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biggest-stupidhead · 3 years

Note

Hello! This is the first time I'm ever requesting something 😂

What do you think of Captain Levi taking the weak cadet reader under his ~very~ protective wing?

Thanks!

Aw thanks for sending this in! 🥺 Personally I think that at first he’d be reluctant to get close but eventually he’d feel responsible for their safety.

Here’s a little something sweet for the kids.

Summary: Levi can’t bear to watch another kid die under his care.

Word Count: 1.8K

Warnings: mentions of past abuse and malnourishment

When the group of teens wandered into the courtyard, Levi knew that they were no different from the previous bunch. Wide eyed, heads in the clouds, loud boisterous laughter. All the innocent traits that they should’ve possessed, being only fifteen years old. So as he leaned against the stables with Hange at his side he began to wonder which of the young soldiers would come out on top.

There was a sturdy boy with bright blonde hair and a dazzling smile. He seemed strong, and just from looking at him Levi could tell that he was well versed in social cues. If he could prove himself strong enough to make it through the expeditions, he stood a chance at rising in the ranks. A girl with red hair and sharp brown eyes was looking around her new environment with a certain cagey manor that Levi recognized all too well. He figured that at least she was unlike most of her peers, more focused on the here and now, something that was vital outside of the walls. A brunette boy walked in along with the throng of kids, but his shoulders were pulled back and chin cocked upwards. It was clear that he was confident in his skills, more so than most of his peers. He noted the cuts on his knuckles and how his fellow soldiers granted him a wide berth, Levi figured that he must have been strong enough to demand the respect of his comrades.

It was only Levi’s second year with the scouts, yet he could recognize these traits with ease. Cadets were chewed up in training, spat into action and then digested by titans, well of course not literally since titans don’t digest. He hated that he could recognize those who would not make it apart from those who would.

And when he saw you, he knew that you would not be one of them. Frail and silent, almost an apparition, barely standing apart from the crowd. Levi was thrown right back into the darkest parts of his memory when he took in your malnourished state, the bones that jutted from your wrists, the way that the clothes looked too big on you. It was all too familiar, hunger had been a pain he had endured for the worse half of his life.

He couldn’t fathom why of all the regiments, you had come crawling into the corps. Your eyes were glazed over and your face held no emotion. You jumped when the blonde boy clapped you on the back, his hands rubbing your shoulders almost mockingly. If Levi strained his ears, he could just make out the boy’s words. “-I’m still surprised you came here (Y/n)! Thought for sure you’d drop out and work in the fields.” He teased as he steered you towards the red head who was glaring daggers back at the blonde and you.

“I’ve told you....I’m no quitter.” Your words were strained and clearly you had dealt with this tormenting perviously as well.

“Ah but you see I’m proud of you! Our own little runt rising in the ranks.” He clapped your back once more, causing you to stumble forward and smack into the red head who whipped around and glared at the blonde.

“Knock it off Jake, I’ll break your damn ankles if you keep messin with the lass.” Her accent surprised Levi.

“Oh come on Red, you know I’m right.” Jake pressed as he kept a domineering hand on your shoulder, guiding you forward. Levi couldn’t tell if the banter between the three, or well two of them was friendly or hostile as they marched past the stables.

“Interesting batch this one...” Hange commented as she angled her head down to speak to Levi in a somewhat hushed tone.

“Hmph, I suppose.” Levi agreed, eyes still locked on the retreating cadets.

“Since I’m a squad leader now, I think that I’ll take the blonde, he looks like he possesses a good mind.” Hange brought her knuckle to her lips to nibble the skin as her cheeks flushed with excitement. Levi rolled his eyes, he was still working directly under Erwin as a regular soldier, but he hoped to have his own team as well soon.

“You do that.” Levi grunted, pushing off of the wall to tail the cadets into the dining hall for dinner. Hange huffed in disappointment but still followed after Levi, easily catching up to him and matching his stride.

“And what about you? Erwin mentioned giving you some kids to watch, which would you like to have under your care?” Hange asked as she smirked down at Levi.

“The ones that know how to properly clean their asses.” Levi grunted as he pulled the doors open and marched straight towards the veteran’s table in the back of the room, where Nanaba, Gelgar, Mike, and Ness were already gathered. He grabbed a tray of food before dropping into an open seat next to Mike, Hange falling into the seat to his right.

“-She’s to thin I can’t believe she can even function-” Gelgar was in the middle of a rant when Nanaba smacked him in the back of the head.

“That’s no way to speak about her! God knows what she’s been through.” Nanaba’s voice was hushed and carried an edge of scolding on it as she spoke. Levi followed their gaze back to you, sitting between Jake and the red head, their shoulders brushing against yours as the three or you scarfed down the food. Directly across was the brunette, his eyes were dull and constantly roaming across the room, almost as if he was on look out duty.

“Come on Nan, look at the poor runt! I’m only speaking the truth.” Gelgar argued, your back was to them, jacket strewn across your lap, meaning that your spine could be seen, even from nearly across the room.

“Who’s going to want that responsibility? It’s like sending a lamb off to slaughter!” Gelgar continued and Mike gave a grunt in agreement.

“I’ll take her.” Levi’s voice surprised himself, the table fell quiet as they all stared at him in awe.

“What? Clearly she has some talent if she’s made it this far.” Levi grunted, lifting his tea to his lips in hopes of deterring more questions.

“How bold of you.” Hange said with a wide smile.

“Shut up shitty glasses.” He scoffed and stood, eager to find Erwin and request for the mangey runt to be in his mini squad.

Your feet kicked out in front of you, tapping harmlessly against Casper’s shins. You were eating slower than usual, feeling pressured by Jake and Carina on either side of you. Casper was dutifully keeping watch, something that he had done since you were children, the threat of loosing dinner to rabid street dogs or other children. The inner walls were only kind to those of status, you were examples of that. Casper and yourself had met on the streets and been inseparable ever since, picking up Jake and Carina in the cadet corps. Now you had a happy little family.

“What squad are you assigned to?” Jake prodded your boney ribs, spitting crumbs on you as he spoke.

“Erwin’s.” You answered, taking a chunk out of your own bread as well.

“Ahh for real? I’m with squad leader Hange.” Jake’s chest puffed out proudly and Casper rolled his eyes.

“I’m under Erwin as well.” He said, looking to Carina expectantly.

“I’m under Mike.” Carina said with her mug pressed to her lips.

“So we’ll be splitting up...” You said with a dark look on your face.

“Seems so.” Jake agreed in a light hearted manner.

“We’ll be okay.” Casper said to the group, but his eyes were locked on your own.

As it turned out, you weren’t exactly under Erwin Smith’s care. Instead you were standing in front of his prickly subordinate, shivering in the cool morning air.

“You lot will be working alongside me, when I say to do something I mean it. I don’t like repeating myself.” Levi paced up and down the row of cadets, only about five kids in total.

“You want to live, train hard and trust in your comrades.” He continued, pausing in front of a girl with blonde hair.

“Study the formations, keep your gear pristine, and care for your horse as if it was your own child.” Levi’s boots crunched on the gravel as he stopped in front of you. You were tense and your eyes were more alert than he remembered.

“Got it?” He growled and all the cadets nodded eagerly and gave him a flurry of ‘yes sirs’ .

“Yes sir.” He noticed how your jaw was locked and your shoulders were pulled back. Already he was seeing improvements.

“Good, let’s get started then.”

In the few months that you had to prepare for the expedition, you made slow progress. Putting on weight and muscle alike, all thanks to Levi. He often requested you to help him with his paper work and re shelving the books in the scout’s library. As a reward he would often gift you extra rations, you were grateful of course. But as the expedition neared it became obvious that he was not going to sign you off.

“-Captain I have to go, it wouldn’t be fair to my comrades! They need me!” You begged, hands splayed out on his desktop as he leaned back in his chair.

“Quit whining, I’m trying to spare your pathetic life.” Levi scoffed as he glared up at you.

“But sir, it’s not fair. It’s like you said, my life isn’t worth more than my comrades’.” You argued, surprised by your own stubbornness as you glowered at your superior.

“You’re right....but every human life is special in its own right. If you were to perish under my care....I’d never-”

“It’s part of the job. I signed up knowing the risks, I’m sure you did too. So....let me do what I signed up for.” Your voice mellowed out and you averted your eyes, embarrassed by the outburst.

“I won’t let you die out there. Sit this one out, work harder, gain some strength and then you can join us on the mission. If there’s one thing in this world that I hate more then filth, it would be a pointless death.” Levi rose to his feet and met your gaze once more. You couldn’t deny that you were weak, he was right, if you were to go out there now, you would surely perish.

“Fine, just this once.” Levi felt his heart float with relief, even if it was just one mission, it was still more time that he could spend on training you.

“Thank you, now get the fuck out of here.” He pointed at the door and you saluted him one last time before leaving him alone in his dimly lit office. He promised himself that he would do his best to prepare you, keep you safe, keep you alive. That was all he wanted, he knew that this was a dangerous wish, but he was determined to see it through, no matter what.

#levi squad #levi aot #levi ackerman #levi x reader #aot fanfiction #hange zoe #erwin smith #levi x fem!reader #levi x reader insert #levi x you #levi x y/n #levi ackerman x you #levi ackerman fanfiction #levi ackerman x reader #aot fandom

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silver-starlight-99 · 3 years

Text

Monsters at Work: The Jokester Generation Part Three: Life on the Other Side

There are many parents who’d call their child a miracle. For Liam and Noelle Rae however, they’d come to use that term in a somewhat literal sense. On the night when Mary Susanna Rae came into the world, her introduction wasn’t without… complications. The newborn’s breathing was irregular, her lips and fingers were a chilling blue hue, and she came out gasping instead of crying. The girl was showing signs of respiratory distress, and for the first-time parents, they were in a state of panic fearing their little girl wouldn’t make it through the night. Thankfully, doctors were able to get the newborn to an incubator at lightning speed. And, within a few days, little Mary Rae was stable enough to be returned to her exhausted, but overjoyed parents. She’d need to return a few more times to the hospital, to ensure things were running smoothly. But otherwise, the Raes were cleared to bring their daughter home.

Besides that little scare, little Mary Rae had a rather average infancy, with parents more than eager to smother their daughter in love and as many gifts they could buy. While Liam’s job as an insurance agent didn’t mean the family was rolling in money, he was more than willing to splurge where he could on his little miracle. And, to be fair, the mountain of baby toys, clothes and food they’d received as gifts from friends and extended family members meant the new parents didn’t have to worry as much about supplies for the first couple of months. In spite of all this love and support, there was always a twinge of fear in their hearts, one that had never fully gone away since their daughter’s rocky introduction to the world. While the hospital check-ins were completed, and the two were assured that there should be no further problems with Mary, it’s hard not to shake the fear of something going wrong with their little girl, something spontaneous, something they couldn’t prepare for. For Noelle Rae, this would occasionally lead her to spend nights in her daughter's room, wanting to be sure she could jump in the second something seemed off with her baby’s breathing. But as long as they kept her close and cared for, their fears would slowly start to wane.

By the time Mary was two, the Raes’ worries were nearly dissipated. Which was good, because this high-energy little lady was more than enough to keep them busy without anxiety about her breathing. The toddler would insist on chasing every cat or dog that she came across in hopes of petting it. She’d sing and dance herself to exhaustion with zero prompting. She’d given her parents more than their share of heart attacks during games of hide-and-seek where she accidentally led them to believe she’d escaped the house. Childproof locks in the Rae household were a must. Thankfully, it appeared Mary also inherited her mother’s artistic drive. If someone needed to keep her in place, just put some paper and a box of crayons in front of her and she’d stay still for a solid hour, perfecting each of her masterpieces. Sure, there were nights where Mary would insist on sleeping in their room. But hey, what kid didn’t go through a phase where they were terrified of a monster hiding under the bed or in the closet? As long as Noelle and Liam were able to be there for their girl, there was nothing they couldn’t handle… right?

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It was an early Autumn morning when Liam Rae heard his wife’s cries. He rushed out of his room to find her frantically scrounging in a closet. According to Noelle, when she’d left to wake their daughter, she was nowhere to be seen. This wasn’t the first time little Mary had gotten up early to try and coax one of her parents into a game of hide-and-seek, so she wasn’t immediately worried. Of course, most games didn’t take over an hour with no sign of the toddler. Starting to worry, Noelle began calling out to Mary, then outright ordering her to come out of her hiding spot. With no daughter to be seen or heard, she began to check the closets and locked rooms, almost hopeful she’d accidentally forgot to lock a room and her baby was just snoring away somewhere. Soon, Liam joined in the search, with both parents entering a state of panic. By the time they’d turned their home inside out, no Mary in sight, and they triple-checked the front and back doors to ensure she couldn’t have gotten out of the house, they finally called the cops.

The rest of the day went by in a blur, a horrible, exhausting blur. Hours were spent in questioning with the police, along with calls out to every neighbor they knew, asking if any of them had seen their daughter that morning, or any suspicious people near the house. The police weren’t able to find any signs of forced entry. And upon re-examination with the parents, with the exception of a few missing blankets and toys, there was nothing that could be considered unusual about Mary’s room. It was as though the toddler had vanished into thin air. Leaving the Raes on the verge of a breakdown. After the initial interviews and investigations were completed, the parents were told it would take a few hours to finalize the missing-child report, leaving them to mull over the day’s events before the police could begin broadening their search. Despite the assurances and messages of support from their neighbors, it wasn’t enough to keep away the air of despair that followed the parents the rest of the day. After almost losing their little girl when she was born, they were facing a potential future where they may never see her again. And once again, there was nothing they could do. It gave Noelle flashbacks to Mary’s birth, the doctors rushing the newborn to get proper treatment. While the exhausted mother was in a state of delirium from the medications taken to help alleviate the pain, and confused terror as to why she couldn’t hold her daughter.

That following night was especially difficult for the couple, just trying to be there for each other as they cried themselves to sleep.

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So imagine the shock they felt when Mary popped out of her room the following morning, right the f*ck outta nowhere, asking for a snack. What started as shock shifted to jubilation as Noelle and Liam held their daughter tight, checking her over for injuries through tear-filled eyes. Mary herself seemed fine, with no noticeable scratches or scars, not even a tear in her pajamas. But it’s clear something has happened to her. Her hair is disheveled and in need of brushing. There’s a distinct smell on the toddler, but one her parents can’t discern. She’s missing a sock. And still, the parents can’t find the missing blanket and toys. None of this makes any sense. But in the moment, their miracle is alive and safe, and they’re more than happy to revel in this moment of peace.

“And yes sweetie, Daddy will get you some Cheerios, just let us have this.”

Things however got a bit more complicated when it came to explaining things to the police. The Raes thought the missing toys should’ve been enough to prove that something was in their home and took their daughter. But as the police repeatedly explained, there wasn’t enough evidence to send an APB on someone who, for all intents and purposes, appeared and disappeared out of thin air.

Of course, evidence or not, this event had some crazy ramifications for the people of this quiet neighborhood. There were many families with young children that were suddenly fearful that someone could come for their own, and they’d be powerless to stop them. A lot of households were investing in extra locks and security systems. A Neighborhood Watch was established, but all it really seemed to do was stir up further anxiety and paranoia within the adults. There were those who believed the Raes fabricated the whole kidnapping in a sick ploy for attention. There were petty people who were using the situation as a means to place suspicion on neighbors they didn’t like. A curfew was attempted, but that just made the teens in the area grow restless, many sneaking out in defiance and putting further stress on the parents. What seemed like a quiet, easy-going suburbia was slowly devolving into one of suspicion and anxiety, with everyone trying to find someone they can put the blame on. Things only got worse when one Gabriella Harlin, through a long line of accusations, was discovered to have been laundering money from her job to pay for her family's many extravagances.

Some families were driven to move out because of the harassment they were facing on a daily basis. Time and time again the police were called in to deal with reports of vandalism. Eventually, even the local news caught wind of the chaos and began to ask people for interviews, the Raes especially since they were the ones considered to be the start of the whole situation. It would be months before the chaos would eventually die down, but enough damage was done that after the dust settled, things on Langdale Avenue were never the same. No matter how bad things seemed outside their home, Noelle and Liam Rae were facing something far more distressing inside.

Despite what the police had chosen to believe, something happened to little Mary Rae, and her parents were left to try and comfort their child in the aftermath of whatever she'd been through. No longer was the toddler crawling into their bed whenever she was having a bad night, now her mom and dad were finding her curled up in her closet, eyes with a tinge of red as though she’d been crying. Before, Mary would do the occasional doodle of a strangely-colored creature, but now she exclusively drew monsters and weird mish-mashes of animals. And some of them were… rather disturbing; Mary being chased by a giant spider-crab (Waternoose.) A green beach ball thing with horns screaming in pain (basically 80% of her interactions with Mike.) A purple salamander being beaten with a bat (Randall.) And most distressingly, a blue and purple bear-like monster called Kitty is being choked to death by long purple arms (Randall as he was trying to kill Sully before Mike stepped in with that snowball.) How do they know the monster’s name is Kitty? Because that’s the name she’s been repeating for the last few weeks, always asking where they were? The Raes were quick to make the connection between this strange creature and the girl’s disappearance, but there’s still so much of the full picture they didn’t know.

So yeah, between trying to take care of their daughter and having their neighbors and the local news going nuts outside their home, Liam and Noelle had their hands full for a few months. There was a very serious consideration to move to a new city, even if it meant money would be tight. But one of the things that held them back on this decision, once again, was their daughter. Despite her new habits and her occasional bouts of moodiness, Mary always seemed the most comfortable in her room. Something about the familiarity always seemed to soothe the girl. And Liam and Noelle could tell that in this period of madness, this little room of calm was something their kid needed more than ever. So they agreed to wait things out, but also thought it best to let Mary have some playdates with some of her cousins outside of town, so they could all enjoy a few hours of calm away from the chaos.

Thankfully, things eventually died down. Sure, things were still strained between neighbors, but by then, everyone’s name had been dragged through the mud at some point. So everyone that was left was willing to let bygones be bygones, just to try and return to some level of normalcy. Little Mary had become a bit more introverted since her return, but with time and care from her family, she would soon regain her old chipper attitude, even if she’d become wary around new people. But hey, after everything she’d seen her neighbors put themselves through, the Raes weren’t surprised that their daughter wasn’t as trusting around unfamiliar adults.

In the end, everyone wanted to put this whole affair behind them, and the Raes were more than happy to do so. When asked, Liam and Noelle would usually be as vague as possible in regards to Mary’s disappearance and the explosive aftermath of their neighborhood. To be fair, with as little unbelievable evidence as there was, it wasn’t too hard for either of them to skim over the details. And as their daughter’s attitude began to improve, the Raes also did their best to put her distressing past behind them. Afterall, no matter how much they may have yearned for an answer, little Mary simply wasn’t able to explain, and in a few years, it was likely the whole terrible affair would become a faded memory in the child’s mind. But Liam, always the one to try and think ahead, decided to hold on to some of Mary’s stranger doodles, while he and Noelle usually disposed of the others. Who knows? Maybe once their daughter was old enough to form sentences, something in her old drawings would be enough to spark a memory of what truly happened. But that was no longer important. What was important was that their daughter, their miracle, was alive and safe. And this time, with God as their witness, she was going to have as normal and loving a life as Liam and Noelle Rae could possibly provide, weirdness be damned! ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Uh… hi

Ok, just a reminder, I was two when everything happened. So if you’re expecting a detailed account of my first time in Monstropolis, I’m probably not the person you want to hear from. Mike and Sully could probably do a better job at explaining how everything went down. But yeah, outside of a few nightmares, everything else just kinda turned into a blur for me. But what I do remember, after coming back home, was being sad. I love Kitty. I spent plenty of nights by my closet just wishing he’d come back, only to wake up without seeing him. It hurt.

And outside of that… I guess I was still causing trouble back then. Because my little disappearing act apparently caused the whole neighborhood to turn on itself. I know my parents and a lot of the older people there don’t want to talk about it, but come on; the local news was so desperate for a spicy story when they heard about people starting to throw dog sh*t at each other's doors, reporters were on us like a toddler to a stray piece of candy. I don’t remember much of it myself, but… you know that old Twilight Zone episode where the whole neighborhood goes batsh*t because they think one of them is an alien that’s messing with the power?

(Yeah, that's it!)

I like to think the whole affair was like that. I guess it makes me feel better about my part in everything. It’s easier to think things on Langdale Avenue went to sh*t because adults are a bunch of paranoid idiots, instead of blaming myself for getting lost in the first place. Maybe this is why mom and dad don’t like talking about it.

Anywho…

Ok, I told you I don’t remember much of what happened back then, right? Well, I definitely remember the day Sully came back.

I was about four and a half. It was a bit before I had to go to bed, so I was just playing with my toys. And suddenly, I heard my closet door creaking open. And who should pop out? James P. Sullivan himself. I remember giving him the biggest, tightest hug I could. And it felt so good to feel him hug me back. He pulled me through his side of the doorway, and I was a little surprised I wasn’t seeing the same scream floor I’d emerged from the first time. I didn’t really care about that at the moment, I was just happy to see Kitty again.

And… I guess that kind of became the new routine for us. Every other night when it was late, we’d just spend time with each other. It took some time for us to coordinate things to find a good time to meet. While time seems to pass at the same rate on both ends, I think my world’s a couple of hours behind that of the Monster world. But once we nailed down 11 O’clock as the best meeting time, me and Sully would hang out at least once a week. Sometimes I’d just show him some of my drawings, or just talk about whatever dumb thought came into my brain that day. Other times I’d bring in some toys from my room and we’d just play. Sully usually just went along with whatever I wanted to do, but he says he was fine with that.

Mike on the other hand, he was a bit harder to connect with at the start. We didn’t hang out as much as me and Sully, but when we did, it usually amounted to him showing off the stuff in his room. The door station was in his room after all. But that wound up being pretty fun too. I think it might’ve been here where my interest in baseball started. And let’s face it, Mike likes to put on a tough-guy attitude, but he’s a sweetheart deep down. There was this one night where I was having trouble sleeping, I don’t remember why, and he just sang me this lullaby he came up with on the spot.

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And then, a little while later, Celia started popping by for our visits. The three of them decided to form a … I think the word for it is a throuple? Whatever the term, they were spending a lot more time together, so it makes sense that Sully would want us to officially meet. Things were kinda awkward at first; she might’ve known kids weren’t actually toxic, but it must’ve been weird either way to be so close to a human. But with Sully helping along with introductions, we wound up getting along pretty well. Mike even taught me how to braid her hair without, you know, accidentally choking her hair.

Since then, my nightly visits were becoming a regular part of my life, and one I looked forward to. They never lasted longer than about 10 minutes at a time, but I cherished them. Apparently since they had to steal the Scream cans to power the door station, they always had to conserve energy. Despite that, I couldn’t help but see these monsters as just another part of my family. Something that was getting progressively harder to explain as I was getting older. When a kid’s four or five, it isn’t too weird to hear them talk about strange beings as though they were real people; what kid didn’t have an imaginary friend phase? When you ask a kid to draw a picture of their family, you don’t really question the weirdly-colored creatures holding the little girl’s hand; she’s just being creative.

It’s when I got older that things started getting complicated.

By the time I was in… I think second grade? Yeah, by then I was catching on that I needed to start keeping things to myself. My parents were telling me, in the kindest way they could, that I was starting to get too old for imaginary friends. To be fair, I think a part of that was because I had gotten into 3 fights by then with other kids because they were telling me my monster family couldn’t be real. I’m not sure what got me to react so violently, and I don’t think that instinct ever went away. I just got better at hiding it around other people.

(...where was I going with this?)

(No I wasn’t!)

(No it wouldn’t! So f*ck off and let me tell my own d*mn story!)

<Alright, geez>

Ok, so, I was starting to act out, and I was finally catching on that others weren’t believing my monster story. Between all that stuff and what went down when I was 2, it was getting hard for a lot of the other parents to feel comfortable with me around their kids. The term “problem child” started getting thrown around, and that just made me more frustrated. Which made me more reliant on my time with Sully, which made me more frustrated that it just wasn’t safe for me to tell anyone the truth.

As I got older, it felt like I was seeing the Monster world less and less. Sully had big plans for his world, and they were taking up more and more of his time. By the time I was in fifth grade, we were meeting maybe once a month. It meant we had more time to talk, but it also felt like so much had to get crammed into the time we had. Me getting onto the baseball team. Mike and Celia tying the knot. Getting my first real friend. Sully meeting up with some kinda monster group for his plans to make Laugh power a thing. Saying goodbye before I spent my first summer away from home. Mike and Sully tying the knot, kinda. It was an unofficial ceremony where they just kinda shared vows and had a lot of cake from some fancy bakery. I actually got to attend that, since they were doing it in Mike’s room.

And… I’m not sure what else to say. Things pretty much kept on like that through high school, and even beyond that. Keeping this secret, it hasn’t been easy, But I can’t imagine a life without my family, all of it.

<… Uh, you’re kinda leaving out a lot of backstory stuff>

(I guess. But they’re not reading this to hear my entire life story)

(OKAY! That’s a little more than they need to know… I think. Who’s even reading this?)

(God, I gotta deal with enough people looking down on me back home. I don’t need a bunch of people online trying to dissect every little detail of my life. Are we done here?)

-Boo grinding her teeth in aggravation-

(…

Thanks Zowie. So… are we done here?)

<Yeah, I think we’ve done enough to leave ‘em hooked for the next chapter>

(And how much longer ‘till I actually get to be in this AU thing?)

<Uh, I don’t know. Silver says it might be another chapter of background stuff before we get things rolling with the real story. And then she still needs time to properly introduce Tylor>

…

(Oh God. Stay tuned folks, looks like it’s gonna be a while

Wait… I thought I was the protagonist of The Jokester Generation, who the f*ck is Tylor?)

#monsters at work #monsters inc #monsters at work: the jokester generation #au #fanfic #video #song #lengthy post #Youtube

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boycottyashahime · 4 years

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Hello! Anti-Sessrin person here. You said if this couple becomes canon it will ruin Sesshomaru's character development. I would love it If you could elaborate on that because you're always so eloquent and smart. It's ok if you don't feel like it, though. Have a nice day!

I've actually been looking for an excuse to sit down and write out a cohesive post on my thoughts about this. Contrary to what the shippers want to believe, my interpretation of Sesshoumaru and Rin's relationship doesn't have anything to do with my moral objections to child grooming. I happen to think there's plenty of evidence for a filial interpretation in the text.

First, I'd like to preface my little essay here by saying I'm going off the manga alone. I haven't seen the anime in a long time, because I dropped it when I got a little tired of trying to reconcile the inconsistencies between the two mediums. So, if you read this and have an impulse to say, "hey, what about that thing in episode such-and-such...", keep in mind that I probably just don't remember what you're thinking of.

So, let's go back, alllll the way back, to Sesshoumaru's first appearance. Here's a guy who tears off a dude's head for no other reason than to get the attention of his subordinates to demand a boat. Here's a guy who's spent a long time looking just about EVERYWHERE for his father's remains, not to pay respects, but to plunder them. Here's a guy who feels ENTITLED to rob his dad's grave for treasure he deserves simply for being his father's son.

