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readyplayerhobi · 5 years ago

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Jung Hoseok and the Magic to Happiness | 02

; Hufflepuff Teacher!Hoseok x Reader

; Genre: Fluff, future angst, future smut

; Word Count: 6.5k

; Synopsis: An unexpected issue with your Ministry of Magic job leads to you taking the role of Transfiguration Professor at Hogwarts. It’s here that you meet your best friend’s younger brother for the first time in years, the Hufflepuff Head of House, Jung Hoseok. While you contend with seeing him once again, Hoseok tries to show you that he’s very much a man and no longer the gangly teenager you once knew.

; A/N: After almost three months of no writing...I finished this chapter :) I hope you enjoy...please leave me feedback in the form of comments or an ask. The long break has made me worry about a bit about whether people will even read my stuff anymore lol

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The next two months pass by with only a few growing pains in terms of teaching. You’d discovered pretty quickly that a group of twenty students could easily turn into pure and utter chaos. Particularly when one of them accidentally turns another into a turnip.

That had not been the best first-week experience if you were being honest.

There had been a few minutes when you’d been convinced

But you were certainly getting used to everything. It was odd being on the other side now, being the one who commanded attention from the students. You had an almost desperate need to be liked by them at first, but the other professors had quickly dissuaded you from that. They were not your friends, and you’d learnt that if you gave them an inch then they’d take a mile.

It had been pleasant though, and you were certainly enjoying everything. There was nothing better than the smile on a student’s face when they got a spell right, with the knowledge that you’d been the one to teach them that.

The comments you’d been told on your first note about the house stereotypes had also proven to be true. You’d never seen so many Slytherin’s chatting happily with Gryffindor’s and so forth. Whole friendship groups were made up of varying houses and none appeared to be left out. Nor had you seen any house related bullying as there had been in your day.

Once typical insults of a Slytherin being home to a Death Eater had vanished for the most part. The one time you had seen it, hurled by a Hufflepuff of all things, had resulted in complete outrage amongst all the students. It had warmed your heart to see the younger generations working in far better harmony than yours or your previous generations ever had.

Chaeyoung had become the equivalent of your work best friend, bringing her marking over to your office and spending time chatting happily with you. Seokjin had also become a close friend or at least as close as someone could get in only two months. The two of them were fascinating, coming from vastly different lifestyles.

Her family were practically magical royalty in France, though she’d moved to the UK whilst only a child to live with her grandparents after the deaths of her parents. As such, she’d ended up attending Hogwarts and had been in the year below Hoseok. Despite her initial French upbringing, she had no hint of an accent though she’d spouted fluent French to you when you’d queried her language abilities.

She also spoke Spanish, which had led to her initially getting a job as a translator at a magical exporting company. It had amused you thoroughly that it had been based in Devon, along the southern coast of England with France just over the narrow Channel Sea. Chaeyoung had laughed at the time, acknowledging that the mild weather was much nicer than the temperamental mistress you had to contend with here in northern Scotland.

It hadn’t proven to her liking though, and she’d soon ended up applying for the vacant History of Magic position. She’d been quick to explain that she’d taken up an extra qualification in her chosen area and that she wasn’t just randomly picked. You knew from Jisoo that muggles had a different way to education, but there were no real universities here in the wizarding world.

Chaeyoung studied hard enough and was very knowledgeable about her chosen area, so you didn’t see too much issue regarding it. And she was a popular teacher, helping to turn a subject that many would often find dull into something fun and interesting.

Seokjin, on the other hand, was older than you. He was 36, with a wife of ten years and two young sons. He’d trained in astronomy in the Ministry and had brought his skills to Hogwarts three years ago. You’d ended up bonding together over your dual experiences in the Ministry; both lamenting over the different departments and positions you’d had yet the same bureaucratic headaches.

He was a joyful sort with a smile always on his face for you and his students along with a genuine passion for the stars and the universe. You knew that he made it a goal to read much of what the muggles were doing, his fascination with the fact that they’d been to space bordering on an almost obsession.

It was no surprise to you that these have been the two that you had ended up so close with. Both had the experience of working outside of Hogwarts and that seemed to make you all different from the other professors. Everyone else had interned here immediately after finishing before taking on their chosen role.

Jimin came from a long line of auror wizards and witches that stretched back centuries. This meant that he had extensive knowledge of the Dark Arts inherited from their wise teachings. His mother and father still worked in the Ministry, which meant that he’d slipped into the Defence Against the Dark Arts position with ease.

Which was a good thing as it had remained an awkward position after the Second Wizarding War. It was a role that was often hard to fill as some many witches and wizards felt that it would be best to ignore that the Dark Arts even existed. If no one knew about the Dark Arts, and all the horrific violence and devastation that had occurred with them, then there wouldn’t be any need to defend it.

That was, of course, a most ridiculous idea and Hogwarts had firmly resisted any such attempts to whitewash both the history and the concept of the Dark Arts. By not acknowledging what happened, and teaching to both understand why it happened alongside how to protect against it, then it would just happen again.

But it remained an exceptionally unpopular position due to the intimate knowledge of the Dark Arts required. To know how best to protect against the Dark spells, you had to know what the Dark spells were.

You had experienced at least three professors during your tenure as a student.

That had all changed five years ago though when Park Jimin had finally taken over when his predecessor had packed it all in to go and study the famous dragons in Romania. The handsome silver-haired professor was young, but he had won over the staff of the prestigious school with his astonishingly good spellwork.

The fact that he had also made short work of their hearts was because he was also incredibly good looking, much to his benefit when it came to dating you were sure.

Jimin wasn’t just a pretty face though; he was the best dueller in the school. From what you’d been told, he had yet to be bested. Which honestly, was to be expected from someone with such a prestigious bloodline as his.

But not only that, he’d proven to be sweet and kind to his students with a backbone of steel as well. While there may be no true bad blood between houses now, Slytherin still garnered an air of suspicion from other houses even to this day.

Given the preponderance of dark witches and wizards that the house had produced over the years, it was a well-earnt suspicion, unfortunately. Still, you didn’t believe that the bad decisions and choices made by people long ago should have any bearing on your current students; all of them born long after those terrible events.

Jimin had proven to be an excellent example of why you should never stereotype people based on what others had done. In your opinion, he was an exceptional teacher and had taken on the helm of the Defence Against the Dark Arts role with the clear mindset of not only helping to protect his students but also to try and prevent them from making poor choices.

It was a tough subject to teach as it meant constantly walking a narrow line while also steering students true through narrow and murky waters. There were plenty of students who might find themselves a little too fascinated in the concept of the Dark Arts, after all.

According to Chaeyoung, Jimin tried to combat this by making sure to teach them about the history of the Dark Arts. From what you understood, he held no punches in making sure they all knew the horrific acts of murder and sacrifice that had been committed to preventing students from romanticising a dark part of wizarding history.

Not only that, but he made sure to teach about the most infamous dark wizards in history; the Death Eaters and Voldemort. This was all to ensure that they did not repeat the mistakes of the past. He took his role seriously, whether it was through spellwork or simply enriching the minds.

Despite his relative youth, you’d come to know him as passionate and hard-working with a true love for his students. Whether they be in Slytherin or Gryffindor. It was just one of the many things that you had come to grow to love about Hogwarts in your short time here so far, the way the school had adapted and grown so quickly.

Hogwarts was a castle that had been built from stone carved centuries ago and housed ancient treasures of the wizarding world, but the Battle of Hogwarts had been a turning point for many. No longer did it constantly look at the past with pure pride, and to many - ignorance, but instead looked to the future as well.

It sought to teach well-rounded wizards and witches that would enrich the community. Which meant it had attempted to modernise itself as much as it could. Of course, it didn’t match the sparkling modernity of steel and technology that the muggle world had developed over the last two centuries but it was improving itself and working to develop new magics that would mirror some of the advancements that the muggles had made.

Perhaps the only thing you’d found a little awkward to embrace was teaching itself. You’d been eager to begin but had quickly realised that teaching was much more complicated than you’d imagined. For all of the good things that Hogwarts was doing lately, it seemed odd to you that they didn’t even bother teaching their professors to teach.

A few discussions with some of the others had revealed that they also had this issue when they’d started. It seemed to have been easier for those who hadn’t spent too much time away from the school after they’d graduated but it had been a long time since you’d been schooled here. Teaching methods had changed and you’d struggled to maintain a healthy balance of actually teaching, answering questions to help students, having open hours to encourage students who were struggling to have extra tuition and finding time to mark the essays that you handed out.

In short, it had been a very steep learning curve for yourself. Thankfully, your students had given you the benefit of the doubt, which meant they’d been very accepting of any mistakes you’d made. You’d also worked with the other professors to establish a good teaching plan for each of your lessons while also cross-referencing to ensure students weren’t loaded with too much homework.

It was more work than you’d expected, which made you understand how naive you’d been. But you found it to be satisfying work and the reward of seeing students learn and retain their knowledge throughout their lessons was better than anything you’d done in your previous job. And that was to say nothing about the pure wonder and joy on the faces of the first-year students when you had begun their education.

Underlying all of your experiences so far though was one Jung Hoseok. Whilst you’d become quick friends with Seokjin and Chaeyoung, Hoseok was a strange enigma to you. He was friendly and always willing to help you whenever you got confused over something or were feeling a little stressed.

His job as the Care of Magical Creatures professor meant that you rarely saw him during school hours. A large portion of his time was spent outside in the Forbidden Forest or in the custom-built buildings that housed many of the fantastical creatures that he cared for. You knew that he did have a classroom though. It wasn’t anywhere near yours but it held a lot of the smaller creatures that didn’t do so well in the Scottish climate.

Hoseok’s commitment to his job was commendable as he often spent a lot of hours outside. Which meant that as the months slowly shifted to winter, he was finding himself in the cold and rain a lot more often than not.

More than once, you’d spotted him outside when peeking through one of your classroom windows and noted him completely drenched as the rain poured down. It made you cringe each time you saw it, knowing that his robes would be heavy with water. But he never complained about it, even though he was the only professor who also had to work on the weekends.

On top of that, he was also busy with being the Head of Hufflepuff. From what you understood from your talks with Jimin, it meant always being available outside of learning hours for his House students. Whether they wanted to talk about a problem they had or simply needed advice, he was there to help them with whatever they needed.

It also meant that he had to attend every Quidditch game, and you wondered how he managed to cope with such a full schedule. You felt exhausted after a week of just your normal work but knowing how much extra he put in was mind-blowing.

Despite this though, you’d noticed over time that Hoseok always made sure to be present for every meal in the Great Hall. And much like the first meal you’d shared at the top table, he always sat next to you. You hadn’t thought anything of it until Seokjin had casually mentioned one day while you’d been at Hogsmeade with him and Chaeyoung that he’d never sat in that place before.

His old spot was actually on the other side of the table, next to Taehyung and Jimin. Seokjin hadn’t even thought anything of his comment but it had caused you to pause, wondering why Hoseok had felt the need to change his position. At the time, you’d simply shrugged and pointed out that you’d known him when he was younger and that his sister was your best friend.

It only made sense that he wanted to be there to help you out and make sure you were okay.

But that excuse started to falter when you thought about the fact that he never mentioned Jisoo to you. Hoseok didn’t mention anything of the past that you both shared. Instead, he would talk about Hogwarts now and your jobs or ask about what life was like at the Ministry when you’d been there. Those topics often led off onto little tangents and you’d both find yourselves chattering away with each other as the meals went on.

The others would get involved too when they could, but there was something...singular about Hoseok’s focus. And that was to say nothing of how he always made sure to walk you back to your quarters after dinner. There was never much talk that happened then, instead, the two of you simply enjoyed the architecture and decoration of Hogwarts as you found different ways to get back, the company exquisite in its silence.

A comfortable silence that you hadn’t found with many other people.

Chaeyoung was convinced that Hoseok liked you. You’d tried to debunk that theory by pointing out that he’d fancied you when he was younger and it was probably just the allure of an older girl who was more accessible to him than others. You were always around given your friendship with his sister and he’d probably just transferred his teenage hormones onto you at the time.

If anything, he was probably embarrassed about how obvious he was back then. Poor Hoseok had never been subtle in anything.

Despite your defence, Chaeyoung had simply given you a look that you hadn’t been able to interpret. Nor did you understand the subtle glances and smirks that she exchanged with Seokjin whenever Hoseok sat next to you at the dining table. It was like there was a silent conversation happening between the two of them about you, only you weren’t included in it.

Thankfully, you weren’t the type of person to be too influenced by other’s thoughts and opinions. So you didn’t let Chaeyoung’s opinion on the subject impact upon your burgeoning friendship with Hoseok. So even though there was a voice in the back of your mind telling you that there was something more, you ignored it and chose not to ruin the fledgeling friendship you had.

You’d felt a sense of relief though that Chaeyoung had been too busy with marking papers to attend dinner last night, which meant that she hadn’t been able to overhear your conversation with Hoseok last night. The two of you had been discussing his lesson plans for the next few weeks and what creatures his students were going to be studying.

He’d suddenly gotten an odd look on his face before grinning. If there was one thing you had learnt upon being back at Hogwarts, it was that Hoseok’s smile was perhaps one of the prettiest things you’d ever seen. Which was why you’d smiled back at him immediately, even though you had no idea what he was so happy about.

But he hadn’t made you wait and had instead asked if you were tonight. You’d acknowledged it and confusion had been written all over your face but he’d just given an enigmatic shrug. All he’d said after that was to meet him at the entrance of the Forbidden Forest an hour after dinner.

Which was why you were now standing in the dark. Your robes were wrapped tightly around you but it did nothing to stop the way you shivered, jaw tight as a cold wind rushed through the trunks of the trees before you. Part of you wanted to run back to the castle if only to grab your winter coat, but you didn’t want to look like you’d stood Hoseok up.

Though you did wish he’d turn up quicker rather than later.

Huddling under your cloak more, you clasped the edges together with your hands and pushed it up to cover your mouth and nose. It didn’t do a whole lot against the cold, but it was better than being exposed to it. Even though the wind wasn’t strong, it was still enough to cause your robes to flap, the sound loud against the quiet of the grounds.

The only other sound right now was the wind as it howled through the Forbidden Forest, making the already dark and ominous area look even scarier. Even though you were now an adult, there was an underlying fear of the forest before you. Perhaps it was because it had been firmly ingrained in you as a student that this area was off-limits or something.

Still, you wouldn’t want to go walking around in it on your own anytime soon.

The sight of the trees suddenly moving ahead of you made you gasp quietly, body freezing in position as you squinted to try and see what it had been. You knew that the forest was full of many magical creatures; not all of them gentle and kind.

Swallowing hard, you stayed in place to try and avoid attention, gaze skittering around as you tried to find that shape once more. A branch cracking caused you to flinch, your hands tightening into fists around the material of your cloak and you had to clench your jaw to stop any noise from escaping.

The black shape formed once more ahead of you and you almost shrieked in fright, getting ready to run away until you saw a sudden flash of brighter colour. Frowning, you let your hands unclasp themselves until you realised it was a yellow scarf and realisation flooded through your body.

