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#he won because he at least Appeared to be sympathetic
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okay i'm gonna say something and you all have to give me a chance. ready?
we need to stop making fun of poor american southerners who distrust the government. it's real easy to call them all conspiracy theorists and dismiss them, but half the time, its built off of a genuine feeling of being abandoned by the infrastructure meant to keep them safe.
in appalachia, a lot of people lost their homes because of coal mining operations. a lot of people worked in those mines, and then when the mines stopped being profitable, they got tossed out with the bathwater. a lot of appalachia is poor, malnourished, and i don't blame them for not trusting rich politicians who dismiss them as stupid and lower class.
if yall actually listened to half the things poor southerners say, you'd realize that a Lot of common leftist complaints are virtually identical to the rural grandma who doesn't hold with electronic money and politicians. it stems from a genuine feeling of abandonment and ostracization by the people who run the country. functionally, someone living paycheck to paycheck in the city in a tiny apartment has infinitely more in common with someone from rural appalachia than a politician. high rent, high taxes, food insecurity, feeling lied to by those in power, a general sense of frustration. it just sounds fancier coming from a city mouth than one with shitty teeth and a southern accent.
tl;dr stop dismissing southern people as stupid. they're absolutely right not to wholeheartedly trust politicians, because they've been fucked over by them time and time again, and honestly, id rather talk to a southern person who openly distrusts their representatives than someone from the city who wholeheartedly believes that Frederick Jamestown OldMoney III genuinely cares what people think and can be convinced to change his ways.
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roman-and-azathoth · 2 months
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tell me about the Ganondorf/Link ship 👀
Hi anon!
So I ship Ganlink in many of the canon universes, but the one I'll talk about here will be Twilight Princess, my favorite iteration of Ganondorf as well as Link. I'm putting a lot of the Manga's backstory onto Link. In this instance, Ganondorf's invasion of the castle is successful, and Link is captured.
Ganondorf makes the first move, with Link in a cell a la Peach and Bowser and just kind of talking at him. He doesn't hurt him because where's the gratification in that? He won. He had exiled the princess to the desert and sent the ruler of the Twilight packing back to her realm. There wouldn't be any pleasure from torturing the hero any further.
Link learns that Ganondorf's motivations are entirely centered around saving his people from the harsh desert. He learns that the King of Hyrule denied him and his people asylum as well as supplies to keep them alive.
Link doesn't speak at all (I headcanon him as selectively mute due to a combination of gender dysphoria (he's trans) and a HORRENDOUS stutter that people made fun of) and he's shocked that Ganondorf appears to respect that.
Ganondorf at least attempts to get him to speak, but it's surpringly not that forceful. "You are not much of a talker, are you, Chosen?" And a shake of his head gets Ganondorf thinking.
Ganondorf starts learning Hylian Sign Language in the hopes he can get Link talking.
The first thing Link asks him once he realizes Ganondorf understands his signing is if he's the last of his people. Ganondorf seems angered by this, but the anger ebbs away quite quickly to a somber sort of look, and he sits down in a chair outside the cell. The conversation goes something like this:
"You're the last of your tribe... aren't you?"
"... Yes."
"I'm sorry."
"It is no fault of yours what happened to my people."
"If it helps... I'm the last of my tribe, too."
"Your small village in the forest would suggest otherwise."
"They aren't my tribe. They took me in several years before this all happened."
Link shares what happened in the city he destroyed by pulling that sword. Ganondorf appears to be sympathetic. He opens the cell door and releases Link's limbs from their chains. He fully expects the smaller male to strike him and run, but... the hero merely sits on the stone instead. Ganondorf sits across from him.
"Why did you not run?"
"What's the point? I've got nowhere to go."
"Your village?"
"They think I'm dead. Besides, nobody would want some washed up hero who failed the one task he was given."
Ganondorf winces at this. It is his fault, after all.
"Was it even your choice to begin with? This task?"
"No."
"If given the choice, would you have done the same?"
Link's sign is much more snappy this time. "No."
So... not only had this boy failed in his goddess-ordained task, but he hadn't even wanted to do it in the first place.
"The goddesses have a cruel way of pawning about their chosen."
"Could've figured that out on my own." A bitter glare from the hero.
"Come." Ganondorf stands up, gesturing Link to come with him.
And so, Ganondorf outfits Link in something OTHER than green, he puts him in blue. Gives him his own room in the castle. Allows him to come and go as he pleases. And when Link inevitably leaves the castle, the people swarm him and ask him how he escaped. And they're shocked when he says,
"He let me go."
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literaila · 2 years
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dichotomy 
tasm!peter parker x reader
summary: even though you woul like to refuse his help, peter is careful and sweet. he’ll take care of you. 
warnings: fluff, illness, medicine. and, you know, peter. 
a/n: part one. (if you’ve seen this before no you haven’t)
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*
perhaps this was supposed to feel terrifying. 
the trickle of water, the incessant tragedy, flowing down your back in an incandescent reminder of where you were. 
perhaps you were supposed to be afraid, should've been. 
the honeysuckle air, a golden aura invading your senses crippling the so certain self-preservation that used to rest itself on the tip of your chest. 
maybe you should've been scared by the unfamiliarity; the slightest nod towards you, the tiniest smile invading a sullen face. 
there were so many things, so many possibilities hidden under a special pair of eyelids. 
how glorifying it was to finally see. 
to look around and feel nothing but the surety, the confidence that this was it. 
to see the colors without all the spots. 
to know so many things you could never understand. to comprehend insanity perfectly. 
you really should've been terrified. 
there was nothing usual here. nothing to point you in any good direction. 
but you'd never claimed to follow a set path. 
you could hear birds, whistling. 
*
if there's anything to be thankful for, it's the golden-cast hue of sympathetic eyes as they look upon you. 
not that you appreciate it in the slightest. 
you don't need his pity. 
but, you don't have time to protest his eyes, because a stricken fond look appears on his face. 
"peter," you say, almost warning him. 
"you look terrible." 
he says it admirably, as if he weren't insulting you. 
you frown. 
he only rubs his thumb across your cheek, appreciating you in some creepy, unbelievably adorable way. 
"that's rude," you tell him, trying to sit up on the bed, making room for him to sit down next to you. he does so willingly. 
his hands are rough, calloused as they cradle your head. 
he's so warm. it's disgusting. 
"you're warm," he frowns then, without losing the insane look in his eyes. brings a hand up to your forehead. the frown increases. 
it's a green flag. you've won. 
"i feel freezing," you do make an effort to keep the smirk off of your face. 
efforts are so often futile. 
"you can just tell me if you want to cuddle," peter promises, looking into your eyes once again. 
his brown is so irritatingly beautiful. 
"ugh, gross." 
and then you lay down again, turning to your side so that he can't look at you anymore. 
some part of you feels embarrassed. and you know--you know--that you shouldn't. it's obvious in the sickeningly sweet way peter's still looking at you, in his warm hands and rough gentleness. 
it's not embarrassing to be sick. 
it's human. 
and yet, there's something so trivial about it. it makes you want to crawl under the covers and tell your boyfriend to go away for at least a week until you rejuvenate yourself into something slightly more alive. 
more human. 
but peter hasn't mastered the art of reading minds. he simply moves from his place on the bed--you can hear him kicking off his shoes--and walks around to the other side--your eyes wide open because his presence fills you with something very close to energy--and sits down again. 
right next to you. 
still looking so very sweet. 
"one," he says, smiling. "i'm offended. you love cuddling. two, have you been drinking water?" 
"you probably shouldn't get so close to me," you nod to emphasize. "i'm diseased. spiders might be allergic." 
"that doesn't even make sense." 
"i'm dying, peter parker, and you don't want your last memories of me to be on my death bed." 
it's a futile attempt because both of you know that he's not going to leave. 
there's a pause, and then: "if you were actually dying i wouldn't leave your side for a moment." although you can hear the sarcasm in his voice, his brow still furrows. 
a bit distraught at the prospect. 
"not even once?" you ask. 
peter, with half a smirk, leans down, his nose brushing against yours. "never." 
you want to drink in his skin. you want to kiss him until neither of you can breathe and the world has fallen at your feet. 
you want to keep him from getting sick. 
so you push him away, albeit with a smile. 
he stares at you for a moment, not bothering to protest, and pretends to think. "though, i'm sure i could figure out some way to save you, whatever it is." 
"are you referencing magic?" 
you say it with the excitement of a toddler. peter rolls his eyes. "science." 
"how boring." 
there is something familiar about his eyes. something so familiar about this moment, this breathtakingly powerful exhaustion that threatens to overcome your body. 
you're not really that sick. 
"you didn't answer my question." 
you roll your eyes. "i had a gatorade at approximately 1400 hours, doctor. " 
"that was three hours ago." 
"it was a big gatorade. i'm dying. aid me." 
"when was the last time you took any medicine?" 
you smile at him, bigger than you have all day. "when i drank the gatorade." 
"i'm bringing you nyquil." 
"you're bold for assuming that i just have nyquil in my house, peter." 
and of course, he only smiles, bringing his hand down to craddle your face again--
briefly. it reminds you of something else. some kind of intimacy that you've missed for so long. it feels like a gentle reminder, a roaring fact that he's there, that he's with you, that he cares, despite whatever guilt swims around your insides, infecting every inch of you. 
briefly, a memory flashes behind your eyes. 
and then it's gone, and so is his hand. 
he's still smiling at you. 
"i know you, you know," he says. "i stopped at the pharmacy before i came over." 
something pokes at your heart. 
"did you get more gatorade?" 
peter laughs, standing up. "course." 
*
"how mad would you be if i kissed you?" 
peter's eyes are so perfectly intimidating. 
he sees beyond the careful sculpture of your face. he looks at your eyes, and the sullen-like infraction of your nose, at the blemishes and scars--all the bad, all the good--and he just knows. 
he's unrelentingly observant. 
still. "on a scale from one to ten?" you ask. 
he nods, a soft smile as he plays with your fingers. 
you've drunk all the water, taken all the medicine. you've completely embarrassed yourself in sneezes and coughed until peter actually looked concerned. 
and yet here he sits, looking so perfectly content. 
it's entirely unfair. 
"hmm," you say, pretending to think. "a million." 
he barely looks at you. "you know, i don't think you can get me sick." 
"it's shocking to me that you can think in the first place." 
his eyes meet yours, something like defiance. "mean." 
you look away, feign apathy. "oh i suppose, peter," you say, curling the words on your lips as he brings your hand up to his own. it tickles, but not enough to break you. "as long as you think it'll all be fine. and i guess if you think neither of us will die of disease, then go right ahead-"
peter's smiling, trying to get you to look back at him. you barely notice when he tilts your head back towards him in the simplest of gestures. 
"i'm going to kiss you now," he says, but you're not listening. 
"-and if you think we should go get matching spider tattoos right now, then we have to, because as long as you think-" 
he interrupts you in the cruelest of ways. 
his lips are soft, a particular brand of torture. 
it's barely three seconds, barely one peck and pull and push you away, but it's just enough to give you the need to gasp for air. it's just enough to be too much. 
you're so hesitant to let him go. 
so scared to finally breathe. so afraid to let it go.
you push him away. "you're going to get sick, peter." 
he's so close, you can feel his breath on your philtrum. he's so close, he's melting his smiles into you. 
"it's worth it," he promises you in a bout of stupidity. 
"not to me," you insist, trying to get him to move even further back. 
but he's peter, and so he doesn't even budge. 
you sigh, hands right against his chest--no, you're not paying attention to that, nor the heat flooding your body. "if you get sick i'm going to have to nurse you back to health."
luckily, peter laughs, taking your hands. "oh, that's what this is about?" 
"i'm busy, peter," you whine. 
"so unappreciative," he tsks, shaking his head. 
you've been sitting together on your bed for the past hour. 
"you literally just brought me gatorade." 
"and medicine." 
"and medicine. do you want me to venmo you?" 
peter scoffs. "please." 
he moves then, seeming to realize what you had moments before, getting up from the spot he'd dug out for himself and standing just a bit above you. 
it might be scary. it's really just cute. 
he's barely smiling. "will you move over?" 
"uncomfortable?" 
"we're cuddling. you're sick." 
you hum. "are you going to make me do this when you're sick?" 
peter doesn't answer, he's trying to hide his smile, trying not to stare at you with those unappreciative, hopeless eyes. 
you're thankful for that if anything. grateful for his hesitance, even now. 
it's a brief tether to reality. 
a wake-up call. 
he doesn't answer, instead, gestures his head to the side, gently moving you away from the edge of the bed. 
you don't protest. maybe it's the lack of energy, but you really do love cuddling.
love to tie yourself down. 
peter moves in right next to you, sweatshirt bunching at his waist, and opens his arms, making room for you in the solace of his embrace. 
you go oh so willingly. 
he's warm--he's always warm, it's a quirk--and you're freezing. 
that's your excuse for melting your skin together until you can feel nothing but him. 
it's so very simple, to be welded here. 
there are only satisfying burns. 
only the golden aura of peter, all his acuity punched into your chest. you love it. 
"comfortable?" he asks, only slightly mocking you. 
"this is terrible."
"i know," you feel him nod his head against yours. you're curled up into his neck, smelling the flowers. 
"the worst," you say, again. 
"i know," peter repeats. 
you think you can feel him smiling. 
and there's just a brief moment, guilt, flowing into your skin. 
ruining the limbs you'd glued together. 
"thank you," you say, just loud enough for peter to hear. "i didn't say it. thank you." 
"you don't have to thank me." 
but you shake your head, cuddle closer to him.
this is peace, this is agony. 
"i can't remember the last time anyone took care of me when i was sick." 
it's not really a lie. 
peter sighs, holds you tighter. "i don't like it when you're sick." 
you move, back letting a smile tease at your lips, your eyes meet his. "it's not so bad," you tell him. 
