put it.

“Kovacs doesn’t merit this kind of hit unless they wanna stop him from looking into Bancroft’s death.” I put together what Takeshi himself had been getting at.

“Instead of blaming us, how about you apply your impressive policing skills.” Takeshi scoffed at them.

“Less than eight hours out of the tank, and you’re already up to your eyes in organic damage and real death.”

Takeshi grabbed his unicorn backpack, which I had learned an hour ago was full of illegal street drugs, kissed the top of it, and slung it over his shoulder. He held his hand out for me, and I looked between him and E.J. My little brother nodded at me, and I took Takeshi’s hand, letting him help me off the stool.

“I could find a way to arrest you two for this.” Ortega threatened.

“Yeah?” Takeshi taunted as he led us past them. “You make up your mind, we’ll be upstairs.” He helped me stay steady as we wove through the sleeves strung on the floor.

Ortega tried to come after us, and her partner grabbed her, pulling her back and telling us to leave it. My foot slipped over a piece of glass, and I winced, grip on Takeshi’s hand tightening.

“Here.” He held my hand with one of his and grabbed my waist with the other, letting my weight rest against his side.

I felt like I was going to faint as his muscles moved under his shirt, rubbing against my own body. He hit the button to our floor and closed his eyes. I felt his body relax, but his grip on my waist stayed firm.

“Takeshi?” I whispered, looking up.

He met my gaze.

“I need to take the case. These people know who I am. I can't put my brother at risk like that.”

He only nodded and looked forward once more. His eyes fluttered shut, and he seemed to be absorbed into another flashback, like he had been in the car after we met Bancroft. It seemed to entrap him even as he led me to my room. He was fighting hard, his fingers beginning to bunch up the material of my shirt. I said nothing, returning the reassuring hand on his back. He helped me get to my bed, and, without a word, tears forming in his hazel-green eyes, turned and walked out of the room.

I laid on my back and sighed. This man was torn apart beyond belief, but he was a force to be reckoned with. This would be, by far, the most intense job I had ever and would ever work.

#altered carbon #altered carbon fic #altered carbon oc #takeshi kovacs x oc #takeshi kovacs x reader #takeshi kovacs #nova griffiths #junowrites

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the-crows-typist · 3 years

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Hi Lemilia-senpai! Can i ask for a romantic and fluffy ficlet with Silver and a fem crush with the word “cooking” please? Thank you!

Good day, I’m back. Work has been kicking my ass but hopefully I get to the full swing of things as the year progresses. Please enjoy this fic with some hints of familial and romantic love.

Word count: 4,735

The Possibilites are Endless

“I want to make you proud.”

Silver’s family was among the fae, it had always been, and despite being the only human many did not hesitate to show affection towards him. Try as he may, Silver had no memory of his youth before Lilia took him in though the old man did say he smelled of charred wood when he found him but that was all he could surmise. Malleus, another boy Llia raised into adulthood, looked after him and another boy, Sebek. Their lives were relatively easy but it came with the promise and training to become Malleus’ royal guards

Silver had a knack of roaming the halls alone when he wasn’t studying or practicing swordsmanship. He liked to trail the smell of the kitchen; the staff were nice to him and since he didn’t pose much trouble, they allowed him to look through their work station granted he doesn’t touch anything hot. The soft creaking of the door and pattering of feet would always be acknowledged by the chefs before they went back to work.

Ever the curious boy he was, he walked up to the one of the stations with his nose smelling salt, pepper, and thyme. His eyes would sparkle at the cooking materials before him, palms almost itching to grab it.

His small hands reached for a hammer, one made of wood and had spiked endings. He looked up at the sound of laughter, the chef smile down at him after cutting crosses into the meat he was preparing. “Interested in that?” Silver was inclined to put it back before it was lifted out of his hold with magic. “This is a meat tenderizer, it helps you make the meat softer before cooking.”

“What happens if you don’t hammer it?” Silver tipped his toes, looking at the raw meat seasoned with spices that tickled his nose.

“It’ll be tough to chew,” The chef let the hammer float out his hands, hovering over the peace of meat to beat it with hard slaps. “Why don’t you sit down over there and I’ll make you a snack and then you’ll see the difference.”

He sat obediently on a stool, watching the chef get to work with the many spices and herbs that he smelled that sizzled with the meat. Yes, he had enjoyed the luxury of his new life under the fae but it wasn’t always this comforting or relaxing. Malleus and Lilia were often busy and Sebek…While Sebek was fun to play with, his loud personality often made Silver exhausted.

“Can I help?”

There was a beat of hesitation and the drop of the shoulders that he had seen almost familiarity “When you’re able to handle the hammer with magic.” The chef smiled at him again but Silver already knew what that meant. What he could handle was different from people like Lilia could handle.

His look was dejected but it was something he was used to hearing. The limits of those of the fae and humans were vastly different and their treatment of him was a testament to that; always protected and never seeing the front, always staying behind and never someone’s side. The silence was deafening and his eyelids grew heavy, slipping into a sleep he didn’t want to go into. A dream begets one’s deepest desires, a long yearning for something so awaited for so long. He dreamed of standing next to someone, their cloak fluttering in the wind.

Ah, yes…This is what he wanted the most.

Perhaps one day, he’ll stand side by side with someone. Someday…

His eyes opened, the apple tree lending light to him from the small crevices and holes formed by leaves and branches. Riddle sat next to him, sweaty from their previous ordeal. They had cooked so much meals that day that the ghosts had asked them to take a break.

“Heat doesn’t affect us,” Said the head chef. “The students are not yet accustomed to the kitchen so it’s best to let them rest.” His head craned to Riddle and Silver. “A good thirty minutes will do.”

“Hm,” Riddle leaned his head against the bark. “The next judges are Jamil, Vil and Malleus…They’re the hardest trio to please.” Silver grimaced, first a dream that bore into his heart then having to face Malleus? Talk about bad timing. “What are we cooking this time?” Silver asks.

“Beef stew.”

There was a grimacing from both of them and Silver pushed himself off the ground. “The sooner we finish this, the better.” Offering his hand to Riddle, he pulled his classmate from the grass. “Please don’t hesitate to tell me when I’m dozing off this time.” The redhead let out a small laugh, remembering the moment Silver fell asleep while stirring some ingredients. “I will.”

The two walked back to the kitchen sharing a brief silence together, “Do you…” Silver began. “Do you often doubt your abilities?” Riddle tilted his head before Silver explained once more. “What I mean is that you question if you’re really as strong as people say you are…Or something like that.”

“I do. Many times.” Their walk slowed and Riddle looks at his pen, its pristine gem clear and pure of the ink that once dwelled within it. “Even after I became the dorm leader, I always do. My magic cancels out others, yes, people often think that my magic is the strongest they’ve seen but in reality, it’s rigid and stiff and above all, conditional.”

There was a look of remembrance in his face and Riddle sighed, pocketing his pen neatly onto his uniform. “People like Leona, Azul and all others after me hold magic far greater than what I can ever hope to achieve. I have moments when I think of myself as not being strong enough, being bitter about what I can’t do.”

Silver sighs, perhaps he shouldn’t have asked but seeing Riddle suddenly smile made him pause. “But that also means that even I have a long way to go in perfecting my magic.”

“And what better way to improve than by improving one’s talent in cooking?” Riddle’s smile was sweet and Silver couldn’t help but return it. “That’s right.”

“Ah, but…I should really get used to cutting onions.”

“You’ll get them right, eventually.”

The three judges took their seats. Silver closed his eyes, holding the meat tenderizer tightly in his hand. The presence of someone he wanted to impress wasn’t doing wonders for his insides.

Vil pulled him seat closer, eyeing Riddle with a smirk. He had been a judge in the past along with Jamil. “We’ll be in your care.” Vil says. “As far as charred remains go, I expect a lovely dish. Perhaps control the fire you use this time.” There was a noise of embarrassment and Riddle pouted. “I…I have improved my craft with Silver,” His goes back to his dignified pose, of that of a king, “I will not serve food that isn’t up to your standards.”

A huffing laughter and Vil leaned back on his seat. “Make my taste buds sing, Queen of Hearts.” Malleus regarded the two with a calculated gaze. “How is Silver in all this?” He asked his junior, Riddle had just taken out some garlic, onion and potatoes while Silver went to the back to prepare the meat, clearly not wanting to look but listening to Riddle’s criticisms.

“He has done well with a few close calls.” Riddle explained. “I cannot say for certain which of us is doing the best since I have resigned myself from that thinking. This event isn’t to see who cooks better but to teach those who want to know the craft.”

Malleus chuckles and Riddle lets him go on his way. “Then he is in good hands. I shall look forward to your creations, Rosehearts, Silver.”

Jamil looked to his side, eyes wide suddenly. “I didn’t you were coming along, prefect.” You came in with a camera and some notepads in your hands, it was clear that you rushed your way to the building. “I have to record this moment for the school newspaper.”

You waved at Silver and gave you a smile in return. While your appearance in Night Raven was sudden, you and Silver had grown close quickly and often joining each other for lunch or spending time together after school. Your presence was calming him but also an indicator that he should do well.

“Just act like I’m not here.” You ready your camera and took a shot.

Jamil’s eyes looked at how they worked through the kitchen, so far so good in terms of food prep. Riddle was meticulous with handling the knife…Though he needed some time to perfect cutting onions without crying. He can’t blame him, he had the same problem when he was starting out. The meat tenderizer hit the raw meat a few times before being cut into small pieces.

Silver seemed to have prior knowledge to cooking and he was faring out better than Riddle. The smell of garlic, onion, carrots and potato mixed together perfectly. So far, so good. It wasn’t long for you to kneel beside him to take a picture of the cooking area from a different angle. “I think they’re doing well. No bad fires or anything!” You whispered to Jamil and he only shrugged his shoulders.

“Indeed.” Jamil leaned back on his seat. “Silver and you hang out together often, correct?”

“Yup, during lunch times mostly.”

Jamil nodded his head. “Then you’ll be able to see what I’m seeing in a clearer light.” A wave of confusion washes over you and you look onto Silver without the eyes of a photographer. His eyes determined yet his shoulders tight and rigid, those shaking hands handling equipment flimsily.

“It’s only proper that you put good posture into everything you do,” Jamil lectured. “In cooking it is a necessity, no less. And while I understand he wants to do his best given the leader of his dorm will be a judge …” He placed a hand on his chin in thought.

“You think this behavior runs deeper, is that it?”

Jamil smiled at you, shrugging his shoulders. You set your camera on the table, letting your knees rest. “Silver doesn’t talk much about his dorm.” You explain. “He feels that he doesn’t need to…But out of the group he’s always with, he tries the hardest.”

Silver sets the meat and cut vegetables into a pressure cooker. “The hardest?” You look down at your feet, your memories filing to the days he chose to be vulnerable around you. It was under one of the apple trees.

“When you’re different, you do what it takes to belong. While I have been reminded time and time again that it isn’t needed…” His eyes are downcast, staring into nothing; a big sigh lets his shoulders grow and recede. “It’s harder to keep trying when the difference is so obvious.”

Jamil is silent and so were you. The pressure cooker had been set and the waiting game began, Riddle was quick to shake Silver out of what might have been a sleeping spell. “Silver’s strength is immense and his skills make him almost a danger to those who try threaten the people he loves,”

“I just wish he wouldn’t be so hard on himself.” The camera was pulled to your chest, you expression worrisome.

Jamil looks down, almost feeling guilty for prying. “I’m sorry I asked.”

“You didn’t know.” You reassured him.

The judging round was tense for both Silver and Riddle, the three students in front of them had the most refined palates in the entire school. The plates were shaking in their hands, Riddle handing one plate to Jamil then to Vil and leaving Silver to Malleus.

The flash of the camera made everything hazy, suddenly the sound of silence was too deafening. The plate rattled in his grip.

He needed to do well. He must do everything well.

“Silver?”

He closed his eyes and breathing deeply. There was anticipation and then concern as he tittered over.

“Silver.”

The light headedness was gripping him and he was swaying, he couldn’t breathe properly.

“Silver!”

The plate shatters when it slipped out of his hands and Silver goes down to the ground with a loud thud, a collective gasp runs silences the entire room. You and Riddle bolt, taking Silver up in your arms and pulled him up from the hot mess of ceramic and spilled food. He was blinking wildly, only coming into consciousness seconds later.

He sees the mess, he sees his own legs sprawled on the floor with his head reeling in confusion and fear. Then he looks up at Malleus whose green eyes bore an expression he couldn’t understand in all the panic that rose within him.

All the words said to him were things he couldn’t hear in the strong beat that rattled in his ears. Malleus blinked, a hand reaching out to him with lips speaking but couldn’t be head. “Silver, are you—?” Silver gets up and immediately runs out of the building, pushing you and Riddle aside.

“He’s not answering his phone.” You say, pulling the receiver off your ear. The mess had already been cleaned and destroyed plate disposed of. Malleus stood beside you, holding the last shard of broke plate carefully in his hands.

“Please give me the shard. I’ll take care of it—.” Riddle offered his hand but was met with only a question in return. “Tell me, Silver has been practicing with you this whole time.” The redhead faltered and his hand went limp on his side. “Has he said anything to you, anything at all?”

Riddle was silent, his head hung in thought. “All he ever told me was all about cooking but…He did ask me one question about doubting yourself..” Malleus blinks then sets the shard down on the table behind him.

You set your phone back and Malleus closed his eyes. “I see.”

Pocketing your phone, you give your camera to Riddle. “I’ll go look for him.”

“I’m coming too.”

Jamil walked to your side but before you could deny his request, he gave a sympathetic smile. “Consider it my apology for prying.”

“Silver, what is this?”

Lilia had come in at such a bad time, the stew he was trying to cook had burned in his sleep. With a flick of his wrist and snap of his fingers, the fire has disappeared into a pillar of smoke. The stew was a murky black and it smelled of charred remains.

“Papa, I—!”

Dread filled his soul, Lilia had approached the cauldron to lean down and scoop a spoonful of ruined stew and ate it in one bite.

“It’s good.”

Silver didn’t flinch when Lilia’s hand set itself on his head. “Needs a bit more salt but it’s good. You’d make a good chef one day.”

“You didn’t have to lie to me.”

Silver’s hat had been discarded and so was the meat tenderizer, the tall boy huddled between the large roots of an old tree with hands around his shoulders and legs to his chest. He closed his eyes, remembering Lilia’s smiling face as he pat his head and assuring him whatever he makes tasted good.

And yet…

His body calmed, limbs relaxed and eyes hollow. The winds blew the trees, the wood irked and the leaves hissed like rain. He blew it. He totally blew it. Everything he had been doing up until that point was perfect and thanks to Riddle he didn’t fall asleep even once.

That was until he had to present his work to the judges. Malleus was a prince, after all, it was expected that he would be served nothing less than perfection. What he did was an absolute embarrassment to him and as the appointed knight to the royal family.

“Raise your head a little higher, strengthen your grip on the sword. Yes, very good.” The young boy’s hand was adjusted, the heir apparent holding it gently with his long fingers against his wrist. “This part, your wrist, is the most valuable part in handling a blade.” Malleus’ smile betrayed his concern for him. “So take care of it for me, alright?”

Even in his youth, Malleus was so careful with him as if he were an extremely delicate porcelain doll.

“Lilia told me you had come down with a bad case of the stomach bug. Honestly, what were they thinking feeding you such a meal?” Malleus’ hand would come to feel his forehead. “I’ll have the palace healer bring you some brews to ease your stomach pain.” The prince brushed some hair off his sweating face. “Rest, Silver.”

What was the point of being a knight if all he ever did was stay behind at his orders?

“You have to stay here and protect Sebek.” Beyond the castle walls, Silver could hear the roars of invading beast of the night and corrupted village people. Malleus held the boy’s shoulders while Silver pulled at his robes. “I can’t let any one of you get hurt. No one should.”

All he ever wanted…

“Silver,” Malleus would call for him.

Was to be next to him.

His hand would come up as it always did, his fingers ready to run through his hair. “Silver,” He’d call out to him.

That’s all he ever wanted.

“Silver,”

“Found you.”

His eyes opened, your hand resting on his shoulder. The wind blew and making your hair fly, framing your face as you smiled at him. “You…” He turned his head when Jamil made his presence known

. “I didn’t expect you to choose the forest as a hiding place. It took us a while to pinpoint where you were.” Your hand left his shoulder and you sat in front of him. “Do you want to talk about it?”

The wind blew again, the warming breeze provided him time to think things through. “All my life it’s been that way.” He buries his nose onto his knees. “I don’t want to stand behind someone forever.”