“Bloody hell!” You cursed, the syllables being spat with indignation. Hoseok looked up in surprise, his own eyes widening in surprise before concern etched itself onto his face when he saw the dual outrage and fear on you. Striding forward, you met him just as he was about to cross over the boundary of the trees onto the grounds of the castle and poked at this chest, a scowl on your face.

“You didn’t think to warn me you were going to be coming from the forest! Merlin’s beard, I almost ran away because I was afraid it was something that was going to hurt me.” Hissing at him, you realised belatedly that you had to look up to him to do this. Damn him and his growth spurt.

Still, he at least had the decency to look a little sheepish.

“Sorry, I didn’t think it might seem a little scary. I was just coming back from checking on the centaurs; I haven’t been able to meet them in a while and wanted to see if they were okay.” His explanation was logical but it still made you scowl.

“Why aren’t you carrying a light or something?! Do you always just gallivant around the Forbidden Forest in the dark? Aren’t there dangerous things here?” You pepper him with the questions quickly, each one causing his brow to rise higher incrementally. It’s a good job that it’s dark because you don’t notice the way the corner of his lips quirks up in amusement at your tirade.

“I don’t use one in there, not normally. I know my way around very well. I have worked in this forest for years now. But I do have lanterns dotted around in case I need one and I can always use a lumos spell, like now. I figured you wouldn’t want to journey in the dark.” At that, he pulls his wand out of a pocket in his robes and mutters the spell, the tip lighting up with bright white.

Narrowing your eyes at the sudden influx of light, you’re momentarily startled by just how handsome Hoseok looks in the light. It casts an almost blue glow to him, his normally sun-kissed skin looking paler than you’ve ever seen it before. The shadows on his face only serve to highlight the sharp angles of his features while his eyes almost glitter.

It’s only then that you realise you’re staring, quickly averting your gaze away and focusing them on your hands instead. At that moment, another harsh wind blows through and you shiver in response, your shoulders lifting as you try to curl in on yourself.

Gripping your cloak once more, you’re too distracted to notice what Hoseok is doing. The only sign is the light going a little wonky for a few moments before you’re startled by the sudden feeling of softness on your neck.

Letting out a small ‘eep’ of surprise, you jerk away only to see Hoseok staring at you with wide eyes, his scarf no longer wrapped around his neck and instead being held out to you. The Hufflepuff colours look washed out in the odd light and you pause, giving him a confused look as you glance between the scarf and him.

Brows raised, he lifts the item before giving you a slow smile. “You’re cold. You can wear this if you want. It’s not as chilly in the forest but I don’t want you to get poorly because of it. I should have warned you, sorry.”

It seems like all he’s done is apologise so far and it makes you feel bad, causing you to nod your head and take the scarf from him. Wrapping it around your neck, you immediately feel a little warmer and you can’t help but take a deep inhale of the scent woven into the soft fibres. It’s a more concentrated form of what you get to smell every meal time; citrus and something with a slight hint of spice.

For a second, you wonder if it’s a cologne it’s bought himself or if perhaps it’s something a woman bought for him. It suits him, either way.

“Are you ready? You don’t have to come if you’re feeling uncomfortable or anything…” Hoseok trails off, biting his lip in an almost nervous way that makes you feel a little odd. Pushing the thought away, you hum and glance behind him into the forest. Your curiosity was too much and so you nodded firmly, giving him a gentle smile before gesturing for him to start walking.

Without another word, he turns around and begins to walk once more. You notice casually that he’s following a path cut into the forest, the ground level and even compared to the wildness all around you. Alongside the sound of your boots on the dirt, you realise that there are a few other noises all around you.

The gentle hoot of an owl is overwhelmed by a shriek far away, causing a chill to run up your spine. Shuffling forward a little quicker, you almost reach out to Hoseok as a tinge of fear takes over. As if he can tell, he turns around and gives you a concerned look.

“What was that?” Whispering, you glance around and wonder if you should talk loudly. Hoseok looks in the same direction as you do before shrugging slightly.

“Could be anything. This forest is full of creatures, both magical and mundane. Might be a bat or could be something else. Don’t worry though, there’s not usually anything dangerous around this part of the forest. It’s too close to the edge and the creatures that can do the most harm prefer to remain deep within the forest.” It’s almost casual the way he slows to walk alongside you, giving you the safety of his presence but you notice it all the same.

Not that you comment on it, of course. But you appreciate it nonetheless.

Giving him a noncommittal sound, you continue until he takes a sudden turn off the path. The forest floor is dense with foliage and tree roots, causing you to trip a few times. Hoseok helps you along, reaching you to hold your arm to keep you upright when you trip over one too many roots and you get the sense he’s enjoying this.

Maybe it’s because he lets out a soft chuckle when you swear loudly, scowling down at the deeply embedded rock that you’d accidentally kicked. Despite the fact your best friend’s little brother is leading you deep into a scary, dark forest, you don’t feel any concern about him. What could be in the forest, sure, but not him.

He gives off a sense of security that surprises you. All those years ago, Hoseok had been the perfect example of an annoying little brother to Jisoo. Always irritating her and doing things with the sole purpose of being a pain, which in turn meant doing those things to you as well. But now he seemed dependable and you got the sense that you’d want him with you if anything bad happened.

“Okay, we’re almost there. Now, I need you to stay very calm and don’t make any large or sudden movements. You might scare her.” Staring at him in alarm, you suddenly realise that you’ve not even questioned what he’s wanting to show you. Not that he’d have told you, you’re positive of that, but his instructions make you feel a little uneasy.

Upon seeing your face in the light of his wand, he gives a small smile and rests his hand on your arm reassuringly.

“Don’t worry, I promise, you’re going to like this. You’ll understand what I mean.” Frowning at him, you watch as he starts forward once more and realise he’s heading into a little clearing. Sighing deeply, you realise that you don’t want to stand there on your own so you follow him slowly, almost hesitant to see whatever he’s bringing you to.

You swear, if it’s one of those obscenely large spiders that’s supposed to live in this forest then you’re going to jinx him with something he’ll still be suffering from in a year.

The clearing is small and almost circular, though the position of some trees makes it seem a little broken in places. Long grass that is almost bouncy cushions your feet and you wonder if flowers would grow in the daylight, the canopy of trees above broken and allowing more sky through than elsewhere.

During the day it would get a lot of sunlight, but at the moment you couldn’t help staring in awe at the moon as it glowed brightly, it’s full body visible against the black of the sky. A few stars twinkled serenely alongside it, looking peaceful and creating a beautiful image.

A pale, ghostly colour catches your attention from the corner of your eye and you find yourself pressing to Hoseok a little closer. His back is strong and solid against your hands as you tense in concern, peeking around him to try and catch what it was.

What you see causes you to gasp out loud, letting go of Hoseok’s robes abruptly as you take a wide step away from him to get a better view.

Long, sinewy legs move through the forest in an almost dainty manner, picking their way through the undergrowth with care and precision. There’s almost no sound as the creature moves towards the clearing, only the softest rustle of leaves that can’t be avoided. It’s fascinating how quietly it can move given its size and you wonder if it’s some magical ability that allows that.

Within moments, the shape coalesces into a clearer image as it passes through the edge of the trees on the other side of the clearing. A silver coat practically glows under the moonlight, giving the creature an ethereal feel that makes you feel that it’s not even real. That you’re just seeing an apparition instead of a real animal.

The horn on its head is long and spiralling, ending in a deadly point while the pale white mane and tail flow in elegant waves towards the ground. Golden hooves paw softly at the grass, glinting slightly.

A unicorn.

“Merlin’s beard…” You whisper, pressing a hand to your mouth before looking at Hoseok. “A unicorn...that’s a unicorn!”

They were rare creatures, even rarer now due to being hunted over the centuries by both muggles and wizards. Muggles thought them a myth now while you knew the rumour of the powerful properties that unicorn blood had. You hadn’t even known the Forbidden Forest had unicorns in them.

“It is. I haven’t named her, seems a little wrong to name her. They normally don’t really like men but I found her when she was injured two years ago. She was dying and I helped nurse her back to health. Unicorns have great memories and we’ve kind of become...friends? Or as much of a friend as you can be to one.” He finishes, smiling as he watches the unicorn snort almost in agreement.

Her eyes are a deep black in the moonlight but you note they look almost friendly and kind. Hoseok’s hand on your back pushes you forward slightly, causing you to start and look back at him with wide eyes.

“Move slowly...hold your hand out to her so she can see it and smell it. Be careful and like I said...no sudden moves. You’re a woman so she’s more likely to accept you anyway, but she’ll let you know if she’s not happy.” Gulping, you nod and take a deep breath. Letting it out slowly, you try to stop the trembling in your limbs.

Whether it’s from excitement at finally getting to see your favourite magical creature in the flesh or fear of being gored to death by that dangerous horn, you don’t know. But you follow Hoseok’s words, trusting him to be right.

Slowly, you walk forwards with your hand out, palm side up. Each step you take, you stare intently at the body of the unicorn to try and catch any movement that might be viewed as hostile. Given she had four legs, there was no way you could outrun her but you’d at least like to say you had a head start.

Despite your worry, she makes no threatening moves. If anything, she seems cautiously curious; her ears pricked forwards towards you and her eyes remaining focused solely on you. Not a muscle in her body moves, only the chilly wind blowing through her mane and tail.

Finally, you’re almost within touching distance of her. But instead of carrying on, you stop. Something inside you tells you that it’s a good idea to do that, to let her come to you and accept you. So you remain standing there with your palm held out to her, watching her closely.

Nostrils slightly darker than the rest of her body flare wide a few times, likely taking in as much air as she can to smell you. It isn’t enough though and she slowly extends her neck out, her refined head stretching out until you can feel the hotness of her breath. Not moving, you let her investigate until finally, she takes one careful step forward and presses the velvety softness of her muzzle into your hand.

Smiling, you let her increase the pressure before turning your hand and gently stroking her. There’s a moment of almost curiosity in her eyes, not that you can tell what a unicorn is feeling, before she lets out a huff of air and leans her head into your touch, obviously enjoying the feeling.

Your smile turns into a wide grin as you run your hand along her face slowly, letting her get used to the feel of you before you gently scratch at her chin. Almost instantly her ears flatten and you feel a pang of panic, but she just lifts her head and lets out a nicker of contentment, giving you a better position.

“She likes you.” You hear from beside you, and you turn to see Hoseok patting the unicorn’s neck.

Turning away from you momentarily, the mare lets out a soft whinny as she looks behind her into the forest. Frowning, you crane your head to try to see what she’s looking at. Soft footfalls being and you look at Hoseok in confusion, tilting your head at the sight of his grin.

Before you can ask him what’s going on, there’s a high pitched neigh and the mare turns her head back to you, butting at your hand gently. Glancing to her side, your jaw drops once more and you can’t help but squeal lightly.

A foal is standing next to her, it’s coat fluffy with baby fur and a beautiful golden that contrasts completely from its mother. There’s no horn on its head, only a tiny nub that will one day grow long and tall. Gangly legs look too long for its body and the short, fuzzy tail make you coo in delight as it flicks it from side to side eagerly, those big eyes staring at you as it almost dances in place.

Looking at its mum, you almost ask for the permission with a hand raised in the foal's direction and you could swear the unicorn almost nods. Slowly, you move towards the foal and stroke along its short neck, marvelling at how soft and fluffy it is. The foal snorts, its entire body wobbling from the movement and you giggle in delight, completely awed by the sight of them both.

“She had this foal only a month ago, so he’s still pretty small. But he’s a sweetheart and so friendly. As you probably know, he’ll keep that gold coat for two years before paling out to silver.” Hoseok says casually, still stroking the mare and smiling at her fondly.

For a few minutes, you’re too busy playing with the foal to pay attention to his words but they finally sink in.

“What do you mean, as you probably know?” Neither of you had discussed unicorns so far during your mealtime talks, so you didn’t know why he’d think that. Sure, you’d been taught about unicorns in school but that had been so long ago and it hadn’t even been a full class on them.

Your love of them had meant you’d learnt much more about them, absorbing all the information you could find in books when you were a teenager. The fact that you were finally standing here, stroking not only a unicorn but also her foal was something that you’d always wished you could do. Given how rare they were though, you’d never expected it to happen.

“Well, they’re your favourite magical creature, right? Or they were, anyway.” He frowns slightly, unsure if he’s got something wrong and you simply stare at him for a moment.

Had he remembered that from when you’d been at Hogwarts? Given your love of them, it was only natural that he’d known about them back then given how often you’d spent time at his house to have sleepovers with Jisoo. But you’d have thought he’d have forgotten all about that by now.

Jisoo didn’t even remember this as you’d both grown over the years, the obsession of teenagers mellowing out. Unicorns remained your favourite magical creature, but you didn’t hold that deep passion that you did back then. The fact that Hoseok had remembered stunned you into silence for a moment though, causing you to frown down at the foal.

“Yeah...yeah, they are. I...I mean...thank you. For remembering and showing me this, this is amazing. I’ll never forget this, Hoseok.” You’re not entirely sure how to thank him properly, because you don’t know of anyone else who could show you a unicorn like this.

Before you can say anything else or Hoseok can respond, you’re both distracted by the way the foal lets out a squeal and butts his head into you lightly before jumping away. Taken aback, you watch him for a moment for he does it again, his impossibly slim legs wobbling slightly as he trips on a rock.

“He wants you to play,” Hoseok says softly, smiling as he watches you both. Glancing to him, you raise a brow before grinning back at the baby unicorn. Tilting your head at him, you purse your lips before jumping forward and raising your hands in claw motions. Almost immediately, the foal leaps forward before darting back to you and you giggle, already planning your next move.

Yeah, okay, you might be thirty-three years old...but you were going to play with the baby unicorn.

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robininthelabyrinth · 5 years ago

Note

consider: trans girl jiang cheng

Untamed verse:

When Jiang Chen was little, she told her mother that she wanted to be like her when she grew up.

Madame Yu thought it referred to her cultivation and was very proud, even smug, but actually Jiang Cheng had been eyeing her beautiful skirts and delicate jewelry, her proud back and gentle curves.

It wasn’t until Jiang Cheng was a little older that she realized that she couldn’t be like her mother – that she was supposed to be like her father. Because she was her father’s son, and not his daughter.

She was never going to be like her father.

It was both a relief and a terrible heartache when Wei Wuxian joined the household – he was everything her father had ever wanted in a son. Jiang Cheng’s competitive streak was spurred on for a little while, trying to show that she could be just as good a son as Wei Wuxian, but she failed, and failed, and failed some more, and in the end she realized she really wasn’t.

She wasn’t as good a cultivator, she wasn’t as good a leader, she wasn’t as good a person.

She certainly wasn’t as good a son.

(She wasn’t a son at all, but who was she going to tell? Who would ever believe her?)

She thought for a while that she might be a cutsleeve – it was said that men who liked other men were feminine in behavior and in their thoughts, a result of their being lacking in yang and overabundant in yin – but the pornography she got Wei Wuxian to get for her, after she’d egged him on to do it under the guise of a dare, ended up leaving her cold and more than a little bored.