"i kinda think you might be faking." 
you cough, just to prove him wrong. 
he laughs, and you can feel the vibration right in your core. 
"don't worry," you say, voice groggy. "you'll get me back." 
peter just nods, brown eyes so soft on yours. 
his presence is comfort you might've known, just once. 
or twice. 
you crave more. more energy, more smiles, more laughter, more perfection--carved out in the subtlest of hearts. 
"i'll take care of you." 
peter promises things. so many things you can't begin to comprehend, can't begin to believe. 
"me too," you say. 
and it's enough. for now. 
*
how nice it is to open your eyes. 
how perfectly perfect is this? 
*
part two. 
my masterlist here. 
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soundbluster · 6 months
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hi! im curious if overlord did appear in the story? i still did't read the story and it's long so i don't know if he did appear and if he did't will he appear in a flashback? and if he won't can you at least give us how do you think a sg overlord would be? sorry if i annoyed you im just curious because i did't see a sg version of overlord done right and your sg takes on characters is amazing
I've not used them in the story yet. They might cameo at some point but I don't really have any plans to use them in any major way.
-----
I've not really given SG Overlord a huge amount of thought, but I like the idea of basing them loosly on the original god-master concept / Titans Return toy. So they'd be a headmaster.
Maybe they were originally a miner-caste or manual-caste minicon who piloted a large Transector (body, technically two bodies as his transector splits into two separate alt-modes), who joined a gladatorial ring* to try and escape his function and because they enjoyed the thrill of the fight. Here they earnt the title of Overlord, and were granted caste-exemption (effectively making him a high-caste bot), after they won many battles.
However they gradually became more and more disgusted at themselves, taking no pleasure in the violence, and after he was forced to kill a friend in a fight by his pit-boss, and became a staunch pacifist, volunteering in and learning first aid and basic repairs in one of Flat Line's free clinics (which were the only medical facilities avaliable for most low-caste bots and were also used as a front by the AVL) and campaining against the pits and the slavery they intailed.
As an ex-manual caste he was naturally sympathetic towards the Decepticon movement, and was involved in a number of the early rallys and protests. After the war broke out he refused to fight, but he joined the Decepticons as a field medic (while he didn't know more complex medical procedures he could provide emergency patches to the wounded) and acted as one of Megatrons advisers.
*(In my SG AU the gladatorial pits were perfectly legal, if seen as seedy. The bots who fought in pits were generally made up of a mixture of enslaved constructed cybertronians who had been built specifically to be arena fodder, like Ravage; forged low-caste bots who joined the arenas to try win caste-exemption (and usually signed extremely bad contracts that made them effectively indentured servants to the bit bosses); and large middle and high caste bots who wanted the status. It was not uncommon for fights to be rigged to ensure any high caste bots joining the fights either won or at least weren't killed in the arenas.)
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quizzyisdone · 11 months
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Bigger Than The Whole Sky | Russell Adler Oneshot
A/N: So, a little while ago I had to put my cat, Sweetheart, down. She was named ironically, because she wasn't the nicest cat, but she was my soul cat and I loved her deeply. She was the co-writer of every fic I have ever posted and even though it's been about 2 months, I so desperately miss her and to lose my co-author made writing unexpectedly very difficult. However, she was the inspiration behind these Adler headcanons, and now I would like to write one final piece to honor her memory. Enjoy! Word Count: 2k Pairing: None
Warnings: Mentions of death (animal and human), strong language, mentions of Cold War era politics, and grief
Please see this fic if you would like context behind Adler's son.
** Title inspired by Bigger Than The Whole Sky by Taylor Swift
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No words appear before me in the aftermath Salt streams out my eyes and into my ears Every single thing I touch becomes sick with sadness
Adler was never one to let his emotions get the better of him, to let his hands shake and his body tremble as he silently cursed God for making him play His role to his little girl. His hands trembled violently, angrily, but mostly importantly with such an agonizing grief as he shoved his keys into the ignition.
He glanced into the rear view mirror, catching a glimpse of the empty carrier in the back seat -- which had nearly broken him. Just an hour ago, there was a living being in there, now there is not. She should be in that carrier, meowing desperately to get out because of how much she hated that thing. Adler always liked to think that they had that in common -- a fear of small, enclosed spaces. 
Even if she hated it, what wouldn’t he give for her to be in that carrier once more, to hear her incessant, annoying, high pitched meows, only for her to then ignore his existence out of spite for the next day. 
As he put the clutch in reverse, he sadly laughed, musing that he had agonized less over actual people that had died under his command. When Park, before she too had died, found out about Greasy (who was so aptly named due to her dirty, ragged appearance), she had joked often how Adler had effectively replaced genuine human interaction with the company of a cat -- the least likely suspect for a man such as him.
She was right though, Adler looked nothing like the part of a man who preferred cats or even any animal for that matter. He was scarred, gruff, burly. Any onlooker would assume that if anything,  he had owned a working, military breed dog trained to fend off any home invader. While it was true he did have a fondness for the canines he worked with in Vietnam, the company of a cat was far preferable. A fact that had been true for his entire life.
He had owned many cats throughout his life, mostly thanks to his mother, who before she had passed as well all those years ago, took in any stray that came begging for food. Their quiet and hard won affection had always been a comfort when his father would turn violent during his childhood. After he grew up, it had become essential for soothing his fears during the night when he had to relive everything. 
After his mother and Adler’s own son had passed away, both of cancer, he swore up and down that he simply didn’t have the capacity to love anyone, much less an animal, so deeply. It was difficult to love anything when everything you loved eventually died.
But Greasy changed that.
__
In the months following his divorce after the death of his son, life had been exceedingly lonely, even with the sympathetic company of Sims and his wife. Days blurred together, his body constantly set in motion but his mind and heart stuck on the day he cradled his son’s body in his arms, begging no one in particular to bring back the one good thing about him. His house, which once had been lively with the pitter patter of little James and the laughter of his now ex-wife, Farah, was devastatingly quiet. The only noise was the occasional clink of yet another bottle of whiskey and the click of a lighter. 
Eventually, after months of nothingness, Adler became not necessarily content with this new dynamic, but accepting of it. He had resigned himself to a life of emptiness, simply drinking the days away when he wasn’t on assignment. It’s how everyone else turned out in his line of work anyway. He would scoff at his own naivety, thinking he could be different, that he could be happy.
God was never that kind to men like him. 
Or so he thought. 
One night, when Sims became tired of Adler losing himself in his own grief and decided to at least get him to come out of the house, they came across little Greasy. He and Sims had gone over to some dive bar which has since shut down, and after a few drinks, Adler began reminiscing again. Quick to the punch, Sims took him to Burger Town.
The one constant in their adventures, no matter where in the world they were, there was always a Burger Town. It had become a small comfort to Adler, when he became tired of local, shit cuisines or military issued MRE’s. 
There, they discussed politics, how their lives were uniquely affected by the actions of politicians, many of whom will never have to witness the consequences of their actions. From Carter to Krushchev, arms races and proxy wars (many of which the pair had taken part in), a philosophical debate ensued as if their opinions actually mattered in the grand scheme of things. 
They don’t, and it was the one thing Adler and Sims agreed on wholeheartedly. The superpowers will do as they please with little regard to their own, no matter which economic ideology they enforce. It was a fact that had once bothered them, how inconsequential they were to the pages of history, despite however much they sacrificed for it. Keyword being “once”. 
Now, it didn’t matter and they didn’t care, and there was a certain freedom in that. Yes, they were still indentured servants unto the American government, but such acceptance gave way to a certain peace of mind. Peace of mind that no matter what, they will not endure the ire or the love of future generations. 
It provided some much needed indifference to their terrible actions done in the name of patriotism.
Such a conversation, one which they had many times, was enough to get Adler’s mind off of things, and Sims felt he was emotionally stable enough to be left alone. However, on the way to the car in the parking lot, Adler heard a meek little squeak and hiss. Glancing down, a feral kitten, covered in what he could only guess was old fryer grease, was looking back at him from his feet, ears down and paralyzed in fear, much like a deer in headlights.
Adler, without much thought, picked it up, cooing and shushing it as the poor kitten began to struggle and hiss and bite. Given its size, however, it couldn’t inflict much damage to the war-hardened Russell Adler. 
“Put the goddamn cat down, Doc.” Sims had hollered from the other side of the car. Adler simply shook his head.
“It’ll die if I leave it.” He said quietly, hushing the kitten and shoving it down the front of his shirt for some warmth for such a little thing. It was the middle of February, the Boston cold had surely taken its toll on the creature.  The grease against his bare chest made Adler squirm inwardly, it was certainly an unpleasant feeling, but he ignored it for the sake of the cat.
Sims raised his hands in defeat and the two climbed into the car, on the way to Adler’s apartment. It was mostly silent, save for the constant protests from the cat and Adler’s attempt to pacify it.
“It’s okay. I’ve got you.” He’d occasionally whisper and Sims would pretend not to hear. His words of comfort very closely echoed what he heard him say to Farah or James when either of them would break down. Always strong and steadfast, a staunch defender of those he loved. It was a title he hadn’t held in years, and one that was so sorely missed, as far as Sims could tell.
From the wheel, Sims looked down at the kitten, small and scrawny, a brown tabby whose fur was tousled and blue, angry eyes staring back. Call him crazy, but it reminded him of James. Eyes shrouded in blue with an unmistakable, stubborn will. Brown, wild hair that went off in all directions. At least, that’s what he had looked like before the cancer ravaged the poor toddler’s body. 
Normally, as his best and probably only real friend, Sims would’ve made fun of him for such a sudden lapse in his normal character, teasing him for going all soft. But he knew that was the one thing desperately needed in Adler’s life -- softness and the fragility that came with it. 
When the two arrived back, they went back and forth for a half hour debating names for the little thing. It was a female, so Sims offered pretty, girly names to match the wretched looking thing whilst Adler washed her in the kitchen sink, but there was not a single name that Sims offered that he thought fit her. 
“Maddie?”
“She doesn’t look like a Maddie to me.” Adler half smirked, the first Sims had seen in months.
“Lucy?” Sims suggested, and he scoffed.
“I’m not naming the cat after my dead mother.” He chuckled as Sims’ eyes went wide with embarrassment, but Adler brushed it off lightheartedly. He pulled her out of the sink, handing her to Sims who was prepared with a towel. 
She was shaking and shivering, but being as feral as she was, the kitten still kept fighting them tooth and claw. Not that such a small, defenseless thing could do much against their war hardened hands. Gingerly, Adler touched the grease mixed with fleas and dish soap that covered his sink as he went to clean it. 
“How about Greasy?” He said softly, musing at the disgusting state she was found in.
Sims guffawed. “Greasy? Now you’re just setting her up for failure.”
“It fits her.” He shrugged. 
“Greasy it is.” Sims said as he went to pat her on the head, to which she promptly bit him on the finger, drawing blood and also a laugh from Adler. A real one. One which he hadn’t heard since before James passed, since before the diagnosis. 
__
Adler, tears still in his eyes that he vehemently refused to let fall, glanced out the side of his window at a stoplight. Burger Town. He laughed dryly to himself. A cruel fucking joke from God. Or a sign he mused silently, not that Adler was the religious sort.
It was the same Burger Town where Adler and Sims had found Greasy fifteen years ago.  Without much thought, he pulled into the turn lane that led to the restaurant, muttering that he needed some comfort food after today, disregarding the sentimentality of the place. 
He hadn’t even realized he pulled into the exact spot where Sims had parked his car that night. Adler slammed the door shut, wiping his eyes and attempting to pull himself together. He ordered some fries and a milkshake and sat in their normal corner booth, pitifully shoving fries into his mouth as he gulped down the shake. Truthfully, his entire time in the restaurant was a mind-numbing blur that he couldn’t really remember.
However, he did recall that when he went back to his car, he took one last look down at the concrete, the exact spot where Adler had picked her up. It’s funny, the things he remembers and the things he can’t. Adler, for the life of him, cannot recall the color of his mother’s eyes, the model of his first car, or the name of his first girlfriend. But for whatever reason, Adler recalled, in remarkable detail, that crack in the pavement that Greasy was standing on when he first picked her up. It was raised slightly, and the imperfection in the poorly kept concrete extended about halfway through the marked parking spot, and weeds always grew along the length of it. 
In that crack, amongst the sharp and jutted weeds that grew there, there also sprouted a yellow dandelion. Adler finally let out a sob as he picked the flower, placing it gently upon Greasy’s empty carrier.
Did some bird flap its wings over in Asia? Did some force take you because I didn't pray? Every single thing to come has turned into ashes
__
To my baby girl, I loved you more than anything. You made everything better and I still struggle without you. I'm sorry I couldn't have done more to save you.
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skyler10fic · 27 days
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Arrangements
By Skyler10
Summary:
Princess Daisy has been matched with a suitor who can help her achieve her goal of peace between the natural magic and acquired magic realms.
Words: 1,805
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As if it wasn’t humiliating enough being the daughter of the queen of the natural magic realm and the “mad” prince consort, Daisy now had to meet the match that had been arranged for her.
The interview with the matchmaker had not gone well. Lady May was in no way sympathetic to Queen Jiaying’s insistence that Princess Daisy was forbidden from marrying outside the natural magic realm. Both the queen and Lady May were proud, stubborn women, and Daisy had to admit that Lady May standing up to the queen had impressed her. Daisy’s personal questions for the matchmaker went unanswered, but the princess just might have won Lady May over by the end of the skills demonstration. The day might have been a success in the end if it weren’t for the explosive rage of her father destroying some priceless pottery when he heard of the queen’s demand. It felt like a personal insult to him, as he was not of natural magic descent, but rather of the acquired magic realm.
