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oceanwithouthermoon · 8 months

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ok putting my saiki k pony ideas here, mostly so i can maybe draw them someday, but also i put so much thought into these ideas and i want everyone to see them

tried to do EVERY character

kusuo- alicorn, no cutie mark

hides his wings under clothes and pretends he doesnt have them, would rather hide his horn but cant and just pretends he doesnt have much magic instead

why does he not have a cutie mark, you may ask?? because he hasnt accepted his quirks+powers as a part of himself.. his special talent is probably helping people but he thinks he only does that because the magic he has makes him basically obligated (its not true ur just a good person!!)

nobody really calls him out on constantly wearing clothes with so much coverage because they think hes just insecure about being a blank flank so late in life (kinda true, but it defeats the point if everyone KNOWS..)

will he ever get his cutie mark?? um.. i dont know.. maybe ?? definitely not in his high school years

chiyo- unicorn, baking cutie mark but idk what specifically, maybe a heart shaped chocolate like the one she made for kaido

specialty magic for tracking, she was a late bloomer with her cutie mark because she discovered her tracking talent really young and thought that had to do with her special talent for a longgg time

shun- pegasus, black feathers cutie mark

underdeveloped wings (like scootaloo obvi)

convinced hes just a late bloomer but hes almost an adult and still cant fly (never will but he doesnt know that)

gets these cool wing extensions that allow him to glide but still not fly

tells people his cutie mark is his "jet black wings" but its actually writing quills

riki- earth pony, heart shaped ramen bowl cutie mark ?? idfk what his special talent is i just think he has a lotta love in him..

HUGE stallion.. HUGE..

aren- a kirin..

has a huge scar where a cutie mark would be on a pony in the shape of an exclamation point

used to let his anger free when he was a delinquent and when he transferred, he was pretty self deprecating about his control of himself but he actually has a crazy amount of self control..

chisato- pegasus, hammer cutie mark maybe ?

almost made her an earth pony cuz of the brute strength thing but i like this better

got her cutie mark REALLY late because she was absolutely convinced her special talent had to do with food, and when she got it while doing a job she was like "WORKING IS MY SPECIAL TALENT??" but it wasnt about the job, shes just really strong, hardworking, and adaptable

kokomi- zebra, golden heart cutie mark

couldnt decide if she was a crystal pony or a zebra, decided on zebra

her mark LITERALLY seems to glow golden light, it doesnt actually but.. it really seems that way

ik her being a zebra may not sound like it makes sense because zecora got a bunch of NEGATIVE attention, but HEAR me out okok.. this pony au would be in a modern setting with more diversity and people would focus less on her being a zebra and more on her being beautiful and having such a unique pattern..

zecora is the only zebra we see in mlp so theres no reason to think other zebras couldnt have blue hair, esp in the era of saikis mind control (idk how that would tie into this universe cuz ponies already have crazy colors but shhh) so her hair is prob blue with dark and light stripey highlights

mikoto- griffon

ik she might make more sense as a unicorn but her fortune telling strikes me as more of an.. outside magic ?? like.. she was born with the ability, but its not a physical magical power, its like pinkies pinkie sense!!

so yea i like her as a griffon, its unique and i like the idea of her feathers having a unique pattern around her eyes thats akin to gyaru makeup (see: gilda but make it gyaru esque)

and yes she can still be colorful, we see colorful griffons in the late seasons of mlp

metori- a crystal pony, diamond ring cutie mark

tells people thats his cutie mark because its expensive and hes rich as hell but his special talent is actually MAKING jewelry..

i like the idea of him lying about his special talent so i had to think of something that he could say its cuz hes rich.. i kinda wanted his talent to be baking for some reason but i couldnt think of how that would work

reita- earth pony, cutie mark is like a cartoon-like ghost surrounded by a scary purple and black aura

was gonna make his mark something more meaningful but i think its funny if people see it and are immediately scared of him but literally all it means is like he SPEAKS to ghosts, like in the most normal way possible

and same thing as miko, he doesnt need to be a unicorn cuz his powers are different from unicorn magic..

touma- unicorn, magnifying glass over a thought bubble cutie mark

the mark is hard to explain but tell me u get me when i say its because hes got stupidly good detective skills and can tell what people are thinking

jokes around and manages to convince people he has crazy magic and his cutie mark actually means he can read minds but he actually isnt very good at unicorn magic at all

kineshi- is a changeling..

why ?? because he just is!! doesnt it make sense for him to be a creature that feeds off of making other people feel happiness and love ? it totally makes sense

honorable mentions 😛

saikis parents are both earth ponies, and i have no idea what their cutie marks would be but heres some silly ideas: kurumi has a cradle cutie mark (meant to be a mama😋) and kuniharu has a boot and he tells people that it's symbolism for like hard work but people know hes lying and think it means hes a boot licker METAPHORICALLY, which is almost right but.. it means literally

kusuke is an earth pony and his telepathy canceler is probably shaped like a unicorn horn in this universe hehe, and his cutie mark is maybe like a microscope or something ? hes just a mad scientist idk

btw chono in this au would def be like trixie lulamoon if u know what im saying.. he would be a unicorn but his special talent is STAGE magic and his horn doesnt do anything☠️

satou prob has that little hourglass cutie mark thats really common in background characters for animation purposes, idk what his special talent is but that would be really funny

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the-lark-ascending69 · 1 month

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i’m begging please make the flayed robin a fic it would be so good

Hii anon I'd love to!! However I am unable to write fanfic in this moment of my life. Ever since 2022 my life can only be summarized in college stuff, college stuff, a little bit of work and more college stuff. I am falling behind on my reading schedule as we speak lol 🙃 i expect to be free to write some time after... 2028, maybe (big maybe). I CAN draw though, which is not such a long-term compromise. Maybe I'll manage to draw something one of these days.

For the time being I would like to redirect you to two GREAT flayed!Robin fanfics that I adore, the devil's after both of us by @eskawrites and We're Going to End You by UnholyHelbig. Both featuring ronance. These are the only ones I know. Sadly, looking up "flayed Robin" on ao3 hasn't turned out to be a very fruitful search, but that doesn't mean there aren't more out there! I'll have to keep searching. If anyone reading this knows of more flayed!Robin fanfics please lmk!! Of course there's also @snowangeldotmp3 's rebel robin: surviving the upside down AU, which I'm still trying to catch up with, but it sounds like they're working on some cool flayed!Robin stuff!

While I can't give you a fanfic I CAN share with you some flayed!Robin ideas I have:

Vecna/the Mind Flayer is incredibly subtle this time, choosing to corrupt Robin rather than completely taking over her body and replacing her. He preys on her darkest thoughts, which are generally, jealousy, resentment, shame, self-deprecation hopelessness and loneliness. They both open the door for him, and act as weapons he uses to slowly torture her and turn her against her loved ones.

It begins with Robin feeling irritable, out of place, especially with Steve. Steve suddenly stops feeling like home and more like someone she shares a loving bond with but who can never really understand her, because he's a heterosexual man, because he has money, because he's high on the social pyramid and she spent her whole teenage years fighting to not fall to the bottom, because he can allow himself liberties not permitted to her. She begins to resent him. When she begins to isolate herself from him, it becomes incredibly easy for Vecna to make her spiral further and further down.

Almost nothing Robin says while possessed is 100% untrue. It tends to come from something she really feels. In normal circumstances, Robin would feel a bit sad knowing Steve can never fully understand her experience. Flayed!Robin resents him over it and wants to hurt him. But the pain is there. There ARE exceptions though, and they're interesting because the others are so used to hearing her say evil half-truths that when she says something so horriffic the real Robin couldn't possibly believe it, they think she means it deep down.

Flayed!Robin isn't physically violent - another reflection of the real Robin's nature. He uses her silver tongue to attack the others.

There's a lot of confusion from the rest of the group, even once they figure out she IS possesed, because its like she keeps coming back before being pulled under again. One moment she's acting normal and the next she's telling Nancy she always ruins everything. It's hard to tell what is true and what is a lie

Flayed!Robin targets Nancy specifically, not because it's particularly useful to Vecna - I mean, it is, but there's more to that - it comes from Robin's shameful love for Nancy, the source of so much pain. Flayed!Robin takes her anger out on her.

Flayed!Robin particularly enjoys making Nancy cry. Her favorite method is reminding her of Barb, blaming her for everything that goes wrong and telling her everyone would be better of if she were dead. Otherwise, she'll get them all killed until she's the last one standing. At the beginning though, she's just mean. She acts irritable and angry and rolls her eyes at her and doesn't take her seriously and casually insults her intelligence. She does it sparingly enough that Nancy actually wonders if she heard that right, if Robin is being serious, if it's just an instance of her "not understanding social cues" or if she really thinks she's "losing her spark" or "keeps talking nonsense lately", or whatever Vecna makes her say. This is one of the cases in which Robin doesn't mean what she says in the slightest.

Another way in which flayed Robin likes to taunt Nancy is by publicly accusing her of homosexuality. Everyone awkwardly ignores that most of the time (though sometimes Hopper sideyes her, Joyce closes her eyes and inhales deeply, and Mike snaps and loudly declares his sister isn't gay), and they ignore Nancy's sharp breath and tight fists when Robin says anything on the matter ("Aaw, Wheeler, are you in love with me? You know, I did take you for a queer but I didn't think you'd be after me. Thought you were still hung up on that Barb girl").

At the beginning of Robin's possesion, Nancy was incredibly kind to her, saying sweet, loving things to her even if unsure if she could hear her or not. She promised she would take care of her and that she'll be okay. Robin would usually roll her eyes and tell her, voice full of scorn, that if Nanch Wheeler is promising to "take care of her" then her odds aren't very promising. It hurts Nancy so much to hear that. She thinks there's a little bit of the real Robin behind those words.

Nancy becomes exhausted after some time. Exhausted and angry. She convinces herself it's only Vecna in there, and she refuses to offer him any kindness. He will pay for what he did to the girl she loved.

When they get her and tie her up so they can think of a plan, they leave her alone for a moment, and for the first time, Vecna retreats entirely, to let her fully feel the bite of ropes around her wrists, keeping her immobilized, tied to the chair. He wants her to fully feel the terror of her trauma without any numbing effect. Bonus points if she's not fully alone - Nancy is keeping watch, and Robin is scared and confused as to why she looks at her with such cold eyes, why she won't help her, why she won't comfort her when she sees her panicking and crying and begging. It's the worst torture so far, and when Nancy steps forward, and looks at her with so much hate, and says "Shut. Up", Robin feels her heart break all over again (Nancy had told her she loved her once and she never knew what she meant by that. She supposes the love is gone now). She has no idea Vecna has played with Nancy in this way a million times before.

Whenever they drug her to keep her unconcious, Nancy gives her as much physical affection as she can - stroking her cheek, brushing her hair, cuddling her. She wonders if, in this way, Robin will feel something Vecna doesn't.

When she comes back, Robin remembers everything she said while possessed and won't stop apologizing, refusing any comfort Nancy tries to offer her because she thinks she doesn't deserve it, but Nancy won't hear any of that. She stays by Robin's side no matter what, even if it means skipping school or not sleeping. The girl she loves is back and she's not wasting a single second more away from her.

#ronance #flayed robin #will try to make a flayed robin tag #because people seem to like this concept

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mandelirious · 2 years

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Brown Eyes

2: The Reveal

modern din x reader; coffee shop au

word count: 2.6k

a/n: part 2 is here!! i’m having so much fun writing my own little rom-com so i hope you’re enjoying it as well!! as always, comments and reblogs are much appreciated 💕

series masterlist

It was another week until you saw him again. You’d be embarrassed to admit it, but you’d been waiting for him to walk in for days–eyes snapping up to the door every time the bell rang only to be disappointed when you weren’t greeted by soft eyes and messy curls.

It was another break in the stream of customers and you were crouched on the floor, head fully inside one of the cabinets as you tried to sort out the mess the morning crew had made. Someone clearly hadn’t taught the new hire how things were organized and you weren’t going to wait until the middle of a rush to be hunting down the lids for your large cups. Your coworker, Keira, was handling any of the customers that came in while giving you an impromptu lecture on plant care. Keira was your favorite coworker and so effortlessly cool that you’d be self-conscious around her if she wasn’t so nice. She brought in clippings from her own plants to decorate the shop’s back wall of shelves–random shoots and leaves suspended in mason jars of water that she somehow kept healthy and growing. You’d killed every plant she had gifted you over the years and she was refusing to let you give up and buy plastic ones instead.

The bell at the door rang during Keira’s explanation of how to water perennials that you were only half listening to. You were still wedged in the cabinet, having almost gotten everything in its proper place when you heard a familiar, gruff voice.

“Uh, Americano with cinnamon?”

Your head popped up reflexively at the order–right into the top of the cabinet.

“Shit,” you hissed, rubbing the top of your head as you extricated yourself and looked up. There he was, watching as you crouched on the floor holding your throbbing head. This wasn’t the second impression you’d been hoping for.

“You good?” Keira was also looking at you now, head tilted in concern.

“I’m great,” you answered as you straightened up, trying to figure out when exactly you’d gotten out of breath. “Actually, I’ll take this one.” Your failure at sounding nonchalant was obvious as Keira's eyes flicked between you and the new customer, but she just shrugged and went to rearrange pastries.

“Are you okay?” His eyes were trained on you, that small smile on his lips, and you remembered why you’d been so eager to see him again.

“Oh, I’m fine.” You waved away his concern and hoped he couldn’t read the embarrassment on your features. He didn’t need to know that you’d literally jumped at the chance to talk to him. Your eyes fell on him again, taking in his features as quickly as you could before it became staring. He looked a little more rested this time, eyes brighter when they met yours. His hair was just as messy as before, but that might have had something to do with the motorcycle helmet he had tucked under one arm. You quickly compartmentalized the mental picture of him on a bike for another time. “Brown Eyes, right?”

His grin chased away any shyness you might have had at saying the nickname he’d inspired. In fact, he looked so pleased that you wondered if he’d been expecting you to forget about your exchange the week before. It was so endearing that you started on his drink to save yourself from grinning back at him like an idiot. A silence was stretching out, broken only by the sound of the espresso machine pulling his shots and the soft instrumental music that Keira played over the intercom during her shifts.

“I’m sorry.” You glanced up at his words, glad he had broken the silence when you couldn’t. He was looking at the counter and then letting out another of those self-deprecating laughs. “If I was a zombie last week, I was going on no sleep. I promise I’m not always that spaced out.”

“Yeah, I thought you looked better today.” You made a face right after the words were out, realizing how they’d sounded. Luckily, he was still smiling as you opened your mouth to backtrack.

“No, it’s okay. I like getting insults with my coffee.” There was a glint in his eye that let you know he was anything but offended. You rolled your eyes at his teasing and hoped the blush wasn’t evident on your cheeks.

This time when you set the drink on the counter in front of him, you wished you had picked something a little more complicated to keep him around longer. You also wished, for the first time, that this was a coffee shop that asked for customer’s names when they ordered. Calling him Brown Eyes in your head was starting to feel far too sappy. The butterflies you were starting to feel when seeing his smile weren’t helping either.

He paid for his drink this time, plus a nice tip that you pretended not to notice when you flipped around the iPad that served as your cash register. There was silence again, but not uncomfortable. His face looked as though he was thinking something through and you gave him the moment to figure it out. Those beautiful eyes flicked over to the other end of the counter, where Keira was putting out more chocolate chip cookies from a local bakery you partnered with and pretending not to listen to your conversation.

“Do you work Thursdays?” His attention was back on you, the question blurted out like he was afraid he would lose his nerve.

You bit your lip to stop what would be an embarrassing smile. “Usually.”

“Maybe I’ll see you then.” He was ducking his head again as he started for the door, but you could see his grin when you managed to get out a small word of agreement.

The door swung shut behind him and you looked over to see Keira’s eyebrows halfway up her forehead. You crouched again and hid your flaming cheeks back in the cabinet.

Two days passed far too slowly until you found yourself once again checking the door constantly on a sluggish Thursday afternoon. You were determined to be confident and casual this time. Not even the shop’s owner stopping in for a surprise visit could throw you off your game. Greef Karga had opened this place a decade ago and was the most hands-off supervisor you’d ever had. He knew you had the day-to-day things under control and only handled a few behind-the-scenes tasks on his own. Every once in a while he would decide to hang around for what he referred to as ‘quality control’, but was really just an excuse to drink coffee and chat. Greef called Nevarro Coffee House his ‘semi-retirement project’, though you had no idea what he’d actually retired from except that he’d apparently done very well at it.

You glanced over your laptop screen where you were pretending to write to see the older man still poking around the supply closet. God, you hoped he wouldn’t still be here when Brown Eyes showed up. Greef was nice, but you didn’t need your boss as an audience to your awkward flirting attempts. Not awkward, confident, you reminded yourself. A phone call thankfully took him out of the shop a few minutes later and you breathed a sigh of relief. It was perfect timing now–only a few hours left in the day for your favorite customer to show up. Plus, closing by yourself ensured that no other coworkers would be in the shop to ask you questions afterward about a man you knew nothing about. Questions like all of the ones you’d dodged from Keira a few days ago.

For once, the universe was listening to you and the door was pushed open for a head of dark curls to poke through. Had he gotten more handsome? Maybe it was just the scruff now lining his jaw that hadn’t been there before.

“Hi,” he greeted. His face looked adorably relieved to see you and his warm smile as he approached the counter was already making your stomach flip.

“Hi yourself.” Confidence, confidence, confidence, was playing like a mantra in your head, but you were feeling anything but. You hadn’t been this frazzled around someone in a long time and you still couldn’t quite explain why he was the one having this effect on you. It was more than his handsome face and perpetual bedhead. It was the small smiles, the shyness, the expressions he was clearly bad at hiding. It was something to do with the way his eyes followed you, curious and sincere–patient even when you’d been watching him without saying anything for too long. Which you were doing right now. Shit. “The usual?”

“Please.” He had the motorcycle helmet in his hands again and set it down on one of the stools in the middle of the counter. Its rounded surface wobbled slightly and you could see leather gloves tucked inside as well. Did setting his stuff down mean he was staying? Apparently so, as he was now settling on a stool at the counter halfway between you and the display case. The butterflies in your stomach were suddenly swarming.

“Hanging around today?”

He shrugged at your question. “I’ve got some time.” Glancing over your shoulder, he was immediately reminding you of the first time you’d made him this drink. The all-consuming exhaustion was gone from his eyes, but he was leaning his elbow on the counter the same way, watching you curiously with his head on his hand.

“Are you usually busy?”

“More than I’d like.”

You’d thought he came into the shop at odd times, usually early afternoon when most people hadn’t gotten out of work yet. From the charming grays in his beard, you guessed he was a few years older than you, but not old enough to be retired. Whatever he did, it must have odd hours. You were just about to ask when he pointed to the coffee grounds in your hand.

“What do you use for this drink?”

The question threw you off a little, but you looked down at the bag in your hands, sealing it up before pushing it down the counter towards him. A tanned hand plucked it off the light wood and flipped it around for his inspection. All of the beans you used came from a local roaster to ensure they were fresh. Hands off as he was, Greef knew good coffee.

“Trying to replicate it?” you teased, enjoying the smirk it brought to his lips.

Shaking his head, he slid the bag back over the counter. “I don’t think I’d make it as well as you.” It was obvious flattery, but you were happy to let him get away with it. You tapped out a perfect line of cinnamon down the middle of the finished drink and handed it over.

He inched out of his stool and you were worried for a moment that he might be leaving, but it was only to grab his wallet. Even though you were pretty sure you knew the answer, you glanced at his left hand while he was paying. Nothing, not even a tan line on his ring finger. Although he did look far too pleased with himself when you looked back up. He had to have caught you checking, but smug looked so good on him that you couldn't find it in yourself to care.

“I wanted to ask…” He was having trouble meeting your eyes now as he spoke and your heart was very suddenly in your throat. “I know you’re at work so please feel free to stop me whenever, but…would you like to go out for a drink sometime?” The last part was pushed out of his lungs in a hurry, much like the way he’d asked before if you would be working today.

The butterflies in your stomach had reached a crescendo and then dissolved into a pleasant buzz. You bit your lip to keep your grin from reaching embarrassing proportions and nodded, falling a little in love with the way his eyes lit up. Quickly grabbing a napkin, you scribbled down your first name and number. He took the napkin from you like it was something precious, eyes roving over the curls of ink. Then, your name was coming out of his mouth in that deep gravelly voice and you thought you might melt on the spot.

