#TOTAL guilt trip. everything she says that’s like in my favor is a guilt trip. she will never ever ever see my side and i just have to be | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

vagrantblvrd · 3 years

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anakin doesn't fall to the dark side - meet the parents dinluke?

Yesssss.

Because all the AUs where Skywalker family drama is due to Anakin causing a diplomatic incident at a Fancy Dinner when he accidentally mortally offends someone who asks his opinion about sand, and not you know, the whole Darth Vader thing.

Also, the Jedi Order looking long and hard about that stance on attachment and other things because wow, okay, wow.

(But also, I must Drama a teensy bit, because yes.)

Obi-Wan enjoying the grandparent benefit of getting the joy of having Luke and Leia? But also watching Anakin deal with these little terrors of his and feels it’s payback for what he went through with just one of Anakin.

Leia who may have followed Padme into politics but everyone knows she takes after Anakin in temperament. Luke’s the one to follow Anakin in becoming a Jedi, but he’s more like his mother in temperament.

Ahsoka adores the twins, and is in fact one of their favorite partners in crime, and Anakin is like, pls, pls, stop turning my children against me,pls.

Also? Padme is kind of the worst because she’s taught them everything she knows about political maneuvering and the whatnot.

Anakin is convinced they’ll have the entire galaxy on its knees before them one day soon.

Anyway.

Luke who goes gallivanting about for reasons and after one gallivanting about trip he comes back all :DDDDDDDDDDDDD and *___________________________* and Anakin has no idea what happened other than Luke’s X-wing being shot down and him being stranded on some backwater planet somewhere for ages before the search party found him?

But when they found him he was just. Like That, and also holding this little metal ball in his hand, rolling it back and forth like it was a calming thing, little smile on his face.

Also, he went to Coruscant to speak to Yoda and only the two of them know what was said? But Yoda’s been even more insufferable than usual, livelier? Something.

(It’s a Thing known among Jedi that Master Yoda was changed when a youngling went missing years ago, kidnapped or something. Some say Yoda feels it was his fault, that the guilt still weighs heavy on him, but it’s hearsay and rumor.)

Anyway.

A few months after Luke’s rescue from that backwater planet Luke goes and gets in trouble. (He doesn’t know if the fact Leia is with him makes the whole thing better or worse? Between the two of them there’s hardly need for a rescue at all, but also the thing where they might finally take over the galaxy if left to their own devices so.)

Rescuing his kid(s).

Again.

Obi-Wan is suitably worried, but also amused as hell and really, Obi-Wan, Anakin was never that bad. Was he? Obi-Wan? Are you choking? You don’t sound well.)

Anakin and the others headed off to rescue Luke, and it turns into them going from place to place, chasing rumors and gossip and one one of these planets they run into this Mandalorian.

Flys an old gunship that looks like it’s on its last legs and wears beskar and also -

“Oh my,” Obi-Wan says, when they see the kid riding along in a bag the Mandalorian carries.

Anakin thinks it’s just the thing where the kid is clearly one of Yoda’s species, but Obi-Wan’s reaction is a little too much for somthing so simple, obvious.

Anyway, the Mandalorian tells them he can help them find Luke and Leia, and at first Anakin isn’t that thrilled about adding him to the rescue party?

But then the kid pulls out this little...trinket, charm, something Anakin and Padme gifted Luke as a child that he carries - carried - around as a good luck token, or at least that’s what he always says. (Ducks his head, sheepish little smile and Anakin and Padme like, aw, our kid is a dork like us,)

Point is, Anakins recognizes it, and the comes in like, my dude, connect the fucking dots, you’re killing me.

Which is how Anakin meets Luke’s ~sekrit boyfriend and his kid.

(Only not so much ~sekrit as Luke had plans to introduce Din to his parents and such, but the whole surprise!Dangerous Adventure thing happened first.)

Anakin being like >:( because protective parent and all?

But as they search for clues as to Luke and Leia’s whereabouts he gets to see just how concerned for Luke Din is, and how much he loves his tiny green gremlin kid, and Din’s overall skill and competence? Also, though, also. He’s smart, not just a blunt weapon, and he’s like oh, no, because he knows his son? But it’s not a bad feeling when he thinks it, just.

A little sad, wistful, what with Luke not being a kid anymore - he’s known that for a while now, but this cements the reality and all.

It’s not the surprise he thought it was when Anakin realizes he likes Din as a person, although it’s not like he’s going to say it, you know?

(I mean, he does because he’s not a complete bastard, but that’s not the point.)

They catch a break, catch up to Luke and Leia and Anakin discovers he really, really likes the way Din just absolutely destroys any baddies stupid enough to get between him and Luke, matches Anakin’s protectiveness and he’s like -

“Hey, once this is over we’re going to talk.” Smiles with perhaps too many teeth showing at Din’s confusion. “About you and my kid.

He can’t see Din’s reaction to that, because armor? But he feels this flare of !!! through the Force before it gets shoved aside in favor or getting to Luke, panic later?

And then!

Dramatic rescues and Anakin and Din decimating the baddies by themselves - Obi-Wan’s dealing with things like anti-air batteries and shield generators. Ahsoka’s making sure no one sneaks up behind Anakin and Din, but she honestly doesn’t have much to do in that regard.

And then!

Anakin is like, aw, man, I’m right here, when there’s the moment Luke and Din are ~reunited and Din is like, gos so, so still and Luke’s the one to press his forehead against Din’s because hey, hey, hes fine, he’s right here, and also hi, i missed you with them being separated even before Luke and Leia’s latest Adventure.

Still, Anakin lets them have their moment and goes to check on Leia, who gives them a look like took your time, didn’t you? But there’s relief in her eyes and she doesn’t say anything as he wraps her in a hug, calls her the nickname he gave her when she was kid and she laughs because it’s a dumb nickname dad, but it’s kind of their joke, and anyway, she had everything in hand, didn’t she? He’s just here for the cleanup.

And then! Some more!

It turns out Luke and Leia got wrapped up in some conspiracy nonsense, Palpatine’s followers who have been hiding in the shadows all this time and opportunity for revenge against the ~great Anakin SKywaler by targeting his kids.

Only the baddies miscalculated because they went after his and Padme’s kids, and everyone knows they’re complete terrors, you know? The worst.

After everything’s dealt with and they head home, Anakin is almost as amused as Leia and Obi-Wan at the way Din is all but glued to Luke’s side, that tiny green gremlin kid of his just as bad.

Anakin’s heart grows three sizes when he watches the Very Solemn exchange of the little metal ball Luke brought back with him that one time and the trinket/chram/good luck token Grogu’s been holding on to.

Valuable treasures trusted on one another’s safekeeping until they saw one another again, and Din is like. Freaking hearteyes over the two of them, because his family, and Anakin just sighs

Obi-Wan totally not laughing at him now that Anakin has no right to play the overprotetcive, disapproving father card on Din after everything he’s seen of the man and how he feels about Luke.

“Disappointed?” Obi-Wan asks, and he’s smirking as he does.

Anakin doesn’t bother with an answer because Obi-Wan knows the answer.

Something along the lines of no, and you know better, Obi-Wan, with a oh, Padme’s going to love him,because of course she is. He makes her son very, very happy, after all.

(Best, best thing, however, is Padme meeting Din, when they arrive home. Din nervous and worried because Luke’s told him about his mother, how terrifying she can be, a force of nature, and clear he adores her.

And Padme looking between Din and his son holding Grogu with this radiant smile. So in love, and easy enough to see his love returned, and everything she could have asked for for her son.)

#star wars nonsense #dinluke #anon #not!fic prompts #prompt fills #technically not a fic #vagrant fic #long post #Anonymous

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etirabys · 4 years

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The solution to “the lesbians I read about aren’t horrible enough” is, of course, to roll your own. Here’s what I’ve been dreaming up recently (warning: this story idea was simply formed by throwing together every lesbian fiction nutrient I currently feel deprived of, I have not designed it to be ��good’ at all):

Frances Hareva is a military strategist for the ruling planet of an interplanetary civilization, Mars Delta. Actually, she’s not the military strategist – Zlanna is. Zlanna is the AI who takes input from a massive interplanetary surveillance network and provides most of the brainpower for the job. But the values and core decisionmaking is provided by a human hooked up to Zlanna, who is constantly trained for alignment with the collective will of her planet. Some three years into this extremely demanding job that's damaging her brain in certain ways, Frances orders a hit on a ruling family of a rebellious colony planet, Ftam Quedir. She leaves alive the adoptive daughter, Safi.

Safi is a product of heavy genetic engineering, and Frances predicts she will become an influential moderate representative of pro-gene-engineering, an ethical and material issue that's promising to be divisive enough to lead to interplanetary war. Frances has had very little meaningful human contact for several years, and while doing a job that involves spying on millions of people, some of the people she watches have drifted into the friend-shaped hole. Something that is not quite apparent to her superiors, or to Frances herself until she recommends/orders the assassination, is that she’s become very fond of Safi while surveilling the Quediram clan, and has clouded judgment about her.

Soon after making that call, Frances has a nervous breakdown that impedes her relationship with the AI, and is quietly shipped off to a university to spend all her efforts getting an art degree under a false name, which her superiors figure is a humane way of getting rid of her in a way that doesn't embarrass them.

Safi had an ambiguous relationship with her family, who took her in and gave her a very good life, but also were terrible in some ways. Several months into growing into an interplanetary activist of the exact type that Frances expected her to be, Safi realizes that someone meant to set her on this life path by killing her family, rage quits, and disappears from the public eye. She spends time tracking down everyone involved in the hit so she can ruin their lives. She's 18 and a hothead, more than Frances knew.

Frances is on the top of the hit list, so Safi enrolls in the university she's hiding out at as an undergrad (thereby, yes, making this a college fic – look, I've always wanted to write one), also in disguise. She manages to make contact with Frances by enrolling in a class with her. Frances obviously recognizes her but has no idea what Safi is doing here; Safi's first layer of disguise to almost everyone is "normal vaguely foreign student", her second layer of disguise to Frances specifically is "Safi, but she wants a normal life for a while and an education on the ruling planet, and has no idea who Frances is".

There's some dancing around for a while where Safi befriends Frances, maybe roping her into some intensive and actually interesting school project. Safi spends these months trying to ruin Frances's life in RELATIVELY MUNDANE, PETTY WAYS like guilt-tripping her, getting her apartment burgled, and outing her in a planetary culture where being a lesbian is mildly to moderately stigmatized because it's strongly associated with the semi-fringe monarchist movement, all while observing her to design a coup de grace optimized to make Frances as miserable as possible. Meanwhile, in normal life, they are forming a surprisingly strong connection. (They may make out a bit at this point, Safi arranging it so that Frances immediately turns her down but gets flustered and guilty about it, because Safi is playing a sexually inexperienced undergrad who'll be crushed if the first gay contact she tries to make goes badly.)

Safi quickly figures out that, after all that work tracking down her nemesis, Frances is a total wreck of a person who isn't at all satisfying to ruin because she’s already a huge mess. Lots of rage sloshing around with nowhere to go. Also by this point they definitely want to bang each other and are horrified by it. There's a big confrontation where they shed their secret identities, where Safi really lays it in and then leaves. Frances, in the aftermath, decides that her redemption lies in shaping up and being a satisfying enemy for Safi to take down, and so does everything she can to get herself together and become the perfect political rival...

("Eti, please stop, we get it, you kink on –")

With Frances taking the lead on the shape of their new relationship, Safi steps into the dance, into a Locke-and-Demosthenes dynamic where what they say in public is largely reflective of real personal differences in opinion, but also a deliberate partnership to optimize the debate between them itself to lead their civilization away from war. They do this without ever coordinating personally on their goals.

(They say things like "That said, Miss Frances, I cannot wait to take your argument apart. You have published a 35 page supplementary tract on your views since then and I have read it with interest. ... Attached is my 44-point list of objections, follow up questions, and what I believe to be convincing takedowns to the general Mars Deltan audience with an open mind.")

// At this point I lose conviction in what happens next – I’ve filled something out but it’s not inspired, the stuff I really care about is [gestures above].

This is the case for the next several years or so. They are completely and stupidly obsessed with each other and spy on each other. Safi goes and has a defiantly prolific sex life, hoping that Frances will be upset about it. Frances, incidentally, is not, but she tries to return the favor by going on some dates (which Safi does get het up about) although she's too demi to actually sleep with anyone. Eventually, they start a secret line of correspondence – probably Safi starts it after Frances misses too many therapy appointments and says something snippy about it – that over time turns into what's undeniably love letters.

At some point, one of them has a real personal crisis and the other one just materializes at their doorstep. The one who's having a crisis ignores everyone else, grabs their visitor's hand, and pulls her into the bedroom. They don't leave for a couple of days.

More faffing about Whether We Can Do This, which is rendered moot by the fact that they find it impossible to stay away from each other. Agony. Frances comes up with a long, multi-year plan for arranging their public lives to intersect in a way that naturally culminates in their getting married. Safi shoots off five emails arguing about the pre-nup and quibbling about the strategy, before belatedly realizing that Frances just proposed marriage and Safi... wanted it so obviously much that she never even considered contesting the premise of the plan.

There are some hiccups but they execute this fine and get married. Oh shit oh shit oh shit what now. Frances might be sufficiently neuroatypical that, Derek Parfit style, she can't handle actually living with her spouse and they largely conduct their relationship over the phone and meet once a week to talk irl, cuddle, and fuck.

#rambl #infinite monkey

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dragonswithjetpacks · 3 years

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Well, folks, I had intended to put another bit up. Since Ao3 is down, I’ll go ahead and post it here. Just some more Astarion x Ferelith banter. I’ll edit it tomorrow with the links to Ao3. Also, I have not played the game. So I’m not sure how the telepathy works.

A Prying Shame

-dragonswithjetpacks

Summary: Curiosity was in his nature. And when Ferelith turns him down for a glance into her past, it only grows inside him. Especially after he had already opened up to her. Though, will his prying take him too far? And would she accept an apology?

Trigger Warning: Mentions of abuse.

Read here on Ao3.

Once and only once he had the thought of peering into her memories without her knowing. And that was only after she had declined allowing him to enter in first place. Ferelith's head was a hard safe to crack. And no matter how many picks he had thrown to her lock, nothing opened. There were safeguards in place. Not to mention the fact her mind was a complete fortress on it's own. He knew the only way in was with a bit of help and when she was vulnerable.

There were some nights, particularly when the moon was full, that Ferelith would wander to commune with the fey. She needed total privacy to do so. He imagined once she was meditating, she wouldn't need to concentrate on anything but what was needed to manifest her thoughts. Therefore, she would not even feel him coming. When the time came, and the moon was high, he waited for her to disappear from camp. It was difficult to tell if she truly was gone since her footsteps were quiet and her demeanor was unnoticeable. Still, he was willing to take the risk as he followed where he could only assume she would be resting.

Finding her was not difficult. Ferelith had a very distinct smell, something of a sweet incense and dead wood. He followed that about a mile into the forest where he found a clearing. In the center seated upon a very large old stump, was the maiden warlock. Her legs were folded beneath her, her hands resting upon her knees. She appeared to be at peace, her eyes close and her mouth muttering whispers he could not understand. She was in a complete trance. And he saw the opportunity while her mind was open.

He reached out, his fingers tangling into what felt like an ice cold stream flowing through the air. It thickened to string and intertwined into his fingertips. He could feel himself pulling on them when he flexed. But Ferelith did not stir. He pulled them closer, bringing them to his temple where he stared at her intently.

There was a girl running in a white dress, her steps muffled by the sound of moss beneath her feet. The wood was naked with no green, their branches reaching up toward a black sky. Her head turned over her shoulder and he saw the streaks of tears through a dirt stained face. Her eyes, usually so bold and yellow were filled with a fear he did not recognize. In their reflection he could make out the small balls of flame from the torches behind her. She picked up the front of her dress, already torn to one side, hoping she could move faster. One leg leapt in front of the other as if they were familiar with the giant roots tangled into the ground below.

Astarion did the best he could to follow, but the memory was dark. She was familiar with the wood. And her mind was much stronger. He waited until the mob passed by, following at their pace to seek the maiden in white. That was not what they called her, however. Among them the common word for what they were hunting... was hag. Astarion curled his lip. What an insulting word for such a beautiful creature. An arrow let fly. And he heard it whistle into the treeline before hitting it's mark. A horrifying scream sounded ahead. They quickened their speed and he was appalled to be there with them listening to their cries of joy.

When he made it to Ferelith... she was already being drug by her hair, an arrow sticking out from her chest. They poked her with the ends of their weapons, shouting at her to remove her disguise. She said nothing, her eyes looking up in both rage and terror. She kicked and clawed and bit and hissed, much a like a cornered animal of the wild. The dress was torn from her body as she cried out, their weapons coming down upon her to bruise her pale flesh. For the first time, he felt compelled to look away from her naked figure. There were bruises, whip lashes, cuts from daggers, burn marks, and many scars. This was not the first time she had been tormented. They began to tie her feet when a loud sound boomed from what felt like the center of the forest. The mob stopped, raising the attention to one side of the wood. Their grips tightened on the torches, desperate for a light to show what was approaching.

They received their light. But it was not from what they prayed for. A massive light shown through the trees as if the sun itself was barrelling through. It was faster than any animal they had seen, and many began to run from instinct. The fools who chose to stay were pummeled quickly to the ground. And the even more foolish who attacked it fell in the dirt crying in pain. At a closer glance, the bright light had taken shape. And as Ferelith rose up from the ground to leap onto it's back, it looked at him with white eyes. A stag with curled horns looked into him. He looked back up to Ferelith to see she, too, was looking directly at him. It was time to go. They had discovered the intruder...

The memory snapped back and it was too late to move. Stepping backward to avoid her wrath, he tripped over a bush directly behind him. Ferelith was atop him, her hand reaching out and snatching his face. She pulled him up, her palm cupping his chin and her long black nails digging into his cheeks. He could see the markings on her fingers just outside his view. But more noticeable was her face. It was always the eyes with her. The glowing yellow eyes.

"How dare you," she said in a low tone that hardly sounded angry at all. "You trespass into my thoughts during the night of the moon? You defile my sacred place as I try to rest? And you read my memories while I commune with someone else?"

"I... I ..." he didn't know what to say.

His words tripped over his tongue as child would its first steps.

"Are an insult to this forsaken group," she threw him down.

He felt the force, but he was much stronger so the most he gave was small nudge to the ground. As she turned her back to him, he sprung to his feet stepping after her into the clearing.

"I only thought I'd get a glimpse of-"

"You were being meddlesome. Eavesdropping for the sake of your own curiosity. Nothing more."

"Damn it, Ferelith. If you would just-"

"You can't talk your way out of this Astarion," she turned to look upon him. The fury had subsided. It was now the hurt he was witnessing. The same eyes he saw looking at up at those men. Guilt was not an easy emotion for him. But realizing he had taken advantage of her, just as they did, was worse than any guilt he could ever think to feel.

"I saw your intentions... just as you saw mine..."

Just then, he saw a light ever so faint in the forest go cold as he caught sight of it. The stag from the dream... had been one of the fey. There was another flash of a memory as Ferelith looked into his eyes. The bleeding arrow, the horns of the stag, the look in her eyes... it was the night she made her pact. The memory was the connection the two shared, the sacred path that linked them. And he had desecrated it.

"I..." there was a long pause, his hands stretched out and his mouth open. "... am a fool."

"Flattery will get you no where, spawn. Leave me."

Spawn. It was what she called him the first time they met. It was meant as an insult, to demean him. She had been disgusted with his kind. Then, for some reason, she had changed her mind. Part of him believed it was his art of persuasion. Or perhaps he was succeeding at seducing the warlock. Now, he felt like he knew nothing of her. That he wiped away everything he kept of her. And he needed to start over. He watched her disappear deeper into the forest, the darkness swallowing her as she followed the light.

Ferelith glanced down into the basket, observing it only as garbage he had found somewhere during their travels.

"What is this?" she growled.

"An apology," he said, his tone serious but still lacking sincerity.

He knew Ferelith wasn't going to appear pleased. He knew very well she may not even be grateful for the effort he put forth in his attempt to regain her favor. But he also knew he was at the very least trying. And it was all he had to offer.

