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imasimpforshanks · 3 years

Note

hiii, how are you? may i ask angst alphabet for Ace? thank you ❤️

Angst Alphabet - Portgas D. Ace

a/n: hi hi!! here you go! OMG angst is still really hard LOL I don’t want to think about their rough life 😔😔😔😔😔 ANYWHOOOOO thank you for requesting and I hope you enjoy<3

warnings: on the letter S there is mention of self harm

A-Accident (would they blame themselves if you died in an accident?)

Ace would definitely blame himself. He’s always thought he was a no-good demon child, son of a criminal that didn’t deserve to be alive (despite finding people that truly cared and loved him). You dying in an accident and him not being able to do anything about it would just reinforce what he already thinks of himself.

Regardless of your cause of death he is likely to attribute it to your association with himself, and because of that he will think it is entirely his fault, even if he wasn’t present at the time of your death.

B-Break up (How would they break up with you?)

His lessons with Makino really helped him develop manners and just a general sense of acceptable behaviour. So, Ace would just be clear and up front, no mixed messages, no miscommunication. He would take you some place quiet and away from others, and then he would be as honest and vulnerable as possible – it’s the least you deserve. The break-up would be very civil, you would definitely end on good terms (doesn’t make it any less sad though).

C-Crying (how would they make you cry?)

Sometimes Ace can take his teasing a little too far. Usually you can handle it, but there are just some days where his words cut deeper than ever intended (even if they have no malice behind them). It’s not his fault you’re having a bad day, or not realizing you are having a bad day. It’s just one of those things that happens sometimes. As soon as you start to cry though, he apologizes and reassures you so much, to make sure you known he doesn’t mean it and he’s only playing around.

D-Death (how would they react to your death?)

It would start out with a lot of confusion, like “what t-that must be some kind of a sick joke. H-how… w-what… they wouldn’t just die like that.” After it really sinks in that you have in fact died, Ace will just get angry. I don’t see him as much of a crier (spoiler alert – we only see him truly allow himself to cry on two occasions 1) when luffy got crazy hurt as a child and 2) when ace was on deaths door), so I believe he would react with anger.

Regardless of your cause of death (natural causes, accident, died in battle etc.) Ace would be unbelievably angry with himself, the world and you. He would be angry at himself for being unable to save you, someone he cares about and loves deeply. He would be angry at the world and whatever higher being there may be for choosing now to be your time. There are so many horrible, horrible people in the world, yet you had to die? It makes no sense. Lastly, he would be angry at you. Not a genuine anger but more so a “how could you just leave me like this? We were meant to be together forever.”

E-Emotion (what is one emotion they would try to hide the most and how would they do it?)

I think Ace tends to try his sadness. He tries to put on a brave face, not wanting anyone to see him cry as he doesn’t want to be viewed as weak or be even more of a burden on others.

F-Fight (how often do you fight? What do you fight about? Do you fight often? Etc.)

Fights with Ace, although they don’t happen often, can quickly get out of hand. He’s stubborn and his inability to accept that he’s not always right can cause a minor disagreement to escalate into an all-out fight. On a few occasions you have argued about him never turning his back on an opponent.

Your fights tend to be followed by cooldown time. Things can get quite heated (no pun intended) so you need some alone time and space to breathe. After that though, you comeback together and apologize.

G-Guilt (what is the biggest thing they feel guilty about?)

For his entire life, Ace has lived with the guilt of simply existing. He doesn’t think himself worthy of being alive. Can you blame him? It’s all anyone ever told him growing up. Despite eventually finding people who loved him for him, those feelings of inadequacy and worthlessness still remain and continue to plague his mind.

H-Heartbreak (what would cause them pain in the relationship? How would they deal during a break-up?)

During a break-up Ace is quiet. He doesn’t want to be around anyone or anything. He wants to be left completely alone so he can sort out his thoughts and feelings. He’d be quite devasted because he’s had so few people in his life love him on as deep a level as you did.

I-Injured (how would they react if you are badly injured?)

Ace would absolutely lose it if you were injured. He’d be concerned, upset, and angry all at once. First things first, he needs to know if you are going to be ok. Once that’s been established, he’ll be upset at himself for allowing this to happen. This will be replaced by the pure anger he feels at whoever, or whatever, caused this.

J-Jealousy (what do they do if they are jealous?)

When he gets jealous he turns into such a man child. He’s pouting and moping around while mumbling to himself. He develops quite a petty attitude. If you were to ask him “want to go get something to eat?” he’d respond with “why don’t you just go and ask ____ for some food.” But, as soon as you begin commenting on how jealous he’s acting he’s going to deny it to the end of his days.

K-Kill (would they kill for revenge?)

Ace literally hunted down Blackbeard so he could get revenge on him for killing Thatch. It’s not certain whether or not Ace had the intention of killing Blackbeard, however, he definitely had both the spirit and anger to go through with killing him. So, it is possible that Ace would kill for revenge. However, for the most part, he would prefer to just beat them senseless.

L-Loss (what is their greatest loss?)

Either Sabo or his mother’s death, would be considered Ace’s greatest loss. His mother died when he was a new-born, so he doesn’t particularly remember, or know, anything about her other than the fact that she was a kind wonderful woman. However, the loss of Sabo is something he remembers vividly. Losing Sabo had a major impact on Ace. It was an unfortunate wake up call as to how awful the world truly is.

M-Mistake (what is the worst mistake they ever made with you?)

One night, after a particularly bad day filled with a horrible series of events, Ace was letting off some steam (quite literally I suppose). Messing with his devil fruit power, throwing some flames around. He hadn’t noticed your presence and so his flames nearly burnt you. He was horrified, and he only felt worse after he noticed the pure terror in your eyes.

N-Nightmares (how often do they have them? What are they about? How do they deal with it?

Ace has nightmares frequently, they vary, but they all have the same underlying theme, that is, the people in his life don’t actually care about him and only view him the same way everyone else views the son of the pirate kind – a worthless devil with no right to life. He wakes up from his dreams in a sweat and finds himself in desperate need of fresh air (ya know to try and clear his mind). He ends up just sitting out on the deck of the Moby Dick looking up at the sky trying to tell himself it was all a dream. But his insecurity and self-doubt begin to resurface and soon he can’t discern imagination from reality. However, the moment someone else on the crew even speaks to Ace with something as simple as a “morning dude” he’s brought back down to earth and thinks to himself “no that’s right…. They love me… I wouldn’t be here right now if they didn’t.”

It’s a vicious cycle, but in the end, he manages to remember (even if it’s just for a little bit) that he is cherished.

O-Outrage (how and why would they get mad at you?)

When you continuously tell him there’s no need to stay and fight every single opponent. It’s okay to turn and runaway – in fact it’s safer to do that. When you say that he feels as though you don’t understand him. He’s not some careless, impulsive child who’s just looking for a fight (okay maybe he is a little bit). So he doesn’t really get super angry, it’s more so that he is frustrated and a little upset that you don’t try to see it from his perspective.

P-Past (what has happened in your relationship that changed the way you saw each other?)

It’s the same as the worst mistake he’s ever made with you – nearly burning you with his devil fruit. It made you realize that Ace can actually be quite dangerous (although you know he would NEVER hurt you intentionally). It made Ace realize that he needs to be more careful, the look of pure terror in your eyes has stayed with him ever since that incident, serving as a reminder.

Q-Quality (what is their most dangerous/toxic quality?)

His tendency to not back down from a fight is simultaneously his most endearing and toxic trait. He constantly places himself in dangerous situations with minimal concern for his own safety.

R-Rejection (how would they react to you rejecting their confession (or the other way around))

Having his confession rejected by you was definitely a blow to his self-esteem, but he respected and accepted your feelings. Instead of moping around about it he decides to laugh it off, trying to make light of a slightly disappointing situation.

S-Scars (battle or self-inflicted)

Ace does not have any scars, battle related or self-inflicted.

TW self-harm: I do think ace got worryingly close to self-harming, but Sabo and Luffy made him rethink it all.

T-Trust (have they ever broken your trust?)

The one and only time Ace broke your trust was after Blackbeards betrayal. You made him promise to take you with him when he left to hunt down Blackbeard because you didn’t want him to go alone. He promised but he had no intention of keeping that promise.

U-Urge (how badly do they want to see you after you guys separated?)

For a while Ace manages to get by by keeping himself preoccupied. But as soon as he lets up for even a minute, he realizes how much he misses you and is beyond tempted to just sail on back to wherever you are and tackle you to the ground plastering your face in lil kisses. When he’s not distracted, he really does miss you a lot. He hyper-fixates on what you could be doing at this very moment, whether or not you miss him too etc.

V-Vicious (what do they do when they lash out on you?)

When ace gets mad, he tends to get very loud. He raises his voice quite a lot and it becomes very, very frightening. He would never physically hurt you, but the anger and frustration in his voice is more than another to scare the shit out of you.

W-Weak (what makes them feel weak how do they try to avoid it?)

Constantly being reminded or associated with the Pirate King. Maybe it doesn’t make him feel weak, but it makes him feel horrible inside and stirs up a lot of feelings and remarks people would make when he was younger. Unfortunately, once word gets out there isn’t much Ace can do to stop this from happening, however, before this, Ace avoided this by not telling ANYONE. He only told Luffy and Sabo, with a very small handful of others knowing (i.e Garp).

X-X-ray (what do they hate and show it most obviously?)

He hates turning his back on a fight or turning his back on people that talk shit about those he cares about. This is seen during the Marineford arc. He doesn’t let Akainus words about Whitebeard slide. He doesn’t runaway. He has no tolerance for that shit.

Y-Yearn (what is one thing that they want but can’t have?)

Ok this may be dark as hell but, Ace just wants to not feel like a burden to the world. He wants to be viewed as something different/separate from his father, but he can’t change history.

Z-Zero (what do they do/say in your dying moments?)

He doesn’t let you go. He’ll hold on to you until he is forcefully separated from your body. He just starts to spout a lot of nonsense – things don’t make sense at all, but he can’t help it right now. He can’t think properly when you’re about to leave him. He just wants you to stay.

#one piece #one piece x reader #one piece headcanons #one piece imagines #portgas d ace #angst alphabet #one piece alphabet #portgas d ace x reader #fire fist ace

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moonlitceleste · 3 years

Audio

I highly recommend wearing headphones or earbuds while listening for the full effect! The song used in the audio is Parasite Eve by Bring Me the Horizon; the rock I listen to usually isn't this heavy but this song seemed fitting for the plot.

The audio and story were a bit rushed, and I was also really tired when I wrote this so sorry for any mistakes!

Let me know if you want me to continue making these! They take a long time, so if you enjoy them I’d really appreciate if you interacted with this post :D

The low purr of Jason’s car slowly died as it came to a halt in what was one of Gotham’s considerably least shitty parking lots.

And when he said “least shitty,” he meant it. Nothing in Gotham was good, let alone extraordinary enough to deserve higher praise.

Jason got out of the sleek black vehicle and closed the door, taking care to lock it before he stuffed the keys into the inner pocket of his faux leather jacket.

It was of high quality and material; he wouldn’t have bought it if not for the behest of Tim, but now he admitted the purchase was a good one. A few years ago his younger brother gained rapid interest in someone by the name of MDC; within a day, he easily found out the young designer’s identity and somehow pestered her into taking him on as a client. If Bruce was any indication, he probably left her no choice.

Speaking of the designer, she was partly responsible for his current situation.

A year ago MDC revealed her identity to the public and started to appear by Jagged’s side on tour, both as a designer and a performer. How she managed to do this while running a business and taking commissions, Jason had no idea—but he respected her ability to juggle all that work, especially since she was only a few years younger than him.

(It was worth mentioning that he didn’t learn this all this on his own—between Tim and Dick’s constant discussion of her, the information was practically drilled into his head. They were the fanboys, not him.)

A while after her reveal, Jagged announced he was going on a worldwide tour for the first time in years. It was only natural that one of those stops be his hometown, so the rockstar sent Bruce enough VIP tickets for the whole family and then some—which is why Jason was currently standing in the middle of a kind-of-shitty parking lot.

He hadn’t planned on going to the concert, rather opting to stay at home, go on patrol, and relax with a good book. But his plans fell through with the unusually low crime rate. He circled around various areas multiple times, but the only disturbances he stumbled across were petty thefts. It was as if all the criminals had collectively agreed to stop their plans for the night.

Yeah right, as if they’re all going to attend Jagged Stone’s concert or something.

Jason snorted at the thought.

He shook his head, pulling himself out of his thoughts to continue walking. He was already an hour late, not that it mattered.

A loud whoop caused him to tense, but Jason relaxed slightly at the sight of a small group.

There were three girls and one boy; none seemed particularly threatening, judging by appearance and gait, but it was Gotham. One could never be too careful.

One of the girls, short-haired and clearly tipsy, slung her arm around a blonde’s shoulders and pulled her in for a sloppy kiss. Their friends chatted loudly beside them, disturbing the relative quiet of the night.

Damn, I’m lonely.

Jason sent a harsh shut up to whatever voice in his head that decided to say that and approached the usher at the booths near the venue entrance.

He showed his pass and was pointed towards his destination, but the directions were unneeded. The booming music and cheers were more than enough to let him know where he was supposed to go.

After pushing past countless bodies and showing his pass to a security guard, Jason finally reached the VIP floor. He tuned out the music, keeping his eyes peeled for any sign of his family, and spotted them within a matter of seconds. It wasn’t hard considering how large their group was.

Stephanie was the first to see him. She waved him over while shouting something, presumably his name, and he followed.

Jason winced internally as he sidled up next to them; whoever was stuck behind his 6’4” frame was likely very annoyed.

He took a few seconds to settle in before turning his eyes to what everyone else was looking at.

In the middle of the elevated stage was Jagged Stone, shredding on his guitar and bobbing his head up and down to the beat.

He was costumed in an intricate, eye-catching outfit—quite literally.

The rhinestones on his black jacket caught and reflected the purple lights that shone above, and he shimmered with every movement.

Accessories were piled top to bottom, with his signature black lace gloves only being one of them.

Jason didn’t know much about design, but the outfit came across as intentionally showy rather than garish, which seemed like an impressive feat considering the sheer amount of components included.

Speaking of design, the girl a few feet away certainly didn’t escape his attention.

She was adorned in a short red dress with thin straps, a cowl neck, and a satin material. A leather jacket, combat boots, and the same lace fingerless gloves the older performer was sporting completed the look.

Damn, was the first thought that came to Jason’s mind.

Although he knew better than to underestimate women, he found himself shocked by the powerful vocals that spilled from her mouth. For someone so short, she certainly had a large pair of lungs.

Her voice was a far cry from Jagged’s growls and classic rock screams, but fit in nonetheless.

If anything, it was a light contrast to the heavy-hitting beat and the bass which reverberated through the venue, like how chefs used lemon to cut through the heaviness of a dish.

The way she moved with such poise was captivating, and the smile she wore as she lost herself in the music reeled Jason in.

He could only stare as she belted each note with ease, and the fleeting thought of what she’d look like in his leather jacket passed through his mind.

This train of thought was abruptly cut off as Steph sent a sharp nudge into his side.

Jason looked over, and she started mouthing the lyrics to the song rather aggressively while making exaggerated motions. He assumed this was her way of telling him to start dancing with the crowd.

She looked at him expectantly, to which Jason rolled his eyes, but when she looked away he subtly started moving his feet to the music.

Maybe going to a concert with his family wasn’t so bad—and when he thought of a certain designer, he couldn’t lie and say he wasn’t grateful for those backstage VIP passes. Now all he had to do was make sure he asked her out before Tim could.

PERMANENT TAGLIST (some of you might not remember asking, but I was reading the comments under my first fic and saw that you asked to be added. if you don’t want to be on the list anymore, just ask and I can take you off!) @avengerthewarrior @bluesimani @enternalempires @flower-girll @freesportspalacesalad @glastwime859 @h1sss @heart-charming @jalaluvsu @kitsunebell @moongoddesskiana @nathleigh @too0bsessedformyowngood

#maribat #celestewrites #jasonette #please don't let this flop aksdhsj #cel’s fics

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hellsbellschime · 4 years

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In s8 when Sansa ask questions about food problems with Dany it's call back to Jon asking same questions with stannis. So Jon call Sansa oversmart asking same questions he asked to previous monarch. Not only that he give Dany reason for Sansa not liking her is bcoz she also hated him. How Sansa not liking him in childhood is same as not liking a tyrant? Jon has problem with Sansa undermining him but clearly not him taking Sansa for granted. D&d messed up his character.

LOL they didn’t mess up his character, they sacrificed him on Dany’s altar because they didn’t want to fully commit to the fact that she was a war criminal about to commit atrocities in Westeros on a scale that no one in human history has ever seen before. Because I don’t know if you noticed, but literally all of Jon’s shitty behavior towards Sansa makes complete sense through the lens of someone who actually does understand that Dany is very dangerous and easily triggered/offended.

Jon was Lord Commander of the Night’s Watch, so he absolutely understands the math when it comes to feeding people in the North. He had to manage the most desolate and difficult to live in place in probably the entire North, and he knows how valuable food storage and basic accounting skills are. He also knows from his time on Dragonstone when he witnesses Dany’s fit over Cersei “taking all the food from the Reach” that Dany has NOT planned for her food situation in this invasion, despite the fact that she is commanding a force literally 100x the size of the Night’s Watch. He also knows that her closest adviser is a Northman who lives on an island in the far North, who is old enough to have survived at least two winters and therefore knows how desperate the food situation gets in the North in winter. And again, he knows that Dany has agreed to go North with him but no one else in Dany’s retinue has even brought this issue up. Understandably, if even her closest advisers aren’t pointing these problems out to her for some reason, he’s not going to push her when she has been so insanely reluctant to help him in the first place, despite the fact that her “throne” is entirely dependent on beating the Others anyway.

So in a sense, he actually is correct in saying that Sansa’s being too smart for her own good. Or rather, she’s actually claiming her right as a Stark to have a say in how the Northerners are treated when a conqueror shows up and expects to be treated like a guest, but Jon knows that testing Dany’s patience is a mistake. Frankly, Sansa IS just saying what she says to be an asshole. She knows that Tyrion isn’t this dumb, she knows Jon isn’t this dumb, and she knows that obviously there isn’t any food incoming from Dany’s side of the table. She’s not asking this question in the hopes of actually getting food, she’s asking it rhetorically because she knows everyone else is thinking it and because it’s her responsibility as the Lady of Winterfell to ensure everyone in the North that she has called to retreat there and who has given Winterfell a massive portion of their harvest in exchange for the protection that the Warden of the North is supposed to be offering in exchange for everyone’s fealty. Dany rolls up with a massive sense of entitlement and expects everyone to be grateful for her arrival, and Sansa is both allowing what everyone else is thinking to be heard and explaining to Dany exactly why there wasn’t a ticker tape parade waiting for her in the North.

HOWEVER, once again Jon is correct in saying that Sansa is thinking she’s smarter than everyone by speaking out, not because she said something that hadn’t occurred to anyone else, but that she should follow everyone else’s lead and ignore it. Because while Jon doesn’t know things like the fact that Dany burned Dickon Tarly (burning both the Tarlys is important, but I think it’s really worth keeping in mind that Dany literally burned someone alive because they basically said “well I’ll die too then” and she was like “ya okay,” like can you really fathom the nuttiness of a ruler executing one person and having another person be like “I volunteer” and just agreeing to it without asking any follow up questions whatsoever), he does know that she would let the entire North die if they wouldn’t bow to her. Basically, he knows that Sansa is underestimating how little Dany values life and how little respect she has for feudal law. Like, Sansa is speaking out because even Cersei, FFS even JOFFREY wouldn’t likely execute a high lord or lady for speaking out of turn, but Jon at the absolute VERY least knows that Dany is temperamental, easily offended, and has ZERO regard for what the king or queen of Westeros is actually obligated to do or not do. He knows that she literally calls herself protector of the Seven Kingdoms but will not actually protect them unless they hand over everything to her and smile while they do it despite the fact that she’s a complete stranger.

Jon is actually being smart by framing it in the way of “she didn’t like me either when we were children”. It’s extremely demeaning to Sansa and undercuts her intelligence and authority completely, which seems to be the point. It reframes the situation and makes it a Sansa problem instead of a Dany problem, and it implies that Sansa is that naturally prickly to everyone, not just Dany. And of course, by saying “when we were children” it literally makes it seem like Sansa is being childish and petty. Obviously none of these things are true, but after being that publicly disrespected Jon knows that Dany is going to need a lot of ego soothing, and ironically undermining Sansa is the easiest way to do that.

I feel like the show didn’t quite know where the fuck it was going with this storyline up until the very end, however it’s very hard to ignore the fact that literally all of these behaviors and choices make sense within the context of Jon knowing that Dany is dangerous and unpredictable, and the only thing that DOESN’T back that up is that even after Dany is dead Jon never once acknowledges that she was really dangerous. I’m almost certain D&D had a specific idea in mind and just pulled the chute at the last minute, because literally EVERY character who meets Dany in Westeros has oodles of subtext acknowledging that she’s not a benevolent savior and that she’s actually scary as hell and completely unpredictable, and then at the very end all of these people who were behaving in ways that recognized that before were suddenly shocked and confused by her behavior, and conflicted about whether or not she needed to die for what she did. So yes, D&D did mess up his character, because they built up one character at the expense of everyone else (and managed to ruin her too really) and then chickened out when it came time to pull the trigger at the last fucking gasp of the series.

#Anonymous #jon snow #anti jonerys #anti got

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nightwingmyboi · 4 years

Text

Dick Grayson and Temper

For whatever reason, Dick’s temper has become one of the main traits that people focus on when looking at Dick’s character. This isn’t necessarily a bad thing, since he does have quite the temper, but since it has become one of those essential aspects of his personality for a lot of people, I just wanted to clarify a few things I think get misconstrued?

Certain people take Dick having a temper and equate it with him having anger issues or thin skin. It’s bled into art, text posts, fics...where Dick is described/shown essentially as a petty asshole, someone who has a tendency to overreact and lash out at family and friends, someone who is whiny and always complaining (@bigskydreaming goes a little more into this perception here). I don’t think this is a fair interpretation of Dick’s character at all. There are two main things I feel like people need to keep in mind when thinking about Dick’s temper.

1.) Dick’s infamous temper is, 9 times out of 10, directed at criminals.

Nightwing (1996) #65

When Dick mentions struggling with his temper, he is almost always talking about the anger he feels towards criminals, not loved ones. When he sees people hurt or in danger, especially those closest to him, he gets pissed and can go too far. He often gets angry in defense of his family and those he protects.

Titans Vol. 2 #29

Batman and Robin #12

In fact, one of the biggest examples of his temper is him beating the Joker to death, as a result of the Joker killing Jason and Tim. Like many heroes, Dick struggles with not crossing the line when faced with crime; this doesn’t mean that he is the same way with those he loves.

2.) In most circumstances, Dick has demonstrated excellent control of his anger. So, Dick may have a bad temper...but it usually doesn’t make an appearance unless he is under an immense amount of pressure (and sometimes not even then).

Injustice Gods Among Us #16

Dick’s not a doormat and he can be confrontational if that’s what is needed to get the job done, but he is also known for keeping a cool head under immense pressure and stress. He’s known in the superhero community for resolving conflict and has often been called “the glue” that keeps various teams together. That wouldn’t mesh with the idea that he is constantly losing his temper. In fact, his middle name might as well be de-escalation, because that’s pretty consistently what he does. Look at how he acts in various arguments:

Example #1: While Nightwing is off-world with the Titans, Jason dies. Likely struggling with grief, Bruce doesn’t attempt to contact Dick while he is off world or when he returns. Dick is left to find out through a teammate, Danny Chase. Despite being left in the dark, Dick still goes to the cave to try to support Bruce. He puts his feelings to the side, and doesn’t even bring up the fact that he was hurt by Bruce’s exclusion. Unfortunately, the conversation derails regardless, and Bruce ends up hitting Dick and telling him that it was a mistake to invite Dick into his life.

The New Teen Titans #55

Look at how Dick reacts. Even when Batman hits him and yells extremely harsh things at him, he doesn’t lash out in turn or yell back. He keeps calm and continues to talk to Batman; he likely understands that this is a product of Bruce’s grief and as a result allows his feelings/hurts to go unaddressed.

