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crookedkryptonitebeliever · 8 months

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Best and worst of both worlds (part 30)

Tw: none for now, short chapter tho this is just like a decision making chaoter

SO VOTE BELOW AND LIKE CHOOSE I WILL ONLY COUNT THE FIRST 21 VOTES

Part 31

You groan, waking up at the incessant buzzing from your phone. You picked up the call without pondering who would be calling you in the middle of the night.

You grumbled a "hello".

"(Name), my dear."

Yves's baritone voice laced with worry and disappointment was enough to shock you awake. Your eyes are now wide open.

"My flight was canceled."

You let out the most visceral 'huh?!' in your life. You proceeded to ask why.

"Due to terrible weather, (name). The airport is experiencing a bout of freezing rain. All flights are canceled until the weather improves." You heard a sigh from him, frustration was evident.

"Then, we will have to wait until they de-ice all aircraft and runways. I will be arriving later than expected."

You were about to respond, but he continued.

"Much, later." Yves pinched the bridge of his nose. He's currently in a cafe within the airport, staring at figures and images undecipherable to the eyes of the common, but it was as easy reading a nursery rhyme to Yves. "I predict that we will be grounded for another three days. The humidity, the temperatures, the forecasts... they're all atrocious."

You felt your shoulders droop in despair.

"I might return by tomorrow, if I am lucky. Otherwise, I could take a train to-"

You cut him off, telling him that it's okay, you're handling yourself well back home. He should attend his conference and enjoy the rest of his time there.

You told him that you appreciate his willingness to drop everything for you, but he needs to settle his own business too. To enjoy and not stress about your problems. You told him that you don't want to be the reason why his life suddenly goes sideways.

"(name), I can take care of myself." Yves replied, sounding slightly offended.

To that, you responded that you have no doubt that he could. But that doesn't mean you can't take care of yourself. You may have struggled to find your footing in the last three- no, four days now, but you think you can manage. All thanks to Yves's help, and it's only three more days, you should be able to survive on your own.

You wondered if you said anything wrong because he wasn't responding to you.

Yves has his cheek propped up on a gloved hand while the other absentmindedly fidgeted with his pen. He knew better than to take your words as "I don't need you"; he is deeply touched by how much you cared about him, But Yves is a caregiver. He has to feel needed and depended on, and right now you're making him feel the exact opposite.

Yves doesn't like how irrational he is now. You didn't mean it that way, but his logic couldn't stop the dejection pooling in his chest.

He sets his pen down and spoke, his earphones picking up on his voice.

"I worry about you, (name)."

He watches you through his laptop monitor. You're lying on your side, smothered in blankets as you put your air conditioner to its lowest temperature.

"...and I miss you."

He added.

You told him that you missed him too. But he doesn't need to worry about you. If you lived a life without Yves before, surely you could survive without him for a while. Likewise, Yves will live on without you as he has lived in the past.

He felt a sharp stabbing pain throughout his entire being. That did not come off as assuring as you intended. Yet you don't realize it and keep smashing his heart into pieces by telling him you're even doing much better without his guidance now.

Yves knows your intent behind those words, you're merely trying to quell his anxieties about your ability to problem-solve, and that is enough for him to not go hysterical at the airport cafe. He wishes that you would be a little more mindful of what comes out of your mouth.

He decided to change the topic.

"Jones is not your chauffeur anymore."

You acknowledged that. Then proceeded to tell him you will be taking the bus again.

"I hired someone else to--"

You dropped the ball and told him you will not be attending your classes. They're mostly lectures and you can afford to miss a couple of tutorials and labs.

He went silent. You wished that you were as perspective as him, so that you could easily know how he was feeling towards your decision.

You called for his attention.

"I want to see you." He requested. "Could you switch your camera on for me, please?"

You pulled the phone away from your ear and propped it against the wall in front of you. The voice call was soon changed to a video call, the angle that you choose to present yourself is horrible, but Yves is simply happy to see your face this close and personal.

As always, he looks fantastic and fresh. Wearing fashionable clothes and a pair of shapely, black gloves. His hair is nothing like your messy, bed head one, it's immaculately curled and silky.

You saw him smiling at you adoringly. "You're so endearing."

You looked at your own video feed and wondered what he saw in you. You look hideous right now.

You thought he wanted to speak to you about something, but he wordlessly went back to doing his own paperwork and research. Leaving you confused as to why he wanted to see you.

Your eyelids are getting heavier. You asked him if there is anything else, if not, you're going to end the call and contact him later in the day. You want to sleep.

"Well." He looked straight into your eyes through the screen. You don't know how he does that and it still freaks you out. "I hope this isn't too much of me to ask of you."

You nodded for him to continue.

"Could you keep your camera on for me, please?" He asked earnestly.

You told him that you wouldn't be awake to interact with him.

"I would very much rather have your company, even if we aren't exchanging words." The corners of his red lips were slightly tugged downwards.

"It is... lonely without you here." He whispered.

You stared back at him. Yves's emerald eyes were trained onto yours, he held a pen in his hand. You noted that he seems to be subtly fiddling with it, perhaps nervous as to what you would do next?

You thought about it. It's not like the call is keeping you up. And since you're not going to the university in the morning, you wouldn't need to worry about your phone running out of battery. It's currently being charged anyways.

However, maybe having someone watch over your sleeping form isn't the most comfortable idea. You're not used to such... romantic activities. Even if you knew Yves won't be focusing on you for at least eight hours straight, it still leaves a bit of a strange, unlikable taste that you are being exposed to him during your most vulnerable and unconscious state.

What if you burped or farted or mumbled something embarrassing in your sleep? You're not comfortable showing that side of you to Yves yet, you only know him for a little over a month!

But then again, he was the man who cleaned up your puke, removed the snot you left in his perfect hair, who you coughed in his face and shot your phlegm onto his eyelashes and the man who witnessed you orgasm over a couple of his touches. Seeing you asleep should be the least of your worries.

You rubbed your eyes and thought about your next move.

#yandere #yandere x reader #yandere oc #yandere male #yandere concept #tw yandere #oc yves #yandere x you #yandere oc x reader #male yandere oc x reader #oc Montgomery #oc Evangeline

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gossipgirloff1 · 1 month

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Ok so Charles praised Elon Musk on this new podcast episode he did, which like terrible decision in my opinion considering how unpopular Musk is amongst a huge chunk of the population (maybe not f1 fans tho lmao some of them can be a bit special to say the least) for his hateful, uneducated and frankly stupid at times rhetoric on just about any topic, and a lot of people are understandably upset, but it got me thinking: obviously we should never put the drivers (just like any other celebrity mind you) on a pedestal or look up to them as role models because they’re athletes and it simply isn’t their job but even more than that I think that fans tend to forget how ignorant these men are for the most part. Like I’m sorry but most of them haven’t fully completed their education, either grew up in a very privileged sphere and/or were almost exclusively raised in a racing focused bubble and they are nowadays so immensely rich and privileged that they are completely disconnected from the rest of the world (these things might differ a bit from driver to driver but it is the overall picture of the sport). This is not to say that any of them are inherently bad people, we don’t know them well enough to be able to make judge of that, nor are they necessarily stupid, but they aren’t the brightest people either simply because of their life circumstances and they are also most likely have very little knowledge about just about anything that does not concern racing and its lifestyle (I am aware that I am oversimplifying things a lot here but I don’t really know how to express this differently). It is thus obvious that we shouldn’t expect anything from these people and in fact, we shouldn’t be looking up to them at all: they are just the key faces of a very toxic, sexist, homophobic, conservative and ecologically speaking atrocious sport that just so happens to be insanely entertaining and exciting to watch for some. But that is all f1 should remain, entertainment of which the drivers are part of, none of them should be seen as activists or role models or anything of the sort because frankly speaking, what have any of these men done to do warrant such admiration besides driving around the world very fast lol (I am aware that some like Hamilton might be key players in the sport that have also helped it progress but my opinion refers to the general world outside of f1). The only acceptable case where any of them should be a role model for someone is if that person wants to be a racing driver themselves. This criticism applies to any famous athlete/singer/actor btw, who doesn’t do anything like activism or representing and helping out and standing up for certain values/morals/causes, not that they have any obligation to do so. I think that when it comes to idolisation (which to be honest is bad in any case pretty much because it veers off towards excess) and role models and praise we should focus much more on people from our local communities, on activists, on scholars and on our friends and family who shapes us into the people we are, instead of giving celebrities this much attention and free advertisement.

#f1gossip

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galaxicide · 1 year

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IMPORTANT CANON DIVERGENT POINTS: many of my divergency points are made due to the sore lack of context in the movies, messy writing, and a bit of downright terrible writing. most of these are probably already featured in my carrd. but this post will be directly accessible via my pinned post because the divergencies are important.

the og trio ALL survive, ben too. kylo injures han (the severity is up to rpers). leia does not die, neither does luke. why? well, I don't agree with the narrative of wiping out the old for the new. nor having kylo kill off han because harrison wanted out. given how close han and ben's relationship once was, this simply doesn't fit for me. and I also don't think there can be any true healing after the war for ben without his family there. this family is the HEART of the entire franchise. killing them all off was a bad move...as much as I enjoy a tragic narrative.

Luke did NOT try to kill Ben. Ben finding out his relationship with Vader triggered his fall to the dark side, and he accidentally summoned a force storm during his rage (fanned by snoke too) that razed the entire temple, its students, and luke too, under bens impression. believing he'd murdered his uncle, ben ran. and wasn't seen again for some years. Though this divergence is negotiable if Luke rpers would prefer to write the actual canon!

Kylo does NOT kill Snoke. Snoke is the big bad here for me, not sOmeHoW pAlPaTiNe rEtUrNeD. Therefore, Kylo does not become supreme leader. He is so brainwashed by Snoke, that even though he suspects one day Snoke will eliminate him, he is still loyal. Snoke is ALL he knows.

I do not write the dyad as a romantic bond, at least not with rey and ben. their relationship is utterly atrocious, and kylo does exactly to rey what snoke is doing to him. it's manipulative and abusive and is not a good foundation for any relationship. i think they can achieve something akin to siblingship one day. but that's years away after tros.

ben's identity as kylo is only known to VERY FEW, including snoke, some highers up in the first order, and a few in the resistance. it's probably less than 10 people altogether. he NEVER removes his helmet in public for various reasons not related to this post. so if you're unsure whether your muse is or might be one of those 10 or so people, please feel free to ask.

it's honestly not as obvious in the movies as it should be imo, and is not a canon divergence. but it feels like it needs to be said often cus people still want to dismiss this fact in 2023. ben solo is a victim of decades of abuse and manipulation. no, it doesn't excuse his actions, but it gives context and explanation to them. i will never not make this point enough.

annnnd here comes the maybe controversial one. might depend on how well i explain it. han and leia are/were not purposely neglectful parents, nor perfect people...please, keep reading after that sentence. take a step back and think about it in terms of real adult life, okay. both of them are important people. leia is a senator. it would literally be impossible for her to be around all the time for ben. you simply cannot be a person that powerful and have a well balanced family dynamic. han, on the other hand, we know canonically was ben's primary caregiver for 6 years, which is a hot win, imo. stay at home dad, excellent. but he, too, eventually goes back to training pilots at the academy because it's what he's good at, and he deserves to continue it. i am in NO WAY saying that han and leia are bad people or parents. far from it. I've no doubt they tried endlessly, and they still are, even with ben falling to the dark side. they're just doing normal things that adults do. just because you have a child does not mean you stop being a person. BUT their busy adult lives paved the way for Snoke to move in and do what he wanted with Ben, which was to slowly turn him against them and make him believe he was unwanted and unloved by them. and that's not han and leia's fault, they didn't know what was going on. Ben was a child, and Snoke was an abuser that easily slipped through the cracks because he couldn't be seen. i realise this also wasn't really a canon divergence, but it needs to be said some more.

#pinned post.#i'm probably going to edit and add more at some point #i'm committing sacrilege here probably #but eh #ii. HEADCANON. 🌓

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another-corpo-rat · 1 year

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Dress For The Job You Want

A discussion with the lovely @merge-conflict put this idea in my head, and learning that their dear Valentine is a gremlin at heart was something I absolutely had to subject Victoria to (she deserves it tbh)

Incredibly minor Adam Smasher/OC at the end Summary: Victoria chooses fashion, Valentine chooses violence. (Valentine ofc belongs to @merge-conflict, ty for trusting me with your gremlin and helping me think of a way to end this!)

There’s a time for delicate words, when nerves are frayed and tempers are rising, fingers on triggers and daemons primed to bite – knowing what to say and when to say it was an important skill in the life of a suit. It could mean the difference between life and death. But this? This was not one of those times.

This was an insult against any higher power that might bear witness. It was certainly scalding the back of her own eyes, threatening to blind her. It would be a mercy if it succeeded.

“What,” she starts, tongue heavy with sincerity, “the actual fuck are you wearing?” Her tone has their attending salesman take a small step back, cowering somewhat as they hunch their shoulders and try to seem occupied as they scroll through the datapad of everything else they have in stock. There’s a tremble to their fingers, notable as they move quickly across the screen. And Valentine, the target of her ire, the individual currently dressed like a sentient traffic cone, grins brightly as she outstretches her arms and does a little spin – without needing prompted this time.

As if she was proud of the abomination she had conjured and its too many shades of orange and- dear God. Was that a sequin belt?

“I quite like it.” The other states, that grin taking on a distinct shit-eating quality as she regards herself in the full-body mirror. It gets wider when she meets Victoria’s dour expression, catching the none too subtle twitch of her left eye and the disgusted curl of painted lips.

“It’s…it’s certainly bold—” Any attempt of praise from the sales-jockey, desperate as it was to find something vaguely positive, is stopped by a sharp gesture of Victoria’s hand, fingers making a soft ting as they snap against the metal of her palm.

“There’s a thick line between boldness and stupidity. And you have...” Another cast of her golden gaze, eyes clawing through Valentine’s attire for the smallest thing that could perhaps be savoured. She found none. “soundly pole-vaulted across it, my dear. Next.”

Her glare is focused steadily, line-of-sight broken only when the curtain of the changing room is pulled across. A glimpse of the glint in Valentine’s eye promising to turn a mild headache into a migraine. Ugh, another self-chosen outfit then.

Curtain closed, her gaze and ire turn to the man standing beside the rail of clothing they had requested. A majority of it were her own picks, fashionable enough pieces that quietly demanded attention through the mere act of stepping into a room, but now that she’s looking she can spot more atrocious colours and materials that were most certainly not her choice.

She absolutely should not have handed Valentine the tablet to pick out a few for herself, it was the other’s lack of basic knowledge that convinced her this trip was necessary in the first place. “We need to have a thorough discussion about what you offer your clients.”