(It’d been Wei Wuxian who’d ended up staring at it for hours and hours, mouth slightly agape, before slinking away with hunched shoulders and look on his face; she assumed that was the normal reaction to pornography, for boys who weren’t defective the way she was, and sighed again over her own failures.)

At any rate, the first time her heart had ever been moved, it ended up being for a woman after all: Wen Qing in her red dress and her head held high, proud and a little above-it-all, carrying a sword like any man and needles in her fist like the doctor she was.

It had been a relief to think that she might be normal in some ways, some obvious ways, that she might be a boy in the ways that mattered, like love.

She even bought a comb for her, wondering if it would be rude to hand it over – presumptuous, maybe. Wen Qing was a Wen, after all, even if she didn’t seem to think she was the sun in the sky the way the other Wens did…it probably wouldn’t work out.

Jiang Cheng put the comb away.

They had an encounter in an inn later, faces suddenly an inch apart so that Wen Qing can whisper words of warning, and Jiang Cheng expected her heart to speed up when it happens – it did, a little, but not as much as it had before.

It occurred to Jiang Cheng that she wasn’t sure if her heart had been moved because she liked Wen Qing or if it was only that she wanted to be her.

Jiang Cheng almost asked, the next time they met – Wen Qing was a doctor, wasn’t she, so surely she’d have some sort of insight – but after a few moments realized that it would be unbelievably rude to dump issues of sexuality and attraction onto Wen Qing’s shoulders at a moment when they were surrounded by the ghost puppets of Wen Qing’s family who were trying to kill them.

Plus, Nie Huaisang was there. That would have made everything even more awkward.

So she didn’t ask, said “Never mind” when Wen Qing asked what she had been going to say, and ignored the thoughtful look on Nie Huaisang’s face – he was probably just thinking that Jiang Cheng had a crush.

Wen Qing probably thought she just had a crush.

It would be easier if it was just a crush.

It turned out that Jiang Cheng had underestimated Nie Huaisang, and also she might be a little in love with Qinghe – her father had always said they were a bit odd, in a tone that didn’t quite suggest approval, but it turned out they were just the right kind of odd for Jiang Cheng.

“Are you a girl?” Nie Huaisang asked, idly fanning himself – Wei Wuxian had wandered outside with his jar of liquor after the feast, and Lan Wangji was nowhere to be found, very likely already leaving.

“What?” Jiang Cheng said, then turned to glare incredulously at him. “Don’t be ridiculous. You’ve walked into our rooms in the Cloud Recesses without knocking often enough to know the answer to that.”

“Not on the outside,” Nie Huaisang said, rolling his eyes. “On the inside. Are you a girl when you think?”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Jiang Cheng asked, suspicious, and her heart was racing faster than it ever had around Wen Qing – mostly in terror.

Nie Huaisang heaved a sigh as if Jiang Cheng was being especially stupid. “Misaligned reincarnations,” he said. “Two births, one man and one woman, happening at the same hour, same minute, same second – except the man’s soul gets lost and goes into the woman’s body, and the woman’s goes into the man’s. Think of it as a filing error by the heavenly bureaucracy.”

Jiang Cheng had never heard anything so stupid and wonderful before in her life.

“You’re joking,” she said, accusing. “There’s no such thing.”

“There is! I swear! It’s not uncommon in Qinghe – we have at least a dozen misaligned reincarnations in the Nie sect right now.”

Jiang Cheng crossed her arms over her chest. “I don’t believe you. Name one.”

“My older brother,” Nie Huaisang said promptly. “I swear that’s why he’s so pleased over that stupid mustache of his; it’s a sign of how good his cultivation is, putting all that yang energy in the right place.”

Jiang Cheng blinked, not quite understanding. “Why would he be pleased about having a mustache if his soul was actually a woman’s?”

Certain Jiang Cheng went to extraordinary lengths to keep her own chin clean-shaven. The thought of having a beard repulsed her.

“What? No. His soul is a man’s.”

“But you said he was misaligned…?”

“He is. What, do you want me to ask you to look inside his robes to see what he doesn’t have between his legs?”

Jiang Cheng gaped. “But he – he dresses as man!”

“He is a man,” Nie Huaisang said. “He just happens to be a man who, if you’re talking physically, would be the one to bear children, not the one to sire them.”

Jiang Cheng felt the need to sit down. It was as if her entire world had changed to spin the other way around.

“I’d really like him to marry Meng Yao,” Nie Huaisang said thoughtfully. “He likes him so much – he really respects him and listens to him, and my da-ge doesn’t listen to anyone. And that way I could have some nieces or nephews! But maybe he’ll decide to marry a woman instead, and then they’d have to find someone else to sire the children. Maybe Lan Xichen; he seems like the sort of person who’d agree to donate without demanding a share of filial piety…”

“I am,” Jiang Cheng said quickly, forcing the words out of her mouth before she became too shy to say them. “Your – question. From earlier. I am.”

Nie Huaisang smiled brilliantly. “I thought you might be,” he said. “Would you like to spend the evening trying on some of my mother’s old dresses? She had your shoulders – da-ge’s biological mother, you understand. Very tall. I’m sure we could find something in purple…”

Maybe it was bravery inspired by the liquor they’d all drunk at dinner, but Jiang Cheng agreed.

It was a good night.

It was something she thought about a lot, later, when they were stuck in the camp with the Wens, and after, when they’re back at home again.

Wei Wuxian’s words, reassuring her that she would be Sect Leader no matter how unorthodox – his reminder that Lan Yi was Sect Leader Lan, and just as valued as any other despite being who and what she was – made Jiang Cheng wonder if Wei Wuxian somehow knew.

She hoped he did.

After that, though, she didn’t – there wasn’t time to think about anything as stupid as identity.

Not for a long time.

Everything after Wei Wuxian came back was a disaster, every last bit of it.

Wei Wuxian was different, cold and unfeeling; Jiang Cheng tried to reach him, over and over again, but nothing seemed to work. She even wondered, in a panic, if Wei Wuxian hadn’t known, and maybe had somehow found out – he certainly seemed to be avoiding her in specific.

She didn’t know what else it could be.

Everything was falling apart around her – her older sister was remaining at Koi Tower, her shixiong had turned from mere negligence to outright rebellion…

She followed him to the Burial Mounds.

“You should disown me,” Wei Wuxian said. His face was cold.

It had always been cold, ever since he’d disappeared – they’d been with the Wens then, too.

“Fuck that,” Jiang Cheng said, and just gave up, sitting down on the ground. “No. Fuck you.”

Wei Wuxian scowled at him. “Don’t be so indecisive, Jiang Cheng; it doesn’t suit you. Disown me as a rebel, and the shame of my actions won’t be reflected onto the Jiang sect.”

“The shame of my actions,” Jiang Cheng said mockingly. “Don’t call it a shame if you don’t think it is one, Wei Wuxian! You’re proud of what you’ve done. I suppose in the end it’s a good thing my father didn’t have a son like you!”

“Oh, that old thing again,” Wei Wuxian said, his face twisting. “I’m telling you, you’re his son –”

“I’m not,” Jiang Cheng snapped back, pushed beyond her limits. “I was never his son; you were the only son he ever had, no matter how little blood there was between you. You keep pushing this, Wei Wuxian, and I never want to see or hear of you kneeling before his memorial tablet ever again, you hear me?! Neither as son, nor nephew, nor disciple!”

It was a low blow, she knew, but she didn’t know how else to reach him. Even if Wei Wuxian, the new Wei Wuxian, didn’t love her as much as he loved the Wens, then surely – surely he loved Jiang Fengmian enough?

Or had all her father’s love been pissed away into nothing?

Wei Wuxian stared at her, his brows pulled together, and promptly fixated on the wrong thing entirely. “What do you mean you’re not his son? Madame Yu would never –”

Jiang Cheng jabbed a finger at him. “Do not accuse my mother of adultery!”

“I wasn’t going to!” Wei Wuxian protested, and then looked around almost as if he though she was going to overhear him and order him to go kneel.

It was so familiar a gesture that Jiang Cheng let slip a hysterical giggle, which somehow set Wei Wuxian off laughing, and then that set Jiang Cheng off in turn.

“This is so stupid,” Jiang Cheng moaned, her hands over her face to hide her tears. “No one even said anything funny…you don’t make any sense, Wei Wuxian.”

“I don’t make any sense?” Wei Wuxian was hiccupping. “You don’t make any sense. What was that about not being Jiang Fengmian’s son?”

At this point, Jiang Cheng couldn’t see any path forward that didn’t involve banishing Wei Wuxian from the sect, to never see him again except as strangers – or at least to only ever see him in secret. They’d already grown so distant…there was no point in holding anything back.

So she told him, borrowing Nie Huaisang’s words to explain the concept.

“I didn’t know,” Wei Wuxian said, wiping his eyes. “I really didn’t. I didn’t even know enough to guess.”

Jiang Cheng sniffed and pulled her knees up to her chest, wrapping her arms around them and putting her chin on her knees – disgracefully childish, really, but she felt that way right now. She felt hollowed out, as if telling Wei Wuxian her greatest secret had left her with nothing else inside.

“You’re the one who can’t be guessed,” she said bitterly. “I don’t understand you, Wei Wuxian. You said you’d be at my side, that you’d help me, but you’re picking these people over me without a second thought…did I do something wrong?”

“What? No!” Wei Wuxian exclaimed. “No, that isn’t – it isn’t – it isn’t about you at all.”

“Then why didn’t you ask me to help you with them?” Jiang Cheng asked. She’d wondered that for a long time. “It’s not like you were the only one Wen Qing helped back then, when we were running from the Wen sect! She hid me, too! If that’s the debt you want to repay, shouldn’t I have every right to repay it, too? But you never told me you were going…”

“You couldn’t have come! What it would have done to the Jiang sect’s relationship with the Jin sect –”

“Oh, now you give a fig for politics? I’m Sect Leader! Those guards that you say fought you; they would have had to listen to me – if they challenged me, the scandal would be about their conduct, not mine! I could have helped, I could have explained it, we could have figured out a way to do it together…no,” she said, suddenly certain. “I’m not kicking you out the Jiang sect. You’re the only man we have left in the family, Wei Wuxian; you can’t just run out on me now. Especially given that jiejie’s leaving, too.”

Wei Wuxian jerked as if he’d been stabbed. “What do you mean, shijie’s leaving?”

“She’s going to accept Jin Zixuan’s offer of marriage,” Jiang Cheng said, and had Wei Wuxian really not known? Had he paid any attention to anything related to the Jiang sect in the past few weeks? “Maybe not yet, but…soon. And then I’ll be alone in the Lotus Pier, trying to run the entire damn sect without any help at all – no, I’m not kicking you out. I refuse.”

She’d been willing to agree, even a few short moments earlier. But then they’d taken the time to sit and talk about other things – she’d taken the time to make sure Wei Wuxian knew who she really was, to bare herself to him, no matter how stupid it might feel to be concerned about her self-perception when put in comparison with the destruction of her entire family – and the pause had given her time to think it over again.

It had made her realize that she didn’t want to give up on Wei Wuxian, even if he was giving up on her.

“Aren’t we a Great Sect, after all?” she said, scowling, gathering her strength of will. If she was going to need to stand up against the rest of the cultivation world, Wei Wuxian included, to keep her family together, then so be it; she would do it if she had to. It was better than the alternative. “Sect Leader Jin is always making noises about being able to show strength – fine, then, we’ll show him strength! You have the Yin Tiger Seal, I have my forces, and jiejie – maybe jiejie can convince Jin Zixuan to help us –”

“Lan Zhan let us go,” Wei Wuxian said abruptly, and Jiang Cheng turned to him in surprise. “He encountered us on the Qiongqi Path; I told him to fight me if he wanted to stop me, and he didn’t. He let me go – he let all of us go.”

“So maybe he’ll help us again, if we asked?” Jiang Cheng hazarded a guess. “That’s good! And we’re old friends with Nie Huaisang, and we worked with Nie Mingjue during the war – the Nies are very upright, very straightforward. If we showed them that most of the people here are non-combatants, showed them everything…well, everything but what you’re doing with Wen Ning, anyway; what are you doing with Wen Ning? He’s not really a ghost puppet you’ve brought back from the dead, is he?”

“He’s not dead,” Wei Wuxian said. “Just very close to it. He’s been infected with resentful energy and his qi circulation has been thrown out of alignment with…it’s complicated, and I don’t think you care.”

“I don’t,” Jiang Cheng admitted. “But that’s fine. You talking about it like an academic is better than you talking like you’re about to raise armies of corpses to send against the rest of the cultivation world…anyway, start packing up your things. I left my people at the bottom of the mountain; I’ll go get them, they can help carry both things and people, and we’ll move you all back to the Lotus Pier.”

“Back to the Lotus Pier,” Wei Wuxian murmured, looking dazed.

“Yes, back to the Lotus Pier! Possession is nine-tenths the law,” Jiang Cheng said, thinking out loud. “If necessary, I’ll throw a fit and claim that Sect Leader Jin wants to invade the Lotus Pier the way the Wen sect did. He’ll never forgive me for it, and things might be a bit tricky for a while…he’ll probably say I’m too emotional to be sect leader. With your backing, though, I think we should be able to get through it.”

That was the key bit, though, wasn’t it?

“Do I have your backing?” she asked.

“Yes,” Wei Wuxian said. “You do.”

#mdzs #jiang cheng #wei wuxian #wen qing #nie huaisang #my fic #my fics #trans!JC #trans!NMJ #Anonymous

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lovee-infected · 5 years ago

Text

• @0honeybaby0 :asked: “Hello! I have been having too much stress recently, and if you don't mind, would you please make some confront headcanons of Malleus and Leona? if you don't have time or simply you don't want to do it, it's okay! Take care!”

Reposting because tags were dead

Malleus had recognized your gloomy aura from the very first second, but decided to keep quiet not wanting to seem any rude or disturbing by forcing you into talking about it. He was hoping that it’s just a normal bad mood which would be taken away if he spends more time with you and keeps your mind off it.

He doesn’t know what may be wrong but tries his best to cheer you up anyway. He is quite shy to directly ask you out so he just goes with inviting you for a walk or taking you out to have something sweet together.

It is somehow helpful at first since spending time with him really lifts up your spirits. He is calm and mature yet so gentle and sweet, it’s never tiring to have him around, but as your struggling with anxiety continues you soon realize that even him can’t really make you feel any better.

When you begin lose interest in your short time with him as well Malleus gets really concerned; his attempt not only failed to make you feel any better but also ended up making you feel worse, what is wrong? Has he done something bad? Or could -he- be the reason you’ve been feeling down lately? Did he offend you by trying to get closer…?

He feels quite guilty thinking that it’s his fault that you aren’t feeling well, but he needs to make sure. He doesn’t want any coincidences to be between you and him so he finally takes the urge to ask you:

“My dear, you’ve been looking quite down lately, is there anything bothering you? Have I done something wrong?”

You are really surprised to hear that Malleus was actually thinking that he hes done something wrong while spending time with him was one of the very few things that could calm you down these days, it actually makes you laugh and the fae is confused again.

When you finally explain Malleus is relieved but also surprised: You were feeling nervous? He wasn’t considering the possibility of it, but if this is what has bothering you, he shall make sure to take away the anxiety from his beloved.

