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leos-regression-cove · 2 years

Text

The New Sibling

Chapter 17. Gardening with Mummy

Synopsis: Loki's having trouble adjusting to having his boot gone, so even though he should be cleaning the house, he's instead joining Mobius and Sylvie in the garden.

Word count: 4,050

Stand Alone?: previous 4 chapters may be helpful

Warnings: diapers

Notes: This chapter was originally supposed to be another early bonding chapter placed sometime around Mobius' trip to the doctor but it got pushed down and pushed down and now... it doesn't really work the way it was originally intended. Hopefully it doesn't feel too out of place and still works well.

Read it on AO3!

Today was really something special, both in good and bad ways for Loki and Mobius. Thor and Sylvie had very loudly told the littles upfront it was clean-house-day, which was never good, but it was also the day Loki got to stop wearing his boot.

Despite that, it was obvious once the work started that Loki was having trouble with his headspace and balancing it with the sensation of being able to walk again.

He tried to toddle, following around mummy or Thor as they worked, but he seemed to be tripping over his own feet.

Loki squatted while holding out the dustpan for Thor to sweep into. He was distracted, but Thor didn’t mind, because at least he was holding it steady and that was all that mattered.

After sweeping, Thor got out a mop and bucket, adding some soap and setting the bucket into the sink.

“Are you going to help me with this one, too, brother?” he asked as he turned the tap on.

But Loki was too busy to answer, grabbing and inspecting all the fruit in the fruit bowl on the counter, an actually rather helpful task.

“It’s not quite lunchtime yet, little one,” Thor reminded the young toddler (at most). “I think maybe we should set you outside with mummy and Mobius. She could use a tall little one like you to help her hang the laundry.”

Loki stuck out his bottom lip to pout as Thor picked him up and slung him over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes, a position that had become even more common than usual in recent days.

The sunshine beat down heavily through the trees in the late morning, filling the small home’s yard with golden light. The grass was still dewy, and the sun had just risen above the high treetops despite being nearly perpendicular to the ground.

“Do we have another baby joining us?” Sylvie asked, peeking out from behind a flowy crib sheet.

Loki made a loud whine in response, still not able to see her as his top half was draped over Thor’s back.

“Yeah, he just needs a little break.”

“You can just set him down over there.”

Loki, no longer relegated to staring at the floor or his brother’s backside, was able to finally take in what the situation was.

Normally, when it was him and mummy in the yard, there was a simple quilt set out with some toys, but now things looked very different. The quilt was gated, just like the living room, and a foldable bassinet was set out, complete with plenty of soft baby toys.

Loki’s normal garden toys were nowhere to be seen, and neither were Sylvie’s regular rules about what toys were allowed outside.

As he was set down in the play area, he realized that…this was maybe not that bad. The plush grass sank below him and he absently batted at a couple of the toys until he remembered Mobius’ presence.

Mobius had on some brown, corduroy overalls that looked like a bear with a white peter-pan collared shirt underneath. How he managed to keep it from being grass stained while lying in and exploring the outdoors was a mystery beyond comprehension.

Loki twisted around, entirely ready to instigate some drama, just a little bit. Attempt to test how far he could push the little until Sylvie noticed or if he could cause a meltdown, and if he was really lucky, maybe even a tantrum. That would really be something.

Loki always had these thoughts, but when he actually looked at the content baby-- on his own, lying on his belly and flipping through a soft board book while lying on the blanket with a comfy stuffed animal under his chest and a pacifier in his mouth…-- he realized that Mobius didn’t actually really care about whatever he was scheming. The little was not especially emotive if he was suspicious of something. He hadn’t even really looked at Loki aside from a passing glance since the older little had been set in.

Loki scooted forward, behind Mobius, pretending to be cautiously trying to get a glimpse of what the book could be about, but as he did so, Mobius quickly whipped his head around, giving Loki an anxious stare.

Loki, at a loss for what else to possibly do, poked the baby, just around the hip, enough to elicit a little crinkle from the plastic waistband of Mobius’ diaper.

Mobius tried to look at the spot Loki had touched and seemingly made a decision. He rolled over onto his back and gave Loki a playfully cautious smile, letting his hands fall by his ears and out of the way, like he did when he slept.

Loki smiled slightly as he understood that the little was opening up to play and touched the baby again experimentally: He patted Mobius’ tummy, lightly pressing and tapping, fascinated as the baby squirmed and wiggled and peeped little noises.

Sylvie pretended she wasn’t watching, even though she definitely was, trying not to say “aw,” out loud for fear it would frighten Loki away.

He then tried something his brother often did during play times like this; an experiment to see how Mobius would react. He gently tried to tickle around the little’s armpits, ready to pull away at a moment’s notice if the reaction was negative.

Mobius clenched, but giggled. It was a bright, happy laugh-- and loud, too! Not the quiet chuckle Loki had heard him make before. In fact, it was possibly the first noise Loki had heard him make that didn’t sound a bit strangled and as if he was trying to force himself to be quiet. That was… his voice, and Loki was hearing it for the first time. A genuine giggle without fear or restraint.

It made him grin, if only for a second.

Loki suddenly stopped as Mobius began to rub the side of his nose. “Mumumum?” he asked.

Sylvie had finished with the laundry and was now scooping some dirt, ready to plant some flowers while listening to her babies play, entirely at peace, but she set down the trowel to check up on them. “What’s up?” she asked Loki, resting her arms and cheek on the side of the fence.

Mobius was resting on his side, propped up on one arm, face still red from laughter as he continued to paw at his face.

Loki pointed at him, as if Sylvie didn’t see.

“Aw, honey, he’s a happy baby.-- Aren’t you? Are you a happy baby?” she asked Mobius.

He cooed up at her tireldy, still catching his breath with a big smile and then squeaked with laughter again when she tickled his belly.

Loki looked between them with his thumb in his mouth.

“Is Loki a happy baby, too?”

“No baby,” he protested, furrowing his brow contentiously.

“You are, you are,” she told him as if reassuring any fears as she checked on his diaper, patting him on the bum. “Maybe not so much of a happy baby? Did I ruin your fun?” she asked a little mockingly as she pulled away from him, looking at the way he kept his very intimidating scowl.

She set a pacifier into his mouth and continued to watch as the little sat down and then fell purposefully backwards, lying on the warm quilt next to Mobius. She knew it was around naptime, and the boys were beginning to get tired, but letting them doze in a warm, spring sunbath was going to be much easier for both of them than trying to wrangle them down for their naps in the nursery.

Loki reached up to grab his toes, demanding Sylvie’s attention as he did so, babbling and cooing to her as he tried to reach past himself for a rattle, a ring-shaped clear one filled with rainbow plastic beads which made a lovely noise as he held it up to his ear to get a closer listen to the satisfying rolling noise it made.

He ignored Mobius next to him, who was back to his board books and lamb. Now Mobius was the one watching curiously out of the corner of his eyes.

Loki remained unaware, focusing much more on maintaining Sylvie’s attention to be bothered by Mobius’.

She hummed and brought herself to a slightly closer garden bed so she could watch them a bit closer.

But the second Loki found her attention to be insufficient, he whimpered, loudly.

“Mummy’s right here. Keep playing,” she reassured him as she turned back to her herbs and flowers.

He threw down his rattle to check if that worked, and began to kick and fuss in a way that made it obvious that he was considering working up to screams when it didn’t.

However, Mobius made a noise. Not a vocal one, but a sigh. A heavy, calm, but slightly fed up sigh.

It was not a noise Loki had expected from the baby; Sylvie or Thor, sure, but Mobius? He hadn’t known him for all that long, but… it wasn’t a noise he had prepared to hear.

Loki suddenly quieted and tried to see what had caused the other little to make such a noise. But their eyes unfortunately had to lock, and both littles blankly stared at each other.

Mobius fumbled with the book and handed it to Loki, who took a peek at it and then dropped it over the fence for Sylvie.

She gave him a look, set down her work to reach into a picnic basket next to her, and fished out another pair of mittens, just like the ones Mobius had on, which she quickly wrestled onto Loki’s hands so he wouldn’t be so tempted to grab and throw and drop things.

He didn’t cry, but did make a point to scowl at her as she velcroed the pink, fleecy fabric over his hands.

He set his hands down back on the floor, jerking away after Sylvie got all the pieces into position. Upon repositioning himself, his curiosity and focus floated back to Mobius’ long sigh.

He studied the smaller little further before a conclusion was reached: The poor thing was getting not only sleepy, but bored.

Loki grabbed an inflatable ball and fidgeted with it, rolling it back and forth between his legs as he observed and pondered if this was something he should be fixing.

He quickly made the decision that it wasn’t.

Loki turned over onto his hands and knees as the smaller tot rubbed his eyes and lazily stacked his color coded rings.

Discarding the ball, he got up, and set a blanket on the floor into the bassinet. Followed by a few pillows, and any other soft toy he could find on the floor of the playpen. By the time he was done, there was hardly any room left in the cot. But regardless, he climbed in and felt absolutely, entirely, comfortable. The fact he needed to curl up wasn’t great, but he didn’t seem to mind it all that much.

Sylvie smiled at him, being a big boy, putting himself to bed like a good little one. She began to hum a soothing tune.

As Mobius noticed the disappearance of his lamb, he felt like he knew exactly where it was. He crawled to the bassinet where Loki was cloud gazing and tugged at one of the draping blankets spilling over the sides.

The disturbed Loki angrily sat up and stared down at him.

Being too little to vocalize what he wanted, Mobius looked up at Loki and simply grabbed at the air, hoping that maybe, Loki would understand.

But he didn’t, giving a cocked eyebrow and a skeptical look.

So, Mobius peeked over the ledge of the cradle, before yanking out his stuffed sheep, creating a hole in the nest Loki had made for himself.

Loki was even less happy with this development.

He looked to Sylvie to see if she saw this injustice, and when he realized she didn’t, he tried to yank the toy back.

Mobius did not fight it. Not really. He sat down, crossed his arms, and contemplated what to do, with a pouty little frown on his face, before deciding to tug on Sylvie’s shirt and get her attention, leaning as far as he could over the fence of the play space.

She looked down at him as she finished planting a row of Icelandic poppies, but Mobius quickly realized that he didn’t know how to communicate that his beloved toy had been taken, except by pointing a mitten over at Loki.

“Did Loki take your napping spot?” she asked while taking off her gardening gloves. “That silly boy.” As she spoke, she opened the playpen gate and sat down next to Mobius, taking him into her lap. “You poor thing! Where ever are you going to rest now?”

Part of her last sentence was sarcasm. As the two had become nearly inseparable (no matter how much Loki denied it), nap times close to one another had become regular and almost expected, especially on colder days.

However, in some ways, Sylvie was right. There wasn’t any room for two. The one, comfortable naptime spot had been stolen along with the comfortable blankets and toys, and who could stand for that?

She cradled him close to her chest as she checked him. With one empty hand, she searched for the bag that she’d keep bottles and sippy cups in, just barely reaching for a mostly cooled bottle of luke-warm milk.

She set it into the crook of her neck and held it with her head as she brought Mobius up a little bit higher to drink from it, not bothering with a bib or burp cloth and taking her risks at getting dribbled or spit-up on.

The little one wasn’t much in the mood for a nap though. He took a couple sips, but soon unlatched, cooing and making his babyish babbling noises.

“You’re just so wiggly? Wiggly boy?” Sylvie asked, tickling him like Loki had.

Mobius squealed, almost screamed as he giggled in that voice Loki had heard earlier.

The older little opened his eyes as he heard it and moved just a little bit.

“Shh, Loki’s sleeping!” she hushed him with a wide smile.

Mobius set a cotton mitten into his mouth as he nodded, a little embarrassedly, while kicking his legs absently and fidgeting.

Then, he reached up, and with two mitted hands, tried to grab the straw sunhat off of Sylvie’s head.

Sylvie leaned over to make it easier, wisps of her hair sticking with static and sweat to the fibers as her baby pulled it down and onto his own head curiously.

“You look very handsome,” she commented, adjusting it on his head and dotting a kiss on the top of it.

The little one thought it was funny as well, rubbing the side of his nose and continuing to kick and fidget.

“How are we ever going to get such a lively little one down for his nap? Hm?”

Loki had already sat up and had been watching for a while at this point, with his knees brought up and mitted arms wrapped around him.

Sylvie noticed him. "You can sleep, it's okay," she told him. "But can you share your toys and pillows with Mobius? He wants some, too."

Mobius smiled, a big full smile for being understood, when he was so afraid the message wouldn't get across.

Loki glared at both of them and decided that maybe, just maybe, this was the perfect time to shake his head and whine and cry and act as if this wasn't all by his own doing.

Sylvie pressed her lips together and gave him the most utterly unimpressed expression she could ever give a little before Mobius scooted down, giving her permission to divide the attention a bit.

She tried to move Loki out of his palace of pillows and blankets but the boy went limp the second she applied any force to pulling him away. "Brat," she mumbled under her breath.

Mobius tried not to smile in agreement.

It took a great deal of coaxing and a couple near misses of a foot to the face or an elbow to the boob to get Loki into her lap, but somehow Sylvie managed, even as he fought her. Wrestling him into a not very warm or particularly loving hug, she kept him restrained, which, as every other parent had told her, made the ordeal worse (and yet both her and Thor still insisted on it). For Sylvie, it was more of a hug for her own and Mobius' safety.

When he finally calmed down, Sylvie set a bucket hat onto his head to keep the bothersome sun out of his face before finding a second bottle in her picnic basket and carelessly shoving the nipple of it into his mouth.

He whimpered behind it but stopped moving so much.

"Shh, there we go. That's good," she said, finally able to stop clutching him tightly and instead use a free hand to pet his hair, which snaked down to check his nappy once he relaxed. "Mummy's calm boy, huh? Are we quiet and sleepy?" She emphasized these words to make sure they really sank in.

Loki nodded.

Mobius, at this time, was laying on his belly, watching, and sleepily trying to keep his eyes open, smiling gently at Sylvies reassuring words.

"Mummy's calm quiet boys," she noted, looking up at him.

As Loki relaxed, Sylvie was finally able to maneuver him down into a more comfortable, cradled position, and as he softened even more, she saw an itty bitty smile creep across his face around the bottle.

“Both of you,” Sylvie tacked onto the end, reaching down to pet Mobius, but Loki tried to grab her arm, whining, and pull it back to himself.

That seemed to be a final straw. “Alright, yep, nap time for you both,” she said, scooting Loki off her lap entirely.

She took a second to survey the bassinet, as it had been set outside when she had only anticipated caring for one little, and decided it was unsuitable for the two to share. So, she moved all the soft items out of it and onto the quilts where the two littles were lying, shoving the hard or noisy toys out of the way and tucking her babies in as if they were in their crib, which Mobius found really silly.

Once the little ones were asleep, Sylvie decided that it was maybe time to take down the baby gate. No longer was she hanging up sheets or doing much that demanded her full attention or anything that the babies couldn’t help with, in fact, she strongly believed that being in the garden would be good for them. So, with the bassinet, and a couple toys that neither of the littles were close to, she took a few things inside, just inside the back door for Thor to put away later so she didn’t need to leave them for long.

A very rare occurrence happened about forty five minutes later, as Mobius woke up from his nap first.

“Hello,” Sylvie hummed softly, noting his presence as she mixed some soil at a nearby potting table.

The little rubbed his eyes and observed the changes in his surroundings before pushing himself up and crawling to the corner of the quilt, but no further.

“Would you like to come help me?” she asked.

Briefly, Mobius paused, and then shook his head, choosing to lay on his belly and observe the grass instead. He stretched out, letting the tiny blades rub against his forearms and tried to pick up a few small ladybugs, cooing over them.

“Let’s get those mittens off you so you can play, hm?” Sylvie asked as she stepped closer.

The baby little rolled himself over for her so she could take the little sock-like pieces of fabric off of his hands and he could immediately try to put them into his mouth.

“Were we exploring the grass?” she asked him.

Mobius nodded and spread his palms wide, letting the individual pieces tickle in between his fingers.

Loki began to shift very soon after that, and stole away Sylvie’s attention.

She checked the little, and subsequently pulled him off the quilt by his ankles, which made him roar with laughter as she slid a pad under his bum and got him changed into a clean nappy.

The chilly wipes and cream made the warm summery day feel even warmer and relieved his skin of irritation and rash.

Having the mat out like this also made it easier for Sylvie to coax Mobius down for a change as well.

Today, he was a little bit wiggly and modest, as if he had a reputation to uphold and this was all very embarrassing to him, which of course, Sylvie found to be adorable.

Loki distracted him with toys while Sylvie handed him the fresh nappy that would go on once she cleaned him up, letting him examine the softness himself and look at the dinosaurs on the outside.

It didn’t seem to surprise or bother him when she took it away to put underneath him even if he did kick a little bit.

“There we go,” Sylvie cooed as she slid his overalls back up and set the straps into place. She placed a kiss on Mobius’ cheek as she helped him sit up. “Now, can you both play nicely while mummy gardens?” she asked them.

Loki looked up at her with his hand in his mouth, pacifier hanging, and made a motion like he wanted to be picked up at her.

“Would you like to help?” she asked him.

Loki nodded firmly. He most definitely wanted to help, even if Mobius didn’t, and immediately after Sylvie undid his mittens, he quickly crawled over to her potting bench to help, pulling himself up and leaning on the furniture as if it was difficult.

Mobius remained fairly content with his puzzles and toys as Sylvie gave her older boy instructions on how to plant seeds into tiny cardboard pots.

Then, after Loki had gotten a start, she came over, and with a little bit of work, picked Mobius up.

He was a little bit surprised, as always, but still put up with being carried over to her planting beds. He didn’t really have much of a choice to help or not if Loki was helping.

He made handprints in the dirt, and poked holes like Sylvie was, sitting in her lap while Loki covered up the seeds they were planting and added some water from a watering can Sylvie had provided and let him fill up. She monitored his ability to pour and how much water he added to the soil, but mostly tried not to interfere, letting him attempt his own miniature type of independence. The two were as helpful as they could be to her and followed every order-- well, almost every order, with the exception of Loki attempting to eat a few seeds,-- until she just had to take over on her own.

As she clipped back some pieces of brush, Sylvie snipped off a few pieces of sweet smelling plants for Loki to rub between his fingers and smell, like lavender and sage.

Loki in turn, handed the smelly plants back to Mobius. “Sniff!” he commanded the baby.

Mobius smiled as if this was a very funny joke before Loki shoved the plants closer and Mobius did smell.

He nodded as if he understood the smells in some special way before trying to take one from Loki’s palm. He sniffed the lavender he had caught once again before chewing on the petals and eventually setting the whole piece into his mouth.

“Ew! Yuck!” Loki called out, giggling.

“It’s just lavender. He can chew on it,” Sylvie reminded him, but as she said that, Mobius spat out the plant and gave her a rather betrayed and upset face. “But maybe it’s just time for lunch. Are you hungry?” she asked them both.

Mobius whined and was helped up, taken in by the hand, with Loki hanging onto Sylvie’s other.

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khentkawes · 3 years

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Tony Stark-antis need to learn some chill and basic narrative comprehension skills. Like really? Again with this bullshit?

Dude, we are ONE episode into Falcon and the Winter Solider and people are already using it as an excuse to resurrect anti-Tony Stark bad takes. Like... WTF fandom? Do we really have to go through this with every single post-Endgame mcu project? Really? When are ya all gonna learn some comprehension skills and actually pick up on what the narrative is trying to say?

Say it with me: the bank loan scene was a not-very-subtle jab at systemic racism and the way black veterans have been treated in American for decades. It’s not an excuse to anti on about how “tOnY sTaRk DiDnT pAy ThE aVeNgErS CuZ hE’s A eVIL bILLIonAiRe!”

Are you all so afraid of talking about systemic racism that you have to blame Tony Stark for Sam not getting a bank loan? Really? After a year of BLM protests and extensive awareness-raising for systemic racism, and y’all still don’t get it?

That’s the real world issue that the narrative was trying to lay out, and it’s the in-universe explanation for that scene, which is trying to address out-of-universe real-world issues. But now let me be petty and go back to the in-universe issues of whether Sam got paid... because this whole take is just pissing me off and I have to rant. So...

Sam hasn’t had a paying job in seven years, and he chose to leave the Avengers when he defied the Sokovia Accords because he blindly follows everything Cap says without ever thinking for himself. He’s been badly written ever since he showed up at the end of Age of Ultron. And that bad writing means he’s just been playing as Cap’s lackey, and in doing so, he CHOSE to leave the Avengers, to reject a government paycheck, and take his chances on the run for two years as a fugitive. So yeah. Two years, no job, no pay. And as far as we can tell, he didn’t do a whole lot of awesome saving-the-world in those two years either. He was just hiding out with Cap and maybe punching a couple of low-level terrorists or something .There certainly weren’t any alien invasions that he stopped in that time. And after that, he was dust for five years. That’s not his fault, obviously, but no one can expect to collect a paycheck while they don’t exist. That’s why the post-Blip economy is probably a bit wonky at the moment. So in total... seven years. No job. No paycheck. Part of that is consequences of Sam’s actions and part of it was through no fault of his own. But yeah, after seven years with no paycheck, there’s a good chance he’s got money issues. Did banks seize assets of those who were blipped? Totally possible.

But now, in-universe, let’s remember that all this bullshit that antis are spewing about “Tony Stark should have set aside money for his friends and teammates” and “Sam saved the world from aliens so many times, so he deserves a pension” and “Tony could set up a trust fund for all of the avengers because they’re his friends!” Yeah. That’s all 100% BS.

First off, Sam Wilson and Tony Stark are not friends in the MCU. Never have been. In Civil War, Tony said, “I know we don’t know each other very well” because they don’t! They’ve NEVER FOUGHT TOGETHER ON THE SAME TEAM! Think about that. Tony wasn’t an active duty avenger between Age of Ultron and Civil War, and that’s the only time period where Sam was an active avenger. So they were never really “teammates” and they weren't friends. They were, at best, acquaintances or coworkers who never worked closely together.

And during that time, when Tony appears to have had little contact with the avengers, he was bankrolling the team. He says, “what, am I doing here? Running a bed and breakfast for a biker gang?” He made the compound and supplied all of the avengers’ tech. He gave them free room and board. It sure looks like they had everything they needed, so it’s entirely possible (even likely) that Tony was paying the Avengers during this time. But that’s all it was. Two years when Sam was an active avenger, Tony wasn’t, but Tony was still bankrolling the team. After that... Sam was a fugitive and then he was dust. So he spent 7 years with no job, and two of those years were by choice, because of Sam’s rejection of being an avenger and refusal to accept a government paycheck. He chose to be a vigilante with Cap, and vigilantism doesn’t supply a paycheck on its own.

And finally... Sam has never saved the world! And he’s only fought aliens during Infinity War and Endgame. So where are people getting this whole, “but Sam should be paid because hE sAvEd tHe wOrLd!”? Uh, no. Not really. He helped in Endgame. He tried to help in Infinity War. And that’s good. That’s important. It’s not nothing. But it’s also not saving the world. In this first episode of TFATWS, Sam literally accepted thanks from a guy who said “you brought my wife back,” when Sam had nothing to do with that. Bruce snapped and brought back all the dusted. Sam had no role in helping for that. Now I get that Sam was probably just being polite. But it’s contributing to this narrative that Sam did more then he actually did. Naw, man. Marvel never cared about Sam Wilson until five minutes ago. So they’ve never actually shown him doing anything that was, well, important. And that’s a fail on Marvel, but if we’re looking at it from a purely in-universe perspective... Sam Wilson doesn’t deserve any more or less than any other government/military contractor. Because that’s what he is now (he’s not an Avengers because the Avengers no longer exist), and that’s what he was up until the last scene of Age of Ultron. Most of his existence, he’s been a solider. He’s a military guy. So if he’s not been getting paid, that’s on the military. Tony, at most, would have paid him for two years of his time and work. The rest is all on the military, including Sam’s current finances.