"There's red wine. A variation of flowers. And some... bones... of some thing I ki- I mean found."

Ferelith opened the lid to the basket and peered inside.

"None of these flowers can be used for spells or tea," she said flatly.

"That's not the point," Astarion looked at her in annoyance.

"Then what's the point?"

"They're pretty."

She blinked at him.

"I forget this is why I'm so fond of you," he sighed. "They were pretty flowers that reminded me... that reminded me of how beautiful you are."

"Out of all the useful flowers in this wood... these were the ones you chose?"

"Yes! Do you know the meaning of sentimental value?"

She looked down into the basket. The flowers' petals were dark purple that were even darker toward the center. The outer petals blossomed outward while the ones on the inside remained folded. Either he was very clever in his choice... or it was a coincidence.

"If you look into my thoughts again... it will be of your death."

She slammed the lid on the basket, snatching it from the ground before storming off. Again, he would never dream of following her if he had no reason to. But curiosity was his weak point. This time, however, he waited much longer to follow. What he found when he discovered her was well worth the risk. Ferelith was bathing in the river, her body half submerged on the bank. There was a wreathe of purple flowers in her hair, the wine bottle in one hand, and the skull of a dead animal in the other. It appeared... she was talking to it. And the bottle was half empty.

#astarion #astarion fic #astarion angst #astarion fluff #bg3 #baldur's gate #ferelith is ANGRY #ferelith #ferelith moonshade #more ferelith background #dwjp writing tag #ferelith writing tag

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starshine583 · 4 years

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Le Paon Part 5

(Part five is out! let me know what you guys think. hope you enjoy reading!)

Part 1 / Part 4 / Part 6

Why am I like this? All I had to do was say no. That’s all I had to do. Why am I so incapable of telling someone “no”? Marinette ranted to herself as she tried to hold her phone steady.

“Come on, Mari, hurry up! We’re gonna miss the action!” Allegra urged in front of her. She was much too energetic for a girl who was running straight towards a chemical based akuma unprotected.

Marinette panned the camera upwards. The akuma, dressed in greens, whites, and purples, had announced itself as Chimiste before lighting Paris on fire using different mixtures of chemicals. Chat Noir fought bravely overhead, causing Marinette to worry her lip with guilt. She should be up there helping, not needlessly endangering herself for a dare Claude accidentally made a week ago.

“This is Allegra Chanson live on the scene for the infamous akuma known as Chimiste.” She announced, turning so her phone could catch her and the fight at once. The two decided to use both of their phones together to get more footage.

“Chat Noir is fighting valiantly, but where is Ladybug or Le Paon?”

Marinette shifted from foot to foot at the question. She didn’t know about Le Paon, but Ladybug was certainly make some bad decisions right about now.

“You won’t stop me alone! Once I get your miraculous, the other scientists will take me seriously, and my work will be known worldwide!” Chimiste shouted, throwing a silver liquid across the top of the building they were fighting on.

Chat Noir pounced on the akuma, who merely rolled to the side. Before her partner could recover, Chimiste dropped a pink ball of goo onto the silver substance. This created a chain reaction, and the rest of the silver chemical spontaneously exploded.

“Allegra, move!” Marinette yelled as the building in front of them collapsed.

She barely managed to push Allegra forward when a chunk of drywall twice her size fell between them. Marinette stumbled back, tripped over her own two feet, and landing on the dark cement of the road. Blood pounded in her ears as adrenaline surged through her.

“Look out!”

Marinette’s gaze snapped upwards just in time to see another piece of the building falling right above her. Before it could crush her, though, something came flying through the air, effectively slicing the brick in half. She coughed up the dust that clouded the air when each half landed on either side of her.

“What are you doing here?” A voice asked frantically. Marinette barely had time to register the owner of the voice as Le Paon while he hid his fan in his sleeve.

His arms wrapped around her, and the next thing she knew, they were in the air. The familiar rush of wind combed through her hair, though it felt a bit stronger without the suit. The blur of the Paris streets passed below, and the jumps were shorter than they felt as Ladybug.

So this is what it’s like. She thought, absently wrapping her arms tighter around Le Paon's neck. As Ladybug, it was only natural to carry citizens across Paris to safety, but she hadn’t thought of what it must be like to be the one carried. It’s a wonderful feeling, actually. Being tucked against Le Paon’s chest, with his strong arms holding her close- she felt safe, secure. It was weirdly comforting, somehow.

..Wait.

This was Le Paon, public enemy number one and terrorist of Paris. There was nothing safe or secure about him! On top of that, Why was he even saving her? Chat Noir was alone right now. It would be the perfect time to strike! Why risk his chances of helping her if Ladybug wasn’t even there to see it? It gained him nothing.

Le Paon finally stopped a few blocks away, setting her down in a hidden alleyway.

“You’ll be safe here. Do me a favor and don’t run straight towards danger again.” He requested.

Marinette blinked, simply watching him leave as quickly as he came. The irony of the situation wasn't lost on her. Her moral enemy just saved her from the damage he was causing. Then told her to be safe. She might consider it sweet if it wasn't so confusing. The gesture conflicted with everything she assumed about Le Paon, and as she transformed for the battle, Marinette couldn't help asking the same question over and over:

Why?

Ladybug landed in an alleyway and detransformed, stretching her arms out in front of her with a sigh. She ended up saving Allegra, Alya, and Claude- all within a matter of minutes -during her fight with Chimist. Why can’t they report from the safety of a building? Pictures from a window would surely be sufficient.

After giving Tikki a cookie, Marinette slipped out of her hiding spot and searched for the building she’d thrown Allegra in earlier. That girl was bound to be worried after the way they were separated.

“Marinette!”

Marinette barely took two steps when someone collided into her with a hug. She yelped, stumbling a bit to keep them from falling.

“Oh, Mari, I was so worried!” Allegra said, holding her closer. “I didn’t see you after the building collapsed, and then Ladybug said you were fine, but you weren’t answering my calls!”

Oops. She’d forgotten her phone doesn’t receive calls while she’s Ladybug.

“Sorry, Allegra. I must have dropped my phone when Le Paon saved me earlier. How did you find me so fast?”

Allegra finally let her breath, pulling back to look her over for injuries.

“Oh, you know, Miraculous cure and all tha- Wait.” Her sky blue eyes snapped to Marinette’s with an intensity that made her squirm.

“Le Paon saved you?”

Oh, she did not like the way Allegra asked that question.

“..Yes?”

Her friend’s sky blue eyes bulged out of her head, and she whipped around to dig through her purse.

“Are you serious? This is great! We totally have to do an interview about this.” Allegra said eagerly.

Marinette furrowed her eyebrows. Interview?

“Allegra, Wha-”

Before she could finish, a phone was held up in front of her face, and Allegra started reciting her intro.

“This is Allegra Chanson with Marinette Dupain-Cheng at the scene of the latest akuma attack where this girl has just been saved by Le Paon! Please explain what happened.”

Marinette faltered under the camera and the weight of Allegra’s question.

What had happened? Her sworn enemy saved her. One could argue it was out of the goodness of his heart, but did a terrorist have such a thing?

“Well..” She began, choosing her words carefully. “I was trying to help film the fight when the building next to me collapse. I thought I was going to be crushed, but Le Paon came out of nowhere and cut the rock in half with his fan. Then he picked me up and brought me to a hidden alleyway to hide from the akuma.”

Allegra was beaming at this point, obviously forcing herself to stay still as she asked, “Did he say anything to you? What happened next?”

Marinette closed her eyes for a moment to remember. Everything happened so fast. She recalled him holding her, the way the feathers lining his collar tickled her arms, and how he sparkled in the light before jumping away.

“He told me to be safe.” She finally answered. “But that’s all he said.”

“So the supposed ‘Villain of Paris’ has saved yet another civilian! How do you feel about that?”

She sighed. Another difficult question. “I guess.. I’m grateful. Villain or not, Le Paon did save my life today. I can’t ignore that.”

Marinette didn’t know why Le Paon was helping Hawkmoth, or why he’d lied to her a few weeks ago, but she knew now that there must be a reason. Otherwise, he would have left her there on the road as a mere casualty.

“There you have it, people of Paris! Another witness of Le Paon’s deeds begs the question: Are we sure Le Paon is really the villain? Is it possible his intentions are pure? Tune in next time on ‘Birds of a Feather’!”

Allegra stopped the recording and let out an excited squeal. “Mari, this is amazing! I can’t wait to edit the footage.”

Marinette forced a laugh. “Yeah, I’m sure your viewers will like it.”

Allegra’s smile faded at the awkward tone and she gave her a concerned look. “Are you sure you’re okay? That was more dangerous than I expected. I’d understand if you don’t want to help me film anymore.”

Logically, she knew she should take the out. Allegra was being quite merciful with the offer, and Marinette knew she probably wouldn’t get a second chance to bail. Tikki would have her accept in a heartbeat. She’d be able to transform and fight the akumas without interruptions or setbacks.

Emotionally, however..

“Actually.. I think I like being a camera-girl.”

Her encounter with Le Paon had caught her by surprise. It was intriguing to be reunited with the person Ladybug met on the rooftop nights ago. She wanted to see him again- the real him, if her suspicions were correct. She wanted to know why he was doing what he was doing, and why he forced himself to put up a front when her alter-ego was around. How much would Le Paon reveal to simple Marinette?

Allegra’s grin returned, and she looped their arms together. “Awesome! Why don’t I come over to your house after school to edit the videos and figure out better ways to record the fights?”

Marinette smiled. “Sounds like a plan.”

Here’s to hoping she made the right decision.

~~~~~~

Felix massaged his temples to soothe his oncoming headache as he walked to the locker room. He had been this close to capturing Chat Noir’s miraculous today! If he hadn’t changed directions to help Marinette, Felix would be holding the cat miraculous at this very moment. Why was she on the battlefield? Why did he have to care whether she got crushed or not?

He sighed, opening his locker. Father wasn’t going to be pleased. This was the second time he had failed in retrieving the miraculous. In all fairness, how was he supposed to know that Ladybug would be able to neutralize all of Chimiste’s chemicals with a single tin of salt?

“Girl, I can’t believe you’re helping Allegra with her blog! That’s just wrong.” Alya humphed.

Felix glanced in their direction just in time to see Marinette’s apologetic smile. “Sorry, Alya. Allegra surprised me, and I felt bad saying no.”

So that’s why she was in the middle of the attack. He thought bitterly. Of course Allegra would drag the innocent girl into her ludicrous ideas.

“It’s not like the Ladyblog’s getting a lot of competition, though, right?” The ravenette continued. “Le Paon’s a villain.”

Felix supposed he should be used to comments such as those by now, considering he’d been hearing them relentlessly for the past week. He pushed his books into his bag and got ready to slip past them. No need to interrupt their delightful conversation or anything.

“That’s not what the viewers think.” Alya tisked.

He paused at the comment, hand hovering on the locker door.

The brunette pulled out her phone, and Felix chanced a look in their direction. A lengthy list of names resided on the screen, hidden underneath Allegra’s new video “Is Le Paon really the villain?”.

“He’s gotten really popular after saving you earlier. People are starting to think he might actually be a good person.”

Marinette frowned. “Then why would he be working for Hawkmoth?”

“No idea.” Her friend shrugged. “But Allegra’s viewers want to know. That’s how she’s drawing them in! It’s so unfair.”

Felix closed his locker door, and ducked past them. People are actually starting to think Le Paon isn’t a villain?

He unlocked his phone and searched for the video of his alter ego. What the Ladyblogger said had been true. The video currently held thousands of views and continued to grow by the minute. How could a simple video create such an uproar?

“Hey, Fe! How was your day at school?” Adrien asked as they climbed into their car.

“Uneventful. I assume you’re going to tell me about yours?”

“My day was great!” His little brother beamed. “Mrs. Bustier gave us a group assignment, which will hopefully give me more time with friends, and Marinette brought cookies!”

Felix hummed, remembering his visit to her bakery last week. Though he himself didn’t like sweets, he imagined the cookies she brought tasted delicious to Adrien.

“Is that a video? What’s it about?” Adrien asked next, peering over his shoulder at the phone. Allegra’s video was still splayed across the screen.

“Just something I heard about in the locker room.” He answered, pressing play. Might as well watch it now before he got home.

~This is Allegra Chanson with Marinette Dupain-Cheng at the scene of the latest akuma attack where this girl has just been saved by Le Paon!~

“Woah, Marinette was there? I didn’t see her.” Adrien thought aloud.

Felix rose a brow. “You weren’t there. This happened today, Adrien.”

Something akin to panic flashed in his brother’s eyes, and he let out a nervous laugh.

“O-Oh yeah, right. I was in class. No reason I’d be anywhere else.” He stuttered, rubbing the back of his neck.

~Well..~

Marinette’s uncertain voice came through the speakers, drawing the boys’ attention back to the video.

~I was trying to help film the fight when the building next to me collapse. I thought I was going to be crushed, but Le Paon came out of nowhere and cut the rock in half with his fan. Then he picked me up and brought me to a hidden alleyway to hide from the akuma.~

Adrien frowned. “Le Paon did that? There’s no way.”

Felix hushed him. Aside from the rising irritation about the comments of Le Paon, he couldn’t hear the video properly with his interruptions.

~Did he say anything to you? What happened next?~ Allegra asked eagerly.

Marinette stared off for a moment, and he swore her expression softened ever so slightly.

~..He told me to be safe, but that was all.~

~So the supposed ‘Villain of Paris’ has saved yet another civilian! How do you feel about that?~

Felix almost turned off the video then, half expecting her to simply insult him like the others did, but for some reason, he continued to watch.

~I guess.. I’m grateful. Villain or not, Le Paon did save my life today. I can’t ignore that.~

Adrien and Felix shared a shocked expression. She was.. grateful. Even though Le Paon was the cause of danger, the reason Paris fell to shambles on a weekly basis, she was grateful.

~There you have it, people of Paris! Another witness of Le Paon’s deeds begs the question: Are we sure Le Paon is really the villain? Is it possible his intentions are pure? Tune in next time on ‘Birds of a Feather’!~

Adrien scoffed as the video cut out. “Le Paon having pure intentions? I doubt that. Is Marinette sure he’s the one that even saved her?”

“You don’t believe her?” Felix asked, growing a bit defensive despite himself.

Adrien faltered. “No, I just.. I guess I don’t get it.”

Felix shrugged and put his phone back in his bag. He couldn’t say he understood the situation either. Father seemed set on taking the miraculous by force, but couldn’t they discuss this peacefully? At the very least, why not make akumas that weren’t as destructive. Father could easily create a stealth akuma or an akuma that detects the miraculous and steals them from the holder without them knowing.

Honestly, Felix didn’t know. He was only sure of one thing as he rewatched Allegra’s video on the way home.

Father is definitely not going to be pleased.

~~~~~~

Nathalie neatly stacked her reports and slipped them into their designated folder. After this, she needed to file Gabriel’s newest designs, call back a few of his clients, reschedule Friday’s meetings-

A dinging sound took her from her mental list, instead focusing her attention on the blue screen of the computer. The small, orange bubble that represented a notification rested in the bottom left corner. She clicked on it, wondering which extravagant celebrity was messaging Gabriel now.

~ “Birds of a Feather” posted a new video: Is Le Paon really the villain?~

Nathalie narrowed her eyes. Wasn’t ‘Le Paon’ the name that little brat had chosen for his miraculous?

She opened the tab to let the video play, a mix of curious and bitter. She should have the peacock miraculous- using a much better name, at that. If Gabriel wasn’t blinded by his feelings for his son, he would see that they can’t trust an ignorant child with a powerful jewel so casually.

Two girls appeared on the screen, one blonde and one with raven-colored hair. The blonde chattered on about Le Paon’s latest rescue, before turning the ravenette for details.

A smile curled onto Nathalie’s lips, and she swiftly pushed herself to her feet. Today’s akuma came close to getting Chat Noir’s miraculous, but because of Le Paon’s absence, Ladybug arrived in time to stop them both. It’d be a shame if Gabriel found out the reason for the loss was Le Paon’s weakness, even worse if he became furious about it and took Felix’s miraculous away.

Such a shame. She thought as she opened Gabriel’s office door. Where would she wear the peacock pin? On the left side of her suit coat, or the right side? Maybe she’ll ask Gabriel for his opinion on the matter.

“Sir, there’s a video about Le Paon.” She informed coolly.

“About Felix?” Gabriel echoed, looking up from his screen with a frown.

“Yes, sir.”

His frown deepened, yet he still looked handsome as ever as he took her tablet to watch the video.

“Bring Felix to my office when he gets home.” He instructed once the video ended.

Nathalie took far too much pleasure in his grim expression. She hated seeing him troubled, but knowing he was troubled about Felix made it worth it.

“Of course.” She said, masking her gratuitously cheerful mood with a neutral tone. This was it. This was the day Gabriel would realize his mistake and confide in a more worthy partner: her. She could help him fight against the dubbed “heroes of Paris”, they would grow closer as an unstoppable duo, and he would soon find out who he could truly rely on.

“Felix, you’re father would like a word with you.”

She didn’t hesitate calling the blond out when he stepped through the door. Felix sent her a glare, but he couldn’t hide the nervousness swirling in his icy eyes.

They quietly entered the room- because Nathalie wouldn’t dream of missing this reprimanding -and waited for Gabriel’s attention. She reveled in the way Felix stood stiff in front of the door.

How the arrogant fall.

“This is the second time put the lives of others ahead of your mother’s, Felix.” Gabriel finally began.

Felix tensed. “I can’t just watch innocent people die.”

“You can when you know they’ll live.” Her boss snapped. “If it weren’t for you saving that girl, we’d have Chat Noir’s miraculous.”

Nathalie soaked it all up like a sponge. All that’s left now is to take Felix’s miraculous, and things will be back on their proper coarse.

“That said, I suppose some praise is also due.”

“What?” Felix and Nathalie said in unison. Why on earth should he get praise? He failed!

“It’s a brilliant tactic, turning the people of Paris against the heroes themselves. Well done.” Gabriel stated.

The two blinked, dumbfounded by his comment.

“Ah.. thank you.” Felix finally replied.

Gabriel nodded. “Nevertheless, remember to keep your focus on Ladybug. If you have to choose between saving a civilian and getting the miraculous, get the miraculous.”

Felix swallowed. She could see the clench of his fists, the way his lips tightened into a line to keep from arguing.

Argue, brat. Nathalie thought with a mental scowl. Try to snark off to Gabriel like you do to me daily.

He only nodded, and Nathalie gripping her tablet to keep from screaming. This wasn’t reasonable! None of this was reasonable! He’d failed them. Gabriel said it himself. There was no room for second chances!

“Good. You are excused.”

And yet, Felix got to breathe a sigh of relief as he left the office with nothing more than a trivial warning. Would she have received any warnings if she had the peacock miraculous? It was doubtful, and that made her all the more enraged.

“Sir, if I may, are you sure Felix is a suitable candidate for the Peacock miraculous?” She’d stood by and watched this madness continue for two weeks now. If nothing changed after the disaster that morning, she might pull her hair out.

Gabriel rose a brow. “He’s my son. Of course he’s fit for a miraculous.”

Nathalie willed herself not to groan. Of course. His son. Was that the only good quality Felix possessed? Would she forever be second-best in Gabriel’s eyes because of something as delicate as a bloodline?

“I merely wondered if Felix is.. committed, like we are.”

Gabriel narrowed his eyes. “My decision about the miraculous is final. As his mother, I’m sure Emilie would want Felix to be a part of her healing. Do not question me again.”

Nathalie bit her tongue and forced herself to breath. You know what? This was fine. Felix being Gabriel’s son can only pardon him for so long. He’ll eventually make more mistakes. He has to.

“Apologies. It won’t happen again.”