He wouldn’t mind giving you a hug or letting you lay your head on his lap if it helps you feel any better, but he’s more in charge of verbally confronting you now that you need it.

Malleus understands your concern as you feel responsible toward the tasks you’re given, but life is way too short to be spent on worrying because of them, especially for an mortal being like you. He doesn’t question you over the details, but he explains that no matter what the results are going to be, all that matters is that you tried your best and you should be proud because of it. Even as the results aren’t as good as you were expecting , letting failures bring you down would only hold you back from enjoying every other thing you love in this world; mistakes aren’t chains to hold you back from going any further, they are lessons to teach you how to go way further by telling you what is right and what isn’t. Doesn’t matter at all if you do not succeed, all that matters is whether you learned your lesson, or not.

He continues to talk for hours but it doesn’t seem to get any tiring, his tone is neither blaming nor dull, but so soft and calm like his words are coming out in melody. He gently pats you on head as you let go of the pain by just listening to him, feeling much better now that you’re no longer keeping it in.

When you’re done, Malleus takes a moment to look back at you and ask if it helped, glad that he now knows what has been bothering you all this time, but if you were struggling with anxiety and needed to talk, you could’ve just told him :“Why didn’t you just tell me in the first place?”

He doesn’t need you to word it, just by looking at your face he can tell that there’s something wrong. Leona isn’t usually one to give a damn about another’s personal problems or feelings, but when it comes to you, he does care.

No sugarcoating, he directly gets to the point and asks you what is wrong which certainly confuses you, unsure of what he is talking about. “You are a mess, what is it?” he points it out, saying just how obvious it is.

You realize his point but are too embarrassed to tell him the truth. Leona couldn’t care less about life and he probably isn’t one to let anything ever get to him, the best of his possible struggle would be a simple idgaf and going back to sleep. You think that he’d surely laugh it off if he knew that all you’re dealing with is anxiety, therefore you refuse to tell.

At first he doesn’t really care to ask why you’re lying, it might br just a -you- problem and you don’t really have to tell him if you don’t want to. Perhaps you just need some time to get over the thought, whatever it is.

He decides to leave you to it since you don’t seem to be wanting him to know, and tries to treat you normally regardless of what may be wrong. He invites you over, asks for your lap when he wants to take a nap, spends his usual time talking to you and in summary, does everything you always did together, but it doesn’t really seem as pleasant as usual. You look really tired, he isn’t used to seeing this face of yours. You were always the one to cheer him up when he wasn’t in the mood but now you seem to be even worse than the moody and tired Leona. He just realizes how much it pisses him off.

You were always the brighter one in this relationship and it’s going to be so screwed up if you aren’t feeling any good either. He doesn’t want you to be so, it really pisses him off.

One of you two has to be the one confronting the other and it was usually you, seems like this calls for a switch.He’s done, he’s had enough. He raises his head from your lap and sits in front of you:“One question, three words: What - is - wrong?”

You deny it at first saying that you’re totally fine, just a bit tired, but has had enough of it and tells you that if you aren’t going to talk, he’d get the Leech guy to pull the truth out of you. Ironic. Well embarrassing yourself in front of him wasn’t worse than being forced to do this anyway by Jade, so you give up.

You let it off your chest, how stressed out you’ve been feeling lately and what a pain life seemed to be, you are tired of it. You couldn’t get your mind of it but didn’t want to tell him either, afraid that this may cause him to look down on you and find it silly.

It turns out to be quite the opposite, he neither laughs nor finds it stupid, instead he says that he totally gets you.

Leona comes from a royal family and his childhood wasn’t really the easiest. He was always looked down to regardless of what he did or how much he tried, all because he had to bear the pain of being the second prince. He was always afraid of it being his unchangeable fate and it made him anxious, really anxious. He spent days training to the point of bleeding while he was just a child, and no one ever cared to ask him what was wrong. He ended up being an aggressive child while all he needed was some attention, to be cared for. But that never happened. And that’s how he ended up being the ignorant person he is, because he knows that there’s no point in being worried while all it does is to make you feel worse about things you cannot change.

He totally gets what it feels to be anxious and helpless so he’s with you on it, but there’s still a difference: You’d never end up like he did. You’ve got him to care for you and he’s always there to listen if you need to talk. He won’t ever let it get to you to the point of breaking down and he’s willing to help if there is something he can do, but he reminds you that it’s all an -exception- , only because you aren’t feeling well so don’t expect him to be as generous when you’re all fine again.

He has got free hugs for you if it helps you feel any better, but just this one time. He isn’t your personal hug toy but he’s decided to be soft since you need him now.

You’re going to have to nurse him all over in return when you’re better but for now, he’d just let his guard down so you can take your time and get the rest that you need, so he doesn’t mind spoiling you a bit more

“If you’d told me sooner I wouldn’t have laughed your problmes off, you know. But to keep it in because you thought I may find it stupid, man, you are absolutely silly,”

#Twst #twst x reader #twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland x reader #malleus draconia #malleus draconia x reader #Leona Kingscholar #leona kingscholar x reader #twst imagines #disney twisted wonderland

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wasted-headspace-98 · 4 years ago

Text

The Unforgiven: Part II

Summary: After Order 66, everything was destroyed. The Empire left death and destruction in its wake. But one choice could change everything forever. The question is…is it the right one? Maul x Ahsoka 18+ For Eventual Chapters Warnings: Nonexplicit sexual content, slow burn, PTSD TW, inappropriate use of the force Collab fic with @lordofthenerds97

TW FOR THIS CHAPTER INCLUDES:

Panic Attacks

PTSD Flashbacks/Nightmares

Survivor’s Guilt

Mentions of Self Harm/Attempted Suicide

~*~*~*~

Ash.

Blaster fire.

Smoke.

She could hear footsteps pounding on the metal around her. The voices kept getting closer, and she glanced over her shoulder for what felt like the millionth time.

Pain.

Death.

Fear.

She felt it all, ripping through her like teeth. Golden eyes stared at her through the smoke and she gasped at the sight.

Jesse.

Kix.

Rex.

Screams and the sound of gunfire surrounded her on all sides. Her eyes widened as she tried to locate where it was all coming from.

Anger.

Hate.

Rage.

A cyclone of emotions tore through her mind. It didn’t matter if they were hers or not. The Force echoed with the suffering of her friends.

Her Masters.

Her comrades.

Her boys.

Ahsoka sat bolt upright with a scream. It echoed between the four walls of her cramped quarters, making her montrals hum with the noise. She winced at the sound, bringing her hand up to her forehead. Sweat dripped down her skin and she wiped it away with the back of her hand before rubbing her eyes.

“It was just a nightmare,” she told herself.

As much as she hated to admit it, she’d been having them more and more often. She wasn’t sure what had brought them on.

How long has it been? Two years?

She shook her head and sighed, untangling herself from the bedsheet. Her bare feet hit the cold metal of the floor and shocked her awake. She readjusted her shirt and made her way to the door. It opened on hydraulic hinges with a quiet hiss, retreating within to wall to grant her access to the rest of the ship. She quietly padded down the hall before stopping at another door. That one hissed open to reveal a refresher.

Ahsoka splashed the cool water on her face, her hands shaking.

Bodies surrounded her. She didn’t know if she was the cause of their death or someone else. But it sent pain rippling through her heart. Those were her friends.

She squeezed her eyes shut and bared her teeth, trying to fight off the memories. Even as she tried to suffocate the unwelcome images, she could hear them.

“Please,” she begged aloud, dropping her face into her hands and falling to her knees. She could feel it pressing in on her from all sides. Tears streamed freely down her cheeks as she tried to fight it off. “Please stop…”

Ignoring her pleas, Ahsoka felt them pressing in on her through the Force. Their voices whispered against her ears, fleeting touches caressed her arms. The sound of blaster fire assaulted her from all sides, leaving her no room to breathe. She felt her throat closing up and her eyes widened in panic. A weight settled on her chest and bore down on her. The harder she tried to fight it, the heavier it became. Her slender fingers wrapped around the invisible force on her throat, trying to stop it from suffocating her. She was choking on her own breath and had little control over it.

Ahsoka squeezed her eyes shut, trying to block out all sensations.

Deep breaths, she thought. You can do this. Anakin taught you how to control your emotions.

With her arms shaking, she forced herself to suck in a breath. She let out a sob as she forced another breath into her lungs, her chest expanding with the rapid intake of air.

You left them to die. Rex. Jesse. Kix. You deserve every ounce of suffering for that.

“No, it wasn’t my fault!” she shouted, trying to get that incessant voice to leave her alone. It sounded familiar, but she couldn’t place exactly who it was.

You left me, Ahsoka!

“Anakin!” she gasped.

He shimmered to life in front of her, his blue eyes glowering at her. Ahsoka didn’t want to know if it was his Force signature or simply her mind playing tricks on her. But she could feel his disapproval. Is this what you’ve been reduced to? he sneered.

Ahsoka felt her eyes will with tears and she stared at him. Or, her mind’s interpretation of him. “I…I don’t…”

Exactly. You don’t know. If you had just listened when you had the chance, you wouldn’t be in this mess in the first place.

“No!”

Yes! You selfishly ignored the warnings you were given and lost any chance of a head start you might have had. The death of those men? That’s on your head Ahsoka!

She shook her head and let out a sob. Her arms went around her middle, hugging herself as she slid to the floor. “No…there was nothing I could have done…”

Bullshit!

“You don’t know that!”

The hell I don’t! You lost your chance because you didn’t want to listen to someone who so obviously wanted to help you!

Another sob took over her body as she collapsed, allowing herself to lose control. “It was wrong…he was a Sith…”

The voice of Anakin echoed through her head as he let out a mirthless laugh. Was he? Or was that what you told yourself to feel better about what you did?

Ahsoka continued to let her emotions roll off of her in waves. She knew Master Kenobi would tell her to curb her feelings and keep everything under control. But Anakin had taught her differently. He taught her to use her emotions.

If either of them could see what she had become, they would both be ashamed, that much she was sure of.

“It should have been me that died on that ship…” she choked out, feeling an overwhelming sense of guilt flood her mind. “Why didn’t I die?”

She closed her eyes and fought back another round of tears as she tried to collect herself. She’d been replaying that night in her mind over and over again every single day for the past two years. There wasn’t a single moment that escaped her. She knew exactly why she was still alive. And she resented every minute of it.

The voices in her head wouldn’t stop assaulting her. It seemed that with every reason she was forced to hear that she shouldn’t be alive, she was forced to hear it from a different voice.

To die on that ship, your fate was. Defy the will of the Force, you have. Grave consequences, there will be. Master Yoda.

The faith that your friends placed in you was obviously placed without care. You were to face the fate of order 66. Master Windu.

You’re obviously not feeling the weight of your actions, Ahsoka. You left us. Obi Wan.

You left me to die, Ahsoka! If only you knew what was going to happen, you could have saved us. Oh, wait. You did know. Anakin.

The General is right. Your failure to act resulted in all of our deaths. Rex.

Ahsoka sobbed again as she listened to each of the voices. “You’re right!” she screamed. “I should be dead! I don’t deserve to be here!”

Her entire body shook as she let everything out. It wasn’t the first time she’d faced these types of accusations. But it was the first time that she felt they were right. That they were justified.

Exhaustion seeped through her, down to her bones, as her persecutors continued their onslaught. She slowly faded out of consciousness, allowing the black void to consume her. But as she drifted off into sweet oblivion, she could have sworn she heard a quiet echo.

Don’t listen to them, Ahsoka. You’re stronger than this. Fight them.

Before she could identify the voice, she was gone. Her mind had been sucked into nothingness, and she welcomed the silence.

~*~*~*~

“You’ve lost quite a lot of blood, Lady Tano. If I hadn’t found you when I did, I fear you wouldn’t have made it off that ship alive.”

Ahsoka groaned as she tried to sit up. Her montrals rang with an echo that was no longer there. Her head pounded as if someone had taken a hammer to it. She blinked a few times, trying to adjust to the low levels of light that permeated the area.

“What?”

There was a sigh of exasperation somewhere to her left, and she put a hand to her forehead as she turned to look for the source of the voice. She noticed that her arms had been bandaged, and an uncomfortable pain shot through her shoulder as she moved. “Where am I?”

“Aboard my shuttle. Alive. And in one piece.”

The shadows spoke to her, and she narrowed her eyes to try and make out the form of who spoke. The voice sounded familiar.

It tsked her quietly. “I’d hate to think that I never at least made an impression on you, Lady Tano. Or, maybe you took one too many blaster shots to the head.”

There was only one person that deep voice could belong to. “Maul?”

“Obviously.”

Ahsoka sighed and tried to gather her bearings as she looked around. She found herself in a small shuttle, one that seemed barely big enough to house the two of them. She mentally took stock of her situation and quickly assessed that she had extensive injuries. She hissed when she tried to move her arm, pain shooting through her shoulder and down her back.

A quiet sigh came from him and he moved to help her. “You took quite the beating.”

“Obviously,” she said, snapping a glare in his direction. He chuckled.

“At least you haven’t lost your spirit.”

Ahsoka appraised him silently as he carefully helped her stand and orient herself. “How long…” Maul raised an eyebrow marking at her, and she shakily finished her sentence. “How long was I out of it?”

He looked thoughtful for a moment as his eyes softened. “Four days.”

Her eyes widened and her mind started to throw itself into a panic. Realizing what was about to happen, Maul set a comforting hand on her shoulder. “Take a deep breath, Lady Tano. You’re safe.”

She did as he asked, squeezing her eyes shut as she did. She couldn’t afford to lose control. Not now. And not in front of Maul.

“I know this is hard,” he said softly. “You can take the time to grieve. Nothing is going to happen to you while you are in my care.”

Ahsoka looked at him with suspicion and curiosity. Why was he being kind?

As if reading her mind, he scoffed. “If I wanted to kill you, Lady Tano, I would have left you on that ship.”

~*~*~*~

Ahsoka slowly and warily opened her eyes, unsure of where she was going to find herself. But when she saw the metal grate of the floor of her ship, she let out a quiet sigh of relief. She pulled herself into a sitting position and eventually struggled to her feet. She looked at herself in the mirror, and she hardly recognized the person staring back at her.

Her face had thinned considerably. Probably because she hadn’t been taking the best care of herself. Despite her efforts, she somehow managed to stay alive. And her body was beginning to pay the price.

With a sigh, Ahsoka scrubbed a hand down her face and turned on the water. She dried her face with a towel before making her way back to her small quarters. The ship she was piloting, the Proxima, was big enough to carry her, another passenger, and some cargo. It wasn’t the fanciest vessel in the world by any means, but it did its job and got her across the galaxy. She had managed to send off a few secure subspace transmissions to Obi Wan, who she recently discovered was still alive. She’d tried to track him down, but he was good at not being found when he didn’t want to be. Ahsoka supposed that’s probably what kept him under the Empire’s radar for so long.

He had assured her that he was okay and offered his condolences when she told him that Anakin was dead. They managed to say their goodbyes properly and went their separate ways.

Ahsoka rummaged through her small storage bin, looking for some clothes that she hadn’t worn for weeks on end. She was running out of motivation to do anything, and that included her laundry.

