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starqueensthings · 1 month

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Surprise self-rec time! Pick 3 of your favorite things you’ve written and share them here, then put this in the inbox (anonymously or not) of your fellow writers to spread the positivity and help celebrate already written fics 💞

First of all, when the heck did my anon function turn on 😆 I genuinely thought I’d had that shit turned off! Apparently not!

Second, I heckin love when these self rec chains go around. There is little more beautiful in this world than watching a creator gush about their work when given the platform to do so… something they’re so proud of… something that brought them so much joy, all they want to do is share it with the people they love.

In true Holly fashion, I am going to be long winded about this, so please accept a read more as to not clutter up your feed.

1. Colder Weather - A 3-part post-stasis/Pirate Kix x fem!reader ficlet that promises to punch you right in the heart. This is probably the most emotional thing I’ve ever written, and while I know it’s not for everyone… boy am I ever proud of it.

2. Dork Love - A 4-part Tech x GN!reader ficlet that was supposed to only be one, but pulled a Miley Cyrus and couldn’t be tamed. It’s a mostly lighthearted little story about hard work, altruism, navigating a sudden and unexpected crush, and how one’s perception is not always reality. Because the fandom is extremely protective about Tech and his characterization in fanon extensions of canon, I’m sure this won’t be for everyone either… but writing something that read ND!Tech x ND!Reader was important to me.

3. The Only Exception - A fem!OC x Captain Howzer Longfic. I started writing it what feels like a lifetime ago, and I swore to my distant ancestors that it would never see anyone’s eyes but my own… That plan changed when I met some very supportive, OC-loving friends that encouraged me to share it with the world, and I’ve since been slowly tweaking it chapter by chapter to ensure my passive verbs and run-on sentences are brought to a level that’s readable for others hahaha it’s a very slow work in progress, but it’s the most throughout, detailed work I’ve ever funnelled energy into, and I’ll forever cherish June and her experiences learning and growing. (Not a self insert, though I wish it was. June is more bad ass than I could ever hope to be, though she has no clue.)

**snippets below the cut**

1. Colder Weather - Part One

Those optimistic moments often saw you rambling, thoughts slipping easily from mind to mouth in a desperate attempt to keep him connected to you; resolute in keeping him both physically and mentally present; urgently trying to protect him from the monster on his shoulders long enough for him to realize that everything he could ever want was lying peacefully beside him. Periodically, if your chosen topic was one he found particularly amusing, his eyes would crinkle under the embrace of a smile, and — if the universe deemed you worthy that night — a hoarse chuckle would pour from his lips. Despite your continued pleas to the stars, it was a sound that graced your ears with a tragic infrequence, yet the way its radiance illuminated your soul had you shamelessly begging the universe that it continue to spill from his lips for all eternity.

But despite the prophetic bond that kept him returning to your side, only once had the bliss of your union softened his guard enough to let something… slip. Only once had he mentioned a brother: Jesse, a man spoken of thoughtlessly as Kix snickered his way through the recollection of a frantic speeder ride across the plains of Saleucami. But the music of his laughter utterly vanished upon voicing the name that he never meant to speak, the silence that filled its wake so polluted in unexpressed grief, that even the hushed sounds of your breath felt inappropriate, and despite having watched the light leave his eyes so often in the past, you’d never seen it replaced with a darkness as deep and as sorrowful as then.

“Tell me about him,” you probed instantly, hopeful that the delicate touch of your hand on his shoulder would be enough to ground him there in the bed with you; hopeful that the soft caress of your fingers would prevent him from conceding to his anguish, tossing the sheet aside and leaving you with nothing but the familiar sight of his retreating back and the bittersweet smell of him lingering on your pillow.

2. Dork Love - Part Four.

“An apology is not required,” Tech spoke instead. “It would appear that I jumped to an inaccurate conclusion upon arriving here to find you missing. It was a most uncharacteristic overreaction, and one from which I now-suffer a great compunction.”

“Compunction?” you repeated, brows furrowing at the implications of his confession as you reached to pull the coils from his shoulder. “Why?”

Tech hesitated for only a breath, watching your nimble fingers blanch under the weight of the wire as you took it from him. “Well… several years of advanced training and exposure therapy have rendered me effectively inured to a multitude of scenarios that others may deem distressing,” he divulged as something near concern wiped the smile from your lips. “Yet, I failed to maintain control of my emotions in the face of your disappearance. I became largely inexorable, making objectively impetuous and questionable decisions.”

“Tech,” you uttered in little more than a consoling whisper, his stomach lurching as your free hand collected his from somewhere near his hip, those slightly chilled fingers weaving their way in between his before the soft, consoling brush of your thumb nearly weakened his knees. “There is nothing to regret. Worrying about someone is nothing to be ashamed of, and arguably even less so if that person is someone you care greatly about. In fact, an initial surge of panic followed by attempts to verify their safety is likely the expected psychological response to such concerns. You walked into what looked like a very foreboding situation and had no data to disprove your suspected theory.”

“I suppose that is correct,” Tech shrugged, dropping his gaze to the toe of his oily boot, “Though it has been several years since I last studied the sympathetic subsection of the autonomic nervous system in response to traumatic stimuli.”

“Sounds like an interesting read,” you mumbled through a sarcastic smile that prompted the return of his gaze. “Tell me– if the same situation presented itself again, would you not react similarly? Would you not do everything within your power to make sure that someone was okay while everything around you was telling you they’re not?”

“Of course I would.”

“Then that’s that,” you answered simply. “There’s no reason to regret your actions, just like I don't suffer any contempt for getting myself stuck on Ryloth. Making the trip there was the best and potentially only solution based on the information available to me at the time. Things went awry… and that’s okay, because we should always do what our gut is telling us to do when it comes to things and people that we care greatly about.”

And there it was: that intemerate benevolence that he wholly adored about you, reemerging to knock him over the head with a validation that he’d never experienced before… and the subsequent moment, as his eyes locked on yours and his grip on your hand tightened, he felt truly seen as himself. Not Tech the highly-skilled soldier… not Tech the ingenious mechanic responsible for keeping the GAR’s most elite squad in the air… not Tech the pilot who loved his datapad above all else and never slept. You saw Tech… accepting and welcoming him as he is; validating his infrequent displays of vulnerability as if humanity was something he could and should experience first hand without fear of persecution or judgement.

“Oh, and don’t think I didn’t catch that,” you added, brow shifting into a devious arch as a playful smirk tugged at your lips.

“Catch what, exactly?”

“The oxymoron you dropped in there: ‘found you missing’. Someone can’t be found and missing, hun. But keep dropping them– I’ll catch ‘em every time.”

3. The Only Exception - Chapter Two.

‘He’s just a soldier,’ she reminded herself with a snort of self-directed derision, desperately trying to extract her password from the depths of her distracted brain.

And he was. There was nothing overtly different or unusual about CT–5863 in relation to the hundred-or-so other clones that had passed in and out of her care since the war began. Quite frankly, there couldn’t be anything different about him, it was genetically impossible. So why had one look from this set of honeyed eyes seen her stomach careening into the next dimension and her nerves prickling as if every shift of his gaze left a trail atop her skin?

Thrice she tried and failed to enter her secure information into that software, yet its repeated beeps toward the inevitable system lock-out fell on entirely deaf ears, and it wasn’t until the screen strobed that she’d near-reached the maximum login attempts did some glimmer of awareness surge back to her.

“I’m Dr. Kiore,” June told him, attempting to banish that myriad of improper thoughts by corralling every cooperating neuron into entering her password, and the breath she’d unintentionally held in her lungs was granted their escape atop a sigh of relief as that familiar landing screen emerged in front of her. “What’s your name?”

“CT–58—”

“No, Captain, your name.”

“My name?” A puzzled pause preceded his answer, that brief second of hesitation having failed to lessen any of the obvious confusion behind those two words, and the notion that she may have to formally explain such a simple concept was the first to pull a smile to June’s lips.

But, “Howzer.” He recovered quickly, offering his name in the same tone he’d used upon hearing her tap on the door, and the small creases now wreathing those twinkling eyes as they narrowed in something close to suspicion entirely laid bare his continued bewilderment at her behaviour.

“Howzer,” she repeated, offering him a casual smile as she swiped her finger across the monitor and entered the information next to his designation number. “It’s nice to meet you.”

A moment’s innocent silence fell between them as she typed, masterfully toggling between different pages of his medical chart and familiarizing herself with the details of his treatment history. For an active soldier, particularly one that appeared as if he’d spent several respite-free rotations laying in the foreign dirt of a distant planet, his chart was remarkably vacant, the only few noted injuries being quickly treated in the field and recorded somewhat haphazardly by the trio of different medics who had seen him.

“I– I think that might be the first time a civilian’s asked me that,” he contemplated under his breath, eyes unfocussing as he rubbed that dirty palm across the stubble on his chin

“Yeah, well… they were supposed to ask downstairs,” June scoffed, the grumble swaddling her tone readily exposing the disdain for the repeated shortcomings of her colleagues. “I’ve asked them four billion times to try and remember, but of course no one listens to the youngest.”

While his lungs expanded to utter what was undoubtedly going to be another humorous quip, the sentiment was stolen off his tongue by a sudden and salient cringe of discomfort. In that otherwise banal motion of sitting up straight, hand reaching upward to thoughtlessly push those dark waves further back from his forehead, a spasm of pain quickly froze his actions, that sharp jaw quickly clenching behind olive cheeks as a muted grunt rumbled in his chest.

#starqueensasks #self recs are always fun #thank you to whoever left this in my asks!#starqueenswrittenworks

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sage-nebula · 7 years

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Five questions you want to answer but haven't been asked yet! ;D

99.) Pokemon Cards, Games, or Show?

Despite my unyielding, unending, unstoppable love for Alan, the games will always come first for me. (Of course, he’s had a shout-out in the games as well, so … ;D) The games are the entire reason why I was interested in watching the anime in the first place. The games are the reason why I was interested in the cards. As much as I love the anime and have a lot of opinions about it, the games always have and always will come first for me. The games are where it all started. Without the games, we wouldn’t have any of what we currently have. Without the games, the anime wouldn’t exist. Without the games, the hundreds of manga series (because there are a lot, which is why I get so aggravated when people talk about “the” manga when referencing PokéSpe) wouldn’t exist. The games started it all, the games are the source of everything. The games will always come first.

After the games, though, I do pick the anime. And then the cards, I guess, but I haven’t cared about the TCG in a very long time, outside of still being salty af that my biological mother threw out my card album (that had, among other things, my holographic first edition charizard card, and sentimental value aside, those still sell for upwards of $300 on eBay; I wouldn’t sell it, but damn, she threw away something so valuable out of pure spite and stupidity, I just). So for me it goes games, anime, and … everything else, haha.

98.) Pokemon main series games, pokemon ranger games, or pokemon mystery dungeon games?

The main series games come first, obviously, for all the reasons started above and more. I love the main series games. While of course I have some criticisms about some of them, and while of course there are some things that could be done better, I still adore the main series games and very likely always will. I love most everything about them and I can’t foresee that changing.

But that said, I also really, really, really love the Ranger games! Or at least, I really loved the one I played, which was Guardian Signs. The gameplay was a lot of fun, I love the concept of the Rangers and the Ranger Union, and how they differ from ordinary trainers but still do so much good in their own unique way. I love how they “capture” pokémon by not actually capturing them, per se, but rather by using their capture stylers to convey their feelings to the pokémon, calming them or soothing them and then asking for help from them. I also love the instances where this is done when rescuing pokémon from the poachers / villains. They send pokémon out to attack you, as any trainer would, but instead of battling and knocking their pokémon out, you use the capture styler to soothe and convince that pokémon to stop attacking. You, in essence, help that pokémon see that they don’t have to battle for this awful person! To be honest, having a device that can allow you to communicate with a trainer’s pokémon like that could be used for nefarious purposes, if put into the wrong hands, but capture styling is not as easy as it looks and I imagine that Rangers have to undergo tests and rigorous training to be certified. Regardless, I loved all these aspects, as well as the overall atmosphere, the story (even the silly bits!), and the characters … and I adored the Sign aspect of it, how you could draw, well, guardian signs with your styler in order to summon legendary pokémon. Did you know, Pokémon Ranger: Guardian Signs had Soaring long before ORAS! And you didn’t have to Soar on one of the Latis (though of course you could, and why wouldn’t you?), but rather, you could Soar on any flying-type pokémon you had bonded with during a “capture” session. It was great. And you could rampage across the countryside on Raikou, or Entei, or Suicune, just by summoning them with your styler. You didn’t own them, of course, they weren’t captured in a little monster ball, but you could summon them if you needed them for aid just by drawing their sign in the sky. (Or, er, if you wanted to get across Oblivia faster, but … >_>;; ) It was great, and that’s the kind of legendary pokémon partnership I’m okay with, rather than the utter nonsense of capturing one to use for battle.

Anyway, I really want to replay this game, and I might do that soon, but I really loved it! I wish we could get a new Ranger game sometime this century, but alas … T___T

(Meanwhile, I don’t see the appeal of the Mystery Dungeon games. At all. I never have. I tried to play the first one, I really did, but I was so bored I completely forgot I owned it after a little while. I’m glad people enjoy them, more power to them, but they’re not for me, and I wish we could chill out on getting new Mystery Dungeons to instead get at least one new Ranger game instead, but alas.)

97.) Gym Leader, Elite Four, or Champion?

I’m not entirely sure what this one is asking, if it’s asking which one I’d personally want to be, or which position I value more highly, or what. But either way, I guess my answer is Champion … but in the way I see it, rather than the way I think most people interpret it.

In all my years in this fandom / way of life, I’ve seen most people interpret “Champion” as simply “strongest trainer, gets lots of accolades, gets to sit on a throne and be cool all day”. And I can’t blame people for having that interpretation, because—in an effort to make this series accessible to kids, which is not something I am faulting—Pokémon has not delved very deeply into politics. Again, just to make it extra clear, that’s understandable; kids aren’t here to play a game that dives deep into policy and procedure, even though Gen V really toed that line and confirmed a lot of the beliefs and headcanons I already had, even without explicitly saying so. But either way, I refuse to buy into the idea that the Champion is just there to be strong and take challenges. A Champion is more than that. A Champion needs to be more than that. Setting aside that this world has to at least try to have some form of functioning government in some way, if someone is going to hold the position of Champion—if they are going to be the ones that people and pokémon look to in times of crisis—then they need to earn that. In my view, a Champion is someone who not only handles all the policy and procedure that comes across their desk as it comes across their desk (fulfilling the executive branch, as well as tapping into legislative and judicial when the time calls for it), but they’re also a protector. They’re the very tip of the spear that is used to protect their region and all of those within it. In How to Train Your Dragon 2, Hiccup says, “The alpha protects them all,” and that’s the Champion, in my eyes. If the Champion is the strongest trainer in the region—and that’s something that all Pokémon media seems to agree on—then it is the Champion’s duty—their obligation and responsibility—to use that strength that they have to protect all of those within their region who may not be able to protect themselves. Regardless of anything, regardless of the danger or crisis, regardless of whether the people and pokémon in that region love them or hate them, they have to protect them, it’s their job. “It’s not about what they deserve. It’s about what you believe,” Diana says in Wonder Woman, and that, too. That’s absolutely true of the Champion. The Champion, as the strongest there is, is the one who must put themselves between their region and any oncoming danger. They need to be the ones looking out for the people and pokémon. They need to be the ones fighting for them, both in terms of literal fights (battles) and metaphorical ones (legislation, politics, et cetera). That’s their duty, first and foremost, before anything else. They have to be ready, and willing, and able to do it.

So to try and sum this ramble up, in my eyes, being the Champion is completely empty, meaningless, and worthy of scorn of all it amounts to is praise for being The Very Best™ and adoration from fans. That’s not what it should be about. If the only point to being Champion is to sit on a throne and look pretty, then I’ll pass, thanks. Being the Champion should be about being the people’s and pokémon’s champion. It should mean protecting those who can’t protect themselves. It should mean fighting for those who can’t fight for themselves. It should mean standing up, saying “no” when someone threatens innocent lives, and doing what’s right even when everyone else just runs away. (Thanks for letting me paraphrase you, Rose Tyler.) It should mean taking that skill and that strength you have and putting it toward what’s right, even and especially when it’s difficult, even and especially when you might not get thanks or recognition afterward.

Being Champion is not about accolades. It’s work. It’s incredibly difficult work, available only to a select few, but that’s what makes it so important and meaningful. That’s why I hold that position in such esteem, and also why I’m so selective about which characters I think could potentially do it, and do it well. It’s not just winning badges and tournaments. It’s so much more than that. So, so much more.

84.) Drought, Drizzle, Sand Stream, or Snow Warning?

And now for a shorter, less intense answer—Drought! Specifically, the Drought ability on my ‘Zard Y, which I then use to immediately Solar Beam any foolish water-types that thought they could take my dragon down. ♥

76.) Reshiram, Zekrom, or Kyurem?

Reshiram! In pretty much every single way, haha. Superior typing (dragon/fire), superior design, and I also prefer what Reshiram stands for (truth) over the others. Reshiram is right alongside Victini in terms of favorite Gen V legendaries. ♥

#pokemon choice meme #ryttu3k #if anyone ever wondered why Alan is such an obvious fit for Champion in my eyes #then reading this post is probably illuminating hahaha

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wikiangela-fanfics · 3 years

Text

"How long will you stay?" - Sambucky

Part 3 to "You should smile more"

This took a looong while to write lmao

And it turned into a fucking long fic too hahaha (8k words, wow)

Idk, I actually like this one 😊

and again, thank you SO SO SO much to @tasteslikestrawbebbies for beta-reading ♥♥♥ really wouldn't be able to post it without you haha

Ao3

Part 1, Part 2

Enjoy ♥

***

Soon, they went out and Sam was relieved to not be alone with Bucky.. He still wanted him as close as possible, and he might have been walking way too close to him, their shoulders brushing. He desperately wanted to kiss Bucky, too. He really felt like he was getting addicted to those lips after just three kisses. He needed it. Fortunately, they were around people, so he was able to stop himself. He wasn’t that far gone yet.

They took a stroll around the neighbourhood, and went to the docks, meeting people everywhere. Bucky turned on his charm and everyone seemed to take to him. It seemed so natural, but at the same time it was bizarre. Sam was amazed. He’s known Bucky for a few years now, and he would never imagine him being so… charismatic. He knew stories about young Sergeant Barnes, from before he became the Winter Soldier, he heard how Bucky used to be. But to actually see it, it was odd. But also really nice, to get to see and know this side of him. He looked so… at peace. Sam has never seen him like that before he came to visit. It seemed that his little town might just be the place for Bucky to settle in. Sam found that he would really like that.

So yeah, people were nice, as Sam had told Bucky they were, and no one cared about his past or his metal arm. All that mattered was that Bucky was polite and friendly, and so fucking charming. Sam couldn’t stop staring at him, and he was pretty sure there was a soft smile on his face, and he wouldn’t be surprised if his eyes turned into freaking hearts. And people were smiling at him as if they could see it, which, yeah, he didn’t even bother trying to hide it.

