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ghetto-omega · 1 month

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‎❀‎✿❀Pup headcanons❀✿❀

One thing about me is if I can make it animalistic, I will. With that being said...

This post was supposed to take me an hour max. Tell me why I started working on this at like 9pm and it is currently 130am and I'm still not done yet 😐👎🏾

this took too long

Here's your warning 🌸well formatted long post incoming 🌸

‎‧₊˚✿General✿˚₊‧

It's considered inhumane to separate a pup from their family before they can scent other people as well as be scented

Pups need a lot more protein than adults do

Normally a litter contains 2-3 pups, but having more or less isn't uncommon, I will say having more than 5 is practically unheard of

As pups grow older they lose a lot of the body language that they used as kids, they don't really need a lot of it as they progress into adulthood

That's not to say people don't keep a few of their childhood quirks though

I think pups in omegaverse tend to do a lot of developmental things earlier than actual children lol things like crawling, walking, etc

For a lot of their childhood they don't have their own scent they just smell like their parents, possibly their entire pack depending on the dynamics, so scenting them doesn't really... Stick

Since omegaverse relies so heavily on non verbal cues, body language, and noises that aren't words, it's important that pups are heavily (but gradually) socialized as early as 10 months

‎‧₊˚✿Newborns✿˚₊‧

Pups aren't born blind but they are born with anosmia (can't smell, poor thang) but overtime the ability gets stronger, and jumpstarts when they get their first heat/rut

Instinctually have body language and noises signalling they don't like something or are unhappy

Newborns sometimes learn to growl before even leaving the hospital

Smell like their parents, don't have a scent of their own

The bigger the litter the smaller the babies tend to be

‎‧₊˚✿Babies✿˚₊‧

Babies sometimes learn to bare their teeth before they smile, which is equally as cute tbh

𑁍 4-6 months

Begin to smell like their pack as well as their parents, but still don't actually have a scent of their own

They bite their parents/packs stuff frequently. Sometimes that means putting someone's favorite book in their mouths or trying their very best to take a big bite out of someone's arm

Normally start crawling by about 5-6months and walking isn't far behind

This is also about the time they start to have very small bits of solid foods, especially things containing soy, or just yogurt is a good choice

𑁍 7-9 months

Will start to get territorial. Will cry if other people are in the house for too long, or throw tantrums if that person touches their parents or a toy, might even start hiding toys from their pack if it's perceived as theirs

Should be somewhat competent at walking by the time 9 months hits, may also start biting and tearing at furniture at this time

This is also a great time to introduce bite sized soft meats

Socializing pups has started to become crucial to development here, meeting people outside of their pack is now becoming important

𑁍 10-12 months

Teething is a pretty bad experience for pups. Sharp teeth piercing gums hurts a lot. Don't be surprised if they already have a couple teeth by this time

Teething may also set back pups from speaking for a while, most people aren't much inclined to talk (or learn how to talk) when their mouth hurts

By this time they probably have a favorite scent or smell. Don't be surprised if it's a food or a perfume that someone in their pack wears. They still can't really smell the scents of the people around them, but scents and pheromones have a lot of sway a pups development

Are yipping and yowling by 12 months, as well as engaging in healthy rough and tumble

Separation anxiety is also to be expected

‎‧₊˚✿Toddlers✿˚₊‧

𑁍 1-3 years

Toddlers sometimes talk later than they should and speak almost exclusively through body language and a few open mouthed sounds so their teeth don't click together

They're probably gonna have over exaggerated body language. Instead of just tilting their head to the side to show curiosity they might practically bend at the waist or throw themselves to the ground entirely

Their nails harden and begin becoming claws, will soon begin to scratch on harder things to experiment with a different type of cause and effect, as well sensory experiences

Beginning playdates with pups around the same age is recommended, as well as giving them a security object of their choice that's heavily scented by their pack

By 3 is using those new claws to dig into whatever possible and climb as high as they can. Pup proofing is a must.

May crouch onto all fours when they run, and may have trouble losing momentum when they go too fast resulting in a lot of falls

Teething should be basically done by now and speaking should be back on track or jumpstarted in a couple months

Territorialness should be calming down. They should stop outwardly objecting to foreign people and objects being in their space

𑁍 4-5 years

Should begin to use more vocal communication beside their spoken and body language (like yipping, yowling, chuffing, and in some instances barking or howling)

Will also repeat sounds or actions that typically belong to omegas, betas, alphas, or all three despite not having matured yet

They should also start copying the motions to scent people, and it is advised to correct them when they do the motions in inappropriate situations

‎‧₊˚✿Children✿˚₊‧

𑁍 6-8 years

So much yipping. When they play. When they're sad. When they're bored. When they're hurt. Especially if they're particularly vocal.

Nose is finally sensitive enough to pick up on natural scents and pheromones. Might start telling you that someone stinks in inappropriate settings

Is just barely beginning to develop their own scent by 7, and is able to scent and be scented by 8

It's very common for pups to play too rough. Playdates ending with a little blood isn't anything to worry about unless it's actually excessive

Pups lick everything and anything possible, especially if it has an odd smell, they should basically be grown out of it by about middle school age tho

‎‧₊˚✿Preteen✿˚₊‧

𑁍 9-12 years

Should start to present somewhere in this time frame.

Their scent should be fully developed by 12.

Should understand scenting and begin to understand the difference between their primary and secondary gender

Physical insecurities are beginning to pop up

Pheromones become more active and passive discussions about scent blockers should begin soon

They'll probably be pretty active, and easily become stir crazy

They should start using words more than vocalisation and purposeful body language

Pups who develop early may get their heats/ruts at this time

Some may begin to start branching away from the pack and subconsciously looking to start another one

‎‧₊˚✿Teenager✿˚₊‧

𑁍 13-18 years

First heat/ruts tend to occur around 13-15 years old

Omegas tend to mature first

Litter mates tend to mature one after the other, sometimes with only days between each other

By this point scent glands and sense of smell should be fully developed

Minor vocalisation will progress into adulthood and any purposefully telegraphed body language should become second nature to them

Many pups display highly aggressive behavior or displeased scents for many of their teen years. Without proper stress relief moodiness and build up in their scent glands is common

this was not meant to be this long but thanks for reading y'all :3 if you see spelling/grammar mistakes uhm.... no you didn't </3

#omegaverse worldbuilding #omegaverse #a/b/o #a/b/o dynamics #a/b/o verse #alpha beta omega #i didnt mean to get so. uhm. specific. my bad guys.#warning i am not an... anthropologist but i AM doing my best if that makes a difference 😭#𑁍shii's verse𑁍#omegaverse headcanons #omegaverse au #i am posting without proof reading don't @ me #a/b/o lifestyle #omegaverse lifestyle

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unknownfacelessfanfictions · 8 months

Note

Heya! Can you make a cute short fic with Q? I've been obsessed with him lately, anything should be perfect!

Cultural Differences

Pairing: Q x fem!reader Fandom: Star Trek: The Next Generation Words: 2K Warnings: Hurt/Comfort Summary: Sometimes it is better to ask for the reason for an extraterrestrial ritual. Often it is better to do this before the ritual, otherwise you will come back with an omnipotent being as your husband. A/N: Thank you so much for your request, I really hope you like it. I feel like this is not the best thing I've ever written, because I find Q difficult to write, but I really tried.

Frowning, she stared at him from narrowed eyes as she did her best to remain calm and stop herself from smacking the smug grin off his face: " I'm sorry, what?" She truly hoped she had misheard and the all-knowing being/her lover before her, had not said what she thought she had heard. "I asked when the honeymoon was scheduled to start." She was pretty sure the confusion on her face was more than evident. "Where the hell did you come up with honeymoon? You do know what that is, don't you?"

Offended, Q pursed his mouth and jumped up, clapping his hands. "Mon amour, you insult me. Of course I know what a honeymoon is. I am Q, I know everything." He stepped towards her, bent down to take her face in his hands, and smiled his most charming smile, which usually made her heart pound, but now more than upset her. "It's a time for a newly married couple, to spend together." He pulled her up an

With great effort, she tried not to let her shudder show and looked up at him sceptically. "Have you not noticed your mistake, O all-knowing Q?" Her voice was mocking, something she would never have dared to do in his presence at the beginning of their acquaintance, for fear of being turned into a frog. "Maybe I'll have to give you a bit of a jolt: Newly. Married. Only people who have just got married go on honeymoons. We're together, not married, Q."

Now it was up to him to look confused, an expression she rarely saw on his face, and would have more than enjoyed under other circumstances. "We ... are, though?" "Oh," she laughed out, having to hold onto the top of his uniform to keep from falling. "Oh no, we're not. Believe me, my dear, I would remember such a ceremony." A frown took up residence on his face and slowly her laughter died away. "But... you said that you ..." Q seemed distracted and instantly she felt bad and took his hand.

"Hey. I'm sorry if I hurt your feelings, honey. I didn't mean to say I wouldn't. It's just..." Q interrupted her. "The ceremony was three hours ago. How can you not remember that?" "What?" All humour had disappeared and she was back to confusion. "Q three hours ago we were on the planet doing this strange water ritual that the inhabitants insisted on because they believed we were the incarnations of the divine royal pair before the Captain had had a chance to... oh my God."

She stared at him from widened eyes. "Q. Please tell me we didn't get married down there." He fell silent. "Q!" "You told me not to tell you," he returned, staring at the floor in a huff, his arms crossed in front of his chest and his mouth twisted into a pout.

She was at a loss for words. Of course she loved him, they had been together for years, but this? A wedding? Without even knowing about it? She sank down on the sofa and lowered her head into her hands. Now even the stupid grin from him, throughout the ceremony made sense, or the surprisingly passionate kiss after it. For a few minutes Q was actually silent before he spoke up again. "I thought you knew." His voice was low and he sounded guilty, a register of voice she had never heard on him before. She looked up. "How the hell could I have known about this! It was a first contact mission! I thought it was some kind of welcoming ritual."

"Aren't you the ship's anthropologist?" Gradually she became more agitated and jumped up. "I like to say it again, FIRST CONTACT MISSION!!! We knew nothing about the planet except that it was warp capable, though still believed in the old gods. That was it. How was I supposed to know about this ritual?" Q started to reply, however, she waved it off with a snort. "You can save that." With long strides she walked over to her door. "Where are you going?" "To blow off steam," she hissed back, giving him a cold look as he tried to follow her. "Alone."

He stuck his chest out and leaned down to her. "I am a Q. You cannot command me mortal." His words hurt more than she had believed, yet she only jutted her chin. "Stay away from me and leave me alone for this moment so I can think or I swear I will never speak another word to you." She was angry and Q knew it, however he didn't seem to believe her. "You wouldn't be able to bear that. You love me too much for that."

All he earned was another cold stare before she continued her way down the corridor. "Mon amour?" His call reached her ears before the turbolift doors closed, yet she did not respond. For the moment, she needed her peace. Apparently Q seemed to have realised that too, because contrary to her expectations, he had not followed her into the lift, for which she was grateful to him. Q had been right. She would never in her life be able to stand not talking to him again.

Her path led her to the botanical garden and only there, on one of the benches, hidden behind one of the huge rhododendron bushes, did she allow her frustration and fear and all her other feelings to run free and ruffle her hair. Married! Her! To Q!

She wasn't arrogant enough not to admit that she hadn't imagined it at least once, however, she had usually swept those ideas aside quickly because the idea was ridiculous. Q, the Q, capricious, omnipotent and as old as time itself, as a husband who dutifully waits at home for his wife to come home, with meals cooked and quarters freshly cleaned? If she hadn't felt so much like crying, she would have laughed. Just the idea of Q in a relationship was bizarre and she was the other part of that relationship.

"Are you all right?" Startled, she started up and looked into the questioning and kind face of the android in gold uniform who was looking at her. "You look like you are not well and as a friend, I was wondering if I could offer my help." A small smile crept onto her lips. Data really was a case in point.

Sighing, she shook her head. "I'm afraid not, my friend. This is a problem between me and Q." "Ah." Data tilted his head in understanding. "You are experiencing emotional misery due to a problem in your relationship." He settled down on the bench beside her after a moment's consideration. "However, I am sure that you will overcome this crisis, as you did the many crises before it."

She glanced to the side. "I'm not so sure about that. This isn't about a prank being played or the fact that he thinks I'm a little too reckless on missions." She swallowed. "When we were on this planet, before you could bring us up, we had to participate in a ritual that was apparently a wedding ceremony. And he knew, but didn't say anything!" Date nodded slowly. "And you are upset because you do not want a marriage with him." "What? No!" "So you do desire this marriage with him?" "No!"

Data looked confused. "So you do not wish for marriage, but equally you wish for it." Again she sighed. "Data, I'm not mad about the wedding itself. I mean, sure I'm a little pissed about that too, but it's much more the fact that he didn't tell me." "You feel like he took away your choice." "Maybe." "Have you talked to him about it?"

She stared at the floor in front of her. "Not really. I rather... well... rushed out of our quarters because I needed time to myself." Data hummed in agreement and rose. "Perhaps you should talk to him about it then. Counselor Troi has explained to me that the key to a good relationship and marriage, is communication." She winced slightly at the word 'marriage', but still had to smile at the idea that her synthetic boyfriend had received relationship advice from the ship's Counselor. Whatever for. "Perhaps."

Data nodded goodbye and left her alone. For a few minutes she tried to compose herself before she spoke his name softly, barely audible. "Q." Within a split second he appeared in a flash of light before her, on his knees and his hands held into a praying pose. "Mon étoile, please forgive me. I promise you, I really believed you knew." He almost hugged her legs. "Please don't leave me alone. I can't stand this without you. I'm sorry, I really am. Tell me what you want me to do. Whatever you want me to do, I'll do it."

Shocked, she stared down at him. "Q, you haven't been alone for fifteen minutes!" Q just shook his head. "Fifteen minutes too long." She sighed and gently tugged at his curls to lift his gaze to her. "I want to talk to you. And for that, you need to be calm. Sit down, please." She gestured to the seat next to her where Data had been sitting until just a moment ago and Q complied with her request almost instantly, even seeming nervous by his standards, which made her feel a tiny bit guilty since she had never seen him so upset.

There was silence between them before Q dared to raise his voice. "Are you still angry with me?" "I don't think so." She shook her head and folded her hands in her lap. "I'm disappointed, though, Q." He let out a small whimper. "That's almost worse." "Q, I want you to understand that I'm not necessarily upset because we got married. To be honest, it's something I personally wouldn't object to." She reached for his hand and ran her thumb over the back of it. "It's how that bothers me."

"I know you believed I knew. Still, you should have asked me Q, at least to be sure. By not doing so, you took away my chance to make a decision. Not that I would have said 'no' to a wedding," she added quickly when she saw the sad expression on his face. "However, I would have preferred that if we had decided to get married, that it happened with the full and conscious consent of both of us, in the presence of the people we care about. And not on a foreign planet, surrounded by strangers who think we are incarnations of their gods."

Carefully, she pressed a kiss to the back of his hand. "I love you Q, I really do. But you must understand my point of view."

For a few moments Q was silent before he nodded slowly. "I understand you, mon amour. And I'm sorry. I should have asked and made sure you knew what you were getting into. I should have thought about the consequences my actions could bring instead of just thinking about myself and the opportunity I was presented with." "You should have," she admitted, smiling gently at him.

He smiled slightly sheepishly and she thought she had rarely seen him so shy and vulnerable. "If it makes you feel any better, the Ajghasti ceremony is not legal under Federation law anyway. So strictly speaking, we're not married after all." Relieved, she exhaled. "Thank heavens for that. I really hadn't wanted to get married like this." Q glanced to the side and she could tell he was trying to mask his hurt, so she leaned closer and rested her head on his shoulder.

"I'd really rather marry you in a decent way, surrounded by friends and family and who knows. Maybe I can get the Captain convinced to perform the ceremony." By now Q was staring at her wide-eyed. "Unless you've had enough of married life after all, after just over three hours of it."

Q jumped up, pulling her with him and twirling her around as a laugh escaped him. "Oh, mon amour, you shouldn't have said that. Now I guarantee you won't get rid of me." Dizzy from the spinning, she clung to his arms and smiled up at him. She was sure the heat had darkened her cheeks, however, her eyes shone with joy where a few minutes ago there had been anger "That was the plan."

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@bigblissandlove1

#star trek #star trek tng #star trek the next generation #star trek x reader #tng x reader #q #q star trek #q x reader #q x reader star trek #q x reader tng

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x-reader-things · 7 months

Note

Hi!!! I was the one who requested the jealous Ezra x reader fic!

My request was Ezra being jealous around the best friend that is a boy (IDK if that was the original prompt but here it is!)

Thank you so much!

Thank YOU so much - especially for requesting again, I am so sorry that it got deleted-

I think it had something to do with being jealous and protective but I’ll just merge the two.

I hope you enjoy!

“Best friend or not.”

Ezra Bridger x Fem!Reader [romantic]

Summary ; In which Ezra is denying his jealousy, and gets protective of you after a mission.

