#plus I have this short fic in my drafts for ages now and I still don't have the gut to post it | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

butgilinsky · 4 years

Text

someone will ache for your soul // np

warning; a lot of language i’m sry, argument btw best friends, talks abt a shitty ex bf but there’s nothing explicit

summary; in a world where you acquire tattoos across various parts of your body once you fall in love with someone, you have to hide yours from your best friend.

word count; 6.7k+

a/n: kind of a soulmate au but not really i guess? i saw this prompt somewhere online and idk where it’s from so the general idea of gaining tattoos from those you fall in love with is not mine but the rest of the fic is. okay thx bye(:

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When you were younger, you loved it. You loved looking down at your ankle and seeing the small butterfly just beside your ankle. You’d had it your whole life, though you still weren’t entirely sure how a tattoo grew up with you, but you accepted it. After all, it’s all that you knew.

Everybody’s born with a tattoo on their ankle, a small tattoo that has theirselves embedded into it. However, the older you get the more you realize that it’s not the tattoo you’re born with that makes the biggest impact on you, it’s others’. Every time you fall in love with somebody, your skin makes room for their tattoo on it. Your mom’s tattoo, a small star on her left ankle, shined bright from its place on your father’s wrist, somehow separate from the couple tattoos he collected over the years.

You remember the day you found out about the tattoos, perched in your mom’s lap and listening to her talk to your aunt about it. You remember tracing their tattoos with your small fingers while they told you various stories about their loves and how they grew up collecting tattoos on their skin. You were scared, asked your mom what happened if you never got any more than your single tattoo on your ankle. She told you that you would, that anybody would be lucky to collect your small butterfly somewhere on their body.

You remember the day you got your second tattoo, the paper plane that sat on the back of your left shoulder that now held the role as a painful reminder of your first love. You loved Cory, but the time for the two of you had come and gone. The paper airplane, though never in your line of sight, was still a painful reminder of the times you shared with the boy and how he broke your heart at the end of it all just before moving to college.

You had to go through senior year alone, newly broken up with and with your best friend hours away from home. You couldn’t blame Nolan, not when he was out doing the thing he loved so much. Being in Brandon was good for him, it was all that he wanted, and it wasn’t all that far away from Winnipeg anyways. You still drove out to see Nolan’s games, even if it ran up the miles on your car and had you spending late nights driving back home by yourself. You would’ve done anything for Nolan, and it truly showed during your senior year.

Nolan’s draft day was a rude awakening for you. You jumped up when his name was called, hugging him as tight as you possibly could before hiding your giddy expression behind your hands. You were excited for him, even if he was going all the way out to Philadelphia. You wanted him to be happy, and you could tell within seconds of his name being called that he was going to do just fine in Philly.

You didn’t notice until you got home and your heart sank into your stomach. Your adrenaline high had worn off, and the reality of everything around you began to sink in. You knew what it was the second you laid your eyes on it, black lines etched into the skin of your sternum. You thought it was an odd placement, though it was hard to miss it when you stepped out of the shower and it stood tall and proud and ready to be found.

You knew what it was, you’d seen the shape etched into Nolan’s ankle far more times than you could count. It mocked you, the snake coiled up the same way your memory sketched it out in your brain, and now it was imprinted perfectly into your skin. You touched it, rubbed it, tried to wash it off. You had just taken a shower, just washed the day off of you and down the drain and now you were standing in the middle of a hotel bathroom, rubbing at the spot between your breasts mercilessly. This couldn’t be happening, not to you, not when Nolan was about to move thousands of miles away from you.

But it was happening, because the black line that followed no real pattern never faded, despite the skin around it turning raw from your insistent attempts at washing it off. It was here to stay, no matter what happened in your life down the road. It didn’t matter that you had no heads up, no warning that you were falling head over heels in love with your best friend.

You knew it wouldn’t wash off, but that didn’t stop you from trying. These tattoos were forever, you knew that. You learned from a ripe, young age about obtaining your love’s tattoo. You learned about it growing up, you talked about it with friends and family, hell this wasn’t even your first tattoo that wasn’t your own. You knew the drill, you knew the routine, but that didn’t make it any easier to deal with.

You were 18, watching him sign contracts and make agreements of his big move in a few short weeks. You couldn’t believe it, that you were losing him in a time like this. It made dropping him off at the airport all that much harder, cheeks wet and eyes bloodshot as you clung to him for dear life. You knew his parents wanted to say bye, that his sisters were waiting patiently while you cried into his shoulder, but you couldn’t let go.

He didn’t know about the snake on your sternum, nor did you plan on telling him. You couldn’t drop a bomb like that on him just before he moved to a different country, finally living out the dream he’d had ever since you could remember. Nolan wasn’t Nolan without hockey, and you were aware of that. You were painfully aware of that.

So you didn’t tell him.

You spent too many nights curled up in your bed, clinging to your pillow to muffle the whimpers and whines that pushed through your lips and out into the air. You tried to ignore the sinking feeling in your chest at any given moment, and you did everything in your power to keep everything under wraps. You couldn’t tell anyone, no matter how bad it hurt to be in love with your best friend that now lived so far away from you.

It was hard, hiding it. You had to hide it from your family and friends, and sometimes that was easy. During the cold months you were seemingly off the hook, but when summer rolled around and your friends dragged you out to the lake every chance they got, you were in a bit of trouble. You had to carefully choose what bathing suits you wore and had to make sure nothing slipped or faltered throughout the day.

You’d made it three years without a slip up. Even on nights when Nolan came home and you were mere inches away from him, you couldn’t find it in you to tell him. Even when he was curled up into your side and holding you against his chest in the most comfortable way, you couldn’t say anything. You couldn’t make a move on him.

And now you were in Philly, standing in an arena that had you shivering but smiling brightly from the opposite side of the glass. You smiled every time Nolan skated by, even more when he assisted Travis in the first goal of the game and scored one of his own late in the second period. You were buzzing, adrenaline pumping and excitement shining deep in your chest. Watching Nolan do what he loved would never get old, not when the smile he wore was enough to wash away any fear or worry you’ve ever had.

You remember nights when you couldn’t sleep and Nolan would hold you. You remembered nights when you were crying over the phone to him and he snuck out of his room and into your own. You remembered fights you had and the way he made you walk home one night after one of your bigger ones.

You were walking out of TIm Horton’s, mere feet away from Nolan’s car before you tumbled into an argument you’d been trying to avoid for a few days now. You were dating Cory at the time, and Nolan couldn’t believe you were telling him that you couldn’t go to his game on Friday night, regardless of the fact that you’d promised him for weeks now that you’d be there. It was hard for you to catch games during the week, but this one was on a Friday night with plenty of time for you to finish the school day and drive over to Brandon.

But now you were telling him that you couldn’t go, and no matter how sorry you were, Nolan couldn’t forgive you. He said you’d blown him off for Cory more times than he could accept anymore. You had to call your sister, figuring she was the only one that would pick you up and give you a ride home without threatening to leave you in the parking lot in favor of beating Nolan to a pulp.

None of that mattered though. None of it mattered when you were faced with the boy you’d fallen in love with doing the thing he cherished most. When he left the locker room with a smile brighter than any of his teammates had seen in a long time that was directed straight at you, you knew none of it mattered.

Your feet left the ground, hanging in the air while your best friend clung to your frame tightly. He thanked you for coming, told you that he scored the goal just for you, that he scored every goal for you. You figured it was the adrenaline talking, that he was just basking in the big win against their biggest rivals. That plus the fact that Nolan could barely come to terms with the fact that you were here all for him.

You’d been in Philly before, had visited Nolan a few times over his years with the Flyers. You’d met practically everyone there was to meet and had gotten fairly close with his closest friends by default, seeing as they were always around when you were. Everything was going well this time around, everyone was having fun and getting along and it almost seemed like nothing could fall out of place.

You were standing in the kitchen with Nolan and Travis when Nolan’s name was called, beckoning him out into the rest of the house while you and Travis rallied drinks for the group. He tried to ignore them, tried to help you pile up on wine and beers for the rest of the group but Travis practically kicked him out of the kitchen. Travis said he could help you, that the two of you didn’t need Nolan’s help and that someone else clearly did.

It took all of five minutes for Travis to spill red wine all over your shirt. Thankfully for him, the few glasses you’d thrown back throughout the night washed over any sense of anger or annoyance you’d usually pick up and you simply laughed it off. He felt so bad, begged you to forgive him and let you buy him a new shirt, but all you did was insist that he find you a new one for now and that you could figure out the rest of it when the two of you weren’t tipsy and surrounded by your friends.

Travis ducked out of the kitchen for a second before turning back up and leading you into a hallway on the other end of the house. He told you that Claude never really let them wander his house without a little supervision, claiming that they break everything that they touch, but this was a special case. Claude loved you, and he wasn’t going to let you walk around with a wine stained shirt for the rest of the night, especially when it’s Travis’s fault in the first place.

You laid back on the bed in the room you were unfamiliar with, smiling up at the ceiling and humming to yourself while Travis dug through Claude’s closet.

“I know Ryanne has a stack of those shirts somewhere.” he spoke gently to himself, refraining from throwing clothes all over the room and instead digging for one through multiple piles. You laughed to yourself, not even sure if he knew that you could hear him.

“Just pick one, Teeks!” he huffed and chucked one at you, laughing loudly when it landed directly on your face.

You whined and sat up, reaching for the hem of your shirt without much thought surrounding the subject before peeling it off. All you could think about was how sticky your stomach had gotten from the red spot.

It was the small gasp that got you, the one that brought you back down to Earth and tore you out of your wine-induced haze. It was Travis’s eyes locked in on the spot in the middle of your chest that triggered every panic siren in between your ears.

“Is that-”

“TK you can’t tell him.” you rushed out, pushing yourself to stand up as you pressed a bright orange Flyers shirt against your chest. Your hands were shaking, and Travis’s eyes were glued to the spot of the tattoo even without being able to see it anymore. He knew what that snake was, he knew it all too well. He’d known Nolan for a long time now, and he’d seen the snake enough times to commit it to memory.

He was sure you had Nolan’s snake in the middle of your chest, and now Travis knew you were in love with Nolan.

“Trav, I’m serious.” he shook his head, trying to clear himself of the intrusive thoughts and nodded gently. He couldn’t tell Nolan. He wasn’t entirely sure how he was going to keep that from him, especially when he had been looking for your tattoo on Nolan’s skin for years now.

Travis wasn’t dense. He saw the way that Nolan looked at you, heard the tone he used when he talked about you. He saw how excited Nolan got when he knew you were about to fly into Philly, and he saw how upset Nolan got when you left. He might not have been the brightest bulb in the box, but he knew that there was something lying under the surface of you and Nolan’s friendship.

He tried to have this conversation before, had tried more times than he could count at this point. The only difference now was that there was hard proof, there was evidence that he was right all along. But now he couldn’t use that evidence, not when you were looking at him with wide eyes and begging him to keep it between the two of you.

“Fine, but we’re talking about this before you go back home.” you nodded, figuring that it was good enough for you if it meant he never told Nolan about it.

Except, there was one small problem.

The door swung open, dark and narrowed eyes landing on you and Travis, less than a foot between the two of you with you topless, a single shirt held between your hands and in front of your chest.

“My best friend?” the disappointment in his voice tugged at your heart and punched you in the gut simultaneously. The guilt hanging in your chest was barely justified, given this was one large misunderstanding, but the look on Nolan’s face was enough to have your shoulders falling.

“Nolan, it’s not-”

“My best fucking friend? Of all people you had to choose him?” his eyes were wide and glued to yours, anger mixing with disgust in the back of his mind. He couldn’t believe you’d do this to him.

“Pat, you don’t understand-”

“Fuck you.” Nolan spoke slowly and clearly, shooting Travis the sharpest glare he could produce. His voice sent a chill down your spine, unsure if you had ever heard him speak with such malice. “Both of you.”

Nolan spun on the balls of his feet and left the room, but you didn’t let him get far before you were following him. You tugged the shirt over your head, not even bothering to turn back to Travis to apologize before you were running after Nolan, calling his name down the hallway.

“Nolan, please-”

“I don’t want to hear it, honestly.” he threw over his shoulder, but you weren’t accepting that. You weren’t going to let him walk away right now, not when you didn’t do anything wrong.

“Just listen to me!” you stopped walking, stopped running. You stood in the middle of a hallway that had pictures lining the walls around you. Smiling faces and cheery laughs suffocated you in a time where you stood toe to toe with your best friend, the same one who was looking down at you like he’d never known you. “You don’t get to assume things and just walk away!”

“Yeah, well you don’t get to come out here after not seeing me for six months and sleep with my best friend! You don’t get to do that to me! You don’t get to use me to sleep with professional athletes.” any words you had swimming through your mind halted at his accusation. They fizzled out, unable to produce a coherent thought after you heard your best friend accuse you of using him.

“After all this time, you think i’m using you? You think that I came here to sleep with Travis?”

“You want to know what I think? I think you’ve always used me. You used me to escape your awful boyfriend in high school and you used me to leave home when things got bad. You used me to get over your shitty boyfriend when he left you in the fucking dust and here you are now, using me to sleep with my best fucking friend.” you were in shock, lips parted and throat constricting as you tried to let his words sit.

“If you wanted to whore yourself out to NHL players, you should’ve just said so, puck bunny.” The nickname weighed heavily in your chest, bringing you back to a time where Nolan went on and on about how much puck bunnies got under his skin. It brought you back to a time when Nolan would never call you that, would never even put you and the name in the same conversation.