Though Daisy knew that not so long ago, the mightiest heroes of the natural magic and acquired magic worlds often fought monsters together and were even great friends, she didn’t see a point in debating her parents about it again. Part of her resented both of her parents for their ideals. Acquired magic had violently damaged her father in his pursuit of power—always out of love and protection for his baby girl, he assured. And her mother’s prejudice, as well as that of the rest of the natural magic community, didn’t earn Daisy’s affection either. She wished there was a place where she could live in harmony with both parts of herself, and she told the matchmaker as much.
Though Lady May hardly seemed concerned with Daisy’s confessions, they must have landed on attentive ears, because Daisy now had a first meeting match lined up with someone from the acquired magic realm. The eldest niece of King Fury, of the Kingdom of Sword and Shield, in fact. Lady May explained these bare facts as she led Daisy up the palace path and into the expertly manicured garden where the other princess would be waiting.
“I get a girl?” Daisy asked Lady May, face lighting up with hope that it would at least not be some patriarchal man baby. Though a capable hot gentleman prince would have been equally pleasing, and she’d be lying if she said she hadn’t fantasized about it, plenty of princesses and duchesses had appeared in her imaginings as well.
“Not just any girl,” Lady May reproached as she opened the garden gate. “You’ll have to earn this one. She’s not going to be easy. But worth it, if you’re up for the challenge.”
“Are you daring me to fall in love, Lady May?” Daisy teased this woman who was quickly becoming her idol.
“I don’t create romance; I make matches for compatibility. And you two are probably the only people who could stand being married to each other. In fact, I might get in trouble for putting you two together. You might like each other too much.”
Daisy saw the quirk of a smile in Lady May’s expression. “Maybe this arrangement thing isn’t as bad as I thought. I’m sorry for yelling so much the first time we met.”
Lady May smiled properly this time, if only for a second. “Apology accepted, though your outburst was useful in the end. That’s how I knew you’d be the right fit. She’s still not thrilled, either.”
Daisy fidgeted with her hands as they walked and tried to steady her shaky breath. She knew this match was vital for the peace between the natural magic and acquired magic worlds. Her mother was lost in her prejudices, and her father to his rage and ramblings. But she paid attention to the news of the outside world and rumors among the citizens. Factions were developing into hatred, and hatred into violence. Skirmishes and isolated incidents were turning into border walls being built and talk of educating youth in combat magic earlier in their training. Even on their journey here to the winter palace through idyllic countryside, defenses were being fortified in both kingdoms. Without a series of prudent matches uniting the border kingdoms politically, war seemed certain.
Suffice it to say, this peace effort was not Queen Jiaying’s plan for her daughter’s political usefulness. A strong “pure” natural magic marriage that would produce an even stronger heir was key to the queen’s agenda. But with Lady May in charge of matchmaking, there was little Queen Jiaying could do short of outright forbidding it and escalating tensions too quickly.
So Daisy explored her options, partly out of duty and partly out of curiosity. Mostly out of desperation to find a path forward that didn’t involve being a pawn in war games between the realms.
There had to be more to life.
At the end of the path, Daisy walked under an archway and into a lush garden, and there she was—a blonde girl her age, pacing the garden as if she’d rather be anywhere else. Lady May stopped walking but gestured for Daisy to continue. Too late to have second thoughts now.
The other princess noticed Daisy approaching and froze. She gaped as she took in the sight of Daisy: pink dress with a deep V-neck, sparkling jewelry, and dark eyes already amused at her match’s surprise.
“You’re… Oh.” The princess stuck out a hand and Daisy shook it, careful not to laugh at the awkward gesture. “I wasn’t expecting you to be, well, you.”
“Let me guess, you thought you’d be meeting a meathead prince who thinks too much of himself and wants you as a trophy wife? Or were you more afraid of a sickly princess who can’t get out a sentence without apologizing? Yeah, I’ve been to court too. Dating sucks.”
That served to break the ice and they both relaxed.
“I’m Carol.” The blonde smiled and curtsied. Daisy noticed her narrow “skirt” was really a cleverly tailored pair of trousers. Intriguing.
“Just Carol?” Daisy asked.
“Ugh, okay, Lady Carol Susan Jane Danvers, princess of Shield and Sword, avenger of the skies, blah blah blah.”
Daisy curtsied back. “Lady Daisy Skye Johnson, princess of Lai Shi, um, quake-er of earth? What is an avenger of the skies, anyway?”
Carol demonstrated, glowing slightly as she lifted off the ground with minimal effort, floating above Daisy and holding fire in her palms brighter than any Daisy had ever seen.
“And you?” Carol returned, floating back to Daisy’s side. “Quake-er?”
“Yeah, I don’t really have a cool title. I just do this.” Daisy extended her hand and focused on a citrus tree across the garden. She picked one far away and in a grove, just to show off her precision and control. The branches shook as bright orange fruit fell to the ground.
“Handy.” Carol cocked an eyebrow. Daisy took this as a challenge, just as May had said impressing Carol would be.
“Fine, but this is on you.” Daisy stood on a stone bench to see over the garden walls. She picked an uninhabited hill, just rocks and trees and mud. She breathed in and sensed the vibrations of the hillside, then extended just one finger. A thin line of the hillside turned to calamity as rocks and trees tumbled down, echoing throughout the valley. Birds relocated with a commotion, annoyed that their resting place had just become a snowless ski run. Daisy didn’t stop there, though. She picked a nice round boulder and rolled it around the grassy valley, dancing it in circles until Carol laughed and admitted Daisy’s powers were impressive.
“I don’t just roll rocks around, though.” Daisy shrugged and jumped down from the bench. “Just didn’t want to mess up anything in here.”
Carol glanced around the garden. “Yeah, not exactly helping world peace to destroy a shared palace.”
“I was thinking more that it’s so beautiful, but sure, yes, that too.” Daisy winked and then sombered. “So I guess you know what this is really about?”
Carol sighed and frowned. “King Fury thinks it would be the best route to peace. But he’s not forcing me. I said I wanted to help, and he said you’d be the one to understand.”
“I met him, a long time ago,” Daisy affirmed. “Still fresh out of training, in my first year of really being an adult at court and in meetings and all of that. He seems like a cool guy.”
“He is.” Carol stared off into the distance. “He just has some hard decisions to make right now. We really can’t afford a war, not with all the monsters of the north.”
Daisy sat up straighter. “Wait, what? I thought all that lived up north were like, bears and deer. Maybe wolves and stuff, but monsters?”
Carol huffed out a laugh. “Ice monsters. I started a magic forge with my light powers for weapons, and we have our best firepower users at the front, but the younger monsters are evolving to become fire retardant, and now our southern borders are fighting with natural magic users from your kingdom, and Uncle— I mean, King Fury isn’t as young as he once was so now our council of advisors is competing for the most blatant power grab and they all want to marry me and my cousin Princess Maria off to their sons so they can control us. So we’ve got that going for us. Really attractive match here, right?”
Carol’s tone by the end was bitter in its self-deprecation. She wasn’t holding back. This desperation was as real for her as it was for Daisy.
“That sucks, I’m sorry. I didn’t know about the north. If it helps, my dad’s literally crazy and my mom, well, you know.” Daisy shrugged. “Perfectly manageable amount of sea monsters and cave trolls though! And a few dragons, but we’ve mostly worked out a deal with them.”
“Dragons? Really?” Carol blinked and then tilted her head in thought. “Do you think they can fly in freezing temperatures? And maybe enjoy melting some evil snowmen? Though by snowmen, I mean sentient icicle creatures taller than a barn.”
“Yeah, I figured,” Daisy assured with laugh. “And as far as the dragons go, they might! They fly in the snowy mountains all the time. We could ask.”
Just as Daisy was about to clarify that by “we” she was implying Carol come home with her to explain the situation, Lady May reappeared.
“The tea is ready in the sunroom. This way.” Lady May turned and returned down the path, not waiting for the princesses to join her. They exchanged glances and hurried after their matchmaker, already planning on ways to bring peace to their kingdoms together.
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aurumacadicus · 1 year
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Fictober 27/31 -- “That’s not why we’re doing this.”
Back on my OC bullshit now that some obligations are done. Was gonna go with something super angsty, but Mr. Cheung has made it clear (and Lottie is well aware) that Senator Stern and his cronies just want mutants dead. It feels like beating a dead horse to insist upon it. Anyway Lottie is so stupid (affectionate) and the nosiest people on the team (Steve, Natasha, Tony) are also so stupid (affectionate). It’s long so look out for under the cut!
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Tony frowned and crossed his arms. “This feels duplicitous.”
“When has that stopped you?” Steve asked before he could stop himself, and then hastily added, “That came out wrong. I mean normally you don’t think twice about how others feel about—oh my god.”
“Just stop talking,” Tony sighed, but he also sounded a little sympathetic, too. “So, just to get this straight, we’re hacking into some rando’s website to check out hidden art of Lottie because… he’s suspiciously still panting lions into landscapes?”
Steve scowled. “That’s not why we’re doing this.”
“We’re doing this to find out if Daniel Winston is in love with Lottie,” Natasha added helpfully.
“That’s not what I said,” Steve told her sharply, and then looked back at Tony, desperately willing him to believe him. “That’s not what I said.”
“Is it what you meant?” Tony asked. Then he scowled. “Wait, you talked to Natasha about this before me?!”
“He thought I could hack the website by myself, but I can’t,” Natasha answered with a shrug. She held up her tablet, showing off the website that Steve had found but wasn’t attached to Daniel Winston’s professional page or his name at all. “But there’s literally nothing here except pictures and ‘love and healing to Charlie W’ on it. I can’t even get data from the pictures themselves.”
Tony snatched the tablet from her, peering at the website, then looked back up at her, disgruntled. “So, we’re meddling to figure out if this Daniel Winston is in love with her for… what reason?”
“I just wanted to check if it was the same guy the entire time or if he’s being ripped off by someone else,” Steve answered.
Tony nodded, then turned his gaze on Natasha, raising an eyebrow. She blinked back at him slowly, then simply replied, “I’m nosy.”
“Well, at least you’re honest,” Tony said as Steve spluttered at her in offense. He turned, waving a hand up at the ceiling. “JARVIS, what can you tell me about this Daniel Winston guy?”
“Just a moment, Sir.” There was a long pause as several screens popped up, images and websites flashing too quickly for the human eye to make out. Finally, JARVIS said, “From what I can gather in a preliminary search, Daniel Joseph Winston lived just down the street from the Weber homestead. He has three older siblings, one of whom was in the same grade as Ms. Weber’s older sister, Laura. He also has two younger siblings. He was in the same grade as Ms. Weber and her twin sister, sometimes even in the same class. There are several pictures of he, Ms. Weber, and a variety of friends. He started painting in seventh grade and eventually won a scholarship to the California College of the Arts and has been painting ever since. He has had some commercial success, and has even painted two murals in their hometown.”
“Huh,” Tony said, staring at a mural of an orchard. “No lions in this one.”
Natasha pointed to the likeness of a person walking away from the viewer, a basket on their hip. “Cat.”
“Cat,” Tony agreed when he noticed the little whiskered face peeking out of the basket.
“We don’t know that it’s a stand-in for a lion,” Steve began.
“Quite the contrary, Captain Rogers,” JARVIS cut in. “Unless it was a commission with strict specifications, Mr. Winston has always found a way to put a cat in the painting.”
Steve stared up at one of JARVIS’s cameras, astounded. “Oh.”
“It appears to be a signature of his,” JARVIS added.
“Huh,” Tony said again, reaching out to the glowing screen to swipe to a different picture. Sure enough, there was another cat, peeking out from some bushes.
“He’s totally in love with her,” Natasha decided.
Both Tony and Steve swiveled to look at her, stunned. “How do you,” Steve began, then shook his head. He didn’t want to understand. He was bad at hints anyway. He shouldn’t be getting involved in someone else’s (equally non-existent) love life.
Tony crossed his arms. “Okay, and? What do we do with that information now?”
Natasha turned from looking at some other paintings, frowning. “Why would we do anything? Lottie either doesn’t know or doesn’t care, and Daniel apparently is fine with the status quo.” She crossed her arms as well and looked back at the paintings. “Like I said. I’m nosy.”
“Nosy enough to figure out if Lottie doesn’t know or doesn’t care?” Tony asked with just a hint of hope in his voice.
“Eh,” Natasha answered, waving one hand in a half-and-half manner.
Steve turned his gaze back to the pictures of paintings as well as they began to bicker about the level of Natasha’s nosiness (and, somehow, her willingness to stab someone in the neck?). Some of the cats in the paintings were obvious. Others were hidden inside of things, like leaves in a tree, or a shadow within shadows in an alley. Things that might get missed on first and even second glances. There was even a ‘find the Winston cat’ website where people could send in clues to find the harder-seen ones. Apparently, he’d taken it as a fun challenge and had done a painting that had ten separate cats in it. So far, he’d only confirmed nine found.
“She doesn’t know,” Steve finally decided, taking a step to the side to view the painting from a different angle.
Natasha and Tony paused in their bickering to look at him in surprise. “How do you know?” Tony finally asked when Natasha just raised her eyebrows expectantly.
Steve motioned at the picture. One cat was obvious, but the others were well-hidden—in the grooves of a trashcan, or the dirt on the ground, or the pattern of the bricks in the background. But one thing all of the cats had in common were a letter, hidden against their coloring much more deftly than they were hidden in plain sight. “The tenth cat. He’s spelled out ‘Charlie.’”
Natasha and Tony came over to look at what he was seeing. “That’s cute,” Tony finally decided. “Sad, but cute.”