Which means, you want to blame someone for Sam’s finances and his inability to get a loan? Well, there are three reasons. 1. Sam chose to leave the Avengers to become a fugitive with Cap, which means he had no job and no paycheck for two years. That’s the consequences of his actions. 2. the military either stopped paying him at some point, or hasn’t been paying him enough/quick enough in the past six months since the Blip. Military pay for veterans and veterans’ access to benefits is a real problem, but it’s a military problem. And it’s possible that any back-pay or pension that Sam is owed is tied up in red tape, which is probably only exacerbated by his time as a fugitive (which might mean he was made ineligible for any pension). And finally 3. systemic racism. His sister was pretty clear on the fact that “people like us” are the ones who always seems to be denied loans. She was saying that there is money available for loans, but it always go to white folks first. Maybe try listening to the black character explain why they believe they aren’t getting paid. Sam (when not on the run or blipped) was living a pretty cushy life as a supporting avenger for two years. He apparently didn’t have to think about how systemic racism could affect his family because he was temporarily insulated from it. Now that layer of protection is gone because he’s not living in a cushy compound away from the real world (which, for the record, is probably a good thing. I think the Avengers being so isolated from the real world is probably partially what led to the problems in Civil War). So now Sam is going to be confronted with the reality that systemic racism is real and can affect anybody, regardless of your fame or your job. And after the past year of discussions on race, the fandom shouldn’t be surprised by this narrative.

I am so sick of every single MCU project post-Endgame being twisted by antis who just want to use it to hate Tony Stark. I mean, seriously. Give it a rest, people! Try reading the narrative the way it was intended and stop twisting it for your hate-Tony-Stark obsession.

#falcon and the winter solider spoilers #tfatws spoilers #barely but still #tony stark defense squad #antis need to be quiet #fandom discourse is exhausting #yall make it harder for me to care about anything associated with captain america and now that's beginning to include sam wilson #khent rants #marvel critical #kinda #i wanted to like the new shows #but the marvel writers are shit #i did enjoy wandavision #even though it had some problems #and i loved seeing rhodey in tfatws ep #khent's marvel discussions #khent's posts

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writingsbychlo · 3 years

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smoke and fire (04b)

word count; 7050

summary; you wait hours for news on the young boy, and when the results are finally in, it looks like a breakthrough with thomas might be on the horizon.

notes; this is the second half of part four since it got so long, hope you guys enjoy!

warnings; reference to injury.

Trying to make yourself a little calmer, and distract yourself from how you were feeling, you peeled the gloves from your hands, dropping them in the nearest trash can and searching to find some toilets. The mirror did not offer you a reflection you were proud to see, tear-stained cheeks that cut through sweat-caked dust in tracks, messy hair and red eyes; like picturesque misery.

There was blood on the clean fabric of your button-up shirt, and your medical bag held little that would be able to help, but you were sure you could at least make a start. Holding your hand under the dispenser for soap, the soft humming made by the machine as it deposited a small pile of foam into your hand was enough to break the rigid silence, and you let out a slow breath. Logically, you knew it wasn’t your fault that he was injured, the boy was almost an adult, he was old enough to make his own decisions, and yet you’d let yourself become attached, you’d tried to offer him advice that had backfired, and so you couldn't help but feel partly responsible.

The water ran pink as your skin was cleared, before shaky fingers were coming up to undo the buttons along your top. The long-sleeve top worn underneath wasn’t the warmest of items, but it was better than sitting in a blood-soaked shirt, and so you folded the crisp white uniform up carefully, tucking it into your bag and letting out a sigh. With hands cupped under the cold water tap, you let your palms fill, before leaning over the sink and splashing your face carefully with the water, rubbing away the grime and salt present on your skin until it felt fresh and clean once again.

Your eyes were still lined with red and your throat was still raw, but both of those would begin to fade as you finally began to get a hold of yourself once again. Your head was hurting, both inside and outside, the tight ponytail your hair was pulled up into made your scalp ache as you released it, and you rubbed your fingers gently through the strands to try and soothe that pain, making a note to find some water for your oncoming headache soon.

Finally, it was enough, hair flailing loose around your shoulders once again and skin clean, at least feeling a little more comfortable than you had, and as you patted down the pockets of your bag, you found your phone again, grateful that Newt must’ve tucked it in there when he’d gone back to the van for you, because you were sure you’d left it on the dash. There was a text from Newt, just having arrived back at the station, saying that he'd spoken to Vince and everything was cleared up, while Brenda had also left a text saying she was hoping that both you and the boy were okay.

A voice cleared in front of you, snapping your attention away from where you were trying to think of how to reply, clicking your phone off and looking away to find the source of the disturbance. Allison was standing before you, a gown on her body and a scrub cap on her head, but she’d shed the mask and gloves, for now, smiling a little as she began to undo the ties behind her back and neck.

“I came to give you a little update about what’s going on.”

“Already? It’s only been, what, forty minutes?” Panic flared up inside of you once again at the speed at which she was emerging, but the soft smile and a chuckle she gave to you was reassurance enough.

“Don’t worry, the kid is doing alright. Doctor Hale is great at his job, and it’s all going smoothly.” You rubbed your hands down along your pants, clearing sweaty palms and standing up to be the same height as her. “He’ll be going into the ICU after this, so why don’t you walk with me now and I’ll take you up to that waiting room, it's a little more comfortable and private than the corridors.”

“He’s going to be alright, then?”

“He’s going to be just fine.” She confirmed, waiting a second for you to grab your bag and swing it onto a shoulder, before she was setting off through the halls again, guiding you as she made her way towards the elevator. “He lost a fair amount of blood, but we’ve got him on some bags now, and his levels are steadying again, he’s starting to get some colour back, so we’re happy with that process, and his heartbeat is stronger.”

You watched as she pressed the button to signal the machine, silver doors reflecting back at you, and you felt positively exhausted as you slumped upon hearing the good news, tensions and adrenaline finally being able to slip away. “What about his legs?”

“Well, we won’t know much about any of it until he wakes up, and we can test his response to stimulus when the drugs in his system wear off and we can replace the anaesthetic with general medication, but the shattered leg has been set and is due to be wrapped in a cast, it’s all we can do, but it isn’t looking the best on the outcome.”

You winced, knowing there was nothing more you could have done, but you still hated to know what the repercussions might be. The elevator ride was silent, as was the walk to the waiting room, and yet none of it was uncomfortable, she was simply a companion at your side who had brought you a little peace, and when you were of a more stable and clear mindset next time, you’d thank her properly for being so kind to you, and make a better effort to get to know the nurses here, but right now, you didn’t have the right headspace for anything other than taking it ten minutes at a time.

“There’s not much more we can do now, it’s all about recovery, really. You did some great work out there, we’ve cleaned and applied new stitches to his wounds, I did it myself, and I promise they won’t burst any time soon.” You nodded your head, trying to absorb all the information that you could, but your mind was spinning, only focusing on the fact that he was going to be okay. “We’ll keep him in the hospital for a while, and check on him, his head has been patched up, luckily it was a crack and it hadn't splintered, so we’re happy with that.”

“When he comes out, will I be able to see him?”

“Yes, you can.” She turned to smile at you now, holding the doors open to a much nicer, and empty waiting room, you being the only person here, nobody flying past busily, phones ringing and conversations being had, it was calm and serene, and exactly what you needed. “Doctor Hale is going to come and talk to you more comprehensively himself while they get him all set up, and it shouldn’t take too long for the anaesthetic to wear off. As soon as he wakes up, we can get him started on some real painkillers that won’t knock him out.”

“Excellent.” You sighed, brushing yourself off for invisible dirt a story anxiety took over, before looking back to her. “Thank you so much, I can’t even tell you how much it all means to me.”

“It’s no trouble, truly.” She placed a comforting hand on your arm, squeezing lightly. “You’re one of our own. Derek, uh, Doctor Hale, he feels like he really owes the fire department, so he would do pretty much anything for you all. House ‘21 was one of the firehouses involved in saving his family when there was a house fire. He has a big family, and he almost lost them a few years ago, this is the least he can do, he feels.”

You had no idea, you’d never been anywhere long enough to reap the seeds of good acts so far down the line, but you felt proud just to be able to associate yourself with the team, to be a member of Firehouse ‘21, even if you hadn't been there for that event. They were a great team, a wonderful group of people, and you were proud to be associated with them. You weren’t sure how long it would last, but for the first time in a long time, your first thought wasn’t the next immediate escape route.

“I’m going to head back in there, now. It shouldn't be much longer.”

You nodded, watching as she walked away, and leaving you alone in the peacefulness of the waiting room. There was a table, stacked up with magazines and a water machine in the corner, chilled and humming slowly, and you made your way over towards that firstly. Taking one of the flimsy little cups, you held it under the nozzle, pushing on the button of the cold water, and watching as it filled up, the temperature making your fingers cool as it moved toward the top.

Taking it back over to one row of chairs, they were much more comfortable than the others, the hard plastic being replaced for soft cushioning, warm and inviting, and you slumped down into it. Shuffling through your bag, you were grateful to find the half-used try of painkillers you'd hidden in there for personal use, thanking a past version of yourself for thinking ahead, and popping two of the small tablets out, placed on your tongue and reaching for the cup. Several swigs of the water, until the cup was empty, washing them down and enjoying the cool feeling washing along your throat and soothing the burn, and you felt a little more refreshed immediately.

This time, as you filled it up, you took a moment to observe the room you were in. A small, ornamental water fountain sat on one of the counters, soft sounds of trickling water as you neared it, and it was relaxing just to be around, stacks of little pebbles to create a water fountain, and blue lights to make the pool of water seem clearer, you lips flicking up at the sides. There was a radio, it wasn’t turned on and you didn’t intend to do so, but you admired its place here, the room filled with things all around so that there was something to calm and relax every type of person, no matter what their comfort was, and as you settled back down into the seats, you found you weren't quite so stressed anymore.

Producing your phone from your pocket once again, you sipped at your water, the headache you had finally beginning to recede, and you replied to Brenda, a thumb swiping rapidly across the screen as you thanked her for her concern, and gave her an update that he was due out of surgery any time now. You replied to Newt too, once again thanking him profusely, as yet another batch of unrelated guilt began to make itself known, surfacing as you realised you’d just abandoned your partner to do all the work.

Neither of them replied, both messages being left on ‘read’, and you simply hoped that they were having fun with the team, getting to relax and destress after a long day, and they weren’t torturing themselves in the same way that you were.

The elevator chimed, not too far away, the other end of the corridor, and you paused. Following it, there was the sound of wheels, moving along the corridor, squeaking a little as a bed rattled, before fading away, and your heart leapt in your chest as you resisted the urge to stand up and look out, staying sat where you were. Your suspicions were confirmed, however, when the doors opened up, the doctor who you’d seen only a couple of hours ago appearing once again, and you pushed yourself up to your feet as fast as you could, meeting the doctor, who looked a little frazzled and worn out, but optimistic nonetheless.

“Doctor Hale, hi.”

He smiled a little, ducking his head. “You can call me Derek. I’m not your doctor.” Your cheeks heated a little bit, mumbling his name as you grew used to the feel of it in your mouth, and he cleared his throat. “So, you ready for that update?”

“Absolutely.” You confirmed, and he turned his body, placing a hand on your lower back and guiding you back towards the doors.

“How about I tell you on the way to the coffee machine, because I’m desperate for a double espresso, three times over.” You grinned, laughing lightly as you agreed, just the thought of such a drink making your mouth water, and you grabbed at your bag, swinging it onto one arm and letting it dangle as you followed behind him. He held the door open for you, guiding you through the halls, and you followed after him, falling into a comfortable pace beside one another. “First of all, do you happen to know his name? We can’t get anything up on file, and we can’t put him on medications until we know if he has allergies.”

“All I know is that he’s called Aaron, I think. He’s been here before, though, should be on file. I brought him in a couple of weeks ago for the injuries on his stomach.”

The man beside you nodded, taking the pen from his pocket and writing down the name on the back of his hand. “Alright, well, I’m pretty optimistic about how Aaron is doing. He’s all set up in an ICU room now, and as soon as he starts to come around, we can let you in to visit him. While you’re in there, we need you to try and get some contact details, his parents, anything like that, so we can try and get him on file, if we can’t find him in the system, but we have a lot of Aarons’.”

“I’ll do my best.”

“His leg is now in a cast, we set it as best we could, but there was more damage along his spine, so I’m not overly optimistic about that. I don’t know how bad the paralysis will be, but there’s definitely going to be some loss of movement there, he won’t make a full recovery, not from a fall like that with his injuries.” It wasn’t a surprise, you had been anticipating the worst, and so far, everything beyond being told he didn’t make it was just a blessing. Stopping before the coffee machine beside a nurses desk, the screen flashed to life as he swiped his card through the holder, greeting him with his ID on screen, and he began to program a selection of shots and syrups into the blend. “What are you having?”

“Oh, I don’t have a-”

“My treat, let me buy you a coffee. I get a doctor discount on it anyway.” You couldn't resist the charming smile he gave you, shrugging a little and laughing under your breath. “Alright, Derek, surprise me. I’m not that fussy.”

“I take that as a challenge.” He confirmed, setting to work on making your brew, and as the machine hummed to life, he returned to the topic of your patient. “We pumped his stomach, we ran a few tests and flushed his system out. You might not like me too much when I tell you this, but with the contents of his stomach and the harm he got into as a minor, with nobody here to explain it, I have contacted the police and child authorities.”

“I don’t blame you, Doc. I really don’t. All I want for this kid is the best in life, I encouraged him to get out of that whole gang-lifestyle, I feel responsible for him even being here, and I-” You cut yourself off as you realised you were rambling, your lips pursing shut, and the coffee maker beside you beeped. He grinned, picking up the second coffee and handing it over to you, but only after pressing a plastic lid onto the top of the coffee cup. Bringing it up to your nose, the sweet smell of delicate spices and warm coffee filled your nose, and you hummed happily at the delicious blend. “Thank you.”

“Just so you know, you saved that kid’s life. You brought him here and he’s safe, you’ve done the best you can, and you did great.” You sighed, blowing at the steam on your coffee and taking a moment, a few deep breaths, settling yourself in the moment. “When he wakes up and starts to surface, we’ll let you know. If you give me your details, I’ll keep you updated on how he does.”

“Sounds like you’re asking me for my number there, Doctor Hale?”

“I thought I told you to call me Derek.” He beamed, both of you knowing it was only a joke, before he was holding the pen from the pocket of his coat out for you and grabbing a piece of paper from the nurses stand. Placing down your coffee, you wrote down your name and number, handing it back over to him, and he looked at it for a moment, repeating your name, before putting it into his pocket. “You can head on back to the waiting room, and I’ll come and get you in a little while when he’s awake, and we’ve got him on something to keep the pain off.”

The device on his belt beeped, calling him away to another case, and he was leaving, a wave on his fingers as he picked up his coffee, and you were left to try and navigate your way back to the waiting room alone.

There were signs up along the walls, but every turn you took felt more confusing, muted coloured walls and total silence feeling more like your new norm as you navigate the maze of pathways, letting out a relieved sigh as you finally caught sight of the same doors you’d come through earlier. There was movement behind them, your heart sinking a little as you realised the peaceful loneliness you had was broken, but you knew other people would be here to visit their families.

Your bag would still be laying on the floor, where you’d left it before leaving to find coffee, and as you made you way back along, the people behind the glass became a little clearer. Blond hair, brown hair, strawberry and jet black. Pushing the door open, your jaw dropped a little as you looked across the group, all eyes turning to face you, and your heart raced in your chest.

“What are you guys doing here?”

“We’re pausing movie night!” Chuck was almost yelling, his enthusiasm getting the better of him, and several members of the team shushed him, while others snickered. “Sorry. We’re pausing movie night.”

“I see that, but, uh, why?”

A few looks were shared among the team, and Newt sighed, standing to his feet from where he’d been lounging in your chair. “Because we’re your team, and we care about you. You’re here for the kid, and we’re here for you.”

He took your coffee from your hands, sniffling it, and winking a little before raising it up to take a sip. His eyes widened a little, before he was gulping down another mouthful, and you snatched it back with a protesting noise.

“That’s good coffee. Where can I get one of those?”

“Doctors only.” You mumbled, a sweet smile on your lips as you took a sip, and he stared at you for a second.

“Are you telling me you made a friend other than me? You really are getting comfortable here.”

You shook your head, pressing it back into his hands after another mouthful of coffee, gifting it to him. Brenda was holding her arms out to you, a sweet smile on her face as you paused for only a second, before falling into her arms and letting her wrap you up tightly. The moment you squeezed her back, there was another body wrapping around you, making the pair of you giggle as Chuck joined the hug, and you whined at the overwhelming heat that was encasing you when Newt joined in too.

Elbowing yourself free, you wriggled out, popping free and finding the rest of the team still wearing sweet smiles, all standing around and waiting patiently. “Thanks for coming, you guys, it really means a lot to me.”

Settling down with the company of your team, Newt slumped beside you, a backpack of his own on the floor, and he picked it up, roping it down on your lap, and the weight of it winded you a little.

“What was that for?”

“I brought you the clothes from your locker.” You raised a single brow, opening the bag and finding your hoodie and leggings inside, as well as your more comfortable trainers than the ones you wore to work, a little sigh leaving you. “Figured you’d want to be comfy, and you smell a little bit musty and bloody.”

Lifting the edge of your top to your nose, you took a whiff, faint traces being picked up, nothing overwhelming, but it certainly was present. Everybody else had changed their clothes as they left their kit at work, or went home to shower, but no matter what, you appreciated it all.

“So, you gonna’ give us a little update on the kid?”

“Oh, yeah.” You wiped at your nose, feeling yourself get a little emotions, before pulling one leg up under yourself and turning to face him. “So, he’s doing alright. They’re worried about his legs, and they pumped his stomach, but they’re confident about his recovery and they’ve put a cast on his leg. He’s out of surgery now, they’re waiting for him to wake up.”

“What about his parents? They got in touch with them, right?”

“They haven’t got any information on him yet.” You sighed, rubbing at your forehead. “They want me to go in and ask him to give up his information as soon as he wakes up.”

“Well, look alive, because here comes a white coat with determination. A good looking one at that, dark hair, tall, I would be all over that if-”

“Newt!” You hissed, the door opening, and he laughed himself into silence as he brought the coffee to his lips. Standing up, you gave him the bag back, making sure to drop it into his lap with equal the force he’d dropped onto yours, and he spluttered a little, glaring at you and kicking his leg out at you as you walked to meet the doctor. “He’s awake?”

“Yes, he is.” Derek spun on his heel, the two of you walking away towards the main doors, and you turned over your shoulder to scowl at your partner for the kick, a sugary-sweet and sly grin on his lips as you scoffed. “A lot of your friends have shown up, huh?”

“They’re my team, they came to support me.”

“Hey, I think it’s sweet.” He shrugged, guiding you along the halls. “So, he’s in a little pain, nothing awful yet as he’s still waking up, so he’s a sort of woozy. Focus on asking him his last name, if we can pull up his account we can see his allergies and get him some meds, but if he doesn't want to give it up, we need to know about the medicines.”

“What do I tell him when he starts asking questions?”

“We’re going to test his reflexes as soon as we get his medicine sorted but before it kicks in, though they may not be fully comprehensive on the total movement and reflex he can get back.” He stopped outside of the door, and peering in through the glass, you could see the young boy. The hair from the top of his head was shaved away, around the sides too, black locks were gone and bandaging wrapping his head. He was clad in a gown, and the blankets were tucked up around his body, staring up at the rod as he frowned, looking entirely displaced. “Press the button on the side of his bed when you’re ready for us to come in, I’ll wait at the nurses’ station.”

“Thanks, Derek.”

He dipped his head in a nod, taking a step back, and you entered the room. He lifted his head slowly, confusion on his features for a second as you clicked the door shut, before he was huffing again.

“Hey, kiddo, how you feelin’?”

“I don’t know.” He mumbled, words a little slurred, and you took a seat beside his bed, pulling the chair over, and his head rolled from one side to the other, cheek pressing to the pillow to look at you, but his gaze was unfocused. “My arm is itchy.”

“That’s just your drip line for meds, you’ll be fine.” He made a shocked face, as though you’d reveal the secrets of the universe to him, before his face was screwing up again.

“I hurt a bit too. Everywhere.”

“I know, and we can get you some meds, alright?” He nodded his head, silence falling around you both again, and he was using one hand to scratch at the bedding, toying with the loose thread in the beige blanket, and sighed. “You gonna’ tell me your last name, so we can get you registered and checked in on the system?”

“No.”

“Why not?”

“Because you’ll call my foster parents.” Your heart stopped for a moment in your chest, and just when you thought it couldn't get any worse for him, you found out the poor kid was in the system, no wonder he’d turned to family wherever he could get it. “I don’t want them to know.”

“Don’t you think they’re worried? You’re going to be here for a while.”

“They’ll be disappointed in me.” He whispered, and you reached out, taking the young boy’s hand in your own, and squeezing lightly. “They’ll bring my little sister, she thinks I’m brave and strong.”

“And she’ll still think that!” He huffed, rolling his eye sin denial and tuning to stare back up at the ceiling. “I get how it feels to not want to let someone down, and to feel alone. I have moved between so many firehouses to find my home, and I’m still looking. I have, like, no friends outside of work.”

“What about your blond friend?”

“He’s a work friend, that doesn't count.” You teased, and he turned to look at you again.

“Do you hang out outside of work?” You paused, thinking on the people who were filling the waiting room right now, simply to support you, and you wondered if that counted, but the boy seemed to be going on anyway; “See, outside friends.”

“Alright, smart ass, the point is that I understand how you feel, and you should let me call your parents, so that you can have people who love you here with you. What do you say?” He was quiet, the moment dragging on, and as the cogs in the clock ticked loudly, the ‘second’ hand moving around, and as the third minute of silence passed you by, you gave up on any hope, You wondered if he’d fallen asleep, his eyes having slipped shut, and you squeezed his hand a little, his hand squeezing back after a few moments, signalling he was awake.

“Edge.”

“Huh?” You perked up a little, your elbow having been resting on the bed to support your head on your fist, before you were moving to look up at him.

“My name is Aaron Edge. I’m already in the system, I had asthma as a kid.” You cheered a little, reaching around for the handle instantly and pressing the button for the nurse’s desk.

“I’m so proud of you, kiddo.” The door opened a second later, a short red-head nurse escorting Doctor Hale, his brows raising a little as they came in, and you gave him a subtle nod. “This is Aaron Edge, and he’d love some painkillers now.”

“We’ll get that sorted out. This is nurse Martin, she’ll be looking after you, Mr Edge.” She left the room a second later, heading away to get it sorted out, and the doctor took a step closer to the bed. “How are you feeling, big guy? You gave us a scare there, but you're brave, and I know you’re going to be just fine.”

“I have a headache, and I feel itchy. Is that just my nerves?”

He tried to push himself up a little in the bed, his arms giving way under the pressure, and you moved, helping him sit up so you could position his pillows behind him to help him sit up. “Well, actually, that’s the beginning of the withdrawal. It’s not going to be great, but you’re young. We can get you in a great rehab program, and whatever you were on we can get you off. You’re young, you still have prospects ahead of you. It’ll be a tough road, you think you can do it?”

His hand tightened around yours once again, and he turned, vulnerability written on his face. You gave him a nod, and he stared at you for a second longer, before returning to give those same gestures to the doctor.

“Now, I just need to run a final test, alright?” Producing the pen from his pocket, he lifted up the blanket to reveal both of the boy’s feet, and held the end to the pen, never popping the button to reveal the inked tip. “Relax your foot for me.”

He did so and he dragged the tip of the pen up along the sensitive underfoot, everything still for a second, before his toes twitched, and you let out a little cheer, the boy in the bed jumping in shock. “What?”

“You still have movement in that foot?”

“Did I not before?” He panicked, sitting up further to peer down at his legs, and it seemed that in his drowsy state, he was only just becoming aware of the cast wrapped around his leg. “What about the other one?”

The cast sealed over most of his foot, but Derek reached down with the pen, dragging it along the space under his toes, and there was no movement. He did it again, still no reaction, and you nibbled on your lower lip. “Tell me when you feel something?”

Moving the blanket from his body, his leg was exposed, the cast ending just below his knee. He poked at the knee cap, then a rough inch further up, moving in inch segments as you waited, before his leg finally flinched just after the pen pressed over his mid-thigh.

“Well, we can get you into some physical therapy, and see how the healing of your leg goes, and what happens after that.”

Tucking the pen back away, the red-headed nurse entered the room once again, a needle and a small glass jar in her hand, and she was ready to add some medicine to the bag for him. “I’ve called your family, and they’re on their way. I’ve got some medicine for you now.” You squeezed his hand again lightly, letting go as the nurse moved to start setting him up a new line for his medicine, and Derek was busy filling out details on the chart that sat at the end of his bed.

“I’m going to go back to my team now, alright?” The kid turned to look at you, nodding his head slowly. “You keep your promise this time, alright? I believe in you, do it for your little sister. Be better.”

“Thank you for helping me.”

“You’re welcome, kiddo.”

You ran your hand over his cheek, giving him a gentle smile. As the medicine began to kick in, nurse Martin began to talk to Aaron about his family, and what had been said on the phone, and for the third time tonight, you were navigating the ICU wing halls. Stepping back into the waiting room, all eyes turned to you again, brows raising, and you nodded, shoulders slumping in relief.

“He’s going to be okay, and his family is on the way.”

A chorus of cheers took up around the room, and you nodded your head watching as they all began to get to their feet, coming over to offer their congratulations and comforts about how worried you’d been, and how much better you must be feeling, which was completely true.

Newt cupped your face, pressing a large and wet kiss to your forehead, and you scowled, wiping the mark on your skin. “I think you need a drink, love.”

“Kenny’s Bar?” Gally offered, and a series of acknowledgements and agreements going up around the room. You’d heard them talking about that bar before, it seemed to be a house favourite but you’d never been along with them before, and it felt like some kind of initiation ritual or rite of passage.

“You should go and change first. Get comfy, I’ll wait for you.”

“Actually, if you guys go on ahead, I’ll wait.” Thomas stood to the side, scratching at the back of his neck as he met your eye, shrugging a little before looking around the small group gathered around you, who seemed equally as shocked as you were. “Seriously, I mean it. We have some things to talk about.”

“We do?” You questioned dumbly, and he fixed you with a pointed look, before you nodded your head. “Right, sure, yeah, okay. I can work with that, I guess. I mean, if you don’t see me in the next twelve hours, you know who I was with last.”

“Uh-huh.” Newt eyes his friend sceptically, the two seeming to have a silent conversation all with that eye contact, before Newt was rounding everyone up. “Go get changed, don’t take too long, we’ll see you soon.”

He hugged you gently, before guiding the rest of the team out of the building, pats on your arm and squeezes of your hand as they all passed by and discussed who would be designated drivers and drop everyone else at home, each discussing driving their cars home and coming along to collect them as they went. You waved Newt’s bag at Thomas a little, jabbing a thumb over your shoulder, and he nodded his head, tension forming between you both as you slipped away to find the bathrooms.

You were already learning your way around the halls of this building well, locating them easily enough, and stepping inside. Pulling out the contents of the beg, you sealed yourself inside one of the cubicles, putting the lid down and taking a seat on top of it. Toeing off your shoes and leaving them on the floor, you were wiggling out of your crisp uniform trousers, slipping into your leggings, bouncing as you tugged them up your legs and wiggling as you got comfortable. With some simple sneakers and your hoodie on, you were feeling much more relaxed and comfortable.

Stuffing everything else inside of the bag, you zipped it up, heading back to the waiting room, and finding Thomas with his hands shoved into his pockets, your bag on his shoulder, and he offered you what looked only mildly like a forced smile as you made your presence known.

“Ready to go?”

“Ready as I’ll ever be.” He nodded his head, letting you go through the door first as you stepped into the halls and back towards the elevator, total silence sitting in the space between you both. As he pressed the button, it was almost immediately ready for you, and you stood on opposite sides of the box as you waited for the doors to close again and sink back to the lobby. “So is this the part where you decide the hatred is too much, and actually kill me?”

He laughed, a lightweight and short, but genuine, laugh. Looking up to you, he shook his head a little, amusement still sparking in his eyes. “I don’t hate you. I mean, I don’t necessarily like you, but that's because I don’t know you, and I didn’t really give myself the chance. We got off on the wrong foot, and that's partially my fault.”

“It’s mostly your fault.”

“It’s, like, fifty percent my fault!” He argued, and you clicked your tongue, shaking your head.

“Ninety.”

“Seventy-five.”

“Fine.” You huffed, surrendering to the deal again, and he gave a toothy grin. “Go on with what you were saying.”

The doors chimed as they opened up, and you fell into step beside him as the two of you began to head towards the doors to the building, letting him guide you as he headed towards his car, trying to form his words, and you waited patiently. “Look, the point is, I know you’ve been a good partner to Newt. Especially today. You went down there to look after that kid because you knew Newt couldn't take it, and while he’d never admit that to either of us, we both know it’s true.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about. We flipped a coin, and I lost.”

“Do you always flip winning sides over to take a loss?” He questioned, clicking his keys as the sleek black car came into view, and your face flushed with warmth, not having known anyone else had seen that. “Exactly my point. I know I’ve given you a hard time. I have my reasons, okay? It fucking sucks, and no, I don’t want to talk about it. Maybe you understand, maybe you don’t, but I’m trying to apologise, okay?”

He held the door open for you, the passenger seat readily available, and you dropped your bag into the footwell, standing in the way but not taking a seat as you stared up at him. “Okay. I forgive you. I probably shouldn't have been so uptight, but I was hurt too, and I didn’t take that well, so I guess this is me apologising as well.”

“So, we’re cool, now?”

“Sure.”

He nodded, the two of you staring at each other for a moment longer, and that same dreadfully awkward tension settled over the part of you as neither of you knew quite what to say. Just because you’d called a ceasefire, didn’t mean that there was a sudden connection, it didn't mean that pain and resentment were gone immediately, it just meant that you had agreed to process and move on from it together, instead of dwelling and letting it fester. “Her name was Teresa.”

“What?”

Your eyes snapped back up to his face, but he was staring at the ground, arms resting on top of the door, and he was picking at his nails. “The last paramedic, the reason I was so mad.”

“I thought you didn’t want to talk about it?”

“I owe you an explanation, so I guess I’m forcing myself to.” He sighed, running a hand through already messy hair. “She was.. a wildcard. Passionate and funny and just this real source of energy, you know? Kinda’ like you. She skipped out on us all of a sudden before shift one day, a better offer somewhere else, she didn’t tell us, but she just up and left. I was hurt, I thought I meant something to her.”

“I’m sorry, Thomas..”

“No, I am. Because all my suffering was emotional. She was Newt’s partner, he had to try and handle a case on his own because we couldn't get a replacement in before a call came, and that's the day he injured his leg. He fell through a couple of burning floors, top to bottom of the building, shattered his leg like that kid. Nobody knew where he was, he had no partner to call it in. Minho found him, unconscious from smoke inhalation and carried him out.” He let out a shaky breath, and you dared to reach out, placing a hand over his as they sat joined, and squeezing lightly. “I don’t blame myself for the accident, it had nothing to do with me. But, for whatever your own reasons are, I know you’ve jumped between houses a lot, and I was worried about Newt again. He’s my best friend.”

“I promise you, I won’t ever do that.”

“Yeah, well, I didn’t think Teresa would either, but then a better offer came along.” He sighed, lifting a thumb to rest over one of your fingers and stroke lightly as he sought his one comfort from your touch, and you squeezed his hands once again. “I shouldn't have compared you to her, and I’m sorry. It was unfair, I don’t even know you.”

Quit consumed you both once again, and there was nothing else to be said, only the weight of his confession hanging in the air, before you were perking up a little, realising how to gently move on and bring his mood back up. “You any good at pool?”

“Uh, what?”

“You know, pool. In bars. Does this bar have one?” You encouraged, his eyes meeting yours again and brows furrowing with confusion.

“Yeah, it does.”

“Well, you said you didn’t know anything about me. First thing to learn is that I’m amazing at pool.” He stood up a little more, smiling softly as he took your bait to move on from the conversation, and there was a slight twinkle of mischief in those honey-brown eyes. “Winner buys drinks?”

“Alright, I’ll take that deal, but only if we play darts afterwards. At which I will kick your ass, because I am fucking great at it.”

“You’re on, Thomas.” He chuckled, letting you step into the car and shutting the door behind you, the conversation being stored away for now, to think about when you were alone and process the details, but for now, you had bonding to do, with your teammates; for the first time yet, you genuinely considered the possibility of setting up roots somewhere, and making real friends that would last.

#thomas #firefighter!tommy #thomas x reader #thomas/reader #smoke and fire #SAF #tommy month #tomuary #tom-uary #thomas the maze runner #thomas x reader smut #thomas/reader smut #dylan o'brien #dylan obrien #dylan obrien x reader #dylan obrien/reader #dylan obrien thomas #dylan obrien the maze runner

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imaginedhaven · 3 years

Text

Give In and Get Away

a smutty Rowaelin oneshot

Link to Hot Professors Collection Masterlist

Summary: Aelin observes one of Rowan’s classes, but pays more attention to him than to the content of his lecture. Afterwards, she proceeds to show him exactly what she knows.

Rating: E for Explicit- not intended for readers under 18!

Contents/Warnings: College Professors AU, Enemies With Benefits, Semi-Public Sex

Here we skip back in time a bit, before even the first oneshot, though of course as always this is intended to stand completely alone with no comprehension of the rest of the ‘verse needed. Enjoy!

~*~*~

Aelin smirked from her position in the rear of the classroom, chewing on the top of her pen as she pretended to take notes. It was the first day of classes at Doranelle University, and as the newest teacher in the psychology department she had been assigned to sit in on one of the upper-level seminars to observe.

She understood, of course, that the department wanted to ensure she was comfortable with teaching a more advanced class in her first year and as well-prepared as she could be. After all, in her previous position she had only taught larger introductory lectures. It was perfectly reasonable to observe a class before she went to teach her own that afternoon.

She had been infuriated to learn that the course she would be observing was Professor Whitethorn’s early-morning seminar on cognitive psychology, but she felt she was making the best of it.

She had been off-kilter the day she’d first met him, and she was sure he’d known he was at an advantage with the way he taunted her. She was less certain why she’d snapped and dragged his face down to hers by his stupid tie when they’d run into each other again near the copier, but she’d assumed it was something they would bury and never speak of again.

Then he had found her in her office three days ago, and the smirk he’d worn as he let himself into the room had told her he was absolutely not going to let her forget it. The things he’d done to her—the things he’d made her feel—had only confirmed it.

And so she’d made a decision that she was going to make him as uncomfortable as possible today. It was only fair, really.

She’d woken up extra early to make certain that she was perfectly presentable, dark pencil skirt perfectly paired with a white blouse and hair neatly braided back. A stop by the campus coffee shop had granted her a large iced coffee with a truly obscene amount of whipped cream, and she’d made sure to pack a notebook and one of her favorite pens as well. To anyone else in the department who’d happened to see her, she would be the epitome of professionalism.

Five minutes into the lecture, though, she’d unbuttoned the top two buttons on her blouse, making eye contact with him the entire time.

She was carefully toeing a line; if anyone other than Whitethorn looked back at her, she needed to appear professional. Similarly, she couldn’t actually disrupt his teaching without getting herself into trouble. But she could deliberately purse her lips around her straw as she sipped her coffee, or lean forward and chew on the end of her pen in a performance of concentration.

By the end of the lecture, Whitethorn was looking thoroughly annoyed. Luckily, she’d checked out his ratings on various websites beforehand and this seemed to be par for the course based on the words of his former students. No one else would have to know.

She casually crossed her legs as students began to file out of the room, feigning innocence when irritated green eyes found hers. Instead of saying anything, she took another sip of her coffee, deliberately ensuring some of the whipped cream lingered on her lips before grinning at him.

As the last student left the room, he walked to the door, closing and locking it before openly glaring at her. Perfect. He was exactly where she wanted him.

She met his glare with an innocent smile. “Do we have a problem?”

“Don’t act like you don’t know what you were doing.”

She finally stood, slowly sauntering toward him with swaying hips. “I was paying attention to your overview of cognitive functions, of course. What else could I possibly have been doing?”

He met her by the lectern at the front of the room, hands resting on either side of her and effectively pinning her against it. “I think we both know you didn’t actually write a single thing down. I’ve had a lot of practice watching how students pay attention, and you decidedly were not.”

“Oh, I was paying attention,” she replied, letting her voice drop to a low purr. “I just may not have been paying attention to what you were teaching, per se.”

Before he could say anything she wriggled away from the lectern, flipping their positions and reveling in the fact that his gaze immediately went to her partially-open blouse. His brow was still furrowed with annoyance, but a closer look revealed a pink tinge to the tips of his ears and his chest rising and falling in rapid, shallow breaths. Yes, she had him now.

Or, rather, she was going to have him.

She licked her lips and watched as his eyes tracked the movement, then arched her back slightly as she undid another button of her blouse. The movement allowed the fabric to slip off of her shoulders, revealing an edge of red lace.

He growled, though he was openly staring by this point. “What on earth are you doing, Galathynius?”

She smirked. “I think you said it best. Don’t act like you don’t know.”

Without another word she dropped to her knees, watching as he gripped the edge of the lectern with white-knuckled hands. The position put his belt at roughly eye level, and she immediately got to work on undoing it.

He inhaled sharply as she freed his cock from the fabric that had been restraining it, and she grinned as she wrapped her hand around it, carefully weighing her options.

Given their previous interactions and the fact that he had to know she was looking to even the score, he probably expected her to toss him over a desk and ride him into oblivion. The thought was certainly tempting, but if she wanted to really catch him off guard…

Aelin smirked. She knew what she had to do.

Slowly, she leaned in and let out a slow exhale, lips parting a mere inch away from the head of his cock. When she saw him grip the lectern more firmly with a hissed fuck, she gave herself a point and glanced up at his face. His head was thrown back in a way that she couldn’t quite see his expression, though she imagined it was somewhere between shock and arousal. At least, she hoped it was. She’d have to wait in order to find out.

That was all right, though. She could be patient when she needed to be.

Finally he looked down at her, brow furrowed in confusion but green eyes hazy with lust. Aelin winked back at him before slowly extending her tongue and laving it over the tip of his cock, never once dropping her eye contact with him. His jaw dropped in a sharp intake of breath before he bit his lip, and if she had to guess he was torn between growling at her to get on with it and waiting to see what exactly she would do.

Luckily for him, she didn’t plan to make him wait any longer.

With one final smirk, she slowly lowered her gaze to the cock before her and wrapped her lips around the tip of it, tongue flattening against the underside. She hummed as if pondering her next move, awarding herself another point when he hissed at the sensation before getting properly to work. They didn’t have long, after all.

Aelin gave him absolutely no warning before sucking him further into her mouth, lips descending as far as she could reach. Once there, she paused for a moment of begrudging delight at the way his cock filled her mouth—just as well as it had filled her elsewhere the last time they had met. The thought made her shiver, but she wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of hearing her moan, not when she was the one meant to be tormenting him this time.

His hips twitched in reaction, as though he was trying and failing to hold himself completely still, but Aelin was already pulling back. Before long, she was grinning up at him again with the tip of his cock resting against her lower lip as her hand wrapped around its base. A flick of her tongue against the slit earned her a muffled groan, and when she looked at his face he was staring back down at her, teeth gritted and lip red as though he had been biting it.

Good. She had him exactly where she wanted him now, and she pressed her thighs together against a wave of arousal at the knowledge that she had undone him so easily.

Knowing that time was short, she got back to work, gently sucking and working her lips in tandem with her hand. Her free hand slid its way under her own skirt, and she pressed a fingertip over her clit through her panties with a gasp. She couldn’t do much to herself in her current position, but that didn’t matter in the slightest, not when she was already so aroused from the situation alone.

A tug on her braid pulled her off of his cock, and she glared up at him to find him doing his level best to glare back down at her. “What are you doing?” he hissed. “You realize we’re in a classroom, I take it.”

She smirked. “Come on, Whitethorn. Where’s your sense of adventure?”

“If someone sees—”

“You locked the door, didn’t you?”

“The door has a window, Galathynius.”

“And we’re not in plain view of the window. As long as you’re quiet, I don’t see the problem.”

He growled, but finally relaxed his grip on her hair, and for a dizzying moment Aelin mourned the loss of the sensation. She didn’t stop to allow herself to examine the feeling, though; there would be plenty of time for overthinking this later. Instead, she took his cock back into her mouth, sucking and licking in earnest now as she worked to get him off as quickly as she could.

Soon enough, he was tugging at her hair again, this time more gently. She looked up at him as best she could with a mouth full of his cock and lifted an eyebrow, only to find he was staring at the ceiling. “Shit, I—”

Oh. Oh, he was trying to warn her. She wasn’t sure whether to be oddly touched by his consideration or offended that he thought she couldn’t take him coming in her mouth. She supposed it didn’t matter one way or the other right now, though. All that mattered was proving to him exactly what she could take.

Determination renewed, she focused her efforts on the head of his cock, sucking firmly as she moved her hand up and down his shaft. Within moments he let out another muffled groan, hand cupping the back of her head as the taste of him flooded her mouth. She swallowed around him a few times, using her hand to coax the last few drops out of him before neatly tucking his cock back into his pants. A few moments rearranging his clothing and soon enough it would’ve been difficult for anyone else to tell anything had gone on to begin with.

Aelin knew, though. She could see it in the way his fingers still gripped the edge of the lectern, in the pink tinge to his neck and the wildness in his eyes.

It was easy enough to button up her blouse again and straighten her skirt once she stood up, and a quick smoothing of her hand down her braid told her he hadn’t yanked any of her hair out of place. She was as put together as she reasonably could be, though she was sure that her lips would be red and swollen and that she would be wearing a satisfied flush. She was unbelievably wet, too, but her clothes were concealing that readily enough and she could take care of that momentarily.

For now, she simply shot Whitethorn another lazy wink. “You’re welcome.”

Before he could muster the brainpower to reply she was already sauntering out the door, closing it behind herself with a grin and a triumphant sip of the last dregs of her coffee. Yes, that had gone even better than she’d hoped.

~*~*~

Tagging:

@ireallyshouldsleeprn @queen-of-glass @fangirlprincess09 @sassys-world @morganofthewildfire @superspiritfestival @perseusannabeth @sis-it-dont-add-up @jlinez @julemmaes @emilyoftheshadows @thegoddessofyou @mymultiversee @swankii-art-teacher @rowansfirebringer @livsdriverslicense @courtofjurdan @danibutterr @woollycat22 @rowaelinismyotp- your tag isn’t working! Sorry! @sleeping-and-books @acciowests

#haven writes #rowaelin #hot professors #see look I can post smut at a perfectly reasonable hour local time

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stillness-in-green · 3 years

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I felt like the plf war was rushed

1.Plf advisors getting hype but no payoff

2.Only miruko, Momo, and Kirishma got time to shine

3.Machia got defeated to easily

4.The war felt more like a raid

I don't know if I feel like it was rushed, per se--it's by far the longest arc in the story so far by number of chapters, and would be even if you cut off the Tartarus jailbreak and the entirety of the hospital aftermath. What it absolutely does feel like to me is unbalanced.

You note that the "war" feels more like a raid, and you're right. As a caveat, it's worth keeping in mind that "Paranormal Liberation War" as a name for the arc in question is entirely an invention of the fanbase. To the best of my knowledge, the reasoning for the name was that big action shonen series like BNHA (Naruto, Bleach, Hunter x Hunter, etc) always have a war arc, so what we were seeing in the lengthy, mass combat confrontation with the PLF had to be HeroAca's equivalent. It's not a term that's in the manga itself, however, not called as such by the characters, not referred to as such by Horikoshi or his editors, not even namedropped in chapter or volume titles. If it feels like a raid, that's probably because that's what it was intended to be.

And that's the problem, really. This arc shouldn't have been about a couple of raids; it should have been about a war.

(Below the cut: a bunch of fired-up complaining. Uses some harsh language, and talks about both injuries and deaths we did see and some we logically should have.)

From the outset, we were told that the resources Shigaraki had amassed were "on par with, or even stronger than" the resources of the hero-saturated society. Yet, we're expected to believe that a force that strong is so easily taken down by a single coordinated set of raids? Yes, the heroes had the benefit of surprise, but there's just so much that doesn't work for me.

First off, and to get this out of the way, it's ridiculous that the heroes even had the benefit of surprise. The MLA had an unknown number of hero double agents. They had people in the government; they had people in the infrastructure. This is an organization that had been living undercover completely unsuspected for multiple generations--how did the HPSC ever manage to carry out a massive, country-wide investigation on such a secretive group and coordinate multiple simultaneous, comprehensive raids without a single person finding out and alerting the higher-ups over a period of only three and a half months?

When exactly did Hawks have time to go and revive Best Jeanist--which he tells us he did personally--such that none of the bugs and micro-cameras he was covered with picked up on it, and both he and BJ could be back in the positions they needed to be in for the raid to begin?

How did Skeptic find out about the raid such that he only discovered it at the last possible second and not minutes, even hours, before it kicked off? How did hundreds of heroes (and even "hundreds" is being conservative, given the fact that they had seventeen thousand people to detain) close in on the villa without anyone from the PLF noticing, either Skeptic with his information network or mundane precautions like people on watch?

Even granting the heroes their surprise advantage--which I don't want to--if the advisors were all supposedly "stronger than the average hero," why didn't we see any of them winning? Okay, yes, Hose Face beat Midnight, but he had every possible advantage in that "fight"; I hardly count it as some big impressive defeat that shows us that the villains were holding their own.

Here's another thing: the MLA styled themselves as an army--they were demonstrably trained in troop tactics. When we saw them in Deika, even their nameless on-the-ground people were capable of coordinating with each other on the fly in response to the movements of the enemy, as we saw come up repeatedly:

Yeah, they were off-guard at first, but as soon as the advisors made the front line (which, you'll note, was immediately), that disadvantage really should have begun eroding. Certainly once Geten--Geten! The number one MLA member most willing to disregard collateral damage! And there he was being a proper leader!--got to the front and started yelling orders, we should have seen the PLF rallying, and I can't imagine any sensible justification for the tides not turning when a) Re-Destro showed up to occupy the highest-ranked hero on the field, b) a bunch of heroes peeled off to try to stop Machia only to get trampled for their efforts, and c) Trumpet got dug out.

You know who don't style themselves as an army, though? Heroes. Oh, they get some basic lessons in cooperation as students, but the extent of such lessons we see is stuff like "why it's important for heroes to have signature moves"--so that on group missions, their reputations will precede them and fellow heroes will already know their shtick. U.A. teaches the odd lesson plan that involves the kids fighting in groups, but there's a huge difference between you and 3 to 6 of your buddies fighting a similarly-sized group in a practice fight, or a handful of heroes teaming up to take down some criminal low-lives, and the mass combat scenario that was the raid. For heaven's sake, look at our closest other equivalent: the raid on the Hassaikai base. At every turn in that encounter, the heroes let themselves get split up and picked off, winnowing down their numbers. It's even explicit in the narrative that hero team-ups were, in the age of All Might, uncommon, and heroes are only just beginning to adjust to fighting in teams. The erstwhile MLA should have had the advantage there.

As to Machia's defeat, I think the big problem with it is not how it happened, per se, but the timescale involved. The plan itself was sound enough, and even with all the kids' efforts, it still took Machia reaching Shigaraki and not getting any new orders to follow to really do him in. Given what we can extrapolate about his movement speed, though, I just don't think the kids should have had time to set all those traps, especially given how much of that equipment would have had to be fabricated by Momo on the fly. I know she's gotten stronger and all, and good for her, but you're telling me that in the four months between Joint Training and the raid, she went from passing out because she created a bag of goodies and one (1) cannon to being totally fine and still able to coordinate her fellow students while cranking out 23 jars of sedative, dozens of feet of rope/cable, multiple fire-resistant coats, explosives they somehow had time to bury, and three cannons?

For fuck's sake, Jirou gave Machia's ETA as under ten seconds. Yeah, Mount Lady slowed him down, but "only a little"--how much time could she possibly have bought them, that the kids were able to to coordinate and enact everything that plan involved?

You guys, go read this post by @codenamesazanka. Machia is so fast. So unbelievably, incredibly fast. "Twice as fast as the fastest train in the world" fast. "Horikoshi clearly did not stop to think about the distances involved here" fast. Three miles in ten seconds fast. It would have been hard enough to square with the needs of the plot that the kids were sufficiently far from the villa to have the kind of time they needed to swing Momo's plan at all, but Horikoshi explicitly letting Machia get right on top of them before the kids even start just makes it completely impossible for me to credit. Machia clearly being slower aboveground than he is when burrowing does not make that much difference to my suspension of disbelief.

My other big complaint? More people should have died, for real. The PLF warriors would not have been holding back. They were ready and willing to kill anyone they came up against. The heroes did have to hold back, because heroes, as we're told over and over again, are not supposed to kill, no matter how dire the circumstances. That difference in ability to exercise force should have been yet another significant advantage for the PLF. I could write an entire list of characters that I think could have reasonably been killed during the raids. That wouldn't be to say that I think any individual, specific character on that list should have died, just that, based on the parameters as they were presented to audience, some number of them should have.

I mean, honestly. How did Horikoshi wanna show us Gang Orca's unmoving claw in the wake of Machia's passage and not have Gang Orca on the list of the dead? How did Fat Gun run right into a mass melee and still have enough fat left over afterward to survive getting trampled by a walking mountain? How did Thirteen survive not getting pulled out of the hospital basement when Shigaraki's Decay hit? How did Trumpet survive getting a staircase dropped on top of him? How did Gran Torino survive a fist through his tiny old man chest cavity?

I could go on and on, but it's not just about the deaths, either. I'm not saying that Kamui Woods necessarily should have died by swinging himself face-first into a blast of blue fire, but I am saying that he should have been out of commission for longer than three goddamn days. You bet your ass I'm saying that after telling us that Hawks' weak point is fire, making us watch him spend at a solid minute or more with his wings wholly enveloped in Dabi's 2000 degree flames, and having Dark Shadow exclaim that his back is completely burned away, Hawks should never have grown his wings back, much less so quickly that they were already visible under his shirt a single day later.

More deaths, more maiming--heck, even more retirements. I'm not saying I love that kind of thing in my fiction--I don't, actually. I think an overreliance on it is a sign of edgelordy nonsense. But the scenario that we had demanded to be treated with the kind of gravity that would have led to such an outcome. To set up a conflict like the raid and have the villains only barely be able to scrape a partial escape, to try to tell us that Shigaraki's victory in Deika granted him such a terrifyingly powerful force only to have them lose every battle they got into, to tell us this was a blow that shook Hero Society to its core, only to be so unwilling to kill or retire any heroes the audience cares about that Midnight is literally the only significant loss… It doesn't work. None of it works.

I don't have much to say on which characters did or didn't get a highlight. I think there were a few more people than you listed that got some good scenes--Tokoyami and Uraraka both got material I liked quite a bit; Dabi famously out-trended the U.S. presidential election on Twitter when he (literally) came clean, and Mr. Compress gave us some wonderfully interesting and characteristically opaque material to chew on. On the whole, though, adding more character moments would only have been dragging out the problem: the scale of the PLF's threat and the HPSC's chosen method of dealing with it are simply incompatible with the feeble "neither side truly won or lost" resolution we got.

And that's my rant on that--thanks for the ask!

#and yet #i still hate it less than the shitshow that went down with lady n and overhaul #inkbuckets #paranormal liberation front #meta liberation army #bnha #stillness has salt #stillness answers

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aot-snk-4238 · 3 years

Text

My thoughts on AOT No Requiem (Fanmade Ending) Part 1:

With another chapter of this story coming out soon, I thought now would be a good time to share my thoughts on the first part. Before I do that, though, I have a few things that I would like to get off my chest.

A part of me hates that this project exists. Not because I find it disrespectful, but because it serves as a bitter reminder of what a complete mess this ending caused among many fans. I'm still in disbelief how things got so bad so quickly. First, you've got the people who hated it. People began turning on Isayama and calling him a terrible or incompetent writer, regretting ever getting into the series, insisting that it was worse than Game of Thrones, the list goes on and on. People who liked the ending are now endlessly referred to as "ending defenders" or more crude names like "Isayama cockriders," as though they're a bunch of incompetent fools who don't know the first thing about reading comprehension all because they just happened to like it. And then of course you've got the other extreme end of the spectrum where the ones who were disappointed are accused of not understanding the story or they're only upset because their favorite ship or fan theory didn't become canon. This, too, is very demeaning and invalidating for those who grew up with this series that they gave their heart to and cherished for so long, only to have it do what they felt was a complete 180 at the very last second that undid every part of the story they thought was special and unique. It's one of the hardest slaps to the face you can get as a reader and long-time fan, and while I can't fully relate to everyone's feelings, I can at least understand and acknowledge that it's there and it shouldn't be laughed at. Now with all of that out of the way, here are my thoughts and analysis of this fanmade ending and how it differs from Isayama's.

To start things off, I found that part 1 started off similar to how 137 did in the canon manga, with Armin and Zeke conversing in PATHS. The biggest difference would be kid Eren being transported there and seeing his older self. To be fair though, this chapter was only about half the length of what we're used to reading, so I'm sure we'll get a lot more in part 2 onwards.

While Zeke is enlightening Armin on the history of the earth and how the life form that attached itself to Ymir sought to avoid death forever, young Eren is in PATHS too with his older self, witnessing the moment Ymir found the tree and fell in it to become the first titan. At first, there is no dialogue exchanged between them. They just hold hands and watch. Meanwhile, Zeke is still talking to Armin about Ymir and how she continued to serve her oppressive master despite acquiring godlike powers that would allow her to obliterate him whenever she pleased. This is where the team working on this project attempt to provide their own alternate possibilities as to why this happened in a way that would make more sense than what we were given in the canon story in which she simply had a severe case of Stockholm Syndrome and couldn't let him go no matter how much he made her suffer.

So what are these new possibilities? They come in the form of a question, so their validity is not made absolutely certain, but they're presented as the most likely candidates nonetheless.

According to Zeke, she was unable to separate her own desires from King Fritz and was a lost girl who sought meaning. A place to belong. Tragically, King Fritz was the only connection she had in her life, so she clung to it with everything she had despite it being toxic and abusive. I could argue that these are the very reasons why she supposedly loved the king in the official manga, as explained by Eren in 139, but they weren't explained or touched on as plainly as they were here. I feel like they could have been if Isayama had just been given more time, but sadly the whole thing was rushed and underdeveloped.

Moving on, Zeke states that despite his efforts in trying to understand Ymir and her feelings, it was Eren who ultimately was able to get to her and offer her the choice of freedom. The next page transitions to young Eren standing in the clouds with his arms spread out and a smile on his face just like in the official 137, only this time 19yo Eren is next to him. Now I'm going to be honest here, this is where things started to get a little corny for me. Yeah. I know a lot of people hate that argument, but that's just how it felt to me. And before I say anything else, I want everybody to know that I am in no way about to mock anyone's fondness of this Eren over the one we saw in 139, even if it was a little over-the-top. It's perfectly fine to prefer one over the other, I'm just going to try to explain myself the best I can without coming across as harsh or unprofessional.

Eren is drawn in these panels to be a stone-faced, determined and unstoppable force who will "keep moving forward until his enemies are destroyed." This is the Eren that many people grew most familiar with throughout the series, despite his occasional breakdowns, but something about the way it was executed just felt a little too overdramatic and exaggerated. For me, the contrast between this Eren and the Eren we were presented with in 139 is too jarring. It came across to me as the fandom's idealized version of Eren, the "chad" Eren if you will, rather than Isayama's portrayal of Eren who is cold and determined, but has also been experiencing stunted mental growth ever since the day he saw his mother get eaten; side note: I know that Eren himself was responsible for his mother's death, but that's a discussion for a later time. Not only that, but the "keep moving forward" line starts to get overused at this point. We already heard Eren say this a number of times before 137 where this first fanmade chapter takes place, so I didn't find it necessary to include that at the end, but it seemed to be the writers' way of trying to reinforce Eren's ultimate goal.

Regarding the rest of the chapter, young Eren asks older Eren what Ymir is still waiting for after he showed her that she's not alone. 19yo Eren proceeds to explain that while he was able to make her feel something again, she still needs somebody to free her. He shows his younger self all of the visions from PATHS that he's seen so far, ranging from past events to alternate realities to things that couldn't be changed no matter what. Now there is only one path left that he strives toward. The one that he believes will grant him and his people freedom. This next line is the one that stood out to me the most throughout this fanmade chapter. Still talking to kid Eren, adult Eren says, "When you wake up, you will forget what you learned, but not what you felt here. This will all feel just like a long dream." Only when he kisses Historia's hand will it all come back to him. This line more clearly explains why Eren woke up crying in chapter 1, but couldn't remember why. Then he circles back to how he intends to carry out his own plan to end the cycle of hatred once and for all. Despite his efforts along the way, he couldn't change the flow of PATHS and save the friends he lost or prevent certain events from happening altogether, so he had to accept that sacrifices had to be made. In this case, he will have to literally sacrifice the world, much to Armin's horror.

To wrap this up, I'm going to finish comparing this to the canon 137, but since the first part of this project only covers the PATHS portion of it, that's where I'll stop as well. To save a little but of time, I'm just gonna be lazy and copy the first part of a quick overview of the chapter I found as part of the wiki:

So clearly, canon 137 starts off focusing a lot more on Armin and Zeke's differing philosophies and does not provide any further insight into Eren's ultimate motives like this one does, at least not yet. Armin and Eren are bound to face off soon in this fanmade version, but it looks to me like this time the writers are planning on flipping the outcome and having Eren come out victorious instead, especially when I remember the name of this project and what it's based on. I guess that means that in a way, I already know what's ultimately going to happen throughout the rest of this project. Whether it's going to be considered superior to the actual ending is going to depend on if its executed properly. I could very well be wrong about some of this, though. I want to give it a fair shot since these people have clearly put a lot of hard work and passion into this, so I will refrain from further judgement until we get the full picture. On a side note, I just want to say that the artwork is beautiful so far and I commend every artist responsible for their efforts. I also liked the song choice at the beginning and thought it set the mood pretty well.

Thank you to everyone who read the whole thing. This took me far longer to write than it should have because I'm not always good at expressing myself in a way that does not come across as confusing or contradictory. I will continue to share my thoughts as more content is released, which by the looks of it could be any day now.

#snk #aot no requiem #snk fanfiction #snk manga #snk 137 #armin arlert #zeke jaeger #eren jaeger #ymir fritz

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codedredalert · 3 years

Text

atop the wall, wisdom cries out [One Piece, Robin] -- oneshot

Robin-centric character study || 1052 words

She has the split-second to wonder if all great turning points in history are like this—destiny at the mercy of a momentous decision—

(Written for the OP Tarot Project High Priestess and Eight of Wands cards.)

High Priestess Upright: Intuition, insight, sacred knowledge, things yet to be revealed, reflection. Reversed: Secrets, information withheld, disharmony.

Eight of Wands Upright: Movement, action, alignment, abrupt changes, quick decisions. Reversed: Delays, frustration, resisting change, internal alignment.

Explanations of references in the end notes.

Warnings: canon-typical violence

(On Ao3)

===/\===

(1) Lesson: A cup of water is not yours until you drink it. Likewise, knowledge.

All scholars of Ohara memorise via the method of loci, and Nico Robin, at eight years old, is no exception. Her favourite is a temple hewn from stone, a wise king's magna opus as reconstructed from academic blueprints. There, she stores the lessons she learns: a kind elderly lady still calls for the marines in the night after she's fed you; a knife in the hands of a frightened child can still slit a soldier's throat; a powerful man is still not quite immune to the intrigue of a beautiful woman.

She drinks deeply from the cup of knowledge and suffering, and two pillars form in the forefront of the temple. The first is who she has always been—the pursuit of good things, knowledge for knowledge's sake, building up, preserving, and leaving a legacy for all humanity. The other is who she discovered she was when the world government placed a bounty on her head—an immovable strength, manifesting in guile, bloodshed, and conquest.

Her surprise is only at how readily she accepts these as her foundation—the twin load-bearing columns of the woman she now is.

===/\===

(2) Aphorism: Scientia potestas est. (Translation: Knowledge is power.)

"Read it," demands Crocodile. Then he raises a hand to call her to pause and adds, almost smugly, "Out loud."

He thinks he's clever. Robin smiles. He's not stupid, but Robin is really, really clever.

She hadn't intended deception when she'd first sought out the most comprehensive history of Alabasta. (Three archaic hand-scribed manuscripts and a yellowed but hardly-used guide. It was technically restricted access, though that hardly mattered in the face of Robin's devil fruit.) She had merely wanted to know—the first pillar of Nico Robin.

She recites this knowledge from memory, trailing her fingers along the runes of the poneglyph before her, retrieving the words verbatim as she walks through the temple rooms in her mind. She fully expects Crocodile to interrupt her, to point to one word or the other and demand its meaning. She already has the textbook explanation on why translation is an imperfect art on the tip of her tongue. She doesn't get that far.

He's never been a patient man, especially when it comes to failure.

(3) Quote: Death never takes a wise man by surprise; he is always ready to go.

He deals her a mortal wound and leaves her to bleed out in the collapsing tomb of this country's kings. The age-old stone crumbles and groans, weary and slow to return to dust. She closes her eyes and waits.

It's surprisingly peaceful.

(4) Comment: As implied ibid, "life is full of surprises". (5) Fallacy: Appeal to pity.

Straw Hat Luffy saves her and she demands 'why' but receives no answer. As she dusts herself off, she decides a fitting consequence for his unwelcome charity. She invites herself to his crew.

A strange group—they actually accept her, welcome her into their lives and their home despite being enemies three days before.

Over time, she learns that if she drops into a light doze below deck beside Nami, the next morning will come with warmth, the smell of breakfast wafting in from the adjoining kitchen, and that strange, unconditional acceptance.

(6) Study: Repeated exposure to similar situations without negative stimuli result in dissociation of situation and stimuli.

. . . and she is . . . happy?

(7) Supra (4).

===/\===

(8) Truism: Nothing lasts forever. (9) Quote: Only a fool can be happy.

The government finds her, as they have many times before. This time, however, she can't bring herself to offer these people as sacrifice in her place. She tries desperately to think of an alternative to the offer laid before.

She becomes the illusion of stillness, there is no stillness in her. Her mind is structure and movement all at once—the earth in revolution beneath the temple's foundation stone. Her mind moves as the celestial bodies, a million miles a minute, yet imperceptible. She is perfectly grounded as the centrifugal force tears her apart.

A lifetime ago, she was taught to smile when she wants to cry, so she smiles now. A mind built by the wisest men in history and it yields no solutions, so what use is it? What use is she? She's only good for secrets, sabotage, and smiles like sweet poison.

Even the greatest temple cannot stand forever.

(10) Quote: The only way to have a friend is to be one. Nb. This implies friends are worth having. Comment: The author agrees. (11) Quote: There is nothing worth living for, unless it is worth dying for. (12) (Non-)issue: Hobson's choice. (13) Principle: Occam's razor.

She takes the offer.

===/\===

(14) Policy: No man left behind.

The friends she tried to save came for her. They stand in proud defiance of the authorities that have wronged her all her life, figures of would-be legend backlit by the sun, their shadows stark and black, bridging the deep chasm she stands on the other side of, alone.

It borders on the absurd. They shouldn't have, it makes no logical sense. And yet, there they stand.

(15) Quote: When we are no longer able to change a situation, we are challenged to change ourselves.

She fails to understand and finds that for once, she does not need to know. Equally illogical hope wells up in her. (The temple is shored up, its glory to be restored. Not yet, but in the future promised.)

"Say you wanna live," shouts Luffy, and he waits for her answer, as if he has all the time in the world. As if time itself will yield to his force of will.

It almost does. The mad rush of adrenaline blocks all noise except the rush of blood in her veins, her captain's voice ringing in her ears. She has the split-second to wonder if all great turning points in history are like this, destiny at the mercy of a momentous decision, all the world in bated breath.

She doesn't stop to wonder if she dares. The second pillar of her identity commands her to be bold.

(16) Proverb: Fortune favours the bold.

"I want to live," she cries across the divide—

—and—

(17) Supra (4).

—she is saved.

===/ENDNOTES\===

At the risk of these notes being longer than the actual fic (I got too hyped by the thought of pseudo-academic formatting and used way too many probably-obscure references), here's helpful notes so you don't have to ask google:

the method of loci— (loci being Latin for "places")— is a strategy of memory enhancement which uses visualisations of familiar spatial environments in order to enhance the recall of information. The method of loci is also known as the memory journey, memory palace, or mind palace technique.

magna opus— Latin for "great work", especially the greatest achievement of an artist or writer.

aphorism— an observation which contains a general truth/ a concise statement of a scientific principle, typically by a classical author.

ibid— a citation signal to refer to a single work cited in the note immediately preceding. The abbreviation of ibidem, being Latin for "in the same place".

supra— a citation signal used to refer to an earlier-cited authority. Supra is Latin for "above".

truism— a statement that is obviously true and says nothing new or interesting.

nb— a citation signal to draw the reader's attention to a certain aspect or detail of the subject being discussed. The abbreviation of nota bene, which is Latin for "note well".

Hobson's choice— A forced or false choice. It is believed that the phrase derives from Thomas Hobson (1545–1631) who ran a horse rental business in England. He rented out horses but insisted that customers took the horse nearest the stable door. The choice his customers were given was "this or none"; making it effectively Hobson's choice of horse. — (source)

Occam's razor— Occam's razor (or Ockham's razor) is a principle from philosophy that the simplest solution is usually the best one.

===/END\===

(On Ao3) ( patreon ) ( kofi ) ( paypal )

#nico robin #monkey d luffy #sir crocodile #alabasta #ohara #one piece #one piece fanfiction #one piece fanfic #opfanfic #op fanfiction #op fanfic #op #my writing #mine #tarot

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lelenoir · 4 years

Text

pairings: childhood friend!dong sicheng x reader [ft. wong yukhei]

word count: 3.6k

synopsis: wherein sicheng always thought that he would spend the rest of his life with you. only to be smacked with the bitter truth.

dedicated to: engel @jenoir, the no to my noren.

inspired by: the song it's over, isn't it? from steven universe

note: hellooo finally got this out after rotting away for days hehe. anyways i hope you like it!! it'll probably be my last fic for a while since school and stuff and also my other blog. this was supposed to be a small drabble but i guess the universe had other plans KSKSK

DONG SICHENG ALWAYS LOVED YOU.

It was always written in his stars, always engraved in stone and he always believed that the moment he laid eyes on you he was struck by Cupid's bow and arrow. Of course, he never noticed this until later on.

It happened in your local playground. The tall---at least in his standard---five year old boy buzzing with joy as he rode his bike across the street. His hair flowed freely with the wind as he fought the urge to raise his hands up. Legs pedalling as if he was in a race against the fastest cyclists around the globe. The world blurred in his vision, pure bliss coursing through his veins. As a toddler, he didn't want that moment to end.

Unable to contain it any longer, the boy slowly let go of the handles, ghosting the rubber for a few more moments until he finally decided to let it go. For him, in his toddler state of mind, nothing could compare to the feeling he felt that moment. The street of his small childhood town zooming all around him as he let the world's breath engulf him. It looked like what Luke Skywalker saw whenever he drove a spaceship in that movie his brother always watched.

The moment only lasted for five seconds. It all happened so fast. One minute he was on top of the world, the next he was tumbling down fast. The ground hitting him hard. His hands were quick to hold on to his wounded knee as soon as he landed, eyes closed from the pain and a strong hiss leaving his lips. Tears welled up in his eyes as he watched the blood on his exposed flesh. He groaned when he tried to touch it.

"That was stupid." Three simple words. One simple statement. And you had his whole attention on you. Eyes wide from shock but you mistake it as confusion. "What you did. That was stupid." You repeated as if he was dumb. A dull look rested on your eyes as you looked down on him. It took him by surprise when he saw your extended arms in front of him. He couldn't help but gawk at the gesture. "What? Aren't you gonna take it?"

Slowly, he did. Gulping slightly as he stood up, wincing once he felt the sting of his wound. "It's just a graze. Nothing serious." You spoke up once again. His eyes looking towards your face, only to see you staring at his knee. "Do you need help walking?" You asked, finally meeting his gaze.

He was speechless. He'd never talked to anyone that wasn't his brother or his classmates. He rarely ever talked to the girls in his class, in fear of the disease his brother dubbed as cooties.

"You okay?" You quirk an eyebrow at him, making him flinch up in alertness. His hands felt slightly clammy as he clenched and unclenched them.

"Yeah…" he trailed off, voice barely a whisper. He saw you break into a smile. It shook him to the core. Especially with how intimidating you've presented yourself to be. He didn't know why but he wanted to see it again.

"So… walk?" You asked once more. It was like a switch had been turned on inside of you. Sicheng felt a bit confused on what to feel about the current change in aura as he slightly nodded his head in reply. You hummed, nodding your head once as you made your way to his fallen bike. You pulled it up with such ease. Even he had a difficult time carrying the heavy thing. You steadied the bike with your hands, walking to him as you let the bike trail next to you. "Where do you live?"

Sicheng should've felt embarrassed. After all, a girl, of all people, was walking him home. Him. It should've been the other way around. He felt like an utter loser having tears threatening to spill from his eyes while a girl carried his bike for him. He sighed, preparing himself for his brother's endless teasing.

"What's your name?" He spoke up, halfway through the walk. So far none of you thought of initiating into another conversation, basking in each other's company in the form of silence. "I'm Sicheng, Dong Sicheng."

You didn't even flinch at his question. "Y/n" you replied, eyes never leaving the path ahead until you turned your head to look at him for a second before turning back once again. "It's nice to meet you."

"It's nice to meet you too, y/n." Maybe it was his pea sized brain or just his lack of comprehension but you clearly didn't want to start a conversation. "What school do you go to? I don't think I've ever seen you around."

"I'm homeschooled." You answered. "My mom teaches me." Sicheng gaped at the revelation, never ever meeting someone like you.

"That's so cool!" He exclaimed. "I wish I was homeschooled. That way I won't have to wake up too early just to get to school."

You only hummed in reply, ready to fall back into your comfortable silence. Sicheng suddenly gasped. "That means you don't get to see other kids!" He says it like it was the biggest breakthrough of the century. "Doesn't it get very lonely?" He laid his head to the side in question.

"Not really," you shrugged, "I'm kind of used to it."

He gasped once again. "You shouldn't though."

"'Life isn't always what you expect it to be.' is what my mom told me a lot. I guess I just preferred to accept it rather than dwell on it too much." You explained, keeping your expression as undecipherable as possible. It drove five year old Sicheng's brain crazy.

"Then I'll be your friend." He declared, pointing his thumb on his chest. "Heck, I'll be your best friend!" He shouts joyfully.

Your eyes widened at his words, not really used to such enthusiasm. Still, a small smile cracked on your features once again. He didn't know if you saw it but Sicheng felt his eyes beam up at the sight of it. You nodded your head. "Okay."

A proud smile adorned the little boy's face, not minding his previous concerns as he walked alongside you. The wound still hurt from walking but his mind seemed to have flown elsewhere, its current occupation slightly numbing the pain of his nerves.

You were the coolest girl he's ever met.

DONG SICHENG LOVED YOU UNKNOWINGLY.

Barefaced and a little tired, you laid your body down on the grass next to him. You sighed, eyes up the stars as Sicheng took it all in. Not the night sky but you. A content smile on his features as he indulged himself with your presence.

"First day of school…" you breathed out. "I wonder how everything would turn out."

He noticed the way your fingers toyed amongst themselves, saw how your breathing slowly turned erratic. In all the years Sicheng has known you, this is the first time he's ever seen you this nervous. Tomorrow was the start of highschool for the both of you. For Sicheng, he wasn't nervous. Maybe a small bit but that was normal as first day jitters. You, on the other hand, were a different story. It was your very first time coming to school after being sheltered by your mom for so long. Sure she never intended it and it was mostly your refusal to go to school that made her teach you in the first place, but none of that helped calm your nerves.

A billion questions rang in your head. A billion possibilities playing along with it. You were in a whirlpool of your own thoughts and you were gasping for air.