The pair of you had to look like two idiots grinning at each other like this, but you couldn’t help it. “Do I get to know your name?”

He looked confused for a moment and then cringed at himself, like he’d completely forgotten he even had a name. “Shit. Sorry, I’m D-”

“Din Djarin!”

Both of your heads turned to the back door where Greef was entering with a wide smile on his face–effectively breaking the bubble that had settled around the two of you. Din looked just as confused as you that your boss was calling his full name until recognition clicked in his eyes a split second later. “Karga?”

They were giving each other a handshake and then a hug, and you were left to cluelessly look between them wondering what exactly was happening. At least you’d gotten his name. Din–it suited him.

Greef seemed completely oblivious to what was going on when he entered, but you noticed Din carefully fold the napkin and tuck it into his back pocket.“It’s been months and no one’s seen you around. Let me get you something.” The older man clapped him on the shoulder and moved behind the counter. Seeing Din’s drink already paid for, he gestured to the display case. “Pastry?”

Din glanced over at you but you both seemed just as lost as to how the situation had changed so quickly. He focused back on Greef and scanned over the available treats, pointing hesitantly to a croissant.

“Nothing more exciting than that? We’ve got these peanut butter bars that will change your life.” You hadn’t noticed how boisterous your boss was until this moment–in sharp contrast with Din’s low tones.Giving over to his mysterious friendliness, you stepped back so he could have full run of the counter space.

Din was chuckling again, but this time it was in familiarity. Your curiosity was running wild. “No, it’s okay,” he was saying as the other man boxed up a croissant, “I’ll end up giving some to the kid, he wants everything I’m eating right now.”

Wait, did he say kid?

Din seemed to notice what he’d said right as you did and looked over at you nervously, but Greef was grabbing his attention again.

“How is the little gremlin? Keeping you busy?”

Okay, he definitely said kid.

“You have no idea.” Din was still looking like he’d let something slip that he wasn’t planning on and it was sending your imagination into uncomfortable spirals. The blissful excitement of just a minute ago was being doused by reality and you didn’t even have a chance to talk about it.

Greef was still chattering, too busy making his way back out from behind the counter to notice the slight panic creeping into Din’s eyes. Before either of you could say another word, Din was being ushered out of the door with an arm around his shoulders ‘to catch up’. He quickly grabbed his helmet off of the stool, shooting you a look that felt a lot like an apology before he was gone and you were standing alone in sudden silence.

#din djarin x reader #din djarin x you #mandalorian x reader #mandalorian x you #my fic

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four-rabbit · 3 years

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Here lies Roman García Lopez

Roman is not dead, calm down

This is just a small oneshot from the ghost au about Roman coming out as trans to Remus when they were teenagers.

Warnings: swearing, hospitals, self-deprecation, misgender, mentions of transphobia, talks of death

Obs: in some descriptions I'll be refering to Remus and Roman with she/her pronouns, but thats specifically when I'm describing their thoughts and they are referring to themselves or each other with those pronouns, since Remus didn't know he was trans here and Roman is coming out. When I'm not describing their thoughts I'll be referring to them solely by he/him pronouns.

If you tag this as r*mrom I'll punch you

The twins used to be best friends. They would play in the backyard and braid each other's hair and laugh and cry and almost forget all the ways that the world was cold and merciless.

So so merciless.

The Duke analyzed his nails as if they were the most interesting thing he had ever seen and the silence was so dense it could be cut with a knife. He wanted to talk, he really wanted to. He wanted to talk about the last movie he watched and gossip about their classmates and make jokes that were questionable to say the least and wanted to see her sister laugh and look alive again. But what would she say? At this point, what did they have in common? What could she do? Open her mouth just to throw all that filthy that was inside her mind at her poor sister? Talk about her life and about how she was a disgusting piece of garbage? Ruin those few hours that they had together? Yeah, as their mother would always say, if you have nothing nice to say just shut up.

The Duke felt like he never had anything nice to say.

"How is school going?" The one in the hospital bed started. Panic dominated The Duke's eyes and he didn't move for a good ten seconds, looking like he wasn't even breathing until he shrugged.

"As shitty as always, you know. The usual stuff"

"I wish I was there" The Princess sighed.

"Nah, you don't, it's the most boring thing ever, I got a shitton of homework and also tomorrow I got a fucking chemistry test and I don't even know if I'm going to study, you got it easy, dude" as soon as those words left his mouth he regretted it "No, I'm kidding, that was stupid, this sucks too I know, but if I could I would just leave school, I mean who cares?"

"You can't do that. School is important"

The Duke didn't say anything. He had a lot of answers but none of them were nice. And he wanted to be nice to The Princess, at least. He had lost everybody else, even Virgil, even Virgil, she was not going to lose her sister too.

"Why did you call me?" Finally said.

"What?"

"Dad said that you wanted to talk to me. Specifically. Why?"

"I have to ask you for a favor"

"What is it? Yes, I can get you drugs" The Princess raised an eyebrow at his brother.

"What? I'm sure it would make the hospital more interesting, no judgments."

"No. No, it's not that" he was so tense and that was stressing the Duke out. He closed his mouth shut because when he was nervous he rambled and when he rambled he always ended up saying the worst possible things. The Princess took a breath as if it was a battle to take the words out of his throat.

"I'm afraid that I'm going to die"

"A lot of people are" said before he could contain himself. That should have earned at least a chuckle from the Princess but he didn't make a sound.

"No. No. I mean- what I mean is…" he decided to just rip it off like a band aid "I feel like I’m going to die in a few days. I think-"

"Bullshit!" The Duke snapped without warning, startling his brother. "You have no fucking right to say that!" Is it really that easy to make him cry?

"It's true! I- I can feel it, okay? Death is following me"

"Death has always followed you, you stupid fuck, you're like a godamn death magnet!"

"Yeah but it's different now, I- look, how I know doesn't matter, I need you to do something for-"

"I'm not doing shit for you!" Ok that's a lot of emotion for someone who was completely numb the entire week, Duke's body has grown unused to feelings apparently, as he was shaking and burning and screaming and crying and wanting to curl up in a ball and die.

"Just listen-"

"Fuck you!" The Duke covered his ear to show that he wasn't going to listen but also suddenly because everything was too much. Too much noise, too much light, too much, too much. "I'm going to tell your doctor and she's going to say that's bullshit because that's bullshit you can't just die!" Yelled at the top of his lungs. She couldn't lose her sister, no, no, everyone but her.

"I need you to change my name in my gravestone!" said as loudly as his brother, sitting up. That took The Duke by surprise and he uncovered his ears in confusion.

"What?"

"When I die, mom and dad will pay for a gravestone and its going to have a name on it"

"You're not-"

"Fucking listen to me! I don't want to die too, for fucks sake, but I need to be ready when it happens!" The Princess finally snapped in his despair to be listened to. His brother stopped and seemed to consider his options until, slowly, sat down again.

"What do you mean, [...]?" he said his brother's deadname.

"Exactly that. That name. It's not my name"

"Are you high?"

"Look" he ran his hand through his hair, frustrated "I had a lot of time to think. I- I did some research and… I- I'm not a girl" The Duke didn't say anything. For once in his life he had no idea what to say. "Yeah. I've always felt like that. Like something was… off. Wrong. That someone made a mistake when-" he gestured toward his body "I'm not telling mom and dad. They wouldn't understand, they never understand shit. But I know you will, sister"

"Wait, hold the fuck up, what are you saying? If you're not a girl, what the fuck are you then?" The Princess swallowed, scared to say it out loud. There would be no coming back if he did it. He raised his hand to compliment the teenager in front of him, shaking from head to toe.

"I'm- Roman. Nice to meet you." he was crying already, trying to not let his voice fail him "I'm your brother, I'm a trans man and I don't want to die just to be remembered by the wrong name"

Trans man. Trans. A word that was known but still sounded like a secret. Forbidden.

The Duke looked at his brother's hand. Then he looked at his face, with his long hair and tears and all that fear in his eyes.

And he understood, that was what scared him the most.

"Something was off. Something was wrong. Someone made a mistake"

"I don't want to be remembered by the wrong name"

He understood every single word on a deep personal level, he knew that despair, that fear.

He shaked his brother's hand, who immediately melted in relief.

"Roman. You're going to live." Said with that same caring voice that he used when they were kids and Roman had nightmares and he would sing lullabies completely out of tune until his brother fell asleep, delicately cleaning his brother's tears. “You're going to live and you're going to make sure that mom and dad remember you right. I promise"

"But what if I-"

"No! No" The Duke interrupted, not allowing his brother to finish that phrase, not again. "You know what. You're coming with me" announced, starting to look through the closet for some clothes his brother could use.

"... what?"

"We are leaving this shithole"

"I can't leave the hospital [...]!" deadname.

"I don't want to be remembered by the wrong name"

The Duke closed his eyes and when he turned back to his brother he was smiling almost maniacally.

"Yes, you can" he found some sweater pants and a black tshirt "Here, put this on. This place is fucking you up. Mom is fucking you up, this is her fault. We are going out and you're going to live. You're going to live" an idea came to his mind "Do you want to cut your hair?" Roman looked at the clothes on his hands. Then at the teenager looking at him full of expectation. Deep down Roman knew. Staying there was not helping. It was making things worse, he knew even deeper down. And if he was dying he wanted to die by his sister's side.

"Yes. I want to cut my hair" admitted. He didn't hate his long hair, it was pretty and brushing it was relaxing. But he hated how it made everyone think he was a girl. "But mom will be pissed"

"What doesn't piss that woman off?" Exclaimed exasperated and Roman opened the smallest grin.

"Yesterday they gave me strawberry juice instead of orange juice and she threw an entire fucking tantrum"

"Exactly. If she was a little bit whiter she would be a textbook Karen" that made Roman giggle.

"She would. Are we actually doing this?"

"Of course we're! Now get ready, Princes- Princey" Roman smiled widely.

"I like Princey"

"I thought you would" Roman got dressed and The Duke gave him his black hoodie.

"So you won't get recognized" explained.

"I'm sure nobody is going to try to arrest me if they see me sneaking out, thank you very much. Also what was the last time you washed this? It smells like shit" actually Roman would never comment on it out loud but his sister was generally a mess. With hair that wasn't brushed in days and wasn't washed in an even longer time, smudged make up all over her face and dirty baggy clothes. If only he had connected the dots before it was too late.

"I'm sure you'll survive" replied sharply, opening the door.

The hoodie didn't help.

" What are you doing here Ms. Garcia? Do you want anything?" The first nurse that saw them was quick to ask.

"Ahn…" The Duke opened his mouth to explain. Then close it again.

"I just wanted to take some air, my sister came to visit me and we thought it would be cool to go outside real quick" Roman came to rescue him.

"Your sister…" slowly her gaze went to the other teenager "Oh, you. I'm not sure I can allow that. Not without your mother's permission"

"You can come with us, then! My mom wouldn't like to know that you're keeping me stuck in my room. Like a prisoner" the nurse looked worried. Their mom had a reputation around the hospital and it wasn't a good one.

"Just five minutes, okay?"

"Wonderful!" Roman winked in his brother's direction, who opened a smile and they were both guided toward the front of the hospital, where there was a small decorative garden.

"What now?" The Duke whispered, gesturing toward the nurse with his head, she was way too close. Roman looked around and his eyes stopped at one specific point.

"There"

"What?"

"There's a cat"

"I don't see anything"

"Its because its not alive" the animals souls were the easiest to attract and even control. "Her" Roman said in an almost sing-song voice. The cat tilted its head, an empty hole in the place where its left eye was supposed to be and, without warning, threw itself at the nurse, emitting a meow that from her perspective came out of thin air and made the poor woman scream in surprise.

"Now!" And Roman started running. His brother only stopped to giggle before running too. When she noticed that the kids were missing they were already far away.

"Fuck, that was fun!" Roman exclaimed as he recovered from the run, still breathing with some difficulty. His brother enjoyed the feeling for a little longer. He almost felt alive for a minute.

"Of course it was, it was my idea"

"I mean I was the one who fooled the nurse, all you did was stutter"

"Oh, shut up. It's not my fault everyone likes you best"

"Everyone is stupid. You're the cooler twin"

"Don't you come at me with your compliments!" Roman laughed, a genuinely laugh that filled his brother with happiness and warmth.

"Right. What do we do now? I'm still totally down for that haircut"

"Well first of all we're going to steal some scissors because I'm totally broke-"

"Oh my god!" Roman exclaimed in disbelief "My own sister! Wanting to make me a criminal!"

If you get to be brother why do I have to be sister?

Remus ignored that thought for the time being.

"You're not going to regret it! We can steal some chocolate too!" replied, putting his arm around his brother's shoulders. Roman rolled his eyes.

"Oh my life would be so dull without you" The one that would call himself Remus in the future smiled. And I wouldn't be alive without you, thought to himself.

#roman sanders #remus Sanders #creativitwins #ghost au #rabbit writes #fanfic #cw swearing #tw hospital #tw death mention

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jeonqqin · 4 years

Text

to the moon. [m]

h. jisung x reader | pregnancy au

— ❝Becoming a young mother was never your intention. But you had Jisung there with you, so it all really seemed like it would be okay.❞

WORD COUNT: 5k

CONTAINS: light smut, angst, movie spoilers(???), description of pregnancy/surgery, complications

WARNING: very mild smut, pregnancy sex, do not read if easily triggered by death and/or surgery

A/N: hope you enjoy my first blurb :)

blog masterlist | ⟲ fic song

Never once did you think you’d get pregnant so soon in life. With a belly bump that pushed against even the loosest of your sweaters, and more emotions than you knew what to do with. But after the initial shock of it all, you actually grew excited. A baby was growing inside of you, and for whatever reason, that made you feel so damn happy. Your boyfriend had to take some time to come around to the idea of being a dad at nineteen years old, but he too grew to love the little tot that made your belly round.

At three months pregnant, Jisung insisted on reading books out loud, convinced that the baby could hear him and knew the sound of daddy’s voice. So, every night before the two of you went to sleep, he opened up whatever book was on hand—it really didn’t matter what it was—and read until you fell asleep against him. It was more difficult when he was on tour, considering you were more emotional than usual and prone to outbursts that you never really meant. While traveling, he was often in a different time-zone, so he couldn’t really call at regular times, and when he did have any spare time, he’d use it to eat and sleep. You were frustrated, to say the least. But you pulled through. Thankfully one of the other members of Stray Kids—Chan, you suspected—came up with the voice memo idea. Jisung ended up sending you recordings of him just talking about nothing at all, and you’d play every new one when you woke up or when you had time.

“Hello little one, it’s your daddy. I really can’t wait to see you, so please hurry out, okay?”

You laughed, rubbing your palm over your stomach. “Don’t listen to him. Please take your time…”

“Mommy and I are ready to take such good care of you—oh, and all of your crazy uncles, of course—”

“You’re the only crazy one of us, Sungie!”

“Ah, don’t listen to him, baby. Like I said, they’re crazy.”

You smiled fondly down at your phone as you continued to listen to the boys all bicker back and forth. They really were still kids.

“Ah, shi—daddy’s got to go! Take care of mommy for me and don’t cause her too much trouble while I’m gone! Bye, my loves, I’ll see you both soon.”

And you never told Jisung, but you’d play their music out loud as you did little domestic things around the apartment. Usually, you played their upbeat music when you were doing chores; songs like Gone Days, Awkward Silence and Get Cool. But on nights you missed Jisung, you played their pretty songs. Neverending Story and Mixtape: On Track, were the baby’s favorites, you found. You swore you felt the baby kick every time, and soon came to the conclusion that Jisung was right and the baby did know daddy’s voice.

The little guy seemed to like Seungmin’s parts too—and that was also a detail you wouldn’t mention to Jisung.

At four months pregnant, you began to really crave some strange things; from peanut butter in every form, to literally slicing and eating lemons like they were oranges. Jisung put up with all of it and proved to be the perfect father and boyfriend by following every craving with you and giving up everything you couldn’t eat. You’d heard stories about husbands promising to give up alcohol and deli meats for their wives but quickly copping out after the first week—not Jisung. He stuck with you and kept going no matter how hard it was to eat a lemon with breakfast every morning. He was a determined father, and it brought you to tears one night when Stray Kids were going out to celebrate their comeback with drinks, but Jisung declined to tend to you for the night.

“Baby, wha—why are you crying, sweetheart?”

You held your face in your hands as you shook your head, doing the best you could to direct the conversation away from you. He was doing so much for you and just giving you everything you could want, but you couldn’t even listen to him for three minutes without your body giving you some sort of hell.

“I’m okay, Sungie. Just the hormones.” You sniffed, wiping at all the tears that fell down your cheeks in an attempt to stop them, but to no avail.

Jisung hummed, scooting a little closer to you on the couch. You were wearing one of his sweatshirts, which had been turning into a more common occurrence as you got more round, but he loved it. There would be no complaints on his end. It just made you look so much more soft and fluffy to him—that and the fact that you were carrying his child inside of your tummy. He was really loving the whole father thing more and more as time passed.

“Okay, baby. Come here then.” He cooed softly, pulling you into him and wrapping a blanket around the both of you. “Take a nap, for now, let it pass.”

He was really so good.

“I love you.”

He smiled, placing a chaste kiss to the crown of your head. “I love you too, sweetheart.”

Five months pregnant, you didn’t expect to be so horny. You were less queasy, and according to your doctor, “there was an increased amount of blood flow to your genitals.” She had said it was normal to have sex during your second trimester of pregnancy, but no matter how much you tried to convince Jisung to just fuck you he was too convinced that he’d hurt the baby somehow. And your pregnant mind decided to play a fun little game on you called, Let’s Make Y/n Insecure. So as Jisung was at the studio, you watched some sad movies and cried. Of course, it was a common activity you took part in when Jisung was gone, but it was a little different due to your newfound self deprecating thoughts. You were getting bigger and it did not make you feel sexy in any shape or form, and Jisung—someone that was so much of a horndog before your pregnancy that he would jump at the opportunity to get his dick wet at any given point in time—didn’t even want to have sex with you when you asked? It led you to believe that he didn’t think you were pretty anymore. And you ended up asking yourself, what if he was going to other girls at the company to meet his needs? Deep down, you knew he would never do such a thing to you, but you were still young and supposed to be in your prime, and your boyfriend didn’t want you. It freaked you out.

“Sweetheart, I’m home!” Jisung called from the front door, but you didn’t answer, instead, you just shoveled some more ice cream into your mouth as you watched the scene on t.v play out. Jisung frowned, placing the takeout he brought with him on the table. “Baby? You awake?”

His eyes met your form when he walked into your shared bedroom, confusion lacing his gaze. But you didn’t acknowledge him, even when he moved to sit next to you, you just continued to glare at the t.v.

“Baby, look at me,” he said, delicately cupping your cheek, but you jerked your head away. “What did I do wrong, Y/n?”

You sighed, turning to him frustratedly. “Why don’t you want to have sex with me, Jisung? Is it because of my belly? Am I not sexy anymore? Do you want to fuck other girls instead?” You threw questions at him as he stared at you with wide eyes and a gaping mouth. When he remained silent, you turned back to the movie on the screen with glassy eyes, god damn your emotions.

He panicked. “No! No, no, of course not, sweetheart!” He quickly moved to tug you into his arms, placing a soft kiss to your lips. “You’re the only one I want, and the only one I’ll ever want. Sex right now is just…”

“Gross? Weird?” You scoffed.

“Not something I thought we could do.” He confessed with a red face. “Believe it or not I’ve never gotten a girl pregnant before, and I don’t really know what precautions we need to take. The last thing I want to do is hurt either of you.”

You melted into his touch, your feeling of insecurity disappearing. “Sungie, you won’t hurt me or the baby. The doctor had specifically told me that sex was fine, she said it was normal at this point of pregnancy.”

You had to hold back a laugh as his eyes lit up immediately. “Really? It won’t hurt our baby?”

“No, Sungie.” You smiled with a giggle, kissing his lips. “Our baby will be fine.”

Suddenly, Jisung was hoisting you onto his lap with a surprising amount of strength. You could feel just how eager he was through his pants, and it brought you back to the days when you and Jisung were in such a position nearly every day. It was exciting. He groaned low in his throat as you rolled your hips against his hardening member.

