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#surprised no one else has drawn him in them but i have been avoiding tumblr so maybe i just didn’t see it
twinkskeletons · 1 year
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new boot goofin
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Whispered Truth, Spoken Lies
Malec | Rated general | tw mention of biphobia, racism | Canon Compliant, in that canon never directly denies this, 5+1 things, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fluff and Humor, Demisexual Magnus Bane
Summary: 5 times somebody else tells Magnus something about Alec, and one time Magnus tells Alec something about himself.
A/N: Written for the Shadowhunters Ace Mini Bang.
Thanks to Liron for the beta and for organising this whole event!
Check out the amazing art (you can see it below the cut or on Twitter and Tumblr) by Xani (@soulless-baka, Xani9, or love_xani)!
Inspiration for the first scene drawn from the @malecdiscordserver and this Twitter thread.
Read it on AO3 or below the cut.
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1. Izzy
Today, Alec thinks rather giddily with an arm wrapped around Magnus’ shoulders, is unquestionably the best day of his life. 
How could it not be? The numerous threats that have loomed over them over the last few months — over the entirety of their relationship — are gone; most, if not all, of their family and friends have made it out alive; and, most importantly, they’re married. This is their wedding day. Alec’s not usually one for sappiness, but today, it’s well-deserved. 
Magnus grins up at him like he can read his mind and agrees, like he too feels the warmth that fills Alec up with love. They’ve been glued to each other all evening; the longest they’ve been separated today was because Izzy split them up to get them dressed for the wedding, and that only lasted an hour before they were at the altar together. Throughout the reception — including Jace’s hilarious but surprisingly meaningful best man speech — they’ve stuck together, unwilling to let the other one out of sight, and Alec wouldn’t have it any other way. Whenever things got a bit chaotic, because Alec loves his family and tolerates large Clave gatherings but doesn’t exactly adore parties per se, Magnus was there with soft touches and warm smiles that brought it all back down to just the two of them. 
But now, the chaos appears to be winding down — or not, Alec amends, watching Izzy step gracefully up onto the table. Her heels are fully eight inches tall, and he’s not sure how she can put them on, let alone stand up in them, but she doesn’t sway and manages to avoid stepping on any chinaware. 
Silence falls, heads turning in surprise, and when she has enough attention to satisfy herself, Izzy activates a rune on the wall which lights the wall up like a screen reading, in bold lettering, ALEC’S GLASS CLOSET. 
Alec feels heat rise preemptively in his face. This is going to be embarrassing. 
“Hello, everybody!” she declares cheerily. “This has been much more fun than Alec’s first wedding” — she and Jace are taking every possible chance to make digs about that, especially as Lydia is in attendance today; it is nevertheless true that the bright colours and grins on every face beat out the sober, polite, Clave-sanctioned smiles of his attempted marriage to Lydia — “but I think Alec can stand to blush a bit more, so I’ve made a presentation.”
She snaps her fingers, and the screen changes to something Alec automatically recognises as security footage from within the Institute, displaying a younger Alec — perhaps eighteen? — standing in Ops. As the wedding crowd watches, one of the other Shadowhunters turns away, and Alec’s eyes flick down to his ass, then up. Titters break out as the scene changes, to a different camera’s viewpoint, and the same thing happens again, with somebody else; Alec doesn’t want to know how much trawling through camera feeds Izzy’s done to come up with this, but despite the blush staining his cheeks, it is objectively hilarious. 
The scenes move forward in time as the presentation goes on; Alec grows from a still-gangly eighteen-year-old to a broader 21 over the compilation. He’d thought he was subtle about checking guys out, but clearly not; Izzy’s found enough vids to fill minutes, even though each one is barely seconds long. He doesn’t ever check out Jace; it’s not in the recording, but Alec knows that every time he caught himself looking at his parabatai like that, he’d felt a rush of shame strong enough to glue his eyes to the floor. 
Clary and co. show up with a bang — Alec had forgotten about that time he’d checked Simon out, but clearly Izzy’s managed to hack something or other to obtain footage — and it’s only a moment later that Magnus shows up. 
There’s a fair bit of laughter when the videos promptly become a series of shots of Alec admiring Magnus, and Alec thinks he’s probably red up to the roots of his hair. Magnus is laughing along with the rest, though, and Alec can’t help the besotted look he sends him. (Jace, on his other side, mutters something about now they’re doing it again, but Alec quite cheerfully ignores him. Jace has been complaining about their sappiness all evening, but the sappiness in their parabatai bond belies his words.)
The last image is their kiss at the wedding, and Izzy’s beaming as the wall returns to its normal colour. “Jace got to be best man — parabatai rights, yada yada yada — but I’m making my own speech, so listen up.”
The crowd quiets a bit. “As you can see, Alec’s never been as closeted as he thought he was—” she pauses for the sniggers to die down “—but he was never able to be open about it, either. I’d known he was gay for years, but I didn’t dare say anything, and he thought I’d reject him for it if I knew.” 
Alec feels his throat tighten, but with emotion rather than the fear he would’ve felt a few months earlier if he’d known his sexuality wasn’t as secret as he thought. He’s learnt, over the past months, that both Jace and Izzy already knew and that Maryse suspected, but it hasn’t really sunk in yet. Magnus squeezes his hand, and he feels a surge of impossible gratitude for him, for all of them. For the life he has now, in which he can hold hands with the man who’s turned his life upside down in the very best of ways, in which he can lead an Institute and love a Downworlder. 
Izzy’s face brightens into a less serious smirk. “Also, we all noticed that he stopped checking out other guys the moment Magnus showed up, which was really the first sign that it meant something.” The smirk tips sideways into something softer again. “And look at them now — so wrapped up in each other they barely notice anyone else. Jace already said this part for me, so I won’t go on about it, but thank you, Magnus, for loving my brother.”
She steps off of the table — not stumbling, despite her heels — as everyone claps, and the smile Magnus gives Alec makes the whole world brighter. 
2. Maryse
Alec loves his mother, he really does, and he’s incredibly grateful that she’s accepted Magnus almost as her own son, but sometimes he wishes they weren’t quite such good friends. 
For instance, right now, when Magnus has tugged his chair closer to Maryse’s to look at the photo album she’s showing him. A photo album of Alec’s childhood. This is a disaster.
Magnus is, admittedly, cooing, but he is also laughing far harder than Alec’s dignity is happy about, especially when Maryse tells a particularly embarrassing story. Like the one about six-year-old Alec wanting to help Izzy learn to use a whip, trying to steal one from an older Shadowhunter, and getting tangled up in it, at which point Maryse managed to take a picture; Alec admits that he looked ridiculous, but Magnus’ commentary is more along the lines of adorable, which is completely unacceptable.  
(Alec had eventually succeeded in obtaining a whip, learning to use it, and then teaching Izzy; he stopped learning with her once she was well on her way to mastery, and she’s better than him by now.)
“You were so cute as a child,” Magnus tells him, grinning. “You’ve already got that serious little frown, which is still adorable now, but it’s even cuter on such a small face.”
“Shut up,” Alec replies, face brick-red. “Can’t we do something else now?”
Maryse laughs, rather evilly. “But we’ve only seen the one album! I’ve still got two more—”
“Absolutely not,” Alec retorts, glaring at her. “If I knew you were just going to tell embarrassing stories about me, I wouldn’t’ve invited you here.”
“Actually, I invited her here,” Magnus interposes, “and I’m really enjoying learning about how adorable you were as a child.”
Alec continues his staring contest with Maryse. “I’ll — figure out something embarrassing to tell Luke.”
She raises an eyebrow. “Good luck with that.”
“I’ll stop inviting you over to the Institute.” It’s an empty threat, and she knows it. 
“That’s what I have Izzy and Jace for.”
A thought strikes. “I’ll make that stew for you again.” 
Horror spreads on Maryse’s face, and she caves. “…What if I told you a story about Magnus instead?”
Magnus’ brows pinch. “You don’t know any stories about me — or at least, none that Alec doesn’t know already.”
“Is that so?” She raises an eyebrow. “Well, I remember a certain day, twenty or so years ago, back when I was in the Circle—”
Realisation dawns on Magnus’ face, but too late. 
“The circumstances weren’t — ideal” — the shadows on her face bear testimony to the likely corruptness of whatever she was doing — “but I do recall claiming that I wanted to create a better world for myself and my son. Care to say what you replied, Magnus?”
Magnus huffs nonchalantly, but Alec can tell from his expression that he knows exactly what he said and is dreading Maryse’s reveal of it. “Something embarrassing, I’m sure.”
“It was, if I recall correctly, ‘I have no interest in the world you want. Or in your doubtless repellent brat, I might add.’” She’s clearly barely holding back laughter. “Little did you — or I — know that in twenty years, you’d be married to that same ‘doubtless repellent brat’.”
A groan from Magnus, but Alec’s too busy laughing. 
After all, fair’s fair. 
3. Simon
“Sherman!” Magnus greets, smiling. “Lovely to see you, my dear.”
“Not lovely enough to remember my name, though?” Simon returns, sighing. 
“Of course I know your name, Samuel,” Magnus shoots back with a grin. “Come in, everyone else’s here already—”
Alec waves as Simon comes in, then wraps an arm around Magnus’ shoulders as his husband settles down beside him. Magnus relaxes into the touch. Jace, Clary, and Izzy are scattered around the room on Magnus’ various comfortable chairs; Simon takes a spot beside Clary and gratefully accepts the glass of blood Magnus snaps into his hand. 
As the spurt of greetings dies down, Jace returns to the topic they’d been discussing before Simon came in: teasing Alec for being, quote, “a simp for Magnus”. Alec listens with something caught between embarrassment and pride, while Magnus is outright chuckling. 
“See, nobody else is like that about their significant other,” Jace declares, hands waving in the air. 
“I seem to recall using Raziel’s Wish to bring you back from the dead,” Clary points out. 
“Yeah, but Alec said he’d do the same for Magnus.”
“I agree with Jace,” Simon puts in, to the blond’s surprise. “Alec’s hardcore. Remember when he wanted to become a vampire so he could go to Edom to be with Magnus?”
Alec stops paying attention, because Magnus has abruptly stiffened at his side, and he realises that Magnus didn’t know about that whole thing. It hadn’t seemed relevant, since Magnus was safe with no such measures necessary; Alec might’ve told Magnus about it if it came up, but he’d honestly forgotten about the whole thing. 
Clearly, it isn’t quite as irrelevant to Magnus, who’s staring at Alec in shock and disbelief — an expression that Alec has seen before whenever Magnus can’t believe that Alec is willing to do something for him. An expression which Alec is more familiar with than he’d like. Often, his heart aches for Magnus, who’s been burned so many times by so many people that basic common decency seems like something out of the ordinary. 
“You were going to do what?” Magnus hisses, voice low and almost terrified. Apparently, disbelief has given way to anger. 
“Turn myself into a vampire so I could go to Edom with you,” Alec replies, implacable. The others sitting around the room seem to fade away, eclipsed by the man in front of him. “Nephilim can’t enter Edom — or couldn’t, without Clary’s Alliance rune — and I needed to get to Edom, which meant not being Nephilim anymore.”
“You’d lose your runes,” Magnus says, and Alec resists the impulse to say Well, duh. 
Instead, he meets Magnus’ eyes with all the love he holds inside of him, the love that sometimes feels so big and explosive that he wonders if he’ll implode under the weight of it. He never does; this love only makes him stronger. “You’re more important than my runes, Magnus.”
Magnus makes a sharp, cut-off sound, like he isn’t sure if he wants to strangle Alec or kiss him. “More than your parabatai rune? Alec, you didn’t think it through—”
“I thought it through,” Alec retorts. “Losing my parabatai bond would be bad, but I wouldn’t be losing Jace — he’s just as much my brother with the rune or without. Even if I was losing Jace, though—” and Alec hesitates for a moment, not from uncertainty but because he needs Magnus to know how true this is, how much he means it “—even then, I’d do it, Magnus, because you are worth everything.” He knows Magnus, knows that all his life he’s been taught that he is worth less than others, that he’s somehow less important because he can smile and laugh even under the weight of centuries. You are not inconsequential, he wants to say, wants to smooth away those years of pain. He’ll get there eventually. 
For a moment of frozen stillness, Magnus stares at him with that same disbelief rising in his no-longer-glamoured eyes, and then he falls forward to kiss Alec with all he has. Alec holds him close, almost desperately, and pours all that he feels into the kiss. 
Behind them, Clary is reluctantly admitting that what Alec and Magnus have is a bit more, but Alec ignores them in favour of the man in his arms. 
4. Raphael
Dinners with Magnus’ side of the family ought to be more embarrassing for Magnus than they were for Alec — and they usually are, thanks to Cat’s propensity for giving Alec all the best tales of Magnus’ past adventures — but tonight is clearly an exception. 
It starts off well enough: Cat tells yet another story about Magnus in Peru, leaving Alec to wonder exactly how many minor catastrophes Magnus has caused and why it took Peru so long to ban him; Magnus groans half-heartedly and protests, though he knows from experience that it’s hopeless. After Cat leaves for her next shift at the hospital, however, Raphael apparently takes pity on Magnus and decides to do a Maryse: tell stories about Alec. 
The problem is that Raphael is one of the very, very few who know a particularly embarrassing secret. “Have I told you about Alec’s first crush?”
Magnus raises an eyebrow. “I think we all know Alec used to like Jace, my dear boy.”
“That wasn’t Alec’s first crush, though.” Raphael is obviously suppressing an evil grin, and Alec puts his head in his hands. 
Wrinkling his brow, Magnus glances first at Raphael, then at Alec, then back again. “Who was it, then?”
“I’ll let Lightwood tell you.” Raphael leans back in his seat, apparently satisfied that he’s caused Alec’s reputation sufficient damage. He doesn’t even need to keep pressing the issue; Magnus is obviously intrigued, and he won’t let Alec avoid this particular confession. Shit. 
Magnus turns to Alec expectantly. 
Alec huffs and crosses his arms. 
Magnus’ eyes widen pleadingly. 
Alec sighs. He’s never been able to resist those eyes. Magnus beams, and he can’t really regret anything that brings such a bright smile to his husband’s face. 
“Keep in mind that I was eleven at the time,” Alec starts, “and I didn’t have much exposure to guys.” He has no doubt Magnus will be laughing by the end of this, but he’d like to justify himself a bit in advance. 
“Go on,” Magnus says, still grinning. 
Alec sighs again, deeply, but goes on. “I’d caught wind of a vampire and a Silent Brother who’d come to talk to Maryse and Robert. Naturally, I told Izzy and hurried over to eavesdrop, mostly because a Silent Brother seemed like an important guest. The Brother — Jem Carstairs, actually — was telling them something interesting about a yin fen shipment, but I was distracted by the vampire.” Alec gestures to Raphael and waits for the realisation to sink in. 
Magnus’ eyes widen, and he promptly bursts into laughter. “Wait — you’re telling me — Raphael?” he manages between gasps. 
“Raphael,” Alec confirms, lips twitching to echo the smile splitting Magnus’ face. He’s laughing free and light and happy, and Alec can’t really mind the minor embarrassment. 
Eventually, Magnus calms down enough to talk properly. “Alexander, I cannot believe you would do this,” he says, putting on an overdramatic look of utter betrayal. “This entire time, you’ve been after my adoptive son.” 
The vampire squints at the moniker. Alec raises an eyebrow, deadpan. “Yes. I actually married you to get closer to Raphael. That makes complete sense and is definitely something I would do.” 
Magnus loses the battle against another round of delighted laughter, and Alec relaxes back in his chair with a smile. 
5. Lydia
This week has apparently been designated the Embarrass Alec Lightwood Week, because the day after the Raphael revelations (which Magnus probably won’t stop teasing Alec about for years), Lydia shows up for their semi-regular dinners together with yet another story in tow. 
Perhaps it was odd that one of Alec’s best friends in Alicante is his ex-fiancé, but there’s a reason he proposed to her in the first place: she’s a lot like him, in personality and in goals, and he knew she’d make a good co-Head. They probably would’ve ended up hating each other, trapped in a loveless marriage, but as friends, they simply work. 
To Alec, it’s more surprising how well Lydia gets along with Magnus — their personalities couldn’t be more different — but then again, the same could be said of Alec and Magnus. Initially, the relationship between Alec’s husband and his ex-fiancée was mostly swapping stories of Henry Branwell, but it’s shifting to encompass things that make Alec blush. 
“Izzy’s presentation at the wedding was hilarious,” Lydia is saying, grinning. 
“It was!” Magnus beams back. “I knew he was a disaster gay, but I didn’t know he was a disaster gay.” 
“I’d already seen the disaster gay brain in action, though,” Lydia says, and Alec feels a sudden surge of worry as to what secrets she’ll spill. Magnus leans forward, interested. “It was before we met, back when Alec was determinedly closeted — or thought he was, at least.” (Alec huffs.) “Anyway, I suggested we talk to you for some reason or other. Alec said — and I quote — ‘Magnus is, um… quite magical.’” 
Alec buries his face in his hands. 
+1. Magnus
“I have a confession,” Magnus says, rather abruptly, and Alec looks up in surprise. 
They’re in the loft, just relaxing in each other’s company, but something in Magnus’ voice suggests that this is a more serious topic than their previous discussion, a debate over where to have dinner. Magnus’ expression confirms the hypothesis: he’s frowning slightly, a hint of hesitance in his eyes. He’s still sitting half on Alec’s lap, half on the couch, with one arm wrapped around Alec, but there’s nevertheless something uncertain in his posture. 
“Go on,” Alec tells him, when he pauses before continuing. He doesn’t want to push, but Magnus has clearly been working himself up to this for a while, only to hesitate at the last moment; he needs a bit of encouragement to get past it. 
“I… may have lied to you on our first date,” Magnus says, after another moment, eyes darting away from Alec’s. 
“About what?” Alec prompts again. 
“I haven’t — you asked me how many people I’d been with.” Magnus is reluctant, but determined; Alec wonders how long he’s been thinking about this. “I didn’t — well, even if I had had sex with seventeen thousand people, I doubt I’d remember the exact number. As it is, I’ve been with… fewer.”
Alec considers that. He’s never really thought about that conversation, not since he decided it didn’t matter how many people Magnus had been with; as he thinks about it now, though, it does seem unlikely that Magnus knows the exact number of people he’s had sex with, and seventeen thousand is a lot. But that can hardly be the confession Magnus seems so anxious about. 
Magnus swallows, then keeps talking. “I don’t know how well you remember that conversation, but when you asked me how many, I said ‘seventeen’.”
“And then you hesitated, and I assumed you meant seventeen thousand,” Alec agrees. 
“I’ve only been with seventeen people, total,” Magnus says softly. “I know I — I build up this persona of somebody who has sex a lot, and obviously there’s nothing wrong with that, but for me, it’s — it’s just seventeen.”
Alec blinks at him, then quickly wraps an arm around Magnus’ shoulders to pull him closer because there’s an awful terrified expression on Magnus’ face, as though he fears Alec’s going to — to leave him, or something ridiculous like that. “I said it then, and I’ll say it again now,” Alec murmurs into his hair. “I don’t care how many people you’ve been with — or haven’t been with, as the case may be.” 
Magnus relaxes into Alec’s hold, tracing his fingers over his wrist. “I know you don’t care. Logically, at least,” he amends at Alec’s raised eyebrow, because Magnus had certainly seemed worried about Alec’s reaction. “It’s just that… well, because of the way I dress and my sexuality — and, at certain times in the past, because of my skin colour — people tend to assume that I have sex more than I do, even when they don’t deem me some sort of sexual predator. And if I told someone I was with that I don’t have sex that much, they’d be disappointed, or confused, or they’d leave. So I’d lie about it, like I lied to you. I pretended I had sex as often as they all assumed I had. Took control of the narrative, in some sense. Learned to flirt. And the few times I’ve confessed the truth, it… hasn’t gone well.” 
“Camille?” Alec asks, recognising the expression on Magnus’ face. 
“Among others,” Magnus confirms. “She — she said it was unnatural, for an immortal to be such a prude. Said I needed to enjoy life more. Said the only reason she cheated on me was because I was lacking, and if I didn’t understand why she’d cheat, it was because I was somehow wrong.” 
Alec holds him even closer in the momentary silence that follows, hoping that he can convey with his embrace that Camille was the one in the wrong, always, that there was never anything wrong with Magnus. Judging by the soft shudder Magnus makes in Alec’s arms, he got the message across. 
“I am… different, though,” Magnus says quietly, half-muffled in Alec’s shirt. “I mean, obviously there are people — even immortals — who don’t go around having sex (and far more who don’t cheat on their partners), but it’s not like that for me. It’s like — it’s that I don’t want to have sex with a random stranger. I want to get to know them first. It’s only when I already like their personality that I actually feel attracted to them.”
“I’m not going to judge you for that,” Alec says. “I love you. You love me. Everything else is — academic.”
Magnus’ smile is imprinted on Alec’s shoulder. “I love you.”
“I know,” Alec points out, half joking, then becomes serious again. “But have you considered — I mean, I don’t know a lot about it, but I was reading a bunch of mundane articles on sexuality and such, and do you think you could be some flavour of asexual?”
When Magnus raises his head, his mouth is slightly open, and he’s blinking quickly. “I… hadn’t thought of that.” He’s silent for another moment, considering. “I’m not fully ace, since I definitely feel attracted to some people” — he leers at Alec — “but I might be… greysexual. Demisexual, maybe.” He glances down at his fingernails, thoughtful, and the nail polish shimmers as it shifts to the colours of the demisexual flag. 
“And that’s for you to decide,” Alec tells him, gently. “Whichever one you are, I love you.”
“I know,” Magnus says, a bright flash of a grin illuminating his face, and Alec thinks that this, here, is all he’ll ever need. 
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sharpmarble76 · 1 year
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Tagged by @justfangirlstuffs to fill out this DCA questionaire
Warning: almost every answer is a ramble
How did you get here?
As I've mentioned before, (I'm like a broken record and just repeat myself I'm sorry) I was dragged in by force through exposure. When I like an author, I look at the things they bookmark because a lot of the time I end up liking the same things they do. There were several utmv authors with sun and moon fics and I didn't know who they were but I got curious and clicked. I found a cursed one that I could tell was leading to an almost abusive relationship with y/n and got scared away but eventually got curious enough to look back into them.
2. Why these characters in particular?
Family is something really important to me so that often reflects on my favorite characters. I've always loved cheerful and yellow/blonde characters which is oddly specific but, eh. Recently, I discovered my favorite trope is sun and moon dynamic twins (Dream and Nightmare, Sun and Moon)
3. How long have you been here?
I think it was sometime in August. I'm pretty new to this fandom but I know almost everything there is to know now.
4. Have you actually played FNAF sb?
I have not. I have never played video games other than mario kart or things like snake. I did look into it and Undertale and I discovered you have to pay $10-15 for Undertale but couldn't find any information about FNAF sb and figured it would be something similar and I am not willing to pay money to play.
5. If you make content, what is your favorite piece you've contributed?
Fic wise I really love my very first utmv fic. I think it's pretty well thought out and I can't think of any plot holes. I haven't made an FNAF fic yet but I'm planning on doing so eventually. I love all of my art (except for my weird frog ones please ignore most of those) pretty equally but my Sun one makes me really happy. I also like my most recent Dream one because I discovered an easier way to do digital art and will be able to do thinner line art.
6. What's your favorite sort of art or fic? What genre/flavor/style?
I love really angsty fics but only for my main comfort character (I project onto him) Any other time, I love stories that have an adventure to it. Plot twists and unique au's are wonderful. I will not read smutty fics and suggestive stuff is avoided as much as possible. If I can find platonic fics, than that's ideal but I will read romance as long as its SFW.
7. What's your favorite au?
I've really loved the cryptid au. There is a lot of cool fics and art for it and it's really fun. I also love after fire fics, those are really angsty.
8. Do you have any OCs, or have OCs that you are particularly fond of?
I have 1 oc that I will never do anything with. Her name is either Cam or Hali, I never decided. She has a circle face (probably a mask) with one half as a smiley face and the other a frowny face.
9. What do you think of the dca's Canon appearance? Scary? Cute? Something else?
I don't think they're that bad honestly. I would be scared of them as a kid but I think they're cute. They have a hint of ugly but it's a cute ugly.
10. What keeps you in this fandom despite the small amount of Canon content the DCA had?
I love seeing them as brothers and the interaction between them. That is why i read their fics in the first place, purely for that brotherly love. The main thing keeping me here are the people on tumblr. I have been so welcomed and made a surprising amount of friends on here. I love having a group of mutuals on here that talk about stupid things like what temperature water should be consumed at and supporting art and fics and just having fun loving the same characters.
11. Be honest: if you had to pick only one, sun or moon?
Honestly, I would probably pick Sun. I am really drawn to cheerful characters though Moon is absolutely wonderful. (Also don't want death rn so...)
12. Thoughts on eclipse?
He's a very mysterious guy. It really depends on interpretation, even more than Sun and Moon. I personally think he might be connected to afton in some way because of the amount of importance arcade games have in sb with princess quest and all. I think he is either the key to releasing moon from the virus or the thing keeping him trapped.
13. Thoughts on pre-glitch sun?
I think he'd be a lot more chill. Still very cheerful and probably very talkative. Sun seemed really scared and hysterical and almost manic in game. I think he would still be eccentric just a lot more carefree and content. He would probably be bashful and oblivious as well.
14. Thoughts on pre-glitch moon?
I think he'd be very gentle and sweet with kids and then be his gremlin self with Sun, the glamrocks, and the employees. I like to think he'd be very protective of Sun and really clever. I think he would act really smug to be funny and would be very sassy.
15. Do you interpret sun and moon as two sides of the same person, or truly two separate beings in one body? Does it matter?
It's very important to me that they are two separate people. I refuse to read anything longer than a one shot where they aren't brothers or at least best friends. It just makes me sad and not in the delicious satisfying way that angst does but an uncomfortable/unsettled naggy way. It's fine with one shots but if they aren't close by the end, it will not take up my time or emotions.
16. What's something in the fandom you like to see more of?
Just brotherly moments between Sun and Moon (*cough* broken record *cough*)
17. What's something in the fandom you'd like to see less of?
Shipping them together and smutty/suggestive things. It's just not my jam
18. Anything you're looking forward to?
Not that I can think of
19. Do you think you'd actually get along with the DCA if you met them irl?
I think I would think they were really cool but would probably be too shy to talk to them unless they initiated it first.
20. Free space! Talk about whatever is on your mind.
I've been thinking a lot about how much I've changed in the past few years. For example, I thought contacts were the creepiest thing and now I have and love them. Fandom wise, my journey with fnaf. My first time hearing about it I was around 10-11. I was at a sleepover with my cousins and my cousin told me about it when they threw out a toy or something from their little brother. It scared me so much I had panic attack and was crying and shaking. I didn't even know that the animatronics were possessed by murdered children. Now here I am reading this stuff with a straight face or even a slightly evil laugh.
Anyone who sees this can do it. I'm too lazy to go through and see who's already been tagged
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merakiui · 3 years
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Diluc, Kaeya, Xiao, and Childe Finding out That You’re Being Abused HCs
cw: mentions/descriptions of (physical and emotional) abuse, injuries, depressive mood/thoughts, implied violence **please proceed with caution and do not read if this is triggering! note - submissions are confusing for me, so I wrote it in this format. I hope that was okay! 
@tuestika said: Hi! Sorry that I send my request through submission, tumblr has sometimes eaten my asks either wholly or have omnomned whole ask xD Usually my requests sent through submissions arrive intact so…. I saw that you had done Scaramouche reacting finding out their s/o is being abused headcanons, may I request headcanons for Kaeya, Diluc, Xiao and Childe finding out their their s/o is being abused? Keep up good job! <3
🔥 Diluc 🔥
Diluc might not be the most vocal person in the world, but he’s definitely observant. He’s gotten rather skilled at picking apart your social cues because he’s spent a lot of time with you. 
So when you barge into his tavern one evening, looking absolutely disheveled and asking for one of the Knights, he’s feeling two emotions: confusion and irritation. 
For one, you shouldn’t even entrust your issue to those inadequate Knights. Nevertheless, you are his friend and he isn’t going to kick you out just because you mentioned them. 
He waves you over to the bar and is thoroughly shocked when you beg him to let you hide behind it. Then he notices your split lip and the fresh injuries on your face and forearms, and he wastes no time in getting to the point.
“Why were you out so late fighting hilichurls? I hope you haven’t led any here. We don’t need that sort of trouble right now.”
“Sorry. No, that’s not it. I just—you’re the only one...” You’re struggling to piece a coherent statement together, too busy looking over your shoulder to keep track of your thoughts. “I didn’t know where I could go. I mean, I thought of you and—“
“Please slow down. Start at the beginning.”
More concerned over your safety than professionalism, Diluc allows you to slip behind the bar counter, where you cower on the ground to avoid being seen. 
You gesture for him to come down to your height and he sighs, silently complying when he finds there aren’t any new customers to serve. Bending down to your level, he holds onto the countertop to keep his balance and then he locks eyes with you. 
“What exactly happened?”
You inhale a shuddering breath, wrapping your sore arms around yourself for comfort. Tears are gathering in your eyes as you recall the event. Your abuser had found you after you’d left to get some fresh air, they’d cornered you in a secluded alley, and—you can’t finish the rest of the story.
Diluc doesn’t expect you to continue. He nods as he lets the information sink in, already harboring a deep resentment for this despicable individual. 
“Wait here. I’ll close the tavern early. In the meantime, we should see to your injuries and then we’ll look for that person.”
“I really think we should tell the Knights...” you mumble, knowing he’ll disapprove. “They’re more suited to these types of cases.”
“The Knights are incompetent. The investigation will take days, if not weeks. What happens if your abuser knows they’ll be coming for them? They’ll try to escape and then there’ll be no telling where they’ve gone.”
“I know, but it wouldn’t hurt to—“
“I’ll take care of it.”
You try to object because it’s dangerous and you don’t want him to get injured on your behalf. But he’s insistent in his decision, claiming that if the Knights can’t help you no one can. And you really wouldn’t feel safe if your abuser was still roaming free, so you have no other choice but to allow him to carry out the investigation himself.
And Diluc can be quite clever at times. It won’t be hard to traverse the interior of Mondstadt at night, where his identity melts away into that of the sneaky Darknight Hero. 
He’s going to protect you no matter what. Your abuser won’t receive an ounce of sympathy from Diluc. All he feels is cold hatred when he catches them. Someone as precious as you does not deserve to be put through such torment, and he’ll see to it that your abuser pays a hefty price to make up for all of the damage they’ve caused.
🧊 Kaeya 🧊
Kaeya can’t understand why you’ve started isolating yourself from everyone. In the past, you were always such great friends with the Knights, always catching up to talk to one of them.
He’d spent a lot of time with you and has since gotten to know you through lighthearted conversations and gossip from the people of Mondstadt. 
For someone so appreciated and well-known, he can’t wrap his head around why you might want to suddenly disappear, hiding yourself away as if you didn’t exist. 