“Patty!” Nolan’s eyes left yours, casting over your shoulder and locking with another pair that he might have been more furious at. Sure, he was angry at you. He couldn’t believe you’d do something like this, not after growing up with him just a few houses down. He couldn’t believe you’d stoop this low, but Travis? Travis knew how Nolan felt about you. Even if he didn’t admit it, even if he’d never say that was all true, Travis knew. He knew better than anyone how Nolan felt, and that made it all the more worse.

“Don’t talk to her like that.” you bit down on your bottom lip, hard enough to sting slightly but you couldn’t look away from where your eye level left you. You couldn’t look up at Nolan, not when he was this angry at you, and you surely couldn’t look at Travis. You knew that’d only make things worse.

“Now you get to tell me how to talk to her? Does that mean the two of you are a thing now? That’s funny, seeing as you have a girlfriend, Teeks. Didn’t know you were into home wrecking, y/n.”

“Fuck you.” you spoke softly, not even sure if he had heard you before he looked down at you with a puzzled look stretched across his face.

“So I can pick up TK’s sloppy seconds? No thanks, angel.” you shoved him then, shoved him hard. He didn’t move much due to the way his feet dug into the ground and he had muscle on you, but you got your point across by the force delivered to his chest.

“You’re a dick, you know that? You walk into a room and think you know everything that’s going on, but you don’t, okay? You don’t know what happens when you’re gone. You don’t know what happened in there or what happens at home when you’re here. You don’t know anything, okay?”

“That’s bold, given that I just walked in on you topless, seconds away from kissing my best friend, y/n-”

“Is there a reason you feel the need to keep reminding me that Travis is your best friend?”

“Because I need you to know that you’re not.”

The world titled on its axis then, the rude awakening you’d walked into becoming all too much for you to handle. With the realization that Nolan wanted nothing to do with you, you nodded once and walked around him so you could leave. It was only then that you noticed the audience you’d gathered, the better half of the Flyers roster circled around the room with a few of their significant others. You flashed everyone a pained smile and thanked Claude and Ryanne for inviting you before leaving the house.

You weren’t even down the driveway when your lungs gave way, gasping for air while tears streamed down your cheeks. Your heart hurt and your stomach turned, and you knew it was going to be a long night.

“You really are a dick.” Travis was going to walk past him, was going to avoid the lot of people and follow you outside. He knew you didn’t know where you were, nor did you have a way to get to or from anywhere else. You could order an uber to Nolan’s, but then what? Kevin might let you into the apartment but where would you stay? On the couch in a living room you weren’t welcome in? Not likely.

“I’m the dick? You know how I feel about her!”

“Nothing happened!”

“Bullshit, TK! I know that look on your face and I know that she sure as hell looked embarrassed-”

“I spilt wine on her shirt, you fucking idiot! I knocked into her when we were in the kitchen and I made her entire glass of wine spill down the front of her shirt, so I went to get her another one. I didn’t want her to sit in a soaking wet, stained shirt for the rest of the night so I went to get her another.”

“And she changed in front of you because-?”

“Because she was drunk and knew I wouldn’t make a move on her. Because she knows that I respect you and care about you far more than I care about making a move on her. I don’t look at her that way, Pat. You know I would never do that to you.” Nolan sucked on his teeth then, casting his eyes away from Travis’s and looking down at his feet.

“Do I?” Travis scoffed then, not bothering to give Nolan a response before walking past everybody else and out to his car.

After a few minutes of driving around, he found you at the park just down the street, leaning against the chain that supported the swing you sat on. He couldn’t see your tears from his car, but he could see the way you flinched when he shut the car door behind him.

“You okay?” you shook your head, eyes filled to the brim with tears that blurred your vision and broke Travis’s heart.

“I’m in love with him, Teeks. I love him more than anything in this entire world and he thinks I’m using him. He t-thinks- he thinks I-”

“Hey, it’s okay.” Travis pulled you onto your feet and into his chest, wrapping his arms tightly around you in order to attempt to calm you down.

“He thinks-” your sobs rang through the air, piercing through Travis’s heart and resulting in him squeezing you tighter, letting you get all of it out while no one else was around.

“He doesn’t think that. He knows you’re not using him, he just can’t bear to think about you with anybody other than him.” you shook your head, not allowing yourself to believe Travis, even though he knew Nolan pretty well. If there was anything to know about Nolan, you or Travis would know about it.

“He loves you, okay? He loves you more than he knows how to handle and he can’t handle losing you before he’s even had you.” you flinched when a car backfired, jumping inches off of the ground and making Travis laugh gently from beside you when you let out a shaky breath of relief.

Your eyes found the familiar car drive by, slowing down the slightest bit by the park only to take off towards the entrance of the neighborhood quite quickly. You knew it was Nolan, you knew that car by heart.

You ended up on Travis’s couch the night, wrapped in a warm pair of sweatpants that Travis threw in the dryer for you before giving them to you. You tied the drawstring in a tight knot so they’d stay up and pulled on a hoodie that he offered to you shortly after. He listened to you reminisce on all of the memories you had with Nolan. He learned more about his best friend and who he was growing up, but also learned a fair amount about you as well.

He felt for you. He couldn’t believe Nolan said all of those things to you, but he also knew that Nolan must not be doing well right now. He texted Kevin when he got back to his apartment, saying that you were safe with him, and that he’d text Nolan but didn’t for obvious reasons. Kevin assured Travis he’d let Nolan know you were safe, despite Nolan not asking about your well being. Not that he hadn’t thought about it, but he figured if he asked he’d be left with a less than likable answer.

Nolan didn’t sleep well that night, replaying how bad he fucked up over and over again in his mind. He didn’t believe you at first, didn’t even believe Travis when he told him what truly happened. He did, however, believe his captain when he said that Travis asked him for a shirt for you just a few minutes before it all happened. Ryanne brought out your wine soaked shirt after the two of you had left, and despite Nolan coming to terms with the fact that he was wrong, he couldn’t forgive himself for the things he said to you.

He couldn’t believe he accused you of it all before going on to accuse you of using him for your benefit. He knew it was stupid, since you’d been around far before the NHL. you were there when he got drafted, you were there when he was named captain of the Wheat Kings, and you were there when he almost quit hockey when he was younger. He remembered having you by his side through everything growing up and even now, even while living so far away from each other. If he called, you answered. If he needed help, you helped him. Hockey had nothing to do with that.

He looked down at the butterfly on his thigh, the one that took residence right beside another one of his tattoos, one that he had to keep hidden from you for well over two years now. He traced his finger over the small image, let his mind wander over all the possibilities of where yours could be if you had a snake somewhere inked into your skin. It’s a thought he often had, wondering where you’d want it, if you’d want it.

By the time Nolan came to his senses, it was too late. He’d already gotten through an entire practice and by the time he got back, by the time he got home, he realized you were gone. Your things that were piled into a corner of his room were gone. The jersey he’d given you for the game against the pens was folded up nicely on the pillow of his bed and a sticky note with your unmistakeable handwriting on it left a hole in his chest.

I’m sorry I ever made you doubt me.

He couldn’t reach for his phone fast enough, couldn’t call you enough times to break your voicemail box. He called Travis, pained to hear that you were already on a flight back to Winnipeg. He wanted to leave, wanted to drive to the airport right this second and catch a flight back home to tell you he’s incredibly sorry, but he couldn’t. He had a roadie in a few days and a game tomorrow night and he couldn’t just leave.

He did his best to contact you, tried to call every person in your family and was disappointed every time. Even when both of his sisters sat down and called him to collectively tell him that he was the biggest idiot either of them had ever met. Nobody could believe Nolan blew you off like that, not even Nolan himself.

He knew he fucked up, but he hadn’t realized how bad he fucked things up until one of your friends from back home posted a picture of you on social media a few months later. It had been at least four months since he’d spoken to you, since he saw you. It had been too long of him having nothing but the sliver of content he got from social media. He hated that his friends had chosen your side in the thick of it all, though he guessed it was easier to do that with him in Philadelphia and the rest of you in the same place.

But it wasn’t until a picture of you with a wide smile and a new bathing suit popped up on his phone that he knew the true weight of the situation in front of him. There you were, in a baby blue bathing suit that showed the same shape between your breasts that he’d grown up with beside his ankle. His tattoo was committed to memory, ingrained into his brain with no room to forget about it, especially when he saw it on you, etched into your skin the same way it had been etched into his.

He thought back to the paper airplane on your shoulder, the mark that had haunted him for years. He hated your boyfriend, hated the sight of his tattoo on your skin. He hated everything that had to do with the sheer thought of you with somebody else, even if he didn’t know how to deal with that. And now, with his thumb sitting on the butterfly on his thigh and his eyes on the snake on your sternum, he knew he had to fix this. He knew he had to fix things because these tattoos, though permanent themselves, didn’t guarantee him a life as your boyfriend, nor your husband.

Nolan remembered a time when he thought these tattoos were stupid. He remembered when he thought it was a thing for soulmates and you told him that thought was wrong, that it just reminded you of a love you felt, even if it was eventually lost. He remembers you telling him that you were scared you’d never be loved forever, that you were scared to only be loved momentarily.

But that wasn’t the case. Nolan would never stop loving you. He couldn’t forget about the way your laugh brightened his day without question, or the way your nose scrunched when you laughed. He couldn’t forget about the way you bugged him for ice cream on a bad day, or how good you looked with his name and number stretched across your back.

He couldn’t remember a day he wasn’t in love with you.

So Nolan flew to Winnipeg the second the Flyers’ season was over. He didn’t bask in getting knocked out of the playoffs like some of the other guys, didn’t dwell on the loss in the sixth game of the series because he couldn’t. He couldn’t dwell on a loss when he was so focused on trying to prevent a second one.

He had called everybody he could think of once he got off the plane. Some didn’t answer, some didn’t know the answer to his question, and some just flat out refused to humor him. You weren’t home, he knew that much by the absence of your car in the driveway and your sister telling him that you weren’t there, and that she wouldn’t let him inside even if you were. It wasn’t until he rounded a familiar corner after a phone call he’d been thankful for.

Jordan told him where you were, unable to lie to his childhood friend when you were hanging out with everyone. You were wearing a bathing suit again, though it didn’t matter for a while. The sun was high in the air and you weren’t the only that had shed yourself of your coverup earlier in the afternoon. You were playing basketball with Jordan, oblivious to the fact that he’d given you up just ten minutes prior to the gate door swinging open and Nolan letting himself into the backyard.

Your eyes found him easily, as if he was a magnet you could never repel. Your shoulders fell for a moment, your instinct of wanting to comfort him seeping in before you could tell it not to. Of course you kept up with his team, watching every game you possibly could until the very last one. You knew he’d been knocked out of the playoff less than 48 hours ago, and you had no idea he was coming home.

You hadn’t realized the weight of the situation until you noticed his eyes locked in on your chest. You folded your arms over your chest in an attempt to cover the snake, but it didn’t make Nolan look anywhere else.

“Who told you I was here?” your voice was soft. You knew he didn’t drive around the entire town looking for your car, though you weren’t sure it was something too far out of his reach. Nolan would do just about anything to get something if he wanted it bad enough.

“Bo did.” you glared at the boy not far from you, the one that you shouldn’t have trusted with something like this in the first place. You should’ve known Jordan would do something like this.

“Patty, what the fuck?”

“Just shut up, Bo.” Jordan rolled his eyes and tossed the basketball to Nolan who smacked it away and into the grass.

“Well, I don’t want to talk to you.” you tried to stand your ground, even with Jordan giggling to himself before walking over to your friends not too far from where you currently stood.

“Just give me five minutes.”

Nolan’s eyes bore into yours, the same pair of bright blue eyes that you had been avoiding for months. You wanted to answer every call and every text, but how could you? How could you pick up the phone and listen to his voice through the speaker after all he’d said to you in front of his entire team. And then on top of it all, he left you stranded in Philly, in the middle of a city, country even, where you had nobody to turn to and nowhere to go.

“I know you don’t want to talk to me-”

“Then leave, Nols.” he shook his head, taking a step towards you. “I don’t want to talk to you.”

“I know I hurt you-”

“You’re right! You hurt me! You hurt me so bad Nolan and I can’t go through that again so if you’re here to let history repeat itself, then can you just go?” he shook his head, firmly planting his feet into the ground and refusing to move.

“I know you don’t want to see me or listen to me or give me the benefit of the doubt but I need you to hear me out.” you sighed, letting your arms fall to your side. You weren’t sure how he seemingly broke down all of your walls without even lifting a finger. You watched his eyes flick down to the image on your chest, you even let him raise a finger once he stood in front of you and trace the shape of the snake. “It suits you, y’know?”

“Did you really come all this way to tell me that this suits me?” there was a hint of amusement in your voice, enough of it to bring a smile to Nolan’s lips.

“I know I fucked up-”

“Big time.” you cut him off, shooting him a gentle smile and nod that told you you’d stop interrupting him. “Sorry, continue.”

“I know I fucked up and I said a lot of shit I didn’t mean and that’s not an excuse but- look, I know i shouldn’t have said all of that shit. I should’ve believed the two of you. I should’ve believed you when you told me nothing happened and I shouldn’t have said you were using me. I know you’re not using me. There was no way you could’ve known that I was going to be in the NHL, and you wouldn’t have stuck around all this time just to be a puck bunny.”