Requested? ; Yes

Warnings ; A bit of canonical type violence, reader’s best friend is a bit of an asshole, and mentions and of assimilation and depictions of losing important items of cultures.

Word Count ; 3.8 k

——————————————————————

Ezra Bridger is never really one to be jealous.

Sure, he had bouts of it when he first met Sabine. Mainly vying for her attention instead of it being on others out of pure admiration, mistaking it for a crush. And sure, you were jealous of it back then too. But that was before you realized that Sabine was cool, and before he realized that all he wanted was a friend.

Never really had that before he met you and her.

And that, was almost a few years ago.

No, Ezra Bridger was never one to be jealous.

Not in the slightest.

Not at all.

No, he wasn’t drawn to it like a moth is to a flame. He didn’t feel a slow burning pit in the depths of his gut, the simmer of fire licking up the back of his neck. He didn’t feel annoyance ticking in the back of his head with a timer constantly going off and resetting when the feeling settles down. He didn’t roll his eyes every time Linel Rhayme, a pantoran rebel fighter known as the new Pheonix-3, and you were in the same room together. No.

He wasn’t jealous.

I mean, how could he be? You can have other friends. You HAVE had other friends. HE’S had other friends. He can’t be jealous, it’s not possible.

It’s a horrible emotion that Jedi shouldn’t have.

He wasn’t jealous.

——————————————————————

“Ezra! Focus.”, his master sternly said in a low voice, a hand clamping down onto his shoulder with a pressure he knows only as Kanan. Kanan leaned down a bit to make sure Ezra was listening. “Specter-7 will be fine. Now pay attention to this meeting, we have another mission we have to focus on.”

Ezra’s eyes darted away from you loading up Phantom II with supply crates in the distance. Your laugh rang out and echoed softly against the stone walls of the rebel base on Yavin IV, blending into the ambient bustle of noise around the area like a raindrop to a puddle.

Serene and unbothered, unlike the surface tension of the water.

Your pantoran friend laughed along with you, a voice that Ezra immediately tuned out with a quiet huff of breath. His… dislike (not jealousy!) of said rebel allowed him to be drawn back into the meeting at hand, focus no longer split up between two parts of the base.

Linel was assigned another mission along with you and you alone. Something that had to deal with intel and grabbing specific packages of important items that belonged to a few of the cultures being forcefully assimilated into imperial culture.

You, before having joined the Ghost crew at your young age, had been training on your planet to be a cultural anthropologist. You knew a lot of bits and pieces and important information about thousands of different groups along the outer rim, and being in the rebellion helped you hone that ability for even the smallest and most important tasks a rebel could have.

Bringing hope to people that they would stay, and not be completely wiped away from existence due to the Empire.

“Items hold a lot of importance, Ez.” You once told him. “It’s physical evidence of people, and creatures, and even planets alike that they exist. The empire wants to take that away from us too. I think everyone here knows that, to some degree.”

You were definitely an integral part of that mission. And Ezra couldn’t knock that. You would be able to differentiate what came from where, and help other rebels send it back to the places that those items came from.

His problem lies with Linel.

Kind of.

And the fact that you had to get close to Dathomir, where those witch-spirit-things were. And remnants of Night Sisters and who knows what else around the place.

He wished you didn’t need to go.

He wished that his mission with the rest of the ghost crew wasn’t on the opposite end of the Outer Rim.

He wished someone else was going with you, not Linel—

No, no, no.

Stop.

That’s jealousy talking, you aren’t like that Ezra.

He sighed through his nose, thoughts clearing up the more he paid attention to Hera’s instructions on their mission. Infiltrating another important supply run of ammunition that the Empire was sending off to one of the other planets they took.

It was just as important as your mission.

He needed to focus on that.

——————————————————————

The ride back to their temporary home on Yavin IV couldn’t go any slower than it did. The amount of alternate hyperspace routes the Ghost Crew had to take due to an increase of imperial vigilance was both annoying and astounding all on its own.

They - especially Ezra - could only hope that you were alright. You were a great flier, a great fighter even, trained underneath both Hera and Sabine themselves. They all know you can handle the heat when things get tough.

Their questions lie within the realms of of Linel could take it.

Hopefully he should, being a Pheonix-3 fighter who has flown under Hera’s command herself before. She has no doubt that he can handle a flying situation when he’s at the helm.

Of a one-manned ship, that is.

The crew could only hope that nothing went wrong, and things went as smoothly as they usually would go. (Not that smoothly, knowing their luck, but at least smooth enough to make sure you weren’t physically hurt.)

The moment the Ghost docked down on Yavin IV, Ezra quickly got off the ramp once it touched the ground. He jogged over to Aleksandr Kallus once he saw him, and slowed to a stop once he was close enough.

“Hey, Kallus—“, Ezra greeted, a little bit breathless on his rush to get over to him. “—any sign of Spectre-7 and Pheonix-3 yet?”

“Not yet, Bridger,” Kallus told him, earning a frown from Ezra. And a furrowed brow. Odd. But not out of character. “Don’t worry, Spectre-6, they just hit a small snag coming home.”

“Needed to take another hyperspace route, I’m guessing?”

“Not… exactly.”, Kallus sighed, partly out of annoyance. He had a task he had to get to; Ezra was taking up some of his time doing it. “Look, we’ll know properly when they come back. Their comms were a little garbled but I’m sure it’s fine, now, if you excuse me.”

He stepped around Ezra, going off into some other part of the base of his task. Ezra groaned quietly, shaking his head while walking back to the Ghost.

“What’d Kallus say about her?”, Sabine asked him, pushing a crate of unopened ammunitions his way.

Ezra took the floating crate, and moved it to join the pile of other crates in front of them. “Said she hit a snag coming home. They aren’t exactly sure what’s going on, either. Comms weren’t all that clear, apparently.”

“That’s… concerning”, Sabine said. A worried furrow crinkled the skin in between her brows when she took off her mandolorian helmet. She set it against her side with her arm slung over it. “I mean, I’m sure she’s fine and all, but he said nothing else?”

“Not a thing.”, Ezra crossed his arms in front of him, his hands lightly digging into the orange material of his jacket. It wasn’t much of a worried furrow that made his brow angle downwards as much as annoyance. Disdain, almost.

Kallus was still a little iffy on the trusting end for the both of them.

Sabine hummed in thought, eyes boring into the stone ground below them. “I’m sure we’ll figure out more when they both come back. Spectre-7 is always careful, especially on a mission that plays to her strengths. She’ll be ok.”

The mandalorian gave Ezra a comforting pat on the shoulder, one he gratefully took with a small and thankful smile, and walked back onto the ghost. Sabine took another ammunitions crate from Zeb, and pushed it down the ramp towards Ezra. He took the crate from her, looking back and forth between the ghost and where the Phantom II should be showing up, and continued on with his task of putting them all in a pile to be moved.

It should at least give him some time to stay calm. Distracting himself from the horrible flame of an emotion that sparked every time he thought of your mission, and who you were with.

He’s not jealous.

Concerned for your well-being, maybe.

But not jealous.

——————————————————————

A roar of a smaller ship skidding harshly on the stone snapped the whole of the Ghost Crew out of their stupor. Their mundane task of unloading the ship ceased, a whole load of wide eyes - and lenses, in Chopper’s case - staring in a frightful concern at one of the most dangerous landings they’ve seen the Phantom II take yet.

Once the skidding stopped just before a whole weapons unit, the screams of other rebels scrambling away had trickled down into a lot of murmuring. Ezra took the first step and dashed down the ramp of the Ghost ship, followed by other concerned rebels who found their way over to the smoking engines of the Phantom II.

Ezra coughed, covering his nose with his elbow and opened the back door entrance with the force. He didn’t want to waste any time if you were injured.

You and Linel almost stumbled and fell out of the ship, coughs racking through your throats. Smoke billowed out of the back, and there was a chorus of shouts when you both got out of the ship.

“I told you to leave the flying to me—“, you said, wheezing out another cough. You shoved Linel’s side, and you heaved in air. Your hand snapped up to cover a gash - bruise? No, definitely a gash - on your right arm. Ezra was immediately at your other side, his right arm going under your left to help you up better.

Your tired eyes met his with a thankful nod, and he nodded back at you. The both of you turned towards Linel once he started speaking.

“I’m a better flyer than you! I fly more than you on the daily, Y/n!”, he snapped back, also wheezing out the smoke from his lungs. You scoffed at his words and stumbled a step closer towards your friend.

“Woah, careful—“, Ezra began. He promptly shut up the moment your accusatory finger from your injured arm pointed up at the pantoran.

“Shut up, Linel, I fly the Phantom II WAY more than you do. You had no idea what the hell you were doing when those damn imperials got there!”

Ezra blinked. He - wasn’t expecting the amount of disdain in your voice. The amount of venom spouting through your words and weaving through the air like an uncomfortable blanket.

“You wanted to take things slow, that’s not how I do things—”, Linel started.

“YOU COSTED US THOSE CRATES!”

“YOU WERE TOO SLOW—“

“ALRIGHT, ALRIGHT - THAT’S ENOUGH, YOU TWO”, shouted another voice. Ezra, Linel, and you all flinched. Hera’s voice rung out in stern chords, silencing the yells that began to echo across the base. “That’s enough. Ezra, I want you to take Spectre-7 to the medical bay while Pheonix-3 tells me his version of what happened. Chopper, I need you to run specs on Phantom II, tell me everything we need to replace or get fixed. Sabine, Zeb and Kanan will go get what’s needed. Spectre-7 I’ll get a recount of your version of events later. Everyone understand me?”

A chorus of ‘Yes sir’s’, and ‘you got it’s’ and warbles from Chopper sounded off. Chopper headed closer to the damaged ship, Sabine, Zeb and Kanan following afterwards. Hera took Linel off to the side and sat him down on an empty crate, prompting him to tell her what happened on the mission.

Meanwhile, after Ezra was certain he glared holes into the back of Linel’s head, he led you carefully to the medical bay of the base. Your arm needed tending to, and he wanted - no, needed - to make sure you were ok.

——————————————————————

“Alright, Spectre-7”, Hera began, walking into the room of the medical bay you resided in for the moment. “Spill. What happened during the mission?”

Ezra finished tugging the last of the bandage over the gash on your arm, and tucked the last sliver of gauze underneath the rest of it. You glanced over and let out a sigh, your eyes settling in on staring down at Hera’s shoes.

“The mission started off as planned.”, you started. Your good hand lightly picked at a rip against the seam of your pants, thick material rough against the tips of your fingers. They were comfier than they looked, that’s for sure.

“We got out of hyperspace near Dathomir, hid behind one of the asteroids nearby and cloaked our signature. The pirate ship - not from anyone we knew, that’s for sure - docked on the light cruiser and we flew close by and attached to the pirate ship as planned. Sabine’s implant on the ship from a couple weeks ago worked, we didn’t need to contact them inside. Bounty hunters were distracted, bucket heads distracted. Something about payments and other shit I wasn’t paying attention to.

“The crates were there, on the bounty hunter’s ship. And I wanted to take things slow. Take as much as we could for a run back, and then go back on it again for the rest. Linel stayed inside Phantom II to load in the crates as planned. On my second run things went to hell and back between the pirates and the imperials because of a mishap in their agreement and Linel almost took off without me!”

At this point your hands moved with your words. An angry astonishment still held into your words, a bitterness left by your best friend. One you wouldn’t think would betray you, but ended up doing any how.

The simmering spark of flame in Ezra’s gut flared again.

Now’s not the time for jealousy, he told himself.

“I had to leave half of the items there, and rush back on before the door closed. And because of how quick he left we got spotted by imperials, we fought over who’s going to fly and we fucked up the Phantom really badly. Got nicked by a bunch of TIE-fighters and we we finally got back here the atmosphere finally did those damages in. Most of what was in the crates still left in the Phantom II are as good as destroyed now, Hera!”

You finally looked up at Hera, and her eyes immediately softened. Not out if you being one of her soft spots of the rebellion. One of the kids she took under her wing. No, not just out of that. The pure look of anguish that you hid behind your irritation at Linel was there, clear as day.

You always loved caring and learning about other people.

Cultural items held a hand in that. Those were always important to you. Severely, almost.

“All those pieces - all those stories, maybe even people, gone. And it was his fault for being too impulsive and my fault for letting it get to me. It was like before I joined you guys, Hera - everything I fucking lost from my people I that promised to get back and didn’t. It’s all gone because we fucked up.”

Oh.

You took a quiet breath, you shoulder bumping into Ezra’s. With a couple of blinks, you looked back down at Hera’s shoes, and wiped at the corner of one of your eyes, successful at keeping the dam that was your waterline of a lower eyelid at bay. “So… that’s all there is to it, General Syndulla.”

Nevermind.

Hera sighed, and sat down on your left side, her hand gently settling down on your left shoulder. “Well, at least now I know that maybe some best friends shouldn’t be paired together.”, she lightly chuckled, and you let out a quiet scoff of a laugh.

That feeling isn’t jealousy.

Your pinky finger edged against Ezra’s on your right, and he tapped his against yours, both of you curling said finger around the other’s.

It’s anger.

“Linel’s going to be grounded here for a couple weeks”, Hera states, voice still as calming as ever. “I have to ground you here as well to save face, alright? I’ll have Chopper go over the mission logs and recordings made during it just in case, see which one of your stories are corroborated with it. Just in case.”

She said the last sentence in such a way that told you she was still on your side. And you couldn’t be more grateful to her.

“Now, about the gash?”, Hera asked.

“The landing”, both you and Ezra answered. The Twi’lek laughed softly at the two of you.

“I figured as much.”

——————————————————————

“Hey, Linel Rhayme, right?”

Linel looked up from the data pad he was looking at, locking eyes with Ezra. “Oh, Commander Bridger. What’s up?”, he asked, letting his hands hang against his sides, datapad clutched into one of them.

“Nothing much,” Ezra said with a shrug. He leaned against the stone wall of the base, uncaring about the rough ridges digging into his back. “You and Y/n. Spectre-7. Best friends, right?”

“Right. The one and only!”, Linel answered, a nervous lilt slowly cantering into his voice. “Kinda messed up on that last mission though. We made up for it, I think. She’s still a little icy about it, but it’s nothing I’m not used to.”

“Right.” Ezra said with a slow nod. “Well, kinda understandable when her best friend almost left her to fend for herself against both bounty hunter’s AND imperials. But I mean, you said it for yourself. Nothing you aren’t used to, right?”

Bitter.

Linel shuffled his feet. He was a couple inches further away from Ezra than he last stood.

“Look, Commander, it’s not like I had a choice. They would’ve grabbed us if I hadn’t started leaving—“, the pantoran began, brows beginning to furrow against his blue skin.

“—But, the thing is, you DID have a choice.”, Ezra cut off, eyes narrowed, darkened under the shade of the stone above them. His voice was calm and collected as his arms crossed in front of him. “You almost got captured regardless, and you put my partner in harms way. I don’t really take kindly to others that end up hurting the people I care about, you know.”

Ezra pushed himself off the wall, and walked closer to Linel. “Next time instead of spearheading your way to an impulsive decision like that on a mission under her lead, why don’t you listen to her instead, huh?”

He gave Linel a couple pats on his shoulder, and began to walk away.

“It’s not like you’re any better, Bridger.”

Ezra stopped in his tracks, not looking back at Linel behind him. He had more to say, so Ezra decided to wait until he said what he needed to.

“I’ve heard stories about how Commander Bridger of the great ship The Ghost was impulsive, and consistently put his teams into greater danger because of his decisions. Especially at the beginning.”, Linel said, a hint of malice lacing in between those words. “Don’t be a hypocrite and reprimand me for something I did that you’ve done multiple times.”

Calm.

Ezra took a deep breath. “I may have been impulsive and done that a few times, especially during the beginning. I’m not knocking that in the slightest. But, they were never out of a selfish need to get away after I joined the Ghost. And I made sure I never left anyone behind if the situation allowed it.”

He turned back to Linel. “Can you say the same for yourself?”

Silence.

“Be glad that my partner forgave you. That’s a trust you never want to try and earn back if you break it.”

Ezra turned away once again, not getting a sound out of Linel, and walked on. “Thanks for calling me out on my hypocrisy though. I’ll be sure to work on it.”

The pantoran could only watch the Jedi walk away.

——————————————————————

Somewhere off in the distance was the rest of the ghost crew - minus you and Hera -!near Phantom II, checking it’s diagnostics and grabbing what was needed to replace it. Sabine caught a glimpse of Ezra talking to Linel, and excused herself from the rest of the group to grab some supplies they needed.

“You didn’t go too hard on the guy, did you?”, she asked Ezra when he walked by her. She had the hovering cart of supplies in her hands already, and pushed them with her while the two walked back to the broken down extension of the Ghost.

“I didn’t.”

Sabine raised a brow at her younger brother figure, a smirk rising onto her face at his shrug. She gave him a pointed look.