“Shit, how could you think that I didn’t want to fuck you, baby? All cute with my baby in your belly.” He sighed, running his hand up your small bump and stopping on your breasts. You moaned; high and whiny due to the sensitivity of your nipples. “And your gorgeous tits.”

“Ji, I missed your hands, baby.” You whined, rubbing your palms over his hard chest.

Jisung hummed, dipping his hands under your sweater to touch your warm skin. “Yeah? You like when I touch you like this, sweetheart?”

“So much.”

“Good,” he said, rutting up against you. “Now move those cute hips for me, baby.”

In your sixth month pregnant, Jisung finally brought you over to the dorm to see the boys—or more importantly, for the boys to see you. You really were glowing; Jisung had never seen someone so beautiful in his life. With your plump belly in all its glory, the boys were ecstatic to finally see you. Jisung had held it off originally because he was nervous of their opinion and didn’t want to put you in that position—of course, he knew they wouldn’t do anything to hurt you or your feelings, but there was always that one doubt that left him hesitant. Of course, he realized how ridiculous he had been the moment you walked through the dorm doors.

Changbin and Chan had immediately tugged you to the couch as carefully as possible—even going as far as offering to carry you. But you denied with a laugh, walking to the couch just fine on your own.

“But thank you, boys.” You had squeezed their hands with a smile and nearly sent them into cardiac arrest.

“Is she only cuter because she’s pregnant?” Minho had whispered. “Is that a thing?”

Jeongin made a noise of discomfort. “I think that’s weird of you to say, Hyung.”

Throughout the evening all of the boys had stepped up to care for you; Changbin had massaged your shoulders as Hyunjin and Felix dutifully moved around the dorm to collect every pillow and blanket in sight to make a little nest around you, and Seungmin and Jeongin conversed with you while Minho and Chan were busy in the kitchen making dinner. It was a bit of a mess, but you wouldn’t have wanted it any other way.

Hyunjin cooed over your baby bump as you ran your hand over it. “So, Y/n, have you decided—”

There was a sudden kick under your palm, causing you to jump with a small surprised “oh” leaving your lips.

The boys surrounding you looked at your stomach with awe, Jisung laughing at their bewildered faces. “It’s like you guys have never seen a pregnant woman before.”

You smiled. “Do you want to feel?”

And there was suddenly seven pairs of hands groping your stomach. It certainly was entertaining to watch them argue over who felt the kick and who was “the baby’s favorite”. They might have all been a little off their rocker, but at least you had your village to help raise your baby.

At seven months you finally decided to come up with names. Jisung expressed several times that it was his favorite part, and he had been looking forward to it for weeks. Of course, the two of you had briefly talked about the gender and names but came to the conclusion that you wanted it to be a surprise and the name thing you’d just deal with later. Well, when you finally went to Jisung to talk about names, you concluded that Jisung’s father would go through the process of finalizing the name—to respect the tradition in their family—and the two of you would pick the name yourselves. Thankfully, Jisung’s parents had been very accepting of everything so far, his mother just excited to see her grandchild and his father proud of his son for stepping up to take care of you properly.

“What about Soo—something? Or Seo? Han Soo-hyuk? Han Soo-hyun? Or just Han Soo-hun?” Jisung rambled, looking at the ceiling as you cuddled into his side. It was late at night, and neither of you could sleep, so it seemed to be a good time to talk about mindless things. “What do you think, baby?”

You hummed. “I like Soo-hyun for a boy, it’s pretty.”

Jisung smiled as he ran his palm against your belly. “And for a girl? Any ideas?”

“Eun-jin is cute. I like Ye-sung too.”

“What about Ji-hyun?”

“Han Ji-hyun.” You smiled, stroking his cheek. “Yeah, I really like that one.”

On your eighth month of pregnancy, your food cravings shifted over to movie cravings. For some strange reason, you had the urge to watch every Disney and Pixar movie you could get your hands on. It was a flashback to childhood for sure, and you’d just spend days watching Disney princesses until Jisung got home and encouraged you to go for a walk with him for some exercise. Jisung himself was convinced it was all in your head and the baby fever was just hitting you extra hard, but he never once complained. He just sat back in bed with you and watched every movie that you put on.

“How about Beauty and the Beast?” You asked, scrolling through the countless amount of movies on the screen.

“Y/n, we literally watched that last week.” Whined Changbin from the foot of the bed, his legs kicking up behind him like a child. “I don’t want to sit through another session of you pointing at the screen and saying, omg that little cup looks just like Jeonginnie!—OW.”

He reeled back away from Hyunjin’s swinging arm. “You’re just upset that she called you Gaston’s tiny sidekick, knowing full well that you are.”

“At least I wasn’t compared to a gay-ass candlestick.”

You giggled as the boys bickered, all of them throwing comments about how their assigned characters were better than the others, even Jisung chimed in how “unfair” it was that Chan got to be the beast and he was stuck being compared to Gaston.

“Well, it’s pretty true, Sungie.” You cooed, stroking his cheek. “Chan’s way more of a prince type.”

Chan winked cheekily at his friend from his place on the floor.

“It doesn’t matter who’s who—” Seungmin started.

“—you can’t say shit, clock-boy—”

“—just pick another movie,” Seungmin said, raising his middle finger towards Changbin.

So you settled on the movie Inside Out, a cute Pixar film with lots of colorful characters that caught your eye. None of you had seen it, so it was an easy decision. But it still hadn’t stopped you from dubbing each boy as a respectable character every five minutes.

“Oh my god,” you gaped as the character that called himself Bing Bong. “Jisung, that is you.”

The room erupted into laughter at your words, Minho even going as far as falling off the end of the bed. Jisung looked at you with an open mouth, in utter shock.

“Him?! The fat pink elephant? You think I look like a fat pink elephant?”

“She’s right! You do look like that guy!” Seungmin snorted through his laugh, falling into Jeongin for support.

“He’s just goofy, baby. It reminds me of you.”

For the majority of the movie after that, Jisung pouted, his head resting against your chest. Your boyfriend really acted like a child at points, and his dynamic personality only made you love him more. So, every time he huffed, you just giggled and ran your fingers through his hair exactly how he liked. But strangely enough, he started to get too committed to the movie to pout, his eyes never leaving the screen as the scenes became more intense.

Especially when the so-called “fat pink elephant” sacrificed himself to save the main character from being forgotten forever. Unfortunately, you were already an emotional wreck, so it didn’t take much for you to break down, but as the sound of sniffles filled the room, you figured the rest of the boys were in the same boat. And the damn Bing Bong guy was like Jisung—the most loyal person you knew, positive even the hardest of times, and too selfless for his own good. The love of your life was more than just self-sacrificing; he’d give everything up for his family.

“Go save Riley!”

The room fell silent for only a second, everyone holding their breath as the inevitable played out. Jisung held you closer with glassy eyes, his cheek unknowingly pressing harder against your breasts. From the corner of your eye, you saw Hyunjin cling to Felix like Velcro, the two holding each other close as they watched the screen. And there was Seungmin and Changbin at the end of the bed, their legs tangled together and their intertwined hands discreetly tucked between them. Chan’s fingers were threaded in Jeongin’s hair as the younger leaned against their leader’s legs, and Minho smiled at the screen softly, his eyes holding something both sad and happy as he watched the movie. You smiled too, tears slowly covering your cheeks.

“Take her to the moon for me, okay?”

You pressed a small kiss to your boyfriend’s forehead as you felt him let out a brief sob against your chest.

For the first time of your pregnancy, you felt comfortable looking around at your crazy little family and thinking, “yeah, your baby was going to be just fine”.

To say that everyone was ready for you to go into labor early would’ve been a complete lie. Everyone was ready for you to go to the hospital on time, so Jisung obviously reacted with a little panic when you announced that your water broke and a rough pain settled in your side. He was quick to your side, his phone already pressed to his ear as he directed you to sit down—whatever fluid that got on the couch be damned. He called his parents, shouting that you were in labor and needed to go to the hospital, so they quickly responded and told him they’d be there in five minutes. So then he called Chan to spit out the news—and the speed that his words left his mouth could’ve competed with the pace of his raps—before hoping his friend had been able to decipher his words and hanging up. Of course, everything afterward went to plan—you were screaming in pain while Jisung held your hand in his while his parents drove you both to the hospital. But you did just as the doctors told you; you pushed and pushed, Jisung still gripped onto your hand, albeit you both looked pale as hell, but you were able to push one last time and see your baby—your baby girl.

“Congratulations mom and dad, it’s a beautiful little girl.”

She was carefully placed in your arms, and god you knew then and there that you would endure another nine months of torture for your daughter in a heartbeat. She was beautiful.

Jisung lifted his palm to caress the small head of your daughter, he had tears shining in his eyes as he looked at his two worlds in front of him. “Baby, look at her. She’s perfect, isn’t she?”

You smiled with heavy eyes. “Our little girl.” Despite all the energy having been zapped out of you and the killer cramps, you couldn’t look away. “She has your eyes, Sungie…”

Jisung felt a tear drop down his cheek as he laughed. “She sure does. And your lips, and Chan’s eyebrows, and Minho’s nose, and Jeongin’s little dimples, and Felix’s cheeks, thank god she doesn’t look like Changbin—oh wait.”

You laughed, resting your head against his. “Our little family.”

“Han Ji-hyun.”

“Yeah,” you smiled, feeling consciousness slowly slip away from you. “I really like that name, Sungie—”

Your eyes then slipped shut, and Jisung frowned, immediately holding your cheek in his hand. “Hey, sweetheart, what—?” But he was interrupted by a low groan that left your lips, your body twisting in a way that suddenly brought panic to the staff in the room. Slowly the heart-rate monitor’s beeping became incessant and rang louder in his ears as the nurses in the room called for a doctor, taking the newborn from your arms. Suddenly, the room was filled with a chaos that Jisung couldn’t keep up with.

“The patient just had a seizure, get her on a breathing tube immediately.”

“Get it down her throat—”

“Is it eclampsia or HELLP syndrome?”

“There’s no time to take the tests, doctor. Her liver has inflamed at a rapid pace.”

“Get magnesium sulfate in her IV now!”

“Baby?” Jisung whispered, tugging your hand into his as nurses attempted to usher him out of the room. “Baby, open your eyes and look at me, please—”

“Sir, we need you to—”

“Tell me what’s wrong with her!”

But they pushed on. “You need to leave the room, sir.”

You cried out as another convulsion wracked through your weak body, and Jisung felt his heart shatter at the sight. His hand reached out to grip your hand, feeling your shaky fingers intertwine with his as you released a whimper. You were looking paler and paler by the second, doctors and nurses rushing around doing things that Jisung could never even guess, but he didn’t care. You were the only thing he had his sights on.

“S-Sungie,” you choked like you were freezing, your lips quivering. “Our baby—where’s my baby? What happened to my baby?” You yelled, pushing violently against the hands of the doctors.

Jisung felt wetness on his cheeks. “Baby, she’s fine. Our baby’s fine, sweetheart.” He lifted your clammy hand to his lips. He was helpless as the nurses attempted to guide him away from you, all he could do was watch as you struggled and fought hysterically. “Come on, Y/n. Please come back to me, sweetheart…”

You shrieked in pain once again as you thrashed in a doctor's hold, nonsense about them taking your baby was spilling from your lips.

“Induce her!”

Jisung’s eyes widened as a nurse pushed past him, quickly injecting something into your IV. It physically hurt him to watch as you slowly fell limp against the hospital bed, your eyes lazily gazing at him.

“Y/n?” His voice was shaking, he knew. “Please baby—”

“Sungie.” You sighed, your fingers twitching in his grip and your head lolling to the side. “You saw her right?”

Jisung nodded, raising your hand to his face, moving your palm to cup his cheek. “She’s beautiful, sweetheart. Our baby is so beautiful.” He smiled.

Your eyelids dropped as you hummed. “Please, Sungie—” You had to peel your eyes back open, looking at the man you fell in love with, with a smile. He had been so good to you, even before you found out that you were carrying his baby. Maybe you were just kids, but you knew you loved him, and you knew he loved you. And there was no doubt in your mind that you wanted to spend the rest of your life with him. Your sweet little girl could become anything she wanted, and you wanted to watch that. Surely with a family like yours, she would thrive in a loving environment, and there would never be a moment where she would be unloved. With your boys there for her—with Jisung there for her, you knew she’d be just fine. You wanted to watch him grow with Stray Kids, while your child grew beside them. Maybe you still could. “Look at me.”

Jisung’s lip wobbled as he looked up from your interlocked fingers. Your hands were too cold.

So you inhaled deeply as unconsciousness slowly took over and waves of nausea pounded against your head. But you pushed through to look at Jisung—the man you knew would give your baby girl a life to be excited to live. “Take her to the moon for me, Sungie.”

Never once did Jisung think he’d be a dad so soon in life. With a pregnant girlfriend that played his songs for their baby to hear and stole his clothes on the daily. But after the initial shock of it all, he grew excited. He was going to start a family with a woman he’d loved, and no matter how much he thought about the consequences, he was the happiest man alive. Granted, he had to take some time to come around to the idea of being a dad at nineteen years old, but he too, grew to love both the woman bearing his child and the baby inside.

At three years old, Han Ji-hyun looked just like her mother. Precious in every way, shape, and form. Stray Kids looked after her like they were her own parents; uncles in the strangest forms. Chan wasn’t afraid to take her to his studio when it was his turn to watch her, because somehow she knew not to make a sound when he was working. Minho stepped in as Ji-hyun’s mother figure—making her meals, cleaning her up, and simply teaching her about the little things in life. Changbin was the most hesitant to find a role in the little girl’s life, but eventually, he became her favorite uncle in terms of how he showed his love. Hyunjin took her everywhere he could go, solely because he knew how much you liked to see places and found the similar trait in Ji-hyun. Felix was her best friend in the world and she was his, and he didn’t care about what anyone thought of their relationship. Seungmin taught her life lessons every child needed to learn, like how to use the bathroom on her own, how to write her name, how to ride a bike, and countless other things. Jeongin—surprisingly enough—acted as her protector; nothing was going to harm Ji-hyun while Jeongin was alive and he swore to that the day she was born. But they’d all give anything for their precious girl.

Just how you did.

Jisung was her father—and an amazing one at that. Ji-hyun was a daddy’s girl from the very beginning, never once wanting to leave his side. He wanted to do exactly what you wished for, because he wasn’t one to hold grudges or muddle over things for too long, and as your last wish of him, there was no way he’d deny the love of his life anything. Ji-hyun was his whole world. And it didn’t hurt to see you every time he looked at her. Jisung was happy to have a part of you with him, and he knew that you would’ve never wanted it any other way. You were so strong, it baffled him. Ji-hyun was just the same.

“Daddy, can you put on mommy’s movie?”

Jisung was caught off-guard when he looked up from his laptop to see his three year old still up and not in bed. It was way past her bedtime and he knew she’d be tired in the morning, but the way she looked at him made him weak. He sighed. “Get in bed.”

Ji-hyun giggled as she climbed onto Jisung’s large bed, nearly being swallowed by all the blankets. Jisung smiled at her excitement, peeling off his jacket and shoes before taking a seat next to her. Immediately, she crawled into his arms, her head resting on his chest.

By the age of three, Ji-hyun knew all the words to Inside Out by heart. It was a movie she associated with her mother and went to it for comfort at times. So did Jisung, if he was being honest.

She pointed at the screen. “There’s mommy.”

Jisung smiled as his daughter pointed towards the blue-haired character—Joy. And he couldn’t help but agree. “There’s mommy.”

Absentmindedly, Jisung toyed with the engagement ring that sat, snug around his ring finger. It was a beautiful ring, one that confused most people that saw it. The ring was in fact, yours. You just never got the chance to see it, since he had kept in his pocket for nine months too long—never able to ask.

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typically-untypical · 3 years

Text

May Flowers - Kalanchoe

AU: Vampire AU

CW: Self Deprecating thoughts

WC: 1065

Date: 5/18/2021

Thirsty in a way water couldn’t satiate. Hungry in a way food would never touch. Patton buried his face in the stuffed animal he had been clinging to since he had gotten home. Vampires were a myth, at least that’s what he had believed, but now his whole world was being rocked, and not in a good way. Patton closed his eyes tight, trying to block out the memory of the attack. He had been walking home, a route he had walked a bunch of times before. It should have been safe. At first he thought it was being mugged, he would have given them his money, but then came the pain, the terror, and then the darkness. He hadn’t expected to wake up after that but when he had he could smell it, blood. There was blood all around him, people walking around with fully operational circulatory systems that pumped blood through their veins, and Patton was hungry.

Shaking his head, Patton went to nibble on his lip trying to get rid of some of the anxious energy. Maybe he was just hallucinating, he was actually in a coma in the hospital after the attack. One of his fangs sunk into the soft flesh of his lip and he whimpered in pain.

This couldn’t be just a dream.

If vampires were real what was he going to do? He didn’t want to possibly hurt one of his friends, honestly, the thought of hurting anyone was more than he could handle. He couldn’t go without blood though, he would starve, or worse, in his hunger, he would hurt someone without regard for their life.

Patton whimpered again, licking at his own blood, far too thick and unsatisfying. The other option was to drink from animals, but that idea was just as unappealing as the first. He couldn’t imagine holding an animal in his arms as he sucked away its life. Maybe he should just… he should give up. Find a way to end it all. He had lived a good life so far.

“Patton, I have heard some distressing sounds in there, are you quite alright?” A voice called from the door.

“I’m fine.” His voice was much too high, but he prayed Logan would believe him. Even if just this once.

His prayers went unanswered. “You are displaying obvious signs of distress, I would like to come in and check on you.”

“Please don’t,” He whined and there was silence from beyond his door. Patton held his breath, realizing that he didn’t necessarily need to breathe, and while that was cool it didn’t help the rising panic that welled inside him. He let out another squeak of fear and surprises.

“Apologies Patton, but we have reached the threshold where my concern outways my care for social constructs.”

Despite Patton’s protests, Logan opened the door, allowing the hallway light to escape into his dark bedroom.

Unwillingly, the kind man let a hiss out of his throat at the new intrusion, hiding behind his stuffie.

“Apologies again,” much quieter now. “Do you have a migraine?”

“No.” Should he tell Logan? He was the smartest of the four who lived together, and he did his best to be kind and understanding, even if it was hard for him. It wouldn’t even be that hard, he just had to blurt it out. But, convincing him it wasn’t a prank would be much harder.

“May I feel your forehead?”

Patton slowly lowered the stuffed toy, watching as Logan put a hand on his head. He was so close, and his blood smelt so good. It would only take one quick movement, vampires had super speed and strength, right? It would just take one easy movement.

“Your forehead is concerningly cold.”

He snapped back into reality, seeing his friend in front of him, not something to devour and he shivered at the thought.

“Let me get a thermometer, we may need to take you to the hospital.” There was worry laced in every word and Patton wanted to cry.

“I know what’s wrong.”

“Really?” Logan sat back down as he looked at Patton expectantly.

“I… You aren’t going to believe me L.”

“Considering the distress on your face, and the fact that you are a terrible actor, I will keep an open mind.”

Patton swallowed. It did nothing for the hunger in his stomach or the lump in his throat. “I… I got turned into a vampire.”

Logan was silent and Patton knew that Logan didn’t believe him.

“He said he wanted me to experience what it was being a monster. He… I’m so hungry, and food isn’t helping, and I just thought about biting you, but you are my friend.” He let out another sad whimper, hiding his face once again.

“Show me your wrist,”

“What?”

“Show me your wrist, I told you I would keep an open mind, and I am trying, so please show me your wrist so that I can check your pulse.

Patton nodded and slowly showed Logan his wrist. He could feel the warm fingers on his pulse point but he was fairly sure he no longer had a pulse.

“Interesting. Let me get Virgil?”

“Why?” Was Logan going to kill him? That wouldn’t be too bad. At least then he wouldn’t hurt anyone.

“As vampires are mythological, or so I thought, I did not spend much time researching them; however, Virgil has an interest in the occult. He will be able to provide us better insight on this predicament.”

“Y..you aren’t just going to kill me?”

“Kill you- Patton, what are you talking about? You are our friend, and I have no desire to murder anyone.”

“But I’m not even human now.”

“That doesn’t change anything. Human, Vampire, or even fairy,” Logan scoffed at the notion, “you are still our friend. The only thing that will change is we will help you figure out what this means for you.”

