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#heavily implies that they have in fact spooned with each other
ingravinoveritas · 1 year
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“Who’s the big spoon?”
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ari-a1357 · 3 months
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I was bored so I did this for vanlock lol
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In summary, these two are polar opposites in most areas, so they complement each other quite well IMO. If you wanna see more of my brainrot, read my vanlock fic on AO3 :D
For explanations + extra headcanons, keep reading (MAJOR SPOILERS FOR DGS2):
Barok being 4 inches/9 cm taller makes me think that he has to be the big spoon by default, at least most of the time. That’s also why I thought he was slightly more likely to lend his clothes to Herlock. Also Herlock likes to steal Barok’s cape and pretend to be a vampire.
Herlock canonically calls Barok, “Mr. Reaper” in the games. I don’t know if that counts as a pet name, but it’s the perfect mixture of playful and insulting which I think encapsulates their dynamic pretty well.
One thing some people might not realize is that the original depiction of Sherlock Holmes by Arthur Conan Doyle is canonically queer. Yeah, it’s explicitly stated that Sherlock isn’t into women so none of that queerbaiting shit with Johnlock (looking at you Moffat) which is pretty progressive for the late 1800s. Many people speculate Sherlock to be aroace, and since I’m aroace, I like to believe Herlock Sholmes is also on the spectrum.
Obviously, the previous point ties into the horny levels. In my mind, Herlock constantly craves affection, both emotional and physical, but that doesn’t always translate to desiring sexual intimacy. It shifts frequently, much like his moods. Hence, the aceflux orientation. Barok’s horny level is more straightforward, which is the only straight thing about him lmao.
Barok gives off the vibe of a deeply repressed homosexual man with religious trauma, you can’t change my mind. That played a factor into some of my decisions with the sliders, especially his little relationship experience and dislike of PDA.
They’re from Victorian era London there are no cars lmao
I think it is canon that Herlock sucks at cooking or at least it’s heavily implied by the fact that his ten year old daughter does all the cooking. But he’s gotta be somewhat better than Barok who was raised in nobility and has likely never touched a stove in his life.
Barok isn’t scared of bugs (he’s been through much scarier things) but he also doesn’t like squashing them because it gets his expensive shoes dirty. Herlock screams about bugs not because he’s scared of them, but because he gets excited and wants to use them for his inventions.
I think some people might assume Barok is more overprotective since that’s what his character archetype typically falls under, but I’d argue that Herlock is far more overprotective, even to a fault. I mean, he kept so many secrets for ten whole years just to protect his daughter from the pain of knowing her biological father was a mass murderer. Also, he went all the way to Asia to prevent Kazuma from getting assassinated even though he’d never met the man. I rest my case.
The awkwardness level could be changed honestly. While Barok is an introvert, he’s also a highly skilled prosecutor so he is good at public speaking. On the other hand, he is probably terrible at socializing beyond polite conversations with coworkers since he likely doesn’t have friends other than Albert. Meanwhile, Herlock does and says a lot of awkward things, but he isn’t embarrassed about it in the slightest.
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Crazy In Love
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Eddie Diaz x Reader 
Warnings: mentions of injuries, Eddie can’t do math or cook for shit, friends to lovers :))) 
Category: Fluff
Word Count: 2.1k
Author’s Note: takes place after Stuck (2x04) when abuela breaks her hip. Also, this was supposed to be for 911 readers week but I didn’t finish it in time sooooo just take it now instead :) 
-----
The phone rang, your arm stretched over the pile of dishes on the counter. “Hello ?” you answered, putting it on speaker and setting it back down.
Eddie’s voice rang through the speaker, echoing through the empty apartment. “Hey, can you do me a huge favour ?”
“If you're gonna ask me to bake a cake, I have literally no time, honey. I’m really sorry but I need to finish this order-” Eddie sounds like he cut himself off before saying something as you explain that you’re busy.
“Eds? Are you there ?”
“Yeah- yeah, I'm here.”
“What’s up?”
“You’re busy, I don’t want to bother you.”
You can’t help but roll your eyes because no matter how busy you are, you always made time for Eddie. He sighs heavily, so much so that you can hear him thinking.
“Eddie, what is it ?”
“Can you pick Chris up from school ? I know you’re busy but if you can’t, that’s ok-” “of course I can pick him up!”
The sound of a breath being released before a feminine voice called out for him. “I gotta go, Abuela needs me but he’s off at 3. Thank you, y/n - really.”
“You don’t have to thank me, Eddie.”
He mumbles something before hanging up. You glance at the phone screen - 2:24. You had enough time to change and shove the dishes in the dishwasher before having to head out so you did just that.
You had picked up Christopher from school a million times. His teachers knew you well enough that Eddie no longer had to call and let them know he wouldn't be picking up Chris but that you would be.
Standing outside of the school, the PTA parents were gossiping within their little bubbles, talking about the other members behind their backs but smiling in their faces. You bit back a smile before walking towards the gate. The students were lined up by the door, waiting for the bell to ring.
The moment it does, the students come running out with their teacher a few feet behind them in an attempt to keep up with them. One by one, their teacher lets them out, Christopher finally spotting you and this teacher waves hello as they open the gate for him.
“Y/n! What are you doing here!?” his little face lights up with a smile.
“Your dad asked me to come get you, he's with abuela.”
The two of you start making your way back to the car when Christopher asks you what his plans for the afternoon were. Soon you realized that Eddie didn’t give you any explanation as to where to go or what to do after you picked up Chris.
“How does ice cream and then abuela’s sound ?”
“Can we take some for her and dad too?” Chris asks as you help him into the car.
“Of course we can.”
----
Christopher was lugging his backpack over his shoulder when you knocked on the door, two containers of ice cream in hand. Eddie opens the door, grinning at his son whose face matches his father’s.
“Hey kiddo” Eddie kneels, wrapping the boy in his arms. Christopher’s arms extend around his father, “hi dad, we bought ice cream” he points out the obvious.
Eddie glances up at you, the ice cream tucked under your arm - he flashes you a smile.
“Oh yeah?” he lets go of Chris. “Did you have any?”
“No,” he shakes his head, his hair flopping around as he snickers. Eddie pushes the hair from Christopher’s forehead. “So what’s this on your face?” swiping his finger on Chris’s chin, a little smudge of brown on his finger from the leftover ice cream.
“Paint.” Chris smiles at his father sweetly.
“Uh huh, paint.” he chuckles, stepping aside for Chris to come further into the house.
“Thanks for picking him up,” he leans on the door frame, stretching and his arms lift above his head as he does. You can’t help but glance down at the area of exposed skin - eyes glued to the man in front of you.
“Y/n?” Eddie’s waving his hands in front of you, eyes raising from their previous spot to his face - the blush was creeping up on your face whilst that stupid smug smile of his was on his.
“Would you like to come in?”
“Oh, I don’t want to intrude.”
“You won’t be.”
“Are you sure?”
“Positive.”
Stepping in, you take in the house. You had been by Isabel’s once or twice before but you had never come inside the house. The walls were painted a warm yellow colour, the furniture was spotless as was the rest of the house. Isabel sat on the couch with Chris beside her as he told her about his day at school.
“Chris, did you wash your hands?” Eddie calls, the door shutting. Chris doesn't answer which is an answer in itself. “Go now, please.” Eddie’s voice sounds closer, glancing behind you to see him beside you.
Chris grumbles but gets up, Isabel turns her attention to you and Eddie. “How are you feeling ?”
“As well as someone can with a broken hip” she gives you a smile.
“I’m glad you’re okay, you gave Eddie a scare” giving him a playful shove. “We got ice cream, vanilla and toffee. Chris said toffee was your favourite” handing her the small container. “It is, thank you. That’s so sweet of you.” she smiles, pulling the top off.
“No need to thank me, it was Christopher’s idea.”
“Ah, well I'll thank him when he comes back out.” she says smiling, “Eddie, a spoon please ?” she glances at the man beside you. He hums, stepping away for a moment to get her a spoon.
Chris comes running back in after washing his hands. “Dad! Can we stay over? Abuela said it was okay” he’s beside his father now, looking up at him with his big brown eyes that were practically begging him to let him.
You, Eddie and Isabel all knew that Christopher had his father wrapped around his finger and would ultimately get his way but Eddie had to give him a fatherly response and say no, they should go home. Isabel doesn't usually butt in but this time she did.
“Mijo, stay. I could use the company.” She says, patting the spot beside her and Chris makes his way over to sit beside her.
Eddie sighs, if he had a soft spot, it was for the two people on the couch. “Fine, just tonight then.”
Isabel smiles, satisfied with his answer. “y/n, stay for dinner darling. Eddie’s cooking” “Yea- who said I was cooking?” Eddie butts in, shocked at the assumption. “I did, mijo. Don’t worry, I'll tell you what to do.”
“Buddy, why don’t you finish up your homework so you can relax for the rest of the night ?” Eddie calls out to Chris, who again groans. He loved school but despised homework - as did most kids.
“I have math, I need help so I can’t do it because you’re busy.” Chris says plainly, thinking his statement will get him out of his math work because Eddie can’t do math for shit.
“I can help.”
“Y/n, you don't have to-” “no, it’s fine. C’mon kiddo” Chris grumbles, making his way to the dining room table, the two of you taking a seat when Eddie helps Isabel up and to the kitchen.
You can hear them talking and her telling Eddie to cut things a certain way or not to put too much of something into the pot. It only took 20 minutes for Christopher to finish his math homework, he brought it into the kitchen to show his dad.
“Look! I’m done! Math’s easy when you understand it.” that last bit was a little dig at Eddie and his math skills. You ruffled Chris’s hair as he walked back into the living room.
“Did he just-” Eddie watches his son make his way to the couch.
You hold back a laugh,“Mhm hm” Eddie shakes his head, chuckling. “Here, taste this.” he picks up some sauce from the pot, holding the spoon over his hand before handing it to Isabel.
Her face twists when she tastes it, “Eddie, I love you honey, but that’s terrible.” you press your lips together, holding back a chuckle.
“What?” he pouts, sighing. “I swear it tasted fine ten minutes ago.” sitting beside Isabel in defeat.
You pick up another spoon and taste some for yourself, your expression matching Isabel’s from moments ago. Eddie had remembered to put everything in, except the paprika and the salt, you add a bit of both and stir the pot. Taking the spoon from Eddie, you pick up a bit of the sauce and hand it back to Isabel.
“Ah, that’s better.” she hums, making you smile as she hands you back the spoon. Eddie sighs, letting you know that he was still there.
"Why don’t you go see if Christopher wants to watch something or if he wants a snack ?” his grandmother nudged him, a signal for him to leave the kitchen. “y/n can take over for you”
“Abuela, you can’t invite them in and have them work for their dinner.” he says, making her laugh.
“It’s okay Eds,” waving him off. “I don’t mind, really.”
Eddie left the kitchen and made his way over to the couch, listening as Chris told him about his day. He glanced back to see if everything was alright but he noticed that the two of you were laughing as you told Isabel something. Eddie would be lying if his heart didn’t skip a beat.
He stopped seeking his parents’ approval of who he dated- for a matter of fact, it went out the window when he brought Shannon home the first time but seeing you with an abuela made him so warm and happy, he couldn't help but smile.
---
Eddie’s hand slipped onto your hip, his chest against your back. “Can I help you, Eddie?” you mumble, your eyes on the dishes in front of you.
He hums, hands coming around and arms now wrapped around your waist. Eddie felt your wet hands pull his hands off of you, “Isabel and Chris are in the other room, stop it”
His head tilted, that innocent look on his face, “stop what?”
“Eddie,” turning to face him, “shh I don’t want to hear it” he cuts you off, hands back on your waist.
“I don’t think I've ever loved someone the way I love you.” His words come off so sweet and loving but hit you like a ton of bricks.
You loved Eddie, more than anything but you had never actually told him nor did you ever feel the need too. It was always implied that as friends, you loved and cared about each other.
Eddie always knew he loved you, there was never any question about that but something about you, seeing you with an abuela and how great you were with Christopher (as you always were) just pushed him over the edge.
He had to tell you.
“Y/n, you know I love you- and before you say anything, I know I’ve never actually said it to you but I didn’t feel like I had too, you knew I did.”
“I know.”
“Yeah.”
You were still gathering your thoughts, trying to come up with the words to tell him you loved him too but Eddie’s expression changed. His brows furrowed, eyes studying your face - the worry had set in.
What if you didn’t feel the same way ? God, he’d feel so stupid if he embarrassed himself like that.
The years of friendship were enough for you to realize how he was feeling. You were lacking words and you know what they say, actions speak louder than words.
Your hands reach for his face, now cupping his cheeks. Your lips meet his, he pulls you closer to him- if that's even possible. It was a few moments before you pulled away.
Eddie smiles lovingly at you and you’re sure you have the same expression plastered on your face. “Um- I think that says it.” you hum, smiling at him.
“Doesn't mean you can't say it,” he pokes fun at you, making you roll your eyes playfully.
“Eddie?”
“Y/n,”
“I love you.”
---- 
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jeweled-blue-eyes · 2 years
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i like to hc (or i think it’s canon. like it was heavily implied) that athy has a mental illness..? depression i think. ( pls let me have this ok! i know it’s so cliche but i also have mdd and her character just hits me esp her reincarnation as a person in our world and she... died 😭😭😭) also i like how functional she is? like yes she has dark thoughts a lot, but she has a good facade. she is strong (i mean she’s lived under poverty, no parents AND most likely worked at customer service) works hard, and smiles and keeps doing all of it, she doesn’t want to die bc of claude. do we know if she overdosed on purpose? was it an accident? we can’t know exactly. *LONG (AND I MEAN LONG) rant ahead i tried to make it make sense and this is just my own experience i’m sure other people will see it differently. you don’t have to read this, so please skip it if you don’t want to read this! and if you did and if you’d like, tell me what you think x*
what we do know is that she opened her eyes and she’s suddenly... a pitiful princess. and you know what? she’s not having any of this. she doesn’t want to have yet another shitty life. and yes she’s tired and she keeps wondering if what she’s doing is right. if she’s making the right decisions. when it gets REALLY hard she thinks “i thought i’d finally be happy”. she’s felt so lonely, and scared, finding a real friend like jennette, i think her fear of possible death if jennette were to be noticed by claude is surpassed by her wanting an actual connection with someone. to be loved. and who better than her sister? 🥺🥺 LISTEN IM A FIRM BELIEVER WMMAP SHOULDNT HAVE ROMANCE AS A MAIN THEME (especially in the novel where everything is more fucked up, here it’s more family centered) idk why they were shoving a lucas romance so fast when my girl athy is having a breakdown. for me, she just needed a friend. i think she had finally found a healthy connection to someone. jennette is her sister. and! she loves athy unconditionally. she’s never scared of her because she knows jennette would never want to hurt her. in fact, jennette would almost die for her like twice. (talking manhwa) i wish we could have focused more on the sibling bond in this story because it does athanasia so good. and i think, it’s a parallel with ana and claude’s relationship. athanasia and jennette, they choose to love each other and i think that’s so sweet. peak writing there spoon 💓🤧
also it’s like. a really good depiction of mental illness too (even if it was maybe? unintentional bc we only see the dark thoughts a few times, when claudes in a coma, especially but that works great because it often just. lingers and that’s why ppl don’t get treated until it’s serious and more dangerous.) she’s high functioning. i can see a lot of typical behavior? for some of us it impairs us, won’t let you even get out of bed or take care of yourself. losing interest in things you liked before is common etc but for others! work and study and it’s SO hard and there’s bad thoughts and all you can do is. eat something because food doesn’t really fail ever. smile! distract yourself by doing daily tasks, etc ☠️ i hope this isn’t too tmi i don’t wanna overshare. maybe someone will relate lmao. ANYWAYS the amnesia arc, this is my favorite lucas, sort of. like you know how i’ve said before that i have a love-hate relationship with this dude. this is kinda why, i wanna elaborate 😭. because im so angry at him right now
ok so yes lucas is not great! and his relationship with athanasia is... uhh! kinda unhealthy 🥴 like i feel like athanasia clings to him because he’s literally the only person who is there, but not under normal circumstances it’s not really an effort on his part because he’s super powerful and he’s not in actual danger. so he can’t really relate to the magnitude of these events like a normal person would. he thinks blowing things up is gonna solve their problems (that’s not problem solving lucas) when something traumatic happens lucas is put there so we associate security to him. you also said that he’s been a victim of abuse. so i can understand why things are happening like this (i’m not happy about it though they could have written something better😔) it’s sort of like clinging to people who show you the bare minimum of what is kindness because well. you’re scared of loneliness perhaps. or, you aren’t used to others being kind to you, and it feels nice. this can make some mentally ill people easy to manipulate, AND it can make others too clingy or controlling. i see it something like that. maybe in my case i like him bc of this? ☠️ i’m speaking from experience here
maybe athy has associated security with lucas. sense of security and the few instances where he’s kind, bc he’s bitch shaped, in the middle of all of the uncertainty. it’s not the best support someone could be giving and he’s definitely not a good person, but no one (jennette should but also we know they’re pushing for lucas/athanasia interactions so they just won’t let her be there with athy ugh 😩) else is there when athanasia is having these traumatic experiences (again probably doing this on purpose and it DOES sound manipulative doesn’t it? not lucas, the writing). i was actually expecting character development for lucas bc of the amnesia arc.
