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maijobi · 3 years

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missing you

gojo x reader

summary: an unexpected, accidental call and you found yourself running back to the arms of the one person you tried to forget.

a/n: hellow, sorry for being inactive I’ve been on a trip for the past almost three weeks so I hadn’t been able to write anything. but here I am!!! I finally found some time off so I wrote something after I had come across on something on instagram. hope you enjoy this small ‘filler’ story<3

——————————————————————

it had been a while since you and gojo broke up. it wasn’t an easy period of time, but you did your best to get over him. things were fine in the beginning, but more and more every single day you missed something about him. you missed his scent, you missed his touch, you missed his taste, but most importantly... you missed him.

you did everything in your power to avoid any kind of contact with him, or any sort of interaction that might lead you to him. because you knew that you’d be running back to him.

you were laying on your bed, eyes fixated on the ceiling. you were thinking, a little too hard in your opinion, but you couldn’t stop. you were thinking about him again and when you turned your head to look at the hour you couldn’t help but pinch your eyes closed.

3 a.m.

the hour which you always stayed up for him because that was the time he mostly got off of work and gave you a call. yet you were there staring at a block hole of emptiness all because you miss a guy that wears a blindfold over his eyes. pathetic isn’t it.

you brushed your hands over your face, trying to get rid of the stress that was building up. you allowed your eyes to open again and you were staring at the ceiling again. the ceiling which’s details you had memorized because you were staring at it ever since you came back the night of the break up.

you heard your clock ticking, but time didn’t seem to pass. you strummed your stomach lightly in hope to get yourself to sleep, but it was all to waste when your brain didn’t even give you room to think about anything else but him.

suddenly your phone ringed and your first reflex was to pick up that damned phone and answer because you knew who it was. but the moment the phone was in your hand, you couldn’t move an inch.

gojo satoru.

you held the ringing phone in your hand, but your fingers didn’t press a single button and only when the calling had stopped you realized that you were holding in your breath. you gasped for air and let yourself process whatever had just happened.

you stared at your phone intensely in hopes that it would ring again, but it didn’t. you only received a text.

“i’m sorry, I called you by accident..”

you stared at your screen that lit up the dark room you were in, not knowing what exactly to do. you sat upright and took a closer look at the message overanalyzing his ever move.

how did he accidentally call you? how is it that he didn’t directly message you after ‘accidentally’ calling you? why was it your name that had been accidentally called? or was it not an accident..?

questions flooded your mind, but you stopped yourself. I should respond. is what floated in that brain of yours and you were determined to do so. why? because you wanted to show him you were doing great even though you weren’t.

“its okay”

was your response and you were proud of yourself for not breaking down. but at the same time you didn’t want him to think you were completely over it, because after all he had been your everything. the only person that saw you for who you were.

a few minutes passed by and you had almost given in. you wanted to call him, you wanted to text him, you wanted to tell him that you still cared for him. and when all of this was happening you barely thought about how he was feeling, because without you knowing, he was doing worse. so another text came in.

“fuck it. it wasn’t an accident. I wanted to talk to you, I wanted to hear your voice again, to hear you laugh again and I know we are not on the best of terms.. but I just miss you so fucking much.”

you felt your hands tremble and your breath hitch. you swallowed hard and before you knew it, you had pressed call. you didn’t even know what you were going to say or do, but your body had moved on its own. your eyes were wide open and you were staring at the wall while your phone was pressed against your ear. It didn’t even ring twice before the phone was picked up.

“hello?”

you didn’t answer.

“h-how are you?”

again no answer.

“please, just say something, anything.”

his voice sounded desperate, but no matter how many times you opened and closed your mouth, no sound came out.

“even if you don’t want to talk, please listen to me at least. god, I don’t even know where to start.”

it was silent for a while again.

“I just miss you so fucking much.” he said in a whisper tone.

“the usual place in 15 minutes.”, is all that came out of your mouth before you hung up the phone in his face.

you blinked twice and before you knew it you were running around the house, throwing on some random clothing, a sweater, joggers, random shoes and you were running out the door. the cold breeze hitting your face, but you only turned hotter and hotter with every step you took.

it hadn’t even been 15 minutes and yet you were there, breathing heavily and staring at the one figure that was standing there. satoru.

his hair down, blindfolds off and he hadn’t even taken the time to get dressed as he was standing there in his pyjamas, a set you had bought once for him.

he was staring at you and you at him and before you knew it he was walking towards so as if it was out of habit you walked his way, almost ran, and you basically threw yourself on him, throwing your arms around his neck and pulling him down slightly.

his hands snaked around your waist and he pulled you closer. you buried your face in the crook of his neck, allowing his scent to fill in your nose. when you tried to loosen your grip he just pulled you closer. “not yet. please don’t let me go just yet.”

and you didn’t. you didn’t let go. because you missed him just as much as he missed you.

#jjk gojo #gojo drabble #gojo x reader #jujutsu kaisen gojo #gojo fluff #gojo x y/n #gojo satoru #gojo imagine #jujutsu kaisen #jjk #gojo angst

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gale-gentlepenguin · 4 years

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ML Fic: Soulmate Survey Part 32

Happy Halloween to everyone! I hope that you enjoy this treat. Sorry this took so long to write out. This one took a few rewrites to get it where I wanted it to be.

Plus, Real life stuff got in the way So hopefully this will be a nice little treat for you all.

(Master Post)

__________________________________________________________________

Marinette watched in horror as she watched her best friend struggle on the floor.

She dashed to her side, and tried to help Alya get that weird mask off her face.

“By all means go right ahead. Its already too late.” Masquerade laughed as she watched Marinette struggle. “Soon enough she will be helping me take you down.”

The designer pushed the words of the psychotic akuma out of her mind. She refused to let her friend get turned into a mindless drone like before.

“It wont come off!” Marinette grunted as she tried so hard to remove it.

Masquerade watched her bracelet, waiting for a change to occur.

Alya’s muffled screams and frantic movements stopped.

“Alya?”

Marinette jumped up as she watched her friend transform, her casual clothes transformed into a familiar black and white costume. The Wi-Fi symbol on her chest. Lady Wifi has returned.

Masquerade’s bracelet gained a new charm, one looking reminiscent of a cell phone.

“And now she is my friend.” The villain stated as she watched Marinette start stepping away from the enslaved akuma.

“Alya… you need to fight it. You can’t let her control you.”

“Sorry Marinette, but Alya is unable to answer.” Masquerade mocked. “But I can take a message for you.”

Lady wifi stood silent, like an inactive robot, awaiting orders from its master. The inner machinations of the mind are not shown with the emotionless white mask covering her face.

Marinette turned her eyes toward the mask themed akuma, anger burning in her pupils.

“Let her go Lila. Let them all go before things get serious. Your plan will fail, Ladybug and Chat noir will arrive and beat the akuma out of you. Then you will have to answer for this too.”

Masquerade’s smile faded when she saw the fierce look. Marinette was not a sniveling mess, she actually looked even more defiant then before!

“Acting all high and mighty. I think I will enjoy turning you into my helpless puppet next.”

Masquerade lifted her hand towards Marinette, waiting to unmask her deepest secrets, and break her down.

“When I get a peek at what is hiding behind all of that fake courage, it will all come crashing down. Now let’s see your greatest secrets.”

Marinette looked around, trying to think of something. If Lila figured out her big secret, it was over. Ladybug would be exposed. She needed a way out, until she noticed something. Masquerade wasn’t doing anything.

“Huh?”

Marinette was perplexed by the akuma simply standing there.

“Ummm... are you going to do it now or...”

“Why can’t I see your secrets? My powers should allow me to see what you’re hiding and allow me to exploit it. It worked on everyone else I used it on, why not you?”

“Maybe I just don’t have any secrets to hide.” Marinette commented, watching with a bit of satisfaction as the akuma’s smug look shift.

Masquerade felt her frustration and anger boil at the comment. Something wasn’t adding up.

“Hawkmoth!” She cried out in rage.

A purple butterfly outline popped out.

“What is it?” The dark voice connected in her head.

“Why can’t I read Marinette’s secrets?” Masquerade angrily questioned.

“What?”

“Her secrets! I was able to zero in on everyone else I’ve used the ability on. Why does it not work on her!? Of all people I want this power to work on!”

Marinette felt both concerned and a bit flattered that she was the one Lila wanted to defeat the most. It was sort of mutual.

“Your power works on anyone I’ve akumatized, regardless of who it is.” The butterfly villain communicated.

“So… your saying you didn’t akumatize her before? How is that possible?”

“I haven’t gotten to every single person in Paris.”

“You’ve akumatized that stupid pigeon man 26 times! How have you not gotten everyone!?”

“Paris is a big city, even if I akumatized someone every day, I doubt I would have hit 1/10th of the population. Besides, it takes strong negative emotions for me to send out an akuma. And that man seems to just be the easiest target for it. “ Hawkmoth defended himself. “Its not like I WANT to akumatize him every other day.”

“Unbelievable!”

“Just get the miraculous. That is your focus, the girl can wait for later.”

Masquerade’s butterfly outline dispelled as hawkmoth was finished with that conversation.

“Well that sucks. I guess I can just go back to plan A. Having you watch as I turn everyone against you... aren't here. What!”

Masquerade frantically looked around for the teen she had been antagonizing and found that she was no longer in the same spot. In fact, she was no longer in the office!

Marinette had decided to slip away from the akuma while she was having her little tantrum to the evil butterfly man.

“Why didn't you do something!” She shouted at Lady Wifi.

“You did not give me an order.” Lady Wifi answered robotically.

Masquerade glared at the akuma servant. She would almost think it was rebelling against her.

“Even as a mindless servant you still find a way to ruin things.”

She looked around and noticed the other akuma in the room that was still on the floor.

“Dark Owl get up!”

The owl themed akuma got up from the floor. Removing parts of the broken pot from his costume.

Masquerade snapped her fingers. Catching the attention of Dark Owl and Lady Wifi.

“Both of you, I want Marinette brought back to me right now! I want to make sure she stays quiet and sees everything we have set up. I don’t need her causing trouble.”

______________________________________________________________________

“…and that is everything.” A young woman said with a mixture of relief and excitement. She had finally finished setting everything up in the school infirmary. She had organized the files, restocked the bandages, changed the sheets on the resting cots, and put her personal decals on the desk. She was starting her first day as the school nurse, and things have been going up.

She put herself back out there and started dating Curtis, the sweet guy she met last week despite what would’ve normally been a deal breaking misunderstanding, she got into the med school program she wanted to get into and will be attending part time, and she managed to get a job at the school she went to when she went to Lycee.

She heard a ding from the front of the nurse’s office just as she was about to sit down.

“First student of the day. I better see what they need.”

She exited the small office area in the infirmary to see a blonde student who was clearly impatient

“What is taking so long!?” The teen shouted.

“Hello there. How can I help you?”

The blonde looked up a bit to see the nurses smile, she rolled her eyes.

“Who the hell are you? Isnt there supposed to be a different woman here?”

“If you are referring to the previous school nurse, she retired officially last week. I am the new school nurse. You can call me Nurse Angela.”

Angela never really liked using her last name, it made her sound old. So, she would be fine with the kids calling by her first name. It also helps with psychology, allowing more for a social dynamic based on mutual respect rather than authority.

“Whatever.”

Angela felt a twinge of frustration at the girl’s dismissal. But she kept her smile.

“And you are?”

The teen smirked.

“Chloé Bourgeous. And before you ask, yes, the daughter of the mayor.”

Angela felt a shiver go down her spine. She remembered from what the previous nurse told her. That Chloé was the mayor’s bratty daughter who would use her father’s influence to get anyone fired if she got angry enough.

‘That at least explains her rude attitude. She is a spoiled Brat.’

Angela was not going to let this bother her. She was going to take it in stride. She would be kind and courteous as she planned to be with any student at the Dupont.

“So, Chloé. What brings you here?”

Chloé walks in.

“My chair broke because someone sabotaged my chair. I ended up bruising my… anyway I need some ice, and anything to numb the pain.”

“My goodness! That sounds terrible. Who would do such a thing?”

“It was probably Marinette, that nasty little rat. Adding insult to injury now that she is dating Adrien.”

