#im so frustrated with myself. i feel like a weak link. i feel like one of the people IVE had to train at my old job. where they try so hard | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

mxvladdy · 3 years

Note

wait holy shit youre taking requests???? okay first of all, im in love with your writing skills especially those true forms they are *chefs kiss* magnifique. second, may i request for an angst but fluff ending prompt for barbatos/simeon/solomon (im an absolute simp for them) about MC having a really bad asthma attack and coupled with anxiety attack? (totally not me lmao) please and thank you! sorry for being too specific!

A/N: Oshbagosh! I hope you are good fam! You have excellent taste in simpin ngl Barbatos came out of left field for me, though I am weak for a quick wit and sharp tongue lol. And thank you for liking my works! Sorry, this took so long;.;

I hope my research was good and accurate!

Barbatos

Does not know what is going on at first. Were you having an allergic reaction to something you ate? Had you gotten into some Devildom spices he hadn’t secured well enough?

Panics internally. He is very ready to spend the exurbanite amount of energy it would take to turn back the clocks before you started wheezing.

Externally he keeps a level head, glad his gloves hide how sweaty his palms are. He remembers then your human medical file.

He tends to you quickly grabbing your medication and carrying you away from whatever triggered this attack.

“Do you need a doctor?” Barbatos asks for the umpteenth time. He runs a gloved hand up and down your back. You shake your head weakly coughing to try and dislodge some phlegm now breakdown in your throat. You take a shaky breath feeling your airways loosen, the fresh air that fills your lungs taste so sweet.

“I’ll be ok Barb.” You wheeze taking another deep inhale from your inhaler. “Stop hovering and sit please, you are starting to stress me out more.” The demon makes a weird tutting noise in distress but comes to sit next to you. You lean back with a groan. The garden wall was rough on your back but you didn’t care at the moment. It had been so long since you had a flare-up you had almost forgotten what it felt like. You shift over slightly seeking out the heat of your companion's body. Exhausted you flop over to rest your head on his shoulder.

“Here let me.” He pulls out his ornate handkerchief and starts whipping at your nose and eyes. “What triggered this love? Have I missed someplace in my cleaning?” He knew he didn’t, never in all his years had he ever missed a spot. He would retire in shame if he did, but he felt like he had to fill the silence. If you were talking that meant you were alright. Right? He curses at himself. He thought he knew more about humans than this, yet you somehow threw curveball after curveball at him. He needs you to be safe and happy yet he choked on something like this? Perhaps he would suffer more of Solomon’s companionship to pick his brain on human ailments. As long as he could dodge eating any of his cooks.

You fidget as he cleans your face and fusses over you, but you let him. This was for his benefit more than yours. “No, I think it's pollen. Your plants are not something I’m used to yet, and with the wind, it just hit harder.” He grunts, not pleased with your answer. He could do anything about the plants, and things out of his control were few and far between. You catch the inner argument he was having with his many selves and scoff. “Barb-” You take the cloth from him and tuck it in your pocket. “You and all your selves absolutely cannot control my illness, and that's ok.” He doesn’t look convinced, no doubt looking for a loophole in the webs he weaves.

“Given the time I-” He stops at your withering look. “I don’t like not being in control.” Your look softens.

“Who does?” You clear your throat finally feeling a bit more like yourself. Well, at least the garden wasn’t spinning anymore. “There. I think I can manage. Can you help me to the nurses' office? I should get a check-up since it’s been a while since I’ve had an attack. Then I think I’m going to call it a day.”

Barbatos nods helping you to your shaky feet. His hands locked around your arm like he was afraid you would crumble again. You give him a reassuring look and lean into his weight. You didn’t need it, but it was a nice feeling, being looked after. Besides, it was so rare to get his sole attention. “I’ll inform the young master that we will be taking the rest of the day off.”

“We?”

“Of course.” He says resolutely. “Unless you wish for me to leave?” He barely contains his smile when he feels your hands squeeze tighter around his bicep.

“As long as I’m not impeding.” Your words are half-hearted at best. You don’t give a damn if it throws off some super-secret agenda, you were happy to have more time with him. He calmed your nerves.

Simeon

He hadn’t meant to trigger an attack. The weather outside was simply lovely. It was dry and warm with a breeze that made grass dance in a mesmerizing way. The track around one of the Devildom’s many bodies of crystalline water was beautiful at this time of the day. He had to share his enthusiasm.

He just wanted to go for a walk with you. He had so much to talk about with you that he forgot how long his legs are compared to yours. He was so excited he didn’t realize how fast his gait is and how much you were struggling to keep up with him. He didn’t realize your troubles until he felt a sweaty palm on his wrist.

Openingly gets panicked but knows about human medicine and where you store your inhaler.

Simeon breathes deeply through his nose and out his mouth. One deep inhale and one long exhale- focus just focus. His chest clenches in alarm at your shallow pants, his eyesight narrowing down to pinpricks. Blessedly he keeps a steady hand.

“Slowly now my dear.” He shakes your inhaler before bringing it to your lips. His strong fingers massaging your jaw to loosen it. Squeezing your cheeks he slips the apparatus past your teeth noticing how glassy your eyes were becoming. “Inhale.” He orders thanking his father you understand him enough to comply. He watches you like a hawk till he hears your heartbeat steady. Once he is sure he could look away he calls Lucifer. He doesn’t remember what he said, but he knew it was a panic-fueled rush.

“Simeon,” He looks up from his phone. “I’m ok…” You wheeze blinking up into the afternoon moons. Simeon shushes you running his warm hands over your cheeks. They were ice-cold despite the heat. He warms his palms with magic watching the fog clear from your gaze. “Thanks.”

“You shouldn’t thank me.” He pulls away, shaking his head. “This is my fault. I apologize, my dove.” You chuckle breathlessly becoming aware of your surroundings. Last thing you remember was walking up the shoreline. Now the hardwood of the bench pokes at your back. Had you collapsed here? Or did Simeon carry you over? “I should have been more aware of the situation.” He pulls at his hair in frustration. His lower lip turns red as he worries it with his teeth.

You swat his hand away from his hair wincing in sympathy when a few chunks of hair that follow. Linking his dexterous fingers with your clammy ones, you trace the lines in his palm with your thumb. You try to breathe in time with the steady rise and fall of his chest letting your meds take full effect. Your breathing was better, but you still had spots in your vision. “It’s not your fault really. I should have told you when I started feeling bad.”

“I should have noticed. How can I protect you if I can’t even realize your limitations?” He bemoans. You exhale a jerky laugh. Your lungs throbbing with the sharp movement. It ached for sure, but not enough that you couldn’t get up. Ignoring his protests you get off the bench and pull him up with you.

“None of that!” You wag a finger in his face. I’m allowed to panic, not you. You try to make light of the situation but your finger trembles in his face. “You did exactly what you should have so don’t doubt yourself. Sides’-” You clasp yours. hands together playing with your thumbs. “I got horribly distracted too, and pushed myself.”

“By what?”

“You.” Your cheeks heat in embarrassment. “ You were so excited to have the day with me I didn’t want to ruin the mood.”

Simeon blinks. “You-didn’t want to ruin the mood by telling me you were having an asthma attack?” You shrug, a childish smile crossing your face. Unbelievable. Simeon swears under his breath. “I-I am at a loss for words.” He places both his hands on your shoulders squeezing them. “I will find them later and then we'll talk about your amazing lack of self-preservation, but for now, Lucifer is waiting for us at the nurses' office.” Not giving you time to argue he scoops you up, arm holding you under your knees and securely around your shoulders. Once he knew you were safe, he would make sure to have an eye on you at all times.

Solomon

The dusty old library located in the catacombs of the school was a dead giveaway to be trouble for your lungs. You both knew that. He warns you, the moment you feel ill they are leaving, no questions, no arguments. Very much the calmest of the three. He is human...mostly… so he knows the signs and can catch it much faster than the others.

Still worried about you though. You aren’t a mage, just his regular old human.

When he gets nervous he makes jokes. Not appropriate given the circumstances but they just come out. So while he is dragging you from the school he is making the obligatory joke about him taking your breath away.

He will have whatever medications or potions he can think of at the ready for you to use if you need them. Won’t baby you or hover, you’ve lived with this for long he doesn’t want to insult you in any way. But he will keep close and have his ringer on loud in case you need him.

But now he wants you to rest and recover. He’ll keep you company though.

You gaze sleepily out of the bedroom window propped up on an exorbitant amount of puffs and pillows. You breathe out with caution, testing to see if you were still having any lingering effects from being down in the catacombs. It wasn’t anything too serious this time, thankfully. The moment you started clearing your throat and breathing just a little too hard to be considered normal, Soloman had grabbed both your bags and dragged you from the moldy and dusty space. You were a little put out at how quickly your asthma had acted up. You had just found the book you were looking for too.

“If you keep squirming out of your blankets I’ll seal you in there with magic.” Your captor friend appears, pulling aside the drapes around his bed to sit next to you. He flashes you a cocky grin placing a tray on his bedside table. Solomon scans your face looking for any inkling of pain that might linger. “Is something wrong?”

“I’m hot.” You lie. In truth, the many blankets he wrapped you in felt marvelous, but you were being cantankerous. You wanted to get up and go back to work. The mage raises a pale brow, not believing a word of it.

“Of course you are, my little scholar.” He tucks you in again a little tighter then props your cocooned feet on his legs. “How are you really?”

You shrug. Compared to other attacks you’ve had this one was thankfully mild. Most likely because he had whisked you out the winding maze-like library faster than you thought possible. The jitters from the panic attack that followed took more out of you. Luckily for you, Solomon handled that easily too. “You know I want to go back.” You had your hands on the book you wanted when you started feeling a little breathless. You wanted to believe it was out of excitement for the tomes. But the back of that section of the library was damp, cool, and dark. The perfect trifecta for your lungs to riot.

Solomon nodded unfazed. “Yes, I’ve come to realize that whenever danger is present you seem to gravitate towards it.” He smiles fondly at your pout. Your thirst for knowledge was almost as insatiable as his, and both of you seemed to have a knack for attracting danger. He watches you fidget in your confines for a little bit more before sighing. “Alright-alright, I get the drift hold still.” Leaning over you he loosens the covers around your arms to give you a little bit of freedom. As soon as you were free you pinch his nose hard in retaliation. “Oi!” He laughs pulling back to rub at his nose. “Such violence! And here I came bearing gifts!”

“That’s for insulting me!” You huff settling back down. “I hope it’s food, I’m starving.” You eye him expectantly.

“Feed you? After that assault? My, you are brazing.” He picks up the tray he brought despite himself. The school cafe was serving your favorites today. Placing it on your lap he brushes his lips across your cheek. “Plus, I made tea.” You hum in excitement, eyes lighting up with glee. While he couldn’t cook worth a damn (you chalk it up to him irretrievably destroying his sense of taste and smell tolling over potions for years). He did have amazing luck with blending tea leaves and spices. A skill he severely took for granted.

You pick up the tea and breath deeply only to have a coughing fit. His warm broad hands are there in an instant pushing you back into the pillows. “Sorry-sorry. Still a bit tender.” You smile through watery eyes. “It smells great!”

“Does it? What do you smell? I admit, I just picked out things that looked pretty together.” He flushes pink rubbing at the back of his neck.

You take the cup again and sniff. It had a hint of springtime in it, warm and sharp. Something earthy mixed with fire. You take a sip. “Hmm, spicy. Is that licorice?” Solomon nods.

“It is indeed, I read that licorice and black pepper can help with asthma symptoms and circulation. I figured it could wash the taste of your meds away.” He jokes watching you eat and take small sips of the steaming brew. He smiles to himself, glad you could get so comfortable in his room. Perhaps once you were dozing he could slip back into the library and conveniently “borrow” the book you had to leave earlier.

#obey me barbatos #obey me simeon #obey me solomon #obey me #requests

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bigsnzstanacct · 3 years

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King’s New Allergy Part 4

This is wildly overwritten but at least I’m writing...? Here is the link to the other chapters of this story lmao. Of course it is also on le blue forum. After this chapter there is one more to conclude the story (which is already partially written!) and then there’s a chance I’ll eventually write an aggressively porn-y epilogue. okay byeeeeeeee!

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My nose. My damned nose. By all the gods old and new, my insatiable, insufferable, intolerable, insistent, itchy, tickly, twitching, torurous nose!

“So the… th-thehhhh… the harvest in the W-weehhhhh… Western… -sniff-”

I was fighting. I was fighting as hard as I’d ever fought anything. Harder. But to do battle against a swordsman, a sorceror, a monster, a ghost… that was child’s play. For that I had tools and training. Years of training in weapons and fighting. For this meeting too: years of training in diplomacy, in leadership. But none of that training involved a struggle to the death against your own damned nose!

“In the W-wehhhh… weeeeeeehhHHHH…”

Through narrowing eyes, I saw their faces: full of disapproval, fear, hands itching to clap to their ears, legs twitching to hide under the table, as though I really were a storm unto myself, and in taking cover, they might be spared the worst. Perhaps if I simply allowed the sneeze to come, it might not be so monstrous but… I could not. I could not bring myself to succumb so easily, to give in, to be weak. I chanced putting a finger beneath my nose. It was a desperate failsafe that had served at least a few times, but in truth I could never resist for long. I could no more resist these violent eruptions than the sky, overcharged with energy, could resist the lightning arcing across the sky, or the terrible roar of the thunder in response.

“Oh gods… I’m sahhhh.. s-ssaahhhhhh… s-sorreeehhhhhHHHHHHHHAAAAAAAAAAARRRRRSSSSCCCHHOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!! AnothhheeEERRRYYYYYYYYAAAASSSSSSSSSSSSSSSHHHHHHHHHHOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!! hehhhh… hh-hehhhhhh… HUUUH! HHHHHHHEEEEEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAAASSSSSSSSSHHOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!”

They came, thick, fast and violent. Each one felt like it took all my strength, as though I couldn’t help but through the full weight of my body—no, the full weight of the castle herself into each sneeze. And then, for a moment…

Bliss.

No itch, no tickle, no torture. As terrible as they were, as much as they terrorized my meeting, my castle, my citizens, my countryside… there was a guilty, fiendish part of me that felt such magnificent release and relief with each great roar that was loosed from my mouth and nose. Drained, too, of course. Exhausted as though I’d climbed a mountain after practically each sneeze, let alone a whole terrible fit of them like I’d done. But also, utterly and simply delighted.

And then I opened my eyes and the embarrassment flooded in, and then, barely a split-second later, the tiny, teasing, barely-perceptible blossom of the itch that presaged another sneeze. The urge to sneeze again was following closer and closer on the glorious feeling of release and relief. When this all started I could go half the day without a sneezing fit. Then hours. Now barely minutes. But perhaps if I didn’t think about it, if I just barrelled through and ignored the tickle… maybe it would leave me alone.

“My apologies again, gentlemen.” I said, and quickly, before anyone could comment upon my nose: “Now, the Western harvest is among the best we’ve had in some years, which means our levy at the current rate should be -sniff!-” the itch already was worming its way up. But I could hold out still. I could ignore it.

“At the current rate should be more than sufficient to provide for capitol needs, y-yes Minister?”

The Minister of the Exchequer tried to discreetly rub at his ears, but it was obvious what he was doing, trying to clear his head from my sneezing long enough to focus on what I was saying. I couldn’t bear it.

“Yes! It will be sufficient, I don’t need you to check my arithmetic. You may repohhh… re-re…” I gave a hard sniff, and allowed myself a quick rub at the underside of my nose with the heel of my palm. It was an embarrassing, almost childish gesture but I was far beyond caring about small embarrassments. I had much, much larger mortifications to be concerned with.

“Youmayreportbackifneedsbe!” I barrelled out, knowing the tickle was already roused, and at any moment could turn the act of speech into feat as tricky as any in my storied questing career.

“What is the next item on the ahhh… hahhh…” my eyes swam, unfocused for a moment. Hands crept up towards ears, dread lining in every face of the council. I could feel my knights tensing behind me, as though bracing for an explosion, hoping not to be knocked off their feet. The sneeze wasn’t even ready, it would play with me for several more moment yet. It reminded me of nothing more than sparring with the quartermaster as a boy: putting up a valiant fight, certain I was on the edge of victory… only to find he was only playing a game with me. He would always win.

“The next agenda item!” I said, slamming a fist down on the table. I wasn’t angry with the council, and I hope they knew that, but. It was all so damned frustrating… I couldn’t speak without terrifying my council, not with my words but with the threat of my nose. Of all the mortifying.

“Well my lord, we have not admitted petitioners in over three weeks, owing to your condition. I was informed the Royal Physician as well as the, ah, King’s Right Hand will be pursuing some possibilities for treatment, but the peo---”

“Damn the conditiiIiiiHHHHHH… HHIIIHHHHHH!!” May noses and sneezes be damned by all the gods old and new! The urge was already prickling in my nose, fanning its way towards inevitability, as though to mock me for cursing it. By all the gods, I should be able to see my people, to hear their complaints and all because of my god’s damned lack of control, I couldn’t even do that… I felt furious as a boy, looking up at the quartermaster teary-eyed with rage at losing, at humiliation. And here I was again, losing. And to a thrice damned tickle in my thrice damned nose…!

My nose, on which the whole room hyperfocused, as intent upon it as I’d ever been on any foe on the battlefield. Every twitch garnered a flinch, every skipped breath a skipped heartbeat. My damned sneezes could be heard throughout the entire castle, throughout the entire town. I was just waiting for someone to announce they’d heard me sneeze at the furthest edges of the regions, echoing off the Black Mountains or the White Cliffs, resounding across oceans…

With all that, being so close to my sneeze must have been a form of auditory torture. And I couldn’t put my advisors through that. Not any longer. And not with the vague but unmistakable sense I felt that what was beginning to well up in me would be a fit to rival any I’d suffered since I came down with this accursed, irreparable allergy, this implacable need that seemed to be unmoved by any force physical or magical, on earth or in the realms above. I was going to sneeze, and the fit would leave me exhausted and the whole castle ringing, I knew. But the urge itself was small now, my winds gathering strength for the one man hurricane they would turn me into. What a curse, to make of a king a slave to his own body. I was disgusted with myself. And yet, I could no more stop the force building within me than I could will the rising sun to set or still the flowing tide.

This council meeting was accomplishing nothing. And dammit, I needed to sneeze.