Sesshoumaru begins his journey as a selfish, spoiled, entitled brat. He doesn't fit the usual profile of a kid throwing a tantrum on the street because he wants the expensive toy sitting in the window; he's very posh and very reserved, but fundamentally, his motivation comes down to the simple fact that he wants Tessaiga. It doesn't even really have anything to do with respect and admiration of his father, otherwise he wouldn't have been so eager to rifle through dear old dad's bones to get at a sword when he had another heirloom right there at his hip. Only Tessaiga was representative of the sheer destructive force he wanted to wield, so he ignored the fact that his dad didn't seem to want him to have it.

This is important, because at first, Sesshoumaru doesn't seem to think of his father in terms of the guy's intentions or the steps he takes for the sake of his sons. Like most rich spoiled kids, Sesshoumaru views the Inu no Taishou in terms of his prestige and how that priviledge can be appropriated for selfish ends. Sesshoumaru wants Tessaiga not because he needs it, but because it's a birthright, and reinforces his legitimacy. When it's clear that Tessaiga seals Inuyasha's youkai blood, keeps him from going berserk, Sesshoumaru loses interest in Tessaiga - it's just a crutch for Inuyasha, and there's no prestige in taking it from him or using it for himself.

Sesshoumaru doesn't start to REALLY consider his father's intentions for the swords until later in the manga, when it comes out that Tenseiga was originally part of Tessaiga, and Inuyasha was meant to get the Meidou Zangetsuha attack eventually as well. It's at this point that Sesshoumaru starts to question if daddy actually HATED him, to give him a rather neat power disguised in a lame shell, but only to develop it so Inuyasha can have it instead, even after Inuyasha already got Tessaiga in the first place. It kind of looks to Sesshoumaru that Inuyasha gets all the powerful cool shit their father left behind, and that there might have been some favoritism coming down HARD on Inuyasha's side.

Above, you can see Sesshoumaru has two interlinked but distinct issues that are addressed throughout the story - his lack of compassion and empathy, and how tied his identity is to his father's favor and prestige. These two are somewhat separated in the narrative; there's a kind of pause in Sesshoumaru's development while a bulk of the middle of the story deals more with other characters and their development, but there is a little bit of a thematic connection between the two halves.

We'll start with the development of Sesshoumaru's compassion since, well, that's where the story begins working on his character. Right before Rin shows up, Toutousai let's Inuyasha's group in on the sword Sesshoumaru carries around and what it does, indicating that Tenseiga requires a compassionate heart to function. A bit ham-handed, but RT isn't very subtle most of the time, so we'll allow it. This sets up the next few scenes in which Sesshoumaru is unable to move and must play captive audience to a little girl doing the literal opposite of what he's used to. Sesshoumaru's habit is to show up and kill things, with no thought to the years of history, relationships, thoughts, emotions, etc that he's snuffing out. But while he's reclined injured in the woods, Rin demonstrates actual LIFE and the preservation of it, that part Sesshoumaru never gets to see. It's made all the starker by how BAD Rin is at caring for herself, let alone the strange monster she found in the woods. She does exactly nothing to help Sesshoumaru, despite how hard she tries, and is even injured by others in her attempts. She is the very picture of vulnerability, the opposite of the strong and capable Sesshoumaru.

This is a stark contrast, because anything less wouldn't be enough to create the necessary awareness of Rin's struggles that Sesshoumaru needs in order to use Tenseiga on here. And I know I've said this before, but I really cannot stress enough how obvious I think the symbolism is when Sesshoumaru uses Tenseiga for the first time; a phallic object gives life to a child, and the object's owner looks after that life throughout the rest of the story. He's not very good at looking after it, and it's clear that he's not sure about taking responsibility for Rin at first, because she pleaded for him to come back for her when he and Jaken left her behind to requisition a sword from Gaijinbou. To me, it's reminiscent of a teenager who knocked someone up, and ended up having to learn to give a crap about the result.

But, even if you don't accept that symbolism as particularly significant, Rin being a child, and human, and weak, unable to survive on her own, are important characteristics to how Sesshoumaru's compassion develops. Sesshoumaru is one of the strongest characters in the series, and he rarely has to worry about his own safety. And since he's in the habit of just murdering everyone he comes across if they're in his way, he's never had to worry about the safety of anyone else, either. When Rin comes into the picture, though, Sesshoumaru is faced with the uncomfortable reality of vulnerability in general. Through her earnest and incompetent attempts to foster survival in a world that can and does crush her, she's opened his eyes to how the disadvantaged, those without a powerful youkai lineage to rely on, have to struggle.

Rin herself has nothing to offer Sesshoumaru within this context of supreme vulnerability. She's not a friend, because she can't offer mutual support or use a skill to their benefit as a team. She's not a lover, because, well, she's a child and sexual/romantic attraction are conditions that wouldn't allow Sesshoumaru to extend his compassion beyond just her. As a mostly helpless kid, Rin has to rely upon Sesshoumaru and his power to survive, and Sesshoumaru employs his strength to keep her alive, getting nothing but a sweet smile out of it all. She gets all the benefits, he has all the obligations. This is PURE compassion - using one's advantages to another's benefit because you care about them, and not because you derive something from it as well.

This is why making Rin into Sesshoumaru's lover is a REALLY thoughtless take. It puts conditions on the compassion and muddies the message.

Moving onto Sesshoumaru's continued character development in the latter part of the story, the sword drama starts back up with slow, when Toutousai shows up and offers to reforge Tenseiga into a weapon. Sesshoumaru discovers that because he got angry enough to break his primary weapon in defense of Kagura's honor, he's triggered the next evolution of Tenseiga into something that can murder. Which is what he wanted at the beginning, yay! I want to point out here that Toutousai says Tenseiga noticed a change in Sesshoumaru's heart - anger for the first time for the sake of another. This implies that what Jaken said about Sesshoumaru getting tangled up in the fight against Naraku because Naraku kidnapping and using Rin to manipulate Sesshoumaru hurt Sesshoumaru's pride is actually accurate; he just really hated the thought of Naraku trying to use him, even if it was a failed attempt.

After going through HELL to develop the Meidou into a full circle (literally), Sesshoumaru then learns that the Meidou belongs to Tessaiga and Inuyasha, and that it's supposed to be handed over. Now, part of Sesshoumaru's angst over this idea, I think, is not just "did daddy love Inuyasha more?", but also the assumption that Inuyasha would have to KILL him in order to retake the Meidou Zangetsuha into Tessaiga. Thinking that your father meant for your little brother to kill you at some point to take your stuff is a pretty disturbing thought, to be entirely fair to him. This is why, when Sesshoumaru jumps into the meidou to take back control of the Naraku-possessed Tenseiga and breaks it deliberately, he spends the rest of the time in there moodily resigned to disappear. He genuinely believes that his father meant for him to die at this point, and even after they get out of there, he seems genuinely depressed.

This is Sesshoumaru's lowest point as a character. He's lost something he thought his father had meant for him, at his father's own wish, and he can't help but question why his dad would give him something just to take it away and give it to Inuyasha. It looks for all the world like favoritism, and since the Inu no Taishou is dead, there's no asking him what the hell the meaning of all this is.

This is all leading to one of the most infuriatingly ridiculous scenes I have ever seen in a manga - when Magatsuhi has crushed Sesshoumaru and everyone thinks he's been killed/absorbed, Magatsuhi is blown apart and rendered unable to reform by the shiny new sword clutched in Sesshoumaru's newly regrown arm. I could talk your ear off about how having Sesshoumaru stop being an amputee is erasure of consequences for his actions, or how being given back an arm is kind of a slap in the face for actual amputees, and where the mother f*ck did that sword come from anyway, but that's not what this essay is about, so I'll just keep all that to myself. The point of this is articulated by Toutousai when he says that Sesshoumaru had to let go of Tessaiga and his father's heirloom to stand on his own as a daiyoukai.

We've already gone over how Sesshoumaru is one of the most powerful characters in the series, who rarely has to worry about his well-being. He's just really strong without having to try. Sesshoumaru had already learned that he didn't need Tessaiga ages ago - he knew this when he learned that Inuyasha needed Tessaiga to keep from tearing himself apart eventually. But when he thought he had been passed down something from his father that was truly meant to be his, only to put all this work into it so that Inuyasha could have it, that embittered him again. It's not that he wanted the sword necessarily, but the thoughts and consideration of his father, who seemed to be putting everything he had into Inuyasha.

But his previous experiences protecting and considering someone (in some cases, multiple someones) weaker than him should have tipped him off. During the very battle in which he got his new arm and sword, he was actively helping those around him avoid Magatsuhi and keeping them close because he had a plan and the strength to carry it out. He was willing to take the extra step to protect Inuyasha and friends before trying to take care of Magatsuhi though, and that was the point. He put everyone else's needs ahead of his own, even Inuyasha's, and he did it without even thinking.

Toutousai just articulated what Sesshoumaru should have already intuitively known by that point. He never needed his father's heirlooms, the swords, his dad's power. They were unnecessary for him from the start. Inuyasha needed a leg up, because his own BODY could kill him after a while. But Sesshoumaru always had the capability of being great on his own. He just needed to finally separate his ego from who his father was and become his own person; stand on his own as a great youkai. While I don't agree with the execution, I can get behind the big lesson - don't rely on your daddy's wealth and influence to prop you up, and do the work to build a personality and identity of your own.

Which is ANOTHER reason why making Rin into a lover would be a thoughtless take. It would walk back Sesshoumaru's final lesson about being his own person apart from his father.

So, there you go. A comprehensive post regarding my take on Sesshoumaru's character development. I could add in a bit about Sesshoumaru coming to understand his father's consideration and the lengths he went to for the sake of protecting Inuyasha by having to give similar consideration to Rin, but I think this post is long enough, and that one statement on that aspect pretty much sums it up. Let me know if you would like me to elaborate on any of this, or if you would like to argue any of the points, I'm up for it. Might take me a minute to respond, mind you, but hopefully it won't take as long as it did to draft this behemoth.

Take care.

#inuyasha #rin (inuyasha)#sesshomaru #sesshoumaru #character analysis #character development analysis #i pulled out all the stops for this one #anti sessrin #i know this doesn't match the perfect prince characterization Sesshoumaru usually gets #but i just calls it as i sees it

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thecaptainbriarrose · 3 years

Text

The Game of Truth

Also available on my Ao3 account here

Summary: With her secret relationship with Katsuki Bakugo, Ochaco Uraraka should have thought a little bit more about playing truth or dare before she agreed. She spent so much time with the girls in her class that they shouldn't need to ask any questions about a relationship status any ways right? RIGHT?

The girls were just sitting down in the common area of the dorms after a long day of class. They had each changed out of their school uniforms and into comfortable clothes. Many of the boys slowly came to the kitchen/dining area to talk as well. After a little bit of a gossip session between the girls Jiro decided they needed something else to do.

“Alright, that’s enough of that.” She said.

“Aw! Come on Jiro! We are just getting to the juicy stuff!” Ashido wined. Hagakure had been talking about the drama happening between some of the hero support classes which involved a lot of kissing and a fair amount of fist fights.

Yaoyorozu stood up from the couch. “Jiro’s quite right.” She stated. “We shouldn’t be involved in other people’s personal lives.” Ashido whined again but didn’t say anything.

“We could play a game instead.” Asui chimed in.

“That’s a wonderful idea Tsu!” Yaoyorozu said excitedly, as she sat back down.

“Let’s play truth or dare! I’ll start!” Ashido said, and just like that the game began. Ashido was already asking questions before anyone could oppose the idea so there was no stopping it.

“We’re playing truth or dare, would anyone like to come join?” Uraraka asked the few boys who were in the dining area.

“No way!” Kirishima replied. “The last time I played with Ashido I ended up out in the snow in my underpants for nearly an hour. Couldn’t feel my toes for a week.”

“I’m with Kirishima on this one guys.” Kaminari chimed in. “I trust the rest of you but Mina’s brutal.”

“And I must prohibit you from playing!” Ida stated, chopping the air as he rushed over to them.

“Idaaaaa!” Ashido whined as she fell dramatically over Uraraka and Asui’s legs, who were sitting next to each other on one of the couches. “You never let us have any fun!”

“Fine,” Ida stated as he pushed his glasses back up his nose, “but there must be some rules. You can not do anything that hurts any person or any school property. Personal property is fine as long as it’s with permission.”

Most of the girls nodded in agreement while Ashido whined again but didn’t debat the terms.

“Great. Now have fun.” Ida said as he walked back to the kitchen where he had been helping Midoria make something that involved chocolate chips.

The game started off slow. Most of the girls chose truth and the questions being asked were terribly boring. Hagakure had just answered whether she would rather steal Aizawas cat or Shino’s hair gel. She chose Aizawa stating that she was going to get a lecture from him either way.

“Okay, I’ll ask Uraraka.” Hagakure said. “Truth or dare?” Uraraka was about to answer but-

“Hey ladies! What’s up.” Mineta said, coming over to the circle.

“Oh, were just playing a game.” Yaoyorozu said cautiously.

“What game??” He replied, trying not to sound too eager.

Ashido jumped up from the ground where she had been sitting and said, rather loudly, “Truth or dare! Wanna play?!?”

Minetas eyes seemed to sink into his skull in horror. “Um, I uh.” He stuttered as he backed away slowly. “No!” He quickly turned and ran in the opposite direction.

“What in the world did you do to him, Ashido?” Yaoyorozu asked.

“I will never tell.” Ashido responded as she folded her arms and plopped back down onto the couch.

“We’ll see about that.” Jiro said slyly. “Now where were we?”

“It’s my turn to ask a question!” Hagakure said cheerfully. “Uraraka, truth or dare?”

Uraraka thought for a minute. She didn’t want to do dare if she could help it, licking gross things or doing something embarrassing wasn’t stuff she enjoyed and she knew she wouldn’t be able to chicken out. She decided that truth would probably be the better option since she only had one thing to hide, and doubted anyone was going to ask her if she was in a relationship since she was with her class basically 24/7.

“I’ll do truth.” She said with a smile.

“Okay, um.” Hagakure paused to think of a question. Uraraka almost always chose truth and she was so sweet and innocent that there really wasn’t much to ask her. “I’m sure I already know the answer to this one but, have you ever kissed anyone?”

"Oh sh**!" Uraraka thought. Bakugo, who was sitting at the nearest table with his back to the girls, began to cough profusely, catching everyone’s attention.

“Dude! You okay?” Kirishima asked, rushing over to him.

“I’m ef-ing fine!” Bakugo yelled as soon as his coughing fit was over. “Just swallowed wrong!” He reached for the glass of water next to him and downed the whole thing. “Stop staring at me like I’m going to die! I’m fine!” He said as he looked back down at the book he’d been reading, his face just slightly pinker than usual.

“Now that Bakugo’s done being a baby,” Mina said, and Bakugo gave a large HUFF in reply, “let’s get back to your question Uraraka.”

“Well, um,” she hesitated as her face began to go red.

“No way.” Jiro said quietly. Uraraka cupped her face in her hands and she slowly started to float towards the ceiling.

“The last time you played you said you hadn’t! That means it was pretty recently! Uraraka!” Mina was literally jumping up and down on the couch in excitement.

“Okay fine.” Uraraka said as she floated back down and tried to calm her nerves. “Yes, I have.”

“Really Uraraka? ribbit” Asui asked.

“Yes.” She responded as she lightly fanned herself.

“Oh my gosh! Who is it?!? Tell us!” Mina was shaking her so hard that Uraraka thought she was going to give her a concussion.

“That wasn’t part of the question.” Uraraka said, folding her arms. “I don’t have to answer that.”

“Oh but you will.” Mina said.

Uraraka knew that from this point on, she would have to pick dare.

*** “They’re still playing!” Sero said surprisingly as the girls ran out of the room giggling, likely to watch someone do the dare they’d been given. “It’s been like an hour.”

“I know! And the worst part is, they’ve started speaking a lot quieter so we can’t hear anything they’re saying.” Kirishima chimed in.

“Have they really gone this long without disobeying Ida’s rules?” Sero asked.

“No idea. I’m just glad they haven’t pulled us into it.”

“Speak for yourself,” Kaminari muffled. He was sitting at the kitchen table with six charging cables sticking out of his mouth, each one connected to one of the girls' phones. Jiro had been dared to convince him to charge all of their phones for them. She gladly accepted the challenge and in less than two minutes had all of their phone hooked up.

“You haven’t moved much either Bakugo. Is that book really that interesting?” Sero asked and Bakugo sent him a nasty glare from the top of the pages. Less than a minute later the girls came back into the room giggling. Asui was wearing an extremely large, fuzzy, purple hat that had likely come from Ashido’s room.

“We should finish up you guys. I’m getting hungry.” Uraraka said as they sat back down on the couches.

“We can’t finish yet! We have to get that secret out of you!” Ashido insisted.

“Come on! Is it someone we know?” Uraraka folded her arms and turned her head. “What color is his hair?” Uraraka pushed her lips together. “At least tell us if it was a nice kiss!”

Uraraka wasn’t moving. Over the last hour she had done a handstand on the roof of the building, stood in the dumpster barefoot and licked the bottom of Ashido’s shoe. The last two were both dares from Ashido. Yet, she hadn’t spilled even the tiniest detail about her kiss, or kisses because there had definitely been multiple but they didn’t have to know that.

“She obviously doesn’t want to talk about it, Ashido. You’ve put her through enough, just leave her alone.” Yaoyorozu chimed in.

“If you won't spill then at least let me give you one more dare.” Ashido said. “Then we can be done.”

“Ashio, no.” Jiro said. Jiro knew, no, they all knew that this was going to be the worst dare yet.

“You don’t have to say yes Uraraka, we can just be done now.” Yaoyorozu said, and honestly Uraraka was going to agree but-

“Unless you’re chicken. You coward.” Mina said in a tone that was sinister, serious and taunting all at the same time.

“I’ll do it. One more dare.” Uraraka said, her courage taking over. It can’t be that bad right? It has to be within Ida’s rules so it can’t be much worse then what I’ve already done. Uraraka thought.

“Yes!” Ashido shouted, making everyone in the common area jump. As Ashido paused to think, Uraraka looked around. She realized that everyone was in the common room. Every single person in the class could see them, this could possibly turn into the most embarrassing moment of her life. “I’ve got it!” Ashido yelled, startling everyone again. She waved her arm in a motion that signaled all the girls to huddle around her.

As the girls moved in to listen to what Ashido had thought of, many of the boys watched eagerly, some of them, like Todoroki and Tokoyami, trying to hide it. The only exception was Bakugo who wouldn’t look away from his book that was a little too close to his face to read properly.

“Uraraka,” Ashido said quietly. Uraraka gulped as the other girls looked between her and Ashio. “I dare YOU to…” Ashiso paused to create more suspense, “get Bakugo to leave the room.”

“That's it?!?” Uraraka replied. Uraraka laughed, and half of the other girls breathed a sigh of relief, this was going to be stupidly easy. All she’d have to do is say a couple of things to him, maybe just explain the situation, or, in the worst case, make some kind of deal with him. If it came down to it she could always try using her quirk to push him out of the room.

“No, that’s not it.” Ashido’s grin grew. “You have three minutes to do it, you can’t say a word to him, that includes writing, texting and signing, you can’t use your quirk on him and… if you can’t do it you have to tell us who this mystery kisser is.”

“Ashido! You’ve gone too far!” Hagakure whispered.

“She’s not gonna get hurt and let's be honest, she was gonna have to tell us about her kiss eventually.” Mina shot back, still keeping the conversation quiet enough for just their circle.

“Uraraka, you really don’t have to do this.” Yaoyorozu said, giving Uraraka a sympathetic glance.

Uraraka thought about it for a minute. She had an idea, and a half decent back up plan, but if that didn’t work… She was the only girl, besides Ashido, who hadn’t ever backed down from a dare during their time at U.A. She had to do this.

“I’ve never backed down before and I’m not going to now!” Uraraka said and then turned away from the group. She couldn’t see it but all of the girls were in shock, even Ashido seemed a little surprised that she agreed to it.

“Uraraka, I could just go over there and talk to him.” Asui said, putting a hand on Uraraka’s shoulder.

“No, that wouldn’t be fair. I have to do this myself.” She took a deep breath in and said, “someone start the timer.”

Yaoyorozu created a stop watch and clicked the button on top. As Uraraka walked towards the dining area, many of the boys tried to glance away, pretending they were minding their business but Uraraka knew they were all watching.

"Here goes nothing", she thought.

Uraraka walked to the edge of the table and faced towards Bakugo. “What do you want Round Face?” He said, refusing to look away from his book.

She stuck her hand in front of the pages, blocking his view. “Move your hand or I will.” He said, raising his voice so that everyone could clearly hear him. Uraraka did move her hand but not in the way he wanted. She grabbed the book from the top and sent it floating above her head. Bakugo stood up and looked her directly in the eye, he was livid. “Give me back my book and leave me out of your stupid game.” Uraraka pressed her fingers together and the book fell into her hands.

“Thank. You.” Bakugo aggressively said, holding his hand out for the book. Uraraka lifted a finger, signaling that she wasn’t quite finished with it and then threw it out of the room. One of the girls gave a soft, excited “yes!” and Bakugo glared in their direction.

“You wanna go Round Face??” He yelled. Bakugo stood up taller and started to make small explosions in each of his hands. "Please work with me here!" Uraraka’s thoughts pleaded.

Uraraka kept a serious look on her face as she shoved him and then motioned towards the hallway where she had thrown the book. “You want me to fetch? Like a dog?” Bakugo’s voice started to raise and at this point everyone in the room was staring at the two of them, many with mouths open. Uraraka knew that the time was ticking but let a small smile creep onto her face. She knew what she was doing.

“Let’s take this outside and go a few rounds! Then we’ll see who’ll be smiling.”

"Yes! That's what I need!" Uraraka thought as she shoved him again, trying to make him even angrier.

“You two stop this at once!” Ida yelled. “If you two fight I will go get Mr. Aisawa!”

Uraraka looked at Ida and shrugged. “Yes! Let's do this!” Bakugo said as he turned towards the door. “But first.” He paused, and then turned back, “apologize for taking my book.”

"Please Katsuki, don’t do this to me." Uraraka thought.

“Did you hear what I said to you?!?” Bakugo yelled.

Uraraka glanced over at Yaoyorozu. “45 seconds.” She replied.

Uraraka thought for a second. She had to weigh her options here. She didn't have time to try to push him out of the room, he would just dig his heals into the ground, so that idea was out. Everyone was watching but they also all knew that she was just playing a game. She could do what she needed and everyone would just think it was necessary to win. If she couldn’t do this she would have to tell the girls, she couldn’t just lie to them, they would know. So she made up her mind. It was the only thing that she knew would make him mad and embarrassed enough to leave the room.

"Katsuki, I’m sorry." Uraraka thought as she shook her head.

Uraraka grabbed the top of his t-shirt, pulled his face towards hers and kissed him. She kissed him and she didn’t hold back, and, for a moment, he didn’t resist.

She was still holding onto his shirt when he pulled away. His mouth open, as everybody just stared. Someone had dropped something in the kitchen, a pot maybe, but nobody moved until-

“WHAT THE HE** PINK CHEEKS!!” The look on Bakugo’s face was a mixture between rage, confusion, embarrassment and interest. He quickly turned red and continued to shout several curse words as he marched out of the room and headed straight for the boys dorms, ignoring his book.

After taking a moment to realize what she had done, Uraraka took a deep breath and turned back towards the girls. “Well?” she asked.

Yaoyorozu cleared her throat and looked down at the stop watch.“10 seconds to spare.” She stated.

Uraraka immediately walked towards the group of girls, stopping in front of Ashido. Uraraka stood her ground, looked Ashido straight in the eye and stated, “I am not a coward.” Then she turned and left the room.

*** Uraraka layed in bed with the lights off for several hours that night.

She thought about how the room went silent when she finally came downstairs to make herself dinner. She did her best not to look at anyone but kept a grin on her face. Ashido broke the silence by yelling, “There she is! The queen of Truth or Dare!” Some people applauded this while others just laughed. The girls all looked very impressed, a few of the boys did as well, but many of the boys had mixed emotions. Some looked almost embarrassed, others looked as if they were trying to act uninterested and some looked jealous? Uraraka just giggled it off and gave a tiny bow before going back to cooking her food.

Everyone started talking again and the tension eased, that is until Bakugo entered the room. Everyone was already eating at this point except for the two of them. They made their food and both went their separate ways, back to their rooms, without saying a word. Uraraka didn’t need any more attention for the night, she had definitely had enough.

As she sat and ate her dinner that night she stared at her phone, wondering if she should text him. She knew he was mad, but she felt like she needed to make sure he understood why she had done it.

But now here she was, just lying in bed, wondering if she should text first.

She decided she might as well try, even though he likely wasn’t awake at this hour. He always went to bed so early.

As she reached for her phone, it vibrated. It was him.

“What you did tonight was ef-ing stupid,” the text read.

“I know.” She replied.

She watched the three little dots blink for what felt like an eternity, though it couldn’t have been for then a few minutes, before his next message came.

“Kirishima is never going to let me live this down.”

“I know.”

“You did it to save us from something worse though, didn’t you.”

He knew her too well. She figured he would have guessed as much, she’d still have to explain the whole story when she got the chance.

“I did,'' she replied.

The three dots appeared and then disappeared and then reappeared. The pattern continued for longer than 8 or 9 minutes until finally…

“I’m still pissed,” the message read. Uraraka smiled a little and shook her head.

“I know.”

She waited a few minutes for a reply but one didn’t come. No three dots, just a read receipt. He seemed to have gotten at least enough out of his system for the night.

“You love me though.” She sent. He read it immediately and she waited for the three dots to appear but they didn’t come. She probably stared at their conversation for nearly 15 minutes before giving up and plugging her phone back in.

Just as she rolled over to get comfortable in bed, her phone vibrated again. She rolled back to see his reply.

Two words,

“I know.”

#my hero academia #kacchaco #my hero academia fan fiction #katsuki bakugou #ochaco uraraka #uraraka ochako #bakugou katsuki #bakugo x uraraka #katsuki bakugo x ochaco uraraka #class 1-a #truth or dare #fan fiction #kacchaco fan fiction #mha

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oftheflamingheart · 3 years

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Not As Planned

This fanfic is a gift for @aromanticandaromatic from the @sanderssidesgiftxchange ! I combined a few of October’s prompts for a Roman x Emile Picani Soulmate AU story. Featuring Sides with Disabilities, and Angst (but Happy Endings)! Hope you enjoy, October, and all my other guys, gals, and non-binary pals that enjoy my Sanders scribblings. Beta Read by @creations-of-ps

Read on AO3 or under the cut below!