Nurse Angela moved to get some ice from the freezer for the bruised bottom of the Mayor’s daughter, listening to the girl vent. She was sure that whoever this Marinette girl was, probably didn’t do it. And if somehow, she did, it was likely because the annoying blonde deserved it. But that was not something Angela felt was worth mentioning. She kept that bit to herself.

“She is probably blackmailing my adrikins with something. There is no way he would be dating her without some sort of reason.”

“Is it possible that maybe he just likes her?” Angela inquired as she presented the bag of ice to Chloé.

Chloé looked at the nurse as if she had just told her that she had 3 eyes and a scorpion tail.

“Adrien liking Marinette?! That is ridiculous, Utterly ridiculous! There is no way that Adrien would…”

Chloé felt her mind flash through moments. Adrien and Marinette about to kiss for that movie, Adrien and Marinette dancing at her party? The photos she found of them running from fans, that kiss at the picnic during heroes’ day. Adrien taking Marinette to that interview instead of her… The stubborn blonde felt as if everything clicked into place.

“Chloé? Is everything okay?” The nurse called out, trying to get the spaced-out teen’s attention.

“He might actually LIKE her!”

Chloé felt her own skin crawl as she made her realization.

Angela didn’t know how to respond to this situation.

“I am going to straighten Adrien out right now! I am not going to let him make such a foolish mistake!”

The nurse could tell this could be bad if the mayor’s daughter was so heated, what if she got this innocent girl expelled? If she stood by and did nothing then her time at the school would be internally marked with the regret of not stopping such a potential disaster.

“Wait, Miss Bourgeois.”

Chloé stopped.

“What is it?”

“I… I just noticed that you’re limping. The injury might be more serious than you think. Let me have a look at it closer before you leave.”

The mayor’s daughter would simply have left without a second thought. But having a limp would make her walk much less dignified and lacking the power she needs to intimidate, but mainly that she would look lame with a limp.

“Alright, just make it quick.”

______________________________________________________________________________

“I don’t get why you felt the need to leave.” The cat kwami rolled his eyes. “If you want to be rebellious Adrien, we could leave the school and head to the movies. Though if we do, you should invite your girlfriend.”

“Plagg, this isn’t about rebellion or future date ideas. Something isn’t right with this whole situation. I just want to sneak a peek in the office, make sure Marinette and Alya get their story out, and then I am headed right back to class. No problem.” Adrien summarized as they kept walking.

Plagg noticed someone headed their way and went to hide in Adrien’s pocket.

Adrien took notice that it was his homeroom teacher. Perhaps he could ask her.

“Hey Ms.Bustier. Can I ask you a quick question?”

The red headed teacher walked past the teen without acknowledging his question. Her eyes focused on what was ahead.

“That’s weird… She would always stop to help a student.”

Adrien could feel that his favorite teacher may have been affected by something sinister.

“Ms.Bustier, can you hear me out for a second?” He asked as he touched her shoulder to try and get her attention.

The mirage of her appearance shifted from the homeroom teacher to the stylized patchwork costume of a familiar akuma enemy.

Adrien was surprised to see the true form of the imposter. The kiss zombie maker, Zombizou.

The akuma turned to show the face mask that hid her face. Her attention was now firmly on the boy, whether he wanted it or not.

Adrien backed away, nervously keeping his eyes on the teacher as he carefully backed up.

“You know, I think I will just ask someone else.”

Adrien took down the next hall running.

______________________________________________________________________

Masquerade reclined in her chair, her frustration was growing as she wondered what was taking those two minions she sent out to capture Marinette so long.

“They shouldn’t be having that much difficulty. She is just one person!”

She heard a ring, and knew her sentimonster was trying to contact her.

“What is it Simulare?”

“The illusion I had on Zombizou was broken. Someone is on to us, and the minion is in pursuit.”

Masquerade felt a headache forming. She didn’t have time for a wild goose chase. She needed to move on to phase two of her plan, making her army of akuma.

“Track down Marinette and this other person that found out about Zombizou, keep them busy as long as possible. I am going to move on to phase two. Make sure no one is on to us.”

“Understood. I’ll get them back in the office and make sure neither of them escape.”

“Good”

Masquerade ended the call and felt her head ease a bit. The sentimonster she was given was obedient and competent. It was based on her mindset, so it would make sense that it would be capable of handling this problem.

“Now, let’s get that army.”

______________________________________________________________________________

“Give me a break.” Marinette muttered to herself.

She thought she would have time to transform once she escaped the office, but the two akuma were right out of the office before she had time to make sure everything was clear.

In her rush she cut a corner down a hallway and ended up colliding with another person.

“Ouch.” They cry out in unison, both looking to realize who they bumped into. Their faces turned to relief.

“Marinette!” “Adrien!”

The two called out in unison.

“Why are you running?” “Why are you running?”

“An akuma!” “An akuma!”

“An akuma?” “An akuma?”

They both look behind the other to notice the incoming akumas approaching them.

“As cute as this is, we need to go.”

Adrien Grabs Marinette’s Hand and they both head to the open area and try to get to the main entrance.

‘I need to get Adrien somewhere safe, then I can go transform into Ladybug.’ Marinette thought to herself, unaware that Adrien was thinking the same thing.

They make quick movements down hallway, moving up and down staircases to confuse their pursuers. They managed to give them the slip as the controlled akuma seemed to not be able of basic reasoning and quick fake outs and movements.

The two make their way down to what appeared to be the front of the school.

“The entrance!” Marinette called out. “Okay, we split up at the entrance and try to get help. They can’t catch us both.”

The run to the entrance only for them to stop short, colliding with some invisible wall.

It was only after making contact did the front entrance of the school shift back into a wall. The layout of the entire school seemed to shift instantly. The school had been put under an illusion to trick them into thinking they were escaping.

“It’s an illusion. Which means Lila must be involved with that group of akumas.” Adrien exclaimed.

“More like she is the cause. She is the one controlling the akumatized mask wearers. She got the Principal and Alya.”

“Wait, does this mean that Lila’s power is to make akuma!?”

“From what I saw, she can only akumatize people that have been akumatized before using her face masks. You haven’t been akumatized right?” Marinette questioned.

“No, and since she didn't get you, you haven't either right?”

“Yea, though I have had a few close calls.”

“So, if Lila’s power is akumatizing people, what akuma made this illusion on the school?”

“That would be me.” A third voice calls out.

The two turned to look and see a familiar fox themed villain smiling confidently.

“Volpina!”

“Not exactly.”

The Volpina impersonator looked around to see if the other akumatized servents were going to arrive.

“Seems you both are quite clever when it comes to annoying Mistress Masquerade.”

“Masquerade?”

“That’s what Lila’s calling herself.”

“Oh... cause of the masks.”

The villain rolls her eyes, encapsulating the personality of the arrogant volpina that it was pretending to be.

“Masquerade realizes that you two are both quite difficult to snag with mindless servants, so she requested I handle this.”

“No, you won’t.” Marinette grabs Adrien’s Hand and tries to run away only for the Faux Fox to flip in front of them

“Yea, I am not letting you out of my sight. Now be good and come along peacefully.”

Adrien moves in front of Marinette.

“Go, I’ll hold her off.”

“But…”

“Go. I trust you.” Adrien smiles as he looks to her for a moment.

Marinette wanted to stay and fight with him, but she knew that she needed to go and transform. Ladybug will be needed before this blows up.

“I’ll get help.”

Marinette runs away from the two as fast as she can. Adrien making sure to block the way should their foe get any ideas.

“She won’t get far, she will get captured before she even gets a chance.”

Adrien shook his head.

“You would be surprised with how just how amazing Marinette is.”

Marinette rushed out of sight and into the closest bathroom, quickly making sure it was a safe place to transform.

“Coast is clear. Time for Ladybug to step in.”

“Let’s hope we can get to Adrien in time before things get worse.” Tikki commented.

“Don't worry, I trust he’ll be okay. Tikki! Spots on!”

______________________________________________________________________________

“Can you believe it Juleka?” The peppy perfume enthusiast squealed. “Marinette and Adrien are finally an item.”

“Yes, I was there rose.” Juleka commented with an eye roll and a smile.

“I know! I am just so happy for them both.” Rose calms herself a bit. “Though… how will your brother take it?”

The purple haired teen reflected on the comment.

“It will be an adjustment, but I am sure Lulu will be fine once he gets a couple songs out of it.”

“I’ll be sure to be supportive.”

Juleka patted Rose’s head, smiling sweetly at the blonde’s caring attitude. She decided now would be a good time to spring that surprise on her. She was planning on showing her during lunch, but since Ms.Bustier wasn’t in class. Now would be the perfect time to show Rose the earrings she got her.

She casually reached into her bag, sliding her hand into her lunch bag, trying to find the earring box, only to notice it not there. Her hand moved frantically searching.

“Is something wrong?” Rose inquired, a bit of concern on her face.

“No, nothing. Nothing is wrong, just…” Juleka dismissed as she kept searching only to know for certain that her gift was not in there.

“Are you sure?”

“I just need do something really quick.”

She quickly grabbed her phone and calmly while hoping that her brother would see her text.

In her quick movement, she failed to notice the door of the classroom opening.

_______________________________________________________________________

“Psst, Luka. Luka!” A dark-haired teen whispered, trying to get the attention of the teal-tipped hair guitarist that was hiding his sleeping face with an open science book.”

“Hmm?” The tired teen responded with his eyes still closed. He was barely awake. He had been up all night working on that new song that was stuck in his head. He could still hear it playing in his thoughts as he tried to shake himself awake.

“Your phone vibrated, seemed important.”

“Oh, thanks Theo.” He moved his hand to take a look at his phone.

The science teacher was rambling on about molecules or something, clearly unaware of how disinterested everyone in the class was with his boring lecture.

Luka looked through to see a few text messages from his sister.

‘Hey, can you check your lunch to see if there is a jewelry box in there? Rose’s gift is in there.’

‘If you find it, can you swing by around your free period to bring it to me?’

Luka quickly snuck his hand into his backpack and sure enough he felt the small box. He was about to text a response. But stopped when he read the last two texts.

‘Sh*t there is an akuma in the class!’

Luka’s eyes shot open, his sister was in danger. Which also meant his band was also in danger. He needed to get there.

He shot up from his chair. And started making his way to the door.

“Mr.Couffaine, where do you think you’re going?”

“Family emergency.”

The science teacher was about to tell the young boy to wait until his parent calls, but he remembered who is mother was and what she did the last time he held up her kid when Anarke wanted to pick him up early. The teacher proceeded to held back his response.

“Proceed. Just be sure to get the notes from today’s lesson.”

Luka was out the door before the teacher could finish.

______________________________________________________________________

A car speeds down the road, the driver cursing to herself as she tries to move faster.

‘Get in, get Adrien, and get out before everything hits the fan.’

Nathalie mentally repeated to herself. She knows that pushing herself too hard was also dangerous. She couldn't risk feeling weak right now.

The driver slammed the break as she arrived at the school. She needed to hurry. She parked the car and opened the door.

“Lets hope that this akuma hasn't gotten to Adrien yet.”

_______________________________________________________________________

Ms. Bustier’s class had diverted all their attention to the costumed individual in the front of the classroom. The eerie masks that adorned her costume seemed to unsettle everyone.

Juleka put her phone away and joined in on what everyone was staring at

Alix was the one to say what was on everyone’s mind.

“Who the f*** are you?”

The akuma smirked.

“Excellent, a volunteer.”

Raising her hand and pointing towards Alix, her charm bracelet began to glow.

“Interesting, seems that you have quite a soft spot for cute things.”

The class turned to look at Alix with confusion.

Alix kept her cool.

“And? Is there a point?” Alix rolled her eyes, ignoring the akuma’s attempt to get under her skin. It would take more than that to actually do anything to her.

“You pretend you have this ‘Devil may care’ attitude, that you are too cool to care about what people think, but really you are more obsessed with how people perceive you than anyone else in here.”

Alix felt her smirk falter for a second.

“You are really sensitive about your height and anytime someone brings it up you are in a bad mood for the rest of the day. But what really gets to you is your ‘Family’. You hate how your brother is a laughing stock because of his crackpot theories and your greatest fear is that no matter how much you try to be this punk rebel, you will always be cast as ‘The Conspiracy nut’s sister’.”