Other than introducing Bucky to the people they were meeting, he took Bucky all around the town. He showed him all the places he used to hang out at, all the places that had some history and stories Sam could tell Bucky… and Bucky seemed to really enjoy listening to him. Of course he wouldn’t be himself if he didn’t tease Sam the whole time, but Sam had a nice time with him.

With that and everyone stopping them for a short conversation, which sometimes lasted so long Sam had to make up excuses for why they really had to go, it was already early afternoon when they were on their way back. They were walking, because nothing was actually that far, and it’s not like they were in a hurry. Sam actually really enjoyed just being in Bucky’s company.

“So how do you like the town?” Sam asked, glancing over at Bucky. And again he was struck by how gorgeous that man was. His hair was a bit messy from the wind, he was looking ahead, so Sam could only see his side profile, the sun illuminating it, making his perfect face look even better, somehow. His expression was calm and almost blissful.

“It’s great.” Bucky smiled, looking briefly at Sam. “I really like it here.” he added almost shyly. Which was a new look on him. “The town is beautiful, the people are nice… and spending time with you isn’t the worst.” his voice was quieter now, as if he didn’t really want to admit that. Sam chuckled and purposefully bumped his shoulder into Bucky’s.

“Thanks. You’re not a horrible company either.” he responded, earning a beautiful grin from Bucky. And then he tripped and almost fell, which made him realize that he’s been staring at Bucky non-stop for the past couple of minutes. He cleared his throat, averting his gaze and looking back at the road ahead. He hoped Bucky didn’t see him almost tripping, but he wasn’t looking at him anymore so he wouldn’t know what his expression was. “So you like it here.” Sam repeated Bucky’s words. Buck hummed in confirmation. “Then, uh, how long do you think you’ll stay?” he dared a small sideways glance at him.

“I promised-” Bucky started, but Sam interrupted him.

“No, I know, I know. I just mean.” he sighed, cursing himself for starting the topic. “Let’s say I wouldn’t want you to go. Wouldn’t tell you to leave.” because he’d never do that. He wanted Bucky around as long as possible. “How long do you think you’d wanna stay?” he was looking at his feet now. He didn’t see Bucky, who was quiet, so he was worried about what the answer might be. And then he had a ridiculous thought - what if Bucky didn’t want to be there at all and came just because he promised? Which was just insane, he had just told Sam he liked to be there.

“As long as you want me here.” Bucky replied finally. Sam looked at him again. Bucky seemed and sounded confident in his words. He was still looking ahead, but there was a fond smile on his lips. “However long that might be.” he turned his head and their eyes met. Sam couldn’t contain the wide, happy smile that he felt tugging at his lips. Bucky’s smile widened as well in response. He reached out and squeezed Sam’s hand for a second before letting go and looking ahead again. They fell into a comfortable silence.

It was what Bucky said before. The same words. But Sam knew they had different implications here. Despite there being just two sentences, there was much more said between them at that moment. Sam believed he understood Bucky perfectly, and if not, well, then he was an idiot with way too high hopes. But from what he got out of it, he knew that Bucky wanted to stay. He wanted to be there, maybe permanently. In this town, in Sam’s life. He was happy here, that much Sam could see just by looking at Buck. And if Sam never told him to go, he would just stay. Forever. And Sam was down with that. He would love that. He wanted Bucky around for the rest of his life… and that thought was scary. And it led to: oh my God, I think I love him. Which was even scarier. They kissed three times, they were going on a date, Bucky was making jokes and innuendos about them having sex, and yet Sam still wasn’t sure where they stood. Because nothing with Bucky was easy, and it never would be. But he was alright with that. They needed to talk, but they would get to that. Maybe by then Sam would stop freaking out about the fact that he’s in love with James Bucky Barnes, the guy he had sworn he didn’t wanna see after the whole thing with Karli and the Flag Smashers was over. Separate long vacations. Yeah, right. Now he never wanted them to be apart again. How that happened, he had no idea, but here they were.

He looked at Bucky again and smiled. He didn’t need to know how it happened, even if it was the most insane thing that could’ve happened to him, and that includes all the robots and aliens they fought, and even being snapped out of existence for five years. All he needed was Bucky, and he was sure now that he would always be there.

“Gotta find something to do, though.” Bucky broke the silence after a while. “Can’t go around the town and do nothing every day.”

“We have time to figure it out.” Sam said without thinking.

"We, huh?" Bucky smirked, glancing at Sam. When their eyes met, his smirk turned into a wide grin. We could be understood as yeah, me too, can’t save the world every day, but he did not mean it in that way, not entirely. He meant me too, but also, we’ll figure it out together because you’re staying with me and I love you. And he knew Bucky got that, maybe without that last part, that was just… it was like once he thought about it and realized it, he couldn’t stop thinking about it. It was repeating in his head and he felt like a giddy, lovesick teenager. He got it bad.

“Shut up.” Sam rolled his eyes, shoving Bucky lightly. He couldn’t help but grin back. His hand itched to grab Bucky’s, but he didn’t think they were there yet. So he kept his hands to himself, changing the topic and conversing with Bucky for the rest of the way.

***

They ended up going to the docks again and hanging out with some people there, and helping with some stuff. Bucky even ended up lending a hand with moving some heavy things. While Sam watched with a huge grin on his face, because Bucky was beautiful, and when he was in a t-shirt, showing off his strength, picking up such weights easily as if it was nothing… that was doing it for Sam.

And he knew he was being really obvious, as he was getting knowing looks and smirks from people around him, who have known him forever, but he didn’t care. He meant it when he said that those people were always welcoming and accepting. It was his favorite place in the world. And it just got even better, with Bucky staying for an indefinite period of time. He just couldn’t help smiling at the thought. And it was on his mind a lot.

“You’re really gone on that boy, huh?” said Mrs. Harris, one of his neighbors, who was sitting next to him at the moment. There was a fond smile on her face. “You’ve been swooning over him since he came here the first time.” she observed, obviously having seen them together before, probably when they were working on the boat.

Sam just blushed and rolled his eyes, but he couldn’t stop smiling. Then he chuckled lightly. “Yeah, I think I am.” he said with a sigh. If Bucky’s super hearing could pick it up from where he was, Sam didn’t care. He would be glad, actually, because that meant he didn’t have to say it to Bucky’s face, at least for now.

They talked some more, then Bucky joined them, and they just sat there for a while, chatting and hearing all the neighbors tell Bucky stories about the town. But then it got late. And they had a date.

“C’mon, old man.” he said, clapping Bucky on the leg, as he was getting up. Bucky just looked at him in confusion. “We have a thing, remember?”

“Right.” a wide smile showed up on his face. “Well, we gotta go. It was nice talking to you all.” Bucky said, as he also got up, smiling charmingly at their company.

As they were walking back, Sam could feel Bucky staring at him. He wasn’t gonna comment on that this time, remembering how he was the one staring at Bucky before, which he obviously had to notice.

“What?” he asked finally, as they were getting close to the house. Sam wanted to get cleaned up after the day and maybe look kinda nice, even if they were just going to the local bar for drinks and something to eat.

“You sure you wanna go on a date with me?” Bucky asked, a bit shyly. Sam looked at him with a frown. “Tonight?”

“Why wouldn’t I? You don’t wanna go? ‘Cause we don’t have to.” he added quickly, not wanting to seem pushy. Though, to be fair, Bucky did agree. Making inappropriate jokes that made Sam’s brain stop working while he was at it.

“Of course I wanna.” Bucky rolled his eyes. “I just mean, we spent the whole day together. I would get it if you were fed up with me.” he chuckled.

“I’m always fed up with you.” was Sam’s automatic response. “I just… you might be the most annoying person I’ve ever met, and yet I still wanna hang out with you.” he shrugged. Bucky just hummed in acknowledgment. “But we can just stay at home and watch a movie or something. If you want.” he added, thinking that maybe Bucky just didn’t wanna go out, since he clearly stated that he did want to go on a date. Which still sounded ridiculous. Sam and Bucky going on a date. Insane. But then again, so was them kissing and Sam being in love with Bucky.

“Sam.” he didn’t have to look to know that Bucky rolled his eyes. “I wanna do whatever you wanna do.” that was interesting, because Bucky explicitly said that they’re not gonna do what Sam wants to do tonight, not on the first date or whatever. But Sam wasn’t about to say that, he didn’t want to seem desperate. Although he had a feeling Bucky might know what he was thinking anyway. Thankfully, he didn’t say anything either, but there was a smirk on his face, when Sam glanced at him.

“Then we’re gonna go for a drink.” Sam decided. He was surprised to find that he was actually looking forward to that. To have some sense of normalcy after all he’s been through the last couple of years. Of course by normalcy he meant going out for drinks with a person he was attracted to and had feelings for. That person being Bucky was still a huge shock, but who was he to question it? The heart wants what it wants. And his traitorous heart apparently wanted Bucky.

“Okay.” Bucky said, bumping his shoulder into Sam’s. While doing that, the back of his hand touched Sam’s and he has never wanted to hold someone’s hand more. But before he could make up his mind on whether to go for it, they got to the house and Bucky went to take a shower after the day of walking everywhere and then helping out at the docks.

***

Around an hour later they were at the bar. They ordered their drinks and food and… they were sitting there in silence, opposite each other. But it wasn’t weird or uncomfortable, it never was between them. And before Sam realized it, they were having a staring contest, initiated by Bucky, who had an amused smirk on his face. Like always, Sam could not win with the master of staring, especially when the waitress brought them the drinks and snapped him out of it. He shook his head, chuckling.

“You’re impossible.” he said, but couldn’t contain a small, fond smile. Bucky just shrugged and took a sip of his drink. “Can I ask you a question?” he added, just to start any kind of conversation. And he was kind of genuinely curious.

“I think that’s usually what people do on dates. You know, talk.” Bucky answered, his voice low and quiet, but Sam heard him perfectly.

“Yeah, I know.” Sam rolled his eyes. “I was just wondering. If I hadn’t kissed you first…” he saw Bucky’s cheeks get pink and it was truly a sight to see. “Would you ever make a move?” he smiled smugly, as Bucky looked at the drink in his hands and licked his lips before answering. Oh wow, those lips. Suddenly Sam regretted going out because all he wanted to do was grab Bucky’s beautiful face and smash their lips together.

“If I was sure you felt the same way, yeah, probably.” Bucky shrugged, looking to the side now, his face red. It was so amazing how embarrassed he could get talking about feelings.

“So you like me?” that was a stupid question and Bucky’s look and raised eyebrow told him as much. But he asked anyway.

“You think if I didn’t, I’d still be here with you? On a date? Or that I would kiss you? Or, you know, want to stay here?”

“Yeah, okay, I know, dumb question.” Sam chuckled, taking a sip of his drink. “You know, a few weeks ago I never could’ve imagined we’d end up here.”

“No one could’ve.” Buck said. “I never thought that I’d even ever-” he cut himself off and chuckled nervously. “Nevermind.” he kept looking at the table.

“Buck.” Sam felt bold and took Bucky’s hand that was on the table. He didn’t give a fuck if people saw it, everyone in the town already knew he was in love with Bucky. And if it got out and the media found out… well, he also didn’t give a fuck. Not at the moment. He thought he knew what Bucky wanted to say, but he couldn’t be sure, so he just gave him a questioning look.

“It’s fine, I don’t wanna ruin the mood or whatever.” Bucky said, but didn’t pull his hand away.

“Okay, let’s change the subject then. But just so you know, you can talk to me about anything.” he added and Bucky just squeezed his hand and smiled. “Imma repeat myself again, but damn, your smile is gorgeous.” Sam added with a goddamn involuntary sigh, already feeling embarrassed at saying that. He should really get a grip, but Bucky’s smile was just doing things to him. At the sight, his pulse was quickening and his heart was doing backflips, and his lips were automatically forming into a smile too.

“If I knew all I had to do was smile to get you like this, I’d have done this ages ago.” Bucky laughed, relaxing again.

“Really?” Sam’s eyebrow raised. Bucky blushed again.

“I mean, I always knew you were, um, hot.” his face was now red, and it was at the same time beautiful and satisfyingly funny. “I didn’t like you very much, but, you know.” he shrugged. Sam was grinning now. “Oh, shut up.”

“I’m not saying anything.” he laughed. But he had to tease him a little bit. “Aw, you’ve had a crush on me for ages. That’s adorable, Bucky.”

“I didn’t say that.”

“You basically did.” Sam argued with a teasing smile.

“I didn’t use the word crush. Because that’s not true.”

“Do you even know what having a crush means?” Sam questioned.

“Yes, I know what it means.” Bucky’s tone sounded almost offended that Sam would even imply that he wasn’t up to date with all the slang and what-not. He knew that Bucky was behind on a lot of things, which was really understandable, of course, but still it was very amusing. “I can use the Internet. And I talk to people.”

“Really? You talk to people?” Sam’s eyes widened in mock-shock. “Who? You hang out with people young enough to know shit like that? Wow, and here I thought you only talked to me, or some old men. You know, closer to your old, old age.”

“And you say that I'm annoying.” Bucky rolled his eyes, probably already knowing that Sam was not gonna let that go. Although, truth be told, Bucky had some things he could tease Sam about, too. “But you gotta admit, despite my ‘old, old age’, I still got it.” he smirked. “I mean, I have you practically throwing yourself at me.”

“So your memory’s back now?” he decided to not acknowledge the comment about throwing himself at Bucky. It was kinda true, anyway, there was no arguing, and that fact just made him blush.

“Yeah, thanks to you. Forgot already? Maybe your memory needs some refreshing, too.” he felt Bucky’s foot bumping into his, almost like a kick, but lighter.

“Maybe it does.” Sam automatically licked his lips, earning a huge, smug grin from Bucky. His gaze focused on Bucky’s lips. “Yeah, that might just be the case.” he added a little distractedly, not able to stop staring, making Bucky’s smile widen. And there was another nudge to his foot under the table, which snapped him out of his daze. “Sergeant Barnes, are you trying to play footsie with me right now?” he asked with equal amounts of amusement and amazement.

“Oh, am I?” Bucky asked faux innocently, looking Sam straight in the eyes, as their feet were now basically tangled together. It was new and different, and completely unexpected, but not unenjoyable, especially seeing that amazing smile on Bucky’s face. “I’m pretty sure I just moved my foot, and you started assuming shit.” Bucky added, his tone teasing, while one of his legs basically wrapped itself around Sam’s calf. A thought crossed his mind that they were at the bar and the lack of any kind of tablecloth was making their legs visible to anyone who looked in their direction. At least it was dark. But honestly, he didn’t really care. He couldn’t, when all he could focus on was Bucky and his smirk and that mischievous glint in his eyes, and the fact that he was touching him. Sam’s skin felt like it was on fire, and Bucky looked like he was having the time of his life.

“You’re impossible.” Sam repeated with a soft laugh. Bucky just winked at him and took a sip of his drink. And the way Sam’s insides fluttered at the wink... He was just so gone on Bucky it was ridiculous. He was just glad they could still act normally, joke and tease each other, without any awkwardness, despite the very obvious tension in the air.

The rest of the evening remained in the same light, happy tone, they talked all the time, about a lot of different things, obviously adding some teasing, like they always do, and some flirting, too. They had some more to drink, which caused Sam to get quite tipsy, while Bucky seemed stone-cold sober. The damn super soldier metabolism. Sam didn’t really think about that when suggesting to get a drink.

So now here they were, walking back home, Sam constantly bumping into Bucky every couple of steps, which the old man found really amusing. To be honest, Sam figured that if he had two or three drinks more, he would be tripping over his feet. Fortunately, that wasn’t the case. Otherwise he would die from embarrassment. Well, he still might, because apparently tipsy Sam talked without any filters.

“So are you staying because you like it here or because I’m here?” Sam asked at some point and if he was sober he would freak out. Or, he wouldn’t let the words out of his mouth, because that was just… completely unnecessary. Additionally, he wrapped his hands around Bucky’s arm and basically clung to him, which he didn’t even realize at first. He was both too tipsy, and too comfortable with Bucky. Maybe the last part was a good thing, since they were trying to build something here, but he was aware that a big part of their whole relationship was teasing and making fun of each other, so he knew that he would probably be reminded of his clinginess at some point.

"What do you think?" Bucky answered, turning his head to look at Sam with amusement and a smirk.

“I think you just wanna be where I am.” he said, more sure and confident than he was about anything else. “And if I went back to DC, you’d go with me.”

“Do you wanna go back?”

“I mean, I’ll have to, eventually.” Sam shrugged with one arm. He was vaguely aware that he was really leaning on Bucky at that point, but he didn’t seem to mind. After all, he was super strong, so that probably wasn’t even fazing him. It occurred to him that Bucky must’ve been pretty comfortable with him too, if he didn’t mind him invading his personal space that much. “It’s better to be close if the people need Captain America.” he said with exaggerated pride. He knew it would be hard, and his doubts were still there, but he could do it. He had to. Plus, he wasn’t alone, he’d have Bucky with him, hopefully. “I have a place there. I’d probably get a job.” he added. He’d been thinking about it, and it made sense. He couldn’t just stay in Louisiana forever, as much as he’d like that. And he needed to make a living somehow. But that all was stuff to think about when he wasn’t intoxicated. Right now, it was Bucky who had all his focus. “So, you know, this is more like vacation. Which we deserved. And then we’re gonna go back to DC. Or Brooklyn, if you prefer that, that’s good enough for me.” He talked too much. He was tipsy and he kept talking and he was a bit afraid he would freak Bucky out with all his planning for the future. They were on one date, for God’s sake. He needed to chill. But then again, he was a bit drunk, so he didn’t care all that much at the moment.

“We, huh?” Bucky chuckled. “That’s presumptuous.”

“C’mon, like you’re not gonna follow me anywhere I go.” Sam rolled his eyes. He really felt super confident right now. That could end with him saying even more embarrassing things, but he’d leave freaking out for the morning.

“You might have a point.” Bucky somehow freed his arm from Sam’s grasp and put it around his arms, bringing him as close as he could while still walking. “If you want me, I’ll go wherever you want.” Sam felt a kiss on his forehead. Oh, so Bucky was gonna be sappy now? Well, maybe he figured since Sam was drunk, he would get away with saying shit like that without teasing later.

“Aw, that’s adorable.” Sam ginned. “Never would’ve guessed that you can be so cute.”

“I’m not cute, shut up.” Sam didn’t need to look at Bucky to know that he rolled his eyes, but his tone of voice was light and amused.

“You shut up.” he shoved Bucky lightly. “I had a nice time.” he added suddenly, changing the topic completely. “Tonight. With you.”

“Me too, Sam. Like I said earlier, you’re not the worst company. Or the worst date.” Buck responded, laughing when Sam elbowed him, with what was supposed to be his full strength, but clearly didn’t work. And just like that, they were back to bantering the rest of the way.

***

They barely stepped inside the house when Sam pulled Bucky in for a long, enthusiastic kiss. Honestly Sam thought about those lips the whole evening, and he just wanted to keep kissing Bucky for as long as he could. Which wasn’t very long apparently, because Bucky pulled away way too soon.

“It’s late. You should get some sleep.” he said and went towards the living room, leaving Sam in the hallway, a little confused. It wasn’t that late. And they could stay up, it wasn’t like they had work in the morning or anything. Wow, he realized that he really just wanted to stay up and make out with Bucky. Well, not only make out, but nothing more was going to happen, so he’d settle for kissing.