Luckily, Sicheng was there to pull you out. His hand intertwining with yours as he drew circles to calm you down. He knew that always calmed you. He felt your body relax next to him. A good sign. He smiled at his small accomplishment.

"Don't worry," he tightened his hold on your palms but not to the point where it would hurt. Only to make you feel his presence more. "I'll be right here."

Highschool rolled in as normally as it could. You were nervous as you walked down the halls but you kept your face relaxed. Sicheng's presence next to you adds up to your ease as he tries to tell you as much as he can about school. Still, knowing Sicheng, he wasn't really as social and loud as he was with you. In these halls he tried to put up a mask for your sake. He smiled at unfamiliar people, nodded his head whenever they greeted him and even said a few 'hi's and 'hello's just to ease your doubt.

With that you smiled. And god he would never get tired of that sight. For a moment the two of you didn't move. For a moment it was just you and him. For a moment he let himself fall for you. He wished he could stay there with you, not a care in the world as he held on to your gaze. He thanked the stars for bringing you to him.

Sadly, even that moment had to end.

He was never one for crowds but seeing your guarded position and tense posture made him want to assure you that everything was going to be okay. He offered you an assuring smile which you returned gratefully.

The bell rang, snapping the both of you back to reality. He took your hand in his, drawing circles on it like he always did. "Your class is here. If you need me I'm right across your room." He said pointing towards the wooden door a few feet away. Just then, he enveloped both his hands around yours. "I'm always here, okay?"

You sighed in relief. A firm smile on your lips as you nodded. "Okay."

With that, he lets you go. He stepped back from you, waiting for you to walk in. You straightened up your posture before turning around. You closed your eyes, preparing yourself for whatever was on the other side of the door. Counting the seconds in your head before walking inside.

Sicheng smiled proudly at your back. He waited until you turned to your left towards the chairs before he too went on his way.

You've watched plenty of teen movies to know that you should never pick the seat in front. You looked around the unfamiliar faces of the people in the room. Some eyed you curiously while most had their head on their arms, presumably asleep. You couldn't blame them, it was the first period of the first day of school. All those times running around or sleeping in during the summer before suddenly getting thrusted into school was probably annoying.

You claimed your spot by the second to the last chair by the window. You rested your cheek on the palm of your hand as you looked out, admiring the sky and the gray roads.

"Hey there," a voice spoked up. You lifted your head to see a boy. He had a big beaming smile on his face as he settled his things on the chair next to you. "I'm Xiaojun."

You watched him curiously, pursing your lips for a second before turning your gaze back to the window. "Y/n."

DONG SICHENG REALISED HE LOVED YOU WAY TOO LATE.

He often wondered if he could change it. Always counted the different ways, the different scenarios and outcomes everything would've led to. He spent many nights figuring out how he got to this path. This path that he desperately wanted to stray from. Alas, he could never. Life was a road barricaded by formidable iron walls. Once you step on to one path, the other one closes, locking you in.

He waited for you in the halls, by the door of your Psych class. The both of you were in college now. He shifted his footing before turning to the small window on the door, peeking for just a glimpse of you.

It felt weird. He thought to himself, watching you smile from ear to ear at whatever your classmates were saying. It felt like only yesterday when he met you. Closed off and very reserved. It felt so surreal not being the only person to have broken down your walls. For Sicheng, he wasn't jealous. The opposite actually. He felt proud. He loved seeing you with the company of others and loved the way you managed to grow.

Just then, you met his eyes. He smiled, lifting his hand up in a small wave. And there it is. That smile. The one only he could cause. The smile that was reserved only for him. He felt his heart pound in his chest.

One of your classmates pulled your focus away from him. Your features reverted to that easy smile you gave everyone else.

Sicheng felt his cheeks warm at the thought, his feet turning to rest his back on the wall next to your classroom door. He sighed, closing his eyes. He could see your smile as he did so. Flashing before his eyes like a Polaroid trapped in time. Forever displaying your face with that smile he loved so much.

The bell rang loudly across the corridors, making him jump a bit before composing himself. He felt so nervous today for some reason. Something inside him was commanding every bit of his body to leap out. He shook the nerves of his fingertips, taking the time to compose himself.

He waited for you to come out, almost bouncing in joy when you did. "You seem happy…" you tell him, "what's up?"

"Well I just finished all my assignments, got a high grade in an essay I stayed up for, and managed to get the last cheese burger at lunch today. All in all it's not a bad day." He answered cheekily. You rolled your eyes at the response but maintained a lighthearted expression. You smiled softly, the both of you maintaining a slow pace as you walked away from the door.

"Y/n!" A voice called out. You were quick to turn to the voice, Sicheng mimicking the action subconsciously. What greeted you was the sight of a tall panting boy. Sweat on the sides of his head as he tried to catch his breath. "Thank heavens I caught up to you."

Lucas lifted his head up, a playful smile on his face as he looked up at you. Sicheng felt his breath get caught on his throat. A nervous and unsettling feeling resting on the pit of his stomach. He didn't like this. Not one bit.

"Lucas! What a surprise." Sicheng snapped his head towards you, a subtle look of disbelief as he noticed your smile. It wasn't like the others and it wasn't the one that was for him. This was different. Your cheeks were tucked to the highest point below your eyes, face beaming with delight. Happier. Lucas wasn't any different either. A small yet noticeable pink dust spread all across his face. His gaze focused solely on you as if in a trance.

Lucas breathed to his nose, bowing his head a bit before returning back to you. "Are we still going on Friday?" He asked, hopeful.

Sicheng could visibly see you elate with his words. His jaw clenched subconsciously as your whole face grew brighter. No. His palms grew hotter on his sides, his heart pounding nervously as he held on to your next words.

"Sure." And just like that, he felt his heart ache. His previous mood going down in the slumps in an instant. Still, he held his head up high. His face stoic and unwavering. From afar you wouldn't have noticed the storm in his eyes.

"That's great," He heard Lucas sigh in relief. They make eye contact for a brief moment, both of them narrowing at one another before breaking it abruptly. You fail to notice the quick exchange, wrapping your arms around Sicheng's and already pulling him away.

"See you on Friday!" You called out over your shoulder.

Right. Sicheng shouldn't fret. He is your best friend. He's known you ever since you caught him that fateful day with his bicycle. Lucas stood nothing against him when it came to you. He was confident. The air around him lightened as you rested your head on whatever part of his arm you could reach.

"I missed hanging out with you." You whispered. He knew you weren't looking at him. It was a habit of yours to avoid his gaze whenever you grow sentimental. "You're my best friend yet I feel like you're worlds away from me now." You continued. "We're okay, right?"

Sicheng turned to look at you, watching your face contort to a frown. He sighed. He shifted your bodies so the two of you faced each other. He took his arm out of yours before resting both of his palms on your cheeks. "We're okay. Okay?" You smiled sheepishly at his words, nodding your head. He pushed you to his chest, hugging you tightly. You could slightly hear his heartbeat relax, making you sigh. "You're my best friend. We've been through hell and back together. I don't think anything would change that."

He's fine. He assures himself. There had been plenty of guys before Lucas. Plenty that you have downright rejected: Xiaojun from highschool, Hendery during summer and many others after. He shouldn't be worried. In the many years he has known you, he was sure the two of you would end up together. He just needed the right moment.

Sicheng was never one to wear his heart on his sleeve. In fact, you've never actually seen him romantically with a girl. But whenever you felt down in the dumps, he was sure to give his all to you. He'd wrap you up close, shower you with attention and do everything he can to make you feel better. At the same time, Sicheng was also a very emotional kid. Oftentimes it was he who cried on your shoulders and you'd be there to listen. You were each other's support system. The very rock that keeps you grounded. From childhood and now as you both walk wherever.

This was the first time it began to collapse.

He felt the air get knocked out of his lungs, watching as the scene unfolded right before his eyes; the gleeful smile on your face, the mirroring adoration in both your gazes, and finally a chaste but unconcealable kiss. The obvious buzz of love and its first stages oozing out of the two of you and Sicheng could do nothing but watch it all happen.

Friday. He never thought he would hate a day like it. The day before the relaxation of the weekends. The day you used to come to his house for a movie marathon. The day you went back to him with the happiest smile he's ever seen on you. The day he finally lost everything.

Wong Yukhei. He clicked his tongue at the name. Jealousy growing in the deepest depths of his gut, eyes green and angry. Seeing his stupid smile and the noticeable look of triumph on his features. The boy holding you close. Then he looked at you; hair a mess because of the wind with eyes as bright as the sun.

DONG SICHENG NEVER STOPPED LOVING YOU.

It was impossible. A scientific improbability. Not when you still come over during the weekends. Not when you still give him that smile. Not when you hold him so close that for a moment he fools himself to thinking it was all real. Not even when he raised his glass.

He glared at the small box on his hands. Tears brimming his eyes. He felt like he just crashed his bike all over again. Only this time, you weren't there to walk him home.

"A toast," he started, the low baritone of his voice grabbing everyone's attention, "to the newly wed couple, Y/n & Lucas."

It felt painful. Perhaps, the strongest pain he's ever felt. Years ago, he never saw this coming. He was fine. He was fine with all the other men that came into your life. Mostly because he knew no one could've compared to him and the bond you shared. He knew all your favorite movies, all your pet peeves, and everything that made you scared. Yet, he wasn't the one standing by your side right now. He wasn't the groom, the man you were going to spend your life with. He wasn't that.

"It's a miracle how you've managed to put up with her." It was a joke. "Lord knows I barely could." And another one. "Still, she's a very great person." That was real. "And I'm glad she's found someone to spend the rest of her days with." He was not. "We've spent the majority of our lives together as best friends. The day you helped me with my bike was the best day of my life. Lucas, you better take care of her or else." He warned jokingly, glaring playfully at the boy as he chuckled in reply and nodded his head. Sicheng could barely hold it in. "To the Wongs!"

And that was the end. A series of cheers and holler followed right after. You smiled at him and he could do nothing but return it. He watched you turn to Lucas and beam brighter. He sighed.

He wandered out, past the crowd of overjoyed relatives and friends. He pushed the balcony doors open, letting it fall to a close. The first drops of his sorrows slipping down carelessly and he did nothing to wipe them off. The wine in his glass reflected his pitiful expression and all he could do was stare before putting it down hastily. He didn't like the sight. It was over. It was all over. Isn't it?

He felt a strong pang in his chest and he found it hard to breath. He looked over disdainfully at the floor, fist clenched to his sides.

Why can't I move on?

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rachelbethhines · 4 years

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Tangled Salt Marathon - Happiness Is

This is possibly my favorite episode of season two. Yet, it is also the point the where the series starts to fall off a cliff. Only that’s not something that you would realize upon a first watch; just in hindsight and only with some basic knowledge of the behind the scenes drama that led to this and the fall out with the fandom that followed afterwards.

Summary: Rapunzel begins to feel homesick for Corona when she finds an old letter written by her father in one of the many lanterns sent from her previous birthdays. In attempts to uplift her spirits, Rapunzel explores the island and comes across a magical idol that brings instant happiness to whomever possesses it. Rapunzel begins to hallucinate her family and friends back in Corona and soon shares the idol with the rest of the group. However, everyone starts to become obsessive over the idol, desperately wanting it for themselves. Rapunzel tricks everyone into giving her the idol, but when the Lorbs try to help Rapunzel, they fall under the idol's control and soon begin to terrorize the village.

Let’s Start with the First Elephant in the Room; Frederic

So throughout the episode Rapunzel is struggling with being homesick. Which is fair enough, that’s an understable reaction to being on the road for months by now. However, to showcase this Rapunzel keeps seeing hallucinations of her father. There are some other characters too, but her dad is the first person she sees and the only one in Corona with speaking lines. He’s the one to tempt her with the idol.

Did we just forget that Frederic is her abuser?

Look, even if you accept his apology in Secret of the Sundrop and believe he has learned his lesson, that doesn’t just erase the pain he caused her. Her thoughts about her father should be more realistically complex then this. Now add in how she makes a such a clean break from her other abuser, Gothel, but still holds him on a pedestal shows a disturbing bias on the part of the writers.

Also where’s this love for Arianna? You know the only real mother on the show? The show that’s aimed at little girls? The one parent who hasn’t flat out abused the main character yet?

Seriously, Chris, what the fuck?

This is a Missed Opportunity

So part of the reason why I like this episode is that we get insights into each of the characters and their desires. As such this is one of the few episodes where the group actual feels like a group friends. However, Cass’s vision is wasted here.

So at first glance this seems to aline with what we know of the character thus far. She loves her dad and wishes to impress him. That’s only if you take season one into account, though. Later episodes will contradict this goal. If you wanted to set up praise and validation in general as Cassandra’s motives, then here is where that should have happened.

Show her getting a medal, have cheering crowds surround her, have her be a hero, or something. You can’t claim her relationship with her parents as the driving force of behind her later actions if you don’t actually involve one of those parents as part of the resolution to her arc.

Either she lacking attention from her dad or she’s jealous of Rapunzel. You can’t have it be both because those two things don’t intersect. Rapunzel is not and never was a threat to her relationship with her father.

So Umm...I Don’t Think This Plot Point Has the Impact That the Writers Think It Does

So this hilarious, and it is intended to be funny, but it’s not for the reasons that the show gives.

The idea is that this is some shocking revelation. That Rapunzel would never do this under normal circumstances and it’s a hint that the idol is corrupting her.

Only the rest of the series doesn’t aline with that at all. This is just the real Rapunzel behaving as the she normally would but without the usual veneer of excuses.

It’s funny because it’s the show calling out Rapunzel hypocrisy for what it is plainly, not because it’s out of character.

But funny only gets you so far. The show is perfectly happy to play up Rapunzel’s awfulness for laughs, but then conventily ignore it when it comes time for the characters themselves to call her out on it so that she can grow and learn.

The show runs under the sitcom idea that comedy excuses all sins; which then backfires horribly when it tries to be serious and mature.

You can’t joke that the king threw a random person in a stockade for little reason and then expect us to still like him when he persecutes a child. Same applies here.

The sitcom set up only works when there is minimal at stake and all parties involved are equally awful in their own ways.

Then Why Not Just Go Home?

Once again, there’s nothing at stake in season two. Rapunzel has no real reason to be on this trip. Nothing is stopping her from just going home if that’s what she wants. The idol only makes her happy because it shows her want she wants, but she could actually have what she wants as soon as the next ship arrives. So what’s the issue here?

This is why you need external conflict in order to make internal conflicts work. There’s has to be something preventing the main character from achieving her goal or otherwise she just comes across as a dumbass.

And Now Here Comes the Second Elephant; Varian

I have several things to talk about here, and none of them actually concern the scene itself but the creator’s treatment of the character and the show’s fan base.

For you see, Chris did a very, very stupid thing.

He wrote the character driving the plot out of the show. The character who also happens to be the most popular person in the series. Only to then use said character’s VA and this one cameo as promotion for this whole season.

Needless to say, fans were disappointed.

However, the Tangled fandom is exceedingly polite; more so than most. The lack of Varian was met mostly with confusion, and maybe a few off handed jokes, rather than anger. When opportunity arose people naturally had questions concerning the character.

And that’s when Chris put his foot in mouth.

This Tumblr post details how Chris got kicked off the Tangled The Series Discord by bullying a bunch of Varian fans while on there.

https://starxapple.tumblr.com/post/617852117763391488/zhantiri-uuugh-fine-since-people-are-getting

I shan’t get into it fully, but for those who discovered the show after season two had aired, this caused a massive backlash from the fandom.

A good chunk of the fandom just walked away, and rightly so. The few that stuck around despite these remarks found themselves harassed by certain sections of the fandom who saw Chris’s bullying as permission to pursue the same behavior. However, most importantly, the ratings plummeted.

Season one hovered around the the 1 million mark, give or take a five point difference. The first part of season two dropped to half of that, and after this episode and the hiatus it sunk even lower, down to the mid-thirties. That’s over 20,000 people who just jumped ship over this. That’s not a normal decline.

No matter what your personal feelings are of the character of Varian or how he was handled in the show, that’s still a massive PR fassico that cost the series big time.

To add to this mountain of bullshit, there was also a massive walk out of crew members after season one had finished production. Most of them women. They even desperately threw out ‘we’re hiring’ calls to cover this. Which given that’s it’s Disney and that nepotism is usually how one gains employment in the entertainment industry, something unusual must have happened behind the scenes. Especially if most of the people who left were women.

We’ll probably never know what really happened. People don't usually talk about behind the scenes stuff like that due to contracts and the aforementioned nepotism. However, all clues point to Varian.

Something changed at the last minute concerning his story. Chris himself had confirmed as much when discussing the note and the Brotherhood. We also gotten other hints that content was edited out at the last minute. Plus the writing becomes more shoddy as the series goes along, showing how slapped dashed everything is together.

Then there’s the rumors.

I must stress to you that this is only a rumor. As pointed out earlier, most animators aren’t in a position to talk freely about what goes on behind the scenes. Do NOT harass them over it or make things awkward by asking them to clarify this. However it’s been suggested that the female crew warned Chris that removing Varian from season two and re-writing his story, along with making Cass the villain, would be a bad idea before they left and Chris didn’t listen. Much to his folly.

Chris is no longer a Disney employee and has yet to move on to any other projects. He says he left, but I more suspect that Disney just didn't renew his contract and no one has picked him up since. I take no joy in the idea that someone may have lost their job, but if true, then Chris has little to blame but himself.

So What Did Change?

We don't know anything for sure. We know from discussions about the note that there was a proposed Brotherhood plot that involved Varian that was then cut. There was also talks about a Cass and Varian team up in season three.

This was then changed to the Saporian take over, which is foreshadowed in this scene. However even that got edited down and under the flimsiest of excuses.

One of the writers, Ricky, suggested that they thought cutting back to Corona would be too confusing for the audience; which is a load of bull. I mean how poorly do you think of your audience’s comprehension skills that they wouldn’t understand a change of scene or a flashback? Yet you fully expect them to pick up on your lazy foreshadowing involving the mirror? So much so that you sent them on a quest to find it between seasons two and three.

Then there’s this gem from Chris.

Ok ignoring the fact that you so totally could have featured both Gothel and Varian, seeing as they serve two different functions in the story and mean different things to Rapunzel.... What guilt?!!!

Rapunzel doesn’t ever act guilty over anything involving her treatment of Varian.

That’s when you realize Chris isn’t talking about her feeling guilty about Varian’s predicament. He’s saying that Rapunzel feels guilty of leaving her father behind with this ‘dangerous’ criminal. Which is a big fuck you to everyone.

That’s why Frederic is the center focus of Rapunzel’s hallucinations. Why she’s more concerned for his safety over Varian’s trauma. Chris really be out here trying to use the abused 14/15 year old orphan as a scapegoat for the grown ass dictator who ruined countless lives. Because he thinks a grown woman should feel guilty for leaving her abusive father behind and pursuing her life’s dream.

Dude, I try not to assume the worst of people just cause they write fictional characters that I dislike, but Chris really makes things hard not to when he treats his self insert this way.

Oh but we’re not done yet.

When Varian Fans Complain About the Lack of Varian; We’re Complaining About the Lack of a Coherent Plot.

Certain sections of the fandom, bolstered by Chris’s BS, try to act like simply being a Varian fan is grounds for dismissal of any criticism of the show and it’s writing. As if having personal preference for something makes you automatically ‘entitled’ or some such bull. Yet doing so ignores the fundamental complaint that they are making.

We’re not whining about our favorite character not getting enough screen time. No one would have complained about his lack of presence in season two if they had properly resolved his story in season three and had Chris not been a dick to the fans. But it becomes evidently clear as the series goes along that removing Varian left a major hole in the plot. One that makes the entire story and the rest of characters suffer as well.

Think season two is boring? That’s cause they cut out their main villain at the last minute and failed to replace him with anything.

Upset that Hookfoot was brought along for zero reason? He’s the replacement character for Varian who no doubt was going to appear in season two originally.

Wish there was more on the Brotherhood and the Dark Kingdom? Their story impact was greatly reduced when Varian was written out.

Are you a Eugene fan and mad about how the Dark Prince plot went nowhere? That’s cause the original Brotherhood/Dark Kingdom plot was dropped when Varian was.

Dislike how Cassandra’s character was ruined with her villain arc? She was originally meant to be possessed but was changed last minute to be a Varian rip-off in the hopes that she would gain some of his popularity.

Wish Zhan Tiri, Demantius, and the Disciples actually went somewhere and that ZT had coherent plan? That plot were changed last minute to make Zhan Tiri a scapegoat for Cassandra now that her story was changed to replace Varian.

And of course let’s not ignore the character who suffers the most from lack of Varian.... Rapunzel.

Chris’s defense for leaving Varian out of S2 is that it’s “Rapunzel’s Story” and that Varian was only ever a plot device meant to push her along on her quest. Which means that Rapunzel no longer has anyone pushing her along on her quest!!!

All characters are plot devices. If they aren’t there to serve a story function then they need to be cut. Even Rapunzel herself serves a plot function. She’s meant to be the protagonist of a coming of age story. Which means she needs both an external conflict to face and an emotional arc where she grows as a person. Varian is the plot device that serves both of those functions but he’s now been removed and is no longer allowed to serve his original purpose.

Chris reached into the machine while it was running and pulled out one of the main gears and acted like he always meant to do that. He legit sat there and pretended that everything was running smoothly even as smoke poured out and warring alarms blared. He then tried to shove bubble gum in its place hoping no one would notice as everything fell apart around him.

Cause he’s the thing; no idea is without merit. It’s all about presentation. Removing Varian from season three still could have worked, but it required A.) replacing him with another foe and B.) making sure his arc still got a proper conclusion.

I’ll talk more about Varian’s half-arsed redemption when we get to it; but for now let's focus on the more immediate problem. No one thought to give season two an actual overarching conflict in light of Varian’s absence.

That’s a fundamental oversight that pretty much signals that season two was re-written at the last minute. You have an overarching plot in an action adventure show but no main adversary? I refuse to believe that everyone involved was too stupid to do that on purpose; but if they were rushed and lacked a crew because they walked out due to last minute story changes....yeah that’d I buy.

Because there’s more than enough options to go around; Lady Caine, The Baron and Styalan, Hector and/or Adria, Zhan Tiri’s Disciples ect. were all options. So was keeping the rocks a threat, or have Cass start her villian arc earlier; with proper motivation this time. They could have even come up with someone entirely new.

You had over four years to plan this shit out; why is it not more well put together?!

How Come Rapunzel Can Easily Admit Fault to Pascal But Not Anyone Else?

Pascal should have sat perched on Varian’s and Eugene’s shoulders giving Rapunzel ‘I’m done with this’ looks all throughout season three. It’s apparently the only thing that she responds to.

Why is the untalkative camelanion the only one allowed to call out the main character’s BS without going villain?

Conclusion

That’s all there really is to talk about in this story. The actual episode itself is good. It’s the behind the scenes crap that bubbles underneath its surface that needed to be discussed. That way when going forward with the marathon you’ll better see what I’m talking about when I explain how future episode suffered from the lack of planning and foresight.

#Varian #tangled #anti-tangled #anti-rapunzel #cassandra #tangled the series #rapunzel's tangled adventure #tts #rta #king frederic

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ka-za-ri · 4 years

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Descent Pt. 10 (Finale)

ଘ(੭ˊᵕˋ)੭* ੈ✩‧₊˚ IT’S TIME.

Hello! I would honestly really like to thank every one of you who’s read this and encouraged me during this long ride! It’s been a wild one and it’s been an honor to share this smutty smut fest to you all. I’m a little sad that it’s over, but hopefully after some time away from writing this fic I’ll come back and write one last bonus chapter. Because what’s my writing without boning a demon amirite?

Chapter Index and Obey Me! Masterlist: here Ao3 Mirror: Here Part [1] Part [2] Part [3] Part 4: [4] Part [5] Part [6] Part [7] Part [8] Part [9] Part [10]

Pairing: Simeon x Reader Genre: Angst, fluff, smut Wordcount: 7,100 ish Tags: Angst, Fluff, Smut Summary: Accepting and confronting feelings come with the consequence of a fall.

Fall

You had fully intended to go home as usual after a session with Simeon. Even if the post coital cuddles were much desired and needed, he always kept business and personal relations separate. You knew better than to get too attached to the warmth and comfort of his embrace. It pained you to know he would always approach your relationship with a cool detachment and you expected things to be the same as usual this time as well.

The endorphins of such an intense session sedated the both of you, letting you fall into a comfortable doze for a bit. Simeon clung to you as he slept, rousing you from your slumber more than once as his arms wrapped around you tighter. He whimpered from time to time, twitching and clutching you tighter as if you could drive away whatever bad dreams he had. It was strange to see him so possessive, not that you minded. Even if it was only when he slept, he was at least comfortable enough around you to let down his guard a little bit. By the time you needed to leave and catch the last train home, his limbs were tangled with yours and there was no way to move without waking him up.

“Simeon, I have to go…” You protested, trying to pry yourself from him.

He groaned and only pressed himself against you more in his half-asleep state. “No.” He whined. “Stay the night, please. I don’t want to be alone.” His voice was surprisingly quiet and it cracked at the end of his plea.

Your heart skipped a beat at his sudden confession and any desire you had to leave immediately disappeared. “Okay, okay. I’ll stay.” You reassured, patting his arm and his hold on you relaxed just a bit.

Simeon sighed in content and took in your scent when you agreed to stay. His breathing stuttered for a moment as he savored your warmth next to his own. In a rare moment of vulnerability, he allowed himself the chance to indulge in a show of affection. Normally, he would have brought up his walls and politely seen you off. Yet, something prevented him from doing that right away this time. Likely, it had to do with the burning feeling that settled in his chest earlier when he saw you being fucked by Lucifer. The image and the feeling refused to go away, causing him to be needier than usual.

He couldn’t go back to the way things were before when he was simply asking you to do things for the sake of his book. It was impossible to deny that he had budding feelings he needed to confront. The consequences of being too deeply involved in the human realm laid heavily on his shoulders and he didn’t want to think about them when he had you in his arms. He need to recenter himself and stay rational while he tried to figure out a way to reclaim who he was before this all happened. To do that, his feelings had to be carefully locked away. Wearily, he brought up the walls around his heart once more even though your close proximity threatened to tear them down at any moment.

You turned over to look at him and noticed he still had the collar on. Carefully, you helped him out of it. Unbuckling the ornate clasp was surprisingly harder than you anticipated, especially since you didn’t want to hurt Simeon. When it was finally pulled away and thrown to the side, it was hard to not notice how he skin of his neck had been rubbed raw from receiving such rough treatment throughout the night. “I’m sorry,” you whispered, tentatively tracing the tender skin and he winced at the touch.

“Don’t be. I’m alright. I promise.” He reassured, but there was no conviction behind his words. He pulled away from you, ignoring the throbbing around his neck from where the collar had sat for so long.

You decided to leave the issue for the time being. Simeon wasn’t a stranger to harming himself, the long scars on his back was proof of that. Why he thought such self punishments were necessary were beyond your comprehension and you couldn’t begin to think about how to comfort him whenever this habit of his came up. You only had a few canned, rehearsed words that everyone had been taught to say and countless empty promises that you could never keep. You wanted to believe he would reach out for help if he needed it; however, if you knew anything about Simeon, it was that he would never say what he wanted.

“Shall I draw you a bath?” he asked quietly after a long lull of silence. He was staring at a point just past your head, in a daze and not quite focused as he normally was. As if he noticed how zoned out he was, he blinked and made proper eye contact with you. “I’m sure you’re tired, and it’ll give me a chance to change the sheets so you don’t have to keep sleeping on the mess I made.” He smiled softly, already in the middle of getting out of bed to start running the water.

There they were again. Those walls you worked so hard break through had been rebuilt in the short time you had been nodding off in his arms. When you weren’t fully focused on him, he was pushing you gently to the side, distancing himself and the cool detachment was more than a little depressing for you. It felt like with every time you got him to open up, the more he closed off his feelings. You thought you had gotten somewhere when he asked you to stay, but it seemed to be a temporary lapse.

He beckoned you to the bathroom shortly after, the tub was already half full and you could smell the jasmine oil he had put in there to help ease the aches and pains away. If anything, you thought he deserved a bath more than you did, but he was adamant about attending to your needs first and foremost. “Please take as much time here as you’d like. I’ll get a robe for you in a bit.” He turned to take his leave but you stopped him, holding onto his hand and tugging him closer.

“Won’t you stay? You need to get cleaned up too, don’t you?”

He smiled, though the emotion didn’t reach his eyes. “Unfortunately, the tub is not large enough for two.” He reasoned.

Before you could further insist that he stay by your side, he was already through the door and off to change the sheets like he said he would.

You sighed, knowing you weren’t going to get anywhere else with him for the night and slipped into the bath. The hot water did wonders to your sore muscles. Whatever he put into it only aided in relaxing you to a point where you were quickly dozing off in the bath. Your mind was much more active than your body, replaying all the events that lead up to this moment. From the first hesitant time in that sunroom all the way to the moment he surrendered his body to you, your relationship and your feelings for him had only deepened.

You felt a wave of guilt wash over you as you mulled over the discussion you had with him so long ago, going through the things he was comfortable with doing and what he absolutely refused to do. Somewhere along the line, you had pushed aside his boundaries in pursuit of getting what you wanted out of your agreement. You ended up assuming that he desired you the same way you desired him. Upon this realization, it was no longer a wonder why you were being politely pushed away.

You lost track of how long you had been in the tub. Your disheartening thoughts pulled you down a deep rabbit hole where you analyzed every moment you shared, wondering where you had gone wrong and when you had become so inconsiderate. Your mind ran in circles while your body slowly shut down from exhaustion.

Simeon thought you died in the tub when he found you. Your torso was practically hanging out the side of the tub and you didn’t respond when he called your name the first time. To say he was relieved when he saw you twitch slightly after he called you again would have been an understatement. He sighed softly, setting the robe he brought in to the side and gently propped you up. “Come now, Little Lamb. You’ll catch a cold if you sleep like that.” He chided.

You blinked, clearing your bleary vision and grumbled at him, brushing his hands away. “Just a few more minutes.” You whined.

“The water is no longer warm, you’ll get sick if you stay in here any longer.” He was insistent, half dragging you out of the tepid water much to your dismay.

Simeon wrapped you in the largest towel he had, smiling softly the whole time you were turned away from him. The fluffy bath sheet smelled of lavender and something else you couldn’t quite place, but it was a familiar scent. You clearly did not seem to be in any state to properly care for yourself and he took it upon himself to properly dry you off. It wasn’t often he got to dote on you in the way he wished, and it seemed the only time he would get the chance was when you were barely conscious after being fucked out of your mind.

Seeing you barely able to stay on your feet, Simeon almost carried you back to bed. Stay distant. Do not meddle any further. Though he knew he was likely too far gone to return to the Celestial realm with any sort of good grace, he childishly thought it might not be too late to rectify his wrongs.

He took you by your hand, lead you back to bed and tucked you in. It took no time at all for you to fall asleep on the newly changed sheets. You hogged a majority of his pillows and the blankets, but he didn’t mind. Only when he was sure you were soundly asleep did he allow himself the chance to shower off the worst of the fluids which had caked themselves onto his skin. As he watched the water swirl down the drain, he wonder if he really stood a chance against Lucifer’s wiles and seduction. He couldn’t get the image of you being taken by another man out of his head no matter how hard he distracted from himself.

That dull, burning feeling spread across his chest once again. The ache of yearning for something he could never have consumed his being. And as the conflicting emotions warred within him, he sank into the corner of the shower, letting the water pelt at him until it ran cold. Even then, he didn’t feel like he he had the energy to drag himself out of the shower. The moment he left, he knew that he would need to decide between his devotion to you or to the…

Gods were known to be all benevolent. He had experienced and executed the outcome of such goodness to many before. He thought, perhaps the gods would remember his good deeds and forgive his few misgivings in the human realm. After he finally pulled himself off the chilled floor of the shower and got dressed, he reached for the rosary tucked in the back corner of his night stand and knelt in reverence to the Heavenly bodies above.

For the first time in a very long time, Simeon prayed before going to sleep. He pleaded for forgiveness and mercy. He prayed for a sign to save him from his inevitable fate somehow. Kneeling on the hard floor, he hoped his words could invoke the infinite benevolence of the Celestial realm to save his soul. He recited prayer after prayer, hoping that those above could excuse his lapses of judgment in his assignment to observe and understand humans. He was wrong, he had known that since the first time asked for your help. He had been so naive and confident, he had somehow lost his way.

Simeon had been so sure he could have anticipated the moment of his fall. He could have sworn all he had to do was abstain from defiling you. In his prayers, he apologized for being so simple minded, he confessed to the countless sins he committed onto your body without having tainted you. He had foolishly trusted himself too much and ended up falling for you in a way that was equally taboo.

Love.

He omitted his feelings from his prayers. If the other angels were watching, surely they would already know the truth behind his actions. It was all rooted in an intoxicating addiction to the temptation that was you. Outside of all the lewd acts, he adored you, cherished you and deeply wished he could give you the world on a platter if only he was allowed the chance to.

Yet his pride stood in the way. His stubborn need to cling onto what the Celestial realm deemed as divine kept him from sacrificing everything. Simeon hoped that his prayers would be heard as he implored the powers that be for forgiveness. If he received an answer, he could turn back. There was still time. His knees ached as he recited prayer after prayer. He hummed hymns and sang praises in a futile attempt to curry favor in his direction once more. He stayed in the corner of his room until the pain of kneeling became too much.

Ha, I must be getting old. I used to be able to do this all day...

He shouldn’t have been surprised when there was no reply from the heavens. It seemed that he was already beyond salvation in their eyes.

If he had been a stronger man, he would have practiced decorum and slept in a separate room, or at least on the floor that night. However, Simeon was weak; weaker than he had ever thought he could be. His muscles and joints felt like they creaked when he finally got up and made his way to bed.

He was careful not to rouse you when he crawled feebly under the sheets and laid next to you. He could hear your deep breathing and the light snore coming from you as you slept soundly. Curling his body behind your own and wrapping his arms around you felt so right. Whatever resolve he had for keeping human temptations at bay dissolved as soon as you were in his arms and his own breathing evened out. The gods above had forsaken him, there was nothing left but to embrace the beautiful dreams that came whenever he was with you.

He would see you off in the morning, tell you how much he appreciated you and how much fun he had the night before. In a rare show of affection, he kissed your cheek and hugged you tightly before you set off for the day. He kept everything cordial and guarded his feelings close to his chest while you were still around him. As soon as you said your farewells and walked through his door, he felt his whole world fade into a grainy shade of gray. With every step you took, the color evaporated from his vision until there was nothing left but a dull monochrome.

Alas, it seemed the most disgraceful thing to the gods was the feeling of…

Falling in love with Simeon was not something you expected when you first met him. Your intial impression when you first met him was that he did not fit your mental image of an author. You had expected someone much mousier and less refined. That first meeting changed your life. Not only did it begin your career, but it also planted a seed of affection deep in your heart for a soft spoken, eloquent, beautiful person. Pushing your feelings to the side had been easy enough in the beginning, you could pretend your infatuation was because of how star struck you were to work for the Christopher Peugeot.

Of course, you were young and naive to have thought those emotions would go away with time. Those budding feelings only took root and spread into what they were today. You were obsessed and hopelessly in love with a man who would never open up to you.

In the following days after you left, Simeon continued to distance himself. You didn’t blame him. You had a fair amount of thinking to do on your own. Life carried on as normal, or as normally as it could when there wasn’t a book being written. Simeon had requested a well deserved break from writing in order to brainstorm his next bestseller. There was the obligatory call that you had to make at the beginning of his break to ensure he would have something to present once his little vacation was over; but outside of that, you left him alone. It was likely for the best. Your one way infatuation with him had become an unhealthy obsession as of late and the distance would allow for you to properly sort your thoughts out.

You picked through a few freelance offers to edit short stories during the lull in your main work. It was boring and tedious, but it kept food on the table and your bills were paid on time. The shorter length and the sporadic nature of such work meant you had much more time to dwell on your thoughts. Without any outside influences like a nosy bartender or an overly familiar CEO, it was easier to sort out your feelings for Simeon and figure out how you wanted to proceed the next time you had a chance to meet him privately.

The fact that he still most likely had that chastity cage on his cock was not lost to you. Every time you thought about it, a pang of guilt ripped through your chest. You had done a fair number of things to push his boundaries and you couldn’t blame him if he hated you. There was a hollowness in his voice when he saw you off that rang in your head. You always thought his eyes had a bright life and joy to them, but if you thought too much about that day, you could recall how dull and dark they were even when he smiled.

You hated to think that you could be the reason why he was like that.

You wanted to contact him and maybe discuss things between the two of you, preferably without Lucifer. Your feelings and infatuation was with Simeon and no one else. After days of contemplating the events of your last session, you came to the conclusion that whether or not Simeon would fuck you was a negligible aspect of your relationship with him. You needed to stop pushing him and let him come to you when he was ready. Sure, it was frustrating when he didn’t express his needs, but you never considered that maybe, just maybe, he wasn’t comfortable enough around you to do so.

He trusted his body to you. Upon reflection, it felt like you had taken everything he gave you for granted. The importance of his actions and words were all disregarded in favor of what you wanted. The guilt of such neglect ate at you from the inside. Now, the least you could do in repentance was respect his wishes and his need for space. You had expected him to reach out to you once his break started, but it had been a dead radio silence ever since he announced it. You worried about his well being constantly, checking your phone as soon as you woke and right before you went to bed for any messages. You caught yourself mindlessly refreshing your phone for hours on end, hoping that he would be the first to contact you.

Nothing.

Then again, you shouldn’t have been surprised when there was no reply to your wordless prayers.

The pain of distance you experienced now was a necessity. You needed to accept that and practice patience if you wanted to have another chance to make things right. The heartache from being so far apart for so long ate away at your soul, but you knew it was something that you deserved it. Day by day, as you continued to wait patiently, the color in your world drained away into a grainy shade of…

Grey skies were common at the end of winter. They fit well with his outlook on life these days. Simeon walked a lot, now. He let his feet wander and take him to no goal in particular. It was an odd sort of meditation in a way and it let him clear his mind in a way that his home could no longer do. Every surface and corner of his abode reminded him of you. Getting out and breathing in the crisp, cold air cleansed his mind and his lungs.

He’d wander until he couldn’t feel his legs or his nose. At first, the cold winds whipped and cut his skin, making his lips crack and bleed if he spent too much time out. However, he got used to it quickly. The mixture of pain and peace brought him a calm that couldn’t be achieved elsewhere. He loved the soft quiet that came with snow. It muffled the sounds of the city as well as the sounds of his heart beating. The peaceful atmosphere soothed the frazzled edges of his mind and amplified the hollow feeling of loneliness in his chest.

Simeon didn’t take a heavy coat with him whenever he went out. A sweater was sufficient for his needs. He may or may not have received odd stares, but he couldn’t be bothered. None of those people mattered to him anyway. He only sought the approval of two beings and one of them had turned their back on him when he begged for a bit of forgiveness.

Winter was letting up slowly, giving way to chilly rains which soaked him to the bone whenever he took one of his long walks. He usually didn’t mind it, but when the rain became a downpour, he had no choice but to seek shelter somewhere until the worst of the storm was over. Looking at his surroundings, he could have laughed when he saw his feet had somehow taken him all the way to your neighborhood.

He had maybe visited you a handful of times since he first met you. It wasn’t often he got a chance to go see you considering your work revolved around him. He wanted to see you, he wanted to hear your voice and hold you. That desire was enough to make him take a step towards your door. As he got closer, he could hear a part of him tell him to turn away before he fell any deeper for you.

Unfortunately for that rational part of him, falling didn’t scare him anymore. With the Celestial Realm averting its gaze from him, he was free to accept the darkness that he willingly cultivated within himself. If anything, it meant he was allowed to feel something besides emptiness. He didn’t deserve the chance to see you again, but it did nothing to stop the desires

Simeon was knocking on your door before he realized what he was doing. His body seemed to move on its own when it knew you were close. You drew him towards you like a moth to a flame and he would be forever entranced by you. As your door opened, a gust of warm air washed over his body and the gray world around him shattered into a thousand brightly colored pieces. “I… I’m sorry, I just didn’t know where else to go.”

His voice sounded foreign to him, the most familiar thing he knew was your soft expression as you lead him indoors away from the cold.

“You’re lucky I was in the middle of getting a bath ready.” you said as you hurriedly shuffled his soaked frame to the bathroom once his shoes were off. An inviting tub full of steaming hot water was waiting for him when you finally got him through the door of your bath room. He took a deep breath and the scent of sandalwood and oranges filled his lungs. He recognized it as the scent that always lingered on your clothes over your perfume. Just having his senses filled with something that reminded him of you warmed him much more than the balmy temperature of the bathroom.

“I think I have something that might fit you, if not I definitely have a robe.” you mumbled to yourself, already pulling out a spare towel out of a nearby cabinet for him. “Just leave the wet clothes on the floor, I’ll throw them in the wash for you when you’re done.”

You scurried off to dig through your closet in search for spare clothes, leaving him to him to his own devices. Simeon sighed, smiling for the first time in what felt like weeks. Finally seeing you in person, he needed to accept just how much he missed you and just how whenever you were around, his world was…

Colorful clothes of all sorts were strewn across your bedroom floor as you tried to find that over-sized sweater you swore you saw just the other day. You didn’t want Simeon to wear just a robe, the one you owned was likely too small for him, but it looked like you wouldn’t have a choice in that matter considering you didn’t think anything else you owned would fit him.

He had appeared at your door like the answer to your prayers. You were getting antsy from the dead air between the two of you and it had been shaping up to be another day of listlessly staring at your phone while you waited for a message. With the storm brewing outside, you had fancied a nice long bath to combat both the cold and the dreary weather. Just as you were ready to hop in, you heard the knocking at your door.

Seeing Simeon so drenched and pitiful broke your heart. It didn’t matter why, or how he had arrived at your abode, you immediately dragged him to the bath as soon as you could. He clearly needed it more than you. It also meant he deserved much better than a too small robe to wrap himself in after he was done soaking. Unfortunately, it seemed like there would be no other options considering you couldn’t find that damn sweater you were thinking about.

Tiptoeing back to the bathroom, you knocked softly before cracking the door open. “Hey, I found a robe, it… just might not fit you, sorry about that.” you apologized, feeling like a terrible host. You stuck your hand through the crack and laid the robe on the sink, ready to slink away and let him have his space. Even if you wanted to be near him, you needed to remind yourself that he would approach you when he was ready, you couldn’t rush or push him more than you already had.

You grew concerned though when he didn’t respond to your intrusion. Curiosity got the better of you and you pushed the door open a bit more to see if he was alright. The sight you were greeted with was not what you expected, to say the least.

Simeon sat in the tub, staring blankly at the tiles in front of him. He looked like he was in a daze, barely aware of his surroundings. Most concerning of all was the fact that he hadn’t even bothered to take his clothes off. He was still wearing the rain drenched sweater and faded jeans he arrived in.

“Simeon?” You called out to him, quietly padding closer to make sure he hadn’t fallen asleep. He turned sluggishly and gave you the barest nod. The bright blues of his eyes was so dull and dark, you worried he had somehow gotten sick in the short time you had left him on his own.

Kneeling down next to the tub, you peeled off the sodden sweater off his torso, tossing the thing into the sink before looking down at his jeans. He didn’t say anything to you as you went through the clinical actions of stripping him for the sake of his comfort. Your hand brushed against the metal bindings around his cock and he let out a hiss, the first indication that he was really aware of what was going on around him.

“Simeon, are you--”

“I’m fine.” he cut in. “I’m fine.”

There was no conviction in his voice as he tried to reassure you. He repeated those words over and over again as if they were a mantra, mumbling them under his breath. “I’m fine...”

His voice cracked when he looked at you, unshed tears being barely held back. No matter how much he told himself that the Heavens didn’t care and all he had to do was just accept the fall, he couldn’t shake off the fear of the consequences. There you were, inches away from him, calling for him as if you could hear his desperate prayers for salvation.

If the Heavenly Father would no longer listen, he at least had you. With you, any consequence was bearable.

“I’m fine. As long as I’m with you...” He whispered, pulling you closer to him for a slow, tender kiss.

When his lips met yours, a warmth blossomed throughout him. The hollow ache in his chest was immediately filled with a pleasant fluttering that spread through his limbs. Your unique aroma overpowered the perfume of sandalwood and oranges in the water. The cloying combination made him dizzy and drunk with his affection for you. The smell would forever be connected to the last temptation that made an angel fall.

His cradled the back of your head as he kissed you like it was the first time. The taste of your lips was sweeter than the ripened celestial peaches that immortals coveted so much. He breathed out slowly through his nose before taking a deep breath, filling his lungs with the smell of love and his impending fall from grace.

You moaned softly against his lips, gasping for breath from how tender yet passionate it had all been. He took that moment to swipe his tongue across your lower lip before delving into the caverns of your mouth and deepening the kiss even further. The sounds Lucifer elicited from you would be nothing compared to the songs he would get you to sing under his touch.

When he finally broke the kiss on his own terms, your lips were swollen and glistened with his saliva. The light in his eyes had returned and you noticed the familiar hard glitter of desire in them. He pulled you into a tight embrace, half dragging you into the tub with him to kiss the rest of your face and whatever skin he could get access to. You squealed in surprise, stumbling to keep your balance and pressed yourself against him. His breath was hot against your ear as he continued to press his lips everywhere he could. “I… I want you… Will you have me?”

You could barely believe what you heard. You wanted to pull away and look at him properly, but his embrace was strong and held firm. The kisses he laid on your skin traveled down your neck and you held back a shudder when he brushed across a sensitive spot. “I… is this what you want?”

“More than anything.”

He let you have a bit of distance so you could look at sincerity in his expression. There wasn’t a hint of hesitation in his voice and the glitter of desire in his eyes had changed into a bright flame of lust. There was no way you could deny such a request. You had been waiting for him to say those words for so long. The weight of guilt on your chest crumbled away and there was nothing but elation left. All the anxiety, all the waiting, all of the trials and tribulations was so worth it for the moment he earnestly asked to be with you.

“Then you shall have me.”

The smile that spread across his lips was surely divine. No one should be allowed to be as beautiful as he was. Simeon could barely believe you had agreed. He knew he didn’t deserve you; but now, he had all the time in the world to persuade you otherwise. Heavens be damned, he loved you and he had the freedom to show you exactly what that meant to him.

Removing your partially wet clothes felt like unwrapping the best present in the world. He felt like he was truly seeing you for the first time. He memorized every detail of your body with his lips, followed by his fingers. Your soft, breathy moans would be emblazoned in his mind for the rest of his life as the most holy of hymns.

He was loathed to be separated from you for any amount of time; but your knees were beginning to ache from kneeling, your position was less than ideal, and the tub was much too small to fit both of you. Begrudgingly, he let you go, only to usher you to your room with a gently wave of his hand.

“Just a moment, Little Lamb. I will follow shortly.” He reassured, his voice syrupy and low. The promises that it held sent a shiver down your spine. You hurried to the room as he directed, eagerly divesting the rest of your clothes as soon as you got the chance to.

He arrived in your room shortly after as he promised. The robe you had given had been unnecessary as he opted to have a towel loosely wrapped around his waist. Even then, that was about to be a frivolous exercise in modesty as he tossed it to the side the moment he saw that you were also nude. In the dim light of your room, the metal cage he so obediently wore glimmered and the familiar feeling of guilt rushed through you.

You beckoned him over to you and you swore he purposefully put a little extra sway in his hips as he approached you. The bed dipped with his added weight and you immediately pulled him into another round of slow, sensual kisses. Now that there were no clothes in the way, you were free to explore his body just as much as he did to you.

It felt like a dream to share your bed with Simeon. You had only fantasized about the possibility of something like this happening. The moment was made more magical knowing he sought you out. He had been with you enough times to know exactly where to touch you in order to draw a moan from the back of your throat. However, there was a sort of intimacy this time around that couldn’t be denied. “Wait… Wait...” you breathlessly put a pause on everything to rummage through the drawer of your night stand.

