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dinosaurtsukki · 4 years

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haikyuu!! + things they do when they’re not okay

so i’ve been feeling not okay for a while and figured i’d write headcanons about it instead of dealing with my problems :D (some of these are not healthy coping mechanisms pls don’t do them)

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Hinata: just like what he did in his first days in brazil, this boy stress-eats for comfort. sometimes he’ll walk all the way to the convenience store to buy a meat bun and slowly eat while sitting on the sidewalk

Kageyama: goes for a run by himself. his route isn’t planned like his daily ones, he just lets his thoughts flow as his legs take him wherever they feel like going

Tsukishima: lies on his bed with the lights turned off and listens to true crime podcasts. sometimes he’ll open a bag of apollo candies and eat them slowly

Yamaguchi: goes out of his way to help people more than usual in order to validate himself. he’ll probably buy some fruit and bring them to practice for his teammates. only tsukishima knows the reason why he does this

Ennoshita: stalks his friends’ social media accounts to check on what they’re up to. somehow, seeing his friends happy and knowing that they’re up to a bunch of weird antics makes him happy

Tanaka: he goes unusually quiet so his friends quickly notice that he’s not feeling well. any words of reassurance from them, or a pep talk from noya, helps him feel a little better

Nishinoya: will openly talk about his problems with his friends. more often than not he’ll show up at asahi’s house uninvited or message tanaka late at night but his friends don’t mind at all

Daichi: distances himself from other people, most likely will turn off his phone and go somewhere on his own like the movies or just ride a bus around town for an entire day

Sugawara: goes to the playground he used to frequent when he was younger and sit on the swings by himself all alone with his thoughts

Asahi: takes really long showers and sits in the tub by himself with music playing in the bathroom. sometimes he’ll even listen to ‘sounds of nature’ playlists

Oikawa: he’ll lock himself inside his closet, hug his knees to his chest, and then just cry it all out. most of the time, his crying session will end after he gets a text from his friends

Iwaizumi: will literally work out until he passes out from exhaustion on the ground. lately, he realized how dangerous this was so he goes for a run instead

Hanamaki: he’ll write self-deprecating tweets and share memes about being sad until someone actually asks him what’s wrong. more often than not, he’ll dodge the question

Matsukawa: he has a folder of obscure and funny videos he likes to watch (like ‘don’t hug me i’m scared’ or terrible disney amv’s). by the time he’s crying with laughter he tells himself he’s fine

Ushijima: has a hard time telling whether he’s feeling okay or not and it’s usually tendou who picks up on it before ushijima does. he’s slightly surprised whenever tendou calls but can’t deny that he feels much better afterwards

Shirabu: becomes even more snappy and sarcastic than usual and he doesn’t really stop until he realizes that he may have gone too far and feels bad about it

Semi: idly picks and strums his guitar alone in his room. he likes to play a song he’s a bit familiar with like ‘wonderwall’ or ‘hallelujah’

Tendou: on the outside, he doesn’t act that much different and seems like his usual normal (weird) self but when he’s by himself he just stares at the ceiling for a long time

Goshiki: actively seeks some form of affection or affirmation from his friends. he’ll work even harder at practice for his teammates or coach to say that he did really well and feels a bit happier when they do

Kuroo: watches his favorite movies, basically the ones he’s watched since he was a kid, and settle down with a huge bowl of popcorn. sometimes he’ll invite bokuto or kenma over

Kenma: plays something like Sims 3, Minecraft, or Stardew Valley with no concept of time. since kuroo’s friends with him on Steam he can tell when kenma’s not feeling okay so he’ll ask to play with him

Yaku: he’s unable to sleep when he’s not feeling okay so he ends up falling asleep in class during these times. at night, he’ll try to go on walks to tire himself

Lev: immediately opens up to his sister because they’re so close. he’ll knock on her room and hug a pillow on her bed while telling alisa about his problems

Bokuto: he’s completely transparent so his teammates always notice when he’s down. if he’s more sad than usual, akaashi suggests ditching practice and going out to eat somewhere instead

Akaashi: he has a secret tumblr blog where he writes down all of his thoughts whenever he’s not okay. some are frustrations, some are just intrusive thoughts he wants to let go of. either way, it helps

Atsumu: completely neglects to take care of himself. he’ll forget to eat and wouldn’t realize he’s been wearing the same clothes for days

Osamu: he’ll eat the same thing for days, something like instant mac and cheese or canned soup, because he can’t think of eating anything else

Suna: just falls into a deep sleep that can go on for more than ten hours. it stresses his friends out so when suna wakes up, there are about 28 miss calls from his friends

Kita: calls up his grandmother and all of his friends to just ask how they’re doing, he’ll let the conversation go on for hours if they need to

Sakusa: he actually owns a little reversible octopus keychain that he keeps on his bag (its the one where you flip depending on your mood). komori and his msby teammates check on the octopus from time to time

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taglist (still open to anyone who wants in!): @montys-chaos @miyumtwins @strawberriimilkshake @pocubo @sugawara-sweetheart @akaashisbabydoll @laure-chan @therainroguefanfiction @atetiffdoesart @stephdaninja @oikaw-ugh @charliefredb @dramaqueenweeb1469 @tremblinghearts @applepienation @doodleniella @haikyuu-my-love @tpwkatsumu @waitforitillwritemywayout @kattykurr

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jordanstrophe · 3 years

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A Cinnonmon Bun to Pure for this World, 8

Maslterlist

CW: recovering conditioned whumpee, PTSD, stabbing, physical fight, manhandling, soooome medical whump at the end

“Mister Richard!” Cin ran into the kitchen. “Hey! Good morni-”

“How do I make money!?” He cried, jumping into his lap and grabbing his coat collar.

“Woah woah woah, slow down there, tiger...” Richard chuckled, lifting him back onto his feet. “What on earth do you need money for? If you want something, you can always ask. You know I take care of you here.”

“Of course you do, Mister Richard! And I am very appreciative. I owe you my entire life, work, blood, dedication and soul!” He chirped.

“Uhhhh.”

“Anyway! I need money for that nice man I met in the alleyway.”

“Cin... Cin no.”

“Cin yes!”

“Cin we don’t give money to... People we meet in alleyways. Especially when they have knives and threaten to hurt you.”

“But Mister Richard! He was so kind about it!” He swayed around on his feet.

Richard tilted his chin up to make sure he had his attention. “Just because someone is charming, doesn’t mean they're good. Sometimes the bad people are the good-looking ones.”

Cin’s head tilted in bewilderment, then his eyes narrowed as they darted left to right.

‘Oh what I would give to know what was going on in that head of his," Richard thought.

“Why don’t we go for a walk today? There’s a dock not far from here I think you’ll like.” He smiled. Cin’s face halfway disappeared underneath his sweater, but he reluctantly nodded.

Richard purposely took the route that had elegant stores. Cin stared at every window he passed with wide twinkling eyes, muttering a tiny ‘woah’ under his breath after passing each one.

“Let me know if you want to go in anything.” He said, but only silence answered.

He felt a presence missing from his side.

“Cin?” He turned around to find him frozen, staring blankly at a window. “Cin!” Richard called, walking towards him. He noticed his hand twitching violently, the closer he got the more he could see his trembling.

‘Oh dear…’

He gently took Cin’s arm to pull him away from whatever was triggering him. The window he was standing in front of was an appliance store, the display covered in knives and tools.

“Oh Cin…” Richard took his shoulders and steered him away. He crouched down till they were face to face. “Look at me, you’re alright.”

He still didn’t move. His face was blank, but his eyes were wide with horror. Richard reached to touch his hand, his fingertips just grazing as Cin flinched back and cried out like he had been struck.

“Hey hey hey! It’s okay. You’re okay.” He turned on his calm coaxing voice. “No one is hurting you, you’re safe.” His hand hovered just inches from his shoulder, but he didn’t dare touch him. A high pitch sound was coming from Cin’s throat, a whining, maybe crying. He didn’t know, it was almost inaudible.

“Hey, come walk with me.” Cin twitched slightly in his direction, his eyes unblinking, but he obediently gave his hand. “There you go, that’s it.” He encouraged.

He walked him to the next window, a toy store with a display of colorful stuffed animals. Cin didn’t seem to see them as he stared dead ahead. Richard turned his hand until his body turned with it, the only thing in front of him now was the colorful display.

“My mother took me here when I was a child. Told me I could pick one thing of whatever I wanted.” He gently wrapped his arms around him from behind. “But she was a cruel woman who wouldn’t let me buy the 500$ lego ferris wheel.” He chuckled.

He could see Cin give off a small smile in the reflection of the glass. “I guess what I’m trying to say is… Do you want to pick something? I know it’s a bit childish, but you can never be too old to have fun, eh?” He rested his chin in Cin’s hair. He felt a tiny nod.

Before he could take his hand, Cin was the one who took his, and led him into the store. Richard was surprised, but went along with it.

They silently walked the isles, Cin’s eyes darting to study every single thing he passed. He still clutched Richard’s hand behind him, pulling him along. His eyes locked on to something as he stopped.

It was a stuffed octopus with a happy smile. Cin pushed his hand into its soft head as it sunk in. “Oh! I think that’s the reversible ones.” said Richard. Cin looked down at his hand to try and figure out how to do it without letting go of him. He ended up locking his elbow around his arm so he could use both hands.

He flipped it inside out, the color changing from dark purple, to red with a tiny mischievous face. Cin started to laugh, flipping it back out.

“Is that your pick?” Richard chuckled. “...Yeah.” Cin murmured with a smile.

Cin held the octopus close to his chest as they walked the dock. “You like your octopus?” Richard asked. “I love it! Thank you, Mister Richard! Its name is Fishsticks.’’ He smiled proudly.

Richard didn’t question it, he just hummed in acknowledgement. A wave underneath them passed as Cin cringed and pressed his body against his side. Richard wrapped an arm around him for support.

“Mm… M-Mister Richard, may I please go ahead to the car?” Cin whined.

“We’re almost there, stay with me.” He soothed. “Bu-but it’s right there! I’ll go straight to the car, plleease?” He begged. Richard really, really did not want Cin on his own again.

“I’m sorry, hon. But I would really be more comfortable if-” Cin turned Fishsticks to the angry face, cranking it’s mischievous eyes to stare at him. Richard started to regret letting him have that thing.

“Cin, I-” He peeled his eyes off the octopus's face to see Cin’s sad devastated one staring up at him.

“Ugh! Okay fine! But straight to the car, young man. Got it?”

“Got it, Mister Richard!” He cheered, running off down the dock.

“How on earth am I going to keep this man alive…” He muttered, burying his face in his hands.

Cin made it to the end of the dock, hopping off with a relieved sigh.

“Wait… Cin?!” A voice called. He froze as he glanced around. “CIN!” The voice shouted angrily. He spotted a white vehicle parked nearby, the window rolled down with…

Nathen.

The door slammed open as he crawled out of it, burling towards him with his hands extended with confusion.

“..N-Nathen?” Cin took a step back. Nathen’s face twisted even more when he saw his defiance.

“Where have you been!? I’ve been looking all over for you!” He hissed. He grabbed his arm and yanked him forwards as he grunted. “Please don’t tell me you got into any trouble out here. I swear if you talked to any cops.” He jerked him up by his arm so he could growl in his ear.

“You were… looking for me?” He looked up at him with gleaming eyes.

“Of course I was, you idiot! You wouldn't last five minutes out here by yourself! ...Unless you got adopted by some pack of wolves of course. Now into the car, let's go.” He nudged.

“But! But Mister Richard!” Cin pointed in his direction.

“Who the-.. Whatever, just get in the car.” He roughly started dragging him by his arm.

“W-wait! Nathen! I can’t go!” He cried, weakly struggling against his grasp. His cries and pleas were ignored as frustration built in his chest.

“I... Said… NO!” He shouted, twisting his arm as he broke free. “Wha-?”

“I-.. I don’t want t-to go with you an-anymore!” Cin squeezed his eyes shut, crossed his arms and stood up straight. His posture died a little when he peaked an eye open to see murder written on Nathen’s face.

“I erm, I mean… No... P-please?” Cin returned to his self conscious posture, shying away.

Richard had caught up, coming to a stop when he found Cin talking with a stranger. Great… What did he get himself involved with now?

That... That was no stranger.

“CIN! Come here now!” Richard commanded, his pace increasing. He could see Cin glancing fearfully between the two men, taking a step back.

Nathen’s eyes shot to Richard, finally piecing together what had happened. His face turned soft into a charming smile. “Sweetheart, it’s me! You know me, I’m family! Come home, little one, I missed you.” He gently reached a hand out. “If you come home with me now, you won’t be in any trouble, mmkay? Everything will go back to the way it was. Don’t you miss me? I’m the only one who can take care of you, remember?” He smiled.

Cin whimpered as he his arms hugged himself, visibly trembling.

I should go home.... I wanted to go home so badly this whole time!

He wants me.. Still.. After all the trouble I caused.

Trouble follows me everywhere, he’s… He’s the only one who can put up with me.

“Cin, please! Don’t listen to him! I know what he’s saying is temping, I do! But do you remember what I said this morning?” He begged.

Cin wiped his tears away, his eyes falling to the ground.

“Just because something is charming, doesn’t mean it’s good…”

Richard smiled with a proud sigh at his words. Cin took another step away from Nathen, but not before a hand snagged his hair. “Aah-!” he cried.

“You! What have you done to him!? After everything I did, everything I taught him, you unravel it!? Do you know how hard it was to get him that way?! Nathen barked.

“You didn’t teach him anything! You conditioned and abused someone who depended on you!” Richard grabbed Cin’s arm, ripping him from Nathen’s gasp as he fell backwards into the grass.

“You don’t own him, Nathen! Not anymore…” He growled, stepping between him and Cin. Nathen raised a brow.

“So he still talks about me, hmm?” He crossed his arms. “He must miss home so, so much. I’ll tell you one thing, work has been soooo much harder without him being the lil distraction. So I’d really like my baby back.” He shrugged.

“Oh, over my dead body!” Richard yelled. “Round two then.” He smirked, pulling a knife from his belt.

Cin struggled to sit up, finding the two fighting over a knife against the car. Nathen was shorter and less built compared to Richard, who had his wrist pinned to the window. He took his hand and slammed it against the glass, shattering it as Nathen let out a grunt. The knife fell from his grasp, causing Richard to ease up a bit, forgetting he hadn’t quite won. Nathen used his free hand to grab his hair, slamming his head against the car.

He hit the ground, dazed, but surprised Nathen wasn’t immediately on top of him after his fall. He blinked up to find Cin on his feet, Nathen behind him with the knife to his throat.

“M-... Mister Richard?..” Cin whimpered, tears silently falling down his cheek.

“N-no! Nathen please, do-don’t do this! Don’t hurt him!” He begged.

“Ehh, it’s a little late for that.” He shrugged. “Looks like I won again, ‘Mister Richard’.” He chuckled.

“Oh yeah?” He huffed, twisting his body till his back was against the car. “You-.. You forgot something this time.” Richard grinned, the hand behind his back revealing a phone that had been dialed.

“...No.” Nathen gasped, as approaching sirens blared in the distance. “D-dammit…” He scoffed, his grip loosening.

“I’m not letting you leave here, ‘Mister Nathen’. You lost.”

Nathen’s eyes fell, his brain wracking as he weighed his options. His face slowly turned into a deathly smile.

“We’ll see.”

Cin let out a gasping choke as the knife was plunged into his chest.

“NO!” Richard cried.

Cin crumbled on his knees at Nathen’s feet. His hand dug into his hair to push him over on his side as he stepped over him.

“No no no no no no no!” Richard crawling over to him, pressing the palm of his hands into the wound. Nathen had climbed into his car, hitting the gas to fade down the road.

“Cin! Stay with me! Keep breathing… Please! Keep breathing! Hey!” Richard sobbed.

His every breath was a light wheeze, but at least it was a breath...

Fishsticks laid nearby, its blood-spattered mischievous face blankly staring at the blue sky.

(CIN IS NOT DEAD, I REPEAT, CIN IS NOT DEAD.)

@milk-carton-whump @whumpasaurus101 @happy-whumper @as-a-matter-of-whump @alien-octopus @unicornscotty @yesthisiswhump @flower-whump @whitebluebell @shokuhoemisaki

ʕっ• ᴥ • ʔっ Thank you for reading!

Special thanks to @milk-carton-whump and @just-a-whumping-racoon-with-wifi for helping me pick one ( ◕◡◕)っ ♡

#whump #whumpee #whumper #caretaker #conditioned whumpee #recovering whumpee #tw stabbing #tw knives #returned whumper #stabbed whumpee #injured whumpee

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seagreen-meets-grey · 3 years

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When Lightning Strikes Ch. 16

When your life is nothing but a cloudless sky, lightning can come and strike you so unexpectedly, you won’t even know what hit you.

Or: When Hiccup and Astrid meet, it is as if lightning strikes.

[Chapter 1] [Chapter 2] [Chapter 3] [Chapter 4] [Chapter 5] [Chapter 6] [Chapter 7] [Chapter 8] [Chapter 9] [Chapter 10] [Chapter 11] [Chapter 12] [Chapter 13] [Chapter 14] [Chapter 15] [Chapter 17] [Chapter 18] [Chapter 19] [Chapter 20]

Crossposted on ao3 and ff.net

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Hiccup regretted not going back for a jacket the minute the wind started blowing sideways. His hand hurt from gripping the handle of his umbrella, preventing it from succumbing to the forces of nature and escaping him like a gas-filled balloon. When it turned inside-out for the third time, he gave up and closed it, hunching his shoulders in an attempt to keep the rain from disappearing down his back. It only semi-worked. He could count the goosebumps on his skin. Soon, his t-shirt was clinging to his torso and he started rubbing his arms to stop shivering.

This had been a very stupid idea. Why had he not thought this through? Where was he even going? And why on earth had he not taken his car?! But turning around and walking back to his house sounded worse than to keep walking, because the way back was the direction the rain and wind were coming from. He started jogging to warm up and get out of this weather as fast as possible, taking the route to the nearest person he could think of.

With a trembling finger, he rang the doorbell, waiting for the familiar static. The first voice he could hear was that of a barking dog, then some swearing and yelling at the dog to shut up, then finally, someone addressed him. “Hello?”

“Hey man, it’s me. Can you let me in? I’m cold and wet.”

“That’s not what- Shut up, Hookfang! Sit! That’s not what your mom said last night.”

Hiccup let his forehead fall against the front door. “Just let me in, please.”

The sound that came out of the buzzer reminded him of a dying cow, but he was able to open the door anyway. At the top of the stairs, Snotlout was standing in the open apartment door, holding his excited dog by the collar. When it spotted Hiccup, it wagged its tail against its owner’s legs and barked happily.

“Come in before he barks up the whole stairwell again. Mr. Browner’s been sticking his head out the door every time we came back from a walk to complain if Hookfang made even the tiniest of sounds. And you know he’ll make the sound if he sees people.” Before he closed the door, he yelled down the stairs, “Yes, Mr. Browner, I’m talking about you, you massive dick!”

Hiccup scratched the happy dog, trying to escape its tongue. “Wouldn’t massive dick be a compliment in your book?”

“What?”

“Nothing. Do you have a jacket for me?”

“What do you need a jacket for?”

Hiccup wordlessly pointed first at his clothes, then out the next window. “Oh, come on…” Of course, in the few minutes he’d spent inside, the rain had let up. A small patch of cloud was even lighting up a little, as if about to expose a bit of sunshine.