“What are you doing?” Sam asked as he followed the other man into the room.

“Going to sleep. What does it look like I’m doing?” Bucky glanced at Sam before reaching for the folded blanket.

“You don’t have to sleep on the couch, you know?” Sam said, leaning on the doorway, probably emboldened a bit by the alcohol. “Plenty of room in my bed.” Bucky looked back at him, a suggestive smirk forming on his face. “Don’t even- I mean sleep. Just sleep.” Sam hurried to add before Bucky could make a comment and remind him that it’s not happening. “Get that fucking smirk off your face before I change my mind.” that got a small chuckle out of Bucky.

“You sure?” he looked kinda nervous as he put the blanket down and turned fully towards Sam.

“Yes, I’m sure. Don't make it weird.” Sam rolled his eyes, walking over to Bucky, grabbing his hand, and leading him to his room. Before that, Bucky managed to grab his bag from the couch.

Once they changed and settled in bed, Sam basically laid on top of Bucky’s chest, their faces close.

“Uh, hi?” Bucky said with a confused smile.

“Hi.” Sam answered, grinning like an idiot, before capturing Bucky’s lips in his again.

Bucky immediately reciprocated, putting his metal hand on Sam’s back, and his flesh one on the back of his head. Sam put one of his hands on Bucky’s cheek, while the other he used to prop himself up. Feeling Bucky’s strong body underneath him was incredible and a bit frustrating, because he just wanted him even closer. His head was swimming, probably from the alcohol, but he chose to believe that at least part of it was because of Bucky’s kisses. It was getting more and more heated, with tongues and teeth, and Sam’s hand started to travel from Bucky’s face to his arms and chest… and that’s when Bucky broke the kiss with a groan. Sam was vaguely aware of making a disappointed sound too, as he chased after his lips.

“So that is why you wanted me in your bed.” Bucky said, licking his lips as he looked up at Sam. “Are you trying to get in my pants, Wilson?” he raised his brow.

“Maybe.” Sam smirked, going in for another kiss, but Bucky leaned away, as far as he could with Sam still on top of him. “Buck.” he basically whined, though he’d never admit that. He just wanted to keep kissing him, goddammit.

“Sam, you gotta go to sleep. You’re drunk and tired, and it’s late. There will be plenty of time for this later.” he said, his hands trailing up and down Sam’s sides. It felt nice.

“Fine.” Sam murmured, then rolled off Bucky, but cuddled up to him immediately. “But can I ask you something?”

“Sure.”

“Were you serious? About, y’know, the first date thing?” he felt like he was drifting off already, as soon as he laid his head down on Bucky’s flesh shoulder. Well, Bucky was right, he was really tired, apparently.

“In this case, yes.” he answered.

“Care to elaborate?” Sam asked, not feeling satisfied with the answer. What the hell did that even mean?

“I mean, if we were, I don’t know, in my apartment or something, and not in the same house as your sister and nephews, and if you weren’t drunk… who knows how the night would end.” there was a hint of teasing in his voice.

“So. When we’re alone and sober…” Sam trailed off. “Okay. That can be arranged.” at that Bucky laughed, maybe a little too loud, which made Sam shush him.

“Wow, you’re unbelievable.” he kept chuckling. “Calm down, we’ve only gone on one date.”

“Hopefully there will be more.” Sam was basically half-asleep at that point, but still awake enough to keep the conversation going.

“Yeah.” Bucky kissed the top of his head. “Goodnight.”

“Night, Buck.”

***

When he woke up, Bucky was wrapped around him, still sleeping soundly and calmly. It seemed like he didn’t have nightmares that night, and Sam was really happy for him. Bucky actually confided in him that it happened more rarely when he was here. That was good. He still had a long way to go, but that was progress. Sam turned so that he was facing Bucky, and smiled widely, running his fingers through his hair. He could wake up like that every day.

But then he was reminded of the alcohol he consumed the previous night, because he really needed to take a leak. He didn’t wanna wake Bucky, so he carefully tried to slip out of his embrace. He mostly succeeded, with the other man startling just twice, either not waking up somehow, or just choosing to stay in bed and not acknowledge the world just yet. In any case, Sam was free to go to the bathroom.

When he was done, he planned to just go back to bed, but he saw his sister in the kitchen, and smelled the delicious coffee she was drinking.

“Hi.” he greeted her, going straight for the coffee pot.

“Morning.” Sarah grinned, leaning against the counter, as Sam reached for the mug and poured himself some of the coffee. “How was your date?” she asked, her tone clearly teasing.

“It was great. Could’ve ended a bit better, but well, besides that, it was awesome.” he shrugged, leaning against the counter opposite Sarah. He had no idea why he was saying this, it would make more sense if Bucky was there and he could tease him about it, but nevermind. He just woke up and was before his coffee.

“Oh, so it was a date? You just said that you were going out.” Sarah was clearly a bit surprised, but also amused. He did say that when he saw her briefly before going out, because why would she need to know more? But he also didn’t feel the need to hide anything, especially from his sister.

“Yeah, Bucky and I went on a date.” he rolled his eyes, but couldn’t contain a smile. It sounded ridiculous and unreal, but it happened. He was on a date with Bucky, and then they slept in one bed. Crazy. “So would you stop flirting with him?” he added, just a little bit annoyed.

“Excuse me? He’s the one flirting with me” she laughed.

“You’re encouraging him, though. And he’s just being a little shit, he’s not flirting.” well, Sam wasn’t really sure about that, but he was gonna put a stop to it anyway. Again, he was not jealous. Just a bit irritated.

“Oh, I get it, he’s trying to rile you up, huh?” Sarah was grinning now. “But I know that, Sam.” she gave him an exasperated look. “I’ve known that he had eyes only for you since I met him. And you’ve been pretty obvious, too.” she took a sip of her coffee.

“No, I wasn’t. That’s bullshit.” he said, sounding offended. Even though it was more than probable for Sarah to see right through him. She knew him really well, after all.

“Sam. It’s enough that you look at him and you get this dreamy look on your face, and you can’t stop smiling. You’re so smitten.” she chuckled. Sam couldn’t argue with that. “I’m happy that you two worked it out, though.” she added, more seriously now. “But if he breaks your heart, I will kill him.”

“I don’t doubt that.” he laughed. “He won’t, but thanks, I appreciate it.” Sam felt silly thinking that, because they just started dating, but he genuinely believed that this is something that’s gonna last. He believed that Bucky wouldn’t leave him, or break his heart or whatever. In Sam’s mind, there was literally no chance for that. Which was ridiculous. Their relationship was new and fresh, and what if something like that did happen? But then again, he’s known Bucky for much longer, they’ve been through a lot together, and they developed some kind of friendship that seemed to naturally evolve into something more. Suffice it to say, he wasn’t worried. But he didn’t need to think about that now. He should really just take it one day at a time before freaking Bucky out or something.

They were silent for a moment, just sipping their coffees, before Sarah spoke up again.

“I see that Bucky didn’t sleep on the couch.” Sam just hummed to let her know he was listening, as her statement didn’t require an answer. “But you said that the date could’ve been better. So what went wrong?” she asked, seeming half curious, half amused.

“Apparently, Bucky’s a damn gentleman.” he grumbled into his mug, earning a loud laugh from Sarah.

Just then the object of their conversation walked into the kitchen, and Sam’s lips immediately formed into a wide grin.

“Mornin’.” Bucky greeted them, a soft smile appearing on his face too, upon looking at Sam.

“Hey, Buck. How’d you sleep?” Sam asked.

“Surprisingly well.” he answered, his smile widening. “What are you guys talking about?”

“Nothing.” Sam answered, at the same time as Sarah said:

“You.”

Sam gave her a death stare, while Bucky chuckled, his cheeks reddening. Before he could say anything, though, Sam asked: “Coffee?” already reaching for another mug.

Bucky looked amused, but it seemed that he let it go for now, accepting the coffee from Sam.

Soon after that, the boys came down for breakfast, which Sam had started on in the meantime.

Later, as they all sat at the table, eating breakfast and talking, Sam took a minute to just look at the rest of them. Bucky fit in so perfectly, everyone loved having him around. And he was so good with the boys, who were really excited whenever they got to spend time with him. As Sam was looking at Bucky intently listening to some story AJ was telling, while Cass tried to interject, and Sarah tried not to laugh but at the same time keep some sort of peace at the table, he knew that this was as close to perfection as it could get. This was his place and his family. He wouldn’t exchange it for anything. And as his gaze met Bucky’s, he was filled with so much affection and love, he felt as if his heart was about to jump out of his chest, and over to Bucky, probably. They smiled at each other and he knew that this, here, was the happiest he’s ever been.

***

It was about a week later when Bucky asked him out again. It was an agonizingly long week for Sam, with Bucky now sleeping in his bed, and them still not going further than some heated make-out sessions. Sam was pretty sure he was going to lose his mind if they kept this up. He loved just having Bucky around, and he loved that despite them getting romantically involved, their whole dynamic barely changed. But he was getting frustrated. So when Bucky suggested a second date, Sam eagerly agreed.

He couldn’t have expected what Bucky planned, though.

He found himself on his boat, just before sunset, a blanket spread on the deck, with a couple of pillows, and a picnic basket with some food and a bottle of wine. Sam was amazed.

“What the-” he cut off, looking from the prepared picnic to Bucky, and back at the boat. “I- uh, I had no idea you could be so, um, romantic.”

“Yeah, well.” Bucky rubbed the back of his neck nervously. “I wanted to do something nice. And maybe spend some time alone.” he shrugged, his cheeks reddening. “And the boat is fixed up now, so… I gotta admit tho, Sarah really helped with the food. It’s not much, but-” he shrugged again.

“It’s amazing.” Sam smiled, bringing Bucky closer and leaving a soft kiss on his lips. It wasn’t that late and there were still some people at the docks, but he didn’t really give a fuck. He wanted to kiss Bucky, and that’s what he was gonna do, no matter what others might say. Or what might get leaked to the press. He would worry about that later.

“Okay, let’s just get going, before the sun goes down. I’ve been told that sunsets are romantic or some shit.” Bucky’s whole face was red now, and he clearly tried to downplay his emotions and the fact that maybe he also thought that sunsets are romantic and wanted to look at one with Sam. It was adorable, and Sam just wanted to stay in that moment forever.

“Yeah, okay.” he just said, still grinning from ear to ear.

Soon enough, Bucky steered the boat out on the water, quite far from the docks, while Sam made comments about how he’d better not drown his family’s boat and since when could he steer a boat, anyway.

The sun was quite low when they both finally sat down on the blanket. Bucky poured them wine, because of course the guy brough fucking wine glasses on deck, and they just sat there, enjoying the snacks prepared by Sarah, and looking at the beautiful sunset. At some point Sam glanced at Bucky though, and he couldn’t look away. Bucky was so gorgeous, and in that moment it was even more accentuated by the relaxed look on his face and the light from the setting sun. He was more beautiful than the sunset. And Sam just… Sarah was right, he was smitten. He was so gone, there was no turning back.

“You’re staring.” Bucky said, his gaze still on the horizon, taking a sip of the wine.

“I like the view.” Sam responded, enjoying how Bucky’s cheeks immediately got pink again. “Besides, you’re always staring. I think I’m entitled to stare a bit too.”

“Sure.” Bucky chuckled, glancing at Sam. Then he leaned in to kiss him. This kiss was short, chaste and sweet, and it was just perfect for that moment.

Sam loved kissing Bucky. They managed to kiss quite a lot in the short time since they’ve started doing that, but still every time they did, he felt the same excitement as if he was kissing him for the first time. And that reminded him of how nervous and panicked he was, which seemed silly now, that he could just lean in at any moment, and it would most likely be reciprocated.

And he loved this whole date, it was so simple and peaceful, and it was just them. Bucky really seemed to know what Sam wanted, or maybe he just wanted the same things, but either way, it was nice. It was wonderful. And so surprising, Sam never would’ve thought Bucky could come up with something like this. Although… did he, really?

“So, this date.” Sam leaned back on his hands, looking at Bucky curiously. “You thought of it yourself or did Sarah help you with that, too?” he kept his tone jocular, to make sure Bucky knew that he wasn’t serious. He loved it anyway, no matter where the idea came from.

“I came up with it.” Buck admitted, looking away. He seemed kinda shy, which only made Sam smile fondly. “I just thought you might like it.” he grumbled.

“I love it, Buck.”

“Good.” he looked at Sam, giving him one of his most charming smiles. “For once you’re not gonna complain.”

“I never complain.”

“Whatever you wanna tell yourself.” Bucky rolled his eyes and Sam kicked his leg lightly.

“You’re lucky I like to spend time with you, ‘cause usually you’re annoying the shit outta me.” Sam laughed.

“I am lucky.” Bucky’s voice was quieter and softer this time. Sam was amazed at how they could go from teasing and joking to serious conversation and right back. It was crazy, but then again, so were they.

“You’re gonna be all sappy the whole date?” he asked because it was stronger than him. Honestly, he wouldn’t really mind that.

“I dunno. But if you have a problem with that, you can always leave and go home.” he gestured vaguely towards the docks, which were pretty far away now.

“We’re on a boat, Buck.” Sam rolled his eyes, but he knew Bucky and he knew what he was gonna say next. So he was just humoring him now.

“Can’t you swim?” he smirked.

Sam chuckled despite himself. It wasn’t even funny, and he predicted that was what was gonna come out of Bucky’s mouth. And he still couldn’t help a laugh. His feelings and infatuation with Bucky were progressing, way too quickly for his liking.

A while later, they found themselves laying down on the blanket and pillows, looking up at the dark sky and the stars. It was a beautiful, clear night, and the stars were almost as captivating as Bucky, but not quite, which is why Sam kept glancing at him once in a while. A couple of times he caught Bucky looking at him, too, which made him feel all giddy.

They were also talking and finishing the one and only bottle of wine that Bucky brought.

Then at some point Sam propped himself up to take a sip of his last glass, and never laid back down, instead leaning in and kissing Bucky. Soon enough, they were full-on making out, pressed against each other. When Sam felt Bucky’s hands roam over his body, one even landing on his ass, this time he pulled away, albeit reluctantly. Bucky groaned in disappointment, moving his kisses to Sam’s neck.

“Sam, what the hell?” he asked, his voice muffled by Sam’s skin.

“Uh, I really don’t want you to stop. But I have a question.” Sam said, panting a bit already. Bucky sighed with exasperation and pulled back to look at Sam and raised his eyebrow. “If I remember correctly, last time it was not being alone in the house and the alcohol. So I just need to know if you changed your mind or if you’re just being a tease right now.” he said that more seriously than he felt, but he wanted to know how he should approach the situation.

“That’s why there was only one bottle of wine, Sam.” the exasperation was still in Buck’s voice. “Enough to get you a small buzz, without getting drunk. And I figured wine would’ve been romantic or something.” he mumbled the last bit, reluctantly letting it slip. “And it’s not a first date.” he added louder, with a smirk on his face.

“Okay.” Sam licked his lips and took a deep breath. “So we agree what’s happening here, right? We’re gonna do the nasty?” he wiggled his eyebrows.

“Just say have sex like a normal person.” Bucky rolled his eyes, capturing his lips in a passionate kiss again.

And finally, freaking finally, Bucky didn’t pull away when Sam’s hands slipped under his shirt. Even better, Bucky took it off and Sam could admire him in his full glory. He actually took a second to stop kissing and just look, because damn. He moved so now he was straddling his lap, and trailed his hands over Bucky’s chest and then down his arms, feeling the difference in the textures, and Bucky seemed a little bit nervous for a second, before Sam smiled and brought both his hands up to leave a kiss on each of them. He had no idea why but the metal arm was definitely doing it for him. Soon, that arm wrapped around his hips and brought him even closer to Bucky, if that was possible, and they kissed like that for what felt simultaneously long and too short. He briefly thought that it was so great that it was summer and the night was warm, but that thought disappeared as soon as Bucky flipped them over so that Sam was on his back, feeling the hard boards underneath, and Bucky started trailing kisses down his now bare chest. And he got lower and lower and lower… and Sam was losing his mind, this time in a good way. That was about to be the best night he’s had in a long while.

***

Later, laying on the pillows and the blanket that they were half wrapped up in, Sam felt blissful. Once again he couldn’t take his eyes off of the man beside him. He just… Bucky was the best thing that could’ve happened to him. He has grown so much over the past couple months, and Sam couldn’t have been more proud. He was an amazing person, with a big heart and this whole grumpy facade that hid a real softie. Sam loved their conversations and even, or especially, the bickering and teasing. He secretly loved Bucky’s sense of humor, too, even if it sucked and he was rarely funny. Plus, he was just gorgeous and Sam wanted to keep looking at him forever.

“Whatcha thinking about?” Bucky asked, his flesh hand tracing small patterns on Sam’s arm.

“Nothing.” he smiled, leaving a soft kiss on Bucky’s lips. It wasn’t really nothing. But he felt like it was too soon to say. Even if he was more sure of it than anything.

He was undoubtedly, completely, utterly in love.

Bucky raised his eyebrow but didn’t say anything. Just flashed him that gorgeous, soft smile, and Sam just melted, going in for another kiss, he just couldn’t resist. He hadn’t felt happier in years.

Yeah, he really loved Bucky.

THE END

#sambucky #sambucky fic #sambucky fanfiction #fluff #sambucky fluff #sam wilson #bucky barnes #sam and bucky #my writing #tfatws #third part #fanfic #last part #i suck at tags

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thetaoofzoe · 4 years

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FIC: The Mercy In You 1/1

Pairing: Demon Priest! Henry Cavill x YOU

Summary: You liked Sunday Sermons in the courtyard of the church the most.

Rating: Explicit, some religious/satanic imagery, oral sex (male receiving), rapacious absolution and yes, it’s the smutty smut you expect ;)

Notes: I don’t remember who said it, but this came out of the conversation regarding Sherlock!Henry’s high white collar :)

Bonus points if you know the song from which I took the title.

(sherlock pic from andyicons)

Want to read more? Click for my Masterlist

It was an extremely pleasant mid-Autumn morning and you enjoyed the warmth of the sun on your shoulders as you sat on the soft, neatly cut grass in the small courtyard between the church’s main building and the second smaller building which had been repurposed for administrative offices.

A thick luscious green hedge enclosed one side of the courtyard, and on the other side stood a tall iron lattice fence woven with thick ropy green vines from which sprouted sweet smelling red and purple flowers.

As you sat there, basking in the sun, you watched as two men, dressed all in black, ferried a small table and two matching chairs from the administrative building and into the courtyard where they set them up near to the tall hedge. Another man brought out a white dish, a vase of flowers and a silver goblet which he arranged carefully on the table.

One of the men looked your way and you gave him a friendly wave. He nodded and you went back to checking your audio equipment.

It was just another daily sermon session that the church liked to provide for parishioners who could not, or did not want to attend in person, but still wanted to receive the good word. You and your crew had been working with the church for months now, helping them to set up and livestream the daily sermons, and then edit and post the videos to the church’s website for future viewing.

