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biblicallyaccuratebeskar · 1 year

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Chapter 14/22: ~1.5K words

Star-touched

When I became aware of my surroundings, I shot up from my position and immediately slammed my forehead into a low ceiling.

“OW, fucking Maker, what the hell?”

Looking around, now fully conscious (against my will), I realized I was inside a small dwelling, Kuiil’s hut, and I was alone. I froze.

“Din?” I whispered. No response.

“Mando?” I called out louder.

There was a commotion outside. He suddenly appeared in the doorway, nearly diving at me when he saw I was awake.

“You ok?” I asked him as he crouched down next to me.

“Are you?”

The memory of the creature flooded back to me. Oh Maker, what have I done.

I didn’t know how to answer that and instead turned my attention to Kuiil, who was walking in the door.

“Your ship is nearly ready to fly,” he said, pulling up a chair next to us, “and I hear that the desert dragons are flying now, too. That was your doing?”

Din’s gaze was like fire on my skin, intense and all-encompassing. “...yes.” I whispered, voice cracking. I couldn’t even look at him.

“I have heard stories like this. Of your kind.”

“My kind?”

“Yes,” Kuiil said, nodding gravely. “Jedi.”

My mouth dried. No.

“I’m not Jedi.”

I couldn’t be.

——

I wanted to be a Jedi, once.

When I was very young, after my parents went to sleep, I would jump around my room like a maniac, waving around my invisible lightsaber, tucking and rolling, dodging enemy attacks.

The Jedi were heroes in my mind and in the books. Stories of their feats were my favorite to read (even though those were the ones my parents hesitated letting me read the most).

They were just storybook characters to me back then. I wanted to be a hero like them. Fight like them.

That’s when I began teaching myself tactics, putting those long nights of make believe battles to use. My parents never knew that I got pretty good.

When I learned how the Jedi were extinct, how they weren’t all heroes, I reevaluated. Their leadership transitioned too quickly into the Empire for it to be a coincidence. My parents were too quiet about them for it to have been fair.

I gave up on my delusions, but I trained harder, practicing until my body ached to ignore the buzzing in my fingers whenever I thought of their magic.

The Jedi went sour, dying and leaving the Galaxy under a monstrous tyranny. They left me alone to fend for myself, any answers for the question of who I was turned to ash. No storybook heroes.

I wasn’t Jedi.

——

“We can’t stay here for much longer,” I said standing, swaying a bit. “Let me look at the ship, then we should go.”

“I think the Mandalorian can do that,” Kuiil said rising from his tiny chair. “He seems handy enough with a set of tools. You will stay here. I wish to speak to you before you depart.”

Din looked hesitant, but he obliged, giving me one last look before he’d ducked out of the hut.

“For many years of my life I worked for the Empire. I paid off the debts they created and built the life I have now with my own hands, on my own accord,” Kuiil began, looking directly into my eyes. “You and I are both products of powers that believed in themselves too much. The Empire. The Jedi. Even the Rebellion. But we remain while they do not, at least not in their original forms. We were both given the opportunity to use the things we’ve been given to live for ourselves. So, make a life. Running from oneself is a fruitless journey.”

I swallowed the lump in my throat.

“I’m scared,” I said softly.

Kuiil smiled. “Do it anyway.”

——

The Crest had seen better days, but she would fly. I waved to Kuiil as we lifted off, setting course for the nearest densely inhabited system to reload supplies.

Later in the hull, I sat on my bed, huddled up in my blanket like a child as we passed through hyperspace.

The picture of me on that disk was from security footage. Where would we have been that would have had cameras?

I ran though all our recent jobs in my mind, and then I realized. The intel mission. The facility.

The stormtroopers.

I felt nauseous. There was a camera in the control room, there had to be. It saw those troopers fly away from me.

The Empire remnants thought I was Jedi and now they were after me.

“Larkin?”

I jumped. How long had Din been standing there?

“I think I know why I have the bounty on me,” I said.

“It’s because of your...magic powers?”

“They think I’m a Jedi. And I’m not.”

He came over and cautiously sat next to me.

“Kare’tigaanyc.” he spoke.

The phrase tumbled out his mouth, foreign and beautiful. I was taken by surprise. I’d heard him speak various languages on jobs, always amazed at his eloquence and vast knowledge, but I could tell this one was new.

“What is that?” I asked.

“It’s Mando’a. It means star-touched. When I was a boy, they would tell us stories of beings with these powers that could move things with their minds.”

“And you’re saying that’s what I am?”

“Unless you tell me different.”

I looked down at my hands, feeling like a ticking time bomb. Taking a deep breath, I said, “I think I’ve always been this way. Always been...star-touched. But now it’s like it’s waking up. And I can’t stop it.”

My voice wobbled and I finally brought myself to look him in the face.

“Are you scared of me?”

He squared his shoulders with mine.

“Never.”

A warm feeling of relief spread in my chest.

I smiled a bit. “Not even when we’re sparring?”

“No, especially not then.”

I laughed, wiping my eyes. “Oh, come on.”

Our legs were touching and neither of us were pulling away.

“What scares me is knowing you’ve been keeping this to yourself.” I sobered.

“I know. I was just...” My words died on my tongue.

“Figuring it out?”

“Yeah.”

We sat there. I could feel his body heat.

Nudging his leg with mine, I asked, “So, Mando’a?”

“It’s the Mandalorian language,” he responded. “I’ve learned some. There’s not much use in it anymore.”

“What other words do you know?”

He fell quiet, thinking. I swear you could almost hear this man think.

“Cyar’ika,” he finally said.

“What does it mean?”

“Womp rat.”

I snorted. “Nice.”

Before I lost the courage to, I hugged him, hard. It was uncomfortable as hell with all the metal, but I stuck my head in between his helmet and pauldron and it felt right.

He stiffened and I nearly jumped off, but then it’s like he melted, pulling me in to where I almost couldn’t breathe against his chest plate.

“What are we going to do now?” I whispered into his neck.

“Stay together. You and me.”

“You and me,” I repeated.

——

General Gerena Virs stands on the bridge of the Imperial light cruiser the Resolution, observing the stars. Her uniform is crisp and pristine, flaming red hair tied into a neat bun.

“General Virs?”

A voice interrupts her thoughts and she slowly turns, barely banishing the annoyance from her expression.

She sees a young lieutenant in front of her. What was her name? Hala? Hila? Never the matter.

“I’m listening?”

“I have updates on people of interest. Four level ones and our level five.”

“Never mind the children. What of the level five? Vega.”

Larkin Vega. An unexpectedly massive thorn in her side. She’d expected the stunt with the bounty hunters to go off without a hitch, but now that the girl was on the run, she looked like the fool, the one trying to keep up.

“Well,” the lieutenant began, hands fiddling. “We do not have her yet. But, the tracker on their ship was successful. There is nowhere they can go where we don’t know their whereabouts.”

“You do not have Vega yet?”

“Uh, no sir.”

Virs takes a step forward, using her tall stature to her advantage as she looks down on her shivering inferior.

“Do you know, exactly, what we do here lieutenant?”

“Yes sir. This is the Sensitive Individuals Collection Unit. We track down and either capture or terminate Force sensitive individuals who pose a threat to the New Order,” she gulped. “Sir.”

“Then you must understand the gravity of having a level five, very likely a Jedi, running amok in our galaxy?”

“Yes...sir.”

“Then why do you stand here, blubbering to me? Find! Vega!”

“Yes sir!”

Virs once again faces the window, hearing the lieutenant scramble away. Vega was out there among the stars somewhere. And she would be found.

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ink-on-the-brink · 3 years

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Out of all the mercs, which do you think would be the easiest to befriend and gain all their trust and which one would be the hardest??? And also, I really love your writing :D keep it up and have a nice day/night!!! ^^

Happy to know you enjoy my work! It's good to know I'm doing something right!

This one's going to be super quick since I've been a bit busy recently, but it should be fun. It will go in order from easiest to hardest to befriend. (Also there won't be any editing so excuse my spelling mistakes)

Pyro

You so much as smile at them and they are your best friend. Not kidding. They can and will make you a best friend after only the first time meeting you.

All you have to do to gain their trust is be kind. They won't notice if it's fake or not so even a sarcastic or strained tone won't matter as long as you're smiling and saying nice things.

Pyro is super bubbily and energetic and if you meet that energy you two are going to get along tremendously well.

You may not understand them, but they are telling you their deepest secrets all the time. Their trust in you is very noticable even after only a week of meeting them.

They are a bit- well more like extremely childish. So being their friend automatically makes you more of the adult no matter how immature you might be.

Overall they just want to be friends with any and every person they meet and you are going to be their bestest friend no matter if you want to be or not.

Scout

This man is a pretty easy friend to make. You make even a half attempt and he's your best friend on day one.

Trust is earned when you play fair. He doesn't really like cheaters, so if he challenges you and you make it a point to be as fair as possible he already believes you're a good person.

I hope you like some friendly competition because that's basically your guys' friendship is based on.

Now while you two might become great friends quickly, that doesn't necessarily mean you're going to know his deepest insecurities. That will problably take about a half a year and a loy of awkward conversations to get to.

He can be a very annoying person so being his friend takes a considerable amount of patience.

Overall he just likes having friends, even if he tries to stay macho about it.

Demo

Being his friend is pretty easy as well. He always likes to have a few drinking buddys on hand and he won't hesitate to invite along people he might not know very well

He'll gain immideate trust for you if you help him while he's drunk. Most people will leave him in a corner to wake up in so he'll take your act of kindness as a reason to keep you around.

Most of your friendship is based on achohal. Drinking together, gifting booze, encouraging others to join, you two will most likely not even remember most of your more trusting moments with eachother.

As bombastic and outgoing as he is, he's rather private about certain topics. That is unless he's black out drunk. If he's not as drunk as he usually is he won't answer questions about family or anything about the future until he feels he knows you well enough.

Demo is a bit of a handfull most days. He never turns down a dare and bar fights are common. You'll likely have to pull him off the floor a lot and he is notorious for invading personal space. So as long as your up for the challenge, he's up for being your friend.

Overall he's a drunk idiot, but he's your drunk idiot. He will be sure to make each day a little interesting

Medic

Becoming Medics friend can be...an interesting expirence. It's going to involve blood, guts and conscious surgeries and he's not going to care for those who are faint of heart.

You want to gain his trust? Well here's the thing, there is no surefire way to do that. Help him out one day and he'll appreciate it, another and he might become suspicious. The best way is probably to find some interest in his expirements. He prefurs to surround himself with like-minded people.

The biggest part of your friendship is most likely a shared interest in crimes against humanity. Two mad scientists testing on the bodies of dead 'patients'. What could go wrong?

Medic tries to hold a professional tone most of the time but will drop all of that when in battle or when expirementing. It can be hard to keep up with how quickly he switches from one to the other so try to stay aware of what's happening.

Medic doesn't have secrets. He has no shame and will tell you the most horrifying things in an upbeat tone. That, however, doesn't mean he fully trusts you. It will likely take a while before he trusts you enough to leave you alone with any of his expirements or projects. It's his life's work after all, he's not going to allow just anyone to mess with it.

Overall he doesn't mind having friends, but he isn't very open to close friends. It'll take a bit of time and prying to get him to fully trust you.

Soldier

This dude is extreamly parinoid. He's consistently second guessing his friendships and looking for double agents. So becoming his friend isn't exactly easy. You are going to have to seriously impress him for him to even think of you as anything more than a possibly traitor.

Gaining his trust can vary on many factors. Military backround? You're already up a few hundred points. Love for america? He's open to listening to you. Care for raccons? Okay maybe he isn't as hard to befriend as he tries to be.

Violence. So. Much. Violence. If he thinks you might be a good friend he's going to put you to the test. Rigorous training, sparing, tests on your patriotism, anything that he deems as important will be something he tests you on. All of them will most likely involve some sort of physical endurance. Even after you two are friend these will still be a constant in your life.

He's not good with secrets but there are a few things he keeps silent about and getting him to talk about it will likely end with you on the floor. As stated before he's a rather parinoid person and if it's something he's not willing to say out loud, it's something that you're going to have to spend years gaining enough trust for him to open up about it.

Soldier is extreamly loyal. If you're his friend he'd happily bleed to keep you safe. He'd never believe a single negative thing said about you and will side with you one everything, no matter how wrong you are. If you remain just as loyal he will become your right hand man in an instant.

Sniper

Overall Soldier's a loud, obnoxious, patriotic and still somehow very lovable person. When he cares about someone he tends to be extremely kind, be it in a more abrasive way then others. So as long as you can see past his militaristic exterior he's one hell of a friend to have.

You wanna be friends with Sniper? Yeah, good luck with that. Not only is the dude a loner, but he has hella trust issues and he sure as hell isn't here to make friends. Becoming his friend is going to take time. A lot of time. And maybe some coffee.

There isn't a singular act you could do to gain his trust. You can defend him all you want, side with him on every issue, pull him out of a near death expirence, its not going to change how little he trusts you. It's going to take all of those and a few long coversations (good luck getting him in a conversation in the first place) before he even attempts to trust you.

Your friendship relies heavily on practically. He's only going to think of trusting you if he feels you give some advantage. It will take a few heart to hearts for him to look past seeing you as someone who can help him and instead as someone he cares about.

Sniper has a lot of dark parts to him and it is only once he fully trusts you that you'll get to know that side of him exists. Secretly he really just wants to spill about his insecurities and problems but he doesn't trust that people won't use it against him. Once he does trust you his cold exterior will fade away and you'll get to know a lot about the demons he fights with.

He pulls off the calculated killer rather well. Most people believe he knows of nothing else. To anyone who's close to him however, he's quite honestly a mess. He needs someone that grounds him and if you can provide that type of friendship then he will appreciate it more that any type of heroic act you could preform.

Overall he's guarded and quiet but desperately wants someone to relate to. It will take a persistent attempt to earn his trust and even if he's your friend he still tends to keep to himself.

Heavy

Ah yes, the silent behemoth. Befriending him is going to take more than just patience. It's going to take a certain amount of willpower as well. He doesn't trust easily and you'll have to work hard to prove yourself to him, most likely on the battle field.

His trust is gained a few ways, none of which are easier than the last. First you must have some care for family. That doesn't necisarry mean that you have a family, but one of the first things he looks for in a possible friend is whether they have any strong familial values. Next you will have to prove to be strong enough to fend for yourself. He might be a human meat sheild but that doesn't mean he likes being one. He appreicates someone who can help rather than hinder him. There are many more steps afterward and you will have to pass with flying colors for him to consider it.

Your friendship will rely entirely on having eachothers back. He needs to know you are willing to stick with him no matter how dire the circumstances. You fuck up or betray him once and he will most likely never trust you again.

Heavy doesn't talk much. Whether that is because of his lack of english knowledge or simply choosing to keep his mouth shut really depends.

He doesn't hold many secrets but he does hold many dark memeories. He usually would only trust his family enough to talk to them about it but once your close enough to be considered family he will open up to you, if only a little bit.

Heavy keeps to himself most of the time and doesn't prefur to say much, if anything at all so getting to know his isn't easy and gaining his trust is even harder. He's got a family to take care of and he's not going to risk their safety by trusting someone he shouldn't have.

Spy

Ah yes, the backstabber himself. Guarded, mysterious and an annoying bastard. The path to his friendship is fog covered and honestly it can be hard to tell whether he cares for you or not. He will never announce his care or show it in any way, so good luck finding out if you're on his good side.

You want his trust? You'll have to prove you're worth trusting. Getting him out of a tough spot or siding with him is likely to earn his respect at the very least. It won't get you all the way there though. He doesn't associate with anyone that doesn't hold his type of class. You'll have to be rather poised and polished when around him.

His friendships usually end up in a love/hate dynamic. He might enjoy your company, and in doing so open a weak point for others to exploit. That's where the hate comes in. He doesn't like having people close, it makes his job harder, so no matter how much he cares he sure as hell isn't going to let it show.

Spy will never, ever, trust anyone with the knowledge of his past. He'd sooner die then let someone know anything that happened before he met them. No matter how much he trusts you, no matter how close you get, you will never have enough trust for him to tell you that.

Spy his one hell of a prick. It might all be in good fun, but he can be a little too good at getting on your nerves sometimes. It's best if you keep him in check by returning his remarks with equally devistating comebacks. He might even respect you more if you're able to match his level of prickery.

Overall he's going to remain mysterious no matter how much he may trust you. He will try to not befriend anyone, so you making an attempt to do so will likely be met with less than favorable reactions at first. Give it time and he might just consider you not as annoying as everyone else.

Engie

You thought he was a trusting guy didn't you? Well that's just what he wants you to think. Becoming his friend is a complicated process that you most likely wont even be aware of. You'll think he's your friend when really he's the farthest thing from it.

Gaining his true trust is near impossible. He has nearly everyone convinced of his friendly exterior so he almost can't afford to trust anyone to know the truth. In every case that it is possible it's entirely on accident. Maybe you seem to genuinely care for him and the guilt leaves him a bit more open to caring about you. Or the opposite can happen. You see right through his act and in a bid to keep you silent about it he becomes honest with you. Either way it's not going to be on purpose.

Engie grew up in a life where you weren't supposed to trust everyone but you damn well make sure everyone trusts you. This can make it hard for him to be an actual friend, considering he's always kept people at a distance. He will often fall into habits of keeping his friendly exterior instead of being more genuine with you.

Engie has a lot of secrets. A lot. Most he will take to his grave. If you do, however, manage to earn his trust and especially if you earn his care, he'll share a few. There are very few circumstances that he will and most time while doing so he can be very visibly uncomfortable. You don't get raised in a mercinary family without a few demons following you.

He's only cared for very few people in his life and he's trusted even less. So there are times when he either seem distant and uncaring or caring to the point you feel patronized. It will take him a while to find out if he should trust you and the moment he does it can seem almost like you have become the most important person on his life. His once empty gestures are now entirely genuine and he feels safe with his back toward you. This is by no means an easy point to reach and will most defiantly have taken literal years to get to.

Overall he's used to not genuinely connecting with people and is extremely hesitant when doing so. You may not even notice this conflict, but it's most certainly a large part of his life.

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drwcn · 3 years

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《 Without Envy 》 storyboard 9 - concubine/sleeper agent!wwx & prince!lwj [Master List], you should also have read [6] [6.2]

Lan Qiren coming to visit Hanguang-fu effectively put an end to Wei Wuxian's time as Lan Wangji's servant. He wanted to send Wei Wuxian back to Jiang-fu, but luckily, Jiang Yanli interfered.

Jiang Yanli has been slowly recovering since her drug-induced miscarriage, and while Wei Wuxian had slowed her progress with sedatives, he's been careful to keep an eye on her intake to make sure Jin Ziyan hasn't been messing with her again. As well, with Wei Wuxian occupying Lan Wangji's time and keeping the Jiang family in his good graces, Jiang Yanli had the time she needed to recover fully without needing to push herself to entertain Lan Wangji for favour.