When her comm link beeped a couple times, she paused, frowning for a moment as she looked at her wrist. Whatever the message was, it wasn’t fully translating on the portable link. She abandoned her search for clean clothes as she made her way to the cockpit. She dropped into the pilot’s chair and tapped a few buttons, waiting for the program to run the decryption and translation.

A few moments later, and a hologram of a woman appeared in front of her. She raised an eyebrow marking as she recognized her face.

“Jhas?” she muttered, frowning at the image.

“I know you might not get this for a while, Fulcrum. But I have some intel you might be interested.”

Part of the message glitched out after that, but Ahsoka widened her eyes and had to rewind it a couple times to make sure she hadn’t misheard anything.

“Come to Dantooine. There’s a small group of us here, and we need your help. Oh, and that intel? It’s about Maul.”

She sat back in her seat with a thud, eyes wide with shock.

She’d played it three times, and she knew she wasn’t hearing things.

Maul.

Maul is alive.

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maverick-werewolf · 4 years ago

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Vampire Fact #7 - Becoming a vampire

Remember the handy post on ways to become a werewolf in folklore vs pop culture? Here’s one of those but for vampires!

Please note, as usual, that this is not going to cover the full range of possibilities, but it will cover the most common/most popular ones. This applies to both folklore and pop culture. And of course, again, I’ll save a full list for when I write my book on vampires, you know?

Please bear in mind that a lot of these come from Romania and other regions of Eastern Europe, which are rich with vampire folklore that is some of the best-preserved that scholars currently have for study. It is essentially the baseline of what we consider “vampires” today.

Something to think about before we enter into this list, of course, is that I want to re-emphasize - and I will do this several times in this post - that vampirism was not a “disease” like it sometimes is considered today. Although vampires were often associated with disease in folklore, vampirism itself is not a disease. It is either a demonic being that is a vampire, or else it is a curse. Vampires have this in common with werewolves of pop culture today that being a vampire is some kind of infectious disease they can pass on to others (here is how lycanthropy isn’t a disease at all in folklore, ever), but that isn’t really a thing in folklore.

Appeared in folklore

Being a demon - A lot of vampires in folklore were not humans at all. They were demons taking the shape of humans (sometimes; they didn’t always maintain that shape, sometimes appearing as mist). It’s important to mention this one because I cannot emphasize enough that vampirism in folklore is generally a demon, demonic possession, or a curse, not a disease like it so often is today.

Demonic possession - Plenty of times, a vampire in folklore is the result of a demon possessing a corpse, and again, they aren’t really humans at all, per se.

Being born cursed, becoming vampire after death - There are all sorts of reasons for this (see the last entry in this “appeared in folklore” list, though even that doesn’t cover all of them). One could be born with the curse of vampirism - but that would only manifest after the person died.

Being cursed - Sometimes somebody just straight-up doesn’t like someone else and then they curse them. After that person dies, they’ll return as a vampire because of the curse. This often didn’t require some complex ritual, because in the olden days, even saying “damn you” was literally considered a curse - this is why it’s called a “curse word.” If you say that to someone, you are literally cursing that person, wishing them to be damned.

Violent life/violent death - Someone who lived a violent life - if they were a killer, if they mutilated others, whatever - and then also died a violent death, such as if they were murdered, would rise again as a vampire.

Incest/born out of wedlock - What it says on the tin. The child would be cursed and then become a vampire after death.

Incorrect burial rites - Gotta get those burial rites correct. Mess them up, and the person will rise again as a vampire. You don’t just stick a person in the ground. Extra measures might be taken to prevent the person becoming a vampire, too, like burying the corpse face-down or sticking needles or a stake in it, as mentioned in this post on weaknesses.

Ignoring traditions - You may have heard of strigoi or the similar word striga from a certain popular fantasy game - or maybe you never played the first one; you should - but it isn’t what you think. A strigoi is a spirit, and if one does not properly undertake the right funerary feasts in the right time period after a person’s death, then that person might rise again as a strigoi - in other words, a vampire of sorts. This basically falls into the same category as incorrect burial rites, but it’s slightly different because these traditions may need to be held more than once, such as once a year, in order to keep the spirit pleased.

Animals jumping over corpses/graves - Cats, dogs, horses, you name it. Animals jumping over graves was not a good thing, especially for the recently interred or those in the process of being buried. They’d probably return from the dead as a vampire.

Suicide - There are some stories in which committing suicide can result in a vampire, such as one tale of a man who hangs himself, becomes a vampire, and then still pursues his girlfriend, who spurns his advances because he’s an evil spirit now. He does not, however, want to drink her blood, because not all vampires actually wanted/needed to do that (more on that later).

Many strange and specific happenstances - These include but are not limited to: not eating garlic during life, a pregnant woman not eating salt during her pregnancy, if the mother of a child is a witch and/or uses spells and incantations, if someone lives an amoral life (such as obtaining money falsely, for instance, as well as being violent etc. as mentioned before), if a pregnant woman is seen by a vampire (and given the evil eye; a big deal in folklore)... all of these would result in the person and/or the child in question becoming a vampire after death, but they would not be born this way. All of these emphasize that being a vampire is a curse, often put upon those who do not live moral lives. Or, I guess, those who don’t eat their proper anti-vampire diet.

Did NOT appear in folklore

Almost any case of a vampire “creating” another vampire - This wasn’t really a thing in folklore. Much like how lycanthropy wasn’t considered a “contagious disease” in any fashion in folklore, being a vampire was a curse, and it wasn’t something they could pass on. Events in a person’s life, whether in or out of their control, determined whether they would become a vampire; this is especially true of Romanian folklore.

Blood transfusion - They didn’t really do blood transfusions back when - though drinking blood was a thing, actually, and not just for vampires; more on that later, though - so obviously there’s no vampire folklore where you put a vampire’s blood into someone else and then that person becomes a vampire, for so many reasons.

Drinking vampire blood - Nope. In fact, a vampire’s heart was sometimes eaten or the ashes of the heart drank by someone in order to destroy a vampire.

Biting a human - Nope. First of all, vampires in folklore didn’t really have the signature fangs to leave those fang marks that means someone will turn into a vampire. Vampires drank blood from their victims all the time and no one ended up becoming a vampire from it, really.

And that’s all for now!

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imaginesupply · 5 years ago

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Homecoming - Chapter Four

(Gif's not my own.)

Summary: The day has arrived, Captain Syverson is going home. For good, this time. He is going home to a civilian life he can hardly remember and a wife he barely knows, with memories of the war still fresh on his mind. Love might not be able to heal everything on its own, but it’s a good start.

Genres: Romance, drama.

Story warnings: Smut (always fully consensual), mentions of PTSD and nightmares and mental health, angst, hurt and comfort, fluff, mentions of war (minor), mentions of cheating (minor), mentions of pregnancy (very minor), police appearance (very minor), violence (very minor).

Notes:

-It’s my first time writing for one of Henry’s characters and I’m unsure I did Sy’s character any justice.

-This is a Capt. Syverson x OFC (Ada) story, written in 3rd person POV but OFC’s physical description is very limited so it could also be read as Capt. Syverson x Reader, I think.

-English is not my first language, so there might be some mistakes. Proofread, but not beta’ed. We die like men and all that.

-Timeline is a little wacky: The movie takes place in 2003 and the U.S. forces were withdrawn from Iraq in 2011, but I never set a precise date because I don’t think it’s essential for this story. However, some elements might not be realistic because if we set this story in 2003: Phone cameras quality was not as good as it’s now, but for the purpose of the chapters, I will need you to imagine you could film great videos with your flip phone haha. Plus, it says Sy is coming back after being deployed for more than three years which makes no sense unless we set this in 2006 or later. I am asking you disregard any time inconsistencies.

-Also: I am not American. I only lived in the US for six months and it was in the Midwest, not Texas so please bear with me if I write something stupid.

-Finally: This will be a Christmas fic and I intend to post the last chapter (there will be seven in total) on or before Christmas. However, religion is never mentioned in this story and the Christmas-sy elements of this story are limited to family gathering, gift giving and tree decorating.

Chapter Four starts after the cut. (Chapter Three can be found here.) Let me know if you wish to be tagged in future chapters or if you wish to be removed from the tag list.

Chapter Four

Chapter warnings: PTSD, angst (or as much angst as I’ll ever write), couple’s fight, outdated expectations of marriage (is that even a warning?), mentions of masturbation.

This chapter is a little different from the previous ones and it’s stitched together weirdly. Also, there’s no smut (which is unusual for me!), but Chapter 5 will be more humorous and lighthearted.

°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°

“When’s your next leave?” Harper asked from behind the wheel, knowing better than to take his eyes off the sand road. He had been transferred to the Special Forces after the whole water pumping station incident, with Sy’s approval.

They were at the very back of the convoy, like always. It was the only way Sy was able to keep all the Humvees in sight and look out for everyone.

“Not sure I’m gonna be seeing home before July.” Sy replied, blue eyes scrunched up as he tried making something, anything out in the darkness surrounding them. Doing this scouting mission at night hadn’t been his idea, but the order had come from higher up and it was when the guards were at their lowest.

Harper smiled, a short huff escaping his chest. “Ah yes! What are you going do once you’re home for good?” The soldier asked, the tiniest hint of teasing in his voice. “Give your wife a small army of Texan babies?”

Sy scoffed, his chest shaking beneath the heavy protective vest. “Eyes on the road, soldier.”

“Yes, captain.” Harper chuckled even as he obeyed the command.

The rest of the drive went by in silence. The whole point of doing it at night was to be unseen and unheard. Confirm it was an armory so that an airstrike could later destroy it. Quick and easy.

Sy absentmindedly rubbed his finger through the thick glove, trying to feel the wedding band beneath. He never took the thing off, but it still somehow eased his mind to make sure it was there – make sure she was there across the ocean. They had talked on the phone the night before and he could still hear her shriek as she stubbed her toe on the doorframe whilst pacing around the house as she spoke to him. She wanted to order new tires for his pickup truck because she was afraid the current ones would be expired once he got back. He told her not to worry about any of that, but she insisted and then asked about Aika, changing subjects. No matter what they talked about, he always slept better after hearing her voice.

The landscape changed ever so slightly. They were there, right outside the deserted town’s walls. Sy gave everyone the order to pull up and get ready. It was only when he stepped out of the Humvee, his feet landing swiftly on the soft sand and the cold night’s air hitting his face, that he realized that Sy had been there already. He was dreaming again.

He had been there hundreds of times, taken the same steps, given the same orders and run away from the same explosion. After having the same nightmare night after night, the shock and the surprise element had lessened, but the dread remained unchanged. Sy was cursed to relive the same scene again and again, for moments even wondering if he lacked imagination so much that his mind was unable to come up with anything else.

Still, every night, he'd try changing the outcome, attempt to take control of his past self and make different decisions: refuse the mission, take a different team, catch Lieutenant Wilkins before he had a chance to run into the trap. It never worked. The result was always the same with him shouting for everyone to retreat and grabbing on to the back of Wilkins' uniform, trying to drag him out of the building, unsuccessfully. Then the telltale detonation followed, the building shook and they were thrown backwards with the explosion. When Sy landed on the concrete, there was a corpse - or what remained of it - on top of him. It was what had shielded him from the worst.

He once tried to warn Wilkins about the child's voice asking for help, to tell him it was a trap and that they needed to ignore it, but he was unable to speak. They were there, on the exact spot, a large room right down the stairs with no windows or lights, only three parted doors. Unlike the first time, the real time, he knew what was about to happen, through what door the grenade would be thrown out of before rolling on the dusty ground. And he went through it all over again.

It was the noise that alerted him the first time, the impact as it hit ground and then the rolling sound on the uneven surface.

"Retreat!" Sy heard his own voice shout loud enough for the rest of the team behind them to hear, then an echo of hurried, heavy footsteps followed.

He knew what happened then. Sy waited for the faint, unidentifiable cry for help and for Wilkins to blindly bolt towards the voice, the grenade. He knew he'd unable to stop him this time just like all the others. What was the point of making him relive the same failure over and over again?

"Help!"

Sy froze on the spot, unlike all the other previous nights. This time it was not a random infantile voice. It was Ada's. She was crying out for help, for him.

This time it was him who dashed after the voice, the grenade exploding before he could reach her.

°°°

Ada thought that they had dodged the bullet, that they had somehow managed to avoid all the stuff she had crammed her head with when she had found out Sy was retiring from active combat sooner than expected. The notes she had taken, the websites she had visited, the therapists she had researched and ranked according to online reviews; she had started to think none of these would come in handy. Apart from that small incident when grocery shopping and the whole thing with Tom, Sy was okay, they were okay. Or so she thought.

It only took maybe eight days of Sy being back home to find out that wasn't true. It was almost like when you took a plane and fly halfway across the globe. The first days you’d eat dinner at 3am and go to bed three hours later and nothing felt real. Then it settled in. But this wasn't a spontaneous holiday or a mid-life crisis, this was an honorable discharge. Sy wasn't leaving behind an unsatisfying career, he was leaving the war.

He came home. They reunited, caught up with each other, basked in other's presence. Ada had to keep reminding herself that she could fall asleep at night without the anxiety of feeling like she was wasting away his leave with something as frivolous as sleep.

Only sleep wasn't frivolous, Ada soon came to realize. Sy slept well the first few nights back home. The exhaustion helped, so did sex. Sy would kiss her, roll over, pull her into his arms and fall right asleep after it.

That changed quickly. On the eight night, she woke up to pee hours before dawn only to find his side of the bed empty. She found him downstairs playing on his new console. It was the jetlag that made him unable to sleep, he said. Ada knew better, even as she acquiesced.

The following night, after making love and taking care of her, Sy didn't even bother pretending he was going to bed. "I won't be able to sleep anyways and I don't want to keep you up," he claimed, putting on a t-shirt and some sweatpants before going out for a run. It was past midnight.

After going two days with barely shutting his eyes, Sy did finally fall asleep in bed with her. Ninety minutes later, he was awake again.

"You okay?" Ada groaned softly, forcing her eyes open but it was too dark to see anything. She had woken up with his tossing and turning.

"Yeah, just go back to sleep," Sy replied dismissively, turning on his side and facing the window away from her.

Ada was about to do just that, believing his words in her incoherent sleepiness, when her hand touched his clammy back. He had managed to sweat through his t-shirt, but his skin remained icy.

"You're not okay," she whispered to herself before switching on her small bedside lamp and sitting up.

"I told you to go back to sleep, Ada," Sy protested, still facing away from her.

She shook her head softly and tried to pull him into her arms, but he was too heavy, and she couldn't move him without his help. "If something's wrong, you can tell me, you know."

She waited in silence for him to answer, to say something, anything at all. She had planned on watching podcasts, meeting with veterans and whatever she could do to help, but Sy had come home several months earlier than planned and she didn't know what to do, what was expected of her as a wife, as his partner, as his support person.

"Alright, you don't have to talk if you don't want to," she attempted quietly, sliding back into bed and moving in behind him, doing her best to be the big spoon for once. "We can just cuddle until you fall asleep."