As the old saying states: all good comes to those who wait.

~~~~~~

Felix shifted in his reading nook and stared at his book, mesmerizing the curve of the words and texture of the page.

“If you have to choose between saving a civilian and getting the miraculous, get the miraculous.”

How could Father say such a thing? How can he expect Felix sacrifice breathing, living people for a pair of earrings? The whole reason they were after the jewelry was because his mother was on the brink of death. Father can’t expect him to put someone else in that situation. Yes, the Miraculous Cure brings people back to life, but they still died. He imagines that sticks with a person.

At least he got to see the pure rage on Nathalie’s face as he left the room. Felix thought her head was going to explode when Father started complimenting him.

“Alright, Fe. Spill it.”

The stern tone of Adrien’s voice brought him from his thoughts, and he looked up to see Adrien with crossed arms and a concerned expression. That’s never good.

“Excuse me?”

“You’ve been staring at that page for the past hour. We both know you could read a full book in that time span.”

“Since when do you document my reading pace?” Felix quipped.

“Since you started keeping me up from page-flipping during your nightly reading.”

“How does that keep you awake?”

“The point is,” Adrien sighed, “Father’s been calling you to his office a lot lately. Is everything okay?”

Felix set down his book with a small smile. It was good to know Adrien cared. Unfortunately, this was one thing he couldn’t confide in his brother about.

“We have a new fashion line coming up, remember? Preparation is key.”

Adrien’s shoulders sagged slightly. “I guess.. So, you’re okay then?”

Felix nodded, putting his book to the side and standing up. “Perfectly fine. In fact, I’m going to downtown to the library. A new book is supposed to be coming out, and I want to explore the other books from the author before it arrives.”

He felt Adrien’s eyes on him as he crossed the room to get his book bag.

“Don’t we have our own library that’s full of books downstairs?”

Felix rose a brow. “And?”

His brother chuckled. “Just make sure Father knows you’re leaving. You know how he gets.”

Felix nodded and slipped on his book bag, knowing full well he wasn’t going to tell Father anything. Sometimes it was good to have some alone time. (and he meant actually alone, not with Gorilla looming over him like Father normally suggested.)

“I’ll see you later.”

Father had grown extremely adamant about security and keeping an eye on them at all times since mother died, but, as usual, his overabundance was his downfall. Because he wanted to keep them in the house, Father attempted to supply them with their every need, food included. This resulted in the building of a storage door, where the delivery man can hull in his orders without fuss. It also resulted in a subtle way to sneak out if Felix wished to do so.

He didn’t use it often, else Father might find it and patch it up immediately, but for certain occasions such as- say -going on late night runs as Le Paon, the door was a nice convenience for him.

After scanning the room for cameras and nosy employees, Felix slipped through said door and stepped out in the night air. It was crisp this evening, the faint wind emphasizing the temperature. He’s sure Le Paon won’t feel a thing, though, with his feather-lined overcoat.

“Duusu, spread my feathers!”

The magic wrapped around him like a second skin, bringing warmth and strength with it. Felix- now Le Paon -set his bag next to the door, hoping he remembers to bring it in when he comes back.

Le Paon set off, using a fire escape to get to the rooftops. Telling Adrien that he was going to the library gave him at least a few hours to roam the streets.

A deep breath pressed against the caves of his chest as he took a particularly large leap. The feathers on his overcoat brought him higher into the air, giving him the breathtaking view of Paris.

Lights littered the city and illuminated the sky with it. A few civilians could be spotted on the sidewalks, some on the phone, some together, and others simply enjoying the scenery as he was. The eiffel tower stood tall and firm, shining the brightest in the middle of it all. Everything was so peaceful. He couldn’t help feeling grateful- once again -for Ladybug’s Miraculous Cure. It’d be a shame if Paris had to stay in ruin after their attacks.

Attacks. He didn’t like the sound of that. Then again, there wasn't another way to describe it either.

After an hour or two of aimlessly wandering around with his thoughts, Le Paon stopped on a lone balcony. He settled into a small, pink lawn chair next to a trapdoor, telling himself he would only stay for a moment. The chances of someone coming up here and finding him were slim, anyway.

Stars sprinkled the sky above, so small and pure. A part of Felix wished his troubles were that small too. (being millions of miles away from him would also help.) It’s not that he didn’t want his mother back, or that he wasn’t elated about a possible cure for her illness, but he didn’t understand why the process of getting the jewelry had to be forceful. Yes, they had to lure out the heroes. That was fine, but why continue the fight after they reveal themselves? Perhaps Father didn’t think they would agree to his request? What if-

A slam interrupted his thoughts, and he sprang from the lawn chair to look for the source.

The trapdoor had been pushed open, and there, standing midway through, was none other than Marinette Dupain-Cheng.

Silence stretched between as they stared at each other, holding equally shocked expressions. A million thoughts clouded Le Paon’s mind, the loudest of which being how he missed their bakery’s sign for the second time.

He bolted out of the chair, gripping the metal railing and swinging himself over it. If he ran fast enough, he’d be home and detransformed before the cops could even make it to her house.

“Wait!”

Le Paon froze at the bottom of her rooftop, heart pounding in his chest. He thought about running home, about ignoring her plea and pretending it wouldn’t keep him up that night.

He turns to face her anyway, and she seems just as shocked about the outburst, with her hand to her mouth and eyes wide.

“I..” Marinette starts, shyly meeting his eyes. “I didn’t get to thank you. For saving me, I mean.”

Oh, the situations I get myself into. He thought, glancing in the direction of his house. Father wouldn’t like his alter ego talking to others. That could jeopardize his identity or get him captured.

But it’s just Marinette. Le Paon told himself, hesitantly climbing back onto the balcony. It’s not like he was having another 3am conversation with Ladybug.

“You really don’t have to thank me for anything.” He said, hoisting himself onto the railing to sit.

Marinette furrowed her brow, but didn’t say anything. Instead, she crossed her arms and leaned on the balcony next to him. He wondered what kind of confidence one must have to be so comfortable with someone of his status. She didn’t even have her phone out in case she needed to call the police. (She wouldn’t have to, but still.)

“Can I ask you something?” She spoke up, eyes trailing up to the sky in thought.

Le Paon followed her gaze and shrugged. A simple question shouldn’t hurt.

“If you’re willing to save people like me, why are you helping Hawkmoth terrorize the city?”

People like her, she says, as if she isn’t the most unique and radiant human being in all of Paris.

“It’s complicated. You wouldn’t understand.” He wanted to tell her, or at least talk to someone about it, but Felix had a feeling Marinette wouldn’t see his side of things. Not only that, he had both Ladybug and Father to worry about. If Father knew he told someone about the miraculous, he’d be furious, and Ladybug, if Marinette somehow slipped up or purposely revealed his reasoning, might be able to find him faster.

A light touch enveloped his hand, and his gaze snapped to hers.

“Maybe.. I would?” Marinette said carefully, squeezing her hand around his with a gentle reassurance. “I know we just met, but.. everyone needs someone to talk to, and.. I’m willing to listen. I-If you want, that is.”

Felix exhaled, completely floored. This girl who’s never met him before- that she knows of -is stretching forth her hand with kindness. Despite being strangers, despite knowing he’s a dangerous villain.. She’s offering to help him.

“It’s my mother.”

He should go.

“She’s fallen into a coma.”

He should leave right now before he sinks further into whatever this is.

“We’ve tried everything with no cure.” and yet, he continues. “There’s a rumor that if the Ladybug and Chat Noir miraculous come together, they can grant one wish. If I could just get the miraculous..”

Le Paon shook his head, pulling his hand away. “I’m sorry. I need to go. I’ve been gone too long already.”

“Will I see you again?” She asked as he slipped off the railing.

He held back a chuckle. Inviting a villain back to your own home? Marinette really was careless.

“I’m glad you’re safe.” Le Paon replied, not quite answering her question. He then slid to the bottom of the roof, allowing himself one last look as he left.

Exactly how much did he mess up just now?

~~~~~~

Marinette watched Le Paon leave, dumbfounded.

She was.. right. She was right! Le Paon wasn’t a villain! He just wants his mother back!

Oh crap, she was right. What is she gonna do now? Marinette can’t fight him after tonight. She’ll have to, though. He’s still terrorizing the city, whether it’s for a good reason or not.

Wait, if he’s doing this for his mother, and it can be assumed that Hawkmoth is doing this for the same reason, then who is Le Paon’s mother? Why does Hawkmoth care about her? Are the three related somehow?

Then there’s that wish Le Paon mentioned. Could the two miraculous really be that powerful?

“Tikki, is what he said true? Can the miraculous really grant a wish like that?” She asked, looking down at the red kwami. The small being had reappeared a few minutes after Le Paon’s exit.

Tikki looked conflicted. “Well, yes, but there’s a trick to it, Marinette. The universe has things happen for a reason. So for every wish you make, something will happen somewhere else to keep the balance.”

“So if he took the miraculous and wished for his mother to be healed-”

“Someone else would get sick, or even die.” Tikki finished with a nod. “Aside from that, no one should have that much power.”

Marinette sighed. That wasn’t the news she wanted to hear, and she’s sure Le Paon will be devastated about it too. Could she even tell him about it? As Marinette, he’d wonder how she knew, and she couldn’t tell him as Ladybug for obvious reasons. Le Paon would think she betrayed him and never come back.

“How do I get myself into these situations?” She groaned, burying her face in her hands.

Tikki put a hand on her shoulder. “Because you’re a true Ladybug. It’s good that you want to help people.”

“Not when I don’t know how.”

“We’ll find a way.” Tikki promised.

Yes, Marinette was sure they would, but many people would suffer in the meantime?

And how would she face Le Paon as Ladybug until then?

Tag List: @im-here-for-the-content @novicevoice @mewwitch@minightrose @frostymoon11 @multishipper1needshalp@unabashedbookworm @unholykrow @trubel43@kaydenth3gayden @stardustrevoutionx @legendaryneckjudgestudent @aurordraws @crazylittlemunchkin @uwuteamleader @chocolatecustarddanish @iambi-thilla-meena @corabeth11 @asainfrustration13 @chrismarium @agumon1123 @luciferge @yue-caelum @persephonebutkore @constancetruggle @fanficaddict4ever @johnlockfeelz @imfreakingmagical @tinybrie

#Le Paon AU #Felix Agreste #Marinette #Felinette

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tamayokny · 4 years

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family shopping trip; kanera week 2020

Hi, everyone! I hope you have all enjoyed Kanera Week. Here is my small contribution to it. I wrote this the week before I started back university, and I found myself enjoying it as I stressed for the first week! Now here I am, about to continue on to week three and still in an uproar, LOL. Seeing all of your creations, though? It has brought relief to me. I hope this gift returns the favor!

Special thanks to Nikki and Sara for hosting @kaneraweek. Seriously, you guys are amazing!

[AO3 LINK]

sypnosis: Kanan, Hera, and their family take a last minute trip to Walmart. It goes as well as one would expect.

For Kanera Week, Day 7: Family.

(I apologize if formatting is weird. We’re currently having disagreements with each other.)

Sitting in the Walmart parking lot at 9:50 in the evening was not part of Kanan’s Wednesday plans. Yet here he was, in the passenger seat as Hera maneuvered into one of the parking spaces perfectly, van jerking when she set it to park.

“When we get inside, you get what you need and go. We are on the clock, there’s no time for games,” Kanan warned his family. “Once you’re done getting whatever it is, you find Hera. Got it?”

“Yes sir,” Ezra, Sabine, and Garazeb echoed altogether, slight wit in their tones.

“He especially means you, Ezra,” Sabine quipped from the middle row, a teasing grin forming on her face.

“Shut up!” Ezra retaliated, swatting at Sabine’s head. Sabine dodged out of his reach and pressed herself against the car door.

“Don’t fight in front of Jacen,” Hera chided.

“Knock it off,” Kanan translated. “Everyone know what they need?”

“Yes.”

“Good. Now get out.”

Ezra and Sabine rushed out of the van, charging through the parking lot and into the store. Garazeb was climbing out from the backseat, grumbling about how those good-for-nothing kids just left him behind.

“You think you would get used to it,” Kanan mused as he unbuckled his seat belt and proceeded to get out of the van.

“Oh, not you too!” Garazeb groaned, slamming the door behind him.

Meanwhile, Kanan and Hera were the last ones to get out. Hera was busy with making sure the headlights were turned off before exiting the driver’s seat and getting Jacen. Kanan was busy making sure he was exiting the van safely, getting his white cane ready as he had to venture into a hellhole with his chaotic family.

“You ready?” Hera came up to his side, Jacen curling in her arms.

“Yeah,” Kanan replied. “Let’s go.”

The couple and their small son walked briskly across the parking lot, the tapping of Kanan’s cane echoing off the asphalt.

“Remind me again: why are we here at ten o’clock at night?” Kanan asked Hera, trying his best not to sound agitated.

“Because Ezra and Sabine forgot that they had projects to complete, and Zeb came along for a beer run,” Hera reminded her husband as she grabbed a cart, promptly placing Jacen in the child seat. “We also need to restock on groceries, we’re running low this week.”

“It’s what we get for sending Zeb and Ezra out to do the shopping on Saturday,” Kanan sighed. Hera laughed.

“Well, it gives us a family adventure. How many can say that they take a trip to Walmart at 10 o’clock on a Wednesday night?”

“A lot of people.”

* * * * *

When Hera said that they needed to restock on groceries, they really needed to restock on groceries.

“This is going to take longer than expected,” Hera noted in an apologetic tone.

“When it’s our family, expect the unexpected,” Kanan mused. He smiled as he felt his son’s chubby hand toying with the hand Kanan had resting on the handlebar.

Hera snorted as she grabbed the next item from her grocery list. “You got that right.”

“Besides being out so late, I am enjoying this,” Kanan added thoughtfully. While it’s true that he wasn’t exactly happy with Ezra and Sabine’s forgetfulness, he did enjoy the time he spent with his family.

“Well, you always did like to do the grocery shopping,” Hera smiled.

“You can thank my mom for that. I always loved running errands with her,” Kanan reminisced. “And wherever you go, I go. Mostly.”

“Right. I don’t think you could do my job,” Hera joked, before reaching up to kiss her husband. “Now—what is it?”

Kanan had frozen up on the spot, a certain feeling of intuition washing over him. This specific feeling happened when—

“Ezra and Sabine is doing something dumb. I know it.”

GARAZEB. GARAZEB. GARAZEB.

Kanan sighed as his phone rang. Having a feeling knowing what he was calling for, Kanan answered the call.

“Yes?”

“Ezra and Sabine are arguing about movies.”

“Put me on speaker.”

Garazeb followed Kanan’s command, putting his phone on speaker. He could hear the two teenagers bickering (something about Studio Ghibli? Kanan wasn’t totally sure), and he was sure that Hera and Jacen could hear the fight, as Hera shot him a perplexed look while Jacen babbled happily, recognizing the voices.

“Hey!” Kanan barked out. The arguing ceased almost immediately as Ezra and Sabine heard the authority. “What did I say? Get what you need and meet Hera and I!”

“But—!”

“No buts,” Kanan interrupted. “We are out late enough already, and Jacen is getting tired—”

“Unlikely.”

“—and need I remind you that you both have school tomorrow?” Ezra and Sabine didn’t say anything else, which made Kanan feel triumph. “Good to hear.”

Kanan hung up without another word. Hera looked at him, and Kanan didn’t need his sight to know that she was thinking.

“Why is Zeb with them?”

“I—” Kanan began but stopped short. She was right. Why was he with them? He should be in the frozen foods and alcohol aisles of this stupid store.

“And did you really use our son to control them?”

Kanan smirked as he could hear the teasing in Hera’s voice.

“They don’t always listen to me, you know. Sometimes, it’s good to guilt-trip big siblings.”

“They know Jacen is somewhat of a night owl,” Hera pointed out.

Kanan shrugged. “Yeah, well...they’re going to get back on track.”

“You think?” If Hera had to be honest, she knew Sabine and Ezra were going to cause more ruckus. Kanan had to know as well, but he was holding on to some shred of faith that they would get their act together.

It was going to be an interesting trip, as if it wasn't already. * * * * * Hera had to get more underwear and Kanan was wondering if she had put everything on the backburner, because purchasing underwear was not on their weekly shopping list.

“Why do you need it?” Kanan asked.

“The wire broke in one bra, and both Ezra and Zeb need more boxers,” Hera explained. She began to walk around a rack when she suddenly stopped.

“What’s going on?” Kanan asked, sensing her still figure.

“It’s Ezra and Sabine. Ezra’s holding a bra out in front him. I think they’re goofing off.”

“EZRA!”

“GAH!” Ezra yelped, throwing the article of clothing away from him. He ran off, Sabine right on his heels, laughing, before either Kanan or Hera could question or scold them.

Kanan felt like he aged ten more years. This was starting to be a long night for him.

“For the love of—let’s just go.”

The couple continued to navigate through the aisles, with Kanan pushing the cart and entertaining their young son while Hera picked out what they needed. Hera would talk to Kanan often, asking his opinion on what they needed and if he had any preferences. She would make jokes that would cause Kanan to laugh, with Jacen giggling along as a result.

Kanan cherished these moments. This family that he had: Hera, Garazeb, the kids...despite what he may say or present to the world, he loved them.

SABINE. SABINE. SABINE.

For the second time that night, Kanan’s phone rang. This time it was Sabine. Kanan was quick to accept the call.

“Yes?” Kanan answered.

“What’s our budget?” Sabine asked. Kanan exhaled in relief, knowing that she was at least focused on her task as of right now.

“Depends on what you need. You know our budget system.”

“Cool. Thanks.”

Sabine hung up, leaving Kanan to put his phone away.

“It sounds like Sabine is on track,” Hera observed.

“Better than Ezra,” Kanan agreed. “I know he’s trying, but he cannot afford to fail his assignment...that’s due in fourteen hours.”

“He’ll get it done. It’s not that hard, is it?”

“It sounds like it’s not, but you know how he is. Procrastinating until the last minute, goofing off in the meantime...”

Hera raised an eyebrow. “Sounds like someone I know.”

Kanan scowled. “I know you’re not talking about me.”

“Do you think I’ve forgotten all the stories your mother has told me?” Hera questioned. “All about a rowdy little boy, who, while doing his work was also known to be quite the troublemaker?”

Kanan deflated, knowing Hera wasn’t far off.

“I wasn’t a troublemaker. I just caused mischief,” Kanan half-heartedly defended. “And don’t forget inquisitive. I was always asking questions.”

“Sounds like a teenaged boy we know now.”

Kanan stopped, as he heard familiar yells from the back of the store.

“Isn’t that Ezra and Garazeb?” Hera asked.

“Yes,” Kanan gritted out. “I’ll be right back.”

Kanan left Hera and Jacen, navigating his way to the sound of the yelling. As he got closer, he could hear hollow plastic bouncing and clattering against each other. Kanan narrowed his eyes.

“Ahem.”

Kanan couldn’t see them, but he was sure that they froze in position, with one of them dropping the item in their hand.

“What aisle are we in?” Kanan asked, even though he already had a good idea already.

Garazeb was the one to speak up.

“The toy aisle.”

“And why are we in the toy aisle?”

“...because we’re bored?”

Kanan sighed, shaking his head as his hands found purchase on his hips. He was sure he was mimicking both Hera and his mother’s “mom pose”, but he found himself not caring in the slightest.

“Garazeb, you go finish your own shopping list. Ezra, lead me to the art supply aisle. Now.”

“Alright, geezer, I’m leaving,” Garazeb informed Kanan. He then leered at Ezra, ruffling the teenager’s hair. “Have fun with daddy.”

Ezra scowled, swatting at Garazeb. “Shut up, you weirdo! It was your idea to battle it out!”

“Watch it, kid!” Garazeb retorted, pushing Ezra slightly.

“Hey! You—” Ezra started, but stopped when Kanan tugged his arm.

“Let’s go. Now.”

Ezra grumbled, but led Kanan to where he needed to go anyway. Kanan made sure to send Hera a text (with Ezra proofreading), letting her know that he was with Ezra. * * * * * Jacen was playing with Hera’s phone when it rang. Startled by the vibration, Jacen threw the phone up in the air, but Hera was able to catch it. She scanned the ID, answering quickly.

“Yes?”

“I’m with Ezra, but Sabine’s not here. Have you seen her?”

“No,” Hera drawled out. “Is she in need of the same supplies as Ezra?”

“I think so,” Kanan answered. “...but I don’t know.”