“Has he had any other girlfriends?” Natasha asked, glancing up at one of JARVIS’s cameras.
“None that I can see,” JARVIS replied. “But plenty of friendships. He does not seem unhappy with his life, from what I can gather.”
“Weird,” Steve muttered, frowning.
Natasha turned to scowl at him. “That’s pretty rich, coming from the king of waiting too long.”
“I did not come here to be attacked,” Steve answered, fist coming up more on instinct than anything.
Natasha lifted her own fists, apparently just as ready to throw down.
Tony rolled his eyes, deciding to ignore them, mostly, it seemed. “Don’t engage in fisticuffs near my blowtorches.” He took a step closer to one of the screens, where a young man had his arm slung over what looked like a younger version of Lottie, surrounded by several people, baskets of raspberries at their feet. Everyone was looking at the camera, except for him—he was looking at Lottie. “…I’m gonna tell her,” he said after a long pause.
Natasha turned her scowl on him instead. “That’s not something you should insert yourself in.”
“I do not respect that opinion coming from you,” Tony replied, crossing his arms over his chest and frowning at her severely.
Natasha scowled at him a little longer, then sighed with a small nod of agreement, shrugging in a ‘what can you do’ kind of way.
“We still shouldn’t stick our noses in this,” Steve said, frowning. “If she doesn’t know, and he hasn’t told her, who are we to expose his feelings?”
“Ugh, the voice of reason,” Tony grumbled, huffing petulantly. “Fine, but I’m gonna be insufferable about this.”
“God,” Steve sighed, lifting his hand to pinch the bridge of his nose. “I’m sorry I even came down here.”
Natasha scoffed at him, loudly. “No you’re not. I’m a delight. Tony is too, most of the time.”
“I am,” Tony agreed, brightening up immediately at the praise.
Steve gaped at him, stunned, and wondered if this team would ever stop confusing him. He was sincerely beginning to doubt it.
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whenthechickencry · 6 months
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Umineko EP3. Replay Part 2
Obviously, it's at least partly just damage control but Natsuhi takes the role of Kinzo sooo often. Sad to basically headcanon someone who hated you into someone who understood you.
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Woah that was throwing Shannon to the wolves rather unprompted.... also she didn't need to put on a dress at all!
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Been a while since I started this chapter so I got shocked by the Kuwadorian hint but I guess the episode started with Baby Beatrice on Kuwadorian anyways.
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In other words, stop trying to look for an out Battler!
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Jeez Natsuhi, little you know they have the authority to dismiss you out of the island if they wanted.
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Interesting... Didn't realize Eva had any thoughts about Beatrice besides thinking she was bullshit but I guess it's not hard to imagine for someone whose efforts were constantly denied due to being a woman that seeing a female ruler of the island appear would be something they look forwards to....
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Um ah uh yeah sure
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The way Eva switched to a sad face in this conversation is pretty interesting to me - it seems she's pretty sympathetic to Kinzo's wife... no one else seems to have much an opinion on her.
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The scenes that draw attention to how Beatrice's mythology was created are pretty interesting. A lot of Kumasawa's stories are for that purpose too.
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You are trying so fucking hard for someone that doesn't like you Natsuhi.
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Natsuhi frames a lot of it as an offense to Kinzo and whatever but I am pretty sure a lot of her heartened defense is her own insecurities about being a politically kidnapped wife.
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Oh yeah, the game just says this directly later lol - also with how defensive she's being I think she might honestly suspect Krauss of having an affair but that's mostly just my interpretation I don't think anything in the game hints at it.
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Yeah. such as already having won the headship lol.
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This is exactly what happened when everyone 'acknowledged' Beatrice at the church during ep2 as well! Obviously besides asking for the headship - they already have that. but they did force the siblings to acknowledge her using her gold.
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The obvious intent of this scene is to hint you at towards how they convince people to be accomplices - just throw money at them.
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That's surprisingly harsh from Hideyoshi, though I think Eva probably needed to be told stuff like that more. Eva and Natsuhi are pretty obviously the only people that remotely give a shit about headship, Krauss' ego would be hurt by no longer being head too but he isn't aggressively defensive of it like those 2. They still would trade it for money, though, at least with enough convincing from their partners.
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Not really, her goal was to get caught by Battler! Or anyone really but preferably Battler.
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Kyrie's not really wrong here, though, when she added that condition she seemed to consider that basically a miracle - in reality, it was solved like 10 minutes into her plan.
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Oh Battler - Ronove and Beatrice are trying to guide you so hard but you refuse anyways. Battler really is kind of a naive sweet child at this point.
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"You are building a connected theory instead of making shit up on the spot! Good for you Battler!"
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Beatrice is giving away a bit of her game here though - she's no longer forcing Battler into the magic theory but into the one of the 18 is the culprit theory!
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They had a whole ass tangent before anyone even brought up witches again lmfao. Forgetting your role here a bit Beato!
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Yeah, you are getting it Battler.
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Battler's finally realizing the red is more for his benefit than anyone else's!!
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Hahaha.... I am sad now....
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Kinzo prevents that red haha, that's probably a little frustrating for Beato. Though I also think she wouldn't have repeated it anyways because giving him the harsh truth rn would probably break Battler.
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Not a horrible assessment of what witches are, though an unsympathetic one.
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It's pretty weird contrast to see this and ep2 Rosa - though I guess in that case she physically saw Beatrice in person and a couple hours later she explained the situation and in this case she didn't, and in episode 1 they didn't take the letter seriously at all so there wasn't time for her trauma to flare up again (or it did off screen)
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The fact that Kuwadorian Beatrice doesn't even seem 100% sure Kinzo is her father because of his delusions and gaslighting is so heartbreaking - she just wants to know basic details about herself and is denied.
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Beatrice is pretty clearly talking about both her life as Yasu and about her mother here I think.
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"Cage of flesh" is really sad wording when you think about what she felt about her body....
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dontbethatguy20 · 2 years
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Request:
Appearance wise, I'm short 5'. I'm alil on the thicker side , but that's cause there's a nice layer of muscle beneath. I'm kindove alternative. First glance you'd think I'm really girly because I love my little skirts and dressing well, but I love roughhousing. I don't mind getting dirty. In fact, I have this sense of satisfaction when people are surprised about that part of me. One time time this guy was being real cocky and dickish when I asked if he wanted to arm wrestle. I ended up somehow flipping him over a table. Really, I still wonder how that was possible. I won in a second flat and we had a good laugh. I like sparing with swords and rods. I can twirl knives really neatly, it's something I picked up as a kid. I know a small chunk of fighting styles because of my brothers and because I'm flexible and dorky of course I love to add a little more of an unregulated pizzazz to them. In real life I'd probably never use that anyways so might as well just have fun with all this useless knowledge. I love drawing and painting as well as writing. I'm a good singer, just real shy displaying my talents at first. Im competitive that's for sure. I have a strong sense of empathy. Sometimes I feel other people's pain a little too much, and it makes me feel like I have to help them. Ive been told I'm stupid for it and that's hurts because I feel like we, as people should have open hearts to others. a kindness that could cost us nothing could mean the world to a stranger. We should have compassion for them. I think I have a draw to the damned and the unwanted. I went on and told a little too much but that's the rundown. I was hoping for apex. Maybe romantic? Maybe friendly? Idk I'm curious. Thank you for your time!
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I match you with fuse!!
He loves the way your style and how different it is from what other styles he's seen from his life time. He also like that fact of your clothing " bring girly" is kinda opposite of your personality
He's honestly glad you don't mind getting dirty considering his life style. He is also the type of person to wrestle. If you ever have kids he will wrestle with them a lot
If he was there with the arm wrestling match if would be surprise and loki intimidated a bit by you, not like there's anything wrong with that.
You seem to be confident and he loves that about you, he's the type of person to say "confidence is key"
He thinks the sparing thing is interesting and might ask you to teach him. He will probobly be terrible but he learns quickly.
When he first sees you painting,drawing, or writing he would be a little surprised to say t he least. You like to do rough things but like soft things too? He just didn't expect it is all. He would love to watch sometimes.
When he firsts hear you sing he's pretty amazed, he would be like "damn, why are you so talented"
He loves how sympathetic you are, he thinks there's not enough sympathetic people in the world. And He would try to help the people you help.
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whileiamdying · 28 days
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‘Beyond the Wall’ Review: A Grueling Guided Tour of an Iranian Police-State Nightmare
A suicidal blind man and an epileptic fugitive mother become physically and psychologically trapped in Vahid Jalilvand's bruisingly assaultive polemic against Iranian state oppression.
By Jessica Kiang Sep 8, 2022 11:31am PT
Nobody emerges unscathed — least of all the audience — from Vahid Jalilvand‘s highly effective, deeply unpleasant “Beyond the Wall,” a morbidly violent allegory for the effects of state-sponsored trauma on the individual that places contemporary Iranian society somewhere on the map between the sixth and seventh circles of hell. A strange combination of intricate, almost sci-fi-inflected psychological thriller, splenetic social-breakdown broadside and two-hander (torture) chamber drama, it is an exercise in bravura filmmaking applied to a story so relentlessly grim you might wish it were a little less well-made, giving you an excuse to look away. In his 2017 film “No Date No Signature” (which won Best Director and Best Actor in Venice’s Horizons sidebar), Jalilvand pictured a stratified society teetering on the edge of legality and morality; here, however, it has toppled entirely into the abyss. The only way is down, and the filmmaker is bringing you with it.
These uncompromising intentions are signalled by an opening salvo that would surely be any other film’s brutalizing emotional nadir, as we’re introduced to Ali (“No Date, No Signature” star Navid Mohammadzadeh) in the commission of an attempted suicide. No mere “cry for help,” it is not just the act itself but the manner he has chosen that is shocking: In the dripping damp of a dingy bathroom, Ali wraps a soaking T-shirt around his head, ties a plastic bag over that and shoves his battered hands down behind the shower pipe, effectively cuffing his own arms behind him while he screams and suffocates. The scene is such a trial to witness, it’s possible to miss the brief, disorienting, semi-subliminal inserts where it appears the violence is being done to him by someone else — or to think you have imagined them. 
It is only an insistent pounding on his front door that brings Ali back from the brink. Breaking the pipe and tearing off his plastic shroud, he shuffles, gasping, dripping, broken, to answer it. The men at the door inform him that a woman wanted for a heinous crime has fled custody and was last spotted on the fire escape of his forbiddingly enormous apartment building. They suspect him — for some reason more than all the other residents — of harboring her. Ali shoos the men away, but we know that the woman, Leila (Diana Habibi), has indeed infiltrated his home and is cowering beneath a countertop, hands clasped over her bleeding, chapped lips to stifle her sobs. Ali has not seen her, because he does not see anything much. His failing eyesight is not just a temporary symptom of his recent near-death encounter, but a condition brought on from an earlier trauma, and it is degenerating faster than it should, as Ali refuses to use the treatments prescribed by sympathetic doctor Nariman (Amir Aghaee) on his frequent house calls. 
It takes a painfully long time — and rather too many sequences of Ali feeling his way down his apartment’s yeasty, peeling walls, lighting cigarettes with palsied hands and peering at a mysterious letter he’s received — but eventually, as must happen, Ali discovers Leila. She is, and remains, terrified throughout but in Ali she has lucked upon the one man in this whole building (perhaps even the one man in all of Iran) who wants, obscurely, to help her. It might be because, given his initial state, he has little to lose. But perhaps it is something else, something like a shot at redemption for the unknown sins of a past that more frequently forces itself into the present as Ali and Leila’s predicament worsens.
It takes a painfully long time — and rather too many sequences of Ali feeling his way down his apartment’s yeasty, peeling walls, lighting cigarettes with palsied hands and peering at a mysterious letter he’s received — but eventually, as must happen, Ali discovers Leila. She is, and remains, terrified throughout but in Ali she has lucked upon the one man in this whole building (perhaps even the one man in all of Iran) who wants, obscurely, to help her. It might be because, given his initial state, he has little to lose. But perhaps it is something else, something like a shot at redemption for the unknown sins of a past that more frequently forces itself into the present as Ali and Leila’s predicament worsens.
The tricksiness of the finale, however, does somewhat undercut the seriousness of the film’s more intriguing ideas about how a prison made of concrete can never so comprehensively constrain us as the prisons of the body and the mind. Ali’s failing eyesight, his nerve-damaged hands, his stooped posture and proliferating scars, as well as Leila’s epilepsy and her son’s muteness, can be read as a fleshy physiological allegory for state violence and oppression, as damage to the body social manifesting in damage to actual bodies. But the metaphor only really works up to the point when Jalilvand’s overly complicated plotting comes round on itself. In any case, after more than two hours of seizures, crashes, riots, shootouts, beatings, and endlessly relived trauma, some of the finer points of the movie’s philosophy may escape you, just as you, too, are longing for escape.  
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lowellhq · 2 years
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The Choice
3 September 2022 Lowell Campus
The cooling of the summer days. The shortening length of daylight. The crunch of leaves underfoot. The mugs of cider and the cups of spiced lattes. These are the things many look forward to as fall arrives on the doorstep of Portsmith following the beginning of a new term at Lowell Academy. Students and faculty usually return refreshed and recharged. Ready to tackle the challenges of the year ahead of them. The Order of the Primrose is no different.
With the apparent lack of identifiable activity from the Order, Lowell had been lulled into a disquieted complacency. Yet many understood that the rumored secret society had gone too far in their quest to rid Lowell of Scholarship Students for the Order to truly be gone. Instead, they laid in wait. Watching.
Whispers among Scholarship students and trusted allies presented an untested but trusted idea that Halloween would likely be the primary occasion for worry. As September ushered in its first days, their assurances only grew more concrete that at least the days leading up to the annual Masquerade would be safe.