It wasn’t like you to forgive all that easily. You drew lines in the sand and refused to let someone fuck you over twice. You weren’t big on second chances, especially when you thought people didn’t deserve them. You were a straight shooter, no bullshit. But those walls cracked for Nolan, they fell for Nolan. None of your boundaries were drawn in place with Nolan in mind. He had broken down every wall, overstepped every boundary since the day he met you. You couldn’t block him out, couldn’t lead him out of your life.

As much as you hated to admit it, you needed Nolan Patrick. You were in love with Nolan Patrick.

And the little butterfly on his thigh told you that he loved you all the same.

Your lips turned up at the sight, your eyes locked in on the place where his shorts had ridden up and the small image danced happily on his skin.

“How long have you had that?” you pointed down at it, barely noticing the way his eyes stayed trained on you through the entirety of the situation. You were looking at his tattoo, but he was looking at you. He was always looking at you, which only made it that much more surprising that he hadn’t picked up on the snake on your chest.

“Since before I got drafted.” he spoke softly, hitting you with a force you didn’t know existed. You were floored by the realization, somewhat thinking that he’d only had it for a small bit of time. You’d seen his thighs, seen his tattoos and you’d never seen the small butterfly etched into his skin.

“How long have you had that?” his finger traced over the snake one more time, sending a chill down your spine that you had felt more times than you could count when you were around Nolan. It was a feeling that was never expected but always welcome.

“Draft day.” you breathed out, feeling the weight of the world lift off of your shoulders. You were finally admitting it, finally letting the love of your life know just how long you’ve been a mess for him. Little did you know how much of a mess he was for you.

“I’m so sorry, y/n.”

“It’s okay.” you spoke softly, a smile gracing your lips at the realization that things were falling back into place, even after all this time of not talking to him.

“It’s okay?” you nodded, taking another step toward him so you were chest to chest.

“As long as you don’t fuck it up again.” he let out a small laugh, his hands finding the sides of your face just before pressing his lips to yours.

“I wouldn’t dream of it.”

italics mean it wouldn’t let me tag you!!

nolpat tag list; @extratragic @babytkachuks @teenagekook @stfukie @kiedhara @sadcupofcoffee @sidscrosbyy @rebel-without-care @baby-cat-nol-pat @creator-appreciator

tagging the himbos as well; @bricksatlandyswindow @damndunner @anxietyandtacos @sortagaysortahigh @dmonchld

#nolan patrick #nolpat #nolan x reader #nolan patrick x reader #nhl #nhl fic #nhl imagine #hockey fic #hockey #hockey imagine #philadelphia flyers #flyers

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lovenhlboys · 4 years

Text

From a Distance (E.Pettersson X Reader)

Chapter 1

Masterlist

Tag list form

A/n: hello peoples!! I’m so excited to FINALLY post the first chapter of this fic!!! I’ve been working on it for a long time, and after a few unpleasant delays, it’s finally happening 😁. While this isn’t my first fic, this is my first NHL fic, and the first fic I’m posting on Tumblr, so I’m a little nervous. This first chapter is mostly the set up to the main story, this is reader’s side of things with a flashback story. Chapter two will be mostly from Elias’s point of view. The rest of the chapters will switch back and fourth between the two.

CREDIT: Finally, before we get started I have to shout out my proofreaders. Y’all put up with me and my insanity: @siriushxney @iateyourdonuts @petey-patty @hufflepuff-girlx @cherrylita @immmbabyyygraceee @💕💕And specifically @imagines-r-s ASH!!! Babes, you have been the best and most supportive friend I could’ve asked for during this. You boosted my confidence about this fic and I have no idea what I’d do without you 😁😁

Without further ado, let’s get started shall we!! (Sorry for the long A/N, it’ll only be for this first chapter)

Paring: Elias Pettersson X Fem!Reader

Warnings: lots of cursing, friends with benefits but like...just cuddling???, references to iCarly, mentions of One Tree Hill.

Genere: enemies-ish —>friends —> lovers

Legend: (i suggest having these ready before you read)

Y/C/N/N= your cute nick name, only Markstrom calls you it (you’ll see why) this can be either a pet name you like, or a nick name you already have.

Y/N/N= your nick name, Brock, Quinn, and a few others call you this, it’s more of a playful name. Again, this can be a nickname you already have (if you don’t have one I suggest something stupid (sounds like something Stech or Brock would come up with)

Y/N= this is your first name, only Elias calls you this unless it’s a serious situation, or you’re in trouble, or Brock is being an ass. (If it wasn’t clear before...your last name is Boeser)

Word Count: 2.2k

Summary: you have a hardcore crush on your brothers best friend, who also happens to barely speak to you...it’s a slight predicament.

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(This is set in the 2021 season, however, because of my denial, Marky and Stech are still in Vancouver and were never traded... also no Covid. however the season was still delayed just to make it easier to follow.)

Present (Feb. 2021)

You’ve always been best friends with your older brother, you never had any real issues when you were younger and you were inseparable. So much so in fact, that once you graduated early a little less than two years ago (June 2019), he asked you to move to Vancouver and live with him. He was always so protective of you and you appreciated everything he has done in your life. One of the best parts about Brock being your older brother was the people he introduced to you. You aren’t very social and god knows how much of a people person your brother is. Once you had moved in, Brock quickly introduced you to the team. And with your double major in Statistics: Data Sciences and Sports Management, you were able to secure a job with the team. Quickly, you found yourself with a second family, one with many members.

Quinn Hughes is your best friend. when you met him about a year and a half ago, you hit it off immediately. With both of you being the same age and not very social, there was an obvious connection there. When Brock and The boys go out, it is you and Quinn who stay in and watch shows on the couch (your favorite being New Girl). Huggy Bear is so sweet and you tell him EVERYTHING, even things you’d never tell your brother. You are still thanking the draft lottery every day that the Canucks received the 7th overall pick that gave you your bestie.

Thatcher Demko AKA Dems AKA Thatch AKA baby goalie is the sweetest and most hilarious guy you know. He is always looking after you just like Brock, but he is also one of the most annoying guys you know. When you’d first met you had the biggest crush on him. You told Quinn as much and he gave you so much shit for it. That crush was short-lived though, once you found out how obnoxious he could be. You still love him, just as a friend. Though Quinn never forgets to remind you of the crush that once was.

Bo Horvat is like another big brother to you. Sure you have Brock, but he’s your best friend. Bo, however, is the person you go to when you needed advice. Holly is one of the only WAGs you’ve become close with. She and you consistently have wine and gossip nights, of which Quinn is sometimes in attendance. Plus, you and Quinn are an amazing babysitting team for Gunnar if you have anything to say about it.

Troy Stecher is the annoying older brother you never had. He always makes fun of you, calls you names, and bullies you in the loving way brothers do. And he never hesitates to come to you if he ever needs girl advice, which seems to happen a lot.

JT was just like Bo, except he is waaay more protective of you, maybe even a bit more than brock. He doesn’t have a sister and when you met, he made it his job to never see you get hurt. Seriously, one day a guy was bugging you at the bar, and both Brock and Bo were struggling to hold him back when he saw him slap you on the ass as you walked away.

Jacob Markstrom, AKA Marky, AKA Giraffe (pronounced like it is in one of your favorite vines), AKA your cuddle buddy for the past few seasons. Both being single, you felt lonely sometimes and Quinn wasn’t much of a hugger (despite what the nickname might have you believe). Thatcher had offered but Marky, though just as social, is much more laid back. It also helps that he is 6’6 putting him over a foot taller than you. So during movie nights, or late nights at the bar, he is the side you lean on. Of course, you made it abundantly clear to most of the boys and yourselves that you were just friends. As sweet as he was and as great of a boyfriend as he would’ve been, he wasn’t quite your type and your personalities clashed.

Then there was Elias Pettersson, the tall, skinny, Swedish guy you knew as Petey. The guy who looked at you often and barely spoke a word directed towards you. He was Brock's best friend and he came over all the time, you didn’t have an issue with him, and you couldn’t deny he was funny, and from what you’ve heard he is a very kind person. So naturally, he was exactly your type. You’ve had a massive crush on him for a while now, somehow despite the lack of conversation. And the few times he has talked to you, he’s seemed so perfect, but there are only a few times you can remember.

Right now, as you're on your way to the Canuck’s break room your brother texted you to meet him in, you try to recall those few times, specifically the one where your crush on him truly developed.

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FLASHBACK (some time in January, 2020)

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You, Quinn, and Jacob were laying on the L-shaped couch in ‘The Boeser apartment’, you were cuddled under the blanket with Jacob, laying on the section perpendicular to the TV, your heads at the corner. Quinn was on the other side of the couch, his head right next to yours. it was about 7 o’clock and the episode of One Tree Hill you were watching had just ended and you three had not eaten dinner yet. As the countdown for the next episode started, your stomach growled and you got a look from Quinn and a giggle from Jacob.

“You hungry Y/C/N/N?” Jacob asked.

You looked up at him and giggled, “maybe just a little bit.”

“Y/N/N, you know what sounds amazing?” Quinn asked, you could hear the smirk in his voice.

You turned to each other and you both smirked knowing you were thinking the same thing.

“Spaghetti tacos!!” You both said.

Ever since you were about 10 and you watched iCarly on TV, you had always wanted to try them. It had become an inside joke between you and Quinn for quite some time as he had the same desire as you to see how good they actually were.

“We should totally try them tonight!!” Quinn was quite excited.

“I’m so confused right now,” Jacob chimed in.

“They’re from a show! They take spaghetti and put it in taco shells,” you explained.

“Ahh, hence the name.” he nodded.

“Exactly,” Quinn said.

You jumped up from the couch excitedly and ran straight to your kitchen.

“Ok, we have spaghetti, spaghetti sauce, ground beef, taco shells, aaaand..... by chance do either of you know how to make good meatballs?”

“You’re asking the Swedish guy if he knows how to make meatballs?” Jacob replied.

“Not Swedish meatballs, Italian, stupid Giraffe,” you retorted.

“Gross,” he said with a disgusted look.

“Ooo my mom made the best Italian meatballs, let me call her to see if she can send me the recipe!” Quinn said with a big smile.

Quinn exited the kitchen and ran to your room to call his mom.

“You know, I’ve never seen him so excited about anything,” Marky said with a laugh.

“Quinn loves his food,” you replied.

“Are Brock and Thatch having dinner with us ?”

“I’ll ask.”

You started boiling the water for the pasta, and you cooked part of the ground beef for the meat sauce. Then you texted Brock:

Y/N/N: hey, you want me to make you dinner

Brock: Yeah, who all is there?

Y/N/N: the usual

Brock: Huggy and Marky?

Y/N/N: yep, so do you want some?

Brock: Yeah, and make enough for another person too

Y/N/N: ok

You figured it was Dems since that’s who he went to hang out with when he left 5 hours ago.

You continued to cook when Quinn came in and grabbed a bunch of stuff from the pantry and cabinets. “Did your mom tell you how to make them?” you questioned your frantic best friend.

“Yes she did and she sent me the recipe too.”

“Coolio,” you reply.

------------------------

You were almost done cooking, the pasta was done, Quinn had put his meatballs in the oven and there were only 5 minutes left on the timer. And the sauce had about 2 minutes to simmer.

“Oh my gosh, I forgot what to do when they're almost done, she does this thing, I have to call her,” Quinn said with a panicked look on his face. He ran back to your room.

The front door to your apartment opened quickly, both boys laughing, “ahh, shit, my brother’s calling me,” Brock said as he ran back to his room.

“Why does everyone feel the need to exit the room for phone calls?” you asked Jacob.

He shrugged with a giggle, “I don't know, maybe they don’t trust us,” he said in a sarcastically dramatic tone grasping his chest.

The door closed slowly and you glanced at the doorway where you thought you’d see the ever adorable goalie, Thatcher Demko, instead, you saw the adorable, slender, tall blonde you’d seen all the time, but never had a one on one interaction with... except the first time you met, when he told you that you looked pretty.

“Hi, Petey!” Jacob said as he slipped behind you to watch you mix the sauce, he stood over you looking at the sauce and put his hand on your waist.

“Hi,” he replied, his smile from before had faded.

“Looks so good Y/C/N/N,” Jacob said with a kiss on your cheek, a regular action.

“Thanks, Giraffe, can you grab the taco shells?”

He grabbed them easily from the top shelf (tall ass bitch -_-), and moved behind you, placing his hands on your waist yet again, to move you to the side. “I've gotta run to the bathroom, but I’ll be right back”

“Ok, you have fun with that,” you said with a wink.

Suddenly, was only you and Elias in the room, and the silence was deafening.

“So what are we eating?” he said, pulling your attention to his bright blue eyes.

“Um, spaghetti tacos, they're from a tv sho-”

“Like from iCarly?” he interrupted.

“...Uh yeah? How'd you know?” you couldnt pull your attention away from his eyes, ‘they are just so beautiful,’ you thought somehow you hadnt noticed this within the on and a half years you’d known him.

“We also get Nickelodeon, you know,” he said while throwing you a smirk that made your stomach flip.

“Oh, I didn't know that,” you replied, feeling just a little embarrassed.

“iCarly was my favorite, actually.”

“Yeah, it was mine too,” you said, smiling back, looking at the way he just lit up your kitchen with his presence.

You both stood there for a second just looking at the other, “So how long have-,” he started.

“OKAY,” Quinn unknowingly interrupted, “so she told me what to do, turns out I have to put sauce over them for the last 2 minutes, so Y/N/N can you just put a tablespoon of sauce on each ball then put them back in for two minutes?”