“Shut up! You don’t know my life!” Alix yelled.

“Not so fun getting exposed, is it?”

The class realized immediately who this mysterious akuma was.

Masquerade smiled as she flung a mask right at the pink haired teen. Causing her to fall down. And struggle to get the mask off, but before anyone could help her. It was too late.

The class could only watch in horror as their classmate transformed into their Akuma persona. Before standing up.

The class tried to make a break for it. They knew full well the dangers of this new akuma.

“Timebreaker, guard the door.”

The akuma skated to the door and everyone jumped back. They knew that touching Timebreaker was not a good idea.

“Lila, this isn’t cool. Let Alix go.” Nino called out.

The Mask akuma shook her head.

“Lila is not a thing anymore. She was unmasked and dismissed. But now I have a new mask, I’m Masquerade. Soon enough, you will all be unmasked and given a new mask that better suits you. Alya knows that very well.”

Nino’s his eyes flared at the statement.

“What did you do to my girl?”

Masquerade pointed her hand at him just as her charm bracelet glowed, now with a rollerblade charm added to it.

“The same thing I am about to do to all of you.”

______________________________________________________________________

Will the rest of the class fall victim to Masquerade’s evil plan? Will Ladybug be able to save Adrien from the Sentimonster? Will Nathalie get to Adrien before its too late? Will I ever update consistently?

Fine out all these questions and more in the next part.

Thank you all for reading the most recent addition to Soulmate Survey.

Please let me know your thoughts on this chapter and if you really liked it. Reblog it. (Sharing is the only way my story actually gets out.) Plus, tagging has been kind of glitchy for me, so until that gets straightened out, I can't tag people for the story at the moment.

#ml #soulmate survey #miraculous ladybug #miraculous fanficiton #ml au #ss #miraculous #masquerade akuma #masquerade #adrien agreste #marinette dupain cheng #lady wifi #lila rossi #ladybug #tikki #plagg #adrinette #lovesquare

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koreanstudyjunkie · 2 years

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안녕하세요 팔로워들~

[TLDR]

This is just a short announcement to the people who follow/learn from my posts. Thank you and I know I have been inactive the past month. Maybe you don't even care, but I'm planning to start posting again very soon😅 (might be next week, could be at the start of May.)

[You don't have to read this part...]

Maybe even as soon as tomorrow. I honestly love tumblr, and I will be more active starting either next week or the week after (May). I have like 5 other social media platforms that I try to post on, so sometimes Tumblr ends up getting neglected.

I always say to myself that 'I love Tumblr, but Tumblr does not love me back' lol😂 so that's why I usually end up convincing myself sometimes that I should just not post, when I know I actually really want to. Tumblr has been, without a doubt, one of the hardest platforms of all the other ones I make content for (Instagram, Pinterest, Facebook, My Website, Etc.) to grow an audience on. Humbling😌

Although I am proud of the, I believe a little over 1500-1600 followers I have here. I know followers on Tumblr are a little different than other media. I don't really care about the amount of followers on any social media, but it's easy to get caught up in the numbers. Sorry for rambling, It's just a roundabout way of saying I should be making posts for those 100 or so people who often learn with my tumblr posts and really like them. But sometimes I forget and get stuck on the numbers and then I think why am I even posting here🥲Anyways, just my brain doing its thing.

I want to make a masterlist for all my posts to make them easier to go through, but I'm kind of a boomer when it comes to Tumblr🤣 I'll try though guys I swear!

If you use other social media besides Tumblr and want to check it out - here you go. I (have different types of content on all of them)

My Instagram: @koreanstudyjunkie

My Pinterest: @Kstudyjunkie

My Blog: koreanstudyjunkie.com/blog

Other Stuff: my linktree

#i'm back #sorry for rambling #tumblr

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red-riding · 4 years

Text

Picture Perfect: Thranduil X Reader

So this is a modern girl in middle earth series thing I am doing, who happens to be a photographer. This Oneshots took surprisingly long, so sorry for being pretty inactive this week, this oneshots a the culprit. I hope you guys like this as much as I did. Should I make a part two?

Here you were, being lead into a cave like palace by guards, with oddly pointed ears. You would be hard pressed to explain exactly how you got here.

It all started when you went off a trail on a hike you were on chasing after an elk trying to get the perfect photo. While chasing after the elf you tripped and fell into a river as you were trying to cross it by jumping between rocks. It would be impossible though to explain what happened when you hit the water but it felt almost as if you were going through a portal. You fell in a river on one side and fell out of a completely different river on the other.

You trudged yourself out of the shallow river you found yourself in. Something was wrong, the forest you were in now was a polar opposite from the evergreen pine forest you started in. The forest felt sick, decayed, and mirky you could say.

You wondered cautiously through the forest, Snapping some atmospheric photos as you did. Panic began to set in, as you began to realized how utterly fucking lost you were. Just as you were about to give up on you heard voice speaking in a language that you couldt quite place or understand.

You made your way to the voices, maybe these people could help you find your way home. As the group of people came into view you made out that they were wearing some kind of armor, liken to something you would see in a fantasy game like legend of Zelda or Skyrim. They looked to be surrounded by massive dead bodies of spiders. Was this some halloween haunting thing? This could not be real could it?

Before you approached the group, you decided to snap some pictures of the unique scene. You then approached the odd armored group.

“Hello? Umm could any of you help me find m- Ah!” You let out a shocked scream as the tall armored group all pointed arrows towards you. A tall red haired women stepped towards you, and spoke to you in a questioning tone in a language you could not comprehend. She then switched to english when she saw you were not understanding her. “Who are you! and what is your business here.” She demanded.

“I umm. My name is y/n. and Im not sure why Im here, Im kinda lost.” You nervously explained. These people could fricken kill you, and the best you could do was chuck your camera or shoe at them. Which neither option was effective in the slightest.

The red haired women starred you down for a second, seeming to be looking for any sigh of you lying. She then spoke to the others seemingly giving them orders. Two guards grabbed you and began leading you through the forest, all of the group keeping a watchful eye on you as they walked.

And now here you were, being lead over a bridge into a mind blowing cave like palace. If only the guards would let go of your hands so you could take some landscape photos. You were lead across twisting platforms and up many stairs until you came across a grand platform with what looked to a throne twisted and formed out of branches. On this throne sat probably one of the most attractive people you have ever seen.

Despite the fact he was sitting you could tell he must have been quite tall, at least seven foot. He had long perfect blond hair with stark contrasting dark eye brows, and the most beautiful blue eyes you have ever seen. His eyes seemed to hold years and years of knowledge, despite the mans youthful looks.

The guards led you to the foot of his throne and bowed to him as they talked to him once again in the language you could not understand. The man on the throne moved his eyes from the guards to you.

“Why does a human girl wonder into my woods? How foolish must you be?” The man asked, voice holding authority and strength you had never heard before.

“Ummm.. You see there was this elk, I was chasing after to get a picture of.” You nervously explained.

“picture? what is this” The man demanded.

“You don't know what picture is.. With your looks im surprised you don't model or something.” You spoke giggling. Where were you? Where could they not understand what picture was?

“Excuse me?! Do you know who I am? I am King Thranduil Oropherion ruler of mirkwood. I demand you tell me what picture is or I will have you killed!” Thranduil threatened.

You tamed your giggling and moved to slowly pull out your camera.

“This here is a camera, it takes pictures.“ You explained.

“Would you like me to take one of you?” You asked.

Thranduil looked confused at the device in your hand and rose from his throne and made his way down to you. Thranduil starred you down then his eyes moved to the camera in your hands. He took it from you without asking, and looked over it turning it around in his hands like a toddler seeing a toy for the first time. In his fiddling with the device Thranduil accidentally clicked the button to shoot a photo and the camera flashed into his face making him let out a surprised gasp and drop the camera.

“hey! Mr.King dude, be carful with that! Its was expensive!” You exclaimed as you scrambled to your knees to pick up the camera and look over it. Thankful it was undamaged only a little scratched. The nicked screen displayed an awkward upward angle shot of a shocked king thranduil making you giggle.

“You know, King dude. Even from this unflattering angle you don't look half bad.” You complimented and showed the king the view finder to see his eyes and all the guards closely watching eyes fill with wonder.

“Thats, extraordinary. I have never seen such a device in all my thousands of years. You must take more.. Pictures of me and others. I will then help you find your way home” The king ordered.

Did he just say thousands of years? You must have miss heard him. “Umm sure. you look picture perfect anyways” You said with a shrug.

#thranduil #thranduil x reader #thranduil x you #thranduil x y/n #hobbit #hobbit x reader #tolkien #tolkien x reader #elf #elf x reader #mirkwood #lord of the rings #lord of the rings x reader #oneshot #hobbit oneshot #thranduil oropherion #thranduil oneshot #fluff

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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 4 years

Text

Never Too Late 2

Warnings: noncon sexual acts (later in series)

This is dark!Steve Rogers and explicit. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: You’re turning forty and life seems to be forging ahead on its one way track, that is until you meet Steve Rogers.

Note: Things are... going. But I’m doing my best.

Thank you. Love you guys!

As always, if you can, please leave some feedback, like and reblog <3

It was about time you started doing something. Past due, you’d say. Your body was screaming for it. You were no longer the college grad who could sit and eat potato chips to her heart’s desire. Or the thirtysomething in denial of the looming 4-0. No you had stepped upon the threshold and you felt and saw the changes which came with another decade.

And yet, the simple act was daunting. Your old beat up sneakers squeaked as you descended the stairs of your building to the street. You wore a pair of thin track pants you’d bought years ago on the unspent whim of a New Years’ resolution. Your sports bra was new and uncomfortable; the tank top a bit too tight for your liking.

You did your best to stretch outside. You kicked your foot up against the brick and lunged a few times forward and back. Your muscles were stiff from inactivity; from years of neglect; from time. You hopped in place as worked up to your departure.

You began at a slow jog. You reached the first corner out of breath.

You were old. Accept it.

You continued and wove your way to the park where few others paced themselves around the fountain and winding paths where happy owners walked their happier pets. Another breather as you gasped. The sweat gathered under the cotton shirt and created a humid tent in the pants.

You gripped your hips and stared ahead. Keep going. You pushed off your heels and bent your arms as you fought your way through the tension in your chest, the burn in your lungs, the ache in your knees. One day at a time, it would get easier. You hoped.

You wondered how you’d manage to fit in your new regime on workdays. A morning run would mean even earlier days; likely shorter nights. You’d have to make it work. You didn’t have another ten years to wait around; if you did, it might be too late to change.

You were tired. Of the years passing like second. Of the tedium. Of nothing happening. Of failed hopes. Of pointless relationships and temporary stability. You weren’t where you wanted to be and you’d likely never get there but there were other desires in life. Other achievements to be made.

Your mother could resent you for your singleness; your lack of familial bliss. She could not begrudge you entirely. Not if you bettered yourself. Not if you turned it around and tried. Not if you set aside your passivity for proaction. Because it was your life, not hers.

When you got back to your building, you were ready to collapse. The old elevator was still out of order. It’s old grated doors marked with an X of tape and a handwritten sign. You dragged yourself up the stairs and stumbled inside. You downed a glass of water and splayed over your single armchair. Your heart slowed as you flipped on the television and checked off day one in your newly downloaded app.

👟

Day two. Exhausted and still sore, you made yourself go. You had an hour before you had to be back to shower and ready for work. The day seemed even longer ahead of you. Eight hours at a desk in pain, dealing with the frustrated public. It was worse than you could imagine. Your night was spent with an ice pack and half-dazed.

Day three, four, five. A tic in your phone which barely felt worth it. Six almost saw you giving up as you ambled around work with splints in your calves. Seven, another day off, but you still had work to do. You pulled on your freshly washed track pants and a loose tee. The last days of summer approached but the heat had yet to relent.

You took your usual route to the park. You stopped at the entrance and stretched a second time. You found it was helping. The pain was duller, the aches less spread out. You set off and found your step. A week and you could already see the ounce of improvement. Well, inside more than out.