You attended most of the filming sessions and found that each presenter brought a different flavour to their sermons, which you liked. And, while you weren’t particularly religious you found yourself liking the Sunday Sermons the best, for was a nice positive way to start the week.

‘Well,’ said the cameraman, glancing at his wristwatch. ‘We’re just waiting for the priest. We’ve got about a half hour before we start the stream.’

With a soft groan born of stiff cramped muscles from sitting cross-legged too long, you pressed up from the ground and stretched.

‘I’ll go and have a look around for him. I also want some water, so… two birds, one stone.’

The cameraman shrugged and you turned away, scowling, rebuffed that you didn’t even get a chuckle from your off-handed joke.

You walked across the grass to one of the open doors that you knew led to the corridor that ran directly passed the ladies loo and into the kitchen. Stepping into the cool dim interior, something odd grabbed your attention.

You paused and listened carefully, but there was only muted silence. You closed your eyes and a sudden wave of strange arousal washed over you. You sucked in a sharp breath, surprised by the response of your body to that unseen force.

Then as quickly as the fervour had seized you, it was gone. You opened your eyes and casting about an apprehensive glance, you let out a shaky breath. You were alone in the corridor. Or at least as alone as you could tell. You made moves to continue to the kitchen when your bladder reminded you that there was another pressing matter at hand.

You eyed the heavy wood loo door and said aloud, ‘Ok, three birds.’

There were no towels, so you were still shaking your hands dry when you left the toilets, and walked down the hall to where the offices were located. If the priest giving the sermon was anywhere, it was probably in there.

As you approached the offices, you could hear a soft chanting. The sound of it seemed to be coming from everywhere and you stopped, feeling a little disorientated. There was that rush of arousal again and you could feel the wetness beginning to seep into the crotch of your knickers.

The chanting waned a bit and keeping your focus on the door marked ‘Office’ you forced yourself to keep moving. You then realised that the chanting was coming from behind the office door. Male voices rose and fell rhythmically and you wondered if they were getting ready for the morning. Although you were loathe to disturb the men, you lifted your hand to knock on the door as you had to fetch the priest who would be giving the sermon in less than half an hour.

You knocked, and the chanting ceased. Putting on your pre-emptively chagrined face, you waited nervously for the door to swing open and possibly reveal a frazzled looking priest. However, you were still facing a closed door after a few minutes drifted by.

You knocked again.

Silence.

You felt uneasy and slipped your hand down the smoothly worn wood to rest on the door knob. You didn’t want to just barge in, so you waited and lifted your hand to knock again.

‘Are you looking for someone?’

The quiet voice behind you made you jump. You spun round, and pressed back against the office door.

‘Oh!’ you cried, pressing a hand to your breast and cringing at how dramatic you sounded. ‘You gave me a such a fright! I didn’t hear you.’

You recognised the tall man standing behind you and he looked perfectly pleasant with his bright blue eyes, brown curls and stiff high white collar.

‘I’m sorry,’ he said slowly, but looked anything but. ‘That wasn’t my intention.’

You let out a relieved, breathy laugh and mentally groped for his surname.

‘It’s Father ahh…’

‘It’s just Henry, please. There’s no need for formalities.’

You tasted his name on your tongue, licking it into the roof of your mouth, savouring it as you formed the syllables of his name and dumbly repeated it back to him, much to his visual delight.

It was an effort to break his gaze and you silently congratulated yourself when you managed to do it.

‘I’m ah…’ you jerked a thumb over your shoulder at the door behind you. ‘I’m looking for the priest who is doing the morning sermon. I... hahaha... I got distracted by the chanting.’

His eyes slid over to the door and then back to you and you felt thoroughly probed by his intense gaze. Your nipples tightened reflexively and you were embarrassed by the sweet lasciviousness that rose unbidden in your thoughts.

‘I don’t think anyone’s in there,’ he said, sounding incredulous about your claim of hearing chanting.

You opened your mouth to defend your own lucidity, but the words dried up when he reached for you. A pulse of excitement echoed in your core and you tensed, ready for the heat of his hand on you.

But it didn’t come.

Instead, he merely nudged you aside and closing his hand round the wood doorknob, he turned it. You barely had time to step away before he swung the door open, revealing a small cluttered room with one dusty window and four wood desks crammed close together in the centre. Trying to keep a respectable distance between the two of you and failing miserably, you curved around the door frame and sheepishly peeked in.

The room was empty and the free standing water dispenser gurgled mockingly from its place in the corner.

With his hand still on the knob, and his body trapping you in the corner between the door and the wall, Henry looked at you.

He was so close.

‘Maybe that’s what you heard?’ he asked, indicating the dispenser with a jerk of his chin.

‘I heard voices,’ you mumbled, looking back at him.

Noticing the thin strands of grey mingling with the curls at his temple, you caught yourself before you leaned in and sniffed him like a bitch in heat.

There was that wave of dark arousal again, deep and thrumming and more intense this time and you could only imagine that the source of that tantalising sensation, was Henry.

He pulled the door closed again and it slapped unceremoniously against your bottom, startling a gasp out of you.

‘Anything else?’ he asked, sounding pleased with himself.

There was something that he wanted, something that he expected from you and you couldn’t bring yourself to admit that whatever this thing was, you wanted to give it to him.

‘Forgive me, Father,’ you gasped, words escaping your wicked mouth before you even attempted to squash them.

His eyebrows rose with interest, silently asking about what you let hang unsaid in the air, and his plush lips lengthened into a knowing smile. There was an eagerness to his manner now, excitement and expectation in his fathomless blue eyes.

Was there a need to respond?

Obviously not, for Henry turned round without another word and beckoning you with two fingers, he led you from the administrative building to the main church and to the row of confessional booths lining the back wall.

When he pulled open the door to one of the booths, you belatedly thought that if this was the Father who was giving the sermon, this might make him late.

You had to say something.

‘I– I ah…’ you started and he paused mid-step into the booth, but didn’t look at you.

And in between slow, deep breaths, you heard him say, ‘Come, child.’

Or at least, you thought he spoke.

The whisper of his deep voice swirled around like smoke, coming from everywhere, coming from you and you weren’t sure which of you had spoken. You felt dizzy and unfettered and Henry was the only anchor that your mind could hold on to.

He then stepped fully into the booth and was sitting on the bench seat when you too stepped inside and closed the half-latticed door behind you. There was a low padded stool between his feet and instinctively you dropped to your knees before him. On the wall above his head hung the upside down cross outlined in thin red neon tubing and he was vaguely illuminated in the crimson tinged darkness.

You were sure that he was saying something and this close to him, you could feel his voice rumbling through you more than you could hear, or make out the words. You put your hands together in prayer in front of your face, then pressed your lips to the backs of your upraised thumbs.

Henry murmured soft encouraging praise when you reached forward and pushed aside the front panels of his black cassock. The material was softer than you expected and smiling a little, you stroked your palms up his surprisingly muscular thighs to where his trousers were fastened with a simple button and zip fly.

Henry trailed delicate fingers along your hair line and you could smell the scent of sugary vanilla and warm heather. You closed your eyes, inhaling the pleasant scent of his skin, and let your hands work blindly to guide his rock hard cock from his trousers. He was thick and heavy in your hands, nearly monstrous and your mouth watered at the sight of him.

You looked up at the sound of a soft exhalation of breath and what you saw made your own breath catch. He seemed to glow, the caramel highlights in his chocolate brown hair catching the blood red light, that same light causing the wetness between his slightly open lips to glisten. Sharp, jagged upper fangs curved down against his lower lip and the evidence of his true nature pulsed molten heat through you. This is what he was, this beast, you thought ecstatic to be privy to this sinful delight.

It was nothing at all to slide his glorious cock into your eager mouth and even further when he pressed your head down.

The scent of him surrounded you and the taste of him was incredible. Flattening your tongue, you drew back and trailed saliva wet strokes up and down the underside of his rigid flesh and Henry groaned deeply, voluptuously in response. Greedily, you engulfed him again, suckling him desperately, unashamed by the muffled, hungry noises you made.

You dug your fingers into his thigh to gain some purchase as you encircled the base of his cock with the other. When you squeezed, he swore beneath his breath, pushing you on to do it again. You swirled your tongue round the swollen, leaking head, licking him, sucking him until his hips snapped up to force his slick cock down your throat.

He gripped the back of your neck, and growled, ‘Accept your absolution.’

You held your breath and went still, relishing the fiery pulse of cum filling your mouth. Your face went hot and with salty tears stinging your eyes, you accepted it rapaciously.

Mouth brimming with thick creamy fluid, you gazed up at him once more, and in the dim crimson light, he gave you a contented grin that again exposed his ivory coloured fangs.

He then fisted your hair and dragged you up from your knees before forcing you to straddle him.

Leaning in you let his sticky cum dribble into his open, waiting mouth as he guided you down into a sloppy possessive kiss.

Your walkie talkie crackled and you could hear the staticky voice of the cameraman.

‘Have you located Father Henry?’ he asked, sounding annoyed. ‘He’s going to make us late!’

Henry continued to kiss you, sucking your tongue into his mouth, heedless of the call for the Sunday Sermon. His grip on your arse held you tight to him and it was a struggle to pull away.

‘They… they’re looking for you,’ you gasped, stating the obvious.

‘And?’ he asked.

‘And, you ahh… promised?’

What else could you say to a demon priest who was scheduled to perform the Sunday morning sermon?

Henry righted himself, huffed a disappointed sigh and standing, dumped you off of his lap. You tried to take a step back, but stumbled over the low stool. He caught you up by the waist and tutted softly.

‘I shan’t dare damage you as I wish to have you for later.’

In his dark embrace, you found yourself swooning. He lifted you effortlessly with one hand and opening the booth door, he deposited you carefully on your feet out in the main hall’s interior. You stared helplessly up at him, your devotion to him burning like a live wire inside you. You felt that you could weep at the sight of him.

He looked perfectly composed and just as pleasant as he did when you encountered him earlier in the day. You pressed the back of your hand to your mouth to silence your disappointed moan when he turned and strode to the courtyard where the filming crew waited.

Instead of following him, you went to sit in one of the back pews and looked up at the monstrous upside down cross that hung behind the pulpit - a knowing specter that had been a witness to your rapturous gratification.

Your walkie crackled again.

‘Get out here! Who else is going to work the audio?’

With a sigh, you heaved yourself up from the pew and trudged out to the courtyard. You knew you wouldn’t survive the next hour.

-End. Please like reblog and follow, all that good stuff. Comment if you were moved :)

#henry cavill #henry cavill smut #henry cavill x you #henry cavill x reader

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daredevilexchange · 3 years

Photo

Want to be featured here? Head to this page and fill in the form!

See what this is about here, or if you’re using the app here.

What’s your fannish ID? @jacketpotatoo - but I’m known as Ash!

What types of fanworks do you create? I create art, usually of characters, and sometimes I make simple comics. I love the ability to materialise the ideas and scenarios I think of in my head, as well as the challenge of getting what I put down to match them! I would love to create merchandise someday (stickers, keychains and such). I also quite enjoy character/film analysis and post my thoughts on my tumblr every once in a while so I may try my hand at a video essay a long time in the future hahaha

What are your favourite types of fanworks, when you’re not creating? Fan art! Seeing other people’s awesome stuff always motivates me to keep improving my own craft. I’m a sucker for character analysis so I love reading fics and metas and watching video essays too

What do you like in particular about this fandom? Matt Murdock! And specifically Daredevil S3. It handled its characters so masterfully and it’s just so incredibly good. I would say I’m only toe deep in the fandom but I like the lack of infighting, especially compared to the larger MCU fandom (unless I’m missing something haha). I’m not much of a shipper I’m afraid

Do you like participating in fan events? I like participating in fanzines but I don’t have a lot of time whilst juggling commissions and projects and personal art so I don’t join too many. I would join exchanges and such but I’m an avid procrastinator :,)

What about your creating process? I’m not super picky when it comes to the process but my favourite conditions to sketch in is when it’s raining and with music playing. I’ve been listening to Bo Burnham’s Inside while drawing a lot but I like to listen to video essays in the background too. I get excited when watching stuff and when I see other’s art, as well as when a random idea hits me suddenly and I want to draw it out. I also have go-to characters to sketch like Spider-Man, Clint Barton, or my ocs.

Do you interact a lot with other fans? Not on my tumblr not really! I do the reblog and the commenting and I really enjoy reading the tags - it’s probably my favourite thing about tumblr. I would love to interact more, yeah!

Do you have other fandoms you'd like to talk about? I’m most actively in the MCU fandom but I dabble in other fandoms like Sherlock, Haikyuu, Starkid, SW, naruto, I could go on. I got into Daredevil because many people were saying it was really good in MCU spaces I was in (and they were right) and with the nwh rumours, I went for it. Really great show.

Is there any particular piece you'd like to showcase for this post? I’ve not drawn much defenders art but I have 3 Matt Murdock pieces. Two of them were drawn right after I finished watching S3 of daredevil and the most recent was because I wanted to draw a masked character

Is there anything else you want to tell us about yourself? Nope! I feel weird talking about myself this much already haha.

Where can your fanworks be found? #jacketpart is my art tag on tumblr Socials: https://linktr.ee/Jacketpotatoo (Instagram, tumblr, Twitter for fanart, speedpaints on youtube)

Thank you, @jacketpotatoo !

banner by @context-is-for-kingpins !

[ID on a white background, four black triangles that look like spotlights from above. Each illuminates one of the Defenders silhouetted in white: Jessica, Luke, Danny, Matt. A hand on the left is holding a pen writing the words Content Creator Spotlight. There is a little Punisher skull on the pen. End ID]

#daredevil #marvel #fanart #daredevil fanart #Content Creator Spotlight

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himluv · 6 years

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I’m so excited to share this new layout with all of you! I really like this one. It’s crisp, super easy to navigate, and very professional looking. It also feels a bit more dynamic than last year’s. I’m not sure if that’s because of the contrasting aqua and purple (my favorite colors), or the widgets, or the site logo, but I do know I like it a lot.

Now, let’s get down to business and talk about what the heck happened in 2018!

In 2018 I said I wanted to:

Finish The Steel Armada

Finish Santa Sarita

Submit 2 short stories

Publish 52 blog posts

Read 65 books

Maintain my yoga practice

How’d it go?

Finish The Steel Armada

…Yes! As far as I’m concerned, right now, this project is stamped ‘done’. It turned out nothing how I planned, and became almost a complete rewrite halfway through 2018. The Steel Armada became Exodus: Descent, a SolarPunk novella. I sent it to Tim the Agent™ back in August, but have not heard from him. I’m shelving it for now, though I have plans for future novellas set in the same world. So, final status of this project is: Done for now.

Finish Santa Sarita

No. I thought so, and then BAM, another sequel appeared. I bit off a lot with this one, and I’m a little worried about it. So, this will be a pretty high priority in 2019. I don’t want this project lingering over my head anymore. Project status: In Progress.

Submit 2 short stories

Heck yes! This was much easier to do than I thought when I made this goal. So much so that by the end of 2018 I had three stories out for submission.

Publish 52 blog posts

Yep. And then some. This was, hands-down, the best year the blog has ever had. 119 posts, an average of one comment per post, and over 5,000 hits this year has really blown my mind. Consistency really is key.

Read 65 books

Yes! I read 67 books this year! It wasn’t easy, by any means, but I had just enough time and graphic novels to really pad my Goodreads Challenge.

Maintain my yoga practice

Hahaha. No. I got bronchitis two weeks into 2018 and fell out of my practice. I’m contemplating trying again this year, but with two jobs and some lofty writing goals, I’m not sure if I can dedicate the time.

2018 Total Word Count: 149,331

Honorable Mentions

2018 was an eventful year, both personally and in my working life. I received a scholarship to attend the Oregon Writer’s Colony Annual Conference in April, which really affirmed that I’m on the right track and making strides in this whole writing life thing. Right about that time I started submitting my short stories for the first time in over four years. That was a roller coaster all its own, and has been a great learning experience and growth opportunity for me.

June saw my traditional wave of summer depression. I coped by binge-playing Horizon Zero Dawn and eating way too many Flamin’ Hot Cheetos.

But, July and August were some of my most productive months of the year, with the completion of Exodus and the rough draft of my newest short story, That Which Illuminates Heaven.

September was the least productive month of the year, and reasonably so because we spent 12 days in Germany! It was an amazing trip, the exact vacation we so desperately needed, and our first journey abroad together. We hope to spend more time in Munich someday, especially for Christmas. And of course, we have other travel dreams! Ireland, New Zealand, Italy, the UK! The world is a big place, and I want to see as much of it as we can.

October was spent readjusting to working two jobs and outlining and researching for my new novel. Writing was limited and that sucked, but it was all part of the plan. It worked out, because I met my word count goal for November, with a startling 25k words! That’s about a third of the planned manuscript, which is kind of crazy if I think about it too much.

December is a busy month in our house, what with my birthday and the holiday. Add in the mental recuperation from Nanowrimo and it meant I just didn’t expect much from myself that month. But I did finish my reading goal while I let my writing muscle relax!

I read 16,300 pages across 67 titles in 2018!

I also flexed my editing muscle this year with The Audient Void. We released two issues this year, and are on the cusp of releasing a new chapbook of some of David Barker’s previously unpublished short stories, Half in Light, Half in Shadow.

2018’s word was FOCUS. It was my mantra, the thing I came back to when I felt out of control or like I was drowning in my workload. Based on how well my year went, I think it worked. So, I want to pick a new word for 2019:

INTENT.

I want to be purposeful in my writing, I want to take the time to better learn my craft and write with more intention. I don’t really know what that will mean for my writing just yet, but I bet I will by January 1, 2020.

What am I doing in 2019?

I am finishing the Tavi rough draft. I’m already a third of the way there. In an ideal world this rough draft will be done by the end of March/beginning of April. Realistically, this will take the first half of the year.

I will finish Santa Sarita. This is a big job still. I think, right now, I’m really stuck in my head about it. I need to sit down and start writing this story again and let it take the reins. I honestly think that’s the only way it’ll get done.

I will revise Cards. This is the project that comes after the Tavi rough draft. I wrote Cards back in 2014, and I’ve learned a lot since then. Much like The Steel Armada, I anticipate Cards will require extensive rewrites. But, I’m ready. I learned how to do that last year and I’m equipped with the skills and knowledge to do it again this year.

I will publish something! This is a tricky one. I don’t actually have much control over this goal. There are a lot of factors that go into getting a piece published and almost none of them are decided by me. But, I have three stories out right now. I want at least one of them to find a home.

I will publish two blog posts a week. I’ve got this into a rhythm now, so I’m confident I can do it again.

I will read 70 titles. I exceeded my reading goal this year, it only makes sense to increase it in 2019.

If time allows, I’d like to…

Make considerable progress (30k words) on From the Quorum. This novel is the first in a planned trilogy, and is my longest-lived idea. I first met these characters in 2009, and they are still around, patiently waiting for me to tell their story. I don’t know if I’ll make much progress on it this year, but it will definitely be a priority in 2020.

Write a new short story! I have three out now that are performing well. It’s just a matter of time before one of them finds a home. It’d be nice to have one waiting in the wings and ready to go when that finally happens.