Hera said nothing.

“Kan—”

CRASH!

“Shit!” Hera heard a loud curse from the next aisle over. She knew who it was by the sound of their voice.

“Hera, what was—”

“I gotta go. Bye.”

Hera hung up, throwing her phone into her purse before she pushed the cart and ran to the next aisle.

Hera found Garazeb in the aisle, looking as if he was about to lose it as he stared at broken bottles and alcohol substances on the floor.

“Uh, Zeb?”

Garazeb, who was staring at the mess, slowly looked up to meet Hera’s gaze.

“Everything’s fine.”

“Zeb—”

“Really, Hera. It’s okay. I’ll even pay for this mess,” Garazeb stopped her, as he picked up a new case and placed it on the bottom rack of the shopping cart. “I’ll pay for this, too.”

“It’s fine, Zeb. We’re part of the same household,” Hera told him.

“No, I insist.”

Hera opened her mouth to speak but shut it and shook her head to herself, ultimately deciding not to argue with Garazeb. She had to meet with Kanan, Ezra, and Sabine soon.

“Alright. Do you need anything else? I think all of your usual requests.”

“Yeah. I need a pack of cigarettes.” * * * * *

Everything was not fine.

Kanan was standing in the craft section of the door, arms crossed as he heard Ezra freak out over what to get. Apparently, the teenager either forgot or did not plan this out. Kanan was sure that it was a mixture of both scenarios.

“What is the assignment? It’s not like it’s the same as Sabine’s, is it?” Kanan questioned.

“No,” Ezra huffed, furrowing his eyebrows. Kanan could sense that he was frustrated so instead of teasing him, the older man decided to guide Ezra the best he could.

“So, what’s the assignment?” Kanan repeated. Ezra told him, which led to Kanan nodding, a sign that he was actively listening. “Okay, so you’ll probably just need some cardboard, some colored paper, and markers. Those are probably some of your starting items you need.”

“Okay,” Ezra said before he began to mumble to himself, a sign that he was focused on the task. Kanan hummed in contentment, sensing that Ezra’s frustration had begun to ebb away. As he stood there, however, he realized something.

“Where’s Sabine?”

“How should I know? Maybe she’s back with Hera,” Ezra suggested.

“I heard my name?” Hera popped out of nowhere, with Garazeb carrying Jacen in tow. It appeared that he was both keeping him entertained and helping Hera in regards to storage. The shopping cart was almost overflowing, especially since her organizer (Kanan) had disappeared on her.

“We were talking about Sabine. Have you seen her?” Kanan questioned.

“No,” Hera shook her head. “She’s not around here?”

“I haven’t heard anything that indicated so,” Kanan answered.

“I haven’t seen her,” Ezra confirmed.

“Me either,” Garazeb added.

“That’s strange. Where could she—” Kanan began, but stopped abruptly. Realizing that if she wasn’t here, then she was in—

“I’ll be back,” Kanan huffed.

“I’ll come with you,” Hera said. She looked up to Garazeb. “Zeb, watch the cart and the kids.”

“Hey!” Ezra shouted. “I’m not a kid.”

“Yes you are,” Kanan told him. He motioned for Hera before turning to walk away. Hera was right by his side in seconds.

“Where do you think she’s at?” Hera asked, as she glanced through the aisles that they passed.

“If you were obsessed with constantly changing your appearance, where would you be?” Kanan asked.

“Of course!” The realization hit Hera. “Of course…”

The couple found Sabine in no time in the hair product aisle, inspecting boxes of…

“Sabine.”

Sabine’s head snapped towards the sound of Hera’s call, dropping her shopping basket in process. Hera could see that Sabine had items in the basket, indicating that the girl had picked up what she needed, and had decided to take a quick stop in this section.

“I got what I needed, I swear!” Sabine proclaimed, picking the basket back up. She began to list off all the stuff she had.

“We believe you,” Kanan told her. “But do you really need to dye your hair again?”

“Yes,” Sabine answered. “I won’t do it tonight, but I want to get this color before they sell out. Is that okay?”

“Yes.”

“No.”

Hera and Kanan glanced at each other. Hera’s face showed perplexity, and Kanan showed similar sentiment.

“Kanan?” Hera questioned.

“Aren’t you coming back later?”

“Just let her get it. It does look like they’re running low on what she wants.”

“Fine.”

“Yes!” Sabine cheered. “Thank you, thank you! You guys are the best!”

Sabine ran towards the married couple, hugging Hera first before Kanan.

“You’re sweet, Sabine,” Hera smiled at the teenager. “Now, come on. We should get back to—”

“YOU DON’T KNOW WHAT YOU’RE TALKING ABOUT!”

Hera and Sabine glanced at each other and at Kanan, who could only sigh heavily for what must have been the thirtieth time since they’ve been at Walmart.

“Kanan,” Hera began.

“I’m strangling them both,” Kanan said. “Do not wait for me.”

It didn’t take long for Kanan to find Ezra and Garazeb, seeing as they weren’t being quiet in their bickering. It also helped that Jacen was babbling and laughing at the scene in front of him, only getting happier when Kanan returned.

“Dada!”

Judging by the pitter-patter sounds, Jacen was moving towards Kanan. Kanan knelt down, holding his arms out and caught his young son in his hold, picking him up and giving him a kiss.

“What’s Uncle Zeb and Ezra doing?” Kanan asked Jacen.

“Fi!” the young boy answered, glee in his tone.

“Fight?” Kanan mused, as if he didn’t already know what Garazeb and Ezra were doing. His head tilted in the direction of the bantering. Kanan didn’t quite catch what they were fighting about, but he would bet that Garazeb provoked Ezra in some manner. It’s what he did best.

“Are you two done?” Kanan asked, and almost flinched at the exhaustion in his own voice. He must be more tired than he realized. He wished he knew what time it was, besides the fact that it was past his own bedtime.

Garazeb and Ezra froze, their attention gravitating towards Kanan. They could tell by his tone and body language that he was exhausted...exhausted of their antics. Deciding not to talk back (this time), the two sighed in defeat.

“Yes, sir,” Garazeb and Ezra echoed.

“Good,” Kanan nodded. “Ezra, did you get what you needed?”

“Yes.”

“Then let’s go!”

* * * * *

The ragtag family returned to the house around 11:30. As soon as Hera parked in the garage, Sabine and Ezra booked out of the van and into the house so they could work on their projects. Kanan and Hera could only chuckle at their antics, not surprised in the slightest.

Jacen was fast asleep in his car seat, and Garazeb offered to put him to bed as Kanan and Hera took care of the groceries.

“Just don’t wake him up,” Hera agreed to Garazeb’s helping hand. “We don’t want a repeat of last time.”

“We certainly don’t. You can leave my stuff out, I’ll take care of it,” Garazeb told the couple up front before he carried Jacen out and into the house.

As soon as Garazeb entered the house, both Hera and Kanan sighed in relief.

“That was a trip,” Kanan was the first to speak.

“You know something like this happens whenever we all go out together,” Hera pointed out, smiling in thought. “You know you love it.”

“I don’t,” Kanan said quickly.

“I don’t believe you,” Hera told him.

“I know you don’t.” Kanan leaned over the PRNDL, giving Hera a chaste kiss on the lips. “Come on, let’s get this stuff put away.”

* * * * * *

Some notes:

Basic title because I forgot to actually come up with a title.

Kanan is blind from an undisclosed accident. He has a folding white cane, but does not always use it.

The scenarios that Ezra and Sabine are put through are based off my own experiences with my friends at Walmart. It's also the only place you can hang out, especially if you're under the age of 21 LOL

Zeb is semi-inspired by my aunt's brother. Zeb definitely gives the vibe of the middle-aged, single uncle that consumes alcohol and cigarettes.

Chopper is the family pet. I was thinking of a shih tzu (because...they're chaotic). I haven't finalized my decision, so any input on what animal Chopper would be is welcomed.

Thank you so much for reading!

#kaneraweek #star wars rebels #kanan jarrus #hera syndulla #ezra bridger #sabine wren #garazeb orrelios #jacen syndulla #star wars #zeb orrelios #fanfiction #mads writes fic #kanera #i had a lot of fun writing this LOL

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pleasefeedthebirds · 4 years

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A Relatively Deep Dive Into My “Crème de la Crème” MCs - #2. Arminia Weschen

(“Crème de la Crème” is by @hpowellsmith. See my first post in this series here.)

Arminia “Ms. Weschen” Weschen

she/her/hers

Olive complexion and wavy brown hair

Favors conventionally feminine fashion

Domineering

Manipulative

Traditional → Progressive (*In the very end of the game)

Exceptional Poise and Intrigue

Commonplace Spirit, Wit, and Flair

LOADS more info and spoiler content under the cut!

Ooooo Mean Girl alert! After playing through the game twice as relatively well-meaning albeit inherently-morally-questionable-via-flimsy-upbringings-socialized-within-the-cushion-of-wealth characters, I had an absolute blast throwing high regard for redeeming qualities to the wind, and making a full-on self-centered and socially ruthless manipulator.

As the middle child in a sibling spread of five, Arminia felt overlooked for most of her young life, being the only one of her brood who wasn’t excellent at anything tangible. Her parents—busy-bodied magnates—would be exorbitantly rich if they weren’t such spendthrifts. I take them for bristling, insecure types who enable each other to the extreme, and who cater to their children's’ every material want, supposing that it makes up for being busy and distant. They believe in flagrant displays of luxury as proof of status, which is something that imprinted their kids thoroughly, Arminia included.

Making the executive decision that Arminia was “too good” for Holtsfield, they arranged her transference to Gallatin for her final year of college, hoping to expand her education in social graces before coaxing her into the business world, as they had her older brother and sister. Just before the term began, Arminia’s parents were exposed. They were both involved in an embezzlement scheme each (lol classic) and dropped swiftly and irreparably from their prior standing.

Arminia was already conditioned to view society as a tower, but when her parents fell, it suddenly became a matter of sink or swim, win or lose—and the stakes were higher than ever.

So, she takes Gallatin for her own personal jungle gym. She recognizes the system, and chooses to manipulate it as an aspiring expert of “the game.” Never being the type to talk seriously (not trusting anyone enough), she actually thinks that she’s the first of her circles to realize the hypocritical convolutions of high society and social graces. Instead of rebelling, she leans into it all the more, and clings to her realized understanding as an advantage.

Though working for her own benefit usually comes first (typically by emotionally strongarming kids into doing her bidding), Arminia is no stranger to putting others down for cruel amusement, and may step out of her way to do so, only partially in the spirit of preserving her alpha status. She’s a merciless strategist, because that’s what she thinks it means to thrive in the world today, and with quite the competitive streak, she’s determined to stay on top, no matter how lonely it turns out to be.

5’7”, with a soft, pear-shaped body. Her favorite vice is getting scandalous on the side, so she knows how to flaunt it, too.

Has very thick and dark eyebrows. She’s frequently enraged by their presence, and plucks them relentlessly. They always come back.

Is dexterous with makeup. Her lips are naturally thin, so she draws them out each morning, rouges her cheeks, and softens her face’s edges. On weekends, she dabbles in eyeliner.

Her eyes are a very light brown—nearly yellow at golden hour. For her spotty vision, she has prescribed reading glasses, but never wears them, because she doesn’t like integrating things into her aesthetic that are outside of her choice.

Freckled all over. Their allotment becomes more profuse the tanner she gets. She feigns indifference to them, but shifts between liking them (for distinguishing her) and hating them (for distinguishing her) depending on the day.

Suffers something of a protagonist’s condition, living in a self-made belief that everything she does matters beyond compare. She clings to this idea for the sake of feeling important, but generally fails to recognize that other people are every bit as complex as she is.

Has trouble handling her anger. She’s great at hiding it in the moment, but absolutely rampages when she’s alone.

A tragic kissass to all of her teachers. Mr. Griffith raises an eyebrow, but respects her social wit. I don’t think Mr. Blanchard knows what to do with that kind of deference, and so ignores it. Miss Dalca probably likes her moxie, but thinks she’d be better to use it for good, and has called her out on being unnecessarily pointed in class discussions (Arminia loves and hates this). Lady Renaldt likely sees her as adequate, if a bit too brusque toward her fellow students.

Virtue: 74%

Popularity: 87%

Coursework Grade: A

Exam Mark: C

Extracurricular: Gallatin Swans (offensive)

Entanglements: Platonically engaged to Gonzalez. Physically involved with Florin.

Her only real friend is Gonzalez, who she actually confides in. Not totally, though she gets as close as is doable for her. I think Gonzalez is the only one of her peers who genuinely falls for the faux-nice act, and Arminia takes pity. It’s not kind , but at the end of the day, Arminia still takes her for a total idiot. They get engaged for appearances.

Has a physical relationship with the Honourable Florin Kraemer. Florin seems to thrive on trouble, giving as much as receiving, and Arminia takes risks as her favorite vice. However, post-mine conflict, I imagine Arminia’s scarred into changing for the better, and would do her best to encourage Florin to do the same, at least be more conscious of their actions on other people and what their profligacy is capable of.

Cordial with Auguste, who respected her traditionally respectable appearances at Archambault events.

Cordial with Rosario. She and Arminia shot the shit a few times. The princess’s naïveté was easy for Arminia to work around, and say the right thing to. They wouldn’t easily become genuine friends.

So-so with Freddie, who stays out of Arminia’s way. Arminia likes that, so there’s no issue with them.

Treats Karson like a servant, and sees little issue with that.

Could have been friends with Max. I bet she intrigues him for her scandalous-by-moonlight ways, but her faux-pleasantries absolutely would turn him off.

A bully to Delacroix. Says mocking things to him and his interests in a tone that’s just sweet enough to fly below the radar. Gets a sense of her own social security out of doing so.

She and Blaise were utterly abhorrent to each other. Upon the latter’s first introduction as a thorn in her side, Arminia sniped right back at Blaise like a spitting cat for as long as Blaise was around. She gets a smug satisfaction upon her “resignation,” though she acts sad to avoid coming under fire. Later turns to a confused sense of guilt when she learns where Blaise has really been.

Some Choice Plot Pieces (cue spoilers):

Gathered evidence against Mr. Blanchard in compliance with Lady Renaldt.

Has a surprisingly great working relationship with Miss Benton.

Gathered information for Annick against Lady Renaldt (to avoid a smear on her own reputation).

Endgame (cue SUPER spoilers):

Almost ended up working with Lady Renaldt in the mine plot, hoping to turn the situation to her own gain. However, when Karson spilled that Gaspard Breiner died there, and when Lady Renaldt demanded she send Gonzalez, it was too much to comply with.

Sent Gonzalez to the mines (as part of her own plan), but got everyone out.

Barged right into the graduation ceremony.

Went on to study at Reissenger (I imagine on a lacrosse scholarship—fully just to be with Gonzalez).

Planned a trip with Florin over the summer, where I think she’ll get just a bit more worldly before her coming term at university.

#creme de la creme #arminia weschen #if ref #choice of games

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florianavlaicu · 3 years

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Door to Freedom, self reflection on pattern recognition

Pattern recognition sets us free- this is the gem revelation for today’s Life theme and transmission.

Free from what? One might be able to go and do anything he or she desires… but still not feeling free.

Is freedom a feeling?

I love watching the movie Eat Pray Love.

I have been watching it every now and then for the past years.

First time I watched it was in summer of 2018, in Transylvania, Sibiu. I was a volunteer for a permaculture garden. Beautiful time and place.

The movie and the place lifted me much and gave me the insight and clarity that it was time for me to prepare to go to India. After almost 4 months and my first vipassana, I took a one way ticket to the mystical land to find what I did not even know I was looking for.

Every time I watch the movie I get a new perspective.

You know that scene in Bali where she is with this naked Dj that is inviting her into a casual love affair and she is saying to him something like: I have dated you 15 years ago and I have dated you 6 months ago.

This is her recognising of a pattern choice in relationships that is not serving anymore the integrity of her heart. She has made the unconscious conscious by taking these inner and outer trips to return to her core. I think that the balance they are storytelling in the movie is the actual core stability that is explored in the Gene Keys.

Even if we all take this template journey, of Eat Pray Love, go Italy, India and Bali… it will give us totally different perceptions and revelations, because our deep subtle layers of energetics will highly influence everything, all the time and space.

I skipped the italian indulgement and went straight into the unknown of India.

It was overwhelming, exciting, revelatory, fluid, sacred… all the humanities frequencies low and high were there.

I stayed for 133 days and it gave exactly what I needed.Purpose.

I met with a frequency there that I later found out through the Gene Key why I was so fascinated by it.

This frequency was embodied by Ananda Mayi Ma, "the most perfect flower the Indian soil has produced".

I felt this sacred feminine energy twice in Goa, once in my room and once in the open sitting space of the yoga school I was working for.

It felt so familiar to me with heart feeling of surrendering to her divine will.

But both times, I let myself be distracted by something else, outside my self.

I began to study, think and feel of her… then shortly after, the Gene Keys appeared in my life and showed me that in my Hologenetic Profile I have the 58th, unlocking a deeper understanding within me related to Bliss, Joy, Service, Divine Will and Love.

If you would like to meet this Divine feminine that was and is Ananda Mayi Ma, Richard Rudd, the wisdom channel of the Gene Keys is offering us this profound poetic exploration here:

https://youtu.be/LSuihr6yUKI

So you see, even if it might have seemed to be a shallow thing to do…. to follow a movie script… I actually followed my intuition, my joy.

The same I feel about Bali… there is something there for me to meet within. And I know the currents of love will take me there eventually.

I am activating myself so much with the Gene Key, I am reading and contemplating; opening myself into awakening by the favor of Grace.

I was seeking for some higher teachings encompassing perspectives from a multidimensional level that would lead me to a deeper understanding of life, of myself.

I am actually seeking to return home. I am looking to return to my integrity and empty myself, as so much I have taken in as if it would belong to me.

Today, the 55th got me. I am free 😂

Or at least I am working on it.

I am shocked by how blind I was and still am. The many beliefs that I have that I am not aware of are contouring my reality. And then I complain and I blame.

This runs deep in my family. This runs deep in our collective.

And it feels very connected to being judgemental, thus keeping myself far aways from experiencing connection with the integrity and perfection of all of life.

Today I found out that what I was intuitively stretching so much was my fascia, feeling very constrained… showing how much I have separated myself from the whole, because of my borrowed beliefs.

I feel like a carousel of revelations, that if I am engaged in one relationship it is more than enough to illuminate my shadow patterns. I understand the need for slowing down. Where I was running, there was nothing really to see, to be able to take responsibility to bring my unconscious into the light of consciousness. I was given the perfect environment to see my shadow and light work.

And I am honest to myself now that I was not in enough energetic flow and awareness to do work for others. Although this work still is, just by personal integration and sending out a fresh energy wave out there, in there.

I saw patterns of how I am addicted to stress and hijack my own nervous system, choosing to consume things that would amplify my stress. Slowly, slowly, my choices changed and still changing. It greatly to pause and breathe deeply, especially when I am not in the mood, cause I am drifting in a mental noise.

I was wondering and asking directly to my Inner Divine Self to explain to me what actually sovereignty means. What does it mean to take responsibility for myself? How do I become self sustainable? How do I end this co- dependency loop? To whom did I give my power away? What is clouding my heart sight?

What is empowerment?

Is it enough to just See the pattern and when next time comes, choose to walk away? Be present and patient, Floriana.

I have been taking in so much of the spiritual knowledge as if all is relevant and true for me. Emptying something and filling it with something else. Should empty and just let God fill in?

Not easy to filter and keep in my life what is really nurturing me into self awakening and ascension.

I am recognising my victimhood shadow.

I am seeing the play of life and how I have projected so much on others, blaming them for my lack, for my misfortune. I am tired and rested in the same time. I have cleaned some more of the inside basement and attic.

More green blue golden inner space, that’s my wish. Make it indigo, violet, red, orange and yellow also.

All is so subtle, that slowing down is a prerequisite to self- artistry.

My Lemurian Roots surfaced some more these past few days. Like an old and new love arising within my cells. The intents are becoming purer and purer. The Spirit is awakened within me. I tell, this is the softest of the softest love I have ever felt.