Abruptly, I pushed back from the chair. Everyone rose with me. “Ladies and gentlemen, you must excuse me, I’m a-afraid… oh I…” I was doing my best to keep up a kingly facade but already I was faltering before the effort of damming back the torrent of sneezes that seemed to be pressing up against each other, jockeying for position, each demanding to be the first to erupt out of me. “oh gods, I have to sneeze. It’s going to be a terrible fit and I… Iahhhhhh… I m-muuhhhhh… I must r-repair to my… my chahhhhHHHHH… hAHHHHHHHHHHHH… w-with m-mehhhh…!”

I ordered my retinue to follow me, but I’m sure a number of them did so quite reluctantly, and frankly I couldn’t blame them. What I felt coming seemed like a sneeze to beat all sneezes, an itch to beat all itches, nothing which could soothed, calmed, or controlled by a little finger under the nose, a few rough rubs. I’d asked my former manservant more than once about his… powers. How he felt all the hidden powers of the earth welling up through him, the connection to the secret side of everything, how he could make it shimmer and dance. I felt the same sense of something beyond myself intruding upon me, but it was not under my control. I was beneath its thumb, dancing like a marionette on a string in miserable abasement to, of all things, a tickle in my nose.

“Someone… someone please… huhhhh… p-put your f-finger… under…”

It was pathetic. At least I’d managed to get well out of the way of the council chambers before I succumbed. I’d only embarrassed myself like this once or twice before, but if this went on much longer, I’d have to appoint a knight to do this for me full time, to press and pinch and wrangle my nose in a way my own hands could no longer suffice. Perhaps that way I could at least forestall the sneezes long enough to do any of the duties of a king.

But for now, my only goal was fighting off the absolutely monstrous fit I felt brewing for a few more moments, until I could at least reach my chamber. At least then I could succumb in private, although such succumbing was never private. Before the curse even, I blushed to think a vigorous sneeze might echo through the castle, and I never could dam them back. But under the curse now… all of the castle, all of the city heard my every falter. The sound of my failure resounding back at me from every brick in the kingdom.

The Captain of the Guard slid a thick finger under my nose, and ever so imperceptibly the urge diminished. He pushed upward, hard. And all I could do was blink at him in acknowledgement. At this point a single word would send it all crashing down.

“Knights dismissed! I will escort the King further.” I heard his voice ringing out, and I was as grateful as I’d ever been for him. At least the knights would be spared the very worst. The captain alone would be with me to the eruptive end.

“Not much further now, sire. Please, hold out!” And there was an uncertainty or even... a fear in his voice. It wasn't as if I'd never heard such fear from the Captain of the Guard before. We had quested together, season after season. But this tone of voice ought to be reserved for a onrushing army or a sleeping dragon. Surely there was no reason to steel himself so before my nose?

“T-t-traahhHHHH… tr-trying…” I choked out, scrunching my nose as aggressively as I could, as though if my nostrils recoiled from the irritation, I might dodge the sneeze—no, sneezes—altogether.

And suddenly, unimaginably, the urge… exploded.

It was as if I had never needed to sneeze before in my life. Tears sprang to my eyes, and the simmering flame of the urge became a wild forest fire. Helplessly, I jerked away from the Captain, scrubbing desperately at my nose even as the heavy breaths ripped themselves from me…

“HHHHEEEEEEEEEEEEUUUUUUUUUUUUUUHHHHH… HUUUUUUUUUUUUHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH…”

“My King, not yet!” the Captain insisted. Not to be deterred, he came up behind me and tried to guide me, but I was surrendered to the sneeze, overpowered by the urge, defeated by the invisible twinging need. He was practically pushing me as the sneeze swelled and swelled.

“HUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH… UUUUUUUUUUUHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH…”

It swelled more and MORE, feeling more ferocious than any of my previous sneezes. I felt like a volcano on the precipice of eruption, as though my winds were swirling and turning and twisting and braiding their way towards tornadic devastation, as though I were not only a a lightning strike but indeed a whole storm set loose to wreak havoc across the land.

“Nearly there, nearly there, please sire you musn't give in…”

But it was too late.

“AAAAAAAAAAARRRRRRRRRRRRSSSSSSSSCHHHHHHHHHHHHUUUUUUUUHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!” I exploded, and it was as though… some sort of… power erupted from me, from my mouth and nose from… from everywhere. The sneezes had always been incredibly loud but now tapestries on the wall flapped, armor rattled, it sounded as though something fell but I couldn’t tell because before I could so much as think, the next sneeze was already erupting: “HHHHHHHHHHHHHHHOOOOOOOOOOOOO-AAAAAAARRRRRRRRRRRSSSSSSCHHHHHHHHHHHHHHUUUHHHH!!!! AARRRRRRRRRRRRRSSSSSSSSSCHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHUUUUUUUUUHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!! HehHHHHHHH… HEEEEEYYYYYYYAAAAAAAAAAAAAAATTTTSSSCCCHHHHHHHHHEEEEEWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWW!!! YYYYYYYYYYYYYAAAAAAAAAAATTTTTTTTTTTTSSSSSSSSSSSSCCCCCCCCCHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHEEEEEEEEEEEEWWWWWWWWWW!!!”

On and on and on the sneezes came, more and more violent, “volume” not even describing what I felt bursting from me. Somewhere, dimly, I heard the sounds of something falling over, and yet still the steady pressure of the Captain at my back, finally…

“Sir, your chamber… We must not let them see you!”

Whether I was able to exert some minimal effort even subdued by my sneeze attack, or whether the Captain just shoved me, somehow I stumbled into the chamber, still sneezing relentlessly, barely heard the door slam behind me, helpless to the urge. My whole world narrowed to my nose, and it was as though some block within me surrendered and the sneezes roared out of me, louder and more violent than ever before again and again and again…

I could not tell how long it had been when the fit finally ended. I felt… amazing. Warm and sated. Entirely itch-free, as though I’d never need to sneeze again in my life. Practically glowing. Maybe that was it? Maybe that monster of a fit had at last blown the insufferable urge away for good? But the moment of euphoria lasted barely an instant. I heard a… squeak? and I opened my eyes to find… him. The sorcerer. His robes and hair disheveled, and then, the room… The bed was without sheets. The mattress ripped, feathers piled against the stone wall, piled up with the rugs, half my clothes, my pillows, my chairs…

��Wh-what… what did I… what did I do?” I asked, panting and mortified.

He stood, mortified, as red as I’d seen him in years. His mouth agape. “I—I… I—I have to go!” He exclaimed, and rushed from the room.

Had I hurt him? Scared him? Surely he of all the denizens of the castle had no reason to fear… anyone. But as I cast my eyes across the disheveled, half-wrecked room, I began to see what he saw. Nothing to fear. But something to pity. An out-of-control freak. Certainly no King.

And even then, with a trickle of fear running down my spine… I began to feel the urge to sneeze again, sputtering back to life. I sat on my bed, feeling the weakened timbers sputter and creak with my weight, head in hands.

“By all the gods…”

#snz story #King's New Allergy #Part 4 #giant!sneeze #sorta #snz fic

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energyanon · 3 years

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Surprise reading as I can’t seem to shake off the curiosity. Ok, I’m gonna set them up in relation to this drama. Personally, I don’t believe it. NV would have to have various personality disorders in order for this to be true, among 5000 other reasons why that is not normal, sane human behaviour. But the Instagram.. so many things don’t match up. However, both me and another anon felt fuzzy headed when we were representing her.. maybe it’s not just her overthinking, maybe it’s something more relating to some kind of disorder, but that’s not my place to say. Let’s check it out. Once again I’m gonna type as I go.

I’ve decided for three set ups here: 1. NV, 2. The group chat as a whole as cited on said Instagram, and 3. Henry.

Set up 2. (The GC) first. I picked up NV and got a headache.

First flag: Natalie wanted to be on top of the GC… that’s weird..

Henry is at a distance but he is staring at them both. Starting to feel like I may have been wrong in my judgment here ha.. 😬 I’m really hoping it’s not true cause otherwise that’s fucking sad and NV has genuine issues. But, I’m ok with being wrong.

Alright, let’s start as NV (cause GC, I feel I already know their feelings regardless of if it’s true or not) FYI, I have moved NV to being close but not on top, as one energy on top of - group of energies would be much too hard to decipher.

NV:

Immediate dizziness. I feel very hot and my air con is currently blasting down upon me so it’s not me. The group chat feels very little to NV. like tiny, as in I could step on them. (1. This can mean they’re not even being seen, she barely cares about them, or 2. Can feel more powerful than) as we know in the screenshots the latter was supposedly the case, so I’m not going to cross that out just yet, but it feels more like I’m just not even seeing them. they’re dirt under my feet. They don’t really have her attention and she’s not super bothered by them, but once I brought her attention to it She does want to stamp it out, it’s a complete nuisance. She wants to cover them up. I gave them a little tap, which ended turning into many taps which turned into actually wanting to destroy their rep all together. so she’s angry about it. (At this point I don’t know if she’s angry about This situation being a lie, as in she’s sick of these people doing this to her, or if she’s genuinely angry at the group for exposing her) the tiny dirt now feels a bit bigger but more like a basketball sized nuisance. She still feels bigger than them, it’s just that this is so ANNOYING. Still wants to rip them up into little pieces, she’s annoyed, she’s moving me around a whole bunch, she’s angry, she’s frustrated, she’s tying her hair up, she’s not having it. like it’s fucking annoying. this is all so ANNOYING. She’s stressed, she’s annoyed, she wants this over and done with.

No more energy shifts. Incoming questions.

Q: do you know them?

No I don’t fucking know them

Ok do you think that was a friend who exposed you?

I don’t know I can’t think I- (just a bunch of profanities) [note: it’s like she’s keyboard smashing in my brain right now it’s REALLY annoyed]

Jaw clenched, I’m swaying from side to side my hands are on my hips, hair away from my face I want to move somewhere else but I need to deal with THIS FUCKING THING FIRST ISHDJFKSJXJDSNX.

god it is SO ANNOYING like if you guys were all in front of me right now you’d be heading me yelling and screaming and So irritated I’m so I’m SO Annoyed. I can’t even think of any other questions to ask cause I’m too busy getting keyboard smashed atm.

I’m gonna move to the group to just see if the intentions there are legit. I need a break from NV.

Ok the group:

the group have some anxiety, stomach dropped. They’re not angry they’re just looking at NV. None of them can be sure if It was NV - I think some of them doubt but it was a “get it out just in case” situation. At least one of them feel bad. Nervous jitters from my right leg. You know how you fidget when you’re waiting to get in trouble?

Q: do you believe it was NV?

There are many of them so I’ll just say it as it came up. No (1) I don’t know (majority) one of them is a yeah, feels like the leader of the group but even then the yeah isn’t a solid resounding yeah. But it’s also not like a “yeaahhh?” It’s like I’m just gonna make a decision and it’s yeah.

Q: are you mad that nv is with Henry

I’m not mad (1)

We’re not mad, we just think he could do better. (Majority)

Q: why did you do this

To expose her

Q: why to expose her if you didn’t truly believe it was her

There is a very weak “it was the right thing to do” like.. when I say weak it feels like they don’t even believe that, but they’ve convinced themselves it is..?

Q: at any point did you lie or fabricate the screenshots?

Resounding no, but one solid yes from someone.

Q: Yes?

One of them.

Q: which one

(I was shown one of them, it was one of the purple and black ones, one where there isn’t much purple - I’ll have to check it after)

Ok, my leg isn’t going crazy anymore - there is just an expectant waiting. They’re looking at NV, she’s taller than them but not much taller (not like they’re a basketball being looked down upon, just normal human heights) the feeling is just waiting. Waiting to see if there is a response. That’s it, that’s all I’ve been given I can’t even conjure Up another question. (Sometimes when the energy is done sharing its just done, I can’t force it past that and I’m not in my right to)

Checking Henry:

Henry is tired, he’s disillusioned, he’s just staring into space. The other two are in front of him (facing one another) but he doesn’t see them. Genuinely no thoughts from him it’s complete disassociation. But I did ask if he knew about this situation, he doesn’t seem to know yet.

And yet he’s still disassociating.. the thought “I don’t know what to do” came up, but it was so slow and fractured it was like… you know that video of that kid who’s trying to say have you ever had a dream that you could do anything but he muddles it up for 20 seconds before getting to it? It’s like that (I’ll link it when I’m done)

“I don’t kn- I just I - what do I ev- wh-“ and it keeps going but imagine it taking FOREVER for him to say it.

He’s stuck in the disassociation. Weird choice, but I need to do it. I’m gonna slap him. (Which yes, means slapping myself)

Ok, that didn’t make much difference, he’s still super tired, he still didn’t see the other two but I tried to bring his attention to NV and he was already turning around to leave “I don’t care, I don’t care I’m too tired” and then he turned back and said to NV to clarify “I do care, but I don’t, I’m tired” and I took him out cause he was walking out of there anyway.

Back to NV one last time, and then I’m doing other stuff with my day and then I’ll do CE tonight.

It’s always dizziness with this chick, I swear. Everytime im with her I’m dizzy, I’m losing blood pressure. She’s calmed down at least but fuck I’m dizzy more dizzy than I usually am (can be her, could also be me continuously going into different energies, I don’t tend to feel like this though but don’t rule it out)

Dizzy, Im not tired, but fatigued like I don’t need to sleep, I need to just lay down. I see the GC but they can fuck off I don’t care. She wants to kick them out of the way. As soon as she does she wants to leap out at them and tear them to shreds. She goes from 1- 100 real quick. I don’t want her to destroy my representative for the group, cause I don’t want anything to accidentally manifest in real time for the actual group, so im going to create a little thing that she can destroy instead - just in case there are any energetic consequences of her destroying the representation of the GC. Found a little piece of paper I called it placebo GC and we’re tearing it up.

Ok so, I got her to tear up Placebo GC. She got raveonous with it. I am now coming to believe that NV has some major anger issues. To be fair, im feeling how annoyed she is and I get it honestly it’s the only way to get out this level of emotion. It’s not healthy, therapy is needed for sure, but I’m not gonna sit here like this and say that she’s overreacting cause when you’re feeling like she is, there’s no where else for this to go

She ripped them up, crushed them, tore at them with her teeth, crushed them into a little ball again and chucked them away and then we just screamed “FUCK!” For literally about 3 minutes and she was LIVID. I’ve sat her down now while I write this, she’s still annoyed, she’s not livid.

Interesting to note though, all throughout the screaming there was never a single thought that came up that was like “why can’t they just let US live, why can’t we just BE together” she really doesn’t seem to care about the affect it has on her and Henry’s relationship, she’s just annoyed people are talking shit. Like she just doesn’t care that people won’t accept them.

Oh! I haven’t checked on her vs. HC so lemme do that. I wanna see if she checks up on him too, cause from a normal relationship perspective, this would affect him too. But let’s see.

Yup, ok, nothing from her end, if anything she’s giving him the silent treatment. Like she’s looking at him in the way you do when your partner has said something stupid and you’re too angry to answer. But she doesn’t care that he’s there. I went to him also to see if he would comfort her and he was just a brick wall, kind of more like “here I am I’m showing up but idc. I really idc. Sorry that you’re going through it I guess.” Both of them had the ~aura~ (I don’t know how to explain it on text) of “this did not go as planned” however, they didn’t SAY that, just as an FYI, it was just a bit of a shared feeling translated into words.

That’s it. I’m ending it there. I’ve got life admin to do, be back later for a CE reading as promised. :)

#ooo I should also check on the “quote NV unquote in the Instagram #fuck that would have been a good idea to see if it was legit her or not.#I’ll leave the set up as it is #do my stuff #do CE as promised and then try that out #reading #nv #hc

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six-of-woes · 4 years

Text

The Clown and the Potato Sack (Aerin x MC) Chapter 2

Chapter 2/?: A Sudden Interest in Floriculture

Paring: Aerin Valleros x F!MC

AO3 Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24533863

Previous Chapter: https://hi-im-a-salty-human-being.tumblr.com/post/619969185697710080/the-clown-and-the-potato-sack-aerin-valleros-x#notes

Summary: Now with the Dreadlord defeated and her friends out of Whitetower, Cassia Nightbloom, is bored. Extremely bored. She wants to do literally anything, but she doesn’t know what. Her solution? Try to get some answers from a certain corrupt prince. Unfortunately, that leads to a wacky yet angsty adventure involving a potato sack, a wooden spoon, and A LOT of clowning around. At least she’s doing something…right?

Author’s Note: Soooo...I wrote another chapter. It’s shorter...but that’s beacsue there’s gonna be more chapters...So you have that to look forward to. Idk how to know when people want to be tagged unless the specifically tell me because I have the social awareness of a turtle...so... if you wannt be tagged...let me know in the notes...