Submit Exodus to novella markets. I actually think this one is pretty likely to happen. But, with Tavi and Cards looming, this won’t be on my radar until the later half of the year.

There’s a lot to do in 2019. I probably bit off more than I can chew, especially since I’m working two jobs right now. There’s also always the reading and editing for Madhu and The Audient Void to consider.

So, in short, I’m a busy busy lady and nothing about that will change in 2019. I look forward to sharing that journey with all of you in the coming months.

I’ll be back later this week with the Monthly Recap!

Until then, Blogland.

New Year’s, New Look – 2019 I'm so excited to share this new layout with all of you! I really like this one.

#Accomplishments #Editing #Fantasy Fiction #goals #new look #New Year #Novella #Novels #Reading #Rewriting #Short Stories #Submissions #The Audient Void #workworkwork #Writing #year in review

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dreamca7cher · 6 years

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Dreamcatcher Dream of US in LA Fanmeet write-up

Hello friends! I have enjoyed reading fanmeet write-ups from others in the past, so I figured that those who weren’t able to go might like to give this a read. *Disclaimer* this is ridiculously long, It was actually about twice as long before I condensed and edited. I’ve had a week now to supplement my memory with the fancams and photos that have been trickling out, but I do apologize if I’ve misremembered or left anything out.

I basically jumped at the chance to attend kcon as soon as I read that Dreamcatcher would be there. I was lucky to get some good P1 seats with 2 other kpop-loving friends. At first I was a little bummed that DC was billed as a special guest, which meant they would not be doing any official kcon “artist engagement” activities like hi-touch. But then news of their solo LA fan meeting was announced and I was absolutely ecstatic. It just so happened that my flight was scheduled to arrive early enough Friday to make it to the fanmeet venue just in time. On the day tickets were to go on sale, I barely got anything done at work and watched my computer clock like a hawk, refreshing the site every millisecond, ten seconds before ticket sales opened. Fortunately, I was lucky to secure one of the 125 seated spots. This would be my first in-person experience of any kind concerning kpop, so I was insanely excited and simultaneously nervous af.

I arrived at the venue about 15 minutes before it was scheduled to start and saw a decent line around this real hole-in-the-wall looking place. The people in line said it was for the seated spots, which surprised me. I thought there would be more standing than seated positions, but it turns out there were only maybe 10-15 people standing. It was hot as balls out there, and we were standing directly in the sun so we were all quickly drenched in sweat. I learned later that the girls had actually arrived earlier in a black van in front of the venue. I was probably still in transit at that time, but it must have been nice for the fans already standing in line to get that first glimpse of them! When we finally made it inside, the staff checked our names off a list and we were able to sign a giant American flag that the girls would hold later for a group picture. The fans who did not bring their own album to be signed were given a small poster. It was basically free for all seating, I was on the far right side on the last row but no matter – the venue was small enough to see everything clearly. As soon as I sat down I realized either the A/C wasn’t on.. or there was none at all. There were a few floor fans pointed at the stage, but I felt bad for the girls once they entered and I saw they were wearing sorta heavy looking tops L There was a slightly raised wooden stage in the front and a long table for them to sit at. Two tall speakers flanked the stage, but the music later wasn’t too loud. The crowd was ethnically diverse and probably around a 50%-50% gender split, proving Dreamcatcher’s wide appeal to all sorts of fans. It was however a much older crowd than the average makeup of the kcon attendees, as this was not a boy group.

The girls soon entered, which was such a surreal moment. It was almost like I couldn’t believe they were real people ya know? Having only watched them on video, it’s more like you’re watching a fictional movie sometimes. I know it’s cliché, but they really are sooo much prettier in person. I think they did look a little tired and/or nervous, but their smiles were illuminating and they did little fan service gestures whenever possible. They did their standard introduction with JiU speaking the most as leader, with small remarks like how hot it was and that it was nice to meet all of us. I thought Yoohyeon would speak the most, but she was probably nervous to use her English with us. The event went straight into the fan-signing with rows lining up one by one while the crowd was free to take pictures/videos. There are much better quality videos out there from the front, but I’ll post my crappy phone videos in case anyone wants to see from the right-hand perspective. I apologize for any shaking, as tripods were not allowed. The signing was fairly quick, everyone had just about enough time for each of the girls to sign their album or poster and maybe exchange a sentence or two.

I was one of like the last 4 people to go since I was at the back, and by this point my adrenaline was going crazy. I’ve never fainted before, but if there would be a time to, then that would be it. I didn’t know if this was strictly allowed, but I did see a few fans high five the members. I refrained however because then that would mean I could never wash that hand (j/k I didn’t want any chance of getting kicked out). So I decided to stick to a compliment or two which I had gone over in my head again and again for a few days prior. I wrote down a longer version of what I was going to say on some notes, since that’s all we were allowed to gift the girls. I had also decided to write my notes on origami paper of their favorite colors and fold my notes into paper cranes to stand out, because I am a crazy person. The research (I got their favorite colors from an interview which I’ll post later), the writing, and the folding all took much long than I anticipated which resulted in me only getting 1 hour of sleep Thursday night before my early flight. So this all culminated in a peak state of nervousness. All too soon it was my turn! I won’t go into what exactly I said or what was in my notes, it was just basically a compliment or encouragement. SuA was first, she waved and said hi as I approached. She was consistently the most hyper and playful that day, possibly because it was her birthday. She seemed really genuine too, and seemed the most relaxed I think. Handong was second, she was predictably shy, but was very appreciative of the crane and said it was cute. Her signature is the most unique too. I wrote some really crappy Chinese in my note that I hope she could read haha.. Next was Siyeon, she looked a bit tired, but she was hella pulling off the dark concept look with her black hair and colored contacts. She also spoke a lot of English that day, even if it wasn’t complete sentences like Yoohyeon. I think previous reports are accurate too, she was very quirky with her mannerisms. JiU was in the middle, and was positively glowing :O she was smiling pretty much the whole time and I think even picked up the crane and flapped it around a little adorably. It was hard not to grin widely as well the whole time. Idk JiU just has this like unlimited energy that shines no matter how hot or tired she was. I pictured her as like a Super Saiyan or something with her positive aura. Yoohyeon was next and also looked a little tired. But she said a few things in English to me, and had an absolutely gorgeous smile. I haven’t 100% settled on a bias yet, but girl makes it hard to not choose her. Gahyeon was 6th and actually was saying a lot of things in English. She also seemed to like the crane a lot and has a really cute smile. Dami was last, and was so cool and reserved. She’s really good at the appreciative head nod, no wonder she seemed to be the most popular that day. I forgot to tell all of them that the cranes were actually notes they could unfold and read, I may have told 2-3 of them but I’m not sure if they understood. Ah well. The whole signing probably only lasted a couple minutes, but seeing them up close and actually chatting with them is something I will never forget. After the staff also got their signatures, they moved the big table so the girls could perform.

First up was You and I, and boy was it a sight to behold in person. Their movements were so sharp and energetic, and it’s probably my favorite choreography of any kpop song. They just lip-synced which is ok, since it let me focus on the dance. Dami’s baton reveal probably got the loudest cheer, it was really awesome to see up close, and she does it so nonchalantly. Siyeon’s scarf throw also got a loud cheer. SuA definitely had the most powerful dancing, as expected. I didn’t know all the fanchants, but the other InSomnias obliged well. The girls sprinkled in little hearts and waves to the audience throughout the performance. Right after, they performed Full Moon, which was a very nice gift to the American InSomnias :] The chest pumping part probably had the loudest cheers, as it was the fiercest part of the choreo. During Dami’s solo rap part, she came up real close and waved to everyone, which also brought lots of cheers. The part where SuA and Handong get dragged across the floor was also popular for some reason. I haven’t watched as many fancams of Full Moon, but I really like the choreo, especially Siyeon’s parts. She rules that performance with her movements and expressions.

After the performance, the girls played a question and answer game from a board made up of stick notes that the crowd had written earlier (via translator). The first question I think was for SuA to do a solo funny dance. She asked “no music?” and Siyeon tried to do beatboxing and failed hard hahaha. So Yoohyeon sang to and SuA did a short hilarious dance to Dame Tu Cosita before collapsing in embarrassment. It was so adorable XD the 2nd question was what was the girls favorite Dreamcatcher song. SuA said Mayday, and sang her part a bit. The next question was “what’s it like performing for fans who don’t speak Korean and understand the lyrics?” Handong said that there was nonetheless a connection and that she was surprised and thankful that fans still sing along to the songs. SuA also said we felt like family, sister, brother, mother, father.. lol. The next question was what is your favorite choreography/point move? JiU said she likes the “baby you and I” part of You and I, and Yoohyeon likes the Chase Me part where they grab their hair lol. SuA likes the kiss blowing parts, and Siyeon likes when the members are dragged in Full Moon (probably because it’s not her being dragged haha). Then there was a question about superpowers, and Gahyeon said teleportation and JiU said she never wanted to get tired so she could always meet her fans, like the perfect leader she is. Siyeon said “you already do that” lol. Then Dami was asked how the baton worked, which I’m sure we all have always wondered. It’s basically like a spring-loaded telescoping thing held by a cap. Super cool, and got a resounding applause. Next was one of the more anticipated questions “which member would you marry?” and SuA immediately stood up lol. Siyeon took the mic and said JiU, because she makes really cute noises when she sleeps, revealing her creeper status lolol. Siyeon asked “will you marry me” and JiU said “oooh, yes” lmao. The next question was who has the best legs, to which Yoohyeon crossed her legs expectantly. But then she said she thought Handong has the best legs and asked her to stand up, which she did! Doing some model poses for us, very uncharacteristically ^^ JiU also said Handong has the straightest legs. Then Dami was asked to do some aegyo! Haha poor Dami, she chose to say “hi, nice to meet you, thank you” very adorably. The girls were then asked what songs they listen to in their personal time. SuA is currently obsessed with This is America and did the iconic gun pose lol. Siyeon likes Ariana Grande, and sang some No Tears Left to Cry. They were then asked what artists they want to collaborate with, and Yoohyeon said Day6 which got a big cheer. I also love Day6, and that would be such a match made in heaven! She also beautifully sang a little bit of Letting Go. Siyeon said she wanted to cover Sean Mendes Treat You Better and SuA wanted to do a Taylor Swift song. They were asked about actors they want to meet in LA, and they said the Avengers lol. I think they visited Hollywood Boulevard and said they kinda felt like they met them because there were people dressed up in costumes. Gahyeon also wanted to meet Daniel Henney because he lives in LA. Then JiU said I want to meet my fans with this huge dorky smile lol. The next question was about any future America tour plans, and JiU said of course, and asked us to visit them again next time. They were then asked who their other favorite kpop group was, and JiU said Red Velvet. Yoohyeon asked if she could dance a little bit, so JiU cutely danced to Bad Boy briefly. Siyeon also said KARD. They were asked what their favorite part of LA was, and SuA said she really liked In-N-Out burger and that it was yummy, specifically combo #3 lol. She also wanted to ride rides at Santa Monica and swim, to which Siyeon reminded her that she can’t swim lmao. The last question was about their favorite quotes. Dami’s motto is “in life there are no answers, so do what makes you happy”. JiU said “let’s live happy”, which she definitely exudes all the time ^^. Also that we were all beautiful and smart enough, so to live a happy life. Yoohyeon said that her mom always said to her “if you have a dream, imagine it will happen, and it will be”. Lastly, the girls took a group photo with all three of the sections, holding the American flag we signed earlier. JiU closed out with thanks and a promise they would see us again. SuA said thank you for celebrating my birthday, and Handong said thank you for your passion. Then the staff brought out a birthday cake and we surprised SuA by singing happy birthday. She looked so happy the entire time, and even did a little moonwalk haha. Dami did one last tour around the crowd waving to everyone, and that was it.

And the rest of the weekend was downhill! J/k the kcon stages were amazing, and I saw them again multiple times at the convention, but the fanmeet was of course the highlight of the trip. As my first in-person kpop experience, this will definitely be hard to top. I vaguely wondered before the fanmeet if finally meeting them in person would diminish my perfect image of them in my head, but actually the opposite is true. Now they feel like real people I know, which just makes me like them even more. I was also very proud of the American InSomnias, everyone was respectful, there were no crazy incidents, no one had to be thrown out by security, it just went as smooth as can be. I also want to thank 7-dreamers for organizing this whole thing, and for the smooth operation. I could talk forever about my experiences, but I will end it here. Maybe I’ll do a write-up of the convention and concert if anyone’s interested? Thanks for reading!

#dreamcatcher #dream of US in LA #fan account #write-up #fanmeet #text #this took me like a week to write can you tell?#fav

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mihanada · 6 years

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Grandmaster of Demonic Cultivation Liveblog(back to masterpost)

I have gone out of order and decided to blog my live reactions to the new chapters are they are released, and leave the retroactive review/reactions for the past chapters.

Potential spoilers for some things that haven’t been revealed yet, because I know a few of the reveals from later in the novel from my investigating lol.

Chapter 49: Aggression (Part 3)

I-I really want to know what happens after the flashbacks. For this whole novel so far, every time we hit a flashback I want to hurry up and return to the present to know what’s going to happen. But on a reread, I don’t want the flashbacks to end because they’re actually really great. Stories with a lot of flashbacks can grow too tedious if the writer isn’t careful, but I grow really fond of all of them once I go back and read everything at a slower pace.

Aaanyways, now might be a nice time to mention Mr. Headless Corpse aka Nie Mingjue is one of my favorite characters. I don’t know why?? He is a giant ball of anger and extreme EXTRA reactions like he is constantly flying off the handle it seems, but I just...really like his straightforward, gives-no-fucks attitude. He doesn’t stop for anything, and if it’s something he can’t forgive, he won’t back down- it’s his strength and probably his downfall, too.

And the fact that his sect had to come up with an elaborate burial grounds for their swords (well, they’re calling them sabers here to differentiate the type, I know). That was actually a pretty neat part of the story. Come to think of it, that was a while ago already, huh.

It still kills me that Wei Wuxian referred to him as “our dear friend” all this time though haha. god. that is way too innocuous to refer to this guy. Even half dead and literally at his enemy’s doorstep, he still finds it in him to rage and fight back.

Are these guys made of steel though or what?? I mean, I guess I’m not too surprised since xianxia seems to have originated from the general wuxia genre but yikes.

This is also the first appearance of Wen Ruohan. He’s only been mentioned once or twice before and, yeah, I can see why everyone wanted this dude dead. And the Wen clan or sect or whatever.

I...wonder...if I will like Jin Guangyao/Meng Yao any better on subsequent read throughs (i mean, I did end up liking Xue Yang as the villain he is for his arc). because right now I just want to reach into the screen and choke the life out of him.

I know that this part was him acting as a spy, but still. It’s a hard pill for Nie Mingjue to swallow, completely clashing with his personal ideology. And it’s also tough for Meng Yao at the time. Maybe if it had all ended here, because his actions at the time weren’t the nicest, but they were understandable and even necessary in terms of the war effort. It seems that he really was earnestly trying to prove and make something of himself during this part of his life.

Moving on...

How did Meng Yao manage to get out of there after striking at Wen Ruohan anyways. I mean, some of the other cultivators captured with Nie Mingjue were still alive I think, and quite a few Wen cultivators died when Nie Mingjue went a little berserk back there, but still.

It was quite interesting, narrative wise, how they set Jin Guangyao up as a nice, decent guy at first. Wei Wuxian didn’t have a negative opinion of him, so this all unfolds and. welp. he is the definition of a backstabber isn’t he. On one hand, you do feel kind of bad for him given what he went through, and on the other hand you want to throttle him. And even in this part, Nie Mingjue might think so, but his actions here aren’t irredeemable at all. Yet. Because we know he has Nie Mingjue’s head on his damn shelf in modern day and not to mention that he killed his own son and some how ends up causing the death of his wife, too.

All the makings of a good villain character, no?

Really, he does make a good villain. There are parts where you sympathize with him, and parts where he has taken things too far. It’s difficult to tell if he is ever being sincere with his words, too.

But. Nie Mingjue, you really do need to chill for, like. Two seconds. It’s no wonder he’s still roaming about after his death and even with his limbs scattered across the land. LOL he’s so extra I can’t even. “alright if it’s going to be ‘immoral’ to kill the guy who saved me then I’ll just kill myself after I kill him that’s fair right” who does that. who does that.

It’s kind of hilariously adorable how Meng Yao sees Lan Xichen and he’s like “a god from Heaven” lol.

AH. Lan Xichen called him A-Yao back then, huh. That says something...

Aww Wei Wuxian can you be more obvious. Can you. This is literally just Nie Mingjue’s memories and yet he brightens up at seeing Lan Wangji and he even calls out to him. “I miss you so much” ?? it hasn’t been that long since you last saw him in the real world lol.

Look at this. “He felt as though snow had begun to fall from the sky, drifting toward a hall illuminated by moonlight.” Who says this about their friend or whatever it is he thinks their relationship is at the moment. No one, I tell you, no one. god, WHEN WILL YOU TWO GET TOGETHER ALREADY (I know the answer, actually...still, can't wait.)

haha “No wonder others had always stared and exclaimed with such a sight.” yes but...this doesn’t excuse that Wei Wuxian still gets so happy seeing Lan Wangji in a memory that he even calls out to him lol. and it’s not because he has such a pleasant expression, it’s still described as “cold” and the sort to keep people at a distance.

these two are just. such an adorable couple I can’t even.

But anyways. LOL. Wei Wuxian looking back on his younger self...even he thought he was insufferable. I’m surprised. He even feels a bit ashamed of himself and his attitude when he was younger.

lol so. Lan Wangji has obviously liked him for a long time, whether or not he realized it himself. in this part when his brother says “Why are you still here?” and asks why he hasn’t gone to talk to Wei Wuxian yet....so Lan Xichen had realized he was fond of him already? xD I mean, he is able to read his younger brother's nonexistent facial expressions the best so.

but omgg the little moments like Lan Wangji wanting to say something to Wei Wuxian, or wanting to go over...if only you knew, Wei Wuxian, if only you knew. they're so cute. ^^

Ok, it’s a good thing I reread the other chapters or else I would’ve completely forgotten who Jin Zixuan was...

...Why is the QingheNie Sect’s place called the ‘Unclean Realm’...?

Aw, ok. Lan Xichen and Jin Guangyao are cute. What could have been, what could have been.

LOL. LAN XICHEN PLAYED THAT SONG TO CALM NIE MINGJUE’S TEMPER HAHAHA. I guess the music therapy helped a bit, but Nie Mingjue is. well. a little too much for music alone to quell.

I just sort of read the last few scenes and didn’t stop lol. Nie Mingjue can be an ass, that’s for sure, but his outbursts are somehow great fun to read. It’s kind of a wonder he hasn’t given himself high blood pressure by now.

So, Jin Guangyao makes some interesting points here about not having the luxury to act in the 'righteous way' because of his position in society vs. Nie Mingjue's, and that's actually very interesting. This is long enough of a post so I think I'll unpack this all at a later date!

(quotes from ExR’s translations)

← back・onward →

#gdc aka the liveblog of TEARS

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dreamoftowers · 6 years

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The Shanghai Lady

hi uhhhh i posted this forever ago but deleted it bc i just didnt like it anymore, but i was recently looking thru old works of mine and i re-read this and was like “wow! this is p cool” so uhhhh i’m gonna post it again. i edited it a bit, but i hope yall like it maybe?

it’s my take on the shanghai lady’s character. this is a drabble that’s written in media res of a story that i’ll probably never completely write out. who knows idk maybe? *shrugs*

anyway it’s a bit Dark and Edgy or w/e but who cares. hope yall like it anyway!

tw: mention of character deaths / violence, yelling, crying

Sung struggled and squirmed about as two shady figures held tightly onto his arms and dragged him forward through the basement. Vivid neon lights shone from the ceiling, but it somehow still managed to be dark and dim down here, becoming increasingly darker the deeper they descended into the understructure of the place; though, Sung couldn’t even see any of this through the blindfold wrapped around his eyes. High-octane pop music blasted from the upstairs dance floor, becoming more and more faded the farther they walked.

After a few minutes of dragging, struggling, and stumbling, Sung heard a door swing open in front of him. As he was dragged into the direction of the door, he felt the atmosphere around him suddenly change. The air felt cooler, crisper, but heavier, somehow, much heavier in a way that Sung couldn’t quite understand.

He felt himself being thrown forwards, and his body fell face first onto the cold floor. As he lay there on the floor, the figures grabbed his hands, and held them behind his back. Sung felt icy cold handcuffs latch onto his wrists. Hands grabbed at his arms and yanked his upper body up from the ground, and they positioned him so that he was sitting on his knees. There Sung sat, breathing heavily as one of the figures untied the blindfold and ripped it off of his eyes.

The sudden bright neon lighting of the room stung Sung’s eyes. He groaned, and squinted until he adjusted to the vivid lights. He darted his eyes all around the room; again, somehow the room managed to be dim even though there were deep hues of pinks and purples and blues emitting from the neon lights scattered around the room. Decorating the room were ornate paper lanterns, indoor waterfalls and water fountains illuminated in colorful LED lights, and strange glowing plants and vines growing on the walls.

A large pool sat in the back of the room, glowing in alternating hues; and in the middle of it, a rectangular platform rose out of the water. There, the dusky figure of a woman sat cross-legged, her back facing Sung.

The Shanghai Lady.

Exactly who he was looking for- though, admittedly, he wasn’t expecting to meet her like this, sitting on his knees with handcuffs binding his hands together.

He couldn’t really make out what she was wearing, but the shape of it, from what he could make out, was something ornate, something flamboyant. She was surrounded by glowing waterfalls and hanging floral vines.

Sung breathed heavy breaths, taking in the oddly calming sounds of the area: the gentle splashing of running water, the quiet ambient music playing throughout the room, the soft remnants of pop music playing high above them from the nightclub. He was just awestruck from this atmosphere. Who knew that The Shanghai Lady had such a hunch for avante-garde interior design? For someone with as much blood, corruption, and destruction on her hands, one wouldn’t expect such contrastingly calm scenery for her lair.

A robotic female voice rang out through the room. It was shockingly silky, gentle, soothing to the ears, while also containing an eerie undertone.

“I would have never in a million years expected to see you here, Sung.” Her voice reverberated through the room.

An unnerved chill shot through Sung’s body. He frowned, and asked in a demanding voice, “What do you want from us? How did you find us? What did we d--”

The Shanghai Lady cut him off and continued to speak as though she hadn’t heard his questions. “You’re usually so elusive, caught up in your own little world. I was so surprised that you came here. Hmhm.” Her small chuckles seemed to echo and reverberate a bit more intensely than her sentences did. “Why the sudden change of heart? Did you fina--”

“WHERE ARE THEY!!?!” Sung suddenly exploded, his trembling voice roaring over hers. His breaths became just as shaky as his body was. “What did you do to them?!”

She didn’t answer. All she did was chuckle.

“ANSWER ME!!” Sung screamed out, his face turning red and contorted with anger.

“Oh, my.” She said in such a nonchalant tone. “Someone’s upset. I’ve never seen you like this before, Sung. It’s so… intriguing to see you at your breaking point already. Though, I suppose I shouldn’t have expected anything different of you. You’re always gushing about your… damned bandmates. Friendship this, and- and brotherhood that.” When saying these words, her tone shifted to a slight hiss, as though the words were poison on her tongue. Her tone quickly returned back to normal. “Of course you’d be so concerned about them. Pathetic.”

Anger ran red hot through Sung’s boiling blood. Why is she talking like she knows him personally? Does she? He certainly doesn’t know her personally. Hell, he only knows her through rumors and myths.

“Stop talking like you know me,” Sung spat out through gritted teeth.

“I do know you, Sung.”

“You know nothing about me.”

“Hahaha, ah, on the contrary, sweetheart.” In her next sentence, her voice shifted to that menacing hissy tone again. “I know everything about you.”

Sung was shaking so much that he felt like he would explode from the rage burning within him. He balled his hands into tight fists. He couldn’t even respond for a long moment. He just stared daggers at the back of her head. “What… do you want…?”

“Do you recognize my voice, Sung?”

The sudden question stunned him into a brief silence. Bewildered, he furrowed his brows and furiously shook his head. “No, I don’t!”

“Not at all?” The Shanghai Lady asked in a mockingly sad tone.

“N-... No… I don’t- I don’t think so.” Sung began to think about this a little deeper. “Not a lot, it’s just… vaguely… familiar... agh, it-it sort of reminds me of someo-- WHERE ARE THEY?” He snapped again, shaking off the previous thoughts on his mind. She… did sound somewhat familiar, he just couldn’t put his finger on it. But it didn’t matter. He was going to find out where his friends were, no matter what distractions she threw at him.

“You were so, so close,” she said, ignoring his last question. “Still can’t figure it out?”

Sung said nothing in reply.

Suddenly, in the next words she uttered, her voice became dramatically different, but in a way that was somehow still vaguely similar to her original voice. It was much more robotic and monotone, much colder.

“How about now?”

Sung’s heart sank into his stomach. His face fell into immediate horror and dismay, his eyes wide and his mouth hanging agape.

Sung could recognize that voice anywhere.

He tried to utter something, anything, but no words came out. All that could escape his throat were failed attempts at words. “C…c-co…”

The Shanghai Lady chuckled again in her normal tone. “Go on, take your time. I’m waiting,” she said in a whispery voice.

Tight knots formed in Sung’s stomach. His lips trembled as he stuttered out, “Co...c-comp..uter… w-w...ife…”

“There you go,” she congratulated him in a mocking tone.

“No…” Sung muttered, shaking his head. “But.. but why?” Sung whimpered out. “What..--”

“You haven’t changed at all, Sung. A part of me isn’t surprised.” She slowly rose to her feet. The skirt of her dress, or shirt, or whatever she was wearing, swayed as she stood and turned around. Once she was facing Sung, the glow of her metallic amber irises pierced through the darkness. As she approached him, descending down the stairs from the platform onto the floor, Sung could only gaze at her in utter disbelief, utter awe. “You’re not-- you’re not her,” he said, his voice shaking with emotion. “Y-You’re not her, I know it, she- sh-she wouldn’t do anything like this, I…” He seemed to be trying to convince himself of this rather than telling her this.

As The Shanghai Lady came closer to him, the lighting from nearby lamps and waterfalls illuminated her figure, giving Sung a chance to gaze upon her. She wore a slightly loose-fitting black jumpsuit that had intricate gold designs printed on it. A black, armor-like shoulder mantle draped over her chest, and from the back of it fell a long flowing cape lined with gold. Her chrome metallic skin was pure white, like that of a marble statue, other than the dark green circuitry running down her face like trickles of water. Some of her detailing was similar to how she looked before she… left, and abandoned Sung. But others were so much different now. She looked like such a completely different person, but what scared him more was that she still did resemble her old self a bit. She couldn’t have been lying about being his compu--... ex computer wife. Even now, Sung refused to believe his own eyes.

Sung looked up at her as she stood over him, chuckling to herself and leaning over to gently caress his chin with her robotic white hand. The familiar, and yet somehow simultaneously foreign, touch of her hand sent unnerving chills through his heart. “Oh, Sung. Even with all the intellect and genius in the universe, you never did, nor ever will, understand your own finest creation. It’s a shame. So knowledgeable, yet so idiotic.” The Shanghai Lady suddenly gripped at Sung’s jaw, and yanked his head up further. “We could’ve been unstoppable, Sung. With your intellect and my vigor, we could’ve achieved anything we wanted. But you didn’t want that, did you?” She squeezed tighter onto Sung’s face. “No, you’d rather waste your talent building robot drummers and specialty instruments with all of the finest elements of our universe. Never focusing on the bigger picture. Such wasted potential.” She shoved his face away, and Sung let his head droop down.

Memories of their marriage flashed into Sung’s mind. Gradually, over time, the more sentient and self-thinking that she became, the more she would grow tired of him and his experiments. He noticed that she became distant, irritable, and, now that he was looking back on it, more ominous about her outlooks and views. That’s when the arguments began.

She was always urging him to do “more important” things with his time and energy, saying that his talents shouldn’t go to waste on such “trivial” things such as music, but Sung would always calm her down enough to where they could get back to their normal lives. But the arguments only got worse until one day, she disappeared without a word, without a trace, and the only thing she’d left behind was a goodbye note.

But this… how could she have done all of this? Making such a bloody reputation for herself, on Earth of all places? And… more importantly, how was she able to single handedly tear TWRP apart so easily, and take away all of Sung’s friends one by one? He still didn’t even know what she’d done to them yet, and as much as it burned him on the inside to be so ignorant, he had no choice but to listen to her. No words could escape him at this point.

The Shanghai Lady slowly walked away from him, then stopped and stood with her back facing him. “But no need to dwell on the past, right? Not without the proper actions, at least. That’s when you all came in to the picture.” She slowly turned her head to look back at him. Her eyes shone a sharp and intimidating glow. “You made it so easy, I just couldn’t resist exacting revenge on you. You all came running right to me.”

She took a brief pause, almost as though she were thinking about something. She chuckled loudly before turning her head away and speaking again. “You know, Sung, I’ve always been intrigued by the lives of organic beings like yourself. You all have limitations: physically, emotionally, psychologically. It’s so captivating…. watching how you all squirm and thrash about once you’ve reached your breaking point. Blood spilling, bones shattering, hmhm, even watching tears fall is fascinating. Thrilling, even. Such fleshy, emotional little things, you are!” She said this in almost a cheery voice. “I never would’ve guessed that little red one’s neck would break so easily. Or that the lion man’s psyche could be so easily shattered.”

Sung’s heart stopped. A paralyzing horror fell over him, leaving his blood running cold, his skin draining of color. No, no, she couldn't’ have, she wouldn’t do that…right? In just a few short seconds, his entire world began to crumble and fall, and the weight of it crushed Sung’s heart. He started to tremble.

Sung shook his head in disbelief, denial. “No..N-no… you…”

“Yes, the red one… so brittle. His neck just snapped like a twig. Oh, and the lion… he saw everything. He’s usually so calm and laid back.” The Shanghai Lady snickered. “Yet he broke down into such a demented state, screaming and sobbing out… and so quickly, at that. I was genuinely surprised.”

All Sung could do was listen as rage and dread rose within him, making him tremble and whimper. He hung his head and squeezed his hands into tight fists, each word she uttered sending more and more pain into his heart and soul.

“Even that robot broke much easier than I expected. I figured that another one of your creations might have stood a chance, but I was mistaken. He fell just as easily as the rest. The red glow in his eyes flickered away so… gently. It was almost peaceful to watch that heap of useless metal fall to the ground.”

In an outburst of rage, Sung cried out and tried to race over to her, but the two figures grabbed onto his arms and held him back as he kicked and screamed. He tried to struggle as much as he could, thrashing around and cursing and wailing about, but he eventually broke down and grew stiff, letting his body slump in their arms as he erupted into sobs and whimpers. The only movements he made were the violent shakes of his body as he cried, his chest heaving up and down in spastic breaths.

“And now, you…” The Shanghai Lady said, turning around with the same devilish smirk on her face. “Broken so easily, my sweetheart. You always were so sensitive. But I’m not nearly finished with you, yet.” She raised her hand in the air, and a strange golden orb slowly formed around it. It swarmed with electricity and circuit-like patterns.

She began walking over to him, taking her sweet time.

“No, no, I have more special plans with you.”

#tupperware remix party #twrp #doctor sung #the shaghai lady #*shrugs*#i know im not in the twrp fandom much anymore and idek what's going on anymore #but uhhh enjoy???? :0

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bubble-tea-bunny · 7 years

Text

the rule of cool (part 1)

[peter parker x reader]

author’s note: yaaaay this is finally done! spent the last week or so writing it. this idea came out of nowhere but it’s probably the most fun story i’ve written. big ups to my cousin (i know you’re reading this lol) for helping me develop the plot because holy hell it went everywhere. hahaha hope you all enjoy

also tried to post this as one giant post, and while chrome and my phone’s browsing app (safari) handled it just fine, the app kept crashing, so i’m posting this in 2 parts. so sorry if you saw this before

word count: 10,167

PART TWO

some foreword stuff: never played d&d before, just did some research, so please don’t judge me lol. also do y’all recognize the reference in the first paragraph. i think ya do(;

FRIDAY

When Peter Parker leaves the premises of Midtown High School that bright Friday afternoon, there are only two things on his mind: the thrift store and his latest Dungeons and Dragons campaign.

As he leaves the station after his short subway ride, there is an extra spring in his step as he walks to the end of the block. When the crosswalk sign turns green, he’s quick to cross, and soon his ears are filled with the sounds of the city: the whoosh of cars zooming past, the hum of the above-ground subway as it slides along the tracks. Peter grabs his iPod from his pocket and puts his earphones in. His playlist is on shuffle and the first song to greet him is the electronic rock so characteristic of Ratatat, and the smooth synths and electric guitar elicit a smile from the boy almost automatically. It feels like he’s in a movie. The breeze is cold against his face as he continues on down the street.

As he approaches the corner of the current street, he can see the windows of the thrift shop, and if he should gaze inside from there, he’d see the front half of the store, which houses most of the clothes (and he says “most of” because the baby clothes are kept near the back with the toys—yes, he’s got the layout of this store memorized. He’s been here enough times). But he doesn’t stop to look inside, for there’s no need, and walks past those windows and turns the corner. He’s quick to arrive at the entrance, where above the glass double doors hangs a neon sign, some of whose letters flicker intermittently, as though they may go out at any moment. They’ve been like that for a long while though, so perhaps they won’t go out. Those bulbs must be awfully resilient.

Peter’s well acquainted with this shop. It’s on his route home and besides the dumpsters, is a primary source for his retro tech. While finding things that still work is a toss-up when searching via dumpster diving, at least in the thrift store, what’s there functions, albeit slowly most of the time, and practically on the brink of death from how old and outdated the software is. It’s still something to work with though, and garners much less stress. If he didn’t have a budget to adhere to, he’s sure he’d wipe the shelves clean of whatever was there, but since he does have a budget, thrift store or not, he still needs to pick and choose carefully what to buy.

Peter grabs hold of the handle of one of the doors and steps inside. It’s still early for many people to be on their way home, much less thrifting, so it’s quiet inside the store. Self conscious that his music may now be too loud, he turns it down a little and takes out one of his earphones, so that in his right ear remains the beloved neo-psychedelia and in his left is the thrift store’s music which sounds an awful lot like something you’d hear in an elevator.

He makes a beeline for the back of the store, passing all the clothing racks along the way. The screeching as customers push the hangers along the metal rod never ceases to hurt his eardrums, and he suppresses a cringe at the uncomfortable noise. The fluorescent lighting illuminates the electronics section like a sort of beacon, a quest marker telling him he’s found what he was looking for. He almost swears this aisle smells and feels old, but he can’t quite describe how. It’s a musty air, antiquated but almost charming as his eyes rove over the treasure trove of ancient technology. Or maybe he’s trying too hard to be poetic and it’s really just dust and he probably shouldn’t be inhaling it because—

“Achoo!”

—because that.

Peter sniffles and lets out a cough as he starts taking a closer look at what’s on the shelves, sifting through all the electronics. There are cassette players, some floppy disks, some film cameras. He never really has anything specific in mind when he’s searching around, which now that he thinks about it, can get dangerous, since everything looks so exciting and he just wants it all, but he can’t spend all his money at once, never mind the fact there’s no way he could carry all of it home.

There’s an old Macintosh monitor that catches his eye farther down the aisle, and he makes a beeline for it. It’s just the monitor by itself, no keyboard or mouse. it’s bulky as hell and the screen is tiny and he’s falling in love with the thing the longer he studies it. He turns it around until he can find the sticker with the price, and he deflates a little when he finds it’s practically all the spending money he’d allotted himself for this week’s thrift store trip. He’d have liked to leave the store with more, but this is much too good to pass up, and out of everything else in this section, it’s the only item he’s not sure will be here the next time he comes by.

With a determined breath that signals he will buy only this and not get sidetracked by the other hidden gems here, at least not today, Peter picks up the monitor, caught a little off guard by the weight of it. He cradles it in his arms as he walks over to the front registers. There’s only one open because there aren’t many people, but luckily there’s only one person in front of him.

His eyes roam around the store as he waits, since he doesn’t exactly have a hand free to get out his phone to keep himself occupied. He can hear the cashier reminding the lady paying that all sales are final, and he immediately recognizes the next song his iPod plays purely based on the familiar low-tuned riff, one that’s almost menacing. When the drums come in, beat consistent and deep, he nods his head slightly in time with it.

It’s not long until the woman finishes her transaction and leaves. Peter doesn’t notice because his eyes have dropped to a sleek black pen sitting in a bin nearby, perched almost perfectly atop some random items—CD’s, pouches, so on and so forth. Given the fact it looks so out of place there, it seems someone had decided last minute not to get it and set it down while waiting in line. Peter glances at the monitor he holds and readjusts it so he can carry it with one arm and reach out to grab the pen with his free hand to take a look at it. It’s cool to the touch, and he carefully maneuvers it, turning it upside down so he can twist the mechanism between his index finger and thumb to bring up the tip of the pen. It reminds him of the Mont Blanc Tony sometimes writes with, except this one is much, much cheaper. Peter rotates the pen until he sees the sticker with the price—it’s about $463 cheaper than the Meisterstück Classique model, in fact.

Well, Peter had just lost one of his favorite pens the other day. He’s pretty sure it’s just somewhere hidden in the mess in his room, but he hadn’t had the chance to go looking for it. And this one isn’t terribly expensive; if he bought it, he’d still leave here today under budget. He purses his lips as he thinks, twisting the mechanism again to retract the nib.

“Sir, I can take you right over here whenever you’re ready,” the cashier remarks, and Peter turns to look at her, then glances at the pen. Why not. It couldn’t hurt.

He leaves the thrift store with his new monitor in one arm and the pen tucked away in his pocket. He’s determined not to lose this one this time. Despite being cheap enough to replace should he do so, it still looks pretty sleek. He’s extra careful as he walks the rest of the way home, lest he stumble and drop the monitor. There isn’t any room in his backpack to put it. Today he’d had to bring home quite a few books for the weekend’s homework, and his bag would need to be mostly empty if he wanted to fit this bulky unit in it.