“I didn’t!”, he raised his hands (and his voice octave too), in mock surrender. “I swear.”

“Surreee you did.” The mandalorian rolled her eyes with a snort, looking ahead of them. “Sure.”

A long stretch of silence slid by them both as they walked, only broken by a quiet and reluctant scoff Ezra let out. “Like I’d ever let him get away with what he did with Y/n kriff free.”

“Yeah, I wouldn’t let him either. Best friend or not.”

Ezra nodded in agreement.

“Best friend or not.”

#ezra bridger x reader #star wars rebels x reader #romantic x reader #x reader #platonic x reader #fem!reader #romantic!ezra bridger x reader #platonic!sabine wren x reader #platonic!hera syndulla x reader #i was looking up what kinda species other than human I can base the best friend on #and settled on pantoran #and looked at character names for to figure out the name of readers best friend and found a bounty hunter named Lassa Rhayme and decided to #steal the last name #Linel and Lassa are distantly related now #sometimes best friends can be assholes too #and Ezra seems like he’s not be like the explosive jealousy and protective type after a while #so #we got calm anger Ezra which is a lot more intimidating than regular anger Ezra #👁🍵👁#anyways hi I’m love Ezra sm #also big sister Sabine- <33333 #and Hera being Hera

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thelongestway · 6 months

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It's finally Thursday! So: Lower Decks Liveblog time!!

Who is the narrator's voice this time? The director, perhaps? :P Starfleet Academy!! That moment when you know it before the text comes on. And Sito!! Aw, Wesley!!! Aw, baby Mariner, kiddo!!! And the one name nobody remembers. :P Also god, those kids and the four-way friendship... Back in the present, Locarno, so much bullshit, considering how you've treated her before... Oh you fucking asshole, 'junior member'?!?! Soo, how the fuck did you steal all those ships. A fucking D'Deridex, those are HUGE. Tell us about V'ger. C'mon. Oh god please tell me Freeman is trusting Mariner on this. Please tell me this is what last season's finale was the set up for. The Tom Paris line is a bit much, esp. 2 times in a row; "the Maquis would like a word" is great though! Holy shit, Mariner, way to go!!! Aw, T'Lyn! Good anthropologist!! And the depts checking in! Annnd we're pirating, right, Tendi? :P U.S.S. Passaro, stealing your mom's command codes, Beckett? :P Barter by combat, hehehe ^^ And Migleemo, I KNEW IT, he was so out of place in that lineup and had like exactly one moment to shine all season! MARINER DIPLOMANCY FOR THE WIN OFC YOU KNOW THE FERENGI! Like even with the fail, legit good try!

also damn, the "one weakness" plan failing? :P And way to raise the stakes, writers. The ship can't stay in Orion hands, but Tendi?.. Y'know, if any Trek could pull this off well, it's yours. Also not too extremely likely, but hell, who knows? ...The D'Deridex in hiding, you can always count on cloaks! Ooh, Livik comeback, and T'Lyn, lol! ...how long did that LARP take? also Boimler must've told her? Ah, Nova 1, enjoy the ion storm. What chain of command? Holy shit, that's a good excuse for putting Boimler in the captain's chair. The senior staff is making that destroyer battle-worthy; the Cerritos has glorified tractor beam duty... But MAN does it make for a good moment. (yeah, yeah, there's tons of people in the chain of command before him; I imagine he volunteered and Freeman let him because it's his best friend they're saving). OHH even better. Full command away team. AHAHAA the Captain's yacht!!! Someone knows their STO. :P PAYWALL BOMB. Which lieutenant, I wonder... I'm wondering if Starfleet won't want to give up D'Vana and are planning some other sort of barter now that relations are open? "Everyone, shut up, myself included" is one of my favorite turns of phrase. <3 Also "ohh there you are", Boimler, way to go! And Boimler and Mariner ribbing each other in the honest-to-goodness most affectionate way possible! Yeah, T'Lyn, maybe outright ghosting Sokel wasn't the best way of handling it. :P Also, science besties? Why the change of heart?

...yyyeah I was thinking that might have been a warning on a private channel.

But no, that's just D'Erika. And oh man, Tendi's face in the window. That's the face of someone who is code switching into "I am going to have to thoroughly break some bones around here, aren't I." Tl;dr: dammit, Lower Decks team, well done and thank you for doing this, you're amazing! I goddamn cannot wait for season 5, and like for the first time in a while - if I can get my hands on merch, I will buy it to support y'all. Like, you're getting priority in my "life across multiple countries" situation, that's how good y'all did.

#lower decks #star trek lower decks #lower decks spoilers

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daily-dose-of-sweets · 3 years

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Sweets’ Scars

Based on S4E21

Lance Sweets X Reader

Summary: You and Sweets have been in a relationship for a year now, but it isn’t until a case involving a certain metal band that you realize there might be something he’s not telling you. Something about his past. You don’t want to press, but you can’t help but worry.

Words: 3331

Warnings: Scars, and very short mention of abuse

---

As soon as you step foot into the venue, the blaring metal music floods in around you. You wince and quickly cover your ears to dull the screaming voices and screeching guitars. The music reverberates through your ribcage, pounding and ragged. Why do people listen to this kind of stuff? You can barely make out the mass of moving bodies ahead of you because of the flashing lights and flickering fires that practically blind you. It’s all so much, too much. You’ve never liked crowds, but this is a whole different level, and the urge to escape grips your chest.

You jump when a hand rests against your shoulder and you whip around only to see Doctor Brennan peering at you worriedly. “We won’t be here long,” she assures you, though she has to scream for you to hear her.

You nod, eyes darting back to the crowd of people, all covered in leather and heavy makeup. The two of you stick out like sore thumbs in your normal clothes, which was never something you thought would be possible. You huddle closer to your mentor, swallowing your nerves and twisting your fingers into your sweater.

“I’m going to call Booth!” She shouts out again.

You don’t respond this time, not that it really matters in the situation. You doubt you could get loud enough to overcome the noise.

Why did you have to come on this excursion? Why couldn’t Clark come? He was your senior after all. You had just recently started working at the Jeffersonian, and you were currently the youngest intern on the team. You figured it would be a calm job, just working with your people and maybe a few witnesses every once and a while. This...This was not what you were thinking of.

“I’m disturbed that despite my extensive training as an anthropologist, all these bands sound alike and appear to share identical belief systems and morals.” You hear Doctor Brennan shouting into her phone, to who is most likely Booth. She pauses, listening to his response before speaking up again, “I have no idea what you’re saying.”

You bite your lip nervously, eyes scanning the dark crowd again before landing on the stage, where the band ‘Zorch’ was performing. That’s why you were there, to question them about the remains.

“Are you guys ready?”

You shy away when a man comes into your space, pressing a hand to your back. With wide eyes, you look to Doctor Brennan, begging silently for help. She stares at the man with her brow furrowed, and then recognition floods her eyes.

“Sweets?”

What? You look back up at the man’s painted face, eyes narrowing as you take in his features. Then it hits you, just as quickly as it hit the anthropologist. It is Sweets! You couldn’t recognize him with the makeup and slicked back hair.

“Wait, is that really you?” You question, stepping closer to him. He casts a look down at you, lips pulling into a small smile that makes your heart stutter.

“Yeah, I had to meld to get information. What do you think?” Sweets holds his arms up, looking mighty pleased with his metal getup.

Your eyes slowly trace over his figure, and you can’t help but notice how well his sleeveless black shirt fits him, or how it shows off his arms. Heat comes rushing to your face, turning your cheeks rosy. Thank goodness the venue is so poorly lit, or else he’d probably notice. Your eyes lingers on the choker strapped around his neck. Part of you wants to grab the ring on it and drag him close for a kiss, which only serves to darken your blush.

“You look good,” you manage to squeak out before quickly turning to Doctor Brennan, completely missing the small smirk that replaces Sweet’s smile (he definitely noticed your flushed face).

“What information have you gathered?” The anthropologist asks him, completely oblivious to how flustered you just grew.

“Zorch’s lead singer is Murderbreath,” Sweets begins, gesturing to the stage just as the man blows out a puff of fire, “Look at that. Who does he think he is, the guy with the tongue from KISS?”

You laugh at the jest. You used to listen to that band, back in your rebellious teen phase that everyone goes through.

Sweets explains how the feud of the two bands has progressed, though your eyes stay focused on the band, looking for anything that might help with the case somehow. That when you notice the lead singer pull out a large knife, thrusting into the air for all to see and drawing chants from the crowd.

“Guys, he has a knife,” you worry aloud to your colleagues.

Sweets gently draws you closer to him in a somewhat subconscious way, “No, don’t worry, it’s totally fake.”

A shudder passes through you when the singer drags the blade along his throat, blood immediately dripping down his painted skin. He thrusts the crimson knife back into the air victoriously, before gripping his neck with his other hand. Blood seeps out from between his fingers, coating his gloves. You gasp when the man convulses and drops to his knees, fingers still wrapped around his throat.

“That’s...not fake,” Bones murmurs, “Murderbreath slit his own throat!”

Before you have time to even process what’s happening, you’re dashing forward, easily weaving through the throngs of fans. The screeching music fades into the background, overcome by the pounding of your pulse in your ears. The flashing lights blur together and all you can focus on is the man crumpled on the ground. The people part around you as you jump onto the stage, quickly followed by Doctor Brennan and Sweets.

You dive down next to the singer, pressing two fingers to his pulsepoint and covering his hand with your own.

“We need something to stop the bleeding,” you urge, panic swelling in your chest.

Brennan looks around quickly, “A compress, we need a compress!” Her eyes lock on Sweets before she darts up, ripping his shirt right off of him despite his complaints.

She drops back down, pressing the wadded fabric to the man’s neck. It’s only then that the music comes to a halting stop. The band goes silent, glancing between each other and towards their lead. You shake your head, lips pursed in irritation. Now they take it seriously.

“Hold this against the wound,” Brennan directs Lance before shouting into her phone, “Booth, can you call it in?” You assume his answer isn’t what she wants, because she shuts the phone with an irritated huff and begins dialing a new number.

Glancing around, you feel anger rise to replace your panic when you see how many people have their phones out to film the spectacle. Without hesitation, you jump up in front of the group, shoving some people back and blocking their cameras. Who, in their right mind, would record something like this?

“Stand back, please!” you cry out, taking a step back as the crowd pushes forward in retaliation, “Please! Get back, we need space to work! Move back!” Do these people have no respect? Or just basic decency?!

You take a glance back at your colleagues to check on what’s happening, but your eyes land on something that knocks the very breath from your lungs. Your chest tightens painfully at the sight of the scars running along Lance’s shoulders. The dancing lights glaze over them, catching on the raised skin like little criss-crossing lightning bolts. A burning sensation fills your throat, spreading to your eyes, but you blink rapidly, determined to not let it get the best of you right now. There are more important things to focus on! You turn back to the crowd, arms spread wide to keep the stage clear.

Soon enough, paramedics and police come rushing into the venue. Everything else comes as a blur. The sirens, the gurney, rushing out to the ambulance, it all swirls together in your mind like a chaotic storm. It leaves you dizzy when things calm down and Murderbreath is on his way to the hospital. You, Sweets, and Doctor Brennan are left standing outside the venue, and it’s then you notice Sweets is still shirtless.

“We need to get you a coat before you catch a cold,” you murmur worriedly, trying your hardest to shove the images of his scarred shoulders out of your mind.

“I have one in my car,” he tells you with that familiar gentle smile, but now it carries a different weight to it. Is that just you, though? Could you be overthinking this all?

You let out a heavy sigh and aggressively rub at your eyes as Sweets walks away. Why hadn’t he told you about it? You could guess the cause, not many wounds left marks like those, plus, in your field of work you are exposed to all kinds of scars. Did he not want you to know? Why wouldn’t he want you to know?

“Are you okay?”

You look over to Doctor Brennan, the heavy weight in your chest growing almost impossible as you blurt out, “Lance has scars on his back.”

“Scars? What kind of scars?” She peers at you with that perplexed expression of hers.

“Almost like he’d been…” You pause and flex your fingers to keep your nails from digging into your palms, “Like he’d been whipped. They were old.”

“Has he not talked to you about it before?”

“No, do you think that means something?”

She tilts her head, almost like a dog, not that you’d ever say that out loud, “I am not sure what you mean.”

“Well, I mean, we’ve been dating for a year now, don’t you think, I don’t know, don’t you think he would have told me something like that?” You bite down harshly on your lip, “Does he not trust me with his past?”

“It is best to not assume what Sweets might be thinking,” Doctor Brennan murmurs in that ever present, logical tone.

It’s not much, but it’s enough to placate you a little. She’s right after all. You have to gather the evidence before making any inferences. It’s possible Lance just wants to forget whatever happened to him, which you can understand. Horrible things are sometimes best left in the past. Taking a deep breath, you roll your shoulders and give your hands a good shake.

“Is everything okay?”

“Yep!” You squeak and turn back around to face Lance, who at some point snuck up behind you, “Peachy! Just fine! Is everything- Is everything okay with you? Not cold anymore?”

“I’m warming up,” he replies with a lecherous grin, “Though I could use some help.”

You can feel the heat rise to your cheeks when Sweets spreads his arms wide for a hug. The slight twinge of self consciousness doesn’t stop you from tucking in close though, fingers linking together at the small of his back.

He rests his chin on top of your head gently, “Is everything really okay?”

Of course he’d notice. You weren’t being the most subtle you guess.

“I’ll tell you about it later, okay?” You promise quietly and hide your face in his coat.

“Okay.”

“I suppose we should head back now. Booth will want to question Murderbreath if he’s well enough,” Brennan calls out to you as she heads to her car, “Will you be driving back with Sweets, (Y/n)?”

“Sure! If he’s okay with it!” You turn your eyes up to him questioningly.

“Of course.”

And just like the gentleman he is, Lance takes you back to the lab, leaving you with the promise to talk after work. You do your job with as much attention as usual, but in the back of your head, you can’t stop thinking about how on earth you're going to broach the subject.

How do you ask someone about something you probably weren’t meant to see? You know he probably won’t get angry, Lance has always been patient and oh so sweet (his name really did fit him). You just don’t want to cross any boundaries. Should you wait? Should you ask Booth about it first? No, no that’s a terrible idea, he would just get all awkward. You groan and set down the tibia you're currently looking at. It’s all so frustrating!

You’ll just have to do it. Lance always says communication is the most important part of any relationship. Even if you don’t know how to start it, you're sure he’ll know how to direct the conversation!

With that in mind, you wrap up quickly and wish Doctor Saroyan goodbye as you head out of the lab. Lance is waiting just outside for you, leaning back against his car’s hood. All the makeup from before has been cleaned off and his hair is back to its normal fluffiness.

“Well hello there handsome,” you chirp, leaning up to peck to his cheek, “Good to see you back to normal.”

Lance laughs softly, “Was it really that bad?”

You purse your lips for a second, glancing away when you think back to his outfit. The makeup was a bit much, but the rest of it…

“Oh, maybe not, huh?”

Oh gosh, are you blushing again? You quickly bury your face in his chest, which is rumbling with his laughter. How embarrassing! Could your face go just a minute without lighting up today? It felt like every second, there was something that made your cheeks flush. It’s a wonder how you haven’t just turned into a tomato yet.

“Shut up,” is all you end up grumbling, “Will you take me home now?”

“Sure.” He gives you a small squeeze, “Hop in.”

You practically dive into the passenger seat to avoid anymore discussion of your embarrassment. Knowing Lance, he’d use this to tease you for quite a while. You just hope he’ll go easy on you, especially around your colleagues. You’d probably die if he brought this up around Doctor Brennan or Doctor Saroyan. Or even Hodgins, because goodness knows how he’d make fun of you for the rest of time.

During the drive back to your apartment, Lance intertwines his fingers with yours and rests them in his lap, thumb tracing over your knuckles. It’s enough to calm the jitters vibrating in your chest. It’s like the embarrassment and anxiety over your upcoming conversation have swirled together in a chaotic rush.

“Are you going to tell me what’s bothering you now?” Lance breaks the silence of the car, though he keeps his voice soft.

You take a deep breath. Everything in your head has led up to this, you can do it.

“I...I saw the scars...on your back…”

His hand stiffens in yours, not much, but just enough for you to notice.

Things fall quiet for a few seconds. You watch Lance’s face nervously. His eyebrows synch down just the slightest bit and his lips press into a thin line. You can practically see him thinking the whole thing out in his head. The gears turning, the conflict, the small flash of pain. It makes your heart ache.

“We don’t have to talk about it, Lance,” you reassure him softly, “It’s okay.”

Those honey orbs glance at you before locking back on the road. You really wish you weren’t in the car right now, so that he didn’t have to split his focus like this. Whatever this is, it can’t be a light topic.

“I’m okay,” Lance finally says, “It’s okay. This is something I’ve worked through, we can, we can talk about it.”

Good, that’s good. You weren’t going to push it if he didn’t want to talk about it, but it lifts the weight in your chest to know he’s open to it.

