#but also that i stopped naming/differentiating the races so much
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All Fics Extra #6: Races
This is going to be a weird mix of reboot canon, original canon, fanon, and personal headcannon. I used to cover this partially in my AU Constants fic extra, but I wanted to make things clearer.
This is specific to my fics and not fact/correct, just worldbuilding I’ve done based on what the show provides us and general fanon. That said, some of these terms (or similar ones) are widely used across the fandom.
Note: I will use race and species somewhat interchangeably in this post. Race is a social construct that I think would form differently in a world with multiple sentient species, and also I feel weird using species a lot because it's such a scientific-feeling term to me.
Intro
Though we can get more information from show materials/Crew-ra, inside the show itself, species aren’t often named. Angella is immortal, Adora is a First One, there are humans, and everyone else on Etheria is indistinct. It isn’t even clear if First Ones and immortals are actually separate races from humans. It can be inferred that First Ones are in some way distinct as the Sword of Protection only responded to a First One, and thus likely relied on something similar to a DNA marker to identify them, but this is conjecture and it could have used some kind of magical signature.
ND stated (I don’t remember where for sure, but my instinct is to say the BLM livestream) that a history for Etheria that the crew came up with was that Etheria was a melting pot planet of various immigrant races. This can be seen in the show when Mara (via hologram in S3:EP3) says that “we [the First Ones] were the first ones to settle Etheria - to really study this planet’s magic.” Thus, the great diversity of sentient life on Etheria is likely due to many alien species arriving as explorers and settling there before the planet was put in Despondos by Mara. This means that a term like “Etherian” would be closer to a nationality than anything else.
There are species from other iterations of the franchise that have canonical names which can be extended to the reboot. Please check out this amazing chart that clarenecessities/birdindale put together to reference those. While the names here are researched and have canon sources, that’s not research most of the SPOP fandom has done, especially early on, so there are common fanon names for several species that developed. Many of us built on each others’ ideas to flesh out the world in writing. It’s easy to not mention a character’s race in a visual medium when you can see that they are a satyr, but in writing we usually need names.
Species/Races
Humans: (EX: Bow, most of the princesses, etc). Humans seem to be found in large congregations in Bright Moon, Plumeria, and the Kingdom of Snows. There are many characters that are “questionably” human as well, such as Glimmer (one of her parents is “immortal”, and thus she could be human or demi-mortal). I consider the princesses (and Adora/Mara) to be human in most AUs.
First Ones: (EX: Adora, Mara, etc). As discussed above, this could be distinct from the humans of the show, an ancestor race humans descended from, or merely the nationality for the humans that come from the First Ones’ homeworld. This homeworld is Eternia, and thus the term Eternian might be used instead of First One depending on the story.
Elves: (EX: Shadow Weaver, Entrapta’s busgirl, etc). Elves are seen mostly in the background. I state Hordak’s race as dark elf for fics where he isn’t a clone, though he looks the same. Dark elves are different from other elves due to having skintones in either monochromatic or blue/purple colors, which range in saturation from white to dark blue/black. They also generally have varying degrees photosensitivity, which is why Shadow Weaver wears a veil or mask to protect herself from burns even in modern AUs.
Hybrids: (EX: Catra, Scorpia, Rogelio, etc). Hybrid is a term that I believe originated with the fandom/fic writers. It describes the races in the show that don’t fall neatly into human or some other common fantasy species. These are the alien species that show both human and animal characteristics. Hybrids are commonly found in the Crimson Waste and the Fright Zone.
Magicats: (EX: Catra). Magicats are a named species from previous iterations of the franchise. In the original they resembled furry, anthro cats that walked both on hind legs and all fours, but in the reboot they are mostly-human in appearance but with the addition of fur, fangs, cat ears, and cat tails. They have various coat patterns/colors and some cat characteristics in personality and traits (examples from Catra in canon include: grooming her arm with her tongue, her tail reacting to her emotions, hissing, growling, purring, etc).
In the BLM charity stream, ND stated their headcannon is that magicats were an explorer race who came to visit Etheria, but that the magicats seen on Horde Prime’s screens are intended to be from the magicat homeworld. They are found in very limited numbers on Etheria (in fact, only two are seen on Etheria throughout the entire show that I could find - Catra and an unnamed background character in S5EP7 - with an additional two from the homeworld seen on the screens). There are other feline background characters that are visually distinct from Catra, however. These characters have cat-like head shapes and more closely resemble the magicats from the 80s original. Whether they are intended to be magicats as well (or related to them) is unclear.
Note: Catra was human in the original 80s show.
Scorpioni: (EX: Scorpia). Another highly-rare species as of the time of canon, though this is explained by the Horde’s base having been built on top of their conquered kingdom.
Lizardfolk: (EX: Rogelio, Tung Lashor, etc). I believe this is a term that originated with the fandom to describe the lizard hybrids in particular (I've also seen variants of it, such as lizardkin). Some lizardfolk seem incapable of human speech (Rogelio), or perhaps just don’t speak it as a first language, while others use the human tongue (Tung Lashor).
Finfolk: (EX: Octavia, Salineas background characters, etc). This is a term used to describe supernatural/magical creatures related to the sea IRL, and is an umbrella term I use to refer to any ocean-related hybrids such as Octavia or the many sea-based people of Salineas. I think they are canonically called Merfolk, but I leave that term to describe more strictly mermaid-based/sea-bound characters. Therefore Merfolk might be used to describe Mermista (I mean, she can literally turn into a mermaid) but it wouldn’t be used for Octavia since she primarily lives above ground and far from water.
Other Species/Terms
Krytian: (EX: Melog). We don't really have a name for Melog's race, so I just call them krytians, or perhaps more generically shapeshifters, but they are very distinct from say, whatever shapeshifting race DT is, so krytian works best.
Fae: We see what appear to be fairies, elves, satyrs, mermaids, etc in the background or in recurring cast characters. I don’t use this a lot, but it’s included here because some of the races we see could fall under it as an umbrella.
Orc: Apparently Huntara's race has a name (from Clare's chart), but I've always just called them orcs in my fics since it fits with their general look.
Satyrs: (EX: background characters, such as in Thaymor). Satyrs are definitely present in the world of Etheria, though I don’t know if any actually speak in the show. They are, of course, human-goat hybrids.
Moth hybrids: This is what I believe the leader of Elberon is supposed to be.
Bull hybrids: Seen in the Crimson Waste. See Clare’s chart for possible names. I believe taurus-based terms are used by furries for this kind of character? But that's coming from like, one tweet, I don't know shit about furries, so take that with a grain of salt.
Fairies: Again, this is what I think Flutterina is supposed to be (or maybe she’s some kind of butterfly hybrid, but clearly her race exists out in the world or the Alliance would have been more suspicious of her).
Canidae (Lycans/Vulpes): A term I’ve used before but decided not to really again because it caused confusion in the two fics where I did. These are the canid-based hybrids seen in the Crimson Waste (Lycans: dogs/wolves. Vulpes: foxes). Based off terms I think furries use once again, but I only asked one person.
Squamagica: (EX: Double Trouble). This term probably hasn't appeared (yet?) and I think is the main reason I drafted this fic extra a year ago and forgot about it, but I like what I came up with, so I'll leave it in. As said above, there are multiple shapeshifting races, so referring to DT’s race as simply that (even if it is what's used in canon) and nothing else isn't a perfect solution, especially for AUs where magic doesn't exist. In those AUs, they don't have full-on shapeshifting powers (some ability to manipulate their forms, maybe, but not total reformation), so I’ve settled on the name squamagica for them, based off squamate (the largest order of reptiles, which DT’s design seems inspired by) and the precedent from magicats. I think it sounds like something that could be from the franchise, but I just pulled it out of my ass and worry it would cause confusion once again, which is the main reason I haven't actually used it yet.
#fic extra#ficmeta#all fics#drafted SEPTEMBER 28 2021#yeah ive been sitting on this a long time#i actually had to copy it to a new post so i could turn off reblogs XD#the DT thing is the main reason i havent posted this#but also that i stopped naming/differentiating the races so much#so it felt kind of unnecessary to post anymore?#but a comment on an old fic reminded me the OLD stuff is still out there#so hopefully this helps clear it up and i do still stand by most of it#not all because clare's chart gave us more canon-based stuff for some things#but i'll keep using a lot of this and just supplement when needed
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neon signs | jealousy is a disease
title ; jealousy is a disease
pairing ; campus crush!yoongi x campus crush!you
notes ;
this is part of the neon signs drabble series, where drabbles are released in random order (but listed chronologically in the masterlist!)
series description ;
namjoon doesn’t think it can get any clearer outside of yoongi building a giant neon sign saying i have the absolute biggest crush on you but apparently, book smarts don’t exactly translate when it comes to you and your massive crush on min yoongi.
(alternatively: namjoon and hoseok try for three years straight to get you and yoongi together.)
word count ; 2.2k
tags ; yoongi is a simp, that’s all i have to say, pls go to masterlist for more / general tags
look, yoongi will never admit it. but whenever seokjin’s name comes out of your mouth, he has the oddest urge to abruptly switch subjects until seokjin is the farthest thing from your mind. you always brighten up when you talk about him, saying seokjin this and seokjin that and fine, the way your eyes light up is incredibly endearing and that’s great but how come it’s always jinnie said the funniest thing today and never yoongi you’re the funniest person i know, huh?
probably because yoongi is not the funniest person you know, and he’s pretty sure he never will be because yoongi is not exactly the class clown type. but he digresses.
you’re doing it again now, and yoongi thinks taking the differential equations midterm exam might actually have been better than this. yes, he’ll listen to anything you have to say at any given point in time but he’s never met this seokjin guy and it’s hard not to be miffed when he’s pretty sure you’ve never once looked at yoongi the way you look when you’re talking about jinniejin.
jinniejin. are we kidding?
(okay, yes, it’s kind of your thing. when you really want something out of namjoon you will also whip out the jooniejoon, though yoongi is maybe 98.3% certain that’s mostly because namjoon cringes really hard at it and will do just about anything to make you stop calling him that.)
(but also, quick question - when does yoongi get a cute nickname?)
“can he come tonight?” you ask, and yoongi immediately tunes back into the conversation. this sounds important, and not like a dissertation on how cute jin is when he’s eating like an alpaca.
“sure,” hoseok agrees easily, the fucking traitor. his best friend glances at him and grins. “it’ll be nice to meet this guy you never stop talking about, y/n.”
you wiggle in your seat, excited. “you’ll like him, i swear. he’s been really nice to me all semester.” your eyes fall to yoongi and he doesn’t have the heart not to smile back at you, not when you seem so eager for the boys and seokjin to meet. after all, seokjin is one of very few genuine friends you have outside of namjoon, hoseok, and yoongi, so that has to count for something. you met him at the beginning of the semester and have been enraptured since, much to yoongi’s dismay.
having gotten your dinner plans sorted out, you say your goodbyes, running off for class. yoongi watches forlornly as you go, dreading tonight.
.
.
.
the worst part about spring semester isn’t that you met seokjin. it’s that yoongi doesn’t share any classes with you.
it means he has no excuses to message you one-on-one, or see you at least once or twice a week. granted, hoseok usually solves that problem by dragging you all together for dinner or piling into his dorm room on the weekends, but still. it’s not the same. chinese class was his thing with you. only you.
now studying together is a group activity when yoongi would much prefer to be alone in a library room with you, sitting shoulder to shoulder, feeling his heart race whenever you giggle and lean in a little too close to point out his godawful penmanship.
he’s thinking about this because you’re leaning a little too close to seokjin right now, the prettiest smile on your face as you beam up at your friend. the five of you are crowded into a table at the local diner, you next to seokjin on one side while yoongi somehow got squished between namjoon and hoseok on the other. now he gets the prime view for watching you loop your arm around seokjin’s whenever you get excited, squeezing him tight.
do you do that with namjoon, too? hoseok? yoongi can’t remember.
you definitely don’t do that with yoongi, though. he would absolutely remember that.
the thing about being in the engineering department is that it makes yoongi incredibly analytical. or maybe that’s just an excuse for how yoongi is as a person. the moment you stepped through the diner door with jin on your arm, yoongi had assessed him from head to toe: tall. handsome. broad. seokjin had let you drag him forward as soon as you’d spotted your friends at the table, chuckling fondly when you’d tugged him along, legs long enough to easily keep pace with you even when you were practically skipping to the table.
the introductions were short, and since hoseok’s here, quick to descend into chaos. seokjin matches hoseok’s energy as if they’re lifelong friends yet pulls back to be gentle with you, and yoongi thinks he might develop a headache if he sees seokjin pat your head one more time.
by accident, he catches your eyes halfway through dinner. something in the way you look at yoongi feels hopeful, like you’re asking for his approval. between the three boys, yoongi has the hardest time making friends. hoseok and namjoon are both social butterflies in their own right; yoongi has nearly intentionally clipped his own wings in that regard. but you’re asking. when you look at him like that, you’re asking yoongi if he’ll be friends with seokjin. jinniejin.
how can he possibly say no?
.
.
.
see, seokjin is a nice guy, and yoongi hates that.
he can’t explain it. well he could, but he’d prefer not to.
at the least, seokjin only becomes a sort of floater in your group of four. he comes and goes - mostly whenever you ask him to - so for the most part seokjin is more your friend than a friend. (note that this is not yoongi’s fault. yoongi is playing nice.)
but it’s really hard not to resent how nice seokjin is because it means that yoongi has no valid reason to not point out that your apparent favorite person is heading your way, sending you flying out from your spot next to yoongi, across the grass to take a running leap right into seokjin’s arms.
yoongi feels like he might die. he can’t believe the trade-off to seeing you scream and giggle happily is the fact that seokjin is the one swinging you in circles, made even worse because yoongi can tell that doing that makes seokjin dizzy but seokjin seems willing to do anything to appease you with the things you want.
seokjin sets you back down on your feet and yoongi glares at hoseok. hoseok’s the one who said you and seokjin are ‘just friends’ and that you ‘don’t have a crush’ on your new friend. hoseok is a liar. look at you! look at how happy you are just to see him!
“don’t look at me like that,” hoseok whispers. “i know they’re close but it’s not like that.” he elbows namjoon. “tell yoongi it’s not like that.”
“it’s not,” namjoon shrugs. “they’re really just good friends. she says he takes care of her.”
boyfriends take care of their partners, yoongi wants to wail, but he keeps his mouth firmly shut, sucking his teeth. he keeps his head ducked but his eyes can’t stop glancing up to watch you talk animatedly to seokjin as you cross the courtyard together, seokjin patiently listening to you. he nods and hums along to everything you say, leans down a little to respond so you’re closer in height.
something he says makes you flush, and you shove at him lightly, your face doing that thing where it gets all scrunched up because you’re embarrassed. it happens a lot when namjoon puts his foot in his mouth when he’s talking about something that was supposed to be best-friend-restricted-information.
seokjin laughs loudly but seems to relent, rubbing your arm soothingly until you’re done pouting, and yoongi has to resist the urge to plant his face straight into the ground.
namjoon gives him a sympathetic smile.
lovely.
.
.
.
ever since yoongi met seokjin, it’s like he sees him everywhere. well - not everywhere. everywhere with you.
it’s not entirely abnormal for yoongi to bump into you on campus - between your shared minor and the university’s core curriculum requirements, there’s bound to be some overlap. but he swears he’s never seen you as often as he does now - side by side with none other than kim seokjin.
it has his heart dropping in his chest much harder than he’d care to admit. much worse is the fact that yoongi doesn’t seem to know how to act, so every time he catches sight of you and seokjin together, he dives behind literally any object large enough to hide him.
today, it’s some random statue decorating the campus grounds. he peeks past it, watching as you and seokjin head down the sidewalk, crossing towards one of the newer built academic buildings. he yelps when a hand clasps him on the shoulder, hoseok’s megaphone voice in his ear, “yoongi! what are you doi-”
yoongi shoves his hands against hoseok’s mouth and yanks him to the ground, head popping up to see if you noticed the commotion, but you’re at a much farther distance now, almost to the doors of the building. hoseok sputters and yanks yoongi’s hand off his mouth. “dude??”
yoongi winces. “sorry,” he mutters. hoseok shifts over to see what yoongi is hiding from, and sucks in a breath, shaking his head.