“I am currently removing the pieces that they were…kind enough to model for us.” Ah, that explains the hurry to his actions. He clicks through a few more things on the tablet, brow furrowing at what she guesses was an infestation of terrible stock choices. “Last spring’s obsession with orange was a mistake, to put it lightly.”

“A blessedly short-lived one.” A disaster she had the sense to side-step. She’ll stick to her whites and golds, thank you very much.

A sharp laugh comes from behind the curtain, the loud ‘Ha!’ has Victoria pre-emptively pinching the bridge of her nose even before Valentine throws the heavy fabric to the side with a gusto she certainly didn’t have for the earlier outfits. She closes her eyes against the sight that is certain to be blindingly horrific. The sharp intake of the man assures her it was the correct decision.

“I don’t even want to look at you.”

“Why not? I think this one really compliments my complexion.”

“So would coating you in tar and feathers.” Rubbing at her temple, she chances a look up and— “It suits you.” She admits begrudgingly and apparently to Valentine’s surprise, that smug grin loses a little bit of tooth.

“What?” She can see the other’s shoulders lowering, a little edge of disappointment seeping in from the lack of violent disgust. Valentine considers herself in the mirror, hands on hips as she evaluates her choice of mixing a spotted yellow-green shirt with pink-blue striped slacks. She meets Victoria’s narrowed stare through the reflection as she presses, “Really?”

“Yes, you absolute clown.”

And the terrible grin comes back in full, dragging a headache along with it.

God help her, she booked them for an entire afternoon of private fittings.

It wasn’t often that Victoria allowed herself to look so openly defeated; curled loosely into the corner of the settee with hazy eyes, half sunken into its shitty cushions with the mere act of lifting the cigarette to her lips seeming tiresome, heavy in an effort she was extending out of habit than any true want.

“Victoria.” She blinks at the low tone of her name, looking up to the behemoth of a ‘borg towering over her. “You look like shit.” She knows she does; she can’t even argue for the sake of being contrarian, so she sighs and quietly accepts his astute observations as she turns to press herself deeper into the horrid cushion she had claimed.

At that, Adam’s tone becomes sharper, demanding; “What the fuck happened?”

“Valentine happened.”

“Ah.” And that’s all he offers on the topic of her, or at least all he does for now – his own rants about Hanako’s new little pet were a dime a dozen when he was in a mood himself. The settee dips and groans dramatically under his weight. “I’ll be sure to think of you when I kill her.”

She manages the slightest twitch of her lips at the easy promise, neither of them bringing up his failure to do so in Mikoshi. “Thank you, love.”

#cyberpunk 2077 #cyberpunk oc #corpo v #TWO corpo Vs technically!#double the trouble #fic tag #my writing #Victoria Crane #Valentine #the moment i learned Val had no fashion sense #i knew Vic would need to suffer through it #next time Val fucks up somehow Vic is gonna leave a clown nose on her desk #one that honks #ship: nfwmb

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lostwords-found · 2 years

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💛🦋🎁

(From this list)

💛 What is the most impactful lesson you’ve learned about writing?

I had a prof who would frequently say: "Perfect is the enemy of finished," and honestly I need to emblazon that on the backs of my hands where I can see it every time I'm typing. I am very good at getting hung up on details, and very bad at finishing things, and these two facts are not unconnected. But while I realize it's, uh, largely not yet visible on the fanfic side of my writing life (I say, glancing at Quis Custodiet and Afterimage 😓) I have gotten a lot stronger at finding my way through to the ends of projects over the last few years, and learning to loosen up and let a story be a complete mess while I'm finding my way through it has been vital to that.

🦋 Which character is your favorite to write?

*points at icon.* Shocking... probably absolutely no one, that bastard. There's just something about Joshua's particular brand of terrible that I really adore playing with.

🎁 Have a piece of a WIP you want to share?

Sure! Here's a... probably upcoming bit from Quis Custodiet:

A voice, middle-aged and masculine and stern, entirely without humor, spoke from behind him: "You find something amusing in your current circumstances, Yoshiya?"

The hum died in Joshua's throat.

Before he could consider his response, a hand, solid and human and physical and used to commanding full obedience from all it touched, caught the back of his collar and hauled him unceremoniously upright on the couch. "Sit up straight," the too-familiar voice ordered. "Feet off the furniture--" and before he could even think about whether or not to obey that directive, an unseen blast of energy cracked against his shin, knocking his foot off the table. "Since when did you show such disrespect before your superiors?"

Joshua did not immediately answer. His body was too busy gritting his teeth shut on its thoughts about the unexpected strike to his leg, and his mind was too busy spinning between: This has to be a trick, and: If this is a trick, some angel has their act down well.

The hand tightened on his collar, warning. "Well? Have you lost your tongue, or forgotten how to speak? Who taught you such atrocious manners?"

And there was something--focusing, in that tightening grip, that let Joshua snap out of his momentary daze and back to himself. He almost laughed. These angels, they were better opponents than he'd been giving them credit for; this was downright inspired. Whether it was real or a very well-executed fake didn't at this point matter, and perhaps the infuriating uncertainty of that would be a blessing, in a way. It would give him a puzzle to work on, as they tried to unravel him.

"I don't know," he said, and twisted awkwardly, pulling against the cloth of his shirt where it was currently bunched in the new arrival's fist. It wasn't a particularly dignified move, but he needed to look this one in the eyes, needed to see. "Who in the world thought it would be a good idea to make you an angel, father?"

---

Thank you for the ask!

#fic writer ask game #asks answered #quis custodiet #fic excerpt #writing

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theroomofreq · 3 years

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can you give me muggle jily recs pleaaseeee <3 :D

HOW MANY HIGH-QUALITY MUGGLE JILY FICS ARE THERE?? TOO MANY TO COUNT. *cracks knuckles* BUT I am here for the challenge. Jily AUs are my JAM.

Again, shoutout to our amazing @jilyarchive friends who tag every wonderful muggle jily au they come across. here is the link that will take you to their tags page. You'll find links to specific tropes and AUs :')

I've searched through my own AO3 bookmarks and history tabs, and I present to you 28 jily muggle fics that I LOVE. I am THRILLED thinking about all the good things in store for those that read these wonderful stories. This list took me ages to make because I went through and reread most of these brilliant fics. Happy reading !! xx

properly improper by @lizardcookie

“Marry me,” Mr. Potter repeats, closing the distance between them by striding back up towards the sofa, only to stop and crouch to one knee right there at her feet, looking up at her. Burning. “Pick me,” he elaborates. “Pick me, choose me, love me instead.”

- this fic is the reason why I comment the way that I do (spoiler it's because it's amazing)

The Wedding Ring by @mppmaraudergirl

What is undeniably worse than attending your sister's wedding looking as desolate and forgotten as a wilted houseplant? Drunkenly ringing your ex-boyfriend and asking him to be your date.

- SOBS UNCONTROLLABLY AT THE PERFECTION

Oh my god, they were ROOMMATES by @magic-girl-in-a-muggle-world

Silly one-shot, Muggle AU with Fem!Jily as pining roommates and Marlene as their matchmaker.

- the fic that brought me back to jily and inspired my deep obsession of fem!jily

Swipe Right, Swing Left by @downn-in-flames

The unspoken rule of using dating apps in D.C. is that you always start with where you work.

James Potter, it seems, never picked up on that one.

- giddy just thinking about this gem

'Tis the Damn Season by @petalstofish

It doesn't feel like Christmas for Lily Evans, not after losing her parents to COVID before the Holiday season. She anticipates spending Christmas all alone until a boy from her past shows up and offers her a mutually benefiting deal that has her calling him 'babe' just for the weekend. 'Tis the damn season, after all.

- cries in respect for lyrical writing

Watch Me Unwind by @maraudersftw

Lily Evans hates her job, hates the bigoted customers she has to serve as a bartender at the richest club in the city. But the one person who makes bearing all of it worth it has someone else in his arms tonight. (Rated: M)

- obsessed with the way the plot jumps around the time line in this

oil be there for you by @abby10fanfic

Texting/Social Media AU: Lily and James haven't spoken for 2 years. But that's all about to change thanks to Peter and his involvement in an essential oil pyramid scheme. Featuring boss babes, toxin-free lifestyles, binding contracts, and a very oily journey.

- YOU WOULD NOT BELIEVE HOW FAB THIS IS

a matchmaking mission by @downn-in-flames

James Potter has a mission: get Sirius Black and Remus Lupin to finally admit that they both fancy the pants off each other by Valentine's Day.

His partner in crime? Lily Evans, Remus' flatmate, who he also happens to be slightly in love with

- DOUBLE the amount of pining idiots in love :")

about time by @jilyss

'sure, yeah, I can accompany you to that black tie event for your work tonight. wait. why are we on a red carpet?'

- this is my emotional comfort fic, your honor

whiskey business by @elanev91

Sirius Black has a (bad?) habit of picking up hobbies that take over his and James' flat -- this most recent one? Homemade vodka that James now has to try and peddle to everyone in the building.

- hysterical! must read!

Fashion Disaster by @maraudersftw

James Potter is roped into an awful dare by his best-mate, which involves him wearing atrocious pieces of clothing for all days until Christmas as dictated by Sirius. If this wasn't terrible enough, he now has to contend with his maddening crush on the beautiful saleswoman at the clothing store.

- classic hijinks that I live for

it wasn't a pity invite by @elanev91

Part of the December "Winter Tropes" Jily challenge. Prompt: my family invites you to join our holiday meal as an obvious setup and omG i’m so sorry

- awkward Christmas date that owns my heart

spice and honey by @clare-with-no-i

tagging along with her food reporter sister to profile James Potter, London's hottest young chef, is not how Lily Evans pictured her Monday going - especially if he's anything like Petunia’s described.

needless to say, she's in for a whirlwind at Chez Maraudeur.

- I'm one re-read away from printing this out and putting it on my bookshelf.

Waffle Wars by @elanev91

There's only one waffle maker in the dining hall and it literally always breaks. So, naturally, the only reasonable course of action is to meticulously map out when it's working and, ultimately, do a heist.

- the witty narration in this fic can not be matched

You Can Hear It In The Silence by @alrightginger

Lily is non-verbal and deaf in a world where the things your soulmate says about you end up written on your skin. She has known about her soulmate since she was seven, but knows they don't have a clue she exists and possibly never will.

- exquisite, cue me sobbing forever

out the window by @displayheartcode

A new family moves to Ottery St Catchpole.

- everything I could ever want in a fic, forever in my mind rent free

The Christmas Guest by @thegodmachine

An Evans Family Christmas: Petunia is bringing her fiancé and Lily is bringing her…Friend…

- petunia pov that gives me WINGS

Football, Calculus, and Cappuccinos by @moonawrites

At eighteen years old, James Potter has a lot going on. He's a rising star navigating the politics of professional football, the pitfalls of sudden fame, the fallout from choosing his dream over his father's company... and a serious crush on the red headed new barista at his favourite coffee shop.

- I'm still working my way through this fic, but trust me when I say its a GEM

if u like pina coladas by @zephyrcove

Lily is desperate for a date to Petunia's wedding, James has been pining, and their friends meddle ;)

- explain to me how characters can be so perfect via texting fics?

Shelf Awareness by @ghostofbambifanfiction

It's too far out of her way and she's wasting so much money, but Lily can't help but return to the bookstore every weekend, where her passion for good literature has, perhaps, been unexpectedly reignited by the messy-haired, pun-making, rather handsome bloke who works there.

- you absolutely must know that I binge read this and then immediately REREAD it

How to win a witch in 10 days by @adenei

“She’s going to find some unsuspecting wizard, get him to fall for her, and then do all the things that turn men away to get him to break things off! Won’t it be the best way to see what witches do that drives men crazy?” But what happens when the man in question is a blast from Lily Evans's past? A Jily Magical AU based on the romantic comedy "How to Lose a Guy in 10 Days."

- fic based off of a rom com? YES PLZ :’)

The Fight Before Christmas by @ghostofbambifanfiction

The heartwarming Christmas tale of Lily Evans and James Potter - two plucky kids who hated one other, until the day they really, really didn't.

- complete sucker for this one

All This Time by @thejilyship

James and Lily grew up next door to one another. Their bedroom windows giving them glimpses into the others life, and also offering prime opportunities to argue with each other over every little thing. They never figured out how to be friends when they were kids, but now that they've graduated from college and are home for the summer, they have a second chance to get things right.

- one of my favvvv tropes

Let Me Love You by @thejilyship

With only a month until she's set to take the throne of Gryffindor, Lily is informed that she'll have to get married or choose to give up her throne. She never thought she'd have to even entertain the idea of an arranged marriage. Enter, James Potter.

- cries in princess diares AU

The Fabulous Baker Brothers by @frustratedpoetwrites

Lily walks a different route home from work and stumbles upon a cute little Bakery with an even cuter baker in the window.

- yes yes yes to embarrassed pining.

Marigold Mornings by @mppmaraudergirl

This is a fun game she thinks, as she removes her hand from his side and reaches up to run it down his chest. He catches her hand in his own, takes a step forward so that her nose nearly brushes against his shirt. She can feel the heat radiating off of him—or maybe it’s from her. He licks his lips and her eyes are drawn to the motion. She knows it is a bad idea, absolutely knows it.

- incredible storytelling featuring dynamic characters :') a favvv

Welcome to Pettyville by@women-inthe-sequel @alrightginger

When Lily Evans accidentally sends a text to the wrong number, she isn’t expecting to find the right person behind it. She can’t stop talking to Prongs. The only thing is, Prongs can’t stop talking about the girl in his class. What could go wrong, other than the number?

- LOVE SQUARE ANYONE

The Kiss a Stranger Project by @alrightginger

“What’s your name, then?” she asks, realizing they haven’t even properly introduced themselves yet. She nervously crosses her arms.

You shouldn’t kiss a guy without knowing his name first.

Right?

- THIS ONE WILL LIVE IN MY MIND FOREVER

#ror reqs #jily fic #mugge fic recs #jily fic rec list

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lilydalexf · 4 years

Photo

Old School X is a project interviewing X-Files fanfic authors who were posting fic during the original run of the show. New interviews are posted every Tuesday.

Interview with MustangSally

MustangSally has 33 stories at Gossamer. Even if you haven’t read it, you’ve probably heard of at least one of them, Iolokus, since it’s an X-Files fanfic classic. All her fics hit big and are well worth your time. I’ve recced some of my favorites here before, including And Dance by the Light of the Moon, All the Children are Insane, and Iolokus. Big thanks to MustangSally for doing this interview.

What's the story behind your pen name?

I could tell you but then I would have to kill you.

Does it surprise you that people are still interested in reading your X-Files fanfics and others that were posted during the original run of the show (1993-2002)?

Yes and no. Yes, because life has moved on since the early nineties and the characters and the fans are in vastly different places now. Our current tech would make the premise of the X-Files impossible. No, because of the longevity of some of the Star Trek TOS work (there’s an archive of hard copy fanzines at the University of Iowa). Top-drawer authors started out in TOS fandom.