He brightened at that, just a little bit. “You would do that for me?”

“Of course, and you would do the same for any of us.”

Patton let out a sigh as Logan left the room because if his friends were there by his side he could probably figure this out. Patton might not know how he was going to survive as a vampire, but his friends had his back. He could persist.

@tsshipmonth2020

#sanders sides #sanders side fic #fanfic #patton sanders #logan sanders #May Flowers Fic #Untypical Creations

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midnightskyletters · 3 years

Text

D-4 (or known as the day after)

Dear reader,

If there’s one thing I’ve learnt over the past decade, it’s that you should never be afraid to ask for what you want and deserve, and that if you don’t get it, it’s not the end of the world.

Obviously things yesterday didn’t go as I’d hoped they would. But it’s fine. I’m fine. And that’s all that matters.

My autobiography should be called “So it didn’t go as planned, now what ?”.

I use self deprecation and derision to hide my insecurities and pain, but that’s mostly due to growing with an emotionally unavailable father.

It will always stink saying to someone how you care about them and want it to be more cause you know you’d be perfect for each other, but the other person doesn’t return the love.

In that situation, no one’s to blame. Not me. Not him. No one. Just circumstances and feelings. You can’t control feelings you have or don’t have towards somebody and at the very best, most precious moment, we are still best friends and that’s fine. That’s enough. I’d rather have him in my life than pretend he doesn’t exist or that I’m too hurt and wild to be mature about this.

What you have to know, dear reader, is that I haven’t always been this cool and composed after getting rejected. Never one of those extreme person you see on trash tv, but more like, I did not become an emotional wreck or engaged in self destructive behaviours.

You see, I’ve always had the habit of doing either when this didn’t go my way. Often resulting in me getting more hurt and getting more upset and lost. Except this time I felt I handled this like a pro. And you know what’s that ? Fucking. Growth. And. We. Stan.

Feelings aren’t something you control or have a power on, it’s something that’s in your soul and that is like an entity of its own. Sometimes you don’t realise it’s there until it is. Sometimes it feels like a thousand elephant stomping on your heart. Even better, sometimes it’s just small butterflies making you feel happy. It all depends on the perception you have of it.

For my part, it went from butterflies to elephants to a goldfish who just swims around in circle.

If it wasn’t meant to be then it wasn’t meant to be.

I used to be able to see my future with him and it looked bright and nice. It still does to be fair. But now the lights are dimmed a little and it’s just a glimpse of what could be instead of a whole picture movie.

Some people like to plan their whole lives ahead, it gives them a sense of security and familiarity, whereas I’m more of a free spirit. But that doesn’t mean that I don’t get hurt or annoyed if something happens that’s not part of the plan. Like someone turning down my feelings for them.

Now when I picture my future, it’s not him I see anymore in it. It’s just a shadow standing there, waiting to be told what to do and where to go.

My plan is to fall in love, madly, and just feel like the whole world stopped turning and that time is frozen still. I want to fall in love and visit places and make lots of memories.

One of the dreams/fantasy I have, is being in Paris, renting this cute quaint little apartment in the 5th arrondissement, and waking up early cause I have trouble sleeping. I’d go down to a little cafe down the flat, and I’d sit there reading, overlooking a big market with lots of people coming in to get their daily fresh products. I’d sit there with a coffee on the table, a croissant and a pain au chocolat on a plate next to it. I’d have my sunglasses on cause the sun would be starting to hit the borough’s square, and I’d either be writing on my laptop or reading a book. I’d feel infinite with everybody around, the sounds of road traffic, market merchants and of course, the smell coming from restaurants getting fresh products to cook with and serve that night. Then I’d get a text saying”where are you ? oh you’re down there ? I’ll meet you there in 10mn”, and as he’d walk towards me, it’d be like a movie in slow motion. Taylor Swift - Begin Again is playing and I can feel and hear and smell every single thing from that street, and it’s the most amazing smell in the world. It smells of life (albeit a couple times where fish smelled stronger than my good deed). There I see him. Coming towards me, beautiful as ever, giving me a small kiss on the forehead and then going to get his coffee. And I’m smiling like an idiot.

My other fantasy would be spending Christmas in NYC and go see the big Christmas tree. It’s silly, but Christmas is my favourite day of the year. For me to spend it far away from family would be an achievement on its own, but I would get to share that moment with the one person I want to the most.

Then I open my eyes and I realise that it’s all just daydreaming with eyes closed.

When I came out with how I felt, I wanted to protect myself and run away right this instant. But sometimes you gotta rip the bandaid for the wound to heal more clearer.

Dear readers,

I may not have this man, but I’m still pursuing the man of my dreams. Let’s just hope he exists. So keep your fingers crossed.

#love #lgbt #lghtq+#emo #lovestory #lovestories #taylor #taylorswift #best friends #autobiography #marvel #kpop #queer #gay #lesbian #everybody

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bloody-bee-tea · 4 years

Note

Ahhhhhhh I’m soooo in love with everything you write for the Eldrich Lan AU! We get to see so much soft xicheng and a content Jiang Cheng I luv him SM he deserves all the happiness ;-; I was wondering if you’d ever do a Wangxian one? That would be super cool, I feel like their dynamics would be fun to explore! Either way, I absolutely love your writing! I’m subscribed to you on ao3 and it makes me so excited when I get emails saying you uploaded hehe

Wangji Week 2020 Day 4

Previous part

Wherever the chaos is and Righteousness

Lan Wangji knows his reputation, knows what the people, common folk as well as other cultivators, say about him.

They praise his willingness to be where the chaos is, they admire him for upholding the honour of his sect in such an impressive way. They praise his righteousness, his sense of honour and his fairness.

They call him Hanguang-Jun, Bearer of Light, but Lan Wangji knows what they would call him if they knew what is under his human skin.

He has heard it before; monster, abomination. It wouldn’t be anything new.

Lan Wangji’s own mother has called him that; Lan Xichen believes Lan Wangji was too small to remember, but that is not true. He remembers it. It’s what pushed him to learn control as early as he did; suppressing his form and forming his human skin to the liking of his mother.

The few people who have found out over the years have hurled insults at him, tinged with fear and terror. None of them have survived long enough to tell the tale and spill the secrets of the Gusu Lan Sect.

No one had asked questions when Lan Wangji had killed more Wen cultivators than should have been humanly possible.

It’s how he likes it.

And Lan Wangji was happy to keep it that way, too. But then Wei Wuxian came back and now there is nothing but uncertainty in his heart and mind.

Wei Wuxian is where Lan Wangji always dreamed him to be, right by Lan Wangji’s side, and Wei Wuxian has promised to stay, a teasing tilt to his lips as he tangled his fingers in Lan Wangji’s forehead ribbon that spilled over his back.

And Lan Wangji is unwilling to do anything that could make him leave.

He has already spend so much of his life without Wei Wuxian at his side, and he won’t risk it, not again. Lan Wangji knows that he is partly to blame for that; if he had managed more words, explained his intentions more clearly, then maybe Wei Wuxian would have listened to him, would have let him help.

Instead Lan Wangji remembers the feeling of absolute fear and bone chilling desperation when Wei Wuxian stepped closer to the edge and threw himself off it.

And Lan Wangji does not want to experience those feelings again, ever. So keeping quiet about his true nature, about the secret every Lan carries with them, it’s the only logical option.

And since Wei Wuxian is right by his side, and not questioning anything, Lan Wangji pushes those thoughts away. It’s easy to do when Wei Wuxian demands his attention anyway.

“Lan Zhan,” he hears Wei Wuxian call for him and Lan Wangji puts down the bunny in his arms, because he knows what will happen.

He hears Wei Wuxian approach, he’s not trying to be silent, and a second later he’s hanging off Lan Wangji’s shoulder, pouting over it when he finds Lan Wangji’s arms empty.

“Aww, you’re not holding one,” Wei Wuxian complains. “I wanted to pet one.”

“You jostle me,” Lan Wangji explains and gently shrugs Wei Wuxian off.

He doesn’t want to put the distance between them, but he does want to wipe the pout and small frown from Wei Wuxian’s face, so picking up one of the calmer bunnies is the only option he has here.

Wei Wuxian immediately reaches out to pet it when Lan Wangji offers it to him, but he doesn’t take it from his arms. They have learned that while the bunnies will allow Wei Wuxian to pet them when Lan Wangji is close, they will not stay still when Wei Wuxian is the one who holds them.

“They still only love you,” Wei Wuxian complains and Lan Wangji allows himself a small smile.

They do love him, and they have been a constant source of comfort in some of his darker days.

“I am still amazed that something so fluffy and small adores something like you,” Wei Wuxian offhandedly says, still concentrated on the bunny in Lan Wangji’s arms, so he doesn’t notice how Lan Wangji freezes up.

“What?” he forces himself to whisper and his heart beats painfully in his chest when Wei Wuxian gives him a look, a mix between a smile and a frown, showing his confusion at Lan Wangji’s reaction.

“What?” Wei Wuxian repeats, seemingly unaware of what he just said, and while Lan Wangji wishes he could be as oblivious, he can’t.

This isn’t just about him. It’s about his sect and the people he loves, too.

“What did you say?” he brings out and Wei Wuxian tilts his head in thought before he brightens up.

“Oh, I mean. I know it’s supposed to be a secret, and it’s not like I really know what you are, but, yeah. I know you’re not human. I thought I mentioned it before.”

“Wei Ying did not,” Lan Wangji mutters and carefully puts the bunny down again, stepping away from them, and from Wei Wuxian.

He’s shaking from head to toe, and it’s hard for him to keep his form in check. He always loses control when he gets emotional. It’s still a wonder he didn’t change when Wei Wuxian died, though Lan Wangji guesses it was pure shock that kept him human.

He doesn’t feel the same kind of shock now, so he stands up straight and tries to calm his mind.

“Lan Zhan, what’s wrong? You’re bunnies are all agitated,” Wei Wuxian says as he eyes the bunnies, who do seem more nervous than they normally do.

They flock to Lan Wangji, press against his legs, and Lan Wangji tries to concentrate on that.

His mind is still screaming at him, mostly questions—how did Wei Wuxian find out, what will he do with this knowledge, did he tell someone, when will he leave—and the horrible thought that he didn’t even get to enjoy Wei Wuxian’s company for a whole month.

Maybe his family really is doomed for tragic love stories.

“How long?” Lan Wangji asks, though he’s aware that is not the most important question.

He can’t bring himself to ask the most important ones. Do you hate me? Are you afraid of me? Disgusted? He’s not sure he can stand the answer.

“I—,” Wei Wuxian starts and instinctively reaches for Chenqing for comfort. “Since the Burial Mounds,” he finally admits with a self-deprecating smile. “Your energy, it’s closer to what I use in demonic cultivation than to those of humans. At first I thought it was just you, that I had somehow tainted you, but then I met Lan Xichen and other cultivators from your sect and I realized it isn’t just you.”

That’s a horribly long time.

“Who—,” Lan Wangji starts and then has to clear his throat, the fear and worry making him too emotional, “who did you tell?”

“Tell?” Wei Wuxian asks and he seems honestly affronted. “No one of course, Lan Zhan, I wouldn’t. And besides, who would even believe me?”

“Oh,” Lan Wangji gives back at that. “You know you don’t have to stay, right?” he then haltingly adds, because what if Wei Wuxian is just staying here out of fear?

Thinks he’s not allowed to leave, even though that’s all he wants to do.

“Ah, Lan Zhan,” Wei Wuxian says with a small chuckle and that sound does more to relax Lan Wangji than all his mental exercises in the last few minutes have managed. “I’m staying because I want to stay.”

Lan Wangji can hardly believe it—why would he want to stay if he knows Lan Wangji isn’t human—but every time Wei Wuxian reaches out for him, touches him without hesitation, is downright clinging to him, tells Lan Wangji that Wei Wuxian is here on his own free will.

“I never want to leave you, Lan Zhan, you have to know that.”

Lan Wangji shakes his head, because he didn’t know that, especially not with the recent revelation and Wei Wuxian bounds over, careful to not step on the bunnies that are still huddled close to Lan Wangji, but seem to be calming down.

“No matter what you are, you’re still my Lan Zhan. You’re still so good, how could you be anything else?”

Lan Wangji’s heart lights up at hearing that, the casual possessiveness in Wei Wuxian’s words, but he still stumbles over the start of that sentence.

“No matter what I am? Does Wei Ying not know?”

“No,” Wei Wuxian says with a shrug. “I just know that your energy is different. For all I know you could be a fluffy little cloud. It would explain why the bunnies love you so.”

Lan Wangji blinks at him, because that couldn’t be further from the truth.

“Not a cloud,” he denies.

“But cute and fluffy?” Wei Wuxian teases and Lan Wangji relaxes further.

“Not cute and fluffy, either,” he gives back and Wei Wuxian heaves out a deep sigh.

“Oh no, Lan Zhan, then my imagination is all used up,” he pouts and throws his arms around Lan Wangji’s neck, presses himself close. “Maybe you have to show me?”

“Shameless,” Lan Wangji says and tries desperately to not throw his arms around Wei Wuxian in return, because he isn’t sure he could ever let him go again.

“My form—its not nice to look at,” he finally admits and Wei Wuxian shakes his head.

“Impossible. Lan Zhan is always nice to look at,” Wei Wuxian gives back, with a confidence Lan Wangji can only hope to possess and then he forgets to breathe when Wei Wuxian noses at his cheek. “Won’t you show me, my Lan Zhan?”

Lan Wangji’s thoughts are flying through his head; there are still a lot of variables to consider, and Wei Wuxian could still walk away from him when he sees what Lan Wangji really looks like, but then Wei Wuxian gives him his best puppy eyes and Lan Wangji is helpless against that.

“Step back,” he instructs Wei Wuxian who does so with apparent glee as he bounces on the balls of his feet.

Lan Wangji takes one last look at Wei Wuxian’s beautiful, radiant face, because maybe it’s the last time he gets to see it like that, and then he allows his true form to take over. The bunnies barely blink an eye at his transformation, they are used to it by now, but Wei Wuxian’s eyes get bigger and bigger in his head.

Lan Wangji doesn’t open all his eyes, keeps most of them hidden, and he keeps his tentacles close to his body as well, trying to appear as unthreatening as he can in this form. He doesn’t think about the imperfections that mar him.

“Lan Zhan,” Wei Wuxian breathes out and Lan Wangji prepares for the worst.

“You’re so gorgeous,” Wei Wuxian says, voice awed and at his words Lan Wangji’s entire form kind of melts.

“Look at all those tentacles,” Wei Wuxian calls out in clear delight and he fearlessly steps closer and immediately reaches out for one.

Lan Wangji can’t help but to meet him halfway, slides his tentacle up his arm and around his back to bring him close, and Lan Wangji didn’t know touching a human could feel like this.

It’s electrifying and relaxing all at once, but mostly it feels a lot like coming home. Lan Wangji cannot explain it at all.

A few of his eyes must have opened in shock as well, because Wei Wuxian gasps.

“So pretty,” he croons and pets Lan Wangji right under one of his eyes. “Still your beautiful eye colour.”

Right now, Lan Wangji is glad to be in this form, because at least here his ears can’t turn a bright red.

“Ah, you’ve been holding out on me,” Wei Wuxian complains as he steps right up to the mass centre of Lan Wangji. “How could you deny me of this?”

Lan Wangji is ashamed to find that the only answer he has to that is fear, and he hopes that he never has to tell Wei Wuxian that. He didn’t trust him, again.

“Ah, I see,” Wei Wuxian says and reassuringly pets the closest one of Lan Wangji’s tentacles. “You don’t have to be afraid,” Wei Wuxian tells him and Lan Wangji can’t help the inquiring noise he makes.

No one should understand him in this form.

“You’re not as hard to read as you think,” Wei Wuxian whispers conspiringly to him and then just lets himself fall into the middle of Lan Wangji, who immediately wraps him up in protective tentacles.

“This must be what heaven feels like,” Wei Wuxian mutters and then snuggles deeper into the embrace. “I love you, Lan Zhan.”

The shock of hearing those words, from Wei Wuxian, uttered to Lan Wangji in his true form, is enough to shock him back into human form.

“Noooo,” Wei Wuxian whines and slings his arms around Lan Wangji’s middle. “I wasn’t done cuddling.”

“Did you mean it?” Lan Wangji demands to know, and he’s sure that if he doesn’t get an answer immediately, he’s going to combust on the spot.

“Did I mean what?” Wei Wuxian asks, playfully blinking up at Lan Wangji.

“Wei Ying,” he scolds him and he can feel Wei Wuxian shudder against him.

“Of course I meant it, Lan Zhan. How could I not? I love you. Don’t you love me, too?”

Lan Wangji blinks a few times at that, his heart beating so fast in his chest and the relief making him light-headed, and he bends his neck down and hides his face in Wei Wuxian’s hair until he finds his voice again.

“I love you, too, Wei Ying,” he whispers and is rewarded with his favourite sound on the entire planet when Wei Wuxian laughs, happy and loud.

“Would have been embarrassing if you didn’t,” he whispers and then leans up on his tip-toes, his intent clear.

Lan Wangji has wanted to do this for so long, that the sheer prospect of finally getting to do it freezes him on the spot, but then Wei Wuxian’s lips are on his and there is no more hesitation.

Separating again is hard when Wei Wuxian darts in for little kisses and pecks again and again, and Lan Wangji is loathe to let go of him, so he simply doesn’t.

“You’re not afraid,” Lan Wangji can’t help but whisper eventually, because that knowledge is still blowing his mind a little bit, and Wei Wuxian laughs again.

“Not at all. You’re all mine and so pretty. How could I be afraid of you.”

The words are a balm for Lan Wangji’s soul and he buries his face in Wei Wuxian’s neck, breathing in deep and just revelling in the fact that he gets to have this at all.

He never dared to hope for this, but then again, Wei Wuxian always exceeds expectations. And Lan Wangji couldn’t be happier about it.

Next Part

#bt writes #the untamed #wangxian #mdzs #wangjiweek2020 #eldritch!lan #eldritch!lwj #the secret comes out #getting together #love confessions #first kiss #bunnies #they love their eldritch dad #anon #Anonymous

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comic-brew · 4 years

Text

Pieces

@whumptober2020 days n.4 Running out of time: Buried Alive and n.5 Falling (alt prompt)

Summary: The wet soil doesn’t end, it engulfs him in its cold embrace and doesn’t let him go, no matter how wildly he struggles against the earthly tendrils wrapped securely around his limbs and torso.

Notes: shitty au where basically TV Titans Jason has flashbacks of his comic-life, even though he technically haven’t lived any of them yet. How much this story progresses depends on if I’ll write a second ch. Beware of 2 different writing styles cause I started this way too long ago.

Reading time: 35 mins (4.4k)

Warnings: whump, panic attacks, being buried alive, self deprecating thoughts, angst, oxygen deprivation, PTSD (?), vertigo, falling, perhaps sth else I missed??

or read here on ao3!

ps. reblogs and feedback bring the author great joy uwu

***

“Hey, Jason” Gar greets after knocking and opening the door to Jason’s room just enough to peer his head through.

“How’re you doing?”

The boy waits but Jason doesn’t reply. He’s simply staring out his window, arms falling limply at his side, barely even registering the new presence in the room. Garfield bites his lip and invites himself inside and by Jason’s side. He glances at the boy’s rapidly moving, but hollow eyes, then at the view of the sky they’re aiming at.

“Are you still with us, buddy?” he asks.

He hesitantly runs a hand up and down in front of Jason’s distant gaze and that seems to do the trick.

Jason blinks, then shakes his head to rid himself of whatever thought he was so unnervingly engrosed into. Turning to face the green haired boy, he assumes the most carefree expression he can muster, forcing a halflit smile in a futile attempt to compose himself.

“Yeah, was just.. thinking” he assures, his eyes holding no emotion.

“ ‘Course… You sure you’re okay?” Gar presses, making little effort to conceal the incredulous frown his eyebrows are drawn into.

Jason shifts in his place while his hands clench and unclench, in an attempt to calm his discomfort and aggravation at Gar’s question, because he knows his teammate’s just asking out of honest concern. It’s not his fault Jason hasn’t slept in days and isn’t used to people checking up on him.

“I’m fine, dude, seriously.” Jason insists and Garfield knows better than to further inquire him “Now, did you want something?”