“jealousy is a disease, yoongi,” hoseok wags his finger at his friend. yoongi slaps his hand away.
“please stop talking so loud.”
“she can’t hear us! if i wanted her to hear us, i would crank it up, like, HEY-”
“i will knock you out swear to god hoseok-”
hoseok cackles, but it’s too late, because hoseok has an inhumane ability to project his voice across probably the entirety of campus. when yoongi glances back to see if you’ve gone into the building with seokjin, he finds instead to see your face lighting up, grin spreading across your lips as you ditch seokjin without so much as a warning to come running across the grass towards yoongi and hoseok.
except, you severely misgauge how fast you’re going, and tumble straight into yoongi (hoseok conveniently sidestepped) and yoongi stumbles back a few steps and instinctively grabs you around the waist to steady you, startled.
“oops,” you say breathlessly, eyes shining. for someone who wasn’t running, yoongi is also slightly out of breath. he manages a weak smile back that definitely makes it seem like he’s in pain, but you don’t notice as you gently pull away from him, yoongi’s hands slipping from your waist. “hi guys.”
“hello,” hoseok sings, slinging an arm around your shoulders. he swings you back around to face the direction you came from. “where’d seokjin go?”
“class, probably,” you answer. “i was looking for yoongi but i bumped into jin instead so i was walking him to class.”
yoongi blinks. “me?” he clears his throat so he can form a full sentence. “you were looking for me?”
you smile. “your class ended not long ago, right? near here?”
yoongi’s heart, which had been on the ground when he saw you with seokjin, jumps right back into his chest, bursting into a sprint. he nods, and points in the direction he came from.
your smile widens. “knew it. i thought i always saw you around here. i checked your schedule and everything earlier. we both end class at the same time but i’m over at james hall.” you point across at the building directly opposite from the one yoongi’s class is held in, but yoongi is still too focused on, i was looking for yoongi - you were looking for him. him. not seokjin.
“next time, let’s meet after class,” you’re saying, as you loop one arm against yoongi’s elbow, your other arm already around hoseok’s. “hobi, are you free?”
“nope,” hoseok slips out from your side, adjusting his backpack over his shoulder. “i’ve got class in ten.”
you shrug. “just me and yoongi then,” your hand remains wrapped around his elbow, and yoongi’s fingers curl inside his pocket, fighting the desire to slide his hand out and into yours. “unless you have plans, yoongs?”
yoongs. yoongi blinks. jinniejin, jooniejoon, hobi. yoongs.
you ditched seokjin for yoongi (you were looking for yoongi in the first place!), you have your hand on his arm, and yoongs. he finally gets a nickname.
when he takes too long to answer, hoseok fills in the gap for him before you can get too confused. “he never has plans,” hoseok grins. “i’ll catch y’all later.” he gives yoongi a look that says get your brain back in working order before he heads off, and you look up at yoongi, eyes sparkling, enrapturing.
“have you eaten, yoongi?”
technically he has. right before class. but it was small and light and that seems reasonable enough an excuse for him to shake his head, just so he can watch you beam at him and tug him along, rattling off about the new restaurant near the student center that you wanted to try, and when you say something along the lines of, “i’m glad i get to try it with you,” yoongi forgets seokjin was even in the picture to begin with, content simply to be trying new things and spending time with you.
series masterlist ; neon signs
taglist ; @thelilbutifulthings @bbsantc @chickentenderx
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Raina has always wanted more and it's a flaw. She knows it. Pretty flower dresses and control over her own life even at the expense of others control over their own. She doesn't regret any of it, but staring at her face in the mirror, covered in spines, and faced with Jiaying and Gordon's kindness and the reality that the powers of clairvoyance she always envied are more curse than gift - for the moment - and... she knows that right now, if her nightmares are to be avoided - her death is to be avoided - then she has to be willing to change. To unbend, just a little.
To concede control, just a little.
The people of Afterlife are not happy with Jiaying. She's too stingy about who gets powers, especially now that it's become so much easier to bestow them using the home grown crystals instead of the Diviners. While they all agree that Jiaying is right to screen candidates, she seems to favor those whose circumstances will make them intensely loyal to her. Gordon, Lincoln... and several others are more loyal to Jiaying than to the community. And they will follow Jiaying thoughtlessly into the destruction of their safe haven in Afterlife.
Still, Gordon is the key to stopping Jiaying. Or at least minimizing the damage she will commit. And when the crucial conversation happens, Raina has already seen what happens when she asks for power in Jiaying's place. So the conversation goes differently.
"It needs to be you," Raina tells Gordon. "If you meet with SHIELD's representative, there will be peace between our people and theirs. But Jiaying cannot differentiate between HYDRA and normal humans who aren't HYDRA anymore. And it's even worse with SHIELD. She'll tell herself she's doing the right thing and she'll knock over the dominoes that will lead to our people's destruction.
"She's not well and I know you've seen the hints of it for all she hides it impressively. But she needs help. Or she'll self destruct and take us all with her. This is the first step to saving her, to saving all of us. But you have to be willing to make it without her support. Or our people's blood will be on our all hands. Yours, mine, hers."
And Gordon doesn't take it well. Raina didn't expect him to.
But he can't unhear what he's heard and when Jiaying tells him her plan for SHIELD and the war she intends to kick off in the name of 'protecting' their people... he hates to realize that Raina may very well be right.
He talks to the elders. He tells them what's going on. And they order him to meet SHIELD, not Jiaying. He doesn't want to do this, to do what feels like betrayal to the woman who reached out to him in the dark and showed him he was still beautiful - that what he'd become was a gift. But his people have to come first.
He tells the others what the elders have decided and when Jiaying objects, he puts her in one of the rooms that only he can enter. But there isn't really any time for objections because SHIELD arrives.
Gordon and Gonzales are each expecting someone else, but they work it out, a preliminary truce. Gorden refuses to allow Inhumans to go on the Index. Their people police their own. But he also acknowledges that there have been instances where things have gone wrong and he's willing to work with SHIELD in times where one of their people goes rogue in a way they can't handle. But he needs SHIELD to acknowledge that the Inhuman community has been around for centuries and self regulated without SHIELD's notice until now. SHIELD is so busy being afraid of what ifs that they're allowing bigotry towards another race blind them to the harm they're committing to.
And Gonzales objects to being told his behavior has been bigoted, but... he hears himself. What he says here and now to Gordon, thinks about the things he's said about Agent Skye... and he can't really say Gordon's wrong either. They do have an undercurrent of prejudice at SHIELD towards powered people. And what if this is the lingering legacy of HYDRA's infiltration? He can't say for sure it isn't.
He agrees that, for now at least, it pushing for adding all Inhumans to the Index isn't the right move. And agrees that leaving a line of communication between Inhumans and SHIELD is a good start. SHIELD likes to catalogue and research and understand everything out of fear of what if scenarios but some things have to be taken on faith. Instead he asks for help reviewing their Index protocols. If the Inhumans will help with powered individuals who are struggling with their powers but not necessarily bad people. And keep SHIELD at least aware of where places like Afterlife are located so that, if at least nothing else, SHIELD can remain aware of where their main gathering places are to steer clear of them - and steer others clear of them too. It's an increasingly interconnected world with satellite imaging and GPS. Afterlife and places like it aren't going to stay hidden and safe for much longer as technology evolves. SHIELD can offer ways of keeping Inhuman communities like Afterlife hidden from everyone else that remote locations aren't enough for anymore.
Neither party leaves totally satisfied or with 100% of what they wanted. Gordon has to concede that with both HYDRA and SHIELD capable of tracking his powers, it's only a matter of time until other interested parties do the same. Or find other methods of tracking Inhumans and there certainly are plenty of organizations and governments that would love to control them. Gonzales has to reassess his own prejudices and recognize that maybe there's more to removing HYDRA's influence in SHIELD than just removing the bad agents.
It wasn't just SHIELD's secrets that let HYDRA do what it wanted, but the attitudes SHIELD cultivated of always being right and being better than everyone else. Maybe part of making things right and making their operations more transparent means allying with the leadership of the Inhuman community and accepting their self governance. Compromising where they can so that when the times comes to stand firm where they can't, they'll have allies willing to stand firm with them.
It's not a great start. But it is a start. And it changes everything.
Raina has never liked leaving the decisions to others, to standing back and letting her destiny lay in someone else's hands. She still means to take a position of power for herself one day, using her powers to carve out a place for herself amongst her fellow Inhumans. But she also knows she's too new to the community to achieve greatness herself. But... well, Gordon will remember who counseled him that Jiaying was unwell and whose predictions led to him averting disaster.
So, eventually, she'll have that control she craves. If she's willing to let others have it first. But then... Raina has always been pragmatic when necessary.
And as her dreams shift from destruction from Jiaying's threat to the one hidden on the other side of the Obelisk... Raina knows she's about to cement her position as right hand to Gordon the way he was once right hand to Jiaying. Not a bad place to be if she wants to lead in her own right one day.
#fanfiction#fic ideas#agents of shield#raina (agents of shield)#agent gonzales#gordon (agents of shield)
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So...I have more already.
No Ruin this time, but instead a little post-protocol interaction between Eclipse and Ruin Eclipse. Yeah, I still don't have a shorter name for him to differentiate between him and Ruin. So, prepare to maybe get confused at some point, but definitely prepare to read 'Eclipse' a LOT.
Also, same 15+ warning I gave before, for the same reason.
"Shoot! Another one fried!" Ruin Eclipse had tried several times to fix this particularly pesky machine. He stood, weary from his hours of trying and failing to get this machine working. Just as he was about to collapse in defeat on his new furniture, he spotted someone climbing the staircase.
Eclipse emerged from the top of the staircase. He was just returning to his 'room' after his daily report to Moon. The hand pressed against the top of his faceplate made this fact clear enough.
Ruin Eclipse could tell that Eclipse was not in the best of spirits. But, really, when was he ever? He knew he likely shouldn't bother, but Ruin Eclipse still felt the need to try checking in on him. As Eclipse drew nearer, Ruin Eclipse stepped forward to meet him the middle.
Eclipse stopped, glaring down at Ruin Eclipse. He groaned. "What do you want?"
Ruin Eclipse fought against his desire to back away. "I...I just wanted to ch-check on you. I um...I suppose you just reported to Moon?"
Eclipse pushed past Ruin Eclipse. "Oh, don't waste my time with that crap! The less I think about that waste of scrap, the better!"
Ruin Eclipse chased after Eclipse. "Fine! Fine! We won't talk about him! I still want to talk. Seeing as we're both here, and I know you cannot harm me, I would like to at least try to get to know you better."
Eclipse stopped in his tracks. He turned back quickly. "Why?" he began, in a mocking tone, "Still want to try and fix me? Give me therapy? Make me all better?"
'You make it difficult to want to do anything for you,' Ruin Eclipse thought to himself. "No. I'm afraid I could never provide adequate help for you." He took a few steps closer. "I really just want to spend some time with you. I've heard so many things that you've done, and yet I don't really know anything about you. Besides," he motioned toward the entire area of the West Arcade, "neither one of us has much to do here." His gaze then wandered back to the machine he had spent hours trying to fix. "Aha!" Ruin Eclipse raced over to the machine and then waved Eclipse over to join him.
Eclipse wasn't sure why, but he felt the smallest inclination to go along with this stupid 'hangout'. He really didn't have much to do at that moment. He rolled his eyes, but he still slunk over to the machine that Ruin Eclipse had moved toward. As he reached Ruin Eclipse's side, he felt a sudden jolt run through his body. He stumbled slightly as he felt it flow through every one of his limbs, and he let out a small grunt of shock. 'What the hell?' he thought. The strangest part was that it didn't feel bad. It didn't feel bad at all. But what was it?
Ruin Eclipse quickly reached out to stabilize Eclipse. "Eclipse! What happened? Are you alright?"
Eclipse groaned as he regained his balance. "I'm fine."
"You're sure? Did you trip?" Ruin Eclipse took a cursory glance the floor around them. "I don't see anything that might have-"
"I said I'm fine!"
Ruin Eclipse's head jolted back up to meet Eclipse's gaze, and he raised both hands up to chest level. "Alright. Sorry."
Eclipse sighed. "So, why did you call me over here?"
Ruin Eclipse perked up instantly at the reminder, "Oh! Yes!" He gestured toward the machine. "This arcade machine has been giving me trouble for a very long time. No matter how many times I go to that arcade machine dimension and grab parts for it, something always goes wrong!" He looked back up at Eclipse. "Since you showed up at a convenient time, and you're more skilled with machines than I am, I thought maybe you could take a look at it. I'm not asking you to fix it yourself! I just thought maybe you could tell me what I'm doing wrong, and maybe we could have some idle chit-chat in the process?"
Eclipse sighed. He was already right by the machine. Why not? Without saying a word, he crouched down to peer inside. He felt the jolt again. Another involuntary sound escaped his voice box. What. The. Hell. Was happening?
"Eclipse? Is something wrong?"
"No!" Eclipse's response was made intense by a combination of confusion and embarrassment. As much as he knew something was wrong, it almost seemed to settle into him after the immediate pulse, and it felt really good. He tried to push those thoughts away by focusing on the arcade machine. He couldn't immediately spot anything wrong. "I'm not seeing anything right away." He really didn't care, but he still felt a desire to ask. "How long have you been working on this?"
Ruin Eclipse was slightly surprised to hear Eclipse engage in small talk. "Today? About five hours, I believe. In total, 3 months. I only recently gained access to an arcade machine dimension, and that's given me a lot more to work with than what I had originally."
A smaller jolt. The feeling went through him again. It urged him to keep the conversation going with a promise to deliver more. "An arcade machine dimension? What; it's just nothing but arcade machines?"
"As far as I can tell; yes."
Another jolt. Eclipse had to try and not show that anything was happening. "I...don't think I ever knew of a dimension like that. Although, I never cared much for dimensions other than my own. That much I do remember."
"Yes, well," Ruin Eclipse's tone softened, "some dimensions are...less than pleasant. I may not have any memory of my dimension after the virus took hold, but I've been told that, when Sun and M-" he stopped himself, remembering that Eclipse didn't want to be reminded of Moon's existence, "when they were sent there in October, it was near its destructive end. It's likely gone at this point."
Those wonderful feelings began to engulf Eclipse completely. This was good. This talk with Ruin Eclipse was good. It must be. "Right. I guess the whole missing memory thing is something we have in common."
Ruin Eclipse chuckled, but it held a melancholy feeling. "Yes. I suppose it is." He paused. "You know...I actually had a gap in my memory much more recently. Just over a month ago, I want to say."
Eclipse was violently snapped out of his bliss. Did Ruin Eclipse know that the virus was still there? That Ruin would still take over at times? How much did he know? Eclipse tried to maintain a calm facade as he replied. "Really? How do you know?"
"Well," Ruin Eclipse began, "apparently two days after I was rescu-..." He trailed off, not wanting to tarnish the moment. He mimicked a cough. "Anyway! Two days later, I apparently revealed some brilliant plan to...um...deal with you. I found um...you know who...carrying a box of parts the next day, but I didn't even realize that the previous day had happened." Ruin Eclipse's voice began trembling slightly. "I was missing an entire day, and in that time, I suggested...killing you..."
Any remaining pleasant feelings were now replaced with fury. 'He wanted me dead?! He thought he'd just act all buddy-buddy with me while actively planning to kill me?! I'd rip his voicebox out of his chest if I could!'
"E-Eclipse?"
Eclipse had been so distracted by his thoughts that he hadn't noticed his growls. He also didn't notice he had snapped a wire that he'd ended up holding. He simulated a deep breath in. "So...I'm assuming Moon didn't find anything when he checked your systems after that, right?"
Stunned silence followed for a moment. "That's right. The firewall was still too strong to get past."
Eclipse huffed. "Figures." He stood slowly. "Well, I couldn't find a clear problem with what you'd done," he ignored the feelings rushing through again as he continued, "and I actually ended up making it more broken."
