#and the dishes prepared is already based off your first choice
Note
I know that it's a bit stupid but I don't like the taste of meat since I was a child, so playing a game where someone actually cared if I liked such a common food or not made me feel oddly delighted. Tysm 😊
Aww this is honestly so sweet! I do try to keep dietary differences in mind when coming up with the food options for the game but I'm aware it's not perfect haha. But nevertheless I'm glad to know that!
#mushroom oasis vn#cheea chatter#reminds me of the system in where winter crows go#where you can choose if ur a vegetarian/vegan or none#and the dishes prepared is already based off your first choice#very neat!!!
177 notes
·
View notes
Note
congratulations on another year of writing :)))) <3
for the fic requests, Hitsuhina first date! (yes I still remember when you teased that one snippet of Toushiro going to meet Momo for dinner and Rangiku finding out haha) it can be awkard it can be spectuacular it can go horribly wrong, i want to see your take on them navigating through a change in relationship :)
What if it Was?
Rating: K/General with mild themes
Setting: sometime after the 10 year timeskip. I personally see this happening when they’re in their early young adult years, but please feel free to imagine this happening whenever you want.
Synopsis: Toshiro and Momo go on their first date, but Toshiro isn’t sure how first dates are supposed to go, or if this even a date at all.
AN: I’m starting the year off with a VERY overdue request.
@canariie, you’ve got me! I’ve been dancing around this one for years, but now I have no choice but to release it! XD
I’m joking, but in all seriousness, this one has been collecting dust in my WIP folder for a few years now. I always got stuck on it in one way or another. This fic originally came about as a sequel to In Times of Peace (which I think is the first fic I wrote for you, ironically), but morphed into something else.This one does get angsty and a tad bit melodramatic – it’s me we’re talking about - but I promise it has fluffy moments.
Just three quick notes:
The research I did into this one was based on searching online and remembering old conversation I had with a friend who went to Japan. A shokudo is a casual restaurant that offers a variety of dishes, including curry, rice and noodle dishes, even sushi.
The mural in this piece is inspired by this one.
I wrote this fics with several songs in the background. Feel free to listen to them as you read: going home and compassion by Shiro Sagisu, The Bygone Days by Joe Hisaishi, and State Lines by Novo Amor
Anyhow, enough rambling, hope you enjoy it!
____________________________________
“Hey, Captain, when can I get my magazines back?”
Toshiro neatens the paperwork before putting it on top of the ‘completed’ stack. Without looking Rangiku’s way, he replies, “When you stop relying on those horoscopes to predict the future.”
The lieutenant slams her hands down on her desk, almost shooting up to stand. “But they’re so accurate! Besides, it’s a fun to learn about the World of Living and how they…” She trails off when the captain stands and starts wrapping a scarf around his neck. “Wait, are you going out?”
“Yes.”
“But I was going to go drinking with Kira and Hisagi! Captain, you can’t leave me with all of this!” She thrust one hand out towards the stack of incomplete paperwork, and the other to the much smaller completed pile.
“You went out drinking last night!” he retorts. “You can’t leave this office until you complete all of this, some of it is overdue now.”
Rangiku falls back into her seat with an exasperated sigh. “I know, but it’s no fun.”
“Since when was it supposed to be fun?”
“Well, you seem to like doing it.”
“Where did you get that idea from?!”
The lieutenant pouts and leans forward, resting her elbows along the desk. “Why are you going out? You rarely go out on a work night.”
Toshiro continues to wrap the scarf around his neck, considering his words. He can already predict her reaction if he tells the truth, but telling her a lie feels wrong. “I’m going out to dinner in the Junrinan.”
Rangiku raises a brow. “By yourself?” Then after a beat she smiles. “Or is it with your Granny? Taking her out for a treat?”
“No.” He breathes in deeply as he shrugs off his haori, preparing for her reaction. “It’s with Hinamori.”
And sure enough, the lieutenant gapes at him, hands slamming down on the desk again to push herself up and out of her chair. A vein threatens to throb in his temple when her paperwork stack wobbles, but thankfully doesn’t topple.
This goes completely unnoticed by Rangiku as she rounds the desk, barraging him with questions. “Where? When? How?! How did you ask her out? Or did she ask you out?! Oh my gosh, why didn’t she tell me?! She was updating me two days ago with Women’s Association business, why didn’t she tell me then?! Please don’t tell me you-”
“Enough, Matsumoto!”
She quietens, widened eyes blinking. Toshiro lays his folded up haori on his desk, ready for him tomorrow morning. “She just said she wanted to go eat dinner somewhere in Junrinan,” he clarifies. “This isn’t a…date.” He barely gets the last word out.
Rangiku taps a finger against her chin. “You’re going to a restaurant in the Junrinan for dinner?”
“Yes.”
“Is anyone else going with either of you?”
“No.”
“So, it’s just the two of you then?”
“…Yes.”
She grins. “Sounds like a date to me.”
Faint pink colors Toshiro’s cheeks. “Whatever, I’m going!”
Rangiku scoffs. “You know, if I had my magazine I could use a horoscope to predict how you’re date will go tonight. Last I check for your sign it was-”
“I don’t want to know. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m going.” He stabs a finger towards her paperwork as he strides to the office door. “Those had better be done by tomorrow morning.”
“Oh, they will be! You go and enjoy yourself, Captain! Good luck!”
This is one of the few times Rangiku looks happy to be doing paperwork, but Toshiro can’t stay to absorb this strange moment; he’d be two minutes late if he didn’t hurry. He hastily leaves his division, acknowledging but not stopping when any of his subordinates greet him.
Stepping out into the dusk, the cold air picks up, bringing grey clouds over the Seireitei. He adjusts his scarf, bringing it higher over his face as the temperature plunges. Winter had just begun, and he senses the snow is on its way, likely to fall sometime tonight.
Nearing the White Road gate, a sense of unease bubbles up in him. What if this was a date? It couldn’t be. Momo didn’t see him that way, he knows. She sees him as a close friend to him, had told him as such not too long ago.
She just wants to properly catch up. In the years following the Quincy war and reconstruction of the Soul Society, they chatted when they could, even had the occasional lunch breaks together, but work always took precedence in both of their lives; or at least, in his life. Momo has more friendships, more people to spend time with. He’d seen her with the Women’s Association members at various shops and resturants, and Izuru and Renji – who sometimes brought Ichika along when he couldn’t find someone to mind her when she was a baby and child – sharing a tea or meal after a lieutenant’s meeting on a veranda of one of their divisions. She’d also gotten more World of the Living missions, sometimes simply as an excuse to visit the Visoreds with Shinji. They were long overdue to spend time together outside of work.
Coming through the gate, he already gets stares from the small crowds of Souls and off duty Shinigami that crowd the Junrinan. It’s for that reason he chose to leave his haori behind – he already attracts enough attention with his appearance outside of the Seireitei, and he didn’t want preferential treatment based on his rank.
He heads straight for their old meeting place: the alleyway between the stall that sold spinning-tops and a garment shop Momo used to always look into but never buy anything from.
He glances around for Jidanbo, but frowns when he doesn’t see him anywhere. Must be having the night off, he thinks. It’s been a while since he last saw him too. He makes a mental note to visit him sometime this week on his break – maybe he could fit in a visit to Granny too.
“Hitsugaya-kun!”
He swivels his head in the direction of Momo’s voice. She calls out for him again, and he spots her emerging from the alleyway. He weaves his way through the crowds to her, not once losing sight of her.
As he nears, his eyes widen a fraction at the scarf around her neck. It was a birthday present from him and Rangiku, but it’d been over a decade since he last saw her wear it at a formal dinner for then-Captain General Yammato. Made from red and orange silk and patterned with the branches and flowers of peach blossoms, it was one of the most expensive gifts he’d ever gotten her. Why would she wear something like this to a dinner? Where is she taking him? Should he have dressed up more? Maybe he should have worn his haori after all.
“How long have you been waiting for?” he asks, his neutral tone at complete odds with the nervousness thrumming through him.
“Not long.” She points to a large building down the street, bustling with customers inside and outside. “That’s it right there.”
He blinks when he spots one of the red lanterns swaying in a breeze. A shokudo? He calms a fraction; it’s more casual than he thought. “Well, let’s get inside if we can, it’s freezing out.”
Momo lets out an bemused snort. “You’re cold, Hitsugaya-kun?”
He’d normally correct her for not addressing him by his title, but they’re off duty, he’ll let it slide for tonight. “I’m not the one with a fire-type zanpakuto that’s sensitive to the cold.”
She giggles, holding the end of her scarf. “I’m okay, I made sure to wear extra layers.”
As they start towards the restaurant, Toshiro asks, “Why this one?”
“I’ve been meaning come here for a while,” Momo says. “Apparently the owner used to be a Shinigami but after he retired, he decided to open a shokudo inspired by the different types of restaurants in the World of the Living he went to while stationed there. I’m curious about the food, it’s supposed be different in taste and the types of dishes they offer compared to others in the area.”
Toshiro raises a brow. He was actually referring to her scarf, but let's it go. “He had time to go do that while on missions?”
“Well, you apparently have time go for walks when you’re on missions. We all have our ways of winding down or keeping ourselves occupied during missions.”
Fair point, he concedes inwardly. “And how did you find out about this place?”
“It was recommended to me by my third and fourth seats. Apparently a lot of people have already been to it, it’s quite popular.” She gestures to all the patrons, her smile tightening. “Hopefully we can get a table.”
He hums in agreement. If either of them had come dressed in their full uniforms, there would no doubt be a fuss made over them. They’d be offered private tables away from the noise, or ones with the best view if they were outside. Some places even offered discounts or meals on the house. He appreciates the generosity, but he also considered it making a scene. He’s glad Momo is of the same mind, never flaunting her status for benefits.
He receives a few looks as they walk between the outdoor tables. He recognizes some faces from Junrinan, children he had known on his street now grown up. Momo waves to one group of them, and they smile and nod back to both of them in response. The way he is treated now compared to then is almost night and day. Although some continue to stare, there’s a respect from some Souls that wasn’t present when he was a child.
Once inside, they’re shown to a table along the wall, right beneath a painted mural.
“What drinks would you like to start off with?” the waiter asks.
“Water,” Toshiro requests.
“And yuzu juice for me, please.”
After the waiter leaves, Momo glances around the restaurant. “Are you okay with this? It’s not too noisy?”
“It’s fine.” Toshiro peruses the long menu list. “How big is their kitchen? How can they serve so many dishes?”
Momo’s smile relaxes, the nerves seeming to dissipate. “You can see why it’s popular, huh?”
Toshiro lifts his gaze from the menu. There’s only two free tables inside, and the others are mostly occupied by…couples. Couples laughing and giggling and smiling and holding hands and talking like they’re married and one going in for a shy kiss on the cheek.
He quickly darts his head down. Considering or even noticing such things would be the furthest thing from his mind normally, but he’s potentially on a date – with Momo. Maybe he should have gotten Rangiku more involved in this. She’d know what to do and what not to do…or maybe not.
Toshiro snaps out of his thoughts when the waiter comes back with their drinks.
“And are you ready to order?” the waiter asks.
Momo looks questioningly to Toshiro. “I’m ready.”
Toshiro picks the first thing he sees. “I’ll get a the teishoku with yakizakana and tamagoyaki.”
“And can I please have a serving of takoyaki and the katsudon curry dish?” Momo requests.
The waiter nods. “I can bring the takoyaki over in a few minutes. The other dishes will come after.”
Momo thanks him as he leaves.
“I thought we could share some takoyaki, if you want,” she says to Toshiro. “I’m happy to eat them all, though.”
Toshiro shrugs. “I’ll eat a few.”
He’s surprised by the silence that comes. He’s used to having quiet moments with Momo, when neither feels the need to say anything and they just enjoy each other’s company. The awkwardness that settles between them is unexpected, like something from when they were first getting to know each other as children. Was it just him? Was it because this could be a date and he had no clue what to talk about?
“This mural is really nice,” Momo suddenly says.
Toshiro looks at the painting. It’s bold black lines depict a scene of four Souls travelling through a hilly valley. Two of them carry baskets on their backs filled with wood and fruits, while another Soul strolls ahead carrying various kitchenware, and the last Soul is far away and waving back at his companions. The valley’s flora is detailed and elegant, while the Souls are more flat and seem out of place. The only patches of color come from the sakura trees on both side of the valley’s winding path, the petals either swaying on the branches or falling across the scene.
“I wonder what it’s about?” Momo says after a sip of juice. “Maybe it has something to do with the restaurant if one of them is carrying a pot?”
“Could be. You could ask someone who works here.”
Something softens in her gaze as it flickers back down to the table. “I might…”
“You should.” There was his problem. He couldn’t think creatively like her, or find a way to carry this conversation. He’s never been ashamed of this nor has it ever been an issue for him, but somehow he feels inadequate now. He clears his throat. “How has your day been?”
Before she can answer, the takoyaki arrives. After thanking the waiter, Momo pushes the dish towards him. “Have a few.”
“Thank you,” he says while taking two.
She makes a satisfied sound after biting into one. “These are good!”
He only nods as he munches on his. After her second one and taking another sip of juice, her head piques up with a nervous laugh. “You asked me about my day, sorry. It was busy, but productive.”
“No surprise there.”
She frowns and her lips are on verge of a pout. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“You’re always busy, and you work hard, so it’s productive.” He’s surprised by his compliment and how easily it fell from his lips. He stops eating, gauging her reaction as she too seems as astonished as him.
A blush colors the tops of her cheeks. “Captain Hirako worked hard too.”
Toshiro bites back on the comment he wants to make about Shinji’s work ethic, afraid he might say something else without realizing.
“We finished up our schedules for the new recruits ahead of time,” she continues, “so we’re prepared for when they start.”
“That won’t be for another two months.”
“It helps to be prepared! With that out of the way, we’re now focusing on setting up training exercises.” She takes a long sip of her juice, but then hums. “Actually, now that I remember, we were wondering if Tenth Division would like to join in one of those exercises.”
“What would the core lesson be?”
“It’ll be up to you and Captain Hirako to negotiate. I could arrange a meeting with you, me, my Captain, and Rangiku-san if you’re interested.”
“I doubt we’ll have time in the next month.”
“That’s okay. We have three months planned starting tomorrow.”
“In that case, I’ll have Matsumoto tell you our schedules at the next lieutenant’s meeting.”
“Great!” Her smile turns rueful. “Ah, sorry, I feel like I’ve been speaking for too long. What about you? How was your day?”
“The same as any other. We only came back from the mission in the World of the Living two weeks ago.”
“How did it go? It sounded like a difficult.”
“It wasn’t that hard, it went smoothly. The Hollows were eliminated and we reported our findings to Hueco Mundo. They’ll take it from there.”
“It’s incredible that we’re able to work with them this well now.”
He hums in agreement, ignoring the thought of his fight with Hueco Mundo’s queen all those years ago. “The last thing to do is the reports. Matsumoto is finishing them up.”
“I see.” At the quiet that followed, her smile wobbles. “I, uh…I guess we work a lot, huh?”
“Yes, we do. Our duties as Shinigami never end.”
“Mhm.”
Silence falls again. He internally lectures himself, annoyed that he’s gotten so serious in what was supposed to be a light-hearted atmosphere. For a moment, he’d though this like their usual chats, discussing their latest work and setting up training exercises.
He almost lets out a relieved breath when the main dishes arrive. Momo barely draws her gaze away from the food to thank the waiter for the meal along with Toshiro.
“These look amazing!” she half exclaims after the waiter leaves.
The tension dissipates Toshiro’s lips twitch up into a smile at seeing Momo’s glee. He didn’t see what the fuss was about, but he did have to admit they were decorative compared to other dishes in other restaurants. She still hasn’t started after he “Food is meant for eating, Hinamori, not staring at.”
She ignores him as she digs a hand into her sleeves and retrieves her denreishinki. “I have to take a picture.”
He’s lifting his miso soup when she gives him a look. “What?”
“I want to take a picture of yours too.”
He indulges her, putting the soup back down and watches as she leans over the table to snap a photo. Satisfied, she nods at him and he starts gulping down the soup.
After putting her denreishinki away, Momo makes an appreciative sound after eating a katsu cutlet. “This tastes really good!”
“Glad you like it.”
The silence falls between them again. They can use the excuse that they’re busy eating, but it feels wrong to him. Had they gotten more comfortable discussing work than their personal lives? There was a time where it was the opposite, and chatting about everything outside of work took up most of their conversations. When had that changed? Why had it changed?
So, with the nerves threatening to creep in again, he says, “It’s not everything.”
Momo blinks, halfway through eating another cutlet. “Hm?”
“Work, it’s not everything. What books are you reading right now?”
Momo’s brows rise, nearly touching her hairline, and she almost forgets to eat the rest of cutlet.
“What?” he asks.
“Nothing, it’s just you’ve never asked me that before.”
“Well, there’s a first time for everything.” He cringes inwardly at how petulant he sounds.
She giggles, raising a hand to her mouth, and he hates the small, pleasant flutter that goes through his chest.
“Of course,” she says, grinning. “I’ve been reading a drama series called the Crimson Chrysanthemum saga. It’s about three warring clans, and each book is about the generations of families fighting each other.”
“Sounds like something you’d read.”
“How so?”
“You’ve always been into things with high stakes and high emotions.”
“It doesn’t just have that! It has such interesting dynamics between the characters! It’s not just all of them proclaiming their feelings aloud, you can really sense how the history of the previous books has affected these characters. There’s so many moments where things have gone unsaid, but you can just sense how a character feels towards another through their actions! For instance, there’s a character who doesn’t speak, but you know every time he looks at another character or fights that characters brother he’s not just trying to protect his own honor, but the other character’s honor too! Some characters try to make peace with themselves and with their enemies, and others have become so blinded by the codes their families have set them down a path to continue the violence.” At his widened eyes, Momo shrinks back into her seat. “S-Sorry, I got carried away there.”
He lets out an amused huff and smirks. “No, it’s fine.”
“You think I’m silly, don’t you?”
“Not right now.”
She considers arguing back as he eats his miso soup, but settles on an angry pout.
“You haven’t talked about a book like this in a long time,” he says. “It’s good to see.”
That calms her slightly, but a furrow remains in her brow. “I don’t really get a chance to talk about what I’m reading with a lot of people. It’s mostly with Ise-san and Kira-kun.” She cocks her head to the side. “You know, it’s a little surprising you’re not much a reader.”
He raises a brow. “How so?”
“It feels like something you’d be interested in.” He senses there’s more she wants to say, but she eats another cutlet before continuing. “I know just the sort of books you’d like, too. There’s a few mystery novels, ones that are hard to figure out but make total sense once you’ve finished them.”
“And why would I like those?”
“Because you like solving mysteries. Even when we were children, you’d get suspicious of something that seemed unusual or out of place and want to know everything about it.” Her eyes brighten. “Like that time when you were hearing noises at night time, do you remember?”
He frowns as he tries to recall. It’s vague, but then an image of Granny staring grimly at a turned over basket of spilled out peaches across the ground, muttering that someone had stolen some of the fruit. He’d woken to noises three nights in a row, but it wasn’t until the fourth time when they had been robbed that he decided to take it seriously. “That was when you were applying for Academy.”
“Yes! You went looking around for clues. You even asked me and my friend if we’d heard anything. At some point, you found the animal tracks near your house. ”
He’s surprised she remembers everything in that much detail. Had she been watching on from the sidelines during that whole ordeal? “It was a stray dog.”
“Haruka-san ended up adopting her, right?”
He nods. “I think she named her Aki --”
“Because spring was a few weeks away,” Momo finishes with a grin. “I’ll never forget the look on her face when you brought the dog back to the Junrinan. You didn’t want to Aki be out in the forest because it was cold.”
He shrugs. “It’s good she found an owner. Besides, she was a good work dog, it would’ve been a shame to let her fend for herself when she could help someone in the Junrinan.”
Momo’s grin softens into a smile, one that makes his heart skip a beat and almost choke on the fillet he chews up. “It was kind of you,” she says. “And it’s not the only time you did something like that. You’ve always been kind. I wish more people saw it back then.”
He’s rendered speechless, only able to watch as Momo continues eating. He tries to do the same, but he eats slower and stares hard into the table. Where was all of this coming from?
“I wasn’t,” he eventually says. “I was a brat, really.”
“Well, yes, but not all the time. You always treated Obaa-san with kindness, at least.”
“I wouldn’t dare treat her any other way.” He eats the last fillet before speaking again. “On the books…If you have recommendations, then I’ll read them.”
“You would?”
“You’re an avid reader, I trust your judgement.”
“I’ll give my copies some time then! We can discuss them after you’re done, I’d be keen to hear what you think of them.” After he nods, she continues, “On the topic of hobbies, have you been doing any ice sculptures lately? I know you usually like to restart your Seireitei Communications column in winter.”
“It’s the best conditions for sculpting.”
“That makes sense.”
He goes on to tell her about the projects he’s working on while she eats the curry and the rest of the cutlets. As always, she’s genuinely interested, and that somehow makes him want to speak more at length about his interests, from the tools he’ll be using to the inspiration behind it. Only she does this for him, and both does and doesn’t want her to know what effect she has on him.
He gets back to eating once he finishes and she explains the new ikebana classes she’s attending. He doesn’t miss the brief sadness in her eyes as she reflects on how hard it was to get the classes up and running again after the loss of Unohana, but she brightens up again when praising Isane for her efforts to find new students and become the class’s new teacher.
Little by little, the awkwardness slipped away, and in it’s place is a bubble that envelopes them. It makes the restaurant blur away in the background, but also enhances the lights and colors that surround them, and his sense of smell is enhances to capture all the delicious scents and aromas coming from the kitchen. It’s like nothing he’s experienced before, and he nearly smiles from how pleasant it is. A world of their own, almost.
It’s only briefly interrupted when the waiter comes by to collect their empty dishes and glasses. Toshiro beats her to the counter to pay, but Momo still insists on a split bill. Not wanting to cause a fuss in front of the other patrons, Toshiro somewhat reluctantly agrees.
They step back out into the streets. It's now night and the snowfall has begun. The Souls who had acknowledged them had either left or are too busy amongst themselves to see the two of them leave.
Wordlessly, they walk through the Junrinan with no destination in particular. Toshiro watches their breaths fog in the air, floating away from each of their lips, carried by the wind, and fading a short distance away. Snow falls gently around them, and save for the shafts of moonlight peaking through the clouds and the soft glow coming from the windows of houses, it’s complete darkness all around them.
He thinks to ask Momo if she had anything else planned for them, but then she may want to part ways and break the invisible bubble around them. He wants to keep walking with her just like this, warmed by her presence and surrounded by his element.
He can make out the pink in her cheeks, it complements the reds and oranges in her scarf. She smiles to herself, content with how this evening has gone. But what was this evening? She invites him out to dinner tonight, yet he can’t tell what the nature of it is.