Apparently, that turned out to be the wrong thing to say. Sy jumped out of bed as if her touch had burnt him. "I'm not a fucking child, Ada. I don't need your cuddles."

She flinched at his tone, taking a deep breath but her voice still came out strangled. "I was not implying you were a child, Sy. I just thought - no - I just hoped that you would find some comfort with me," she admitted but he was already getting dressed, sweaty skin and all. "Clearly I was wrong."

His face was red behind his full beard. He was pissed, she could almost feel him buzzing as he tried to restrain his anger and not - she didn't know what he was keeping himself from doing. Whatever it was, Ada was sure his next words hurt just as much as whatever he was initially going to do.

"I don't need you to fucking comfort me, woman!" He spat out, putting on a pair of boots. "I don't need anyone's help and certainly not my wife's!"

With that, he marched to the bedroom door, forcefully throwing it open. "I'm going out for air. Don't wait up for me."

They barely saw each other the next day. Sy texted that he was going to spend some time with his mom. Still hurt and offended, even though she knew this was not about her, Ada left for the day without telling him her whereabouts.

She took her car and drove to the animal shelter to help out. No one was expecting her there, but they gave her some work to do and it did help her feel better for a couple hours at least. But it was barely noon when she was done and she refused to go home, meeting up with friends instead. None of them asked why she wasn't at home practically glued to Sy. They were used to their friend pretty much vanishing off the face of the Earth whenever Sy came home for two or three weeks, but they were wise enough not to question it.

His words had stung. Ada was aware he had been mad, and that people always said dumb stuff when they were mad, but she did find some truth in his words. Why would he need her comfort? Her help? Or even a wife at all?

Sy had lived thirty-three years without knowing her and then three more married to her but living continents' apart. He could command soldiers, lead missions, plan attacks and whatever it was that he also did back in Iraq. The house was his, his mom would be overjoyed to cook for him and do his laundry again if he didn’t want to do it himself and Ada didn't kid herself - if he wanted sex, all he had to do was walk into a bar.

So, technically speaking, she knew Sy didn't need her. He was a grown ass man who could survive on his own better than ninety-nine percent of the population. What had hurt her was that he didn't want her, nor her help or her comfort. And if he didn't want her to try and make his life a lil' bit better, what was even the point. Ada didn't know and all the cocktails she consumed didn't provide an answer either, but they did end up forcing her to eat almost her own weight in food to soak up all the alcohol before driving back home at ten.

She was still fishing out her keys to open the front door, when Sy pulled it open with so much force, it almost flew off its hinges.

"Where the fuck have you been?!" Sy shouted as soon as she set a foot inside.

"I was out with friends.” Ada took off her shoes by the door. "How's your mom?" She looked up only long enough to find him staring down at her with his thick arms crossed in front of his chest.

"I sent you a dozen texts and called you just as many times, but you never picked up." Oh, his tone had switched to that unsettling calm before the storm.

"I apologize, my phone was on silent," Ada replied. It was true, though she had still noticed his calls and texts. "Look I am tired, and I am going to take a shower." She said before walking upstairs to their bedroom.

To her surprise, Sy followed her up, stopping only at their room’s threshold as if he weren’t allowed inside without her forgiveness. "I am sorry for yesterday," he sighed, leaning against the doorframe.

“It’s okay.” Ada shook her head, undressing rapidly and balling up her dirty clothes to throw them in the hamper. She smelt like a whole bar and she was desperate for a shower.

“I didn’t mean it, what I said,” he added, finally walking inside the room but still keeping his distances.

“It’s okay, don’t worry.” She reassured him, disappearing inside the en-suite. This was just a fight. Couples had them all the time. Sy had even apologized. “I am sorry too. For today.”

His voice startled her, Sy was closer than she had expected. “Do you have need for me?” He asked, making her still as she bent down to fetch some fresh towels from the drawer. Did she have need for him? Ada frowned even though he couldn’t see her face. She heard him sigh again behind her.

"I felt useful back in Baqubah. I ran that city, commanded soldiers, gave my country something and then an explosion happens, two of my men die. And you know what they do? They send me home. Not to punish me for fucking up; they send me home because they thought I had witnessed enough shit and deserved an honorable discharge. Whatever the reason, my services weren't needed there anymore."

"Then I come home to my wife, to you, Ada. And you know what?” He asked before providing the answer himself. “The doors don't screech, the mirror has been replaced and my wife doesn’t even need me to take her out on dates or to the movies because she already has someone for that. So really, what's my goddamn purpose here? The house doesn't need me. You don't need me. Even my mother doesn't need me what with her new boyfriend. So why the fuck did I come back?"

He paused and Ada took it as a chance to stand up and face him. She didn’t know what this was. His voice wasn’t loud, he wasn’t shouting, and his posture didn’t appear hostile. They weren’t arguing, this was something different. “That’s not-” Sy cut her off.

"Then, last night, I realize that while you don't need me, I sure as hell need you, Ada. And that's not how I imagined my marriage would be. I should be the provider. I should be taking care of you, not the other way around."

"This is not the 1950s, Sy," Ada chuckled faintly despite herself.

"That don’t matter. It's how I was raised: preside, provide and protect. I don't care about the presiding part; I knew from day one that I'd never be able to boss you around and I didn't want to. But I still very much believe in providing for and protecting what's mine, and instead, you're the one doing that. So, not only did I fail my men back in Iraq, but now I’ve failed you too."

“No. Stop right there.” Ada interrupted him, more forcefully than intended. "Okay, first, you never failed me. Don’t you ever say that.” Sy huffed from his spot by the door, clearly unconvinced but she was determined to get this out. “Second, I... I think you need to stop settling for being needed and instead accept that you are loved, at least by me."

Sy stiffened against the doorframe, his face taking over an unreadable expression beneath his beard. Shit. Did she mess up again? "Did I say something wrong?"

He didn’t reply right away. Ada took a few steps to him when his words took her by surprise. "You said you loved me."

She stopped in her tracks, opening her mouth and closing it again a few times, stammering. Confusion was evident on her face. "Well, yeah."

"You've never said it before," Sy explained, the hint of a smile on his lips.

Ada frowned, a little unsteady on her feet as she thought back. "Are you certain? I'm pretty sure that is what I ended all our phone calls with."

He shook his head. "I meant in person.”

"Oh, I never realized.”

The cold bathroom tile floor was not the place either of them would have picked out under different circumstances, but it was where Sy finally allowed himself to be cuddled into the warmth of her embrace for the first time, his head resting against her naked breast with her slow heartbeat lulling him into a different kind of peace. “I do love you, Sy.”

Ada was no fool, this wouldn’t soothe all his troubles, but for now, it was a start. And that was all she could ask for.

°°°

Sy sat down on the chair in their study. Most walls were covered with Ada’s textbooks from floor to ceiling. He huffed at the sight. If you’d told him five years ago that he’d end up with an academic wife, he’d have laughed in your face. Now, he tested touched the shelves, watching them wobble slightly and decided he ought to build her something sturdier.

First, he had to take care of some administrative bullshit for the new job he'd be starting at Camp Marbry in January. He had always hated bureaucracy but there was no escaping it. He had learned it the hard way as a private. Maybe it was also time he started going through their utilities folders. Ada had taken over all of it when they got married, managing their bank accounts and paying the bills. Sy hadn't taken of that shit in years but he probably should relieve her of some of those chores.

His eyes wandered over to the neatly organized shelves under the office desk, trying to find the correct binder when his attention landed on what appeared to be a fancy silver notebook. Was that the one Tom had mentioned?

Sy knew he shouldn't go through her stuff, but he was curious and it was not like she had hidden it or anything. Ending his hesitation with a shrug, he picked up the notebook only for stray bits of paper to immediately fly out and land on the carpeted floor. "Shit!"

He bent down and gathered them all up quickly in his hand, lest Ada find out he was snooping and chide him like a soldier. He sat back on the chair and started reading through some of the bits and slips of paper he had caught: "shaving gel not cream!", "dog treats (the fancy ones)", "boxer briefs in L"... They were all dated too. Sy figured they were just old shopping lists until he opened the notebook.

The first part appeared to be a logbook of sorts with notes about each and every one of their calls for the past year. Sy went over some of them, grinning despite himself. He never imagined Ada took notes during their weekly phone calls.

"Sy says it's really cold at night in the desert."

"He seems a little down..."

"Aika has a sweet tooth." Damn, he missed that dog!

“Explosion. Two men dead.”

He skipped over the next few pages, remembering it all too well. After the logbook part, came a set of lists, all dated. "The monthly care packages," Sy realized, reading through them and concluding that this was where the bits of paper had fallen from.

All the care package lists were cross-referenced with the calls logbook. Sy had never understood how she always managed to send him exactly what he needed. He wasn't even aware that he had mentioned most of these small things to her. Most of the time, he didn't even understand how she managed to fit so much stuff into those small USPS boxes. Whenever he tried putting everything back in the cardboard box for safekeeping, half of it didn't fit back inside.

He flipped through a few more care packages before landing on a particularly long list. The date was highlighted, it was the package he had received on the month of his birthday. Ada had made him promise not to open it before the 18th. “You can open the box, but I will know if you open the present before your birthday, Sy,” she had warned him on the phone, trying to sound very stern. “And if you do, I’ll come to Iraq just to whoop your ass.” He had laughed so loudly, Harper had knocked on his door to make sure he was alright.

Sy laughed again as he went over the list, remembering how the private from the deliveries and postal department kept on complaining because packages this big were 'not usually authorized' and that he was getting 'favor treatment' because he was captain and that Ada shouldn't even have been allowed to ship a box exceeding the maximum dimensions. Sy had taken the package from the soldier and asked if he fancied a trip to the infirmary. That had shut him up quickly.

There had been candy (no chocolate because it had melted through its packaging once when she had tried sending him some), gum, the two first James Bond novels, dog treats, a new photo of his niece and nephew, underwear that was way too fancy for him and a handwritten letter from Ada.

What had immediately caught his attention was the very neatly wrapped gift box with a big red bow and a small card that reminded him once more not to open it until his birthday and only when he was alone.

Sy laughed, remembering how giddy he was to open that damn box. They'd gone on a recon mission on his birthday and when they got back, everyone was exhausted and dirty. He had hurried to the showers, cutting off some soldiers and then rushed to his private room to open the gift.

In all his adult life, Sy could only remember blushing three times, two of them the same day. First was when Ada said 'I do’ and he tried sliding the ring on her finger, but nervous and tipsy like he had been, the damn tiny thing slipped off his hand and fell on the carpet. Second was when the limo supposed to bring them back to their hotel was caught up in traffic, and the two of them decided to get it on in the chapel's storage room while another couple was getting married. Not only did they promptly – and accidentally, might he add – knock over all the props, he literally ended up fucking her through the cheap and unstable dry wall. The look on the couple’s face had been priceless!

The third time was on his birthday. Inside the box, he had found a handful of professionally made photos of Ada in lingerie and sometimes not even that much. If that didn't have his mind spinning and his dick throbbing after so many months away, he certainly couldn't believe his eyes when he found a small tube of lube and a transparent fleshlight.

It was not the gift as such that made him blush. The photos had him beyond excited and he was all too eager to try out the fleshlight. No, the embarrassment only settled in afterwards. More specifically when Sy remembered that despite having a private room as a captain, the washrooms where shared and he found himself cleaning the fleshlight in the sink with the little water they had, hoping no one would see him.

"Oh shit!"

Sy jumped in his chair at her voice, he hadn't heard her get home, let alone upstairs.

"Fuck. You weren’t meant to see that, Sy.” Ada babbled, quickly walking up to him with a sheepish look on her face.

Sy smiled, interrupting her as he seized her hips and pulled her down to sit on his lap. "It’s okay, darlin'."

Ada's eyes widened incredulously. "Really? You’re not even mad at me for meeting with a therapist to get advice?"

Sy closed his eyes, nostrils flaring for a moment. Right. Admittedly, he had not yet made it to that part but while he wasn't exactly keen on discussing his private life with strangers, he felt no anger at finding out that Ada had tried to look after him. Her words from last night had somehow made it through his thick skull.

"No, I'm not angry, not even for that. I know you were just trying to-"

Sy opened his eyes again at her silence only to find his wife grinning like the Cheshire cat as she looked at the open page on the notebook.

"You didn't even make it that far, huh?" She chuckled, pointing at the list. "Nope, you were still stuck with that ridiculous birthday gift I gave you!" While her tone was accusatory, Sy could see that she was trying not to burst out laughing.

Rolling his eyes, he pried the notebook from her hands and set it down on the desk. "It was not a ridiculous gift. I kept it all," Sy reassured her, pressing her body closer to his. "Well, not the lube. That was gone in weeks. And the photos are definitely a little used now but-"

Ada kissed him out of the blue, shutting him up. "Sy, I really love you but you're giving me secondhand embarrassment right now."

The bear of a man laughed, holding ever impossibly tighter before kissing her forehead. "I love you too, wife." Then, another thought crossed his mind. “Do you think it’s possible to send a care package to a dog?”

@colourmeinblue @hail-horror-queen @youthought-iwasa-nicegirl @kmuir1 @madbaddic7ed @coffeebreathy @purplelove75 @summersong69 @helenaellie

#henry cavill smut #syverson smut #henry cavill x reader #syverson x reader #henry cavill x ofc #syverson x ofc

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x0401x · 4 years ago

Text

Jeweler Richard Fanbook Short Story #17

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Play of Color

Shaved ice.

A summer that everyone, from kids to adults, knew about. But how to say this in English? I’d never been taught that. Could I even say it to begin with?

The beautiful man responded clearly to my offhand doubts, “‘Shaved ice’. Other options such as ‘ice frost’ and ‘snow cone’ also go into the category, but if you are to to regard the context of ‘ice that was shaved’ as important, then I believe ‘shaved ice’ is appropriate.”

“I see, so it’s a direct translation for ‘ice that’s been shaved’. Got it... A-Aaah! Didn’t you put too much syrup? Ah—”

“I will add more ice.”

A rattling sound echoed through the jewelry shop, where there was nobody but the shopkeeper and his employee. Sitting on the tabletop was an ice shaving machine. As one would expect, we couldn’t commit the barbarianism of placing it directly on a glass table, so three cloths were stacked under the machine’s legs. It wasn’t the manual and nostalgic type but an electric one.

A customer had come over with a paper bag from a famous home appliances mass retailer and bought a glittering yellow diamond that they had reserved, but on this occasion, they ended up forgetting the bag from the electronics retail store. The shopkeeper immediately noticed it and contacted them by phone, but they were in the Narita Express, going straight to Bali for vacation. Apparently, they would only be coming back in the beginning of autumn. What luxury.

The customer who was heading to the southern island had casually said, “You can use it if you’d like—actually, please use it and tell me how it went”, then bid goodbye to Richard with a lighthearted voice and hung up. Inside the paper bag was a brand-new ice shaving machine. It also came with small syrup bags. Seven types of them. The mango, ramune, cola, lime and peach ones were a shock to me, as lived in a world of strawberry, melon and lemon ones. So people could enjoy even things like the pleasure of actually visiting stalls at home nowadays?