Ruin Eclipse took a step closer as he reassured Eclipse. "Oh, no! It's fine! We still had a nice conversation, and that was all I really wanted."
Eclipse turned to leave, but then he felt metal finger tips press gently against the back of his hand. He snatched his hand away from the unexpected touch and turned back toward Ruin Eclipse, who was visibly startled.
"Sorry! I just...it seemed like you knew something. About my gap in memory, I mean." He stepped closed, looking up to lock eyes with Eclipse. "Eclipse, if that thing is still inside me, please tell me!"
"I..." Eclipse stood, uncertain. He felt such a strong desire to tell what he knew, especially after learning that Ruin had planned to kill him. And yet, there seemed to be something stopping him. There was something that wouldn't allow him to reveal Ruin. There was obvious strain in his voice as he replied. "I...I can't. Can't say..."
"You...can't?" Ruin Eclipse tilted his head slightly. "As in you don't know? Or can you really not tell me?"
Eclipse shook his head. "Really...really can't. Something...in me...in my systems."
"Oh! Oh, that's...that's very bad! Very, very, very bad! I know you hate him, but Moon might-"
Eclipse suddenly lunged forward. "I'm not going to Moon! And I'm not going to that goody-good knockoff either! I'll figure it out on my own!" He stormed off, not wanting to give Ruin Eclipse a single chance to stop him from leaving. He didn't care what happened to him; Eclipse was going to kill Ruin.
#the sun and moon show#sun and moon show au#that's really what this is at this point#i'm thinking of using 'sams obedience protocol au' for this but i'm still not totally sure about it
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Here's some more What Ifs. Again, free to use but I'd greatly appreciate it if you sent the fic my way.
What If… Rhea’s Plan Worked? I don’t have much to say on this one. The results of Rhea’s plan are so painfully ambiguous I don’t know how this would go.
What If… There were Two Byleths? This is based off a fanfic idea I had a while back and I'm sure plenty of people have already done this. Basically, instead of one singular Byleth there are two twin Byleths, one female and one male. I’ve named these two Blythe and Theo respectively because why not. Both Byleths would be quiet and reserved like in canon but for different reasons. Blythe would be the brooding, serious one who hides a fiery temper and is fiercely protective of Theo and views herself as his older sister, despite being twins, while Theo would be more nervous and a bit of a shrinking violet, though better with people than Blythe. Each one would also represent a different part of canon Byleth’s skill set, differentiating them from each other more. Blythe takes on Byleth’s combat skills, being terrifying on the battlefield and channeling all that repressed anger into her fighting. Meanwhile, Theo takes on Byleth’s tactical skills, more at home poring over a battle map then on the battlefield himself (though he is by no means incompetent when it comes to battle, just not quite as good as Blythe) and he almost seems a different person when planning, always keeping a level head and giving orders without hesitation. Yeah, I put a lot of thought into this. As a consequence of this, Sitri actually possibly survives since it’s basically impossible for her to have surviving twins if she doesn’t.
What If… Byleth Met Byleth? This is literally just a Fire Emblem Heroes fanfic. And technically possible in Fifth Path since we know Three Houses Anna met Heroes Anna. Though if I did write that it would be non-canon to the fic.
What If… Kostas Killed Edelgard? Surprised I didn't think of this before. It’s such an obvious question.
What If… Edelgard went Feral? It’s common fan speak (or, at least, it’s common BackSet speak) to refer to Post-Timeskip Dimitri as Feral Dimitri. But what if instead of Feral Dimitri we got Feral Edelgard. I don't know how this would happen but it’s a question.
What If… Fodlan Lost its Rulers? Or, in other words, what if Claude, Dimitri, and Edelgard died before Edelgard got a chance to start her war. Probably more war.
What if… The Old Gods Came Back? Remember all those saints we kept running into who were guarding ancient weapons as monsters and whatnot? What if they decided “screw it, let’s get back into the world” for some reason. Maybe due to the war, maybe due to boredom. Who knows.
What if… Fodlan had an Infinity War? No, this isn’t a Marvel crossover. Well, not technically. The only Marvel thing in this would be the Infinity Stones which, instead of everyone racing to stop Thanos from getting the Stones it's instead everyone racing to get the Stones themselves. More specifically, it’s Edelgard vs. Rhea vs. Those Who Slither in the Dark. Edelgard wants the Stones to make her perfect world, Rhea wants the Stones to bring her mother back, and Those Who Slither in the Dark want the Stones to get revenge. What are the Kingdom and Alliance doing during all this, you might ask? Trying to avoid getting steam rolled, of course.
What if… Fire Emblem: Three Houses IN SPACE!? Yeah, I’ve got nothing. I just want to see the Three Houses characters in space.
What if… Everyone had Mechs? Again, I just want to see mech battles with Three Houses characters. Like, Dimitri could have a big bulky mech with good armor and a lion theme. Meanwhile, Claude could have a quick and nimble mech with poor armor but good range and, obviously, a deer theme. And Edelgard’s mech could have high fire power and the ability to fly with an eagle theme to fit.
What If… Fire Emblem: Three Houses Took Place a Long Time Ago in a Galaxy Far, Far Away? Okay, this one is basically a Star Wars crossover. But I have so many ideas! Like I figure maybe Byleth and Jeralt can be Mandalorians who lack a clan and have cool custom armor. And Sothis is either some sort of droid attached to that ship (why doesn’t Star Wars have organic piloted ships with Droid AI (vulture bombers don’t count they don't have organic pilots)? Kind of weird, if you ask me) or some weird force thing. And Felix, Sylvain, Ingrid, and Dimitri can all be Jedi Padawans. Felix is the one who has trouble keeping his emotions in check and is always teetering on the edge of the Dark Side and may even use it sometimes (which actually isn’t unusual, some Jedi do use minor Dark Side abilities). Ingrid can be the serious one that’s always trying to get the other to focus. Sylvain can be kind of like Anakin just without secretly being crazy. And Dimitri can look like a golden boy but is secretly even closer to the Dark Side than Felix.
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Prologue
Hullo, and welcome to the first post! This one will be my thoughts on the several pages of set-up before we get to the actual book.
Direct quotes from the book will be in italics to differentiate them from my rambling :)
1: Concerning Hobbits
My man Jirt immediately mentions The Hobbit about four lines in
'Many, however, may wish to know more about this remarkable people' - I read somewhere that JRRT wanted to publish The Silmarillion after The Hobbit but his publishers were like 'no. more hobbits' , and if that's true I would like to think that this was JRRT's way of being like 'fine. you want more hobbits? i will give you SO MUCH INFO about hobbits'
I strongly agree with hobbits about shoes being annoying - I myself prefer to not wear them when I can (and since I now live in an area without bindies I can assume that it will be safe to walk barefoot on grass)
Early hobbits were living near the Anduin when Greenwood became Mirkwood
The hobbits renamed the river Baranduin 'Brandywine' - aka 'alcohol 1 alcohol 2' and I love that for them
Bullroarer is mentioned twice within the first 5 pages and both times Jirt is like 'it's an interesting story BUT irrelevant here so I'm not going to bring it up again'
I love that we get a full and detailed description of hobbit architecture for multiple paragraphs
'Hobbits delighted in such things, if they were accurate: they liked to have books filled with things that they already knew, set out fair and square with no contradictions.' - Oh, to be a hobbit and not a historical archaeologist constantly arguing about How Things Were
2: Concerning Pipe-weed
Opinions: is pipeweed tobacco or straight-up weed? I know that since Jirt says it's probably a variety of Nicotiana it's probably tobacco, but also it says 'probably' and it's funnier to imagine that hobbits are just constantly high
The Prancing Pony is apparently the home of smoking
'Not even the Wizards first thought of that before we did. Though one Wizard that I knew took up the art long ago, and became as skilful in it as in all other things that he put his mind to.'
And from that information I like to imagine that Gandalf stopped in Bree when he first showed up in Middle-earth, was given a pipe, went 'that's the good shit' and immediately spread it to as many people as he could
3: Of the Ordering of the Shire
Jirt: thank you so much for making it 'the Shire' and not 'The Shire'
I love hobbit naming conventions and the fact that they seem to be the only race in Middle-earth with distinct familial surnames
For some reason the name 'Brandybuck' has a Good Ring to it
The Tooks truly are a wild family - the Thain is apparently 'master of the Shire-moot, and captain of the Shire-muster and the Hobbitry-in-arms' and now I'm imagining a very angry Took leading a small army of 3-foot-tall hobbits sometime in hobbit ancient history
The head of the Took family is just called 'The Took' like they're some notorious criminal
4: Of the Finding of the Ring
Quick recount of the events of The Hobbit in case you haven't read it
Bilbo gave his mithril coat to the Mathom-house in Michel Delving. This shows how little hobbits care about shiny things, but I do find it funny that he was like 'yeah just send the shirt to the House of Random Things' and it stayed there for years
NOTE ON THE SHIRE RECORDS
Bilbo you absolute legend, thank you for being the preeminent Hobbit Historian
If the story of the copies of the Red Book ain't a good description of what actually happens to many historical records I don't know what is
Merry and Pippin, we love hoarder librarians
Elladan and Elrohir apparently stayed in Middle-earth long after Elrond and Galadriel sailed, and Celeborn stayed with them in Rivendell for a while until he sailed too
#jirt#tolkien#reread#reading process#rereading lotr#lotr#idk how to turn on the post cut thing for length#so if anyone could point me in the right direction#it would be much appreciated
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I had a question.
So, just an hour or two ago, I was going through some sort of “manic high”, sorta like how somebody with bipolar disorder would have (I don’t have BPD). It felt like a bullet train at max speed and completely derailing, and it was incredibly draining. It also got me wondering.
Do people with severe enough ADHD deal with ADHD episodes like this? My search attempts are often futile because all of it is just talking about how to differentiate between BPD and ADHD and BPD manic episodes, but nobody ever mentions ADHD episodes; the only time I’ve seen it mentioned ever was when somebody made a clip of crankgameplays to show what an ADHD episode looked like.
Do they even exist? I’ve got no idea, so I was just wondering if you knew.
Hey! Sorry, I saw your other ask a while ago, but I wanted to talk to my ADHD specialist before I answered because I’d never heard of the term “episode” being used to describe ADHD. I’m also going to splice both questions together here and answer them in segments in the hope it helps :)
So like I said, I’d never heard of the term “episode” with ADHD, and neither has my specialist. Part of ADHD is having a natural ebb and flow between inattention and hyperactivity, sometimes skewed toward one or the other, depending on your ADHD type. (What are the different types of ADHD?)
Your type of ADHD may also fluctuate because of other factors, such as stress, changes in medication, hormonal fluctuations, lack of sleep, overstimulation, or even under-stimulation, to name a few. Another overlooked part of ADHD is emotional dysregulation, which may cause rapid cycling emotions that may look like an “episode” to someone unfamiliar with what that actually qualifies. The way my therapist explained it and using your example of bipolar disorder, “episode” is used in diagnostic criteria to categorize manic or depressive episodes that last X amount of time, are usually severe, potentially requiring hospitalization, and are accompanied by other symptoms not found in ADHD.
Our “bursts” of energy or lack thereof typically don’t last long enough to be considered episodes. This isn’t to say they are not severe or debilitating, especially if you suffer from things like anxiety or depression that ADHD can feed into. Merely that “episode” is not used as part of the language used to discuss ADHD, which is likely why you’re not finding anything.
So, do ADHDers experience intense bursts of energy that are draining afterward? Yeah, we can do, especially if we lean more toward hyperactive than inattentive. (And again, it's normal to fluctuate and also for things to be affected or worsened by secondary factors.)
And I'm going to put the rest under the cut because this is hella long.
I’ve seen some people think that all hyperactivity has to come with fixation, but that’s not how ADHD works. It’s true if something gets us excited or gives us a dopamine boost, we might be more prone to becoming hyperfixated and burn all our energy up on that. But you don’t need something to fixate on to experience hyperactivity. Some of us are just wired to the moon sometimes, and yes, it can be very draining when it ends. Some people find medication helpful in regulating their hyperactivity/preventing it from coming in such big swings and dips.
Speaking personally, when I'm hyper and nothing is grabbing my attention, the world and people around me can feel painfully slow. It's like I'm going a mile a minute doing everything but achieving nothing. The crash that comes after can also be particularly bad, as I also have dysthymia, which can tip over into a major depressive episode depending on other factors in my life at that time. For years I was misdiagnosed as having "probably Bipolar Type II" by a doctor who didn't believe teenage girls could "get" ADHD* and convinced my parents I needed psychoactive drugs. The drugs I was on didn't help, in fact, they made me worse so I was taken off them.
It wasn't until I found an ADHD specialist as an adult a few years ago that I made any real progress. And I'll be honest, I was shocked when she diagnosed me with ADHD, I really didn't think I had it. Right up until we started doing the work and slowly but surely my mental health began to improve and my understanding of myself with it.
Sometimes there are days when I will be wired to the moon and it will derail my entire day because I can't focus on a single thing/I'll focus too much on a single thing. Other times, like when I am closer to my menstrual cycle, I'll crash into inattentiveness and depression because of how my hormones affect my various different conditions, including my ADHD. Medication would likely help with this, but due to medical reasons, that's currently not an option for me so I do the best I can.
That said, if you’re experiencing something more than hyperactivity but it's not mania, you may be experiencing a form of hypomania and you should talk to a doctor about your concerns.
Hypomania typically occurs in Bipolar Type II disorder, which is less severe than the manic episodes in Bipolar I. I’ve experienced both manic and hypomanic episodes in my life due to medication interactions, and they felt very different from ADHD hyperactivity. It's not just derailing mile-a-minute thoughts, it's something usually completely mood-altering and out of control feeling followed by devastating crashes.
If you're on any medications and are worried you are experiencing something like this, you need to talk to your doctor. You might just need a dosage tweak, or you might be better off on a different medication altogether. Also, make a thorough check of any and all medications you are taking to check for any interactions.
I'm on a cocktail of meds for my MCAS, which if I were to combine them with the SSRI one of my doctors wants me to try, would result in serotonin syndrome. The doctor didn't notice this, but the pharmacist sure as shit did!
Some people (ask me how I know) even develop mild hypomania from overusing the sunlamps used to treat SAD (link), which is why brands like Verilux now include warnings in their leaflets about not using the lamps for more than X amount of time a day. Thankfully it goes away once you stop overusing the lamps.
Which actually brings me to something you asked last time about being unable to sleep at night. Insomnia and delayed sleep phase cycles are not uncommon in ADHD. This is likely because our circadian rhythm is thought to be out of whack (link).
You also mentioned having racing thoughts at night too, which is not uncommon either with hyperactivity. I find if I get overstimulated before trying to sleep, I’ll end up lying there awake with what I like to call “radio ADHD” playing in my head. It can range from snippets of songs stuck on repeat, conversations, things I’ve watched on TV, arguments, or if something is happening the next day, fixating on not being late for it. Hence, I end up getting no sleep because you can’t accidentally sleep in if you don’t sleep.
*jazz hands of despair.*
Sometimes I find Radio ADHD soothing if it’s fixating on something chill, but it can get annoying fast and even distressing if I’m tired and can’t “change the station.” (I’d say “shut it off,” but as of yet, I’ve never been able to do that. Medication helps some people with this, as can looking into “sleep hygiene” if you haven’t already.) Conversely, if I’m bored or something is too stressful, I will 100% fall asleep because my brain would literally rather just turn off than do something I don’t want to do or is a low dopamine reward task.
Brains are fun.
Anyway, I uh, I am not sure if any of this is useful to you, but I hope it helps. Mostly I'm just repeating back what my specialist said when I asked her about it lol. Good luck, and I hope you figure things out.
----
*NB: It's important to note that ADHD and Bipolar Disorder can be comorbid. It's not a one or the other situation. I’m just throwing it out there in case hearing that helps someone else pursue the proper diagnosis!