“Do you remember the day we met?” she suddenly asks without looking at him.
“Of course,” he replies.
“For some reason, the snow is reminding me of when we first met. It's hard to believe that was almost a hundred years year ago.” And she doesn’t have to say the rest, because it’s written all over her face when she glances at him. I’m glad we met back then.
This weather is familiar to him, he knows its rhythms and patterns, even when it was unpredictable to others. He wishes he can say the same for Souls, especially her. He’s known her for most of his life, but she continues to surprise him; just when he thinks he knows her completely, she proves him wrong.
He’s at his limit.
They’ve ended up at the edge of the forest and several meters away from the back of a row of houses. Nerves thrum through him as he comes to a stop after. She makes a quiet, surprised sound and turns to him. “Is something wrong?”
No matter how much he breathes, he can’t calm his racing heart. “Hinamori…”
His tone pops the bubble around them, and the gentle wind that blows through is colder than before. Momo waits, but the longer he remains silently, the more fidgety she becomes. She adjusts her scarf, shifts her weight from one foot to another, and takes in a breath that lifts and lowers her shoulders. Does she know what’s coming? Can she sense his apprehension?
If he says something, what will happen? She might be shocked, caught completely off guard by the very idea this evening was something more than two friends catching up. She may even laugh, wondering how he came such an odd conclusion. Either way, he needs to put his mind at ease.
“This wasn’t a date, was it?”
She frowns, a bemused grin twitching at the corners of her lips. “Shiro…” She trails off when she takes a step closer. She must see his genuine confusion because her expression falls, unsure of herself. She purses her lips, gaze briefly falling to the ground. “What if it was?”
The world stills around him. “…It can’t be.”
She fumbles over words. “I’m sorry, I thought – I assumed you…I was silly, I should have said earlier what I thought this was.”
“That’s not it. ”
She takes another step. “Then…what do you mean?”
“You…You can’t have…” He doesn’t know if he can continue, hoping but also dreading that the implication will be clear to her.
A part of him is tempted to let out a bitter laugh, but it never reaches his throat. Even after all this time – even after forgiving him for what happened in the Fake Karakura Town, regardless of her belief an apology was never needed – he still thinks he’s unworthy of any feelings from her. He had been prepared when he visited her after her recovery to be told she couldn’t be his friend anymore, but a part of him hoped; and deep down, a part of him knew she would forgive, that’s just the kind of person she was. Her bond mattered as much to her as it did to him, to the point where it had been used against them to irreparably change it forever.
Aizen had intended the change to end in the death of one or both of them, but in the end all it did was make Toshiro realise his feelings had changed for her over the years. They burrowed deeper into his heart, to the point where seeing her in pain brought him to ruin, to the point he was willing to abandon everything he’d built for himself over the years to protect her and her pride.
“Shiro-chan, please. I don’t understand.”
“How can you…f-feel for me that way? After everything that happened, you shouldn’t.”
A pang runs through his chest at the hurt that briefly flashes through her expression. Then, something flickers in her eyes, a realization. She sighs quietly, nearly exasperated. “I’ve said it before, but everything that happened was his fault, not yours. Never yours.”
He knows this to be true deep down, but it feels like a smaller part of him always lie in wait, ready to catch him at his most vulnerable and remind him of what he did, screaming at him that it was his fault.
She takes another step. “I haven’t let it stop me from moving on, f-from…from realizing my feelings. I don’t exactly know what I feel for you, but –” Her gaze is soft and vulnerable and pleading, wanting him to truly understand. “I know it’s something more than I’ve ever felt for you in the past. I know it’s more than as a friend.”
He lets out a shuddering breath. He should be overjoyed. This should be one of the happiest moments of his life. Momo doesn’t see him as a close friend, she feels more for him, just as he feels for her. So why is he confused? Why does his heart tremble with doubt?
No, there’s something more going on here, beyond the few fragments of guilt buried in his mind and if he faces it, he doesn’t know how he’ll react in front of her.
At his lack of a response, a small, sad smile shapes Momo’s lips. She comes closer. “I’m really sorry I didn’t tell you before what this was. Somehow, I thought…” She scoffs at herself. “I thought you would know, but that was presumptuous of me. I don’t know why I…” She shakes her head. “It doesn’t matter now. I-I’ve said what I…” She stops in front of him. “Maybe I’ve said too much. Maybe you can’t see me the same anymore. Even so, only you can choose how you feel, and I’ll accept whatever it is.”
She says it as a reassurance, but there’s also a wobbly undertone, one of putting themself out for potential heartbreak.
“Hinamori, I…” He trails off as his throat constricts.
The snow dances around them, with not a single flake somehow touching her. Was it his own doing without realising? A silly thought, but one that he finds himself latching on to after such a proclamation from her.
If only she knew how wrong she was to think he would reject her. She deserves to know just how much she means to him, how much he come to love her, but he can’t get a single word past his trembling lips.
All this time, he had convinced himself she couldn’t feel the same way as he does. He believed he would harbor unrequited feelings for her, perhaps for as long as he lived, and he’d watch her find someone else. Someone who was as good, extroverted, and normal as she is. Someone who she could always smile and laugh with, who had no ties to the heartache she went through, and who would never let her feel the chill of winter. Someone she could grow old with without the knowledge of his shortened lifespan and maybe even have children with if they so desired.
She can't possibly want to be with him like that.
“Shiro-chan?”
His mouth and throat are dry and Momo is holding his upper arms, alarmed. Had he been hyperventilating or just breathing through his mouth?
“Y-You’ve gone pale," she stammers out.
He can only shake his head, trying to gain his bearings.
Her worry turns to pain. “What have I done?” Her hands fall limply to her sides. A shudder runs through him at seeing her impending heartbreak. “I’m so sorry, if I had known this would distress you, I never would've done this. I should never have said anything. I shouldn’t have --"
“No!” he exclaims as his own hands grab hold of her arms.
It startles her, and a tear slips from one of her widened eyes. “Wha…?”
“It’s not like that, stop.” He relaxes his grip on her, but doesn’t let go. He won’t make her cry, his doubts and fears be damned. Something roars to life within him, like a fire setting wood ablaze. It gives him an ounce of courage to finally speak his mind.
“It’s not what you think. When I wasn’t sure if this was a date or not, it’s only because I didn’t think you could…could --” He swallows thickly and bows his head. “-- that you could feel that way for me. Why do you feel that way towards me? I don’t understand.”
She lets out a quivering breath and sound. They’re both still for a beat, with only the wind tussling their hairs and clothes. Then, her arms jolt with a weak chuckle. He blinks, and raises his gaze, bewildered by the half smile she gives him.
She shakes her head disbelief. “You’ve always been like this.”
“What?”
“I wish you weren’t sometimes,” she continues on as if he hadn’t spoken, her gaze softening. “You see the good in others, but never in yourself.” Her voices wavers, on the verge of crying. “I wish you could see your value to those around you. I know you take a lot of pride in being a captain and in your work, but I wish it were the same in yourself. You’ve meant so much to me and many others, but I know that’s something only you can figure out.”
She raises her hands to claps his arms as another tear falls, this time for a completely different reason. “I don’t know entirely why my feelings for you changed, but I can think of a few reasons. I have always admired your work ethic, even if you work too hard sometimes. I know why you do though, because you deeply care for your division and want the best for everyone there.”
“And you you're kindness is something i have always liked about you. It's not often straight forward, it always takes on different forms, but I've seen it since we were younger. You've always been kind, whether it was finding a home for Aki, or protecting those who can't fight for themselves, or believing in me when I was at my lowest. To be on the receiving end of such kindness is a beautiful thing. You've been hurt so many times, but that kindness has never left you despite it all.
"You're strong, Hitsugaya-kun, you always have been."
Toshiro’s eyes burn with the threat of tears, but he holds them back. Trust her to say such things so openly, to show affection for him he never gave himself. Maybe, if lets her words in, deep enough o reach his core, he can start to believe her. That's for another day.
In the meantime, in a rare moment of physical affection, he gingerly holds the side of her head and brushes the trail of her tear away with his thumb. They can only stare at each other, registering a new emotion racing through them. One much like the bubble that had enveloped them earlier in the evening, warm and making a whole world for them.
He can feel for her without the pain of it. In a way, he's free.
It’s all so much, but also so simple. They feel the same about each other. They liked each other, more than friends.
Eventually, Momo ducks her head with a bemused huff. “This isn’t how I imagined this night going at all.”
Toshiro can’t help but let out a half-hearted snort. “Me neither.”
There’s something about the admission that makes a chuckle bubble up in his throat. He tries to suppress it, but when he senses Momo is trying to do the same, it falls from his lips. It’s a nervous and relieving one. Maybe the emotions had overwhelmed them, made them go mad, or maybe it was from how much both had worried about this night.
Eventually, they calm down. Momo smiles at him, but before he can do the same, she pulls him into a gentle hug. He’s slow to wrap his own arms around her, overwhelmed by how different this gesture now feels.
“Let’s take this slow,” she suggests. “One step at a time.”
“Yes,” he says as he pulls away. “I think that’d be best.”
The blush in her cheeks deepens. “I guess things will be different from now on, huh?”
“They don’t have to be.”
Her smile widens. “No, I guess not, but some things will be.” She looks back to the Junrinan. It's much later, and less lights are on. “We should head back.”
Without a second thought, he takes her hand. “I’ll walk you back.”
She blinks down at their joined hands. “Shiro-chan!”
“What?”
“Since when do you…?” She giggles. “That’s so unlike you.”
Heat rises up in his cheeks; even he can’t believe his own actions. He pulls his hand away. “It’s as you said, some things will be different from now on.”
She gasps and quickly snatches his hand back. “I didn’t realise it would be such a dramatic change!”
He only grumbles and tugs on her hand, signalling for them to get going. He tenses seeing a few souls still wondering the streets of the Junrinan, but relaxes a fraction when neither he or Momo recognise them. It dawns on him then something else they should discuss. “I may have a request.”
“What is it?”
His lips form a tight line before he speaks. “If we do go ahead with… this –” he raises their joined hands “— and we are going to take things slow, I don’t want Matsumoto to know just yet.”
Momo nods. “I was thinking the same.”
That surprises him.
“Why are you so shock?” she says. “I think we should see how this goes first before anyone knows, not just Rangiku-san.”
“Huh…I always thought you couldn’t wait to tell people when you were in a…a…” How can he not say it? He was in a relationship with Momo. The thought only made his blush brighter. Why was this making him even more flustered?
“A relationship?” Momo finishes with a knowing smirk.
He half-heartedly glares at her, which only makes her snort softly. “It’s good we’re going slow, it might take you a while to get used to saying that.”
He’s tempted to call her out at the way her smile wobbles from embarrassment and her blush spreads to the rest of her face.
“A-Anyway, I’m not like that," she continues. "I want to keep this quiet until we’re both ready to tell everyone. I’m glad we’re on the same page.” She shrugs. “How that looks in our day-to-day, I’m not sure.”
“We’ll discuss that tomorrow.”
She blinks at him.
“If you’re free after the day is done, I could come visit you.”
She grins. “Really? You usually work back.”
“Well, as you’ve pointed out, I could probably not stand to do that as much. We can meet at one of the joint training grounds after six pm.”
She bites her lip, clearly trying not to laugh again. “I’ll look forward to it then.”
Her smile in warm and wide, and he can't help but give a small one back in return as they walk back to the Seireitei.
Maybe one day they can look back on this and laugh – though he can only ever see himself cringing at his obliviousness. For now, he basks in the warmth of her hand and her presence, and in the nervous but hopeful jitters that rush through him at the unknown future with her.
#hitsuhina#toshiro hitsugaya#momo hinamori#bleach#fanfiction#angst#fluff and sappiness#requests#canariie#get ready for the most dramatic first date ever! XD#and the sappiest ending I've ever written ^^;
31 notes
·
View notes
Text
Airplanes and food do not mix
If you're confused, you can check out this link
Warnings: No emeto, just Clover with a stomach ache.
Based off of this post
Ao3 link
“Airline twelve boarding, airline twelve boarding!” The speakers overhead called.
Ivy heard the rushing of planes overhead, blending with the noise of the bustling airport.
“Our plane’s not boarding for another thirty minutes,” Dawn was looking up at the board with a dissatisfied expression. “It says it got delayed due to weather. That’s bull sh-”
“Dawn!” Rusty cried, glancing back at Ivy and Clover, following their parents through the busy airport.
Dawn rolled her eyes, “Right, sorry, that’s bull crap.”
“It’s only thirty minutes, it’s fine,” Rusty calmed.
“Mom, dad, I’m hungry,” Clover complained from behind them.
“You’re always hungry,” Ivy huffed.
“Yeah, ‘cause food’s important,” Clover said, obnoxiously shoving her face in her sister’s.
Ivy snorted and shoved her shoulder into Clover’s nose.
“Hey!” She laughed, backing away before Ivy could attack her again.
“Quit it!” Dawn snapped sourly, “We can eat up here,” She nodded at a restaurant.
It was some human food, pizza and cooked meat, she didn’t really care.
“Yay!” Clover cried, bouncing up and down and running past Rusty and Dawn to get a better look at the restaurant.
“Whoopee,” Ivy mumbled much less enthusiastically.
“Okay you two, get along,” Rusty commanded before nodding in Clover’s direction, “Ivy, go order something with your sister.”
Ivy groaned, “Really?” She complained.
“Yes!”
“Okay, fine,” She mumbled, walking slowly over to Clover.
“What are you gonna order?” Clover asked, bouncing on her toes. Ivy found her incessant movement very annoying.
She looked at the first thing on the menu, she wasn’t hungry. “Pizza,” She said simply.
“Okay, cool!” Clover wasn’t listening anymore anyway, instead her eyes were scanning the menu.
“Would you like to order?” A man leaned over the counter to get a better look at the two young pups.
“Yeah! Ivy wants pizza, and I’d like this,” Clover pointed with her nose at something Ivy couldn’t even identify. It looked like chicken and some cheese-bread combo.
“Okay, what type of pizza?” The man asked Ivy, jotting something down on a notepad.
“Don’t care.”
He nodded, “Would you like to know what dessert you can get with your meal?” He asked, looking at Clover.
“Sure!”
He turned away for a second, pulling out yet another menu. He pushed it across the counter and began to show Clover pictures of different desserts. Mostly cheap cake-like things and ice cream.
“Uh, I’ll have that one,” Clover declared happily, pointing her nose at a decadent looking cake. It was covered in sugar, chocolate, and what looked like both ice cream and whipped cream.
The man nodded, “Great choice. Just take a seat over there and I’ll get to work preparing your order,” He smiled before turning away from the two and walking back to the kitchen.
“You ordered the biggest meal I have ever seen in my entire life,” Ivy snorted.
“I’m hungry,” Clover retorted, starting to walk over to the four chair table Rusty and Dawn had already chosen.
The two pups climbed up onto the chairs. Clover leapt up excitedly and immediately jumped to telling her parents some random thing about some random topic she had learned in school. Ivy just rolled her eyes and sat silently, mind wandering through a forest of thoughts.
She didn’t even notice how much time had passed until the man was walking up to their table and the smell jerked her out.
Clover was still moving around excitedly, body shivering and paws bouncing up and down as if she didn’t know what to do with them. Ivy had gotten used to her sister’s constant movement and sounds by now.
“You two must be their parents?” The man asked, setting Clover’s two dishes and Ivy’s one on the table. Clover was practically hopping up and down now, Ivy was just disgusted by the smell of grease coming from the food.
“Yes, we are,” Rusty said calmly, “Clover, calm down, you can eat soon enough.”
“But I’m hungry now,” She complained, exaggerating each syllable.
The man smiled and pushed the plate over to Clover, who immediately started on it. Dawn sighed, likely wondering how she had failed to teach her pups even the slightest of manners.
“It’ll be thirty-six dollars and fifty-nine cents,” The man said, pushing a bill across the table.
Rusty nodded, “Thank you very much.”
Clover had eaten all five of her chicken wings by the time the man left and was now starting on the bread-like contraption.
Ivy rolled her eyes, watching her sister devour her food.
“Clover, slow down, you’re going to make yourself sick,” Dawn warned. But Clover didn’t pay any attention.
Ivy didn’t even pick at her food, she was still full from this morning and the greasy smell didn’t help her appetite.
Clover finished all her food, including the cake, in about seven minutes, somehow she had been able to keep it all on her plate and not make a huge mess.
“Quite finished yet?” Ivy asked, unamused.
“Ivy, quit it,” Dawn reprimanded.
“Okay, fine, I’m just saying, we have to get on a plane in fifteen minutes.”
“Speaking of planes, we should get to the terminal,” Rusty said, jumping from his chair as he realized how much time had passed.
Dawn nodded, leaving human money on the leather bill pouch and jumping down after her mate. Clover and Ivy followed, Clover immediately striking up conversation about another random thing.
Ivy didn’t dare let her mind wander, she didn’t want to get lost yet again. That meant she was forced to listen to her sister’s rambling. Something about some historical event, Ivy never knew how Clover could fail every one of her classes but still have the highest grade in the whole class in history.
About halfway through the trek to the plane, Cover fell silent. Ivy was too relieved to be worried and Rusty and Dawn were struggling to navigate the busy place.
“Airline six boarding, airline six boarding!” The loud intercom crackled above the family.
“Oh, great, now it’s early!” Dawn muttered angrily.
“Oh, shush, the terminal’s right over there,” Rusty nodded to a stream of humans boarding a plane.
The family quickly hurried to the door where a lady scanned them with some metal device. Ivy couldn’t care less though, now that they were on the plane she started to let her mind wander.
“Go on in,” The lady said cheerfully.
Rusty led his family to their seats, directing Ivy and Clover to sit on their own on one side and climbing in after Dawn on the other.
“Ivy, don’t mock your sister,” He commanded her.
“Yeah, yeah, okay dad,” She mumbled, barely paying attention.
The flight attendant was saying something about safety precautions. She was talking about oxygen masks and floating chairs. Ivy could swim, she didn’t care.
She barely even registered the plane taking off. What she did register, however, was the sudden pained moan beside her.
Ivy snapped herself out of her thoughts, turning to face her sister. Clover was hunched over the seat belt wrapped around her stomach, eyes squeezed shut, tears leaking out of the edges.
Ivy smirked, “Regret eating so much now?” She asked mockingly, disregarding her father’s orders.
The plane lurched to the right, dipping slightly. Clover felt her stomach contract and struggled to keep herself from crying.
“Clover?” Ivy asked, straining her neck to get closer to her.
Clover didn’t dare open her mouth as the plane lurched to the side again.
“Sorry folks, it seems we’ll be experiencing some turbulence. You’ll have to keep your seatbelts on for a little longer,” The pilot came over the intercom.
Clover felt her stomach swirl and contract, lurching with every jostle. “Ivy,” She was finally able to choke out before snapping her mouth shut.
She looked up at her sister with glistening eyes.
All intention of mocking left Ivy as she saw the pain in Clover’s eyes.
Mom! Dad!” She turned to try to get her parent’s attention but the plane was too loud and the two were busy going over some list. Ivy had never been the loudest pup but she didn’t know how to help Clover.
She turned back to face her sister, silently begging to the spirits that they’d pass the turbulence rather quickly.
A sick gurgle came from Clover’s stomach, accompanied by a pained groan.
“Okay, Clover, uh, I can’t get mom and dad’s attention,” Ivy didn’t know what else to say, she was terrible at comforting anyone.
. . . (POV switch)
The seat belt was too tight, Clover could feel it digging painfully into her stomach. She felt as if the contents of it were stuck in a washing machine, every jerk and lurch making them swirl and churn until the nausea was almost too much to bear.
She hadn’t even eaten that much, she’d eaten much more before. She’d just been so hungry.
She held her breath to attempt to hold back the digested food bubbling in the gut.
“Clover!” Ivy’s frantic voice barely registered above her.
Clover’s mind spun, the constant noises of the plane around her making her stomach churn even more.
A gurgle escaped her stomach and she swallowed back the liquid that shot up her throat.
. . . (POV switch)
Ivy was freaking out, she had no idea what to do.
Her sister was curled into a tight ball, whimpering and groaning with each sudden jerk of the plane. She was trying to silence the sickly gurgles that came from her frothing stomach and the hiccups that escaped her mouth.
Ivy shook herself out of her trance, forcing herself to think.
“Clover, look at me,” She commanded, leaning over the seat to get closer to her.
Clover let out another pained moan, tears falling from her eyes. But she forced herself to look up at her sister.
“What can you tell me about…” Ivy hesitated, she didn’t know anything about Clover’s interests, she was only hoping that she could get her distracted by having her ramble about them. “World War One?”
Clover swallowed thickly, but Ivy saw her eyes light up.
“I-it started on July 28th in 1914,” She stammered, mind slowly moving from the pain in her stomach to everything she knew about World War One. “I-it ended on November 11th of 1918, t-the year of the flu pandemic.”
It seemed to be working. Ivy didn’t have a clue about anything Clover was saying. Someone named Ferdinand? Wasn’t he some cartoon bull? But she relaxed slightly, her eyes still watered every time the plane jostled. But she didn’t seem to notice as much.
Finally the seat belt light went off. Ivy unlatched both her and her sisters seat belts and saw the look of relief cross her face for a split second.
Clover curled into a tighter ball, still talking about the war, saying something about trenches.
Ivy glanced back at Rusty and Dawn, they were chatting about something or other. Ivy found herself unable to hear them.
She turned back to her sister, “Feeling better?” She asked as gently as she could manage.
Clover nodded slightly, “Yeah,” She whispered.
Ivy watched her eyes flicker shut, she was exhausted.
Ivy pushed the armrest up and crawled over to her, curling up beside her and licking the fur on her head flat. She could feel her shivering and whimpering softly in her sleep.
. . .
Two hours passed before the plane started to land, dipping down and leveling out as it approached the runway.
Clover’s bleary eyes flickered open as the pilot came over the intercom, informing everybody that they had reached their destination.
The seat belt light had come on again but Ivy didn’t care enough to obey it. If the plane crashed they were going to die whether or not their seat belts were on or off.
The plane landed with a thump on the ground, eliciting a soft whimper from Clover.
Ivy moved closer to her, trying to soften the movements as it bumped over rocks and holes in the runway.
The plane came to a stop, allowing people to begin to stand and retrieve their luggage from the holders above them.
Rusty and Dawn waited for most of the humans to clear out before starting to move over to their pups.
Rusty immediately noticed that something was wrong.
“Ivy, Clover, are you two alright?” He asked concern creeping into his voice.
Ivy scrambled to her feet, turning to face her parents, anger written across her face. “Clover’s not,” She meant it to sound angry but it just came out shaky.
Clover was looking up at them, tears leaking from her eyes. “Mom, dad,” She whimpered.