And then he happens to catch you in town one day while you’re out running some errands. It’s so like him to pop in with a few flirty lines, but the words stick in his throat when he notices the bandages stuck to your arms and legs. 
“That can’t be good,” he says as he approaches you, leaning ever so gracefully against a wooden support beam. “Why don’t we find Barbara? I’m sure she’ll have you patched up in no time, my dear friend.”
You don’t think you’re worth it so you shake your head, nervously hoping he’ll take the hint and go away. 
“I hope you’re not accepting those dangerous commissions again,” he adds, half teasing and half serious. You can’t tell whether he’s trying to sound chiding or not. 
“Please just...leave me be. I’m a little busy right now.” You try to leave the stall you’re at, walking stiffly to avoid limping in front of him. “I’m not feeling well, so if you’ll excuse me—“
Kaeya pushes off from the beam, standing in front of you with a posture that appears immovable. “By order of the Calvary Captain,” he’s saying, a playful glint in his eyes, “you aren’t allowed to move from that spot until you tell me what’s bothering you and why you’re covered head to toe in bandages.”
You can easily object to such an order, but you figure it’s better to answer instead of arguing over your physical condition. So you explain a modified version of the story, telling him that you simply got into a disagreement and it ended in bruises on both sides. 
Kaeya hears the tremble in your voice when you say it; you’re lying. His expression softens at once and he steps away, indicating that you’re free to leave. But you don’t; you’re looking at him with such a helpless, pleading look. It breaks his heart.
You break before him, lips quivering as you beg for his help. You’re so scared and alone, and you’re not sure how long you can suffer through this before it seriously hurts you. 
“This is the first time I’ve gotten out in weeks.” So that explains your sudden isolation. “Please... I don’t want to go back home anymore. I’ll do anything. Just don’t let them hurt me again.”
Kaeya’s absolutely stunned to hear the silent revelation in your words. You’re awkwardly reaching to undo one of the bandage wrappings to prove your point, but he stops you short. That’s all the proof he needs.
You’ll be brought back to the Knights of Favonius’ Headquarters to be tended to while he gathers a team to search for your abuser. Since you gave him a solid description, it shouldn’t be too hard to find them. 
And once they’re apprehended, Kaeya will subject them to a grueling interrogation. There will be no gentle punishment; it’s going to be as unforgiving as the abuse you had to suffer through. 
☁️ Xiao ☁️
You’ve never really been keen on physical touch and Xiao understands that completely. He usually avoids any sort of interaction to begin with, unless it’s absolutely necessary, so it’s not a surprise whenever you shy away from large crowds.
He has grown rather fond of you, which has lead to the two of you meeting at Wangshu Inn for some Almond Tofu and relaxed chit-chat.
During one of your many conversations, you bring up a few alarming statements. They’re just personal points you’d like to change, such as your weak fighting spirit or the way your joints brokenly click when you stretch. 
Xiao wonders why you’d want to change yourself. You’re not usually this doubtful of yourself. In the past, you would always play the role of his smiling friend, putting on a positive face even when he was in a disagreeable mood. 
Xiao is examining your movements as you awkwardly explain yourself and when your arms move he catches the sight of a rope burn etched into your wrist. 
“What happened?” He gestures to your sleeve, to which you react in a nervous manner, shyly pulling your sleeve down to hide it. Xiao frowns a bit. “Did you get into an accident?”
“No, of course not! I’m fine. It’s just a result of my clumsiness.”
It really doesn’t look like that to Xiao and when he truly looks at you again he finds that you appear abnormally tired and exhausted. He isn’t going to sugarcoat anything and he could be making a giant assumption, but he still asks.
“Is someone hurting you?”
Your eyes widen for a split second and Xiao catches that movement like a cat drawn to a laser pointer. He won’t force you to explain unless you feel comfortable doing so. The last thing he wants is upsetting you or pressuring you into something you don’t want to talk about.
Eventually, though, the story will come to light and he’ll hear all about the horrors you’ve gone through. That rope burn was just one of many punishments you’ve had to endure, and Xiao’s just about ready to snap. How dare someone lay their filthy hands upon you in such a violent way?
Xiao will calmly tell you to stay at Wangshu Inn or anywhere else in Liyue where you’ll be safe. He’ll watch over you while you take time to recuperate and heal. He’s going to make sure you’ll never have to go through something like that ever again.
Having Xiao by your side makes the healing process all the more comforting.
And when you fall asleep in a soft, warm bed, Xiao slips out into the night to search for your abuser. It won’t be a pretty sight once he gets his hands on the human trash who dared to hurt you.
💧 Childe 💧
He’s very perceptive when it comes to your health and overall well-being. After all, he’s got brothers and sisters to care for; perception is absolutely necessary in order to keep them happy and healthy.
So it doesn’t take long for him to realize your behavior is uncharacteristic. You’re jumpier than usual, always apologizing for the littlest of things, and you’ll look over your shoulder whenever you sense something.
It’s almost as if you expect someone to suddenly come at you, which isn’t all that odd. Childe has been known to keep you on your toes when he’s looking for a fight.
But on one particular day he manages to give you a spook when he comes up beside you, grinning and showing up in your peripheral so suddenly that it nearly gives you a heart attack. 
You’re so frightened as you back away, practically folding in on yourself in an effort to protect yourself from an imaginary blow. Childe pauses, that silly grin fading when he realizes you’re shaking.
“Hey, it wasn’t that scary. Come on, comrade!” He’s approaching you warily, not entirely sure why you’re acting the way you are. He’s always been spontaneous; you should be used to this by now.
But you refuse to let him come any closer, having to distance yourself so that you can ease your racing heart and hyperventilating lungs. Once you’ve calmed down, embarrassment floods through you at the fact that Childe just witnessed all of that. 
Childe will ask if you’re okay with him stepping closer and if you nod he’ll be on you like a hawk, pulling up your sleeves before you can stop him. 
For once, you catch an expression you normally don’t find on Childe: surprise. He’s genuinely shocked at what he sees: dark bruises and shallow lacerations from something sharp. 
Either you got these in your many sparring matches or there’s another factor at play here, and Childe is almost certain it’s the latter.  
His voice is gentle as he asks you to explain what’s going on and once you do he’s already set on finding the one who did this. He seems to forget all about his Fatui work, wanting to capture your abuser and give them a piece of his mind—and subject them to more than a few pieces of his strength, too. 
He’ll have you protected in no time, offering to take you to the best healer. You’ll be treated wonderfully and he’ll even lay off on your sparring matches for a while. 
In the meantime, once he gets his hands on your abuser, everything becomes fair game. After all, someone has to handle the brunt of his anger and pent-up bloodlust from the lack of a fight. And your abuser is the perfect match to pummel into the ground. Childe shows absolutely no mercy for them. 
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nox-artemis · 3 years
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Kentaro Miura
It took me awhile to get my thoughts in order. Honestly, as well intentioned as they are, a constant stream of fan tributes on Twitter and Tumblr more-or-less telling me how to process “The End” of Berserk with Miura’s death didn’t do a lot to console me, so I had to take some huge steps away from social media and only conversed my feelings with my other close Berserk fan-friends.
It was very surreal waking up yesterday morning to a friend messaging me simply saying, “did you hear the news?” When shit like that happens, I go onto my Google stories app and scroll through. I didn’t find anything really worth getting too upset over (maybe a bit sad that Queen Elizabeth II’s doggo died?) so it hit me to check my Twitter feed instead.
And that’s when I saw it.
We all know death is inevitable, and life is pretty much spent prolonging the point to that inevitability as well as preparing ourselves for when it happens to us or someone close to us. Being part of the Berserk fandom was the only time we all collectively had this on our mind not only for someone else but for someone we never met or really knew that much about. We only knew Miura through his magnum opus – and that was good enough for us. And no matter how much we discussed the worst-case scenario – pondering how the story would continue and how WE would continue – it still wasn’t enough to prepare us for this amount of shock. Hearing Miura had died and that the Berserk we know and love under his direct supervision is over truly felt like losing a long-lost friend.
It wasn’t just that the Berserk we know of is “over”, but that Miura didn’t have to die. He was only 54: not a young age, but not an old age either, especially by today’s standards. He could have seen the end to his magnum opus the way he envisioned it, yet he died of something so avoidable but is only brought about by a great deal of stress (from what I’ve read). It was always a morbid open rumor that so many of Miura’s infamous hiatuses were actually mental and/or physical health breaks, so the older or more conscious of us fans, while always eager and anxious for a new chapter, learned to not take them so personally. Miura was a spellbinding artist and storyteller, but he was also a human with his own life and conflicts that he was entitled to address at his own pace. This isn’t meant to blame anyone (at the very least, maybe to address some societal/industry issues), but it’s troubling enough to remind everyone – as the story of Berserk has demonstrated – that you need to take care of yourself physically and mentally, and while everyone struggles in life, you don’t have to struggle alone.
I always despised this weird cult of youth that insinuates that life isn’t worth pursuing once you hit your mid-thirties, and how some people so engulfed in their youth insist that they wouldn’t mind dying by the age of 50 or 60. It’s a shame when people live by that because there’s so much to live for beyond your youth – as I’ve learned, I only started buckling down when I transitioned into my thirties. Miura could have had a longer life ahead of him, going beyond Berserk and into his other endeavors, professional and personal, but that will unfortunately never happen now.
Everyone knows I have a lot of thoughts and opinions on Berserk. Most of you found out about me through my blogging several years ago, and I’m pretty proud that I was never the sort of fan that groveled at Miura’s feet and treated Berserk as some untouchable holy book: there were things I disliked about Berserk and things that disappointed me about Miura’s writing, but there were SO MANY MORE THINGS that I loved about Berserk and was proud of Miura for, and I wished him to continue his advancement in narrative growth. He did so and we watched it happened.
And, by meeting so many friends and acquaintances through the fandom, we saw a lot in ourselves change too. It’s surreal how we always joked that it would be one of us fans who would die before Berserk ended or the worst-case scenario of Miura dying; maybe some of us secretly preferred for that happen. But when we weren’t waiting around for another chapter… look at how much we’ve done with our lives! We graduated high school, undergrad, grad school, started and advanced our careers, traveled the world, got together, popped out a kid or two!... And while we experienced a lot of downfalls and tragedies that coincide, can you believe how much we have accomplished together?
We were all personally inspired, motivated, persuaded by Berserk in different ways: a lot of us were inspired for the better and admittedly, some for the not-as-good (if spending countless hours on Tumblr has taught me, there were definitely some toxic fan takeaways that had to be confronted). I’m not going to go to the point of saying that I now live my life by Berserk’s philosophy to a T or live as a reflection of certain characters (because I’m pretty sure that Miura was trying to tell us to NOT live your life like some particular characters) but it certainly helped to brings some aspects of life and existence into perspective, through the lenses of so many characters. Berserk also inspired me to write more, an already favorite pastime of mine, and how I should go about writing and planning a story, taking cues from Berserk on how to and how NOT to write and approach things in my own way, which I think is for the best in the long run. I can only dream that I’ll be published someday – which doesn’t have to be a pipe dream because it’s still much more possible than impossible. And so many other have done the same, creating our own stories and works.
And OF COURSE Berserk inspired me to be a little bit badass from time to time in moments of frivolity and seriousness – but it reminds us all that being badass and being a kinder person who tries to become the best version of themselves are not mutually exclusive. We definitely need more of that in today’s world.
We all made our own little bonfires of dreams happen, and because of Berserk existing, there will be a lot more beginnings than endings, and I don’t see a lot of bonfires being extinguished anytime soon. Miura poured his heart and soul into Berserk and its characters, and while he has passed on, his characters and lessons will live on through us and everything we create and how we live our lives (hopefully for the better).
I was happy to share all of my thoughts with you all – and I’ll continue to do so, since the mythos of Berserk has been a major backdrop of my creative mind for over fifteen years now and there is still so much to dissect and speculate. Personally, I don’t see Berserk ending just yet, if only because I’d be surprised that Miura or his publisher didn’t have some Operation London Bridge type plan in place in the event that this happened (Berserk is, after all, a major title that most likely brings Young Animal a lot of revenue). Again, I never treated Miura or Berserk as divine untouchables, so if there are plans in place to continue Berserk without Miura (BUT with his permission) or just on how to wrap up the story to give it a fulfilling conclusion, I personally would be okay with it (as a friend of mine put it, it’d be more of a tribute than an imitation). Going beyond our lifetimes, works will continue to be interpreted and reinterpreted as they have since time immemorial; perhaps Berserk will reach that point someday.
Honestly, and many have thought so too, Berserk was also meant to be cosmic level in both scale and concept. The plot is so grand and Byzantine that, even under Miura’s direct supervision, I always had a hard time envisioning how a story of this scale would conclude. As much as we love to hate him, a final showdown between Guts and Griffith seems too simple, too “good vs. evil”-esque for Berserk. Maybe having a low-key, vague but optimistic and bittersweet wrap up is what is best for Guts, Casca, and their new-found family. But that’s just another one of my fan speculations.
Regardless or what is to become of Berserk now, I think it’s safe to give adulations. We all came across Berserk at different times in our lives and stuck with the story for different reasons. For some of us, it was just another series that our friend from the campus anime club recommended to us; for others, we were drawn in from a morbid curiosity of its dark notoriety in anime circles. A few of us read for the gratuitous violence and the clout (because we all know you’re so deep and hardcore [/sar]), but a lot more of us read for the journey and the characters that we became a part of. The heaviness of Berserk made us confront a lot of trauma and even relive our own. For some of us, understandably, it was not a good idea to dive deeper (and maybe somethings could have been handled better); for the rest of us, it helped us cope, if not entirely through the story itself, than through the support network we made for ourselves in this fandom and its many realms (some realms, I argue, are more caring and nurturing than others).
From time to time, I always wonder if I would ever “grow out” of Berserk. There were indeed several times I took a step away from fandom and have tried to reduce my exposure to the story - but I always came back in some way, because the essence of Berserk has never left me and never will. Humorously I envisioned myself actually forgetting about Berserk for several decades, decades in which I work at my career, raise my family, mourn my elders, but continue living my life, only to go on the future internet in my mid-50s to find out… Miura is STILL working on that ending, sitting at his desk in the same pose as that famous monochrome capture of him, only he’s grayed and wrinkled, like the great Miyazaki.
The possibility of that future is over, but there are so many others.
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antiloreolympus · 3 years
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10 Anti LO Asks
1. you know whats also bad about the red eyes? not only do they look awful on persephone's pink color, they're not even a unique feature? like we've seen hades' eyes go red, we've seen eros' eyes go red, and ares' eyes are ALWAYS red, so even this idea its her "unique queenly trait" doesnt even hold up?? because we've seen it on other characters before?like at least the blue glowing eyes looked unique and even gave her a possessed, otherworldly look, something with the red eyes just dont have.
2. The faces in the latest ep (not fastpass).... Ew
3. I saw someone praise lore olympus art, specifically the ones where Apollo is playing his lyre and Daphne is covering her ears while her hair is split in two (yuck! Bad decision looks awful) so we can see Apollo, the one where she transforms into her hibernation state (weird perspective, chin and neck, I think, also what the hell was that supposed to be?) and the last one before cutting to Thanatos (which, I admit looks a little better that the other but I still got distracted Apollo's arm among other things).
Now, Rachel is a professional artist like 15-25 years older than me (I dunno her age) drawing one of the most liked webtoons.
I feel like I'm nitpicking or being too harsh or crazy because I think it is a little terrible and this person thinks it's amazing and I know art is subjective and all but like the difference of opinion is jarring. I am by no means a professional and my art leaves a lot to be desired and I guess I don't have incredibly high standards (or do I? I'm second guessing). Is it really that good?
Because I know that Smythe commits more than a few anatomy atrocities. I wanted to redraw a few panels two years ago and I noticed a few things that Don't Work Like That.
4. ok but that other anon is right. we shouldnt have to go off old tumblr asks or random tweets to understand what's going on and who the characters are. rachel doesnt realize you have to actually write whats going on, not putting the readers on a scavenger hunt trying to figure out what they're even reading.
5. im honestly surprised LO hasnt ruined more mother figures at this point. maybe maia will be next and depicted as neglectful and hermes is only the way he is because hes acting out to be noticed by her, maybe dione will slut shame aphrodite, who knows, the possibilities are endless when its about ruining every mother figure to prop persephone and hera up and to avoid giving the characters actual personalities that isnt dependent on mommy/daddy issues.
6. I hate the clothing choice for Daphne in run for your life. It felt like she was drawn in a sexualized manner when she shouldn’t have been because she was running away from a r*pist. Like she almost had a nip slip, we almost got her ass, it was like Rachel was trying to fit her butt and chest in a lot of the frames like some video game with the token woman character. Like if a different dress was choosen or how she made Daphne tie the dress, I just feel like Rachel can’t draw outside of pinup sexy that well. Like sexy is fine for sexy scenes but running away from a r*pist is not sexy. (I probably sounded really lame, but the way Rachel presents the story in a feminist way but can only draw one way in not even the same style is annoying)
7. Things I think would have been better for the story instead of focusing so much on HXP
-Expanding on Minthe’s and Hades beginning of their relationship (he couldn’t of fallen for her since she didn’t laugh at him and when she yelled at him said it’s not your fault but you have the hat I think that would have added to his character more to see him more than a 40 year old who hits on barely legal)
-Leto’s kidnapping of Demeter. Both we/are close with Hera, and probably know or each other or may have been friends. Like I wanna know how Leto kidnapped her but also how are they interacting since they probably know each other and Demeter probably had Hera’s back when Hera ended their friendship.
-Ares return to Aphrodite. We don’t get to see much of her character but we know this is something she’s wanted, but they way it was handled was so flat, We assume Aphrodite told Ares that his gf slept with his father to save their son but we don’t actual read any words between the couple. And then they’re living together. I wanna see how they actually interact and stay together like their better moments. Like how well did he settle in, did they talk about how long he left for or is he mad like come on that’s something interesting but I feel like RS can’t write outside of HXP
-the deal with Echo. Why do people think Echo could possibly be Hera’s gf if she’s her assistant. Yeah they do dirty work together BUT I didn’t get a wiff or sexual tension or anything. Was it that she was there with the doctor? It just seems like Hera is that CEO trope who has the assistant always by her now.
-a little more of Pysche and Aphrodite friendship. Like Pysche says Aphrodite is lonely (and we can assume a part of that is Ares) but also because she “doesn’t have many friends” so why not a solo scene of just the two of them being actual friends. Like what did Aphrodite say when she brought back a purple nymph that was gonna help them with their work.
-Hermes not talking about Persephone. I feel like that 99% of what his character is and then just a little bit of himbo. 
-Maybe Thantos and Minthe started flirting/hooking up. We’re they friends first or flirts first? Was it after Hades and Minthe got into a fight or something else? What did Thantos like about Minthe and what does she like about him? Why did she stay with Hades with Thantos was there (it’s not like she wanted to be queen of the underworld) How did Thantoas and Thetis meet and become friends? Idk if I was seeing two guys and one of them actually liked my friend I might consider leaving Hades for him. But again hades did have the power to control everything in Minthe’s life (job, home, everything) I do like Daphne and Thantos But I feel like the transition could have been better if we knew more, but again RS can only focus on one thing and that’s HXP.
------FP Spoiler/Mention------
8. FP SPOILERS— I’m done. I’m really done. We called it. We FKN called it. They got married behind the readers back, Demeter didn’t respond to the question as she actively avoided it and time was up, Apollo is somehow involved in the trial- THIS WHOLE THING IS A MESS AND IM TIRED OF HOPING THAT IT GETS BETTER. Four FKN years of this??? I’m done with this Webtoon even though I’m FKN stuck in it. I’m so FKN done.
9. Fast Pass spoiler (kinda) OH MY GOD, I JUST REALIZED THE POMEGRANATE PIN IS JUST PASTED ON EVERY FRAME, NOT EVEN RE DRAWN FOR PERSPECTIVE, NO, JUST COPIED AND PASTED, REGARDLESS THE OUTFIT ANGLE AND LIGHTING, IT'S HILARIOUS!!!I mean, I knew the art was decaying, but this just made me laugh out loud of how bad it looked.
10. persephone’s pomegranate pin just looks like a giant fly that landed on her and won’t leave LMAO
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whatifxwereyou · 3 years
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The Oncoming Storm Part 18: Nemuri Hime
Liu Kang x Reader and Kung Lao x Reader (gonna do both, two paths!)
Kung Lao gets serious. But forgets to tell you all the important things. Boy, he's good at talking. Lol. Hope you guys are still loving the Lao time! Liu will be back soonish. Planned out his whole part last night and then the future. Question! Are you guys READY for the choice or do you want it drawn out more? Also, for the future of this tumblr, is anyone interested in oc x reader stuff? I have so many ideas that I have never shared Lol. Anyway, thanks for reading. Much love. Update Sunday!
Part 17 Part 19 Chapter Index
“They’re going to have someone in there keeping an eye out now.” Kung Lao kicked a loose stone on the walkway, arms folded over his chest. “So much for that idea.”
“For now. We weren’t getting anywhere anyway.” You were still in wonder that any of that had happened. It felt like a fever dream. Your whole life kind of felt like a fever dream now. “Maybe I was wrong. Maybe it isn’t in there. I tried to trust the vision and my gut, but it led us in circles. Nothing looked the same as it did back then.”
“Why would it lead you there otherwise? Maybe this shrine has changed more over the years than we thought.”
“You think so?” You furrowed your brow. He had pushed you like you’d been doing something wrong for a small moment inside the shrine but there he was, preaching his belief in you. It’d been easy to escape the frustration of not knowing where you were going with all that had happened in the shrine, but it was back in full force now. You were grateful to Kung Lao for not making it weird, but it was also a little weird to act like it hadn’t happened. You had a feeling that he knew exactly what he was doing.
“I trust your gut, Y/N.” He shrugged as if it were nothing. That was nice. You weren’t sure anyone trusted you those days so to hear it put so plainly as if it were no big deal was wonderful. “Let’s take a walk and rethink our strategy.” Together you walked around the shrine and along the path slowly, making your way toward the volcanic cauldrons.
Some were surrounded by posts and signs, expressing what they represented and why the water was the way that it was, but you didn’t stop to try and read any of them. Many of the cauldrons had small statues lined up surrounding their edge, placed there for prayer. You didn’t speak much. It seemed that rethinking your strategy was mostly just thinking. You were okay with that. Your head was still buzzing.
It was important to try and clear the fog from your mind. Between the disorientation of this place being so different from the vision in your head and then everything with Kung Lao, you were dizzy. You stopped before one of the cauldrons and Kung Lao read the sign above it.
“One of the hells of Mount Osore…” He was not good at silence, it turned out. He hadn’t been when you were younger either. You’d asked him once back then and he’d said silence was too loud. The dizziness became a buzzing, and the buzzing became darkness. You thought that you’d drifted to sleep to the hum of Kung Lao’s voice.
When you opened your eyes again, you gasped for breath. Your lungs were on fire, as though you had been deprived of oxygen for too long, as if invisible hands had reached into your chest and grasped your lungs to force all the air out. You lost your footing and stumbled forward but before you fell, Kung Lao had his arms around your middle and was pulling you back to him with a forceful yank. You lost your balance and collapsed into him, grasping his arms in surprise with a yelp. He held you upright.
“What the hell, Y/N? You can’t just do that!” He scolded. You gasped to refill your sore lungs and the ache began to fade. You weren’t where you’d been when you’d been listening to Kung Lao but you recognized the place immediately. It was the lake of blood from your vision. You turned in his arms to apologize but the words didn’t come. How did that happen? How had it happened? His expression went from frustration to concern quickly. You wanted to ask what happened, you wanted to ask him how you’d gotten there, but in your mind’s eye, you could see your body falling into that pool and the horned creature staring over you as you drowned beneath the red water.
You shuddered and covered your mouth. Maybe Raiden was right. It hadn’t felt like there was a shadow hanging over you until then when your body had moved beyond your control.
“Y/N, did you hear me?”
“What happened? What are you talking about? What did I do?” The words came out extremely fast, all at once almost. Bless Kung Lao for understanding a word of it.
“I was reading about that cauldron over there.” He gestured down the path. It seemed so distant now but that was the last thing you remembered. “And you walked away. I followed you and you stepped up and just went to jump right in. Right into the blood lake. Didn’t respond to me when I called you.” He tried to joke but there was an underlying concern that neither one of you could shake. “If you wanted to take a dip, Y/N, then you just had to say so. There’s those bathhouses.”
“No, no Kung Lao. I… I’m confused, that’s all. I don’t remember coming here. I closed my eyes to listen to you talk.” His low and deep voice was soothing, but you wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of knowing that right now. “Then I felt like I was falling, and I couldn’t breathe. Then you and… here we are.” You gestured to his arms that still held you and you felt his fingers sink a bit further into the clothing at your waist as if that would protect you somehow.
“You really don’t remember walking up to the creepy blood lake and almost throwing yourself in?” His face was flooded with concern. You shook your head no. “Okay.”
“You believe me?”
“Of course I do, Y/N. You’re white as a ghost. Why would you lie about something like that? Also, you’re terrible at lying.”
“Thank you?” You couldn’t decide if that was a dig or not.
“Okay.” He exhaled and you watched his face contort as his tongue ran over his teeth. “In that case no more wandering away from me. You stay with me at all times. Got it? We tell Raiden as soon as we can.”
“Okay except that I don’t remember wandering away from you, Kung Lao. You were reading and then…”
“What do you think caused this?”
“I don’t know. I really don’t. Honestly, afterward I saw this part in my vision. I’d been choking on ink but in my head, I was drowning.” You pointed toward the red volcanic cauldron. “In there. And I could see that creature. He was watching me. I… I thought it was just my brain interpreting the ink in my throat but… what if… Raiden’s right?”
“You doubted that Raiden was right?”
“This has been a lot, Kung Lao. Accepting it all at face value is difficult.” You responded somewhat defensively.
Kung Lao finally let you go and turned away. He pulled off his hat, pushed back his hair, and then cursed. That would have been funny had you not still been coping with almost drowning because your body had decided to try to kill you. “Okay. We’ll deal with that as we go. I’m changing the subject now because I’m not sure how to process what you just did without talking to Raiden.”
“Smart. Avoiding the problem. Like it.” You were happy to go back to thinking about literally anything else. Up until now you’d handled all this nonsense with relative poise. You’d like to keep it that way.
“Let’s discuss strategy. What do you remember from your vision about the room where this artifact is supposed to be?”
“There was a well. The creature placed something inside of it and I heard this horrible ringing in my head. It was… sad?” It was difficult to describe a ringing as having emotion, but it had been sad. You’d had the distinct feeling that it was sad.
“Back up. What about the well? There was no well in that room. In fact, the whole shrine is elevated. There was a step down in the back for dining, maybe? Could the well have been in that area?”
“I think the floor of the shrine used to be level with the ground. Maybe they built over it? I read that it was abandoned here for some time.”
“That’s a very distinct possibility. Great. Now we get to desecrate a holy place. Loving this more by the second.”
“Or we can hope there’s a hatch above the old well or a way to get beneath the shrine without destroying it.”
“There are way too many people here for us to search that thoroughly without being caught.”
“You’re right. We need privacy.”
“And I’m all out of excuses, honestly.”
“The excuse you came up with earlier only really works the one time before it becomes incredibly suspicious.” You felt your face flush despite yourself. Kung Lao stood just behind you and bent over to be closer. You could feel the smirk on his face.
“You kissed me back so… didn’t feel like much of a lie.” He made a kissy sound near your ear and you tilted away and swatted at him.
“Stay focused, Kung Lao! So, we spend the rest of the day and then pretend to leave ahead of everyone. Then we can sneak in after the monks are at rest, right? Hopefully, we find an easy way to get to where we need to go.”
“That’s as good a plan as any.” Kung Lao began to lead you away from the volcanic cauldrons and you were grateful. The air was thicker there and, quite honestly, the more distance between you and the blood lake the better. “And if we’re caught tearing up the floor of the shrine in the middle of the night, then I’m pretty sure that no amount of making out will get us out of it without getting into trouble.”
“If we’re caught then we could try to be honest about it like I wanted to be in the first place.” You stuck your tongue out at him. “You could try it every so often. It works.”
“Wow.” Kung Lao sounded truly insulted but also laughed as if surprised you had the audacity. “What is that supposed to mean?”
“Let’s just talk like adults for a few seconds. I’m not that little girl that you teased all the time. You don’t have to come up with crazy fake-date schemes. Hell, I’m surprised that you didn’t say we could only afford one room at this point.”
“Oh.” He straightened his posture and furrowed his brow. You nodded as if to confirm that he was far more obvious than he thought he was. “Does it really bother you?”
“Bother is a strong word, Kung Lao. Sometimes you’re just… all over the place. You go from pushing me too hard to not listening to me to having unwavering faith in me. Sometimes in a span of like ten minutes. I don’t mind the teasing, honestly, but it’s difficult to focus when I can’t tell what’s going on with you.”
“Okay.” He puffed up his cheeks as he thought and then exhaled deeply. “So, I don’t quite know how to act around you.” You were genuinely surprised that he was speaking so candidly. You’d expected him to laugh it off and move on. He didn’t.
“Why? I only expect you to be yourself.”
“I know. That’s not on you. I’ve had a lot on my mind.”
“You don’t always act like there’s a whole lot going on in there.”
“Wow.” He winced.
“Sorry, it was easy. I get it though. I have a lot on my mind too, but you are all over the place since you got back. You tease me like we’re kids, then you flirt with me like we’re very much not kids, then you push me when I tell you that I can’t be pushed anymore. It is a rollercoaster spending time with you.”
“I guess I didn’t realize I was so all over the place.” He laughed and you walked together again. The further you were from the cauldrons the better you felt. “It’s funny. I’m still a little shocked that you’re here with me. Little Y/N. My Y/N. Weirder than that is that you are the person I found peace in when I returned home to clear my mind. I never thought I’d see you again. I can’t believe I didn’t recognize you.” He avoided your eyes, and you got the chills but refused to shake them off. Him speaking so fondly of you in such a serious tone was freaking you out. These were things that you probably should have talked about far sooner. Instead, it felt as though he’d gone into some weird unspoken competition with Liu Kang for your attention. It wasn’t a competition. You just wanted to talk to him. “Your hair threw me off, I think. You didn’t keep it white. Same face now that I know. Cheeks aren’t so chubby anymore, though.” He pinched your cheek playfully and you scrunched up your face and swatted his hand away.
“I… didn’t recognize you either and you came into my store at least a dozen times over the last couple years. And the dojo just as many. I remember you fondly. You were always very kind with the students. And you look way different, I mean I can still see it, but you had these… dimples as a kid.” You poked the sides of your mouth. “They were so deep then. You still have them but they’re much more subtle.” It was funny. Something about his honesty cleared the air at least for the time being. “Also, I thought you were dead. So, I never considered I’d see you again.”
“You would have been crazy to have guessed it was me.”