Fuck. Jason almost winces at how aggressive his words have come out. Gar blinks, opening his mouth to say something. Before his thoughts can materialize on the tip on his tongue, he seems to rethink what he wanted to say. That delay of course doesn’t go unnoticed by Jason.

God..Why does he always mess everything up?

As Gar’s about to speak again, the new Robin raises a hand to the green haired boy’s chest, stopping any word before it can reach his ears. “Look, I’m sorry. I’m just tired and I’m taking it out on you.” he huffs a bitter laugh “You don’t deserve me being an ass to you too.”

The boy’s brown eyes light up with understanding and relief and his tense shoulders physically relax at the confession. “Hey, it’s cool man. I get it.” he acknowledges, smiling politely and squeezing Jason’s shoulder.

Surprisingly, he doesn’t recoil from the touch, instead reciprocating Gar’s reassuring smile with an exhausted, but genuine and lighthearted smirk.

They both remain in that position for several split seconds, until Garfield finally retracts his hand to clasp his palms together as it dawns on him that he still hasn’t told his teammate the news he came to deliver.

“Actually I did come to tell you something” he announces, grinning widely and slightly fidgeting with his fingers “Rachel and I were thinking of watching a movie, you’re welcome to join us. You know, if you feel up to it.”

Jason takes a spare second to ponder and process Gar’s proposition. He steals a glance at the translucent glass of the window, separating his world from the towering skyscrapers and showering his neatly made bed in the soft gleam of the afternoon.

It would surely be better than staying there alone, falling into the inky depths of his eternal abyss.

Turning to face the boy whose eyes scour him expectantly for any indication of his intentions, he relents with a rather forced shrug.

“Uh, sure, I guess.” Jason says.

Gar’s face lights up and pulls into a joyous grin. “Cool… cool.”

He awkwardly shoves his hands into the pockets of his pants and starts heading towards the door, stopping midway to listen to Jason calling out after him.

“I’ll be there in a sec.”

The green haired boy simply nods and subtly waves his hand goodbye, before he disappears into the hallway.

***

When Jason steps foot into one of the spacious living areas Titans Tower houses, there are three heads turning at the soft sound of his approaching footsteps where he expected to be greeted by two. The platinum curls flowing gracefully with the motion can only belong to one person. Well, at least one person they know.

“Rose” he sighs. “Didn’t expect you to come”

“Didn’t expect to come either” she counters, the corners of her lips twitching upwards in amusement, “But I guess this could be fun after all”

She is comfortably perched on a lovely armchair covered by smooth, pearl fabric, facing the flank of a matching couch. One knee bent and placed securely under her body, the side of her head is doused in the last dull afternoon light seeping into the room through the daffodil curtains keeping the golden sunset rays at bay. Rachel is regarding Jason with a mellow smile, sitting cross legged on the far end of the couch neighbouring Rose’s armchair and Garfield has already started fumbling with a rather ancient DVD player.

It’s a wonder how this thing still exists in a building where interactive holograms are a norm. But then again it wouldn’t be the oddest thing about this place.

“Well,” Gar begins, slightly groaning when the DVD port spitefully refuses to close, “We’re both glad you did join us. Now, take a seat ladies and gentlemen!” he announces with fervor when he finally manages to slam the port close, and gestures towards the unoccupied cushions next to the purple haired girl.

Jason takes the invitation gladly and flops down on the other end of the couch, closer to the hall he was in just a few seconds ago.

“What are we watching?” Jason asks.

Rachel turns her focus to him then, leaning her back on the couch and clutching a decorative pillow to her abdomen. “Gar found this, and I quote, 'apocalyptic masterpiece of censorship’ and insisted we had to watch it.” she grins, rolling her eyes at reciting her friend’s words.

Jason and Rose both snort at that as Garfield reaches the couch in a few quick strides. “Seriously guys, I have only ever heard about this movie from some pretty questionable sources.” he says giddily before sobering up again, clearly fussing over his discovery.

“We’re literally staring an urban legend in the face, guys!”

“Yeah, not like you hang out with the Titans or whatever” Jason quips. Seriously, how can a movie be more exciting than fighting crime alongside heroes? Than being a hero?

“Good point, bro. Good point”

Jason shoulders stiffen at the nickname, but only for a briefly awkward moment which Gar is more than eager to fill with more (unnecessary) information.

“Well, according to those guys the movie was banned shortly after its release and all copies were revoked and ultimately destroyed.”

“Clearly not all copies” Rachel muses before asking why the movie was banned in the first place. Gar mumbles something about it addressing some extremely controversial topics and offending some powerful douchbag before making his way to the middle cushion.

Rachel scoots over without even untangling her legs to make more room for him to sit.

Rose simply raises an eyebrow.

“Where the hell did you even hear about this stuff in the first place?”

Gar suddenly goes stills in his place on the couch. He runs a hand through his messy strands of hair before reluctantly providing an answer. “Uh… Tumblr?” he says while grinning awkwardly.

Rachel nods her head back slack-jawed, brows shooting up in a terrible attempt at showing understanding. Gar frowns as he then glances at Jason who’s staring at him with wide disbelieving eyes, the sound of Rose dramatically smacking her own face enhancing the atmosphere.

“It’s not that surprising guys, come on!” Gar protests, an exasperated sigh emanating from his lips.

At that, the three of them exchange deadpan looks before bursting out laughing. The laughter soon subsides into small giggles and high pitched breaths as the green haired boy smiles with content and leans above the mahogany coffee table to grab the tv remote.

“Well, friends, brace yourselves, for the most epic zombie movie to barely exist” he says, smirking as he plops back down on the leathern cushions.

On the screen, their reflections have given their place to the lean figure of a boy of asian descent in his 16s walking alongside a girl with dark complexion and luscious, auburn hair. A gentle, velvety voice surrounds them from the speakers and integrates them in the world the film is set in.

Time flows pleasantly as the story progresses with no interruption aside from a few enthusiastic inputs from a beaming Garfield.

The rest of the Titans are all gathered together in some other part of the Tower, once again excluding them from whatever plans they might be conjuring.

Because that went so well last time, Jason unwittingly ponders, quick to dismiss the thoughts lest those dreadfully fresh memories resurface.

But perhaps it’s already too late to whisk them away.

Jason gets up out of the blue, eliciting an inquisitive glare from the rest of the kids.

“I’ll just.. go grab some popcorn” he states vacantly, pointing at the hallway with his thumb without breaking eye contact. Truth is he needs a minute to recover from the intrusion of sensations he’d rather forget.

Plus, popcorn sounds nice.

“We can pause the film if you want” Rachel’s soft voice prompts, wording what has likely been dancing around the others’ minds as well.

“Nah, it’s cool. It won’t take long. I’m not going all the way to the Antarctica and back or whatever” he replies, fighting the nagging urge to roll his eyes and let the poison drip onto his voice. The kids nod and in a moment’s notice he’s gone.

Right foot.

Left foot.

Right foot.

Keeping up his pace feels abysmally hard. His head is reeling and his senses are swimming all around the place, reality feels like a fuzzy blanket draped over a newborn’s skin. Jason takes a few more carefully calculated steps before he stumbles on thin air. Careening into the wall he leans against the slick concrete on his flank until the world stops shifting enough for him to continue.

Somehow Jason makes it to the kitchen. He fumbles with the drawers, opening and closing them jerkily.

In just a few seconds the falling has progressed to the point where he can barely stand. He doesn’t think it’s ever been this bad the previous times.

Everything is spinning around. And when it all shifts upside down he’s falling from the marble to the ceiling, and when his skin and the asbestos are inches from colliding, the world tilts again like an hourglass that’s ran out of sand.

Just like that his descend is reset. Over and over.

He finds the popcorn bag in the last one and grabs it hastily. Only after the third attempt, the previous two ending shamefully with his clasp clutching piteously at empty air.

Dropping it of on the countertop it’s more muscle memory than will that redirects him to the sink. His fingers grip the knob, turning the water lukewarm, but as he lets it puddle on his palms he can’t feel it any clearer than a breath of a ghost on the back of his neck.

Jason splashes the water on his face but it ends up mostly on his clothes and on the ground. Gravity works funny when you have no sense of it.

His hands latch onto the edge of the sink and cling for dear life. The ledge, hold on to the ledge. His eyes open wide, they soak up the terror of the height. The terror of death.

The eerie reassurance of death.

The smog dissipates faster this time. But with it the distressing thought that it’s getting worse, that he’s getting worse, finds the chance settle in his gut.

Jason can’t do this anymore.

But he’s already been gone for a conspicuously large amount of time, and the thought of having to explain his reoccurring day-mares can’t even be entertained by his mind. So that makes a problem for another day.

The popcorn is ready in only a few minutes. Jason holds on to the sink for a couple more moments, taking deep breaths in and out, until his heart has stopped beating frenzied.

If they ask, he can always say he had trouble with the 'corn.

He can always say.

“Okay” he breathes out, closing his eyes as he informs nobody in particular.

“Okay I’m ready”

With that Jason grabs the bowl filled to the brim with the snack and disappears out the door. The journey from the kitchen to the smaller living area is nothing compared to the odyssey he went through following his departure from the lounge.

Once he sets foot back inside all heads turn towards him.

“What did I miss?” he asks, ever so cheerfully as he strides closer to the small den of couches.

One of them starts speaking, no doubt filling him in on the events that happened while he wasn’t watching. Whoever it is, Jason can’t concentrate on their voice enough to tell it apart.

On the screen, the boy is desperately gasping for air as he’s emerging from a moonlit grave.

The world spins out of focus, and before any of them know it the bowl has slipped through Jason’s limb fingers.

It has slipped, and it is falling.

***

The splintered wood pricks and stabs the sensitive skin beneath his shattered fingernails and the blood is threatening to leave his hands and drip onto his glacial cold face. His fingers hurt, they weren’t made as a shovel, they weren’t made to be penetrating wood, but they are doing exactly that, and he can’t acknowledge the piercing, burning throbs that travel through his veins to set the rest of his body aflame, because his lungs are burning, they’re flaring up more and more with every broken attempt at filling them up with air-

He has to dig, he has to keep going-

The last layer of polished wood finally relents, small pieces of it falling onto his raggedly, but once expensive, dandy suit. Blood is mixed with sweat on his palms, accelerating the speed with which it runs along his hands, tickling him while he scrambles for a breath of fresh air that never comes.

“N..o…” he croaks out and speaking is hard, his throat feels as the ash coated land left behind the passage of lava, and now he needs to cough, and he needs to breathe but there’s no air coming in, and frankly, he can’t decide whether it’s from the panic that has overcome him or because there simply isn’t enough oxygen in the cramped space he’s trapped in.

It’s not some prank

As if on cue the ground above him slightly shakes as the mud repositions and soil seeps through the open slit of the-

Of the coffin.

I’m buried alive…. I… I…, he realizes, ever so frantically.

And so his thoughts begin to plague him, the next one banging and clawing at the door of his mind before the previous has had the time to be stated, he’s hyperventilating and fairly so, he’s buried underneath 6 feet of soil-

Stop it Jason, get ahold of yourself. You made it this far because you never gave up, you won’t give up now either, a part of himself with a semblance of sanity left scolds him and orders his bloody hands to move, they grip the edge of the broken pine casket and pull with all their might.

The wooden seal cracks and Jason makes a supernatural effort to set it aside as it holds the weight of 6 feet of soil, his atrophied muscles protest by threatening to give out but it’s sheer determination that gets him to move on, he has to make it, he can’t die in there, he can’t leave, can’t leave his family.

Mud now openly drowns him from the huge whole in the lid of the casket, devouring every corner, sticking to every inch of skin and fabric.

He’s still gasping for air, his lungs and throat feel ready to burst and he’s dizzy, everything is spinning, but on the other hand 'everything’ is nothing more but a muddy grave and he’s still inside.

Almost frantically his injured fingers reach for the source of the soil. With jerky movements and all the strength he can muster he forces his hands through the earth. The stiff mud swallows him whole, lets the worms and maggots get tangled in his long strands of hair. Jason keeps his eyes and mouth stubbornly shut as he desperately struggles to propel his flimsy frame through the endless layers of ground.

He can faintly feel the darkness creeping in the corner of his mind, promising relief, promising safety. Those whispers sound tempting to his weak, grazed arms, to his blazing lungs-

The whispers don’t know that it’s not written in his DNA to yield.

His arms hastily swim through the wet mass that’s holding him beneath the surface, he can feel the dirt in his hair, in his ears, in his shirt, his pants, his everything. Maggots and caterpillars are crawling on his convulsed features. His heart is throbbing unnaturally loud, he can hear the thumping in his ears as his marred hands push and dig with painstaking effort.

Better hurry little robin! It ain’t fun if you die now, amiright boy blunder? HahaHA!

He’s digging, he’s trying, dyeing the earth crimson with his blood, please-

The wet soil doesn’t end, it engulfs him in its cold embrace and doesn’t let him go, no matter how wildly he struggles against the earthly tendrils wrapped securely around his limbs and torso.

He’s desperately gasping for a breath, just one breath to keep going, he’s coughing up phlegm and bile while his chest writhes and burns. He can’t help his mouth gaping in a last-gasp search for oxygen but the only thing entering his mouth and traveling towards his pricking trachea is dirt and rocks and… and…

…a feather?

A feather. He can feel it with his tongue, he can taste its sourness and almost hear a soft crunch under his teeth.

A feather. Robin.

He’s Robin, and Robin doesn’t die alone in an empty grave.

Robin fights. Robin protects. Robin wins.

With renewed resoluteness he forges ahead, his hand reaches where he supposes skyward is one more time.

This time, it’s met with the comfort of soft raindrops and the gentle wind blowing against his numb fingertips.

***

“-on? Jason!” Rachel calls at the sound of the metal bowl clattering to the ground, slipping right through the boy’s fingers and letting the freshly baked popcorn scatter all over the marble floor.

The girl exchanges a worried glance with Gar, before Rose gets up and marches furiously towards an exasperatingly unresponsive Robin, the popcorn crunching beneath her feet. She comes to a halt a few inches away from Jason’s hollow eyes and slaps him hard across the cheek.

The other two begin to protest loudly but Rose barely pays them any mind. She watches with pursed lips as Jason’s cloudy eyes regain focus and his hand shoots up to the skin gradually assuming the oh-so-wonderful shade of radish.

“Ow.. what the fuck?” Jason frowns at her while cautiously rubbing his cheek with his right hand. There’s no blood on his fingers, no mud on his skin. He can breathe.

Rose ignores his baffled query and simply turns to the two teens watching the whole scene play out from the safety of the cushions. She beams triumphantly as she announces smugly, “See? It worked.”

Jason, visibly annoyed by his incompetence to understand what the hell is happening traps her wrist in a vice like grip and tugs, forcing her to face him. She squints viciously at the gesture although she effortlessly pulls her hand free.

“Why the fuck did you slap me?”

The girl opens her mouth to respond, putting together a not so composed reply in her head -to put it mildly-, so it’s probably for the best when Rachel interrupts her train of thought.

“What happened, Jason? You completely zoned out”.

“Yeah, dude. What the hell was that all about?” Gar chimes in, nodding at the pile of popcorn by Robin’s feet and at the discarded bowl that has slid all the way to the edge of the couch he and Rachel are perched on.

“Wha..” Jason regards the strewn snacks with a quizzical look, as if he’s waiting for them to answer why they’re spread out all over the floor. Oddly enough, they don’t.

He fixes his still hazy gaze on his calloused hands next, his confusion manifesting in the form of furrowed brow.

He- he was-

no. He was never there. Always here.

His inviolate fingers are proof enough of that. But then.. is he losing his mind? Just like old Bertha, the old lady running around the theater, screaming that she had been kidnapped and experimented on by flying giraffes…. Not that it’s impossible with everything he’s witnessed the past year.

No, that can’t be it. He’s still shaken up from the fall right? It’s logical that he’s hallucinating about graves, he was seconds from ending up in one just a few days ago. It will go away right?

It will, it has to.

They can’t know, the street kid inside of him insists, they’ll throw you away like a broken toy. Broken..

“Jason, talk to us. What’s wrong?” Rachel is still staring at him, they all are. Her voice is laced with pity, they’re sorry for him. They’re pitying him, the bird that broke its wing and they know that now can’t survive on its own.

“What’s wrong with me?!” His head snaps to where her voice is coming from and the girl flinches at the bite behind his words.

“I didn’t mean- I meant you should perhaps tell Dick about it, he might be able to help” she stutters, her face bearing a deer in the headlights expression. Her gaze briefly meets with Garfield’s, perhaps to seek some backup. Somehow that angers Jason even more.

“Tell Dick? Really?” he snorts, “How about we tell Dick about that time you almost fucking choked me, maybe he could help!” he gasps mockingly. He is shouting now and the girl seems taken aback by the progression of his anger, gawking at him with a hint of sorrow tainting the indigo of her irises.

Gar stands up from his seat and approaches him, getting in the way of him and a Rachel fumbling for the right response to Jason’s accusation. The green haired boy extends his hand almost cautiously, it’s a simple gesture meaning nothing else than stop. It’s common sense, he knows he is going too far again but Jason’s common sense has jumped out the window. To him, they’re treating him like a wounded animal.

Perhaps he’s just projecting how cornered he feels.

“Dude, that’s enough”

“I’m sorry to break this to you, ” he points a finger accusingly at Rachel, “but Dick can’t fix everything like some kind of god you’ve made him out to be”

“Buddy-”

“He can’t fix you and your fucking razor blade tornado or whatever…” he keeps holding Rachel’s bleak glare gesturing wildly with his fingers and ignoring Garfield’s feeble attempts at making him stop.

“…and he can’t fix this” Jason concludes by pointing miserably at his head, then the rest of his body, until his hand drops limp at his side in resignation. His newfound rage has dissipated into downright bitterness.

At the far back the movie is still playing, forgotten. In the faint comforting light of the screen the girl with the auburn hair is kneeling in front of a stone cold body, burrowing her face in chestnut locks that would never grow any longer, as her shoulders heave sharply with every wreaked sob.

Grieving. Jason can still feel the three pairs of eyes -one consisting of one blue and an eyepatch- burning holes into the glimmers of tears stubbornly refusing to be spilt from his, even as he averts his stare.

There’s a deep pause after the abrupt revelation and the four kids are encompassed in a veil of tense silence no one seems willing to break.

Rose -who seemed rather amused when the yelling had started- is now solemnly inspecting the intricate patterns on the sheer curtains tucked to the side of the plate-glass window. Garfield is standing with his arms crossed protectively around his torso. Rachel has ceased to stare wide eyed like a freshly caught fish, however she’s keeping her arms close to her body and shifting awkwardly in her place. Her expression remains grim and her eyes dim, bearing an eerily sorrowful glint.

She puts her head down and eventually flies out of the room without another word. Consumed either by irritation or even guilt, if Jason has to guess. Gar spares no more than a defeated glance at her departure, otherwise maintaining his position by the abruptly deserted couch. He simply reaches for the tv remote, cutting off image and sound amidst a heated argument between the two leads. Damn this movie.

Deathstroke’s daughter looks between the two boys expectantly for half a second. None of them pays her any mind, too busy staring at the suddenly immensely intriguing floor.

“Nevermind, I’m out of here” she mutters through gritted teeth before getting down from atop the loveseat she had claimed and heading towards her own room.

Jason stares blankly at the scattered popcorn, but it provides no answer to the million questions dancing around in his mind.

Frankly, he didn’t expect it to.

Gosh. He’s so messed up.

Gar offers to help him clean up. He refuses. Perhaps Jason pushes him away just like everyone else. He’s got his own mess to clean up, first literally.

The metaphorical one might have just stained too deeply to remedy.

The night finds him placing the broom back in it’s place in the supply closet and sitting alone in pitch darkness.

Thinking of a grave that doesn’t belong to him, it never did, but it has his name on it. Thinking of the memories he shouldn’t have, piecing together how his heart only knows more fragments have been prodding at him, more broken pieces he doesn’t know where they fit.

The night finds him sitting alone in pitch darkness. Shivering, shaking with quiet tears.

Knowing he’d be undisturbed, alone, in the grave he’s built for himself.

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jadethest0ne · 4 years

Text

When the Moon meets the Morning, Chapter 1 - Fire under the Blood Moon

Summary: Raphael is going on missions with Captain Jupiter as he always does when he meets an orange-wearing turtle yokai who feels oddly familiar.

Word Count: 2154

Ratings/Warnings: General Audiences; some minor harrowing moments, but mostly fluff, emotional overload, emotional manipulation, self-deprecation

Notes: A longer chapter this time! This was the first thing I wrote for this story. I do enjoy starting out with some action! Big thanks to @undercoverwizardninjaturtle, @fraymotiif, and @frasierverse for helping me workshop this.

Read on AO3 For the RotTMNT Fantasy AU

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The thing about the Unforgiving North was that despite its reputation for being an icy snowscape it wasn't always cold and unforgiving. Sure the summers were maybe only a few weeks long and their spring was just an extended period of slush and snowmelt, but there was a time in the fall where the temperature was okay and not everything was covered in snow. Unfortunately, it was also a time where there was barely any rain either, and all the dry, dead leaves made all too good kindling for causing forest fires, much like the one that Raph had found himself in the middle of combating at the moment.

James Jupiter, the famed heroic bounty hunter, had gotten the call that the nearby forest had caught on fire due to some folks using mushroom fires irresponsibly. It was threatening the neighboring town of Bedu, as well as a group of small woodcutter huts and cabins that were within the forest's borders. As usual it was up to Captain Jupiter, his trusty sidekick Red Fox, and his protege, Raphael the “Red Angel of Preventing Harm” to save the day. Or the night rather.

Raph can feel his power swelling with the rise of the moon as he forms large red projections of his arms down a path among the trees blocking the flames to allow a family from one of the huts to pass through. Raph hears some screams behind him. He sees the Captain at the edge of the forest patiently directing everyone to safety with a confident smirk. The entire night he had been there greeting everyone that Raphael and Red Fox had brought out of the flames and giving them a strong guiding hand, letting them know that everything is going to be okay. Raph thinks wistfully for a moment what it must be like to have that confidence. He could use some of that right about now. He waits until he sees the family make it past the flames to dispel his corporeal magic into a smaller shield around himself. The heat is strong and he wishes he doesn't have his heavy cloak on him, but his shielding spell is at least enough to keep the fire at bay.

He turns towards where he heard the screams. He sees a child in a clearing wreathed with flames looking scared, with desperate eyes scanning the canopies. They look to be like some sort of squirrel yokai. He rushes over, batting away the flames with his magical aura formed into large hands as he goes.

When he reaches the child he imagines how the Captain would act in this situation and he puts on his most heroic face and states in his most heroic voice, "Don't worry, the Red Angel of Preventing Harm is here to save you!" The child stops crying momentarily and gives him a look of confusion. Raph falters. "Er, along with Captain James Jupiter..." That last part seems to make the child perk up and they manage a weak, tear-stained smile. They point a shaky finger up to the trees and say "My family is still up there!"

Raph looks up to see a literal treehouse, mostly in flames with at least half a dozen scared faces of squirrel yokai poking out. That's a lot of people, Raph thinks. It'll be hard to carry them all. But they're small, so Raph can handle it. Probably. With resolve and in a voice more confident than he feels, he calls to the family shouting above the flames, "Jump down! I will catch you!"

The yokai look at each other worriedly, so Raph lifts up his hands allowing his arm projections to expand and cupping his transparent red hands in a makeshift cushion for the family to land on. The family of, five, six, seven, Raph counts, leaps down into his waiting arms. As he lowers them to safety, he hears a cracking sound and sees the tree that the family just leapt from wobble dangerously. There's no time to wait for the family to get their bearings, so he just lifts them all up onto his broad shoulders, and grabs the child around the waist, and flings himself and the family out of the way of the collapsing tree; the rush of flames from the falling branches licking at his heels and tail as he runs. With him focusing on trying to carry the panicky family, it does not allow him much room to maneuver through the fiery forest, and his concentration on trying to avoid the flames prevents him from accessing his magic effectively. Still he does the best he can to move around the burning trees. He thinks he sees a path out, but then he hears a moan. Raph scans the forest and sees another young yokai - some sort of lizard - on the ground and looking very out of it. A nearby fallen tree branch tells him that maybe they got hit in the head. If Raph gets the family out of the forest, he may not be able to make it back to the lizard. But if he grabs the lizard, then both he and the folks he's carrying may not make it out. Raph doesn’t hesitate in his decision.

Raph rushes over to the lizard yokai, and, having no hands left to carry him, bends down and grasps a fold of his clothing in his teeth. Sometimes it's handy to have the strong jaws of a snapping turtle. There’s some more creaking from above and several large limbs from the trees fall down towards Raph and the people he’s carrying. There’s no time to dodge out of the way, and with so many people, he doesn’t think he can. So Raph stands his ground. His eyes darken over, and where his iris and pupil would normally be the shape of a blood-red moon appears, glowing even brighter than the fire surrounding him. He takes a deep breath, and wills his magic form around him. A red projection, mimicking his body’s shape and features, grows from him and surrounds both himself and the yokai he is protecting. Raph grunts as he forces the magic to hold as the blazing branches glance off of it. When the barrage of burning wood stops, Raph shakes off any errant cinders and dissipates his large red form.

He whirls around to try to get back to the path to safety but he can no longer see it. Everything is in flames now and the heat is really starting to get to him. The smoke is stinging his eyes, and he takes some heavy breaths through his nose, trying not to choke on the hot air or on his own rising anxiety. What would the Captain do in this situation? Would someone like him let a stupid fire stop him? Would he be disappointed at Raph for the tears threatening to spill over right now? They're from the smoke, not fear, Raph tells himself, of course, but his mind still conjures that disappointed look of the Captain in his brain. Raph has to remind himself to not bite down hard on the fabric that is in his mouth keeping the lizard yokai in place.

That's when he sees a flash of green through the blaze.

There's a section within the maelstrom of fire that contains no flames. A pocket of darker coolness that is inhabited by a freckle-faced yokai. He looks to be about Raph's age, maybe a little younger, and definitely much smaller. But he's wearing this brilliant smile and seems to be completely unfazed by the situation he's in. The boy cups a hand over his mouth and flames seem to come from it. Anger fills Raph’s gut and he's about to shout at the yokai as he momentarily thinks that the guy is adding to his troubles. However, Raph stops when he realizes that the kid is not breathing out fire, but sucking it in.

The yokai's already round face puffs out and becomes rounder as if storing the fire in his cheeks. The yellow freckles on his face stand out on his green skin, even among the yellow flames. The boy pulls in a deep breath, extinguishing enough of the fire to allow for a path out of the forest and to safety. Raph looks at the boy in wonder for just a second as he looks over cheerfully at him and winks. A sense of familiarity comes over Raph as he looks at the yokai. He's not sure why, but Raph is sure that he's a turtle yokai despite his orange clothes covering up where his shell would be. The smaller turtle yokai gives an "after you" gesture at Raph which snaps him out of his thoughts, and he quickly barrels through the burnt, but no longer flaming, woods.

He makes it out to where Captain Jupiter is still directing folks to safety. Once in the clear, Raph heaves a huge sigh of relief and lowers his load to the ground. The family of squirrel yokai scramble off of him and quickly go over to the Captain, excited to meet the famed hero. Captain Jupiter soaks in the praise and pats the heads of the younger yokai as he sends them on their way. Man, the Captain is so cool, just remaining calm this whole time, Raph thinks. He doesn’t even look like he’s got a burn on him - not even singed clothing! That’s in direct contrast to Raph’s soot stained clothes, and dirty face and claws, which he now feels somewhat self-conscious about as the Captain looks over to him.

The Captain gives Raph a toothy grin. "What have you got there, my boy," he says, smile fading into a grimace, "...in your teeth?”

Raph raises his brow realizing he’s still carrying the lizard yokai. He opens his mouth and gently places the young yokai in his arms, taking care to cradle his injured head. "Oh, um," Raph starts nervously. The Captain didn't like it when he used his more turtle-y features. "I, uh, ran out of arms to carry people with," he explains.

The Captain gives a discouraging look. “Remember, lad, ‘act like a beast, become a beast,’” he says tapping at his own teeth where Raph’s snaggletooth would be. He waves over his sidekick that Raph only just noticed was there, "Better let Red Fox take him then. Don't want you injuring him further, after all."

"Ah yeah," Raph says, wilting a bit as he lowers the lizard guy down to the sweet-faced red panda yokai in question. She’s also covered in no small amount of soot, and he can see some of her normally tidy auburn fur is lightly singed.

Red Fox looks up to him in concern and asks in her usual motherly tone, "Are you hurt?" She sniffs the air around him as if trying to discern his state by smell, causing the pink scar above her nose to crinkle and stand out behind the soot dusting her face.

Raph gives what he hopes is an encouraging smile and says, "Yeah, I'm fine." He gestures behind him to where he last saw the turtle yokai, saying, "It was really thanks to--" but he cuts himself off when he sees that no one is there. "Where did he go?" Raph asks himself.

There was a turtle yokai there, wasn't there? The smoke and fire hadn’t messed with his brain that much, had they? His thoughts are interrupted when he hears the Captain give his usual rundown of the situation. "Well that seems to be everybody, and it even seems as though the fire is dying down now, so that is some luck. All families are accounted for thanks to my steady guidance. Red Fox did well to listen to my commands, too. But kid, please do not rush off into the woods recklessly again, it may be too much to handle for a protege like yourself."

Raph’s shoulders sag under the Captain’s criticisms, but gives a "Yessir" all the same.

The Captain turns away to gather the victims of the fire to him, gaining statements and directing them to the necessary healing houses if need be. Raph watches on, and not for the first time tries to imagine what it's like to have such a leaderly tone that folks automatically respect.

He feels a warm hand placed on his own and he looks down to see Red Fox giving him a proud grin, "You did great out there, Raphael."

A smile spreads on Raph's face at her words and she gives a wink as she walks away with the lizard yokai in her arms.

Raph looks back at the once blazing forest, now mellowed out to a light flicker, and wonders what happened to the yokai that gave him a similarly kind wink and why he felt like he'd met the guy before…

<--previous /// next-->

#rottmnt #rottmnt fantasy au #rottmntfantasyau #when the moon meets the morning #rottmnt raph #rottmnt mikey #michelangelo #raphael #red fox #jupiter jim #captain james jupiter #marcus moncrief #fic #fanfic #my writing #jadethest0ne #jadethestone #fire

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laughingpinecone · 3 years

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ToT letter 2021

I am laughingpineapple on AO3

Hello dear author! I hope you’ll have fun with our match. Feel free to draw from general or fandom-specific likes, past letters, and/or follow your heart.

Art likes: characters doing something, even something very simple, illustrating a moment rather than abstractly posing. I also enjoy seeing them wear different clothes, getting a feel of what their fashion sense is like beyond their canon outfit(s). Or dressing them up for some outlandish AU!

Likes: worldbuilding, slice of life (especially if the event the fic focuses on is made up but canon-specific), missing moments, 5+1 and similar formats, bonding and emotional support/intimacy, physical intimacy, lingering touches, loyalty, casefic, surrealism, magical realism, established relationships, future fic, hurt/comfort or just comfort from the ample canon hurt, throwing characters into non-canon environments, banter, functional relationships between dysfunctional individuals, unexplained mysteries, bittersweet moods, journal/epistolary fic, dreams and memories and identities, canon-adjacent tropey plots, outsider POV, UST, resolved UST, exploration of secondary bits of canon, leaning on the uniqueness of the canon setting/mood, found families, characters reuniting after a long and/or harrowing time, friends-to-lovers, road trips, maps, mutual pining, cuddling, wintry moods, the feeling of flannel and other fabrics, ridiculous concepts played straight, sensory details, sickfic, places being haunted, people being haunted, the mystery of the woods, small hopes in bleak worlds, electricity, places that don’t quite add up, mismatched memories, caves and deep places, distant city lights at night, emphasis on non-human traits of non-human characters (gen-wise, but also a hearty yes xeno for applicable ships), emphasis on inhuman traits of characters who were human once and have sort of shed it all behind

DNW: non-canonical rape, non-canonical children, focus on children, unrequested ships (background established canon couples are okay, mentions of parents are okay!), canon retellings

All requests are for both fic and art!

Death Crown: Death, trick

(I haven't played the DLC yet so, alas, no demons, or no spoilers for the demons, at least) I am absolutely charmed by the overall mood of this game and would like to see something more in that vein! Anything! Got more sacred (or unholy?) geometrical architecture for Death to interact with, maybe in greater detail than just wrecking it? What else feels like a contemporary take on a Bosch painting? Can Death get lost?

Ghost Trick: Jowd, Cabanela, trick, treat

Anything focused on Cabanela being an unstoppable force (confident, untiring, sparkling, stubborn, dexterous, loyal to the bitter end, legs) and/or Jowd being an immovable object (sarcastic, strong, depressed, self-deprecating but knowing he's hot stuff, also stubborn, clever but an emotional dumbass, round). Figuring out stuff? Something in the new timeline is linked to the old timeline? Coat? Dancing? Scarves? Halloween costumes?

I like Cabanela/Jowd and Cabanela/Alma/Jowd and Cabanela/Alma in scenarios where Jowd isn't around and Alma/Jowd in general (REALLY like all these, okay. like this is the one request where I'd love the most self-indulgent shippy takes as well), and dig Lynne/Memry. Yomiel/fianSissel and Emma/JM also cool!

Hylics: any, trick, treat

(I have only played the first game so far so please no overt spoilers for Hylics 2. Feel free to include stuff from it but... stealthily, I guess?) This is an "anything that feels somewhat like canon, please" sort of request! Love the mood, love the cast, love the little added details in their menu screen. Those can be prompts? Or the oddball stats? How do ToT's trick and treat freeforms apply to Hylics' overall... hylicsness, what would those guys think constitutes a "creepy" moment or a "fluffy" one?

Not into ships for this one, however I WILL say that Dedusmuln has all the proverbial curves in the right places. mostly their face.

Kentucky Route Zero: Weaver

Math, debt, the liminal state of almost being a ghost, seeing the world with a strange clarity... just anything Weaver, please! How'd she make her way to the town? What was it like for her to be working on Xanadu for a time? What about the community broadcast! Does she have an opinion on Carrington's oeuvre? You know... things... stuff. Weaver things. and stuff.

I love the whole cast and Weaver... wove... her story through most of them so feel free to bring in whomever. Not interested in ships here though.

Paradise Killer: Lady Love Dies, trick

A post-canon glimpse of life on '''''perfect''''' 25? That's not QUITE enough class consciousness to make the whole thing work, you guys. What does 'normal' life feel like to LD now? After following Henry's case and talking to Shinji so much, can she see that it's doomed to fail again, and then what? What IS Island 25 like, anyway? (what comes after Island 25, even?)

I liked the choice of canon romances - if it has to be just one I'd prefer it to be Crimson, but I'd also be interested in seeing what a V or triad with Doom Jazz would look like. They're all so chill about stuff

Pyre: Volfred, trick, treat

Pragmatic idealist, charismatic and bad at people, pacifist, activist, physiologically incapable of shutting up for a hot second, what's there not to love... I am very into either of the following: C. Volfred Sandalwood has a fantastic day; C. Volfred Sandalwood has a terrible no good day. Everything is great! Pre-exile antiestablishmentarian antics, maybe with Bertrude? Political gambits? The very physical dangers of the Downside which may or may not catch a scholar by surprise (who saves him?)? Tree problems? Meeting Oralech for the first time and Volfred thinks he himself is hot stuff but out of the two, Oralech is clearly the VIP? Feeling like he should live up to Lu Sclorian's legacy but he feels much closer to other Scribes (and what does Lu have to say about it, one way or another?)? The thrilling intimacy of Reading? The thrilling intimacy of lowercase reading also, maybe reading old manuscripts found in the Downside?

I very much ship him with Tariq and/or Oralech. The only canon ship I like is Hedwyn/Fikani. I also like Soliam/Gol, Bertrude/Pamitha and Celeste/Jodariel. Love all the Nightwings + Dalbert (+Deluge...?); love to dunk on Manley, Brighton and Lendel (I don't enjoy flat-out bashing, more like... I enjoy the way they are portrayed as horrible gremlins in canon and if they turn up in fic I'm not interested in more positive portrayals)

Signs of the Sojourner: Rhea, Elias, trick, treat

Once again pretty much an "anything in the style of canon" request. I love this setting, its themes and all the little lives that fill it. I am interested in a wide range of postcanon scenarios and love the whole cast - does Rhea come back to $town any number of years down the line and find $character? How'd their storyline end up in the medium-long term? What the hell is up with the Stranger (seriously, three runs and I never managed to speak with them, I have no idea)? What's life like for Elias back home, or in a new home if they can't keep the store, or if Rhea landed the Oscar ending or whatever (just, please, not dead Rhea. I love that ending but can't stand to consider what it'd do to Elias)? Or does he join the caravan just once? Who did Rhea grow to really like and can't wait to see every time? Any ghost stories or creepy encounters on the caravan's route? Does Thunder help?

I'm neutral on ships here - good with Rhea&Elias, good with background Rhea/Elias but I wouldn't like a romantic focus.

Totally Normal Wizard Apprentice: apprentice, wizard, master, trick, treat

(conflict of interest disclaimer, I illustrated this but didn't write nor nominate it) What awaits the apprentice outside the wizard's tower? It sounds like a pretty wild moon out there, I loved all the worldbuilding hints of the bigger setting. Does the wizard keep track of the apprentice, with her telescope or otherwise, and how does she take care of her ruined parlor? Was this all some sort of 5d chess on the master's part, and if so to what end? And what kind of otherworldly patience does this man possess, anyway, to handle the apprentice on a daily basis?

Twin Peaks: Margaret, Diane, Lucy, Tammy, trick, treat

(bass-boosted ethereal whooshing) For tricks, I would like to see any of these characters face the woods, the mystery of the woods, and/or a new symbol of your liking. Or: Margaret in the city, Diane and the moon, Lucy and the color blue, Tammy incognito.

For treats, a happy meeting. I love the whole cast and I'm always thrilled by gonzo "&" pairings, bring in whomever! Coffee and pie? The Bookhouse Boys? A kinder aspect of the woods?

Fandom-specific notes: love s3, love the books too. I like Lucy/Andy, Margaret/Sam fwiw, and rarepairs Tammy/Cynthia and Diane/Constance. Please no Fireman's-house-is-the-white-lodge, no Twin Perfect, no Judy-was-destroyed (nor is destroyable).

Arcade Spirits: Percy, Teo, treat

More than anything, I love the sense of group and camaraderie among the arcade's staff and regulars, and I'd love to see some more of it. I picked Percy and Teo 'cause they're my faves but anyone you may want to add, up to and including Sue, is very very welcome. Is there any aspect of gaming that feels like it could be adapted to this strange world of contemporary arcades? Cosplay shenanigans for everyone courtesy of Ashley? Any other activity that could show how Percy and/or Teo get along with the others, like they were all forming little groups during the beach chapter? It's such a feel-good canon, any feel-good situation would be great!

My Ari is with Percy but I'm not really interested in shipping here. All sorts of friendships though!

#letter

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colour-outside-the-liness · 3 years

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Hi Colour! How are you doing today? I don't know about doing meaningful things with my life, feel like I've just been surviving this entire time lol. However I am trying to figure it out and working on building the life I want to live and hopefully I will be able contribute to this world in some way.

I don't think I've ever played a game of trivial pursuit. Have never been to a pub either, not like the ones you have in the UK anyway. Just been to very dirty bars where me and my friends used to drink as much as we could afford, shared questionable food that could potentially make us sick the next day and there were no quizzes or games really haha. So your exp sounds way more fun! 😂

I'm glad you're giving the song a chance! Only Spotify knows how many times I've listened to it lol. I reckon Hozier's going to be my artist of the year for 2021. I love attributing works of art to Dani x Jamie, have a whole ass Pinterest board full with images of paintings, poetry, music and anything that I think relates to them really (yeah I know, I have a problem).

I love everything you've said about how Dani, Viola and the lady in the lake are alike, I hadn't really thought about their similarities before, but everything you've said makes perfect sense. I always saw Viola as a narcissist, even her drive to protect her child felt selfish in a way, don't know if you know what I mean. And when she fades away and becomes the lady she's just pure (almost animalistic) instinct while on auto pilot, bc she only remembers rage and abandonment, she takes anything on her path aggressively unless they're a child. So what she sees in Dani is not processed logically, right? It's pure instinct and emotions, so what she recognizes in her when Dani invites her in is the desperate need to protect this child, so she sees her as deserving. Perhaps she also saw in Dani and opportunity to escape this nightmare. Despite all her faults she didn't deserve what happened to her either.