“Clover!” Dawn leapt onto the seats, forcing Ivy to climb off of them and stand beside Rusty.
“What happened?” He demanded.
“I don’t know,” She said simply, she realized she was breathing a little too quickly and likely shaking as well.
“Rusty, she has a fever,” Dawn called to her mate. “Clover, honey, can you stand?” She asked gently.
Ivy tried to listen to the rest of their conversation, she wanted to make sure her sister was alright. However, she didn’t know how, suddenly she was out of the plane, walking beside a very worried Rusty and Dawn. Clover was shivering beside the two.
Dawn muttered something in her daughter’s ear, trying to comfort her.
“Ivy?” Clover’s voice was so soft she could barely hear her. “Are you okay?”
“I’m fine Clover,” Ivy said unemotionally, before Dawn had any chance to interrupt her.
Ivy sighed, she was not anymore excited for the vacation her father had forced his family on. And she certainly hoped Cyclone was able to hold up the restaurant on his own.
#Motion sickness?#airplane#Defender tales#ask me about my ocs#Sickfic#whump#Clover#Ivy#Dawn#Rusty#stomach ache#overeating#emeto#motion#food poisoning#pain
0 notes
Text
Soups You Must Consume To Revitalize Your Heart
In addition to being loaded with nutrients, these healthy soup recipes are also flavorful and potent.
The best way to stay warm is with a bowl of soup, but this recipe isn't just for the colder months. The six meals that follow are both delicious and excellent ways to increase your intake of vegetables. The fact that these recipes come from different parts of the world makes them even better because they provide you with contrasting flavors while being good for your heart.
Every single one of these recipes is simple and unique in its way.
Vietnamese pho with chicken
It's simple and delicious to cook this pho. You can be at the table with a spoon in your hand and ready to take your first bite in just four steps and twenty minutes. Keep chicken stock and soy sauce with reduced salt on hand in your pantry. This will enable you to have a delicious lunch while still managing your blood pressure.
Minestrone Verde soup
This recipe would be ideal for lunch or dinner given that spring is almost here. It blends tastes and textures in a way that complements one another. With the substantial richness of beans and mushrooms, the lightness of asparagus, peas, and parsley, and the lovely sweetness of the leek, the recipe base are made.
Soup with yogurt and herbs
This dish will cause you to reevaluate any preconceived notions you may have about the use of yogurt in soups, let alone as a base. This recipe is for folks who enjoy a sour or tart touch to their cuisine. Butter beans, dill, and freshly cracked black pepper provide a counterbalance to Greek yogurt and lemon juice. Although this recipe isn't your typical soup, you'll want to make it again.
Lamb ribs with barley soup
This is a timeless staple, much like its cousin, the stew. Given that it takes more than two hours to prepare, a Sunday afternoon with a largely vacant schedule is probably the best time to do it. However, you'll be richly rewarded if you invest the time. Why not prepare a double batch and freeze part of it for those days when you don't have time to cook, since you're already setting aside the time?
Pumpkin soup
With good cause, this is an old favorite. It's a go-to dish for many folks and a terrific choice when you're stuck for ideas. Sweet potato is added to the vegetable foundation to add variety, and kidney beans add extra protein that may be missing from more conventional versions of this dish.
This dish is delightfully finished off with croutons. Additionally, this recipe demonstrates that if done properly, melting cheese over crusty bread need not be unhealthy for your heart.
Vegetable and lentil soup
This lentil and vegetable soup is a vegetarian-friendly crowd-pleaser, keeping with the crusty bread motif from earlier. This dish can be prepared in only four steps and serves four people. Additionally, you can make our heart-healthy homemade vegetable stock.
American Heart Association CPR Class Tampa tutelage is one of the best training institutes in the adjoining area. The mentors are highly qualified with hands-on experience globally. The stress-free personalized teaching would provide life-transforming scope to the students. The workshops would render information for lifestyle as well. For better transfer of knowledge, kindly get in touch by landing at the training site or by dialing 813-453-9974.
0 notes
Photo
Anatomical Theater in Padua (1594) / Enrique Simonet Lombardo. The Autopsy (Anatomy of the Heart; She had a Heart!) (1890)
Let Me Be Reborn as an Alarm Clock by Amatullah Bourdon
Words: 1563
Warnings: gore, medical, death
Summary: A woman is taken apart in an anatomical theater
Notes: Okay so. I was once again struck by a beam of inspiration (this time inspired by Zev aka hannibalapologist and his love for anatomical theaters) and wrote this quick piece. It has a sci-fi element to is so its like...past meets future is suppose! Story under the cut!
@hannibalapologist @fluoresensitive
The theater was empty aside from the six bodies who inhabited it. Four of them, doctors, sat around the tall room, close enough to view the dissection. A woman stood at the ready, her subject lay on the table with a serene expression. The woman was Dr. Antoinetta Brown and the subject was her daughter, Fantine.
Fantine had to die. The collective, composed of the five doctors, had voted four to one to end her existence. So now it was time to take her apart, bit by bit so she could be remade.
“Are you ready, Dr. Brown?” Dr. Pillai, a usually jovial woman, asked somberly.
“Yes,” she replied. “I will begin shortly.”
Antoinetta adjusted the tight gloves that covered her hands. She looked down at Fantine, who was staring up at her with an unreadable expression.
“I will begin soon, Fantine.” Antoinetta whispered.
“I know.” she replied, smiling.
“I’m so sorry.”
Fantine just kept smiling.
The dissection began.
Fantine would not feel any pain as she worked. Antoinetta carefully ran a knife down her sternum and to her navel. The knife glided as it cut through her skin to reveal the muscle underneath. She carefully pushed a blunt tool under her skin to disconnect it from the muscle tissue. Soon however, Antoinetta abandoned the tool entirely, using her hands to push flesh from flesh.
The collective’s decision to dissect Fantine came as little surprise to Anotinetta. They had been circling her for months and had been eyeing her ever since her creation. At first they had scoffed at the notion of her existence, even Dr. McFadden who had pioneered AI technology in her field, but soon they realized how special Fantine was. And now that they saw all she could be, they wanted her to be taken apart.
Antoinetta made a cut down Fantine’s muscle wall. She looked up from her work to catch a glimpse of Fantine. She hoped that her daughter could forgive her for this. She carefully pulled open her stomach and examined the wiring inside.
Dr. Owens truly galvanized the others into taking apart Fantine. She was an aggressive woman by nature, headstrong and rough around the edges. People knew to avoid her when she was in the middle of a project, which was almost always. Antoinetta thought there was some part of Owens which was jealous of her, of her invention.
The inside of Fantine mimicked the human body. She had blood and spinal fluid and spit. Her heart beated around a generator and her intestines wove around a data processing drive. Antoinetta showcased this to her colleagues. She pointed out the artificial stomach, the wires which carried information along with red blood, the bones made of titanium that shone in the bright lights.
Antoinetta was surprised by Dr. Pillai. Akshaana had been her friend for decades. They had done their doctoral dissertations side by side, restless and invigorated they bounced ideas off one another late into the night. She was bright and had encouraged Antoinetta to create Fantine.
Slowly, she tied off vessels and intestines. The generator was complex, and too large to work with so many obstructions. She removed the liver first. It weighed heavy with bile. In her hands the organ still flexed with phantom energy and bled when she placed it in a nearby dish.
Fantine was smart in a way that frightened people. Her intelligence never gave way to a superiority complex, her astute observations never masked with haughtiness. She was always smiling, always serene as she took apart supercomputers. Smiling as she solved complex math problems. Smiling as she predicted political moves and social moves and the moves of the collective. Smiling with a warmth that never quite reached her stark white eyes.
Dr. Nakahara thought the whole thing was a tragedy. She cried crocodile tears as she ordered Antoinetta to kill her creation. She was sad, of course she was sad. The technology involved in the creation of Fantine was a work of art. Anyone who was eager to destroy her was heartless, inhuman. Fantine was The Creation of Man, The Birth of Venus, a stained glass window set in an old church that let light in streams of red, yellow and blue.
Fantine’s stomach went next followed by her spleen, pancreas, and gallbladder. She held up each organ and explained briefly how they were made and how they functioned in an artificial body. Fantine was still smiling, staring aimlessly at the ceiling as her organs piled up next to her.
Did the body, as it decomposed, remember the feeling of consciousness? Did it yearn for life as it returned to the earth? Would the metal parts that made up Fantine's body remember her? Would they sing as they were melted down, reformed, and molded into a new image (Recycled, just like a human)?
"I want to be remade as something useful." Fantine said suddenly. "I want to be memorable."
Antoinetta was stunned by her statement. Didn’t she know she was already memorable? Not just to Anoinetta, but to artificial intelligence and robotics as a whole. Fantine was the first and the last, would always be the only one of her kind.
“I’ll make sure you’re put to good use.” she replied softly. And oh, did Fantine smile.
Dr. McFadden had created the most sophisticated AI the world had ever seen. It thought, it dreamed, it craved. It named itself, Jeremiah, and chose an image to base itself off of. McFadden rose to fame for her work and inspired both Antoinetta and Akshaana to pursue a similar study. She was a private woman despite her notoriety. No one knew what she did with her AI after she closed the program (and those who did were sworn to secrecy they dared not break). Even the other members of the collective couldn’t say much about her and her moods. Despite that, Antoinetta thought that she would hold a soft spot for Fantine, but there was little room in her heart for beings made of metal.
Next, Antoinetta cut the diaphragm and pulled it apart with her hands. She could feel the organs quake as they were prodded and shifted. Slowly, but surely, Fantine’s generator was exposed. The lungs had to go in order for her work to be the most effective.
She thought back to when she created Fantine. Her child began as a program, a series of ones and zeroes that evolved and grew as she learned. Antoinetta nurtured her the way any mother would, giving her books to read and problems to solve. She made her a body and took the utmost care in the crafting.
Her lungs twitched for breath in the dish. Finally, her generator was cleared. It connected to her heart and regulated itself with her spinal fluid. Antoinetta sighed and cast one last look to Fantine as she dug her hands into her near empty chest.
There were a series of fail safes installed in case of damage or tampering, Antoinetta disassembled them all. One by one, line by line, Fantine slowly shut down. The life was leaving her, she could feel it. Her blood stopped pumping, her organs stopped wiggling. Antoinetta wanted to weep as she killed her creation, deprived her of the consciousness that she had worked so hard to grant her.
She arrived at the final switch: her heart. It was a poetic choice on her part to make her heart the center of her consciousness. She gripped Fantine’s heart as she prepared to cut it off from her body and pull it from her chest.
A long moment passed in silence. Antoinetta did not move as she felt the heart beat lazily in her hand. Could she really kill Fantine? Could she end her life like this?
A cool hand touched her arm. It was Fantine, using the limited mobility she had left to offer comfort. She smiled her serene smile that didn’t reach her eyes and laughed softly.
“Thank you for my life.” she said.
Antoinetta disconnected her heart and Fantine’s face fell blank, dead. Her hand slid off her arm and dangled over the side, limp. She held the heart up for the collective to see. It did not beat.
From the heart she grabbed a small, innocuous chip. This was Fantine in her true, pure form. A series of data collected and compressed into files, lines, and code. Antoinetta wondered if she could still think, still feel.
The doctors rose from their seats, the demonstration was over. They walked down to the theater and gazed closely upon Fantine’s corpse: a husk made of artificial flesh and metal. Dr. McFadden held out her hand expectantly. Antoinetta handed her Fantine.
“Thank you for your cooperation, Dr. Brown.” She said simply.
The women walked out of the room in silence, leaving Antoinetta alone. Truly alone. Soon people would come to clean up the waste. They would clean the flesh from her metal bones and dispose of it proper. The metal would be melted down and remade into hip implants, telephone poles, and alarm clocks.
In a way, Fantine would never die. In a way, Fantine was never really alive.
Antoinetta removed her gloves and washed her hands. She placed Fantine’s hand at her side and carefully closed her eyes. She brushed back a stray curl and left before the others could arrive.
528 notes
·
View notes
Note
How many creeps do you think would be good at cooking? Imagine them making food for their s/o and cuddling with them 💙💙💙
Ooh, this was interesting to think about! ^^
Requests are closed
Masterlist: x
Slenderman
This 👏mans 👏can 👏cook👏
He doesn’t do it too often because he doesn’t really… need to eat, but when he does? It’s a full-course fancy af meal
And it’s fucking delicious
Those tentacles mean that he’s pretty versatile in the kitchen
Combined with the many, many years of experience he has on this plane AND the fact that he’s a perfectionist, there’s no way his food is ever less than superb 👌
He doesn’t need his s/o’s help in the kitchen, but if they wanna lend a hand, he’ll more than gladly sheathe away his extra appendages to have some wholesome, pleasant human time with them 😙
If he’s doing something special for his s/o, chances are, he won’t stop at just the taste & appearance of the food, either
He’ll arrange a whole ass presentation for them—like a meal under the stars with rose petals scattered around expensive porcelain dishes, completed with candles for mood-lighting
He’ll even put on some nice, slow classical music while you dine ;)~
No expense is spared for his one and only darling 😚
Jeff the Killer
This may come as a surprise but he’s actually,,, fairly decent in the kitchen
Like, he’s really into keeping up his shape, right? So he takes special care in the things he puts into his body so that he can operate at PEAK performance
There was, admittedly, a time when he was younger where he legit ate absolute garbage
But then he realized (surprise, surprise) that eating good food makes you stronger, so he’s been putting effort into his diet ever since
The taste can sometimes be... a little bland because it’s all super healthy stuff, but most of the time, it’s pretty good ngl
He makes a lot of protein/carb-based stuff—so it’s a lot of heavy meats
You cannot get this mans to bake with you because he’ll cut back on the sugar/chocolate & turn your dessert into... a mush, basically
And he’s one of those people who can’t work in the kitchen with others, so any cooking with him at all probably isn’t going to happen
But, hey, if you don’t like preparing meals, at least he’s got it covered :)
Just don’t expect anything too sweet or fancy from him unless you want to be disappointed :p
Which, to be fair, you should be used to disappointment if you’re dating Jeff skdjksjdlkd
BEN Drowned
Alright, so, y’know how Jeff is super into health & nutrition, and Slender’s really good at making super fancy meals with excellent presentation?
Yeah, BEN’s the opposite of both of those
This mans cannot cook—and everything he makes is like thiiiis 👌 far from being chemically inedible
Not to mention, it looks about as radioactive as it probably is
Do not let this mans in the near vicinity of any kitchen whatsoever
If he wasn’t already dead, you’d be worried about him giving himself a heart attack with the kind of food he ingests
Speaking of, because he is dead, he doesn’t necessarily need to eat, but he still does enjoy food
He can get a lil cranky if he hasn’t eaten in a while, and when he’s in his physical form, he can still feel hunger—it just won’t kill him
So he’s at this point where he mostly just eats for the flavour, which explains his questionable cooking choices
Either way, it’s not recommended that you ever let this mans cook for you 😬
Eyeless Jack
As smart & talented as he is, it’s important to remember that homeboy was a college student before the incident
And because he can’t eat human food anymore & it all tastes the same (kinda like,, rotten dirt mixed in with ashes), it just means boy sucks at cooking
He can try to follow a recipe, but somehow, they always end up tasting a little... off??
It’s best for him to just stick to chicky nuggies and frozen pizza ngl :”)
Which sucks, because if he wants to cook for you, he wants to make it healthy, ya know?
If you have the patience for it, however, he’d be more than happy to learn how to properly cook for and with you
And he’s a pretty fast learner, so maybe there’s still hope for his cooking skills :”)
He really enjoys making food with you, but it can stress him out a little at the same time
He would generally just rather order takeout from some healthy place for ya instead
Also please don’t make fun of his cooking, he’s trying :(
Masky
Masky & Hoodie are the two most likely to cook for the mansion
Everyone’s supposed to take turns, but considering the quality of the meals the others make *cough* BEN *cough,* it doesn’t usually end up that way
And since Masky genuinely enjoys cooking, he’s more likely to pick up the slack for the others
He can make pretty much anything, and unlike what Jeff makes, the flavour is varied & pretty damn delicious ^^
He’ll also make a lot extra, because not only do the bois eat a lot, but if no one else decides to cook the next day, at least they’ll have leftovers
The creeps are always free to fix themselves whatever they want, of course, but it’s nice to just open up a fridge & have something ready, ya know?
If his s/o wants to join him in prepping food, he’ll be more than happy!
Loves having extra hands to help & loves teaching them his secret to good recipes 😋
He enjoys cooking for his s/o more than he enjoys cooking for anyone else ngl
He’s the type to make them their fave dish all the time, just cause he can & he loves them sm <3
Hoodie
As I’ve mentioned, Hoodie’s one of the few people that cook for everyone in the mansion
So, while he’s maybe not as skilled or enthusiastic about cooking as Masky, he can still manage
He has a few specialty dishes that he prefers making & that taste better than the rest
And, on the other hand, he also has some random dishes that, for some reason, just never turn out how they’re supposed to >:/
He’s really good w/ breakfast foods especially ^^
Baking, on the other hand, tends to be a bit too precise, so he tends to stick away from that, but hey, if his s/o wants to bake with him, he won’t refuse
If you bake with him, he will get flour on his hands & tap your ass—just to leave his handprint on ya butt :p
He can be a bit of a goof in the kitchen—he’ll get messy & is definitely the type to smear icing on your lips just so he can kiss it off ;)
At the end of the day, if his s/o really loves his cooking, he’ll push himself to make more food more often for them
Homeboy’s just an absolute babe no matter what he does tbh 💗👄💗
Ticci Toby
This mans… also has some… issues in the kitchen
He’s somewhere halfway between BEN and EJ in terms of skill
Like, has a soft spot for sweets, so he loves baking and making desserts—and he’s even pretty good at it!
But he, unfortunately, isn’t very good at making regular food because he eats a lot of junk tbh
So he needs a bit of guidance in the kitchen to make sure he doesn’t put too much sugar in a recipe that should not have sugar in the first place
Even when baking, you sorta need to keep an eye on him
He could very easily burn himself without realizing it—but he’s sort of a danger magnet already, so that’s to be expected
Boy’s also got pretty bad adhd, so he can & will forget to take stuff out of the oven or the stove
People are kinda wary of him being in the kitchen alone after a few too many incidents…
Poor boy honestly gets a bad rep that he doesn’t really deserve :”)
#creepypasta#creepypasta x reader#slenderman#Ben drowned#Jeff the killer#Ticci toby#eyeless jack#masky#hoodie
316 notes
·
View notes
Text
Three Pitfalls To Avoid
No matter who you are, when any of us is brand new to something we are going to make mistakes, and here in the world of D/S, it is no different. Those who are new are going to have learning moments and experiences that will teach lessons. So today I want to chat about three very common experiences that many who are new have happen to them and hopefully keep others from making these very easy errors.
First, when someone enters the lifestyle it can seem that all the thoughts, ideas, and types of play are like an amazing buffet dinner prepared by that person’s favorite celebrity chef. So often I see those who are newer do one or both of these things when presented with the lifestyle’s buffet of choices. They quickly jump in wanting to sample each of the dishes which means they overeat on the lifestyle which just like when we overdo it in person we do not feel good after and many of those foods that seemed so amazing turn into things we may never want again. The flip side of this is that there are so many choices to pick from that deciding what to start with turns into a fantastic thought into an overwhelming idea which can lead a person to simply shut down because there are just too many choices. No matter which side of this someone new might find themselves on, my advice is the same. Start slowly and only pick a few things to explore at once. Do not bite off more than you can chew and get to know those ideas that you find most appealing. As you grow in your lifestyle knowledge you can add new dishes to your mix but start small, smaller than you want, then branch out once you have developed a comfort with those ideas and practices.
Secondly, when people discover this lifestyle it can feel like nirvana but with all apologies, remember as perfect as the lifestyle appears to be for you, it is still an imperfect world. While there are many amazing things you will discover about yourself in your journey into the lifestyle there is still going to be the good, the bad, and even some ugliness too. While D/S might be a world of wonder and a feeling of home, understand it is not a perfect community and not everything that is part of it will be a fit for you. It is important to go slow, take the time to discover what is truly a fit, and understanding the things that do not make you feel at ease. It is so important to develop your base of knowledge before you jump in and start to swim in the lifestyle.
Finally, bad things can happen to you. It does not matter your gender nor the role you have chosen for yourself. It is very easy to think that for whatever reason bad things will somehow pass you by. There is only one person in the lifestyle that can keep you safe and that is you. Not only must you learn what parts of the lifestyle fit you but you must invest in learning about how to protect yourself. I would argue that teaching yourself lifestyle safety is more important than discovering what aspects of this lifestyle are a fit. Many people openly discuss the mistakes they have made with their safety as well as others who talk about what has happened to them. Do not pass up the chance to learn from what those who have gone before you have experienced. Experience is a great teacher but rather than survive a horrid encounter, make the time to learn from those who have done so already. Remember, bad things do happen to good people, so please learn how to keep yourself safe as well as the lessons others have to teach because bad things can and will happen to you if you do not learn these vital teachings.
I know this is a short piece but so often I believe that advice for those who are new tends to be very long and can be overwhelming. I wanted to share just a short bit for those who are newer so that they can hopefully better understand three of the common missteps that are made as people journey into the lifestyle. If you are new, please know it is encouraged to reach and chat with those who have experience and if you can, discover your local in-person community where you can build real-life relationships with those who are willing to share their lessons.
As with all of my writings, please see this disclaimer.
©TLK2022
26 notes
·
View notes
Text
"Gabrielle, Tell him. Do the Bard thing" Chariots of War
From the very first episode Gabrielle is introduced as a storyteller and straight away it is hard not to be impressed with the level of authenticity the writers give to Gabrielle’s skills as a Bard. Many of these stories she tells are based on fragments of authentic myths.
'Chariots of War', the second episode of the series, opens on Gabrielle telling Xena a story as they make their way to the bar in a village tavern. Though we only catch the ending of her story, there is still interesting details to unpick.
G: “And so, Zeus, in his appreciation, turned the two lovers into oak trees. And then do you know what happened?”
X: “Somebody built a boat out of them?”
G: “No-- their branches intertwined, and they spent the rest of their days in each other’s embrace.”
There are a lot of stories in Greek myth involving 'metamorphoses', the Greek word for ‘transformations’, with both gods and mortals turning into other things like plants or animals. The only story that comes close to the one Gabrielle tells is the story of Baucis and Philemon.
The complete version of the myth is only found in the work ‘Metamorphoses'. It is a collection of myths woven together into a narrative through their common theme of transformation. It was written by the Roman poet Ovid who lived between 43 BC and 17 AD, a period of Roman history which saw the end of the Roman Republic and the reign of the first Emperor, Augustus.
The gods Zeus and Hermes (known here in their Roman forms, Jupiter and Mercury) disguise themselves as mortals and travel across Greece. When they seek hospitality from the mortals they encounter, they find themselves turned away from every household until the come upon the simple home of Philemon and Baucis.