You measured your breaths as you neared the curve shrouded in trees; leaves still lush and aromatic. Soon enough, they’d darken and drop. Time was like footsteps. Each one forward took you further from where you were and yet you could feel like you were standing still or come to a startling stop that left you hurtling into the void.

Like then. Your worn treads slid over the ground as you collided with the unexpected runner coming your way. Your eyes had been above him, staring at the rounded tree tops and their sprawling branches. On the early morning hues that cast the sentinels in a placid mural.

You stumbled back, your hands reaching back to catch yourself but you never met the ground. Two thick hands caught your upper arms and steadied you. You looked up, both surprised and not by the face staring back at you. Both familiar and not. After so long in the city, the last two weeks had seen as many run-ins with Steve Rogers. More, now.

“You,” He smiled as he slowly released you, his fingers tickled your arms.

“You.” You echoed dully.

“Small world,” He chuckled.

“New York isn’t that small,” You said. “You must think I’m some weirdo.”

“Or maybe I’m the weirdo?” He ventured. “Didn’t peg you as a runner.”

“Wow, thanks,” You scoffed. “And I’m not. Well, wasn’t. New hobby.”

“New?” He raised a brow.

“One week,” You shrugged. “Not much and I’m sure once it’s cold, I’ll go back to my sloth,” You said. “Uh, sorry about… wasn’t looking where I was going.”

“Not at all. Neither was I.” He smiled.

“Well, I, uh…” You looked past him, “Have a lot to go.”

“Can I join you?” He asked. You squinted at his eagerness.

“Weren’t you going…” You pointed over your shoulder.

“I just do circles,” He said. “Doesn’t really matter which direction.”

“I’m not very fast.”

“It’s not a race.”

“Alright,” You threw your hands up, just wanting to get it over with. “But if you feel like leaving me behind, don’t think it’ll bother me.”

“Come on,” He turned so he faced the same direction. “It’s always easier with company.”

You exhaled and righted yourself before you fell back into a jog. He kept pace beside you. You could smell his sweat. You tried to keep your breathing quiet.

“I used to run with my pal Sam but… he joined a gym.” He said. “So, new hobby?”

“Hobby is putting it… nicely,” You huffed. “More like trying to make up for my own laziness.”

“It’s never too late to make a change,” He preened. “You got any other hobbies? Maybe something you enjoy more?”

You glanced at him. Your chest hurt but you didn’t want to slow down.

“Cross-stitching? Tetris?” You offered. “Nothing special. Just… life.”

“How’s work?” He asked.

You were silent as you kept running. You listened to the sound of your foot falls as your breath came faster.

“I--” You came to a stop and turned to him as you touched your side. “Forgive me for being a bit--confused but--” You gulped. “Don’t you have friends? Super friends?”

“Co-workers,” He said and his hands went to his hips. “Oh, maybe you already have enough friends then.”

“Look, I’m forty, I work the same job I had sixteen years ago, I live in a box, and I’m falling apart,” You shook your head. “Not many people are trying to be my friend. All my friends have families; obligations.”

“Well, it sounds like we have a lot in common,” He grinned. “So we should be great friends.”

You frowned. His optimism was irksome. His refusal to be rebuffed more so.

“Friends?” You repeated darkly.

“Maybe just running buddies?” He suggested. “I do get a bit lonely out here with just the chipmunks.”

“Steve.” You uttered.

“And I think you need someone to keep you on the right path, hmm? I’ve been told I’m a great motivator. Bit of a hard ass but I’ve got a talent and I use it.”

You considered him. He was right. An app wasn’t going to keep you going forever. Already, you were tempted to drag the little icon to the bin. Already you were tempted to sleep in. Already you were succumbing to failure.

“You sure?” You asked.

“What time do you usually run?”

“Well, weekdays, I head out at six, back home at seven, then off to work,” You explained. “Weekends I get an extra hour of sleep.”

“Alright,” He turned and set off. You followed. “I can’t promise every day. Lots of work out of town but weekends at least.”

“You really don’t--”

“Maybe if you start saying yes, you’ll find what you’ve been looking for,” He intoned.

You grumbled and pressed your lips together. He was right. You hated that he was. Something about this man both intrigued and disturbed you. He was kind but with a hint of pushiness. You just couldn’t decide if his insistence was merely clueless or something more deliberate.

👟

Another week and the mornings were easier, though the days continued to drag. Steve met you again on Monday and Tuesday but Wednesday he was gone. You didn’t mind so much but he returned on Saturday. He waited for you at the park entrance, a wrapped box in his hand. You were curious but not nosy.

You slowed as he greeted you.

“Hey,” He smiled. “I didn’t realise until after I’d gone that I had no way to tell you I’d be away.”

“It’s fine.” You assured him. “Think I managed just fine on my own.”

“Work,” He said. “But a quick mission so I can’t complain.”

“I saw you on the news,” You looked towards the fountain that stood further inside the park. “I figured.”

“Still, I think maybe… I’d like a more direct line.” He pulled out his phone as he kept the box under his arm.

“Are you asking for my number?”

“In case anything happens,” He said. “I mean, we’re not strangers.

“Sure, but…” You wetted your dry lip with your tongue. “Okay. Um, I don’t have my phone on me but I can give you my number.”

“Great, I’ll text you.” He unlocked his cell and carefully keyed in your details as you recited them. He replaced the phone in the strap around his bicep. “There. Your very own on-call hero.”

“Right,” You nodded slowly.

“Oh, and…” He grabbed the box from beneath his elbow. “Happy belated birthday.”

“What? Uh, I can’t. You already--”

“A cake? Really. Everyone should have a cake on their birthday.” He held out the gift. “And presents too.”

You looked at the small square box. You chewed your lip and shifted your weight on your feet.

“It’s really nothing special.” He urged. “If you’re wondering, July fourth,” He pointed to himself. “So you’re in the clear.”

“Steve--”

“I already got it and… it’s not really my colour,” He shoved it closer. “Please.”

You slowly took it as you gave a quiet thank you. You carefully slipped a finger in the crease of red wrapping paper and tore it open. A dusty pink smart watch shone back at you. You blinked and looked up at him.

“The guy at the store said you sync it with your phone and it can count your steps and all that. Send you reminders.” He rubbed his neck. “I thought it would be useful. Especially when I’m away.”

You tilted your head at him then looked back to the clear plastic window of the box. It was expensive, you could tell.

“It’s… a lot.” You said.

“It’s a gift. It’s not about the price tag,” He shrugged. “Come on. Try it on.”

You scratched your hairline and muttered. You went over to a bench and sat as you worked at opening the box. You took out the watch and admired its round face. He offered to do it up for you and you turned your wrist over. He secured it and you held up your hand as you looked it over.

“You like it?” He asked. “They had gold but I liked the pink.”

“Nice color,” You affirmed. “I guess… I guess I can use it.” You lowered your arm and hid the watched with your other hand. “Thank you.”

“It’s nothing. It’s what friends do,” He stood and gathered the packaging. “You don’t need all this, do you?”

“No,” You stood. “Thanks.”

He tossed it in a bin surrounded by hedges and you neared.

“Well, should we get going?” He asked.

“Yeah. Maybe an extra lap today?” You said. “Push myself a little.”

#steve rogers #dark steve rogers #dark!steve rogers #steve rogers x reader smut #dark steve rogers x reader #dark!steve rogers x reader #fic #au #dark fic #dark!fic #series #never too late #mcu #marvel #captain america

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maraudingthrough · 4 years

Note

i loved your mac n cheese lil fic! its lovely, i am in love with you carachterization of sirius. i was wondering if i could request a oneshot with him when they are still at hogwarts and they have been dating for a few years and sirius is disowned and goes to the potters. when they come back to school he tells y/n and she promises him that as soon as they finish school they will get married and have their own family. i think its a cute concept and you'd rock it!

Gimme Shelter: Sirius Black x Female!Reader One Shot

Word Count: 1.5K

Warnings: fluff, at the end I added a nonsense part that you’ll be like?? what??

A/N: Hi honey! Thanks for your kind words! I didn't like too much how the Mac &Cheese turned out, but I'm really happy you liked it! So Sirius gets disowned in 1975, I believe summer as he was in his house. He was sixteen apparently and he would be starting his fifth year. For the sake of making sense reader knows Sirius since the first years at Hogwarts but started dating him recently, half in their fourth year. I hope that’s okay! Also Reader is not a pure blood witch, for the sake of some minor plot points.

A/N 2: Not about this story, but I might be a little inactive for a week or two, I got midterms and I have to start studying 😒 Feel free to leave requests, I’ll receive them but take a little more time to do them! All request that I received until now are wonderful! So if you sent me a request, it was well received! Don’t worry that I’ll reply them as soon as I can 💕💕

To claim (Y/N) was pissed (and really, really worried) was an understatement. She had sent Sirius letters all summer. The first few weeks he had replied almost immediately, but around August the witch sent letters and they remained unanswered. A few days before the term started, however, she received a small piece of parchment from the Black’s family owl, a neat and gorgeous handwriting detailed “Kindly stop sending your letters to this house”; it wasn’t signed, and the handwriting didn’t look like Sirius’. So (Y/N) started thinking, and thinking and thinking.

What if his mother found out she wasn’t a pure blood? Oh Godric! Maybe she had read the letters!? (Y/N) was mortified and embarrassed. What if Sirius was punished because of her? Maybe his mother was so pissed she arranged a marriage for Sirius? Did Sirius break up with her? Did she miss a letter?

Distressed, (Y/N) sent letters to anyone who knew Sirius. It was pointless really, as they where returning to Hogwarts in just 3 days and she would see everybody there, but maybe someone knew something.

She got a small letter from Remus, who told her he haven’t heard from Sirius. Similar responses from Peter and Lily arrived later. She received no response from James, but usually James took for ever to reply so she wasn’t expecting no response from the start.

(Y/N) took a lot of time and effort on making her hair beautiful the morning when she was starting the term. She looked all around the platform, but didn’t find Sirius or The Marauders, maybe because she arrived way too early. Eventually (Y/N) got distracted when her friends arrived, and got dragged to a compartment.

Her friends were so exited and had done so many thing over the summer that she was really distracted. She didn’t notice when the rain started to move, it wasn’t until she saw Remus Lupin and Lily Evans walking down the aisle she remembered.

“Hey! What are you guys doing?” she asked, walking out of her compartment.

“Hey (Y/N). We are on prefect duties.” Remus greeted, pointing at their badges. The witch gasped and smiled, hugging both of them quickly.

“Congratulations guys!” both Remus and Lily thanked her, but dismissed her quickly, having to go back to their duties. (Y/N) got back to her friends, as they where calling her, needing her opinion on who was the most good looking wizard outside of Hogwarts, they had pictures from Witch Weekly Magazine to help them decide.

(Y/N) had to go to the loo, so she got out of the compartment, all flushed and happy, wiping small tears of laugher from her eyes, still chuckling at something dumb the girls had said. All of a sudden, she collided with someone. “Sorry! I wasn’t looking where I was going” she said giddy and full of happiness, endorphins flowing all over her body. She met her boyfriend’s grey eyes, he looked awful. “Well, hello stranger.” she greeted, her happy high plummeting to the ground at his miserable face, clearly he felt awful, but why?

Before (Y/N) could open her mouth to talk again, Sirius embraced her so tightly he knocked her air out of her lungs. She returned the hug immediately, but was really worried now. He usually greeted her with a cheeky remark, a flirty comment and the kissed her forehead, but he didn’t even speak a word.

“Sirius, are you okay?” she asked, still in his arms.

“I missed you so much.” He whispered, his breath shaky. The witch started to believe he might be crying. They needed privacy ASAP, so she pulled him inside with her to the girls changing room and locked the room.

“What happened?” she asked cupping his face, his crestfallen eyes making her worry. “You are making me worry love.”

“I ran away.”

“Oh Godric.” she gasped. “When? Where did you go? How did you manage? You should have come home, you know I would let you stay.” Sirius smiled, grabbing her hands and squeezing them.

“I went to James’ house. I was well received. The Potters are very kind.” (Y/N) wanted to smile, but wasn’t able to.

“Did she... did she do something to you?” she asked, afraid that Walburga Black’s rage got the best of him. “I won’t hesitate to kick her arse.”

“As much as I would love you to defend my honor, she didn’t do anything. I just had enough.”