I’m just greatly saddened that my physical body is showing wear and tear while the fic doesn’t. Fic gets to stay smooth-skinned and muscular, captured at the peak of perfection.

What do you think of when you think about your X-Files fandom experience? What did you take away from it?

At the risk of sounding atrociously trite, I think of the friends I made. I met some very remarkable women that I’ve been able to stay friends with online for over twenty-five years. We may have moved to Facebook and post entirely too much about our pets and which of our body parts has sagged this week, but we’re friends. It’s a furiously funny, feminist, and well-educated group of women with jobs in the highest levels of academia, finance, communications, and media. I’m amused by the fact that if I have a question about how a virus replicates, I can ask a PhD I’ve been drunk with in Las Vegas.

Back in the day, I had a job that sent me traveling around major cities in the US and UK. I could post on a message board and within ten minutes there were people I could go out for dinner and drinks with. We already knew we had something we could talk about for at least a couple of hours. Additionally, most of these people were women so there was an added level of security. Social media didn't really exist during the show's original run. How were you most involved with the X-Files online (atxc, message board, email mailing list, etc.)?

Well, it was mostly atxc and the Yahoo! groups mailing lists that spiraled out into Geocities sites and, eventually, LiveJournal. The amusing thing is that getting in on the ground floor of social media and the Internet has helped me get jobs! When I look at a new piece of software, I think, ‘this is hella easier than uploading to Geocities.’ We had to walk uphill both ways, in the snow, on dial-up, fighting off dinosaurs with our AOL CDs while writing HTML code. What did you take away from your experience with X-Files fic or with the fandom in general?

DO NOT FEED THE TROLLS.

The past four years in politics have basically been the ugliest online kerfuffle the world has ever seen. I survived the Shipper Wars of ’96 and I thought those were brutal, but that was NOTHING. The only way to win an argument online is to not have the argument at all. Arguing with a troll is like mudwrestling a pig: You both get filthy and only the pig is happy.

Also, READ THE FUCKING TERMS OF SERVICE.

What was it that got you hooked on the X-Files as a show?

I had the most terrible straight-girl crush on Scully. I wanted to be her best friend, I wanted to BE her. I wanted to order Chinese food and paint each other’s nails and talk about bones. Scully and Princess Leia and I could all just hang out poolside with hot and cold running waiters and poolboys, drink margaritas, and bitch about how unfair it all was – if the stupid men would just get OUT OF THE WAY AND LET US DO OUR JOBS, the world would be so much better. What got you involved with X-Files fanfic?

This question is really about Iolokus, isn’t it? You can’t fool me. [Lilydale note: I can neither confirm nor deny the motivation for this question, but I cannot complain about the answer.]

Simply put, I was enraged. The moment it was revealed that Scully’s ova had been used in experimentation, I lost my feminist mind. It was the most obscene defilement imaginable. Scully wasn’t nearly as angry as I was. What I thought needed to happen was for Scully to become a fiery force of vengeance against the MEN who had done this to her. Clearly, I was not going to get that level of satisfaction from the show, as I was imagining Kali-like carnage on a global scale. I emailed RivkaT (whom I did not know well at that point) with a proposition that we work together. Strangely enough, we didn’t meet face to face until we were well into the project, but we did talk on the phone quite a bit. The rules were simple – everyone had to be punished in truly horrific ways, and at some point, we had to see if we could write a car chase (only because that seemed impossible). Then it basically turned into a very twisted game of chicken to see who could be the most outrageous in terms of killing people off or writing really horrific things that fit within the structure of the narrative. I did, in the end, write the car chase, but RivkaT one-upped me by throwing in a helicopter (a FOX News helicopter, at that).

Really, RivkaT? A helicopter? What is your relationship like now to X-Files fandom? I am terribly proud of what I wrote, pleased that it brought pain and pleasure in equal amount to people, and, again, thrilled by the people I became friends with. I admit that I stopped watching the show when Scully announced her pregnancy. I could only see a long jump over a shark tank for the rest of the series. I haven’t watched the new episodes, either. It is complete in my mind and doesn’t need to be continued. I wouldn’t say no to having a reunion with some of my fic friends, although we’re still chatting online like everyone does. Were you involved with any fandoms after the X-Files? If so, what was it like compared to X-Files?

Rivka and I wrote in the Buffy fandom for a few years, but then we moved on to real adult jobs that left absolutely no time for me to write. I’m in education, and I regularly sweat blood for fear that someone is going to find my old fic. The Buffy people were fun; there was a certain *shininess* to them that I really enjoyed. The X-men authors were just batshit and delightful, and some amazing stuff came out of Marvel fandom, particularly in the Thor/Loki and Steve/Bucky subgenres. I’ve learned to appreciate a good coffee shop AU and one famous Erik/Charles fic where all the main characters are crabs. Seriously, crabs—it’s hysterical. [Lilydale note: Other Crabs Cannot Be Trusted by groovyphilia currently has almost 2,500 kudos at AO3.]

Every few years, I’ll have a student try to explain to me what fandom is and I just smirk. Do you ever still watch The X-Files or think about Mulder and Scully? No. Not really. Do you ever still read X-Files fic? Fic in another fandom? I fell into an X-Men hole a few years back and had a great old time wallowing in the Cherik muck, and there was a flirtation with BBC Sherlock as well. Strangely enough, I became interested in A/B/O fics only because of what they were saying about the role of women in our society. The limitations on the male omegas seem absurd and then you realize those are the same limitations put on women all. the. time.

Is there a place online (tumblr, twitter, AO3, etc.) where people can find you and/or your stories now?

RivkaT very nicely formatted everything and put it up on AO3. What is your favorite of your own fics, X-Files and/or otherwise?

I will always be stupidly proud of how shocked and horrified people were by Iolokus. The truth of the matter is that Iolokus has Greek drama at its core. Scully is Medea, and the entire story is lousy with “blood on the threshing floor” and Dionysian rites. The everyday is subverted into horror, and wives and daughters will tear men limb from limb like the Maenads. Since I was ultimately disappointed with what Chris Carter did with the entire show, that approach seemed appropriate.

At a certain level, all fic is corrective fic. Like critic Anne Jamison said, “Irritated fans produce fanfic like irritated oysters produce pearls.” And because fic has fallen so much into women’s sphere, a pure form of correction is not just the death of the author but the MURDER, a new creation springing up from the spilled blood like Cadmus sowing dragon’s teeth.

Okay, that’s a bit much. Maybe I should just take myself back to the isle of Goth Amazons or something. Do you still write fic now? Or other creative work?

I had to write a self-evaluation and a reflection on pedagogy today. If that’s not fiction, I don’t know what the fuck is.

All my creativity is caught up in trying to pretend to be a normal middle-aged white woman so no one knows I am really a lizard.

Is there anything else you'd like to share with fans of X-Files fic?

Keep writing, keep reading, keep fighting the commercialization of narratives. As things grow more and more commodified, all our dreams and desires reduced to tchotchkes made in China, it’s a revolutionary act to separate your work from the marketplace. Be bold, take chances, turn the trope on its ear and kick it in the ass. Take everything the creators have done to make a work palatable to the unwashed masses and set it on fire.

Be subversive.

Be mean.

Have a great fucking time.

(Posted by Lilydale on March 2, 2021)

#old school x #xfiles fanfic #xf fanfic #xf fanfic author interviews #mustangsally

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hufflautia · 4 years

Text

Believe me darling, the stars were made for falling

Hello! I didn’t expect to post this “fanfic” because I didn’t write it specifically for fanfiction, if that makes sense. Today, (well it is technically tomorrow for you or perhaps you’re not viewing this on the day that I posted it. today is 12/11 (technically its 12/12 because its 1:39 AM rn lmao i did my makeup and it took longer than expected)) my creative writing teacher told us to write a short piece for a character that I created for the class. I wrote it and I thought about posting it because I liked the idea of it, and I felt as though the main character had slytherin vibes. I also really like the ending, and I wanted to share it with others.

This is not a typical slytherpuff story. It has no magic involved. Slytherin and Hufflepuff are normal people like you and me, aka muggles (or maybe you’re not a muggle( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°) who knows?). The story has nothing to do with Harry Potter. Thus, I am creating another section for my masterlist and it will be labeled “somefink special” because its not technically harry potter related. However, it will always have Hufflepuff and Slytherin in it, because I made sure to change the names from the original character. Stories like this is just a work of art that I would like to share with others, so I think of it as somefink special (and somefink is not an actual word, its supposed to be “something” but i just think the spelling is funny). I’m not sure if I will post more stuff like this, as in stuff that doesn’t relate to harry potter but still has my usual characters. Heck, perhaps I’ll write fanfics like this but for other character ships like Slytherin x Ravenclaw or the other ones. We shall see.

Anyways, this “quick” author’s note is running a little long, so I will end it here. I hope you guys enjoy reading this! TOODELOO

FYI, this is not my “monthly” fanfic. In other words, this isn’t the only fanfic that I will be posting for december. I will still be posting The Queen and the Dragon soon (around Christmas). I am almost done with the college process, I need to revise some of my essays and I will finally submit it. After that, I will continue writing the long story. I am currently stuck at a difficult scene that will require a lot of thinking, hence the delay. OK BYE NOW, THIS IS THE FOR-REALSIES TOODELOO :D!

***WARNINGS: Drug abuse, addiction, and suicidal thoughts

Summary: Slytherin is hanging out with her favorite person in the entire world: Hufflepuff, her darling little sister. They lay beneath the stars, comfortable silence drifting upon them like a soft blanket that wraps around them, keeping them safe from outside forces that threaten their moment of contentment. This small pocket of tranquility is rare—and Slytherin knows this. She knows it all too well. As if on cue, it breaks into shattered pieces when she overhears their parents arguing. Again. Dread stealing her breath, a familiar urge rises once more, an urge that is more destructive than she realizes. She wishes the overwhelming feeling of anxiety would go away. And it could—with the help of a couple of pills.

Slytherin smiled, a feeling of mirth warming her heart when she saw the smile plastered on her sister’s face as they laid on their backs against the porch floor, staring up at the stars. She took a hold of Hufflepuff’s hand, her touch slightly sweaty but cold at the same time. She didn’t mind and merely gave it a light squeeze. A cool night breeze blew past them, the wind’s touch like gentle kisses against their skin.

This was nice. This was really nice. Slytherin hardly had any time for herself this week, because she was busy with exam after exam, stress piling on top of her before she could even take a breath of air. To her relief, the burdens finally lifted because it was Saturday, and she didn’t have to worry about school. She was with her sister, and that was all she needed. In fact, she was so comfortable and content that she didn’t even think about the drugs. A pestilent part of her, the part that was created the moment she swallowed the white pill down her throat, urged her to go inside. To walk nonchalantly towards the bathroom with a pace that was fast enough so that she would get to where she wanted to go quickly but slow enough to not attract any attention. To snatch her mom’s bottle of Xanax and hurry to her own room, making sure to lock the door before sitting on her bed. To pop the drug into her mouth and allow the artificial feeling of euphoria to overtake her.

But that destructive part of her settled down, for she was with the person she loved most. Their surroundings dark enough to see the hazy glow of the stars above, they laid there, gazing upon the night sky. Aside from the soft rustling of the trees nearby and the occasional giggles that spilled from her sister’s mouth because that’s just how 10-year-olds were, it was quiet and peaceful.

But like most things, it didn’t last for long.

“You fucking asshole!”

Through the walls, Slytherin could hear her mother’s muffled words, her tone hot and angry. Whenever her parents argued, they would spit curse words out like poison, the dreadful toxin targeted at each other with the intent to kill and destroy.

She sighed. For once, just for once, why couldn’t things be normal? She desperately wished that the comfortable silence that drifted upon them could come back, and she would gladly welcome it with open arms.

However, she felt Hufflepuff squeeze her hand, and she knew that the peace that she had known a few minutes ago would not return. Not for a while. Squeezing her hand was a nervous habit of Hufflepuff’s—a habit that Slytherin was well aware of. Even if she tried her very best to shield her darling sibling from the atrociousness of their home-life, it was essentially impossible.

Her sister was young and so terribly innocent. If she could, she would take all the pain that Hufflepuff endured from living in a dysfunctional household and pour it into herself. That way, she wouldn’t have to suffer.

But this wasn’t a fairy tale. Slytherin didn’t have magical powers to take their suffering away. She couldn’t give her sister the happy ending that she deserved. This was reality, and they would just have to endure this for a while.

“I’ll be right back,” she whispered before opening the porch door and stepping into the dungeon that she called home. Dread seemed to choke her as she neared her parents’ room, inhaling sharply at the sound of shouts that seemed to boom from the walls.

Gingerly turning the knob of their door, she peeked inside. Tears trickled down her mother’s face, her slightly red eyes ablaze with anger. “I can’t believe you would cheat on me again!”

Her dad started to mutter something lowly but she cut him off. “Do you have any idea how much this affects me,” she said in disbelief. “How much this affects your children?”

She suddenly caught sight of Slytherin, who immediately felt a sinking feeling in her chest when she was caught lurking. The feeling intensified when her mom walked towards her.

Slytherin immediately withdrew and tried to close the door but her mom opened it enough to fixate the full force of her anger onto her daughter. “Why can’t you mind other people’s business,” she hissed before slamming the door shut, leaving her in complete darkness.

There it was. The breaking point. Her face contorted into a grimace as she tried to will the tears away. Her sadness quickly morphed into annoyance. “I hate her,” she thought angrily as she walked to her room. “She’s gonna wish she didn’t say that when she finds me dead on the fucking floor.” Her chest heaved with sorrow and a torrent of emotions clashed within her. A million thoughts zoomed through her head. Fucking bitch, I fucking hate you. I hate everything. I wish I was never born into this family. I hate my parents, I hate my mom, I hate my dad. Why the fuck did he have to cheat? Were we not enough?

She was frustrated and resentful, but most of all, she was broken inside. She needed to calm the raging storm of anxiety within her—and she knew exactly what to do.

Hiding the bottle of Xanax in her pocket, she walked towards her room. Just as she was opening her door, she felt someone close their hand over her wrist. She looked back and saw Hufflepuff, who looked at her with furrowed brows.

“Are you coming back,” she asked in a small voice.

Slytherin swallowed with difficulty. If things had gone differently, she would have gone back to the porch with her sister and continued their night of stargazing. If her parents weren’t completely psychos whose hate for each other shook the household, she wouldn’t be addicted to the drugs that controlled her life.

“I have homework to do,” she responded. “Ask Gryffindor to go outside with you, okay?”

Her sister nodded and started her way to their other sister who decided not to join them on the porch because she had cooler 13-year old things to do.