“Sometimes I think that I have gone completely crazy and I’m in a hospital somewhere. That this is all an elaborate fantasy that my mind has conjured up to help cope with my madness.”
“I could see that.”
“What? The wild improbability of the truth?”
“No. You being in a nuthouse somewhere.”
You laughed and shoved his shoulder. He nudged you in return. “Some things don’t change, I guess.”
“I defaulted to sarcasm with you. Being together reminds me of when life was simpler. It’s easy to joke and get carried away but I understand that there is also distance with time and age and that this is extremely complicated. And that we haven’t talked about it. Talking about this kind of stuff makes me feel… uncomfortable.”
“What? No. I couldn’t tell.” You walked peacefully along the stone path. Across the way the monks were giving a demonstration and others were setting up tables for a meal near the white beach.
“Can I confess something?” He led you off the stone and down onto the white sand that bordered the beautiful, but absolutely artificial looking, lake. He offered you his hand to help you down and you took it. He didn’t let go of it as you walked together. Fun new game again: fake date or Kung Lao being affectionate? Your brain hated this game. Your heart hated it even more.
“That depends. Is it appropriate to say? Will I smack you when you make this confession? Will you be getting smacked and are you ready to risk being smacked?”
“Maybe. It’s hard to gauge how grown-up Y/N will react to most things.”
“Go ahead, Kung Lao. I’ll try not to smack you but no promises.”
“I uh…” He hesitated and then let go of your hand in favor of grasping the air in front of him as if trying to reach for the words to say what was on his mind. “I hate that you have the dragon mark.” You stopped in your tracks and Kung Lao stopped with you. Of all the things you’d expected, it hadn’t been that.
“What?”
“Yeah. Little Y/N. The girl with the gift, mom called you. You had enough problems. Now you’re here. A warrior chosen to fight for earthrealm alongside me and a bunch of other misfits with the same mark. Lost your home. Your life.”
“I could see your logic, Kung Lao, but I’m tough.” Your heart was racing again. Was this serious conversation better or worse than the rollercoaster ride that was Kung Lao? You couldn’t decide.
“Yeah, Liu showed me the bruises you’d left on him. I was a little impressed. However, you, just moments ago I might add, unconsciously almost drowned yourself in a lake of blood. Went completely gray, weren’t breathing, just walked over and almost threw yourself in.”
“Yeah, that is concerning.” He was right. The dragon marking and your arcana had awoken things within you that were beyond anyone’s control, especially yours. You were scared. You couldn’t imagine how it had to have felt to be watching it happen to someone you cared about. “You know, Lao, it’s probably not actually blood. I’d guess it’s algae making the water red…” You tried to joke but it was a feeble attempt. Kung Lao didn’t even smile.
“That’s not the point.”
You stepped in front of him and offered him a tired and forced smile. “I don’t regret where I’ve wound up, Kung Lao.” It was your turn to speak honestly. To say things that you’d meant to say and had been afraid to say for a long time. You’d kept waiting for the ‘right time’ but the time would never be right. “I’m terrified.” You searched around them just to make sure no one was close enough to overhear. “I killed people, Kung Lao. I never thought I’d be capable of such a thing. My dojo? My shop? They’re gone. I probably won’t see my family ever again or any of the people I associated with home. That life is gone. It scares me. Everything I knew is… being unlearned and relearned. At the same time? I feel like this is where I’m meant to be.”
“Yeah. You didn’t really get to process much of that, did you? Just went straight to studying and training with Liu Kang.” Kung Lao sounded almost bitter. You hadn’t thought about it that way. Liu Kang had been a beacon of comfort to you but was that healthy? Maybe some of what had escalated your whatever-it-was you were had something to do with your sudden lack of control. You were attracted to him, sure, in a crazy way even, but you were also vulnerable. Maybe the attachment between you had gone from big to huge because of it. You felt guilty. Liu. Oh, no. You’d kissed Kung Lao. Not just kissed him but kissed him. Things were instantly that much more complicated and messy. You had to talk to Liu. You had to sort out your thoughts. You had to do the same with Kung Lao. But you didn’t know how and just kept kissing them. It wasn’t like you’d ever been good at romance.
“It’s been difficult. But also surreal. Easy to forget some of it.”
“I get it. Really, I do. Because I’m not done confessing things yet.” He still sounded uncomfortable but urged his hand to your back and continued your walk. “I’m also super grateful that you have the dragon mark.”
“Well, that’s conflicting as hell. I’m having a hard time processing that.”
“I never would have gotten to know who you were or get to know you again at all without the mark. It’s brought me closure, in a way. I never thought I’d see you again.” You walked in silence and you felt your eyes burn just enough with tears that you thought talking was a mistake. You breathed through the sudden urge to cry until it faded.
“I’d like to state for the record, that you being this serious is freaking me out a little.”
“It’s been known to happen now and again.” He bowed his head politely to you after tucking his hat beneath his arm. “I’m sorry that I’ve been weird since I got back.”
“It’s okay, Kung Lao. This has been difficult.”
“Y/N?” He started, as though he had something important to say. He hesitated then exhaled and replaced his hat back on his head, tucking the strap under his chin. “Let’s keep walking.” He turned away and did just that as though he’d said nothing at all. There was clearly something on his mind that must have been difficult to share. You caught up to him.
“What aren’t you saying?”
He turned to you and searched your face with a glint of worry that faded so fast you weren’t sure if you’d imagined it or not. Then he smiled.
“I’m starving. That’s what I’m not saying. The sun is going to set anytime now and they’re setting up food so we should grab some.” He started back across the sand. You grasped his hand and pulled him back. That was not what he’d struggled to say.
“Lao, really. You can talk to me.”
“I know, Y/N.” He smiled so you let go of his hand. Whatever it was, he wasn’t ready to talk about it and who were you to say he should be? “Let’s get some food. You’re still gray so I’d like to see you eat.” If nothing else, he at least seemed less all over the place. What were you going to do? You didn’t know so you couldn’t think about it right now. You’d take everything one step at a time. It was all you could do.
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makeste · 4 years
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BnHA Chapter 282: Aizawa Defeeted
Previously on BnHA: Oh my god do we even care about that at this point. Tomura made a speech; Gran Torino died; Deku lost his shit and tried to strangle Tomura to death with his bare hands; Ryuukyuu came back from Wherever She Was and tried to grab Tomura but he punched a hole through her giant hand; and now he’s grabbing his Quirk-Be-Gone bullets and is ready to cause some mayhem okay?? That about sum it up?? Is anyone even reading this?? CAN WE JUST GET ON WITH IT I’VE WAITED AN ENTIRE WEEK.
Today on BnHA: Well I guess let’s start with what doesn’t happen: Bakugou doesn’t lose his quirk. HE LUCKED OUT!!... for now, anyways. Because, thanks to a near-impossible-to-predict series of events (seriously, raise your hands if you had “Aizawa gets shot but goes full World War Z on his own ass” on your bingo card), Tomura has seemingly regained his regeneration powers, which means that his other quirks are probably back online as well! So we’ll see how that all goes. Anyway so in the meantime Shouto’s back, looking very mad that everyone temporarily forgot he was a main character. And Gigantomachia is back as well! Or almost, anyway. Also, you’ll never guess who broke another one of his arms! Go on, guess. But at least he still has the arm, though, which is more than we can say for certain other people’s limbs. Poor Aizawa is literally on his last leg. He and Tomura really got off on the wrong foot. He chopped his leg off, is what I’m saying. It’s that kind of chapter folks.
you guys I’m losing my whole fucking mind. I straight up deleted the tumblr app off my phone for 24 hours so that I wouldn’t be tempted to log in and risk potentially being spoiled. and I’m happy to say that it worked! so here we are now, completely spoiler free, and let me just say that if Horikoshi decides to cut back to Gunga Mountain now, I will either cry for hours or abandon the series forever and go do something more productive with the rest of my quarantine like learning how to play sad songs on the guitar
all right. here goes
so we’re opening with Deku, who is currently comprised of 100% rage and 0% mercy, and is doing that thing where only the whites of his eyes are visible. and basically he’s just thinking “I’VE REALLY GOT TO HOLD ON TO THIS GUY AND MAKE SURE HE DOESN’T DO ANYTHING ELSE HOMICIDAL.” which is a solid game plan, but perhaps not so easily accomplished
-- oh my god this poor kid is still in denial, I can’t. why are you doing this
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is there even still a Gran Torino to tend to at this point? after Tomura bulldozed a hole through his torso, and you went and finished the job with your own fucking attack? sob
but I guess the law of Tragic Shounen Mentor Deaths mandates that Gran’s should be at least as drawn-out as Nighteye’s was, though. so he’s probably only Mostly Dead, which is still Slightly Alive if I remember my Princess Bride correctly, and I think I do
so now the rest of these stooges are finally catching up with us here
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yes, my friends. a bullet. WELCOME TO MY LIFE FOR THE PAST FUCKING WEEK. anyways I have a LOT of pent-up energy here just fyi. there may be a lot of unnecessary screaming in this recap
FUCKING WYOMING SMASH Y’ALLSSSS
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I HAVE NO FUCKING IDEA WHAT JUST HAPPENED SOB. DID HE JUST HAMMER FIST TOMURA’S HEAD INTO THE GROUND. DID HE SNAP HIS FUCKING NECK AT 100%. IN AN IDEAL WORLD HE WOULD HAVE JUST CHOPPED TOMURA’S ARMS OFF WHILE SOMEHOW MANAGING TO AVOID BREAKING ANY OF HIS OWN BONES IN THE PROCESS, BUT I HAVE A FEELING THIS SITUATION WILL NOT BE RESOLVED IN ANY KIND OF MANNER ONE WOULD CONSIDER “IDEAL”
(ETA: fun fact: this attack did absolutely nothing except make things approximately 100x worse. but you tried Deku. you tried.)
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THE FUCK KIND OF PORTENTOUS BULLSHITTING TITLE IS THIS. OH MY GOD, I DON’T EVEN KNOW WHAT EMOTION I’M HAVING RIGHT NOW, IT’S JUST A LOT OF LOUD THOUGHTS
anyway so if you’re just joining us, Tomura just pulled two bullets out of his pocket, the good guys finally noticed, and then Deku did a smash and everything exploded. the radius of this attack actually looks wide enough to have potentially involved Aizawa, who probably does NOT want to get any debris in his eyes right now, and also Gran, who probably doesn’t particularly want to be hit by another deadly attack for the third time in the past ninety seconds. anyway so I guess what I’m trying to say here is WHAT WAS THE POINT OF THAT YOU LITTLE GREEN LUNATIC
AHHHHHH
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he got the one!! the one that was in Tomura’s right hand!! but what about the one in his left ahhhhhhh
(ETA: lmao at Kacchan being the one to blow up the same bullet I was so sure he was going to be shot with. saw the writing on the wall, huh kid? what do we say to the god of foreshadowing?? ‘NOT TODAY.’ ...except that we’re still not actually out of the woods yet so you still better watch yourself lol.)
...
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based on the font here, these are Tomura’s thoughts. which he is thinking immediately after getting the lower half of his jaw very painfully cronched by the VERY homicidal sixteen-year-old still clinging to him. anyway so Tomura’s thought processes are as inscrutable to me as ever lulz
and Deku’s arm looks broken again, yaaaaay. but at least it’s his left arm and not his right! so that’s nice. now they can match
[SHRIEKS]
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HE YEETED IT. IT HAS BEEN YEETEDED. HE DID A YEET. [sobbing] he DiD a YeEt oH my GOD
DID IT HIT SOMETHING!?!?!?
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my reading process here is as follows: 1) scroll down exactly one panel. 2) scream even though absolutely nothing has happened yet. 3) WRITE THAT DOWN 4) REPEAT
DKSFJLKHSDLGKHLI
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DID IT HIT HIM!?!? DID IT GET HIM IN THE LEG SOB ARE YOU FUCKING SERIOUS. JUST LIKE THAT?? BOOM GUN BULLET LEG!!?
YOU GUYS IT REALLY HIT AIZAWA AND NO ONE DID A GODDAMN THING?? it wasn’t even drawn out or anything??? it just HAPPENED, within like four pages??? NO SLOW MO?? NOT EVEN A REACTION PANEL WHAT THE FUCK
son of a bitch I would so dearly like to grab Manual and RockLockRock’s heads right now and just conk them together real hard. YOU STUPID FUCKS sob YOU HAD ONE JOB!!! IT REALLY WAS JUST ONE!! AND YOU WERE SHARING IT!! SO IT’S MORE LIKE HALF A JOB!! AND YOU STILL COCKED IT UP IN ABSOLUTELY NO TIME AT ALL OH MY GOD
(ETA: they should blow this panel up and make it into a t-shirt and make Manual and RLR wear the shirts every day for the rest of their lives. half a job, you guys. please go away I cannot even look at you right now.)
FUCK MY EVERYTHING
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(ETA: I still can’t figure out if this horrific angle is due to the earlier damage from the Noumu, or if Tomura really just flung the bullet THAT hard. honestly I’m surprised it didn’t just slice right through him with that kind of velocity. “no thanks because then I wouldn’t get to write a scene where he chops his own leg off” oh okay well when you put it that way, Horikoshi.)
if I recall correctly this is the leg that he said was “twisted”, no? yeesh. might just want to chop it off real quick, then. s’not like it’s doing you any more good. does anyone know if zombie rules apply or not with this sort of thing?? shit
?!?!
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“THANKS”?? okay what. did it hit him or not??
-- oh my god WAIT. WAIT. WAIT. WAIT. WAIT. WAIT. WAIT
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I WAS -- I WAS JOKING I -- FFFFFFFFKJK
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jesus fucking christ. when I said “might just want to chop it off real quick” literally FOUR PARAGRAPHS AGO, I can tell you that the one thing I did NOT expect was for Aizawa to be all, “you know what, that’s a good idea”, and then YOINK OUT HIS TRUSTY HERO SHANK AND GO FULL 127 HOURS ON THIS BITCH. "LALALA WE’RE GONNA DO IT RATIONALLY TEEHEE” like excuse me, the fuck
anyways. I don’t even know what to say. thank you Aizawa’s leg for your sacrifice, and for always supporting him. literally. oh my god I came here ready for my son to enter a new phase of character development, and for the manga as a whole to enter a new phase of glorious, glorious angst. no one told me I’d be sitting here making puns instead. what a fine, confusing day
anyway though let’s just fucking hope it worked. and side note, if Aizawa Shouta really did chop off his own fucking leg just now and somehow STILL managed not to fucking blink, I think we might as well just go ahead and hand him the Biggest Badass In The Series award right now because no one is ever going to top that. nope. not happening
it is truly a testament to Shigaraki Tomura’s unfathomably mysterious sexy villain energy that he still somehow manages to look hot with only half a face
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also no one in this manga actually feels pain, do they. not Deku, not Aizawa, not Tomura, no one. no wonder none of them have any self-preservation instincts to speak of
um
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did someone just randomly explode just now. at this point it might as well happen, right
oh it’s the shockwave from Deku’s Wyoming attack, apparently. how nice of it to have a delayed reaction for absolutely no reason
anyway so Deku’s being flung back, but he’s grabbing onto Tomura again with Blackwhip. but oh shit you guys, if Tomura escapes Deku and Ryuukyuu’s clutches and still has any bullets left in his pocket, we may still be able to salvage this Bakugou quirk situation after all. would be nice to be able to actually do something with all of these “happy quirk losing day” balloons that I ordered
(ETA: actually, believe it or not I honestly like this better. Tomura using AFO was always the more dramatic option anyway. and now that we’ve done the bullet thing everyone has presumably let their guard down again, which, good.)
I love how Tomura apparently hasn’t noticed that Aizawa’s just amputated his own leg? to be fair he’s probably distracted by all the explosions and such
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also gotta love how Deku’s arm-breaking attack seemingly just made everything worse for no reason. and also how Manual and RockLockRock are once again just standing there doing absolutely nothing
SO NOW GUESS WHAT’S HAPPENING
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I MEAN IT! GUESS. BECAUSE YOUR GUESS IS AS GOOD AS MINE LOL
OH WELL OKAY THEN
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just like we all saw coming!! ...
so is this Endeavor’s attack?? Bakugou’s?? either way, hot damn. fortunately for Tomura he is apparently operating under the same guidelines as the U.S. Federal Reserve, in which mutilated bills may still be exchanged at face value if more than 50% of a note identifiable as United States currency is present. basically as long as roughly half of him is still vaguely Tomura-shaped I assume he’ll be fine
(ETA: in hindsight I should have immediately been able to identify this as a Shouto attack based solely on how murdery it was lol.)
OH MY GODDDD
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KRANCH?!?
OH MY GOD LOL WHAT. LOL. REMEMBER EVERYONE’S THEORIES FROM LIKE TWENTY YEARS AGO LOL. SHOUTO WHAT THE FUCK. DID YOU STOP FOR DRIVE THRU
AND MEANWHILE DEKU’S BACK ON THE SCENE GIVING ARGUABLY EVEN LESS FUCKS THAN BEFORE, IF SUCH A THING IS EVEN POSSIBLE. SO FAR THIS CHAPTER HAS PRECISELY ZERO THINGS THAT I ACTUALLY EXPECTED IN IT, WHICH IS VERY IMPRESSIVE
IT ALSO HAS A LOT OF SMASHING
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a LOT. of smashing, guys. feels like... 60% smashing, 20% severed legs, 20% Kranch
-- oh no oh SHIT oh shit oh shit
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(ETA: um so I really can’t tell how far that wound extends and whether or not Aizawa still has his right eye, shit.)
first of all how did Deku get here next to Aizawa when he was just over there with Tomura, what. and second, I think Aizawa just blinked, oh shit. probably on the verge of passing out after CHOPPING HIS OWN LEG OFF which STILL hasn’t been acknowledged yet?? did I just completely misinterpret all of that back there or what
(ETA: there was seriously so little attention called to this that I scrolled back up to confirm it probably like half a dozen times. apparently Horikoshi thinks that THE MOST BADASS THING TO EVER HAPPEN IN THE MANGA should be completely downplayed. whereas if it were me, there’d be an entire two page spread of JUST THE LEG. WITH MUSIC PLAYING. EVEN THOUGH IT’S A MANGA.)
YEPPPPPPP. fuck
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look at him though. he’s so happy. this is why I can’t stay mad at you no matter how deranged you get you little maniac
so is quirk-stealing back on the menu then or what. don’t think I’ve been lulled into any kind of false sense of security by any of this lol
-- ARE WE SERIOUSLY CUTTING AWAY
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so Todoroki really went after them ALONE. the better to put his dad right back up at the top of the Lose Your Quirk Sweepstakes finalists. well... second-to-top, maybe. like I said I will not be lulled
yuh-oh
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why do I feel like the odds of Gigantomachia arriving to herald the end of this chapter just shot up DRAMATICALLY
so the next page is almost entirely just a list of cities that the news anchor is telling people to evacuate because they’re in Machia’s path. along with a bunch of dead heroes lying around everywhere, and Ochako being all ominous
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(: weren’t they, though? heh. this is going to be so, so bad (: (: (:
-- fuuuuuuuuuuu
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aaaaaand that’s it. hahahaha. okay then let’s summarize
Bakugou defied all expectations and kept his quirk (FOR NOW)!
Aizawa cut his own fucking leg off and it WASN’T EVEN REMOTELY ACKNOWLEDGED FOR REASONS I CAN’T UNDERSTAND (R.I.P. AIZAWA’S PRECIOUS LEG. YOU ALWAYS PUT YOUR BEST FOOT FORWARD)
Kranch showed up after 157 years and is probably wondering why the heck I keep calling him “Kranch” now. THINGS CHANGE WHEN YOU’RE MIA FOR A WHILE MY LITTLE STARBUCKS CHRISTMAS CUP
Deku broke his arm for the 78th time
Tomura regenerated but seems to think Aizawa’s quirk is actually gone for good, which I’m pretty sure it’s not. so if they can keep him from destroying everything long enough for Aizawa to turn it back on again, we might possibly still survive this
and lastly, Machia is about to kill all of these stupid people frolicking around outside of this fitness club who are probably so proud of themselves for not being glued to their phones 24/7 because they prefer to LIVE LIFE IN THE MOMENT, THANK YOU VERY MUCH. well that’s on you my friends. at least it’ll be a quick death. ffff
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butterfly--empress · 3 years
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So About BnHA…
Man! I don’t participate much on here but it sure has been an interesting popcorn eating time, lurking through the good, the bad, and the annoying posts in the spoiler chapter tags. For this week’s chapter, especially!
Not gonna rant (I save those for close friends on discord) 
I do notice that lines within this crazy ass fandom have been drawn, tears have been shed and righteous fury has been felt. And no matter wtf Mister Horikoshi has in stored for chapter 320, it’s going to be a make or break chapter for a lot of folks. I did try my best to keep this post Bakugou neutral grounds. I don’t think I’ve bashed nor favored the character just fyi.
But the most inconspicuous opinions can be taken too serious these days…
The Silly:
For chapter 320 onwards, I am and have ALWAYS BEEN 100% Team: The Legend, The Myth, The Champ, Izuku ‘Feral!Rabbit-Cryptid!’ Midoriya! Win or Lose, I ride or die with Midoriya, hands down! ON GOD!
While everybody yelling into the tumblr void over whose gonna win or lose.
I’m sitting here thinking about two things: A) Has no one thought that maybe some of Class 1-A might side with Deku? *coughsUraraka/Iida/Todorokicoughs* *coughsmaybeevenMineta/Asui/Yaoyorozu???coughs* *coughs maybe even a surprise Shinsou/class1-b reveal even though class 1-b don’t know deku that well* B) Did everyone forget in all the excitement that uhh my boi has yet to unlock the 2nd OFA user’s quirk???
I mean, I’m not saying if it does come down to a bawl of drama and angst, that Izuku’s gonna win.
But I am saying, if it does come down to a bawl of drama and angst, that Izuku’s gonna win…I regret nothing with this bet! If my boi loses we just gonna take that L but…ya know…*shrugs*…Baby, beat their Bakugou’s collective asses.
The Serious:
Personally, I honest to god really love this shounen series with all my heart. It is the anime that reignited my love for shounen after my fatigued of constant disappointment with two old shounen favorites. 
Now, having said all that: I truly have not had a serious issue with the writing choices made by Horikoshi. Yes, I have my…gripes…(it’s complicated) but considering what I got compared to the stuff I’ve watched/read in the past, it’s definitely better to me. Having read/watched a lot of anime/manga and shounen, (I haven’t watched them ALL, srsly after my great disappointment and real life I sort of had an anime dry spell if you must know. Watched some stuff here and there when I could/in the mood but not as frequent as I’ve done like yrs ago), I’ve come to learn to just…begrudgingly accept/expect certain; I suppose you can say, writing choices or ‘tropes’ that I can just easily ignore them, roll my eyes when I see them, and still enjoy whatever I’m invested in at the time. 
The only real frustrations I have is with a certain character. Yes, I mean Bakugou. I have come to tolerate him, I have come to begrudgingly like him, especially after a second rewatch of the series, I could see and accept that in a very typical shounen way, Bakugou did change, though very little, and it’s subtle and undeniably frustrating how it’s happening but it’s there. However, I do question Horikoshi’s writing choices when it comes to him at times. I see the character development, I know it’s there but….*sighs*
Now I’m one of these people who do believe that the creator of this universe, actually knows wtf he’s doing with his own story (even if rabid/hormonal younger fans loudly disagree but YMMV). One thing I’ve noticed, for the most part, he doesn’t just write/draw things for the hell of it, even if a certain plot or a certain character’s development takes a snail’s pace to get to the point. The conclusion of building up to arcs do have a pay off. (And I 100% understand that for some people, moving at a snail’s pace just don’t cut it. Everything cannot please everybody all of the time and that is FINE!)
Katsuki Bakugou…I know the crumbs and very subtle ways he’s changed have to lead somewhere and to something huge. When Bakugou admits to All Might he bullied Midoriya when they were kids, I had an ‘ah ha!’ Moment. The fact that a very prideful guy like Bakugou was finally starting to admit just that much, (even though, we the audience knows it runs way deeper than he’s admitting here) even in his frustrating roundabout way I like to think this is progress, is very in-character and cannot just be for the hell of it. It has to be leading up to something else other than Bakugou jumping in to take that hit for Deku during the war arc. There is unresolved tension still between Bakugou and Midoriya that is not going to just go away because they will it to.
Which brings us to Chapters 318 and especially 319. It’s the perfect set up for all the dirty skeletons to come out of the closet that both Bakugou and Midoriya have been avoiding/trying to pretend doesn’t exists between them, because it’s been a long time coming. The honest to god truth? This is actually how I always thought this confrontation will go, with a showdown that forces Midoriya into a corner where all those repressed negative feelings he’s bottled up inside is bound to come out; Because I Honestly think Izuku would take what Bakugou’s done to him to his grave if he had it, his way. (Boy can be very frustratingly stubborn when he wants to be).
It’s just, after saying all this, I don’t hold my breath that Horikoshi will take it there…The opportunity is there, I want it to go there, it NEEDS to go there! In order for both characters to come out for the better. But will Mister Horikoshi ‘DO THE THING?’
Remains to be seen. A little bit of me is hopeful, another part of me is resigning myself to feeling dissatisfied with what little we got for Bakugou’s character development and by proxy, Izuku’s getting stuck in limbo. I’m not kidding, Bakugou being a very contentious character within this fandom doesn’t just come from nowhere. But this post isn’t about me ranting into the void about Bakugou. (I don’t even think I can muster up the rage I felt the first time watching MHA blindly to rant to high hell about the bullshit Bakugou’s done now.)
I suppose I will just have to internally scream for 1,000 yrs over half baked character development if Horikoshi doesn’t do the FUCKING THING in giving a satisfying pay off to Katsuki and Midoriya’s history. I’ll just frustratingly chalk it up to old freaking shounen logic and just continue to enjoy the series because I’ve been here for Izuku Midoriya since ep 1 and I am not about to let Bakugou or Horikoshi’s unwillingness to do something with him derail that. And there’s always hoping that someone is writing some really good Bakugou gets actual Consequences fanfic out there because ooh boy…I like Bakugou but mofo can catch these hands…and I’m not even a fighter, but Bakugou…this lil shit does make you want to choke the hell out of him at times. 
I haven’t been this emotionally frustrated over an anime character since…maybe fucking Louise from Zero no Tsukaima and it takes a LOT to make me actually dislike characters, good or bad. 
All in All: Regardless of how the story goes from here on out, we are all about to lose our collective shits. No matter how you feel about which characters…
It’s about to go down!
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Glittering Green
Written for the 2020 Kidgezine: Kaleidoscope!
Thanks to coronavirus, this year’s zine is a free-to-read PDF. You can find the link to it here: https://kidgezine.tumblr.com/post/628198963429998592/after-a-rough-year-it-is-complete-thank-you-to 
(Due to tumblr hiding posts with hyperlinks in the original post, I’ll be reblogging this post and putting the hyperlinks to the kidgezine and to AO3 there. Sorry for the inconvenience.)
Summary: Keith had felt drawn to the ocean since he was a child. He grew up on the shore. It was where he made his first friend. And years later, it would be where he found freedom.
Also posted to AO3 under the username Kishirokitsune.
- - - - - 
Glittering Green
Keith didn’t get along with many people. He was too quiet, too shy, too odd. He lived on the beach with his single father, who worked for the coast guard. It was just the two of them in their massive family home, and they never had any company over, which made them look strange in the eyes of the townsfolk.
Neither of them let that get to them.
Keith loved that it was just the two of them. His dad never called his interests weird and never pressed when he was in one of his quiet moods, except to check in and see if he wanted anything. Some days the only thing he wanted was to sit down on the beach and look out over the ocean, and his dad rarely said no to that.
He was drawn to the ocean in a way he couldn’t explain. He always had been.
That was where he met her.
She was hidden from view behind the boulder, mostly submerged in the water as she relaxed and picked through a handful of shells. Chestnut hair tumbled over her shoulders, covering part of her bare chest, and parts of it were braided and decorated with what looked like colorful beads.
Keith nearly fell off of the rock in surprise but righted himself in time. “Wh-who are you?”
She twisted around to peer up at him with wide, light brown eyes, her mouth parting soundlessly, and then she slid beneath the surface of the water and vanished from view.
Panic laced through Keith’s veins and he fought between the urge to jump in to help her or staying put where it was safe. The undertow was dangerous there - the push and pull of the waves as the current broke against the rough ocean floor was deadly to even experienced divers. He couldn’t go in.
He peered into the water, searching for any sign of movement. If she resurfaced, he may be able to reach down and pull her up.
“Please be okay,” he whispered. “Where are you?”
He decided to wait another minute and then he would go get help. His dad would know what to do.
Time ticked away and still he saw nothing.
With a heavy heart, Keith moved back into a sitting position and prepared to go back to the house, and that was when he saw a flicker of green breach the surface, followed by her face, peering back at him from a distance away.
Keith laid flat on the rock and stretched out his hand. “Can you swim this way? I’ll pull you out!”
She stared back, unmoving except to bob in the waves.
Why wasn’t she moving? Didn’t she want to get out? Why was she even out there by herself?
The girl tilted her head and then began to swim closer, reaching out to touch his hand once she was close enough. She didn’t grab on so he could pull her in. Instead, she pressed her hand to his so they were resting palm-to-palm, finger-to-finger.
“Who are you?” Keith blurted out, the question overpowering all of the others he had. He blanched at his rudeness and hurried to correct himself. “My name’s Keith. What’s yours?”
Still, she said nothing, and Keith began to wonder if she could talk at all. Her hands were gentle against his, and if he looked closely, it almost appeared as though her skin was covered in glitter, the way it sparkled under the sunlight.
“You are… human?”
Her voice was soft and confused as she rose a little more out of the water. She continued to press her hand to his, though her focus was on his face.
Keith didn’t know how to respond. What was he supposed to say to that? Obviously he was human! There was nothing else he could be.
But why would she ask something like that?
“I thought you’d look different,” remarked the girl. She continued to study him as though he was something fascinating. “You look just like I do, except with... Um, what are those called again? Foots?”
“Feet,” Keith corrected without thinking about it. “Hang on, what are you talking about? You’re just as human as I am!”
She shook her head, releasing his hand at long last as she moved further away once again. “Excuse me, but I am fully mer.”
The ability to speak left Keith as he witnessed her roll over and dive into the water. Where it should have been legs rising out of the water, he instead saw a dark green tail, not unlike that of a fish. He gaped at her as she resurfaced.
Mermaids were real and one was right in front of him.
- - - - -
For the first time in ten years, Keith would get to see the ocean again.
He didn’t know how to feel, except grateful to Shiro and Curtis. Originally, it was only meant to be the two of them, but after Keith found himself once again jobless, the pair took pity on him and asked him along on their vacation.
“Are you sure you don’t mind me tagging along?” Keith asked in an undertone as he helped Curtis load up the trunk.
Curtis slid his suitcase in place and then looked over at the younger man. “You know we love having you along, and I think it makes our parents worry less too. We have to be the mature, responsible ones and set a good example, after all,” he joked with a wink.