Pulling out the tiny key to the lock on the cage, you were quick to undo the damned thing and toss it to the side. It had seemed like a great idea at first when Lucifer subtly suggested it, however it had brought nothing but anguish and guilt in the end for you. You were glad to be rid of it, the accursed thing clattered to the ground as you carelessly tossed it to the side before refocusing on the man before you. “I’ve wanted to do that for so long now...”

“And I’ve wanted you for so long.” He replied smoothly, pushing you down onto covers and resuming his ministrations. Having his cock freed from those dreaded confines meant he was free to take you as he wished. His resolve wouldn’t waver, not when he was already forsaken and he was staring love in the face. He felt like he was being reborn every with every second that passed.

Simeon’s knee pressed between your legs and you eagerly spread yourself wider for him. He contemplated for a brief moment the idea of burying his head between your legs and tasting you until you were a shivering mess from his tongue. However, the need to sate himself and lay his claim in you overrode his desire to tease you.

His hands smoothed down your thighs before he hooked your legs around his waist. “I want you. I want you. I want you so much.” He leaned forward to kiss your neck, your chest, your collarbones, your shoulders, everywhere he could get access to before his patience snapped and he finally, blissfully pressed the tip of his cock to your entrance.

Simeon took his time, watching your expression change as every inch of him sank into you. He let out a long, guttural groan when he finally, blissfully, bottomed out inside of you. You were his sun, his moon, his stars. You were all that was good and was divine to him. He would happily desert the kingdom of gods to make you his paradise. Without you, he wouldn’t have fallen. Without you, he had no reason to live.

“Oh God, Simeon.” You whined, your eyelids fluttered as he filled you. You knew he would have taken his time, but you didn’t expect him to slide in so excruciatingly slowly. He made your body feel every ridge and vein of his cock, forcing it to memorize his shape and size, molding your cunt to fit him and only him forevermore.

“There is no God, there’s just me.” He seethed at the mention of the Heavenly Father. “There’s just me and you, and what I’m going to make you feel.”

Simeon was everything you had imagined he would be and more. He was so attentive, sweet and he knew just how to make you moan. His cock hit every spot within you that made you see stars. Though the pace he started off was languid and slow, he was quick to pick up speed when he saw just how positively you reacted to deeper and harder thrusts. It seemed like he effortlessly had you clutching onto the sheets below you and crying out for him.

“Mine.” He growled, slamming his hips into you. “Mine.”

He wouldn’t let anyone else interfere. He had made his decision and he would make sure that you could never desire anyone else ever again. His kisses turned into bites, leaving intents and marks across your body as he laid his claim. He gave everything to be with you and the feeling of being so intimately connected with you was divine.

The way you moaned his name as he railed you was unlike any other. It was his name that fell from your lips. Not some other man, not some unintelligible babbling. You were calling for him every time his cock slid home and filled you to the brim.

His desire to see you dripping with his seed only increased every time you begged him to go harder. Simeon was more than happy to comply with your wishes, letting the sound of skin slapping against skin echo in your room. The smell of sandalwood and oranges was soon overtaken by the scent of sex as you met every one of his thrusts with a roll of your hips.

Sweat plastered his hair to his face, his breath came out in heavy pants and he could feel how close you were to your climax every time you clenched around his length. “Ah, Little Lamb, will you cum for me, soon?” He asked sweetly against your ear.

“Yes, soon.” You confirmed, wrapping your legs around him tightly, urging him to keep going. Finally being filled with him was an absolutely transcendent experience that you wanted to last forever. You were afraid that the moment it was over, he would once again return to holding you politely at arms distance. It all felt like a dream to you and you didn’t want to wake up. “Fuck, Simeon! Ahhh~”

It seemed as though your body had other ideas. With how Simeon rubbed against your inner walls, you couldn’t last for the eternity you wished for. You screamed his name as your climax overtook you, the edges of your vision going white from the intensity of it. Frantically, you pulled him towards you for heated kisses as you rode out the high of your orgasm. Your walls fluttered around his cock, milking him encouraging him to follow you into bliss.

He wasn’t far behind you. The way you pussy hugged him and pulled him even deeper into you was all the encouragement he needed to finish the deed. His pace stuttered and he rammed himself home, once, twice, thrice before holding your hips still as he spilled his load into you.

Outside, the rain storm had turned to snow. A quick, bleary glance over at your window and you could have sworn the big, fluffy flakes looked like thousands of white feathers falling from the skies. Simeon groaned in content and exhaustion, feeling the last vestiges of what divinity he had leave him only to be replaced with an all consuming devotion to you.

He collapsed gracelessly on top of you, unwilling to depart from the warm confines of your pussy as he reveled in the feeling of his fall. You caught him him, cradling him against your chest and waited patiently for him to ride out his own high. “I love you.” he murmured softly, getting up just enough to kiss your forehead softly.

“I’ve wanted to hear you say that for so long.” You admitted, your cheeks warming at the affectionate gesture. “I love you, too.”

“Say it again.” he demanded, kissing your forehead again. “Say it again and again and again. Never stop saying it.”

“I love you.” You reiterated, giggling and rolling over so you were laying on his chest. “I love you, I love you.”

“And I love you, my Angel.”

The descent to Hell was a long one, but as long as you caught him when he Fell, it was worth it.

#Swd Simeon #Shall we Date Simeon #Obey Me Simeon #Simeon x Reader #Obey Me smut #i'm trash you're trash we're all trash #This is it #thank you for reading and all that good sappy stuff

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rmtndew · 4 years

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All I’ve Ever Known ~ Chapter 4

Summary: Fiona’s life is a shattered fraction of what it used to be. She’s trying to navigate her new normal when she meets Detective Marshall, who gives her something more to look forward to.

Pairing: Marshall and OFC.

Rating: PG

Warnings: Mentions of death, cancer.

A/N - This was intended as a short drabble but it got out of hand and became a multi-chapter story instead. It’s my first Marshall fic and the first fan fic that I’ve written in over a decade. The title comes from the song ‘All I’ve Ever Known’ from Hadestown: ‘I was alone so long, I didn’t even know that I was lonely. Out in the cold so long, I didn’t even know that I was cold. Turned my collar to the wind, this is how it’s always been. All I’ve ever known is how to hold my own, but now I want to hold you, too.’

Tag list - @hollydaisy23, @readings-of-a-cavill-lover, @onlyhenrys, @omgkatinka, @speakerforthedead0-blog, @gearhead66, @thethirstyarchive, @oddsnendsfanfics, @littlerinoa, @agniavateira, @aaescritora,

If you’d like to be added to the tag list, let me know!

Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3, Chapter 4, Chapter 5

I woke the next morning ten minutes before my alarm went off. At first I couldn’t figure out why and tried burrowing back into my warm bed to get my last few minutes of sleep back, but then my phone alerted me to a new text and I realized that’s what had woken me up. I sighed. I knew it was Darcy. Sometimes she woke up early with big ideas for her store and texted them to me, asking my opinion. She met me when I was working in interior design and any time she entertained the idea of having a dine in section, she’d send me pictures of what she wanted and ask how feasible it would be. Most of the time they were way too grand to fit into her pre-existing building. Other times she’d talk about a small coffee shop to encourage more people to come in and pick up their own orders and cut back on our deliveries. But I couldn’t see how renovating a portion of the store, buying new equipment and hiring extra employees to run a coffee shop would lower costs just by maybe cutting back on some deliveries.

I was planning on ignoring the text until after I’d actually gotten up, but when another came through I knew it was best to just go ahead and nip it in the bud before she sent me an entire magazine’s worth of photos. But when I hit the home button on my phone I saw that the texts hadn’t come from Darcy. I had to squint against the brightness of the screen to make sure I saw the name right. Marshall.

I sat up and turned on my lamp, then looked at my phone again, reading the texts from their previews.

Hey, it’s Marshall. I had a great time yesterday. Sorry I was falling asleep on you. Can I make it up to you this weekend?

Sorry. You’re probably sleeping. It might take more than coffee to make it up to you now. Dinner?

I suddenly felt wide awake and was no longer irritated by my few minutes of missed sleep. I would have gladly given up several hours for those texts. I decided not to reply to them right then, though. I wanted to make sure I’d had enough coffee to formulate a comprehensible reply and not look like I was drunk texting him, which I had a history of. My conversations with Darcy at five in the morning were proof of that.

I got up and went about my morning routine like usual, trying not to wake Mom. When I made my way downstairs, I poured a cup of coffee and sat at the table. I sipped it, thinking about what to say to Marshall. I wrote and rewrote the text half a dozen times before finally having something I felt okay with, then I sent it.

Hey Marshall. I had a great time, too. You don’t have to make up for anything but I’d still like to have dinner with you. What day did you have in mind?

My heart was thudding from nerves and excitement. I was so focused on trying to calm myself down that I almost didn’t hear Mom when she walked in.

“Morning, sweetie,” she said, grabbing a coffee cup.

“Good morning,” I replied, then jumped slightly as my phone vibrated on the table. I tried not to look too enthusiastic as I grabbed it.

Does Saturday work for you?

“Darcy again?” Mom asked, pouring coffee for herself.

“Um...no, actually.” I tried biting back a smile but it didn’t work. “It’s Marshall.”

Her eyes went wide and she smiled back. “He’s writing to you at six in the morning?”

“He actually wrote me earlier. He asked if I wanted to have dinner with him Saturday.”

She sat down at the table beside me. “What did you tell him?”

“I haven’t replied yet. I don’t want him to think I’m just waiting by the phone for him.”

She looked at the phone in my hand. “Isn’t that exactly what you’re doing, though?”

“Yes, but he doesn’t have to know it.”

She laughed then blew on her coffee. “I’m glad this whole texting business wasn’t around when I was dating your father.”

“Even if it was, you’re a lot more forward than I am. You wouldn’t have had a single issue with texting Dad first, or answering him right away,” I said. My phone made another sound, reminding me of my unread text and I finally opened it, then replied.

Saturday is perfect. What time would you like to meet?

“Well, there was only room enough for one coy person in our relationship and Rodger called that role,” Mom said after I put my phone down.

I laughed. “I don’t think ‘coy’ was the right word for Dad. I think socially awkward was more appropriate.”

“He was too smart to be a social butterfly, too. He had to have a couple of flaws.”

“He couldn’t set the timer for the coffee pot, no matter how many times I showed him, and he thought that the Sharknado movies were amazing. He had his flaws,” I joked.

“This coffee pot is confusing.”

“He was an engineer!”

My phone buzzed in my hand and that time I didn’t wait to open the text. I read it right away.

Would you let me pick you up instead? Around six?

“Well, what does he say?” Mom asked.

“He wants to pick me up instead of me meeting him.”

“Are you going to let him?”

I looked at her and she was smiling at me. I shook my head at her, laughing again. “You want him to come here so that you can see him, don’t you?”

She shrugged. “You keep talking about how handsome he is.”

“He is handsome. And it’s an awfully gentlemanly thing to do…” I bit my lip for a moment, pretending to think it over.

“Just tell him yes. We both know you’re going to.”

I gave another laugh. “Fine.”

I would like that, thank you. And I’m curious, what does Detective Marshall eat when he’s not eating a cuban sandwich and plain chips?

I put my phone on the table. “What are your plans for today?” I asked, then took a sip of my coffee.

She gave me a cheeky grin. “Changing the subject.”

I rolled my eyes. “I’m not changing the subject. I’m asking what my mother is going to be doing while I’m out earning the bread for this family,” I joked.

She snorted. “You don’t earn the bread, Fi, you just bake it.” She nodded at my arm. “And burn yourself in the process.”

“That’s the first time I’ve burnt myself in a year and a half. I’d say that’s a pretty good record.”

“That’s true,” she said. “And if you must know, I was thinking of going down to Valley and talking to Georgia about starting music lessons again after the new year. I think by then I’ll have recovered enough to be able to teach at least a few days a week.”

“You’re going to put yourself around snot nosed kids in the dead of flu season?” I asked dryly.

“I’ll be teaching teenagers, not little kids, and I’ll wear a mask,” she said. “I’ll make sure to clean everything between students and have them use hand sanitizer when they come in. I’m not going to be immunocompromised forever, and I’m not going to live in a bubble until then, either.” She gave me a smirk. “Besides, I can’t let you be the only one that earns the bread around here.”

I laughed at her but it was cut short when my phone buzzed again.

Stuff that’s probably not very good for him. Like Italian. How does that sound?

Just when I thought I couldn’t be any more attracted to him, he confessed to liking my favorite type of food. I couldn’t stop my train of thought that went to me one day making an Italian dinner for him as a date. But my mind’s eye set up the imaginary dinner in my old apartment and I knew that would never happen. I let that thought go and took a deep breath, trying to focus my attention on the present moment.

That sounds great. I love Italian food.

I sent it and sat back in my seat. I tried not to let my mind wander too far down the road with Marshall. I’d been on a lot of first dates in my life with guys that I’d thought were great who turned out to be jerks and I knew what that disappointment felt like. And even though I couldn’t imagine Marshall disappointing me in the same way they had - he’d proven at our coffee date that he was far more respectful, even while he was tired - I wanted to remind myself that I needed to take things one step at a time.

Perfect. I’ll see you Saturday at six, then.

I must have looked pretty gooey eyed over the whole thing because Mom reached out and touched my wrist gently. When I looked at her, the teasing tone was gone from her face and she was smiling at me. “I’m happy for you, sweetie. I really am.”

I was a ball of nerves all Saturday morning and afternoon. More than I’d ever been on the day of a first date. But nothing with Marshall fell into my ‘usual’ category. There was something about him that made him different from any other man I’d gone out with. And maybe that was it: He was a man. Not some boy masquerading as one. He was quiet, and fierce, and protective. He thought before he spoke. And even when delivering a threat - like he had to that creep in the bar - he’d done it calmly and with authority. He exuded confidence, not cockiness, and there was honestly nothing more attractive than that.

I was nearly ready, just zipping up my boots, when I heard a crash downstairs. I rushed down and found Mom in the kitchen, trying to pick up the broken pieces of one of her giant coffee mugs.

“I’m - I’m not sure what happened,” she said. “I just lost my grip.”

“It’s okay.” I took a step towards her, trying to avoid the pile of porcelain. “Let me clean it up.”

“I can do it,” she said, sounding flustered.

“I know you can but you’re in socks and I’m wearing boots.”

She stood her ground for a moment, then finally sighed and relented, taking a step back. “Okay. I’ll get you the broom.”

“It’s fine. I’ll get it. Just watch your step.”

I went to grab the broom as she threw away the large chunks of her broken cup that she’d been able to pick up with her hands. I could tell she was frustrated.

“You know, if you didn’t like that mug, you could have just gotten rid of it, you didn’t have to break it,” I joked, taking the broom and dustpan from the broom closet. “Or were you afraid I wouldn’t take the hint and buy you another one if I thought it just went missing?”

She gave a small laugh but I could tell she was still embarrassed. “I actually liked that coffee mug a lot.”

“I’ll get you a new one.”

“You don’t have to do that. I can -”

The doorbell rang and she stopped mid-sentence. We both froze, my eyes flicking to the clock on the stove. It was 5:53. Marshall was early. After a moment, Mom took a step towards me, holding out her hand to take the broom from me. I shook my head.

“You’re wearing socks,” I reminded her. “I don’t want you to cut your foot.”

Her eyes grew wide. “So you’re going to clean up after me while I go meet your date?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

She brushed her hand over her barely there hair, trying to collect herself, then let out a breath. “Okay, I’ll go let him in.”

“Don’t be too charming. He might have a thing for cougars and I don’t want to have to fight my mom for a guy.”

She smiled for real, the embarrassment of having her daughter clean up after her letting go enough that it was no longer plainly visible. “No promises,” she joked, then left the kitchen to answer the door.

It didn’t take long to clean up. Even though the cup had shattered pretty good, its bright white color stood out against the dark wood of the floor, making even the tiniest pieces easy to see. After making sure I’d cleaned it all up, I threw away the pieces and put up the broom and dustpan, then went to find Mom and Marshall.

They were standing in the entryway. Mom was saying something about teaching at Valley and Marshall stood in front of her, his hands clasped behind his back, and a look of sincere focus on his face as she spoke. Mom was a small woman but next to him, she looked comically tiny.

I paused for a moment, taking him in. His hair looked a bit more controlled than any other time I’d seen him, his curls tighter and not quite as messy. His beard looked like it had been trimmed, giving it a purposeful look instead of the ‘I’m too busy to shave’ vibe that I’d gotten from him previously. He wore a thick blue sweater that made the color of his eyes pop when they drifted over to me. It was brief, maybe less than a second, before concentrating on Mom again. But he had a slight smile and it was enough for her to notice. She turned and looked at me.

“There she is. I guess I’ll stop talking your ear off and let you two go,” she said.

Marshall smiled at her, then at me, bigger that time. “I didn’t realize I was early. I apologize.”

“No, don’t. You’re fine,” I said, moving to grab my coat. “I’m ready, I was just cleaning up a broken cup. I’m basically like Cinderella around here.”

Mom snorted. “Hardly. Cinderella was made to do chores. You’re the one who won’t let me lift a finger,” she said. “Besides, I think she sang while she worked.”

I raised my eyebrow at her as I put my coat on. “Do you want me to sing?”

She shook her head. “No. No one wants that, sweetie,” she said, making Marshall laugh. She looked at him. “Fi spent a good portion of her teenage years screaming along to music in her room. I didn’t even know you could make ‘Girls Just Wanna Have Fun’ sound angry until she proved otherwise. Needless to say, her father and I encouraged her other interests a bit more enthusiastically.”

I grabbed my purse. “I should have let you clean up your own mess and answered the door myself,” I joked before kissing the top of her head. “Bye, Mom.”

Marshall smiled again. “It was nice meeting you, Mrs. Sparks.”

“Likewise, Detective Marshall. You two have fun.”

We left the house and after a few steps down the walkway, he jabbed his thumb back at the door. “She’s funny.”

“She can be,” I agreed. “She’s a spitfire, though, that’s for sure.”

“I like it.”

“Yeah, I like it, too.”

We walked to his truck and he opened the door for me. “You look gorgeous, by the way,” he said as I got in.

I felt myself blush instantly, caught off guard by the compliment. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” he said, closing the door for me.

We’d only made it to the driveway and my stomach was already doing somersaults. He made me feel like a teenage girl, all giddy and excited, and I loved it.

He went around the front of the truck, then climbed in the driver’s side. I tried to sneak a look at him while he was putting on his seat belt but he caught me. He smiled as I snapped my head straight ahead.

“Sorry, I just, I was…” I tried to think of an excuse but I couldn’t think of anything that didn’t sound lame. I let out a sigh. “I was checking you out,” I admitted. “I can’t lie. There’s no point. Sorry.”

“That’s the least offensive thing a woman has ever apologized to me for,” he said with a laugh, starting the truck. He leaned forward enough to catch my eye, making me instinctively turn my head towards him. He grinned. “Did you see anything you like?”

My blush deepened and I couldn’t hold back a giggle. “Maybe.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. I mean, that is a nice sweater.”

“Oh, so you were checking out my jumper?”

I shrugged. “It brings out your eyes.”

“Does it now?”

“It does. And you have very lovely eyes.”

“Thank you,” he said. “But my daughter bought the jumper, so I can’t take credit for it.”

“She did a good job,” I said, forcing my eyes to look up front as we pulled out of the driveway. Even though I’d already admitted to checking him out, there was a difference between looking and leering and I didn’t want to come off as creepy. “I take it that this wasn’t your weekend to have her?”

“It was supposed to be but she was invited to a Halloween party with some of her friends so she asked to do that instead. She’ll be with me tomorrow.”

“What did she dress as? For the party.”

“A cowgirl.”

“Does she ride horses or did she just like the costume?”

“No, she rides. She took lessons when she was a bit younger. And she and I go riding some weekends.”

“So you’re Detective Marshall during the week and cowboy Marshall on the weekends? Does that ever cross over? Do they have mounted police in the homicide unit?”

He shook his head as he laughed. “No, not that I’m aware of.”

“That’s a shame.”

“Is it now?” he asked, and his tone made me blush all over again.

“I’m actually not going to answer that. I’m going to wait until we get a little further from my house to fully embarrass myself so that when you fake an emergency to get rid of me, my ego doesn’t get too crushed.”

“Do you really think I’d do that?”

“I hope not, but I’ve been excited about having dinner with you, so I’m going to try not to mess it up.”

“I think you’d have to try pretty hard to mess it up,” he said as we stopped at the end of my street. He glanced at me. “And I’ve been excited about it, too.”

#Henry Cavill #Walter Marshall #Night Hunter #Nomis #All I've Ever Known #Walter Marshall fan fiction #Henry Cavill fan fiction #Night Hunter fan fiction #Walter Marshall/OFC #HenryCavillFanfic #WalterMarshallFanfic

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familylightfox · 3 years

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@chaosworthy asked:

It was probably a good thing that the hero forgot to mention that a certain hawk had some knowledge of the events too. Though he chalked that up to a feral instinct rather than true comprehension. Still it wasn't unusual for Bolt to glue herself to the hero's side right before and long after a lapse, but with how things were the poor bird was exhausted and sleeping back in the headquarters, no doubt near a certain chamber.

All the more reason the hero didn't want to be out longer than he had to. He didn't need her panicking and it wasn't exactly warm outside either, something Harmony was helping with just by being so close. While there was a slight pause, a hesitation, when she voiced her request the hero did relent with a small nod.

"If you're not out kicking butt...then yes," that was his only catch, he wasn't going to be a distraction while she was out doing greater things. Not when Arrow knew he would be just fine in the end. "But I should be alright for a bit. They...don't happen too close together, fortunately."

One more reassurance before the two of them settled in their silence, the hero resting his own head on hers. It wasn't exactly the way he would have liked it to come about, but the time together was appreciated after the last few days. When the air was fraught with a heavy horizon, and if the hero could feel it he knew everyone else could as well. So the attempt at a lighter air? The playful banter? It was welcomed.

Though he did have a few mixed feelings about how tall she was projected to get. Curse his short stature.

"Maybe, but it won't change anything, Squirt. You're still our daughter...and we're going t' love you, no matter how old or how tall you get," while there was a mischievous note to his voice as well, they weren't words to be doubted. Not then, or ever. Not even as he gave her one last, playful, nudge. "Even if I will need a stepstool t' start tussling your bangs."

——————————

There was a small smile at the agreement. As long as she wasn’t busy with a mission, Harmony planned to be there if something like this happened again. She didn’t want her dad to have to deal with it alone if she didn’t have to. It was only until her father could take back over, but they were still working on that.

Afternoon was slowly shifting to evening and with it came the autumn chill that Nee Mobotropolis was known for. The multitude of colored leaves above them shifted in the breeze that blew passed and Harmony scooted just a bit closer to her dad so he could share in some of her natural body heat. Sometimes it paid off the be a walking furnace.

At least in the colder months.

A soft murr rose from her chest as Arrow settled in for the time being, the preteen stretching her legs out in front of her to keep them from cramping while they sat. Far from an awkward or uncomfortable silence, Harmony raised her ears at the sounds of the crickets that were still willing to brave the chilly weather and looked to her dad to see his soft smile.

She snuck in a gentle nuzzle to the tan shoulder she was resting against, giggling at his playful teasing and looked into his eyes with the usual brightness back in her own. “And I love you and daddy too. I always will.”

It was a promise that she never intended to break and while another giggle came at imagining her dad on a step ladder to play with her hair, it was a welcome image. Her eyes went back to look out at the slowly setting sun before continuing. “No matter how old I get, you’re both my parents and I wouldn’t be who I am today without you guys. If daddy never rescued me and he never got t’ meet you, I dunno where I’d be but I wouldn’t be as happy as I am now. You’ve been the best dad I could ever wish for and daddy is the best daddy.”

A pause as she glanced back over to the hero with a wag of her tail. “Both if you are the greatest dads in the multiverse.”

#Ask The Hybrids #Traveling The Multiverse: IC #Mobius Event: Infection #Free As The Wind: chaosworthy #your love has called my name: Arrow&Volt

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radramblog · 3 years

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Album Discussion- The Fall of Troy

Last week I discussed an album that, more or less, was defined by looseness and empty spaces. This might as well be the polar opposite of that.