“You should have told me. I was worried sick, and then I got a piece of parchment from your house that told me to stop sending letter and I thought that maybe you were going to marry some stuck up pure-blood bitch and that you were going to break up with me-”

“Wow, wow.” Sirius stopped her, cupping her cheeks. “Love, stop. I didn’t want to tell you because I didn’t want you to worry.”

“Well, I worried all the same!” she exclaimed, crossing her arms and flushing, realizing it might have been a little childish to think all of that. Sirius smirked and leaned down to kiss her gently.

“I’m sorry.” he whispered and kissed her again. They got caught in the moment until someone knocked on the door.

“I need you both to come out know before I’m obliged to take Gryffindor house points.” Remus’ voice sounded through the door. (Y/N) giggled as Sirius started to kiss her all over. “Padfoot!” he exclaimed.

Sirius sighed and opened the door, a happy and flushed (Y/N) waved at Remus, smiling apologetically. “Sorry.” she apologized, as Remus shook his head. Sirius took her back to her friends and kissed her forehead. “Let’s talk later, yeah?” she asked, Sirius nodding his head as he returned to his friends.

***

(Y/N) successfully sneaked past curfew to the Astronomy Tower, waiting for Sirius. She wanted to ask him all about his summer, why did he ran away and what did he do at the Potters.

He arrived and got himself comfortable, laying in (Y/N)’s lap. “Hello to you too.” she told him, raking a hand though his hair. “Now, tell me anything.”

“I ran away. And got disowned.” he explained calmly. He sighed and explained how it happened. “The worst thing is that Regulus is still on that house.”

“D’you reckon he’ll be alright?”

“I think so, yeah. I was never part of that family to begin with, not since I got sorted out in Gryffindor. Regulus was the perfect son to my mother, so I did not exist anymore. As long as Reg behaves the way he had been until now, he’ll be alright.”

(Y/N) felt pity for him, he deserved a family that loved him, he was a good boy, he was noble and kind, contrary to what he usually showed to anyone who wasn’t a friend.

“When we finish school...” she started, but stopped herself. If she told him he might freak out.

“What?” Sirius asked, curious.

“Nothing.” she replied, looking anywhere but his face. He sat up and nudged her, pulling her arm like a little boy.

“C’mon, tell me.”

“You’ll laugh, or freak out.”

“I won’t.” he smirked, squeezing her hand.

“When we finish school, and if you want, of course... we can...” she took a deep breath. “We can make our own family, we can marry and have our own children.” Sirius was silent, so (Y/N) started to talk really fast. “I know we are young and we have been a couple for a few months, but I really like you and I want you to have the family that you deserve.”

“Promise?” he asked, his voice weak and fragile. “Do you promise?”

“I promise. As long as you don’t get tired of me.” He hugged her and kissed her deeply.

“I could never get tired of you.” he admitted, kissing her over and over again. “So, how many kids do you want?”

“I- I haven’t though about it.” she told him, her cheeks flushed. “A cute boy, with your hair.”

“And my personality?” he asked, eyebrows raised.

“Gosh no, with mine.” (Y/N) told him, making him bark with laugher. They fooled around with some more, sharing kisses and praises, commenting about the future.

“How many times do I have to warn you two? Five points from Gryffindor.” Remus stern voice sounded from behind them, making (Y/N) yelp. Sirius laughed and helped (Y/N) up.

“I’ll escort the young lady to her chambers.” he declared, bowing comically at Remus. Moony rolled his eyes.

“If I find you two again fooling around I’ll give you detention.” he said, crossing his arms.

“Noo, Remus!! Don’t pull that card on us! We’ll behave!” (Y/N) told him with a smile, jumping and riding his back. Remus gasped (but grabbed her legs, letting her piggy ride his back) and Sirius laughed, walking by their side.

“Keep your voice down, we’ll get detention if anyone catches us.” despite his tone, Remus was smiling. (Y/N) climbed down his back and jumped to Sirius’ back instead.

“Run, Sirius, run!” she squealed, giggling when Sirius started running down the hall.

#sirius black x reader #sirius black drabble #sirius black #sirius x y/n

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stranger-who-writes-fiction · 3 years

Text

Back at it again with my self-indulgent comic posts. This time! It’s Supergirl: Woman of Tomorrow #3, perhaps the most tonally-distinct entry yet, with shades of The Twilight Zone.

Spoilers!

So, as mentioned, this issue is the most deliberate in terms of both its pacing and its tone, IMO.

What is that tone, you ask?

To quote Alex Danvers, from “Midvale”: Hello, darkness.

THE STORY:

Kara and Ruthye are still looking for Krem Clues in the alien town of Maypole.

(Which is actually just Small Town, USA, complete with vintage 50s aesthetics.)

But the locals are clearly hiding something! So Kara and Ruthye continue to investigate, and they eventually discover what it was that the residents of Maypole were so keen to keep hidden.

Genocide, basically.

As I said, this issue struck me as very Twilight Zone; a genre story involving the build-up to a dark twist, all set against the backdrop of an idyllic small town. (Think, like, “The Monsters are Due on Maple Street” but instead of focusing on the Red Scare, it’s classism and racism.)

The wealthier blue aliens kicked all of the purple aliens out of town, and when space pirates showed up to pillage and plunder, the blue aliens made a deal with them: the lives of the purple aliens in exchange for their safety.

Which is where the episodic story connects to the larger mission; it was Krem who suggested the trade, and then joined up with the Brigands (space pirates) when he was freed by the blue aliens.

The issue ends with no tidy resolution to the terrible things Kara and Ruthye discovered, but they do have a lead on where to find Krem, now, as well as Barbond’s Brigands.

KARA-CTERIZATION:

Ironically, it’s here, in the darkest chapter yet, that we get the closest to what might be considered ‘classic’ Kara.

Which I think comes down to that aforementioned deliberate pace--this issue is a little slower, a little quieter. It gives the characters some room to breathe.

That’s not to say Crusty Kara is gone. Oh no. She is still very much Crusty. XD

But anyways. A list! Of Kara moments I loved!

I mentioned a few of these in a prior post when the preview pages came out: I like the moment where Kara blows down the guy’s house of cards, and I like that the action is echoed later in the issue when she grabs the mayor’s desk and tosses it aside. A nice visual representation of the escalation of Kara being, like. Done with these creeps. (Creeps is an understatement but you get the idea.)

Another one from the preview pages: Kara explains to Ruthye that her super hearing won’t necessarily help her detect a lie, especially if she’s dealing with an alien species she’s not familiar with.

It not only reveals her level of competence and understanding of her super powers, it also shows that, you know. She’s a thinker. She’s smart.

Amazing! Showing, rather than telling us, that Kara is smart! Without mentioning the science guild at all wow hey wow.

(Sorry, pointed criticism of the SG show fandom.)

Anyways.

I dig the PJs!

And Kara catching the bullet! Not only are the poses and character acting great, it’s also a neat bit of panel composition:

We start with Ruthye’s POV, and then move to the wide shot of the room. The panel where Kara actually catches the bullet is down and to the side of the wide shot panel--we move our eyes the way her body/arm would have to move to intercept the bullet. Physicality in static, 2D images!

Also, like. It’s a very tense moment, life-or-death, but. Ruthye’s wide-eyed surprise at the bullet in Kara’s hand? Kind of adorable.

I was pretty much prepared for the page of Kara shielding Ruthye from the gunfire to be the highlight--it was one of the first pages King shared and I was like, ‘yeah, YEAH.’ But, shockingly? The TRUE highlight of the issue?

Where do I BEGIN?!?!

EVERYTHING. About this moment. Is lovely.

From Kara holding Ruthye above the bench to explaining the concept of a piggyback ride, to telling her:

“I’m going to hold my hands here, and these hands can turn coal into diamonds, so they’re not going to let go. I’m going to keep you safe.”

HNNNNNNNNNNNG.

Ruthye’s narration--about how Kara had avoided flying as she was concerned it would freak Ruthye out--just adds a whole additional layer of YES, GOOD, YES, and her line on that splash page is great: “You see, all that time, she was worried about me.”

HNNNNNNNNNNNG. AGAIN.

To say nothing of the STELLAR ARTWORK.

And SPEAKING of that stellar artwork, Evely and Lopes continue to knock it out of the park. Each issue is distinct and beautifully crafted, a true joy to look at.

Before I jump into more of the art, a few final notes of character stuff in general.

Ruthye is the one most affected by the experience in Maypole, as she can’t comprehend how a society of people that look so nice and gentle and peaceful could have been party to such a horrible act.

One of the big criticisms of the book thus far is that Supergirl is not the main character, and I guess I can agree with that observation. Typically, in Western media, the main character is the one who goes through the most change in the story.

And, yeah. That’s Ruthye.

As I was reading the end, where Ruthye sits on the curb and Kara hugs her, I was imagining how the scene would’ve played, had King stuck with the original idea for the series: Kara as the one learning to be tough/experiencing all of this for the first time, and while I think that could certainly work...

I continue to appreciate that King literally flipped the script; that Kara, especially in this issue, is like, ‘I’ve seen this, I know this,’ as opposed to being the one going through a loss of innocence.

*Marge Simpson voice* I just think it’s neat!

Because Kara’s been a teen in DC comics for so long--ever since she was reintroduced to the main DCU continuity, actually--so this is all brand new territory, here. Having an older Kara who’s SEEN SOME STUFF.

(Alsoooooo, since Bendis made the destruction of Krypton not just inaction and climate disaster, but rather, genocide, and the subtext of a Kryptonian diaspora text, the waitress’ derogatory comment regarding the the destruction of Kryton, as well as Kara picking up the bad vibes the entire time, suggests not just a broad commentary on discrimination in all its forms, but specifically allegorical anti-Semitism. The purple aliens being forced out of their homes and into substandard living conditions, then the blue aliens--their neighbors and once-fellow residents--essentially allowing the space pirates to kill them, making them literal scapegoats, Kara discovering the remains of the purple aliens, and Ruthye’s horror at the ‘banality of evil’...yes. A case could be made, I think.)

(Which would probably require a post unto itself and a lot more in-depth discussion, nuance, and cited sources.)

(Should mention that King has brought up that both he and Orlando--the other Supergirl writer he talked to--are Jewish, and for him personally, that shaped his views on Kara’s origin story.)

I guess my point is that this issue is perhaps not as out-of-left-field as some might think, and just because there isn’t as obvious an arc for Kara, doesn’t mean there isn’t some sharp character work at play.

(I could be WAY OFF, of course, and I’m not suggesting it’s a clear 1:1 comparison. I’d actually really love to hear King talk about this issue in particular.)

Anyways.

Here’s the final page, which I think works, because as I mentioned before, there is no easy answer/quick wrap-up to the story of Maypole:

THE ART:

I mean. How many times can I just shout ‘ART! AAAARRRRRRRRRRRTTTT!’ before it gets old?

I dunno, but I guess we’re gonna FIND OUT.

There are some panels in this issue that I just. Like ‘em! From a purely artistic standpoint! Because they’re so good!

Like, I just really love the way Kara is drawn in that top panel. Her troubled, confused expression, the colors of the fading light, the HAIR.

Evely draws the best hair. I know I’ve said this before. I don’t care. I will continue to say it, because it continues to be true.

The issue I find myself running up against when I make these posts is that I really don’t want to post whole pages, as that’s generally frowned upon (re: pirating etc.) but with something like this, you just can’t appreciate it in panel-by-panel snippets.

(Guided View on digital reading platforms is a BANE and a POX I say!)

Anyways.

LOVE the implied movement of the cape settling as Kara speeds in and stops.

And, obviously, Kara flicking the bullet away is just. A+.

And the EYES, man. LOPES’ COLORS ON THE EYES???!?! BEAUTIFUL.

Also, should note the lettering! The more rounded letters for the ‘WOOSH’ of Kara’s speed (and, earlier, the super breath) work nicely, and contrast with the angular, violent BLAMS of the gunshots.

And, I gotta say, the editor is doing a really great job of not cluttering up the artwork with all the caption boxes. Which is no small task.

(I assume the editor is placing them, as editors usually handle word balloon/caption box placement, but I suppose it could be Evely? Sometimes the artist handles it. Either way, whoever’s taking care of all the text, EXCELLENT WORK! BRAVO!)