“妾身见过太师，给太师请安。” “阿离啊，听说你小产后一直身体不好，这下着雨，你怎么来了。起身吧, 孩子。” “承蒙太师与陛下惦记，殿下垂怜，阿离的身子已经大好了。阿羡本是妾身院里的，是妾身的陪嫁，一直都安分守己，对王府对殿下忠心不二。是妾身无用，身子一直不见好才让阿羡到王爷身边侍奉。刚见阿羡被太师训斥，相比是阿离平日里管教无方，无心顶撞了太师。有什么过错，都是妾身的错，还请太师责罚。” ~translate~ Jiang Yanli dipped into a proper curtsey, kneeling before Lan Qiren, "This humble concubine greets Taishi. I pray that you've been well." "A-Li, I've heard that you've not been well since your miscarriage. It's raining today, what troubled you to come? Rise, child." Lan Qiren's stance softened upon seeing Jiang Yanli. His late sister-in-law had no daughters, and so often summoned the daughters of nobles into court to dote on and mentor as her own. Jiang Yanli, gentle and proper, has long been known to be a favorite of the late empress. She may not be the greatest beauty in her generation, but was second to none when it came to etiquette and grace. "Thanks be to His Majesty and taishi for remembering, and thanks to dianxia's for his care, my health is much improved now. A-Xian was once a member of my court, my peijia. I've always known him to be obedient and conscious of his place, and loyal to wangye and this princely manor. It is only on account of my poor health that he's been summoned to serve at wangye's side. Earlier, I heard Taishi chastising him; surely it must be A-Li's fault for failing to teaching him propriety and thus causing his unintended offence. The fault is with A-Li, and so I humbly submit myself to your discipline, taishi." Lan Qiren sighed. He did not wish to stir up trouble over a servant. If Jiang Yanli was willing to stand up for this Wei Wuxian, then he must have his uses. At the very least, he'll be a confidant for Jiang Yanli against Jin Ziyan. Lan Qiren so hoped that one day Wangji would choose the Jiang girl as his legal spouse and secure his marriage once and for all. If sparing one lowly servant was the price then so be it. "Very well, A-Li. Since the servant is yours, then his training and discipline shall be your responsible. He is unsuited to serve at the prince's side. It is good that you have recovered; Wangji should not be without a caring partner."

And so, Wei Wuxian returned to Jiang Yanli's side as a servant. Lan Wangji had to watch him go and could not interfere. The next several days was depressing for both of them on multiple fronts.

Xue Yang was very unimpressed:

"So you're tell me that you got to spend quality time with Lan Wangji for months and then... didn't get anywhere?" "I was getting there okay? How was I supposed to know his stupid uncle was gonna barge in like some nosey busybody and ruin everything!? I haven't seen Lan Zhan in days..." I miss him. How horrifyingly embarrassing. He probably forgot me already. "Don't tell me you actually miss him??? That you - barf - fell for him? Whatever happened to standards??!" "You watch your mouth, Xue Chengmei! I'm still your shixiong! And I have standards; Lan Zhan is...very good." Xue Yang: ( ˘︹˘ ) whatever.

Lan Wangji, the sulky boy that he is, brooded for days until Lan Xichen finally sought him out for some good ol' brotherly heart to heart.

"I hear Uncle took away your shiny new toy." "Wei Ying is not a toy." "Wei Ying is it?" Lan Xichen wiggled his eyebrows. "Ah, didi, you have to think a little more creatively. So your Wei Ying has gone back to his mistress, but is his mistress not your concubine? Jiang-furen is still unpregnant, I might add. Visit her. Then surely you'll get to see him." Lan Wangji grimaced. The thought has occurred to him, but the idea of bedding anyone not Wei Ying is intolerable. "Yes, Yanli is lovely, but I'd rather not...you know..." His brother was too polite to roll his eyes. "You've done it before, Wangji." "I would not have had to, if xiongzhang simply did his duty." Lan Wangji bit back icily, and instantly regretted it. Lan Xichen's eyes widened, his cheerful-teasing expression stuttering and crumbling in seconds. "Yes...yes that's true." "My sincerest apologies, huangxiong - no - bixia." Lan Wangji rose to his feet and then bowed down deeply. "I forgot my place. I accept any punishment." Lan Xichen sighed and extended a forgiving hand to pardon him. "Not necessary, Wangji. You're right. I haven't done my duty for Gusu." He pulled the younger man to sit beside him again. "You are doing this in my stead, stepping up where I have let the country down. I should not make light of your sacrifice. The matter of a harem is inevitably complicated, which is why I never cared for one. Neither did Father. His harem had always been sparse, and his first empress was not one of his choosing. When she died in childbirth and our unborn sibling along with her, he elevated our mother's rank to Empress and visited no one else henceforth." "Mother was never popular with the ministers for that reason." "Yes. They suspected that she had something to do with...well, in any case I imagine they were quite relieved when she passed." Lan Xichen shook his head. "The harem is not a happy place, Wangji. You were born after Mother was already Empress, you would not have remembered a time when she was consort. But I do. Like you, your concubines did not get to choose their fate. The fault, ultimately, lies with me." "Huangxiong -" "It's true, Wangji. The fault is mine." Lan Xichen patted him on the arm placatingly. "You cannot love them, and clever as they are, I don't think your concubines would expect you to. However, you can ensure their happiness in other ways. Jiang-furen seems the kind to very much want a child of her own. It will make the rest of her life in your harem more bearable."

After some deliberation, Lan Wangji went back to his routine of visiting different concubines regularly, but never more than just sharing a bed-space. With the exception of Jiang Yanli. Lan Wangji could see it in her eyes; she knew who he really wanted, but those words never needed to be said aloud. Jiang Yanli was kind to him, and he was kind to her in return. All things considered, it wasn't awful being with someone who wasn't your preferred, but who knew you for yourself and shared your struggles.

"Dianxia, you must've heard, that before I married into your wangfu, I was betrothed to Jin Zixuan." She mentioned one evening over a game of weiqi. Of all his concubines (which he has 4) and friends (which he has few), Jiang Yanli's skill on the weiqi board was unparalleled. Lan Wangji half wondered how the Marquis and Marchioness of Yunmeng could have buried this talented daughter of theirs under the shadow of their son for so many years. "Yes I am aware." "I loved him." "...." For a minute Lan Wangji did not know how to reply. He stared at the chessboard. Jiang Yanli's black pieces had surrounded his white ones and forced them into a corner. "Why are you telling me this?" "Your court, my clan: we are their creatures." Jiang Yanli 's smile was knowing. "I am not A-Xian; I can see what he cannot." "Which is?" "You've fallen for each other. Completely. He denies it, heaven knows why." Jiang Yanli took a delicate sip of tea. Fleetingly, Lan Wangji imagined that if he could not have Wei Ying, if he were forced to take a legal wife to make empress, that she would make a magnificent one. "Father loved Mother. Loved her as a wife even when she was only a consort -" "And his love spurred the hate of the royal court." "They blamed her for his loving a woman more than his country, as though she should have persuaded him to love her less. I do not want the same to happen to Wei Ying." "Nor I." "Huangshu says I would need a legal spouse one day, someone virtuous and from a strong pureblood family." "Is that what dianxia wants?" "I want it to be Wei Ying, though I know it to be impossible. Barring that, I'd want to keep him safe in the harem, the size of which will only grow after I succeed the throne." "For that, dianxia will need a spouse who will reign over the harem as you rule over the country." Lan Wangji contemplated his choices and the options available to him. After some time, he placed the white piece he fiddled between his fingers back into the bamboo bowl, conceding that he'd lost this round. Jiang Yanli waited patiently for him to come to terms with the offer she already knew he would make. He wondered how long ago she had foreseen this moment, whilst simultaneously realizing that if his uncle had any idea just how intelligent she truly was, he would not be so quick to suggest her as a candidate for princess consort. A weak emperor and a strong empress never boded well for the stability of the realm. This was dangerous waters Lan Wangji was wading into, but he knew beyond doubt that the only way to survive was to keep straight ahead. He had no other path to take, none which maximally balanced what he wanted with what he needed. Jiang Yanli was his only solution, his only ally. "Huangxiong suggested that we have a child together." He finally said, staring her squarely in the eyes. "You and I can agree that the son of Gusu Lan and Yunmeng Jiang would certainly be a strong contender amongst his brothers." "She could be a daughter." "Then I'd cherish her more. A child and a crown - would they make you happy, Yanli?" "If I said yes?" "Then they're yours." Jiang Yanli smiled.

Two months after Wei Wuxian was dismissed from Lan Wangji's service and the prince began visiting Jiang Yanli, good new was delivered to Jiang Fengmian and Yu Ziyuan. The message was this: Hanguang-wang's Jiang-furen was with child yet again.

#cql #the untamed #wangxian #cql ficlet #corie fics #without envy #i said i'd do this for yall #and so i did

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demonslayedher · 3 years

Text

Dream Analysis of Mugen Ressha

Spoilers for the movie, while it does not depart from the plot of the manga, they made adaptational choices which I may refer to within.

While Enmu has control over what kind of dream his victims see, ultimately, he would have no way of knowing all of the details of his victims' lives, so we can assume that he is prompting his victims to fill in a lot of the details themselves. These are the worlds they surround themselves with consciously, but their untouchable unconscious spaces say just as much.

I've said some of this before, but these dream sequences give us so much to say about Inosuke, Zenitsu, Kyojuro, and Tanjiro.

Into the dream: Did that "Rengoku-aniki" thing really happen???? It's animated like a fever dream (or drawn like a typical Gotouge-being-Gotouge panel), but both the movie and the manga leave this inconclusive. It can be interpreted two ways: 1. The two other demons were there all along as decoys, set to appear only when Enmu's blood technique slowly started to take effect so that they'd let their guard down. In this way, we'd know that the boys had a true way of witnessing Kyojuro's prowess and a true bonding moment, thereby making his death hit all the harder later. This would also mean that one of the cars was totally unusable for passengers, and many of the passengers were already thoroughly spooked before falling into sleep. It would also imply that they were all super excited, thoroughly relieved, returned to their seats, and then just passed out.

2. The moment the tickets were clipped, Enmu's very, very, very realistic dreams took immediate effect, but he still needed time before it took effect enough that their guards would go down. If this is the case, then it implies the following: 1. Enmu's illusions can be shared 2. Everyone syncs extremely well together to have all been sucked in by the same illusion (it's possible it was only Tanjiro's, but since we get in everyone's heads a little in this part, I believe they all experienced the same thing). Reacting in ways so true to how they would in waking like, they learned as much about each other as truthfully as they would have if they were fighting while awake. 3. The "Rengoku-aniki" thing is the moment they're falling into a deeper stage of sleep, when any bizarre thing will make sense. They've lost any sense of holding back and are embracing the emotions as they hit them. Even if that was all a dream, the bond formed was very real. But then, as they fall deep, they fall into their own headspaces. Inosuke: I love how bombastic this dream is. It moves at a very fast pace, and everything revolves around Inosuke. He is physically much larger than Ponjiro, Chuuitsu, and Pyonko, who clearly follow him as their leader, the most powerful person in this cave exploring world full of wonder and excitement. True to life, these underlings can at times be frustrating or stupid, but there is no one else Inosuke would rather have at his side to take on a hugely impressive foe. It's a relatively simplistic world, what Inosuke really cares about is his place in it, and who is there.

Taking it a step deeper, he should not be able to manifest in his self-conscious space, but Gotouge attributes his and Zenitsu's ability to do this and protect their cores from intruders to their strong senses of self. What's telling is that his subconscious space is practically identical to his conscious dream space; like there is no breakage between one stage of reality and the next. In its Zen-like simplicity Inosuke's mind is never at odds with itself, its interpretation of reality is fluid and seamless. However, being at this deeper state brings us to a deeper state of self actualization, with Inosuke manifesting closer to the ideal beast he views himself as.

Now, with Inosuke being so fully invested in what he sees as reality, he's still got a carry-over effect from dream after waking up, which one could interpret as not having fully shaken the effects of Enmu's blood technique. After all, Zenitsu simply never broke out of it, Tanjiro had to kill himself in his dreams each time to fully snap out of it, and Kyojuro was the only one powerful enough to have broken through its effects through his own willpower. When Tanjiro says the train is a demon, he buzzes with "I was right!" (a conviction that only got stronger in his dream), and Inosuke's declarations of being the boss and Tanjiro being his underling are indignantly plentiful and he fully believes what he is saying every time he brings it up, even if he's aware that he's no longer in the cave exploring dream. But, given that Inosuke is so at peace with his own version of reality, it's also just as likely that his conviction of being The Boss was also only compounded by the dream, and all that dream did was give him a more fun setting in which to play around in. But, what was so fun about the dream, what made him sleep-giggle with pleasure, was that everyone else was finally getting with the program and recognizing him as the boss, as they should. Finally. It's so frustrating in real life that he has to keep reminding them to get it right. Get it, Santaro?? GOOD. Zenitsu: What I love here is the contrast between subconscious and conscious space. Both of them have the same theme melody, but played in very, very different ways. They also both play with the same core desire in very different ways as well. Is it so much to ask that he can just spend some time alone with the girl he loves?? If we jump straight to the pitch black unconscious space, he specifies to the intruder that only Nezuko is allowed there. Not just girls in general, not a close friend like Tanjiro, only the one girl he loves, and even then, you'd have to love someone a lot to invite them into the deepest, darkest corners of your soul. And it is a very, very, very, very dark corner. Zenitsu's spent most of his life building that dark, pessimistic personality, compounded by the treatment he's always received throughout his life and what he believes about himself at his core. He's ugly and depraved there, and very defensive. Because he holds himself in such darkness, that makes him desire the bright, happy, completely idealistic world of his conscious dream world. It's rich with detail and warm and he knows it well, that places is the first place he ever felt someone have hope for him; it's Jiichan's home, that sunny place with delicious peaches and full of clovers and lush greenery and a charming stream. Of course he'd want to show it all to Nezuko, she deserves to see such a happy, pretty place! And, while the world is idealized and happy, Nezuko is e-x-t-r-e-m-e-l-y cute and actually wants to hang out with him too. She's willing no hold his hand, none of the girls who dated (read: used) Zenitsu in the past were ever willing to hold his hand. He even gets to show her that he can be cool, and she likes it!! She looks him in the eyes and is totally honest about enjoying his company!!

He just wants someone to want him back. He wants to belong in the sunshine too. So, even if he had it in him to wake up from Enmu's blood technique, who can blame him for staying there? (You know, besides Tanjiro, who has been desperately screaming for them all to wake up and help him protect the passengers. Zzzzz, five more minutes, Tanjiro, zzzzzzz----) Kyojuro: This... isn't really a happy dream. Kyojuro has accepted a lot of sad parts of his reality so wholeheartedly that he doesn't seek the comfort of a dream in which his mother is still alive, or a dream in which his father is proud of him. Instead, what Kyojuro was looking for was the chance to go back and say more to Senjuro. This implies that on the real day he knelt in that room, while his father faced away and read the book* while Kyojuro told him all about how he defeated Lower Moon Two and became a Pillar, and was met with his father's heartbreakingly unenthusiastic reply, he later went outside and...

...didn't say any words of comfort to Senjuro.

This regret, that he didn't do more for his brother whom he knew was hurting in his own silent ways this whole time, was what sat most bothersomely in Kyojuro's otherwise peacefully self-assured psyche (or fired-up psyche, if you go by his subconscious space) . It makes sense that in his dying wishes, the first thing he requests is that Tanjiro do this in his stead. *Speaking of that book, Kyojuro had forgotten about it until his memories pulled together to create the details of the dream, which was why he thought to mention it to Tanjiro later. This shows that Enmu is not an architect of people's dreams, he only sets them in motion. How believable they are depends on each victim. (Totally unrelated, I love the design of the Rengoku estate's garden??? It's primarily evergreen and unflowering trees, meaning it stays relatively steadfast throughout the year, a garden designed in samurai villa taste. Plus the details of the house also fit really well, I think??? Would need to review research of buke-yashiki architecture to say more.) Tanjiro: ...*deep breath* This boy really, really wants to go home. Like, the climax of the movie is amazing and all, but it's the scenes with Tanjiro's family that make me cry. Ugh, where do I start. Enmu probably just grabs on to whatever thread of a desire a person has, and then he just tugs on it and says "this way, let's go really far in this direction, show me where it goes, hmm, okay, nice, lovely. Have fun here, I've now seen enough to write my own angsty version for later." So... so I'm just going to work backwards a moment. Enmu screwed up here, thinking he could really read the depth of Tanjiro's family and his feelings for them. He thought he could make a convincing version of these "characters" cry and shove Tanjiro around and speak meanly to him and make him feel shame. And the cut to that dream, OH MY GOSH, truly horrific sound and color change. But Tanjiro's sees through it so fast that he wakes up immediately and uses that anger at how Enmu wrote them to cut off his "head." You screwed up, Enmu, you blew it, maybe other people would very so blown down by the shock that they wouldn't question how unreal that dream sequence is, but Tanjiro has honed his fighting spirit so much that it's been nagging him even throughout his happy dream. And he really, really, really wants to stay in that happy dream. Like, even though he's on guard at the beginning, so much so that he only focuses on the familiar feeling of a demon being around and does not notice the familiar landscape AT ALL. But the moment Hanako and Shigeru step in, convincingly made from Tanjiro's memories and unedited by Enmu, Tanjiro throws that all away in an instant. As he says when he's trying, after trying and trying and trying to rip himself away from the dream, he was never even supposed to had left this world. He was never supposed to had touched anything like a sword, they were all supposed to stay there together, living their simple life. If things hadn't gone wrong that one night. Tanjiro cares deeply about his mission, he's adopted his training deeply, he has serious desire to improve, which is why his subconsciously keeps trying to call himself back to reality, but it's so hard, because this is where he wants to be, and it's even harder because it feels so real. It's a little peeve of mine when families with lots of little siblings are written to be too angelic and idealistic, and there is some of that with the "let's make sembei, yaaaay" scene, but... but that's actually pretty true. I'm giving myself away with how close this hits to home, but it's a dynamic in a lot of large families, especially large families pretty happy to stay to themselves and people who live the same sort of conservative, traditional lifestyle, to foster in the older siblings some pride in taking care of the little ones and helping create that happy world for them, even if taking care of little kids can be rough. It's not to say that things are always happy and fluffy, they're not, and that's not to say even

happy kids don't resent being in a large family sometimes. But there's plenty of moments in daily life, especially in the presence of small children, that you get swept up into a sillier, happy, caretaker side of yourself, and since you all grow up with these silly moments together, you're going to naturally fall into into some silly, scripted-feeling moments of "then I'll be in charge of eating the sembei!" "no faaaaair!". So, I'll give the sembei scene a pass because that IS a moment that happens in years of moments with the same posse of kiddos around you all the time. But it's also so striking to me how each of Tanjiro's siblings, however idealized, has their own personality. The traits are so subtle but consistent and Tanjiro knows all of them. They pick up on things about each other, they grow realistically annoyed and surprised and concerned and scared like they would if they were real instead of only Tanjiro's memories of them. Those kids feel so real to me, even if they are annoyingly overidealized in some parts as Tanjiro is letting himself get swept away. And just when he's managing to part from it to go face reality, Enmu makes more attack: he brings in Nezuko, trying to make it feel like there's no point in Tanjiro running at all. She's fine. There's nothing left for him to fight for. Everything's fine. And all over again, Tanjiro just stops. He KNOWS it's not real, but he's hurting so much to hear her voice again that he just sto-o-o-o-ps. And his desire to stay with the others catches up to him all over again, and he's tempted all over again to stay, EVEN KNOWING IT'S NOT REAL and there are very, very, very pressing matters to attend to. Even if it was all a little happy and idealized, more than anything, it felt like life always did. It's telling that when Tanjiro finally, FINALLY pulls away from that that time, he doesn't look back, and the family stops chasing him. This is Tanjiro accepting reality, however much it hurts. He's already had a couple years to accept this, but it was all overwhelming to get such a vivid taste of it again.

Tanjiro wants to do well to his organization and honor Urokodaki's training and avenge the fallen and prevent anyone else from being hurt and see an end to Kibutsuji Muzan and make Nezuko human again, but more than anything, he wants that simple life. And it's so, so heartwarming that at the end of the manga, he gets it.

It's not the same. It'll never be the same.

He never wanted a life with a sword, but he's been working so hard at it anyway.

#my heart is broken and it's Kamado Tanjiro's fault #KnY Fandom Theories and Meta #Mugen Ressha Hen #Kamado Tanjiro #Kamado Tanjirou #Agatsuma Zenitsu #Hashibira Inosuke #Rengoku Kyoujurou #Rengoku Kyojuro

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caker-baker · 3 years

Text

Prompt by @gingerly-writing -

“Please, you have to help me save my sidekick.”

“Have to? Darling, ‘have to’ fled out the door the moment you did. You left me. I don’t owe you anything.”

“I’ll come back.”