Example #2 (inspired by @hood-ex post here): Garth loses his temper when he learns that the Titans won’t help him with a problem he’s having. When Robin tries to stop the fight, Garth punches him.

Teen Titans (1966) #28

After he takes the hit, Dick continues to try to keep people from fighting, and in the end, Dick once again puts his bruised feelings to the side and doesn’t say a word of complaint to keep team unity. He still goes and helps Garth with his problem.

Example #3: After Donna’s death, Dick was devastated. He spiraled into depression. In the aftermath, he was stricter and quicker to anger than he would normally be. Even his leadership of the Outsiders was effected, and as a result, Anissa, Black Lightning’s daughter, was seriously hurt. Black Lightning is not pleased; he slams Nightwing against a wall and yells at him.

Outsiders (2003) #16

Even when Dick is emotionally compromised and short tempered, he still isn’t looking for a fight. He doesn’t retaliate when Black Lightning slams him against the wall, and he doesn’t interrupt when Pierce tears into him (for a whole page of the comic). It’s not like Pierce goes easy with his criticism; yet, Dick remains stoic and takes it. He doesn’t say a word of complaint or defense, and he doesn’t lash out. He keeps his temper under control. (Just an fyi for those wondering, but this is definitely one of those times Dick deserved a harsh talking to, lmao, support you Black Lightning!!)

Example #4: The Batfam is fighting a villain known as Mother, who is known for brainwashing people. Anyone could be in her control, so when Tim is acting suspiciously, Dick decides to investigate to ensure that Tim is not a double agent. Dick finds out that Tim secretly kept his family in a hidden location to protect them, and unintentionally brings trouble to their door. On the flip side, Tim gets angry at Dick for sneaking around behind his back and putting his family in danger. Though Dick tries to explain his actions, Tim won’t hear it and instead throws a punch.

Batman and Robin Eternal #5

Even when Tim punches him out of the blue, ironically because he can’t control his temper, Dick just takes the hit and lets him walk away. He doesn’t ever push Tim for an apology, and Tim never gives one. The rest of the series, people give Dick crap for betraying Tim’s trust, and despite Dick’s reasonable concerns being the impetus for his actions, Dick accepts the other’s criticism without complaint.

Examples #5-57: Just think of all the times that Damian insulted Dick and told him he couldn’t cut it and generally was acting like a little shit, when Dick was struggling with Batman’s death and with taking on the cowl and with running Bruce’s life, and Dick still never gave up on Damian and gave him Robin. Very patient, very thick skin.

And I could add even more moments! I don’t mean to go overboard, but the idea is that, over pretty much his entire history, from Robin to Nightwing to Batman and back, there are more times that Dick puts his feelings to the side and lets people yell at him (and basically physically assault him RIP) for the greater good, then times he flies off the handle and loses his temper, especially when compared to other characters in the Batfam. Seeing people say that Dick is secretly an angry asshole when pushed a little or is always blowing things out of proportion and being whiny is just annoying, especially when Dick canonically has worked very hard to keep his cool and mediate in various tense situations, even when he has reason to get offended and retaliate.

And this isn’t me saying that Dick can’t lash out, cause duh he’s a human being and he’s not perfect. He does have a temper and sometimes can say harsh things to those he loves. But, he doesn’t usually lose his cool, and when he does it is usually a surprise. The rarity of Nightwing giving into his temper is part of the reason it is so impactful when he does fly off the handle.

A lot of the panels you see floating around about Dick’s temper are 1) from times he was brainwashed or mentally influenced (Dick yelling at Donna, Alfred, and Joey are all from a single time when he was brainwashed by Brotherblood for example), 2) from times he was in great emotional/mental distress from the deaths of those close to him, or 3) examples of times that Dick is standing up for himself, that I don’t really see as him having a temper? And a lot of those fights/arguments that are shown are not as one sided as tumblr makes them seem, lmao. Either way, most of these times aren’t really representative of his normal behavior or attitude.

In conclusion, Dick isn’t some petty jerk with anger management issues; he’s a human being, who sometimes gets angry and upset like every other human being in the world. He has a temper, but I don’t feel like it should define him in the way and to the extent that it currently does.

P.S. This isn’t me trying to excuse the times that Dick has been nasty and let his temper run away from him, obviously. Like I said, he’s human and he’s made mistakes. But he doesn’t lash out normally or often. I’m just trying to put things in perspective.

#batman is prob the only one who can really make him lose it #and bruce kind of deserves a little talk back in my opinion lmao #plus his temper has literally vanished into thin air #in these rebirth comics #so for people to be making it so integral #is just trying to make Dick out to be a jerk lmao #nightwing #dick grayson #bruce wayne #batman #tim drake #red robin #teen titans #outsiders #temper #dick grayson temper #character analysis #meta

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pucksnsticksnhockeyboys · 4 years

Text

reputations

summary: you’re criminally good, and Matt can’t help but fall in love with you.

warnings: mentions of alcohol

word count: 3.7k

note from the writer: I really wrote this in one night, immediately after posting my last Matt fic. I might have a problem. lmk what you think!

part two

Matthew knew he was no angel. If it wasn’t the opposing players he pested on a daily basis, it was the media that told him so. Most of the time, he didn’t mind. Fights, penalties, and suspensions—he couldn’t help but agree that he was a pest on the ice. He knew he deserved some of the shit he got, but he was getting better and growing as a player.

But sometimes he wished he had a better reputation.

“Matt, your girlfriend is outside.” His brother’s voice interrupted his thoughts. Matt hated that he knew who Brady was talking about. Despite the fact that it had been seemingly forever since he was in an actual relationship, Brady’s tease made perfect sense to the entire Tkachuk family.

“Shut up.” Matt shot back, because he couldn’t argue, and he was too busy getting up off the couch and heading outside to listen to the jabs his brother was throwing at him. He was too far gone and had long since admitted that to himself.

The summer sun beat down on him the moment he stepped into the backyard, and he took a moment to squint his eyes to adjust before heading over to the fence separating his backyard from the one next door. Brady had been telling the truth, the one girl he couldn’t get off his mind since middle school was outside and the wide smile that grew on his face was one he couldn’t help.

You were as good as they came. Weekends spent volunteering at animal shelters, tutoring, helping the older couples in the neighborhood with yard work and other chores. He was pretty sure the moment he decided he wanted to marry you was when you had shown up to Taryn’s first varsity field hockey game with a giant sign saying something about how she would kill it just because you knew it would make her laugh.

Matt nearly tripped when he spotted you on the other side of the fence. You were suntanning in nothing more than a bikini, laying on a towel in the grass in your own backyard. For what seemed like the millionth time in his lifetime, Matt thanked whatever higher power that was up there that his family moved into the house next to yours all those years ago.

For a second, he stayed quiet, just admiring how good you looked. Sunglasses were perched on your nose as you laid on your back, arms tucked behind your head. Your music was playing softly from the speaker laying in the grass a few feet away and you were humming along quietly. He couldn’t stop the smile that grew on his face as he studied you, resting his forearms along the top of the fence with his chin tucked on top of his hands. He knew he needed to make his presence known, figuring he wouldn’t be able to explain why he kept quiet and watched you tan without sounding like a creep.

“I’ve been home for two days and you haven’t come see me yet?” He teased, his grin growing two sizes when he spotted how you lit up at the sound of his voice. Your smile was infectious, and it was the only thing keeping his gaze north of your chest as you sat up on the towel.

“Matty!” You cheered, pushing your sunglasses to the top of your head. You were the only person that Matt allowed to call him that, and he was certain that if his teammates ever found that out they would never let him hear the end of it. You stood up, making your way towards Matt and he could feel his heart pounding faster in his chest as you got closer. It was a miracle you hadn’t managed to kill him yet.

“How’ve you been?” Matt found himself asking, though the question felt a little pointless. He knew how you had been, you texted daily and even the stuff you didn’t tell him—which was a rare occurrence—he found out from his siblings.

“Oh, you know. Same old, same old.” You said boredly, waving a hand dismissively. Matt knew that wasn’t true, he could see the smile you were suppressing. Plus, all of his conversations with you as of late had been about one thing.

“Congrats on graduating, by the way.” Matt wasn’t sure it was possible, but your smile widened as he spoke. You looked happy, but that didn’t stop the feeling of guilt that was bubbling inside him. “Sorry I couldn’t make it.”

“Don’t worry about it.” You squeezed his forearm from where it was resting on the fence, and it took all of Matt’s willpower to not melt under your touch. “You were busy chasing the cup, and I know for a fact that you’ll win it for me next time.”

And then you jokingly winked at him, and suddenly Matt forgot how to breathe. He knew you were teasing, but the fact of the matter was that he knew if he was going to win the cup for anyone besides his parents, it was you.

“And besides, you’re coming to my grad party, right? I need someone there to save me from my relatives asking about where I’m working in the fall.” You continued, and for the second time in ten minutes Matt had been interrupted from his thoughts.

“You don’t already have seven jobs lined up?” Matt teased you. For as long as he could remember, you were always ten steps ahead of everyone. He distinctly remembers you stressing out at eleven years old because you got a seventy-five on a test and thought it would go on your permanent record and you wouldn’t get accepted into college.

“Shut up.” You rolled your eyes, nudging his arm playfully as the both of you chuckled. Matt felt a bit repetitive, thinking about how beautiful you were. He was sure he looked like a lovestruck idiot, but he couldn’t help himself. His self-control was low to begin with, but throw you into the mix and he was absolutely done for. “I’ve applied to a few places, interviewed at some. I’ve got my eye on one place, though.”

“Any places I know?” Matt was a little caught off guard since he hadn’t heard about you applying. He knew you were looking into some places, some in St. Louis and some out of state, but he didn’t realize you started taking the next step. A nervous look flashed in your eyes, and Matt wondered what could have prompted it, but as soon as it was there, it was gone, and you were back to smiling brightly at him.

“And ruin the surprise when I finally land one of the jobs? Not a chance, Hotshot.” You teased with a shake of your head. Matt knew you like the back of his hand. He knew how you liked your coffee and that you hated when he got into fights. He knew that you were a romantic and that you were a little self conscious about your laugh because when you were fifteen and Danny Baker from three streets up told you he thought it was weird. That was the closest he ever got to punching someone off of the ice—and sometimes he still thought about giving the guy a piece of his mind.

And he knew that the nickname ‘Hotshot’ was your way of trying to deflect, and he knew enough to drop the subject. Not that he had a choice, really, because your phone started buzzing from where you left it on your towel. When you bent down to pick it up, he busied himself by admiring the flowers he knew you helped your mom plant instead of blatantly checking out your ass.

“Hey. Matty, I’ve got to go. Mrs. Henderson asked if I could help her with the bake sale for her son’s soccer team.” You spoke up after checking your phone. Matt couldn’t help the way his heart flipped at the fact that you were still volunteering for families around the neighborhood. The only time he could remember actually volunteering, not including Flames events, was when he needed to fill his high school requirement to graduate.

God, you were too good for him.

“Yeah, I’ll see you at the party tomorrow.” He waved as you retreated into your house. He watched as you left, only pushing off the fence and heading back into his own once you shut your back door. He made his way into the kitchen, finding his whole family already in there and looking at him with smug grins. Matt just knew they had been watching his entire interaction with you out of the kitchen window.

Brady was the first to speak up, making obnoxious kissing noises while Taryn started saying your name in increasingly higher pitched voices trying to mock how gone he was for you. He rolled his eyes at his sister, but that didn’t stop him from putting Brady into a headlock.

“If you boys break something…” His mom trailed off, giving her boys a pointed look over the glass of water she was sipping on. The empty threat was enough to get Matt to let go of his brother, but not before messing up his hair for that extra bit of pettiness.

“Leave Matt alone, he’s in love.” His dad teased, looking much too proud of himself at his comment for Matt’s liking. He groaned, dropping his back to further prove his annoyance before he grabbed a drink out of the fridge and left the room.

He still couldn’t argue his family’s comments.

Matt didn’t see you again until it was time to head over for your graduation party, and it took everything in him to not stop dead in his tracks when he spotted you across the yard. You were talking to a few of your extended family members, he was sure he had met them once or twice over the years, and you looked effortlessly stunning. You were wearing a new sundress, he was certain of that because if you had worn it before he would have remembered, what with the way it made your legs look, especially paired with what he knew were your favorite pair of wedges.

Brady knocked into his shoulder, sending him a smirk before slipping off to find a drink. Matt rolled his eyes at his brother, letting his attention fall back to you. His breath hitched as you turned to face him, and he wondered if you felt the weight of his stare. He didn’t have much time to ponder, though, because he recognized the look in your eyes. It was the one that told him those were the family members you told him you’d need rescuing from.

He crossed the lawn quickly, smiling warmly at your mom when she called his name and waved. He’d greet her properly later, you were his current priority. You were his priority all the time, if he was being honest with himself.

“Hey, Matty.” You smiled and as soon as he got close enough your arm slid around his back. He copied your action, his hand settling a respectable distance up on your waist. Before he could stop himself, he pressed a kiss to the side of your head, even though he probably shouldn’t be so blatant in his affection in front of distant family.

“Is this a boyfriend?” Your—great aunt?—questioned. Matt felt his face flush at the idea, he spent the better part of his adolescence imagining what it would be like to call you his. But he never could get himself to make a move. Too nervous to lose you and too worried about what moving away would do to your relationship—if it even got that far.

And then there was the problem of his reputation.

He had grown up watching you do all these amazing things for your education and to help other people. You always had a smile on your face and cried for an hour at the ending of Marley and Me. You even volunteered to help move Brady to Boston when he left to go play hockey there.

He pushed around six ounces of vulcanized rubber on ice. In his mind, he didn’t measure up to you in the slightest. As much as he wanted you, he felt as if he didn’t deserve you.

“No, this is just Matt, he lives next door.” You explained sweetly and Matt forced a smile on his face as he shook hands with your relatives. He hated how terrible your words sounded to his ears, how he was ‘Just Matt’ to you.

“Hey, Taryn said she needs to talk to you, it’s urgent.” Matt lied after a few moments of watching you squirm under the interrogation your relatives were putting you through. From the mischievous look in your eyes he could tell you knew what he was doing. You politely told your relatives that you would see them later, and Matt’s heart jumped in his chest as you slipped your hand into his to pull him away.

“Thank you.” You said to him under your breath, giving his hand a squeeze before dropping it as you reached the drink coolers. Matt grinned at you, watching as you pulled out two beers for the both of you. “They hit me with questions about my love life, job prospects, and whether or not I’ll be moving out of my parent’s house before you arrived.”

“Sorry I didn’t get there sooner.” Matt teased, taking a sip out of his bottle while watching you shudder playfully. He tried to ignore the green monster that settled in his stomach at the thought of you having a love life, no matter how selfish it sounded. Instead, he focused on the way you smiled at him, and how warmly you interacted with his mom when she came over to give you a celebratory hug.

Seeing you laughing with his mom was doing nothing for the feelings he had harboured for you.

By the time darkness started to settle on the party, the majority of the guests had left. Besides your parents, him and his siblings, and a few of your cousins that were spending the night, your backyard was empty. Your dad had started a campfire so everyone could make s’mores, and you seemed to think it was the best part of the day. You were probably feeling the effects of the beers you had been sipping on, though you only had one or two, and tried to feed Matt a s’more, giggling uncontrollably when you got marshmallow in the scruff of his beard.

He just about died when you flicked your finger across his chin to collect the marshmallow, absentmindedly licking it off as you laughed at something Taryn said. His gaze zeroed in on your finger, and the fact that you had no idea the effect that you had on him was dizzying.

“Get a room.” Brady groaned, though he had been sitting next to Matt and spoke low enough that the parents sitting on the opposite side of the fire didn’t hear. Matt was also lucky that you didn’t hear, distracted by your phone ringing. He glanced at the screen out of habit and a little bit of nosiness, seeing that it was a number you didn’t have saved to your contacts before you jumped to your feet and retreated inside to take the call.

If he had been looking a little closer, he would have recognized that the number had an area code for Calgary.

You had been gone for a few minutes and Matt was starting to get restless. Your mom came out of the house and handed him two popsicles, one for him and one for you, so he figured you were coming back soon.

You did, and you were wearing a wide grin that made him curious. You didn’t say anything, instead you took one of the popsicles and slipped your hand into his now free one, tugging lightly to signal for him to stand up. Once more, you led him across the lawn, only this time you went around the house to the front yard, away from the prying eyes of both your families.

“What’s up?” Matt questioned as soon as you came to a stop in front of him. You were grinning up at him, and he could tell from the look in your eyes that you had news to share.

“I got a job. My top choice one, actually.” You stated as if it was something boring, like the weather. Matt beamed at you, the feeling of pride he had in you coming to the surface the same way it did whenever you accomplished something you wanted.

He wrapped you in his arms almost instantly, careful not to knock your popsicle out of your hand or get his in your hair. He held you tight to his chest, never wanting to let you go.

“Where is it?” He asked after letting you go. Your smile grew wider as he looked at you, and he raised a brow as you hesitated. The longer you stayed quiet, the more he started to panic. He knew it was selfish, but he didn’t want you to leave St. Louis. The best part of coming home during breaks or playing the Blues on their ice was the fact that he would get to see you.

“Calgary. Surprise?” You chuckled nervously, but Matt felt like he had just been told the best news. After years apart for college and hockey, you finally would be close to him again. He was ecstatic, and couldn’t help himself before pulling you into another hug,

“Surprise is right.” He teased as soon as he moved back, though he couldn’t get himself to go far. He was practically buzzing with excitement and the closer he was to you the better he felt. You were grinning, shifting from foot to foot and that simple action told Matt that you were anxious about something.

“But I have one more thing to share.” You said, and that worried Matt once more because he could hear the nervousness in your tone. Matt nodded, unable to get himself to form words in response and instead let his mind run wild with all the ideas about what it could be. “Matt, I, uh, well, I’ve had feelings for you for a while, and I think you feel the same, well at least I hope you do, and I was kind of hoping that we could start something now that we’ll be living in the same place.”

Matt felt like passing out. Out of all the dozens of things you could have said, that was not one of them. He watched, wordlessly, as you licked the popsicle out of nerves and the need to busy yourself somehow while he stayed quiet after your confession. That seemed to spur him on, though, because he used his free hand to cup your jaw as his lips landed on yours.

You tasted like grape popsicle and chocolate, and though it was an odd combination he decided it was the best thing he’d ever had. He briefly registered that the popsicles slipped from both your hands as you gripped each other, and he knew that he’d have to pick them up after because you had drilled into him the importance of keeping the Earth clean when you were in eighth grade and went through a sustainability kick.

It was that thought that had him stilling. He couldn’t do this to you, not when you were so good and not when he was in the press every other week for being the very opposite. You deserved better than him, a philanthropist that donated all their time and money to children’s hospitals—the charity he knew you volunteered at, at least three times a year.

You were too good for him.

“Is something wrong?” You questioned him, dropping from your tip-toes back to your flat feet, putting some distance between you and him. It wasn’t enough to defog Matt’s head but he was pretty sure that wouldn’t happen for weeks, not with the way his entire body felt on fire from just your one kiss.

“I can’t do this… I can’t do this to you.” Matt settled, though he hated the way he sounded so unsure of himself and he hated the very fact that he even had to say it. He hated that you felt the same way he did but he couldn’t do a thing about it because he had always put you before himself. But most of all, he hated how your face fell and your eyes started to get glassy.

“Do you not like me?” You questioned and if Matt wasn’t so defeated by the whole situation he would have laughed. He couldn’t remember a time when he didn’t like you, you plagued his thoughts on a daily basis and he had a framed photo of you and him from his first game in Calgary in his apartment that earned him so many chirps from his teammates. But you looked so proud of him, and you were wearing his jersey, so no matter what the boys said he kept it up—the photo was his most prized possession.

“No, that’s not it. That’s not it at all.” He told you, and somehow your face fell even more. Even when you were so clearly upset, the way your brows tugged together in confusion and the slight pout to your lips was devastatingly attractive to Matt.

“Then what is it?” Your question sounded so tired, so weak, that Matt wished he had never followed you out front and never put your friendship in the position it was. But it was too late now, he couldn’t back out now and he had to stick to his guns. He took in a shuddering breath, one hand tucking a strand of your hair behind your ear before he said what he felt he had to.

“I want you to be happy, and you can’t be happy with me. I’m not good for you.”

#Matthew tkachuk #Matthew tkachuk imagine #Matthew tkachuk imagines #Matthew tkachuk x reader #calgary flames #calgary flames imagine #hockey #hockey imagine #nhl #NHL imagine

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hongism · 4 years

Text

mists of celeste ➻ five

➻ pairing: ??? x fem reader ➻ genre: space au, pirate au, space pirate!ateez, angst, eventual smut ➻ Word Count: 3.9K ➻ Rating: pg-15 now/M later ➻ Warnings: language, violence, guns and weaponry, blood, future warnings tba ➻ summary: Sneaking aboard the ship of a renowned space pirate may not have been the best idea, but you’ll have to make do with what fate has handed to you

⇐ previous | next ⇒

mists of celeste act one part five

“Lieutenant. Nice of you to join us,” Yunho greets as he steps around the foot of the bed. You instinctively pull yourself up and sit up straighter. “Captain. You as well.”

“Let’s just get to business, Yunho.” Hongjoong steps out from behind the lieutenant’s back, dark eyes boring into you. “I want to get this over with.”

“O-Of course, Captain,” Yunho stammers. He moves around the bed to stand across from Hongjoong. “She has been making a quick recovery over the past couple of days. I expect a full recovery by the end of the week if not sooner. Vitals are all steady and manageable despite a lowered heart rate; however, she says that she’s not feeling any adverse effects from it.”

“Hm…” Hongjoong hums and glances past Yunho to look you in the eye. “I don’t think you’ve had the pleasure of formally meeting me. Captain Kim Hongjoong of The Horizon. This is my lieutenant, Park Seonghwa. Of course, you may know us by other names seeing as you are military – or former military, was it?” Hongjoong pauses, the silence giving you an opportunity to respond, but you opt not to and instead stare back at the captain with blank eyes. “Scourge of the Black Sea and the Lieutenant of Death. And you, Miss L/N – the Ghost of Eros. Such a distinguished group of criminals all gathered in one place. I should’ve known you were much more than a petty soldier considering that you’ve got a mean right hook. You knocked Seonghwa on his ass so handily I thought he was going to die of shame.”

There is a lilt of humor to Hongjoong’s tone and only a sliver of vehemence and anger. The man’s presence alone is intimidation at its finest yet the mellifluous voice harbors none of that same intimidation. It’s a strange game he’s playing – dancing between cruelty and a carefree attitude – and you can’t figure out what his true intentions are.

“You don’t seem upset by the fact that I put your lieutenant on his ass,” you say, voice coming out surprisingly steady and even compared to how you’re feeling at the moment.

“Me? Upset? Of course not. It’s not my job as a captain to be upset for my crew. If he’s upset about it then that’s his problem. It only becomes mine when he fails to separate those feelings from doing his job properly. So, Lieutenant, are you upset?”

“No, not in the slightest,” Seonghwa answers, eyelids falling shut as he grins at you again. “More embarrassed than anything, getting my ass handed to me by a person who was injured.”

“Not because I’m a girl?” You inquire and dip your chin down a little bit.

“Not even close. It’s not about your gender – never was frankly – solely because you were injured in your obviously dominant arm.” Seonghwa folds his arms over his chest, seeming to puff it out a little as he matches your stare with an equally firey one of his own. Despite admitting weakness, he exudes confidence and power. It hits you at that moment. The strange aura surrounding each member of Hongjoong’s crew, and including the captain himself, makes sense as the puzzle pieces slip together in your mind.

These are criminals of the highest degree, men with extensive records and crimes that would take days to write down, and for some reason, that fact did not sink in sooner. Yes, you’ve had many an encounter with criminals. This should be nothing new for you but these men are far different than the petty criminals you had to deal with when part of the military. Even though you are considered to be one of them, a criminal on the same level as them, someone just as evil and cruel and merciless, you don't feel that way. A surge of fear courses through your body. Any one of these men could end your life in an instant with zero remorse or care.

“What d-do you plan to–to do with me?” You direct the question at Hongjoong although it’s a struggle to drag your eyes off of the pretty lieutenant.