And don't get me wrong, Jamie is so, so strong and solid and she is my favorite mostly bc I identify with her personality more than Dani's. But we know Jamie is all that even before we learn her story, and I feel like it is expected that she'll be the strong and brave one bc she's had to be that her entire life albeit unwillingly. But Dani? We expect her to break at any given point, I mean she is reaching her limit after all that's happened, with all the weight she's carrying. I remember thinking "Jesus, this girl needs help" when I first watched the show hahaha. But she fights every damn time, she doesn't run away and that's why I find her so fascinating. That's why I thought this song was so fitting. Even if Dani would never see herself that way. But it's Jamie's perspective (and fire signs tend to exaggerate everything 😂) so it feels fitting that she thinks so highly of her baby haha. Ugh I just wanted them to stay together forever. 🥺

Omg yes! I love how you refined this idea, good thing you're a writer and I'm not hahaha. And yeah I'm absolutely here for sapphics with weapons like holy shit imagine Jamie fighting with a sword? 🤤 I'm weak. Hahaha would be cool to see them in a pirate AU too! Maybe someone's already done it? Idk. But aaaah I want to see them in every possible universe hahaha. Makes me want to get back into drawing too. 😩

Aww you two sound like you have a lovely bond going on. Your niece sounds like the coolest! I started out drawing anime too when I was a kid and ended up doing graphic design for a living! How did learning how to draw anime style go for you today?

Hey I'm doing great thank you I hope you are too? I know that feeling because I feel like that's how I have made it to 27 just surviving (barely) and taking things one day at a time to get me to this point and hopefully I can contribute in some way even it its just a small way... so I totally get that feeling but I am sure you contribute so much without you even realising it!! Oh it's great but depending on how competitive the people you're playing with are it can get pretty heated... I've been in some heated games of it before because people just refuse to believe I know the answers to some of the questions and they think I've been cheating and have all but demanded I have another question asked instead of the one I got right... and pub quizzes can be fun again depending on the team you're in and how seriously you wanna take it I have been in teams where its been a serious thing and we have all desperately wanted to win and then I've been in teams and we've just had fun with it... all the pubs I go in are dirty bars too but sometimes they have pub quizzes... I have had many nights where I have drank what I can afford... one night me on my roommate went over board though and we ended up spending ALL our money even our taxi fair and we had to walk home in the dark along country roads with hardly any lights to guide us... because of how drunk we were it too us around 3-4 hours and I fell over a road sign and ended up in a ditch... I've had a lot of fun experiences but some really stupid ones as well... your experiences sound great though!! I would love that!! I listened to the song and I loved it so much!! I don't even wanna know what my most listened to artist will be this year... my money is on it being the Six musical soundtrack... probably All You Wanna Do from that musical I'll be surprised if it's anything else. I would love for it to be someone like Hozier, but ever since I have done my Spotify wrapped thing it's always been a musical of some kind that's been my number 1 song / artist haha I love doing the same thing. If I can make something fit Dani x Jamie I will like it doesn't even matter what it is haha... I don't think you have a problem I think that sounds so cool!! I have nothing like that. I just have a head full of random ideas screaming to be let out I agree Viola is definitely selfish and narcissistic and everything she did came from a place of anger and rage over the things that happened to her she fell in love and got married and had a child and saw her sister try and take that from her while she was ill and in the end her sister killed her. Like yeah, I do feel sorry for Perdita with the way she was treated but I do think everything Viola did was out of frustration over what was happening to her. Like you said she acts on auto pilot and only knows rage until it comes to children- because all she knows is she is looking for a child so when she saw Dani so selfless sacrifice herself for a child she saw a little bit of herself in Dani she knows Dani is a good person and she can relate to that protective streak and I think she did see Dani as deserving I definitely agree with everything you've said here. Viola might have had faults and flaws and who doesn't? But I definitely think she had it rough and did deserve better than she was given. I agree, you can tell looking at Jamie that she is strong and brave while Dani comes off as the exact opposite. But I think you see fully how brave they both are when Dani sacrifices herself for Flora and when Jamie offers to keep Dani company and loves her despite knowing she won't be able to love her forever. I love Jamie but definitely relate to Dani's personality more, there are a lot of things Dani does that I see myself in her because I have done those types of things myself and the whole beast in the jungle speech resonates with me so much and every time I watch the last episode and hear that speech I am a crying mess from that point on. It's funny that you thought that about Dani when you first watched it, because me and my sisters got my mum to

watch it and she said the same thing about Dani "she needs help" but then once told me she liked Dani because she reminded her of me that was an interesting conversation to be a part of "Dani needs help... but I like her she's like you." I was like "Thanks?" I agree this song is definitely more how Jamie would see Dani, I think Dani just has a very blasé view of herself, like I don't think she's self conscious or self deprecating in anyway but I think she sort of walks around like "this is me and this is just how I am" where as Jamie just sees Dani for how brave and strong and amazing she is- maybe even if as a fire sign she exaggerates a little bit haha Jamie just thinks Dani is the most amazing person in the world and I just know that Dani saw her the same way!! I really wanted them to be together forever... I am never going to emotionally recover from Bly Manor. Your idea was incredible and I think it would be a great story to read honestly that's the type of thing I live for!! OMG Jamie with a sword is just 🤤 🥵 I am all for sapphics and weapons of any kind!! There's this pirate AU which is absolutely amazing!! I don't know if you've read it or not but iamalekza writes some really great fics!! https://archiveofourown.org/works/28631598/chapters/70179306 ^^ Pirate AU I really wish I could draw I would love to be able to draw scenes from fics I have read and even ones I have written but I just don't have the skill set for that!! I would love to see other fan arts though I think drawing is such an incredible talent to have and I am in awe of anyone that can do it!! Me and my niece have a great bond, she's like a little mini me (despite almost being as tall as me). She is honestly such a cool kid I have a hell of a lot of fun with her- I'm looking after her again tomorrow and I have no idea what we're gonna do but we will figure something out... she's such a good drawer she's only just started doing it at the beginning of the year and she's really progressed with it... I however have not so I am definitely gonna need more practice. That's so cool that you started out doing anime drawing and then ended up going into a career in graphic design. Again that's a talent that I am just in awe of because it's just something I have never been able to do!!

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saudadeonly · 4 years

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let’s start in the middle

Posting this here as well because I am desperate for validation. You can read it on ao3 as well. This work is part 1 of a series in a world three degrees north, the rest of which can technically be read in any order.

Death Eater! Sirius Black AU

On a cool night in June, Minerva McGonnagall receives a visitor. What he has to tell her is less than pleasant.

(or, Sirius doesn't run away in the summer after 5th year, but instead makes a deal with his mother, and this is a consequence of it)

Word count: 2377

___

June 1978

The last person Minerva McGonnagall expects to knock on her door on a cool summer night is perhaps not Sirius Black because he’s made it a habit over the years to come by her office at least once a fortnight, but he is certainly not very high on the list as of right now. Come to think of it, Minerva can’t remember the last time Sirius Black was in her office. He’s been remarkably well-behaved in the past couple of years.

“Mr Black,” she greets, looking him up and down to make sure he is not injured in some way. He looks very put together if a bit fidgety so her worries move on to his troublesome friends. “What’s the matter?”

“May I come in, Professor?” he asks, uncharacteristically soft, and the sheer surprise of it is enough to make her step aside.

He walks into the room, back straight, shoulders drawn up, every inch the Black heir he so despises to be. But when he sits down in the in front of her desk, he seems to become liquid, all long limbs and slumped shoulders.

“Have a biscuit,” she says, pushing forward the tin of biscuits she keeps on hand for her students, usually some very distinctive ones, like the one in front of her.

He shakes his head, looking distinctly pale, and she notices, not for the first time this year, the dark smudges underneath his eyes. “No, thank you, Professor.”

She hides her surprise and smoothly closes up the tin, then turns around to her kettle and boils the water in it. “Tea?” she asks, back still to her student.

“I—” He huffs a breath, then says, “Please.”

Minerva doesn’t ask what kind and how much sugar and if he wants milk, because he’s been in her office enough for her to know how exactly he drinks his tea and that he actually prefers coffee, anyway.

He stays silent and unmoving for the time she pours the tea into two cups, which is strange in and of itself, but he doesn’t even say anything when one of the cups slips from its saucer and she barely manages to flick her wand in time to catch it before it spills its contents onto the floor.

Safe to say, Minerva is quite worried now.

Only when she hands him his cup of tea—black, two spoons of sugar, no milk—does he murmur, “Thank you.” He deposits the saucer on the desk and hugs the cup with both hands, blowing softly into the tea to make it cool down faster, his eyes downcast.

Minerva does put down the saucer as well, but she grips the cup by the handle instead and brings it to her lips. She prefers her tea hot. “What’s the matter, Mr Black?” she asks again, patiently, but she doesn’t miss the way his fingers tighten around his cup at the use of his last name. “Sirius,” she amends gently, and he does look up at that, his grey eyes startling. “I can’t help you if you don’t—”

“I’m getting the Dark Mark tomorrow,” Sirius says before she can finish, eyes like steel in their determination.

Out of all the things—Minerva hadn’t expected this, not one bit. She shrieks, but stifles it with a hand before it can fully escape, and the motion sends her tea flying all around.

Sirius seems to have been prepared. Quick as a flash, he has his wand in hand and flicks it, directing the tea back into the cup and the cup itself safely onto the saucer on the desk. He pockets his wand as soon as the cup rattles, and looks at Minerva with a rather sheepish glint in his eyes.

“I’m sorry, Professor,” he says, looking like he doesn’t know what exactly he’s apologising for but meaning it all the same. She thinks it must be the first time since he was sorted into Gryffindor that he’s genuinely apologising to her. “I made a deal with my mother two years ago and if I don’t honour it—” He bites his lip, takes a sip of his tea. He clears his throat and when he continues his voice is stronger. “I’m not doing it because I choose to, but because I have no other choice, not if I want everyone I love to live. I know this won’t absolve me of anything I may do, being of sound mind—or, as much a Black can be—but I wanted somebody to know that in my heart—” He swallows, shaking his head, and doesn’t go on.

“May I ask why?” she asks, but she has an inkling anyway.

His Adam’s apple bobs. “You know why,” he says.

Of course she does. She’s seen Sirius this past two years, talking in hushed tones with Regulus, a boy of slighter build but by no means any less talent than his older brother, the strain in their frighteningly straight postures obvious as they exchanged words. And she’s seen the Marauders, her foolish boys, less troublesome and more tight-knit than ever but with inevitable cracks growing between them, what with Sirius’s more—well, serious demeanour.

“And you’re willing to give up the life you’ve built here, with James, and Remus, and Peter, and the others, for this?”

He smiles, though it’s hardly a smile, and more of a grimace of self-deprecating amusement. “The life I’ve built here, Professor—it’s only an illusion, seven amazing years I got to have before I have to be who I was burdened with the day I was born. Perhaps if I had been brave enough two years ago, we wouldn’t be having this conversation now.” He gives a one-shouldered shrug. “But I wasn’t. So now I will be what my mother expects of me, because that’s the deal we made—I get to finish Hogwarts, doing what I want, then I do as she sees fit and Reggie and my friends remain untouched by her hand.” He blinks, his grimace pulling up into what almost looks like a wry smirk. “I can be a good pureblood when I have my motivations.”

“Don’t be daft, Sirius,” she snaps. He flinches and she softens her voice. “You could choose differently, you could, the Potters would—”

“The Potters,” Sirius says over her with a strength that makes her forget he’s just spoken over her, “are good people, who have been beyond kind to me since the day they met me, but they are old and have enough on their plate as it is, and it would be a piss-poor thanks for their kindness to inflict Walburga Black’s wrath on them.” He puts down his cup and looks at her directly. “I have thought this through, Professor, more than you can imagine. No matter what I do, no matter how I rebel, someone will end up getting hurt. This option predicts only my hurting. This option allows me to protect Reggie and Jamie, Remus, Lily, and Peter. And their hatred, the destruction of my soul, is a small price to pay for it.”

Minerva is left speechless for a second. She has to admit she didn’t expect such an impassioned speech, delivered with such determined force, but then again, Sirius Black always has had a flair for dramatics.

“I—you realise what this entails?” she asks.

“I do.” He clears his throat. “It will hardly be a surprise for the wizarding world, Professor. I am a Black, after all—my soul is as dark as my name.” He pauses, the upturn of his lips almost reminiscent now—he must be enjoying using the joke he’s used so many times already. He sobers only moments later, saying quietly, “But I was hoping it might help you, too.”

Minerva raises a brow. “How will having one of the most gifted students of his age on the side of You-Know-Who help us?” she asks, taking a sip of her tea to calm her nerves.

He doesn’t even react to the hidden compliment, which tells her that the world truly is turning on its axis.

“I know about the Order,” he says calmly. “I won’t join—I have no desire to be a double agent, or a triple agent, as it happens—but I want to…” He licks his lips, placing his elbows on his knees as he leans forward, his hair framing his face—so, so young he is, she realises suddenly. “I would like to pass information to you, whatever I find out that will help you win this war.”

Minerva straightens. “If you want to spy for the Order, Sirius, you should talk to Albus. I am not a part of—it,” she says.

“No.” His answer comes almost too quickly, enough so that she looks at him over the rim of her spectacles. “I don’t trust Professor Dumbledore,” he explains, wringing his hands together. “Not enough to do this with him.” His eyes are almost imperceptibly wide now, grey and earnest, as if willing her, pleading with her, to understand. “But I trust you. And I know you would never—” He doesn’t finish his thought and Minerva thinks that is for the better so when she feels something pricking in her eyes.

She quickly swallows another mouthful of hot tea and smooths down a wrinkle on the leg of her night robes. When she looks back up at Sirius, he’s biting the inside of his cheek. She gives one nod, curt and quick, and says, “Very well.”

He doesn’t exactly brighten but there’s a new ease to his movements as he sips his tea. “Thank you, Professor.”

They drink their tea in silence for the next few minutes, until Minerva dares to ask, “When will you tell James and the others?”

He shrugs. “I won’t. They’ll find out eventually, but until then—I don’t know, I’ll make them hate me.” He huffs a breath of air that might be able to pass as laughter if it weren’t for the way it breaks. “They’ll probably think she has me under Imperius or something.”

“You’re being braver than any Gryffindor I’ve ever met.”

He offers her a small smile. “Thank you, Professor, but perhaps save that for the time after I manage to pull this off.”

They are silent again.

Sirius leans back suddenly, all vulnerability gone from his face, replaced by sky-high confidence, giving her one of his signature lopsided grins and there he is, this brave, troublemaker of a boy she’s known this past seven years. Her heart aches with the thought of that bright boy dying. “So how hard will it be to pretend to hate me if you see me out there?”

One week, later she watches as he throws up his pointed hat, roaring in joyous laughter along with the rest of his class, the words they’re shouting at each other lost in the applause of the spectators and the students themselves.

She sees him grab Lily around the waist, spinning her round and round as her dark red hair streams behind her, then draw in Marlene and Dorcas with each hand as they stumble into him and embrace him each on one side. She sees him reach Peter next, digging his knuckles into the shorter boy’s scalp with a wide grin and laughingly step away as Peter bats at him. He runs right into Remus and as he grabs him, one hand fisting in the back of Remus’s robes and the other cupping the back of his neck, Minerva feels the need to look away, to give them privacy, even if they’re embracing so emotionally in the middle of a crowd.

When she looks back, he’s already found James, their arms around each other as they jump up and down, the colour of their hair almost identical, the grins on their faces almost duplicates of each other’s, and her insides ache because they could’ve been brothers, they could have been, they could have—

But Sirius’s real brother comes along then, slow and unsure, but with a small smile on his face, and Sirius steps forward to catch his forearm with his hand, briefly pressing their foreheads together. He says something to him, something even she can guess is beyond private, but before Regulus can reply, Hagrid calls for the graduates to go to the boats. Regulus breaks away and goes back up to the castle without another glance, leaving Sirius to pick up his hat along with his classmates.

Minerva, along with all the other Professors, walks the graduates to the lake and stands a few steps away from its bank as they start to climb into the boats, Lily wandering towards Marlene, Dorcas and Mary to let the four boys clamber into one boat together.

It is heart-breaking to think that in just a few days, or perhaps even hours, Sirius will be as alien to them as Severus Snape a few boats away is.

As if sensing her thoughts, Sirius Black looks back at her and grins. “Alright there, Professor?” he shouts. “You won’t miss me too much, will you?”

She doesn’t have it in herself to hold back a small smile. “I think I’ll manage just fine.”

He favours her with another grin and then he’s jostled back as the boats disembark to glide over to the Hogsmeade station. He nearly topples over into Remus, but regains his balance, turning his now much softer smile on the other boy.

They’re nearly in the middle of the Black Lake, when he looks back again, this time no hint of laughter in his face. Their eyes meet, both expressions carefully impassive, but Minerva doesn’t think she imagines the tremble in his body as he lifts his hand—is that the arm that’s been Marked, she wonders, or is it the other one—and tips his hat ever-so-slightly towards her.

Minerva watches toward them until Albus takes her by the elbow and gently leads her inside. “They’ll be just fine, Minerva,” he says, blue eyes gentle as he pats her hand.

She presses her lips together and closes her eyes, thinking back to that night, imagining those grey eyes staring up at their owner’s namesake in the night sky, blank and unseeing.

#harry potter #sirius black #minerva mcgonagall #hogwarts #death eater sirius black #not really #but technically #first war with voldemort #james potter #lily evans #remus lupin #regulus black #peter pettigrew #in a world three degrees north

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likecastle · 4 years

Text

Witcher Noir AU, part 6

More Witcher noir AU, following on from part five. All previous parts can be found here. Jaskier sings “I Fall In Love Too Easily” and “My Funny Valentine”.

This part is for my friend M, who requested Jaskier singing “My Funny Valentine” on top of a piano, and boy was it a pleasure to deliver. If you have prompts or suggestions for scenes you’d like to see incorporated here, please send them my way!

“Does this place have a phone?” Geralt asks.

Mousesack, as if roused from some dismal dream, gestures around the corner in the direction of the restrooms. Geralt gets to his feet and sure enough, there’s an enclosed phone booth, surely a holdover from this place’s past as a legitimate business.

He drops his coin in the slot, gives the operator the number, and waits. It rings for a long time.

“What?” growls the voice on the other end of the line, when someone finally picks up.

“Renfri,” he says, “I have a favor to ask you.”

Her silence is pointed in its duration.

“It’s important,” he tries.

“You know I’m not just some gal Friday you can call up whenever you need information, right?” she says, as if anyone could mistake the most ruthless investigative journalist in town for some romantic foil in a screwball comedy.

“I know.”

“I’ve got my own work—my own priorities. You can’t expect me drop everything just because you need a fucking favor.”

“I don’t.”

He can practically hear Renfri clench her jaw. “Damn it, Geralt, I was meeting with a source who was willing to talk to me about that son of a bitch Stregobor. She was risking a lot to come here. And then you had to call and spook her.”

Geralt leans his forehead against the cool glass of the telephone cabinet and closes his eyes. Renfri’s been chasing Stregobor for years, trying to find enough proof to finally expose his corruption. It’s more than some story for her. Although she doesn’t like to talk about the reasons for her vendetta against the Chief of Police, Geralt’s pieced together enough bits and pieces about her life to make an educated guess. She told him once that Stregobor was the reason she became a reporter in the first place—“because somebody’s got to bring the things men like him do in the dark out into the light and make them pay for what they’ve done.” Geralt knows how much a real lead on Stregobor would mean to her. “I’m sorry.”

Renfri lets out a heavy sigh, her breath rough against the phone’s receiver. “I know you are.”

“What I need to ask you, it’s about Stregobor.”

“I’m listening.”

So Geralt tells her everything he knows—about Calanthe’s fall, and the runaway nightclub singer, and the missing girl, and Eist’s murder, and Stregobor’s threats to Mousesack, and the man with the feather in his hat standing watch outside the Palace Hotel. He tells her Yennefer’s theory about Calanthe’s turf war with Emhyr, and his own suspicions that something much more dangerous is afoot. There aren’t many people he’d lay it all out on the table for, but Renfri is one of them. She’d slit his throat herself if it meant she could finally get what she wants, but unlike most people in this town, she’d do it while looking him dead in the eye, and he can’t think of a better reason in the world to trust her.