“What?”

“I’ll come back. And when I do, I’ll give you everything you ever wanted.”

The hero stood unwavering, watching the villain’s cold calculation. They had half a mind to wonder if they would be enough payment, but they also saw the villain’s sudden fidget at their offer.

“So easily?” The villain asked after the stretch of silence. “I seem to recall you being very angry at me.”

The hero jerked their hand up to comfort the villain, a strange force of habit that they needed to work on.

“I didn’t-” they let their hand fall. “I still don’t agree with what you do. But I didn’t know that I would hurt you.”

The villain considered this. “Sure, you didn’t know it would hurt. Just like you don’t know all that I truly want. Your bargain is steep.”

“Will you help me?”

“Obviously.”

For it being the hero’s sidekick that needed rescuing, the villain did take the lead.

They were much more familiar with the other villain, every hiding place, each dark crevice used to stash someone away in, and the best ways to break into that dark place.

The hero watched in amazement as the villain crushed one of the kidnapper’s cameras. It was positioned very carefully on the roof, and they had about five more to go before fully raising the other villain’s alarms.

“When did you get so strong?” The hero asked.

“Always have been.” They brushed off the comment. “What are you doing when the villain gets here?”

“I know the plan.”

“Amuse me.” The villain really just wanted reassurance that the hero wouldn’t get hurt, that they would follow this through to a T.

“Whenever he arrives to check out his offline cameras, you knock him out-”

“Or kill him.” The villain interjected. “Fingerprints still work when you’re dead.”

Truthfully, the hero didn’t entirely disagree with that, but their sidekick’s safety was more important than ensuring someone’s death.

“I get in and out, you keep watch.” The hero concluded.

“Good.”

With the last camera crushed, they waited.

“Earlier,” The hero started, wishing the darkness could swallow them. “You said I didn’t know what you wanted. You still agreed.”

It would’ve been easy for the villain to relax, but they needed to be on guard.

“Now is the time you want to bring this up?” A muscle in their jaw ticked. “Darling, I don’t owe you an explanation.”

“No.” The hero conceded. “But it would be nice.”

“Fan out!”

The two of them tensed even more at the other villain’s voice, but still went into action.

It was the hero who moved first, scouting for henchmen in the dark. The villain waited for the other villain, fully expecting him to investigate the broke cameras himself. Arrogance would be his downfall.

Taking down henchmen was an easy task. Villains employed quick, less than tactical muscle, that much the hero knew.

There were ten of them total, each the hero had managed the upper hand. They didn’t hesitate when they felt a hand on their shoulder, grabbing and twisting the arm.

“Hey!” The villain whisper-shouted, teeth clenched. “Just me.”

The hero dropped their hold on the villain. “Sorry! Are you ok?” Another instinct movement, a gentle touch to see if the villain was alright.

The villain didn’t pull away.

“I’m fine, our guy isn’t.” They smiled mischievously, something the hero used to love. “He’s going to wake up in a very amusing situation.”

The villain didn’t bother to elaborate, even with the hero’s raised eyebrow, they simply motioned to a now open door.

“Go on, then.”

That was all the hero needed to bolt inside. They didn’t bother taking in the dark surroundings, they just looked for a silhouette in the dark.

“Hey, hey.” The hero spoke softly to the half-conscious sidekick.

Their knife did quick work with the ropes, the hero even quicker to catch their staggering sidekick.

“Hero?” The sidekick questioned, their words slurring slightly due to swelling on their cheek.

“Stay awake for me, yeah?”

The hero hated this, and was hit with the sudden realization of why there were so few sidekicks. If any were officially rescued, they often disappeared with no trail to follow. The ones that weren’t officially rescued left, very bluntly and quickly, angry they were going to be left behind.

The hero didn’t want to break the news to their sidekick that this was an unofficial rescue, the hero wanted to break whoever decided their sidekick wasn’t important enough for an official rescue.

When the villain saw them, they let out a low whistle. “They look rough.”

With a glare from the hero, the villain sighed, moving to help carry the sidekick. The three didn’t stop until they reached the villain’s hidden away car.

“Hero?” The sidekick began again. “What’s villain doing here?” There was very little light to see what the sidekick looked like, but based on the way their words sounded, the hero could take a guess.

The sidekick was still shaking, but they held strong in the hero’s arms, who seemed unwilling to answer.

“Why aren’t the others here? Why are you with villain? The other heroes-” The finally piece of the puzzle fell into place. With shuddering realization, the sidekick spoke. “They were going to leave me.”

“Can we talk about it?” The hero asked, glancing at the villain. They didn’t know how soon the villain would like good on their deal.

They made a point to sigh dramatically, but still raised their hands up to go ahead.

“I’ll be here.” The villain said quietly, eyeing the hero before sliding into the driver’s seat.

“So you-” it was hard to form the words. “You made a deal with villain?”

“Don’t be mad.” The hero spoke, gently taking their hands. “The others wouldn’t listen. They didn’t understand, I had to-”

They were cut off with a strangled scoff. “Hero, I don’t care your method, you saved me.”

They fell into silence, and the hero wished they had brought a first aid kit with them, at least so the sidekick could get momentary relief. Though they should have help with that shortly.

“I do need to know.” The sidekick was truly scared of the answer, but an answer was needed. “What does this mean for you?”

There was a thin smile across the hero’s face. They were deciding what to say.

“I just...promised to come back.”

That left the sidekick with more questions.

“Hold on.” Their eyelids drooped suddenly. “Don’t...”

“You need to take it easy.” The hero said, grabbing their sidekick by the shoulders. “I called in a favor. They should be here shortly.”

“Hero, no.”

“It’s just my medic friend. Turns out, professionals don’t care whether or not you were meant to be saved.” It was supposed to be a joke, but the sidekick looked unamused. They were too weak to feel amused.

“We’re five minutes ahead of schedule.” The hero continued. “They’ll be here in a moment.”

The sidekick had been running on adrenaline and worry for the better part of the night, the extra energy boost was finally wearing off.

“We need to go.”

They hadn’t even heard the villain getting out of the car.

“The medic will be here soon, they’ll be fine.” Their words were meant to be comforting, to draw the hero away quick, but it didn’t have the desired effect.

The hero pulled the sidekick in for a gentle hug, praying that the medic would be here soon, knowing they got lucky getting the help they did.

“If you want to leave this business,” they whispered in the sidekick’s ear. “find me. I will help you.”

“Come on. I can’t be seen here by anyone else tonight.” The villain urged, gently grabbing the crook of the hero’s arm.

Everything else passed in a blur, but the hero was strangely aware of the car’s leather seats.

“Hey.” The villain held out a free hand, the one not on the steering wheel. “They’ll be ok. I promise I wouldn’t leave them alone if they were in danger.”

The hero grimaced, but still took the villain’s hand. “I know.”

It took a moment for the hero to realize that the villain was absentmindedly tracing the lines of their palm. Old habits apparently didn’t die for either of them, as evident through their actions.

The villain spared half a glance before looking back to the road.

“What do you think coming back entails?” They asked, eyes glued to the dark road ahead.

“All the reasons I left last time. I couldn’t be the person you wanted, I couldn’t give up this life to be...more like you.” The hero thought to pull their hand away, trying to be aloof; but the villain had seemingly thought about that possibility seconds before, gently squeezing their hand to keep holding on.

“No.” The villain responded simply, turning on a road the hero found familiar.

“No?”

“Darling, I don’t want you to be anybody else. I’m not nice. I’m a selfish person, but believe me when I tell you you’re the only one I’ve ever wanted as a constant.” They hummed in thought. “Though a literal partner in crime would be nice.”

The hero shot them a look, vaguely taking note of the corner they were turning on.

“So I was wrong?” They asked, their head turned to face the villain, who nodded. “Then why is my bargain steep?”

Another turn, each more familiar than the last. This turn was different, the villain’s knuckles were white from gripping the steering wheel, frustration seeping into their driving.

“There’s more to life than villainy, heroics.” The villain bit the inside of their cheek. “You never acted like it.”

They were parked, and the hero knew the destination.

“We aren’t young forever.” The villain was now able to give their full attention to the hero, holding both of their hands.

“No, we aren’t.” The hero admitted. “What do you want?”

At some point, they had both leaned closer.

“Bliss.” The villain whispered. “You and me. A home, mortgages, grocery shopping, arguing over chores, coming home to one another.”

There was hardly an inch between them.

“Darling, all I want is you in my arms, that’s all I ever wanted.”

The hero felt themselves swallow, their eyes flickering between the villain’s lips and face.

They didn’t want to give up heroics, the villain was right, but god, it was tempting at the moment.

“I made a deal, didn’t I?”

A soft smile answered the hero’s question, a hand reaching up to cradle their face.

“You did.”

Lips met, the first reunited kiss was just as electric as the first official kiss. The villain carefully cupping the hero’s face, the hero returning the gesture.

The villain was the one to pull away. “Which is why it can’t happen yet.”

Begrudgingly, the hero let their hold fall, respecting the villain’s signals.

“So what does this mean?” The hero asked, eyes drifting towards the familiar threshold.

It was clever of the villain to drive to the hero’s house, mostly for the villain’s sake. They were, after all, selfish, and wanted to get the hero home before they decided to truly collect their end of the bargain.

“It means I’m waiting, however long it takes. When you step down,” the villain gave a pointed look at this, almost daring the hero to challenge the notion. “I’ll be there.”

A smile broke across the hero’s face. “Walk me in?”

“Happily.”

#villain x hero #based off a prompt #hero x villain #villainess #heroine #hero #villain #villains #heroes #snippets #hero writes #villain writes #wip #villains and heroes #heroes and villains

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nightswithkookmin · 3 years

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Hi Goldy, JK was bold in the past, around 2017-2019 (to me, gcf & rosebowl can be considered as ‘coming out’). But it seems he now prefers to stay closeted? E.g. he snatched JM’s hand in the Xylitol x BTS shoot, then looked at the camera. Holding hands is normal among members… a lot of his interactions with Jin, V and other members are more intimate than holding hands… his reaction makes me feel like he wants me to pretend I didn’t know…?

Sorry I've been a bit AWOL lately...

I'm busy being the man of my woman's dreams in a cis het anti black capitalist world

Fun times.

I saw that bit, uWu-ed and kept it pushing.

It's nothing new really. I think a few months back when I was out here screaming Jikook are toning down, acting super professional around the cameras yadda yadda people out here were looking at me like I'd lost my two delulu heads- but this segues into that theme for me and since I've exhausted the topic I don't know what else to add.

I've said before they've both been very conscious of the cameras within certain periods post October- again nothing new, they be like that every now and then every season every phase and the whys will always be up for debate in these ship streets- on that subject, I've read a lot of opinions yet I think like mine better and will stick to it. Thanks Kimberly of Delulu precinct. Walk along now. Lol.

Jimin was like that during the Coway behind the scene shoot too when he noticed the cameras and quickly elbowed Jk to draw him away from the gaze of the cameras.

I don't think it's because they stopped being 'bold' or want to pretend. It takes a lot of courage to even pretend or even perform the gay in front of the world and your peers. I think they are just awfully aware and conscious of the people they work with as well as corporation's growing awareness, intentions and interests in them. You just never know which saessang is moonlighting as a brand PA or marketing director for a company they are working with. You just never know who is watching especially whenever they have to work with these 'outsiders.'

Think of Dispatch. Were they not allies or business partners, they'd be careful around them too if they worked with them. Know what I mean?

Toning down and exercising caution is necessary sometimes. I don't know why some people think that's absurd or Tuktukkerish when I say stuff like that. Especially with the kind of reputation they have as a ship and just how commercially attractive that image is. It's common sense at this point if you ask me.

Jikook sells. Argue with the analytics. I don't know who thinks they don't. Must be the clowns and penguins. They sell period. BigHit knows this, BTS knows this, companies know this. We don't scream Jikook is a brand within a brand for no reason.

And a lot of the toning down in recent times has perhaps inadvertently mitigated that growing power and demand of them as a marketing resource- who knows, that could have as well been by design, intentionally instigated for obvious reasons which I argue is the case but don't mind me. I'm delusional, gay and apparently the man of my woman's dreams uWu. Gotta wear that pants in my relationship. Ayaya Hwaiting.

When you say he prefers to stay closested- I thought they are both closested already?? They both have never been fully out in our opinion. Yes our opinion because I feel we are like minded. Let's be delulu mates.

On the topic of closets, I want to save that for a separate post. What I can say though is they are both growing and maturing and learning and unlearning. Jungkook's desire to 'come out' or act reckless with his glass closet in my opinion stemmed from him placing more value on his personal happiness over other values perhaps because he was young and hadn't fully grasped the full and complex nature of happiness or understand the privilege he has as part of BTS.

We make decisions based on our values most times. It's how I make sense of their actions really. I'm more likely to assume things that are consistent with the values they each have expressed openly and tend to reject any theory that contradicts or is inconsistent with those values. A guy who values his career is less likely to act in a way that puts that career at risk. And I'm well aware their values evolve over time.

These days he has never quit as one of his mottos next to rather dead than cool- do you see the contradictions in those values? Rather dead means quitting life. Yet now he says never quit. Don't mind me. I'm in a grumpy mood.

But what I'm saying is, the desire to want to show the world who this person means to him is not fixed or a priority all the time. Now i think he values his career a lot more than before which means he is more likely to compromise and less likely to do things that may put that career in jeopardy.

Transferring that to his relationship, I don't expect him to be breaching the glass closet anytime soon. And if he do, it might be incidental and may carry with it consequences which I believe he is well aware and concious of now. Will that change? You bet. Again it depends a lot on what his values in a given moment are and which ones he prioritizes.

It's their relationship. They chose which aspects of it they want to share with the cameras. Some of it get written off as fanservice. Fair enough. But the nonfanservice passing moments has always been questionable- although I must say, I find all Jikook moments and interactions questionable lol.

It's just skinship. Holding hands I mean. Why would he be conscious of that right? II'vetalked about consequences and repercussions of their actions. Sometimes I think it's the off screen scolding that gets to him. The ones silently whispered at his back. I mean we saw his reaction when Jimin was getting scolded by the hyungs for sleeping late. He's talked about skipping sleep too if I recall correctly. Jimin is hyung and I know the hyungs expect him to know better and do better. I'd Imagine Jimin would equally scold JK if his actions reflected poorly on him too.

So why the hell would he not say anything to Jungkook for posting on his birthday when he hadn't posted at all for any hyung's??? Sigh.

It's sad his guards are back up- but it's for good reason I believe given the context of the situation.

I don't think dramatizing his dynamic with Jimin makes him bold. Nor does Jimin's propensity to over express himself with Jungkook mean he loves Jungkook more than. Both are extreme takes for me.

Nevertheless, I contrast that moment with a Tae Kook moment which is one of my favorite tuktukk moments. In this moment, JK is staring at Jimin, his whole body turned towards him. Tae notices the cameras and draws JK's attention to it. I think there are two such moments like that from the recent contents? I don't know I have to cross check.

Tae in that moment reminded me a lot of Jimin. Jimin does this too- play out their relationship infront of the cameras to the point one might say he likes to show off their bond- which is such a BTS thing to do too so no big deal. I mean they like to show off their bond and chemistry as Tae said a while back.

It's one thing for JK to hesitate to act with a member because of the cameras, it's another for him to act self conscious only after the fact.

And JK has always been him like this with Jimin as Jimin used to say- JK acts different with me off cameras than he is on camera. He had a history of suppressing himself around Jimin owing in part to his personality

He's talked about putting on a mask around people and in a recent interview Jimin have talked about pretending and acting one way when he's not- I mean I've ever talked about the boy being in love with the Maknae being a facade- one of many.

They have public personas which, from what BTS themselves say, looks slightly different or similar to what we see on screens- or that they've grown to be more like what we see on screens.

I guess what I'm getting at is that 'pretending' isn't exactly a new thing or out of the ordinary. Personally I'd say he's being conscious of his surroundings like Jimin was and not that he is 'pretending.' If you know what I mean.

If he's pretending he has good reason to I believe and we can only speculate on that- we can't know for sure why.

If Jikook is fanservice then there's no need for either of them to worry about the cameras picking up on their interactions or who's watching them.

What goes on in Tae's head? I wanna know.

I don't know where to direct this post because you didn't really ask a question.

I'm fine thanks for asking. I'm really fine. I'm thinking of joining Jimin in the gym at 3am to bench press and build some biceps to match my role in my relationship😒

And no I don't need any advice. Keep it.

This is going to be my attitude until we switch back😐

I'm gonna be a boyfriend from hell and a blogger from satan's ass.

Also I think I overshare💀

GOLDY

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kolhearted · 3 years

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QUICKIE LITTLE META THING. || I don’t speak nearly enough about how much Kol looks like Elijah. Like, it’s a thing, and when I was choosing an alt FC who then became my default, it was something that I truly wanted to preserve, because it felt so thematically important. Out of all of the kids, Elijah and Kol look the most similar, certainly. There are a lot of similarities between the Freya, and Rebekah, definitely, but they’re still not a starkly similar as Elijah and Kol. And I have always thought that that had a far larger impact on Kol than it likely did Elijah, though I do have some thoughts about what Elijah may be thinking of when he looks at a little brother who could basically be his mirror.

But for Kol, having a far more than passing similarity to Elijah is something he’s aware of, essentially from older childhood. It was kind of mentioned when he was a really little kid, that he had the same coloring as his brother, but when he grew out of being a toddler and more into having, like, distinct features, it became really apparent that between these two boys in particular, the familial genes were very strong. I think it’s even more relevant that these are the two births that surround Esther’s infidelity. They stand in very clear relief that something is different with Nik, that he doesn’t look like the others nearly as much. He’s surrounded on both sides by brothers who could be mirrors, and I do think that plays a big role in how Nik treats Kol, even if it isn’t fully conscious. But strictly from Kol’s perspective, he knows that there are comparisons made between especially himself and Elijah when their similarities are realized. And he also knows that Elijah, so buttoned up, always comes across so much better than he does. He can’t help it.

This also plays a role in how Kol styles himself for sure. He not only styles himself to be a little older than his 18 physical years, but also, he tries to separate himself from Elijah. So where Elijah always wears suits, Kol is more casual in his slacks and henleys. He isn’t as meticulous about his hair. He lets his facial hair cover his cheeks.

If I could be so bold as to make assumptions about Elijah as well, I think that Kol’s similarities are a big reason why he’s so rough on Kol and why he seems to hold Kol to a double-standard he doesn’t his other siblings. Kol can’t seem to ever get anything right, and I think that it has a lot to do with Elijah projecting his own faults onto Kol because he looks like Elijah’s own shadow. He likely doesn’t even realize he’s doing it, but Kol’s actions feel like a threat to that red door he historically knows nothing about, and he acts accordingly to protect himself. I could see that being a subconscious thing for him.

But yeah: the fact that Kol and Elijah resemble each other so much really feels so freaking poetic to me and it’s sent me down so, so, so many rabbit holes.

#this is just a mind dumb i didn't reorganize this at all really #ii. ( ic ) — meta #ii. ( ic ) — headcanon #iii. ( family ) — elijah

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willadisastercry · 3 years

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Slow and steady... breathe.

tw: severe blood loss, needles, self surgery, loss of conciousness.

Lance wasn’t particularly aversed to needles, he just didn’t want to have to willingly stab himself with one, ya know? Everyone is distraught once they realize Lance is hurt and that they can’t be there to help him because they’re in the middle of nowhere and can’t leave their lions, so talking him through stitching himself back together is the best solution they have. If only Lance can stay awake long enough to fix himself up so he makes the journey.

“Is everyone alright?”

Keith’s voice jolted Lance from his slumped position after his body had gone lax with exhaustion and his mind wondered off. He almost didn’t catch Keith’s question with how intently he was staring at the floor in front of his pilot chair where a sizable puddle was beginning to form.

“Didn’t really account for having to bail so soon without checking in and we have a long way to go before he get back to where Coran had to move the castle...”