In many ways, winding up at some hole-in-the-wall café on the other side of the park was the perfect microcosm of how his day was going. He was in a strange place, in many ways. Literally, he'd never been here before. Roman didn't even like coffee. It had its uses; in a pinch. Especially if he was worried about what the energy drinks he frequently used was doing to him he'd switch to coffee. The cup in front of him was something the barista recommended. One of those seasonal things that's supposed to taste like some holiday treat. Which had it been? Roman couldn't remember.

There was only one real thought in his head. Nobody he knew had ever been rejected by their soulmate. That simply didn't happen. Even thinking about it that way seemed harsh. It had been mutual, at the end. The final rejection had to have the consent of both soulmates, although Roman had suggested any number of alternatives to simply cutting things off. How did the universe mess it up? How could a soulmate be wrong?

Roman turned the cup around in his hands on the table, his fingers itching to pull his phone out and call or text a friend. Virgil would care, he'd been so supportive when Roman found his soulmate. He'd been on the phone with Roman all night after his soulmate left. Virgil offered to cut his trip short and come home, he’d left with his boyfriend on a road trip they'd planned way in advance. Roman threatened to run off to his Aunt Patty’s house if Virgil came home early. Virgil and Aunt Patty didn’t get along, but then again Roman didn’t get along well with her either. After all his reassurances, he'd only make Virgil anxious about him if he complained now. Roman couldn't be that burden.

That's what he'd been to his soulmate. A burden. From the moment he'd seen his soul-stamp in the park, Roman had inconvenienced him. Mr. Soulmate was dating a girl who's soul-mate passed away when they were kids. He'd promised her his heart and he wouldn't give it to anyone else. Not even when Roman offered to be friends. His soulmate wouldn't risk even feeling positive feelings for Roman. Roman had begged, pleaded, bargained, gotten both of their parents involved and even had a heart to heart with the girlfriend. It had all made the soulmate angry. The last rejection stung the most, giving up. His wrist still burned a little.

He raised the cup in his hands to his lips and belatedly realized it was peppermint mocha. Also it was lukewarm at best. He grimaced and looked back down into the cup as he set it back on the table.

"My father used to say the darkest times call for the sunniest smiles!" Roman looked up from his cup of coffee and into a pair of eyes equally as brown, and a smile as sunny as he’d ever seen. He hadn't even heard the other young man approaching. “I bet you have a really sunny smile when you aren’t brooding over cold coffee.”

"You can keep the flattery. I'm not your soulmate," Roman said, dismissively looking back down at his cup.

A whistle from the other side of the table brought his gaze back up. This stranger had an eyebrow raised, his smile no less charming. "Yikes, greet everyone like that?"

Roman looked the stranger over and hesitated. Something in the guileless look he was getting made him want to talk to this stranger. "I'm sorry. I'm not very good company right now.”

"I'm Emile. I've been told I'm good enough company for two people," Emile said, waving a hand in greeting. "How do you know you're not my soulmate?"

Roman bit his lip and tried not to smile at this stranger. At any other time the interest would be welcome. On any other day, Roman would have flirted back. Instead, for some reason he decided to tell a stranger his most painful recent memory.

"My soulmate rejected me." What little conversation going on around them died. Roman sipped his coffee before remembering it wasn't good. He set the cup down again and moved it away from himself. “Yeah wow, can’t believe I just said that in public. Look, I’m sure you’re nice, but my heart’s just done.”

Emile held his hands up, both of which held cups of coffee. "Well, I sure shoved my foot in my mouth. I’m sorry. If you’d like I can go. I did get you a new coffee, but I totally understand if you’d rather not.”

Roman waited a beat but instead of shooing Emile away, he reached for the cup of coffee, leaned onto his elbows and sipped it. “Look, this is excellent coffee but I don’t want to bring you down with my problems.”

Emile waved his free hand. “I’m sure it’s a Wonderland of a mess, but now that I’ve jumped down this rabbit hole, let me try and dig our way out. What do you say, Alice?”

“My name’s Roman.”

Emile’s megawatt smile got even brighter and Roman found the corners of his mouth twitching.

“Roman, before you call it done-zo on your heart, maybe we should make sure it was your actual soulmate?" Emile asked.

Roman rolled his sleeve up. One palm up, he showed Emile his soul-stamp. A Christmas tree, star on top, now sporting a red X through it. His eyes misted over as he remembered the pain of that red X appearing. He felt rather than saw Emile's hand land on his upturned palm. His soul-stamp was a five-pointed yellow star with a red X over it.

Roman's breath hitched. "S-so I'm not alone?"

He hated himself instantly at how raw he sounded. He'd never heard of someone being rejected. A soulmate’s death made the soul-stamp disappear over time.

Emile nodded, turning his hand over to hold onto Roman's wrist. "Let's go for a walk, pardon the phrase."

Roman quirked an eyebrow at that, but stood up and waited for Emile to do the same. Instead, he glided around the table, seated in a wheelchair. Roman was struck for a moment, and Emile giggled. "You really were stuck in your own head, weren't you?"

"I'm sorry," Roman started.

Emile shook his head. "No, I remember how I felt when I first saw someone in a wheelchair. Felt like Aang meeting Teo. Come on, I'll get the door."

“Was that a Last Airbender…” Roman trailed off as he actually had to hurry to keep up. "Um, are you sure..."

Before he could even get the sentence out, Emile had the door open and was gesturing Roman through. "First rule. Don't underestimate what I can and can't do."

Roman nodded as he stepped outside. "Fair enough."

Emile led him to the park. The slight nip in the air felt good. Pulling alongside a bench, Emile reached over and patted on it. Roman obliged, sitting next to Emile with a shy grin. Catching himself, Roman turned away and exhaled.

"Okay. Would you like to share or would you like me to share my story?" Emile asked.

Roman shrugged. "Is it right to lay all this on a stranger? Let alone someone...like you. I'm sure my problems would seem like small potatoes compared..."

"Ah! Rule one," Emile chided.

Roman scrunched his nose. "What? Oh! I'm so sorry, that came out wrong didn't it? I'm just trying to say you've gone through more than I have."

Emile snorted. "I don't agree. I've gone through something different from you, true. But I've also gone through something you have as well." Emile waved his crossed-out stamp at him cheerfully.

"Oh. Right." Looking down, Roman rubbed a thumb over his own stamp.

Emile reached over and covered the stamp with his own hand. "I was in an accident. Car accident. Had to use the jaws of life to get me out of what was left of my car. My...my soulmate, Henry, sat at my bedside until the doctor said that I'd never walk again. That it was likely I'd lose all motor control from the neck down. That's when it became too much for him. He left me. Left me in a hospital bed. My mother was sure I'd die of grief if the operations failed to kill me."

Roman sat back, biting his lower lip. "That's...awful. But you didn't! And you weren’t…well, at least not as bad as they thought!"

Emile sighed. "Yeah, turns out doctors tend to go with the worst case scenario. Plan for the worst, hope for the best. By the time I could move my arms again, the X was already over our mark. I don't know if he even knows what my condition turned out to be. Not that it changes anything for me. I wouldn't take Henry back. I deserve better."

Roman's mouth dropped open. "But...but he’s your soulmate!"

Emile shrugged. "Not anymore. Among the many therapy groups I went through, there was one for people who'd gone through rejection. One of my group members got remarried to their soul mate after their first divorce, but the X stayed. They stayed together another year before they got another divorce. Once rejected, the bond breaks."

"So, I'm just going to be alone forever then." Roman ran his hands through his hair.

Emile wheeled around until he sat across from Roman. "You could be. Or you could be like my group leader. She got married to a man whose soulmate passed away."

The possibility excited Roman. He sat forward, suddenly eager. "Did he become her soulmate? Did her stamp change? Did a new stamp show up on his wrist?"

Emile's smile twisted for a moment and he heaved a sigh. "No and no. But he was her husband and they were, and still are, very much in love."

Roman sat back again. "But..."

Emile interrupted. "One of my friends once told me that having a soulmate is just different than finding your own love. A soulmate is someone made for you, but your own love is one you make for yourself. And who knows your heart better than yourself? The universe?"

"God?" Roman asked.

"Are you religious, Roman?" Emile asked, eyes catching his gaze again, as if they could see into his head.

"I believe in God," he replied. "But, not the same way I was raised."

Emile nodded. "If you can believe in a different God than what you were taught, would it really be so much harder to believe that God could have, let's say, a fallback plan?"

Roman raised an eyebrow. "Like, what?"

Emile held out one hand, his rejected stamp clear to see. "Like Plan A is your soulmate." Raising his other hand, Emile continued, "But Plan 2 is you making your own way."

Roman snorted. "Don't you mean Plan B?"

"Let's not bring family planning into this." Emile said, waving his second hand.

Roman let out a shaky breath. His eyes went out over the park. Could it have been their park? If his soulmate hadn't been so stupidly obsessed with one person's sadness that he would inflict that on someone else.

"I wasn't perfect. When it sounded like Joel…” Roman faltered as he realized it was the first time he’d said the name since he was rejected. Emile waited patiently, his eyes communicated how much he understood what Roman felt just then. “...when it sounded like he would never give me a chance I reached out to his parents. His friends. His girlfriend." Roman let the tears fall. Emile's attempt at placing a handkerchief in his hand failed, so he leaned in to dab at Roman's cheeks himself.

"Nobody's perfect. It sounds like you were afraid, and made some rather unfortunate decisions that only hastened what you wanted to prevent." Emile picked up Roman's hand and pressed the handkerchief into his hand again. Roman took it this time. “But I want you to know that this experience doesn’t disqualify you from being loved.”

When he could manage it, Roman spoke. "So I'm not...bad? Because my soulmate couldn't love me?"

Emile shook his head. "I don't pass value judgments like that. Do you think you were bad? Do you think you didn't deserve that love?" Emile asked.

Blowing his nose noisily, Roman belatedly remembered the handkerchief belonged to Emile. "Uh, sorry."

Emile produced another handkerchief and shrugged. "No worries. It's yours. Well, it's monogrammed, but that was an old wedding gift, so I'm not very attached to it."

Roman patted Emile on the knee. Wincing, Emile produced a small bottle of hand sanitizer. Roman let him squirt some into his hands. "Thanks. You know, I tried to get us into soulmate counseling, tried talking it out with him but nothing could change things once I screwed everything up. I'm...terrible. Yeah, to answer that question, I do think I was bad. I showed him how much I didn't deserve him."

At that pronouncement, Emile's permanent smile faded for the first time. Roman kicked himself again. Of course he screwed up again. A wonderful man with the same problem had offered his help and Roman sucked the happy out of him.

After an awkward silence, Emile lifted his head again. “Have you seen Beauty and the Beast?”

Roman blinked at the sudden topic change. “Uh, yeah,” he said, awkwardly reminded of the pair of beast pajamas he owned.

"Would you say that the Beast didn’t deserve love? ‘After all, who could ever learn to love a beast?’” Emile quoted.

Roman's eyes narrowed. "No, I guess not. But he changes. He realizes his mistakes and learns from them.”

Emile nodded emphatically. "Well, the way I see it, you made a mistake, and you can learn from it. Call it your emotional car wreck. And you could stay in the wreckage, or take the help offered you and find a way to live past it."

"But it's my fault! I drove him away. How do I live with that?" Roman shouted.

Every time he was sure that he wouldn't put up with him, Roman was surprised by Emile's grace. Emile held a hand out. He gave him the wrong one, but Emile shook his head. Sighing, Roman gave him the one with a stamp.

Emile poked his stamp and explained. "The only person responsible for your ex-soulmate's decisions is your ex. You were in an extremely emotional situation and reacted badly, but so did he."

Letting go of his hand, Emile smiled. "And maybe he’ll change his mind. Maybe you'll be able to forgive him completely. Maybe that will restore your stamps." His words would've been comforting, maybe, except Roman was sure he didn't think any of those maybes were likely.

"That's a lot of 'maybes,'" Roman said, narrowing his eyes. "And what about you? Are you just helping a stranger? Are you my jaws of life?"

Emile laughed, and Roman felt something, a little twinge in his stomach. "I'd rather be your friend. I’ve found it helps to have someone who understands when things have gone so wrong. But you get to decide, I’ve imposed myself on you enough. This is your recovery and you get to decide when you’re ready. I sure didn't hop into a wheelchair the day after my accident."

Roman laughed. And, for the first time in months he realized how fake his laughs around his soulmate were. Hearing the real sound for himself again reminded him of something he'd forgotten. "I think I need a friend." He pulled out his phone, wincing a touch at Sheriff Woody stars and boots on his case.

Emile’s face lit up and he pulled his phone out as well. Roman smiled at the Buzz Lightyear logo on the case.

Taking Roman's number, Emile looked up and smiled as he sent a message. They sat knee to knee as Roman read the text. "Well, you've got a friend in me!"

#sanders sides #soulmate au #roman sanders #emile picani #roman x emile #disability #wheelchair #angst #happy ending

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thetravelerwrites · 4 years

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Geyarajan (Part 3) Lemon

Rating: Explicit Relationship: Female Human/Male Gandharva Additional Tags: Exophilia, Gandharva, Childhood Sweethearts, Puppy Love, Sex, Attempted Murder Words: 6252

The finale of @floral-and-fine‘s commission! After finally finding Geyarajan, he pushes the reader away, still believing she betrayed him. It takes the failure of a spell for Geyarajan to realize his true feelings. Please reblog and leave feedback!

The Traveler's Masterlist

You rushed forward to embrace him as best you could with your arms bound, but he jumped back as if you were diseased, his wings flaring.

“Don’t touch me!” He spat. His voice had deepened tremendously, giving him an authoritarian quality. You knew he’d be angry, but you didn’t think those would be the first words you’d heard from him in over a decade. You swallowed back your tears and the lump in your throat.

“I’m sorry,” You said in a small voice, backing up and shrinking in on yourself. “I’m sorry.”

“Why have you come here?” He asked in an accusatory tone.

“To pay for my mistakes,” You said, looking down at your feet. “If I hadn’t been so careless, your people wouldn’t have suffered so much.”

“It’s rather late to come to us with your apologies,” He snarled.

“I’d have come sooner, had I been able,” You replied, continuing to look down and not meet his eye.

There was a moment of silence. “Why aren’t you looking at me?” He asked. It was the first time he sounded curious rather than incensed.

“Because I don’t deserve to,” You said. It was getting harder to hold the tears back.

Another silence. “This isn’t like you. You weren’t this… demure or… soft-spoken when last I knew you.”

“I was a child when last you knew me,” You replied. “I’m a different person now, a person that you don’t know anymore.”

“Hmm,” He mused. “Fair enough. I didn’t know you then, either.”

A tear slipped from your eye and fell to the ground. “I never lied to you, Rajan. Not once.”

“Don’t call me that,” He said sharply. “That’s not my name. It was never my name. We’re not children anymore.” With that, he walked out, throwing your tray to the ground. His parents followed him, locking the door behind him, and you fell to the straw and wept.

The entire point in coming here was to atone, even if that meant dying for it. Besides, there was nothing to go back to. Your parents didn’t understand you. You had no friends besides the ones in the city who were imprisoned, like yourself now. Raja--Gaveshan hated you. You had a few people among the gandharva who you might call allies, perhaps even friends, but whether the recall spell failed or succeeded, there was no telling if they could help you in any way.

You fell into despair and stopped caring for yourself, insomuch that you could in a cell with your hands tied. You no longer ate the food that was brought. You didn’t even look to see who brought it. The bindings were cutting into your wrists and you could feel the rub burns starting to blister, but you didn’t fuss about it or tell your guards. You had resigned yourself to death, so there was no sense in it, really. There was no point in anything anymore.

The next day, around lunchtime, the door opened and stayed open. You were lying on the bare ground, facing the wall, and couldn’t see who it was. You didn’t care who it was.

“They tell me you’re not eating,” Gaveshan said. “Why?”

You didn’t answer or acknowledge him in any way.

“Hey,” He said, prodding you with what felt like one of his clawed feet. “Are you dead?”

“Stop it,” You said flatly, not moving.

“Are you sick? What’s wrong with you?”

“Nothing’s wrong with me,” You told him. “I submitted myself to your people fully expecting to die. I’m just preparing for the inevitable.”

“Die?” He echoed. “Why would you die?”

“Several of your people were murdered by humans because of me,” You said. “Why wouldn’t you kill me?”

“You admit that you told the humans about us?” He said, his voice hardening.

“No,” You said, finally cajoled into sitting up and looking at him more out of annoyance than any other reason. “I told you, I’ve never said a word about your people. I don’t remember anything.”

“Liar,” He said, his face tight with distrust.

You sighed. “Think what you want to, Gaveshan, but go think it somewhere else. I’m tired.” You laid back down.

He was silent for a moment. “You really came here thinking you were going to die? Why would you do that?”

“People died because I couldn’t climb a tree properly,” You said. “There must be penance for that.”

“Wait,” He said, his voice changing abruptly. “You think you’re responsible for all of this because you fell out of the tree?”

“If I hadn’t fallen, I wouldn’t have broken my leg, you wouldn’t have had to carry me to your home, and people from my village wouldn’t have followed us there. I was careless and your people paid the price.”

He sat down on the ground next to you, staring at you as if trying to figure out a puzzle.

“So if you didn’t tell the humans, why did you run?” He asked.

“What are you talking about?” You asked, looking up at his face from where you lay.

“I came back to confront you again about a month later and you were gone,” He said. “You ran.”

“You think I had any control over that?” You retorted. “I was a kid and subject to my parents wishes. And, might I remind you, my leg was broken. I literally had no way to stop them. I didn’t want to leave. I wanted to find you and try to get you to listen to me, but they wouldn’t listen to me, either. No one was listening, so I just stopped talking. I think that’s part of why I went to the arena to talk to the fighters. They were the only ones happy to talk to me.”

“You found Aashiyana there?” He asked.

“Yes,” You replied. “I pulled every string I could to get her out of there. People with wings should never be in cages.”

“I got a chance to talk to her this morning, finally. The council has been interrogating her for a day and a half. She told them of your rescuing her. She believes your story.”

“It’s not a story, it’s the truth, and I’ll keep saying that until you believe me, too,” You said.

“Why is my belief so important to you?” He asked, looking away.

You took a big, deep breath and sighed sadly, rolling back over to face the wall, fighting tears. “You know why, Gaveshan.”

He was quiet for a few minutes, and you could hear him shifting and shuffling. You wished he would just leave.

“There’s blood on the floor,” He said with a voice that was hard to parse. “Are you injured?”

“Oh,” You said, looking at where your hands were tied. “The bindings have cut into my skin.”

“Why didn’t you say anything?” He said, standing up and coming around to inspect the wound.

“Because I didn’t think you’d give a shit,” You replied.

He sighed sharply in irritation. “Here.” He gently took your hands and began to untie the bindings. “Don’t be so stubborn.”

“You’re one to talk,” You said.

He snorted. “Hold on, I’ll get some salve for the blisters.”

“Why? Why do you care? Just leave it.”

“Don’t be stubborn,” He said again as he ducked out of the hut.

You were feeling… very confused. Why was he treating your wounds? Why did he care that you weren’t eating? Why was he even talking to you?

He returned shortly with a pot of salve and bandages and began gingerly applying it to the wound. You watched him do it, watching him carefully wrap your wrists with the bandages, and it reminded you of when the two of you were kids, how kind and sweet he was. Your heart felt like it was drowning for what you had with him, and what you lost.

“You’re crying,” He said. “Am I hurting you?”

“No,” You said, your voice breaking. You didn’t attempt to stem the flow.

“Are you scared because you still think you’re going to die?”

“No.”

“Then why are you crying?”

“I don’t know.”

His hands stilled, holding your wrists. “What happened to you? You’re so… sad now.”

“I’ve had people’s deaths on my conscience for the last ten years,” You replied. “That might make most people a little bit sad.” You shrugged, not looking at him. “My best friend hates me. People think I’m weird and poke fun at me. My parents think I’m crazy.” You shook your head and sighed. “Maybe I am.”

“Aashiyana told me you helped her escape,” He said. “That you risk imprisonment if you return home.”

“I left with no plan to return,” You said. “I accept whatever fate the council decides, even if the decision is death.”

“Are you so eager to die?” He asked softly.

You didn’t answer right away. “What do I have to live for?”

“You… you shouldn’t… just… give up,” He said haltingly. He grabbed your arms, gripping them so tight that it bordered on painful. “This isn’t like you! You never gave up when we were kids! You would race me even knowing you’d lose! You rose to any challenge I gave you!”

You pulled you hands out of his. “It’s like you said, Gaveshan. We aren’t children anymore.”

“So you won’t even fight for yourself?” He asked, his voice rising. Did he sound anxious?

“Fight for what?” You asked in return. “I came here to submit to judgment, not to argue. I’m guilty. I deserve punishment. It doesn’t matter that I never said a word about the colony, it was still destroyed because of me. Your people deserve justice and I’ve delivered myself for that reason. Now please just leave me alone.”

He was quiet for a long, long moment, his breathing drawn out and even.

“I could swear,” He said quietly, as if to himself. “I could almost swear you really believe what you’re saying.”

You rolled your eyes and sighed heavily. You lied back down and turned your back to him. “Go away.”

“I brought you a carrot stew,” He said, getting up and heading to the door. “I know you like carrots. You should eat it.”

“I don’t like carrots anymore. And I’m not hungry,” You said.

“Don’t be stubborn, Primrose,” He said as he walked out.

The sudden use of his old nickname for you felt like a stab to the heart, like he was using it as a weapon to hurt you, stinging your eyes to tears again. Did he really hate you enough to hurt you that deeply with such casual indifference?

You didn’t eat the stew.

The next morning, the council reconvened to watch the recall spell to be performed. Elder Pashanda wasn’t happy about having to perform the spell in the first place, but he had been overruled.

You were directed to sit in a chair in the middle of the council room with only the council members in attendance, observing the spell. Other observers had been barred for this phase of the interrogation. Elder Mari examined you prior to the spell, noting that you’d lost a little bit of weight and asking if you felt well enough to conduct the spell. You replied that you were fine and that you just wanted to get it over with. She eyed you shrewdly, but allowed the spell to commence.

Before it could, however, the door to the council room opened and Gaveshan strode in.

“Gaveshan!” Elder Pashanda exclaimed, his face surprised and angry. “What do you think you’re doing?”

“The spell isn’t necessary,” He said. “She’s not at fault. I am.”

There was a murmuring from the council as your jaw dropped, turning in your chair to as best you could to gawk at him.

“What the hell are you saying?” Elder Pashanda said. “Don’t be ridiculous.”

“I goaded her into climbing the tree,” He said, coming to stand next to the chair to which you’d been tied. “She fell because of me. I carried her back to the colony on foot. They followed me, not her. Hell, I decided to stay and befriend her that day in the woods when I knew it was our law that I should have run away. It’s my responsibility. You shouldn’t punish her. Punish me instead.”

“Nonsense!” Elder Pashanda said. “Gaveshan, leave here at once! You’re disrupting the council.”

“You understand that if you’re found guilty, the sentence is banishment,” Elder Mari said.

“I do,” Gaveshan said, bowing his head. “I am prepared to accept that, if it is the ruling of the council.”

“What are you doing?” You whispered up to him.

He looked down at you and smiled, a real, true, beautiful smile. The first you’d seen on his face since you were children. You felt the tears again, but this time, they were happy tears. You smiled back up at him.

“No!” Pashanda said. “It is her fault! She is to be punished!”

“We haven’t come to that decision yet, Beast Elder,” The speckle-feathered man said. “In fact, I think it’s best if you sit this one out, as it now directly involves your son.”

“That’s absurd!” He said, his face contorting.

“Father, please,” Gaveshan said, putting an arm on his shoulder. “Be reasonable.”

“Reasonable?!” He spat, rounding on Gaveshan. “Do you know what you’re saying? You’re talking about potentially never seeing your family or people ever again! Doesn’t that bother you?”

“Of course it does!” Gaveshan shouted back. “But I have just as much culpability as she does! It could be argued that I’m more responsible, since I was the one who brought her back to the colony in the first place!”

“You were a child!”

“So was she! She was even younger than I was, and she was injured because of me!” You shot back. “Why are you holding her to a different standard? Because I’m your son? Or because she’s human?”

His pale father got very red in the face. He filled his lungs to bellow something, but before he got the chance, speckled-feather Elder stopped him.

“Pashanda,” He said authoritatively. “This is now a clear conflict of interest. You are removed from the council for this trial.”

“I refuse!” He said. “We haven’t even voted on it!”

“It’s not up for debate,” Elder Jaya replied. “It’s the law.”

“You can’t put my son on trial just because he’s been bewitched by this woman! I should never have agreed to let him speak to her privately!”

“It was the council’s decision to let him do so in an attempt to jog her memory, since you have been so opposed to doing the recall spell,” Elder Mari said, her eyes narrowing with suspicion. “Though, I must admit your reluctance has given me many questions.”

“Please,” You said, speaking up. “Just do the spell. Then you’ll know if I’m telling the truth or not. I want to know the truth. There are four days of missing time that I lost, and I want to know what happened in those days.”

“No!” Pashanda said. “I will not do the spell if my own son plans to take the blame regardless of the result.”

“Luckily, I know how to do the spell myself,” Gaveshan said. “You taught me your craft well, didn’t you, Father?”

Pashanda went from very red to very white.

“Elder Pashanda,” Elder Jaya said in a tone like an iron vice. “I suggest you sit down and stay silent, unless you’d like to find yourself in that chair under interrogation in her place.”

Her fellow elders murmured agreement. Pashanda took his seat at the head of the council, gripping the table with white knuckles.

“Alright, Gaveshan,” Speckled-Elder said, sitting back down. “Conduct the spell.”

Gaveshan nodded. The first thing he did was untie you.

“Why?” You asked him as he did so. You were having trouble processing what had just happened and it was the only word you could verbalize.

“I thought a lot about everything you said,” He replied. “I just couldn’t understand why you’d come here and submit to judgment but still lie about telling the humans about the colony. I mean, if you came believing you were going to die, you had nothing to gain from lying. The only thing I could conclude is that you were telling the truth. You always had been.” He smiled sadly. “I’m sorry, Primrose. I should have had more faith in you.”

The tears fell freely down your face. “I forgive you. Of course I forgive you.”

“I don’t deserve your forgiveness, but I am grateful.” He took your hand and squeezed it. “Let’s begin. Don’t be afraid. It’ll be uncomfortable at times, but I’ll be here.”

You wiped your tears and nodded.

A table was set next to your chair, and a tray with different components was placed upon it. Gaveshan poured a fruity smelling drink into a simple wooden cup from a decanter.

“This is blessed ritual wine,” He said. “I made it myself.”

“You make wine?” You said, smiling.

He smiled in return. “Just for rituals. Drinking wine for pleasure is prohibited within settlements. Inebriation and great heights don’t mix.”

You nodded understanding. “So is this designed to help me feel spiritual?”

“Partly,” He said, smiling. “It’s also partly to calm your nerves and occupy you while I get the ritual ready.” He dipped a finger into the wine of the decanter and drew a sigil on your forehead. “This is really the important part, as far as the actual spell goes.”