“You walked through a car wash or what?”

“Why- why would I ever- No, it’s been raining for the past few hours, have you not looked outside lately?”

Snotlout flopped into his armchair where a set of headphones and a half-empty bag of chips were resting on each arm. “Nah, I was busy.”

Gently shoving Hookfang away from him so that he could move, Hiccup peaked at the TV screen. “Obviously.” He was looking at the pause menu of a Harry Potter Lego game. Snotlout quickly grabbed the remote and the screen went dark.

“This is Call of Duty. Shut up, Hiccup.”

“Clearly. I could still use a jacket, though.” Oh, he would use this newfound knowledge on a later occasion. When he had the right mind for it and wasn’t still feeling like a wet towel in winter.

With a groan, his friend got up and left to his bedroom. As soon as he was gone, Hookfang jumped onto the chair and stuck his nose into the bag of chips, licking the inside. Hiccup grimaced. Snotlout loved his dog, but he still had trouble making it listen to him. Or follow any rules at all. Lucky for him, Hiccup now knew an expert in all things dog training and– Oh, right. Said expert had also just kissed him, more or less, and then bolted.

She’d said she needed to go home. Maybe she’d meant her parents’ place? Maybe she hadn’t even been talking about anything regarding her relationship with her husband? Was he overthinking this again? Maybe… Maybe she’d forgotten she needed to meet her family, the equivalent of remembering the oven was still on. Or something. He sighed. It was a place to start.

He was hit in the head by a hoodie, followed by a yell from Snotlout. “Catch! Pff, loser.” Hiccup decided not to say anything when his friend reached into the bag of chips and ate a few, before inspecting his hand and scrunching up his face in disgust. “Ew, dog slobber! Hookfang, you shit dog!” The shit dog wasn’t impressed by its owner’s disgust, staying on the armchair without a care in the world. “Now get off my chair!”

When the dog didn’t move, Hiccup sharply whistled and pointed down at his feet with a stern face. “Hookfang, come here!” After a few moments of intense eye contact, Hookfang actually gave in and followed the command, lying down at Hiccup’s feet, much to Snotlout’s dismay.

“Hey! Why are you listening to him?! You betrayed me, you son of a bitch dog!”

“You know, technically, he is the son of a bitch.”

“Shut up, Hiccup. I need that jacket back by tonight.”

Hiccup took in the chipped flame print on the sleeves. The jacket itself was too wide for him, but the sleeves were way too short. He probably looked like an idiot. “What for?”

“I want to wear it to work tomorrow. There’s this girl that likes that stuff.”

“You mean oversized clothes for kids? Didn’t you wear this back in school?”

“It’s retro! Whatever, she digs it. So give it back later, okay? I really need it.”

He shrugged. “Sure. Thanks anyway. I bet you didn’t have any other jacket you could lend me.”

“I’m not gonna give you my fine stuff. You wouldn’t be able to handle the swag, anyway.”

“What swag, Snotlout?” Before his friend could dive into that age-old discussion again, Hiccup held up his hands to stop him. “Save it, I gotta go.”

“Where?”

“Uh, I don’t know. Bye, Snot. Hookfang, listen to Snotlout. Whatever. Thanks again for the help!”

He had grabbed his umbrella and was out the door before the dog could follow him or Snotlout could dig for more details. He didn’t have time for that right now. There was a place he needed to go and there was no time to waste. Realizing he could have asked for a ride, or at least for a short ride to his own car, he slapped his hand against his forehead, breaking into a jog.

Every few minutes, a short drizzle broke out of the clouds, and Hiccup felt taken back in time to a certain rainy November day. Time was of importance just like it had been then, but today, he was determined to catch her in time and not let go. Unless she wanted him to, which he hoped she didn’t, but now that he thought about it, maybe she needed to be away from him and concentrate on the relationship she wanted to keep. Winded, he slowed to a stop and leaned against a traffic light at an intersection. The next bus stop was just down the road.

Checking the schedule on the wall of the bus shelter, he sat down on the narrow bench underneath and waited. With a sigh of relief, he found his city ticket in his wallet. The hoodie and exercise had warmed him up enough and he made sure no water would drip out of his hair and run down his neck.

What if the roles were reversed this time? What if she – and he tried to not get his hopes up – had plunged deeper into this connection between them and now needed to sever all ties to him in order to not lose her mind? That he could relate to.

He got to his feet the moment the bus rounded the corner. If her decision really ended up to break contact, he would still find her and talk to her first. For his own attempt at closure, at least. He’d know he at least tried this time, and didn’t give up at the last minute because the mountains in his way were too steep to climb.

He had to change busses twice until he got out two streets over from her parents’ place. Using the short pause between drizzles, he made it to the driveway, eyes darting around in search for her car. It wasn’t there. His stomach dropped and he felt his heart beat in his throat as he walked to the front door and rang the bell. He would leave no stone unturned; he was all in.

The door opened and Wilma Hofferson curiously raised her eyebrows at the sight of him, disheveled and wet from the rain, wearing an unfitting hoodie.

“Hi,” he nervously greeted. “Is Astrid here, by any chance?”

Wilma shook her head. “Last I saw her she was leaving to meet someone for lunch earlier, I assumed it was you.”

“Oh.”

“Seems like I assumed wrong. Have you tried her phone?”

He could have slapped himself. Her phone. He could just call her, for fuck’s sake! “No- no, you were right, she was with me. But then she left and now I’m trying to find her, but seems like she went home home, so never mind. Sorry for bothering you!”

Mind already recalling her phone number, he left a bewildered Wilma behind and jogged back to the bus stop. He scanned the schedule, but he had no clue where he should go. He didn’t even know her address. Tapping his right foot on the ground in a quick pace, he tried to get his racing thoughts in order.

“Alright, Hiccup,” he mumbled to himself, “what’s the plan here? How can you solve this?”

Call her and ask for her address? No, that was stupid, and also inconvenient. He could just ask her to meet him somewhere.

Call her and talk on the phone? Also no. This was a conversation to have face to face.

Call Heather to ask Dagur for Eret’s number or address? Yeah. Great idea, Hiccup. Call your ex to ask her brother for your almost-lover’s husband’s number. Just call her yourself, you idiot.

But when he pulled out his phone and stared at her contact info, the knot in his stomach grew tighter. It all came down to this phone call. It was easy, actually. He just had to press call, wait for her to pick up, then convince her to meet him for a very important conversation.

He was frozen where he stood, the steady sound of rain on the bus shelter’s roof like white noise in his ears. His heart was pounding, growing bigger and bigger in his chest, pushing against his lungs until he felt like he couldn’t breathe. Ripping his gaze away from his phone, he took a few deep breaths and started walking, absentmindedly opening his umbrella.

His hand was clenched around his phone, the chipped corner of the screen digging the reminder into his skin that he was avoiding his task. It was just a call. A call he needed to make. But when he imagined her answering, his mind went blank. What was he supposed to say? How was he supposed to make sure he didn’t screw this up?

Confront your fear, he heard Dr. Mala’s voice inside his head. Examine it, analyze it, confront it. What’s the worst that could happen?

Well, for starters, he could stutter around for so long that she hung up on him. She could tell him she didn’t want to talk to him. She could ignore his call altogether.

He clenched his jaw in determination. Well, then he would try again! He would find a way to reach her, he would even make an ass of himself by showing up on her parents’ doorstep every day until she either talked to him or told him to fuck off. No more avoiding, no more hiding behind fears of rejection and hurt. That wouldn’t get him anywhere.

The phone was already pressed against his ear and signaling an outgoing call before he could drive himself mad by going over what exactly he would say. Sometimes, he just had to approach the dragon without the axe. Maybe it was friendly.

After twenty eternal seconds, he realized she wasn’t going to pick up. Before his mind could start making up ridiculous reasons for that, he firmly told himself to try again in exactly fifteen minutes. In the meantime, he would just walk around Berk in the rain in his friend’s hideous jacket, definitely failing at not preparing what exactly he would say when he tried her again. But if he already didn’t give a shit about his appearance, there was no way he would avoid the call anymore, either. And hey, if she told him she wouldn’t be friends with him anymore, for whatever reason, then at least he knew where he stood.

That didn’t stop him from drumming his fingers against his leg at every red traffic light, though, or keeping up a quick walking pace because he needed to dump his nervous energy somewhere. By the time his phone signaled him the fifteen minutes were up, he had to orient himself for a minute because he’d walked to a part of town he didn’t immediately recognize. But he decided it wasn’t important where he was right now, and pulled up Astrid’s number again.

His mind conjured up an image of Cam with that Shia LaBeouf video he liked to play in every situation. Just do it! Yeah, Heather’s boyfriend was truly something.

“Just do it,” he mumbled, repeating the sentence seven times in a row before he finally pressed the call button.

It rang.

And rang.

Twenty seconds later, it was still ringing, but he didn’t give up this time. Either she picked up or he reached her voicemail.

When the signal suddenly disappeared, his breath caught in his throat. But the voice that appeared was automatic, asking him to leave a message. So he did.

“Hey… It’s me. Hiccup. I- I don’t- I’m just calling because…” He took a deep breath. “I need to talk to you. We need to talk. About… About everything. Like, earlier, when you, you know, left – I probably don’t need to remind you. You said you needed to go home, and I know you meant home to Eret because I was at your parents’ house and you weren’t there, so. Um.” He sighed and ran a hand over his face. He should have just texted her. Then he could have carefully constructed a coherent message instead of this all-over-the-place rambling.

“Like I said, I really have to talk to you. There is something I need to tell you, something I should have told you a long time ago, but I can’t do this over the phone, that would be… Can- can you just call me back? I don’t know where you live and you didn’t say when you would be back or what you were up to, and you’re not answering your phone, obviously, so.” His legs were moving on autopilot, crossing streets, rounding corners. The motion was like water that kept the mill running, namely his sanity. If he stopped walking, he would stop talking.

“You know, maybe I should just get to the point. We- we need to talk about us. I- I don’t know if it’s just me, but I feel like there’s something between us and… And maybe I’m way off here and misinterpreting– No. No, I actually don’t think that it’s just me, because today, you almost kissed me. I almost kissed you. And I need to know why, I need to know where we stand with each other, because… Because…” His lips kept moving, but no sound came out. A truck drove by him and honked. Hiccup winced and a switch went off in his brain.

“I’m in love with you,” he blurted out and his heart stopped for a few beats. “I’ve been in love with you since I met you and- and there’s nothing I can do about it. Believe me, I tried. Remember when I showed up at your wedding and told you we shouldn’t be friends? Yeah, that worked out well.” An awkward laugh escaped him. “I don’t know what you want, either from me or- or from yourself, or your- your husband… But I want to get out of this limbo of trying to forget you and falling back under your spell every time you so much as look at me. It’s like… It’s like you dropped an anchor in me and the tide buried it deeper and deeper in the sand – if that even makes any sense, I just– I can’t go on like this. If there is any chance you feel the same, please call me back. If not, if you’re going to take my advice and resolve things with Eret, then I’m happy for you. But I can’t be your friend anymore. I… I need a clear answer from you.”

Abruptly, his feet grinded to a halt in the middle of the sidewalk. Tires screeched behind him and a biker angrily cursed at him, but he didn’t even register it. “I guess… With you going home so fast, you probably decided to patch things up with your husband, and I guess that’s my answer. Or maybe not, what do I know, my judgement can’t be trusted, I once thought I’d be able to get over you. Anyway, when you hear this– Oh fuck, do you even check your voicemails? Well, if you do, just… Call. Or text. Um… Yeah. Bye.”

He ended the call and sunk to the ground underneath a lamp post, ignoring the unpleasant feeling of rain and dirt dampening his butt. Only when something cold ran down his back, did he notice it was still raining. He’d been so absorbed in his message that he hadn’t even noticed he’d been holding the umbrella askew, and now his left arm was soaked, the hand holding his phone cold and stiff. When he got back to his feet, he accidentally knocked it against the post and the device went flying, landing in a nearby puddle.

“Fuck.” Before the next pedestrian could step on it, he scrambled to get it back, infinitely glad he’d bought the waterproof version. But when he wiped it on Snotlout’s jacket and took a closer look, he groaned. There was a large crack zigzagging over the screen, and on first inspection, it looked like it went deeper than the protection glass. He tried to unlock it, but it didn’t react to his touch anymore. “Fuck!”

Great, now he had to find a repair store that was still open in Berk on a Sunday evening. Hopefully, he would be able to still accept incoming calls… He cursed his clumsiness with vigor. This was so typical. When – if – she tried to reach him now, she wouldn’t be able to. Maybe she’d leave him a voicemail asking him to call her back and they would find themselves stuck in an endless, vicious cycle.

Where the hell had he ended up, anyway? It looked like he was in a suburb, but none of the streets looked familiar to him, and when he pulled out his phone to check his location, he groaned. Right, smartphone not available. But if he could find a bus stop, he could make his way back into the city. Or he could go back to the Hoffersons and ask for a ride. That wouldn’t be awkward at all.

After a while of walking around and finally asking a passing dog-walker for directions, he found a bus stop and quickly scanned the schedule. He’d made it to the end of the route of the only bus line that even came out here. And it being Sunday, he was just lucky that the next bus would be here in no less than 52 minutes, because he had, of course, just missed the previous one. He could walk back, but that would take just as long, and also his feet hurt. These shoes weren’t made for long walks through puddles. At least it had stopped raining.

So he waited. And waited. And played around with his stupid phone for a while, but it just wouldn’t magically work again, no matter how much he begged it to. After 50 minutes of waiting, it suddenly started buzzing – and his heart climbed into his throat when he saw the caller ID. He tapped the screen frantically, but it was to no avail. His last resort was to try the lock button and hope it would accept the call, but instead, it did the exact opposite. Absolutely fucking awesome, now she probably thought he’d declined her call on purpose. And where was the damn bus?!

The calls kept coming in, but there was nothing he could do except stare at his phone in resignation and jiggle his legs nervously because the bus wasn’t coming. Fifteen minutes and four awkward short conversations with passing strangers later, he embraced the fact that no one would lend him their phone for a very quick call, or a text, anything. There was no way he would wait around for another hour.

Grabbing his umbrella and starting the journey in the direction he hoped would lead him back home, he glanced suspiciously at the dark line of clouds on the horizon. The sunset was beautiful, though. If only he could enjoy it.

Soon enough, it was pouring again. And the calls stopped.

#httyd #hiccstrid #fanfiction #hiccup haddock #snotlout jorgenson #astrid hofferson #when lightning strikes #modern au #a bit of angst with a dash of drama #or the other way around #maja writes #ff #fanfic #how to train your dragon

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griimreaping · 4 years

Text

@kaijvking ━━━━━ ╳ ( dione )

I don’t remember what the final word count was.

The world was ending in every color of the rainbow as the sky tore open and hell surged forth. Looking up at the boiling heavens alight with otherworldly fire, the people that had merely been going about their days all stare in slack-jawed awe. Bright ribbons of Aurora Borealis wind across the sky with green and gold and blue serpentine glory while comets streak across the atmosphere like a cosmic firework show. Awe still held most of the Earth’s population in its rapt grip until the creatures began to pour forth from the wound in the sky. Leviathan’s curled their massive segmented bodies that glint in the crimson twilight of Earth down from the eternal blackness shrieking as the swarm followed. That’s when the screaming started, the spell broken and panic taking hold.

A building exploded in a shower of glass and steel as several aliens on silver speeders race through the narrow streets of downtown. One of the great Levithan creatures blotting out the sun while it writhes overhead, smashing its enormous tail into structures as it passes. Jean’s heart hammers in her chest to the point where it aches. White knuckles on the steering wheel are all that keep her truck on the road while chaos erupts around her. The screams and cries for help, both spoken and not, rattle around in the telepath’s head, causing a creeping blackness to encroach in on her vision from all sides. She is going to die. She is going to die, and there’s nothing she could do about it.

Jean slams on the breaks just in time not to hit a car that’s thrown through an intersection, tumbling end over end and spiraling shrapnel across the asphalt. Whipping her head around to see the bus-sized alien that had thrown the car as if it was little more than a children’s toy, she feels her entire body seize up. Body a butcher’s block of ritualistic scarring and stitches, it looks as if several different creatures were sewn into one. Even it’s meaty arms that had so casually thrown the vehicle looked to be of two other animals. A thick slanted brow and a jewelers worth of metal piercings adorned the monstrosities face, all funneling down toward a gaping jagged toothed maw that hung open with savage glee. Chest puffing as it bellowed out some guttural war cry, Jean knew that it’s time to get the hell out of there.

Wrenching the gear shift into reverse with a grinding protest from the farm truck that she’d taken into the city, Jean smashes her foot down on the gas. Jetting backward from the intersection just as the creature lunges forward with violent intent, it’s roared protest is drowned by the ringing in the woman’s ears as she swerves backward through traffic. At this point, most have abandoned their cars, the initial shock causing many to smash their vehicles into one another as they stared up at the sky. She wonders bitterly how many had thought this is the divine rapture that so many zealously prophesied. Breaking sharply once more and shifting back into drive, Jean guns the engine, willing it to go faster as a cacophony of bending metal and shattering glass harkened the alien’s pursuit after being denied its prize in the previous intersection.

Risking a glance in the shuddering rearview mirror as the engine works up to a high whine while the speedometer’s needle edges the red, the woman sees the hulking beast tossing aside things in its path, raw red eyes trained on the dusty blue pick up. She needs to get out of the grid-like streets of downtown and back into the country. She needs to get back to Dione and get the hell out of dodge before this gets too bad.

Beside her in the cupholder, Jean’s cellphone wails. Heart stuttering behind the woman’s ribs and eyes snapping back onto the road before her, she forgets about the hell beast trailing her for just a split second. It’s Tony. Pawing at the console, she somehow catches the answer button with a finger.

“Now is not a good time!” Jean shouts, hearing just how strained she is. Tony’s voice comes out tinny through the phone’s speaker, barely audible above another earth rending crunch of twisting steel as a car careens overhead and collides with the side of a bank, sending people and glass everywhere. Something that sounds like where are you comes through the phone, and the woman curses loudly, wrenching the wheel in just enough time to avoid what looked like a van hood thrown like a frisbee.

“Somewhere between hell and high water, Tony, there’s some massive thing trying to turn my car into a paperweight!” voice breaking as she takes a turn too fast. The woman guns the engine again. Tony’s questions come out garbled before the call disconnects altogether. Jean’s hands hurt from how hard she’s gripping the steering wheel as the overpass that leads out of the city opens up in front of her. Ten more blocks, maybe. The back window explodes in a constellation of glass shards, raking across Jean’s face and nearly putting the truck onto the sidewalk. Hope so painfully bright and clear in Jean’s mind is all she can hold onto as ten blocks turn into seven, then five, then two.

The sun disappears as if someone had flipped a switch. Leaning forward to gape up at the sky, one of the Leviathan creatures smoothly glides overhead with a mechanical scream that shatters every window on the last two blocks of Jean’s escape route. With a swipe of the massive gunmetal grey tail, the building to the woman’s left caves in, buckling into the road and nearly crushing the truck if she hadn’t hit the breaks in time. Scrambling with the catch on the seatbelt, panic grips Jean’s throat in a barbed wire fist. Debris sweeps in like a tsunami blinding her even as the stitched up monstrosity finally catches up with a triumphant bellow cut short by another explosion.