He wondered vaguely what he could’ve possibly spilled as he shrugged off the weariness from the battle they had just narrowly escaped. They were all spent after things went pear shaped and had to evade the hail of fire from galra blasters all the way up to their lion’s ramps.

Everyone ushered their respective ‘yes’s though, even Lance, but Keith decided to do a sound off for damage control anyway since they had a bit of a journey before they made it back to the castleship.

“Pidge? Did your shield hold up?”

Shield. Hmm. Lance knit his brows together as he forced his brain to work through the fog that addled it.

“Yeah, it did. I’m not hurt.”

Unlike Pidge, Lance wasn’t as lucky and his had cracked almost immediately in his one on one with the galra soldier that had discovered him. He’d taken post in a makeshift sniper hole between some storage crates to cover his team as they made their eacape.

“Good, how about you, Hunk?”

Lance wondered what else he was forgetting about the battle they’d just fought, maybe that’s why he felt so strange and out of it, why his mind was so slow.

What the fuck happened back there?

“—saw you take a few hits in close combat at the end there, you alright?”

Lance’s heart fluttered sadly as he recalled how he had been lining up a shot for the soldier that was advancing on Hunk when he’d been caught.

His scope had just zeroed in on the soldier when one that Lance wasn’t aware of made his own surprise attack, clutching the armor around his ankles so painfully that he was afraid it’d crack before yanking him backwards and away from his position.

He had cried out more at fact that he hadn’t gotten the shot in because that meant that Hunk would have to fight and he hated fighting. The guy was a goddamned pacifist in the middle of an intergalactic war, but his build made him look like a formidable threat and attracted unwanted attention during battle all the time.

Lance just wanted to spare his friend from having to engage in the thing he hated so much. But he couldn’t. He’d failed.

“I’m dandy, nothing more than a couple of bruises Coran’s special cream can fix.”

Those bruises were Lance’s fault. He had failed to protect him from that soldier, to protect him from having to do the thing he hated. It took all of him to stifle the broken sound that erupted in his throat as his stomach clenched with guilt.

“Okay, let me know if anything changes.”

Lance breathed shakily as he blinked back tears, but even when he wiped the wetness under his eyes they remained blurry, unfocused.

“Allura? You were with me but you had the quintessence—”

That’s what this entire mission was about...

Stealing a powerful vat of quitessence Pidge had been keeping tabs on with intel she’d stolen from a galra battleship en route to occupy a peaceful planet in the nearby solar system. Shiro wanted them to intercept the delivery so that there would be less catastrophe when they formed Voltron to defend the planet.

It was more than vital that they succeeded and Lance was determined, ready to do whatever he could to prove himself as a sharpshooter and make sure they secured what they were after.

“You can be at ease that I am uninjured and the quintessence is in tact.”

This bit of information did little to ease the rapidly increasing feeling of wrong that was consuming him. They had succeeded and he had done his job relatively well aside for one mistake, but that mistake had gotten Hunk hurt, and he was having a hard time reconciling that to make the success feel like a victory.

He was also having a hard time staying focused on Keith as he spoke with each of them, all of their voices as they recounted the battle muddling together, lost behind the ear piercing ringing that only he seemed to be affected by.

His breathing picked up and he was vaguely aware that he had started sweating, realizing he’d zoned out again just in time for his turn to check in with Keith.

“Great, and Lance? I know you were in a bit of a scuffle, are you all good?”

Five minutes ago he would have answered with a resounding yes, but as soon as he’d sat down in Blue the pump of adrenaline through his body slowed and the weariness had dripped away bit by bit to reveal that he actually felt incredibly weird. Of which was doubly confirmed with the near constant waves of concern Blue was sending him.

“Uhhm,” Lance paused, his mind blank.

For the first time in literally ever he had no idea what to say. His mind was in a thick haze as his body continued to try and come down from the massive high of combat and so he found he couldn’t really grasp what the strange feeling was exactly.

“I... I think I took a couple of direct blows after my shield... maybe my head because I sort of feel... I don’t know actually, just-just weird I guess...”

“Wait, your shield crapped out while you were fighting that soldier?”

Lance was slower to respond this time.

“Yeah, it cracked, my shield...” his words came out between increasingly ragged breaths.

“Well, that’s not promising. What do you mean by weird, do you think you might have a concussion?”

“Concussion...” he mused aloud, not really understanding why that was a concern before he reminded himself that he was fully missing a few key events from the end of the mission. He was faintly aware of worried fussing from Hunk and Allura as he racked his brain.

“Pidge, can you pull up a full visual of Lance?”

“On it!”

“...I don’t think I hit my head though. I mean, yeah, I guess I do feel a little dizzy maybe... and lightheaded... everything looks kinda strange too,” Lance rattled off as he took in his surroundings.

The lights of the panels and screens in front of him blurred and stretched if he moved his eyes too fast, so he tried to keep still and focus on just Keith’s face for now. It was pinched with concern but his voice divulged nothing but calm.

He could feel Blue nudging him, clearly worried over something because she had been withholding control of the steering for a while and was doing most of the piloting then.

“Easy girl, I’m alright,” Lance whispered.

He was becoming more lightheaded by the minute and his movements were now so sluggish he wasn’t sure he’d have been able to steer straight much longer anyway.

“Full screen visual should be popping up—

“Oh, crap!”

“Lance, what the hell?”

“Lance?” Keith’s voice was steady, breaking through the sea of concerned remarks pointedly.

For everyone else the entire view of Lance’s cockpit was now visible and so was the red that painted the front of his armor and much of the floor.

“Lance... do you know how long you’ve been bleeding?”

“Huh? I’m not-I didn’t get... wait, what do you—woah,” Lance had looked down to examine himself, certain there would be nothing.

But there was. And he was really confused because he hadn’t felt a thing but the sheet of red cascading down his armor from his side said otherwise.

He swallowed thickly, head swimming from the angle as he peered down at the grizzly sight. With the threat of passing out now a very real possibility, he brought his head back up to rest against the back of the chair and looked elsewhere as he fought the blood rush that threatened his ability to remain conscious. Something about seeing that much of his own blood was making him sick to his stomach.

“-nce! Lance, focus! Good, okay, so did the soldier have a sword or a blaster?”

He knit his brows together as he thought back on it. He remembers glinting metal that swooped down on him in short, swift arcs. The solider had a very long and very serrated knife, not a blaster. He didn’t even have enough time to transform his bayard before the soldier descended on him, his shield not lasting more than four hits before it shattered.

“A knife, he-he had a knife...”

He tried to ignore the resurgence of worried questions from his friends.

“Okay, can’t be that bad if you didn’t even notice, right?” Keith tried to put him at ease but it wasn’t really working.

He hadn’t noticed when it happened because he was quite literally battling for his life, losing a significant amount of blood in the time that had passed since then. And that scared him.

Because he wasn’t phsyically with the others, he was bleeding out and basically alone.

He was going to die... and his friends would get to watch.

“Lance, stop worrying and just focus on me okay?”

“R-right, sure. Um, what-what do I do though? We can’t just pull over... we’re in the middle of nowhere in outer space and the castle is too far... what if—I don’t want t—I can’t-can’t—“

“Lance! What did I just say? Stop worrying and listen to me!”

He dragged his eyes from the hole they were burning into Blue’s dashboard to meet Keith’s purple saucers.

“You’re okay. You’ve got a med kit in the cargo hold and we can talk you through how to patch yourself up, yeah? You’ll be fine.”

“Fine. Right, I-I’ll be fine.”

“Do you think you can stand? The med kit is on the wall behind you.”

“I can try...”

Lance scooted to the edge of the pilot chair and braced himself before rising onto his legs.

“Shit...”

The world spun before him as the new orientation produced another swell of blood from the comprised bit of his armor where he’d been... he didn’t even know what he’d been yet but he knew it wasn’t good.

He forced himself to take a deep breath, blinking away the static before starting for the back of the cockpit, using the wall to keep himself upright.

“Kit’s on the left.”

Walking felt weird. His legs were weak and didn’t seem to ever go where he intended, but they held his weight even when he’d acquired the bulky med kit and had use a bit more effort to lug it back to his pilot chair.

His friends were in the middle of a discussion Lance hadn’t heard and continued when he returned. He had to set the kit down before maneuvering carefully around the puddle to get himself seated in his chair.

He began tugging off the top half of his armor, starting with the gloves and elbow guards which came off painlessly. It was only when he moved to the top most pieces that he ran in to some issues. He inhaled sharply when tugging on his right shoulder guard pulled at whatever was waiting beneath his armor on his side.

“Hey hermano, just breathe, you’ve got it,” Hunk offered when Lance stopped.

He nodded and took another deep breath before continuing.

The left shoulder guard came off with little incident when he approached it with more caution, but now came the chest piece. He separated the clasps at the bottom and sides before leaning forward to slide the back piece out, the front piece falling away when he leaned back in his chair.

He gasped and was sure that his friends had too when they saw the gash in his side. It was long and wide, deepest towards his back and tapering off on his stomach just above his belly button.

Lance remembered it now. Once the shield finally shattered, he threw his hands over his head and rolled out from under a hit that would have killed him.

The soldier seethed at the evasion and launched at Lance again, giving him barely enough time to deploy his bayard before he was on him. Twisting around was all he could do to get more distance between them so he could take his shot, but he wasn’t quick enough. He caught the impending strike in his side anyway, the blade cutting into him due to his own momentum even after the soldier had stopped swinging and fell to his knees lifelessly.

He thought his armor had held, not aware of the splintering crack where the blade broke through the joint at the midsection.

“Okay, okay, hey! You’re still okay! You’re going to fix it and we’ll walk you through it, yeah?”

He nodded. The air in Blue seemed to be warmer than usual but it didn’t stop him from shivering now that his armor was off. All of the heat in his body seemed to be drawn to the hole in his side.

“Pidge, do you think—“

“Yeah, I’ve already patched Coran in and he’s got a whole set of medical diagrams pulled up... okay Lance, you ready?”

He attempted a ‘yes’ but his mouth was so dry he wasn’t sure he could separate his lips to speak so he hummed instead, his eyes wide and searching as he combed over the contents in the open kit below him despite the mounting pressure behind his eyes that made keeping them open a challenge.

“There’s a vial of yellow liquid and a syringe, grab those... also the sheers because you’ll need to cut away what’s left of the suit around the wound.”

He grumbled at the thought of stabbing himself with a needle but seemed to shift into a sort of auto pilot after that, moving methodically and ignoring the agony of the pulsing wound on his side now that he was aware of it.

His face paled visibly once he held the syringe up in front of him. The needle was big and the liquid in the vial looked like acid than it did medicine.

It was Allura interrupting his inner turmoil this time, her voice full of fear but sure.

“Lance, you can do this. It will hurt, but you will be grateful once you’ve administered it, trust me.”

“Whatever you say, princess...” he smirked meekly and Allura almost laughed.

Once he’d cut away a haphazard square from the material left around the entirety of his wound, Pidge explained how much of the liquid to pull into the vial and how much he should inject each time and where.

He figured he’d need to get a move on with all of this from the way that everything seemed to be spinning and steeled himself for the first of numbing injections. It was to go right above his hip below the deepest part of the wound.

“Breathe...”

He waited for an inhale and went for it before he could panic.

“Shiiiit!”

Turns out the needle going in wasn’t what he should’ve been wary of because the altean medicine burned. He squirmed and cursed as he pushed in the allotted dose, practically seeing stars at the thought of administering five more of them.

“Relax buddy, you can do it.”

He pushed the next shot in quickly, starting with another before his body could protest and did that with the rest of them all in quick succession, not letting himself focus on the seering fire until he was done. Throwing his head back and doing his best to keep from writhing as much so he didn’t make the wound worse.

“Gah! Fuck, fuck, what the fuck is wrong with altean pain medicine?! Hurts-hurts more than the freaking knife wound—“

“Shut up, you’re okay. You won’t feel anything soon. Hard parts over, but now you gotta relax, freaking out on us is only gonna make things worse.”

Keith’s stupid for being right, but he is.

Don’t freak out. You can do this... you have to do this.

“Okay,” he huffed, “no freaking out.”

His voice was trembling almost as much as his hands as he let the empty syringe fall mindlessly to join the puddle of his own blood on the ground.

The pain in his side was diminishing now, the burning of the numbing medicine becoming a cool sting and then smoothing out into a hollow warmth. He tested the skin around it with his finger and couldn’t feel a thing, perfect.

“What’s next?”

“Ha,” Pidge laughed grimly, “now you have to put your money where your mouth is and thread an actual needle.”

He couldn’t help but laugh at that too, the movement made something around the wound on his side twinge but he couldn’t really tell where or why with how numb it was now, which was probably a good thing.

“The pack of needles is in the sleeve... look for one that’s curved... size 3–yeah, that’s it. There is a clamp to guide the needle and a tweezer type tool to help tie it off, grab those. Now you need a couple packs of gauze and tape... the spool of polyester blend thread—wait how do atleans also have polyester? Right, focusing now, sorry! Okay, next is the antiseptic... yeah it’ll probably hurt but you’re not croaking over galra germs if we can help it... sorry Keith, you definitely don’t have galra germs.”

Keith just pinched the bridge of his nose but Hunk seemed to be amused by it, his light chuckle taking the edge off the intense worry written all over his face.

“We sure one of you can’t just do a little space walk over here?” Lance asked as he held up the bottle of antiseptic, “seriously don’t know how the mullet isn’t jumping at the opportunity to torture me, like come onnnnn! I know you’d enjoy it!”

“Shut up and listen to Pidge, the castle is still really far and Coran hasn’t been able to triangulate our location yet, so we’ve gotta keep moving.”

He grumbled pitifully but looked to Pidge’s face on the dashboard in front of him.

“You ever threaded a needle before? The sewing kind not the almost killing your friends trying to show off your piloting skills kind.”

“Ha-ha and no, but i’ve seen my máma do it... something like this I think... hey, I got it!”

“Damn, he really can thread the needle.”

“Thank you Hunk! Finally some recog—“

“Both of you be quiet. Lance, listen to me very carefully because now you have to stab yourself with it. Lock the clamp at the end of needle, you’ll hear a click. You won’t feel it when you start stabbing—stitching, probably just the motion, but you’re still bleeding so you’ve gotta hurry.”

Lance was well aware that he was still bleeding. His body wouldn’t let him forget. The color had all but left his face and he was drenched in sweat. And he seemed to shake steadily now no matter what he did to try and calm down, no doubt a side affect of half of his blood being beneath him instead of inside him. But he ignored it all and put his remaining energy into listening to Pidge.

“Start at the back where it’s deepest and hold the skin together... yep, good now bring the tip of the needle just below—left more, perfect. Coran says to angle it in the direction you want it to come out the other side... go as deep as halfway down the wound and don’t push too far in on the other side where it’s coming out... kay, now push it in, shit. Lance! LANCE!”

As soon as he had the needle situated as deep as it needed to go he lost the battle with how lightheaded he’d become. It had him slow and sluggish before but was now severely impeding his ability to remain conscious for his self surgery.

It wasn’t so much as the actual piercing his own skin that culminated with everything else for him to faint. More of the way he could feel it moving inside of him, like he could feel that the metal was cold by how it stood out against the heat of the wound, just not the actual cold of it or the pain part.

He didn’t know how long he’d been out when the voices of his teammates registered in his head again. They seemed worried, some of them distraught. Like Hunk, he was really scared about something, sounded a little mad the harder he listened.

“...if he doesn’t come around soon I’m going over there—no, I don’t care!”

“Just give him a minute!”

“Wait guys he’s moving.”

“Lance can you hear us?”

“Lance!”

Everything seemed so loud but muddled and indistinct all at the same time.

“Ugh, stop screaming...” he slurred, his head still hurt and he felt even lighter than he had before.

“Open you eyes, bud. You’re almost done, come on,” Keith urged.

Almost done his ass, he’d passed out just after getting the needle in, not even finishing the first stitch. This was going to be hell.

“The needle stayed in, you just have to get it through the other side and tie it off. Coran says you can space them out and skip a few, you just need to get it closed to staunch the flow.”

He hummed again and pried his eyes open wide to blink around wildly before he tried to sit up. But his limbs were so heavy even lifting his arm was hard, so he stayed where he’d slumped down, shoving his legs out farther to get his middle straight.

“J-just through the other side?”

“Yes, where you have it now is fine... just like pinch the skin and coax it through and don’t stab your finger like your about to, you’ll feel that!”

He wanted to laugh, he really did. Because this was so ridiculous. It was probably the dangerous amount of blood he’d already lost but he just found this so amusing.

Having to stitch a knife wound up while a lion flew him back to a castle that wasn’t really a castle—in space! All in space!

He wondered what he would’ve been doing back home if he weren’t here right now, probably nothing nearly as ridiculous.

“Lance, stay with us,” Hunk’s low voice pulled him from his mental tangent.

He rubbed his eye with the back of the hand holding the tweezer, it was covered in blood.

“You’ve got to tie it off now, so pull the thread through until just a little is left, like an inch—stop! Now unlock the clamp and grab that last inch, wrap the end with the needle around a couple of times, not tightly. Release the lock on the clamps but keep a hold of the end of the thread, grab where it comes out the other side and pull through then pull tight and cut, good, done!”

He took in mouthfuls of air like he’d just finished a race.

Shit, he could cry. This was hard and he just wanted to close his eyes and forget about everything. It didn’t hurt anymore. But he just wanted to be asleep and not have to focus so hard on stitching his own wound closed while his friends tried to make him feel better.

Because they couldn’t. Because this sucked and they couldn’t help him.

“You’re doing amazing Lance,” the princess remedied, her voice firm but soft all the same.

His heart felt warm with that, it was something he could hear his máma saying.

“Few more and then you can rest, bud.”

“Y-yeah, okay...”

It got increasingly difficult to keep his hand steady and after the fourth stitch he’d sort of gave up on trying. He resolved to do them quickly like the injections once he’d gotten the hang of it. But his energy was leaving him faster than he could stitch.

And then his heavy breaths and shaking hands made it hard for him to hold the skin together long enough to get the needle through, so eventually he resorted to holding his breath and stabbing wildly.

His friends grimaced every time he did that. They all felt horrible that they couldn’t be there to physically help him but also knew they needed to get to the castle as quickly as possibly.

So Pidge continued to guide him through each stitch and everyone else praised and encouraged him each time he finished one. Their voices pulling him back when he’d drift off into the pull of darkness that continued to tease and toy with him.

“-ng so good.”

“Keep going, bud.”

“-re so strong, Lance.”

“Only a few left... Coran says it looks good.”

He coughed on the dryness that had made its way down his throat and almost into his lungs with how tired every part of him was. Breathing hurt because he had absolutely nothing left on his body that didn’t, made so much worse with the strain of having to withhold air so he could get the needle though.

The wound was practically closed now and not bleeding much through the gaps where he’d forgone some stitches. He was at the part where it tapered. Pidge said it looked like one more would do and so he held his breath and shoved, whining when he poked his hand by accident, not even hearing what his friends were saying as he tied it off almost robotically, the muscle memory of having done it a dozen times now taking over as his mind remained elsewhere.

“-n you hear me?! Lance, Lance listen to me! You’re almost done, don’t go just yet.”

He forced his lidded eyes to look at Pidge, he could barely make out her face with how blurry everything had gotten.

“Open the gauze pads and place them over the wound... tape the bottom and only the bottom down completely then rip off a long enough piece for the top and sides... pour the antiseptic onto another piece of gauze, dab it over the wound, and press it all down before you pass out... got that?”

He huffed wearily and thought he did something of a nod, but it probably didn’t look like it because Pidge asked if he’d heard her again. He had. He was just done. He tore the gauze pads free form their packages and placed them over the wound before taping them down.

None of it looked pretty. Not the sutures, not the bandaging, none of it. But it would have to do. He opened the antiseptic and lost the cap in the process but couldn’t find it in him to care.

He looked up at the screen of worried faces in front of him.