“Ah,” You said, sipping the wine. You weren’t much of a drinker, but this was really good. He placed herbs into a censer and lit it, letting the scent of the burning spices and flowers fill your nose. As you continued to sip the wine, you began to feel sleepy. You weren’t sure if this is how it was supposed to feel, but you didn’t want to interrupt Gaveshan while he was working.

Few more minutes passed, and your heartbeat began to surge. You felt hot, like you should be sweating, but you weren’t. Your mouth had gone dry and your vision was tunneling out. Before you could say anything, you felt yourself slip out of your seat and everything went black. The last thing you saw was the entire room rise to their feet, several of them rushing toward you. Gaveshan dropped what he was holding and fell to his knees to catch you before you hit the ground.

The next few days were a haze of pain and visions. You couldn’t tell what was real and what were dreams. You could hear screams, and it didn’t occur to you that it was your screams. You saw Gaveshan there beside your bed whenever you opened your eyes. At times he was the grown Gaveshan, and sometimes he was Geyarajan, the friend of your childhood. Both versions held your hand and talked to you. You couldn’t tell if the conversations were real or not.

“I’m sorry,” He said mournfully one night. He kept vacillating between the older and the younger versions of himself. “I didn’t mean for that to happen. I never meant to hurt you, I swear.”

“I know that,” You said, your voice raspy from the dryness. “Don’t be sorry.”

“I would never forgive myself if you died because of me,” He told you. “You’re my best friend.” He clutched your hand and kissed your knuckles, tears streaming down his face. “I love you, Primrose.”

You touched his cheek with your fingertips. “I love you, too, Rajan.”

Blackness took you again and you slept.

When you were finally back to true awareness, you woke up in a hut. From the light coming in through the door, you guessed it was either late evening or early morning. Gaveshan was sitting propped up on a stool, sleeping. A little bit of drool was dripping from the corner of his mouth and he snored a little. You smiled at him fondly. It reminded you of the night the two of you went swimming at midnight, and he fell asleep in the moss waiting for his feathers to dry. You two may be grown ups now, but it seemed not everything had changed.

Elder Mari entered the hut with a bowl in her hands and a towel over her shoulder.

“Ah, are you awake?” She asked.

“I think so,” You said. “What happened?”

As she stepped in, Gaveshan woke up. He peered around him groggily, but came to alertness as soon as he saw you focused on his face.

“Are you alright?” He asked, taking up your hand. “Are you yourself again? You’ve been having fits for days.”

“What happened?” You asked again.

“You were poisoned,” Elder Mari said grimly. “Belladonna. The inside of your cup was lined with it. It didn’t help that your stomach was empty, so there was nothing to dilute it.”

“They thought it was from the wine at first,” Gaveshan said. “They suspected me. I was close to being locked up before my father confessed.” He grimaced. “I guess that’s is how you must have felt when I accused you.”

“It doesn’t feel good, does it?” You asked softly.

He shook his head and avoided your eye. “Apparently he had done it before when you were a child but miscalculated the dosage and didn’t give you enough to kill you. It’s why you couldn’t remember anything.” He scrubbed his face and groaned in aggravation. “I can’t believe my father tried to kill you. Twice!”

“Why?” You asked, shocked.

“According to him,” Mari said. “It was because he perceived you as a threat, both to his family and the colony. He told us that he was taking you back to the humans, but his real plan was to poison you and drop you somewhere in the forest where no one would find you. Apparently he hadn’t given you enough and you started hallucinating, screaming and becoming combative. He didn’t know what else to do, so he dropped you at the edge of the forest and fled. How you got to the village is still a mystery. You may have walked there, unable to feel the pain of your leg in your delirium.”

“Gods,” You breathed. “What will happen to him?”

“Well,” Mari said. “Our culture doesn’t believe in the death penalty, so he will be banished, which for our kind is a sort of death sentence. We’re not sure of the extent of Hemakshi’s involvement, but we know she was at least aware of his actions. Her punishment is still being determined.”

Gaveshan’s face was as hard as stone. “Is it my fate for everyone I love to betray me?”

“I didn’t,” You told him softly, brushing your hand against his cheek.

He leaned into your touch and wrapped his fingers around your wrists gently. “No, you didn’t. And I’m sorry I spent almost half my life believing you did.”

“It’s alright,” You said. “It’s in the past.”

He sighed and kissed your palm. “I’m ashamed of the damage my family has caused, to you and to the colony. How can I show my face after this?”

“It’s not your fault,” Mari said. “You are not responsible for their misdeeds.”

“Even still,” He said. “Life has changed for me. Again. I don’t know what I’ll do now.”

“You could take your father’s place as master sorcerer,” Mari said.

He shook his head with a frown. “That was never my calling. And I don’t want his title, either way.”

“Whatever you decide,” Mari said. “The council has cleared both you and the young woman here of any wrongdoings. She is free to leave. Or to stay.”

Gaveshan looked at you pensively. “Would you like to stay here?”

You weren’t sure. “I’d like a nice hot bath, honestly, before I go making any decisions. I’m so sore and I feel awful.”

“I’m sure,” Mari said. “You spent a good amount of time screaming and thrashing and talking to no one. You wouldn’t eat or take water. You nearly died.”

You stared at her. “That’s not comforting.”

“It’s the truth,” She said. “I figured, after everything, that would be something you could appreciate.”

“True,” You said, sighing.

Mari bathed you privately later and helped you relieve yourself since you were too weak to go on your own, which was a little embarrassing. Afterward, Gaveshan came back with your meal. You were surprised to learn he had cooked all of your meals while you’d been on the island.

You spent a week in recovery, and Gaveshan was with you the entire time. Now that he believed you, it was as if the two of you had never been apart. You just talked; talked to each other as if no time had passed between you. You told him about the city and the arena, and he told you about the aftermath of the colony’s destruction. It was natural an effortless.

“So, what will you do now?” He asked, sitting next to your cot and toying with a strand of your hair. “Will you go back to the city?”

“I can’t,” You replied. “I’m a fugitive.”

“Won’t you miss your parents?”

“My parents are good people, but we’ve never been on the same page, really. I honestly think this would be better for all of us.”

“You could stay here,” He ventured. “Stay with me.”

“It’s sort of my only option,” You said. “It’s not a bad option, don’t get me wrong, I’d love to stay with you no matter what. But… I don’t know if I could feel at home here. I have a few friends among your people, and I’m sure most of the folks here would treat me kindly, but… I don’t know.”

“Hmm,” He said, stroking your hair away from your face. “Maybe there’s a third option.”

“What is it?” You asked.

He sat back and studied your face with a smile. “Do you feel up to taking a short trip with me?”

“Where to?”

“One of the smaller satellite islands,” He said. “I want to show you something.”

“Okay,” You said. He stood and held out his hands for yours. You took them and followed him out of the medicine hut.

He took you out to the edge of Beast Island, where you could see three other small islands about a stone’s throw away. He pointed to the closest one.

“That’s where I grow the fruit and make the wine,” He said. “It’s my own little safe place. I go there for the quiet and to be alone. I’ve never let anyone come near it.” He picked you up bridal style and said, “Do you trust me?”

You rolled your eyes and bonked his shoulder. He laughed.

“Silly question, I guess.” With that, he launched himself off the cliff and let his wings unfurl, sliding effortlessly over to the island, settling down on the ground before you could count to ten. “There. Made it in one piece. Nothing broken.”

You climbed down and gave him a sour look. “Not funny.”

He grinned. “Sorry.” He took your hand and led you into the brush. After a few minutes, the grass and shrubbery opened up into a clearing full of grape vines on trellises made of whippy branches, along with young fruit trees, berry bushes, and crates with wine that was aging. There was also a smallish hut where you surmised Gaveshan stayed when he was tending his crops.

“You did all this yourself?” You asked.

“Yes,” He said. “I really enjoy it. It’s the only thing that’s brought me contentment since the colony’s ruin and our people’s division. And…” He cleared his throat and looked away. “After you disappeared.”

“I didn’t disappear, I moved,” You said. “It wasn’t my choice.”

“See it from my perspective,” He said. “My family, my people as a whole, are in the midst of a tremendous upheaval, grieving and homeless, our lives turned upside down. The only constant I had left is suddenly gone, and it was as if I had lost the last thread holding my entire world together.”

“But you hated me,” You said.

He shook his head. “I was upset and didn’t know what to believe. I only knew what my parents told me. They forbade me from going back to see you, and we had to relocate, so it took time before I could get away. When I finally did, I went to talk to you, but you were gone.” He paused and looked out over the crops. “Do you know what Gaveshan means?”

“No.”

“The Searcher,” He said. “When I couldn’t find you, even though I was angry, I looked for you. I went to every human and non-human town I could, looking for you. I went to every settlement, every family cluster, every small out of the way place, hoping I’d find you. I never thought to look in the city. Even if I had, it was too far to fly. I was angry, but…” His voice broke. “I wanted to know you were alright.” He stared at his feet, his lip trembling.

“Gaveshan, look at me,” You said, putting a hand under his chin. He looked at you with sorrow and regret, his eyes swimming with tears.

“Would you… could you call me Rajan?” He asked quietly. “Please?”

You pressed your forehead against his and smiled. “Only if you’ll sing to me.”

He laughed self-consciously through his tears. “It’s been some time since I last sang anything. I may not be very good anymore.”

“I don’t care,” You said. “I just love the sound of your voice.”

He chuckled and pulled you in, wrapping his arms around your waist. You threw your arms around his neck, and while he sang, the two of you danced in place. He pulled you close, singing sweetly into your ear, the warmth of his body radiating into yours. His voice was every bit as beautiful as it had been when he was a boy.

When he was finished, you kissed him. It was natural and wonderful and as sweet as you remembered. Except… it wasn’t as innocent as it used to be. It was deeper and searching and testing. His grip on your body intensified and his breathing became faster and shallower. Whatever chemicals that were rushing through his body, you could feel them coursing through your veins as well. His hands roamed your body, looking for a way to free you from your clothes. He grunted in frustration.

“These things are highly impractical,” He said, tugging at your bodice.

“Not when it’s cold out,” You said with a laugh. “Come on.”

You took him by hand to the hut and opened the door. It was small and cozy, with a cooking pit in the middle of the room and a pile of furs that he slept on in the far corner.

“I suppose you’re used to something far grander than this,” He said, but not in a haughty way, just stating a fact.

“Grand is overrated,” You said. “This is perfect.”

He smiled and kissed you again, leading you to the furs. You instructed him to sit and began to undress. You made a little bit of a show of it, not sure if he would get anything out of that since his entire culture didn’t wear clothing.

You shouldn’t have worried. Halfway through, his cock was standing to attention from a slit in his groin and he gazed at you hungrily. When you’d shed all of your garments and stood naked before him, he held out a hand for you. You took it and knelt down where he sat, pressing your lips to his. He grabbed you suddenly, making you giggle, and placed you underneath him. Your heart began to pound with instinctual fear, but you tried to push it down.

“I can feel your heart trying to escape your chest,” He said, kissing your neck. “Are you alright?”

“Just nervous,” You told him. “First time and all that.”

He perched up on his hands and looked down. “You waited for me?”

You chuckled. “I was the weird kid. It wasn’t so much that I waited than no one would have me. And I wasn’t looking, honestly.”

You didn’t ask if he had waited for you. It didn’t matter, he was with you now. The past was the past. It was time to begin considering the future, which was something you hadn’t thought possible before.

You felt his length nudging you from below, and a stab of nervousness hit you again, but you wanted this badly. You opened your legs wide and ran your fingers through his hair. He kneaded and massaged your breasts with one hand while propping himself up on the other. His head bent down and his tongue came out, flicking over the nipple and you sighed, gripping his hair tighter.

He sucked your nipple into his mouth and reached down with his free hand, slicking it down with your natural lubricant. You didn’t realize how wet you had gotten until he touched you and two of his fingers slipped right in. You gasped at the unfamiliar sensation, but it wasn’t painful.

“Are you alright?” He asked, studying your face.

“Yes,” You replied breathlessly.

“Have you touched yourself before?” He asked.

“Not like this,” You told him.

“I’ll be careful, then,” He whispered, kissing your ear, cheek, and corner of your eye. He sat up and slowly moved his fingers in and out, watching your expression for discomfort. You pet your fingers down his chest and stomach muscles, biting your lip. He moved to sit beside you so that you could touch him, while using three of his fingers to circle your pearl, rubbing back and forth slowly, but gaining speed as he went on. You reached across and took his organ in your hand, stroking it experimentally. He seemed to like it, biting his own lip and smiling at you.

A few minutes of teasing each other passed quite nicely, and you reached for him, more than ready. He laid himself on top of you and slicked himself down with your wetness, positioning himself and sliding slowly inside you. There was a pressure from the width of him that was slightly uncomfortable, but it didn’t hurt. His body was flush with yours as he pulled himself into and out of you. You enjoyed the weight of him on your body, the friction of where the two of you were joined slowly wore away at the discomfort until a swelling pleasure took its place.

He kissed your lips and neck and chest as he thrust, carefully at first, but as your body became less tense and more receptive, he sped up and thrust with more confidence. He listened to you, encouraged by the little sounds you made. You wrapped your arms around him, gripping his back, your fingers curling, threading through the feathers of his back, his wings unfurled behind him.

You felt a gush of fluid flow out of you, and you looked down, frowning. That had never happened before.

“Sorry,” You said.

“No, no,” He said. “That’s good. It happens, usually when you’re enjoying yourself. You are, aren’t you?”

“Yes, I am,” You assured him. “It feels nice.”

“It gets better,” He said, pushing deeper. He put an arm under your knee and pushed it up, allowing him to get a better angle and rub against that sweet spot much easier. You moaned in surprise pleasure. Spurred on, he quickened his pace.

It took no time at all in this position for you to reach your peak, and you screamed out loudly as it came. Bless this island for being so far away from the main one.

He hadn’t finished yet and was going at a frenetic pace. He managed to pull another one from you before he gritted his teeth, grunted over and over, and released inside you, his entire body tensing and jerking.

Finally, he collapsed onto you, flapping his wings weakly to fan your overheated bodies. The breeze was actually very nice. He moved to the side of you and pulled you close to him as the two of you caught your breath.

“So,” You said eventually. “You said something about a third option. Is this little piece of heaven what you meant?”

“Not exactly,” He said. “I started making wine for ritual purposes, but there aren’t nearly enough rituals for the amount I make. I was thinking of maybe going to the mainland and opening a vineyard. Maybe actually sell it for a profit. I’d still send some to the colonies for ritual purposes, but it’s a shame to let so much of it go to waste.”

“Whoa,” You said. “That’s… a really good idea. Do you have any idea where you’d go?”

“I made some friends on the mainland in my search for you,” He said. “A family that’s mixed, humans and non-humans. I mentioned it to them once in passing when I was visiting and they said if I was ever serious, they’d help me get started.” He sat up and looked down at you. “Is that something you’d like to do with me?”

You smiled at him. “I’d follow you anywhere. Should you change your name again, since Gaveshan doesn’t suit you anymore?”

“I think I’m going to go back to Geyarajan,” He said with a grin. “I have a feeling I’ll have a lot to sing about from now on.”

Since my work is no longer searchable, please do me a favor and reblog this story if you enjoyed it. Help me reach a wider audience! To help me continue creating, please consider buying me a Kofi, becoming a Patron, or donating directly to my PayPal!

Thanks for reading!

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haberdashing · 4 years

Text

Open Up My Eager Eyes

TMA fic set just after MAG 168. Jon and Martin have an important talk about what once was and what might have been.

on AO3

They didn’t speak much right after Jon returned, but the tension in the air was palpable as they made their way forwards, the only sounds that of their footsteps crunching against what passed for ground here and the whispers of the dying.

Eventually, Jon couldn’t stand it anymore, so he stopped walking, turning towards Martin as he said, “Can we... let’s talk.”

“About what?” Martin’s tone was a little sharp, but he stood still as well, looking Jon in the eye as he did so.

“You know, the whole jealousy thing.”

Martin’s face tensed up, and he made a show of breaking eye contact with Jon as he said, “I think we’ve talked quite enough about that already, thanks.”

“No, not... look, we already discussed how you’re jealous of Oliver Banks for, for some reason, and how I’m not going to kill a man just because you’re jealous of him-”

Martin scrunched up his nose in a way that would be patently adorable if he wasn’t currently trying to convince Jon to murder someone. “He’s not really a man anymore, though, is he? I mean, that’s kind of the point.”

“Martin, if just being an avatar of a fear god during, well, this, is enough for somebody to deserve getting killed in your mind... I’d like you to think a bit about what that implies about me.”

Martin blinked a few times and furrowed his brow, thinking for a few seconds in silence before letting out a long, solemn breath. “Alright, yeah, point taken.”

“Besides, if you just let me explain what actually happened, maybe you’ll understand that there’s really no reason for you to be jealous of...” Jon tried to hold back the laughter in his voice, but a bit of it sneaked through just the same as he finished, “...of Oliver Banks, of all people.”

“I mean, you did wake up for him and not for me, though. That’s just a fact.”

“It wasn’t... it wasn’t for him, is the thing. Because of him, maybe, but not for him.”

“Fine, because of him, then. But he- he still did something for you there, then. Something I clearly couldn’t.”

Jon threw his hands in the air. “Yes, because he was an avatar of death! Look, if you’re really that desperate to throw away your humanity, feel free to give Annabelle Cane a ring, I’m sure she’d be glad to hook you up-”

“Jon...”

“I... It was a joke. I was joking.” That wasn’t entirely accurate, truth be told--Jon kept wondering if that was Annabelle Cane’s endgame in all of this, recruiting Martin to her side--but that was a very different conversation to be had than the current one, and not one Jon terribly felt like delving into at the moment.

“Sure.” Martin sounded less than convinced.

“It’s not like I- I cared more about Oliver Banks than you, or anything like that, if that’s what you’re thinking! He just... let me know what I needed to do to wake up. Gave me information I had been lacking.”

“I thought you knew everything!”

“Now, maybe. And there’s still a few limits even now. But back then it... it wasn’t quite that simple.”

“So, what was this information he had and you didn’t?”

“He explained that, that what had happened... it left me trapped somewhere in between life and death-”

“You couldn’t have figured that much out for yourself?”

“Let me finish! At the time, I was... how did he phrase it... not human enough to die, but still too human to live. And I had to make a choice. Either I could pick my human side and just- just die, or I could give up on being human and wake up as a full-fledged avatar of the Beholding.”

“And you chose the latter?”

“I’m still here, aren’t I?” Jon let out a sharp bark of a laugh, looking around at the desolate, nightmarish landscape surrounding them before adding, “Knowing what I do know... I don’t think I made the right choice there.”

“Don’t say that!” Jon hadn’t been expecting the desperation in Martin’s voice, hadn’t been expecting him to reach out and clutch Jon’s arm as if he were going to fade away at any moment. “Don’t... don’t you dare say you want to die, alright?”

Martin looked like he was on the verge of tears, suddenly, and Jon pressed one hand against his cheek, ready to brush away any teardrops that might fall. “I mean, I don’t want to die now, I’m not suicidal. At this point, the damage has already been done. Dying now wouldn’t do anyone much good.”

Martin released his grip on Jon’s arm, but that sad, desperate look in his eyes remained all too present. “But you still think the world would be better off if you had died back then.”

“I mean...” Jon used his free hand to gesture towards the hellscape that surrounded them. “If I had, none of this would have happened. And the rest of the Archives staff would be free to leave, to escape from this mess. You would be free, Martin. Free to live your life without having to worry about any of this.”

“But without you.”

“Without me, and without being tied to an eldritch fear god, and without the apocalypse unfolding in front of you. That seems like more than a fair trade-off.”

Martin laughed, but it was a laugh more of sorrow than of levity, and Jon felt a single teardrop fall onto his finger. “After all this time, you still don’t get it, do you?”

“Get what?”

“None of that matters to me if you’re not there. The only reason my working with Peter Lukas became more than just- just a death wish was because you woke up, because I could see a life for myself outside of the Lonely with you. Maybe it’s selfish--no, strike that, I know it’s selfish--but I’d rather be beside you here and now than in a world where none of this happened, but you’re not there to share it with me.”

“...thank you, Martin.” Jon broke into a shaky smile. “But even if you’re fine with how things worked out, the others-”

“-are better off with you here too.”

Jon let the hand that had been pressed against Martin’s face fall to his side, tried not to focus on how it was now shaking due to some emotion he couldn’t quite name. “I don’t see how that works.”

“Alright, let’s go through this one by one. If you hadn’t woken up, Melanie would still have a- a ghost bullet from the Slaughter stuck in her leg, right?”

“That she wanted in there!”

Martin rolled his eyes. “Right, because that’s healthy. Look, I’m not saying the way you went about things was the perfect solution, but I do think it beats doing nothing and just letting her become an avatar of unthinking violence. And if you’d died, she’d have had to find another target for all that rage...”

“...fine, let’s say for the sake of argument Melanie’s better off. There’s Basira, too.”

“Basira...” Martin bit his lip for a moment the way he often did when he was deep in thought. “I’m not sure what she would have done if you had died, honestly, but I do know she wouldn’t have gotten Daisy back without you. You’re the reason she knew Daisy was in the Buried, and you’re definitely the reason Daisy got out of there.”

“Because I jumped into a coffin where the whole idea is that once you go in, you can never come out.”

“Again, not claiming it was a great plan or anything, but it did work. You saved Basira from not knowing what really happened, from mourning a woman who was still alive. And you saved Daisy from being stuck in the Buried literally forever.”

“And now she’s succumbed to the Hunt. I can’t imagine that’s much better.”

“You were down there with her. You tell me.”

Jon’s silence as he considered this was as much of a response as any words could have been.

“Basira might have stayed, too. It’s not like she had anything left outside the Archives, after all. And if she did? Maybe I would have actually gone along with Peter’s plan and killed Elias-” Jon gave Martin a look, and Martin corrected himself. “Killed Jonah Magnus, and then she would have died. Along with everybody else who works for the Institute. Rosie from the front desk, who always greets everyone with a smile? Dead. Sonja from Artefact Storage, who actually seems to accept all of this weirdness? Dead. Hannah’s children would lose their mother. Hundreds of families would be torn apart.”

“That’s still a lot less pain and suffering than I caused by reading that damn statement. You can’t claim the world wouldn’t be better off if I hadn’t done that.”

“Okay, no, I’m not gonna come out pro-apocalypse here or anything, but... think about it. Jonah Magnus was planning all of this for two hundred years. You really think he would have given up if you died?”

Jon hadn’t thought of that, and his vision blurred as he considered the implications there.

“He would’ve found another Archivist, he would’ve made them go through hell instead, and we’d end up back here soon enough. The only way he would’ve stopped is if I killed him, a-and then Peter’d have the Panopticon for whatever the hell he really wanted it for, and maybe it’s not the same, but you can’t tell me a world under Peter Lukas’ control would really be that much better.”

“...I suppose not, no.” Jon cleared his throat as he prepared to change the subject as smoothly as he could manage. “So. Oliver Banks did what he had to do, as did I, whatever the consequences. And I’m pretty sure either option of his choice would be better than being eternally stuck watching other people’s nightmares. You’ve seen for yourself that those can be... rough on me, and that’s after just one night.”

“That’s what it was like? Just- just six months of nonstop nightmares?”

And suddenly Martin’s arms were wrapped around Jon’s body, Martin tucking his head against Jon’s shoulder, and he could feel tears dampening his jumper. Jon did his best to reciprocate, to reach out to Martin in turn, and tears of his own began to fall as well.

“I’m sorry you had to go through that, Jon.”

“It’s fine-”

Martin looked up at Jon with a fiery gaze. “It’s not fine.”

“Well, it’s fine now. And- and maybe now you can see why I’m grateful to Oliver Banks for letting me know that I had options besides being stuck like that forever.”

“...yeah, I guess so. Though I still wish I could have been the one to help you.”

“I know you did everything you could.” Jon’s lips turned into a wry smile as he added, “I heard you, you know. The only other things I heard were statements--Oliver’s and Jonah’s, and please don’t tell me you’re going to be jealous of Jonah Magnus now-”

“Nah, I think we’ve got better reasons for killing him than that.”

“Quite.” Jon snorted. “But I heard you, at one point, too. Not a statement, of course. Just... you, talking to me. Begging me to come back. And I wanted to, I really did. But at that point, I didn’t know how.”

“...I didn’t know you heard any of that.”

“Well, we never really talked about it before. Understandably so; it’s not exactly the most pleasant of conversation topics.”

Jon leaned over, tilting his head just so before planting a kiss on Martin’s damp cheek.

“I’ve also never done that to Oliver Banks, so hopefully that will help you get over that jealousy of yours.”

Martin’s eyes were sparkling as he looked up at Jon, and only partially due to the half-formed tears still lingering in his eyes. “Hmm... I don’t know. Might need to give it a few more tries just to be sure.”

Jon raised an eyebrow as he broke into a wide grin, though he tried to keep his voice calm and level and faux-academic. “Ah, a firm believer in the scientific method. I can certainly respect that.”

And Jon kissed Martin again, and again, and again, until the kissing dissolved into a mutual fit of giggles and both their tears were well and truly gone.

#tma #tma spoilers #the magnus archives #the magnus archives spoilers #tma s5 #tma s5 spoilers #mag 168 #tma 168 #tma fic #tma fanfic #the magnus archives fic #the magnus archives fanfic #personal #my writing

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diyunho · 4 years

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The Joker x Reader - “ What Death Tastes Like” Part 5

Scarecrow’s daughter might be only 22, yet the terminal lung cancer she was diagnosed with six months ago didn’t discriminate against her age; the young woman didn’t show worrisome symptoms until it was too late. Y/N always had a fascination for the much older King of Gotham and despite the consequences, maybe it’s finally time to do something about it.

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4

The Joker feels his face covered in soft kisses and although generally speaking he loves being pampered, this particular instance awakens his self-defense mechanism.

“What time is it?” J mutters.

“Let me see,” you stretch for your phone. “12:03 am.”

“I should go,” he lifts his head up from the pillow and you pull him back in your arms, yawning.

“Stay for a little bit longer, ok?”

“Why?”

“I wish to hold on to my birthday present for a few more minutes,” Y/N pleads with the man she senses doesn’t want to be there anymore. “Don’t worry, I’m aware it was a casual affair,” your sad smile prompts a completely out of context answer:

“If you noticed I fell asleep, you should have woken me up!” The King of Gotham complains.

“I fell asleep also,” you snuggle to him and since J is suddenly quiet you whisper. “It was amazing.”

He keeps staring which makes you wonder what the hell is going on in his mind right now.

“At least for me,” you underline after you grasp he won’t comment on the subject; you didn’t have a clue he’ll convert the night you spent together into awkwardness for no reason. “Get out of my tent!” you snap at his behavior, irritated. “Get out!” you shove him and The Clown Prince of Crime doesn’t budge.

“Why are you mad?” he finally addresses the annoyed Y/N.