Yanking on the truck door, the woman falls out in a heap. Ignoring the blossom of pain across her arms as glass and rubble bite deep into flesh, Jean crawls unseeing through the grey twilight cast by the collapsing world around her. Chest heaving for breath as she drags herself to the sidewalk, Jean flattens her body against a parking meter, tears streaming down her face as the soot clings to her eyes. Roughly scrubbing at grime streaked face, the woman squints through the gloom and spies the monster flailing wildly in an enraged search for it’s escaped prey. Looking around, attempting to see something more in the catastrophe, Jean locks eyes with the yawning darkness of an alleyway a hundred paces to her right.

Shoes crunching against the pavement underfoot and body tensing for the dead sprint that she needed to accomplish to avoid being crushed by that thing, Jean eases herself up to stand behind the parking meter. Cold metal under her blood-slicked palms and pulse thundering in her ears, Jean lunges forward. Feeling the creature’s attention searing into her back after only making it a quarter of the way there, her heart seizes in her chest. The open sewer stench of the thing hurtling in pursuit like a cannonball pushes Jean to run faster, but she knows it’s not fast enough. Squeezing her eyes shut in preparation for the inevitable, the woman is left in anticipation when it doesn’t come.

Smacking into the side of the alley and stunning herself, Jean stumbles back, unable to help the swift turn to see where the alien had vanished to.

“Hell and high water, huh?” Armor slicked with soot but still strikingly crimson in the gloom, Tony Stark’s shape approaches, and Jean almost has half a mind to throw arms around him with relief. Body sagging with the sudden outward rush of adrenaline, the telepath pushes her grimy blonde hair back from her face, blood from her palms streaking it red. Above, the mechanized screech of another leviathan reverberates down into the streets, making the dust shiver. Tony’s expressionless helmet snaps upward at the sound, and Jean’s already inching down the alleyway, ready to run.

“You need to get out of here and either run or get back to the tower. Whatever you decide to do, be quick about it, alright?” A parting nod before a sharp whine of boosters cut through the din, and Tony disappears just as the sun begins to punch through the motes of debris hanging in the air; Jean bursts out into a street alive with chaos.

Both unspoken and echoing off the skyscrapers, screams, and panic pierce through the telepath’s mind like spears. Feet pounding the pavement, Jean’s lungs sear from the effort. Smoke in the air makes every breath taste like pennies and charcoal. Nearly tripping over the twisted corpse of what might have been a person lying half crushed by an overturned armored van, she scrapes a knee on the pavement before regaining footing. Hands grab at her from several places all at once, throat closing up as the panic rips into her with hooked teeth. People are dying everywhere, and above that, heroes and gods are locked in a battle to save whatever survives this hellscape on the streets.

A formation of speeders roars overhead, their wake making those fleeing below stumble or crumple to the asphalt in crying heaps. Sharp cracks of blaster fire from their weapons send cascades of detritus down on the panicking civilians. Thoughts of death, of loved ones, desperate pleas to dozens of gods in every language clang inside of Jean’s head as she wills her legs to go faster. Shoving a sobbing man aside and ignoring his yelp of surprised anguish, the telepath pushes his groping thoughts even more vehemently out of her mind. It’s so loud. There isn’t any room for any of her own hysteria to fit inside of a head that already feels ready to split open.

Blood courses from an incessantly ringing right ear and down over the woman’s upper lip as she skids to a halt in an intersection. Fire brackets the four-way stop on the east and west sides, funneling all of the chaos down Eighth avenue toward the heart of town or back toward the bay, which is Jean’s destination. Above the wreath of fire in the distance, the woman watches as a flock of those speeders are parted like a shoal of fish by lightening. Thor’s doing, no doubt. It’s a breathtaking display as thunder and lighting crackle from a falling sky zig-zagging through the swarms of aliens, dropping them like dead birds.

Squinting up at the shifting heavens, what looks like comets blaze across the turmoil above. Mind stalling like a flooded engine, Jean’s questions are all simultaneously answered as an armored drop pod smashes into the intersection, throwing up chunks of pavement and breaking a water mainline in a deluge. Stumbling with the aftershocks of the impact, Jean’s mind attunes to the singing radio static that can only be from the aliens overtaking the city. It sounded like nothing the woman had ever encountered before. It sounded like the end of all things that were, are, and ever will be.

When the first sleek armored creature jumps down out of the drop pod, she’s already running. Smoke from burnt-out cars littering the street like abandoned toys and buildings buckling under the abuse of explosion after explosion makes it hard to tell one street from the next, but as long as she kept pointed north, she’d make it out.

Bursting out onto the boardwalk wrapped around the bay’s northern coast, Jean collides with the railing’s cold steel that kept most people from jumping into the cold water below. Tremors of drop pods making landfall all over the city rumble through the abused soles of Jean’s feet. Every fiber of her body aches in tandem. Muscles screaming to just lay down and let whatever come to her. Glass and metal shards glint in the bloody ruin of her palms and forearms, and marginally moving fingers sends bolts of agony spidering over her chest. Staring down into the churning dark water of the bay, a moment passes where she sees an end.

The water would be forgiving. Those aliens would not.

A shaking hand reaches out, leaving a gory streak on the white painted railing. It would be quick, a small voice in the back of her brain whispers. Icy tendrils of calm slither around Jean’s skull, blotting out all other sounds like black ink soaking through paper. Turning red-rimmed eyes toward the bedlam that presses in from all sides, the woman can see across the bay with its arching bridges, out toward the sprawling upper suburbia that finally opened out into the great emerald countryside.

Down below, slate-blue waves lapped at the boardwalk struts promising tranquility. The water didn’t panic. It didn’t scream as the sky tore open, and there were no crunching sounds as it was rendered beneath wheels or feet or metal. Jean’s left foot raised to rest on the railing’s lower rung, boosting her up a few inches. It would be quick, her mind whispers again. You’ve wanted this for years. To make the noise stop for good.

A second step onto the railing. A few inches closer.

The countryside looks so very green from here. Wind wafts the far away smells of fresh wheatgrass, blowing away that acrid sooty smell of death and despair for just a heartbeat. Drying the sweat, tears, and blood streaked across the woman’s face, the momentary wind dislodges a memory from the tangle of Jean’s mind.

***

Crickets croon in the crisp night air. Waist-high grasses framing an endless sky speckled with stardust and the occasional plane making it’s landing at LaGuardia. Head rested against the warm pillow of Dione’s bicep as they both look up into oblivion, Jean points out another constellation. She’s sure that he knows all of the constellations by now, and dozens more Jean isn’t even aware of, but he humors her none the less. Laying side by side in summer sweetgrass waiting for the meteor shower to begin.

“You’re not even looking,” she murmurs, lifting her head to gaze down at him, a grin curling the edges of her mouth even as the woman tries to pout. A deep chuckle as eyelids open lazily, Dione smiles sleepily up at Jean.

“You said that this would start almost an hour ago, cariño.” This is true. Broadcasts all that week had been giving timeline after timeline about when the most extensive shower of the season would begin. Thus far, it is apparent that all of the predictions had been wrong as the pair had been lying there for an hour and a half with nothing to show for it. Flopping back down with a soft huff, Jean grumbles in protest as Dione curls his arm so they lie face to face.

“I would say we can go back inside, but I don’t want to miss it.” her breath is warm as it ghosts across his face, and the man hums quietly, eyes already half-closed once more as he studies her face. Hand gently carding through Jean’s hair and making the woman purr softly, Dione’s lips meet hers in a slow kiss. With little effort, he rolls on top of her, a gentle breeze rustling the grasses and filling her senses with the scent of summer and the anticipation of the man above her.

“We can stay out here as long as you like. The stars won’t be going anywhere any time soon.” he offers lowly, lips grazing the skin of Jean’s throat as her palms ride along the plane of his body. The first streaks of light blur across the black velvet night as Dione makes her see stars of her own.

Reeling back from the railing and falling flat to the pavement, Jean’s eyes snap open as the wind rushes out of her in a broken wheeze. That vision of captivating dark, calm peace shattering against the rocks of that single memory. Blinking through the tears as the first ragged sob rattles loose, the woman stares up into a blinding blue sky. Everything that she’d fought to get out of that damn crumbling city would be for nothing if she didn’t make it home. She needed to get herself and Dione as far away from this hellscape as possible. Death could wait just a few hours longer if that’s all it meant.

Pushing up and gnashing her teeth together against every jagged pain in her body, Jean stands glaring at the bay. Not even sparing another glance to the water, the woman is running once more toward the parking lot full of discarded cars. While it seems like cruel luck at the moment, she’s able to locate a sedan whose driver is still slumped over in the driver’s seat, forehead mashed into the endlessly blaring horn. Grimacing before hauling the man in a stained Hawaiian shirt out of the vehicle and depositing him on the cracked parking lot, Jean says a quick prayer before scrambling into the driver’s seat.

Thankfully, the further away from the city she drove, the fewer cars choked the highway lanes. Pushing the sedan to the point the frame rattled, Jean had to yank three hula girl dash ornaments from their place and throw them into the back seat, just to help herself think. In the cracked rearview mirror, her chest tightens at the inky stain that once had been the city skyline. Leviathans swam effortlessly, raining destruction, as drop pods continued to pound into the Earth. Though it didn’t seem like the pods were restricted to the city, Jean able to spy more than a few that were barraging the suburbs as well.

Ripping along the dirt roads into the country, Jean weighs if the family sedan would be able to take offroading. Noting that it had barely made it out of the city proper before the back bumper jumped ship, the woman decides against it as she nearly drifts into the turn that takes her to Dione’s ranch. Every mile closer, she’d gotten that barbed wire noose around her neck tightened. What if he was already gone? She would get there and do what? How many missed calls had gone to her cellphone that is still somewhere smashed on Eleventh and Broadway. Jean didn’t even have the burner phone that Steve insisted that she carry with her at all times. She’d once scoffed at his for emergencies speech like a petulant teenager.

Biting the inside of her cheek to halt the immediate flood of relief upon seeing his car still parked in the driveway, Jean pulls the sedan into a jerky stop. Not even bothering to turn the vehicle off, she’s already sprinting into the house yelling his name. Meeting her in the kitchen with a shotgun in his grip Jean is stricken by how haggard he looks.

“Your phone?” are the first words he’s able to bite out before she’s wrapping her arms around him. Dione feels how hard Jean is shaking, every possible emotion rattling around inside of her and ripping the woman apart. He’d been calling for nearly an hour now with no answers, straight to voicemail every time and the gnawing worry that she is already dead somewhere. He isn’t ready for that yet.

“We need to leave, get your things. Pack whatever you think you need.” Jean’s speaking fast now, thoughts derailing even as they leave her lips. There’s blood in her hair, painted across her neck, and dripping off Jean’s fingertips onto the wood floor. Dione doesn’t move right away, staring at the absolute disarray of the woman before him. Silently marveling at how she’s still even standing upright. This sparks something within Jean’s chest, and her temper rises up alongside the siren of her anxiety.

“Dione, please, we have to move.” she urges, and something in her voice snaps him out of whatever spell that had been cast. Bustling around the house with criticality, the two ferry things back and forth to the sedan. Midway through, Jean moves the car for an easier escape when the time comes. Casting her gaze up to the sky, she begins to notice that different pods are cascading down from the wound in the heavens now. Explosions ripping through most of the city, soot smearing across the blue afternoon like the hand of death.

Carrying the second to last trunk out to the car, Dione sees her then. Just a glimpse out of the corner of his eye, a shadow in the mirror as he passes. For a moment, he isn’t sure if the light and stress were playing tricks on him. But as he looks into the reflective glass, a cold calmness rushes into him, filling up the cracks and canyons of his worries. It washes everything out like a welcomed summer rain.

Jean’s voice from the front door pulls Dione back, eyes snapping away from the mirror as she takes the trunk from his hands.

“Is everything okay? Do you have all your things?” Her questions seem so meaningless now, and for a moment, he forgets to answer. He almost wants to kiss her—Jean’s brows furrow at Dione’s prolonged silence.

“Dione?” she prods, and he blinks. Shaking his head, the man gestures toward the door, already turning away and going back for the last trunk, which sits just next to the spot where he’d seen them in the mirror. Picking it up and gazing at the floor for a moment to savor that small shadow there, he turns and takes the trunk to the car. Jean is buzzing around the sedan like a frightened animal making sure everything is packed correctly for the exodus. There’s a hollowness in him now, but he isn’t afraid of it.

“Jean, I think I’ll take the other car. It would be good to have two vehicles since that one looks in disrepair.” He can feel that sharp barb of worry lance through her. Those emerald eyes were full of questions as she turns to him, taking a step forward as he does the same. Cupping her face in his hands, Dione smiles down at his lovely telepath, who’d shown him so many wonders the past months. Pressing a lingering kiss to her lips, he sighs, memorizing this one moment.

“Go, I’ll be right behind you.” Giving a gentle nudge away from him, Jean opens her mouth to protest, a detonation that seemed far too close for comfort, ripping the objection out of her lips. Pressing her mouth into a tight line and trying to ignore the wetness in her eyes, the woman gives a tight nod before turning to slam the trunk shut. Dione waits just a heartbeat longer to watch her, committing every soft shape of her before moving away.

Walking back into the house, he doesn’t flinch when the black-robed figure with their leering skull approaches him from the living room. Outside, Jean gets into the driver’s seat of the sedan, its missing bumper making it look like a battered war beast. A soft sigh leaves the man as he looks at Death’s reflection in the window, lingering behind him in its silent cold promise.

“It’s time to go.” Death murmurs, and Dione watches the sedan pull away. She would live.

“I know.”

The blast is magnificent. Nearly throwing the sedan up the gravel drive as the shockwaves skips the vehicle like a stone across a pond. Jean’s scream is choked in her own throat as she’s thrown around inside the car. At last, skidding to a stop, she’s clawing at the door too dented in to open anymore, sobbing out the name of someone who can’t hear her anymore. Reaching out desperately for any glimmer of his thoughts, only to hear the roaring silence.

#‘ﾟanswered » JEAN MASTERS — ❝ here the light only dies to remember ! ❝#‘ﾟships » KAIJVKING — ❝ if you don’t love me now you’ll never love me again ! ❝#tbh I got so caught up writing the beginning #mmmm ending word count was in the mid fours #i'll make a separate post for John's #it's significantly shorter but hurts more

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orangeoctopi7 · 4 years

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Everyone Loves an Underdog

: Chapter 1 : Chapter 2 : Chapter 3 : Chapter 4 :

The brothers were eternally grateful that Stan had his own car, so they didn’t have to endure a painfully awkward drive with Filbrick to the gym where the boxing match would be held. Their father took his own Oldsmobile.

“Uh, is the gym on the corner of Beach and Poplar, or Beach and Poppy?” Stan asked as they stopped at an intersection.

“I don’t know, you spent far more time there than I did.” Ford shrugged. “Don’t tell me you don’t remember how to get there?”

“It’s been over forty years and last summer I got my memory erased, cut me some slack, Sixer!”

“Ok, ok, relax! You know it’s off of Beach Street, right? So we just need to find Beach and drive up and down it until we find the right building.”

“Right. I can do that.” Stan assured himself.

They only had to turn around once before they found the gym. Luckily, there were plenty of cars parked outside signalling they had found the correct building. There were obviously some highly anticipated matches tonight. Stan doubted most of them were here for him, though. A three-round match between a couple of minors was hardly the kind of stuff people were clamoring to see.

“Did you two get lost on the way here?” Filbrick asked sarcastically.

“What? Hah, no!” Stan denied. “Ford thought he saw a UFO, we went a different route to see if we could get a better look at it.”

Ford rolled his eyes. Sure, throw me under the bus.

“You two need to stop wastin’ your time with that crap.” Filbrick grunted. “Now go get warmed up, or you’re gonna hurt yourself out there.”

“Good luck!” Ford told Stan as he made his way to the locker room.

“What, like I need it?” Stan called back.

Stanford followed his father into the stands, where they took a seat in the front row. A few spots had been reserved for the fighters’ family members and coaches.

“Hey there, Fil!” Stan’s coach said as he took a seat next to them. “Your Stanley sure likes to cut it close, doesn’t he? I mean, I know he’s more than a match for the Crampelter kid, but you’d think he’d give himself more than five minutes to warm up!”

“Yeah, he was busy goofin’ off with his brother here.” Filbrick inclined his head towards Ford.

“Oh, is that Stanford?” The coach asked sarcastically. “Yeah, I didn’t recognize you, it’s been so long.”

Ford rolled his eyes. It hadn’t even been a year, and he would have quit sooner if his father hadn’t been so insistent that it was “teaching important life skills”. The teen had only been able to convince his father to let him quit when he brought home brochures explaining that State Science Fair winners often won scholarships.

“What’s it been, five months since you quit? I thought you traded in your boxing gloves for a lab coat and test tubes?”

“I’m just here to support Stanley.” Ford answered stiffly.

“Sure, sure.” The coach turned his attention back to Filbrick. “Y’know, Fil, you’re a lucky guy. You got two very talented sons. One’s got all the brains, the other’s got all the brawn! Makes me wonder what’s left for the third one!”

The two men chuckled over the joke.

“Yeah, I would be lucky, if either of ‘em had the sense to put all that talent into something useful!” Filbrick replied. “Instead Stanley wastes all his winnings on that fancy car of his, and Stanford’s got his head in the clouds, dreamin’ about UFO’s and monsters. And they both waste all their time tinkerin’ with that old wreck they found on the beach. It was cute when they were little, but they’re both about to graduate from highschool! It’s high-time they grew out of it!”

“I’m right here.” Ford hissed.

“...What was that?” Filbrick asked, although it was clear he knew exactly what his son had just said.

“I’m sitting right here! I’d appreciate it if you stopped talking about me as if I wasn’t!”

The two older men stared at the teen for a moment, their shock apparent even in the dim light of the stands.

“Finally standin’ up to your old man, eh?” Filbrick finally said. “Maybe you learned something here after all.”

The coach and Filbrick moved on to talking about the other matches that were taking place that night, leaving Ford to steam silently to himself.

I still have to live with him for at least another day. I’ll just have to bite my tongue until the Time Tape is fixed. Then I can say whatever I like to his gravestone.

* * *

By the time Stan got changed into his boxing gear, he didn’t have a lot of time to warm up. But he was a limber, 17-year-old kid. If he could take on a horde of zombies without warning at the age of 63, he could go a few rounds with Crampelter after only five minutes of warm up.

It felt like significantly less than five minutes when the bell rang that signaled it was his turn in the ring. He took one last swig of water from the fountain, popped in his mouth guard, and walked out the door into the waiting crowd. His coach was waiting for him at the ropes. And just behind the coach, in the front row, were Ford and Filbrick. Stan tried to smile at his brother through the mouthguard. Ford chuckled and smiled back.

“Ladies and gentlemen, introducing our junior heavyweight match of the night!” the announcer called as the fighters entered the ring. “In the blue corner, weighing in at 254 pounds and six feet, seven inches tall, Dalton Crampelter!” There was a smattering of polite applause before the announcer continued “And in the red corner, weighing in at 210 pounds and 6 feet and an inch tall, Stanley Pines!” The crowd cheered. This may not have been the main event of the night, but people loved to see a little guy take on a big guy, even if Stan hardly qualified as a little guy in normal circumstances.