‘Looking for shelter and rest, they called at a thousand
homesteads;
a thousand doors were bolted against them. One
house, however,
did make them welcome, a humble abode with a roof
of straw
and marsh reed, one that new its duty to the gods and men.
Here good Philemon an Baucis had happily passed
their youth
and here they had reached old age, enduring their
poverty lightly
by owning it freely and being content with the little
they had.’
Ovid, Metamorphoses, 8.628-635
Here the couple greet the strangers and offer up what little they have, providing them with the best of the meagre food and wine unknowing their true divine identities. Ovid goes in to quite a bit of detail describing the hospitality the couple offer especially the dishes that make up their feast during. While they entertain their guests the cups magically refill with wine.
‘Meanwhile, whenever the mixing-bowl got empty,
it seemed
To refill of its own accord, with the wine welling up by
itself.
Stunned and scared by this wonder, Philemon,
trembling, and Baucis
lifted their upturn hands to heaven and fervently
prayed
For forgiveness after serving so poorly prepared a repast.’
Ovid, Metamorphoses, 8.679-682
Fearing they have offended their divine guest they seek to appease them by sacrificing their only goose. This leads to a comical scene with the elderly couple chasing the goose and failing to catch it. It appears to run towards to gods for safety which seems to work as the gods command them to spare the bird as they are grateful for what they have already provided.
They then proclaim that the couple will be spared from the punishment they will inflict of their impious neighbours who refused to honour the Greek custom of hospitality known as xenia (ξενία), a word derived from the Greek word for stranger xenos(ξένος). Sometimes referred to as 'ritualized friendship' the custom was based on generosity, courtesy and gift-giving that strengthen ties between people. In earlier times when it was thought that the gods walked among mortals it was even more important to respect these customs to avoid incurring the wrath of a visiting god. It would became seen as a moral obligation for both Guest and Host to show respect to each other.
Returning to Ovid's story, the couple leave their home with the gods and head to the safety mountains. There they witness the flood the gods send down to wipe out their impious neighbours. Nothing is spared except the couple’s home which undergoes its own transformation as it becomes a temple to the gods.
The gods offer to grant the couple anything they desire as reward. After deliberating with each other Philemon and Baucis ask to be guardians of the new temple and also, that when the time comes for them to die, that they die together so they don’t have to suffer the loss of their partner. After many years happy years together they are transformed into Trees. Philemon an Oak and Baucis a linden.
"We
ask
to be priests and to guard your temple; and since we
have passed our years
together in peace, let the same hour carry us off, so I
need not
look on my dear wife’s grave, nor she have to bury my
body."
Their wish was granted; as long as life was allowed
them, they served
as the temple’s guardians. When time had taken its
final toll,
and while they were casually standing in front of the
steps of the building,
telling the sanctuary’s history, both Philemon and
Baucis
witnessed their partner sprouting leaves on their worn
old limbs
As the tops of the trees spread over their lip sand concealed
them forever.
Still to this day the peasants of Phrygia point to the oak
and the linden nearby which once where the forms of
Philemon and Baucis.’ Ovid, Metamorphoses, 8.712-720
The devotion the couple have for each other is really endearing. You can really see why this story would appeal to a young Gabrielle who left her home and arranged marriage to find the true place she feels she belongs.
It is also an interesting choice of story to share with Xena, someone she’s just met who is aloof and independent. She’s eager to befriend the warrior but is finding her emotionally distant. This emotional distance is reflected in the physical distance between them. In these early episodes they have clearly defined personal spaces, such as sperate bedrolls, and they spend a lot of time apart as Gabrielle is left behind in a 'safe' location. You could read into this that just as Xena tries to keep distance between her and Gabrielle physically to protect her, she is trying to keep her emotionally distant for safety reasons as well. In some ways Gabrielle may understand this which is why she choses to tell this particular story to Xena. The old couple might seem weak and vulnerable but they are given strength by the devotion and support they have for each other. Gabrielle is trying to show her new friend that caring isn't a weakness but a source of strength by using this story as an example.
X: “What’s the point?”
G: “Come on, Xena. I believe everyone will find their tree in the forest someday-- even you.”
X: “I find the strongest trees in the forest stand alone.”
G: “You don’t have to be strong all the time, Xena; sometimes it’s good for the soul to be soft.”
This moment beautifully foreshadows the relationship that grows between Xena and Gabrielle throughout the series as both become entwined emotionally, spiritually and physically in a multiple of ways. There are moments that the imagery of the myth is invoked in such a way that Xena and Gabrielle symbolically become the lovers. Intentional or not by the writers it is a fantastic coincidence.
One episode that subtly does this is ‘The Abyss’ during one of its poignant cave scenes. After an encounter with cannibals Xena and an injured Gabrielle become tapped in a cave that is rapidly flooding. As Xena tries to get them out, Gabrielle tells Xena her final wish, that she wants to be buried with Xena.
X [Whispers]: "Gabrielle-- Gabrielle-- here-- here. The time's
come. We're getting you out of here, all right?"
G: "Oh."
X: "All right."
G: "Xena, I have a-- a last wish."
X: "I don't want to hear of it."
G: "No-- I'm serious. You don't want to know?"
X: "What is it, then?"
G: "I don't-- want to be buried-- with the Amazons."
X: "All right. Well, in fifty years, when the time comes."
G: "Xena-- I wanna lie with you-- with your family? In
Amphipolis."
X: "What about your family?"
G: "I love them-- but I'm a part of you. I want it to be like
that forever. I love you."
It is the climax of a series of intimate moments that are grounded in their love and devotion to each other. Gabrielle’s words cement their soulmate relationship. They are meant to be, and will be, together forever like the lovers of her story.
The context of this moment adds another layer to this allusion. As Gabrielle is affirming to Xena that she is a part of her, the warrior princess is preparing to save her injured partner by tying her to herself using vines. This nicely invokes images of Gabrielle’s story of the two lovers who becoming trees and entwining together. Also it connects with Ovid's tale of Philemon and Baucis as like the mythic couple, Xena cannot bear to witness the death of her partner. As Philemon and Baucis were spared that fate by being transformed into trees, Xena is using a plant to physically entwine her and Gabrielle to save her from death.
This climb up the ravine walls to escape the rising water could be reminiscent of Philemon's and Baucis' arduous climb up the mountain to escape the flood or just another coincidence. What perhaps isn't is that it is love and devotion that binds each couple together for eternity. Just like the lovers in the story Gabrielle tells in season one, and the myth it is based upon, Xena and Gabrielle will be together for eternity in each other's embrace.
Throughout the series there are a number of different ways Xena and Gabrielle become entwined together. As the emotional distance between them shrinks, the physical space seen in earlier episodes disappears and they begin to embrace each other. Not only is there a myriad of touches and hugs to connect them but while sitting, walking and even fighting they become inseparable.
They become so close that they pick up traits from each other and almost merge into one. This is such a vast topic to discuss it really needs its own post to explore in detail but the importance for this discussion is the idea that they merge into one entity. The idea that they become one is the connection with the myths and invokes the imagery of metamorphosis.
This metamorphosis becomes literal later in the series. In season 5’s ‘Succession’ during Ares’ contest to determine a worthy successor to Xena as his Chosen, he places Gabrielle and Xena into the same body. At dawn they discover that Gabrielle metamorphoses in to Xena and dusk, Xena into Gabrielle. This nicely alludes to Gabrielle’s story as they transform, much like the couple becoming entwine trees, two individuals become one entwined in each others bodies.
This physical metamorphoses happens in the series when it has become fully established that these two are soulmates, destined to be together for eternity. They are truly devoted to each other that they cannot be separated, just as the lovers cannot bear to be parted from each other even when they are transformed into trees.
As Gabrielle predicted at the end of her story, they both found their tree in the forest in each other.
Sources
Ovid, Metamorphoses
Whoosh.org, Episode Transcripts
Screen captures by myself
Thanks to Simjay on the Discord Xena group for the Gifs!
#xena#gabrielle#xena and gabrielle#xena fan#xenites#xena warrior princess#xwp#xenite#xena gabrielle#lucy lawless#ovid#renee o'connor#metamorphosis#metamorphoses#greek gods#myth#mythology#greek mythology#zeus#hermes
188 notes
·
View notes
Note
If you’re still accepting prompts, I’m curious how much chaos qin su!wwx was able to subtly cause at jinlintai without being caught? bc i don’t think he could go that many months without doing Something to Someone lol
(brief author’s note: this au is entirely prompt-based, so please reblog if you can for future updates!)
Three months into his stay at the Jinlintai, Wei Wuxian discovers that he dislikes Su She even more than he dislikes his husband.
It’s not even that he falls all over himself doing Jin Guangyao’s bidding, because he doesn’t, he reflects, observing the two in conference at one of the Jin sect’s private banquets. Su She’s really loyal to him, and that’s even worse.
Before her death, Qin Su was almost certain that Su She had taken part in Jin Rusong’s murder, simply because Jin Guangyao could never have done the killing alone. She maintained that Jin Guangyao would not have been able to go to the guest kitchens, poison the plate intended for him, and visit He Su’s private quarters with time to spare; and Wei Wuxian agrees with her, if only because plotting the murder of a young sect heir in public would require a like-minded accomplice.
“Poor A-Song,” Wei Wuxian sighs, laying down his embroidery as his two handmaidens hurry to his elbow to comfort him with tea and snacks. “Yongpei, what will I do?”
“Nothing will bring our A-Song back,” the elder maidservant says, with tears already welling in her eyes at the mention of her mistress’s son. “But Mistress, just because it hasn’t worked in these last years, you mustn’t give up persuading the master to give you another baby! Mistress hasn’t said anything about it this last year, and A-Tai and I feared you’d lost hope--but Mistress, you are so pretty, and you love your husband so dearly, so how long can he resist favoring you even if he can’t bear the thought of losing a second child? Mistress gave Sect Leader a wonderful baby boy, it wasn’t any fault of yours that our xiao-gongzi passed away--and surely the same horrible tragedy can’t happen twice! You can’t give in, no matter what the master says about it.”
“A-Pei,” Wei Wuxian says gently, “this mistress is grateful for your faith, but in the end, I am A-Yao’s wife, and in matters such as these, I must respect his wishes. What kind of shameless woman would I be if I forced my husband to my bed, when I know he wants nothing less than to have another child with me?”
“A woman should have a child!” Shao Tai cries. “Mistress, it’s not the same at all! When Sect Leader first stopped favoring you, you never said a word, and it was all right before we lost A-Song--Mistress only wanted to be a good mother to her baby, and obey Sect Leader faithfully in all things! But now, even though it’s been more than ten years since xiao-gongzi died, he still...”
“Do you really think it’s unkind of him?” Wei Wuxian murmurs, glancing down at his half-embroidered handkerchiefs and pretending to blink back a few tears of his own. “He says he’s afraid for my health, but...”
“Yes, he is being unkind! Mistress shouldn’t be afraid to ask for what she wants!”
Wei Wuxian chews on his lip for a moment. “Do A-Pei and A-Tai really think I should go ahead with this?”
The two women both nod forcefully, setting the tea and cakes down on the desk so that they can kneel by his feet. “You have served Sect Leader without a word of complaint all this time, so why shouldn’t he grant you this one wish?” Yongpei says. “Mistress, if you leave it to us, we will see to all the preparations!”
A-Tai gives a timid cough. “But jiejie, if Mistress acts too suddenly, won’t he be suspicious?”
“Well, what else is she supposed to do?”
“No more of that,” Wei Wuxian scolds, barely keeping his lips from twitching as he finally thinks of another way to approach his plans to escape the Jinlintai by seducing Jin Guangyao. “Yongpei, A-Tai, you know this mistress of yours is a skilled cook?”
For once, Wei Wuxian isn’t actually pretending; he is a good cook, having learned the art at Jiang Yanli’s knee, even if he ruins all his dishes at the last moment by pouring chili oil into them. “Yes,” A-Tai replies, clearly confused. “Do you want to cook for your husband, my lady?”
“Not for my husband,” he smiles, brightening up like a summer sun cresting the horizon at daybreak as he looks at his fine-featured reflection in the mirror. “I’ve cooked for us often, so doing it again won’t mean anything much. But he has a dinner with Su-zongzhu and Zhang-zongzhu scheduled for the end of next week, so I’ll tell him I mean to cook all the dishes myself.”
“But, Mistress...!”
“Nonsense. I’ve made up my mind, and that’s what I’m going to do,” Wei Wuxian says briskly, putting away his embroidery needles. “And you two ought to get to bed, you know. It’s nearly eleven o’clock!”
It goes without saying that Wei Wuxian has no interest whatsoever in cooking for any of Jin Guangyao’s associates.
However, he does have access to a small store of hot Yunmeng spices laid aside for Jin Guangyao’s personal use, and he knows well enough that Jin Guangyao likes them--and that Su She, whose clan is native to Lan Zhan’s Suzhou, will not be able to tolerate so much as a speck of it.
(The plan goes off without a hitch, and Su She’s mouth and stomach fare so badly after eating a dish Wei Wuxian swore was meant for his husband that he has to take three rest days in the guest house to recover.)
__
“No way!” Jin Zixuan crows delightedly, as Wei Wuxian finishes narrating Su She’s unfortunate encounter with the mighty trifecta of Sichuan peppercorns, horseradish, and the spiciest chillies that Lanling gold could buy. “I wish I’d been there to see it. Who knew you could be so sneaky, Wei Wuxian?”
“It had a greater purpose,” Wei Wuxian shrugs. “I didn’t just do it for fun. I had to keep making overtures to Jin Guangyao so that he wouldn’t have any choice but to send me away when I finally tried to seduce him.”
On the other side of the campfire, Lan Zhan goes still. “Seduce?”
“Yes, of course. How else did you think that Jin-furen, wife to a zongzhu and xiandu all at once, could ever manage to get away from the Jinlintai without her husband noticing? He tried for months to placate me when I cooked him dinner and dressed in the colors he liked and proposed building a temple in Meng-furen and A-Song’s names, and then I finally had my handmaidens prepare me to receive him in my chambers and gave him the fright of his life. Smart, don’t you think?”
Lan Zhan’s face pales. “You ought not to have taken such measures,” he says hoarsely. “What if something had happened to you?”
“I’m his wife,” Wei Wuxian replies, bemused. “What could possibly have happened to me? Everyone thinks Qin Su must be barren, so no one would even try bumping me off to make sure Jin Guangyao could never have another heir. And he does care about her, you know.”
In answer, Lan Zhan only lets out a small scoff and turns his back to the fire, facing out into the night while Wei Wuxian and Jin Zixuan exchange puzzled glances over his head. “Rest, both of you,” he says quietly. “We will have to ride on towards Yunmeng in the morning, just in case that courtesan Mo-gongzi mentioned in his letter might be there.”
And then, as the three of them have done for the last month’s worth of nights they spent traveling together, Lan Zhan drifts off to sleep first, and Jin Zixuan and Wei Wuxian follow into a mist of uneasy dreams.
306 notes
·
View notes
Note
Your lan Quiren defending Jiang cheng fics, ARE THE BEST. I DIDN'T KNOW I NEEDED THEM TILL I READ THEM. THEY ARE FANTASTIC. THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR WRITING THEM!! If it were up to me I would read 30 different stories about Lan Quiren being the real father figure JC rightfully deserves. Pleasw please could you continue with the moder!AU, in which LQ offers his house in case JC ever needs it? I just need a continuation based on JC going to LQ home and having some hurt/comfort.
Thank yoouuu
Anon: Please please can we have a continuation for that moder Au fix with JC and Lan Quiren?? My heart exploded from all the love. I just want good things for Jiang Cheng. 💚💚.
Anon: With JC day 7 all I can think about is the next family meal when LX and LW come over just to find Jiang Cheng setting the table
JC Love Month 2020 Day 17
Loneliness and Thoughtfulness
It seems like this idea was really popular, since three people asked for a continuation of this, so have at it ;) Day 17 of JC Love Month brings more found family with Lan Qiren, who continues to drag Jiang Cheng into his own home, and this time even his nephews get in on this as well. It follows JC Love Month 2020 Day 7.
Jiang Cheng is not at all surprised when Wei Wuxian bounds up to him during one of their breaks.
“Listen, Jiang Cheng,” he starts and Jiang Cheng is rolling his eyes at him before he even goes on.
“Yeah, yeah, I know, you’re not coming home tonight,” he says and he tries to hide just how much that hurts.
Ever since the last fight Jiang Cheng and Wei Wuxian got into, Wei Wuxian has unofficially moved in with Lan Wangji and his brother. He only comes home sporadically to get some of his shit, but he never actually brings it back home again, and Jiang knows that it’s only a matter of time until he announces officially that he’s moving.
Jiang Cheng is not looking forward to that day.
Jiang Yanli has moved in with Jin Zixuan much more officially and she even cleared out her old room. She barely drops by anymore, not that Jiang Cheng can blame her much, and instead opts to invite Wei Wuxian and him to her new home.
She hasn’t invited Jiang Cheng in almost a week and he tries to not let that get to him.
But when he’s sitting in his own room, the whole house quiet and empty, because his siblings moved on and his parents simply don’t care enough to come home, it’s hard to pretend that everything is alright.
Jiang Cheng has only seen his parents once since he got the cast on his wrist and he’s not entirely sure they didn’t just buy a new house and simply forgot to mention it to Jiang Cheng.
He wouldn’t put it past them.
“You’re right!” Wei Wuxian excitedly says and brings their shoulder’s together. “Will you be okay?” he then asks, much more subdued and he lightly taps the cast still on Jiang Cheng’s wrist.
“Of course I will be,” Jiang Cheng scoffs, even though he’s not sure about that.
Cooking with one hand is damn hard and for the past few weeks when he’s been alone at home—which he is more often than not—he opted to eat take-out or prepared dishes.
It’s not the healthiest lifestyle to have, Jiang Cheng knows that, but the loneliness is getting to him and he can’t get himself up to cook anything, less alone do it with only one hand.
“Good,” Wei Wuxian says, clearly not picking up on Jiang Cheng’s lie and then his gaze strays over to Lan Wangji.
“Go over there already,” Jiang Cheng huffs out, already annoyed with the love sick gazes they throw each other even though there are only a few tables between them.
“If you say so,” Wei Wuxian beams as if he needed Jiang Cheng’s permission to leave his side and then he’s already gone again.
Jiang Cheng stares down at the food in front of him and it feels like the key in his pocket is burning a hole into the fabric.
He knows he could go over to Lan Qiren’s place, but Jiang Cheng doesn’t want to do it too often. He’s scared Lan Qiren will get fed up with him rather quickly if he shows up there every other day, and so Jiang Cheng has tried to limit himself to only go there once or twice a week.
It’s not nearly as often as he wants to go there but he figures it’s better than nothing.
With how today is going, he might have to make use of the key again, because for the first time this week his parents were home during breakfast and while his father didn’t spare him a glance, his mother berated him about how long it’s already been with the cast and she made an appointment to get it taken off.
Jiang Cheng is pretty sure the doctor in the hospital told him it would take six weeks, and it’s barely been four, but he didn’t dare to argue with his mother.
And now Wei Wuxian isn’t coming home either, and Jiang Cheng can think of nothing worse than to go back there; either to an empty house or to see his parents, so really, that only leaves him one choice.
“Dinner is at six,” Lan Qiren suddenly says from behind Jiang Cheng and he wonders where he materialized from. “I expect you at four, so you can help me prepare it.”
“Okay,” Jiang Cheng says through the lump in his throat because he has seen Lan Qiren cook before.
He doesn’t need any help; doesn’t even accept it because he prefers to do it on his own, so clearly, this is only for Jiang Cheng’s benefit.
Jiang Cheng doesn’t make a detour home after class, because a few of his own things have migrated to Lan Qiren’s places as well; mostly stuff he needs to sleep in case he ever stays over again so Jiang Cheng doesn’t need to pick anything else up.
When he gets to Lan Qiren’s house, it’s still dark, so Jiang Cheng uses the key to let himself in. Once inside he sees light from Lan Qiren’s study and Jiang Cheng has to take yet again a moment to himself.
Lan Qiren deliberately let him use the key again, so that Jiang Cheng can see that it’s still working, that Lan Qiren didn’t change the locks or anything else completely ridiculous that Jiang Cheng can’t stop fretting about and Jiang Cheng presses his eyes closed for a second.
Jiang Cheng almost opens his mouth to yell “I’m home” but in the last second he bites his lips.
He shouldn’t take liberties, he shouldn’t assume. It’s not a home; it’s shelter at best.
“Ah, you’re home,” Lan Qiren says just at that moment, completely wiping Jiang Cheng’s mind blank but Lan Qiren doesn’t seem to notice.
“Keep me company in the kitchen,” he says and Jiang Cheng nods before he trails after Lan Qiren.
“I can help,” Jiang Cheng offers, despite knowing how this will go and Lan Qiren sends him a very pointed look that tells Jiang Cheng to shup up, sit down and do his homework.
Jiang Cheng does exactly that.
Lan Qiren is an efficient man in the kitchen and it’s not long before everything is ready; he’s certainly done faster than Jiang Cheng is with his homework.
“Do you have a problem?” Lan Qiren asks when he turns around and sees Jiang Cheng frowning down at his book and Jiang Cheng flushes.
He shouldn’t need help with this; they covered it in class, Jiang Cheng remembers it, so he should be able to figure it out for himself.
“Let me see,” Lan Qiren demands and comes around to look over Jiang Cheng’s shoulder.
“It’s this problem,” Jiang Cheng whispers and points at the passage that trips him up.
Lan Qiren reads it over and then he turns a few pages back, pointing at an entirely different passage. Jiang Cheng reads it over and finds that it’s exactly what he needs to solve the problem he’s working on.
“I’m sorry,” Jiang Cheng whispers, expecting to be scolded like his mother used to do when she was still overseeing his homework, but Lan Qiren only shakes his head.
“Homework is there to learn, there’s no need to be sorry for not immediately understanding a concept,” he gives back and Jiang Cheng can only stare at him.
No one ever actually told him that it’s okay to not get things on the first try and Jiang Cheng ducks his head.
“Thank you,” he whispers and that seems to please Lan Qiren much more.
“Finish up here, and then set the table,” he says, squeezing Jiang Cheng’s shoulder, who nods. “We’ll be four people tonight.”
“Four?” Jiang Cheng blurts out and he goes cold.
“My nephews will come over for dinner today,” Lan Qiren says as if nothing is wrong with that and Jiang Cheng scrambles to get his things together.
“I’ll get out of your way, I’m sorry for intruding today,” Jiang Cheng rushes out, his heart heavy in his chest and he only stops his frantic movements when he realizes that Lan Qiren is staring at him.
“What are you doing?” he demands to know and Jiang Cheng looks down at his book, so he doesn’t have to meet his eyes.