Okay I think that’s everything.

Ah, nope, wait.

MISC.

Just a funny observation, more than anything else: Superman: Red and Blue dropped this week, and King had a story in there, “The Special” (which was very good, btw.) Both Lois and the waitress swear a lot so I’m beginning to think that this is just how King writes dialogue for any adult character who isn’t Clark. XD

This is absolutely a personal preference but when Kara was like, “And my name IS Supergirl,” I was like nooooo. I know King is trying to simplify all of the conflicting origin stories and lore but I LIKE KARA DANVERS, SIR. XD

It’s almost assuredly a cash-grab/an attempt for DC to get all the money it can out of a book they don’t have much confidence in, but I like the cardstock covers! Very classy, much Strange Adventures.

(OH my gosh, can you imagine that issue 1 cover with spot gloss???? Basically the only way you could possibly improve on it.)

Okay NOW I’m done. For real. XD NEXT TIME: Kara and Ruthye go after Krem and the Brigands!

#supergirl: woman of tomorrow #long post #dc comics #supergirl: woman of tomorrow spoilers #kara zor el #comic thoughts #comic opinions #just occurred to me I should be crediting the creative team in these things #I think thus far I've included every title page?#still #will try to be better about that going forward

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scintillating-galaxias · 4 years

Text

simpatico week day 4 - multiverse

MTMTE and cyberverse perceptor and brainstorm collide!! @simpaticoweek read it here on ao3!

Brainstorm gasped and grabbed Perceptor’s arm while pointing at mech with a familiar red, white, and blue color scheme standing amongst the curious crowd. “Perce, look!”

Perceptor looked around, alarmed. “What? What is it?”

“Next to the red mech with the white face! It’s you!”

Before Perceptor could stop him, Brainstorm hurried off towards the mech. This mech had the same white dials on his forearms, and even the same cylindrical, white scope mounted on his shoulder—a dead-ringer for an alternate-universe Perceptor. i

“Excuse me!” Brainstorm called. The mech turned around, and whoa, he wasn’t expecting the burnt-out optics. “Uh. Hello. You’re Perceptor, right?”

“I am,” said the mech. He didn’t have the same slight accent as Percy did; his voice was flatter, a bit more neutral. The scope on his shoulder lit up, shining a bright blue light on Brainstorm’s face. Definitely, a scanner of some sort, though it left a bizarre, faintly prickly sensation across Brainstorm’s plating he didn’t usually get when Ratchet or First Aid scanned him. “I don’t recognize you. I’m assuming you’re one of our visitors from the alternate universe?”

“Name’s Brainstorm, resident genius of the universe next door. How are you seeing me right now? Is it something with your scope?”

“Correct. I reformatted my scope to operate as a visual feed after I blew out my optics.”

Guess that was a universal concept, Perceptor’s redesigning or changing their scopes for some entirely different use than their original one. “You did? What happened?”

“It’s not any of your business to ask that,” he chided.

Brainstorm put up his servos apologetically. Then, realizing his error, said, “Sorry,” after a second.

The other Perceptor gave him a look of pointed disapproval so similar to his Perceptor’s, he was almost afraid he was about to start getting chewed out for his messy labeling jobs.

“Be more mindful of your questions next time,” the other Perceptor said instead. “As for your other inquiry: I could tell you made a motion in front of your chest with your hands, and you did something else just now, but details such as color and specific body parts such as your digits are lost to me when my scope is inactive.”

“Fascinating,” said a familiar voice. Perceptor, his Percy, had finally made it through the crowd and over to them. Brainstorm felt his spark lift a bit higher in its chamber as Perceptor came to a stop beside him, servo almost unconsciously winding itself into his.

The scope went on again. “You’re… Me, I presume?” the other Perceptor asked, interest coloring his voice.

“I am Perceptor, yes.”

“Fascinating,” said the other Perceptor, and Brainstorm laughed.

“Primus, you two really are the same mech.”

“Of course,” they said in tandem, and then they looked at each other. Brainstorm poorly stifled another laugh.

“Your scope,” Perceptor prompted. “You scanned Brainstorm and I and compared the information it collected to a pre-existing database before confirming you didn’t know who we were. I can only assume you made code-based modifications to it?”

“That is correct.”

“May I ask what kind of modifications? My scope gives me enhanced magnification, but nothing to that extent, so you’ll have to forgive my curiosity.”

Other-Perceptor, who had now earned the prefix ‘Other’ in Brainstorm’s processor because otherwise, it would be a nightmare to try and recount later, cleared his throat. “When in use, it can collect information such as the light values and assign them to colors using a code assigned to every paint color on record, and how the percentage of much of each color is present within the whole subject.” He didn’t gesture nearly as much as Perceptor, either, Brainstorm noted. So far, he was turning out to be far more reserved than his Perceptor. Or... No, he reminded Brainstorm of when he’d first met Perceptor on the Lost Light. Heh. Maybe he’d had an influence on his conjunx after all. “That allows me to tell apart primary, secondary, and tertiary colors, so even if two mechs have similar paint colors, the chances they have the same frame and paint jobs are extremely slim. Decals like those on Hot Rod aren’t so easily discernible. That allows me to match the color codes to virtually any mech in my database. It isn’t the most accurate system, but it is precise enough.”

“That is remarkable,” Perceptor said, reaching up to touch his own scope. “I’ve reformatted myself before, but not to that sort of extent. Have you made any other modifications?”

“Numerous, since the threat of the Quintesson’s and Megatron X were eliminated.”

“Megatron X?”

Brainstorm tuned them out as they traded stories and statistics, looking around the crowd for some mech that could possibly be him. He could see Whirl with his arm slung around another blue, singled-opticked helicopter. Both were laughing rapturously about something. In the next cycle of Brainstorm’s code, they were wrestling each other to the ground. Rodimus was excitedly chatting it up with Hot Rod, who had enthusiastically introduced himself the second the Lost Light crew had stepped out of the portal. Beside Hot Rod was Soundwave of all mechs, and even more bizarrely, he seemed to have his servo loosely held around Hot Rod’s waist. Brainstorm only lingered on it a little bit. He wasn’t one for gossip, but even he knew that was going to be the talk of the ship later. Nearby, Drift was looking spectacularly sulky, though a cheery yellow mech was making valiant attempts at cheering him up. And of course, Megatron was talking to Other-Megatron and Other-Optimus Prime, and seemed to be rather wistfully staring at the two’s shared proximity to each other.

All in all, it felt like a very successful experiment in Brainstorm’s spark. All these mechs had somehow found their alternate selves, even though there’d been no guarantee they would even exist in this universe. And still, more mechs Brainstorm didn’t even recognize who were intermingling with the Lost Light crew. Successful experiment indeed. Except for one, tiny detail.

“Where am I?” he asked, interrupting the Perceptor’s conversation. “I mean, everyone else has a double. Where’s the other me?”

Other-Perceptor tilted his head. “I don’t know. There is no record of a Brainstorm in the Autobot databases.”

“Oh.” Brainstorm tapped his pede while Perceptor lightly squeezed his servo. “What about a Genitus?”

“One moment.” Other-Perceptor’s scope dipped down slightly. Then, after a moment, it straightened back out, and he looked at Brainstorm. “There’s no record of a Genitus, either.”

“Huh.” Damn. He really hoped alternate-Brainstorm wasn’t dead. That would suck. Or maybe he had a different paint job than Brainstorm did. Other-Perceptor had said his database was based on color. Or maybe… “I was a Decepticon for a bit in my universe,” he offered. Other-Perceptor offered no reaction to this fact except for a minute twitch of his scope. “Maybe this one still is.”

“If you wish to search the Decepticon databases, I would ask Soundwave. He and Hot Rod have been in charge of integrating the two sides since the defeat of Megatron X, and though there is still much to work to be done, he is likely your best chance.”

A brilliant idea lit up Brainstorm’s face. “You should come with us!” he said, optics sparkling. “I’m great! I’m sure you’d have a blast with this universe’s Stormy.”

“I’m not sure that’s—”

“Naw, come on, it’ll be fun.”

“I wouldn’t resist him,” Perceptor advised. “He can be extremely persistent.”

Other-Perceptor sighed with a tired acceptance. “Alright, then. Let us go.”

Brainstorm whirled around on his heel and happily marched right through the crowd, cheerfully announcing, “Coming through!” approximately half a second before barrelling through a conversation. He made it through the crowd in record time and stopped promptly before Hot Rod, Soundwave, and Rodimus. All three of them immediately turn towards them, though their interest is evidently in the two Perceptor’s and not the incredibly antsy jet.

“What do you want?” rumbled Soundwave. Jeez. Did he always sound that menacing?

“Be nice,” Hot Rod scolded. “You know these guys. Perceptor, Perceptor two, and… who’re you?”

“That’s Brainstorm,” answered Rodimus over Brainstorm’s affronted noise. “He and Perceptor were the ones who figured out the whole… universe swap magic.”

“Time travel, alternate universe traveling. Twice, I might add,” Brainstorm said, primly turning over his servo as he looked down at his digits with extreme satisfaction. “No biggie.”

Rodimus rolled his optics. “Toot your own horn later,” he complained. “We get it. You’re smart. Primus knows you don’t let us forget it. Now, why’d you come over here?”

“To ask him something,” Brainstorm said, angling his wing at Soundwave, who stiffened. “I want him to look up this universe’s version of me. Your Perceptor couldn’t find me in the Autobot databases and recommended we check the Decepticon ones.”

“I dunno,” said Hot Rod, looking Brainstorm up and down with a doubtful frown. “I’ve met a lot of mechs, and I’ve never seen anyone like him…”

“You weren’t ever a Decepticon,” said Soundwave. “I am.” Rodimus, Perceptor, and Brainstorm all shared a look, but Hot Rod either didn’t care about or didn’t notice the tense. “I recognize the name. Megatron banished the Decepticon scientist Brainstorm to an off-planet site early in the war because his experiments potentially posed a greater threat to Cybertron than anything else at the time. We have not been in contact with him since.”

Brainstorm pouted. “‘Potentially posed?’ You didn’t even let me stick around to find out? Where’s the fun in that?”

Soundwave leveled him with the dryest, most unamused look Brainstorm’s ever seen from someone without a face. “You were a menace to all of Cybertronian society.”

“Nothing’s changed then,” said Perceptor. Brainstorm flicked him in the leg with one of his ankle winglets.

“Wait,” said Hot Rod. “You banished someone for ‘potentially threatening’ experiments, and you still let Shockwave run around? He tried to destroy Earth like, five times! He literally poisoned the AllSpark! He nearly killed everyone and the whole planet! What kind of logic is that?”

“Same old then,” Rodimus said drily.

Hot Rod sighed. “It’s a long story. He’s gone now, anyway. How long has Brainstorm been away? Does he even know the war’s over?”

Soundwave paused. “Uncertain. All contact with the moon he was banished to and Cybertron was cut off directly after his arrival.”

Hot Rod and Rodimus both clapped a servo over their face. Other-Perceptor shook his head, while Perceptor consolingly patted Brainstorm on the pauldron. “Unbelievable,” Brainstorm groaned. “Megatron looked at my EM field and thought it was awful enough to kick me off the planet. And then he forgot. Me! Forgot about me!”

“A slight oversight has been made,” Soundwave admitted. “I will inform Megatron and arrange a ship for him immediately. If he still functions.”

Hot Rod huffed. “Oh, even better! You left some innocent guy on the moon, and now he might be dead?”

“Should we go?” muttered Rodimus as Soundwave and Hot Rod broke out into bickering. Brainstorm nodded and slowly started backing away, and the two Perceptor’s plus Rodimus followed him.

“When can we expect an answer?” Perceptor asked Other-Perceptor once they were safely out of ear-shot.

“Soundwave is usually prompt about these things, based on my work experience with him. Megatron is… less so, I’m told. I would wager at least a couple of weeks.”

“Are we staying that long?” Brainstorm asked Rodimus.

“Is something catastrophic going to happen if we do?”