Slytherin watched her retreating figure before closing the door and twisting the lock in a flash. She exhaled slowly as she took a seat on the edge of her bed.

“Finally,” she breathed out in a whisper as she uncapped the bottle, gently shaking it so that a couple of tablets spilled out onto her hand. She had never taken so much, and she knew that as she poked the contents with a finger. But she needed this. Her family—more specifically, her parents—were fucked up, and there was nothing she could do about it. She couldn’t fix her father’s constant infidelity. She couldn’t control her mother’s temper. Hell, she couldn’t even take hold of her own life, for the white rectangular capsules held the reins, the power. And she would gladly let it take control. Just for a little while longer.

Slytherin tossed the pills into her mouth and took a sip of water to ease them down her throat. She fell back onto her bed with her arms spread out on either side of her, forming a crooked ‘T’ shape. As she stared up at the ceiling, a blissful smile slid onto her face.

She could see the stars again.

Comments and reblogs are a writer’s gold!

MASTERLIST ; sometimes links don’t appear on posts. if you can’t see the link linked to “MASTERLIST”, the masterlist itself is pinned to the top of my blog. check it out if you haven’t already :D

Author’s note: HELLO AGAIN! I hope you enjoyed reading that. The story is dark and sad, so I will include some wholesome pictures to rid you of the lingering sadness that you might be feeling right now.

you can probably tell that i’m a dog person lmao :’) I hope you are feeling better! I am not sure if I will turn this into a series; there is a chance I will because I will have to continue writing stories in english class for this character. i actually have another story for the character (her name is Faye) and idk if I should post it. Let me know if you want me to release it!

Did anyone else feel slytherin vibes from... well, slytherin? Technically it’s Faye, but I changed the name for the purpose of posting. In my opinion, the slytherin in her is presented in the fact that she cares a lot about her sister, aka Hufflepuff, and slytherins typically care a lot about those close to them. it was also shown in the sense that she isolates herself, but then again, anyone can isolate themself, regardless of their hogwarts house. maybe im just overthinking this. After all, if I had changed the name from Faye to Hufflepuff, that could still work as well.

In fact, I might even change the names sometimes, depending on what is happening in that moment. Faye is pansexual, and I was talking to my friend about the story, and she said maybe she’ll get a gf, so maybe ill keep Faye’s name as Slytherin and have Hufflepuff (DIFFERENT HUFFLEPUFF FROM THE LITTLE SISTER OF COURSE) be the girlfriend?? idk, we’ll see.

Anyways, let me know what you thought of this fanfic. Should I do more like this, as in post my future works that arent actually related to harry potter but is set in the real world?

OH GOSH BEFORE I FORGET, THANK YOU FOR 700!! I guess this will be my thank you present, because I like to write fanfics as a present whenever I hit a follower mark. I intended The Queen and The Dragon to be the thank-you present for 600, but we are well past that, and the fanfic is long overdue. I had planned to change the fanfic to “thank you for 700” but i plan on posting it near christmas, so i will consider it as a “MERRY CHRISTMAS, HERES A FANFIC:D”.

As always, I appreciate you very very much. Thank you for reading this and being caring enough to do so. I appreciate that very very very much, and I am sending you some gucci vibes! It is currently 2:34 am and i should get some sleep. goodnight! love you all! BYE

TAGS:

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shadowthief78 · 3 years

Text

Lucky Star

(GN!Reader/Diluc)

He's never seen someone as carefree as you. You laugh until your stomach aches, steal apples for their orchards and sips of wine from any unattended glasses in the tavern, dance until your shoes split beneath the moonlight. You toss your life fast and loose like a pair of dice, betting, betting, always betting on the gods's favor and always winning it despite the lack of a Vision.

Some call it foolishness, some call it luck, but all he knows is that you have something he doesn't.

You first meet one frosty autumn day amids the bare apple trees. He stops in the space between rows, stares up at you, silhouetted agains the gray-white sky and framed by the spindly black branches.

You ignore him, only reaching up to snatch another frostbitten apple from the tree. Yesterday, he could have been certain that the only fruit left was rotten and riddles with worms, but the one you now hold is shiny and crisp, perfect in all aspects save the light layer of ice on its surface.

"What are you doing?" He asks. You open an eye and glance down.

"Nothing that concerns you," you respond, then close your eye and bite into the apple. He can hear the sharp snap of the flesh. It makes him hungry - breakfast was too long ago and lunch is too far away.

"I live here?" He says.

"Don't sound so certain now, do you?" You say, then pluck a stray leaf, twirl it in your fingers, and let it drop. You aren't even looking at him, staring into Dragonspine in the distance.

"I live here," he says, without a tremor in his voice this time. "You're eating our apples."

"Someone's got to," you tell him. "They'll go bad otherwise. And isn't the harvest done? I though people in Mondstadt are supposed to let wanderers like me pick through the leftovers."

He can't argue with you because you're right, as long as he can remember his father has let anyone who wishes to pick the fields after a harvest. He settles for sputtering indignantly, "You might hurt the tree."

"I won't," you say, sounding so certain that he falls silent.

"Aren't you cold?" He says, noticing your worn and patched clothing. He's cold, even wrapped up in a coat. "Do you want to come in?"

"I'm fine. I have to practice," you say. You look at him for the first time. "I'm going there, you know." You point to the mountain. "Dragonspine. I'm going to climb it and see the world from the summit."

If it were anyone else, he would have called their bluff. You, he just nods and accepts your statement. You're going to climb Dragonspine one day and nobody can stop you.

You turn up again the next day, wrapped up in your scrappy cape and napping on top of a few hay bales in the stable. The horses look remarkably unbothered for having a hurricane in human form in their midst, one even nosing your makeshift mattress and nibbling around the edges of your hood.

"I hope you don't mind," the stablehand says to him. "They asked to sleep for the night and it was cold, I couldn't just toss them out. I though Master Crepus wouldn't mind. . ."

Diluc isn't sure to be happy or not. Kaeya laughs at him when he says he's twice met someone who wants to explore Dragonspine later at dinner.

The third time you turn up, it's when he's been called to stop you from splashing in the fountain in the middle of Mondstadt Plaza. It's an unusually warm day in early spring and he hasn't seen hide nor hair of you since the beginning of winter, and a little part of him is grateful you haven't frozen or fallen to your death (your gliding is atrocious), but a larger part wants to ask you why you're still here when a self-proclaimed wanderer like you should already be onto the next city.

"Why, Mister Apples, we meet again," is your greeting to him and the pair of knight trainees behind him. "Been to Dragonspine lately?"

"Nobody goes to Dragonspine during winter," he says. "It's too cold."

You shrug and go back to kicking your feet in the clear water. "Not for me."

"You can't wade in the fountain," he says once he realizes there's no point arguing with you.

"Can too," you counter, hiking your pants up and walking around the fountain in a stiff-legged gait. "See? It's most definitely possible."

One of the knights behind him snickers. Your eyes gleam. "Oh, I'm sorry, I didn't realize you had a condition that doesn't allow you to wade in fountains. My condolences for your loss, Mister Apples. A terrible shame, it is, not being able to wade."

"I can wade in a fountain," he says, grumpy. "And don't call me Apples."

"Mister Apples," you correct. "Why not? You never gave me your name and I do seem to recall you are quite particular about those apples."

"My name is Diluc," he says, then realizes that the way you beam means he's played right into your hands. "And nobody's allowed to wade in this fountain, get out before I have to write you up for it."

You shrug, pick up your bag, and make a beeline to the shallow water near the flowerbeds. He doesn't know what he expected.

The next time your paths cross, he realizes he doesn't know your name. When he asks you smile with your eyes closed, a wide grin streching across your face.

"Why so curious, Master Diluc?" His name is a mockery on your lips. You enjoy polarizing the simple things, double sided words and outright lies falling from your mouth, but they all sound believable and reasonable when you deliver them with your silver tongue.

"It's annoying talking about someont whose name I don't kmow," he says. "You know mine. Don't most people give their names when they meet?"

"Ahh, but I am not most people," you say, tipping your barstool back and sliding a piece across the chessboard. "I am very far from most people in many ways."

"Most people don't want to climb Dragonspine," he says and moves a pawn two spaces forward. "How about this, if I beat you this game you'll tell me your name."

"A wager? I'll warn you, I've never lost on in my life," you say. "And what do I get if I win?"

"An apple," he says, making you laugh.

"Why, is my name not worth more than an apple to you?" You tease. "Very well then, your move," you say, gesturing to the board.

The last time he sees you, you're carrying a sack of potatoes and traipsing around outside despite the rain. He flags you over and pauses. He doesn't know what he meant to say.

"Master Diluc, lord of all apples in Mondstadt," you drawls, filling in the silence for him. "To what do I owe the pleasure? State your business in less than three sentances, I have many responsibilities to finish and not much time to do them."

"Since when have you had responsibities?" He says. You laugh.

"Since I persuaded a merchant to drag me and all my supplies to Dragonspine tomorrow," you say, a touch of genuine pride in your voice. "We leave at dawn."

"Congradulations," he says. "Good luck out there."

"I won't need it," you say. "I'm lucky, and I always have been. You can keep your luck, and borrow some of mine."

"Is this my birthday present?" He ignores rain dripping down his collar and stares at you.

"I am you own personal lucky star, how generous of me," you agree. You heft your potaotes in your arms and nod to the interiour of the tavern. "Looks like they're missing their little princeling."

"I'm not a prince," he says, but he turns arouns and opens the door.

"Happy eighteenth birthday," you say from behind him. "From me, the monarch of misfits and leige of luck, regent of rogues and liars, diety of all who wander."

"A little conceited to give yourself such titles, isn't it?"

You bow, ever elegant even when covered in dirt and carrying starchy lumps covered in rough hemp. "I suspect we won't see each other again for some time, Lord Apples."

"I hope we will sometime," he says, making you smile.

"In that case, until next time, Diluc."

"Dragonspine?" He echoes as the Traveller explains their plans. "Good luck up there. If you run across someone called (Y/N), tell them hello from me."

#genshin impact #diluc ragnvindr #puffin says stuff #drabble #x reader #fanfiction

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tinyyoungblood · 4 years

Text

pillow fort tragedy | peter parker

summary: what do you do when you have the entire compound to yourself? that’s right, you build a gigantic pillow fort with your boyfriend and the two dudes you have to babysit—an enhanced ex-soviet assassin and the god of thunder from outta space. good luck with that.

pairing: peter parker x avenger!reader

warnings: language, fluff, tiny bit of conflict and mention of injury

word count: 2.6 k

a/n: absolute crack fic lmao enjoy! x

* * *

It was another Sunday at the Compound which meant that something completely stupid had to go down at some point. This time, it was a real team effort and Steve would’ve surely been proud to some extent. Only, Steve wasn’t there and if he were, all of this wouldn’t have happened in the first place, which probably would’ve been better for everybody involved. Wherever you looked, miles and miles of pillows and blankets covered what used to be the comfort of their home. Now, it was a new empire.

Turning on the comm in your ear, you continued squeezing through the narrow passage of blankets that were poorly draped over some wobbly chairs and shelves. “Guys? Pete, can you hear me?” No answer. For a second, your back touched a blanket and the whole interior started to wobble, making you hold your breath. Who would’ve thought that a highly trained assassin and an invincible God were absolutely terrible at building something as simple as a pillow fort? Hah, not you.

It all started at 11 a.m. sharp when the others left for a mission that neither you nor Peter were allowed to join, but that wasn’t anything new. The two of you were used to it and almost always found something to occupy your time with. The same thing couldn’t be said for Bucky and Thor though, who were both incredibly offended to be treated like “dense punks”. Dense punks as in Peter and you. But then again, the only reason you both weren’t allowed to tag along was your age.

The former was denied because he kept forgetting to put down the toilet seat despite various warnings on Cap’s side and death threat’s on Nat’s and the latter wasn’t allowed to join because of the smell coming from his room that was almost tearing off the wallpaper in the hallway. They were practically grounded which was hilarious, especially since this was quite a rare combination of team members that the Compound had never witnessed before. So, to break the ice and get properly acquainted, Peter had the revolutionary idea to build a pillow fort with every godforsaken pillow, blanket and bedsheet that the Compound had to offer.

And so it began. Every bed, except for Thor’s because you were almost 100% sure that something lived underneath it, was brutally stripped off its covers and used to build the most atrocious and unsteadiest one of its kind. From the Common room to the elevator, every square meter was covered. Your heart race had honestly never been as high as when you tried to get yourself something to drink after having to dodge every pillow tower on your way to the kitchen. You still managed to end up with a wet shirt and a swollen ankle.

It was honestly all fun and games until the games turned into the mission of their lives. Peter had jokingly commanded them to not let this fort go down, under any circumstances—a stupid thing to say to the Winder Soldier and the King of Asgard. And it wasn’t because of their admirable determination and ambition, no—it was because both of them were stubborn idiots who would never dare lose a game.

And from there on, it kind of went downhill. Things started to escalate, highly expensive items were shattered, people were thrown, pillow fights happened inside the pillow fort—it was awful and you were just glad that nothing had caught on fire yet. Suddenly the subtle ‘click’ in your ear made you halt and you listened carefully. “Y/N? Babe, can you hear me?” Peter’s voice was shaky and you hastily answered. “Yes, I—I can hear you, Peter.” He let out a long sigh, relief flooding over his aching limbs. “Oh, thank god, you’re still alive—Where are you? Are you okay?” You nodded eagerly and looked around. “I’m fine…but I think I’m lost. Actually, I have no idea where I am. The tiles all look the same. Stupid Tony and his stupid monochronic taste in architecture,” you mumbled under your breath and you could hear him chuckle.

“Okay, that’s fine. Your ankle’s still swollen, right? Don’t move it, we’ll come get you. I think I can hear your heartbeat—“ He paused for a moment and you thought he expected some kind of reaction so you hesitantly responded, “…Aww?”

“Hm? No, that—sorry, Thor is holding an inaugural speech and he just started to list off his childhood best friends and one of them, you won’t believe it, is called Bob.” He snickered on the other side of the line and you furrowed your brows. “Bob?” He hummed. “Oh, well. Uhm, anyway, why exactly is Thor holding a speech again?”

“Oh, he just pronounced himself King of Blankard.”

“…Come again?”

“Blankard? Because it’s a pillow fort? But we also used blankets? And Pillowgard just doesn’t have—”

“—the same ring to it. Got it.” You glanced in each direction of the tunnel but it seemed like you were still the only one in this area. “Peter, when are you guys going to get here?” He didn’t respond and the only thing you heard was a slow clap and a whistle. You rolled your eyes. Your boyfriend was cheering for the new King of Blankard so you might as well have to start thinking about ways to fend for yourself once dusk would fall. You heard some shuffling before his voice came back. “Sorry, babe, I just assumed it’s bad manners to interrupt a God while they’re monologuing.”