Tags: @what-do-you-mean-theyre-evil @theclowneryqueen@findmeafterlife @0oi-io0 @thatgirlbuhle @mirabelle-choices@souhmhey @king-erzsebet @vlastomilsworm @diamonds-and-decorum @xsweetnspookyx @ernest-harrington @walkerswhiskeygirl @gela-mndz

~~~

“I have time.”

Aerin swallowed hard and took a seat across from Cassia. “Are you sure?”

Cassia continued to frown, but nodded. “Everyone else left town a few hours ago and this is the most dangerous things can get right now.”

“Are you really that bored?” He asked, starting to fiddle with his potato-sack-tunic.

“I’m bored and I want answers,” she spoke firmly, trying not to let her emotions out. Why was she doing that anyway? Aerin couldn’t do anything to her if he saw that she was weak, right? Other than get in my head. So yeah. Cassia wasn’t gonna look sad. Not that she was. Well...she was sad. But that was because her friends had just left town. Not because of Aerin. Duh...right?

Aerin shook his head. “Fine, but don’t act surprised when the answer is just corruption.”

“Just tell me what happened, Aerin,” Cassia said, biting her lower lip.

A few seconds of silence passed before anyone said anything. The longer Cassia stared into his dark, corrupt, eyes, the more the whole situation set in. This was the real Aerin. The prince she met in the Deadwood was just a facade.

Aerin sighed and shook his head. “Alright, fine, but I’m only doing this to get you out of here.”

“That’s fine. All I need are some answers,” Cassia said, crossing her legs. “It’s not like I want to be down here much more than you do.” She shivered and pulled her cloak tighter around her shoulders.

“Okay,” he breathed. “It happened when I was really young, maybe two or three. I don’t remember the full details of what happened, but it ended with my chambers trashed, my storybooks torn to pieces, and my nose bloodied. I tried to tell my parents but…they refused to believe that their “perfect little future king” could cause such destruction.” Aerin let out a dry laugh and looked at the mossy brick wall. “They actually tried to accuse me of doing it myself for attention…Attention that neither of them ever gave me.”

About a minute of silence passed by again. Aerin continued to look at the wall, but Cassia could see the emptiness in his expression. There wasn’t any sadness, but there wasn’t any anger either. He just…stared.

“Soooo…How did you get corrupted?”

Aerin looked back at Cassia and sighed. “The details are fuzzy…but I remember running off to somewhere in the castle to be alone…that’s when Erthax found me. I don’t know or remember how, but he told me that if I helped him, there would be a day where I’d never have to be hurt by Baldur again.” He looked down. “I’m quite sure you can guess what happened next.”

He was three. Cassia thought. A child. A pawn.

“Can you leave me alone now?”

Cassia shook her head. “Not until the other two guards get here. You’re not supposed to be left alone.”

The grown that Aerin let out could probably be heard from Flotilla. Or the shadow realm. Or both. Probably both. Aerin was a bit of a drama queen.

“You think I want to be here? Because I don’t. “

“But—didn’t you—aren’t you—for a reason—what?”

Cassia crossed her arms and shook her head. “Just because I wanted answers doesn’t mean I want to spend an extended amount of time in this cold, damp, mossy dungeon. It’s freezing.

Aerin scoffed. “Oh, poor you. You’ve had to stay down here for what—thirty minutes? I can’t even fathom that. I’m only down here for, oh, I don’t know—the rest of my life!”

The pair spent the net few minutes glaring at each other. Anger and frustration began welling up in Cassia’s chest the longer she gazed into his eyes, the eyes that she couldn’t believe were Aerin’s, the eyes that weren’t the ones she saw at the lake. They couldn’t be. They didn’t have the same life in them. That Aerin was hopeful. This Aerin was a bitch.

Cassia sighed and laid down on her back. She ignored the puddle she was laying in, even as the water soaked through her clothes. Truly, what could she do now? She got what she could out of Aerin. That was the last interesting thing she could think of.

Fifteen minutes passed, and there was still no sign of the guards. Fifteen minutes passed, and Cassia’s eyelids grew heavy. Fifteen minutes passed, and Aerin stared blankly at his prison.

Drip. Drip. Drip. Cassia gazed at the ceiling, watching the droplets of water fall all around her. And on her. There was a reason that puddle she was laying in was where it was.

As much as she didn’t want them to, Cassia let her thoughts drift back to the lake again. The unicorn still bothered her, but, she knew that with Aerin in this bad a mood, she wasn’t going to get that answer any time soon. She thought about when it was just them, sitting on the edge of the lake. When they splashed each other, when they just talked. How pretty those flowers looked in the moonlight…

The lake…those flowers…

Cassia sprung to her feet. “THE MOONBLOOMS!”

“GAH!” Aerin screeched, falling back at Cassia’s sudden shout. He held a hand up to his head and glared at Cassia. “What the hells are you going on about?”

“Oh gods,” Cassia breathed, starting to bounce from foot to foot. “That’s the cure!”

“For what?” Aerin snapped. “Corruption?”

“No!” She yelped. “My boredom!” Cassia let a beat pass by. “…Okay, maybe to cure your corruption too.”

“Psh,” Aerin scoffed, turning his back to Cassia. “What makes you think I want to be cured, huh? I have a revenge plan to form. I don’t have time to not be corrupted.”

Cassia snorted. “Of course you don’t want to be not corrupted. You’re corrupted!” She made a mad dash to the exit. “I’ll be back! I have a plan!”

Aerin turned back around and grasped onto the bars of his cell. “No! Wait! I don’t consent to this plan!”

“Too late!”

~~~

“Soooo…You gonna tell me why you have an interest in magical floriculture all of a sudden?”

Cassia didn’t look up from her book. “I’m bored, Kade. I’m bored and I want to learn about flowers. Must you judge me for such an innocent hobby?”

The morning light bathed Cassia’s spot in the library in light, creating a warm blanket around her. Cassia’s book was one on magical flowers(unsurprisingly) and their properties. So far, there was nothing on moonblooms.

“You know the fact that you’re calling your hobby “innocent” makes me even more suspicious, right?” Kade picked a random book off one of the shelves and sat down on the floor in front of the chair Cassia was sitting in.

“Well, I never questioned your tiny chair collection,” she muttered, thumbing through the pages.

Kade shrugged and started reading his own book. “Alright, you got me there.”

Cassia smirked. “Thanks. I’ll be sure to update you when I get out of trouble.”

“What could you possibly be doing with flowers that could get you into trouble?” Kade scratched his head. “Wait…never mind. You can get into trouble for anything.”

“Damn right I can.”

As Cassia continued to skim her book, she smiled at all the memories she had of getting in trouble with Kade. It was a simpler time…when the most danger she could get in was by trying to steal a pie, not…you know…having to venture into the equivalent of hell to make sure her best friend wasn’t used as a vessel for an ancient beast to try and take over the world.

Eventually, Cassia came across the page she was looking for.

Moonblooms: Only Known Cure for Corruption

Cassia’s heartbeat quickened as she read the title. Alright, this is it. What do we gotta do to cure Aerin’s corruption our boredom?

Moonblooms used to be used by the Elven Empire to cure any forms of corruption. Unfortunately, just before the Shadow Court revolted, they made an effort to destroy as many moonblooms as possible. Within the last few thousand years, there haven’t been any reports of living moonblooms.

However, if you ever find yourself in a situation where you know of a place to get moonblooms, and have some corruption you’d like to cure, here’s what you would need to do:

Soak the petals in a bowl of water for around eight and a half minutes. By then, the water should be a deep plum color, and it should be steaming. Once your concoction is in this state, have your corrupted being drink it. Yes, it may be extremely hot, but it’ll do no lasting harm to the mouth. Once the cure has entered the system, results will be almost immediate, but be warned: all of the shadow being expelled at once will be incredibly painful for the one being cured. The records have people stating that it feels like throwing up knives, as well as stating an appearance of blood. Another side effect of this cure is feelings of extreme remorse, sadness, and joy, all at once.

“Hey, Kade?”

“Hm?”

“Do you wanna help me with something?”

Kade didn’t look up from his book. “Sure.”

“Even if it involves breaking Aerin out of his cell to get him to the Deadwood to cure him of his corruption?”

“Does this happen to have anything to do with you kissing him at some point?”

Cassia scoffed. “N-no! I’m just bored!” She started rolling from her heels to her feet. “I need more adventure! This is the closest I can get to the ordeal we just went through! I’m certainly NOT doing this because I have a history with him.”

Kade looked up from his book and raised an eyebrow.

“Okay—maybe it has something to do with it,” Cassia mumbled, crossing her arms. “But—that’s not…the only reason why…”