As intended, his words got an amused chuckle from Keith.
“Seriously, though, we’ve both been looking forward to you coming with us this year. You’re not intruding on our time or whatever else it is you’re worried about. Though it is a shame I can’t carry on my tradition of making out with Shiro in every room of the house, but that’s one sacrifice I’m willing to make for you.” Curtis laughed as he caught the next bag thrown his way. “Kidding! Kidding!”
“Is it too late to change my mind?” Keith asked as Shiro came around to join them.
“Definitely,” Shiro said, stepping in to press a quick kiss to Curtis’s cheek. “All ready to go?”
Keith shoved one final bag into the trunk and then moved back. “Now we are.”
Curtis stole the keys from Shiro, skipping away with a laugh as he tried to retrieve them. Keith rolled his eyes, but there was a fond smile on his face as he shut the trunk door and made sure it was properly locked.
Soon enough, the three of them were all in the car, with Curtis driving and Shiro serving as the navigator in the passenger seat, while Keith got the backseat all to himself. He had a few activities to stay busy during their five-hour drive but planned on sleeping through most of it.
“Who’s up for road trip games?” Shiro asked, too cheerful.
Keith groaned and leaned against the car door, staring out of the window and resolutely ignoring his brother. Maybe he’d just sleep the entire time to avoid whatever games Shiro had in mind.
He closed his eyes and didn’t respond when Shiro repeated his question.
“Keith, I know you’re not really asleep,” he said.
Curtis reached over and patted Shiro’s leg. “Leave him be, Takashi. Want to pick our music instead?”
There was a sigh, followed by Shiro’s subdued agreement. It took a few minutes and then classic rock began to play from the speakers, aiding Keith in his quest for a nap.
When he woke, his neck and shoulders felt stiff from the awkward position he was resting in. He groaned softly and stretched out the best he could in the cramped space, which caught Shiro’s attention.
“Welcome back, sleeping beauty. We’re about twenty minutes out,” Shiro said.
“I slept for that long?” Keith asked, leaning forward for a better look at the time. “Did you guys stop at all?”
“We made a pit stop for gas and food an hour ago, but we didn’t want to wake you. I think Shiro saved you some fries if you’re hungry,” Curtis said.
“Yay, cold fries,” Keith muttered sarcastically. He yelped as Shiro tossed a bag of fast food at his face, raising his hand just in time to block the assault. Along with the mentioned cold fries were a few leftover chicken nuggets, which he picked out first and began to eat.
He leaned back in his seat and looked out the window to get a better look at their surroundings. The land had flattened out enough that, when the trees and buildings weren’t blocking his view, he could spot the ocean, glimmering under the sun in the distance. Keith took a moment to admire it, drinking it all in. He could imagine the sea breeze blowing through his hair again, the scent of the ocean heavy in the air.
It felt like coming home.
Keith swallowed around the lump in his throat, stuffing a few fries into his mouth as a distraction.
“So, Keith, has Shiro told you much about the house?” Curtis asked.
He tore his gaze away from the window before answering. “Just that it’s on the beach and, uh, there are cliffs nearby?”
“Right next to the house, actually. We have stairs leading down to the beach because it’s too steep to get down there otherwise. And it’s a rocky beach with tide pools, so if you want to do any wading, you’ll have to walk about ten minutes along the shore to a safer place,” Curtis explained. “Or you can just use the indoor pool for swimming. My parents use it for marine studies when they’re here, so it’s full of saltwater, but as long as we’re careful about maintaining it, they don’t mind us using it.”
Keith frowned, not at the pool, but at the way Curtis described the house. He could almost picture it; a faded, once-blue house at the top of a steep hill, protected by sheer cliffs on one side and trees on the other. Well-worn wooden stairs led down to the pebble beach, which became solid, smooth rock at the water with perfect little pools where seawater accumulated. Jutting out of the water was a massive, boulder-like protrusion, perfect for basking in the sun.
He shook his head. It couldn’t be. Really, what were the odds that he already knew the place they would be staying? It was likely that Shiro had described it better than he remembered, and that was why it sounded so familiar.
Except…
Except the description wasn’t the only thing familiar.
As Keith watched the passing scenery, he began to recognize more and more. The old general store on the corner. The elementary school with the massive oak tree planted out front. Up ahead, there was a road on the left that would incline up to a residential area. There were only a few houses along the road, and at the very end would be a two-story beach house and garage, both faded blue.
They took a left.
Keith had a hard time breathing as they drove down to the end of the road. Curtis barely had time to pull into the driveway and park before Keith unbuckled his seatbelt and opened his door to jump out, stumbling slightly after sitting for so long. He stopped and stared up at the house, unresponsive until a hand landed on his shoulder.
“Keith, what’s going on?” Shiro asked, sounding concerned. “Is something wrong?”
Keith shook his head, struggling to find his voice. “I… I’m home, Shiro. This is where I grew up.”
- - - - -
Keith slowly walked through the halls, taking everything in, while Curtis and Shiro began to unpack in the kitchen and gave him time to get acquainted with his childhood home.
So much was the same. The color of the walls. The dent in the wooden floor where he once dropped his dad’s bowling ball. The one post on the staircase to the second floor that was slightly off-color from the rest.
Keith ran his hand over the banister as he walked upstairs, taking his time to take in all of the memories that were seeped into every part of the house. At the top, if he went right he would see the master bedroom where his dad once slept. To the left were a spare room, a bathroom, and the door up to the attic, which was a converted bedroom.
He turned to the left, not ready to face the memories on the right. He would, in time, but for the moment the longing to see his old room was stronger. Keith reached out and placed his hand on the doorknob, pausing for a moment to close his eyes and steady his breathing.
It twisted easily beneath his hand and he pushed open the door and was greeted by a rush of warm air. The stairs creaked under his feet and it wasn’t long before he was in the small, single-window room at the top. There was still a twin bed tucked away in the corner and a dresser along the wall across from it, eerily similar to his own set-up.
Keith crossed the room to the window, which gave him a perfect view of the ocean and the cliffside to the left of the house. He stood there for a moment, taking it all in.
How many times had he stood there and watched the waves lapping against the shore or crashing into the cliffs? His eyes were drawn to the tide pools, where the large rock still jutted up from the ocean. It had once been his favorite place, where he could go and relax away from the rest of the world. And it was there that he saw a flicker of bright green against gray.
Keith leaned forward, as though it would help him see more clearly, but no matter how hard he looked, nothing changed. He dismissed the change in color as a trick of the light and turned away from the window to walk around the room, lost in thought.
He couldn’t shake the nagging feeling that there was something he’d forgotten.
Something important.
A board shifted under his feet. Keith stopped and stooped down, moving his foot away so he could freely examine the floor. He felt around until his fingertips brushed against a raised edge and he was able to pry it free and see what was hidden beneath. A faded red journal was there, covered by a fine layer of dust, and Keith gently lifted it and brushed it off.
More pieces of memory slotted themselves into place in his mind.
His old journal, hidden away to keep something safe. He couldn’t remember why, but he knew he had a good reason for leaving it behind. Like that important thing, tickling the back of his mind.
No, not a thing. A person.
The journal opened easily, with only a few pages crinkling and sticking together, and from between two of them, a thin object slid out. Keith caught it reflexively.
Sitting in the palm of his hand was a scale, slightly smaller than the nail on his thumb and dark green. It was warm to the touch, despite being left there for so long.
All at once, Keith remembered.
There was a girl - his first friend - who he spent so many hours talking to and playing games with, but he had such a hard time recalling details about her the older he got. There was a reason for that too.
“Pidge,” he murmured, testing the name.
Keith moved back to the window, lost in thought as he stared at the scale. He set the journal down on the accent table next to the bed and then lifted his eyes to look at the shore. He stood there for a few long minutes.
And then he swore and bolted for the stairs, clutching the scale tightly as he raced down through the house and blew past Shiro and Curtis. He could hear them calling after him, but didn’t slow down. He turned a corner and took the final set of stairs in the house, which led down to the basement level where there was a large, indoor pool. From there it was out onto the deck and down even more steps until he was on the beach.
He ran until he reached the water-soaked rock, where he slowed down so he wouldn’t slip and fall. His dad’s words of caution rang in his ears, even after so long.
Keith climbed the rock and settled on top, where he sat and waited.
His mind drifted to the memory of their first meeting. He’d been so clueless. So completely unprepared for the truth. But Pidge didn’t care and stuck around to give him a chance. He suspected she was driven by her curiosity and that was why she stayed, at least at first.
He held up the scale, marveling over the way sunlight brought out faint ribbons of brighter green. Her final gift to him was all the proof he needed to know she counted him as a friend and someone she trusted. It was one of her own scales, chosen specifically for him and given with the promise that they would see each other again one day, even if it meant she had to swim out to wait for him every day.
“Keith?”
Keith hid the scale away and twisted around to face Shiro. “Hey.”
“Is everything alright? You ran out of there in a hurry,” Shiro said. “Keith, if this is too much, we can stay somewhere else for the night.”
Keith shook his head. “No, I’ll be okay. I just remembered something and wanted to see if I could find it, that’s all.”
Shiro visibly relaxed. “Did you have any luck finding it?”
“None today,” Keith said, casting one last long look over the water. It was likely that Pidge was already gone for the day if she’d been by at all. He’d have to be sure to get out there bright and early to look for her again.
He climbed down from the rock and made his way to Shiro’s side. “Sorry about making you guys worry.”
Shiro’s gaze softened and he reached out to wrap an arm around Keith’s shoulders. “As long as you’re okay, that’s all that matters. This is your vacation too and we just want you to have a good time.”
“Yeah, I know.” Keith let his brother lead him back to the house and told himself that he’d find a way to make it up to both of them. He hadn’t meant to make them worry.
Keith spent the rest of the evening with Shiro and Curtis, first helping them finish unloading the car, and then with dinner preparations. He even agreed to play a board game of Shiro’s choice, which brought a big smile to his brother’s face.
When the sun rose the next morning, Keith was already awake. He quickly dressed and went downstairs to grab a snack, bidding Curtis good morning when he found the man standing blearily over the coffee pot.
“Tell Shiro I’m going down to the beach?” Keith requested as he unwrapped a breakfast bar and tossed the plastic into the trash.
“So early?” Curtis asked, sounding confused.
“It’s the best time to look for shells,” Keith said.
While it wasn’t the reason he was going down to the shore so early, it wasn’t a lie. The morning was one of the best times to search for shells, as high tide was receding and leaving all kinds of treasures to find.
Keith stuffed his breakfast bar into his mouth and left Curtis to wait for the coffee to finish brewing on his own as he headed out onto the deck and began the slow walk down all of the stairs. He took his time so he wouldn’t choke on his food.
It wasn’t long before he was sitting back on his rock in the most comfortable position he could manage.
And there he waited.
The sun crept higher and higher in the sky, but Keith remained where he was. Around noon, Shiro came down with a plate of sandwiches and wordlessly climbed up to sit next to him. They ate lunch together, just the two of them and the sound of waves rushed against the shore.
“Curtis and I are going to make a run into town for more food. If there’s anything specific you want, I’ll pick it up for you. Unless you’d like to go with us?” Shiro asked.
Keith shook his head. “You know what I like.”
“Alright, I’m sure I can find something,” Shiro said. He hesitated for a moment, looking out at the horizon. “I can see why you like it here so much. It’s beautiful.”
“I used to come here every day. There’s something about it that’s calming,” Keith explained.
Shiro smiled and patted Keith on the shoulder before climbing down, taking the plate with him. “Text me if you need anything. We shouldn’t be gone longer than an hour.”
Keith watched his brother walk back up to the house and go inside before turning his attention to the water once more, sure that he would see her soon.
Time ticked away.
Doubt crept into Keith’s mind and he began to wonder if he’d dreamed the whole thing up. He was so sure Pidge was real, but maybe she was just a normal human girl who loved mermaids so much that he automatically associated her with them.  
He sighed as he pulled his legs up against his chest. He could stay for a while longer, at least until Shiro or Curtis made another venture to check on him. After that…
Well, it wouldn’t really hurt to keep an eye out, would it? He didn’t have to sit out under the hot sun his whole vacation, but now and then would be okay. He hadn’t been lying when he told Shiro he found it calming.
“I wish you were here, Pidge. Or that I had some clue that you’re still around. That I didn’t imagine everything,” he said to himself. He fought the urge to take the scale out of his pocket and lost, rolling it around in his palm as he continued talking to himself, his voice largely drowned out by the waves. “All I have is this. This and my memory. But what if I’m wrong about everything?”
The ocean didn’t respond.
But there was another voice that did.
“You’re not wrong, Keith. I’m here.”
He gasped, rapidly scanning the water until he found her, shyly peering up at him from around a much smaller rock a few feet away. “Pidge!”
“It’s really you! You came back!” she exclaimed, beaming at him in joy as she swam closer. She held out her hand once she reached where he was sitting and he met her halfway, pressing his palm to hers.
“I’m sorry it took me so long,” Keith apologized.
He took a moment to get a good look at her and see the differences ten years brought, knowing she was doing the same to him.
Parts of her hair were woven into more intricate braids than before. A few tiny shells joined the colorful beads, dyed a vibrant blue-violet that stood out against her brown hair. Keith had to quickly avert his gaze and focus on her face when he remembered that mermaids didn’t wear any kind of clothing or even decorations to cover themselves. Her hair was long enough to hide most of her chest when it was pulled forward, but he wasn’t about to make her uncomfortable by staring.
“You’re bigger than I remember,” Pidge remarked, seemingly mesmerized by how much larger his hand was from her own.
“So are you,” he responded, though he understood what she meant. They’d been relatively close in size when they were young if he didn’t count her extra length thanks to her tail.
Pidge hummed and lowered her hand before swimming in even closer to settle at the base of the rock in a way that prevented anyone at the house from seeing her. Keith remained where he was, in plain sight but facing the ocean so no one could see him talking. It was how their friendship went undiscovered for so long.
“There’s so much to tell you, that I don’t know where to start!” Pidge said excitedly. “Do you want to hear about my training? Oh! Or should I tell you how Matt got in trouble two movements ago? No, no, I have it! Two decaphoebs ago, Lance and Hunk found the cutest octopus for me. I named him Rover.”
Keith grinned at her enthusiasm. “Why don’t we pick one thing at a time and take turns? Like, you can tell me if you ever managed to beat your brother in a race and I’ll tell you about how I met Shiro for the first time.”
“Shiro? Who’s that?” Pidge asked, her curiosity overwhelming her desire to babble.
Keith took his turn first, glossing over his time in the orphanage and the way other kids treated him at school, moving on as quickly as he could to the kindness of the Shirogane family, in particular their eighteen-year-old son who took one look at him and pronounced him brother.
In return, Pidge spoke of the day she discovered her Inheritance, and how she struggled to keep her newfound electrical abilities in check and use them to her advantage without injuring anyone. She had to pause briefly to explain mer Inheritance to him.
“All mer have magic,” she reminded him. “But we don’t all have the same magic. I can generate electricity, just like my dad and brother, but mom’s gift is the ability to manipulate plant life. My friend Hunk can mold earth into whatever shape he wants, including solid rock. It’s incredible to watch.”
They talked for hours, going back and forth to catch each other up, but they barely made a dent in it by the time Shiro called Keith up for dinner.
“I should go,” Keith said reluctantly.
Pidge looked disappointed but nodded in acceptance. “Will you be back tomorrow? I have a few things I have to do before midsun, but I can come back.”
“I’ll be here,” Keith promised. He held out his hand so they could press them together in their personal version of a hug goodbye, and then he watched Pidge disappear beneath the waves before he climbed down from the rock and made his way to the house.
- - - - -
Keith felt like the luckiest person in the world.
Not only was he back in his childhood home, but he also had the opportunity to reunite with his best friend. It was tricky to keep her hidden from other “surface dwellers”, as Pidge liked to say, but getting to sit and talk with her was well worth it.
Naturally, Keith made it his goal to spend every possible moment with Pidge over the next few days, sometimes ignoring the growl of his stomach out of excitement. Once it’d been so loud that Pidge sent him up to retrieve food for both of them. She said it was so he wouldn’t starve, but her clear fascination over the food he returned with told him otherwise.
He knew he needed to be more careful.
He wasn’t blind to the looks he received from Shiro and Curtis whenever he made an appearance and he knew he needed to come up with a better explanation than simply: “I find the water calming.”
He trusted his brother but keeping the existence of merpeople a secret was too important to risk it.
Even if that meant lying to Shiro.
Keith tried to slow down in the mornings and spend extra time with them. It took all of his willpower to focus on what they were saying instead of daydreaming about what he and Pidge would talk about next, and he thought he was doing pretty well.
“Keith? Museum?” Curtis asked, waving his hand in front of his face. “Do you want to go with us? It’s only a thirty-minute drive.”
“No thanks. I’m just going to stay here today,” Keith said.
Curtis looked like he wanted to say something, but Shiro spoke up before he could.
“If that’s what you want to do, then we won’t stop you,” he said. “The whole point of a vacation is to relax and have fun and everyone has a different way of doing that.”
Keith smiled at his brother. “Thanks. I’m just not up for going out anywhere right now.” He hoped that would be it, but as he helped clean up after breakfast, Shiro approached him and silently began drying dishes as Keith washed them.
“You’re worried,” Keith stated after a moment.
Shiro hummed. “I will admit, I was worried when we first arrived and you told us this was the house you grew up in, but I don’t think I’ve ever seen you look this happy.”
“The strange thing is, being here doesn’t make me sad. Remembering my dad doesn’t make me sad,” Keith said. “There’s only good memories here. If anything, I feel closer to him than I did before.”
“I’m glad,” Shiro said sincerely.
There was nothing more that needed to be said as they finished cleaning up. Keith stuck around to see off Shiro and Curtis, once again turning down their offer to tag along, and the moment they were through the front door, he made a beeline for the shore, rushing more than he needed to.
He beat Pidge there, as he did every day, but he wasn’t waiting for long before she arrived and settled at the base of the rock he sat on. As always, they pressed their palms together in greeting.
“You look happy,” she remarked.
“Shiro and Curtis went to a museum for the day, so we should have the whole day to ourselves. Shiro loves museums,” Keith said.
Pidge tilted her head to one side, causing the beads in her long hair to shift. “Why didn’t you go with them? You could’ve left a message. I wouldn’t mind.”
“It’s not really for me,” Keith said with a shrug. “Shiro will literally spend hours in one area if you let him, and it gets frustrating after a while. Curtis has the patience for it, but I don’t.”
Pidge let the subject drop and instead worked on heaving herself out of the water and higher onto the rock. Keith helped her out, figuring there was no reason to worry about being spotted.
Out of the water, her scales glittered green under the sunlight, refracting green light across the rock and his dark pants. Keith found himself captivated by the color for a moment before redirecting his gaze to her face. Pidge promptly ducked her head and twisted a lock of hair around her finger as though she was embarrassed by something.
Keith cleared his throat. “Today’s our question day, right? Do you have anything you want to ask first?”
Pidge let go of her hair and nodded eagerly. “What’s a museum?”
Keith did his best to explain the function of museums, aided by a few more questions from Pidge that helped him clarify a few details that he forgot. He could tell she had more things she wanted to ask once he was done, but it was his turn.
“You said the other day that Arus is a long way from here, so how do you get here so quickly every day? Do mer swim that fast? Or do you get a ride from a whale or something?” he asked.
“That’s an easy one!” Pidge said. “I just use the teludav. The Alteans set up easy access points all over the world to make travel safer, and one of those points is nearby.”
“What’s a teludav?”
Pidge’s eyes lit up. “It’s this incredible piece of tech the Alteans invented ages ago. Okay, so there’s this terrifying creature called a Weblum that lives in the deep, deep oceans. It’s not aggressive or anything like that, and not really dangerous unless you get in its way because there’s no way of stopping it or making it change its path. Sorry, I’m getting carried away again. Anyway, the primary component that makes the teludav work is a mineral called scaultrite, which is only produced in the Weblum’s stomach. Pretty gross, right?” (Keith didn’t have a chance to agree.) “We use the scaultrite to create special lenses for amplifying and directing Altean magic, and when you put that with the other correct parts, you get a teludav!”
None of that fully answered Keith’s question, so he rephrased it to make it clear what he was really asking. Pidge laughed and told him it was a transportation portal. All she had to do was enter the one in Arus and she would exit in a nearby underwater cave, strategically chosen for the lack of divers in the area.
Pidge happily switched topics so she could take her turn.
They passed the day like that, bouncing questions off of each other and getting answers to things they were curious about. Every now and then, Keith would catch Pidge staring at him, though she was always quick to look away once she saw him looking.
He brushed it off, figuring there was something she wanted to ask and was puzzling out the best way to phrase it.
“Do mer have pets?” Keith asked curiously. He recalled that she briefly mentioned an octopus named Rover sometime before, but she never went into detail about it. “Or any kind of creature that you take care of just because you think they’re cute?”
“Actually, yeah. Loads of mer have giant seahorses or some kind of ray as a pet. My parents have a ray named Bae Bae and I’ve got Rover, but there are also these super cute nudibranchs that I found when I was exploring a shipwreck and I may have taken a few of them home with me,” Pidge said, sounding pleased with herself.
Keith wasn’t sure which part he was more curious about: Pidge’s apparent love for colorful sea slugs or the fact that there were giant seahorses. It didn’t take him too long to decide. “Exactly how big are these seahorses?”
“Kind of like this?” Pidge held out her arms to indicate a size around three feet tall. “The Nalquodians have been breeding them for ages to get them to that size. They’re pretty cool, but you have to keep a close eye on them because they like to flutter around and steal food the moment you stop looking. And I can see the look on your face. It’s my turn for a question and then I’ll tell you about Nalquod.”
“That’s fair,” Keith agreed.
“What kind of pets do surface dwellers own? And can you describe them?” Pidge asked.
“Well, there are birds, which you already know about. They come in a lot of different colors and sizes, and some people like to keep them as pets. The big two are dogs and cats.”
Trying to describe land-based creatures was harder than expected, and Keith was pretty sure he was doing an awful job. If he’d remembered to bring his phone down with him, he could’ve shown her pictures, but naturally he left it up at the house where it was safe from water damage.
Pidge took pity on him when he awkwardly tried to explain the sounds they each make, briefly pressing her finger to his lips to get him to stop talking.
“Nalquod is one of the five major mer cities. You already know about Altea and Daibazaal,” she said. “The others are Rygnirath and the Dalterion Belt. There are so many different kinds of mer all around the world, but they are the oldest of us, and have the most influence.”
“And their tails are different from yours,” Keith said, remembering something she mentioned the day before.
Pidge beamed. “That’s right! That’s one of the biggest differences between the five clans, aside from the places where each one lives. Alteans have scales just like I do, but the Galra have a thick, rough skin that covers their tails, sort of like sharks.”
The more he learned about her world, the more he wished he could see it for himself.
Keith couldn’t think like that. It would only leave him feeling disappointed. “I know it’s your turn to ask a question, but do you want me to tell you the story about the first time I met Curtis?”
“That’s the name of your brother’s boyfriend, right? I’d love to hear more about him,” Pidge said, leaning in close.
Keith shifted a little to get more comfortable and then told her all about his first meeting with Curtis, and how, in a fit of purely accidental clumsiness, he dropped an entire plate of spaghetti on his lap. He thought Shiro would never forgive him.
His story spawned a new line of questions into one another’s lives.
Pidge shared a delightful story about Matt introducing his girlfriend to their family for the first time, and how Rover spent the entire time camouflaging himself in different spots to try and scare her. (Luckily, she thought he was hilarious.)
Keith struggled to figure out a way to explain driving a car to her so that he could tell her the tale of Shiro’s driving lessons, and the time he was so sure they were about to get arrested for driving around in circles in a parking lot.
After a few hours, Pidge called it an early day and then took another fifteen minutes to explain her newest project before actually leaving. Keith watched her disappear with a fond smile on his face and then headed up to the house.
With his newfound free time, he began dinner preparations as a surprise for Shiro and Curtis. Keith hummed a wordless tune as he worked, setting out everything he needed for the main dish. None of the sides would take long and could go in once the others returned, and Keith knew from experience that it was best if he focused on one thing at a time.
Shiro and Curtis were delighted to return to the scent of food. They told him all about their trip to the museum as they ate, and Keith found himself wondering if any of it was something Pidge would be interested in. From there, his mind wandered to what they could do the next day.
Maybe he could take some paper down and they could try and draw things for one another? She was likely to make fun of his stick figure drawings, but it would be worth it to see her excitement over new surface items.
Keith spent most of his evening lost in thoughts, completely oblivious to the concerned looks he got from Shiro and Curtis.
He slept well that night, and after breakfast the next morning, he took his time gathering up a few sheets of paper and a handful of crayons he found stashed away in the floorboards of his old room. He took them all down to the beach and passed time by doing some practice drawings and trying to make improvements.
The morning stretched on and transitioned into noon, which was when Keith started to worry. He set aside his art supplies to keep a careful eye on the water around him. He mentally reviewed their last conversation, trying to remember if she said anything about needing to postpone their meet-up, but she agreed to the same time as always.
He was sure she was fine.
Pidge was just running a little late. Soon, she would show up with some wild story to tell him and they’d spend another day laughing and hanging out. He was sure of it.
She never arrived.
Keith spent the entire day waiting for her, only giving up once heavy clouds rolled in and covered the sun. He was extra cautious as he made his way across the slick rocks, but he still slipped once when the wind knocked him off balance. He recovered before he could fall and was soon safe inside the house.
“There’s a storm coming in,” Shiro said as Keith reached the top of the basement stairs. “Curtis is checking to see how bad it is. We may need to… Are you alright?”
Keith didn’t trust himself to speak and nodded instead. He hoped it was just a passing storm rather than anything big, though either way he was wasn’t going to sleep well.
Curtis returned with news that they didn’t have to worry, but he set them to find flashlights and candles just in case the power went out.
Once the emergency supplies were collected, the three of them gathered in the living room to eat their dinner of leftovers and listen to the local weather report. Shiro tried to lighten the atmosphere when they learned they were in for a windy night and wouldn’t have to worry about rain until some time the next day, but stopped when it became clear that nothing could lift Keith’s mood.
Keith couldn’t even find the energy to feel guilty about worrying Shiro. He was too busy wondering what happened to Pidge. Had she gotten wrapped up in a project and lost track of time? Did her family make her stay home to keep her safe from the storm? Or was it something worse?
He dismissed himself for an early bedtime, hoping he could manage a few hours of sleep, but between the howling wind and his overactive imagination, he spent most of the night tossing and turning. Keith got a few solid hours in the early hours of the morning and counted that as a win, even though it wasn’t nearly enough rest.
The news station gave a similar storm report as the night before; the wind was still blowing and the heavy rain would begin sometime around midmorning. Keith decided it was the most opportune moment he had to sneak down to the shore and check for Pidge one last time.
Keith dragged himself downstairs to wait for sunrise, and the moment there was enough light to properly see, he went outside. From the upper balcony, he could see a splash of bright green against the gray rock.
He was sure he made a sound, but it was drowned out by the pounding of his heart as it lodged itself in his throat. He flew down the stairs and raced across the beach to where she lay.
“Pidge!” Keith gasped as he rushed to her side. He carefully turned her over, searching for any obvious injuries, but didn’t find anything.
She groaned as she began to stir. “Keith?”
“I’m here, Pidge,” he quickly reassured her. His worry intensified as she mumbled sleepily and passed out again.
Keith took a moment to weigh his options, though really it wasn’t a hard choice to make. He couldn’t leave her there with the weather turning so rough, especially when it looked like she’d already hurt herself trying to swim through it. He’d have to take her to the house. Once she woke up and the storm passed, he’d be able to talk to her and figure out what they were going to do next, but for the time being he had to decide on his own.
“Okay, I can do this,” he said to himself, stooping down so he could get a good grip on her. He slid one arm around her back and the other under her tale, pausing to take a deep breath and brace himself for her weight, and then he lifted her up as he stood, grunting from the effort.
Pidge whined softly and Keith quickly soothed her.
“It’s alright. I’ve got you, Pidge. I promise, I won’t let anything happen to you.” He kept talking to her as he carried her across the beach and then slowly started up the stairs. The wind buffeted against him, whipping his hair into his eyes, and rapidly drying Pidge’s shorn locks.
He needed to hurry before her tail dried out too much. He wasn’t sure what would happen if it did, but he was willing to bet it wouldn’t be comfortable for Pidge. The sooner he could get her into the pool, the better.
“Almost there,” he said as he reached the bottom deck.
There was only one more obstacle he had to face, and that was getting the door open. Which was not going to be an easy task with an armful of an unconscious mermaid.
To make matters worse, he heard the door on the upper deck fly open and footsteps rapidly making their way across the floor.
“Keith!” Shiro shouted, sounding panicked.
Keith groaned softly and rolled his eyes. Did Shiro really think he was so irresponsible that he would go down there when there was a storm blowing in? (He resolutely ignored the tiny voice reminding him that was exactly what he did - it was an emergency situation! He had to go down there!)
It was far from an ideal situation all around, but Keith was adaptable. First he’d reassure Shiro so he wouldn’t go into full-blown panic, and then he’d get the door open. Easy.
Praying that Pidge would forgive him for what he was about to do, Keith cleared his throat and said: “I’m down here, Shiro!”
Keith braced himself for the round of questions that were sure to be heading his way, but when Shiro reached the lower deck, the surprised Keith with only one: “What happened to her?”
“I don’t know,” Keith responded. “I found her like this and I couldn’t leave her down there. Not with the storm coming in. Could you open the door?”
Shiro nodded, striding quickly to the door and opening it to allow Keith through. He said nothing else and stood back as Keith walked down into the pool, not caring at all that his clothes were getting even more soaked. He gently eased Pidge into the water until she rested on the bottom and then backed away, keeping his eyes on her to make sure she was still okay, and then sat down on the top step.
Part of him wasn’t the least bit surprised when Shiro rolled up his pants leg and joined him at the poolside, struggling to compose himself as he took in everything he was seeing.
“So, uh, surprise, I guess,” Keith muttered, breaking the silence and startling a laugh from Shiro.
“I can’t believe this is what you’ve been hiding from us. Not that I blame you for keeping it a secret; I’m not sure I would have believed you if you had told us. It just seems so surreal…” Shiro said, keeping his voice down. “Does she have a name?”
Keith nodded. “It’s Pidge. Well, that’s what I’ve always called her. She didn’t want to give me her real name when we first met, so I had to come up with a nickname. There was this pigeon nearby that she was really interested in, so I sort of named her after it. Don’t laugh! I was eight!”
Shiro covered his mouth with his hand, gray eyes glittering with amusement. “You named her after a bird?”
“Shut up,” Keith said with very little bite to his voice. “You’re being really cool about this. I was expecting more questions. More… I don’t know.”
“Honestly? I think I’m still trying to process it all. Mermaids - merpeople?” He glanced at Keith for confirmation. “Merpeople are real. They’re not just a myth or a story, they actually exist. There’s so much I want to ask, but all I can think about is what else is real that most people think is fake?”