In my daily morning water ritual, I am beginning to let go of any kind expectations, just being the Loving of all that is.

I wish I could be like this all day, all ever and ever.

One day, I was woken up with: “ Speak for the Water “

I have no idea where my next home will be, but I am sure it is near her body, The Healing Sacred Feminine Water. I have some ceremonies to perform.

I am embracing my Sensitivity and it feels it has a lot to do with the Receptivity of my mind, my body, my heart.

I understand that I am an expression of a certain frequency of Ecstasy. I was made of the ecstasy of the primordial water giving birth to life. But what does the Sun want from me… Everything is showing me that I was born to be THIS LOVE.

I am allowing myself to be seen without expectations.

I am practicing giving love without expectations.

I see that I am playing hide and seek with myself. I pretend to do something else when someone comes and might discover my joy, judge me for it, punish me for it. I am afraid to be myself, I hide myself and then I seek for myself… an endless loop of self- inflicted prison.

Yes, I was a child and my parents laughed and punished me for my natural expression and exploration.

Then I would learn to avoid being seen, heard, but longed to be seen, heard.

I missed and craved for their warm touch, acceptance and tenderness.

So I entered deeply into the shadows of sexual addiction.

I blamed my DNA legacy. I am a victim and I am not a victim. By reinforcing my blaming pattern, I continued to constrict the actual beauty of my DNA.

Eventually life showed me that Hey, it is ok, feel into your pain, embrace yourself, you are on your way. This is the way. Guilt is the Sun Light in disguise. Awakening is not easy, nor hard.

I completely understand people who are living in the woods and I completely understand people who are living in the cities.

If my inception as a human seed and my 9 months experience inside the motherly belly is contained in the wisdom and library of my cells, then can I make now a transfer of care, safety and beauty perception of the outside world? Incept and carry myself again? Rebirth myself as completely new human being, born with activated 3rd Eye,

Vitality, Intuition, Peace and more, knowing that all is well and life is interconnected, self- sustained, beautiful and its people are amazing pearls that I can trust and love without fear and limits?

Can I visit that belly timeline and make some energetic operations? Hmm.

In a way, self love is just this.

I will be born like this… but in the future.

This life is about a different kind of journey and it is ok, perfect just as it is.

I have been under so much stress and unease, misfitting the requirements of the world.

Can I let go of the attachment to my own storyline of being a victim of life?

Yes. No. Not yet. Yes.

Can I sing without hiding and judging myself?

Yes. No. Not yet. Yes.

Some friends said that I am changing my mind too much. Yes, I am. I must. I must return my mind to its original receptivity.

I must return to my original beingness. I must return to play. I must not make it a must. I must forget myself into mindfulness.

I find it very strange that I need to do things to survive.

I see there is a game of survival, of competition.

I am just not energising this game anymore. I have discovered a new way of living.

So, we all energise some kind of game after all?

Do we really choose, now, in this lifetime, in this Earth body or it had been decided when we sat and raised pure consciousness hands at the Divine Table of Service?

I am such a copycat sometimes.

I am so eager to guide people to live their lives in a better way, but is this really ok? Even guidance of any kind feels more like entertainment, always tricky.

I find that being the silent loving witness of someone speaking is the most genuine guidance I can offer. Me; maybe you feel different and that is cool, fine by me.

I remember the community calls from Gene Key. I was in their first Deep Dive into Genius, 4 months virtual retreat. And I wish I had joined more of these calls, but I was too distracted. I was only in the last two… profoundly beautiful to just hear, to just be with other people, to just speak, to just have others be with me.

Was the teacher indirectly showing us that there is so much guidance, so much orientation in the silence of listening just?

I did this a few nights ago, without recalling these community calls.

My friend shared some of his life experiences and within me I decided I will not judge, interfere, analyse, project or get entangled.

After his sharing, he said that he is surprised that after so much talk he does not have a headache, as he normally would. I took it as a successful listening, in which I spoke energetically with acceptance and compassion.

Yes, indeed, freedom is such a deep ancient longing. But what is freedom actually? How do we awaken to this great changing frequency?

What are the patterns that we have to become aware of so to explore this new domain?

Because slavery still is on our beloved planet, just in slight different style. I invite you to imbibe yourself in the transmission of The 55th Gene Key to find your own sense of freedom. If you are ready and resonant.

We are in a majestic, divine game.

It is not enough to know the rules of this game to create a desired outcome. Maybe it is a good idea to even surrender the outcomes.

Still, it remains a good idea to be a human being with an awakened, original and upgraded DNA. And for this

miraculous occurrence, changing one’s Aura Attitude is key to this process of returning to our sacred tune.

With openness& friendliness,

Floriana

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ziracona · 4 years

Text

The tendency in fandom to take every white girl with short hair, regardless of the status of their canonical interest or lack of interest in women and explicit interest and/or sexual history with everything but, proclaim them a lesbian queen, and then ignore or absolve them of every single horrific act they take in fiction because of this. Is not doing feminism. Women. Lesbians. Or anyone. Any favors. It’s just bad.

Somehow. Some people really do apparently need to hear that...being any specific sexuality...is not a personality trait.

And also. Women aren’t inherantly less vile than men (or anyone non-binary, agender, fluid, etc, else), and whatever bad deeds they do should be judged based on just that—on the deeds, and their context. Not their sexuality, imagined sexuality, or their gender. Becuase none of those things effect whether committing murder is bad. At all. Not even a little. And none of them. Is even a personality trait. Affecting the character’s value as a person.

It’s cool, and good, to see characters with minority identities. And it’s real nice. When it’s whatever you are. But them being whatever. Is not a personality trait. Just a fact. And sometimes. People of any type. Are not good. Pretending any minority status—gender, sexuality, race, disability, neurotype, etc—is a get out of jail free card? Is not. Doing them. Or anyone. Any favors. Personality disorder. Doesn’t make you bad. Also doesn’t make you good. Your actions do. Acting like Amy from Gone Girl did nothing wrong when she date rapes her boyfriend & then frames him for doing that to her & ruins his life, then blackmails her husband who is terrified of being murdered by her into staying with her for the sake of the child she made at a fertility clinic with his sperm without his consent, bc she’s a woman. Isn’t good. Men aren’t more deserving of violence than women. Neither is anyone else. Jane. Left an infant child in an unheated car in subzero weather in a snow storm with zombies around that easily would hear it cry and go eat it. So she could lie and say she already let zombies eat it to bait a man with easily triggerable PTSD who had just lost his family to zombies for the second time into starting a fight. Because he was injured, unarmed, weak, down an eye, and 50, while she was fit, mid 20s, healthy, and armed with a hunting knife. Because she wanted an excuse to kill him without looking bad, because she wanted the 11 year old girl she was co-parenting with him, all to herself. And her immediately responding to the dude throwing a punch by stabbing him in the stomach to escalate the fight from brawl to life or death, then losing her knife, and instead of telling him the baby was alive & she’d made it up to start a fight which could have at any point ended the fight, begging the 11 year old child to gun down her oldest surviving friend with her own hands in cold blood so that she’d get what she wanted? Is evil. As is crying on the 11 year old and using pity as a weapon to get her to stay with her if she gets mad and wants to leave when she realizes Jane staged the whole thing for an excuse to murder, and so is after realizing like a month later that she is pregnant, committing suicide, and leaving the 11 year old that she just manipulated into killing her oldest surviving friend/completely isolated on purpose so she could have her to herself, totally alone in the apocalypse to care for an infant. Jennifer’s Body? Is a fantastic film. And Jennifer didn’t deserve any of what happened to her. But not one single boy she kills during the course of that film deserved it—and explicitly so. Even the guy who could easily have been a meathead jock bully is outside alone crying becuase his best friend just died and he loved him before she decides to lure him off and eat him alive. And acting like it’s totally fine & Needy should have just let her keep eating boys instead of killing her? Is fucked up. None of them deserved to die. And no one deserves death innately more because they are or are not something that is just a factual designator of their makeup as a human. The exchange student was scared and alone and nice, the catholic kid was sweet and Needy’s friend, Chip is a bad boyfriend but he meant well and being stupid doesn’t mean you deserve to die. And this girl ate them alive. That’s not funny. Or cool. Or fine becuase they were dudes. Gertrude Robinson? Chose again and again to betray people who loved her, or trusted her—sold out victims of awful trauma to their worst nightmares. Killed friends in the worst possible ways, like it was nothing. Michael loved her, and trusted her, and tried to care for her, and she without faltering fed him to his worst nightmare and forced him to become it. There is nothing excusable about that action.

Jude Perry? Has 0 redeeming features. Didn’t even stay faithful to her poor gf & was creepy obsessed w Agnes. Literally murdered her co-worker friend just because he was happy, and she wanted to destroy things: that’s it. She didn’t even dislike him. Murdered him because he had a wife and kid and house and it seemed fun, then burned down his house, took his wife’s money, and now checks in on his kid every so often in case he ever recovers from the trauma she inflicted enough to be fun to kill. There is literally nothing good about this woman. Yes. I mean that. Because being a lesbian? Is just a thing. There is no g/b tag, there is no tag at all. Amanda Young? Got kidnapped and tortured and forced to choose between killing a man who couldn’t resist but was conscious to watch her, and letting herself die, and she killed him. Then, instead of responding to that trauma with guilt or responsibility or anger at her captor, joined up with him and started helping him kidnap people just like her. She was not forced, she was not lied to. It does not matter if John was manipulative; she is a grown ass woman and like all grown ass adults, responsible for her own actions and choices. She did not get manipulated pitifully into this—she did not go unwillingly. She volunteered, with a happy vengeance, became obsessed with John and in love with him, despite his complete lack of interest. And she did not even just do what he did. She decided on her own that no one deserved redemption, & she killed them for fun in traps that wouldn’t let them go even if they did whatever awful thing the trap demanded as a price for life, just for the fun and power trip of watching them die helpless & in agony. That was all her, & her alone. She sat in a house full of people slowly dying from organ decomposition over the course of a few hours, for no crime worse than drug addiction—the thing she of all people should have been most sympathetic to—knowing full well at any time she could have saved them and stopped the game, and did nothing. She held a woman in her arms and stroked her head lovingly while she let her die in one of the most inhumane ways possible for the crime of having not been able to break an addition. She got saved by a 16 year old child multiple times, who had done nothing more than shoplift, and stood by while he had to watch a man get his brains blown out, another burn to death in an oven. As his organs slowly dissolved too. Watched the kid kill another human being & massively traumatize himself to save her life. And responded to that by attacking & knocking him out, tying him up, locking him up for days in a tiny safe bound and gagged with an oxygen supply to keep him alive, to be a piece in another game. Left his father, who had shown up to try & save him, to starve to death in chains in a horrible abandoned rotting room, & never even told him his son was alive. Let every other addict die horribly, let that kid sustain permanent damage to his organs that will kill him young, antidote taken or not, took his dad from him, & went back to torturing without a second thought. Kidnapped a woman whose worst crime was being a doctor & dating someone while maybe separated instead of divorced from her husband, put her in a trap that would take her head off with shotgun blasts, threatened her for fun, & then killed her even after she did everything she was asked, because it was more important to her that the old man she was obsessed with think she was special and great, than for the other woman to get to stay alive another day & go home to her daughter. There is nothing sympathetic about Amanda. She’s just not only evil, but too spineless to take responsibility for her own choices & actions, & tries to hide behind a “UwU I am sad & lonely & damaged & having trauma means I can literally torture people to death to feel special & it’s really tragic and sympathetic about me, not evil. Uhm. Some people??? Commit torture-murders?? To cope??” And acting like she’s somehow a victim in this becuase she is a pretty white girl with short hair? Is fucked. Up.

But every. God damn. Time. I see this. Please. It needs. To stop. People go: “UwU pretty girl short hair want” & I go “Ok. I see where u. Come from. Indeed.” But then. They go. “Girl pretty I like. So she was blameless. For this atrocity.” Those words...

Every day. I wake up. Thinking of Janic saying. Iconically. “At least me and Regina George know we’re mean,” and I weep inside. Because I cannot fathom. Or stomach. The lack of responsibility. I will kill. Characters who cannot admit they are bad. Myself. But somehow. They become. Flames. To moths. Of the “UwU pretty white girl short hair. We stan. Victim. Queen. Love her. Never done wrong.” Boy. We all done wrong. Even all my faves. At least once. I think. ...not if we count dogs probably, but people, yes. Ok. Anyway. All this is to say. Characters. Should be judged. Based on what they did. And why. And the aftermath. Not a grouping tag. I don’t mean any of these. Make bad characters. At all. Amy is a great character. So is Jennifer. So are most of them. I have quite affection even. For Jeneffer specifically. But you can like. Character. Without proclaiming. Them perfect humans. Who never did a thing wrong. Or their acts somehow. Justifiable. And ok. And you better stop saying. Ok. Because done. To men. Men do not. Deserve violence. Any more. Than anyone else. No one deserves violence defacto for factors. Outside their control. Wtf. Really people. It’s ok too. For character. To do much bad stuff. And still like character. Villains. And often just complex characters. Sometimes just characters. Do stuff. That is bad. It’s not supposed to be not their fault. Or ok. Also. Women are not a sisterhood. Of flawless beings. Who never hurt anyone or do any bad stuff. They can. And are. Often purpotrators. Of awful acts. And when they are. It is still. Very bad. Still. An awful act. Same level. Even. Of awful. Wild.

In conclusion.

Having short hair. While a girl. Doesn’t make her a butch queen. Who is absolved of all responsibility for that murder she committed. It just makes her a girl with short hair. That did a murder. I’m gonna. Kill someone. Too. And if I chop my hair off. I guess I can get away with it.

#personal #*dances wildly to abba music while delivering speech*#some of you all apparently really need a girl to come fuck up your life bc the lengths to which some of y’all so devotedly seem to believe #women are less evil is astronomical. and let me tell you. from personal experience? a girl can ruin your life. just as easily. and with as #little pity. guilt. remorse. or afterthought. as a man. and it aint any more ok. & you know what? so can a fluid person. or a nonbinary #person. legit anyone. can be bad. or good. and do bad. or good. theyre not defacto worse for coming from X starting point. and theyre also.#OuO not. better.#not everyone who likes or is sympathetic to these specific characters even be like that either like u know what? its possible to both be #sypathetic to a character & not excuse & atand their actions. I like & feel bad for Jennifer. a lot. one of my bros in college loved Jane #from twdg. Not bc she thought it was totally fine she’d been super evil though. its *dances* not that hard actually #also nothin against lovin evil lady characters or evil characters in general. just me or anyone else loving them does nothing to make their #evil deeds suddely ok or vanish into the mist #people have some real trouble w nuance huh. folks like a character & assume that means stanning everything theyve ever done. hate a charactr #and suddenly forget how to factor any outside factors into their view of said person’s actions. its a wild bad ride yo #like i get it. im a girl & ive had plenty of men ruin my life i truly get it. but is there anything truly more detrimental to feminism & to #just treating people decent in general than the WomenDoNoWrong mindset & apologism thrown up like its actually a decent counter t patriarchy #? probably actually yeah im sure there are worse. but its still REALLY not good!! feminism is just a stance that all people deserve equal #treatment & an investment in pursuing that reality. if youre excusing people of horrible actions bc girl & treating violence against non-#women as fine youre not a feminist u actually just suck generally as a person #i also lose my mind how half the characters i see get this treatment aint even lesbians & often explicitly like men yet get both assigned #that & treated like that sexuality is a hall pass for human rights violations. im dyin #this entire thought rant was prompted by reading a post earlier today about bi-phobia & gettin mad about how bi people get treated idk how #spagheti brain exactly went there to here so /fast/ but anyway. same brand of problematic. & i am v tired :] of this :] specifically :]#every time i see that post abt women killers in horror i am like ‘OP hiw are your points so good but all your examples so /terrible/.’ rip #i guess this is just life. and i feel excessively better after screaming jnto the void of my blog #also i get it gertrude robinson wanted to stop the apocalypse but fuck gertrude robinson she has no excuse. nothing could justify what she #did to people who loved her. and shes a well written and layered character whonisnt like just pure evil but she is VERY bad and i WILL kill #her (again) myself if given the chance & i have every right to.#spoilers #again. great charcters. amanda an iconic saw villain. gertrude fascinating. etc. but also. they be doing mad evil deeds & tis not ok

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strcwberryfields · 3 years

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❤ - sam and isla

once again i have popped off

1. Swirling clouds of smoke twisted around their heads as they shared a joint on the beach, the water touching their toes as it lapped onto the shore where they sat. Sam wanted to lie down and close his eyes, maybe fall asleep, maybe just rest. Either way, he wanted to do it wrapped up in Isla. With the joint hanging from his lips he reached for her arm and tugged her closer, and she giggled, following him in suit to lie down in the sand with her head on his chest. Once they were lying, Sam took another long hit before putting the joint in front of Isla's lips for her to take it. He closed his eyes, and thought he might really fall asleep when—

"Hey!" he yelped, laughing as he felt Isla's fingers tickling his sides. "What d'you think you're doing?" he said as he swiftly moved so he was on top of her, pinning her hands lightly against the sand. "I was totally havin' a moment there," Sam chuckled, a smirk coming to his face.

"When I see the opportunity for a sneak attack, I take it," she teased, and Sam reveled in the way she looked at him.

"Pain in my ass, you are," Sam tutted, taking the joint and relighting it. Inhaling the smoke he leaned down to her face, bringing one of his hands to part her lips with his thumb to blow the smoke into her mouth.

"Oh please, you love me," she countered. And instead of answering he kissed her, and wondered why he ever wanted to sleep in the first place.

—

2. "Dunno why she's putting on a whole get up for little old me," Sam chuckled, sipping a tea at Eleanor and Isla's kitchen table.

"You're going out to dinner, she wants to look nice!" Eleanor defended, then turned around from the stove with a smirk. "You're looking pretty sharp yourself."

"Don't I always?"

"God you've got the fattest head in the world," she snorted, turning back to what she was cooking and Sam laughed quietly. "You two have any other romantic plans for the evening after dinner?" she asked, and Sam wanted to laugh again over the fact that Eleanor didn't turn around to face him.

"Aye, so romantic, I was plannin' on proposing after we eat," Sam replied, rolling his eyes. Between her and Scott the teasing seemed endless despite his and Isla's insistence that they weren't anything more than friends. Sam spent a lot of time these days reminding himself of that, too. Not that he'd ever say as much out loud.

"All I'm saying is I don't know how many more dates you two can go on before—“

"Eleanor please stop harassing Sam!" Isla called from her bedroom, rushing out into the kitchen. Sam's breath caught in his throat and he nearly choked on his tea over how stunning she looked. "Five more minutes, I promise. I'm sorry, this bride I'm working with has been a little nightmarish and--oh, I'll tell you all about her at dinner," she rushed, scurrying back into her room.

"For the record, I will never stop harassing Sam," Eleanor called back with a chuckle as Isla disappeared again. She turned to Sam and noticed his expression, and she tried to bite back the smug grin on her face that Sam clocked immediately. "She looks fantastic doesn't she?" Eleanor muttered, crossing her arms over her chest.

"Aye, she always does," Sam said with a laugh that he hoped came across more relaxed than he felt.

"You're so in love with her," Eleanor said casually, studying his face for a moment before turning back around again to the stove to giggle.

"What time is me brother supposed to come around again?" Sam chuckled, though his heart rate quickened and he wanted to throw up over the thought of being discovered.

—

3. Why did I ever stop drinking? Sam thought to himself as he and Isla clumsily entered his house. She hung off of his shoulder, drunken and needy, her hands wandering over his body—one she knew well by now. He smacked his hand around the wall to find light switch, though the feeling of Isla's lips on his neck was distracting, and he could hardly see straight anyway. He pulled her to the best of his abilities over to the couch and they flopped over the back of it and onto the cushions where he slid over her, his hands pushing her dress lazily up her torso. Sam's head spun with its usual tornado of thoughts, now clouded in an old and familiar way. Euphoria and despair played their ever-present game of tug of war as Isla kissed him. Only it was easier to ignore when whiskey replaced the blood in his veins. It always made everything easier, he decided. A decision he usually made after he was halfway to the bottom of a bottle. He never meant for her to see him like this. He’d been trying to stay away from her until he sorted himself out. But he couldn’t stay away, he was selfish and the only time he felt half okay was when he was with her. Sam never meant for any of this to happen with her. Blaring like a siren in his mind above the guilt and the sadness, and the pain there was always herherher.