They were mistaken.
Perhaps the Order’s stark return was prompted by the seating of the new Student Council upon a recount triggered by an obscure bylaw of the Student Council charter. This bylaw allowed the challenging of election results from any faculty member and would trigger an automatic recount.
BETO AYALA challenged the credibility of the Student Council election results after no scholarship students won a seat. This challenge led to the discovery of a few hundred votes for some scholarship candidates. Headmaster Blackwood gave a humble apology and noted that while he had been away there was a lot of administrative shuffling around Lowell’s offices to accommodate for George and Magnus running the school. He said that he had earnestly counted the votes he’d known about upon his return and promised these new votes would be honored.
New this year to the Student Council for Dominants are SAFFORD LOWELL, sympathetic to Scholarship students of all classifications, TRISTAN KNOWLES who is a scholarship student himself, and Legacy write-in candidate SEBASTIAN ST. CLAIR who appears to be trying to make up for the embarrassment of being stripped of Lacrosse Captain while he tended to his health.
For Switches, SEONG MIN-JUN, long known to love power and wield it as deftly as he wields his foil. Newcomer NIKOLAUS KOBLE seemingly had support from the Headmaster himself and who won despite arriving not long before the election started.
Joining submissives on the Council is the Charter student, SHEN LAI, who is poised to outperform all the other submissives in the school and be the first to enter a claim if he seals the deal with St. Clair. JAMIE WHITLEY, a Legacy with ties to many powerful Legacy families shares the mantle of representing submissive handling of authority. Because of the mishandling of votes and mistrust in the integrity of the results, OAK WILDE was granted a position as an alternate council member. He must show up to every session to stay abreast of all Council happenings, but will only step in to vote if Shen or Jamie cannot make it to a vote or must otherwise recuse themselves in matters in which they are personally invested.
Further, a new regulation stipulates that submissive members of Student Council must cast their votes together before it will count toward any decision. This means that of the two submissive seats available on the council, unanimous votes will be required if the submissive students wish to have a say in Council proceedings. This teaches the power of cooperation and ensures they understand the gravity of the power with which they’ve been entrusted.
The presence of Scholarship students on the Council alone would likely have been enough to enrage the Order but having Scholarship sympathizers on Council who could vote alongside Scholarship students only worsened matters. It prompted not just action but seemingly a focus on one singular question. Loyalty. Who was giving their loyalty to the right side? And what was the penalty for not choosing correctly?
As fall began, old acquaintances had the chance of renewing social ties and building bridges. If NIKOLAUS thought it strange that a certain old friend was fast warming up to him, he didn’t show it much. The Order, looking to test the loyalty of FELIX, tasked the newcomer to get close with his old flame and rekindle friendly feelings. They asked for something simple…keep an ear to the ground and report back to the Order via a drop site in the library for passing messages. If he proved useful, they would reward Felix.
They let Felix know that they had someone watching him. That he wouldn’t want to doublecross them. That their friendship could be mutually beneficial. The trick would be to learn what Felix wanted most. The Order would dangle it in front of Felix. Bait. Bargaining chip. It didn’t matter. They often got what they wanted.
Including from ETHAN FORELLI. When Sebastian St. Clair went looking into the print shop which produced the photos of Oak which they used to send a veiled threat toward Oak, the Order realized quickly that they would need a fall man. They tasked Ethan with finding the perfect person to pin it on. Someone believable where not a lot of questions would be asked. Someone that could maybe take the fall for more than one thing.
MIN-JUN received a loyalty test too. As a Legacy and someone with a cunning knack for negotiation and retribution, they asked Min to ensure Ethan followed through on framing someone. If he didn’t, Min was to let the Order know and they would do whatever it took to believably frame Ethan for the crimes. Min would be the one to frame Ethan if Forelli failed.
Luckily for Ethan he happened upon someone who was perfect.
IAN MCCALLISTER had a boyfriend in his early years at Lowell who had been known to brag about his affiliation with a secret group who had the inside scoop on all the most advantageous claims. This secret group was rumored to be the Order of the Primrose. Ian happened to be drunk and drugged on Halloween according to his infirmary intake forms. Ian had been acting erratically and displayed a confused memory. He could easily have done something rash during the Halloween Masquerade. He had previously hooked up with Sebastian several times and was likely jealous of his tryst with Oak. This may have caused Ian to target him on Halloween, sending Tristan away so he couldn’t protect his friend Oak, and spiking the punch so that people would be distracted during the whole ordeal. His continued jealousy caused him to choose a new Lacrosse captain so Sebastian would see his mistakes, and when that wasn’t enough, Ian learned a few tricks from the photographer he was sleeping with and decided to send a veiled threat to Sebastian about Oak with the photographs.
This is the story Ethan was to paint in the form of planted evidence and the starting of poisonous rumor. The only thing left when the time came to unveil the evidence and the rumor was to have someone discover his ties to the old Order and bring him before the newly seated Council to be investigated.
For his part SEBASTIAN ST. CLAIR isn’t sure how he got his council seat. He’s not certain if he can interpret the signs right. But the charging of Ian in these crimes of passion seem to be a punishment for choosing someone else to replace Sebastian as Lacrosse Captain. This is made all the more suspicious by the fact that the man chosen to replace him, ELLIOT WARNER, is suddenly being sued by his ex-boyfriend’s family. Rumors are that Elliot falsified his admission records to conceal his guilt in the death of Elliot’s former boyfriend Benji. Could this be coincidence or could it be another consequence of slighting Sebastian?
Sebastian wonders if the Order is trying to curry favor with him so he doesn’t look into them further or if they are setting up in the perfect position to fall on Lowell’s sword if he messes with them again? The charging of Ian is flimsy at best and the investigation into Warner leaves a vacant spot for the Captaincy in Lacrosse. It could never come out that Sebastian knew Ian didn’t do the crime he’s accused of or else the Order would frame him next for being the very person to orchestrate the whole thing in his mission for power and respect. His getting appointed under the circumstances of the vote re-count when his name wasn’t initially on the ballot would be enough to make people suspect Sebastian used his Order connections to gain the seat and punish those who wronged him. So Sebastian is caught between wanting the power he’s got in order to protect his social standing, and knowing that at any moment, one wrong move could send him into a dark room on the end of questions he can’t answer.
‘Play nicely and so will we,’ They seem to be saying. In this they are requiring loyalty from Sebastian.
The Order isn’t playing nicely with IGNACIO WESTINGHOUSE however. It’s hard to say whether they’re punishing him for spending time with GRAHAM MONTGOMERY or if they simply wish to twist the knife with Elliot Warner, but planting photos of Graham and Ignacio out at Gaze’s Fetish Night seems to do both at once. The rumors started as soon as the photos were published in a small but growing SCANDAL SHEET which is now circulating Lowell and Portsmith. The students were quick to jump to conclusions and their eyes told them what they wanted to see. Ignacio stepping out on Elliot with Graham. Being disloyal to him. Precisely in Elliot’s most turbulent hour of need.
CAMILO MORALES was sorely surprised to learn in that same article that this isn’t the first man Ignacio entertained. ANTON MARTINEZ seemed to have cozied up to him before he left. The two were no strangers.
Just the same way that IHSAN DEMIRCI is no stranger to Tristan and DR. MAGNUS HOLM. While it was always clear to everyone that Magnus and Tristan were a couple, it was never clear just how close Ihsan was to both of them, especially while Ihsan was still posing as his deceased Dominant twin Sinan.
Yet the three seemed to have taken a vacation together and Tristan was seen helping Ihsan move into the submissive dorms with little confusion. It appeared to anyone paying enough attention that the three were close and that this transition was no surprise. Could it be that they knew of Ihsan’s deception all along and concealed it?
Long looking for a way to target Magnus and oust him for the dual purpose of opening a new counseling position and single handedly dealing a blow to the main source of support for scholarship students, the Order took action.
One evening IHSAN returned to find a heart etched by knife into his door with three sets of initials inside it. TK + ID + MH. Rose petals were scattered around the doorframe as though on a wedding night. ‘Don’t let our invitation get lost in the mail’ said an empty save-the-date invitation. Whether they were guessing at impending future claims or implying they knew of any brewing plans, the Order wanted everyone to see. It would be up to the rumor mill to try to guess the people whose initials were in that heart.
In one final sweeping act…it was during a back to school bonfire that the Order summarily announced their presence. At the height of the gathering, the acreage next to the main building lit up as the outline of a primrose erupted in flame. A message burned above it as smoke billowed in the air: Leave or Suffer.
A gauntlet was being thrown, a choice presented. Legacies or Scholarships. Loyalty or Sacrifice. Love or Success. Leaving or staying. None in Lowell would be spared having to answer.
FIN.
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gogolstoelicker · 2 years
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Dorm leader with Komaeda Nagito! My that born with a extreme good luck and extreme bad luck, thus had a sad life for example: they and their parents boarded an airplane after having a vacation.However, the plane ended up being hijacked. Both the hijacker and mc parents were killed in front of them after a small meteor crashed into the airplane, leaving them to inherit all of their parent's fortune and become free to do whatever they wished, as he had no other living relatives.
Dorm Leaders with a Nagito!like MC
warning(s): uh parent's death(?), kidnapping
notes: I LOVE U FOR ASKING THIS🤬NAGITO IS ONE OF MY FAVORITE
Born with extreme bad and good luck, your life is quite the adventurous one. However, that luck of yours comes in handy at times.
You first came off as a polite, friendly and an easygoing individual yet somewhat insecure. Although you claim to be a pessimist, you often appear unusually carefree. You lack tact and occasionally says awkward, strange, and unsettling things without realizing it.
Riddle:
he kind of likes u!
you're polite and friendly and tried your best not to break the rules and he thinks that's something all heartslabyul's residents should learn!
though, your insecurities upsets him a little
like you're already so great so what's there to be insecure about?
that luck of yours made him worry a whole lot
like um, what happened to your parents again??😥
and what do you mean you got kidnapped once and won thr lottery after????
AND WHY ARE SO CASUAL ABOUT IT
and the way u got hurt during his overblot but managed to save him BECAUSE you got hurt made him feel kind of guilty
but you say it's fine since you're just a stepping stone for his 'hope' to shine brighter
your talk about hope confused him and made him sweat a little
but he does understands that it's probably the only thing you can cling to with all of the things your extreme bad and good luck did
he told you off a few times if the things you said are too unsettling
you don't seem to realize it's weird and unsettling
so dw, riddle got yo back!!
he'll help you in what you should and should not say!
Leona:
ah, a goody two shoes
he doesn't care about u at first
sometimes when he heard you rant about you being worthless, he just
sighs and roll in his sleep
I'm sorry but if you're expecting some comforting from him, then I'll
have to give you up, had to let you down
(YES GET RICKROLLED)
whenever u say smth weird and unsettling, he just brushed it off honestly
he doesn't really care much lmao
your extreme luck made him worry
well congrats⁉️you made THEE leona kingscholar worried‼️
he once saw you fall down the stairs and when you went to the infirmary, you found LOTS of money
he's really worried
I've said that two times now, he's actually worried
now three
or was it four
finds out what happens with your parents and that one time you got kidnapped
dude???😥😥😥he can uh pay for ur therapy if u want?
Azul:
😁👓an easy target, he sees
a scammer's dream come true they said LMAO
i mean, not lmao
you're insecure? well would u like to buy his potion where he'll cure it??😁😁
you're saying strange stuff and didn't even realize it? well he can make a potion for that too!😁
your luck is making ur life go upside down? not to worry, bc he, azul ashengrotto, is here to safe the day with his potion!!
that luck of yours is really handy honestly
like that time y'all had to fight floyd and jade while trying to steal the picture
you somehow got to hit the tweels and gave all of you time to escape
well i mean uh
at least you're able to help your friends?? but in what cost
when you tell him how ur parents are killed in a plane crash(?), he feels kind of sympathetic to you
family is important to him so he can't imagine what he'll do in your situation
but he heard how u won a lottery after u got kidnapped and went 👓☁☁
pls pretend thats a thinking cloud
would u like to work with him?😊 he's sure he can make GREAT use of that luck of yours
Kalim:
he's friendly too so y'all got along well
probably kins each other lmfao
the difference is that the other one have a family and the other doesn't /hj
and another is more optimistic and probably barely have any insecurities
actually nvm *unkins them from kinning each other
doesn't really understands why are you insecure but he tries his best to comfort and support u!
did you just say you're worthless? WRONG. kalim is here to tell you just how you're worth more than anything!
when you told him how your parents died and you inherited all of their wealth bc you have no other relatives, he feels sad for you
he have lots of relatives and he definitely cares about all of them, so he can't imagine what it would felt like to lose them
so honestly he's the best person to go to if you want some good comforting!!
that extreme bad and good luck of yours made him quite curious
it sounds dangerous but it also sounds kind of fun!
now he kind of wants it...
oh no someone pls stop him(2)
jamil:
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doesn't really care when you say some weird or awkward stuff since everyone have their own unique quirks, that's just yours! so he's fine with it!
Vil:
he likes that you're polite
at least you kind of fit the bare minimum of his standards for everyone
you ranting that you're worthless makes his head hurts a little
he'll have to polish up your self confidence🤨
you got some potential so don't even try to decline
whenever you said weird, unsettling stuff, he'll tell you off
can't afford to have you hurting your own reputation amirite⁉️
when he heard of your, he was so stunned
like 😦
you LOST your parents??? and you're so casual about it bc u believe it brings u good luck like inheriting their wealth???
and the way you're so casual about getting kidnapped bc you found a lottery ticket and won it⁉️⁉️
damn bro are u ok😥😥
he's good at making potions so he can try to make u one that'll block your luck?
i mean it's a natural thing but he can try?
he feels kind of sorry anyway
Idia:
a pessimist and a pessimist together in a room, what could go wrong?
everything.
one of them is insulting themselves and the other has a crisis if they're the reason they're insulting themselves
it's a rough beginning but y'all can be friends after!
but if one of them requires comfort then uh
dont meet each other
i mean how can y'all comfort each other? it'll be a mess
"I'm worthless and is just a stepping stone for everyone"
"yeah, I'm probably an npc in this world too"
well there you have it, they're making themselves feel worse
finds out abt ur extreme bad and good luck and how it affected you
he cares for ortho and can't ever imagine what would he do if he's just gone so suddenly bc of his bad luck so he can sympathize with you a little
he's not all that great at comforting tho so uh
pls bear with him😁
well i mean he can try to create something that'll block your luck if you want!!
whenever you talk about strange, unsettling stuff, he panics a little on the inside
bc how is he going to deal with this?!7?!8 they didn't teach this in class!?5!5
Malleus:
you're a friendly one, don't u fear him?
he asked but he's actually overjoyed to have someone being friendly to him and is willing to become his friend
sure, you say some weird and awkward stuff at times
but it's fine!! he can get used to it!
your extreme good and bad luck made him kind of curious
like is it your unique magic or something?
hm? no? you're magicless?
then what's this luck of yours🤔
cue you telling him what happened as an example
oh.
are u alright.
parents are important to you humans no? are u sure you're ok?
and getting kidnapped is quite traumatizing even if you did won the lottery no?
well you seemed fine so he kind of just hesitantly brushed it off
he kind of watches over you a little more closely to make sure that bad luck of yours won't hurt you!!
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ihatebnha · 3 years
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HC: bakusquad simping for bakugo’s gf but instead of being mad bakugo is proud how hot his girl is and shows her off! Maybe if he’s an exhibitionist he’ll show off how good he can take care of her *wink wink*
this > doing my homework that’s due in the morning
bakugo silently plotting to fuck you in front of his friends > bakugo getting jealous
(happy belated birthday bakugo... my favorite taurus!!) 
-
This is such a win-win situation for Bakugo, because not only does he get to show you off, but it’s to the people he trusts more than anyone in the world
So this means that he can just be his usual boastful self while at the same time know that his friends aren’t about to steal you away, and that you view them as buddies more than romantic interests, too… 
Plus, it’s not like he doesn’t know what they’re going through, because Hell, before the both of you started dating, he was like that, too… so the least he can do is be sympathetic, right?
Right. 
Kirishima’s all shy around you, thinks you’re the sweetest girl in the world and that Bakugo is so, so lucky...
You do literally anything around him and he’s blushing like a fool, eyebrows raised and lips pursed, almost like he’s afraid that Bakugo will get mad at him for even just being around you (not that he’s the one initiating any of the affection) 
Still though, Kiri lets you cling to his arm when Bakugo isn’t there and feed him bits of your food when he tells you that your cooking looks good… all the while refusing to admit that he’s not disappointed when you let go of him to run to Baku the moment he arrives 
Bakugo, of course, never shy of the smirk that appears on his face when he see all this take place, just laughs it off, placated by your smile and the way it washes away any minuscule fears he may have of infidelity… and never hesitates to give you tongue in front of Kirishima as greeting, either 
But God, because that’s not it though, since Denki’s such a simp, too…
It’s not like he really needs to do any of this, but whenever Bakugo isn’t around, be it that he’s busy at lunch or gone for mission, Denki’s taking care of you as his own —almost as though Bakugo instructed him to and you aren’t fully grown
Buying you coffee in the morning, carrying your bag or groceries for you, even offering to wrap you up in his jacket whenever it gets cold… and when Bakugo finds out, because you tell him everything (and he sees the pictures of your and Denki’s matching coffee on your Instagram, too), he’s not even denying it
But again, is Bakugo mad? Of course not!!! 
That’s how his friends should treat his girlfriend, because what? Is he supposed to say no to people spoiling you? Especially when he knows they’ll never really make a move, and even if they do, you’ll reject them. 
Obviously not
Though Sero and Mina aren’t much better, either… Mina always offering to take you shopping with her and yelling at Bakugo when he gets snappy with you or the PDA gets a little heavy (usually defending himself with the excuse  that they aren’t paying attention, though he knows that they are)… always blushing when Bakugo bites at her for being rather overprotective for no reason
Not to mention how Sero volunteers to give you rides back and forth whenever Bakugo can’t... saying that he doesn’t mind if you need to wrap your arms around his middle when you’re on his motorcycle, or letting you pick the radio when he takes his car... 
Still though, despite the way you run your fingers through Mina’s hair whenever she sits between your legs during movie night, and how you coo at Sero for bugging you about staying safe, Bakugo STILL doesn’t mind 
Because as this is happening, Bakugo is always the one you hold hands with during group outings, always the one you kiss after you wave goodbye to Sero… or Denki… and always the one you go home to when Kirishima takes you out to eat
If anything, Bakugo likes the way they stare, wishing they could have you, because really… that just means he’s won. He has the one thing that none of them really will…
And even though he appears rather nonchalant about it as all their pining occur, Bakugo still finds opportunities to get revenge in his own way… he’s not that nice, after all, and he knows what’s been going on with his friends
Joining you and Kiri for lunch? Definitely initiates a game of footsies with you, before dragging you onto his lap so he can discretely grind into while the redhead is distracted by something (probably drooling)
Denki buying you food? Bakugo’s eating it, or kissing you when your mouth is full, or leaving Denki standing around with your purse filled with textbooks and snacks so he can not-so-discretely drag you into the men’s restroom… a pair of yellow eyes just barely catching sight of the both of you walking away, and of Bakugo’s hand bring stuffed down the back of your leggings
As for Mina and Sero? Bakugo loves to make a show of “making up with you” (see: spitting in your mouth much to Mina’s chagrin), or pressing you up against the glass of your window right as Sero’s leaving
And during those group movie nights, too… on the days when it’s hosted at your place… Bakugo never hesitates to complain about being tired, either… all so he can pull you away from the film to fuck you in the next room over
And no, he doesn’t really care if (and when) anyone starts to listen in🥴
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notchesandbullets · 3 years
Text
She’s Mine (Protective!Bakugou x Punk!Tattooed!Reader) feat. Erasermic
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Warnings: racism, implied homophobia (not by anyone in the main cast), sexism, discrimination/discriminatory behavior, Modern!AU, Aged-Up!AU, features Bakugou’s parents, Erasermic, Kota, Eri, Mahoro, Katsuma and all of Class A defending you when insults start to fly.
Synopsis: This is not the first time you’re seeing Bakugou’s family but it is the first time you’re meeting his grandmother, who is not the best company to be around. He comes to your defense after you stand up for yourself and he had no qualms about sticking his face in the old hag’s because he’d be damned if he lets anyone talk to you like that. You’re his.
Words: 3.2k
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“Y/N’s here!!!” Mitsuki called over her shoulder as she threw the front door wide open before you could even ring the doorbell.
Her son had texted her that you two were on their way and she was eager to see you. With the job and your relationship with her son, you two were busy bees and didn’t come around as often anymore. 
Which is why she insisted that her stubborn son at least come around for his birthday since it only happened one day out of the year. Then he could continue doing whatever it was that he was doing. 
Luckily, you were on her side and helped convince him to go just this once.
You laughed at the pitter-patter of tiny feet scampering across the cherry hardwood before dropping everything to catch the little kid that tunneled into your legs. 
“Y/N!!! You’re back!!!”
Eri’s ruby red eyes sparkled with joy as she clung to your legs.
“I missed you!!!” She shouted excitedly, hugging your knees tight.
You giggled, resting a hand on top of her head. “I missed you too, munchkin.”
Bakugou snorted behind you and you were reminded of his presence. “Oi, brat. Are you going to let us in or what?”
Eri stuck her tongue out at him childishly before dashing back inside, a trick she learned from her big brother Izuku, doubling back to grab your hand and hauled you inside with her. You casted a glance over your shoulder at your boyfriend but he shrugged, giving you the go-ahead.
He would catch up to you two troublemakers later. Besides, he knew you would want to see all the kids first. 
Kota, an orphan whose extended family gave him up for adoption, along with the siblings, Mahoro and Katsuma, were all under Aizawa’s guardianship.
After he adopted Eri, it sort of just snowballed until he was in too deep. He told Mic repeatedly that it wasn’t his fault that he had a soft spot for orphans.
His husband had merely shook his head with a laugh and hoisted Katsuma up higher so that he could reach the cupcakes they were going to sneak behind his back before dinner.
Mitsuki closed the door behind him as her son kicked off his shoes. 
“She gets that from me.” She said proudly as she gazed lovingly at Eri. She loved having her around the house. 
Since Aizawa and Mic lived relatively close, they came over often since she was feeling rather lonely with an empty nest.
Bakugou snorted. “Yeah, no shit.”
His mother glared at him for his language but didn’t reprimand him like she normally would and his eyes turned into hateful slits.
“Don’t tell me—” He started, gritting his teeth.
“They’re here.” She said with a heavy sigh.
Bakugou cursed vehemently under his breath, his brow furrowing deeply as he fought to control himself. He was banking on them not making an appearance today. 
His grandparents on his dad’s side, though he adored his grandad and thought the world of him, he absolutely could not stand his grandmother. 
She was racist, sexist, had limited views on literally everything and would raise hell if she didn’t get her way and she was a huge pain in his ass.
Even his own mother couldn’t stand her and that was saying something because she tolerated everyone to some degree, despite her odd love language when it came to him. 
They were both shit at communicating but it had gotten better as he got older. 
Now, the worst things that happened were spats here and there when they disagreed but his mother was usually good about backing off if she felt he could make the right decision for himself, which wasn’t often but it was better than none. 
Bakugou strolled inside and his eyes softened for a second when he saw you playing with Mahoro, Kota sitting on your lap as Eri was climbing all over Midoriya. You four were currently playing Monopoly and Eri exclaiming in shock as she realized she was losing since the devious Kota was slowly claiming more and more property.
“Haha!!” He cackled, rubbing his hands together evilly. “You landed on the purple one!!”
“No fair!!” Eri protested. “I don’t have enough money!!!”
“Too bad!!”
“Deku-niichan.” Eri cried, her eyes watering and you nearly fell over laughing as he frantically tried to get her to stop crying. 
The rest of his old class from college was already here, as per his mother’s request and Kirishima’s invitation.
Shinsou, Tsuyu, Todoroki and Iida were all near the food, the previous class rep serving drinks even though it wasn’t his job to play host. 
Tokoyami was currently engaged in a conversation with his dad and as Bakugou spun around the room, he realized every last one of his old classmates had shown up.
It was fucking crowded in his house. 
But the spark of joy he felt diminished the instant he saw his grandmother and he scowled, straying to your side almost protectively as her eyes burned into his back. 
This. 
This was why he didn’t fucking want her here. He didn’t want her to rain judgement upon the person who had won over his heart.
No way in hell.
Look, you weren’t fragile by any means. Your heart was filled with a healthy amount of self-esteem and you had built up your walls to protect yourself against people who had something to say about your many tattoos or piercings, yet you still were the kindest soul he had ever met. 
It was in the way you walked and interacted with people, a genuine smile always present on your features as you gave them more respect than most would give you upon first glance.
Bakugou knew you could handle yourself but you shouldn’t have to with his own fucking relatives. That shit was messed up. 
You glanced at your boyfriend out of the corner of your eye and your gaze dropped down to where his hands were clenched into fists, jaw locked tight and you sigh, softly urging Kota to get up and continue playing with Mahoro and Katsuma until you got back.
The boy grumbled but did as you asked, easily getting swept up in the competition of the game as you drifted to Bakugou’s side.
“I know that look,” You murmured into his ear, your hand covering his as you ignored the idle chatter coming from your friends and family around you. “What’s wrong?”
Bakugou clenched his teeth and debated about it for a second.
“Nothing.” He spat out eventually, choosing to deal with the old hag himself and you let him go when he stomped off, knowing that Kirishima or Kaminari would handle whatever it was that just happened if he didn’t want to talk to you about it. 
Momo greeted you warmly and a smile slipped onto your face as though it had never left. 
You hadn’t bothered to dress all that nice or different from your usual getup, feeling more comfortable in leather and all black that looked like you just came from a rock concert but you got the feeling that not everyone was feeling it as much as Jirou was when she came over to compliment you on your fashion taste.
Shoji and Koda each greeted you respectively and before you knew it, the catered dinner arrived and it was finally time to eat. The judging look you had been aware of from someone you didn’t recognize passing by as you brushed it off as unimportant and focused on helping Mitsuki set the table. 
You clapped your hands gleefully when Eri pitched in to help, complimenting her on how well of a job she did as she finished and you beamed at her when she smiled up at you.
Of course, Aizawa needed to help her since he didn’t want her to stand on a chair and lose her balance but it was easy enough to lift her up. She wasn’t that big yet. 
He had already told Mic he was dreading the day when she would grow up and have to leave home to start her own life and his husband patted him on the back sympathetically, reassuring him that it wouldn’t be the end of the world. 
They loved their children and their children absolutely adored them. 
You had told them as such on more than one occasion since they got insecure that they weren’t adequate parents but you reassured them that they were perfectly imperfect.
They put their kids’ health, safety and happiness before everything else and did everything they could for them. 
You wished your own parents had done that for you. 
As soon as you set down the place settings for everyone and called everyone in for dinner, they flooded the huge dining table that overflowed into the living area to accommodate everyone. 
Bakugou had left for a second to grab something from his old bedroom, promising to be back right away and you reassured him that you would be fine. 
You were barely into helping Mic convince a stubborn Kota to take a spoonful of green beans onto his plate, Shinsou helping Aizawa with Mahoro’s vegetable serving, when a throat cleared itself loudly.
The lively chatter died all around the table died down as grey eyes pierced your own and you stiffened but held your ground. 
You knew that look, you had seen it too many times. 
The older woman opened her mouth and spoke.
“So, you’re my grandson’s girlfriend?” She enunciated, looking you up and down from where she was sitting at the head of the table, her hands setting down her knitting project to glare at you. “I don’t see why he’s dating you.”
The expressions of shock at her vulgar words made several of your friends angry in your defense, Iida and Todoroki trembling in anger and Mina’s eyes narrowed as she dropped her happy-go-lucky personality in favor of ripping her a new one. 
But before any of them could act, she was continuing evenly.
“For someone who doesn’t know how to dress properly and looks like that, I mean, it’s already bad enough that your skin is that color, my dear, and you’ve ruined it even further with those ugly things.” She spat, unaware of the wrath she was evoking from every single person in the room. 
Kaminari’s electric eyes glowed as he saw red. “Bad enough?” 
“Excuse me?” Shoji seethed with unparalleled anger rising up in his chest, a rare sight for the normally calm and collected man.
Jirou, Ochako and Momo were furious at the way she was talking down to you and they shared a look amongst themselves, communicating wordlessly that this wasn’t going to be allowed to get out of hand any longer.
Kirishima was visibly shaking and even the normally shy Koda was fuming in his seat, openly glaring at the elderly woman who spewed insults at you. 
A chair scraped back as Midoriya shot up but you shook your head, holding your finger up to your lips as you subtly gestured for everyone to hold back. 
Aizawa’s nostrils flared from where he was covering Eri’s ears while several of his former students took care of the rest of the kids to make sure they wouldn’t hear this.
To their horror, the grandmother wasn’t even close to being done as she pointed a gnarly finger at you.
“Your job as a girl is to stay in the kitchen and attend to your husband. To even think you’re worth anything if you weren’t involved with my grandson is absurd.” She hissed at you venously, her skewed ideals rooted deeply in her beliefs and how she was raised. “You are a disgrace to even breathe the same air as someone like me.”
“Mother!!”
Bakugou’s father frantically tried to amend what had been done and Mitsuki was about to yell at her but you stopped her. 
Everyone’s eyes turned on you as you took a deep breath. 
“I’m sorry you feel that way, but I won’t apologize for being who I am.” You said quietly but firmly, failing to notice someone coming down the stairs and overhearing your steady words as they flowed from your lips like honey. 
Not tricks. Just genuine sympathy, like you didn’t even hear her say all those horrible things to you. 
It was supposed to be your boyfriend’s day and you weren’t going to ruin it for him in the same manner that she had just done. 
“I understand what you’re saying, but don’t you think that we should be allowed to love who we love?” 
You inclined your head slightly, allowing a sliver of the emotion you felt to slip onto your face as you glanced pointedly as Aizawa and Mic.
After you noticed her staring so openly at you, you also noticed that she would scowl whenever the two men would walk in the room and play with their kids and while you would take whatever she was going to throw at you, you weren’t going to tolerate the same for them.
They didn’t deserve that.
Holding up your arm, you inspected the ink running up and down the length of it. “As for my appearance, my style is my own. I don’t recall asking for your opinion.”
There were a couple of snickers from Jirou, Kaminari, Sero and Mineta as you put her in his place and Todoroki leaned back in his seat, gazing up at you proudly as you stood your ground without firing any hate back at the old woman. 
Hagakure clapped her hands jubilantly as a few cheers of agreement sounded around from the table but you had one more thing to say. 
Your eyes softened. “I understand how you may feel about me, but I don’t need your acceptance. I love myself just as I am and if Katsuki ever feels differently about me and we split, then we’ll split. But please do not judge my love for him based on how you believe I should be. I am who I am and I won’t ever apologize for that.”
“And you never fucking have to.”
Bakugou strolled into the dining area, smirking at the old hag who had the nerve to look shocked at his appearance. Of course she would be so fucking disgusting to say something this horrible to you when he wasn’t within earshot. 
Bitch. 
Blood relations didn’t excuse behavior. 
Narrowing his vermilion eyes at his grandmother, he faced her head on as he took your hand into his. 
“She’s my fucking girlfriend.” He declared, tenacity and stubbornness dripping off of his tone as he snarled at his grandmother. “And if you ever speak to her like that again—”
He nodded in time to Mic and Aizawa, the men who had mentored him and taught him almost everything he knew. 
“Or either of them, including the rest of these shitheads, I’ll fucking kill you.”
The veiled threat hung in the air and you squeaked as Bakugou abruptly dragged you to the front door.
“Where are you going?!” Mitsuki cried out, worried that you both were going to leave without eating anything and she was sad to think that her mother-in-law had driven you away.
Bakugou gnashed his teeth at the confused clamour that arose from his classmates. “Out!! We’ll be back later!!”
You could hardly get a word in edgewise as he dragged you all the way out to the car after barely giving you enough time to put on your shoes.
“Katsuki!! What—”
Your bewildered protests were interrupted as he whirled around and kissed you hard. You melted into his touch as his hot palms settled on your hips, pulling you flush against him. Whining softly when he pulled away, you panted as he breathed hard against you, his exhales fanning out over your face.
You were in a daze as he led you to the car, buckling you in before he got in the driver’s seat. 
And he drove, taking a detour that would take him towards the countryside where there were no people, no places, just you and him. 
Just how he liked it. 
The painted lavenders and pale pinks of the setting sun faded to midnight black with stars twinkling high above you as you cruised around for hours before he finally spoke. 
“I’m sorry.” He apologized quietly and you immediately grabbed his hand that wasn’t currently occupied with steering.
“No!! You don’t have anything to apologize for—”
“Yes I do.”
His grip tightened on the steering wheel a fraction as he slowly explained that if he had told you earlier about what she was capable of instead of ranting to his best friend like an idiot, maybe he could’ve—
“Katuski.”
Your soft murmur brought him back down to planet Earth and you shook your head firmly. 
“It’s not your fault.” You told him without wavering once as he brought the car to a stop just at the edge of the trail. “I don’t blame you at all.”
Bakugou slammed his hand against the steering wheel angrily. “Yes it fucking is!!!”
He ranted and he ranted about how he had come downstairs only to hear his own flesh and blood spitting those vile insults that you didn’t deserve at all. 
You didn’t deserve it at all.
You were quiet when he finished and when his chest was heaving with the spent rage he had aired out, you asked, “Feel better?”
“Like hell I do!!!” He snapped at you, about to go off again when he noticed the bemused expression on your face. “What the fuck, dumbass?”
You tilted your head in confusion. “Huh?”
“Why the hell aren’t you bothered at all?” He questioned, genuinely flabbergasted. 
Eyes clearing in understanding, you traced the back of his hand with your fingers. “Because it doesn’t bother me.”
At the sight of Bakugou opening his mouth, you hurried out, “I mean, do you really think someone like that gets to cut me down? Her words don’t mean anything to me.”
You hesitated and opened yourself a little bit, trusting him not to take advantage of your weakness because while her words stung in the moment, it was nothing your heart couldn’t come back from. But…
“If you were to say them, it would hurt a lot more, but I don’t think you would— eep!!”
You yelped as he dragged you over to his seat, yanking at the seatbelt that got in the way, but pulled you to his chest once he released the safety clip.
“Never.” He breathed against your hair, pressing a kiss to the crown of your head. “I would fucking never.”
You closed your eyes. “I know.”
There, in his car, you two stayed in a tight embrace under the stars until you it got late enough that you insisted you should go back and at least spend the rest of the time with your friends, which, if their sleeping schedules hadn’t changed since college, there was a good chance almost all of them would still be up.
So Bakugou drove you both back, his heart a little more at ease after he got to hold you close and be alone with you. 
That was all he wanted.
Well… He thought to himself as he unconsciously brushed his left hand over the small velvet box that had been hastily stuffed in his pocket the second he grabbed it from his room.
That and one other thing.
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wolvesandpetals · 3 years
Text
Loki x Sylvie Post-Finale Fanfiction (Angst, Rated Teen) Part 1 of 2
SPOILER ALERT.
It's probably just the alcohol, but the beats of the music are starting to sound a little bit like a marching drum that's announcing war. She can feel herself dancing along to it, but her whole body is on alert, ready to switch to fight and flight any second.
"So, cool place huh?" The bloke in the leather jacket asks.
She tries to remember his name. Jeff something. Or maybe Jed. No, not Jed, she's thinking of Star Wars again. That's what happens when you binge watch a multiverse of movies in a single day.
Oh, yeah, that's right. She broke the multiverse.
Another shot of tequila, and she takes not-Jed's hand in hers. It doesn't feel right, at least not the way-
No.
She realises he asked her a question, but she can't remember what, and she just laughs, because that always works.
Encouraged, he leans in close and whispers into her ears. "How about we get out of here?"
"And go where, exactly?" She asks, but she's not sure he understands, not with how slurred the words come out.
She laughs again, and this time, it's bitter. This time, she's laughing at how this is so him, this getting drunk in the face of imminent danger and making a mess of things.
(But I'm not you.)
---
She's frozen in her place the second the glowing yellow door appears. But it's not for her, at least not this time.
She hasn't been on the run for a while. Doesn't need to be. Because even though she is the one who unleashed the chaos, it's the chaos that needs to be contained immediately. She's low on the list of priorities.
The TVA will come for her. But not right now.
---
It's extremely easy pretending to be a psychic. All she has to do is take her client's hands and enchant him, find a memory, describe it back to him.
Sometimes she does it just for fun, just to see the look of amazement on their faces.
Other times, she does it for the money she needs to survive.
"And I see a blonde woman. Very beautiful."
"That's my wife."
The way he smiles, loving and proud, makes her heart drop.
"What do you see in her future? Is she happy? Does she get the job at the magazine?"
There is definitely at least one timeline where she does get the job, but The Enchantress cannot exactly tell if it's this one. She can't actually see the future, after all.
She sees the colors drain from his face as her silence swallows the room. "She's going to be okay, right? I just want her to be okay."
(I just want you to be okay.)
There's that bitter laugh again, because-
No. She can't do this right now.
"She loves you very much", she whispers, to the man in front of her, and to the man who is not there to hear those words.
---
Mobius finds her in the middle of a concert by a Nirvana where Kurt Cobain never died. She can easily slip away, disappear into the screaming, writhing crowd if she wants.
Or she can just take him some place quiet and hear him out.
"Help us", Mobius pleads. He sounds exhausted, and not just physically. "We're outnumbered and outwitted. Our world is in danger."
"This isn't my world", she reminds him.
"Yet, you're here", he retorts.
Her smile is pained. "Where else will I go?"
He is sympathetic, like he always has been. And he offers her a new glorious purpose. "Come with me. We need you. He needs you."
She feels the air find its way out of her lungs the same way she pushed him out of her life- painfully, forcefully. "H-how is he?"
"He's okay... all things considered."
Now there's a cocktail of relief and disappointment that will give her months of sleepless nights.
"Tell him I'm-" she starts, but she doesn't know how to finish that sentence. What can she tell him? That she's sorry for not trusting him when she should have? That she's sorry for making the universes collide?
That she's sorry for betraying him and breaking his heart?
(How will I know you won't betray me at the end?)
"Nevermind."
---
It's been really hard facing the consequences of her actions, watching the timelines bleed into each other and destroy people's lives- families torn, achievements gone, every little anomaly delving into death and destruction. Every headline on the newspaper is her fault, and she has to live with that.
But that seems so easy compared to this moment where she has to face him.
The plan was to send him away, kill He Who Remains, give people their free will back, save the world, then come back to him. Yeah, he'd be mad at her at first, sure, but he'd forgive her eventually, she was confident.
Then the timelines started to branch the minute she stuck the dagger in that terrifying man's chest, and she knew she had screwed up.
She had sunk to the ground in defeat as the realisation of the repercussions hit her, and she did what she has always done- run.
She didn't even realise she had sent him to the wrong universe until she teleported herself into another universe as well. The journey back was long and lonely, but she dreamt of him in colors while the world was bleeding red, and that was enough to keep her going.
She doesn't really know what she'll do when she sees him again. Neither does she know what reaction she expects from him. Nothing he can say to her can be worse than what she thinks of herself.
A part of her hopes he would be overwhelmingly happy, he would come running to her, just like he did at The Void, greet her with the smile that has won a hundred hearts- including hers, and tell her everything will be alright. Another part of her fears that he would be furious, and he would confront her with accusations of unleashing havoc on all worlds- especially his.
What she never expected is this eerie calm that makes her feel like she is standing in the storm center.
His walls are up.
And it causes her to redirect the anger she feels at herself towards him. There's venom in her voice. "So you do get to rule, after all."
"I don't feel much like a king." He shrugs. "I'm more of a multiversal janitor. Mopping up multiversal messes."
"My messes."
"Our messes." He corrects, his features softening around the edges. "We made a mistake." He has been saying that ever since he found himself in the alternate TVA, and that hasn't changed even after getting back to his own version of the bureau. Always "we", never "she". He simply cannot bring himself to blame her without taking accountability for his part in the mess.
"Don't patronize me." Her hands are shaking, just like her voice, a sharp contrast to his steady silhouette, and can he just hold her, please? "I don't need you to take the fall for me."
His eyes go cold, like they were forged in the heart of Jotunheim. "Of course not", he says, fully composed. "You don't need me for anything. It's not like we're in this together."
(Maybe we can figure it out-together.)
---
She now knows her walls don't- can't- keep the hurt out- it just keeps her locked inside this cage of distrust and insecurities. And the price she has to pay for it is too high.