(man no-one seems to have uploaded this album art in high res)

Released in 2003, The Fall of Troy is a self-titled mathcore/post-hardcore/screamo debut album made by 3 17 year olds- and in some ways that shows, but it’s not like they were fresh, they’d had two EPs under a different name by that point. The Fall of Troy is probably best known by their song F.C.P.R.E.M.I.X., having been featured as a bonus track in Guitar Hero III, which is notably, not on this album. Rather, their second album, Doppelganger, had a few tracks that were basically retakes of songs from this first album. But we’re not talking about Doppelganger (and I still can’t find a bloody CD of it), we’re talking about The Fall of Troy, by The Fall of Troy, so let’s bloody well dive in.

The first song on here, Rockstar Nailbomb!, is as much a statement of intent as anything I’ve ever seen. It’s starts with hoarsely screamed, incomprehensible vocals over a frenetic set of guitar riffs, that cuts back into a more traditional song structure, you know, after a bit. Like any good opener, it’s introducing what you’re going to be getting from the album- songs that, while extremely energetic, tend to cut between sung vocals and screamed ones at a moment’s notice, complex and overlapping guitar riffs, and a very deliberately unpolished sound. The technical skill on display is incredible considering the age of the band, as well. For such a short song, Rockstar Nailbomb! goes in some real places, closing with a line that would be appropriate to finish off the album as a whole- but of course, we’re just getting started.

The next song is called Spartacus, and it shows off the talent of the drummer in a way that the previous didn’t. Unfortunately, I almost feel like this song was kind of a half-formed idea, considering it’s a minute and a quarter long, and the…squeal…? Near the end is kind of offputting. A mid one.

Oh boy it wouldn’t be a nerd band without ridiculous track names- next up is The Circus That Has Brought Us Back to These Nights (Yo Chocola), and no I don’t fucking know what that means. This one ironically feels the most like a song than the others before it, a slightly more traditional structure, the screaming and singing vocals forming something of a call-and-response that would probably make more sense if I could understand the lyrics half the time. Despite this, it’s no less speedy, frantic, and intricate, mixes between melody and dissonance that are basically the band’s signature.

The fourth track is named Mouths Like Sidewinder Missiles, and it’s one of my favourite tracks on the album. I can’t really describe why, though, so I’m going to take a minute to talk about something else. See, this is one of the tracks that was redone for Doppelganger, and on Spotify, for whatever reason, has the title misspelled “Misssiles”. I let them know about this years ago and they never fixed it, so I guess this is my callout post. For what it’s worth, I think the Doppelganger version is a bit looser, adding in some elements in the empty space (there’s a reverb after the initial riff I really love), but both have their own merits.

Okay, mild rant over, back to regular old rambling. The next track is The Last March of the Ents, Lord of the Rings reference very much intended. This is one of those tracks I always forgets exists to be honest, like the intro started and I was like…what was this one again? And then the bit at like 50 seconds came in and I remembered everything. That section is honestly really strong, though unfortunately the rest of the track kinda feels just like Mouths like Sidewinder Missiles, but like, slightly worse? Which is especially awkward considering it immediately proceeds that song. I will say the part of the song where it slows alllll the way down is really enjoyable, it’s very gradual and smooth, gives the bass a bit of time to shine, before blowing back up again because these guys just can’t bear to play slow for half a minute.

The next track is F.C.P.S.I.T.S.G.E.P.G.E.P.G.E.P. This is the song that their most popular track, F.C.P.R.E.M.I.X. is a version of, and they’ve never actually stated what the acronym is for. A common (and I believe discredited) suggestion is, and I quote, “Fuck condoms, premarital sex is the shit, get ‘er pregnant get ‘er pregnant get ‘er pregnant”, which is A Take. It also has nothing to do with the lyrics of the song itself. This track is actually by far the loosest and slowest on the album completely, appropriate considering it’s first words are “slow down”. There’s really not a lot of screaming on it, left only to the chorus, and they’re actually understandable which is nice (or maybe it’s just because I know it’s “come running home”). This is undoubtedly an emo track, based on the lyrics, but it’s also just kind of excellent, similarly complex lyrics slowed down to a comprehensible tempo and a bridge that builds in a supremely satisfying manner. The comparison to R.E.M.I.X. is of course, inevitable, and I will say the tightening up did help in some places- the very slow section at the latter part of the song probably doesn’t need to go that long, and that’s easily the part that gets sped up most in the redo. Still, the song stands out very naturally, feeling more thoughtful and controlled than its peers.

The next song is titled “Whacko Jacko Steals The Elephant Man’s Bones”, apparently a reference to…a music video where Michael Jackson danced next to a recreation of the skeleton of a famously deformed man. Yeah, ok, sure. I don’t actually have much to say about this one, it’s very scream-led, but doesn’t really stand out to me apart from the naming. It’s play rating supports this, being the second least listened track here, but it’s by no means bad. It’s just kinda long and as generic as something like this can be, I suppose. Honestly I kinda forgot all the directions this goes, some of these sections are really quite excellent, but the song is probably like 2 minutes longer than it needed to be. I’m just saying. Like I kept waiting for this song to try and change my mind and it kinda just didn’t.

Reassurance Rests in the Sea is up next, and god that little riff it’s building around, that just noodles around but at triple speed, is just so sick. It’s a song that spends a lot more time cutting itself down- like F.C.P.etc. it’s looser and slower, but substantially more disjointed than that one is. This song, uh, completely breaks off like two minutes in and just stops. And becomes a different song. Like, I don’t think this is a bonus track or anything, it’s just a part of the same song. And that second half is a really sort of chill (for this album) instrumental, lead by a bassline that slowly gets more riffs over the top of it. And then that bit stops itself, and the main song returns again for like the final half a minute or so. And honestly I was just like, wait, no, go back…….

The actual least listened to track on the album is number 9, The Adventures of Allan Gordon (it’s apparently about a book). Honestly, I’d kinda love to hear this live, because the first minute or so of it is the kind of thing you’d play as an interstitial to keep the audience going while you get your shit ready for the next song. Eventually (and I mean eventually, song’s a third through at this point) the lyrics and such come in, and yeah ok I see why this one isn’t as popular. It’s like, fine? Like, that cut back section is pretty overall mediocre, but when we get back to the screaming and the riffs and the noise its as solid as ever. It’s a little frustrating, because they can do the more lyrical stuff, F.C.P. is right there, but this one doesn’t quite make the mark for me. A shame.

Track 10 is I Just Got This Symphony Goin’, which does not have an actual symphony, but it does present and absolutely killer opening riff, so it’s not all bad. This is one of the songs I most associate with the album, even if it’s one of the ones also on Doppelganger. Its speeding up and slowing down and screaming and singing and lots of interweaving and yeah. I like it. Iunno.

The final song, What Sound Does a Mastodon Make? (I dunno, ask a paleontolgist?), is a full seven minutes, 2 minutes longer than the next longest track. It’s kind of interesting, since the second half of the album going by tracks is much much longer than the first half. It does this really fun bit where the lead guitar and rhythm guitar do their own little call and response thing, immediately followed by one of the weirdest vocal noises I’ve ever heard, and I don’t have a word to describe it, so you’re gonna have to either trust me or listen to it yourself. This song is just really, really long, man, and it goes in a lot of places but none of them are exceptional enough to really justify slogging through a total 7 minutes of it. I’m going to be honest, I’m probably not going to listen to it unless I’m going through the whole album. The extended build near the end is pretty sick, I guess? And the way the last minute just decides to, like, drop everything, and just end with a very quiet, indie-esque instrumental. Like the very “we did it, now we can relax” sort of moment. Lets both you and the band know its over, and you can move on past your energy high to something a bit more chill.

I think the best phrase I can use to describe The Fall of Troy is “ADHD music”. Both in that it feels almost a little distractable sometimes, multidirectional and often not fully resolving its lines, and also in that said lines are great if you’re someone like myself who’s brain needs something to be chewing over while the more conscious parts are trying to do something else. To be clear, I consider this a compliment. Like most music I discuss, this certainly isn’t for everyone, as you’re going to need a tolerance for adrenaline and screaming to enjoy this album, but I do think it’s worth the attempt. Now, I haven’t listened to Doppelganger (or any of the other albums for that manner) in full, so I can’t comment on how the style of The Fall of Troy would evolve over time. But at the very least, this is a very solid starting point for what would become a surprisingly long-lasting act.

#ramble #music #mathcore #the fall of troy

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wolftraps · 4 years

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Do you have more Shay in human school stuff?

So, technically this does include stuff with Shay in human school. Mostly though it’s Del&Shay... yeah. Also, as always, this got longer than intended. Uhh, warning for mild homo/transphobia.

Del knows fear. It’s not that there was anything in his life to cause that fear. It’s just that for as long as he can remember, there’s been a sense of wrongness in his life that he couldn’t identify. And without a source for that feeling, something to point to and say “That. That’s what’s wrong. That’s what scares me.” he’d just become afraid of everything.

Fight or flight, people say. That’s how humans respond to fear. Instinct. Even at six, when his dad says that instinct is broken in Del, Del thinks that’s dumb. People react to fear in all kinds of ways, and there are all kinds of fear that they react to differently. It’s not an either or.

We fear things because we don’t understand them, Del’s mum says. Like sharks. Or wolves. We see sharp teeth and we think “danger” because we don’t understand that the creature behind those teeth doesn’t mean us any harm. Fear is a misunderstanding. Del spends a lot of his childhood trying to understand everything, so maybe he can stop being scared. But understanding that the water isn’t trying to hurt you doesn’t make anyone less afraid of drowning.

It’s his cousin, Nel (short for Nelson, but Del always liked that, Del and Nel), eighteen and rebellious, that ends up helping the most. He takes Del out to the cinema and they meet his boyfriend there. Del likes Gavin, but his aunt and uncle don’t- something about “bad influences”- so they can only meet up other places. It’s after the film, as they’re walking out, that a couple guys seem to have an issue with how Nel and his boyfriend are holding hands. They say things Del knows are supposed to be mean, but Nel doesn’t get mad or scared. There’s no fight or flight. He just sighs and asks Gavin in a quiet voice to get the manager.

While he’s gone, Nel says nothing. Not until one starts getting in his face, yelling at him to say something. Then Nel sticks the hand that isn’t holding Del’s in his pocket and leans back almost casually.

“You hungry?” he asks. The guy just… stops.

“What?”

“We were planning to get something to eat. You can join us if you want.”

He doesn’t want, but he and his friends walk away without a fuss when the manager comes.

Later, Del asks in awe how Nel did it. Wasn’t he scared? How was he so brave? Nel laughs, but it isn’t a happy laugh.

“It’s not ‘bout ‘brave,’” he says. “It’s about compliance.” Del doesn’t know what that means. “Fear’s a really messed up sort of power when it’s done on purpose. And it’s just a bad warning sign when it’s not. Lashing out won’t help no one, and running away’s not gonna work forever. So instead you gotta be contrary. Figure out what that fear wants you to do, and then don’t.

“Those dicks wanted me to fight, so they could keep thinking I’m wrong; the enemy. So I offered to be friends. Ma, pops, they’re afraid of Gavin. They’re afraid he’s gonna get me in trouble ‘cause he doesn’t understand that I can’t get away with the same things he can. I can’t buy my way out of my mistakes. They make this a real unfriendly place to be ‘cause they want him to be as scared as they are. But running away won’t help, no matter how much their fear wants him to. We’re still gonna love each other. So instead of running away and breaking my heart, he stays and takes care of me. He learns the world how I see it, so instead of pulling me into fear by accident, he can protect me from it on purpose.

“Look, cuz, there’s a lot in this world to be scared of. You just gotta figure out what’s behind it and get good at arguing. Fear says ‘there’s something hiding in the dark,’ you say ‘then why can’t I hear it?’ It says ‘you’re running out of air,’ you say ‘if light can get in, so can air.’ It says ‘they’re going to attack you,’ you say ‘not if I distract them first.’ It says ‘you can’t do it,’ you say ‘watch me.’

“But most important, and I need you to listen to me here, kay? You listening?” Del nods with all the gravity an eight-year-old can muster. “You remember nothing else, you remember this: Fear tells you ‘you should be ashamed of what you are,’ you say ‘I should only be ashamed of what I do.’ If you not hurting nobody, you got nothing to be ashamed of.”

It doesn’t always work, of course. When Fear says ‘you’re going to get hurt,’ you can’t just say ‘no, I won’t.’ You have to ask ‘will it be worth it?’ But it helps.

So when Del is eleven and a new kid comes to school, Fear yells ‘Danger.’ and Del looks at the distance everyone has put between them and this serious-looking kid with eyes like storm clouds, and at the extra sweets his mum had packed, and he thinks back ‘Yeah, but dangerous to who?’

It’s not always easy being Shay’s friend. It’s pretty hard sometimes actually. And there’s a fear that Del recognizes from his aunt and uncle. He’s afraid that one of these days, he’s going to get in trouble because Shay doesn’t understand that they’re different.

Shay is… Shay is a wildfire. A whirlwind. Shay is something that sweeps you up with a force beyond your comprehension, and if you’re not careful, you’re going to break or burn before it passes.

Del had thought them serious at first, and they are sometimes, but he wouldn’t describe them that way. Passionate, maybe. Restless, definitely. Impulsive, unfortunately. Terrifying, yes. But serious, no. And wrong, never. All Del’s life, something has been wrong, and he fears both what it is and that he’ll never figure it out, but he thinks ‘I’ve lived just fine so far without knowing, and at least it’s not Shay.’

Even when Shay gets stressed over History class and their teacher’s house floods. Even when bullies repeatedly trip and break their noses. Even when Mrs. Patrick sends Shay to the headmaster with mutters about expulsion and a strong wind sends a rock hurtling through her window. When they break up with Lisa and it storms for a week. When Chris calls their parents freaks and the ground shakes. When they’re in one of their moods and a teacher snatches their fidget tool from their hands, only to drop it with a cry of pain as the smell of burnt flesh fills the room. Through it all, Del knows that whatever is wrong in their life, it isn’t Shay.

That doesn’t make it easier when Shay is annoyed and he feels like he stepped on a Lego every time he tries to talk to them about it. Or when they’re excited and the wind near them is so strong it’s hard to breathe. Or when they’re upset and Del has to walk all the way to the Blackwood Institute in 40C heat because a series of accidents have slowed transit. Or when they take up freerunning and they laugh at Del’s worry every time they take a fall that would send anyone else to A&E. Or when Shay realizes how these things affect Del and they get that stricken look and avoid him for a week.

It doesn’t make it easier when Shay acknowledges none of this.

They never lie about it- Shay’s a terrible liar- but they talk around it or laugh it off. And it’s the only time Del ever sees anything like fear in their eyes, so he doesn’t push it.

‘You’re going to get hurt,’ Fear says, time and time again.

With Shay holding his hand as he tells his family he’s gay. With Shay threatening to burn down the stage if he doesn’t get the part. With Shay staying up late to tutor him in math. With Shay offering to unleash their parents on the teacher who calls him stupid. With Shay backstage, very carefully learning how to apply make-up because Del’s hands are shaking too hard from nerves. With Shay laughing and laughing as he cringes over their puns. With Shay always, always stepping in between him and the dark. Del replies, ‘Yeah, but it’s worth it.’

Shay had sworn they’d be there opening night of Del’s first lead performance. They were going out of town for a while, but they’d sworn they’d be back for it. The wrongness has been getting worse and worse, and the only time it seems to get better is when Del’s on stage, but that doesn’t matter if it’s just replaced by the wrongness of Shay not being there. They’re supposed to talk tonight. High on Del’s success, they’re supposed to talk and Shay is supposed to help figure this out and then maybe, hopefully, they’ll talk about their thing too. But they can’t do that if Shay isn’t there.

They aren’t there before the play. They aren’t there after. They don’t respond to any messages. They don’t answer any calls. Over and over people come up with congratulations. With praise. It doesn’t matter. It doesn’t matter because Shay isn’t there. The cast goes out for the afterparty, but they all give up on talking to Del quickly, and it doesn’t matter.

At 3AM, unable to sleep, Del resorts to messaging Shay’s dad, asking if they’re okay, breath held until lungs scream in an attempt to beat back the panic.

‘Something is wrong,’ Fear says. ‘So what?’ Del asks.

‘Shay is hurt/dead/wrong,’ Fear says. ‘Even if they are, they’ll recover,’ Del says back. ‘Shay always recovers.’

‘You’re going to get hurt,’ Fear says. ‘It’s worth it for Shay,’ Del snaps.

Mr. Blackwood messages back “They will be.” and “I promise they’ll call as soon as we get them back.” As if that isn’t utterly terrifying. It’s okay. It’s okay, that’s just how Shay’s dad is. They’ve always said he never realizes he’s being creepy until someone tells him.

‘There’s no air,’ Fear says. And Del’s eyes are hard to force open, but open they do. ‘If the light can get in, so can the air,’ Del replies.

Del messages Mr. Blackwood “When?”

“Soon,” he says.

“Can I wait with you?”

“Of course.”

Del doesn’t have to ask where. Shay’s dad is always at the Institute. The doors are locked, but someone is always there. It’s not the night guard but Mr. Blackwood’s cat that opens the door, though, somehow, and leads Del down to the archives.

‘You’re being watched,’ Fear says. ‘I really don’t care,’ Del replies.

The office door is open. Mr. Blackwood stands when Del walks in. He’s not big on touch, Del knows. Or eye contact. But he puts his hands on Del’s arms and looks in Del’s eyes when he says, “They’re going to be alright, Miss Jackson.” and doesn’t seem to mind when Del throws her arms around him and sobs into his shoulder, because something just turned right in the world and it doesn’t matter because Shay’s still missing.

“Jon?” someone asks from behind her. Martin. Del can’t bear to look up.

“We’re alright, Martin,” Jon says, rubbing a hand over Del’s back.

“Right… I’ll make us some tea.”

Martin gives better hugs than Jon, so it’s him Del is sitting with on the couch half an hour later, talking about her options and one of the Institute therapists who can help if she wants to think about transitioning, and it’s all a bit overwhelming honestly, but it’s a good distraction until the sound of a door creaking open has them all falling silent. There’s a door that shouldn’t be there. Sasha comes through first, inhuman hands depositing a man’s head on Jon’s desk. The rest of his body seems to be draped over Ms. Tonner’s shoulder. Her eyes flash in the light and her teeth seem a bit too sharp through her grimace. And Del really couldn’t give a shit about any of that, because there’s Shay, smiling an exhausted smile, and it’s actually kind of nice how warm they are when she hugs them, even if it would worry Del on anyone else.

“Oh shit,” they say after a second. “The play.”

“It’s fine,” Del assures them, wiping away her tears. “Wasn’t my best performance anyway.”

“Fuck that,” Shay says. “I bet you were perfect.”

“So,” Shay says later as Del lays in their bed beside them, struggling to keep her eyes open. “You’re a girl.”

“So,” Del says through a yawn, “you’re a monster.”

“Yeah, but you knew that even when you thought I was human.” They laugh as Del fails to blindly smack their arm. There’s a long moment of silence, and Del is almost asleep when they finally say, “I’m sorry.”

“For what?” she asks. “Being a monster? Or not telling me?”

“Both?”

“Hey.” Del waits until Shay finally looks over at her. “Never be ashamed of what you are. Only what you do.”

“Then I’m sorry for lying.”

Del laughs. “You never lied. You’re a terrible liar. I would’ve pulled it from you way before now if you’d lied.”

“Still.”

“Apology accepted. Now shut up and get some sleep.”

“You know I don’t actually need to sleep?”

Del forces her eyes open one last time, just so she can roll them. “Well I do, so you might as well get some anyway.”

“I love you.”

“Love you too, arsehole.”

‘You’re going to get hurt,’ Fear says. ‘Fuck off,’ Del replies.

Her parents don’t take it well. Being gay, they can understand. For some reason, being trans is harder. They try, she’ll give them that. They do try. It’s still uncomfortable being home, though. Instead, she spends more time with Shay, who doesn’t care. With Shay’s family, who just knew. At some point, even Ms. Tonner tells her, “You can call me Daisy, Del,” and they let her blame the hormones when she cries.

When Chris laughs at her, the floor below him mysteriously crumbles into a sinkhole. When she gets denied the first female role she auditions for, lightning hits the theater and the play has to be delayed for repairs.

“You really shouldn’t have done that,” she tells Shay.

“Freak accident,” they lie, terribly.

When the Dark reaches out for her, it touches Shay and burns. When the walls start closing in and she can’t breathe, Shay crumbles them and all Del feels is a breeze.

‘You’re going to get hurt,’ Fear says.

‘It’s worth it,’ Del replies. And when a terrified man starts raving at Shay as they’re trying to show him out of the Institute, Del doesn’t hesitate to get between them and shut him down with a harsh order to leave. He still doesn’t go of his own volition, but he’s taken back enough for the spider on his neck to get a solid hold.

Martin goes to all her plays. Jon helps her apply to uni. Sasha runs lines with her. Basira reads all her books to help her study. Daisy shows her how to pin someone twice her size. Shay grins.

It’s worth it.

But the summer after they graduate, Shay meets Willa.

Del won’t deny being a bit jealous, but that isn’t why she doesn’t like Willa. It’s because Willa would never tell Shay “You shouldn’t have done that,” even if she was secretly pleased. Willa would never step between Shay and an angry man to keep Shay from doing something they’d regret. Willa wouldn’t do anything she could to pull Shay back when they got too close to the edge. Willa is fuel to the fire, and the problem isn’t even that.

The problem is, she makes Shay forget they don’t like fire, and they love her for it.

“I’m worried,” Del says. “I’m afraid. Shay, you’re going to get hurt.”

“No, I won’t,” Shay says. But that’s wrong. That’s not how you respond to the fear of pain. They smile at her, and it hurts. It hurts. “You’re wrong about her. It’s going to be fine.”

But it isn’t.

‘You’re going to get hurt,’ Fear says. ‘It’s worth it,’ Del replies. Will always reply. It’s worth it for Shay. Now and forever.

But.

‘They’re going to destroy themself,’ Fear says. ‘And there will be nothing you can do but watch.’

And that. That’s not. Nothing is worth that. But what else can she do? She can’t keep them safe from themself.

As long as Shay never told her they were a monster, they’d thought, then maybe to her they weren’t. They were wrong, of course. Shay isn’t a monster to her even now. Shay is her best friend, her family, and nothing less.

‘You can’t help them,’ Fear says, and Del says ‘I know.’

She goes to Jon before she leaves.

“I can’t stay,” she tells him. “I can’t watch them walk into this knowing there’s nothing I can do.”

“I understand,” he says, sad but honest. “We’ll still be here. You aren’t leaving them alone.” And she knows. That’s the only reason she can do this.

“Just… I don’t know what I’m going to do without them.” Jon’s still terrible at hugs, but he tries, and he still doesn’t care when she sobs into his shoulder. “They’re going to make it through this, right?”

“They will. I know this is hard, but we understand.”

“You can still call us, you know,” Daisy says from behind her. “We won’t say anything. You don’t have to be alone either.”

“Are you joking?” she laughs. “You’re all terrible liars.”

“Okay, call Martin, then.”

“No. No, I- I think I need to try, at least. And, you know, if sometimes it feels like I’m being watched… I won’t mind.”

“Good girl,” Daisy says, and makes Del lean down so she can kiss her forehead. “If you try to lose our numbers—”

“Martin will just add them back in, I know.”

“Good. Come on, think you still have some things at ours. You’re staying the night. We’ll take you to the station tomorrow.”

“You’re going to get hurt,” she tells Shay just before boarding the train that will take her to university. To the next chapter of her life. Without them. “I hope someday you can show up to one of my plays and tell me it’s worth it. But until then, I can’t bear to sit here and just let it happen. I love you. So much. But until you can say, with absolute certainty, that this is worth what you’ll lose… please don’t contact me.”

‘Well done,’ Fear says. ‘You got yourself hurt.’

‘If it makes them reconsider,’ Del replies, ‘just enough that they survive… then it’s worth it.’

‘You’ll never see them again,’ Fear says.

“Yes, I will,” Del states, because anything else is unthinkable. Yes, she will.

#shay tonner #del jackson #my tma fic #not technically a sad #i don't think #reverb ficlet #jonathan sims #daisy tonner #reverb #my writing #yetanothergreyjedi #you asked #the reverb in these holy halls #tma

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