i finally saw him caught off guard for once, because athanasia is actively having “dark thoughts” (i’m calling them that but i really mean suicidal this is where i get the idea she did kill herself), and he didn’t want to show her the world tree branch because he’s scared she will die, that she will “leave him”. he cares for her but it’s a little more on the unhealthy side bc they’re both mentally ill. moving on. he also shows her the tree branch because hes scared she is feeling hopeless (very depressed). sure it hurts but if it means she stays alive, he will try to aid her if it makes her feel better. when he sees her like this, he relents and shows her it. the tree tells her of this method to cure her dad, and he gets angry because it will put her in danger and it’s uncertain that it will actually work. see, this is where i actually liked lucas. helping claude isn’t possible for him. in contrast to how he talks about aeternitas being weak, and being out of touch because well he’s THE wizard. this is one of the few things that he cannot do, so he is sort of in the same place as athy right now. a feeling of helplessness? he can’t do anything, as powerful as he is, to cure her father. and you know? it’s nice. i wish he had stayed like this.
if they hadn’t made him so powerful i would have actually preferred him more as a love interest. it’s really difficult to connect to him because he is almost invincible most of the time, except for in the amnesia arc. before and after this time period, he is more cocky and so sure of himself, it’s like he can’t bring himself to feel empathy for others. so when i saw him be sensitive and unsure i wanted him to keep going on this path of becoming a better person, a better friend for athy, and realizing that he’s not all powerful. just because someone is mentally ill doesn’t excuse being a jerk, and two mentally ill people being in a relationship doesn’t mean that the relationship has to be toxic! but there’s steps in order for it to work and so they don’t sink together... athy and him could have actually helped each other (i’m not saying fix each other here, that’s not how it works) if he could just open up and be vulnerable, ack if they didn’t try to paint him as the usual love interest all the time. same as her! i want her to talk about her trauma and her problems to someone so bad, lucas knows she reincarnated, but they don’t talk about it. unfortunately the narrative is pushing the typical shoujo josei approach which has toxic gender roles and its so boring 😔😔 the incredibly strong and possessive ml and a weaker fl who needs help. right now i dislike lucas a lot, aack like really... he’s gone back to being inconsiderate and a bitch. hate it here
the only other person i know of that helped athy was my boy kiel, but! this child did have a lot to risk, in contrast. by running after athy he’s going against not only his own family but against claude which means sort of... certain death for him. he’s ACTUALLY contributing to this relationship by sacrificing things, putting effort in order to help her. hell, falling in love with her was probably one of his first choices. something that is “him”. it’s struggling if you’re a normal human person. again, we could have kiel and jennette to balance out the lucas and claude interactions but they are REALLY pushing for a lucas thing here bc he’s the novel’s love interest so they will reduce kiel to a second thought when i really think, even if he isn’t an all powerful wizard, that he could offer better support to athanasia and relate more to her than, well, most characters would, and in a healthy way. he would be more sensitive and would comfort her, not saying that they could simply solve it by destroying things but actually telling her, that yes, she’s right, that’s a very difficult situation and she shouldn’t have to go through that. he would not be able to fully understand but he’d try to help her in any way possible. because he was always on her side. it’s honestly great. there’s probably symbolism in there but i��m too stupid to notice. something about changing your fate. there’s certainly parallels between athy and kiel because they’re both changing the future. making choices for THEM. choosing to follow happiness. 🧍something like that someone will probably say it better than i ever will. 👉👈
and last, but not least, i wanted to talk about claude. it’s a similar situation with claude and lucas. he’s the only father athanasia ever had (unfortunately) and any fatherly love athy ever received is from him even if this dude REALLY needs to stop projecting and being violent and distant there’s so many things wrong with claude and he’s so complex. i enjoy his character but he’s a horrible father. at least he’s trying now unlike a certain black cat with red eyes instead of green ones. athanasia actually confronts him... anyways. mental illnesses are often hereditary (i’m not opening MY can of worms though but it runs in the family) we see how VERY unhealthy family dynamics have traumatized the obelian royal family for generations (aka intergenerational trauma babeyyy 🗣😩☠️) and it finally culminates in ana being possessed by aety, in claude becoming a tyrant, in him executing athanasia, and jennette unintentionally making him worse. aeternitas takes over the throne and well. it’s kinda the end of the empire lol.
we can see how this environment affects athanasia, in the first timeline especially, it is a reflection of her life the second time around, and the third time again. sure, she didn’t exactly inherit claude’s alcoholism (i’d recommend she doesn’t risk it though. stay away from alcohol) or violent behavior, BUT she is definitely suffering from a mental illness (like most obelian royalty) and she has also adopted the tendency of drowning herself in work just like he does. and she’s a little desensitized to the violence. it’s a bit of a softer blow because she didn’t internalize it as much as if she had been a baby, being an adult in a child’s body. but it’s still there. and claude got the most of it, a lot more than anastacius did. being an illegitimate child, etc. the person who got away from all of this mess and broke the cycle of abuse is jennette. she was raised in the alpheus manor and we can’t say roger is the best father because he has a lot of flaws. he’s using jennette and pushing ijekiel to be the next head, and probably instilling the wrong ideas in both of them since they were children. he’s put them both in danger with their greed. however, that will always be better than living in the palace. jennette has been affected by the way she was raised but in a very different way than she ever would have had she lived in the palace. ana will not be the best father either, but he hasn’t been in claude’s position who was most subjected to trauma in that same place than anastacius ever was. so he’s not on his level of fucked up, fortunately jennette will be ok with him.
i think jennette and ijekiel should have stayed closer to athanasia and they have a lot more importance than many people give them credit for. it’s a breath of fresh air from everything heavy that happens around her. hell, not even lucas was free from abuse and he has a lot of issues stemming from abandonment etc. they’re sort of the healthiest bonds athanasia has and she NEEDS those! she really does. i think i’ve talked too much already, 😭 idk what it’s supposed to be. analysis? rant? being angry that there’s SO much potential for more themes because the word building is simply incredible? so i’ll leave it here. thanks for listening and if you’ve read until here! don’t wanna force you to answer or anything. and sorry for clogging ur inbox
Headcanon accepted! I like to hc LP Athy to have an Avoidant Personality Disorder & depression. This is probably contradicted by canon since Lithium said LP Athy crying was so out of the character that even Claude was suprised by her breakdown but since it's the only panels where she has dialogue I imagine her to be similar to Hilise Inoaden in her first life: cries easily but only at night when she's alone by herself, hypersensitive, feels unsafe in big crowds or when alone with strangers, clings to every gesture that can be interpreted as kindness, tendency to excuse the actions of the people she cares about (really how has she not lost hope for Claude in those 18 years of her life facing his rejection and the noblility's mockery?).
Talking about mental illnesses being heredity, baby Claude could have also ended up with an Avoidant Personality disorder if he hadn't freezed his heart, I think. But now I hc him with an Antisocial Personality Disorder, Like Lucas.
But I don't think wmmap is good representation of mental illness. You could argue that Lucas' and Claude's "psychopathic/sociopathic" tendancies are mainly caused by dark magic and not their childhood trauma. Like even though Claude seems to have ASPD, baby Claude never showed signs of a conduct disorder. I know this isn't a must but still. Athy's trauma only gets bought up when spoon needs to stirr drama between her and Claude. It doesn't really impair her much in her everyday life. There isn't a day where she has a hard time getting out of bed or a day where she tries pursuing her hobbies but nothing brings her joy anymore. She still manages to be productive. She had no problems to interact with strangers and blend in with the tea party girl's in high society, even though their mother's betrayed her later and some of them surely did the same in the first timeline (ignoring Athy in favour of Jennette), yet she doesn't really harbour any resentment against the noble's that harmed her in her first life.
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morganaspendragonss · 3 years
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I wish you would write a fic where tk has a bad day with his depression and can’t even get out of bed and is so anxious and carlos helps make sure he’s okay and takes care of him :)
holly's august extravaganza day 12: let me love you when your heart is tired
anon i sincerely apologise for turning your prompt into a personal therapy session. i want to put an extra warning on this fic because it deals heavily with themes of depression and there are a couple of lines that could be interpreted as suicidal. it's taken from my own personal experiences of depression, and i do not claim to speak for anyone else suffering from this.
if you think this fic could trigger you in any way, please don't read. stay safe folks 💚💚
ao3 | 1.1k | depression, mental illness, implied suicidal thoughts, hurt/comfort
TK knows it’s going to be a bad day from the moment he opens his eyes. Exhaustion settles heavy into his bones, his entire body a dead weight, like he’s chained to the mattress with a hundred tonnes piled on top of him. This pressure, this tiredness—it’s all he can feel, all he knows; it’s all-consuming, and far too familiar.
Slowly, slowly, each twitch like he’s moving mountains, he inches his hand blindly across the bed to reach out for Carlos. If he can just feel his boyfriend, if he can just see him—
But, of course. Carlos has a shift today. TK has a vague recollection of him getting out of bed at five this morning, rousing him with a shift to the mattress and a gentle kiss on the forehead.
If this were a normal day, he might smile at the memory.
He can’t remember if he’s supposed to go to work today. He thinks, maybe, it might be a day off, but he honestly doesn’t know. And… He’s not sure he cares. No, he knows he doesn’t. His chest feels like it’s gaping and empty, but still there’s no room for anything inside. They’ll be better off without him anyway, if he does in fact have a shift; there’s no way he could competently insert an IV or bandage a wound when lifting a finger is a near impossible task right now.
Rolling onto his back takes two minutes longer than it should, the sheets getting trapped under his body in a way he can’t bring himself to fix and his arm bouncing freely when it lands on the mattress. The weight tying him down has shifted now, sitting squarely on top of his chest, turning even breathing into a chore.
He can breathe, it’s just… It would be so much easier not to. It would be so much easier if he could just close his eyes and drift away from it all for a little while, and maybe when he next woke up things would be different. Better.
Get up, his mind tells him, unbidden.
And TK would love to, truly. His eyes fix on the door, but it may as well be a million miles away for how easy it seems to get to.
Get up, again, get up, get up, get up.
TK sighs, a long exhale that makes the weight feel that bit heavier.
Get up.
He scratches his nails along the bottom sheet.
Get up.
His arms tremble as his muscles work against their will to push him semi-upright.
Get up.
He almost falls back down, but somehow he doesn’t. Somehow, he manages to get his legs over the side of the bed, back bent with the weight of the effort it’s taken to get here. Standing takes even more time and walking is another matter entirely, his brain, just as slow as the rest of his body, having to coach him through each and every step.
When he finally gets downstairs—
(and, god, the stairs. tk had stood at the top of them for too many minutes to count, staring down and resisting the urge to give up then and there. he thought he’d fall on the way down, then thought that maybe that wouldn’t be such a bad thing. by the time he got to the bottom, the whole ordeal was already starting to fall into a distant memory, like it had happened to someone else)
—When he finally gets downstairs, he doesn’t bother with a bowl, or a spoon, or any of the normal breakfast requirements. He carelessly pulls a box of cereal from the cupboard and digs into it with his hand, but it tastes like dust on his tongue and sticks in his throat, and he barely manages to chew twice before realising that this, too, is more effort than it’s worth.
He’s not even sure why he came down here. He’s not hungry, or he doesn’t think he is.
The box gets abandoned on the counter, and TK begins the arduous process of dragging himself back upstairs, his entire body aching for bed.
The next few hours pass in a haze, TK alternating between scrolling mindlessly on his phone and staring blankly at the ceiling, or whichever spot is within his eyeline. He’s not picky. No messages come through from his dad or Tommy or the team, so he guesses he didn’t have a shift, which is probably lucky. One does appear from Carlos, letting him know that he’s going to be back later than expected due to a massive pile-up.
TK sends a thumbs up back, but his heart sinks even further.
He must fall asleep at some point, because after what feels like a blink, the room is significantly darker than he remembers it being and there are noises coming from somewhere in the house. TK’s brain is on a lag, so he barely registers the sounds as something to potentially be worried about before the bedroom door opens, revealing Carlos on the other side.
“Hey,” he says, smiling softly. “I didn’t mean to wake you.”
TK blinks at his boyfriend, taking a second to remember how to work his tongue, then responds, “S’okay.” The words are little more than a breath, and his eyes drift shut almost as soon as they’re out, his energy back to zero after the exertion.
He hears Carlos coming closer, then the sound of something being placed on the nightstand, near his head. A hand strokes down his face and lips brush his forehead, the touches light and feeling like both too much and not enough all at once.
“I got you some water,” Carlos whispers. “Think you can drink some, sweetheart?”
TK forces his eyes open again, catching sight of a glass, a granola bar sitting next to it. Carlos helps him to sit up, and TK takes the water in a trembling hand, managing a few sips, though a couple of drops spill over onto the sheets. He flops back down as soon as the glass is safely back on the nightstand, spent, but the smile Carlos gives him makes it worth it.
The granola bar goes ignored, but Carlos doesn’t push the issue. Instead, he walks round to his side of the bed and sits, propping the pillows up and settling himself so that TK’s head rests against his waist. A second later, there’s a hand in TK’s hair, brushing gently back and forth, the rhythmic motion doing what words can’t and settling something inside him.
The weight isn’t gone, but it has lessened, if only by a tiny bit.
Maybe tomorrow will be a better day.
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atths--twice · 3 years
Text
Breaking the Silence
As they sit down to eat a meal together, Mulder shares some information that leaves Scully asking questions.
A little idea came to mind and I ran with it. Hope you enjoy this bit of silly fluff. ❤️
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“Thanks. Keep the change,” Mulder said and Scully smiled as the door closed and the delicious aroma of Chinese food hit her nostrils.
He set the bags down on the dining room table and went into the kitchen to get plates and silverware. She opened the first bag and started taking out containers, her stomach rumbling.
“Here you go,” Mulder said, handing her a plate and sitting beside her. He pulled the egg rolls toward him, placing one on her plate and two on his own. She handed him the rice and he nodded, scooping a spoonful onto each of their plates.
Watching him as she picked up another container, she smiled. He looked around the table and opened the next bag, taking out another container and grinning. Setting her container down, she put her hand on his arm and he turned his head to look at her, his eyebrows raised.
She leaned forward, keeping her hand on his arm, squeezing gently. He met her halfway and kissed her softly. Twice more, and he pulled back, though she did not, her eyes opening slowly as she smiled.
“Hmm,” she hummed and he chuckled, leaning close to kiss her once more, smiling as he tilted his head, asking her a silent question. “Just…” She shrugged and he nodded, turning his attention back to the container of food in his hands.
Clearing her throat and moving her hand, she licked her lips as she picked up the container in front of her.
“Beef and broccoli?” she asked, tipping it toward him and he shook his head. “Really? I thought you liked it?”
“I do. It’s just… the broccoli makes me gassy. And well…” He smiled at her and she chuckled softly, understanding what he meant.
“Well, I guess that’s more for me then,” she said, scooping some onto her plate as he made an odd sound. “What?”
“It’s… it’s broccoli. It causes gas. Not just for me.” He looked at her and she blinked her eyes. Once. Twice. And then she set the container down.
“What are you saying?” she asked, crossing her arms and giving him a mock frown.
“I didn’t say anything.”
“You implied. Heavily.”
“I was simply stating a fact about broccoli. Raffinose, the sugar in broccoli that remains undigested until the bacteria in your stomach ferments it, produces gas which makes you bloat… and can cause flatulence.”
“Hmm. As a scientist, I am aware of that.”
“Good.”
“The part of the comment I’m focusing on however is when you implied it wasn’t just you it happened to,” she stated and he nodded, his lips quirking into a smile.
“Out of billions of people in the world, I’m sure it’s not.”
“That’s not what I meant.”
“Then what did you mean?” he asked, setting the container down and leaning close to her. She narrowed her eyes at him and he grinned wider. “How long have I known you?”
“Excuse me?” she asked, trying to fight back a smile, knowing exactly what he was not saying. He tilted his head with a shrug and she wanted to kiss the smile off his face.
“How many crappy diners, bad takeout, and late nights have we shared? Wreaks havoc on the digestive system.”
“Say what you’re not saying, Mulder,” she said in a low voice and he drew in a deep breath.
“Broccoli gives you gas. It makes you fart.”