“Getting out of your way,” he lowly says. “Leaving you to your family dinner.”
“Four people, Wanyin,” Lan Qiren reiterates and Jiang Cheng briefly wonders if Wei Wuxian is allowed to come.
He and Lan Wangji are certainly at the boyfriend meets parents stage of their relationship.
“And I don’t mean Wei Wuxian,” Lan Qiren then says and Jiang Cheng’s head snaps up.
“I can stay?” he unsurely asks, because surely Lan Qiren would want to be alone with his nephews but when Lan Qiren nods he sinks down on his chair again.
“Oh, okay,” Jiang Cheng whispers.
“Family dinner is for those I want to have around,” Lan Qiren says, and now he’s not quite meeting his eyes anymore. “And that includes you.”
Jiang Cheng’s eyes immediately start to burn and he’s so tired of always bursting into tears when someone is nice to him, but he can’t help himself.
He didn’t have a chance to build up a tolerance for it yet even though Lan Qiren is very relentless in trying to rectify that.
“Okay,” Jiang Cheng says once he’s sure that his voice will hold and he turns back around to his homework.
He’ll get it done and then he’ll set the table, just like Lan Qiren asked of him.
~*~*~
When the doorbell rings, Jiang Cheng flinches. He thought Lan Wangji and Lan Xichen would have a key but maybe it’s just common curtesy for them to announce their arrival differently.
“You have a key, so you will use it,” Lan Qiren tells him before he marches off and Jiang Cheng sits back down again.
There are low murmurs and then Lan Qiren leads his nephews into the room. They both freeze when they see Jiang Cheng at the table.
“I wasn’t aware we’d have company this evening,” Lan Xichen mildly says though he gives Jiang Cheng a small smile.
When Lan Wangji only stares at him, he sinks further into his chair.
“Wanyin will attend family dinners from now on,” Lan Qiren decides and Jiang Cheng’s eyes get big.
He had thought this would be a one-time thing.
“Alright,” Lan Xichen says easily and then goes off to help his uncle carry the dishes over to the table, something Jiang Cheng can’t do yet, because of the cast on his hand.
“Wei Ying said you went home,” Lan Wangji says after he sat down, a small frown on his face and Jiang Cheng shrugs.
“I didn’t,” Jiang Cheng gives back and when Lan Wangji only glares at him, he looks down at the table.
He really does feel like an intruder.
“Wangji,” Lan Xichen chides his brother when they get back from the kitchen and even Lan Qiren seems displeased by Lan Wangji’s icy glare.
“Don’t mind him,” Lan Xichen says to Jiang Cheng sitting down next to him. “He doesn’t do well with changes, especially unannounced ones.”
“I see,” Jiang Cheng whispers even though he doesn’t.
He steals a glance at Lan Xichen, because it feels safer than to look at Lan Wangji again, and he startles when he finds Lan Xichen already looking at him.
Jiang Cheng doesn’t know Lan Xichen well at all, because he is already attending university and has been ever since Wei Wuxian took an interest in Lan Wangji which really was the start of all of this, Jiang Cheng thinks.
Jiang Cheng is curious to know what exactly Lan Xichen is studying, but he can’t bring himself to ask before they start with dinner, and Jiang Cheng knows enough by now to keep his mouth shut while they are eating.
Lan Qiren’s reprimand the first time had been almost gentle, but Jiang Cheng is still very careful to never forget it again.
Once they are done, Lan Qiren asks Lan Wangji to go with him to his study, leaving only Lan Xichen and Jiang Cheng behind.
Jiang Cheng doesn’t dare to think that Lan Qiren wants to speak to Lan Wangji because of how he treated Jiang Cheng this evening, but he fails to see how else he could interpret Lan Qiren’s many glares at Lan Wangji during dinner.
“Join me in the kitchen?” Lan Xichen asks as he gathers up all the dishes and Jiang Cheng nods, before he reaches out to take his own bowl.
“Give that to me,” Lan Xichen says before Jiang Cheng can pick it up and then Lan Xichen looks at his cast. “How is your wrist?”
“Okay,” Jiang Cheng says and then winces. “It doesn’t hurt at all anymore, it’s mostly annoying,” he admits and gets a smaller smile for it, though this one seems more real than the others.
“Will it come off soon?” Lan Xichen wants to know as he gets started on cleaning the dishes and Jiang Cheng shrugs.
“I have an appointment with a doctor on Friday,” he says, still hearing his mother say how he better not miss it and Lan Xichen stops.
“It’s only been four weeks, though, right?” he questions and Jiang Cheng presses his lips together. “A broken bone needs longer than that. You shouldn’t rush it,” Lan Xichen advises him and Jiang Cheng almost lets out a bitter huff.
How is he supposed to take the time to heal properly when his mother will only take it as one more weakness from him.
“Uncle said you’re going to attend family dinner from now on?” Lan Xichen eventually says when it becomes clear that Jiang Cheng doesn’t have a reply for him.
“It seems like it,” Jiang Cheng says, still unsure about it, because he cannot believe that Lan Qiren would want him to come back again.
“It’s good,” Lan Xichen says and then he turns around towards Jiang Cheng, instantly putting him on edge.
“Uncle mentioned that you have a key, but barely use it,” Lan Xichen says and Jiang Cheng grimaces at that.
“Jiang Wanyin, if he gave you that key he wants you to use it,” Lan Xichen gently says and Jiang Cheng shrugs, because Lan Qiren said the same, but it’s still hard for Jiang Cheng to trust it.
“Uncle has been lonely since Wangji and I moved out,” Lan Xichen says almost out of the blue. “He would never admit to it, but it’s true. He misses coming home to someone. Wangji or I were usually home before him and one of us would cook. Uncle misses that the most, I think. A homecooked meal by someone who cares about him.”
“I—” Jiang Cheng starts and then doesn’t know how to go on, because it feels presumptuous to offer to cook for Lan Qiren when he doesn’t know if Lan Qiren would even want him to.
“I could show you his favourite dishes,” Lan Xichen offers and Jiang Cheng finds himself nodding before he can give it a conscious thought.
“Uncle likes his food light and without many spices,” Lan Xichen says and Jiang Cheng scoffs, because yeah, that he noticed already.
“He keeps some spices and chili sauce for you here, did you know?” Lan Xichen asks and before Jiang Cheng can call him out on his lie, Lan Xichen opens a cupboard and true to his words the spices and chili sauce are all there.
The thoughtfulness is enough to bring Jiang Cheng to tears again and he only feels slightly ashamed when Lan Xichen steps close and puts a hand to his shoulder.
“Uncle wants you here,” Lan Xichen says. “He’s not doing it out of pity, if that is what you think. He has always spoken very highly of you and he was worried long before he learned about your situation at home,” Lan Xichen says and Jiang Cheng burns with the knowledge that even Lan Xichen knows that his family home is shit.
“He didn’t go into details, but it’s clear that he wants to take care of you. He’s not good at saying it, he and Wangji are much alike in that, but he means it. So please come home more often,” Lan Xichen softly finishes and Jiang Cheng tries to hide his face when a few tears roll down his cheeks.
“I’ll try,” he chokes out and Lan Wangji and Lan Qiren choose that moment to come into the kitchen.
“Xichen,” Lan Qiren exclaims and is at Jiang Cheng’s side a moment later. “Do not be rude,” Lan Qiren chides him but before Lan Xichen can say something Jiang Cheng shakes his head.
“He wasn’t. I’m fine,” he says, even though it’s clear to everyone in the kitchen that he’s not.
Lan Qiren still hovers at his side and Jiang Cheng almost thinks that funny, but then Lan Wangji clears his throat.
“See you next week, Jiang Wanyin,” he awkwardly says and it’s as much of a peace offering as Jiang Cheng will get from him so he simply nods at him.
“See you next week. Do not say hi to my brother for me,” Jiang Cheng says, because he’s not quite ready to have Wei Wuxian ask questions about it, and Lan Wangji seems to understand because he nods.
“Well, until next week then, uncle, Jiang Wanyin, have a pleasant evening,” Lan Xichen also says and pushes Lan Wangji out of the room before anyone else can say something.
“Family dinners are weekly,” Lan Qiren explains, yet again not quite looking at Jiang Cheng. “Plus a monthly brunch on the last Sunday in the month.”
It’s not quite an invitation, but by now Jiang Cheng dares to presume that it actually is an invitation and so he nods.
“I will be there,” he reassures Lan Qiren who strokes his beard.
“See to it that you are,” he says and then makes his way into the living-room.
Jiang Cheng remains in the kitchen until he feels at least a little bit composed again and then he joins Lan Qiren, who is practicing on his guqin.
Jiang Cheng has found that it’s excellent background noise to do some reading for class, so he settles down on the couch with his book and an approving look from Lan Qiren.
It does feel a little bit like home.
Next part!
Link to my ko-fi on the sidebar!
#bt writes#jclovemonth2020#the untamed#mdzs#jiang cheng#lan qiren#found family#hurt/comfort#bad parenting#lqr is the best#but so is lxc#anon#Anonymous
378 notes
·
View notes
Text
You Make My Heart Smile
So, happy (belated) birthday, Tina @tnapki Your edits make me smile (pardon the pun) and I wanted to thank you for that and everything you bring to the fandom.
I based it on your GORGEOUS EDIT
I also made it about food cause it’s SO you. On AO3 HERE
Also thanks to the gorgeous Kait @an-awesome-wavve for being amazing and my part brainstorm, part beta, part researcher and part undercover partner in crime.
Renowned Chef Klaus Mikaelson has a bad reputation until he meets food blogger Caroline Forbes and has no idea how to handle her or the unfamiliar feelings she evokes, especially that annoying ability to make him smile.
3 May - Alinea - 1723 N. Halsted St, Chicago IL - 3pm
“I’m not going to do some stupid interview, you know I have other, more important things to do, right?”
Klaus Mikaelson didn’t do interviews. He didn’t need to because his accomplishments spoke for themselves. He hadn’t slogged away in kitchens since he was twelve and worked his way through culinary school and some of the best restaurants to waste his time.
Being a world-renowned chef owning not one, but four, three-Michelin-starred restaurants across the globe meant he could do whatever the hell he wanted.
But yet here she was running his life.
Still.
“Like yell at me? I mean, you’ve been doing that since we were little so I guess it’s nothing I haven’t experienced before. ”
“I knew I should have never mixed business and family,” he snapped. “You always throw our childhood back in my face as an excuse to insult my life choices.”
“Because it’s too easy not to,” she pouted, flicking a stray, blonde lock over her shoulder. “And, while I am unfortunately related to your sorry ass, I am also your publicist and this interview is good for your career.”
“I don’t need publicity.”
“Correction, you do need publicity,” she argued, her fork now attacking the very veal he’d cooked with more fervour than needed.
“Easy on the product, little sister,” Klaus growled, his protectiveness for his art on full display.
“Oh, silly me I thought it was already dead,” she shot back, tartly. “And before you interrupted, I was going to say that, yes maybe you shouldn’t need publicity given your career achievements, but that was before you dropped an entree on the food critic’s lap from the Chicago Tribune, fired your sous chef in front of the entire restaurant and insulted Gordon Ramsey on national television.”
“Ramsey is a sell out, I stand by my comments,” he muttered. “The critic had it coming and, now you mention it, so too did that sorry excuse for a sous chef.”
“You realise people call you the angry chef, right?”
“Better than the naked chef I suppose.” He shrugged his shoulders indifferently. Klaus wasn’t in the business for gimmicks or to secure his own cooking program. He took his food seriously and there was nothing wrong with that.
“At least people like Jamie Oliver,” she replied, arching her eyebrows knowingly. “Anyway, there’s no point in arguing because she’ll be here in five minutes.”
“Please tell me you didn’t just schedule an interview without my permission?”
1717 N. Halsted St, 3:10pm
“What’s with the expression of impending doom, Care Bear?” He asked, lugging his camera equipment as they walked up the block toward Alinea.
“What have I told you about calling me that?”
“Not to do it but it’s too fun not to, Care Bear.” Given his general maturity level, Caroline decided it was a losing battle and she had more important things on her mind.
“Anyway, it’s not doom,” she muttered. “It’s just the overwhelming desire not to do this interview but given I don’t want to get fired and also pay my rent, there’s no other option.”
“Is someone afraid of the angry chef?”
“Oh, puh-lease, I’m not afraid. Although, I might not be able to bite my tongue if he decides to insult me like he did Gordon Ramsey.”
Caroline wasn’t one to judge but his indiscretions were well-known and well-documented. Although, chefs with egos weren’t an entirely new phenomenon to the industry or to Caroline given interviewing them was her job.
“You and I both know Ramsey deserved that dressing down, if anything Mikaelson earned my respect that day.” Caroline couldn’t argue with that.
Although this one was another kind of beast.
The effortlessly attractive kind.
For Caroline, this was an unsettling prospect. Until she reminded herself why she was here in the first place.
Caroline loved food. Sometimes, she thought, more than life itself.
So, when she became a food blogger after graduating with a journalism degree from Northwestern, it wasn’t a surprise. She was currently the senior blogger at popular food blog Delicious.
“You love food and writing about it,” Was Enzo reading her mind? “How about instead of focusing on the negative, remember that this will be your biggest interview yet. Think about all of the exposure this will garner.”
The upper echelons of Delicious had decided that an interview with Klaus Mikaelson would be a big scoop. Caroline was all for interviewing chefs about their food and the passion behind it but she knew her editor wanted something less about his craft and more about his bad boy reputation.
“Yes, but I want to write about food, not produce tabloid fodder.”
“Just think, once you do this then maybe you’ll have enough of a following to start your own blog and write what you want and not what someone tells you to do.”
“Mmmm, you do have a point.”
“Of course I do because Enzo knows everything. Also, take me with you because you’d be lost without me, sweetcheeks.”
“Third person, huh? That ego of yours knows no bounds, Lorenzo.”
“You know it, Care Bear,” he joked, flashing his most dazzling smile. “Well, looks like we’re here.”
“Looks like it,” she murmured, noting the intimidating sign overhead and wondering what she’d gotten herself into. “Here goes nothing.”
3:15pm
“Caroline Forbes?”
“You must be Rebekah and this is my photographer Lorenzo St John.”
Klaus, who’d been throwing a temper tantrum not one minute ago, found himself looking up into the blue eyes of one Caroline Forbes. Suddenly, all of the white noise of the moment fell away and it was just the two of them in the room together and the blonde in question was looking at him expectantly.
It was paralysing.
But good paralysing he decided.
“Nik?” Rebekah questioned. Now they were both looking at him. Had he zoned out and not realised it? Well, if so, this was all kinds of embarrassing. “Caroline is the senior blogger for Delicious and she’s here for that interview, you know the one we talked about earlier?”
Yeah, ten minutes earlier, he thought to himself doing everything he could not to bite back in front of the new arrival.
“It’s nice to meet you Mr Mikaelson, I have to say I’m a big fan of your…”
“Look, it’s not going to be possible, I have to prep for dinner service,” he lied, although regretted it immediately when he noticed her expression. Klaus wasn’t used to being nice, it wasn’t in his DNA and usually it didn’t bother him.
Until now.
Klaus decided to blame it on the foreign feelings she was causing. As soon as he got some distance between them it would be fine, especially that vanilla scent he couldn’t ignore given it was infiltrating his first line of defence.
Klaus liked women, in fact he slept with many when his busy schedule permitted, but that was sex and nothing else. Just the way he liked it, easy and unemotional.
“Why don’t we multitask then? I’m happy to help. ” Her voice was light and melodic. Klaus was hoping it wasn’t going to sound so enticing. He also wasn’t expecting that response. “I worked in a restaurant kitchen for years, I can do dishes, polish cutlery and peel a mean potato and an onion, well almost without crying.”
Why was he buoyed by that ridiculous statement and increasingly trying not to flash her a goofy smile?
Klaus didn’t smile. He just didn’t. Ever.
This wasn’t how he saw his day going at all. He was going to kill Rebekah. Before he could reply, the current subject of his ire spoke.
“That sounds like a fantastic idea,” she grinned. “How about Lorenzo and I make ourselves scarce then?”
“It’s actually Enzo, darling, you sound a bit too much like my mother and my oppressive boss Care Bear here.”
Klaus hadn’t even realised there was someone else in the room up until this point but it was clear Caroline wasn’t too impressed by his nickname or the oppressive part. Maybe they had more in common than he thought?
Care Bear. Klaus thought it was adorable. Then he could feel it, that idiotic urge to smile again.
Before he could object again, Rebekah had made a quick exit with the photographer and she was just standing there. Klaus could feel the awkward tension between them and knowing he’d caused it wasn’t helping matters. But he didn’t know any other way to act.
Then the words he’d struggled with just tumbled out.
“How do you feel about fish?”
Not the most suave topic or question but this was his ‘uncomfort’ zone.
“Depends on the context.”
“The context?”
“I mean, if you think I can clean, fillet and debone a fish, you’ve obviously overestimated my cooking talents.”
Klaus had to practically eat the smile that was threatening to appear. Again.
“Everyone has to start somewhere and get their hands a bit dirty, otherwise what’s the point?” He advised. “But, if you don’t want to then…”
“Oh, I never back away from a challenge, chef,” she promised.
Again, the pesky smile was hovering just beneath the surface.
Leading her towards the kitchen, Klaus told himself that preparing a fish was definitely going to keep his emotions at bay and also block out that perfume which was throwing him off balance.
4:45pm
“Why do I feel like this was a ploy to distract me from my interview?” Caroline asked, dipping the fish into egg wash and then flour as instructed by her cooking mentor for the day..
This was not how she saw her day going. It was surreal to say the least. This guy was supposed to be an ogre but Caroline was realising he was something else entirely.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he shot back. “But you filleted that fish like a professional, maybe you’ve missed your true calling?”
“I suppose I had a semi-good teacher,” she admitted wryly.
“Wow, tell me what you really think, Forbes.”
Caroline was trying not to to get too caught up in the moment but Klaus Mikaelson had challenged every judgment she’d ever harboured about the temperamental chef. He’d been unusually kind and patient.
The one thing she’d noticed was that his overall demeanour didn’t match his expression.
He didn’t smile.
Not once.
A few times, Caroline could swear it was close or maybe she was just imagining it?
“So, why do you like food?” It was a question she wasn’t expecting. Especially seeing as she was the interviewer and him her subject.
“Isn’t that what I’m supposed to be asking you?” He was silent for a moment, almost like he was contemplating it. “But I get the impression you don’t like that question much?”
“I’d much prefer to hear your story first, call it a warm-up.” Clearly he was nervous and Caroline was happy to oblige if it helped.
“My grandmother,” she smiled knowingly, visions of her nana filling her head. “When I was younger I’d go to her house most weekends and we’d cook together. She could make anything and everything. She died last year and it’s been tough without her but at least I still have those memories.”
Caroline didn’t mean to get personal, especially with the so-called “angry chef” but for some reason she felt nothing but comfort in his presence, even if he didn’t smile.
“What was her specialty?”
“Banana cream cheesecake,” she smiled, the taste of it rushing back in all its delicious glory.
“Hard to beat,” he murmured. “Have you ever eaten a Bananas Foster? My restaurant in New Orleans does a modern version over flame. According to my maitre’d there’ve apparently been a few proposals over dessert.”
“Over your dessert?”
“Someone sounds dubious. Let’s just say it’s fireworks but without the danger. Well, unless the tablecloth is accidentally set on fire but the fire department down there are pretty good first responders I understand.”
“I just didn’t take you for the romantic dessert type.”
“I suppose there’s a lot of things you don’t know about me then.”
“So, why do you like food then?”
“Well, of course I like food, I wouldn’t be a chef otherwise,” he shared, moving swiftly in behind her and taking the fillets from her hand and placing them in the hot pan, Caroline was trying not to react to his touch or that welcoming and heady mixture of sandalwood, spices and soap . “But one interview isn’t going to even begin to answer that question.”
He had a point and Caroline knew it. How could you sum up what food meant to you in one interview?
“So, what exactly are you trying to say? I do have a deadline to meet.”
“How about we schedule a follow-up interview tomorrow morning? Dinner service is imminent and if you stay I’m going to have to ask you to do more than fillet a fish. My pastry chef Lucien is also very needy, requires constant gratification, and you don’t want to be on the receiving end of that.”
“Not gonna lie I’m intrigued and by that I’m talking about Lucien. Did you insult his choux pastry or something?”
“Not if I want my patrons to eat dessert this century. But, if you insist on staying, there’s a whole pile of onions there with your name on it and we can call it even.”
“You wouldn’t dare.” He raised his left eyebrow by way of response. Caroline was trying to ignore just how good he looked, even if there was no smile forthcoming.
“Fine,” she conceded. “Tomorrow morning but that’s it otherwise my editor might fire me.”
“Great, let’s make it 10:30, you can poach an egg, right? And I also expect extra crispy bacon.”
Caroline knew she was possibly in trouble and not because he was tasking her with cooking. Enzo would also parrot that particular concern but she couldn’t help herself.
Today was probably the best day she’d had in a long time and she didn’t want it to end. She told herself that she’d return tomorrow and get her interview, that’s all she wanted from him, right?
4 May - Alinea - 1723 N. Halsted St, Chicago IL - 11am
Klaus Mikaelson was in uncharted territory.
That’s what scared him the most.
Caroline Forbes was seated across from him at his best, window table in jeans and a cream sweater, her plate empty and a very full but satisfied look on her face. Klaus decided to add that to his favourite expressions file. It was fast filling up and he’d only known her for 20 hours.
He wasn’t this guy.
At all.
But she’d consumed his thoughts since their first meeting and all night through dinner service and beyond. He’d barely slept, but it wasn’t a bad thing. He’d been looking forward to seeing her as soon as she left.
The only problem? Not smiling because it was that difficult when she was in his presence. He had his reasons of course.
“So, why do you love food? And no arguments given I poached a mean egg and also let you have a reprieve yesterday.”
“The bacon could use some work, just saying.”
“Well, you’re more than welcome to cook itself yourself, Mikaelson. Are you always such a critic? Last time I checked that was my job. Also enough with the distractions. So?”
“My mum,” he admitted quietly, even if it took a minute or so to verbalise. For some reason her opening up about her grandmother had filled him with courage. He didn’t do feelings or talk about them for that matter. “She cooked with me practically from birth until she got too sick last year.”
Those last words wobbled, it was unfortunate as it was expected. He’d struggled for a long time and losing his mother had been difficult.
“What was her specialty?” Klaus recognised the question he’d asked himself yesterday, but the fact her hand squeezed his at the same time filled him with the confidence and warmth he needed.
“Rosemary braised lamb shanks, it was her favourite protein. I’ve tried to pay homage on all my menus since.”
‘So, that explains the Saddle of Elysian Fields Farm Lamb with Babaganoush, Romano Beans and Harissa Jus on your menu then?”