Renfri is quiet so long Geralt is afraid they’ve been disconnected. At last, she says, “What do you need me for?”

“Emhyr having Calanthe killed, that’s one thing. But the girl—” All of a sudden, he can’t bring himself to say Cirilla’s name, as though speaking it aloud to a stranger is too much of a risk. “I can’t make the pieces fit together. I need to know what Stregobor gets out of this. I figured if anyone would be able to find out, it’d be you.”

“And in return?” she asks.

“I can’t promise anything, but if you want proof about Stregobor, doesn’t this seem like a good chance to get it?”

“Fine.”

Geralt lets out a deep breath. “Thank you.”

“Save your thanks till you’ve found the girl,” Renfri says. “Just hope she comes out of this in one piece.”

Geralt can’t consider the alternative, so he hangs up.

“Well?” Mousesack says, when Geralt returns to the booth.

He doesn’t sit down. “We’ll see.”

“You’re not staying?” Mousesack asks, gesturing to Geralt’s meal.

Geralt shakes his head. “I’ve got to get going.” It’s later than he thought, and he doesn’t want to risk missing Jaskier’s set.

Given the time, he decides to shell out for a cab downtown. When he tells the driver where he’s headed, the man gives him a skeptical look in the rearview mirror, but pulls into traffic without comment.

When Geralt steps inside the club, he understands the driver’s reaction. The Nightingale is patronized almost exclusively by men—men drinking together at the bar, men necking at candlelit tables, men dancing swaying slowly on the dancefloor in each other’s arms. Geralt has hardly lived a sheltered life, nor is he innocent of the breadth and variety of desire, but he’s never seen anything like this. It tugs at something behind his sternum, an ache he hasn’t let himself feel in a long time—not lust, which is a familiar enough companion, but longing. And onstage, sitting atop the sleek black piano under the spotlight, is Jaskier.

“My heart should be well schooled,” he sings, “’cause I’ve been fooled in the past.” He looks different here than he did at the Last Rose—and not only his clothes. Though the sleek suit the color of the midnight sky does make a change. Jaskier’s face is just as boyishly handsome, his voice just as smooth and sultry as Geralt remembers. The real difference is in his demeanor. Where his persona in rehearsal this morning was brashly flirtatious, here Jaskier is sensual and languorous and just a little bit sad. “But still I fall in love too easily,” he sings, with a wry, melancholy smile in his voice. “I fall in love too fast.”

Applause breaks out across the club as Geralt weaves through the crowd, sticking to the shadows at the edge of the room. He can’t risk Jaskier spotting him and bolting a second time.

“I don’t know about you all,” Jaskier says to the audience, “but I really do have the most atrocious track record when it comes to affairs of the heart.” The crowd laughs knowingly.

Geralt sneaks up the steps at the far side of the stage, and slips the stagehand standing there the last cash in his wallet to let him watch from the wings. It must happen often enough, because the man doesn’t even give him a second thought, and when he gets backstage, Geralt can see why. From close up, he can see that Jaskier’s suit shimmers subtly under the lights, and that he has a fine rim of kohl around his dark-lashed eyes. The sight makes Geralt’s mouth go dry.

“It’s such a nuisance, this vital organ,” Jaskier’s saying. “It goes too fast, then it goes too slow. They’re not in love with me, or by the time they are, I’m not in love with them. And you know, this heart of mine is always falling for the most unsuitable of people. I like to tell myself I’m a man of discerning taste, but, well, I’m sure there are a few of you here tonight who know better.”

The audience’s laughter is warm, self-deprecating. Jaskier’s at home with this crowd. It’s still an act he’s putting on, just like the one he was putting on at the Last Rose—or the one he used in his dressing room with Geralt, for that matter—but this one feels truer, or at least as if he’s exposing some vulnerable part of himself. In the corner of his vision, Geralt is half-aware of a change occurring in the crowd on the dance floor, but he can hardly take his eyes of Jaskier.

“But, oh, who am I kidding? It doesn’t take much to get my heart beating faster, and I’m not going to waste my time feeling bad about that, not when there are so many better things to do.” He flashes the audience a wicked grin that garners him a wolf whistle from someone in the crowd.

The pianist starts the next melody. Jaskier adjusts his position on the edge of the piano, recrossing his legs, and begins to sing again.

Geralt lets the sweet, resonant sound of Jaskier’s voice wash over him. Watching Jaskier as he sings “you make me smile with my heart” proves to be too much for Geralt, so he turns to look out into the crowd, wondering what it would be like to be one of the men on the dance floor—so certain of his own desires, so at home in the casual intimacy of someone else’s arms thrown around his neck. Even with Yennefer, it was never easy. Loving her was hard work—is hard work, since he has to admit his own foolish heart doesn’t seem able to learn its lesson—and even when they were good together, he had to fight against every instinct in his body to let himself relax into her touch. He can’t imagine what it would feel like to hold someone in his arms and think, unequivocally, Yes, this is right.

Geralt is so wrapped up in his own self-pity that he almost doesn’t notice the man pushing his way through the crowd of dancers—the man in the stark black suit with the feather in his hat. But when the man’s hand reaches into his jacket, Geralt snaps to attention.

“Stay, little Valentine,” Jaskier croons, just before the shot rings out.

Part seven

#the witcher #witcher #geralt #geralt of rivia #jaskier #mousesack #renfri #renfri of creyden #stregobor #geraskier #geralion #gerlion #geralt x jaskier #some background yennalt here #witcher au #noir au #witcher noir au #i've got 99 problems and aus are all of them

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harianadimples · 5 years

Text

Highlight of My Life

Warning: none 3.0k+: fluff, university!au (harry is a fashion design major; y/n is an english major)

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“So, what’s so special about this new collection? Don’t you already have like three of her highlighters at home?” Harry asks, sounding genuinely curious and interested.

“New shades. I love the formula. I’m wearing hustla baby on my cheeks today, see,” she says as she tilts her cheek for Harry who nods intently. “I like that one, it’s like subtle. Makes me look like a glazed donut. I love glazed donuts,” he trails off.

“It’s my every day, go-to, I want to blind everyone I encounter on campus, highlighter,” she laughs. “I’ve hit pan on that one I might get the mini of it. It comes with a mini gloss bomb you can have so you can stop stealing mine.”

“Thanks. There’s that highlighter I really liked, the one you put on my eyes before,” Harry says.

“Trophy wife?”

“Yeah, but no, I was thinking of the pink one?”

Confusion sticks to them both. They stare at each other for a while, combining both their sleep-deprived braincells together to figure out what Harry was talking about.

“Highlight of My Life”

The one where Fenty Beauty is launching a new highlighter collection and the Sephora downtown is doing an event for it where the first hundred people get a goodie bag so Y/N makes Harry wake up at 6 a.m. for its 10 a.m. opening. The things Harry does for the person he loves.

-:-:-:-

“Remind me why you had me wake up at six in the morning and drive you all the way downtown on my off day?”

Harry’s tone is chastising, which was amusing to Y/N when they were pulling out of their shared apartment, but now that they’ve been sat in the car for a while and it’s probably the fiftieth time he’s asked, she’s a little annoyed. Still, she can’t fully commit to being annoyed by Harry for too long. As she looks up from her phone, turning to Harry who’s looking at her expectantly for an answer, his tired eyes sunken in by his interrupted sleep and his mouth looking all pink and plushy, she finds herself completely endeared by his prettiness and quickly lets it go.

Harry gulps down the rest of his coffee, chasing the dryness of the caffeinated beverage with more gulps from her water. He’s watching her, and can tell from how her eyes momentarily dart to the right of her, that she’s thinking of something witty to say.

“Cause you love me,” Y/N pouts in a sweet, singsongy voice, the voice he’s more than aware that she uses when she’s playfully manipulating him into doing something she wants, such as, waking up at six in the morning to drive her downtown.

Harry’s eyes quickly express how nonsensensical her response is though she still finds him endearing, which makes her press her thumb over his puffed, water-filled cheeks. “And,” she continues, “because Rihanna is launching a new highlighter collection and the Sephora downtown is holding an event for it. If you’re within the first hundred people there you get a goodie bag.”

“Will Rihanna be there?” Harry asks. His question resonates through a single monotone note.

“No, I think it’s just the store doing something for the collection launch. She does proper parties for influencers and celebrity friends ahead of releases too but, there’s no way we’d get invited to one any time soon,” she sighs.

“When’s the store opening?” Harry asks, glancing at the time on the dashboard. “We’ve been here since eight-twenty.”

“Ten,” Y/N sighs as she glances at her phone again. “At least we got here early enough before a line started. We can eat while we wait.” She gestures to their breakfast: two large coffees and a sandwich to share between them because $7.99 for an ‘Artisan’ sandwich sounded almost blasphemous for the two uni students.

“When you see someone approaching the front, forming some kind of line, let me know,” she says as Harry nods, taking a bite from the sandwich as he looks to the front of the car.

“So, what’s so special about this new collection? Don’t you already have like three of her highlighters at home?” Harry asks, sounding genuinely curious and interested.

“Thanks. There’s that highlighter I really liked, the one you put on my eyes before,” Harry says.

“Trophy wife?”

“Yeah, but no, I was thinking of the pink one?”

Confusion sticks to them both. They stare at each other for a while, combining both their sleep-deprived braincells together to figure out what Harry was talking about.

“Oh, Wattabrat!” Y/N says with realization.

“Watt-a-brat. Yeah that one. I just love the name. She’s brilliant with the shade names,” he says. “If I could I’d name a shade Styles.”

“Just Styles?” Y/N raises an eyebrow at her boyfriend who nods thoughtfully. “Yeah it’s not product-specific and it’s kind of a great name, don’t ya think?”

“Well, I think the word Styles existed long before you did,” she says, laughing, “but it’s very on-brand for you to name something after you if you ever consider expanding your fashion brand into more business ventures. But you should call the full collection itself ‘Styles’. It’d be like when a musician releases a self-titled album. And the songs in this case would be the shade names, and they can be named after things important to you or whatever you think sounds cool.”

Harry nods thoughtfully, staring at the cup as Y/N drinks from her coffee. He waits until it’s far enough from her face to take it from her and drink from it as well. She takes it back before he’s even done, smiling as she playfully pushes his outstretched hand away. He sighs and takes their sandwich and bites into it.

“Did you finish the paper for Rockwell’s class?” Y/N asks him.

“Yeah, I stayed up until one writing it. Haven’t gotten a chance to edit it yet, I planned on doing it later, but… maybe you could look at it first?” Harry figures he might as well ask, otherwise what’s the point in having a girlfriend who majors in English literature.

“Sure,” Y/N nods, frowning sympathetically as she hands him her coffee. She recalls the night before, going to bed before him while he sat at their kitchen island hunched over his laptop. The screen, even at its lowest level, still bright enough to cast a silhouette on his figure. She remembers not hearing him come in, but feeling the bed dip all of a sudden as he indiscreetly fell into bed, throwing his leg (and cold feet) over her legs while his arm draped over her middle.

Y/N could tell Harry’s been stressed lately because of midterms. She figures it’s especially difficult since it’s their final year and naturally everything is that more stress inducing. There’s few areas here and there where Y/N can lend her assistance and support since she’s in a different program.

Harry is in the fashion design program so he hardly has any courses in the English program, but they happen to be taking The Language of Love, Sex and Gender english course this semester and are in the same class. Despite them both being natural creatives this is her comfort zone and where she naturally shines. Harry used to have a habit of over-saturating his brand descriptions with hyperbolic terms and (sometimes) useless jargon that wouldn’t captivate the eye of a prospective consumer. She does nothing but read and write for her english courses, and occasionally prepares presentations or paragraphs for class discussions, so, if she can help Harry in any way, it’s helping him with his writing. She merely helps him rephrase his thoughts from a different perspective she felt would be more hard-hitting. In return, he gives her style advice and occassionally styles her himself (he has an eye for pieces that suit her and flatter which are her weaker qualities). Harry swears that her dedication to an oversized sweater of his that she wears nearly every day with a pair of boots is the bane of his existence.

They had met in the School of Fashion Design building at the end of their second year.

A mutual friend of theirs in the photography program had included several images of her in a pop-up exhibition held by several students from the program, and she was invited to attend. Harry had come as well and was with a girl he’d been seeing for a while. Harry wouldn’t be able to tell you the name of the girl he’d been seeing, because he swears that the moment he saw Y/N he’d fallen in love. She’d come in a Guy Fieri type collared shirt that was about five-sizes too big, and black platform shoes.

‘I liked that you didn’t give a fuck,’ Harry once explained when she had asked him why he became interested in her after they became friends.

Yet she remembers that he often teased her for her sense of style, taunting her for her lack of pants (she wears bike shorts underneath) or the lack of change to her silhouette (what, she likes it, why change it), but now she relays the same comments in a self-deprecating way. Somewhere between then and now their sense of humour had evolved, as did their relationship. Her style for one thing has evolved, but she’s still dedicated to her brand of oversized clothing for their comfort and Harry hardly teases her except for when he needs a lead-in to ask her to fuck him.

‘I don’t remember ever making fun of you for never wearing pants when you wear my clothes out,’ Harry would say, but his words held as much truth as a ‘my truth’ post-scandal video.

It never actually bothered her, because she knew from being friends with Harry for a while that his humour tended to lean on ignoring the obvious and being heavily sarcastic. Like the time she was nervous about showing him her work and had him read a poem she wrote in her senior year of high school which won her an award, and he told her it was ‘terrible’ and that she should consider dropping out.

‘I couldn’t write this good until this year, I swear,’ Harry had scoffed.

‘This well…’ she had corrected him.

Their dynamic was pretty much set in stone that day too. Y/N tended to be the one riddled with self-doubt and low self-esteem from her overthinking, overly intuitive brain making her second guess a lot of things, while Harry brings out what it’s true in what she believes about herself by ignoring the obvious, making her think for herself; a surprisingly productive way to get her to remember her worth and talent. And sometimes, when he’s being too cocky, she’ll knock him down a peg.

But clearly their dynamic has evolved as well, because she finds herself being the one to remind Harry ‘who the fuck he is’ (as Harry fondly says when he’s in this position trying to uplift her) and Harry’s humour has spread to her as well. She doesn’t spare any opportunities to tell Harry that she loves him, and to remind him that she’s only with him because ‘one day he’ll be a fashion designer for socialites and the Hollywood elite, and she’ll take her one connection and run with it straight into Keanu Reeves’ arms’ (obviously she’s only kidding…unless…).

In the one class they share the midterm is a take-home exam in the form of an essay question. Harry’s a decent writer, having been cordially assisted by Y/N before they were dating until now, to better himself and tweak his style to be less robotic and more human. He really shouldn’t be worried about doing poorly on the paper, but his fashion design senior project is part of his requirement to graduate and has drained him of most of his creative energy, making it difficult to piece together intellectual thoughts into a riveting paper.

His brain must look like a prune by now. He mustered whatever was left and squeezed it onto that horrendous paper. He just knows it’s horrendous. He didn’t have the heart or energy to re-read it, opting instead to get some sleep, forget about it for the day, then return to it in the afternoon.

Of course now he’s here in the car, having been woken up at six in the morning by his overly perky girlfriend cutting off his air supply, yammering on about some makeup thing. All cynicism aside, it’s making for a reasonable distraction for not working on his paper. He’d still prefer to be at home, asleep, cuddling his girl, but he figures any way he spends time with her is good enough. He hardly sees her during the day given that they’re not in the same program, but he sees her every night which is not among his list of complaints.

Realistically, she could have come downtown alone, but Harry and her both knew how much she hated commuting. It seemed really important for Y/N to be here, who Harry knew was also dealing with her own slew of stressful days full of due dates and expectations, so he caved.

‘Makeup is just really therapeutic to me. When I do my skincare and do my makeup, I’m kind of meditating at the same time. When I see the finished product I feel confident and ready to take on the day… once I get my iced coffee, of course,’ Y/N explained to him once when he’d asked her about her interest in it.

He knows most of that was true though he recalls one time, finding her in their bathroom, sitting in their sink, sobbing while doing her makeup, blending her tears into her skin. It was quite the picture for Harry to see, and he’d taken off her makeup for her (against her insistence that she was fine and needed to finish getting ready) since it’d been ruined anyway, and decided that that day would be a mental-health day for her and brought her back to bed.

He re-did her skincare for her, sitting next to her body as she told him what products to use and in what order. He used mostly the length of his fingers and finger tips to work the products into her skin because his hands were much too large for her face and he was afraid of messing something up.

It somehow became a tradition for them to have a self-care day, pampering themselves with skin care, a bottle of white champagne and take-out from their favourite restaurant after one of them has a breakdown.

Harry reckons he’s due for one, but nothing has come up to push him over the edge yet. Sometimes, before he could exhaust his brain into that state, Y/N would figure out some way to save him from himself, reminding him who the fuck he is.

“Hey,” Harry hears Y/N speak. He looks up, humming thoughtfully as he meets her gaze. Her cheek rests on the seat as she speaks, “I love you.”

“I love you too,” Harry smiles, as he kisses her. “Even though you woke me up at an ungodly hour.”

“Heeey,” she pouts, “you better keep that same energy with our baby.”

“You’re having my baby?” Harry’s mouth suddenly dries, and he must look foolish with his eyes bugging out the way they are, because what–.

“Oh– I was kidding!” Y/N quickly shakes her head as Harry shuts his eyes for a moment. “Y/N,” he mumbles, drawing out each syllable of her name.

“I’m sorry,” she giggles, trailing off, “it was a joke.”

“Please. I was about to have a full on breakdown,” Harry mutters.

“You don’t want a baby with me?” She asks candidly, looking at Harry who hasn’t opened his eyes. She wonders if he’s fallen asleep because he isn’t moving. She pokes his face to make sure. “Harry, don’t you wanna put a baby in me? You say that every time we have sex,” she teases him as Harry snorts through his nose, which her finger takes most of the damage from.

Harry’s eyes flutter open again at the sound of Y/N’s squealing as she wipes her hand on his leg. He laughs at the reaction he receives from her which brings that adorable angry pout on her face.

“Obviously the objective still stands, just not right now. I also, for a second, believed you had the audacity to tell me you’re pregnant while we’re waiting for Sephora to open because you wanted to be early for a Fenty Beauty goodie bag,” Harry says as Y/N continues to pout, though her brief frustration subsides, making her look more like a puppy yearning to be pet, so he kisses her pout figuring that’s close enough.

“Don’t worry, you’ll know I’m having your baby because I’m literally the worst at keeping secrets from you, or maybe you just know me too well,” Y/N says thoughtfully as she looks at Harry.

“I think the growing bump will give it away, but okay, that too,” Harry says.

“We won’t be apart like this once we graduate. You’ll have no excuse to avoid me, so you won’t miss the moment I find out I’m pregnant the way you missed me learning that I got that internship I was trying for,” Y/N laughs.

“I was stuck in traffic, and you’re much too impatient!” Harry shakes his head. “Whatever, we still celebrated that night though.”

“And the next morning,” Y/N hums.

“Hey, I think they’re here for the event,” Harry points towards a group of three, all of them wearing full-glam which sets of Y/N’s fight or flight response. Harry sees her entire demeanour change as she quickly grabs her water and stuffs it into her bag before kissing Harry goodbye. “I’ll go wait in line for us. You go ahead and get some more sleep and I’ll call or text you,” Y/N tells him in one breath before shutting the door.

He chuckles as he watches her run like Bambi ahead of the group, taking her place at the front of the line that formed once the three others stood with her. She throws him two thumbs up and a toothy grin, clearly proud of herself for being the first in line. It’s highly amusing to Harry to see her so excited, but mostly he’s happy to see her so happy.

| – | – | – |

Hello, thank you for reading ! I’m a huge supporter of the idea of Harry wearing makeup, from soft-glam to highly conceptual Louvre worthy looks, so this was written out of that love of mine and my wish to one day beat Harry’s face the house down boots. I was also inspired by my literal desire to buy more makeup, but can’t, because I have loans to pay back, bills to pay 💀

Anyway, hope you enjoyed this one ♡

+ masterlist

#harry styles #harry styles one shot #harry one shot #harry styles imagine #harry imagine #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles fanfic #harry styles fluff #harry styles writing #harry styles concept #one direction fanfic #one direction fanfiction #1d fanfic #1d fanfiction #writing

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