“Take that back,” she whispered, still fighting back a smile.
“Nope.”
“Take. It. Back.”
“Nuh uh,” he said softly, leaning even closer and she began to breathe faster.
She pulled back and scooted her chair away from him a bit. He laughed and grabbed the seat of the chair and pulled her back, despite her mock protests. He stared into her eyes and she shook her head.
“Seven years together, Scully. Bad food, late nights, being a human… you fart. I’ve heard it.”
“How… dare you,” she said in a low tone and he grinned, his thumbs rubbing her thighs through her pants. She stared at him as he licked his lips, biting the bottom one, and she swallowed hard wanting to be the one biting his lip. “You’re not going to take it back?”
“The truth?” he asked, shaking his head. “I’ve spent the majority of my life searching for it, why would I deny it when it’s right in front of my face? Or my nose, as it were.” He grinned, his hands moving down to hold her calves, massaging them gently.
“You…” she started to say, but was cut off when he kissed her, his tongue licking at her lips and she moaned, holding back from touching him no matter how much wanted to do so.
“I’m not taking it back,” he said against her mouth and she stood to her feet, pushing away from him.
“Then I guess I’ll find something else to eat,” she said, starting to walk past him and he whipped around in his chair, grabbing her around her waist, pulling her back and onto his lap.
“What are you doing?” he whispered into her hair and she laughed, turning until she was facing him, wrapping her arms around his neck.
“I would hate to cause you to suffer through my horrible gas when I eat one of my favorite meals. I’ll just have whatever’s in the refrigerator.” She kissed him quickly and started to push off of him, but he held her tightly, not allowing her to move.
“You’re welcome to, but you won’t find anything in there, and we have a delicious meal right here-”
“Which apparently gives me gas and makes me fart,” she said flatly and he locked his hands around her waist with a smirk.
“Have I ever complained before?”
“Was sex on the table before?”
“This table?” he joked, raising an eyebrow.
“The collective table, Mulder,” she answered with a look.
“Oh. Well then, no. It wasn’t.” He smiled and she nodded as her stomach growled loudly, her eyes widening.
“Traitor,” she whispered, looking down at her stomach with a shake of her head. Looking back up at him, he raised his eyebrows as his eyes searched her face. “I know that broccoli makes me gassy.”
“And…?”
“And that broccoli is delicious, which is why I like to eat it,” she said, knowing that was not the answer he was looking for.
“And…?” he said again, smiling as his thumbs rubbed the skin where her shirt had risen above her waist.
“And… you apparently think it makes me fart.”
“It does. No apparently about it. But that’s not an admission.”
“Nor did you ask for one,” she said with a smile, shifting on his lap and causing him to moan.
“Hmm…” he hummed, with a nod. Looking to his right, he unlocked his hands and reached behind her. She looked over her shoulder and saw he was taking a large piece of broccoli from the container.
Staring at her, he put it in his mouth and chewed it up. She grinned as she watched him, shaking her head incredulously. He reached out again and brought another piece out, offering it to her. She opened her mouth and he placed the broccoli inside, watching her as she chewed.
“Until this very second,” he said, licking his fingers clean. “I would never have thought of broccoli as an erotic food.”
“Especially with it’s… explosive history,” she stated with a grin as he licked his finger slowly and then smiled.
“Especially because of that,” he agreed. “But we’re both in it now.”
“You are. I will only feel gassy. That’s as far as it will go with me. You on the other hand…”
“Well…” He reached for another piece and ate it. “Here’s to some funky odors later.” She smiled and reached for the container, holding it as she picked out two more pieces and put them in her mouth.
“To funky odors then.”
“An admission… finally.” He smiled as she chewed and once she had swallowed, she kissed him.
“I admit nothing,” she whispered and he laughed, as she kissed him once again, the taste of broccoli beef on his tongue.
46 notes · View notes
cybernaght · 3 years
Text
Guardian rewatch: Episode 3
First of all, wow. When I decided to post those online, I was expecting that they would be read by two people, both of whom I personally know. It was in equal part surprising and terrifying that so many of you ventured here. Thank you for reading, I really appreciate it. 
Episode 3 is probably my favourite case. It’s not perfectly strung together, there is little actual investigative work in it, but it’s a beautiful story of boundless love and devotion, which echoes through the relationship between our protagonists
Professor Shen is looking at some materials that are looking suspiciously like research into something supernatural, when Zhang Ruonan makes an appearance at his office, claiming that she is absolutely fine, while clearly being very far away from fine. This is something Shen Wei can certainly relate to, because he is the king of hiding his ailments from others. 
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Zhu Hong’s one-sided affection for Zhao Yunlan starts to show already in this episode:  while he has the cold, she nags him to take care of himself, shoves tissues into his hands, and presses him to drink his meds. It’s easy to imagine even this early on that she will be the woman drunk dialling him one day. 
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I know this could be seen as straightbaiting, but I honestly thing that the actual purpose it serves in the show is the opposite; I’ll talk more about it when we get there.
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Zhao Yunlan spends a lot of this episode in Shen Wei’s office, starting with this scene, in which is obviously flexing. Not only does he sneeze all over the office, he goes to eat Shen Wei’s cake after specifically being told not to eat it.  He also takes his opportunity to mix questioning with flirting, as is his usual way. He keeps eye contact while spooning cake into his mouth, as he explains, jovially, that another mysterious death on his campus cannot possibly be a coincidence. And, to be fair, he is not really wrong. We are meant to believe that this is all set in motion by Zhu Jiu, aka the least scary villain in the history of villainy, and an owner of your staple baby goth wig. I will not mention him again until the plot makes it impossible for me not to do so. 
Zhang Ruonan comes in, and Zhao Yunlan introduces himself as Shen Wei’s good friend. Which is half-way between a flex and an act of kindness. On one hand, he could have said he was from the police - which would be absolutely true - and risk tarnishing the professor’s good name. On the other hand, he could probably look less pleased with himself. Shen Wei, at the very least, looks neither grateful, nor amused. 
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Zhao Yunlan asks her if she new the victim and she looks incredibly shifty as she flees. He is right to think that something is up, and he correctly assumes trauma, rather than guilt. We can now start to see that he is very very good at reading people. It must be equal parts thrilling and disconcerting for him to have met something who he decisively cannot read. Shen Wei vouches for the woman, partly, surely, because his Hei Pao Shi sense is tingling, letting him know that someone is eavesdropping. 
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Despite feeling uneasy, Shen Wei still offers Guo Changcheng, who is left to collect various paperwork from his desk, a little smile. He has a reason to like Xiao Guo, of course: he was the one to see the young man’s kindness and understanding, and he is already growing protective of him, way before he will start seeing members of the special unit as his people. This reminds me of how many months later, he will subtly, but decisively stop a barrage of verbal abuse against Xiao Guo by dropping a pair of chopsticks. 
Zhao Yunlan is taking Xiao Guo with him on the case rather than anyone else, partly, supposedly, because of Guo Changcheng’s familial connections. The young man looks more sure of himself, asking correct questions, dutifully records answers. He also tries to look after his Chief by asking him to go home and rest. He does phrase it badly, but Zhao Yunlan has a thing against his own health and well-being, so he reacts extra poorly.
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Soon after, Zhao Yunlan’s at Shen Wei’s office yet again, as Shen Wei tries his best to ignore him, in the hope that he… well, maybe not goes away, but does not ask him anything that will require him lying. Instead, Zhao Yunlan is asking Shen Wei why he is bad at reading people, which is a very strange thing to ask. Shen Wei answers his question with a question, “Will seeing through people really lessen the hurt and disappointment?” Adding, “Many tragedies were destined from the beginning”. He looks well.. like this as he says it. 
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This is loaded. On first glance, it’s a pretty good set-up to the way this story will unfold, as a tragedy of two individuals who let their devotion to each other nearly ruin each other’s life. A fragile human and a dangerous powered Undergroundian: what else is that, but a tragedy, waiting to happen? But this story - this one right in front of us - will not end tragically, at least not for the two people it enters around. It could do so, but it will not. Maybe, this truly is the first hint that this entire narrative, so carefully set up from the very first time Zhao Yunlan and Shen Wei meet, is destined to be a tragedy. Moreover, that it must be one, for some cosmic reason. 
(… I apologise while I go have a little cry in the corner. Damn you, Guardian, why do you make me hurt so much?)
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Da Qing inexplicably morphs from black cat to a human in white t-shirt while doing night shadowing, and promptly falls asleep on patrol. Why is he being sent to stake anyone out? He is least suitable for it.  He is literally a cat. He sleeps 16 hours a day. 
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Surprisingly, when pressed, Zhang Ruonan comes clean very easily, revealing that she was a victim of the three students she failed (two of which are already dead and one one standing right next to them), who lured her out at night, which left her vulnerable to be attacked. Zhao Yunlan listens to this story, and instead of… oh I don’t know, perhaps asking her the identity of the third student, leaves to go find that out for himself. It is heavily implied that he does it on purpose, which is definitely not okay.  
Moreover, he goes and... asks Shen Wei. This makes me suspect that he’s not really thinking with his head at this point. As he does so, he is brandishing a letter opener. 
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Shen Wei is looking even less impressed with him than he did during their last few conversations. 
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Zhao Yunlan is a little bit flippant when it comes to students’ lives this episode. And yes, they have done something really quite horrible to another human being, but that's not a very good excuse to let the last of them just die. As it happens, the situation Yunlan created - perhaps on purpose - did lure out Zhao Ruonan’s murder girlfriend, but it also cost a student his life. Which is far from ideal, but is somehow never even mentioned. Instead of being aghast, he sits on the table as he goes into full interrogation mode. (As he will continue to do a lot. Sometimes he crouches on tables instead. There is no further point here, apart from: I like this character quirk. It’s a nice character quirk.)
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He brings some of his team in at this point, and asks Zhu Hong to continue interrogation. It would be a nice gesture is he did not interject two questions in. 
“How do you regard your relationship with Wang Yike?”
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“We are family.”
They are definitely, decisively not going for sisterly bond here. Which is kind of incredible. This is one of the moments the amorphous being that show is looks at the censors, wiggles its battered low budget eyebrows at them, and then proceeds to flip them off. Well done, Guardian. 
Wang Yike calls Zhang Ruonan, saying there is one more victim she needs to take care of, and Lin Jing traces the call back to campus. Zhao Yunlan, who did not even bat an eyelid at a dead student earlier, now looks decisively worried  
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“Oh no. Professor Shen.” 
The only reason Shen Wei is attacked is jealousy. Wang Yike does not know this of course, but trying to kill him is a bad move, because a) he has long ago given his heart away, and is definitely not interested; b) this is probably the only thing she could do to make the man on the case very very upset; c) Shen Wei’s immune to her powers. 
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“Someone like you will never understand what she means to me!” Wang Yike shouts eventually. “As long as I can protect her, my life has worth!” And, even as Wang Yike has no way of knowing it, these are the words that ultimately save both her and her loved one. Because Shen Wei does in fact understand what Zhang Ruonan means to her. His own endless and ultimately self-destructive devotion is his main driving force.
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Shen Wei pretends to be hurt, again, which earns him a half-hug from the object of his devotion. If Zhao Yunlan does notice that Shen Wei should really come out of this attack grey haired and dead, and not just mildly inconvenienced, he chooses not to say anything. 
Worried about her murder girlfriend, Zhang Ruonan rushes in and accidentally touches her. Zhao Yunlan Freaks The Hell Out. Shen Wei does, too, but in his own, reserved, way. They are both emotionally invested in those two people, although for very different reasons: Shen Wei is acutely feeling resonance of his own past in their story, and Zhao Yunlan, I think, wants to fix it, he wants to be able to make it better. Instead, Shen Wei fixes it for him, turning the tide on this tragedy, and giving it a happy ending. He heals Zhang Ruonan right in front of the officers of SID, albeit with much subtlety. (“Have someone saved her right under our noses?” Zhu Hong will snort the very same evening, and she will be 100% correct.)
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Shen Wei also lets Wang Yike go despite the undeniable fact that she did kill three people. Here, he is looking at the picture of this human/Undergroundian couple, surviving despite all odds, and touches his only reminder that Kunlun really was in his life. 
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He then burns the picture as the only evidence that Wang Yike was not punished by him for her crimes. 
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In the end, Guo Chengcheng is making first of his many diary notes about the events, recounting a conversation between Shen Wei and Zhao Yunlan we had not witnessed, in which Shen Wei mentioned a relationship based on devotion that can last a thousand years, and Zhao Yunlan called such a relationship “guarding”. Finally, Guo Changcheng hopes that he can become a guardian of all. 
And this is making me think that this absolutely should be a set-up for him becoming a wick of the guardian lantern, as per every single other decision that was made prior to the last two episodes. Right? This is a perfect foreshadowing, and mentioning it here, so early in the show would not make any sense if it were a deliberate subversion. So, was Guo Changcheng meant to become the wick after all before... what, some rewrites happened? What made the final episode be what it was in the end?
(This is a genuine question by that way, if anyone has any insight on the matter.)
The episode would end here, if this was a western show, with a familiar monster of the week structure, but it does not. At least, the way it ends is reminiscent of a cliffhanger, with Zhao Yunlan catching Shen Wei in a middle of a crime scene, and looking betrayed. 
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Next episode: Lynchian Nightmare, aka people without faces. 
PS.
I did not have a seamless way to stick this in anywhere but... Shen Wei’s technological ineptness at the max: he does not know how to use a Polaroid camera. Help him, he is so lost.
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——
Second point of housekeeping to say a few things: 
I don’t think I will be consistent with certain things being transliterated versus translated. I am more likely to use Hei Pao Shi rather than Black Cloak Envoy (because the later reminds me of Tuxedo Mask, which makes me inwardly giggle every time) but at the same time I am also more likely to use Underground/Undergroundian rather than Dixing/Dixingren. I am more likely to use Xiao rather than Little, but have called Chu Old rather than Lao before. I hope that’s not grating, but do tell me if it is
My recaps are Shen Wei-heavy. I have no real explanation for this, apart from.. I like Shen Wei. 
I realise that there will definitely be things here that are head canon and speculation rather than flat observations; this show is a work of fiction and a work of art, which cannot be interpreted objectively. If you have alternate takes on anything I write in the future, let me know! 
45 notes · View notes
Note
we NEED more ✨soft/protective✨ Lin!! Maybe taking care of Tenzin after he’s hurt or something- reverse the roles!! ❤️👄❤️
Note: Here’s another response to a prompt from @altheasideas. Another Linzin AU.
Title: Respite
One-shot. Let me know what you think. :)
There is a shortage of recent Lin/Tenzin stories so I figured… why not? I feel like this might have been done already but here’s my spin to it following the prompt I received. Hope you enjoy.
--
 Chief Beifong knew there will be a lot of work to be done once they land at Republic city. But for now, she grabbed the opportunity that her sister presented her (“I’ll take care of all the coordination for now – take care of your family.”). It was not often that Suyin offered help without any hidden agenda, but Lin was far too exhausted to think of the ramifications of this decision and opted to take it at face level.
Two down, one more to go, she thought as she pressed the button that closed the door behind her. She pushed forward the cart she got from the airship’s kitchen. There was only one food tray left; she had already delivered the other two meals and then some. Her equanimity was not left unscathed though.
It was perturbing to help the normally capable Bumi bandage himself as he barely cracked a grin at her (he had cracked ribs after all).
It was similarly disorienting to assist the usually limber Kya in changing into more comfortable clothes that would allow better movement with her crutches.
She knew there was a few more hours before they reach Republic City. This gives her enough time…
Taking a deep breath to ready herself for what lies beyond the last metal door, she pushed the button to slide open the door.
“I said I’m not hungry.” A cranky and hoarse voice imposed from the middle of the room.
“That’s too bad,” Lin entered, carrying the food tray and a small medicine bag. “You don’t really have a choice, Tenzin.”
Contrary to popular belief, between the two of them, it is the airbender who is a difficult patient.
She could see the man lying prone on the bed, propped up by several pillows, squinting at her. “Lin.”
It is the first time that husband and wife had been alone since they separated in Ba Sing Se.
Chief Beifong had seen a lot of blood and death in the years that she had been serving in the force. She was no stranger to injury as well (she’s a Beifong, no one would have expected any different).
However, nothing could have prepared her to see her pacifist husband bruised, bloodied, battered and the brink of death.
He had leaned heavily on her when he got down with Mako from the bison. He was vacillating between wakefulness and unconsciousness at the time.
It was jarring to see him in that condition. He had always been her pillar of strength, someone she sought to rely on whenever the going gets rough. For him to need to depend on another person… it was unthinkable.