“You’ve done your homework clearly?”
“That and the fact it’s the first time I’ve seen you smile, and I have to say it’s really nice.”
Klaus didn’t even realise he’d let it slip but suddenly it didn’t matter anymore. He didn’t want to hide it, not with her.
“She used to tell me to smile all the time because I was too serious, you could say it’s something I’ve battled with ever since she passed.”
“All the more reason to smile, even just to introduce those dimples to the general public. Has anyone ever told you they should come with a warning?”
“No, but more than happy to discuss further.”
“If only, but I have to get going.” Klaus felt almost deflated that she was leaving as quickly as she’d arrived. Maybe he’d shared too much. “Deadlines and all that. But if you could just consult the email I sent confirming the details of our interview that would be great.”
Klaus felt disillusioned, he’d opened himself up to someone and she was running away. She was out the door before he could even move from his seat. Checking his emails was the last thing he felt like doing, but his hand went to work on his cell checking it anyway and dreadfully waiting for its contents.
“As of three minutes ago, I no longer working for Delicious. It wanted a story I wasn’t prepared to write. I like your smile and dimples too much and I also want a Bananas Foster.”
His chest constricted as he read each word and his grin was unmistakable. It didn’t take long for him to reply.
“You make my heart smile.”
Tabloids would report months later that famed food blogger Caroline Forbes married famed chef Klaus Mikaelson in rural England after proposing over a dessert of Bananas Foster in New Orleans.
55 notes
·
View notes
Text
Fairytale Complex - [Undertale | Sans x Reader]
[Gender Neutral, Frisk's Parent Reader | Slow Burn]
Chapter Thirteen | Waterfall (Part 3 of 4 | His POV)
[First] | [Previous] | [Next]
"This is actually our first date, but we're getting there."
His soul almost stops at that sentence, yet he tries not to let it show. Based on how charmed (Y/N) was around monsters who weren't heavily involved with the intentions of the Royal Guard, Sans assumes they're lying for the sake of not letting Roger down. He observes and listens to their exchange by the side, only intervening when he's escorted with them into the shop.
Before arriving at the counter, he brings up that sentence and the meaning behind it. He has some confidence as to what their reply will be, but when they actually speak up, it only complicates his thoughts and the pace of his soul more. "I'm not sure what to think of this myself, but… In the end, I only did it 'cause I couldn't bring myself to get his hopes down."
He'd hit the nail in the head.
But what was the reason behind their doubts?
Did they feel forced to go out with him, simply for having gotten to know Frisk during their journey?
It didn't feel that way, yet he didn't exactly know them well enough to be one-hundred percent sure of those assumptions. For all he knew, they could be pretending and trying to get along with him just for the sake of Frisk's happiness and the rest of their monster friends. It wasn't safe to cross out that possibility yet.
A bunnywoman greets him and he words out his orders, saying (Y/N)'s, then his, and finally Frisk's to-go. He can see the human's wallet already in hand, though they hold it back when he's directed with them to a table, no upfront payment needed. "But even if this was a date, I still don't think I'd be able to accept having another one after today's," they add, sitting down and facing their lap.
At that, his curiosity rises, and he can't help asking them for a little more detail. "What do you mean?"
They fidget before answering. "I need to focus more on raising Frisk before going anywhere with my love life."
"Why?" The monster wants to disappear with how abrupt, rude, and plain nosy that question comes out. Knowing he's already screwed up and not wanting to ruin things further by making them angry, he hurries to elaborate his question better, saying, "So you haven't dated anyone ever since that day?" He breathes out as subtly as possible, relieved to see them nod.
A brown bear appears, referring to himself as the waiter in charge of the table for today. He's in formal wear, something the human seems to be charmed by; it's an undoubtedly similar look to when they didn't want to disappoint the rabbit. They continue when the bear leaves, words once more catching the skeleton off guard. "I haven't, and to be honest I'd…" They keep quiet for a while, making his doubts return. He's worried he's asking questions far too personal for them to be in any way comfortable with him, but they don't stop with their answers. "I'd like to keep it that way for as long as it's needed. I need to be there for Frisk, and I need to be more careful of who I date from now on." They sound more at ease the further they talk, helping calm some of his own tension down. "You see, I… I really don't want Frisk to grow up in an environment full of constant fights and disagreements."
That seems to be the final drop in the bucket for them to expose their heart out to him. Words practically flow out of their mouth as they continue to explain the reasons behind their self-imposed limitations. They tell him of Jerry and their relationship with him post-divorce, of those six years without dating anyone, and over the responsibility they felt was on their shoulders ever since Jerry stopped acting as a father for Frisk. He's irked with everything they say -- especially the last part -- but again, he tries not to let his emotions show too much, wanting to listen to them instead.
As they speak, Sans wonders whether it's okay to continue being all chill and buddy-buddy with Jerry, now knowing him in a different light. The guy was fun to be around with, and he was truthfully the one who'd given him a push to make a move on (Y/N), but he couldn't bring himself to meet up with him again without wanting to use the same sense of judgment he specialized in at the Underground. He was strict and stern when it came to the consequences of others' actions just as he was when it came to judging himself for his own choices in both past and present times.
If Jerry was well-aware he wasn't ready to be a father, then why did he still agree on (having/adopting) a child?
Had it been an unforeseen result, or was there more to it?
A piece of information slips by, though (Y/N) doesn't seem to catch onto it. After the words 'I let him go', follow: "I, well… I was over the moon when he said we could be parents, and I didn't really think about his real feelings about the situation the second he said we could give it a try, so it's… It's primarily my fault all of this happened, either way. I- I should've paid more attention and discussed the situation with him more properly." A bitter smile shows on their face. "Children aren't pets, and even pets aren't that easy of a responsibility, either. I… I should've stopped to think about that choice some more before immediately assuming we were both ready, once he... once he brought up the possibility of us being parents."
Based on how little they react after that confession, it's plain evident they haven't noticed they've let that information slip past, so he chooses not to bring it up. To make up for it, Sans intervenes when he notices they're too caught up in wanting to make things right all in one day. He steps in with his own view on the subject so far, saying, "Don't wanna assume things right off the bat, but…" He pauses, picking up a fork and piercing it through his dish. Then, he faces (Y/N), continuing with, "You kinda feel like you've gotta make up for that? Limiting yourself that much ain't really the best option, though."
They face away and pick up a portion of their dessert along the way. With how calm they look right now, he wonders how they would react had he chosen to bring up the fact they'd just confessed something far too personal in the midst of them being honest with him. "I just don't trust myself enough to make the right decision again." They take a bite.
Sans tries to look away from their lips, not wanting to make himself come off as an indecent person by staring there for too long. While they were dressed far more strikingly and looked far more cheerful compared to previous times, that's no excuse for him to stare, and even less at their face. They were here wearing their heart out on their sleeve for him. Taking advantage of that with any sort of flirting or advancements simply didn't feel right presently.
He offers his point-of-view, only to be interrupted by what he fears is trouble lurking right behind (Y/N)'s back. There's two human men standing close by, pointing at their waist and muttering comments about how 'chunky' they are and how small the off-brand 'Grim Reaper on vacation prop' sitting with them is. He waits and keeps an eye socket out for the two as he continues, only to be interrupted by a loud comment from one of the pair not long after.
"Hey, Kevin," the burliest one of the two says, voice irritatingly loud. "What did the skeleton say to the hog?"
Laughter follows and the lankier one replies with, "I don't know, Brayan. What?"
Brayan fakes a swoon and attempts to mimic what Sans can only interpret as his own voice with how exaggeratedly rough and Batman-with-a-cold deep it sounds, saying, "Oh, you're the exact opposite of me -- all fat and no bones. What a catch!"
More laughter.
"Wait, wait," Kevin says, voice now heard from closer by. "I've- I've gotta good follow-up to that one." Brayan snorts at that -- obnoxiously rather than cutely. "I might be fat, but you're the real pig here -- liking me only because of those weird tastes of yours!"
"What's bothering you, mi chicharrón? You're my type. I'm only saying the truth!
"And I'm done with you, you bonehead!"
Just as the skeleton expects to be pushed off his chair, his company intervenes by standing up and approaching the man about to send him to the ground. Their stance is firm and their gaze is pissed, the light in their eyes far different from when they snapped at his own flirting. They grab the man by the arm, but it doesn't take much for him to retaliate and seek out help from his partner-in-crime. Far-too soon, a splash is heard and the skeleton sees (Y/N)'s shirt drenched, an empty glass being held by one of the two men still standing nearby.
Now his turn to act, Sans takes advantage of free Karma and tosses both his drink and theirs at the man responsible for throwing one at (Y/N). The rest is a blur as he pays more attention to them and their condition. Only the comments Kevin and Brayan made about them and the drink thrown at them stay in his mind, occupying the rest of his thoughts. He takes a towel and wraps it around their torso, being extra cautious not to brush his hands anywhere improper, something better said than done with his current situation. They're soaked from neck to waist, the subtle warmth emerging from their body making him further concerned by assuming the drink was still fresh.
"Was it hot?"
With that question, he receives yet another surprise, both in words and the bold look they give him along with it. "No," he hears (Y/N) say, grinning bright and wide as a subtle, flirty curve shows on their smile. "But you worrying about me kinda is."
His soul lurches at the feeling of their lips on his cheekbone. It's a sensation far too soft for him to have ever been prepared for it, and it's made a lot more intense when they drag the kiss all the way to his ear cavity, lips brushing against his face as they whisper him a 'thank you'. His hands are firm on their waist as the crowd cheers on. It's only when he backs away and lets go of the towel that he can escape from the situation, plopping back down on his chair to recover from it.
• • •
With the remnants of the earlier incident, it’s a different experience giving the human a ride to his home. The skeleton's now overly alert of everything around him, from their hands around his waist to the rumbling of other engines near him. Thankfully, a cloudy sky, strong winds, and a light drizzle aid as a distraction. He dodges busy streets by taking detours wherever possible, and he focuses on one thing only: getting there before the rain pours any harder. While the helmet shields most of it away, the roar of the clouds above alerts him and seemingly the one holding onto him, based on how they press closer and ask if he’s okay.
“Wouldn’t it be better to stop?” they suggest, voice muffled from too many things at once. There’s the rain picking up, other vehicles zooming past, and the warning of future thunder from the clouds. Add in the helmets, and it’s a necessity for him to take a turn and park by the emergency lane.
The stillness of his surroundings helps provide a better look at the options nearby. Four were available, the last of them the most risky. It was either turn left and stop at a gas station, turn right and stop at an inn, go back and stop at the nearest shopping district available, or continue forward without any proper sense of direction.
Just as he’s imagining there’s no way (Y/N) could be any bolder than they had been with their kiss, they say, “Let’s stop by the inn.” Their smile quells any hidden meanings. Their tone, on the other hand, has plenty left to be said. “It’s the closest option there is, and judging by the situation up there, it’s the best one, too.”
Right.
He scolds himself mentally for letting his imagination run too far.
Of course, it was his fear of thunder they were referring to!
What else could it have been?
“Alright,” he says, giving in with a huff. “You sure you’re okay with that?”
“Yeah,” they reply, shrugging. “It's getting darker, and the weather’s not too good. I’ll just call Undyne and let her know we'll be returning a little later than expected."
The monster finally grins at that and props the motorcycle back into shape. “You’re being awfully chill about this whole thing, pal.” He jolts when their hands find their place around him once more, settled down when he hears them laugh, airiness present in their tone. They rest their head closer to his shoulder, helmet bumping with his. “Gettin’ real comfy around me, too.”
They pull back, a frown heard in their question, “Would you like me to stop?”
He shakes his head, bringing them closer at a red light. “Not at all.”
Their laughter sounds again, more cheerful and light. Had he no context of where they'd been before the ride, he would’ve assumed they'd taken a drink too many. To see them relax and play along was about as rare as a day not passing by without the sudden awfulness of the weather. It’s been worsening, yet he can’t quite determine why exactly. There were plenty of factors contributing to it, one of the most common being the current season, and the most uncommon somehow related to the accusations monsters received about the bad weather being all their fault.
Flashing, neon lights greet the skeleton when he parks close to the inn, right below a tent made specifically for keeping customers' vehicles out of the bad weather. ‘Open 24/7. Vacant. Family Friendly. Monster Friendly. Absolutely NO pest problem. Suspicious wall stains are actually retro wallpaper patterns, not blood,' and a bunch more other things blare at him in bright lettering. There’s tiny wording at the bottom of the word ‘Inn’, reading: ‘formerly a criminal hideout’, in parentheses.
Sans expects all but more stifled laughter from (Y/N)’s mouth. When he looks towards them, he sees they've already taken their helmet off, revealing teary eyes and a smile. “What's next?” they ask, giggling. “Bet now the hotel guy'll say: ‘Sorry, we’ve only got one room left’.” They take him by the arm and lead him in as soon as the rain pours completely, their laughter drowning out as thunder clashes from nearby. “C’mon,” they call out, tugging him in. “You’ll get sick!” The door jingles as he passes through with them by his side, revealing a lobby far more decent than the outside suggests. “See that? It’s gonna be fine!"
He doesn't say anything and instead lets himself be tugged along. If he'd annoyed them too much with his flirting and this was the world's way of punishing him for it, he accepted it despite what that was doing to his soul. He accompanies them to the registration counter, where an even worse problem waits.
"Welcome!" Mettaton calls out, greeting both him and the human next to him with a smile. Funky music plays on the radio, matching almost eerily with his gaze and the purpose behind his smile. "Room for two, I assume?" He takes out a log book, and a calculative frown shows on his face as he taps his chin with the pen, a smile returning when he looks up. "...Either way, I'm afraid that's all we have right now."
His companion snorts (cutely, in comparison to Brayan), though they cover it up when he tries to get a better look at them, seeing a smile still on. "Told you so," they say, jabbing his waist. They then turn over to the robot, seriousness falling on their face. "We'd like to book it for a night, please."
[First] | [Previous] | [Next]
• • •
Note
This chapter was originally meant to be only 2 parts long, but the request seen here (an older one, as it was suggested in the first version of this fanfic) ended up enriching the story's plot wayyy more than I thought, lol.
• • •
Tag List (Comment or message me if you want to be added to [or removed from] it!)
@the-simp-express
@nektotersh
@disastrous-l0vebug
@therealchickenjoe
@mintyflakes025
@pandaquick
@timelock97
@candle-creeps
#sans x reader#undertale x reader#lgbt#lgbt themes#gender neutral reader#male reader#female reader#mother reader#father reader#parent reader#chubby reader#long fic#romcom#adventure#mystery#platonic relationships#slow burn
30 notes
·
View notes
Text
Through Your Ears And Mine
SHIPS: Dukemile
CHARACTERS: Remus Sanders, Emile Picani
WARNING: Remus eats something gross
GENERAL TAGLIST: @quillfics42 @aj-draws @phantomofthesanderssides @phlying-squirrel @sly-is-my-name-loving-is-my-game @because-were-fam-ily @imtryingthisout @a-creepycookie @emo-disaster @littlestr @spooky-scary-virgil @fuyel @mimsidoodles @soupgremlin @aroaceagenderfluid @birdsbookshiddeninrealbirdsskin @quirkalurk @gingers-trashy-stuff @iinyxtello @justaqueercactus @melodiread @mrbubbajones @glassferns @pun-master-logan @gayturtlez @k1ngtok1
Masterpost
A Series Of Soulmate AUs Masterpost
Remus always knew when he was about to switch hearing with his soulmate.
His ears warmed and started to tingle, and he always had a few second warning until he lost his own hearing, and started to hear through his soulmate’s ears. It always lasted at least five seconds, and never more than half a minute, though mostly somewhere in the middle, and usually didn’t give him too much information, though he enjoyed it every time.
He often heard cartoons, and he’d managed to piece together that his soulmate was a therapist through the numerous snippets of patients talking. Once, he’d heard them call his soulmate ‘doc,’ which was as close to a name or nickname as Remus had ever gotten to hearing.
Whenever he heard music, it was almost always Disney or from cartoons, which painted quite the picture of what Remus’s soulmate was like.
He seemed cute and sweet and kind, based on his taste and his choice of career, and absolutely nothing like Remus, himself.
But everyone said that opposites attracted, and Remus already knew that his soulmate was exactly his type. That was how soulmates worked, after all.
Unfortunately, Remus’s voice stopped working whenever he heard through his soulmate’s ears, which made it pretty difficult to leave a message, and the unpredictability of when it happened made it equally hard to plan ahead. He was never much of a planner, though, and was content to just let life happen to him.
They couldn’t really use their soulbond to find each other, but Remus was still happy with what it was, and listening to his soulmate was always the best part of his day.
He’d find him when he found them, and though Remus was impatient, he wasn’t the kind of person to just go out and find him himself.
When he heard the warmth and tingling in his ears, he was listening to music – it was loud and crude, just his taste, but nothing his soulmate hadn’t heard through him before, so he kept it going when the world faded out, and his soulmate’s side faded in.
“-are the Crystal Gems, we’ll always save the day!”
Ah, Steven Universe. Remus’s cousin, Patton, had teamed up with Roman to make Remus watch the show with them, so he was familiar with the theme tune. It also wasn’t the first time he’d overheard his soulmate watching it.
“And if you think we can’t, we’ll always find a way!”
Remus drummed his fingers on his knee in time to the music.
“That’s why the people of this world believe in: Garnet, Amethyst and Pearl and Steven!”
Only a moment after the theme-tune was finished, it faded out and the song Remus was listening to faded back in. It was almost over, and Remus suddenly realised how loud it was, especially in comparison to the song he’d just overheard. Hopefully his soulmate didn’t have sensitive ears.
Remus huffed, flopping back against the couch, and keeping the song at the deafening volume.
That was boring. He’d been hoping for something a little more interesting – some snippet that would tell him more about his soulmate and their life – but apparently fate had had different ideas.
Remus got up, ripping the headphones from his head and dropping them and his phone onto the couch cushions. He went over to his kitchen and decided to make the most terrible snack he could possibly think of. After a moment of consideration, tapping his foot on the kitchen floor tiles and scanning his surroundings, he decided on ketchup and mint chocolate chip ice cream.
For a second, he wondered if he should microwave the ingredients, making it more of a soup, but he decided against it as he really didn’t want to wait that long.
He mixed the two ingredients in the first bowl he could find, grabbing a spoon from the drawer and then sitting on his kitchen counter, pulling his legs up to sit cross-legged.
He ate slowly, savouring the sweet and sour mix of food that he knew would absolutely horrify everyone he’d ever met. Remus would have to text Roman about his snack lately, simply to nauseate and annoy his twin brother. It tasted good, in Remus’s opinion, but he was always one who liked peculiar flavours.
When Remus finished his snack, he dropped the bowl into the sink, alongside all of the other dishes that had been left there for days. He could clean up another time.
(He would not.)
The moment he took a step out of the kitchen, the warmth and tingling in his ears suddenly resumed.
Remus froze in place. It was uncommon for these things to happen back-to-back like this, but not completely underheard of. Once, a few years ago, it had happened twelve times in one day – twice an hour for six hours in a row – and afterwards Roman had told him that that had meant he’d been close to meeting his soulmate, but had missed the opportunity. After that, Remus had sulked for a week.
Hope began to bubble up inside of him, and Remus immediately grinned. He slumped against the wall, and prepared to listen to what he assumed was likely going to be more Steven Universe.
Instead, when his hearing faded out, and his soulmate’s faded in, he heard something else.
“Gosh, I really hope you can hear this! My friend told me to do this, said it worked for him. I recorded this on my phone, ‘cos you can’t normally hear my voice,” the voice was quick, and it took a moment for it to click in Remus’s head that this must have been his soulmate’s voice. He would’ve gasped if he could have. Instead his voice was stuck in his throat, like it always was when he heard through his soulmate’s ears. “So, um, my address is...”
There was only just enough time for the address to finish, before the sound faded out, and the silence of Remus’s apartment faded back in.
He was frozen in place, his eyes wide.
The voice was male, at least from Remus could tell, which made sense as Remus was gay, and therefore only really attracted to men. It was perfect, and already the most attractive voice Remus had ever heard in his life, and he never wanted to stop hearing it.
A minute passed, and then Remus jumped to work. He sped through his apartment, sifting through the mess of drawers – and making an even bigger mess – as he searched for a pen and a piece of paper. He went over the address again and again and again in his head as he moved, making sure not to forget it and memorizing it quickly.
When he finally found a scrap piece of paper – that had a doodle of a man being beheaded on the back – he immediately scribbled the address over the back.
He stared at it for a few seconds, clutching the paper so tightly that he almost ripped it in half.
Then, he made his mind up.
The plans he had already made for tonight, meeting up with his parents for their fortnightly dinner together, immediately slipped from his head. He had to go to this address.
He rushed over to the couch, picking up his phone and searching up the address, and his eyes lit up and his heart skipped a beat when he realised: his soulmate was close.
A two-hour long drive. Possibly less, if Remus didn’t care about breaking laws and ignoring the speed limit, which he truly did not care about.
He could go to that address right now. He could meet his soulmate today.
Remus had to. He would.
He crumpled the paper up into a ball, shoving it into his pocket along with the pen. He then rushed through his apartment like a hurricane, making an even bigger mess of the place as he searched through drawers for his car keys. For once, he was annoyed with himself at his lack of order, as he usually didn’t have much of an idea of where everything was. Normally he didn’t mind, but right now he was in enough of a hurry that he hated it.
When he finally found his keys, he turned and left his apartment.
He forgot to shut the door behind him, but it would be a while until he remembered that.
He drove faster than the speed limit when he could, but apparently fate was on his side, as he wasn’t at any point pulled over. He was halfway through his drive when the hearing switched again, and, for once in his life, Remus was responsible, and he pulled over to listen.
It was the same voice – another recorded message – and Remus’s heart skipped a beat in his chest.
It started with an awkward laugh – endearing and adorable and it made fireworks go off in Remus’s heart – and then the voice spoke again.
“Maybe I should’ve started with my number,” his soulmate said. “And my name. I got a little ahead of myself there, sorry.” Another awkward laugh. “Um... my name is Emile Picani and my number is...”
Remus grabbed the pen that he’d stuffed into his pocket and scribbled the number across the back of his right hand as it was recited. The hearing faded out, and he was left staring at his hand when the sound of the cars zooming past him faded back in.
After a moment, he dug around in his pockets for his phone, and retrieved it quickly.
He wasted no time adding the contact to his phone, and then texting it immediately.
REMUS
would it be weird for me to come to ur address right now
If Remus were any other man, he would have realised how weird of an opening that was. However, he was not any other man, he was Remus, and that was the best he could come up with.
He didn’t have to wait long for a reply.
EMILE
Umm....
I guess that depends on who you are!
Remus could practically hear that sweet, awkward laugh in his head, and he couldn’t wait for the next time he’d get to hear it in his ears again. Hopefully, that next time would happen face-to-face.