Once they finished Sam all but crawled to his room to take another swig from the bottle of whiskey he'd bought that morning, and came back out in his drunken stupor to scoop Isla up into his arms and bring her to his bed. If he weren't so careful about the way he drank, he would've said something he shouldn't after hearing the beautiful sound of her laugh when he picked her up. "God I'm so fucking drunk," she giggled, settling into his bed and reaching out for him. "Why're you looking at me like that, loverboy?"

"Like what?" Sam slurred, his head lolling to look at the ceiling instead.

"Like you're totally in love with me," she mumbled, still giggling and turning her face into his chest.

"Very funny, bug," he replied quietly, and at once felt like he'd sobered up.

—

4. Surely the only way to rid himself of whatever was going on with his feelings towards Isla was to bring someone else home, right? It was only fair considering Isla was busy, doing whatever or whoever, he guessed. And he didn’t really care, because they were friends. Any motivation to ask out the new dancer who’d started at the resort a weeks ago was purely because he wanted to. She was pretty and he’d spoken with her a few times and she’d be a perfect person to lose himself with for at least a night. He didn’t think at all about the idea that he would go over to Scott’s tomorrow and talk loudly about the affair in front of Eleanor because he knew she would tell Isla about it. While he had this woman in his bed, feeling her hands all over him, he tried so hard to stop thinking. But all he could see when he closed his eyes was Isla’s face, and he wished that it was her who was beneath him instead. Sam stopped suddenly and let out a frustrated sigh.

“What’s wrong?” She asked. Sam missed when he was drunk and didn’t care about the disappointment in a woman’s voice when he inevitably let her down. “You have a girlfriend, I knew it, I’ve seen you with her before—“

“Oi! No, no. I don’t have a girlfriend, she’s not my girlfriend,” Sam rushed. He knew who she was talking about without her having to say it.

“Oh…I just thought, well I’d heard some things about you and her,” she said, and Sam visibly cringed a little. It was bad enough that he wanted to wipe away his feelings for Isla, and the thought of them being obvious even to relative strangers made him feel sick. And he wished that gossip didn’t travel like wildfire as it tended to do at work. “So you’re not together?”

“No.” Sam didn’t want to elaborate, didn’t want to talk about Isla anymore. He moved to kiss her, and after a few minutes she gently pushed him away again.

“I can tell when I’m hooking up with a guy who loves someone else,” she said, and the words felt like a buckle to his back.

—

5. “Ha! You’re jealous,” Scott said, and Sam’s gloved right hand collided with the pad Scott was wearing on his left hand.

“How does that make me jealous? I know the guy, he’s a dickhead,” Sam countered and whacked the pads in a combination.

“Been sayin’ a lot of her dates are dickheads lately.” Sam was very close to purposefully missing a pad in favor of his hand knocking the smug grin right off of his brother’s face.

“Because they are fuckin’ dickheads,” he grumbled, and Scott chuckled as Sam threw a few more frustrated punches. He felt like an idiot, and he knew Scott was right. But he couldn’t give him the satisfaction of confirming that to him. Scott had hardly given any to him when he was on the receiving end of the teasing. On top of the fact that Sam was doing his very best to get rid of any feelings of jealousy or affection or whatever it was for Isla.

“Facts are you’re in love with her laddie,” Scott teased, and Sam rolled his eyes, removed his gloves and tossed one right at his brother’s head.

“Facts are I’m gonna kick your ass laddie,” he retorted, cracking a smile as Scott dissolved into laughter.

—

+1. “—aye that sunrise is still feckin' crazy," Maeve interrupted herself, speaking through Sam's computer screen. He'd faced the webcam to position the rising sun over the ocean, since he knew how much his mother loved it. Sam let out an affectionate laugh at her outburst and waited for her to continue her thought. "I'm really losing me 'ead in me old age aren't I?"

"Ya don't look a day over twenty-nine, Ma," Sam said with a wry grin.

"Aye, shut yar gob. Anyway, when are you getting Isla on the video to meet me?"

"I've actually got a better idea," he began, "I was thinkin' we take a trip to Donegal sometime soon. I think she'd like that."

Maeve let out a small yelp in surprise and Sam heard his Aunt Colleen call what's the matter?! from another room in the house. "Sammy's going to visit soon!" she called, leaning just slightly off camera before turning her attention back to Sam. The expression on her face made him want to start crying. "You know how much I miss ya, how much everyone 'ere misses ya. And how much I'm reelin' to finally meet this girl," she said, cocking an eyebrow, and Sam ducked his head bashfully. There were plenty of things he hadn't yet disclosed to his mother for a multitude of reasons--like his relapse and the complicated details of his and Isla's relationship—but he'd mentioned Isla's name to Maeve months ago when he foolishly thought she would only ever be a good friend. And every so often during their calls Maeve would ask about her with a smug lilt to her voice that Sam recognized well. And like everyone else, she of course knew long before he did that he cared for Isla much more than he wanted to let on. Which of course, was all absurd now in the present day.

"I want you and the lot to meet her too," Sam agreed. "And in person. Not over this shitey webcam."

"You really love her, aye?" Maeve's smile was as fond as Sam had ever seen it.

"I do," he replied, laughing again at the excited smile on his mother's face.

#otp: i used to burst and decay #★ ask memes ★#waves1x1

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argylemnwrites · 4 years

Text

It Couldn’t Wait Another Moment - Chapter 21

Pairing: Drake Walker x MC (Riley Liu)

Book: The Royal Romance (Canon Divergent from Book 2, Chapter 15)

Word Count: ~4600

Rating: R (language)

Summary: Riley and Drake settle in for the next chapter of their lives.

Author’s Note: Wow. Just the epilogue is left. I can’t believe this story is basically complete.

This series diverges from TRR canon, where instead of waiting to discuss his relationship with Riley until their last night in NYC, leaving her a note while Liam is proposing to her, Drake tackles this topic as soon as possible after Tariq makes his statement and Riley’s name is cleared. To catch up on this series, you can find the previous chapters in my masterlist (link is located in my bio).

Drake heard the locks on the apartment door clicking open and the squeak of the hinges, pulling him awake. He had no idea what time it was. With the time zone changes and his numerous flights over the past couple of days, any traces of an internal clock were blown to hell completely.

He heard Riley, clearly trying to move through the small space quietly. He figured it couldn’t be too late, otherwise she probably wouldn’t be making that much of an effort to stay relatively silent. Of course, given the number of times he’d woken up last night, his body clearly having no idea what time of day it was, maybe she was just being nice and letting him sleep in. He was contemplating keeping his eyes closed and seeing if he could fall back asleep, but when she turned on the faucet, any possibility of him drifting off again went out the window.

“What time is it?” he asked, clearing his throat and cracking his eyes open. Riley was in the little kitchen area of her apartment, in front of the coffee maker which Drake heard gurgling to life. She was still in her glasses and her hair was thrown into a messy sort of braid over her shoulder. She was wearing a blue t-shirt with a red “ny” printed across the front, but oddly enough, was wiggling out of the jeans she was wearing. She glanced up at his question, giving him a warm smile.

“A little before 10,” she said as she continued to peel off her pants.

Alright, well he’d slept in a lot, but at least it was still morning. Maybe he’d be able to correct his sleep schedule in the next night or two. He stretched slightly and sat up in bed. “Not that I mind,” he said as he let out a yawn, “but why are you getting undressed?”

She laughed, stepping out of her jeans and turning to the radiator that was on the side wall, crouching down and turning it on. “It’s brick out today, so I’m gonna have to turn on the heat, but this radiator has two settings, off and insanely boiling. ”

“So your radiator works… too well?”

“Yeah, living here in the winter means a very minimalistic dress code. And don’t ever put anything on it to dry or you’ll definitely burn down the building.”

“Noted. Where’d you go this morning?”

She grabbed a little white bag off the counter and flopped back down on the bed, handing it to him as she propped her pillows up against the wall and settled in. “Grabbing breakfast,” she finally replied, nodding at the bag she’d handed to him.

“I would have made us breakfast. You could have woken me up if you were hungry.”

Riley smiled, but she shook her head slightly before she dropped it to his shoulder, “I want you to be happy here.”

Her statement caught Drake off guard. “I don’t mind cooking, Liu.”

“And while I intend to keep reaping the benefits of that fact, I want you to actually experience some of the fun things about New York.”

“And that means… bagels?” Drake asked as he peeked inside the bag.

“New York City bagels are special. Nowhere else in the world gets them right.”

“Yeah, okay.”

“I’m serious, Drake! Bagels in Cordonia are just not the same.”

“I’ll keep an open mind,” he said with an eye roll. “What kind did you get?”

“Sesame and everything,” she replied. Drake held the bag open for her to pick first, but she shook her head. “I like them both; you should pick.”

“What about ladies first?”

“Well, good thing I not a fucking lady,” she said raising an eyebrow. Drake just laughed and pulled out the sesame bagel before he passed the bag to Riley. She watched him expectantly as he took a bite. It was a damn good bagel, but he didn’t know if it was as life-changing as she made it out to be.

“So?” she asked once he swallowed down his first bite.

“It’s good, Liu.”

“Just good?”

“I don’t know what you want me to say. It’s a good bagel.”

“Whatever, you just don’t get it,” she said, shaking her head and pulling the other bagel out of the bag. Drake smiled before he took another bite.

“Eating these in bed was a terrible idea,” he said as he watched crumbs and sesame seeds tumble onto the sheets.

Riley shrugged, “We’ll just do laundry later. I have to go through and clean some stuff out of the closet and dresser anyway.”

“Why?”

“So you can finally get some space for your stuff and stop living out of a suitcase.”

Drake turned his head to look at her fully. She was happily enjoying her bagel, checking something on her phone with her other hand. After a few seconds, she glanced up to look at him. “What?” she asked between bites of her bagel.

“Thank you, Riley.”

“You’re welcome, Drake.”

He leaned forward, dropping a quick kiss on her lips before he climbed out of bed, sliding on his boxers and heading over to the coffee maker, figuring the pot must be ready at this point. He poured two mugs of coffee and added cream to Riley’s before he came back to bed, handing her mug to her before he slid back under the sheets. Riley shifted slightly as he settled in, draping her legs over his knees.

“So, I wanted to get your opinion on something,” he said after he took a sip of his coffee.

“What is it?”

“When I was in Texas, my mom invited me to come down for Christmas. Or rather, she invited us, I guess.”

“Okay…”

“Well, what do you think about that?”

Riley took a second before she answered, “I think what I think doesn’t matter as much as what you think.”

She was right, of course. It wasn’t fair to put this decision on her. Drake was just really torn. He got the sense that his mom was trying to reach out with the invite. But at the same time, it felt like doing this all at the holidays was just a way to pretend things were totally normal. Like they were some happy, perfect family who got together at Christmas and drank eggnog and sang carols. And Drake just wasn’t at that point yet, he didn’t think.

“I think… I think I’m not ready to do a big family holiday with her again. Not this year. Not so soon.”

Riley nodded slowly, “Okay,” she said, “We can do Christmas here. Just you and me. New York is a pretty fun city around the holidays, even if the tourists are a bit much on New Year’s Eve.”

“Sounds good, Liu. I do want to take a trip back to Texas at some point, though. With you, I mean.”

She gave him a little smile, “I think that can probably be arranged.”

Drake ran his free hand over her legs as he brought his coffee back towards his lips, but before he could take another sip, Riley spoke.

“I have to tell you something, too.”

“Okay,” Drake replied, pausing and glancing at her. The statement sounded like it was something bad, but she only looked slightly nervous, and she was still drinking her coffee. He knew how she got when she had something to talk about that made her truly uncomfortable or upset, and it certainly wasn’t like this. So whatever she wanted to talk about, it must not be a massive deal.

“You know how we flew out to Cordonia and got that hotel for Constantine’s funeral?”

Drake held his coffee out in front of him as he carefully shifted slightly to face her a little better, “Yeah, Liu. I was there.”

She kicked her heel back lightly against his knee and rolled her eyes, “Anyway, I didn’t exactly pay for either or those things.”

Drake was sure he looked almost comically confused. He felt his brow furrowing as he shook his head slightly. “Then how-”

“Olivia paid for them.”

“Huh.”

“And I know you don’t like accepting favors from her, but I couldn’t see maxing out my credit cards when she was offering, you know?”

Drake nodded slowly, “So, you’re telling me that the hotel that we had for four nights, but only used for one, and the plane tickets that I only used one way - Olivia was the one who ate that cost?”

Riley smirked a little and dipped her head, “I didn’t know it was going to pan out that way.”

Drake just threw his head back and laughed, “This is great! Here I was feeling guilty that I wasted a bunch of your money, but instead I wasted hers.”

“Drake!”

“Oh, come on. You’ve been in her wine cellar, Liu. She’s not even gonna notice the difference.”

Riley shook her head, but she was smiling, so Drake figured she wasn’t too upset with his glee that Olivia had been the one to finance the travel plans that had ended up going completely sideways. “So, I take it you aren’t mad?”

“Not even slightly,” said Drake, sliding his hand down to her calf and squeezing it gently in reassurance. As they both continued to enjoy their coffee, they just talked, not about the serious, or the stressful, or the emotional. After last night, they’d both had enough of that for the moment. Instead, they talked about the mundane, the stupid, the silly, the bland, getting each other caught up on their days apart.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It had been just about a month since Drake last set foot in George’s diner. He cringed, thinking back on how he’d left things back then. How he’d been a sullen ass, consumed with guilt, angry at himself and the world. He hoped George didn’t fully remember the person he’d been, the way he’d behaved.

He pushed open the door and entered, walking up to the counter. George was over serving an older man at the far end of the counter, but nodded at Drake in greeting, his eyebrows climbing his forehead just slightly. As soon as he’d taken care of the other customer, he strolled over to the register, reaching out to shake Drake’s hand.

“It’s been awhile, son. How are you?”

Drake paused for a moment before answering, “Better.”

George nodded at him slowly, wiping his hands on his apron. “Glad to hear it. You still looking for work?”

Drake shook his head, “No… well, not exactly. I signed with a temp agency last week. I started a few days ago with an insurance company, doing some data entry for the next couple of weeks.”

“Nothing wrong with that, son.”

Drake nodded. “I know” he said, “a paycheck’s a paycheck.”

He knew that most people wouldn’t view working as a temp at his age as a great thing, but Drake had been relieved after his first meeting at the agency. When Riley and him had talked about what he might want to do for a job, she’d suggested checking out temp work when he expressed frustration that he didn’t really know what he wanted as a career. It felt like something he should have a better idea of at this point in his life, but Riley had seemed utterly unphased by it. She’d mentioned temp agencies as a way to gain some actual work experience and make some money while he figured things out. Interviewing with the agency had been much lower stress than any of the other interviews he’d gone on last time, probably because, as Riley had told him, the agency wanted as many potential employees as possible since they got paid when their clients found work.

“I assume you’re here for some food and not just to chat.”

Drake chuckled, “I am. I actually called in a carry out order for Walker.”

So Drake paid up, chatting with George about Sam and the baby and how things were in his life as he got the order all bagged up. He waved goodbye and headed back to the subway, making his way back to the apartment.

He was getting better at navigating the city, or at least navigating Manhattan. Riley was right, the whole thing was a giant grid, so that much made sense. And he could appreciate that people here were blunt and direct. It was a nice contrast to the social games and doublespeak of court.

He didn’t know that New York felt like home at this point, but being here this time didn’t feel anywhere near as overwhelming as it did the first time. Part of it, he figured, was because he knew what he was getting into now. He also appreciated how much of an effort Riley was making to help him find aspects of New York he’d like. Every Monday night, when Riley was off, they’d gone out to some restaurant and bar. Riley assured him she was picking out places that she thought he’d like when he’d balked at some of types of cuisine she’d suggested, and she’d been right every time thus far. Besides, she’d told him there was little point living somewhere with every type of cuisine on the planet if he didn’t at least try some of them.

Their weekends had been a bit more variable, based on whether or not Riley was working. But this weekend she was off, and tonight was going to be a lazy night in. He knew Riley wasn’t really the type who liked to spend a Friday night lounging around in pajamas, but he appreciated that she understood him well enough to not push him to go out every night they could. Besides, tomorrow they were going to check out one of the city’s Christmas markets, something they were both actually looking forward to, it turns out.

The amount he and Riley were actually planning things was a little bit weird, considering she always talked about how impulsive she was and he knew he didn’t put much thought into the future or whatnot. But Drake realized that their combined efforts to not just roll along, with Riley getting up to eat breakfast with him a couple of mornings a week, with him going out for happy hour with a couple of his coworkers at the insurance company where he was posted, with both of them stepping out of their comfort zones just a little bit when it came to date nights, actually was making things a lot better. For him, at least. He hoped Riley felt the same way. He was pretty sure she did.

Drake exited the subway at the stop by the apartment and walked the couple of blocks quickly. It was December now, and the temperatures had really plummeted. Riley consistently referred to cold days as “brick,” which he’d found odd, but Luke at the office did the same thing, so he figured maybe it was a New York thing. He checked the mail and then climbed the stairs up to the fourth floor. He went to unlock the door, but paused for a moment. It almost sounded like the power drill he could hear running was coming from her unit.

He unlocked and opened the door, taking in what was going on. The first thing he noticed was, as always, the sweltering heat. Riley hadn’t been kidding when she told him the radiator ran very hot. He’d taken a peek at it to see if there was some obvious fix, but he was nervous to mess with too much, because Riley warned him the landlord would definitely assess them damages if it stopped working all together. Besides, he didn’t really mind the fact that both of them ended up wearing very little around the apartment these days.

The next thing that caught his attention, though, was Riley. She was indeed using a drill. It was a strange sight, watching her stand over by the window, dressed only in some gym shorts and a little tank top, attaching the legs to a chair. Drake wasn’t sure if he was more turned on or confused.

As soon as the whir of the drill stopped, Drake called out to her, “Liu, what the hell-” but she shrieked in surprise, letting the drill drop to the ground.

“Drake, you scared the shit out of me,” she chastised as she reached down to pick up the drill. Anderson abandoned his post on the armchair, trotting over to greet Drake.

“Sorry,” Drake said, crouching down to give the dog a couple of scritches, “Does he need to go out?”

“Nah, I took him out maybe an hour ago,” she replied, before she turned back to her project and turned on the drill again. Now that he knew he didn’t immediately need to go back outside, Drake started stripping off his clothing, getting down to his t-shirt and boxers and placing their dinner on the counter before he went and sat on Riley’s side of the bed, watching her work.

“As I was saying,” he continued the next time the drill stopped, “what the hell are you doing?”

Riley looked at him like he was stupid. “I’m putting together a table and chairs.”

“I see that.”

“Then why’d you ask?”

“Where’s your desk?”

“I sold it online,” she replied before moving to turn the drill back on, but Drake reached out and grabbed her wrist, stopping her in her tracks.

“You gotta give me more than that, Liu.”

“The desk worked fine when it was just me, but you sitting on the side of the bed and me sitting at the desk to eat was not sustainable. So, I decided enough was enough. Uskea was running a promotion, so I bought us a table.”

“Riley…”

“Now, I picked a really small one, but does stick out a bit more than the desk did, so it’ll be a bit of a tight fit when you pull the chair back, but-”

Drake stood, grabbing her shoulders and kissing her roughly. After a few seconds, he pulled back, glancing down at the table and chair set she’d selected. A table and chairs that were meant for the two of them. It was such a tangible representation of a future with them together.

“I take it you like it?” she asked. He looked up and saw her smirking at him.

“Yeah, Liu. I do.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Riley felt some faint butterflies in her stomach as she entered the restaurant, scanning the waiting area to see if he had arrived already, but she couldn’t find him anywhere. She checked the time on her phone. For once in her life, she was early. She could probably chalk that up to nerves.