“Then don’t.”

Jamil kneels down next to you Silver’s stunned silence made him look away from a moment, flushed embarrassment on his cheeks. “W-what I mean is…If you don’t like the position you’re in then you have to move. It’s a hard process but the first step matters the most.”

“I don’t know—.”

“Uncertainty comes with it, if that what you’re asking.” The boy shrugged his shoulders. “There’s no going around it.”

“Malleus was upset when you left suddenly. I think its best you talk to him, let him know you’re alright.” Your smile had become a calming factor for Silver and soon the cold grip on his insides loosened. “Can I make the beef stew again? I think I got it right this time.”

“Ah but I’ll need some help.”

You giggle, waving your hands and waggling your fingers. “You’ve got four hands readily available.”

Malleus had walked the campus to every corner he could and not once did he see the familiar mop of messy white hair in the sea of people. The prince sighed, looking down at the shard of ceramic plate tucked in his hand.

“Sebek.” He called for the guard who straightened up too much. “You’re dismissed, I can handle this on my own.”

“But Master—.”

He folded his hands over his chest, the arching brows giving the younger guard the entire message in one go. He reluctantly bowed his head, “Understood.” And left for another route but not without turning his head to Malleus one last time.

Now that he was alone, Malleus let out another sigh. As years go by, his heart becomes no stranger to loss but time did not ease the pain no matter how long or how distant the memories were. Raising Silver brought on emotions he did not expect to feel in a very long time, this human boy once so fragile and small grew to be one of the greatest guards he could ever hope to raise.

And it all happened too fast.

It made him protective, even hesitant to let Silver into any harm even if he was raised to be his guard.

“Silver, come here.”

A young boy held his robes over his knees, the sore wound red after tripping over sharp rocks. Malleus’ hand hovered over his wound, healing it shut but the pain still remained. It wouldn’t be long until Silver was taken into his arms and resting against his shoulder that his heart felt a sudden warmth, contentedness.

Lilia smiled at him where he stood and turned to leave, giving them privacy. The young boy’s small hands held Malleus’ robes into his palms with a sigh and the prince stroked his back. The warmth in his heart never stopped no matter how many years hand passed.

Yet the bitterness of lost time always found its way back.

“Silver.” The piece of plate in his glove suddenly felt more sentimental than once perceived.

“Please let us cook again.” All of you had bowed your heads in front of the ghost who was getting ready to leave for the afterlife. “Ah but—.”

“Please, I won’t fall asleep this time…Or break a plate…Or burn myself…Or—.” Silver was promptly stopped at the ghost’s laughter. “I understand, I’m in no hurry to leave but since this request is so sudden, I’ll have to relegate all the cleaning to you. It’s only fair.”

You, Jamil and Silver smiled together and the ghost only felt warmth at the spry young people in front of him. “Riddle.” He turned to the redhead. “Please show them where the meat is being stored.”

“Of course. This way, all of you.”

“We’re gonna cook, we’re gonna cook!!!” You say, pushing Silver’s shoulders as you walked to the freezer.

“They’re a bit too excited, aren’t they?” Riddle asked Jamil who only shrugged his shoulders.

“That’s just who they are.”

The comfortable silence was long and the students were cutting up their greens just as the meat seared in the pan. “Back home, my grandma taught me all the recipes I needed to know to keep the family going.” You’d explain, peeling the potato perfectly and handing it to Riddle to be cut. “Once a month, we’d have a big get-together and cook our favorite foods and eat it.”

Silver set aside the chopped onion, washing his hands knowing what happened to Riddle when he didn’t. The meat was taken and in came the vegetables into the pot. “Okay, we should stir fry the vegetables for a moment and let it cook.” Riddle says, tipping his toes to look into the pot.

“I’ve mostly cooked for necessity.” Jamil explained, leaning against the sink with a smirk. “But I can see the charm of being able to cook with or without help. It’s calming.”

Riddle sighs and begins to add water into the pot along with the meat and seasoning. “It was only recently that I started cooking, can’t say that it’s fun but the end result is rewarding. I want to perfect my skill as much as possible. I can’t always rely on others or on magic all my life.”

“What about you, Silver?” You ask, moving to cover the pot to let everything simmer.

“…My father’s cooking is not very good.”

There was collective sigh of understanding, you pat his back knowing he went seventeen years of this. “But he tries very hard,” He explains further. “More than anyone else in the Valley of Thorns. He’d cook for everyone he took care of despite the packed schedule he has.”

He remembers Lilia slaving away over a cauldron one night all those years ago, plates of mushrooms and prepared rice around him and a cookbook floating overhead. His fingers were bandaged and eyes trained to the book. Mushroom Risotto. Silver’s favorite dish.

“While I do want to cook for myself, I also want my father to enjoy tasty meals whenever he can. It’s only right that he does.” You smile, leaning your head against his shoulder while your hand rub the other one. “You’re a sweet person, Silver.”

“I’m just doing the right thing.” He reasoned.

“And that’s the sweetest thing anyone can do.”

Silver wasn’t telling the entire truth, he shamefully admitted to himself. While his father, his family, meant so much to him; you had a special place in his heart. The way you spoke to him, the way your presence soothed him, everything about you was something he cherished.

Just seeing you smile was enough to last him the day.

While he wanted his father to enjoy yummy meals by his son, he also wanted you to smile with each bite.

But he can’t say that, no, he shouldn’t. It would ruin the surprise and bitter the meal.

“It should be ready.” Riddle says, placing a protective cloth over the lid and pulling it open. Silver could not hide his smile when you let out a sound of amazement, the smell of cooked beef and the spices made your mouth water.

“I wanna try a bite.” You say but Jamil had to pull you away. “Let it cool,” He says like a tired older brother. “You’re going to burn your tongue.”

“But I wanna taste!”

Riddle sighs, shaking his head. “Let us at least plate it and have it judged.”

Your whining voice was met with a pat on the head and the food was whisked away to be plated and presented to the Jamil and then you. Silver’s huffed when you let out a sigh of delight when they delicious looking food was set in front of you.

“Dig in, both of you.” Riddle said. “Tell me what you think.”

Utensils brushed against each other and the anticipation built up when you and Jamil took a bite. You squealed at the taste, tiny jumps on your feet when the flavor exploded in your mouth. “It’s good!” You exclaim. “The balance is just right and the meat is so tender.”

Jamil nods his head, taking in another bite of the stew. “It’s good, you need to be careful with how you handle your seasonings next time. Too much of anything can ruin the dish but your method of tenderizing the meat is good and your vegetables are cooked and stewed perfectly. Good work.”

Riddle and Silver smiled to themselves, their chests beaming with pride at a job well done. You move forward, bringing your spoon to Silver’s lips. “Say ah!” You say and his cheeks go pink, you were too close and by the seven, you looked so cute.

“I—.”

“Ah!”

The spoon went into his mouth with a surprised expression, the taste of meat and the knowledge that spoon was used by you before him made his heart flutter. An indirect kiss. He chewed, his hand over his lips. “It’s yummy right? You cook really well.”

Your smile melted his heart, his shoulders hunching over and lips pursed. “Thank you. If you’d like, I can try other recipes for you.” He offered and you gleefully nodded your head and holding your hands to his. “Yes, yes! I’d absolutely love that.”

Jamil leaned over to Riddle, whispering “Smooth.”

The dorm leader chuckled. “Indeed.”

Silver stood next to you, speaking about the food you ate and sharing in the sweet clarity of a wish he didn’t know came true.

The ghost floated afar, settling just under the tree with Malleus by his side. The two watched the youth eating their creations in the kitchen, being merry and experimenting, discussing and playful. Silver’s smile was soft compared to yours but the playful personality of a young boy growing was still there.

The ceramic shard sat inside the hold of the heir apparent, the green eyes seeing world after world basking in the new reality of one he had held so dear. “He’s grown, hasn’t he?” he asked the ghost. “He has, indeed.”

You hugged Silver’s arm laughing, Malleus’ heart beating slow in tenderness for the smiling boy who stood beside you.

“To think he had troubles holding up your hammer all those years ago.”

The ghost laughed, bringing his hands behind his back. “It had been that long, hasn’t it, your majesty?”

Silver stood next to you, his wish finally fulfilled.

“Long enough to for time to pass by like in a blink of an eye.”

#works from the typewriter #silver x reader #fem reader #twisted wonderland #twst silver #twst silver x reader

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tooweirdforyou · 3 years

Text

Want » Sugawara Koushi x Fem! Reader

Inspired by this post!

A/N : I’m really trying to branch off from One Piece but like, I’m too worried of what people think and expecting only One Piece even though I said I don’t care anymore but then insecurity overwhelms me and yeah. Life.

Summary : Sugawara spends the afternoon with you, relaxing and sharing deep thoughts and wishes. He expresses his desire to take what he wants, and you encourage him.

“Koushi!”

The silverette looks up from the grassy field, sitting up into a upright position and waves his hand towards you.

Being a couple meters away, you jog the rest of the way to his side and held up the plastic bag of snacks.

“Sorry for the wait, I had to make a stop.”

You smile apologetically as you knelt beside him on the grass. The tiny green leaves or stems(?) tickled your skin since you wore shorts but you paid it no mind.

Sugawara peeks in the bag and widens his eyes. “You didn’t have to grab anything, I hope it wasn’t too expensive.”

“Don’t worry, this is nothing compared to what I buy for myself on the weekends.” You assure with a grin, making him sweatdrop but nonetheless smile gratefully.

“Well, thank you. I see you got all the good snacks too!” He reaches in and pulls out some ice cream bars, glad they weren’t melting yet and held on out for you.

You gingerly take the ice cream bar from his soft hands and nod at his comment.

“It was a great deal too! I also got Ukai to give a couple protein bars for free, when he found out I was coming to see you. Said something about you needing to keep your energy and strength, even when not in practice.”

The pretty setter’s smile weakens at that mention but he still held it nonetheless. You notice.

“Yeah.. thanks for agreeing to come on such a short notice.. especially when it’s getting late.”

The two of you look up from the grassy fields, you plopping the bar into your mouth as you stare at the orange sky, the sun preparing for its descent.

“No problem, I’m always here for you..” Sneaking a glance towards the setter beside you, you bit down on your ice cream bar and see his slightly sullen expression. “So, what’s on your mind?”

“... I’m distraught.. there’s so much on my mind and.. I don’t know what it is, but something is tugging on me to reach for something.” Sugawara admits, looking back down at the grass and held the ice cream bar in the air.

You listen carefully and continue to eat your ice cream bar, choosing to lick instead of bite.

“Perhaps a goal you intend to reach?.. I know you guys are planning to head to nationals, so maybe it’s a gut feeling that you should keep reaching for it and it’ll come?”

Sugawara gave a better smile at your shared thoughts and holds a rather, confident and ambitious expression. “I’m not too worried about that. With how our team is going, I know we’re going to nationals this year... even if it means Kageyama takes my place.” His smile slowly becomes bitter at the thought.

You frown slightly and switched hands of your ice cream bar to place your hand on top of his on the grass.

Sugawara almost visibly stiffens and tenses at the touch, his eyes widening a bit as he glances down at your touched hands and then up at you.

Your firm stare to him makes him taken back.

“Koushi.”

Sugawara’s smile softens at his name from your lips and turns away, nodding but kept his hand under yours.

“I know. I won’t give up.” He assures, both to himself and you, your grasp tightening on his hand. You bit your lower lip and gave a slight nod. “..okay.”

Sugawara looks up at the sky again, letting out a breath of air.

“But nationals isn’t it.. maybe.. it’s something else..” Sugawara mumbles this as he takes a glance at you, eyes wandering your calm features and your continuous bites of your ice cream bar.

He takes in the way your [ color ] hair sways in the slight wind that picks up, or the bright smile you wore whenever you see him or any of the team members in your line of sight.

You weren’t an official manager of the team, it was more like you were a supporter, constantly showing up abruptly with energizing snacks and sharing your cheers and supports during practice or games.

And even to him and the other players that didn’t get to play as often, you always cheer them up with special treatment and gifts, praising their skills during practice or assuring them that they truly are capable of being on the starting line-up.

It was really.. incredibly sweet.

You never missed a moment to praise one of the members or the whole team for their skills or share your thoughts, even if it was just to point out your compliments or smallest movements you noticed they made.

And the fact that you were still here beside him, listening to his thoughts and offering your input and advice to him.. it made his soft setter’s heart warm.

Were you the cause of his distress? His weird, tugging feeling on his heart strings?

Was that why he called you? Because something in him was craving to see you? To hear your voice and have you by his side?

No, he already knew the answer to that.

Sugawara takes a final look to your touched hands with his and smiles to himself.

“Well,” your voice makes him look up at you. “If it’s something else, first priority is to find out what it is.” You remove your hand from atop of Sugawara’s, much to his dismay, and held up a finger.

“Second, know that, whatever it is you want, reach for it and grab it. Take it into your hands and say, “I want you.” And keep it.” You held up another finger and smiled as you stare over at Sugawara.

“And third, never let it go, unless you really need to or it goes away on its own, which hopefully for you, it never does.” You giggle at that, holding up three fingers total.

“And that, is how you reach and achieve a goal.”

Sugawara listens intently before grinning to himself and placing his finished ice cream bar stick bag into the wrapper and setting it aside, the pretty setter turns himself to face you.

“I see. That’s great advice, [Name].” He says, making you smile and plop the ice cream bar into your mouth. “Happy to help.” You muffled out.

“You’re right. I should reach for it and take it.”

And so, the silverette leans close, lifting his hands and gently cupped your cheeks, faces inches away from each other.

With a whisper, Sugawara leans closer and smiles warmly at you. “I want you.”

“...!?” Your eyes widen completely, cheeks quickly turning pink and slowly red as you stare right into his eyes, his warmth and love never leaving.

You nearly lose grip of your ice cream bar, quickly regaining your conscience and found Sugawara pulling away.

“I’m at step two, but am I allowed to have step three?” Sugawara teases, his own cheeks a soft pink as he smiles at your surprised expression.

You just blush in response and turn away, hiding your face and continued to stuff your mouth with the ice cream bar. “...”

The red hues of your cheeks makes the setter chuckle in slight amusement, moving to gently place his hand in your free one. He was careful, in case you weren’t comfortable, but seeing you weren’t refusing, Sugawara intertwined your fingers together and kept his smile on you.

And the two of you sat there silently, hands together as you finished up your ice cream bar.

Even when you finished, the two of you still sat in silence and stared up at the sky that began to darken.

And despite not receiving an answer, Sugawara wasn’t going to push you for it, knowing he already done enough.

“It’s getting late, I’ll walk you home.”

Gathering both yours and his trash together, he picks it up and jogs to the nearest trash can and tosses it away before heading back.

You stood up, plastic bag in hand and waited for him before beginning to walk side by side in the direction of your home.

For Sugawara, the silence was rather comfortable, he didn’t regret his choices and he expressed how he felt about you, though he’d be lying if he said he wasn’t a little bit upset at not getting a proper answer.

You, however, were uncomfortable in the silence, but you felt too shy to talk, after what happened.

It seems the pretty setter notices, because he spoke up. “You don’t have to give me an answer. We can forget about it you’d like.”

You glance to him to see his expression, but he still wore that same smile and was facing forward, walking leisurely with you.

“I don’t want to force you to do anything you aren’t comfortable with, and if I made you uncomfortable with my actions, I’m deeply sorry for that.” He genuinely means it and it kind of upsets you.

“I thought you said you wouldn’t give up?” You purse your lips and huff at him, no longer feeling shy. Your words surprises him. “H-Huh?-“

“Like I said, whatever you want, you have to reach for it and grab it and you did that! Step three was to never let go and that’s what you did! If you want something and you grab it, you shouldn’t give up until it’s officially yours! Understand!?”

Grabbing his hands and forcing them to cup your cheeks, you stare up at him intensely. “So don’t let go, okay? I’m yours forever! Because...”

Your cheeks warm at your next words and you take a deep breath.

“Because I want you too!”

“!” Sugawara, this time the one who’s flustered, eyes wide and his cheeks dusting pink.

It didn’t take long before he let out a soft laugh, pulling your face close to his and sends a warm, loving grin to you.

“Good. Because I’m never letting you go again.”