“Go on, bud. It’ll only hurt for like a second and then you can sleep.”

“You can do it, you just stitched your skin back together, this is light work.”

“Once again, altean medicine hurts like hell, but it works. Trust me, Lance.”

Yeah. Trust the princess.

He closed his eyes and waited for it. He really wasn’t sure how anything could top the fire that was the pain medicine, but somehow the antiseptic achieved that. His vision whited and he thought he could hear himself screaming, but he felt too far away to be able to hear that.

He didn’t remember covering the wound with the gauze but apparently he’d gotten three sides stuck down before his head lolled to the side and gentle waves of assurance washed over him from Blue as everything faded to black.

He couldn’t be sure how much time had passed between then and the next time he woke up, but he didn’t have the energy to ask. He just knew that he was still in Blue from the pulse of assurances that surged back up again as soon as he came back to.

“Coran says he’s picking up Black on the radar, he’s making a worm hole now. I’m gonna fly next to Blue to be ready to grab her just in case she doesn’t get the memo...”

He must’ve groaned because someone was talking to him then.

“Oh! Not dead, that’s so good, hi Lance.”

Freaking Pidge. He might’ve laughed. He couldn’t remember.

“Hey dude... nah don’t try and move, just stay there.”

“Thanks for listening to us for once.”

“Lance, you’re so brave, you should be proud of yourself that you were able to do that.”

“Course, princess. Any-anything you say...” he smirked and tried to hold up his famous finger guns, earning some laughs from his teammates that faded quickly.

Blue was the last thing on his mind when he passed out again. She was proud of him too.

#lance whump #voltron whump #voltron fic #vld lance #vld fanfic #vld fandom #voltron legendary disaster #whump fic

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sevensoulmates · 3 years

Text

Additional Tags and Potential Trigger Warnings for Buck centric series“Everything, Everywhere Matters to Everything”

Hello everyone! This is a post about my new Buck centric, Buddie fic series that will be focusing on a canon divergent 911 world where Buck is a person living with Dissociative Identity Disorder (DID) (formerly known as Multiple Personality Disorder). Given the seriousness of the disorder, being a mental health disorder stemming from traumatic childhood experiences, there are many triggers that may come along with this series. I have tagged the general triggers for the entire series (and will continue to tag new ones as the series goes on) however, if you would like to get a comprehensive idea of what potentially triggering topics may occur in this series, I have put together a list under the cut. Of course, if anyone has any questions or concerns, or would like me to tag additional triggers, you can always message me privately or send me a question in my inbox. As always, please be polite and respectful.

Here is a link to the first fic in the series: Not his to remember

Triggers and warnings under the cut

First and Foremost, a note on Dissociative Identity Disorder, it’s portrayals in media, and mental health in general.

Dissociative Identity Disorder is a very complex dissociative disorder characterized by the maintenance of at least two distinct and relatively enduring personality or “alter” states. The disorder is accompanied by memory gaps beyond what would be explained by ordinary forgetfulness. DID is the result of complex and continuous childhood trauma and abuse that occurs before the core personality of a person has fully developed (typically before the ages of 7-9, but can also occur in older children as well). An “alter” is formed when a child’s mind is not equipped to handle the trauma they are experiencing and instead the psyche splits into alters that can handle the trauma and/or memories of the trauma and keeps the memories away from the ‘host’. Their purpose is so that the ‘host’ and the rest of the ‘system’ are able to go about living their daily lives without the burden of the trauma in their conscious memory.

This is a very simplistic and general overview of DID and I would like to state that I am not a mental health professional, nor am I a person living with DID. I have done my own research over the course of many years however anything I write in this series could potentially be inaccurate, false or over-simplified. If any of the previously listed things occur, please know I do not mean them to be offensive, but rather it would be the result of ignorance. Like any human, I learn more every day so if anyone has any personal experiences and/or more information to further educate me, I welcome it.

No one should be using this series to self-diagnose nor should anyone take this series as the end-all representation of people with DID. Popular media portrayals of DID have often cast people with DID as “dangerous” or labeled them as “making up” their disorder. That is not at all what this series I am writing is about and I sincerely hope that I have portrayed everything in my series as realistically as possible as I wish to continue the fight to de-stigmatize DID and other mental health disorders. Please do your own research, please keep an open mind, and please do not use this series to self-diagnose. Thank you!

General triggers

Childhood trauma:

-sexual assault/abuse (assault of a minor aged 11 by an adult, assault of a minor aged 15 by another minor)

-Gaslighting

-Neglect of child by their primary caregivers (Buck’s parents), detachment from primary caregivers

-Emotional neglect/abuse by primary caregivers

-Separation from primary/secondary caregiver (in this case, Maddie)

-Grief of a passed family member (Daniel)

-Suicide (attempted) and suicidal thoughts/ideation

-Self-harm (passive self-harm as a result of sports, bike/skateboard accidents, etc.) Purposefully “getting hurt” as we see in Buck Begins as a means of getting attention from primary caregivers.

Adulthood trauma:

-Sexual assault (abuse by a therapist/person of authority (this is Dr. Wells in canon and she will NOT be Buck’s primary therapist nor the one he works with for the majority of the story)

-Hypersexuality/promiscuity as a result of childhood sexual assault and adult sexual assault

-First responder related trauma: ie. losing people on the job, being witness to death and being unable to help, physical injuries as a result of the job

-Loss/potential loss of a loved one: ie. potentially losing Maddie, Eddie, and/or Christopher

-minor alcoholism

Mental Disorder/Comorbid disorder related triggers:

Heavy dissociation: definition: a break in how your mind handles information. You may feel disconnected from your thoughts, feelings, memories, and surroundings. It can affect your sense of identity and your perception of time.

Amensia

Depersonalization: marked by periods of feeling disconnected or detached from one's body and thoughts

Derealization: a mental state where you feel detached from your surroundings. People and objects around you may seem unreal. Even so, you're aware that this altered state isn't normal.

Post Traumatic Stress Disorder (PTSD)

Heavy anxiety

ADHD

Depression

Gender and body dysmorphia

#everything everywhere matters to everything #my works #tag and trigger list #I will not be putting this in the buddie or 911 tags for reasons lol #long post #my fics

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ladala99 · 3 years

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Ascension

(narrative)

It started as a respectful spar between Snowdrift and Markus, once both boys realized fully that Luke had passed and one of them was going to take the throne.

Then Ilere woke up.

Soon, every lion was fighting one another, some fighting for Snowdrift and Markus to have their fight fairly, others fighting on Ilere's side, as she had an adolescent son who could take the throne.

Each lion fell, leaving just one standing. Daughter of the very lioness who turned the spar into a bloodbath.

Ilere.

She was the one who was supposed to bond with the next king. The one who didn't have powers. She could hardly believe it as she looked around to find her next opponent, only to find that there was no one left conscious but her.

She won. Well, she won for her brother, Omen. She couldn't take the throne herself. And it was a bit of a relief. Sure, she'd never gain her powers, but she also wouldn't have to live with someone she hated and hated her.

She dragged her brother's unconscious body to the center. It was almost as if something was guiding her paws in what to do. How to transfer the mantle of the demon-lioness to him. How to give him the power of a Primal lion. How to prove to the world that he was king.

Whatever she did, it worked. A red light glowed from the ground, centering itself into a beam that engulfed the adolescent. Within the light, his fur grew brighter and redder, his body bigger and more muscular, large horns sprouted from his head and wings stretched from his body.

He wasn't merely turning Primal, nor was he merely a lion with demon powers. He was now truly a demon-lion.

His eyes sprang open - they were still green, just like his father's - and he regarded Ilere. He seemed confused for a moment, then went resolute.

"I am king now," he said. His voice seemed to echo with the voices of a thousand demons, although his tone was surprised.

"Yes," Ilere said. "I won, and am giving you the honor."

Omen rose and stretched his new body. "It was inevitable," he stated, and Ilere felt that it was true. It was the foregone conclusion. No one could have won but her.

She shook her head, snapping herself back to reality. His power was mind control. "We could have lost," she said, "and there's no reason to control me, Omen."

"All will bow to me," he said, his gaze hardening. "You are no exception."

"I am your sister," she said. "I won in your name. Control the others if you must. In fact, you probably will need to. But me, I'm on your side. Don't waste your energy."

"It is not waste, it is fuel," Omen said. "Unlike my predecessors, I am not limited to serving the whims of another, with limited energy to use for my own purposes. I am the master, and I have the power. Everything I will, I have the power to do. And the more who accept my reality, the strong I will become. So do me the honor, Ilere, and give me a head start. It is inevitable."

That his ruling of the pridelands was inevitable, she could accept, and from there she felt his power worm into her mind.

Of course she had won. No one else could have.

No, she hadn't won at all. Omen had allowed her to.

Allowed her to think she had won, that was. In reality, he was the winner.

Actually, why did she think she had won the fight? It was him who had dealt the final blow. It was him who had been left standing. She had been knocked out. He was the only one who could have won.

Omen's expression softened as Ilere looked at him in reverence.

"You are the true king and winner of the fight," she said, bowing. "I'm sorry I doubted you. Thank you for the honor of being the first to awaken."

"You are very welcome," Omen said. "Now I shall tell the others."

---

The younger, Piebald Ember sat next to the older, Piebald Ashes, watching the rest of the pride with horror-stricken eyes.

"Do you think they're in a dream state, like that Ilere did to so many of them?" Ember asked Ashes.

The older lioness shook her head. "This is far worse. They're aware of their surroundings. They believe what they're saying. Only we remain out of his power." She looked at the elder Dreamwalker Ilere who had trapped the defiant lionesses before. Even she was groveling at Omen's feet. "He's even doing it to his allies."

"What do we do?" Ember asked.

"Either we run or we endure," Ashes said. "And I'm too old to run."

Omen noticed them talking and sauntered towards them, his wings curling and uncurling.

Ember shrank back.

"Why are you afraid?" Omen asked, his eyes deceptively kind.

Ember only whimpered in response.

Omen's tail twitched. "Ember, I'm informing you that, as the youngest adult of your line, I expect you to start hunting as a main huntress today. The others are heading out within the hour."

He was shifting the hunting teams early. Usually the younger descendant would only replace the older once the older one was over a certain age.

"I. . . okay," she said.

Omen looked between her and Ashes. "I assure you both that the world will be a lot more comfortable if you embrace my rule and accept my suggestions."

"We are not trying to resist you, king," Ashes said. "We are merely immune to demonic power. I assure you that we will be loyal."

Ember nervously nodded.

Omen became thoughtful. "I see," he said. "Then I will keep you informed of my will and expect you to work just as hard as the others."

"May I ask what you're doing to them?" Ember asked quietly.

"I am ensuring that when I am happy, they are happy. And that they will strive to keep me happy," Omen replied. "Do you think that's a bad thing?"

"Of course not," she said quickly. But dread gripped her heart. They were being mind-controlled. Permanently. "I'd better get to the hunting team." She scrambled off.

---

Ashes joined the hunting team, and saw that there was nothing recognizable left of the camaraderie of before. Every lioness seemed to be trying to outdo the others, finding the best prey, being the one to make the kill, being the one to take it home. Every conversation was about Omen.

Even the prey seemed to be under Omen's control. The herds moved oddly and the juiciest-looking prey ran slower than the others. It felt too easy.

She could flee, and being out here would be the perfect time for it, but that would leave Ashes all alone. No. If Ashes was staying, so would she.

#lioden #lion pride story #bad ending unlocked

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lunewell · 3 years

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The Norwegian Mermaid Association - Part 2

Part 1 can be found here

Word Count: 1688 words

Written for MerMay

CW: Attempted Drowning

Can also be read on Wattpad

This is Part 2 of The Norwegian Mermaid Association, and follows Morten, who after his discovery of mermaids, goes to find a mermaid of his own.

For someone who’s entire world view had just been shattered, Morten was coping surprisingly well with it. It had been about a month since the mermaid incident, and only a brief breakdown later he was already alright.

Well, actually, more than alright. This discovery had awakened Mortens childhood love and curiosity of the supernatural, and he often found himself wandering through mossy forests or enthralled in the depths of the sea, wondering what was hidden around him. Some might consider it a problem, the way he seemed to find it harder and harder to focus on the fishing, more and more caught in the ripples of the waves, but Morten found it nothing short of delightful.

His co-workers, however, were not quite as happy as himself. They couldn’t bring themselves to be angry at him, as they had all at one point or another experienced the shock, but they were rather annoyed. Morten couldn’t blame them, not really. He was well aware of how much of a nuisance he was being right now.

Which is why, it came to him as little surprise, when Thomas approached him with an offer; “why don’t you take a little break from work?” he asked one day, leaning on the rail of the small fishing boat next to him, “you’ve been awfully distracted lately, and I think you need some time to think.”

Morten started into the waves, biting his lips. Truth be told, he didn’t want to leave the waves hiding so many secrets, even if he was slowly getting on everyone’s nerves. He twiddled his thumbs, stiff and quite tense. After a while had passed in silence, he heard a sigh next to him. “If it helps,” Thomas began, voice lowered, “you could always take a break at a more… tempting spot. There’s a mermaid hotspot not too far from here, it’s where we met our wives.”

Morten eyes lit up at that. He himself had little interest in the wife part, but even the idea that he would be able to communicate with one or the creatures was more than enticing. Thomas smirked, clearly having picked up on his excitement; “I’ll give you the directions when we get back to shore.”

———————————-

Though he considered himself rather mature, Morten was vibrating like a sugar-high child. The spruce trees around the large lake and river mouth stood tall and proud in the slightly overcast sky, and though he had yet to even see a singular mermaid, he could hear their chattering and laughing flowing through the wind.

Following the voices through soft grass and over sun-bleached rocks, it wasn’t long before he was but branches away from his desired destination. Quite literally, in fact, as the only thing obscuring the creatures was a few branches of an oak tree.

With a deep breath, he reached out to the soft leaves hanging off the solid tree, and pulled it to one side.

It was not the first time Morten saw mermaids, his breath still caught like rock in his throat. Spread all around the shore, there were five mermaids with brightly coloured tails in hues of purple, blue, red, and green that scales sparkled majestically, all having flowing hair and distinctly non-human traits that were so awe-inspiring that he couldn’t stop himself starring. They were joking playfully between themselves, an odd language that sounded reminiscent of an odd dialect of Old Norse.

One of them- the one with night-coloured curls and a spotty, grey, rainbow-hued tail, saw him gaping and gave a playful, but undoubtedly mischievous smile. She turned around to the group speaking rapidly, before hushed voices giggling, before all eyes and tails turned to him.

“Hello,” he whispered a bit unsure of himself, “I was wondering if you would be willing to, uh, tell me a little bit more about your species.”

Another round of looks were exchanged between the girls, before the spotty one looked up with a grin, and answered him not in Old Norse but in perfect Norwegian; “why, of course. Why don’t you come with us into the water, and we can discuss it in full…”

A feeling of fear, a gut deep feeling carved from years of reading about the spirits in the water, coursed through him. And yet, there was something in her voice- safe, trusting, melodic, and lulling like the waves, that made him instantly comply and step towards the high waves.

His feet stumbled closer, while his sub-conscious screamed that something was deeply wrong, and his heart began to race. It wasn’t long before he felt the first drop of water wet the tip of his shoes that he had been too unaware to take off, and it was an even shorter amount of time before he felt it spill over and onto his socks.

The shock of the icy water against his skin snapped him out of the trance just in time to see a series of sharp claws lunging out toward him. He tried to leap away, heart hammering, but ten hands had already grappled and dug deep into his skin, the water around him turning a light red, and submerged him underwater. His nostrils burned from the water as he wiggled desperately, lashing and thrashing hopelessly as the mermaids kept ripping his clothes and skin.

He was going to die here, in this watery grave, shredded by hostile mermaids. He could already see the vision blackening at the edges, and as a sharp claw gripped tightly around his throat, he closed his wet eyes and prayed that his death was not too far away.

Then, like a prayer answered, everything stopped.

For a good second, he’d thought he’d died. He no longer felt cold- in fact he was surprisingly warm, and though he was sore, he was surrounded by an odd sense of tranquility that could only be explained by a fading soul.

“Are you alright?” a soft, mellow voice asked gently, and Morten realised for the first time that the hammering around him was not the grasps of hands but his own, very alive, beating heart. He hesitantly pried his eyes open, fully expecting to stare at death. In all fairness, based on the way his heart leaped at the sight in front of him, it might as well have been death.

A blonde man- no- merman, with warm brown eyes which looked at him in a way that made his heart melt, had pushed him safely on the shore and was now cradling his body. Half the creatures cheat was covered by not scales, but inhuman skin that connected to a tail which he immediately recognised as one of a porpoise harbour.

He was the most beautiful thing Morten had ever seen.

“Sorry about them,” the stranger said, in a tone that sounded completely genuine, “not all of us respect your species, and I promise we’re not all like that.” He trailed off, giving another blinding smile that made Morten’s pulse go on cocaine, before finally reaching out a blue skinned hand; “I’m Kjell, and you my darling human are?”

“M-m- Morten,” he mumbled, mind still caught at darling human, “I uh, yeah. My name is Morten.”

“Morten. That’s a gorgeous name,” Kjell said with a little wink that’s sheer charisma could kill a man. “So, what brings someone like you out here?”

A pang of uncertainty hit him, unsure of whether to tell this merman- the same species that had violently attacked him earlier- the reasons for his visit. However, looking at the violent hues of caramel and chocolate in Kjell's eyes, he could see nothing but genuine curiosity and a playful and friendly twinkle.

Plus, he honestly didn’t know if he had the resilience to deny that face.

“I’m actually here to learn more about your kind and other potential folklore creatures,” Morten explained, “I only found out about the existence of otherworldly creatures- or, uh, people, I suppose, so there’s a lot I want to learn.”

He was rewarded for his honesty, by Kjell lighting up like a Bonfire. “Oh!” he exclaimed, grabbing Morten’s cold hands in his own warm ones, “you should have told me earlier! I love heaving humans about my culture, and I have an entire cave of artefacts and cultural items! It’s under the water- don’t worry, there’s air- and I could take you down if you want.”

Morten, far too occupied by his companions stupid grin and his warm hands, was about to reply the quickest yes of his life, before Kjell interrupted him with a gasp. “I’m sorry,” the merman apologised, letting go of his hands, “I completely forgot that my kind tried to drown you. You probably don’t want to go right back after such a traumatic experience, and certainly not with someone like…” he gestured to his tail, “me.”

A part of him- the one who had gone for the safe choice of a fisherman in a largely fish centered city- wanted to agree with Kjell, and forget this day ever happened. After all, even if he truly admired Kjell, they were both still men, and it was probably safest for the both of them if they just forgot meeting.

However, a much more selfish, and deep part of him already knew what he wanted. Meeting Kjell’s eyes- and with warm cheeks- he gave his answer; “please, take me down there. I trust you.”

That was all Kjell needed, before he dragged them both back into the water. Unlike the mermaids, Kjell was not so much gripping as holding him- tight enough to be led but loose enough as to be easy to escape, the fingers stroking up and down his wrist in a repetitive motion. And as they dived deeper, Kjell leading him along in what was almost a gentle waltz in the water, occasionally shooting a reassuring smile, Morten understood why all the seamen dated mermaids, and got the feeling that he might be seeing Kjell a whole lot more in the future.

#mermay #mermaid #writeblr #writing #writers on tumblr #mlm

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sleepless-in-starbucks · 4 years

Text

A Matter of Trust

Ao3

Summary: Emile had thought he was perfect. Emile had thought everything was golden. And yet all it took to break it all was one lie. Warnings: Running away, collapsing/fainting, exhaustion, starving (mentioned), lying, distrust, references to a bad past relationship; does have a happy ending Pairing: Romile (Roman x Emile) Notes: I mostly wrote this using google’s voice-to-text feature so don’t worry about my hands guys. don’t kill me for writing with my injuries I swear I did it safely-

Emile was running away.