Crampelter glowered down at Stan as they both stepped to the center of the ring.

“Yhr hoing doon, Mines!” Ever the bully, Crampelter always had to get a taunt in, no matter how stupid he sounded trying to talk through his mouthguard. Stan just rolled his eyes and smirked.

The referee approached them, looking completely exasperated. He’d worked here since before these two rivals first started boxing lessons, and he knew their history. “Alright you two, I don’t want a repeat of last time. Don’t make me pull you blockheads appart. At least try to beat each other up within the established rules. I’ve lectured you both on them so many times, I shouldn’t need to repeat them again.”

"I hon't if he hon't." Stan mumbled.

Crampelter just sneered.

The ref stepped back and held up his hands. The bell rang, and the match started.

Stan made a jab for Crampelter right away. The bully had been expecting it, and blocked. They continued to exchange jabs for a few seconds, neither penetrating the other’s defenses, until Stan successfully faked Crampelter out, twitching his left hand down and popping the bully in his right temple the moment his guard was down. The ref blew the whistle.

“Hard blow to the head, point red!”

The two contestants stepped back. Stan could hear cheers from Ford and his coach behind him. He could also hear Crampelter’s coach yelling obscenities from across the ring.

They squared up again and the bell for the second round rang. This time, Crampelter came out swinging. Stan blocked the blow, but there was so much force behind it, it sent a jolt of pain through his arm. That’s gonna bruise in the morning. He had to take a step back to keep his footing, and Crampelter took advantage of the momentary loss of balance to drive another punch in, this time aiming for Stan’s gut. He turned his body just in time to dodge the brunt of the attack, but the glancing blow to his ribs still hurt.

Now Stan knew it was time to get serious. He feigned a trip, and when the bully tried to push him over, he surged forward and landed an uppercut to Crampelter’s jaw. The bully gave an enraged snort, and grabbed Stan’s offending arm. Crampelter shifted his weight forward, fully intending to push Stan down to the mat, as though this was a wrestling match, and squash him.

So you wanna fight dirty, huh? Alright then.

Stan pushed back against Crampelter for about a second before reversing directions without warning. He pulled the bully down with him and extracted his arm, rolling out of the way at the last second, so that his opponent landed hard on his shoulder.

The ref blew his whistle again, and stepped forward to separate the two fighters. “Well, at least we got one round where you both fought fair.” he sighed. “Disqualified round due to illegal moves. No points!” The crowd cheered. They didn’t care if it was illegal, they were getting quite the show.

Stan and Crampelter were both breathing hard by the start of the third round. Stan’s right arm was throbbing where he’d blocked that harsh blow earlier, and he could tell from Crampelter’s stance that the bully’s shoulder was hurting him where he’d landed.

Let’s hope I can end this in the next round.

Both competitors rushed forward at the bell. Stan got a solid jab in at the sternum, but Crampelter was more concerned with his footwork. The bully stomped down hard on Stan’s right foot.

“Yah cheatin’ fonofah--” Stan mumbled through his mouthguard. He kneed his opponent in the shin, but that only seemed to make Crampelter mad. The hulking teen bodychecked Stan, glomming onto his head.

Stan tensed up. He’d fought government agents and South American drug gangs and angry bikers. He knew how to come out on top in an unfair fight. He headbutted Crampelter, gaining himself a little bit of room as the bully reeled back from the blow.

“Lef’ hook!” Stan shouted as soon as his arm had room to maneuver. His fist collided with Crampelter’s nose, making a satisfying crack.

The whistle blew for the final time. “Match point due to injury, victory red! Can we get a medic up here to set Crampelter’s nose?”

Stan spit out his mouthguard and grinned down at his family. He climbed down from the ring to the sound of applause.

“Great match, kid!” His coach greeted him. “I mean, as your coach, I kinda have to tell you to not fight dirty like that, but hey, he started it, right? And you still came out on top!”

“Congratulations, Stanley.” Ford was at his side in a second, looking him over with concern. “But how’s your arm? It looked pretty bad from where I was sitting.”

“Don’t worry so much, Poindexter, I’m fine.” Stan assured him.

Filbrick simply gave a small nod of approval. “Good to see you can beat an overgrown gorilla boy.”

Stan gulped involuntarily. “Uh… thanks, dad.” He said with a forced grin. “Welp, we’re gonna head home!”

“Head home? But Somners and Epstein are fighting next!” The coach protested.

“Oh, uh, yeah, but, heh, my arm’s really been through the wringer tonight. I gotta get it patched up, y’know.”

“They got plenty of ice at the concessions stand.” Filbrick grunted. “Y’can’t go runnin’ home to ma to get coddled every time you have a rough match. Gettin’ hurt is part of the game, son.”

That was something Stan knew all too well. In the time between getting kicked out and moving to Gravity Falls, he’d occasionally take up prize fighting to earn a little extra money. He could never keep it up for long though. It was too rough on the body, especially when they paid you to take a fall, and the other guy thought the only way to “make it look convincing” was to actually beat the snot out of you. And of course, no matter how much they offered to pay him, it never seemed to be enough to cover a trip to the hospital.

“Well, I need to go home and work on my science fair project.” Ford interjected.

“Tough luck, you should’ve thought of that before you came out here tonight, Knucklehead.” Filbrick said caustically.

Stan stared at his father like a deer in the headlights. I got my own car, we can go home if we want! He wanted to say it, but for some reason, his insides froze and his mouth glued shut in the face of his dad’s disapproval.

Ford put an arm around his shoulder. “Fine then. Let’s go get you some ice, Stan.”

The brothers made a beeline for the concessions stand, but once they got a bag of ice for Stan’s arm, Ford started pulling him towards the exit.

“Where are we going?”

“Home.”

“But dad said--”

“Oh please, he probably won’t even notice for another round or two. And then what’s he going to do?”

“Probably ground us when he gets home.” Stan guessed. “Shout so loud the neighbors knock on the wall again.”

“Grounding will hardly matter once the Time Tape is fixed.”

“I mean, our past selves will still have to deal with it.”

“We were grounded plenty of times in the past. Once more won’t hurt.”

Stan climbed into his car and tried to figure out how he could hold the ice pack to his arm and still properly grasp the steering wheel.

“Perhaps I should drive.” Ford suggested.

Stan grit his teeth for a moment before finally sighing and trading spots with his brother. “Just don’t drive her like one of your crazy spaceships.”

“That would be impossible. Cars don’t have pitch or roll.”

“Yeah, let’s keep it that way.”

They drove in silence for a few minutes, until Stan winced as his arm gave a particularly painful throb.

“How’s your arm?” Ford asked in concern.

“Hurts more than I remember.” Stan admitted. “Course, I’ve had worse. Well, probably not by this point in my life, but I will have worse.” he rolled his eyes. “Yeesh, time travel is confusing.”

“Yes, the sooner we can get back to 2013, the better.” Ford agreed. “I don’t know how much longer I can take living with dad. I’ve already come dangerously close to snapping at him twice.”

“Yeah, same here. Not the snapping part, funny enough, but I really don’t think I can take much more of him.” Stan adjusted the ice bag on his arm. “Is there anything I can do to help speed that along?”

“Hmmm… you could finish filing off the points on the circuitry while I open up the original Time Tape’s casing and remove the burnt-out circuitry. Just be careful, it’s very fine detail work.”

“Sure. Anything to get back to our own time quicker. I mean, don’t get me wrong, it’s nice to see ma again, but…”

“Can’t say the same for dad and everyone else?”

“Yeah.”

Their mother was waiting for them when they arrived home, having already put Shermie to bed for the night.

“Oh, baby, what happened?” She asked when she saw the half-melted ice bag Stan was holding to his right arm.

“Heh, you should see the other guy!” He joked.

“I suppose that means you won your match?”

“Yeah. Probably for the best you didn’t come, mom, it was a bloody one.”

“Only when you broke Crampelter’s nose.” Ford amended with a snicker.

“Well, what happened to your arm?”

“Heh, I blocked a punch that felt like the giant put all of his weight into.” Stan explained. “Then in the next round, when I popped him with an uppercut, he grabbed the same arm and tried to push me down. I had to twist it around a lot to get out of there, and I think that made the bruising worse.”

Caryn heaved a beleaguered sigh. “I don’t know why you keep on fighting in these boxing matches. You’re gonna get yourself really hurt one of these days!”

Stan shrugged. “It’s fun. And it’s good money. I’ll be able to pay off my parking ticket now.”

“Well, there’s that at least.” She turned to Ford. “And Stanford, honey, did you have fun?”

“Er… fun isn’t the word I’d use to describe it.” Ford grimaced. “But I am glad I went.”

“Oh good. And lemme guess. Your father stayed to watch the other matches tonight?”

“Yeah.” The boys answered in unison.

Their mother rolled her eyes. “Guess I’d better wait up for him too.” She switched on the TV and sat on the couch.

#Gravity Falls #Fanfiction #Stanley Pines #Stanford Pines #Filbrick Pines #Crampelter #My Writing

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manggojooz · 5 years

Text

Pick A Side (14 - Final)

pairing: Taehyung x reader

word count: 1,870

genre: university!au; angst; romance; thriller; a lil bit of fluff

warnings: slight references to voyeuristic behaviour

taglist: @destiel1597 @mila271 @hopetookmysoul @ximaginx@honeyursosweet @coffeecupyoongs@bangtanbaesstuff@annoyingpessimist @betysotelo18 @okaysoplshelpme@igot7bangs @tahaing @mochi-and-co @somewhereinthestarss

“A collection of your choices is your life.”

At some point we all ask ourselves, “Where did it go wrong? When did it become like this?”

Eventually we realise that there is no answer, for each choice we make is but one link in an extended chain. What we do, what we do not do. What we choose, what we do not choose. What we say and what we do not say. Every single choice has led us to this moment. So how can we determine which is the choice that we can blame all of this on?

“I shouldn’t have trusted him...”, Jihyun weeps silently outside the police station.

“No... it’s not your fault Jihyun... If anything, I should have known when he was using me...”, you tried to comfort her.

“It’s neither of your fault, we all wouldn’t have been in this situation if I hadn’t been an idiot...”, Taehyung said

Jihyun looks at Taehyung and starts to reason with him that it has nothing to do with him at all.

You quietly thought to yourself, “How did it become this way? Did it start when Taehyung broke up with you? Was it really triggered by the argument you had with Jihyun over that bullying video? So was your past to blame for all of this? No, but this wouldn’t have happened if you had not meet Taehyung in the first place. And this wouldn’t have happened if Jihyun never met Haejoong either. Does this mean that it was wrong the moment all of us crossed paths?”

You were confused, very confused.

“Guys, there’s no point in saying all these now. Let’s just go... it’s been a long day”, you uttered exhaustedly.

A choice we make is like a photo etched onto film. It cannot be reversed. It cannot be changed. And we have to make such choices every day. There are no alternatives. Yet humans are fallible from the start. It is thus destined that we make mistakes.

---

The next day Taehyung and you returned to the police station to record your statements as to how Haejoong had locked you on the school rooftop and coerced Taehyung into recording a false confession.

As you were about to leave the station, Taehyung stopped abruptly. You followed his line of sight and it lands on Haejoong, his wrists bound by handcuffs and trudging slowly behind two police officers towards a caged van. Before Taehyung could catch you, you dashed across the foyer.

Thank goodness you still had the sanity to ask the officers for permission to speak to Haejoong and they reluctantly granted you just two minutes.

“Don’t you think you owe us an apology?”, you demanded.

“What for? I did nothing wrong. I was showing her the truth... in fact, I was showing all of you the truth”, he lamented.

“I hope the law punishes you enough for you to realise how wrong you are”, you snipped.

Haejoong only shakes his head, “People are often punished for doing the right things too, Y/N. Someday you will understand that I mean well... like I said, I never intended to hurt you.”

You shuddered when he said your name but felt someone hold gently onto your shaking hand.

“Leave him be”, Taehyung said to you as he came up from behind you. He turns to Haejoong, “Don’t ever apologise, they are kind-hearted and I am afraid that they may forgive you. You were never deserving of Y/N... or Jihyun. You will never deserve her”, Taehyung clenches his teeth and held onto your hand a little tighter.

Haejoong looks shaken, faintly. His features filling with a sadness you have never seen in them before. Perhaps Taehyung hit the right nail – the only punishment to Haejoong is that his choices has led him away from the one thing he wanted.

He did not say another word and turned back towards the barred vehicle behind him.

Humans are fixated, in fact overly-obsessed, with the notion of making the right choices. Every other movie will tell you to “do the right thing”. We audaciously presume that the choices that can be made in this world are categorised into “right ones” and “wrong ones”, just like how a developed photo is a positive and there must therefore be a negative on a film somewhere. And all we have to do is to pick the side with the right ones. That is not always the case, not for everyone.

---

The radio on the bus was having a lot of static disturbance but the music was country pop. You were looking out the window and you could see Taehyung’s reflection in it.

He was lost in thought, sitting next to you but looking out the window on the other side of the aisle.

“Hey... so um... where are we going?”, Taehyung muttered.

“We are going to get hit by stones...”, you answered.

“Huh?”, Taehyung was always rather spontaneous, but the bus was proceeding towards a particularly unfamiliar route and he would be happy to know at least something about the destination.

“Do you remember what you said to me when I asked you whether you would take my side even if I did something wrong?”, you asked him.

He tilted his head, eyes slanting upwards, thinking really hard.

“... if it can’t be fixed, then let’s suffer the consequences together. If you have to apologise, I’ll apologise with you. If the world throws stones at you, I’ll get hit together.”

Is this what he think it is?

“I’m visiting a friend. I go now and then, but I am never welcomed. I’m wondering whether it’ll be easier for me to face it if you are with me...”, your words were met with silence and an intense stare from Taehyung.

“There are two stops left before we reach, you still have two chances to run away if you want to”, you ended on a lighter note.

“Well, it’s not as if anyone would really throw stones at us, right?”, he smiles that same dorky smile and and you couldn’t help but feel better to have him next to you.

---

“Leave, don’t you see that you are burdening him when you keep coming to visit him? He doesn’t want to see you! Leave!”, a high-pitched voice pierces the hallways as you were shoved to the ground and Taehyung stumbles. After regaining his balance, he quickly kneels down to help you up but you did not budge.

“I won’t disturb him, he doesn’t have to see me. I just want to pass this letter to him... it’s not from me, it’s from another classmate”, you held out a tiny envelope with Jinho’s name written on the front.

The woman who had pushed you away snatches the envelope, tears it in half before throwing it at you. "This reminds me...”, she mumbles as she disappears into the nearest room, coming back shortly with a box in her hands.

“... take all these back with you...”, she hurls the entire content within the box onto you, inevitably hitting Taehyung with them too.

“Stop coming, we don’t want your apology”, her voice rumbles and the door crashes shut.

There was no one else left in the corridor except Taehyung and you, the floor surrounding you littered with photographs, letters, cards, charms and pendants brought or sent by you and your friends over the years.

And all choices have consequences – in some way or another, whether you intended it or not. Are you really picking someone’s side? Or are you merely choosing what consequences you are able to live with?

---

The lake behind the rehabilitation centre was no longer as frozen as it was before and the view was not as misty as it used to be.

“Oh, isn’t this the lake in your photos?”, Taehyung recognises the scenery as he approaches alongside you.

You just nodded. Every time after visiting Jinho you would end up at this lake and you imagined if you were drowning in it. If you were screaming in the middle and no one had heard you or saved you. You imagined the despair, and that is what you imagine Jinho must have felt. And then each time you were able to make the same choice again and again, that you will continue to come quietly, apologise silently, and let him decide if he was willing to let you in.

“But in the end, spring will come someday. The ice will melt and flow away”, you whispered. Taehyung turns to look at you sharply, surprised that you are recalling his words. “Thanks for telling me that... it meant a lot to me then... I will wait for the ice to melt and flow away, let’s hope it does happen someday, but if it never happens, at least I tried to do something about it”, you smiled back at him satisfied with your decision again.

You turn to walk back towards the bus stop and Taehyung stays standing by the lake, watching you, and deliberating. He feels that maybe it is finally time to ask you to consider giving the relationship a second shot.

“Y/N”, he finally calls out to you just as you walked into the shade of a young budding tree. You turned to face him and he slowly walks up to you.

“Isn’t spring nice? Even though the flowers were lost because of the winter, they get to bloom again in spring”, Taehyung marvels, still not quite decided on whether to make the proposition.

You looked up at the blossoming tree, not recognising what kind of flower it is.

“In the bigger picture it is probably a nice sentiment, but from the flower’s point of view, once it has wilted, then it will never bloom again...”, you replied.

This prompted you to take out a film camera from your bag and snap a photo of the flowers, the slow mechanical sounds from the rolling of the film permeating the air.

In that moment, Taehyung seems to have understood something.

There is never truly a second chance at anything. The flower that bloomed this spring, even though on the same tree, is never the same flower from the past spring. And therein lies the gravity of our choices.

He finally understands the difficulty and his inability to make certain choices in the past, but now he also knows that his inaction had then amounted to a choice as well. He sighed deeply, finally coming to terms that he too, has to face the consequences of his unintended choices.

You were puzzled by him, “Are you okay?”, you asked.

He inhaled as deeply as he sighed before replying, “I cannot say ‘let’s start again’, since the flower from last year has already wilted. I will not ask you to come back to me if you do not want to. My choices have led us here, and it’s only fair for it to be your turn. Whatever you choose, I will live with that. So, this time let me ask you instead, do you still want me as your boyfriend... or just a friend... or not even a friend? What do you want, Y/N? What will you pick?”

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clemanime · 4 years

Text

Speed

A/N: Vroom vroom. This is the last one for the day. I plan to do 2 a day if I can. @evnscvll

WARNING: swearing, speeding (don’t do it kids.. it’s not worth your life)

“Hey, Y/n! Where you gonna go now?” Benny questioned as he walked up to her while she loaded her car. “We got another job coming up and we need a driver.”

“You know this was my last job. I’m out.” She answered with a smirk, adjusting the bags in her trunk.

“It’s just transporting a package. You won’t have any trouble.” He continued, following her around her car until she finished up. “It won’t be hard.”

“Last package you had me deliver nearly blew me up.” She stated, shutting the trunk then the passenger door. “I’m out.”

“Alright Speedracer. You’ve got money now and don’t think we’re worth it.” He grumbled.

“Yeah yeah.” She mumbled, getting in the car. “Whatever.” There was a scream coming from outside, the both of them looking at each other before heading towards the garage door.

“Why are we doing this?” Benny asked. “It’s none of our business.”

“Benny.” She warned, opening it slightly and stepping back when a kid crawled under. “Holy shit.”

“No fucking way.” Benny closed to door as quickly as it opened. “This is that kid!”

“What kid?” She asked, looking at the girl in a fancy dress.

“The God Daughter of that hero that got kidnapped.” Benny snapped his fingers.

“Please. Captain Steve Rogers is my God Father and I managed to get away from the people that took me.” She stepped forward, grabbing her hands. “I just wanna go home.”

“No way.” Benny said, shaking his head. “I say we put the kid back outside and pretend like nothing happened.”

“No!” She yelled.

“Relax Kid. You’re not going back out there.” She said as she grabbed Benny by the collar. “We’re not putting a kid back in danger.”

“You’re a criminal Y/n. Remember that? What do you think they’re gonna do when they find out that the person hording the God Daughter of Steve fucking Rogers, you think they’re gonna pat you on the back? No if anything they’ll paint a red target on it.”