That was how we decided to choose at our own discretion a time on the following day when there were no reservations, and began holding a shaved ice party for just the two of us. However, when I said in a joking tone that I honestly never thought we’d really get to be the first ones to use something that a customer had forgotten, Mr. Richard Ranashinghe de Vulpian sighed grievously.

“After what happened yesterday, he contacted me to inform that he had arrived in Bali. He posted on social media, ‘I forgot my ice shaving machine, so I asked an acquaintance to try it out. I’m looking forward to it’, so it seems we need to take a video of the shaved ice as fast as possible. Think of this as also a kind of service.”

“There’s all sorts of jobs out there these days.”

Marketing that introduced new products on social media wasn’t something uncommon these days. But I heard that this sort of business was strict about many things, such as obligations and deadlines, so it might be serious stuff in its own way. I thought up until this point, but then my head whispered, “No, hold on” to me. If this was really the case, then bringing along an ice shaving machine immediately before going to Bali didn’t make any sense. Could it be...?

“Did that person leave this here on purpose? It’s clearly something that you can’t bring into an airplane and would get in the way during the trip.”

“That is possible. But it is not something for a single jeweler to judge. There is a possibility that they thought they would be able to enjoy shaved ice at a beach resort but were mistaken, and are now feeling down. Oh... oh, mgh...”

“Ah, the ice turned into water. Didn’t you put a tad too much syrup?”

“Nonsense. From the market price, it is obvious that the more syrup, the merrier.”

“You told that wholesaler who came to buy a ring with lots of decorative diamonds the other day that ‘more doesn’t equal better’, though.”

“Those are two different things,” he said in an eloquent, beautiful Japanese that sounded like it had been cut and trimmed, at which I prostrated myself with a “hahaa”.

Despite the force in his eyes being certain, he seemed to be having trouble putting an appropriate amount of syrup. When he put an abundant amount of the mango, ramune, cola, lime and peach ones all together, the ski slope-like white canvas turned into a color that looked like that of Shinjuku’s gutters during a downpour. Richard would surely call this shade of gray “smoky quartz” or something like that. The fluffy pile of ice was gone, leaving a sleet – or just plain water – in the glass bowl. It would’ve been fine if he had added them little by little, but on second thought, I was thinking this way because I was Japanese, so I was used to the way we added shaved ice syrup to some extent.

As the jeweler, not discouraged, put his bowl under the ice shaving machine, pressed the button and added more ice with crunchy noises, I called out to him, “Hey. Can you lend me that for a bit?”

“I do not mind.”

I took the bowl of water in my hands, adding the syrups of each type little by little. I felt like the jeweler was staring fixedly at me, like, “You’ll only use that tiny little bit of them? Seriously?” but I ignored him. As they said, the last drop makes the cup run over.

The result was...

“Tadaaah.”

A snowy mountain had changed its form into a richly colored shaved ice. I thought it was pretty good, if I could say so myself.

His eyelashes fluttering as he blinked for a moment, the gorgeous jeweler whispered, “Hoo. Excellent. Beautiful.”

“Well, being told that by someone who’s like an incarnation of the concept of beauty is flattering.”

“Ahem. Anyway, this color is extremely tasteful. It bears a close remembrance to ammolite.”

“‘Ammo... nite’?”

“Not ‘ni’, ‘li’. ‘Ammolite’. Ammolite is a gemstone that derivates from living creatures, of which the components obtain an iridescent effect during the many years of fossilization.” Saying this, Richard opened a video on his phone and handed it over to me. I exchanged it for the bowl of shaved ice as if it were an assembly-line system.

What appeared on-screen was a cross-section view of the ammonite. It was split vertically like a CT image taken at a hospital. The contents were a rainbow-colored stone that sparkled brightly. A gradation of red, green and yellow. It changed depending on what angle you looked at it. A while ago, when I heard about the opal, it was revealed to me that this kind of effect was called “play of color”. Still, to think that the inside of a shell could go through such a transition. There was too much depth to the things that happened in nature, and they were immeasurable.

“So can this be called... a stone too...?”

“This would be something that happened about forty years ago, but it was classified as a ‘gemstone’ by the Gemological Society of America. Of course, I do not think it should be pushed through, even if the costumer themselves happen to say that ‘this is a fossil’.”

It apparently depended on how you thought of it. Thinking back, this applied even to the general idea of gemstones.

I flicked the phone’s screen, head-over-heels for the prism-like shells that showed up one after another. Some people used them as pendants or brooches by processing the glittering part with gold.

“How pretty. Hey, do we also have ammolites here in Etrang... eh?”

“There is a possibility that we will one day. Something the matter?”

The beautiful jeweler had been scooping the shaved ice with a tiny spoon and eating it. He wasn’t eating it in a rushed way at all, but half of the iceberg was already gone. With perfect moderation, so that the proportion of the colors of the syrups that I had added one by one wouldn’t crumble.

“D-Did you like it that much?”

“I have never eaten shaved ice at Japanese stalls. Having a frozen desert in a refreshing place like this has a nostalgic air to it.”

He had never waged shaved ice at a stall. Did that mean he had eaten shaved ice at some fashionable shop? Probably not, I thought. A normal Japanese person wouldn’t eat shaved ice at that pace. The reason went without saying. This pace was – how should I put it? – dangerous.

“Richard, hey, listen well. Shaved ice is—”

“Why are you coming close?”

“I’m telling you something important. You have to eat shaved ice at a high pace.”

“But why are you shortening the distance between us? You are too close.”

“Don’t get hung up on minor stuff. More importantly, you already ate a lot of this shaved ice, right? Aren’t you tired of it? I can eat the rest.”

“It is terribly disconcerting to hear this from the father of this work of art, but I do not see any reason for that whatsoever, thus I humbly decline.”

“Aah! Don’t gulp it down! I said don’t gulp it down!”

“I am not. I do not eat that way.”

“Like I said, that’s not what I’m talking about...”

“It is impolite for me to eat by myself. Hurry and make yours to eat as well.”

“Whatever happens got nothing to do with me...”

Glancing backwards at the jeweler as he gave me an aloof nod, I began making my own shaved ice.

Later on, after Richard pleased the customer by sending them pictures of the shaved ice, he reported back to me. He probably reported because the pictures he had sent to the customer was of the shaved ice that I had made for myself, on which the colors were scattered in the form of a whirlwind. I smiled back, replying that I was glad, and not saying anything else. I also didn’t tell him that, by the time he remembered we had to do a photo shoot of it, the beautiful jeweler was making a face that looked like a boy having a worrisome migraine due to some anguish towards the meaning of life and death.

Summer was not yet over. We also didn’t know yet whether or not the customer in Bali would come to retrieve the ice shaving machine. Etranger wasn’t that big, so Richard was probably troubled that it was left there. But if they didn’t come to get it, I might be able to enjoy eating shaved ice with Richard in the summer every year for a while, I thought. And each of these times, I’d be sure to make a shiny mountain of ice in the colors of a rainbow, just like an ammolite. Just like the sparkly smile that Richard showed, I thought that it’d be great if such a summer came around and was looking forward to it.

#housekishou richard shi no nazo kantei #housekishou richard #jeweler richard #the case files of jeweler richard #nakata seigi #richard ranashinghe de vulpian #richard ranashinha de vulpian #jr short story collection #tsujimura nanako #yukihiro utako #novel #my translation #richard

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cherry-gemz · 5 years ago

Text

Healing Hands: Chapter One

Summary: You find yourself abroad in London as the Chief of Pediatrics. Everything has been running smoothly until you are faced with an undiagnosed case and the doctor assigned is anything but willing to face defeat. Will you be able treat the child's unknown disease in time, along while facing uncharted waters with love in the workplace?

Parings: Henry Cavill {Dr. Cavill} x Y/N {F!Reader}

Rating: Overall series 18+ only, Chapter is PG

Word count: 2200 +/-

Tags: @evansamericanass @meowpurrbooks @lilithpaijiee @pterodactylterrace

A/N: Trying something new at writing Henry fanfic. IDK if it’s any good, but either way wanted to start writing. LMK if you're interested, comments and tags welcomed! 💜

P.S. I am no means in any medical field or sorts, so if I get something incorrect on a term or process, bear with me xo.

----------------------------------------------------

You knew that it was a gamble moving to the UK for the Chief of Pediatrics position. But it was time for a change. You needed to leave Eugene, Oregon. Start fresh. There was too much pain there and you had to get away. So when your cousin, who was a nurse from Brighton informed you that there was a need at her hospital for the highly-visible role, you thought why the hell not? You'd score a free round-trip to England of anything and actually see some family you've never met if it didn't pan out.

Little did you know that you'd fall in love with London: the weather, the people, the imagery of it all. Oregon weather wasn't all too different, so you acclimated well. It had been a few months of you settling in: understanding more of the language barriers despite it still being English. Knackered, cuppa, trollied.

That is until you had a run in with the division chief of Pediatrics, Dr. Cavill. The staff adored the renowned and painstakingly handsome doctor. And while you could appreciate the view as well, you never were on the same page with his ideals. His defiant behavior of undermining your direction of the unit was becoming a thorn in your side.

But this time, this time you'd had enough. He mentioned to a patient's parents, while with the speciality case, the hospital could take on their son's situation as priority and receive around the clock care. You threw down the patient's file on your desk and pinched the bridge of your nose. It was a lost cause, you had looked into the patient ever since you started the role.

The child seemed perfectly healthy and lab tests may show no signs of illness. But the chronic pain and fatigue were unexplainable. You empathized, but the poor child has undergone so many tests that at this point it was about providing facts to the parents. And right now, there was no cause of alarm. You weren’t a Dr. House, this wasn’t television. You didn't have the staff to dive into any research or clinical studies. You had a hospital to run, employees to pay, other lives needed saving.

You picked up the phone to the case nurse on the pediatric floor.

"Hello? Yes, this is Dr. Y/LN. Can you please remind Dr. Cavill of our 5pm? He's late. Thank you."

Slowly hanging up on the phone, you turn back to the patient's file. The boy, Jon Foulger, was just shy of his ninth birthday. No positive results for Lupus or Guillain-Barré syndrome. But This case had been bothering you, poor Jon had been in the hospital for three months and still no progress on a diagnosis. While you were never known to give up on a patient, you knew giving false hope to the parents was detrimental not only to the family, but to the same of the hospital's integrity. You were in a high esteemed role now, you knew that you had to discuss further with Henry on his actions.

Twenty more minutes passed by and you checked your watch. Fuming, you stood up from your desk and headed down to the pediatric floor by the lift.

As you briskly walk down the hall corridors you can't wait to give Cavill a piece of your mind. You turn the corner and ram right into a brick wall, or so you thought. Your hands instinctively pick up and see placed on the doctor's firm chest. You immediately flush and lose composure.

You knew he was a good-looking man, but this up close and personal was a whole other level. His dark hair and curls were fluffy and good enough to touch. His piercing steel blue eyes looked at yours and made immediate contact. His bone structure made the Michaelangelo's David blush.

"My apologies, Dr. Y/LN. Didn't see you there," his voice was like butter.

You straightened out your white coat, "Ahem, yes. Well I seemed to have been lost in thought. My apologies as well."

"You wanted to see me?"

"Yes, almost an hour ago…" you shifted your weight to stand a bit taller. He towered over you with his muscular frame and height.

"Patient...Jon Foulger. We must discuss the repercussions of your current actions."

"Jon-Jon," he replied stoic.

"Excuse me?"

"He likes to be called Jon-Jon."

"Well yes, let's go to my office and discuss further, please Dr. Cavill."

"As you wish," he replied and pivoted his heel to the nearby lift.

The rise up to the 12th floor was a quiet one, awkward overall as you knew you had to give a coaching and hated the notion. You missed practicing medicine; while you enjoyed the administration of your position, the thrill of helping others and using your hands were erased with cases of employee performance reviews, reports, budgets.

He coughed into his fist and then held his strong hands in place in a clasp.

He finally broke the silence, "Enjoying London?"

"Yes, thank you."

"Have you had any time to take a holiday?"

"Um, no. Been too busy."

"It might do you some good," he replies as he looks to check his watch.

You huff, "Somewhere you need to be, Doctor?"

"No, just checking the time."

His arrogance irritated you and now you weren't feeling as badly to give him his coaching.

The lift opened as you arrived at the floor and he held out the door for you to exit first. You nod and walk to your office, your kitten heels clicked on the hospital's linoleum floor and the sound echoed through your ears.

As you both enter your office you stride quickly to your desk to assume dominance of the room.

Henry stood near the doorway, admiring your photos and certificates on the wall.

"I knew you were American, but Stanford Medical? Interesting, thought you were from Oregon. When will you be returning?" You can't read him if that was a compliment or sarcasm.

"Dr. Cavill, would you be so kind to shut the door," you state firmly and sit down, ignoring his comment about your return to the states.

His brow peaks and he nods, turning to close the door.

"Please, have a seat," you say.

"I'd rather stand, thank you," he replies and you know this is going to be a difficult conversation.

"Well this will only take a moment then. Your recent behavior with the Foulger family, while I commend you for your dedication, has been slight askew with the hospital's protocols."

"Is that so?" His voice dropped and his brow arched. "In what way, Dr. Y/LN?"

You cough as the drawl of his mouth turns upward and you can swear there's a smug smirk across his face.

"Well...for one...you've promised around the care of the child. Now simply put, we've exhausted all efforts for a diagnosis and until Jon...Jon-Jon…shows any new symptoms, we are at liberty to provide him comfort care for the remainder of the evening, but he will need to be discharged in the morning. We've exhausted him enough with MRIs, blood tests. I'm at a rock in a hard place, Dr. Cavill."

"The rock or the hard place where you give up on a child's well-being simply because you haven't thought to see him as a person? Rather as a number on your statistical analysis of how functioning this hospital is?"

His eyes pierce through you and make your knees grow weak. The nurse staff usually talks about him being a cuddly bear, always making the children laugh and smile. But this man before you, why he's no cuddly bear. He was a beast of a man. A grizzly in fact.

"Now see here, I will let you know that this case is very important to me. All the children are. But what you fail to see is that for whatever reason you've gravitated to this particular case, you're chasing something that doesn't exist."

His broad shoulders and strong neck tense at your words. He blinks methodically, as if he's scoping out his prey. No, don't let his charm and rugged good looks distract you. This is a man who is used to getting what he wants and you are a woman who knows perfectly what to do with that.

"And I believe you're blind, Doctor."

"Excuse me?" Your voice was shrill and short. "This is borderline insubordination. I'd be careful with your next words, Cavill."

"Pardon my frankness, Dr. Y/LN, but I've been here longer and know these patients in and out," his voice raised and you could see the hint of a vein showing on his thick neck. "Some of the children come from very poor and debilitating environments. We can't just cast them off once a diagnosis doesn't stick simply because we need the bed or we're done trying!"

"DR. CAVILL," you exclaim and let out an exasperated sigh. His demeanor changed and his upper lip curved slightly.

“Dr. Y/LN. With all due respect, I think you’re making the wrong judgement call here. Things are not adding up with Jon-Jon, if we just give it a few more days...I feel like we’re making progress and I’ve labored enough research into it-”

"Again, while I appreciate your passion...”