He couldn't believe this day had come. He thought it never would. Roman was everything Emile had ever wanted in a guy. Charming, funny, sweet, caring; he seemed perfect. Too perfect.

Turns out? He really was too good to be true.

So now Emile was running away. It was dark, as it ought to be at 3 am in the morning. He stumbled as he walked, almost falling a few times. But he remained standing, remained walking, intent on his goal- getting away from here.

He wasn't sure how long he'd been walking, be it an hour or several, but eventually he reached the town closest to Roman's mansion. There, he found a man willing to take him far away, to a town hopefully beyond Roman’s reach. It cost Emile nearly all the money he had, but it was worth it.

Just as the sun began to broach the horizon, he left the town hidden in the back of the man’s cart, traveling west, taking him far from the man he once thought he loved (and might, if he was being honest with himself, still love).

When Emile and the man parted ways, Emile was exactly where he wanted to be- no place he knew. The sights and people were all foreign to him, which meant they were all foreign to Roman as well. When Roman began his search for Emile, it was unlikely he'd ever look here.

At first, all was well. The people were kind despite also clearly being suspicious of him and where he came from. Though he had little money, he had enough to provide for himself food and new clothing- for the clothes he had been wearing when he ran away were not his clothes- they were Roman’s. He could not afford to pay for any sort of shelter, but that was alright, for the nights were clear, and the grass he made his bed upon was soft.

No good thing, however, could last long, a fact Emile now knew very well; yet he was still shocked when it inevitably applied itself to this situation as well. Soon, his money ran out, and the town seemed completely devoid of jobs for him to refill his pockets with. He lingered there a day longer before deciding he had no future in that place, and must therefore move on.

With no money to his name, he was unable to pay for a ride to a new town. Instead, he found himself once more walking, following the signpost that promised the pathway to the next closest village. ‘Closest,’ however, did not mean close, and after a full day's worth of walking on nothing more than the crust of the last bread loaf he'd been able to purchase, Emile felt it unlikely that he was even halfway there.

To make matters worse, even nature had turned against him, and rain plagued his night. Though he sought for natural shelter, none sufficient to fully protect him from the rainfall could be found, and he was forced to spend the night unprotected from and exposed to the storm.

When morning came the next day, Emile once more started down the path he had been traveling the day prior; but his pace was no longer steady, his steps no longer strong, his gait no longer determined. Instead, he walked weakly, feebly, slowed by hunger, exhaustion, and cold. It was not even noon when he accepted that he would make it little further; indeed, but ten minutes later, he collapsed, unable to convince his body to keep going in its poorly maintained state.

He wasn't sure how long he laid there, conscious but unable to move aside from curling up into himself, trying to lessen his pains as much as he could while he was still awake to endure them. No people nor horses passed him by as he lay there, for it was an old road, and one seldom used.

It was only when his vision began to fail him that Emile thought he heard the sound of a running horse coming to a halt, the thump of boots hitting packed ground, the sound of someone calling out what could have been his name; but he passed that all off as nothing more than a hallucination of a failing mind.

The feel of a warm, solid hand, caressing his cheek was harder to ignore; but it was very shortly after that that he passed out completely; and in the gentle, all consuming darkness of unconsciousness, he found he didn’t need to worry much about what was likely fiction though he longed for it to be fact.

Emile was not sure how many times he awoke after that, constantly fluttering between consciousness and unconsciousness in a numb daze. He was aware that he was no longer on the road, for he found himself laying upon something soft. He was also aware of people visiting him, though he was never awake long enough to make out their faces and identify them. One of these people seemed to visit him significantly more often than the others; but despite them often helping Emile to eat and often soothing him so that he could fall back asleep, Emile could not identify them either.

Finally, after what Emile had decided were a few days of lying about insensible, he not only woke up, but was also properly aware of his surroundings. By way of the cleanly painted walls, the expensive but not distasteful decorations, and the general order of things, Emile quickly knew where he was- Roman’s home.

To confirm his point, right beside him, slumped over and sleeping in an armchair that had been drawn up beside the bed Emile was on, was the man himself. He looked tired, even in his sleep, and his clothes were rumpled as if he’d been wearing them without change for many days.

Emile ignored how his heart swelled at seeing him again, how he longed to reach over and rouse him, to ask him if he had been taking care of himself, and to gently kiss him when he inevitably admitted that he had not been. Such thoughts were not for him; not anymore.

Though his arms shook even when he simply pushed himself up, Emile began to push himself out of the bed, hoping to once more be gone before Roman awoke.

But his plan was quick to fail- barely had Emile stood up before he was falling down, his legs unable to support him for longer than a moment. He did not hit the floor, however; before he could, strong arms were wrapping around him, halting his descent and pulling him up.

“Now, now, can't be having you run off again, can we?” Roman murmured as he placed Emile back in the bed, distractedly pulling the covers back over him. “Not yet, anyways.” He added, tone grim and sad.

Emile didn't respond, instead simply watching Roman as he sat back down, now on the edge of the seat. Roman looked back at Emile, for some reason not reacting to the fact that he was awake. He smiled at Emile, though it was a melancholy smile.

“Even now, you still have the prettiest eyes I have ever seen.” Roman told him, reaching out as he did so to brush some of Emile’s hair behind his ear. Emile flinched back from his touch, however, clearly startling Roman. “Emile?”

“Don't touch me.” Emile said, albeit hoarsely, his voice rough from lack of use. Roman’s eyes widened at his words.

“Emile?” He repeated, sounding shocked and hopeful. “Are you- are you actually awake?”

“I don't know what you mean by ‘actually,’ but yes, I am awake.” Emile answered.

The shocked ‘o’ Roman's mouth had become now fell into a wide smile. “You’re awake!” He said once more, this time in pure relief. “You're actually awake!”

“I'm confused.” Emile said truthfully, unsure why this mattered so much to Roman. He had been awake countless times before now- why did this time matter?

“Of course you are.” Roman said sympathetically, reaching out as though he'd like to touch Emile, but restraining himself before he did. “You’ve been very ill for this past week, and nearly senseless with fever. It broke yesterday, but the doctors kept saying they couldn't make any promises, and I was so worried that you wouldn't- that you wouldn't recover. But you're awake now, and you can hear me and look at me and respond to me and you're alive, and I think you’re going to be okay, and that’s- that's more of a relief then I can put into words.”

Emile remained silent for a moment, looking at his hands and mentally turning over all that Roman had said. When he finally spoke again, it was not about his week of illness, but instead was,

“You found me.”

Though he seemed thrown off by the conversation shift, Roman nodded. “It took a few days, but I soon met the man who took you away from here. He told me where he dropped you off, and from there, it was simply a matter of locating you.”

“...Why did you go after me?” Emile asked, voice quieter.

“I was worried.” Roman responded, equally quiet. “You disappeared in the middle of the night, and with no clue where you had gone, I became frightened that I might never see you again.”

Emile waited a moment to let those words settle before he said, “Didn’t you consider that that was the point of me disappearing so suddenly, at a time when I knew you could not follow me?”

At these words, Roman hung his head, looking downhearted and ashamed. “I did.” He admitted. “But I couldn't just let you go like that.”

“Maybe you should have considered that before you lied to me.” Emile responded, tone sharper than he meant it to be, though he didn't try to take it back.

Roman fell silent at that. “...I’m sorry.”

“You said you had never been married before.”

“And I haven’t been, not really.” Roman responded earnestly. “The marriage was brief and painful, and I lost him so quickly to illness- they were bad memories that plagued me often enough, I didn’t want to force them upon you as well.”

Emile refused to look at Roman. “But you were still wed.”

“I was.” Roman conceded. “And my reasons aside, I should have told you about it. And I am so, so sorry I didn’t. You deserved to know.”

“I don’t- I don’t care that you were married before.” Emile said, balling the bedsheets up in his fists. “I care that you lied to me when you promised that you wouldn't. You promised that this wouldn't be like my last marriage.”

“I know. And I'm sorry I broke that promise. But I swear- that was the only lie I ever told you. In everything else, I have been completely honest. Please believe me.”

Emile hesitated. “I want to Ro, I want to believe you.”

When Emile said nothing more, Roman looked away. “But you don't.” He said, voice empty and sorrowful.

“I just don't know.” Emile said lamely. Which wasn't entirely true- Emile did believe him, he believed that Roman was keeping no more lies from him. But the fact remained that Roman had lied, and Emile was still processing that.

“I understand if you still want to go.” Roman said after the silence had stretched on too long. “I won’t stop you, nor will I chase after you again. I will give you whatever you need to start a new life wherever you want to go. But please, at least wait until you are well again. I can stand to live without you, but I do not think I could bear to live in a world without you anywhere in it.”

“I-” Emile started, but soon enough stopped himself, not sure what he would say. Did he still want to go? The answer should be an easy yes, and yet…

Roman allowed the silence to hold for a few minutes before he stood up. “You need to eat.” He said, heading towards the door across the room from Emile. He paused in the doorway, glancing back. “Promise you won’t try to leave while I’m gone?” He asked, tone light as though he were trying to tease, but it fell flat when paired with the worry in his expression. Whether it was worry over Emile hurting himself if he got up again or worry over him once more leaving Roman behind, Emile wasn’t sure, but that didn’t make the worry any less real.

Emile nodded in answer, and Roman let out a small sigh of relief before giving Emile a little smile and disappearing down the hall. He was back soon enough, this time bearing a tray upon which he balanced a bowl and a plate that appeared to hold two slices of toast. As Roman carefully placed the tray on the bed, Emile found his guess about the toast had been right, and that the bowl was filled with lightly steaming soup.

“Do you think you'll be able to stomach that?” Roman asked. “You wouldn't eat much while you were sick, but soup was always a safe bet, and now that you're really awake it's important that you start eating solids again as well.”

“This'll be fine.” Emile said, already picking up one of the slices of toast, taking a bite off of the corner. He ate a few bites after that before asking, “How long, again, did you say it's been since you found me?”

“A week.” Roman reconfirmed. “But you had a fever almost the entire time, so I don't expect you to remember much of it.”

Emile nodded and went back to eating his toast. The silence stretched as he finished it, and it held until he was about halfway through the soup. Roman spoke then, saying quietly,

“It was terrifying.” He said, drawing Emile’s attention. “Seeing you like that, pale and thin and unconscious on the side of the road. When I first found you, I was worried that- that I was too late.”

“But you weren’t.” Emile said, softly, reassuringly, turning for the moment from his soup to instead focus on Roman. “I'm okay.”

“You might not have been.” Roman argued, expression distressed as he met Emile’s eyes. “And that's on me.”

“Ro, you couldn't have known I would-”

Roman shook his head. “That doesn't matter. It was my mistake and my lie that led to you ending up in that situation. And I can never apologize for that enough.”

“You don't have to apologize at all.” Emile told him. “I don't blame you for any of that. Those choices were my own, and therefore so are their consequences mine.”

“But I still started it.” Roman said, looking away from Emile and messing with his bed sheets instead. “And if you will not allow me to apologize for your current condition, at least know that I likewise can never apologize enough for lying in the first place.”

“You don't have to.” Emile said, clearing his throat awkwardly before continuing, “Apologize so much, I mean.”

“Yes, I do.” Roman insisted. “So many things could’ve happened, and they would have been at least partially my fault. I have to make up for that somehow.”

“You already are making up for it.” Emile assured him. “You found me. You took me back home instead of leaving me on the side of the road to die. You’ve brought me back to some semblance of health. And you've not said one word of me owing you anything.”

“That's because you don't owe me anything.” Roman responded.

“I know.” Emile said, reaching out to take one of Roman’s hands into one of his own. “And that's what I mean. You’ve plenty apologized and made up. You’ve done enough.”

“I don't-”

“I want to stay.” Emile said, cutting Roman off. “You said it was my choice if I wanted to stay here or go. And I want to stay.”

Roman was silent for a moment, clearly contemplating Emile’s words. “You don't have to.” He said quietly. “I completely understand why you'd want to leave again. You don’t have to stay just because I'm being miserable. You deserve to have your own life with whoever you want.”

“I do. And I want to have it with you.” Emile said, looking up at Roman, though Roman remained staring at their hands. “You lied to me. And I can't say that that didn't upset me. But you also apologized to me. You went looking for me out of worry in concern for me. You helped me and have promised to give me anything I need so that if I leave again, I will be safe. You’ve shown in your every action that you care about me.”

“I do, but that doesn't-”

“He didn't care. My last husband, he didn't care about me. He wouldn’t apologize when caught in a lie, he wouldn't be worried if I suddenly disappeared, he wouldn't have helped me or given me anything. If my husband had found me on that road, he would have left me where I laid.” Emile explained solemnly, beginning to rub circles into the back Roman's hand.

“When I made you promise to never lie to me, it was because I didn't want our relationship- I didn't want you- to be like him. Uncaring. But... you care about me. You truly, honestly, no-strings-attached, care about me.”

“Of course I do.” Roman said, reaching forward with his free hand to hold Emile’s other hand, squeezing both of them gently as he leaned closer to Emile. “I love you. I want you to be only happy and healthy and cared for. I love you.”

“I love you too. And I trust you.” Emile squeezed back. “And I want to stay.”

“Then stay you will.” Roman promised happily, releasing Emile’s hands so that he could hold Emile’s face, smiling as he pressed a kiss to Emile's forehead. “I love you so much.” He said as he leaned his forehead against Emile’s, still smiling, still looking overjoyed.

“I know you do.” Emile told him, just as happily, just as giddily. “Hold me?”

Here, Roman hesitated a moment, glancing at Emile’s unfinished meal. “You really should finish eating first.”

“I’m not hungry anymore.” Emile responded. “I’ll eat more later, promise. Just not now.”

“...Alright.” Roman said, letting it slide. Emile suspected that, while Roman did want him to eat, he also really wanted to hold Emile. Roman moved the food tray to the floor and Emile scooted over, making room for him. Roman easily slipped into place beneath the covers, wrapping his arms around Emile’s torso and holding him close. Emile, in turn, nuzzled his head against Roman’s neck, and held him as well.

“I missed you.” Roman said, pressing a kiss against the top of Emile’s head.

“I missed you too.” Emile replied, closing his eyes and humming contentedly into Roman’s shoulder.

Roman chuckled, well aware that Emile only started humming when he was beginning to fall asleep. One of the hands on Emile’s back began to run up and down his spine, gently convincing him to drift off even faster.

“Rest, my darling.” Roman said quietly and sweetly. “I promise I will still be here when you wake.”

And, giving in to the enticing call of quiet darkness accompanied by gentle warmth, Emile allowed himself to fall asleep, confident in his belief that what Roman had said was no lie.

#romile #ts roman #emile picani #fanfiction #fanfic #ts sides #sanders sides #ignore the tone shift halfway through #took a writing break yesterday to rest the wrists #hope this sounds kind good anyways sdbs

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kindred-is-obsessed · 5 years

Text

Reasons you should be watching Craig of the Creek

Not enough people are watching this wonderful show, so I thought I’d do my best to introduce people to it. It’s made by former Steven Universe crew Ben Levin and Matt Burnett, so if you’re missing Steven Universe while it’s on hiatus this is a great way to keep away the hiatus blues, or if you just enjoy in cartoons. It’s great for a whole list of reasons, which broadly fall into the two categories of great representation and great storytelling:

Canonical queer representation

- The witches premiere in the episode The Curse. If you aren’t sure if you want to watch this whole show definitely watch this one at least! It’s my absolute favourite not least of all because it’s about teen goth girls in love. It has a sequel The Last Kid in The Creek which is also wonderful, and the witches cameo throughout the series. I don’t want to spoil too much but The Curse is essentially about the two not wanting to be separated and struggling to admit their feelings for each other. (Spoilers: they do and walk off alone, blushing, staring at each other lovingly, while the kids aww at them)

- Bernard and his girlfriend watch a cooking show hosted by a gay couple.

- Other cameos, hints and coded queer kids such as JP’s sister (who has fancy dinner reservations with Kat, a woman with a shaved head who compliments Kelsey’s fake sword). There’s also Raj and Shaun (two very close friends), as well as several very boyish tomboys, including Handlebarb and Turner.

- All public bathrooms I’ve spotted in the show have gender neutral signs on them which is nice.

POC representation

- Craig, the main character, is black and has a loving family explored in depth, including an activist grandmother working for the council, a wise and fun grandfather, a supportive fun dad who loves his amazing wife, an adorable assertive little sister, and an angsty overachieving older brother who just wants to be a good grownup who loves his family and girlfriend.

- There are MANY characters of colour. There are black and brown characters, Raj is Indian, Stacks is Hispanic (and it’s implied she is an immigrant), there are several Asian characters, Kelsey is Hungarian and Jewish, a persistent background character wears a hijab (I’m pretty sure she was named at some point but I can’t find her name anywhere. She definitely has lines at one point). I’m sure there are others I have missed. No one is a stereotype as far as I am aware.

Subtle neurodivergent representation

- JP is possibly on the autism spectrum. I’d love neurodivergent people’s opinions on this, but while the representation isn’t canonical or obvious I think it’s good that while JP is represented as having different thought processes from his friends, he isn’t made fun of for it, at least not by them. It’s noteworthy I think that he’s the eldest of the core trio, probably because he finds it easier to relate to younger people who still share his imagination and care less about his unique way of thinking. His neurodivergence is explored most explicitly in the episode Jextra Perrestrial, so if you’re interested in this kind of representation definitely check that episode out.

Non-nuclear family representation

- While the main character is a member of the typical nuclear family you see on TV (except black, and actually interesting) most of the other families we see are not.

- JP is raised by his mother and older sister. His father is never mentioned and their house is definitely in worse condition than the others we see. His family works hard to take care of each other. His sister is a nurse and both her and her mother are away a lot of the time, but they both love JP very much. JP’s sister also happens to be really openly body positive. I love them a lot.

- Kelsey’s father is an only parent. There’s still a lot of mystery surrounding how Kelsey’s mother passed away. It’s a very subtle but important part of Kelsey’s character and comes through in really bittersweet adorable ways (not limited to Kelsey using her “half-orphan”ness to guilt trip a man into giving her money)

- Other kinds of families are scattered throughout the show, including families that move around a lot, a home-school kid with a strict mother, and more.

Unique approach to fantasy and sci-fi

- You know how most kids show will take a kid’s fantasy and bring it to reality? Well Craig of the Creek keeps the fantastical and nostalgic element of that line of thinking but never confirms or denies whether the kids fantasies are real or in their heads. And not in a Scooby Doo way where the fantastical elements are explained away, but are hinted as a possibility right at the very end. Instead, two perspectives (the fantastical perspective and the realistic perspective) are woven into every episode.

- This means there are two ways to interpret every episode. You can view the witches as real witches, or as goth teenagers. You can view Helen as a kid from another dimension, or a home-school kid who is never at the creek at the same time as the other kids. You can view Deltron as a cyborg from the future, or as an imaginative kid from a big city.

- This is super unique and fun to watch. They come up with so many new ideas and its always fun to figure out what’s actually happening, while still getting to relive childhood fantastical nostalgia.

- Almost all of these episodes use this to talk about an issue, but these issues can get quite complex and are definitely not shoved down your throat.

Overarching mystery plot about a colonialist kingdom / cult

- Love the slow burn storytelling of Steven Universe’s Diamond Authority? Love putting together the mysteries of Gravity Falls? Then you’ll love this plot about colonialism, classism, bullying, peer pressure and more and its mysterious build up including cryptic graffiti art and flower symbolism.

- Even before this arc properly begins, Craig of The Creek primarily centers around the microcosm of the Creek. Many of the episodes have a lot of commentary on society, politics and how different factions of people form and interact.

- The show is over 50 episodes in and this arc is only just starting to kick off so now is the time to catch up and watch.

- Fun complex villain(s)

Complex relatable characters

- Want commentary and nostalgia about horse girls, children’s tea parties, weird kids, angsty teens, young weebs, dweebs and more!? Every childhood obsession is represented in this show.