“Yeah.” She huffed, looking at the girl that looked scared out of her mind. “But my conscious is telling not to let her go back out there.”

There was banging on the garage door, cutting their conversation off. “We know the kid is in there! Open the door and no one gets hurt!”

“Get her out of here Y/n.” Benny whispered. “I’m looking out for you too here. This kid brought trouble to my doorstep. My ma’s gonna kill me if these guys don’t.”

“Shut up.” She sighed, scratching the back of her head. “Shit…” She opened the door to the car, motioning for the girl to get in. “It’s gonna be a bumpy ride for the kid so keep your head down”

“Are you insane!?” Benny yelled as the banging continued. The garage door rattling as they tried to get in. “Hey! Don’t get in that car Y/n! Just give her back to them! If you leave, I’m not helping you. You’re cut off.”

“I told you I was out Benjamin. So, I’ve already cut myself off.” She got in the car and shut the door. “The least you could do it get the door.” Benny sighed and rushed the button, pushing it and running out the back door of the garage. “Here kid. Call someone I’m gonna need directions.”

When the door was high enough, she put the car in reverse and slammed on the break, ramming into a big guy before whipping the car around and shifting to drive and speeding away. She looks in the rearview mirror, smirking as they scrambled to get in their SUV’s to chase after her. “Uncle Bucky!” The kid in the backseat yelled. “I escaped! A woman is bringing me to you! But she doesn’t know where to go!”

“Hit the Bluetooth kid.” She said as she maneuvered through cars. “Hey Uncle Bucky. I’m probably gonna have cops on my ass and I’d appreciate it if you or anyone let them know that the bad guys are not in the grey altered Camaro.”

“Go-”

“Who’s this?” A voice questioned.

“Oh wow. You must be the Captain.” She said with a smirk. “Look Soldier Boy I need you to give me a route to you so that the kid is safe. Asking me questions isn’t going to cut it right now.” She jumped when there were shots fired at her car. “Shit.” She looked back, pulling the emergency break to make a last-minute turn. “Good thing I’ve got the new windows. Look Soldier Boy can you get me a route or not?”

“We’ve got you!” Someone in the background yelled. “Go straight and then make a left at the light.”

“Hold on Kid!” She yelled when someone pulled up beside her and slammed into the side. “Watch the paint!” She yelled at the driver who pulled out a gun. She looked forward, noticing the line of cars in front of them and pulled the emergency break, screeching to a stop as the truck slammed into another car. “You alright kid!?” She looked back, putting the car in reverse. “Find me a new route there’s traffic there!” She turned the car and stepped on the gas, heading down a one way.

“You’re going the wrong way!” The kid yelled from the back seat.

“That’s the point!” She yelled back as she pressed her horn. She moved out of the way, watching as people blocked the way of the people chasing her. “See Kid. That bought us some time.” She chuckled. “You still with me Soldier Boy? Where do I go?”

“Make a right and then turn left.” Steve said as he paced on the other end.

“Yes sir.” She did as she was instructed, keeping an eye out for anyone following her. “Now who the Hell are you?”

��Let’s just say… I’m a woman that can’t let a kid get hurt.” She said. “Kid hold on!” She yelled and a car slammed into her bumper. “Shit!” They started shooting again, breaking the rear window. “Get us the fuck out of here Soldier Boy!”

“They’re on their way to them now! Once they get to the inner-city compound, they’ll be safe!”

She gasped when a car appeared in front of her, a man pointing a gun as her. “Down!” She yelled as she ducked. “We don’t have time for reaching the compound! They’re fucking up my car!” She sat up, swerving out of the way of a car they tried to get her to run into.

She watched a woman throw spikes in front of her car, but she turned the car, her back tire getting hit as she sped down the road. “What was that?”

“My car is reinforced but not that reinforced.” She reached pulled the passenger seat up, adjusting the tanks full of NOS. “Do you have your seat belt on kid?” She looked back, noticing the cars gaining on her.

“Good.” She turned a corner. “Is that it there!?” She questioned, pointing to the large building that was at the end of the road.

“Yeah.” The girl nodded.

“Good. Now hold on because I’m going to do something extremely dangerous.” She flipped a switched, finger hovering over a button as she went to max speed.

“Dangerous!?” Steve questioned. “What do you think you’re doing!?”

“Saving a life… probably ending one.” She pushed the button.

The car sped up, pushing them back against the seats as she kept her foot on the gas. She noticed the makeshift metal ramp and shook her head. “I’m going for it!” She yelled.

“No! I wanna go back with them!” The kid yelled. “I don’t wanna die!”

“Hold on!” She took the ramp, flying over the intersection and barely missing the top of a tour bus as she cleared the wall.

The car slammed against the ground, bouncing once. She groaned, looking back at the terrified kid. “Look you’re alive.” She laughed smiling brightly and driving towards the entrance of the building. She destroyed bushes and hedges as her car slow rolled onto the gravel. She pulled into looped driveway, watching as multiple people rushed out with guns in hand. “So much for a welcoming party.”

The back door was yanked off, making her jump and climb out of her car. “I’m so happy you’re safe.” Steve said as he hugged his God Daughter.

“Dude my door.” She moved to walk around it, ignoring the people pointing their guns at her until someone stepped in her way, putting their hand on her shoulder. “Why’d you take my door off? I could have unlocked it.” She stated.

“Y/n.” Steve said with a stern expression. “I had a feeling it was you.”

“Steve.” She smiled. “Long time no see.”

“I thought you stopped being a criminal.”

“I thought you retired.” She crossed her arms as she leaned against the back of the car. “Once a Hero always a Hero I guess.” She leaned her head to the side. “Or was it once a thief always a thief?”

“You two know each other?” Bucky questioned.

“You could say that.” Steve grumbled.

“If you count secret rendezvous as knowing each other then yeah… we know each other well.” Steve ordered everyone to head back in, leaving the two alone to have a talk.

“Why’d you save her? Did you do it to spite me?”

“Hmmm.” She tapped her chin. “Spite the man that left me for someone who didn’t love him and had an entire family with another man or save a kid that could have been dead if I didn’t save her.” She narrowed her eyes. “Honestly, Steven. Just because I’m wanted in the U.S doesn’t mean that I’m a cruel person.”

“You’re right.” He sighed, shaking his head. “I just didn’t expect you of all people to want to help.”

“Oh Steven.” She caressed his cheek, wanting to say what was on her mind but deciding against it. “What can I say… I’m complicated like that remember.” She turned to walk away but he grabbed her wrist, turning her and going to press his lips against her but stopping. “Still hesitant Soldier Boy?”

“I won’t hesitate this time.” He kissed her, pulling her closer against his body.

#evnscvll3kchallenge #writing challenge #Steve Rogers #racing #steve x reader

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bearhatarmy · 4 years

Photo

I really really miss photography.

Photography feels like an old friend I’ve lost touch with. It pains me greatly that I just don’t have the energy or stamina to do it anymore. It really filled a creative void after I was unable to create my original comedy posts any longer. My illness keeps taking and taking from me and it is a challenge to find ways to adapt and cope.

The saddest part is that I felt like I was just starting to master photography as an art form. I was at that point where I could instinctively do all of the technical things and concentrate purely on the art. Lighting was becoming intuitive to me instead of a complicated puzzle I had to solve each time.

Yes, I took a lot of photos that I am really proud of. (Which I am spreading throughout this post).

But sometimes I mourn the photos I could have taken if my chronic illness hadn’t worsened.

It’s also hard seeing the new cameras and lights that have been released since I had to stop. I *just* missed a technological revolution. New features that would have allowed me to do more with less energy. To push the boundaries of my creativity. To get shots I could only dream of back then.

Full frame mirrorless cameras have opened up so many creative possibilities. The low light performance, the detail, the dynamic range--it has all been improved greatly in just a few years. But there are also many automated usability features that allow the camera to offload work and concentration from the brain. These new digital wonders can even be used as cinematic quality video cameras--something I would have liked to have explored.

I had to take these match photos in a pitch-black room, with a reversed lens, with no control over my aperture, and a manual flash. It took forever to time it properly because I had a whopping 3 frames per second. It would have been a cinch with a mirrorless camera, with super fast burst modes and an electronic viewfinder. You can see exactly what your image will look like before snapping it. But you can also “see in the dark” using a high ISO preview. Before you had to use a live view mode on the back screen. But on older cameras that mode was clunky and slow and... it just sucked.

Enlarge!

MOAR BIGGER!

Weirdly, one of the biggest advances is due to a shortened “flange distance” where the lens connects to the camera body. It seems like a small thing. Literally only a centimeter or so. But because of the lack of mirror, camera designers are able to move the lens closer to the sensor and design more advanced lenses with incredible sharpness. Combined with increased megapixel counts, that would have been amazing for my macro photos.

Electronic viewfinders take the guesswork out of exposure--even in bright sunlight where screens get washed out from glare. And being able to compose portraits with highly accurate eye-tracking autofocus would have been a tremendous advantage.

No more “focus and recompose.”

No more “Did I get the eye? Let me zoom to 100% on this tiny screen.”

I could have spent more of my concentration getting natural expressions from my subjects and composing my photos without distraction.

And IBIS!

I missed out on motherhecking IBIS!

This photo of my wonderful friend Erin was taken handheld at sunset. The original RAW version was extremely dark--even though I was using a high ISO. I had to do a ton of work to get this to not look like noisy garbage. But there just wasn’t any other way to capture it... UNTIL NOW.

IBIS (eye-bus/👀-🚌) or “in-body image stabilization,” allows the camera sensor to kind of... float. You can eliminate camera shake caused by the subtle micro-movements when handholding.

How do I explain it? Ummmm...

It turns the sensor into a chicken head.

So instead of increasing the ISO (which is like a volume knob for light which gets grainier as you crank it), you can lower your shutter speed. In the past, depending on the lens, 1/60th of a second was about as slow as you could set it. With IBIS, as long as the scene you are capturing is relatively still, you can take photos in very low light without a tripod. This is great because tripods are a pain in the ass and you can’t always have one handy. Plus, you can combine an IBIS camera with a stabilized lens to get a de-blurrification multiplier. Then you can get sharp handheld photos that are technically considered long exposure. I’ve heard people say they got sharp photos exposing at several seconds. Literally going from a fraction of a second to 2 goddamn Missisisppi. I can’t even quantify how many fantastic photos are being taken right now that would have been unusable blurry messes a few years ago. We get to enjoy these photos all because they installed a chicken head inside cameras.

AND DARN IT ALL TO HECK I HECKING MISSED IT, GOSH HECKING DANG IT!.

Sorry... didn’t mean to curse like a sailor that stubbed his toe while stepping on a Lego.

I think I’ll have a cool refreshing root beer to calm my IBIS envy.

(Those water droplets are a total fraud, by the way. It’s fake blood without the red added.)

And with the progress in battery and wireless technology, artificial lighting has become lighter and more portable while still being powerful enough to compete with the sun. I could have used strobe lights in my little studio, packed them up into a small case, and gone to the middle of the field to use them there.

Yes, I was able to convert my old studio lights to be “portable-ish” but we had to lug so much equipment to accomplish this photo of Brittany in the red dress. The battery pack alone weighed as much as one modern light. I was stuck in bed for a week afterward from all of the carrying of heavy gear.

Before that, this was my hacked together “outdoor” light. The Flash-O-Tron 3000. It looks cool but it was delicate and hard to get through doorways.

After charging 12 AA batteries overnight, I had to drag this contraption outside at the buttcrack of dawn to get my favorite photo of Otis.

I had to use a handheld mirror to reflect my popup flash in the direction of the Flash-O-Tron 3000 to trigger it. It worked about 25% of the time. Oh, and I was laying on cold wet grass, manually tracking Otis--who refused to sit still. I had to line up a single autofocus point on his head for every snap. The concentration required felt like my brain was juggling chainsaws.

But guess what they invented last year?

PET. EYE. AUTOFOCUS.

ARE YOU KIDDING ME?

A little robot inside the camera is all, “Hey, that’s your dog’s eye!” and just follows it no matter where your pup moves.

I NEEDED THAT SO BAD!

This shot took 10 minutes of me trying to lock onto his eye with a macro lens. The depth of field at that distance was the width of his eye and, again, he does not sit still.

I want a time machine so I can go back and retake every blurry Otis photo.

Also, many of the modern strobes have NO WIRES. You just stick a thing on top of your camera and you can set off lights several football fields away. My photo studio has tons of wires routed in the ceiling and coming out of the walls.

[Hi-Res Version]

And then those wires all go into a weird analog remote with old school sliders that controlled the power of the flashes. But the sliders were difficult to finely adjust.

Now you can load an app on your phone and adjust the flash power digitally and adjust the brightness in 10% increments. You can save lighting ratios and recall them instantly. And you can preview your work with high powered LED modeling lights so you don’t have to take 50 test shots.

No more nudging a light and taking a picture. Raising the power and taking a picture. Swapping out a modifier and taking a picture. Back and forth, back and forth.

Essentially, what you see is what you get, so setting up lighting takes a fraction of the time and effort with these new lights and cameras. That would have been so helpful with my disability.

Oh... the lights are less expensive too.

The future of camera tech looks exciting as well. I think the computational photography that is in the latest smartphones will soon be added to more professional cameras. That is going to make high-end photography so much more accessible to anyone who wants to try it as a hobby. The learning curve will flatten further, and as long as you are creative, you will be able to take beautiful, high-quality photos.

Some might say that not having all of the new tech helped me gain important experience, expertise, and problem-solving skills. Some believe the inconveniences are a photographer’s trial by fire. The struggle makes the art more authentic. And since I learned how to do it the hard way, my journey is more valid than some photography influencer on Instagram with an iPhone.

To that I say... BULLLLLSHEEIIIT.

Those inconveniences just made me SUPER DUPER TIRED.

And some of those influencers take really kickass photos. Not all of them are butts either.

I love photography but there is a reason I had to stop. Like anything, doing it well was a lot of work. I always ended up having to quit taking photos much sooner than I wanted. I had to scale back my ambition to fit my energy requirements. I could only do photography on days when my body was cooperating fully. I had to cancel many photoshoots because the preparation was just too much to handle. And after my bigger projects it took me forever to recover.

GIVE ME ALL THE CONVENIENCES PLEASE.

That “you have to struggle” attitude is no-good-gatekeepy-ableist crap.

Old photographer grumps are upset because they spent years learning how to focus manually on horseback and use the sunny 16 rule and develop film in a converted shed they built by hand and now “those darn kids” can use an iPhone on a skateboard while doing a kickflip with their eyes closed and still pull focus.

However, despite there being a lower barrier for entry, the technological improvements add new complications to the advanced side of things. So you can make photography as difficult as you desire if you are willing to learn new stuff. Which old school photo grumps are notoriously averse to.

This new tech has all kinds of novel things to discover and figure out. There is drone photography. There is advanced macro photography using robotic focusing rails and ever-improving focus stacking software. You can now network more lights together than ever before. Karl Taylor did a photoshoot with 12 lights! (Captain Picard would totally lose his shit.) Long lasting batteries and computerized sliders have created new timelapse possibilities. Stabilization software allows complex hyperlapse videos. Better low light performance and sharper lenses with big apertures combined with stacking or star trail software has improved astrophotography. Advances in material science have allowed darker and darker high quality neutral density filters for extreme long exposure photos. New focus tracking algorithms have allowed for wildlife photography that was never possible before. You can capture fast-moving birds in the sky from farther away and still get amazing detail. Faster burst modes allow people to capture split-second action. Never miss a good header at your kid's soccer games. (Is that a thing? I have no kids and don’t remember how to soccer.) IBIS allows photography without a tripod. So now people can trek to harder to reach areas, AT NIGHT, and take sharp photos with little noise. Increased dynamic range and new HDR displays will allow photographers to take images of lights and capture their actual intensity. What if the lights in photos could glow like they do in real life? Think about a neon sign at night in the rain reflecting in a puddle. That would look so neat.

Not to mention learning how to process photos in editing software is an entirely separate and challenging skillset you can master. There are thousands of techniques you can learn to elevate your images. Dodging & burning, frequency seperation, and compositing, oh my! Programs like Lightroom and Photoshop are constantly updated with new features that expand possibilities.

None of that is easy. It will all require diligent study and practice to master. Technical skills will always be an aspect of photography that anyone can pursue. But not everyone will need as much technical skill to start having fun and create art.

And much to the chagrin of those grumps... phones are perfectly viable to create that art and they will keep getting better.

You might find it odd that this love letter and goodbye to photography has so much talk of technical gadgetry. But, for me, it isn’t out of place in this sentimental essay. Technology was my first love. My parents bought me a 66mhz Packard Bell computer when I was 12 and technology was the first thing I was ever good at. I learned every function of that machine. I would sometimes break it just so I could learn how to fix it. I took it apart and put it back together. It was my first true obsessive hobby. I found my creativity soon after, and I immediately used that technology to help me create art. I wrote comedy. I learned how to digitally paint. I recorded music. And eventually I found photography. It was the perfect marriage of technology and art. I could nerd out as much as I want while still getting my creative fix.

So yeah... I miss it all.

I miss all of the technical nerdery. I miss trying out new gadgets. I miss editing the photos I’ve taken. I miss taking pictures of my beautiful friends. I miss taking pictures of weird products. I miss asking Delling to call apiaries to find me freshly dead bees so I can take macro shots of their fuzzy little torsos.

I really hope some day I find a treatment that gives me enough energy to take photos again.

Thankfully my writing helps me feel creative and productive and fulfilled. And it’s something I can do even if I’m not able to get out of bed. And I am grateful I have so many awesome people that actually want to read what I have to say.

So thanks to everyone for that.

I always find a way to move forward. That’s just the nature of surviving chronic illness. But glancing back at what I lost is a pain I never quite get used to.

Though, writing this has helped.

Looking back at all that I accomplished has helped.

And I do feel lucky I was able to accomplish what I did--even if missing it makes me sad sometimes.

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ilovemygaydad · 5 years

Text

title: until we meet again

pairing: demus (deceit/remus)

summary: a zombie apocalypse isn’t the place to be catching feels. unfortunately, dc is doing exactly that with a mysterious man that he met in an alley.

word count: 4.1k

warnings: remus, deceit, sympathetic deceit, zombie apocalypse, mentions of cuts and bruises, swearing, heated making out sessions, implied nudity, weapons, threats, almost attempted murder, mentions of broken glass, mentions of casual sex, mentions of hickeys, innuendos, fainting (once), mentions of STDs, death mentions, crying, sadness, anxiety, sort of breakups? it really isn’t one but idk, sexual attraction, possibly something else

***this fic obviously has a lot of triggers in it, so if you have any questions or concerns, or if you need a summary of parts with specific triggers, please send me an ask! your safety is my number one priority here, and i would hate for anybody to be engaging in unsafe reading practices!***

a/n: so this is... new for me. i’ve never written this ship or this kind of au, nor have i had deceit be the main character (in a serious manner, at least), and i’ve never attempted remus seriously, either. i hope i didn’t fuck up the descriptions of sexual attraction and making out because idk what i’m doing as a sex repulsed asexual! rip me i guess lol. also shoutout to @adultmorelikeadolt for listening to me ramble about this and proof reading it <3 they’re the real mvp here, so check their stuff out, too!!! also, this got way longer than i thought... whoops?

a/n 2: this is heavily based off of death valley by fall out boy! you can listen to it here

Commission Info

consider buying me a coffee

---

DC breathed a heavy sigh of relief as soon as the beat-up VW bus screeched to a stop inside of the checkpoint station. It had been far too long since the last one, and each mile that ticked off on the odometer made him increasingly anxious. The dense forests of Maine were the perfect hiding spots for zombies or bandits, which Virgil so fantastically liked to point out every time that it got dark. Yet they trudged deeper and deeper into the state, driving towards the safety of Canada.