“Sure, Cassia. Whatever you say.” Kade set his book on the floor and grinned. “So…what do you need me to do?”

~~~

“So remind me why we’re stealing sacks of potatoes from the kitchens again?”

Cassia slung another sack over her shoulder. “Because we need to make a convincing decoy.” She watched Kade drop one of the sacks. “Plus they’d probably help us knock out the guards.”

Kade heaved the dropped potato sack over his shoulder. “Right…how are you supposed to get him out of there? Isn’t there a magical shield or something?”

“You’re forgetting I’m a powerful magic-user. I’m sure I can figure out some way to break him out.”

“So what I’m hearing,” Kade said, pushing the kitchen doors open. “Is that you don’t have a plan at all.”

“You wound me, brother,” Cassia said, slinging the potatoes into the wheelbarrow sitting outside. “My plan is to make it up as I go.”

#blades of light and shadow #aerin valleros #prince aerin #aerin x mc #bolas #kade of riverbend #pixelberry #playchoices

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greyygracee · 4 years

Text

gorgeous... what does it mean? (sal fisher x reader)

Fandom - Sally Face

Summary - The reader finds out that Sal doesn’t seem to grasp what the word gorgeous means. This fan fiction was heavily inspired by the wonderful anime, Violet Evergarden.

Notes - Thank you all so much for the re-blogs and likes on heroine! It really means a lot to me and encourages me to keep on doing what I love which is writing :)).

As always, No pronouns for the reader are mentioned, if you do see they/them (referring to the reader) within this fan fiction, please replace them with your preferred pronouns. I did post this on AO3 as well, so if you want to read it there, the link is here

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Sal Fisher.

When I say that name, it reminds me of the boy to whom I hold dear to me. It would be an understatement to say that I liked the boy, because in reality, the feelings I had for him are immeasurable, hell, even saying his name out loud gives me pleasure and rolls off the tongue with ease.

Sal and I have been dating for around 2 months now and we have been friends ever since I was a 13. We pretty much grew up together and I practically lived with him at this point seen as we were both of age and we were inseparable- both as a couple and as best friends.

We were a fairly new couple and it was hard for us to adjust to the sudden lifestyle of showing affection toward one another, so we took it slow. There was the occasional date every now and again, but we never really held hands or anything of the sort- mostly because we just simply weren't ready for that yet.

I remember one occasion where in which he invited me out on a date himself, which was a weird turn of events. He asked me out to the markets that happened every weekend during the summer months of the year, more notably during June when there's the most traffic. I closed my eyes and sighed as I sat on my bed, 'remember...'

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June 15, 1995 - 3:15pm

I shoved my hands in the pockets of my (F/C) jacket as i stood in a market with wondering children, teenagers and adults, all wearing normal attire as they walked past Sal and I. The market was near the Addison Apartments which was convenient for us both seen as we did live in the cursed apartment. Sal had asked me out on a date today, a strange change of events but I (obviously) said yes and encouraged him to ask me out on more dates. I watched the crowd with timid eyes, careful not to stare at the people who i knew would get mad at me for staring.

"Y/N" Sal said to me, his blue eyes were concentrated on me with a hand on his heart, he gripped at his shirt as he looked down at a brooch that was similarly coloured to that of my eye colour. The (E/C) brooch reflected into his eyes, which made him all the more beautiful despite his prosthetic. I walked over beside him as I looked at the brooch myself, he looked at me and I looked at him. we both made eye contact as Sal pointed at the brooch,

"Your eyes... Y/N.. It's coloured like.. Your eyes" He pointed out. My cheeks tingled with a burning sensation that I wanted to stop myself, but the effort would prove itself wasted if i had tried to stop the pink blooming across my (S/C) face. There was a brief moment of silence between us where we both just.. stared at each other. Sal soon after we fell into silence narrowed his eyes and looked elsewhere, obviously embarrassed since he thought i didn't get what he had said,

"Never mind... You probably don't get it anyway" He mumbled as he took my hand and dragged me away from where the brooch laid. After a couple seconds of debating what to do, I pulled Sal's arm so then he stumbled backward into me and stopped walking. Sal gasped as he held onto his mask and fell back into me,

"Stop walking Sal! I know what you meant with the brooch." I said, he looked up at me and sighed, he opened his mouth to speak and before he could speak, I was quick to hush him with a finger on his prosthetic where his lips would be. I smiled sheepishly as I bowed my head and thought more about the brooch that he had compared my eyes to,

"It is a gorgeous brooch, thank you" I said, flustered as his eyes shone a little brighter, I looked toward him to see that he seemed to be in deep thought,

'gorgeous...' he mumbled under his breath as I laughed a little and snapped him back to his senses,

"Yeah, gorgeous! I appreciate that." I said as I squeezed his hand that I was still holding, upon realising this, he snatched his hand from where i was holding it. I laughed a little as I tugged on Sal's sleeve,

"It's getting late, we should be getting home, Sally Face" I said to him, he rolled his eyes as he spoke with what I assumed to be a smile beneath his prosthetic,

"Yeah, yeah, ok mum. Les go." He replied, I snickered as I stuck by his side and walked back to Addison Apartments.

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Those were the early signs of it. Within our first month of dating, we got to know a lot more about one another than we did during our many years of knowing each other, it just so happens that one of those facts was that Sal didn't know adjectives that would commonly describe someone as beautiful or pretty. It made sense, seen as little to no people knew what lay under his mask, but it never failed to make me frown whenever I thought about it.

I closed the door behind me as I walked out of my dad and I's room in the apartment, we lived on the same floor as Sal so it was easier for us to see each other. I walked over to room 402 and raised my hand to knock on the door, however instead I was greeted with a masked face opening the door. I flinched backward and stared at the masked boy who was standing there, he had his blue hair down and was wearing a black long sleeved shirt with maroon coloured ripped leggings. He also wore a prosthetic mask that was coloured purple on one side and white on the other, there was a crack on it so he placed tape in between the crack.

"Sal?" I asked, unsure of who it was, I heard a snicker from the blue haired boy as he nodded,

"Y/N" he replied as he leaned against the doorframe and crossed his arms, I blushed a little as I scanned the boy up and down,

"What happened to the pigtails?" I asked as I stared at him, he shrugged

"I wanted to try out something new today, what's the matter with it?" He replied, I shook my head and chuckled,

"Nothin, just not used to seeing you like this" I said, Sal got off from the doorframe, he walked out and shut the door behind him,

"Fair enough." He replied, I snickered as I crossed my arms,

"What are you? The door or somethin'? I almost knocked on your prosthetic. i coulda knocked you out if i wasn’t careful" I said as I flicked his prosthetic mask as lightly as I could, Sal laughed and messed up my (H/L) hair,

"Shut up you, now where're we heading?" He asked as we walked down the hallway and went to the elevator, I put a keycard in that Sal gave to me a while back and I chose the basement level.

"Outside for once" I replied, Sal let out a hardy chuckle as he looked over at me,

"Sounds nice, you said you wanted to give me something?" He inquired, I nodded and held out a small, brown, wooden box in my right hand, Sal let out a gasp as he reached out to touch it, I snatched it away before Sal and I shook my head.

"Patience, my Sally Face" I said, Sal groaned and he crossed his arms at what I said and faced the elevator doors as they opened. I winked at the frustrated boy and I walked out of the elevator, Sal followed close behind. Larry and Lisa weren't at home, so I asked Larry for permission to go through his house to get to the back of the apartment and, if we needed, if it was okay to use the treehouse. I remember Larry saying 'go on dude, you do you'.

We made our way through Larry's house and outside the back of Addison apartment, I sat down on my knees when we were a good ways away from Addison hotel and I looked up at Sal.

"Sit" I instructed as I patted a spot next to me and smiled sweetly up at the boy, he sat where I told him to on, his knees as well, and looked over at me.

"So, are you gonna give it to me now?" he asked, I laughed and I nodded, I took the box from beside me and caressed it, Sal was extremely impatient, so much so that sometimes it was insufferable. He looked at me with wide eyes and what I thought would be a smile on his face.

Earlier in our relationship, he did willingly show me his face, I still remember it like it had happened yesterday. Ever since then, when we were alone, he'd take off his mask despite how vulnerable and small it made him feel. I smiled at the boy and put a hand on his mask,

"Is it okay if you take this off? I love seeing your face, Sal, you don't have to take it off, though" I said, he let out a sigh as he nodded, he started to shake a little which I took notice of. He silently reached behind his head as he undid the buckles at the back and took off his mask. He set it to the side and gazed at me. I pressed a kiss against his cheek as I smiled at him,

"You're very pretty, Sal" I mentioned, his face turned pink as he looked at the floor,

"Im still kinda insecure about it though.. It'll take a lot of getting used to but I can trust you" He replied, he looked up at me and smiled sheepishly,

"Thank you, Y/N, I appreciate that" he said in a weak voice, I threw my arms around him and pulled him into a tight hug, he froze up a little as he wrapped his arms weakly around my torso and squeezed a little bit. The hug was warm, and it felt really nice. Moments of slight intimacy like these that Sal and I shared are the reason why we didn't do it much, just so then we could savour the moments we had together a bit longer.

I eventually pulled away and extended the box towards him, he stared at it and looked up at me and then down at the box, his face still red from the moment we had just shared.

"For you" I said as I waved the box around to gain his attention, his face turned a little red as he mumbled 'oh.. right' and took the box from my hand. I chuckled a little as I shuffled a bit closer to see his reaction as to what was in the wooden box.

After a moment of hesitation, he lifted the lid off of the box and set it aside, his eyes laid upon what was in the box as they turned into the size of sauce pans. Tears brimmed the lids of his eyes and he took out the (E/C) brooch that was inside of the box. He looked at me and gestured towards the brooch,

"I-is this-" He asked as I cut him off,

"Yeah.. The brooch you compared to my eyes at the market a while ago. You seemed mesmerised by it and I couldn't help myself" I said, He looked at the brooch once again and held it up to his forehead with a smile on his face,

"T-thank you.. Y/N.." He said, tears fell down his cheeks as he gripped harder onto the beautiful (E/C) brooch. He put the brooch back in the box as he took a wilting rose out of his pocket, he sighed,

"I remember that day, and I remember the words you spoke... There was one that stood out to me the most, and that was gorgeous" He looked over at me and tucked some of the stray (H/C) locks that had fallen out of my (ear / hair clip) previously,

"You called the brooch gorgeous.. But, I fail to understand what that word means.." Sal said, I gasped as my eyes started to brim with tears that when I blinked, rolled down my cheeks and fell onto the grass below. The feeling of dread hit me like a truck going down a highway at 1000 miles an hour. I whipped my head around to the blue haired boy who sat beside me, my eyes were wide and my (S/C) cheeks were almost pale with shock,

'Sorry, can you.. s-say that again...? Sal?" I asked, I had to make sure that I wasn't hearing Sal wrong. Sal, without thinking, picked up the wilting red rose that I had just put down. He stared at it for a while before pressing the wilting flower against his purple and white prosthetic mask which posed as a barrier between him and I. Petals from the rose that couldn't hold on any longer fell onto the grass below us, and Sal merely watched. He moved the flower away from his face as he faced me once again,

'Please... Teach me what that word means....' Sal said, his voice light and soft, which caused my heart to pang even more than it previously had.

'Sal...' I said, dragging out the 'a'. His stare was helpless and he didn't seem to know what was wrong. I sighed and adjusted my sitting position so then I was sitting in front of him. I took one of his pale hands in both of mine and caressed it. He looked up at me and tilted his head a little, I let his hand go as I raised my arm and pointed to the sky, painted all sorts of hues as the sun was setting,

"What's this, Sal?" I asked, he looked to where I was pointing and looked back at me,

"The sky?" He replied, answering my question. I looked back at him and nodded,

"Right! How would you describe it" I said, looking at him, he looked back at the sky once again and studied it,

"I- it's uh- it's really pretty?" He replied once again, I smiled and nodded and he peered back at me, I pointed to the box that held the brooch inside of it,

"How would you describe the item in the box, Sal?" I inquired, he furrowed his eyebrows, I could tell he was getting frustrated,

"Pretty." He said, there were no signs of hesitation in his voice this time, seeing if I wanted a different answer, I simply smirked and nodded,

"Although blunt, yes, it is pretty" I said, he rolled his eyes and stared straight at me,

"What's the point of thi-" He spoke, but before he could finish his sentence, I pointed at him. Due to surprise, something got caught in his throat and he started to cough, I laughed as I patted him on the back. After the fit of coughs he had just had, I went back to pointing at him,

"How would you describe yourself, Sal" I asked, his face turned red as he stared at my pointed finger. After too long of waiting for him to say something, I smiled sweetly,

"I'd describe you as gorgeous, or what you understand, pretty" I said, he nodded, understand what I was saying. I lowered my hand and crossed my arms as I stared at the boy in front of me. His face turned a little pink as he lifted up his arm to point at me,

"So... That means you'd be gorgeous?" He asked as he leaned a little closer in, I smiled as my face turned a little pink,

"Cause.. Whenever I look at you, I don't feel alone anymore" He explained, leaning dangerously close to me,

"Whenever you look at me, my heart races and I see a future.. a future with you in it" Sal whispered against my lips, his indigo eyes staring into my (E/C) eyes. We were both extremely close to each other and Sal seemed to know this, however, he didn't flinch back. He didn't get impatient and look away, he stayed where he was. I knew what he wanted, but I was too scared to do anything but sit there.

"Y/N... I know it's taken a while for me to kiss you or hold your hand, and I'm sorry. I know there were moments where you wanted to kiss me, where you wanted to hold my hand and know I was really there. I felt it too, I really, really did." He explained, he pressed his forehead against mine with his eyes closed as he opened his eyes once again and tucked some hair behind my ear,

"I hope that I can make up for that.. Y/N, can I try something?" He asked with confidence dripping like goo from his words, I nodded

"Go ahead, Sal. I trust you" I replied, he nodded and he closed his eyes.

He hesitated for a bit, the silence was killing me as much it was him. Sal, of course, got impatient and harshly pressed his lips against mine, it was brief and quick, the movement was so fast I couldn't seem to process it. Before I knew it, the sensation of Sal's lips on mine was gone, and I had hardly felt it. He didn't seem quite satisfied, and nor did I, so he rolled his eyes and gently pressed his lips on mine again.

I wrapped my arms around his neck and pulled him closer, he wrapped his arms around my torso and pulled me closer to him, we were both on our knees so it didn't really matter. The kiss was passionate and, as cheesy as it sounds, full of whatever unspoken love we both had for each other that we hadn't acted on for what I presumed was years. We both eventually pulled away, we were practically out of breath and my knees throbbed.

Though breathless, Sal managed to say something to break the somewhat painful silence of our heavy breathing,

"I love you.. Y/N, I love you so fucking much that it hurts" He said, I pressed a quick kiss to his cheek with a wide smile,

"I love you too, Sal. You're the world to me" I replied, as he got up from where he was kneeling, I grabbed his prosthetic mask he almost left behind. Sal put his hand out for me to take, which I took, and he helped me get up. He pulled me forward so then I fell into him and he wrapped his arms around my torso as he stared into my eyes,

"You're my world too, Y/N" He replied. He pressed a kiss to my lips as he pulled away and stole his prosthetic back. I straightened myself up and he put his prosthetic back on,

"Say.. uh Y/N" He said, I looked over at him and nodded,

"Yeah?" I replied,

"Two things" He mentioned,

"One, will you take me as your boyfriend?" Sal asked, I nodded and smiled widely,

"Of course, only if you'll take me as your significant other" I replied with a smirk on my face, he chuckled and nodded,

"Why do you think Im asking if i wouldn't be?" He asked me, I shrugged my shoulders and shook my head,

"Go on?" I asked,

"Is it okay if you stay the night with me- or visa versa?" He asked with a sheepish smile on his face, I nodded as I pointed over to the treehouse,

"Larry said we can borrow the treehouse for the night.. We could use that? Y'know.. somewhere without our parents" I said suggestively, he laughed and nodded,

"I'll race ya" he challenged, I laughed as I nodded,

"Game on, loser." I replied, agreeing to his challenge. We both bolted for the treehouse with smiles on our faces from what had just previously taken place. As I raced with my new found boyfriend, everything felt as if it were going to be okay.

#sal fisher x reader #sal #sal fisher #x reader #x reader fan fic #fan fiction #fan fic #sally face #reader #reader insert #sally face x reader #sal fisher fic #sally face fan fic

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hiuythn · 5 years

Note

sorry to ask, but i saw u shared hc for the sick anon, im going thru a rough patch and ur fic rly cheered me up. Can i get some hcs as well?

this is how keith asks lance to marry him:

so we all know how from the beginning, from the moment things got resolved at the end of tnahp, that keith’s been upfront about never leaving lance. everyone knows he’s going to put a ring on that. he’s said it to lance’s face. “what else am i gonna do with you?”

it’s not until six years later that he actually does anything though. mostly bc of the war and the aftermath.

the team are in a meeting with the coalition, boring stuff, routine stuff, and the mind link is closed, bc sometimes keith and lance need breaks. he’s lucky that it was, though, because what happens next in his mind would’ve been enough to make lance fall out of his seat and ruin the meeting and coran would’ve killed them both lmao

lance is paying attention even though he looks just as bored as keith. diligent, as always. he’s even got a holoscreen projected, taking lazy notes. there are faint little sketches of the coalition members and the team. one is of shiro, snoring, comical Zs above his head. keith bites down on his cheek.

lance is twirling the pen in his left hand.

keith looks at that and thinks, loud and clear, there should be a ring on his finger.

he sits back.

huh.

it should be a surprise, he decides after a quiet minute. lance deserves that. it should be at the right moment, the right words, the right place. it should be soft and genuine and such a sweet shock that it takes lance seconds to reply. it should make his blue eyes fill with tears, it should make him curl into a ball before keith, who’ll still be kneeling, ring box open and laughing at him because wow, that’s nice reaction, lance. it should be a proposal so perfect that it makes lance kind of mad, makes him shove keith, makes him pout that frustrated-loving-happy pout.

(bros, as a gay, this is kind of really fucking gay)

keith spends the rest of the meeting laying out proposal plans. lance gets exasperated when he finds out keith remembers nothing of the meeting. “dude, you--tell me again, who’s the leader of voltron, here?” “it’s allura.” “....okay, but who flies bl--”

and some people might ask, what’s the point, if you’re already levertan-married? if you’ve mind-linked and basically achieved the pinnacle of ‘joining hands in holy matrimony’?

keith’s answer would probably be something like ‘fuck off, i love him that’s why’

(ngl that’s hella romantic. no? just me?)

the long answer is that he knows lance is a romantic. that he really likes gestures of affection, that his face gets all rosy and he always tries to bite back his smiles, and he gets so pleased and flustered and also adorably angry every time keith does anything for him. keith’s in love with that. he goes absolutely dumb over making lance happy, he’s fucking obsessed with it. every neuron in keith’s stupid head is devoted to lance like 24/7.

(it’s a given that lance is the same, if not worse. how tf do they get anything done?)

plus, levertan-married doesn’t really mean the same as human-married.

so keith--somehow--manages to pull off thinking up proposal plans without closing the link, without lance knowing--maybe bc his thoughts are purposefully fragmented like ‘white chocolate? milk?’ or ‘speakers? mic?’ or ‘beach sand feels sandy’ and yes it sounds absolutely dumb but it’s clever because after a while lance tunes it out. though, at the beginning, it really fucking worried him because it sounded like keith was having a stroke LMAO

over the next couple months, keith steadily puts his plan together: get the ring, figure out what to say, speak to allura about detouring to earth for some r&r, speak to shiro about not fucking things up for keith because i know you’ll do that somehow shiro no are you serious of course you would you’re evil do you even remember that time i said no to inviting people for my fourteenth birthday and you did it anyway even though i was looking forward to just playing video games for the whole day??? i had to deal with james griffin in my goddamn house you ass--

the day keith asks, everything--surprisingly--goes really well? like suspiciously so. like keith’s really glad but he’s itching to reach for his knife by the end of it, bc he was prepared for shiro to have done sth by now.

but nah, keith and lance have a lovely day hanging out, doing activities keith planned and things lance spontaneously suggests. the weather is a perfect breezy, sunny day. when the sun sets they wordlessly head for the beach. lance chases keith though the surf. they throw clumps of wet sand at each other. keith hoists lance in his arms, listening to him yell as keith spins them around. lance picks him up and tosses him into the shallows, that fucking jerk. lance gets keith to forgive him. lance gives keith his shirt, goes half-naked for keith’s shivering form. ‘i’m going to get a cold,’ lance says. ‘and i’m not?’ keith snorts. they walk down the beach and lance tells him stories, pointing to this rock or that spot and saying oh i broke my arm there or dude i saved a baby turtle from a seagull that day and keith soaks it all up like he’s the sand and lance is the ocean waves, coming back to him every time.