“There’s an eighty-nine point seven-five-three-four-two-four percent chance that the portal could destabilize and collapse, trapping us here until someone aboard Lost Light reopens the portal. Given that everyone who knows how to operate that portal is currently here, it would be implausible we would be able to return to our universe,” said Perceptor.

“It’ll be fine,” said Brainstorm after a stiflingly tense beat. “C’mon, I wanna go talk to Wheeljack.”

“Still can’t believe they just left me on the moon,” Brainstorm muttered. He, Perceptor, and Other-Perceptor were currently making their way to a temporary condominium in residential Iacon. It currently was housing a number of freshly displaced Cybertronians until something more suitable could be found or built for them. As Other-Perceptor had predicted, it’d taken roughly twelve days for them to be informed of Other-Brainstorm’s (whose name actually was Brainstorm, not Genitus) whereabouts. It’d then taken another two days for Other-Brainstorm to say he was ready to accept visitors, and another four to get plans in place.

“I’m sure it was nothing personal,” Perceptor was saying as they squeezed their way around a group of laughing mechs.

“I’ve never heard of this mech,” Other-Perceptor mused. “But he must have had some truly uncanny ideas if Megatron decided he was too dangerous for his tastes.”

Brainstorm hummed. “Yeah. I wonder what that poor sod discovered to wind up getting him kicked off the planet.” He gasped and stopped suddenly, servos flying to his subspace. “Scrap! I left my notes in the lab! I wanted to compare them with him!”

Perceptor made an apologetic noise but reluctantly said, “That’s probably for the best. You’d be here for years if you had your notes, and we have to make it back to the Lost Light for our reservations at Swerve’s anyway. I don’t want to try and cajole him into giving us the bar for the evening again.”

“Yeah,” Brainstorm sighed. “There’s always next time, I guess. Hey, do you think our next date could be in another universe?”

“I don’t see why not. Perhaps the energon will be different.”

“What if there isn’t even energon in that universe?”

“Hm, true. I didn’t consider that. We’ll bring our own in case that happens to be the case.”

Other-Perceptor was watching them carefully. “What is the relationship between you two?” he asked mildly. “I didn’t want to assume, but…”

“We’re conjunx endura,” Perceptor said, that especially pleased sparkle that always showed up in his optic whenever he talked about their recent unification glowing to life once again. It gave Brainstorm weird fuzzy feelings in his circuits. He’d have to investigate what precisely in his code caused that later.

“‘Conjunx?’” Other-Perceptor frowned. “I’m not familiar with the term.”

“Write that down, write that down!” Brainstorm hissed, grabbing Perceptor’s arm.

“You write it down. I’m attempting to have a conversation,” said Perceptor, brushing Brainstorm’s servo before capturing it in his own. He gave it a light squeeze, which had Brainstorm’s wings fluttering away. “Yes. Brainstorm is my conjunx. The formal term is conjunx endura. It, in an extremely oversimplified definition, means he is my significant other.”

Other-Perceptor nodded. “I see. I don’t have one such partner myself. The war and the Quintesson invasion took away most time for such matters. For most others, anyway.” Brainstorm thought of Soundwave’s servo on Hot Rod’s hip and wondered what in the hell happened to this universe for that to happen.

“But the war’s done now, isn’t it?” he said as they turned down into a plaza and started making their way toward the condominium.

“Allow me to rephrase. I’m not interested in seeking such a relationship at the moment. A new lab partner is more than sufficient. And I must admit I am curious about what exactly it is this Brainstorm created that scared Megatron of all mechs so badly.”

“Eh, that’s fair. Lab partner is still pretty alright.”

“I happen to agree with that,” said Perceptor.

“Oh, you just happen to?”

“You know what I mean.”

The three of them entered through the first set of doors and were met with a wall of buttons labeled with room numbers. Other-Perceptor unhesitantly pushed the button to Other-Brainstorm’s room. A few seconds later, a small screen flickered to life, revealing someone with a familiar orange blast mask.

“My wings look different,” Brainstorm commented as soon as the connection stabilized.

“Good thing they’re my wings and not yours,” Other-Brainstorm snipped back without missing a beat. Brainstorm barked a laugh.

“Fair enough! Can we come down?”

A loud crash! crackled through the speakers. Other-Perceptor grimaced, while Perceptor merely looked faintly resigned. Other-Brainstorm, entirely unperturbed, said, “Yeah, yeah, just watch your step when you come in. I haven’t gotten to organize yet, so the place is a tad messy.”

“Oh, dear,” murmured Perceptor as the second set of doors to the lobby slid open and the trio of scientists stepped through. “I can only hope that this universe’s Brainstorm’s idea of ‘messy’ is far more reasonable than yours.”

Brainstorm narrowed his optics. “Is this about the moldy energon crystal sample again? I feel like this is about the moldy energon crystal sample again.”

“It was there for three years, Brainstorm.”

“So I sometimes lose track of things! Big deal!”

“How did he manage that?” asked Other-Perceptor as they piled into the elevator. Were all elevators in his universe this roomy? This one could have comfortably housed a few more average-sized mechs like himself. Or maybe like, twelve Tailgate’s or Rewind’s.

Perceptor sighed. “I still haven’t quite managed to parse that one out. All I know is that three years ago, it wasn’t possible to grow mold on crystalized energon.”

Brainstorm threw up his servos, narrowly avoiding whacking Perceptor’s scope. “You’re teaming up on me!” he whined. “Okay, fine. I’ll admit it was bad.”

“That’s what I’ve been telling you.”

The elevator was a short ride to the basement, so it was only a few seconds before the doors dinged open, and the three of them spilled out into the hall.

“Which way?” asked Other-Perceptor.

At that moment, a shrill whistling began to shriek from the leftward hallway, pitching up higher and louder with every passing second until it was cut off with a loud bang accompanied by profuse swearing.

“G51 sounds like it’s that way,” Perceptor said dryly.

He’s correct, of course, and Brainstorm knocks a cheery rhythm against the door. It slid open, and in the doorway stood Other-Brainstorm. Yep. That was him, alright. There was the teal paint job, the white wings, and… a purple Decepticon sigil, branded right across his orange cockpit. Yeesh.

“I was starting to think I’d cleaned up for nothing,” Other-Brainstorm greeted.

“If this is your idea of clean, I’d hate to see what messy is,” mused Other-Perceptor as he stepped into the threshold, scope bobbing wildly as it drank in the chaotic environment. A criss-cross of thick cables and wires were taped to the ground, winding around the room to various machines lined up against the walls. Multiple experiments suspended in thin air crowded up the ceiling, ranging from maybe-guns to definitely-guns to things Brainstorm didn’t even know what to call. Datapads were scattered everywhere, tossed into open drawers, and haphazardly stacked into concerningly tall towers.

“Hardy har,” said Other-Brainstorm, crossing his arms. “Who’re you to start critiquing my workspace?”

“I am this universe’s Perceptor. I am a scientist like yourself. And my companions are an alternate version of you and I.”

Other-Brainstorm looked distinctly unimpressed. “Alternative universes? Please. That was like, a million years ago.”

“What?” squawked Brainstorm.

“You—Excuse me?” Perceptor gaped.

Other-Perceptor pushed further inside and started scanning the massive whiteboard taking up an entire wall of the apartment. “I don’t recognize any of the formulas here,” he said, somehow sounding simultaneously highly skeptical and impressed. “What are they?”

“Oh, I derived those. They describe a relationship between the mesh that constitutes the space-time continuum of multiple dimensions and any one object,” Other-Brainstorm said with a shrug.

Other-Perceptor stared at the board for a while longer. Then he turned around and said, “I can see why Megatron would perceive you as a class one threat. These could cause insurmountable amounts of devastation if they fell into the wrong hands.”

Other-Brainstorm threw up his hands. “Why does everyone keep saying that! I’m not gonna do anything!”

“Why make these, then?”

“I had to see if I could.” He paused. “And it gets boring on the moon.”

“A test, then? A game?”

“I guess? It’s not that deep, to be honest. I was just having fun.”

Other-Perceptor nodded. Then, he turned and neatly sat down in a nearby stool, chin jutted up. “You’re going to tell me everything you’ve learned,” he said calmly, “and I’m not leaving until you do.”

“Uh.” Other-Brainstorm blinked. “You sure you won’t be missed anywhere? Might take a while,” he warned.

“I might be. I don’t care.”

“...Slag. Okay. I guess I’ll start with… Well, where do you wanna start?”

“The beginning. I meant everything.”

“Well, damn,” Brainstorm murmured to Perceptor as Other-Brainstorm stared for a second before he grinned and launched into his explanations. “That was fast.”

“He might not be missed,” said Perceptor, “but we will be if we don’t leave soon.”

“Aw, c’mon, we were just getting to the fun part!”

“You can get caught up later when you come back,” Other-Perceptor said, half-distracted as Other-Brainstorm brought up a sprawling holograph of notes. Brainstorm whined a bit; he didn’t know what those equations were for either, and he was dying to know. But Perceptor was right. Rodimus’ threats to leave anyone late to take-off behind were not to be taken lightly. He’d done it before, and he would do it again.

“I’m holding you to that.” Brainstorm shimmied out of the doorway and back out into the hallway. “C’mon Percy, let’s go.”

Once they were back outside the condominium, Perceptor and Brainstorm took a bit of time to meander around the city, trying to identify anything they could. But the buildings here were in a completely different style to the ones on the Cybertron they were familiar with, and monuments and popular spots in town looked nothing at all like what either of them knew them to be. God, it was positively killing Brainstorm to have to leave so quickly. Slaughtering him. There was so much to explore still, so many more questions he had, and not enough of them had been answered to tide him over until their next visit.

“Do you think they’ll get along?” Perceptor asked as they finally began to make their way back to the Lost Light. The fuel quills were nearly at full mast, the sharp points just barely peeking out above the city skyline. They’d need to hurry.

Brainstorm glanced at him. “You don’t think they will?”

“I didn’t say that. I’m only asking because I know we didn’t exactly have what one would call an instant connection when we started working together.”

A thunderous, rumbling boom cut Brainstorm off before he could answer. Seconds later, the shockwave rolled over them, just strong enough to force them to take a step back. They whipped around, a plume of black smoke already smudging the air in the direction of the condominium.

“You know what?” Brainstorm said as the smoke rose higher and higher. “I think they’re gonna get along just fine, Percy.”

#simpaticoweek2020 #simpatico #tf #my writing #multiverse shenanigans!#the inspiration behind cbv stormy was the single thought 'lord megatron thought my vibes were rancid'#perceptor #brainstorm #maccadam

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dancing-the-hellfire-rumba · 4 years

Text

Seen ✓ - 3

Pairing: Sam x Reader Warnings: cursing, a bit of self depreciation Word Count: 2.2k Series Summary: On her way home, Y/n finds an abandoned, cracked phone on the sidewalk. Anxious about the well-being of its owner, she picks it up and texts the first contact she finds; Sam. Beta: None

Part 1 - Part 2 Masterlist

Chapter 3: for the love of god, explain this

Sam Winchester lies awake at three in the morning, under foreign, scratchy sheets, stubbornly not tearing his eyes from the cracked, ugly wallpaper on the ceiling. A lot of things are happening and his brain is going about a million miles an hour, spinning endlessly, Castiel, Dean returning from hell, the stress of the hunting life, the current case and… Y/n. Wonderful, smart, talented, funny Y/n.

It’s been a while since someone has made him excited. He keeps bumping into her in his mind, keeps finding thoughts of her lying around, eager to distract him. He catches himself wanting to text her about every stupid thing that happens in his day, much like she sometimes does. She’s been the only thing that makes his heart a little lighter, and it’s such a strange feeling, someone’s presence being this uplifting.

He was suspicious of her at first. A strange woman (at least she claims to be one, he forgets he’s never actually… seen her) asking about him, his profession, and then about… ghosts? A bit random, too specific, Sam recognizes he got defensive. But the way she spoke afterwards… he doesn’t know. His instinct tells him to trust her.

Amidst his thoughts, he doesn’t remember picking up his phone, but it’s just one of those nights, he needs someone to talk to- or rather, wants Y/n specifically. A thought he chooses not to dwell on.

are you awake? I can’t sleep.

I actually am. Lucky you.

Sam smiles. Lucky me, he thinks.

isn’t it like 4 am for you?