But finally, they had made it.

Roman threw the bus into park and hopped out of the driver’s seat, and the others piled out of the back right after. The checkpoint station was huge--easily one of the largest in the country--but its size made sense given that it was one of two in the entirety of New England. DC gazed around the part of the checkpoint that he could see, and he was in awe at how normal it looked. Other than the giant fences and sentries, it looked like an average New England town. If he hadn’t known any better, he would have believed that there had never been a zombie outbreak in the first place.

Neat, uniform streets of houses stretched before him with shops-turned-supply-stations interspersed between them. Children were outside playing, and adults were going about their days with only a slightly heightened level of concern. Unlike all of the other stations they’d passed through on their way from Miami, it was clean and calm, and a person didn’t have to worry about being pickpocketed or stabbed on their way back from getting their rations.

The guards advanced on them, and Patton talked to the officers as they searched the bus for illegal contraband. Once the bus was clear, they were ushered into the nearest building--a small, gray brick cube that looked more like a sad excuse for a shed than anything--and were tested for the virus. With the exception of Logan fainting, the group was completely cleared to continue into the checkpoint without issue. A guide was designated to them for their month-long stay both to help them become familiar with the checkpoint and to dissuade any of the residents from becoming hostile towards the newcomers.

They drove fifteen minutes into the checkpoint to the visitor park, which was where they were allowed to park the bus. Although their guide, whose name was Remy, offered them a tour, they politely declined. They had been on the road for nearly six days, only stopping to rest or refuel, which might have been circumnavigated had it not been for the Pittsburgh checkpoint being on lockdown.

Long story short, they were tired and really just needed to sleep.

Well, everyone else needed to sleep. DC was too keyed up from the trip to feel anything other than restless, so as soon as he was sure the others were asleep and that the sun had set, he snuck out of the bus and took to the darkest alleys of the checkpoint. He moved with expert silence through the night. His feet took him far from the bus to a more desolate area. Similarly to a normal city, the checkpoint had a dilapidated section of buildings that the more unfortunate people lived, which seemed proportional to the size of the area.

It was eerily silent amidst the ruined structures. Aside from the occasional rat skittering across an alley, it was completely, utterly quiet.

Footsteps echoed just behind DC. Those footsteps were not his own.

Lightning fast, DC had his stalker pinned against the crumbling brick wall. He expected a fight back, but the man was merely grinning at him in glee. Electric green eyes stared at him with an unnerving amount of energy.

��The last time someone pinned me against a wall, both parties ended up without clothes on,” the man giggled, leaning his head as far forward as DC’s hold would allow. His mustache twisted along with each movement of his mouth. “I wouldn’t mind if this interaction ended the same way.”

DC decided to ignore that comment. “Why were you following me?”

“‘Cause you’re new! We never get visitors.”

That seemed fair. People tended to stay at their original checkpoints.

“And I think you’re hot.”

“Oh, and that makes stalking me so much better. I’m not disgusted by you right now.”

The man’s odd smile grew. “People usually are, so I’m not surprised.”

DC didn’t even know how to reply. He opened and closed his mouth, scouring his brain for a comeback, when a rogue hand tugged on his belt loop. Before he could even process what was happening, their positions had been reversed.

Oh, shit.

“You’re so pretty when you’re pretending to be tough!” The man was surprisingly strong, and his hands held DC firmly in place regardless of how much he struggled. “I wonder what it would be like when you’re angry. Just fully animalistic.”

“Fuck you,” DC spat.

“Promise?”

Logan probably would have been worried about how aggressively DC rolled his eyes. “In your dreams.”

“Who says we can’t make dreams a reality?” the man whispered in a voice that sent a chill running through DC’s blood. Was this man seriously flirting with him? Was he seriously flirting back?

“I don’t give myself up so easy to dirty street dwellers.”

The man smirked, and a dark glitter flashed in his eyes. “I put the ‘d’ in dirt, baby. I can show you if you’d like.”

DC was suddenly glad that the scars covering the left half of his face were gnarly enough to distract from any blushing.

“Come on,” the man crooned. “Come with me, and I can show you a good time.”

“No. No, I can’t.” DC rushed, and to his surprise, he was immediately let go.

“Okay.” The man took a step back, allowing DC an escape route.

“Okay?”

The man gestured down the alley, still smiling. “You are free to go. I can’t keep you here.”

“Oh,” DC said. “Okay.”

As DC walked away, the man called, “Good bye!” He pretended that he didn’t hear.

---

For some godforsaken reason, DC found himself sitting on a dumpster in the alley the next day. Being out at night didn’t affect him much as he tended to prefer sleeping during the day, and he had yet to be caught by either guards or the rest of his group. Still, he hadn’t exactly been expecting to want to return to the place where he had met the strange man.

But he had, so there he was, sitting on a dumpster lid and staring up at the sky.

“BOO!” a voice suddenly shouted behind DC, and he barely managed to catch himself before he could be sent tumbling to the pavement. The same giggling from the night before echoed through the alley as the man skipped around the dumpster, stopping right in front of DC. “Hiya!”

“Hello.”

“I can’t believe you came back! People don’t usually want to be in this area of the checkpoint.”

“Well,” DC said, shrugging. “I’ve been told that I’m very usual.”

The man laughed, setting his elbow on the edge of the dumpster to place his chin in his palm. “You’re so funny!”

“Thanks.” DC tried to imagine what the man had found so funny, but his train of thought was cut short when the man moved again. He crossed his arms on the dumpster edge and rested his chin on DC’s crossed legs, looking up through his thick lashes. It took every ounce of restraint not to make a strangled noise at the very, very intimate position.

“So... Why did you come back?”

There was a second that DC considered lying, but he knew deep down that this man would be able to tell. “You.”

“Oh,” the man said breathily as if all of the air had been knocked out of his lungs.

“Kiss me?”

The tone of the man’s voice (the man--DC didn’t even know his name) turned dark, and he said, “God, yes.”

They moved quickly, and the second that DC’s boots hit the pavement, he was pressed back against the dumpster with a searing kiss. He hadn’t felt such an intense fire under his skin since before the apocalypse--since before he’d sworn off feelings altogether. A sharp flash of teeth ran across his lip before biting down so hard that DC was surprised his skin didn’t break. In retaliation, he thread his fingers in the other man’s hair and tugged, which elicited a surprised moan out of his companion.

If DC’s skin had been on fire before, he was burning now, and he took advantage of the distraction to deepen the kiss further. Too soon, the other man pulled away, grinning dangerously with shining green eyes. His cheeks held a heavy flush that matched the red swell of his lips.

“Do you want to take this somewhere more appropriate?” he asked in a husky voice that nearly made DC’s knees give out.

“Please.”

---

DC continued to sneak out to meet up with the strange man. It was fun and extremely enjoyable, so why wouldn’t he go back? He had to spend the month in the checkpoint anyway; it made sense to find something to do (literally) in his free time. Once his time was up, he would leave, and everything would go back to normal.

He could forget any of these meetings ever happened.

He would.

Because they were merely for sex. Nothing else.

They didn’t mean anything.

DC turned his head to look at the man next to him. They still didn’t know each others’ names. They were two strangers who happened to cross paths in a dingy alley. Nothing more than the product of long lines of choices. A high that they just couldn’t get enough of.

The man’s eyes were closed, and his breathing was even and deep. In the moonlight that shined through the broken window, the gray streak in his hair glimmered like a silver lake. The soft part of his lips was starkly juxtaposed with the harsh bruises and scrapes on his skin. If it were any other time, DC would have described him as stunning.

Wait.

...

No.

No. No, He wasn’t thinking like that. Sure, the man was attractive, but that was it. He was a good fuck--a good time during the god damn zombie apocalypse. DC wasn’t some fucking teenage YA protagonist yearning for the pretty bad boy. It wasn’t like he’d fallen in love with this crass, borderline violent stranger.

Holy shit, DC had fallen in love, and he had no idea what to do with himself.

The man’s eyes fluttered open and met his gaze. He yawned and propped himself onto his elbow, grinning his usual Cheshire smile. DC’s heart pounded heavily in his chest.

“Ready for another round?” the man teased as he traced the hickeys on DC’s neck.

“I-I’ve gotta go!” DC scrambled off of the stained mattress, throwing on his clothes with urgency.

“What?”

“I just--I have to go.”

The man couldn’t even get another word in before the door to his room slammed closed.

---

The following three days were spent moping, napping, and pointedly not leaving the bus. Mostly napping. Definitely not moping.

He didn’t want to think about the pretty man from the alley. No part of his mind wanted to be reminded of soft lips and green eyes and burning passion. It was so damn tiring to confront the horrible reality of DC being in love.

Because this was the apocalypse.

And he was going to leave in a couple of weeks.

The apocalypse was neither the time nor place to grow attached to a man who skulked around in alleys like the rat bastard that he was.

But god, he had fallen hard. DC would close his eyes and see a silver streak and tan, calloused hands and shiny scars. Memories of sharp teeth on sensitive skin mingled with the sensation of hot flashes in his blood, quickening his heart rate as he wished to go back and be held and loved. What deity had he angered in a past life to deserve the burden of emotions? Why couldn’t he have just stayed in the bus on the second day instead of going to the alley? How was he supposed to move on?

A sad, strangled noise escaped his throat as he contemplated his existence.

The back door of the bus swung open, and DC stilled, pretending to be asleep. He was luckily turned away from the door, so his tear-streaked face wasn’t visible to whomever opened the door. They clambered in and shut the door with a heavy thunk. They sat, of course, right behind DC’s back.

“Dee, I know you’re awake,” Virgil said. “I could hear you sobbing from outside.”

“I know what you’re talking about, Virgil. I was crying.”

Virgil huffed out a short laugh. “Wow, double lies. That’s pretty impressive.”

“Don’t go away.”

“Alright. I won’t.”

DC turned to glare at Virgil. There was no reason to hide his obvious crying when Virgil had already called him out on it. “I hate you.”

Virgil smiled sympathetically. “I know, Dee, but you’ve been in this slump for days now. Even Logan is starting to notice that you’re upset. What’s wrong?”

“I just...” he trailed off, trying to think of what he wanted to say. “I met someone.”

“We all have met people in the checkpoint, dude. We don’t know anybody here--oh. Oh, you met someone.” Virgil’s eyes went wide as the realization hit him like a truck. “You fell for them.”

“Yeah, well, it doesn’t matter anymore. I ran away.”

“You what?!” Virgil screeched.

“Please, continue acting so incredibly melodramatic. It suits you,” DC grumbled. He rolled his eyes and turned away.

Virgil scoffed. “I can’t believe how fucking stupid you are! I might as well have a god damn rock for a friend.”

“Your words are so kind.”

“I’m sorry that you threw away your own fucking happiness because you’re afraid of love! You had it, DC. You found someone, and you want to just throw it away!”

DC pulled himself up, throwing a harsh look at Virgil. “We have less than two weeks left in this checkpoint. When that time is up, we will leave, and I will never see him again. Continuing to see him will only bring me more distress, not to mention that I have no idea if he even feels anything for me aside from sexual attraction.”

“Dude, can you shut the fuck up for a second? Seriously, for the past few weeks, you were happier than I’d seen you since well before the apocalypse.” Virgil let out a heavy sigh. “At least apologize. I know you like to keep up your morally-gray schtick, but he deserves to hear why you ran away.”

There were a few seconds of angry silence before DC spat, “I love when you’re right!”

Virgil merely smiled and pat his shoulder, climbing out of the van.

The sun wouldn’t be setting for a few hours, so DC had plenty of time to figure out what the fuck he was supposed to say.

---

It felt like major déjà-vu for DC to be sitting on the same dumpster, hoping that the man would show up. Sure, he could have just traveled to the man’s odd little apartment, but it was far more difficult to make a quick escape from a building than it was an alley. Thus, DC had settled to take his chances of sitting on the dumpster should his partner (fuck buddy? significant other???) be furious.

Anger was a pretty valid response given the circumstances.

It had been a couple of hours since he’d arrived, and it was a bit chilly. He shivered, pulling his old leather jacket closer around him. His eyes squeezed shut as if he could will away the cold air. Canada’s weather was going to be an absolute bitch if Maine was bordering on unbearable for DC.

“Oh,” a familiar voice exclaimed from in front of the dumpster, and DC’s eyes snapped open. The man had his hands on his hips in a childlike pose, but the glimmer in his eyes bordered on murderous. “Y’know, I was starting to think I’d have to hunt you down myself, but you just waltzed back in like the idiot you are!” He shifted slightly, and the moonlight caught the metal of the knife in his hand.

“Don’t wait!” DC cried when the man lifted his arm in preparation to strike. “I didn’t want to apologize. Please, you don’t have to hear me out!”

“I do? I didn’t realize that I was under the jurisdiction of lying bastards!” The man laughed, but it was dark and lacking any humor.

“I love you,” DC blurted before he could stop himself. He clamped his hands over his mouth in horror.

I love you. The words hung in the air like a child’s mobile. They couldn’t be retracted; they couldn’t be taken back. Each syllable stuck in reality. I love you.

“Oh,” the man said, staring at DC in shock. “You aren’t lying.”

“Yes,” he lied. “I am. I wasn’t scared of my feelings. My friends and I won’t leave in a week and a half, and after that...”

The man let the knife drop to the pavement with a heavy clatter, moving to take DC’s hands. “We’re going to die. It’s just a matter of time before it happens, but what we do with that time is up to us.” He paused, and a wicked smirk twisted his lips. “Who you do is also a choice to make.”

DC choked out a laugh because it was so familiar to hear a stupid innuendo coming from this man’s lips. Love coursed through his veins for all of the stupidest reasons, but it felt so good. Virgil had been right--he was happy. He was purely, simply happy. For once, the apocalypse was on the back of his mind, and he was enjoying existence.

“I won’t have to leave,” he murmured despite himself. “It will last.”

“We’ll burn that bridge when we get to it. Let’s make every second of this next week and a half count, okay?”

Maybe Virgil had been right about DC being an idiot, too, because he nodded and said, “Okay.”

---

There were only twelve hours remaining before DC had to leave the Maine checkpoint station.

There were only twelve hours remaining before DC had to leave the only person that he’d ever truly loved.

They were laying together on the man’s mildly disgusting mattress. The man--yes, he was still known as the man because they decided anonymous identities would be best--was lightly tracing his fingers down the bare skin of DC’s back, which would have been soothing if they hadn’t been acutely aware of the clock running out.

“You should come with us,” DC whispered. He’d been mulling the idea around in his mind for a while, but he hadn’t known how to bring it up.

“What?”

“Come with us,” he repeated fervently, sitting up. “The rest of the group wouldn’t mind one more person, and we could easily take you across the border.”

“No.”

It was DC’s turn to say, “What?”

“No,” the man sighed as he sat up as well. “I can’t go with you.”

“Why not?!”

“Look around!” He gestured at the debris-filled room. Glass and rock littered most of the floor, and the rest was covered in clothes and containers of food. “I have no worth. I despise using the characteristics of ‘good’ and ‘bad,’ but it isn’t fair to such kind people to have to take on someone like me.”

“They’d be happy to let you tag along--”

“I know, but I have to make it on my own.” His green eyes sparked with determination. “I’ll make it on my own.”

“Will you promise? I don’t care if it’s meaningless, but... it’ll make it easier to leave if I have reassurance that you’ll find me.” DC let his fingers intertwine with the other man’s in an attempt to forget about the pit in his stomach.

“I promise.”

---

One Year Later

Things had finally started settling down for the group. Nearly all of them had been able to secure some sort of job, and they had a roof over their heads that wasn’t attached to a vintage bus. Things were good. DC was happy, healthy, and safe.

A bit lonely, but he still had his friends.

He knew deep down that the man he’d met in Maine wouldn’t make it to Canada. DC had left him with a map marked with where the group was going to end up, but without a mode of transportation, the whispered promises to find each other would stay in the crumbling ruins of an apartment complex. That was okay, even if his heart still held on to the green-eyed stranger like there was a chance of being together.

When he’d eventually told the others of his fling, they’d all been supportive in their own ways. Patton gave him a long hug and whispered gentle reassurances into his ears, and Roman had told him that anything was possible until proven impossible. Logan scolded him about being reckless, claiming that he would have been pissed that DC had survived the apocalypse for so long just to be taken down by potential STDs. Even though Virgil had already known, he still offered a shoulder to cry on. DC would never admit it, but he appreciated how loved he felt.

He shook his head to clear his mind. It was nearly two in the morning; he should’ve been trying to sleep instead of dwelling on the past. Logan always liked to preach about circadian rhythm and all that jazz.

Whatever. DC cut his losses and went to the tiny kitchen, throwing a pot of water on the stove to boil. He took out his mug and a packet of chamomile tea that Patton had stocked for his insomnia as he waited. At least he was trying to coax his body into sleep. Virgil usually just listened to news stations on the radio until the sun rose. Old, paranoid habits died hard, he supposed.

A knock at the door pulled DC out of his thoughts. They never received any visitors, and they definitely were never this late at night. Cautiously, he grabbed the heavy flashlight from its spot next to the hall closet. He prepared to swing at whoever was outside and peered out of the peephole.

Bright green eyes stared back at him, and the flashlight clattered to the ground, barely missing his foot. He flung the door open because there was no way that he was seeing things right, but standing less than a meter away was the man from Maine. DC couldn’t believe his eyes. It couldn’t be real.

“Hey,” the man said as though they had never been apart.

“Holy shit.”

The man giggled, playfully setting his fists on his hips. “I traveled nearly three hundred miles to see you, and this is the greeting I get?”

DC wasn’t able to respond as Roman’s tired voice appeared behind him. “Dee, wha’s goin’ on?”

“Dee? Oh, that’s a cute nickname!” The man turned to Roman and said, “Hi! I’m his boyfriend.”

That sobered DC up fast. “He’s the one from Maine.” My boyfriend.

“Oh! Holy shit!” Roman’s eyes went wide with realization.

“Roman, this is...?”

“Remus,” the man supplied.

“Roman, this is Remus.” The name felt like gold on his tongue. “Remus, this is my friend, Roman.”

Roman held out his hand, which Remus shook. “I can’t believe you made it. How’d you even find us?”

“I secretly embedded a tracker in Dee’s skin before he left!” Roman looked horrified, and Remus cackled at the response. “Just kidding! He told me that you were going to Moncton, and I just asked around about a VW bus for a while until I found you.”

“Right...” It seemed that Roman had become thoroughly uncomfortable by Remus’ sense of humor. “I’m gonna go back to bed.” He paused, making direct eye contact with his friend. “And DC? Don’t be loud or whatever.”

“We won’t,” he assured at the same time that Remus said, “No promises!”

As soon as the door to Roman’s room was shut, DC threw himself into Remus’ arms. “You actually did it.”

“I did,” he said. “I promised.”

“I didn’t think you’d actually make it!” DC cried, feeling hot tears brim in his eyes.