It wasn’t biologically possible for you to roll your eyes any harder but you made it work.

“Just get here.” You sighed and he smooched a kiss into your ear. Your ankle started to pulse so you decided to sit down for a while until they would find you.

A few minutes passed and you finally heard distinct chatter. Crawling toward it, you felt like a big toddler when Peter’s eyes locked with yours and lit up. “Baby!” He cupped your face with both hands and excitedly planted kisses all over your face, making you giggle. Parting from you, you shot Thor a smile who gave you a friendly nod. “Please, do not expect a greeting of that same manner on my behalf, Lady Y/N.”

You laughed. “That’s totally cool, Thor, don’t worry.” Leaning forward to look past Peter, you realized that Bucky wasn’t with them. “We’ve lost him,” Peter explained as he watched your face turn into pure horror.

“…To death?”

He almost choked on air. “Dear god, no. He took a wrong turn and now we can’t find him. He’s still very much alive…I think.” You nodded swiftly and glanced at your watch. “Okay, guys, it was really fun while it lasted but I need to get to my room now to send in that Biology paper. And maybe put some ice on this bad boy.” You gestured to your ankle but they stared at you blankly.

“What?”

“You can’t get through the hallway, Lady Y/N.”

“What?” You repeated yourself, brows knitted. “Why?”

“Blanket collapse. Kind of like an avalanche,” Thor explained and you stared at him in disbelief.

“Guys, I don’t want to play anymore. I really have to hand in the paper now. The deadline’s in 10 minutes.”

“But you can’t get through.” Peter tried to reason.

“What do you mean? It’s blankets and pillows. You just…” You gestured a sweeping motion. “…push it aside.”

He pouted. “But then the fort will collapse.”

“Peter, I don’t care.” You sucked in a sharp breath to speak calmly. “Can’t we just tear the fort down?”

“No!!” The two suddenly shouted horrified as if you had just suggested to run over a puppy. The terror on your face turned blank.

“…What?”

“Y/N, I love you, but I swore to Thor that, as a rightful citizen of Blankard, I would put my life on the line for this fort. It’s my home now and he even made me swore over a pillow and everything, it was really cool, you should’ve seen it.” Thor nodded proudly.

You pinched the bridge of your nose to stop the steam from coming out your ears. “Okay, how about this? I’m not a citizen of Blankard, right?” Your laugh edged on insanity. “So I could just…” You imitated the sweeping motion again. “…right?”

Not meeting your gaze, Peter fidgeted with his hands. “Well…”

You let your head fall back with a groan. “Peter!”

“I’m sorry, okay! But you’re technically one of the Founding Fathers,” he explained sheepishly and you wanted to pulverize him. Your glare sent shivers down his spine. “Peter Benjamin Parker, I am not going to miss my deadline because of a pillow fort. Now, get me…to my…room.” With every word you inched closer to him until you were pressed flush against his chest, piercing eyes boring into his soul.

He gulped and didn’t found the right words, or any words really, to escape his mouth so he just nodded stiffly. Racking his brain with all the movies he had ever watched, Peter came up with a quick idea. “Okay, how about this…” As he started to ramble about his plan, you took notice of Thor who was comfortably sitting behind Peter while stretching out his arm with an open palm. You’ve seen that movement far too many times and thus knew exactly what he was doing.

Catching you look at him, he smiled brightly at you while giving you a friendly wave. You waved back and averted your gaze back to your boyfriend.

“…So once I’m outside, I can easily climb through your bedroom window, open your laptop and turn in the paper for you. There’s no way that we could fuck that up, right?” He laughed nervously and you had to suppress your shit-eating grin.

“Sorry to disappoint, Pete, but looks like Thor’s already on that case. Don’t worry about it.”

With furrowed brows, he whipped around and you could swear you saw his soul escape his body. “Thor, NO!!”

But it was too late. Like domino stones, each and every pillow started to collapse and pull the blankets with it. Everything was happening in slow motion as Thor realized what he had done and once Mjolnir was in his hand, he quickly scooped you up and threw you on his shoulder. Peter landed on the other one and with both of you protesting, he ran away from the falling pillows and toward the elevator. Right at the doorway where the paths were lower, he let the both of you fall to the ground, screaming “CRAWL!!”.

Doing as told, you crawled as fast as you could in front of them, ignoring the sharp ache in your ankle but once you rounded the corner, you bumped into a hard chest. It was a very confused Bucky. His hair was tousled, he had a scratch to his cheek and overall looked like he came back from wrestling a bear. In unison, the three of you yelled “CRAWL!!” and he whipped around to lead the way.

It was all for nothing though. The walls around you started to give in and in the blink of an eye, four Avengers were buried under a pile of pillows and blankets.

It was silent for a second, no one comprehended what just happened. In some way, it was like the deadly silence that followed after defeat—a battlefield of buried hopes and duvets.

But you couldn’t help it and started laughing.

Of course, it was muffled but you laughed hard. The realization that you had missed your deadline because of a pillow fort that you built with earth’s best defenders was comically genius to you. Your belly shook with laughter while tears brimmed your eyes and you knew you were seconds away from running out of oxygen when suddenly the distinct ‘ding’ of the elevator caught your attention and your laughter abruptly died down.

Peter caught your eye as he suddenly looked…very excited? He wasn’t sure what part of his biological whereabouts made him feel this spur of adrenaline for being busted, maybe it was the teenage set of rebellious hormones, but it was for sure questionable.

Rising with the others, an all too familiar voice bellowed from the hallway. “WHAT THE HELL.”

A faint ‘Language…” followed and the corners of your mouth quirked up. Dizzily looking around the room, you had to bite back your laughter again.

It truly was like a battlefield. The others were scattered close to you on the ground, still halfway buried under a few layers while sharing silent looks of fear. Well, except for Peter maybe, who looked like he was standing in line for a roller coaster.

The footsteps came closer and within a second, they all stood at the doorway, still geared and everything. As expected, Tony’s eyes roamed through the room with bewilderment plastered on his face. Steve just portrayed pure confusion whereas Nat and Sam both had an amused smirk dangling on their lips, some might even say they were impressed.

When Tony’s eyes landed on the four of you, sitting in the middle of the room, looking like lost puppies who had no idea what maniac instincts overtook them to create this beautiful mess, he was speechless. Tony Stark was speechless.

The others glanced at him sideways, anticipating another explosion but instead, he looked like 10 years were capped off his life and he let out a long sigh. “…Pillow fort?”

The four of you nodded silently. Another moment of silence followed but this time, he had just accepted his fate. That’s what he signed up for when he left two men-children and two actual children at home all by themselves. This one was on him really.

When he noticed that the others were staring at him and expecting him to handle the mess, he almost looked offended.

“She's crying—“ He pointed at you and then Peter. “He's excited, I'm confused, nothing new. Now are we going or not?” Not waiting for an answer, he whirled around and left the room. Sharing a collective look of confusion, Steve informed with an amused smile. “We’re going out to eat Shawarma. Let’s go.” He nodded in the direction of the elevator and walked away, Nat and Sam following closely behind.

The room was silent again as Bucky picked himself up and Thor dusted off his clothes, both avoiding each other’s gaze. It was like nobody wanted to admit or even believe what had happened for the past few hours. Peter helped you up and wrapped your arm around his neck to steady you before leaving a soft kiss on your cheek. You smiled at him and together you walked, or more likely limped, toward the elevator. At the doorway, the four of you halted and turned back around to let your gaze fall on the remains of a fun afternoon. And just like that, it was another Sunday at the Compound.

* * *

this was so much fun to write and if i could make even one of you smile just a little bit with this one, it would absolutely make my day. thank for you reading! i’m playing with the thought of making a mini series just about the chaotic sunday adventures at the compound so a lot of domestic!avengers/au involving boyfriend!peter ofc so make sure to leave some feedback! xx

masterlist

taglist: @honeypie-holland @nerdyandproudofitsstuff

#peter parker x y/n #peter parker x reader #peter parker x avenger!reader #peter parker oneshot #peter parker fanfiction #peter parker fic #avenger!reader #peter parker fluff #peter parker funny

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mydayserenade · 3 years

Text

My Dear Starlight

Yunho x OC

rom, angst, fluff (???)

first time playing around w/ this kind of genre so apologies if its shitty

i suggest listening to Fix You by Coldplay cause it will definitely send you to sad hours while reading

"Do you remember the last time we went star-gazing? It was the night before I eventually confessed to you, we were lying on the grass and I was pretty much sleep deprived and alongside handling an empty stomach that was growling" he said and chuckled, reminiscing the sweet moment ever so vividly like it happened just yesterday. Yunho took his attention off the sky and watched silently as his fiance gaze the starry night without even noticing him staring at her like she was the brightest thing to ever exist as of the moment, which has always been a thing for them to do to each other... but mostly Yunho.

"I do dummy, can you believe it has been 5 years since then? Time flies so fast" Luna responded, leaning towards her right side to get a closer look at Yunho's visuals "And now here we are, engaged and a few months away from officially tying the knot." she giggled, toying with the necklace that he gave to her during their first anniversary and looked back at the night once more to admire it; the moon dawned on them like a bright spotlight, the sky was as blue as the deep sea, complimenting the shining stars that laced the sky, telling tales of long lost lovers which completed the visually angelic twilight that these two would share for hours.

Yunho looks over to his paramour with the endearment in his doey eyes and smiles ever so sweetly as she laid beside him, interlocking hands with one another and her hair that sprawled like beautiful waves; in a swift move he sits himself up and props Luna to lay down on his chest. Luna responds in a squeak, shocked by the sudden gesture her fiance did.

"Whenever you miss me" Yunho broke the silence between them and rested his cheek on the head of his soon-to-be Mrs. Jeong, she flinches as she felt his warm arms wrap around her chest, feeling his heartbeat going at a slow but steady pace.

"Um, where are you going with this?" she asked confusingly as Yunho snuggled on her neck, inhaling the delicate perfume that he oh so loved whenever she would put it on; he breathes in the intoxicating fragrance and lets out a satisfied sigh before he continued.

"It's just an intrusive thought" he replied and continued to snuggle, "but whenever you miss me while I'm away or when I suddenly get called by the House of Hufflepuff" he said jokingly in the last part, receiving a slap on the arm by her and continued on. "Look up at the night sky and think of me. My mom always told me that I had a special connection with celestial things most especially stars. I thought it was just nonsense she shared with me as a teenager but as I got older and took into consideration the feelings I had and enviroment or situations I was in, I did notice a few things that made me convinced that my mom was indeed right about her speculations." Luna was bewildered, all she could do was laugh. This was the first time she has ever heard of this story from Yunho considering the fact they've been together for 5 years, 24/7, 365 and he would often share his most atrocious memories; even his embarassing ones. She looked up at Yunho who was looking straight at her, showing how perplexed she was by her furrowed brows and confused grin.

"So you're telling me, God decided to make your bloodline 40% human and 60% celestial and as you age the more you feel connected with these things, will somehow tingle in your bones and signal you to shoot supernovas out of your hands like Starfire or some shit whenever it's nightime?" she asks.

"You're phrasing it like it's a crazy Sci-Fi movie Luna, I wasn't even finished." Yunho eyerolls and massages the bridge of his nose, letting out a deep sigh of annoyance. Luna enjoyed teasing him and seeing him all fired up; even if Yunho had a fierce exterior that people would be afraid of approaching, only few knew his childish side and how young at heart he was for things that he loved and took interest in.

"Go on continue, I was just annoying you." she giggles at the sight of him pouting and scrunching up his nose, Yunho takes a deep breath before he proceeds to the next.

"Eversince I was a little boy and when there were times where I had no one to play around with" Yunho looks up at the stars and grows a grin on his face as he points upward "they were always my companion and relate to how I was feeling. Whenever I felt happy, it would always blink at me, become bigger in size and blind me with its light; however when I felt sad, it would always shrink and release very little light. It would sometimes respond to the many queries I had and decisions by its blinking, it somehow felt like I had a mood lamp with me everywhere I go." he crooks his head to the right, scoffing at the many memories of him that flashed in his mind. "Even if I had no one to talk to at that time, as crazy as it sounds, the stars comforted me in a way that is unexplainable."

"It felt like someone understood the things you were going through like no one else has, almost as if you had an alternate you up in the galaxies." Luna looked up at how Yunho admired each white dot with the happiness in his eyes, looking so astonished like a little kid who just visited a candy store for the very first time. She now understood the many moments where he would suddenly look up the sky while driving, walking or even eating and just stare for seconds before eventually returning to what he was doing, almost as if he was thanking the heavens above or checking up on them like they were part of his family.

"You understand now? Whenever that time comes, just look up and I'm there." He whispers in Luna's ear, hands interlocking with hers and giving her a soft kiss on the head. Luna couldn't help but tear up by the gentle gesture Yunho did, the tale he had told and the thought of not seeing him for even a second. He was her rock and she was his, not a day would go by if they did not see each other in between the hours.

"I do Yunho, I do." she sits up and faces Yunho, cupping his face with her warm hands with Yunho gently caressing it and gives him a gentle kiss on the lips.

6 years later...

"I'm here" Luna whispered, standing in the middle of the silent and deserted park which was quiet enough to hear her; holding onto her precious necklace, she looked up the sky, admiring the white dots that scattered the sky. The stars were a bit different from normal, they were shining and twinkling more and more, almost as if it was calling out to her in morse code.

"You should really try and hide your excitement to a bare minimum, see this is why I never planned any surprise parties with you" she scoffed and sat down on the grass, closing her eyes and completely taking in the midnight breeze that brushed against her skin and blew on her hair. She lets out a sigh and toyed with the golden chain that was entangled on her fingers, feeling every abrasion and imperfection this necklace presented.

"You're probably wondering why I am here at 3 am in the morning" she said, fluttering her eyes to a vast field with streetlights surrounding it, "Awww man" Luna laughed, "You're most likely gonna kill me if I went out especially in this hour, well truth be told Mr. Jeong; are you battling me now with this cold gust of wind you blow?"

No one responds.

"I thought so too." she said under her breath as she hangs her head down, taking a deep breath before she continued to talk.

"I came here because I couldn't really sleep well these past few days and" she starts to choke up, sniffling and trying her absolute best to not break down, that's the last thing he would want Luna to do... especially in a time like this. "I don't know" she shrugs, rubbing her hands on her face. "I've been in my head too much, I've been emotionally unstable for the first time in a long time and I'm just" she suddenly pauses while a million thoughts circulates her mind. She urged herself to keep a strong and stable state for the past 6 years in front of friends and family, always say she was doing alright and all but deep down inside she was suffering the greatest loss of all and couldn't even bare to hold it in any longer.