Another hum leaves the captain’s lips, and he looks away from you to stare at the ceiling for a moment. “Part of me wants to drop you out an airlock for attacking my lieutenant, sneaking aboard my ship, and stealing from my cargo hold. However, that is not what I’m going to do. I am merciless, yes, but I could drag your pain so much longer if I really wanted to. So give me a reason not to do that first.”

“Captain…” Seonghwa cuts in, reaching around Hongjoong to block his line of sight. “That isn’t the best idea. There is no point in torturing her if she can be useful.”

“Oh, so knocking you out counts as being useful nowadays?”

“Logic, Hongjoong. Think logically rather than emotionally. There are benefits to keeping her alive and well, especially considering who she is. Ghost of Eros isn’t a name thrown around lightly these days.”

“Yet there are also detriments to keeping her here.”

“If it’s space you’re worried about, we have more than enough of it. Plenty of empty rooms. She can stay in the med bay until she fully recovers then move into one of the empty rooms, no?” Seonghwa glances over to Yunho, who nods along with the words with fervor.

“Absolutely,” he says in a clear tone. “She should be ready to go any day now, and if we move her into one of the empty rooms, I can run post-operation checkups there rather than here.”

“You could also run those checkups from the brig. We have plenty of space down there as well,” Hongjoong argues, pushing Seonghwa’s extended arm out of the way.

“Be smart, Captain.”

“What are you insinuating, Lieutenant?”

“That you are thinking with your heart and not your head!” Seonghwa protests, voice climbing in volume. He steps around Hongjoong to face him head-on. “We have the space, and more than enough of it, so there is no point in putting her in the brig.”

“She is nothing more than a stowaway. That is reason enough, no?”

“No, because you never put Jongho in the brig for being a stowaway.”

“Jongho was useful, and he was barely a stowaway when I knew he was aboard the ship from the second we left that planet.”

“How do you know she can’t be useful as well? Hongjoong, at least give her a chance to be useful and carry her own weight until the next stop. You can dump her there if you don’t want her then.” The phrasing of Seonghwa’s words brings a scowl to your lips.

“Excuse me,” you intervene, climbing to your feet with shaky legs. “I am not an object or a piece of property that can be “dumped”!” Seonghwa shifts to look back at you.

“I’m sorry. I… That wasn’t what I meant to say,” he tries, the remorse evident in his furrowed brows. You return the apology with a half-hearted glare.

“In order to be useful aboard my ship, she needs to be able to shoot a gun,” Hongjoong cuts in and effectively redirects all attention back to him. “According to Yunho, that may not be a possibility anymore.”

“Wh–What?” You ask. Eyes find Yunho’s, and the second you make eye contact he glances away from you rather than facing you. “What the fuck?”

“Oh, you didn’t even tell her?” Hongjoong laughs. “Nerve damage.”

“Nerve damage?” You echo, a tremor rising through your body. Your legs fail to support you any longer, and you fall back to the bed.

“It’s not bad–”

“Not bad? Not bad compared to what?”

“It isn’t debilitating.”

“Why the fuck didn’t you tell me sooner? Seeing as oh yea, it’s my fucking arm!” Yunho winces at the scathing rage in your tone.

“I wasn’t sure about the extent of the damage. Sometimes injuries like yours show nerve recovery over time. I needed to see if that was the case with you. There was – I didn’t want to tell you out of fear of upsetting you without knowing for certain what’s wrong.”

“If it makes you feel any better, you can still pull a trigger,” Hongjoong comments.

“But not aim a pistol as well as I used to,” you finish his train of thought, and he nods in affirmation.

“I don’t know if this will help but... we can correct some things through physical therapy and strengthening. Regain the ease you had with aiming,” Yunho offers, a sympathetic smile playing at his lips.

“But… I thought she didn’t need a fully functioning arm?” Seonghwa inquires, eyes finding Hongjoong.

“Huh?”

“To aim a sniper. You don’t need a fully functioning arm,” he elaborates for you. Your eyes fall into a sharp glare.

“What do you mean by that?”

“It means I know who you are. Ghost of Eros isn’t your only nickname. It only took one search in a military database to see who you are. Y/N L/N, wanted military traitor formerly of the operations assassinations and peace control units. Highly dangerous sniper. Wanted for theft of military property, desertion, capital betrayal, larceny, arson, evasion of arrest, the list goes on. Oh, and putting a bullet in the head of the King of Eros.”

Having someone list off your crimes is not as appealing as it would seem, and your shoulders fall further with each crime listed until Seonghwa mentions the last thing. It has you sitting up straight again, staring him down with such intensity that he actually seems surprised.

“It’s a hefty bounty on your head,” he continues in a much lower tone. “But an even heftier asset.”

Hongjoong releases a huff. “I have to agree with him on that, even though I don’t particularly want to. And yet I can’t help but wonder what drives a person to desertion?”

You refuse to answer the question. Instead, you press your teeth together, clenching your jaw and opting to remain silent in the face of the notorious captain.

“Putting a bullet in the head of a king is a pretty good reason. But that still begs the question: why put the bullet there in the first place?” Your chin dips closer to your chest as Hongjoong drives the metaphorical knife deeper into your chest. “I’ve put many a bullet in people’s heads; however, I’ve never had the luxury of doing it to a king. I have to say it’s quite interesting that you would murder someone like that.”

“It wasn’t murder,” you spit out. Your eyes find Hongjoong’s, and you find a taunting gleam in them. Perhaps this is what he wants – to drive you to a breaking point and see you lash out, and if he continues on like this then you won’t be able to resist the urge.

“Oh? Were you paid to do it then?”

You ball your fists around the sheets beneath you rather than responding. Your only answer is the continued glare you send his way.

“Stop it.” It’s Yunho’s voice that cuts in and bleeds through the mounting tensions between you and Hongjoong. “Stop, Hongjoong. She obviously doesn't want to talk about it. You don’t need to keep pushing it.”

“Stand down, Yunho. Are you the captain?”

“No, but–”

“No. You are not the captain and as such, you cannot tell me what to do. If I am even going to consider making her part of my crew, then I need to know her intentions.”

“I’m not going to kill any of you, if that’s what you mean.”

“How can I be sure of that, Miss L/N? Give me solid proof that you are a gentle and merciful soul. From what I can tell, there is none.”

“I am merely doing the same thing you and your whole crew are: just trying to fucking survive.”

“And what about when survival means killing someone? What would keep you from killing someone in my crew to survive?”

“Forgive me in advance for asking the same question of you. What would keep you from killing me when it comes to survival?” A huff escapes your lips, eyes stabbing daggers into Hongjoong’s form, and you extend the arm with the IV sticking out. “Take the IV out. If he wants me to shoot, then I’ll do just that.”

Both Seonghwa and Yunho whip their heads in your direction, Seonghwa’s eyes nearly bulging from his head. Yunho opens his mouth to retort but you still him by redirecting your glare to him. He moves towards you and slowly untwists the IV, leaving the catheter in place. Before stepping back though, he folds his fingers around your forearm and leans close to your ear.

“Seonghwa’s holster is on his right leg,” he whispers against the shell of your ear. The tall man leans back before Hongjoong or Seonghwa can comment on his odd behavior, and you barely process their expressions because your gaze moves for the gun lingering on Seonghwa’s right leg. You get to your feet with a fake sense of weakness.

In a split second, you dart for Seonghwa’s gun and jab the flat of your left hand against the back of his knee. Your right snatches the pistol from his holster with little trouble as Seonghwa is crumpling to the ground. You spin around while he falls, the barrel of the pistol finding a new home between Hongjoong’s eyes. He doesn’t flinch, nor does he move. His expression remains blank and unfocused. Seonghwa recovers, jumping up at exclaiming at the sight before him. Hongjoong lifts a hand and places it against Seonghwa’s chest.

“Stand down, Hwa.” Seonghwa listens to his captain albeit with great reluctance, and you try to steady your hand.

As silence overtakes the room again, the faint sound of the gun rattling against your quivering hand rises. It isn’t that you are afraid of firing the gun; you have shot a man just like this time and time again. You physically cannot get your arm to still. It’s twitching and shaking against your will, and no matter how much you focus, it doesn’t stop.

“Would you really fire the gun?” Hongjoong asks with his steely cold tone.

“In an instant,” comes your scathing response. “But that’s not what you want from me.”

“Hongjoong…” Seonghwa mutters. Out the corner of your eye, you can see his antsy moments, bouncing his weight from one foot to the other and ready to jump you for pointing a gun at his captain.

“What is it I want then?”

You blink, and Hongjoong is gone from sight. The gun clatters against the ground, pain spreads across your wrist, but it is nothing in comparison to the pain that sears through your whole arm a moment later. Hongjoong appears in your vision, standing beside you with his hand clenched around your bicep, directly over your recovering wound. A sadistic smile creeps across his features. Fingers dig into the bandage and push past the fabric to stab a finger into the hole covered by stitches. A loud cry of pain leaves your body. White blinds your vision, your legs give out under you, and Hongjoong holds you up with his tightening grip on your arm.

“Stop!” Yunho cries out, attempting to step between you and Hongjoong. “Fucking stop, Hongjoong! You’re hurting her!”

“Listen to me,” Hongjoong hisses. He yanks your arm, finger still pushed in your wound. A weak sob falls from your lips next. “Stupid ideas like that are the last thing I want.” His grip leaves your arm, but the pain doesn’t. It lingers, burns, seeps through your limb so much that you can barely think straight. His foot darts out and kicks Seonghwa’s gun in the man’s direction. “You can stay for the time being. However, the second I decide that you aren’t worth my trouble anymore, I will dump you either in space or on whatever planet is nearby. It’s your choice. I suggest you choose wisely next time.” Hongjoong stands up straight, face leaving your line of sight, and you watch his back retreat as he strides out the door, dark brown cloak billowing around him as he moves.

“Oh my god,” Yunho mutters. He is by your side in an instant, one hand finding purchase on your waist, and the other gently holds your arm. “Oh my fucking god. I can’t believe he did that.” He helps you back onto the bed then sits down beside you to pull the now bloodied bandage away from your skin.

“Are you okay?” The question comes from Seonghwa, but you can’t focus on him due to the pain in your system.

“He did a fucking number on my stitches.” Yunho sighs and gets up from the bed. “I’m gonna grab and needle and some thread, I’ll try my best to fix it quick. I will need to sterilize again as well as use some numbing ointment to just help with the pain.”

“It-it's okay,” you murmur, words slurring together. Seonghwa comes closer to the bed. He sits down beside you, careful not to touch you. When you feel the dip of the mattress, you tilt your head in his direction and blink at him in confusion. A smile decorates his lips, one that isn’t cynical or cruel, just one filled with sympathy.

“I’m sorry about your arm.”

“It’s fine. Not your fault anyways.”

“Yes, but I’m sorry for his actions. He’s too rash and thinks too much with his heart.”

“Oh, so he has one?” You joke. Your senses are slowly returning to you, words becoming more clear with each one spoken, and your vision is growing less fuzzy by the second.

“Surprisingly, yes.” Seonghwa chuckles, the sound as pretty as his face. “By the way… I have no hard feelings about the near concussion you gave me.”

“How nice of you.”

“Were I in your position, I would’ve done the same. If not worse. Especially seeing as you were wearing a military uniform. I was planning on killing you then and there before I felt the brand on your arm.”

“That damn brand seems to be a hot topic among you all.”

“You have to understand: it’s not every day we meet someone of your fame and caliber.” Seonghwa’s lips curl as he speaks. “Once Yunho redresses your arm, I can take you to your new quarters. They’re all ready for you.”

“What do you mean? How can they be ready already? Didn’t he just make the decision now?”

“Well, no. Apparently, he decided a while ago on his own accord. Hongjoong isn’t one for spur of the moment decisions. He takes a lot of time to decide on things, so I know for certain that he thought about whether you would stay or go for a long while. Thus, he most definitely decided prior to today.”

Yunho returns to the bed, medical supplies in hand along with another bottle of vodka.

“I, uh, I don’t have the belt this time so you may just want to grin and bear it. I would say bite down on a finger but you might take it clean off.” Delicate fingers find your left wrist, curling around them, and you glance over at Seonghwa.

“Try to focus on me instead of Yunho. It might help take some of the pain away.”

“I highly dou–” You’re cut off by your own scream, cold liquid pouring over your skin. Twisting, you press your fingers against Seonghwa’s hand and he grips you with an equally strong hold as Yunho sterilizes your wound.

“All done, all done,” Yunho announces. The stream of cold ceases but your arm still throbs even as Yunho dabs white ointment across it. He massages it into your skin with gentle touches. Once it goes clear, he pulls back and retrieves his small needle. “You don’t need to watch this bit if you don’t want to. I know some people are afraid of needles.” Despite Yunho’s warning, you continue to keep your eyes trained on the wound and watch as he pinches your skin together. The numbing gel he put across it worked quickly; you don’t feel a thing except for a strange heavy pressure on your skin.

“It’s fascinating work,” Seonghwa mutters, leaning forward to watch Yunho work as well. The healer laughs in response.

“It’s simple stuff actually. Nothing much to it.”

“Simple to you maybe but not anyone else.”

“It’s my job after all.” Yunho shrugs, hands remaining steady on your arm. “And I’m damn good at it, so it ought to be simple to me.”

It takes less than a minute for him to remove the old stitches and attach new ones. He works so fast that you think if you had blinked you would’ve missed the whole thing entirely.

“There, all done! It’s a little irritated from being jabbed at like that, but now that I’ve got the new stitches in, it should be just fine. The numbing ointment will wear off in an hour or so. If it hurts drastically then be sure to come back and tell me. I can get you some medicine if needed.”

“Is she all good to go now then?” Seonghwa asks. He unfolds his hand from yours, and you hadn’t even realized that you were still latched onto it all this time.

“Yep! Almost mint condition. You’re welcome.” Yunho sends a wink your way, cheeks scrunching up as he smiles. “You are free from my care at last. Don’t go messing anything up now, I patched you up perfectly. I don’t want my talent to go to waste, after all. I will check up and see how my stitches are holding up later today though.”

“Aw, have you got your post-patient loneliness already?” Seonghwa asks. Yunho responds with a scoff and swings a loosely clenched fist in his direction, which Seonghwa dodges with ease.

“Do be careful though. You still aren’t as strong as I had hoped you’d be. Walking too much will most likely make you lightheaded and woozy. Seonghwa, if she collapses, I’m blaming you.”

“Aye aye, Captain Yunho.” Seonghwa mocks the healer by bringing his hand up to his head and saluting him. “I’ll keep the princess on her feet.”

“Oh wow. Thanks, pretty boy. I feel oh so safe now.” You push yourself off the bed. Despite the shakiness in your legs, you step forward and trail after Seonghwa as he heads out the med bay. Before you step out of the room completely though, you hesitate in the doorframe. Yunho catches your lingering gaze as though he was expecting it. “Thank you again,” you say. The smile that comes to Yunho’s lips is neither cocky nor patronizing.

“Of course. I’m glad you made a good recovery.” He turns back to the bed where you were just seated but thinks twice about it and looks back at you. “Don’t be a stranger either. My door is always open for whatever you need.” He passes another wink your way, and the cheeky action has you choking on air. His laugh resounds in your ears as you move out of the room, shaky legs carrying you to Seonghwa’s side where he waits for you to catch up.

“Alright, follow me. If you get to feeling weak, just let me know and we can pause or I can help you along.” He pushes a loose strand of black hair from his forehead, and as the strands move you catch sight of a small emblem cut into his undercut. It disappears before you can fully examine it, however, and you have to move your gaze before Seonghwa notices your lingering stare.

“Wait–” you call out, and Seonghwa stops in his tracks. “I… I have a question for you before we go.”

✧✧✧

a/n: hello hello it’s tuesday my dudes ;) another chapter down, and most of the buildup and exposition doNE so things will be picking up in speed from here on out so yAY

taglist: @faeriewoobin @sugarrimajins @atinyinwonderland

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This work is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-NoDerivatives 4.0 International License.

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succulentsunrise · 3 years

Text

Where the Fire Lilies Grow

Content: SFW!

🌧️ + 🌼 = 💖

After this chapter, we are diving into a bit more suspenseful arc of the fic!! 😁

Tag list: @thoughtfullyrainynightmare, @lyranova ❤️

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Chapter 8: Meetings & Missions

"The lesson I have thoroughly learnt, and wish to pass on to others, is to know the enduring happiness that the love of a garden gives."

Gertrude Jekyll

Clouds were slowly creeping up on the bright blue sky, hiding the sun behind their grey veil. Tani narrowed her eyes at them. It looked a little like it might rain eventually, even if the day had seemed sunny until then.

“In any case,” she started, continuing the on-going conversation. “This whole trial-thing has gone crazy.”

Mereoleona kept looking ahead while walking. The wind kept throwing the shorter hairs onto her face.

“I think your friend will be alright,” she commented with a stern look, brushing the hairs aside.

“What do you mean?”

“I can’t tell you to have faith in the system, but the King won’t let innocent people suffer for a devil’s plot.”

Tani sighed resignedly. The week had been a long one. There was news of trials and rumours of punishments, but very little actual information had trickled out. For now, none of the possessed Knights had been trialled. Icree had kept her ears open for anything, but all she could say was that there had been a trial that had been interrupted. As far as she knew, the end result was that one of the squads, Black Bulls, was sent to find more information about the devils. What would happen to everyone else was either up in the air, or not on the table anymore.

“Your friend will be alright,” Mereoleona repeated with a small nod. “The elves are gone and the devil’s dead. The King and the Squad Captains will work it out so that the knights won’t be harmed.”

“Right,” Tani said with slight suspicion in her voice. “Well, let’s leave it at that.”

The two of them had gone out for a walk instead of sitting in the Red Raven this week. The weather had been nice and neither of them had wanted to squander it by sitting in a crowded, sweaty tavern. They had instead flown to a forest Tani had suggested. It resided close to the Azure Deer headquarters, and was filled with beautiful oak trees. The branches of the trees formed a rather closed canopy, filtering only parts of sunlight through. Walking through it had been delightful as long as the sun had brought the occasional warmth. Now that it was disappearing beneath the dark grey clouds, the wind and the shade seemed a little bit too cold for comfort.

“Have you been outside of Clover Kingdom a lot?” Tani asked thoughtfully, trying to steer the topic to something more pleasant.

“I’ve travelled all across the neutral zone,” Mereoleona answered, the sternness staying in her gaze. “Not much to the other nations, though.”

“I assume you’ve been all over Clover too?”

“Not as much as you, most likely. Don’t you go all around on your missions?”

“Well, yes,” Tani said hesitantly, furrowing her eyebrows in confusion. “Haven’t you?”

Mereoleona turned the stern gaze to Tani, the sharp blue eyes considering her for a moment. Then, the gaze softened and Mereoleona grinned.

“You think I joined the squad when I got my grimoire, don’t you?”

Tani looked bewildered, her gaze travelling to the ground and back to Mereoleona in search of answers.

“Did you not?”

“No. The moment I had my grimoire, I headed to the neutral zone.”

“You headed to the neutral zone--?” Tani repeated, half-believing it and half not.

“I’ve never been one to stand in guard and catch petty criminals,” Mereoleona answered. “Most of the day-to-day life of a knight isn’t so glamorous. It’s to walk around streets, make sure nothing gets stolen or no one gets hurt, or if you are lucky, catch some bigger criminals.

“It was never my scene. I want to fight, and I want to fight strong opponents. I want to grow this power that I have. I would have made a terrible knight, and still would.”

Tani’s frown eased up a little, but not completely.

“How come they made you a Captain when you returned, then?” she inquired.

“The Crimson Lion Kings have always been led by a Vermillion. Before I left, everyone expected me to join and eventually become the Captain. I didn’t, so Fuegoleon took the role instead. He cares more about values and honour and things like that in any case - it makes him a better Captain.

“When I came back to check on him, my family saw it natural that I take his place. Leopold is too young to take the reins just yet. It wasn’t hard for me to assume the Captain’s role. The kingdom was in danger and his proud knights were crying over him. They needed a strong leader. Clover Kingdom needed someone to push it to more than just defend itself.”

“What about the vice-captain?”

“Randall?” Mereoleona considered for a moment. “Randall is a good, strong man. He is like my brother - calm, logical. The knights needed more than that. They needed someone who could rouse them from their stupor. They needed someone inspiring. Not to say that he didn’t do his part. He gave me valuable insight into the squad, and well - others helped me with paperwork.”

“What’s the point of even having a vice-captain then?”

“I am certain that Randall is invaluable for my brother. When he is away for shorter tasks, the vice-captain does his duty. This was a different situation - you can see that, can’t you?”

“...”

“I was coming to the Capital anyway, to see with my own eyes that--that it was true. I thought - might as well take these runts that the idiot has collected and take care of them.”

Tani couldn’t help the small, gentle smile that rose to her lips. While the absurd notion of a non-Magic Knight being able to become a Captain due to their family and station irked her greatly, hearing the slight hesitation and hidden grief - or perhaps regret? - made her more soft in her approach.

“What’s with that look?” Mereoleona challenged, seemingly having noticed it.

“Nothing,” Tani said with an innocent look, smiling a little wider.

Mereoleona scoffed, but said no more. The look in her eyes was almost exhausted, in a secret way, hidden under the blaze and boisterousness. Was that a tear on her cheek? Tani frowned in surprise. Then, she felt a drop on her own head. Her gaze travelled from Mereoleona to the canopy above, where between the branches the drooping clouds had blocked out the blue entirely. Not a tear. A dark grey mass had conquered the sunny day, now releasing small droplets of rain with increasing speed.

“It’s starting to rain,” Tani stated the obvious, rising her hand to catch the droplets.

Mereoleona gave the skies a look that spoke of her displeasure with it.

“The branches won’t be enough to protect us from it,” she commented as the rain started falling as rapidly as it had appeared.

“Then run!” Tani shouted with a wide grin, energized by the sudden rain.

She was very glad her plants were inside the glass garden and not outside. She grabbed Mereoleona’s hand, pulling her with, and began running towards the headquarters. It was their only chance of staying somewhat dry, not that the rain cared. No matter how much they tried to outrun it, at some point letting go of each other’s hands and competing with each other, they couldn’t win against water. Tani had some difficulty keeping up with Mereoleona. She was amazing even at sports, though Tani shouldn’t have expected anything else. She was barely keeping up at the point Mereoleona reached the gates of the headquarters, pushing them open and turning to wait for Tani. There was a slightly wild gaze in her eyes - a wild joy, perhaps. Tani laughed breathlessly, her lungs burning and her last steps faltering. It was exhilarating to run so fast.

“No time for stopping yet,” Mereoleona screamed over the aggressive downpour, a wide grin playing on her lips as well.

Tani uttered an incoherent, breathy answer, drowned by the rain and her own laughter. She began to jog towards the doors. She was already soaked, afterall - it couldn’t get much worse. The knights at the gates had paid them little heed, perhaps because they recognized her cloak with the Azure Deer insignia or because they were surprised by a royal paying a visit. The knights at the door, however, stood to full attention as soon as they noticed the very soaked Mereoleona Vermillion. Her normally so curly and puffy hair had been flattened down by the weight of the water gathered in it. Her open, dark red cloak had not protected much of her clothes - just like Tani’s small, light blue cloak had only protected her upper body. Wringing the extra water quickly out of their clothes at the door, the two escaped inside the headquarters.

“Towels, here,” Tani managed to say, pulling Mereoleona to a different direction. “We need to dry up.”

Mereoleona followed her without another word. Tani led her to her own simple room. It had a comfortable bed hugged by three walls, complete with fluffy pillows, hanging plants and a windowsill filled with smaller plants. Above the bed were simple rows of a bookshelf, filled with books, knick knacks and some more plants. Her desk was perhaps the least cluttered, serving as an open area with some papers, her inks, quills and candles. Tani waved Mereoleona towards the chair by the desk, as she herself opened the big closet on the opposite wall. In an instant, she found two large towels - green and grey ones - for them to dry themselves with. Additionally, she placed a set of warm clothes next to Mereoleona. Luckily the two of them didn’t have a large size difference.

“Change into something dry,” Tani requested, pointing at the clothes.

Mereoleona nodded, and Tani turned away to find something for herself. She could hear the sounds of the other changing behind her, and so stayed respectfully turned even after she had found what she was looking for. It was only after the shuffling had ended that she turned to look. The dark, high-waisted trousers and oversized shirt looked rather good on Mereoleona, though not very royal. Tani had chosen herself a sleeveless, dark shirt and harem pants. She changed to them quickly while Mereoleona went to put her clothes to dry elsewhere. By the time that she returned, Tani had sat back down on the bed in her dry clothes, and had started brushing her barely dried, extremely curly hair.