“I didn’t either, Dee. I really didn’t.”

“I love you.”

Remus’ fingers tangled in his hair. “I love you, too.”

And maybe DC cried, but that was okay. He had someone to wipe the tears away, now.

now with a part 2 minific

#sanders sides fic #demus #ts deceit #ts remus #sympathetic deceit #deceit sanders #remus sanders #virgil sanders #m writes things #roman sanders #logan sanders #patton sanders

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stone-man-warrior · 5 years

Text

February 12, 2020: 5:50 pm:

I just returned from running an errand in Dystopia, Grants Pass Oregon, where Socio-Terrific conditions exist to the extent that all of the inhabitants of Josephine County Oregon have all been killed and replaced with terror soldiers who compose a unconventional Christian army from Canada, under Screen Actor Guild leadership who are commanded by the British throne.

I went to:

Walgreen’s.

On the way, I encountered a terror representative from Josephine County Courts, someone from the Buck Baker terror cell, husband of Honorable Judge Lindi Baker who was killed in defense at the AM/PM Luke’s Arco gas station at some point about one year ago, specifics are available on this Tumblr account, search the entries.

That Buck Baker reprsentative was driving a large big rig truck, red, with low-bow trailer, and road grading machine loaded in the reverse direction. That big rig is known to belong at the Burton Mitchel Dietrick SAG heroin distribution terror cell at 601 “MyStreet”. Only a drive-by occurred while I was unlocking my gate to leave. There is almost always a terror soldier there to drive by as I unlock my gate when I leave my home, and serves as a warning, and a threat to let me know that the terror is everywhere that I am, always, day or night, and that they know where I am, at all times.

I also passed by Richard Chartrand terror cell at 376, where this car is only present on the day’s that I go to a pharmacy, or to my doctor. There is no other time that I have seen this car at Chartrand’s. This photo is older, however, that car was there, and I went to a pharmacy.

On the way, I encountered the usual suspects who come from the “Baby Shell” terror cell at Oxyoke & Three Pines Road, a British terror HQ, and those people, today was five cars, make sure that they get a visual of my position once they get the word that I have left my home. They need to make sure that I did not take an alternate route, which could spoil the Hit attempt planned for someplace along the way.

The usual vehicle came around Dead Man’s Curve at the same time I did, however, today was only a small car, and not a gigantic truck in my lane.

Only when I leave to town do I encounter vehicles at Dead Man’s Curve, never, on the return trip back home.4

There was a terror marker/communication at the freeway on on-ramp area, in the vacant dirt field on the Southbound side of I-5 exit 66. Two of them, some white cardboard boxes inside of some brown cardboard boxes, squished. Also,three small size traffic cones, each one standing on top of a dark colored cylinder shape thing. Those cones with cylinder were also present at a residence driveway on Monument Dr. across the street from where one of the county judges has a “Rental Home”. I forget which judge right now.

Those cones are there to tell terror assassins in the field, what kind of clothing I am wearing, and what terror assassin scenario they are running. Those small cones with cylinder, are a way of saying “Americone Dream”, is a flavor of Ice Cream, from Ben & Jerry’s. That, tells terror soldiers that the Lithia Dodge terror cell is in charge and are major players in the attack to kill me. Terror assassins in the field are instructed to take orders from Lithia Dodge with these cones, and other visual, physical markers in the town, distributed around the area, for communication.

More larger traffic cones were placed at the exits of both Rest Stops that are in between the exit 61 and 66, North and South side, each Rest Stop lined with trash can size Orange cones. Tells terror soldiers more about the “Americone Dream” Scenario, than I know about. I do know that those Rest Stop cones are the reason i was able to make the connection, the “Quantum Leap” necessary to recall the tweets that I included below. Had those large cones not been at the Rest Stop exits, I would not have made the connection to the Pope, or to BBC News. The reason, is the repetition, of a variety of cones along the way. The ones on the cylinders, those are there to remind the terror soldiers to think about the container that ice cream comes in. These are very subtle, physiological, subliminal messaging techniques used by Vatican terror. It’s very important that Public Safety people do not discount what I am explaining here.

This is not easy to explain in written words, so, I have to be confidant that someone who does global security work will take this as seriously as the terror army does.

All of the indicators included here and more, further translates to the idea that I will be referred to as “Jerry” in Blu-Tooth and face-to-face verbal communication. The Mark = “Jerry”, is what is going on with some of that comm, and inside information is required to know this.

Along Grants Pass Parkway, and on route to the Walgreen’s, there was a yellow short, school bus, beside me along the way, the bus was a brand new one, and was a Thomas Brand School Bus. That is communication to me, and to others that I am right beside that bus, and that the Bus, belongs to Honorable Judge Thomas Hull, Josephine County Courts.

At the Walgreen’s, the usual occurred, however, the white Dodge truck that speeds away was not present, and the white van that sounds an alarm when I arrive was also not present, until after a short time that I was already there. That white van I am not certain is the one that usually sounds an alarm, but is worth a mention.

Across from the Walgreen’s was a familiar part of today’s “Americone Dream” terror hit, at the donut shop parking lot, the scenario includes that there is some police vehicles, white ones, lights flashing, in the parking lot, with a man there who is being questioned, aggressively, by the impostor police, from a distance away from him, at gunpoint. That man has no shirt on, never has a short on when they do that, and is always in the Donut Store parking lot. That man is driving a vehicle that looks similar to my vehicle, and he is told to lay down. face down, on the black told surface of the parking lot there. I have seen that same man, same scene, same no shirt, same guns, same flashing lights, and even the same other cars that are parked at the parking lot, and more, dozens of times when I go into town that way, over in that area, near the Pacific Power HQ, and also near the Three Rivers Asante Hospital.

That scenario is part of a confusion service that the impostor police do, as part of the “Americone Dream” scenario, as well as other similar scenarios. Things like that donut shop activity are rolled out like small components to a larger system, just like any kind of thing that is made of components. It’s a “Plug-In” part to the “Americone Dream” that the Pope ordered.

At the pharmacy counter, there was a pharmacy technician helping the person in the drive-through. That pharmacy technician identified me to the person in the drive through, and to others who could here him. He spoke loudly. The way that was done, is with some “word magic”, alternative interpretive use of words.

“Are you sure you don’t want to go to a PREFERRED PHARMACY. You can get a DISCOUNT at your PREFERRED PHARMACY....”

“...PREFERRED PHARMACY...”

He said that about ten times in different sentences, loudly.

Translation:

Preferred = Pre + ferred

Pre = “First, primary, ahead, front”

Ferred = “Fur, hair”

The pharmacy technician told everyone within earshot, that the mark is in the front of the line, inside the pharmacy, with something interesting about hair going on with him.

I was standing at the counter at the pharmacy at that time.

Later, someone associated with a terror activity that is done by famous musicians and movie actors who come to Oregon on ”#SAGClubMed Heroin Junket”. The activity is called “Celebrity Death Match”, where a famous person has hired a fighter to engage in a fight to the death with someone who is not prepared for such fighting. That person checked in withe the Walgreen’s terror representative pharmacist there, and then looked at me real good, had a look, was informed that I was the mark. That person said “Forfeit”, and then the pharmacist announced that, with the words “Four Feet”, to cover what the fighter said, to hide it in some words.

The “Celebrity Death Match Fighter” decided he did not want to engage, and said so, to his people on comm, with that one word. “Forfeit”.

I have played this game many times, the “Forfeit” announcement happens often after the “Death Match” fighters have a look at me.

If you are reading this, and do global security, or other public safety work, and you choose to discount what I have explained here, you are a fool. But that is not all you are, because it’s real, and if you discount this, and I find out, I will suggest that you are part of the terrorism, if I am able to answer some questions about these entries officially. If your boss finds that you discounted this information, you may face charges of treason. and be ridiculed in your community for many tears to come. So, do not discount what I have explained here. There are no police to call on, and this and Twitter, are the only way I have found to get these reports to as many people as possible, to get some help. and to stop the mass murders, and to save lives of many people, and to preserve Freedom for everyone on Earth.

Please send help.

There is more to say, but I need to stop.

End terror reporting 7:35 pm.

==============================================

Also, these are the orders from the Vatican and from BBC News, to run that particular terror assassin play scenario. The terror bastards are Global, led from the Vatican, and supported on Twitter, to run prefabricated terror assassin scenarios, that all of the terror bastards globally, already know, and have practiced many times in successful murders of citizens world-wide.

These conditions and communication are extremely difficult to know. I know, I learned the hard way. That is why this information is very valuable to global security persons. These are real conditions, and will seem silly, or like they don’t make sense to anyone who is not a terror soldier. Extreme value here with this information.

This Tweet is the Pope’s order to use the “Americone Dream” terror scenario that all of the terror soldiers already know, and don’t need any more than that tweet to know what to do.

This Tweet from BBC News, helps to convey that they received and understand the orders from the Pope. The Pope sees this, and knows that the terror activity will take place as ordered. Other communication to terror soldiers in the field atre also contained in this Tweet from BBC News, Britain. to carry out orders to kill me. These are complicated matters, difficult to obtain, more difficult to decipher, and more difficult still, to survive.

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ciarawritesmarvel · 5 years

Text

wanderlust [3] - steve rogers

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Reader

Word Count: 4.6k (i’m going all out for this series)

Warnings: Definitely a little language, warning for heights I suppose and angst towards the end to be honest. I’m so sorry about this after EG but two very fluffy one shots the two days after today.

A/N: Part three! All I gotta say is sorry. This isn’t very nice. Well, it is to start with! I’m going to stop talking. Please tell me what you think of this one and I really hope you enjoy it, lovelies <3

Summary: Your best friend and colleague Steve Rogers only really wants to make you happy, even if that means taking you around the world to do so. Will you satisfy your wanderlust or somehow wander into love?

Prompt: I love you. And I’m sorry if that scares you but it won’t change. I love you. I have for a while now. [written for Attie’s 4K Challenge Challenge! @barnesrogersvstheworld]

masterlist is in my bio and tags will be in a reblog! Enjoy!

previous chapter

---

Gibraltar had been and gone. It was far too quick, the three days spent there flying by before you could fully grasp onto them, but they were still incredible . The first day had been wandering around and then an incredible dinner at the restaurant Tony recommended but you’d found some different things to do the past two days. You spent one atop Gibraltar Rock complete with a cable car ride, monkeys and Steve getting his sunglasses stolen. The final day was spent on the beach, lying on towels side by side, splashing into the sea and then running out again, the sand sticking awkwardly to your feet and legs. Steve stole you both some sunbeds after that and you spent the rest of the day sipping on soft drinks through straws, sunbathing either in silence or in quiet chatter, splashing each other in the sea and playing frisbee on the sand.

It felt like true peace.

You’d had to get a shuttle to Malaga in order to fly to your next destination. When there, it felt as if Tony had missed a trick in not including Malaga in the trip, as it was gorgeous, but the beach was far busier and you understood why he hadn’t. It wasn’t necessarily all that peaceful here.

From Malaga, came the flight to Ajaccio, Corsica, where you’d be spending two nights. You were already a little tired from the travelling, but didn’t let it bother you and this time you took the flight as a chance to sleep, your head lolling onto Steve’s shoulder within minutes of take off. 5 hours later and the man in the seat beside the two of you had to wake you up, as Steve’s head rested on top of yours as he slept too. He claimed it was because he couldn’t bear to stay awake and listen to your snoring. Cheeky bastard.

Tony had arranged a special trip for your day in Corsica, which turned out to only be a single day, since you arrived at 9pm and wanted to go straight to your hotel to sleep at that point. You’d be in Ajaccio tomorrow but leaving the next day. It was a quick turnaround.

You woke up at 9am in your hotel room and padded into the bathroom to get ready, lightly shaking Steve’s shoulder on your way past his bed in a bid to get him up. A cotton sundress and a pair of sensible flat sandals being the choice of the day, you emerged from the bathroom to find Steve sleepily wandering around the room, picking up his clothes. You exchanged smiles before he disappeared into the bathroom to get ready himself.

It was quite the walk to the tour bus, as Tony had booked you onto a coach trip that was supposed to be for people on an incredibly posh cruise, but when you asked how he’d did it he muttered something about contacts and you decided not to question him. The tour in question was one of the famous Prunelli Gorges, which Tony claimed had beautiful views and perfect photo opportunities. You had shrugged and agreed, ignoring the slight look of reproach on Pepper’s face as he booked it and the sharp words they’d exchanged afterwards. Couldn’t have been anything too worrying.

“Have you looked up what the Prunelli Gorges actually are?” Steve asked you as you walked through the streets, staring at the route on your phone as if your life depended on it. Every so often he would have to grab your elbow and manoeuvre you out of the way of oncoming passers-by, or even walls.

“No, I wanted it to be a surprise. You?”

“Same here. Do you think it’ll be like a smaller grand canyon?”

“I dunno. Maybe?” you admitted, because really, you hadn’t thought about it, but now that you were, you really didn’t know what you were in for today. It was only slightly concerning.

Steve’s phone pinged and he fished in the pocket of his shorts for it, pulling it out and seeing a text from Tony.

Tony: Make sure you hold her hand, big guy!

Following the text was a laughing emoji, an embarrassed emoji and then a few emojis that Steve wished he didn’t know the meaning of.

“Anyone important?” you asked, still looking down at the route and turning left at the end of a street. Steve was puzzled, but sure as hell wasn’t going to share the text with you and so he pocketed his phone and shrugged.

“Domino’s Pizza, two for one deal.”

“Ah damn! If only we were at home,” you joked, looking up at him with a teasing glint in your eye and he laughed, shaking his head. You definitely didn’t mean that and he damn well knew it.

Finally reaching the line of tour buses at the docks, you put your phone away in your bag and marvelled at the scenery. Looming in the not so far distance was an enormous cruise ship and there was a thick line of people streaming from it and into the tour bus area, being assigned to their various excursions. You and Steve were under strict instructions from Tony to mention his name and the codeword, wanderlust, to the security guard outside the area and he’d be sure to let you in.

I mean, if he didn’t, you were kind of stuck.

“Hello, sir,” Steve ventured, walking forwards towards the guard and you thanked your lucky stars that he was willing to do this, since you were terrified of being sent away and Tony not having worked his magic, “We’re here under the name Tony Stark?”

The man eyed him warily and you hurriedly took the last few steps so that you were shoulder to shoulder with Steve.

“Wanderlust!” you squeaked, and Steve looked at you in mild surprise, his lips pressed together to stop him from laughing at your timid tone. You scowled at him. But the guard nodded, far too seriously, and stood out of the way to let you in, pointing to a tour bus on the end of the row, number 66.

“66? You gotta be kiddin’ me,” Steve murmured to you and you chuckled and shushed him as you passed the guard with a half smile. As you walked to your tour bus, you glanced backwards and noticed that the man had a rifle slung over his back and your eyes widened of their own accord, and you shuffled closer to Steve subconsciously.

“Ah, you two must be the Stark party!” the woman beside the tour bus exclaimed cheerily in a heavy french accent that was almost dreamy. You both nodded cordially and she ticked off your names on her clipboard with a flourish, ushering you onto the bus, “Oh you are going to have a wonderful time, you’ll see, you’ll see!”

You both boarded the bus, and Steve looked back you with a raised eyebrow at the woman, but you just shook your head ever so slightly, as if to tell him not to question it. You found two seats free near the front and sat yourselves down, Steve by the window and you in the aisle, sending a few smiles in the direction of the various people around you.

“That woman scares me,” Steve whispered to you.

“You and me both,” you agreed, “But don’t worry, I won’t let the big bad woman hurt you.”

“You gonna protect me, doll?” he asked, smirking at you and you played along, placing a hand on his cheek and ignoring the effect that nickname had on you.

“Sugar, I wouldn’t let anyone hurt a hair on your pretty little head,” you assured him in your best southern accent, which just happened to be terrible. He placed his hand on top of your own.

“You make me feel so safe, Y/N.”

“Just doin’ my job,” you said, but suddenly your voice was deeper and more like a bodyguard’s, and Steve snorted, his hand slipping from yours and his forehead falling to your shoulder as you both laughed.

“Good morning cruisers!” a high pitched voice came through a microphone and ricocheted around the bus, “My name is Martina and I will be your guide for this incredible tour of the beautiful Prunelli Gorges! Let’s go, driver!”

Looking around, the seats were full and there were quite a few faces either amused or worried by the enthusiasm of the guide, Steve’s face definitely on the worried side. You tried to reassure him.

“It’s probably good to have an enthusiastic guide, Steve, at least she’ll get us all excited during the trip!”

He hummed, plainly unimpressed, in response as the coach roared to life and the driver expertly reversed out of the parking bay and onto the roads. Before long you were on what must have been a motorway here, even though it felt rather tiny. You pointed through the window towards the mountains that towered in the distance, ones that you seemed to be heading for.

“We better not be going there.”

“I don’t think we will be,” Steve laughed and you joined him. They were far too high up, after all, though you had heard of some mountain roads in Ajaccio. The thought made you shiver. No way.

“...and you’ll notice that tree on your left...oh, it’s gone. Well if you take the leaves from that and add the juice of the sap from that same trees you get a wonderful balm for skin irritation, bites and stings...”

Both you and Steve had long since blocked out the incessant voice of your guide, since apparently you’d been wrong and her enthusiasm did not enthuse the bus, instead alienating the majority of it. You tuned in just for that section about the tree though, and quickly tuned out again, even more confused by her than ever. Another half an hour later and you left the motorway, turning onto a winding road that seemed surprisingly steep.

Above you was the mountain that had been so far away. Now close. Very close.

“Steve?”

“Hm?”

“Are we going up this mountain?” you asked timidly, looking out of the window and noticing just how slanted the ground below the bus was. The roads were winding, the greenery slowly thinning out around you with every turn you took. When a car came towards you, both parties had to slow down and get the passing just right. You were beginning to feel sick.

Steve hadn’t answered you either, which didn’t make you feel any better.

Another turn later and the greenery had thinned out so much that you were able to see through it, only for a fleeting second, but you saw an expanse of trees that were considerably below you. And you were still climbing higher.

“Holy crap,” you murmured to yourself, looking ahead at the seat in front of you, feeling your heart rate pick up.

Then it hit you.

Prunelli Gorges. Gorges. You were going around the top of the gorges. Which would be below you. Far below you.

Suddenly, Pepper’s sharp words to Tony when he booked it made sense.

It was only minutes before you rounded another corner and then there were no more winding roads through the trees, feeling safe on either side. The trees fell away and there was rock on one side of the bus and a sheer cliff-face on the other. You glanced down and felt your head spin. 2500ft was your best guess for the height of the drop. Right next to you.

You heard Steve curse, and the bus slowed considerably as it took the corner and you were on the mountain road. There were murmurs throughout the bus as everyone saw what they were facing next and you saw one woman cross herself nearby, making you feel a million times worse. It felt like your stomach had already dropped the 2500ft. You cast your gaze down to the floor urgently.

“Now, don’t worry about this bit of the journey, everyone, this is the fun bit! And Luca has driven this stretch of road more times than he can count, right Luca?”

“Actually this is my first time,” he deadpanned and you snapped your head up to look at him. Martina was laughing at him as if he’d just said something funny. As far as you were concerned he was the least funny person you’d ever met in your life.

There was a turn coming up, one in which you couldn’t see where you were going anymore and it just looked like you were going to disappear into the mountain.