“Can we wait until we get to your place though?”

“Of course, of course!”

You settle back into your seat, though your hand stays firmly in Sweets’. It’s a comfort to you both. The rest of the drive goes by fast, thankfully, and before you know it, you’re right outside your apartment building. Even as you walk up to your place, Lance trailing behind you, your fingers stay linked.

“Want anything to drink?” You ask as you toss your jacket on a hook and slip off your shoes.

“No, I’m fine,” he mumbles and slips into the living space.

You pace about your small kitchen in an attempt to keep yourself busy, but find nothing to do, so you slip onto the couch next to the psychologist. You sit close enough for your knee to brush his, but hopefully not close enough to crowd him.

Lance scratches the back of his neck with a sigh and starts, “So, you know how I grew up in the foster system for a bit?”

“We’ve talked about it, yeah.”

“Well,” his voice comes out a little shaky so he pauses. You scoot closer to rest a hand on his knee, to ground him. His hand covers yours and he sends you a grateful smile before starting again, “Well, when I was young, I ended up in a bad foster home, and um, and the foster dad-” another heavy pause, “-he would beat me.”

Your heart absolutely sinks at those words, at how meek he sounds now, compared to your usually self-assured, outspoken boyfriend. How could this happen to someone like him? Someone so wonderful and gentle, someone who does everything he can to help others? No wonder he never told you about it.

“I’m sorry you had to go through that, Lance,” you murmur in a gentle tone.

He draws his shoulders back a bit with a deep breath. It’s like he’s letting the weight slowly slip from them as he leans back into the couch. You watch his face as it subtly shifts through several emotions, someone bad, some good, some just thoughtful. Eventually, he raises an arm, a silent signal for you, to which you curl into his side. His fingers trace along your arm before settling on your elbow and giving it a small squeeze.

“Don’t be sorry. I wouldn’t be who I am today if I didn’t go through that,” he reminisces, voice still quiet, “I might not have joined the FBI, might not have...met you.”

You look up at him, touched yet worried at the same time.

“I might not have had the best childhood, but I’m living a good life now. If I can stop it from happening to someone else, then it’s all been worth it,” he says, the brightest, most genuine smile lighting up his lips.

The awe that hits you almost sucks the breath from your lungs. You can’t help but just sit there and stare up at Sweets adoringly. It’s like his heart is made of pure gold, something that can’t be touched or soiled by the hardships of his past. He’s your greatest treasure, holding more value to you than anything you could ever hold, touch, even be near. He’s...absolutely amazing.

“I love you, Lance.” You can’t help it when the words slip off your tongue.

Those eyes are once again set on you, swimming with unbridled content, peace. They sweep you away into their depths, and all you can do is to wrap your arms around him to keep yourself anchored. He pulls you close, lips pressing oh so softly against your forehead.

“I love you too, (Y/n).”

*Bonus*

“You want me to wear it again?”

“Maybe…”

“Really?” His tone comes out teasing, eyebrow perched high as he gazes down at you.

“You’re so mean,” you huff, not even bothering to hide your blush this time.

Lance only laughs and bows down to press his lips to yours briefly, though it’s enough to set your heart racing.

“I’ll go change now, if you’d like,” he hums, throwing you a little wink as he steps out of the room.

“Jerk,” you grumble under your breath.

“What was that?”

“Nothing!”

I hope you enjoyed this story! It was a tad longer than usual, but it’s something I’ve been wanting to write for a while! This is one of my favorite episodes :)

As always, if you have any requests, don’t be afraid to ask! I’ll write for Sweets, Aubrey, and most of the interns! Love y’all!

#Bones #bones reader insert #bonestv #lance sweets #Dr Lance Sweets #dr lance sweets x reader #lance sweets x reader #sweets #sweets x reader #Temperance Brennan #reader #reader insert #x reader #Self Insert

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m-y-fandoms · 4 years

Text

Kokichi x reader - patching him up after he falls through the floorboard

Request: I felt bad for a Kokichi when no one bothered to check up on him when he fell through the floor so how about a scenario where someone catches up to him after the trial and bullies him into letting them bandage him up. This small act of kindness causes him to fall for them.

Hey! I love this idea, but when he showed up at the trial, all the blood that was on his head and face was cleaned up, and he wasn’t light-headed or anything during the trial, some I’m gonna change up the request a bit to have the reader find him directly after he falls through the floorboard. Also, thanks for suggesting best boy, I will always have time to write for him - Mod Kokichi

SPOILERS FOR EVERYTHING UP TO CHAPTER 3 ENDING. Gender of reader never specified.

NOTE: MONOKUMA WAS OUT OF COMMISSION FOR THIS INVESTIGATION, BUT IM TAKING CREATIVE LICENSE TO ADD HIM BACK IN. WORK WITH ME LMAO.

“Hmmm, I see. Thanks, Kiyo!” You finished up your light but lengthy interrogation of the anthropologist, who elegantly bowed his head and disappeared into his lab. You exited, rounding the corner to investigate further. You headed toward the three empty rooms, wanting to re-examine Tenko’s body after Korekiyo’s statements, even if the thought of your friend’s corpse made you uneasy. It had to be done.

You rounded the corner, a sharp yelp releasing from your throat.

Shuichi, Maki and Kokichi turned to face you, startled by your sudden scream. Kokichi’s forehead was soaked, dripping pink rivulets of blood, and he was leaning on the wall for support.

“What’s going on?! What happened?! D-did someone attack you, Kokichi?” You ran over, joining the group and looking to Shuichi for answers.

“He’s fine.” Maki stated flatly.

“Obviously not, his head is gushing!” You were a bit irritated with Maki’s indifference, but a bit biased with your opinion on Kokichi. You knew many people disliked him, Maki least of all, but you didn’t see a reason to hate him. In fact…you’d been nursing quite the little crush on him. You found him witty, cute, intelligent.

“Yeah, he felt well enough to pull a childish prank on us, so I’d say he’s fine as well,” Shuichi’s eyes narrowed as he spoke, arms crossing as he looked at Kokichi with contempt. Kokichi simply grinned back.

“What prank?” You inquired.

“He pretended he was dead, lying there face-down and bloody only to pop up when we got worried!” Shuichi scoffed, his nasally, nerdy voice getting rather worked up.

“Kokichi…” you warned, seeing Shuichi’s point now. Kokichi merely smirked back at you as well.

“Anyway, we gotta go finish up this investigation before Monokuma cuts us off, so if you’ll excuse me, y/n.” Shuichi nodded, leaving with Maki to investigate Angie’s research lab. That left Kokichi and you in the hallway alone, his eyes drooping now that Shuichi was out of sight. A moment of weakness.

“Kokichi, are you alright? That’s a lot of blood. And you hit your head, yes? What if you have a concussion or something?”

“Why are you standing around? I haven’t seen you investigating at all, you lazy, lazy scoundrel,” he changed the subject. “Gonna leave all the work to everyone else?” He forced a venomous grin that quickly turned into a clenched-teeth grimace, his head pounding. It didn’t escape your notice.

“For your information, Ouma, I have been investigating, it’s just obvious to me who the guilty party is, so I’ve been slowing down. I’m ready for the trial.”

“Hmm so you’re useless and cocky? Great, just what we needed for this case!” He started walking off toward the stairs, still heavily depending on the wall. His words were harsh, but as usual, held an untruth within them. He knew you were smart, and that you probably had figured it out, but he wasn’t going to admit that to you, of course.

“K-Kokichi! Let me help you!” You grabbed his arm before he could stumble down the stairs. He looked to you incredulously, but didn’t pull away, looking at the little drops of pink that stained his white jacket sleeve.

“I don’t need your help, stupid-head! What, you’re the Ultimate Nurse or something? Ultimate babysitter? Go bother someone else!” He was trying your patience now, but you weren’t going to turn your back on someone obviously in pain. You saw pain in his eyes, both from his mysterious past and the current injury. Kokichi was more than meets the eye, and you could easily perceive that. It didn’t hurt that he was attractive.

“No, the Ultimate Psychologist, remember?” You stopped him when he tried to pull away and continue down the stairs alone.

“Ohhhh, pfft! Yeah,” he rolled his eyes, “I had forgotten since you never actually do anything during trials.”

“Monokuma!!!” You yelled out, ignoring his insult. Kokichi jumped at your sudden volume, and the monochrome bear appeared seemingly out of thin air.

“What do you twerps want?” He smiled, hands on his hips.

“How much time do we have left in the current investigation?”

“And why should I tell you...? I think that seems a bit unfair! Then I’d have to tell eeeeeveryone!” He leaned forward at your threateningly. You gestured toward Kokichi.

“Kokichi is obviously in no shape for a trial. He needs to get cleaned up and assessed, at least. I’m asking you to allow me the time to do so, no more, no less?” You challenged him.

“No way! You’re cra-“

“Kokichi is easily the smartest one here, and he keeps the trial fun and interesting, wouldn’t you agree?” You hated using the word fun to describe the killing game. You thought it was horrific and morbid, but a little lie to help a friend in the end wasn’t against your morals. “If he’s down for the count or out of it during the trial, it’s going to be painfully boring, right? No one to harass Miu, and everyone else gets along pretty well. It’s going to be a hand-holding ceremony of cooperation. Do you want that?” You glared at the small robot, Kokichi’s mouth a bit agape behind you. Not only were you defending him, which no one here did, but you were standing up to Monokuma.

“Hmmm...well, I suppose, if it will improve the trial...I must reluctantly agree!” Monokuma’s paw rose to his chin pensively. “You’ve got an hour! Not a minute over, got it?!”

“Deal. Can I have a first aid kit?”

“No!”

“RISE AND SHINE URSINE!” The three remaining Monokubs appeared in front of you, with Monodam holding a large white case in his metal paws.

“HERE. I. WILL. ALWAYS, CONTRIBUTE. TO. THE. CAUSE. OF. GETTING. ALONG,” Monodam spoke in his staccato mechanical voice, handing the plastic container’s handle to you.

“You’re lucky my wittle cubs are so cute and helpful and wesponsible!” He swooned at the smaller bears. “Now get outta here, times ticking!”

“SO LONG, BEAR WELL!”

You turned to Kokichi with a smile, and to your surprise, he smiled back.

You sat in your room in the dorms, with Kokichi leaning his head back gently onto the side of the tub in your small, personal bathroom. You sat on the edge, massaging the dry blood out of his hair as he pouted, arms crossed against his chest and thin legs splayed out in front of him.

“OW!” You touched a sensitive spot, the opening of his wound a little too roughly, and he shook his feet up and down, stomping on the ground like a little kid. “It’s clear you’re trained to take care of people’s minds, not their bodies, you asshole!” He yelled up at you. You chuckled lightly, easing up on his skull and rubbing out a particularly crunchy bit of coagulated blood.

“What ever do you mean by that, my dear Ouma?” You teased, and he stiffened up, before quickly realizing his emotions were plain on his face, and pouting again.

“I mean, it’s clear you know how to unravel someone psychologically and trick them, like how you ‘know the culprit already’and persuaded Monokuma, but you really have no talent for physical care, huh?” You assumed he was referring to your rather rough treatment of his body...well, what he determined as rough.

“I think you’re being a little unfair, Kokichi. I think I’m doing a pretty great job. Do you feel any better after the water?” You’d made him down a few water bottles upon entering your room and examined the wound before rinsing his dark locks out.

“Hmpf! Whatever. I guess I am grateful to you,” he sighed, “but my appreciation will only continue if you prove you’re truly not as dumb as I once thought!” He looked off dreamily.

“And how do I do that?” You wrung out the longer pieces of his hair, playing along.

“Who is the culprit then...if you’re so smar-?” You wrapped his head in a towel and it covered his face and mouth, muffling his words, “HEY!” You giggled and quickly rustled the towel around gently, careful to avoid directly scraping his wound. When you were done you lifted the towel, peeking under to look at his face. He scowled at you, a light dusting of pink on his cheeks.

“Aww, don’t look so angry. It only makes you cuter!” He turned away from you abruptly, embarrassed, then stood until he was hovering over your seated position, playing it off.

“Whatever! I’m outta here. Some of us actually want to live through this trial.” You grabbed his hand as he began to exit your bathroom.

“It’s Korekiyo. It’s obvious, to me at least…he killed them both.” His eyes widened. How did you…? Of course, he had already come to this conclusion. Seeing something like confusion in his eyes, you continued. “It became apparent as I analyzed him. I talked to him for quite a while.”

“Did you... shrink him?” He scoffed, a bit impressed.

“I’m afraid so,” you wore a crooked grin, standing to meet him.

“Aww, poor guy. And he didn’t even make an appointment!!! Though, I guess it’s really your loss after all. You shrinks are expensive! I hope he has insurance!” He laughed loudly, pitying the graceful anthropologist who would shortly meet his doom.

“You knew already, then?” You inquired.

“Of course!! Evil recognizes evil after all, and he is evil.” He waltzed toward your bedroom door, not a hint of a thank-you or appreciative word coming from his lips. You didn’t stop him, knowing the trial would soon commence anyway. But then, your thoughts prodded at you, and your lips opened.

“K-Kokichi?” He paused, hands on his hips as he turned to face you.

“Whaaaat? We haven’t got all day!”

“I need to place a bandage and some antibiotic over your wound...it’s pretty deep.” Why were you so worried about him, he wondered. “A-and...I wouldn’t mind spending more time with you…” your cheeks felt hot and you looked toward the ground. He rolled his eyes, walking over and plopping down, criss-cross-applesauce in front of you. “Kokichi?”

“I can’t blame you for wanting my attention,” he spoke lazily, “I am the most entertaining person in this dump!”

“You really are charming, you know?” You spat sarcastically.

“Well???? Get to it!” He handed you the first aid kit beside your bed, and you accepted it with a relieved, gentle smile. You began to part his hair, looking for the wound, and he was grateful that you couldn’t see the expression on his face from that angle.

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4mph1b10us · 3 years

Text

korekiiyo shiingujii ana1ysiis

spoii1ers for ndrv3!

iit’s quiite hard to wriite 1iike thiis wiith autocorrect on, so from the 1iine break be1ow ii wii11 not be usiing my typiing quiirk Σ(･口･)

word count (exc1udiing author’s notes): 1,611 words

tota1: 1,717 words

for siimp1iiciity's sake, ii've done thiis on computer so that there's not a wa11 of text

~*~

"You wonder, "Who is this?" Yes... I shall make that clear first. My name is Korekiyo Shinguji... I am called the Ultimate Anthropologist."

~*~

Hello everyone, my name is Milo, and today I’ll be doing my best to cover one of my favorite characters in the Danganronpa universe, Korekiyo Shinguji. He is originally from the 3rd mainline game, New Danganronpa v3: Killing Harmony. Since I don’t physically own the game, I’m basing most of this essay entirely on the Danganronpa Wiki page for Shinguji. Please read that if you desire a more lengthy look at his actions from an unbiased perspective since this one leans more towards empathy than hatred. Whoops!

We first properly meet him after talking to everyone else inside of Hope’s Peak. He’s in the main hall and standing away from the doors leading out to the courtyard. When he introduces himself, Shinguji goes on to talk about anthropology and the beauty of humanity. This proceeds to creep Akamatsu out.

Alongside that, in Chapter 3, we are unfortunately forced to see his relationship with his sister. It’s weird and only gets weirder if you spend two of your Free Time events talking to him when you first play as Akamatsu. He’s evaluated that all girls present at the academy would be great “friends” for his sister, barring Iruma and Harukawa. This is because Shinguji believes that Harukawa doesn’t believe in the power of love, and Iruma is just… well, she’s Iruma. Hardly the girl you would want to send home to your parents.

This weird incest plotline is unfortunately present in most Danganronpa games, such as Leon and his cousin (though one-sided on his cousin’s behalf; he didn’t like her), Tsumugi in the Love Hotel (if you consider that canon), and Monotaro & Monophanie (which is then implemented into Gokuharu’s execution, killing them both).

His sister’s name is never disclosed in-game or in any other Danganronpa media, so the fandom dubbed her “Miyadera/Miyatera,” which is an alternate way of reading Shinguji’s last name. The miya character - represented as 宮 - and tera character - 寺 - are both present in Shinguji, 真宮寺. For the rest of this essay/paper, I’ll be referring to his sister as Miyadera, and himself as Shinguji.

I’ll be getting deeper into his mischaracterization later on, but I want to talk about his appearance for now. Mainly, his hair, his mask, and the lipstick he wears. From what we see of Miyadera in Shinguji’s execution, if that is Miyadera at all, we can see that she had long hair, and when Shinguji was turned into a ghost, it was the exact shade of Shinguji’s hair. From here, we can assume that Miyadera looks exactly, if not similar, to Shinguji.