As someone trained for the police force, she made sure to tamp down any emotions or worries at that time to focus on their task at hand – which was to retrieve the airbenders and hunt down the Red Lotus. She knew that if she let her emotions take over, she would have probably committed something worse than the fate that had befallen the combustion bender. There would have been no going back from that – it could have jeopardized their mission and it was probably something that Tenzin might hold against her. Never mind that she did it for him.
At present, she pulled up a chair at his bedside, placing the food tray on the nightstand.
Finally summoning the courage to address her husband directly, Lin sat down and swallowed drily.
Lin was thankful that all the grime and the blood had been cleaned off Tenzin. On the other hand, it further highlighted each bruise and each cut that littered his face and skin.
She leaned over, gently running her fingers at the lump that that formed near the blue arrow. “You gave us quite a scare.”
You gave me a scare.
“How are Bumi and Kya?” Tenzin evaded addressing the comment.
“They’re in no better shape than you,” The metalbender leaned back, one hand carefully cupping the airbender’s cheek. “They, however, could feed themselves, which is more than I can say for you.” She felt Tenzin lean into her touch. “Don’t even try saying you’re not hungry.” She ran her thumb on her husband’s chapped dry lips. “I know for a fact that you sent out the last staff that Su sent with food.”
Tenzin rolled his eyes but did not refute her.
“Drink some water first,” Lin opened the water bottle she brought. “Please?”
Gingerly, she helped the airbender ease himself to a better sitting position, not missing the several winces the man made while doing so.
Even if Tenzin opened his palm to ask for the water bottle, Lin curled her hand around it, not drawing attention to how his hand shook as he took a sip.
He lowered the bottle and their hands, smacking his now wet lips. “There, does that satisfy you, dear?”
Lin shook her head and twisted to remove the cover of the soup bowl. “Finish half of this, at least.” The appetizing aroma of the lentil spinach soup wafted from the bowl.
“I’m not -.” He began to say before his grumbling stomach interrupted him.
On any other day, Lin would have teased him. On any other day, Lin might have glared at him and probably out of childishness, taken the entire bowl and drank the entirety of it in two gulps, leaving none for him. On any other day, Tenzin might have attempted to wrestle the bowl from her and then feed her himself.
Today was not one of those days.
Instead, Lin threw him a concerned glance as she unfolded a cloth napkin which she placed on his lap.
Tenzin sighed across her, a sound of acquiescence, of defeat.
She blew lightly on a spoonful of soup. She edged closer to draw the spoon to his reluctantly opened mouth.
They repeated this several times in silence before Lin had the strength to voice out her fear.
"We could have lost you."
I could have lost you.
"I had to hold them off." Was the stilted reply, voice cracking from exhaustion and lack of use. "The kids…" He trailed off.
"I know you did," Lin looked down at the bowl, biting her lip, scraping soup stuck at the sides. "They're okay now, both of them."
Their two children, one airbender and one earthbender, had both been at the Air Temple at the time of the attack.
The couple had reasoned that it would be the safer alternative to travelling around the Earth Kingdom with the Avatar.
Lin could not help but think what that decision had almost cost them.
"I don't know what I would have done if you -." She choked up, grip loosening and the spoon clattering on the porcelain.
She quickly turned away, busying herself in tidying the food tray; one hand in a tight fist, a sign that her husband knew to mean that Lin was grappling with containing her feelings.
Tenzin did not fail to notice his wife's red-rimmed eyes when she entered the room. He knew she was trying to keep it together for his sake. Thankfully, Lin thought, he knew better than to bring it up.
The crinkling of foil echoed in the quiet room as Lin inspected the rest of the food tray. "There's also sweet mung bean bun for dessert. Would you want to eat it now?"
Without waiting for a reply, she tore a small piece and bumped the bite-sized bread to his mouth.
As Lin was about to get another piece, Tenzin reached out to grasp her wrist, keeping her hand against his lips. He landed a kiss to her palm while maintaining eye contact. Angling himself painstakingly, he patted the side of his bed.
Come here, the action implied.
Lin could feel her neck heating up.
The action brought to mind a different time and a different place, when their positions were reversed.
I need you with me. Please.
Make me forget what we almost lost.
(Truth be told, that might have been when their youngest was conceived.)
The earnestness in her husband's tired gaze was enough to remove her reservations in joining him in bed.
Lin thanked the spirits for her presence of mind in having the burns from P'Li treated earlier before checking on her in-laws and husband. There was no way she would have been able to hide those injuries from Tenzin.
He did not know about the confrontation with the combustion bender - and Lin wanted to keep it that way.
She fluffed his pillows and lowered the back of the bed.
With cautious and measured movements, Lin climbed in beside him, taking prodigious care not to jostle the airbender or unnecessarily hit his injuries.
Her husband smiled gratefully at her, he tried to circle an arm around her shoulder but found it too painful to stretch.
Instead, Lin pushed herself closer, close enough for their heartbeats to sync. She could feel his hand still shaking as he lightly carded his fingers through her hair in a bid to reassure her.
There was almost no part of him that was not rubbed with salve or wrapped with bandages so Lin had to tread carefully where to place her hand. She settled for a section above his ribs and she reached up to place a kiss on his collarbone.
She did not react to the drops of moisture she felt on her skin, which could only come from the silent tears of the airbender. She recognizes that he needs this, to grieve unobtrusively.
There would be a world of disorder that awaits them. But, just for now, just behind the closed metal doors, they can breathe.
37 notes · View notes
samanthadalton · 4 years
Note
Can you write fanfic ina x mc, mc teach ina how to cook? Your works are great💖 Thank you❣️
aww thank you anon for this idea i really loved it 🥺🥺
parings: Ina x mc (Bea)
warnings: implied sex but mostly just fluff i guess
taglist: @cloud9in
word count: 2.2k 😬 i got carried away
(if there any mistakes i’ll fix it later)
A recipe for disaster
After the convention, things between you and Ina couldn’t have been better. Even though your relationship was hidden from everyone else, Ina finally stopped closing herself off and pushing you away and you couldn’t be happier. You and Ina stole moments after class, where you would stay behind to help ‘clean up’ or moments in her office where you would do anything but work.
One day you randomly decided to teach Ina how to cook since the first time resulted in her totally butchering your ‘I’m sorry you had a crazy stalker dinner’ by letting the sauce of the pasta explode on her. You texted Ina, ‘‼️EMERGENCY COME TO MY DORM‼️’ and never had Ina run so fast in her life, throwing all her papers to the floor in her office, and dashing to your dorm worried that it was another Benji situation. How she managed to get there undetected by the other students is a complete mystery as when she approached the door of your dorm she banged heavily screaming out your name.
You rush towards the door and swing it open to find a wide eyed Ina, her hair slightly ruffled, sweat marginally glistening on her forehead, and her breaths heavy. Before you can speak, she barges into the room,, “So.. what’s.. the .. emergency?” She takes a quick breath between each word as she frantically looks around your dorm room until you can’t help but let out a laugh.
“Jesus Ina, I don’t think the whole dorm heard you shouting my name, why don’t you scream louder?” your voice dripping with sarcasm with a hint of playfulness. Ina turns to face you and sees your eyes gleaming with admiration as flustered Ina is incredibly cute. Ina slightly frowns and closes her eyes and takes a deep breath in. “Bea… is there an emergency or not?”
You guilty stare down at the floor, “well, um not exactly the kind of emergency you’re thinking, but i swear it’s important” you pick your head back up to look at Ina who is massaging her temples with her fingers, “dammit Bea I literally ditched my grading and ran here, what if someone saw me?” she continues to berate you as she goes on about her publisher and her deadlines but stops talking when you slide a finger seductively down her arm.
“I’m sorry Ina” you pout a little giving your best puppy dog eyes look and lean in to whisper in the shell of her ear, “Why don’t you let me make it up to you?”
Ina’s breathing shakes a little as you nibble on her earlobe and she places her hands and your hips and pushes you back slightly to meet her eyes which look less angry and more turned on and she completely ditches her earlier rant, “hmm, what were you thinking?”
Okay she definitely wants to do it right here right now but you mentally remind yourself that you’re on a mission to teach Ina how to cook so you place your thumb on her lower lip and begin to trace the outline of it, “well I was thinking of teaching you a lesson”
Ina perks up at the word “lesson” and you forget that she is wayyy too kinky for her own good. Her eyebrow raises a little and the grip on your waist tightens as her voice drops to a low murmur, “what kind of lesson?”
You lean in slightly teasing her as your breath ghosts above her lips, “a..... cooking lesson” you move your head back and take in Ina’s slightly disappointed but confused look.
“Bea, uh may I remind you of the last time I tried to cook, it didn’t end up so well”
“Well I remember getting you half naked and getting a massage so” Ina sighs heavily and before she can speak, because knowing Ina she’s probably against the idea of a cooking lesson you carry on speaking, “look I know what you’re gonna say and please, do it for me,” You once again pout your lips and stare at Ina hoping she falls prey to your charms as she usually does, “I’ll be guiding you the entire time,” you turn to face the kitchen counter and raise your arm to point at the ingredients placed upon it, something Ina definitely didn’t notice when she first came in. “Pleaseeeee Ina i’ve literally been planning this and it will be so cute.”
“And how exactly would it be cute?”
“I don’t know, i guess fulfilling a domestic fantasy of mine, cooking alongside the person i’m with while we spoon feed each other and all that romantic stuff”
Ina softy sighs and gives you a chaste kiss on your cheek, “fine but don’t blame me when this all goes south, I told you my kitchen skills are abysmal”
You laugh and being to tug her arm towards the kitchen and you place a cute blue apron around Ina’s head and move behind her to tie it up, “Just a precaution, we don’t want a repeat of last time”. Ina playfully swats at your arm and grins, “so what are we making?”
“My favourite comfort food ever, lasagna. My mom used to make it for me all the time back at home especially during times when I wasn’t feeling well or wasn’t having a good day. Lasagna always cheers me up. Well that and pizza.”
Ina stares at you like you’re the most precious thing in the world and then takes one of your hands in hers, “well I’m honoured you’re teaching me to make it, I hope I do it justice.”
You being to prep Ina on the basics of lasagna telling her “it’s all about the layers and cheese. Cheese is the most important part of this dish”.
You start by washing the minced meat as Ina begins to dice carrots, mushrooms, onions, and defrosts peas and sweet corn before washing them all and placing it in a bowl.
“Okay so we gotta cook the meat and the vegetables for a while and then we are going to add in the seasonings and the sauce and let it cook” you stifle a laugh, “make sure to not get it on yourself this time”.
Ina gives out a hearty laugh and shakes her head, “God i’m so embarrassed by that but you better watch out for when I become a culinary master”. She flourishes her arms a little and you retort, “not really a master when you can’t cook pasta”. She laughs and pinches some cheese from one of the bowls and flicks it at you.
You barely manage to dodge it, and your eyes glimmer devishly, “Oh it’s on now”. You and Ina begin to throw cheese at each other until Ina grabs your hands and intertwines your fingers before pulling you towards her, “I didn’t give you a proper thank you for teaching me how to cook” she kisses you sweetly on your lips.
“Well it’s pretty obvious you need to learn, and if we’re going to be together then you need to know how to cook my favourite comfort food at least”.
Ina intensely stares at you, her eyes full of desire and longing, she kisses you again, harder than the last one and the passion between the two of you quickly builds until you’re interrupted by the clanging on the lid against the pot as the water begins to bubble out of it.
“Crap” you quickly move toward the stove turning the heat down a little to let the meat simmer and then dramatically swipe your hand against your forehead, “that would’ve been a disaster, come on stop distracting me, you’re gonna let the food burn”.
“I’m sure the head chef isn’t easily distracted by a few kisses huh?” Ina moves towards you, pulling into another kiss. You indulge in it for a few more moments before pulling away, “nice try but I’ll make sure you know how to cook lasagna even if it’s the last thing I do” you push Ina back a little and she simply smiles.
.....
The two of you carry on cooking the meat and soon it’s time for you to begin layering the lasagna to get it ready for the oven.
“Okay like I said before it’s all about the layers” you give Ina a little demonstration, placing the pasta sheets next to each other before adding some white sauce and cheese and then repeating the step differentiating between using the red and white sauce.
Ina’s fully focused at the task at hand, attempting to perfect the “art of layering” as she called it placing the sauce and cheese in precise places until it’s ready to be put into the oven.
You grab the oven gloves and place the tray inside before closing the over door and turning to Ina, “and that’s pretty much it, it just needs to cook so we can relax for the next 45 minutes”.
Ina groans happily as she slides onto the couch and you pour two glasses of wine and make your way to the living room and give one glass to Ina before settling on the couch yourself.
“Cooking isn’t as hard as I thought it would be, in fact it’s kind of relaxing” Ina takes a small sip of her wine and you can’t help but just stare at her features, her sleeves are rolled up and small drops of sweat glisten on her face, most likely from withstanding the heat from the kitchen. Her lips are curled up in a small smile as she grips her wine glass.
“You’re a natural professor, it makes me wonder if there’s anything you can’t do” You pluck the glass from her hand and place both on the table in front of you and then you move to straddle her.
Ina runs her hands up and down your sides drinking in your demeanour as she tugs the front on your top down and whispers in your ear, “Well right now I want to do you.” She sharply inhales before clearing her throat, “I admit that sounded better in my head than out loud”. You laugh and kiss Ina indulging in her desires as she releases all the pent up sexual tension between the two of you that occurred while you were cooking.
....
A little while later you stand and move towards the hall, “I really gotta go to the bathroom so if the timer goes off Ina just take the tray out of the oven and place it on the stove okay?”
Ina gives you a nod as you go into the bathroom. Not a second later the timer beeps and Ina gets up to take out the lasagna.
While you’re washing your hands you hear a loud clang and you quickly dry your hands and run towards the kitchen. You stop in your tracks when you see Ina kneeling on the floor with the tray of lasagna flipped upside beside her knees while some of it’s contents have splattered all over the floor and somehow on the bottom drawers too.
You bring a hand up to your mouth to cover your gawking while Ina stares devastatingly at the food in front of her, “Bea I am terribly sorry, I didn’t realise how heavy it was and it slipped out of my hands, i-“
You move towards Ina and kneel beside her slipping the oven mitts off her hands, tears glisten in her eyes and you can’t help but giggle a little, “Wow Ina, I mean I knew you were bad at cooking I just didn’t realise you were this bad, I mean the food was practically ready”. You joking tone helps to alleviate some of the worry on Ina’s face but she looks down at the ground again and sighs.
“Hey, I was just kidding Ina seriously it’s okay” you place two fingers under her chin and lift her head to meet your gaze, “seriously I don’t care about the lasagna, I mean we had fun making it didn’t we?”
“Yes I suppose we did. I just wish we were able to enjoy the fruits of our labour.”
You give Ina a quick peck on her lips and whisper, “well how about we order in a pizza and then we can start cleaning up this mess?”. Ina lets out a small laugh, “Well ordering pizza, that I can do without fail”.
You manage to clean up every precipice of the kitchen that was covered in sauce and then you and Ina cuddle up beside each other enjoying your pizza while you put on a random movie to watch.
“I am sorry I messed it up Bea, if I had correctly estimated the heaviness of the tray then I could’ve-
You cut her off with a kiss which she happily returns, you break the kiss and place your forehead against hers, as your eyes bore into hers, “Ina seriously it’s okay, I had fun with you this afternoon and that’s all that matters, maybe next time we’ll do something less complex like burgers?”
You both smile and settle into the couch enjoying both the pizza and each other’s company.
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oss-crime · 3 years
Text
Chapter 2-Project “Ma” –Eve–; Scene 6
Original Sin Story: Crime, pages 56-69
One of the cities that made up the Twelve Royal Capitals was the city of Asmouse.
This town, managed by senate member Ceci Vaju, was the place where the historical backing of the Twelve Royal Capitals was most pronounced.
The people who had once began the excavation of the god’s legacy in this area—Senator Vaju was a descendant of theirs, and he was also a very passionate researcher of artifacts.
Fumbling for a way to more effectively utilize these artifacts, Senator Vaju founded the Royal Research Institute in Asmouse with permission from the previous queen. He entrusted the position of first director to a friend who shared his passion, Horus Solntse.
As their initial goal implied, the Royal Research Institute’s research wound up contributing greatly to the development of Leviantan engineering, weaponry, and living wares. The artifacts could be made to work with magical power, but Horus and the other researchers progressively discovered more effective operating procedures, and brought yet more glory to the Magic Kingdom.
Meanwhile, Senator Vaju and Horus also used the institute to pursue a different avenue of research.
That was “to deliberately create people who have strong magical abilities”. In other words, it was to make a candidate for the next queen be born under the domain of Senator Vaju, and was also necessary research for him to obtain the position of the next senate head.
But that research had proved to be much rougher going than anticipated, and Horus had passed away from illness before they could achieve any results.
Horus had an adopted son named Adam, and he was, too, a skilled scientist. For that reason he was hired on by Senator Vaju as the new head of the institute, and he also inherited their research—the “Next Queen Project”.
--That “Next Queen Project” had now changed its name to “Project Ma”, and was proceeding under the supervision of Head Senator Miroku.
.
…Most of that was inconsequential to Eve.
The important thing was the fact that Eve was, at present, the strongest candidate they had for “Ma”.
Not having much interest in science herself, Eve could only conclude that the Royal Research Institute was a cold, unappealing place.
“Wish I could have had a more comfortable chair.”
Adam gave a slightly troubled smile at Eve’s complaint, handing her a cup with a liquid in it.
“We’ll give that a fix the next time we’re making a device to test magical ability. But for right now this is all we’ve got…Well, anyway, give this is a drink if you like.”
“…What’s this?”
“It’s a drink called coffee. It’s not spread much outside the capital, so it’s understandable if you’ve never heard of it.”
With Eve’s mood souring more under the impression that she was being made fun of as a country hick, she brought the brown liquid to her lips.
“—It smells good. But it’s a little bitter.”
“It’s got a lot of milk and sugar in it. Drinking it should help you calm down a bit.”
“I think I’d be a lot calmer if I could get these wires off my arms and legs.”
“We need them to get an accurate reading of your magic. …It’ll take a little bit of time, so please try to be patient.”
The measuring device they’d used in the village of Nemu was a simpler, portable model.
Though, it wasn’t the fault of that device that they hadn’t gotten an accurate result back then.
“That spoon…is also extremely curious to me, as a scientist,” Adam said, brandishing the blue spoon that Eve used instead of a staff.
“At a glance it looks like a normal, bland item….But it can increase or decrease the magical ability of its owner at will. In other words it can amplify magic and also temporarily put a seal on it—”
“My mother gave it to me.”
“Did she make it?”
“I don’t know. I never learned that.”
“This might also be a legacy piece…Well, we’ll deal with that later.”
Adam set the spoon on a nearby table, and then drew closer to a large box that was next to the chair Eve was sitting in.
“Well, let’s get started.”
He pushed up a lever that was attached to the box.
Suddenly feeling slightly dizzy, Eve fell back a bit in the chair.
“I’m…a bit nauseous.”
“It’ll go away. We have to check to see if that powerful spell you used in the forest…was because of the spoon, or your own magical ability.”
“How…long will it take?”
“Hmm…About an hour, I think.”
“That long!?”
“It’s not like you have to keep perfectly still the whole time. Though you can’t leave the chair. You can drink coffee, or if you’re hungry I can bring you something to eat.”
“Then—” After looking up at the ceiling for a moment, Eve continued, “Can I talk?”
“With me? …Of course, I don’t mind.”
“Then…I want you to tell me something.”
“What is it?”
“About the ‘Witch of Merrigod’.”
Adam’s expression stiffened. “Why would you want to—”
“She’s the one who murdered the father who raised me. Isn’t it only natural that I would want to know about her?”
“What will you do with this information?”
“…Not sure.”
Eve herself didn’t know the answer to that question.
But—
“I can’t just go on not knowing.”
“…”
“Assuming I’ll become queen someday, I mean.”
“…I see. Yes, perhaps…so.” After gazing fixedly at Eve’s face, Adam steeled himself and then started to talk. “The ‘Witch of Merrigod’—Meta Salmhofer was originally an ‘Ma’ candidate.”
“You told me that earlier. But you said she was discarded for being cruel?”
“Yes. If you go southeast of the capital—far, far further east than the village of Nemu where you live, there is a place called Merrigod Plateau. That area is a dangerous region, used as a stronghold by a certain group.”
“…You mean the ‘red devotees’?”
“No, to be accurate those are little more than a single unit of this group. The name for them as a whole—is ‘Apocalypse’. There are some people who say they’re a simple crew of bandits, and there are others who caution that they’re an anti-social organization that seeks to overthrow the kingdom.”
According to Adam, not even the royal capital’s information bureau knew the true situation.
“What we do know is that the leader of Apocalypse is named ‘Pale Noel’. And that he and Meta are lovers.”
“Pale Noel…”
“His age, his appearance…all of it is unknown. Actually, we don’t even know if he’s really a man. Whatever the case, she’s this person’s girlfriend. We needed to exercise extreme caution even to go see them.”
At the time, Adam, Seth, and a few other researchers had gone to Merrigod Plateau with a peacekeeping force led by Gammon following along.
“But…that was a mistake.”
Adam heaved a great sigh.
“We just ended up provoking them. As a result…a small war broke out on Merrigod Plateau. Though that wasn’t what we scientists had intended at all.”
“But that wasn’t the case with the peacekeeping force and Apocalypse…Right?”
“Indeed. Gammon is always looking for glory. It’s like he’s a big bundle of ambition. Even more so after he became the head of the peacekeeping forces. He likely figured he could use his position as bodyguard to crush Apocalypse.”
But his plan ended in failure.
“Meta is an ‘Inheritor of Gilles’. She controlled the soldiers of the peacekeeping force with her power, and they all started firing at each other. Even us researchers, who they were supposed to be guarding, got caught up in it….We had heavy losses. That’s why the institute is still completely understaffed.”
Eve had come along to the institute with Adam, but now that he mentioned it she realized that she hadn’t seen anyone else up to coming to this room.
“How…many scientists survived?”
Adam spread his arms in a grandiose gesture and replied, “Don’t be surprised. Just me and Seth! Though this facility wasn’t very heavily staffed to begin with.”
“I see…How awful.”
Eve had the home where she’d lived destroyed by Meta.
But Adam too had had his friends murdered.
“Yes…Some of them I got along with quite well, and some I frankly didn’t much care for. But none of them deserved to die like that.”
On seeing Adam’s bitter expression, Eve was reminded of her own grief.
“Hey…Just what is an ‘Inheritor of Gilles’ exactly?” she asked, trying to change the mood.
“R-right…An ‘inheritor’ is, well…To put it simply, it’s someone with ‘supernatural powers’.”
“’Supernatural powers’? Unlike magic?”
“In this country there are people who possess ‘special powers’ different from magical power. For example…the white army. We know from our reports that clan has the power of ‘Inheritors of Salem’, able to wield fire.”
“I see…So that was it.”
Eve had always thought that the white army’s usage of fire was through magic, but it appeared this wasn’t the case.
“Among the white army there are people who are magically impotent—that is, they were born without any ability to use magic at all. And yet despite that they are able to use their fire powers just the same as their fellows. …Though I’ve heard that research into the fundamental theory behind it hasn’t progressed very far at present.”
“Is that research conducted here?”
“No. Research into ‘inheritors’ is the purview of Lighwatch Temple. Sir Yegor Asayev, the head priest, is the expert on it.”
“Wow…”
“So, honestly I don’t actually know that much about ‘Inheritors’. Just that they’re divided up into categories by ability, like ‘Gilles’ and ‘Salem’, and that those are based on the names of the god kin—”
At that moment, the box set next to Eve—the magical ability measuring device, started to faintly shake.
“Hey…Is this working okay?”
Eve pointed to the box.
“Hm? …Oh, that’s fine,” Adam replied, gazing at the symbols that popped up onto the box’s screen. “Would you like some more coffee?” he asked her, turning around and noticing that Eve’s cup was empty.
It was a peculiar drink; Eve didn’t find it all that tasty, and yet she kept bringing it to her lips for some reason.
“Yes, please…But before that, one more question.”
“What is it?”
“…Why did Meta go after my father?”
“…That I don’t know.”
His eyes looked somewhat shifty.
Still, Eve couldn’t tell if Adam was playing dumb or not.
“Well then, a different question.”
“You’ve quite a lot of those. I actually have a lot of things I want to ask you, you know.”
“What does the royal capital…or rather, the military, plan to do about Apocalypse?”
“What do you me—”
“They’ve killed a lot of people, right? The people of the village of Nemu, and the people from this institute…’Sin must be punished’…Even I know the laws of this country.”
“…”
Adam took the cup from Eve and left the room without a word.
--In hardly any time at all, he had returned once more with a cup full of fresh coffee.
“Here you go. I put in more milk than last time.”
“Thanks.”
“…They are to keep careful watch over Apocalypse—That is what the military…or rather, the senate, decided.”
“--! Why!?”
“At present, Apocalypse has done no damage to the Twelve Royal Capitals. For the kingdom, the white army and the others are little more than barbarians at their border. The capital’s protection would be imperiled if they moved their security forces against them any further than they have.”
“So you’re saying that as long as the royal capital is alright, it doesn’t matter what happens to the others?”
“…I’m just a mere scientist. What I’ve told you now is just what I’ve heard from Gammon.”
Even if he was involved in a project of great importance to the country, he wasn’t in any position to say much more on the government outside of that—That’s likely what he meant.
Eve could tell that.
She could, but…
“That’s unreasonable. The ruler of a country needs to understand the suffering of its people…I think now I understand why my father hated politics,” Eve muttered, frustrated.
“…”
Adam looked upon Eve in silence for a short while, but eventually he shifted his gaze to the measuring device.            
Then he took up the piece of paper and quill set on the desk and started to write something down.
--Midway through his work, Adam said, still not looking at Eve, “In that case…You should become the ruler.”
“…”
“It seems you have the qualifications for it.”
“So you mean…I can become queen? Has it come up with a result?”
“No, it’s still measuring, but…At this point I’m already seeing some impressive numbers. I think…your magical ability is much higher than that of your father.”
Even so.
No matter how gifted she was, Eve was still just a simple girl who knew nothing of governance.
Would anything change by someone like her becoming queen?
--Appearing to sense her anxiety, Adam set down the paper and quill and drew close to her.
“It’ll be fine, I know it.”
“…”
“I’m sure you can do it.”
“Can I do anything alone?”
“You’re not alone.”
“My father is dead. And the people of my village are gone. I don’t have anyone—"
“—You have me.”
Adam clasped Eve’s hands in his own.
…She couldn’t bring herself to brush aside the warmth in them.
“Do you dislike me?” Adam asked.
“…If I did, I wouldn’t be cooperating with all this…But, what about you?”
Adam had gotten close with Eve just because she might have had strong magic.
She was just a candidate for queen to him.
That was surely the reason for him being so kind to her like this—
“I wouldn’t be trying to have someone I disliked selected as queen,” Adam said plainly. “You’re an enchanting woman. I’ve thought so since the first time I met you.”
“…Didn’t you stab at me with a sword at first?”
Adam burst out laughing at Eve’s reply. “Pfff…Ah haha, that’s true. Please forgive me for that. I was desperate back then.”
“Are you good with a sword?”
“I’ve only learned enough to defend myself…Ah yes, speaking of swords.”
Adam shifted his gaze to a sword that sat in the corner of the room.
“We ended up bringing that over here.”
It was Raisa’s sword, the one that Gammon had thrown to him in the forest.
“It’s an unusual shape…Its current owner is currently in prison. Not much point in returning it.”
“Raisa is…alive?”
“Just barely. Though even if her wounds are healed, thinking on what she’s done…She’s not likely to avoid an execution.”
“…”
It wasn’t just Raisa.
The Witch of Merrigod Meta, and Pale Noel.
In this world, so much—
Evil had spread.
Even if Eve continued to fire lightning as the “Witch of the Forest”, she could never get rid of it all.
It was impossible for one person.
She would need—much more power.
And for that…
Eve chewed her lip.
.
--As though to mock the resolve that had begun to sprout in Eve’s heart, several days later something happened.
Raisa, the white fiend of Jakoku, escaped from prison.
There was no way that she could have accomplished this herself, being near death.
It was likely that an outside person with influence had pulled some strings.
.
Meanwhile, the magical potential measurement result…was suitable for queen candidacy, just as Adam had predicted.
Her M count was over 350…Eve didn’t know how much exactly, but at the very least it was more than enough to secure the agreement of both Adam and the senate.
And with that result, Eve could smoothly become queen—or so she had thought.
<<prev------directory------next>>
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rons-hermiones · 3 years
Text
Come Find Me
Come Find Me
by rons-hermiones
Summary: Unplanned, Hermione is forced to spend Christmas at the Burrow due to her grandmother falling very ill. After being ignored by Hermione for weeks, Ron is determined to show her how much she means to him. Just before he gets the chance to tell her, Bellatrix Lestrange shows up with other plans for Hermione. Can Ron get to her before it's too late? (Ron/Hermione Half-Blood Prince AU)
Rating: M for language & dark themes in later chapters.
Warning: This chapter is dark, probably as dark as it will get. There are heavily implied conversations/thoughts about rape, but not elaborated in any sort of detail. Nevertheless, if that sort of thing triggers you, please wait until the next one.
Chapter Twenty Four
She doesn’t know how much time has passed. She can’t be sure. Everyday is the same. 
Pain. 
Hermione wasn’t crazy. She couldn’t be. 
And she doesn’t think she was. 
Sometimes things were harder to remember than others, but she always worked it out. It was sort of a miracle. 
She’s read time and time again about the effects the Cruciatus Curse has on someone when administered once. Hermione’s lost count of how many times Bellatrix used it on her. 
She was certainly feeling the effects on her body, but not so much in her brain. She almost wishes she could forget it, maybe it would all be easier. 
Forget all the pain this place caused her. How many times she’s had her free will taken from her. All the times she’s had her- 
No. Don’t think about that. 
Hermione never let that cross her mind. She’d rather face Voldemort then relive those moments. 
The only thing keeping her grounded was that book and the mantra she’d often repeat to herself over and over. 
‘My name is Hermione Granger...’
More often than not, the unforgivable curse messes with your cognitive functions. Feelings, thoughts, your five senses. 
Besides the pain that felt like her nerves splitting throughout her entire body, she just couldn’t seem to speak. Deep down Hermione recognizes it’s probably some self inflicted mental block because her silence is all she has at this point. 
It’s just easier to tell herself it’s because there’s been so many silencing spells cast on her. 
Either way, whenever she tries to think up probable reasons, it takes triple the time it used to. She’s easily distracted by a different thought, or none at all, or she simply can’t remember what she thought to begin with. 
However, at the moment, her silence was the furthest thing from her mind. Instead, she was using her hand that wasn’t killing her to clutch at her leg. 
Today she’d been thrown at the wall like a rag doll and harshly banged it on a table in the process. Hermione was positive it was broken. 
The familiar scraping of metal suddenly sounded, making her slink back a little. 
That’s the noise Bellatrix made, wasn’t it? 
No, no, it’s not her. It’s that boy from her school's mother-Drake-no-Draco. Yes. Draco’s Mum. 
“Hello dear. You must eat. I’ve mixed in a bit of skele-gro.” She spoke softly. 
Hermione liked her voice. It wasn’t at all that shrill nails on a chalkboard like sound from Bellatrix. 
With a shaking hand a wince she grabbed the tray. 
“Oh darling, your hand, it looks awful.” She observed through the bars under the candle. 
Her brown eyes looked at it. All crushed and bloodied. It was the werewolf he, no, the witch, yes, Bellatrix. She stomped on it in those awful boots. 
“I’d wrap it but Bella would surely realize...” Narcissa whispers to herself more than the girl in front of her. 
Hermione slowly spooned the awful tasting broth into her mouth. Doing her best not to wretch at it’s taste. 
“What are you going to tell me tonight dear?” Narcissa asked softly. 
This happened each day. The woman would come down and coax a story, a memory, from Hermione in order to help her keep her sanity. 
Talking was becoming more and more of a difficult feat for the young girl, so it was mostly a game of charades. 
Some nights she pointed to her eye remembering, no, teeth, remembering her parents were dentists. A few times she traced a lightning bolt on her forehead for Harry. 
She’d outline the scar on her chest after days of being violated by Dolohov. Or prod at the scratches down her abdomen for after Bellatrix got bored and gave her to Greyback. She even had a few bruises on her neck from Scabior. 
Nights Hermione did that, Narcissa had no choice but to cry. She was just a child. Draco’s schoolmate. 
She did everything in her power to keep those disgusting men from touching her, but unfortunately, when her sister wanted something she got it. 
Narcissa is pretty sure the young girl blocks the whole happening from her brain. She can read it on her face the days they have their way with her. Hermione’s eyes are dull. It’s almost like looking at a ghost. 
And the woman is sure to never bring it up. Sometimes she’ll begin to broach the topic, but it always causes the girl to cry and cower into a corner. Instead she watches as she traces over scratches and bruises as Narcissa just watches. Listens for the small whimpers and offers a hand. 
Today though, the men were nowhere to be found. That fact alone makes Hermione more willing to do their nightly routine. 
It’s all so twisted. Her choices are having the purest thing taken over and over from her or endure the literal torture curse. 
“So what is it going to be?” She reiterates. 
Hermione crawls forward and reaches a hand through the bar. Gently, she tugs at the woman’s hair. 
“Hair?” Narcissa questions. 
Hermione nods, then wildly points at the enchanted candle. 
“Candle?” 
She shakes her head. 
“Flame?” She tries next. 
Hermione nods again, almost excited. 
“Hair flame?” That didn’t sound right, “flaming hair?” She tries. 
Hermione nods, something that looks like a twisted sort of smile comes across her face. But it’s almost like she doesn’t know how. 
Cissy thinks on the subject thoughtfully. It soon comes to her in flashes. Draco mentioning Weasley, Bellatrix and even the Dark Lord taunting the girl using the name Ron. 
“Ron?” She asks shakily. All these nights, she’s narrowly avoided the topic, but she’s seen parts of that book. 
And just like that, hearing his name sends her over the edge. 
Fat tears streak her dirtied cheeks as small heaves escape her mouth. 
“It’s okay dear.” Narcissa whispers, though she feels pathetic. 
Hermione keeps shaking her head as silent sobs wracked her now smaller, frailer, body. 
“W-w-want.” She barely says. 
“I know you want him dear, I’m so sorry.” Tears sting her own eyes. 
Her head shakes again, like that wasn’t what she meant. “W-w-won’t wa-“ she can’t get it out. 
Narcissa gets it now. 
At the heartbreaking thought she pushes open the door to the cell. The sound seems to send Hermione back. 
“It’s okay.” Narcissa whispers, crouching on the ground and holding out her hand. 
“It’s okay.” She says again. 
Slowly, Hermione reaches her good hand out and places it gently on the woman’s almost scared she’ll shift into her sister. 
Gently, she traced the woman’s hand. 
“I won’t hurt you.” The woman knows that’s not true. She’s let this poor girl be hurt for this long. 
“Wo-won’t wa-want m-me.” She chokes, it’s her first full sentence in days. 
Unable to control herself, Narcissa pulls her into a motherly embrace. At first, she stiffens, but soon relaxes and sobs into her shoulder. 
“You’re so brave.” She to the point of tears herself, “you’re so beautiful. Don’t let them break your spirit. Please. Your future is too bright.” Her cheeks are wet. 
Hermione continues to shake. 
If Ron didn’t want her then, no way would he want her now. Not when she’s so, impure, so tainted. 
“You don’t deserve this dear.” She grasped her tighter. 
Feeling so torn. Feeling so much pain for the girl in her arms, she grips her cheeks to meet her eyes. 
“I promise, I’m going to get you out of here.” And just like that it’s decided. She can’t let this go on anymore. 
The words seem to calm the brunette and she attempts to speak, “wh-where?” Where am I? Where are you getting me out of? 
Narcissa seems to understand. 
“Wiltshire.” She begins before gulping, “Malfoy Manor.” 
...
Hermione fell asleep like that. In Narcissa’s arms. It was the most peaceful, most protected she's felt in weeks. 
She vaguely recalls the woman’s promise to get her out. She hopes more than anything it’s true. 
She doesn’t know how much longer she can go on. 
As she opens her eyes, she finds the woman to be gone. She knows that can only mean one thing. 
It’s a new day. Another one of enduring whatever Bellatrix has in store for her. 
And like she could hear Hermione’s thoughts, the mad witch comes sauntering in humming to herself. 
“Good morning!” She says in mock excitement, “you’re in for a real treat today.” 
Hermione shivers. She’s heard that many times before being handed over to Dolohov, Greyback, or Scabior like some doll. 
She begins clapping, “up! Get up!” 
Not wanting to face her wrath if she didn’t, Hermione uses the wall to drag her weak body up. 
From through the bars she can make out the witch pouting, “aw, leg hurt from yesterday. Shame.” She tuts in false concern. 
Soon she flicks her wand as the door creaks open. Roughly, Bellatrix grasps her arm and drags her along, not having the patience of her mangled leg. 
“You see,” she whispers into the brunette's ear as they start up the steps, a dreadful task, “the Dark Lord is here. He’s requested your presence. Behave.” She warns as they reach the top.  
She shivers. Voldemort is far from a welcome sight. 
“Ah, lovely to see you. Sorry I’ve been absent. I’ve been busy.” The snake-like man said as she entered the lavish room. 
Bellatrix let go to stand to his right. 
“I’ve heard you’ve had a very exciting few weeks.” He smiled. It made her stomach clench. 
He stepped forward and placed a cold hand on her cheek. 
“I just want you to know, you’re very, very, important to me.” Voldemort whispered to her, his pungent breath invading her sense of smell. 
She remained firm, looking into his cold eyes. Only one thing was crossing her mind. 
Harry. 
Wherever he is right, she’s praying he’s thinking of her. 
Please Harry, please. I know where I am. Let me tell you. Please Harry, please. 
Nothing happens. She thinks maybe if she brings him up, he’s more susceptible to strengthen the connection. 
“H-h,”
Bellatrix cackles at her struggle to speak. 
“Harry.” She gets out, knowing this is her chance. 
Voldemort eyes her funnily for a moment, not realizing what she’s doing. 
“Ha-Harry P-Potter.” 
“No.” He says, slight ache building at the base of his head. 
Bellatrix’s lips fall into an ‘o’. 
“Harry Po-Potter.” She manages louder, more firm than she’s heard herself speak in weeks. 
His eyes squint shut. She’s almost there. 
“T-the b-boy,” it gets caught in her throat, she takes a deep breath, “the boy who lived.” She somehow gets out. 
This seems to send him over the edge, he collapses onto the ground as his eyes open with a harsh scream. 
She knows this is her chance and summons all the strength possible to get what she needs to say. 
“M-Malfoy!” She yells out, “M-Malfoy!” Hermione yells. “Malfoy M-“ 
Suddenly a rough growl interrupts her as she’s thrown to the ground. 
“Crucio!” The red jet of light hits her chest, making her writhe. 
“Get Greyback!” He roars to Bellatrix who nods and scampers away. 
Soon, a harsh kick is felt in her already bruised ribs. He soon crouches down and roughly grabs her hair to meet his eyes. 
“I told you next time you did that, someone will die!” He screams, her spit coating her face. 
“Who should it be huh?” Voldemort whispers, “the young Weasley girl I befriended all those years ago? How about one of her brothers? What’s the name of the one you so long for, Ronald?” 
She whimpers, shaking her head vigorously, doing her best to apologize. 
“Or how about your lovely parents, I hear Hampstead is beautiful this time of year.” He taunts menacingly. 
Tears trek her cheeks at his words. 
Then, he turns his wand and pushes it right to her heart, “or how about you?” 
He cries become louder, “I’m s-sorry p-p-“ 
He soon moves it away, “no, killing you would be easy. Not when you’re so entertaining.” 
Suddenly loud footsteps fill the room as he releases the grip on her hair, letting Hermione’s head thunk onto the floor. 
“She's yours for the evening Fenrir.” Voldemort grants the hungry werewolf, “do control yourself, I need her ready for the surprise I have planned.”
“Oh! A surprise!” Bella calls excited. 
He nodded to her, “yes, one I’ll need your help with Bellatrix.” 
From the ground Hermione could vaguely see Voldemort whisper something to the witch as she nodded in agreement. Soon, she heard them apparate away as Greyback crawled on top of her. 
She shut her eyes, trying to shut him out, along with the impending worry that Voldemort would keep his promise. 
“Someone will die.”
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nostalgic-pancakes · 3 years
Text
one day (i know that you will be there)
Summary: Here, have some fluffy transbur :D
Pairings: gen everyone, with a specific focus on crimeboys
Read on AO3
Word count: 2070
Warnings: None? I guess? Tell me if there are any, but I don’t see them
Other notes: Part of @noorahqar‘s BANGER discord server Pride Event!
Please DO NOT send this to the CC’s or even imply that this exists because No, Thank you
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Sometimes, it feels like it's okay. Nothing's wrong at all and in fact, Wilbur is happy.
Other times it feels like he's stuck in his own skin, a place he can't get out of.
Wilbur doesn't really know what's going on with his gender. He's always been cis, it's all he knows we it's his comfort zone. Even while his life was being wholly upended by YouTube, and Twitch and life in general, Wilbur's gender was always a constant- the one thing he never worried about or spent too much time on. It was his gender, and it was just kind of...there.
Sometimes when gender is part of the conversation, people display confusion when Wilbur talks about his gender like something separate from him that was tied on and is just there now, like a bit of hair that can never stay in place, but isn't necessarily a bother, either. But isn't gender like that for everyone?
Well, according to the one and only Tommyinnit, no.
"Well… for me, my gender is pretty malleable. It's more of a fucking... fucking abstract concept than a feeling? I'm a little detached from mine, but not as much as that, Wilbs."
"Then what is your gender like?" Wilbur asks. It's late on a Friday night, and Wilbur had ended up visiting Tommy's flat out of mostly impulse, living just under a kilometre away from his sibling these days. They're in the living room, splayed out on the floor talking about anything and everything in the dark, too quiet to wake Tubbo and Ranboo.
Wilbur’s not agender- he has a gender that he keeps around, even if it stays reasonably sectioned away from the rest of him.
Tommy hums, an older tune that Wilbur can't place as he fiddles around with some wool scraps ("Cabbages!" Tommy insists indignantly) leftover from the cardigan they had just finished when Wilbur walked in. It's a burgundy colour that's probably going to be matched with one of Tommy's longer cream skirts to University Monday morning.
"My gender is a… a kind of vibe? I guess? To me it feels like skirts doing that cool swoosh thing in the wind around you while you walk or eating Tubbo's chicken soup and that feeling I always got after a Dream SMP stream. It's weird, but that's my gender I guess." And that is weird. It's weird as fuck, but Tommy's gender sounds really fucking cool so Wilbur tries anyways. Tries to imagine what his gender, the amorphous entity that it is, feels like to him.
It's hard, at first, but then Wilbur starts humming. He's always done better with auditory concepts than visual or tactile ones, strumming tunes together that tie in with his latest hyperfixation.
So Wilbur hums. He starts with 'White Wine in a Wetherspoons' and then 'Cause for Concern' with a little bit of 'Your new Boyfriend' thrown in for posterity as it all starts to come together. Tommy starts tapping his finger on the plywood floor, creating a small beat.
His gender feels nice, actually, and not just the neutral burden that the universe has him carry around. It begins to feel like the warmth in Wilbur's chest when someone says "Hey, don't stop. Tell me more, this is interesting" to even the most niche fixations that Wilbur has ever had, like the different types of bricks or the historical fashion one he had at the same time as Tommy and they made dozens of Pinterest boards together (1830’s hairstyles his beloved). It feels like Phil calling him 'Son' in that chamomile accent, like everything will be fine. It feels like the tipsy laughs he and Niki share when getting drunk together and it sounds like the quick, comforting 'bzzt bzzt bzzt' of Tommy's sewing machine running on the other side of the flat while Wilbur makes them breakfast because they and his flatmates are fundamentally incapable of looking after themselves.
It's really a pretty nice gender, actually. So when Wilbur closes its metaphorical pouch and clips it back onto his metaphorical backpack, he feels lighter, warmer inside than before. Is this how Tommy feels sometimes?
The tapping stops and Wilbur realises that Tommy's fallen asleep, surrounded by scraps of cabbage on a fairly cold plywood floor. This will not do. Thankfully, Wilbur has gained enough arm strength to reasonably carry the nineteen-year-old to his bedroom, carefully avoiding sewing pins that Tommy will clean up frantically in the morning. Tubbo and Ranboo are asleep as before, in the same place, huddled together on the lowest bunk covered in blankets, with just enough room for another person.
Tommy fits in perfectly, head on Ranboo's shoulder and the rest of him swathed in blankets to protect from the cold. It's started to show fairly heavily outside so going home is not possible. Therefore, Wilbur stays.
The guest room still has some of his shit from the last time he stayed over, around a week ago. Piling a thick-ish duvet on top of himself, Wilbur sleeps, more at peace than he's ever been.
-
Monday morning, Wilbur tries out pronouns. He was spending the weekend in a bit of a haze of filming and social interaction and talking to Elodie, his editor, in order to have most of this week free.
He's back at home with pronoun dressing rooms loaded on Firefox, a Geoguessur stream finished and a free day with spoons to spare. It is time.
First- she/her.
This is Wilbur, the site reads, She's 27 years old with a penchant for making songs. She also really likes hanging out with her sibling, Tommy and her best friends on the Dream SMP. She still ships DNF.
Oh. Oh wow. She/Her works pretty well actually. Wilbur likes that for herself.
Next- they/them. This is not as nice, but it's also not bad, necessarily.
Fae/Faer- this one is pleasant enough.
Everything else is okay, Wilbur supposes. She figures that just knowing that he/him isn't the only answer is good enough for herself.
The first person she tells is Tommy, on a phone call during one of his frees.
“Okay, so he, she and fae, right?” they ask, rolling the pronouns around like the colorful hard candies sold in packets of two hundred each, muttering small sentences, barely audible to the phone mic amongst the dozens of student voices around him, pitter-pattering like sleet on cars heard from a cozy living room.
“Yeah. pronouns change by the day. Please don’t interchange them.” Wilbur confirms, short and soft.
“Oh that’s really fucking cool. What are they today? Does anyone else know? Do you have names you want to be called instead?” Tommy asks, orange-sweet in his kind concern and slowed down questions as to not deflate the souffle in Wilbur’s brain.
“Uh, she/her, and no, not yet on the knowing and the name thing. I’m going to tell Phil and Niki, then Dream, probably. Wish me luck.” Wilbur answers, the ‘wish me luck’ thrown in more as a formality than anything, but she’s still nervous, thoughts spinning in popcorn-crunch circles, pop pop pop about how it could go wrong and even if Tommy and Ranboo were accepted, perhaps that courtesy won’t be extended to her. Tommy, the absolute fucking legend as always seems to have figured that much out.
“Wil. Wilbur. Wilby. Big Dubs- It’s going to be fucking fine, you’re popcorn-popping again and while that’s one of your idiosyncrasies and I fucking love those, you are also freaking the fuck out. Everything will be fine, alright?”
“Idiosyncrasies? Where did you learn that? Is ‘The Tommyinnit’ learning new big words?” Wilbur teases, to mask her affection just a little bit, even as it seeps out of her voice like honey in a sopapilla, warm and sticky and sweet.
“Don’t fucking patronize me.” Tommy retorts, instinctive as it’s been for the past few years now, no bite behind their words. “I’ve got South Asian Lit now- call us in the evening?” he asks, because Tommy, Tubbo and Ranboo are a single unit in the evening. Do not attempt separation till after midnight. Wilbur laughs, a small thing only audible to her sibling over the phone.
“Course. You can tell them yourself, if you want.”
“Okay. Now I need to walk like, three buildings or some shit, so I’m hanging the fuck up. See you later?” Tommy’s voice is softer towards the end, cotton candy and Wilbur melts, just a little bit.
“Okay, bye Tommy.”
“Bye Wil. Good luck.” Tommy hangs up a few seconds later, the last thing on the line that Wilbur can hear being Ranboo’s steadily louder voice as end catches up to Tommy, and Wilbur keeps the phone to her ear for a few seconds more, before putting it on charge and loading up Discord, to find Phil and Dream on VC 3 together, Tubbo and Purpled occupying the beloved VC 2.
Wilbur joins the call, taking in a deep breath and letting it out, and taking a sip of lukewarm tea. Earl Grey, probably taken from the tea box Phil gifted her on Christmas and prepares herself.
“Ay, H’lo, son.”
“Hey, Wilbur!” Dream’s voice, chirpy and crisp as a freshly-picked apple registers first, just before Phil’s comforting chamomile and Wilbur is at ease very quickly, because it’s Dream and Phil. It is literally impossible for things to go wrong.
“Hi! I just came on here to tell you something.” Wilbur starts. After hearing noises of agreement, like popping candy, Wilbur starts.
“Um, so on Friday, Tommy and I did some soul-searching. Well, I did most of the searching. And uh, I figured out that I’m technically genderfluid, but my gender is a series of abstracts and I use he, she and fae pronouns.” It’s quiet for a second, before Phil responds.
“Hey, that’s pogchamp, mate. What pronouns are you using right now? Are they interchangeable?” Dream makes a noise in agreement, in questioning.
“Thanks, and uh, she/her, and no. not interchangeable. I use certain pronouns until I don’t.”
“Oh, that’s cool! Should I update your pronoun role in the Discord to ‘ask for pronouns’?” Dream finally says, and in typical Dream fashion, it’s by getting straight to business. It’s ridiculously endearing, even five years on, knowing everyone’s little quirks and idiosyncrasies (thanks Tommy for reminding her that the word exists) that it’s still possible to be endeared by them, and that they’re all still endeared to her.
“Yes please, Dream. Thank you. I’ll make a small announcement on the server myself, but thanks.”
“No problem, Wilbur! We’re glad you’re happy.”
“What the green-bitch said, mate.” Phil responds, and Dream turns on his camera for that only, just to show that he isn’t actually wearing green- he’s wearing a blue T-shirt, blonde hair mussed about enough to show that he did not comb it when he woke up. His face still has some sleep leftovers, but he’s awake enough to pay attention, and he’s smiling at Wilbur, mouse clicking very fast to change her discord role, and it shows up a few seconds later with a purple dot. ‘ask for my pronouns’. Wilbur is smiling like an idiot, and she turns on her camera, Phil following suit as she starts laughing a little wetly and all of this sinks in.
Wilbur is gender-fluid. She loves herself, her family and the little pouch still strapped to her backpack. Phil is whispering things into the mic soothingly and Dream is grinning at her, and it just feels so good. The bad feeling in Wilbur’s skin just isn’t here today, and it feels like it won’t be around for a while yet.
With slightly blurry eyes trying to see through her glasses, Wilbur makes an announcement with the @everyone turned on.
Bitchbur (she/her today): @everyone I’m here to announce that I’m genderfluid! You can either ask me my pronouns or I’ll just change my nick. The name’s still Wilbur. That’s about it.
Replies start coming in, nothing but messages of support and thumbs-up emoticons, and Wilber closes her eyes, leaning back in her chair, laughing a bit more. She’s so happy that she managed to accept herself, and find acceptance in everyone else on this server. She probably won’t come out to the internet for a while, or even to some of her real-life friends but that’s okay.
She’s got everything she needs right here.
2 notes · View notes
zackcollins · 4 years
Text
don’t take the girl || travis konecny
masterlist
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Author’s Note: This exists because @matbaerzal​ gave me the advice to try writing in the style of (number)+1 if I wanted to make my fics longer. This fic is styled in the format of 2+1 (2 times the girl didn’t go + 1 time she did) because it is based on a song. I chose Travis based solely on the fact that the first scenario of the song references fishing and we know this boy LOVES his fishing. GIF credit to martieblogsstuff!!
Warnings: Maybe a temper tantrum in the first scenario??? I don’t really think the first sceanrio is bad. The second scenario is about an armed robbery, so, uh. Watch out for that if you need to. The third scenario talks about labour/childbirth. The labour itself is a kinda descriptive but the childbirth is by no means graphic. There’s also implied death in the final scenario. This is an angsty mess and I’m sorry in advance to anyone that reads it—
Word Count: 2.0k+
Based On: Don’t Take the Girl by Tim McGraw
Additional: Feminine reader. Since this is based on the song, I just copied the genders of everyone in the song to the fic. I would also like to thank matbaerzal for reading over the fic for me. She’s the real MVP for volunteering to subject herself to this angsty train wreck to make sure it was alright to post. Bless your heart, Amalie.
ONE
Travis' dad was getting the truck packed with the fishing equipment. The two had planned a trip to the river to go fishing for the day. It was Travis’ eighth birthday and they wanted to celebrate. As they were just about to leave, you walked up to the truck, holding one of your grandpa’s fishing rods. Your pigtails swayed in the late winter breeze.
“We can’t leave her here, Travis,” Mr. Konecny said, motioning to you and then glancing at Travis with a smile. “I know you probably don’t want her to go, but someday you’ll change your mind.”
Travis looked from you to his dad and frowned. He crossed his arms over his chest and stomped his foot in the dirt of the driveway.
“Why can’t we take Jimmy or Tommy from school?” He asked, stomping his foot again. “We could even take my best friend, Bo!” He raised his voice which startled you enough to make you hide behind Mr. Konecny.
Mr. Konecny shielded you with his arm as he glanced at you and then to Travis. He gave Travis a stern look but said nothing.
“Take anybody else; just don’t take her!” Travis stomped both of his feet and thrust his arms toward the ground.
You flinched, dropping the fishing rod at Mr. Konecny’s feet. Mr. Konecny bent down and handed the fishing rod back to you. When he stood back up, he looked sternly at Travis.
“If she doesn’t go neither do we,” he said, stepping back to show Travis how frightened you were. Even though Mr. Konecny had stepped back, you still clung to the side of his leg. “Travis, see? You scared her. Apologize.”
Travis looked at you, then to his dad. “Sorry,” he mumbled. “She’s still not coming fishing with us.”
Mr. Konecny looked at Travis, pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed. “Go to your room.” He pointed toward the house. “I’m going to unload the truck since we aren’t going fishing anymore.”
Without a word of protest, Travis stomped off toward the house. The loud slamming of the front door echoed through the backroads air a moment later, causing you to jump slightly. Mr. Konecny bent down and placed a hand on your shoulder.
“Sorry about that, (Y/N),” he said, squeezing your shoulder. “He’s been kind of a brat lately. Hopefully you two can make up someday.”
You smiled, revealing a gap in your teeth. “Thank you, Mr. Konecny.” You reached into the pocket of your coat and handed Mr. Konecny the envelope that you had been keeping there. “Can you give this to Travis? It’s a card I made him for his birthday.”
Mr. Konecny ruffled your hair as he grabbed the envelope with the other hand. “Of course. I’ll give it to him as soon as he’s calmed down.”
Your smile grew wider as you skipped back to your house, pigtails swaying in the wind. You hoped Travis liked what was on the card. You had poured your seven-year-old heart into making it for him.
TWO
It was the summer after Travis’ eighteenth birthday. You two had been dating since sophomore year of high school. The card you had given him all those years ago starting the friendship that even made that possible.
Today, you were on a date to a drive-in movie. It was one the both of you had been excited to see. It was one of the movies in the Marvel Cinematic Universe, this one focusing on Ant-Man.
Travis was holding you as close as he could in the confines of his truck, kissing you every so often. The two of you were so lost in your own little world that you almost missed it when the back passenger door opened and closed. You both turned your heads and saw a masked man holding a gun. He grabbed you by the arm, jerked you backward, and pointed the gun at you.
“If you listen to everything I tell you,” he said, waggling the gun for dramatic effect, “I won’t hurt her.”
“Travis, please listen to him,” you pleaded, looking between Travis and the masked man.
Reaching into his pocket, Travis produced his wallet. “Take some money,” he said, opening the wallet. Travis shook his head before quickly closing it. “Fuck, you might as well take the whole wallet and my credit cards.” He placed the wallet on the centre console.
The masked man snatched it and placed it on his lap. He used his free hand to lead through the contents before he placed the wallet in the pocket of his pants. He glanced between you and Travis, tightening his grip on your arm. He pressed the gun to your temple, causing you to swallow thickly.
“I’m sure your girlfriend here is worth more to you than nine Vimy Ridge Memorials and two passenger trains,” the masked man said, chuckling.
“The watch, Travis.” You motioned weakly with your free arm. “Give him your watch.”
Unlatching the clasp on his watch, Travis slid it off his wrist and handed it to the masked man. “My grandpa gave this to me but you can have it.” The masked man pocketed the watch and motioned to the keys in the ignition.
“What about those?” His voice was softer than it had been before, almost as if he was suddenly regretting doing this.
Travis quickly took the keys from the ignition and handed them to the masked man. “All yours. The truck is all yours. Just don’t take her.”
You heard the pleading tone to Travis’ voice as he spoke. It made the situation that much more intense. You wanted to do something, anything to help. The fact that you were the reason this was happening made you feel helpless.
The masked man released your arm. You quickly rubbed it to soothe the ache his grip had caused. The masked man motioned to the doors on either side of the truck, huffing loudly.
“Out before I change my mind.”
Scrambling out of the truck, you and Travis made sure to look as innocuous as possible. The last thing you needed was to draw any attention to yourselves and somehow make this situation worse.
As soon as you both stepped away from the truck, it revved to life. Travis’ heart sank as he watched his beloved truck drive away without either you or him in the driver’s seat. You leaned onto him to comfort him, wrapping your arm around him. Travis leaned his head atop yours and wrapped his arm around you in turn.
“We can replace the truck,” you said, glancing up at Travis. “What matters is that we’re both safe.”
Travis smiled softly, squeezing you against him. The two of you stood like that, wrapped in each other’s sideways embrace, for a few minutes before Travis pulled away and kissed your temple. You hummed and patted his chest to help calm him down—he was still radiating some nervous energy.
Another few moments passed in silence, the two of you holding each other in a hug. Travis had hands on your back, rubbing along it soothingly. You had buried your face into his chest because feeling the thrumming of his heartbeat was helping you stay calm.
Travis brought his head down and kissed your temple. You hummed softly, glancing up at him. His eyes showed signs of stress from the situation that had just unfolded but they also showed relief.
“You okay, Travis?” You asked, lifting your head to properly look at him.
He nodded, gripping your shoulders and pulling you backward slightly so you could look him properly in the eyes. Travis leaned forward and kissed your cheek and then your forehead. You smiled fondly at him.
“I’m glad you’re okay,” he said, rubbing your shoulders. He pulled you in for a hug a moment later, embracing you softly, yet firmly. “I don’t know what I would’ve done if I lost you.”
PLUS ONE
Travis had managed to replace his truck shortly after the incident with money from a signing bonus he got from his first NHL contract. That was five years ago. Now, he was an established forward for the Philadelphia Flyers—the team that had originally signed him—and could buy a new truck every day if he felt the need.
You were still by his side. By his side and heavily pregnant. Your due date was looming and could arrive at any moment.
That moment came just after Travis had returned from a road trip through western Canada. You had been in the kitchen baking brownies when he entered and embraced you from behind. He swayed you a couple of times to the music you had been playing and that was all it took.
“Uh, Tr-Travis?” You said, dropping the spoon in the batter to grab your stomach.
“Hmm?” He hummed into your shoulder, obviously unaware of what was happening.
“It’s time for double overtime of game seven,” you breathed out, breathing suddenly becoming ragged.
Travis froze against you. All you felt from him was his uneven breaths and unsteady heartbeat. After a moment, he pulled away from you and you heard him exhale shakily.
“Al-alright,” he said, running a hand down his face. “Let’s do this then.”
You smiled, grabbing Travis’ hand to allow him to guide you to the truck. He helped you in and closed the door behind you, patting it for good measure. Once he was in the driver’s seat and buckled in, he grabbed your hand before turning the key in the ignition. Your breathing was coming in shallower and you were starting to feel lightheaded but you smiled at Travis when he smiled at you.
Travis held your hand for the entire ride to the hospital. It helped a little with your constant feelings of lightheadedness because you had something to squeeze to keep your internal pressure balanced. It wasn’t helping with the fact that your breathing was becoming shallower and shallower the more you tried to gasp for lungfuls of air. The harder you fought for air, the harder it was becoming to breathe. You had never given birth before so you only thought this normal for labour. Thought this was something that was supposed to happen.
In the delivery room, the doctor strapped you into the apparatus and instructed you to push as soon as you were ready. As you pushed, you felt your lungs expanding but no air felt like it was moving through them. Travis noticed the expression on your face and got the attention of the doctor. The doctor guided your son out of the birth canal the rest of the way, whisking him away so she could focus her attention on you. After a moment of inspecting you, a nurse tapped her on the shoulder and gave her a thumbs up. She nodded and turned to Travis.
“Your son is doing fine,” the doctor said, motioning briefly to the incubator across the room. “But I need you to leave. Your fiancée is fading and fast. If we want any hope of saving her, we need to do it now.”
Not sure what to do, Travis simply fell to his knees. He looked toward you and then up toward the sky.
“Take the breath I’m breathing,” Travis shouted at no one in particular. “I’ll gladly take her place if anyone will let me. Make that my last request. Take me out of this world instead of her. Please… don’t take her…”
Tears streaked violently down Travis’ face as he knelt on the floor of your delivery room. The doctor had gone back to working on you but one of the nurses placed a hand on Travis’ shoulder and squeezed gently. Travis placed his hand on the nurse’s hand and patted it in thanks.
The entire time that had been happening, you were fading in and out of consciousness. You had caught a portion of what Travis had said and it made you smile internally. You wanted to stay here with him and Carlan. Wanted to be a family with your fiancé and the son you had taken three months to agree on a name for. You wanted… you wanted to live.
Travis was sobbing in the background of your consciousness and the beeping of the hospital machinery was echoing alongside it. As all of that played in your mind, you felt serene and floaty. Like you were being dragged toward something peaceful.
You faintly heard Travis scream something that sounded like “I love you” before everything around you went black.
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despairdiseases · 4 years
Text
When you walk away (Nothing more to say)
chapter 6 - literally just a bleaching hair tutorial
trigger warnings: sympathetic Remus and Deceit, a spider, hair bleaching, swearing, implied bad childhood? (let me know if I missed something)
summary: Virgil helps Remus finally do something with that bird's nest he calls hair and oops angst happens
A few sharp knocks sounded the window. Virgil looked up from his laptop, widening his eyes at the figure behind the glass, which waved him. Virgil rolled his eyes and took off his headphone, walking over to the window and opening it, letting Remus in.
'Why didn't you just walk through the front door?', Virgil questioned.
"Eh, this is more fun," Remus shrugged, looking around the room. He stopped and squealed when he saw the terrarium where Susan was, making a web. He went closer to the terrarium, cooing at the tarantula. Virgil raised an eyebrow, smiling softly. Remus turned his head to look at him, "Sorry not sorry, Susie is just too cute to resist."
Virgil opened his mouth to question the nickname but found himself unable to speak. Oh, of course, how could he forget. He looked away from a second before shaking it off, signing to Remus, 'True'. He crossed his arms and walked closer to Remus.
Remus straightened himself, "So, why am I here again? You wanna hook up or somethin'?"
The taller rolled his eyes, suppressing a smile. He walked over to a table where his computer was, along with other things such as empty glasses or crumbled paper. Virgil picked up a box of powdered hair bleach and waved it at Remus.
Remus widened his eyes a little, but the expression soon changed into an intrigued one, "Oh? What are you gonna do? Bleach my pubes?"
Virgil tried so hard to not throw the box at him, he really did. But he didn't entirely trust himself so instead, he put it down, he needed those hands to sign anyways, 'You always complain about wanting to dye your hair'.
"And you know how to do it?"
Virgil gestured to his black hair with purple in it.
"Touché. So are we gonna do it now, or?" Remus smirked slightly as Virgil nodded, picking up the box and walking out of his room. Remus waited for him for a few seconds, before Virgil stuck his head back into the room and gestured for him to follow. Virgil led him into a bathroom with a big mirror above the sink. There was a chair placed in front of it, which Virgil led him to sit on. He watched as Virgil placed the bleach on the edge of the sink and went to grab some other things from the cabinet next to the door. On the sink, he placed a "developer" from what Remus read on the label, whatever-the-hell that was, a mixing bowl and a mixing brush. He gestured for Remus to stay as he went out of the bathroom, presumingly to find other things he needed, and who was Remus to argue, he never bleached his hair before.
It wasn't long before Virgil returned, this time with rubber gloves on and carrying a measuring spoon and tin foil, setting the foil down. He opened the bleach and scooped a spoonful of it, pouring it into the mixing bowl. He set the spoon down and poured the developer into the bowl, mixing it together with a mixing brush. Remus watched all of it in the mirror, "You, uh, you sure you know what you're doing?" Virgil made eye contact with him through the mirror. He smiled at Remus, nodding. Remus nodded back, feeling more sure, "Okay."
Virgil put the mixing bowl down to sign, 'Where do you want to bleach it?
"Uh, I dunno..." he touched the tips of his hair softly, thinking, "Maybe my tips?"
'Are you sure?'
Remus nodded, "Yes I'm fucking sure. Aren't you the one who came up with this in the first place?"
Virgil rolled his eyes and walked in front of Remus, taking the brush and dipping it in the bowl. He took the tin foil and ripped a piece off. He took Remus' hand, at which the man in question flinched, and guided it to hold a chunk of his hair mashed into a bun on top of his head. Remus felt strangely sad when Virgil took his hand off of his, taking a chunk of the hair on his back and laying it against a piece of tin foil. He began adding the bleach onto the tips, bleaching roughly four or five inches but focusing mainly on the bottom. Remus soon found the strange feeling replaced with the thrill of doing something new. The process was repeated around eight more times before the bottom layer of the hair was covered in tin foil. Of course, Remus' arm began to hurt, "Are you done yet?" he whined.
Virgil shook his head absent-mindedly, finishing the last piece of hair that remained. Finally, Virgil wrapped the last of the bottom hair and gave Remus a thumbs up in the mirror. Remus let his hair fall down with a relief filled sigh, shaking his hand, "Shit, you have no idea how fucking hurt can you get by not doing anything."
Virgil let out a breathy laugh, though making almost no sound. Remus found it weird at first, like someone put a tv on mute, but eventually got used to it. At least now he didn't stare at Virgil when he laughed, Remus didn't even stare because he found him weird he just liked looking at Virgil laughing, as it didn't happen very often.