“I know magic is real too,” Keith said with a shrug. “Pidge told me that all mer have some form of magic and it sounds like it’s usually elemental. So I guess it’s not magic spells like most humans would think. And… and there whole underwater cities where mer live that are protected by magic and their own form of technology. She says that’s why we’ve never found them. And all of their cities are connected by something called the teludav? Which I think is some kind of portal they use to teleport.” He stopped for a moment, hoping he was relaying things correctly.
It felt so good to share it all with Shiro. He hated keeping secrets from his brother, but there was no longer a need to do so.
He glanced at Pidge and hoped he wasn’t breaking an important rule by being the one to tell Shiro about the mer. There had to be rules against it, right? To prevent everyone from finding out about them? But they could trust Shiro, and Curtis as well.
“Whole cities,” Shiro breathed in amazement. “Like Atlantis?”
Keith remembered asking that very same question as a child, just as he recalled the way Pidge crinkled up her nose as she corrected him. “Actually, that’s just a mistranslation. It’s called Altea, not Atlantis, and I wouldn’t say it around Pidge. I did that recently, more to tease her than anything, and she went on this whole long rant about the history of humans mistranslating various mer-languages and it’s not as interesting as you might think.”
“I’m guessing that’s where she’s from?”
Keith shook his head. “She’s from a small city called Arus. It’s on the border of Altea and Daibazaal - those are kingdoms, not cities - and she said something about it being divided between the two of them? I don’t really know how to explain it, except it belongs to both kingdoms. Pidge would explain it better.”
Shiro asked a few more general questions after that. How did they meet? How did she stay hidden for so long? Why didn’t Keith try to come back sooner?
“I… don’t know.” Keith furrowed his brow in thought. “It was like something was blocking my memory, right up until I found my old journal and the scale… Her scale. There must have been some kind of magic to it that was meant to help me remember, but I was afraid someone else would find it and take it from me, so I hid it in the safest place I knew. I never thought… Shiro, if you and Curtis hadn’t invited me this year… If Curtis’s parents never bought this house…”
He never would have been able to keep his promise.
“Maybe Fate wanted the two of you to meet again,” Shiro suggested. “Speaking of Curtis, I should get upstairs before he comes looking. It might be best if I tell him what’s going on instead of letting him find out on his own. If that’s alright.”
“Yeah,” Keith agreed, not hesitating for a second.
Shiro stood up and began to head for the stairs. “I’ll bring you down a change of clothes. You can’t be comfortable like that.”
Keith plucked at his sleeve. “It’s not so bad.”
“Uh-huh,” Shiro said in a tone that conveyed his disbelief. He didn’t say another word, leaving Keith alone with his unconscious friend.
Keith sat and waited, listening to the sound of the wind howling outside and the thunder booming in the distance. He hoped it wouldn’t be a bad one. They had a backup generator if they lost power, but he wasn’t sure if the pool was a high-priority in terms of things that needed to stay running.
He could hear Shiro and Curtis talking upstairs, a moment of silence, and then the sound of Curtis undeniably freaking out over there being a real-life mer in the basement pool.
Keith tuned them out. Shiro could handle that on his own and he was much more interesting watching Pidge as she began to come to. Her tail swayed, slowly at first, and then with one powerful flick, she rocketed to the surface to look around wildly, settling once she saw him sitting nearby.
“There’s a storm, so I brought you inside,” Keith quickly told her. “I can take you back once it passes, but it’s too dangerous right now.”
Pidge nodded and then began to look around, taking a moment to examine her new surroundings with a puzzled expression on her face. “What is this?”
“It’s a pool. We use them for swimming, or most people do. Curtis and his family turned it into a tank so they can look after fish,” Keith said, going with the simplest answer he could. “How do you feel?”
Pidge lifted her hand up and watched as the water trickled down her arm. “It’s very strange.”
“I guess it is different than seawater, but that’s not… Pidge, what happened to you?” Keith asked.
She lowered her hand and dove deeper into the pool, making a few laps before popping up next to Keith. She carefully draped her tail over the steps, using them as a bench as she settled with her back against the edge. She reached up, touching the ends of her hair with a frown. “It’s complicated and I don’t want to talk about it right now. I’m okay. I promise.”
Keith wanted so badly to press and hear what happened. She obviously wasn’t okay. How could she be after literally passing out in his arms? People who were okay didn’t do that!
“I know you have questions, but I can’t talk about it right now. I will later, but not now.” Pidge’s words turned pleading as she finally looked up at him.
Keith breathed out to release the tension he felt. “Fine.”
“Thank you, Keith,” Pidge said, and the relief in her voice made his heart ache. “How did you get me up here? It always looked so far away.”
He explained how he carried her away from the shore and up the stairs, where he had to get Shiro’s help to get inside. When she didn’t react poorly to knowing Shiro knew about her, he filled her in on the conversation they had.
“Ugh, Altantis,” Pidge grumbled, rolling her eyes.
“Don’t worry, I told him not to mention it around you. Hopefully, he’ll pass the warning along to Curtis,” Keith said.
Pidge tilted her head to the side. “Do I get to meet them? There’s no harm in it now since they both know.”
“Only if you’re up for it,” Keith told her. “They’ll have a lot of questions. I don’t think I did a good job explaining Arus to Shiro.”
“You did fine, but I’ll be happy to answer whatever questions they have, as long as I get to ask them stuff too. I want at least three embarrassing stories about you in exchange,” Pidge said teasingly.
“What? No way!”
Pidge laughed merrily and Keith couldn’t help but crack a grin as he tried to talk her down to one story, and only if she shared one of her own.
She pretended to think about it and then shook her head. “No deal. I will, however, give you one about Matt.”
“How is that fair?” Keith asked.
Pidge shrugged. “That’s my offer.”
Keith narrowed his eyes. “I don’t think I want to introduce you anymore.”
“Too late!” Shiro called down the stairs.
Keith groaned good-naturedly and prepared for a day of stories that he’d rather not re-live. He’d have to work in some of his own about Shiro, as few as they were, and hopefully, Curtis would take pity on him and keep Shiro from telling too many.
- - - - -
The storm passed without causing any trouble for them, and by the next morning, the waves were calm enough that Keith felt comfortable carrying Pidge back down. There was only one roadblock with that, and it was Pidge herself.
“You don’t want to go back?” Keith asked with a frown.
“I like it here.”
Keith opened his mouth to ask why she didn’t want to go back, but Shiro cut in before he could get out more than a syllable.
“You’re welcome to stay as long as you’d like. We enjoy having you here,” he said sincerely.
Pidge beamed, and that was the end of that conversation.
Keith did his best to shrug off his unease. He knew he needed to wait until Pidge was ready to talk, and every time he thought his patience was beginning to wane, he remembered the relief in her voice when he gave that promise, but it wasn’t easy. The more time that went by without her bringing it up on her own, the more he worried.
What happened to make her so disinterested in going home? She always spoke so fondly of her friends and family, of the work she was doing, how could she be okay with sitting in a pool all day with only a few humans for company? He was hesitant to call it fear that was holding her back, but what if that was exactly what it was? But what did Pidge have to be afraid of? Was it because of him? Because of their friendship? Was she breaking a law by meeting up with him again?
He wouldn’t get any answers so long as she refused to talk about it.
After two days of stressing over it, Keith left her to her conversation with Curtis about the varieties of sea slug and made the trek down to his favorite spot to relax on the beach.
Keith closed his eyes and let the sound and feel of the ocean surround him, casting away everything else. He steadied his breathing and relaxed.
He loved having Pidge around. Loved getting to talk to her whenever he wanted, sometimes late into the night. They were able to swap so many stories or just sit in comfortable silence together. And the smile on her face when he would bring her a piece of human technology to examine left him feeling warm for hours afterward.
He just wished it was happening under better circumstances.
Keith sighed and opened his eyes, only to scream and flail backward at the sight of a freckled face directly in front of his own. The other person grabbed onto his shirt to prevent him from pitching back into the water and hauled him back upright.
“Who are you?” Keith asked, swatting the hand away once he regained his balance.
“Where’s Katie?”
Keith stared blankly at the other man. “What?”
What was happening? Who was the crazy person intruding in his space?
“Okay, I know firsthand that humans are not this dumb. Did you hit your head or something?” asked the man. “Oh no, wait, she did say something about a nickname. What was it again? Something like pigeon?”
“Pidge?” Keith asked, bewildered.
“That’s the one! You are Keith, right? She should have mentioned the mullet. Looks ridiculous, by the way.”
“No one asked you!” Keith snapped, already fed up. “Who the hell are you anyway?”
“The name’s Lance! And since we’ve established that you’re Keith, you are going to take me to Katie now. You’ve gotta know where she is. There’s no other place she would’ve gone,” he said.
Lance.
Keith knew that name from Pidge’s stories. He was one of her friends - the loudmouth one with a blue tail. Except Keith didn’t see a single scale or a tail. There was nothing about him to indicate that he was a mer and he definitely remembered Pidge saying that he was. But there he was with two human legs.
He was also very, very naked.
“I’m not taking you to anyone until you put on pants,” Keith told him, already feeling a headache coming on.
“Right, let me pull out a pair from thin air,” Lance said sarcastically. “Obviously I don’t have any. I was in a rush. Just give me your shirt or something and I’ll figure it out.”
Keith was not going to do that. How would that help anything?! If anything, it would make the situation worse.
He stripped out of his pants instead and thrust them in Lance’s direction. He could go around in boxers for a while, but he wasn’t letting Pidge’s crazy friend go without wearing something. “Here, just put these on and I’ll take you to see her. I’m warning you, if you’re lying about knowing her, you will regret it.”
“Fair enough,” Lance said with a shrug. He took the pants and put them on, making a face at how short the legs were on him. He didn’t comment on it, which was lucky for him because Keith was prepared to shove him off of the rock if he did, screw the consequences.
Keith very reluctantly took Lance up to the basement, planning out what he’d do if he was lying or, even worse, that he was the reason Pidge didn’t want to go home.
When he opened the door, he found Pidge and Curtis right where he left them, though Shiro had also joined the conversation. They all looked up and Shiro raised an eyebrow when he saw that Keith had stripped down to his boxers, but all of Pidge’s attention was on Lance.
And she was smiling.
Lance tripped over his own feet as he hurried forward, his hands working to unbutton the pants and shove them down his skinny legs. He kicked them off before diving headfirst into the pool.
Bubbles covered his body as he swam to meet Pidge halfway, and when it cleared away, his legs had been replaced by a magnificent blue tail. It was scaled like hers was, but his fins were shaped more like a fan, and he had a few more than she did, positioned closer to his hips on either side. His freckles turned blue and lit up faintly across his skin. They were mimicked in his tail as well, with swirls of spots glowing a shade brighter than his scales.
He and Pidge met in a hug, catching each other in a way that made them spin together. A tightness built up in Keith’s chest at the sight of their closeness, dissipating only once the two separated. They spent a minute talking underwater before Pidge gestured to the surface.
“Is anyone going to explain what’s going on?” Keith asked, crossing his arms over his chest. “How did you do that? You had legs two minutes ago.”
“I did. Thanks for lending me your pants, by the way,” Lance said blithely.
“Lance is half mer.” Pidge took it upon herself to explain what was happening. “Because he’s half-human, he has the ability to shift forms whenever he wants, kind of like Alteans.”
“Altean? Is that like Atlantian?” Curtis asked.
Keith snorted as both Pidge and Lance answered with the most deadpan “no” he’d heard yet.
“I’m sure Katie would love to explain everything that’s wrong with that mistranslation, but she can do it later. Basically, Alteans are one of five major mer clans and are regarded as one of the oldest. They have the unique ability to shapeshift, and not just between mer and human, but to blend in with the locals, wherever they travel. See they used to-”
“Lance, we don’t have time for a full history lesson,” Pidge interrupted. “Nice to know you’re taking your training as a future adviser seriously. Coran would be proud.”
Lance looked delighted by the praise. “Think you can tell that to him? He’s convinced that I’m too distracted by, uh, other things.”
“Not a chance.”
“Rude.”
Pidge stuck out her tongue and blew, making a face when it didn’t generate the same effect as it would underwater.
“So you can shapeshift, Lance?” Shiro asked, trying to get them back on topic.
“Just between mer and human,” Lance said. “It’s not nearly as cool as what Alteans can do and is leagues lamer than what Royal Alteans are capable of. They have magic that lets a human turn mer or a mer turn human, but the effects are permanent. That’s how my mom went to live on the surface with my dad.” He paused as he took a good long look at Pidge. “But Katie’s right when she says we don’t have time for this. I’m not here for a social visit, I’m here to bring her home.”
Pidge turned away from him and crossed her arms over her chest. “I don’t want to talk about this right now.”
Lance swam around her and grasped her shoulders, preventing her from moving again. “If I let you, you’ll never talk about this. Listen, you went missing for two days and your family is worried sick! If Lotor hadn’t gone to your house to look for you and apologize, we never would have known what happened!”
An emotion Keith couldn’t read flickered over Pidge’s face.
“Katie, what those guards did, it wasn’t right. Lotor was mad about-” (Lance cut himself off and his gaze briefly landed on Keith before he refocused on Pidge.) “- stuff, but he wasn’t going to banish you for it. He wants you to know that they’ve been punished and will be sent back to Daibazaal for final judgment from his father. He says he’s sorry for the way he overreacted.”
“He really said that?” Pidge asked, sounding surprised.
“Yeah, once your mom was done yelling at him for it. I am so glad I was there to witness that,” Lance said. “So what do you say? Ready to come home?”
Pidge hesitated, drawing back into herself as she considered her options. Then she shook her head. “Not yet.”
A spike of relief flooded Keith’s body, followed by guilt for feeling that way. He didn’t have to say goodbye yet, but it was because Pidge still didn’t feel comfortable going home.
Lance’s shoulders dropped at her response. “Alright, if you’re sure. I can take messages back to everyone for now.”
Shiro caught Keith’s eyes and gestured towards the stairs. Keith stared at him for a moment, unsure of what he wanted, until it suddenly clicked in his mind that he was suggesting they give them some space. He nodded and slowly moved away, walking upstairs with him and Curtis and settling in the kitchen, where they began to quietly talk.
Or Shiro and Curtis did.
Keith was too busy trying to piece together what happened to Pidge from the limited details Lance gave them, but all he really had was even more questions.
Who was Lotor? The name was unfamiliar to him, but clearly, he meant something to Pidge. Why had she never mentioned him? All of the other names were familiar to him. Coran was an adviser to Altean royalty - an eccentric source of knowledge and always ready with some kind of story or odd phrase. Lance, of course, was one of her best friends, and probably why she knew more about humans than he expected. Her family, of course, was her mom, dad, and her older brother, Matt.
He’d never heard of Lotor before.
Keith scowled.
“Alright, Keith?” Shiro asked as he changed seats to sit next to him.
He wanted to say that he was fine and not talk about it, but stopped and thought about it before the words slipped out. If he did that, then he’d be doing to Shiro the same thing Pidge was doing to him.
Keith folded his arms over the table and laid his head down. “I just wish she’d talk to me, you know? There’s so much she’s keeping bottled up and hidden from everyone, even Lance. I want to help her, but I don’t know how.”
He looked helplessly at Shiro, hoping his brother had a good piece of advice to give him. He usually did.
“I think the best thing you can do is be there for her. Let her come to you in her own time, just like you’ve been doing,” Shiro said. “You can’t force this.”
Keith should have known that’s what he’d say. Normally, it wouldn’t be so bad, but he didn’t have time to wait patiently. They were already halfway through their vacation and it wouldn’t be long before people started to wonder when they’d return.
He turned his head so he was staring straight down at the table. “Patience yields focus, right?”
Shiro chuckled.
Someone knocked on the wall near the stairs and then Lance stuck his head around the corner. “Hey, just wanted to say I’m headed out. I’ll be back tomorrow if I can get away. If not, then as soon as I can. Oh yeah, and I’m going to keep your pants down on the beach if you don’t mind. I figure that will be less traumatizing to you.”
That was fine.
Shiro raised an eyebrow as Lance left without another word. “He’s… interesting. You’re really okay with giving him your pants?”
“Would you rather he walked around naked?” Keith asked.
Shiro swiftly replied with a negative.
Keith continued to sit with his head and arms on the table, mulling things over as Curtis came down after his phone call with his parents and got started on lunch for all of them. Soon, the smell of baking fish filled the air and his stomach began to rumble in response, distracting him from working out a plan. He turned his head to watch his brother quietly flirt with Curtis.
Before long, the food was finished and Keith was being handed two plates, one of which was unseasoned for Pidge. Keith thanked him and then made the trip downstairs, where he found Pidge making quick laps around the pool, her tail rippling in color from dark emerald to luminous yellow-green.
Keith took up his usual place on the pool steps, letting his feet rest in the water. He set Pidge’s plate off to one side for her to eat once she was ready and then dug into his own, using his fork to cut off individual bites.
Pidge quietly surfaced near him, carefully lifting the plate so she could examine the fish prepared for her, checking it over for any spices or unusual coloring. They’d quickly learned after the first time that while mer did have ways of cooking their food with heat vents, their methods of flavoring food was vastly different if they were able to add any at all. The herbs and spices they used on the surface were too much for her to handle, and from that point on they made a point to cook hers without.
She picked up her fork and speared a small piece, nibbling on it to check the taste. When she found it was cooked to her satisfaction, she began cutting off larger pieces.
“So Lance is interesting,” Keith unintentionally echoed Shiro’s earlier words. “You never mentioned he was half-human.”
“It never came up,” Pidge responded with a short shrug. She scraped her fork along her plate, trying to pick up every last little piece. “Lance has lived in Arus for so long, I don’t really think about it anymore.”
“Do you want more food?” Keith asked.
Pidge shook her head and set her plate and fork down. “I’m full.”
Silence once again fell over them as Keith finished eating. He was sure at any moment she’d choose to go back underwater, but to his surprise, she stayed right where she was.
Keith sat on the edge with his plate resting in his lap, trying to decide the best way to begin. He had to get something off of his chest before more time passed.
“Pidge, I know I said before that I would wait until you’re ready to talk, and I meant it. I’m not going to pressure you into it. And I know that me saying this makes it sound insincere and I probably should have phrased it better, but I’m here for you whenever you’re ready to talk. It doesn’t have to be all at once. You can do it in pieces if that makes it easier, but it’s all up to you.”
“Keith…”
He looked over at her. “All I want is to help you, in whatever way I can.”
Pidge reached out and took his plate away, putting it on top of her own before taking his hands in her own. “You deserve to know, and I want to tell you, but…”
“You’re not ready.”
Pidge looked at their hands and was silent for a long moment. “Lotor is the prince of Daibazaal. He came to Arus five years ago as part of his training, and we sort of… hit it off, I guess.” She crinkled her nose in thought. “He recognized my skill in mer-tech and gave me resources and a place in Sincline Castle to continue my work. In repayment, he gets the first look at my projects and a safe haven from his more persistent suitors. I know you probably think the worst of him after what Lance said, but he’s not like that. It’s complicated, I guess.”
“He lost his temper with you, Pidge, and it was bad enough that someone thought he was ordering your banishment. It’s not that complicated,” Keith said, a little more waspishly than he intended.
Pidge didn’t flinch away or scowl or otherwise indicate that she was bothered by Keith’s words. Instead, she stroked her thumb over the back of his hand. “Lotor has every reason to be upset with me. I couldn’t bring myself to tell him where I was going, because I know how he feels about humans. I should have told him. He should have heard it from me and not someone else.”
“That’s no excuse.”
“I know,” Pidge said, smiling sadly as she finally looked up at him. “Lotor lost his temper, and for that, I expect an apology, but I owe him one for not being truthful. He’s my friend and I lied to him. It put him in a difficult position, especially considering the way many mer view our relationship.”
Something ice-cold dropped into Keith’s chest at the implication that anything was going on between Pidge and some tantrum-throwing prince. He quickly reminded himself that she said they were only friends, but the feeling lingered uncomfortably for the rest of the night, intruding on his sleep and making him wake in a cold sweat. The image of Pidge being held by a faceless mer haunted him every time he closed his eyes.
When morning came, he was right there with Curtis, waiting for the coffee pot to complete its brewing cycle.
Curtis raised an eyebrow. “Rough night?”
“Couldn’t sleep,” Keith muttered as he dumped large spoonfuls of sugar into his cup to try and cover up the bitterness of the coffee. He took a sip, made a face, and added another spoonful before fetching the milk from the fridge and adding that as well.
“Want to talk about it?” Curtis asked curiously.
Keith shrugged, setting his cup down on the table before dropping into an empty chair. “Dunno.”
He honestly wasn’t sure that there was any point in talking about it. He couldn’t say anything without betraying Pidge’s trust and while he liked Curtis, it wasn’t the same as talking to Shiro. Unfortunately, Shiro was using their vacation as an excuse to stay in bed for as long as possible every day and Keith wasn’t going to intrude on that.
Maybe he could phrase things in a way that wouldn’t betray Pidge’s confidence.
“Pidge was telling me more about her home and said something about everyone else thinking she and another mer are in a relationship, and it bothers me, I guess. It has to suck, being friends with someone and facing the expectation of there being more between you when there isn’t,” Keith said.
Curtis was silent for a moment as he sipped his black coffee. “Which part bothers you? The thought of Pidge being with this person? Or is it sympathy toward Pidge for being put into that situation?”
The image of Pidge and the faceless mer flashed through his mind.
Keith swallowed. “The first one. Though, I mean, the second part too. I don’t know, Curtis. The whole thing sucks.”
Curtis smiled at him. “You must really like her. Shiro and I had our suspicions, but we didn’t want to say anything. And we still won’t, because this is your journey, Keith. This is something you have to figure out on your own.”
He liked Pidge.
Well, obviously he liked Pidge! She was his friend and always had been, even if he’d forgotten for a while.
But that wasn’t what Curtis was saying, and Keith wasn’t sure he was comfortable with the direction his mind was taking him. To think of Pidge in a way that went beyond friendship…
Heat rushed to his cheeks as his mind played out a scene replacing him with the faceless mer, holding Pidge lovingly in his arms. It was ridiculous and he felt guilty thinking of her that way, but he couldn’t help himself. Once the thought was there, it only blossomed and grew stronger, and all at once, Keith fully understood why the thought of Pidge being with Lotor bothered him so much.
“I like Pidge,” Keith said softly.
Shiro was never going to let him live it down. Not after the way Keith teased him about his crushes in the past.
“If you want a little extra advice: take your time with this. You don’t need to go rushing in,” Curtis said.
Keith nodded, though he wasn’t really listening anymore. He thanked Curtis for his help and continued to sit at the table and drink his coffee, finishing up just as Shiro shuffled into the kitchen in his pajamas.
Shiro looked pointedly at Keith’s cup. “Rough night?”
“Curtis will tell you about it,” Keith said, standing up to put his cup in the dishwasher. He ignored the overly dramatic way Curtis swooned as he declared “Keith’s in love”, and instead walked right by him without a word.
The last thing Keith heard as he started down the stairs was Shiro asking: “What’s really going on?”
He took his time, still trying to decide the best way to talk to Pidge.
It was no secret that he wasn’t the best at vocalizing his feelings, and that was especially true when he was still trying to figure them out for himself. He knew that there were some jealousy issues to work out and Shiro always said that the best way to counter potential misunderstandings was by talking it out, so that was what he was going to do.
Even if he had no idea how to do that.
Maybe he should wait until he had proper time to digest, but it was a little late for that, as he reached the bottom of the stairs and automatically gravitated toward the pool. He smiled at Pidge as she popped her head out of the water, waiting patiently for him to sit down before she swam forward and held out her hand. He reached out to meet her halfway, letting their fingertips touch first before pressing their palms together.
‘I really like her.’
Pidge looked up at him curiously. “Are you alright?”
His eyes flickered to her face. “I, uh… I was thinking…”
Thinking what? He wasn’t sure that there was a single solid thought running through his head between the cacophony of sirens ringing in his ears. His mind was a mess. He was overthinking everything. Underthinking everything. Staying upstairs to face Shiro’s teasing would be far better than the meltdown he was currently experiencing.
“We’ve never hugged,” he blurted out.
“Well, no, but that’s because you always said it was too dangerous for you to go into the water. That’s why we do our own thing, remember?” Pidge sounded confused.
He was already screwing things up. His cheeks burned as she looked away from her and he knew he needed to stop talking, but more words spilled out anyway. “Sorry, I’m being stupid. You’re right. We have our own thing.”
Pidge responded by threading her fingers through his own. “It should be safe enough for you in here, so why don’t we try?” She tugged gently, enticing him to follow her deeper into the pool, and smiled softly when he went along with her without complaint. She stopped once they reached the deep end, where she let go of her hand and turned around to face him. “Hold your breath.”
Keith followed her directions just in time, as she looped her arms around his neck and her tail around his legs at the same time. He instinctively placed his hands where her skin blended into scales, his mind barely having time to process how closely she was pressed against him before they sank underwater.
He didn’t panic, even as his heart began to race. Part of his mind noted that the way she hugged him was entirely different from the way she hugged Lance the day before, but that information wouldn’t hit him until later, once he had time to revisit the new memory. He could feel her sigh against him as she tucked her head into the crook of his neck.
Disappointment washed over him when she moved a few seconds later, lifting herself up so they were face-to-face, but that feeling didn’t last for long.
Pidge lightly brushed her lips against his and his brain short-circuited.
Keith exhaled in shock, blowing bubbles directly into Pidge’s face. She began laughing and unwound her tail, helping him back to the surface so he could catch his breath. He was sure his face was bright red as he voiced his apologies.
“It’s really not a big deal,” Pidge said, unable to keep herself from grinning. There was a pink hue spreading across her face - a blush, perhaps? (Did mer blush like humans?) “I, uh, I’m sorry too. I should have warned you or asked permission or something. It seemed like the perfect moment, but all I’ve done is made a mess instead.”
“You haven’t,” Keith was quick to reassure her. “I was surprised that time, but we can try again.”
They should probably talk about what was happening. Keith knew that. Pidge likely knew that as well, but both of them were too elated by what was happening, the thrill of their friendship possibly shifting into something more overriding any logical thought.
Keith held his breath again as Pidge pulled him back underwater.
- - - - -
Later, once Keith’s head began to swim from repeated lack of oxygen, the two finally settled down to talk. They retreated to the steps, where Keith remained submerged in the water so Pidge could recline against him.
“I really like you,” he told her.
“That’s good,” Pidge said. “Because I like you too. A lot.”
After that, it was as though a wall toppled down between them. Pidge took the lead at first, delving into the joy she felt at seeing him again, the way she nearly spilled everything to him the day she caught herself admiring the way the sunlight brought out a shade of violet in his hair, and her fear as she began to wonder if her feelings were born of a ten-year wait to see him again.
“Do you still think that?” Keith asked.
“Not anymore. Actually, Matt caught me moping about it and we talked, so that helped me a bit. It was right before Lotor…” Pidge trailed off and shook her head. “It was the night before Lotor found out that I was seeing you, which made everything worse, I think. Here I was, worrying about my feelings for you, and suddenly I have an even bigger mess to figure out, but before I have a chance to do anything, those guards get it in their heads that I deserve banishment or whatever!” She stopped to breathe, electricity crackling harmlessly over her scales. It tingled against Keith’s skin where they touched.
“Is that what happened to your hair?” he asked.
Pidge lifted her hand to touch the ends of it. “Yeah, that’s a typical method of punishment for the Galra. The loss of braids, and especially adornments, is a big deal to them. It was upsetting at first, but I can grow it back. Mostly, I was just afraid. Coming to you was the only thing that made sense.”
Her show of trust made his head swell, just as much as the sadness in her eyes made it clench in pain. He wanted to say something comforting, but everything he could think of sounded so hollow.
“I’m sorry you had to go through all of that,” he said.
Pidge gave him a soft smile. “I do wish it all went differently, but it gave us all of this extra time to spend together, so I feel oddly… thankful?”
Ten years ago, he would have argued with her on that point. Five years ago, he would have started a fight about it, not intentionally, but out of misplaced anger. Luckily, living with Shiro as his brother for eight years had helped quell that fire that raged inside of him at all of the injustices of the world.
Patience yields focus.
Keith breathed out. “You might have a good point. It would have taken me longer to figure out my feelings for you. Probably not until I got home…” His throat tightened.
He would’ve gotten home and been so listless, so lost, and not known why. How long would it have taken him to figure it out? Shiro would have to step in, he knew that much. But would it have been too late by then?
“That doesn’t make what happened to you a good thing,” Keith said fiercely, kicking himself for thinking that way. He blinked in surprise when he felt Pidge tug him down by the sleeve of his soaked shirt so she could stretch herself up and kiss his cheek.
“Thank you, Keith. Now, enough about this. It’s your turn for an emotional confession about all of the things you like about me,” Pidge said, her eyes glittering playfully.
Where could he start?
He loved listening to her ramble on or get caught up in long-winded tangents, before abruptly leaping back to her original topic, even if it meant he struggled to follow her stories. He loves the passion she held for her work. Her mischievous grin when she was about to make a pun. The cute way she tilted her head when she was puzzled by something.
Most of all, he loved how comfortable he felt with her.
The two of them talked for some time, lost in their own private world, right up until a knock at the door jolted them back to reality. They both looked to the glass door, where Lance stood in his borrowed jeans.
Keith lifted his hand in greeting, giving Lance silent permission to come inside.
“Hunk sent me with some food,” he said as he walked over to the side of the pool. He raised an eyebrow at their closeness but didn’t comment on it. “He also says that he’s jealous that you get to try surface cuisine and he wants to hear all about it once you get back, nevermind the number of times I’ve offered to bring food from mom.” Lance rolled his eyes.
Pidge laughed as she moved away to accept the bundle of food. “Sounds like Hunk’s doing just fine. How are Matt and my parents?”
“Still upset that you left without saying anything, but glad that you’re safe. Matt says if you don’t come home soon, he’s going to go through your stuff and color code it to his own specifications,” Lance said.
Pidge gasped in mock outrage. “He wouldn’t!”
“He might,” Lance said with a shrug. He glanced over at Keith, who wondered if it was a good time to make an excuse to go upstairs and leave them to talk. “Speaking of you going home, any idea when you’re going to?”
“Not yet.”
“Pidge-”
“I’m not ready yet,” she said stubbornly.
And yeah, that was Keith’s cue to go. He murmured an excuse to go check on Shiro and Curtis before getting out of the pool. He toweled off to the best of his ability on his way upstairs, where he found Curtis talking on the phone. He took one look at the expression on Keith’s face and pointed to the door leading out to the upper deck, where Shiro was leaning against the rail and enjoying the hot summer sun.
He turned to look at Keith when he heard the door slide open.
“Did Lance chase you off already?” Shiro asked.
Keith shrugged as he joined his brother. “It seemed like they have some things to talk about without me around. Mer stuff or whatever.” He vaguely waved his hand and then fell still, staring out over the ocean.
For a few minutes, neither of them spoke.