“Yeah of course. Elias, you were saying?” you looked back at the Swede.

“Oh it's nothing,” he looked down at his shoes.

“Ok, Y/N/N you need to call mom and tell her we’re fine and that she doesn't need to worry about us please, Paul says she’s stressing,” Brock said as he entered the room.

“When is she not stressing about us? I’ll call her after dinner, how's dad?”

“Doin’ good, nothing has changed or progressed or whatever since we were home last,” Brock moved and sat on the couch letting out a big sigh.

“That’s good,” you let out a sigh.

“Petey, come here, we’re watching Gossip Girl” Brock shouted at the Swede.

“Ooo what episode are you guys on?” you asked. Brock had mentioned how he was making him watch the show you two had watched about 5 times together.

“Just after Chuck gets Dan kidnapped at Yale.”

“Oh so you still hate Chuck?” you asked Elias.

“Ew, yeah...wait is that gonna change?” Petey said with a scoff.

“Uh....,” you stalled.

“Y/N shut up, don't spoil it,” Brock interrupted before you could make it worse.

“Ok well, dinner is ready so just start the show after and we can all watch it together.”

--------------------------

“Oh my god, these are actually amazing,” Quinn said with his mouth full.

“I know, I did not think this was gonna taste good,” Jacob added.

“Hey!” you said, offended.

“Y/C/N/N, you know I love your cooking, it was the idea of the meal that I doubted,” Jacob said leaning into your side and putting his arm around your shoulder.

“Mmmhmm, suuure,” you said, rolling your eyes.

“Hallå Marky, ni två är söta (hey Marky, you two are cute),” Petey said, confusing you, Quinn and Brock with the sudden change in language.

Jacob, being oblivious to what Petey was implying, just said, “tack broder (thanks, bro).”

Little did you know what was going on in Elias’s head.

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PRESENT

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Before that night, you never really thought of Elias in a romantic way. You'd been around him quite a lot, seeing as how, seemingly, is in your apartment more than his own. Sure, you knew he was cute and very sweet from what you'd seen, but up until that point, you'd never had a one-on-one interaction with him. That interaction, however small, was the beginning of an obsessive crush. Quinn was the first to point it out, you started listening closely any time he talked, attempting to converse with him, and thinking about him on a daily basis even when you didn't see him. And due to your stubbornness, no matter how unrequited your crush seemed, it never faltered. You had always thought he hated you, or maybe he just tolerated you because you were Brock’s sister, and you were always around.

However, that couldn't be farther from the truth.

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Tag list: @calgarycanuck @suffering-canucks-fan

#from a distance: series #pls let me know what you think!!#hockey #nhl #elias pettersson #vancover canucks #elias pettersson fic #brock boeser #elias pettersson x reader #elias pettersson imagines #elias pettersson imagine #vancouver canucks imagines #vancouver canucks fic #hockey fic #nhl fic #nhl imagine #nhl imagines #hockey imagine #hockey imagines

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mxvladdy · 4 years

Text

Diavolo- True Form

Whoooooooo weeeee! ‘Pologies for the wait on these longer posts. I’ve been hit with a one two punch of house emergencies and sudden costly ass repairs, so my creative juices have been rightly squashed as of late.

Plus side I got my drawing tablet and drafting table back so I can neaten up my blog lay out now (yay!)

Anyway this one was a challenge in the best possible ways. I really like Diavolo because of how little we know about him so it gave me some wiggle room. Or at least what I know of him- im only on like chapter 23 of the stories. Idk if I did him justice as this is angsty af but I sure had a blast writing it!

Hope ya like! Next up: Beelzebub

Trigger warning: Mention of blood, and swearing.

Diavolo-

He'll never show you, so don't ask. His true form is god-like in its own right and such knowledge, such truly raw demonic power in its natural form is not for your mortal eyes.

No matter what your lineage, it would break you. And despite his roles and being the literal devil, he doesn’t want you suffering.

Sometimes when he thinks you wouldn't notice he relaxes his hold on reality, just a fraction. He wants to relieve some of the tension that is always building just below the surface. Like closing your eyes when you have a tension headache. The mental energy he has to exert to keep face is enormous. Regular glamour doesn’t work nearly as well as his own, or Barbato’s magic.

But you see hints during your downtime spent in his company. A ripple in his reflection on the window pane. Unexplainable shadows dancing across his exposed skin. Too many teeth in his mouth when he laughs. Sometimes when you stare into his eyes you see something indescribable staring back behind them. His usually warm and inviting gaze darkening. A barest flicker, a hulking bestial thing kept locked behind in his golden gaze. It's enough to freeze the blood in your veins.

On certain nights when you can slip away from the brothers you stay in his room. Lying awake, you watch his magic wane and shift as he slumbers. Sometimes you see runes, or at times letters. You are tempted to write them down and ask Solomon. But something stops you each time.

The worst images are the faces. Unknown souls trapped beneath his flesh clawing to be freed. Silent screams fading back into his body as he dreams. Your fragile fingers trace the patterns they leave as you wait for the next day wrapped in his embrace.

Only once have you seen more of his form then he would ever wish. The depths of his strength and mental fortitude were unknown to you so the slip up took you both by surprise. He masks the error well, but the sudden shift in energy in the room couldn’t be suppressed .

You are suddenly so aware of the oppressive weight of gravity on your frame. Your bones grinding together under the force of his aura. You panic, desperate by the need to breathe, but are unable to draw even the smallest bit of oxygen as it is robbed from the room. Time and reality wrapped too, distorting in ways only you thought only Barbatos could do. You knew in that moment the sudden dread of death, how mortally was but a rusty shackle tethering you down.

He collects himself, dispelling the energy and locking his glamour down tight to protect you. But that split second of fury felt like an eternity to you as you sink to the floor. You hiccup a shaky sob and shiver. Your fragile human mind bowing under the strain of what it cannot comprehend. Scolding hot tears fall from your cheeks, before splashing crimson the stone below you.

You didn't approach him again for over a month. No matter how strong you are, some things were better off unseen.

Mini Fic

He didn’t know. For once in his ancient pitiful existence, he had been unaware of his surroundings. It had been for just a moment, one tiny crack in his veneer. The foolishness of Mammon and Belphegor’s actions finally poked the right nerve. He wouldn’t hurt them, for Lucifer’s sake. That prideful demon would never forgive him if he did. But he could scare them. A quick look at his true self; a flash of the deepest bowels of hell. Enough to give them a reminder of their positions and standing in his court. He had expected their whimpers of fear, could taste the acidic tinge of it exuding from their pores. What he didn’t expect though was your blood curdling screams alongside.

Ironically, he would have to thank the second eldest later. His fast thinking is the only thing that saved you from complete damnation. His body shielded yours, taking the brunt of the stronger daemons hellish might for you. What little magic Mammon still had left used to protect you. Though, while your vision was blocked, you could still feel his oppressive presence. It racked your mortal flesh. Diavolo knew what affects his power had on humans. He spent years breaking and consuming damned souls with zeal after all.

The brothers had run from him after that, screaming for Simone. Barbatos following close behind, a look of consternation on his usually impassive face. You had been so limp in Mammon's arms. Diavolo could do nothing, shocked by his own weak will and realization that he might have ruined everything. You had been whisked away so quickly by his faithful servant and the brothers that he hadn’t had a chance to look you over himself. But the brief moment he saw will haunt him for years to come. Your eyes red from the sudden haemolacria, the blood staining your clothes and face. Your fingers digging away at your soft skin, black and purple blotches staining what he could see. Mouth opened wide on a silent scream. He knew what you must have seen. The souls of the damned trapped under his glamour breaking free to latch on to your unmarred soul trying to drag you back with them.

Against his butler's advice he stands at your door now days later trying to see you. He couldn’t sit around and just hear updates second hand. The brothers had been keeping guard most days in a valiant attempt to keep him away. But he could only be waylaid for so long before he used his rank against them.

He had arranged a full council meeting. Every one of the brothers knowing full well it was to get them out of his way. Yet, the order was absolute. This time none of the brothers could reject it. Barbatos would keep them in that room for eternity if he so wished for it. He hated using his age and power against them, but he saw no other way to get to you.

It was foolish now, standing as he was in front of your door. A part of him hoping you would turn the knob and let him in. Let him comfort you for once, instead of the asinine distractions the brothers offered. He could help too. Hells, he wanted to. He wanted to be closer to you. Power discrepancy be damned. The other part of him knowing it was for the best that you didn’t. Your guardian and tormentor all in one. He listens to your muffled sobs for a moment fighting with his feet to stay cemented to the floor instead of heading back in defeat.

"When my father was still around he took me down to the deepest depths of the kingdom. Where the worst of the traitors and sinners are imprisoned." His deep baritone rumbles through your door during a break in your crying. "It’s a place few seldom go; even now I have yet to return. Back then he told me ‘there will never be a human soul that is undeserving of punishment. Even the ones destined for the celestial realm are tethered to sin.’ At that time I believed him. The things I saw in your realm... " The prince chuckles wearily.

He remembers the ever present scowl on the old King's face. His dark eyes looking out at the sea of damned souls he controlled. Even as a young daemon, fresh into his wings and still sharpening his horns to impress others he could tell how much his father detested his position. How it had warped him, turning him bitter and cold, even to his mate and only child.

Diavolo never wanted to be like that. Not to the ones he supposedly cared for at the very least. "I think that is why he hated the other realms so much.” He continued. “Humans, for their ability to choose which realm they would eventually end up in after they pass. That even the worst sinners could find redemption enough at the last moment to get to the pearly gates. While daemons, no matter how well they served, or the duties they did for the good of their own would never be seen as equals to our celestial counterparts or yours. That this existence is all we'll ever be destined to have. Nightmares and monsters, stories to tell little human children to keep them in line.” He pauses, collecting himself. “I believed wholeheartedly that every human deserved the punishments only my kind could dowel out. But, in this past year I have spent with you, I find myself changing. You are so undeserving of such torment. Somehow you are understanding and forgiving beyond measure to us. You handle our ill tempers with such grace. For daemons such as us, it is staggering, and humbling. I regret that I have hurt you so deeply and have broken your trust. I swear it as the head of this realm I would never intentionally do so." He looks at the door handle willing it to open. " I am so sorry."

Your crying picks up again. Huge heaving sobs that rattle your chest. Great Father, he just keeps making it worse. Clearing his head Diavolo turns.

Rejection of this nature was new to him. No one had ever dared to ignore him, especially such as this. The royal in him- his father's blood- seethed that he would even stoop so low as to grovel to a short lived thing like yourself. Even deeper yet, it demanded another taste of your essences. You little soul kept safe behind your rib cage. He wanted it added to his collection, kept tucked away deep within his maws.

It was sick; it was wrong. He chokes on the idea. The intrusive thought burrowing deep. How deplorable was he? Perhaps the angels were right to keep him out of heaven.

You didn't show to class the following day, or the days after. Unsurprising to him and the seven of the inner council. He figured the other day wouldn’t change anything. But it was utter agony to him. These days trapped in his office only getting short and curt updates on your health from Lucifer. It had been a special kind of torment.

Today he sat once again at his desk staring at some godforsaken bitching of a royal cousin. He knew this whelp. Some backwater thrice removed eons ago. Yet he was demanding an audience? The gall. The ink of their eligible handwriting makes him cross eyed. Would this day ever cease? He looks to his hourglass, the sands within seemingly frozen in time.

"My Lord, perhaps you should take a moment to stretch your legs?" Barbatos moved from his corner. Gloved hand coming to rest on top of the same three lines he had been reading for the past two hours. "This work could wait another evening I’m certain ."

"Did I do the right thing my friend?" Diavolo doesn't even bother answering the question his servant posed. They both knew he wouldn't. "This program. Our human exchange students. Solomon is one thing, but-"

"Your will and path is absolute." Barbatos states. "There are no mistakes within you, merely stumblings onto different paths."

With a gentle push Barbatos moves the hulking demon out of his way to collect and organize the scrolls and letters scattered about the large desk. "You made the right choice bringing them here. Look at what they have done. They are entertainment to you are they not?"

The prince rose knocking his desk aside and descended on his butler. His true form out in all its unholy glory now. His highly condensed magic distorting the study as if he was a black hole. The axis of the room shifts. His priceless collection of books and toys disintegrating from the cold radiation he emits.

It was all for show really. There was nothing he could do to an ancient being such as Barbatos. So he lashed out, throwing a tantrum in the security of his office. The hopeless agitation he felt fueling the flames of his rage. His butler had only added holy water to his already festering wounds.

Barbatos had been by his side for time in memoriam. The crafty bastard had helped raise him. Had shaped him into the ruler he was today. If anyone could break and remold him it would be his oldest companion.

The dark haired daemon waited for the waves of agitation to dry up. Moving only when the prince was in his more presentable demonic form. Large barrel chest heaving as he reined himself in. “Are you back to your senses?” He asks coolly, already categorizing the items to replace and furniture to be mended.

"I had not meant for it to go like this." Diavolo croaks into his hands collapsing back on what remained of his desk. Building a bridge between realms, yes. That noble idea was the greater purpose of this program, but the rest of it. The classes, and dances. The parties where he threw his newest toys about to see how they would react to things other mortals worshiped? That had been for his own curiosity and amusement. Lesser beings navigating a foreign world blind to the dangers that were right under their very nose. Bring a mortal with no magic into his realm? Deep down he knew this was an inevitability. Especially with the freedoms he granted them. He just didn’t think he would get so attached.