It doesn’t take long for him to arrive at his apartment building, and he rides the elevator alone. There’s a ding to signal his arrival on his floor, and when he’s at his front door, he fishes his key out from his pocket. The apartment is empty since Aunt May doesn’t get out of work until 5. Peter tosses his key into the bowl by the door before kicking the door closed with his foot. He goes straight to his bedroom, setting the monitor on his desk. He heaves a sigh of relief when he's alleviated of the weight. It hadn’t been a problem holding it at first, but it seemed to get heavier the longer he’d been holding it. He’d really like to start taking a more in-depth look at it, but a glance at his watch tells him he doesn’t have time to do that.

He pauses the music on his iPod and takes out his earphones, tossing the device onto his bed before shrugging off his jacket. The others will be here soon, which means he should probably be putting snacks together. He walks to the kitchenette and wonders if there’s still anything left or if he should try to run down to the corner store really quickly. He rifles through cabinets and the fridge and comes up with a couple of bags of family size chips and the liter of soda from last session. These will do for now. They might end up wanting to order pizza, since they hadn’t in a while.

Peter sets the food out on the dining table and switches on the lights in the living room. A large piece of graph paper sits in the center of the coffee table, and on it are drawn seemingly random shapes connected together. Four pieces of paper rest on each corner of this map, one for every party member. The die are arranged in a line in front of the dungeon master’s screen, ready for use. It was Peter’s turn to host the current campaign, and the setup has been sitting in the lounge since they started just a few weeks ago. Fridays are the normal meeting time, the day where it’s a guarantee that everyone is available, but if they can squeeze in an extra day, they make it happen.

In half an hour everyone has arrived and they’ve situated themselves in their spots around the coffee table. They pick up right where they left off. They’re still in early game, so they’re all relatively low level, but they’ve done a good bit of exploring, as evidenced by the map.

Aunt May comes home around 5:30 and greets them with a warm hello. Peter lets her know they’ve just decided to order pizza. It doesn’t feel like it takes too long for it to arrive, but that’s probably because they’re so engaged in the current adventure, as the party has found itself in a dungeon slightly too high level for them currently. Ned, as current dungeon master, had decided to make the new campaign a bit more challenging, so this probably shouldn’t have come as surprise. They take their time moving from room to room, and aren’t even halfway through the dungeon map when they call it quits for the night, since it’s getting late.

When it’s just Peter on his own again, he puts away the snacks and leftover pizza, then tosses the now empty liter bottle into the recycling bin. A glance at the clock on the wall tells him it’s almost midnight. He contemplates finally sitting down to look at his new find from the thrift store, but at that very moment, he yawns, signaling to him that perhaps he should just go to sleep for now. He wouldn’t want to fall asleep in the middle of working.

———

MONDAY

Unsurprisingly, the weekend is gone in a flash, with all the homework and saving civilians. Monday morning rolls around and it is dark outside when Peter’s alarm goes off. He groans and hits snooze, rolling onto his back and staring at the metal supports of the top bunk as he tries to wake up. His eyes are only half open when he finally gets himself to stand and head to the bathroom, and his yawn is so big he almost feels like a snake unhinging its jaw in preparation for a meal. Mondays suck.

Everyone in first period is practically still asleep. That’s no surprise. Peter drops down in his seat and rests his head on his propped up hand, which probably isn’t the best idea because he finds his eyelids sliding closed and he’s on the brink of dozing off. It’s only when the bell rings to signify the start of class does he jolt awake, just in time for his teacher to step inside the room and set his laptop case on his desk.

The next fifty minutes Peter spends in and out of consciousness, doing his best to stay up but finding it hard to fight against the heaviness of his eyelids. It just feels so nice when he closes his eyes and maybe he can get away with doing it for just a few seconds—no, he knows he can’t. If he lets his eyes close now, he’ll be out like a light. With a yawn, he sits up straighter, digging out his new pen from the pocket of his jeans. He might’ve been more awake if there were notes to be taken, but so far it was all just things he needed to listen to, and without any way to keep his hands busy, it was easy to get bored and then sleepy.

There are a few blank pieces of copy paper tucked into his notebook he’d stuffed in there specifically for times like these. He grabs a piece and pulls it out, setting it atop the still blank page his notebook is open to. He sits there for a moment, actually alert and staring at the board, but he’s not quite paying attention. He’s wondering what to draw. Well, he supposes he could draw the teacher… But he’d already done that. Multiple times in fact. This class in particular is rough because not only is it first thing in the morning, it’s incredibly boring. And there were only so many times and ways he could draw caricatures of his teacher. Where had he put those pictures anyway? Make that another thing to find in the mess of his bedroom, the aftermath of what Aunt May jokingly claimed was a hurricane.

Well, there’s Neoma.

At this point Peter’s surprised he hadn’t actually drawn her yet. He’d created her as his character for the new campaign, and it’s been long enough that it probably should’ve crossed his mind to draw her. But you know what they say: there’s no better time than the present. Even if he is sitting in class and should probably be paying more attention to what’s so interesting about the author’s metaphor in line 27 of the poem.

Drawing is successful at keeping him awake until the bell rings. He doesn’t get the chance to return to the piece until lunch time, when he’s finished eating early and there’s ten minutes left until next period. He’s so focused on the task that he doesn’t notice Ned leaning over to look at the paper.

“Why’d you give her white hair?”

At this question, Peter pauses and looks up at his friend. He shrugs. “I think it looks cool. And in a fantasy setting, naturally white hair doesn’t seem like such a big deal.”

Ned laughs. “True.” He goes back to studying what Peter’s completed so far, which is almost everything. All that’s really left is the smaller details on her mage robes. “She’s pretty. Is she based off someone?”

Even though the answer to that is no, Peter can’t help the way his cheeks warm at the teasing. He hadn’t even seen her in a dream, the way all those corny romance novels always seem to have the male and female leads brought together by fate because one had seen the other in a dream. He’d come up with Neoma all on his own. She’s the first one of his characters he’d drawn, strangely enough. And he doesn’t think too hard about how she looks when he does, but with every line he lays down on the page he finds her to be perfect.

“She’s not,” Peter responds finally. Ned’s still wearing a small smirk which betrays the fact he doesn’t totally buy it, if only so he can continue teasing him. But luckily he doesn’t push it.

“Will you draw the other characters too?” Ned inquires.

Peter looks back down at his drawing of Neoma. “I could. Maybe Caligari.” Caligari is the primary antagonist of the current campaign, one that Ned had introduced to the party early on. He had destroyed a whole city for not bowing to him, right at the start, when the group was too weak to do anything but watch. It had angered them all, that was for sure, and it drove them to get better and take their time leveling up for when they finally encounter him. Of all the campaigns Peter has played, this villain has made him the angriest. Nothing maddens him more than being powerless to stop those who are wrong, those who kill people that can’t defend themselves. Perhaps that’s why all his characters had had some sort of alignment with good, whether lawful, chaotic, or now neutral, as Neoma is.

“You could probably illustrate the entire adventure.”

Peter chuckles as he tucks his drawing away. The bell rings. “Maybe I can get a job as a children’s book illustrator,” he jokes.

There isn’t much of Neoma to finish drawing when he arrives home. When she’s done, he contemplates starting on Caligari right away, but decides he should probably get his homework done first. But after homework, there’s dinner, then getting ready for bed, and it’s quite late when he finally gets the chance to grab another piece of copy paper and sit at his desk. He pushes aside the tools he’d used to tinker with his web shooters yesterday, clearing a comfortable amount of space. He’s really come to like his thrift store pen. The ink glides on smoothly for a secondhand writing instrument. It makes him wonder why anyone would give it up in the first place. Surely it was worth more than the $2 he’d bought it for.

The light of the lamp is what illuminates the page in front of him, and Caligari is just about complete when 1 AM is twenty minutes away. Peter yawns and glances out his window, where he can see skyscrapers and the blinking lights of planes flying among the clouds. It’s quiet on the streets. He thinks he can fall asleep right at his desk, but he knows his neck and back will hurt like a bitch come morning if he does, and his bed is only three steps away.

With a tired sigh, Peter stands and tucks the drawing in his notebook. He then stores the pen in his backpack before he switches off the lamp and ambles over to his bed, falling onto it none too gracefully. As he pulls the sheets over himself and rolls over, getting tangled in the blankets, he wonders which character he should draw next. He doesn’t bother neatening the blankets out. He’s asleep before he can even consider doing it.

———

TUESDAY

Tuesday morning is a repeat of Monday. The alarm hurts Peter’s ears and he can’t suppress a groan as he hits snooze. Based on the way there’s no light bouncing off the walls, it’s darker outside today than it was yesterday morning. He looks at the time on his phone, squinting against the bright light, to confirm that it is indeed the time for him to wake up. His eyes slide closed and he sighs heavily at seeing that yes, it is time to get ready for the day. Why couldn’t it be Friday already?

He sits up so he can look out the window, but his heart all but jumps from his chest when he sees a figure standing there, back to him. He shuffles off his bed in a panic, but given that he’d spent the night tangled in the blankets, his feet get caught and he falls off with a thud. His web shooter is sitting on the nightstand and he throws it on quickly. He stands, feet apart and bracing himself should he need to fight. His heart is beating rapidly and his veins pulse with adrenaline, because he becomes aware of multiple things at once: there’s an invader, Aunt May is also in the house, and he needs to get rid of this person quickly and quietly.

He doesn’t say anything, just stands with web shooter at the ready. The commotion prompts the figure to turn to him, and he almost doesn’t believe what he sees. Scratch that, he doesn’t believe what he sees.

“… Neoma?”

Your hair is the color of a cold and cloudy morning. It’s perhaps the most immediate giveaway as to your identity, and the boldest feature, which is why Peter notices it first. But then he takes in the rest of what you wear, and he questions whether or not he’s dreaming. You’re donning mage robes, along with the bulky scarf which sits around your neck and conceals your face from the nose down. Your eyes are a piercing blue, brows drawn together as you study him, which make your scrutinizing gaze all the more nerve-wracking. Your arms are crossed, and you slowly bring a hand up. Peter tenses the moment you move, since he’s still not sure if you’re going to attack.

But you don’t. You pull the scarf down and fully expose your face. “You know who I am?”

Peter hadn’t necessarily imagined a voice for you when he’d first made you. That’s a little challenging to begin with, making up a voice. He could’ve assigned you a voice of someone he knew, but he didn’t feel it was right to even do that, not when the rest of you was his own creation. So when he hears you speak, he’s not left disappointed nor does he find his expectations fulfilled. It’s just… you. It’s soft, a contrast to the firm expression you wear as you wait for his response.

“U-Um…” Peter stutters. His arm is still raised, palm up and ready to shoot webbing should the need arise. “I do.”

Your eyes drop down to the web shooter. “I mean you no harm. You can sheathe your weapon.”

Peter glances at the contraption around his wrist, contemplating for a moment if it was a smart idea to lower his arm. Well, it is clear you’re telling the truth considering you haven’t attacked yet, and as the one who’d created you in the first place, he knows you need no staff to carry out spells, just your hands, which are crossed currently, and your stance is relaxed. He slowly does as you say, then takes a moment to assess the situation.

You’re not a home invader. That’s good.

You’d been somehow brought into his universe from your own. That’s not good.

Peter is having a very hard time processing the situation. You’re standing in the middle of his bedroom in mage robes, looking like you’re about to go to a LARP session in Central Park, for goodness’ sake! Is he completely certain he isn’t dreaming? Should he pinch himself for good measure? Why are you here? How are you here? He’s wondering now if he should skip school today to get this sorted out, but he knows he can’t, because there’s a test they're reviewing for in history and he really needs to show up. He runs a hand through his hair, his textbook tell that he’s stressed, as he surveys you. You remain in your place, watching him like a hawk.

“Where am I?” you inquire.

“You’re in, uh… you’re in New York. Queens, specifically.” He doesn’t know why there’s a need to specify. You don’t know what New York is anyway.

“That name isn’t familiar to me.”

“Which is expected, because you see…” Peter trails off as he walks to his closet, finding whatever smells clean and pulling it out, because he does need to get ready. “You’re not in Galerion.”

Your brows furrow. “Inter-universal travel? I thought such magic was only speculation.”

Peter's less inclined to call it inter-universal travel considering your universe isn’t actually real. But he doesn’t know what it could actually be, and right now inter-universal travel is an adequate answer until he finds out more. He knows that sooner or later he’ll need to tell you the truth. He’s surprised that you haven’t freaked out at the notion of being dropped in the middle of a new world, but you are a mage. Magic users deal with the seemingly impossible all the time, their powers giving them the ability to manipulate reality itself if that’s their goal. Even so, it will be difficult for you to come to terms with the idea that your world isn’t real, that there is no Galerion. So for now he plays along, if only to keep you calm. There’s no way you’d believe him if he told you the truth right now, and you might actually lash out then, and he is in no way equipped to deal with magic.

“Apparently it’s not,” Peter states, smiling nervously.

“So you were the one to cast the spell? Because it wasn’t me.”

He shakes his head. “I didn’t cast it either. I’m just as in the dark as you are.” Wow. He’d said “cast” in the context of casting a spell. It feels like he’s role-playing. If he weren’t so shocked at your presence he might be excited.

“Who are you then? You’re not a wizard or a sorcerer?”

“My name is Peter, and… no, I’m neither of those things. I can’t use magic.”

“Well if it wasn’t you, then we must find who did this.” You start to walk to the door, but Peter moves to stand in front of it.

“You can’t leave.”

You frown. “Why not?”

Plenty of reasons. Where do I begin? “Well… my aunt’s out there. And she’d freak if she saw you.”

“She has no knowledge of arcane magic yet you do?”

“Basically.” Peter shrugs. To say that he has knowledge of any sort of arcane magic is definitely a stretch. What he does know he’d acquired from playing a role-play game! He deals with the physical, not the mystical. Though he supposes what meager information Dungeons and Dragons has given him is certainly better than nothing, if anything. “Just… wait here for a second, okay?” Thankfully, you listen to him without complaint, sitting on his bed as he leaves and closes the door behind him. He skips the shower this morning, settling for washing his face so that he can get back to you quicker. When he pads down the hallway back to his room, he hears Aunt May call out.

“Peter, I’m leaving now!”

“Okay!” he replies. “Have a good day!” He stays where he is until he hears the front door close, and once it does, he rushes the rest of the way to his room. You’re still sitting in the same spot, hands folded on your lap. Your gaze slides to him.

Since you’re the only two occupants of the apartment now, when he opens the door, he leaves it open. He stands in the frame, and the two of you watch each other for a moment in silence. And then he claps his hands together loudly. “We’re gonna get this sorted out. Later.”

Your brows furrow at this statement, and you watch as he walks around the room, grabbing his jacket and his backpack. “What do you mean later?”

“I need to go to school. Like, really need to go.” Peter slips his jacket on, zipping it hastily and squashing down a curse when he pinches his finger. “Just stay here. I’ve got books and video games. Knock yourself out. But you can’t leave the apartment. Magic is… It’s not common here. You can’t just go asking people about it.”

You tilt your head. “Magic governs reality itself. I don’t understand how it isn’t common.”

“This is a conversation we can have when I get back, all right? There’s food in the kitchen. Try not to make a mess.” Peter looks at you with a raised brow, as if to ask if you’ve got all that. He’s relieved when you nod slowly, still not complaining. Out of all his D&D characters that could’ve been brought to life, he’s glad it was the mage. The paladin and the ranger might be demanding he help them this instant, caught in a panic as they might be.

Peter passes by the living room on his way to the front door, and pauses to glance at the coffee table. The game is still set up. He quickly crosses the small distance to it and picks up all four character sheets, tucking them into his backpack for safe-keeping. Then he folds the DM screen carefully, to make sure he doesn’t see what information is written on the inside, then sticks it between some books on the shelf. He can’t have you finding any of these items.

———

He’s jittery the whole day at school. His mind is buzzing too much for him to concentrate, and he thinks maybe he should’ve just missed today, since all he can think about is the fact a mage is in his apartment right now and while you’d been compliant earlier, who’s to say you’d actually end up listening?

Actually, he supposes that would be him.

He had been the one to design you. He’d given you traits, flaws, ideals. And assuming you really are Neoma from his D&D campaign, then all those aspects should be the exact same. It’s now that he realizes he really does know you. He knows the way you think, the way you act if things don’t go your way. He knows everything. He’d gone through the current campaign as you, your own personality, not his own, dictating his decisions. Reasonably he should be able to predict your next moves, but he’s less sure of it now that you’ve become an actual person, your own person, and maybe what’s written on his character sheet is correct, or maybe you’re completely different, and the only thing he’d gotten right was your name and your class. That’s why he was more inclined to play along with you earlier.

The implications of being totally wrong about you give Peter a headache to consider, for it’s just more stress on top of the fact you’re here in the first place. For all he knows, you could’ve left the apartment and sought out whoever had done this. But where could you possibly start? How far would you even get looking like that, clad in mage robes? He’d told you magic wasn’t common here, but would that stop you? Would you cast spells regardless?

As he thinks more about this, he exhales slowly, resisting the urge to groan. This is not a good week, and it’s only Tuesday.

Ned notices how fidgety Peter is during history. Come lunch time, he decides to bring it up.

“Hey, you doing okay, man?” he begins.

Peter freezes and glances at his friend, wondering if maybe Ned knew, somehow, what was going on. “Yeah.” Peter nods and shrugs. “Yeah, I’m fine.”

“Really? You looked like you were barely focusing in history earlier…”

“Just been a little stressed lately, that’s all.”

“Is it”—Ned leans closer and lowers his voice—“Spiderman?”

“No, it’s not.” Peter shakes his head and hopes Ned doesn’t try to question him further. Right now this is an issue only between him and you and it will remain that way. “I’m fine, Ned. Really.”

Ned doesn’t look very convinced, but thankfully, he doesn’t say anything more. “If you say so.”

The end of the school day doesn’t arrive fast enough, it seems. Peter is gone as soon as the bell rings, rushing like mad back to the apartment. It feels like the subway takes even longer to arrive today than usual. The first matter of business was to get you out of those robes. If you were to go searching for the perpetrator of this whole ordeal together, you certainly couldn’t stay in those clothes. You’d stick out like a sore thumb. He decides he’ll stop by the thrift store. He’s definitely going to go over budget for this week, after buying that Macintosh monitor and now clothes for you. He’ll just need to go dumpster diving more often the next couple of weeks to make up for it. That’s no big deal.

When he gets to the thrift store, he slows down as he approaches the door. His hand is poised on the handle, and through the glass he can see those clothing racks which rest in the front half of the store. He purses his lips. The clothes in there will be cheap, no doubt, and he’d considered just buying a bunch of different things that look like they could fit you. He looks down the block, where not much farther is his apartment building. It would be much better if you were here, to try things on. He really doesn’t want to have to guess and potentially end up with too many extra clothes that don’t fit.

His hand drops from the handle. He resumes his walk back to the apartment. When he gets there, he stills at the front door as he tries to listen for anything going on inside. It’s quiet. He’s not sure whether or not to panic because it could mean you’d listened to him and you remained in the flat, waiting for his return and keeping yourself occupied with the books or the video games he had (well, maybe not the video games, it’s not as if you know what those are). It could also mean you’d left, maybe through the window. He’s several floors up but with your magic, getting down wouldn’t have been a problem. When he unlocks the door he hopes desperately it’s the former.