lance hops onto a rock, demonstrating to keith how he used to pretend he was a sea prince looking for mermaids. the winds play with his hair, the setting sun brushing golden against his bare chest and the grin on his lips. like this, he’s a foot or two taller than keith.

keith gets down on one knee.

it’s lance’s fault that the ring box is damp, but he’s lucky this thing is olkari-made, because when keith opens it up, the ring shines just as bright as lance. almost as bright. it tries its best but keith really only has eyes for his soulmate.

keith says:

every day, i want to choose you. every day, i want to get to choose you. every day, growing up like i did, was spent learning what i needed to live, what food or drink or mantra was needed to make it another day alone. my body forced to me to focus on its needs, on the bare essentials. if i went a month without a caring touch, it didn’t matter, because it hadn’t killed me yet.

before i fell for you, i don’t think i knew what it meant to want. i never had a chance to think about it, a second to indulge. if i wanted a home, a family, it was a weakness, a distraction, and i couldn’t let myself admit it. so i never learned to want.

the only other thing that comes closest to what i feel for you is probably flying. it’s that addiction to diving through the clouds, it’s free-falling, it’s soaring with my heart in my throat. and even then, even now that i know you, it doesn’t quite compare. it’s a poor substitute.

in this world we exist in, where some force out there knows exactly what we need, who we need, it’s kind of a miracle that i still got to choose you. i’m glad i got the moments where it hurt to think of you, because i wanted you so bad i couldn’t stand not having you. i’m glad i got to slowly realize that you were everything to me, on my own time. it was my own conclusion, my own resolution to love you because you were you, and not because you were someone i was supposed to love. the universe kind of tricked us, but i think she meant well.

and now i know, that even in a world where soulmates didn’t exist....i know i’d still want you.

i want to want you, every day. i want to wake up wanting you, every day, fall asleep wanting you every night. i want to leave for missions wanting you, want to stay behind watching you go, wanting you to return faster than you can. i want you to want me, too. i want a ring on our fingers, reminding me that you do, that you feel the same and you always will.

i want to marry you, lance mcclain.

will you marry me?

#klance #tnahp #tiwlll #fuck what the fuck #what the actual fuck that's so romantic #can someone check my head for me i think keith possessed me #holy god #ummmmm #i don't know how to explain this i've literally never been in love sjdfhksdjf #?????????????????#anon i hope this helps you!!!!! ily 💖💖💖#ask #my writing #y'all i really think i need an exorcist....#keith [reaching thru 15 dimensions to wrap his hands around my neck and wring it]:#tell them why i love lance kogane-mcclain!!!!! tell them!!! fuck!!#Anonymous

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dvp95 · 5 years

Text

can’t breathe when you touch my sleeve - chapter 10

pairing: dan howell/phil lester

rating: e

warnings: none

tags: alternate universe, slow burn, fluff & humour, tiny bit of inner turmoil wrt sexuality but trust me it’s not that deep, deeper than anticipated but still not that deep y'all this is primarily silly, eventual smut, idiots in love

word count: 4,286 for this chapter (45,795 total)

summary: Dan keeps making a fool of himself in interviews, to the point where it’s basically a meme. Now he’s got to sit down for the better part of an hour and sell his show to the YouTuber he’d had a massive crush on when he was a teenager.

read from the beginning on ao3 or on tumblr!

read this chapter on ao3 or here!

"Daniel?"

Dan blinks. He blinks again, zoning back into the conversation he's supposed to be a part of.

"Er," he says, sheepish. "What was the question?"

"Are you sure you're feeling okay, Daniel?" the woman asks - the interviewer asks, fuck, this is like the sixth time he's asked her to repeat herself. "I heard you were ill yesterday, weren't you?"

He wasn't. But that is what Jaime and Patrick had sworn up and down to anyone who asked, because they're good partners in crime like that. They look like they regret it now.

"Yeah, Daniel," Jaime says, stressing his name in a way that makes Dan think she's one more fuckup from smacking him in the back of the head. He'd probably deserve it, at this point. He can't remember being this scatterbrained in his whole life, and that's saying something. "You sure you're okay being out of bed?"

The word 'bed' gets stressed too, just a bit, and Dan feels a flush creeping up his neck.

It's honestly unreasonable how he can't seem to focus on the task at hand, which is answering softball questions about the show he's worked on for three years, because his mind keeps drifting back to Phil.

Phil, who he'd left in bed with Thor, all sleepy noises and grumpiness at Dan needing to leave. Phil, who has the day off and might still be mostly naked and lazy while he waits for Dan to come back. Phil, who he only has three days left with.

Three more days in London. Two sleeps. And Dan has shit to do every single goddamn day of it.

This is a work trip, technically. They've got a handful of interviews the next two days that couldn't be scheduled for their first London stretch, and then they're going to France. That's exciting, it is, a mark of success that Dan never expected for himself, but right now he's frustrated by anything that cuts into the time he could be using to kiss Phil.

Dan is so busy remembering how Phil's mouth had felt against his that he forgets to answer the question. He can practically feel his eyes glaze over.

"Daniel," Patrick says, audibly exasperated.

It takes a lot to get Patrick to that point, so Dan ducks his head and mumbles another apology.

"He's fine," Jaime tells the very nice and concerned interviewer whose name Dan has long forgotten. "He's just got a lot on his mind right now and he's really shit at multitasking."

"Hey," says Dan. It's a weak protest.

The interviewer is a tall woman with kind eyes that crinkle into laughter lines when she smiles at him. She's dressed casually, has a denim jacket with patches and pins all over it, and Dan feels his eyes linger at the rainbow on her pocket.

What is that like? To be so certain and so confident that you can wear it on your sleeve even in a professional environment? Dan doesn't know that he'll be able to get there.

He wants to compliment her on it. It's the same urge he had in the restaurant with Phil's family, vocalizing that he wishes he could wear more nail polish. The same swirling anxiety of being judged for it follows quickly, but this time it's amplified by the recording device in the interviewer's hand, the knowledge that anything he says right now will be analyzed to death later.

Dan wants to live authentically, and he wants to get to a place where he doesn't need to hide, but he's frustrated by the reality of how much progress that's going to take. It's not going to be easy, it already hasn't been, and it's never going to stop.

Even with making a name for himself and having an audience, Dan knows that coming out publicly still won't stop strangers from making assumptions about him or demanding an explanation for the women he's been seen with. He'll have to come out over and over and - it's scary. It's really scary.

The compliment catches in his throat. He can't say it to someone recording him, no matter how kind her eyes are. He hasn't even told his grandma yet.

"I like your jacket," he says instead. He feels like a coward for it.

"Thanks," the woman says brightly, looking down at herself and tapping one of her bigger patches. "Customized it myself, obviously. It's a wee bit more colourful than you like to be seen in, right?"

The casual chirping helps Dan relax, reminds him that this is a laid-back interview with easy questions. Nobody is shining a heat lamp on him and asking for an expose on how he spent part of last night inside of another man.

He grins and shrugs. "Yeah, alright, I wear a lot of black. Sue me. I can still think colours look nice on some people."

Great. Now he's thinking about Phil again.

"Like Jaime," Patrick offers, tugging at one of Jaime's bubblegum braids. Dan still can't tell if it's a wig or not, but she smacks Patrick's hand away like it's her own hair.

"That's true," says Dan. "Jaime wears as much black as I do, though, I dunno that she's the best example."

Patrick nods, solemn. "At least her hair is interesting."

"Oi, fuck you. Sorry," Dan adds sheepishly. Even though this is an online print interview, he still feels a little bit of shame whenever he slips up and curses during an interview.

The woman - Cara? Catherine? Camilla? Ca-something? - just laughs and waves his apology off.

With an ease that Dan can't help but notice isn't quite as practised as Phil's, the interviewer moves on to questions about their other cast members. While they don't have any trouble making fun of each other, it's even more fun to exaggerate stories of people who aren't here to defend themselves.

Dan tries so hard to participate. He does. He laughs in all the right places and gives Jaime grief for not remembering something right, because he's given this poor interviewer nothing of substance. The thing is that Jaime is better at telling stories and Patrick is so dry and stoic with interrupting jokes that Dan knows he isn't needed for this. He lets them bicker over a story detail that he's long forgotten and feels himself start to zone back out.

He listens to Patrick's slow timbre, Jaime's trill of a laugh, and lets his mind drift back to where it wants to be.

Even though it's tempting, Dan isn't stupid enough to text Phil in the middle of doing his fucking job. He has to resort to checking his phone between interviews and pictures, getting more and more pouty about the lack of response to the things he's sending throughout the morning. Phil must be having a lie-in, because it takes him a couple of hours to even see Dan's texts.

ugh i should have just stayed in bed

pls send thor pics

and you pics but like give me a heads up if your dick is out im at work

i dropped my coffee on jaimes lap fml shes gonna kill me

im just so distracted lmaooo

canft believe youre just asleep thats so rude

Oh nooooooo. I always cry over spilt coffee :( you want me to bring you one? I can come hang out for lunch!

The sweet text is accompanied by a photo of Thor asleep on the sofa, his little head pillowed on Phil's knee. Phil is wearing Dan's pyjama pants and - it's hard to tell for sure, with the way the photo is angled, but Dan thinks he's got the Friends shirt on. Frankly, that should be gross. Dan wore that shirt for way too long for it not to smell like, well, his sweat, and that is objectively not sexy.

Dan feels gooey warmth spread from his stomach outwards, anyway. Maybe it is gross, but it makes him happy to think about Phil's shirt smelling like him the way that his own Yeezy shirt still faintly smells like Phil. He covers his mouth with a hand so nobody milling around will see him grinning like an idiot.

thats ok, Dan texts back one-handed. yall look comfy you should stay. i'll b back for dinner and snuggles ok?

Ok! ^_^

God, but Dan wants to be there now. He wants to be the one cuddled up with his head in Phil's lap. He recognises that it's very stupid to be jealous of a dog, but he isn't going to let that stop him.

"Hey, Howell." Patrick's voice interrupts the daydream of slender fingers carding through Dan's hair.

Dan blinks. He blinks again, looks up.

"I didn't even see you sit down," Dan tells him, bemused. They're sharing a bench in the building's lobby, not wanting to go too far in case they need to go back upstairs for more photos during the short break in their day.

"Yeah, you're on another planet," says Patrick. Dan wishes he could argue that fact. "Things went well with your whole Love Actually emergency, then?"

The reference pulls Dan up short. He feels his brow furrow as he walks through the entire film in his head. "What are you talking about? None of this happened in Love Actually."

"It's British, isn't it," Patrick says nonsensically.

"I don't," Dan starts, but then he gives up. He and Patrick are close as coworkers - friends, even - but Dan never quite understands the links that Patrick's brain makes. "It went well. It went really well. I don't know if Jaime told you everything I texted her, but I like... fully ended up meeting the family."

Patrick's eyebrows raise slightly. That's quite a reaction, from him. "You met the parents? Bro. You just started dating."

They're not in an overly crowded area, but people keep waking by them on their way in or out of the building, so Dan is pleasantly surprised to discover that Patrick can play the pronoun game, too.

"Yeah," says Dan. He doesn't want to get into the mix-up right now. He's sure that Patrick will have another incomprehensible reference when he hears about it. "But it just feels... I dunno. Right? In a way other people haven't? Maybe that's obvious."

"It's not obvious," says Patrick. He's snapping a hair elastic around his wrist idly, the gesture something Dan had thought was an expression of annoyance or frustration when they first met. Dan knows now that it means Patrick is tired, that he wants to shove his hair off his shoulders and stop it from tickling his neck. They're only halfway through their day, though, still a couple of photoshoots to get through, so he can't put his hair up just yet.

Dan knows so much about these people. He's learned it all from such close proximity for the past three years, but he also genuinely likes spending time with them. He feels, suddenly, very guilty for wishing cancellation on this thing they've all worked so hard for.

"Sorry," Dan says.

"For what?"

He doesn't really know how to voice it. He shrugs. "For being a shit coworker right now."

Patrick gives him an indecipherable look and shakes his head. "Daniel," he says, "you're not being a shit coworker."

"I kind of am, though," says Dan. "Like I can't focus at all, I'm missing interviews, and I... I don't know how much I want to go back to Atlanta. Is that bad?"

"Why would that be bad?" Patrick hums. "This is your home."

Home isn't an easy concept for Dan to wrap his head around. He hadn't had a happy one for most of his life, hadn't been able to find somewhere that felt quite right ever since he escaped that. So it's a little disconcerting when Patrick's words settle into his chest and feel like indisputable truth.

"London is home," Dan echoes, wondering it it feels just as right coming out of his own mouth. It does. His head is spinning, a bit.

"Yeah," Patrick says, like it's that easy.

Dan gives himself a little shake back into the present. He smiles, wry. "Still, I probably shouldn't be crossing my fingers under tables for the producers to shut us down."

For a moment, Patrick looks confused. Dan is all ready to apologise again, shove those feelings down, but Patrick just says, "So negotiate your contract. You know that you aren't required by law to see the show through to the end, right? You can just not come back for season four, or only come back for a couple episodes instead of a full season."

They're sat in a fairly public area, with other people walking about, but Dan could hear a pin drop in the shattering silence that rings in his ears at Patrick's use of logic.

"I," says Dan, "did not think of that."

Patrick nods. "You kind of tunnel-vision sometimes, has anyone ever told you that?"

By the time Dan returns to Phil's building, he's talked himself into and back out of quitting his job a dozen times. It's a dumb decision, but not much dumber than simply waiting for someone else to make the decision for him.

He decides to call Amy when he's in France and talk the options through with her. She's already looking for potential gigs in the UK for him, so hopefully the conversation isn't going to come as much of a surprise to her. The last thing he needs is for his agent to get upset with him over making changes in his life.

Dan's head is buzzing with it, loud enough to give him a headache. He texts Phil that he's outside and waits to be let in. He gets an intrusive domestic fantasy of letting himself in with his own key, and reminds himself to rein in this U-Haul bullshit.

"Hey!" Phil beams as he opens the door and steps back for Dan to come in. Other people live on the other floors, but Phil still leans in for a long kiss the moment the door closes behind Dan.

It sends sparks up Dan's spine and quiets some of the unending noise in his head. He sighs, leans into the kiss, wraps his arms around Phil's waist to pull him even closer.

He's cognizant of where they are, though, so he pulls back to rest their foreheads together after a moment. "Hey yourself."

"Did you have a good day?" Phil asks, his tri-coloured eyes bright and unguarded.

"Yeah, but it's better now," says Dan. He's parroting what Phil said to him yesterday, and he can tell that Phil recognises it from the little smile on his face. "You look nice. You showered just for me?"

Phil laughs and tugs at Dan's wrist, pulling him down the stairs. They've got four left feet between them, honestly, so it's a miracle nobody takes a nosedive.

"Yeah," he says as they narrowly avoid any number of broken bones. He presses Dan against the wall next to his front door and grins at him. "But it was also for the judgey moms at the dog park. You look nicer, you didn't take the makeup off?"

To be honest, Dan had forgotten it was even on his face. He settles his hands on Phil's hips and smiles. "They made me look like the best version of me, why would I erase all their hard work?"

"Mm, you do look pretty," Phil says, and Dan is lucky to have his back against a wall. His knees might have actually buckled at the praise if he was unsupported.

"Pretty, huh?" Dan asks. He tries to keep his tone dry, like it's a big joke, but Phil's big eyes just see too much.

"Very pretty," says Phil. Dan doesn't know how to handle being complimented by Phil's deep, sincere voice, but he isn't given much of a chance to react before Phil is speaking again. "But I don't know that I'd call this the best version of you. You looked really nice when you came, y'know."

"Fuck, Phil," Dan laughs, a little breathless. "I was literally gone for ten hours."

"Ten hours too many," Phil grumbles.

Dan laughs again, but he has to admit that Phil has a point. The day had absolutely dragged on with the knowledge that his probably-boyfriend was waiting for him.

"You wanna go inside, then?" Dan suggests, running his thumbs just under the hem of Phil's clean shirt. "I'll do a lot of things, but this floor is cement, mate. I'm not blowing you out here."

The giggle that's surprised out of Phil makes Dan smile so wide it hurts his cheeks. He smacks the center of Dan's chest lightly and steps back to let them both into his flat. "I was thinking we could, like, order dinner first or whatever, but I'm not going to complain if you want to switch up the itinerary."

"The itinerary," Dan mocks, looking around for a ball of fluff running directly at them as he struggles with his shoes. "Uh, where's Thor?"

"Uh," says Phil. There's colour high in his cheeks that he tries to hide by flopping onto the sofa. The sweats he stole off of Dan don't really leave much to the imagination at all, not when he's sitting like that, and Dan almost loses his balance when he stands up straight. The pink doesn't leave Phil's face, but a knowing smirk joins it. "He's in the bathroom."

Dan's heart skips like an old CD player and he laughs to mask just how fond he is. "Uh huh, and here you are acting like you were really ordering food first."

"Well," Phil says, his smirk growing, "we could still order first, it'd be at least twenty."

"Sounds like a challenge," Dan hums, coming around the sofa to sit on the other end and lean forward, kissing the sliver of skin where Phil's shirt is riding up. "Why don't you do that, and I'll go get a bloody condom."

Phil blushes, proper blushes, and pulls a packet out of his pocket. "Ta-da," he jokes, weakly. "For my next trick -"

"If you say you're going to make your penis disappear," Dan says, flat, "then I'm walking out."

They just look at each other for a long moment, like a staring contest neither of them initiated, and then Phil snorts. That sets them both off and soon enough they're laughing, Dan's nose tucked against Phil's hipbone and Phil's hand over his mouth.

"I wasn't going to say that," Phil insists, still giggling. "I wasn't."

"Sure you weren't." Dan grins up at him and slides up his body, a little less graceful than he'd imagined it in his head. He presses their smiles together and licks into Phil's mouth. A little noise passes between them when Phil's hands find their way into Dan's hair, but Dan isn't sure which of them it comes from.

The giddy feeling of laughter doesn't leave Dan's chest. He lets it make a home there as he trails kisses all over Phil's long, pale neck. He doesn't need to guess when Phil likes something - he squirms and makes these little huffs of noises, grip on Dan's curls tightening just a bit before it loosens again. It feels impossibly powerful to learn how to take Phil apart like this, like they're teenagers snogging on the sofa in their first relationship.

It's strange that this does feel like a first relationship for Dan, in a lot of ways. He loved his first girlfriend and cared about other women he's dated, but it's not the same at all.

Finally, Dan is allowed to feel all the things he's supposed to have felt when he was younger. He's allowed to let budding affection and lust and friendship all wrap up in one person.

"So, the piercings," Dan murmurs, letting his hand slide up Phil's shirt to toy with one of them.

"What about them?" Phil asks. He already sounds impatient and needy, like he had last night, and the sound of it goes straight to Dan's dick.

Dan laughs and sits up, helping Phil get his shirt off over his head. "I mean, do they do things for you? Do they feel good when I touch them? How do you want me to touch them to make them feel good?"

"Do you always ask this many questions during sex?" Phil asks, dry.

There's no point in lying. "Yeah, I tend to babble." Dan gives him a winning smile and taps at Phil's hips, a silent request for him to lift up. Phil does happily, arching up for Dan and letting his stolen sweats get tugged off. "Guess you'll have to shut me up somehow."

Phil laughs, muffling the sound of it with his palm, and shakes his head. He looks so fucking gorgeous like this, giggly and naked and starting to get hard against his thigh. Dan has no idea how he got this lucky.

"That's such a terrible line," Phil informs him, grinning wide. He doesn't seem bothered by Dan being dressed when he isn't. He just settles back against the cushions and wiggles a bit, either trying to get comfortable or just teasing Dan. Either is possible at this point.

"It's not a line," Dan protests, shrugging his jacket off and settling back between Phil's legs. He presses his mouth to Phil's soft tummy and, unable to help himself, blows a raspberry.

Phil kicks out at him, instinctive, and his tongue is trapped between his teeth as he tries to hold back giggles.

"My nipples aren't sensitive," Phil tells him, voice wavering with some combination of amusement and arousal. He drops a hand to wrap around his own cock, thumbing at the metal on the tip of it. "This is. It, like, tugs. It's nice."

Biting back a groan at the sight, Dan digs around for the condom. He impatiently knocks Phil's hand out of the way to get him hard enough that he can roll it on. The piercing just above his balls settles nicely at the bottom of the latex, almost like it's holding it in place. Dan rolls it between his fingers, watches Phil's eyes flutter closed. "And this one?"

"Not as much. Still good, though." Phil's tongue darts out to lick his lips, and Dan grins at the unconscious reminder of what he's meant to be doing.