“Because you’re a jerk!”

“Come again?!” The Joker frowns and Scarecrow’s daughter has a clever response; she doesn’t share his genes for nothing.

“I would but I guess you’re not a big fan of us having sex a second time!!!”

“Wow!” J bitterly scoffs. “You sure can twist a guy’s words, huh? If you really must pry into my personal life, I’ll have you know that I’m not used with small talk afterwards, understand?”

While you wonder if he’s bluffing, you can’t help offer the benefit of doubt served with a side of insolence.

“Well, maybe if you would give it a try with someone that actually cares, you’d have stuff to discuss.”

“Miss Crane, what makes you think Mara doesn’t like me?”

The Joker expects a feisty reply to his audacious remark yet he receives a piece of sturdy logic instead:

“If she was crazy in love, she wouldn’t agree and with this on and off relationship you two have.”

J is obviously displeased at your statement thus Y/N has to unleash her creativity in order to push him comprehend what she’s aiming at.

“The problem is you don’t approach anything important, you only shut down everyone. Even Emma believes she’s not yours.”

The King of Gotham was preparing to lash out but your latest sentence totally catches him off guard.

“What do you mean?!”

“You never talk about her mother granted she keeps asking so Emma presumes you probably stole her from an individual you consider your enemy and raised her as revenge.”

“Huh?!” The Joker gets on his elbow, appalled. “She is my daughter!”

“I say that to her when she panics, unfortunately random people do look similar…,” you twirl a strand of his green hair around your fingers. “Steering clear from issues we’re uncomfortable with doesn’t necessarily result in a positive outcome,” Y/N concludes and her partner is not excited at all.

“Are you psychoanalyzing me?!”

“I’m a Crane,” you peck his lips. “It’s in our blood.”

A lot of thoughts rushing behind those blue eyes and you’re confident his patience is running low; add a short fuse to the combo and according to your flawless instinct J will bite soon.

“Take me for example,” you attempt to cram in the main point of your dialogue before it happens. “I don’t care you’re older, I fancy your company nevertheless: you’re super handsome plus emotionally unattractive…”

“I’m what?!” The Joker interrupts.

“Umm… emotionally unattractive?” you hesitantly repeat while watching him jump off the pillows and start to collect his clothes in the semi darkness.

“Serves me right for sleeping with somebody half my age!” he growls at the young woman realizing she upset him with her rant.

“So you’re 46?” you struggle to joke at his affirmation.

“Listen here, Miss Crane!” J dresses in a hurry, angry at your stunt. “If you imagine you figured me out, you didn’t!! Nobody fucks with me!” he violently kicks the mattress and you can’t avoid it:

“I think I just did. Literally.”

The hate in his demeanor makes you regret opening up; your goal was to imply you like him no matter what yet the aftermath is way off what you intended.

“I apologize, OK?” you sigh and reach your hand for his.

“I hope you perish!” he strikes your fingers with such brutality it stings. “You’re dying anyway but hopefully the Cromyxillium kills you faster!” The Joker unzips the tent and leaves a shocked Y/N breathless at his hurtful tirade.

“That’s all you got? Stupid old man…” you whimper and cuddle under the thin blanket with his cushion.

Grief is not the correct term to describe what you experience for the moment: a perfect birthday turned into exactly the opposite in a blink of an eye simply because The Joker proved once more he has no concept on how to handle dynamite; fire suits him better.

***************

Next morning, 10:14am

“Are you hot or cold?” your father inquires since your intravenous therapy commenced 10 minutes ago.

“No,” you gaze at the IV bag and Jonathan lingers by your bed, reminding his offspring about their plan.

“We’ll do 3 hours on, 3 hours off; I’ll monitor your vitals and if you feel strange alert me immediately, deal?”

You nod a yes and his perseverance in aiding you with your terminal cancer evokes a sincere confession:

“Daddy…Thank you for trying to save me…I’m sorry I’m a burden…”

“A burden?!” Scarecrow mumbles.

There are a million facts you should evoke, yet the predominant one keeps hunting you.

“You buried yourself in the lab because of me…and Evelyn left…”

“Evelyn and I broke up for various motives,” your parent grumbles. “Saying I immersed myself into working because of you hints that I was forced into it against my will which is not true. I did everything out of love… I can’t bear the idea of losing you,” he kisses your temple; you wrap your free arm around his neck, squeezing him tight.

“You’re the best dad; I’m lucky you’re my father. If I die… you think mom is waiting for me?...”

Jonathan Crane has the weird sensation he’s choking; his wife died after you were born due to leukemia, now their daughter is fighting for survival: she’s plainly the last fortress separating him from utter madness.

“I couldn’t save your mother, but I’ll be damned if I let you die kid,” he caresses your cheek. “She can wait; I bet she’s not eager to take you with her,” Scarecrow reassures his daughter. “Rest honey.”

“I will…” you consent and Emma barging in the bedroom with her duffle bag switches your attention.

“I’m here, I’m here!” she exclaims. “Traffic was horrible, bad accident on the freeway!”

**************

11 am

“Are you comfortable?” Emma checks with her friend, not entirely certain how to bring up a very delicate topic clouding her usually bubbly disposition.

“Of course,” you smile and she wiggles in her recliner. “Are you?” you wink at her visible restlessness as you attempt to lighten the atmosphere.

“Y/N…,” she taps the fluffy carpet with her feet. “Mmmm… last night after we returned from the river I dropped by to see how you’re doing and… I came to your tent…,” Emma pauses seeing the stupefied expression on your face. “I…I found my father sleeping in there with you…”

You lick your lips and strain to keep your calm even if your heart is pounding out of your chest.

“Did my dad take advantage of you?” she lowers her voice and you can tell she’s torn apart by the horrible notion.

“He didn’t,” you shake your head.

“Dumb girl…” Emma admonishes without any trace of resentment; what else can she articulate in these circumstances regardless?

“I can’t believe I’m inquiring… Did you use protection?”

“No…It just happened…”

“Oh my God!” the concerned judgement pressures you to continue:

“It didn’t end well so it’s fair to assume we’re not in any danger of me becoming your stepmom,” your tone diminishes and she leans over to scold when The Joker passes by the opened door without bothering to peek inside your bedroom; you didn’t spot him but Emma did.

“I’ll be back!” she hisses and you’re confused at her desire to leave you.

“Hey, where are you going?”

She ignores your question and races after The King of Gotham, catching up with him at the end of the long corridor.

“Dad!” Emma shouts and he turns around.

“Yeah?”

“What are you doing?!” she interrogates the clueless Joker.

“I’m meeting Crane. Is he downstairs?”

“In his lab compounding the next batch of Cromyxillium for Y/N,” she fumes at J’s impertinence. “Didn’t you forget something?”

He seems puzzled and Emma is not tricked by his deceiving performance.

“My best friend is in her quarters, uncertain if she’ll survive the cancer treatment. Are you pretending she doesn’t exist?”

“Meaning?” The Joker sneers.

“I know you slept with her!” the accusation follows instantly. “Don’t deny it! How could you take advantage of her?!”

The Clown Prince of Crime straightens his shoulders, aware he can’t negotiate his innocence out of this complicated riddle.

“I did not take advantage of her! How dare you accuse me of such low move?”

“You didn’t?” Emma closes the gap between them. “You know she has a crush on you and she’s vulnerable; what type of man would prey on that?!”

J is not thrilled with the innuendos and cuts her off:

“She basically begged for some and I obliged out of pity!”

Emma slaps him and The Joker gasps, enraged she had the audacity:

“Do that again and I’ll neglect you’re my daughter!” he growls and the serious threat doesn’t faze her.

“Hurt her more and I’ll forget you’re my father! If you are indeed my father,” she emphasizes while stomping away towards the kitchen.

“I am your father!” J simmers at her impeccable strategy: Emma is retreating to a different corner of the house giving him the opportunity to choose.

Who the heck knows if she’s actually his?

One thing is undeniable though: they share the same despicable temper.

****************

You discern The Joker in the doorway and your body stiffens; you stare at the TV screen wishing he’ll disappear.

“Where’s Crane?” J analyzes Y/N’s IV pole.

You don’t engage so his crankiness emerges.

“I suppose you didn’t flatlined yet!”

“Nope,” you grunt at the provocative declaration that served its goal: you did reply to The Clown’s rubbish.

“Where’s Crane?”

“I heard you the first time and I’m not sure why you focus your energy on a useless interrogation. You know where my father is!”

“Where?” The Joker’s vile attitude can’t compromise for less than instigating his fling.

“Please take your stuff that’s firm now but will get saggy in maximum 20 years and vanish!” the poisonous remark makes him groan.

“What stuff?!”

You check him out glaring at his mid-section before dismissing his presence.

“That’s the rudest fucking criticism ever!” The Joker barks and Y/N crabbily indicates:

“It’s not criticism, it’s reality! Gravity’s a bitch! Mara won’t mind, won’t she? After all, you two share a very special bond: on today, off tomorrow, hookup next week, take a break next month. Such dreamy relationship!”

“Do you have more derogatory references to my private life?!” J grinds his teeth ready to unleash several atrocities your way.

“No, too busy dying…” you show him the needle in your arm. “I don’t feel the pain from the medication burning my veins; I’m used with my sickness, with the ups and downs. What I do feel is the pain of being taken for granted.”

The Joker is not a fan of the insinuated context.

“You said no strings attached!” he stresses the lack of commitment consented the previous evening.

“You’re the one that came to me; I thought it meant you were accepting to be the center of my universe.”

J ogles the ceiling of Y/N’s bedroom and assembles a couple of harsh disclosures in his brain when her entitled smirk halts the project.

“You’re buying it, aren’t you?” you chuckle at his astonishment. “I’m just messing with you Mister Joker; who in their right mind would make you the center of their universe?! You have 10 seconds to leave, otherwise I’ll scream and security will come!” you shelter your head with the quilt so you don’t have to see his mug anymore.

No outpour of vexation from his part which is cool: means he bailed.

The blanket is slowly pulled until your eyes emerge; J hovers your face, pissed at the unwelcomed clash.

“I’m checking if you kicked the bucket; corpses are usually covered thus my dilemma.”

“Go away!” you advise. “Or I’ll scream!”

You inhale preparing to yell: The Joker didn’t predict you’d defy him and he swiftly kisses you in order to stop the sounds.

The door is cracked and Emma witnesses the scene, reckoning bizarre elements:

Her father holds grudges and was mad at Y/N earlier due to whatever happened yesterday; nevertheless he still kissed her.

On the other hand, you were definitely miserable after your escapade, yet you didn’t reject him.

Emma may not be informed about the entire story, but one detail is crystal clear: the future is far from being simple.

Also read: MASTERLIST

#the joker x reader #the joker fanfiction #the joker imagine #the joker jared leto #the joker suicide squad #the joker #joker #joker fanfiction #joker imagines #joker leto #joker suicide squad #mister j #Mistah J #dc #dcu

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roonil-wazlib-at-221b · 4 years

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A Handmaiden’s Lies: Part 2

Pairing: Tom Holland x Reader

About a year has passed since Tom last visited Avenge. He and his men spent quite a fair amount of time at Deesee, a neighboring kingdom known for mining precious jewels. In fact, they spent more time there than they normally did, so Tom cut their visit to the kingdom of Thanatoia short. It’s not like he and his men stick to a schedule or anything; they vaguely circulate between the three kingdoms to escape harsh winters and authority figures out for their heads.

It’s just that… well.

Not a day passed where Tom didn’t think of you. He was anxious and worried that something could happen to you and the way he’d find out is by waking up and discovering that the words on his forearm were gone. Or that you would find someone else and it would just be another cruel joke played by the universe to show Tom yet again that he is unlovable. Or that you would simply forget about him.

“Worrying is normal,” Haz told him again and again. “Soulmates aren’t meant to be apart for so long. It’s like how you would be worried for me if I was lost, only… worse.”

A lot worse, Tom had mentally agreed every time.

But now he’s back. Surely you’ll come to visit, right? You’ll hear about him and his men back in the kingdom you’re so protective of and you’ll come to check on them to make sure nobody’s misbehaving.

Right?

No.

A full week passes and nothing. Tom’s seething. Haz and Paddy let all the horses out of a rich man’s stable four days ago. Sam and Harry robbed a bank at gunpoint three days ago. William stole a carriage and Tomas crashed it yesterday.

Nothing.

And Tom’s livid. It’s been entirely too long and you’re ignoring him and he can hardly march up to the castle and demand to see you, can he? Especially because he doesn’t even know your name.

That’s a big part of why he’s angry. You know his. Tom hadn’t even bothered to ask you what yours is. So, really, if you decide to stay away for life, Tom can hardly stop you, can he?

So that is why he is walking up Iron Street, throwing Molotov cocktails at every carriage he sees.

Well, every empty carriage. You’re already going to be pissed about the property damage. Killing someone might be crossing the line.

Tom cheerfully lights another rag and hurls it at a red-and-gold carriage. How dare these people be wealthy when Tom and his men live in squalor. How dare these families be unbroken when his own parents told him he was unlovable at seven years old and left him and his brothers at an orphanage. How dare these couples be happy when Tom’s own soulmate wants nothing to do with him.

“That’s enough,” Z says at his side. “I’m sure she’ll get the hint.”

Tom snorts as he surveys the chaos. People running and yelling, carriages and carts going up in flames, and no one has the nerve to tell Tom to stop. Everyone knows by now that the Holland gang comes by every spring and they leave when they damn well please.

Someone shoves Tom from behind hard and he goes sprawling.

Already snarling, Tom jumps to his feet and turns around. His hands and knees sting from taking a fall on hard, unforgiving pebbles, and his pride is even more bruised but all that is forgotten when he sees who his assailant is.

“You call this a hint?” you snap at Zendaya with surprising ferocity.

“What’s your name?” Tom blurts out immediately. He might just die if you don’t transfer your attention back to him this very second.

Your mouth drops open wide and you just blink at Tom. Your hair is coming out of its braid and two pink spots of anger have appeared high on your cheekbones. You look simultaneously exactly like and nothing like the statue you’d been when Tom first met you. Finally you say slowly, “You destroy my kingdom with acts of terrorism, threaten my people’s lives, and steal our hard-earned money all because of a hissy fit that you don’t know my name?”

Tom winces. When you say it like that, it doesn’t sound as reasonable as it had been in Tom’s head. “I knew you’d never meet me otherwise.”

“Let’s go back to the camp,” Zendaya suggests. She doesn’t quail under the thunderous look you send her way. “That way you two can talk in private.”

Tom bites his lip anxiously. Thank God, but you say yes, and follow Zendaya as she leads the way out of the partially burnt capital city.

Tom studies your face as he walks. You’re just as beautiful as he remembers—more, even, if that is even possibly. But he also notices dark circles under your eyes, a bandage on your right pointer finger, and shoulders that slump slightly. The clues are faint but there and Tom’s chest floods with rage and concern at the thought of you being anything less than healthy.

“What happened to your finger?” he asks quietly.

You shake your head. “I just burnt it on a candle. It’s not a big deal.” Your hand goes to your skirt. Now Tom sees that there is something in a pocket he hadn’t noticed. He can see its outline as you walk.

His soulmate wouldn’t try to hurt him, Tom reasons. There’s no reason to be worried about something in your pocket that could be, quite literally, anything.

You manage the trek to the camp through the forest quite well, though you are breathing heavier by the time you arrive. Tom hopes he just imagines the condescending look Zendaya sends you. He wants the two most important women in his life to get along.

Haz looks up at your arrival. To Tom’s surprise, his face splits into a great grin when he sees you. You let out a squeak as his arms encircle your body.

Tom tries not to be jealous that his best mate is hugging his soulmate—actually lifting you into the air. He fails miserably and Zendaya snickers as she links hands with George.

“What are you doing?” you manage. Tom gets the feeling you’d be shoving Haz away if your arms weren’t trapped at your side with his.

“It’s a hug,” Harrison replies, setting you down. Confusion flashes over his features. “You do know what a hug is, don’t you?”

“Of course I do,” you scoff. “But I have no idea who you are other than the boy who tried to choke me last year. So—”

“You’re family now,” Harrison shrugs. For the second time in as many hours, you’re at a loss for words. “I’m Harrison, by the way.”

You ease your hand into his outstretched one and give it a loose shake. Tom doesn’t miss the way you drop Haz’s hand as quick as you can and then wipe your hand on your skirt. “Y/N.”

He scowls. What, you’re too good to shake hands with a criminal now? Your own soulmate is a gang leader.

Then again, he knows your name now.

“Where’s your friend?” Tomas asks loudly. He’d spotted you and, still bearing a grudge from last year when you’d called him some unsavory words, is more than happy to needle you. Unfortunately, his raised tone draws attention. Suddenly there’s a crowd watching your every move, eager to pounce on weakness after that commotion you’d caused last year.

Tom spots Paddy pushing his way through the crowd, eyes fixed solely on you with a thunderous expression on his face.

Shit. He doesn’t know you’re his soulmate. Tom hadn’t told anyone but Haz. He hadn’t really had a choice about that, too; an explanation was necessary when Haz had seen his arm. Something told Tom you wouldn’t want the news spread, considering you wanted him to leave so badly. Judging by your raised eyebrows and head tilted towards Haz, it was the right call.

“I’m quite flattered to see you all remember me,” you say. “I must have made quite the impression.”

Beside Tom, Zendaya snorts. “You’re not going to be able to handle this one, Tom. This is going to be hilarious.” Wait—does she know? Tom looks at Z, who winks. Shit.

“I must be extremely special,” you continue, “for a group of half-witted common thieves to remember me when I can hardly even expect them to remember what they had for breakfast.”

That does it. Paddy lunges at you as people start to shout. Then William, who was still struggling to understand what you said, sees Paddy lunge at you and bawls, “Fight!” He then proceeds to uppercut Tomas right into Sam, and it all gets worse from there.

“Aw, hell,” Tom mutters, surveying the camp full of brawling kids. He sighs and sidesteps around two camp girls who are screeching and clawing at each other. You’re being pinned by Paddy, his arm pressed against your throat. “Paddy, stop!” He orders sharply. His little brother looks up at that, scowling, and you use the distraction to bring your knee up between his legs and bite down on his arm. Paddy spits out some unsavory words and rolls off of you.

“You were goading them,” Tom remarks with a half-laugh as he surveys the camp. You huff, standing up and rubbing at your neck with a vague look of consternation.

“Hardly.” You smooth your hair with one hand. “I’d barely started. One couldn’t dare to call one step a footrace, would they?” Maybe you had more to say, but Paddy lunges for you again.

“Where’re your Chiefs now, handmaiden?” he goads. “Maybe you’re not as important as you think to your—”

Tom steps forward, teeth grinding both at the cynical anger that his brother—his subordinate—is disobeying his orders, and the instinctual rage that someone else is touching you, someone else is hurting you—but he jerks to a halt when an arrow seemingly sprouts from a tree beside Paddy. It misses Tom’s brother by less than an inch.

“I’d say they’re still here,” you grunt from where you are underneath Paddy, “but I think that message has been received.”

“Get off her, Paddy,” Tom orders. For once his brother listens.

How you manage to look dignified as you sit up, Tom doesn’t know. You rise to your feet gracefully, still looking like all this is beneath you even though you’ve got a bloody lip and a skinned elbow. Tom doesn’t think even Zendaya could look so cool under pressure. Then again, Z rarely has legendary, mystical Chiefs guarding her ass.

“What, you need the trump card to win a fight?” Paddy snarls. “Typical. You castle women—”

“Patrick goddamn Holland!” Tom barks. “Listen to me: back. Off. If you can’t listen to my orders then don’t follow us.”

“Where are you going?” the younger Holland asks, the shock of being referred to by his birth name distracting him from the attack mission he’d set himself on earlier. He has the decency to look sheepish when he runs his hand through his hair, transforming from a rabid wolf about to pounce to a curious dog.

“To my tent,” Tom answers, “to talk.”

“Why?” Paddy asks. It’s the straw that breaks the horse’s back. “What could she—”

“None of your goddamn business!” Tom snaps. “Now you fix up this mess you started while the grownups talk!”

A stony expression sets his jaw. Paddy spins on his heel. Tom almost calls out to him, especially when Zendaya remarks that his reaction had been a bit harsh.

“Holland set very clear instructions and the boy failed to follow them,” you counter as Paddy clears up the fighting. “Everyone must learn their place eventually.”

Tom glances at you but your expression is unreadable. It sounded like you were giving him a compliment. Or at least saying that Tom wasn’t in the wrong.

“But Paddy was right,” Harrison admits while holding up the entrance to Tom’s tent and ducking inside. “What is there to discuss? I mean, I’m sure we have extra tents but you’ll probably just sleep in Tom’s, right?”

Tom grimaces. So he hadn’t told Haz about you not being in a particular hurry to get together. The strangled choke you let out while entering doesn’t encourage him at all.

“I did not come here to discuss anything of that sort,” you say primly, making yourself at home by settling down and arranging your skirt. Instinctively everyone else sits down as well. You just have that ‘leader’ sort of aura. Tom doesn’t have to wonder why you’re the queen’s assistant.

“So it’s true,” Zendaya remarks. “I thought so when I saw the words on your arm, Tom, but I wasn’t sure.”

“Who exactly knows about our situation?” you ask with exasperation as you turn to Tom.

“I’m sorry, what’s the ‘situation’ here?” Harrison asks. Tom can see his friend’s face going thunderous but can’t catch his eye to tell Haz to stop, as he’s staring resolutely at you.

“I have a kingdom to run,” you snap. “Once things are calmer then maybe—”

“I’m sorry, isn’t it the queen’s job to run Marvel?” Zendaya interrupts. “You’re just her assistant.”

“I—we—it is a group effort. No man can take on a mountain.” You flick a piece of dirt off of your skirt.

“Oh, honey, you’re still bleeding,” Zendaya notices.

“What?” you put one hand to your lip. Your fingertips come away red. “Oh. I thought…”

“So you don’t care that Tom’s your soulmate?” Harrison interrupts. Zendaya dabs at your lip with one of Tom’s spare shirts she’d found lying on the floor. Tom is too invested in waiting for your answer to be embarrassed by his messy living space.

“Of course I do!” you reply, affronted. Tom sucks in a breath of air that is entirely too ragged and loud. “But as I’ve said before, I have bigger things to worry about.” You push Zendaya away.

Harrison casts his eyes to Tom, who’s sitting subdued in his chair, eyes on the ground. Because Tom sure won’t say it, Harrison tells you that excuse is a steaming pile of crap.

Your lip curls and eyes flash dangerously. Before Tom can say ‘Oh, no’ you’re on your feet. “I don’t care what a bastard reject boy thinks of me or my reasoning. Holland is not the only person whose feelings have to be considered in this situation. I am—”

Harrison spits on your skirt, no doubt regretting the hug he’d greeted you with. You close your eyes and look up, a muscle ticking in your jaw.

“Haz,” Tom warns. He lets the blond get away with a lot more than most, but he’s rapidly approaching a line it would be best not to cross.

“Dude, I cannot believe how bad your luck can be sometimes!” Harrison exclaims. “Typical Holland luck strikes again. Out of everyone in the world, you got paired up with this bitch! What are the odds that you get the worst soulmate—”

“Enough!” Tom yells. It’s too late. Zendaya is already grabbing your arm and pulling you out of the tent. “Nice, Haz.”

Harrison scowls. “Hey, I’m calling it like I see it. There’s got to be a mistake. No way the universe hates you that much.”

“Haz, even we know about the brewing war between Marvel and Thanatoia,” Tom reasons. “Once that’s all over we can be together.”

“Have you seen her, mate?” Harrison demands, snapping his fingers in front of Tom like that’s going to wake him up. “Why would you want to be with that?”

“Because she’s my soulmate,” Tom says stubbornly.

Harrison rolls his eyes. “You poor stupid son of a bitch.”

“Excuse me?”

“Soulmates don’t always work out, Tom,” Harrison points out. “And people marry people that aren’t their soulmate all the time. Just because you’re most compatible with Y/N doesn’t mean you’re not moderately compatible with someone else.”

“She has to love me,” Tom insists. “Y/N’s my soulmate.”

He stomps out of the tent and looks around for Zendaya and George’s tent. If he can just talk to you longer, Tom will be able to convince you to give them a try. He knows he can.

As he draws nearer to the tent, he can’t help himself; he stops outside to listen to the conversation.

“—really very excited,” Zendaya says. “The year was practically torture for him, and I can tell it was for you as well.”

You must shake your head or open your mouth to contradict her, because Z tells you not to lie.

“Trust me,” she continues, “I’ve spent enough time away from my soulmate to know what you were going through. You’re tough as hell to make it a whole year but everyone here already knows that. You don’t need to prove more.”

There’s silence inside the tent for so long Tom is about to walk away when you ask, “Can you tell me about him?”

A shocked smile spreads across Tom’s face.

“Well, Tom is a total softie,” Zendaya starts with. “He loves dogs in particular but he likes all animals except birds and lizards.”

You giggle and Tom’s stomach drops.

“And, let’s see,” Zendaya continues. Tom can picture her putting her finger to her chin as she thinks. “He can’t stand blueberries but loves pretty much every other type of berry. And…”

A Handmaiden’s Lies Taglist:

@andreasworlsboring101 @juliebean247

Forever Taglist:

@lemirabitur @annymcervantes @queenmissfit @quiet-because-it-is-a-secret @iksey @thehyperactiveteen @luxmoonlight @andreasworlsboring101

Let me know what you all thought or if you’d like me to put you on a taglist!

#tom holland #tom holland fanfiction #tom holland fanfic #tom holland imagine #reader x tom holland #tom holland x reader #tom holland x you #reader insert #you x tom holland #MCU #mcu au #mcu fanfic #harrison osterfield #au #robin hood au #soulmate au #zendaya

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esmeraude11 · 4 years

Text

On Fëanor and Indis

Something that’s always bugged me? Indis and Fëanor’s relationship. Or rather the lack thereof of a relationship. If we go with the canon dates then Míriel died c. 1170 in the Year of the Trees when Fëanor was little more than an infant in Elven terms.

While Indis was Míriel’s closest friend. She was friends with Finwë too.

I doubt that she left Finwë alone during this period. And I suspect that she wouldn’t have left Míriel’s newborn child alone either. Indis might very well have inserted herself into Finwë’s household so as to look after Fëanor. Because something that we can’t forget is that Finwë was devastated by Míriel’s death. Canonically we’re given a hint as to how Finwë must have felt in the passage that talks about his and Indis’ marriage.

This is going to be long. So I’m putting a Read-More here.

"Now it came to pass that Finwë took as his second wife Indis the Fair. She was a Vanya, close kin of Ingwë the High King, golden-haired and tall <…>. Finwë loved her greatly, and was glad again."

That last sentence jumps out to me as particularly important. Especially the last part “...and was glad again.”

Considering that Míriel literally died of depression (general or post-partum, we don’t know) and physical/spiritual exhaustion that bit talking about Finwë’s emotional state stands out suspiciously. I have to wonder if Finwë himself might have suffered from depression after Míriel’s death.