“You okay?” Steve asked you, peering at your face and you noticed he was an unearthly shade of white. It was likely he was looking at you to avoid looking over the side of the cliff above anything else.

“No,” you hissed, “How could Tony do this to us?”

And suddenly, Tony’s earlier text made sense. Asshole.

Steve didn’t answer and you came to the turn. You tensed every muscle in your body as you felt the vehicle shift and heard a screech from the back of the bus a few seconds later. Both you and Steve whipped round to check everything was okay and saw a woman breathing heavily with a hand on her chest.

“Our side was hanging over the edge!” she exclaimed to the man next to her, seemingly her son, who rubbed her back comfortingly. You let out a shaky breath.

“You can’t be nervous, Y/N,” Steve said and you could hear the tremble in his voice along with the attempt to lighten the mood, “You said you’d protect me, remember?”

“Only if you’ll protect me too, cowboy,” you said breathlessly and you could feel your heart pounding through your chest, closing your eyes with a wince when you felt the bus turning again. These winding mountain roads were so much worse than the previous winding roads. You wished you’d never complained about those.

“Always,” Steve said, somewhat sincerely.

The bus lurched as a wheel clipped the tiny kerb on the cliffside. Both of you jumped out of your skin and instantly you were gripping each other’s hands for dear life. You looked down at your joined hands once you were sure that the bus wasn’t falling to its doom, slightly embarrassed, but Steve squeezed your hand and gave you a tiny smile and you didn’t feel quite so embarrassed then.

Your hands stayed linked.

---

You stepped off the bus on shaky legs and Steve quickly offered you his arm to hold on to until you regained your balance, though your hand gripping his arm like a vice was grounding him somewhat also. That had been the worst hour of your life. A stark contrast to the joys of Gibraltar. You were extremely surprised neither of you had thrown up. Yet.

“I swear,” you said, swallowing thickly, “If we’re going back that way, I’m not getting back on that bus. I’ll get a taxi, I swear to everything I hold dear.”

“We won’t be going back that way, I’m sure of it,” Steve assured you, but he sounded hoarse and had to cough to regain his composure.

“You can be damn well sure of it, I won’t do it Steve!”

You’d held hands for basically the whole hour. They became incredibly clammy but neither of you really cared. Occasionally you grasp onto his forearm for some extra support and once or twice Steve made the mistake of looking to his left and seeing the drop right there and had to bury his face in your shoulder. Your other hand would come up and hold onto the back of his head at those moments and he’d take a second or two to calm before he was able to sit up again. Both of you used each other as comfort and comforted each other as best as you could. Ensuring the other was okay was the only thing that really prevented either of you from crying.

It sounded dramatic but it was terrifying. Every corner felt like a deathtrap and there was a collective gasp everytime a car came towards the bus.

Now you’d stopped at the highest of heights, where one of Martina’s friends had a caravan out of which she sold Corsican meats and cheeses. It was a strange place to stop but no one was going to argue with an idea that got them off the damn bus.

“Hey guys! Enjoying the tour?” Martina was suddenly in your line of vision and you jumped, still entirely on edge. Steve was quick to be there for you, a warm hand placed on the small of your back soothing you within seconds. You relaxed under his touch. Steve answered her for you but you didn’t hear what he was saying. Instead you focused on the way the skin of your back prickled into goosebumps despite there being cotton between your back and his hand and the way your heart had picked up again for a different reason altogether.

“Well, I have some lavender oil here, very good for calming the mind. I can put some on your wrists?”

You had the vague thought that she might be poisoning you but pushed it away and offered your wrists quickly, hoping that the oil might actually have the calming effect that she claimed. Steve did the same and the loss of his hand on your back almost made you think it wasn’t worth the oil. Almost.

Once Martina had left you alone to pester others to take some of her oil, you gestured to a table to Steve and he nodded, the two of you walking over and sitting down with loud sighs escaping you both. You took a moment to actually look around. You hadn’t been able to appreciate the scenery until now.

One view had you standing up from your chair before you’d even properly sat down in it. You walked over towards the edge of the lay-by, which, just for this rest stop had a higher wall. And down below you was the most beautiful landscape you’d ever seen in person. There were gorgeous green mountains, all sloping down into the clearest blue lake you could imagine, which curved around the land that surrounded it. It was like something out of a movie.

Steve had joined you, slightly panicked when you’d begun walking towards the edge with no explanation but understood completely by the time he was stood side by side with you. He looked out across the gorge and felt tears pricking the back of his eyes. He blinked them back.

He reached for your hand and this time, rather than just holding it, he slipped his fingers through yours and intertwined them. You looked up at him, almost as if in awe, but he kept his eyes trained on the view. You looked forwards again, heart rate slowing as you calmed, his touch seemingly having some sort of magical effect on you. After a few seconds, spurred on by his act of bravery and of intimacy, you shuffled closer until you were touching and pulled his arm around your shoulders, keeping your fingers locked together as you rested your head on his chest.

It was practically midday and the sun overhead glittered on the water. But nothing glittered as much as the happiness in both of your eyes.

---

It was yet another hour to the next rest stop, but this one was the journey down the mountain, slowly, which somehow was easier than the journey up. There were still a few hand holding moments but this time there was also some soft chatter between you as you eased and moments towards the end of the hour where you were actually able to look where you were going which seemed to be a little tiny village in the side of the mountain. You were nearly back at a normal level by now, but the village still appeared high up compared to everything else.

When you stopped this time, your legs weren’t shaky, which was an improvement and there was an actual shop that sold ice cream, which was a bonus. The meats and cheeses from before hadn’t really done it for you. You waited in the queue and got two whippy ice creams, wandering outside into the courtyard seating to eat them.

“I’m going to kill Tony,” you said through a mouthful of ice cream and Steve nodded, swallowing his own.

“I’ll help,” he agreed, “As long as we make it as painful as possible.”

You gasped excitedly.

“We can bring him up here and push him off one of the cliffs!”

Steve pointed his ice cream at you knowingly.

“Bingo!” he exclaimed, swiping your nose and leaving a little dot of ice cream there, before returning it to his mouth as if nothing had happened. You giggled, reaching over to swipe his own face but protesting when he moved his face out of the way.

“Hold...still…” you said, sticking your tongue out to concentrate as you leaned right over the table and tried to get his face, even though he was leaning away as far as he could and frantically turning his face from side to side every time you got close. Eventually, you took hold of his face with one hand and booped his nose with the whippy, grinning triumphantly at the mark left which dripped down onto his chin.

If anyone had looked over, it would definitely have seemed you were about to kiss him.

There was one fated moment where Steve thought you were going to as well.

And another fated moment where you thought you were going to.

So...

You did.

It was a fleeting kiss, but you were already cupping his face and you just leaned in and pressed your lips to his, quickly, sweetly, closing your eyes and savouring the sparks. When you pulled away and looked at him, flitting from his eyes to his lips and back again, you licked your lips.

He stood up and you were forced to pull away properly, falling back into your seat at the other side of the table with a thump. You watched him as he snatched the ice cream from your hand and walked away from you and your heart dropped.

His back was hunched as he walked away and you brought your hand up to your mouth as you processed exactly what you’d just done. You’d just ruined your friendship with Steve. You’d just ruined your friendship with Steve. You’d just ruined your friendship with Steve.

But then you watched through glassy eyes as he threw the ice creams in the bin and turned back to you, his gaze hard and unfaltering, his eyes utterly locked on you. You froze. Didn’t know whether to run or hide or beg him to forget what you’d just done, to rewind the clock, to go back in time.

He stalked over to you with a purpose you were almost sure you’d never seen from him and you stood up, opening your mouth to tell him how sorry you were when his arm was suddenly locked around your waist, tugging you against his chest, his other arm on the side of your neck as he tilted your face up to his and met you in a searing kiss.

Your back arched and he encouraged it, arm tightening around you as his lips moved against yours. You were still in shock, and all you could do was cling to his upper arms desperately as you kissed him back. He tasted like ice cream and home. That wasn’t a taste. It was likely you were delirious at this point.

He pulled away and you fisted your hand in his shirt collar as some sort of reflex to keep him close, to ensure he couldn’t get away.

“Wow,” he breathed after a few seconds of heavy breathing and you chuckled, nudging your nose against his playfully.

“Wow.”

“I didn’t mean to do that,” Steve whispered. His words hit you full force. A cold bucket of water poured over you, when you were previously warm and basking in a glow you’d never known. Your hands let go of him and you were a respectable distance away from him within an instant.

“You didn’t mean to do that?” you asked quietly, willing your legs to stop trembling right this second.

“No! No, that wasn’t what I was trying to say, I mean-”

“Because I think it was just the setting.”

You said the words without thinking. They just came out, even though you didn’t mean them at all. But your heart was shouting that danger was nearby and you were terrified of what he’d just said and the fear on his face. He didn’t want this. How could you ever kid yourself that he would want this?

Your words hit him like a van at full speed and knocked him clear off his feet. You didn’t want this. How could he ever kid himself that you would want this?

“The setting?” his voice was shaking because you were saying everything he’d dreaded you would say after a moment like this. You heard the shake and believed it to be fear of what might happen next, fear of you taking this the wrong way. Your own insecurities were both of your worst enemies. Always had been.

“Yeah. The setting. It’s so pretty. Easy to get caught up in the moment, make silly mistakes,” you said quickly, and now you couldn’t even look at him which naturally he took to be regret, “Right?”

You waited with bated breath. Wanted him to scream that you weren’t right, that you were wrong. That he wanted you. That he loved you. So that you could tell him you loved him and pull him right back to where you were just mere seconds ago, kissing with the passion of two star-crossed lovers.

“Right.”

But he didn’t.

Martina called everyone back onto the bus for the last leg of the tour, the last hour that took you all the way back to the bus bay where you’d started the day. Tension was thick in the bus. Somehow, even the terrifying cliffs were better than the icy silence that blanketed you and Steve, suffocated you slowly the entire way back. You sat rigid in your seats and when Steve’s knee knocked against yours at one point both of you pulled away as if you’d been scorched by the touch.

You walked back to your hotel in near silence, the only talking when you said “it’s a right here” or “straight on again”.

You went into the bathroom to change into your pyjamas. When you came out and Steve took your place, there were no smiles exchanged, instead eyes averted to the ground, shoulders careful not to brush each other.

Lying in bed that night, the twin beds had never seemed so far away. You both lay rigid on your backs, as if any movement might disturb the other and send them away. You were scared to breathe.

“Goodnight,” Steve whispered to you in the dark and the simple word was all it took. You turned on your side away from him and covered your mouth to hide the sobs, face crumpled up in pure sorrow.

“Night, Steve,” you managed to choke out as his tears made steady, silent tracks down his cheeks.

And so you lay, two almost-lovers in separate beds, mourning something you’d never even had to begin with.

Utterly heartbroken.

#attie's challenge challenge #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers #captain america x reader #captain america #steve rogers imagine #steve rogers series #steve rogers angst #captain america imagine #captain america series #captain america angst #marvel #marvel x reader #marvel fanfiction #marvel imagine #marvel series #wanderlust

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marcirose · 5 years

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My thoughts on Code Lyoko Evolution

Okay I know this post is about 3-4 years late, but now that I’m getting back into Code Lyoko again, I decided to give my full thoughts on the noncanon season 5 titled “Evolution”

(Yes, I refuse to acknowledge it as canon. In my eyes, Code Lyoko ended at season 4. Evolution is a shitty fanfiction)

Now the biggest thing that really put me off was the fact that it was live-action. That’s always been the most critiqued thing regarding a show transitioning from animation to live action, and I will acknowledge that they gave us some good shots, but overall, I wish they stuck to animation because it looks like they were limited on what they could do (I mainly saw this with XANA’s attacks but I’ll get to that later) compared to what they could do if it was animated: character expressions, movement, lighting, a whole bunch of stuff could make a huge difference. It’s like Moonscoop said “Oh we can’t do this, so we’ll do this” without really thinking of what they could do.

Okay it’s obvious that the best scenes are when the gang is on Lyoko, which honestly kinda proves my point further. The characters are more expressive, more lively, and the action scenes are actually rather nice to watch.

The more I watched Evolution, the more I realized that the switch from animation to live action was the least of my worries.

A whole lot of stuff regarding the story didn’t seem to make sense to me. Scratch that: everything regarding XANA didn’t make sense to me. The way he was brought back was basically Moonscoop saying that they can’t really move on from XANA to another villain to keep the show interesting. I kinda get it: the show started with XANA, and by that note, it should continue with XANA. But, if you killed off your main antagonist at the end of the series, but later you want to continue the series, give it a new antagonist.

Literally XANA’s return is summed up as “XANA didn’t really die. He escaped into another supercomputer so now the Lyoko Warriors have to go into that supercomputer to defeat him.”

I’m sorry, but did that mean Franz Hopper died for nothing?

I’m sorry, that’s just really lazy.

Speaking of XANA, what happened to him? He used to be the biggest threat in the show: controlling a satellite, creating killer robots and killer music, ripping the school in half, killing Yumi on multiple occasions, taking control of William for an entire season, destroying Lyoko, rearranging the route of two trains carrying nuclear bullshit so they’ll crash into each other, controlling a bus with Ulrich inside it to crash into a nuclear power plant, sending his monsters to the real world, REVERSING GRAVITY TO SEND EVERYONE INTO SPACE.

Do I need to go on?

Instead, he’s sending spectre after spectre after spectre. Yeah, they can do something, but in Evolution, they just walk around menacingly and that’s it. They don’t shoot lightning out of their hands, they don’t try to stop the warriors from escaping, they don’t try to throw anything at the warriors to immobilize them. They literally follow them until they’re cornered before deciding to attack, and that takes the ENTIRE SECOND ACT OF AN EPISODE. It might be because of XANA being weak, but even in a weakened state, XANA could cause some major havoc.

Now that we’re talking about villains, let’s talk about the secondary villain in Evolution named Lowell Tyron (I literally had to look up his first name). Compared to XANA, he’s a weak villain. He doesn’t affect the plot in any sort of way (save for the bullshit with Aelita’s mom) until the very last episode where he destroys the Cortex and tries to recruit Laura (I’ll get to her soon enough), and he mainly just sits back and lets the Ninjas (the basic equivalent to XANA’s monsters) do everything for him. I kept forgetting he was in the show until someone mentioned him. If you have a villain who doesn’t affect the plot in any way, shape, or form, then you have a bad villain no matter how good the personality is.

(He also has the typical personality of “evil scientist guy” and it’s just weak. Same with his motives. This was in 2012. You cannot have a live-action villain so cartoony unless it was intended).

I’ll admit, the Cortex is really cool, and the MegaPod is a cool vehicle.

Most of the stuff is just never explained in the show. For example, the Lyoko Warriors (Except for Jeremie and William), are embedded with codes that helped XANA come back. Where did the codes come from? I don’t know. How did they get these codes? Good question. Are they important? HELL NO! Take out the code bullshit, and literally nothing changes. “The codes are used to strengthen XANA when he gets a hold of them.” The Return to the Past strengthens XANA too. I don’t see the point in why this exists.

You have a new villain, you have a new character, you have a new area to explore, you have plot points that the original left unfinished. Why do you need this?

They also explain that the Ice and Forest sectors practically deleted themselves because of the Supercomputer being shut down for a year. I’m sorry, the Supercomputer had been shut down for A DECADE before Jeremie found it, and all of the sectors were in one piece. Plus, those were the prettiest sectors. How dare you?

The characters have gotten a huge downgrade as well. I’d have to say my favorite out of the bunch was William, and that’s saying a lot since I never liked William in the original show, although I think it’s cause I mainly feel bad for him for all of the shit he had to go through. Odd was always my favorite Lyoko Warrior, but I had to ask “Moonscoop, what did you do to my son?”

Ulrich and Yumi had it the worst of all. It’s like they took 2 steps forward and 100 steps back regarding their characters and their relationship. Most of the time, Yumi just spends her time just glaring at Ulrich, and their main interaction was the two of them fighting that’s the central plot of an episode. This is exactly why I never shipped these two. They always got into fights over nothing, and instead of talking about a misunderstanding, they just spite each other more.

Now we’re getting to the newest bitch on the block, the bitch that everyone hates more than Sissi (her character just made me appreciate Sissi): Laura Gauthier. I never liked Laura. I’ll say that right now. When Odd first called her “Mrs. Einstein,” I believe I can say for the entire fandom that we said “Odd Della Robbia, you better take that shit back.”

Swear to God, Laura pissed me off more than Sissi and William combined. I could not stand her whenever she was onscreen, and she gave off the vibes of being a Mary Sue. How the fuck could she fix the Supercomputer, a device she has NEVER SEEN BEFORE, and create a program that makes her immune to the Return to the Past WITH JEREMIE LOOKING OVER HER SHOULDER!? She practically forced herself into the group, and was a huge red flag, and that’s not even involving her just being a fucking bitch, especially to Aelita. That comment about Anthea just made me want to slap her. I just wanted her written off of the show. I didn’t care how, just get rid of her.

Laura also gets a pass for doing shit the other warriors got kicked out of the group for doing. Her father wanted to take her out of Kadic (Good riddance), and she automatically shows him the Supercomputer in an attempt to let her stay. I don’t give a shit what her reasoning is; that is the biggest fucking rule of being a Lyoko Warrior. AND SHE GETS A PASS FOR IT! ASIDE FROM AELITA, EVERYONE INCLUDING JEREMIE VOTED TO KEEP HER IN THE GROUP! YEAH, SHE WAS IMMUNE TO THE RETURN TO THE PAST, BUT AS SHOWN IN “MUTINY” THEY REVERSED THAT SO WHAT’S THE PROBLEM!? SCREW TYRON BEING THE SECONDARY VILLAIN! THAT TITLE BELONGS TO LAURA!

I’m not even involving shipping bullshit. Take that into account with my criticism.

The show didn’t even end well. It ends on a shitty cliffhanger. Jeremie creates another virus to put in Tyron’s computer so it could destroy XANA, but Tyron shuts down the computer before the virus could finished downloading. The show ends with Jeremie basically saying that the virus will take effect when Tyron turns on his supercomputer again.

JEREMIE BELPOIS WHAT THE FUCK DOES THAT SOLVE!?

They’re basically playing a waiting game, and I’m just wondering why they would think Tyron would turn his Supercomputer back on with the knowledge that they go inside it? If I was him, I’d keep it closed for good. Besides, XANA can’t do shit because the Supercomputer is off. Even without the virus, you guys still won so what’s the issue here?

Code Lyoko Evolution is a fucking fanfiction and I refuse to acknowledge it as canon. The original series ended perfectly, and the plot points it left hanging could be interpreted among fans. Some people like it, and I’ll admit they took some creative liberties with it and experimented with live action, but the story just falls flat, the characters have gotten worse than their original counterparts, the new characters are bad, and the only good thing I can say about the show is the CGI has immensely improved. Hell that’s the only good thing people can say about Evolution.

Honestly, just watch Evolution for the CGI scenes, but aside from that, you can ignore it completely. It’s not worth your time. I’d prefer Evolution not exist, but if it has to, I’ll make a post about how I would rewrite it. Take this post with a grain of salt if you actually like Evolution. Just know that I don’t, and I wish it didn’t exist.

#code lyoko #code lyoko evolution #review #also a rant #cause I won't not talk about this piece of shit #was there a demand for more code lyoko?#idk #i know i was perfectly fine with what we got

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