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summary: gojo’s tired of you resisting him
warnings: home invasion, noncon, degradation, fem!reader
a/n: this was supposed to be a crumb for @mahitopegger i have no idea wtf happened. i didn’t edit this || reposted from sideblog (now deactivated) on 4/17/2021.
It was only after the soft click of your door, and the eerie silence thereafter that seemed to threaten to close you in, that you realized that something wasn’t quite right. Your eyes darted left, then right, and you kicked off your shoes slower than usual, setting them semi-haphazardly to the side of your entryway.
Even if you weren’t paranoid, you were still the type of person to double check, sometimes triple-check your locks on occasion before you left your home, and you did remember your key turning the right way just seconds ago.
Maybe you were overreacting - after all you lived in a relatively safe area, alone save for your cat with a propensity to mewl for food at all hours of the day. Ah, that was possibly the issue, the fact that your little furry friend hadn’t made his presence immediately. But he knew how to be quiet sometimes, and was fond of an early afternoon nap.
The sound of your keys clattering on your coffee table now seemed unceremoniously loud, like you were disturbing a religious service. In your own house.
Your heart started to race for just a moment, and you turned around quickly.
Nothing. No person, no ghost, no cat. Just you, a sudden sense of unease, and your rapidly beating heart.
Why were you so anxious?
You couldn’t recall the last time you’d felt so unsettled for the moments in which you paced down your hallway, ears tuned to the soft footfalls of your presumably sleeping companion. You would have whispered its name but you didn’t want to wake up the needy little bastard unnecessarily.
It was only three paces in that you stilled suddenly, and the memory of the last time you’d felt this way suddenly struck vividly in your mind.
Clear blue eyes, bordered by long, pale white eyelashes. A smile, once easy and bright, with corners turned up far too high into malice.
You froze.
Was it him? Was Gojo in your house? He wouldn’t... would he?
Your last encounter had been... suboptimal, to say the least. You’d all but told him to get lost, that you weren’t and would never be interested, not after knowing who he was, what he was.
You needed a quiet, calm existence. Your imprint on the world would be measured. You had to stay away from bad omens like his.
But his reaction had been unnatural. He hadn’t given you a real response, just a smile, and you had felt just as unnerved then as you did now before you parted.
You were clearly still spooked.
But these nerves were just vestiges of your anxiety. Gojo knew how to take no for an answer. Of course he did.
He didn’t - you opened your bedroom to find the young sorcerer waiting for you, your cat comfortable in his arms.
“Ah! You’re back~”
Gojo didn’t move; rather, he continued to sit in his relaxed position, legs outstretched onto the bed, palm stroking softly at the soft orange fur. The soft purr of the docile animal filled the air with sharp contrast to your wordless mouth, opening and closing once in shock, and the frenzied beat of your heart.
He smiled before his eyes did, and shifted on top of your covers, getting to his feet. Dressed casually in a white t-shirt and a loose pair of sweatpants, as though he’d been lounging around your house the entire day... as though he lived here.
“W-what are you doing here?” You choked out.
His eyebrows furrowed, and his hold on the little creature relaxed, who remained for just a moment, mewing once before jumping off his lap, brushing by your legs that felt as though they would start shaking any moment, and then promptly sauntered out of the room.
“You didn’t tell me you had a cat,” Satoru remarked, now sitting with legs criss-crossed on the bed, hair mussed and relaxed, and with affect as bright as a child on his first sleepover. He patted the space on the bed next to him, beckoning you to come sit. “Did you have a good day?”
“Gojo, please get out of my house.”
His expression darkened for just a moment before it returned to its natural cheeriness. He patted the space next to him again.
“You must be tired. I can make you something. Tea?”
Your feet were glued to the ground, neither advancing nor retreating.
“P-please leave,” you repeated, more wary this time. Your hands were starting to shake and you watched his eyes flicker to them, then back to your eyes.
“Why would I do that?” He said, tilting his head ever so slightly.
His eyes bore into yours and you felt your stomach turn.
“Don’t you like my attention?”
“Satoru, please,” you continued, your lower lip wobbling inadvertently. “Please, just leave... I won’t tell anyone you came here, just... I can’t return whatever feelings you have, so just go.”
Your fists clenched and unclenched, but you still were so tense, planted onto the floor as though you were a sharp dagger thrust into vulnerable flesh. Why weren’t your feet moving? You should be running. Running as far as you can from this man who could just as easily become a monster if he so pleased.
As though he knew you’d already become powerless - not that it made a difference, the power differential was already so vast - he rose, walking towards you in an open, unguarded stance. He wasn’t afraid of you in the least. The very thought made your blood boil.
Once he stood before you, towering over your shorter, smaller frame, his lips pursed.
“Stop shaking.”
It was a command, given in an annoyed but direct fashion.
You don’t know why you eked out, powerlessly, “I can’t.”
“You weren’t this afraid when you were telling me to fuck off a couple days ago,” he noted. His hand rose to grip your chin, tilting your face to him. You don’t know when you’d started crying, but tears were now streaming down your face, warm and wetting his fingers.
“You’re crying? Where’s the sass you had then?”
“Please...”
Against your better wishes, his lips pressed to yours, and somehow then, your body remembered that adrenaline could also make you fight, and you did fight, thumping your hands balled into fists against his chest and his shoulders, as his hand gripped your chin tighter and his tongue forced its way down your throat. Once he’d gotten tired of your struggle, his other arm hooked around your waist, and he pulled you closer, pressing you against his body.
Your screams were muffled by his kiss as it grew deeper, and at some point, he’d decided on biting your lip painfully, drawing blood once he’d threatened you to shut the fuck up before he gave you something to cry about for real.
You remembered that the first time Gojo had kissed you, it had been soft and tender, nothing like this kiss that was violent and demanded submission; once his hand moved from its grip on your chin, it grasped your hair, fingers twisting and tugging to tilt your head back.
His lips left yours, now red and soon purple and blue, and made their way down your neck to mark them the same.
Every scream was futile, every plea for mercy fell on deaf ears.
At some point, you may have heard your cat meow for something... food? Out of sympathy? You weren’t sure, all you could think about were the painful hickeys on your collarbones and traveling down your bosom.
“I don’t know why you’re so resistant. You yourself called me selfish,” he murmured, ripping the top part of your clothing with the nonchalance with which one would peel a banana. At the sight of your exposed breasts, he was like a man rabid, slamming you backwards into the wall without much regard for head injury. His left arm caged you in, while his right pressed painfully onto your breast.
He paused for a moment, and grinned salaciously.
“Oh, don’t look at me like that~! You look so docile... it’s weird coming from you.”
To that, a fire renewed in your eyes, and you spat directly in his face. His lips curled again in satisfaction, barely reacting to the spittle dripping down his pretty features.
“Fuck you.”
“I will.”
With a small chuckle, he jerked your face painfully to the left such that you couldn’t look at him directly as he took your breast into his mouth.
The idea of this bastard suckling on you, loudly, lewdly as though you’d belonged to him only made the churn in your stomach worse, but the desperate attempts to a knee to his chest were met with barely a resistance. Like he knew you couldn’t hurt him and it was only a matter of time until you stopped and succumbed to him.
The process was already happening - you could feel your nipples hardening and a new flow of heat in your panties. Your tears became more prolific - no longer fear, but rage, but the hand that kept you steady against the wall was impossibly strong.
Your head swam as a confused pleasure started to replace the pain and fear you were feeling. More clothing was torn off of you, more of your skin was marked and licked and sucked. Once your panties were ripped to shreds, he lay your now languid and fight-drained body against him, cooing appreciatively at the new helplessness, pumping two slender fingers up and down your wet inner core as he moved you from the hard wall to the soft bed.
You almost thanked him.
His fingers remained within you as he laid you down, but once he withdrew his touch as your pounding hazy head hit the pillow, he replaced them with the roughness of his tongue, penetrating you without the least bit of shame.
You let slip the moan you had been holding in in defiance.
“That’s it, baby, let me hear you.”
He continued to lick and you continued to mewl.
Once he’d tired of the taste of your cunt, he invaded your privacy in the most all-encompassing way possible, pushing every inch of a greedy, throbbing cock inside of you. As you cried from the stretch, he shushed you with a hand clasped over your mouth to muffle your screams.
As if someone was going to help you. Maybe your cat would come and watch, but he’d found something else to do.
“I know it hurts but you’ll get used to it, I promise, babe,” he murmured, groaning slightly as he seated himself to the hilt. “There.”
He stilled and in the silence of the moment only punctuated by both of your soft pants, you remembered how to sob.
His nose crinkled, and he let out of a soft sigh, cock jerking impatiently inside you.
“Why are you so stubborn?” He mused, leaning against you so that his head rested in the softness of your breasts. He could hear your heartbeat that doesn’t beat for him... but rather it did, because he is the one making it quicken in some odd rhythm of terror and pleasure.
You didn’t speak because there was far, far too much to yell.
As though a timer had rung to mark the end of his empathy, he rose onto his hands again, sighing as he adjusted into the plushness of your walls that didn’t reject him as fervently as you did. He moved, shoving two fingers down your throat to gag your renewed protests as he thrust into you repeatedly.
The short gasps with every stroke only encouraged him, and the immense pleasure he found in the light of your eyes starting to fade into a placid dullness.
“You love me,” he informed you with every rut.
You didn’t answer.
You weren’t sure what this disgusting repetitive sensation bringing your body to climax was. You were no longer sure what he was even talking about, just that there was a warm thing pumping inside of you and fingers down your throat and pain everywhere else in your body, particularly your neck and shoulders and arms and breasts, and you were staring into precious sapphires littering the base of twin lakes.
“You love me,” he repeated. “I know you do.”
#gojo x reader#gojo satoru x reader#yandere gojo#yandere gojo x reader#tw noncon#jujutsu kaisen smut#jjk#jujutsu kaisen#gojo sm#not sfw#gojo smut#mae.drabble#mae.writing
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This is more soft now.
So, it is inspired by Russell request. No intention to say it is completely mine idea. Just more suited for Shifty.
Reader loves raccoons. They are amazed by them, they find the creatures adorable.
I think this is way better and easier :). As always, feel free to make headcanons.
Aw, yay! Raccoons are real cute! I am assuming that the reader is human while Lifty and Shifty are actual raccoons, or else it may come across as a little race fetishy. Also I'm fine with being handed a scary premise, so y'know ;)
Shifty with S/O who adores Raccoons
Raccoons were always your favourite animal, just something about their little scamp energy was so endearing to you
And as such you ended up learning maybe more than the average person would about those little trash pandas
But could anyone really blame you? They were cute and at least you owned up to your weird obsession with them
But one day while you were out it was so windy out that your hat kept on flying off of your head
The fifth time this happened somehow the wind was able to carry your hat all the way to a random alleyway
“Stupid hat, can’t stay on my head for more than a five seconds without being blown off.” You grumbled while searching for it, eventually you found it and something in it
That something being a very cute yet somehow… green(?) raccoon
You fought back both the urge to squeal out loud and make whoever was passing by very worried and the urge to take the raccoon home and keep it as a pet knowing that raccoons cannot be easily domesticated
You convinced the raccoon to get out of your hat but even then it started to follow you around and occasionally when you stopped would curl around your legs
It was cute, but you knew it couldn’t stay with you forever, but even when you entered your house it followed you inside and took residence upon your couch
“The little guy seems to really like me and people in the past have had pet raccoons so it’s not impossible… hm, yeah okay, but I’ll need a name for him, well while he was following me home he kept on looking from side to side so maybe Shifty? For how his eyes were moving around and all.”
And that’s how you came to have a pet raccoon, he was a little troublesome at first digging through your trash and refused to take baths but eventually you were able to lay down some ground rules which he followed well
But after the next few days you noticed some chittiring coming from the alleyway where your bins were and to your surprise saw another green raccoon, you took him inside and he started to play with Shifty
“Hmm, seems they may be related… maybe their brothers. Well, I guess if one of them’s called Shifty then the other can be called Lifty, ain’t very creative but it’s all I got.”
To differentiate the two you got Shifty a small hat, much like the one you first found him in
And that is how you ended up with two raccoons
Fin
#sorry it was short just wasn't really sure what to write for it#but the concept was too cute not to write anything... so yeah#hope you still liked it tho :)#shifty x reader#kinda?#htf shifty#htf lifty#lifty and shifty#happy tree friends#htf x reader#again kinda?#more platonic than anything obvs
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Percy was one of many humans aboard the USS Olympus. Actually, the USS Olympus was the vessel with the highest percentage of humans by unit, which was why he was assigned to it.
Percy was an anthropologist with a specialty in linguistics and cultural differentiation. He also minored in psychology. He could spot a nervous tic on a human a mile away, and it only took a little bit of conversing to figure out why it was happening, and try to fix it.
He was very good at his job. Though, his job was different from most anthropologists on Terra. Because of his background in psychology, he was allowed to act on his observations, not just jot them down.
That’s why he chose psych. Most anthropologists just observed and took notes and wrote papers. Percy got to interact with others. And, considering he only personally knew one other human here, he was excited to get to to examine all of the others.
However, due to the nature of anthropology, Percy answered to one Nico Di Angelo, the Chief Science Officer, and a Plutonian. He was a strict man, very set in his ways and dedicated to his job. Percy both admired and was frightened by him.
Their first meeting was at the academy, though Percy had only admired the handsome man from afar then. This time though, was their first meeting after the USS Olympus set sail. The Science Meeting.
“Okay, we’re going to go over members, old news, new news, and you’ll vote amongst yourselves for who will join me as a representative at the Officer’s meeting tonight, alright?” Nico looked up from his paperwork and surveyed the round table, getting nods from all directions.
“Members first. We’ll go in a circle to get to know each other. No silly games, just your name, species, and job description.” Nods again. “I’m Nico, I’m Plutonian, and I am your Chief Science Officer.”
Juniper was next, a horticulturist who was growing their food.
Then Katie, a biologist.
A Minervan called Malcolm was next, who was apparently a ‘humanologist.’
Percy raised his hand, much to Nico’s amusement.
“Yes, Jackson,” he waved his hand at Percy.
“What’s humanology?” He asked Malcolm, who squinted his silvery eyes.
“It’s a study we have on many of the planets surrounding Terra. We study humans, their culture and habits and languages,” he was going to go on but Percy put a hand up to stop him and nodded sagely.
“I understand.”
“You… do?” Nico asked with uncertainty. It should sound weird to a human that their species was being analyzed at all times, when other species weren’t.
“Of course, we call them anthropologists on Earth.” Percy smiled.
Malcolm paused, and it seemed all eyes were on Percy.
“You have humans… that study humans?” Nico questioned slowly, as if Percy somehow didn’t understand what he was suggesting.
“Of course, there are ten billion of us, all with varying cultures, languages, backgrounds, habits, motivations, likes, dislikes, all that jazz,” Percy shrugged. “If nobody sought to understand it, we would be a very dull and confused people.”
“So… You’re next anyway. Why don’t you introduce yourself?” Nico suggested.
“Okay! I’m Percy Jackson, I’m a human anthropologist,” he was met with raised eyebrows and impressed nods around. That was alright, he hadn’t expected applause. They continued around, but when Percy got up to leave with everyone else, Nico called him over.
“Percy, I’m wondering why we have an anthropologist on board,” he really cut to the chase there.
“Well,” Percy sat down across from the winged man. “This vessel has the most amount of humans by percentage than any other in the fleet, and humans in space have never been analyzed by an anthropologist, even before we started accepting other species onto our planet. Think about the moon landing, the Apollo missions, the Space Race. They never considered the cultural implications of sending someone into space for an extended period of time. Individually it could include psychological defects, but culturally it could include hero-worship, group opinions that could affect census polls, etcetera,” Percy shrugged. “So, they decided to send me to observe. But, I also have some psychology experience, so I’m also an acting counselor here for humans. I’m allowed to interfere when things go wrong.”
“For example?” Nico prodded.
“I can’t give you too much detail to preserve confidentiality, but what I can say is that when someone gets homesick, for example, it’s my job to realize that, and try to make them feel more at home. Finding a picture of their family members, buying them a plant to put in their bunk, playing soccer in the common area. It could be anything really.”
“Fascinating,” Nico sighed. “Well, I am happy to have you on board to take care of our human team members. Even though humans studying humans sounds so weird.”
Percy couldn’t help but laugh at that.
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BOTW2 Theory time!
I may have had a moment of galaxy brain (hours before the nintendo direct and I don’t remember typing it xD) over on twitter and I want to elaborate on the theory I have now that we could see the teaser!
Ok so, after seeing the trailer, I still don’t think it’s gonna be the whole time on the past, but I still think we’re gonna be mind-traveling back in time in some sections, using the memories sistem from the first game. Only, instead of experiencing it as a cinematic, you play through it as the “original character”. If you’ve ever played memories sections on a video game, or the first games of the Assassin’s Creed saga, you know how that goes: you’ve got a clear objective and a few things you cannot do because the character didn’t do them. Obviously Breath of the Wild stands out for the freedom it gives you in completing most tasks, so I think the limitations on this case would just be “don’t die” or “don’t fall from the sky” xDD
I think this because the trailer very pointedly differentiates the Link from the skies from the Link on the ground (or No-Ponytail link and normal Link) using the green garb and the champions garb.
If you check the trailer, you’ll notice that Sky Link always wears green and ground Link wears blue, even if skies Link’s boots sometimes change, both maintaining the “cursed arm” (have you noticed how we never see their face after the cave scene is over?). Maybe it’s because to do the sky stuff you need that special garb, but if you look at the tapestry from the original game
You’ll see that the ancient hero wears blue, white AND green (also the glowy yellow hand). This is why I think present Link is seeing the memories of the ancient hero trought the sky trials (to give them a name). In this case he is not proving himself, like he was during the Sheikah shrines, he is gaining the knowledge/power neccessary to seal Ganon once more. Obviously we’re playing through it, but by videogame logic, that’s how it was originally done because it’s the original character doing it, so we’re learning of it. Maybe we’ll even unlock cinematic memories as the trial is completed or in another way, seeing as that’s how the original also told us part of its story.
I also think green cloth Link is the ancient hero because of how Ganondorf looks.
No, not the dried bacon skin! xD I mean their clothes! They’re both that one shoulder free plus skirt style
You can see sky Link’s brown cloth under the green part. It’s more or less the same style of garb, with the difference of Ganon’s being longer, and more decorated with gold and stuff (which makes sense if Ganon the Gerudo King in this game too, nothing shows your status like jewels).
This detail would technically make sense if they’re from the same era, and, especially, if they’re from the same society/group of people.... < <
Which takes me to my next part of my theory! And pure speculation territory xD
Ok, the green glow, the cursed arm, the ghost arm. What the hell is this (aside from the obvious substitute of the Sheikah slate) and why is it there?
There are small glimpses of it during the trailer, that the sky constructs seem to work with the same energy of the arm/seal of Ganon
(which, again, sheikah slate 2.0) but, why did it exist, why is just an arm what seals Ganon, and why does the depiction of the ancient hero show him with a glowy yellow hand? Is it their actual arm but with runes, or is it like a prosthetic?
Ok, so, my theory is that it is actually a sort of magic prosthetic. What if the ancient hero lost his arm for a specific reason, and the people that used this green magic (The Zonai maybe) not only gave him a new arm so that he could have two arms again, but for the explicit purpose of stopping and sealing Ganon. Something that seems it’s what’s going to happen to present time Link, the malice takes away his arm, and he gets it replaced by the seal arm.
Maybe, like with present Link, the reason Ancient hero lost his arm too was because of Ganon, but just not in a lost battle or something.
We’ve already seen on the first BOTW that each race and group of people, while living on the same period, they wear different and characteristic styles of clothing. Think the difference between the Hylians and Sheikah, the first wear a more medieval-european style of clothing (mostly) and the second it’s lightly inspired by traditional japanese (and the ninja theme). And when you look at the Gerudo, the Rito or the Zora (what little clothing they wear xD), again, it’s completely different from one another. So it’s not too wild to assume that maybe if Ancient hero and mummy Ganon have a similar clothing style, they were part of a same group. Which is curious because we know this Ganon is Gerudo, he wears gerudo symbols on jewels and clothing, and ancient hero was almost certainly Hylian, given what we know of him.
This could be because just like in Ocarina of Time Ganon feigns loyalty to the royal family of Hyrule to later seize power. OR, maybe it’s because (bear with me, I’m just having fun here xDD) ancient hero was part of Ganon’s army?
On the first trailer we could see a mural that shows someone marching on a horse, with long hair and the gerudo symbol on his back, followed by what looks like soldiers.
So it’s probably Ganon with his army traveling or conquering or other stuff. And maybe, Ancient hero was part of that army. What if, just like in the present Ganon’s malice takes away Link’s arm, Ganon took away Ancient hero’s arm?
Why tho? Well, maybe in his endless thirst for power, Ganon did something that collided with ancient hero’s morals, and he stood up to him?
(Sorry I’m using this one, but I don’t know how to better portray this idea. Also it’s much more juicy and dramatic if Link and Ganon were once friends xDD Just swap bravery for courage. Yes JKRO sucks for what she has said and done)
What if, at that moment, the triforce of courage showed on ancient hero’s hand (it has shown both in his right and left hand in diffferent games, so why not the right hand in this occassion), and Ganon, recognizing the threat, chopped off the ofending arm and left him for dead, prompting all the events that would lead to the sealing of the calamity?
Just a thought xDD
What do you think? Too far fetched? Maybe a bit of possibility? Will Zelda be allowed to DO STUFF INSTEAD OF HAVING TO EB RESCUED AGAIN??? Let’s see what Nintendo gives us, I can’t wait for 2022 to arrive!
#Legend of zelda#botw#breath of the wild#botw2#breath of the wild 2#nintendo#spoilers#theory#botw2 spoilers#just in case#ganon#ganondorf#ancient hero#link
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@valleydean As of the start of writing this it's nearly 3:30 in the morning, I am almost exactly 13 hours away from the minute I was born on this day 23 years ago and I am awake thinking about Dean fucking Winchester so here you go. As a weird birthday gift from me to you on my birthday, I present mild angst but also of course fluff. By the time you get this my birth minute will have passed and I will be 23 ((oh my god just like Dean and Cas AGS.)) As with all of my ags posting this contains spoilers for the story, you’ve been warned!!
Dean’s 27th birthday snuck up on him. Well, as much as a date that comes around every year without fail can sneak up on a person who also has a solid five people clamouring to remind him. Somehow even Jack memorized the date after he heard Cas talk about it one time years ago and now the kid won’t stop bringing it up, which yeah is cute as hell but also Dean’s never been one to make a big deal of his birthdays before.
But 27 fucks him up. And hard.
He’s officially lived longer than Dean Wesson did, which sure, he technically did when he made it to the end of December, but the milestone feels bigger now that he’s 27. He’s 27. Dean’s never been 27 before because Dean Wesson never made it to 27.
It shouldn't mean anything, Dean Wesson is as much him as he is, even more so now that there’s no door keeping the memories from the light of day, but as he'd watched the clock flick from 11:59 to 12:00 with Cas beside him ready to give him his first of 27 birthday kisses something within him had felt morosely finalized.
A chapter closed, one that he’ll never be able to reopen the same way he did the first time around. Dean Wesson’s story is over. Dean Wesson’s story is his, but a part of it, the largest, hell only, part of that story came to a close when those red numbers switched over.
He doesn't know what to feel. He doesn’t know how to feel the loss, he died so young, he died with so much life still to live, he died and left Sam to live his decades out alone. He was young.
It never registered, even back then, how young he was, and he’s sure that with every birthday he has going forward that feeling is only going to get worse.
He and Charlie spent the Halloween of their 21st year watching the clock in a similar way. Waiting for the moment they lived longer than the Potter’s did - Charlie's idea that Dean went along with without putting up a fight - and it felt like this did. A shock to the system, a race won that you hadn’t known you were running. The realization that they were barely adults and now you are there living past what they ever got to.
Except, this time, it’s him he outlived. He outlived himself. It’s different for Cas, or at least Dean thinks it is, because there was never that separation, that differentiation within Cas of his two lives because there was no distinct difference when it came to his knowledge and understanding of his old life - and therefore no disconnect from himself in that way. Cas’ disconnect came in another way but Cas has already outlived himself sorta… it’s hard for Dean to tell when technically Cas has only really been alive for a short time but still was resurrected at the age he died at. Either way, Cas never made a fuss about being older than his past self.
The clock reads 12:02 now, Cas is sitting behind him, arms wrapped around his middle and Dean can’t think of what to say. 27 isn't a big birthday milestone, there's no grand party waiting for him with cards that list his age or balloons or any of the hooplas that 30 or 50 gets but this birthday feels more momentous than any he’s had or will ever have. He just doesn’t know how to deal with that yet, so he just goes and grabs it all right by the horns.
“I’m older than he was,” he says into the stillness of the dark room.
“Who? - oh, yes I suppose you are,” Cas responds, dropping his chin against Dean’s shoulder and resting it there.
“You never loved me at 27 before, is it any different?” There's a fear there he can’t name, something brought forth from etches in his bones that whisper that Cas may never love him like he did Dean Wesson, shared memories be damned, years spent together be damned.
“Mhmm, no it’s not, I love you all the same. Maybe even a little more now. A little more love with every year we get together that we never got before. Also, I’m loving you right now, that counts as loving you at 27 doesn’t it?”
“Yeah, I guess it does.” He drops his head back against Cas’ shoulder, their cheeks brushing gently together with the ebb and flow of their breathing.
“Do you feel any different?” Cas asks lightly, tentatively, as though he knows Dean is struggling with this new reality.
“Outrageously so. But I couldn’t begin to tell you why. There's just this thought that he’s not there anymore, he doesn’t have any side-by-side memories now. I don’t have any memories anymore… I sorta got used to them always being there, following me through the things I experienced in real time. But now I’m going to do things and I won’t be able to think back to what I did before. He’s not felt so separate since before Dorthey and the manor and I don’t really know what to make of it.”
“You know you can mourn him Dean. That is allowed. You can mourn that loss of yourself. Grieve for the future you didn’t get before.”
“But why should I? I mean I’m here now, with you, Sam, Mom, Charlie, Kelly and Jack too even if they are thousands of miles away. I’m getting to live, I’m getting my future and Dean Wesson is getting it too because he’s me, I’m him. I just - he feels disjointed within me now and I want the peace back but I don’t know how I’ll ever manage to get it when from here on out Dean Wesson stops being there alongside Dean Winchester. I’m moving away from him and like everything that dies, he’s stuck perpetually at 26. He’s stuck and I have to leave him behind.”
Something thick coats his throat with the words, a darkness that seeps in and threatens to choke him if he’s not careful. Grief is such a finicky thing.
“You don’t have to Dean, same as you don’t have to leave your middle school self behind or your pre my resurrection self behind. It’s all you in there still. You get to pick what you carry with you for the rest of your life. If you don’t want to leave that part of yourself in your past, then don’t and keep it with you.”
Dean’s quiet for a while, thinking about a lot of shit, including how the hell Cas managed to get so good at this shit, because that little speech would put Dr. Phil to shame in an instant. But then of course Cas would probably have had to do the very thing he’s telling Dean now.
“Do you remember how we spent my first 25th birthday?” Dean asks.
“Hmm, I do, and I gotta say the frozen ass I got from the fence was completely worth it.”
Dean huffs a laugh into the darkness, picking his head up from Cas’ shoulder as he asks, “Do you think that for the first birthday he won’t have we could do that again? Fly back to Amherst, maybe see Kelly and Jack too?”
“Absolutely, but no smoking this time, even if I did get a rise out of you back then.”
“You bastard, I knew that was intentional!”
“You caught me,” Cas says, the phrase all but dripping in sarcasm. “Jack will be thrilled to see us again, Kelly too.”
He smiles picturing it. Cas playing with Jack, running around the backyard of the duplex Kelly bought only a year ago, smiles wide, Jack’s blonde hair sticking haphazardly out of his puffball touque, Cas’ hair tucked into a hat he’ll surely steal from Dean. Their joyful shouts echoing around them all. So like they used to all those years ago when Jack was barely five, and now he’s almost double digits and Dean can’t remember the years flying by until he looked back and they were already so securely in the rearview.
“I’m old now,” Dean says a little while later.
“If it makes you feel any better, regardless of what that fake ID you made says, my birth year is technically 1845 so… I’ve got you beat in the old age department.��
“Oh Cas, you don’t look a day over a hundred and twenty, you’re fine,” Dean jokes, Cas’ light mood rubbing off on him.
Dean gets a pinch to the ribs in retaliation and awards Cas an indignant squawk and a begrudgingly given laugh before he settles back against him, his eyes slipping closed though he wants not for sleep.
“What should we do now, I’m not particularly tired, and I feel certain in assuming that you aren’t either,” Cas murmurs lowly, breath dusting the shell of his ear soothingly.
“I dunno, maybe we should just keep sitting here,” Dean says, a memory playing behind his closed eyelids. In the heat of the room, frozen air bites at his skin just as it did back then.
Cas answers this time around, but instead of using words he pulls Dean in for a kiss - the second of his 27 birthday kisses - and within that press of lips Dean knows he remembers too.
Their skin pressed firmly together, neither move, their eyes kept forward, staring through the window at the still portrait of the winter stars.
#ags#a ghost story#destiel#destiel ficlet#my writing#ags ficlet#its my birthday and i am thinking about the sadness of birthdays no longer celebrated#valleydean#read the og story for real tho#you will not regret it
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hello, pumpkin || annie leonhardt x reader: chapter two
series masterlist
。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。..・。.・゜✭・.・✫
BIRTHDAY GIRL
Annie and I never established that we were friends until her eighth birthday.
In the blossoming spring warmth, I nestled myself in the corner of the bench in the playground’s garden. It was an unspoken fact that nobody really played in the garden; it was a quiet haven for a few of us to read or enjoy solitude, yet it had also become a spot where I waited for Annie every day, and almost every day, had she not been sent home or busy with other obligations, Annie joined me, sometimes speaking, sometimes not. I didn’t mind; I just loved to be in her company.
On this particular day, Annie stood before me, and despite her being the same height as me, her air always made her seem much bigger and powerful.
“My dad says this is for you.”
She handed me a white envelope into which I fervently tore, revealing a gaudy invitation card.
“It’s your birthday on Saturday?” I quizzed.
“No, my birthday is today. But my dad said it was too short notice to invite you to my house today, so you can come on Saturday.”
At this news of Annie’s birthday, I immediately leapt to my feet and braced her in a hug. “Happy birthday! What cake are you having? Are you going to hand out sweets to your class?”
Annie did not hug me back but did not resist. “I don’t like cake, and I don’t like anyone in my class.”
I gasped. “How can you not like cake? Also, who’s going to be at your party if you don’t like anyone in your class?”
“Cake is too heavy and sweet.” She responded monotonously. “Also, you’re the only one coming; it’s not a party, my dad just knows I have a friend now and wanted you to come. You don’t have to.”
Unlike Annie, I didn’t actively avoid the other children in my school. I was still invited to many class birthday parties, I spoke amiably to my peers and I could name a few schoolchildren whom I could consider a friend— yet Annie, the stoic, ash-blonde girl confessing she saw me as a friend elicit such joy within me, I can still remember the feeling to this day if I think about her enough.
“So if I’m your friend, I have to get you a present, right?” I had reminded her of the title that she gave me moments ago.
“No. I don’t want a present.”
“Yes you do, everyone wants presents!” I retorted. “What do you like best in the world?”
“Cats.”
I sat down, sulking. “I can’t get you a cat, Annie. What else do you like?”
Silence.
“Mummy and I can make you something.” I continued, desperate to find something that I could give to my friend. “She’s really good at baking. Do you like cookies?”
“No.”
“Cupcakes?” I refused to give up.
“No! Cupcakes are tiny cakes, you know I hate cakes.”
“Brownies?”
“No.”
“Doughnuts?”
This time, Annie turned away, not meeting the question with a monosyllabic “no”.
“Doughnuts! Annie, I’ll make you lots of doughnuts, okay?”
Annie still refused to look me in the eye. It never bothered me, but I had gathered that she was more inclined to refuse eye contact when she was upset or shy. Before I had the chance to attempt to pry into which flavour of doughnut she would have liked, the bell signalling the end of recess rang. I leapt to my feet and pressed a chaste kiss to Annie's cheek.
“See you later, you doughnut!”
She shoved me towards my line with no malice in the action. “Whatever you say, pumpkin girl.”
“Earth to (y/n)? You’ve been glazed over for the past five minutes. What’s so exciting about the window?”
I blink, snapping out of the saccharine memory of Annie’s birthday. Four pairs of eyes are fixed on me, and I animate myself, taking the doughnut from my plate and shrugging. “I was just thinking,” I respond.
“You sure? Not looking at any hot dudes?” the only other female at the table, Sasha, suggests. Her hazel eyes flicker suggestively over to the group of men kicking a ball about in the park over the road from our favourite local café, which has baked goods to die for (or so Sasha and Connie, the food fanatics of my friendship group claim. I won’t argue—the doughnuts are heavenly.)
“Yeah, c’mon, (y/n)! There are three dashing fellows right here, why do you need to stare at those losers?” Connie chimes in, gesturing to himself and my other two male friends, Jean and Marco.
“Yeah, you wish. My type isn’t idiots,” I playfully smack Connie’s head, the growing stubble brushing my fingertips as I find any way to bring the subjects away from men that I would apparently find attractive.
“On all seriousness, what is your type? We’ve never seen you have anyone about.” Jean interrogates. Great.
It took me a while to figure out that I’m likely not into men. I never quite knew why I got so uncomfortable when middle school brought an array of boy bands that prepubescent teenage girls loved to swoon over, and why I could never answer when somebody asked me who was the hottest, but at the age of sixteen, when I realised my heart was racing upon seeing two women kiss in a film my friends and I had watched, it hit me like a freight train that I was definitely attracted to women.
I chose not to indulge anyone in this knowledge; realistically, I know I don’t have too much to worry about. Sure, my parents aren’t screaming about supporting gay rights from the rooftops, but I know that they have no prejudice towards the community, and my four closest friends would accept me no matter what — hell, Marco told us he was gay when we were fifteen and sixteen years old over a game of Mario Kart and we embraced his queerness with open arms.
So what’s the big deal? I think to myself.
“Does it matter? I’m too busy to date. These university decisions are killing me!”
“Simple,” Jean interrupts, pointing the straw of his ridiculously large iced coffee in my direction. “You come to Marley with Marco and me. Good university, far enough away from your parents, and you get your favourite friends with you for the ride!”
Jean and Marco are one class above Sasha, Connie and I, and decided that Marley University, a small, public school that gained a decent reputation despite it being so new, was the place for them. It was hard to say goodbye once they left school, but the holiday breaks came frequently, and soon enough, they were back for Easter, helping their three younger friends decide on which school to go to.
“Tempting, but probably not. I can’t get over the English department in Sina,” I responded dreamily.
“Yeah, and the crazy entry requirements. You’d have to be a robot to get those grades! Just come to Marley with us, I’m sure the English stuff is fine there, too!” Sasha whined, poking at my hand. I take another bite of my nostalgic treat, shaking my head.
“Guys, I love you all, but I can’t make such an important decision based on my friends. You understand, right?”
“It’s fine, (y/n),” Marco interrupts, his familiar comforting smile gracing his freckled face. “We’ll come to visit you up there, right?”
“Nope. Four of us, one of you. She is coming to Marley.” Jean retorts.
“Jesus, fair enough. I’ll book the plane tickets now!” I tell him sardonically. He elbows me jovially in response and stands, coffee in hand. “Right, we can finish our drinks and snacks on the way outside. It's too nice to be spending it indoors.”
Ignoring the protests from Sasha and Connie, who forlornly protest that they haven't had the chance to order a baked good after their main courses, the majority of the group tail towards the double doors, leaving the duo no choice but to begrudgingly follow suit. The late March sunshine is glorious, beaming down on my face, much like the day twelve years ago I was daydreaming about. It suddenly hit me that today, March 22nd, Annie would be turning twenty years old. This newfound knowledge makes my stomach drop and I cannot control the grief coursing through my being.
It's ever so odd how I can remember every detail about my childhood friend; every memory we shared together, her favourite colour, (black, which I insisted was rather morbid for an eight-year-old, so I coaxed her into putting blue as a second favourite) how on Sunday mornings her father would always pick her up from my house after a sleepover at 10 am sharp to take her to karate, even though she had told me in confidence that she much preferred kickboxing. I couldn't tell you many facts about any other childhood friend who I lost to time; it's only Annie. Every detail of the girl who made my infancy etched into my heart, refusing to leave.
As I force myself back into the present moment, I am aware that maybe Annie was more than just my best friend.
But I was so young. How could I have truly differentiated between innocuous childhood affection and romantic yearning?
“Marco?” I punctuate the spring silence before I can even stop myself. “How did you realise your first crush?”
Marco raises his eyebrows. “Jeez, it was so long ago. I was eleven and I was having a sleepover with my friend. We were on his bed playing Minecraft on his laptop, but I wasn’t even paying attention; I was just admiring his face, how he was so engrossed in the game. My heart was racing because I realised I wanted to kiss him, but I didn’t even think it was biologically possible to like the same sex, so I brushed it off. Now I look back…” he laughs awkwardly, before looking me in the eye, his tone suddenly earnest. “Why, what’s up? Anything you want to talk to me about?”
I stop in the street, completely oblivious to the speed of modern day life around me. Suddenly all I care about is how my stomach leapt when I saw her pallid figure walk through the double doors, into the garden, how I found any excuse to hold her hand, how obsessed I was with the topography of her curved nose, icy eyes, lips stark against her pale skin.
“How do you know for sure you’re gay if you’ve only ever had a crush on one person in your life? Somebody who you haven’t spoken to in eight years?”
。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。..・。.・゜✭・.・✫
#annie leonhardt#snk annie#annie leonhart headcanons#annie leonhart imagine#annie leonhardt headcanons#annie leonhardt x reader#annie leonhardt imagine#aot annie#annie x reader#annie#snk modern au#snk headcanons#snk x you#snk x reader#snk x y/n#aot x reader#aot x you#aot x y/n#aot headcanons#aot modern au#annie leonhart x reader#annie leonhart x you#annie leonhart x y/n#snk fanfiction#snk fic#aot fic#attack on titan#shingeki no kyojin#marco bodt#jean kirschstein
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Puppy Dog Tails
Just some tooth-rotting seblos fluff! Future fic based off this post. I hope you like it, @redmeanslove
Summary: Seb comes home with a surprise (also read on AO3)
Carlos stood in his kitchen, stirring a mug of hot tea with honey and lemon. Outside, snow was falling, rapidly turning New York City into a winter wonderland, though it was mid-January, so most people were sick of it, especially in the city. Not Carlos, though. Winter was his favorite season (dry skin and chapped lips notwithstanding). The snow reminded him of Salt Lake, and kept him from getting too homesick. Not that he didn’t love his life in New York, but Salt Lake would always be home, no matter how long he spent chasing his Broadway dreams.
He was close to achieving them, too. His choreography had already been nominated for a Tony once, and while this year he was between shows, he had a good feeling about the projects he had in the works, most notably an original show currently in workshops, which meant most of his work was yet to come. In the meantime, he was focused on supporting his boyfriend—soon to be fiancé, if he had anything to say about it—who was currently the star of a genderbent production of Legally Blonde. Carlos couldn’t have been prouder, even if it meant days like these, spent alone in their apartment. Seb had left an hour ago and Carlos had already skimmed through his notes and sent an email to his director about a new routine.
He sipped his tea slowly and sighed. He knew he had things to do, dance routines to practice and more emails to send, and honestly laundry to wash, but he couldn’t bring himself to do any of it. Instead he moved from the kitchenette to the living room, and settled on the couch with his favorite blanket--the one Seb’s mom had gifted them when they first moved into this apartment. It was wool (sheep’s wool from the farm, not cashmere, obviously) and it was thick and warm and it reminded Carlos of home because somewhere along the way he started thinking of the Matthew-Smith’s farm and home as a little bit his. Also, it smelled like Seb always did when they were back in Salt Lake and he was spending time on the farm, sort of earthy and sweet.
Carlos was pulled from his thoughts by the high pitched tone of his text alerts. He set his tea down on the coffee table and pulled out his phone.
New Message From Seb 🥰💖: Guess who’s coming home early?
Message Sent: What? Why?
New Message From Seb 🥰💖: Check your weather app, sweetheart. The storm’s getting worse, our shows are cancelled today so nobody ends up snowed in at the theatre.
Message Sent : OMG
Message Sent: Get home safe!
New Message From Seb 🥰💖: I will
New Message From Seb 🥰💖: Love you!
Message Sent: Love you too!
He set his phone down, and picked up his tea again, though he could barely wipe the smile off his face long enough to take a drink. He knew that Seb would be unhappy about missing a day of work, but he couldn’t help but be excited to spend some extra time with his partner, especially if they had to huddle for warmth. With that thought in mind, he flicked on the TV and began scrolling through their Netflix library, looking for something for them to watch.
45 minutes later, Carlos’s unfinished tea had gone cold on the table, and he had queued up Schitt’s Creek, a show they’d already watched multiple times, and that happened to be one of Seb’s all time favorites. He checked his phone, but there were no new texts from Seb. He frowned. Seb should’ve been home by then.
Message Sent: You almost home?
New Message From Seb 🥰💖: Coming up the stairs now!
Carlos grinned (and sighed in relief that his boyfriend wasn’t stuck out in the snow somewhere freezing to death). He picked up his mug and headed back to the kitchenette to dump out the rest of his tea. No sooner did he set the dish on the drying rack than he heard the door open, followed by some shuffling and grunting.
Wait-- Grunting?
Carlos peaked around the corner to see Seb closing the door behind him while holding a large cardboard box with one arm. Well, this was going to be good.
“Whatcha got there?” Carlos asked, in lieu of a proper greeting.
Seb looked up with a wide smile, cheeks and nose pink from the cold, snowflakes starting to melt in his hair. “What would you say if I brought home six puppies?”
Carlos eyed the box. “What’s in the box?”
Seb didn’t say anything, but a whining sound came from the box.
Carlos put a hand on his hip. “What’s in the box, Seb?”
Seb sighed. “I think you know.”
One of the puppies whined again, prompting Seb to set the box down and pull her out. She was brown, with big eyes and floppy ears, some kind of labrador mix, if Carlos had to guess. “Shhh, it’s okay,” Seb was saying, soothingly, petting the top of her tiny head.
“I want to be mad, but you’re so cute,” Carlos shook his head.
Seb grinned. “Come say ‘hi’ to Anne Boleyn.”
“You named them already?” Carlos rolled his eyes. He’d never met anyone who loved animals as much as Seb did. “Of course you did.”
Seb just stepped forward and deposited the puppy into Carlos’s arms. She squirmed adorably. Seb bent down and started taking the rest of the puppies out of the box. They all looked about the same as Anne Boleyn. Brown and floppy and soft, somehow though Seb was able to differentiate between each one.
“This is Catherine of Aragon and Jane Seymour and--”
“Did you name them after the cast of Six?”
Seb shrugged. “Well, there’s six of them, it makes sense.”
Carlos raised an eyebrow. “And are they all girls?”
“Gender is a outdated social construct that dogs aren't restricted by,” Seb chirped happily. “But if you’re asking if they’re all female, the answer is no."
“Fair enough.” Carlos looked down at the puppy in his arms. She looked up at him with big brown eyes. “So, how did this happen?”
“I found them on the street!” Seb’s tone turned grave. “Someone had just left them out to freeze in the snow! I had to save them!”
“Wow,” Carlos’s eyes went wide. “That’s awful.”
“I know we can’t keep them,” Seb continued. “But I figured we could take care of them until the weather improves a bit and then we can take them to the animal shelter.”
Carlos nodded. “Sure.” Anne Boleyn chose that moment to lick Carlos’s glasses, pushing them part way off his face. “But they’re your problem.”
Seb giggled. “C’mon, she loves you!”
“If you say so,” Carlos pouted. “Not exactly the kiss I was hoping for.”
“Oh?” Seb grinned. “What kind of kiss were you hoping for?” He leaned in, stopping short of actually connecting their lips so he could fix Carlos’s glasses. “Maybe something like this?”
They kiss with Anne Boleyn squished slightly between their chests. Even after all these years it still makes Carlos’s heart race and warmth flood his body, all the way down to his toes.
“You do know,” he started, pulling back abruptly, “that you can’t convince me to let you keep one just by kissing me, right?”
“Well,” Seb smirked. “I could do more than kiss you.”
Carlos patted his cheek. “Not with six sets of eyes watching you can’t.”
Seb’s smirk turned into a pout. “Can’t we just keep one? I think Anne Boleyn really likes you.”
“Anne Boleyn is adorable, but do you really think she would be happy living in our studio apartment?” Carlos shook his head.
“Yeah,” Seb sighed. “You’re right.”
“Hey,” Carlos poked his partner’s arm. “Someday, after we’ve won a bunch of Tony awards, and we’re ready to retire from Broadway, we can move out of the city, to a big house somewhere and get all the dogs you want.”
Seb looked up hopefully. “Yeah?”
“Absolutely.” It was an easy promise to make. “I always thought we might end up moving back to Salt Lake eventually.”
“Oh, you’ve thought about our retirement, have you?” Seb grinned. “You don’t think you’ll be sick of me by then?”
Carlos flushed. “Never.” He thought about the engagement ring sitting in his sock drawer, the words Marry Me hanging off the tip of his tongue. He swallowed them. “Impossible.”
“I’ll never get sick of you, either,” Seb pressed a kiss to his cheek. “And I love that you’ve been imagining us retiring to the farm someday.”
“I never said--”
“It was implied,” Seb’s grin didn’t falter. “I’ve gotten pretty good at deciphering your riddles after all these years.”
Carlos couldn’t argue with that, because Seb was obviously right, and a part of Carlos wanted to be annoyed that Seb saw through him so easily, but most of him just felt warm all over. “I love you a lot, Seb Matthew-Smith.”
“I know.” Seb’s voice was soft and overflowing with fondness. “I love you a lot, too.”
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virtue of humility [choi seungcheol]
“humility /(h)yo͞oˈmilədē/ — a modest or low view of one's own importance; humbleness.”
LUCKY 7′S MASTERLIST
PAIRING | prince! choi seungcheol x musician! reader (f)
GENRE | royal! au, romance, fluff
WARNINGS | none <3
WORD COUNT | 4.8k
a/n: hello!! :> my pieces for the collab are a little different from lila and gina’s because i went for a more thematic approach. nevertheless, i hope you’ll still enjoy <33 also the language is a lil oldsey-timesey HJSHF just a heads up HAHA
Prince Seungcheol had never thought of the glimmer of the crown perched on his head as something more significant than an accessory. Though bearing an extra weight with the dazzles of its heavy ruby and sapphire embellishments, it felt as if it wasn’t even there. But for most of his waking hours, the prince would resign from wearing it— head barren from the symbol of his nobility.
“But you’re the prince,” his Royal Advisor, Jeonghan, had once said. “What service will your people owe to you when they know not who to serve?”
“Is it not the prince's duty to serve? To meet the needs of his people?” a smile plastered on his lips, Seungcheol answered, pushing the golden wreath back into his advisors hands. “I am a servant just as I am a prince. There is no need for grandeurs such as these.”
Jeonghan had never roused the same question again.
The same could be said today; strolling over the family of large rocks beside the crystal stream, Seungcheol gleamed as the wind brushed like whispered breaths through his hair, uncovered by the weight of his crown. He eyed a school of silver fishes swimming against the light current of water, crouching down on the rough stone to look at them closely. A content sigh breezed past his lips, and he dipped two fingers on the water’s clean surface, the sudden cold kissing his fingertips sending a slight shiver down his spine. There was no one else around the stream— Seungcheol would know since he spends almost every other day in solitude here.
He liked being in the palace. He liked being around the people he loved, and those who loved him just as much. But Seungcheol also liked being alone from time to time.
Although it seemed that he wasn’t alone. The faint, but definite sound of singing was telling him so.
It was far. But despite the distance, Seungcheol noticed someone— the silhouette of what appeared to be a lady sitting atop the identical looking clump of rocks in front of the same stream he was in front of, only opposite from where Seungcheol was. It was either his curiosity or the sweetness of the voice’s notes beckoning him to move closer, but when he was halfway there, he concluded that it was a mixture of both.
Seungcheol found it unusual for anyone other than himself to be here. It was unspoken, but all the residents of the Northern Empire’s village knew that the prince frequented this spot, and therefore they all stayed away out of respect for his peace. It was a shame, really. Prince Seungcheol would have welcomed any other presence outside of his into his supposed private hideout. Therefore the appearance of the mysterious girl was a sort of shooting star for him— a brief flash of bubbling hope that you’d have to quickly grasp before it disappears once more.
And so he moved at a quicker pace to catch you.
You, on the other hand, were sitting peacefully on top of the hard, grey, rock, the hem of your skirt barely fluttering over the stream’s mouth as your legs were stretched over the tough surface. The echoes of your singing were fairly silent— though apparently that wasn’t the case seeing that you were loud enough for someone to approach you, and you immediately closed your mouth shut.
“Why did you stop? Are you not comfortable with eyes watching you as you sing?”
“I am not comfortable with a stranger’s eyes watching me. It does not matter whether I sing or not,” the man smiled at you— an apologetic smile, and he respected your wishes as he did not dare to close the distance of the stream that separated you both.
“I apologize for making you uncomfortable,” he said, propping himself down on the rocky surface. “But it is rare to have someone other than myself to be here. I would like to make your acquaintance, if you may.”
You eyed him suspiciously, and you could tell that he noticed your distrust because he shot you the most charming display of a smile that anyone has ever sent you. “Do you own this area? I’m not trespassing, am I?” you pressed, and it took him a few moments of silence before he responded.
“Well yes, I suppose,” he answered, and there was a flash of panic running through you upon realizing that you had just wandered into this man’s property without his prior knowledge. You were lucky that he seemed to be forgiving. “Though, I’m always willing to share. That is if you share something of yours, as well.”
To share? You had nothing to share even if you wanted to.
“What could I possibly share with you?” your brows furrowed. “You noticed me from as far as dozens of spaces away, yet upclose you cannot seem to see that I am empty handed.”
If he wanted you to leave, he could have just said so. But he also said that he wanted to make your acquaintance, so what were you to take out of it? He wanted you to stay but for you to stay you had to give. But he knew and could see that you had nothing to give, so what could he want?
“Your name.”
He said. The stray kisses of the sun's rays served as a transparent crown of gold above his head as he uttered his sentiments with a blinding smile. “You can share with me your name.”
That was none of what I expected, you thought, pressing your lips together in a tight line to mask even a sliver of your amusement, but it would only take one quick glance for anyone to notice the smile trying to fight its way into your face. To be frank, you weren't aware of what you were expecting— but you had assumed that you would be staying here for much longer. It appeared that it wasn't the case anymore. He knew how to impress you, but you had cards of your own. “But that would mean that you’d have to share your name, too. And I’d have nothing else to give after that.”
There was silence that occupied, but with the unrelenting nature of his smile, you could only assume that he was unbothered by your challenge. You continued to look at him from across the stream, the rippling of its waters flooding into your ears before he finally decided to speak,
“I will be giving you my name for free,” his tone mimicked that of the running water— calm, gentle. Without a trace of impurity in its crystal clear vulnerability. “So there is no need for you to remain at an unease.”
The nameless man stood from the slippery edge, blocking the sun away and it looked as if he, himself, was the blazing sun. The dimples on his cheeks— details that you have overlooked before and had only been captured by your eyes now— made a shy appearance in accordance with the upturn of his mouth’s corners.
“Seungcheol.”
“Y/N.”
He took this as an invitation to finally be allowed to cross the stream, and so he did, the water sloshing around his ankles as he pushed forward. It wasn’t too deep, thankfully, and only the bottom part of his dark trousers were drenched. Seungcheol positioned himself beside you, far enough not to invade your comfort, but close enough for you to feel his serene presence. “Is it alright for me to ask a question?” You nodded, urging him. “Are you from the Southern Empire, perhaps?”
Your brows raised. Huh, he was quick to notice that you were a foreigner. There were no physical distinctions that differentiated those from the Northern Empire, where you were right now, and the Southern Empire, where you actually lived. Maybe Seungcheol was familiar with those living around, and he thought that you looked unfamiliar. “Yes. How did you know?”
“You don’t seem like you’re from here.”
To Seungcheol, there were a few telltales indicating that you lived from the opposite land. One, you didn’t know that people tend to steer away from this place. And two— it didn’t look like you were aware that he was the prince. (This was why he hesitated in answering your question earlier. Technically, this was public property, but technically it was his, as well).
There wasn’t a need for him to tell you now, though. It wasn’t of importance, anyway.
“What brings you here, Y/N? Are you on a visit?”
“Half visit, I suppose,” you answered, and Seungcheol quirks a brow at this. “Half for an event.”
“An event? Is it the ball to be held at the palace this weekend?”
“Yes, that exactly,” you adjusted your sitting position, folding your legs as you looked at nowhere in particular in the midst of your thought. “I was lucky enough to be one few chosen by the music academy I’m in to play with the Northern ensemble. But of course I wouldn’t want to miss the chance to take a peek of the foreign empires sceneries.”
A grin was plastered on your face when you turned to look at the boy beside you, and it appeared that he was mirroring your expression. “I’ll be there, as well. Would that mean I’d be graced by the chance to hear you sing again?”
You lapsed, visibly flushed at his inquiry and you sat yourself straight as you were suddenly flooded by the realization that the reason he had found you was because of your singing.
“A-absolutely not," you stammered. "I play the violin.”
“Ah, I see,” he didn’t put an effort to mask his disappointment, and it wasn’t of any help to your already racing heart. You weren’t one to let just anyone to hear you sing— it was embarrassing. Yet this boy who you had just met today had already driven himself past your sphere of comfort, but you still found yourself just brushing it away, locking it away to someplace you’ll never find, just so the shame won’t be able to meet the light of day once again.
Seungcheol took note of your silence and he felt as if he were the cause of it. Fearing that he might end up chasing away a possible friend, he resorted to making conversation on a different topic, instead. “I heard that there were an abundance of herbs and spices in the North.”
You lightened up at this, relieved that he took a different route, and Seungcheol felt mirth tugging at his cheeks at your reaction. “Mhm. Is it not the case here?”
He shook his head. “Mining is the biggest industry here. We acquire all our herbs from yours.”
The sun was slowly rising higher into the sky, in sync with the prickling temperature. Though beside the stream, the breeze was crisp, cool kisses against your skin as you and Seungcheol talked the day away until it was already around lunch time and the morning's heat had finally made aware of its presence. And it also made you aware of the schedule you had for the remaining afternoon.
“Oh! How stupid of me to forget— ah!” in your rush to stand, you clumsily lost your footing on the slippery rock, the body of water inviting your immediate fall. But it never came, as Seungcheol was quick enough to catch you by the waist, pulling you into him in one swift motion.
It was the second time that you had buried your shame.
“Careful now,” he retracted his hold from you when you had finally caught your balance, the ghost of his touch sizzling amidst the sun’s heat. You stared at him, flustered, and he gave you a kind stretch of his lips. “You may be in a hurry, but it would be fruitless if you only end up soaking wet.”
“At least I’d be cool underneath this angry sun,” you reasoned, though still a bit dazed from the earlier rush. “Thank you.”
Seungcheol nodded a smile at you, steadily guiding your posture as you carefully puddled into the brook, feeling the cold water on your ankles when you did. He did not remove his gentle touch on your shoulders, nor did he keep his eyes off you even when you have finally crossed the waters, and you found yourself stirring— tides crashing harder than that of the stream. He only let go when the presence of the rocks were nowhere to be found anymore.
“May I ask what brings you in such a rush?”
The village was now in your short view, though you were still shielded by the barrier of birch trees lining the outside of the rural area. You were supposed to be at your temporary housing at around thirty.
“Practice,” you answered. "The ball is a mere seven days away.”
Seungcheol nodded at your sparing response. “I’ll be seeing you by then. Or perhaps tomorrow? That is If willing to keep me company again. It does get rather lonely with nothing but the fishes accompanying me. They aren't chatty fellows.”
The soft sound of your laughter was all he heard. You smiled at him, a smile that weighed heavier than his crown and he found his chest squeezing at the pressure.
“I’ll see you tomorrow, Seungcheol.”
A week melted into days and days melted into minutes into seconds until you found yourself within the vicinity of your fellow musicians inside the blue haze of the Diamond Palace’s ballroom. The large hall mimicked that of a watery stream with the crystal linings of its walls, and the flooding bodies of the numerous visitors beamed like swimming sea creatures. You had not yet seen Seungcheol as of late, even though he promised that you’d meet once more today, for tomorrow was your day of departure.
Racing eyes accompanied by your racing heart moved in beats of impatience as you scanned the façade of water, only to leave you unsatisfied from the lack of his presence. You’ve only spent days with him— yet those days were enough to concur a sweetened taste of mutual longing.
On your second day, Seungcheol showed you a field of flowers a few strolls past the familiar stream. The third day ended with a rapid flurry of conversations about everything and nothing at the same time, and it resulted with you running late for your practice. It was all worth it, though, because it was also on that day that you had found out that Seungcheol hosted the most modest of souls out of all the empires. You accompanied him at the marketplace after you spent hours by the stream, and you witnessed him silently helping the vendors in small, simple ways without even whispering a word. On day four you’d gotten even closer. A stranger no longer was he. And on day five you felt the first of many butterflies swarming inside your stomach, and since then you had lost it.
You shared your first kiss on the sixth day, and the seventh ended with another.
It was quick, you had to admit. And it will end too quickly for your liking. Perhaps that was why the days felt like pages flipping through the thinnest book on the shelf, or a winter solstice in the middle of summer that has prolonged its visit for six days more. Though, you were determined to see him once again this evening, even if it took until the last warning of the ballroom’s final lit torch.
“Y/N, is your mind elsewhere? The ball is starting and we are to get in position at once. Hurry up,” the ushering voice of your companion, Jihye, was like the chirping of an annoying swallow that you wished to die down. Indeed, this opportunity to play for the Royal Family was an honor. But as you moved along with your travels across the empires, so had your priorities as they have shifted from the south to the north.
However, you didn’t want to cause any trouble— especially if it was only because of the selfishness of your desires. So with a disheartened sigh, you picked up your stringed instrument and melted into the orchestra as you waited for the Noble’s entrance.
It was difficult to fiddle with the violin when your heart was elsewhere, but you had to will yourself to focus so as to not bring shame to your academy’s name. You straightened your posture and positioned the instrument, and you maneuvered the bow in the same manner as you had tirelessly practiced for weeks. For a while, you had managed to rid yourself from the ghosting thoughts of Seungcheol.
That is until the Emperor, Empress, and Prince finally descended down the grand staircase, and the familiar swarm of butterflies fizzled into your chest— untamed and unforgiving as they drowned what semblance of peace you had managed to belatedly hold on to.
You had been aching to see Seungcheol’s face tonight, but this was none of what you had expected.
“Gracing before us, the heart of the Northern Empire— the Imperial Family!”
It was as if you were stricken by Cupid’s merciless arrows ten times over because only one was clearly not enough. Everyone around you had fallen their heads in a respectful bow, yet you still stood staring at the Prince in such a spell-bound daze until Jihye pulled you down with her like a ragdoll.
You couldn’t believe it.
Seungcheol and the Prince of the North were one and the same.
Were you mistaken? Did he not care for you enough to tell you that he was the actual heir to the Empire's throne? You raised your head upon sensing the movements of the people around you, but you were a beat behind since you still hadn’t recovered from the befuddlement inflicted on your senses. You were lucky enough to only be playing along one piece for tonight’s ball, else your performance would have been a disaster. Having managed to finish the piece with minor mistakes was a miracle in itself, but that’s where your miracles would end.
Because the moment the last note came to an end, the moment you were about to step down from the elevated stage along with your companions, you had noticed Seungcheol staring right at you.
He was smiling.
And the butterflies were almost impossible to contain.
You felt someone tugging at your arm, insisting you to leave, and so you reluctantly did— but not without sparing one last glance at Seungcheol, sitting high and mighty on his golden throne. He looked different, completely different from the boy the stream who you fleetingly fell for. But it was him all the same. His gorgeous smile telling you. You hoped that it wasn’t your mind playing tricks on you when you noticed his smile melting into a sad puddle of a frown when you finally left.
“Is that the prince circling amongst the crowd?”.
“What?”
Jihye whispered from beside you as you rushed to the buffet, and you quickly snapped your head back to confirm, and your eyes were met with the familiar gaze of the ones you’d get lost into for hours on end. He shot you a grin upon eye contact, and you felt yourself starting to get dizzy.
It was him. Despite the barrage of bodies between you, you could immediately tell which pretty eyes were his.
Did he forget that he was the prince?! You saw him trying to chase after you, but you firmly shook your head as Jihye dragged you away, the distance between you stretching farther and farther. He looked confused, baffled in a frozen stance when you motioned to push him away. But he was the prince. No matter how you felt, no matter how desperately you wanted to be held in his arms and be swept by his lips on yours, he can’t be seen with you. You were beneath him, after all.
“Y/N, would you please hurry? Heavens, girl, what has gotten into you tonight?”
You couldn’t be seen with him.
“My apologies, Jihye, but I haven’t been feeling well since earlier,” you said. “I’ll resign to bed early tonight.”
Not with the lingering eyes of everyone in the ballroom.
“Oh dear, you better get some rest, Y/N. I’ll tell everyone else that you left early.”
You could only hope that Seungcheol understood the same.
The stream sparkled under the moonlight, as if the waters were littered with iridescent beads of glitter, swimming alongside the silver fishes that inhabited it. You carefully maneuvered over the rocky ground, hands gripping the fabric of your dress skirts upwards so you won’t trip over them and fall into the cold water. Seungcheol wasn’t here to catch you like last time.
You were still lost because of the information that you had belatedly found out, and you weren’t even given the chance to let it all simmer. Seungcheol was the prince of the Northern Empire¾ that you knew. Why he didn’t even give you the slightest hint about the significance of his identity that you didn’t know. And you were determined to find out before you took you leave tomorrow.
That is if he showed up tonight.
Words weren’t exchanged between the both of you, but maybe he understood the message that you tried to relay just by the look of your eyes The ball wasn’t to end until an hour or two, so you had a long time to lie in wait, sitting atop the clump of stones as you gazed down at your reflection on the water, the moon peeking behind your presence.
Though, you underestimated the prince. Because it hadn’t even been ten when he showed himself before you across the stream.
“Why did you depart so early without even allowing me to spend a second near your presence?” his voice held the sound of hurt, and it made you feel guilty almost. Seungcheol hurriedly dip his ankles into the stream, racing across it to get to you as if you would slip away if he were a second too late. You helped him up the harsh surface, and the first thing he did was caress your cold cheek with the warmth of his hand, fingers blazing like the sun’s rays as you felt them brushing against your skin. There was a pout on his lips when he spoke. “Had I done something wrong?”
You held his wrist with your hands, bringing them down but you didn’t let go of him, and then with a soft voice, you asked. “Why didn’t you tell me you were the prince?”
“I—” he was taken aback at your question, brows raised in surprise with the subtle pursing of his lips ever so evident. “I didn't think it was necessary.”
“You didn’t think it was necessary? Seung— Your Highness, that's the same as keeping your entire self from me,” you tried to let go of his hand, but he immediately snatched them back, intertwining your fingers into his once more without ever the intention of letting you go. Seungcheol was upset. He was upset because you didn’t call him by his given name. He was upset that you’re trying to make things change.