“I’ll get us something warm to drink in a bit,” Tani promised before the other could say anything.

Content, Mereoleona nodded silently once more and sat down.

“Rum, I hope,” she remarked with a wide smile.

“I’ll see if there is any.”

“Anything strong goes.”

Tani laughed off her comment and got up.

“Sit tight, your highness,” she commanded with a mock bow, and left the room.

Tani’s walk to the kitchen area was a mix of joy and exhaustion. Her mind kept wandering to the fluffy, orange hair and the clothes she had lent. Tani’s absentminded smile was glued to her face, regardless of her other squadmates. There was something delightful in this kind of a meet-up. She had to search rather extensively before she could find rum, but luck was on her side. Soon enough the sweet and slightly spicy scent of rum was following her into her room, trailing behind two glasses.

“Here we go,” Tani announced, giving a glass to Mereoleona without further ceremony.

Mereoleona made a pleased smack of her lips.

“You sure know how to treat a girl,” she commented with a twinkle in her eye.

Tani laughed happily. She navigated to sit back on the bed.

“You’ve got a lot of plants,” Mereoleona remarked, her gaze moving around the room.

“There’s more.”

“I know you said you were into botany, but I didn’t expect you to live in a jungle.”

“It’s not a jungle - yet. Look at them, aren’t they beautiful? I can show you the ones in the outer garden after we’ve finished our drinks.”

“I’d rather not go outside again--”

“No, no, it’s not outside. It’s made of glass. Plants get sunlight, you can provide them some shade if you want, it’s great.”

“I see.”

“Here, I’ll introduce you to some of them. The giant plant over there is a big boy monster. That’s almost its name. It’s a Monstera,” Tani began to explain eagerly, while pointing to a corner of her room.

Mereoleona’s gaze followed it to a rather tall plant, probably well over her height, with enormous leaves. They were slightly unusual due to their shape: the leaves were fenestrated, making them look like someone had played with scissors around them.

“Aha,” she said politely, looking at the verdant monstrosity.

“It can’t quite take direct sunlight, so it’s a bit away from the window.”

“I--I see.”

“These are my small trees - bonsais,” Tani continued enthusiastically, moving closer to the windowsill. There were three almost miniature-like trees in square-shaped, low pots.

“This is a juniper, it likes to escape its pot a little. And here - ah - this one’s a ginseng - a little more bulbous, isn’t it? It’s adorable. The last one is a willow, my latest experiment. Quite successful, though a bit more stubborn than the others have been.”

The small bonsai trees looked quite like their larger variants, elegant and beautiful. Mereoleona nodded once more politely, though her gaze didn’t seem to be quite fixed on the plants. Tani smiled widely.

“Here then,” she continued, turning to the shelves. “Say hello to my beautiful begonia - it’s called ‘angelwing’.”

Tani tenderly touched the long, slim leaves of the plant. They were dotted with silvery spots with a red back. The leaves were almost the size of her hands.

“You seem to like plants with big leaves,” Mereoleona commented with raised eyebrows.

“Oh, I like all kinds of plants. Big leaves, small leaves, trees - they all have their own challenges and beauty,” Tani answered happily, her gaze returning to Mereoleona.

She was perhaps at the very back of her mind aware that plants weren’t in Mereoleona’s sphere of interest. It was, however, a rather subconscious thought that didn’t reach her consciousness yet. So, she kept talking about her plants and her worries with growing them, as well as new plants that she was interested in getting. Mereoleona took little part in the conversation, humming and hawing at certain places, and occasionally asking some supplementing questions. Tani wasn’t quite sure if she was really interested or if she was being polite, but to be perfectly honest - she didn’t care. She was too excited to talk about plants to someone who listened. Eventually their glasses were emptied, the tour of the greenhouse was had, and it was time for Mereoleona to leave. She changed back to her own clothes, waved her goodbyes and left a slightly giddy, slightly embarrassed Tani to the headquarters. As soon as she had gone, Tani let out a small satisfied sigh, jumping just a little on her feet out of excitement.

“Hey,” a devilish voice called, and Tani turned to see Icree leaning against the doorframe.

The red-haired knight was wearing the most shit-eating grin she could possibly have, eyebrows wiggling suggestively.

“Did you really make the lioness of the Crimson Lion Kings listen to you ramble about plants for hours?”

“Agh--come on, Icree,” Tani sighed, flustered.

It was going to be a long night if she had to explain this all to Icree. Yet Icree was always good at making people talk…

“Here I just came to tell you that we have a new mission, but there’s something much more important to talk about now,” Icree teased happily, entering Tani’s room without invitation. “I see you and Lady Vermillion are getting closer.”

“We simply met in the forest!”

“You want me to believe it was a coincidence?”

“Perhaps it was arranged.”

“And perhaps it ended with her in your room, talking about plants in your clothes?”

“I don’t control the weather, Icree!” Tani laughed.

“Yes, well, I’m not so sure I believe you now,” Icree commented, faking a suspicious look cheerfully.

“Sure, sure. What’s the mission?”

“There’s a new dungeon that’s appeared inside the Kingdom. The report said it had a little unusual entrance. Apparently looks more like the mouth of a cave than a built structure, but all the signs indicate that it is a dungeon.”

“Sounds interesting. Me, you and Luka?” Tani asked for confirmation.

Icree nodded.

“Yeap, it’ll be us three. Kliodna is paired with Fragil and Eric to patrol some farmlands in the south.”

“Sounds much more boring than what we’re going to be up to.”

“Dungeons are no joke. I don’t think it would be a good idea to have Kliodna enter something so dangerous right now.”

“How dangerous can a trapped, ancient, possibly tomb of some kind be?” Tani joked, crossing her legs and leaning backwards.

“Exactly. Let’s hope we find something important or interesting from there, so it won’t be for nothing,” Icree answered, taking a bit more serious tone. “I wish they didn’t just appear out of nowhere like that. There has to be a pattern to it.”

“Nature is wild like that, you know.”

“Yes, but it makes no sense. These are ancient dungeons built by mages to safeguard their treasures instead of sharing them. Yet they pop up randomly, so that people can access them, but only if they can go past all the traps and such. Are they hidden by magic that wanes with time? Were the previous generations of mages sadistic? Did they think those items were dangerous, and if they did, why are we going after them?”

“So that other nations--”

“No, Tani,” Icree sighed, throwing her hands in the air in a frustrated manner. “We’re not any better than other nations, not necessarily.”

“You used to be more at peace with this before.”

“Your rebelliousness has rubbed off on me, probably.”

Tani laughed shortly, shaking her head. Icree seemed troubled, but surely she trusted the Magic Knights.

“Perhaps we put them into better use than other nations, but we have no guarantee of that,” Icree commented after a brief pause. “It’s not like we maintain relations with them a lot. The only one we’ve had contact with has been the Heart Kingdom.”

“It’s not really a good option to let others take them either, Icree.”

“Some tombs shouldn’t be opened.”

“Did something happen?”

“No,” Icree sighed defeatedly, glancing away. “I’m just worried about the mission, with your shoulder not being fully healed and it being an unusual one.”

“It’s going to be fine,” Tani promised, giving her a soothing smile.

Icree replied to it with her own, though much more worried one. They talked a little more still together, finding the other members of their small group and having some dinner. It would be an early wake-up for them, since the dungeon was quite a while away from their base. Even if they could get through the dungeon quickly, it was likely they’d not make it back during the same day. It was better to pack food for one camping night.

The next day, the three of them - Tani, Luka and Icree - flew to the position of the dungeon, as it had been described to them. It was meant to lie a little further away from a village, in normal, peaceful forest. As Icree had said before, its entrance was supposed to look more like a cavern. The villagers had only noticed it due to the escaping wildlife, and some patrolling knights had recognized it as a dungeon due to the mana it emitted. The first problem presented itself immediately as they were guided into a thick, overgrown forest. That was not how the forest was supposed to be.

“Do you think it was caused by the dungeon?” Icree asked incredulously.

“It could be the magical item,” Luka suggested quietly, looking at the wild bushes and flowers growing in heaps.

“Whatever it is, it is not natural,” Tani concluded.

She was hunched near the plants, inspecting them. Next to her were orange blooms of a flower not native to these parts.

“Wherever the entrance is, we might want to deal with it before this spreads further,” she said quietly. “These plants growing here are all poisonous to the wildlife and possibly to us.”

“Let’s find that entrance then,” Icree sighed.

The three of them looked at the overgrown forest around them. It would be hard to decide where to start the search.

#black clover oc #black clover fanfiction #black clover #Where the Fire Lilies Grow

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leejihoonownsmyheart · 4 years

Text

The Last of the Real Ones

Part of the Road Trip Shuffle

Previous Skip

Summary:

When a new super hero called Scoups starts appearing around the city, you aren’t really interested. Until you realize just how bad he is at keeping a secret identity (despite him thinking he was pretty sly).

“I know this whole damn city thinks it needs you But not as much as I do”

You realized that Choi Seungcheol was the superhero Scoups, when you first saw the guy in action. When Scoups first started to pop up in the news you didn’t really pay much attention to it. A masked vigilante stopping bank robberies and petty thievery just didn’t really pique your interest.

You were too busy after all, with pretty much everything else going on in your life to ponder the identity of a man that was probably just some self-centered idiot who wanted to play hero for a few days. You were sure that in no time the news of him would fade away and things would return to normal.

At least... That is what you thought until you were at a coffee shop on your way to work and you got grabbed and held at gun point.

There wasn’t really much going through your mind at that point, to your surprise.

You had always imagined that you would have a strew of thoughts going through your mind, that pure adrenaline would take over, and in an attempt to try and better the situation you would end up with a bullet in your head.

Instead, you felt your heart rate steady to something a bit more lax then it had actually been not long before. You thought of a few small things you regretted. Coworkers you wished that you had been brave enough to talk to more. People you had wished you had called before this had happened. Your crush, who you suddenly really wanted to be able to confess to despite all of your anxieties towards it before.

And lastly, how to get out of this situation without anyone getting hurt.

Your eyes had scanned the restaurant calmly- everyone was on the floor, and you could tell that none of them were going to be helping you. No, they were all too scared, some of them even trying to sneak their phones out- not to call 911 but to resume the phone calls they had been having before this whole inconvenient robbery.

You looked over at the cashier, a scared, shaken 16-year-old, who clearly hadn’t even played a violent video game a day in their life, much less been held at gun point. You felt bad for them. They were just trying to make minimum wage after all at a busy coffee shop with rude customers. The last thing that they needed in their lives was for someone to rob them.

You sighed, and cleared your throat, gaining the robbers attention. He tightened his grip on you, the cold metal of his gun digging into your temple.

“Is there something you would like to say princess?”

You rolled your eyes at the clear scare tactic. You presumed that normally such a thing would work on you. This man was huge. Easily twice your size. He could probably break you in half, with his pinky finger, and was surely leaving bruises from where he was holding you on your shoulders. And yet, even so you weren’t really frightened.

If you were going to die, you supposed that was okay- in that moment at least- because it just meant that everyone else here might live. And you desperately needed that to happen.

“Yeah, you’re not going to get anything out of the kid,” you stated, your voice sounding just as steady as you felt. You felt the robber shift his weight, turning his attention to the glass windows. You could hear sirens in the distance, and you wondered if that was what had suddenly gotten his attention.

The police would surely be here soon.

“What?” He mumbled.

“The kid is shaking, probably doesn’t even know the security code to the safe where they keep the money on a good day, much less when he is scared out of his mind,” you clarified. “Who you need, is the manager. Or someone who used to work here.”

The robber didn’t seem to understand what you were getting at, so you let out a loud sound of impatience.

“I used to work here,” you explained to him. “If you let me, I’ll open the safe for you.”

It honestly wasn’t a good move for you to make.

Lying to someone with a gun was never a good idea. Especially not when you weren’t sure if the gun was loaded or not. You made a mental note to yourself not to do something stupid like this again even as you were on your knees in front of the small metal safe that held the money.

All you had to do was come up with a four-digit number.

A four-digit number that you did not know but a four-digit number none the less and everything could go smoothly.

Luckily for you, before you found out what would happen if you didn’t figure out the four digit number, there was a loud shout, a mad scrambling of people across the coffee shop floor and a crash as someone fell through the large glass windows of the store.

You heard the robber shout a string of curses, but you didn’t even mind the way that the man pulled you closer as a blur of red and white tumbled over the broken glass, to a fetal position on the ground.

Your eyebrows strewn together tightly in confusion when the person let out a pained groan and then jumped to their feet, placing their hands on their hips as if they hadn’t been clearly hurt just a moment before.

“Scoups is here to save the day!” He announced loudly. His eyes scanned the building, and he pointed at the person who was holding you hostage in a way that you honestly didn’t see to be very threatening. “And if you don’t let go of-”

His eyes drifted over to you and he choked.

Yes he physically choked on air, completely lost his composure, cleared his throat and then spoke again, this time his voice notably an octave deeper: “This completely random lady who I do not know in the slightest. Then I will have to come over there and hurt you.”

You weren’t sure if it was the way he changed his voice, the fact that he clearly hadn’t quite mastered his costume- or really anything about his super hero persona yet, or if maybe it was the more then obvious indication that the guy knew you. No matter- in the end, the minute that you saw the man you knew that it was Seungcheol.

There was no way it wasn’t Seungcheol. You knew red and white were his favorite colors, and that he always had the best intentions but didn’t always think things through all the way. You knew what he looked like- flimsy cotton mask over his eyes be damned, and to top it off, he was the dumb guy in your office that you had a crush on.

If you hadn’t recognized Seungcheol standing ten feet away from you in a costume it would have been more surprising, than for you to not have recognized him.

But the thing was how did you even say something like that to someone?

Despite the rocky start to the whole rescue mission, Seungcheol managed to grab the criminal, and get the gun away from him with no trouble at all.

As it turned out, Seungcheol had superpowers. You weren’t sure what all of his superpowers were but it seemed to you that he had more than one, because the super speed that he displayed while saving your life surely wasn’t enough to have also wrenched the gun out of the man’s hands and get you away from him without getting shot.

“Wait.”

Seungcheol had been quick to tie up the man who not even a second before had you in his arms, honestly believing your life was moments away, and was about to- you thought maybe quite literally take off- when someone had called after the man.

It was a younger girl, staring up at Seungcheol in a way that you knew no one had looked at him before. To these people he really was a hero- which you supposed was fair. He had just saved all of your lives.

“Scoups, how can we ever thank you enough?”

The man let out a hearty laugh and reached forward, placing a hand on the girls' head. Her face turned the color of his cape at that, an action you wanted to make fun of but you had had similar reactions to him for less, so you supposed you would let it slide this time.

“You already did.”

And just like that Seungcheol was gone.

That day at the office, he didn’t seem any different than he had always been.

You tried to figure out if Seungcheol had been acting strangely recently but you couldn’t really place any certain day when the switch had happened, but your suspicions that he was in fact the masked man who had saved you that day were only confirmed by your work day at the office.

Not only could he not stop looking at you, a clear look of concern in his eyes, but he had spent the whole morning trying to get someone anyone to turn on the news (likely so that he could pretend to hear about the robbery and provoke you into saying something about it), and when he couldn’t get you to talk about it outright he had pretended to notice a bruise on your neck that you knew he couldn’t have possibly seen unless he was looking for it.

“Hey... Is that a bruise? Are you okay? Did something happen to you today? Because if something did you should tell everyone you know not keep it to yourself.”

You tried not to laugh at his obvious attempts, and instead shyly admitted that yes actually, something had happened to you. You told him about the man that had grabbed you, and that you had been scared.

“But then this masked man fell through the window and ended up saving the day.”

“Oh? Who? He sounds heroic!”

“Uh, I wouldn’t call him heroic necessarily, he seemed a bit unprepared and his name was a little weird... Scoups or something?”

“Oh! Scoups! That really strikes fear into my heart!”

“Ah, I don’t really think so, but agree to disagree right?”

You hadn’t really meant to start teasing him you meant to let it go on for a week maybe and then tell him that you knew his secret. After all, it was a big burden for Seungcheol to carry on his own. You knew that from every single comic book you read and superhero movie you had ever watched. But it was just so easy to tease him. Not to mention that your power of suggestion meant a lot changing in Scoups secret identity.

When you mentioned that you thought Scoups should focus less on catch phrases and more on saving people then his phrases became a lot more more natural and like himself. You also noticed that when you suggested that the hero focus more on strategy to minimize the harm that came to the people he was saving, he started being able to save a lot more people.

And besides, knowing Seungcheol’s secret made you a lot less nervous around him in the office. You weren’t freaked out when he walked past your cubicle and you didn’t shake if he tried to strike up a conversation with you during your breaks.

And during lunch periods he actually sought you ought to eat with you. Sure it was just so that he could talk to you about the most recent Scoups news, but it was attention none the less and you really enjoyed talking to him.

Not only that, but in no time Seungcheol started to approach you even when he was masked as the Scoups himself. Sure, it probably didn’t help that you ended up being in a numerous amount of locations tied to people he was fighting.

Over the next few months, you found yourself in so many robberies, and hostage situations that you were honestly starting to feel like the target. In each one, you found yourself doing the stupid sort of heroic thing you were chastising Scoups for, only without the superpowers on your end, to the point that Scoups approached you himself.

One night after work, you suddenly realized that you weren’t alone. You turned around, fingers clutching your phone hidden deep in your jacket pocket- only for you to relax when you saw who it was.

“Scoups,” you breathed, the name leaving your mouth along with a sigh of relief. “To what do I owe the honor?”

He had given you a completely unamused look back and pointed at your hand in your pocket.

“What were you going to do? Attack me?” He asked. You rolled your eyes and raised your phone out of your pocket.

“Us normal people tend to just call the police,” you replied pointedly. He made a face at that, for what reason you weren’t sure of at first.

“You should really be more careful. The amount at which I end up saving you- out of everybody else in this city-” He interrupted himself to click his tongue and shake his head. “And you’re always being held at gun point. What is that?”

You scoffed and put a hand on your hips.

“Are you blaming me, for always being used as a captive?” You asked him bluntly. He raised his eyes back to you and put his hands up in the air towards you.

“No, no, I’m just... I’m worried about you,” he mumbled. He was starting to grow closer to you. You weren’t opposed to the action. In fact, the closer he was to you the safer you truly felt. It was nice to have him there beside you.

“Just like you are worried about the whole city huh?” You questioned him softly. He stopped, his body mere centimeters from yours. He rose his hand up, clearly wanting to touch your cheek, but hesitated just before his fingers brushed your skin. You rolled your eyes at the tepidness and took his hand in yours, placing it against you before he could say anything in protest.

The action made him smile and sent a jolt down your spine.

You hadn’t realized how long it had been since anyone had touched you so intimately until he was touching you right there and then.

“I would let this whole city burn just to save your life,” Seungcheol whispered back.

When you had read the comic books, and stupid Mary Jane had kissed Spiderman, but also sort of liked Peter Parker and never made the connection between the two, you had always thought it was odd. Not odd in Mary Jane’s corner (although you thought she was a little dimwitted to not make the connection sooner. But odd in Peter Parker’s sense.

After all, what could possibly be going through his mind when he kissed Mary Jane with his mask on, thinking that she was the most important person in his life, but still knowing that she didn’t know the most important detail about him.

You of course, were no Mary Jane. You knew Seungcheol was Scoups. Hadn’t truly been fooled by his mask for a second (even though his costume had gotten immensely better). You had never thought that Seungcheol would kiss you. Not when he was in a mask, and not when he was just a coworker at your office.

So, when Seungcheol closed the space between the two of you, and his lips pressed against yours- you were so surprised you couldn’t protest against it. You couldn’t stop him and tell him that you knew, in fact you couldn’t even think.

All you could do was wrap your arms around his body, trying to feel his warmth spread throughout your whole body, and pressed yourself tighter against him. After all, you were in love with him. You had been for some time.

A kiss from him truly was a dream come true, and no sensical bone in your body could convince you that what you were doing needed to be stopped just so that you could rationalize that he had no reason to feel insecure about his secret identity or all the lies he thought he was so cleverly telling.

No instead you melted against him, just desperate to have him close to your body and to never let this moment slip away from you.

And yet, just like most things, the clock’s hand never stopped cruelly ticking away, and after what could only be described as too short of a time, you felt Seungcheol slipping away from you.

“You have no clue how long I have wanted to do that,” he whispered. “But I have to leave you now.”

You were dazed. Honestly feeling like you couldn’t really keep your bearings if you wanted to. You blindly reached towards Seungcheol as he pulled away.

“Wait, I-”

“Don’t worry. I’ll keep you safe.”

And before you could tell Seungcheol that you knew who he was, Seungcheol disappeared into the night, and you were left alone.

After that moment, it was sort of hard to bring the topic up. Every time that Seungcheol was close to you, you couldn’t manage to tell him in words what you wanted to say. Whenever you could get it into a conversation someone always showed up to ruin your plans.

And whenever it was just you and Scoups... It was like he was the part of him that he was afraid to be at work. He was confident and concerned for you and would stand so close that you couldn’t think straight no matter how badly you wanted to.

One thing you never accounted for however was your growing close relationship with Scoups getting you into any danger. Sure, letting yourself get seen talking to Scoups one on one at multiple scenes of crime and even being caught in videos making quips with the hero like old friends should have made you a bit more careful but it just wasn’t something you had anticipated.

You had never imagined that you would end up kidnapped.

Sure, after all of the superhero storylines that you had read; you would think that you would have seen it coming. Whenever someone got close to the superhero of the story- whether they knew the superhero’s identity or not- they always ended up kidnapped.

It was a classic plot line, the one that always made the hero return to action even if they had been reluctant to do so before. You had never been the biggest fan of the plot line honestly. You found it to be a tad bit bland and drawn out- even when it was self-aware. But you supposed that you couldn’t really control being caught in such a plot line anyways.

You remembered a painful sting to the back of your head, darkness overcoming your vision and then waking up in a dark room.

You honestly hadn’t even realized that Scoups had a nemesis or even someone out to get him, but you really should have anticipated it coming. It was like Seungcheol kissing you had made you forget everything about any superhero tale that you had ever known.

Whenever a superhero showed up, a supervillain always followed. There were no exceptions to such a rule.

Your eyes narrowed at the man before you as you pulled at your wrists lightly. The ropes he had used to tie you were tight against you. You wouldn’t be able to ease yourself out of it easily, no matter how badly you wanted to.

So instead, you kept your attention on this supervillain, raising an eyebrow at him as he paced the abandoned room that you two were in.

“So...” You trailed off, and the man turned to you. He had dark eyes, and a particular way of looking at you that you just knew you had seen many times before. “Aren’t you going to tell me your backstory or whatever?”

The man looked at you, his glare only intensifying at your words.

“You think I would waste my backstory on you?” He asked you pointedly. Honestly the comment stung, but once again his words kept pulling at that little part in your brain that said that you knew him outside of this. You thought maybe if you kept him talking you would be able to pinpoint exactly where from.

“I mean who else are you going to tell?” You asked. You used your head to gesture to the empty room around you. The man rolled his eyes.

“Scoups will come,” he murmured back. “I’ll tell him when he arrives.”

You scoffed.

“Why would Scoups come? This is so obviously a trap- and would you even really kill me?”

“He’ll come, and if you keep talking then yes,” he snapped back roughly. “You’re the most precious person on the planet to Scoups, I know he will come.”

You thought that was a tiny bit of an exaggeration, but luckily his cocky attitude, finally slide something into place in your mind, and you realized with a start exactly where you knew he from.

“Oh my god, Juyan? From accounting?” You blurted out. Juyan, turned to you, his eyes growing wide in surprise.

“What- How did you-?”

“It is you!” You exclaimed. “What the hell Juyan, I thought you died in some freak accident?”

“I’m wearing a full-face mask!” Juyan protested instead of answering your question. You figured that was fair. After all it was no secret to anyone that Juyan had been missing for months. He had been chosen with a select few- Seungcheol actually. To participate in an experiment in a lab. The experiment had been pretty top secret, and something had gone wrong....

You wanted to hit yourself, realizing suddenly that you were the biggest idiot on the planet.