Tell me about it. No luck sleeping either.

happen to you a lot?

Yeah.

I happen to have anxiety induced insomnia.

Working at a bar also helps fuck up your sleeping schedule as well.

You?

i’m sorry :/

i don’t get much sleep either. something always keeps me up.

Yeah, I get that.

Where in the Great Unites States of America are you today?

hahah it’s Oregon today.

it’s the ugliest motel room i’ve ever been in.

Ooh

Do I ask about your case or is it confidential?

it’s confidential but i’ll tell you that i am investigating a bunch of strange murders.

You’re investigating serial killers?? That’s so fucking dope.

something like that yeah.

how was your day?

Oh, you know. The usual.

College assignments, a shift at the bar. I went out with a friend I hadn’t seen in a while.

I need to clean my house desperately.

I also nearly burned my kitchen down trying to cook lunch. Emmy and I ended up eating some lazy-ass spaghetti, because pasta is the only thing I can cook, apparently.

hahahah what were you making?

You’re gonna laugh if I tell you.

well now you must.

Ugh, do I?

come onnn

It was eggs, okay? I was just trying to make eggs.

AHAHAHAHAHAHAH

I TOLD YOU YOU’D LAUGH AT ME

HOW DID YOU BURN EGGS?!

LISTEN, OKAY

I NEVER SAID I WAS A GOOD COOK

HAHAHAHAH

Sam laughs over his phone, as silently as he can, so as to not wake Dean up. He turns on his other side and realizes his cheeks hurt from smiling, and it’s a feeling he’s missed.

Yeah, yeah, laugh, culinary genius. Not all of us can be perfect.

i never said i was a culinary genius

but at least i don’t go near stoves if i don’t have to.

Well, it’s not like I can afford every-day takeout (or like that shit is healthy, even if I could) and someone has to cook for my sister while she’s in school

you have siblings?

and yeah you’re right i didn’t think like that sorry.

It’s okay.

And yeah, my sister, Emily.” Emmy”

oooh i thought emmy was your friend.

Nono, it’s my sister. She’s 17.

can i ask you a personal question?

Shoot

why do you have to take care of her? are your guys’ parents not around?

you don’t have to answer if you’re not comfortable with that.

Well, it’s a bit complicated.

My parents’ marriage kind of fell apart when I was around 10. They tried to fix things by adopting a kid- Emily. For a while that worked.

When I was 16 my mom took off and dad took care of us for 2 years almost. He really dedicated himself to us.

He worked his antique shop and supported us. For two years, I didn’t see him spend a penny on himself.

But I ended up having to take care of Em when he passed. I was freshly 18, so I could take care of her as a guardian.

shit i’m so sorry.

It’s okay, honestly.

I mean, it didn’t use to be, and it was hell for a while.

But we made it.

i admire your positivity.

I try :)

i also love that you put smiley faces in your text messages.

Shouldn’t have said that, now I’ll always think about it before I do it

hahah

Sam bites his lip. What the hell is happening? They’re… flirting. Sorta. And it’s nice- better than nice. Fuck.

What about you?

you mean what’s my relationship with my parents?

Well, when you put it like that it sounds stupid. It wasn’t what I was asking either.

What I meant was, how’s your life right now. How’s the family business. You can pick which you wanna answer.

i don’t mind either honestly.

as for my parents my mom died when I was 6 months old. my dad passed away about a year and a half ago.

Jesus, I’m so sorry Sam

I don’t know what to say. It can’t have been easy. Losing a parent never is.

it wasn’t but as you said we’re trying to sort of find our footing with Dean. we’ve had our ups and downs.

Yeah I understand that.

Do you wanna talk about it?

right now not really. I mean there’s not much to say about it.

i kinda wanna forget about it. thanks though.

Alright.

So how’s the family business?

Does it feel good to be paid to be Sherlock Holmes?

crap. but we’re doing our best.

for the record i don’t get paid nearly enough for the shit i have to do.

Hahaha, hang in there.

Dean still refuses to come get his phone?

yeah. he says you can keep it.

Tell him to take care of his devices from now on, this one was battered beyond recognition.

duly noted.

The conversation continued until well after the sun rose. Sam had officially accepted this night to be sleepless, and Y/n was good company. Somehow she took his mind off of everything that was bugging him, made him, if momentarily, forget about it, and he truly loved that about her. The back and forth tended to flow easily between them, and he couldn’t get enough of the chemistry he had with this practical stranger.

Sleepless or not, this night was a good one, after she entered the picture.

The glow on her skin is blue-ish and soft, combatting the one from the fairy lights above them. Laptop absolutely not low in volume, couch dipping under two bodies, slumped together, legs leaning against one another, soft flannel pants and droopy eyes. Emily’s hair is out of its usual half-up hairstyle, exploding with volume and bright, firey color, flowing onto the back of the couch.

Jon Snow is yelling on the screen, and Y/n is completely ignoring him, constantly checking her inactive phone and the way the screen doesn’t light up with Sam’s name. Every time she feels disappointed, she tries to quell the relentless thoughts of the possibility of him being completely over her.

Damn it.

“Do you have a boyfriend or a girlfriend I’m not aware of or something?” Emily mutters dryly, half-hearted but gentle teasing. Y/n sputters.

“Huh?”

“’Cause you keep checking your phone, and as far as I know you don’t have any friends.”

“HEY,” deeply offended, Y/n places her hand over her heart, glaring at her sister. “Excuse you!” she exclaims, “Connor? Ashley? Lydia?”

“Yeah, a neighbor and two college students that you haven’t talked to in like, what, two weeks? What a social butterfly.”

“Okay first off,” Y/n ignores the screaming and fighting on the screen and shifts to look at her sister. “Stop tracking my socializing.” Em scoffs.

“C’mon, bear, spill.” Bottom lip pouted. She pauses the episode, turning to face her older sister. “Who are they and when can I meet them?” A devilish smile, teasing like only a younger sister can, curling the right corner of her lip.

“He’s not my boyf-“

“AHA! So there is someone! I knew it!”

“I’ve known him for like- what, three weeks? Nothing is going on! I barely know the guy!” Y/n fiddles with her hair and huffs, holding back a smile.

“Where’d you meet him? Is he hot? What’s he like?!” Poking her sister’s thigh continuously, she grins wide, excited. “C’mon, you’re like, no fun.”

“The thing is… I didn’t. Meet him, I mean.” Eyebrows furrow.

“Uh…” Emily purses her lips. “I’m … not following.”

It takes all of five minutes for Y/n to explain to her sister all about her crazy adventure, the lost phone, the brother, Sam. The girls munch on leftover garlic spaghetti, talking about the stranger on the other side of Y/n’s screen.

“He’s just… different? I don’t know- I just, I’m intrigued I guess. He’s mysterious and hilarious. The type of guy we’d hang out with. Why pass it up?”

“Just hang out?” Emily wiggles her eyebrows. Y/n shoves her.

“It’s really not like that.”

“I don’t know, Y/n, he doesn’t necessarily sound just friendly to me.” Y/n won’t lie and say she hasn’t thought about it. She’s a romantic after all, and what a wonderful, movie-like love story would it be for them to fall in love and march into the sunset?

But she recognizes this is the romantic side of her picking up speed on a subject that definitely isn’t for her to decide alone. There’s a second participant in all of this, and he needs to do more than half the work by liking her. She knows it’s no easy feat. A bitter dab of paint dissolves in her chest, because why would he like her? She’s nothing quite special. She’s just a bartender, a college student, a boring, normal girl, painfully mundane, painfully boring. He’s brilliant, kind and sweet, a private investigator, he travels all the time, he’s the most interesting guy she’s ever met for crying out loud. Why would he ever give her a chance?

“I doubt it, Em,” is what Y/n decides to say, because there’s no way she can explain exactly what she’s thinking.

“No, no, you’re doing that thing again.” A hum in question falls from the older Andrews’ lips. “The thing where you put yourself down for bullshit reasons. He’d be lucky to have you.” Y/n wants to roll her eyes. “Hey,” a snap of Emily’s fingers in front of Y/n’s face to catch her attention. “I will literally slap you. You’re smart, funny, kind. He’d be fucking lucky to have you, and if you don’t believe it, I’m gonna beat some sense into you. Stop putting my sister down.” Y/n doesn’t have anything good to say to that, so instead she lets out a huffed breath of a laugh and sits back on the couch.

“Now,” Emily leans over her own crossed legs and grabs her phone from the rickety coffee table. “Did you Google him?”

“Why the heck would I Google him?”

“It’s the 21st century, Y/n, gosh. Are you at all familiar with internet stalking?” Y/n watched pebbled coffee brown eyes get illuminated by the phone screen, freckles nowhere near as bright as they can be, because she hasn’t gone out into the sunlight today. Emily is gorgeous. Y/n is sometimes jealous, but also genuinely admires her younger sister. “What’s his name?”

“Sam Winchester.”

There’s typing, and then silence.

“Y/n…” And the warning tone on the younger one’s voice completely throws her off.

“What? What is it?” A phone screen is thrust in her face.

Mail fraud, credit card fraud, grave desecration, armed robbery, kidnapping, three counts of first-degree murder, and breaking and entering, she reads. Winchester brothers Sam and Dean, disappeared, considered dead.

“What the fuck,” she mutters under her breath, completely horrified at the chance that this is real and the universe isn’t playing some comic joke on her, creating another pair of Winchester brothers called Sam and Dean who, instead of chasing murderers, are the murderers.

She scrolls lower and sure enough, there they are. Mug shots, but more specifically, the guy from the dating app, smouldering cheekily into the camera –a real blue steel-, holding a police station name on a black plaque, sitting at close to six feet and two. Then the younger one, less joyful and sassy, more serious and puppy-eyed. Sam. Close to what was described to her, it’s all there. Pointy nose, sharp jawline, curly brown hair with a growing, swoopy fringe, pulled behind his ears. It’s him. There’s no way, the coincidences are too many.

“Bear…” Emily stares at Y/n’s shocked face, gaze empty and out of it. “What the hell have you gotten yourself into?”

Immediately, Y/n grabs her phone.

Sam

His reply is instantaneous.

hey y/n

i was just thinking about you

what’s up?

Please for the love of God.

Explain this.

She sends him the mugshot, photographed from the screen of her sister’s phone.

shit.

Part 4

A/N: Tell me what you thought? How the hell does he even explain this?

I realized I haven’t been tagging my forever taglist like a MORON, so just, sorry, I’ll start now.

Forevers: @deanxfuckingadorablexwinchester @deanssweetheart23 @nostalgic-uncertainty @mogaruke @superseejay721517 @lady-hawkguy @thosefeelsarereal @superwholockmarauder @justiceiswater @petra-arkanian-1497 @heyitscam99 @danijimenezv @aj-reuth @unicornblood4ever @mystriee @sadist-fangirl23 @asguardiansoftheavengers @superrandomnatural @altosaxplayer098 @winter-moons @hunterswearingplaid @novaddictx @choosemyname @live-like-a-girl @thisismysecrethappyplace @bowtomytenderaddiction @elara98azalea @lemondropirwin @emmagolden4118 @glitchcypher @calaofnoldor @paradoxical-sleep @narynechan @canwenotdothis @suicidepanda07

Sam Taglist

@kymberlytorres @theboykingsamwinchester @depressed-moose-78 @andi-mendes-barnes @captainmarvelcorps @nerd-in-a-galaxy-far-away @nellachain

Seen Taglist @shutupiminlooove @sammysgirl1997 @kymberlytorres @bambi95-blog @demonic-meatball @thekarliwinchester @littlekay15 @li-m-ii @thinspo-isuppose @carryonmywaywarddemigodwitch @ellen-reincarnated1967 @moonlitskinwalker @marichromatic @illuminatus42 @lazy-author @mirandaaustin93 @hauntedsiriel @pilaxia @devilgirlsarah @nobodys-baby-now @captiveties @calamitychaos @midiocris @wordswillscream @burningforsam @aiofheavenandhell

#sam x reader #sam winchester #sam winchester x reader #sam #spn fanfiction #supernatural #spn #sam x reader fluff #sam fluff #sam x reader angst #sam angst #spn fluff #spn angst #sam winchester fluff #seen #seen 3

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