It's not the most comfortable for them to be laid out on the sofa like this, lanky as they are, but Dan isn't nineteen anymore. His knees do not hold up the way they used to. He wraps his hand around the base of Phil's cock and lets the tips of his fingers idly play with the metal bar as he finally gets his mouth on Phil.

Dan isn't used to the taste of latex accompanying a blowjob, but it isn't unpleasant. He gives Phil a couple of long licks and then sucks lightly at the head, not sure how much pressure Phil likes yet.

That's something he thinks he'd love to learn. He wants to know everything about Phil's body, wants to make him tremble with it.

Dan is extremely offended when he glances up and sees that Phil is tapping something on his phone, but the offense settles when Phil huffs a laugh and says, "Put in for takeaway. All yours, now."

The phone gets put down and Dan tongues at the bump of Phil's Prince Albert ring through the condom. That makes Phil's breath hitch, his hips jerk just a bit.

It's been years since Dan has had a cock in his mouth, but he likes to think it's like riding a bike. He takes Phil deep, hollows out his cheeks, repeats any motion that makes Phil let out soft groans. He forgot how much he likes this, fuck.

Much like everything else, it's somehow impossibly better with Phil.

Phil keeps a hand in Dan's hair and braces the other on the back of the sofa, breathing hard, and Dan doesn't want to close his eyes and miss a fucking moment of this.

"Fuck," Phil breathes, and Dan responds with an answering moan around his dick. "Yeah, alright, that's - fuck, Dan, you feel so good, look so pretty like that."

The praise still makes Dan shudder. He sucks Phil harder, feeling the weight of Phil's cock on his tongue as he speeds up his movements.

Dan remembers blowjobs to be pretty fast. He also never gave one to a man older than twenty, though, and his jaw starts to ache once he realises that Phil isn't going to be pushed over the edge as quickly as he's used to.

He pulls off to give his jaw a break, stroking Phil and pressing his open mouth along the side of him.

"You think I feel nice?" Dan laughs, pleased by the way the gust of air makes Phil's cock twitch. "Fucking, forgot how good this feels."

"Yeah?" Phil prompts, his voice deep and breathy and so, so nice to listen to. No wonder he's so successful on the radio. "You like sucking cock?"

Dan shivers. "Yeah," he says. He's unashamed, because he feels safe here with Phil. He can admit to liking a cock in his mouth, a hand in his hair, being called pretty. "Yours specifically, though."

Phil laughs. "That's good. I like specifically your cock, too." He looks over at his kitchen for a moment and raises his eyebrows. "I'll get dressed and answer the door when the pizza gets here if you can make me come in the next five minutes."

Well. Never let it be said that Dan Howell backs down from a challenge.

#phanfic #phan #phanfiction #dnp fic #words words words #can't breathe when you touch my sleeve

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calangkoh · 5 years

Note

Why do you consistently feel the need to affirm that 03 is better than 09? Is there still brotherhood superiority going on? I mean, come on, it's 2019, people like what they like.

thank you for your ask! it’s actually something i’d like to address.

im not affirming one is better than the other. i think they’re equal and i like to point out that 03 is just as amazing, because yes, there is still a fmab superiority. unfortunately the things i love about 03, fmab tends to lack which means ill compare how they approach the things i care about. in my last few posts i dont believe i affirmed anywhere that one is better, in fact i specifically said that just because one does one thing one way, doesnt mean its better. it’s just different, and people will have preferences.

this blog’s purpose is 2003 appreciation with some general fma stuff thrown in, so yeah im gonna be affirming that 03 is a good show a lot. i think fmab gets all the (well-deserved) appreciation elsewhere so i dont need to spend time praising it.

i just state my opinions, as well, which might be negative and those are just my opinions im voicing. like ive said many times, i just dont like most of the characterizations in fmab, but everything else i love. i just dont devote attention to the fmab things i love because it gets praised all the time. so there’s definitely a skew.

im a biased human what can i say? i LOVE fma 2003, which often gets forgotten or unecessarily shit on, and i thought fmab was just pretty great but not a lot that *(edited from saying “nothing” because yes there were quite a few aspects that stuck with me to this day) personally spoke to me. theres a lot of subjectivity going on there. and i don’t always filter myself properly when presenting these opinions and that’s just my fault.

you’re absolutely right and people need to let people like what they like. which is why im not seeking out fmab fans and starting fights. im not making posts on why it sucks. i made my space to rant about how much i love fma 03, which inherently includes comparison to its counterpart since they’re both fullmetal alchemist, and so their differences are interesting to analyze, and since i obviously favor one over the other, there will be bias. just like in those videos i linked: there is a clear bias from the youtuber who spends significantly more time discussing 03′s strengths than fmab’s (but he also points out weaknesses of 03 that i agree with but choose not to dwell on.)

i can make a post discussing everything wrong with 03, and everything perfect about fmab, but that’s not what i want to do because it’s been said over and over before, and why would i do that when i can’t deny i strongly prefer 03?

tldr: they are equal and opposite shows and i don’t think either is better, just that they are different, but i have a clear preference for one over the other and i like to talk about why simply because i enjoy ranting about media i like and analyzing why i feel a certain way, and i made a space for me to do that. i don’t mean any harm and i understand if someone wants to block me, but i promise im not trying to cause stress to anyone. i totally understand how frustrating it is to see criticism of something you like, regardless of the criticisms’ validity (im a steven universe fan and i cant stand the su critical subculture, for example. im well aware of the flaws of the show, but really? a whole subculture for shitting on something people love?)

and people have pointed out when i step out of line and am overly harsh or just plain wrong due to my bias, and i appreciate that.

17 notes · View notes

inyournightmares97 · 5 years

Text

My Youth (Chapter 6)

Broken and miserable, Park Jinyoung returns to his hometown to learn that no matter how hard he falls, there are still people who think he’s a hero.

Warnings: Mentions of suicide/depression, death, angst, slow build, maybe some language.(Please don’t ask when I’ll update. Wait until the series is finished to read if you’re impatient.)

Word Count: 5.7k+

(Can’t put links to the other parts here, please check my Masterlist/the reblog for the Prologue and Chapters 1, 2, 3, 4 and 5)

“-Mom, I’m busy,” Jinyoung muttered into the phone. He had been sitting in a crucial meeting with the Finance Director of GOT Tech and representatives of the Financial Regulatory Board. Receiving approval for his company to go public was one of the most critical and risky steps in Jinyoung’s career.

His mother, however, had been calling him constantly for the last twenty minutes.

Mrs. Park sounded upset. “I’m sorry, Jinyoung, dear. I just needed to reach you-”

“Mom, I’m in an extremely important meeting right now. Do you know how it looks when the Managing Director of GOT Group keeps getting calls from his mother during business meetings? What do you want from me?” Jinyoung demanded in a frustrated whisper, running his fingers through his hair. He tried not to let his agitation show on his face; the other high-profile attendees of the meeting could still see him through the glass wall of the conference room.

“Jinyoung, there’s been a terrible tragedy in town,” his mother began nervously. “I don’t… I don’t know how to tell you this, but i suppose there’s no easy way to talk about a death. Remember I told you that I’ve been going to the hospital every day to meet-”

Jinyoung felt a burst of irritation. The clock was ticking. The Board members were waiting for him impatiently and he could see the disapproval on their faces. “Mom, did you call me to tell me that someone died?”

“Well… yes, but-”

“Mom, I have been preparing for this presentation for months. The future of my company depends on this meeting. This is absolutely the worst time you could have chosen to tell me something like this,” Jinyoung muttered through gritted teeth. He took a deep breath and tried to calm himself. “Please don’t mess up my focus right now. We can talk about this later. Do you need anything from me urgently?”

Mrs. Park hesitated. “You always seem to be busy these days. I just thought… if we could maybe help out with the funeral expenses or the hospital bills…”

Jinyoung closed his eyes. “Mom, you can just call my secretary for that. She’ll send you whatever amount you need. Send them flowers from me or something, okay? I have to go now.”

“Take care, Jinyoung, dear-”

“Bye, Mom.”

Jinyoung hung up and sighed, pressing his fingers to his temple. His personal secretary had followed him out of the room and was watching him nervously. He hadn’t even asked his mother who it was that had passed away. Was it somebody he knew? Maybe it was best that he didn’t think about it too much for now.

“Take my Mom’s call and ask her who died, send them money for the funeral and all those formalities,” Jinyoung told his secretary shortly. She nodded and made a note of it on her phone quickly while Jinyoung cleared his mind.

Focus. The presentation. The numbers.

Jinyoung took a deep, calming breath and plastered a rehearsed smile on his face before he turned to enter the conference room once more.

“I’m so sorry to keep you gentlemen waiting,” Jinyoung greeted all the well-dressed men with a bright smile. “I hope you can forgive me. Mothers seem to have a knack for calling at the most inconvenient times, don’t they?”

The men chuckled politely. “That’s perfectly fine, Mr. Park.”

“May I begin the presentation?”

“Please, do.”

--------

Jinyoung believed that to achieve something great, you needed to make certain sacrifices.

He had always known that the path he was embarking upon was not an easy one. Establishing your own business meant that you didn't get off work at 5 pm sharp, you couldn’t spend your weekends at a countryside cabin or getting drinks with your friends. You needed to keep working until things got done. You needed to compete in the market. You needed to be strong enough to pick up after your losses and clever enough to make friends in the right places. People were depending on you.

Jinyoung hadn’t merely chosen a career, he had chosen a life.

A very lonely life.

Whenever his mother would call him and try to have a casual chat, Jinyoung would find himself irritated. Who cared whether Mrs. Lee from the grocery store was giving a discount on strawberry bread? What did it matter if Mr. Cha had been trying to sell his little farmland? There was important work to be done. Jinyoung needed to talk to the advertising agents to make sure his products were being launched properly, he needed to negotiate discounts with suppliers to ensure he could meet the planned pricing goals. There were employees relying on him. There were investors who had trusted him with their money. There were quarterly goals that had to be met.

Every second of Jinyoung’s time was precious. Why couldn’t everyone understand that? Why couldn’t his mother stop thinking that her tiny little world in this tiny little town was everything, and understand the importance of what her son was doing?

There are a limited number of hours every man has at his disposal. We each make a conscious choice regarding how to spend each one.

It was only now, standing in front of your mother’s grave, that Jinyoung came a terrifying realization.

He had made the wrong choices.

------

“It was heart failure,” Mrs. Park whispered.

Jinyoung’s hands clutched the cup of tea firmly. It was hot and uncomfortable, but not more than the sick feeling in his stomach. Every word his mother spoke made him feel more pathetic.

What had he been doing all those months while your mother was in hospital and when she’d died? Preparing for his company to go public? Sitting in meetings and sucking up to corporate officials? Only to be fired and thrown out of the company. Only to have missed the death of somebody who had trusted him and cared for him.

“But she couldn’t have been that old…” Jinyoung muttered.

Mrs. Park shook her head softly. “She’d always had a weak heart, Jinyoung. Her health was fragile and after her husband passed away she had no choice but to work to support her daughter. All those long hours and late nights for years… they took their toll in the end. She had her first stroke three years ago. She was in hospital for a few weeks and then she had the second one; the one that took her life.”

Jinyoung closed his eyes, remembering your mother in his mind’s eye.

“She always looked tired. And worried.”

“She was.” Mrs. Park reached out and placed a hand over her son’s nervously. “I’m sorry, Jinyoung. I should have told you about it sooner. But you were always so busy in Seoul, always doing important things. It never seemed like the right time to tell you about something so devastating. It’s my fault.”

Jinyoung let out a small scoff. “Don’t take the blame on yourself. That doesn’t help me.”

Mrs. Park looked upset. “Jinyoung-”

She was interrupted by a loud knocking at the front door. Jinyoung closed his eyes and pressed his fingers to his temple while he listened to his father go to the door and yell at the person on the other side. The reporters had already found his home address. They had started arriving one-by-one since this morning. Each of them desperately wanted an interview with Park Jinyoung, the man who had lost his empire overnight. They wanted to know what he had to say about his dismissal from his own company.

Mr. Park re-entered the living room and sighed. “They’re getting more persistent. I think I should call the local police before they start trying to shove their way into our house.”

Jinyoung nodded and stood up. “I’ll go down to the police station myself and ask them to send someone to deal with this harrassment. Mom, you’ve told everyone we know to deny any reporters who request them for an interview, right?”

“Yes, but is it really a good idea for you to be going outside now-”

“I think I’ll lose my mind if I stay indoors,” Jinyoung muttered. He grabbed the black hoodie that was slung over the back of the sofa and glanced at his parents. They were both looking at him with wide, worried eyes.

Jinyoung felt a sudden wave of guilt wash over him; why should they have to deal with so much because of his mistakes? Why was he always the one taking and yet never giving?

“I’m sorry,” he apologized softly. “I’ll try and be back for dinner.”

------

Jinyoung’s legs carried him naturally towards the elementary school.

Perhaps it was a subconscious urge to see you, even though he had no idea what he would say if you really appeared before him. Anything Jinyoung could have said to help should have been said three years ago. Words like I’m sorry seemed like an insensitive joke at this point; too little and far too late.

Jinyoung sat silently on the bench by the schoolyard with his face covered by his dark hoodie, and wondered how his life had brought him to this point.

Left with nothing with shame.

“Ahjussi!”

By the time Jinyoung looked up, there was already a tiny figure running straight towards him at full speed. He flinched and braced himself for the impact; only to have the small boy stop centimetres away from him and throw his arms around him happily. Jinyoung stiffened.

“What-”

“Ahjussi, you are Park Jinyoung!” Ki-woo cried delightedly. The boy was beaming. Jinyoung noticed for the first time that one of his front teeth was missing, but it was still one of the brightest smiles he had ever seen. “Miss told me yesterday! Why did you lie and say you weren't? I can’t believe the King of the Playground walked me home after school and I didn’t even know!”

Jinyoung couldn’t resist a small smile. The sight of the little boy bouncing on his feet warmed him for a moment and he patted Ki-woo on the head. “If somebody asked Clark Kent if he was Superman, he wouldn’t say yes, now would he?”

Ki-woo’s eyes widened in understanding. “Wow. That’s so true! You’re so cool!”

“You’ll have to keep my secret.”

“Of course I will! Ahjussi, can you tell me how you did it? How did you manage to climb the oak tree?” Ki-woo demanded, grabbing Jinyoung’s arm and tugging on it eagerly. “You have to tell me, you just have to! Were you really tall?”

Jinyoung blinked. “Tall? Not particularly…”

“Then how? How did you do it?”

Jinyoung opened his mouth to respond but he was cut off by a loud yell. He had been so preoccupied with Ki-woo that he hadn’t noticed the much larger man that was making his way across the school yard. Jackson Wang had a huge smile on his face and without greeting, he threw his arms around Jinyoung in a fierce hug.

“Park Jinyoung! Look who finally decided to grace us with his presence!” Jackson cried happily. He pulled back and noticed the blank look on Jinyoung’s face. With a frown, he pointed to himself eagerly. “Remember me? Jackson! Jackson Wang! You used to pass me all the answers in History class!”

Jinyoung swallowed. “Uh…”

“Mr. Wang, you’re friends with Park Jinyoung?” Ki-woo asked, his mouth gaping open.

Jackson blinked and looked down at the boy sheepishly. “Ah, Ki-woo. I didn’t see you down there. Didn’t your teacher tell you to wait inside until someone came to pick you up? Go back indoors now.”

Ki-woo pouted. “But-”

“Nope. Back inside. Now.”

Jackson waited until Ki-woo began to slouch back towards the school building and then turned back to Jinyoung. “Man, you’re pretty much the celebrity around these parts now, eh? We had a couple of reporters come by the school this morning, asking for anyone who used to know you. You have nothing to worry about! I scared them off. These babies aren’t here for nothing,” Jackson beamed and flexed his bare bicep.

Jinyoung didn’t really know how to respond. “Nice.”

Jackson narrowed his eyes. “You do remember me, right?”

“Yeah, yeah, of course-”

“We should get drinks sometime and catch up now that you’re back in town! Man, I really owe you. You did me a solid one that Christmas before you left, remember? I’ll buy you a couple of beers at the pub. What’s your phone number?” Jackson demanded.

“I don’t really have a phone right now…”

“Don’t have a phone?” Jackson looked confused. “Weird but okay. I guess I can always ask Miss First Grade to get in touch with you. I can’t believe she didn’t tell me you were back in town!” he cried, slapping Jinyoung’s arm playfully. “Hold on… you’re here to see her, aren’t you?”

Jinyoung cleared his throat. “Not exactly…”

Jackson chuckled knowingly. “No worries, man. I’ve got your back. I need to go inside and take care of the kids now, so I’ll tell her to come out and meet you here, yeah? Let me know if any more of those reporters come around. I’ll take handle them for you!”

Jinyoung forced a smile. “Thanks-”

“No problem, man. It’s what friends are for. We’ll catch up soon!”

“Sure.”

Jinyoung watched Jackson half-run back to the school building, letting out a sigh of relief. Each person he came across in this town seemed to remember something about him and the one who possessed the most dangerous knowledge was Jackson Wang. In addition to having been the resident supplier of inappropriate magazines and the one who’d convinced Jinyoung to try his first cigarette behind the park back in high school, Jackson simply knew a little too much about everybody.

Jinyoung sat down on the bench and took a deep breath. He just realized that Jackson had said he would send you out to meet him. Why hadn’t he told him not to? He wasn’t prepared to face you. Idiot.

It was a few minutes before you emerged from the school building and walked towards Jinyoung. There was a pleasant smile on your face as you approached, and it made Jinyoung’s stomach turn. How could you smile at him like that? How could you be so calm about everything?

“Jinyoung,” you greeted him, confused. “Should you be roaming around out here? There are reporters buzzing all around town.”

Jinyoung cleared his throat. “Uh. Yeah, I know. Jackson said he drove them away...��

You rolled your eyes. “That idiot Jackson Wang? He was fully prepared to seize his five minutes of fame by telling them how you used to help him cheat in History class. I had to step in and force him to deny the request for an interview,” you muttered. Jinyoung’s eyes widened and you gave him a reassuring smile. “Don’t worry. I sent a message to the principal of the middle school and the high school. Nobody’s going to give any interviews about you.”

Jinyoung felt small.

“Thanks,” he muttered.

“Did they find your house?”

“Yeah. They’ve been knocking the door all day. It’s really starting to bother Mom and Dad.”

Your expression was sympathetic. “Should I call the police?”

“Don’t worry. I was going to go down to the station myself and ask them to send someone to get rid of the reporters,” Jinyoung reassured you. He felt his heartbeat thump wildly as he looked at your gently smiling face. Should he say it? Should he talk about the elephant in the room? Even though he hadn’t prepared what to say?

“About… about last night…”

You blinked. “Yeah?”

He sighed. “About your mother. I’m sorry. I didn’t know. I know that’s no excuse, but I should have been there and-”

You cut him off with a forced smile. “Jinyoung. It’s okay. It’s not like you could have done anything for her even if you were here, you’re not a doctor. Everyone did the best they could.”

Jinyoung swallowed. “I might not have been able to help her. But… I should have been there for you.”

The smile dropped from your face. What could you say? Jinyoung’s eyes were filled with shame but it wasn’t the right time for him to be offering condolences. That time had long passed.

But you still remembered his words from last night as he’d hugged you. I don’t feel as alone when I’m here. Jinyoung had been through so much. How could you say anything to such a broken man except for it’s okay? How could you offer him anything but comfort when he had nobody but you?

How could you not be the bigger person when he was suffering?

“It’s fine, Jinyoung,” you promised him softly. “You don’t need to worry about it.”

“How can I not-”

“Seriously. Please. It’s in the past and nobody was to blame. It happened around the time your company was going public, so I can only imagine how chaotic your life and work must have been back then. I don’t resent you.”

Jinyoung looked up at you in disbelief. “How can you not?”

“I just… don’t. It’s fine.”

“Do you really mean that? Do you really mean that?” he demanded.

“I do,” you insisted firmly. You glanced at your watch and sighed. “Wow, it’s getting late. We have a PTA fundraiser at school tonight so I need to start setting up. Oh! Did you bring my bicycle by any chance?” you asked him hopefully.

Jinyoung shook his head. “Uh, no. The reporters were in front of my house so I slipped out through the back…”

“Can you drop it by the school later? I’m going to staying back pretty late because I have to wrap up after the event is over. It might even take till midnight and the buses stop running at 9 so I need a way to get home. It’s not too much trouble, is it?”

“No, that’s fine. I’ll drop it off here later.”

You gave him a small smile as you turned to go back indoors. “Bye, Jinyoung.”

“Bye.”

---------------------------

The PTA fundraiser left you drained of energy.

You would much rather have dealt with a hundred kids at once than with a handful of parents. At least kids could be made to see reason, they could be convinced with a little bit of logic (however flawed). Adults, on the other hand, believed that they knew best and that things had to be done exactly the way they wanted. Adults were unreasonable. Adults liked to throw around their authority.