“Of course, the accident.”

Suddenly everything was clicking in your mind. The mod podge of every superhero story you had ever read all molding into one story that would make sense for your situation.

Juyan- after overcoming his initial shock only confirmed it a moment later.

When Juyan and Seugncheol were selected to do the experiment and the experiment went wrong they were both exposed to deadly radiations that should have killed them. It killed the others in the project, and also released a sudden mass of energy in the center of the room that started to suck up the people in the experiment. Juyan and Seungcheol agreed to work together to try to save the scientists and close the hole, being told that if they got a certain device into the mass, they would be able to prevent the end of the world.

A slip was all it took for Juyan to fall into the mass, leaving everyone to believe him dead.

“But I am alive,” Juyan snapped. “And the first thing I see upon returning is that Seungcheol is masquerading around like some sort of hero. After letting me die.”

He let out a laugh, that was a little psychotic- honestly not anything you wouldn’t expect from Juyan. He had always been one step away from the looney bin- but was still a little disturbing to hear even so.

Contrastingly, it was a little amusing the way that Juyan waited for Scoups to show. His growing impatience only building on the anger issues that he had been sent to Human Resources for many times before for.

You honestly hadn’t expected Scoups to come for quite some time but after only a few hours (your ropes still tight but getting much looser), suddenly the door came bursting in, and Seungcheol’s wide frantic eyes fell on you. He called out your name.

“Don’t worry! I’m here to save you.”

You practically yawned as he began towards you. It was like none of them had ever seen a superhero movie before in their lives.

“Don’t do it,” you murmured, your tone of voice flat. “It’s a trap.”

Just as you spoke, Juyan reappeared and a net dropped down from the ceiling over Seungcheol. He hissed as the net touched him, dropping to the ground in more pain then you had ever seen him in before.

“What-”

“That net is made out of Titanium Alloy,” Juyan said sinisterly. You could practically hear the smile on his lips. “Your one weakness Scoups.”

His voice echoed throughout the room, and it seemed to genuinely impress Seungcheol as he flipped over in the net to peer up at Juyan.

“Pledis,” he mumbled. “Where did you come from? What do you want to achieve?”

And luckily this was where you could help speed up things. Honestly when it got to this part of the plot, you tended to easily get bored while reading your graphic novels. While in some stories the realization of who the villain was had been crafted in detail and been a genuine surprise to you, like in Marvel’s Runaways- other stories just felt repetitive and obvious. You skimmed through those most of the time. And you were a bit glad you could press fast forward on this one, because this room was a bit cold and you didn’t have a jacket.

“It’s Juyan- from accounting.”

Juyan let out a frustrated groan at your comment, just as Seungcheol let out a dramatic gasp.

“Juyan.”

“It’s Pledis,” he snapped back. “Come on, I call you Scoups, so call me Pledis.”

“Juyan...” Seungcheol murmured, completely ignoring what Juyan had said just a moment ago “I... I thought you were dead.”

It was odd, to see Seungcheol growing so clearly haunted. When you had imagined what he had to hide you had thought it was simply a fear of people finding out who he was. You had been naïve to think that he was holding onto an even larger burden that you couldn’t even begin to fathom.

You could hardly even pay attention as Juyan and Seungcheol continued their discussion, going through the usual wave of conversation before it finally devolving into the fight that all three of you had known it would come down to.

You knew that Seungcheol didn’t want to hurt Juyan. And you knew that Juyan’s period of isolation was a large part of the reason he was currently being so resentful. But you also knew that even with a trained therapist in the room there would be no preventing this battle. And when Juyan went flying out the window, plummeting to what you could only imagine would be his death, you couldn’t say you were really surprised.

Just glad that you had managed to get yourself free of those ropes, and desperate to get to Seungcheol’s side.

“Are you okay?” You exclaimed climbing over the metal rail as you rushed over to Seungcheol. He froze at the statement, his whole body becoming tense at that. At first you were confused as to why, and then you realized that it was because he still didn’t realize that you knew his secret identity. You rolled your eyes.

“Seungcheol, I know it’s you.”

“Se-Seungcheol?” Seungcheol asked, his eyebrows raising. “Who is that?”

You sighed and wandered over to Seungcheol, lightly placing your hand on his shoulder. You peeked around his body and try to catch his gaze, but he just turned his head even further from you. You sighed.

“Come on, what are you doing? Don’t you know what part of the story we are at?” You asked him. That seemed to peek his attention a bit. He glanced at you, his eyebrows raising ever so slightly so that you could finally see his face.

He had bruises scattered across it, and a number of cuts on his cheeks that made your brows furrow in concern. You raised your hand gently to his cheek and he looked down so that he couldn’t see your expression as you did so.

“Part of the story...?” He questioned softly. You nodded and smiled.

“Well, it’s the part where the person who has been in love with the hero for so long finally gets to see his face. She’s of course worried. She knows that he is in pain but won’t say anything, but she doesn’t mind as long as she gets to see him.”

You sighed and lowered your hand back down to his shoulder, ducking your head so that you could catch his gaze. You gave him an easy smile.

“Then she tells the hero that she’s known all along who he was,” you continued. The statement made Seungcheol sigh softly, a pout crossing his lips.

“How long have you known?” He asked you his voice softer than you were used to it being when he was dressed like this.

“Since the coffee shop robbery,” you replied. Seungcheol’s mouth dropped open.

“How?” He blurted. You laughed.

“It wasn’t hard to figure out Cheol. We’ve worked together for over a year now, and you weren’t very secretive about the fact that you knew me that day.”

Seungcheol’s face turned a little disgruntled at that. That just made you laugh, your hand raising up to his cheek again.

“Don’t give me that look,” you mumbled affectionately. “If I hadn’t known I would sort of be a terrible friend.”

Seungcheol laughed, at that, but he still looked a little bothered. He cleared his throat and placed his hand on your wrist. He pulled your hand from his face and intertwined his fingers with yours.

“Just friends huh?” He mumbled. You rolled your eyes at his sudden shy attitude and looked at your interlocked hands.

“Well, I guess it didn’t just have to do with us being friends,” you murmured back. “I wanted to tell you that I know sooner, but it was a little hard after you kissed me that first time. Sort of... Clouded my senses.”

Seungcheol chuckled and rubbed the back of his neck.

“It was kind of dumb of me to do that if I wanted to keep you safe... Wasn’t it?”

You rolled your eyes and leaned forward so that your nose was brushing against Seungcheol’s in what resembled a butterfly kiss. He didn’t seem to think that was enough however, as he leaned even closer and pressed his lips briefly to yours.

“You couldn’t keep me away if you tried,” you whispered back softly.

“There's been a million before me That ultra-kind of love You never walk away from You're just the last of the real ones”

Next Song: Red Like Roses Part I+II by Jeff Williams

#I have lost my agenda #I have no clue what my writing schedule is #I AM LOST WITHOUT IT #so just know that while I am writing #I am an unorganized mess #Seungcheol #Scoups #Super Hero AU #Seventeen AU #Seventeen #Kpop AU #Seventeen Fanfiction #Seventeen Fanfic #Kpop Fanfiction #Kpop Fanfic #Scoups Fanfic #Scoups Fanfictions #Scoups AU #Seungcheol Fanfiction

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the-friday-knight · 3 years

Text

Fuck it

Ben 10 OC Time

Name: Jake Mars

Age: 17 (During OS)

Species: Human

Nationality: American

Eye Colour: Bright Blue

Hair Colour: Brown Black

Appearance: Jake wears a red and black hoodie as his common attire, under which he has a range of different t-shirts with various logos or statements on them, usually related to mechanics or rock music in some way. He wears thick blue jeans and brown steel toed boots. His version of the Omnitrix is on his left wrist. It is nearly an exact replica of the Omnitrix designed by Azmuth, but it won’t stay that way for long.

Personality: Jake is kind. Whenever he comes across an Alien, or some situation that seems odd, he gives the Alien the benefit of the doubt first, for all he knows they could just be scared being on a different world. Of course this isn’t always the case and has landed Jake in a few close calls that he quickly had to get his way out of. Jake is also well versed in mechanical engineering, owning a dark red Plymouth Superbird that he uses to travel the country. Jake decided to leave his home after acquiring the Omnitrix, at the start of the Summer after he had just received his drivers license. This is because he discovered that his Omnitrix was not the only one out there, though he still is not sure who has the others. He left because he wanted to find others with a device like his, and maybe they could work together and help each other figure out the strange Alien watch. He likes to consider himself mature, though that isn’t to say he isn’t reckless at times when it comes to people in danger our people he cares about getting hurt.

Likes: Driving, cars, finding and taking apart Alien tech, rock music, country music, apple pie, black coffee, meeting new people/Aliens.

Dislikes: Prisons, discrimination, Dean, people who question his mechanical knowledge.

Flaws: Jake feels like he has something to prove. This is shown most obviously when he is fighting against an Alien that he is also able to transform into. Even if there is an Alien he has that would be better suited to the fight, he will often transform into the same Alien in an attempt to prove that he can beat them at his own game. He also has a bad habit of antagonising those he is fighting against, to the point where it seems less like hero-villain banter and more just straight up arguing or insulting them.

Strengths: His mechanical knowledge helps him in his fights surprisingly often, especially when going against certain robotic drones that might be out to get him. He is usually quite adaptable to his transformations, and situations where he isn’t the Alien that would be best suited. He has a friendly aura about him, making him easily able to hold a conversation or befriend others, even if they are of a different species.

Jake’s Omnitrix: Jake’s Omnitrix is similar to the one built by Azmuth, however there is one key difference. It’s AI.

Omni: Omni is the AI within Jake’s Omnitrix. She has the appearance of an human female with twin green ponytails, a strange black and green shirt and skirt combo and bright green eyes. When she first met Jake, she requested him to call her Omni-chan. Jake promptly refused. Despite the term AI, Omni was actually a member of a once powerful and prosperous race, who transferred her entire mind into a satellite before her races downfall. She remained in that satellite for an unknown amount of time in deep space, but somehow was able to pick up earth transmissions of a form of entertainment called ‘Anime’. Hence her appearance and name choice. While out there, she also discovered encrypted messages of a design for a piece of technology that would allow someone to transform into a different Alien species. Omni realised this device might be a chance for her to bring her race back. So she immediately started constructing it, following the blueprints to almost a t. However, she was unable to connect with the Codon Stream on Primus, as she needed space to put her mind in. Once completed, she locked the Omnitrix and herself in a pod, and shot it towards Earth.

Omni’s Personality: Omni is a very energetic and intelligent girl. She helped Jake understand the Omnitrix when it first attached itself to him, though she may have also gave him a heart attack when she first revealed herself. If there is something Jake does not know, he will almost always ask Omni for help. She is happy to oblige. However, being cooped up inside a watch does tend to make her a bit bored, and sometimes she will either jump out of the watch or transform Jake at inopportune moments for laughs. She will also rarely change Jake into a different Alien than he requested, if she feels like he has been that Alien too much lately. As she has knowledge of what Anime is, she could be considered a weeb. This proves detrimental when Jake ends up fighting a magic user that imbibes origami creatures with magic to make them life sized and attack. She is a big fan of this Villain and often tries to talk to them in the middle of a fight.

Enemies: Canon Villains Dean: Another wielder of a different kind of Omnitrix that seems to only turn him into Aliens from the Anur system. His watch was dubbed the ‘Anurtrix’ and he uses it to commit petty crime. Jake has fought and defeated Dean several times, foiling his thefts. However, every time Dean manages to slip away some how. (Enemy level: Hands. On sight.) Kitsune: A magic user that uses magic to transform her Origami creations into life sized counterparts. She seems to be after magical artifacts, specifically those of Japanese make. However, she seems to be younger than Jake, making him think she is going through her weeb phase. (Enemy level: Why are you doing this crime it makes no sense? I’m still gonna stop you though.) Colonel Rozum: Jake accidentally staged a breakout at Area 51. Freeing wrongly imprisoned Aliens and helping them return home via the theft of an experimental aircraft capable of space travel. Jake did not join the Aliens in leaving Earth, instead trusting them to make it home without him. Colonel Rozum does not know it was Jake who enabled the breakout, as he was transformed at the time. But as far as he is concerned it only confirmed the danger of Aliens. (Enemy level: You’re a government official so I can’t actually attack you but one day I’m going to punch that stupid moustache off your face.)

Allies: The Tennysons. Detective Arnold Mason: A detective in a large city close to Jake’s hometown. It was where he preformed his first act of heroism in front of people. Unfortunately due to a misunderstanding Mason thought Jake was a part of a rival gang. Jake attempted to clear it up. Mason and two other officers are now aware of a supposedly heroic car. (Ally level: Vigilantism is illegal, but you’re literally fighting Aliens so you do you I guess.)

Trouble Gear: Three Planchaküle that were stranded on Earth. Jake brought them to a junkyard and aided them in returning home. The trio were gifted a CD of AC/DC’s greatest hits by Jake. They consider it their favourite item. Having returned to their home planet, they are not currently available to Jake, but would immediately spring into action to help if he requested it. (Ally level: You helped us get home and introduced us to rock and roll. We will die for you.)

Trivia:

Jake is voiced by Dante Basco.

Omni is voiced by Samantha Ireland.

The first Alien Jake turned into was a Planchaküle. He has named this transformation ‘Ratchet’.

It doesn’t matter if you’re human, Alien, or intergalactic war criminal. If you are being driven somewhere by Jake, you wear. your. seatbelt.

The DNA of Omni’s race is available for Jake to turn into. But Jake doesn’t know that, and Omni actively tries to keep that hidden.

Jake’s Omnitrix has access to the Life Form Lock mode and the Scanner mode.

This theme is red and black, which is usually associated with villains but I thought it’d be funny if Jake had it because of association.

His ethnicity is half-Polynesian on his mothers side.

He isn’t sure if there are alternate counterparts in different dimensions. Though he is pretty sure if there were he would immediately throw hands.

Jake currently has no love interest, though I am considering an eventual redemption of Kitsune that might lead to that.

His Omnitrix will go through a serious design change. I shall share it in another post.

#Ben 10 #Ben 10 OC #Jake Mars

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cyn-00 · 4 years

Text

Moreid one shot, 17 - "my hands"

Season 9, episode 3 "Final shot" (this is the one where the team has to catch a sniper: initially they thought the unsub was motivated by racism, and when they discover that the gun was the same used a few months before by "The General" - in prison, ex leader of a white supremacists group - to kill a black councilman - Adrian Clay - AND that in one of the shootings the assistant d.a. prosecuting him for that crime was killed; they decide to interview him. Re-interpretation of the scene where Morgan and JJ hold hands to make uncomfortable "The General" - racist son of a b*tch - during the interrogation... only there's Reid instead of JJ ;)

I believe @amplifreid and @smileythirteen asked me to tag them ❤️

Also, in my imaginary world, Morgan and Reid are a well established couple by season 9, but to illustrate this scene properly I think it was way better to assume they weren't a couple yet. Also with the same intent, the interview to "The General" (Adam Dawson) happens in an interrogation room with the one-way mirror glass and everything. Bear with the divergence from the actual scene - some of Dawson, Morgan and JJ's (=Reid) lines do remain pretty much the same, though

Read it on AO3

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"Look at the change in his posture when Morgan got in..." Blake sighed, staring attentively at the interrogation room on the other side of the one-way glass. "Cocky. This guy's not gonna give us anything useful."

Rossi gave her an agreeing look, silently mimicking her head-shake while his hands slid in the pockets of his jeans.

"We'll have to work with that. Playing the black agent card is our best and only shot." Hotch replied.

"It's also very much obvious..." Blake added half-heartedly.

"He'll be too blinded by hate to even notice." Reid reassured her with a shrug, finally saying something after being glued to the glass for a few minutes with his arms folded on his chest, concentrated on the interrogation.

"Mr Dawson," Morgan greeted the convict with a fake polite tone, closing the door behind his back.

He sat in front of him and crossed his hands atop the metallic table. "Do you happen to have wondered why you're here?" he asked, squinting his eyes.

"I have a few guesses, yes." Dawson answered confidently.

Morgan tilted his head, while his brows shot up. He'd already picked up on what type of attitude the guy was planning to pull off on him for the whole duration of the interview.

"Would you mind naming a couple of those for me?"

Dawson sighed, nodding his head. "I guess we're talking about my past involvement with the Southern Aryans."

"Past?"

"Past. Look, I even got my tattoos removed." he confirmed, not hesitating to show him the laser scar on the inside of his arm with a self-complacent grin, even if constricted in his movements by the cuffs chained to the table top.

Morgan couldn't bring himself to feign praising at the thought the guy once marked his skin with symbols and slogans to proudly remind himself and others that not only he was a racist son of a bitch, but more than that he also acted upon those retrograde and disgusting ideologies of his. So he just nodded, not even bothering to actually look at Dawson's arm.

Hotch's phone rang in his pocket, distracting him from the dynamic slowly - very slowly - unfolding in the other room.

"What is it Garcia?"

"My baby is in there with Dawson right?? Not that you aren't my baby too, sir- I MEAN you guys ALL are my babies regardless of our age gap-"

"Garcia." Aaron reprimanded her.

"Yes! I'm- I'm sorry, back to business: I managed to dig deep and dirty into every single detail about the murder of Adrian Clay, and in general every little, petty criminal activity this group of disgusting bigots have committed." she paused, gulping so noisily they could all hear it through the phone.

"They- they have engaged in a series of, quote unquote, 'harassments of any sort', in those areas of the city principally frequented by the lgbtq+ community through these past couple years. And- and Clay himself was rumored to be homosexual, but there's no reliable source for that." she explained in a rush, like she wanted to get it out of her brain as quickly as her breath allowed her to.

"...don't know about you, but I'm not all that surprised the shitheads are also homophobic. Those things don't sound like anything a group of neo-nazis wouldn't do, am I right?" Rossi snorted. "They'll target anything 'impure'." he air-quoted the word.

"Yes, that's what I had imagined too, I just- I just hoped I didn't have to get to the point of reading proof of it with my poor, pretty eyes! Like these guys weren't evil on earth already..."

"Garcia, is there a reason why you're telling us this?" Hotch furrowed his brows. They were running out of time, and Morgan was running out of questions aiming at making Dawson say what they wanted him to say.

"Actually sir, I hoped you'd ask because YES, there is a reason, and I know that this is not part of my job but I was thinking that maybe...you guys could use his homophobia at your advantage?" she kept it vague and stopped for a second to catch a reaction. Anything at all. But the others stayed silent to digest that idea.

"like, one of you boys could go in there and act a lil? Believe me I would sacrifice myself for that role, but you know-"

"Actually, that's not a bad idea at all. As Blake said earlier, Dawson was probably expecting us to use a black agent anyway, but this could actually set him off because it's a part of the group's criminal activity that's been hidden from the media and the general public. We're not supposed to even know about this." Reid spoke his mind out loud, receiving in response complete silence and three - well, four, if you count Garcia - pairs of eyes staring at him.

He stared back at them with his lips parted. "W-what? I'm right, right ?"

"You are." Blake simply said, raising a brow.

With a little delay compared to the others' - which NEVER happened - Spencer's mind started to process what that whole staring contest was supposed to mean.

"No- guys, I'm- I'm too young he won't- he'll never fall for it! If you take in account that I look way younger than I am, the age gap between me and Morgan is too wide, he's not a fool I can't-" he was starting to stutter and flush and almost hyperventilate to the point Hotch had to interrupt him.

"Reid. You know it has to be you." he gave him an apologetic look.

Reid wasn't trying to dodge the situation because he had a problem with fake flirting - he did not have a single problem with doing that. On the contrary: fake flirting for an interrogation or the like was the only way for Spencer to manage to pull off a flirty attitude with someone, covering it up with the fact that he was simply good at acting, since in actuality flirting wasn't exactly his first natural skill - it was Derek's. Problem was: he had to flirt with Derek Morgan, not someone.

On the other hand, Spencer also perfectly knew why it was their best shot to send him in instead of Hotch. Still, it was worth the try to dissuade him.

"You could do it, right?" he asked apprehensively, the tone of his voice lower and less certain than before.

Hotch knew he didn't need to explain it to him, so he didn't bother, keeping his gaze steady. Blake took on that duty for him, though:

"Spencer, you are exactly Dawson and his followers' stereotype of ideal human being. You're young, educated, intelligent, attractive, and more importantly: white." she paused, seeing that Reid had embarrassedly dropped his eyes when she mentioned him being attractive. Guess Morgan wasn't the only one labeling him as 'pretty boy' then.

"The only thing that parts you from being total perfection in his eyes, is your sexual orientation." she concluded.

"The minute we send you in, he'll think you're there to save him from an uncomfortable interview with a black agent. But when you'll start making avancés on Morgan, the guy will freak out." Rossi added, straight up.

Making avancés on Morgan. Dear God - Spencer knew he could do that with a minimum effort, and certainly without Derek making a big deal out of it; however the issue was: he would never get away with the physical reaction the avancés on Derek 's part would certainly trigger in his body, would he?

"THAT's what I meant!" Penelope's squealing voice filled the room all of a sudden, reminding them that she was still on speaker phone.

"Alright, thanks Garcia, that was a good catch." Hotch's firm facial expression never wavered an inch, even when he complimented her.

"Duty, sir."

"We can't call Morgan out, though. It has to be unexpected." he added, now only talking to his teammates in the room.

Without waiting for the others' agreeing - there was no need for that: he was right - Hotch pressed the button that allowed him to talk into Morgan's earpiece.

"Morgan. Guy's not only racist, but also homophobic. We're sending Reid in."

Morgan swallowed, trying not to make Dawson notice that he received an unspoken command he wasn't quite sure whether he'd be ready to obey, nor handle - emotionally AND physically.

When the door opened a second after, though, and he glanced over his shoulder at his tall, lean colleague standing behind him, waiting for permission to come in, Derek figured it shouldn't be all that hard to flirt with that.

"Pretty boy! Have a seat, we're having fun here." he gave Spencer his brightest grin, hand gesturing at him to come closer.

The younger agent smiled awkwardly and closed the door, making his way to the chair only 5 inches beside Derek's - who, by the way, was overly aware that their knees would inevitably touch if he didn't pay attention to keeping his legs glued together.

As Spencer got comfortable in his seat, keeping eye contact with him and subtly brushing his tongue in between his pink lips, Derek wondered if that was gonna come naturally to Spencer as it surely was to him. From the look on his face and his body language, Derek was leaning toward yes as an answer to that question.

"Mr Dawson is sick and tired of me." Derek scoffed, leaning back in his chair to stretch an arm on the backrest of Spencer's. "Guessing you came here with a few questions of your own?" he asked him.

"I did." Spencer replied, squinting at Dawson with an inquisitive look. "Mr Dawson, by any chance you've kept in contact with the other members of the Southern Aryans' group?"

"Agent-"

"Doctor." Derek pointed out dryly. "Doctor Spencer Reid." the way he pronounced his name caused Spencer to shift in his seat. Morgan wasn't quite sure why.

"Doctor, then." Dawson snorted, eyebrows raised in surprise as to why the older agent cared that much about specifying the other's title. "As I was saying: I'm in prison. My opportunities to socialize are...somewhat limited." he replied sarcastically. Which was how he'd been doing it at every single question Derek had asked.

The fact that he was managing to keep that cocky attitude was a sign that he wasn't uncomfortable enough. Everyone had imagined he would've got all jittery the second the nickname "pretty boy" would've come out of Morgan's mouth. Apparently so, Derek had to step up his game.

"Spencer, baby," Derek called him so he'd lean back in his chair as well, drawing his face farther away from "The General" and from under the blinding neon light beam illuminating the area of the table.

Reid leaned back as Morgan had implicitly asked him to, crossing his arms on his chest. Spencer, baby. The instinctive part of his brain didn't hesitate a second to recognize the combination of pet name + uncommon use of his first name, associated with Derek's deep voice. Probably because he'd imagined his colleague calling him that a thousand times, along with other names - some less appropriate than others - he couldn't keep his mind from drifting to when he heard that voice of his. The other part of his grey matter though, the logical, predominant one, the one used to Morgan only calling him by his last name or "pretty boy" and "kid" at most; sent a tingling sensation from the canal of his ear where the words reached him, all the way down to his arms and hands.

Spencer kept his gaze on the convict sitting across from them, as he realized Derek had inched dangerously closer to his ear. Dawson shifted nervously in his seat, jerking his eyes away from the two of them.