"Yunho I'm so so so sorry" she lets out her tears, hysterically wailing on the field. She clutches her heart, completely lost her sense of reality and just wanted to scream out the pain and tiredness she has been holding on for the past few years, hiding behind a facadé so that people around her would not have to feel the burden that she might put on them. The countless nights of tear stained pillows and fake happy days were all weeped away at this night, she looks up at the skies; frozen and chanting swear words like a maniac.

"I'm sorry for not noticing sooner how much you suffered on the inside, for being such an asshole to you during those times and for not being enough of a friend and wife to you." she whimpered, losing all her might to prop herself up. In a graceful fall she lands on the grass, curled up, shiverring and clutching her knees amidst the cold breeze and moist grass under her.

"I'm a terrible person, I'm a fucking disgrace, and yet somehow I still exist in this world when it should've been you who is still alive. I tried my best to not worry you every night by saying I was doing okay, that I was living good and this and that, but for the past few days..." she closes her eyes and squeezes the pendant with her palm as tears streamed endlessly down her cheeks, "The wave of guilt just hit me harder than ever and I honestly am not so sure I can carry on this shameful life that only keeps me breathing."

From the day she knew up until his deathbed, Yunho never wanted Luna to see him at his worst neither did he want her to struggle and pity him, but his condition allowed Luna to see her beloved slowly succumb bit by bit. As much as she wanted to help him; he would always brush it off, plaster on his dimpled smile and please her in the best of his abilities and strength even if his state wasn't the way it was before. He did not want Luna to regret the moments she had with him and only fill her memories with the pain that he had felt and the hardships he's going through. She didn't agree to any of his ordeals but he had tried and persuaded her to commit to his wishes, in the end however; it would only lead to many arguements and her cursing him out. Eventually she caved in and did the best she could to seize the days, nights and hours with the presence of her one and only love yet deep down inside she was guilty of not helping with his condition and wanted to cater to his medical needs even if she had to travel miles away to get what he asks for.

"I respected your wishes, I carried on the many months with you with a positive outlook and a cheery personality. I was happy during those times I'll admit, because I was by your side everyday until the last second of you breathing, but at the back of my mind I knew I should've gone against what you wanted me to do and assist to your needs." she runs her hand through her hair, fuming at the thought of herself not doing her part during the days of Yunho's struggles. "You told me that I shouldn't feel guilty as this isn't my fault that you were diagnosed with this and it isn't my business to meddle around something like this, but goddamnit Yunho" she breathes uncontrollably as tears yet again pools in her eyes "I'm your fucking wife! I'm your best friend! I have been with you for as long as I can remember and I have made a vow to you that I'm gonna take care of you and nurture you when needed until our hair turns gray and we are all wrinkled." She bursts into annoyance and disappointment. None of what she did made perfect sense to her, all she wanted was to cry and rewind time so that she can make up for the past mistakes she's done and the many regrets she wanted to be erased in her mind. Luna didn't have the energy to continue on and she just lied in the grass, sprawled out and cried until her lungs gave out. She felt pain, she felt disappointment, she felt useless, she felt defeated.

A blinding light then hovers over Luna's exhausted and tearstained body, at first she did not mind this but as the light lingered on her for how many minutes now, she was irritated to this God-like halo that did not want to leave her be. She then slowly opens her eyes and was immediately welcomed to a soft, bright and white light that the moon shined on her, way different from the previous. The stars then aligned, creating a mystical ceiling that somehow calmed Luna's nerves and distract her away from her thoughts, it shined excitingly but twinkled in a calm matter. Luna was in awe at how much beauty the sky emmited, she had completely felt relaxed and wiped the tears that streamed down her face. She goes on to bask under the moonlight and stars, breathing in and out and feeling liberated and worry-free, something she has never felt ever since Yunho was put to rest.

"Now I truly understand what you meant." she mumbled, feeling lighter than ever. Luna then proceeds to put back her shoes on and did a flying kiss to the air multiple times before she left the park. "I think I know what I need to do now." she smiled and took a deep breath.

"Thank you for giving me something I never believed in but eventually found myself with you, love." she sighs lovingly as she gets up and moves towards her car. She takes one last look at the stars and glances down the necklace she has been holding. "Thank you for tonight, see you soonest, my dear starlight."

#ateez yunho #yunho #jeong yunho #ateez #ateez fluff #ateez angst #ateez fanfic

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astrovian · 3 years

Text

the official ranking of RA photoshoot outfits (pt. 1)

as @dykethorin said when I first proposed doing this particular ranking, “Some real Decisions™️ were made” with these shoots y’all

all photoshoot outfits (for part one) under the cut

the official ranking of Daniel Miller outfits here

the official ranking of Adam Price outfits here

the official ranking of Claude Becker outfits here

guys, I’m crying with laughter

hey quick question: what the fuck was this photoshoot??? (and also I need current RA in these poses)

it’s real nice to see a fun, loosey-goosey RA (before he established himself in the broody-character archetype) but there are so many questionable fashion choices here

when I started this list I had two options:

1) allow some leeway to the older photoshoots because, let’s be real, the early 2000s were an atrocious time for fashion that a lot of us would most rather forget we participated in

2) judge them by today’s standards, which is harsh but some of these outfits deserve it

naturally, I chose option #2

It’s so hard to even pick where to start. the too-loose pants? the ill-fitting suit jacket? The untucked dress shirt that is for some god-forsaken reason undone in two separate directions??

I have chosen one thing that sums the outfit up as a whole: what monster decided to put the shirt collar over the suit jacket????

the jazz hands scream “hey I’m a FUN guy” but the suit screams “I’m the yo-pro asshole at the office who is so unreliable you’re pretty sure some nepotism must surely have had an influence during the hiring process”

I originally said ‘I guess we should be glad there’s no surfer necklace’ but then I had the horrifying realisation that it’s a 50/50 shot as to whether that would improve this outfit or make it worse. and you know when there’s even slimmest chance a surfer necklace could improve an outfit somehow that it’s time to take a good hard look at yourself

1/10 just because this photoshoot made me genuinely laugh out loud

wait I’m sorry, what-

how on god’s green earth is this the same photoshoot (?) as guys, I’m crying with laughter????

the great thing about these lists is that you are getting my genuine reactions as I progress down the images. I had no idea this was the same photoshoot (?) until approximately 10 seconds after writing guys, I’m crying with laughter

this perfectly encapsulates the duality of man – one moment it’s all goofy jazz hands and the next it’s a hunk-of-the-week moment

this man and guys, I’m crying with laughter are the equivalent of looking at pictures of yourself in high school vs. in your 20s/30s/at your prime. the whiplash is insane

and why is he in front of barred windows?? it appears they were afraid of what would happen if this hunk escaped into the general population

I still can’t believe they kept the collar over the suit jacket though

I’m so conflicted guys, the urge to numerically rank this terrible outfit is strong but uh… as per usual shirtless ones aren’t fair/10

revenge of the killer surfer necklace

do you ever look back at a specific moment in time and are so thankful that someone took one tiny action? one small thing they did in the heat of the moment that probably seemed innocuous at the time but had far-reaching consequences? for example, it might something as simple as deciding to take a umbrella on a bright sunny day only for it to be extremely useful on the way home when the weather turns

this is how I feel about the person who decided RA could leave that top button closed for this shoot

if you squint, you can see the surfer necklace under that top button. and thank god you have to squint

this is such an early 2000s look though. that shirt by itself is fine and would actually look killer with a properly fitted suit nowadays. it’s the shirt dress and loose denim look with makes no sense to me

2/10 for a pretty uninspiring early 2000s outfit

revenge of the uh…

from the same shoot as revenge of the killer surfer necklace this loses .1 of a mark for adding a jacket, while pretty innocuous, to an already busy outfit

1.9/10

were we really that afraid of legs?

why were we, as a society, so obsessed with loose, ill-fitting pants? why were we so desperate to conceal legs from the general population? what secrets were we trying to hide? I understand the comfort factor on the hand, but on the other did anyone actually have eyes

the sneakers/suit combo I can definitely live with. but those pants (that I’m convinced must be pyjama pants in another life) turns it all into a sloppy, blurry mess

2.7/10

is it a bird? is it a plane? no, it’s… a floating RA?

what is it about photoshoots in the early 2000s where they just make no damn sense. it’s my opinion that the theme/concept of a shoot should not overshadow the subject, and that’s the correct opinion (as well as being the exact opposite as to what’s happening here)

maybe there was a hint or reason as to why floating wizard RA exists in the article that this shoot presumably came with, but I don’t get it. clearly I’m far too literal of a person and need to embrace my inner artist

looks pretty, still weird

moving on the entire point of this post, the outfit, I uh,… oh god

I’m pretty sure this the same (and similar, if not) outfit RA wore in the North & South behind-the-scenes, and how we as a society went from John Thornton’s stiff collar and top hat to this is amazing

maybe we were so obsessed with period dramas back then because it was a nice alternative to indulge our eyes in when we had to face the harsh, cold reality of modern fashion at the time

anyway – trust me, while I am all for a man in a necklace, let’s pray surfer necklaces never come back 2.9/10

I genuinely was looking up “pinstriped jacket jokes” because I couldn’t think of anything off the top of my head but then I realised I don’t need a joke here because pinstriped jackets are a joke all by themselves

I feel like there may be a situation where pinstriped suit jackets might grow on me, but this is not that situation

also I don’t really know where I stand on the belt, but I certainly think I’m leaning towards the ‘why’ part of the scale. if you’re gonna make a belt that prominent in a photoshoot, at least make it a fun belt

3/10

I’m noticing a trend in these photoshoots and it’s these horrific backgrounds

I will admit that the non-patterned suit jacket is going with the jeans a lot better here. but now that my attention isn’t focused on that, all I can see are the dress shoes. WHY DID YOU PUT DRESS SHOES WITH STRAIGHT-LEGGED JEANS???

please someone I am begging you, can we as a society get to tapered jeans already

3.3/10

did RA genuinely ever get put into any clothes that actually fitted him properly at this point in time?

look, I know I’ve been picking on the bootcut jeans & loose attire that plagued us in the early 2000s (or 2006, to be specific to this photoshoot). what can I say, it’s the low-hanging fruit. or loose-hanging, as the case may be

I do appreciate that rich brown leather jacket and that smile. but that’s where it stops. someone take dress shirts and dress shoes away from bootcut denim PLEASE

3.5/10

this is the bad-boy from your hometown in every rom-com ever

as with well this in an interesting development that I can’t say I disapprove of below, the lower rating is simply because from what we can see, it’s just a plain shirt. however, that dipped v-neck? mm-mmm

look at that smirk. this man knows what he’s doing to us, dammit.

why do you persist in hurting us this way 4/10

well this in an interesting development that I can’t say I disapprove of

god bless the person who said we need this shirt wet and clinging and only half-soaked

I’m so sad that I have to give this such a low ranking because uh… we’ve established I have a weakness for those biceps

this does also get bonus points for the creativity of “only this portion of your shirt needs to be wet for your close-up” but at the end of the day it is a solitary grey t-shirt even if it is floating in an attractive sea of muscles

4.5/10

the photographer really said ‘who gives a crap about the clothes’, huh?

an interesting shirt! but as much as I love RA’s face, we should be able to see more of the shirt (and the outfit) because uh… it’s hard to make a judgement call on a photoshoot outfit without that

also, it’s just so hard to concentrate on some of these with RA staring into my soul like that

*sigh* 4.6/10

hello sir, are you as kinky as your shirt?

this is one of the few occasions on which I will give the bootleg baggy jeans a pass. interesting choice to go shoeless for all outfits in this shoot – but the way the shirt is all crumpled is annoying me an incessant amount. I am begging you, someone pass this stylist an ironing board PLEASE

4.7/10 for a crinkle-cut RA

all that’s missing is the beer cans

I’m not sure of the short sleeves here. I think with the shirt open as well my brain doesn’t know where to look

HOWEVER, this is an RA from the early 2000s that I can get behind – largely because he’s not drowning in his denim

the nice, plain belt which matches with the shirt? excellent

interesting choice to go with the bare feet – this entire look (and the quality of that concrete floor) screams ‘we’re chilling at a summer party in your parent’s basement in the early 2000s’ if not for one thing – that couch is way too nice looking. am I being too pedantic about this? no. If you’re gonna go for the whole basement party look, you need a couch that’s falling apart and has at least one questionable stain on it

that being said, I would hang out in this man’s basement

it’s a shirtless one so once again, I cannot give a numerical answer/10

I’m not sure if this man is dangerous or is just an idiot

they may have been wanting RA to embrace his inner Daniel Miller here but that is NOT a jacket that should have its collar popped or if it is, it definitely should not be popped that much. just turn the intensity of that pop down by… at least 35%

this look is telling me to embrace my inner lacy, ruffled collar that men in England used to wear around the 1500 - 1600s. I hate it and refute it with every part of my soul

this is what happens when you embrace your inner Daniel a little bit too much 5.6/10

the return of the leg monster

not much to say about this except once again we are terrified to put RA’s legs into well-fitted pants. what secrets are hiding underneath those voluminous billows? will we ever know?

5.8/10

the one that crushed my hopes and dreams and then spat on my corpse

so I admit it, I got really excited because I thought that this was a leopard print shirt and I was like “this is something I did NOT know that I needed until right now”, even if I would argue that it could have been nice in a little bit of a brighter colour. no matter, I thought it was a nice subtle addition to this plain suit and was just very excited at the prospect of RA rocking leopard print even though I almost always hate leopard print in single every form it comes in

and then. upon zooming. a disappointing paisley. sorry, paisley lovers. I hate it

I would also argue here that the pocket square would have been nice in a plain, bright colour rather than another patterned item thrown into the mix. come on stylists, stop letting me down with your pocket squares

also if there is a point where a suit can be too shiny, I think we’ve found it. I could wax floors with that fabric and I’d rather be thinking about RA’s talent & good looks rather than imagining him being used as a human mop

the hand porn is uh… strong with this one 6/10

the hand porn one

the ring is a nice subtle touch but I can’t decide where I stand on this tie. for me, the checks are just a *wee* tad too small. so small that it I’m scared it will turn into one of those optical illusions with a number in it if I stare at it the tie for too long

the pocket square could also have not tried so hard to blend in with the rest of the suit jacket. give me some colour, baby!