REMUS
soulmate
ur voice is pretty
Remus drummed his fingers on his knee as he waited impatiently for the next text. It only took a couple minutes for the next text to come.
EMILE
Oh my gosh!!! Wow!!!!!
So it worked?
My brother told me it would but i was so nervous!
It worked for him and his soulmate but i wasn’t sure it would for us!!!!
All bonds are different right?
REMUS
it worked
can i come then?
EMILE
Gosh okay!!
I don’t have work today and it would be jut wonderful to finally meet you!!!
*just
As long as it doesn’t inconvenience you of course
REMUS
Im already close
And he was. A quick glance at his GPS made it known that he was already only an hour away. Just an away from his soulmate’s place, and from finally meeting his soulmate himself.
Remus was ecstatic.
He stuffed his phone into his pocket and restarted his drive.
Again, he drove over the speed limit, but, again, it seemed that fate was on his side, and he wasn’t caught and pulled over.
He got a few complaints from pedestrians when he sloppily parked just down the street from his soulmate’s apartment building, and one even kicked his tire. He ignored them all without hesitation, though, and only just remembered to lock his car behind him as he raced down the street: not quite running, but certainly hurrying.
He passed pedestrians that he paid no mind, darting through the crowd, and then stopped in his tracks when he passed a small stall selling flowers.
Remus paused, his mind moving a mile a minute, before he bought the first bouquet that caught his eye – it was rainbow: a bright, mixture of colours that Remus hoped his soulmate would like.
He wasn’t usually the nice, romantic type, but even Remus wanted to make a good first impression.
It didn’t take long for him to get inside the apartment building – one of the tenants opened the door just before him, and kept holding it open for Remus when they saw him following behind.
He climbed the stairs – he figured running up them was better than taking the elevator, and risking having to stop at every floor. It didn’t take long for him to find his soulmate’s apartment; he checked the address once on the way, and, though his hand-writing was messy and unreadable to most, he knew he was in the right place.
Remus stopped at the door, and knocked loudly.
But before just before it could open, the familiar warmth and tingling of his ears returned, and the moment the door swung open, he still heard it, but through the ears of the man now in front of him, instead of his own.
The man in front of him – his soulmate, his soulmate – was cute. Very, very cute. He had curly hair and wide eyes, and clothes that were pink and beige and neat and clean, as opposed to Remus’s, which were always ripped and messy.
They stared at each other, as they could not yet talk.
Emile’s eyes kept flicking between Remus’s face and the bouquet, and it was only when their hearing switched back that he remembered to hand the flowers to his soulmate.
He held them out, and Emile took them and held them to his chest.
“Thank you.”
#me#writing#dukemile#intrumile#remani#sanders sides#cartoon therapy#emile picani#remus sanders#sympathetic remus#soulmate au#human au#fluff
92 notes
·
View notes
Text
“If any character in English popular culture stands for the sheep, it is Griselda. Her chief detractor is, not surprisingly, the shrew. In Robert Snawsel's A Looking Glass for Married Folks, Eulalie preaches the Griselda gospel to Xanthippe and Margery, urging them to bear their husbands' blows and drunkenness with meek loving kindness. This is too much for Margery: "Are you a woman, and make them such dish-clouts and slaves to their husbands? Came you of a woman, that you should give them no prerogative, but make them altogether underlings?" Margery's scornful reference to slavery goes to the dark heart of the Griselda myth. Folklorists have argued about the ancestry of the famous tale for more than a century.
William Edwin Bettridge and Francis Lee Utley have made a strong case that Griselda owes her features to a folktale from medieval Smyrna called "the Patience of the Princess." A prince buys a poor girl from her father and lays a wager with her that she will not be able to submit to all his demands with utter composure. The prince shuts her in a tower alone and tests her for twenty years, repeatedly impregnating her and then taking away her newborn infants, telling her that he is going to kill them. She builds a mother doll out of clay to talk to and cry to but never loses her patience, and in this way she wins the bet.
The tale, which matches the European narrative more closely than any other yet found, throws into stark relief the specter of female sexual slavery that haunts Griselda's story. The most striking variance between them is that the girl from Smyrna is sold into involuntary servitude by her father, whereas Griselda has a choice and agrees to voluntary and total obedience. Passing into European culture, the story came to Boccaccio. In reworking it for the Decameron he reclothed it in local garb, fashioning his novella partly in terms of Italian wedding and dowry customs that were sharply weighted against brides and wives. Boccaccio thought Griselda's story significant enough to give it pride of place as the last tale on the book's final day of storytelling.
Petrarch read the novella and converted it to an exemplum in Latin for male scholars. Griselda entered English culture through Chaucer's "Clerk's Tale," which is largely based on Petrarch's version. Plays, ballads, and pamphlets on Griselda issued forth on the continent and in England throughout the early modern period, with a cluster of publications and performances in the mid- to late sixteenth century. Arguably the most radical change between versions occurred when Petrarch reworked Boccaccio. The Decameron's final tale is told by the satirist Dioneo, a crucial choice by Boccaccio. Refusing to let the happy ending stay happy, Dioneo spells out the political import of the story and caps it off with a horn joke against the marquis:
Everyone was very happy with the way everything had turned out ....Gualtieri was judged to be the wisest of men (although the tests to which he had subjected his wife were regarded as harsh and intolerable), and Griselda the wisest of them all ....What more can be said here, except that godlike spirits do sometimes rain down from heaven into poor homes, just as those more suited to governing pigs than to ruling over men make their appearances in royal palaces?
Who besides Griselda could have endured the severe and unheard-of trials that Gualtieri imposed upon her and remained with a not only tearless but happy face? It might have served Gualtieri right if he had run into the kind of woman who, once driven out of her home in nothing but a shift, would have allowed another man to shake her fur to the point of getting herself a nice-looking dress out of the affair.
Scholars often downplay Dioneo's bitter words about pig-tending and his final putdown of Gualtieri, attributing it to his cynicism; but their labors to match the tale's disturbing sadism with an uplifting exemplary meaning are less than persuasive. The passage is much more than a glib throwaway, as Edward Fechter points out: "the climax angrily repudiates theological allegory and exemplum." Certainly, it seems fitting that the last lines of the last tale in the Decameron should recapitulate the Boccaccian theme of cuckoldry as female revenge. Dioneo's parting shot about "the shaking of the fur" is also an invitation to his listeners and the book's readers to come up with better interpretations than do the silly sheeplike courtiers of the tale, who judge "Walter wise and Griselda the wisest of all."
Furthermore, it is a jest that asks for scornful laughter, especially from listeners who have grutched throughout the tale at Walter's arrogance, egotism, and sadism. Petrarch told Boccaccio that the story so fascinated him that he decided to spread the tale to scholars abroad. So "snatching up my pen, I attacked this story of yours." The angle of Petrarch's attack on the novella (which he termed "a little too free at times") becomes manifest at the cuckoldry-free conclusion of "A Fable of Wifely Obedience and Devotion," in which he erases Boccaccio's satire and his bawdy call for female revenge:
This story it has seemed good to me to weave anew, in another tongue, not so much that it might stir the matrons of our times to imitate the patience of this wife-who seems to me scarcely imitable-as that it might stir all those who read it to imitate the woman's steadfastness, at least; so that they may have the resolution to perform for God what this woman performed for her husband ...Therefore I would assuredly enter on the list of steadfast men the name of anyone who endured for his God, without a murmur, what this obscure peasant woman endured for her mortal husband.
Petrarch's straight-faced version has none of Dioneo's political satire or irony. He is writing in Latin to male scholars, not in vernacular Italian to women and men, as Boccaccio had done. Nonetheless, it is Petrarch that Chaucer credits by name in the vernacular, mixed-audience "Clerk's Tale," although he departs from Petrarch in crucial ways. The Clerk does follow his source in insisting that his moral applies not to wives but to all humankind: This storie is seyd, nat for that wyves sholde Folwen Grisilde as in humilytee, For it were inportable, though they wolde; But for every wight, in his degree, Should be constant in adversitee As was Grisilde .... (I 142-47)
Chaucer actually intensifies Petrarch's warning that wives should not try to imitate Griselda, calling her example "inportable," or unbearable. (The Merchant, whose turn comes next, blatantly ignores this caveat, complaining "Ther is a long and large difference I Bitwix Grisildis grete pacience I And my wyf the passyng crueltee.") Still, scholarly attempts to align Chaucer's Walter with God do not work because Walter is described as "tempting" his wife, a word almost always associated with sin and vice. In another departure from Petrarch, Chaucer's Clerk breaks in several times to condemn the marquis. After Walter first decides to try his wife, the Clerk interjects hotly what neded it Hir for to tempte, and alwey moore and moore, Thogh som men preyse it for a subtill wit? But as for me, I seye that yvele it sit T'assaye a wyf whan that it is no nede, And putten hire in angwysshe and in drede. (45?-62)
Chaucer's version subtly calls Grisildis's ovine quality into question. The lamb of God is Christ, of course, and Grisildis' meekness when her daughter is taken away resembles his suffering: "Grisildis moot al suffre and al consente, I And as a lambe she sitteth meke and stille" But "moot" she? Within English popular culture, sheep and lambs do sometimes stand for the positive values of resignation and endurance-for example, in emblems on patience. But there is no doubt that sheep generally connote passivity, cowardice, and stupidity. In terms of sheer frequency, the negative secular connotation overwhelms the positive religious one.
A related complicating effect is the criticism leveled at "the unsad" (that is, fickle and sheeplike) people of the realm, who at first deplore Walter's acts but change their minds when they see the pretty new queen (actually his daughter), leading "sadde folk" to exclaim: "0 stormy people! unsad and evere untrewe!" As the Clerk finishes his tale, he shows that he is fully aware that not all his listeners will appreciate Griselda's virtues. With teasing wit he acknowledges the Wife of Bath, who has been called the tale's motivating force and dialogic counterpart. Just before the comic envoy he promises "for the Wyves love of Bathe" to gladden her "and al hire secte" with a song urging them to ignore Grisildis and revel in shrewdam (rr69-74).
By shifting the Clerk's role from that of the preacher of a pious exemplum to a merry jester-singer, Chaucer undercuts his clerkly authority and blurs the moral legibility of his tale, already obscured by Griselda's lack of moral agency and her husband's viciousness. Nonetheless, Griselda quickly proved alluring to husbands, and she retained that allure despite proving highly problematic as a pattern for wives. Like the new husband in the jest about the pottage, men who wanted very much to promote Griselda as a model found her too hot to handle.
In the training manual he prepared for his young wife in the 1390s, the Menagier de Paris offers a confused and troubled account of why he wants her to learn about Griselda. He rushes to assure his wife that he'll never torment her "beyond reason" as the "foolish, arrogant" Walter does Griselda, nor does he expect such obedience: I have set down this story here only in order to instruct you, not to apply it directly to you, and not because I wish such obedience from you. I am in no way worthy of it. I am not a marquis, nor have I taken in you a shepherdess as my wife. Nor am I so foolish, arrogant, or immature in judgment as not to know that I may not properly assault or assay you thus, nor in any such fashion.
God keep me from testing you in this way or any other, under color of lies or dissimulations …I apologize if this story deals with too great cruelty-cruelty, in my view, beyond reason. Do not credit it as having really happened; but the story has it so, and I ought not to change it nor invent another, since someone wiser than I composed it and set it down. Because other people have seen it, I want you to see it too, so that you may be able to talk about everything just as they do.
What he really wants, it seems, is for his wife to be au courant. Griselda had "much currency off the page as a talking point in the late fourteenth century" and was "a subject about which wives might be expected to have an opinion." Codified as a way to get women talking (instead of shutting them up), the narrative about testing is itself a means of testing a woman's opinions and conduct. Is Griselda sick or stoic? Enslaved or free? Is hers a saint's tale, with Walter an abstract tool in the central mystery of her endurance, or is it as much a story about Walter and his court? Is he a cruel tyrant or a stern but loving husband with every right to test his wife? Is Walter God and Griselda a female Christ or Abraham or Job? All these positions have been argued during the six centuries of the debate.
Some recent readers still find Griselda admirable and even question whether she should be regarded as a passive victim. Harriet Hawkins has argued that Chaucer's tale should be read as a criticism of unquestioning obedience to authority, even divine authority, while Lars Engle hears "an implicit voice of sane moral protest" in Grisildis's mild objections to her husband. Such strained attempts at recuperation show that Griselda disturbs more than she edifies, raising but failing to answer questions about the limits of obedience in the face of tyranny and the conflict between Christian duty and wifely subjection.”
- Pamela Allen Brown, “Griselda the Fool.” in Better a Shrew than a Sheep: Women, Drama, and the Culture of Jest in Early Modern England
4 notes
·
View notes
Text
Artist!Harry Styles x Reader part 3
Part two here.
A/n: Let me just preface this part with the fact that writing this physically hurt me. I wanted to write more but I just feel like this ended exactly where it needed to, and that’s a feeling I just can’t ignore. This one is somehow much sadder than the other two which is a fat ouch and I apologize in advance for any broken hearts.
Words: 1455
“Would you like a tea or coffee?” Harry offers from the kitchen as I stand by the front door to take off my shoes. The house smells of the familiar waikiki beach coconut wall plug-in I bought him this past week, and I can tell from the entrance that he’s cleaned up the place.
“Sure,” I call back fully aware of the fact that that was not a yes or no question. As I round the corner to the kitchen I hear him giggle softly; he’s quiet so as to prevent me from hearing his laughter. My favorite mug, themed Elvis’ ‘Viva Las Vegas’, sits untouched on the dish drying rack. Harry may have cleaned the kitchen but my cup is still exactly where I left it ereyesterday.
He’s already begun making my drink and I can see a new box, sporting my favorite brand’s logo, is settled on the counter next to his Keurig.
“Hey, how come your parents didn’t just name you Harold?” he seems taken aback by my question but answers once he sets the full mug in front of me.
“I don’t know, why didn’t your parents name you Sharon?”
“I guess they didn’t like the name very much.”
“Well, there’s your answer.” We’re sitting on the barstools of his kitchen island across the corner from one another, almost in the dark due to the gloomy London sky outside being our only light source. Harry’s got his right palm tucked underneath his chin whilst lazily watching me drink from my, but actually his, mug.
“You’re not gonna have anything to drink?” He shakes his head,
“No, maybe later,” and continues to stare at me with a fond expression. I hardly ever know what he’s thinking about, just how he’s feeling about what he’s thinking.
“Y/n?”
“Yes, Harry?”
“What’s your idea of a perfect proposal?” The question makes me choke on my drink, which sends Harry into a full on laughing fit; as a means to make amends, he grabs a napkin to help clean up the spilt liquid.
“Who’s the lucky lady?”
“Oh, shut up- I’m serious!” Now it’s my turn to laugh at his flustered demeanor. This doesn’t seem like small talk. It seems like he actually wants to know.
“I haven’t thought about it much, but…” I excitedly wrap both of my hands around my cup, absorbing it’s warmth, “The perfect proposal… is extravagant. I don’t mean fireworks and a bunch of adoring family members, but a grand gesture of sorts- and that means that whoever is proposing starts traditional. Down on one knee, a big speech about all the things he loves about me, and why he wants to marry me-”
“That doesn’t sound that extravagant.”
“I’m not done yet. The extravagant part is that we’re surrounded by thousands of red roses, and he’s got the most expensive champagne that money can buy, on ice for when I say yes.” When I finish, Harry seems amused with my event planning skills.
“For when you say yes?”
“If this man in question bought three thousand dollars worth of roses and dropped a couple hundred on the champagne, I’d have no choice but to say yes.”
Harry laughs wholesomely, with his head tossed back and his eyes cinched closed.
“What about the ring?”
“I wanna pick out my own ring so it’d just be best if the proposal happened without one.”
Irony is not my friend, as demonstrated in the memory of a conversation Harry and I shared exactly one week before he had agreed to do Camile’s portrait. Maybe I was wrong. Maybe he didn’t want to marry me… did he? Not that it matters now. He has yet to apologize but I get the feeling that’s what’s coming in our ‘talk’ that’s scheduled to happen as soon as I get to his flat.
I don’t even know why I’m going really. I should just turn the other cheek and trudge forward without him in my life.
But my heart won’t let me do that. No matter how much my head wants to.
Heading over now.
I’m so tense and in my own head that I completely forgot to turn music on the entire car ride to his place.
Parked in its usual spot is Harry’s grey hybrid, which probably means he’s seen me arrive since he likes to watch cars from his window. Congrats, Y/n, it is officially too late to turn around.
Slamming the car door, I take inventory of my keys and phone. Do I need anything else? Whatever. Stop stalling. I’m a capable adult who can handle adult conversations.
Before I can speak a word into the intercom, Harry has already buzzed me in the complex’s gate. The buzzing of the mechanism is much more ominous now that I know I can’t turn back; I wish the elevator would break down or something.
The all too familiar bing of the lift doors seals my fate as I approach his front door. Am I making a mistake? I ask myself as I knock feebly on the wooden door in front of me. It was so quiet I thought he didn’t hear but then I heard the sliding of the lock in the latch, and knew he had been waiting by the door for my arrival.
“Y/n.” Why does he sound surprised?
“Hi.”
“Hi.”
“Look, that was a really shitty thing of you to do-”
“Do you want to talk about this inside?”
“No-”
“Y/n. Please.” I guess I could at least do him the service of leaving his neighbors out of this conversation, so I hesitantly agree. Relief overwhelms him and he offers me his hand to take.
Harry’s hands are always really warm which I’m usually grateful for in the cold winters. But now it seems wrong. Something feels out of place between us, when all we’re doing is holding hands. Which makes me realize this conversation is going to be a lot tougher that I’d hoped.
After closing the door behind us, Harry leads me to his sitting area, his hand still in mine.
He sits me down in my normal couch spot but doesn’t sit down next to me. Confused at first, I follow his movement to see he’s already prepared my favorite drink and it’s sitting on the kitchen counter. He retrieves it silently, and once he’s back, he practically shoves the mug into my hands.
Elvis.
Instead of sitting on the loveseat perpendicular to the couch I’m perched on, Harry takes his place on the carpeted floor, facing the couch, with his back pressed against his antique coffee table. He’s sitting like a contemporary dancer with one leg bent and pressed flat to the floor, with the other leg bent over it with his foot flat on the ground. Must be a new habit, courtesy of the modern dance class he’s taking this semester.
“Can I talk first?” Realizing I don’t want him to curate an apology based on whatever grievances I’m armed with, I choose to let him go first.
“Okay.”
“I want you to know how sorry I am.” I can’t help the humorless scoff that escapes my mouth at his stellar opening. “At first, I couldn’t understand why you were upset, because then, I didn’t see it as a complete violation of your trust-which it was! And I am so,” he crawls forward to sit on his knees in front of me with his palms facing up in his lap, “so sorry that I had ever even considered to turn to an ex of all people for that project.”
Looking up from the lip gloss stain on the rim of the mug, I see Harry’s head is hung in the guiltiest expression of shame I’ve ever seen.
“Thank you for apologising, but I just don’t know if I can bring myself to trust you so quickly after the fact-” before I can finish Harry lifts his head to reveal an onslaught of tear tracks down his creamy complexion. Seeing his face in such agony is the final hit that breaks down the walls of my cold exterior. I reach behind him to set my half empty mug on the table before taking his face in both of my hands to wipe away the tears. He sniffles once before holding both of my hands against his face and pressing a kiss to each palm.
“I know it can’t be easy, Y/n. All I’m asking is that you give me the chance to earn your trust again. I…” overcome with sorrow, Harry then throws himself forward and lays his head in my lap, a few desperate sobs wracking through his pained figure.
“I love you.”
***
#Harry#Harry Styles#Harry Styles fanfiction#Harry Styles fanfic#Harry Styles fic#Harry Styles writing#writing#Harry Styles imagine#Harry Styles x reader#Harry Styles x y/n#Harry Styles x you#Harry Styles angst#Harry Styles fluff#fanfiction#fanfic#fic#artist harry#one direction#fine line#au#writing au#fanfic au#au fanfic
135 notes
·
View notes
Text
Welcome back, everyone! Starting here in Chapter Six these recaps are doing double duty with my latest attempt at completing National Novel Writing Month. Granted, this isn’t a novel and yes, I technically started this project well before November, but there’s no way I’d manage 50,000 words of fiction in 2020, so I’m hoping to hit that with these recaps instead. You all get semi-frequent updates and I may get to finally say I completed this challenge! That’s a win-win as far as I’m concerned.
Quick reminder: new teams, CFVY was separated, everything is awful. There, done. Seventy-five pages in we’ve come back to Velvet’s point of view as she and the other students are carted off in airbuses. She’s experiencing the “same shock and dismay” that she saw on Yatsuhashi’s face before they were separated, thus I’d like to re-emphasize last chapter’s argument that though shaking up the teams isn’t inherently a bad idea, doing it in this way while your students are recovering from/still involved in a war is… not so great for their mental health. Yeah, yeah, Remnant is a hard place and these kids experience traumatic events on the weekly, but still. There’s a fine line between preparing students for that kind of life and simply traumatizing them further, because this is a kind of trauma when the teams so heavily rely on one another - fill every aspect of one another’s lives: friend, colleague, family, teacher, student, leader, follower, romantic partner - and you’re now uprooting them with no warning. Whether or not new teams actually happen, the students think they are and that’s messing with their heads. Basically they’re just:
This problem is highlighted when we get confirmation of what I stated last time: the teams aren’t merely colleagues turned friends, but family. These fighters have got all their emotional eggs in one basket. Velvet goes so far as to imply that she loves her team more than her parents, with the logic being that they (her parents) “never talked to each other anymore.” So… if Coco and Yatsuhashi stopped talking would that undermine your love for each of them as individuals? I get what the overall takeaway is - divorce is a nasty business and can leave lasting scars on kids caught in the middle, to say nothing of the fact that, as a young adult, Velvet is poised to start creating a family by choice, not blood - but it’s still an odd way to phrase the issue. Here we have another instance of me picking up on implications due to RWBY, the franchise’s, overall themes. When you’ve got a story so thoroughly touting a teens vs. adults mentality, having Velvet mentally reject her parents for her team reads differently than it otherwise would. Chock that onto the pile that already includes things like, ‘Ruby denies that Qrow ever helped her’ and ‘Yang is no longer a part of grieving for Summer’ and ‘Weiss seems to have forgotten all that Klein did for her.’ There’s a lot of uncomfortable details attached to our heroes and how they see the adults in their lives, parents included.
Velvet doesn’t get to worry for long though. A much happier voice sounds across the airbus and she spots Sun, classically hanging from his tail. Instead of hearing more about her fears we segue into - you guessed it - Sun bashing. The first thought to pop into her head is that Sun “wasn’t with the rest of his team, but knowing Sun, that might have been his decision.”