"You think we should kiss at some point? " the man asked mockingly at last, whispering and with a hand half-covering the motions of his mouth: he was acting like he didn't want Dawson to be able to hear, or read his labial - which, on the contrary, was exactly his plan.

Spencer froze. He tried to keep his look on Dawson unchanged. What he could NOT control, though, was the sensation of heat spreading up his neck, 3 inches from Derek's mouth. Dawson, too, was very noticeably trying to contain his sickened reaction, which turned out to be a mere close-eyed sigh and an irritated clench of jaw.

Reid pulled off the most natural chuckle he could, before answering out loud.

"I don't think it'll be necessary." it was true: Derek had asked only as a joke, and Spencer understood that. But he kinda wished in that moment it were appropriate for him to reply "yes, please, tongue me down during an interrogation."

Derek leaned forward again, finally removing his eyes from that spot of Spencer's jawline below his ear that moved as he spoke.

"Anyway. That's not what we heard." he said, pointing at him and Reid with his finger. "Rumor has it that you're in charge. In fact, you're still known as 'The General'."

"Some folks would like to, uh, imbue me with a great deal of power. But it's a mantle I choose not to accept." The General answered, his voice less arrogant than before and maybe even ever-so-slightly hoarse.

"So you COULD call the shots, you just... choose not to...?" Reid asked, unconvinced and a bit concerned about what kind of annoyingly fake-innocent answer the guy would give this time.

"That's what I said. How can I lead when I no longer believe, 'pretty boy' ?" Dawson replied, back at it with his smug tone, air-quoting the nickname.

Spencer had the abrupt - albeit fictitious - feeling that someone was knotting his guts with their bare hands, when he heard the man pronouncing those two words. Sacred, two words, only reserved to Morgan.

"Doctor Spencer Reid, is my name. Thought you were smart enough to understand it the first time." he said ice cold, leaning forward, knuckles white from crossing his hands too tightly over the table top.

"You're not allowed to call him that." Morgan stated, his black eyes piercing through the man in front of them.

"With all due respect, that's what you called him earlier, agent Morgan."

"With all due respect, Spencer is MY boyfriend, not yours." Derek bit back.

The lack of hesitation in pronouncing the words 'Spencer is my boyfriend' and how good they sounded coming out of Morgan's lips, along with the way he untangled Reid's hands to take one of them in his, warmly and comfortingly intertwining their fingers to loosen the tension in his phalanges - all of it, made Spencer's heart speed up, and his lungs hitch as he breathed, and his mouth water, realizing now more than ever how much he actually wished all of that could be real.

"Although I bet you wish he was your boyfriend, don't you?" Morgan added, teasing Dawson even more. The man snorted, but his body language was telling them that he was struggling to keep an unbothered attitude.

"Is that why you killed Adrian Clay? Because he was black and probably had a boyfriend, just like agent Morgan here?" Spencer asked.

Derek looked at him with his brows raised, pleased at how well he was keeping up with his game. Though, that sensation managed to ease only partially the slight but sudden feeling of discomfort that hit in his chest, at the news that the councilman that was killed was black AND gay, just like...him? Was he bisexual? The things flashing in Morgan's mind in reaction to the proximity with Reid's body, and that feeling of having his hand melting in his - the feeling that holding Spencer's hand was right - were making Derek doubt even more his already unclear understanding of his own sexual orientation. Doctor Spencer Reid was making him doubt once again his sexual orientation.

Clenching his hands in tight fists, Dawson made an effort to visibly swallow the expectedly offensive comments he bore on the matter - Derek found himself mentally thanking him for that - and shifted his eyes toward the wall at his left, too disgusted by him and Spencer to keep looking at them any longer.

As soon as he did that, Morgan felt Reid's hand slipping out of his, much to his silent disapproval.

"Alright Derek we- we're wasting our time here." Spencer mumbled, turning his back on Derek with his eyes low and placing a palm on the table top, about to stand up from the chair.

Derek had the impression that Spencer's reaction was somewhat genuine, that he really was starting to get triggered by The General's attitude - righteously. But, as selfish as he knew it sounded, he didn't want Reid to leave his side. His hand. Him.

Before he could effectively get up, Morgan wrapped his hand around that spot on Reid's arm, the crook where his forearm met his bicep, a couple inches below his shirt rolled up sleeve; that spot where his exposed skin was sensitive enough that those curling fingers sprung tickling chills everywhere, intense to the point of Spencer freezing in place and turning his head to give Derek worried puppy eyes and sweet, slightly pouty lips that Goddammit can I just KISS them off his face?

"C'mon baby, I just have a few more questions" Derek settled to say, softly, trying to recover from that fucking look of his.

"No seriously, can- can we just g-"

"Hey, hey, hold tight. We haven't even got to the point yet. It'll only take a second and then we don't have to see this son of a bitch's face anymore alright? Promise." Morgan reassured him; pitch black irises staring straight into hazel brown ones.

Spencer sighed and nodded, as Derek loosened the grip. He leaned back on his chair and crossed his arms, annoyed but ready to listen to more of the man's crap.

Dawson snorted. "You must have quite the nerve to come in here and insult me, tell me I'm a racist and a homophobic-"

"Nobody said either of those things, Mr Dawson." Derek tilted his head. "We asked, and you didn't answer. Not verbally anyway. Seems to me that now you are the one saying those words, uh?"

"What do you know about today's events?" Reid cut it short, not even willing to wait for Dawson's reaction at Morgan's insinuation.

"Today's events?"

"You must have heard about the shootings." Derek specified, carelessly leaning on the backrest, and decided it was the moment to do what he had planned on doing since Spencer entered the room.

Reid had his eyes fixated on Dawson, to catch every single twitch of his facial muscles, or minute movement of his body.

Suddenly he felt a hot, broad hand wrapping around his inner thigh. He sincerely hoped the only physical reaction to that were his toes curling up inside his shoes, or at worst how his breath got stuck in his throat for a second, and nothing visible on the outside - because on the inside, he could feel his whole abdomen heat up at a concerning rate.

When the man's hand started stroking back and forth, each time his palm went upwards it seemed to Spencer that it was getting closer and closer to that part of his body he wished so bad Derek wasn't aiming for - at least not in that context. Spencer tightened the grip of his hands bracing his arms, thanking God that shirts were made of cotton and not paper that would start flaking off under the squeezing pressure of sweaty fingers.

He couldn't allow himself to take his eyes off Dawson, especially now that he'd seen Morgan's hand on Reid's thigh and had immediately stiffened up; his temples glimmering with sweat under the neon light.

Dawson gulped nervously and looked away from the whole rubbing of skin on fabric, bringing his gaze back to Morgan's smirking face. "Enlighten me."

"The assistant d.a. prosecuting you for the murder of Adrian Clay was killed." Reid condensed the explanation, realizing that if he wanted to look natural he had to say something. He admittedly did a pretty good job at keeping his voice steady, considering Morgan's hand seemed having no intention to find rest any time soon.

A confused scowl crinkled the convict's face.

"Did you order that hit?" Derek asked. To be fair, both him and Spencer were almost 100% sure by then that the guy had no idea what they were talking about.

"I had nothing to do with it." Dawson asserted without hesitation, his voice deep and unfazed.

By that point, Spencer had relaxed into the other's touch, and he didn't know whether it was supposed to be a good sign or not. He didn't know whether the fact that he melted like jelly under Morgan's hands, even being usually uncomfortable with touching in general, was a good sign because it meant that he felt safe within their friendship and trustful of him; or it was a bad sign because it meant that his body was designed to be touched like that by his colleague and him only. He didn't know whether it was good that if he thought of anyone else - his former crush JJ, for instance - touching him in a way that wasn't finalized to be emotionally comforting, he would picture it as uneasy regardless, be it 30 seconds or 30 minutes long; whereas he was almost certain that that very same kind of touch applied upon his body by Morgan's hands would be in equal parts electrifying and soothing each time, all the time.

He wasn't supposed to try and understand any of it, though. Nobody was asking that of him - Derek wasn't asking and would never ask that of him. There was no need for Spencer to spend hours analyzing how that kind of approach would affect him. Because it was an unrealistic scenario that didn't belong in his future, anyway.

A growing wave of self-consciousness and realism woke Reid up from that thought. All of a sudden he realized he couldn't bear staying there any longer than a couple minutes at best. Hence, he speeded things up.

"You had nothing to do with it?" Spencer's calm voice echoed in the room that had been silent for a while. Dawson didn't repeat himself.

Derek was ready to throw in the towel - he was frustrated that the case wouldn't come to a solution as easy and logical as a white supremacist targeting the assistant d.a. prosecuting him, but on the other hand he couldn't say he hadn't enjoyed spending time touching Spencer without the commitment of having to admit he would've wanted to do it regardless of the interview.

With the corner of his eye he saw Spencer finally untangling his arms and stretching one of them toward him. He didn't have the time to take a mental guess on what he was planning to do, that he felt his feather-like fingers slightly brushing against his nape.

Derek's palm stopped moving on the other's thigh, immobilized, the moment Spencer's cotton-hand spread to cup the back of his neck; a lukewarm and soft sensation growing on the very surface of his skin as well as deep inside his chest - nothing short of a cheesy metaphor, if you will, of how Spencer's touch had the power of rocking up both his emotions AND his body.

When Spencer's thumb started tracing slow circles on the side of his neck, Derek found himself imperceptibly tilting his head back to sink into his touch; trying not to put pressure or, way worse, squeeze the other man's thigh, who might've taken it as a cue that Morgan was enjoying what he was doing. He most certainly was, by the way.

"And that would be, because you're not racist or homophobic anymore?" Spencer ultimately asked.

God, he was smarter than he gave himself credit for when it came to pushing all the bad guys' buttons. And they couldn't even get mad, with that face that he had. At least, Derek knew he could never - best case scenario, he would limit to sprinkling said face with kisse- ahem, what?

"I'm done talking to you." Dawson claimed, having pulled himself together enough to bring back almost entirely that confident attitude he had when Morgan first got in.

"Oh, we are too." Morgan said arching his brows. He stood up on his feet, regretting detaching from Reid's contact immediately after.

"Mr Dawson, I can't tell you how impressed i am with you!" he added dry-wittingly.

Derek leaned forward over the table and grabbed the man's hands in his own, cuffed to the cold, metallic surface. He kept his eyes no more than 7 inches from his, making sure he couldn't escape them.

"So I'd like to shake your hand, and congratulate you for making such a positive change in your life." he said, his voice low and thorough, resonating in The General's ears.

Dawson lost his cool and instinctively tried to snatch his hands away from Morgan's grip, soon realizing it wasn't his grip he couldn't escape, rather the one obliged by the chained handcuffs.

"I'd be really careful." Morgan advised, a stabbing glare in his eyes.

"Because somebody might think you still believe."

Clearly, Derek had long lost any interest in keeping the boyfriend-play going: he looked furious and quite nauseous - and it was his God-given right to feel as such. Nonetheless, that was nothing but the millionth proof that Spencer had no reason to fantasize about their relationship becoming something more, someday.

Morgan stormed out of the room. Reid followed a few seconds after, which he'd spent shooting Dawson one last glance - not nearly as threatening and blood-freezing as his colleague's, but still.

When they got on the other side of the glass, Reid felt all eyes on them - especially on him, for some reason. It was like someone slapped him back into reality.

"Sorry guys, I- I kinda snapped." Morgan finally spoke up, a hand on his hip and the other rubbing his face.

"Don't. It was very much understandable." Blake reassured him, waving a hand and shaking her head.

"Well, what can I say?" Rossi changed the topic. "Great job in there." he added with a hint of smirk, arching a brow and shifting his gaze from Spencer to Derek and viceversa several times.

"Pretty boy here did all the work." Derek's tone was lighter now, as he pointed at pretty boy.

Spencer bit the inside of his cheek, unable to even say a due "thank you" - it would've come off as pathetic in that moment, to say the least.

"It- it was kinda useless, though...he had no idea what we were talking about." he said instead, sighing disappointedly and crossing his arms on his chest.

"He didn't even explicitly confess anything about his past crimes that we brought up. We literally only managed to confirm that he's a racist, homophobic piece of shit." Derek scoffed.

"We didn't need to put up a show for that though, did we?" he concluded, as his previous frustration arose again; seconds before splitting his way through his standing teammates to get out of the room.

They followed him with their eyes, and once the door was closed - slammed, almost - behind him, they got back to looking at Reid, who was frowning deeply.

After a long silence, Rossi nodded his head toward the door, like he was giving him permission to go and talk to Morgan.

Reid sighed and followed Morgan's previous steps, trying to hide how his words and tone from earlier had someway offended him. Judging by his demeanor and his glances in the interrogation room, Spencer could've sworn Derek seemed to have almost enjoyed it - he didn't care that it was probably more of a mocking kind of enjoyment, rather than a genuine 'I enjoyed touching you'. It was still something. And, at the end of the day, Derek Morgan had rubbed a hand on his thigh 2 inches from his groin, for Christ's sake, how dare he keep complaining?

He was startled awake from his paranoia by Hotch's hand, placed on his shoulder the second Spencer had grabbed the door handle.

"I hope I didn't push you too much. I'm sorry if I did."

Spencer shook his head. "Not me. I don't know about Morgan, though."

"Hey" a soft voice awakened Morgan from his thoughts.

He stopped pacing up and down the hallway and raised his eyes from the floor. He truly wasn't expecting Reid to follow him.

"H- hey, kid."

"Everything alright?"

No. Nothing was alright. From how wrong and dirty Dawson's behavior made him feel, to how right he found himself unwillingly thinking the contact with Spencer's body was: NOTHING was alright.

"Yeah, yeah I'm fine." he answered anyway.

Spencer nodded, unconvinced. And this time it wasn't because of his capability to read his colleague and best friend like an open book, rather simply because Derek didn't know how to hide his discomfort anymore.

Reid made a few steps forward, supposedly to make the conversation more intimate - though nobody was really around, so that left the other a bit confused. Plus, boy was definitely too close now, if it was Derek's to say.

"Look, I- I'm sorry it had to be me, I tried to convince Hotch to do it at my place but- but he said that I was more suited to be-" Spencer almost hiccuped. "...for the role, because I'm younger and-"

"Hey, hey, it's alright, it's not you." Derek interrupted him, placing a hand on his shoulder, seeing that he was starting to get flustered and even guilty on some measure. He also noticed how he avoided the word 'boyfriend'. He wasn't sure what to think of that, though.

"It's him. How he looked at us- at ME. I just- I don't know, I just can't believe some people out there really think it's not normal to be gay or black or both, that's all." Derek paused. "as if one could help it, right?" he snorted.

Spencer raised his eyes from the floor. "Yeah. I get that." he murmured.

Derek chuckled a little as a thought popped into his head, taking his hand off of Spencer's shoulder and shoving it back in his pocket.

"Honestly I don't know if I could've done it with Hotch. He's my superior, it would've been...weird, lemme tell you."

Reid giggled and...blushed a little? At least that's what it seemed. Morgan didn't take it well, though: he thought he'd made him uncomfortable.

"I mean," he swallowed sheepishly. "I mean, I hope I didn't...mess you up. I know you're not comfortable with touching."

Mess him up. That was cute. Derek Morgan had "messed him up" the second he had introduced himself to Spencer on his first day at the BAU. The guy had never known Spencer as not messed up.

"W- what?? No, no absolutely not, it was part of the thing. We- you had to...touch me. Wouldn't have worked otherwise." Spencer replied, furrowing his brows and shaking his head vigorously.

Silence.

"I have to ask you this..." Morgan said, regaining his usual teasing attitude. Reid wasn't sure if he was supposed to be relieved, because it meant the man had relaxed a little; or if he should start worrying about what that attitude would imply. Probably the second.

"Ask what?" Spencer hoped his heart couldn't be heard as loudly from outside as it was inside his ears.

"Was it all...acting?" Derek paused, and Spencer faked a confused expression, because before answering he had to be sure he meant what he thought he meant.

"...cause it looked very natural, if you ask me." Yeah, he did mean what Spencer thought he meant.

Morgan looked around quickly and came even closer. He non-chalantly took Reid's tie in his hands and straightened it - earning a gasp from him - biting his bottom lip like he was really concentrated on the task - which he wasn't. He didn't give a shit if his tie was ok, he was clearly doing it to make Reid's blood pulse out of his veins.

"Was it? Natural?" he repeated, almost murmuring at that point.

Spencer didn't know what to answer: he had stopped the train of thought that would've eventually led to a proper answer to that question when he was in the interrogation room, and he had suddenly realized that Derek would never ask such a thing of him. And there he was: asking it to him.

"I guess, kinda...? I- I'm not sure-" he finally replied, his chin tilted down to follow with his eyes what the man's hands were carefully doing with his tie, taking advantage in the fact that Derek couldn't look at his face in order to do that.

He couldn't stop his mind from drifting to that imaginary place where Morgan's hands would most definitely not stick to adjusting his tie; that place where he was allowed to wonder that if the man was so good at adjusting ties, then what else could those nimble fingers do.

As if that weren't enough already, Derek ran his tongue in between his lips, before speaking up.

"Me neither."

Suddenly, he raised his eyes to look at something that was happening behind Reid's shoulder. He coughed and nodded in that direction, forcing himself to take his hands off Spencer.

Reid turned around and saw it: Hotch, Blake and Rossi were walking their way toward them; luckily chatting instead of looking at Morgan "adjusting his tie" or whatever.

"And did you mind? My hands, I mean." Derek whispered in his ear from behind him, making him wince at how those words flowed smoothly in a hot, steamy wave over his neck.

Spencer didn't turn around, nor look at him with the corner of his eye - which he could've easily done. He concentrated on staring forward at their teammates approaching closer, rather than on the inviting heat radiating from the man only a few inches behind him.

"...n- not- not really..." he muttered, not sure what kind of nerve pushed him to give Morgan even the slightest hint that he could've enjoyed it, instead of denying adamantly.

Another breathy, humid whisper tickled his ear.

"Me neither."

17 notes · View notes

chrysanthemums-au · 4 years

Text

Season of Chrysanthemums

SUMMARY: Within the outer limits of Corona, Cassandra meets Varian, who seems to be as insubstantial and ethereal as the black rocks. The two lost…forgotten…overlooked (?) souls decide to wander the streets at nightfall in search of ghosts.

Though, as Varian has long since had a connection to the spirits of the departed, how can Cassandra be sure if the alchemist is who he says himself to be?

CHAPTER 2-Fall from Grace

AO3 LINK

“You’re going the wrong way, Cassie,” Varian says, glancing once more at Monty’s sweets shop for the third time in a row. They had been wandering for quite some time, but they had never made it far beyond the patch of flowers on the outskirts of the kingdom.

Chrysanthemums, is what they are called. Varian frowns as he glances at the plethora of flowers that are as nigh abundant as the black rocks that have overtaken Old Corona. From a distance, the blood-red flowers seem almost spider-like, which…is fitting.

Prior to the blizzard, he…had rarely seen them. His dad, well, ever since his mother disappeared—

He had gotten rid of all traces of the accursed flower from their village. Of course, it was easier said than done. If he had ever come across one of those cursed flowers, Quirin would merely avert his eyes.

“In a certain sense, both those flowers and I are the same,” Varian muses, stride not quite meeting with Cassandra. Chrysanthemums symbolize death, and Varian…he is everything that one would not desire their child to be. He cannot fault his beloved father from avoiding his very presence.

Varian, if many from his village are to be believed, is as non-descript as a ghost. With how rarely he leaves his lab buried underneath the foundations of Old Corona, the very sight of him could be seen as an ominous foreboding of tragedies to follow.

And, considering the numerous explosions that follow in his wake…were it not for his affinity for destruction and mayhem, his existence would be that of an old legend—

His very existence…whether it be from the village or his father’s own eyes, is an aberration.

Like the numerous chrysanthemums that have sprung up all over Corona, Varian is as welcome within everyday life as a funeral procession on a sunny day.

Chrysanthemums are often used as funerary flowers and Varian…

He does not wish to follow them, but similarly to that of the black rocks—

They have embedded themselves into his life. Death is as prominent a part to his very being as breathing.

Though, try as he might, he cannot bring himself to care. As he listens to the rhythmic pattern of their footsteps on cobblestone road, he just…does not care. Or at least, that is what he tells himself.

Varian feels as if he is submerged underwater. He does not know where or how this journey will progress, but he will follow where the tides take him.

---

Cassandra is unnerved. The alchemist, he is much too…compliant. He does not speak. Varian…he is eerily observant of everything and nothing.

She feels like he is judging her.

It is a feeling she does not like, but he hasn’t exactly committed any crimes. And so, she continues to bury these feelings.

Still, she glances at him from the corner of her eye—she wishes he would not call her ‘Cass’ or any variation of her name.

They are not friends. They are not acquaintances, and they most certainly are not family. She does not need any friends except for Rapunzel, and she would like to keep it that way. This alchemist…she merely pities him.

It is true that she prefers peace and quiet above all else, but this silence is unfathomable. If it were to continue, Cassandra knows it will drown her.

She stops as she spots…another horrid chrysanthemum. The sight of it makes her blood boil, irrationally so, and she crushes it underneath her boot.

“What the hell are with these flowers,” Cassandra says, frowning. “It’s like the kingdom’s celebrating a second Day of Hearts…and goodness knows we need more than one disgustingly sweet holiday per year.”

Varian is still as he glances up at Cassandra. It occurs to her that for once, he might actually be ‘seeing’ her and not…anything else.

“I’ve never celebrated Day of Hearts,” Varian simply states. His attention is now directed to the now desecrated chrysanthemums.

“Your parents have never put a chocolate egg in your stocking?” Cassandra asks. She’s not surprised, but this is the most she has heard the alchemist talk about himself all evening.

“Wrong holidays, Cassie,” Varian states.

“Again with the nicknames,” Cassandra grumbles to herself. “Oh, shut up, kid. You know what I meant.”

The alchemist smiles, almost fondly, but it seems ill-suited and horribly mismatched on him. “Dad’s too busy to celebrate, but I don’t mind.”

“Your dad, huh? What’s he like?” Cassandra asks, curiosity piqued.

“He’s great,” Varian says. There is a light in his eyes, but it looks sad. Uncertain. He chuckles, but the sound is much too hollow.

Quickening his pace, he walks past Cassandra, and she swears that the curious streak in his hair is glowing. She looks up at the night sky, and for a minute—she cannot help but compare the serene full moon to the sad, broken alchemist.

And as quickly as Varian had spoken about himself, the ever-resilient silence had enveloped the duo once more.

Her mind wanders, and she cannot help but wonder what it is about the alchemist that has her so concerned. He is not the only troubled child in the kingdom. During the time Princess Rapunzel had been whisked away by an evil witch, the king had an iron-hold on Corona. There were many orphaned children before her disappearance, and there were many deaths. The high mortality rate is the one constant of every kingdom, but until Rapunzel had reappeared, executions were abundant.

Cassandra’s dad always shielded her from public executions, but as she grew older, she became more accustomed to them. Corona did not condone witch burnings, but hangings were much too common.

This is a facet of the kingdom the king had buried ever since Rapunzel had returned.

Quite frankly, she does not know if Rapunzel truly knows what the kingdom had been like for the last eighteen years.

Cassandra is a strong believer in punishment and justice, but executing petty criminals over thievery…she does not know how to feel about that. She is not naïve enough to believe there is no hunger or sadness in Corona.

But, the king’s word is law. Cassandra knows this, and she is a firm supporter of the royal family.

She’d never admit this, but she wouldn’t wish a gory end to someone as stupid as the princess’s boyfriend.

Eugene is the worst, but even he doesn’t deserve to be lynched. The thief’s faults outweigh his good points, but if there is one positive to be said—

Were it not for him, the princess would never have returned to the throne. Had he never stolen the crown, Cassandra would have never met Rapunzel.

Of course, she’d never admit this to his face, or anyone else, for that matter. His head is big enough as it is.

Though, as Cassandra thinks of the alchemist, she cannot suppress the sinking realization and bizarrely enough, relief…that he is not what the rumors imply him to be. In another time, in another place, Varian could have been capable of feats beyond her imagining.

However, in this here and now, Varian is nothing.

He is a blank slate, but Cassandra does not know if this is good or bad…for him and the kingdom.