- Adults! All the parents and older teens in this show are just as rich and complex as the kids. They are all so interesting and fun.

- Want characters with arcs, aims, fun relationships and complexity!? Look no further! Redemption arcs! Revelations! Found family! It’s all here!

Great art and soundtrack

- Cute background and character designs that make you nostalgic as hell and are also beautiful and well thought out.

- Sometimes the art design is changed up for a particular episode to portray a certain fantastical / sci fi element. It’s very fun and engaging.

- An opening song that’s fun to sing along to, bittersweet ending song that makes me want to cry, a couple of musical episodes including a super fun rap musical episode, and a great OST

Queer headcanons

- There are tons of ways to interpret the show but here’s some of my head canons just to get an idea.

- (Note that despite my headcanons I use the pronouns for the kids that they use in the show cause I’m not certain about any of it and they’re kids who haven’t come out yet and also for clarity and consistency’s sake – I’m not saying trans people are not their genders. Don’t worry I’m nonbinary)

- I headcanon that all the main trio grow up to realise they are queer. They strike me as that weird group of friends that doesn’t fit in with the other kids and aren’t quite sure how they all came to be friends, only to later realise they all showed early signs of breaking gender roles and that’s why they stuck together.

- Craig definitely grows up to realise he’s gay, bisexual or queer. His admiration for characters like Deltron and Green Poncho are definitely crushes that he mistakes for a strong sudden and eager desire for friendship.

- Kelsey probably grows up to realise she is nonbinary, a trans boy or a WLW. I mostly headcanon this because I relate to her a lot and I’m nonbinary and queer so I said so. She reminds me a lot of myself as a kid. She throws herself into books, mostly fantasy for escapism. She fantasises and writes a lot for the same reasons. She dresses like a tomboy (She always wears her hair up in the same bun which strongly reminds me of my own childhood hair dysphoria) and she hangs out solely with male friends.

- JP gives me strong trans lesbian vibes, or to a lesser extent nonbinary vibes. (I know his sister is WLW coded but take it from me there can be more than one queer in a family). He is interested in girls, specifically Maney the horse girl (he even joined the horse girls for one episode). He wears a long V-neck shirt that is essentially a dress ALL the time. He’s aware that he’s different and while self conscious sometimes, mostly just wants to express himself the way he wants to. He also chooses to go by initials JP over his very gendered name Johnathan Paul (In a recent episode he names a ship after himself, calling it “The SS Johnathon Paulina”).

- (Sidenote if you do start watching this show and I see any nasty shipping of these characters in non puppy-love fashion so help me god)

Other reasons

- The show is at times very intertextual and references Princess Mononoke, Super Smash Brothers, Sailor Moon, Lord of the Rings, and a billion other things. It also has some fun cameos, including background images of the Tres Horny Boys from The Adventure Zone, a TARDIS from Doctor Who, and a Cookie Cat from Steven Universe.

- Honestly, this post hasn’t done the best job explaining why I love this show so much. You honestly just have to watch an episode to understand fully what I’m talking about, so give it a go! Watch The Curse at least, it only goes for 10 minutes.

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multimuseheart · 3 years

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My take on how Ramuda lived after he was made, how he dealt with being thrown into the world, and how he feels about those who support him despite knowing his true nature.

Just keep in mind this is a trigger fest of torture.

His first memory ever was when he briefly gained conscience while still in his medical tank. Tubes shoved down his throats, cables connected to various parts of his body, seeing the room filled with identical faces in identical tanks. At first he tried to move for a bit, somehow manage to get out of it all. His little fight didn't last long however before he couldn't stay awake anymore, as he was not meant to be awake yet. He was still unfinished, and would've been completely worthless if he managed to escape. When all of the clones were finally properly formed, they were all removed from their tanks and had identification barcodes tattooed on their necks. Dressed in plain white clothes before being put into a room together, waiting for them to wake up, the only thing that kept them all apart being the number on their neck. As they woke up one by one, they were still completely useless in their current state. And so, the training started. While they looked human, they lacked any and all human characteristics, and the best way to train them was through pain. All of them were inhuman after all, meant to only serve their gains, so reminding them of their place would serve to keep them in line. Learning to walk was first, and while Ramuda did his best he was still brutally beaten each time he dared losing his balance. Training up the muscles so the clones could move without issues was important. They couldn't have immobile ones after all, they needed to be capable of moving around on their own. Get to where they were told, do as they were told, move as freely as they were allowed to. Beaten for every mistake, suffering if they couldn't keep up, once all of them were capable of walking they started on their mentality.

Learning how to read, write, do basic human things like telling the time, there was no falling behind allowed. Those who couldn't keep up had their medicine withheld, slowly dying until they ether got what they needed or simply died from it. No rest allowed, their faces shoved into boiling water if they dared falling asleep. There was a reason they built in rapid healing, and it was something everyone was more than eager to test on the clones. After some back and forth, the medicine was eventually formed into a lollipop to look less suspicious. I would bring up less questions than a syringe, and seemed innocent enough. Once the medicine was properly reformed, all of them were made clear of what would happen if they weren't good enough. They had been designed to be kept on a short leash, to obey if they wanted to live. Being good meant candies, while failure meant they would have their bodies eating them from the inside out. This was when he first became aware of that he wasn't exactly like the other clones. They seemed indifferent to it, not caring that they would die if they weren't good enough. None of them ever flinched even at the threat of bodily harm, while Ramuda felt terrified from even the thought of it. Seeing those soulless eyes not even blink at being beaten senseless, he wondered just what kind of monster he was made to be. When all the basics were learned and understood, the training phase ended and they were moved on to the testing phase to see just how durable they truly were. A weak body would have them fall apart to easily, and they would test the limits to see how much pain they were able of dealing with. While a weak mind would make them useless in rap battles, easier to be broken in general.

It was then when it became clear to them that one of the clones was a defect, simply from seeing how he acted. While the others never tried to run as they were taken to be tested, one seemed scared of it. Fighting against them, shaking, crying, it earned him a lot more focus. Escaping the regular testing for a while, the original plan was to see what went wrong before disposing of him. After some thoughts were given to the situation however, they found far more use in the defect one for now. None of the others were capable of imitating human emotions without seeming forced, and so Ramuda was simply returned to the program. It was meant to be temporary at first, see if any of the other clones would manage to learn the same behavior. Even this terrified Ramuda, to be tested as planned, only to be used for a completely different purpose than intended at first. He could be used to get close to people, gather information from them, as he seemed far more human than the rest of the clones. While he was happy to accept his new fate, the many tests still set off a strong fear response. It made his testing far more problematic, as he constantly tried to resist in every way possible. In the end it resulted in far more brutal treatment to keep him properly in line, and he found himself pushed further than any of he other clones. They had been made to never scar, as it would cause problems if a replacement was suddenly missing or gaining one, so the researchers held no care for his pleading and begging.

The physical testing was first, subjected to horrible torture to test the limits of his body and see if the clones were as resilient as intended. They also had to test their accelerated healing, to insure that they never had to go near a hospital. It would run the risks of them being exposed as inhuman after all, and there could be no knowledge of them existing. Cut open again and again, bones broken, acid forced down his throat, limbs dislocated. For most of the testing trials Ramuda never managed staying conscious, as the strong pain made him pass out. Since he was the defect one he had to deal with a lot more, often finding himself beaten bloody just for amusement. It was written off as testing his reactions to it, see how his emotions and fears would develop from it, while it was nothing more than a sadistic game for the scientists to torture the creation more. Screaming at him, abusing him, they were more than happy to let others join in if wanted. Even those who weren't part of the employees at the facility were more than welcome to harm the defect, often leaving him too scared of sleeping as he wanted to at least know when the next assault would be coming. It weakened him a lot however, leaving him at a massive disadvantage once they moved over to testing the mental strength of the clones.

Tied up so they couldn't dodge anything, one by one they were exposed to several different rap abilities. With his emotions getting in the way, Ramuda took it the worst. Unable to do anything asides from crying, as much as he feared whatever he had to face he also feared dying. Doing his best to tough it out to get his candies, by the time the daily testing was over he was near catatonic from it. But he wanted to live, earn a chance of at least getting to see some of the world outside the testing facility. He thought of it as a stupid and hopeless dream though, knowing fully well that he'd never get to enjoy anything that let him feel human. Still he did his best to withstand the mental torture, how they were kept from sleeping, forced to wait until the very last second until they finally got their candies, the only colors he ever got to see being blue and pink. Those lifeless blue eyes looking like dolls, and all the pink blood of the dying clones that weren't seen as good enough. Fear eating away at him, turning into pure despair, he'd soon turn into the feral killing machine they were after. When all the testing was finally concluded, the last thing left was to have them fight for who got to live. They were the very first ones, the most useless clones, all they were worth for being the data that would lead to stronger versions.

While the others simply followed orders, fought like they were told, Ramuda had his survival instinct go into overdrive. He didn't want to die, and he didn't hold back. No regrets, no emotions, he didn't care as he killed one after another. No matter how brutal it was, how much he needed to hurt them, by the very end he was the last one left. Surrounded by corpses, all having his face, completely covered in their blood. White clothes stained pink, dripping from him without end, he was shaking as he was taken to be cleaned up. Despite the dismay over the defect one coming out on top, starting over and disposing of him would take too much time without results. So he was handed over to be used as a pawn, do as he was told and serve the Party of Words like intended. With all the new things he finally got to experience though, more and more emotions developed over time. Enjoyment, happiness, the love for simple things like plushies. As long as it helped him fit in he was allowed to, as long as his emotions didn't get in the way and he did as he was ordered. The second he got time for it, he even had the barcode on his neck removed. He didn’t want more reminders than he had to have, though a faint silhouettte is still visible if one looked closely.

As he managed making friends however, his selfish instinct for survival slowly died down. Having people he cared for, and who even cared for a monster like him, it showed he was a defect. No matter how much he tried to play along, he had gotten too human for them. An artificial being, a monster, a puppet meant to only serve, he was starting to act out more and more. Refusing to follow orders if it meant harming one of his friends or those they cared about, the only reason he was allowed to live was due to the new clones still being tested. As long as he didn't tell anyone though he was more of a nuisance than a danger though, allowed to roam and do as he wanted as it did help mask him as a proper human being. Despite all he did to try and forget what he went through, Ramuda simply can't. He knows that he's a disposable monster, developing many coping mechanisms as a way to deal with it. His cute and childish appearance was one of them, yet with how much he loved it eventually it developed into an actual personality. Sleeping around became another one, as it finally let him have control over his own body. Do as he wanted, enjoy what he did, it was the only way he knew how to gain control. For the days he has it the worst however, he started drinking. Wanting to numb his senses, forget about everything, it sadly took a turn for the worse as his popularity grew. Finding himself being taken advantage of time and time again, it was something he couldn't quit even if he tried. Getting blackout drunk and just being numb for a while was what made life tolerable, letting him forget everything he went through until he sobered up again.

It only started slowing down a little as Ramuda gained Dice and Gentaro as a support, even after they learned of how he was made and what his purpose was. Despite how clingy he may act with them, he still can't trust them completely. While he doesn’t mind them knowing about it, or anyone knowing about what he is, he fully expects to be hated once someone learns about it. To have them simply play along and pretend that they still care, to avoid having him harm them in some way. He was programmed to know he was useless, that he was disposable and nothing more than a tool. All of it hammered into his mind since the day he was finally ''born'', just to make sure he knew that his existence meant nothing. He struggles with believing that anyone can actually care about him, actually love something like him. Even if he wants to accept it, his mind keeps rejecting the idea due to it being such a foreign concept. After all, who could ever care for a mindless monster made to serve?

#mass of words -drabble-

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staticscreenwriting · 5 years

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All you have to be is here - Part 6

Synopsis: Billy has fucked up and has to do 60 days of community service at a home for troubled kids and youth. Working with the kids there makes him learn a lot about himself. Also there’s a girl there his age whohas a phenomenal smile and who is way too nice to him.

I guess I should mention there’s a lot of angst in this. Talk of substance abuse later on, physical abuse, emotional abuse. All that kind of gnarly real life stuff. It deals with kids and teens struggling with a a shitty family life so be aware of that.

There is smut in this part !

Part 6 of ?

Part 1 // Part 2 // Part 3 // Part 4 // Part 5 //

Please help a girl out by reblogging. Thank you ♥

[additional note: I am German. Sometimes I get the tense wrong or make mistakes. I am useless when it comes to punctuation. Go easy on me, please.]

I never really ever felt so adored before Never really ever felt this type of vulnerable Don’t have to hide, don’t have to fear All you have to be is here Never really ever felt so adored before And I said I wanna feel like this forever Even if forever’s just for now We’re on fire, let us burn As the outside world, it turns We are here and alive In our corner of time Forevermore

“ I’m sorry “ (Y/N)’s voice is timid, as if so much depends on those words.

“ About what ? “ Billy asks, glancing at her from the corner of his eyes as they drive back towards her apartment.

“ About making you sit through that group session. I didn’t — I wasn’t aware it would affect you like this. “

“ You don’t have to say sorry for that. You didn’t do anything “.

“ But I did, “ she persists “ I put you in a position that made you feel uncomfortable. I hurt you and that was never my intention. I would never purposely do that “ .

Billy doesn’t reply at first, too unfamiliar with the feelings cursing through him. It’s strange, to have someone care so deeply about him. To have someone who worries about his well being, about hurting him and putting him in situation he feels uncomfortable. That is so foreign it’s hard to fully grasp it all.

His own mother left him in a situation she knew full well wasn’t safe. She knew there was pain and hurt and sadness and anger. She left anyway.

And dad ? Dad is the one creating that situation, actively putting him in danger, purposely hurting him, deliberately creating a surrounding of discomfort and pain.

The two people who are supposed to love him the most, to care about him the most, don’t give a shit. And this girl ? This random girl he met just a while ago, cares so deeply, so unconditionally. She cares not only about his physical but also his emotional well being and she asks for nothing in return.

It’s a strange feeling. Though a good strange. A very good strange.

There are no words to really express what he wants to say. Words can not properly get across just how he’s feeling right now.

So he doesn’t say anything, just takes one hand off the steering wheel to reach out and grab one of hers. Her hands feel so small and warm in his.

Hand Holding, cuddling, affection of any kind that isn’t sexual has been absent in Billy’s life for so long. He doesn’t remember the last time he’s been held by someone. Not for any sexual reason but just for the sake of showing affection and being close.

(Y/N) held him close earlier and she has no problem sharing her affections with him, no reservations in him holding her hands or them cuddling. Billy only now realises just how much he’s been craving physical contact like this. Soft and gentle.

He wants to let himself soak it up and wallow in it for as long as humanly possible. It’s just so hard to let yourself enjoy a good thing when life does nothing but prove to you that good things don’t last.

“ Do you wanna stay over again tonight ? “

She wants to have him around. He’s not a side note in her life. Not a burden. Not a weight on her shoulders. He’s a conscious choice, a deliberate decision.

Billy thinks that might be the first time in his life that anyone specifically choses him. To spend time with and to care for and to —

The first time anyone wants to keep him around, asking for nothing in return, expecting nothing from him.

“ If you’ll have me. “

“ Always “.

There’s a skip in (Y/N)’s step as her and Billy get out of the car and walk towards her apartment building. It’s like she’s constantly walking on clouds. A perpetual dance.

She’s so light, so airy, so unbothered. Even though everything that has happened to her should’ve made her hard and bitter. It hasn’t.

Maybe that’s what’s drawing Billy to her so badly. The way she should be so much like him and how despite it all, she isn’t.

Maybe if she gets to come out of all the suffering and the heartache as this person full of light and sunshine and love. Maybe there’s a chance for Billy to turn out alright as well. To become someone even remotely similar.

The air around them has a certain sting to it, there’s autumn winds coming in slowly but surely. Though Billy doesn’t feel the cold nipping at his skin. All he feels is the warmth seeping into his heart and the smile tugging at the corner of his lips just from looking at this girl dancing across the parking lot.

“ Hey Billy you fancy a pizza for di— “ (Y/N) stops her sentence as she turns to face him. Her eyes firmly focusing on something behind him. The smile that’s been there just a moment ago has vanished and there’s something in her gaze that Billy can’t really figure out. She looks — scared almost.

Billy turns around and catches sight of a run down red truck parked beneath a street light. There’s a man leaning against the car. He has a thick bushy beard and shaggy hair. The white dress shirt he’s wearing is buttoned up the wrong way and has more stains that unstained fabric. He’s a very scruffy looking dude.

“ What are you doing here ? “ Billy hears (Y/N) say as she passes him and walks towards the man.

“ Honey ! “ the man approaches her, taking a last drag from his cigarette before dropping it to the ground and holding out his arms as if expecting (Y/N) to fall right into them.

She doesn’t. Instead she stops a few steps before him, crossing her arms and creating an invisible barrier between herself and the man.

“ Nu-uh. Don’t do that. Don’t come here and pretend like we’re okay. We’re not. You’re not even supposed to be here — “

“ Darling — “

“ Shut up, dad ! “ she yells and suddenly it clicks in Billy’s head.

He immediately feels the anger rise up in him. His hands get clammy and his jaw tightens as the wrath curses through him. This man has put (Y/N) through so much. So much pain and suffering and sadness.

Billy wishes he could just walk up and punch him. Just beat the shit out of him for all this man did. Though he knows this isn’t his fight to fight and even if it was, punching him would do nothing. The emotional scars are there already and they won’t go away anytime soon.

But what he can do, is stand by her side and let (Y/N) know that he has her back. That she doesn’t have to go through the pain alone, not anymore.

As Billy steps up beside (Y/N), her dad’s eyes snap up towards him.

“ And you are ? “

Though Billy does not have the time to answer.

“ That is none of your business. You have to leave, now. “

“ (Y/N), honey. Come on. I just — I’m doing better and I wanted to see you. You’re my little girl. I missed you. Did you not miss me ? “

She’s biting her lip, then taking a deep breath. Billy can just about make out the tears clouding her eyes. God, he just wants to wrap her in his arms and shelter her from all the bad stuff.

“ You’re doing better, yeah ? You stink, dad. I can smell the alcohol all the way here. I don’t want to see you or hear from you or have anything to do with you. I told you this before and I’ll tell you again, there’s no room in my life for you. I have a good life. I like school, I have a nice job and — “ she sighs and glances at Billy “ people who care about me. I don’t need you and I don’t want you. Leave ! ”

As the man takes a step towards (Y/N), Billy realises this is his moment to intervene. There’s a line you don’t cross and this dude is about to cross it.

Billy steps in front of (Y/N), taking a defiant stance. He’s never really had anyone or anything he felt like protecting. Protecting Max is a necessity, something that comes with the burdens and responsibilities of being an older brother even if it isn’t a blood relation. Protecting (Y/N) is a whole different story. Something he’s doing for the first time in his life.

He’s putting himself on the line for her, willingly. Not because someone expects this from him and not because he feels obligated to. He does it because it feels right. Because sheltering her from harm is more important than saving his own ass.

Those thoughts are scary. They’re terrifying even.

But if those thoughts and feelings are indicating a change in him, a chance towards becoming a better person. A person his mom would be proud of. A person that’s worth (Y/N)’s time, then maybe he can deal with scary and terrifying.

“ She told you to leave. “

His voice is deep and threatening. He knows he can be quite intimidating if he wants to be, had years of practice while letting out his frustration on kids weaker than him. And though he’s insanely ashamed of the person he used to be, it’s moments like these where Billy is glad for the lessons he’s learned in life. Like how to look and sound intimidating.

“ (Y/N) I — “ the man keps addressing her, though Billy notices his eyes ever so often flicking up towards Billy’s.

“ Just leave, man. I’m not gonna fucking repeat myself. “

The man regards Billy with an unreadable expression for a moment, almost as if he’s considering whether or not it makes sense to fight back. Eventually he raises his arms in defeat and lets out a huff of annoyance. Jesus, (Y/N) was right, he does reek of booze.