Richard really needs to put his hand down so I can actually concentrate on the clothes 6.5/10

I’m just dotty for this one (I’m so sorry y’all)

so suave. so shiny. I wanna stroke that fabric so bad, it looks so soft

the dots bring a nice yet understated touch to a monotone outfit and GOOD LORD those thighs

they just had to pose him like this to torture us, I’m convinced. also they call him a “commanding gentleman” in the subtitle which is really just unnecessary to verbalise when he’s sitting like this

Someone put me in a rom-com with this man 7.2/10

the modern magician (at least he ain’t floating this time)

I know that the hat should be the focus of this shoot but I can’t get over those shoes

tangentially related, I have never understood why they make men’s dress shoes so excessively long and pointed. these certainly aren’t a good example of this but uh… I don’t understand why men’s dress shoes are clown shoes

I think part of what’s throwing me off is the sockless look. normally I can handle (and even love) it with some shoes but there’s something about the hem of those jeans and those shoes that turn them into slippers when worn sockless

I love the two-tone scarf but what really excites me is the plaid shirt that we can barely see. I’m eternally sad that they had RA hid it in this pose. and also, come one. you could’ve at least gotten a chair with an actual back to it. that can’t be good for his back at all

the one bonus of this outfit is the hat because when do we ever get RA in hats?? and hats that aren’t baseball caps?? a nice, rare touch. but also one which hides most of that face so…

can we talk about the fact that my gut tells me those jean cuffs have been deliberately turned up at the front and all I want in life is to reach into this image and flip them down 7.5/10

*pterodactyl noises*

holy macaroni. that demin shirt. and this shirt’s even a nice lighter denim colour??? and the v-neck?? SIR

I know he’s worn some faux-denim shirts in the last few years (see: Uncle Vanya rehearsal pics) but as outerwear? knocked it out of the park in this one

also I know this is a shirt not a jacket, but this shirt made me think about how I never realised how much I needed RA in jean jackets until today

It could be argued that a nice crew neck cut would work slightly better than the v-neck but that’s really a personal choice

a lovely respite for my weary eyes 7.7/10

a truly, truly blessed image. the sort of image that would bring you endless good luck

I know I’ve given a lot of pants crap on this list but these. these are the ones. these are doing the lord’s work for sure. and god bless the person who decided to shoot from this particular side angle.

and then the shirt?? I’m honestly afraid it may rip if he moves. I could leave or take the tie though. it’s not adding a whole lot to this outfit and I would much rather that shirt be uh… open at the top for a glimpse of uh… well. you know.

this RA outfit laughs in the face of all those early 2000s RA outfits 8.1/10

me running to open my phone every time an RA-related notification pops up

my only sadness is that this shoot was in black & white. we need more action-shot RA shoots!

also the subtle plaid?? *chef’s kiss*

well, I said ‘my only sadness’ but is it also me or are both ends of that tie strangely square? that is throwing me off from an otherwise spectacular photoshoot outfit, I won’t lie

8.5/10 for a man of action

this is what we all like to think we look on the way to work. hate to break it to ya - we don’t

god, that wind-ruffled hair. the rustic look provided by both the suit material & the photo editing. that stare over the top of that coffee mug. the casual ‘I just picked up the paper on my way out this morning’

words fail me

would it be weird if I said I would pay money to be able to run my hands through anyone’s hair that looks as soft and wind-swept as that 8.9/10

the comfiest RA

I love. love. love this outfit, especially the sweater. the pant colour goes extremely well with this one and I’m so glad they didn’t just stick him in jeans. the is the softest, comfiest RA and I love it. this is an RA who you can simultaneously share a beer and takeaway with at home, cuddling up on the sofa while you watch a film, as well as an RA who will take you out to eat fancy pasta at an upscale restaurant.

the choice of sitting on a stool is also great. my only real gripe here is the watch (and even that’s a minor one, really). the watch isn’t THAT bad, but it’s chunky face reminds me slightly of the watches boys in my class would wear in middle school. the watch could be a *wee wee tad* slicker, but really, I’m nitpicking here (and this is the only time I will admit to it)

the more I look at it, the more this becomes one of my fav RA pics. the slight smile. the relaxed pose. the hint of hand porn

weirdly, for some reason this picture gives me the exact same comfy and ‘just chilling out’ feeling as when I hear the song “Kiss Me” by Sixpence None the Richer 9.5/10

#richard armitage #yes this is a multi-part one because uh... there's a lot of photoshoots guys #also yes most of the early 2000s ones ended up at the bottom and I refuse to apologise for that

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human-antithesis · 3 years

Audio

Diabolus Absconditus

(“Death is the most terrible thing; And to maintain its works is what requires the greatest strength” – Hegel) Would it all be absurd? Or might it make some kind of sense? I’ve made myself sick wondering about it, I awake in the morning – Just the way millions do, Millions of boys, girls, infants and old men, Their slumber dissipated forever... These millions, those slumbers have no meaning. A hidden meaning? Hidden, yes, “obviously”! But if nothing has any meaning, there’s no point in my doing anything. I’ll beg off. I’ll use any deceitful means to get out of it, In the end I’ll have to let go and sell myself to meaninglessness, nonsense: That is man’s killer; The one who tortures and kills, not a glimmer of hope left. But if there is meaning? Today I don’t know what it is. Tomorrow? Tomorrow, who can tell me? Am I going to find out what it is? No, I can’t conceive of any “meaning” other than “my” anguish, and as for that, I know all about it. And for the time being: nonsense. Monsieur Nonsense is writing and understands that he is mad. It’s atrocious. But his madness, this meaninglessness – how “serious” it has become all of a sudden! – Might that indeed be “meaningful”? My life has only a meaning insofar as I lack one: oh, but let me be mad! Make something of all this he who is able to, Understand it he who is dying, And there the living self is, knowing not why, It’s teeth chattering in the lashing wind: The immensity, the night engulfs it and, All on purpose, that living self is there just in order... “not to know”. But as for God? God, if he knew, would be a swine. He would entirely grasp the idea... but what would there be of the human about him? Beyond, beyond everything... And yet farther, and even farther still... HIMSELF, in an ecstasy, above an emptiness... Cognitive activity: God comes to be known in ways that originate in God solely God is nothing if He is not, in every sense, the surpassing God; In the sense of common everyday being, in the sense of dread, Horror and impurity, and, finally, in the sense of nothing... He is mystery, indeed he is the absolute mystery Divine disclosure is in direct proportion To the degree of divine concealment Intensification of revelation equals To increase of god’s hiddenness Descent of the Deus Absconditus The unreservedly open spirit – open to death, to torment, to joy -, The open spirit, open and dying, Suffering and dying and happy, stands in a certain veiled light: That light is divine. And the cry that breaks from a twisted mouth may perhaps twist him who utters it, But what he speaks is an immense alleluia, flung into endless silence, and lost there. Shall my only victory be available in conscience? Why is absence the proof, when I demand palpable presence? There is enough light to enlighten the elect and enough darkness to humble them There is enough darkness to blind the reprobate and enough clarity to condemn them, And make them without excuse Our perception is subject to the fissure of concupiscence Woestruck am I realizing that the light cast on this Chiaroscuro world is partial and selective Division, election and predestination Enabled by grace or left to one’s own device... Anguish only is sovereign absolute. The sovereign is a king no more: it dwells low-biding in big cities. It knits itself up in silence, obscuring it’s sorrow. Crouching thick-wrapped, there it waits, Lies waiting for the advent of Him who shall strike a general terror; But meanwhile and even so sorrow scornfully mocks at all that comes to pass, at all there is. From very high above a kind of stillness swept down upon me and froze me It was as though I were borne aloft in a flight of headless and unbodied angels Shaped from the broad swooping of wings, but it was simpler than that I became unhappy and felt painfully forsaken, as one is when in the presence of God She was seated, she held one leg stuck up in the air, to open her crack Yet wider she used her fingers to draw the folds of skin apart And so her “old rag and ruin” loured at me, hairy and pink, Just as full of life as some loathsome squid “Why”, I stammered in a subdued tone, “Why are you doing that?” “You can see for yourself”, she said, “I’m God” No use laying it all up to irony when I say of her that she is GOD. But GOD figured as a public whore and gone crazy – That, viewed through the optic of “philosophy”, makes no sense at all. I don’t mind having my sorrow derided if derided it has to be, He only will grasp me aright whose heart holds a wound that is an incurable wound, Who never, for anything, in any way, would be cured of it... And what man, if so wounded, would ever be willing to “die” of any other hurt? If there is nothing that surpasses our powers and our understanding, If we do not acknowledge something greater than ourselves, Greater than we are despite ourselves, Something which at all costs must not be, Then we do not reach the insensate moment towards which we strive With all that is in our power and which at the same time We exert with all our power to stave off I can utter no word, O my God, unless I be permitted by Thee And can move in no direction until I obtain Thy sanction It is Thou, O my God, Who hast called me into being through the power Of Thy might, and has endued me with Thy grace to manifest Thy Cause The act whereby being – existence – is bestowed upon us Is an unbearable surpassing of being, An act no less unbearable than that of dying. And since, in death, being is taken away from us at the same time it is given us, We must seek for it in the feeling of dying, In those unbearable moments when it seems to us that we are dying Because the existence in us, During these interludes, Exists through nothing but a sustaining and ruinous excess, When the fullness of horror and that of joy coincide. As I waited for annihilation, all that subsisted in me Seemed to me to be the dross over which man’s life tarries... “Diabolus Absconditus”: the conjunction of intellect And psychotropic-altered senses supported by insistent and archaic sounds

#Deathspell Omega #Avant-Garde Black Metal #Avant Garde Black Metal #Black Metal #Avant-Garde #Avant Garde #Mikko Aspa #Finland #Christian Bouche #Hasjarl #Khaos #France #Norma Evangelium Diaboli

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what-if-i-imagine · 4 years

Note

Hey darling, do you think you could do a DamiJon one shot with the sentence starter "Are we on a date right now?" Where Damian is very oblivious to his and Jon's feelings and doesn't understand crushes/love much to Jon's frustration?

Sorry This took so long! It doesn’t exactly match up with the last pat of the prompt, but here you go!

It was a sunny day, as was the usual for the bright and busy city of Metropolis, and Damian swore he was the only one for miles who was not enjoying the lack of cloud cover and gloomy weather. Everyone they passed by on the streets wore blinding smiles and talked with too much enthusiasm for a Monday afternoon. People waved at strangers and stopped for street performers, and in general acted as the Utopian image of city life.

Damian almost found himself missing the dark and very real streets of Gotham. Almost.

Of course, that didn’t mean he wasn’t enjoying the day so far.

At that particular moment, he was walking down a sidewalk with a certain Kryptonian boy who was laughing far too hard for someone who hadn’t been told a joke.

“The acting was unrealistic, the CGI was terrible and the props and costumes were the work of anmitures,” Damian persisted, still hung up on the awful movie they had gotten out of half an hour before. It had been the newest installment in the Sunrise series, and it was so bad Damian would have been at a loss for words if he were forced to watch just five more minutes.

He had only gone to see it in the first place because Jon had loved the first movie and he, Raven and Todd had all loved the books. If the books were anything like the movie had been, Damian would have to have a serious talk with his friends and brother about their taste in media.

“Stop laughing, I’m serious,” Damian huffed, but despite his annoyance he was fighting a smile of his own.

“It’s good bad,” Jon said through his laughter, wiping tears from his eyes and clutching his side.

“That wasn’t ‘good bad’ it was a disgrace to all of cinema!” Damian scoffed. “I knew you were tasteless, but I had no clue it was this atrocious.”

“You just aren’t getting it because you’re taking it too seriously,” Jon insisted. “If you stop looking at it as an actual romance and look at it from a comedic angle, it’s the best thing ever.”

“The protagonist was bland, her love interests behaviors were unrealistic, and the message of the story is disgusting,” Damian continued to list off the movie’s flaws.

“Damian, stop for one second,” Jon said, finally freed of his laughter. “Remember, we aren’t the intended audience. The intended audience is teenage girls. It wasn’t meant for a message, it was meant for escapism and wish fulfillment for its intended audience. When you keep that in mind, it’s an absolute masterpiece.”

“Tt, whatever you say farm boy,” Damian rolled his eyes. He checked his watch while Jon laughed a little more. “We still have three hours before we have to meet Drake and the Clone.”

“Perfect,” Jon bounced. “That means we have time to stop by the arcade, sweets shop and my favorite cafe!”

“If you insist,” Damian sighed.

“Don’t be like that, I’ve had this day planned for weeks!” Jon whined, tugging on his arm. “I even did extra chores this week so we would have enough money.

“You could have just asked me to bring my wallet,” Damian said.

“Nu-uh, there is no way I’m letting you pay for our first outing together,” Jon shook his head.

“This isn’t our first-” Damian was quickly cut off as Jon pulled him into the arcade, his super speed and strength slipping ever so slightly so that he had to rub his arm and catch his breath afterwards. By the time he regained his balance, Jon had rushed over to the coin machine and was feeding in a twenty he had earned from mowing the lawn and washing the dishes.

When he came back, he took Damian’s hand and dumped about half of the coins into it with a grin. He had been practically glowing ever since they had met up that morning, an effect that Damian could easily write off as being due to the shining sun and not his presence, as Drake had insisted. Even inside the arcade, shaded and away from the sun, the fifteen year old was still shining brighter than any of the neon lights around them.

Damian just shook his head but relented as Jon dragged him around the arcade, showing off his gaming skills and earning tickets. Damian was decent at most of the games, but was too unused to the mode of gaming compared to the consuls he played on with his family to truly be any good. He would never admit that out loud of course. It would go right to Jon’s head he was sure.

Damian had run out of coins and only had a fistful of tickets by the time Jon was down to his last two had had a plastic bag filled.

For his last game, Jon took Damian by the hand and pulled him towards an arm wrestling game that reached to the ceiling with a bell at the top. Damian had seen such a game in a cheesy movie Brown had shown him and the rest of the family. After asking his father more about the game, he was informed that, as many carnival games were, it was completely rigged and impossible to win.

“Those don’t actually work you know,” Damian said, leaning against the machine with an unimpressed raise to his brow. “Even for your strength it won't budge.”

“Want to bet?” Jon asked, his grin growing wider, a far cry from the shy and timid Jon Kent and much closer to the Superboy he knew from their late night escapades.

Damian snorted but gave a single nod. A simple dip of his chin, never breaking eye contact.

“All of the loser’s tickets to the winner?” Jon asked.

“Whatever you say,” Damian agreed.

Jon rolled up his sleeves and, gaze still on Damian, took hold of the fake hand and started the simulated arm wrestling contest.

Damian actually gave a jump when he felt something rush past him inside the machine and hit the bell at the top with an almost deafening ding ding ding!

While he stared wide eyed up at the bell, Jon cheered and collected the tickets spilling out from the machine into his plastic bag. When Damian turned back to him, still slightly in shock, Jon was holding out his hand expectantly with a self satisfied smirk.

“The machine must be broken,” Damian said as he handed them over.

“Whatever you say,” Jon teased. After taking the tickets, he took Damian’s hand again and went up to the prize counter to feed the tickets into a machine to get a receipt. He handed off said recit to a tired looking teenager, only a year or so older than Damian, bouncing on his heels.

“Could I have that bear?” he asked, pointing up to the ceiling. Damian followed his finger’s direction and found a large bear that was at least five feet tall hanging from the ceiling. It had a superman symbol on it’s chest in the shape of a heart, which was more than enough to make Damian roll his eyes. It was very much something the young Kent would waste his tickets on as a gag with his family.