“Passion which you need to show for the patient-”

You raise your hand to silence him, “This is not up to you, Dr. Cavill. As Chief of Pediatrics, this is my call. We will discharge Jon tomorrow if he does not show any new symptoms. If you disobey any further protocols, I will have no other choice but resort to disciplinary action. Do I make myself clear, Doctor?"

You press your hands on your desk and lean inward, portraying your stance.

"Perfectly," he responded.

"And another thing, I -" you start, but he turns and abruptly walks out of your office, leaving your door open.

The nerve! Did he really just do that? Where does he think he's going? Didn't I just tell him I'd resort to disciplinary action?!

You rush out of your office and you see him striding through the hall. His strong posture, shoulders back eluded to years of boarding school perhaps or military. You noticed his fists were clenched and it gave you slight satisfaction that you chipped away ever so slightly at his ego.

It was going to take a lot more than that to send you packing, you thought.

----------------

The next day came and went. You had confirmed that Jon-Jon was discharged with the floor nurse and while you were relieved to have handled that quite professionally, you knew it did not bear well with the rest of the staff.

You were still getting your feet wet and learning more about your team. It was solid overall, many years of expertise collectively, but they treated you like the outsider you were. No requests to meet for lunch or drinks after work. No camaraderie birthday cards seeking your signature or date night advice. Just the normal days in and out, pulling many late nights in your office, up to the point of exhaustion. You'd collapse in your double bed after work, stare at the ceiling of the small room you rented from your cousin, Laura, and try to drown out all the bustle of seven people in the same 3 bedroom flat.

Just like any other day, You sat alone during lunch. But that never really was ever a bother being used to it now. You were excited about an audiobook you were meaning to dive into and right when you were about to use your airpods, that's when you noticed him enter the cafeteria.

His presteen, crisp white lab coat was tight around his build. You could tell he took fitness seriously and wondered what he was hiding underneath it all. You unknowingly licked your lips as you watched him search for a fruit out of the bowl off the commons counter. Curious to know what he fancied: was he into a sweet apple or something more tart like cherries.

He picked up a peach and squeezed it with his massive hand, making it look quite comical considering his size. His eyes met yours and you quickly looked away, trying to now draw any attention to yourself. You fumbled with your phone as you connected to the audiobook and heart his footsteps approached your empty table.

"Good afternoon," he said. His voice was deep, smooth, and inviting. Not at all like the day before in your office.

You play coy and don't bother to look up, fidgeting with your sandwich.

"Hello," you reply distantly. He made you nervous. Would he bring up yesterday's conversation? Will he continue to look that delectable each day?

He smirked and took a bite of the fuzzy peach. There was a slight crunch as he dug his pearly whites into the rounded fruit. The velvet and thin layer of skin eased off and entered his mouth; he chewed slightly and let the piece swirl around with his thick tongue.

You peered to look at him and his stare hadn't relented. He took another bite. This time the luscious juice slips out of the white-yellow fleshed fruit and down slightly on his chin. Oh, to be that piece of fruit and have him ravish you that way. How he’d expertly use his hands over you and taste you with those lips.

He can tell you're still distant, however he notices you're unable to tear your eyes away from him.

He walks over, closer to you now, and you can smell his cologne: a woody aromatic scent tied with a hint of suede. It's downright delicious and with the mix of the peach, your senses are in overdrive.

What is it with this man and his ability to excite and anger you all at once? You not only want to put him into his place, you want to do so right here on the cafeteria table and have your way with him.

"Lovely day, isn't it?" He smiles devilishly and places the half eaten fruit on the table next to your phone and walks away.

Your cringe and use all your might to not look back at him. He's going to make this very hard for you, very hard indeed.

#henry cavill #henry cavill fanfic #henry cavill x reader #henry cavill x female reader #henry cavill imagine #henry cavill fics #romance #london #Healing Hands #enemies to lovers #doctor romantic

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dotnscal · 4 years ago

Photo

BAD THINGS HAPPEN FILL - TAKING THE BLAME

this is my first ever fill for @badthingshappenbingo ! the prompt was obi wan + taking the blame -- it sort of ended up being very oddly cody centric, but i still hope you enjoy!! also send more prompts (characters or ships!) they’re fun!!!

fandom: the clone wars, prequel trilogy

featuring: cody, obi-wan, and a bit of anakin

words: 2.9k

“Cody breaks the news about casualties to General Skywalker. Obi-Wan steps in.”

ao3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29349840

OR READ IT HERE! :

disclaimers: i know NOTHING about war and it shows. no idea how battle strategy works so if you know anything about that... close your eyes for that part.

anakin might be ooc. he has issues and in this case they come from a good place but they’re just... misdirected

have fun reading! send me prompts!!

also if you want to read with italics and fun formatting please read on ao3. it is 1:23 am and i want to post this but i have class at 10 and no energy to add italics into this </3 sorry i love you </333

Cody takes a deep breath, straightens his posture, and reaches forward to turn on the holo.

Almost immediately, blue light flickers to life in front of him, casting the inside of the empty command tent in its glow. It might have been enjoyable to look at—far more enjoyable than the mud and dirt Cody’s been dealing with for the better part of two weeks now, at least—but what takes up his attention are the two figures now projected before him, one with arms crossed over his chest, the other standing at attention a step behind and to the left.

“General,” Cody greets, the eyes under his bucket glancing from one figure to the other. “Captain.”

Under more relaxed circumstances, he might’ve risked using the name of the man he’s known since birth, the brother he’s fought beside for some time, now—but these aren’t relaxed circumstances, and Cody’s better than most at sticking to formality.

“Commander,” General Skywalker greets, the corners of his lips turned down in noticeable wariness. If only he knew. “You have a report for us?”

Right to business. It’s necessary, in a campaign like this, but that doesn’t make it any easier to brace himself for what he’s about to disclose, or for how he knows Skywalker will react. He takes a moment to breathe in the safety of his bucket, the solitude of the command tent, before he nods an affirmative.

“Yes, sir.” Get it out, Cody, just get it out. “We managed to take the hilltop about two standard hours ago, and the Separatist forces have been drawn back to a new front. However, we… encountered strong resistance, and we suffered severe casualties as a result.”

It was already silent, but now, tension seeps into the air. Behind Skywalker, Rex shifts almost imperceptibly— imperceptible to anyone who wasn’t a brother, maybe, who didn’t know him so well, but Cody sees it, and he, too, braces himself.

Skywalker doesn’t miss a beat, frown deepning. “How severe?”

It’s moments like these that Cody is beyond glad for his bucket. “Severe, sir,” Cody repeats, unwilling or unable to say much beyond that. He hasn’t even written the formal report yet, the casualty forms and the requisition requests for the new shinies—he’s just coordinated the digging of the graves, the making of the memorials. “It wasn’t—”

“Commander,” Skywalker interrupts, a certain intensity to his eyes that Cody’s seen only a few times. It still makes him feel breathless, and not in a good way. “I want a number.”

A number. Cody has the numbers in his head, has already committed them to memory, but speaking them aloud…

“Fifty-three confirmed, sir,” he says, as evenly as he can manage to. “One hundred thirteen unaccounted for.” Idly, Cody remembers that he’ll need to start organizing the search effort for the bodies, once the burials are done—if they’ll even have time for a search effort before their next deployment, but Cody hopes they will, hopes they’ll be able to find and bury each brother properly—

“How many from the 501st?” Skywalker’s voice is curt, and Cody sighs a silent sigh.

This had been his worry, at the outset of this campaign. With their own numbers down, the GAR had approved the 212th to temporarily borrow some of the 501st’s men—men who were now dead, who had died away from the brothers that meant the most to them.

Kriff it all.

“Twenty-nine confirmed,” Cody managed, ignoring how dry his mouth, his throat, felt. “Seventy-two unaccounted for.”

Something changes in Skywalker’s expression. A flicker of something Cody’s only seen once or twice shines in his eyes, in the sudden stiffness to his body. The first time he’d seen it, he’d quietly patched into Rex’s HUD channel, asked if there was something that he needed to know about the General, if Rex needed transfer forms—but he’d been promised that everything was alright, that whatever was going on with Skywalker, it wasn’t being taken out on Rex.

Unfortunately, it looked like the time had come for it to be taken out on Cody.

“Commander.” Deep breaths, Kote. Skywalker stands stiff as a tower, arms crossed firmly over his chest, lips almost in a scowl as he stares at Cody as though he’s nothing at all. “Do you want to tell me why my men are dead?”

It comes from a good place. Cody knows this. Skywalker cares for his men, the same as Kenobi does. Rex has told him as much, and any man in the 501st would promise the same. Only he cares for them differently, and it’s a difference that Cody isn’t used to, no matter how hard he tries to catch up. Kenobi cares for his men, does all he can to protect them—and Skywalker does all he can to hurt whoever’s hurt them.

In Skywalker’s mind, behind the anger Cody can feel even through the holo, Cody is the one who’s hurt them. Forget the clankers—Cody might as well have been the one to take a blaster to them, for all it matters to Skywalker.

He takes another deep breath.

“I’m sorry, sir.” Start with the condolences. It makes things easier when he has to give this news to Kenobi, and Cody hopes it’ll do the same job now that he’s breaking it to Skywalker. “As I said, we were facing heavy opposition. There was artillery positioned at the top of the hill while we were attempting to take it.” Cody forces himself through the words he’s rehearsed, the words he’s carefully chosen and prepared, but Skywalker’s expression doesn’t change one bit. “We had planned a flanked approach, but found that it wasn’t suited to the terrain, and I decided—"

“Forgive my commander, Anakin.”

A voice, melodic and smooth, speaks from behind Cody, and he might’ve jumped, alarmed at how easily Kenobi’s entrance slipped under his radar, were he not so utterly focused on trying to minimize Skywalker’s anger.

Obi-Wan steps forward, standing now at Cody’s side, and Cody’s grateful for his bucket again as he gives the Jedi a bewildered glance.

“And forgive me for my tardiness. I’m afraid I was held up, helping with the wounded.”

Tardiness. Cody blinks. Kenobi’s not late to this meeting.

Kenobi wasn’t invited to this meeting. Nor was he supposed to know about it until after the fact.

It hadn’t been a deliberate exclusion on Cody’s part. But Obi-Wan was taking their losses hard enough already, and Cody was convinced that the last thing he needed was to be met with anger from the one person who meant more to him than anything else in the world. It was an easy conclusion to reach—Cody would take care of it, bear the brunt of Skywalker’s anger, and inform Kenobi after the fact. It was, after all, just another duty.

Now, though… despite how careful he’d been to keep Kenobi out of this conversation, Cody can’t help but be selfishly, horribly relieved that he’s here now.

“Obi-Wan,” Skywalker greets tersely, Rex giving a nod from behind him. His posture hasn’t lost any of its stiffness, but the curve of his lips is somewhat less severe. Kenobi nods at each of them in turn, and Cody stands dumbly at his side.

“As I was saying,” Kenobi picks up, smooth and calm and polished, ever the negotiator, “you’ll have to forgive my commander. I’m afraid that we’ve seen quite a lot of action in the past few days, and he may have forgotten some of the details of our campaign.”

Cody hasn’t forgotten shit. Somehow, he gets the distinct impression that Obi-Wan is fully aware of this—but he doesn’t challenge his General on his words, instead remaining cautiously silent, waiting to see where he’s planning to take this conversation, while Skywalker casts a wary glance Cody’s way.

It’s better than the glares he’d gotten before, at least.

“I believe Cody was detailing our efforts to recover the hilltop from Separatist occupation,” Kenobi begins crisply, pausing for a moment to wait for Skywalker’s nod before he continues. “As he mentioned, the terrain complicated our initial plans of a multifaceted approach. Due to this and many other complications, I made the decision to utilize a forward charge.”

For one long, long moment, Cody is utterly thoughtless, struggling to process what Obi-Wan’s just said, what he’s just done.

After another moment, he has the sense of mind to brace himself, to prepare for the full extent of Skywalker’s upset, to hear whatever harsh criticism and rebukes he has to offer.

Nothing comes. Instead, Obi-Wan clears his throat.

“At the moment, it was the only maneuver available to us.” Cody dares to look up, dares to take in the way Skywalker’s expression has softened just barely, the way even Rex, stiff and still, seems slightly surprised for Kenobi’s words to not have been met with an outburst. “I deeply regret each and every life that it cost, but I assure you and your captain that your men died as heroes, fighting alongside their brothers, and that the others and I will do all we can to ensure that they are treated as such.”

Another beat of silence. Cody watches Skywalker’s throat bob as he swallows, and then watches as he nods just once. He still doesn’t speak.

“I’ll be able to discuss the matter in more detail later,” Kenobi promises, and Skywalker deflates a little bit more at that, some more of that stiffness fading away. Silently, Cody marvels at how the hell his general is accomplishing all this. “Until then, though, my commander and I have some more business to see to. I trust that you understand, Anakin.”

“I understand,” Skywalker repeats, his gaze wary but not overly hostile as he looks over at Obi-Wan. He glances at Cody for a moment, expression hardening just so—but when he looks to Kenobi again, the hardness melts away once more, leaving just a solemnity that still feels out of place on Skywalker’s face. “I’ll talk to you later, Obi-Wan.”

Skywalker turns, gives a nod, and behind him, Rex moves to a panel, presses a button. The holo in front of Cody flickers out a moment later, Rex and his general just gone, just like that, and Cody finds himself staring at the space their blue projections previously occupied.

What the hell had just happened?

Beside him, Kenobi sighs, lifts a hand—then rests it on Cody’s shoulder, just for a moment, over his armor as though to console him, before letting it drop and stepping away, and finally, finally, Cody snaps out of it enough to find words.

“General—” Kenobi’s already moving to slip out of the tent, but he pauses at Cody’s voice, leaving Cody to tense up, realizing at once that he hadn’t actually planned what he was going to say.

“Wait.”

He hates how foolish his own voice sounds, so uncoordinated and unlike himself. Kenobi turns, but his brow is furrowed with that concerned look he wears more often than not, and he blinks at his commander as though nothing at all had just happened.

“Is everything alright, Cody?”

Again, Cody feels himself grasping for words, struggling to speak what he feels. In the end, he goes for simplicity.

“You didn’t have to do that, sir.”

Kenobi raises an infuriating brow, his expression the picture of innocence. “Do what, exactly?”

Cody’s confused, and his heart is still beating too fast, and all of it makes him far less careful about what he says, more willing to speak freely in the way Obi-Wan always insists he feel free to do. He swallows.

“Lie, sir,” he replies, somehow feeling a need for breath. “It wasn’t your decision to attempt that charge. It was mine.”

He’d been the one to first bring up the idea, huddled with the General and five other men behind an outcropping, knee-deep in mud with blaster fire ringing in his ears. He’d suggested it, trying desperately to find a way out of their current predicament. It had been his plan.

Obi-Wan’s expression softens, just for a beat, and he steps forward. “You may not see it that way, Commander,” he says softly, too softly, just soft enough for something in Cody’s chest to twist, “but I do.”

Cody’s at a loss for words again, but he can tell that if he doesn’t say something, