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ilguna · 5 months

Note

Could I get a soulmate AU Johanna mason x victor reader enemies to lovers? like they spend the entire time hating each other just to find out when they’re in district 13 that they’re each other’s soulmates? even after they find out reader is still reluctant with not wanting to talk to Johanna but Johanna kinda trying to make an effort cause she’s seeing her differently now thank u & congratulations on 3k follows

☼ falling leaves (Johanna Mason) ☼

warnings; swearing, death mention, johanna's mean and self-centered, mild name calling.

wc; 4.7k

notes; enjoy all angst, no happy ending.

When it comes to being delusional, Johanna Mason takes the cake.

There has not been one conversation you’ve unwillingly had with her where you didn’t think that she’s crazy. The way she holds herself and blatantly disrespects the people around her as if she has some sense of superiority is absolutely mindblowing. It’s like she has yet to realize that all of you are in the same shitty boat, regardless of how you may or may not have won your Games.

If you had to guess, you’d say it has something to do with the popularity and how you handled it. It wasn’t outrageous or anything, at least you don’t think so. It was a normal reaction. You did what any other sane tribute would do in an outlying district that found themselves with every pair of eyes in the Capitol—you wholly and completely embraced the people.

Every move you made was catered to them, that way if you were in need in the arena, you’d be able to get exactly what you wanted. This would come with consequences later on, but you didn’t know that, and you don’t really care now, either. As long as you got the advantage and a sliver of a chance of making it out alive, you didn’t care.

And with you feeding into the fire with your cooperation, you easily ended up being the most popular tribute, surpassing the Careers. That was far from your goal, you flew a little bit too close to the sun, which got you this massive target on your back.

Still, you persevered. You let the Careers hate you, minded your own business, gaining sponsors by the minute. When you received a score of seven, they took a step back. In your interview with Caesar, you drew them back in by talking about how glamorous the Capitol is. If there was one thing you learned, it was that they were a sucker for compliments. Whatever made them feel better.

Well, it worked. All of it. You won the Hunger Games two and a half weeks in. The hardest part was shaking the Careers long enough to split them up and frame a betrayal, which never should have worked. They turned on each other, forgetting about your existence, until there was one left. He was too injured to win, anyway. You picked him off, and your announcement came five minutes later.

You continued to sing praises in the Capitol’s direction up until your Victory Tour, where you were finally able to stop when you got home to District Eleven. You were no longer important enough to focus on, allowing you to settle into victor life. And every time someone asked you if you really thought the Capitol was so great, through a bright smile you’d tell them no.

You met Johanna the following year, and from the very second she laid eyes on you, you knew that the two of you were not going to get along. Her face was twisted, eyes narrowed in your direction. She had her arms crossed over her chest, and she was standing with Finnick Odair.

You remember thinking to yourself, this is not victor solidarity. How could they judge you for a strategy that worked? It wasn’t at all what you were expecting from a pair of people that had suffered the way you had. Especially when they were the talk of the Capitol, themselves.

You came to the realization that you had survived the Hunger Games, but you’d never stop living with the scrutiny of your win for the rest of your life. No matter where you’d go or who you’d talk to, everyone would have an opinion. They’d either think it was smart or a blatant cheap shot.

They would never stop to think that they had come into the Capitol with a different list of things they were willing to do. If they wanted to leave with dignity, if they were fine seeming shallow, if they would settle for nothing less than tough, if they wanted to be a nobody.

For Johanna, you quickly figured out that she wasn’t going to let them help her. She wanted to figure it out on her own, and she did. She downplayed herself to make it seem like she wasn’t a threat. By crying through the reaping and the Tribute Parade, she ensured the idea that she was soft.

When it came to training, she purposely failed at everything she touched to make her seem weak. After scoring a three, all the remaining potential sponsors flew out the window, furthering her agenda. No one would think twice about her, not even the tributes. They wouldn’t have a need to hunt her down in the arena, because she was helpless.

She couldn’t have planned it any better. She hid and waited for a bulk of the tributes to be dead before she decided it was time to show off who she really was. And that was smart and brutal. With there being so little people left, she was able to take out the remaining tributes in less than a week, and was promptly crowned victor.

Her cowardly act was dropped in the interviews that followed. You remember seeing them in passing, noting how she was barely able to hide her distaste for the Capitol. At the time, you thought about how if you were in her shoes, you wouldn’t be as openly hateful.

And as if it were a test, you were reaped the next summer.

It’s just an odd experience to be shunned so heavily by her and Finnick. You expected it more from the Career mentors, but Cashmere, Gloss and Enobaria were so welcoming. They didn’t care where you were from, just the fact that you managed to get their level of popularity coming from nothing.

You suppose that didn’t help your case. Still, that shouldn’t have mattered, anyway. You all won in your own respectable ways. You used the sponsors until they were dry, Johanna pretended to be a damsel, and Finnick won young by trapping tributes in his net and stabbing them with his trident.

She’s been caught on your actions ever since. Despite the fact that you’re merely a year younger than her, or that you’re not the same person you were for the Games, she can’t see past the fact that you threw yourself into the Capitol’s arms. In fact, she called you childish for it.

When you heard that through the grapevine, you knew that any hope of friendship between you two was gone. You wanted to give her time to realize that you’re not a terrible person, but if she was going to start to go down that path, you weren’t going to entertain her. She could be who she wanted to be, you’d just have a pole to keep her at a distance.

It worked for a couple of years, and then it washed down the drain when the Quarter Quell came around. Chaff told you that if you wanted to go back into the arena, you’d have to be willing to help. If not, Seeder would go in instead. As much as you would’ve liked to stay home, you knew that you couldn’t sit back and do nothing. Seeder would be a better leader in District Eleven, and you’d be more helpful in the arena.

When you learned that you’d have to work alongside Johanna and Finnick, you began to regret it. Johanna’s entitled, all she does is run her mouth. She likes to push buttons—yours especially, because she knows that you’re trying to be better than her. It was a tragedy when you accidentally found her in the jungle, because you’d rather deal with Finnick. At least his comments are passive-aggressive.

Besides Johanna’s attempts to piss you off, the arena was surprisingly easy to get through. You ignored her, only speaking to Finnick when it was necessary. You’re sure it was glaringly obvious to Katniss and Peeta that you and Johanna hated each other, but that didn’t get in the way.

And while not everyone made it out of the arena, you did. A nasty period of survivor’s guilt followed, because it wasn’t easy knowing that the ones who got taken by the Capitol were being tortured. It should’ve been you with them, because you’d left Johanna early to make it back to the lightning tree before midnight.

She has not let you live that down. It’s all she talks about—how you abandoned her and Peeta to save your own life. She’s called you every bad name that she can think of to anyone who will listen. Her favorite one being selfish. That one comes out of her mouth so often that it sounds foreign to you now.

It’s funny, because Finnick nearly did the same thing. He initially left the tree to find you, Katniss and Johanna because the wire snapped. And when he realized he wasn’t going to find any of you in time, he started to go back to the tree after he heard Katniss shouting for Peeta. By the time you got there, Katniss had already shot the arrow at the dome, and they were all paralyzed on the floor.

No matter how many times you bring this up to her, on the occasions you feel like arguing, she tells you that it’s different. Finnick was doing his job by going to save the Mockingjay. And that he was to guard the tree with Beetee, anyway. It made sense for him to go back to it.

You know you dig your grave a little further each time you throw Finnick under the bus, but you refuse to be held to a higher standard. It’s hypocrisy, because he’s her best friend, and she’s wearing rose tinted glasses when it comes to him. Sometimes you contemplate how much trouble you’d get in for wringing her neck, and then you wonder if you’ll earn an ounce of respect from her for doing it.

“I didn’t know you had tattoos.” A voice says.

You jump, pulling the top of the jumpsuit to your chest as you turn to see who it is that’s intruding. It’s Finnick, of course. He’s standing in the doorway of your assigned room, which you occupy alone. They had tried to make him your roommate, because from the surface it looked like you got along.

It didn’t work out for multiple reasons. The main one being that he had so many breakdowns from his girlfriend being in the Capitol that he repeatedly got sent back to the hospital to be monitored. They kept his name on the plate next to the door with yours for a few weeks, but ultimately took it down when it was apparent that he wasn’t going to be stable enough to be on his own.

And now that Annie is here in District Thirteen, he lives in a room with her.

“So is knocking not a custom in District Four?” You ask, face twisted. “Or are you a creep?”

Finnick’s eyebrows shoot up, and then he lets out a laugh. “I did knock, I thought you heard me.”

“Clearly not.” You snap, pulling your arms through the top of the jumpsuit. You button the front, looking over him. “And my tattoos are none of your concern.”

He ignores what you’ve said. “Did you get them in the Capitol?”

You press your lips together. “Where else would I have gotten them?”

He makes a face. “I don’t know, District Eleven?”

“We have more Peacekeepers than any of the districts combined, and you think we have tattoo parlors?” You ask. “And one of them is my soulmate mark, so it doesn’t count.”

“Doesn’t mean you don’t know how to have fun.”

You glare. “What do you want?”

He takes in a breath. “You’re needed in Command.”

You sigh, motioning for Finnick to lead the way. He happily turns around in the doorway, heading out. You shut the door behind you, following him to the elevator.

“Which tattoo is your soulmate mark?” Finnick asks.

“None of your business.” You tell him, trying to shut him down.

“Mine is this one.” He rolls up the sleeve on his right arm, getting it above his bicep to show you a pair of koi fish. “Annie has the same one.”

“I figured.” You mutter.

“Is it the one on your back left shoulder?”

It is, he probably got a good view of it while you were trying to get dressed. You’re not sure how he came to the conclusion it’s that one in particular, because you have a group of tattoos on your back. It was advised for you to keep your front half clean for pictures. No one would want a picture of your back.

You went with it, even though you would’ve liked to be able to see them. You convinced yourself to wait a few years before you decide to do what you want. You thought by the time the next generation of victors came out, you’d be out of the spotlight and no one would care then.

“Why does it matter?” You counter.

“I’ve never seen a soulmate tattoo that big before.” Finnick shrugs, “Usually they’re smaller.”

“Yours isn’t that small.”

“I said usually.” Finnick looks at you.

When you make it to Command, you step inside to find it as cold and dark as it normally is. There’s a group of people standing on the far side of the room, the closer you get, the better you’re able to see who it is. The most notable faces are President Coin, Plutarch Heavensbee, and Haymitch Abernathy.

Plutarch gives you a wide smile when you stop at the table. “Here she is now.”

“There’s no telling how Peeta would react to her.” Haymitch shakes his head. “If you want him to do this, he would have to do it alone.”

“Nonsense.” Plutarch waves him off. “Tell me, (Y/n), you used to bake, right?”

Your face scrunches. “How do you know that?”

“Your Victory Tour.” He says. “You said you made cakes and pies.”

You look from him to the table, because you honestly don’t remember mentioning that during your Victory Tour. “At home, yes.”

“And for weddings and parties.” He insists.

You stare at him in bewilderment. “I guess.”

Plutarch nods, looking at Coin. “I told you that she’d fit the description.”

“What do you need cakes and pies for?” You ask, looking at Haymitch for help.

“Finnick and Annie are getting married.” He tells you. “They would like Peeta to make the cake for the wedding.”

“So why do you need me?”

“To help.” Plutarch says, as if it’s obvious. “Peeta won’t be able to make a cake that large on his own. And the staff in the kitchen aren’t prepared to tackle this task.”

“And I am?” You raise your eyebrows.

“Peeta will be in charge.” Coin clarifies. “You’ll help.”

You turn to look at Finnick, who’s approached the table, standing between you and Plutarch. You stare at him for a long moment, thinking of all the times he was an ass to you. How you swallowed it because you wanted to be the bigger person. Yet, he’s older than you so he should know better. And he never once stepped in to stop Johanna.

You decide to cash in on your good behavior. “No.”

When you look back at Coin, she’s got a hard expression on her face, encouraging you to challenge her further. Plutarch gawks for a second. “Well, we were hoping—”

“No, I’m not doing this for them.” You shake your head. “I have nothing against Annie, but Finnick is a different story.” You motion in a circle with your hand. “He does not deserve my help.”

Finnick makes a noise of disbelief. “Why?”

“Because we’re not friends.” You deadpan. “You made that explicitly clear during my first year of mentoring—you and Johanna. And while she was smearing my name, you didn’t once think to stop her.”

Haymitch sighs, eyes on Plutarch. “I tried to explain this to you.”

“That’s petty victor drama.” Plutarch tries to brush it off. “This is for a greater purpose, we want to film a propo to show the Capitol that we’re still celebrating.”

This bothers you too, but not nearly as much as making a cake for Finnick. “If Finnick wants me to help, he’ll apologize and ask me, himself.” You look at him, “Otherwise, Peeta can make the cake on his own.”

All eyes shift to Finnick expectantly. You watch as his skin begins to turn a gentle shade of red, embarrassed. “(Y/n), I’m sorry that I didn’t help you. Will you please make a cake for Annie and I?”

A part of you wishes you could make him beg a little bit more, but for now, this is good enough. “Sure, Finnick. It would be my honor.”

—

“Peeta, I knew you baked, but I didn’t think that you were this good.” You tell him, chewing on a piece of cake that he let you try.

“Thanks.” He lets out a laugh, using the back of his hand to move a stray hair out of his face.

“You said your parents were bakers?” You ask. “How did you manage that?”

“Yes, we all were. My parents ran it, my brothers and I worked. It wasn’t easy. The only reason why people could afford it was because we had to lower our prices.” He reaches for the blue dye at the end of the counter. “It was easier to run after I won.”

“I can imagine.” You nod. “I could finally buy the ingredients I wanted, instead of working with what I had.”

Peeta drops some of the food coloring into the icing. When he decides it’s enough, he stirs the color in, and you watch as it turns from white to a dark blue. Once it’s not getting any more potent, he backs away, reaching for the towel to dust the flour off his hands before reaching to wipe the sweat from his forehead.

“It’s so hot in here.” He shakes his head. “And stuffy. At the bakery, we’d open the windows to keep it from becoming a sauna.”

“There are no windows here.” You laugh. “It’s just a cement box. It’s a good thing I convinced Plutarch to give us tank tops. Could you imagine trying to work in those jumpsuits?”

He practically rolls his eyes. “I wouldn’t be.”

“I don’t think you were given much of a choice.”

“Yeah, and neither were you.” He moves to the sink to wash his hands before returning to icing the cake.

He’s finally gotten to the final tier. It’s taken him almost two hours to do the top half with how intricate the design is. It’s a good thing that he’s talented in that aspect, all you can do is make the cake base taste good on its own.

You yawn, chin resting on your palm while you watch him create more waves. Your eyes flicker to the guards standing in the corner, who are here just in case Peeta has another one of his moments. He’s not himself yet, there are still times where he slips and freaks out. You’re sure you had them on the edge of their seat when you mentioned the family’s bakery.

“You can go, (Y/n).” Peeta tells you, backing off to fix the pipe in his hand. “I’m probably going to be here for a while longer to make the finishing touches.”

“Are you sure? I’m fine staying to keep you company.” You offer.

“No, it’s fine. I like the quiet.” He waves you off. “Go ahead.”

“Thank you.” You smile. “Will you be there tomorrow night for the wedding?”

“Most likely not, but feel free to visit me in the cell.”

You hold back your laugh, walking away. “I’ll keep that in mind. Goodnight, Peeta.”

“Goodnight.” He murmurs.

You push the door to leave the kitchen, shutting it gently behind you. A small hallway leads you directly into the dining area, where there’s dozens of picnic tables set up to eat at during the day. At this time of night, they should all be empty, but there’s one person here, sitting at the table closest to the walkway.

Johanna.

You plan to ignore her and head straight for your room a few floors up, when she clears her throat. “We need to talk.”

“I don’t want to talk to you.” You tell her, not bothering to stop. She gets to her feet.

You can hear her shoes against the floor, and then you feel a hard poke into the back of your left shoulder. “This is a problem.”

Your jaw sets as you turn quickly, grabbing her wrist. “Do not touch me.”

“When Finnick told me you had those leaves on the back of your shoulder, I didn’t believe him.” She says, face twisted. “Now that I’ve seen them, it’s different.”

You throw her arm back at her. “It’s none of your business, like I told him.”

“It is my business.” She tells you. “Considering it’s your soulmate mark.”

“Why? So you can spread rumors about that, too?” You shoot back. “I’m bulletproof, Johanna. Your words ricochet. All you’re doing is making an ass of yourself.”

“I have the same mark, idiot.” She snaps.

The insults you have sizzling on your tongue begin to die. “What?”

“The falling leaves? I have the same mark on my ribs.” She unbuttons her jumpsuit, pulling it wide open to show you the pale skin inside. By the dim light provided in the dining room, you’re able to see that she’s telling the truth.

Your face contorts. “You have to be kidding.”

“I’m obviously not.” She fixes the jumpsuit.

“That’s unfortunate.” You spit. You were hoping that you’d have someone that you could stand to be around.

“I don’t mind.” She admits.

“Well, I do.” You tell her, she locks eyes with you. “I wanted someone I actually liked and could get along with, not some egocentric asshole.”

“Egocentric.” She echoes.

“Yes, because you’re apparently better than I am, don’t you remember that? I’m inferior, you said so yourself.” You tilt your head. “I also remember you calling me pompous, and conceited, and hedonistic, and vain. And of course, your personal favorite, selfish. All words that mean the same thing, not that you’d know that.”

You throw your hands out. “Just because I had a different strategy on how to win the Hunger Games. This is actually so fucking ridiculous that it’s not funny anymore.”

Johanna stares at you, not knowing what to say.

“I mind.” You emphasize, “Now leave me alone.”

–

The next few days are a new level of torture that you’re not quite used to. It seems that word travels fast in this bunker, because you’ve heard everyone’s opinion about the matter on your hands. As if what they think will make a difference or change your mind.

The good thing is that you’re used to this treatment to a certain extent. It’s what happened while you were mentoring. Which would be amusing, if you’re not tired of being treated this way. You’re right back to being scrutinized, this time for a new scenario.

As if it couldn’t get any worse, you were informed earlier this afternoon that you’d have to participate in the wedding ceremony. Plutarch said he wasn’t going to pull you aside for an interview or demand you make a toast. He just wants you to be here, so that when they do catch you on camera, there’s a sense of camaraderie. Even if it’s clear on your face that you’d rather be elsewhere.

After working on that cake with Peeta for several days, you formed a friendship with him. You were hoping that they’d let him out so that you could talk to him throughout the wedding. They can’t risk it, not with Katniss in attendance. One wrong move and it could trigger him into another attack.

You’ve settled for blending in somewhere in the middle of the crowd. You’re keeping close to the front so you seem interested in the traditional dancing, but far away enough to the point you’ll be easily looked over. And you’re keeping your distance from Johanna, who’s still by the chairs on the other side of the room, because she hasn’t let the soulmate thing go.

She wants to fix what she broke, not caring that you’re uninterested. Maybe if she knew how to treat people with dignity, it wouldn’t have gone this far. Instead, she chose to make assumptions about you and ran with it. While telling the people around her that her beliefs are true.

You can’t stand her.

When the crowd comes to a lull, they decide to bring out the cake, the only thing you were still here for. You wanted to see the reactions of the people around you, that way you’d be able to report it back to Peeta later on. While you might not have done much besides building the foundation, he did a fantastic job of making sure that not a single detail was missed on that cake. He deserves every ounce of praise.

There’s gasps, low murmurs. They don’t announce who made and decorated the cake, only that it had taken the two of you days to complete it on time. Once Finnick and Annie have cut out their slice, you quietly slip out of the room, wanting to go back to your bed, tired after the long day.

You don’t even make it a step before the door is opening behind you. You glance over your shoulder to see who it is, and see that it’s one of the many random people that were selected to participate.

“You’re a loyalist, aren’t you?” He asks, tone threatening.

“Excuse me?” You ask, slowing down.

“That’s why you kiss-ass when it comes to the Capitol.” He’s walking in your direction. “Always defendin’ them.”

District Twelve. The people of Thirteen don’t cut corners with words, a lot of the people of Katniss and Peeta’s district do, whether they realize it or not.

“I don’t defend the Capitol.”

“Your interviews said otherwise.”

“Those were done years ago.” Your face twists. “I was a teenager when I was being asked those questions.”

“That doesn’t change anythin’. My skin crawls just knowin’ you’re sleepin’ on the same floor as me.”

“Then sleep on a different floor.” You tell him through gritted teeth. “You have a problem with something that isn’t even real. If I was a loyalist, would I have helped the rebels get Katniss out of the arena?”

“You left them behind.”

You roll your eyes, unable to help it. You were hoping you’d be through with this, but it seems as if Johanna’s words will continue to follow you. And now, they’re going to get you into some questionable situations. They aren’t dangerous for you, though. It is for him, coming up to you like this. You’ll flatten him on the concrete.

You take a step toward him, planning to teach him some manners when the door opens behind him, stopping you. Johanna’s face is screwed tight. “Leave her alone.”

The man scoffs. “I’d be doin’ us a favor, gettin’ rid of her.”

“No, you wouldn’t.” She snaps, striding forward to grab him, yanking him back. “If you so much as lay a finger on her, I’ll break every bone in your body.”

The tone of voice keeps him from pressing her further, raising his hands in defeat. He gives you a look before twisting out of her grasp, going back to join the party.

You eye Johanna for a second, “I don’t need your help.”

“I know.” She heads for the door. “Doesn’t mean I won’t step in.”

You catch the look she sends your way before leaving the hallway. If this is what she plans to do in order to make you forgive her, she’ll be doing it for the rest of her life, because it’s practically meaningless to you.

Still, you suppose that you can give her some credit for trying.

this was part of my 3k celebration!!

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elytrafemme · 2 years

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hkdsjfgseryuwsgyrufkyd you have such good words all the time and like ima try not to ramble so that this is quick to answer ect ect but i absoluetly love how you talk about things. you just seem so??? real i think is the word im looking for. human maybe. like you have words that perfectly wrap up my mind in a soft blanket. its everywhere. like your whole being is threaded with this sort of energy. like late nights in summer greeting you with the sounds of wildlife and while you cant see a thing you know its all there. like i think the word im looking for is life.

words are hard uakjdgad

i have been fighting off my brains attempt to zone out for like almost an hour now and i am loosing so i think i will sleep soon. its making words hard. i think your words have like altered my being, just a little.

youre just amazing anyway i realize i didnt say much so feel free to delete this. i like rewrote this 5 times and had almost sent an as 3 times before now. yippee

hiya i'm getting back 2 this now bc im in the proper mood for it again (tho WAY less philosophical im just contently sitting now ^_^)

you know i think i've spent a lot of my life and still do spend a lot of time viewing myself as like ... an inhuman entity. which like isn't true but idk i've gotten some pretty warped perceptions of what kind of person i have to be and the expectations of the world. and i kinda need to remind myself like hey you are literally a teenager just loving and doing your goddamn best and trying to be cool and failing half the time but making memories ALL the time and like. i dunno. it's important! it's important

sometimes i'm real articulate sometimes i am ... So Not but either way im glad i can like! hit on those vibes and shit. i dunno. i have many thoughts i simply yearn 2 share them

just let out the biggest yawn so you from a day ago and me are having some sleepy solidarity. still trying to trudge up a fic from my bookmarks though to reread so imaginably i'll be up for way longer than i should but eh i got a good 11 hours in last night i can afford some poor decision making skills

i realize 11 hours means i would have been sleeping for a REALLY fucking long time but uh. well actually. it was from like... 10:30. to 10:30. hang on how does math work. okay fucking whatever it was a long time

your words r valuable even if they are kind of all over the place bc mine are too we are simply communicating. we talk like how i think shrimp talk. yeah :D and also some of ur other asks i havent replied to just sit in my inbox im leaving the one where u wished me good tooth recovery in there and i'll answer it when i feel fully better its just a pick me up. anyway appreciate u

#nightmare.ask #long post #sleepy anon ☁️

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anouri · 2 years

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day two of obsessing over poetry (im writing as im listening a postcast about murders 💀)

anyway, today we have katerina gogou, and she is my favourite female poet

born on June 1, 1940 and died on October 3, 1993. she was a poet, author and also actress. she played on more than 30 movies. she played on theatre since she was five years old if im not mistaken. As a poet, she was known for her revolutionary and aggressive writing. She was an anarchist and her political identity was often reflected in her poems, such as i support anarchy and My friends are black birds. i have her biography, and sadly i still havent read it because of school and mental health. anyway, she died when she was 53, she killed herself (overdossed) she grew up in really diffuclt times, after the war and she also lived junta (1967-1974, if you know what happened during the 17th of 1973, heres is the link because i cant remember much info/stories) i believe the dictatorship and the war had a big impact on her poems.

I dont know many facts and things about her, (she also had a daugther) i cant find a lot on the interent and we didnt read/studied her poems in school. and heres an article about her

now her poems:

The time will come

The time will come / When things will change / Remember that, Maria / Maria, do you remember during recess / That game during which we used to run / While holding the baton / Don't cry because you see me (crying) / You're the hope / Listen, the time will come / When children will pick the parents / They won't be born out of luck / There won't be any closed doors / With people leaning outside / And we'll choose the job

We won't be horses / For others to look at our teeth / Think that people, / Will speak with colours / And others with musical notes/ Just remember to save / In a big bottle of water / Words and notions like these: / Misfits, oppression / Solitude, honour, profit, disgrace / For the history lesson / There are Maria, I don't want to lie, / Difficult times and more will come / I don't know, don't expect much from me / I haven't experienced much, I can only speak for what I've learned / And from all I've read, this I held on to / What matters is remaining a (decent) / We will change life

...Despite all this, Maria

Occasionally

I have saved some clippings of someone / They used to say is you. / I know newspapers lie / Because they said you were shot in the feet. / I know they never aim at someone's feet. / They aim at the mind. / Be careful, won't you?

(im really proud coz i recited this poem a few years ago,exactlyy this part of the poem)

then theres also this poem:

(its one of the poems i mentioned earlier)

you can understand how much i like poetry, because this took one hour to write it/ my philologist teacher from my old school must be really proud of me right now

(hope u are having a great day and great time reading this haha<3)

hii (i love murder / true crime podcasts lmao)

"I know newspapers lie / Because they said you were shot in the feet. / I know they never aim at someone's feet. / They aim at the mind."

i love this and it reminded me of a poem from 'come the slumberless to the land of nod' that says:

"He wanted women no one would miss. / This motive relieves me—I would miss your nose, your ears, your sour breath; therefore you are safe."

something about the denial of harm of a loved one via their own internal logic is very poignant, the desperation to provide reasons why it's impossible that the reality they're facing is true

"wires stretched from city to city" "they live in silence. they pain in black / they invent their language"

friendship is so important to me, so i adore this. particularly platonic love and solidarity through hardships

i am having an amazing time reading these !!! < 3 i hope you're having a great day as well

#anouri answers asks #a decomposing dump of my thoughts

0 notes

x-rds · 2 years

Note

hey uh lio. i dont think that’s an aro moment i think that’s a traumagenic moment. sounds like you’ve never been offered ample space in your life and you don’t know what it’s like to have your boundaries respected <:(

(obviously i dont know you better than you know you, im a stranger on the internet, but uh. shakes your hand. solidarity. and i know i’m not aro)

sorry if this is crossing a line anywhere

[Lio] Damn.... u could be right

I guess it could be a mixture of both? I definitely have never had space or respected boundaries unless we lived alone.

I suppose.. it’s like, where does one thing start and the other end, you know? You’re right, it’s probably a trauma thing, but it feels similar to my irl romance repulsion (which could also be trauma???) - it’s probably a situation where I was affected by something so much that it’s just part of me now. It probably can’t be disentangled because it’s all blended together.

I... have been reluctant to identify it as a trauma thing because that always feels like I’m expected to work to change it. Which is silly maybe, when I’m part of a traumagenic system and I would slap anyone who told me to my face that I’m expected to work on Not Being A System. And being physically alone just feels the most comfortable - if anyone is in the same building at all (or unit, I guess, bc apartments are fine) I have this background tension/alertness and can’t fully relax. Even if they’re my friend, or someone I’m enjoying spending time with. I always want to be able to go home from spending time with someone to be somewhere no one else is.

Idk, would my life be better if I somehow ‘got over’ it? Maybe, but it’s like, idk, that would take a lot of being uncomfortable on purpose and someone who can respect boundaries and it’s.. well. Hard to find people like that sometimes 😔 especially when you mix being aro into it and I’m not sure why I’d ever need to live with someone other than if I couldn’t afford single person rent I guess

Anyways. You aren’t crossing a line anon, don’t worry, I appreciate your thoughts! You can message me anytime about whatever, I like to hear what people think.

#liolog #replies #=the fuckin trauma strikes again!

0 notes

delicrieux · 3 years

Text

☆ﾐ 𝚖𝚊𝚔𝚎 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚜𝚊𝚢 “𝚘𝚑”

PART 23: PRETTY BOY

emotions run wild when everyone is drunk and hardly coherent. quackity is always loud, but tonight is a full on assault on the senses (the ears, in particular). bretman simps for corpse too much for your liking. rae is happy for once. there’s a confession of love somewhere in there. sister james makes a very good impostor, but that’s old news, the real question is who gave you a knife? a new persona emerges that leaves the roaches quivering in their boots.

─── corpse husband x reader, a lil bit of everyone x reader (because she’s a queen) ─── soc. media + written fiction! ─── word count: a lil over 7k.

author’s note: it’s the way i can’t follow a fucking calendar for me. sorry guys, i swear to god i thought i had one more day before thursday . the idiot award goes to me and i accept it with pride. anyway, i was excited to write this for a while! quackity is in mexico, that’s why he drinks, too. my fic, my rules, he’s too funny not to include. im also working on an extra w dream and mr quack so look forward to that, too! hopefully u like this part ily xx and as always lmk wat u think!!

ultimate masterlist. ҉ myso masterlist ҉ previous. ҉ next.

✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼

The outfit for today was picked with care and consideration. Hot, as always- you had forgotten your roots, your hoodie and sweats lay hidden in the bottom of your drawer never to be worn on stream again. You’ve changed. Clout really does that to people. Some viewers, naturally, find your hotness near insulting: how dare you rub your beauty in their faces, and so unabashedly, too?! If only you had a twinge of self-awareness, perhaps you would tone it down. But you don’t, and whether that’s by choice or not is the mystery the whole internet tries to solve (ARMY has been working diligently, and you admire their effort, though in the end their tireless labor brings no tangible results).

You went from hot to hotter. In all truth, the fires eating away at California can be blamed on you. You carry this burden in stride, in your platform overpriced shoes some girl scammed you on Depop with, in your fishnets, in your skirt, in your corset, in your rings and necklaces and chains. You woke up today and chose violence. Decided your existence will be a plague to the rest of the populace, and meant it (that, maybe, you took inspiration from a certain faceless Youtuber that so happens to be your boyfriend or whatever). You feel powerful. Like you could step on the world and the world would let you. You decide that it’s the way it should always be.

The smile on your lips informs of nothing good to your quaint, small audience of 40k. You change the lighting in your room from the soft cherry blossom pink to menacing violet. As fitting for a villain.

Perhaps California’s hellish sun has finally purged you of your bubbly, docile nature (arguably, you had never possessed it to begin with); perhaps it’s the forth mimosa you’re mixing as people slowly trickle into the lobby. Who knows?! Not you, definitely. What do all of those boring dead white European philosophers say? Embrace the unknown? Cheers, you’ll drink to that.

In stark contrast to your appearance, your room is a fucking mess. A war-zone of epic anime scale. Everything is scattered, well, everywhere. A perfect representation on what’s going on in your mind, always. You don’t like how people focus on your surroundings-- you’re the main attraction, hello? Are you not enough to sustain them? Must they beg for more?! Totally ungrateful. You shake your head in disappointment, as if a mother scolding her children.

noooooo! mom pls forgive me i will never ask abt anything ever again T_T

yall looking at the room? lol couldnt be me

feels like im five and my mum just told me i cant eat a pretty rock i found on the pavement:(

You can’t contain your sly grin. Eyes twinkle with a purplish hue, appearing all the more menacing. You tricked them once again, oh how absolutely evil of you. In your blind delight you accidentally spill champagne on your lap.

“-Oop, fuck.” You snort.

why does she sound like goofy

The scandalous drunk Among Us stream is about to start. You had been eerily silent through the greetings, and those that chose to approach you were met with a cold shoulder and minimal replies. All on purpose, of course. You wish to plant a seed of unease within them, and so far, it’s working. There are questions unanswered, jokes unsaid, Quackity unteased. It breaks your heart, but it must be done. You look into the camera, all vulnerable and devout, as if to say: I’m doing this for you, all for you.

pack it up yandere simulator

idk whats going on but i think im into it?

villain arc villain arc villain aRC VILLAIN ARC

“Hey, guys,” Corpse’s voices rings in your headphones, and not a blink later his astronaut appears in the lobby in a cloud of smoke, “Hi, Y/n.”

More sharp, excited hellos follow after. You merely hum, though give no further reply. As Corpse strays to your side, Charlie steps in in front of him, “BDA access only. You have a permit, bitch?”

“Y/n is being quiet-she’s being quiet, guys!” Quackity helpfully informs, as if the rest failed to notice your cryptic silence, “Don’t be sad Corpse, man, Corpse don’t be-she didn’t say shit to me either.”

“Y/n has decided to not waste her breath on the SDS.” Charlie voices, “And you know what? I actually agree with her for once.”

“SD-what now?” Dream questions.

“The Small Dick Society.” Charlie explains, noting Dream’s whine of protest, “Oh no, don’t give me that shit, weren’t you bitching about not being invited and not belonging to exclusive clubs? Congratulations, you’re finally part of one.”

“Wait!” Quackity interjects, “Am I part of it too?”

“Guess, Sherlock.”

“I’ll drink to that.” Corpse says. You nod to your audience, like he just spoke the God honest truth, and follow in his example. Your tentative sip unexpectedly turns into a greedy gulp, but you’re not complaining. The only slightly coherent thought that rings in your mind is drink tasty.

“Ignore them,” Rae chimes, “Y/n’s probably plotting something and using Charlie as a cover up.”

“I’d never.” The words slip past your lips before you can stop them.

“Well you sure are very quick to deny it.” You can hear her smirking, can hear the proud lilt in her voice, like she caught onto your silly little scheme, like she has you all figured out. Your eyes narrow dangerously. The night behind your window pools dark, with far away city lights glimmering before they, too, seem to dim.

Your roommate is back on your shitlist. How her name was missed among the rest.

“I’m defending my honor.” You yelp, the playfulness back in your voice along with your sunny smile, “I can’t have my wifey slandering me online. At least do it in private, geez.”

If Rae’s such a good detective, you’ll give her a good chase. Perhaps you’ve been laying it on too thick. Made her too suspicious. She can’t out you yet--not when your plans are so grand, so fun. It would be a waste.

“Why weren’t you saying anything then?” Quackity questions.

“Do I need a reason not wanting to talk to you?” You shoot back. Your friends laugh and he tries to shriek something past their cackle. You lean back into your chair, the tension from Rae’s confrontation finally easing. You wink at the camera and bring a finger to your lips. The roaches swear to secrecy, elated by your wickedness. As appropriate, they spam devil emojis and various renditions of evil hohohos and hehehes. The apple truly does not fall far from the tree. You had raised them well. You raise your glass in solidarity. A few donations fall into your pocket, easily summed up as: make them suffer.

Muting the discord call, you give a single response, “Oh, I intend to.”

i hope this doesn’t awaken something in me

^already too late for me bro

As caught up in wreaking havoc among your viewers as you are, you miss Sykkuno’s entrance, though from what you can tell, Charlie gave a stern warning to back the fuck off to him, too. He’s playing into your plan so beautifully. Truly, you couldn’t do this without him. Back to stalking the chat you go.

Your eyes flicker to the game upon Bretman’s signature drawl and “Hi, daddy.”. You have no time to get offended at Corpse’s sweet “Hi, honey” back, because the next person to join the discord call and the lobby leaves you speechless. You knew, of course, you had been informed of the line-up, but still, you had never expected yourself to be so close to Jomes Chorles himself. You make a weird gesture with your hands, half wave half excited wiggle, as if you’re telling the audience to calm down, when, in fact, it is you that needs calming.

He goes saying his hello’s like doing a public service, name by name, before, lastly, uttering, “Hi, Miss Y/n. Loooove the vids.”

He’s a roach in disguise, who could’ve known?! Your audience is so diverse and unexpected, gosh, you’d shed a tear if the mascara wasn’t so expensive.

“Hi!” You reply with a grin, and it’s genuine this time, a glimmer of your old self, “Hi, I love your videos, too. It’s like, really cool to finally meet you.”

“Oh my God, you too!” Is his enthusiastic reply, “Okay, the energy in the studio today? Love it.”

“Is this all of us?” Quackity asks.

“Sadly.” James says with a note of disappointment.

“HEY!”

“Okay, guys!” Ash chimes, “Let’s do this! Proximity Among Us, round one, go go go!”

✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼

Luck does not shine upon you during the first round- you are stuck as Crew Mate, your life cut short by Bretman who had the audacity to bite your head off. You’re positive Ke$ha wrote her hit single Cannibal about him, and if she didn’t, she definitely had a That’s So Raven moment and predicted it. It’s also insanely suspicious as after you are eliminated he sticks real close to Corpse, feigning innocence (and this is a controversial opinion you do not endorse) better than even you. It wounds your pride, having been picked off so casually, so quickly, and now stuck a ghost you roam the halls of the dying spaceship, lost, confused, heartbroken.

Charlie runs past you, not once even glancing in your direction. “Brother...” You mutter sadly, “Do you not see me here? Do you not feel... the loss of your twin’s heartbeat...?" Damn, these mimosas really are making you emotional. You sniffle and take a sip to calm the storm within you. No rage, just sadness. You are still processing your own tragic demise.

Suddenly, a meeting is called. There’s a horrible red X on your astronaut. You are the only one dead so far, and of course the rest won’t vote out the fucker. How bitterly you sit! With your arms crossed over your chest and your glare sharp enough to cut through glass. Fuck the sad shit, now you’re just angry. At the very least, the second Impostor could’ve given you some company!

“I knew something felt off.” Charlie is first to speak.

“Who the fuck killed Y/n?” Corpse questions, and his voice ignites a whole discussion that lasts much too short. The others skip, having no suspect yet. It’s much too soon to start pointing fingers, but you still feel like they should have at least tried. Pouting, you fix yourself another drink.

“Stop drinking!?” You gasp, exasperated at your chats demands, “I’m dead! What else should I do, the tasks?! Nah, fuck that. I’m done. I’m out. Charlie better employ his fucking detective skills because if the Impostors win, I will literally quit the game--yes I will, no I’m not bullshitting, fucking watch me.”

Thankfully, Bretman was caught venting, and you didn’t have to end the stream prematurely. The second Impostor, your roommate (oh, the betrayal, Rae, how could you?!) was voted out due to Corpse’s suspicion. Victory to the Crew Mates! The game restarts and you find yourself back in the lobby.

“Miss Y/n,” Bretman says, “I am sooo sorry for killing you first, baby. It was just too easy. I couldn’t pass it up.”

Giggling, Quackity chimes, “Sister slaughtered.”

“Oh my God,” James groans, “shut up!”

“Yeah, Y/n.” Charlie speaks, and there’s an accusatory note in his calm voice, “Why the fuck did you allow yourself to be eliminated first? Real noob shit, I expected more of you.”

“HUH?!” You frown, “What’s with the victim blaming?! I literally was doing my task and Bretman snuck up on me. It’s not like I had a weapon to defend myself!”

“You have been avenged,” Corpse states, “and that’s all that matters.”

“Thank you, Corpse!” You say, “At least someone cares.”

“Hey, I helped, too!” Dream pipes up.

“No, you didn’t.” Corpse shoots him down, “I was the only one.”

“You were not--”

“Literally was. Isn’t that right, Sykkuno?”

“Uhhhh-” Sykkuno trails off, “Well, we-we all helped!” You can hear his shy smile, and you just know he’s bobbing his head up and down at this exact moment, “We all helped. Team work!”

“Team work!” The rest echo, save for yourself, Corpse, Charlie, and the two Impostors. Silence speaks more than a thousand words or whatever. You pray to any higher power willing to listen to finally assign you the role of the villain, the one you were born to do.

Sadly, higher powers must have either shitty customer service or are in need of hearing aids, and you almost scream in frustration when your astronaut appears along with the others, the bold CREW MATE title chipping away at your master plan.

✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼

“Hey, Y/n, hey! Hey, Y/n!” Rae finds you in Cafeteria, where you, metaphorically, are eating your feelings. Not that she needs to know, of course. She sounds chipper, a bit ditsy, and that must mean she’s sufficiently tipsy. You store that information for later, and forget about it as soon as you notice Dream and Sykkuno, like her very own personal bodyguards, trailing after her, “Wanna play a game?!”

“Is this Saw?” You inquire, somewhat lazy. You’d be lying if you said the alcohol wasn’t affecting you, it’s just instead of making you bubbly, it makes you mellow. This was supposed to be fun, you were supposed to terrorize everyone and laugh as they perished by your hand, yet here you are, wallowing in self-pity. The roaches start worrying. The donation jingle chimes.

BEATINGS & SLUTATIONS yns_fishnets donated 5$ mom just wait it out & dont worry youll get your vengeance soon lead them on!!!!

Your fishnets have a point!

“Saw?--No, no, haa, no it’s a drinking game.” Dream sounds like he has had one too many rounds of this mysterious game, and naturally, you are intrigued.

“Where we drink!” Sykkuno clarifies. Right, well that explains everything! If you had any questions, you surely have none now.

“Okay, so, name a category, and you have to, like, say a word associated with it...Or something along those lines.” You hadn’t even agreed and Rae is explaining the rules already. She knows you too well. It’s both a blessing and a curse, “Can be anything! Okay, Y/n, Y/n, Y/n start!”

“Uhh--” If only your brain computed as fast as she spoke! “Song lyrics! Wait--who drinks?”

“You fail, you drink!” She hurries, “Choke me like you hate me but you love meeeeee. Syk, go, go go!”

“Uhm, ah, I don’t wanna feel like this, uh, fuck?” He laughs--it’s a raspy, embarrassed little sound, “I don’t...wanna look like this? Dream, now you!”

“Wait, we’re singing Corpse’s songs?”

“Any song!” You urge him quickly, “Hurry! Or drink!”

“She say I kill her cat like I'm Luka Magnotta--”

“Hey! That’s cheating! You can’t use my song!” Rae protest.

“That wasn’t in the rules!” He counters.

“Y/n! Time’s running out!” Sykkuno exclaims.

“Oh, uh, will-will the real Slim Shady please stand up!”

NOT EMINEM WHAT THE FUCK

MOOOM WHT THE HELL THIS ISNT 2008 T_T

“Ra-Ra-Rasputin, Russia’s greatest love machine--”

“All...All the other kids with the pumped up kicks better, uhh, run better run, faster...-faster than my gun?”

“Uhh, shit--fucking hell.” Dream laughs, and Rae practically screams at him to keep going, “Alright! Okay! I’m singing--uh, you’re so golden, na na na na?”

“I tell you what a woman loves most,” You chime gleefully, “it’s a man who can slap but can also stroke.”

finally, the mother mother representation we’ve all been waiting for

i aint exactly gay but i aint exactly not gay >:)

the bis won

“I steal a few breeeeaaaths from the woooorld for a minute--”

“Mitski?!” You question, eyes bulging, “Baby, who hurt you?”

Even if you can’t see her, you know she’s waving her arms around and shaking her head, “Not the point! Sykkuno!”

“Uh, I-I, uhm, I don’t--”

“Drinnnnk!” You all chorus.

“It was a good concert,” You say, “Syk, I’ll drink with you.”

“Thank you, Y/n. That’s very kind of you.” He says softly, with a smile lining his lips. You grin.

“Oh, fine. Everyone, bottoms up!” Rae decides, and no one protest. A moment of silence passes, then, “Well, GG, GG, let’s do some tasks?”

Your enthusiastic Ariana Grande-esque “yuh” is cut short by the second meeting of game two being called. The first one to go had been Ash, voted out during a bathroom break as a joke, and you still feel a bit bad about that. Now, you notice Charlie has been eliminated. A sense of righteousness fills you--while you mourn for your brother from another mother and father and family tree, you feel like this is divine punishment for slandering you before the start of this round. Karma. Nothing much is discussed, and the meeting ends shortly with everyone skipping.

You spend a good ten minutes wandering around with Dream, who’s mission appears to be convincing you to join his Minecraft server, and really, there was no need for him to try so hard. You failed to provide him with a concrete answer only because it would've been to humiliating to admit that you agreed instantly upon hearing the word Minecraft.

That’s when things get fucking weird. Another meeting is called whilst you’re in the middle of fixing lights, and once the board with the members appears you audibly gasp. There had been 8 living, breathing astronauts rushing around the map, and now only 4 remain. You, Corpse, James, and Alex.

“What the fuck--what the fuck?!” You screech alarmed, noting Dream being among the perished crew, “I was just with Dream fixing the lights, I was just with him, what the fuck--”

“Okay, no one panic.” James says, “Let’s figure this out. Okay? Okay. Who else is close to Electrical?”

“I’m at Nav.” Quackity says.

“I’m at Cafeteria, but Y/n--” Corpse starts, “kinda weird that Dream died when you were with him?”

“I didn’t fucking kill him, I swear to God, Corpse, why are you accusing me?”

“Don’t be so defensive.” He says smoothly, “I’m just pointing out the obvious. We all have a reason to be sus, no? Considering you were right with him.”

“...It is suspicious.” James agrees, and a part of you dies inside. You understand their hesitance to trust you, but it doesn’t make it any less frustrating!

“Guys, I didn’t kill him, I swear. He invited me to play Minecraft, I wouldn’t do that to him, not after that!”

Corpse merely hums, and it brings no comfort what’s so ever. The situation is spiraling, and not in your favor. Trying to salvage your chances at freedom, you try again, “Wh-James, James, you called the meeting, right?”

“Yeah, I found Rae’s body near Medical.”

“So I couldn’t have killed her and Dream at the same time!” You latch onto that piece of information, hoping it will save you.

“You could’ve vented.” Corpse points out, “Plus, there’s no telling how old the body is.”

“Killing five fucking people? It’s the work of one person, or else the game would have already ended. As it stands, I am no way sober enough to think all of this out.”

A brief silence hangs in the air; your lungs constrict from tension, from spilling words so hotly. You grasp your glass, as if for emphasis, and take a shy sip. It taste sweet, a bit too sweet for your liking. Must be your nerves. You drink again to wash the taste out of your mouth, which, surprisingly, doesn’t work. You whine a little, stomping your feet like a child about to throw a temper tantrum.

“...I believe her.” Quackity says. You breathe out a sigh of relief.

“Alex, thank youuuuuu!” You gush, batting your lashes as if he could somehow see you and that would somehow portray your innocence, “I knew I liked you for a reason!”

He mutes his mic, his spill of words lost to your ears, but chat helpfully informs that he’s screaming because you don’t hate him.

y/n out here collecting men like pokemon cards

Now all that’s left is to convince the others. You start with the one you know will work, “Corpse,” You address him in your sweetest voice.

“Y/n,” James warns, “don’t you dare--”

“Baby, I didn’t kill anyone, I’m crew mate, you gotta believe me.”

“She's innocent.” Corpse declare, thoroughly convinced.

“Oh my fucking God, you fucking simp!” James laughs, “She’s obviously manipulating you!”

“No, no, she isn’t. She’s innocent, I agree with Quackity. Now, it’s either you or him.”

“Could be you for all we know!” Alex accuses.

“Guys, time’s running out.” You mutter fretfully, noting the seconds tick by from white to red.

“I’m voting Alex.” Corpse says.

“What?! Fucking traitor! Fine, I’m voting for you.” Alex hisses.

“Ugh, hate agreeing with Quackity, but I’m also voting Corpse. Sorry, hon, nothing personal.” James says. The VOTED icons pop up beside their characters and you panic, pressing your mouse idly but it’s too late, there wasn’t enough time, and you cry as Corpse is thrown into lava. The chat spams F, and it feels like salt on a fresh wound.

In a second you’re back in Cafeteria, shell-shocked and trembling, and Quackity cusses because the Impostor is still among you. His frustration doesn’t last long as you watch in horror as Jams Chortles, beauty guru supreme, murders the only other crew mate in cold blood and all you can do is gape and let his cheerful laughter fill your ears. The screen bleeds red, informing of Impostor victory, the second one being Ash. Looks like you voted her off for the right reason, but little difference did it make.

“Corpse!” You yell past the cacophony of voices, all in varying forms of excitement or anger, beelining for his in-game figure, “Corpse, I’m so sorry, I panicked, I tried pressing the button but I wasn’t quick enough--”

“It’s alright, baby. Don’t worry about it.” He’s so calming, so gentle, you might burst into tears again. What did you do to deserve him? You wish he was with you so you could smother him in a hug. Alas, all you can do now is say “I kith you, mwah!” and rush to the other side of the lobby, as if to hide from such a bold display of affection, even if it was a joke (it wasn’t).

yall say corpse simps for y/n but the reality is y/n simps for corpse harder

queen stop its embarrassing

bhaddies can simp!! i wouldnt but its her choice <3

More deliberations, commentary, and short breaks. Once everyone has returned, the countdown starts. You’re still reeling from the chaos of emotions, the five stages of grief you experienced in 1 second upon Corpse’s unjust demise, that it takes you a moment, a single heartbeat to realize what you’re seeing on screen.

The letters IMPOSTOR hang above your astronaut, with Dream standing just behind you as your newly appointed partner in crime. And suddenly, all the sadness and the tenderness and sympathy vanish with a curt exhale. You slowly turn your head to the chat, muting the Discord call, your soft chuckle of disbelief turning into a full blown laugh.

it’s happening!!!!

omg omg omg omg

VILLAIN ARC VILLAIN ARC VILLAIN ARC

You slap your palm over your lips, trying to contain your wicked smile, to tone down your broken giggles, “N-No, I can’t laugh yet,” shaking your head softly, you look into the camera, “they’re all going to die.”

pack it up light yagami

this has awoken something in me.

^ same

The crew mates go their own ways, rushing to do their tasks like the diligent little workers they are. How adorable. Their grim fate is still miles away from them. The shit you’ll pull will be for the history books. Much like your outfit, which you picked keeping in mind your newfound thirst for blood, you had devised your plan of action with care and consideration. You had been mulling it over all day, drawing on paper like the absolute madwoman you are; hell, you even made sticky notes on who to go for first and what to say. Sure, being moderately drunk hinders your memory slightly (an understatement of the century), but you got a feel for what you’re going to do. It’s nothing short of evil.

Dream and you don’t exchange words, you merely nod at him-- which he, of course, can’t see-- but your criminal bond enables telepathic communication. You can hear his thoughts, ones that strangely sound like drink drink, drink drink. And really, who are you to refuse such an enticing offer?! As he fucks off to stalk his victims, or play pretend, you take a sip. The cocktail is still sweet, but this time it’s not the icky sweet you had tasted prior. You glance at your sticky notes, ones the roaches can’t see, and nearly spill your drink for the second time today as you jerk.

“Fuck!” You exclaim, shoving your headphones off and spinning in your chair. You hastily stand up, wobble -- the world is pleasantly funny right about now -- and giggle. Stepping past the mountains of abandoned clothes and pillows and blankets and anime plushies, you maneuver your way to your bedside table and yank it open, nearly taking out the whole drawer with you. In the mess of old diaries and bad drawings, pencils, jewelry, and stickers, you fish out something you should not be wielding in your inebriated state.

It’s a knife.

In midst of teenage angst you had ordered it off of Amazon with your mom’s credit card, all the while whining that it’s not a phase, mom, and it’s what all of my cool kid friends with fried hair have, and don’t you want me to fit in, don’t you want your daughter to be happy?! You think it’s about that time, the time of too much uneven eyeliner and black eye shadow, that she took to calling you little raccoon. Trash rabbit was your personal favorite, but she used it sparingly. When you presented your Macy’s outfit, holding up a fucking butterfly knife, to your dad, asking if it was a look, he glanced up from some boring business magazine all boring business dads read and said, with a bright smile might you add, “It’s a something!”.

Oh, how it gleams in the lilac light. You used to do tricks with it, back in eight grade maybe, and--what the fuck? Why did you parents allow you to buy it in the first place? Well, because you’re the only child, the only one important, of course they got it for you and clapped enthusiastically at your performances, because why wouldn’t they? The whining they’d face otherwise would’ve been harder to endure than a whole dance number to Panic! At The Disco’s greatest hits. Broadway looked so fucking shabby in comparison. Your mom said so, so it must be true.

Stumbling back to your extremely confused viewers, you take your seat, feeling a bit more grounded now that you’re not standing on your platform shoes anymore. Putting on your headphones, you grin at the chat that starts swimming, and not from too much drinking either. You do a quick flick of your wrist, one that thankfully doesn’t end in injury, and the sharp tip of the exposed knife points upwards, glimmering. It’s a rainbow colored one, because one, it’s pretty, and two, you weren’t hardcore enough for the jet-black or straight up military ones the other emo kids had. Cute and dangerous, just like you.

So you just sit there, holding it up, looking somewhat sly as the roaches capture this momentous moment with screen-caps. Someone definitely clipped you trudging past the obstacle course to obtain a weapon of mass destruction. You must be already trending on Twitter, though you can’t exactly log on and confirm your suspicions. You just feel like you might be, like you should be, because your audience wouldn’t let this slide. Thankfully, your friends don’t have time to check social media, or you’d be outed in an instant.

“Y/n?” Your roommates voice booms from your headphones, and you perk up with a stupid realization that you completely forgot about Among Us. Stuck at the start, at the lobby where Dream had left you, you see her astronaut waddling to you, “What are you doing here? Wait--Have you not moved from the beginning?” She can barely finish the sentence without giggling.

You grin, “I was looking for something.”

Your voice is soft, too calm for your usual frantic spill. You gently set the knife down, hand coming to rest on your mouse, fingers idly, slowly, bouncing on the buttons.

“...What were you looking for?” She’s none the wiser, the numerous drinks consumed tonight numbing her sharp mind. She would have noticed. Your eerie composure would’ve given it away in a heartbeat, or at least hinted at something being objectively wrong. But she sounds curious. Poor girl, hasn’t she heard? Curiosity killed the cat.

“A knife.”

“A knife?!” There’s something about her tone that implies a mental clicking, the puzzle pieces falling together, “You have a knife?!”

“Yes.”

“No!”

You think it would only be appropriate that the random sequence of killing animations renders the backstabbing one. You grin, biting your lower lip with a quiet snicker.

i love women

if evil bad...why seggy?

You take your time leaving her there -- in true serial-killer-to-be fashion, you stick around for a bit longer, admiring your handiwork, or more like the chat singing your praises. You joined today with the intent of making an interesting stream. You have no doubt in your mind that now it will be legendary.

You move down the hallway, and you let your imagination wander: you can almost feel the stuffy air of your helmet, can almost hear your loud footsteps echoing in all this hush, can almost see your reflection in the spotless tile floor. It’s not long before your second victim makes an appearance, running circles in Cafeteria. You hear his voice first before you see him, recognizing Alex by his unhinged screech of “Let’s go, let’s go, let’s goooo!”

“And what’s got you so excited?” How cool and collected you are, gosh, you barely contain the quiver of excitement that threatens to slip out.

“Y/n!” He exclaims, rushing to your side like a lost puppy--he’s really making this easy for you, he’s not even trying, “You just missed--Oh my fucking God, you just missed James, he-he called me tall, he called me fucking tall! Let’s go, let’s gooooo!”

“Well, you are tall, aren’t you?” You chime sweetly, almost as sweet as the drink that lingers on the tip of your tongue, “Real 6′3 energy, no?”

“Yes, yes, exactly! You get it, you fucking get it--” Once again, his mic goes mute, and you glance at the chat for help.

hard to transcribe what hes saying but hes taking shots and yelling that he loves you good job mom

hey, queen! girl, you have done it again, constantly raising the bar for us all and doing it flawlessly

mom plz dont kill alex hes too cute hes all uwu rn

Oh, how you’re about to break his poor little heart. If you had any good left in you, you’d spare him. You don’t, and you’re not taking requests at the moment, so all you do is smile at your chat and they know. They just do. Hive-mind shit, you’re all two-faced little fuckers.

You giggle, and it sounds a tad fake, “You’re so weird, Alex,” You start, and he’s back in the call, a sound of confusion echoing in your ears, “but I get it, you know. You’re weird. You’re a weirdo. You don’t fit it, and you don’t want to fit in. I mean, really, has anyone even seen you without your stupid hat?”

“...Do--” He sputters, bellowing a laugh, “Do you have that whole fucking monologue memorized?!”

“Is it because you’re bald?”

“I’m not fucking bald!” His giddiness is quickly replaced by anger.

You hum, pretend to think, lastly barking a “Liar.” before you kill him. His scream is cut off, leaving only deafening silence at it’s wake. Unlike with Rae, you don’t stick around. You didn’t appreciate how little he enjoyed your recital.

You run into James near Navigation, most likely on his way to Cafeteria. He ends his song mid-note, and you breathe a sigh of relief, “Finally! Someone! I’ve been looking all over, where the hell is everyone?” You question, blocking his way, lest he accidentally stumbles onto the crime scene and easily pins it on you. You’re not done yet.

“Honestly? No clue. I’m searching for them myself, like, everyone’s scattered. I hope no one died.”

You smile. You tried not to, but you can’t contain it, “Me, too.” You echo the sentiment, urging him to join you, and he does. Too trusting. Everyone in this game is too fucking trusting. You lead him back to Nav, feigning that you have a task here. As you pretend to move the spaceship, you can’t help but ask, “Hey, James?”

“Yeah?”

“What’s your favorite scary movie?”

A beat of silence passes, “Oh no, fuck that, I don’t like this at all.” He states, about to spin on his heel and bolt like he should do, but you’re quicker-- killer instincts and all-- and he’s dead before he makes it out the doorway.

“See, after your No More Lies video, I figured you’d only tell the truth.” Yes, this is the part of the anime where the villain monologues, only the hero in this case is an astronaut cut in half, and not exactly alive to listen to you. You hope James’ ghost sticks around, “Case in point, why the fuck did you tell Quackity he’s tall?” You eye the chat, which’s mostly spamming W and comparing you to Ryo from Devilman Crybaby. “Such a shame...” You murmur, pressing the REPORT button.

“What?! How are so many people dead?!” Ash gasps, her kind voice tinted with fear and confusion. Your three kills, like military stars on an uniform of a distinguished officer, are displayed on the board. Dream appears to be slacking, having yet to take a life.

“Someone’s been real fucking busy.” Charlie observes. It’s true, you have been.

“I found James in Nav, but holy shit--” You begin, exasperated, “--what the fuck, guys, how did we miss this shit? Where is everyone?”

“I’m at Electrical.” Corpse voices.

“And I’m with Corpse.” One sentence is all it takes to figure out your next target: Bretman. Revenge for being killed first in the first goddamn round, and for spending so much time with your boyfriend.

Eep!!! Boyfriend boyfriend boyfriend!!! The word even makes you forget your thirst for blood, that’s how whipped you are. Sadly, it’s time to return to reality, to this grave situation.

“And what have the two of you been conspiring?” You keep your tone level, but that alone is enough to set everyone off. The unease you had planted within them before the game started is starting to bloom. However, if they suspect you, they don’t speak up, not yet.

“Fishnets, mostly.” Corpse says.

only partly a lie he was mostly talking abt u queen <3

corpse simping for y/n is the sweetest thing ever

the times corpse used y/ns name when talking abt y/n: 1. the times he used baby or my baby: infinite

“I’m wearing them right nyoooow.” Bretman drawls.

You hum, “What a coincidence. I am, too.”

“Wait--For real?” That seems to catch Corpse’s attention, because of course it does, you picked them with him in mind, after all.

“No peeping.” You tsk, obviously referring to his tendency to hop onto your stream unprompted. Whether he actually listens to your demands is beyond you, “Peeping means cheating.”

“For the love of fuck all, can we get back to the three dead bodies, please? Because I’m about to have a second coming of Christ moment and taste my consumed, digested beer for the second time.” Charlie interjects.

“I mean, anyone have any ideas who’d do this?” Dream takes hold of the conversation. Quiet, disappointed nos greet him. They have nothing to go on, no clues, not even a subliminal message. With everyone scattered, there is no way of locating the actual bodies and drawing a long red trail leading back to you.

You’re too good at lying, and Dream is too good of a publicist. People tend to trust his judgement, which is his main asset (besides his calm demeanor of course). When the Among Us gods chose you as Impostor, they made sure you had every advantage.

“Who-Who do you think it is, Dream?” Ash questions, “I trust you. I do. Just know that.”

“No fucking clue.”

“Y/n?” She tries again.

“Same. I’m a bit worried, though.”

“Let’s, uhhh, let’s skip?” Sykkuno offers. The consensus is to start voting at six. Your new mission is to make sure you dwindle the numbers down drastically before that can happen. You have no qualms about sacrificing Dream in order to meet your goals, either. Absolutely cold blooded.

Back at Cafeteria, there are words exchanged about Quackity’s body just laying there, forgotten. Blame is shifted: how come we didn’t notice sooner? Where’s Rae? And you mindlessly go along with their mourning, not really paying attention. Dream leaves with Charlie and Sykkuno, Corpse requests you stay with him and you sprout fake apologies. Not his time yet. Us girls need to stick together!, you sing, following after Ashley and getting further and further away from him, going deeper and deeper into the labyrinth of the spaceship.

You find yourself in Security with her, her cute astronaut pressed to the cameras, watching the live feed, “Let’s lurk here, okay? Maybe we’ll see something.” If only she saw who was standing behind her.

“Who do you think is the Impostor?” You ask, standing in the doorway, “Or, more like, who are the Impostors?”

“Honestly?” She ends her word with a little sigh, “I think it might be Corpse and Bretman. I haven’t seen them at all this game.”

You smile, raising your brows, tilting your heard, and you sound so kind, like a dear old friend about to deliver a tender message, “...Have you seen me?”

“SHIT!”

Too late. In one smooth motion she joins the afterlife. You cut the lights, venting mindlessly till you spot Corpse and Bretman panicking in Weapons. Your existence is still a mystery to them.

“Fuck fuck fuck fuck--” Corpse mumbles, “Bretman, don’t you dare fucking kill me right now.”

“I’m not Impostor!”

“Okay, I’ll drink to that.”

They rush out of Weapons, most likely on their way to Electrical, and you trail after them like the Grim Reaper itself, biding your time till you can deliver the killing blow.

“Corpse?!” You call out, mild panic ringing in your voice, “Is that you?”

“Shit, Y/n? Where are you?” He questions. Crew vision is so sad, so small, how can he not see you standing almost right next to him? “Where’s Ash?”

“I dunno,” You say, “when the lights went out I ran. Please don’t kill me.”

“I’d never do that, baby.”

Too easy. They’re all too fucking easy. You bite your lower lip, trying to stop the laugh bubbling in your chest, to stop the lightheaded dizziness that overcomes you with a rush of excitement.

“Thanks, pretty boy.” You mutter, and it sounds a bit lower than you intended, a bit darker, something sinister lurking underneath cotton candy words. It instantly clicks in Bretman and he makes a noise, something like a whine, and you see him backing away, “I know I can always trust you.”

Whether Corpse notices the odd shift in tone, he doesn’t show it, “I like it when you call me that.” Is all he says, and you hear the smile in his voice, the appreciation. The trek to Electrical is all but forgotten. You slowly make your way to Bretman, “Where are you? Come here.”

“Just a minute,” You say cheerily, “I just need to kill Bret first.”

“Holy shit.”

“N-” Your victim’s sentence is cut off in a second, and you can’t contain your manic cackle this time, because the screen bleeds red, the words VICTORY splattered on it, depicting yours and Dream’s sneaky astronauts. You’re still laughing as the voices of your fallen friends ring in your ears.

“Y/n, what the fuck, you’re an actual monster.” Dream says, but there’s no actual weight behind his words, each syllable punctured with a laugh.

“I knew the second she asked me about my favorite scary movie that I’d get the chop.” James states.

“Wait, Y/n, did you kill everyone?” Corpse questions.

“She fucking did!” Dream answers for you, “I got Charlie and Sykkuno, and barely at that. What the fuck.”

“I’ve been waiting so fucking long for this.” You admit, giggling, raising you glass, “I toast to you, Dream. My perfect partner in crime.”

“I didn’t really do shit, but cheers.”

Quackity heaves a heavy sigh, “Y/n, Y/n, you don’t actually think I’m weird, right? Right?”

“No, she does.” James chimes.

“WHAT THE FUCK DID I EVER DO TO YOU, DUDE?!”

More commotion, more noise, and you just sit there, buzzed, snickering, reading the chat as the rest agree to play another round. You thank the people who donated that you had accidentally missed among the, you know, murder, reply to a few questions, bow dramatically to the many praises and invisible flowers you receive for such beautiful assassin work. When you look back at the screen, you throw your head back with a maniacal laugh.

Impostor again, only this time it’s with Charlie. Family bonds are often restored when united under a common goal. You’re so happy. So happy. You weren’t done terrorizing your friends yet.

✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼

tags (in italics is those i couldn’t tag! make sure all’s ok w your settings!) : @littlebabysandboxburritos - @fairywriter-oracle - @tsukishimawh0re - @ofstarsanddreams - @bbecc-a - @annshit - @leahh19 - @letsloveimagines - @bellomi-clarke - @wineandionysus - @guiltydols - @onephootinfrontoftheother - @liamakorn - @thirstyfangirl - @lilysdaydreams - @pan-ini - @mxqicshxp - @tanchosanke - @yoshinorecommends - @flightsandfantasy - @liljennyx3 - @bingusmode - @unknown-and-invisible - @sinister-sleep - @fivedicksinatrenchcoat - @mercury–moon - @peterparkerspjsuit - @unstableye - @simonsbluee - @shinyshimaagain - @ppopty - @siriuslystupid - @crapimahuman - @ofthedewthesunlight - @mythicalamphitrite - @artsyally - @corpsesimpp - @corpsewhitetee - @corpse-husbandsimp - @hyp-oh-critical - @roses-and-grasses - @rhyrhy462 - @sparklylandflaplawyer - @charbkgo - @airwaveee - @creativedogs - @kaitlyn2907 - @loxbbg - @afuckingunicornn - @fleurmoon - @yeolliedokai

more tags are in the comments bcs tumblr only allows me to tag 50 people max 💙

#corpse husband #corpse #corpse husband x reader #corpse x reader #corpse social media au #corpse husband x y/n #corpse husband fic #corpse husband social media au #social media au #myso #make you say oh #quackity #dream smp #corpse x y/n #imagine #imagines #reader #xreader

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favoniuscodex · 3 years

Note

if requests,,, pick one for kujou sara: 1) post-work cuddles w strong woman after prison break quest and calming her down or 2) s/o gets injured at the battle against the rebels and sara tends to ur wounds (or vice versa) ty no matter what whether u answer or no, sara solidarity 💙

pairing: kujou sara x gn!reader

prompt: sara tends to your injuries after you get inured in the fight against the resistance

a/n: these are both so valid, i’ll pick number 2 though bc i’m a sucker for that trope,,, thank u for the idea food starfell

—————

“you got injured.”

the statement comes from the woman who now leans in the doorway of the infirmary. citrine eyes glance up and down at you, but all you can do is muster a soft smile and attempt to fix your posture. however, a hiss escapes your lips as the sharp pain of your ribs reignites as you try to sit upward in your hospital bed. sara is silent as she walks over to you.

even after all the time the two of you have been dating, you don’t know if she approaches you as kujou sara, the fearsome fighter within the shogun’s ranks, or kujou sara, the girl who holds you after you have nightmares and confides her worries in you. in her typically cold eyes, you can see a warm concern spark in them as she looks over your bandages. a soft tsk leaves her lips and she glances away for a brief moment. her gaze only returns to you when you begin to speak.

“you weren’t the only archer on the field.” you say and your lover’s eyes gleam with a hint of danger.

“which one did this to you? i can raise their bounty level.” sara’s words are nearly an order, yet you shrug off her question with a kind shake of your head.

“how am i to know? if i had known who fired the arrow, i would have been able to dodge it as well.” you say before letting out a laugh at your own words. your amusement falls short as you let out a groan at the sharp pain the action sends through your ribs. in response, sara takes your hand in her own.

“we will defeat the resistance. this won’t happen again.” she says in a low tone and you playfully roll your eyes before bringing her hand to your lips and placing a gentle kiss on her knuckles.

“injuries are to be expected on the battlefield. if you take what the resistance does to me too personally, it will cloud your judgement and make you more susceptible to injuries of your own.” you chide softly and sara nods understandingly, but not without reluctance.

“i can’t help but take anything involving you personally,” she murmurs. “i value you greatly, after all.”

your lover was never one to declare her love for you. the three little words most desire to hear fall from their partner’s lips have never once escaped her. rather, they form in a different manner. i value you. you understand their meaning all the same.

“i love you, too, sara.” you say with a smile. her eyes widen slightly and her cheeks tint with a faint pinkish hue at your words. you can’t help but giggle in response, but unlike usual, she doesn’t chide you for your forthright affections. instead, she squeezes your hand as a silent method of communication. a promise of protection? thanks to the gods that your injuries were not more severe?

the meaning of the gesture is unclear, yet you appreciate the warmth of her hand in yours anyways. you squeeze her hand gently in return and, for the first time that day, a smile slowly spreads across sara’s face.

#kujou sara #kujou sara x reader #genshin impact x reader #genshin impact #//mail #//mutuals #starfell !#writing.sara #axia.writing #genshin spoilers

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lumosinlove · 3 years

Text

Relic Keel

(warnings in tags)

PREVIOUSLY ON RELIC KEEL

Marlene got into college and hasn’t told Dorcas because she’s scared of how she will react.

Lily and James had sex and obviously like each other, but Lily is scared to have attachments on Hogwarts when they’re going to college soon.

Leo and Logan question each other about their pasts without much progress. Logan finds out that Leo hopes to own The Lion restaurant one day, and that his father’s death has something to do with “The Voldemort.”

Saint and Sirius talk about leaving the island and how they met when they were eleven years old. They have sex and avoid more difficult topics.

James and Lily meet at the Gryffindor Club as promised. Lily tells James that she doesn’t want anything tying her to the island, that she hates the fake boundaries that Hogwarts has and that James isn’t crossing them as much as he thinks he is. James understands, even though it hurts.

Saint and Sirius are cleaning the Potter’s pool when James arrives with Remus and Luke. Remus and Sirius have a tense moment in the kitchen, Luke and Saint argue, and Sirius finds out that it’s Remus who sails the Wolfsbane every morning—Remus thus finding out that Sirius notices.

Logan returns to the Carrows to hand over his money and stock up on Crucio. We find out that he works for them in the hopes that they will help him get Finn out of Saint Clair, only the Carrows are angry with him for using their Crucio—they say that Logan owes them now.

Logan heads over to Saint Clair to watch Finn from afar, and swears again that he will rescue him.

part iv

Remus closed his eyes, soaking in the morning sun and the salty air. The wind pushed his hair back as he tightened the rigging, catching the wind. Sometimes his sails felt like his bare hands. Like he finally had something to hold onto, even if it blistered his palms. The sea made him feel alone, in the best way. Usually, it felt like people were always around. He couldn’t go anywhere without running into at least two people from school, or his parents’ friends. Yes, he’s excited for college, no, he’s not sure exactly yet, yes, he’s still sailing, yes, he’s still obsessed, yes, he remembers learning at Gryffindor Club, sure, I’ll tell my mom you say hi.

Solidarity was less exhausting.

The wind buffered and he sighed as he slowed down. he looked back towards Shack Beach. Saint had said they saw him every morning—that Sirius saw him every morning. He wondered if Sirius was watching now.

He couldn’t see anything from this far away. Part of him wondered if he could make this island disappear completely, just for a moment. But it was dangerous to stray that far. Even The Cradle, the small U of islands just off of Hogwarts’ southern coast, was pushing it. Remus huffed out a laugh as he managed the ropes to come about, back towards shore. If that wasn’t a metaphor, he didn’t know what was.

Things on Hogwarts had become complicated in what felt like overnight, even though Remus knew that wasn’t true. They were older now. They didn’t just care about summer vacation. There was college to think about, and then jobs. Hogwarts wasn’t the dream it once was. Remus wanted to see mountains, and huge cities, or snow—and not just for a week on vacation. He wanted to belong somewhere because he wanted to be there, and not just because he had grown up there. He was tired of knowing everything there was to know.

He tied up his Wolfsbane on autopilot, stroking his hand over the side before tugging his shirt over his head and jumping straight into the water. It was cooler from the night, but it was what Remus needed. He held his breath as he found the sandy bottom, his eyes closed. For a moment, he didn’t have to be anywhere. He got to enjoy the ocean and its predictable changes.

When he came up for air, he remembered why he loved this island. That still didn’t mean he didn’t want to leave.

“Are you headed to the museum, sweetheart?” his mother said when Remus came down to the kitchen, freshly showered. He preferred to let the salt linger all day, but he figured he should be fresh for his first day of work.

“Yeah,” Remus held up his keys. “Just looking for some coffee first.”

His mom held up a mug for him, laughing. “Ask and you shall receive.”

Remus smiled. “Thanks, mom.”

“How was it this morning?”

Remus poured some milk into his cup. “It was good. Sun’s going to be strong today. Went near The Cradle—not too far, don’t worry.”

“You know me too well,” Hope laughed, whisking some eggs into a lather. “Well, it’s pizza night. We’re ordering in so, if you want to have some friends over and take it to the den, that’s fine with me. But don’t complain if Jules crashes the party.”

Remus nodded. “Actually, I think we’re going out. If that’s all right?”

Hope nodded. “All right, sure. Be safe, though. Who, uh…”

“James and Luke,” Remus sighed. “Mom—”

“I wasn’t going to say anything—”

“It’s not Luke’s fault,” Remus continued anyway. “His dad, I mean. He didn’t know.”

“I know that,” Hope sighed. “But…Even I can see that boy’s hurting and I barely see him at all.”

“Then shouldn’t he be with his friends?” Remus said.

Hope raised her eyebrows at him, and Remus raised his own right back.

“All right, all right,” Hope said. “You’re gonna be late, I’ll see you later, baby.”

Remus knew he should take the car his parents had given him. He knew he should get used to driving, knew his dad wondered why it just sat in the garage. But here, on the island, Remus liked his bicycle. He liked the warm breeze. It reminded him of being out on the water.

Which, in turn, now reminded him of Sirius Black.

When Remus remembered Sirius, he mostly remembered bruised cheeks and nasty looking cuts. He remembered the hushed way people used to whisper about him, and how, even when he was loud, grinning and well-liked, he was still from Salazar. Sometimes he had eaten lunch surrounded by people, and sometimes he had eaten it alone with his brother.

Remus didn’t understand this island. Was Sirius really so different because he was born a few miles South rather than North? It made no sense—only it did, but only because it was all Remus had ever known.

The Hogwarts History Museum was a pride of the island. Remus knew it well from school trips, and from his own interest. He’d spent many Saturdays there as a kid, gazing at all of the small models of ships and dreaming about what it would be like to sail them, wishing they weren’t trapped behind glass—feeling a little like he was trapped behind glass. A ship in a bottle.

“Hi there, Remus,” Layla smiled at him, green eyes kind and skin a rich, dark brown against the pale pink scarf in her hair.

“Hi, Layla,” Remus smiled. “Having a good summer so far?”

“Sure,” Layla shrugged. “Lots of time here. I saw you win the sailing race last Sunday, congrats.”

Remus smiled. “Thanks. It was real fun. Sorry I beat your brother, though.”

“Oh, Lyle doesn’t mind,” Layla waved a hand. Her nails were painted pink, too. “Don’t worry about it.”

Remus had been friends with Layla since they were little, competing for best in class usually. She was wicked smart and mellow. Remus could always use some mellow, good conversation—especially with James being James and Luke being…well, whatever Luke was now. Layla liked history, and her family owned the museum, which meant Layla told tales that were, albeit tall, fun to listen to.

Remus leaned against the desk, looking around. “This place never changes, huh?”

Layla laughed, clicking a pen. “History doesn’t tend to change that much, R, and so neither do we. Unlike the world out there.”

“I don’t know about that. Nothing ever feels too different out there,” Remus laughed, too. “But I guess you’re right. I’m glad you’re here, though. Or else I’d be sitting behind this desk by myself.”

“I’m glad you’re here, too,” Layla nodded. “What made you take the job?”

Remus snorted as he rounded the corner, picking up his name badge where Beatrice, Layla’s mother and the museum curator, said it would be. “Don’t pretend we didn’t see each other here when we were little all the time. Not to mention at Gryffindor Club. You, obviously.”

Layla raised an eyebrow. “Me and your mom.”

Remus winced and Layla laughed.

“C’mon, we both know you’d be out on your boat all day if it was up to you.”

Remus laughed. “Fine. But seriously. You’re a perk.”

Layla nodded, rolling her eyes with a smile. “Just a couple of history buffs, I guess.”

Remus shrugged. “There are worse things to be.”

The day was pretty slow. A few tourists here and there, taking photo behind the cardboard cutouts that made you look like you were dressed as a sailor, or a pirate.

“Are there really pirates here?” one little girl had asked Layla.

Remus had smiled when Layla crouched down and whispered to her, “careful, there’s one there,” and pointed at Remus.

When lunch rolled around, Remus expected Layla to pull out a bagged sandwich like him, but instead she scoffed and picked up her bag.

“Come on. We have to get out for a bit.”

Remus shrugged. “All right, where to?”

“The Lion, of course,” Layla replied. “It’s the best food on the island.”

“The Lion,” Remus repeated slowly. “You mean—in The Hollow?”

Layla gave him a look. “Oh, you’re not one of those are you?”

“One of what?” Remus said. “No. I’m not, I just… c’mon, you hear things.”

“Hear things? You’ve never been?”

“Once,” Remus swallowed, thinking of the fight. “It didn’t really go well.”

Layla just shook her head.

“History is just one great field of stories, Remus. You’ll never get to the truth unless you listen to them all.”

And so Remus found himself riding alongside Layla on their bikes and right through Gryffindor. The Hollow didn’t have a sign or anything, but you knew when you were in it. Remus almost wished he had been able to see some sort of line to cross, but everything was just suddenly different. Low houses with open doors, people gathered together and laughing. Kids running with surfboards over their heads, towards Shack Beach. It had seemed even more vibrant in the dark the night of the party, even through the tinted windows of Luke’s car. String lights hung over cookouts, and music blasting from speakers. It had smelled amazing, and Remus would have to say Layla was probably right about the food.

The Lion was just as bright as everything else. It was bustling with lunch-goers, and the doors were flung wide, letting the heat right in. Remus looked around at the people. Some tourists, obviously. Some not. Hollows. Some of them smiled when they caught Remus’ eye, and some narrowed their eyes.

“Hi, Leo, babe,” Layla said as she slid onto a stool at the counter.

There was a blond boy behind it wearing a tank top and a snapback. He smiled as he set some shrimp down in a frier. “Hey, Layla, babe, ça va?”

“Just working. At least I’ve got Remus for company now.”

Remus smiled awkwardly when Leo fixed his blue eyes on him. He really didn’t know what he was waiting for. Something terrible to happen?

Leo only held out a hand. “Leo, nice to meet you.”

“Remus,” Remus said, and took it. He tried not to look at the rainbow bracelet on Leo’s wrist for too long, but he could tell Leo had felt the way his hand tightened. “Yeah—you, too.”

Leo touched it briefly, like an old habit, as he pulled away, giving another smile to Remus.

It didn’t necessarily mean Leo wasn’t straight, but on such a small island, Remus tended to notice these things. He and Luke had figured each other out pretty fast around sixteen. They’d kissed. Once. And then winced, laughed, and shoved each other in the pool. Sometimes Remus wished he and Luke had worked. He didn’t see any other boys coming his way. Leo was smiling at him like he knew what Remus was thinking.

“What can I get you two?” Leo asked.

A boyfriend? Remus thought wistfully.

“Two of your specials, please,” Layla said. “Re, you’re going to lose your mind it’s so good.”

“What’s your special?” Remus asked.

Leo shrugged, but he was grinning. “Like a chef ever gives up his secrets—”

Leo had stopped mid-sentence, eyes going over their shoulders towards the door. Remus turned to look, and a moment later, a brown haired boy was slinging a backpack down carefully between his feet and taking the seat beside Remus.

“Well, look who’s back,” Leo said to him.

The boy glanced at Remus and Layla, then gave a small shrug. “Yeah.”

Leo snorted. “Yeah,” he parroted. “You’re just hungry.”

The boy shrugged again.

Leo sighed, and gave Remus a look that said, can you believe this? before turning back to the stove. “This is Logan guys. Apparently he doesn’t talk today. Three specials. Coming up.”

Logan didn’t recognize the boy sitting at the counter. He didn’t recognize the girl either. Then again, he didn’t recognize many people. He didn’t know anyone. Except Dorcas—if that even counted. And Leo. If that counted, either.

The Felix was heavy in his pack, wedged protectively between his feet, and he wished the strangers would leave so that Leo would talk to him. He hadn’t said two words that weren’t him making sure that Logan liked his food, and asking him where he’d been.

Logan was a little annoyed with him for asking that question. It wasn’t like Leo didn’t know what Logan did. Then again, Leo didn’t know why Logan did what he did.

“You guys get the new madness exhibit up yet, Layla?” Leo was asking the girl with the scarf in her hair. “The one you were telling me about.”

The sandy-haired boy looked up from his food. “The madness exhibit?”

The girl—Layla—cocked her head. “Remus, you…you don’t know?”

“Know what?” the boy—Remus—replied.

Layla sat up a little, looking suddenly awkward. “Your mom donated almost everything we have. I mean…it is your family that’s famous for…”

Remus raised his eyebrows. “Losing their fucking minds?”

Layla winced. “Well, yeah, okay, poor choice of words on my part. But madness isn’t always a bad thing, you know. People say people are crazy all the time. Sometimes they’re just extraordinary.”

Remus looked back down at his food. “My family’s not extraordinary, believe me.”

“Usually extraordinary-ness belongs to one person, I’d say,” Leo said. “My mom’s pretty extraordinary. Doesn’t mean I am.”

“You want to stay on this island, don’t you?” Logan found himself saying. Then, he felt his neck heat and he turned down to his food.

“What’s so extraordinary about that?” Layla replied at the same time as Remus said, “You do?”

Leo just laughed, rolling his eyes at Logan. “I’m with Layla on this one, guys, sorry.”

“What about you, Logan?” Layla asked. “I want the museum after I go to college. At least I think I do. Leo wants The Lion, Remus wants to sail the world…” Remus blushed at that, and Layla’s eyes were very green. “What do you want to do?”

Logan found it strange that they were treating him like that. So normally. Logan knew his necklace was on display. It was easier than explaining why people hadn’t seen him around and pretending to be a tourist. That lead to questions. Being abandoned didn’t. And he was. He was abandoned. People didn’t ask. Most probably thought he had just aged out. People didn’t ask. It was better that way. Logan didn’t have any answers. All he had was the memory of that last night with Finn. Finn had returned to their room, eyes wild and voice urgent.

Come on, Lo, wake up. Wake up, Logan, we have to go. Now.

Logan had felt helplessly awake in the first weeks of being out. He was still sorting through what that meant.

Logan swallowed. “I don’t know. I’m—looking for someone first.”

Remus sighed and mumbled. “Aren’t we all.”

“You are?” Leo asked softly.

Logan nodded. “Or, not looking. I’m just…I’m waiting for someone.”

He knew where Finn was, but Logan knew that he could wait forever and he wouldn’t come. Logan had to take what he wanted. It was a lesson he was learning fast.

“Oh,” Remus replied. “Um…cool. I hope you find them.”

Logan just nodded.

“Well, we should head out,” Layla said, rising. “Gotta get back to work.”

“Sure thing, just pay up front,” Leo smiled. “See you later, Layla.” He nodded at Remus. “Nice to meet you.”

“You, too,” Remus smiled back. “The food was great.”

Logan watched Leo watch them leave, then snort. “That guy looked more spooked than a horse with a snake.”

“Isn’t that what Gods are supposed to look like?” Logan replied.

Leo shrugged. “Usually you can’t see their eyes behind their aviators.”

Logan laughed a little. “Right.” he looked back down at his food, realizing he had begun picking his fries apart, rather than eating them.

“I’m looking for someone too, you know,” Leo broke the silence.

Logan did. Only, he hadn’t thought about it like that. Leo’s dad and Finn. Leo’s dad was probably dead. Finn wasn’t.

“I hope you find him,” Logan replied. “Your dad.”

The Lion was in full swing now, the lunchtime rush loud and boisterous. Leo had a tank top on, and Logan thought he looked a little tired. Sleeplessness showed easily on his skin.

“Do you have to run?” Leo asked instead of responding. “And hide? Like, from the police?”

Logan sat up, instinctively looking behind him. “I assumed I would have to. But…it hasn’t been that difficult.” He laughed a humorless laugh. “I guess I keep overestimating how much people actually care about me. Maybe I should have learned something by now.”

“Maybe you’re just looking at the wrong people,” Leo said quickly, and looked up with a smile, a small one, then down again. “I know a few others who got out. They don’t seem to have trouble, so, you know, if you needed a job or something, you could work in my mom’s workshop. With me. Or here. I’m sure Celeste and Pascal would be all right with it.”

Logan felt taken off guard. “Oh. I…” he thought of the powder packets in his bag. Of the Carrows. How much do you think you owe us by now?

Others? he wanted to ask. What others?

“Just think about it,” Leo said, and turned towards one of the stove tops to check on some boiling water.

“Yeah. Okay.”

They sat in silence for a long moment.

“It’s a boat,” Leo began suddenly, answering Logan’s yet unasked question. The Voldemort. What his father had been looking for. It was almost like Leo was thanking him for telling the truth about his situation. An eye for an eye. A truth for a truth. Logan sort of liked that consistency. “Was a boat. In the eighteenth century.”

“Oh,” Logan said.

“Biggest story on Hogwarts,” Leo said. “Ten thousand pieces of gold, all fallen to the depths of the ocean just off of Hogwarts’ shores…and never seen again.”

“But if it’s just off the shore…”

Leo smiled a little, shaking his head. “But you have to know where off the shore. Otherwise, you have a whole circumference of miles and miles of open water to work with.”

“And your dad figured it out?”

Leo shrugged, expression closing off a little. “He thought he did.” He cleared his throat as he put an order on the counter for a waiter to take away, and ripped another piece of paper down from the line up to look at. “The Cradle. You know it?”

Logan shook his head.

“It’s a sort of…horse shoe shaped cluster of islands, just off of our southern tip.”

“Salazar,” Logan said quietly.

Leo nodded. “Salazar.”

“Your dad was a treasure hunter,” Logan said slowly. “He was looking for a treasure.”

“Yeah,” Leo said, flipping a crab cake in sizzling oil. “He was.”

“And did he find it? Do you want to find it?”

“I don’t know,” Leo whispered, busy hands stilling. “He never came home.”

Logan nodded.

“He wanted to find it,” Leo said softly. “Really badly. And I… I feel like I should.”

“And was he close?”

Leo glanced up from his knife. “Yes.”

“Leonardo,” a voice came suddenly, entering the restaurant. “What does your mother feed you, you gorgeous specimen?”

Logan froze. He knew that voice.

Leo rolled his eyes, and looked at the newcomers. “Fuck off, Saint. Hey, Sirius.”

“Hi,” a second voice came, and it was closer, almost beside Logan at the bar.

Leo’s eyes caught on Logan’s again, probably meaning to introduce him, but he stopped instead.

“What’s wrong?” Leo asked.

But Logan just shook his head, and then the newcomers—Saint and Sirius—were leaning against the bar. Logan felt the breath beside him catch just as his own had, and he turned to look.

Logan thought the boy standing beside him looked different. Older. More muscular. Squarer jaw. But the same. Same eyes. Same shock of blond hair. Same warm, brown skin.

“Logan?” Saint breathed, his eyes disbelieving.

Logan went to open his mouth, when Saint’s arms were around him suddenly.

“It’s Saint,” he said softly, just for Logan’s ears. He squeezed him tighter. “God, you’re here.”

“Saint?” Logan whispered into his shoulder. No one had touched him like this in what felt like forever.

“Yeah,” Saint said. He pulled back and raised an eyebrow. “Okay?”

Logan shrugged. “I…yeah, okay.”

“Knutty,” Saint’s serious expression morphed into a grin. He leaned against the counter, keeping his palm on Logan. “Handsome as ever.”

Logan blinked at Saint, then at Leo. “Knutty?”

Leo rolled his eyes. “Don’t listen to a word he says.”

“Oh, Logan already knows not to do that,” Saint laughed. He tapped his cross necklace. “We’re practically brothers.”

“Oh,” Leo blinked. “Right.”

The other boy—Sirius—looked just as taken aback.

“Oh, sweetheart,” Saint called in a sing-song voice, looking at Sirius. “Order for us, won’t you? And get us a table? Logan,” Saint nodded towards the door. “Come hither.”

Logan was so thankful to see Saint, he nearly tripped while getting up. A familiar face. A familiar anything. Saint had gotten out almost seven years ago. He’d been there one day, in his bed, in classes, in the courtyard, and gone the next.

“Sweetheart?” Logan asked, glancing back inside at the dark-haired boy, Sirius.

Saint just put his hands on Logan’s arms, eyes more intent than Logan had ever seen them, then on Logan’s cheeks. “Holy shit, how did you get out?”

Logan felt his heart slow, then speed up. He swallowed dryly. “Finn. How did you?”

Saint ignored the question.

“Finn,” Saint repeated, nodding. “Of course. When?”

“About a month ago. And he—he’s still in there,” Logan said. “He’s…And I’m—”

“I hear you,” Saint said. He jerked his head over to the table. “Not now. Let’s get back.”

“Saint?” Logan asked again.

Saint rolled his eyes. “Leave it alone. For now.”

Saint hadn’t been ready. He hadn’t seen Logan in nine years, but he’d know his face anywhere. All eyelashes and sad, green eyes. A smile he wore with Finn only. He looked spooked now, and tired. They’d sat at the bar, watching one of Leo’s shifts go and another one come, then moved to a table. Watching it get dark outside now, Saint wondered where Logan had been living for a month.

He eyed the backpack that Logan held so protectively close, and thought of the way Dorcas did the same thing.

Saint had a bad feeling.

“So, how’d you two meet?” Sirius said, gesturing between Logan and Leo with a fry when Leo brought over more water.

“Party,” Leo shrugged after a moment of hesitation. “Shack Beach.” He jerked his head at Saint. “You two were there, judging by Sirius’ shiner. Could hear that fight at my house, probably.”

Sirius rolled his eyes. “I didn’t start it.”

“True,” Saint said, wondering how he had missed Logan that night. “Some God—albeit a beautiful one—thought we were selling Crucio.”

Saint flicked his eyes over to Logan. Sure enough, he blushed.

Saint cocked his head. “The horror. Dangerous stuff.”

Leo looked at Saint quietly, and glanced at Logan, then back to him. Saint nodded. Got it, it said.

“Well, would you look who it is,” said a deep voice from behind them, and then there were two strong arms around Saint and Sirius. Pascal placed a loud kiss on each of their heads.

“Eck,” Sirius laughed. “You smell like grease, old man.”

Pascal Dumais laughed. “Grease that feeds you, maybe. And who’s this?”

“Dumo, meet Logan,” Saint said. “Logan, meet Pascal. He owns the Lion with his wife, Celeste.”

“The most beautiful woman in the world,” Pascal said, accent heavy. “Logan, it’s nice to meet you.”

Saint watched Pascal eye Logan’s necklace.

“We were together at Saint Clair,” he supplied.

“Maybe not so loud,” Logan said harshly. “Saint.”

“Oh?” Pascal said, and squinted at Logan. “Who are you with now, mon cher?”

Saint watched Logan open his mouth, frozen, and was about to speak up when—

“Me,” Leo cut in. He looked down at the carrots he was chopping as he said it. “Me and my mom.”

Oh, Saint thought.

“Oh, Leonardo,” Saint sighed. “Un ange.”

“Not my name,” Leo said.

“I know.”

“Yeah,” Logan replied to Pascal’s still questioning gaze. “Yeah.”

“I see,” Pascal nodded. “Well, I’m happy you and your mother will have a helping hand now. I miss your father dearly, mon fils.” He smiled sadly at Leo.

Leo just nodded. “Yeah.”

“Him and his treasure, eh?” Pascal said. “A wonderful man. I miss going out on that boat of his.”

Leo’s smile was small, but fond. “Those were some of his favorite mornings.”

“Treasure?” Sirius asked.

“Black!” a new voice shouted. “Thank fuck.”

Saint looked up when Sirius did. James and Remus were barreling towards them from the dark outside.

“Good lord,” Saint said. “Rain, from Olympus. Water my crops, why don’t you.”

“James?” Sirius said. “What are you—”

James and Remus walked right up to their table—Remus looking slightly more reluctant. “We have a question.”

“How did you know we were here?” Sirius raised an eyebrow. “I mean, just…it’s a little out of your way, non?”

“Remus came here earlier, and when I told him—well, you’ll see—he said maybe you’d be here.”

Saint watched Sirius’ eyes narrow at Remus, confused. “Okay…”

“Well, it’s good to see you again, tweedle-hot,” Saint said to Remus. “Up close this time. We actually though you were going to sail right out of sight this morning.”

Sirius stepped on his toe beneath the table.

“Excuse me?” Remus choked out. “What the fuck did you—”

James blinked at Saint, then shook his head, as if to right his thoughts. “All right, setting every strange thing that comes out of your mouth aside for a moment —where is Dorcas?”

“Meadowes?” Logan chimed in.

James’ eyes turned on him. “You know her?”

Saint raised his hand. “I have the same question.”

“Well,” Logan hesitated. “Sure.”

“And she sells Felix,” James said, as if trying to confirm the information.

Logan narrowed his eyes. “Says you.”

James sighed. “I’m not here to turn her in, Jesus, I just have a question.”

“Do…” Sirius was looking at Logan. “Do you sell…”

“What kind of question?” Saint cut in.

Remus spoke up. “A does-she-deal-to-Luke type of question.”

Saint laughed. “Deveaux?”

“You know who Luke is, Saint,” Remus sighed.

“Well, yeah I do, Lupin, he tried to buy off me,” Saint shook his head with a tisking sound. “Turns out he’s a prejudice piece of eye candy. Who knew.”

“Come on,” James sighed, rubbing his eyes beneath his glasses. “Please, Sirius, come on.”

Sirius shrugged. “We don’t know who Dorcas deals to. We’re not involved.”

“If you did would you tell us?”

Sirius smiled, just a little. “Probably not. But I really don’t know.”

James sighed, sagging away from the table. He looked at Remus. “Fuck.”

“What were you hoping to accomplish here?” Sirius asked slowly.

“We—” Remus said, then sighed, too. “We were going to see if she would agree to stop. If it was her, if she would stop giving it to him.”

“We’d pay her,” James added. “Obviously.”

Saint scoffed, and Logan laughed a little, too, from beside him.

“Obviously,” Saint mimicked.

“We just meant—” Remus began.

“We know what you meant,” Sirius said.

Saint popped a fry into his mouth. “If we’ll clean your pools for a few bucks, we’ll grant you three wishes, too.”

“Jesus, Saint,” James groaned.

“Mary. Joseph—”

James ran his hands through his hair. “We’re sorry, we misspoke. We’re just trying to help our friend. His dad got taken to jail, his mom pops pills all day and night. That’s already draining what little money the bank didn’t seize and if he wants to do anything with his life he needs a straight head. Just—fuck, we’re just asking.”

Saint prided himself on gathering information, but most of that were things he didn’t know. Luke’s dad had got taken away. But the pills? The financial distress? All of that paired with that guarded snarl the boy always seemed to wear…it almost made Saint feel sorry for Luke Deveaux. He almost said so.

Instead, he said, while twirling the cross around his neck. “Wow, he must feel like an orphan or something.”

“All right,” Remus sighed. “James, let’s just go.”

“What does he look like?” Logan said suddenly before they could turn to leave.

James looked a him warily. “Um. Sort of blond-ish. More brown-haired, I guess. Big guy, built and tall and all that. Oh, he’s got this green spot in one eye.”

Logan nodded. James raised an eyebrow. Saint waited.

“How much will you pay me to stop selling to him?” Logan finally said. He rose as he did, slinging his backpack over one shoulder. “That’s a lot out of my pocket.”

“Logan,” Saint said, but Logan didn’t look at him.

James blinked. “I—oh. Oh, uh—God, what do you want? Two hundred?”

"One grand,” Logan said.

James laughed. “Dude. Who the fuck are you? No, I don’t have that much just—on me.”

“Logan,” Saint warned again, and this time Logan did look at him. Saint shook his head softly.

“Fine,” Logan said through his teeth, and held out his hand. “Two.”

James took his wallet out and handed over the cash.

“Thanks,” Remus said from a little behind James’ shoulder. “Really.”

Logan just nodded, shoved the bills into his pocket, and headed for the door.

“Pardon,” Saint sent a grin to them all, and followed him.

Once they were outside, Saint gave him a wack on the back of the head.

“Fuck,” Logan swore. “S—”

“You get out of that shit-hole and you go around selling Crucio? To Gods?”

“I—”

“I mean, seriously, what the fuck was that? Do you know how not careful that was?”

“I don’t even know who that boy is,” Logan bit back.

Saint blinked. “What?”

Logan looked out towards the ocean where they could hear the waves crashing against the shore. “He offered to pay, and so I told him what he wanted to hear. When his friend shows up hallucinating next, that’s their problem.”

Saint scoffed. “Fine, okay, clever boy. But you do sell Crucio.”

“Felix,” Logan countered. “And yes.”

“Crucio. And no.”

Logan shrugged. “I need the money.”

“For what?”

Logan looked at him and, this time, his eyes were hard. Desperate. “For Finn.”

Saint froze. He opened his mouth, and then closed it. “Excuse me?”

“If I can get enough cash, I can get Finn,” Logan said.

Saint stared at him, and then Saint laughed. Then, he laughed louder.

“You’re shitting me,” Saint said. “You think that?”

“What do you…”

“You think you can buy Finn out?” Saint repeated incredulously. “You think you can walk back in there and buy Finn out.”

Logan took a breath. “He—”

“Logan, Jesus Christ,” Saint snapped. “You walk anywhere near that place and you are never getting back out.” Saint pressed a hand to Logan’s shoulder and shook him. “Do you hear me?”

“I need to do something,” Logan shouted back. “I need to do something, I can’t just leave him in there, he’s everything to me.”

Saint shook his head. “He got you out. Don’t waste that.”

Logan nodded, eyes bright with tears now. “And you know he got punished for it. You know he did—”

“Stop,” Saint spat, glancing around, as if anyone could hear. “Don’t.”

“You could help me,” Logan said, wiping his nose. “Bash, you got out once—”

“No,” Saint said, and turned away. “No. And don’t call me that. Don’t you ever call me that.”

“Please,” Logan begged. “Please—Saint.”

Saint whirled on him again. “I am never going near there, and neither are you. Finn’s still in there, fine. But he’ll need to get himself free like us if he wants it bad enough.”

“I owe money,” Logan began, then his breathing hitched. “I owe them, I took some of it to see—to see Finn and…Bash—Saint—”

“Them?” Saint took a step forward. “Them?”

Logan pressed a hand over his eyes, but Saint walked forward and pulled it away.

“Logan,” he said lowly. “Tell me you didn’t.”

Logan closed his eyes, mouth twisting against his tears.

“Tell me, right now, that you didn’t let the Carrows tell you they’d help you. And that you didn’t believe them.”

Logan shook his head, not in negation, but in defeat. “I need him. I need him, I’m so…I’m alone.”

Saint pulled Logan against his chest and let him cry. The sobs heaved out of him for a long while, until the collar of Saint’s shirt was wet. Until Logan was breathing softly again, exhausted, and until his voice sounded shot when he spoke.

“You’re really staying with Leo?” Saint asked, more gently this time.

Logan nodded.

“I have a place, too. Here, in The Hollow. If you want.”

“With the others?” Logan rasped.

“What others?”

“How many others are out?” Logan said softly.

Saint shook his head, fingers in Logan’s hair. “Just me, that I know of.”

“You still wear it,” Logan said, pulling back to look at him. “The cross.”

Saint let his hands drop with a last touch to Logan’s hot cheek. “So do you.”

They were both silent.

“I’m sorry about Finn,” Saint said rigidly. “I know how much he meant to you.”

Logan’s brows pulled together. “He’s not dead.”

Saint nodded. “Right.”

“Saint…” Logan began, and Saint heard the almost B instead. “Would you—just thinking about it—“

“No,” Saint said, and then turned and went back inside.

Sirius, back at the table, looked at his face, and then at his wet shirt.

“Okay?” he asked softly when Saint sat down.

“Just dandy,” Saint replied, and looked towards the door. Logan was gone.

#warnings: brief mention of drugs and past abuse and death of a father #relic keel #lumosinlove #relic keel lumosinlove #wolfstar #wolfstar fic #saint #lumosinlove ocs #Logan tremblay #Leo knut #lelo #Logan Tremblay x Leo knut #o'knutzy

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bisexuallsokka · 3 years

Note

can i say congrats for being a lesbian? is that weird? congrats on coming out at least ahdhdjska, but i also just congrats for having an awesome sexuality

but im here also to say that i love hearing that you’re a lesbian and have the url bisexual Sokka cause that bi/lesbian solidarity is so nice!!! (im bi lol)

(im sure that you wouldn’t think this, but just wanted to clarify that in no way am i saying you have to keep the url bisexual Sokka. if you wanna choose a lesbian character to rep instead that’s totally awesome cause pride and everything. although i would be sad if you stopped posting zukka. but yeah jus wanted to make sure my bi/lesbian solidarity was coming across as a celebration and not any sort of expectation or anything)

anyway, congrats on being visible, you’re loved for you and all the wonderful things about you. have a wonderful day!

first of all i love the bisexuals hell yes for bi/lesbian solidarity and thank u for this sweet message <3

second of all i will not stop posting zukka anytime soon lmao

third of all this url was one i came up with on the spot with every intention to change it but i. never did. and never got around to thinking of a better one. and i’ve had it for a hot minute now so it’ll probably be here to stay for a while lol

#that being said if anyone has a good saved url u think i would like hmu #again i am fairly attached to this one but i’m also open to change #anonymous #ask me stuff

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doodleodds · 3 years

Note

I really, really, REALLY love your train!palace AU.

I was just curious if you have any other HCs for potential palaces — for either Akechi or Akira.

You don’t have to do any drawings or anything, I just loved reading about all your little details for the train AU and I’m starving for more haha

Ah thank you! I’m really glad you liked it!!! ^u^ I don’t really have any other hcs that i’m planning to draw (as of right now anyway B) ), but I did have an Akira palace concept a while ago that I’ll talk about below the cut if you’re interested! :)

(its kind of long cause once I started typing I just started rambling, so be warned)

Thanks for the ‘you dont have to draw anything’ by the way, lol xD There’s 1 drawing cause I couldn’t help myself though ;P

So, I dont know if it’ll be what you were hoping for, but a while ago i was thinking about an Akira palace about feeling overwhelmed that’s maybe called “Balancing Act” (i was thinking about calling it like. ‘tilting tower’ or something cause I think ‘tilting tower toppled’ would be a funny achievement to get once you beat it, but that just sounds too much like the fortnite thing and i cant handle that lmao), which the thieves (sans akechi- this will be explained later) probably realize exists somewhere around the end of sae’s palace.

Since the palace isn’t really akira’s distortion of a place so much as it is his distortion of what’s expected of him, his keywords could probably be something like “everyone’s happiness” and “his responsibility”? And I guess the location could just be leblanc since that’s where he lives?? I haven’t really. thought this part out too heavily lol ^^; feel free to interpret it as you’d like.

It’s probably been done before, but the whole thing is based around the idea of akira's shadow manifesting as atlas, but instead of holding up the weight of the sky, he’s holding the growing weight of people’s expectations. So, the palace itself is....you guessed it.....a tilting building! wow! It’s only not completely falling over because akira’s holding it up from the foundation, since it’s full of people he’s afraid to let down :)

sort of like that. it doesn’t have to be an apartment building, obviously. In all honesty what’s in my head is just like. a giant white cube. cause i really don’t know what “feeling responsible for other people’s continued happiness” would manifest as aside from something that could maybe hold cognitions of said people, so please accept the apartment building for now lmao (again feel free to interpret as you like)! And his outfit is definitely subject to change, i just stuck him in the first thing that came to mind xD

“BUT SOPHIA,” i hear you asking, “IF AKIRA’S RIGHT THERE, CAN’T THE PT JUST FIGHT HIM AND TAKE HIS TREASURE REALLY QUICKLY?” NO, you fool!! He’s holding up the weight of the world! does it LOOK like he’s got time to fight, let alone know where the hell his treasure is?? It being Akira’s palace, of course he cuts a deal with them- find his treasure and they can just keep it since it’ll be a weight off his mind (literally), in exchange for someone bearing the building for just a few minutes so he can have a break before they actually leave with the treasure. The thieves agree to this and eventually head into the building he’s holding up (i thought the thieves stealing his treasure literally adding weight to his mind/being another burden he has to shoulder was a funny concept here), and begin searching.

pretty much at this point I just figured the goal would be scaling the building, since the treasure is most likely at the top? (cause i mean honestly speaking if it’s not with akira, where else would it be. just finding it sitting in the middle of the fifth floor seems anti-climactic). As they ascend, they realize everything is in perfect equilibrium, perfectly balanced on both sides of the building so it helps it not topple. E.g., on one floor one side of the hall has a ryuji cognition while the other has an ann cognition, or something to that effect.

Earlier I mentioned the thieves sans akechi finding out about this palace late into the infiltration of sae’s because if the thieves were to discover akira had a palace, i doubt they’d tell akechi when they know he’s going to betray them and wouldn’t want him to purposefully muck up their infiltration. I also thought it would be interesting to see an akechi cognition in the palace, and maybe have it purposefully doing something to throw akira off balance (a consequence of him knowing about the assassination plot, explaining why it would be late in sae’s palace)? my initial thought was literally something like ‘the thieves walk into a room just in time to see the akechi cognition step off the edge of the balcony and un-balance the building, causing the gimmick of the palace to become having to leave a party member behind to keep it balanced every time something throws it off-balance on their way to reach the top’ or something. but idk! that seems a little extreme and i didn’t really put any thought into how they’d get back down afterward, so. just consider there being a trouble-maker akechi cognition, lol. ^^;

anyway! they reach the top eventually, the treasure’s there. hooray! they head back down to send the calling card. I genuinely don’t know whether akira knows about his palace or not in this au or whether he even wants the pt to steal his heart, but. He gets a calling card none-the-less, since whatever is causing his distortion is harmful to him and his friends want to help him. And I don’t feel like exploring the potential consequences of it being his choice or not rn >o>

So the pt go back in to steal the treasure! And it goes really easily. in and out! but before they can leave, Akira’s shadow asks them to uphold their part of the deal- someone take the weight of the palace for him for a minute so he can know what it’s like to exist without the weight of that on his shoulders for a minute before he disappears. Now...if you know anything about atlas’ encounter with heracles, you know that he tries to trick him into holding up the sky indefinitely. WELL! guess what happens when one of the pt takes up his mantle under the building. Akira’s like “oh gee, thank you! you’re a great friend.” and then yoinks his treasure from the others and tells them they’re going to have to try to take it from him. he’s got people relying on him, and he needs this in order to keep them happy!!

the supposed gimmick of the palace continues, in that the PT are always one party member down during the boss fight (maybe you can switch out whose holding it? i don’t see why you couldn’t, so long as someone always is).

This is where my planning on the palace kind of ends, because I’m not sure what akira’s shadow turns into during the bossfight. Back when i first got into p5 vanilla, i didn’t have a whole palace au but i had a kinda melancholy akira shadow encounter thought out, where when his friends ask why he hasn’t transformed into a monster during his boss fight he says something like “i’ve got a palace. i’m already a monster, aren’t I?” or something to that effect. so, that’s an option, but it sort of doesn’t fit the vibe so... idk! again feel free to interpret it as you will lmao.

When they do defeat him and get his treasure back, he tells them to get out of the palace before it collapses and takes the (now probably crumbling) building from whoever’s currently holding it. The thieves feel bad leaving him there, and he tries to convince them that he’s heading back to his real self in a few moments so they shouldn’t worry, but they all band together for a hot minute and help him hold up the palace even as it collapses, and it’s like. a show of solidarity? Like a “you can call on us if you need help” kinda thing? and they’re with him till he disappears and they escape.

Not sure what happens when they get back to the real world or what akira’s treasure turns out to be (i’ve seen other aus where its his probation notebook so. maybe that?), but thats it!

...yep. i’m not as attached to it as the train one (cause its not got goro in it lmao), but! that’s what i got. :>

thanks for asking though, anon! I hope that was what you were looking for!

#i'm glad you liked the train palace au though!! ^u^#and thanks for asking- i wouldn't have done anything about this one if you hadn't asked #p5

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nat-20s · 3 years

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📕

I got five words for you: jonmartin pride and prejudice au

More words on this- i think i deserve aus where Jon is the one that starts pining real hard real fast while Martin is like UGH this FUCKIN GUY...oh wait...unless...... and what better au than one of the best love stories ever imo. like god pride and prejudice slaps so fucking hard it is the MOLD which all "not technically enemies but definitely people that didn't want to end up at the same parties to lovers" has been built and "grumpy character that's secretly a ball of awkwardness but cares SO SO DEEPLY about His People" with "Personable and charming character that's deeply sarcastic but also secretly just as flawed and complex as grumpy character" is SO FUCKING GOOD AND ALSO!! THEY!!!!

My casting list:

Mr. Darcy- Jon (self explanatory, bad at first impressions, full of love)

Lizzie Bennent- Martin (also self explanatory, funny and sarcastic, lowkey highkey judgemental, kind of goin through it tbh!!)

Mrs. Bennet- Martin's mum, but like. Less awful. Still not great, but at least slightly cares about the wellbein of her son.

Mr. Bennet but not really, mixed with the Gardners- Simon Fairchild. is NOT married to martin's mum, but is the uncle figure that sort of fills a couple of roles

Jane Bennet- Sasha :-) (she's Martin's older half sister in this au, and he ADORES her. Shared mom, different dads)

Kitty/Mary- not in this au lmao

Lydia Bennet, sort of- Gerry. Is actually a live in nurse to Martin's mom, but ends up in the shitty situation that Jon secretly helps out with

Charles Bingley- Tim!!! foot loose and trauma free because his brother is fine in this. speaking of,

Caroline Bingley- Danny. I'm so sorry danny u were probably a nice dude in tma canon before you got got but in this au you're petty and low key in love with jon. that's the way the cookie crumbles sometimes okay

Charlotte Lucas- Basira. Not a cop in this, obviously. But like..getting married for practical reasons rather than romantic? that seems very much a basira move to me

Mr Collins- Daisy lmao. WILDLY different personalities, but fufills the narrative role of proposing to Martin initally to end up marrying basira instead. Instead of being a pastor, works security for Lady Catherine

Lady Catherine- Gertrude. Not actually related to Jon, but basically took him on as a ward when his parents died. She doesn't technically control his estate, but she considers herself in charge nonetheless. Expects him to marry her nephew

Anne De Bourgh- Micheal Shelly. Justification is that i mostly thought it would be funny

Georgiana Darcy- who else but Georgie? Not Jon's sister, but she is his other best friend, and she DO be wingmanning

Colonel Fitzwilliam- Melanie! I feel like she would absolutely think she was hyping Jon up when in reality it's like *activates Martin's rage mode*. Also idk i feel like the original character were also mlm/wlw solidarity and I want that to stay

W*ckh*m- okay I want to say this beforehand, but he is NOT a romantic interest for anyone in this au, and he uses/ manipulates people in an entirely different way than wickham does in p and p, with all the focus on the financial aspect. He's a schuckster, not a seducer. But yeah anyway it's elias/jonah. Ugh.

so. yeah. There's definitely some alterations I would make to the original canon, and im not sure if it would be regency or semi modern or anachronistic, but yeah. What it says on the tin. Pride and Prejudice au.

#replies #dreameronthewind #tma talk #jonmartin #fics i haven't written meme

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makeste · 3 years

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HEY QUEEN YOU BRIGHTEN MY FRIDAYS ITS MY FAVORITE DAY OF THE WEEK NOW ILY A LOT AND YOU MADE ME REALIZE I MIGHT BE ACE ALL IN ALL YOU KIND OF CHANGED MY LIFE A BIT EVEN THO WE DON'T KNOW EACH OTHER SO TY YOURE BEAUTIFUL ILY U DESERVE THE WORLD I ALSO MIGHT START REBORN BC YOUR TASTES ARE IMPECCABLE AND I ALSO WOULD BE ABLE TO READ YOUR FANFICS SO WHY NOT!!!!! IF ITS HALF AS GOOD AS BNHA ILL BE HAPPY ANYWAY!!! I HOPE THIS ASK BRIGHTENED YOUR DAY/NIGHT<33333333333333333333

anon sorry for the late reply, but this ask absolutely did brighten my day, thank you so much. <3333

and regarding KHR, it’s one of my favorite manga ever, but FULL DISCLOSURE it’s not on the same level as BnHA at all lol. I say that with all the love in the world. I love it so much, but I want to make sure anyone who checks it out has reasonable expectations going in, because otherwise I think it’s harder to get through. a few heads up:

the first 60 or so chapters are just straight up humor/crack, no other way to describe it. they are weird af. like however weird you’re imagining them, they’re AT LEAST 50% weirder than that, and definitely not to everyone’s taste, even though I love them lol. some people just skip them entirely, although I wouldn’t necessarily recommend this because you do miss out on some character development, as well as a handful of plot developments that will crop up later. and more importantly, there’s this weird thing I like to call “the KHR effect” where after reading through 60+ chapters of bizarre antics featuring these strange mafia people, the manga suddenly gets dead serious and suddenly the characters are in danger and stuff, and you suddenly realize that at some point you started to love them and care about them and it just sort of snuck up on you and omg.

the art doesn’t start out great, but eventually turns into the prettiest character art you’ve ever seen, and once again it sneaks the fuck up on you and when you finally realize it it’s like “holy shit.”

the plot is straight up RIDICULOUS, but what makes the series is its characters. god I love the characters so much.

that said, I may disrespect the plot, but the Varia arc (which is the third arc in the series) is still one of the best arcs I’ve ever read in any series. for me it’s the gold standard of tournament-style arcs.

KHR unfortunately is pretty abysmal when it comes to having female characters who actually get to do anything and have any impact on the plot at all. they’re mostly just there to get rescued and/or to cook and clean for the other characters. not even kidding. I hate it so much. it’s probably the series’ biggest negative so I’m just being up front.

and the plot really starts to fall apart towards the end, although I do enjoy the final manga arc regardless (you just have to turn your brain off for parts of it lol).

THAT SAID, I think it’s an enjoyable read overall. well like I said, it’s still one of my favorite manga ever, so I guess it’s a given that I think that lol. it’s definitely not for everyone though! but if you like absurdly pretty characters who are all hella gay for each other and have cool jewelry-related powers and crack!mafia adventures, it’s pretty damn great.

anyway! thank you again, and also high five aro/ace solidarity, and I hope you have a fantastic day, anon. <3

#khr #asks #anon asks #one of these days I'll finish that final missing chapter from my last fic sob #btw I feel like this post is like anti-hyping the series lol #but I swear to god that's not the intent #it's just that it's one of those series that reads so much better if you know a little bit about what you're getting into #but please know I have so much love for this series #and it will always have a special place in my heart

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the-hopeless-haze · 3 years

Text

Somebody Sit in My Chair and Ruin My Sleep (Being Alive Ch 15)

A/N: Idk how I feel about this chapter but here u go I guess lol

Previous Chapter

content warnings: implied smut

WC: 1.9k

Rafael didn’t have any idea what he was walking into on Monday morning, but Jesus Christ, the fact that you let the squad know what happened - down to the very last detail, it seemed - was a horror show. Amanda avoids him in some show of female solidarity, Nick shoots him sympathetic looks, and Sonny - fucking Sonny asks Rafael how he is and won’t stop asking how you were, if he’d heard from you.

But why should he expect mercy from the woman who turned down his proposal?

And maybe he deserved it. Maybe he should’ve tried to read the room instead of just pushing forward. You had been right - that night certainly wasn’t the prime time for a proposal in the slightest. Hindsight is always 20/20, and he keeps remembering moments where you were slipping away inch by inch like sand past his fingertips, and he can’t believe how stupid he was that he chose to swallow it down and chalk it up as nothing instead of sitting down and actually talking to you.

Still, communication is a two way street, and instead of sending him vague signals that he was too obtuse to decipher, you could’ve sat down and talked to him too.

It’s so much easier to assign blame than take it, isn’t it?

Ultimately, though, he just couldn’t believe you weren’t on the same page as him. Didn’t you always say you wanted all these things? Weren’t you happy that Rafael finally felt he was ready, too? Perhaps though, in the midst of all his internal turmoil he truly forgot to assess your feelings on the matter. Yes, you said you wanted children, yes, your parents constantly threw comments his way about settling down with you, and yes, you’d told him on multiple occasions he wasn’t too old to get married if that’s truly what he wanted.

But where was your actual opinion on marrying him in any of this? It was lost in between the need you no doubt felt to constantly comfort Rafael about his current misgivings and past misfortunes and your parents’ well-meaning but busy-bodied comments. It was clouded by Rafael’s own mother’s opinions, and hell, even Sonny’s - everyone was so afraid Rafael was going to lose you that they pressured him into offering you a ring and a promise of forever - but little did anyone know that by doing just that... he had in fact lost you anyway.

His mother was devastated, weeping about how you would’ve made such a lovely bride, how she was already looking at suits for Rafael and venues for the wedding... he couldn’t handle it and left her apartment after ten minutes of her lamentation. He should’ve never told her, he should’ve never been so sure of what was going on in your head, because now he realizes he never had any idea. No one did.

So now, he snaps at Sonny, because Sonny is guilty by way of telling him “oh sure, she’ll say yes” like anyone knew what the fuck you would do when the question was finally asked. Maybe you didn’t even know until he was down on one knee. Still, Rafael can’t help wondering if things would be different if the car accident never happened - deep down, he knows there were signs you were pulling away after Thanksgiving, but it’s so much easier to blame Sonny for it. You wouldn’t have sunk so low in a deep depression if you could’ve worked, if you weren’t immobilized by your injury... but would you have loved Rafael enough anyway?

“Will you shut the fuck up?” Rafael hisses at the younger detective. “You’ve been talking my ear off all morning.”

“Whoa, Barba, wake up on the wrong side of the bed today or what? I was just getting you up to speed on the case—“

“I’ve read the file. You don’t need to.”

“Fine. Liv’s in her office but I suggest cooling the attitude, because she’s not in a good mood either. Noah was sick and kept her up all night.”

“Lovely.”

And then, by some sick twist of fate, you walk through the door, and Rafael’s stomach turns. Never did you look so gorgeous, so beautiful, so fucking untouchable than you did now. It’s the first time in weeks he’s seen you in a blazer and slacks, the first time he’s seen you look like you gave a shit in months. And maybe that’s unfair - you were struggling, per your own admission - but it almost feels like all you had to do was lose the weight of Rafael and all his baggage that came with being in a relationship with him, and you were good as new.

He wonders how many of his exes could tell a similar story to yours, if that were truly the case.

You meet his eyes for a split second and he wants to drop dead. You give him a haughty smirk and head over to Amanda’s desk, turning your back to him.

Why couldn’t you just fucking leave like you’d said you would? It’d be so much easier if you did just go back home but like everything else that came out of your mouth that was merely a half baked promise you had no intention of making good on.

And maybe Rafael should’ve called you this weekend, but he couldn’t swallow his pride and come back to you with his tail between his legs after you rejected the proposal he’d worked all his life to be able to give. You never called him either, but if this was going to go anywhere, someone would have to talk first.

But shouldn’t it have to be you? You’re the one who asked for space. He’s giving it. What the fuck else was he supposed to do?

But now that you’re not living with him, now that you’re not even with him at all, you’re completely unpredictable. Never in his wildest dreams did he think you’d come over to him and Sonny, flash him your best sardonic lipglossed smile, and ask to borrow Sonny for a moment.

Rafael can’t even think straight, he can barely breathe, the rage coming up like bile and tightening his throat. How could you stand there and act like nothing was different now?

“Sure,” he snaps.

“Whoa, no need for the attitude, Rafael,” you say sweetly. “We can all play nice, right?”

Rafael doesn’t say anything, can’t say anything… he just shakes his head and walks to Olivia’s office. How could you compartmentalize like that, he’d love to know. Wasn’t this killing you, too?

The rest of the day proves to go by smoother, thankfully, albeit minor annoyances that come up like a snippy altercation with Olivia due to both of their bad moods and a taxi driver haggling him about the fare. Rafael still cannot wait to come back to his office and savor his fourth cup of coffee today after running around the city all morning, put his feet up and do some paperwork…

But you’re there, in his chair, with your feet up on his desk.

“Get out,” Rafael says before you can utter a word.

“I want to talk,” you say innocently.

“I don’t. Get out. Who the hell let you in here?”

“Carmen, duh. She still thinks we’re together, apparently.”

“Do I have to call security?”

You stare at him blankly. “You’d really call security?”

Rafael rolls his eyes, throws his briefcase on a nearby chair. “What the hell do you want?”

“Where do we go from here?”

“Nowhere. You ended it.”

“Okay, no, I just said I needed space. I didn’t end it--”

“Right. I need to work.”

“Okay. We’ll meet later then,” you nod, standing up.

“I didn’t agree--”

“I’ll be back in a few hours. I got to head back to the precinct in fifteen minutes anyway.”

Rafael hates doing this, showing a moment of vulnerability, but he has to ask, “Are you staying? In New York, I mean.”

“For now,” you say, softening too. “Obviously. I talked to Liv for a long time, talked to my dad.. And… I don’t know if being back home is the best course for me either. I’m just trying to get back to some semblance of normal, you know?”

“Right.”

“I’ll see you,” you say, walking past him and leaving his office.

How many years would it be before he did figure you out?

------

The two of you don’t really talk much at first when you reunite later on that evening. Rafael draws the shades in his office, and it’s all pulling at clothes, at skin, at hair and you’re not proud of it but you also don’t really regret that you let it get that far. You missed him, in an annoyingly cloying way, and what was better than makeup sex when the two of you were still pissed off at each other?

“You need…. You need to go to therapy,” Rafael pants after coming down from his high.

You have to laugh at that. Maybe that was only the 7th most offensive thing someone had said to you after sex. And, annoyingly, he was right, even if his delivery and timing could’ve been light years better.

“Mm. I know,” you tell him, pulling him in to kiss him again, his sweaty chest sticking to your back as you pull off him to lay, or rather squeeze next to him on the couch.

“You need to--”

“Let’s not get into the shit I need to do right now, okay? I know I have things to sort out. So do you.”

“Right. I’m sorry. I’m trying to help, and I’m trying to understand, but--”

“Right now… don’t. Just fuck me like that again.”

Rafael chuckles - damn, it was only two days and you missed his laugh that much? It just tugs on your heartstrings in the worst way, but you suppose it proves how much you love him, how you couldn’t just put this down. You hated being the first to let your guard down, to bring yourself to his office not once but twice… but you couldn’t bear to lose him, either, and you’d hurt him where no one else had. It had to be you who offered a new start.

“I need to eat, mujer. And as tempting as that sounds… we need a change in location anyway.”

You nod in assent. “Fine.”

Neither of you get much sleep that night, as you split a bottle of wine and a pizza and talk, cry, fuck, whatever… but it’s a long sleepless night you wouldn’t have traded for the world. Things are different between you two, naturally, but something has to be shed to grow, and maybe you left some good things behind along with the bad things, but it’s how these things go. You can’t expect a relationship to be standing firm after a rejected proposal. For the moment, you’re just happy the two of you found a way to get back up.

As you curl into Rafael’s arms at four in the morning, you don’t feel at peace - lord knows you still have so many things to worry about - but you do feel better, and if that’s all you can get right now, you had to be okay with that.

Taglist (ask if you wanted to be added!) @stormtrooperofficerbrowneyes @thatesqcrush @law-nerd105 @blackeyedangel9805 @moon-river-drifter @the-baby-bookworm @dianilaws @xecq @lv7867 @teddybluesclues @averyhotchner @houseofthirst @stardust-fray

#rafael barba #rafael barba x reader #barba x reader #barba #Law & Order SVU #SVU fanfiction #rafael barba x you #barba x you

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vampireqrow-moved · 3 years

Text

um its my birthday so wait until 12:01am pst to block me if u hate this post 🥰🥰

long story short the pansexual label is redudant and actively harmful (its far from the worst problem bisexuals face but it is one issue) and i dont hate anyone who identifies as pan because A) those ppl are bi like me and B) i used to identify as pan myself.

if thats enough for you to block me and make a callout post for me then i cant stop you but pretty please either read this whole thing or just wait a few minutes for my bday to end 🥰🥰

anyways im kicking off this point with some personal experiences bc i love to talk to myself. i got introduced to the pan label at maybe 10ish years old, and started identifying with it pretty much right away. i heard about it before bisexual and it was pitched as attraction to all genders and of course trans people. i was of course a trans ally! i had trans friends! i was trans also but hadnt figured it out yet! the way i had heard of it, there was no bisexual, there was no need for bisexual, and identifying differently was excluding trans people, which I was certainly against. being bisexual was trans exclusionary and why would i exclude trans people? the 'hearts not parts' slogan was thriving around this time and i genuinely said it and meant it.

as i started to become more online, mostly through roleplaying websites and tumblr here, i started hearing of bisexuality. it was supposedly an older term, so older people still used it, but it was common knowledge that pansexual was the better, inclusive label and younger people should adopt the new inclusive language instead of the old and transphobic words like bisexual. /s

and then bi and pan solidarity was all the rage! pansexual wasnt erasing bisexuality, why did anyone ever think that? bi and pan were two separate and complete identities that were valid and had to be respected or youre a mean exclusionist. and an asexual person, hearing people labelled exclusionist always meant they were excluding people from the lgbta community who rightfully belonged, denying peoples lived experiences, and generally telling people theyre wrong about their sexuality because theyre too young. and all of those things were bad and had hurt me, so it would be ridiculous to change labels and support "pan exclusionists" because they were just as bad as ace and aro exclusionists, and they were all the same people. or so it seemed to me at that time.

then, 'hearts not parts' began getting called out for blatant transphobic by insinuating that pansexual was the only identity that loved people for their "hearts" and personalities instead of those gross gays, lesbians, bisexuals, and even straights who only saw people for their "parts". (STRAIGHT PEOPLE ARE NOT OPPRESSED. I AM MERELY POINTING OUT THAT PANSEXUALITY WAS SHOWN AS ABOVE ALL OTHERS.) many pan people, including myself, began to denounce the slogan and insist pansexuality wasnt transphobic, there had just been a coincidence that a transphobic slogan was everywhere and a huge part of people's explantions of and associations with pansexuality. hint: it wasnt a coincidence.

from my perspective, this is when i began to see people discussing dropping the word pansexual. that seemed to be a huge step from getting rid off a transphobic slogan, and these people were just meanies who hated microlabels. and i like microlabels! as a genderfluid person, and someone who has friends who use specific aro and acespec labels, ive seen how people can use them to name specific experiences while still acknowleging their presence underneath umbrella terms like aromantic, asexual, nonbinary, lgbta, and for some people, queer.

pansexuals dont do that. they dont label pansexuality as a specific set of experiences under the bisexual umbrella, they see themselves as a separate identity, and even if they started to, the history of biphobia and transphobic undeniably linked to the existence of pansexuality in enough to stop being worth using. but i digress. pansexualitys shiny new definition that many people cling to is that pansexual is attraction to all genders. bisexual is two or more genders.

which. frankly? doesnt make any sense. my guess is that its supposed to be inclusive of nonbinary genders and those a part of cultures who historically have not had a binary gender system in the first place. i cannot speak for the latter group, but as a nonbinary person, its not inclusive. anyone can be attracted to nonbinary people. literally anyone. theres no way to know if everyone you meet is nonbinary or not. whether or not a nonbinary person reciprocates those feelings and is interested in pursuing a relationship is completely up to the individual, regardless of the sexualities of the people involved.

bottom line is that you cant number the amounts of genders someone can be attracted to, thus rendering those definitions pointless. people can be attracted to all kinds of people regardless of gender, even if they are gay, a lesbian, or straight. all people can date thousands of nonbinary genders if all people involved are interested and comfortable with it. numbering the genders you can be attracted to diminishes the post of nonbinary, as it is not a third gender, it simply any experience not fitting within the western concept of the gender binary (if the person so chooses to identify as such. if you cant tell already, the nonbinary experience is varied between every single nonbinary person.) important to note also that no widely accepted bisexual text defines bisexual as attracted to exclusively two genders or even the "two or more genders". i know this is used a lot but please read the bisexual manifesto. its free online i promise.

some people also claim pansexuals experience "genderblind" attraction while bisexuals feel differently attracted to different genders. this is very nitpicky for whats supposed to be two unconnected idenities, but thats only part of the problem. this definition is also not in any widely accepted bisexual texts, and bisexuality has never excluded those who experience genderblind attraction. i am in fact a bi person who experiences genderblind attraction. this does not mean i am not bisexual. it simply means i experience bisexuality differently than other bisexuals, and thats wonderful! no broad communities like bisexuality are expected to all share the same experience. we are all so different and its amazing were able to come together under the bisexual flag.

last definition, or justification i should say, is that yes these definitions are redundant and theyre the same sexuality, but people prefer different labels and thats okay. i agree in principle. people can define themselves as many things like homosexuals or gays or lesbians or queers or even other reclaimed slurs, while still not labelling themselves under the most "common" or "accurate" labels.

but pansexuality isnt the same as bisexuality, which may sound silly but hear me out. it has been continually used as a way to further divide bisexuals, who are already subject to large amounts of lgbta discrimination. "pansexuality was started by trans people who were upset with transphobia within the bisexual community! it cant be transphobic OR biphobic!" except of course that it can and it is. to say that trans people cant be transphobic is absurd. transmedicalism is right there, but thats not what im getting at. all minorities can have internal and sometimes external biases against people who are the same minority as them.

pansexuality was started as a way to be trans inclusive at the expense of labelling bisexuality as transphobic when its not. transphobia is everywhere, and bisexuals are not exempt. instead of working on the transphobia within the community, the creators of pansexuality decided to remove themselves from it to create a better and less tainted word and community, and the fact that pansexuality is intended to replace bisexuality or leave it for the transphobes goes to show a few things. pansexuality and bisexuality are inherently linked because the pan label is in response to the bi label. due to its origins, it is inherently competing with bisexuality and it cant be "reclaimed" from its biphobic roots. pansexuality is not a whole, separate, and valid label. its a biphobic response to issues within the bisexual community.

to top off this post, heres something a full grown adult once said to me. in person. she was my roommate. "i feel like im pan because im attracted to trans people. trans women, trans men, i could definitely date them. but not nonbinary people because thats gross and weird." she saw pan as trans inclusive and defined herself that way as opposed to bi which is shitty!

also a little extra tidbit about my experiences identifying as pan. i saw myself as better than every bi person. all of them. even my trans and bi friends. whenever they brought up being bisexual i would think to myself "why dont you identify as pansexual? its better and shows people you support trans people." because i was made to believe bisexuality didnt and was therefore inferior. thats the mindset that emerged from my time in the pansexual community. i am so sorry to all of my bisexual friends even if they never noticed. i love you all and hope you have a great day. this also goes to any bisexuals or people who identify as bi in anyway, such as biromantic or simply bi. love you all.

ummm yeah heres some extra reading i found helpful and relevant. here and here. also noooo dont disagree with me and unfollow me im so sexy 🥴🥴🥴

#if u have follow up questions ill probably answer them 2morrow #if u ask something just be nice its my birthday 🙄🙄#anyways time to tag this lol !#pansexuality #biphobia #transphobia #q slur #long post #my post #ask to tag maybe??

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devnicolee · 4 years

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The Chosen Ones (7)

A/N: Enjoy! There is one chapter left, which I am really excited about :)

Warnings: Slow burn, verbal abuse (and one mention of physical abuse), angst

Word Count: 6,000 words

Pairings: M’Baku x OC

[1] [2] [3] [4] [5] [6]

Asha groaned as she felt something nudging her shoulder, assuming it was M'Baku's feeble attempts to wake her up. "Five more minutes," she mumbled, her voice groggy and tired. She shifted on her side, burying her face deeper into his chest, her hand sliding across his midsection to hold onto him tighter. There was no response to her exhausted pleas for more sleep. In fact, she quickly realized that all she could hear were his loud, deep snores. Yet she still felt another more forceful nudge hit her back, forcing her eyes to pop open.

Her eyes trailed up his torso and landed on M’Baku’s face, eyes closed as he continued to sleep. Her lips curved into a content smile as she just stared at him… her boyfriend. It amazed her how far the pair had come in mere weeks… from only existing in quiet, hidden moments to being able to love each other loudly and freely. She decided to lean on his advice, not to dwell on those broader implications, the details they would have to sort out back home. She knew he already gained her sister and brother’s approval, which was all she truly cared about. But the jury was still out on the Council and her mother. Asha already had two strikes against her where the majority of them were concerned.

It does not matter, she decided. She seceded 25 years to the will and opinion of the Council and her parents, she refused to cower or give them a day more. She worried about the other things and how to be in a successful relationship when she had no experience. But she and M'Baku loved each other and they both had the will and desire to be together. That meant they would climb any walls, weather whatever storm, and extinguish any fires this world threw at them. She finally had the person and love she prayed for every night; she would not let him go without a fight. Her thoughts were interrupted by something hitting her yet again. She frustratingly turned around to come face to face with the same black panther as last night. Inches away from her face, the panther used its nose to nudge her shoulder, a silent demand to start the day.

"Fuck!" she yelped, sitting up abruptly. She, of course, knew it meant her no harm but was also not expecting such a jarring wake up call. Her traveling companion, however, did not have this luxury. Her loud outburst immediately pushed M'Baku out of his restful sleep. Forever the warrior, he leaped out of the sleeping bag, robbing Asha of his warm body heat, and immediately raised his knobkerrie, ready to strike. He examined the cave terrain wildly, searching for an unknown threat.

"Stand down soldier," Asha chuckled as she ran her hands through the soft, thick black fur of the now resting panther, laying down relaxed after doing their job to wake the couple up. Her heart still thumped loudly against her chest as it tried to return to its resting rate. "It woke me up and I was n-not expecting a Bast wake-up call. Sorry for screaming," she offered before standing up herself.

"Damn panthers," M'Baku mumbled angrily under his breath. But he shook off his annoyance rather quickly as Asha cleared up their makeshift camp. "What time is it?"

Asha fiddled with her beads, immediately distracted by two texts from her brother and sister. "U-u-uh just after 7. But we better get going. Brother called an emergency council meeting 2 hours before the King's Exhibition. We need to find the herbs and get back to the palace before then." The balls of light keeping them warm the night prior bounced around as the two moved about, getting ready to finish the last leg of their journey. Asha raised her hands, each instinctively moving back toward their owner as her skin absorbed them.

"Why a council meeting?" M'Baku asked as he pulled bags of fruit out of his bag for both to munch on for breakfast and swung it back on his shoulders.

"Well, we do not need to convince the whole country... just the Mining and Border Tribes. No need to wait for the King's Exhibition if we can avoid it. It is supposed to be a fun and joyous event, believe it or not."

The two emerged from the cave, the Panther waiting for them on the small cliff. They fell in step behind it as it led them back to their original trail. The morning air was crisp and cold, the sun peeked through the swaying tree tops giving them a sliver of light. It still didn’t look like morning on their path though, the thick forest blocked out most of the sun. The mountain had a new layer of fresh, undisturbed snow, which did not remain long as their footprints smashed through it.

"What is the King's Exhibition anyway?" Despite not following the Panther Goddess, all of Wakanda was invited to partake in the celebrations of the week-long Festival of Bast. This was to be the Jabari's first year and he planned on participating to show solidarity. However, M’Baku quickly realized he had no idea what was involved.

"Oh, it is just a show of our King's strength and prowess in battle. Really just a chance for my oh-so-humble brother to show off. He basically fights the Dora, members of the King's Guard and then any challenger from across Wakanda. But unlike Challenge Day, no one is fighting to the death. It is more of a public training session. Everyone loses to him, of course," she added.

"What is the point of it?" he inquired, knocking some branches out of their path.

"It shows the strength Bast gives her protector. Her power and by extension, his power to protect all of us. It is quite fun to watch, or so I have heard," she added as a caveat. Snow drifted down lightly around them from the branches and leaves above them, immediately melting to water as it connected with her clothes.

"You have never been?"

She chuckled, managing to keep at least some of the bitterness out of her voice. "You would be surprised at the amount of things I have never seen or done. I have not celebrated a Festival of Bast in 15 years. Though, I didn't much care to celebrate her in those later years to be honest." M'Baku glanced over at her and noticed a flicker of shame and regret passing behind her dark brown eyes.

"Hey," he said gently, pulling on her arm to stop her. "You don't need to feel ashamed about that. You did the best you could. Bast forgives, clearly," he said, gesturing toward the panther that stopped a few feet ahead of them to wait.

Asha nodded softly, looking up at him to find concern in his big brown eyes… concern and intense love and adoration for her. Love and adoration that made her legs grow weak and the butterflies in her stomach flutter. She couldn’t explain it but it felt like the farther they went on this journey, the easier it became to open her heart and share her soul with this gentle giant beside her. She immediately thought back to what Bast told her, how the journey of loving and accepting herself would make loving others that much easier. Bast is rarely wrong.

"Thank you. I needed to hear that... be reminded of that. T-there is just so much I would have done differently had I known what I know now… you know?" she responded as they broke their eye contact and continued uphill. Asha, being someone who did not train incredibly often, was beginning to feel the strain of this journey as the air grew thinner and the path steeper. M'Baku seemed perfectly capable and fine with the hike but she was starting to grow that uncomfortable stitch in her side that she usually got when she trained with T'Challa.

"Yes, regrets are the price we pay for living. We all struggle with that… trust me. But it is not about how you lived before, but how you choose to live now. All those things you would do differently, you can do going forward. You have a bright future ahead, Asha. You have to just decide what you want to do with it."

Silence fell over the two; the only sounds were the soft crunch of snow beneath their boots, the random babble of animals moving through the trees around them as she contemplated his words. Asha went from having no real future at all to the one she always dreamed of. However, she now had to apply those dreams to her real life. She was no longer limited, chained in darkness with small fleeting glimpses of the sun. She was fully stepping in the light and she could finally bask in its warmth, serenity, and peace. Now that she was standing in the sun, she was not sure exactly what path she should forge. But she knew, a path without M'Baku was not a viable one. Where the light took her, she was determined to have him by her side loving and affirming her.

The inner light now flooding Asha's life was only eclipsed by the darkness the forest plunged them in as they trekked farther up the mountainside. It was as ominous as the night before, possibly even more so since they both knew the sun was shining above the thick treetops. The rustles and chatter of the forest seemed to get louder as they went, M'Baku constantly raising his weapon and shielding Asha as if a monster was seconds away from emerging from the trees. Each step seemed to dial up the creepy meter of the whole journey, putting the two on edge. They were not deterred; at the top of this summit laid their destiny, their reason for being. They had no choice but to press forward, stomping out any anxiety or fear that tried to poke through their armor of confidence.

"Do you like Jabariland?" M'Baku asked out of the blue.

Asha gave him a confused look from the corner of her eye, noting the way his hands fidgeted. Was he nervous? "It is gorgeous... the people were amazing. I felt more at home there... more at peace than I ever had in the Golden City. What is not to like?"

"Yes, but could you see you-" he started to say before he cut himself off, raising his hand to stop her. The panther leading their way had stopped, halting in front of a break in the trees. Asha walked to stand behind it and saw them.

"Glory to Hanuman," M'Baku whispered, amazed that a childish dream and a hunch led them to this. The only two people in the world who could make it to this promised land. The herbs sat in the middle of the clearing, covered in thick clear ice. But nothing could diminish the distinct and almost magical purple glow of the heart-shaped herb. The purple glow reflected across the white snow as the bright sun shined down on the field, filled with more herbs than either could have dreamed of.

"Bast... M'Baku, this is it. You were right!" Asha exclaimed, clutching his thick bicep. "W-we can save T’Challa, w-w-we can save the Black Panther." She hadn’t let herself get too attached to the idea that they were right, after all, it was a longshot. But here they were, staring their and Bast’s dreams in the face and it was glorious.

The moment her foot connected with the hard Earth in the clearing, it started. It was soft initially, like faint distant whispers as several quiet voices invaded her ears. She pushed forward, ignoring them. Nothing would stop her now. With each inch forward, the voices grew louder and more unruly. Asha had no idea what they were saying, what they wanted. She knew it was all in her head but she understood why such a phenomenon would drive people away from this place. It was almost impossible to ignore and it was terrifying. A piercing pain started to spread through her skull as she tried to continue. Soon the pain, the symphony became too loud to ignore.

"Ah!" she cried out as she fell to her knees, so close that a herb was within arm’s reach.

"Asha!” He had been watching from the tree with the panther and rushed forward when she hit the ground. He was at her side in record speed. He clutched her face, rotating her head in his hands as tears streamed from her eyes. He examined her head and body finding no obvious injury, realizing that the voices they were warned found their next victim.

She whimpered slightly from the pain, unable to speak as it became too much to handle. He felt his world crumbling at her pain and distress. He wondered if his hypothesis was wrong. Had he brought her all the way here, pumping her soul with false hope with every mile only to push her into a world of pain?

"Asha... It's gonna be ok... Go back and I will get the herb. It is ok, you have done more than enough," he whispered, offering more encouraging words as he helped her to her feet. The pain had yet to subside, she was not sure if she had experienced agony such as this before. But as she started to walk back toward safety, the black panther, a casual and quiet guide up until this point, brandished its teeth at her and growled deeply. Its body blocked the way back toward the trees, forcing her to stay there. As if a cue, more panthers emerged from the trees surrounding them, pacing so neither could retreat. M'Baku, deciding that the sooner they had an herb in hand, the sooner they would be allowed to leave, reached to pull one out of the Earth. However, he pulled and pulled but its roots were unmovable. The ice casing around the herb was too thick to break and remove the herb from its flower and the ground was too hard to rip the flower from the soil. He tried everything he had in his arsenal while whatever magical properties inhabiting this mountain brought his all-powerful partner to her knees.

Asha pushed through her pain and watched him struggle with the plant, a realization dawning on her. There was a reason it was the two of them and no one else. Further proof that their survival depended on each other, that their destinies were intertwined long before they knew of each other's existence. He got them here and now, she had to do her part.

"I-I h-have to melt th-th-the ice, M'Baku. W-we can’t t-take them frozen l-like… this. I c-can do it," she pushed out, her breathing labored as she tried to overcome the pain and channel her powers.

M'Baku immediately shook his head, "Asha... you were on death's door not even a full 48 hours ago, you are not strong enough to use your powers like this yet."

Asha shook her head, "I made it up this m-mountain. This is my purpose, I c-cannot.... I w-will not fail.” She crawled closer to the herb and sunk her warm hands into the thick snow around the herb closest to her.

“Bast, give me strength," she whispered to herself. She closed her eyes and channeled all the fire, the heat in her being down into her palms and fingers. She imagined the field in her mind and pictured projecting that heat outward like a blanket. Her labored breathing grew as she fueled all the power in her body into the ground beneath her. the heat from her internal flame slowly melting the clear ice protecting each herb.

Asha grew concerned, as she tried to melt all the herbs that she did not have enough energy for this task. She could feel her steam running out. Thankfully, the ice transitioned to water on the last herb just as her body grew cold, void of any flames. As soon as the last herb thawed, Asha's eyes fell closed slowly, her body slumping into the snow as her mind succumbed to the voices and tumbled into her past.

T'Challa and Asha circled each other on a deep blue training map, the 10-year-old pushing her exhaustion aside to train with her older brother. She and T'Challa went blow for blow for a few minutes, trading hits as they danced across the training floor. She had gotten surprisingly better since they started training together, improving far more in their secret limited sessions than her actual training. She was small and quick, which helped her keep up with him even though he was clearly more skilled and stronger.

A few minutes of skillful fighting and she found herself on her brother's back, arm around his neck holding him in a chokehold. "Yield!" she demanded playfully.

"Never," he retorted as he flipped her over his head and forced her to the ground. He did it as slow as possible, as to not actually hurt her. She rolled on her back for a few minutes, catching her breath before standing again and starting the process over.

Their second fight went similarly. However, Asha suddenly felt different. She felt like another energy source coursing through her veins. She figured it was merely a second wind to help her fight. It propelled her to fight harder than she usually did, forcing T'Challa to up his game. She and T'Challa circled each other before he lunged toward her again. She raised her hand to block his first attempt when he jumped back unexpectedly, dodging with grace toward the side. Bewilderment filled her eyes until she saw a line of fire separating the two siblings.

"A- Asha... what is going on?" he asked tentatively as he pushed himself to stand.

Asha looked down at her hands to find them covered in flames. "Oh my bast!" She dropped to the ground and tried to stomp them out by banging her hands on the floor, but they wouldn't die. Her hand felt fine, she did not feel the agony of being on fire and yet she was. "T'Challa... what is happening to me??" she cried, panic setting in as she stared at this peculiarity.

"I do not know. But stay calm, I will get baba. It will be alright Asha."

Asha sunk to the ground, tears streaming down her face as she watched her hands and, unbeknownst to her at the time, her future burn right before her eyes.

The training room dissolved, her father's office replacing it as Asha sat, hands back to normal, next to T'Challa as he tried to calm her down. He rubbed comforting circles into his young and extremely distraught sister's back as they waited for their father to speak. Her father paced by his desk, throwing agitated looks at his daughter every few minutes, making her feel as though she had done something wrong.

"She is one of them. A mutant," he spat out with disgust.

"So what do we do?" their mother asked quietly from the other side of the office, keeping a healthy distance from her now dangerous daughter. "You have campaigned against mutants in our borders for years. This will look like hypocrisy."

"We do nothing," T'Chaka hissed. "We do nothing, we say nothing. No one can know about this."

T'Challa stood, a look of disbelief painted on his face, "How do you expect to keep this a secret? She is a princess? It is not like you can just hide her away."

"No, that is exactly what we are going to do. She almost killed you, T'Challa! Her powers are uncontrollable. We will find a way to suppress them until she is old enough to control them. Until then, she will not leave the palace," her father decided resolutely. It was not lost on Asha how they all spoke about her as if she were a mere object and not a person sitting right in front of them.

She shared a scared look with her brother before the scene changed again. She was now sitting on her brother's bed as he prepared for his 18th birthday party. They had been laughing and joking around, until their father appeared in the doorway.

"Yes baba?" he asked.

"You look good, strong. Please finish quickly. It is not good to be late to a party in your honor." Asha wanted to shrink herself or have the floor dissolve her as her father's eyes scanned the room. In the last three years, she found the best way to survive in her home was to simply avoid her father at all cost. At least then, he could not verbally castigate her for merely existing.

"Asha!" he barked, "What are you doing?"

Asha hung her head, "I was just helping T'Challa get ready. I will go back to my room."

He nodded, "Good. We cannot have anyone seeing you wandering around during the party. Go now."

"Yes, baba." Asha climbed off T'Challa's bed and started to walk toward the door. "Happy Birthday, T." She gave him a tight hug and a wide smile, mainly for his benefit. She did not want him worrying about her on his big birthday and knew he was already concerned about leaving her without her only advocate when he went away for university. That smile carried her until she was out of the view of his door and down the hallway to her own room.

Her brother's room disappeared as an intense argument in the royal gardens formed, Asha face to face with Hasani.

“What is the issue? It is just a date outside this Bast forsaken palace?"

An adult Asha tried to let him down easy, gave all the excuses her father outlined for her and he refused to accept any of them. It was almost as if he wanted to catch her in a lie. "I cannot leave. I would feel more comfortable if we just stayed in."

"No! I want to go on a real date outside of this palace. Today!" he demanded rudely. Asha scoffed silently. She knew the courting dates were part of the royal deal, her dad's attempt to pawn her off on someone else. However, she did not need to put up with another verbally abusive man in her life, her father was more than enough.

"Perhaps we should just chat another day? You seem upset, Hasani and I do not wish to upset you further. You know your way out, yes?" she said politely, deciding to deescalate the situation before it grew out of control. She turned away from him slightly, preparing to walk out of the gardens.

"No!" A hand enclosed around her wrist and yanked her back. His grip was so tight that Asha knew a bruise would blossom on her wrist later.

"Hasani, you are hurting me! Let me go!" she whispered, trying to avoid a scene as she failed to tug her hand out of his grip. She looked around for a passing Dora, cursing herself for telling Alexis that she did not need to watch over her during this date. She could feel the Panther beating against its cage, determined for release as someone attacked its owner. Even with the rings donning each of her fingers, she knew the flames were growing to uncontrollable levels. "Hasani, I do not want to hurt you, please let me go!" she begged, knowing that this was not headed in any good direction.

He scoffed, "What could you do to hurt me?"

As if on cue, sparks flew out of her hands, one hitting him right on his wrist causing him to jump back several feet. Fire shot out of her extended hand, drawing a line between them to protect her.

"W-w-what the fuck? I-I knew you weren't sick!" he cried, outraged.

Asha's hands clamped over her mouth in shock as she tried to approach him and make this right. "Hasani, please! I-it is not what it looks like!" But it was too late, he was off, Asha knew, to tell his mother who was meeting with her father in his office. She took off running after him, knowing that whatever happened next... she would certainly pay for this.

She was back in her father's office, Asha arguing with her father who refused to listen. "But I do not love him, baba! And he doesn’t love me! H-he hates me! H-he treats me horribly. You cannot expect me to marry him!"

"I don't particularly care if you love him or not. Sometimes arranged marriages are a necessary part of being royalty. You were the fool that showed your… disease to him. These are the consequences."

Asha threw up her hands, anger causing tears to stream down her face as she defended herself for the 100th time for the incident that thrusted her into this mess. She shared an exasperated glance at her brother and sister, the only two people who were ever on her side. "It was an accident, baba! I swear."

She knew she messed up, she regretted it everyday but she didn’t deserve this. She especially didn’t deserve the bloodied cut and bruise on her face, the reason her brother dragged her to her father’s office to demand the engagement be called off. It took Asha, Okoye and three other Dora to pull T’Challa off Hasani after he happened to walk in on an argument between the couple right as the back of Hasani’s hand connected with Asha’s cheek. It was the first time he had ever done such a thing and Asha knew it would be last since her brother made it clear he would not live to tell the tale if he touched her like that again.

"Sometimes I think you are determined to destroy this family and everything I built," he said as he settled behind his desk. "It is like you do not care if this family survives."

If he had slapped her in the face, that would have been less painful. "How could you say that?" she whispered, the hurt clear in her words.

"Baba! Please!" T'Challa said, no longer a young boy now but a grown man who refused to let anyone, even his beloved baba, attack his sister. He pushed Asha behind him as if he could act as a physical barrier between her and their father's verbal abuse. He, of course, knew it was too little too late to protect her from him but he tried to mitigate where he could. "Asha is not trying to destroy us by refusing to marry an abusive man. You did not hear the way he spoke to her. Why would you want her to marry a man who cares so little for her? Who is blackmailing our family into it? He has already proven that he has no self-control or respect for her. If you think those bruises were a one-time incident, you are mistaken. These lies have gone far enough, it cannot be worth it anymore."

"Enough!" King T'Chaka yelled, silencing his disobedient and reckless children. "T'Challa, you will stay out of it. You will be king one day but that is not today. And Asha, you will marry Hasani. You are lucky I was able to find this man for you. He is of royal blood, far better than you could have hoped for. Now, T'Challa and I will be leaving for Sokovia in a week's time. I suggest you take that time to accept this. I will not have this conversation with you again."

Asha nodded softly, her "Yes baba" so despondent and quiet that it broke T'Challa's heart. She shrugged off his comforting hand from her shoulder and raced out of the room. Asha rarely left her dad's office without tears clouding her vision, today was no different.

Asha woke among the dirt and swaying grass of the Ancestral Plane. Her second visit was far less confusing, almost as if she expected it. Bast did say she would see her again so she supposed this was that time. And this time, she knew she was not actually dead, which offered a small comfort.

She stood up and dusted the dirt off the long white dress with gold trim now hanging over her shoulders. Her bare feet sunk into the soft dirt as she walked toward a tree overflowing with black panthers. She did not need prompting, did not need Bast to lead her way. The path, the course forward, who she needed to speak to was as clear as day. She did not get very close before one jumped down from a high branch and landed in front of her.

Baba, she thought to herself. Sure enough, she watched as the panther quickly turned into a man... her father.

The two simply stood there, feet apart and stared at each other. He looked smaller than he did in life. He was never a big person, but his presence made up for what he lacked in stature... strong and intimidating. She never got to see the gentle King everyone else adored and worshiped. She had always only gotten the worst of him. She could not deny the small part of her that was filled with the urge to rush forward and hug him, the part that was still desperate for his approval and his love. But the larger part forced her feet to stay planted like a tree firmly in the same spot. She expected there to be more resentment toward him. What once was a burning inferno seemed more like a small contained fire, still present and noticeable but not all consuming.

"Why are you here... again?" he asked.

"That seems to be a question for Bast, not me... I found a new garden of the Heart-Shaped Herb and when I thawed it, I passed out. And I guess she brought me here."

"You found a new garden?" He did not even try to hide the surprise in his voice.

Asha scoffed, bowing her head slightly, turning away from him to study the horizon and the pale yellow and orange sky. "Always a tone of surprise. Apparently, Bast doesn't hate me or my kind as much as you did."

"I never hated you Asha."

"Really? You could have fooled me. 15 years... 15 years, you treated me like a prisoner, like I was nothing to you. If you did not hate me, you certainly didn't love me. It does not benefit either of us to pretend otherwise," she added coldly. If she was going to speak to him, it would be rooted in honesty, not historical fiction to sugar coat his actions simply because he died.

"I did not know how to deal with a child who was more powerful than I. Bast told me you were destined for great things and I refused to believe it. I was so obsessed with the mantle of King that I lost sight of... well, everything. I have had much time to think since being here."

"Yes, I would imagine death gives you all the time in the world to contemplate your failings," Asha responded, that small fire of resentment showing in her words, regardless of how she tried to contain it. The beautiful and serene terrain of the Planes did nothing to counter the frustration bubbling beneath the surface. She did not know what she expected from a conversation with her father but this was lacking. But she wondered if every conversation would; after all he could not come back from the dead and redo her childhood. His damage was set in stone and no words would fix it.

"What will you do now?"

"I will take the herb down the mountain and save your golden son and your tribe from being uprooted. That is all T'Challa and I seem to do lately, save our country from your failures. I will save your country, as Bast destined it. And then, I will find my place in that country, the place you selfishly denied me for decades," Asha responded.

T'Chaka nodded sadly, "Can you forgive me? I was not perfect in life. I made so many mistakes that forced you and T'Challa down paths that almost led to Wakanda's destruction. If I could go back, if I could have a chance at life anew, I would do so much differently. I did not hate you, I hated your powers and what they represented. But for you, I am sure that distinction means little. I failed you as a father... I failed you as your King and unfortunately, my realizations came too late. I can't fix it; I can't make it up to you. But I can apologize… and I am so sorry. Truly."

Asha did not hate her father, that was true. She did not know if she loved him either. But she had finally lost almost all the anchors of her past life, this was the final one. No amount of harbored resentment would fix his mistakes. Hating him until the end of her days, refusing to forgive until she was in a tree in the Planes next to him would not give her the life and childhood she desperately had wanted and deserved. She knew she needed to learn how to move on, to stop being weighed down by the past. She did not need to love her father to forgive him. She could not carry this pain, this resentment into her new life. She deserved to be light, not weighed down by someone else's failures and insecurities.

"A king who admits his faults? Quite the rarity." She refused to look at him, still studying the horizon, "You know I used to pray to Bast to take my powers, take my life, take everything so that you could love me. So that you could look at me as you looked at T'Challa and Shuri, with love, adoration, and hope. I wanted that so bad for so long that it almost killed me. Everyday felt like a festering wound that just would not heal. Your ego allowed me to wake up every day without hope, without light. Y-you caused that and, to be honest, I never thought I could forgive you for it. For planting seeds of hatred so deep in my heart that I started to believe them to be my own thoughts, my own insecurities."

She turned to face him finally, "But I cannot live that way anymore. I have finally started to uproot those weeds and my soul is so light," Asha sighed as tears sprung to her eyes, "that sometimes it feels as though I could fly away. I will never again be weighed down by the hatred you sowed nor the hatred your actions sowed in me for you. I will never feel for you as your other children do, but I do not need to hate you. I appreciate your apology and I forgive you."

"Thank you. I wish I could be there... to see the new garden," he whispered. "I wish I could be there to right so many wrongs."

"You are right where you need to be, T'Chaka," an angelic voice interrupted. They both turned to find Bast behind them. T'Chaka bowed slightly, stepping aside so the Goddess could approach. Asha stood tall as Bast stood directly in front of her, her face beaming with pride and joy.

"So, you solved my riddle?" Bast asked.

"Yes, but you couldn't have made it easier?"

"Well... There is just no fun in that. I am so proud of you, Asha. You fulfilled your destiny and Wakanda's future, that was once destroyed, is now like that garden: overflowing and teeming with life and hope. That is because of you and Lord M'Baku. Now I have a few final requests of you before you return to your life, if you do not mind?"

Asha raised her eyebrow, knowing the only acceptable answer was yes. She just nodded and waited for Bast to proceed.

"One, keep the Garden where it is. There will be a desire to move them to the Hall of Kings. But that mountain will serve as the bridge that connects the Jabari to Wakanda and the Black Panther. It must stay where it is to thrive. Two, you are learning about your powers, finally understanding and controlling them. Do not let another living soul limit them again. Three, love is overflowing in your life. It has not always felt like it, I know, but I hope you feel it now. Do not lose sight of the love you have, the family you have, as you settle into the mountains with your new one. There is space for it all."

Asha wrinkled her nose, laughing lightly. "Family in the mountains? M'Baku and I certainly are not there yet. Besides, I still need to find my place here."

"Of course... your place in Wakanda just may have a bit colder climate than you think, Asha Udaka," Bast mused. "It is time to go now. I expect I will not be seeing you again until your life has run its course, but worry not. You have a long and vibrant life ahead surrounded by those you love and who love you immeasurably."

Bast wrapped Asha into a hug so loving, so tender that only a Goddess could conjure such a thing. So much waited for her on the other side, and for the first time, she could not wait to get back to them.

***

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