You had never wanted to get into bed so badly.

You stayed back late to clean up after the fundraiser was over. It wasn’t required of you, but it was something that you somehow ended up volunteering to do. All the other teachers had families to go home to and kids to take care of. You only had an empty apartment.

Asking them to stay back instead of you felt selfish.

You slung your bag over your shoulder and trudged out into the parking lot to see that the bicycle racks were empty. Shit. Had Jinyoung forgotten to leave the bicycle behind for you? Where was he?

You pulled out your cell phone and then sighed. Damn Park Jinyoung. He didn’t even have a stupid phone. It was far past the time that Mr. and Mrs. Park would have gone to bed and you didn't want to wake them by calling them. But your apartment was too far to walk and you would have to pass by the pub; you had no interest in meeting the town’s drunkards alone in those narrow alleys at midnight.

You sighed and dialled another number.

“Jackson, hey. I’m so sorry, I know you just left a little while ago, but…”

-------------------

It was 1am when you heard a loud banging on your front door.

You had just finished taking a shower and were getting ready to slip into bed when the noise began. Your heartbeat racing, you grabbed hold of a kitchen knife quickly and then slowly approached your door.

“Who’s there?” you yelled out, voice shaking.

The voice that replied was muffled. “Jinyoung!”

Jinyoung? At this time of night?

You opened the door carefully. The first thing that hit you was the awful smell; Jinyoung stank of sweat and cheap beer. His eyes were red and his face flushed as he looked at you almost wildly.

“Are you okay?” he demanded, grabbing your shoulders to look at you properly. His hands were trembling and he seemed unaware of how loud his voice was. “Are you all right? I was looking for you everywhere!”

You raised an eyebrow at him. “Wow, you’re drunk.”

Jinyoung’s eyes widened. “I’m sorry- I’m so, so, sorry-”

“How about you come inside before you bring my neighbours running over with all of your noise?” you snapped. You had little patience for drunks, and knowing that Jinyoung had been out getting drunk instead of returning your bicycle did not please you. “Where have you been?”

Jinyoung stared at you helplessly, his arms waving around as he spoke. “I-I was just going to get one drink, I swear. But it led to another and I totally forgot about your bike and I was so scared that you might have walked home because I know that path passes by the pub and it’s not safe-”

“Relax,” you told Jinyoung as you guided him gently towards your couch. “I didn't walk. I called Jackson, he drove me home.”

“Jackson? Wang? Why? Are you guys close?” he asked, plopping down heavily on the couch.

You shrugged. “He’s a good friend.”

Jinyoung paused for a moment and then hung his head quietly.

“We used to be good friends.”

You looked down at Jinyoung properly. He was a wreck. His dark hair was a tangled mess and the light blue dress shirt he was wearing was wrinkled with a beer stain on it. There were even large sweat stains under his arms; he’d probably cycled all the way here in a panic.

And he’s one of the Most Eligible Bachelors under 40. If only the magazine had seen him like this.

“We’re still friends,” you told him lightly. “Although it wouldn’t do any harm to return my bicycle when I ask for it. Do you want a glass of water?”

Jinyoung blinked at you dazedly. “Do you have beer?”

“Absolutely not. Haven’t you had enough?”

His lower lip pouted slightly as he stared down at the floor. “I’ve been drinking all evening but I haven’t reached the point where I feel good or forget about my problems yet. In fact, I keep thinking about them even more. How about a cigarette?”

“You will not smoke in my house,” you told him with a firm glare.

To your surprise, Jinyoung suddenly smiled. It was only a gentle curve of his lips but you spotted it and frowned at him with your arms folded across your chest. “Are you feeling proud of yourself right now? Do you think your behaviour is something to laugh about?” you demanded.

Jinyoung looked up at you softly. “No.”

“Then why are you-”

“Because this is the first time you’ve given me that look since I came back,” Jinyoung admitted quietly. His voice trembled. “This is the first time you got angry at me. You don’t seem to get angry at me anymore.”

You didn’t understand. “Why would you want me to be angry at you-”

“Because you have to be angry with someone before you can forgive them. You have to first admit that they hurt you or that they did something wrong, and only then can you begin to repair your relationship,” Jinyoung whispered. He looked up at you and you could see the tears brimming in his eyes. “So tell me honestly. Have you forgiven me already?”

You swallowed. “I was never mad at you to begin with-”

“You’re lying.”

You clenched your fists as your heartbeat thudded. “I’m not lying. You’re drunk. You should drink some water and you can sleep on the couch-”

Jinyoung looked up at you, his eyes bloodshot yet surprisingly clear. “You are lying. Either you’re lying or you’re not the same girl I remember.”

“Why would you say that?”

“Because the girl I knew wouldn’t have pretended to forgive a friend to spare his feelings. She would have grabbed me by the shirt, looked me in the eye, and said Park Jinyoung, you’re an absolute bastard for leaving me here when I was having a hard time. She wouldn’t have spared my feelings. She would have expected me to be there for her because that’s what friends do. They count on each other.”

You closed your eyes. How had Jinyoung seen right through you? Even after 10 years, how could he see through you like you were made of glass?

“I’m not angry,” you tried to tell him slowly, even though you weren’t sure who you were convincing anymore. “Because I never expected you to be there. You were busy and I had no expectations-”

Jinyoung scoffed. “You’re lying again.”

“I’m not-”

“You are. Friendship is when you help someone, because you trust that they would do the same for you. What you’re doing for me isn’t friendship. You don’t trust me anymore. If you have no expectations from me, then that’s charity!” Jinyoung spat out. Tears were brimming in his eyes and his voice was choked. “Is that what I am to you? Charity?”

You clenched your fists and let out a small, humourless laugh. “I can’t believe I’m hearing this.”

“What?”

“Where the fuck do you get off accusing me of treating you like charity? After what you did?” you snapped.

Jinyoung stared at you blankly. “Tell me.”

Your throat closed up. You didn’t want to talk about it. You didn’t want to drag yourself back to what had been the lowest point of your life, especially not in front of Jinyoung. You didn’t know who he was to you anymore. How could you open up to him?

“I can’t,” you muttered. “I don’t want to talk about it, Jinyoung.”

“Please,” Jinyoung whispered. “Please. At least tell me I was a terrible friend for not being there. Tell me I was a terrible friend for not even knowing about your mother.”

You took a deep breath and sat down, your knees feeling weak. You had never imagined that you would have to sit next to Jinyoung and say these words to him while he was drunk. Yet, as his dark eyes pierced into yours, he looked more sober than ever.

“It was my fault she died,” you whispered, shakily. “I know how hard my Mom worked to raise me. I know how much she struggled after my Dad passed away. The doctor told me her heart attack was probably caused by stress- years of it. She was growing old but she’d never even gone for a health check-up because we couldn’t afford it.”

Jinyoung stared at you silently.

“I needed someone to say this to back then,” you admitted quietly. “I needed someone who would listen to me and who wouldn’t try to convince me that it wasn’t my fault or that I didn't do anything wrong. That’s what everyone kept doing. They kept trying to comfort me but I just wanted someone who would listen. I wanted you,” you mumbled.

Jinyoung only nodded. His hands reached out to take both of yours. He grasped them tightly.

“I knew you were busy, but I always had this hope that maybe you would come to the funeral,” you whispered. “I thought… surely, whatever I did to make you cut me off, it wasn’t so bad that you wouldn't even turn up to my mother’s funeral. But the truth was that I couldn’t grieve properly because the hospital was hounding me about the bills, I…”

You took a deep breath. You hated thinking about those moments. You had felt so helpless and alone, backed into a corner. “I don’t think it even sank in that my mother was dead until a few days later,” you mumbled. “ I spent the first day wondering how the hell I was going to pay the hospital bills instead of thinking about her. Your mother tried comforting me, she told me it would all be fine and that she would call you for help.”

Jinyoung closed his eyes; tears were clinging to his eyelashes.

“She did,” he mumbled.

You felt the walls around you come crashing down as you looked at the broken man in front of you. You remembered how badly you’d wanted to see him then, how much you’d craved his comfort. You remembered how furious you had been when you realized that Jinyoung had abandoned you.

“I thought you would call,” you mumbled. “I didn’t want to disturb you but at the same time I trusted that you wouldn’t leave me alone at a time like that.”

Jinyoung’s voice was soft. “I’m sorry.”

“It would have been better if you hadn't done anything at all,” you mumbled. “Maybe then I could have forgotten about it in the mess that I was going through. But you didn’t. I got a call from your secretary the night before the funeral.”

Jinyoung lowered his head. His hands were trembling even as they held yours and you could hear his soft sniffle. “Shit,” he muttered, his voice thick with tears. “Shit, I can’t believe-”

“I thought you’d finally called. But it wasn’t you. I had to hear some strange woman tell me over the phone that Park Jinyoung is sorry he can’t make it to the funeral but he sends his condolences,” you choked out. You smiled humorlessly. “As if I was some distance acquaintance you barely knew. You sent me your condolences through your secretary.”

“I didn’t- I didn’t know it was you…”

“And then she told me that if I would just email her a copy of the hospital and funeral bills then all the expenses would be taken care of,” you mumbled. “She said that she could send me as much as I needed, no limit. I was so embarrassed. I wanted-I wanted to tell her that you could go fuck yourself and that I didn’t want your condolences and your money. I wanted to refuse so badly, but…”

You hung your head in shame. “But I couldn’t,” you whispered. “I couldn’t say that to her because it was true. I had no other way of paying those bills. So I sent her the details and I let you pay for them. Whether you know it or not, you paid for all my mother’s hospital bills and funeral while I sat here and wondered how I had become such a worthless daughter.”

Jinyoung’s hands clasped yours so tightly that it hurt. His shoulders were shaking and you could see the sobs racking his chest. “I didn’t mean to-” he sobbed. Jinyoung’s tears landed on your clasped hands. “I didn’t mean to, I swear…”

You slowly removed your hands from his. “I have the accounts,” you muttered. “I’ve been saving up to pay you back. It might take me a few more years but-”

Jinyoung flinched. “Don’t say that.”

“It’s not open to discussion, Jinyoung.”

“Don’t say you’ll pay me back, please-”

“I will pay you back,” you said firmly. You took a deep breath. “You know why? Because I might be able to forgive you for not being there when I needed you. But I will never, never forget how cheap I felt the moment I ended that phone call. So don’t talk to me about charity; I know how it feels to be on the other end of it.”

Jinyoung closed his eyes. He felt light-headed and blank as he thought about everything you’d said. No wonder you didn’t consider him a friend. No wonder you couldn't bring yourself to be honest with him. No wonder there was something fake and forced about your every smile.

Jinyoung hadn’t just messed up.

He had destroyed something precious to him without even realizing it.

“It’s late,” you mumbled after a brief silence. “You should go to sleep. Here, just; make yourself comfortable on the couch and I’ll get you a blanket and some pillows.”

Jinyoung swallowed. “I-I can’t…”

“You’re not going anywhere at this time of night while you’re drunk,” you told him. You pushed him lightly so that he leaned back against the sofa. “Stay put. I’ll be back. I think we’ve talked enough for tonight.”

“Can you just promise me one thing?” Jinyoung asked quietly.

“What’s that?”

“Even if you don’t consider me your friend anymore, even if you’re just being nice to me because you’re that kind of a caring person… don’t give up on me completely.” Jinyoung looked up at you desperately. “Please. Tell me that I can fix things. Tell me I haven’t broken our friendship and my life beyond repair.”

You looked down at him. Lying on your couch in his crumpled dress shirt and the beer stains, Jinyoung looked pathetic. Perhaps it was because you’d finally let out all the resentment you’d been bottling up for so long. Perhaps it was because, looking into Jinyoung’s eyes now, you could see that he did care. But you suddenly didn’t feel so hollow anymore.

You didn’t feel so lonely in your pain.

“Everything can be fixed, Jinyoung,” you told him softly.

“Even us?” he mumbled.

You nodded. “Even us.”

“Even me?”

“Especially you.”

Jinyoung slowly closed his eyes and you went into the other room to get him a spare pillow and a blanket. He let you place the pillow under his head and snuggled into the soft blanket. You turned to switch off the light when you heard him mumble.

“You know something?”

“What, Jinyoung?”

“I thought that the most unbearable thing about being fired from the company was all the effort I’d put into it. I thought I couldn’t bear it because I’d done so much for it for the years,” he said slowly.

You blinked at his curled up figure under the blanket.

“But it’s not?” you asked.

Jinyoung shook his head. “It’s not how much I’ve done for the company that I can’t bear. It’s how much I sacrificed for it.”

-------------------

#got7 #got7 scenarios #got7 scenario #got7 angst #park jinyoung #got7 jinyoung #jinyoung angst #jinyoung scenario #got7 imagines #got7 drabbles #got7 series #got7 fanfiction #jinyoung fanfic #jinyoung my youth

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mittensmorgul · 5 years

Note

I'm sorry, I didn't mean for my ask to upset you.You're a terrific writer & I love your meta! For awhile, I've been having a hard time reconciling the show's original "humanity" theme with what's happening now. Jack's almost invincible & has God-like powers. He singlehandedly took care of Michael, Nick, Lucifer & is teaming up with 2 other supernatural heavy hitters. I like Jack but TFW's my jam. So I hope you're right that they'll still be important, even if they're not special with superpowers

It’s okay, I’m fine, really :D

I guess I’m just confused as to how the humanity themes aren’t still being well represented, considering 14.20. I mean... Dean, a human, literally snatched the guitar out of God’s hands and smashed it. He stood there, thinking there was literally no other choice but to kill both Jack and himself to save the world. After he spent more than half of s13 thinking HE needed to die or be locked in that box to contain Michael and save the world. But in the end, he literally stood up to God and said NO. No he would not destroy himself and Jack for Chuck.

(and then Chuck went ahead and killed Jack anyway)

Dean, a Human, has spent the entire season telling cosmic beings to shove it-- Michael, Billie (re: him getting in the Ma’lak box), Chuck himself. While Jack was human for a while and then finally bonded with Dean and became family to him.

But as I’ve been writing for a really, really long time, the A Plot, the defeating of the seasonal big bads, has long ceased to be the point of the show. I’ve written several things in the last few weeks about how it’s undeniably clear now that Dabb has been writing toward this endgame since he took over back in s11, and has been exploiting the show’s own spiral narrative to do it.

https://mittensmorgul.tumblr.com/post/184788264850/i-will-always-maintain-that-dabbs-finales-titles

here’s a post linked in the one above that I wrote right after 12.23 aired, pointing out the fact that watching this as if it was a plot-driven narrative would lead to frustration and like... missing the whole entire point...:

https://mittensmorgul.tumblr.com/post/160988290690/12-while-i-do-not-ask-this-to-be-negative-at

I mean, I’m sitting here watching 13.01 right now, which from the perspective of post 14.20 looks like a freaking bookend... in pretty much every way. Dean’s prayer to Chuck which goes unanswered (which feels like the complete opposite sentiment toward Chuck that Michael will express, the opposite of what Lucifer expressed), Sam begins to teach Jack how to Human, but also to help him understand his own powers.

All of this was supposed to stop after 11.23, after Dean found a peaceful reconciliation for the original divide of the universe. Chuck promised the world would be okay without him, but it wasn’t. The hits kept coming, and in 14.20, we learned WHY:

Chuck: Listen, you guys know me. I'm hands-off. I built the sandbox -- you play in it. You want to fight Leviathans? Cool. You got that. You want to go up against -- what was it? -- the "British Men of Letters"? Okay. Little weak, but okay. But when things get really bad, like the Apocalypse or the Other Apocalypse, that's when I have to step in.

This was still Chuck, watching his favorite show, watching his guys reenact his favorite story over and over again. We’ve complained for literal years about Lucifer being a one-note, boring Big Bad, because he was. Intentionally. People were disappointed in the whole Michael storyline, because it was never really made clear what his motivations were, or what his plans were outside of the completely nihilistic desire to break everything Chuck ever built. He sounded just like another tired rehash of Lucifer’s storyline since s12:

https://mittensmorgul.tumblr.com/post/184740345285/im-watching-1207-on-the-tnt-loop-and-yeah

and see this for Dabb As Death, his chosen in-story avatar, the way Kripke was Chuck and Carver was Metatron:

https://mittensmorgul.tumblr.com/post/184557290140/death-is-one-of-my-favorite-characters-in-the

Dabb literally introduced Billie in 11.02, singing O Death. He killed her in 12.09 and then leveled her up to the mantle of Death. That’s Dabb’s function in the writer’s room... started out as just another writer, stuck around paying very close attention to the characters, through every other showrunner’s tenure, and finally leveled up himself to showrunner where he is calling the shots, and will be the one to finally end the show. Well he’s already ended the long spiral of Chuck (Kripke’s) original story. Considering how long the loop has been looping, there was really only one way to stop it: narrative syzygy and the sudden dropping of the curtain in such a way that TFW can finally see the Big Narrative Spiral for what it is. For the complete Cosmic Runaround they’ve been put through over and over again for Chuck’s entertainment.

Big Bads from the Leviathan to the BMoL to Lucifer to Michael to Asmodeus to even Crowley sometimes, to the alternate universe’s apocalypse have all been rendered secondary to what the actual point was-- the gradual character growth for Sam, Dean, and Cas.

Sam, Dean, and Cas are the characters we care about. They’re the reason we continue watching this show even after 14 years. I wrote a post the other day about this:

https://mittensmorgul.tumblr.com/post/184829064145/why-is-every-piece-of-media-now-about-surprise

and here:

https://mittensmorgul.tumblr.com/post/184459635020/you-know-what-i-love-dabbs-vision-for-spn-he

and quoting myself from that second post: “Viewers don’t identify with apocalypses, we identify with the characters who survive them, who save the world from them, you know?”

But see, I think looking at the show as “must defeat the big bad, this is what’s important” is literally missing the entire point of watching. THAT is what Dabb wanted us to take away here.

First off, it was Dean who killed Lucifer, by finally saying yes to a version of Michael, but then Dean lost to Michael internally. He eventually DID defeat Michael inside his own mind in 14.10-- with the help of Sam and Cas. I mean... TFW victory, right? And then he spent several episodes struggling to keep Michael contained.

And all of it, in the end, when the three of them stood there facing God, was pointless. Pointless in the plot-narrative of defeating an endless string of Big Bads. Discovering that no matter how well they succeeded, no matter how many people they saved, Chuck would just throw another wrench into their lives and start the story again. Every time they thought they were finally winning, finally allowed themselves to think about their lives reaching a sort of stasis where they went out on occasional hunts and handled them easily, and even considered the “toes in the sand” sort of break from hunting where the world wasn’t constantly trying to end itself... Chuck would just toss another Cosmic Catastrophe at them.

And Jack... was one of those Cosmic Catastrophes.

(which is why no matter how much he’s become family, no matter how important he is to all of them, no matter how much they’ve all grown by their relationship with Jack, he’s still in a different narrative category than our Three Heroes)

I don’t know what Jack’s fate will be at the end of the road, but what I do know is that for the rest of TFW-- for Sam, Dean, and Cas-- s15 will absolutely be about their very human wants and needs, and their final release from Chuck’s eternal cosmic spiral. 14.20 was about their individual awakenings to this fact of the universe, this fact of their entire lives having been engineered entirely for the original creator’s entertainment. Only now can they truly fight for THEMSELVES, instead of fighting to stop an apocalypse and save the world. For the first time EVER, they are fighting for their OWN humanity.

I really really hope this makes sense. There’s only so much yelling I can do about this. :P

#spn 14.20 #spn s15 speculation #that's what free will is #dabb vs cars #this is literally the story on every single possible level yelling this at us #and i don't know how to make that any clearer #Anonymous

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arcane-shadow · 5 years

Photo

Pneumonia

Characters: Kaede Akamatsu, Kokichi Ouma

Warnings: N/A

AO3 Link

My Bad Things Happen Bingo

Kokichi's skin burns under her fingers. The heat is so different from Kaede's own freezing skin she nearly lets go of his wrist, but when he goes to run again she holds firm.

A frown finds its way onto Kaede's face as she notices that even though he's practically on fire she can still feel shivers running through him. She doesn't need to have shuichi's talent to see that somethings definitely wrong here.

"Nooooo! Don't murder me Kaedeeee!!"

With fake tears welling up in his eyes, he attempts to pull away from her, aiming a kick at her shin. She flinches, moving her leg out of the way just in time to avoid it.

Feeling incredibly annoyed, first at his accusation and then the kick, she pulls him closer with a sharp tug. He loses his footing and stumbles as she hisses at him."I'm not going to murder you! please stop yelling that, it's annoying and dangerous! I know you pride yourself on being a liar but don't you know the boy who cried wo--"

She gets cut off as Kokichi, who had been looking at her as though she was about as interesting as paint drying, begins to cough. They wrack his small frame and she can hear the wet, choking sound of them even as he curls into himself as well as he can with her grip on his arm.