---

The alchemist is apprehensive. He swears they have been walking in circles, but he does not voice his observation—Cassandra is already irritated by their predicament as it is. He does not wish to add onto her growing stress.

Still, a part of him is worried of what Cass would think of this. Surely, she’ll eventually realize he is to blame for their wayward status.

Any misfortune that Varian encountered or anyone that had the bad luck to meet him are all due to him. This is a fact, albeit one that he has grown weary of.

“Hey, kid, Varian—” This is what snaps Varian out of his reverie.

“You’re awfully silent; got something on your mind? He knows the swordswoman is unnerved by his presence. It would be more surprising if she were not, but there is a darkness seeping into his vision.

Varian hesitates, and then…

“Always,” he says. Varian can barely hear her voice. Cassandra…she sounds muffled and far away.

As his vision slowly ebbs away, Varian feels a bone-chilling cold slice through the air like a thin knife. Shadows with bright, glowing eyes—they are always there. Ever present. Vigilant. Watching.

But today, in this time and now, they scare him.

For once, they are not gathered around him. Their mirthless grins and icy, raspy whispers are not directed towards the alchemist.

Instead, they are drawn to the dark-haired woman.

He is not scared for himself, but Cassandra…what is it about her that draws them near?

Varian reaches one hand out towards her, but it is too late. The windows of the store shatter into pieces and his world is enveloped in a dark kaleidoscope of jagged edges and glass.

Cassandra’s voice echoes into the night as she repeatedly yells his name. He manages to catch a glance before falling into the depths of unconsciousness, and that is when she sees her.

The small, blue ghost girl…she is standing behind Cassandra. Her hands are clasped together in a mockery of a prayer. The girl’s eyes are large, and almost pupil-less in her excitement.

Perhaps she is not a ghost like Varian had once thought. This enchanted girl is not a phantom or lost soul, but something more. Something old and dark.

Her grin is far, far too large on her face.

“Good night, my dear moondrop,” she says.

And then…

Nothing.

---

Varian wakes up. But it is not in this ‘here’ and ‘now’. He is nearly overcome by joy when discovering that he is back in Old Corona. Ruddiger is curled up in a tight ball on his pillow, but he knows that this is not where he belongs.

Old Corona had been buried under snow and black rocks. Right now, it is a dream. As much as he’d like to stay, he knows he cannot—not as long as Varian’s father is trapped in amber.

At the moment, he is not a corpse. Quirin is not a suspended corpse buried within a translucent tomb of loathsome crystal. He knows this, but Varian cannot cope with living in such close quarters with one he can see but cannot speak with.

It is almost like how he had felt with his mother.

Varian does not remember much of her. She had left one day with promises to return…but instead, she vanished.

Only empty promises and a broken family were left in her wake.

If there is anything Varian hates more than himself, it is broken promises.

There was nothing left to bury, but Quirin tried. She had always loved apples, from what little his father had told him of her. And so, there is a small patch of earth underneath one of his their apple trees dedicated to her.

The gravestone is chipped and ugly in its imperfections, but it is also beautiful. Had it not been where it was, Varian would have truly believed his mother would one day return. Childishly, he had once believed his dad would be proud of him if he could be the one to find her.

Though, of course, these were merely the musings of a lonely child. As time grew on, Quirin neglected the grave until…it became overrun with weeds and cobwebs. His father could not bear to look at the grave—

It only reminded him of his lost wife.

Back when his dad could look him in the eyes, he’d say Varian was the splitting image of her. Varian thinks this is why Quirin will not exchange more than one or two phrases with him nowadays, or…why he does not spare him a single glance.

The alchemist wishes this to be the answer, but it is but a dream. His mother who loved alchemy and apples, she will never return. And his dad—

Quirin has never uttered these words, but he knows. Varian is well aware he is a disappointment in his father’s eyes. Afterall, Varian is a problem child, as the other villagers are more than eager to gossip.

Though, never to him or his father, of course. Quirin is the village chief, and Varian, well, they are scared of him.

More so than the explosions that follow his every move, more than botched experiments and inventions gone haywire, Varian can—

Varian can see the dead, or at least, that is what the other villagers say.

He, himself, does not know what exactly it is that he sees, but he is self-aware enough to know that they are visions no sane person should witness.

It had started off small. A faint flicker at the corner of his eye, shadowy figures roaming the halls of his home at the dead of night…it was nothing to be concerned with.

“Merely the overactive imagination of a child,” is what his father had always told him. But, they had persisted as they had grown older.

Varian tried his best to ignore them, but by then, it was too late. The damage had already been done, and the village of Old Corona regarded him with fear and contempt.

Rumors circulated that he, himself, was a ghost haunting the village, or more infuriatingly—

A wizard of all things.

Thankfully, his father had never put much stock into the rumors. For that, Varian was grateful. But he knew Quirin did not trust him. From how Quirin would walk on eggshells around him or how he could not look Varian in the eyes, much less be in the same room as him, Varian knew.

His dad was not scared of him. Rather, he was scared for him.

Visions are not normal. Disembodied shadows…are what you’d read about in a childish story.

Quirin had never outright told Varian any of this, but he had seen the pills he’d slip into Varian’s meals. It was clockwork—every morning before heading out into the fields.

And as it was a routine, Varian would toss his breakfast out every morning. He did not want to waste food, but he knew this was not the help he needed.

Varian wished he could be a perfect son; it was what his father deserved.

He wanted to gift his father a sense of normalcy in their lives. But instead, their world was an empty house and filled with the cold, mirthless laughter of silence and forgotten promises.

Involuntary, Varian raises his hand to his eyes and is surprised to find it damp with tears.

He sits down on the floor of his fake house. He stays there for hours and hours until he…is not.

---

Varian awakens to the sight of the concerned swordswoman. It is odd, he thinks, of how much she cares. No one had ever cared for him…not during his previous life, or his supposed afterlife. The sight is as unnerving at the scent of chrysanthemums that have overtaken Corona.

The comparison is gaudy, and tasteless, and macabre, but he feels like a cadaver within a coffin. With how distressed Cassandra appears, he could almost believe this to be a funeral.

He’d nearly believe it too, were it not for the dull pain radiating around his head.

To his surprise, he notices a small tear on the swordswoman’s sleeve. Apparently, Cassandra had used it as a makeshift bandage. It seems that in his fall, Varian had lightly grazed his head.

For a mere, guilty moment, Varian looks away from the swordswoman. She is prickly and chilling, but there is also warmth buried deep inside her. These kindnesses are more than he could ever deserve. He is thankful, but he knows nothing he could ever do would be enough to repay her.

He looks up towards the night sky and is entranced by the moon. It is large, glowing…he feels as if it is beckoning him to follow.

Slowly rising to his feet much to Cassandra’s protests, Varian walks forward. He does not appear to entirely be ‘there’, or present, and Cassandra is concerned for the strange alchemist once more.

She wants to help, but she feels as if she is carrying the weight of heavy lead on her back. Helpless, Cassandra looks on, and sees where it is the alchemist has gone.

Varian.

Varian is going to jump.

Cassandra curses. She had thought it better to traverse high ground as she carried the injured alchemist towards the castle. Ideally, it made for a shorter route, but now more than anything else, she regrets her decisions.

Due to her mistake, he will die.

---

The moon is comforting. Varian had always loved the night, which was just yet another reason as to why he was truly a disappointment. With the absence of sunlight, their fields would not yield any crops.

He knows there is nothing good to come from the absence of light, but it is only in darkness that he can find peace.

Varian’s steps slow to a halt as he looks over the edge. Only, to him, he sees…something. There is a person beckoning to him. Red hair, goggles that look so much like his, only hers are not quite so old and antiquated.

Her face is sun-kissed and covered in freckles. The woman’s eyes are soft as she beckons him to walk forward.

One step, and they will be reunited.

All it will take for Varian to finally achieve happiness is a single second. One quick decision and his journey will finally be over.

He takes in one deep breath, raises one foot over the ledge, but—

---

Cassandra is scared. She is terrified. While she manages to catch Varian in the nick of time, the damage has already been done. She is out of her element. Had she missed him by a single moment, Varian would have shattered into pieces atop the black rocks that have sprung up stories below their feet.

If she failed to catch him, Varian—

He would be as broken as one of the wooden dolls in her childhood. The only difference here is that some cheap glue could piece them back together, but Varian would have been beyond salvation.

She sees the light blue glow of his eyes and the curious hairstreak in his hair, but she does not care in her anger and terror.

The alchemist, he tried to end his own life, and Cassandra…she was powerless to stop him. Just a slip of the hand, and he would have been gone.

Cassandra grits her teeth as she looks down at Varian. He is crumpled on the ground, his wrist still clasped tightly in her hand. His glove has shifted slightly to reveal skin marred with bruises.

She is angry. At herself, at how broken this child is, at the lot life has thrown at him…them.

Grabbing him by the shoulders, Cassandra yells at the alchemist. She knows he is not to blame here. He is a victim of life. Varian deserves help and understanding, which is something that she can sadly not give him.

Varian is not alright.

No sane person would throw themselves off a ledge.

She is frustrated with the blank look in Varian’s eyes. She wants to knock some sense into him, but he is not Rapunzel or Lance or….that ridiculous man. He is Varian, but she does not know him.

Sighing, Cassandra lets him go. She knows anger does not help, but what else is she to do? Thankfully, they are nearly at the castle.

Only there, will the alchemist finally be safe.

Varian looks at her and smiles. It is a sad smile, and not one that reaches his eyes, but it is sincere. Cassandra’s heart nearly breaks at the sight. She does not ‘deal’ with emotions, but she’s not nearly as heartless as she’d like to believe.

“Thank you, Cassie,” Varian says. He reaches into the pocket of his apron and pulls out a glass vial filled with a semi-translucent, bubbling formula.

In her tiredness, Cassandra is too slow to catch him. He tosses the vial towards the ground and Cassandra’s world is enveloped in smoke.

As the smoke clears, the swordswoman realizes the alchemist has gone missing.

He had vanished into thin air.

Perhaps there was some truth to the rumors. Had she not followed them, she would never have met this broken, sorrowful ghost.

With a shudder, she cannot help but be thankful for them. Had she not listened to them on a whim, Varian could have died this evening.

As she slowly walks backs towards the castle, Cassandra hopes the alchemist will be alright.

Now, more than ever, Cassandra is lost.

#Tangled #Tangled the Series #Varian #Varian Tangled #Varian the Alchemist #Cassandra #Cassandra Tangled #Fanfic

11 notes · View notes

vagrantblvrd · 5 years

Text

Twist of Fate (1/1)

Summary: Between one thing or another they haven’t had the chance for leave in a while.

Notes: Prompt fill for Anon who wanted Battle Buddies with one of them trying to win a stuffed toy at a carnival booth. :D?

(Read on AO3)

Between one thing or another they haven’t had the chance for leave in a while. Always a critical mission here or world-threatening crisis there. Enormous mountain of paperwork to forge through with command breaking down their necks, that kind of thing.

So this?

A chance to unwind for a few hours on (relatively) friendly soil before someone back at HQ secures them transport back home is a nice break.

Jeremy’s charming a booth operator, Ryan can hear him from here. He’s using that atrocious southern accent of his that slips every other sentence. Can never hold on to accent for long, will swing from southern to some mangled form of British or other to an approximation of Australian.

Irish, sometimes, when he’s feeling a little family pride.

Half a dozen other accents that would rightly insult their native speakers if they even recognized them for what they were. (Jeremy...he’s just bad at accents.)

Ryan can’t help the fond little grin that breaks out as Jeremy walks towards him. Smirking like an asshole and two heaping plates of amusement park food.

Greasy, covered in cheese, and likely to contribute to heart problems somewhere down the line just looking at it.

“The hell is that?” he asks, as Jeremy hands Ryan one of the plates, gesturing towards an area with picnic tables under canvas awnings.

Jeremy, because he’s Jeremy, shrugs and shovels a sporkful of the stuff in his mouth.

“Who knows,” he says, “Lorna gave it to us for free and promised there’s less than ten percent rat meat in it.”

That -

Okay, yes.

They are in Los Santos, cesspool of the great and beautiful state of San Andreas, so that’s a thing. (Only here, Ryan knows, would that kind of statement be something to be proud of.)

“Let’s never come back here again,” Ryan says, because any percent of rat meat in anything is too much.

Jeremy, because he’s Jeremy, laughs at him like he thinks Ryan’s joking. (He’s not, but really, what are the odds they’ll end up back here again anyway?

========

Ryan must have been a horrible human being in a past life because they end up in Los Santos again.

To be fair, it’s probably the safest place for them to be now what with the whole thing with the agency and all.

“Wow,” Jeremy says, limping a little. “This places smells worse than I remember.”

To be fair they didn’t exactly take the scenic tour through Los Santos’ sewers the last time they were here.

Oversight on their part because it’s just lovely down here.

“Less talking, more walking,” Ryan grunts, and it’s mostly the bruised ribs talking. “Also, yes.”

Jeremy snorts, moving closer and being all so subtle about worrying about Ryan falling on his face and into ankle-deep sewage as they trudge along.

One of Ryan’s old contacts has set up business in Los Santos, ought to be able to help them out, if they can find him.

Just gotta keep the cops from finding them after the commotion they got pulled into. Daylight robbery and comical ineptitude on the part of the cops that had them mistaking Ryan and Jeremy as the robbers, and they’ve only been in Los Santos for a few hours.

It’s been a hell of a day. (Week? Month? He’s lost track by now.)

========

Between one thing or another they haven’t had the chance for time off in a while. Always a job here or a heist there. Cops on their assess because Jeremy just won’t let this whole damn Rimmy Tim business go and people notice. (People in Los Santos are just different than people anywhere else. Sniff that shit out like you wouldn’t believe.)

Still.

Every once in a while they manage to get some time to themselves away from the chaos of the crew. Get the opportunity to walk around the city without someone looking at them and pegging them as public enemy number one.

They end up back at Del Perro Pier where they got their first real look at Los Santos all those years ago. (A lifetime ago.)

It’s changed a lot since then, chic little restaurants and cafe’s replacing most of the outdoor eating areas. Food vendor booths with their questionable foods boasting about the lack of rat meat in their dishes like that was the selling point that would convince people to hand over their money.

Although...he’s not so sure the food these chic little restaurants and cafe’s are selling are much better when he thinks about it.

Ryan still doesn’t know what they had for lunch, but it was tasty enough and odds are good they won’t live to deal with the consequences anyway.

Not with the way the Fakes approach life, all chaos and anarchy and this careless disregard for their own mortality like they’re racing the clock. (Everyone’s always running out of time, more so here in Los Santos than anywhere else Ryan’s been.)

Jeremy nudges Ryan with his elbow, tips his head towards the midway and waggles his eyebrows.

“You know,” he says, grin on his face and mischief in his voice. “We never did get the chance to really check this place out before.”

That sounds ominous, given it’s Jeremy and nothing’s exploded or even combusted around them for, oh, a good couple of hours.

“Huh,” Ryan says, and lets Jeremy drag him towards trouble.

========

So here’s the thing, right.

The two of them, they’re doing alright for themselves these days.

The agency’s one of those bad memories behind them they don’t have to worry about anymore thanks to a judicious application of explosives and planing and petty vindictiveness. (Mostly the explosives.

They’re part of a crew that doesn’t want them want to claw their own skin off, might even feel like family. (The stupidly annoying kind you’d do just about anything for, but would be a mistake to let certain members know because they’d never hear the end of it, but there you go.)

High up enough in the food chain here in Los Santos without their status in the crew they could get by just fine if things ever fell apart. (Unlikely as that is.)

So why, Ryan wonders, why is he losing his goddamned mind over an amusement park game booth?

Ridiculous little pellet gun in his hands and the faces of horrendously drawn clowns laughing at him as he fails to hit a single bullseye even though he’s a damn good marksman. Hell of a sniper, even if he’s gotten a little rusty over the years with Jeremy on overwatch while he gets up close and personal, uses his size and reputation for maximum effect.

The booth operator is a bored looking teenager with this tiniest of tiny smirks tugging at the corner of her mouth and obviously laughing at Ryan and his repeated failure to win the grand prize.

A whole stack of consolation tickets and one or two low-level monstrosities meant to be some form of adorable animal, but no luck with the giant purple and orange abomination Jeremy had eyed before moving on. Or trying to, before he realized Ryan had forked over money trying to win it for him. And failed and failed and failed.

Ryan shouldn’t even care about it this much, he knows that.

They’re hardened criminal types now, and battle-weary spec ops operatives loaned out to some hush-hush secret agency before then. No room in their lives for sentiment or nostalgia and all that because those were weaknesses they didn’t need.

Jeremy had done the smart thing, passing the stupid little stuffed animal by, but Ryan?

Stupid, idiot Ryan had noticed the little flicker of a smile on Jeremy's face, some bit of childhood nostalgia or something else, and in all his infinite stupidity decided he’d give winning it a try because why the hell not?

They’d sacrificed enough to get where they are, and something frivolous like this was more than deserved.

All Ryan had to do was hit the bullseye on all the targets in a set amount of time and the damn stuffed dragon was theirs – Jeremy’s, whatever.

Seemed simple enough, which should have been a warning sign.

“Son of a bitch,” Ryan hisses, and sets down more money for another go at the stupid targets in front of him.

Jeremy’s not quite at the point of laughing at him, but the asshole’s certainly enjoying Ryan’s complete failure to win this game.

Stupid goddamned rigged game.

Ryan was one of the agency’s best marksmen, had all these certificates and cute little trophies from “friendly” competitions – and all that to back it up. (Not to mention the carefully redacted files and trail of bodies that set of skills netted him.)

He’s up there when it comes to snipers you can find in Los Santos – maybe not as good as Ray, but then again who is anymore – but he can hold his own.

And yet somehow he’s finding it nigh impossible to shoot a goddamned clown in the goddamned nose.

Nightmarish renditions of the things painted on wood and laughing at him every time he clips the outer ring around them.

“Ryan,” Jeremy says, the way he does when the situation has spun out wildly out of control in a manner that isn’t exactly life-threatening but still the kind of disaster where Ryan just wants to set the world on fire. “Oh my God, Ryan.”

Ryan glares at Jeremy because that’s not helpful, and – still laughing it up – Jeremy takes the toy gun from him and takes a turn.

Hits the bullseye every damn time even though his aim’s sure to be off with the way he’s still giggling like an idiot.

Grins up at Ryan as he shoves the stuffed dragon in his hands and a moment later gasps in overblown surprise at the sight of it in all its tacky glory.

“Oh, Ryan,” he says, hands on his face like that kid from that one movie, look of surprise and utter delight on his face. “You shouldn’t have!”

The feigned surprise and soft joy is ruined by the giggling he can’t seem to stop, but when he takes the dragon from Ryan and leans up for a quick kiss to his cheek, it’s a little more tolerable.

Okay, a lot, because Jeremy is happy, even if it’s at Ryan’s expense.

All bright joy and clear laughter and Ryan’s heart does this little flip in his chest because it’s been a long, long time since they’ve had the luxury for either and he intends to hold on to it as long as he can.

#jeremwood #ragehappy #battle buddies #Kings of Nowhere #vagrant fic #Anon #Prompt Fills

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qvill-s · 5 years

Note

Hiiii! May I request for M!grima robin?? Angst ask no. 11 and 17 combined please I need something to fuel my angst needs :") thanks in advance

NOTES: angst for my dragon boy ??? absolutely !!!

WARNINGS: injuries; kidnapping

WORD COUNT: 1.7k

m! grima + “nobody’s seen you in days” &&. “if you don’t hug me right now I think I might fall apart” under the cut !!!

Grima can’t help but feel a little proud of himself as he returns triumphant from the solo mission you sent him on. It was long and hard, and at times a little trying, but he managed. After all, you were the one who told him that you couldn’t entrust this task to anyone other than him. Thus, armed with the memory of your words and your hands on his shoulders and the determination and trust in your gaze, how could he possibly fail?

Where he expects your smile and your warmth and your praise, he finds only the Order of Heroes in a state of panic and the loss of your presence in the halls.

Immediately noting that something was off, he confronts Commander Anna, a soft hiss of your name punctuating his unasked question. Where is the Summoner?

She shakes her head, looking more haggard than he’s ever seen her, replying with, “Nobody’s seen the Summoner in days.”

It’s strange to see the Fell Dragon so agitated over another’s life, much less the life of the insolent worm who summoned him here and disrupted the chaos he was creating in another world. Though Grima tried as hard as he could to continue to hate you, to loathe you for bringing him here, he very quickly failed in the face of your kindness and genuine concern and how easily you accepted who he was despite of all he’s done and destroyed.

(“If Breidablik says you’re a Hero, then that’s good enough for me,” you announced when he was summoned, your tone holding a certain sense of finality that said that that was the end of the conversation.)

Naturally, of course, he draped himself all over you. You were his prey, after all; his and his alone. There was never a moment since he was summoned that he wasn’t by your side. He was with you when you oversaw the training for the Heroes and went over the Order’s inventory. He accompanied you when you summoned new Heroes to join Askr’s cause, scowling at the new additions all the while (his scowl was particularly nasty when you summoned a wielder of the Falchion). He sat in tactic meetings even though they bored him to no end, but secretly, the small part of Robin still left in him delighted in these meetings, and Grima would often end up offering a particularly clever maneuver that had you sending a bright smile his way.

The one time you needed him, however, the one time he could’ve protected you, he wasn’t there.

Suddenly, an overwhelming anger fills his body. There’s an ache that builds up in his chest, strangling his lungs and his words, right where his shriveled heart should be. He swallows the growing lump in his throat, ignoring the pain and ignoring the ache, as he snarls, “You better find the Summoner, Commander, before I end that worthless life of yours.”

Anna looks unfazed as she nods tiredly. That was not the first threat she’s received since you’ve gone missing, and frankly, it wasn’t the worst.

With a harsh exhale of breath, Grima turns on his heel and seeks solitude in the place where your scent is the strongest—your room.

He lets himself in with the key that you gave him not so long ago—“Just in case you get lonely,” you told him playfully—and the pain in his chest increases as he’s hit with you and how you’re no longer beside him. He staggers over to your bed, sinking down into the plush covers and clutching a hand over his chest.

As he looks around, he sees phantoms of you hovering around your room. There’s you sitting at the desk by your window, turning to see if he was still listening to you talk about your stupid problems and concerns (as if he could be troubled with hearing them). There’s you huddled under the blanket beside him, having taken a nap after he forced you to. There’s you looking out of the window and into the world, watching the sunset, highlighted by the orange glow of the sun, or watching the stars, the constellations imprinting themselves into the color of your eyes. He sees you sitting beside him in the light of the moon, watching the moonlight caress your features as if it, too, were fascinated by you and the curve of your cheek or the quirk of your lips.

The ache in his chest multiplies tenfold at the sight of your ghosts flitting about your room, the forms of you he can’t touch and can’t talk to, and he can’t help but feel the slightest bit annoyed with his annoyingly human body. He’s the Fell Dragon, the destroyer of Ylisse and the cruel master of destiny. He is able to strike fear into the hearts of men and erase futures in a single blow.

But here he is, unable to cope with the loss of the presence of one measly, mortal life. He even feels a pressure behind his eyes, and he paws angrily at his closed lids. He should be happy that you’re gone, should be happy that you’re no longer there to command him, to tell him what to do, to control him with your stupid divine weapon, and yet…

Why does he feel so alone?

He sags even further into himself. Curse this weak, human vessel. Curse the emotions it makes him feel, the wrenches and tugs and pulls at his heart, the single tear that manages to slip through his iron will and streak down his cheek.

Suddenly, he feels a ghost of a touch across his shoulders and a whisper of a voice—your voice—

Come and find me, you tell him, cupping his face between your palms, come bring me home.

He wipes savagely at the tracks his (wretched, weak) tears left, and nods to himself.

I will.

❛ ━━━━━━━━━･❪ ❀ ❫ ･━━━━━━━━━ ❜

It takes Grima less than a day to find you again, following the dredges of you that linger in the air and all around him. Your perfume here, strands of your hair there, and once, a splatter of your blood against the trunk of a tree.

(The latter made him livid—the thought of another harming his human, enough to make them bleed—and he’ll make sure to return the favor.)

He finds you in an abandoned watch tower a long ways away from the castle. Quite honestly, he almost missed it, with how well it was hidden into the forest and blended in with the trees, had it not been for the waves of your scent emanating from it.