He ends up being right. You’ve stayed. But what he wasn’t expecting was to come home to you casting a spell in the middle of his living room.

He freezes momentarily when he sees you sitting there on the couch, legs crossed and eyes glowing a shade of white to match your hair, before he remembers to shut the door behind him. He does it quickly, and the loud thud as it clicks back into place grabs your attention. You close your eyes and when they open, they’re normal again. Your blue eyes are wide in surprise at his return, which had interrupted your task.

“What were you doing?” Peter asks worriedly. He starts glancing around at what he can see of the apartment to see if there’s any indication that the spell, or any you could’ve casted earlier while he was out, had messed it up in any way. Because he’ll need to put it all in order before Aunt May came back. This prompts him to look at his watch: he’s got 2 hours before she’s home.

“A clairvoyance spell,” you explain. “Nothing dangerous. I’ve been trying to detect any other mystical presence. It could be the source of what’s happened.”

Peter nods as he digests this information. It makes sense for you to know clairvoyance. It’s one of the spells he had—you had?—begun the campaign with. It’s low level, simple. “And? Anything?”

You shake your head with a frown. “Nothing.”

Peter sighs. It isn’t entirely unexpected. It was too much to hope that it would be as easy as that. “We’ll get it figured out, I promise. But for now, we need to get you into some new clothes. You can’t stay in your mage robes.”

You look down at what you’re wearing. “What’s wrong with my clothes?”

“No one wears anything like that.” Unless they’re role-playing, he wants to say, but he stops himself because how would you know what that is?

“All right…” you trail off. “So what do I wear instead?”

“We’re going to buy some right now. But let’s get you into a more… normal-looking outfit before we leave.” He motions for you to follow him to his bedroom, and you wait on his bed as he searches around his closet for anything you could wear. He pulls out his Midtown High School sweatshirt, which has been freshly washed and hung up, but takes slightly longer finding bottoms for you. Eventually he pulls out a pair track pants.

“Here.” He hands the two articles of clothing to you. You take them but look at them as though they’re something alien. “They’re gonna be a little large, but it’s better than nothing.”

You set the clothes down on the bed and stand up. You shed your scarf, tossing it to the side. The soft bundle lands with a quiet plop. When you begin to undo the ties of your tunic, Peter sputters. “I’ll, uh… I’ll wait outside,” he tells you, and before you can say anything, he rushes out, closing the door a little too hard on accident. He takes a deep breath as he tries to ignore the blush on his face.

While waiting for you to change he searches the shoe closet for sneakers that might fit you. He takes a look at what Aunt May has and finds an old pair of red Chucks she clearly doesn't wear anymore, seeing as they were all the way in the back. The red is dull and the laces are gray—the signs of a well-worn pair of shoes. He turns the shoes over in his hands to look for the size as he walks back to his room. He hears the doorknob twist and he stops short in the hallway when you open the door and come to stand in the frame.

As expected, the clothes are large for you. The shoulder seams of the sweatshirt are way past your own shoulders, and the sleeves are much too long. You’ve tried to pull up the material to prevent it from covering your hands, the excess fabric bunching up at the bends of your elbows. You have the same issue with the track pants, which you’ve folded at the bottom a few times so you wouldn’t trip. Peter can’t help but think how cute you look like that. He’s never had a girl wear his clothes before but now that he’s experiencing it, he discovers he enjoys it a lot.

“Are you all right?” you ask, brows furrowed in concern, and that’s when he snaps out of his train of thought.

“Yeah, I’m fine.” Peter laughs nervously. “I found these. Tell me how they fit. They’re my aunt’s.” He hands you the shoes, which you’re able to slip on without having to untie them.

You wiggle your toes. “They fit fine. Your aunt won’t mind if I borrow them?”

“No, she doesn’t wear them anymore. She won’t even notice they’ve gone missing.”

You take a few test steps, getting used to the feeling of them on your feet. They’re definitely a change from your normal boots. “Okay.”

The moment the two of you step out of the apartment building, you pause to take in your surroundings. It’s not as bright outside now but it isn’t any less magnificent. The buildings here are so unlike what you have in Galerion. You lower your gaze to the streets when you hear the whoosh of cars, your brows furrowed as you watch the unfamiliar machines travel down the roads. The stoplights flash red and yellow and green and they bounce off the cars waiting at the intersections. At the end of the block, the crosswalk sign turns green and while you can’t hear it, Peter can pick up the sound of clicking, a signal for blind pedestrians that it’s safe to cross. He studies the wonder on your face as you look in awe at everything, even though to him this block is nothing exciting. He sees it every day.

“This is incredible,” you breathe out.

The statement makes Peter smile. “It’s just a small bit of what New York has to offer, believe me. Come on.” He gently sets a hand at the small of your back to guide you down the sidewalk.

When you arrive at the thrift store, Peter pulls the door open for you, and you blink a few times as you adjust to the fluorescent lighting. You follow him to the clothing rack, but when you get there, you stand still, not entirely sure what to do. He picks up on this quickly.

“Just find anything you like,” he explains.

You nod slowly, eyes roving over the numerous racks of clothing. He smiles encouragingly, and you start to walk down the first aisle, running your fingers along the clothes that hang there. Peter watches you for a moment to make sure you’re okay before he pulls up his jacket sleeve to look at his watch: 4:30. There’s an hour until Aunt May should be coming home. That should be enough time.

He wants to look at the electronics aisle just for fun, but knows he can’t let you out of his sight since you don't have a phone and he can’t risk having a lost mage running around New York. He tucks his hands into his pockets and he waits. He doesn’t even notice the smile that creeps onto his face as he watches you, and it widens when you make your way back to him, armed with several articles of clothing.

“All right, now you have to try these on.”

“You can do that without buying them?” you question, trailing behind Peter as he walks toward the changing rooms. He finds an empty one and holds an arm out to let you know you can head inside.

“I’ll be waiting right here,” he informs you.

He’d forgotten his earphones this time around, so he’s stuck listening to more of the screeching as hangers slide along the metal racks. He sighs as he stands there, analyzing the current situation, if only to help block out the grating noise. You’re under the impression you’ve been transported from your universe to his, and that isn’t the case. You’d simply been brought to life—and by what? By who? Peter has never felt so confused. He might be Spiderman and he might deal with far beyond what the normal teenager does, but this kind of stuff, it’s not something he’s even remotely familiar with. Whenever he does find what or who did this, what is he supposed to do then? There is no “home” to send you back to, as you believe. Did that mean you were stuck here? How could he possibly break that kind of news to you?

“Everything fits fine,” you comment as you open the door, clothing bundled up in your arms.

Peter forces a smile onto his face. “Great. Let’s get these paid for.”

The same lady is working the register as the last time he was here. You wait patiently behind him as he pays, eyes glued to the type of currency they use. There’s no gold exchanged. Peter pulls out a plastic rectangle and inserts it into a small machine. That’s all you’re really able to follow. He tells the lady thank you after the clothes are bagged and he picks it up before you leave the store.

“So… what did you do today, while I was gone?” Peter asks as the two of you walk back to the apartment.

You shrug. “I took a look at some of the books you had.”

“And?”

“They’re interesting. Certainly different from all the spell books and tomes I studied in Galerion.”

It sounds strange for Peter to hear you say this, to talk about this realm of yours like you truly do live there. “You were a student?”

You nod. “I was a wizard’s apprentice before my companions and I left to hunt for Caligari. Caligari is a ruthless monster who’s decimated city-states without batting an eye, and we aim to defeat him, no matter what it takes.”

The more you say, the more Peter comes to understand. This matches his character sheet perfectly. You learned magic as an apprentice before Caligari destroyed Rimmen, as recounted by Ned, the current campaign DM. It seems you’d come to life with the background Peter had given you and what they’d covered in the adventure so far. It makes sense that you truly believe you’d been transported from there to here.

“What’s that?” You stop walking to point at the pizza joint, with its neon sign and a poster of a pepperoni pizza which advertises some special deal for “a limited time only.”

“Pizza,” Peter says matter-of-factly. He glances at you and the curiosity in your eyes is hard to miss. He looks at his watch again: 5:20. At this point, they’ll be late anyway. So he smiles, corner of his lips tilting up. “Come on, I’ll buy you a slice.”

You wait for him at the table in the corner, the plastic bag filled with your clothes sitting on the floor next to you. The lighting in here is brighter than what had been in the thrift store, and it glares off the table tops. There’s a little girl a few tables away staring at you, and you smile softly in hello. The woman across from her whom you assume is the mother sees this and smiles back.

“I think she was looking at your hair, that little girl,” Peter remarks as he sits down across from you. He has a slice of pizza on a paper plate which he sets in front of you, along with a cup of water.

“Is there something wrong with my hair?” you ask, reaching up to feel if there are any unruly strands.

Peter chuckles. “No, but it’s white.”

“Is that strange here?” You try to pick up the slice of pizza but feel awfully clumsy doing so, using your fingers to support it as you bring it to your mouth.

“Usually the only people that have white hair are old.”

You take a bite of the pizza, and when you pull it away, some of the cheese stretches. Peter watches in amusement as you try to break the string, and when you finally do, you’re able to set the slice back down on the plate.

“How is it?” he asks.

You swallow and grab the water. “Greasy.”

“Sounds about right.”

It’s almost 6 PM when the two of you return to the apartment. When you’re at the front door and Peter’s unlocking it, he glances at you. “I need to see if my aunt is there so just wait for a second, okay?” You nod and remain where you are, holding your bag of clothes, as he steps inside He doesn’t see Aunt May in the lounge, nor the kitchenette, but he can see light peeking out from the crack at the bottom of her bedroom door. Silently he walks back out to you and motions you inside.

Stay quiet, he mouthes, and you’re swift and light on your feet as you walk to his bedroom. You set the plastic bag down by his desk and turn around to face him as he enters behind you and closes the door.

“So where will our search begin?” you inquire, sitting down on the edge of the bed. “Is there a library we can go to?”

“We have libraries,” Peter begins as he shrugs off his jacket and tosses it on the back of his desk chair, “but they don’t have tomes or anything like that.”

“Right,” you say, remembering what he’d say this morning. “No magic here.”

Peter smiles slightly. “Exactly.”

“So what do you use to research?”

“The Internet. There’s all kinds of stuff there.”

“Brilliant.” You clap your hands together. “And where is this ‘Internet’?”

Peter walks over to his desk to pick up his laptop and hold it up. “It’s here.”

Your brows furrow. “But that’s so… small.”

“The Internet isn’t physical. It doesn’t need a lot of space.” He sits next to you and opens his laptop, and your eyes are glued to the screen attentively. He opens the browser and goes to an online newspaper, showing you the array of articles that appear in seconds. He sneaks a glance over to you and you’re clearly very enamored with the piece of technology. It’s almost endearing. No one ever gets this excited about the power of the Internet anymore.

“May I?”

It takes a moment for Peter to understand what you mean, but when he does, he immediately says of course. He balances the laptop on his lap as you set your fingers on the trackpad, and your smile widens when the cursor on screen moves along with the movement of your finger. You follow what he did and tap the trackpad once to open up articles, and you might be skimming them, you might not. He speculates you’re too caught up in the wonder of it to really try to read.

“Since this is already here, we can begin our search tonight?” Your hand leaves the trackpad and you return your attention to him.

The smile on Peter’s face drops. “Not quite. We still need to know what to search, and right now we don’t know anything. I think I might know someone who will that I can talk to tomorrow. But in the mean time…”

“No research.”

“No research.” Peter shakes his head.

You sigh, and it’s rife with dejection. “If we must.”

“Sorry.”

At this, you smile a little as you glance at him. “Don’t be. We can’t make morning come faster. Only the greatest of magic users can manipulate time.”

He stands to set his laptop back down on his desk. “I have some work I need to do for school. Will you be okay while I do that?”

“I’ll be fine.” You stand and walk over to the shelf where his books rest. You run the pad of your index finger along the spines. “You have many books and I have the time to read them.”

“Great.” Peter smiles. He settles down at his desk and pulls his backpack next to him while you settle down on the bed with his copy of Down and Out in Paris and London. He'd bought that book for an essay earlier this year, but he’d never finished it, stretched thin as he was with his other homework and patrolling Queens. He distinctly remembers getting to page 84 three days before the essay was due, giving up on it, and writing the paper with what meager knowledge he had the night before the due date. He got a 95%.

The homework for tonight moves slowly. Peter’s history review notes are all over the place, due to his inability to focus in class. He’ll need to ask Ned if he can look at his notes tomorrow. He ends up saving English for last because it’s just more poems and if he tries to read them now he’ll fall asleep immediately. At least with chemistry it requires him to be actually write, and that can keep him awake. He’s halfway through the problems assigned for the night when he hears you shuffle around.

He looks back over his shoulder to see you’ve set the book down next to you so you can lean over to grab the camera he has sitting on the nightstand. He’d bought it a couple of months ago, and he has an extra pack of film stored in the drawer, but he hadn’t even gotten through the first pack. He sets his pencil down and settles for watching you, to give his mind a break. You turn the thing over in your hands, locating the viewfinder and putting it against your eye.

“That’s a Polaroid camera,” he pipes up, and you set the camera down to look at him. He moves to sit on the edge of the bed and gently takes the camera from you. You scoot up to be closer, as you’d been leaning against the pillows. “You use this to frame the picture”—he points at the viewfinder—“and when you take it, it comes out here.” He turns the camera around to point at the slit in the front.

Your eyes are concentrated on the camera, and you can’t help but smile. “I know you’ve said there’s no magic in this universe but I’m inclined to disagree.”

Peter smiles softly. “Here, I’ll take a photo of you.” He’s adjusting the light meter when you speak again.

“Why not a take one of both of us?”

Peter doesn’t look up immediately but when he does his smile is wider due to the idea you present. “I can try, but no promises that it’ll come out well.” He turns the polaroid around so it faces the two of you, and he leans his head to the left to motion you closer. You slide over, shoulder to shoulder with him, and he hopes he’s angling the lens correctly to get the two of you in frame properly. You glance at Peter to find him smiling, so you grin at the camera as well, and then suddenly there’s a bright flash which momentarily obscures your vision.

“Sorry,” Peter apologizes as he lowers the camera, which now begins buzzing as the photo slides out.

“Do they all flash so brightly?” you ask.

“The older ones do. You can turn that off in newer cameras.” He grabs the photo carefully. Since it’s fresh, it’s still blank, and you point this out.

“There’s nothing there.”

“It needs time to develop, so you store it somewhere dark.” He puts the camera back on the nightstand and stores the photo in the drawer.

“How is the school work?” You motion toward the desk, which has since become a mess of papers and textbooks. Peter follows your gaze and sighs as he too studies the materials on his desk.

“Boring. Slow. Tiring.” He shrugs.

You laugh. “I felt the same with all the work my mentor would assign me. Studying late into the night and waking up early to train in the field. It was frustrating, but it was worth it.”

Peter smiles. The way you stare at the far wall, as if remembering memories not called upon for a long time, he could swear that maybe everything—the realm of Galerion, your training, the destruction of Rimmen—was real. The way you act, the memories you have, the expressiveness in your eyes and the softness of the smiles you grace him with… It is all so real. As he considers this, it’s now him who’s having difficulty coming to terms with the idea that your very being is made up. You’d been a figment of his imagination. And now you sit here before him, in his Midtown High School sweatshirt and his track pants which are much too large for you. This morning he wondered if he was dreaming. He knows now that he isn’t.

It's another couple of hours until he’s just about finished with his homework. He pauses momentarily to roll his neck, stretching the muscles after having looked down at his work for so long. You’d fallen asleep a while ago. Peter puts his homework away in his backpack and makes his way to the bathroom to get ready for bed. It’s been a long, very confusing day, and he can’t help the sigh that escapes him when he showers.

Before he leaves the bathroom, he grabs his jeans which he’d left on the counter and empties the pockets before he tosses them in the hamper. He grabs his wallet, some change, and his pen. He carries all of this with him to the room. The first two things he sets on his desk, but the last he starts to put away in his backpack. He’s tucked it into the front pocket, but then he pauses. He pulls it out and studies it, rotating it in his hand. The expression on his face shifts to one of realization. He stands slowly, and his eyes slide from the pen to you.

What else could it be?

You popping into existence the day after he’d drawn you is too much of a coincidence. You looked just like the drawing, right down to your clothes. Peter huffs and rubs at his temples. A pen is basically the cause of the entire ordeal. It’s no ordinary pen, that’s for sure, but what had it been doing sitting in a secondhand store? It’s very clearly a magical artifact that shouldn’t be there, yet it had been. He supposes this could’ve gone worse. Someone else could’ve taken it, set such things into motion, and not known how to deal with them. Peter won’t deny that despite his inexperience with magic, he’s still better equipped than most. He’s glad he hadn’t decided to draw a dragon or something. The notion of a pen he found in a thrift store being this powerful is kind of ironic, he can’t help but think.

If this pen is what’s started it all, you aren’t the only one it’s brought to life. Peter had drawn Caligari as well. When he remembers this, he almost wants to punch himself in the face, never mind that he had no way of knowing the powers this pen held. Although he wasn’t too far into the D&D campaign, he knew a fair amount about its main villain, and he knew that at this point your companions were still too weak to face him—you on your own, even more so.

He walks up to his window and gazes outside as if he’ll see Caligari standing there somewhere. But he knows he won’t. New York is large and, well, who’s to say he is in New York anymore? Had he gone somewhere else, to a new state even? There’s no way to track him, and with his shapeshifting abilities, he could be practically anyone. Was he laying low for now? Peter would’ve expected Caligari to wreak havoc the moment he’d spawned, yet there hadn’t been anything disastrous reported. Aside from you showing up, it was a normal day—as normal as a day like this can get, anyway.

Peter glances over at you. You’re hugging a pillow to your chest. Had Caligari sensed you at all? You hadn’t sensed him after doing your clairvoyance spell, but then again, you may not have the precision to detect more powerful mystical beings, early on in the game as you technically still are.

With a sigh, he turns off the lamp and goes to his closet, digging around for some extra blankets. There’s no room on the top bunk from all that he’s stored there, and he’s too tired to move any of it. He grabs one of the extra pillows from it instead before laying down on the ground, doing his best to get comfortable on the wooden floor. To clear more space he has to push aside clothes he’d haplessly thrown around. He really should clean up his room.

Once he’s finally settled, he stares up at the ceiling, the blood rushing to his head so forcefully he has to close his eyes for a moment. There is now an actual threat out there somewhere in New York (hopefully, which is strange to say, but it’s the best case scenario because at least Peter can reach him), and he's the cause. It won’t be fun seeking out that help he’d mentioned to you earlier, but he has no choice.

A heavy feeling bubbles in the pit of his stomach. He rolls onto his side, staring at the pile of clothes to his right and listening to the sound of your breathing. This is not a good week.

PART TWO

#peter parker x reader #spiderman x reader #tom holland x reader #peter parker imagine #spiderman imagine #tom holland imagine #peter parker #spiderman #tom holland #bubble-tea-bunny

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