His lipstick and mask are results of representations of his tulpa, Miyadera. Tulpa is defined as “a concept in mysticism and the paranormal of a being or object which is created through spiritual or mental powers.” In much simpler terms, it is an object or living thing that was created/imagined through spiritual/mental abilities. Shinguji gained a tulpa by being beaten half to death by villagers shortly after arriving there. When he was in a state between life and death, he saw his sister, who joined his subconscious and took control of his body whenever his mask was off. It’s why we only see him take off his make once Saihara dubs him the culprit of Chapter 3, and why his voice suddenly took a more feminine tone. A quote from Miyadera, which can be found in the game, is, "Sweet Korekiyo, calm yourself... Their words are all hollow. There is no meaning to any of them... You must teach these ignorant children a lesson."

That statement can be interpreted two ways, one; that she’s trying to calm him down and two; she’s repeating whatever she said to him during childhood. It’s implied that Miyadera passed away from disease sometime before Killing Harmony takes place, which is both a good and bad thing. It’s great because then we have some time frame of how she was and how she acted when Shinguji knew her best.

Whenever I read the quote above, or any of her quotes, to be honest, I am filled with a sense of dread, or even, despair. The following quote especially makes me feel terrible; "Calm yourself, Korekiyo. You mustn't raise your voice. You mustn't stutter. You mustn't lose composure. You mustn't become flustered. You mustn't waver. Look at their horrid faces. This sorry lot is not worth agonizing over."

Have you noticed how she’s setting guidelines on how to defend himself? She’s turning Shinguji’s attention away from Saihara and the trial and to her because she knows that Shinguji trusts her even after all these years.

You might be wondering, “Milo, what the hell does that all have to do with Shinguji?” And I’ll tell you plain and simple: he was abused by Miyadera. Shocking, I know. Having Shinguji rave and rant about being in love with her, only to be a victim? Sadly, it’s very true indeed. Shinguji was most likely groomed and gaslighted into thinking that Miyadera loved him when that was not the case.

Gaslighting is defined as, “[to] manipulate (someone) by psychological means into questioning their own sanity.” From the two quotes I provided, it doesn’t seem to make sense. Miyadera only sounds like a kind, worrisome older sister. Incorrect, I say. She’s emotionally gaslighting him, trying to make him believe that the trial makes no sense and he shouldn’t worry about any of them. I can also bet she used this tactic to control him as a younger person as well.

It’s a well-known fact that children are both impressionable and gullible. If an older sister figure came up to you as a child and told you to do unmentionable things, unfortunately, you might follow her directions. Shinguji states that his sister was a sickly girl who often stayed in the hospital. When she would come home, he’d be at his easiest to manipulate. Why would his dear, sweet, sickly, older sister ever lie to him?

Next, I’m going to be covering his relationships with other students, namely Shuichi Saihara and Rantaro Amami. These will delve further into spoiler territory, so if you didn’t already read the warnings I put in place, here is your extra warning for spoilers for Chapter 3 of Killing Harmony.

To start with, I’ll be exploring his poorer relationships first. Most of the girls fit into this category, namely Iruma, Harukawa, Chabashira, and Yonaga - that means he has a terrible standing with four of the eight girls present at the beginning of Killing Harmony, five if you count Yumeno’s way of dealing with Chabashira’s murder. Shinguji even taunts her once they solve that mystery, stating, “Let me guess, you’ll never forgive me. Himiko, you must hate me so very much right now. Maybe you’d feel better if I was executed by Monokuma…”

Shinguji has a poor relationship with Iruma and Harukawa due to seeing them as “unfit” to be “friends” with Miyadera. He has a poor relationship with Chabashira because he’s a degenerate male, but he still thinks she made a good friend for his sister. His poor relationship with Yonaga is shown in Chapter 3 when Yonaga forms the student council. Once again, I’m making amends to some parts of the characters. I’ll be referring to Yonaga’s god as God, simply because Atua is an actual Polynesian god in real life. Shinguji doesn’t worship any god, and so wants to study Yonaga’s God purely for anthropologic purposes. This displeases Yonaga, who then states that God's business hours are closed for the day. In Chapter 3 when Yumeno brings up Yonaga’s God, he simply asks whether or not they’re done talking about it, cementing his distrust in faith.

Next, I’ll cover his better relationships. Akamatsu isn’t too terribly creeped out by him and instead sees Shinguji as a kind guy who cares about his sister. Akamatsu even apologizes for saying that Shinguji would be into inc*st, this event either taking place in his first or second Free Time event. I’m saving his and Saihara’s relationship for last since I’ll have the most to write about then. Instead, please enjoy the news that in the events of Ultimate Talent Development Plan (UTDP for typing purposes), Shinguji and Amami are actually great friends. In Amami’s first free time event, he tells Akamatsu that Korekiyo has a strong personality, but she’ll be able to understand him plenty if she takes time to. It’s also stated that Amami emphasizes that Shinguji is also the calm and clever type.

Lastly, I’ll be exploring his relationship with Saihara. It’s slightly rocky, if only because Shinguji hasn’t let go of his sister yet, but it’s miles better than his relationship with Chabashira. Slight side note before we begin, I’ll be discounting the Love Hotel scene mostly because I’m a minor and I don’t feel completely comfortable having to watch that simply because I’m writing an analysis. As the game progresses to Chapter 3, Shinguji and Saihara have built trust between themselves. While Saihara still found Shinguji creepy, he [Saihara] never discounted him simply for existing. There was even a point where Shinguji offered to help Saihara communicate with Akamatsu from beyond the grave, though he was turned down.

Korekiyo Shinguji is a misunderstood and somewhat tragic character who usually gets disregarded and uncredited all because people do not like him. However he’s not an “uwu soft twamatized bean <3” either. He’s a strong character who has questionable morals at best and a terrible representation of an abused character at worst.

~*~

thank you for readiing!! p1ease make sure to get a hea1thy amount of s1eep and that you do have a cup of water and some food, you deserve iit!!

sources:

- https://danganronpa.fandom.com/wiki/Korekiyo_Shinguji

- https://www.quotev.com/story/7873923/Danganronpa-Class-Trials/73 (siide note: how fucked up iis iit that ii was on1y ab1e to fiind a transcriiptiion of the triia1 on quotev)

#korekiyo shinguji #shinguji korekiyo #sister shinguji #miyadera shinguji #drv3 #ndrv3 #killing harmony #new danganronpa v3 #new danganronpa killing harmony #character analysis #korekiyo shinguji analysis

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kulaykape · 3 years

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Mine (Ina x MC)

Summary: Ina doesn't like how one colleague sees Aliyah.

I thought I'd flip around one of the last fics I wrote and have Ina defending MC instead. This was honestly more fun to write 😅. Hope you enjoy! ☺️

Warnings for mentions stalkery and overall creepiness (with some very slight violence).

Tags: @sakaily @citybornchick @jenxespinoza @domakir @astrangeandunusualgirl @thepotatobleh

•••

"Alright, alright, I'm sorry!" Aliyah exclaimed with a laugh. But Ina was persistent- and also considerably stronger. She squeezed Aliyah even more tightly as she peppered kisses across her face and neck.

Aliyah wrapped her legs around Ina's waist, bracing one hand on the desk she'd been lifted up onto while the other tried in vain to push Ina's face away.

"Inaaa, I can't walk into my next class with lipstick all over my neck again!" Aliyah whined. That had been an interesting conversation with Professor Samson…

"Then you shouldn't have been so mouthy during class today," Ina retorted, her smile hidden in the crook of Aliyah's neck.

"It's one thing to walk into class with dark red Fenty all over my neck," Aliyah said, "It's another thing to walk into class with dark red Fenty all over my neck and also smell like you!"

Ina tugged on Aliyah's lip playfully before pulling away a bit. "Then I suggest you figure out a damn good alibi."

Aliyah let out a sigh. "Sometimes I think you want us to get caught," she said as Ina helped her down from the desk.

It was a very un-Ina thing for Ina to want, seeing as she was careful by nature, but just one look at Aliyah and who could blame her? That was a woman whose partner had to be quick to claim before harpies started flocking to her.

Ina hummed slightly as she pulled Aliyah to her and leaned her forehead against hers. "Maybe I do sometimes. I don't like treating you like some dirty taboo when we're here," she replied, frowning.

"It would still be some dirty taboo if we were caught," Aliyah pointed out, reaching down to give Ina's hand a squeeze, "C'mon, let's not do anything stupid regarding us, okay?"

Ina nodded in understanding, giving Aliyah's hand a squeeze before kissing her gently on the forehead. "Remember that you owe me dinner," she said, giving Aliyah's butt a light slap as turned to walk away.

Aliyah let out a laugh, shaking her head. "Am I taking you out or pampering you at your apartment?"

"Pampering."

Aliyah scoffed as she opened the door of Ina's office and started to slip out. Ina sure was quick to answer that one. "Alright, your highness," she muttered.

"I heard that!"

---

"Ah, Professor Kingsley, I've been looking for you!" Ina looked up from her work to see Professor Samson approaching her two-chair table in the teacher's lounge.

"Professor Samson," she greeted her. She had to admit that she really only knew her best as Aliyah's music theory Professor as well as... well, that was about it. Ina guessed that out of all the stuffy professors that had their noses perpetually turned up, Professor Samson was the one she should at least make an effort to talk to.

Samson welcome herself to the seat in front of Ina, her smile… unnervingly wide.

I hope she doesn't smile like that while lecturing, Ina thought with an internal wince.

"I just had to say thank you so much for what you've done!" She exclaimed.

Ina felt something like bashful panic and confusion rising up in her. Had she done something? She hadn't even spoken to this woman before now, what the hell was she talking about?

Was she being sarcastic? Ina thought she might be being sarcastic…

"Er…" she cleared her throat, "For?"

"Well, for molding Miss Diaz into the brilliant student she is!" Samson said. Ina sagged with relief, then re-puffed with pride as she took Samson's words in.

She chuckled easily. "Miss Diaz was brilliant before she became my TA. I think I've had little to do with improving that," she replied.

"Oh, but her work ethic practically mirrors yours," Samson insisted, "But you're right in that she was already something brilliant before she came here."

Samson started to pull out her phone, and warning alarms began to whirr quietly in Ina's head. She furrowed her brow as Professor Samson started to scroll through her phone.

"She was an absolutely amazing performer even back in high school. Did you know she went to Fiorello H. LaGuardia?" She turned her phone to Ina to show her pictures of a younger Aliyah standing with her peers on a stage, some award in hand. “She’s been performing ever since she was 15! Back when her father was alive, he managed her performances...”

In a different setting, Ina would been thoroughly amused and interested. Especially considering 16 year-old Aliyah looked absolutely adorable in the picture (she was so going to tease her about those braces).

And Ina might have just let it slide that Professor Samson was showing her this if she didn't notice the picture was saved to her camera roll.

Ina's eyes narrowed just a tick, and not-so-poor Professor Samson was too busy making heart eyes at Aliyah's picture to notice. "You've certainly taken quite the interest in Miss Diaz," Ina commented.

"Oh, very much so," Samson continued. Ina balked.

Not even the decency to lie? She thought.

"I've taken a special interest in her career," Samson said proudly. Ina wanted to gag. As if that was all.

"Hm." Ina looked around the teacher's lounge. There were too many people there for a truly thorough confrontation.

"Her little brother Leon is also a sprouting musician," Professor Samson continued emphatically, "I found this video of him playing drums on Aliyah's Instagram. It's-"

"Professor Samson, could you step outside with me?" Ina asked.

A look of clueless surprise passed over Professor Samson's face. "Oh! Of course, Professor Kingsley," she said. Ina rose from her seat, straightening the lapels of her blazer, before leading Professor Samson outside.

The back of the teacher's lounge outside was usually empty, so Samson's confusion could be understood as Ina led her out there. Ina crossed her arms and leaned against the wall, as she tapped a finger pensively against her bicep.

"Professor Samson, I have to be honest with you," Ina said. Samson's brow furrowed, "I'm disgusted. Thoroughly. And the only reason I'm not going to physically emphasize how disgusted I am is because I would lose my job."

Professor Samson's eyes widened. "What- I only wanted to share with you what I'd found about Aliyah! Don't you take a similar interest in her?"

Ina felt her insides roar, and it took everything in her being not to spring at Samson. "I would never violate Miss Diaz the way you clearly have," she snapped, "So save yourself the hospital visit, and stay. The hell. Away from her."

Something in Professor Samson's own being must have snapped, Ina could see it in her eyes.

"I'm sorry Professor Kingsley, but you don't get to dictate what the hell I do," she replied firmly and began to turn away, "How about you do yourself a favor and stay the hell away from m- uff!"

Samson's eyes widened as her back met the wall, and the wind was swiftly knocked out of her. Ina's dark brown eyes bore into hers with an intensity Professor Samson didn't know the kindly-mannered anthro Professor was capable of.

C'mon, let's not do anything stupid regarding us, okay?

Ina could hear Aliyah's voice in the back of her mind.

Oh well, her own thoughts replied, You started it when you punched Poppy Min-Sinclair.

Ina's hands balled up the material of Samson's jacket as she squeezed her fists. It was all she could do to keep from just whopping Samson. "Not a lot of people can make me so angry that they prompt me to violence, Professor Samson," she said through gritted teeth, "But internet stalking Aliyah? Violating her family life? I'm not going to let you get away with that."

Professor Samson stared at Ina for a long moment, and then let a sudden laugh. "I knew it!" She exclaimed, her voice dipping into slightly sinister undertones, "I see the way you look at her Kingsley, like a hungry dog at a piece of meat. You want her."

Ina's eyes narrowed slightly, and she squeezed the lapels of Samson's jacket a little tighter, pushed her a little further into the wall. But Samson wouldn't back down.

"You really think Aliyah would want someone like you? Someone so boring, so much older, so disconnected from her and her own passions?" Samson scoffed, clearly abandoning all care for her own safety, "You're a thirty-something workaholic anthropologist. She's a 21 year-old musical genius. You'll never have her."

Ina breathesd out a mirthless laugh. "That's where you're wrong, Professor Samson," she replied, "Now the Dean certainly won't believe you if you tell her, so I'll let you in on a little secret." Ina leaned close to Samson so she could see the protective rage dancing in her eyes.

"Aliyah Diaz is mine. And I'm not going to allow someone like you to be in any position to hurt or violate her," she growled, then abruptly let go of (a shellshocked) Professor Samson's lapels.

"So you're sleeping with students now?" Samson asked, face twisting in both rage and jealousy, "Is she the only one you're taking advantage of?"

Ina paused, her back turned to Samson. As she started to turn around, now wholly ready to pick up some assault charges, Samson hurriedly retreated back to the teacher's lounge as her mind reminded her that Ina could probably throw her.

Ina let out a sigh, her shoulders slumping, and leaned against the wall.

Aliyah's going to be furious, she thought.

~end~

#ina kingsley #professor kingsley #queen b #ina x mc #not my best work but I was itching to write some ina stuff

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himikiyo · 3 years

Text

night go slow // himikiyo week day 2

Himikiyo Week Day 2: First Date + Wedding

“Himiko-chan, we all thought you’d be the next to get married. You and Kiyo have been together the longest out of any of us.”

Himiko and Korekiyo go to a wedding.

Read on AO3, DRA, or under the cut. CW for abuse in the context of Kiyo’s past.

Marriage ceremonies and other similar rites were a near universal phenomenon, occurring in wildly different societies all over the world. The precise details differed, but many different kinds of humans placed value on committed relationships, whether for the joy of love and romance or as a more practical arrangement for child rearing. It was fascinating to study.

As a great anthropologist, Korekiyo valued it from an academic point of view. Love, relationships, it was all so beautifully complex. Few things unlocked such a vast range of behavior and emotions, from gorgeous to downright ugly. Ugliness could be beautiful too, so it was a win-win. They had to believe that. If there was no value in human ugliness, then what meaning could be derived from—?

No, best not to think too much. There was beauty in it. Sister valued beauty too. She was fearsome, yes, but nothing if not concerned with appearances. She taught them well. They had no doubt that marriage was best left as a theoretical field of study for them.

She was supposed to get married once. There was a boy she went to school with, before she grew too ill to continue. Haruto stayed in touch, calling her often and visiting her in the hospital. He sent flowers and teddy bears. He pitied her, of course. Kiyo was young then, but they understood that much. Sister didn’t have long to live, and she was too fragile to follow the normal progression of going out on dates and developing a relationship with someone. That was why she—

No.

He figured it out, Haruto did. After enough times of catching glimpses of rumpled clothes and lipstick marks, or hearing roughly whispered warnings, he grew suspicious.

“Is something going on?” he asked, cornering Kiyo in the kitchen. They backed up reflexively, feeling the edge of the countertop digging into them. They didn’t like it when people got too close.

“What do you mean?”

“With Sumire-san...with your sister. I know we don’t know each other too well...” He crouched down a bit then, even though Kiyo was already tall for twelve. How annoying. “...But if there’s anything bad going on...if she’s hurting you or...you know...”

“No,” Kiyo said, feeling their heart crawling up into their throat. “Nothing’s wrong. She’d never do anything bad.”

Haruto looked uncomfortable, carding a hand through his hair. He glanced away, seeming to consider his next words carefully.