Remus took one of the foils into his hand, "So, how long 'til I get these off?"
Virgil looked up in thought, 'About forty minutes,' at that, Remus groaned. Virgil raised an eyebrow, 'What did you expect? 2 minutes?'
Remus looked away, "I mean yeah, kinda."
Virgil facepalmed. Remus laughed at the action, standing up, "So, is Picani here? I haven't seen him. What did you do? Did you kill him?"
Virgil shook his head as if it was a serious question, 'It's parent-teacher conference today, remember?'
Remus snorted, "Oh, yeah, shit. Mom's gonna be pissed as fuck. I mean, she's always pissed after parent-teachers, so..." he trailed off, looking up at Virgil.
'What do you wanna do now?', Virgil signed awkwardly.
The shorter shrugged, "I dunno, man, it's your house, you choose...or should I?"
'Please don't,'Virgil seemed to think for a minute, ignoring Remus' chuckling, 'Have you watched Zombieland?'
"No, what's that?"
Virgil widened his eyes, 'Are you serious?'
Remus pouted, "Yeah, what is it? Is it some kind of porn?"
The taller rolled his eyes, taking Remus by the hand and leading him to the living room. The strange feeling Remus had before had returned, somewhere in the back of his mind the word he was searching for to describe it, but Remus couldn't reach it. His chest felt tighter than usual, almost like Virgil was squeezing it. What was this feeling, Remus didn't know, but guesses it had something to do with the fact that he didn't eat anything all day. Yeah, now that he thought about it, he was really hungry. Dee would probably lecture him about his eating habits if he was here.
Virgil seated Remus on the couch in the living room, going to look through the stack of DVDs next to the tv. He finally settled on one, which Remus assumed was the one he and Virgil talked about a moment ago. He placed in on the DVD player under the tv, then got up and walked into the kitchen. Remus used that time to look around the room. It was...very neutral, if Remus had to be nice about it. But he didn't have to, so it was pretty fucking boring. The wallpaper was light beige. The couch was beige. The carpet was beige. Remus started to hate beige. At least the floor was dark brown. He noticed a few photographs on the wall next to the big wooden bookshelf. It had mostly Picani and Virgil in it, but one photograph stood out. It was of what Remus assumed was a young Picani, maybe around 15? He's poking his tongue out, along with some brown-haired woman. Remus walked closer to the photograph to take a good look at her. She was pale, very much like Virgil. Her curly hair was going past her shoulders, stopping shortly below. Her icy blue eyes were the same colour as one of Virgil's eyes. Behind the hair, Remus noticed a patch of skin darker than the rest, going up to her jaw.
Slam.
Virgil yanked the photo off the wall, walking over to the trash can and dropping it in harshly. He turned to go back to the kitchen, a kitchen pass-through making it possible for Remus to still see him.
"I uh, I- I'm sorry."
Virgil didn't reach, his expression shifting from irritated to neutral. He drank the water he poured himself.
Remus looked at the empty spot in the middle of the wall, "Look, dude, I didn't know...whatever the hell the business with that chick you have. Like, I guess it's Picani's wife or some-"
"Stop."
Remus widened his eyes at the quiet brittle voice, just on the edge of his hearing, obviously sore from not speaking for a long time. Virgil seemed to be the second to realize, widening his eyes before shaking it off.
He reached into the freezer and pulled out two tubs of strawberry and mint ice cream. Remus didn't bring up the obvious elephant in the room, instead forcing on a smile and walking over to grab two spoons from the dishware drawer. It wasn't long before the two were settled on the couch under a blanket, leaning against each other while eating ice cream. Virgil was silent, as always. Remus made comments through the whole movie, well, not whole obviously, he didn't want his precious hair to fry off.
He shoved the spoon full of ice cream into his mouth, "Shit, bro, Wichita and Little Rock really did that. We stan illegal queens," Virgil tapped his shoulder, "What'cha want, emo?" the man in question pointed to his foil-wrapped hair, "Oh, right, I forgot."
He set the tub down and went to the bathroom, waiting for Virgil to follow, but instead was met with signing, 'You can wash it yourself,' at which Remus raised his eyebrows.
"Yeah, sure, okay," he hesitantly walked to the bathroom, glancing at Virgil before shutting the door.
Virgil sighed heavily, leaning against the sofa. He put hands on his face. At least he avoided more awkwardness. Emile is gonna be back soon, just a...what's the time again? Virgil checked his phone, good, just a few minutes now. Just a few minutes of awkwardly sitting through the movie until Emile comes home. Just a few minutes. Virgil didn't notice the water stopped running.
"Well, how do I look?"
Virgil glanced at Remus leaning against the door frame, hair still wet even though Remus had a damp towel in his hand. The tips of his hair bleached, blending together nicely with his naturally dark brown hair. Maybe Virgil was biased because he did that, but it looked beautiful on him, even with the wet hair. Virgil gave Remus thumbs up, smiling tensely.
"Damn right, I look so fuckable!" Remus looked in the mirror in the hallway proudly and Virgil couldn't help but let out a soundless laugh.
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Text
Preordained VIII
Tumblr media
Pairing(s):Poly!BTSxOC, Sub!BTSxOC,
Warnings: Implied sexual situations, Mentions of sexual situations, implications of Dom/sub relationships. This one gets a little steamy, Jin uses a safeword
Masterlist
Zara stood in the middle of her bedroom in her parent’s on-base house, looking at the barren walls. The call had been sudden, her mother quietly explaining that her father was being relocated once again to Hawaii, where it was likely they’d spend the rest of their days.
Zara, of course, didn’t have to go with them; the fact that they’d been in Korea for so long was already a good enough reason to become a permanent resident. Throw in not one, but Seven Korean Soulmates and Zara’s citizenship was completely secured.
It was the fact that this was the first time she wouldn’t be going with her family that settled heavily in her heart.
“Baby,” Myra Underhill stroked Zara’s hair away from her face, and Zara leaned into the motherly touch. “You’ll see us in a few weeks! Christmas isn’t that far off, you know.”
“I know,” Zara replied. She looked down at the box in her hands; an old pastel yellow baby blanket that Zara’s grandmother had knitted, a couple candles that her mother always burned around the house, her sister’s favorite perfume and photo album of happy memories filled it to the brim. “It just won’t be the same, you know?”
“I know, Baby,” Myra pulled Zara into a hug. “But you’ve got your Soulmate now. That will make it easier for you.”
Zara glanced towards the door, where Namjoon leaned, watching the scene with sad eyes. He’d come with Zara to help her move her family out of the house, skipping all his morning classes to do so. He met her eyes at the singular tense, “Soulmate.”
Zara hadn’t ever told her parents how many Red Strings she had around her wrist, unwilling to seem like a freak to her own parents. She’d explained this to the Seven, and together they decided that either Namjoon or Jin were best suited to portray her Soulmate to her parents. Jin had a test Zara wouldn’t let him dip out on, so that left Namjoon.
“Namjoon-oppa is very helpful,” Zara replied, holding out the box to him. Namjoon took it, pressing a kiss to her temple and making his way down the stairs. 
Myra took her daughter’s arm in her and together they descended the stairs slowly. George Underhill stood talking to Namjoon in the driveway, shaking his hand firmly. The Twins, 18 year olds Scarlet and Edison stood off to the side, hands locked together tightly. Zara heard the words George was saying in broken Korean as they approached.
“And you’ll take care of my little girl?”
Namjoon responded in English, only a hint of a smirk on his face. “Yes, sir.”
“Good man.” George nodded. He turned toward his daughter and opened his arms to pull her in for a tight hug.
Zara took the moment to memorize her father’s strong scent of Old Spice. That smell was Zara’s oldest and most precious memory, and she would miss it terribly.
“Now don’t you go forgetting your old man when you’ve got a handsome young Soulmate like Namjoon to take care of you,” George said gruffly, ruffling Zara’s hair without pulling away from the hug. 
“Never, daddy,” Zara promised. “Once the semester’s over it’ll be hard for you to ever get me out of your hair.”
“I don’t have much of that left,” George chuckled, finally stepping back. He looked to Myra and wiped a tear out from under her eye. “We have a plane to catch.”
Zara took this moment to engulf the twins in a hug, squeezing them both tight. Scarlet was sobbing quietly. Eddie’s jaw was locked tight in a frown but Zara could see the glassiness of tears in his eyes too.
“Be good,” she told them softly. Scarlet nodded, Eddie just glancing at her.
“You too,” he said. Zara cupped his cheek and smiled.
After another moment, Charles cleared his throat, and Myra let her husband lead her to the truck. Once inside, however, she stuck her head out of the window.  The twins followed suit, listening to their mother calling out to their older sister. “Remember to eat right! Drink plenty of fluids. And don’t forget to wear a coat, it’s been getting colder!” The truck began to pull out of the driveway, leaving Zara and Namjoon standing beside Namjoon’s car. “I love you! Take care of yourself, Baby! I love you!”
When her mother’s voice had faded into nothing, and they could no longer see the light reflecting off of the Twins’ blonde hair, Namjoon brought his hand up to rub Zara’s back.
“You okay?”
Zara wiped her wet eyes and wrapped her arms around Namjoon’s waist.
“Can we go watch F.R.I.E.N.D.S.?”
Namjoon’s eyes softened and he nodded his head.
“Of course.”
xXx
They sang to her to try and cheer her up.
Jin had set his camera on Namjoon’s desk, and there it was promptly forgotten as her Soulmates serenaded her with goofy, happy songs as they all piled on the floor. F.R.I.E.N.D.S. Was playing quietly on the speakers of someone’s laptop.
It had turned out that her boys were all musically inclined. Jin, Jimin, Taehyung and especially Jungkook had beautiful singing voices, and Namjoon and Yoongi were incredibly talented rappers. It didn’t take Hoseok very long to pick up rapping himself, and he was quite spectacular as well.
After a particularly ridiculous cover of Jason Mraz’s I’m Yours complete with Yoongi practically screaming the chorus with strained vocal chords and Hoseok doing his best impression of Jimin’s contemporary dancing, Zara was rolling on the floor, holding her stomach.
“Stop, stop, stop!” Zara cried, gasping for air.
Yoongi cut off immediately, smirking at Zara, wiping the tears of laughter off her cheeks. “You don’t like my singing?”
“Suga, you’re awful. Stick to rapping.”
He gave her the Smile, stroking her cheek again.
“That hurts.”
They both knew it wouldn’t be the last time he “sang” for her. They also both knew he wasn’t awful at all.
Not long after, the boys went out to pick up food, leaving Zara and Jungkook alone, snuggling in the mound of blankets. For once, Jungkook was the big spoon, having Zara tucked under his arm, speaking to her quietly with his forehead pressed against her own.
“You alright, Noona?”
“I’ll be okay,” Zara confirmed, “It’ll be an adjustment, but having you guys will help.”
Jungkook smiled, and moved his hand to cup her face, stroking her cheek just like Yoongi had earlier. Their eyes fell shut and they just breathed each other in.
After a few moments of silence, Jungkook began to hum, which pulled a smile onto Zara’s face.
“If you’re going to sing, Kookie, you better make it worth it.”
Jungkook laughed and opened his eyes to stare into Zara’s, his thumb constantly sweeping over Zara’s cheek.
“Well you done done me and you bet I felt it
I tried to be chill but you're so hot that I melted
I fell right through the cracks
And now I'm trying to get back...”
A week later, when Jin was editing the footage from that night, he’d smile, and save the clip onto a flash drive to keep forever.
xXx
Jin had his arm linked with Zara’s, his lips pulled up in a smirk as they walked around the gallery. Today was the last day of Zara’s painting class, as well as the Peer Review day for final projects. He wasn’t at all concerned that Zara would fail the project, considering how detailed the paintings on his skin had turned out. He’d spent countless weekends sitting patiently as she turned his body into a masterpiece. His favorites were the ones that looked like the art was literally bursting out of his skin, like the clockwork ribs that made it appear as though he were an automaton, or that very first galaxy painting.
Even looking at the other student’s projects, Jin knew Zara had spent the most time on her art.
Zara, on the other hand, wasn’t even thinking about her art. She was too busy tracking the pretty brunette that kept giving Jin the bedroom eyes. Even though Jin wasn’t paying the slightest bit of attention to the girl, Zara’s hackles began to rise. She was already nervous enough about leaving her Soulmates alone in the dorms over the Christmas break. Knowing other girls had eyes for them didn’t help her feel better at all. What did make her feel better was narrowing her eyes at the brunette, and leaning over to press her lips against the underside of Jin’s ear.
“Seokjin-oppa,” she breathed, and felt satisfaction at the fact that Jin’s back when straight as a rod.
“Zara-ssi?”
“You’ve got an admirer,” she told him, pulling on his earlobe with her teeth gently. Her fingers slid under the hem of his T-shirt, dancing at his hip bone. Jin bit his lip, swallowing hard. “Look at her.”
Her tone left no room for argument. Jin’s eyes instantly began searching the room for the pair of eyes that were on him. Once he found them, he held the wide eyed gaze. Clearly the girl hadn’t expected Zara to start feeling her Soulmate up in such a populated area. Honestly, neither had Jin.
It wasn’t unusual for Zara to fool around with her Soulmates in a public setting. They were all young and constantly horny so sex in public wasn’t an issue.
Fooling around in front of people also wasn’t an issue; Jin had lost count of how many times he’d watched Zara suck Jungkook off, but he imagined it was about as many times as he’d watched Yoongi’s head nestled between her legs or as many times the others had watched Jin himself have sex with her. It was the fooling around in plain view of strangers who could see Zara take him apart that was making the anxiety creep up his throat.
“I guess I can’t blame her too much for looking. You’re gorgeous, oppa.”
Jin let out a shuddering breath, keeping his eyes trained on the brunette.
“But just because I can’t blame her doesn’t mean that I have to like it.”
Jin jumped as Zara’s free hand began to creep up the inside of his thigh, the close press of her body against his back keeping prying eyes from seeing. 
Jin’s panic continued to rise as Zara’s fingers did, until she brushed against his cock and Jin jolted, an English word leaving his lips in a rush.
“Seven!”
Zara’s hands were instantly removed and she took a step back, allowing Jin to drop his head.
“Jinnie?”
He turned around taking a deep breath, arms reaching out for Zara again.
“Sorry, Zara-ssi, I just..there are so many strangers here.”
Zara nodded, smoothing her hands down his back.
“You don’t have to apologize, Jinnie,” she said. “You did the right thing. I was crossing a line we didn’t know existed and you stopped me. Never be ashamed of using the safe word.”
Jin nodded, dropping his chin onto her head.
The moment was ruined by Ms. Do approaching them.
“Underhill, these are amazing!”
Jin and Zara broke apart, but their hands remained tightly clasped.
xXx
The goodbye kisses had been shared before they had left the dorms. Now, all eight of them stood in a tight huddle in front of the airport security line. Jungkook had his hand tightly fisted in the bottom of Zara’s gray t-shirt. If he didn’t let her go, she couldn’t leave. Jin was rubbing Jungkook’s back, trying to coax him into letting go. Yoongi had his arms tightly crossed over his chest, afraid that if he loosened up, he’d also grab Zara and never release her.
Jimin was hugging Zara from behind, trying his hardest to memorize her tropical scent. Tae had his face pressed into her hair, feeling his heart pounding nervously in his chest.
Hoseok and Namjoon both had their hands in their pockets, smiling at the scene sadly.
“Promise you’ll call on Christmas,” Namjoon requested.
“No, call once a week!”
“No, every day!”
Zara chuckled, reaching out to cup Jungkook’s cheeks.
“It may not be every day, but I promise I’ll call as often as I can, okay? It’s only a month.”
Jungkook’s lips pouted, but he nodded.
“Okay, Noona.”
Hoseok glanced down at his watch and frowned.
“She’ll miss her flight if she doesn’t get moving,” he said.
“Good.”
“Tae!”
“I’m kidding, I’m kidding.” 
He wasn’t, but he still pulled Zara out of Jimin’s grasp and into his own. Zara’s arms wrapped around his waist, holding Tae just as tightly as he held her.
“I’ll miss you, Noona.”
Nobody interrupted this moment, understanding that, as Zara’s first Soulmate, Taehyung would feel her absence most keenly.
“I’ll miss you too, Baby Boy.”
When they pulled away, the others swooped in on her, wrapping their arms around her and squeezing.
Despite Hoseok’s warning, Zara found herself having to run to her gate once she finally got through security, in order to get on her plane on time.
Sitting in her seat, still panting from her marathon, she looked at her phone. In the groupchat between her and her Soulmates was a photograph of all the boys pouting, still standing in the bag check area. The caption underneath read, “Already missing you. See you right here on January 24th.”
She smiled.
She could do this.
It was only a month.
@babyboytae1 @snowythellama @bewitch3dforivar @peachy---bangtan
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