A/N : well, what did you think? :>

#tooweirdforyou #haikyuu!! x reader #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu!!#haikyuu #sugawara koshi x reader #sugawara kōshi #sugawara x reader #sugawara koushi x reader #sugawara koushi #hq x reader #hq!! x reader #x reader #hq sugawara #hq writing #haikyuu!! writing

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carinyms · 3 years

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I've scrolled through a lot of discourse on episode 4 of Loki and I need to talk about it

(good lord its a whole essay im sorry)

I gave myself a headache from crying while watching this. (I joined the Loki fandom post-IW so I’ve never had to see him die before while emotionally invested and boy!!! Is it doing things to my fragile psyche!!). But now I’m rehydrated and more stable and ready to party so let’s go

Right off the bat, I loved this episode — loved it loved it loved it. Silly, manic in-shock Loki is gone and shit is getting real. My thought while watching this was truly “wow this is my favorite episode so far” and damn am I in a minority with this opinion lol.

So here’s my perspective on some of the discourse flying around, and just general thoughts

On the whole ‘Narcissist’ thing:

IMO, Mobius saying this means nothing: he’s mad and he’s spouted lies at Loki to push his buttons before (see: every interaction they’ve had since episode 1).

Loki saying this to Sif-- well, Loki is and always has been an unreliable narrator on himself. The major theme of this show is that he doesn’t really know who he is, deep down, and he’s trying to figure it out. The TVA is taking advantage of this, and even though he’s trying to stay above it all throughout the series, he's still in a really impressionable spot and absorbing what others tell him about himself. (not to mention this scene is literal torture and he’s already proven that he’ll say whatever he needs to to get out of it.)

But he does admit one true thing when he says “It’s because I’m scared of being alone.” (And like wow okay same don’t mind my tears) but here’s a big brain idea!

Sif pulls him up and says ‘You are alone, and you always will be’, which is like, WOW that’s cruel after what he said, but it makes me ask wonder: Sif is sentient in this scene, but obviously it’s not really her. Who’s controlling her? And why is it so important for them to make sure Loki thinks he’s alone? I’d go as far as to wager that Sif never even said this to Loki, the big bad made this up. (he admits he forgot about this ever happening, I doubt he’d remember what she said.)

I think the nexus event on Lamentis that caused the branch was two Loki’s joining sides. Or, Loki no longer being alone. Loki insists while talking to Mobius that “she’s not my partner!” but she was, and they were partners from the moment they grabbed hands on Lamentis — right when the timeline broke off. I think Loki variants teaming up is the biggest threat to whoever is pulling the strings here — that’s why the post-credit scene is so significant. (Is Loki the only person who has multiple variants of himself who've escaped the TVA?)

And here’s where I’m gonna get salty--so I apologize but i need to rant about this-- but it’s seriously pissing me off that so many people are intentionally reading this as Loki/Sylvie and then being mad about it when that’s clearly not what’s happening and why is everyone acting like Mobius with one angry jealous brain cell and no critical thinking about the context of the characters.

If people ship it that’s chill, but for the people who are against it—it’s clearly supposed to be platonic, and it’s so upsetting that in the year of our lord 2021 we still can’t have a man and woman hold hands without people saying it’s proof they want to f*ck each other, like what in the misogyny??? STOP. This show was written by a bi woman and Tom the-most-emotionally-sensitive-man-on-this-planet Hiddleston — let them display an intimate loving friendship goddammit. This isn’t romance, this is Loki learning how to admit he cares for someone who cares for him in return — something he hasn’t experienced a whole lot of and clearly doesn’t know how to navigate.

(You have permission to personally come at me if it actually turns out to be romantic by the end of the show—but as of right now I will die on this hill.)

Him putting his hands on her shoulders to me was a clear indication he wanted to hug her, and I’d like to think he would have told her he cares about her, and that they can figure it out together. Because these are two characters who’ve never had anyone else to rely on and trust, and for the first time they’re not alone.

And I have to think about what prompted this from Loki. He just lost Mobius the moment after he called him friend. The way I see it, he’s just realized the true gravity of what they’re up against, and Loki is suddenly very afraid of losing Sylvie too before he tells her cares about her, of dying truly alone because he never told anyone what they meant to him. (Don’t think about this in the context of him also having watched his entire family die knowing he never told Frigga or Thor how much he loved them either don’t think about it—) He’s realized, finally, that he has doesn’t have to be alone, that he can choose to be close to people and have friends. And god it’s so heartbreaking that he never got to hug her or have that moment with her. I really hope they get that in the end. I hope he gets it with Mobius. I hope they have a group hug. I'm upset again.

Okay, deep breath, ANYWAY.

Hopefully this didn’t come off as attacking anyone else’s opinions.

Personally, I love this character so much, I’m just so happy to be seeing him in his own storyline that they can’t go wrong here. Objectively I think the production is amazing, and personally I love they way Loki’s character has been explored so far. (Yea yea, was I HOPING that the bad-memory loop would morph into Sanctuary and Thanos and like a full exploration of his true worst memories? Yes but let’s be honest my whump needs will never be met in canon and I have to accept that lol.)

Honestly I left all my own meta about this character at the door when the series started, because for me the opinions I’ve formed from the hundreds of (amazing) fics and meta I’ve read on this character and what’s true in canon are basically inseparable at this point, and no portrayal is going to live up to the way Loki exists in my head. Canon Loki and fic Loki are two different characters and I can enjoy both at the same time :) I’ve just loved seeing the character get given the different dimensions he deserves, and written by people who care about his story.

Also, it’s not over! If he was dead and this was it I’d be very upset, but this is the rock bottom of the storyline, and I think the whole next two episodes will be the build back up. I trust it’s gonna be worth it. SO hyped for flaming sword Loki. I would die for Sylvie, but I’m excited to see him on his own again.

My current most pressing questions are:

-what was the fallout of Sylvie’s bombing the timeline? (Have we seen that yet, am I just dumb and missing something?)

-Obviously, who’s behind it all? (Kang? Is there a head honcho Very Evil Loki at the top?)

-How much does Ravonna actually know, and to what extent is she just a pawn too? She asked Sylvie to prune her— she’s probably also been duped here.

-Is everything we learned about the sacred timeline BS? How much of what the TVA workers believe is real?

-my favorite theory so far is that the war of the timelines miss minutes talks about hasn’t actually happened yet, maybe making setting that into motion is the true endgame, leading into Multiverse of Madness?

(Side note: holy HELL im so excited for this soundtrack to drop on Spotify. It’s SO AMAZING I had CHILLS in the end credits.)

Open invitation to discuss anything with me if you feel inclined! :)

#if you read all of this please come say hi and be my friend because I don't know if even I'd read all this lol #loki #loki show #loki series #loki show spoilers #loki spoilers #loki series spoilers #loki show discourse #loki show positive #my disaster son has a show

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princip1914 · 3 years

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A few thoughts on writing longfic

I’ve had this post brewing for a while and I figured since today is a Friday I might as well let it out into the wild.

First off, this is not writing advice. I don’t feel qualified to give writing advice. This is a few observations I’ve made over the course of trying to write something that feels, well, long. Fandom is full of excellent authors writing long chaptered fic, but I don’t see a lot of people talking about how they go about producing such fics. I remember feeling like long fic was really out of reach for me when I started writing again in the summer of 2019 after not writing for years and years and I wanted to talk a bit about how that changed for me. Of course, this post comes with all the caveats that there is no need to ever write long fic if you’re not feeling it. Some of my favorite authors write mostly or only oneshots! But, if you are interested, here’s my lengthy, self indulgent, and entirely personal take on ~the longfic process~ below the cut.

First, to get this out of the way: long fic is anything that feels long or complicated to you, the author. “I’m working on my long fic” can mean that you’re branching out from microfiction to write something that’s 2k long, or it can mean you’ve got a multi-part 800k epic. There’s no objective measure of if something is “long fic,” Your own personal definitions can also change as you grow in confidence or change your focus as a writer (a little over a year ago when I finished Doubt Thou the Stars are Fire topping out at 31k, that felt very very long to me. Now it feels….still long, but not very very long.)

Here are a few specific things that helped me write something long. I don’t know if they will be interesting for anyone else, but at the very least writing these down has been a fun way for me to reflect on my own process.

Practice exercises. Ok, this is going to sound exceedingly obvious, but writing one shots prepares you for writing chaptered fic. Here’s what I mean more specifically: if you know you want to write (as a totally hypothetical example) a chaptered fic set in America in the summer that relies heavily on a nature metaphors, is written out of chronological order, and features a melancholy tone--it helps to write a few one shots like that before you embark on the Big Fic. Just like artists tend to do sketches before starting a big piece, it’s very helpful to write something small that gives you a feel for the ~vibe~ of what you’re trying to do in the long fic. It’s helpful for all the usual reasons--you get to know a specific version of the characters which helps plan out a character driven plot for the long fic--but it’s also helpful because you will learn if the tone and mood of the fic has enough staying power to capture your interest for the long haul. For instance, I have a few unfinished chaptered fics that have a humorous tone. I wish I had done more short humorous fics before starting them, because I would have realized that I don’t currently have the mental stamina to hold up a humorous tone for the length of a chaptered fic (hopefully that will change and I will finish Last Days some time this century!).

Plan it out ahead of time. I used google sheets for The False and the Fair. I do not think God intended google sheets to be used for fiction, but that was not going to stop me. On a more serious note, I think the best tool for planning fiction is the one you’re the most comfortable with--the notes app in your phone, handwriting, word, google drive, sheets, chalk board, summoning circle, the blood of your enemies, etc. The reason I chose to use sheets is that I knew from the very beginning that I wanted certain things to happen at specific places in the story--for instance, I wanted the first kiss to happen at the end of the first third of the story and I wanted the “reveal” about the mine accident to happen at the end of the second third of the story. But, I didn’t know what was supposed to go in between those elements. A traditional outline for a story at this point in development might have looked like:

Meet cute

Kiss

Reveal

Ending

But, what my brain needed was to preserve the blank spaces in between these story elements, and specifically to preserve the right amount of blank space between these story elements so that it didn’t end up, for instance, that the first kiss was halfway through rather than a third of the way through. In this way, I found google sheets an invaluable tool for pacing in the early parts of the planning process. I simply made 30 rows assuming 30 chapters, and started plugging in the elements I knew I wanted in the locations I wanted them. Then I filled in the blank spaces by asking myself “how do we get from X plot element to Y plot element in Z amount of chapters.” I’m not a mountain climber, but I’ve often thought about the first things that go into the spreadsheet in terms of mountain climbing terminology. In climbing, a crux move, which can be anywhere along the route, is the most difficult move of the route: if you can’t do it, you can’t do the route. I think of the first things that go into the planning spreadsheet as the crux moves of the story, the most important pieces around which everything else turns. It was not an accident that those were also all the first scenes of the fic that I wrote; if I couldn’t do those scenes, I couldn’t do the story the way I planned it so I wanted to know early on if I needed to make changes.

Make changes if you have to: even though it helps to have things planned in advance, don’t resist the story if it tries to change on you while you’re writing it. Usually the feeling that you have to make changes stems from having a plot that is not entirely character driven. As you write the story, the characters reveal themselves and sometimes the plot has to change to change with the characters’ motivations. Here’s an area where fanfic writers have a leg up on everyone else: if you write fic, you already know the characters really well. That means, (in my experience anyway) it’s less likely that you’ll have a surprise character development which leads to a rethinking of the whole plot. Less likely, but not completely unlikely, unfortunately.

Lie to yourself: The False and the Fair was supposed to be 90k words. I thought that sounded reasonable, a little less than 3x the longest fic I had ever written. Now it's 161k and will probably top out a little over 170k. Ooops. But I never would have set out to write something that long. I wouldn’t have thought I could do it, even though anyone more experienced looking at my plans for the fic probably would have laughed at the idea I could cover all those plot points in 90k. Ignorance is bliss. Protect your ignorance.

Scrivener: Long fic for me means “fic that is long enough you can’t hold all the parts of it in your head at once.” That’s where Scrivener comes in (or another app if you’d rather, but I really like Scrivener for the ability to see the project either linearly or as condensed notecards). You can put together an organizational scaffold in Scrivener that allows you to move back and forth between the forest and the trees. So, for instance, you might be going for a jog and come up with the perfect line of dialogue for chapter 27 when you’re only up to chapter 5 in terms of writing progress. With Scrivener, you can go home, and put that dialogue in the “bucket”/index card/whatever for chapter 27 without compromising your ability to see chapter 5 clearly or muddying up your google doc. You can then use the fact that you’ve started writing bits and pieces of the later chapters in conjunction with the tool of lying to yourself that, actually, you’ve written a lot more of the fic than you realize and that when you get to chapter 27 it won’t be as hard as chapter 5 because you’ve put in the groundwork already. In my experience, this lie turns out to be true about 50% of the time, which is better than 0% of the time.

Digestible mini arcs: The False and the Fair was originally broken up into thirds. I thought it would be 90k and 30k was the longest I had written, so thirds seemed to make sense. Also, 3 is a nice, time honored storytelling number. I think it’s good to give yourself seemingly achievable milestones along the way to completion. These milestones (for me anyway) lined up well with the “crux moments” I’ve described. If you’re someone who likes to write out of order, writing your way to an already written milestone can feel like sailing to an island where you get to rest for a bit from the stormy seas before setting out for the next island in the archipelago.

“It's all part of the process”: I’m categorically incapable of describing things without resorting to running metaphors, and so I apologize in advance, but I am now going to do the insufferable thing of comparing writing a long fic to running a marathon. Here’s the thing with a marathon. You are not going to feel good every step of the way. We all know this. It’s a marathon, it’s supposed to hurt a little bit, especially at the end. In the same way you literally cannot write something novel length or even novella or long short story length without, at least at some point, feeling bad about yourself and your writing. But you also can’t run a marathon if the whole thing is agony, and for most people, it’s not--your meat sack shuffling along the course is subjected to the slings and arrows of all sorts of weird body chemistry that only happens when you push it to its limits. So, you’ll be in agony and then the endorphins will kick in for a while and you’ll be thinking “this isn’t nearly as bad as everyone said,” and then you’ll drink some water at a rest stop and feel like a God for half a mile before you crash and you’re in agony again until that one perfect song comes up on the playlist...and you get the idea. Writing something long, for me at least, is a bit like that. There are massive ups and downs. The key for me is to just understand it’s all part of the process, a necessary step on the way to the finish line. If the fic is 10 chapters long, at some point you have to write chapter 5. Just like you have to write chapter 5, at some point you also have to go through a bit of despair before reaching the end. It is unfortunately non-optional. In fact, despairing is something you can check off your list each time you’ve done it. Cut dialogue tags, check. Feel awful about my writing for thirty minutes, check. Write ending section, check. Often I feel that the stress and shame and fear that come with bad emotions while writing are worse than the bad emotions themselves. It really helps me to remember these emotions are all part of the process and nothing to worry about. If I didn’t have them, then I would worry!

I certainly have plenty more to say about writing, but this ramble has gone on long enough. If you’re interested in any of this stuff, please feel free to send me an ask.

I would also love to know more about everyone else’s writing processes, so feel free to pop into my ask box to talk about your own approach too! I am very interested in this stuff!

#long post #writing #fic #princip's fic #princip writes #princip's musings #longfic #how make words go

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blu-joons · 3 years

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Decorating The Christmas Tree ~ Kim Namjoon

“Where do we even start, it looks like a bomb has gone off in here?”

The two of you stood with your hands on your hips as you took in the chaos that was all around you. After picking up your Christmas tree, you thought the hard job would be over, that was until you went and dug out all of your decorations that you kept hidden away.

Every year the two of you forgot how festive your house became, the stream of boxes that Namjoon carried down the stairs at times seemed to be never-ending. Neither of you had anticipated quite how much would be left for you to do.

“What do you say to just throwing something together and seeing what happens?” Namjoon asked you, clearly allowing his frustration to get the better of him. “Who really cares what it looks like?”

Your head shook, nudging gently into his side, “that’s not the attitude to have at Christmas. Even if nobody sees it, we still have to look at it night after night.”

His eyes rolled, knowing how right you were. He could pretend, but he knew it would wind him up to no end seeing a messy tree on the other side of the room.

The two of you were both reluctant, but you were the first to tear open one of the boxes and pick up the top bauble, placing it through the hooks you kept every year. You placed it in the middle of the tree, letting it hang perfectly with the light through the window bouncing off of it.

“Shall we just call it a day there?” Namjoon continued to tease, earning himself yet another jab from you. “Nothing has gone wrong, what’s the point in risking it?”

“Nothing will go wrong, so long as you’re careful.”

It felt easier said than done with Namjoon, somehow decorating the tree every year ended up with you digging through the emergency box for something. You didn’t quite understand how he managed to get himself in so many messes, but he did.

“Let’s just get the colourful baubles on first, and then we can think a little more,” you suggested, twirling around Namjoon to hang a few more decorations onto the branches.