“It’s not your fault if she did. You can tell me. We’ll talk to the cops or something, okay? Someone who can help you.”

Unfortunately, that was a good day for Sister, one when she had enough strength to walk around. It was at that moment that she entered the kitchen.

“Haruto-kun? What has my brother been saying to you?” There was danger in her gaze, icy enough to turn their blood to slush. Haruto seemed to feel it too if the way he froze was any indication. “He’s such a troublemaker. You really shouldn’t pay any attention to his lies, that just encourages him.”

“He didn’t have to tell me anything. I have eyes, Sumire. And I’m not going to be keeping this to myself.”

“I’d think twice about that if I were you.”

Korekiyo fled the room, but it didn’t matter. They could still hear the two of them arguing no matter where they went. Haruto was lucky. He got to leave. It was Kiyo who took over the role of absorbing their sister’s wrath when he was gone, insisting over and over that they didn’t say anything, that they’d never do anything to hurt her.

Haruto never came back. It wasn’t until some time later that Kiyo found out about the bribe their parents offered to keep him quiet. It made sense. Their sister always got her way.

“It’s not your fault.” Those words always stuck with them, echoing again and again in their head. If it wasn’t their fault, then why were they constantly being punished? If he wanted to help them, how could he fold so easily at the promise of hush money from their parents?

Marriage — how could something so transactional veiled as love bring anything but pain? Haruto and their sister, their parents...marriage never worked out. It tainted everything it touched.

He was months away from being considered family. After enough time passed that they were able to realize their sister was wrong, the foremost thought on their mind was simple.

Why didn’t he save them?

---

For the second time in the past year and a half, Himiko found herself at a wedding reception.

“Everything looks really pretty, huh?” she murmured, nudging against Kiyo as they walked. “Shuichi’s aesthetic sense isn’t half bad. Maybe that’s part of being a detective...observational skills and all.”

“Yes, it’s quite beautiful. Kaede and Tenko’s was lovely as well, despite Tenko being her usual self. Our friends all know how to put on excellent receptions, it seems. It’s fascinating to see people we’ve spent so many years with taking this step in their lives.”

“Yeah,” Himiko echoed softly. “Fascinating.” There were plenty of other guests around, some familiar and some not. It wasn’t the right time to bring up how she truly felt about seeing Shuichi and Kiibo getting married. She was happy for her friends, of course, but she’d be lying if she said she wasn’t yearning for the day she’d be the one having a beautiful wedding.

She was well aware of the reasons behind Kiyo’s views on marriage, and she knew it didn’t have anything to do with how much they loved her, but it still grated on her sometimes. Was it just society’s influence telling her it mattered?

With everyone thronging around the newlyweds, it was the perfect time to slip away to their table. Neither one of them were too big on being in the middle of crowds — observation suited them better. Of course, it didn’t take long before they had company.

“The whole gang’s together as usual, huh?” Maki said, glancing up and down the length of the table, set for sixteen. “Well, I guess that’s not bad.”

“Our hosts are truly thoughtful,” Kiyo replied, the conversation gradually dragging Himiko out of her reverie. “And I suspect you’re happier with the arrangement than you choose to let on too, Maki-san.”

She scoffed, shaking her head and tugging at her hair.

“All these years and you still haven’t figured out that it’s not your place to psychoanalyze me. Not sure why I expect anything else.”

Himiko just smiled, squeezing Kiyo’s hand. At one time, Maki’s distaste for them was very much real, but there was no need to be worried anymore. It was the same stubborn sort of banter she engaged in with everyone else.

“If that’s how you wish to put it, I psychoanalyze everyone. You’re no different in that respect.”

“Weirdo,” Maki grumbled, which was essentially her version of a peace offering.

Gradually, more and more of their friends made their way over, some more quietly than others. For those who were more inclined to party, a wedding was one of the best possible reasons to let loose. Leaning a little closer to Kiyo, mumbling an excuse about being chilly just so she could snuggle up to them, Himiko’s eyes tracked Miu across the room. Predictably, she was one of the loudest people in the venue, dancing with strangers and making her typical raunchy comments.

It wasn’t until Kaede and Tenko joined them that Himiko’s attention was forcibly pulled back to the table.

“Tenko guesses even degenerate weddings can be nice,” Tenko pronounced with a heavy sigh. “She still doesn't get why anyone wouldn’t want a wife though.” At that moment, as she paused to take a sip of her drink, Himiko knew exactly what was coming. It wouldn’t be the first time, after all. She knew what would be said and yet she was powerless to stop it, just as one might watch two cars about to crash.

“Himiko-chan, we all thought you’d be the next to get married. You and Kiyo have been together the longest out of any of us.” The visibly disgusted expression she made when saying their name already wasn’t doing her any favors, but Tenko had never been one to know when to stop. “What Tenko means is... if you were having second thoughts about them, that’d be totally understandable, but if not, what’s the hold up?”

“That’s not any of your business,” she replied through gritted teeth. “Speed isn’t everything, you know.”

“What’s the big deal? Tenko’s only concerned about your happiness, and if Kiyo’s not making you happy, then maybe you should—”

“Don’t talk about them like that. Ever.” She knew it was childish to flee, but in that moment, her legs had a mind of their own. She hurried out of the reception hall, making a beeline for the outdoor gardens. At least there she could get a moment’s quiet to cool down. As she left, she could hear Kaede scolding her wife’s insensitivity, but nothing from Kiyo. How selfish was she, not bothering to check if they were okay?

Sinking down onto a bench, she closed her eyes. Telling herself to take deep breaths could only do so much, and yet she felt powerless to take any other action. All she could do was sit there, listening to the distant sounds of the party and the barely perceptible signs of someone approaching.

“Himiko...”

She opened her eyes again, immediately scanning their face in an attempt to make sense of their emotional state. They weren’t visibly distressed, but when it came to Kiyo, that didn’t always mean much. Unsure what to say, she simply moved over at first, making room for them to join her on the bench.

“It was really rude of Tenko to say all that,” she began eventually, letting her hand rest on their leg. “It’s none of her business whether we’re getting married or not.”

“That may be true, but I’m less concerned about my own feelings than I am about yours. She was attempting to give me an ultimatum, but in the process, she made you uncomfortable.”

“Well, yes, but...it’s not a burden for me to stand up for you. That’s what being in a relationship is all about, isn’t it? Supporting each other? I know your reasons, and...my love for you is way more important than a ceremony or a piece of paper.” A little embarrassed, she looked down, face reddening in the evening air.

“Is that so? You’re perfectly content with continuing on this way indefinitely, never taking what most would consider to be the logical next step in our relationship?”

“I mean...I do wish we could, but...” Even if she disagreed with their reasons — the two of them wouldn’t suddenly fall apart just because of a change in title — she never wanted to pressure them into doing something they didn’t want. Their journey toward healing from their childhood trauma had been a long one.

“But you’re concerned for my feelings,” they finished. “You don’t need to be. I’ve actually been giving the matter some thought even before today.” Kiyo grasped her hand, fingers wrapping warmly around her own. “I love you, Himiko. You’re the love of my life. Of that I have no doubt. I know you would never intentionally hurt me nor turn against me. If anything, sometimes you hurt yourself instead. If I wouldn’t take a leap of faith for you, then how could I possibly claim to be worthy of all you’ve given me?”

“Are you saying what I think you’re saying?” The noise of the party indoors, the twinkling of the stars, even the soft rustling of the breeze, all of it was burned into her memory. She knew it was a moment she’d want to go back to again and again.

“I am. Though I believe it’s considered a bit rude to propose at someone else’s wedding, so we’ll save the official engagement for later, shall we?”

What better way to say yes than with a kiss?

#himikiyo #himikiyoweek2021 #himiko yumeno #korekiyo shinguji #danganronpa #dr #drv3 #shinguji korekiyo #yumeno himiko #m

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aslihanxfahri-bailey · 3 years

Text

more than life itself || self para

Prompt: Travel back in time watching a video of a then-eight months pregnant Abigail Bailey, recording a video intended for Alex. Abi’s pregnancy was faced with a lot of challenges and problems that could’ve resulted in her dying.

Trigger Warnings: pregnancy, death, and labour mention

For as long as Abigail can remember, she’s created a baby box for Alex. Admittedly, it was more so of a childhood box; But nevertheless, in it, held memories. Alex’s favourites over the past five years, remnants of her nursery then her bedroom. Toys, clothes, a binkie, her favourite book. Anything that she wasn’t still using (such as her crocheted blanket she still slept with), was added to the box. Along with a scrapbook, filled with pictures all the way from when Abigail was pregnant with her. Ultrasounds to Abi’s progress photos, memories from the past five years. There also held a USB in the box, holding videos from the past five years as well. First crawl, first walk, first word, first tooth: everything. But… along in the big box, there held a smaller box. A box that when you opened up, was filled with things. A list of the best places to travel to, pictures of Abigail and of Atlas (both together and separate, all from their time together back in London), a picture of Abi’s favourite wolf that Atlas showed her, a statue. And a DVD. All one needed to do was put it into a laptop or DVD player and maybe… maybe, it’ll go along the lines of something like this:

Abigail sat in a rocking chair in the nursery. Smiling softly into the video camera. Her bangs had grown out, so has her hair, and she was in soft blue sundress. Her hands were resting on the bump she has, the young archaeologist now at eight months pregnant. “Hi, Alex,” she began, head tilting softly as she looked at the camera. “My name is Doctor Abigail Bailey. I was born in Istanbul, Turkey before being raised mainly in London, England, but I also spent a good portion of my years living in Cairo, Egypt. My birthday is July 15th, 1993 and I am 23 years old. I am an archaeologist and anthropologist who specializes in ancient civilizations. And I am your mother. I know that… you possibly know all these things already. I know that if you’re watching this, then, it means that… it means that I’m not with you. It means that, I died. A few weeks ago when I was still seven months pregnant with you, I discovered that I had placenta previa. Your placenta had been formed lower than usual. Placenta previa causes an abnormal amount of bleeding and it… it can be fatal. When it comes to the common symptoms and causes of it, I technically shouldn’t have it. But, I… I do. The doctor said that there is a chance that I could live. But, there’s also the chance that I couldn’t. And this… this video is meant to be a way that I could talk to you. This box,” she reached over and placed a small box on her lap, “is meant to be a way for us to still be connected, despite me not being here. I pray… God, I pray that you never have to watch this. That I am still with you years from now. But, it is better to be safe than sorry.

“Um, I guess I better start off with what’s all in here,” she mused, clearing her throat. “I, I-I wrote down a list of the best places you need to travel to at least once in your life. If you’re anything like your father and I, I am certain that you’re going to love adventure. That you’re curious to see more of the world, discover more things. I also wrote down some of the best historical books. Now, there might be a couple of books in the future that are good, so talk to your grandfather about that. But these? These are a couple of my favourites. Especially this one.” She held up a book, one that is well-read and extremely loved. Abi looked down at it and smiled softly. Her fingers tracing over the cover. “Your father… Your father wrote a note to me once in this book. It had been my favourite long before he ever did that. But… I suppose that that’s another reason why. I won’t tell you what it is; I want you to read it and find out yourself. But I hope that you’ll take a lot from it. Not just your father’s note. I also got a bunch of photographs in here featuring your father and I. We met one day at my favourite book shop. He’d asked me for advice on a history book and… Something just clicked. I felt comfortable with him, I just… I wanted to get to know him better. We went to lunch together to Pomodoro’s and eventually, I brought him back to the manor. Talked to him about all kinds of history stuff and just spending time with him. Little did we know, he would end up staying with me for three weeks. Those three weeks… I don’t think I can describe how happy I had been. Just being with him and spending time with him… I fell hard and I fell fast. I had never been through something like that before: he became my first. My first of so many things. When he had to leave, it shattered me. I wanted to go with him. I wanted to ask him to come with me to Egypt. I was suppose to be going there soon for an excavation for a couple of months and… I don’t know why I didn’t ask him. And I regret it so, so much. I wish I had the confidence to tell him everything I wanted to say. I hope that you have the confidence I lacked.”

Sniffing, Abi wiped at her eyes before breathing out a laugh. “I’m sorry,” she wiped her tears away some more. “I-I’m sorry, I… I’ve missed him so much, always hoped that I would see him again. That I would get to hold him in my arms and kiss him, that the three of us could be a family. I have been wishing for that for the past couple of months. So this…” She shook her head away. Placing the box away, she kept her eyes on the camera. “Alex, I beg of you… please don’t blame yourself for this. I love you more than life itself and I would do anything… absolutely anything… to ensure your happiness, that you’re healthy and safe. I don’t want you to bear any guilt over my not being here. I just want you to live your life and to be happy. The pregnancy… it hasn’t been an easy one. I’ve been really sick throughout it. My body has experience so much pain and trying to go about it all… it was difficult. I’ve spent a majority of my pregnancy in Egypt. Which, hasn’t exactly been the easiest thing either. But it’s okay: I’ve done everything I could to ensure that you’re okay. And I always will, alive or dead. There is still a chance that I’ll make it. We are planning on trying to do a caesarean section for labor, which could help. But I… If that happens, I’m scared about the future. I’m scared about you wanting to be a big sibling. I’m scared of wanting to have more kids. There’s a 2-3% chance that I could have placenta previa in another pregnancy. And admittedly, that terrifies me. If I make it and I want more kids in the future, I’m not sure what I’ll do. I just… I hope to come up with a plan, if that is the case. But… if I don’t make it…”

Abi sighed softly. Her fingers traced over her bump before glancing up again. “I really hope that you’re with your dad,” she whispered. “My parents promised me that they were going to tell him about you if I don’t make it. That they’ll explain everything. Your father’s name is Atlas Williams. He was born and raised in Providence Peak, Colorado. His family owns Wolf Wild Rescue and he loves those wolves so much. I remember the look on his face as he talked about the wolves and the rescue for the first time. Just how proud he was. Your father is many things, Alex. He’s passionate, he has a love for adventure. He’s curious, about the world and about history, about so many different facts and trivia. He’s loyal. He’s caring and gentle, so incredibly gentle. For a man as giant as he is, it’s incredible how gentle he truly is. Or can be. He’s got a wicked sense of humor and he’s protective. He’s also intelligent. And god, he’s handsome. He’s got these eyes that just capture you, this smile that is brighter than the Egyptian sun, this laugh that warms you right up, and his arms? When he holds you and you know that you’re safe, that you are at peace and at home? I have been everywhere in the world, but I have never felt more at peace in a place than in his arms. I know that there’s more to him. I know that he has a temper and sometimes, he’s more prone to fighting than talking. But every time he’s gotten into a fight, or at least the ones that I’ve seen, he was defending me. He isn’t great at talking, prefers to show than tell. Perhaps he’s worked on that the past couple of years, of raising you. There are probably a lot of things about him that I don’t know still. And I genuinely hope that I’ll make it and I will find out more about him. Because I know that there is more to the man than just the man I knew in London. And I’m ready to love him just as much as I love the London Atlas.”

Abigail paused for a moment. Taking a shaky breath, she looked down at her bump. Fingers softly tracing it. “Alex, if… if your father is around, can you please give me a moment to talk to him?” Her words came out in a whisper, the young woman visibly nervous. Yet as she wiped away her tears and tried to make herself presentable, she gave herself a minute. Before looking back up at the camera. And she smiled warmly. “Hey, Las.

"Before I say anything else, I want to start off by saying this: I’m sorry. I am so, so sorry for not telling you about Alex months ago. There has never been a moment where you weren’t on my mind and never a moment where I haven’t almost contacted you. E-mail you, call you through the rescue’s line, gotten on social media and hopefully find you. I… I ended up losing my phone on my way to Egypt. I don’t know how or when, but I did. And I had told you prior that I had programmed my laptop so that I could strictly do work on it, so that wasn’t an option to use to contact you either. It wasn’t until I got back here in London when I finally had the options to do so. But I… I’ve been scared. I’ve been so scared the past few months over what you would say or do. I didn’t… I-I didn’t want to face rejection. I was scared that you wouldn’t want to see me or the baby and… and I’m sorry. I am so, so sorry.” It was getting harder to breathe and she wiped away her tears. “The moment I found out about Alex, though… I did have a moment of bravery. After I was released from the hospital, I made my way to the airport. I was trying to find the best flights to Denver. And for a moment, I almost did. But my mentor ended up stopping me. There’d been a big discovery at the site that I needed to see. I had work to do there, I… I was on a loan from the government and responsible for so many workers. I was paying them, responsible for them to be able to provide for their families. This was my first excavation. I couldn’t… I couldn’t leave. There was so much at stake. But I told myself that I would get a phone, contact my mother so that she could give me the information for the rescue, and I’ll call you. And I did… expect for calling you. I had a nightmare that night. I dreamt that I told you and… a-and you wanted nothing to do with us. I had a few more dreams like that that eventually bled into real life. It was all I could think about for so long that every time I tried to contact you, I got too scared. And I hate that so much. But it… it hasn’t stopped me from trying to include you, or at least your presence, in our kid’s life. Like their name, for example.