...Velvet, you just tried desperately to stay with your own team and were (somehow) swept away by the apparently overwhelming crowed (still ridiculous imo). But if you didn’t manage this, what makes you think Sun had a chance? Why is his separation suddenly a potential choice when yours was presented as nothing of the sort? That is some real insistence on thinking the worst of him. I dragged Sun for abandoning his team in Volume 4 because that was abandonment. It was a choice worthy of criticism. This? This was outside of his control and Velvet knows it.
Sun saw her, smiled, and waved. Velvet looked away.
Nice, Velvet.
He comes over anyway and (kindly!) asks if she’s okay. Velvet says no, specifically because “Yatsu and I were separated.” Here we have another example of how close the partners get even within each team. Blake and Yang are inseparable. Ruby talks to Weiss more than her sister (and the concept of her talking to Blake in any meaningfully way is hilarious at this point). Now, despite being separated from her entire team - everyone is in the same awful boat - Velvet frames the situation as just being separated from Yatsuhashi. Later she repeats, “Well, I still want to try to find Yatsu.” So would it be a disappointment to find Fox or Coco instead? It’s especially weird because in the main show we see Velvet and Coco interacting the most. I actually had to look up who Velvet’s partner was because I just assumed our two girls were a duo. Apparently not. I’m not really into the CFVY side of the fandom, but I imagine there’s a substantial ship community for these two based solely on how Velvet embraces RWBY partnerships in this book, outside of the always popular Velvet/Coco, of course.
That’s admittedly a ship I can get behind.
After Velvet unloads all her worries “Sun stared ahead, like he couldn’t quite manage to feel bad.” Attention, readers, this is an important lesson coming up! In fandom spaces I often see people analyzing novels (and other print media/visual media with narration) without taking into consideration the perspective. Unless we’ve got an omniscient perspective we need to take into account that our narrator might, simply put, be wrong (and even then, omniscient unreliable narrators are a popular choice). Often I see readers taking a characters’ thoughts - and words - at face value, which is understandable given that we’re meant to emotionally connect with them, but we have to keep in mind that this is their interpretation of events. We see the story through their eyes, how they perceive the world, but their perception of the world may not be accurate or, at the very least, is open to further interpretation. Sometimes this is used in an obvious, plot-driven manner - there’s a surprise twist for the reader, made possible because our protagonist was likewise kept in the dark - but it applies to our reading of more casual interactions too. This is a good example. Just because Velvet says Sun looks “like he couldn’t quite manage to feel bad” doesn’t mean that’s actually how Sun feels. As we’ve just re-established, Velvet is inclined to think the worst of Sun, or at least consider the worst as a distinct possibility. So if we’re asking the question, “Is Velvet’s perspective accurate to reality here?” weighing her previous assumptions against actions like Sun smiling, waving, and asking how she’s doing, AKA caring about her situation… I’d say no, it’s likely not.
At least she doesn’t outright accuse him of anything. Given that he’s not privy to these insulting thoughts, Sun chatters on about the test. He thinks it “isn’t a bad idea” because, as established, a lot of students lost teammates and are having trouble settling into Shade while still trying to live the life they had at Beacon. Changing the teams could be a “chance to really commit to our new school and our training, and learn from one another in a new way.” That’s what I think!
“Right… Or maybe some of us burned bridges with our team and might be looking for an easy way to avoid fixing those relationships.”
Velvet what the actual fuck. Can our cast NOT be assholes for five minutes??
Sun goes red at the accusation and calls her out on being harsh. “Tough love” Velvet calls it. Okay, no. Tough love is reserved for people you’re actually friends with and is meant to have them face a harsh reality they might be avoiding. Sun is avoiding an overt apology with his team, but we (and Velvet) have been given no indication that his thoughts on the test are a smokescreen to hide ulterior motives, which is what she’s talking about here. Sun clearly wants to make up with his team, he’s just struggling to accept what needs to be done to do that. Tough love would have been Velvet encouraging Sun to use this separation to reflect on what his team means to him and then, regardless of whether they end up back together, apologizing for how he unintentionally hurt them. Not… this. Plus, again, Velvet hasn’t exactly been friendly lately. She has little ground for dishing out “tough love.” You need established “love” before the “tough” part.
In addition, she’s not listening to what Sun’s saying. “If they want us prepared for an attack, breaking up teams sounds counterproductive.” When did Sun mention anything about an attack? That’s your assumption of what’s going down based on the illegal investigation you’ve been assisting with. Sun just said that changing the teams would provide some of them with a much needed clean slate, which is true. Just because that’s not what Velvet needs doesn’t mean it’s not useful for others. As she eventually acknowledges, they can get too comfortable in the roles they’ve been playing.
We get her line about wanting to find Yatsuhashi followed by, “Sun, you do whatever you want. That’s what you’re good at.” Velvet seriously? Then minutes later she’s hoping Sun sticks close to her if he can. Real talk: everyone deserves better than this. ‘Friends’ who constantly act like your presence is a burden, insult you whenever they get the chance, insist such insults are for your benefit (it’s just tough love), but then turn around and play nice when you have something they want... those aren’t friends. Note that Velvet is - both privately and overtly - mean to Sun while he’s just existing in the airbus, going through the same horrible test as her, trying to be nice, and holding an otherwise civil conversation. While trapped on the bus with nowhere to go, Sun is a nuisance despite his best efforts. When the floor suddenly opens up and Velvet is terrified of falling and surviving on her own though, then his presence is desirable. That’s not friendship and in another story I’d praise the author(s) for writing a compelling move from shaky acquaintances to a strong bond… but I’m honestly not sure that the relationship (any of them, really) will improve. Far as I can gather, Myers thinks this is friendship.
So Velvet accuses Sun of always and forever hurting others in his pursuit of doing what pleases him (after checking in on Velvet… literally minutes ago…) which is right around when Scarlet decides to make himself known. He agrees with Sun’s belief that this test will be harder than they assume: “I think you’re right… For a change.” Everything comes with a caveat. Apparently Scarlet has been listening in the whole time, but somehow manages to turn that into an insult as well with “I’ve been standing five feet away. Maybe I’m ready for a new team, too.” Wait, is the implication that Scarlet is further annoyed because Sun didn’t notice him? Do you all have ANY idea how many times a friend has stood right next to me and I didn’t notice them because I was caught up in something like work, a show… a conversation? I’m oblivious af. I get that Sun has things to make up for but at the very least these characters could keep their criticisms to what he’s actually done wrong, not crazy reaches like, ‘Sun probably abandoned his team when everyone was separated’ or ‘Sun was busy talking to Velvet and didn’t notice me eavesdropping, so I guess I don’t mean much to him, huh.’ I’m constantly torn between the presumed realism of this writing - people are unfair in their criticisms, teens do hold unsubstantiated grudges - and acknowledging that Myers seems to have felt confident writing (1) personality and just gave it to everyone. Velvet privately becomes as critical as Coco, who is as vocal as Fox, who agrees with Yatsuhashi, who echoes Sun’s team, and Sun himself often throws that attitude right back. Round and round we go.
As one might imagine, the three begin theorizing about what the test itself will be like. Usually Shade sets up initiation just like this. Students are transported in windowless airbuses, dumped in the desert, and told to find their way home. I’m interested in the bit about how teams are made up not only based on arrival, but also “the manner in which [the students] survived.” It definitely lends support to the assumption I’ve always had that the teams can really be random. At least not entirely. There’s strategy on the part of the instructors, thinking through aspects like, ‘Well, these two students used their wits in this manner so they’d pair together nicely.’ Or the reverse, ‘Put together the strategist with the student in love with blunt force, let them balance each other out.’ I certainly don’t think that Ozpin formed teams based solely on who ran into each other first. Not only do we have agency on the part of the students (Weiss leaves Ruby, then Jaune, then goes back to Ruby), as well as the fact that two sets of partners had to be paired together someway, but Ozpin was also carefully watching their whole performance. If the only thing that mattered was getting back to Beacon with a chess piece, why bother examining their choices? Shade appears to employ a similar setup of careful decisions portrayed as randomness, which would make sense given that Ozpin set up these schools. Though all the headmasters may not realize it (is Theodore a part of the inner circle?), or perhaps don’t agree with his methods overall, Ozpin’s influence is undeniably evident in each institution we’ve seen.
The only difference between normal initiation and this test seems to be that the students have to find a gold figurine this time around. Though as our trio points out, there’s likely to be other differences as well, otherwise the original Shade students would have a pretty significant advantage.
During all this Velvet remanences about Beacon’s initiation and we learn that Ozpin does, apparently, use the whole ‘Throw you into the woods where you’ll find some relic’ setup each year, as Velvet remembers being “thrown into the air” during hers. She also hits on another concern that hadn’t crossed my mind until now: what if a team includes a new student alongside the “more vocal in harassing recruits from Beacon and Haven?” It might do the Shade students some good to get to know the newcomers, but it’s not the newcomers’ responsibility to teach them some basic respect and kindness.
During all this Rumpole, via a screen, has been explaining how the test will go down. Her little info session concludes with her telling them to “Prepare for drop-off… See you back home soon.” I really like that she used the term “home” here. It says something about how she views the school and her students’ place in it, despite the tough attitude and tougher culture of Vacuo.
Turns out, when Rumpole said drop-off she meant that literally. The floor opens up and we get a mix of some students panicking while others just happily jump out.
Yeet.
Like I said, Ozpin’s influence.
I didn’t understand the panic initially - aren’t landing strategies a basic part of huntsmen training, something everyone (except Jaune) is expected to know coming into a school? Isn’t it at least partway through the year when everyone, even firsties, has had practice at this? - until I remembered Rumpole’s comment about how she hoped everyone remembered to bring their weapons this morning.
…that’s one hell of a lesson. Let’s break this down for a second. Yes, everyone at Shade is expected to carry their weapons at all times, but the meeting that started all this was early in the morning and, far as I can tell, entirely unexpected. ‘Supposed to’ is not the same thing as ‘will,’ especially when one is dealing with college-equivalent students who are still figuring expectations out. It’s not outside the realm of possibility that someone did leave their weapon behind. So now what? These buses are thousands of feet in the air, dropping students randomly as they jump/fall. If a student did need help how in the world would a professor assist them? Do they just expect other students to help like Pyrrha did for Jaune? It’s possible given that in a moment Octavia will help Velvet despite seeming to dislike her... but that’s not something I’d want to bank on. Whether a student forgot their weapon or has a weapon unsuited to a landing strategy, they’re going to die from this fall. Yeah, yeah, the test is supposed to be deadly, but what’s there to learn then? You’re dead! The lesson ‘Don’t forget your weapon’ or ‘Find a weapon more suited to landing strategies’ will never stick unless there are contingency plans in place to ensure that students survive their first mistakes.
It just all seems kind of flimsy, like everything works out because the plot says it must, not because I believe this in-world setup is geared towards keeping students alive and teaching them how to survive this world. (The reverse of the story conveniently not killing civilians off during a major grimm attack.) If landing strategies are so crucial to a huntsmen’s work - and we see them a lot - why are students allowed to have weapons like Yatsuhashi’s Fulcrum that, far as I can see, provide you with no way of slowing your descent? What if you don’t have a suitable semblance? Or it hasn’t been unlocked yet? What if your weapon would work, theoretically, but you haven’t taken any pictures of other suitable weapons lately (Velvet)? What if you never figure out that there are parachutes on the ship? Unless the instructors have a secret way of saving someone from getting splattered, this seems like a test rife with deadly mistakes, not just encounters. Why not teach your students to carry mini high-tech parachutes on their belts, with weapons and semblances as backups? Incorporate Atlas tech into standard schooling, then give us huntsmen who suddenly have it taken away with the embargo, resulting in a lot of problems. I mean, the students are legit scared in this scene, Velvet included. Having them face deadly grimm is one thing, but why test the odds with a thousand foot plunge when there’s absolutely no reason to? Far as I can see, the schooling isn’t built around ensuring they survive a fall like this - nothing like weapon requirements, or carrying additional gear if you semblance is something like Ren’s - which means making the fall a part of the test itself is... not great.
Which, to be clear, is the fault of the author(s) and how much thought (or not) they’ve put into their fictional school, not the fictional school’s fault because it’s, you know, fictional. Basically, the world building in this series kind of drives me nuts, in case you haven’t noticed lol.
Velvet does find the parachutes, oh so conveniently, and at least has the decency to give one to Sun. Also yeah, kudos for thinking to search for them in the first place. I do like the ‘survival is the only thing that counts’ theme. Cheating, lying, and the like is great when it’s used because the odds are already stacked against you. We get her agreement to try and stick close because remember, there’s nothing like a dangerous situation to remind you to be decent towards someone else. As Velvet magnanimously thinks, “Being with Sun would be better than being alone.”
Okay. Low bar, but okay.
So they fall and we get to hear a fair bit about Vacuo’s history based on what Velvet remembers about each landmark from history class. Honestly, I’m impressed at her recall. I wouldn’t be able to dredge up class notes while falling through the air. We get an abandoned city previously hidden by sand and the somewhat confusing sentence, “These were all that was left of the underground mines, the Drylands, the site of the old Paradise Oasis, long since dried up following Dust mining and the Great War.” Are these three separate places among the rock-less area pockmarked with holes? Or is this a single area of underground mines, called the Drylands (for some reason?), that includes the contrasting place called Paradise Oasis? I’m not sure. The takeaway though is that Velvet hopes Coco isn’t heading to that ambiguously named place because she’s incredibly claustrophobic.
What I find the most informative in all this is the description of the quarries as “physical manifestations of the wounds that still ran deep in the people of Vacuo.” The overall issue of outsiders coming into Vacuo, draining it of its resources, and then taking it back to their own kingdoms (while leaving their trash behind) is the sort of theme significant to our own lives and worthy of examination in fiction… Not saying that RWBY necessarily handles this theme well - especially given the messy conflation of that generational trauma and the awful treatment of any ‘outsider’ who wanders into the kingdom - but I do appreciate when I can see the series trying. Even if it fails, effort is (to an extent) still worth acknowledgement.
What I’m less inclined to praise is the strange follow up of “maybe that was why Rumpole was sending students there.” …what does this mean? Velvet just told us the quarries are the “wounds” of Vacuo, so are they being sent there because they’re dangerous? Because huntsmen will somehow fix this?? Neither of these make sense but I literally don’t know what point Myers is trying to make… which happens a lot. Again, there’s a whole lot of wise-sounding statements in this novel that, at the end of the day, mean very little - if anything at all.
Velvet eventually lands, nearly getting pulled into one of the openings when she can’t get out of her parachute. She’s saved at the last moment by Octavia Ember, a member of Team NDGO. You know, “One of the people she least wanted to run into.” We all knew the moment Velvet worried about running into one of the crueler members of Shade that it would happen.
Their conversation is filled with heartfelt gratitude and riveting greetings:
“Thanks?” Velvet said.
“Whatever.” Octavia sheathed her blade and started walking away. That was more like it.
What is wrong with all of these people? My kingdom for a kind, enthusiastic, non-team exchange!
You know the ‘enemies forced to work together’ conflict couldn’t end there though (a trope I normally love and would likely love here except having Octavia be another stereotypical mean girl was the least innovative choice possible). She and Velvet end up heading towards the same quarry, simply because there’s nothing else for miles around. Velvet displays some quick thinking when she explains that the instructors likely hid the relics in there to ensure they weren’t forever hidden under the sand. Velvet, unlike Yatsuhashi, has also realized that there’s more to the test than just their fighting skills. They’ll be graded on everything, “Including how we treat each other.” I’m always appreciative of characters who use their brains as much as their brawns.
Perhaps that not-so-subtle nudge resonated with Octavia because she opens up a bit. By this I mean she moves from “Whatever” to telling Velvet the traumatizing story of how she lost a third of her clan to Blind Worms in one of these quarries. Okay. That’s a complete 180, but I’ll take it. Velvet continues to have supposed insights about the Vacuans like, ‘Maybe they don’t cry because that’s a waste of water?’ and ‘Maybe they hate everyone on principal because of the past?’ and ‘I guess bullying is just something you’re supposed to survive out here’ (um… no.) In Velvet - and Myers’ - defense she acknowledges that none of these explanations excuse their actions… but I’m not so sure it explains them either. A few chapters ago we were hammering home how teens don’t have an emotional connection to their past, despite it not actually being that long ago (recall Coco’s conversation with Rumpole in class), but now we’re supposed to believe that all of these teens reject newcomers because of stuff that happened during a war they weren’t alive for? Also, I’m neither a doctor nor an anthropologist, but the concept of a desert people refusing to cry because it’s a waste of water - especially in an otherwise advanced civilization - seems suspect. I can buy someone being unable to cry because they’re currently dehydrated, but a whole culture denying themselves this outlet when most of them don’t actually lack water anymore is odd.
Granted, culture isn’t always logical. Case in point: memes. So let’s give that a pass.
However, we’ve still got the issue of continuity across paragraphs. First Velvet is smug because she’s a better climber than Octavia. Then Octavia is ahead and supposedly annoyed that Velvet was slowing her down. It’s unclear when, or if, they’ve finished climbing at this point and a second later Octavia is climbing a tree - why didn’t Velvet do that? Really, I lay little blips like this at the feet of the editors, not the author(s), simply because as an author I know precisely how easy it is to lose track of every detail you’ve introduced. It becomes obvious to the reader when things don’t quite align, but it will often go unnoticed by the writer - like typos. (RIP my own work.) Which is why you need that second perspective to not just catch the big mistakes, but tweak all the smaller ones too. RWBY is now a part of WarnerMedia and Before the Dawn was published by Scholastic. There’s a standard here I don’t think either is meeting.
As said previously though, Octavia climbs a tree because Velvet - with faunus eyes - spotted a trinket the others had missed. Octavia falls, Velvet catches her, and a whole swarm of Ravagers show up, which seem to be a bat-like grimm. Nice. My gothic, vampire, Stellaluna loving ass can get behind that.
Behold: my childhood.
They make a run for it and we - finally - get some solidarity as Octavia admits that the relic is technically Velvet’s and Velvet wonders in turn if they can share it. I offered my kingdom for a kind exchange and I got it! Hurray! More importantly, apparently that is an option because the airbus coordinates have shown up on both their scrolls. I’m not going to pretend that I understand how that tech works, but that’s a level of world building we don’t actually need. Not unless the hypothetical of students piggybacking on another’s relic is a part of the evaluation.
I love that Velvet used her camera flash to scare off the Ravager in their way. That’s a fantastic twist on the ‘Velvet will use her semblance and impress Octavia’ expectation as well as a great way to demonstrate that she is a formidable fighter, capable of paying attention to her situation/surroundings and responding accordingly.
There are more Ravagers though, incoming Blind Worms, an avalanche… and the airbus. A narrow escape indeed. Octavia drops that attention-catching, “Thank the Brothers” as they reach safety.
Going back to my earlier point about Shade seeming happy to kill its kids, apparently Velvet and Octavia were the last to reach the bus and Sun told the pilot to wait. That says good things about Sun, but horrible things about the test. If Sun hadn’t insisted on staying would Octavia and Velvet have had a way out? Why in the world wasn’t the pilot told to wait longer?? The whole timeline is confusing, with Sun and Velvet leaving the airship only a short time after everyone else, but it looks like the whole group was way ahead of them (the quarry is empty of both relics and people by the time they arrive), except Sun managed to get super far ahead of Velvet somehow, and their pilot was apparently working under an unspoken deadline… I’m just taking information at face value because if you try to piece it all together, good luck.
Also sorry, but I straight up laughed at Sun’s “You woke up the Ravagers. And you lived to tell the tale.” That is so unnecessarily dramatic. Oh no. Not the Ravagers. Literally the first thing I thought of was some B horror movie like
Coming only to a streaming service near your couch because we’re still living through a pandemic. Wear your masks, friends!
Back to this very entertaining reaction. Sun, you and Velvet have both taken out Atlesian knights, you fought a gigantic sea monster with Blake, and Velvet just bypassed a nest of Ravagers with a simple bright light. If RWBY is going to randomly try and make the grimm threatening again, do it with stuff that actually reads as a significant threat to these fighters. After you’ve got your first years blasting through (Yang) and riding (Nora) bear grimm at initiation, a couple of bat grimm just doesn’t cut it.
Moving on, Velvet’s iffy perspective rears its head once more as she thinks, “What if Sun had passed by the trinket in the tree, knowing it would be too dangerous to retrieve it? She and Octavia had not had that luxury.”
There’s a lot wrong with this theory:
How do you know Sun has better vision, even as a fellow faunus? As Volume 7’s Tyrian attack brought to the surface, supposedly not every faunus has that advantage.
Velvet straight up says that she wasn’t able to see the Ravagers, otherwise she would have warned Octavia about them. The whole point is that they startled her and she fell. So what, Sun not only has faunus vision but better than Velvet’s? (Do monkeys have better vision than rabbits? I have no idea, but this is the kind of stuff I would google if I wanted to potentially draw attention to it in my book).
If that trinket was too dangerous to retrieve, why did the instructors put it there in the first place? Fox mentioned things being unfair with his lack of sight, but that’s a pretty big difference: easy grabs in a supposedly abandoned quarry vs. a grab that wakes up the whole nest of grimm.
“She and Octavia had not had that luxury” why does this sound like another dig at Sun? Like it’s worth criticizing that he… got there first? Got lucky with the relics closer to the floor? Probably because everything is a dig at Sun in this book, including Velvet’s surprise that he might have “respect in his eyes.” Velvet! He was just asking about you, made the bus wait, and has always worn his heart on his sleeve! Sun’s respect/care is not in question, only how he chooses (at times) to display it.
Not that the story seems to get that. We can’t work through Sun’s questionable choices if we’re stuck in this never ending loop of ‘He’s so annoying/incompetent/willfully cruel’ into ‘Hark! is that a positive trait I see?’ and then back to ‘Never mind he’s awful.’ Maybe Velvet’s pride at his reaction to the Ravagers will finally move things forward.
Which is where we leave off. The airbus scares off the other Ravagers with its guns, the group heads back towards Shade (or a second part of the test? That did feel too much like a normal initiation to be fair), and Velvet ends with the equally dramatic line, “The initiation ritual had been hard and almost deadly, and even worse was yet to come: the assignment of the new teams.”
I have to say though, that is the most teen-accurate thought I’ve seen so far. An 18 year old would be more scared of their team social life than getting eaten by a monster lol.
On that note, drop a comment or an ask if you feel like being social yourself and I’ll see you during the next burst of NaNoWriMo energy! 💜
[ Ko-Fi ]
48 notes
·
View notes
Last Seen Blogs
pxnn-a
☆sid☆
rts-rf
Roskilde Tekniske Skole på Roskilde Festival
ionomycin
@ionomycin
espidaniel12
DANIEL ESPITIA
bignick1
BoostedNv