If he didn’t just marry Indis randomly but rather that it was the result of a prolonged relationship of some sort. I suspect that Indis would have essentially moved to Tirion after Míriel’s pregnancy took a turn for the worse so as to offer Míriel her support. Maybe completing the transition after her death. Because Finwë’s alone now. His wife is dead and resting in the Halls. His newborn son has lost his mother and it’s entirely possible that Finwë was in no condition to look after his child here. Indis likely took on the task of raising Fëanáro. She might have even offered what support she could to Finwë here. Helping by taking over the day to day running of the palace’s household. Taking care of Fëanáro’s household as well. Nurses, governesses, etc. etc. Essentially becoming the Acting-Queen/Queen-Consort in absentia while Finwë mourns his loss and struggles/grapples with his grief.

I feel like Fëanáro grew up with a doting and loving but slightly distant father for a few years here (which might have had an effect on a young Fëanáro). Because Finwë more than likely took a few years to begin to recover from his loss. Míriel was gone but her memory never truly faded. Grief is a thing that cannot be underestimated or ignored. Especially in this situation. The elves came to Aman to escape the horrors that hunted them in Cuiviénen. They were supposed to be coming to a land where death among the Eldar would be a historical footnote. Míriel died, however, and became the first and last of the Eldar to (notably) die in Aman until Alqualondë. And elves bond on a spiritual and mental level. Not just physically.

This is something that can’t be underestimated.

Míriel’s death wasn’t supposed to happen.

And if it did? Then their dead were suppose to return from the Halls. But Míriel was so affected by her condition (depression/exhaustion) that she would not leave the Halls. Not even for her husband and young son. She needed the time to rest and recover. She couldn’t or at least was unwilling to subject herself to life while still fraught with the issues that had led to her death.

This is understandable and she shouldn’t be blamed for making her choice. Because it must have been a difficult one to make.

But this left Finwë to deal with the aftermath. And he might not have been up for it. He might have needed help. Indis was there. Indis who had been friends (best friends, even) with Míriel and Finwë. Indis who’d likely joked with Míriel and looked forward to her friends’ child with eagerness. Indis who was the sister of a king and was herself one of the Awakened Elves of Cuiviénen. She’d likely known Míriel and Finwë for a very very long time.

And this is where we come back to Fëanor.

Fëanor likely grew up with Indis as his honorary aunt. Someone who took on a maternal role in his life without explicitly taking on that role in his life. Fëanáro might have called Indis ‘mom’ or ‘mommy’ a few times when he was especially young and she’d have gently corrected him. Indis would have taken care of Fëanáro’s education. Carefully selecting tutors for the young prince from a list of Noldorin scholars and masters. Ever mindful of the fact that she was a Vanya and he was the prince of the Noldor and thus needed to curate his education in a direction that suited his birth.

Indis likely spoke to Fëanáro of Míriel from the very beginning. First as a baby, rocking him in her arms and singing to him songs that she’d heard Míriel sing to her swollen belly as she worked on her pieces. Mindless ditties of shining threads and jewel-tone colors and embroidering. Singing Vanyarin songs of beauty and perspective and thought that Míriel had enjoyed for their rather pretty and bright evocative turns of phrase.

Telling him bed-time stories of laughter and joy and expectation. Míriel’s grey eyes shining with mirth. Her mouth curved into an impish smile. A long-fingered and elegant hand splayed over a pregnant belly. Silver-grey hair falling in a mass of loose curls over a slender shoulder. Each strand shining and lovely. Of a bright and fierce temper that could cow any uppity noble and only gave way before her loved ones.

Drawing a blanket over Fëanáro’s chest. Míriel’s work. One of her finest and final masterpieces. Indis had spun the materials that went into the thread. Brought from Valmar the materials that Míriel needed for her jewel-toned dyes. Míriel had woven and sown the squares that sealed the goosedown. She’d embroidered the blanket itself. Her final gift to the child she’d loved and never gotten the chance to watch grow up.

We know that Míriel’s body lay in-repose in the Gardens of Lorien.

We know that Fëanor went to visit her often. Finwë likely went as well. Not quite as often and more than likely because it was more than he could bear.

I can see Indis being the one to accompany Fëan��ro when he was still young enough to want her to come with him. Before the marriage that is. Indis running a careful hand through Míriel’s hair while her other arm is wrapped around Fëanáro. Ensuring that he doesn’t run off or clamber onto his mother’s body.

Let me just say too. Míriel’s body being held in-repose could only have exacerbated Fëanor’s issues here. Especially since Finwë clearly struggled with the loss of his wife. Míriel died but she was never laid to rest. Her memory lingered on. In her husband. In her friend. Among her people as well. Fëanor never had a chance to come to terms with his loss. Especially since his loss occurred when he was a baby and thus never had a chance to properly know his mother and was instead left with her lingering memory.

I don’t doubt that Finwë loved him. But considering that he might have been struggling with depression after Míriel’s death and might have been a distant parent during those initial years of Fëanáro’s childhood. I can definitely see him trying to make up for it by overcompensating. Showering Fëanáro with affection and making time for his wants and needs. Even at the expense of his later children. And Fëanáro himself might not have recognized that Finwë was attempting to make up for those years that he couldn’t be a good parent.

If Finwë was struggling with depression here. He would definitely not have told his son. I tend to think that Finwë kept as much of Míriel’s circumstances from Fëanáro. Because it’d have been very easy for the boy to blame himself for his mother’s death and who knows how servants or nobles saw the whole situation. I can also see him wanting to keep Fëanáro in the dark of his own personal issues out of fear and worry that Fëanáro himself might be susceptible to depression as well. Plus fearing that he himself might fade from grief/depression and not wanting his son to have that on his mind.

All of this would lead to Fëanáro not understanding and not taking it well that Finwë’s immediately affectionate with his and Indis’ children. Because the thing here? It’s not Fëanor’s fault. Finwë was likely in a better mental state and was thus capable of involving himself with his younger children from the get-go. Whereas he couldn’t do the same with Fëanor himself at first.

It’s incredibly likely that Námo had informed Finwë of Míriel’s reluctance to return. Perhaps even told him that it was unlikely that she’d be ready for re-embodiment anytime soon. This may or may not have worsened Finwë’s own condition. I think that he began to lean more on Indis on a more personal level after this. For mental or emotional support. As well as realizing just how much Indis had taken on for his sake (running the palace and household/raising his son in his stead). Which could have very easily led to a far stronger connection and to marriage.

When we add all of the above to Finwë and Indis getting married during Fëanáro’s childhood? It’d be easy to see Fëanáro taking offense to the whole affair. Fëanáro likely knew that dead elves can return from the Halls of Mandos once they’re ready. Indis herself likely told him of this while relating stories of the Valar and perhaps the reasons for why the Eldar left Cuiviénen. A young Fëanáro would have seen this as a betrayal from the woman that had raised him. She’d told him all of his life that his mother loved him and his father. That she’d come back from the Halls to be his mom again and they’d all be happy.

Fëanáro could and would have absolutely taken this badly. And it’d be easy for a young boy to blame his new step-mother/formerly beloved aunt-figure rather than his father in this situation. Especially if he desperately adores his previously distant but still loving father.

This would then lead to Fëanáro resenting Indis. And Indis herself having to deal with the fact that she’s lost Fëanáro’s love and trust. Perhaps hoping that things will get better as time goes on. But knowing that they won’t once Ñolofinwë is born. Because Fëanáro likely took Findis’ birth with some ambivalence. If he was still young then he might be genuinely curious and affectionate with Findis because he hasn’t had time to internalize a lot of his issues. Plus Findis is tiny and pretty and eager to interact with her elder brother.

A brother, however, changes things. And Fëanáro was likely old enough (the equivalent of a Human 9 year old, I’d say) to realize that it changed things. One: Fëanáro’s position as Crown Prince was potentially threatened by Ñolofinwë. It wasn’t really but Fëanáro no doubt had begun to tie his father’s love and affection to the position which would eventually make him possessive of it. Two: Because Fëanáro watched as Finwë eagerly welcomed the arrival of the new baby. Watched as he didn’t struggle to connect or dote on Ñolofinwë the way he did with Fëanáro himself.

I suspect that ultimately led to his resentment of his younger siblings (Ñolofinwë especially). As well as encouraging his belief that Indis had stolen his mother’s chance at life and intended to take everything from him. Thus leading to Fëanáro possessively and almost obsessively defending his mother’s memory.

Just... give me Fëanor in the Halls of Mandos having to come to terms with his childhood and the Indis that had raised him and the woman he’d come to hate for taking his mother’s place in life as wife and mother. Maybe having a long and much needed discussion with Finwë about what occurred during Fëanor’s childhood. Having to realize that nothing had truly changed between them. He’d simply refused to see it for a very long time.

#Indis #Fëanor #Finwë #The Silmarillion #Esme's Musings #I'm sorry #This is long and rambly #but I have Feelings about Fëanor and Indis' whole general relationship #And Finwë himself of course

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thechildoflightning · 4 years

Text

The Kübler-Ross Model Ch 1- Denial

Title: The Kübler-Ross Model [Masterpost]

Fandom: Sanders Sides

Pairings: background LAMP

~~~

Chapter Title: Denial- Chapter One

Summary:

Stage One: Denial- Characterized by a refusal to accept reality in order to protect against pain of it.

In which Remy avoids confronting his feelings.

Warnings: PTSD, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms, Social Dysphoria, Accidental Misgendering

[ao3 link]

Denial- Chapter One

“Selected: Voicemail. One item. Tab one of one,” Remy’s phone says, a touch too cheerfully. Remy sighs, already slightly suspicious of who it’s from. He puts his finger to the screen, sliding it around as he searches for the desired section.

“Voicemail.”

One finger down.

“Daniel Zurko. M-”

Double tap.

“Hey Remy. I don’t know- I don't know what you were thinking. Flying off to Florida like that- Remy you can’t do that that’s- you could have been hurt and you can’t just- You can’t do that, okay Remy? I don’t know what’s going I on. I know you and Logan are close and I can only guess you went to him but… We gotta talk about these things, okay? It’s fine this time though, not a big deal. Let’s get you home, I’m worried. It’s- you can’t handle yourself Remy and I worry about you being by yourself. I know you’re 18 but Remy you have to understand there’s things you just aren’t capable of. I-,” a sigh, “Just, call me okay? Let’s get you home, we can talk then. I love you Remy. Call me.”

Things are fine.

Remy has been staying with Virgil, Logan, and their boyfriends for a few days now, and things are still very new, but Remy is adjusting just fine.

Everything is great.

His dad keeps calling him which is sorta annoying, but it’s easy enough to deny the calls. In fact, he doesn’t just deny them but ignores them completely, pushing them to the back of his mind to not be thought about at all. So far the plan seems to be working. Not answering calls means he doesn’t have to talk to his dad and ignoring them completely means that Remy doesn’t have to worry about them.

It’s a foolproof plan, denying the gravity of his situation.

And really, he isn’t denying anything. This whole spontaneous ‘run away until I can go to college thing’ isn’t that big of a deal. It’s only for a few months anyways. Then, he’ll go to college and everything will calm down. It’ll be fine. Everything would be fine.

Remy doesn’t feel fine.

See, the downside of running away and going to live with your cousin, friend, and their boyfriends is that Remy’s life has no structure. Sure, he's starting to build some for himself. He takes Cha-Cha for walks, stops by Starbucks, but he still has a lot of downtime.

And downtime means a lot of time to ruminate.

Remy thinks about things a lot. Mostly things he doesn’t want to think about. Like the fact that he had just traveled across the country with zero support from his father. Like the fact that he ran away and is refusing to talk to his father because Remy hit a breaking point and he just can’t do this anymore. Like the fact that he knows he’s way in over his head except that he has no idea what to do about that so he’s just bullshitting his way through all of this. Like the fact that everything’s pressing around him and sometimes it makes it hard to breathe and-

He needs to get out of his head.

He knows he does. He does. He just doesn't know how.

“Lot on your mind?” Virgil asks.

“Hmm?” Remy responds, pulling his attention back to Virgil. “Oh. I dunno. No.”

“Right,” Virgil says and Remy knows that Virgil doesn't believe him at all.

Remy huffs and shrugs.

“I mean, I dunno? I guess. But I’m fine. I just-” he trails off. ‘I don’t know what I’m doing,’ a voice in him internally screams, but he isn't dealing with that shit so he shoves it somewhere deep inside of him.

“Just?” Virgil asks, carrying the word, because of course Virgil won’t let him get away with anything.

“I- uh I get my roommate or roommates today,” Remy says in place of actually answering with what he maybe should.

Virgil doesn’t speak for a moment and Remy thinks that maybe he really is going to be forced to share.

“Yeah?” he says after a minute.

Remy doesn’t sigh in relief, but it’s close.

“Yeah,” Remy agrees.

“Still have no clue why you decided to do that. You do realize how easy it would be for you to get a single right?”

Remy does, and he’d rather die than be put in a single. Even if his roommate is a complete asshole, the minimum social interaction from their conversations has to be better than being completely alone. Anything would be better than being alone. Remy hates being alone.

He’s always been alone.

He doesn’t think he’s ever going to stop being alone.

“I know. I wanted to. Come on, roommates are like the college experience.”

Virgil breathes out huffed laughter.

“Okay,” he says, voice full of mirth, “I mean I’m of the personal opinion that roommates suck but-”

“No you’re not-” new voice joins in, startling Remy a bit. It’s Patton or Roman but he can’t differentiate their voices super well yet. Getting there but he’s definitely not at the point where he can identify them based on three words.

“Uh yes, sharing a room with you was the worst experience of my life,” Virgil responds.

Past tense. It’s Roman then.

“Two things. One, we currently share a room so that’s bullshit. Two, you were the first to even agree with the idea,” Roman argues.

A dark shape enters Remy’s limited field of vision, backlit from the light coming through the window. A moment later, Roman disappears as he traveled away from the light source and presumably towards Virgil.

“I remember conditionally agreeing,” Virgil barters back, “And I was the first to agree because you asked me first. If you think about it, I actually took the most time to agree to the idea even if I technically answered first.”

“Eh, semantics,” Roman brushes off, “Anyways you like me to much to get rid of me.”

Virgil grumbles but doesn’t deny it.

“So what’s this about roommates?” Roman asks.

A chair scrapes against the floor as he takes a seat next to Virgil at the table.

“I get my roommate or roommates today,” Remy explains.

“And I was saying that he should have gotten a single.”

Remy would’ve hated a single. He’s just hoping whoever he rooms with isn’t going to be a complete asshole.

“Oh come on, roommates are fun.”

“If they’re anything like you were- no they are not.”

“Oh! Hey! Speaking of single rooms, Remy did Virgil ever tell you how Patton and him met?” Roman’s voice gains an eager tone, humor hanging behind it.

Remy rolls his eyes because he knows exactly where this conversation is going.

“Roman,” Virgil warns.

“You see, what happens when you have a single is that you have no one to let you inside if you lock yourself out,” Roman starts.

“Hey Remy, did I ever tell you about the time that Roman gave himself a concussion and a bloody nose because he fell off his desk?” Virgil quickly interrupts.

“Okay no- that’s not fair. I was trying to make my point. It’s your fault I fell off that desk.” Roman bickers back.

Virgil forms his rebuttal and the two of them go at it, hashing out an argument they’ve had probably a billion times.

Remy has in fact heard both of these stories numerous times, as they seem to be Roman and Virgil’s favorite pieces of playful ammunition at one other. With the two distracted, Remy slips away to check his email.

The roommate assignment hasn’t come. He sighs, and reloads it. Nothing. He sighs, and reloads it again, ‘cause he’s got nothing better to do.

He blinks in surprise when his phone reports that he actually has just gotten an email from the university. Remy lets the screen read the information to him, quickly speeding through the parts that seem unimportant. He eventually finds a name, just one of them.

Kai Jacobson.

Okay, one roommate. Remy can work with that. He thinks about reaching out, getting in touch, getting to know whoever this “Kai” is. But Remy literally got this email five minutes ago and that seems a bit stalkerish so he decides to wait a bit.

He holds off until after dinner and then emails his mysterious new roommate, eager to get to know him. Now that he actually has a roommate college is starting to seem more and more like a reality. Something thrums softly inside of Remy, and he thinks it’s maybe relief.

Kai doesn’t respond that night, but he has an email that evening and a phone number. They switch to texting.

It’s Logan that finds him a week later, sprawled casually across the sofa, earbud in his ear as he listens to Kai’s last text before responding. Cha-Cha was at his feet a moment ago, though the last time he leaned his foot down to brush against her fur, she wasn’t there.

He’s on his phone in the first place because his Dad called and he ignored it once more. After, his mind kept buzzing, so he opened up his texts and reached out to Kai, hoping for a quick response and a distraction. He doesn’t want to talk to his dad, doesn’t want to ruminate in what Remy has done. But Kai came through, replying to his text quickly. They’d been talking for awhile now and Remy has barely thought about his dad at all.

The text finishes reading itself and Remy holds down the mic on his headphones, eager to reply when a voice interrupts him.

“What are you doing?” Logan asks.

Remy pulls his attention away from his phone.

“What does it look like I’m doing?” he snarks back.

Logan moves.

“I’m not sure,” he admits, as he comes closer.

“Talking to Kai,” Remy says, giving a real answer.

“Oh. Uh, who’s Kai?”

“A friend.”

“You have friends?”

The corner of Remy’s mouth twitches at the comment, not quite giving way to humor, but close.

“Sorry,” Logan immediately apologizes when he doesn’t respond. “Sorry. That was rude. I didn’t- I meant- I- I think that maybe sounded wrong. I’m trying to say-”

Remy let’s Logan flounder for words for a bit, giving him the opportunity to speak and clarify, but when nothing comes from it and Logan just seems to be angry with himself, Remy jumps in.

“You’re good Lo, you don’t need to apologize. Admittedly- don’t quite know what you’re trying to ask if your question isn’t ‘do you have friends’ but if that is your question, I don’t mind it and the answer to it is yes, yes I do have friends.”

Remy does. Most of them are from home but he hasn’t talked to any of them since he got here. He’s gotten a few texts and the group chat he’s in still carries on with spamming him constantly. (It’d probably be annoying if he didn’t constantly have it on mute). And it’s- his friends are good people. He just... doesn’t know what to say.

He hasn’t even worked up the courage to text them, and he feels pretty guilty about that because they probably have no clue what happened to him. They were going to go out to the movies a few days ago and if they hadn’t been concerned then, they certainly are now. Remy knows that. But he still doesn’t talk to them.

What do you say after you make an instinctual decision to fly across the country three months earlier than planned with no explanation or goodbye? What do you say when you run away from home and, sure, you’re an adult but you have no fucking clue what you’re doing and something deep inside of you hurts and you’re scared and lost and alone and you don’t know how to deal with that, how to even begin addressing that?

Luckily, Remy doesn’t get to ponder those distressing thoughts any further, because Logan speaks up.

“I meant-” Logan tries after a moment, but he just cuts himself again with another sigh. He takes a seat on the couch, leg pressing into Remy’s feet. Considering Logan’s the one that initiated the physical touch, Remy throws his feet onto Logan’s lap. One of Logan’s legs bounces as he continues to ponder his question.

“Y’know it’s fine if you did just want to ask if I had a friend or not,” Remy said. He can’t tell with Logan sometimes- when Logan regrets saying something because he realizes it’s maybe not considered ‘socially appropriate’ or when Logan regrets saying something because it’s not quite what he meant and he’s not getting his point across.

“No, no,” Logan says. His leg bounces faster. “I meant more- you have friends as in I’m interested in them? Tell me about them. Who are you talking to?”

“Kai,” Remy says.

“Who’s that?”

“My roommate.”

“You got your roommate? And just one? And you’re hearing this late? What about priority?”

“Mhmm,” Remy agrees, “I signed up for the gender-inclusive dorming which is why I didn’t have priority. I think I maybe told you that. But yeah- the freshman dorms are generally less roommates because they’re tiny apparently.”

“Oh. Yes. I remember that now. Patton’s dorm was very small.”

“Yeah. So it’ll be just the two of us.”

“Is that a good thing or a bad thing?”

Remy shrugs.

“Dunno yet,” he admits, “Kai seems pretty cool though. They actually live locally so we’re planning to meet up. And that should be nice- getting to know them a bit before I meet them.”

“Oh. That’s good.”

“Yeah. They were very disappointed when I admitted that I didn’t play any video games. Joking disappointed,” Remy amends so Logan is aware that it wasn’t a real issue, “Or well- he was a bit disappointed but short-term it's not really a big deal disappointed. But I sated him with picture of Cha-Cha.”

He recalls the conversation fondly. Maybe he should talk to some of his friends back him if this minimal interaction between him and a practical stranger gets him this hyped up. Remy’s always been an extrovert. People around him- good people, friends- have always had a recharging effect on him. He’s been lonely without them.

Or he would be lonely. But he’s not. Because he’s fine.

Remy pushes those thoughts away.

“Oh! And give me a second,” Remy pulls his phone back out, searches for the pictures that have been sent. “Kai said that Cha-Cha was yawning in one of them and that it’s very cute, look.”

Logan takes the phone from him. He struggles with the voice commands for a moment.

“Double tap,” Remy reminds, when the same description is being read off over and over again.

Logan gives a hum of acknowledgement.

“Very cute,” he observes after a moment, “I didn’t know she had spots on her tongue.”

As if summoned, Cha-Cha comes over from wherever she was, collar jingling slightly as she settles her head on Logan’s leg, panting ever so slightly.

“Oh yeah,” Remy says, “Totally forgot about those.” He directs his next sentences at his dog, “Yeah, Cha-Cha? You have little spots on your tongue?”

Cha-Cha doesn’t reply, but does shuffle over to Remy’s side, settling her snout under his arm and nudging him slightly.

“I know, I know, you want a walk we can go in a minute,” he promises. She noses him once more and then stops, presumably settling on the floor again. Remy reaches a hand to check absentmindedly, fingers curling into her fur.

“Phone,” Logan offers, finished looking at the pictures.

Remy lets go of Cha-Cha and extends his hand towards Logan. Logan presses the phone against his fingers and he grabs it, settling it on his chest.

“I’m going to take Cha-Cha for a walk,” he says. At the words, Cha-Cha shoots to her feet in and instant. “Wanna come?”

“Sure,” Logan agrees. Remy nods, and throws his feet off of Logan. The action causes his phone to fall of his chest and clatter to the ground. He makes a face and takes a minute to find it on the floor before standing and pocketing it.

He looks over at the nearest window, checking the light. It isn’t too bright outside, but it was raining earlier and Remy learned a long time ago that while the light flashing off of puddles was very pretty, it also hurt like hell and was generally very disorientating.

“Lemme grab sunglasses and we can go,” he says.

“Okay,” Logan agrees and Remy darts away.

A walk will be nice. Remy really needs to get out of his head.

There’s someone at the kitchen table.

Remy is not expecting there to be someone at the kitchen table.

“Uh, hey?” he offers.

He gets no response.

The whole gang’s supposed to be at work. No one’s supposed to be home right now.

“Remy?” a quiet voice asks, sounding completely and utterly terrified.

“Hey Virge, yeah it’s me. Mind if I sit?”

Virgil doesn’t respond. But his breathing is even, and he doesn’t seem to be hurt or anything, so Remy lets the worst of the worry leave him. He’s been friends with Virgil for years. He knows how to handle this.

“Okay. Well I’m going to keep making breakfast then,” he says after a moment, and continues into the kitchen. He throws a bagel in the toaster and pulls out what he’s pretty sure is jam. The contents catch in the light, which is a good sign, but Roman and Patton aren’t super great at putting things back in the same spot (though Remy knows they’re both trying) and it’s still a pretty unfamiliar kitchen to Remy.

He gets the jam- and it is jam- on his bagel and let’s Virgil know that he’s going to join him at the table.

He walks over slowly, waiting to see if Virgil gives any indication that he doesn’t want Remy coming near him. But he doesn’t really respond in any way so Remy takes a seat across from him.

“Hey Virgil, not a great day?”

It’s obvious that it isn’t, considering Virgil isn’t at work, but Remy still asks. He’s not really sure where Virgil’s at right now, but the question can’t hurt and should be an easy one for Virgil to answer.

“No,” Virgil confirms.

Remy nods, but he isn’t super happy about how short that answer was.

“I- Do you need help with grounding or anything?”

“No,” Virgil answers, “No I- I know I’m here. I know I’m in the kitchen. I- just- I’m really scared,” he admits.

“Okay,” Remy says, “Do you need or want anything from me?”

“No- I- it’s okay. I’m okay. I know I’m okay.”

“You’re sure?”

Virgil sighs roughly.

“Yeah,” he says, and his voice seems a bit clearer, “Yeah, yeah I’m good. I’m okay. I’m safe.”

“Alright then. Well I’m leaving a bit to meet up with Kai.”

Virgil knows that information, Remy and Kai had planned to meet-up two weeks ago. But, with Virgil where he was at now, Remy thinks the reminder can’t hurt. It’ll give Virgil time for him to be okay with Remy leaving the house.

“You’re leaving the house?”

The fear is obvious in Virgil’s tone, even as Remy knows he’s probably trying to hide it.

“Yeah,” Remy says, “In about an hour. Don’t really know how long we’ll stay.”

Be as specific as possible, Remy remembers. Give Virgil space to respond. Acknowledge his fears, validate. Don’t let those same fears control decision making. Adapt, adjust, but keep moving forward.

“Do you want me to drive you?” Virgil offers. His fingers drum on the table.

“I was planning on taking the bus,” Remy says. He’d spent and hour last night trying to figure out the times online. It had been a frustrating experience, but he thought he’d finally figured it out.

“Oh.”

Remy knows Virgil, so he speaks up once more.

“Do you want to drive me?”

Remy doesn’t know what’s going through Virgil’s head right now. But he’s obviously scared- scared enough he hasn’t gone to work today, hasn’t left the house. It’s because Virgil hasn't left the house, that Remy is surprised Virgil even offers to drive him, but Remy also understands that Virgil probably doesn’t want him somewhere he isn’t positive Remy’s going to be safe at. And right now, Remy doubts there’s many places Virgil’s considering safe.

It had taken a while for Remy not to feel offended. When they were younger, Remy was insistent on being independent even as more and more people took that away from him. When he had first met Virgil, Virgil had seemed to do the same thing, not wanting Remy to be alone, go out by himself, etc. And Remy had hated it.

They fought about a few times before finally talking about it. Remy shared that he felt that Virgil was stealing away his independence instead of letting Remy come to him when or if he needed support. Virgil had apologized and shared that it had nothing to do with Remy, it was Virgil, and it was trauma, and he was working on it but sometimes he just got so scared and had to make sure Remy was safe. He couldn’t let Remy get hurt.

Virgil had worked on those fears, that lingering trauma and Remy had worked on not taking it personally and giving Virgil extra reassurances.

“I-” Virgil attempts, and right, Virgil’s offering to drive him. “I want you to be safe. I don’t want to leave the house.”

“I’m going to be safe,” Remy promises, “Do you want me to give you the address? I can also text you when I get there and when I leave if you want.”

“I-” Virgil hesitates, “Can you?”

“For sure,” Remy confirms, “I’m going to go get ready now. You good?”

“Eh,” Virgil offers, and Remy’s willing to take that.

He slips away to take a shower and then get dressed.

It’s getting dressed that trips him up, and he’s not even sure why. He doesn’t really care if he looks nice or not, he’s just meeting his roommate for the first time. He genuinely doesn’t feel a need or desire to look a certain amount of presentable. It’s more- it’s more his body he thinks. How his clothes look on his body. He’s all sharp edges. He’s tall and thin and rectangular, and his clothes show that. And when Kai sees him, they’re going to think…

Kai’s going to think what?

Kai’s just going to think he’s a guy wearing clothes. That’s literally it. Remy knows that. He doesn’t think that Kai’s going to pass judgement on him for what he’s wearing or not. And they wouldn’t pass judgement on Remy’s body intentionally, Remy knows that. But they- what if they pass judgement on his body unintentionally?

And why does that even matter to Remy? His body’s fine. He’s- he knows it’s fine. He’s fine with it. He likes his body. But Kai’s going to think…

Kai’s going to think he’s a guy.

But that’s right isn’t it?

Remy’s heart pounds in his-their-her-xyr-eir his chest.

He takes a deep breath.

“You’re a guy,” he says out loud to himself. “Kai’s going to see you and they’re going to think you’re a guy, and they’re going to be right.”

Remy pushes everything else to the side, stops worrying about how he looks. (Or more- he starts ignoring the fact that he’s worried about how he looks and what that means) and he moves to leave the house. He wants to talk to Virgil again first, so he doesn’t have time to be worrying about anything so it’s fine.

It’s fine.

He’s fine.

He.

“Virgil?” Remy calls when he’s back in the living room.

“Couch,” Virgil replies, “What’s up?”

“I’m headed out now.”

“I-” Virgil hesitates for just a second, “Okay.”

Remy knows how much strength it takes for Virgil to say that.

“Can I have the address?” he then asks.

“Yeah,” Remy says. He gives it to him, as well as which bus he’s taking, and promises to text him when he gets there and when he heads back.

“Okay, I gotta go,” Remy says eventually.

“Okay. Can-” Virgil cuts himself off. Remy waits. “Can I give you a hug?” Virgil eventually asks.

“Yeah,” Remy says, and then he’s being wrapped up in Virgil’s arms.

Virgil gives really good hugs. They’re firm and securing and loving and nothing like how confining his father’s have always felt. Remy lets himself melt into a moment, before slowly pulling away.

He gets Cha-Cha in her harness, calls out a goodbye, waits for one in response, and is out the door.

Remy arrives there perfectly on time and gets in line because coffee. He quickly texts Virgil to let him know that he's arrived and then texts Kai as well to tell them the same thing.

He’s just had someone show him to a table when a figure leans over him and speaks.

“Remy, right? I’m Kai.”

“Yeah,” he says with a smile, and reaches a hand out. Kai takes it and shakes it before dropping the hand and then sitting at the table.

“This Cha-Cha then?”

“Yeah,” Remy tells them, “You can say hi if you want.”

With permission Kai greats his dog with some cheerful cooing and pets. After a moment they stop and fall into semi-awkward silence.

“So,” Kai drawls.

“So,” Remy responds.

“I’m sorta awful at socializing,” Kai admits with a small laugh.

“That’s okay,” Remy says, “I don’t think I’m much better.

Five minutes later and they’re talking like they’ve known each other for years, initial awkwardness gone.

They talk about their dorm a bit, and Kai brings up their excitement at a gender-inclusive dorming option. Remy agrees with them, a smile on his face. Kai’s excitement is easily explained, the use of changing they/them and he/him pronouns making it clear why they picked it. Remy knows that he himself has to be hard to place. Kai probably assumes he’s just an ally. Which he is (isn’t he?). Remy almost wishes that Kai would ask him why he chose these particular dorms.

Except maybe not, because Remy knows what he’d answer.

He’s a guy. He’s cis. It’s fine.

He’s fine.

He’s fine. He’s fine. He’s fine.

He. He. He.