"Alex is a Greek name, meaning ‘warrior’ or ‘defender of mankind’. As of right now, I don’t know if Alex is an Alexander or an Alexandria. I came up with many different names over the past few months. A lot of them were after many different historical figures or places. However, one day during one of my last few days off, I went up to Alexandria to see some friends. Alexandria had been on my list of names, because of the infamous library and the great conqueror, but it wasn’t one I was completely set on. My friends and I went to a couple of different museums that day there, including the Graeco-Roman museum. While I had been roaming the statue garden, thinking about the baby and of you again, I stopped in front of a statue. It was the Titan Atlas, with the world on his shoulders. Standing there and looking at him, I knew instantly that the baby’s name, was Alex. In that moment, everything felt right, it… it was almost as if you were there with me. As if somehow, you had helped me pick the name. And I couldn’t pick any other name afterwards.” Laughing, she stood up and reached for the camera, taking it off the stand before showing off an area in the nursery. Right there, was a tiny statue of the Titan Atlas. “I bought it from the gift shop right afterwards,” she mentioned. She then moved back and placed the video camera back on it’s stand. Moving to sit back down, there was a visible strain on her features. She let out soft whispers and gasps as she got herself situated, pain on her face while she cradled the bump with one hand. Her eyes were shut for a moment, Abi trying to take a couple of deep breaths to soothe herself back to before. “I’m okay,” she whispered, resting her head against the chair as a tear rolled down her cheek. “I-I’m okay… Atlas, I… From the moment I found out, I tried to find ways to include you. I tried to tell you so many times over the past few months and I’m so sorry. Maybe you’ve forgiven me… Maybe you haven’t… But for what it’s worth, I’m sorry.

"I wish that I could tell you that myself,” she whimpered. “There’s so much I wish I could. And I… I’m sorry that I’ve never had the courage to do so before. But I… Since I’m dead now, maybe I finally do: I’m in love with you, Atlas Williams. I wish I got to tell you that to your face, I… I wish I found your note first. Had I known, I would’ve gone straight to Denver to see you again. I’ve always wished that I got to see you again. That we could’ve gotten a real chance, that we could’ve been a family. That I could’ve gotten more time with you, fallen in love with you more. I wish that I could kiss you again. Hold your hand once more, fall asleep in your arms as you list off some random fact, how completely and wonderfully fascinated you are by it. I wish that our goodbye in the airport won’t be our last. That that wasn’t the last time you held me in your arms, that it wasn’t the last time you kissed me. I wish that I got to hear you tell me you love me instead of having to read them in a book on a flight while over Greece. I wish we had more time. I wish I got to tell you how much I love you. That I had gotten to witness us grow old together, share a life together while raising Alex. All the good and the bad moments, I wish we had gotten them together. That we gotten to stand by each other’s side and work things out together as a team. That I had gotten to know each and every single thing about you and gotten the chance to love you for everything you are, both the man in London and the man in Providence Peak. I wish we had gotten more time. I wish I told you I love you, that I’m in love with you. I’m so sorry for never saying anything. I’m so sorry it took this long. I just… I hope you forgive me. That you’ll love our child twice as hard for me. Because Alex… Alex really needs you. So much and I wish that I was there. I’m sorry that I’m not. I love you both, more than I could ever possibly say. Please don’t forget that. Can… Can you bring Alex here, please?”

She waited again, taking another moment. She wiped away her tears that she’d been crying, trying to steady her breathing. Hoping that Alex would now be watching, she placed a smile on her face again. “Alright! I just… I wanted to leave this on a high note. I’ve cried a lot in this and I… I have never cried so much before in my life. I hate it, so much. But I just wanted to say: take that list of travel ideas and go on an adventure together. Share as much of them together as possible… and think of me. Especially if you both come to Egypt. I’ve always wanted to take you both there and in a way, I will be. I’m with you both always. There’s... There’s so much I wish the three of us could’ve done. I wish that the three of us could’ve been a family. I’m so sorry for being too scared of doing anything about it, for being too late. I hope you both can forgive me eventually.” Gently, she wiped away her tears. Letting out a breathy sigh and looking at the camera softly, one hand resting on the bump and the other toying with her necklace. The young historian smiling peacefully. “Atlas and Alex Williams: I love you both more than life itself. Don’t forget that. Please don’t forget me. I love you.”

Blowing a kiss to camera, she waved and gave one final smile, before the video ended.

Abigail had spent 43 hours in labour. It had been a rather peaceful day (more or less) in the Bailey manor when Abi needed to walk, having been on bedrest for the last remaining weeks of her pregnancy. She’d been found in the library of the manor, passed out with a small pool of blood, a trail leading from the entrance to her spot. Her father, Richard Bailey, had been the one who found her and quickly took her to the nearest hospital. They had to perform an emergency C-section, delivering a healthy baby girl at 7 pounds and 6 ounces. Unfortunately, Abigail had hemorrhaged during labour and they almost lost her before they were able to stabilize her. She spent three days afterwards in a coma, her parents alternating between taking care of Alexandria Jane Williams and being there for their daughter. She eventually woke up and spent a week in the hospital regaining her strength before heading back home, where once again she spent a month on bedrest with baby Alex resting in a bassinet next to Abi’s bed. The archaeologist eventually getting her health back, all the while taking care of her daughter while loving and protecting her.

#( writings. )#tw: pregnancy #tw: death mention #tw: labour #pregnancy tw #death mention tw #labour tw

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bexterbex · 4 years

Text

A Soul to Mend His Own | Ch. 32

If you haven’t heeded my warnings by now you have done it to yourself.

A Kylo Ren x Modern! Reader in a soulmate au with some canon divergence. —————————————SLOWBURN————————————–

He is already the Supreme leader, searching the universe to find you, his Empress. Your name on his wrist has been the only constant in his life, while you have doubts about his existence and his acceptance of you. He isn’t in the database and why did the name Kylo Ren cover Ben Solo?

MASTERLIST

Chapter 32: A Morning Exercise

Your alarm woke you up at the ungodly hour of 5:30 AM. You rolled out of bed and started to get ready. At 5:45 you were finished and left your room. The lieutenant was waiting for you in the living room like usual, as was Kylo who was wearing a similar outfit as the morning before except this time he was wearing a white tank instead of a black one.

“Good morning, are you ready to head to the training room? It is halfway across the ship, so we should get going,” asked Kylo.

“Yes,” you replied excitedly.

He took your arm and you left. You made your ways through the halls and you were surprised to see that there were little to know officers and ‘troopers roaming about. You supposed that the ship really only wakes up at around 6:00 AM, as it was still Alpha shift. You made your way to a room with a larger than a normal door.

Entering the room you notice a large number of generals and other high-level officers on the outside of a large training area. Many of the high-ranking officers had lower-level officers by their sides, much like your own Lieutenant Mitaka.

Kylo released you next to Allegiant General Hux, who greeted you kindly. “Good morning m’lady, my suggestion to you this time around would be to place credits on the Supreme Leader.”

You laughed at his suggestion, and then promptly yawned as you had yet to have any coffee.

“Shall I order you stimcaf m’lady,” asked the redheaded general.

“Stimcaf? Is that like coffee?”

“Yes, m’lady but with a much higher caffeine count.”

“Yes, please” you groaned out. Which earned a hearty chuckle from the general who turned to his aide.

Within a few minutes, a junior officer appeared with a steaming cup of dark liquid in their hand. You thanked them and proceeded to wait for the sparring to begin. Kylo was discussing something with an officer and then turned to the knights to begin.

If you thought watching Captain Phasma and Commander Pyre was amazing, it had nothing on what you were witnessing now.

Kylo was monstrously strong.

They were sparing like the captain and the commander with metal staffs and dull swords. It was six against one at the moment, Kylo was showing his strength and dominance by easily maneuvering out of the way of any oncoming hits. Something about the way he was moving and dodging was magical. You couldn’t have paid the best ballerinas in Paris to move more gracefully than the knights and him. They put The Nutcracker to shame.

All while they were fighting various officers were giving Kylo updates on things around the First Order and he was responding in time. He was truly a marvel to watch.

Even though you thought it might be impossible seeing as the knights were all really strong, somehow Kylo was even stronger. He was broader and taller than his knights, but the strength comes mainly from his chest, shoulders, and thighs. You wondered how his massive hands might help his overall strength.

Although they were all graceful Kylo seemed more refined in the way he fought, but very ferociously. His whole body was an extension of the weapon in his hand, his sword. He was deadly, you wondered how many people have faced him on the battle and lived, you doubted if there were very many if at all.

You watched as they all tried to attack him at once he took them down with calculated efficiency without any obvious use of the Force. Cardo and Ushar were sent down to the floor, Ap’lek and Trudgen flew back to the wall, Kuruk and Vicrul were sent stumbling back into a group of officers who thought they were a safe distance away.

You failed to notice General Pryde come up alongside you, opposite to Hux. “Magnificent to watch isn’t he,” asked Pryde.

You were startled before you agreed.

“Unlike many in the First Order now, I had the glorious opportunity to watch his grandfather, Lord Vader, fight. They have many similarities. It was truly an honor to watch,” said Pryde. There was something disturbing in the way he was watching the training. Somehow he had an air of lust for the power that Kylo held, it rather disturbed you.

“Now Pryde her history lessons are with me after lunch. There is no need to plague her with your useless ideals of the past,” said Hux sneering toward the man.

You could tell that Pryde was holding his tongue, probably as to not get in trouble so soon after the last time. He bowed and stepped away from you joining the Admiral Griss in a discussion with another officer.

“It would do you best to avoid him for now, I don’t believe he has truly learned his lesson yet,” said Hux who then gave some sort of order to his aide. A female officer who appeared to be a general gave out the debrief of, “Yesterday was the last day of registration on earth. Currently, we still have less than 1 percent of the population that needs to register. The unregistered seemed to be mostly from populations that are normally inaccessible from earth’s records. Might I suggest that we send in a company of ‘troopers to each location.”

“You said they were typically inaccessible? These are mostly people who have little to no contact with the outside world. Sending in stormtroopers would only lead them to panic and possibly attacking them. You should consult with an anthropologist before proceeding to make contact,” you responded to the general.

Kylo paused in his sparring and the other officers paused in what they were doing. All eyes were on you. There was a look of confusion on his face, but before he spoke General Hux spoke upcoming to your aid. “Why do you suggest this m’lady?”

“I am assuming some of the people you have yet to come into contact are various tribes from around the world. They still might be using bows and arrows and have no idea what electricity is. They may even still worship the sun as a god. They also do not tend to have any papers of any kind or they may not even have any sort of writing system. Our governments leave them alone for many reasons, but one of the biggest reasons is they do not have the same inherent immunity to some diseases so unless you vaccinate them immediately they may all die soon. They are an important part of history on this planet and should be disturbed as little as possible,” you said.

“But these people will have to follow the will of the First Order,” said the female general pleading to the Supreme Leader.

Kylo took what you said into consideration before saying, “You heard Lady Ren. Unless I dispute her, what she says goes.”

“And what of the people who are not in these tribes? There is a large portion of people out in the state of Utah who refuse to register and some many others across your planet. What are we to do with them,” asked the general still seemingly indignant.

“Well by the way you are describing it, I believe you are discussing a cult. I personally have no problem with sending in stormtroopers unannounced to them. In my opinion, they have it coming to them. If there are any small groups or families that have failed to register I would do the same thing by sending ‘troopers to them,” you said.

This seemed to pacify the female general sufficiently and Kylo resumed his sparring with the knights after a head-nod to you. You were happy with your minor victory.

“Well done m’lady, not many are able to stand their ground with General Parnadee,” said Hux quietly with approval. Everyone seemed to turn back to what they were doing before your interruption.

“Thank you general. I will take that as a compliment.”

“As you should m’lady. You have done better than anyone has expected you to do,” said Hux with a slight bounce of pride.

You gave him a smile and a nod. At this time the knights and Kylo had ceased sparing. Each of the knights seemed to try to catch their collective breaths while Kylo seamed already collected. He approached you and you could now see the nice sheen that his sweat had created on his skin. He was glowing.

“Shall we return for breakfast,” asked Kylo holding out his arm to you.

You nodded, words failing you as you marveled in his glow. He guided you through the halls which were now filling with people but unlike when he wears his mask, people were giving him a much wider berth. You wondered if there was a rule against seeing him without his mask or if it was just a faux pas.

You were back at your chambers and went immediately to the dining room to order breakfast and coffee for the lieutenant. Your breakfasts came and you enjoyed them before the lieutenant gave you your morning schedule update.

“Today you have a long heath committee meeting that starts earlier today at 9:00 hours. The Supreme Leader will be in attendance. This meeting will also be a luncheon. After the meeting, you are to return to the ship to receive an extra hour of tutoring to make up for yesterday. Then you have dinner with the Supreme Leader as normal. Is there anything you would like to add m’lady,” asked Mitaka.

“The only thing I would like to add to that schedule is several orders of stimcaf.” This received a shy chuckle from the lieutenant and a smirk from Kylo who got up and headed to his room to shower away his morning sweat.

Kylo was in and out of the shower in a matter of a few minutes. You were both ready to go at 8:30 for your shuttle descent to the surface. You were joined by Ap’lek and Kuruk as your guards and Hux was still the general escorting you to your meeting.

You knew that this meeting would be worlds different from the others for the simple fact that Kylo had decided to join you. You were worried about what it would mean and the outcome. As he had said earlier, what you say goes unless he disputes it. But what if he disputes everything you say? You were not ready for that. You held out hope that you would still be able to fight for your planet. Even if that meant fighting Kylo for it.

#kylo ren #kylo ren x reader #kylo ren imagine #kylo x reader #kylo x you #star wars #first order #star wars imagine #Star wars soulmate au #sw first order imagine #star wars first order #finding the perfect gif takes too long #a soul to mend his own #enric pride #knights of ren #armitage hux #dopheld mitaka

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romanationmovement · 3 years

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Roma steal Children? (PART)

To analyze and destroy this scientifically stereotype UCRI interviewed anthropologist Sabrina Tosi Cambini, professor of cultural anthropology at the University of Florence, one of Italy's leading Romology researchers.

Among his numerous publications,

There's ′′ The Gypsy kidnapper. Tales, complaints, judgments (1986-2007)′′ (Cisu, Rome, 2015).

/ 2 / Denise's case has come back: what do you think, why do you think he is still accused of

Roma people?

In the last chapters of the book I also talk about disappearance cases, some not solved: I am in all one

Dozen and when the case has been solved (dramatically) you find that the culprit is close to the family, but instead you always go looking for the culprit, far away,

operating immediately a denial of what unfortunately almost always emerges (stories, ad

Example of abuse perpetrated by someone ′′ close ′′).

Moreover, we witness a reversal of what is the rule of law: we often see that in case

of ′′ fragile ′′ minorities, who don't have a strong representative voice, guilt isn't already

considered as individual but collective.

We always try to blame people who want to exclude themselves, use as scapegoats: the

Rom, the immigrant, etc. Warning, though: these processes are also being carried out by the

institutions.

When a group suffers structural violence, unfortunately the same increase

domestic violence and it is never specified that such violence is due to violence suffered

from the outside.

You should never, moreover, believe that you know what's best for a community or for a community

group: you can give tools, advise, but never replace; and you need to work a lot

with the majority, to eradicate stereotypes, especially in this case, to make it clear that the

Roma children are much better cared for than other children.

I get shocked when the expert of

Shift and, just because he spoke to 10 families, he thinks he has it all figured out.

I have been working with for 12 years

Several families with whom a bond has also been created, almost familiar, and I still have many to understand

Things.

Whoever comes with done and finished projects, with the ′′ solution ", in my opinion, risks doing great

damage.

(Di Ervin Eid

We thank Dr. Cambini for her willingness and professionalism to give UCRI interview)

#ucri #rom #sinti #verita #STEREOTIPI

#Italy #Romani #Gypsy #LaZingara #Zingara #Roma

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m-y-fandoms · 4 years

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Korekiyo Shinguuji x oblivious crush reader - short imagine

Request: could i request some headcanons or an imagine (whichever you prefer, i’m not picky lol) for Korekiyo with a crush on an incredibly oblivious female reader who never realizes he’s trying to flirt with her/trying to see if she likes him back? sorry if this is a weird request haha :,)

THIS ISN’T A WEIRD REQUEST, KIYO IS MY BABY DADDY. Also you requested female reader, but I wrote this with a female in mind and then realized I never used any feminine-assigned words or pronouns in here, so anyone can read this with themselves in mind! - Mod Kokichi

Warnings: PG-13 in terms of sexual/romantic scenarios and wording

“So, in essence, that is why the Egyptians worshipped Hathor, in all her grace and beauty. Isn’t that fascinating, y/n?” Korekiyo mused, watching you carefully as you waltzed through the rows of scrolls and ancient texts in his research lab.