They could have been lying on a beach somewhere, sipping mimosas right now. Instead, they're here, in the vast, silent library of the TVA, sitting on separate tables, reading files on variants.
The only thing worse than bearing the weight of his gaze is having him stare at his files without looking in her direction even once. She can't take it anymore.
"I'm sorry." She suddenly blurts out.
He looks up, confused. "I'm sorry?"
"I'm sorry for what I did." She repeats. It's difficult to start an apology, but once she finds the strength to begin, the rest of it flows automatically. "I'm sorry I messed up everything. I'm sorry I broke the timelines. I'm sorry the world is in danger." She takes in a deep breath. "And I'm sorry I betrayed you."
His smile is the saddest kind. "A Loki betraying a Loki. That's the least surprising thing in the world. What's shocking is how I didn't see it coming. You really had me going with that kiss. Very nice distraction. Very Loki."
Free will comes with the fine-print of living with the consequences of your choices. And she has to live with hers every day. The tears finally spill out of her eyes. She hasn't let herself cry for a long, long time. But now she's breaking down worse than the multiverse. "I didn't do it to distract you. I did it to say goodbye."
He gets up, and she panics that he's leaving. Instead, he sits down in front of her, reaches for her hand, but changes his mind mid-way and lets them fall to his side. "You didn't have to say goodbye."
"It's all I've ever known." She feels like that scared little girl, far from home, running from minute men, with nobody to turn to but herself. "I told you, I don't have anyone."
"You had me."
That's the saddest part of it all, isn't it? Everything else in her life is the TVA's fault. She's torn from Asgard? Hasn't seen her parents in years? Can't remember her brother Thor? Spent her whole childhood running and hiding? All TVA.
But this? This is all her own doing. This is the one time she had something real, something worth holding onto, someone worth fighting against the world for. Instead, she questioned his intentions, didn't hold on, fought him and ruined everything.
"I didn't want to rule, Sylvie", he finally tells her. "I wanted you."
She has dreamed of this moment when he tells her how he feels. They have come so close to it so many times, the words dangling off the edge of his tongue but never quite finding their way out. She has always known- every word, every action pointed to it. But it was so hard to imagine someone could love her.
It's so hard to imagine someone can love her again. The past tense in his wording terrifies her worse than any danger ever could. "Is it too late to fix things?"
His smile doesn't reach his eyes. "We are fixing things. That's why we are here. Saving the universe."
"You know what I mean."
"I don't know how to trust you again, Sylvie." He tells her point blank- no deception, no lies, no Loki-ism. "And you never trusted me to begin with."
That's not entirely true. She trusts him more than she has trusted anyone. "I really thought I was doing the right thing."
"I know."
(Not to be dramatic, but yeah, we're saving the universe.)
---
The Avengers are much nicer than Loki described them, considering they don't kill her for what she has done, instead tell her about their own journeys towards redemption. Wanda tells her about the man she has loved and lost, and the pain she has caused to an entire town. Barnes talks about his past as a brainwashed assassin. Clint tells her the story of Natasha and how she took charge and changed her life.
Thor is the kindest of them all. He talks about how far Loki himself has come. He tells her stories of his version of Asgard, the nine realms, the glorious battles, the beauty of earth.
She still dreams of death, but sometimes she doesn't.
Sometimes, she hopes.
---
(To be continued)
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adsdragonlover · 3 years
Text
You Matter To Me
Coda to 15x19
Wc: 2k, Tags: fluff, pie, happy ending, first kiss
Also on ao3
It’s been three weeks since they won, but Dean still isn’t happy.
He’s been driving around the country, searching for something he knows he won’t find. The thing he wants that he knows he can’t have. He lost his chance.
Eventually, he ends up at a diner.
Lulu’s Pies, it says in softly glowing neon cursive above the building.
The bell above the door chimes as Dean pushes it open and steps inside. It’s pleasantly warm compared to the cold night outside, but Dean still feels cold. At least on the inside.
He heads to the bar and sits down on one of the stools.
With a cursory and habitual glance around the diner, he realizes he’s the only one here. At least the only customer.
That makes sense, he supposes. It’s barely 3 AM and the diner is plopped in the middle of bumfuck nowhere. The only other signs of life in the area are the long winding road outside and the shitty old gas station a few miles back.
To be honest, Dean doesn’t quite know why he came here. Maybe he needed a break from the drive.
He wanted to get some pie - the place was literally named for its pies - but that was mainly out of habit rather than actual desire. It’s been hard to want any of the things he used to enjoy, not since…
He cuts off that train of thought with a scowl to himself.
The waitress, a sweet looking woman with long, wavy, dark blonde hair and deep blue eyes approaches Dean from the other side of the bar. “What can I get for you, sugar?” she asks with a warm voice, rich with a soft southern accent. It reminds him, inexplicably, of his mother.
“I-“ Dean stops. “I don’t know,” he admits quietly.
The waitress, Jenna, according to her name tag, smiles sympathetically. “That’s alright,” she says sweetly. “It can be hard to know what you want, especially when you lose someone dear to you.”
Dean frowns. “How did you-” He begins.
Jenna smiles sadly at Dean. “There are some things a mother just knows, and heartbreak is one of them.” Her eyes are understanding, and painfully blue - too close to Castiel’s eyes for comfort. Dean looks away. “You look like you could use a slice of pie,” she says, handing him a paper dessert menu, specifically made for this week. “They’re all made from scratch, and made from the heart. Take all the time you need, honey. I’ll be back with a cup of coffee for you, it’s on the house.”
Jenna’s words soothe something raw and stinging inside Dean, and he offers her a small smile as she heads back into the kitchen.
He looks over the menu with a tired sigh. Not too long ago, Dean would’ve killed to eat here. All the pies sound awesome, and something about the waitress makes it very clear she puts effort into her pies.
Still, his heart isn’t really in it.
When Jenna comes back with a mug of coffee and a smile, Dean nods thankfully, but shakes his head when she asks if he’s ready to order. “I just- I need more time,” he says.
He isn’t just talking about the food. Not anymore.
Jenna nods. “Just give me a call when you’re ready, hun,” and then she’s gone.
Dean isn’t really sure how long he sits there, staring blankly at the dessert menu, coffee warming up one of his hands, his soul feeling achingly empty.
He's snapped out of his stupor by the sound of the bell above the door chiming to indicate someone else entering.
Dean’s eyes are glued to the menu still, reading the blurb under Heartbreak Pie. It's a black bottomed cherry pie, and the picture stops him.
He hears footsteps walk over, but he ignores them. They come closer until the stranger sits down on the stool to the right of Dean.
Dean feels irritation flash through him briefly, the diner is completely empty, and Dean’s positive he’s radiating “leave me alone” vibes, but for some reason the stranger decides to sit next to him anyway.
The irritation is gone as fast as it appeared however, Dean just doesn’t have the energy. Not anymore.
A couple days after they’d won, after Jack had left and Sam had reunited with a newly brought back Eileen, Dean had broken down in the bunker.
He’d lost it a little, had cried and cried and cried for days. Begging and pleading and praying. But Cas hadn’t come back.
Not long after, the sadness had turned to anger. Anger at Cas, for making the deal in the first place. For loving Dean so much it killed him. For telling him and then leaving before Dean could say it back. Anger at Jack, for dying and causing the deal, for becoming God and not bringing Cas back, for leaving Dean just like Cas had, just like Sam.
But mostly, Dean had been angry with himself. For not saying it back when Cas told him, for just standing there, for being the reason Cas died, for being too stubborn and too scared to say anything sooner, back when he’d had the chance. He was angry at himself for not being everything that Cas apparently thought he was.
Those few days were fueled entirely by anger in Dean’s opinion. He knew, deep down, that the anger was caused by love, but he didn’t want to think about that. Because if Cas was right, if he was right about Dean then there really wasn’t any good reason why Dean had never said anything.
Those few days were fueled entirely by anger. He knew, deep down, that the anger was caused by love, but he didn’t want to think about that. Because if Cas was right, if he was right about Dean then there really wasn’t any good reason why Dean had never said anything.
Nowadays though, Dean just felt numb. He drives around in Baby with the hopes of bringing something back into his life, but nothing helps.
He almost missed it, he was so lost in thought, and he barely caught the tail end of Jenna asking the stranger what she could “-get for you, dear?”
“I’ll have a slice of cherry pie,” came the low and gravelly voice, and Dean’s heart stopped, “and a slice of apple pie for my friend here,” Castiel finished.
Dean could barely hear Jenna’s acknowledgement and departure over the sudden ringing in his ears and the unavoidable bloom of hope in his chest.
He wants to look over, he does. He wants to see for himself if it really is Cas. Or if he's finally going crazy. But he can't move. He's frozen in his spot.
And then Cas’ hand comes to rest on Dean’s shoulder, right where his handprint had been, both as a scar that was no longer there, and as a bloody stain on a jacket Dean kept in the trunk of the impala for safekeeping. That movement, that touch, it was undeniably Castiel, and it forced Dean into action.
He turns his head, and looks his best friend in the eyes for the first time in what feels like forever.
And it's Castiel. Undoubtedly. He has the same messy hair, the same stubble, the same beautiful blue eyes, same dirty trench coat, the same stubbornly crooked blue tie.
“Cas?” Dean croaks, voice wobbling, painfully close to cracking.
Castiel smiles softly and the sight of it brings endless relief to Dean. And when Cas responds with, “Yes. Hello, Dean.” The relief doubles until it floods over Dean so completely his hands begin to shake.
“Cas,” he starts, voice trembling almost as much as his hands. “I- you- how-?”
“Oh look, our pie,” Cas says, cutting Dean off as their slices of pie are placed down in front of them.
“Cas, listen-” Dean begins quietly.
“Dean,” Cas interrupts. “We’ll have plenty of time to talk, I promise. Just eat your pie.”
And maybe, some other time, Dean would’ve been worried, would’ve been suspicious over Cas’ clear redirection. But he isn't. Because Castiel’s eyes are earnest and honest.
And Dean suddenly understands. Cas doesn't want to talk about it yet. He doesn't know how Dean is going to respond. He wants to have this first, just a quiet, peaceful moment.
So Dean nods, and begins to eat his pie.
It is really good pie, especially a regular apple pie, and it's probably the best apple pie he’d had in years. Mentally, Dean decides to give Jenna a large tip.
He’s halfway through eating his pie when he can’t do it anymore. Not with the way he could feel Cas watching him contentedly, fondly.
“Cas, listen, I-”
“It’s alright, Dean,” Cas says, cutting him off again, but Dean can’t be mad at it. He just needs to keep going.
“No,” he says sternly, looking stubbornly down at his half-eaten slice of pie. “No, it’s not Cas. It’s not alright, and I need to say this.”
He looks back up at Cas and waits for his response. When Cas nods in understanding, Dean takes a deep breath. He closes his eyes to steady himself briefly before opening them back up and looking Cas in the eyes. “Cas, I love you,” Dean says quietly. “You gotta know I love you too.”
Cas’ eyes widen slightly before his expression softens to something so fond it would probably make Dean uncomfortable had it been coming from anyone else. “I know,” he says with a smile that’s almost a grin.
“You kno-?” Then Dean gets it. “Oh you little shit,” he laughs. “You did not know, you don’t get to Han Solo me, you asshat,” Dean says with a wide grin.
Cas chuckles and the sound warms Dean up from the inside out. “My apologies, Dean. It seemed fitting and I figured you’d appreciate it.” Cas ducks his head slightly, avoiding eye contact, though he’s still smiling.
“Hey,” Dean says, and he reaches out and grabs Cas’ hand. “There’s no need to apologize, man.” Dean’s grinning too, and, distantly, he figures he should probably make an effort to stop calling Cas “man” and “buddy”, considering the fact that he’s in love with the stupid angel.
Cas’ smile widens and he looks back up, meeting Dean’s gaze as he turns his hand over and laces their fingers together almost hesitantly.
The flood of warmth the action brings Dean, as well as the hesitation in Cas’ eyes, brings Dean to squeeze their hands automatically, reassuringly.
All the hesitance in Cas’ expression melts away, and he practically beams at Dean. “You should finish your pie, Dean,” he suggests softly.
“So should you,” Dean points out.
Cas chuckles again and shakes his head. “It only tastes like molecules to me. I’ll get a to-go box for it and you can finish it for me later,” he says, and the ‘later’ in that sentence fills Dean with joy.
They aren’t over. There’s going to be a “later” for the two of them.
He grins at Cas and squeezes his hand before turning back to his delicious pie.
It’s after he finishes it that he gets an idea, and he grins. “Hey Cas, you wanna taste it? It’s pretty good.”
Castiel frowns and does his confused little head tilt that Dean has always secretly found unbearably cute. He realizes, suddenly, that he doesn’t have to keep that a secret anymore, and the thought makes him smile.
“Dean, I don’t understand,” Cas says slowly, “there isn’t any pie le-” and then the look on Dean’s face must sink in, because he cuts off with a slowly growing and a little shy smile. “...yes,” he says finally. “I would like a taste.”
“Good,” Dean says, and then he reaches over with both hands, wrapping one around Cas’ arm and cupping the back of his neck with the other as he pulls his angel into a kiss.
Castiel melts into it, and Dean feels a little like he’s glowing from the inside out, he’s so happy.
When they pull away, Dean is still grinning. “Well?” he says. “Did you like the taste?”
Cas is wearing a matching grin. “Hmmm,” he says with mock thoughtfulness. “I’m not sure, I think we should do it again, so I can have another taste.”
God, Dean is in love.
They meet again in the middle for another kiss.
Dean’s face almost hurts from smiling so much after such a long time of not smiling at all. And he knows, as they hold each other close in the pie diner, that they have the rest of their lives to spend together.
And Dean is happy.
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