~~~

taglist below

~ask to be added or removed~

@mewithanie @eddies-spaghetti @lemonyellowlogic @savioursailor @goldteethandacurseforthistown @you-betcha-weirdo

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autumn-maple13 · 4 years

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Lost to Time - Chapter 31

Chapter 31: The Cape

It was late afternoon the next day when the group finally made it back to the Regalia and Amara's motorcycle, having decided to spend another night at the Haven in the Thicket for the woman to recover a bit more of her energy, as well as for them to come up with a plan. There were still a few too many loose ends for Ignis to be comfortable with by the time they eventually recovered, but even he had been unable to account for much outside the realm of the current knowledge now that Amara's secret had been revealed and left the already wildcard that was Ardyn Izunia an even more unpredictable piece.

As everyone returned their previous spots, Amara spared her cousin one more look before she turned over the engine of her bike and pulled away from the gravelly parking spot. The Regalia pulled out close behind her, and Noctis was actually attempting to keep up this time. A sharp right off the dirt road and back onto the freeway had them soon to be speeding around mountain curves until the sea came into view off to their right. She could hear a car horn behind her, so after a quick glance revealed Noctis to be signaling her, Amara pulled off into a parking spot she saw ahead.

"Noctis, what's up? We've hardly been on the road long enough-"

Prompto had run up and slung an arm around his former schoolmate before she could finish and leaned in close so he could whisper to her. "Iris is feeling a little iffy about jumping ship so soon. Noct thought a little more time for her to hang with all of us would help her feel a bit better about it."

"Ah, got it. In that case," the woman pulled out her map to glance over, soon finding where she thought they might be on a long winding road near the coast. "There's a Haven up ahead. I know we only just left the other one, but maybe we can camp out again, and do a little fishing?"

Ignis didn't seem upset at the idea. "It would be nice to restock some of our supplies."

"Alright, I'll go let Noct know!" Prompto grinned and ran back to the car, and after a quick glance back at them Amara stowed her map away and pulled her motorcycle back onto the road. It wasn't too long of a drive, with the ocean stretching out to their right providing a welcome distraction, right up until they started to cross a massive bridge, heading for one of the region's many tunnels. Amara could sense the Haven's power not far away and pulled to a stop close to a concrete staircase that led down to a sloping hill below. Noctis was careful to pull the Regalia up behind her.

"Where's this Haven at?"

"That way." Gladiolus didn't seem impressed but motioned for her to lead the way. With a nod, the redhead started down the steps, taking a moment at the bottom to look out to the mouth of the river that was feeding into the ocean whose salt was stinging her nose. The sea breeze wasn't very strong where they were, sheltered by a rocky outcrop, but she could see the trees rustling overhead. It was a fair slope downward toward the river, with rocks and boulders sticking up everywhere though it did start to clear up as they got closer to the riverbank. As they stepped out onto the open stone bank, she looked over at the cliff framed view of gentle waves, feeling the breeze pick up around them.

"Wow. I've never seen the ocean like this before."

"Really? You would have loved Galdin Quay then!" Prompto laughed, pulling out his camera to take a few photos. "Hey, maybe you should ask Iggy to take you back sometime."

"Sounds romantic," Gladiolus snickered, patting Amara's shoulder as he walked past her. "If you do go, try not to have too much fun."

The woman huffed, giving his sister a look. "I think he's jealous."

"Well he did have a crush on you way back when so-"

"Iris!"

"Wait what?!"

"Duude!"

Ignis, despite the quick adjustment of his glasses, didn't seem fazed by the implication, instead crossing his arms with a rather knowing look. "Come now Gladio, don't blame Iris for telling us something that quite frankly I'm surprised no one else noticed. However, you might want to work on that timing. I believe you're late? And by quite a few years, might I add."

Amara grimaced, turning her look on the elder Amicitia, who looked ready to die (though of what she couldn't tell). "Gladio, how about we agree to forget this happened and get back to what we actually came here to do?"

"Agreed." He nodded, glaring daggers at his smirking sister as she followed the Glaive across the grass covered rocks that lined the bottom of the cliff. It was fairly hazardous to walk across the area without paying attention to where you were stepping, so as Amara tried to focus on making sure she and the younger girl made it to what would be their camp for the night, she just hoped Noctis didn't stick his foot in a half-covered hole and hurt himself. Hearing the guys start to complain behind her as the wind picked up offered a bit of reassurance that they were at least marginally aware of the terrain around them.

"Damn, this wind's strong!" Noctis was struggling to keep his overshirt from whipping up and hitting him in the face, finally reaching down and fastening a few of the buttons to keep it from lifting up too far.

Prompto had other problems though, wearing a heart broken look as he whined. "No! My perfectly groomed hair!"

"You think you got it bad? Check out Ignis!"

"Whoa, you're right!"

The advisor scoffed, trying to ignore the wind that was ruining what might have otherwise been a perfectly put away hairstyle. "It's rude to stare."

Honestly, when she looked back at the guys, none of them looked like they were well "groomed" anyway, but after sleeping at a camp for two nights she didn't know what else to expect. The complaining, though, seemed a bit overkill in light of that.

"You all look like hell anyway, why complain about the wind messing up your hair now?"

"Hey, you're one to talk!"

"Yeah your hair looks just as bad!"

Iris looked between the younger men and their friend before shrugging. "Actually, this whole wind-swept look looks pretty good on her, I'm a little jealous."

"I know, dammit," Prompto looked defeated, running his fingers through his hair. "It's not fair."

"Neither are a lot of things Prom." The woman rolled her eyes, leading everyone around a bend. "Hey, looks like the Haven's over there, but it's got a lot of tide pools around it."

"Wait, is that a dock I see?"

"Well we know where Noctis will be spending his time until we leave."

"In that case, why not try and catch us something for dinner while we set up camp? Like I said before, we should take a chance to replenish our supplies while we can."

"On it!"

His cousin laughed as the King warped ahead of everybody, obviously eager to get to the dock and cast a line. Iris and her brother followed as closely as they could, with a few shouts to mind the erosion on the rocks around them, while the other three split off to start setting up camp. Thankfully Noctis had started storing everything in the armiger and summoned it all out for them before he summoned his fishing rod. So, while the boys set up the chairs and camp kitchen, Amara got to work pitching the tent for them, hammering the anchors into the rock with a fair amount of effort before she set about getting the sleeping bags all set out and ready for the inevitable crash that would come after whatever dinner her boyfriend would whip up with Noct's 'catch of the day'. Once her part of the work was done, she decided to walk over to the edge of the Haven and take a seat to watch Noctis fish for a bit, wondering for a moment how he would have any luck fishing in such a small area beside the literal ocean, before another thought crossed her mind. Looking back at her friends, she was a little hesitant to ask.

"Did King Regis like to fish too?"

"As I recall his majesty did enjoy a few magazines on the topic from time to time, so possibly." Ignis looked at her from where he was preparing a kettle of some sort by the camp stove. "Unfortunately, we'll never know for sure."

The woman took a slow, deep breath, turning her attention back to her friends below.

"Yeah… even though I saw it happen, I keep finding myself forgetting he's really… gone. I saw the Fall, saw nearly everything that happened, and I still don't always think it was real."

"But being a long-lost member of the royal line sunk right in?" Prompto plopped down next to her. "C'mon Ams, with everything that's happened recently, I think your whole revelation the other night was the only thing I could 'forget' was real."

"Yeah, you have a point."

"Let us not forget that her family tree bears two branches of nobility." Ignis came to join them with cups of coffee for them. Taking a place on Amara's free side, he took a moment to sip his drink before looking down to where his king, and friend, was arguing with Gladiolus about being a "backseat fisher". "What light may Lady Lunafreya yet shine on the situation? If she really did convene with your mother, the first Oracle, for so many years until Noctis led her to you, what might have been told, one Oracle to another, that the Kings of Yore couldn't possibly tell you?"

"A great deal, honestly." For a brief moment, she felt her mother's presence, flowing freely in the magic of the Haven. "For all we know, Luna could have a whole other side of the story to tell me. And honestly, I'm kind of afraid of knowing if I'm right about that."

"Ams?"

"Amara, what on Eos could possibly be left to tell that could frighten you?"

"I don't know. That's the scary part. With the Kings, it was all related to my powers as a Lucis Caelum, my place in the family tree - my Lucian lineage and all the attachments, good and bad." Amara looked down at her cup, watching the liquid give off a little bit of steam that was being carried away by the now dying wind. "I don't really know anything about the Fleuret side of myself. Even when I've talked to mother in the dreamscape, she hasn't told me anything about it. Uncle Somnus has been trying to keep the focus of the Caelum side."

"Y'know, it's a little unnerving to hear you talk about them like that," Prompto looked a little nervous. "I mean, yeah, you and Noct have always been a little weird when it came to stuff like that, but he never talked about dead relatives like this."

The woman paused, biting her lip for a moment. "It's like… They're not fully dead to me, and I think that's due to the Fleuret side. They can enter my dreams, appear as visions, all kinds of things. I know from Pip, Noct's guardian messenger, that he is building connections to the past kings from the Arms like I am, but I don't think they can speak to him the way they do with me." Ignis looked thoughtful for a moment, but before he could speak, the trio found themselves distracted by a commotion from the dock below. Noctis had reeled in a massive fish and had apparently spotted another judging by his quick recast. The advisor sighed softly, getting up from the edge.

"I best begin preparing for supper."

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bygosscarmine · 5 years

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W: Worlds Apart - Volume 3: Worlds Aligned

Kang Chul X Oh Yeon Joo - Fix-It Fic (T)

Read from beginning or find previous chapters here: Stories

Once again, Yeon Joo is doing a semblance of normal living in the company of Chul. Are they biding time until she’s free, though, or are they careening into another disastrous connection of their worlds?

Chapter 80 - Go Grocery Shopping Together (724 words)

"From what Do Yoon told me, you still are homeless and have no money," Chul said. "And now so am I, but I can at least get us some food. Is it all right if we go to the grocery store along the way to my place?"

"Sure," said Yeon Joo.

As they drove on in further silence, it occurred to her she didn't know why she had even come to him. It was just that as long as she was in W, it seemed a waste of time to be anywhere else. Sometimes a literal waste of time. But was she so selfish she was going to make herself a main character of Chul's story again? Would it warp around her even more? If she could just make herself stay away from him, would the story finally go on?

"I thought a lot about your note, and what you did for me, in the past weeks, month," Chul said, as if restarting a conversation from just moments ago. "You said you'd help me solve the problem, and I wondered how you'd do that. Then I thought probably you just wanted to be able to help."

That was the bitter truth, wasn't it?

"But I didn't see you or hear of you anywhere, and I thought that maybe it was a lie. Or maybe you knew the killer--were you an unwilling accomplice? Maybe even related to him? His daughter?"

Her neck prickled.

"But I hoped, all along, that you just wanted to help me because you knew I needed help. You seemed to know even better than I did what trouble I was in. How did you know that?"

This was a rather obvious opening for an admission--but she couldn't let herself tell him. She didn't know what to do next, but she needed more time to think about it.

"Or was it just that you hoped to fulfill a few last fantasies with a guy who looked like your lost husband?"

He was grinning at her, as she glared.

"Yes, I regularly have fantasies about dodging bullets and dragging swooning men into motel rooms," she replied.

"I dream about that day," he said, pretending to be smitten. "About having to slice open my own stomach, and give myself shots."

"Very sexy," Yeon Joo agreed.

Their eyes met, just for a brief moment before he turned his attention back to driving, but there was a charge there that she didn't like.

This was not the man she'd loved. He wasn't even really a man--he was boyish, his personality a sketch from a comic book. And it was so unfair that he looked so much like the person she'd risked so much for. The driven, fracturing man who had shot her father and tried to die jumping into the Han River. If she wasn't careful it could all happen again. Would it happen differently? No, she shouldn't want to know.

They got out of the car at the grocery store, and she looked him over without being too obvious. He wore jeans that fit well but didn't draw attention. His jacket was stylish but not flashy, and the cap he wore looked less like a fashion statement than a deliberate attempt at anonymity. He could have been a college student home from break in the country where his grandparents lived. Seoul polish acquired, but not eager to be razzed by old friends about his citified ways.

Then he pulled out a shopping cart and deftly navigated it into the narrow lanes of the grocery store, and she was reminded again that this was a different Chul than she had known--and also that he had lived months since she'd seen him a matter of days ago.

"Cheap and filling," he commented, as he picked out a pack of instant ramen. "There is rice at the house already but I used up the last eggs." So they went and got eggs from the refrigerated cases area.

"What do you eat for breakfast? Yogurt? Soup?"

"Leftovers from dinner, mostly," Yeon Joo answered, both amused and a little bewildered.

"I probably should have kimchi in my fridge," he mused. "What do you buy?"

"My mother would cry if I bought kimchi in the grocery store instead of eating hers or my aunt's," said Yeon Joo.

Which helped since none of the brands were quite real, and she could only form opinions based on their real world analogs.

Chul pursed his lips while gazing upon his choices and went with the organic one, though it was three dollars more.

"If we have kimchi, we can make stew," he said. "So let's pick up tofu and then go."

On their way to the car, he said, "We can drop these off then go to the fair, if you're feeling up to it. You didn't look very well when I picked you up."

"I am feeling better," Yeon Joo said politely.

"It can also wait until tomorrow," said Chul.

Could it? Would she still be here, biding her time? Or rather, his time? She liked that he had offered an alternative, not just deciding on his own. So she said, "I think I can do it today."

#W Two Worlds #kdrama #fanfiction #fic #korean drama #W Worlds Apart #Kang Chul #Oh Yeon Joo

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bored-fan-bs-thoughts · 5 years

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Fluff and Holiday Cheer: Chapter 4

I added some Kippen Sibling interactions and the possible beginnings of Ambi! Hope you enjoy!

If you missed Chapter 3, click here

----------

T.J. bursts into Amber’s room causing her to jump and throw her phone down on her bed.

“Please don’t burst in like that!” She yells frustrated.

“Sorry,” T.J. says half-heartedly before going in to a full-on rant. “How is it possible for one human being to be as adorable as Cyrus Goodman? I mean, come on! It’s not fair. His cute little rants and random dinosaur facts. His big chocolate-brown eyes and squish-able cheeks. And the smile that’s as bright as the sun. And don’t even get me started on the little shrug he does. Ugh I could die!”

“So you’re gay?” Amber questions, clearly taken aback by this new information.

“Oh yeah,” he laughs, “I’m gay. I’m surprised dad didn’t tell you.”

Amber just shrugs in response and pats her bed for T.J. to sit. As T.J. takes a seat, he notices Amber’s phone that is face up and open to her text conversation with Andi. He smiles up at her causing her to blush. The Kippen siblings are masters at non-verbal communication.

“Shut up,” She says, looking down embarrassed.

“I didn’t say anything,” T.J. responds throwing his hands up defensively.

“Let’s talk about Cyrus,” Amber says nudging her brother in the side.

“What else is there to say?” T.J. responds. “I mean he’s like a near perfect human. He’s inspired me to be a better person so I can be worthy of him.”

“I’ve noticed you’ve been in a much more pleasant mood lately,” Amber notes. “Is it because of him?”

“Yeah,” T.J. shrugs but his blush gives his feelings away. “He’s kind of amazing.”

Amber smiles and hugs T.J. She rubs his hair affectionately, and T.J. makes a weak attempt to escape her hair-ruining hands.

“Aww, even your hair is softer,” Amber notes. “You’re such a softie!”

She makes a move to squeeze his cheeks, but T.J. grabs her wrist and says, “I will kill you.” His harsh words, however, are undercut by his fond smirk.

“Are you going to tell him?” Amber asks.

“I think so,” T.J. responds, suddenly terrified of the impending conversation and potential rejection. “He’s coming over for Christmas, so I’ll have a lot of time with him alone. Dad thinks I should tell him then.”

“I agree,” Amber says. “You can do this.”

“Are you going to tell Andi?” T.J. questions with a poke to her side.

“Stop,” Amber purrs, “She’s probably straight anyway.”

“Just because she dated Jonah?” T.J. asks, “That’d be funny if two of Jonah’s ex-girlfriends dated.”

“Yeah,” Amber laughs grimly, “It’s not going to happen though.”

“Hey,” T.J. says comfortingly placing a hand on her shoulder. “She does seem to be spending a lot of time with you. You never know.”

“I love you, Teej,” She says as she picks up her phone and types out a response to Andi. T.J. attempts to look over her shoulder, earning him an elbow nudge to his side. He falls back onto the bed and begins to giggle.

T.J. hears a ding from his phone and notices the notification from Cyrus. He opens up his messages and sees a picture of the two of them from a few months ago causing him to smile like a dork. Amber smirks at T.J. suspiciously who shows her the picture, unable to speak. It depicted Cyrus trying to take a selfie, but his gaze was cast to T.J. who appeared to be wheezing with laughter. Underneath the picture was the text, “Candid pics are the best” with a red heart emoji.

“Ahh T.J.! Do you know what this means?” Amber squeals. “Why do you think anyone uses a red heart emoji?”

“It could just be like a bro thing,” T.J. suggests with a sheepish grin.

“No one ever just sends heart emojis as a bro thing,” she responds matter-of-factly. “T.J. are you actually this clueless?”

“I’m just scared to get my hopes up,” T.J. admits.

“It’s okay,” Amber comforts him, “Cyrus is kind and understanding. You have nothing to lose.”

“Except my dignity,” he mumbles.

A mischievous grin creeps onto her face as she says, “You didn’t have any to begin with.”

At this, T.J. forgets his worries as he pins her down aggressively. It would almost be intimidating, but his giggles give him away. Amber is accustomed to the attacks of her brother and she is able to hold her own agains the athletic teenager.

—————

Cyrus walks into The Spoon and immediately sees Andi sitting at her own booth in the corner of the restaurant. He walks up to her, and she looks up at him with a slight fear in her eyes.

“Are you waiting for someone?” Cyrus asks with worry lacing his voice.

She shakes her head no and gestures to the seat in front of her. “Just drowning my sorrows.”

Cyrus lets out an awkward laugh as he sits down and says, “I’m an expert at that.” When she doesn’t crack a smile, Cyrus shifts to a more serious disposition and asks, “What’s wrong?”

Andi lets out a shaky exhale and says, “How did you know you were gay?”

“I guess I just feel nervous around certain guys, my hands would sweat, and my heart would race,” he explains while thinking about T.J., “I realized that was how most guys feel about girls, and I didn’t really feel anything for them. I don’t know. Why do you ask?” She takes a deep, shaky breath refusing to make eye contact with him. “Andi, what’s wrong?” Cyrus asks again, reaching out to grab her hand.

“I think I might not be straight,” she finally lets out. Cyrus squeezes her hand reassuringly as a quiet symbol of his support and to urge her to continue. “I came here today to talk to Amber, but I got scared.”

“So you have a crush on Amber?” Cyrus questions for clarification.

“Why is it so hard to tell your crush that you like them?” Andi laments.

“I’m pretty sure that’s just a human thing, not a gay thing,” Cyrus comments. Then, struck with curiosity, he asks, “So are you bi or…”

“I don’t know,” She answers honestly.

“I like it,” Cyrus nods and smiles earning a relieved smile from Andi.

For the first time, Andi releases her stress a bit. Her breath feels easier and she lets out a nervous laugh before asking, “So what brings you here?”

“My guess is he’s waiting for my brother,” Amber suddenly says, startling Andi and Cyrus.

“H-hi Amber,” Andi stutters out, a light blush beginning to tint her cheeks. Amber wears a similar expression, but only Cyrus seems to notice.

Ignoring the two lovesick girls and longing for a bit of clarification, Cyrus asks “Your brother?”

“Yeah,” Amber responds nonchalantly, “T.J. Kippen.”

Cyrus can’t hide the surprise in his voice as he gasps out, “You’re his lesbian sister who used to date Jonah.” Then, realizing he may have just outed her to Andi, he clasps a hand over his mouth and mumbles an apology.

Amber simply laughs and nods, clearly confident in her sexuality, something that Cyrus is somewhat jealous of. Clearly it’s a Kippen trait to just not give a shit what other’s think.

“Well, I have to go do my job,” Amber says reluctantly, then casting a soft look directly at Andi, she says, “It was nice to see you guys,” and walks to another table.

“Did you see that?” Cyrus squeals. “She was so flirting with you.”

“Stop it,” Andi says burying her face in her hands. “She definitely wasn’t.”

“Yeah, she was,” Cyrus pushes, “How can you not see that?”

“I don’t know,” Andi answers. “How can you not see that T.J. is totally in love with you?”

At this, Cyrus begins to stutter and blush. He shakes his head and says, “I just don’t want to get my hopes up.”

Andi leans forward and takes Cyrus’s hands in hers. “Cyrus, he’s gay. He clearly cares about you,” Andi explains comfortingly with a reassuring smile. “He would be an idiot to turn you down. And if he’s a jerk about it, Buffy and I will literally beat him up.”

“I don’t need you to do that,” Cyrus giggles. “I have been invited to his house for Christmas.”

Before Andi can respond, she notices T.J. walking through the door and waves him over. Cyrus turns to see T.J. and enthusiastically waves at him. This causes him to break out into the widest grin as he walks to Cyrus. He looks somewhat disappointed upon seeing Andi there, but he forces out a pleasant smile as he greets them before directing his attention solely to Cyrus. They begin to discuss their school days and Cyrus’s first couple days of Hanukkah. T.J. once again finds himself staring at the boy as he talks excitedly about the gifts he’s been given so far. Andi’s focus, however, begins to drift off to the other Kippen sibling who is helping another booth on the opposite side of the diner. The blonde haired girl turns around to look at her, and Andi waves and ducks her head nervously. Cyrus kicks her under the table earning a concerned look from T.J.

“Stop being so obvious,” Cyrus whispers. “You’re staring too much.”

“Wait,” T.J. says, “Do you like Amber?”

Blushing too much to be able to deny it, Andi squeezes her eyes shut and nods affirmatively. When she looks again, T.J. is wearing an expression of shock and joy that makes Andi question what he’s thinking.

“Andi,” He begins, nearly unable to keep his voice down, “You have to tell her! Like, now. Please!” Andi shakes her head puts it on the table. “I promise you,” T.J. urges, “You’ll be fine. I promise.”

She is about to make a sarcastic comment, but she notices complete sincerity in T.J.’s eyes. “Maybe later,” she responds, eager to shut down the conversation.

T.J. accepts this and turns back to Cyrus. “What do you have planned for the rest of Hanukkah?” T.J. asks the boy.

“Oh, tomorrow is the day I spend with all four of my parents, and they kind of told me I should invite you,” Cyrus explains nervously. “They will probably ruthlessly question you about everything, but they’re super set on you coming.”

“I’d love to come,” T.J. responds before he can let the nervousness of a dinner with all of his crush’s therapist parents sink in.