He doesn’t bother with stealth, with quiet, with finding cover, because he plans on taking them all.

He busts down the hidden door to the place, startling the petty criminals that litter the area and interrupting their plans of what to do with you. Once every eye has turned to watch him, his mouth curls into a smirk, flashing the barest hint of his teeth. “Did you worms really think that this would work out?”

He gives them a moment to think it over.

Then, the real fun begins.

❛ ━━━━━━━━━･❪ ❀ ❫ ･━━━━━━━━━ ❜

Your unconscious form lies in a room just up the steps. Some of your hair is matted with blood, sticking to the wound on your forehead that disappears into your hairline. Your wrists and ankles are raw and angry from the ropes that dug into your skin. He growls, ready to turn back to the corpses that decorate the other room, livid and ready to tear them apart piece by piece when—

“… grima…?”

Your lashes flutter against your cheek as you force your tired eyes to open and see him, framed by the wooden doorway and darkened by the early dredges of sunlight shining behind him. He stands, frozen in place, fists clenched, and covered in blood.

You cough, trying to free your voice from the confines of your scratchy throat. “G-grima, is that… is that you?”

Your voice is barely a whisper, but he can hear you loud and clear over the pounding blood racing in his ears. He crosses the room in a heartbeat, kneeling in front of you, tearing through the ropes and setting you free. You look at him like you can’t believe he’s here, that he’s come to save you, that he took the time to find you, and he feels the words stab through his heart.

You repeat his name again, feeble and wobbly, stretching your now free hands to cup his face. Once the tips of your fingers brush his skin, once your hands follow the curve of his jaw, you burst into silent tears.

Grima doesn’t ask if you’re alright, if you’re okay, because even a complete idiot could tell that you weren’t. Instead, he lets you cry, watching as the tears stream down your face and wanting to wipe them away. He doesn’t know how to be gentle, and the Robin side of him—is there even a difference between the two anymore?—is terrified of hurting you any further.

You’re the first to break the silence, to fill the quiet with your voice.

“Can… can I have a hug…?” You ask him wetly, speaking through the tears that line your face and the inside of your throat.

He startles. The “What?” that leaves his lips sounds harsher than he intended, and you flinch, drawing your touch away from him. He misses it immediately. He wants to capture your fleeting fingers and place them back to where they were before, please don’t go—

“I-if you don’t hug me right now, I t-think I’ll fall apart…” Your voice sounds even smaller than before as you draw your knees to your chest and wrap your arms around them. He hears the silent plea in your confession, the I need someone to keep me together that comes from your words.

Carefully, slowly, he wraps his arms around your shaking form, one hand against your back and the other under your knees, lifting you up into his arms. He holds you a bit tighter than necessary, but you don’t seem to mind, because your tears fall with renewed vigor and you throw your arms around his neck, tucking your face into the crook of his shoulder.

He doesn’t know how to be gentle, he admits, but he thinks he can learn for you.

#fire emblem #fire emblem heroes #fe #fire emblem imagines #fe imagines #fire emblem grima #fe grima #reader insert #(do i tag this as grima or robin ?? or both ???)#i like to make him feel dumb human emotions tee hee #@grima i love you you dumb bitch #hoo boy this is long sorry #no editing we die like men

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drink-n-watch · 4 years

Text

These opening paragraphs are always the hardest part for me. Once you get into the review you can weave your thoughts through a recap of the episode and everything falls into place. Here, I have to come up with something all on my own. It’s a little intimidating. Thankfully, I can always count on my esteemed collaborator. Hi Matt, how are you?

Too much pressure, Irina! I’m fine, hope you’re well too and all our readers as well.

Actually, before we fall into it, how pumped were you to see Yayoi? Cause I was mega super pumped. I always loved Yayoi and she looked amazing with her hair down. I gotta say, season 2 must have been something. Everyone seems to have had some sort of happy ending, whereas to me, Psycho Pass had always ended on a rather bleak note with most of the cast scattered and/or hopeless but the system intact.

But I digress. Yayoi!

Yeah she’s pretty cool, I guess… Nah, you’re right, it was great to have her back!

So Yayoi is back because reasons and she’s going to help our ragtag team of law enforcement officers while looking mighty fine indeed. We find out that some organisation, possibly to do with Enomiya is smuggling criminals in as dead bodies since the cryo sleep hides their hues. I really liked the idea although considering the rest of the episode, I’m still a bit fuzzy on the necessity of this. Seems risky, complicated and expensive when aggressive body guard robots are available. I honestly missed the set up here, Matt, can you help me fill in the blanks?

Maybe it’s cheaper to get humans to act as muscle than it is to build and program a bodyguard robot. The robot did seem pretty useless aside from being able to take a beating, not very nimble and not very smart either.

Smuggling and paying humans is definitely not cheaper, but just as useless!

Right off the bat, and throughout the episode, the enforcers had a pretty strong presence. It wasn’t just a Kei and Arata two man show (I mean technically Kei is still suspended so it can’t be). I really like how they are slowly and organically developing the supporting cast. I hope they keep at it, I feel like a strong ensemble can really elevate the series.

I agree, the more they keep building the ensemble cast the tougher it’s going to be when one of them dies (I mean it’s bound to happen sooner or later right?)

We are back in the heat of the political race only this time, it seems it’s Karina’s turn to be worried. After a visit to the late Dr. Tsuchiya’s office, Arata learns Karina’s secret, that she’s been using a hologram AI to help her during public appearances – a bit like lip syncing her campaign, and it seems someone out there wants that secret to be revealed and is not afraid to use underhanded means.

It’s an interesting way to use AI, though you gotta wonder how much of it really had a point, seems like having an AI feeding you a speech through an earpiece would be a lot easier and less open to be discovered and achieve pretty much the same results.

I have to say, I find the AI’s name “Ma-Karina” kind of hilarious. Possibly cause I’m 4 and just started singing the Macarena every time I heard it! Also, the necklace that Karina uses as a switch for Ma-Karina was very pretty. It sort of reminded me of Griffith’s Egg of the King, and considering both their significance in the story, the symbolic parallels are pretty cool.

I laughed at that too, we’re both children, apparently!

With the reveal of Tsuchiya’s personal AI and his involvement with Ma-Karina, we got even more neuroscience speak. Such as the relative metabolic need of the human brain and a short lesson on decision fatigue. Arata even mentions that humans aren’t great at thinking which is not completely false. We do tend to find every shortcut possible to reduce our decision making whenever viable and we fall back a lot on things like pattern recognition. This must affect our hues! It really does seem like season 3 is trying to weave in a bit of neurology through.

I absolutely love it but it’s not for everyone. Matt, you mentioned last week that to you this element felt tacked on and stand offish, do you still feel that way or do you think it was better integrated this week.

It was fine, there was almost too much else going on for me to really focus on it one way or another.

I’m o.k. with Kei’s roguish actions. He comes off a bit like a hard nosed cop trope in an action movie but I kind of like it. Once again, despite his suspension, Kei seems to be in the heart of the action. Going to watch Karina’s speech and calling in a potential disturbance. This means he’s right there when Karina gets kidnapped by…guys… And I mean right there. Like he swoops in to punch a guy out of nowhere when everyone else seemingly disappeared. To me Kei’s presence and interventions this week were just a bit too convenient. Ok Matt, tell me why I’m wrong.

Most of the action in this episode kind of felt a bit flat for me, from the staging to certain conveniences in how our ‘heroes’ were able to be where they were and do the things they do. It almost felt a bit Hollywood action-y, like it was less about the logic and more about the spectacle and even then the spectacle wasn’t that spectacular.

All of this is happening is some large event venue, a stadium of some sort, where the candidates were having a televised debate. Yakusiji got in a fight with one of the abductors and we didn’t see what happened to him while Karine got dragged off into another part of the stadium where the baddies are trying to force her to make a televised confession for the use of Ma-Karina. She refuses and her manager somehow bursts in, closely followed by Kei. Meanwhile the rest of our heroes have arrived and are making their way through the place.

And Yayoi is wearing stilettos! This may seem like petty nit picking but as a girl who wears high heels just about every single day, and pretty high ones at that, I know that you only wear stilettos if you want to look good and not necessarily move at all. In fact not even stand for too long. Those things hurt! Yayoi never ceases to amaze.

If anime has taught me anything it’s that women can wear anything–no matter how impractical–and still pull off amazing feats, make of that statement what you will feminists!

Anyways, stuff happens. Karina tries to escape and ends up on some high walkways being chased by this huge thing. Arata finds her somehow, and saves her at the last minute. Also Kei and the enforcers are there. Everyone’s fighting. The big guy turns out to be a robot. Enomiya’s robot bodyguard to be exact and I’m really wondering why they didn’t just use him instead of smuggling people. And then the good guys win, hurray!

Karina is saved and although her secret was in fact revealed she held on to her pride and didn’t make any sort of public confirmation. Meanwhile it turns out Yakusiji is just fine and he knows what’s going on but unfortunately he only told the officers and not the audience.

I believe the plan was to simply discredit Karina by leeking the existance of her AI to the public but I’m not sure why it had to be done via kidnapping during a televised speech. I guess the idea was that she would then lose the election and considering Enomiya’s part in everything and their connection to Heracles I suppose we could imagine they wanted him to win? I’m really not sure about any of this though. It’s mostly assumption. This part was a bit messy to me. I’m sorry Matt, I’m going to need your help again.

… I don’t know either, this entire middle section felt like a lot of things happening where nobody (not even the characters in the show themselves) knew why things were happening or who was really responsible but at the same time they didn’t seem to mind and just kind of got on with their days? It’s entirely possible we both missed something obvious and we’re just big dummies–I’m sure the comments section will tell us…

After the plot gets foiled Enomiya wisely decides it’s time to make themselves scarce and attempts an escape but is stopped by Azusawa. Now the Enomiya has outlived their usefulness, they have become a liability and Azusawa is there to tie up loose ends. I thought this guy was a hacker or something but it seems I’m way off. He’s an inspector so I guess it does make sense that he would be in good shape but I didn’t expect him to just easily beat the all time champion like it was nothing.

Well the impression I got was that Enomiya had been out of the game a while and was just using their status to intimidate people, obviously still capable of throwing down when needing to, but not when faced with someone with considerable strength and dexterity of their own.

To be honest, I really didn’t bond with Enomiya at all. I just didn’t care about the character at this point so to me this part was a bit long. I would have been happy if they just dealt with it off camera and gave us the jist in some tidy little exposition blast. Maybe have Arata read it off an incident report. I would have preferred to see more of the Division 1 crew instead. Did you like it Matt?

I mean, it was fine, I absolutely understand why this series of scenes was here, we were given enough of an introduction to them in the previous episode that killing them off screen kind of would have been like “then what was the point of all that?” so in that respect I didn’t have any problems with it. But I can understand where you’re coming from, I feel like if this show was 23 minutes instead of double that having it resolved as an incident report would have been fine and a way to save screentime but considering how long these episodes are it felt ~somewhat~ necessary.

I personally disagree. Just because an episode is longer doesn’t mean otherwise irrelevant scenes suddenly become necessary.

And the, the election is over. Just like that. 5 second scene… I was all like whaaaaaa. But…huh…. Karina won by the way. No one cared that she was using a fake brain.

That didn’t bother me either, but I kind of liked how quickly they dealt with it, it’s kind of like how real politics feel all this build-up in the campaign that all ends with some numbers on a screen and someone new being in charge that doesn’t really change all that much in the grand scheme of things. The pointlessness of democracy in a peaceful society.

Obviously Bifrost was actually behind all this but why? Not sure. As far as I can tell it wasn’t to influence the outcome of the election. There were way easier ways to do it and Karina was likely to win anyways so they could have just done nothing. The main and possibly only goal was to not only reveal the existence of Ma-Karina but also show that it didn’t matter. I wonder where this is going. Or am I off track again? Not gonna lie, I had some trouble following this episode.

Bifrost to me is just a bunch of super powerful, super wealthy people pulling the strings on a level so incomprehensible to the layperson that they might as well be gods. Seems like they’re ‘betting’ on the outcomes of various things for their own benefits–and playing with the lives of the people in this city like they are poker chips on a board. It’s intentionally vague and oblique–at least that’s how I take it.

Also Kei isn’t in trouble cause the chief sneaky ended his suspension 5 minutes before he got involved in the case and didn’t tell anyone.

One thing I really did like is that Arata and Kei have very compatibility according to Sybil (and with their background it makes sense) but they decided to partner up anyways. Their relationship really does continue to be the strongest part of the show for me.

Any closing thoughts?

You only went and missed my favourite part of the episode! The conversation between Arata and Karina in the glass ferris wheel was fantastic, small moments like this as supremely smart people–one in a position of newfound power–confines in another about things like their own nature and what politics really means in a world like this was great. I couldn’t help but feel a strong sense of intimacy between these two, which makes sense since in Episode 2 Arata compared her to himself in saying they were so much alike. I’m calling a romance subplot already! Also the colour and lighting in the scene was stunning, hey look Irina I mentioned the colour of a scene in an anime, are you proud of me?!

Yeah – I almost fast forwarded through that. My least favourite part of the show so far. The colours were a good clash to the colour story so far but all in all rather uninteresting. If there is a romance subplot, I’m not sure I’ll stick it out with this show.

I honestly didn’t like this episode much. The action was a touch drawn out, a lot of scenes seemed a bit contrived and the pacing was off, stretching certain moments past my interest and condensing others into confusion. This said, as I mentioned, I did get a bit lost a few times so it really may just be a me problem. I also don’t particularly like the softening of Karina’s character. I thought she was an invigorating antagonist that could have created some fantastic conflict .

I never really saw her as an antagonist really (maybe in the first episode she appeared) she seemed to fall somewhere in between. I thought this episode was great, weakest of the four so far thanks to the middling middle section which stretched credulity and my patience but still you could do far worse so I’m still happy!

This said, I still didn’t find the show too long despite double length and was (and remain) really interested in the overall story and what exactly is going on here. I’m looking forward to next week.

Psycho Pass s3 ep4 – Election These opening paragraphs are always the hardest part for me. Once you get into the review you can weave your thoughts through a recap of the episode and everything falls into place.

#action #anime #Collab #crime #drama #Psycho Pass #sci fi

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tangledcassandra · 5 years

Text

Over My Head

Title: Over My Head

Description: Cassandra thought she was hiding her feelings for Rapunzel pretty well, until Eugene Fitzherjerk called her out.

[Read on AO3]

"Admit it! You like my girlfriend."

Eugene and Cassandra found themselves at the campsite while the others explored or gathered supplies. It was a rare occurrence for the two of them to be left alone together, but that's exactly what had happened today. Of course, friendly banter quickly ensued, which turned into petty insults, which led to a final surprising blow by Eugene. Quick-witted as always, Cassandra was ready to counter.

"It is AMAZING how wrong you are," she rolled her eyes, leaning up against the wagon as she folded her arms across her chest.

"So, you think nobody has noticed the way you look at her?" Eugene glanced up from where he was checking the condition of one of the wheels.

"I do not look at her!"

"You've never looked at her before?"

"Well, of course I've looked at her. I'm literally her lady-in-waiting. I have to look at her."

"You have to, but you don't want to?"

"I want to. I can. I'm allowed."

"But you don't like her?"

"I like her!"

"Mhmm."

"As a friend."

"This conversation is going splendidly."

"This conversation is over," Cassandra turned, intending to stride off into the woods.

"Not until you admit you're in love," Eugene yelled after her.

That sent Cassandra scrambling back, hissing through her teeth, "I don't do 'love.'"

"So, I should tell Rapunzel you don't love her?"

"No! You should. Not. Do that."

"Because you love her?"

"I can love her without being in love with her."

"But you are in love with her."

"Did not say that."

"Not with your words, but your actions scream it."

Cassandra glanced around to make sure no one else was within earshot, before she responded, "Is it that obvious?"

Eugene chuckled, standing and leaning casually against their vehicle. "Well, for a person like Rapunzel, who hasn't had a lot of social experience, probably not. For me, someone who has charmed and been charmed by many a lass, yes, it is very obvious."

"Great. Well, I'm sure you'll have fun hanging this over my head for the rest of my life."

"Why?"

"Haha, why?" Cassandra scoffed, throwing her hands in the air. "Why, he asks! Okay, fine. Milk it. Because you win this one. You got the girl. You had her long before I came into the picture. I fell for someone who was already practically engaged, and I knew it the whole time. I left my home and my dad and the safety of Corona so I could travel the world with this girl. I've made sacrifices to protect her. Knowing all along there's no way in hell we can ever be together. Making goo-goo eyes every time she isn't looking. Being really, truly, stupid."

"Wow, you sure know how to pick 'em."

"Tch, yeah," she covered her face with her hand.

Eugene blew a puff of air from his mouth as he ran a hand through his hair. "It's not really that stupid. She is an amazing girl and I am so lucky to have found her. Some days, I don't even feel like I deserve her. You know? I may be reformed, but this trip has reminded me I'm still a wanted criminal in most cities. Just because Corona pardoned me doesn't make my past go away. All the things I did, I can't take them back. I ask myself, wouldn't she be better off with someone who grew up honestly? Someone she wouldn't have to worry about being arrested, or worse? I double-crossed a lot of royalty, true, but I double-crossed a lot of other thieves and criminals as well. Several people are still out for my blood."

"Is this supposed to make me feel better?" Cassandra deadpanned.

"I guess spouting my life story isn't exactly comforting."

"You think?"

"Okay, so trying to reassure you isn't exactly my strong suit. But you're going to tell her now, right? Because you know how terrible I am with secrets."

"Eugene!"

"I'm serious!"

"I haven't told her in nearly two years and I'm not about to spill my guts out now. Especially when we're going to be cooped up together for who knows how many more weeks."

"As soon as she so much as looks at me she's going to know I know something and she's going to get it out of me."

"Ugh, master thief and city's formally most wanted criminal and he can't even tell a lie."

"That's why I work with my hands, not my lips."

"Do you know how many filthy jokes I could make with that statement if I were not too busy internally freaking out?"

"I walked into that one," Eugene chuckled, trying to lighten the mood. "But she should hear how you feel from you, and not me."

"Not going to happen."

"It would probably make you both feel better to get things out in the open."

"Uuugghhhh this is YOUR fault!" Cassandra accusingly shoved her pointer finger into his chest.

"It's my fault you're in love with her?"

"Stop saying that out loud! And it IS your fault you brought it up in the first place!"

"Well maybe you shouldn't have insulted my-"

"Fine. I'll talk to her, or whatever," Cassandra hoisted herself up to the drivers seat so she could keep watch for the others returning.

Eugene climbed up the other side to join her, keeping space between them. "Well, before you do that, let's you and I talk about one more thing."

"Great, more talking."

"Like the smooth sound of my voice doesn't lull you into a tranquil calmness," he threw a smolder in her direction, well aware it wouldn't have any effect.

"It doesn't."

"Okay, so," he tapped his fingers against his knees as he carefully considered his next words, "it's not like I never dated more than one girl at once. Of course, in my case, they didn't exactly know-"

"Ah buh-buh-buh, do not need to know this!" Cassandra gave him an absolutely disgusted look.

"Right, well, the point is, these are changing times and since I am a reformed thief, I know how to share, rather than horde things- or people- for myself."

"Good for you."

"Rapunzel is her own person and she should decide who she wants to be with. Even if it's both of us."

"Both of us?"

"Yeah, you know, she dates me, and she also dates you, and we all mutually know about it."

"Pass."

"Cassandra, come on. I know I'm not always the nicest to you, and vice versa. But I have seen the way you look at her. You don't look at anyone else the same way. With "goo-goo eyes-", he created air quotes with his fingers, "-your words, not mine. You clearly have a lot of deep feelings for her, and I think if she knew, she'd probably reciprocate. Even if I can't stand you, Blondie always manages to. You, with your cute nicknames and your solo adventures. She definitely has a soft spot for you as well. I love being with her and spending time with her, but in all honesty I'm ready to settle down. Give up the adventuring life. I couldn't let her go on this life-altering journey alone, but when it's over, I want to be done. But you, you've still got enough wanderlust to match hers. That could really work in our favor if we were both to be romantically involved with her. You two could travel the world together. I'd know she was safe and taken care of. And I wouldn't have to worry about something going on between you two because I'd already know."

"I've got to admit, I thought you were messing with me. But you're actually serious," Cassandra paused, weighing her options. "Wait, did you worry something was going on between Raps and I?"

"The thought crossed my mind, but I'd hoped if there was you two would be able to tell me. Seems like I was wrong."

"Well, you don't have to worry. It's completely one-sided."

"Maybe it doesn't have to be. Rapunzel is a wonderful woman and I can see why you fell for her. I can't imagine what it would be like to be locked up for nearly 20 years. I've done time in prison. I always managed to escape, but… it's not pleasant. A child shouldn't have to go through that. But she did. She survived what would have been torture for most people. And now, she deserves to be happy. Anything and everything she wants, she should have. I'm sure you feel the same way. "

"Why do you think I haven't said anything to her? I'm not about to mess up her happy life with you by pouring out my heart to her."

"I can't make you talk about your feelings, but I think if you did, everything would work out. For all of us. I just wanted you to know that it's okay with me if you tell her."

"It's tempting. But what if my confession screws up what you have with her?"

"It's a risk I'm willing to take. I figured it was only a matter of time before you told her or she found out, but it seems your resolve is stronger than I thought. So, I've been ready for things to change. For things to progress between you two. I mean I can't say whether or not Rapunzel is interested in you in that way, but if she is-"

"I get it."

"That's part of why I'm even proposing something like this. I know you care for her just as much as I do. And I believe she has enough love in her heart for the both of us. She looks at you with a certain fondness, too. I can't make the decision for her, but maybe if she knew how you feel, she'd realize some things about herself. Maybe she didn't even consider the possibility of you because she knows she's already with me."

"You really think we can all make this work?"

"I'm willing to give it a try."

"I'll think about it, Eugene. No matter how I feel, she's still WAY out of my league."

"Out of YOUR league? At least you grew up being raised by a royal guard. Your reputation is in WAY better shape than mine!"

"Yeah, I guess when it comes to being a respectable citizen, I've got you beat."

"Too bad you do not have my rugged good looks."

"Oh, I am so glad not to have a face like yours."

"Like you could pull off a beard."

"Do you think you're pulling it off?"

"All the ladies love it, so yes, I do."

"I'm a lady and I don't love it."

"You barely count as a lady."

"Why? Because I'm more manly than you?"

"As if! How much can you even lift, like 50 pounds?"

"Plus 200."

"Excuse me?"

"Yeah, I can bench like two of your girlfriend, no sweat."

"Yeah, well," Eugene grumpily folded his arms across his chest, "I am still more athletic."

"You barely passed guard training!"

"I am still more handy with a sword!"

"You think you could beat the captain of the guard's daughter in a swordfight?

"Okay, scratch that one, but given my previous track record I can probably run faster than you."

"My chances with Raps are starting to look better and better."

"Speed is my forte and it would give me the upper hand in a wrestling match, I guarantee it!"

"Is that a challenge?" Cassandra grinned mischievously.

"Wh- no!"

Too late, she leaped across the seat and pushed Eugene off the wagon, just in time for Rapunzel and the others to come walking into the clearing.

"Cassandra! Eugene!" Rapunzel helped her boyfriend to his feet as he dusted himself off. "Did you two just fight the whole time we were gone?"

The pair shared a glance, before answering in unison.

"Yes."

"Absolutely."

Rapunzel sighed, smiling as she gave Eugene a hug and a peck on the cheek, before she reached up and clasped one of Cassandra's hands in her own. "Well, nobody got hurt, and we got back before you ended up in an all out brawl," she headed to the rear of the wagon to help load in supplies. "We should get back on the road."

"Sure thing, Blondie."

"Got it, Raps."

Eugene started to follow, but Cassandra stopped him.

"Hey, Eugene?"

He turned, shooting her a curious glance.

Thank you, she mouthed, wary of anyone hearing her being nice to Eugene, and especially cautious of Rapunzel finding out about their conversation.

He nodded, before heading back to join the others, as Cassandra prepared the horses and double-checked the condition of their vehicle. They still had a long road ahead, and Cassandra had a lot more to think about.

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#Tangled the Series #Cassunzel #Cassandra #Rapunzel #Tangled #Fanfiction #home brew

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