She lets go of him, moving her other hand around to rub circles into his back as the coughing continues. All her annoyance disappears, replaced by sharp concern as Kokichi attempts to catch his breath. It's...He's definitely sick, and it has to be pretty bad too. No way would Kokichi let someone see him so vulnerable if it wasn't. It could be a lie she supposes, but with the way he's leaning on her and the glazed over look in his eyes, she doubts it.

She isn't fond of Kokichi. She hates the way he messes around when they're all in such danger like this, making light of the whole situation and spreading distrust every chance he gets but...but he's still a person stuck here and she can't just let him keep pretending he's okay and getting even sicker. First of all, it wouldn't do to let him go around spreading germs and getting them all sick and secondly, it absolutely wouldn't do if he died from being too stubborn to get help.

She sees now that this is what Monokuma wanted when he turned off all the lights and heating, made it so sweeping rains started and they couldn't move between the dorms and the school without getting soaked. If anyone got sick from that, they would be so vulnerable. She looks down at Kokichi's small, shivering form. They would be easy pickings.

She's focusing so hard on worrying she doesn't notice Kokichi's body tensing up, the coughing stopping completely. He rips himself out of her arms, and she's too shocked to stop him. She thinks he'll run, pretend this is just an extension of their previous game but he stops once he's out of reach of her arms.

As pale and sickly as she's now noticing he is, the look he's giving her is intense. He's...blank and it's so so different from his usual childish antics.

It feels dangerous.

Especially with the way he smiles at her in the next second, leering and cold. His voice is hoarse when he finally speaks.

"Aw Kaede...I didn't think a goody two shoes like you would be the sort to take advantage of people when they're weak. I guess you never really know people right? Especially when they're the kinda pervs that tries to catch a feel off a sick person."

"Wha-!" Surprise doesn't even cover the pure whiplash she's feeling in this moment.

Kaede once again finds her sympathy and concern quickly drying up when faced with a Kokichi that isn't muffled by the suffering from his illness.

"It makes me think, if you're the kind of person that would take the opportunity to feel someone up when they're...in a moment of weakness...what else would you do? Isn't that interesting, little miss leader?"

"Kokichi..." As false and awful as his accusations are, and they make her blood boil to hear, she knows he's just being cautious. She had thought it just moments before hadn't she? How vulnerable he is in this moment. She can't blame him for his wariness (although he doesn't have to be so crude about it.)

She pulls herself up to her full height, which although she isn't tall she still towers over Kokichi, juts out her chin and prepares for a fight.

"Kokichi, I'm not going to kill you and also i wasn't..." It's so hard not to get frustrated. “I wasn't trying to "catch a feel"! I was just trying to, to help! You were coughing so badly...i was just worried."

"Really…"

He's still smiling but it's become something more reserved now. Although his gaze is still as piercing and it's with stubborn pride she doesn't squirm and meets his gaze squarely.

Her next words are a risk and she's praying he won't try to resist, or at least try to run and make a fuss.

"You're...really sick Kokichi. I don't think either of us needs to pretend that you aren't. And I know you weren't planning on telling anyone and were just going to keep it to yourself but-"

"And im still going to keep it to myself Kaede! And you will too! As one of my very trustworthy friends i would think you would know better than to go around telling people, right?"

He's coming closer as he speaks, quiet and sinister, that intense cold smile on his face once again. It's ruined somewhat by the visible sweat and faint trembling in his outstretched hand. She doesn't back down even as he gets up right in her personal space.

"I'm not. I wouldn't do that, even to you." He looks up surprised, but he quickly starts to look smug and satisfied once again. Kaede doesn't think he'll be wearing that expression by the end of this conversation though. "Although, you're definitely mistaken if you think I’m just going to let you walk around getting everyone sick and making yourself worse."

He really shouldn't have let himself get so close.

Kokichi doesn't even manage a single step back before she's manhandled him into a bridal position in her arms, only getting almost kicked in the head twice and a particularly nasty smack once. Unfortunately for him though, he's sick and she's actually pretty strong. (All those hours of having to clean out the music rooms at her old school were finally useful for something.)

He stops trying to bite her head off when she's finally got him up in the air, and after she reminds him that if he struggles too much she'll probably drop him straight on his head.

He's giving her the most foul look possible, most likely plotting the best way to get her murdered without repercussions, but Kaede doesn't particularly care what Kokichi Ouma is thinking at the moment. His opinion was revoked the moment he became the most likely candidate to become the first victim of this stupid killing game.

And if Kaede gets her way, no one will ever be the victim of this killing game except the mastermind themselves. She'll make sure of it.

#my writing #danganronpa #bad things happen bingo #ouma kokichi #kaede akamatsu #drv3 #hooo just take it boys #and like ask for more it ya want

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wolfpawn · 5 years

Text

When Ghosts Come For Us

Chapter 50

NOTE This is based on the movie Crimson Peak, so if any of the subject matter in that was uncomfortable for you, you will find this similar. I will *NOT* be describing incest in this, it will only be implied, same as the movie.

As I have stated already, my laptop is broken at present so please excuse grammar mistakes and the lack of GIFs and pics.

Also, I do not own any image or gif used in this story.

HERE is the link to Chapter 1 on Ao3

Rating - Mature

“I’m fine.” “Lady Sharpe...” “Mrs Matthews, I said I am fine, please, my letters and some writing material,” Charlotte ordered before shifting slightly. “Perhaps a blanket behind my back?” Margaret immediately complied, recalling when Charlotte was on forced bedrest carrying Thomas Jr and liked to sit up in the bed. “Thank you.” It had been over two weeks since she had caught pneumonia and had been forced to fight for her life. She was grateful at least that she was so delirious with fever, she had not felt her body be forced to cease making milk. According to one of the nursemaids, that was horrid and meant burning and painful breasts. “Little graces” Charlotte had called it. She was still weak, her voice was barely more than a whisper as her throat was still recovering and she was only about to drink liquidised meals and most of which seemed to be chicken soup, but she was fine with it. She did not mind the meal and she could feel her body strengthen with every bowl.

She demanded that Thomas be brought in twice a day to her again. She knew she was too weak to even hold him, but she wanted to see him and have him see her. She was terrified that he would forget her in their time apart and that would hurt her more than any beating her parents ever inflicted on her. She had decided to write to her brother and her husband.

As Thomas suspected, as soon as she was over the fever stage, she was adamant she would defeat her illness and under no circumstance was he to engineer a situation where Mr Brown would gain from them any more than they had to bribe him with. Her first order when given a piece of paper to write with in her weakened state was to telegram Thomas and tell him to stay in Allerdale Hall and ready everything. She knew as well as Thomas that Mr Brown would see that the mines were more profitable than even they had thought it would be and with the local police station being the first of many new and local contracts they had been asked for, there was high chance that if he would not go for Charlotte’s fortune but that he would focus on the mine’s deeds and she could not allow that. That was her son’s future, his guarantee of wealth after she left this world and there was no way she would risk it. If she were to die, she would still die with or without Thomas being in Pembrokeshire.

Dearest Edward,

I miss you terribly. I know that were you here, you would have my head hurting from the lectures of what was I thinking. I can even hear your voice as you say it, that little vein in your forehead only fit to pop because of the frustration my actions have caused you. I am so sorry, big brother. I am sorry for the stress and concern I have thrust upon you. I am fine, tired, worn and more than a little cold, but fine, nonetheless.

I have done nothing but eat chicken soup these past two weeks, I fear if I eat much more, I will begin to grow feathers!

I finally seem to be able to wiggle my toes again. I was worried for a time, they seemed reluctant to even work, all I felt there was coldness, it was not pleasant. I had to be bought workmen’s socks, several pairs. I look ridiculous, I think you would find it funny also.

I love you, Edward, so very much. While I was ill, I thought of you. I dreamt that you and Joanne wed and that you had a little girl with the most beautiful auburn hair. I do not know why I saw her with that particular colour hair, you are blonde haired and Joanne is brown, but if you saw her, I wanted to cuddle her so tight, she was the most beautiful little thing. She looked a lot like you. I hope it comes to pass. It brought me joy in my sickness.

Tell Joanne I think of her too, and Mrs Davies, of course. I hope to embarrass you many times more with her come spring. I think when I return to Cumbria, I will make more time to visit her and you too, I suppose (I jest). I realise here how alone I am, even in Allerdale Hall. It is unhealthy and I will have to rectify that.

I fear I must rest now. I did not think writing would exhaust me so, yet I find myself fighting sleep now.

I love you, Edward.

Please look out for Thomas if you see him.

Charlotte.

She forced herself to stay awake long enough to write the address and seal the letter. “Margaret?” “Yes Ma’am?” her ever faithful maid was to her side a moment later.

“Keep these together. I have written to Dr Thompson of what was said of my condition, I will write to my husband when I wake.” “Of course, Ma’am. I will not have Dr Thompson’s posted until you write to Sir Thomas,” Margaret swore as she took the small tray Charlotte had been using to write on away. “Thank you. I just need a small rest.” With that, she lay her head on the pillow and closed her eyes.

Used to her routine from when she had served Charlotte on bedrest, Margaret removed the extra blanket behind Charlotte and placed it to the side, knowing it caused her back to arch too much as she slept before going and informing Mrs Matthews of such.

“What was she like in Cumbria?” Jane, the maid who shared with Margaret asked.

“She is so lovely, she always smiles and is kind. She makes sure Mrs Phillips and I bring home extra food if we’re hungry.” “Don’t you live at the house?” “No, it’s too old and parts of it are falling down. I mean, Lady Sharpe is ‘avin’ it fixed in all, but that ‘ouse is only fit to be knocked. It’s sinking into the clay.” “She really is foolish if she is wasting money doing that.” Margaret frowned. She didn’t like how people dismissed Charlotte as a silly woman with little thoughts of substance. She knew that Charlotte was well read and always seemed to know all the odd and complex things Sir Sharpe’s machines did. She didn’t seem as silly as people thought her to be. “I dunno. She seems to know some stuff.” “She went out in the rain and nearly got killed. She fed her baby herself. I don’t think she is smart enough to be left with so much money. It’s a good thing she married a businessman, according to Mrs Matthews, they are worth even more now.” Margaret said nothing. She walked into Thomas’s workshop more than once with his tea to see her employers discussing business decisions together. One time, she heard Sir Thomas state very clearly that Charlotte’s idea had made them a small fortune. Even if she was not the smartest woman, recalling her leaving the house a few days after Master Thomas was born in anger and postnatal hormones, she clearly was not without some mind. “I dunno but what I do know is, if I ever marry, I want to be like ‘er and Sir Sharpe.” “They love each other?” “It’s more than love. D’you know when people talk about soulmates, ‘ow they say they just know each other and are like dance partners, perfectly matched?” Jane nodded. “That’s them. They always seem so ‘appy to just sit with each other and read some book. I see ‘ow Sir Sharpe looks at her, like she is some sort of rare thing, y’know, som-ing not everyone sees and ‘e is like, amazed by it. He loves ‘er so much and the way she smiles at ‘im.” “Wow, I don’t think we’ll ever see that.” Jane was envious at the fairytale-like manner her employers seem to love one another.

“What, not wiv John the gardener?” Margaret jested, referencing the man of forty years of age that seemed to salute the maids as though there were any chance teenage girls would find him attractive. Both girls snorted in laughter at that.

“The only way I would marry an older man is if he was like Mr Hamilton, God rest him.” “What d’you mean?” “Well, before Lady Sharpe was Lady Sharpe, she was Lady Hamilton, did you know that?” Margaret nodded, Mrs Phillips had told her such when she went to Allerdale Hall. “Well, he was fifteen years Lady Sharpe’s senior. Apparently, as nice as they were to one another, and Mr Hamilton was fond of her, she was here to give him children and that alone, hence him choosing a young bride.”

“Oh.” “Yeah, apparently he took her from marrying some young man and paid his fees for him to become a doctor as a way of buying her off him.”

Margaret’s mind immediately went to Dr Thompson and the fact that Lady Sharpe had written him before writing to her husband. “Really?” “Yeah, that’s why I heard anyway.” Jane shrugged.

“According to Mrs Phillips, she is a cousin of that doctor.” “Why would you push for your husband to pay for some cousin to become a doctor?” “I ‘eard his father died when he was young and she wanted to ‘elp ‘im.” “No one helps like that.” “Lady Charlotte does. She went and found him a suitable courtship too, wiv a lovely girl from our town. She genuinely cares for people.” “If she cared that much, she’d pay us more.”

Margaret silenced, she could see no matter what, Jane thought little of Lady Charlotte, a woman she cared for as an employer. She always checked on her wellbeing in Allerdale Hall and her kindness to care for her wellbeing in Foxgrove also came to the fore.

Thomas looked around warily. The shadows were becoming more and more frequent, as were the cries. When Mrs Phillips left each night, he became all the more skittish. What scared him even more was that Blake seemed aware of said shadows also. Since Charlotte sent a letter to him explaining she was feeling better and that she wished for the work to end soon so that she could see him again, the art room seemed to be far warmer again and Blake seemed to cease his pining in there from the day before the telegram came, in fact, it ceased the day the telegram was dated from as the date that Charlotte had written it. Instead, Thomas noticed that Blake seemed to have taken on a new role; He was now acting as Thomas’s guardian. When Thomas thought he saw shadows or felt a presence near him in the empty house, Blake was by his side, ready to attack, growling and baring his teeth if required at the direction of the shadows. He would not be parted from Thomas now, he clearly felt it his duty to protect his master, even from the unknown.

Tags @whovianwookie86-captainxev @ilovekingt @sigridlaufeyson @lokiloveheart @lokilover9 @texmexdarling @perpetual-fangirl @wolfsmom1

#thomas sharpe #lucille sharpe #when ghosts come for us #chapter 50 #crimson peak story #crimson peak

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365daysofsasuhina · 5 years

Text

[ 365 Days of SasuHina || Day Fifty-One: Good Medicine ] [ Uchiha Sasuke, Hyūga Hinata ] [ SasuHina ] [ Verse: Healing Waters and Scorching Flames ] [ AO3 Link ]

She hasn’t had much opportunity to learn the healing side of waterbending. Though...then again, waterbending as a whole hasn’t exactly been a subject Hinata was steeped in. With the Fire Nation raids capturing and locking way the Southern waterbenders, Hinata had only her mother to teach her...and even then, not for long.

She’d not been one of the many taken prisoner. Hanako had simply been slain where she stood.

As the last left with any hint of bending in her veins, Hinata grew up without a teacher, only able to guess and feel her way through bending. Failures in her experiments meant a lack of confidence, and a yearning to someday make it to the North to find a master to learn from.

Of course, that had been before stumbling across the Avatar alongside her best friend Kiba. That single encounter changed not only her life, but the world.

Suddenly she had a way to leave the South Pole: a method of transport to the North, where she and the Avatar - Naruto - would learn under the remaining masters of waterbending.

Before they could leave, however...trouble found them. Namely the second-in-line prince Sasuke of the Fire Nation.

Their first meeting had her feeling fearful...but also realizing she couldn’t afford to be afraid. This was the Avatar...the world’s last chance for peace. If Hinata wanted to make it to the North - if she wanted Naruto to save the world - she had to put aside her reservations, and do as her mother did: stand up to the Fire Nation.

Needless to say, that first encounter - and the next several over the coming weeks - meant a great feeling of animosity between them: Hinata, and Sasuke. They both sought the same person, but for entirely different reasons.

But as time passed, and their circumstances changed...they could no longer afford to be enemies. Naruto needed to learn firebending. Sasuke had begun to see the error of his ways, thanks to careful guidance from his cousin Shisui: a secret member of the White Lotus.

So, the two groups were suddenly awkwardly pushed together as Sasuke accepted his role as Naruto’s firebending teacher.

But Hinata wasn’t having it.

After all he’d done - to them, to Naruto, to her - she couldn’t trust him. Wouldn’t! No longer was Hinata the meek, scared girl from the South Pole. By then, she’d grown into a young woman of resolve and dedication.

Of them all, it would be Hinata he’d have to convince the most.

It hadn’t been easy...but from a begrudging acceptance of their circumstances, situations arose to drive them together. Bit by bit, acceptance grew...which slowly formed into trust.

Which is why now, with Sasuke injured, Hinata tries to put her limited healing knowledge to the test.

“Just...hold still. I need to concentrate.”

Not arguing, Sasuke sits in a tense, accepting silence. Mild burns litter his left forearm, used to block an attack but partially letting it go astray. The red, puckered skin stings, but doesn’t seem too severe.

Taking clean water from a canteen, Hinata examines the wounds carefully before bringing the element up to the singed tissue. For a moment, it almost seems to burn all over again. But then the liquid glows softly, and relief instantly wilts Sasuke’s shoulders.

“...I’ve never seen waterbending healing before.”

“I’m...very loosely practiced in it. I had some lessons in the North, but...not as much as combat. I’ll do what I can, but...they might scar, and take a w-while to heal.”

“It’s fine...better than I could do.”

That earns him a brief glance before returning to her work.

“...when this is all over, I know a healer you can learn from. If you want.”

“...you do?”

“I…” Shame weighs in the base of Sasuke’s gut. “...when I, er...went to get Naruto, it wasn’t my first trip to the south. A few months before that, I’d gone to another tribe that used to be known for healing, and...took the last bender there. She’s the one serving my brother. Keeping him alive.”

Recognition alights Hinata’s face. “...I see.”

“I’ll be honest, I wasn’t...kind to her. At the time, I was still…” His tone fades to silence, not sure how to explain. “...I was so conflicted then. My brother means everything to me. I was desperate. So...I told her I was holding her village hostage. If anything happened to Itachi, I would…” Another pause, not needing to explain. “...and yet...part of me - a stupid, selfish part of me - had hoped we wouldn’t find one. A healer.”

“...but…?”

Grief and anger darken Sasuke’s face. “...the older I got...the more I realized that, if Itachi were to die...it would make me the next Fire Lord. And now, I...I can’t stand myself for ever having thought that way. But my father, his teachings...they jaded me. It’s like he wanted to pit us against each other. He knew Itachi was weak. Maybe...that’s what he wanted. But I insisted to try the South. To look for a healer.”

For a time, quiet settles over them. “...then...that’s what matters in the end. You overcame those feelings, and you got him help.”

“But I did so in a terrible way!”

“I’m not saying you’re not at fault in that regard. But...you helped your brother, when you could have...well, left him to a worse fate. Maybe someday you can atone to how you treated the other waterbender. And...I would be happy to learn from her.” Hinata glances up, managing a small smile.

“...you’ve come a long way, Sasuke. In my eyes, at least. I’ll admit...I was so wary of you at first. And...I had reason to be. But I also see how you’ve changed. I might have had my doubts, but you proved yourself. I’m sure you can do so with her when the time comes. For now, we each have our own paths. She’ll help your brother, and you’ll help the Avatar.”

Sasuke looks to her with a somber expression before glancing to his wounds. “...and you’ll help me.”

“...we’ll all help each other. Together, we’ll stop your father. The Fire Nation can then be led back into the ways of peace. The w-war will be over. And we can all...go home. Heal. And the world can regain its sense of balance.”

“The work won’t stop with the war,” Sasuke reminds her dryly. “There will be plenty left to do.”

“I know...but we’ll face it together. All of us. Naruto has changed too, you know. He’s not just a wistful child. Now...he’s matured. At least,” she laughs, “somewhat. Part of him, I think, will always be a kid. But we work together well as a team - and we’ll keep doing so after the war, until the world has a better foundation. It’s been stuck in this war for almost a hundred years! There will be a lot to get used to.”

“Hn…”

Another round of silence, and then Hinata checks her work. Scars glisten pink along Sasuke’s arms, but a flex and a prod prove them to be healed. “Well...it’s not p-pretty, but…”

“It’s great. Thanks, Hinata.” The prince affords her a rare smile that she returns.

A kind of tension seems to bloom...before they both glance away.

“I...I-I should see if Naruto has any wounds,” she offers, moving to stand.

“Yeah, I’ll...start working on a fire for the camp.” He watches her go, unable to help a feeling of...frustration. Like he’s missed something. Looking to his arm, fingers gently sweep over the new scar tissue. He’s sure they won’t be the last.

...and maybe he won’t mind a little healing every now and again.

Well, not as late as last night - woo? lol More AtLA! I've been really feeling this fandom lately, and it worked well for this prompt, too! I love incorporating some healing with Hinata, given her canon dabbling into it, what with her poultices she's been seen to make! So while she might not be a master, she can at least help Sasuke's wounds a bit. And he doesn't mind getting a little up close and personal, it seems ;3 Anywho, that's it for today! I'm excited to have crossed the 50 day mark - and soon we'll be at two months! Kinda crazy, honestly...time's really flying. But, either way, thanks for reading!

#uchiha sasuke #hyūga hinata #sasuhina #healing waters and scorching flames [ au ]#365daysofsasuhina

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