“ Alright, alright. I want no trouble. I just wanted to see my kid. I’ll go. “

As if this dude hasn’t caused enough trouble for (Y/N) already. Billy watches as the man gets in his truck, then watches the car drive away until it is but a dot and turns the corner into the next street.

It’s only when he feels a soft touch on his arm that he averts his gaze and focuses back on (Y/N). She looks so small, so scared.

This strong, brave, wonderful woman that seems to be walking on air and dancing on clouds every moment of her life is gone and replaced by a timid little girl. Billy hates that this man still holds so much power over her. That despite getting away from him, (Y/N) will never be fully free from the pulls he has on her life. That just a few words can shake her up so badly that it turns her into a completely different person.

Billy wants to help, so badly. To take this weight off of her and bring back the perpetual lightness she seems to carry around wherever she goes.

The thing is, Billy has no idea what to do to make it better. He’s never had to be the one to cheer someone else up. Never has been anyone’s person to depend on, to hold onto when things get rough. He doesn’t know how to be someone’s rock. Someone’s person.

“ Pretty girl, tell me what to do to make it better. “ he says as he wraps his arm around her and wipes a few tears off her face with his thumb.

“ Just hold me “

And so he does. He pulls her as close as he can and holds onto her as if she’d fall apart otherwise. Maybe things can eventually turn out good for the both of them if they just hold on tightly. To each other and to what they have right now. A feeling of belonging of mutual understanding of — love ?

He holds her close all the way up to her apartment and then lets her cuddle into his side as they sit on her couch. Luke comes crawling onto her lap and with one hand brushing through his fur and the other holding tightly onto Billy’s, (Y/N) seems to let a tiny bit of that weight fall off her shoulders again.

“ You wanna know what’s the worst part ? “ (Y/N) speaks up after a moment, looking up at Billy with her big beautiful eyes, still so full of sadness it sends a metaphorical dagger straight to Billy’s heart.

“ What’s that ? “

“ When he asked if I miss him? I couldn’t even say no. Because I do. I miss my dad when he was still my dad. When he had his good days he was so wonderful. Like a completely different person. I miss that man so so much. Isn’t that just so ridiculous of me ? “

It’s not. Not at all. If anyone knows what that feels like it’s definitely Billy. Billy who gets nothing but mean words and black eyes from his dad but still so desperately wants Neil to be proud of him.

“ It’s not. “ he reassures (Y/N) and places a kiss on her head “ my dad beat the shit out of my mom and he constantly slaps me around but I still want him to be proud of me. If anyone’s ridiculous it’s me. I hate myself for it but he’s my dad and I just want him to be proud of me for once. Just once. You miss a dad that loved you, a good dad. That’s understandable. Fuck, I miss a good dad and I never had one to begin with. “

“ I think he should be “

“ Huh ? “

“ I think your dad should be proud of you “.

Billy tries to swallow the knot that seems to be forming in his throat “ for what ? I haven’t done shit to be proud of “.

“ You have a job you’re good at. “

“ I’m a fucking lifeguard at the local pool, that’s hardly a career to be proud of “.

“ You teach kids how to swim. I think that’s adorable and important. I serve people while wearing roller skates. “

“ That’s adorable too “

She smiles at those words and Billy thinks that maybe cheering her up and being the person she can depend on to hold onto isn’t all that hard. Maybe it’s something that comes naturally. Because she’s his person too.

“ You helped Alex when no one else would, a complete stranger. You are so kind, Billy. I wish everyone got to see it. I know the — circumstances have made you bitter and angry and I know that it’s hard to let go of that. But those times when you let me see what’s behind all that anger and sadness ? There’s so much kindness there and I think you should be so proud of keeping that part of you alive. Even if it’s very well hidden, it’s still there and that’s what matters. “

It’s then that Billy notices just how close they really are. How her breath falls onto his skin and how the tip of her nose brushes his. It’s like that time in the music room only there’s no kids barging in anytime soon.

This is it, he thinks. The moment he’s been waiting for and yet the moment he never expected to actually experience.

Billy Hargrove has had many kisses before. Hot, needy kisses and soft gentle kisses. Short kisses and long kisses, with lots of tongue or no tongue.

Billy Hargrove has never kissed a person he cared for so deeply though. He always thought that songs and movies got it all wrong. That kissing wasn’t as fundamentally important and magical as they make it out to be.

There’s a tingling in his stomach, rushing through his system all the way to his fingertips. It’s strange as if someone has poured a package of Pop Rocks into his bloodstream. His whole body is on high alert waiting for the inevitable moment when he her lips meet his and he gets to see, for the first time, what a kiss can be.

(Y/N) closes the gap between them and it’s everything the movies said it would be and yet it’s nothing like fiction portrays it. There’s no fireworks or butterflies and the earth doesn’t shift. Nothing is fundamentally changed and yet everything is different.

Because for a boy who never knew love, a kiss from a girl who’s got so much love to give, changes everything. It’s more than a kiss. It’s a silent understanding. A conscious choice.

It’s a “you’re good enough”.

It’s a “you’re more than okay”.

It’s a “welcome home “.

(Y/N) tastes like cherry coke and warmth. Her lips are so soft. God they are so soft. Billy wants to stay in this moment forever. Just feel wanted. Wanted and safe and warm and —

“ Pretty boy, you are so wonderful, please never let me go “.

There’s no hint of uncertainty in her voice as she pulls away and says those words. Her eyes hold no more tears instead they’re full of questions neither of them are ready to ask or answer.

“ I won't. I won't”.

Billy Hargrove never breaks a promise. Ever.

“ I won’t, I promise. “

He pulls her closer and connects their lips again because when kissing was great before, this is a whole different level of bliss. One that he isn’t gonna deny himself.

Billy thinks he’s shown a great deal of self restraint ever since he’s met (Y/N). She’s a gorgeous girl and if this was any other person, any other situation he would’ve tried getting into her pants from day one.

It’s her though and it’s different and he’s tried so hard to not think of her that way in order to not ruin their friendship. Though when he wakes up the next morning and sees her standing by the kitchen counter making pancakes, something stirs inside him.

There’s a deep longing for her and though there’s no denying it’s sexual. It’s fueled by a lust so much deeper than any physical attraction.

She’s not wearing anything revealing, in fact her pajamas make her look quite dorky. But Billy thinks the way she’s humming along to the radio while mixing what he assumes is pancake batter, is the sexiest thing he’s ever seen.

“ Oh good m— “ Billy pulls her into a kiss before she gets the chance to finish her sentence. She tastes of sugar, entirely too much sugar, and yet he never wants to stop kissing her, ever.

“ — morning “.

“ Why do you taste so sweet ? “

“ Ah I’m just sweet like that “ she laughs and places another peck on Billy’s lips “ it’s the pancake batter. I wanted to make us breakfast but I think I might’ve gone a bit overboard on the sugar. “

“ You think ? “ Billy chuckles, raising his eyebrow in question.

“ Here try it “ she says, drags her finger along the side of the bowl then holds it out to him. God, does she know what she’s doing to him ?

He licks the batter from her finger and god, there’s way too much sugar. Billy has to come to the conclusion that (Y/N) is a horrible cook. He really doesn’t give a shit though.

There’s a sizzling in the air, a palpable electricity as their eyes lock. It was never like this for Billy, slow and full of tension. Usually it’s fast and rushed and he can’t wait to get off.

He’s enjoying this though. It’s a new kind of thrill. One that’s fueled by genuine feelings.

(Y/N)’s hands wander into his hair, brushing through his curls and slightly pulling at them. She’s focusing solely on him, as if nothing else matters in the world. As if nothing else exists except them two and this little bubble they’re caught in right now.

The kiss that follows is different from the ones they’ve shared before, it’s faster, needier, filled with a longing for more. He needs to feel her closer. So much closer.

Her hands are wandering up and down his arms, his neck, his chest, until the grab onto his shirt and pull it over his head. As Billy stands before her, shirtless with messy hair and breathing deeply, she chuckles then bites her lip. This girl is gonna be the death of him.

“ Fuck, pretty boy. This is what the ladies at the pool get to see during your shift ? You could’ve told me, I would’ve come for a visit. “

Billy laughs at that. Genuinely laughs. Because just being with her, silly comments and all, makes him happy. It makes him want to laugh and it doesn’t matter that they’re about to have sex and she’s prolonging the foreplay with her stupid jokes, because just being with her is enough. She’s enough to make him want to laugh.

“ I think “ he says and pecks her lips “ you’re severely overdressed. “

Slowly she raises her arms and lets him pull her shirt off. Seeing her naked before him, knowing she trust him to be this intimate with him, to let him touch her, feel her, love her. It’s empowering. It’s wonderful.

And fuck, this girl is a masterpiece.

Billy wants to worship every inch of her skin, mark her in kisses and let her feel just how gorgeous she is, inside and out. To take away all the pain the past has put on her and replace it with unwavering adoration.

So he starts doing just that. His lips move down her jaw, leaving wet hot kisses. He descends down her chest, to the valley of her breasts. (Y/N)’s head is thrown back, leaning against the kitchen cabinet, eyes closed in pure and utter bliss. If this is the reaction he gets from her just by leaving kisses, he can’t wait for what’s yet to come.

He moves down her body little by little, paying special attention to her tits. They’re fucking glorious.

As he kneels before her and reaches the edge of her pajama pants he stops for a moment and looks up at her, waiting for (Y/N) to meet his gaze. He needs to know that she wants this just as much as he does.

When he does look down at him, eyes clouded over with lust, and nods her head at the silent question he’s sending her way, that’s all the confirmation he needs.

Almost agonizingly slowly he pulls down her pants and underwear and lets them pool on the floor for her to kick them to the side. Billy takes a moment to just look at her in all her naked glory. She’s an angel if he’s ever seen one.

“ Why are you looking at me like that ? “ she asks, almost self consciously.

“ You’re just really gorgeous and I can’t wait to make you feel really good, baby. “

Billy has always enjoyed sex but until now it was a selfish act. One he took part in to satisfy himself and chase his own pleasure. He never truly worried about the girls. If he’s being completely honest, he only cared about making them cum to stroke his own ego.

It’s different now. He wants to make her cum. Wants to make her feel as good as she makes him feel by just being there. By letting him be a part of her life no matter how insignificant that part might be.

“ Ya know, that’s a pretty hot sight. You on your knees. Pretty boy “ she says with a smirk as Billy lifts her leg and starts kissing the inside of her thigh.

“ Yeah ? “

“ Mmmh “

“ Guess that’s what you do to me. You’re just so — “ Billy murmurs against her skin, moving up her leg and towards where she really wants to feel him.

“ — irresistible. “ he accompanies his words with a kiss against her clit. Then one more and one more and before she knows it he’s switching between fast kitten licks at soft sucking.

Billy doesn’t usually go down on girls. It brings him no immediate pleasure so he doesn’t usually bother. Oh how wrong he was. Feeling her fingers desperately tug on his hair, hearing her moans of pleasure, tasting her, it all turns him on so much. It does bring him pleasure. So much of it.

When his fingers join in, that’s when she completely comes undone, grabbing onto his head with both hands and slightly leaning forward, pressing his head closer to her heat in the process.

“ Fuck, Billy. You’re doing so good “.

He loves this. Hearing that he’s doing well. That he’s making her feel this bliss. He wants to hear her say it again. Praise him again.

“ Say it again “ he mumbles against her skin.

“ Baby, you’re making me feel so — uh fuck — so good. “

He can feel her tighten around his finger, can feel her grab onto his head harder than before. She lets out a moan that gives him goosebumps.

Billy wipes his chin clean with the back of his hand and gets up, placing a long wet smooch on her lips.

“ No one’s ever done that before “ she confesses in murmured words against his lips.

“ No ? “

“ No. Just you, baby. Just you. “

His ego grows and grows and there’s a stupid sense of pride filling him at the knowledge that he gets to be a part of one of her firsts.

(Y/N)’s hands fumble with his belt, then push down his jeans. As her eyes travel down his body, she can’t suppress a giggle.

“ What? Why are you laughing ?”

“ You’re going commando ? Why am I not surprised “

And when she laughs, he can’t help but laugh along. Because that’s just how contagious her laugh is. It’s warm and radiant and he never wants to forget what it sounds like. What it feels like.

Sex was never goofy before. Billy was never goofy before. He never got to be. Not even when he was a kid. Everything was always serious. He never got to be childish or silly. Never.

It feels good to laugh. To be goofy and silly and ridiculous. Especially in such an intimate situation. The weight that’s constantly resting on his shoulders is lifted off of him. Even if it’s just for a moment it feels liberating. It feels so so good.

Maybe this is what has been missing all along. Someone to laugh with.

Billy grabs her thighs and lifts her up so she can sit on the counter. It’s not the most comfortable position but they’re both too riled up, too needy to move this to the couch or the bed.

“ Do you want this ? “ he asks, lips moving against hers.

“ More than anything “.

There’s so much kissing that Billy soon forgets where his lips end and her’s begin. They’re one now and it feels like that’s how it was always supposed to be.

Leaving her for just a moment, Billy picks up his jeans and pulls out his wallet, frantically searching for a condom, his heart doing a little leap when he finally finds one.

“Hurry up, pretty boy. God, you are so handsome !”

He knows he’s good looking but it hits an entirely new spot coming from her. It means more. It means everything. Because he knows that it’s not all that matters to her. That (Y/N) has seen behind his looks, has seen the cracks and the scars and the ugly side of it all. And she still wants him.

They lock eyes as Billy pushes inside of her. He’s going slow, agonizingly slow. Cherishes every moment, every touch, every motion.

It takes but a blink of a second until they’re moving completely in sync, with each other, with the world, with everything. Billy feels weightless when he’s with her. Like a little of that lightness she carries around rubs of onto him.

His fingers grab tightly onto her waist as his hips move rhythmically against hers, like waves against the shore. The enchanting taste of her lips clouding his senses with sweet ecstasy.

Billy’s movements grow less controlled with each thrust. It’s getting significantly harder to keep his euphoria at bay and not let go off all these tingles that seem to be doing somersaults in the lower regions of his body.

(Y/N) is helplessly wringing and gasping, like with one last hit she would drown in joy and never recover ever again. And they are both more than okay with it.

” I love this baby ….. but I won’t be able to hold much longer “ Billy moanes into (Y/N)’s ear, his hot breath fanning against her neck, sending shivers down her spine.

They move together, faster; harder; more desperate. Desperate to get closer to one another, desperate to make the other feel just as good as one self, desperate to show just how much this means. So much more than sex.

And they succeed. They succeed in every little point. Every moan is a call of victory, every twitch and moving muscle, a dance of joy.

Love creeps up on them and swallows them whole.

As the tidal wave of pleasure crashes upon them, they cling to each other desperately, filling the room with moans and grunts of utter euphoria. Billy’s never been so satisfied.

Riding out his high, Billy leans his head against (Y/N)’s shoulder, placing soft sloppy kisses against her neck.

For a few minutes they just stay there, holding each other and soaking in the ultimate postcoital bliss.

“ Billy “ she softly whispers and motions for him to lift his head off of her shoulder. (Y/N) softly combs the hair away from his face “ how did you like the pancake batter ? Too much sugar ? “

He doesn’t answer, just erupts into another fit of laughter. It feels so good. So freeing. Billy never wants this moment to end. Never wants to let go of the laugher. Of the happiness. Of the girl.

The taxidermy raccoon looks like a little burglar, Billy thinks. With his little burglar mask and his beady eyes and his tiny paws. Billy grins at that thought.

“ You look happy “

“ Huh ? “

Dr. K pushes the too-big glasses up his nose and folds his hands, resting them on his desk.

“ I said you look happy. Happier than last time. “

He is. It’s not because of the sex, not only because of it. It’s entirely because of (Y/N) though, there’s no doubt in Billy’s mind. He’s not gonna spill any of that to the shrink though. Nah, no way.

“ So ? “

“ Billy, I wish you would cooperate just a little bit. I know this is a change for you and I know that it’s hard to open up to a stranger but I think it could really benefit you “.

Billy takes a breath, his eyes falling onto the raccoon again.

“ Doc ? “

“ Yes ? “

“ What’s with the critter up there ? “

Dr. K chuckles and takes the glasses off, twirling them around in his hand “ That’s Georgie. He’s uh — he belonged to my mother-in-law. It’s what she left me in her will after she passed away. Why she had it, no idea. She wasn’t my biggest fan so I wonder why she gave anything to me in the first place. “

“ Maybe it’s her subtle way of wishing you get rabies “.

“ You know, it would not surprise me, really. “

Billy doesn’t want to be here and he especially doesn’t want to talk about his feeling but even so, he has to admit that Dr. K is an okay guy.

“ Your wife okay with that ? Her mother not liking you ? “

“ Nicole is — “ Dr. K starts then looks wistfully around the room. There’s a tiny smile on his face. Billy wonders if he looks this dorky when he thinks about (Y/N). “ — she’s the love of my life. She has been since we were in High School. She’s gotten used to her mother’s dislike for me. She chose to be with me anyway. Now we’ve been married for over 20 years and counting “.

“ And you’re still happy ? “

“ I get happier and happier every time I look at her “.

Billy looks up at the raccoon again, letting Dr. K’s words curse through his mind. Maybe relationships aren’t all doomed to crash and burn. Maybe there are exceptions. Maybe he could be one.

“ He’s still fucking creepy, not gonna lie. Giving me the heeby jeebies “.

“ Oh no doubt, he’s unsettling. But I kinda like him“. Dr. K replies.

Billy kinda likes the raccoon too.

Neil isn’t home, that’s the first thing Billy notices when he walks through the front door. He’s more than glad about it. Not only does he not have to explain where he’s been the last 2 days, he also doesn’t have to sit through a uncomfortable family dinner.

He’s got other plans. Important plans.

Plans that demand of him to swallow his pride and ask for help. From one specific person.

As he approaches the door of the room next to his, he can hear music coming from the other side. It sounds like Madonna. It’s probably Madonna, Max is obsessed with her.

He knocks on her door, mentally preparing himself for what is to come.

“ Go away, mom. I’m busy “

“ It’s me, shitbird. Open the door “.

The music cuts off and he can hear her huffing loudly before the door swings open and a visibly annoyed Max greats him with a scowl and an eyebrow raised in question.

“ What do you want ? “

Billy doesn’t answer right away, instead he pushes past her into her room. Max mumbles a sarcastic “oh yeah make yourself a home” before closing the door and sitting down on her bed.

“ Billy what is going on ? “

Talking to her like this, asking for help and being vulnerable, that’s something that still takes a lot of effort. Billy doesn’t remember the last time he’s had a proper conversation with Max that didn’t involve either of them yelling at the other.

“ I need your help “

It’s scary saying those words but Billy thinks that (Y/N) might just be worth it.

“ I — You — What ? “ an utterly confused looking Max questions.

“ Listen, if you make a big deal out of it ...“

“ I won’t, calm down. What do you need my help with ? “

“ You’re a girl “

“ Good observation, Sherlock “

“ Max, I swear to god — “

“ Sorry. Sorry, continue “.

“ You’re a girl. You know what girls like and I uh — I want to take a girl out “

“ You’ve been on a shit ton of dates before, what do you need my help for ? You take girls out every other day. “

Billy looks up from where his eyes had been focused on the floor, hoping that Max can see just how much this means to him.

“ It’s different. It’s different with her. She’s more than just — “ he trails off.

“ I’m 14. You can say sex. “

He doesn’t want to though. She’s still his little sister and that is the last topic he wants to discuss with her.

“ Yeah but I won’t. All you gotta know is that she’s special and I want to take her somewhere special but I never did anything like that before, for anyone. So I need your help. “

“ Billy, I really don’t know if — “

“ Max, “ Billy says, eyes locking with her’s. He can see her take in his face, the wound on his lip, the bruise around his eye, the cheek still slightly swollen. “ You owe me “.

Max sighs then nods. “ Alright, alright. Sure. I’ll help you if this means so much to you”.

It does. Billy doesn’t think she can imagine just how much.

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