Cyrus and T.J. smile at each other, and T.J. feels his cheeks heat up. He, unknowingly, got closer to Cyrus during their conversation, and he is currently pressed up against him and staring directly into his deep brown eyes from only a couple centimeters away. Neither of them notice Andi’s eye roll at their obviousness and Amber approaching the table.

—————

The next day, Cyrus waits outside the boy’s locker room. He knows that T.J. says his teammates are totally cool with him being gay, but he doesn’t know how they’ll react to him being there. He stayed after school for a Film Club interest meeting and he told T.J. that he would wait for him after practice, so here he stands in the musky middle school hallway that smells faintly of mold waiting for his popular jock best friend (and crush). His mind wanders off to think about the beautiful green glow of the boy’s eyes (as he often finds himself doing nowadays), but he is pulled out of his dreams by an unfamiliar voice.

“Hey man,” Chris says, startling Cyrus like crazy. He is not used to basketball players talking to him (except T.J. of course). “You’re Cyrus, right?”

“Uh yeah,” Cyrus responds suspiciously, “How do you know my name?”

“You come to every game. You’re our biggest fan,” Chris answers coolly. “Plus, T.J. talks about you all the time.”

“All good things I hope,” Cyrus laughs nervously while feeling his cheeks heat up.

“Of Course,” Chris assures him, “I’m pretty sure he’s your biggest fan.”

“Cyrus knows he’s not able to hide the blush that makes it’s way onto his cheeks at that statement. He smiles and looks down to avoid Chris’s eyes and prays that he won’t take notice of his red cheeks.

Chris breaks the silence by asking, “So, are you waiting for Kippen?”

“Yeah,” he answers, “We’re headed to my house for Hanukkah. Why he wants to be ruthlessly interrogated by my parents over steaming latkes is beyond me.”

“I think I know,” He says grinning mischievously.

Cyrus is about to ask what he means, but he’s interrupted by a certain dirty-blonde haired basketball captain emerging from the boy’s locker room. His hair is freshly washed and adorably disheveled, and somehow he’s even more unfairly gorgeous than he’s ever been. It takes everything in Cyrus’s power not to drool at the mere sight of him.

He is broken out of his trance when he notices the nervous look on T.J.’s face as he approaches them.

“Chris, are you torturing Cyrus?” He asks placing a protective hand on Cyrus’s shoulder.

“Relax man,” Chris says, “Goodman and I were just having a chat.”

Cyrus nods and attempts to maintain his composure with T.J.’s arm around him, but he’s sure he looks like a tomato. T.J. looks at him to confirm Chris’s statement, and Cyrus forces out a chill bro-like smile before retreating back to his panicked state.

“Well, I know you guys have holiday plans so I will leave you to it,” Chris says. “It was nice to meet you, Cyrus.” He gives Cyrus the classic bro-hug before shoving T.J.’s shoulder, ruffling his already messy hair, and walking away.

“Are you ready to light the menorah and be ruthlessly questioned by all four of my parents at the same time?” Cyrus asks turning to T.J. with a sarcastic smile.

“I can’t wait,” T.J. answers. He wants to add ‘anything to hang out with you’, but he worries that would sound way too flirty. T.J. is confident in his sexuality, but he still doubts that the boy of his dreams could ever return his affections.

Cyrus simply nods and lets out a light laugh. As he begins to walk out the door, he gestures with his head for T.J. to follow him.

----------

Tag list: @hithatsmyname @blueberry-my-hero-macadamia

#andi mack #tyrus #tyrus fanfics #muffy #ambi #kippen siblings #cyrus goodman #tj kippen

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not-close-to-straight · 6 years

Text

I See You (SWS #28)(Ghost!Peter)

This has a PART TWO!

SUNDAYS WITH SPIDEYPOOL MASTERLIST

*******************

The therapist had suggested a new apartment, had said that moving on would be easier if he wasn’t surrounded by his old life, by the things that had made up his life with Vanessa before all the...all the everything happened.

She hadn’t been wrong.

It was infinitely easier to sleep at night when he couldn’t roll over and push his face into Vanessa’s old pillow and wish she was there. Easier to force himself out of bed when the new bathroom had a fancy shower head with all sort of...interesting options. Easier to make himself eat when the kitchen wasnt decorated with their mismatched pots and pans and funny sticky notes on the dirty fridge.

Easier to deal with his new fucking face when he had torn down all the mirrors and tossed them away and now only clean white walls stared back at him.

Easier to go a little crazy this way too.

Two months Wade had been in this new place and he felt like maybe he hated it to his soul, but he didn’t know what else to do. Vanessa was gone. His looks and his charm were gone. Francis had been rude enough to die in an actual accident that Wade had had no part in, or had even been there to witness.

He had dedicated so much time to finding Francis and plotting every way he was going to make that fucker pay that now that it was over Wade didn’t know what to do with himself.

At least he had had a mission. A purpose.

Now he was just a regular guy with an astonishing temper and a fantastically fucked up face living in a bland little apartment, trying to see a therapist to work through his (countless) issues, and staring at plain white walls long enough that he thought he really might be losing whatever was left of his sanity.

Especially when he started hearing voices.

Well not voices. One voice. Just the one. Singing or humming, sometimes talking, sometimes crying.

It flitted in and out of his mind ever so often, and the first time Wade had heard it he had whipped around thinking someone was standing in his apartment, because he had heard the song as if someone had sang it in his ear.

The second time it sounded more like it was coming from outside and he had gone to the window fully prepared to yell at some loud ass kids, only to realize there was no one on the street at all.

Maybe it was music from one of the surrounding apartments? Or people walking down the hall? Or maybe it was weird radio interference?

Wade searched desperately for what the voice could be, until he finally had to admit that maybe the voice was him. Maybe another side affect of this shitty new life was a psychological break, and now he really was crazy.

And he sat in his new apartment staring at the white walls and thought, “Yeah alright. I could go crazy. It wouldn’t be the worst thing to ever happen.”

**********************

Wade made his peace with his fracturing mind. The music wasnt half bad. The voice in his head was even a little soothing. It was like having someone else there in the apartment with him, and that wasn’t...terrible.

(his therapist would disagree, but he stopped seeing her weeks ago)

One day he even thought to say something back to the voice. Maybe if he said something aloud, his other personality would answer and hey, that would be like having a friend, wouldn’t it?

So he sat and waited. Stared at nothing until his eyes started to blur and then just on the edges of his consciousness--

“Say Becky, was you ever engaged?”

Wade blinked. “Um, once. And my name isn’t Becky.”

Silence in the room then, and Wade was struck by the oddest sensation of someone watching him, but he didn’t turn from the wall. “Were you ever engaged?” he asked tentatively, feeling entirely ridiculous for expecting an answer, but then--

“Are you talking to me?”

“Who else would I be talking to?” he snorted. “Just me and you in here, isnt there? Unless there’s another voice or two hidden in my head?”

“In your head.” The voice was cleared now, not quite as whispery. “Is that what you think?”

“Um--” Wade blinked at the wall again, his senses going into overdrive when he got the impression of being approached, like someone was walking towards him.

“Can you see me?” the voice asked. “Or just hear me?”

“No, I cant see you.” Wade said in irritation, and then he was screeching at the top of his lungs, scrambling backwards over the couch and landing on the floor in an ungraceful heap, snatching his gun and sending several rounds right into the boy standing in front of him.

Or rather, sending several rounds through the boy standing in front of him.

“Oh my god, you can see me!” the boy--teenager--college kid? said in excitement, and Wade started screeching again when he walked through the couch and knelt in front of him. “Stop screaming. Stop--stop screaming.” he was smiling, his hands reached out like he was going to touch Wade, and well, Wade was not about to have that, so he sent another round point blank into the kids face and---

---nothing.

“That’s irritating.” the ghost/spirit/thing huffed. “Stop that.”

“What in the fuck?” Wade blurted. “What the fuck. What in the ever loving actual fuck is going on? What the fu--”

“Yes, you said that already.” the other one said mildly. “I dont understand why you can see me. A hundred years Ive been stuck here and no one has ever seen me and now you can see me and I dont understand--” he was staring at Wade like he was fascinated, words tumbling from his mouth almost faster than Wade could keep up, but that could have been because Wade was pretty sure he had gone completely insane this time and his mind had screeched to a complete stop before completely shattering.

“Oh. You’re not crazy.” the ghost shook his head. “I’m really here. Well not here. Im sort of in between worlds. Which makes me wonder if you are--” without stopping to ask permission, and before Wade could think to run the fuck away, the ghost stuck his hands directly into Wade’s chest and first it was blinding cold and then raging heat and the last thing Wade remembered before passing out was the boys eyes widening in surprise, and the entirely unsettling thought that the ghost had the prettiest smile he had ever seen.

*********************

Wade was still on the floor when he came to, and he shook his head to clear it of the ridiculous dream, retrieved his gun and flinched at the bullet holes in his previously perfect wall and stood to stumble to the bathroom to take a shower and wipe away the soreness from being on the floor all night.

Well that was the plan, anyway, until he looked over at the couch and saw that fucking kid sitting there calmly, hands clasped in his lap, an eager smile on his face.

“Nope.” Wade shook his head. “Nopety nope. Fuck no. You aren’t there. I’m not seeing things. Hearing voices is one thing. Hallucinations is another. I’m not even high. Its not fair to see things if I’m not even high.” he took a deep breath. “When I come back from my shower? You better be ghosted the fuck out of here, you understand?”

He slammed the door to the bathroom and turned the water as hot as it could go, turned to reach for a towel--

--and screamed all over again when the kid appeared in front of him.

“Good Christ.” Wade put a hand over his heart. “What are you doing?”

“You don’t understand.” the other one grinned all over again. “You can see me. This is incredible.”

“Is it?” Wade deadpanned. “Because I’m starting to feel like checking myself into a mental asylum.”

“No, its incredible!” the ghost enthused. “You’re incredible. Your soul hovers in the same plane I do, and that’s why you can see me.”

“Alright.” Wade took a deep breath. “I’ve snapped. Its fine. Due to happen, right? I’m going to take my shower, call my therapist and--”

“My names Peter!” the ghost blurted. “Peter. What’s your name?”

“Wade.” he answered, because why not? Why wouldn’t he talk to the hallucination/ghost/imaginary friend.

“Wade.” The ghost-- Peter-- kept smiling and Wade blinked at the happiness in it. “This is wonderful. Thank you. Thank you for seeing me.”

“Um. You’re welcome?”

Peter reached out then, and for all of two seconds Wade could feel his hand, solid and warm, on his scarred skin before it cooled and slid through.

Oh yeah. Yeah, Im batshit crazy.

**************************

He wasn’t crazy, or at least that’s what Peter kept assuring him.

“I’m real.” Peter said for what must have been the thousandth time as Wade eyeballed him suspiciously over his cereal. “Well, sort of real. A ghost. You really see me, you’re not going crazy.”

“Im real.” Peter said again, days later when Wade came out of his bedroom and literally walked through him. “It was rude of you to walk through me, but Im really here.”

Wade was too icked out by the thought of walking through someone, and the lingering chill in his bones to answer.

“Im here.” Peter sighed impatiently, when it had been two weeks and Wade narrowed his eyes and threw a book at Peter, watching in fascination as it slowed to pass through Peters skin and then hit the wall with a thump. “Stop throwing things at me, please!”

“Explain.” Wade finally said one day, plopping on to the couch and then jumping awkwardly up and moving to another chair when Peter sat on the couch next to him. “Explain this.”

“I died a long time ago.” Peter explained. “Here before this building was born and my soul is tied to the land. No one can see me, or hear me and I’ve been wandering around this building for decades.”

“Not this apartment specifically?” Wade asked carefully, his therapists number already dialed in his phone just in case.

“No.” Peter spread his hands vaguely. “You trapped me here. I was wandering through and you took down all the mirrors and now I cant leave.”

“My bad.” Wade muttered, and Peter only grinned at him. “So thats why I can see you? Because you’re trapped?”

“No, you can see me--” Peter leaned forward, brown eyes sparkling and a flush in his cheeks which was... odd...because Wade had always assumed ghosts were see through, not that they looked like cute guys from the 1800s.

“You can see me because of your--” Peter motioned to his face then pointed to Wade. “Whatever this is, keeps your soul somewhere between life and death, like mine. When I touched you that first day--”

“When you violated my chest with your creepy hands?” Wade interrupted.

“Yes.” again, with the little blush and Wade was annoyed by how much he liked it. “When I touched you, I felt your soul. Whatever happened to you keeps you from dying right?”

“Right...” Wade hedged.

“But you aren’t really.... alive?” Peter raised an eyebrow. “Right? I mean, being alive is basically the ability to die right? And you don’t have that ability. Our souls are on the same sort of plane, and I’m trapped in your apartment, so you can see me and talk with me and oh my god--” he laughed, clear and sweet. “I’ve been so lonely for so long and now you’re here and I can actually talk to you! Its incredible!”

“Right.” Wade said again. “Incredible.”

“This is weird for you?” Peter asked, looking upset. “You... you don’t want me here?”

“Actually.” Wade ran his hand over his scalp, scratching idly and then flinching at the pain. “I’m weirded out because you’re awfully pretty for a ghost. I thought you would be blue and see through and blurry. Not looking like someone Id pick up from a bar.”

“Oh!” Peters eyes lit (fuck Wade hated how much he liked it). “You’re awfully pretty too.”

“You’re full of shit, baby boy.” Wade said calmly and got up from the chair. “Do you want me to put up a mirror so you can leave?”

“Um. No?” Peter looked terribly unsure all the sudden. “Do you want me to leave?”

“Talking with a ghost is better than thinking Im going crazy.” Was all Wade said. “Goodnight.”

*********************

It was a weird life, sharing an apartment with a ghost, but Wade had adapted to a lot of weird shit in the last few years so really it wasnt an issue.

Peter didnt eat of course, but he sat with Wade during every meal and made polite conversation. After Wade had shouted at him a few times, Peter had stopped just appearing in the bathroom, explaining sheepishly that he forgot to observe walls and doors when he could just walk through them.

The bedroom was another issue, since Peter didn’t need to sleep he simply stood and watched and that was creepy even for Wade, so after another heated discussion, Peter had stopped doing that too.

They settled into something of a pattern and it was a little domestic and sort of sweet how happy Peter was anytime Wade came home and it certainly didnt hurt that the kid was gorgeous, right? All long limbs and big eyes and a ridiculous smile and an annoying (adorable and fairly sexy) way of biting at his bottom lip when he got excited.

“I ran off to join the circus when I was eighteen.” Peter explained one day and Wade said a silent prayer of thank the fucking lord that he had died at over eighteen-- and wow wasnt that a screwed up thought to have?

“What did you do in the circus?” he asked, only to keep his mind away from that sort of thought about the ghost.

“I was a trapeze artist.” Peter grinned. “Something amazing about flying like that. Flipping through the air and only having those strings to hold you up. We didn’t have nets and it was such a thrill to be that high up and know that you could die if you weren’t careful.”

“Trapeze artist, huh?” Wade was the worst, because he heard trapeze artist and thought bendy and that was... that had to be messed up right? “So what happened?”

“There wasn’t a net.” Peter explained sheepishly. “And I tried something ridiculous and fell. It wasn’t pretty.”

“Uh, yeah. I bet not.”

Another day, Wade was pacing in the apartment, rubbing at his head, irritated because his skin hurt and he had had nightmares the night before and hadnt slept and god he was cranky and finally collapsed face down on the couch to scream into a pillow--

--And cool hands landed on his back, touching just barely over his skin and numbing the sting and Wade took a shaky breath and asked, “Does it feel gross to you?”

“All I can feel is your warmth.” Peter explained, working his hands lower and smiling over the groan of relief Wade gave him. “Im always cold, and you’re so warm, I love it.”

“Oh.”

Cool hands smoothing over his butt and working down his legs and Wades eyes flew open in alarm when he started...responding... because it was weird enough that there was a ghost giving him a back rub but it was even weirder that he was apparently popping a boner over it but hey, the ghost was a hottie and it had been a long time since Wade had even thought to--

“Roll over for me.” Peter suggested, and then he laughed. “Or I could just get under you I guess. Could just phase through the couch and--”

“Nope!” Wade blurted. “Dont!”

“Do my hands feel bad?” Peter frowned. “I know you can only feel them for a few seconds before they give way, but--”

“Nope. Everything feels good.” he said through gritted teeth. “Really really good. Thank you. Move away please.”

“Oh. Alright.”

That night was the first night Wade shoved his pajama pants down and took himself in hand, fully prepared to jerk off to the image of big brown eyes and slim hands and those stupid long legs and the way Peters lips parted when he smiled--

---but then he felt gross over it and pulled his pants back up, throwing an arm over his eyes and willing his arousal to lessen.

This was weird even by his standards.

********************

It started getting more difficult for Wade to leave the apartment, knowing Peter couldn’t go with him, and the money from his mercenary days was more than enough to pay for the apartment and food so Wade ended up spending every day just... home. Watching TV, or reading, or learning how to cook more and more complex meals, with Peter reading from the recipe books and telling him stories from his life before.

Eventually, Wade started walking around the apartment with less clothes on, content with Peters constant reassurance that he didn’t care about his skin.

“Really, I see your soul.” Peter explained one day. “I mean, yeah, I see you physically, but because our souls are on the same plane, that is more obvious to me.”

“Besides.” his voice softened then. “You’re gorgeous, so even if I couldn’t see your soul I would stare.”

“You’re full of shit, baby boy.” Wade rolled his eyes, but couldn’t deny that it made him feel good and when Peter reached for his hand, Wade lay his palm out so Peter could bring their fingertips together, phasing in and out of being corporeal, the cool touch coming and going every few seconds.

And when Peter finally did ask about the scars, Wade told him all about the cancer and Vanessa and Francis and his revenge, and fully expected Peter to do that adorable nose wrinkle he did when he was disgusted, but instead Peter just smiled sadly and said how sad he was that Wade had had such a hard go of it.

“Maybe I’m happy, though.” he said cautiously. “Because if it hadn’t happened, then you wouldn’t be able to see me and Id still be here, and lonely.”

They held hands again after that and when Wade went to bed, Peter stood on his toes (frankly, adorable, because it was such a human thing to do) and tried to kiss Wade, his lips solid for only a second before they dissipated.

It was odd, but it was wonderful and Wade realized one day that he had gone and fucking fallen in love, and if there was ever a time to call his therapist, that would have been it. But instead he put in Patrick Swayze’s Ghost and justified that if Demi could be in love with a ghost, then so could he.

And then at some point, Peter started sleeping in bed next to him.

Or not so much sleeping as he was lying there with his eyes closed, with one hand resting on Wade’s chest because he knew Wade slept better with someone else there.

They never talked about it, never brought it up, just let it happen because it made them both happy.

They also never talked about the day Wade had finally given in and gotten himself off in the shower thinking about Peter, wishing he was solid and real and then Wade could really hold him like he wanted to. Hold him and kiss him and press him into the bed and---

And when he was done, he had walked out the door to see Peter staring at him and biting his lip, cheeks flushing red, and his hands trembling a little when he reached out to touch Wade’s cheek. His fingers had seemed solid for longer that time, brushing over Wade’s rough skin sweetly, before fading again.

It came up eventually that Peter had been reciting The Adventures of Tom Sawyer, that first day that Wade had heard him. He had read the book so many times, he had it memorized and it was the only thing that kept him from feeling lonely.

Wade ordered a Kindle that same day and uploaded as many books as he could onto it and gave it to Peter as a present, confident that he could be solid enough for the split second it could take to turn pages on the e-reader.

Peter didnt speak for a solid week after that, his nose almost pressed to the screen, lips moving as he devoured the books.

Wade woke up one morning to Peter started sleeping on his side with what was probably the cutest ass Wade had ever seen (or not seen, since it was ghostly and all that) budged up into Wade’s hips, his Kindle on the bed next to him, a sleepy smile on his lips.

“Pete?” Wade asked quietly, and the boy opened his eyes and leaned up to press a kiss to Wade’s lips, just barely there before it was gone, and then cool hands down his sides before Peter snuggled close-- or as close as he could before moving through Wade, anyway.

“So um, men then?” Wade said awkwardly. “Or is it just because I bought you books?”

“Men.” Peter assured him, then shyly smiled and whispered, “But really its just you, Wade.”

***********************

“So almost a hundred years, sweet cheeks?” Wade asked and Peter nodded, drawing his fingers in idle patterns over Wade’s bare chest and down to his stomach. “Why are you stuck here?”

“I don’t know.” Peter admitted. “At first I thought it was some sort of purgatory. The first few decades I wasn’t solid at all. Just wavering there, could see through my own hands-- it was horrifying. Maybe twenty or thirty years ago I started being able to actually talk again, and now I’m physically for a few seconds at a time.” he held up his hands in explanation. “Ten seconds is about my max, but I think being here with you is making it longer.”

“You look tired today.” Wade said in concern. “I’ve never seen you look tired.”

“I feel tired.” Peter complained and leaned his head against Wade’s shoulder, frowning when he phased through almost immediately. “I dont really know whats going on.”

“Maybe your purgatory sentence is almost up.” Wade meant it to be teasing, but Peters eyes widened in fear.

“I don’t want to die, though.” he whispered. “Im terrified of dying, Wade. I just got used to being here. What will happen to me?”

“Oh, baby boy, I didn’t think--” Wade bit his tongue to keep from saying anything stupid. “I don’t really think--”

“I don’t want to die Wade!” Peter was panicking now. “I don’t want to leave you!”

“Shhh, sugar buns. Its alright.” Usually the boy loved Wades names for him, and would blush and smile, but today it only set him off further.

“No! No! I don’t want to! I like being here with you! If I go somewhere else Ill be so alone!” Peter cried. “You will be alone and I dont want that! I dont!”

“Easy. Easy, baby boy. We will figure it out.” Wade reached for Peter, but his hands passed right through him and Peter nearly screamed when he couldnt make himself solid for ever a few seconds.

“Wade!”

****************

Wade didn’t quite know what to do with himself after Peter left. Or disappeared. Or poofed or whatever it was ghosts did.

It was weird-- one day he was there, and then the next day he was a little less there and then one morning Wade woke up and Peter was no where to be found.

He hung a mirror in the hall, just in case Peter managed to find a way back, but it never happened.

There’s wasn’t much to do without Peter to keep him company, so Wade started taking jobs again, traveling further and further from the States as he did, and the money from doing the mercenary thing was even better now that he was basically un-killable, so he took more and more jobs, amping up the danger because it was the only thing to keep him from thinking too much.

Word got around of course, about the loud mouth Merc who didnt seem to die, and he caught the attention of the Avengers-- the too pretty to be real Tony Stark, and the slice of All American beef that was Captain America. Black Widow was fucking terrifying and Hawkeye was at least chill-- he and Wade could crack jokes behind the others back in sign language and that was fun.

Every once in a while around the Avengers Tower Wade caught sight of an intern with thick brown hair and long legs and he always stopped himself from going after the kid.

The intern couldn’t help that he looked like the ghost Wade had fallen in love with twenty years ago.

(That was a weird sentence, even in Wade’s head.)

But then-- then-- Wade met Spiderman and was instantly in love.

The kid was smart mouthed and sassy and fucking bendy and he flew through the air like he was on a damn trapeze and Wade loved it. Spidey teased him and wrestled with him and spent nights eating burritos back to back so they didn’t accidentally see each others face and it was the first time in a long time that Wade felt something close to normal.

“So you gonna bless me with your name, or should I start giving you nicknames?” Wade asked one night as they scarfed down chinese food. “I mean, I did save your life tonight. I think you owe me at least that much.”

“At least my name?” Spidey snorted. “The hell you do.”

“Have it your way, baby boy.” Wade said nonchalantly, and was surprised to realize that saying the nickname still made his chest tighten and his heart hurt a little bit.

He wouldn’t ever be over that ghost, would he?

“Spidey?” he asked, when the kid didn’t say anything.

“Um. You could tell me your name?” The words were a little muffled, as if Spidey had pulled his mask back down.

“Wade.” he said instantly. “You can call me Wade, or sir, or daddy, or whatever--ooph!”

Wade fell over when the solid pressure of Spidey at his back disappeared, and he turned just in time to see the kid web off the roof and out into the dark.

“Rude.” he sighed. “Kids these days.”

******************************

Wade had never moved from his apartment. Partly for the sentiment, partly because he never really quit hoping Peter would come back, partly because he was too fucking lazy to move.

But the building had all but been abandoned now, not the upscale apartments it had been thirty years ago, and Wade had most of the tenth floor to himself, which made it completely unexpected and fairly weird that someone knocked on his door sometime close to three am.

“Who the fuck--?” he groaned and pulled himself out of bed, foregoing his mask because the only people around this time of night were cops or druggies and he had no problem shocking either of them. He had been dreaming about Peter again, and wondered irritably when that lovely habit would stop. It had been almost twenty five years at this point.

Enough was enough. He was tired of feeling heart broken after all this fucking time.

More knocking at his door and Wade dragged on a pair of pants and stomped towards the hallway.

“What the fuck do you want?” he ripped his door open. “Who the hell-- Spidey?” he glanced down the empty hallway then back at the web slinger in front of him. “What are you doing here?”

“Wade?” Spidey asked hesitantly, and the soft voice was so achingly close to Peter that Wade almost shut the door in his face.

“Yeah.” Wade nodded, then motioned to his face. “Surprise. Sorry. What do you want? Usually Id be down for some Spider Booty but, baby boy its been a hell of a night so maybe you should--”

“Wade.” Again, just as soft, and Spidey pulled his mask off right there in the hallway to stare up at him. “I cant believe you still live here.”

Wade blinked down at him, down at Peter--

--and promptly shut the door.

Then he nearly tore it off his hinges opening it again, and asked, “If I try to shoot you, will you bleed?”

“Like a bitch.” Peter nodded and started laughing, even as tears slid down his cheeks. “I cant believe I didnt realize it was you all this time. I mean, I thought it was you, but I never knew your name, and you never took off your mask and then you called me baby boy and--”

He lunged forward like he wanted to kiss him, and Wade put a hand up to stop him. “Explain.” he demanded. “Right now.”

“After I--poofed?” Peter offered. “I um... I was born. My soul was recycled or whatever, and I kept having flashes back to my other life and my time as a ghost and when I met you they started to get worse and then tonight you told me your name and its like all these memories came crashing back and--”

“You are talking really fast.” Wade pointed out, and Peter blushed and bit at his lip.

“Sorry. I just-- I cant believe-- did you know it was me?”

“Do I look like I knew it was you?”

“Its me.” Peter nodded his head and reached for Wade’s hand to bring it to his cheek. “It’s me. I promise. I don’t understand why or how or anything like that, but Im right here. Im really here. You aren’t crazy.”

He hesitated, twisted his mask in his hand anxiously. “Can you-- can you see me?”

“Yeah baby boy.” Wade brought his other hand up to frame Peters face, rubbing his thumbs through the tears. “Yeah, I see you.”

**********************************

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