He hummed in response to you as he filled up the higher branches that you struggled to reach, “doesn’t it feel a bit pointless when we’re going to take it down in a few weeks?”

You glared across at him in surprise, “you really are turning into such a scrooge this year, find a bit of Christmas spirit Namjoon.”

Whilst Namjoon worked a lot slower than you did, it didn’t take long for you to start filling the tree up properly, placing the baubles carefully in position. No one else would be with the two of you this year, but you still wanted to make it perfect.

In fact, a Christmas for the two of you was why nothing could go wrong, it was special for the two of you to just be together and enjoy time together after what had been another rather chaotic year for Namjoon and the boys.

He hated to admit it too, but he also looked forward to Christmas with you and being able to escape a bit of what was going on in his crazily busy world.

“Do you want to put some of the funny baubles on?” Namjoon asked as you cleared the main box, tearing open the lid to peer in.

You couldn’t help but chuckle as you looked in too, the whole box was filled with tat you’d collected throughout the years. Usually, you had to put them up to make sure that you pleased your family, but that was no responsibility of yours this year.

“I’d rather throw them in the bin then put them on the tree,” you noted, exchanging a glance as a hint of a smile finally appeared on Namjoon’s face.

Before you could add anything else, he pushed the box across the room making sure that it was out of the way. He grabbed the next box, pulling out several strands of knotted tinsel.

“And this is why I said we should’ve put new,” he remarked as he held it up for you to see, throwing it down to the floor as he looked at all the intricate knots it made.

You sat yourself down beside him and grabbed one end of the tinsel, as he did the same. Between the two of you it didn’t take too long to break it all apart, carefully placing each strand around the room so it couldn’t knot itself again.

“We just need to place it around the tree now,” you smiled, noting Namjoon’s lack of enthusiasm.

“Why didn’t we just call one of those companies that come and do decorations for you?” He questioned, but still took a large strand of gold tinsel to wrap around the top branches.

Your eyes rolled as he stretched up on his tiptoes, “because I enjoy decorating the tree with you, it’s all about making memories.”

His body froze as you spoke as he paid close attention to the smile on your face. As much of a scrooge as he may have been, he could see how happy you were causing absolute carnage with him.

“I never thought of it like that,” he commented as he began to enthusiastically stretch more tinsel around the tree, “perhaps that is what this whole Christmas is about just with you.”

Initially, he was disappointed to not be able to be with his family, but the more he thought about it, the more exciting the prospect seemed. To be able to spend the day just with you, doing what the two of you enjoyed, felt like a dream.

“Making memories?” You asked as his head nodded, “that’s something that we always do, not just at Christmas.”

“But doing it at Christmas makes it much more special,” he laughed, walking around you whilst pressing a kiss to the top of your head. “It makes me feel like I’m a kid again.”

You smiled softly in his direction as the tree soon became filled with all the decorations the two of you had pulled out. It might not have been perfect to most, but as Namjoon said, it was the memory the two of you had crafted.

“It looks cute,” you giggled, taking a step back as Namjoon’s arm wrapped around your waist.

“I actually bought a little something else to put on it,” he noted, digging through one of the boxes to pull out a box of candy canes that he’d purchased. “And these aren’t to be eaten, they are purely for decoration on the tree.”

“That’s horrible, you know I love a candy cane.”

His shoulders shrugged innocently as he counted exactly how many there were before scattering them around the tree. You pouted as he placed them around, knowing now you had no chance of sneaking a few.

Once they were all on, Namjoon stood back proudly and took it all in. The tree really did take up most of your house, but the adventuring the day had bought had certainly ended up being well worth the effort.

“Now, it looks perfect.”

Your head nodded in agreement as you laid against his shoulder, it was exactly how the two of you had designed, which made it perfect in your eyes.

“I’m excited for Christmas to just be the two of us this year,” he whispered down to you, resting his puckered lips into your hairline, “are you?”

“Of course, although I’m happy just to be with you.”

“I know I’ve been away for most of the year, but hopefully now we can make the most of our time together,” he continued to speak, as always, letting his guilt get the better of him.

You smiled up at him, resting your hand against his chest. “You always do this, stop being sorry, I knew what I was getting myself into when I dated you.”

“Did you really?”

You nodded, moving your hand to his cheek, “just having you home for Christmas is enough for me, to be able to do things together. It never bothers me if you’re away for the rest of the year.”

He smiled, paying close attention to the things you said, “I’d never miss a Christmas with you.”

For all the days, weeks, and months he spent away from you, there was nowhere else he would ever allow himself to be in the world then beside you for the holidays. There was no other time more important for him to be with the ones he loved, and that most importantly, meant making sure that he was with you.

“I think it’ll be the best Christmas I’ve ever had,” Namjoon spoke down to you, squeezing you tighter into his side.

“I hope so too, we get to do whatever we want,” you laughed.

“No one to stop me from opening a present at midnight.”

“Exactly, we get to do, whatever we want to do, whenever we want to do it. “

---

Masterlist

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keanureevesisbae · 4 years

Text

The alluring charm of Henry Cavill - Chapter 7

Summary: It’s time for the final challenge of the Celebrity Project.

Henry Cavill x Adelaide Park (ofc)

Wordcount: 3.9k

Warnings: None

Masterlist // Previous chapter // Next chapter

Our final challenge is going on a survival for three days. I feel like that is something we can actually do, though I’m not entirely sure what I’m doing is right. When the first night falls, I made a fire and even suggested to Henry that we could try and catch a fish tomorrow. ‘You know how to fish?’ he asked me.

Little did he know that I have tons of tricks up my sleeve. ‘Of course,’ I told him, though I think he didn’t believe me and I can’t really blame him for that.

Weirdly enough, we fell into our trusted routines again right away. It made me realize that it doesn’t matter where we are, we can work together just fine wherever we are and we are able to make every place a home.

While he sets up the tent, I warm up in front of the fire, watching him from a distance. During the night, I curl up beside him, my limbs as cold as ice. Before I really fell asleep, I would push up his shirt and place my hand on his bare stomach, my fingers toying with the little hairs. I normally wouldn’t do this, would not be this bold and forward, but with Henry, it all feels so familiar, so safe. Like I can actually do this without being judged.

The first morning we spend together, I made us breakfast, while he folded the tent back into the small bag. It’s nice being with him out in the open like this. Him being surrounded by nature, makes him look so handsome, so normal and approachable.

We run through the woods, we have to do ridiculous things again, that involves trusting one another, yet again eat disgusting things, but I don’t even think about winning that prize. Now, that was never my initial goal to win the prize, but I never thought that I would gain another close friend, someone who is definitely more than that. I like being around Henry, being able to hold his hand when I’m blindfolded. I trust him so much, here and back at our cottage and I know that even outside of the Celebrity Project, I’m going to trust him with my life.

It’s weird being around someone like him. Being around someone that brings out this side of me. Around my parents I’m myself, but I’m the self who I taught me to be. My parents didn’t need a smart ass on top of their worries. My parents needed someone responsible, that would help them out and just do what she is expected to do, though it’s not ideal.

Hiding my feelings became my normal and despite earning a ton of money and not having to worry about anything anymore in life, that normal never changed. I never opened up, I never was myself and I hid everything about myself.

But now I have met this amazing human being, told him about my true self and I know he is going to stay. It’s quite relieving though, not having to bottle up my emotions.

However, after all we were able to handle during this camping trip this far, Henry is now crouched down in front of me, as tears fill my eyes. ‘Does this hurt?’ he asks, after carefully removing my shoe and trying to move my foot, to see what movement is possible and what not.

It feels like he is stabbing a knife through my ankle. ‘Stop, that hurts,’ I whine. As the big fat idiot I am, I misstepped and with the way it swells, I feel like I bruised my ankle pretty bad, especially since it’s swelling already.

‘Stay here,’ Henry says, rummaging through his bag. He hands me a painkiller with a bottle of water, before pulling out a shirt. ‘I’ll be right back.’

‘Where are you going?’ I ask. ‘You promised me that you stay here with me.’

He smiles, before placing his hand on the side of my thigh. ‘I’m just going to the river, so I can improvise an icepack with this shirt, Addy. I’ll be right back.’ He can’t help but chuckle. ‘You can be a big baby, you know that?’

I pout. ‘I know, I’m sorry.’

‘Don’t be, I actually think it’s quite adorable. I’ll be right back.’ His large hand squeezes my upper leg, before he stands up and walks to the little lake, to drench his shirt. I swallow down the painkiller and I pull up my better leg, before I place my head on my knee. I let out a sniffle.

He sits down with me again, carefully taking off my sock and placing the cold wet shirt on my ankle, causing me to shiver. ‘I’m sorry,’ I whisper again.

Henry simply shakes his head, placing a hand on my calf, soothing me a bit. ‘No need to, Addy. Please, don’t feel sorry.’

‘Then what should I do?’

‘Stop crying when there is absolutely no need to,’ he smiles, laying a hand on my cheek, wiping away my tears. ‘Sweet Addy, listen to me. I don’t care about winning. I only care about you and your wellbeing. And right now, I’m going to take care of your ankle and hopefully in twenty minutes you can smile again.’

He grabs the first aid kit out of his backpack and bandages my ankle. When it’s done, he helps me to put on my sock and shoe again. Henry pulls me up, but I can’t seem to distribute my body weight onto both of my feet.

‘Come here,’ Henry says, pulling me into a hug. I place my chin on his chest and smile. I feel so safe, how does he manages to make me feel like this? ‘You hop on my back,’ he says with a smile. ‘So we can continue.’

‘We’re adults,’ I say frowning.

‘I am fully aware of that,’ he chuckles, ‘but that doesn’t mean that you can’t hop on my back.’

I roll my eyes, but I jump on his back anyways. Wrapping my arms and legs around him, I lean with my head against his. He continues to walk, trying to find a spot where we can sleep for the night. I push my nose against his cheek, feeling his five ‘o clock shadow against my skin. ‘Thank you.’

‘You don’t have to thank me every single time I do something for you,’ he says. ‘I like doing things for you.’ He looks to the side and smiles. ‘I like you.’

‘I like you too, Henry Cavill.’

When we finally found a spot, he sets up the tent again, while I have a thicker branch, strapping a knife on it with some rope. I hop around the water, looking right into it. Henry walks over to me and asks: ‘You think that works?’

‘Of course I think that works,’ I say to him.

He sits on a rock, leaning his elbows on his knees, a smug grin on his face. ‘Sorry to break your bubble, Addy, but I don’t think it’s going to work.’

I bite my lip, as I stare into the water again, before sticking the brach and the knife right into it. I hold it up and turn around. ‘Henry, look, look!’ I exclaim.

‘That actually worked?’ he asks, totally flabbergasted.

‘Of course that worked.’ I cock an eyebrow, before I pout. ‘Why did you underestimate me?’

Henry starts to stammer. ‘I… No… I didn’t… Sorry… But… Why are you laughing?’

‘I understand,’ I chuckle. ‘When I was younger, my dad could actually catch a fish with his bare hands. I could never, but we also couldn’t afford a rod. So I did this instead.’

He stands up and holds out his hand. ‘Come on, let’s get dinner started. You know how to prepare a fish?’

‘I do,’ I say, as I limp back to the tent. Henry starts the fire, as I remove its organs and clean the fish with water. When I look up, I see he hasn’t done anything. ‘Henry William Dalgliesh Cavill, you are useless.’ I wipe my hands clean.

‘I am useless?’ he repeats.

‘Don’t act surprised. You haven’t even started the fire, you stupid idiot.’

‘You call me a stupid idiot?’ He walks over to me and why do I feel like that can’t mean any good? I crawl back a little, a mischievous smile on my face. ‘I can’t believe,’ he says, crouching down in front of me, ‘that you called me a stupid idiot.’

‘Henry, what are you doing?’ I ask, leaning back on my hands.

He licks his lips, before he leans over to grab my wrists, causing me to fall back. I let out a squeal, almost thinking that I’m going to fall flat on the back of my head. However, he is always faster and I should’ve known that he would take good care of me. He places his hand on the back of my head, softly guiding me into the grass.

‘Henry,’ I whisper, as he leans on his underarm right next to me, almost as a warning for him not to do something he is going to regret. There are camera’s everywhere.

He places his hand in my waist, after he nodded at me and starts to tickle me.

‘No, Henry,’ I scream, ‘stop it now.’

‘What did you call me?’ he chuckles. ‘I think you called me a stupid idiot. Not just stupid, not just an idiot, but a stupid idiot.’

I try to wiggle out of his grasp, but obviously I fail miserable. ‘You are a stupid idiot,’ I say, tears running over my cheeks from laughing this hard. ‘Stop!’

‘Only if you take it back.’

I try to push his hand away, but yet again, I’m not strong enough. ‘Okay, okay, you are not an idiot.’

Henry halts his tickles, but he is still holding his hand where it was. ‘Then what am I?’ he cockily asks.

I smile, place my hand on his cheek and whisper: ‘You are amazing, Henry. I’m so lucky that you are my partner. I wouldn’t have wanted any other way.’

‘That’s quite romantic, miss Park,’ he chuckles. ‘But you smell like fish and I can’t focus on your lovely words anymore.’

‘Shut up.’ I push my hands in his face and after I use all of my body, he tumbles back, but pulls me with him. ‘You should be thankful that I know exactly how to prepare fish. Otherwise you would be starving.’

He places his hand on the small of my back and says: ‘Go wash your hands, so we can eat.’

◎ ◎ ◎

I have this nightmare a few times every year, where my mom doesn’t survive her car accident and there is nothing I can do to help her. I’m glued to the pavement, unable to catch my mom as she rolls over the car and drops to the ground. I gasp for air when I wake up the next morning, rubbing my eyes. I’m still underneath the sleeping bag, securely pressed against his warm body. I place my chin on his chest, looking at his beautiful face. He is still asleep and it’s actually one of the first and only times I see him sleeping. He is always awake when I wake up. I push my hand underneath his shirt, as I prop up on my elbow. My hand raises up from his happy trail to his chest, placing it on his heart.

The one thing that I like about this tent, is that there are no camera’s. No eyes that watch me. That watch us. I lean in to give him a kiss on his cheek, only for him to turn his face and kiss me right back.

‘You were awake?’

Henry nods. ‘I was, from the second you woke up. You okay, Addy? It seemed like you woke up a bit abrupt.’

‘Just a bit of a nightmare,’ I confess. ‘I have it from time to time. It’s no big deal.’

‘Are you sure?’ he asks.

‘I am.’

He pushes back a strand of hair, letting his thumb linger on my cheek. Henry smiles and I blush. ‘You’re so beautiful,’ he whispers.

‘I look like shit.’

‘Shut up,’ he says. ‘You are beautiful. I like your puffy face in the morning, I like it when you’re hair is all over the place. I like your morning breath.’ He pulls me closer to him and gives me a kiss. ‘Waking up to you is the best thing that has happened to me in a long time.’

‘Shut up.’

He sits up straight and pulls me with him, even grabbing my leg to pull me on his lap. I shiver when the sleeping bag isn’t covering my shoulders anymore and he pulls it up to keep me warm. ‘You think the camera guys are still asleep?’ I ask him.

‘I think so,’ he says. ‘I can’t wait for this to be over. No camera’s, just you and me. Do you have to go to Switzerland right away?’

I shake my head. ‘I was planning on going to LA for a few months, while the movie preparations are getting finalized. Why?’

‘Just wondered if we could spend more time together.’

‘Of course,’ I quickly say, slipping my hands underneath his shirt again. ‘I would love to.’

Henry smiles, bumping his nose against mine.

‘But I was planning on visiting my parents,’ I say. ‘You could come with me if you want, but I get that you think it’s a bit too soon. You know, I don’t actually know about it.’

‘What are your hesitations?’

I sigh deeply. ‘It’s just that I’m a bit scared. My parents were my only friends growing up, the only ones I can count on. It’s not that I’m embarrassed of you, it’s that I’m not used to bringing people home with me. I don’t know if it’s too soon and maybe you think it’s too soon. I mean, I totally get if you’re not ready and—’

‘Okay, wait a minute,’ he says. ‘I’m ready, but only if you are. I would love to see where you grew up, who you grew up with and your relationship with your parents. I want to get to know you even better, at your pace.’

I shake my head, as a chuckle of disbelieve leaves my lips. ‘You are too good to be true, did you know that?’

‘I’m not,’ he whispers, placing a kiss on my lips. ‘What’s with the frown, Addy?’ he asks me, once he looks in my eyes again. ‘Are you okay?’

‘I’m good, I’m good,’ I say. ‘It’s just that I’m infatuated by you, Henry Cavill and it’s scaring me.’