“No one believes that you would hurt them on purpose.” His butler cuts off his downward spiral. “It would ruin the program. That is what you are so stressed about, right?” Barbatos eyes him skeptically. Diavolo, himself, and Lucifer had spent many sleepless weeks constructing and negotiating this program. If the Arch Angels heard a mortal was hurt down here it could very well end this little escapade. But the look in the prince’s eyes told a different story.

A warm glow emanated from his cheeks and he was unable to meet the old daemon’s gaze. Ah. "Or perhaps things have changed?" Barbatos smiles coyly up from beneath his bangs. "You are your mother's son after all. Neither of you were ever able to stem your bleeding hearts for long." Diavolo squawked indignantly but didn’t argue. Instead he merely turns a darker shade of red and curses under his breath.

He skipped out on court that evening. Not that he cared much. The other nobles would no doubt use the time to gossip about his whereabouts and uncouth behavior of late. Truth be told, he was avoiding the brothers more than anything else. They had made it expressly clear (some more then others) how they felt about him currently. He wouldn't doubt that Belphegor had a few more brothers on his side now.

Instead he stood at your door once more with a tea tray in hand. He had bumped into Simone on the way. The angel had come to bring you dinner and to check up on the last of your wounds. Celestial magic worked miracles on those who have been touched by the darker arts. Diavolo was grateful for his talents. And, by some miracle, Simone had made it abundantly clear he was not going to bring this to the higher ups on his end either.

Upon seeing the prince slinking up the house's stairwell the other man had simply smiled and offered him the tray. “I suddenly got a message from Luke. Could you perhaps drop this by our friend’s door?” Diavolo had accepted without preamble, large hands dwarfing the platter of little tea cakes and sandwiches. The young cherubs work no doubt. His cooking was a fine treat, and a great incentive to at least open the door.

“Hello again.” He knocks twice. “I just wanted to check in on you. I know I am the last person you wish to see but I was hoping to talk?” Silence greets him. Were you awake? He breathes deeply and focuses on picking up your vitals. You were up, your heart thumping steady somewhere in the room. That was good. “I also have dinner for you. Simone had an urgent matter to attend to so he- for better or worse- entrusted this to me.”

Diavolo searches hopelessly for something else to say. He couldn’t just leave the food and go. He needed to see you. “I don’t plan on staying long today. I understand when I am not wanted, but I cannot help myself but be worried for you. Perhaps this is just me contritioning, because I know I caused this. The amount of times I have been called a ‘ass’ by Solomon over this have been staggering.” He rambles. After another bout of silence from your end he coincides. “I see- I will leave the food by the door and let you rest.” Defeated he puts the food down and turns to leave.

The door clicks open slowly. One bloodshot eye peeking through the crack. “Oh mio piccolo mortale.” He loses his grip on your shared tongue at a loss. You looked- you must have been in the hall longer then he or the brothers had known. Such damage couldn’t be done in a few moments. Your skin was healing as nicely as Lucifer had said, but the deep purple scarring still remained on the surface. The burn pattern of it all was random. Twisting wounds that reflected an oily sheen from the light of the hallway. “I-.”

“I know-” You cut him off with a raised hand. “and I feel as though I owe you an apology too.” Your voice was so weak and shaky. A mockery of your normally strong and jovial tone. Hearing you laugh at school had brightened the dreary halls. He hadn’t realized it until you weren't there.

“You owe me nothing.” Diavolo says in earnest. He watches you contemplate your next words before throwing whatever you were going to say away.

“Would you like to come in?” Your eyes drop to the tray. “Luke always makes more than I can eat.”

“I don’t think that would be wise.” He backs out. All his plans crashing and burning around his feet. His actions had been irreparable.

“Perhaps not,” You open the door wider taking the tray and heading to your side table, leaving him no room to argue. “But then again, being a lamb among such wolves as yourself and the brothers isn’t smart either.” You meant it as a joke but he couldn’t even muster a chuckle. It was true. Gods. “Dia-” You approach him again but falter at the last second.

As much as you wanted to be close to him again the memories were still so fresh in your mind. The cold hell fire of his magic ensnaring you, searing your skin. The whispered words of sinners long since past still echoing in your head, all in languages you’ve never heard before. The worst though had to be the screaming. Lost souls begging for help. Some sounded so familiar…You shutter involuntarily.

You wanted to hate him for this. Curse him for putting you through this pain. But how much could you blame him? Or any of them? They were daemons. Whether he meant to hurt you or not, it truly had only been a matter of time before it happened. It would be hypocritical of you to fear or hate him forever over this. Six of the seven brothers have threatened your life before, and you have forgiven them. Hell, one of them actually killed you. What’s more was that Diavolo’s wrath hadn’t even been directed at you.

Wrong place at the right time; seemed to be your forte. “Please, come in.” You repeat again firmer than before mustering up either courage or sheer human stupidity to order him in. You couldn’t tell the difference anymore. “We need to talk.”

He enters, following at your heel like a lost puppy. All air of princedom gone as you clicked the door shut. Diavolo fiddles with his hands, old habits from childhood coming with his nerves. He didn’t know what to expect anymore. Yelling? Some kind of beratement? A plea to go home and never look back? He would let you.

You pass by him, giving him a large berth of space to get to your seat. “Tea?”

Diavolo jerks his head to you. He had forgotten momentarily the plate of food he had used to get access to you. You smile sheepishly pushing it and a plate of sweets towards him with your unbandaged knuckles. He doesn’t move till your hand retracts back to your lap. You jerk your head to the open seat waiting for him. You weren’t going to take no for an answer.

“I- thank you.” The daemon sits making himself as small as possible in the straight back chair. He takes the porcelain and drinks mindlessly. The scalding hot tea doing little to help the tightness of his throat, but it did thaw some of the ice in his mind.

“Are-how…” He fumbles so unsure of what to do next. “I see you’ve been keeping up with your school work.” Diavolo closes his eyes, wincing internally at his words. That’s what he comes up with? Idiotic.

You smile anyway, eyeing the massive pile of books and paperwork spewn about your bed. “Yeah. I’ve taken to doing my school work with Levi in his room. Mammon and Beel are nice enough to drop it off to the teachers when they are due.” He nods. He knew this of course. But it was nice to hear it from you. But yet, you don’t meet his eyes. Far too afraid to see what hid behind them.

The thought of being dragged back into those dark depths again makes your pulse quicken. You instead stare at your nail beds, finding them more interesting. They were purple now. The nails stained black by the contact with his magic. “Will- will that go away?” He asks. Demonic curses or taints were nigh impossible to remove fully. Disgustingly, he hoped they didn’t. Then your nails would match his. The darker depths of his soul coo at the idea, happy that in a small way every daemon would know your his. Not as good as a pact, but as close as he could get to being a part of your little mortal life.

“I’m not sure.” You reply honestly bringing your hands up to place them on the table. “Simone and Solomon have done what they could. But, it is as good as it’s going to get for now. They say it could fade with time.” You look up at him, eyes gazing to the left of his face. “Luke thinks I should see a stronger angel.” Diavolo winces, the thought stung, and terrified him. “I told him no.”

That surprised him. This was your chance. The celestial realm had been skeptical from the beginning. If they knew, it would be a perfect caveat for them to step in. “Why?” Finally you look at him. The fear was still there. Hesitation evident in your eyes. Yet you forced yourself to look at him, fighting through your trepidation.

“Did you mean what you said earlier? About your father and what you think of me?”

“Of course.” He replies without hesitation reaching for your cold hands. You flinch but don’t move away. It felt-nice. His warmth chasing away the perpetual chill that covered your fingertips. Idly you stroke his strong hands with your thumbs.

“Then, I think we can work on this privately.” Slowly but surely you felt like you could fix this. Not for the program, but for yourself.

#obey me #obey me diavolo #obey me headcanons #gods have mercy I wanna smooch him so bad

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athena-is-a-chaotic-lil-shit · 4 years

Text

Feral Fatality

(Part 1)

So this has been in my works for a week now. You see, it was a typical day for me scrolling through Tumblr and visiting some....tags, and then a short drabble inspired me to write about a feral reader totally not because I was craving violence and murder no, which reached more than 4k words on the first draft so here we are! Shitty title, I know. The proofread work went over 7k, and it's not even finished yet. Once I'm done posting this and my main orc fic, I will get into the requests so please be patient!

Pairing: Jason Voorhees x Fem!Reader

Word count: 3k

Warnings: Brief blood and violence at the end of the first part

Contains: Swearing, mentions of neglect and abuse (not graphic)

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3

Screams slit through the twilight as the frigid autumn wind blew harshly through the trees of Camp Crystal Lake. The rustling of bushes and cracking of twigs echoed as foolish teenagers attempted to escape, running for their lives when they were the ones who dared step foot in the place, tarnishing it with their sins.

Jason Voorhees, the innocent kid who died several years ago; pushed to the lake by his bullies and left to drown for being different and unsightly— all because the counselors were busy with their fucking business—, returned as an undead killing machine right after his mother murdered them and died. His sole purpose: to protect the land and purge the people who had no right to be here, sentencing them to a horrendous death.

One by one, they struck the ground, lifeless, either chopped into pieces, beheaded, or stabbed countless times by his trusty machete.

Limbs...ripped off with his bare hands.

The muffled snapping of branches reached your ears as the vehicle's wheels ran over them, stirring you from your nap. You rubbed your chilled skin under your clothes as you looked out of the window, thumping your forehead on the glass when you leaned forward the moment you saw the scenery. Trees, both ancient and young, their leaves varying in hues of green, orange and red, filled your line of sight. It was still early in autumn, your favorite time of the year, not hot but not too cold either. You watched in awe as the warm-colored leaves cascaded down from the branches and down to the ground, some carried by the wind farther from their origin.

The view did its best to distract you from a couple in session a seat before yours. They always seem to do that all the time, regardless of place or occasion.

This was a week-long getaway after graduation, they said.

Nothing but a white lie.

An excuse for the girls to hook up with their campus crushes, a week of fucking and smoking drugs.

You, however, just got invited —forced— by your "friend" Eloiza, the self-proclaimed hottest girl in the entire school, typical captain of the cheerleading squad; blonde and curvy. Her words were much too sugar-coated that even a deaf person could tell she had ulterior motives.

She only planned to use you as a tool to raise her fame. A stepping stone for her own gain.

That wasn't the only reason though.

Everyone knew who you were, but only by your name. News and rumors alike spread like wildfire through gossipy mouths. Your deeds were known throughout campus.

(Y/N)(L/N), top academic competitor and multiple-award winner, a straight-A student for five years in succession. Some believed you were a genius, the rest called you insane.

You wouldn't call yourself a genius though, you did not possess the obsessive need to acquire eternal knowledge and discover the secrets of the universe as most of them do, to effortlessly solve every problem that comes their way.

If that were the case, then you wouldn't be here in the first place.

You only love learning and indulging in the beauty of Mother Nature, plus a handful of hyper-fixations.

Fine, a buttload of hyper-fixations. And such came in handy in various situations.

You were unrivaled, not one of your peers could come close to your level of wit. Many people wished to have a brain like yours, and just as many hated you for even having one, praised you just as much as slandered your name and judged you.

Despite your reputation, the poor school didn't broadcast it, at least every time. The staff probably got tired of repeating the same phrase over and over again. Which caused more than half of the whole campus to never believe you to be the one behind all of that, laughing at your face when you said your name.

"You? The (Y/N) (L/N)? Ha! As if I'd fall for that! Everyone knows how she looks. You're the absolute opposite!"

"You got to be kidding me."

"You're a joker, aren't you? Is this a prank? If so please stop it, don't pretend like you're her."

Yep, and it goes on and on and on. They were right, you didn't look like someone who would win contests or excel in class.

You constantly wore clothes that hid your form, silent unless spoken to or asked to answer, distant and reserved, you preferred the company of books and nature to the rowdiness and prying hands of humans. A sociopath they deemed you. Quite an extreme word to use when you simply wanted to enjoy the only things that made you happy in this living hell.

You only know a handful of people who approached you first-hand and praised you genuinely, even asking for an autograph, which really surprised you.

Yet, they would never understand you even if you explained, because you can't, words evade you when it comes down to voice out what you feel. Even if you can, no one would care. And even if they did? You doubt it was real. Everyone wants to use you, and they seem to believe you'd let them. You didn't trust anyone. The last time you did only left you sobbing on the dirt.

You wanted to be left alone.

To connect with nature and get as far away as possible from your parents. Parents who kept shouting profanities at each other, the main cause for your depression and anxiety levels to skyrocket, the shaking turning into trembling, 7 hours of sleep to barely a blink.

That's why you agreed to go in the first place.

You hated your household—despised it— a mess of broken shards of bottles and ceramics littered your kitchen floor more often than not. You didn't bother cleaning it up anymore, your mother would just waste away her money on more things to break and throw them at your joke of a father when they fought anyway.

Not only that, you thought...No, you believed if you worked hard to be the best and win countless competitions, your parents would give you recognition and reconcile for your sake, but no, no, no. They didn't care one bit about you or your medals, it was as if you were never even included in their lives at all. Even birthday celebrations ceased to exist in everyone's books after your 13th.

So you gave up.