The teenager behind the counter smiled through their clear as day lack of sleep and scanned both the recibt and the little sign that announced the bear’s price. He had to pull over a ladder and get a long hooked pole to unloop the bear from where it was hung up, and struggled with handing it to Jon over the counter.

As soon as the bear was in his arms, though, Jon immediately pushed it to Damian’s chest. He struggled at first, with the bear being as big as himself, but managed to get a good hold on it and look around it to furrow his brows in question.

“I won it for you,” Jon said like it was obvious. “If you need me to carry it it can.”

“I am perfectly fine carrying the monstrosity on my own,” Damian said. “You couldn’t have chosen a more impractical gift?”

“It's not an impractical gift,” Jon said. “It’s cute.”

“Can it not be both?” Damian asked, but relented in following Jon out of the arcade the fastest he could with the monstrous stuffed animal in his arms.

“Sweets shop or cafe next?” Jon said allowed, though it was clear he was asking himself.

“We only have time left for one of the two,” Damian said after checking his watch again.

“Cafe it is then!” Jon said. He guided Damian back down the Metropolis sidewalk, pointing out different stores and vendors along the way as he told stories about them. Damian only heard half of the stories, his sight too focused on Jon’s lit up and expressive face for any of his other senses to properly function.

Halfway through a story about a noodle store he liked to visit with his older brother, Jon noticed Damian’s staring. He ducked his head, his cheeks flaring bright red, and Damian couldn’t help but give the smallest of smiles at the reaction.

The rest of the walk to the cafe, Jon’s voice was back to its usual shy softness as he chatted on about the city he so clearly loved. Damian didn’t stop his staring, but did end up lost in his own thoughts about the past years’ events.

He could still very clearly remember the day when he was thirteen and his father had carefully sat him down in his study for a talk. During that talk, he was told of one of the most disturbing things yet to happen in his life, which was saying something considering his childhood.

Through dimension hopping events that Damian never bothered to understand, Jon had gone from ten years old to seventeen overnight. He was different now that he was so much older, and Damian found a hole grow in his chest from the loss of his closest friend.

The event was possibly the thing that finally cemented his bond with Drake, and they had both lost their kryptonian friends under circumstances completely out of their control. The only problem Damian saw with the bonding they had done was that Drake had gotten Conner back. Not only had he gotten him back, but the two had started dating not too long after his return, which brought Damian an odd sense of jealousy he had never been able to understand.

After a year of consideration between himself and his parents, Jon had gone to Zatanna for help in reversing his physical age. The magician had agreed, but had only been half successful in her daunting task. The next time Damian saw Jon, he was only a year younger than him, still with his ever present height advantage, now coupled with his mental age.

Damian was still ashamed when he remembered his initial reaction of slamming the door in Jon’s face. He had refused to speak to the Kryptonian for months on end, so unsure of how to feel about the entire situation he had found himself in. He had gotten his friends back, but he wasn’t sure if he was still really his friend.

He still wished that his family could have stopped being so damn unconditionally supportive for one moment and knocked some sense into him so he could have accepted Jon’s returned presence in his life earlier than he actually had.

It had been a year since the two had fully reunited, apologies coming from both ends despite Damian’s admit denial that Jon had anything to apologize for. He was big enough to admit he had been the one fully in the wrong even though everyone repeatedly told him his reaction was perfectly reasonable for a fourteen year old presented with such a stressful situation. Even at sixteen, he couldn’t understand Jon’s easy forgiveness of his behavior.

“Dami?” Jon pulled him from his thoughts gently, cheeks faded to a much softer pink, but the blush still clearly present.

“I’m okay,” Damian nodded, ignoring the clear pull in his chest. Jon had been so gentle with him the past year no matter how much they had both moved on, and it was enough to drive him crazy “You were saying?”

“We’re here,” Jon smiled, nodding to the cafe now in front of them.

Damian gave a small smile in return and followed Jon to the outdoor table he claimed to be his favorite. While Jon placed their orders at the front, Damian set the super bear up in one of the seats at the table. He pulled out his phone while he waited, finding texts from Grayson, Todd and Brown all asking him a variation of ‘how’s the date going?’

Damian responded to all the texts from his prying siblings with ‘it’s not a date’ and put his phone away again to look around at the others sitting outside of the cafe.

There were a few younger high school and older middle school students hanging around the tables and benches outside the cafe, enjoying the nice weather and food Jon had claimed to be some of the best in metropolis (“Besides that one time Conner brought me with him to a custody required dinner with Lex a few years ago. That was the best,” he remembered the teen chatting on the walk there). Damian realized Jon had probably learned about the cafe from friends he knew from school.

As he looked around, though, he noticed more and more that the other teens around him were all there in pairs. Sipping on milkshakes and coffees together while they ate a split pastry. Some were holding hands over or under the table, or kissing on benches or leaned against the cafe’s garden walls. Subconsciously he found himself beginning to go into panic, because this was clearly not a place a normal friend from school would take Jon.

He didn’t understand why he was panicking at the notion of the boy having a boyfriend or girlfriend, or having gone on dates before. He was mentally aged to nineteen, even if he was currently dwelling in the body of a fifteen year old.

Maybe it was because sitting among these couples brought out something in him that had nothing to do with Jon. At least, he was pretty sure it had nothing to do with Jon.

He had never felt threatened or out of place when at events that had many couples, his age, younger and older, all gathered and acting as couples. He knew the divorce, widowing and murder rates in Gotham meant that very few couples actually lasted for life. Even around his family he never found himself upset because he was too happy for their pairings. His father and Selina had made a great match despite his earlier doubts, Grayson and West were married with kids of their own, Todd and Harper as dysfunctional as they were still held Damian’s vote as the best fit couple in the family, and Drake and Jon’s cloned older brother were engaged to be wed in the spring.

But these couples were affecting him in such a way that he started to squeeze his stuffed bear’s paw under the table.

What’s wrong with Gotham? He thought, rerunning every statistic and horror story of love he knew from the city. The thought quickly morphed into What’s wrong with me?

It had been a long time since he asked that question, two years to be exact, and it was quickly waved away back to his first question. It had taken years of extensive therapy ordered by Alfred and plenty of love and care from his family, colleagues and friends to help him accept there wasn’t anything wrong with him. He was raised in harsh circumstances that his mother had gotten him out of and to his father the soonest she could. He had built walls and defences, and he knew now at a more mature age that they were all just for show and were unneeded now.

He looked around at the couples again and forced his heart not to harden in the presence. It was beautiful what youth and a good city could do to grow love, and he would be damned if he let a coping mechanism from his childhood make him view it as any less.

“Sorry I took so long,” Jon’s laugh caught his attention and he gave a soft smile up at his friend.

“Not at all.”

Jon took his seat across from him and sat down the tall pink and white milkshake between them as well as a napkin with two cookies on it. Just with a glance Damian could tell Jon had gotten him a dark chocolate variety, and couldn’t help but let his smile grow.

His attention on the cookies of course made him belatedly notice that the milkshake was singular and had two straws sticking up from the top.

“I wasn’t sure what flavor you wanted,” Jon admitted while Damian’s gaze whipped around them, knowing there must be a mistake. Instead of an explanation, Damian’s eyes locked onto a few couples who had a drink or milkshake set up the same way. One drink, two straws, with them drinking from them happily as they stared into each other’s eyes.

“It’s strawberry and cream,” Jon said, drawing his attention again. The teen across from him was nervously adjusting his glasses and pushing back his dark curls, looking anywhere but Damian. Damian noticed the faint blush dusting his cheeks and smiled, before his entire face went red at realization that he had just smiled at his friend blushing.

His brothers’ and Brown’s texts suddenly came back to mind, along with a few romcoms they had watched together and his own observations of his family and their significant others. The movie with a shared bucket of popcorn, the holding hands, the bear purchased and given after winning an arcade game, and now the obviously romantic cafe with a two straw milkshake and a blush.

“Are we on a date right now?” Damian blurted, eyebrow furrowed but eyes wide.

Jon’s head snapped up so quick Damian had barely seen it, compliments of super speed, his eyes equally as wide, “I thought we were, but your expression is telling a totally different story. You don’t have any kryptonite batarangs on you right now, right?”

“Why would I-” Damian shook his head, “We’re on a date no one had the decency to tell me?”

Well, technically Grayson, Todd and Brown had told him, but that wasn’t important. What was important was how shrill his voice was to his own ears, and the sympathetic glances a few couples were giving him.

“I asked Tim to ask you if you go on a date with me since my phone broke,” Jon was babbling now, hands flying around as he tried to explain. “I thought when he told Conner that you said yes you were saying yes to the date!”

A set up, Damian realized. Drake had fully intended for this mess to happen just to spite him. The man was lucky Damian now accepted he loved him, or he would never live to see his spring wedding.

“I need a second,” Damian said, resting his head in his hands. His face felt hot under his fingers, and he feared to imagine just how red it had become. A lifetime of training was all falling apart all because he had spent an entire date with a cute boy completely in the dark to the fact that it was a date.

Wait. Cute boy?

Did he think Jon was cute? Jon was cute, he had always known that, but did he really think he was cute in the way that Drake found the clone cute?

He had been jealous when Tim got the clone back but he lost Jon. That meant something, he had always known that, but he had never really looked into it. If he thought Jon was cute in that way, it explained the jealousy. The feeling of emptiness the half kryptonian boy’s absence had left him with. The reaction of honest to god fear when Jon came back in a way that was definitely socially unacceptable for him to be with.

Jon is cute. I like Jon. Jon likes me…

“Dami?” Jon said quietly, nervously. No, it was more than nerves now, he was afraid. He was afraid in the same way Damian had seen him in his older form. Rejection and heartbreak surly making the taste in his mouth bitter as apologies he didn't need to say weighed on his tongue.

“We’re on a date,” Damian finally said, peeking up from behind his finger. He said it as the statement it was and not the question from before.

“If you want to be,” Jon nodded, some of the fear falling away.

Damian took his hands away from his face but kept his eyes on the milkshake instead of Jon’s face. It was already starting to melt and turn sluggish in its tall cup.

“I want to be,” he said, a soft smile falling on his lips.

“Thank goodness, because I don’t know what I would tell Mom if I went home single,” Jon sighed in relief, then stopped. “That does mean you want to be my boyfriend, right?”

“I want to be your boyfriend,” Damian affirmed, smile growing wider. There was something fuzzy and warm and safe growing in his chest. It reminded him of Jon, as silly as it was considering Jon was the one who put it there.

“Thank goodness,” Jon repeated, letting his head fall on the table. “I think that was the most stressful thing I’ve ever done.”

“Jon, you’ve fought gods.”

“That was a hundred times easier than this was.”

“The milkshake is melting.”

Jon bounced up at that and quickly leaned forward to start gulping the sugary drink from his straw. Damian shook his head with a smaller smile and leaned forward as well.

His face lit up in heat once again when their noses brushed and Damian realized just how close there were, but he didn’t pull back. The milkshake was good, but it had nothing on the bashful and overwhelmingly happy look in Jon’s eyes. Damian was sure it was a look he could get drunk off of if he tried.

“We should probably get going,” Jon said with heavy remorse after they finished the milkshake.

“Probably,” Damian agreed, checking his watch. He wished he had the ability to make time stop, just for a second. He had just found out this was a date, and it was already ending. He would have to use the walk back to Drake and the clone to make up for that lost time.

As they walked down the sidewalk they finished their cookies and stared ahead at the near setting sun. When they were both finished, Damian took Jon’s hand and intertwined their fingers without looking towards him.

“Our next date you should take me to that sweets shop you’ve been talking about,” Damian said with a smile teasing his lips. He glanced from the corner of his eye just in time to catch Jon smiling a close lipped but wide smile. Domain was sure he would never get over how shy Jon could get in his civilian persona.

“I will,” Jon promised.

They reached the fountain they were meeting their brothers much too soon for Damian’s liking. Drake and clone spoted them right away, surly partially due to the oversized stuffed bear Damian was hulling along, and smiled upon spotting their intertwined fingers.

“I see the date went well,” Drake said with a devilish grin.

“No thanks to you,” Damian glared.

“He was just having a little fun,” the older Kent boy waved off Damian’s anger. “You figured it out before it ended at least.”

“Barely,” Damian rolled his eyes.

“But we still had fun,” Jon interjected. “Thank you for bringing Damian with you. It was a good first date.”

“First date as in there will be more,” the clone’s grin matched his fiance’s as he looked between them. “Jon you sly dog, did you get yourself a bat boyfriend?”

“Oh my God,” Jon mumbled, face going red in a new way for that day that was more familiar to Damian as his My Family is Embarrassing me Please Send Help face, as titled by his brother.

“He did,” Damian spoke up for him with a slightly puffed chest.

“I did,” Jon repeated with a smile down at Damian.

“Well, it’s time for me to get your little bat back to Gotham,” Tim interjected.

“Who are you calling little?” Damian raised an eyebrow. He was as tall as Drake and still growing. If it weren’t for Cain, Drake would have been the shortest of the bats.

“Can you please let me live in a fantasy where my little brother is still little for five minutes?” Drake pleaded with him.

Damian rolled his eyes again as Drake kissed his fiance goodbye.

Together they started to walk away from the Kent brothers and back to Drake’s car. Drake allowed the kick that came to his shins as they walked off and even smiled. When they got to the car, Damian had made up his mind.

“Hold this,” Damian said, passing the bear off to Drake as quickly as he could with a stuffed animal of it;s size. “If you drop Jon Jr. I won't hesitate to stick a blade in your shin.”

“Got it, no dropping,” Drake grinned at him over the bear. “Go get him.”

Damian nodded and ran back in the direction they had come from until he reached the fountain and spotted the Kent brothers walking in the other direction. He had to rush to keep up with even just their walking speed, reminding him of how much Jon had to control himself and slow down the entire day. Luckily his own speed, as human as it was, was enough to reach them before they got to the clone’s car.

Without a word, Damian grabbed Jon’s arm as he turned to face him, and pushed up onto his tiptoes to lock their lips together. Jon froze under his hand before melting into the kiss and sliding his hand into Damian’s hair and his other arm around his waist for support.

Damian pulled back with Jon chasing after his lips with his eyes closed. He smiled at the sight and pecked Jon’s lips one more time before parting fully and starting his run back in the direction of his brother’s car.

“You’ll call me, right?” he heard Jon yell behind him.

Damian turned on his heel to look back, “Get your phone fixed and I will.”

Then he kept running, a wide grin on his face.

Maybe sunny days in Metropolis weren't so bad after all.

#damian wayne #jon kent #jonathan kent #damijon #jondami #willow writes prompts #willow writes #tim drake #kon el #conner kent #timkon #batfam #batfamily #superfam #robin #superboy

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