“Yes, it’s a wonderful story! You really are lucky to have traveled to Eygpt! Heck, I’d never even left Japan until...well coming to wherever we are trapped now. Do you mind?” You pointed to a particularly intricate and elaborate book cover on a high up shelf.

“Not at all, my dear. Feel free to take any materials from my lab that you wish, as long as you promise I can visit your lab freely as well?” You let the words ‘my dear’ ghost over your ears with little to no reaction. Normally, if such a handsome man had playfully rolled those words off of his tongue in your direction, your neck hairs would have stood on end like a startled cat, but with Korekiyo it was different. You did harbor some...feelings for him, but he called everyone dear, right? He was always spewing mature and polite crap like that.

“Yeah, of course, though I don’t know why an anthropologist would ever waste his time in a plain old dance studio,” you chuckled, on your tip-toes struggling for the tome far above you. Korekiyo snuck up behind you, his chest warm against your back as he reached up and plucked the book down for you, placing it gently in your hands. You held the book to your own chest and turned to face him, finding yourself flush against the wooden bookshelf with the lanky anthropologist trapping you in place. “Thanks, Kiyo!” You felt blood rush to your cheeks as he tilted his head at you like a curious puppy hearing the word ‘treat!’ You tried to settle your stuttering heart. Surely he was just being nice, right?

“Think nothing of it…” his hands came up slowly on either side of your head, caging you in between his slender arms. “You know, y/n, Hathor is known mainly for her impressive duality. She balances femininity and softness with strength and vengeance. She is a protector, but also is the harbinger of dance, joy, love...sexuality.” His voice deepened into a rasp that was like melted chocolate flowing freely over your ears. His proximity was beginning to make you dizzy. “You remind me of Hathor in many ways. I see the way you take care of your friends here, the way you defend people, but also the with which you dance: the water-like movements of your passion.”

“...” you stood there, silent for a moment, and then another moment, and then another. He looked at your expectantly, his expression unreadable through his mask. “Well, thanks, Kiyo! I never thought you’d be into ballet! Though I guess dance is a part of culture as much as anything else!” You ducked under his arm with a chipper attitude, shuffling into the open space of his lab, and he sighed deeply, looking at the ground in self-pity. Were you really not interested in him? He couldn’t blame you. Many people saw him as a creep, a pariah. He was a teenager that wore a mask at all times for crying out loud. He endlessly spewed random facts and unsolicited folk tales. Of course people avoided him. But you...you visited him every day. Before his lab opened up, you met with him in the library and inquired about his day. You asked him to eat lunch with you, and walk you back to the dorms after dinner. You asked to hear his stories, and he found himself growing to like you more and more. He didn’t want to admit his feelings until he knew for sure that you felt the same, but it was looking like his old friend, rejection, might win the war once again.

“Kiyo, this lab is simply amazing! You’re so lucky... you got the biggest one yet! My studio looks like a janitor’s closet compared to this!” You spun around on the new floor on his lab, taking in the sights, book in hand. You’d been here every day since it opened, but dedicated yourself to one section a day, having only reached this floor earlier that evening. You thought knowledge like this deserved time and respect. Korekiyo agreed of course.

“Well when one’s area of study is the entire world, a proportionately large area is needed for said study,” he drawled, slinking along behind you as you sat in a chair on the main floor. He sat in the chair across from you in front of the wall of display cases holding ceremonial swords and masks as you fingered through the book in wonder.

“Woah…” your eyes widened innocently.

“Ahhh, the Kama Sutra? You’re holding one of the oldest copies known to man.” He leaned closer to you, splaying his fingers over the page you were on slowly and seductively. “I had no idea you were this kind of person, y/n…” there’s that confectionary tone again, sweet and dripping with carnal desire.

“N-no of course not I just...what kind of person do you mean? I mean...I think the book is just interesting, the cover and the design on the spine drew me in and-“

“We should never judge a book based on its cover, yes?” He let his honeyed-words sink in to your doe-like eyes, “I think human beings, much like this book, hide things within our pages not immediately evident on our covers.”

“I agree…” his words flew right over your head. “Like you! I didn’t know you had an interest in ballet at all!” He was starting to get frustrated, but he exhaled deeply, his inner voice telling him to have patience.

“Well, yes, I’ve seen many different forms of dance, and of course, ballet is delicate and breath-taking, but also very strenuous. Another thing we shouldn’t take at face value. I’ve seen the feet of many a poor dancer after a performance, and it really is a harsh contrast to the grace of the dance itself.”

“Yes, yes! You get it!” He smiled at your child-like wonder, with you seeing only the crinkle of his eyes above the mask. “I know so many men who don’t even think dance of any kind can be a sport. I think many so-called atheletes would give up on day one of ballet lessons.” You chuckled, and he let himself be enveloped in your laughter. He was complete entranced in your aura.

“So, you will allow me to view your ballet practice in private some time? I’ve seen you with your lab door open in passing, but I would be absolutely delighted if you’d honor me with a private session, so I could focus on you and only you.” He leaned forward, his elbows on his knees, his long raven hair falling around him like a bed canopy.

“Oh, Kiyo…” you began, your own heart hurting at the words you were about the speak, but it was for the best. You didn’t want to waste his time, not in a place like this. “I know you’re interested in ballet, but after those first two trials and this whole not-knowing-when-we-are-gonna-die thing, I don’t think it would be a worthy use of your time to pull yourself away from all of this,” you gestured to the gigantic room around you, “in order to-”

“Y/N-!” He spoke angrily and abruptly, startling you, before composing himself and beginning again, taking the book from your hand and instead intertwining his fingers in your own. “...I am not interested in ballet, so much as I am interested in you. Do you understand?” You felt your body tense up in complete shock. He wasn’t serious right…? He was teasing you, taking advantage of your naïveté and your obvious feelings for him. Maybe you weren’t hiding them as well as you’d thought.

“Me…?” You looked at his wrapped hand in yours, the bandages scratchy texture pulling you back down to earth.

“Yes, you.” He spoke bluntly, with nothing but compassion in his voice.

“But you’re...you’re so…” he braced himself, waiting for the insults and degrading comments that always followed when he let his walls down around normal people.

“...Odd? Long-winded? A freak of nature?” He sighed, pulling away.

“Beautiful…” you could hardly hear your own words pouring from your mouth, the pounding of your heart beat too loud in your ears. You grabbed his hand, and in a moment of fragile silence, began to unwrap the linen that covered every inch of his fingers, then down to his palms and wrists. His hands, now revealed to you fully for the first time, were just as beautiful as his voice and cat-like golden eyes. They were pale, ghostly, ethereal. They looked like they could break at the slightest touch, but withstand any hard labor that was thrown at them at the same time. “Korekiyo, you spend so much time telling others that humanity is beautiful, that you haven’t taken the time to see it in yourself, have you? At least...not for a long while.”

“Y/N, I-” you reached for the top of his mask with shaking fingers, and he jerked away roughly, terrified. When you reached out again, he didn’t move, steeling himself to be exposed to you. You deserved to see the truth. His eyelids fluttered closed, and his heart dropped into his stomach.

Your fingertips lingered at the top of the mask before tugging it down gently. He kept his eyes shut tightly as you observed his full face.

The tip of his nose, which you could tell from the nose bridge was thin, came to an adorable point above his lips. A delicate, milky white chin led up on either side to a sharp jawline, high cheekbones and a flawless complexion. That powdery complexion was met in stark contrast to the blood-red pigment of a matte lipstick staining his lips.

“Y/N, I didn’t want you to see me...truly see me for the first time like thi-” you brought your lips closer to his until they were touching, and soon found yourself leaning into his chest, into his lap in his seated position in front of you. Your lips pressed into his, a bit more bold now, and your confidence spurred his own. You now straddled his hips, your legs on either side of his thighs, and he grabbed your hips, his hands shaking like a leaf in the wind. He pulled back, scanning your face for any regret, any shame or fear, and sensing none, crashed his lips onto yours again. He roughly sucked on your bottom lip, pulling a small moan from your mouth that excited him more than anything corporeal had in a long time. You never thought he’d be such a good kisser.

“Korekiyo…” you pulled back again, giving you both some much-needed air. “I never thought that...someone like you would even glance my way. You’re so intelligent, so regal and elegant and different from the norm and…” your words trailed off, and his thumb reached up to your lips, roughly wiping away the red lipstick that clung onto your face as a reminder that he had been there.

“Likewise, y/n,” he reclined back into the chair with you still on his lap, a little too cocky and cheeky for his own good, but to say the smirk on his messy red mouth wasn’t turning you on would be a lie.

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skylights422 · 4 years

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Seed of a Memory

Here is my piece for @arowrimo! This features D&D iterations of my novel characters, and there’s a lot more to both of these characters’ stories, but hopefully this serves as a nice introduction to them.

Title: Seed of a Memory

Language: English

Category: Short Story (Theme: Subverting Romantic Tropes, Fantasy)

Prompt: Friendship

Genre: Fantasy, Drama

Word count: 1907

Content warnings: Brief mentions of racism and arophobia.

Summary: Fiera Casales takes a stroll with her pretend boyfriend and ponders the importance of things like love and memory.

Cold. Distant. That’s what the others had always called her, in whispers that faded down the corridors, in offhand remarks that begged judgement be met with indifference. Ever since she had awoken surrounded by cold ruins, vague images and feelings telling her that whoever she had been, she had been unwanted, and decided to become an anthropologist. They admired her skill in spell casting and dedication to her cause, but questioned her work, and refrained from getting too close. They doubted a high elf lacking the famed fair complexion could advance at such a rate without deception. They thought it undignified to spend so much time studying the cultures of ‘lesser’ species.

But it was well enough that they did not want to spend time with her. She did not very much want to spend time with them either. They were narrow minded and could tell her nothing of her missing past. They gossiped about her ‘lack of love’ despite their own callous indifference towards her. It was enough to simply know how they thought, and how to best maneuver them to make her life easier.

It was also, she had to admit, more convenient for her current study that she not have much to lose in regards to relationships, as she was currently committing an unwritten social taboo simply to see what changes it might or might not have in the long run: she was ‘dating’ a drow elf.

The bitter, hated enemy of her people, so often described as ruthless killers and amoral abominations, as nature’s greatest mistake. She had often wondered if the drow were half as vile as the stories told, but after having met one it seemed more likely the hatred came from an old grudge allowed to fester, the separation of their countries making outlandish exaggerations difficult to disprove. A high elf being a partner to a drow elf was unheard of, and she had just enough status to see the effects of such a scandal.

The drow elf in question, who now lead her down a street gently by the arm, was a fellow by the name of Kadri. They had met quite by chance at a library, when she was knocked down a staircase and nearly took him down with her. Things were sorted out, and she had immediately wanted to interview him despite her own nervousness once realizing what he was. It took some persuasion, and the promise to make the interview a two-way one (she felt she was enormously fortunate that the first person from her sworn enemy’s country was a scholar such as herself), but she got to spend the day conversing with him. Despite the clear distrust he held towards her and his barely concealed agitation, it proved to be one of the more amiable and fascinating conversations she’d ever had. He answered questions thoroughly and with a frank wryness, and asked thoughtful questions in return.

During the next two weeks they met up every day to talk more, and typically ended up conversing for hours on end. They were both frank with their prejudices, though she felt them growing more at ease as time went on. She learned Kadri was a warlock, sworn to serve the demon Kir’giren after they saved his life when he was a child, and was disappointed but unsurprised to learn he had suffered several times at the hands of her people. She told him about her fractured memories, and of her time spent with the sea elves.

By the time Kadri had to depart to serve his master on some quest, she was surprised to find that she was missing his company. She didn’t tend to miss people, if anything she felt more at ease when she alone in her house. Usually the only feelings of longing she felt were in connection to her mangled memories, the faces she could recall but not quite put into context. She definitely couldn’t call the feeling she had love, if she had to guess she probably missed the intellectual challenge of working with someone so different and so on edge.

Regardless of the cause, she determined that if ever they crossed paths again, they would speak at length. That was when she realized that he would actually be perfect for an experiment that she had had in mind for some time, if he could be persuaded. Suffice to say, they did cross paths again, she did manage to persuade him to fake being her partner for up to six months, and they had now been living together and pretending to date for a little over a month. And the initial reaction of her people was horrified confusion as she and Kadri had expected, but over the weeks, opinions started to become more varied. Some applauded their bravery, others thought Kadri had cruelly put her under an enchantment, and some thought this was the final proof that she was a willful traitor and could never be trusted.

Just walking down the street as they were now, people were glancing and glaring at them, some people hurried to get out of their presence, others stared and whispered to their neighbors. They were walking through the city square, browsing some shops before looking for a place to eat.

“Are your thoughts happy, Fiera?” Kadri asked, snapping her out of her reverie.

“Huh? Oh, I was just reminiscing a bit. So perhaps bittersweet is a better descriptor. Why, did I look happy?” she asked.

“You looked contemplative. Are your contemplations ones you’d wish to share?” he said. Fiera turned to look at him properly. Even now he insisted on keeping his hood up in public, and his eyes were watchful, but underneath the wariness he did seem genuinely curious.

“I suppose…if I may ask, what do you think of love? I promise it’s relevant,” she said. Kadri seemed only slightly taken aback by the question; one of the first things she had told him before agreeing to the experiment was that she would never love him, and if he fell in love with her then that was his own problem to deal with alone, so he already knew the subject was one she had given thought to. He gave the question a moment of thought before answering.

“If anything, I think it is something I understand very poorly. I claim only to love Kir’giren, but that is truthfully a wild oversimplification. I know it drives others in equal parts to great acts of generosity and great acts of cruelty. I know there is very little agreement, between individuals or between groups, what exactly ‘true’ love is, and yet they at the same time take for granted that people will recognize it with ease and react accordingly. I have read enough to have some idea what most people see as loving actions, and to know that it is associated with attachment. But that is where my knowledge ends, I’m afraid.” He said.

“Then you don’t know much more than myself,” Fiera sighed. “I was wondering about the nature of feelings, and the nature of relationships, and how they relate to memory. You have all your memories intact, and have, I believe, had crushes before, so I hoped you might be able to offer some insight. You don’t suppose emotions can be born of memories, do you?” Kadri looked quizzical.

“Crushes? I would hardly relate those to love…ah, but to answer your question, not exactly. I think it more accurate to say emotions are associated with memories. We do feel things in the present, after all.” He said.

“True…then I ask you instead, are there any memories you would forget if you could? Would you still be you if you had different memories?” she said. She knew she was prying at what was both purely a hypothetical and quite possibly personal, but the possibility of losing more memories, or of not being who she used to be, were ones she considered often. If she asked too personal a question Kadri would just tell her that.

“Hmm… I believe it may be more truthful to say there are many things I wish had never happened to me in the first place. But they did happen, so I would not let go of them.” He said. Then he chuckled to himself. “But then, I am an incredibly miserable person often stuck in the past. Surely, if I had different memories, the essence of me would be the same, but I would see the world in a different light.” Fiera thought about that. Without her old memories, she had been forced to grow new ones, and she wasn’t discontent with them…

“That is fair. I suppose I just wonder if my old memories have truly withered away or not. It can feel strange to be ‘moving on’ when that is not certain.” She said.

“Well, I suppose it would be hypocritical of me to in any way judge…” Then his expression grew slightly softer. “Truly, Fiera, you are not lacking in any respect. You are exceptionally driven and kind, and brilliant beyond compare. I do not doubt you will find joy and peace in your own way, no matter the circumstances of your memories or your relationship with that nebulous thing called ‘love’.” Fiera smiled at that. Kadri would sometimes just say stuff like that, about her or about some of his old travel companions, and yet still denied having friends or attachments in this world outside of his master. Though she did sometimes wonder if he simply idolized anyone who wasn’t cruel to him. Either way, it was an appreciated statement even if she yearned to be able to confirm its truth in a more concrete way.

“You are kind to say so. I have a similar faith in you.” She said, and she did believe it. Kadri gave a laugh, and the thinly veiled pain in his eyes made it clear that he didn’t.

“Truly, you are too generous. Ah, but here we are, I don’t think I’ve been to this place before. Can you tell me of it?” he said. Fiera silently noted the quick change of subject, and then went on to tell him whatever she could of the little restaurant they had come upon.

She had always been called ‘cold’ and ‘distant’. And even now, she knew she was not in love. But she didn’t feel cold, or distant, when she was chasing her memories or spending time with Kadri. She wasn’t sure why he seemed to be an exception, perhaps it was simply because he had no expectations of her other than to fulfill her side of their agreements without mocking or betraying him, which was easy enough to do since he always did the same on his end. No, the feeling wasn’t love, but it was a warm kind of feeling. She wondered if they were friends, or only amiable business partners, or if it really made a difference. Certainly, if she called him her friend to his face, he’d probably find some excuse to go away and never return. But privately, she would like to think of him as a friend. She didn’t know what her past would reveal, about herself or about those she must have known, but there was always the present, and a dream for the future.

Perhaps the memory of joy and peace could still be grown in some other way.

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