Down into the void, your wishful thinking went, that they'll become better people over time, that the attention and love you deserve will be given one day. Instead, you wallowed yourself in your studies, besting everyone in everything academic. Oh, but you weren't athletic. Far from it. Damn, you were getting thin and sleep-deprived from being neglected, dark circles under your eyes every time you looked at your reflection. People hating your existence wasn't helping, some teachers even suspected you of cheating.

There's no way in hell you'd let yourself get dragged down to end up like them! You were of legal age now, a fresh graduate from high school, you doubt your parents even knew that since they didn't fucking show up on your graduation day. You were moving out of that shithole of a town. Anywhere is better than where they breathed and spat their poison.

And so here you are. Standing in this breath-taking and mysterious place. Camp Crystal Lake, it is named, secluded, barely touched by modernization as it is hidden between mountains and trees as far as the eye could see. Not to mention its namesake, the lake, you imagined it would mirror the sky, be it day or night. You loved it, you adored the fresh, breathable air that went through you the moment you stepped out of the van.

You also knew about him.

Resolved to never go back to that goddamned house, you took everything you had and needed; the special little trinkets you've collected through the years shoved into a box, the few clothes you had, art materials, and your precious books carefully packed inside a big travel bag, along with your stocked up canned goods, convenience food, snacks, and toiletries.

And other, important things.

You hauled your baggage out of the van and got off, immediately moving to the side and away from everyone.

You got used to people ignoring you that you didn't care anymore.

Why waste your time with them when you can have all of it to yourself?

Eloiza led the group into the larger cabins, the others went straight into the lake for a swim. You even notice some teens disappear into the trees, most likely for a quickie.

In return, you stayed out of their way, fully satisfied being invisible and with your own company as you trudged to a cabin, the one you caught a glimpse of earlier in the van. It was a long way's separated from the rest, closest to the forest and hidden behind a few trees.

You were panting when you finally stopped in front of it, clearly not used to walking long distances and carrying stuff near as heavy as your weight.

Upon closer inspection, you found yourself gaping at its appearance. The wooden walls lost their color as they aged, white and brown mushrooms grew on the ground along with green moss sticking to the beams, and a few vines crawling their way up and on the roof. Despite all of that, the cabin looked sturdy still.

There's this "one with nature" vibe that drew you to it, like a string pulling you closer and inviting you. Ominous most would say, but you almost cried when the rich scent of earth and oxygen filled your lungs as you took one big inhale, sighing in content for once. It was a lot smaller compared to the others, but you didn't care. As long as you were left alone with your stuff you were a-okay.

Perfect.

You turned the knob and peeked inside, letting out a small gasp and opening the door wider to see the whole thing.

Old as it is, it was proper and neat, regardless of the tiny cobwebs on the upper corners. A small, square dining table sat in the middle of the first part of the place, two wooden stools placed underneath. There were cupboards on the wall and a simple sink with an empty space to the side. You went to the next room, doorless and separated with but a wall of thick plywood. It had a single bed in the corner, off-white cotton sheets sitting atop, not a wrinkle in sight. No pillow though. There's a decent-sized closet along with a small table on one side of the bed. One of the windows had a hole in the middle, a ray of sunlight streaming in through the cracks. It was too big for the size of a gunshot, so maybe a rock.

A bit hesitant, your fingers traced the wood, feeling the inconsistent texture. When you went through the back door, your smile reached your ears when trunks of trees and bushes greeted you...

Wait, is that what you think it is?

Stepping closer to the treeline, your jaw dropped when you spotted a thicket of fruit-bearing plants past them, gathered in a tiny clearing.

Blueberries.

Purple little cuties poked out of the green shrubs, sporting a vibrant hue that caught your eye. The sun shone overhead and providing the energy they needed. Blueberries managed to grow in the area despite the trees fencing them.

Tempted and suspicious, you crouched down, inspecting the shrub if it really was a blueberry plant and not a deadly doppelganger. Once you were sure it was, (it would be hilarious if you simply died from nighshade poisoning), you plucked one and brought it to your mouth. It was sweeter than you expected, with a slightly bitter aftertaste. You hummed in delight, wiping the juice with your thumb when it dribbled out, staining your finger and lips.

You didn't want to anger anybody. Hell, coming here was already trespassing, so you didn't push your luck and left it alone, hoping they'd forgive you for picking one. They surely didn't look wild with the way they lined up.

You scanned the rest of the area, eventually going back inside to unpack after your little evaluation.

The sun was a hand's away from setting when you finished. Pride swelled in your chest at the work you did, your things stocked and organized with care inside the cabinets and drawers. You won't have to worry about your food for now as cupboards were filled to the brim with them. You also had a decent amount of money left from your savings account that your parents weren't aware of. Prize money, allowance, and the salary you got from doing online jobs all went into it. The camp was a few miles off the road, and a couple more to the nearest gas station with a convenience store. Very far yes, but it's better than living with the people who made you do this in the first place.

You just hoped you wouldn't die walking.

Everything was worth it, anyways. You were free now, at least that's what you think.

You trudged to the bed, eyeing the cushions, wary and a little scared to touch the sheets that appeared to be cleaned just recently, you didn't even lay a finger on them ever since you got inside. Oh, but your tired muscles were screaming to just flump down and relax.

So you did.

You dumped yourself face first and inhaled. It wasn't smelly nor fragrant, just the simple freshness on the cotton fabric. You felt beat but ain't sleepy, yet, so you reached to the drawer beside the bed and pulled out a book to pass the time as you waited for the sun to go down and give way for the moon. Its spine and pages had creases, worn out and yellow-stained from age and use. It was a horror-mystery novel told through a first-person narrative, a story of a middle-aged detective and her Maine coon in their attempts to solve a murder case of a young European lady named Cassandra Chase.

You dozed off in the middle of chapter 21, the part where Dinnie, the cat, discovers a valuable clue to the crime, a rotten limb in the dried basement well.

—

Jason settled down on the stairs of his porch; shoulders relaxed and hunched as he leisurely sharpened his machete with a small whetstone. Lines of sunlight kissed him through the leaves of trees, the birds in the area chirped on their perches, and the grass swayed, gentle, as a cool wind passed by.

His day be so fine. No troublemakers to deal wi—

The alarm rang, announcing unwelcomed arrival. As if a switch flipped inside, he's already on his feet, making his way swiftly to their location.

A new batch of wretched youngsters, another day ruined. Hunting them down makes his blood thrum in his veins, yes, but they soured his mood, just when he was at peace. He's dead set on slaughtering them in the most gruesome ways possible, only then he could go back and enjoy the serenity the nature around him brings.

He surveyed the area, camouflaging with the wilderness, silent as he watched and counted the soon-to-be corpses, his mother's voice at the back of his mind, guiding him.

They decided to go either to the main cabins, or the lake...even into the trees.

All but one.

Jason already planned to cut down the couple later as they lose themselves in the forest, doing nasty, dirty things to his camp. The killer shifted his attention to you, curious as to why you didn't join the lot. Instead, you walked back down the road. He followed and saw you approach the small cabin, separated from the rest, your eyes widened...

Adoration?

You were quiet— except for the little gasps of awe you let out in between pants—as you looked around and over the place. The ones you came with were rowdy and destructive, a complete opposite. He hid as he observed you from afar, moving around to adjust his vision on you. You smiled every time you looked to the trees, he noticed.

Why were you smiling like that? Why did you pick this cabin? Were you planning on defiling it?

The last question in his mind made his blood boil. He'll kill you first if that was the case. That cabin you chose was special, it was where he and his mother used to stay. He occasionally visits that one to keep it clean and free of dust. If you even think of—

Jason, sweetie...look closer. She does not have such intentions.

His mother's words rang in his head. Even from where he stood, he could see what you did inside. You looked a little hesitant, touching and drawing back your hand before letting your fingers feel the wood as if it was something delicate. Despite the initial...shyness? You proceeded to make it your home, somewhat, dropping the large duffel bags you carried on your front and back, and a similarly large roller case on your left. It was as if you planned to stay for a long time.

Jason hears you take a long breath and sigh as you went out the backdoor. You grinned wider when you saw the nature around you. You stepped forward, straight in his direction...

For a moment he thought you saw him, seeing your jaw drop. You moved closer, and he just froze there, until you crouched down.

Oh, his plants.

He watched you as you gently picked a fruit, your gaze...soft. You brought it to your mouth, some of the juice spilling on the side and you wiped it with your thumb.

Cute.

You went back inside and continued to unpack your things, carefully maneuvering around the cabin.

Maybe he'll spare you if you continue to be good. You didn't do anything dirty, yet. It's only a matter of time before the camp is shrouded in darkness and his hunt will begin.

Let's see what you'll do before that happens.

Jason tracked down the three that went into the forest. He knew the place like the back of his hand, and it was easier to pinpoint them as he heard moans.

What he saw was utmost disgusting, two girls pleasuring a male with their mouths in broad daylight.

Kill them, my boy! Such foul beings need to die! Kill them, kill!

He circled them, steps soundless. Jason gripped his machete and brought it down the guy's neck, embedding the weapon into the bark, the head rolled down, oozing with blood, and fell against the women, drenching them in red. Not a single cry left from their mouths as he sliced both with one swing, blood pouring out of their throats and staining the ground. Jason dragged their bodies and tossed them into a pit he dug beforehand, making quick work in burying them.

A swift end. Now he waits.

#jason voorhees x reader #jason x reader #friday the 13th #blood #violence #slatra #lmao #my writing #fiction #horror #slasher x reader #feral reader #slasher x fem!reader #reader insert #slasher fic #slasher x reader fic #jason voorhees #friday the 13th fic

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liperzine · 3 years

Text

Production Update:

Hi everyone!

This project obviously underwent some major schedule changes over the last few months for general life-and-pandemic-related reasons, so here is a VERY long update on the zine’s production (which I STILL intend to finish, believe it or not):

Progress

We are now at 20% completion. So far that includes:

Art: 1 comic, 2 sketches, 3 illustrations

Writing: 3 drafts, 1 outline, 1 drabble

General: Sequence, zine intro, page count

Progress has been a bit slow bc of life stuff, but I’m taking time to finish and edit the longer fics now, since they’ll make up the brunt of the zine. 2/3 drafts are close to completion. Plus, there’s some good news (see Collaborations)!

Change of Content

Because of my heavy schedule, I did have to omit some content for the sake of time. Here is the updated list of content for the paid version:

5+ fully illustrated artworks

3-5 oneshots

short comics

drabbles

sketch pages

+ fic notes and unfinished scenes from select fics

There will no longer be an NSFW version - the paid version is now SFW, and will include more SFW content in addition to what’s already in the sampler. I feel like this change is self explanatory, as I first started planning this project as a teen. There will be aged-up art of the characters, but it will be SFW.

Content list for the free Sampler - TBA

Collaborations

We now have not one, but TWO guest collaborators for the zine! You can read more about them here.

This project has been a huge undertaking, so if we’re friends and you’d like to be a guest contributor, please shoot me a dm!

Additional updates

The proposed 2nd edition of this zine has now been cancelled, as I don’t have the time to organize it. If you’d like to be a part of the current edition, please shoot me a dm.

The Jeyna Zine is still a go, and will similarly have limited contributors.

This will probably be one of my last contributions to this fandom, as I’d like to turn the page on this chapter of my life. Stay tuned for the next update, and thanks for your support!

#updates #text #liper #honestly we're probably at 30% at this point but i can't do math #in a week we'll be at 40%

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edie-k · 3 years

Text

Legally Ginger Chapter 4 (Romione, PG-13)

Title: Legal Ginger, Chapter 4 "Not Completely Unfortunate Looking"

Pairing: Romione, minor Ron/Astoria, Harry/Astoria

Rating: PG-13

Summary: Ron makes his first East Coast friend

Thanks adnei for all the beta help!

Bolded dialogue plus the chapter title are verbatim or very very heavily ripped from the movie.

Thank you for all your comments last chapter! I think the fun of these RomCom inspired fics is to surprise you with what character ends up where.

And to be clear, I love Harry - not as much as Ron but I am one of these weirdos that somehow thinks the main character is underrated in his own series. But the very few times Harry was mad at Ron, he knew how to cut and I'm going to have some fun with that. I doubt you'll hate Harry when this story is complete. But you might at the end of next chapter.

Click below or follow the link to AO3!

Ron stormed back to his room, struggling with the lock as his hands shook. After finally getting the door open, he quickly grabbed for Pig’s leash. The pug has out of his bed and at Ron’s feet in a flash.

Ron, who didn’t have patience for Pig’s short legs today, scooped him up and stomped down the hall and out to the parking lot. He jerked open the door to his Escape and deposited Pig in the passenger’s seat before taking a deep breath.

Pig tilted his head quizzically.

“We need to hit something.”

**********************************

After driving about 10 miles, Ron spotted it. A large building that had seen better days with steel cages and a dilapidated miniature golf course outside. The weathered sign outside it said “Hogs Head Sports Center and Pub”.

He cut through two lanes of traffic to turn into the mostly empty parking lot. After putting the car in park, he took a second to dig for quarters in his center console but came up empty. “Shit,” he sighed.

Ron grabbed Pig’s leash and the dog hopped down to follow him towards the building.

Upon entering, Ron found the inside to be about as unkempt as the outside but it was surprisingly clean. Another pleasant surprise was that there was a bar to the right with a few grizzled townies eating nachos and being served drafts by a grumpy looking bearded bartender while they watched Sportscenter on a small flat screen. In the back was a sole batting cage, a few arcade machines and a beat up door with a paper taped to it that said “Simulator in Use”. To the left, a small counter with golf clubs, colored golf balls, and tiny pencils.