Liam was in New York. He had let Drake know that he would be in town for three nights surrounding the UN Holiday Gala about a week ago, and had asked if the two of them would like to join him for dinner one night. The thought of hanging out with her live-in boyfriend and his best friend who happened to be her sort-of ex was a bit on the weird side already, but Drake had texted her this afternoon that his boss was making everyone stay late for some “bullshit,” so he would be coming straight from work and would probably be a bit late for the reservation. It meant that it would be just her and Liam, at least to start the night.

Deciding that a drink might help take the edge off a little bit, Riley made her way over to the bar and ordered herself a whiskey sour. She was taking her first sip when she saw a couple of men in crisp black suits enter and station themselves near the door. Sure enough, Liam was a few seconds behind them. Riley raised her hand, signaling her location. After a couple of seconds, Liam made eye contact and gave her a warm smile before he made his way over to join her at the bar.

She stood up from her stool, giving him a loose hug in greeting when he reached her. “Hey, Liam.”

“Hello, Riley. It’s good to see you.”

“You too. I was just grabbing a drink since we’ve got a little time before our reservation. Would you like one?”

“That sounds like an excellent idea,” he said, before sitting down on the stool next to the one she’d been using. He flagged down the bartender and ordered himself an Old Fashioned.

“I’ve never seen you drink one of those before,” said Riley as she climbed back onto her stool, mainly trying to find some innocent topic of conversation to carry them through until Drake arrived. Not that Drake’s arrival was going to lessen the dredges of awkwardness, but at least there would be three people to fumble through conversation instead of just two, so there would probably be fewer moments of uncomfortable silence.

“Yes, well… I’ve been having them on occasion since my father passed. They were his drink of choice, you see.”

“Oh,” Riley replied, taking a sip of her own drink. So much for an innocent topic of conversation. “Do you find them… therapeutic?”

Liam tilted his head to the side slightly, “I guess they’re a safe way to remember him.”

“That makes sense.”

The bartender returned with his drink at that point. Liam accepted it with a smile and nod, taking a sip of it before he continued.

“I know my father wasn’t a saint, and in some ways I’ve come to terms with the man he was. The choices he made, both as a father and a king, that I cannot stand behind were a part of him, but they weren’t all of him. But sometimes I just want to think about him as the man I loved, the man I looked up to, without worrying about the harsher realities. Drinking something that always made him smile is an easy way to do that.”

“Well, I get that,” said Riley, taking a sip of her own drink.

“Is there something you do like that to reminisce about your mother?”

“Oh sure, I just shoot up a little heroin,” she quipped, taking another sip of her drink.

Liam didn’t say anything, so Riley turned her head and looked at him fully. He was staring at her, his drink clutched tightly in his hand. “I’m fairly certain you’re joking, but I don’t want to say anything insensitive.”

Riley laughed at that, “Of course I’m joking, Liam.”

He let out a sigh before he smiled and gave a little chuckle, “I just wanted to make sure. You see, it’s come to my attention that I may not have gotten to fully understand your sense of humor.”

She frowned at that, “What are you talking about?”

Liam gave her a little shrug, “Drake and I often seemed to have somewhat different perceptions of you, your attitudes, your opinions, that sort of thing. Given everything that transpired, I think it’s safe to say that Drake’s understanding of you is significantly more accurate than mine.”

Riley winced at that. He said it all so matter-of-factly, but it was so fricking uncomfortable to remember that time and how she treated him. “Liam, I’m so sorry.”

“I’m not looking for an apology. I’m just looking to actually get to know you. The real you, not the version of yourself you felt the need to present to me before.”

Riley didn’t exactly know how to respond to that. Everything he’d said was painfully true. She’d been intimidated by him initially. She’d been so careful to not swear, to not be too sarcastic or judgemental in front of him. He was royalty, and she was a brash, potty-mouthed waitress. It’s part of the reason she’d started spending more and more time with Drake, even when he was still a rude asshole to her. She’d never had to pretend around him.

Even as time went on, she never felt comfortable enough around Liam to fully drop the act. I mean, he got flustered if she flirted overtly, he never teased her, always just finding little ways to agree with her when she teased him, and he pursued her like he was some cheesy romance novel character. It had always just felt like she had to keep playing a part with him. She just didn’t know how to tell him that without hurting him more than she undoubtedly already had. It wasn’t that his way of doing things was bad; it just was never right for her.

Liam shook his head at her prolonged silence. “Riley, I can understand why you felt the need to censor yourself around me. I had hoped I had made you comfortable enough to be your genuine self with me, but that obviously wasn’t the case. But at this point, I really just want to get to know the woman who’s dating my best friend, okay? If you’re going to be in his life, I want us to have an authentic friendship of our own.”

“I don’t know where to start.”

“How about cursing?”

“What?”

“Drake tells me you have a rather colorful vocabulary. Well, I’d like to hear it.”

“I don’t know, Liam….”

“Trust me, Riley. I’m friends with Drake. I don’t think there is anything you could say that would scandalize me.”

She let out a rough breath and closed her eyes, not sure if his idea was mad brilliant or mad stupid, “Liam, do you really fucking think that hearing me call some of the fucking bitches at court annoying, petty motherfucking assholes with no goddamn common sense is going to help you get to know me? Because it feels like it might be a bunch of bullshit.”

She opened her eyes slowly, but Liam was just giving her a gentle smile. “Good. I think that’s a start at least.”

Riley smiled back at him, “Okay then. You asked for it. You get all the fucking profanities from here on out. Just remember, it was all your idea.”

He laughed at that, “No need to worry. I’ll remember.”

Riley was about to suggest going up to see if their table was ready, but she saw Drake dart through the door, scanning the waiting area, clearly looking for one or both of them, and then approaching the hostess stand when he couldn’t find them.

“Ah, shall we go join him?” asked Liam as he followed her gaze.

“Yeah, sounds good,” said Riley, hopping off her stool and falling into step beside Liam as they walked over. As they approached the entrance, she caught the tail end of what the hostess was telling Drake.

“- first from your party to arrive, but your table is ready if you want to follow me.”

Drake shook his head, “That can’t be right. I-” but he stopped talking when he caught sight of the two of them. “Oh, there you guys are.”

“Hello, Drake,” said Liam, walking over with his arms extended, exchanging a brief hug with him before stepping back.

“Hey, man. How are you?”

“I’m doing well. Did I hear our table’s ready?”

“Yes, sir. If you three could follow me,” the hostess chimed in.

As Liam fell in behind the hostess, Riley stepped up, squeezing Drake’s arm in greeting and sliding her hand down to his as she moved to follow Liam and the hostess to their table. But Drake tugged her back, so she spun to face him.

“What’s up?”

“I’m sorry I’m late for this. Was it… are you guys okay?”

She just gave him a smile and nodded, “Yeah. I think everything’s going to be fine.” She squeezed his hand to reassure him, then tugged him forward. “Come on, let’s go enjoy a fancy ass dinner with our friend.”

Permatag: @speedyoperarascalparty @mfackenthal @lilyofchoices @thequeenofcronuts @jamesashtonisbae

The Royal Romance/The Royal Heir: @kingliam2019 @sirbeepsalot @texaskitten30 @princessleac1 @ladyangel70 @dcbbw @yaushie @octobereighth

Drake x MC only: @jovialyouthmusic @iplaydrake @gibbles82 @drakewalkerisreal @riley--walker @notoriouscs @butindeed @addictedtodrakefanfic

It Couldn’t Wait Another Moment: @wickedgypsymoon @thesumofmychoices @cosigottahavefaith @thequeenchoices @katedrakeohd @feartheendlesssummer @ao719 @ooo-barff-ooo @sunnyxdazed

#drake walker #drake x mc #trr fanfic #the royal romance #trr #choices trr #trr liam #king liam #choices fanfiction #choices #playchoices #choices stories you play

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izzyhunterscar · 4 years

Text

Kirishima X Reader X Midoriya (DEATHNOTE AU)

Yandere!Izuku X Shy!F!Reader X Yandere!Kirishima (How tf do you spell his name? Eijiro or Eijirou… Wiki says Eijiro but like tons of other things says Eijirou. Help mehhh I'm just going to go with Wiki....)

Quirkless AU, Deathnote AU

Requested by BooksForLifeBowTies

You watched the television eating your favorite snack (f/s). "Blah blah blah, just tell me the dude's name already." Tapping you finger on your death note impatiently. "Dewa Fujio how should you die...you seem kind of old, but they're catching onto my heart attacks...not that they could catch me." You scrawl down his name.

'Dewa Fujio. Trips and cracks his head open.'

"Sweet and simple!" You smile and put your deathnote in your desk under the false bottom of your drawer. "I should probably sleep....or I could grind on some videos games!" You get on your computer and log into your account.

[Welcome to Hero Academy! Please login!

User: (Gamer/name)

Pass: ***************]

[Welcome (G/n)!

Press Tab for stats, I for inventory, and P for teleportation]

You notice that your friends Izuku, Katsuki, Ochaco, and Eijiro were on. You teleport to them and they invite you to their party.

"Hey guys!" You speak into your mic.

"(Y/n)! I thought you had to study?" Izuku greets. "N-not that I don't want you here! I-I wan-"

Katsuki cut him off. "What Deku is asking is if you finished your studying."

You laughed. "Yup! Got my hour of studying in and took a quick nap! Now it's time to GRINDDDDD!"

Eijiro chuckled. "I never understand how you are such a high level with your busy schedule."

"Study, sleep, eat, and video games!!" You openened your stats.

[Lvl. 325

Health: 5200/4500 (+700 equipment boost)

Stamina: 3500/3000 (+500 equipment boost)

Strength: 7900 (+900 weapon boost)

Quirk1: Sniper Healing Quirk2: Death Wings]

You groaned. "I just want to be level 500!!! Is that so much to ask!!!"

You heard collective laughs and grumbles.

"Oh shut up, nerd!" Katsuki grumbled out at you. "Quit complaining, we're all at level 150 so stop your whining."

"How did you level up so quickly? Didn't you start a while after us...." Izuku wondered.

"Simple!" You exclaimed happily. "First a leveled up group adopted me at the beginning and helped me grind out to level 45! Then once I could solo the villains, I calculated-"

"I'm muting you..." Katsuki growled out.

"You're just salty!" Kirishima laughed ta his friend. "But (Y/n)! Teach me your ways!!"

"Me too!" Izuku chimed in.

"I'm going to go guys! You have fun!" Ochaco left the game.

You continued explaining your grinding techniques and Katuski got tired of it and left as well.

"So basically, it's all about timing. Once you have the timing and maxed out your stats at your level you're pretty much unstoppable! You can even take on people with a higher level if you got the strategy down!"

"You're so amazing, (y/n)!" Izuku gushed over the chat. Eijiro joined in on the compliments.

You blushed, not that they could see. "I'm just average, guys. S-stop with the flattery, I'm blushing!"

After a while of you carrying your trip through dungeons, Izuku brought up an interesting subject.

"But isn't Kira kind of a hero? I mean she-they are getting rid of the trash in the world. I wish I had the courage to do that!" Izuku praised the serial killer that was recently on the news.

You froze up at the mention of your recent activities. You noticed Izuku always brought Kira up whenever you were together. "O-Oh well I mean they aren't wrong for getting rid of the criminals, but is it really for them to decided?" You countered. 'Yes it is definitely for me to decide, who else would do it, they might be back on the streets days later.'

Kirishima butted in. "I feel like you don't like Kira that much (Y/n). You never seem to approve of them."

"Well, you guys always bring Kira up and killing is just wrong in general. And how do we know they aren't going to start killing whoever. Your name could be on tv and Kira could just decide they need some entertainment."

"But you wouldn't kill us right? If you were Kira and got tired of us, you wouldn't kill us right?" Izuku presssured.

You chuckled nervously, "IF I was Kira and I got tired of you guys, I would kill you off. If I were to think in a Kira mindset, I'd want you to stop snooping around and bringing Kira up. Unless, of course, you made yourself useful. I mean, Kira doesn't know everything. It takes time." While you tried to make it sound hypothetical, your threat was clear. You didn't want to talk about Kira anymore.

Izuku laughed nervously while punching some demon away from your character. "S-so do you want to come with Eijiro and me to karaoke after school tomorrow?"

You sighed, you were different in real life, they knew that. You hated being put on spot and stuttered when the attention was on you. You were shy but not as shy as Izuku, that didn't mean you were a pushover.

Tons of things were going down tomorrow. The FBI was looking more into the cases and you knew it was a matter of time before the famed detective, known as L, would takeover the Kira cases. You would have your work cut out for you and no time to play after the fact. Your lovely companion, Ryuk, had told you of the Shinigami eyes you could obtain. The price? Half your life. No thank you. You wanted to live a long successful life.

"I would love too, but I have even more studying as the exams come up." You politely declined. "I-I also won't be online as much, just to let you all know. I'm a little worried about the exams so I'll be taking some online courses."

Kirishima blew a raspberry into his mic. "C'mon, (Y/n)! You are literally top three in smarts in the whole school! You don't need to study THAT much! Just tomorrow! Please! It's not manly to not hang out with your friends!" The spiky redhead huffed.

You rolled your eyes, typing '-_-' into the chat. "Kiri, I'm not trying to be manly, I'm trying to pass school. And on the topic of school, you aren't doing so hot are you?"

Over the mic you could hear him accidently knocking some things over. "N-no! I'm doing-"

Izuku cut in. "Eijiro, you are failing history. And math. And the remedial classes they put you in."

You giggled. "Nice try, Kiri. You can't keep this from me. Here's a compromise, how about you come over to my house and we can study instead of going out to karaoke. That way we can hang out and get some work done."

"Sounds good!"

Izuku sputtered out, "H-Hey! What about me?"

"Uh," You thought about it for a second. Both boys coming to your house, alone with each other. You blushed furiously. "Y-you can come if you want! I-I didn't mean to leave you out like that! I just know that you are so smart already and you don't really need help. But I'm not that great of a tutor so you can help me help Kiri! You can totally come to my house too! A-And why not make it a sleepover! T-This Friday let's meet up and we can sleep over the weekend! My parents are on another business trip so we'd have it all to ourselves! N-Not that it was my intention or anything!" You rambled on in embarrassment and guilt.

Both boys perked up to the sleepover part and almost died of redness. "That sounds amazing, (Y/n)!" They both replied to you.

You let out a long breath of tiredness. Damn your shyness and kindness. Not that you didn't love the two boys, but you might have to put your vigilante duties on hold next weekend. Those boys were already curious enough about Kira, aka you, not that they knew.

"I-I'm going to go to sleep now...see you tomorrow! Night!" You quickly logged out and shut down your computer.

They both let out lovesick sighs and shut down their own computers, each saying good night to you in their own special way.

Izuku opened his closet and pressed a code into the back wall. The wall opened up to a shrine of things you've touched, pictures of you as well as any notes or gifts you have given him. He glazed over the items and bowed on both knees. "Night, love! I'll figure out a way to be helpful to you! Just you wait!"

Kirishima opened a folder full of intimate pictures of you, changing, bathing, sweating and many other activities. "Good night, my princess. If you even found about this you would never think of me manly again. I'll have to steal you away and prove my manliness to you. That actually doesn't sound so bad...I'll prove how much a man I can be to you!"

You checked the news on your phone one last time before turning it off and heading to bed. Your head was full of worries and strategies on the new obstacles you brought upon yourself.

The week went by a blur. You saw your friends occasionally, mostly at lunch and some at your free period, but that was the most social interaction you had with them for the week. You would give a shy smile and wave before going straight home after school to do extra and thorough research. You doubled up on the criminal research since your weekend would be occupied.

Watching the news in anticipation, you saw that a rapist had escaped and was on the run. "Useless police." You murmured as you brought out your prized deathnote. "Ryuk, would you do me a favor and just tell me the name of that man." You pointed your pen at the picture on screen. The name unreleased due to "privacy", but everyone knew the real reason.

"You know what to do, mortal. Just half your life and you won't need me to do anything for you."

"B-But....fine. I guess I have to do everything myself." You scoffed. "You are as useless as those cops."

The Shinigami ate his apple in silence as he shrugged with no care as you set yourself down at the computer.

You cracked your knuckles and stretched. "Alright! Stalker mode on!" You did an image search and found him in a social media post, however the account was not his and he wasn't tagged. "Well I guess I'll pay this person a small visit. Simple. Just go and ask the woman the guys name." You found the woman's address and dressed in warm clothes. You paced the sidewalk, you just had to turn the corner and ask the woman. "J-Just go up and ask. S-Simple. (Y/n)! Pull yourself together!" You turned the corner before abruptly turning around and heading home. "Dammit. Stop your snickering you Laughing Jack rip off."

He stopped snickering and snarled. "Just because we're both larger then your puny self does not make us the same."

"Wow, something actually bothers the death god. Shocker." You threw an apple his way, sighing in defeat. "I can literally figure out anything on the internet but when it comes to real life I can't do anything! I-It's not my fault people are hard to talk to!" You threw yourself on your bed and fell asleep as soon as your head hit your pillow.

The next day came as fast as you went to sleep it was one of those nights where you blinked and it was morning.

Running on caffeine and a blink of sleep, you got through your school day. The end of the day came quickly and you found Izuku and Kirishima waiting for you at the front gate already packed and conversing in hushed whispers.

You called to them and both of them immediately stopped talking but smiled and walked over to you. Even though you were slightly curious as to what's got them huddles together with not-so innocent smiles on their faces, you were never one to push or pry.

When you reached your house you gave them a basic house tour and brought them to your room. You had already set the futons out in your room and let them bicker over who got which one. Your room was spacious enough to put a barrier between the beds and give you privacy. You told them to get comfortable and you were going to take a shower first, since you interrupted their conversation earlier, you hoped they resumed it here.

When you didn't hear anything of interest, you hopped into the shower, humming a sweet tune. What you didn't expect, was for them to be so snoopy.

You exited the bathroom wearing a comfy silky robe and caught the two with your death note in their hands and Ryuk conversing with two other shinagamis.

You let out a shocked squeal and retreated to the bathroom. Your thoughts were haywire. What were they doing looking for your death note? Why were there two other shinagamis out there and why should you not barge out, grab your note, and kill them? You calmed yourself down and thought about everything rationally.

You took a deep breath, opened the door and walked out. All eyes were one you. You snatched your death note from the two boys, who looked liked kicked puppies, and sat down in a sofa chair.

Your body shook a little due to the fact you had to confront them about the recent events.

"So..explain." You opened your death note and tapped the pen in your hand as a warning.

They both immediately fell to your feet and uttered ashamed apologies.

"I didn't ask for an apology, I asked for you to explain."

Izuku started. "Remember how you said IF you were Kira you would kill us if we weren't useful? We love you so much and would happily die for you, but we want to be as useful as we can to you!"

Kirishima finally looked up and added onto what Izuku had said. "And then we both were granted death notes! And we remembered that you can't do everything and we certainly didn't want your life taken, so we both traded for Shinigami eyes!! Now we can help you!"

You bit your lip nervously. "This is certainly a surprise. I had no idea you l-loved me! The thought just sounds crazy. Moving on...how did you know I was Kira. I was sure I was careful."

That's when Izuku made his move. He latched onto your crossed legs and rubbed his cheeks on your bare skin. "Oh my love! You were very careful! You are so smart and wonderful and a great actor, but we've studied you! We notice things no one else would about you! My darling, we would know if you were keeping things from us! That's why we got rid of all your obstacles! Well as many as we could."

You shuddered at the weird behavior both men were exhibiting. This was nothing like what you thought they were like. "Wait! How long have you known? And how long have you had your death notes?"

Kirishima eyed Izuku with jealousy as the broccoli haired man stroked your legs lovingly. "We've know for a little over three weeks, about the same time we were granted our death notes."

Your eyes buldged. You were that obvious to them?! You turned and glared at Ryuk. "Tell me you didn't let it slip to your buddies."

He shrugged. "My 'buddies' already knew. They saw and they made their decision on what to do with that information."

A hand on your chin moved your gaze to red pointed eyes. "Don't look at those monsters, princess. They're too hideous for your precious eyes."

You shook both boys off. "Y-You want to help me?" You asked uncertain.

"Yes, darling."

"It is my wish to stay by your side, princess."