“I’ve been thinking about what Lance said, about the Royal Alteans and their magic.”
That wasn’t at all what Keith expected to hear. He looked up at Shiro with a frown. “What’s this about?”
“You’re happy here. Happier than I’ve ever seen you, and I can’t help but think that it’s more than just Pidge influencing that. This house, the ocean… this is where you belong.”
It didn’t take Keith long to figure out what Shiro was saying.
“I’m not leaving you,” Keith said, panic seeping into his voice. “Shiro, I can’t!”
“You could,” Shiro gently disagreed. “Keith, look at me. It doesn’t matter where you are in the world, you will always be my brother. No matter what choice you make, I will be there to support you. And this is your choice to make. I’m just pointing out one of the possibilities to you.” He held his arms open and let Keith hide his tears in the fabric of his t-shirt.
“Why do you always have to be like this? You’re the older one. Shouldn’t you be telling me not to go running off to live in the ocean with the girl I like?” Keith grumbled.
“Probably,” Shiro acknowledged.
Keith pulled back and wiped his eyes. “It’s ridiculous. I don’t… I couldn’t. What about your - our parents? What will you tell everyone?”
“We’d figure it out somehow. Lance should have a good idea of how this sort of thing works. You should ask him about it, if it’s something you’re genuinely considering,” Shiro said.
There was something about asking Lance for help that grated on his nerves, but that would be his best option. Far better than getting Pidge’s hopes up.
Though that raised another question: Did Pidge want him to go with her? What if their relationship wasn’t meant to last? The transformation was permanent, according to Lance, so would he be okay living in the ocean if he and Pidge had a fight and ended their relationship?
Keith had a lot to think about. A lot of pros and cons to weight before he came close to deciding. And somewhere in there, a talk with Lance to figure out how any of it would work.
“How many days do we have left?” Keith asked.
“Maybe a week more?” Shiro responded though he didn’t sound sure. “You don’t have to decide by then, but I’d talk to Lance for sure. This is a life-changing choice and I don’t want you to think of it as now or never just because we leave soon. We can always come back. The house isn’t going anywhere.”
“Yeah,” Keith murmured, his eyes drawn back to the ocean as he pondered the possibilities laid before him.
- - - - - 
Talking to Lance sucked.
They needled each other in all the wrong ways, which led to more bickering than coherent discussion, but eventually, they managed to (mostly) set aside their differences to have a civil conversation.
Keith had to admit, Lance had a wealth of information about the process, thanks to his half-mer lineage. Apparently, he and his older sister were the only two who chose to live in Arus, while the rest of his family lived on the surface and helped serve as liaisons between the two worlds. Anything Lance didn’t know, one of them could help with.
“You’d be surprised by how many people around here know the truth about mer. Loads of people around here are descendants, whether they know it or not, and it’s become a tradition to embrace stories about mer as part of the town tourism. It helps throw off people who really want to do us harm, I guess. Anyway, my family helps out a lot with any issues that crop up and my brother has a boat, which will be useful if you decide to go through with this.”
Keith looked at him in confusion. “Why would that be useful?”
“It’ll get us away from prying eyes, for one. And the spellwork will be easier away from the shore, especially the one here. Unless you want to get cut up by rocks?”
He had a good point, so Keith let it drop and agreed that a boat would be useful. Lance had a few more things to tell him before he left for the day, including a word of warning.
If Keith chose to live the rest of his life in the ocean, it couldn’t be solely because of Pidge. He had to be sure it was what he wanted for himself because once he chose, there would be no going back.
Keith knew that, but hearing it from someone else put it into sharper perspective.
Any time he didn’t spend agonizing over what he would do, he spent with Pidge. Not much had changed between them since their make-out session, aside from a newfound closeness and Pidge’s habit of finding ways to drape herself over him. They still sat around and talked. One day Keith brought a tv downstairs and watched a few movies with her, doing his best to explain “movie magic” to her until Shiro or Curtis took pity on him and lent a hand.
The days flew by, every second ticking away at an alarming rate. Keith knew their time was coming to an end when he saw Pidge gazing at the door with more and more frequency.
“I should go back tomorrow,” she said quietly.
“Already?” The word slipped out without Keith meaning for it to happen and he grimaced. “Sorry, I didn’t mean that. You’ve been away from your home for a while now and I know you miss it.”
“I do miss it. I’ve been trying to convince myself that I haven’t, but I really do. I miss my family, my work, everything about Arus,” Pidge said. “It’s time I stopped hiding. And anyway, you have to leave soon too, don’t you? I heard Curtis say something about packing.”
Keith swallowed. “About that… I don’t think I’m going with them.”
Pidge tilted her head to the side. “Why not?”
“I’ve been talking to Lance about something and figuring out a few things, and now I’ve decided.” Keith paused to steady his breathing. “I’ve decided that I’m going back with you. To Arus.”
For a brief moment, Keith thought she might tell him no, but then a delighted trill filled the air. That was his only warning before she hauled him down by his shirt and kissed him fully on the mouth. It was only a quick kiss, but it conveyed her happiness perfectly well.
“You’re going to love Arus!” she said as they separated. “I can’t wait to show you everything! Oh, I wonder what your coloring will be? That’s always the interesting part about this. The way Altean magic works, it should look similar to mine, just a different color.” Pidge stopped and took a hard look at Keith. “You’re sure about this, right? Lance told you that it’s a one-way transformation?”
“I know, and this is what I want,” Keith said.
Her pensive expression was swept away by a bright smile as she again began to talk about all of the things she could show him. He could only grin at her enthusiasm, though he was still slightly confused about what a klanmuirl was and how it was relevant to what she was talking about.
The more they talked, the more certain Keith was of his choice, and with Shiro’s unwavering support, he found that he was only slightly nervous when the day arrived.
Lance took care of everything. He roped his human family into helping them get to the right place, on top of convincing someone named Allura to meet them near the surface so she could perform the necessary spell. All Keith had to do was follow his instructions and everything would work out the way it was meant to.
Pidge threw a wrench in their planning when she decided at the last minute that she didn’t want to swim out to meet them, but travel by boat along with Keith. Once again, Lance and his family came to the rescue with a specially designed wheelchair that was equipped with a water tank and a blanket to hide her tail from view.
Keith stayed by her side the whole time, easing his nerves by quietly answering her questions as he pushed her through town. It worked until they reached the boat owned by Lance’s oldest brother, Luis, and were introduced to him and his mom, who insisted on being called Alita rather than Ms. McClain.
“Thanks for doing this for us,” Shiro said as he helped move a plank into place. Making a bridge was the only way they would be able to get Pidge onto the boat without taking her out of the wheelchair.
“It’s no problem. We love helping out where we can, and Pidge is a family friend,” Luis said. He bent down to make sure the board was stable and then gestured for Keith to push her across. Once they were safely on the boat, he and Shiro moved the plank back onto the dock for anyone else to use.
“Let’s get this party started!” Lance enthusiastically said as he jogged up behind them.
Keith jumped in surprise at the mer’s unexpected arrival. “I thought you were meeting us out there.”
“Huh? Nah, I’m the only one able to signal Allura once it’s safe for her to find us, and that’ll be way easier if I’m with you guys,” Lance said. He hopped the gap onto the boat, beating his brother and Shiro. “Alright there, Katie?”
Pidge nodded. “This is so cool! I never thought I’d actually be able to ride in one of these!”
Lance shrugged, apparently not seeing what the big deal was, and stepped out of the way to greet his mom, who opened her arms wide and hugged him tightly, as though it had been years since she last saw him rather than a few hours.
As everyone else got settled on the boat, Luis worked on untying them from the dock. It wasn’t long before they were ready to set sail for a point on the ocean that only the McClain family knew about.
While Shiro and Curtis made small talk and Pidge stared in awe at the rapidly shrinking shoreline, Keith closed his eyes and tipped back his head, lost in thought.
What would his dad say, if he were still around? Would he try and talk Keith out of it? Would he be supportive?
He thought about him a lot throughout his vacation. How could he not when he was home after so long? His dad loved that house and living so close to the ocean. Maybe he wasn’t drawn to it in the same way that Keith was, but he loved it all the same.
Keith had the fleeting thought of his dad insisting on joining him undersea and tried not to grin. That was absolutely something he would do, if he was still around.
A hand on Keith’s shoulder brought him out of his thoughts, and as he opened his eyes he realized they had stopped. The boat was unnaturally still on the water, not even rocking as the motor cut off.
“It’s time,” Pidge said, smiling at him. She took her hand away as Keith stood and walked in front of her, bending down so she could wrap her arms around his neck. He lifted her with ease and completely missed the looks of surprise from Luis and Alita, and carried her to the back of the boat, where Lance stood with his arms out.
Keith sucked in a breath as he took in the reason the boat wasn’t shifting in the waves. There were none. The water was flattened around them in a perfect sphere, held back by some sort of magic.
“Pretty awesome, right? I can do way better in my other form, but this is good enough for now,” Lance bragged.
“Show off,” Pidge teased, wriggling in anticipation. She took a moment to compose herself and then asked Keith to turn around so she could properly say goodbye to Shiro and Curtis.
Once she was done, Keith let her slide from his arms and watched as she splashed into the water below, disappearing from view. The ripples evened out before she breached the surface and waved up at him. “Allura and Hunk are here, so I’m going to go say hi! Come on in once you’re ready.”
“I guess this is it,” Keith said. He looked at Shiro, thankful that no more words needed to be spoken as they embraced, holding on tightly for as long as they could. When they separated, it wasn’t with dry eyes.
Curtis opened his arms and pulled Keith in for a brief hug. “We’ll see you next summer. Earlier, if we can manage it.”
Keith nodded and then stepped back up to the edge, preparing to jump in. He saw that two other mer had joined Pidge on the surface; one had dark hair and what looked like a yellow-orange cloth wrapped across his forehead, and the other mer had white hair and bright pink marks on each cheek.
“You might want to strip out of your clothes before you jump in,” Lance warned him. “Transforming is uncomfortable enough without those getting in the way.”
Before Keith could start to look around for a solution to preserve his modesty, Shiro tossed him a towel patterned with crabs for him to wrap around his waist. He shot Lance an irritated look before he began to strip, neatly folding his clothes and setting them aside, piece by piece.
Lance rolled his eyes.
Keith made sure he had a good grip on the towel, held his breath, and then jumped, plunging feet-first into the water. He resurfaced quickly, aided by Pidge to stay afloat, though it wasn’t too difficult to do on his own thanks to Lance’s iron control over the surface of the water.
“Keith, I’d like to meet Hunk and Allura,” Pidge said, gesturing first to the dark-haired mer and then to the one with pink markings.
Hunk surprised him by swimming in for a hug. “It’s good to finally meet you.”
“Uh yeah. You too?” Keith said, taken aback by the friendliness Hunk immediately showed him. He looked at Allura, wondering if she was about to do the same, but she simply smiled warmly and then got straight to business.
“Lance has already informed you of how this process goes, but I’d like to go over it one last time,” she said.
Keith was momentarily surprised by her accent, but brushed it aside and nodded, willing to do whatever he needed to.
“It’s very important that I complete the spell uninterrupted. If not, you will revert to purely human and we will not be able to try again. You must remain calm and that will not be an easy task.” Allura’s gaze softened, though her voice remained firm. “You will feel discomfort as your body changes, but it should not escalate to terrible pain. For some, that discomfort is too much and they lose sight of what is happening. Should you forget to hold your breath and start to drown, I will stop.”
Keith nodded. Lance had gone through everything with him a number of times, in greater detail. “I’m ready.”
Pidge kissed his cheek and then swam over to Hunk, remaining a safe distance away.
Allura glanced up at Lance. “How are you holding up?”
“I could do this all day, beautiful,” he responded with a wink.
Allura rolled her eyes and muttered something under her breath. She lifted her hands out of the water and held them out towards Keith. “Take my hands and hold your breath so we may begin.”
Keith did so, closing his eyes as well as Allura pulled him under the water. He expected a feeling of panic or alarm to set in as all sound became muffled and he sank deeper, but he felt perfectly at ease.
If he were to open his eyes, he would see the crescent marks on Allura’s cheeks begin to glow, and soon after the matching patterns on her upper arms and sides. Her magic went to work, slowly transferring into him, seeking out what needed to be changed, and then it picked up speed.
Keith felt the warmth first, settling in his chest and legs. And then came the prickling feeling, like he sat the wrong way for too long and his legs were going numb. It intensified and Keith wondered if he’d been lied to about the pain, but it eased up after a few seconds.
Allura let go of his hands, and soon after his ears popped and he could hear clearly. He opened his eyes in shock, fearing for a moment that he’d floated back up to the surface, ruining the whole spell and his chance at being with Pidge.
He found himself staring at Allura, who looked back at him with a shocked expression. Hunk and Pidge were a respectful distance away, but he found that he could see them clearly through the water.
Hunk and Allura were as different from one another as they were from Pidge and Lance. He remembered Pidge saying something about different types of tails, but it was only by seeing it for himself that he understood what she meant.
Hunk had a magnificent tail, banded with stripes of golden-yellow and brown. His fins fanned around him in great spikes, making him appear even larger than he was.
Allura was his opposite. She was slender and fluid, with fins that danced like sheer curtains caught in a breeze. Her scales were dazzling in color and were primarily white, with splotches of pinks and a hint of blue.
“You should be able to breathe now,” Allura said.
He released the air he’d been holding in the form of a few tiny bubbles, and then, going against his innate instinct to rush to the surface, he breathed in.
“It worked,” he said in wonder, raising his hands to see if there was anything different. There was slightly more webbing between his fingers to aid in swimming, but no other visual difference. As he looked down his body, however, he started to see the reason for the shock on Allura’s face.
At his waist, his skin faded smoothly into a purple color, which remained light across what was once the tops of his legs, while at his sides it began transitioning to a darker shade. Dots of red splashed through that transitional area, spaced so closely together that it looked like a splotchy ribbon winding down each side of his tail.
His tail which was not scaled, but instead resembled shark skin. Keith reached down to check and found that it was rough to the touch.
Keith looked back at Pidge, who swam in closer with an expression of awe on her face. She reached out, touching his lower jaw and tracing something up onto his cheek. “It worked,” he giddily repeated to her and then turned his attention back to Allura. “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome, Keith, but all you needed was a bit of a nudge in the right direction. Your own magic handled the rest on its own,” Allura said.
“My… my own magic?” Keith asked with a frown.
Allura nodded. “Perhaps we should take this above water. I’m sure everyone would like to hear this.”
Pidge helped Keith rise gently back up to the surface, whispering to him how to move in a way that wouldn’t have him spinning in circles or moving too fast.
“That was fast,” Lance remarked as they all popped their heads up. He continued to keep the water still. “There wasn’t a complication, was there?”
“No, it worked flawlessly. Even better than I expected, to be honest, but that is all thanks to Keith’s lineage,” Allura said.
His lineage. Keith was still trying to work his brain around his own magic working to help Allura’s, and she had to throw that into the mix? There was something about his bloodline that helped him become a mer?
Alita stepped forward, her expression kind as she addressed Keith. “You’re Travis Hawkins’ boy, aren’t you? I always suspected he had knowledge of mer-folk, but I never knew how. Now I suppose we finally know, it was thanks to your mother.”
“My mother?”
All Keith felt was confusion. What did his mom have to do with anything? He never had the chance to meet her, and his dad never talked about her.
“Keith, you have Galra markings,” Pidge said. “That sort of thing is only passed down from parent to child. If both of your parents were born human, even if one of your grandparents was mer, then you wouldn’t inherit that magic. This means your mom was Galra.”
He was half-mer.
Shock settled over him.
Shiro seemed to realize the same thing, but his surprise quickly gave way to joy. “Keith, do you know what this means? You’re half-mer, like Lance! You can come back and visit whenever you’d like! That is what that means, right?” He looked to Lance for confirmation.
“It’ll take some practice to shift correctly, but yeah. Pretty much,” Lance said.
He could come back.
He wouldn’t spend the rest of his life separated from his brother.
Keith still wanted to go live with Pidge, but the relief he felt at having the option to return soothed him in a way he hadn’t expected. Slowly, his shock began to wear off. He could see Shiro again. Could go for walks along the shore. And at the end of the day, he could go home to Pidge.
“I could come back to see you off,” he said, ignoring Lance’s quiet admonishment that he needed practice first and it wasn’t easy. He’d master it in hours just to spite the blue-tailed mer.
“Then we’ll see you in two days and you can tell us all about your new home before we leave,” Shiro said.
Hunk swam up next to them. “Speaking of home, we should get back before everyone starts to wonder where you’ve gone, princess.”
Allura nodded. “Yes, of course. Lance, are you ready?”
Lance looked relieved by the news but continued to work his magic over the area despite the slight tremor in his arms. “I’ll be right behind you.”
Goodbyes were exchanged and Keith smiled at his brother one more time before inexpertly diving underwater to follow Pidge and the others to the teludav that would take him to his new home.
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Bifrost Blues Chapter 27: The Garden
Fandom: Thor (movies), MCU Rating: M Warnings: Slurs, Sexual Content, Violence Pairing: Loki/OC Summary: According to the rules, no Jotun shall ever set foot in Asgard. According to the rules, no Prince of Asgard shall befriend a Jotun. According to the rules Rules were made to be broken. Written for @flufftober2021​
<< Day 26+ 
Day 28+ >>
Prompt #27: “I’m cold” “Here, take my jacket”
Read on Ao3+
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image by the author with ourdining room @ tumblr
2011 A.D.
The banquet inside was still crowded with people when Angrboda slipped out into the quiet gardens. The hall had been unbearably hot with the crush of bodies eating, drinking, and dancing together. She tugged at the high collar of her dress, wishing she did not have to keep every inch of her skin covered to avoid detection.
The maze of hedgerows closed around her. When she was safely out of sight, she pulled off her gloves. For a time she wandered, hoping the cool of the night air would give her some relief. At the heart of the maze, she found a deserted stone bench, glowing silver in the moonlight. She sat down on it, dropping her gloves beside her. With a furtive glance in the darkness, she started rolling up the long sleeves of her gown.
“If I am hot, you must be sweltering,” Loki said, appearing from the shadows.
Dressed in his Asgardian finery, he looked every inch the prince, if an overheated one. He rolled up his own sleeves as he sat down beside her.
“What I would give for a Jotun gown,” Angrboda said. “But your Asgardians are too bold for that. I’m surprised no one has pinched my cheeks yet. They’ve tried to pinch everything else.”
“Hmmm. Are there some hands that need chopping off? As prince, I’d be happy to oblige.”
She ran a hand over her brow, wiping away the sweat beading there. “Perhaps not yet. Though if Fandral continues as he’s started, he may find himself thrown across the room for his troubles.”
He laughed. “I give you leave to throw him anywhere you like, but only if you alert me before you do. I’d hate to miss such sport.”
The stars overhead were dancing in rainbow patterns never seen on Jotunheim. She let herself lean against Loki’s shoulder, enjoying his nearness as much as the celestial lights.
“May I?” he asked, his hand hovering over hers.
The way her heart sped up had nothing to do with the heat. “Yes.”
His long fingers twitched, and a flash of green went over her, cooling her body from head to toe. She sighed with bliss as the heat melted away. But his seidr teased her until she was hyperaware of every part of him that touched her—his shoulder, his thigh, even their feet sat together on the ground.
“Thank you. That’s much better,” she said, her mouth suddenly dry.
His fingers reached up to toy with her necklace as he watched her. His eyes were the darkest blue, like the night sky.
“I would see you as you really are,” he said.
It was madness, but with the way he was looking at her, how could she refuse? Her hands trembled as she removed the necklace. Instantly she felt more comfortable, as though the Asgardian disguise itself raised her body temperature.
He took a lock of her red hair and wrapped it around his finger. “Much better.”
Time stopped. Later she could not say how long they sat there, breathing each other’s breath. Their bodies were drawn together inevitably, the way the moon draws the tide. Angrboda refused to close her eyes. She would see Loki’s face when they kissed for the first time—especially since this first kiss was likely to be their last. His lips were so close she could feel the heat of them—a soft, subtle heat, one that teased without burning.
But then there was a rustling on the path, and a scratching of boots on gravel. A feminine giggle turned into a gasp, and was joined by a man’s murmuring. Angrboda pulled back from Loki, trying to refasten her necklace around her neck, only to drop it. Loki retrieved it and placed it around her neck just as Fandral emerged from the maze, a fair maiden clinging to his arm.
“My Prince,” Fandral said. “And Lady Sigyn. I see you’ve beaten us here. My apologies for the interruption.”
But the moment was ruined, and Angrboda could not bear to stay here in this garden of broken dreams.
“No, we were just leaving,” she said. “Please, don’t go on my account.”
She hurried away, pretending not to hear Loki calling after her.
End Note:
I decided that frost giants would be hot, rather than cold :)
Day 28+ >>
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nessiansimp · 4 years
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Merry Christmas, Feyre Darling
Ok so I’m new to tumblr and I’ve never posted here before so take it easy on me please 😅
Feysand Fic
Fluffy Highschool AU
*Listen, I know it's not Christmas yet, but I got so excited writing this and I couldn't wait until December to post it*
Three knocks sounded against her window.
At first, she assumed it was the wind or a random pigeon. It was nearly midnight on Christmas eve, and everyone she knew was out of town for the holidays. Her father was away on some business meeting and her sister, Nesta, had chosen to spend her vacation with her college friends instead. Everyone was out, except Elain who was staying with her, but she hadn't really been in the festive mood. Something about a boy named Grayson who broke her heart.
But the knocks sounded again, more urgent this time. She threw her textbook on the bed and made for the window. The cool night air greeted her as she thrust it open to find a dark silhouette leaning against a tree, his hands full of pebbles.
The moonlight glinted off his midnight hair and his eyes sparkled. He was wearing his signature leather jacket with his usual sneakers and jeans. He let the pebbles fall to the ground, then brushed the dust off his fingers and slid his hands into his pockets.
Rhys smiled wickedly. "Hello, Feyre darling."
She cocked her head. "Were you throwing rocks at my window?"
"Maybe." He smoothed the lapels of his jacket. "How else was I supposed to get your attention?"
She gave him a wolfish grin. "What are you doing here?"
"I want to show you something."
She raised a brow. "Right now?"
He walked closer to the window and braced his hands on the windowsill. "Of course, now. There's no time like the present."
She crossed her arms, debating whether or not it was a good idea. Nesta wasn't home, so she wouldn't be there to lecture her about running off in the middle of the night with some strange boy. But she had a big project coming up for art club and she really wanted to get ahead on it.
She sighed. "I have a lot of work to do."
He pouted. "What work could you possibly be doing on Christmas Eve?"
"Well, there's this art project that I have to do, and then I have this painting I need to finish, and then-"
He held up his hands. "Alright, alright, I get it." He offered her a small smile but she didn't miss the disappointment his eyes.
Rhys shrugged. "Maybe next time."
Feyre watched him sulk back down the road, dragging his feet and kicking up dust along the way.
She bit her lip. She felt really guilty. All he'd wanted to do was spend some time with her and she'd turned him down, when he was one of the only people who'd stood by her and taken care of her after she'd broken up with her abusive ex Tamlin. And it wasn't like she had anyone else to spend Christmas with, since Elain was asleep upstairs.   She picked up her textbook again and stared at the colorful pages.
"Screw this," she muttered. She thrust her book aside and tied her hair back, then slipped on her boots. She tiptoed down the hall to the back door, mindful to keep her steps quiet and not to wake Elain. She went outside and ran after him, past the house she had spent all afternoon decorating, stringing Christmas lights and wrapping presents. Her boots crunched on the leaves on the ground and the cold made her shiver slightly. At least there wasn't any snow. She hated the snow, and anything cold. It rarely snowed in Velaris, but when it did, it was several feet deep and impossible to get through.
She finally reached him, and she bent over with her hands on her knees, wheezing and out of breath.
"Wait," she gasped. He turned around, his brows drawn in confusion.
She paused to catch her breath, then said "I'll come."
He frowned. "Are you sure...?"
"A few minutes couldn't hurt."
He seemed to debate the idea in his head, but after a while he relented. His stance became casual again and he grinned at her. "Follow me."
Rhys turned around and started walking towards the forest, not giving her a moment to reconsider what she'd just agreed to. He walked in long strides, and she almost had to jog to keep up with him.
She huffed, still out of breath. "Where are we going?"
His eyes sparkled with mischief. "It's a surprise."
"I don't like surprises."
His mouth quirked to the side. "You'll like this one."
She grunted, but followed him anyway.
The moon followed them as they made their way to the forest and away from civilization. The only sounds were the crunch of leaves beneath their feet and the howls of the wind.
Soon, they'd left the warm lights of her house far behind and they stood at the edge of the forest in front of a wrought iron gate. But instead of opening it and walking in, Rhys leaped over the gate and landed on the other side with unnerving grace. He undid the latch and swung open the gate for her, then bowed dramatically.
Feyre snorted. "Show off."
He smirked, unbothered, and they continued down the gravel path.
Crickets chirped and birds cawed. Branches cracked beneath their feet as they ventured through the underbrush. They were so far away from the real world that she couldn't hear the familiar sounds of cars and city life anymore. She heard the rustling of wings as a dark shadow flicked past them, and she ducked to avoid the bird swooping for her head. Towering oaks loomed over them, hiding the moon and making the trail darker with each step, until at one point she could barely see two feet in front of her.
Rhys's hand slipped into hers, lacing their fingers together. He brought his mouth to her ear and whispered "Just so I don't lose you."  
She swallowed. "Okay."
He grinned and squeezed her hand, leading them deeper into the forest.
It wasn't a difficult hike. She'd endured far worse on her family's occasional hiking trips. But it was steep enough that she found herself holding Rhys' hand tighter to keep herself balanced as she trekked in her worn out sneakers.
This was definitely a bad idea. Leaving her house alone at night without telling anyone where she was was dangerous and reckless and stupid. She was none of those things. But being around Rhys made her want to do dangerous and reckless and stupid things.
She realized suddenly that despite all they'd been through, she barely knew anything about him. Didn't know where he'd come from, who his parents were. It surprised her more that she wanted to know so badly.
"You know," she said, breaking the silence that had settled over them, "I really don't think I should be following a mysterious boy into the woods in the middle of the night."
He pushed a branch away from his face with his free hand. "Why not?" he asked.
"Well, to start with, you could be taking me to whatever this mysterious place is for any number of reasons: to kidnap me, hold me for ransom..."
She went on listing all the different methods of torture she could think of as a laugh escaped him.
"How morbid." He snickered. "If I wanted to subject you to torture, I'd simply drop you off at Cassian's place and make you watch him argue with your sister."
Feyre snorted. "No thanks. Torture sounds nicer."
He smirked. "What is it with you and torture? There are other ways I could make you scream, Feyre darling."
She punched him in the arm. Hard.
He scowled, but the amusement in his eyes betrayed him. "Ow."
She snatched her hand from his grasp and walked ahead of him, refusing to think too long on what he'd said. She was very grateful for the darkness because she was blushing profusely. He jogged after her, laughing like a drunk.
She ignored him and walked faster, but then yelped as she tripped over what she assumed was a tree root. She threw her hands in front of her, ready for the collision, but strong hands grabbed her waist. Rhys spun her around and she slammed into his chest. She nearly stumbled again as her legs gave out under her, but he hauled her closer to him and gripped her harder.
He stroked his thumb over her cheek, sparking a trail of fire every place his finger touched her skin. "You okay?"
Her heart beat faster at his warmth. She didn't know when she had started being affected by his touch so much.
Her breath clouded the air in front of her. "I'm fine," she whispered.
His eyes shone with concern. "Can you walk?"
She pushed away from him, rolling her eyes. She instantly regretted it, feeling suddenly cold without his warmth. "I'm fine."
His brows furrowed, but he nodded. He took her hand in his, and she almost snatched it away again, but the look in his eyes made her want to hold onto him longer.
They walked in silence for a while. Minutes passed by, and her feet were starting to ache.
"How much longer?" she asked.
He squeezed her hand. "Not long."
Finally, she could see the moon overhead again, as the forest became less dense. She sniffed the air. It felt cooler and crisper than the air in the city. They must have gone very high up to have gotten away from all the pollution that clouded the city.  
Rhys smiled as he pushed back a few more branches. "We're here."
She gasped.
They stood on a large hillside overlooking a view of the city. Thousands of lights twinkled from buildings and houses below, their roofs decorated with colorful Christmas lights. A faint sound of music came from somewhere in the city, a joyful melody accompanied by laughter and singing. A sea of stars looked down from above, the crescent moon glowing brightly in the night sky.
She'd never realized how beautiful Velaris was before.
She glanced at Rhys. It'd been too dark for her to see much of him when they were in the woods, but she could see him clearly now. The lights below bathed his skin in a warm glow, making his face look almost look golden. The breeze ruffled his dark, tousled hair, and she noticed a swirl of black ink peeking out above his collar, the start of a tattoo. His hard features had softened and his eyes were warm and thoughtful. He was impossibly handsome.
The thought startled her. She'd never thought about him in that way before. Never allowed herself to after what had happened between her and Tamlin. Rhys had been a jerk to her when they'd first met, embarrassing her in front of her friends and constantly trying to annoy her at any given opportunity. But over the last couple of weeks, she'd started seeing a different side of him. A side she doubted he often showed to many people.
But it was stupid of her to think of him like that. She doubted he felt anything for her. It was a wonder he didn't have a girlfriend yet. With those looks, he could get anyone at school if he wanted to. And if he stopped being a horrible jerk to everyone that wasn't Cass, Az, Mor, or Amren.
Rhys glanced at her out of the corner of his eye. She realized she'd been staring at him.
"What?" he asked.
She looked away quickly, feeling the heat rise to her cheeks. "Nothing."
He grinned. "Enjoying the view?"
"Are you talking about your face or Velaris?"
He laughed, the sound like silk on water. "Whichever you want."
Rhys lay down on the ground and crossed his arms behind his head. She lay down next to him, running her hands through the soft grass.
After a while, she said "I've never seen this place before."
"Most people don't know about it," he mused.
"How is that possible?"
He shrugged, somehow making the casual movement look impossibly elegant. "Most people don't bother to look. Everyone's trapped in their phones these days."
Feyre nodded in agreement, although she felt like a hypocrite for doing so. If anyone was addicted to their phone, it was her.
She shivered and rubbed her hands. It felt like the temperature had suddenly dropped by 50 degrees.
Rhys's eyes flicked over her, then he took his jacket off and held it out to her. "Here."
She shook her head. "I'm fine."
He stood up and came behind her, pushing her hair back to drape the jacket over her shoulders. "You'll catch a cold like this."
She looked him over, him wearing nothing more than a thin T-shirt and jeans, with his cheeks slightly rosy from the cold.
He smiled, noticing her gaze. "I'll be fine."
She pursed her lips, uncertain, but eventually she relented.
"Hold on," he said. "I'll be right back. I'll just go get some wood to start a fire."
She nodded, although the idea of being alone there didn't sound very tempting. As beautiful as the view was, she wasn't about to dismiss the fact that they were practically in the middle of nowhere surrounded by who knows what.
He disappeared into the trees and she sat alone in the quiet for a couple of minutes. She swore she could feel something watching her, but she didn't see anything out of the ordinary as she peered into the dark forest beyond. She was probably just imagining it. It could easily be just another deer or an owl.
After a while, her patience had started to wear thin, and she was just about to get up and go after Rhys when she heard something behind her. At first she thought she'd imagined it, but then it sounded again.
Creak.
She kept her back to whatever it was behind her, not daring to breath too loudly. She stifled the urge to turn around and sprint for the woods and hope she found Rhys somewhere along the way.
Creak.
Again she heard the sound, closer this time. She was starting to panic. Her palms had begun sweating and her heart was hammering in her ribcage.
Suddenly, something grabbed her from behind and she screamed. She turned around, flailing and clawing at the thing.
Rhys burst into laughter, clutching his stomach to keep himself from falling over.
"What the hell?" she yelled at him.
Rhys tried to speak, but he was wheezing and giggling uncontrollably.
She kicked him in the shin, which only caused him to laugh even more. He managed to control himself long enough to wipe a tear from his face. "You should've seen your face."
Her vision turned red and she pushed him onto the ground. He landed flat on his back and she climbed on top of him.
She snarled in his face. "I hate you."
He stopped laughing suddenly. He studied her with fierce intensity, eyes searching hers. His warm breath fanned over her face as he licked his lips. Her eyes followed the movement against her will and she found herself leaning closer and closer. He stared at her eyes, then at her mouth, then back at her eyes again, the hint of a smile curling his lips.
Before she could think it through, she leaned in and brushed her lips against his, barely more than a whisper of a touch. He reacted immediately, his hand coming up to cup her cheek. She breathed in the scent of him, the smell of rain and citrus, and pressed her lips harder against his. He reached behind her to undo her hair tie, running his hands through the loose hair that spilled over her shoulders. Her own fingers toyed with the soft curls at the nape of his neck.
She melted into him, his body warm and hard beneath her. He moaned softly as she bit his lower lip, but she pulled back to see him better.
He smirked. "You still hate me?"
She pressed a soft kiss to his jaw. "I'd be tempted to forgive you for another kiss."
He beamed. "I'd be more than happy to oblige."
Rhys nipped at her fingers playfully, and she grinned. He stood up and arranged the wood he'd gathered in a small camping hearth nearby, then he pulled out a match and lit a fire. The blazing fire and Rhys's soft jacket warmed her thoroughly, chasing away the cold winter weather. He blew on the fire until the flames began rising, then stepped back and sat back down next to her. The smell of smoke wafted over to her as she rolled over to rest her head on his chest and he began playing with her hair.
They stayed that way for a few minutes, staring at the stars and listening to each other's breathing, until Rhys nudged her head with his chin and pointed to a patch of stars. "You see those?" he asked. "The ones where it looks like a man holding an arrow."
She nodded.
"That's the Orion Constellation," he said. "They call it The Hunter."
She tilted her head to see it better. "Oh yeah, I can totally see why."
"It's from Greek Mythology. They say that Orion called himself the greatest hunter in the world, and Hera got mad and sent a scorpion to kill him."
"And I thought you were dramatic."
He snorted.
She pointed to another place in the sky. "What about that one?"
"Ursa Major."
"Looks like a bear."
He kissed her nose. "It is a bear."
She fingered his shirt, trying not to think about what he looked like underneath the soft fabric. "What's the story behind it?"
He buried his face in her shoulder and started kissing her neck, but she poked him in the side. "Tell me."
"Mmm," his teeth scraped the skin on her shoulder. "Maybe later," he whispered, sucking on a spot on her throat lightly.
She shoved his face away. "Tell me the story."
He licked his lips and grinned at her. "You taste delicious, Feyre darling."
She scowled, but he laughed and said "Fine, I'll tell you."
He tucked her into his side again and rested his chin on top of hers, then started. "There was this nymph called Callisto. She swore a vow of chastity to Artemis, the goddess of the hunt, but one day she met Zeus and they fell in love."
He sighed, as if he'd told the story a million times before, and she found herself wondering how many other girls he'd taken to a spot like this. The thought filled her with such jealousy that she pushed it away immediately and turned her attention back to the story.
He continued. "Together, they had a son, and Artemis banished Callisto because of her betrayal. Once Zeus's wife Hera found out about her husband and the nymph, she was filled with such envy that she turned Callisto into a bear."
She covered her mouth to suppress a yawn as Rhys glanced at her.
He smiled sadly. "I'm boring you, aren't I?"
She shook her head. "No, not at all. I'm just tired." She squeezed his hand encouragingly. "Go on."
"You're sure you wouldn't rather do something else? I don't want to bore you." He kissed her head and smirked. "How about that forgiveness we talked about earlier?"
She clamped her lips together to keep from smiling. "After you finish the story."
He grunted and went on with the story. "For the next few years of her life, Callisto wandered the woods in the form of a bear. Her son, Arcas, grew up to be a hunter, and one day he spotted her in the woods. So he drew his spear and aimed at her. Zeus watched the whole thing from Olympus, and when he saw what was about to happen, he sent them both to the heavens and they became constellations in the sky. Callisto became Ursa Major and Arcas became Ursa Minor."
"When Hera found out, she was even more enraged, and persuaded Oceanus and Tethys to never allow the bear to bathe in the northern waters. Which is why Ursa Major never goes below the northern horizon in mid-northern latitudes."
He yawned. "The end."
She snuggled closer to him. "Sounds like everything's always Hera's fault."
He kissed her cheek. "Mhm."  
She glanced up at him. "How do you know all this?"
"I have a thing for astronomy," he admitted, and kissed the corner of her mouth.
He rubbed his eyes and blew out a breath. "It's getting late, and you're probably tired. We should go back."
"It's fine. We can stay a little longer if you want. Unless you have to go back." She frowned. "Do your parents know you're here?"
He hesitated. "I'm sure they'd be fine with it."
"Really?"
He seemed to be struggling to find the right words. "They're not here right now."
She drew his jacket closer around herself as a chill went through her. "When are they coming back?"
He swallowed. "No, I mean they're dead."
Her mouth fell open. Oh.
He scratched his head. "My sister too, actually."
He said it so casually, with such nonchalance, that she thought she'd misheard him for a second.
"I'm so sorry," she whispered. "I didn't know."
His voice had become slightly colder as he said "I didn't expect you to."
"How did it happen?"
He moved to stoke the flames, completely unaffected by what she'd asked him. "Car crash. It happened a few years ago, but I've moved on."
She reached up and kissed him several times, as if she could convey how sorry she was in the gesture. She wanted to take all his pain and worries away, but she didn't think there was much she could do to help him. From her experience, those kinds of wounds never fully healed.
He started playing with her hair again as she said "My mom died of cancer when I was eight."
His eyes softened. "You never told me."
She shrugged. "It was a long time ago and I don't really remember her. From the memories I do have of her, she wasn't particularly nice. Never the kind, gentle mother I wanted. She was cold... and distant."
He smiled sadly in understanding and tucked an errant lock of hair behind her ear.
She pushed up from where they were lying down suddenly and pointed to the sky. "Look, a shooting star!"
Rhys sat up and grinned. "Make a wish."
She propped herself up on her elbows. "You first."  
"Okay. I wish-"
She interrupted him. "You're not supposed to say it out loud, smart ass."
He rolled his eyes. "Well, too bad."  
He took her hands in his and pulled her closer.
"I wish I could gather all the stars in the sky for you, Feyre," he breathed. "I wish I could take all the galaxies and constellations and comets and wrap them in a present and offer it to you."
He leaned in and pressed a soft kiss to her lips. He pulled back quickly, his eyes sparkling like twilight as they searched hers. "I wish I could collect a million falling stars and place them in your palm so all your wishes could come true."
She felt her face go bright red as she blushed.
He grinned, pleased with her reaction. "Your turn."
She closed her eyes and concentrated. I wish... I wish... I wish that...
She opened her eyes again a few moments later and he asked "What did you wish for?"
"If I tell you, it won't come true," she chided.
He tried prying it out of her, but after a while, he gave up on and they lay back down, fingers laced together, her head on his chest. Her eyes slid shut as she listened to the crackling of the fire and the rhythm of his chest rising and falling.
Rhys kissed the top of her head. "You're falling asleep. Let's go back."
"Just a few more minutes," she murmured.
He sighed. "I've already taken too much of your time anyway. You had a million things to do and I pulled you away from all of it."
She smiled to herself. "It was totally worth it."
He kissed her forehead, pulled the jacket tighter around her, then stood up and dragged her off the ground so she could stand up. She leaned against him lazily, her thoughts too cloudy to think properly. He put out the fire and wrapped an arm around her shoulder, nestling her into his side. She said goodbye to the stars and moon one last time, before they began the journey back through the forest.
After a long, arduous descent back down the mountain, where Rhys had offered multiple times to carry her and she had declined, they finally reached the iron gate. Her house came back into view after a while, and soon they were standing in her backyard again.
Feyre rubbed her eyes and yawned. "Thank you for tonight."
She shrugged his jacket off and tried to give it back to him, but he only kissed her hand, then told her to keep it.
"But you'll catch a cold on your way back," she said.
Rhys smiled. "It's only a few minutes away."
She hugged him goodbye and thanked him again, and was about to go back inside, when one of the Christmas decorations overhead fell on her head. She pulled back from him as the small object fell into her palm.
She grinned. "Well at least one part of your wish came true. I got a falling star in the palm of my hand."
He laughed, the sound so earnest and genuine, that she realized she could have wished for no better way to spend her Christmas.
"Merry Christmas, Feyre darling," he said.
"Merry Christmas, Rhys."
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sighmurderbot · 3 years
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Irish Coffee Chapter Three
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Title: Gatorade and Sixth Floor Coffee
Chapter Rating/Warnings: G, I don’t think there’s even any profanity in this one
Word Count: 2.9k
Summary: They meet over coffee and Kierkegaard. There was a spark in his honey-brown eyes that drew her to him. There was a sadness behind her bright smile that drew him to her. Spencer Reid/Original Female Character. Slow burn coffee shop meet. Strangers to friends to lovers. This fic is also available on AO3, it’s ahead of tumblr currently!
previous chapter//next chapter
“Friendship is unnecessary, like philosophy, like art.... It has no survival value; rather it is one of those things which give value to survival.” 
― C.S. Lewis, The Four Loves
One exhausting week rolled into the next. Spencer didn’t stop by every day, but the days he did I found myself smiling a little easier. He was considerate, always making sure I could clearly read his lips when it was noisy, always patient even when I could tell he had somewhere to be.
When the shop was empty he would linger an extra moment or two, giving me some sort of obscure fact about coffee, cafes, caffeine, or something else tangentially related. I soaked it up like a little knowledge sponge. The way he gestured with his hands when he got excited about what he was saying always put a grin on my face. 
When the shop was busy, with suits shoving in and out, Spencer waited quietly in line and was extra polite when ordering, as if his manners would make up for the harsh and hurried words I was subjected to from others. 
And every time he came in, no matter what time of day, rain or shine, he ordered a large mocha with extra sugar.
By the second week I started noticing him before he walked in. Something caught my eye, maybe it was his cardigans or incessantly mismatched socks, or maybe I was developing a Spencer radar, but I started to have his coffee ready before he reached the counter.
The first time I proudly plunked his order in front of him before he could speak I think I really threw him off. It wasn’t a busy day, and I was already leaning on the counter, allowing myself a little bit of rest. He paused, mouth still open, and tilted his head at the cup. He then pressed his lips together and frowned slightly. Was he disappointed? It certainly looked like it.
“It’s exactly how you like,” I hurried to assure him.
“Thanks,” he replied, slowly taking the cup. I felt my stomach drop as he began to turn away. I had been looking forward to his visit, especially since I hadn't seen him for a few days. Somehow the young doctor always found a way to make me smile. 
“I thought,” I called out after him, stopping his movements, “that it would help to have it ready. You know, so I don’t have to go make it in the middle of talking to you.”
He turned back, frown now bent into a small smile.
"How efficient," he said. I shrugged.
"I like to maximize the good things in life."
Spencer didn't reply right away, instead electing to shyly drop his eyes and take a sip of coffee. His muscles relaxed a little as the hot liquid worked it's magic.
"How have you been enjoying Asimov?" I asked, falling back to a safe subject for both of us: books. Any tension that may have been lingering dissipated as Spencer's eyes lit up.
"Fascinating!" He started, and I settled myself against the counter a little more, perfectly happy to listen. After noticing my hearing aids, Spencer made sure to speak clearly when we conversed, and for the few brief moments I was with him, it was like my hearing had never started to degenerate at all.
"Psychohistory as a concept alone is fascinating, and when applied to a well developed futuristic universe it practically crafts the story by itself. The field itself only really became recognized when Lloyd deMause developed a formal approach to apply to the study of psychobiology, history, and social dynamics. Even that was fairly recently; deMause is still an influential figure in the field today."
Without fail, whenever Spencer stopped in, I learned something. The information, the passion with which he presented it, everything down to his soft, first-year philosophy professor look had me longing to go back to school. Listening to Spencer teach, whether it was conscious or not on his part, was like sips of water in the desert.
Not for the first time I wondered what he did for work. He was skittish about the subject, the first time I asked he dodged the question, and any time the conversation had neared the subject again he'd start to clam up, avoid eye contact, and worry at his bag or cardigan sleeve.
If he doesn't want to talk about it he doesn't want to talk about it, I reasoned finally. Lord knows there's enough secret jobs in this city, why would he take a break from work for coffee just to talk about work with a random barista?
So I had dropped the subject, and our talks flowed around books and philosophy and whatever tidbits of trivia were on his mind that day.
Unfortunately, our discussion was brought to a quick conclusion when another customer entered, sending the bell above the door swinging with an annoying tone that ensured I always had a low-level headache.
I stood and exchanged a small wave with Spencer. Even the way he waved, hand low, arm tucked into his side, made me smile. When he left he was careful not to rip the door open, the bell barely moved as he slipped away. 
We continued like that for a time, but as fall turned towards winter, I found myself struggling to get out of bed in the morning. Exhaustion weighted my limbs before I even got to work, and even the heaviest concealer couldn’t cover the bruise-like shadows beneath my eyes. Whereas before I would tidy the shop during lulls, I now had to pause to catch my breath after rushes, as if every customer took what little energy I had with them. My Spencer radar didn’t go off for days at a time, sometimes almost an entire week would pass before he would stop in. I felt foolish for looking forward to a regular so much, but I couldn’t help myself. I enjoyed his company, even though I knew he probably didn’t give me a second thought once he was outside the shop doors. 
It had been one of the longer stretches since Spencer visited when I woke up in the middle of the night, head aching and throat raw. 
It was bound to happen eventually, I thought, dragging myself across my studio apartment and getting a glass of water. Even the simple liquid hurt to swallow.
I winced and returned to bed, grabbing my phone. Flipping it open, I navigated to the two numbers I needed and sent a message to my bosses for both the coffee shop and the diner. Surely they couldn’t begrudge me a single sick day.
Attempting another sip of water, I burrowed back into my blankets and slipped into a restless sleep.
Spencer
A few hours later, in another part of the city…
Spencer found mornings difficult, especially since he was left only with crappy sixth floor coffee until lunch. The team had handled back to back cases that left him drained and a pile of files towering on each member’s desk. 
“Morning,” Morgan greeted as his younger associate stepped off the elevator. Spencer gave him a noncommittal noise and a nod, beelining for the bullpen’s coffee maker.
Prentiss glanced up, sharing a look with Morgan, and they both shrugged. 
“I don’t know how you can drink this stuff,” Prentiss said, leaning against the counter with her arms crossed. “Why don’t you just stop for coffee before you come in?”
Spencer kept his eyes on the cup into which he was stirring spoonful after spoonful of sugar. 
“I go out for coffee in the afternoon,” he replied evenly. Prentiss and Morgan exchanged another look, with the other man joining Prentiss and Spencer at the counter.
“Yeah, we noticed,” he said. “Must be really good coffee, in the years you’ve worked here you never used to go further than the cafe at the corner.”
Prentiss nodded in agreement. “And yet, you haven’t been there in two, three weeks, have you?”
Spencer turned, coffee held close to his chest as he looked between his coworkers.
“I thought there was a permanent moratorium on inter-unit profiling,” he frowned, lips drawn together in a slight pout.
“Not profiling,” Prentiss smiled.
“Just observing,” Morgan agreed.
“Hmph,” Spencer huffed, heading for his desk.
“So you're gonna take your favorite coworkers to your new go-to coffee spot?” Morgan called after him.
“I dunno,” Spencer replied, flipping open the first pile of his stack. “I’ll ask Hotch and JJ.”
“Oooh,” Morgan clutched a hand to his chest, as if injured, face drawn in overdramatic pain. “That hurts, Pretty Boy.”
The target of his teasing, however, was already working through the file before him. Morgan sighed, no more excuse available to keep him from doing the same.
At precisely 2:15pm, Spencer stood and gathered his things. He could feel Morgan and Prentiss studying him as he unclipped the gun holstered on his hip and carefully set the weapon in his bag. Slinging the strap over his head he settled it on his opposite shoulder, grabbed his scarf, and looped it around his neck.
“Off for coffee?” Prentiss asked, tone dripping with innocence.
“Yup,” Spencer replied shortly. “See you in a bit.”
“See ya,” she replied.
As the elevator doors slid shut before him, Spencer watched Prentiss slide her chair over to Morgan’s desk. They ducked their heads together, undoubtedly gossiping about Spencer’s mysterious new favorite coffee shop.
They were surprised, then, when he returned in almost half the usual time with no coffee in hand.
“Hey, kid,” Morgan leaned towards the small wall separating their desks. “You didn’t let our teasing stop you from getting your coffee, did you?”
“What?” Spencer looked up, as if Morgan had interrupted him in deep thought. Morgan raised one thick eyebrow. 
“Where’s your coffee?” Morgan asked. Spencer frowned slightly.
“Didn’t feel like it today.”
Morgan glanced towards Prentiss, who tilted her head. He raised and dropped one shoulder.
There was no way they could know that Spencer had hurried a few blocks down from the office, whether subconsciously speeding his steps or not. Neither Morgan nor Prentiss could realize the way Spencer looked through the window to the counter, ready to smile at the sight of a blonde barista with a tall mocha in her hand. They couldn’t know the way his stomach dropped and shoulders drooped when there was no bright blonde with a ready smile and sparkling hazel eyes behind the counter that day. Instead there was a stranger, a young man with annoyance written on his face. A cloud passed in front of the weak fall sun and before Spencer realized it he was walking back to the BAU. His mind was far away, wondering what would cause a break in such a strict routine. 
He hadn’t known Katie very long, but she was friendly, and she listened—really listened—when he spoke. She was so different from his world, so unusual, and yet so absolutely normal. There was much he knew about her: her determination, her punishing schedule, her devotion to cheerfulness, but there was so much more he didn’t know and wanted to find out, if only out of an academic curiosity to understand how and why she did what she did. Why she seemed to perk up when she spotted him on the sidewalk outside, why she let him ramble on far after anyone else would have told him to shut up. 
And why, why wasn’t she at the coffee shop?
Because she has a life, the little voice inside his head mocked. Because you are a customer who is nice to her and it is her job to keep you coming back for overpriced DC coffee.
Shaking his head, Spencer tried to put her from his mind and steeled himself for the inevitable tag team teasing that Morgan and Prentiss would subject him to.
Katie
I groaned curses at the sun as it found a gap in my curtains, slicing through my dark room as easily as any blade. 
Rolling over, the red LEDs of my clock told me it was far past time to attempt a shower and food, sick or not. I couldn’t really afford to be so late with my meds, but I hoped perhaps it would be an okay day and I could slip a few extra hours past my vertigo.
No such luck. I sat up slowly and the room tipped around me. It was a combination of floating and spinning while drunk, and it sent me stumbling to the bathroom on flimsy legs. It was like I had downed a bottle of jack and chased it with that soda from Willy Wonka & the Chocolate Factory that made people fly. 
I almost overshot the toilet but an iron grip on the cold porcelain kept me anchored as I heaved. There was nothing to throw up, but my body hadn’t gotten the message. Nearly twenty minutes passed before I allowed myself to slump back on the tile floor, sweat sticking hair to my forehead and the back of my neck. 
It was like I was on a teacup ride at the fair and it was slow at the moment, but could speed up again at any moment. I just prayed I’d be able to handle it when it did.
Somewhere in the other room my phone buzzed. I hadn’t thought to grab it in my mad rush for the bathroom, and at the moment I didn’t think I had the strength to retrieve it. It wasn’t hard to run through the people who might be contacting me. The only options were one of my bosses or Liz, and I didn’t feel like talking to them at the moment.
You can’t just isolate yourself when things get hard.
The voice in my head sounded a lot like my therapist from school. I sighed deeply, frustrated and tired, tipping my head back to rest on the glass around my shower.
“Right, shower,” I muttered. That was what I had originally intended to do when I got up. Moving slowly and carefully, breathing to steady myself, I flopped into the small tub and turned the shower on full spray, letting the water pepper across my skin.
Eventually I stripped off the tank top and shorts I had slept in, leaving them in a sodden heap near the drain, and grabbed the soap, scrubbing myself until the water started to run cold. After I was clean and all the soap suds had swirled down the drain I shut off the water and cautiously stood, white-knuckling the support bar I had installed in the shower after my first fall. 
The room didn’t want to stay still, but it had stopped rotating enough for me to step out of the shower, make my way to the towel rack, and wrap myself in a large, fluffy towel. 
Water dripped from my body as I padded out of the bathroom and into the kitchen, leaving wet footprints trailing the wooden floor behind me. I pulled a frosty gatorade from my fridge and a sleeve of saltines from my cabinet. Setting the sustenance on my bedside table, I dried off enough to keep my sheets dry and climbed back into bed, not bothering with pajamas this time.
Thankfully, I was able to keep some of the bland crackers and alarmingly blue liquid down. I downed my medication and sunk back into my pillows, even the little I had accomplished that day taking all my energy. 
Hopeful that I’d wake with the cold gone and my meds working, I began to doze, and the dozing deepened into a dreamless sleep.
My one sick day stretched into two, then three. Fighting one disease was hard enough, and it intensified even the smallest infection from an annoyance into a massive burden. On the third day my phone rang. The conversation with my boss from the diner was quick and professional. I understood that he needed reliable employees, but I had hoped the fact that I was never late and always gave as much notice as possible for my sick days as possible would buy me some leeway.
Apparently not.
I sighed, pinching the bridge of my nose as I snapped my phone shut.
It’s okay, I reasoned. I can pick up more shifts at the cafe and the bar. They’ve always paid better anyway.
Resting my head against the wall I studied my ceiling.
“What do I do, mom?” I whispered, closing my eyes.
“Not knowing when the dawn will come, I open every door.”
Emily Dickinson had been one of my mother’s favorites, and it was her voice I heard.
Right, I thought, steeling myself. What doors haven’t I tried yet?
Dragging my laptop onto my lap took more effort than perhaps it should have, but I managed it. 
Scholarships. 
Now that I had a full time work record to back me up, I might qualify for more money. And if I qualified for enough I could take the next step, instead of being stuck running in circles trying to earn enough over three jobs to pay for college by myself.
The sun had long since set on my third sick day when I finally shut my laptop and let sleep claim me once more. I now had a small spark of something to go with the stubborn determination my mother had instilled in me: hope.
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pandawritespoorly · 4 years
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With Time: Something Happened
Author’s Note: The doc for this is titled 'Drink some water you coward'. My friend needed to drink water but wouldn't, and I made a threat that I fulfilled. I won't say who I killed, but those of you who have been around long even may remember a tumblr post from long ago. (Heh heh, reblogged it to bring it back a few days ago)
Here's that story, which I can finally post now that With Time is over.
(Sorry for the angst. I'll post something fluffy soon.)
Summary: The team goes up against Hawkmoth, and something happens.
!!! Warnings: Character Death, Violence
It had been years. Years upon years of fighting against Hawkmoth. It had gotten bad enough that Adrien and Marinette had eventually needed to give their friends their miraculouses permanently.
It hadn’t been solely a bad thing of course. They’d been planning on doing it soon enough, but it’d happened sooner than they’d intended.
Of course, after spending a good six years - almost seven - Marinette and Adrien could not be ready for this day.
The final face off with Hawkmoth.
The man that had been terrorizing the heroes, the city, for years.
They’d tracked him down after learning of Mayura’s identity.
“How did I not know?” Chat Noir stares at the mansion he was raised in, “He’s my father! I grew up in the same building he was attacking the city from!”
“Adrien-” Ladybug begins.
“I’m supposed to be a hero! What kind of-”
“Adrien-” it’s Kit Mime this time, gripping his shoulder and turning the other boy to face him, “None of us blame you.”
“You should.”
“No, we shouldn’t. He kept it from the entire city, y’ couldn’t’ve known,” Tortue Verte cuts in.
“The entire city wasn’t living with him this whole time! For fuck’s sake, he attacked my school the most! He wasn’t even subtle!”
“Adrien, it’s not-” Honey Bee also tries to interrupt him.
“All those attacks where he or I was targeted! How could I not have realized-” gloved hands dig into blond hair, green eyes vacant.
“Chat-”
“My name literally means ‘dark butterfly’, I mean come on!”
“Adrien!” Ladybug snaps. She isn’t angry, just trying her best to reign him back in.
He pauses, taking a breath to steady himself.
“Kitten, none of us blame you,” Kit Mime keeps his own gloved hands on Chat Noir’s shoulders, “So you shouldn’t be blaming yourself.”
The hero looked doubtful, but didn’t respond.
“He’s right,” Ladybug comes to his side as well, hugging him tightly.
Doing so triggers a group hug among the heroes. There’s a lot of feelings towards what’s about to happen.
There’s a lot to process, but they didn’t have much time. They wanted to settle this as quickly as possible - both for Paris’ sake and to avoid Gabriel getting suspicious.
“Alright. Let’s go,” and Chat leads the charge into the house.
It’s time to end this.
---
Despite having hoped to take the man by surprise, he must have been clued in somehow. They burst into his lair to find it empty.
They tense, walking forward hesitantly and looking around cautiously.
“Where-” Honey begins to speak.
There’s a sound, quiet enough that only Kit and Chat hear it. They motion for silence and turn in the direction, night vision carefully scanning the area.
Honey Bee inhales sharply.
“This would be an ideal time to hand over your miraculouses.” a cold voice cuts through the silence.
The group turns to see Hawkmoth himself standing before them, sword drawn from his cane and pointed precariously near the heroine’s neck. She stands stiffly, hands raised slightly.
Low growls come from the two tallest boys, while Ladybug and Tortue shift to fighting positions.
“Give it up Gabriel,” Chat snarls.
“You’ve lost,” Kit Mime adds.
“It would seem I was correct to assume that Nathalie had been compromised,” the tip of the sword pushes further into Honey’s neck, and she tilts her head safely away.
“Gabriel Agreste, your reign of terror on Paris is over. Hand over your miraculous.” Ladybug holds out her hand, glaring at the monster before them.
“No. Not until I’ve completed my goal.”
“The consequences of any wish would be catastrophic. The world can’t afford your selfishness-”
“Selfish?!” The man roars, “You are the selfish ones! I only want what’s best for my family! What’s best for my son!” In his anger, he gestures carelessly and a pinprick of blood appears on Honey Bee’s neck as he speaks.
Chat Noir growls, snapping and swiping at the man, “What’s best for your son?! What’s best for your son?! How is terrorizing Paris supposed to help your son?!”
Taking the distraction, Honey Bee ducks and slides over to her other teammates. Tortue looks worriedly at her neck, but she smiles at him, “I’m fine,” she says quietly.
Kit Mime seems to disagree, scowling - a rare expression for him - and joining his friend in the barrage of attacks at the supervillain.
“Well,” Ladybug says, readying her yo-yo, “We do this like we always do…”
Honey Bee and Tortue Verte speak with her, readying their own weapons and dropping into offensive stances, “...together.”
The trio joins their teammates in the fight.
---
They didn’t think it was going to be this hard. Especially given that it was five to one.
Yet here they are. At least one and a half hours later, and the fight hadn’t gotten anywhere.
They’re exhausted.
Maybe it’s closer to two or three hours. None of them have really bothered to check the time, simply focussing on their goal, aiming to end this nightmare as soon as possible.
Hawkmoth swipes his sword at the spotted girl. She dances away to the best of her abilities, though she feels it makes contact anyways.
It wasn’t the first time, and she’d stopped checking once they’d all been false alarms.
Her suit is impenetrable after all.
This needed to end soon. The exhaustion of her team was palpable, but somehow Hawkmoth seemed fine.
Maybe he was just better at hiding it. Or he had more experience. The reason didn’t really matter to her anyways.
The team of five continues in their assault, their teamwork they’d built up on for the past five years shining through.
Still, it wasn’t a perfect art, and mistakes were bound to happen.
No one is quite sure how it happens, but the frenzy of movement halts when Hawkmoth wrenches Kit Mime toward him by the arm.
“Let him go,” Honey Bee growls.
“Give up your miraculouses.” It’s basically his mantra with how many times he’s said it now. He’s holding the fox hero to him tightly, gripping his neck from behind so that both miraculous holders are in clear sight.
“That’s not going to happen,” Chat repeats.
“This is your final warning,” Hawkmoth cautioned lowly, a hint of something in his voice.
He correctly takes their silent glares and battle stances as refusal.
The dark chamber is silent for a moment.
Five teenagers wait patiently for the next move.
A sickening crunch echoes through the room.
Even with most of them lacking night vision, their eyes have adjusted enough that they can see what happened.
Hawkmoth holds up Kit Mime by the neck, dangling the boy above the floor. The hero’s face is an unnatural color, and his feet kick uselessly at the floor, searching for traction.
His hands reach for the one that has crushed his throat, but the adult’s iron grip is too tight.
His teammates, friends, can only stand in horrified silence. The only sound is the ocaissonal scuffle of boots against the floor. The color that has appeared on his face is deepening, and his hands still claw at the one around his neck. His flute is on the floor, dropped in surprise when the moment came.
None of them are looking at any of that though.
It’s his eyes.
Kit- Claude’s eyes, normally bright and full of mirth are wide with fear.
Even through the worst attack, Kit Mime had been able to smile, keep things light and spirits up.
And now…
It’s when his eyes begin to glaze over, growing unfocused, that they break out of their trance.
Chat Noir’s and Honey Bee’s faces harden in resolve, both rushing forward.
Ladybug hears a furious ‘cataclysm’ and ‘venom’, which somewhat shakes her out of her oncoming attack. She can panic late, right now she has to…
What does she do?
Tortue isn’t doing well, hyperventilating beside her.
Kit Mime is still struggling in the villain’s grip, though his desperate kicks and gasps have become fainter, weaker.
The five of them couldn’t defeat Hawkmoth together, should she really let only two of them try alone? They need all the help they can get, right?
The heroine’s eyes dart back and forth, undecided. Comfort Tortue?
Help Chat and Honey with Kit?
Comfort Tortue?
Help Chat and Honey with K-
-it?
The moment of indecision costs her. In the time it takes Chat and Honey to cross the room, Hawkmoth grows impatient.
Tired of holding up the struggling boy, Hawkmoth tightens his grip on his sword, raises his hand, and runs it through the boy.
Honey and Chat can’t stop their momentum in time, Honey’s hand slides past the intended target, and she can’t pick herself off the floor, instead staring in horror at the scene above her.
The scene doesn’t last long.
Chat’s outstretched hand makes contact.
With an orange suit.
The darkness spreads like an inky disease across the brightly colored uniform. Shadowy tendrils make their way over it, spreading like a horrific wildfire and leaving nothing but ash and dust behind.
Chat Noir stares in terror at his gloved hand, now coated in dust that looked too soft for something so nauseating.
Reality chooses this moment to resume its normal speed. In comparison to the last eternal minute or two, everything feels like double speed.
Honey Bee manges to put together enough thoughts to hit her venomed hand to their foe’s leg, and stands to take the miraculous.
Chat hasn’t moved.
Tortue is barely breathing with how badly he’s panicking.
And Ladybug?
Ladybug defaults to her usual solution.
“Miraculous Ladybug.”
Claude’s body reappears right where it had been previously. He falls to the ground, the other heroes nearby follow him, too exhausted to do anything else.
After a moment they’re all far too aware of the fact that he isn’t breathing.
“Miraculous Ladybug.”
He remains still.
“Miraculous Ladybug.”
Nothing. She’s beginning to feel dizzy.
“Miraculous Ladybug.”
Why isn’t it working?
“Miraculous Ladybug!”
Why isn’t he coming back?!
“Miraculous Ladybug!”
This wasn’t supposed to happen.
“Miraculous Ladybug!!”
How had this happened?
“Miraculous Ladybug!!!”
She feels sick.
“MIRACULOUS LADYBUG!”
Still nothing.
Her shouts become a repetitive echo, ringing through the terrible chamber. What else can she do? She’s the leader. She’s the one who fixes everything.
So why isn’t everything fixed?! Of the team, she’s the only one still speaking. The only one still standing.
Until she isn’t anymore.
The others look up after her quiet, pleading calls go silent, soon followed by a thud.
Against a surface other than her bright red suit, the alarming amount of blood flowing from a distressingly large gash in her side is hard to miss.
---
When Felix walks into the hospital room he does not know what to expect. He had known they were going after Hawkmoth, so the fact that Adrien had sent him a text with nothing but the words ‘we’re here’ and the hospital’s address and a room number concerned him.
Still, he did not want to jump to conclusions.
Perhaps Hawkmoth had been critically injured.
He repeated that thought over and over because the alternative-
No, there is no alternative. Hawkmoth is injured and his friends are fine.
He loops that thought.
Hawkmoth is injured and his friends are fine.
Hawkmoth is injured and his friends are fine.
Hawkmoth is injured and his friends are fine.
Hawkmoth is injured and his friends are fine.
Hawkmoth is injured and his friends are fine.
Hawkmoth is injured and his friends-
He walks into the room, hearing the steady beeping of the heart monitor and turns to see…
Marinette in the bed. All manner of tubes and wires attached to her.
When he manages to rip his eyes away, his fears do not cease.
Adrien is staring at Marinette, though his eyes are far away.
Allegra is barely holding herself together.
And Allan…
Felix hadn’t seen that look on Allan’s face since- since-
Something is missing.
Someone is missing.
“Where is Claude?” He barely manages to keep his voice steady.
Those three words are all it takes.
The Allegra’s final threads snap and she loses the little composure she already had. She falls to her knees like beggar and sobs.
The look on Allan’s expression gets worse, and he stops breathing momentarily, and even afterwards his breaths are irregular.
Adrien is gripping Marinette’s hand like a lifeline, head buried in the sheets of the hospital bed as he sits beside it.
No one speaks.
The picture is becoming very clear, but Felix just will not accept it.
Surely Claude is just somewhere else.
Grabbing something perhaps?
Another sob from Allegra is all it takes to dash all his hopes. Anyone with half a mind can see the only answer to this question.
Something happened.
The mission went wrong.
Claude is gone.
---
I'm just going to leave this here. No more words from me.
Reminder: This is very much not canon to my With Time storyline.
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lawonderlandwriter · 4 years
Text
So here is all that has happened and all that I know and all of my thoughts on this intra-ship-tag war. For anyone who cares to read.
I hadn't written a new fic in a while. Not since Season 8 was airing, so I was not really aware of what was going on until one fic in particular where Jon has an abusive past, started getting negative attention. Most people will know which fic I’m talking about (for the purposes of this post, I’ll refer to it as FIC1). 
I had come across the fic randomly and skimmed it, deciding it seemed interesting and I would read it fully when I had the chance. Then I saw the hate the fic was getting and I read it fully immediately. I thought the fic was incredibly well written and wasn’t in any way a Jon-hate fic. Some parts of the fic I even was a tiny bit uncomfortable for the way it portrayed Dany, but I was too interested to let those parts get to me and I have since kept up with it and plan to read it until it’s conclusion. 
When I saw the hate on FIC1, I posted about it. How I thought the fic didn’t deserve the hate it was getting and how I thought people were casting judgement without really reading it, just commenting based on what they had heard about it and the author. 
This got me some hate but I stood by my fellow author. 
This was when I first heard of the “Discord” group. 
Everything I knew about the discord was hearsay as I am not and have never been involved in it. I heard the discord was all men who stanned Jon Snow and hate-commented on any fic they didn't like and had been policing the tag since basically the S8 finale. As I had seen hate comments on fics with my own eyes, I had no reason to question this. 
Especially when fics began showing up in the tag of Dany getting raped in response to each time FIC1 would update. Comments on those fics were sarcastic and crude and supportive. I have never used A03 as a social media platform so I was not and still am not very familiar with usernames. 
More accusations flew around that those responsible for these fics and fics that plagairised FIC1 stemmed from the Discord. I had no reason to believe otherwise (but I also had no reason to believe it was all Discord people either which I should not have so readily believed).
More fics were posted by authors I read and respect and more hate was flung around. Again, the Discord was blamed, perhaps* wrongly. My prejudice against this supposed discord group grew.
Then I started writing “Queens Always Have the Last Word” (QAHTLW). At first, the response was positive - everyone seemingly hates Sansa. A few complained I wasn’t changing Jon’s general S8 demeanor which annoyed me. I had made it perfectly clear in the tags that the story would focus on Dany - and I had already written a fic for Jon where he was the star and got the last word. This was her turn. 
I did not and still do not consider it a Jon-hate fic or that the fic is an attack on Jon’s character in any way. I kept Jon essentially close to his S8 self but added a bit more to him - additions I thought were positive.
But my fic was somehow labeled “Jon Snow hate.”  
Some people in comments on my and other fics have said something about S8 fics being “serious” fics, hence why I guess my QAHTLW was labeled “Jon hate.”
For one, this to me this seemed an incredibly arbitrary rule and it still seems incredibly arbitrary. That S8 fics HAVE to be “serious”. Why is it just S8 fics?
For those wondering, my understanding of a “serious” fic is a fic that HAS to feature Jon and Dany as being 100% equal to each other and the narrative HAS to treat them as 100% equal and be kind to both of them. 
If a fic is not considered “serious”, it is okay for Jon and Dany to not be 100% equal or treated equal by the narrative - one example of “non-serious” fics in the Jonerys A03 tag were harem fics. 
At least, that’s what I’ve been told by commenters - harem fics are okay to be in the Jonerys tag on A03 (even though they are incredibly unequal in regards of who gets to sleep with who) because apparently “no one takes them seriously.”
This is what I have been told: “No one takes harem fics seriously.”
So, because of this new standard set forth by people who either had been policing the tag, or people trying to explain the motives behind people policing the tag, a line became drawn. 
Those of us who don’t write or read harem fics, we (I, rather, but others likely as well) began to see this line as “Jon Snow stans” and “Daenerys stans”. Because it’s highly unlikely many Dany fans would want to read fics where Jon just gets to smash everyone in ASOIAF.
So then I had a pretty damning encounter with someone in the comments of Chapter 4 of QAHTLW. The hate started off right out the gate:
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This comment was a lot of things at once. 1) It cemented for me this weird divide between “Tumblr” (“Tumblrinas” as some call us) writers and “others” (I assumed all the “others” were Discord users). 2) It cemented for me that all the “others” were exclusively Jon fans, due to the accusation here that I don’t care about Jon, and 3) it was the first time I had been told to literally stop writing and leave to community. 
I reacted immediately. The encounter was petty (yes, I was petty too, fully admit it) and went on for several comments. Then my hate commenter responded with this:
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I had seen that “reeeeeeee” before. Just a day before actually, here on Tumblr. It wasn't a post of mine, but a response to one of my mutual’s posts. The person who reblogged with the “reeeeeeeee” comment left a nasty note about Dany going crazy - it was clearly a comment meant to be offensive to Dany stans. I reblogged said post and blocked the user who had made the “reeeeee” comment.
So because my hate commenter on A03 used the same language as the Tumblr reblogger, I called him out on it, thinking I knew who he was. We went back and forth on that for another round of comments, and then he sent me this:
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1) The user claims he is not the same person from Tumblr, 2) he admits to being in the “Discord” group, 3) He admits the Tumblr user I had blocked posts things from Tumblr to share with the Discord group for the purposes of making fun of us, and 4) he admits to using a “throwaway” account on A03 in order to avoid being banned by the site, should his comments get reported. 
Because of this encounter, I felt I had enough information to pass blanket judgement on the Discord group. To me, because of this person’s comments, the Discord was a place where male Jon Snow fans hung out and talked shit about Dany stans from Tumblr. 
And because this person had said things from Tumblr were shared (and laughed at) on the Discord, and because the very next day I posted a link on my Tumblr to QAHTLW, I felt I had made a connection. 
To me, it seemed like this hate comment stemmed from the Discord and was encouraged because of my reblogging of the Tumblr post. 
These comments on my fic felt like retaliation for something that had happened on Tumblr. 
It felt calculated. It felt systematic. It felt purposeful. It felt really fucking creepy. 
I reported it to A03.
A little while after the encounter, I got a final comment from this person. He had deleted his “throwaway” account and whatever other account he had been using, leaving me this on anon:
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While I did think him a jerk for all the things he had said, I can respect this. Thank you whoever you are for realizing you were being a bully. My comments to you were rude as well, I know. 
But he admitted his fault in instigating the argument and said he would stop. So, I can only say, respect. 
Still, though one person had left this “tag policing” behind, it had opened a can of worms. Again, he had admitted to the discord sharing and laughing at shit from Tumblr. And so far as I knew, he only found my fic because of the Discord (may or may not be true, but that’s how it came across to me at the time).  
My view of the Discord was lowered further. 
Then, another "problematic” Jonerys fic was posted. We’ll call this FIC2. 
I didn’t think anything of it, honestly. I really, seriously didn’t. 
It was by an author I love to death so naturally, anything she writes, I excitedly reblog. Which I did. I didn't do so with any kind of snide remark, I wasn’t thinking about the fic’s treatment of Jon (because I didn’t think the fic would treat Jon badly...and it didn’t), I didn’t think about the other characters this fic involved. Nothing. 
I was seriously just fucking reblogging a fic from a friend, and then of course left a generic “loved it, this was hot!” comment on the fic on A03. 
And I got hate for that. Surprise Surprise:
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This is two comments from, I’m assuming, two different users. Both were on anon. Once again, we were called “Tumblrinas”.
But a new level to this creepiness was added. 
Someone started using my name on A03 as their anon name. 
(The above comment thread has since been deleted but I screenshot it before the delete because I wanted to report to A03 - using someone else’s name and/or misrepresenting another user is very much in violation of A03s Terms of Service).
So that was the first fic this happened on but this person from FIC2 has since been going on all kinds of Jonerys fics on A03 leaving more comments, calling himself “LAStoryWriterAlex’s Rules and Regulations Enforcer.”
This was on another “problematic” fic (I won’t call it Jon hate because FFS it’s NOT Jon hate!):
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Along with leaving a sarcastic remark about how I and my “crew of miscreants” apparently have now made a rule that “you can only leave praise in comments”, this person also called the fic he was commenting on “garbage”. So, rude. 
Then he left this on a RAPE fic:
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He did not call the RAPE fic “garbage” and even used “please” and “thank you”.
Because this all seemed to stem from my reblog of FIC2 on Tumblr, I again assumed that this person, my “rules and regulations enforcer,” was from the Discord and had only seen my reblog of FIC2 because someone had snapshotted it and shown it to the Discord. 
I admit, it was wrong of me to assume this. I have no way of knowing if this person is from the Discord or not. But because of my last encounter, and as this was another thing that seemed to start from Tumblr, this is what I assumed. 
Then I posted my Dandry fic, Retrograde. 
You all know what happened with that.
In all honesty, I didn't write this to “piss off the incels”. (I also apologize for calling the entire Discord incels. I now know a few of you and realize this was a mistake). I wrote this fic because the idea came to me, it excited me, and once I started writing, I couldn’t stop. I was having fun with it. I’ve never shipped Dany/Gendry before, but since 8x04, this fic was always an idea in the back of my mind and I himhawed with writing it, mostly because I was busy with other things, but I worked on it. And when I got the first chapter done I posted.
And all hell broke loose. 
At first I had anon commenting enabled, but then disabled it because I just couldn’t fucking take it. It was exhausting. 
I got kind comments, I got neutral comments, I got rude comments, I got people arguing with each other in the comments, and then I got just fucked up comments -
Comments about me, my family, my weight:
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In short, my parents should have aborted me brutally, my mother is a dirty whore, I’m cancer (not the zodiac sign I’m guessing), and I’m allegedly fat. 
I admit, the fat one got to me. I’m not fat, never have been overweight. But I do occasionally obsess about my weight, so that one got a reaction from me and I know, I know it shouldn’t have. But I made note anyway, of the fact that all my profiles are linked and there are pics of me in existence online that prove I’m not fat - I wanted to prove I’m not fat. My vanity got the better of me and so invited people to find pictures of me. Which had certain consequences I’ll discuss in a moment. 
I also got fucked up comments about Gendry and Dany - Dany in that apparently she’s a whore, and Gendry because he’s an uneducated bastard. Which, way to go elitist scum. I really don’t feel bad about saying that. These comments are elitist and misogynistic. Really makes me wonder what people would think of Jon if the show hadn’t made him legitimate. Would they all still stan him then? Do they only like him because he was heir to the throne??
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Anyway, that as just the first two pages! (There were more supportive comments than not - I think) but there are now 8 pages of comments. So you can only guess what the rest of those 8 pages contain. 
I got all kinds of anons on Tumblr because of this. Some who supported my fic - thank you - and others who spewed the same kind of drivel from A03. I’m a whore, cunt, dumb bitch, awful writer, etc. 
Then, because I had exposed myself and made note of all my profiles being linked (which I had initially done so friendly A03 people could find my Tumblr if they didn’t already connect the two), I started getting anons commenting on, of all things, my fucking forehead, which apparently is larger than normal? Whatever, fuck you, I think I’m adorable, so there. 
I got an anon recently talking about the connection myself and others had made between the Discord and the revenge rape fics.
I agreed with anon in my response, that it was wrong for me to blame the Discord for fics like the beastiality fic in the tag. I pointed out however, that people were not attacking that writer the way they’ve been attacking me and others.
Again, it was wrong of me to assume all people in the Discord were leaving the hate comments. I admit that and I apologize for it. 
But I have proof (above) that at least one of the people policing the tag was from the Discord. And I have since had reason to believe some in the Discord still police the tag and do so quite hatefully. 
I was thinking about this most recent anon a lot since I got it and answered it. And then today when I was cursing the tag...
I came across one of the Modern Targcest fics. 
And I saw red. 
I clicked on the A03 “Collection” and skimmed through. Many of the fics were ones I had already seen/skimmed or read. But looking at the collection as a whole, I got an impression of the tag. 
And yes, I admit, my impression did not apply to all fics. And even the fics it did apply to, I should have never called out. 
I wanted to make a point, and I went about it the wrong way. 
The point I had wanted to make was that all the people policing the tag were hypocrites because these DubCon fics (some are less consensual than others) had relatively low engagement compared to my fic which was 100% consensual.
This still is something that bothers me, honestly, though it is through no fault of the authors of these DubCon fics. 
I just really hate that those fics are left relatively in peace and a fic like mine is not. Do I want those fics to get more hate? No. I just want the hate on mine and others like it to stop.
But I did go about it the wrong way. 
Certain people felt I misrepresented certain fics when I made THIS post. I roped all the fics into one category, and made an assumption about them all and that was wrong. 
Also, some people thought by making this post, I was saying that these authors “like” rape or are real life rape apologists, which was not my intention either. 
I still believe some of these fics are on a rape-spectrum. I’m sorry, that’s just what DubCon is. Not all of these DubCon fics are rapey, but some of them are. 
And it’s fine if that’s what you want to write and read. Really, it is. As I’ve stated, fanfic is a SAFE place for people to explore taboos, like rape and incest. Just because we read and write about it, doesn’t mean we would ever do it in real life. In fic, it’s fine though. 
And I apologize if my post came off as kink-shaming. Not my intention. 
Again, my intention was merely to point out the discrepancy in reaction to these fics because to me, a DubCon fic is more problematic than a cheating fic. My opinion. You may not share my opinion. 
Really my intention here was for people to realize that, if you can turn a blind eye to DubCon (something I find pretty problematic), then you should also be able to spare the same courtesy to other fics, like cheating, cuck, or “Jon Snow hate fics” - (and it’s always someone’s opinion whether or not the fic is truly Jon Snow hate).
If Dany fans can make it through the tag without commenting on some of the more extreme DubCon fics, and through the Harem fics, then Jon Snow fans should be able to make it through the tag without commenting on the cheating and the cuck fics. (and if Jon Snow fans can pass the harem fics and not think anything of them and not hate comment, they should be able to pass by the cuck fics too!!) - cuz I don’t want people to assume I’m accusing all Jon fans of liking those harem fics. Probably many of you don’t. But if you’ve left hate on a cuck fic, but not a harem fic, that’s hypocritical. It really is. 
If you’ve policed the tag and harassed an author for “punishing” Jon in their fic telling the author that they’re not really a Jon fan or not really a Jonerys fan, but you haven’t done the same in a harem (or similar) fic and stuck up for say, Dany, claiming the author isn’t a real Dany/Jonerys fan, you’re a hypocrite. 
Because as I’ve pointed out, Jon and Dany aren’t at all treated the same or equal in those kinds of fics. 
This isn't to say those fics are wrong, or shouldn’t be written, or don’t belong in the tag. It’s just to say if you give them a pass, you must also give a pass to everyone else. 
You can’t just pick and choose which “unequal” Jonerys fics are allowed and which aren’t. 
Which S8 fix-it-fics are allowed and which aren’t.
Which fics are “serious” and which are “non-serious”. (Many of the harem/breeding fics have Jon/Dany as the main pairing!)
Which are written by “real” Jonerys fans and which aren’t.
You don’t get to just make shit up. 
Yes, some Dany stans are angry at Jon and want to punish him in their fics for S8 and make him sit by and watch while Dany hooks up with Daario or resurrected Drogo or Gendry or whoever.
Some Jon stans want Jon to breed Missandei and Sansa while still being married to Dany because they want to make Dany barren in their narrative even though in actual ASOIAF canon, she’s probably not.
It’s called, Deal with it. 
Again, no one here is on the “right” side. No one should be policing the tag. Period. 
Also, side note, no one should be insulting authors looks or using the public photos authors use as a way to harass them. This isn’t only happening to me. If we post photos of our lives, it’s because we want to share with people. It’s not an invitation for you to use that against us. Don’t be fucking creepy. And if you know if someone being fucking creepy, tell them to stop!
129 notes · View notes
scripting-life · 4 years
Text
FFVII: returning to my first love
 *peeks out of the corner of my lurking spot*
Hello? Anybody out there? It’s only been, oh you know, four-ish years since the last time I’ve posted anything here. I apologize in advance for anybody who’s still following me from my Castle days. If you couldn’t tell from my extended absence, I’ve mostly moved on. Castle and Beckett were fantastic characters that let me to play with some deep-dive analyses, and Castle will always hold a special place in my heart as my comfort show and my first real and extended experience with online fandom. I’ll always be grateful to the community I’ve had the joy of interacting with (or, the community with which I’ve had the joy of interacting, as Castle would correct me my dangling preposition).
I honestly didn’t think I would ever have reason to come back to Tumblr after Castle ended. But the FF7 Remake has returned me to my very first love--when I was young and innocent and before I knew anything about OTPs or ship wars. I’ve been back lurking for several months now and seeing all the fanart/fanfics and fun theories and analyses has reignited my enthusiasm for the FF7 franchise. It’s also fun coming back to this franchise with a more mature understanding of the themes/concepts that completely flew over my head as a young preteen.
(This ended up being super long, so the rest is below the cut to spare everyone the pain of scrolling. Apparently, my rambling tendencies have not changed at all. lol.)
When FF7R was officially announced (five freaking years ago!), I was filled with apprehension. FF7 was my first taste of a “grown-up” game. I was 11 and played my brother’s copy of the OG on PC in 1-2 hours spurts on the weekends when I visited his apartment. It took me months, if not years, to finish the game (I ended up stealing his copy to play on our computer at home...lol), and I was so blown away by it. I remember the exact moment I finished it and how I was literally shaking as I watched the ending FMV.
Later, when I found out my brother had a copy of FF8 (my poor brother was so accommodating to his annoying little sister...haha), I was so excited to play, in large part because I thought it would continue the story of FF7. Young, naive me didn’t understand the numbering conventions of Final Fantasy titles. I was madly theorizing and breaking my brain trying to find connections between the two games’ plots and had literally played through more than half the game before I finally realized the storyline of FF8 had absolutely nothing to do with FF7. I was sorely disappointed, and I think that has somewhat tainted my appreciation of future titles. Not to say I haven’t enjoyed the subsequent FF titles, but I think a little part of me is always comparing them to that first experience of wonder and awe that I had with FF7.
I discovered fanfiction in my teens and starting writing FF7/Cloti fics in college. Aside from interacting with a few fic writers at the time, I was not involved in any online communities, so I kept myself pretty free of any ship war drama and the like. When I did research for my fics, I’d sometimes see shipping sites and theories where I didn’t always understand the logic of how certain conclusions were reached, but frankly, I didn’t much care and didn’t realize that Clerith vs. Cloti was such a touchy subject. I was peripherally aware that some sort great LTD war was waging, of course, but it didn’t really touch me. I stayed in my Cloti shipping/fic-writing lane and was probably a lot happier for it. And, to be honest, based on FFN’s listings for FF7, I felt like I always saw a bunch of Sephiroth/Cloud fics and thought that was just as popular as the more conventional ships.
Graduating college and entering “real life” pretty much ended my FF7 fanfic-writing journey. In the intervening years between college and the release of FF7R, I haven’t gone back to the OG too much. I’ve played almost all the Final Fantasy games since then, and I always enjoy getting my FF7 crew fix when I play the non-canon mobile games or the Kingdom Hearts franchise. But FF7 was a happy part of my teenage years, and I was content to think on it with sweet nostalgia.
Remakes, in recent experience (*cough cough* Disney, why?), have been hit or miss, with a lot of misses. It’s hard to strike a good balance between catering to nostalgia and delivering a fresh product, never mind the change in social mores through the decades. I was so afraid FF7R would screw up my memories, especially since I wasn’t the biggest fan of Advent Children. The graphics were great and the action scenes were fun, but the story felt like a let-down. Cloud, in particular, felt so different (and yes, moody) from where we left him after the OG. I understand now that a lot of his character motivation was better explained in the On The Way to a Smile novels, but back then, I just felt like AC came out of nowhere. 
Btw, because I see this question a lot on other blogs when I’m lurking, I’ve ALWAYS thought that it was very clear in AC--even without reading anything else--that the reason for Cloud’s depression was due to guilt and not because he was pining for Aerith. The only reason I didn’t like his characterization in AC was because it felt like it came out of nowhere since AC is set 2 years after OG and by the end of the OG, he seemed to be in a pretty decent place mentally and emotionally. That being said, I can absolutely understand why some traumas resurface years after the originating incident and how times of peace might actually be worse because he is no longer solely focused on saving the world, but I was just surprised and a little bummed that this was the direction the devs chose to take AC at the time. Now that I’m older, I do better appreciate the complexities of Cloud’s mental state and the fact that they depicted a hero with lingering mental health issues is actually pretty awesome. I’m drawn to characters that have flaws--sometimes serious ones--but try their best anyway. Hence, why why Tifa Lockhart and Kate Beckett are some of my all-time favorites.
Anyhow, that didn’t stop me from pre-ordering FF7R, of course. I avoided reading any reviews as I didn’t want my first impressions to be swayed, and boy, was I happy that I went in mostly blind. That sense of awe really almost felt like playing the OG for the first time again, but somehow more. The combat system is incredibly fun and the world-building is nothing short of incredible. The variety and abundance of NPCs gives the game so much flavor and the locations have been rendered so well. As I’m going through areas like the Sector 7 train station and Wall Market and Aerith’s house, I can almost superimpose the layout from the OG in my head, but now it’s in 3D and so rich and full. It’s obvious that a lot of attention was paid to details, and I love all the head-nods and homages to the OG.
And oh, the characters!
This is the Cloud I’ve been wanting to see in glorious HD and the Cloud I remember from the original game: all awkward, dorky trying to be cool, socially inept, mentally unstable, abrasive-at-times, reluctant to act depending on who’s asking, wannabe hard-ass who’s actually a big softie inside Cloud. I remember reading an article a few years back about how the devs basically redid Cloud for the Remake because they wanted him to go back to his dorky roots--which ends up making him closest to his personality in the OG than his appearances in other franchises--and I was SOOOO incredibly happy to hear that. I was so sick of the way Cloud was constantly depicted as this cool, broody McBrood in his cameos when he was a pretty big dork in the OG. (Anybody remember him doing squats in the Highwind when Tifa says it’ll be lonely with just the two of them and Cloud responds that he’ll make enough noise to make up for it? Like I said: cute, but a dork.)
I WAS surprised by how comfortable and sweet and touchy (so very very touchy) the devs made him with Tifa from the beginning. That initial scene of Cloud being such a smooth operator giving Tifa the flower had my jaw-dropping and every single flirty interaction after that (and there are many) had my Cloti heart overflowing in shock and bliss. Throughout most of my years as a Cloti shipper, even though I believed Cloti was supported by canon and pretty clearly together, I was also under the impression--mistakenly or not--that Cloti was the minority ship. So for Square Enix to make it so blatantly obvious that Cloud is really into Tifa at such an early stage has been an unexpected gift.
Also, they’re just really hot together. (Clotiscrew tunnel--be still my heart!)
As for Tifa...oh, what wonderful character development we’ve already gotten for Tifa. Tifa has always been one of my all-time favorite characters ever since reading her character blurb in the OG game manual. Initially, as a child, it was because I saw so much of myself in her. She was outwardly bright and optimistic, but tended to hide all of her stronger feelings inside. She fought with her fists, and for someone who was a tomboy growing up who liked playing contact sports with the boys, I connected with her in a way that I had never been able to connect with other female protagonists who were primarily back-row specialists. (I also aspired to grow to her listed height of 5′4″, which alas, did not happen...lol).
I love how the Remake delves into more of Tifa’s moral conflict between the destruction that she causes as part of Avalanche and needing to do something to stop Shinra, and yes, even seeking revenge. They touched on this in the OG lightly, but the Remake really hammers it home. She’s perhaps the most conflicted character in terms of motivation in Part 1. That scene with the Shinra manager on the train is actually one of my favorite scenes of her because it highlights that tension. The elevator scene, if you opted for it instead of the stairs (or if you did one, saved, and reloaded to do the other one, like me), is also underrated in terms of how much it reveals about Tifa’s inner struggle.
On this point, I also appreciate that the Remake has the characters reflecting on the damage they’ve both indirectly and directly inflicted--the Avalanche team all do this to a certain degree. In particular, Jessie’s constant inability to figure out what she’d done wrong with the bomb to cause such a massive explosion and her remaining feelings of guilt during her death scene (”they were my victims” ouch!) were heart-breaking.
Aerith’s depiction was another pleasant surprise. I’ll be honest; I didn’t much like her in the OG. She was too pushy and willfully oblivious to the point of being mean at times. In the Remake, much of her sometimes too in-your-face playfulness was kept--perhaps still a little too much--but I appreciate the nuance that they gave her. The train graveyard scene tells the player that she didn’t have friends growing up, and I think that partially contributes to her lack of social tact at times. The other factor that gives her personality more nuance is the hint of special knowledge that affects how she interacts with the rest of the group. It gives her additional hidden motivation and adds to her mystery for new players while simultaneously pulling at the heartstrings for old players who get the impression that Aerith is somehow aware--to a certain, unknown extent--of her own fate. 
I also appreciate that Aerith is more grounded as a real person than as some sort of revered being. I do blame AC for some of that. When you have the power to cure a fatal disease from the afterlife and send the dead back to life, it gets into some godlike territory. Maybe it’s a fair depiction of her powers as a Cetra, but I just get the feeling that Aerith herself wouldn’t really appreciate being made into this goddess-like figure. Remember that her character blurb in the original game manual implied that she was more interested in earthly things (i.e. the love triangle) than in exploring her own powers. I personally think that Aerith used the “love triangle” in the OG as a form of escapism from the weight of her burdens rather than genuine interest, and I just think she’d want to be thought of as a person rather than as a god. One of my favorite scenes for Aerith is when she and Cloud are traversing the rooftops and she slips on the ladder, letting out a simple, “Shit.” It humanizes her in a way that combats some of the ways she’s sort of been deified in the last 23 years. Also, Aerith wielding a folding chair like it’s WWE never fails to make me laugh. Overall, she just comes off as a more reasonably flawed and--as a result, to me--a more likeable character in the Remake, and I do very much like her now.
Barret is pretty much the exact larger than life character I imagined in my head, only somehow even better, and I really love how expressive and emotional his eyes and facial expressions are. His scenes with Marlene are truly the cutest thing ever. Red XIII is a big, furry ball of sass, and I need so much more of him in the coming parts (Cosmo Canyon still wrecks me to this day). The interactions between the Wedge, Biggs, and Jessie are incredible, and they really feel like people who’ve been friends and basically each other’s family for years. The Turks and Rufus are pretty much as cool as I imagined them in the OG.
There’s still so much more I haven’t even started touching on about the Remake, and I think that’s why I’m finally posting this now. I just can’t contain my love for this game any more, and I really really need a place to express myself. I don’t know if anybody is still reading, but I appreciate having the opportunity to finally gush about this game and franchise that I’ve loved so much for pretty much two-thirds of my life.
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