Behind the counter was the biggest man Ron had ever seen in real life and he’d been lucky enough to meet three Lakers, two Warriors, and a Ram. Similar to the bartender, he had unkempt hair and a wild beard but unlike the old guy slinging drinks, he was middle aged and his face split in a big smile upon seeing Ron.

“Hello,” the giant of a man greeted him. “What’s doing?”

“I need some quarters for the cages,” Ron said, holding out a $5.

“Sure,” the man agreed and opened the cash register.

“Thanks,” Ron muttered and started to walk out the door before stopping short. “Shit.”

“Something wrong?”

“I don’t have my bat,” Ron said, shaking his head.

“Came to the cages without a bat?” the guy said, his accent so thick that Ron had to pause to process before answering.

“Uh yeah. I sort of just needed to find something to hit that wasn’t…” Ron trailed off.

“The other guy?” The giant man finished his sentence with a chuckle.

Ron laughed. “Pretty much.”

The man walked into the back room and came out with two worn bats. “I’ve been there,” he said, handing Ron one.

“Thanks.”

“You look like you could use some company,” the man said.

Ron considered for a moment. He’d been lonely as hell this week. Growing up with six siblings, living in a fraternity house… he wasn’t used to all this time to himself. And this guy was only the second genuine conversation he’d had since arriving in Boston.

“Sure,” he replied. “My name’s Ron.”

The man outstretched a giant hand. “Everyone calls me Hagrid.”

***********************

“We hooked up the night before graduation and she’s already engaged to this d-bag?”

“I don’t get it,” Hagrid said. “What’s so great about this guy?”

Ron had spent the last half hour spilling his life story while hitting balls off the fastest pitching machine in the cages. Hagrid had proved himself to be a captive and empathetic audience - almost like talking with one of his older brothers.

Ron shrugged. “He’s obviously smart.”

“Why? Cause he got into Harvard? So did you. Better looking than you?”

“I mean, he’s a little scrawny. If I’d actually been dumb enough to hit him, I’d have won before he even knew we were fighting but he’s decent looking enough. I’ve got a sister and he’s her type.”

“He seems like a total asshole so no way he’s got you beat on personality,” Hagrid said.

Ron laughed. “You’ve known me for forty minutes!”

Now Hagrid shrugged. “Lived here my whole life. Not to paint with too broad a brush but there aren’t a lot of Harvard kids kicking back with the counter guy at a rec center. You check out.”

“That’s probably true from what I’ve seen,” Ron agreed. “But I’m not really a Harvard kid. I just...I actually don’t know what I expected.”

“You expected to spend the rest of your lives together! I don’t get why it’s so hard. Isn’t that what all the TV shows tell us women want? My girl, Olympe, she dumped me a few months back. She took everything. Our home, the Dunkie’s rewards, my baby Fangs…”

“Fangs?”

“Best mutt there is,” Hagrid said. “Although this guy’s pretty great.” Hagrid leaned down to scratch the Pig’s ears.

“I'm sorry, that sucks,” Ron replied, shaking his head.

“It happens all the time,” Hagrid shrugged. “You ready for a beer?”

“Always,” agreed Ron and they walked back toward the main building.

Upon entering the building, Ron set his bat on the counter. “What’s the old man got on tap?”

When Hagrid didn’t immediately reply, Ron turned to look at him. He was standing frozen, staring across the room where an attractive middle aged brunette woman in a polo shirt and jeans was pushing an empty dolley out from behind the bar and towards them.

“Hi, Hagrid,” she said with a smile. Ron turned to grab the door and hold it open for her.

“Uh, yeah, uh hi,” stammered Hagrid. He tried to slide his bat on the counter but only succeeded in knocking the one Ron used to the floor with a loud clatter.

She waved as she left the building.

“Could I be any more goddamn spastic?” Hagrid bemoaned. Ron gave a sympathetic wince. “Now I really need that drink.”

Ron followed him over to the bar and slid onto the stool next to him.

“Abe? Can we get a couple?”

The bearded old man behind the bar grunted and poured them two drafts.

Hagrid took a sip and shook his head. “This women stuff is hard. Never thought I’d be in this position at my age. But you’re still young. Doesn’t have to be this difficult for you. Smart guy, good guy, athletic guy like you. You’d find another girl in no time.”

“I mean, maybe, but Astoria…. she’s worth fighting for, you know?”

“Well, engaged ain’t married,” said Hagrid. “Never, ever, ever give up.”

Ron burst out laughing. “That’s Michael Scott advice!”

“Eh, it worked out for Jim and Pam,” insisted Hagrid.

“Well, I’m not giving up yet, so don’t worry.”

*************************************************************************************

Ron entered his first class Tuesday morning, feeling much more confident. After leaving Hogs Head with a stomach full of greasy nachos, Hagrid’s number, and an offer to text anytime, he'd returned to campus and poured over all the syllabi and orientation packets again. He felt confident that he’d done the pre-work needed to enter his Criminal Law class.

He plunked down in his seat and looked around. In front of him sat Astoria and what’s his face. Harry had his arm draped behind the back of her chair.

Engaged ain’t married. Engaged ain’t married. He repeated to himself.

In addition to his studying last night, he had tried to scour social media to see if there was a wedding date set, but the news seemed totally non-existent. On a whim, he had texted Lavender. Lavender had said she was working for LiveNation post graduation but Ron wondered if she’d actually joined the FBI - thirty minutes later, she had emailed him a whole mess of screenshots from various social media accounts, college newsletters, and local newspapers. He thought he might even have Harry’s social security number in the file. The only thing he cared about was that she had confirmed there was no date set and that they intended on a long engagement.

“Hem, hem.”

The noise came from a small woman standing at the front of the hall. She had a flat face and her style of dress was atrocious - fluffy pink cardigan over a shapeless tan shift dress. He vowed to get a discrete picture of her to throw in the group chat.

“Welcome to Criminal Law. I am Professor Dolores Umbridge. I have high expectations of how you will perform and how you will conduct yourself in my class. I expect you to push yourselves to excel and outperform your classmates and yourselves. And bear in mind, performing well this year will have you well placed for one of four highly regarded internships at my firm next year where you will be applying your skills to real world cases.”

“Now, let’s commence with our usual torture,” she said. She studied a class roster.

Please not me. But I can do it. But also, please not me.

“Mr. Weasley.”

Goddamn it.

“Would you prefer your client have committed a crime malum in se or malum prohibitum?” Professor Umbridge asked.

“Well,” he said carefully. “I prefer they not have committed the crime at all.”

The rest of the class snickered.

“That is the dream, Mr. Weasley,” she said with a wry smile. She looked down at the roster again. “What about you, Mr. Potter?”

“Malum prohibitum,” he said confidently. “I’d rather they commit a regulatory infraction as opposed to a dangerous crime.”

“Well said, Mr. Potter,” Professor Umbridge replied. “Let’s take a closer look at malum prohibitum, shall we?”

Harry shot a glance back at Ron over his shoulder and gave him a shit eating grin before running his fingers up and down Stori’s arm.

We’re in the middle of fucking class and he’s mauling her like they’re at a kegger.

Before he could think better of it, Ron raised his hand.

“Oh,” said Professor Umbridge. “You had a question Mr. Weasley?”

“No,” said Ron. “I just changed my mind. I’ll take the dangerous criminal. Unlike Potter, a challenge has never scared me.”

Harry whipped his head around to glare at Ron.

“Exactly the spirit I like to see, Mr. Weasley,” Umbridge said approvingly.

*************************

“Come on boy,” said Ron, urging Pig along down the stairs of the dorms.

The semester was now three weeks old. Ron was dutifully completing his reading each night and when McGonagall had come back at him again with a question, he had managed to piece together an answer that satisfied her.

Campus life, however, had continued to be fairly lonely for him. His debacle in McGonagall’s class had spread like wildfire and he’d been shunned from every study group he approached. He’d taken to reviewing in the bar at the Hogs Head for the company. He wasn’t sure if Hagrid liked him or Pig better but at least there was one place in town they were always welcome.

“I didn’t know pets were allowed in student housing,” he heard a voice say.

Ron glanced up to see a face that looked somewhat familiar to him. After a tick, he recognized the woman speaking as the same one who had reassured him that first day of classes.

“Service animals are,” he told her.

She looked at him skeptically, brushing her voluminous hair behind her ears. “Is he a service animal?”

“He provides services,” Ron said, giving her a cocky grin.

She pursed her lips as though she was trying not to smile. “Such as?”

“Getting the attention of beautiful women,” Ron answered.

The brunette stood up and crossed her arms against her chest but there was really no hiding her obvious amusement. “Wow.” She shook her head and started to walk away.

“Come on, that was a good line, right?” Ron called after her.

She stopped and looked back at him. “I just didn’t think that was an area that you needed assistance in,” she said slyly, before walking away.

Shit, what a response.

He grinned, watching her go. He was about to call and ask her name - after all, she was the friendliest person on the campus - when he caught a glimpse of Astoria out of the corner of his eye. She was standing about twenty feet away with fucking Harry’s arm draped around her shoulders, talking to a couple of other students. For fuck’s sake, is she full of helium now? He’s constantly got an arm around her to weigh her down. But she was watching Ron through narrowed eyes.

Ron gave a small wave and Stori blushed, clearly embarrassed that she was caught. At that moment, Harry seemed to notice his fiancée was distracted and glanced in Ron’s direction. He threw Ron one of his patented spoiled rich dick smirks. Ron smirked right back and winked.

I’m not as out of the picture as you think. We’ll see who wins this one.

********************

Ron was just stepping out of the bathroom when he spotted his phone lighting up.

Fred

FaceTime as soon as you can!

He sighed, threw on a shirt, and dialed his brother.

Fred’s face appeared before him. Sort of. Wherever he was was dark, loud and full of strobe lights.

“What’s going on?” Ron asked.

“We’re celebrating!” shouted Fred. The camera turned and Ron suddenly saw a whole slew of his friends.

Parvati came into view. “Seamus proposed and Lav said yes!”

Over her right shoulder, Ron spotted the aforementioned couple kissing. Over Parvati’s left shoulder though, he saw…

“Are you at a strip club?” Ron asked.

“Of course!” yelled George. “It’s 6pm on a Monday. Half price drinks and free buffet at Diamond’s!”

“I just bought a ring, I gotta pay for a wedding, and student loans are coming due,” Seamus said, now closer to the camera. Lavender’s face wasn’t in view but he assumed the hand with the ring on screen belonged to her.

“Congrats buddy,” Ron said, feeling a sting.

“June 9th. I need you as one of my groomsmen, right? Lavender’s first cousin is like six two. If she wears heels, only you can match up to her.”

“I wouldn’t miss it,” Ron assured him.

“Ron! Did that stuff help? Has she dumped that douche yet?” Lavender screamed, not aware of just how close she was to the mic.

“Uh, I’m making progress,” Ron said.

“Almost October bro,” George said. “If anyone can make it work, you can.”

“Or just come home!” he heard his sister shout from far away.

“I’ll see you all soon,” Ron said. “Have fun.”

“I’ll slip Destiny a $5 and tell her it’s from you in case you change your mind,” Ginny called. Then the screen went black.

God, he missed his friends, his family. He missed having a bunch of guys at the frat to hang out with at the drop of a hat. He missed having a dozen teammates, available for a run at the drop of a hat. He missed Tim, the coffee cart guy who always knew his correct coffee/milk/syrup ratio.

He didn’t think Harvard would be easy. He didn’t think that it would be easy to get Astoria back. But he assumed making friends would be easy. He didn’t even remember how he made friends at CULA - did he even have to try? He sighed and picked up Pig’s leash, ready to take him for one last walk.

“It’s a Cambridge tradition - pass it along to everyone,” he heard someone say down the hall. “8 o’clock tomorrow at Gord’s Pub”

“What tradition?” Ron asked, coming around the corner. “Oh.”

There he was, face to face, with Harry Potter.

“Uh, sorry,” said Ron. “I heard the word pub.”

Harry looked at him and then gave a slight smile. “Yeah, man. There’s a trivia night at Gord’s Pub tomorrow night. It’s sort of a law school tradition to hit it up.”

“Trivia night, huh?” Ron asked.

“Yeah, the guy who does it prides himself on coming up with the most difficult questions he can. It’s impossible to win. Everyone completely bombs on every question so everyone just gets drunk by the second half. I hear it’s a pretty good night,” Harry said.

“Cool,” said Ron awkwardly.

“You should stop by. I’m sure there’ll be a team you can jump onto,” Harry suggested.

“Yeah, yeah, maybe I will,” Ron said.

“Cool dog,” Harry said, pointing at Pig.

“Uh, thanks. Have a good night,” Ron said, walking away.

Am I so desperate for friends that I’m hanging out with this douche? I guess so.

#romione fanfic #au romione #ron x hermione #ron and hermione #hp fanfic #rom com

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lilolilyr · 3 years

Note

1, 2, 6, 18, 19, 22 and any two questions of your choice that you're itching to answer for the AO3 ask thingy please 😁

Ohh wow thank you! :D took a while to answer all these, full 3 episodes of my A little princess binge watch xD (I did get distracted by the series a few times even tho the plot was nothing new to me...) anyhow, under readmore because Long!