He looks genuinely confused. ‘Why is it scaring you?’ His voice is so soft, so vulnerable.

‘I have never been in love before,’ I say. ‘Have you?’

He nods. ‘I have.’

‘What is that like?’

‘Scary,’ he admits, ‘because you do things that you never expected you would do. You opened up, I showed the entire world that I’m a big softie. And that can be scary, but what I always remember, is that it’s all worth it, because you and I are in this together and in it for the long run.’

‘How romantic,’ I chuckle. ‘It helps to know that you are scared as well.’ I lean in to give him a quick kiss, before I tell him that we should get ready.

The two of us get ready, but I can’t help but to look over my shoulder every now and then. When I first starred on Remembering High School, I had a crush on Jeff, the guy who played Tom, my love interest. However I never pursued any further. I was scared and back then I let fear stop me. Now I’m scared too, but I’m not letting it stop me.

At least I’m trying not to let it stop me. I shouldn’t be thinking about all the possible things that could go wrong, because it is not going to go wrong, right? I clench my jaw when I look at him again.

‘Everything okay?’ he asks me.

‘Just my foot,’ I lie. I sit up straight and smile.

‘You hop on my back in a second,’ he tells me.

Once I’m securely seated on his back, I wrap my arms around his neck.

‘Maybe, Addy, he says, ‘you persuaded me into thinking about auditioning as your love interest.’

‘Really?’ I ask him. ‘Why?’

‘So I don’t have to be away from you again. I don’t ever want to stay away from you and filming with you means being with you.’

I don’t mean to do it, but I simply press a kiss on his cheek. ‘I would love that too.’

We have one challenge and that is to reach the top of the hill, answering questions along the way, hoping that gives us the right clue. I moved from his back, to his neck, sitting on his shoulders as if I’m a child. I run my fingers through his soft curls, leaning forward every now and then, to send him a smile. ‘I like you,’ I say, when he takes a right on the hill again.

‘I like you a lot too, my sweetheart.’ He says it so carelessly, but little does he know that it goes straight to my heart. I never had someone outside my parents who called me nicknames, to show me that they cared about me. Sure, Angela Bassett called me ‘darling’ every now and then and Keanu Reeves called me ‘cheeky cheeks’, but this… This is so sweet…

‘My sweetheart?’ I ask him. ‘How about you are my prince?’

‘Then you should be my queen.’

I can’t help but laugh. ‘But if I am your queen, then you should be my king. Otherwise it’s not fair.’

‘Your king.’ Henry smiles. He turns his head and kisses the inside of my leg. ‘I like the sound of that.’

I’m nearly vomiting, because that kiss sends tingles down my entire body.

‘I think we’re there,’ he says, snapping me out of my thoughts.

The rest of the duos are already there and we have the marvelous task to go down on the zipline, while answering stupid questions. I step back, first one step, then two and all of the sudden I’m a meter or two behind the rest. Is this program desperately trying to make me shit my pants? Was swimming not enough? Was almost being killed in the haunted house not enough?

‘Come here,’ Henry says, holding my hand, preventing me from going any further away. ‘You’ll do fine.’

‘I might be scared of the dark, I might faint when I have to swim, but heights really is my top one fear.’

‘You’ll do fine. How about I go first? It’s only five minutes.’

‘Five minutes?’ I ask, panic gushing through every vessel. ‘Five minutes is two and a half songs, Henry. That’s too much.’

He smiles. Not like he is laughing at me, but more like he is trying to reassure me. ‘I know it is. Promise me, you can watch through the monitor and you’ll be fine.’

Those five minutes were the most straining of my life, even to watch. I put in my in ear and hear Henry’s voice the first thing. ‘You gonna be okay, Addy. It was not that scary.’

‘Yeah, yeah,’ I say, as the man is strapping me in. ‘Is this safe?’ I ask him.

‘Bella, bella,’ the man chuckles, ‘it is safe, promise. Beside, you my favorite actress, I wouldn’t let you die.’

‘Is that supposed to calm me down?’ I ask him, because it is not working. My hands start to shake even more.

‘You are treasure to everyone in Italy,’ he continues. ‘I love your movies, all my friends love your movies.’

I smile. ‘I’m scared,’ I admit.

‘I know, but your man also did it and you seem much tougher than him.’

I place my hand in front of my lips, but I burst out in laughter. ‘I am tougher than my man.’

‘You know I can hear you two?’ Henry says in my ear. ‘But he is right, you are the toughest.’

I get ready and my hands shake as I’m on my stomach in the harness. ‘Are you girls okay?’ Jennifer asks both me and Hailey.

‘Yes ma’am,’ Hailey says.

‘I think I am,’ I answer.

‘Remember,’ we all hear in our in ears. ‘Just a few questions.’

My whistle tone like scream leaves my lips when I’m dropped into the air in my harness. My eyes are closed, when I hear in the question: ‘Okay ladies, ready for the first question?’

‘No!’ I scream, at the same moment as Jennifer and Hailey scream an excited yes.

‘Question one: Which movie did Steven Spielberg win his first Oscar for Best Director?’

‘Schindler’s List,’ I mumble, but it’s loud enough for the others to hear it.

‘That is correct! Question two: What is the capitol of Belarus?’

‘Minsk!’ I scream. ‘Is it over yet?’

I hear Jennifer laugh. ‘Open your eyes, honey,’ she tells me.

‘No, I don’t want to see it.’

Henry chuckles in my in ear. ‘You’re doing great, Addy.’

There is a little bump in the zip line and I think I’m screaming my lungs out. I kind of black out, only being able to answer two more questions, while adrenaline junkies Hailey and Jennifer continue to answer questions and enjoy the few. I know we lost, but all I care about now is not dying.

We come to a pretty abrupt stop and I hear some voices, however I’m not ready to open my eyes. What if I’m still high up there? What if there is something wrong with my zip line? Oh no, I’m gonna die!

‘You can open your eyes again, Addy,’ I hear Henry say and I carefully open one of my eyes. I see it’s him and he smiles at me. ‘You did great.’

‘I’m not dead?’ I ask him, looking around me.

‘You’re not dead, as if I would allow that.’ He helps me out of the harness and I cling onto him like a monkey, hugging him tightly.

‘I’m so sorry I didn’t do great. I know for a fact that we didn’t win. I’m so sorry.’

‘Don’t apologize,’ he says. ‘Besides, you answered four questions. If someone was not doing great, it was me, being distracting by nature.’

I look in his eyes. His face is close, his hot breath against my lips… I shouldn’t do it, I think to myself. I shouldn’t kiss him.

However, when I see him biting his bottom lip, looking more handsome than ever. I can barely contain myself.

I place my hands on his cheeks, my thumbs softly touching his lips.

‘What are you thinking, Addy?’ he asks me with a smile.

I sigh deeply. What does it matter if the world knows that we are in love? Because we are right? We are in love… We had near kiss experiences during this survival trip, he kissed my leg, I kissed his cheek. I lean in, pressing my lips against his, before we open our mouths simultaneously.

Henry wraps his arms even tighter around me, as he deepens the kiss.

‘I am so sorry, Henry,’ I whisper against his hot lips, as mine are on fire.

‘No, don’t you ever be sorry about kissing me.’ He smiles, squeezing my leg. ‘Now come back here, kiss me again.’

◎ ◎ ◎

#henry cavill #henry cavill x ofc #henry cavill x oc #henry cavill x asian ofc #henry cavill fanfic #henry cavill fandom #henry cavill x adelaide park #adelaide park #asian ofc #the alluring charm of henry cavill

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hains-mae · 4 years

Text

Flowers

(Damian x Reader) Soulmate AU

Rating: T

Ages: Damian and you are 16, everyone’s ages follow after.

Summary: Soulmate AU where the wounds on your soulmate turns into a flower tattoo on your skin, if it heals with no scars the tattoo goes away, if it heals with a scar then the tattoo stays. You are just an ordinary girl, with an ordinary life, so one might think it only makes sense that your soulmate is just as ordinary as you. But that isn’t the case. Especially not when your body is constantly littered with flowers. Some of them fade over time, some stay, but one thing is for certain – your soulmate seems to get hurt. A lot.

Notes: Hey there you guys. Recently I’ve been caught up in a Batman fever, and I can’t do anything about it. I ended up creating a challenge for my friend @mrevaunit42 which was an “Character x Reader” Soulmate AU. Seriously, it was all in the name of fun.

And then I got caught up in it, perhaps a little too much – and created this. I’ve never written a soulmate au before, though I really wanted to. (Now I have! Yay~) So please forgive my writing since I’m a little rusty, and I hope you enjoy.

Stay safe everyone.

Disclaimer: I do not own DC. If I did, I wouldn’t make it as confusing as it is now.

I woke up to a burning sensation on my lower ribs in the middle of night. Hissing in pain I slowly pushed my feet out of the warm covers and turned on the lamp beside my bed. Pulling up my shirt I assessed the damage.

It was purple lilacs this time, stretched across the middle of my torso going horizontally to my side. I winced as the tattoo completed itself and just as the heat came, a cold chill ran through it and down my spine. Somehow it soothed the burn.

God, another one? I frowned at the beautiful flower and sighed. It worried me that my soulmate was prone to getting hurt. Sometimes the injuries made sense, like when I found them on my knees, I could easily chalk it up to falling and scraping – but injuries like these were more difficult to decipher.

How does someone normal get hurt this way?

They don’t.

“Unless they’re a criminal.” One of my friends stated dryly days ago.

“Or a hero!” Another said quickly.

Needless to say, I wasn’t in a rush to find out. Whoever this person was, I knew from the start that they were trouble.

The next time I woke, it was to the early morning rays that escaped my curtains and played a fiery dance on my eye lids. I groaned and pulled the covers up wishing I could sleep in for a couple more minutes, but I knew I couldn’t.

A few weeks ago my school, Gotham Academy, announced that they were holding their annual science fair at a convention centre as opposed to the regular school gymnasium, because surprisingly enough, Wayne Enterprise offered to fund the event.

It was no secret that Gotham’s economy was hitting below the desired margin. Many people don’t have jobs which resulted in an influx of crime in the past years. And so Wayne Enterprise collaborated with Gotham’s Department of Homeland Security (DHS) to raise awareness and encourage young minds to strive for a better, innovative future. They shouldered the expenses needed and created an international affair, to top it off; Wayne Ent. also offered scholarships to future college goers and internships in all their branches.

Which was why I couldn’t sleep in today. I had project to work on. In line with our team of sponsors, I decided to invent a weapon that could help the GPD when catching criminals. A gun that projects thin plastic case marbles filled with a chemical concoction that erupts into a quick hardening foam upon impact. The foam itself is not toxic, but it works with catching and detaining. It turns as hard as stone but there was another type of compound that I was in the process of creating to counter act it as a measure of safety.

I got up and started my day.

“Good morning sweetheart.” My mom greeted as I entered the kitchen. She smiled warmly at me as she placed a plate of eggs and bacon on the table.

I couldn’t help but return the gesture, walking up to her and placing a kiss on her cheek. “Morning Mom, are you working tonight?”

“I have to, but don’t worry I’ll be leaving something in the fridge for dinner.”

I thanked her and took my plate into the living room. Turning on the T.V., I easily found the news channel and watched the latest reports on Gotham’s activities.

Mom sometimes had to work on weekends just to make ends meet, which was one reason why I was so hard to get that scholarship and hopefully the internship as well. The other reason was…

A family picture caught my eye in the middle of the news and I bit back a sigh. My dad, my mom, and me. We all were smiling at the camera.

Dad was part of the Police force and died during a heist. Reports stated he was running after the criminals and got shot before he could capture them. That was another reason I chose this as my project. Dad always wanted to fight for justice, hopefully this invention could help.

I finished up my breakfast and helped my mom with chores before I slipped into science mode and continued tinkering with the project. The projectiles were complete and I was able to make 3 in total, which I stored in a small box encased with extra padding.

It was around evening after my mom left that I got another burn. I dropped the screwdriver I was holding and bit my lip. Gasping for breath I pulled my sleeve and watched another flower blossom on my forearm.

The pain was gone in an instant and the cold tickled the skin that was branded. I sighed and slowly straightened my poster. This person, after all these injuries, they better not die before I meet them. I grumbled to myself when I realised I was short on supplies. Poor planning on my part.

I grabbed my bag and locked the front door before I headed out to the nearest hardware store, careful to keep my marks hidden from view. I’ve lived in Gotham my whole life, and I knew that standing out, even in the smallest way, would lead into trouble.

The walk to the store was short and uneventful, thankfully. There were only a few customers. I manoeuvred my way between the isles and picked up what I needed. After paying at the counter I hauled my goods and ducked back into the streets. I almost wished I didn’t stop when I heard that woman cry out for help. I was unarmed, unprepared, and every cell in my body screamed at me to walk – no – run away from the scene that was unfolding before my eyes.

But she was helpless. Clad in a trench coat and rain boots, she didn’t look like much but her bag was definitely designer. The thieves in question had a knife pointed at her face. There were 6 of them. All were towering and bulky next to her petite frame. Their menacing stares struck a cold shiver in me and my hand involuntarily clutched the projectiles I was working on in my pocket. I had a feeling it would be safer with me than it would be at home, however this was not how I imagined I’d first be using them.

The woman screamed again and I clenched my palm.

I sucked in some air and got ready to shout at the perpetrators – until I felt the wind rush past my ear.

In a flash someone had swooped into the scene and kicked the man holding the knife to the ground. The sound of blades being drawn stole my attention. It was Robin. He took a stance between the woman and the men.

“Run. Now.” He told the lady.

She whimpered and scrambled up to her feet dashing towards me, towards the entrance of the alley. She zipped past and didn’t stop running till she turned the corner. I should be running too. But my eyes were fixed on the fight that was about to happen.

Robin seemed no older than me. In reality there was no way he could win against 6 huge men. But then again, this was Robin. No normal teenager.

“6 against 1.” He mused, the grip on his katana tightened. “That hardly seems fair.”

The one who held the knife, possibly the leader of the gang, growled thickly. “Get‘im boys.”

They all rushed towards him at the same time, hands in the air and weapons ready. Robin whipped his blade and easily knocked two knives down, the remaining used their strength and threw punches that looked like it would strike anyone straight to next week. The masked boy effortlessly dodged all their hits. Crouching, jumping, twisting, exactly when needed and not a second too late. His movements were precise; a quick jab below the rib striking the kidney with the handle of the sword, a sharp slam of his elbow to the chin, and to close the deal with a blunt blow force to the side of the neck. The goon fell like a tree that’s been cut down.

I gaped in awe.

The others rushed to avenge their fallen comrade, but Robin was quicker and used his blade to disable them. He kicked one of them into the brick wall, a sickening crunch echoed as the goons’ head smashed into it, then a howl of pain when Robin sliced his back. I cringed at the sight of the blood. It was a superficial wound, at least from my vantage point. The cut was deep enough to hurt and draw red, but not enough to kill.

The next lunged himself and grabbed Robin’s wrist, the boy growled and kicked him the face, forcing to free himself. He couldn’t see the other one running towards them from behind, the weapon aiming straight for Robin’s back.

“Robin!” I found my voice and screamed. “Behind you!”

He did a roundhouse kick and slammed the head of the one holding his wrist, then using the momentum back flipped and kicked the one who was behind.

I sighed in relief.

“What are you doing just standing there?!” He shouted at me as he readied himself again. “I said run!”

That got all the men’s attention. The ones that fell got back up and huffed angrily.

“Get the girl!” The leader shouted. “We can use her.” His leer sent bile rushing up my throat.

I squeaked as 3 of them started to chase me. Finally my legs listened and I dashed across the street onto the other pavement.

They were too fast though, their thundering footsteps grew closer towards me. My lungs burned as I tried to inhale some much needed oxygen, physical sports like running really weren’t my thing. I nearly tripped on an uneven tile as a scream rippled out of my throat. I braced myself for impact but it never came. Instead I felt a rush of wind across my face and a lightness below me. The ground was getting further and further away.

I realised I was being carried. Looking up, I was face to face with Red Robin.

“God thing I saw you when I did or you’d be dead meat.” He said dryly as we landed on a roof.

“Th-thank you.” I breathed, trying to gulp in as much needed air as I could. “Robin – he –“ But I didn’t know how to articulate. The adrenaline rush was messing with my head, and I could barely think straight.

Yet Red Robin nodded, understanding. He jumped off the roof and shot his grappling hook. I peered down and saw the fight started to move, from the alley to the side walk. The goons cornered Robin into a store front and were relentless as they threw punch after punch. The other 3 that were chasing me were already fighting Red just below the building that he deposited me on.

I watched in horror as the glass shattered everywhere around them. They weren’t just normal gangs I discerned, they knew how to fight. And unlike the birds and bat, they didn’t mind taking a life.

Clutching the projectiles again in my pocket, I brought them up with trembling hands.

“I hope this works.” I whispered to myself and pulled out my elastic hair tie.

Hooking one of the orbs onto the elastic, I aimed for the goons attacking Robin, and pulled as far as the band could go. Willing my hand to stop shaking, I said a silent prayer and released my hold.

Time seemed to go into slow motion as it flew across the air. I held my breath.

It hit the ground between two goons and burst into a big foamy cloud of vibrant cobalt, instantly seizing the men and solidified their prison as the concoction cooled.

Both fights stopped for a split second, as they watched the chemical reaction, which now looking back was a mistake on all parties.

I gasped and thanked whoever was listening.

The leader roared and pulled a pistol. I felt my throat tighten as the gun set a bullet free.

Robin and I cried out in pain as the bullet dug into him. Tears threatened to roll down my cheek as I clutched my burning shoulder.

A birdarang zipped towards the leader, catching his wrist and making him let go of the weapon. With a grunt, Robin kicked him hard across the chest stealing the perpetrators breath and with a quick turn, smashed his foot onto the mans jaw, cracking it before letting him fall with a loud thud.

The fight continued and Robin easily subdued his last opponent. Then he ran across the street to finish up with Red. Both of them moved in fluid motions like well trained dancers as they fought while protecting each others weak spots. They took down the last 3 goons and tied them up just as the police sirens blared within the distance.

I jumped up from my spot and turned to run but stopped when I saw the two Robins in my path.

“You.” The younger one started. “You were the one who shot the…”

I nodded wordlessly, still feeling the adrenaline coursing through my body. A nasty red splotch caught my attention and I believe they both noticed as I glanced at it. My own hand went up and clutched my shoulder unconsciously, a cold sensation rippled through where the bullet was.

“Oh my god.”

---

to be continued...

Part 2, 3, 4, 5 (end)

#Damian Wayne x Reader #Damian x Reader #Soulmate AU #fanfiction #my fanfiction #challenge #DC #Batman #Robin #Red Robin #my fan fiction

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arotechno · 4 years

Text

The Heartless: Chapter 1

Read on Inkitt

(A/N: HOOOO boy here we go, after five years of staring down the barrel of this thing it’s finally done! Important question: does it matter to y’all if I don’t post the text of the chapter directly below the cut in the future and just link to Inkitt? I ask because formatting for tumblr was beyond annoying and I’m not looking forward to doing it for like 20 more chapters. But if it’s necessary for accessibility reasons, I’m willing to do it.)

Chapter I: in which the story begins

When the winter first melted into spring, Basil and I crept to the edge of the woods behind our houses to pick wildflowers in the meadow. It was still too early for raspberries; in the summer, we’d fill our baskets and our stomachs with them until our mouths were stained red with juices. Our mothers would bake pies in the afternoon and we’d eat them in the evening, cleaning every last scrap from our supper plates with the promise of a sweet dessert. Now, the earth was still cool beneath our bare feet, our toes wiggling in the soft dirt. Once we’d filled our fists with flowers, we settled in the tall grass and began weaving together goldenrod, daisies, and violets into flower crowns and daisy chains.

Basil presented his work and beamed at me, shielding his eyes from the afternoon sun with the back of his hand. “Take it, I want you to wear it,” he urged, thrusting the flower crown into my lap.

“But you worked so hard on it,” I replied.

He shrugged and brushed the dirt from his tanned knees. “I want you to have it,” he insisted, reaching forward and taking the crown from my lap to place it gently on my head.

I stared down at my own work in my hands; it was not nearly as beautiful as the one Basil had made. Some of the stems had split, and many of the flowers had lost some of their leaves and petals. I didn’t have the same steady hands that he did.

“In that case, I want you to have mine, too,” I decided, pressing the crown onto Basil’s head as a couple more leaves fluttered to the ground.

Basil grinned a mile wide, practically radiating sunshine with every inch of his being. “Now we match,” he beamed.

A peaceful silence fell over the meadow. Behind us, the trees rustled in the woods. Insects hovered in the grass, hopping from flower to flower; Basil jumped when a bee buzzed past his face to land in the flowering raspberry bushes that bordered the tree line.

“We’ll be friends forever, right, Basil?” I asked after a while, sheepishly adjusting my flower crown.

"Of course we will,” he responded. “Even when we’re old!”

“How old? Like, eighteen? That’s super old!”

Basil laughed. “Yeah! Eighteen and then even older!”

I smiled hopefully. “And we can still make flower crowns like this?”

“Ace, when we’re eighteen, I’ll still make you all the flower crowns you want,” Basil decreed with a grin. “That’s a promise.”

* * *

The warmth of the sun and Basil’s innocent smile faded as I woke up to last night’s rain dripping down on me from the cracks in the ceiling above. Bertrand stood over me, jostling me awake with one hand while the other held a vial of another one of his concoctions. I assumed I had fallen asleep after supper, because the dishes remained untouched by the washbasin and twilight was just pouring in through the window.

“Drink up,” Bertrand commanded in that voice of his that just begged to be disobeyed, holding the potion in front of me expectantly as if to remind me of the curse that filled the vacant space within me. He stared at me with piercing eyes over the top of his dull gray beard, swishing the vial back and forth for emphasis.

I grabbed it from his wrinkly hand and sloshed the red liquid around in disgust before shutting my eyes and downing it in one gulp, just to appease him. Even so, I could not resist the urge to lay a hand against my chest, but still I felt nothing. Shaking my head, I rose from my cot and pushed past Bertrand, grabbing my bow and arrow off the hook by the door and slinging it over my shoulder.

“Where are you going?” Bertrand called after me.

“Out,” I answered, already halfway out the rickety wooden door.

“It’s past nightfall, Ace, it’s dangerous out there!”

But I was already gone, walking away from the old house as the door slammed shut behind me with a satisfying thud.

Over the seven years I’d spent under Bertrand’s leaky roof, I had slowly become disillusioned with the idea of ever finding a potion strong enough to light a fire in my ribcage. Bertrand had tested a lot of his spells on me throughout my life, but the love potion had always proven to be the least effective.

But I suppose that is to be expected when you do not have a heart.

The Village of the Heartless was smaller than the town where I grew up. A single dirt road ran from the village gates to the top of the hill, through the neighborhood before coming to a stop at the edge of the woods that surrounded the kingdom of Amistadia. We were a close-knit community, learning to provide and look out for each other through thick and thin, through every harsh winter and plentiful spring.

Bertrand’s house stood at the edge of the village, where the hill dropped off toward the gates below. At the base of the hill stood a large, sturdy oak tree where I perched some nights with my bow and arrow on the lookout for trouble.

Nights in the Village of the Heartless were always dark, as we could never afford enough oil to keep all of the town’s lamps lit, but they weren’t always quiet. Kids from neighboring towns sometimes wandered the area at night, brandishing knives in their grimy hands, looking to stir up trouble. Tonight was no exception; as I neared the village limits, I caught a glimpse of a pair of boys making their way down the road, and a thrill shot up my spine. I climbed swiftly up the oak tree and perched in the shadow of its lush, leafy branches, fingers itching for my bow.

The pair dragged a child behind them by the arm, yanking her across the dirt with them as they cackled and cheered triumphantly at their prized catch. The girl held tightly to a canvas sack, trying fruitlessly to pull away from her captors.

“Get away, get away!” she shrieked, dodging a blow as she fell to the ground, clutching the bag to her torso desperately.

“What’s the matter, little runt?” one of the assailants sneered. “You’re not afraid of a couple of kids, are you?”

“I just wanted something to eat!” the girl cried out as a likely filthy knife narrowly missed her cheek.

If I had been in my right mind, I would have simply shot the pair of boys in the shoulder, snatched up the child, and run away, but Basil’s face kept flashing in my mind; an anger was boiling in my gut that demanded confrontation.

“Hey, ugly!” I shouted, pulling back an arrow and pointing it in their direction.

The kid with the knife froze, eyes darting up to my place on the tree branch. I was yards away, but I could see the glint of light from the last of the setting sun on the knife as his fist tightened around it. His partner, as well as the child still laying on the ground with the sack clutched to her chest, stared wide-eyed as he

“Who’re you talking to?” he grumbled.

“Doesn’t matter,” I quipped, hopping down from my perch and tightening my grip on the arrow. “Just let the kid go.”

“Why should I?” he retorted, nonetheless taking a step back when he saw the arrow aimed directly at his head. “Y-You’re not really going to shoot that.”

“How do you know?”

The other kid called out, “Hey, let’s just get out of here.” He was ignored.

Pointing to the little girl, Knife Boy puffed out his chest and continued, “There’s no way you’re really worried about her. You Heartless are all the same; you don’t feel a damned thing. No way you’d go out of your way to save her.”

I allowed myself a bitter, self-indulgent smirk, too brief to be seen in the thick darkness. “If that’s what you believe, that I am entirely emotionless, then wouldn’t it also stand to reason that I would feel no remorse about ending your sorry life right here and now?” I drew my bowstring further; the wood audibly creaked. “If that’s the case, then it would seem you had better start running.”

Knife Boy froze, taking a few steps back before he and his friend took off running in the direction they came. “Cursed bastards!” he yelled over his shoulder as he hopped the gate and disappeared. Once they were out of sight, I let my arms drop to my side and slung my bow back over my shoulder. I felt my brow furrow in frustration; life in the village had become so mundane that I was almost hoping for a fight. I quickly stifled that selfish thought, pushing it to the far recesses of my mind; the girl, who had stayed completely still on the ground throughout the whole ordeal, now scrambled to her feet, still clutching the bag in her white-knuckled hands. Now, no longer squinting through the dark, I recognized her immediately.

“That was awesome! How did you know what to say?” she beamed, slinging the canvas sack over her shoulder and wiping the dirt from a pair of ratty pants that fell three inches from her ankles.

"Petra, you’re the one who I keep hearing has been stealing food from the neighboring villages?” I asked her, and her expression soured immediately at having been caught.

“Yeah, that was me,” Petra admitted under her breath. Then, scrambling to justify herself, she added, “But I only do it because there’s not enough food in the village and I gotta eat something!”

I nodded, mulling it over. “Sure, now I suppose I can’t blame you for that, but stealing is wrong. You’re plenty old enough to know that.”

“Of course, I know that, but I needed food!”

“Fine, I get it, I get it,” I sighed. “Just don’t make this a habit, got it? I promised Annie I would keep you out of trouble.”

Petra pouted. “Fine,” she mumbled. I started back up the hill, with Petra trotting silently alongside me.

At thirteen years old, Petra had been living in the Village of the Heartless since she was a baby—which was still longer than I’d been in town—left outside the home of one of the village women, Annie, in the middle of the night. I’d met her several years ago, and she quickly became enthralled with my stories of life outside the village. Annie was dead several months now, leaving Petra to fend mostly for herself, though the community kept a watchful eye over her (Not watchful enough, I thought ruefully).

“You didn’t tell me how you knew what to say to that kid,” she urged, struggling to keep up with my strides.

“I used to spend time around those kinds of people a lot when I was a kid,” I explained, deciding to humor her. “I’ve learned how to turn their own words against them by now.”

I did not tell her that had I learned how to do so sooner, things may have turned out a lot differently.

* * *

I eventually sent Petra home with a warning that I’d be watching to make sure she didn’t get into any more trouble. When I crossed the threshold back into Bertrand’s musty old house, the palm of his hand came down hard across my face, leaving a sharp stinging sensation behind on my skin.

“What on earth was that for?” I yelped. Bertrand grabbed me by the wrist and dropped me into one of the rickety dining chairs in the center of the room, bearded face practically sparking with rage.

“You must not keep doing that!” he scolded.

“Doing what?” I asked innocently.

“Getting into confrontations with… hooligans! What else?”

“I did what I had to—”

“Don’t think I wasn’t watching, Ace! I could see the entire ordeal from the window!”

“Well maybe if you’d actually done something to help instead of just watching—”

“Unlike you, Ace, I value my life and am not going to get myself killed just to feel like the hero!”

I couldn’t help but bristle at his comment. Something in my soul shattered, and I sprung to my feet, the wooden chair tipping backward onto the stone floor behind me with a loud clatter that would have rang through the eaves had I not immediately erupted into theatrics.

“What do you mean you value your life? All you do is sit around making futile potion after potion and you still think it’ll work next time!” I clenched my fists at my sides, willing the confrontational energy in my veins to burn out before it swallowed me whole. “So maybe I need to tell off some asshole every once in a while to finally feel like I’m doing something meaningful. So you can keep pouring bile down my throat all you want, but I can assure you it’ll never make me happy!”

Bertrand’s face fell, and I knew deep down that I had hurt him, but I could not bring myself to feel guilty. He had it coming, I thought, stalking across the room to my cot by the window. I sat down on the thin mattress, kicked off my boots, and pulled my knees up to my chest.

“Ace—” Bertrand, having followed me, reached out a hand as if to lay it on my shoulder, but I flinched away from the touch and he retracted the appendage as if he had been burned.

“Don’t touch me,” I muttered, directing my gaze out the window at the dark, lonely night creeping across the landscape. “Just leave me alone.”

With a sigh, Bertrand retreated from my bedside, retiring to his back potion room to conjure his demons away, and I sat back against the wall, longing for home and the warm voices of my parents.

That night, I dreamt of Knife Boy, and his words reminded me of Carita, the girl who kissed me under an oak tree when we were younger and told me I was weird for flinching

Next chapter releases 7/25!

#The Heartless #aro #aromantic #aro writing #aro writers #writing #writeblr #aspec writing #aspec writers #op

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sagemoderocklee · 3 years

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2020 has been a weird fucking year, to put it mildly. There have been a lot of ups and downs, and with New Year’s Eve and the start of 2021 upon us, focusing on the ~positive~ seemed like a better way to end the year, and hopefully start 2021 feeling inspired and proud for overcoming this horrendous year.

For many people, it was difficult--even impossible--to get anything done this year (myself included), and that’s okay! But if you were able to make progress on writing projects, even if it was just one or even if it was just part of one, you should celebrate that! I wish I’d thought of this sooner and organized it better, but regardless I wanted to celebrate my own accomplishments with regards to my writing, and encourage others to do the same! I was going to tag people, but I’m not sure with it being 2 hours til midnight for me if that would feel like putting too much pressure on others, so if you want to do this too please do!

This wrap up is honestly just a self-indulgent look back on the works I’ve made and what I learned/gained from each, maybe what I don’t like about them, some totaling on what I did, and some resolutions for the next year. It’s silly, but I think it’s kinda fun and if you missed any of the things I have posted this year, you’ll find them here!

2020 Fic Wrap Up:

Kado: Parts II+III (COMPLETED)

Kado was started in September of 2019 for the @puregaalee summer event. This was a last minute thing that I started the day the prompt was due and managed to write the first part in about 6 hours while sitting in a cafe--remember that? Sitting in cafes? Man, I miss that. I hadn’t anticipated working on Kado, but I decided that I was going to finish it this year, and I’m honestly amazed that I did. This fic is sweet and fun, and surprisingly popular, though it isn’t my favorite of my works. However, it is a light, fluffy little romcom modern AU, and I learned a lot with it because despite my struggles with modern AUs and their horrible lack of political intrigue, this fic forced me to work within set parameters. I was only writing a 3 part story, and each part could only be 9 scenes long. For those unfamiliar, kado is another term for Ikebana, and in Ikebana there are specific elements to follow. Certain styles will only use three branches, some will use nine. So my goal was for the structural elements of the fic to mimic Ikebana. In doing this, I was able to do something I don’t usually do, which is keep this story more concise.

I’m still not sure how I personally feel about the ending, but I think endings are always a struggle, especially with something like this.

Gate of Dreaming (COMPLETED)

This is a fic that I started last year, then left to sit untouched with only 2k words. Getting back into it was a bit difficult because I was writing something very different from my usual: stream of consciousness. This fic was very experimental for me not only because of the stream of consciousness, but also because of the changing tenses. This was another exercise--unexpected though it was--in brevity. With this particular story, it couldn’t be dragged on and on, because--despite the 100 year time span--the events take place within the Infinite Tsukuyomi. This was also the first time I’d worked from Lee’s PoV in quite some time, so that was fun because I do enjoy writing him, but usually write from Gaara’s PoV. This is definitely one of my favorites from this year, and since it had been sitting on the back burner for so long, I’m so excited that I could finally get it done.

Another one where the ending really wasn’t easy to achieve, but I did end up liking it more than I expected, and I think the best thing is that it’s open-ended which leaves room for others to guess at what the future holds.

It Eats Your Heart (WIP)

This was an unexpected fic for me in every way imaginable. Starting another fic? Making another modern AU? Tackling the horror genre? None of those were things I’d planned to do this year, but lo and behold, that’s just what I did. I really enjoy a good bit of horror, but it is NOT an easy genre to work within, and this fic has definitely been a push for me. But with it being such a push, the payoff is far more. Stepping out of my comfort zone is something I like doing, but I think this is the biggest step outside of that and I am so incredibly proud of how that first chapter turned out because of it. I was really able to surprise myself with this fic, and I am hoping to update the next chapter early on in the year.

Absolution (WIP)

This fic is probably the second oldest idea/longest unpublished fic I currently have up. Formerly a much longer title, the idea for this fic came to me in May of 2017 when a friend, @brianadoesotherjunk / @brianadoesart, posted a piece of GaaLee fanart that sparked inspiration. The fic took off, morphed into something much bigger than the one scene depicted by the art, and now 3 years later, the first part is up. Initially, this was meant to be a long shot, but after sitting with this for so long, I realized that I needed to split it up into 9 parts, which allowed me to use this for GaaLee bingo and finally publish it. Much of the first part was already written before this year, but I’d been quite stuck on it until now. This is actually probably one of my favorite GaaLee concepts to date. I remember back in the day, there weren’t a lot of different takes on getting Lee to Suna so he and Gaara could fall in love, so (at the risk of sounding cocky) I think that Lee as a nanny is rather inspired. I think with this fic, I pushed myself the hardest to get past the hurdle of writer’s block and accepted that publishing is probably the best way to motivate myself to keep going. The feedback for this fic has been really motivating, so I think I’m probably right about that.

I do think there are some parts in the middle or towards the end that could maybe use some tightening up, but I’m just happy to finally have this fic out in the world.

The Art of Love: Chapter 11 (WIP)

TAoL is such a ridiculous labor of love. The chapters for this fic are novellas in and of themselves, so each time I update it takes a lot of work to get them out. This fic is one of those like magnum opus type fics. I have put so much into it, and I’m honestly amazed that it’s only been up for 3 years because I’m approaching the halfway mark on it, and I don’t think I expected to be there by now. Despite being able to churn out 30k chapters, I have a hard time focusing on one thing and I often struggle with mental health related writer’s block, so big works are always sort of sporadic in their updates.

This particular update of TAoL was definitely one of my favorites though. Initially, I didn’t plan to go the sort of dark fantasy rout that I did with Shikamaru, but I actually really love what I’ve done with him, though I worry others won’t be as into it or that the execution isn’t quite there. One thing I would like to work on with future chapters of TAoL, however, is maybe pairing things down a bit--though I’m not sure that’ll always be possible. The next chapter is a Naruto PoV chapter, though, so I expect that one to be a MUCH shorter chapter than the last three and should be able to get it out sometime next year.

Before I could publish this chapter, however, I did go through and make some big changes, which is something I often struggle with because of such long breaks in between working on certain projects. I will say, though, that TAoL continues to push me to greater heights as a writer, and I look forward to actually finishing this fic someday.

Thirteen Strokes: 1 + 2 (WIP)

Another unexpected fic this year, however, this one was actually an idea for about a year, unlike IEYH. This fic has really given me a lot of perspective on my own writing and world building, and has inspired me to sit down and really start committing the things I’ve developed to paper to create a cohesive view of Suna, Wind, and the shinobi world. This fic is meant to be a Romance. Like just full on Romance. I write a lot of tragedy and focus on a lot of darker themes in my writing, so while I don’t think of this as stepping outside of my comfort zone, it is very different from my usual, and a really nice change of pace. I think, in all honesty, it is one of my best works, and I do hope I can continue to deliver on the remaining 11 parts of this story.

if this were the last i felt you breathing (COMPLETED)

Ugh. This fic has been my enemy for 2 long years. I signed up for a Secret Santa exchange, and of course, I regretted doing it when I found that I was not motivated and, after the month of October where I was churning out fic after fic for GaaLee Bingo, that I was massively burned out. I wasn’t able to think past writer’s block, and so I ended up settling on dusting off an old, unfinished piece for my giftee, and I hope they can forgive me for not coming up with something brand new for them.

This fic was a struggle. Working so closely with the canon--following the Rescue Kazekage Arc as closely as I did for this fic--made this a much bigger challenge and this fic sat and sat and sat for two years, untouched and incomplete. I’m still not sure how I feel about it. I know it’s not my best work, but I am glad that this fic isn’t hanging over my head and that I was able to deliver something to my secret santa giftee.

My goal with this fic was to rewrite this particular arc from Lee’s PoV to give more depth to the arc and shift the emotional core of it away from Naruto. Naruto as a character has a lot of flaws that never get addressed, and one of the things that is consistently frustrating for me is the way the emotional core of the series rests on him in unrealistic and often superficial ways. Naruto hasn’t spoken to Gaara in three years, but I’m supposed to believe he’s this affected by Gaara’s kidnapping? Temari and Kankuro are right there! Lee is right there! I wanted to see that, so that’s what I set out to do, and ultimately I don’t think I fully succeeded, but I tried. I guess not everything can be a resounding success

---

This year I managed to do a lot more than I realized. New works, updates, and COMPLETED pieces?! I never would have thought, but staying home gave me more free time, and when I was too broke to work on costumes, writing fanfiction was something free I could do.

Total new works: 5 Total updates: 9 Total completed works: 3 Total words this year: 143,587

---

I have a lot of goals for the coming year, and I know I won’t make all of them, but that won’t stop me from trying.

2021 Writing Resolutions:

Reach 1million words (+238,073 words)

Finish IEYH

Finish Pearl-Filled Lungs

Update TAoL (Chapter 12 and 13)

Update Absolution

Update 13S

Update Find Me (Chapter 6)

Start the Ballad of the Dragon and the Phoenix

Start editing Alliance

Return to working on Honor Bound

Return to working on We Need Not Be Yellow Tulips

#naruto fanfiction #gaalee #naruto #shippuden #gaara #rock lee #fanfiction 2020 wrap up #fanfic year in review

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sometimes-i-write-4-you · 4 years

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I was wondering if you could do a John B one where he is jealous of the reader and her boyfriend and wishes he would leave the friend zone. Then one night or day something happens that causes John B to comfort the reader and she sees that John B was there all along.

only one for me - John B x redaer

triggers: cheating bf (not our John B of course)

(y\n) and John B were always friends. They knew each other for such a long time, (y\n) saw him as a brother. John B, however, saw her in a different light. They were 14 when he realized that.

"I can't wait to see (y\n) today, I miss her" said the young boy with the brown hair. "do you like.. like-like her?" his blond best friend asked. "I don't think so, I just wanna hug her already, haven't seen her in a while" John B replied, and the third boy laughed. "dude, to me it sounds like you like-like her" JJ said, and Pope nodded. "I can't believe I'm saying that, but JJ is right" he said. "no guys, it's normal. I want to hug my friend, cause I miss her" John B insisted.

She finally arrived at John B's to hang out. John hugged her, like kids do, but then he realized he doesn’t want to ever let go.

She wasn't really a part of the group, but she hung out with them a lot, especially during Kie's Kook year, then it was her turn to branch out. He couldn't use the "no pogue on pogue macking" as an excuse really, but he did. He used every single one until it was too late, and she met Gabriel.

Gabriel was a Kook, but she met him at a beach party and they didn't know about the social status difference until later, when they exchanged numbers and his phone was the newest iPhone and her's a Xiaomi. Neither of them cared, at least not enough to ignore the connection, and they started dating soon after. Their friends did care, but love is stronger than anything, right? Wrong.

She was hanging out with Gabriel's friends – drinking, talking smoking and whatever. "so, Gabriel, how's Rosemary liking (y\n)? like, is she not worried (y\n\n) is a just a gold digger? Because I know (y\n\n)'s great, however…" Alice said, sipping on her cocktail. She was laying on the hammock in Gabriel's back yard next to the pool. "she hasn't met her yet" Gabriel replied, flipping the burgers for the BBQ. "oh" Alice said, smiling her devilish smile. "I'm going to, right? Tonight" (y\n) said, "we said I'm staying for dinner". "sure babe" Gabriel said, kissing his girlfriend of 3 months.

"you two are so cute, like Romeo and Juliet or Tony and Maria" Alice said, hiding her hatred towards the couple in her sweet tone. She liked Gabriel, obviously, but that was exactly the problem. "you know that it's basically the same, right? Arthur Laurents based 'west side story' off of Shakespeare's original story" (y\n) corrected Alice. "how do you know it wasn't Shakespeare who copied from Arthur?" Alice said, trying to prove her smarts but failing miserably. "because west side story's first production was after Shakespeare died" Gabriel replied, laughing, "Alice, you truly shock me with your brain". "whatever, nerds" Alice sighed, sipping on her drink once again.

"let's play 7 minutes in heaven" offered one of the guys. If (y\n)'s memory was correct, he was Don. Or was it Daniel? Or was Don the other Blond guy, and this was Ernie?

"Don, we're not 14, we don't need a game to kiss someone" said the other Blond guy, Ernie. (y\n) smiled at her small victory of remembering the names of her new circle. "I'm down" Alice smiled, "I'll make the notes" she added as she got up, and Ernie changed his mind. "yeah, ii guess it can be really fun" he said, scratching the back f his head. Alice rolled her eyes at the love-struck boy and took a notebook and a pen out of her bag to make the notes.

-2 hours later-

John B stood in his kitchen, staring at the nearly expired rice and tying to remember how to make it. With his dad away, he should probably learn how to make food, right?

A knock on the door made him smile. Hopefully it will be one of his friend who can make food, or even better – one if his friends with food. He opened the door almost too fast, the smile on his face turning to a look of worry at the sight of crying (y\n).

Before he got to ask what's going on, the red-eyed girl wrapped her hands around him and pushed her head against his shirts. He felt her tears being soaked in his shirt, and rested his hand on her back, shushing her softly. "hey" he said, hand reaching for her cheeks to both wipe away the tears and make her look at him. "hey" he repeated to remind her to turn her eyes to him. she finally looks at him.

"what happened, (y\n\n)?" he asked, "tell me what happened" he added. They stood at the door, quietly, still sort-of-hugging. She broke the hug to walk into the house and sat down on the couch. "Gabriel" she said, "he— we were at a house party, and then— we—well, one of the guys offered to play 7 minutes in heaven and I got Don and he tried to kiss me but I was like… no, cause you know, I'm dating his friend, but when he got Alice… when Gabriel and Alice went into the closet, they—" (y\n) said. John B sat down by her side, pulling her into him. she leaned her head on his shoulder. "I can't believe he kissed another girl when he has you" John B said, even though he could defiantly believe it. He never liked Gabriel, and now he had a good reason. Stealing the girl that was never really his is not a good enough reason.

"if you were my girl, I'd never do that" he said quietly, tempted to tell her she should be. "yeah, you're a great guy" she said, "I don't deserve to be your friend". "of course you do, you deserve everything" John said, "you're a great person, and you shouldn't let stupid Gilbert make you think differently". "his name is Gabriel" (y\n) corrected, "like the angel. His parents gave him the wrong name, he's no angel" she sighed. "but you are, so don't let him make you cry" John insisted, stroking her side to comfort her. She slowly calmed down, but he had to ask something. "so you two are done?" he asked. she nodded, "yeah, I dumped his ass right in front of his friends. Most of them laughed, but Alice seemed satisfied" (y\n) said. Her phone ringed.

Don (?): hey, now that you are single, wanna reclaim you're 7 minitues in heaven? 😉

John laughed at the text; both did. "this is ridicules" he said, "I mean, wow". "yeah" (y\n) said, "wanna help me reply?" she asked, biting her lip. The perfect payback. "uh, yeah?" John said, half-asking. She opened the camera and made him turn to her. Face to face. They were close, and John B found it hard to resist temptation, but turns put he doesn't need you. (y\n)'s lips locked with his for a split second, and she sent the picture to Don.

"what the fuck?" John said, a little pissed. His dream came true, but this is not how he imagined their first kiss to be. He had this whole thing planned out where he'll tell her to close her eyes because he has a surprise and then he'll kiss her. "I'm not a toy for Kooks to pass around, I'm done with those fart boys-" "you mean frat boys?" "-no, fart boys, because they stink" she said, making John B to laugh even though he wanted to be mad at her.

"just.. look, (y\n), you can't go around kissing people as pay back on your ex, I have feelings. Give me a heads up next time" he sighed. "don't be a baby, it's not like I was leading you on for a moment there, right?" she said, wiping away her tears. John looked at her, and she realized something. well, two things to be exact.

One – his eyes had a pain she recognized from the mirror she looked at on the way here to see how ugly crying made her. The pain of understanding the person you love doesn’t love you as much. Second thing was is beautiful, kind and he's always there for her. It was always him.

"I was, wasn't i? shit man" she laughed sadly, "good job, me". "it's okay, I guess. My bad for never telling you" he said. "no, I fooled myself, not you" she says. He looked at her confused. "let me make it up to you" (y\n) smiled, ignoring John's confusion. Her hand reached for his cheek to pull him as close as possible, and her lips crashed against his. He kissed back without questioning it, until he started to overthink.

"wait, are you just looking for something because of Gabriel, or is this for real?" he asked, pulling away. "for real, John B, as real as it gets. I'm kind of stupid for never seeing that you were the only one for me" (y\n) said, slightly offended. Her serious tone convinced John B, and led to understand she likes him back. Finally. He smiled and pulled her back into the kiss.

#john b #john b x reader #john b imagine #John Booker Routledge #john b imagines #Outer Banks #outer banks netflix #outer banks x reader #outer banks imagines #obx #obx netflix

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what-a-messsss · 4 years

Text

2x3 rewatch

I keep forgetting that Brach is still in S2. Oops. Also, I apparently went to check something in S6 last time I watched something, so it started at 6x2 instead of 2x3 and I yelled. But anyway, on with this mess. “Death Came in Like Thunder” apparently. It sure did.

Ah yes, let us not forget that Branch is MANLEH. This shall be proven to us by him murdering his cousin, Trunk, with big ax. Chop chop, Branch, kill Trunk. But oh no, must also show that he is People Smart, so must also lose because this makes him likable. And many white people clap. Yaaaay. But be sure to say, “I let him win, Ferg,” while your competitor is right next to you, so he almost surely heard you. Good good.

Oh Ferg. Could you look more gormless if you tried? (I mean, probably not, since presumably that was the goal of the actor, so he would have been trying. But still.) Bb.

Heh, nice thematic cut to Walt also chopping wood. And YAY, Henry’s gorgeous truck (and gorgeous self). I’m just going to take a moment to appreciate the fact that Henry rolls up and just helps himself to some of Walt’s thermos of coffee. Because of course he does. But I do so love these touches that they put in that do underline the fact that they are married have been besties for going on 40 years. Also, I love this jacket of Henry’s. The woven top, jean jacket sort of one? Yeah, top 5 costume pieces of his for me. (Also on that list, all basically tied with each other, basically any pants he wears. I am reminded, when they cut back out to a full body shot. Because I am very shallow, and he is very pretty.)

Haaaaaa. And of course Cady talked to Henry before she talked to Walt. Walt is a butthead. And, yeah yeah, she just found out that he’d been lying to her for over a year, but that just proves my point that Walt is a butthead. And we’re back to this whole idea that she left her phone, which just... ugh. No. But Henry’s face when he says that she said that she is safe, and he’s so worried, but still willing to respect her boundaries.

“She is an adult, Walt.” “She’s my daughter.” For fuck’s sake, you jackass, your ADULT daughter; that’s the whole flipping point! Also, that little emphasis on my daughter, pfft. If you didn’t want to feel like she preferred her cool dad to you, maybe try being less of an AAAAAAASSHOLE. And, like, respecting her. Even a weensy little bit.

“Etta Place” I don’t remember if we find out why that’s the ‘assumed name’ that Cady chose, but I’m intrigued. Wait, I just googled. Looooool. She spent years with Butch and Sundance. Nice.

Walt is such a soft touch with teens. *snack crackle pop* that kneecap back into place. Vic starts this scene saying, “The 911 operator,” though, which is interesting, because I was kind of under the impression that Ruby was the main dispatcher, so it would be kind of heartening if she actually had back up with that. ...Or maybe they’re just far enough out that a cell call made would be picked up by a tower farther out and have to be routed back in to the station/them. I have no idea how that actually works. Another rabbit hole for me to totally not go down. Hopefully. Shit. They’ve apparently upped the fine for trespass since the show, though, because it’s $750 (or 6 months in jail) now and Walt says it’s $500.

And once again, we see Vic actually wearing gloves while investigating a suspicious death, and Walt just squinting into the distance helpfully. I suppose “things got bad” in Basque country around WWII, but there has been friction there that dates back before the Spanish Civil War, or even the Carlist Wars the previous century. It did get gnarly with the dictatorship of Franco, and the formation of the ETA in retaliation, though, so yeah. (Francisco Franco is also on the list of people who anybody with a time machine should go back and beat the shit out of.)

Shit, I forgot about the animal death.

Knock knock, no answer. Better just wander in without a warrant. I know that the guy who they know lives there is dead, but still, no fricking warrant; I suppose the worry of a poisoning could count as probably cause?

Gods, but there are moments when I do absolutely adore Vic, and they are usually when she’s taking the piss out of Walt. “Reclusive bachelor chic; you and Marco have the same decorator.” Looool. But also, sad, because Martha has only been gone for a little over a year, and Walt is not the kind of person who would, like, change stuff and get rid of her things, so that’s kind of odd. Maybe Henry and/or Cady went though and put away some of her things to try to help Walt move on? But damn, the ‘excuse you’ look on Walt’s face when she does say it, pffft.

AND AGAIN, Vic wearing gloves, Walt with his bare ass hands picking up the picture of Picasso’s Guernica; can you at least *pretend* you’re a cop, *some* of the time, buddy?

Lol at the barrabilak; they are pretty well by the Rocky Mountains, so it’s probably not all that surprising that Walt’s had some “Rocky Mountain oysters” before.

I had forgotten that Vic had four brothers. But her comment about Sal going off to look after the sheep and how if someone had told her that one of her brothers were dead she “wouldn’t care about any damn sheep,” I don’t know. It kind of annoys me. It’s totally in character for her, which is good, but I think it’s part of what can annoy me about her character. Different people grieve differently, but also, I know she’s only been in Wyoming for a year or two, tops, but how is it so hard to fathom that someone one would be concerned about their livelihood, even in the face of personal tragedy? Just, seeing beyond her own very narrow experience doesn’t seem like something she’s very good at. It would be one thing if she’d framed it as “this is suspicious, and here’s why I think so as a cop,” but it was, “I wouldn’t react that way personally, so it’s sus.”

Sure, be suspicious because there’s a suspicious death and family members are always suspects until ruled out, but approach it like a cop. Or at least think about it from more angles than just your own, not terribly similar experience. You’re a white city cop who can’t (or won’t) adjust to being in BF rural-ville, but these are immigrant shepherds whose family come from a homeland where the cops were just as likely to kill you as answer questions, and you’re side-eying a guy for going to make sure that their meal ticket doesn’t get obliterated?

I need to keep reminding myself that I really did want to like Vic. I really did. She just... they don’t make it easy for me. Maybe she’s serving as an avatar for audience who don’t know about some of the culture stuff, and the audience get answers from her ignorance? But honestly, I wish they’d picked a different way to handle that, if that’s what they were trying to do. Her response to Henry being salty about Thanksgiving still really pisses me off. Because it was shitty and racist, and... do we really need a character basically rolling their eyes and saying, “It was so long ago, why don’t you just get over it,” about something that is intrinsically tied to the genocide of so many people? Why are Indigenous people just supposed to “get over it” but “Remember the Alamo” and “Southern Pride,” and shit? Fuck’s sake. Honestly, that might have been the moment when they lost me on her character. She has moments where she’s awesome, but they never really address her being fucking racist or give her a chance to grow into a better person. Which sucks a lot. Fuck. Ok, that was a lot. Sorry. Back to the actual ep.

AH, nice of you to beam in from the campaign trail, Brancheroo!

Uh, so I paused it to look at pic in the newspaper, and then being me, started to look at the articles surrounding the pic. And the one with the headline “Fans Injured At Local Game” is actually about the Stewart case? From 1x3? I’m guessing that somebody went to the trouble of writing up an article for that for some S1 ep after it and they just plugged it in because when not paused, you might catch “Sheriff Longmire” there and that’s all they need. Especially since the text starts to repeat after the first paragraph. (I am the worst pedantic little shit.) Ooooor, maybe even though it’s S2, it’s hardly been any time since 1x3? The date on the newspaper is March 31, 2012, so there’s a timeline hint.

Awwwwww, once Walt points out the bird, Ferg knows exactly what it is. Occasional twitcher, are we, my lad? “A red-tip meadowlark,” indeed. Oh bb; Ferg’s face when he sees Walt looking at the pic of him with Branch in the paper.

“You go too fast, you miss the little things.” Every once in a while, he actually sort of mentors Ferg. I wish he did more of that, especially since we see later how capable Ferg can be.

Go suck an egg, Branch. Why does she get all the “good” assignments? Maybe because she was actually on the job when they found the body, not campaigning.

OPE. Lizzie’s gift. Yeah, I’d probably choke on that coffee if I were you, too, girl. Better hope that there wasn’t perishable food stuffs in that gift, because that has been in there for a whiiiiiile, hasn’t it. Wait, was Ferg in the office when Lizzie dropped off the gift? Because his face said more than just “Did somebody give Vic a present?” Suuuuper subtle with that whole pushing the drawer closed with your foot there, Vic. Pfffft.

“Cyrano Caballero” How daaaare that skeeve take Cyrano’s name in vain?!?! (I have a thing about Cyrano de Bergerac. It’s quite possibly my favourite play, and I adore the character, and have exactly 0 chill about it at all. I find Brian Hooker’s translation of “The Ballade of the duel at the Hotel Bourgogne Between de Bergerac and a Boeotian” with “Then, as I end the refrian, thrust home,” vastly superior to any other translation that I’ve heard or read, though for the rest of it, I will grant that there are others to be preferred. But that version of his Ballade is exquisite, and I will not be swayed. Holy shit, FOCUS. That is so very much not the point.) It’s not even a throw away line in this ep, it’s just a random, very well chosen, if utterly appallingly insulting, company name. It’s actually incredibly clever for what the business is, and if it didn’t make me so stomping mad, I would applaud whoever came up with it heartily.

Vic’s face listening to this jackass’ spiel is a thing of beauty. “A good woman goes a long way of easing the obvious stresses of your daily life,” the jackass says, cutting his eyes at Vic when he says “obvious stresses,” and I caaaackle.

What is it about this guys’ horrible glasses that just makes him so much more hate-able? I’m not entirely sure, but kudos to whatever costumer put those on him, because they are perfect. In the ‘I want to punch him’ way of perfection.

And after all of that about Walt’s “lady friend,” Vic brings Lizzie’s present. Womp womp. That went super well. Yuuuup, run while you can.

Poor Ferg. Branch manipulates him, Vic ignores him, Walt shuts him down... Poor guy just can’t get a break.

I actually kind of like this motel manager--the one who “doesn’t judge people” and is a stickler for warrants? At least somebody in this county cares about warrants. Also, those doors are actually really pretty. Nice colour, and the carved scrollwork designs are nice.

What an odd shot: the one when they’re coming out of Walt’s office after talking to Skeevy McGrossFace and Rosa. It’s a weird sort of shaky-cam stepping back, just preceding Branch walking, and then turns to follow him when he sit’s on his desk. But it’s a really different style of shot than I can remember, so much so that it’s a bit jarring, especially after the series of nearly stationary close ups that we just had. Weird. [18:42-18-50]

Cady! I haven’t made much note of her costuming before this, but it seems notable that’s she’s only in monocromatics. Especially next to Fales in muted tones, but still some colour, and surrounded by the colourful grafitti of the alley where her mother was stabbed. Nice way of setting her apart from everything.

SHEEPIES! Ooooo, that wagon is so cool. Ah dang, the way that Sal corrects Walt’s pronunciation of his brother’s name is so gloriously passive aggressive. Good for you, my dude. Names are important, and people should have the respect to make the effort to get them right.

Aaaaaand Walt, the definition of Do, Don’t Tell, just shoves the guy to keep him from drinking the possibly dangerous water, rather than, like, using his words. Walt’s gonna Walt.

Iiiiiiiii am a mess, truly. It cuts to an architectural model and I start giggling like a 6th grader, because I know it’s going to be a Jacob scene. He’s not even on screen yet, ffs. HANDS. I’m fine. Totally fine. (That’s totally a lie. I just rewound to the beginning of the scene because I kept giggling too much to pay attention. What the hell.) First time we’ve seen one of the chips, which at this point must be a marketing mock-up, since nothing is built yet. And he actually types, not just doing the hunt-and-peck thing that is sometimes easier on a tablet.

Looking at the weaving that is up on his wall (maybe a rug?) I’m hoping that the prop people actually did buy from Northern Cheyenne artisans. They apparently did most of their filming in New Mexico, so I hope they made the effort to get the patterns right, and buy from the actual tribe they’re supposed to be portraying, I guess? And now I’m distracted by the fact that the random hanging light behind Jacob is at a weird angle?

Look, ever since I realized that the “Hey,” that Jacob does is apparently just A (thanks to it also happening in That Damned Xmas Movie) I am endlessly amused (and charmed) whenever Jacob does it. I don’t know why it makes me so happy, but it does. (This is legitimately embarrassing. How much trouble I am having focusing. Beyond my normal focus issues, which, as shown above, are already impressive. Because thiiiiirst.)

“My boys at the lumber yard did just throw you a campaign rally.” I love how Jacob is basically apparently not just his secret angel-investor, but also a sneaky campaign manager. Did Branch just think shit like the rally just happened? He’s not fricking Ferris Bueller; somebody organizes those. And apparently it’s either Jacob himself, or someone who Jacob appointed to do so.

“I thought you were just a casino developer.” You have noooo clue, Brancheroo. “I prefer to remain a silent partner. White people get nervous when Indians start taking back their land.” Oooooope. Especially interesting because there are previsions for the Tribal Council to purchase land to be Tribal land (Section 6 of Article IX of the Tribal Constitution), but this seems more along the lines of personal acquisition. Though maybe not, because “on the board” doesn’t necessarily equate to being the owner.

The set up of Jacob’s office is so interesting. Functionally for the show, it’s probably for better shooting angles, so that we can see more of Jacob behind the desk while Branch is sitting in front of it, but from an in-the-verse decorating standpoint, bit’s fascinating. He has this focal wall with the gorgeous wall hanging, flanked by floor to ceiling window, but instead of having his desk centered on that wall and directly facing the bulk of the room, it’s at an almost 45 degree angle on a huge rug, and it’s so unexpected. I kind of love it, and want to analyze it for days. Also worth noting is that pride of place is given to the Hotamétaneo’o headdress which is on a stand centered in front of the wall hanging.

How fucking tired must Jacob be. He’s used to Walt... Walting, but then Branch comes in, who he is literally spending his own money to support in his bid for sheriff, and he pulls the same shit of assuming that he’s behind Bad Shit. And then Branch frames it as “bad P.R,” so he’s there to “discuss it with [him] privately.” And then basically threatens him with Walt. I swear. ...there is something a little amusing about Walt being used as the stick in the carrot and a stick method of negotiating. He certainly is enough of a blunt object most of the time.

Oh fuck you so much, Branch. Playing the “can’t give you details about an ongoing investigation” card as though you have some professional or moral leg to stand on after basically blackmailing Jacob with Walt’s vendetta is just such shit. You don’t get to look down your nose at Jacob’s quid pro quo pragmatism when you were the one who came to him for financial backing. You sanctimonious little shitheel. If you didn’t want to deal with Jacob, you shouldn’t have taken his $100k. He’s a business man, and you’re an investment, and not a quixotic one.

“He’s probably the only person to have died from [hemlock] since Socrates.” And then Walt’s incredulous look and her, “Alright, I googled it,” were subtle comedic gold.

Ooooooo, that was a nice little shot. Not quite foreshadowing, but showing Branch’s suspicions and sort of inviting the audience to share them. Walt says his bit about the Army poisoning “Indian wells” to kill them off and get their land, and then we see Branch fiddling with the Four Arrows chip and narrow his eyes considering and slip the chip into his pocket, looking suspicious. It’s a really neat little moment of visual storytelling, no lines, literally three seconds long, just sort of snuck in there, but super effective. Really nicely done.

And again, Cady is in monochromatics. And, shit, just gave Fales Henry’s name. Aaaaaand right after, she realizes that the junkie was killed and realizes that it had to have been one of her dads (or so she thinks).

Sal’s monologue in the cell is a good emotional payoff that plays off of Vic’s comments towards the beginning of the episode. I see the narrative worth of her making them, and how the structure of the episode benefits from it; but seeing those writing elements from the outside of the show doesn’t make me able to like her as a character who said them in-universe. And then the threat Sal makes of vengeance on someone who killed one he loves also underscores the stuff with Cady’s investigation into her mother’s death very well. As much as I gripe about the writing *cough S6 cough finale cough* there really is some damn good writing in this show, and I don’t show enough appreciation for it.

Huh, and now there’s a sort of inverse of that weird shot preceding Branch from earlier, but this one is much more effective and less off-putting. This one [33:00] precedes Walt as he walks back into his office, still a medium close up, but it’s much steadier, and the way it is framed, it does quite a bit to convey his mindset, and he walks out of the shot and we see the three deputies following him in like baffled ducklings, making the shot serve another purpose, too. Which honestly makes that earlier shaky follow shot of Branch even weirder, because this one was so much better.

And then Walt has his creepy little speech about how someone would want to watch the light go out of their eyes and not caring if you get caught. I do appreciate that when he’s talking about the psychology of killing with poison he doesn’t just call it a “woman’s method” which media so often does. It might have been the writers keeping who the killer was abstruse, but it was still more gender neutral. Especially since according to The U. S. Department of Justice's report on Homicide Trends in the United States (1980 to 2008) of all poison killers in that time period, 60.5 percent were male and 39.5 percent female. (Table 5 on page 10.) So that long held idea that even Sherlock Holmes was written to have that poison is “of course” a woman’s weapon is pretty crap.

Awwww, the good old days when Walt paid attention to animals. ...I am still bizarrely salty about the fact that he never named his horse. What a good pupper!

And then we have a classic example of Sneaky!Walt, which always takes people quite by surprise, because he’s usually as subtle as Miley Cyrus.

Also because when he does this, it tends to be pretty fucked up, in a Make Someone Think They’re About To Die way. And then he does His Thing, where he just lays out all of his suppositions, with no proof, only the terror of her thinking that she’s been poisoned and you’re withholding medical intervention to get her to confess. And is, irritatingly, correct about his theories. But I’m pretty sure this qualifies as coercing a confession? She thinks she’s fucking dying. Even Vic looks at him like it’s fucked up, and her moral compass where he’s concerned is... skewed.

They way this reveal was played out, (”How’d they find her so fast?” “Hard to say...”) is somewhat ambiguous as to whether it’s supposed to be that Branch went there to tell Jacob or not, but I kind of doubt it? I kind of figure that the meeting that Jacob was having when Branch rambled in was already with Rosa signing the paperwork. Jacob is smart. So, HAH. Little good your “can’t comment on an ongoing investigation” schtick did.

And then the news that someone in law enforcement has been asking after Henry.

“Lizzie was waiting for you here tonight. You should talk to her, Walt. She seems to think she is in a relationship with you.” ....omgs. The tone. I mean, yes, the blisteringly glorious SASS, but how does one not read that as incredibly shippy? Howwwww?

“You are an honest man, Walt. I would like you to stay that way.” Oh Henry. When did you decide that you weren’t? Was it when you hired Hector? Or was there something before? ...I feel like there were things before that. Hello darkness my old friend.

“It is not your job to protect me.” “It is my job...” THOSE WERE THE DAYS. Those were the fucking daaaaaays. And the emotions on Henry’s face after Walt says, “That was my right,” as though Henry cheated him of something. I am so deep in OT3 feels I cannot even see daylight here. The feels of them having been an OT3 and then Walt pulling this shit, and Henry having to defend his own “right” to avenge Martha? It wrecks me. “A good woman was murdered. A bad man is dead. End of story.”

#Longmire #Walt Longmire #Cady Longmire #Henry Standing Bear #Branch is such a tool #Jacob Nighthorse #The Ferg #Victoria Moretti #Episode commentary #How many tangents did I manage to go on this time?#so many #Martha Longmire #I ramble about shots and framing and narrative too.#It took me so long to do this.#I am such a mess.

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