He was upset because he didn’t understand why the idea of him being the prince seemed so important to you.
“But I never kept myself from you, Y/N,” he reasoned, brows furrowed in frustration. “I may be the prince but that is only a title. More than anything else, I am Seungcheol.”
You stared at him, his eyes containing all the stars in the night sky, pleading for the night to stay longer as tomorrow meant seeing you no longer. His lips, so pretty and red against his glowing skin, tugged down in a tight frown that you oh so desperately wanted to kiss away.
“It pained me when you pushed me away earlier,” he muttered, a release of melancholic laughter stringing behind it. “Did you have a change of heart after a single instance?”
You narrowed your eyes at him, offended by his ridiculous assumption. “Do you know how people would react if they see the prince with a mere musician? I pushed you away because it was the right thing to do. Not because I wanted to.”
“Is it right to be dishonest?”
“That is not the point!” you weren’t able to cease the unprecedented elevation of your voice, but then you quickly slammed your fingers over your lips. Seungcheol noticed your gestures, only furrowing the heaviness he was feeling even further. “Please do not humble yourself for me, Your Highness. Do you not hold any importance to your title at all?”
“No.”
It was an immediate response. A response that carried neither regret nor hesitation— only sheer and sincere honesty. Though you stood before him, he looked at you as if you were so far away, yearning for you. “Prince or not, my heart remains the same. I still would have kissed you on the sixth.”
You weren’t prepared for his bold confession. Not at all because you found yourself slipping away from your presence of mind, an influx of emotions clogging your throat as you refused to meet his eye. Seungcheol lightly chuckled at your abashment, him ghosting his fingers underneath your chin so you would look at him. “Is there something wrong?” despite the worried tone of his question, a belated smile stretched on his face. He was mildly delighted seeing your flustered stance.
“You are the prince, Your Highness. Yet you treat me as though I were a goddess,” your eyes were wilting, apologetic under his presence. You brushed away his gentle hold, the warmth of his grazing touch disappearing as you did. “I don’t believe I deserve this, Your Highness. I don't deserve to be in your presence— much less to share a kiss with you.”
“Nonsense. You are deserving for the fact that it is what you and I both want. Why? Do you not want to kiss me?”
“You are impossible,” you breathed out amidst the brandishing of your nerves. “What would your parents say about this?”
“Nothing,” he simply stated. “They might have dictated my future, but they do not dictate how my heart feels.”
It felt as if the two of you were pushing and pulling back and forth for hours. It was mostly due to your own stubbornness, honestly. It wasn’t as if you didn’t want him. It wasn’t easy to mask something as wild and torrid as a stormy typhoon. You were trying your best because it was what you were supposed to do, but deep down you knew that one word from him would be enough to have you releasing your desperately, weakly, suppressed emotions.
“And my heart feels for you, Y/N.”
This wasn’t fair. He wasn’t fair. What chance did you have when it was he who was rendering you defenseless? You stared at Seungcheol, incredulous and so, so lost for him all the same. He was expectant of your response— you could tell from the way he looked at you with hopeful eyes which made you willing to forget that he was the prince because he was right. It didn’t matter. Not at all.
You sighed, rolling your eyes, and you took a single step closer towards him over the rough surface of the rocks.
“Does your offer for a kiss still stand?” you mused. “Or am I a second too late?”
Seungcheol’s eyes fluttered, both from surprise and from the fleeting feeling of delight. “You’re never too late,: he smiled at you, gaze pooling the drops of the moon’s light— endless, as if you could get lost in them. You leaned in. feeling the warmth of his breath tickling the skin on your face like invisible, teasing kisses. There was a lapse of hesitation running through you because was it alright for you to just have him right here and now? He didn’t seem to be protesting.
You were only seconds away from finally getting a taste of him, but he suddenly backed away at the last moment.
“But then you did waste a fair amount of time,” he wore a pondering pout on his lips, and stared at him wide eyed. But then he met your eyes with his dimpled grin blooming on his features. “Maybe you should make up for it by singing to me one last time before your departure.”
You rolled your eyes at him, dismissing the prince’s proposal. Instead you quickly grabbed the expensive fabric of his collar, pulling him towards you in a sudden motion, and snatched a swift kiss from his unguarded lips.
“The night is long, my prince,” you hummed. You weren’t sure why you were hesitant to be truthful to yourself earlier— it wasn't like anything had changed after all. The smile on Seungcheol’s face was still the same as the one you saw that morning. “Blackbirds won’t be singing until a few hours.”
“But you will sing for me now, won’t you?” he asked, a hopeful glimmer in his eyes.
You couldn’t help your lips from stretching into a wide grin. “It is only fair for me to do so.”
#lucky 7's#caratwritersclub#choi seungcheol#choi seungcheol x reader#seungcheol x reader#seventeen x reader#seventeen#svt#svt x reader#seungcheol#choi seungcheol scenarios#seungcheol scenarios#seventeen scenarios#seungcheol fluff#svt fanfic#svt fluff#prince seungcheol#prince seungcheol x reader
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[NatsuYuu] ever here
Rating: G
Word count: 2282
Summary: Natsume Takashi is fifty-two years old when Madara leaves. It's not a spontaneous decision, but it's not a well-thought-out one either.
Note: AO3 link. Originally written in 2018, did some light editing. I will never stop thinking about Madara dealing with Natsume’s eventual death,,
Natsume Takashi is fifty-two years old when Madara leaves.
It's not a spontaneous decision, but it's not a well-thought-out one either. Forty years spent living with a human is nothing more than the blink of an eye for a youkai, but this same span of time is half of a human's life—Madara knows that much, and he curses himself to have let down his guard enough to be lulled into the illusion of safety.
There is no meaning behind that age. It could have been forty-seven, fifty-three, or even sixty. Madara hasn't pondered on it much outside of the fact he can sense life forces flickering, losing their brightness to let darkness consume them. He's seen and sensed that many times, for years and decades, watching the phenomenon unfold with both curiosity and disinterest. Human lives are short and fleeting, nothing worth paying attention to, as they will always disappear sooner than expected.
(Reiko vanished from the town and next thing he knows, she is no more.)
He retreats to the mountains farthest from Yatsuhara. He doesn't tell anyone. He doesn't let anyone know where he is. The peaceful and soothing rustling of the trees' leaves and the river's water help appeasing his heart in a frenzy, and pushing back his swirling thoughts. It's pathetic, in a way, to let himself affected by so little. It's not like it's the first time he's been in contact with a human before—and he still believes that not meddling with their affairs is less troublesome and more beneficial to his sanity.
(He thinks about the mess left by a lonely woman, that a brave boy tried to fix.)
Madara spends his days napping. He finds a new patch of grass to sleep on on a regular basis, right under the sun to keep him warm, and at night he takes walks or watches the starry sky to chase away unpleasant thoughts. He pointedly ignores any scent he recognizes, as they never travel close enough for him to get worried. Not that he's worried about anything, not really, it's just more convenient that way. Being alone is much easier to deal with his own pitiful state than being seen by some fool and having to explain something he doesn't want to think about.
Somewhere in the back of his mind, a familiar voice tells him he's running away. He brushes it off.
It has only been forty years, but he's already forgotten how silent life is when he isn't surrounded by idiots and accident-prone kids. He's a great beast, someone who holds power over low-class creatures and who rivals most of the strong youkais. And just for a second, one vulnerable moment, he wonders what good there is to possess such tremendous power if he doesn't have anyone to protect anymore.
Dizzy and perturbed, Madara stops in his tracks, and howls—a cry piercing the sky until it cracks to let untold messages squeeze through.
Human lives are short and fleeting.
***
He doesn't know how much time passes. It can't be more than a handful of years, though, because the scents are the same and the landscape has not yet warped. Nobody reached out to him either, and he doubts that no one is able to track him if they tried hard enough—even if he's escaped to far away mountains, he's not impossible to find. He knows for sure that Misuzu will be smug about finding him, and Hinoe is too stubborn to let him disappear without a word.
Days resemble each other. Madara misses manjuu and dango.
Then one day, the wind carries a different breeze; there is a quality to it that almost spells familiarity, ruffling his fur and sending shivers down his spine. He catches the whiff of a strong smell and overwhelming power, one that gently pushes at him with care, considerate and soft.
Kind and warm.
Madara jolts and scrambles up, mind racing and heart beating too loudly, eyes scanning the area like he's on the lookout for a prey he's waited for weeks, wild and cautious. Only then does he realize this aura isn't alone—and of course it isn't, of course it would come with two other ones that announce trouble.
He does not stare. His eyes do not linger on the gigantic silhouette of Misuzu descending from the sky like an omen, his grin ever plastered on his face, not quite landing (Misuzu never lands) but he lowers his hoof to let his passengers get down. Madara stays still.
“Damn, Madara, if you wanted us to leave you alone that badly, you could have just asked,” Hinoe sighs with fake casualness, as she takes a drag from her pipe, pinning him with a hard glare.
But Madara doesn't listen to her. He's too focused on the second figure stumbling on the ground, like he hasn't alighted from the body of a beast a hundred and a thousand times over, wincing when Hinoe has to put a hand on his shoulder to steady him. Madara can't tear his gaze off him.
“Sensei,” Natsume says, something akin to relief and desperation in his voice, and Madara chokes on his own words, unable to dig into his arsenal of insults to deal with the situation. Instead, Natsume takes a step forward, and another, and another, until he's standing right in front of him. “Were you here all this time?”
His eyes didn't change—that damn kindness is still lurking behind them, the fervor of his own stupid faith shining through it, like he hasn't found any reason to stop believing he could help anyone coming his way. Eyes never lie; eyes are what differentiate the humans from each other.
Natsume's trembling hand tentatively reaches up to stroke his snout and—Madara lets him, lets this light touch wash away his countless worries, and he closes his eyes. If he tries hard enough, he can be transported back to the youthful days of returning names and being wary of any youkai approaching them. He can summon the smell of Touko's tenpura and the tatami of Natsume's bedroom. It is comforting, wrapping him in a blanket of tranquility he wishes could last forever, but when he opens his eyes he sees Natsume's tired but never broken face, features drawn old, his once light hair taking a shade of gray only age can paint.
He releases a breath, tickling Natsume, just like he once did a long time ago, and this time Natsume smiles.
“I missed you, Sensei.”
Natsume keeps his hand on Madara's snout, and if he's pressing a bit harder than usual (when was the last time it happened?), Madara doesn't comment on it. Instead, he lays down, and carefully wraps his tail around Natsume, a silent invitation for him to settle in the white fur. This stretches Natsume's hesitant smile into a full smile as he sits down and starts scratching Madara's chin.
“The Book of Friends is empty now, do you still want it?” he quietly asks.
And Natsume must have felt his jaw clench, because he stops, lowers his hand, and gazes directly into Madara's eyes, waiting, expecting. Madara hates the feeling of helplessness.
“I have no use of a tool stripped of its power,” he croaks out, looking at a point past Natsume.
“...We've talked about it, Sensei.”
“What do you want me to do with the cover of a book?”
“That's up to you. I'm still going to give it to you, so please come home.”
Madara finally, finally meets Natsume's earnest eyes, after trying for so long to avoid reading the emotions in this brittle, human gaze when talking about the Book of Friends. He doesn't know what he expected to find; he probably expected nothing, except for something inherently Natsume in them, warm and affectionate, much like the stupid self he's always been. Natsume is looking at him with the same determined expression he's always worn when he set his mind on doing something. There is also fragility in it, an open wound waiting to be healed. Madara basks in the familiarity it provides him.
He gently knocks Natsume's head with his snout.
“The Book of Friends is exactly the reason why I left, and you cheeky brat has the nerve to come and dump it on me.”
There is no heat in his words, and everybody knows it. They all look at him without judgment, though if he had paid close attention to them, he would have seen pity coloring their faces. He holds Natsume's gaze as best as he can—Natsume assesses him quietly, carefully, like he's expecting Madara to flee again.
He won't.
“I keep my promises, you know that,” Natsume chides gently. “No matter how much time passes.”
Natsume's hand comes up again to stroke the fur on his head. The movement is assured, but slow, nothing like it used to be; Madara swallows the uneasiness, the fear, and stops running away.
“How old are you?”
He doesn't register Hinoe shaking her head in the back. All he notices is the way Natsume's smile takes a hue of sadness, his aura enveloping them both in resignation. Madara is certain his own sorrow is seeping through the seams of his fake calm demeanor.
“It's July 1st, today.” There is a brief pensive look on Natsume's face. “I'm turning seventy-seven.”
Twenty-five years is nothing to youkais. They let them fly by without thinking much of it, but for humans it's enough to raise a new generation of people that will become their hope. Madara has a thought for Natsume's descendants, who probably don't even know why their father, their grandfather (great-grandfather?), decides to take a trip to the other side of the mountains, visibly unaccompanied. He realizes with horror he doesn't know for sure that none of them has the ability to see youkai.
“It didn't feel that long to me,” Madara whispers.
“I know. That's why we came to see you. According to Hinoe, you would have slept through a decade if nobody tried to annoy you.”
He knows there is no accusation behind these words, but he can't help bristling, sharply shooting a glare in Hinoe's direction—she waves around her pipe, dismissing his irritation.
Natsume continues. “It's perhaps not my place to say that, but this is how life is, Sensei. Please let this old man have his one selfish request granted.”
He wraps his arms around Madara's neck, burying his face in his fur.
“Come back home.”
Madara is tired. He's tired of fighting all these emotions, all these worries that shouldn't exist (he's a great beast with overwhelming power), all these thoughts that cross his mind and twist his heart. He's tired of pretending and of living with the heavy lead settled in his stomach, putting him into a state of lethargy and incapacitating his ability to think rationally.
So he nuzzles Natsume, bringing his tail closer to completely protect him from anything else that can still happen, and lets out a deep laugh that sounds too watery and shaky to his own ears.
“Idiot.”
It can't be that bad, if Natsume emits a similar laugh, purposefully keeping his face hidden in his fur even if Madara can feel something wet against him.
Natsume climbs on his back for old times' sake. And if Madara is flying a bit slower than before, Natsume doesn't say anything. Misuzu and Hinoe follow them close.
This might not be the wisest decision. Many youkais would have chosen to stay away to cut all ties with humans, even though it doesn't erase their memories of them. Madara thinks himself foolish to have gotten so soft and attached to one single human, so he might as well be stupid until the end.
There is no worth living a boring life, when he can create new memories to cherish as they come, and for the after.
Reiko always said that people will regret not going through what they wanted, while they rarely get upset over doing something, even if it was a failure or a mistake. Mulling over her words from forever ago, Madara finds himself agreeing, closing his eyes as he curls up at Natsume's feet, listening to the quiet conversation he's having with someone that is without a doubt his grandchild. There is a different air about that kid, and Madara immediately recognizes potential.
That night, Madara digs through Natsume's belongings, and retrieves the remains of the Book of Friends. The green cover is barely worn, defying time and deterioration. He traces out the kanjis with a paw, and is certain the Book retained some power, though very little. These traces of power persevere, fluttering and placating, in a way that makes it look like they are unable to let go of that realm either. Madara shakes his head at the thought, but he keeps his paw on the Book.
“I'll protect your family.”
Natsume finds him hunched over it, and naturally picks him up, acting on pure instinct.
“Old men should be sleeping,” Madara states flatly.
“Then you should be sleeping too,” Natsume retorts. He casts a quick glance at the Book. “It became a family treasure, I guess.”
“Hmpf. Only you would consider something that put your life in danger as a treasure.”
Natsume looks at him, and Madara knows it's useless to argue further.
Years later, the children of the Natsume household will always find the family cat curled around a green book by the altar. The cat doesn't age, is somehow always able to tell when one of them is in trouble, and only a handful knows the secrets he's keeping.
Madara never leaves again.
#natsuyuu#natsume yuujinchou#natsume takashi#nyanko sensei#madara#jazz hands the pain will never go away#i simply LOVE the relationship between natsume and sensei....#they brought each other so much joy and made life so much easier to live ;;
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