1. Top 3 fandoms written for

Good Omens (113, but mostly shorts), The Old Guard (72, rly wanna push that to 100 before I get over the fandom :D) and Star Trek (36 - & 6 more and ST Discovery with currently 17 will be in the top5 aka the collapsed ao3 fandom list, too! And it'll finally kick out HP xD)! Star Trek's not all new fics, there are some old Spirk slash fics and then the new Milippa, but GOmens and TOG are definitely on top bc they're my most recent fandoms and I started writing more and more in the last years :)

2. Fandom you have most WIPs for

uhhh if we're talking actually recently started and not (yet xD) abandoned WIPs in ao3 drafts or Word, I have about 10 TOG fics, same for Star Trek... if we're talking dead works on ao3 + ideas in old draft documents or lists, I bet it's older fandoms tho, probably a lot of my multiverse crossover chaos that's based on headcanon-improved characters based on Lord of the Rings and Twilight characters, Harry Potter magic (which I'm trying to her rid of bc, jkr, but also bc in general I like the Age of the Five magic theory more), Marvel, Town called EUReKA and a bunch of other stuff plus many ocs... No idea which fandom is most prominently in there, honest 😂 actually the blog I posted the ask meme to (bc ask memes are sth that might get fame so I'd rather have it on a blog where I already don't check the notes now lol), @thelucyverse, has more of that chaos, but yeah it's just that - Chaos!

6. Without checking - which tags do you think you've used most?

I actually know that bc I already checked it for a tagging meme xD but jusr from vibes I think I wrote a lot of getting together, emotional hurt/comfort, and of course Andromache Regains Immortality!

18. Favorite kinds of comments?

Alllllll of them :D no seriously especially on multichapters I'm so happy about even the smallest comments because it means someone actually read the latest chapter? :D

Actual fav comments... hmmm, I love when someone Points out a line and it happens to be one of my fav lines as well - or on the other hand if it's a part I'm self-conscious about and they comment that they like it!

19. Ever had someone write something inspired by your fic?

Not counting my own fics? No xD But! I've had people take fic ideas or outlines I posted on discord or tumblr and turn those into actual fics!

22. First fandom you've written for?

Posted it's The Hobbit movies, but I think some of my HP/twilight/LotR crossover ideas are older than that? I started coming up with those ideas when I was like 11 and I only got an ao3 with 15 or so... btw random but one of my first ocs, aka one of the triplet sisters of twilight Victoria, is still a beloved oc of mine now! XD

Any 2 I'm itching to answer - well, I love all those qs given that it's my ask meme xD but I just picked two from the readers' section :) C bc I always love a good shoutout and W because I've been wanting to check that - I actually already have a while ago, but forgot again xD

W) Oldest fic in your ao3 history?

Attila - She loves you (Yeah, Yeah, Yeah)

I remember that author?? And I know W13 femslash was one of the first fandoms I started reading fic to? But I absolutely cannot recall ever reaiding that story lmao

C) Favorite writers? Feel free to @ if they're on tumblr & you want to make them smile!

Alright I had planned to make a rec list here but bc it's almost 2am and my brain is Empty and this is behind readmore anyway, I'll instead maybe make a little reclist or several fandom-specific ones tomorrow, if I remember! Anyhow, thx so much for the ask Anni!!! This was fun <3

Ao3 ask

#ask the blogger #ao3 ask #answered #banashee #non anon #not f #lilo writes behind the scenes #lverse #x #lilo rambles #may'21 #04.05.21 #05.05.21 #personal #personal 2021 #mine #thelucyverse

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angst-in-space · 4 years

Text

november ‘20 writing progress

total words written: 50.1k

most words written in a day: 3,024

least words written in a day: 268

current yearly total: 233,516

projects worked on:

- sylvix dreamscape fic - finished a draft of the sylvix christmas fic for the sylvix advent calendar event! - finished a draft of the klance hotel au! - worked on altea rising recap summary, and worked a tiny bit on chapter 19

november goals: - win nanowrimo?? lol - finish/submit final draft of my piece for long live zine (note: ok i only didn’t accomplish this bc it’s not due til mid-december, the deadline changed so lol) - finish a draft of the sylvix xmas fic - work on the sylvix dreamscape fic - finish (or at least work on) the kl hotel au?? - uhh at least finish the recap summary thing that i’m writing for altea rising? maybe if i feel extra spicy i’ll actually work on the actual fic lmfao (note: well, i didn’t FINISH the recap summary but i did want to note i worked on it a lot and only have like a chapter and a half left to summarize so YAY!) - perhaps do some more planning on my original story idk

december goals: - reach my yearly goal of writing 250k words....*sweats* - finish/submit final draft of piece for long live zine - finish editing and publish the sylvix xmas fic! - finish/publish [redacted] and [redacted] (two short secret things i’m working on, lol) - work some more on the sylvix dreamscape fic - finish the altea rising recap summary (and....maybe work a little on chapter 19 if i have time)

notes:

WELL UH.....that was certainly....a Month. there was a lot going on in the world, plus doing my part-time editing job, etc. etc. but i somehow managed to win nanowrimo?? which still doesn’t feel real to me, since i haven’t won in like....5 years. so i’m not really sure what possessed me to write so much but I DID IT and that was such a good feeling!

i finished two fics during november which i feel like is an all-time record lmao. but anyway, first of all i finished a draft of the klance hotel au that i started like...last summer, so i’m excited about that!! honestly not sure when i’m gonna publish it because i have three fics i need to publish this month already so uhhh might put that up in january, but we shall see!

i also finished a draft of the sylvix christmas fic, which i will be publishing on december 16th, so look out for that one!! it’s being beta’d right now and i will probs have to do a bit more editing but over all i’m quite excited about it and can’t wait to post it :’’) other than that, i’d say most of my efforts went into the sylvix dreamscape fic. right now i think i’m like five(??) chapters into it, and saving up chapters so i can post them one by one on a somewhat regular schedule, but that might still not be for a month or two because i have several other things i need to post in the next few weeks anyway, lol.

i also worked a ton on the altea rising recap summary which i’m almoooost done with, i just have like a chapter and a half left to summarize so *wheezes* i’m almost there... i also got a teensy bit of progress done on chapter 19 which is the first time i’ve worked on the actual fic in ages dkfdj. not rlly sure when i am going to start updating it again but....i do have a few more chapters of it done, they just need to be edited and whatnot. but idk it may still be a while (oh god it’s been like two years since i updated it huh....sobs violently).

in addition to that.... i have two other fics i plan on publishing this month, both of which are Secret. one of them is for a fandom/pairing i’ve never written before but i’ve had a lot of fun writing it and i really look forward to publishing it when the time comes! the other is for a lil secret santa exchange and i only have a vague idea of what i’m writing for it but....AAAAH i think it will be fun to write!!

so uh yeah december is gonna be a bit of a crunch for me bc i have three fics i need to publish, plus a piece i need to submit for a zine...*falls on the floor* but hey it will be cool to actually publish some things this month, so y’all can look forward to that! ;)

#brigidposts #text #writing updates #writing progress 2020

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valkerymillenia · 4 years

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Hi, I asked about jason’s memory in my last ask in cbds. Thanks for answering. It made me wonder would jason gets flashes about his time with dick and the twins?I really admire your patience in writing your story. This is why i’ll fail as a writer, because i have absolutely no patience. I mean I would probably rush my story and that would make it turn bad.

Ok, so, no. At first Jason has no memory between his death and the Pit. Eventually though some things start to trigger pieces of memories that he doesn't really understand, his full memory takes quite a while to return and by then he's dug himself into too deep a hole.

Also, you sound EXACTLY like me when I started writing.

So I'mma ramble now. Feel free to ignore the boring story time beneath the cut but I promise it has a point, it's just bound to be long because I don't know what brevity is and when I'm sleep deprived I talk to much.

Before I started writing I always wanted to put stories down into words but I never ever considered writing books, I used to make elaborate fantasy worlds, characters and lives in my head that dragged on for weeks on end, slowly becoming more and more complex, it was pure escapism, but I never thought about writing those stories down precisely because I though "I'll never have the patience to develop this, I'll just rush it or quit halfway".

Then when I was in 10th grade there was a writing contest in my school and two of my cousins were teachers there and writers themselves and encouraged me to enter (there were 3 categories actually- teachers, 7th to 9th grade and 10th to 12th grade). I figured, why not?

The story had to be handwritten under a pseudonym with a 5 page limit (no word limit because it was handwritten, you just had to use standard test paper for 5 pages, and yes, this was normal because not everyone had access to a computer to type their work), it was fiction under the theme "stories of our people" and the judges were a panel of teachers and one famous writer (he had a very popular YA adventure series and some great mythology based novels, unfortunately he passed away a few years later).

Now, bear in mind 2 things. This was a school surrounded by forest in the hills of a small rural city but it was the biggest rural city around and all the other towns and villages sent their kids to high school there, the second thing to remember is that high school is mandatory education in my country so dropping out isn't really an option. Therefore we had hundreds of kids in the high school grades (somewhere between 600 and 800 kids, I think, there's less nowadays because the next town over grew immensely and has its own high school now).

You'd think kids wouldn't be interested in a writing competition but the author that was coming to judge was very popular at the time and, well, it was a high school in the middle of the woods in a small countryside town. Things were boring, ok? We didn't have a mall or a movie theater or anything, so when something popped up to break the boredom (or someone even remotely famous showed up) everyone jumped at it.

So a lot of people participated and me? I was just dragging my feet because "I didn't have the patience", I waited until the last two days before the deadline and poured out a story last minute with a shitty penname based on my mythology obsession (Valkery Thot, you can laugh about it nowadays but Thot was the Egyptian good of scribes and I was NERD).

The story was about two kids that never liked each other growing up even though they lived close to each other, they end up crossing paths on the same adventure to a local inaccessible waterfall we have here in the mountain, they were looking for treasure based on stories and maps from each of their grandfathers and find a cave together where they discover etchings left by said grandfathers and, long story short, the treasure was friendship.

(Sappy as hell, I know, but I was thinking the whole YA adventure mindframe, ok? Plus, it wasn't my preferred writing language, which is English, and I was 15 and literally improvised the whole thing last minute, didn't even draft anything, I just wrote it directly and barely proofread for typos.)

So I entered the contest last minute with no real hopes, it was just an experiment but it proceed to be way more entertaining than I though, without the pressure of actually wanting to win it was easier than I thought.

Award day came and we all gathered in this fancy huge auditorium we had, it was the fanciest part of the whole school but it still couldn't fit everyone in there, then again most students that came just wanted an excuse not to go to class that morning. Anyway...

One of my cousins won in the teacher category and I was all proud. I watched the 3 winners of the 7th to 9th grade category being awarded and started getting distracted (because unless I was drawing or stimming I had the attention span of a goldfish). Then the 10th to 12th grade category came and I was so distracted that they had to call me twice before I realized I'd won second place!

First place went to 12th grade boy that wrote a story called "The Message", very purple prose and perfect grammar, lovely story, but I digress.

Anyway, the famous author was the one to give me my prize and told me my story was very vivid, there were some typos but he was impressed by the creativity and the amount of action I packed into 5 pages while still giving it a satisfying ending. I barely grasped what the heck he was saying at the time because I still had this certainty that I bullshitted the whole thing last minute and couldn't even remember half of what I wrote but I asked him if he thought I "could be real writer someday" and he just said I already was a "real writer" because all it took to be a real writer was putting it it words, that and actually enjoying the world I made up.

It stuck with me. I didn't realize right away that that was my dream, that I wanted to be a novelist, I still wanted to be an artist and was stuck under all those expectations to choose a proper college path and career (I thought I could do law, AH! what was I thinking?!) but it really stuck with me and shortly after I started getting really deep into a side of fandom that I hadn't experienced before (because I never had much access to internet before that) and started to want to put my stories into words even if I never finished them, I still didn't think I had the patience or the originally.

A few years later I realized that when it comes to something I'm passionate about I do indeed have the patience, by age 12 I had already been writing long comprehensive character bios, story details, transcribed quotes, meta theories, summaries and collecting tons of info of all my favorite fandoms and not to share, just for fun (and probably OCD) this went on for years before I even found out that the internet had whole websites and encyclopedias for such things (not like today though but yeah), and it had never occurred to me the patience that that in itself required.

My first fics were atrocious! Mostly because I made A LOT of typos due to not being used to writing in English full time but my thoughts came more naturally in English and I didn't enjoy writing fiction in Portuguese anyway (poetry though? Absolutely), I also used extremely exaggerated plot points, be it drama, angst or romance. But people liked the stories for the content and not the accurate spelling so I kept at it. I never used to finish my fics back then, not due to lack of patience but mostly because I put too much pressure on myself to make a story perfect and would stop having fun.

When I started writing purely for fun and passion (and realized that not every story needed to be a novel length epic) that's when I started churning out my best (and ironically longest) stories and getting better and better.

I won't lie, having readers encouraging me was key, it's half of the fuel I need to keep going, outside interest is an incredible motivator, but mostly I just realized that the key to good writing is:

Less pressure + more passion = all the patience you need

This doesn't just apply to original work though, it's also about fanfic.

Holy crap, that was a lot of words just to sum everything up on that one bold sentence... See, I could never have written this much when I was in high school, that's also a matter of practicing until letting your thoughts out into writing becomes second nature but that's a whole other story.

Anyway... Thanks for the lovely message. It's the story of thing that means the world to me ❤️

(and PS- no, I haven't won any other contests since that one but I have published articles on magazines, no published novels yet though because I don't think my original ideas are ever good enough to follow through).

#CBDS fic #rach rambles #writing woes #writing contest story

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