"Oh, well I can't deny the usefulness you both can be with those eyes. I suppose I'll allow it."

Eijiro and Izuku managed to wrap themselves around you and nudged you towards your bed. You all fell onto it and was squished between the two.

"Now that we've gotten the business part over with. What do you say about our manly confession? Only a true man would kill for the one he loves."

You looked at him dreamily. "If you killed someone for me, I'd marry you."

They both looked at each other and then at you. "We already did."

This got your attention. "Y-You have? For little ol' me? I-I who?"

You felt both their arms wrap around you as they told you of their killings. As weird as the situation was, you fell asleep to the whispers of their stories.

"You promised yourself to us, darling. We expect all your affection!"

"Don't be shy with us, we were made to please you."

"Never look at another male with those beautiful eyes."

"We're your kings and you are our princess. We'll have to lock you away in a tower if you don't love us."

A/N

I know this isn't exactly what you wanted, but I tried ;-; hopefully it's alright. It went a interesting direction buut it's finished! I had a lot of fun writing it even though I stretched the prompt a bit. Sorry for any mistakes!

-Izzy

#bnha #bnha eijiro kirishima #bnha kirishima #x reader #reader insert #reader #student reader #op reader #supposed to be shy reader but idk how to write apparently #mha izuku #villain izuku #yandere midoriya #midoriya izuku #yander kirishima #yandere eijiro #yandere

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sweetbyte · 4 years

Text

Title : Say When Part VII

Previous Chapters | I | II | III | IV | V | VI

Pairing : Shouto Todoroki | Momo Yaoyorozu

Rated : T

It’s not something he expects, the odd churning feeling that leaves distaste in his mouth when they walk into something they obviously shouldn’t have seen. Momo has never been more flushed and begrudgingly he admits the color rather suits her.

He feels bothered and he doesn’t understand why. It’s not like Yaoyrozu and him are anything more than…friends. Logically, he knows it doesn’t make sense to get upset, but he can’t help it, not with his mark suddenly pulsing with irritation. It’s been a long time since he’s resented having the mark, but the feeling returns in the most spiteful way. Of course, even with all the odds in his favor, the one person he’d be slightly interested in would have no interest in him.

She appears mortified, as she should be, and she starts to apologize profusely like it’s her fault the group hadn’t had the decency to knock in the first place. Bakugou is uncharacteristically quiet, for once, which unsettles him even more. In fact, Bakugou is glaring at them with such a passion, its as if they would catch flame if he so willed it.

After a few unbearable moments of awkwardness, Momo manages to find a way to scurry away muttering about checking on Jirou and Hagakure, who should be wide awake by now.

As soon as the door closes behind her, Kirishima is the first to recover and sends a devilish smile to the blonde. “So, you and Yaomomo, huh?” Shouto wants to hurl.

Bakugou blanches in response and seem to regain the ability to speak, or snarl rather. “Fuck no!”

At this, Midoriya begins to laugh nervously and Iida begins to shift his gaze between the all aggressively.

“Something funny fucking, Deku? What the hell are you even doing here?” Bakugou snips causing the other poor boy to choke and Iida has pity on him and speaks up while patting his back.

“You can hardly blame us for jumping to conclusions. After all, we walked into you two in a compromising-“

“Compromising?! You’re all fucking retarded, someone get me outta this shit hospital, or I’ll end up killing my goddamn self.” Bakugou snarls as he moves to rip the iv out, fed up at the whole situation. Kirishima, Midoriya and even Iida all rush to keep the impulsive blonde down, but Todoroki doesn’t move, he hasn’t even spoken yet.

“Come on, no need to get so worked up! We believe you! I was just kidding” Kirishima tries to placate him while the other two nod enthusiastically causing Shouto to sigh in exasperation. “You got something you wanna say,you half-and-half prick?”

Shout is not phased in the slightest. “Not necessarily, no.”

Bakugou just scoffs. “Whatever. Listen idiots, I’m only gonna say this once. That was nothing, just little virtuous ponytail making sure I wasn’t dead; something about guilt. This better not leave this room or I swear-.”

His words do little to comfort Shouto but he only shrugs, determined not to care. Even if what Bakugou claimed was true, there was still explanation for the sight they walked into; Bakugou taking off his shirt and Yaoyorozu hovering extremely close to his skin.

It doesn’t matter, Yaoyorozu is her own person, Yaoyorozu can make her own decisions, Yaoyorozu can- Shouto suddenly excuses himself and swiftly walks out ignoring Bakugous calculating eyes. He goes to the bathroom and immediately runs cold water over his wrist. Not cold enough at first, he brings his right hand up to cool his throbbing skin.

There is a brief second where he wishes the mark had been on his right side so he could have just burned it off before banishing the stupid thought away in frustration.

When Momo finally manages to retreat into Jirou’s room, she’s met with a face of mild amusement. It only serves to further fluster her even though there is no way her friend knows why she is all but burning up in embarrassment.

Mortified, absolutely mortified. As bad as it was to be caught in that predicament at all, Todoroki’s presence made it no better. In fact, it completely decimated her. She could not tell what would be worse; Todoroki feeling disappointed, or him feeling nothing at all.

“Do you want to talk about it?” Jirou asks after a moment. Even thought she can still see traces of amusement on her face, her voice is tender and fond. It’s tempting to tell her friend everything, but she only shakes her head and moves closer to her.

“How are you feeling?” Jirou smiles and points to a bag beside her hospital bed. “I was actually on my way to change. I’ve been set free!” To further emphasize this, she raises her arms to show her free of bandages, scratches or scars. Momo smiles in return feeling a pang of guilt for not being with her friend when she needed it.

“So, I heard you where apart of the ragtag that rescued Bakugou.” Jirou comments airily while making her way to the restroom to change out of the hospital gown she was currently donning. Momo’s cheeks blushed at the mention of the Bakugou and it unfortunately did not escape Jirou’s attention.

“Oh, we are totally talking about it.” Jirou announces before she shuts the door of the restroom leaving Momo to simmer in her never-ending dilemma. She glances over to the hospital bed with a sudden urge to crawl into it and hide.

Jirou doesn’t take long and when she comes out looking far more comfortable in her own clothes than the gown she was in earlier, Momo’s guilt resurfaces. “I apologize for not stopping by sooner, I’m a horrible friend.” She grimaces and Jirou waves her off and stretches lightly.

“Not from what I’ve heard.” Jirou begins, almost hesitantly. “You went out on a ballsy rescue, I’m not hurt about it.”

“We were lucky.” Momo admits and Jirou instantly makes a sound in agreeance. “I saw some of the fight on the screen with Hagakure and I have to say, I thought even All Might got lucky.”

Jirou chuckles at the look of remembrance and alarm that flashes on Momo’s faces before shaking her head at her friend. “Don’t worry about it, she was released yesterday she just kept me a bit of company.”

“I’m a horrible friend!” Momo groans as Jirou finishes packing her bag causing her to snort. “Stop it, you’re not! You were out there saving lives!” At Momo’s look of doubt, she continues while slinging her bag over her shoulder. “Honestly Momo, no one thinks ill of you. They needed you more anyway.”

“But I feel so…selfish.”Jirou rolls her eyes at her poor friend and drags her out of the room by the elbow. “Why? Did you ditch me for a boyfriend or something?” Jirou sniggers and Momo turns pink and thinks. ‘Or something.’

As they continue to walk through the hallways, she feels her mark itch and she decides to take it as a sign. “Jirou, can I ask you a question?”

Jirou glances at her friend in curiosity before nodding her head.

“How do you feel about your soul mark?” Momo throws the question out before she can chicken out and Jirou all but trips over herself.

“I’m sorry, what?” Jirou breathes and Momo starts to think of the best way to pull back. “Uh,”

“Wait a minute, Momo you don’t think…” Jirou trails off while scrutinizing her as she decides to increase her pace. Jirou may not hold the 1st, 2nd, or 3rd spot in class in terms of academics, but she’s not at all dull. Especially when it comes to Momo. She pulls Momo to a stop by catching her wrist. “Who?”

Momo decides to avoid any sort of eye contact with her and scans the empty reception area before letting out a defeated sigh. “I don’t know.” She answers honestly.

“Well, we have plenty to talk about. Let’s walk to your house and pick up a change of clothes for you.” Jirou starts, pausing to think for a minute. “I mean you’re welcome to use my clothes, but I don’t think you’ll be comfortable in them…no offence.”

“P-pardon?” Momo manages to stutter out and again she’s being dragged by her friend.

“You’re obviously staying over my house to bring me up to speed with what I’ve missed, which seems to be quite a bit. Honestly, I feel like I’m the real bad friend here.” Aside from her building anxiety, Momo allows herself to smile at her friend feeling extremely grateful to have her.

After some time, Shouto makes his way back into Bakugou’s room only to find it empty, save for Bakugou himself who was angrily staring at the ceiling.

“Did they leave?” He asks, causing the blond to snort. “I fucking wish, went to stuff their faces with the disgusting slop this pace serves.”

Deciding not to make it more uncomfortable for himself, Shouto goes to excuse himself before Bakugou speaks up.

“You’re a fucking idiot.”

Shouto doesn’t expect it but frowns nonetheless. “Excuse me?”

Bakugou only huffs aggressively before finally looking down to look at Shouto. “You’re a fucking idiot, you’re worrying over nothing.”

In that moment, Shouto isn’t sure how to react, so he doesn’t. After a brief pause, he nods his head and turns to leave. “Feel better.”

Closing the door, he catches Bakugou muttering “What a pussy”, and decides that he really can’t stand him. Not one goddamn bit.

A/N: Todo catching those jealous feelings, finally- I know!

#todomomo #say when #my writes #jots #soulmate au

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ramblinganthropologist · 3 years

Text

N7 Challenge - Indoctrination

Summary: Alistair muses over indoctrination, Reapers, and the possibility of wet tail as he visits the Council chamber after his final battle with Saren. He wasn’t sure what he was looking for, but he couldn’t stay away. Lucky for him, he wasn't the only one with that feeling.

(Post ME1, pre ME2)

---

It was amazing just how fast they were rebuilding the Citadel.

“You'd hardly believe the place was blasted by Reapers... but maybe that's the point.”

Alistair knew he was talking to himself, but that was ok. There was nobody around to hear him, and even if there was the noise of construction would drown out anything he had to say. After surviving what he had... he had earned the right to a small conversation with himself.

It was in the Alliance hand book. Page 3, subsection 4 – if the Citadel lands on you and you don't beef it, you get to talk to yourself without anyone saying shit. There was of course a “but” if someone of higher rank was around, but he was pretty sure as a Spectre that didn't apply to him anyway. Hooray for screwing the rules.

Today, his walk was taking him near what used to be the presidium. Normally, he wouldn't have been able to get in there, but again he was a Spectre. Maybe he had mentioned that to get past the guards a ways back, or maybe they had just recognized him as the twink in the armor who looked like a child next to the second human Spectre. It was kind of a toss up. Anyway, he was walking around a much less occupied part of the Citadel.

His goal was the old Council chamber, where he and his squad had squared off against Saren before it had all gone to shit. Just getting close to it made his bones ache, but Alistair kept going. Something like a morbid curiosity had possessed him, he supposed.

After all... towards the end... Saren had seemed like himself.

“You ok, Shepard? They said you got out of the hospital, but nobody's seen you around.”

Joker's message played in his earpiece. Alistair had left it turned on in case anyone found any living geth. So far, it was sounding ok – lots of dead robots, but also plenty of dead people to go with it. They had kept the Citadel, but the 5th fleet had taken quite a hit. That one had hurt – the Hong Kong had been a part of that. Now... well he had lost friends.

“Yeah, I just needed to clear my head. Are we cleared to go?”

He could hear Joker patching into something on the other side. “In about an hour. Totally psyched for our next destination, though. Who doesn't love the Terminus system?”

The sarcasm in his voice could had stripped paint, and the remains of the Council chamber needed it as Alistair finally started his approach. Here the ground was marred with fragments from bullets and energy blasts, but any bodies had long since been cleared away. There was still blood and oil, though – that the Keepers hadn't gotten to yet. They were trying, though. He had to give them that, even if it made his stomach turn.

“Hopefully it'll just be a quick trip. Now that the Council know...”

He paused, frowning. “Scratch that, knowing them they won't admit we almost got defeated by a Reaper invasion on the Citadel.”

“No doubt. They're probably just sending us to look good.” There was a beeping on the other end. “That would be someone from the Alliance. Talk to you when you get back, Commander.”

The line went dead after that, leaving the Spectre in silence as he climbed the broken steps, surrounded by the debris. When he closed his eyes, he could still see Saren pointing his gun at his head and firing. The wind carried the sound of his broken body hitting the ground yards below, and the sigh of relief they had all felt once it was over.

And then the bastard had popped up for round two.

Saren's Reaper-modified body was gone now, though. It had long since been cleared away to wherever they had taken it for study and disposal. The turians were probably furious about that – or they were sweeping the whole thing under the rug. In some aspects, they were very much like his own species when it came to one of their own fucking up.

Though, to be fair, Saren had been brainwashed.

Alistair frowned as he came to a stop at the top of the stairs. Here, he and Saren had talked briefly before the end had come. The man had been struggling – they had been so close to convincing him. Who knew what information they had lost with that bullet? Just thinking about it made him grit his teeth as he gripped the broken railing.

“How the hell could he have let Sovereign implant him?”

“I dunno... weird fucking Reaper bullshit? You're the tech expert, not me.”

A human voice caused him to pick up his head. It was coming from his blind side, so he had to do a full body turn. There was someone else in the Council chamber, sitting on a chunk of ceiling that had fallen in the final assault. When they locked eyes, she hopped off and joined him at the railing.

Bo had gotten out of the hospital about an hour before him, so it was no surprise she was here too.

“Figured you'd show up sooner or later.” She kicked a rock and watched as it sailed across the chamber. “It wasn't sitting right with me either.”

No... they had both discussed it in the hospital after the investigators and the Council had cleared out. Everything Saren had said and done before the final shot kept playing through his mind as he stared at where the turian had once been. It was like it was burned into his memory.

“What kind of power would it have taken to get Saren to agree to the implantation process?” He frowned. “Just how strong is indoctrination?”

It was a dumb question – he knew from Noveria that it was strong enough to take out an asari matriarch like Benezia. If it could get to Saren and allow what had happened, then anyone was a target. And lucky them, the Citadel was still covered in Reaper fragments.

How long until a child picked one up and started the process all over again?

“I still think you should've just shot him. Even I could see there wasn't a way back from what he'd become.” She shrugged. “But we know-”

Alistair rolled his eyes as he added, “I know. I'm a paragon of virtue and a save the day superhero. What can I say, there was a moment where it looked like I was getting through to him. Maybe he could've helped us with the Reapers.”

But even as he said that, he knew better. Their control was too perfect to allow for something like that. Even if he had talked Saren down, it wouldn't have lasted. Eventually, the Reapers would have taken control. He would've been dead, either in the Council chamber or in a cell.

That didn't help his guilt any, though. It never did.

Still, he sighed as he glanced around. “What a mess.”

“Yeah, the Keepers haven't gotten here yet.” Bo stooped to pick up a fragment of something. “Hey, I think I found that piece of armor Vakarian was missing. That should cheer him up about the whole Reapers are coming to kill us thing, right?”

Oh, totally. Anyone would be happier after seeing a former Spectre shoot themselves in the head to avoid control by the Reapers.

Still... it was a mess. No denying that. He kicked a rock with his foot, watching it bounce into what had been the podium at one point. Honestly, it was hard to believe this was the same chamber where he and Bo had both become Spectres such a short time ago. Part of him had to wonder if the Council was regretting or celebrating that choice. Since they were still alive and fucking owed the Alliance a 5th fleet sized favor, maybe he would ask them sometime.

That was after hitting Terminus, however. They had work to do.

“Hey... do you think we're going to run into anyone else like Saren?” Bo was still picking through the debris. “You know, souped up with Reaper tech and with scrambled brain?”

He shrugged. “Most likely. The Reapers don't seem the type to give up after one attempt. We're going to have to figure out a way to know.”

Bo found another piece of armor, though it looked like it belonged to the geth. “Besides the weird tech sticking out of them and the zombie look?”

Yeah, besides that.

Alistair sighed and shook his head once more as he turned his back on the podium. Maybe he had been hoping by coming back, he'd get some insight into Saren. Unfortunately, all he got was a headache and a look at the Keepers trying to rebuild everything. At least he was up and walking, which was more than the doctor could have hoped for.

Everything still hurt, but he could walk.

“We should get back to the Normandy. The Terminus system is waiting.”

Bo rolled her eyes as she fell into step behind him as they started to walk. “Last I checked, you were still the Normandy's CO. Unless they kicked us both out and gave Pressley the job while we were out, that means we're not going anywhere without you.”

“Well, at least we wouldn't get lost in the system if our navigator was running the show, though I doubt our newer crewmates wouldn't appreciate that much.” Alistair found himself chuckling weakly despite everything. “Sometimes I forget it's my ship still.”

His XO nudged him in her version of a light joke, but it almost launched him. “Then paint a fucking hamster on it or something. We could make it a tribute to Fluffytail.”

Ah, yes. Poor Fluffytail. Wet tail had gotten him just before Ilos. He'd lived a good life, albeit a short one. It still hurt to look at his empty cage, but it wasn't like Citadel Critters was open for a replacement. Besides, he wasn't ready.

Maybe in 6 months...

“There's an idea. I'm sure we've got some paint somewhere.”

“Fuck yeah, that's the spirit.”

Both squinted as they exited the presidium. Around them, recovery and construction were in high swing. To say it was noisy was putting it mildly as they started to walk back to the docks where the Normandy was. It was hard to even hear himself think as he avoided a pile of rubble that still leaked oil.

Would he know what indoctrination looked like, though? Benezia had looked ok, and so had Saren until he had gotten souped up by the Reapers. If it was that subtle, anyone they ran across could be under their control. Hell, the crew themselves were suspect...

Maybe he needed to come up with a scan or a test or something. Like check question one if your thoughts aren't your own...

“He's not paying attention to me, is he, Shepard?”

“Nope, totally in his own world. Hang on, I gotta keep him from eating shit.”

A strong hand suddenly yanked Alistair back. He blinked, and realized in his thought spiral had taken him down the path and almost into a light pole. Luckily, Bo had two working eyes and was strong enough to haul a 145 pound weight back before he collided with it. It was moments like these he was glad she was there and able to wrestle krogan.

Bo rolled her eyes as she put him back down. “Quit doom spiraling, there's more shit to beef it on that usual.”

“Right... sorry.” He shook his head. “Sounds like I'm missing something from Joker too. What's up?”

The pilot chuckled in his ear. “Welcome back to the land of the living, Commander. I was just telling the Commander that we're getting the coordinates for our first location. We're waiting on you, unless you really want us to stage a mutiny or something and leave you on the Citadel to brood.”

Well, he'd be pretty impressed if Joker could stage a mutiny without breaking anything, but that was beside the point.

Alistair nodded as his feet found the path again. Details were already starting to stream into his omni-tool about where they were heading. Doubt still ate at his stomach as he read them over, but he pushed them aside. They had a job to handle, and since they were the only living Alliance members that knew what indoctrination looked like that meant it was on them.

Maybe in time, he'd be able to develop something for the rest of the Alliance. Though he doubted they'd accept it... well, it was easy enough to hack their email server without them knowing about it when you knew where a few back doors were.

“Looks like someone's feeling better. What, you planning to hack the Council or something?”

That time he chuckled as they started to approach the docks, the Normandy waiting in the distance. “No, just remembering where I kept my key to get into the Alliance email server. Figured we might need it to get a message out one day.”

“I always knew you were a little chaos gremlin under that mask of civility.”

Indeed, and the chaos gremlin was itching to go find some Reapers to study. Maybe this next mission wouldn't be too terrible after all. Besides, what was the worst that could happen while they were out there? It wasn't like a Reaper was going to appear out of nowhere and blow his damn ship up while they were planet scanning.

That be weird. Luckily, nothing like that was probably going to happen.

#n7month #Alistair Shepard #Bo Peep Shepard #And then that happene

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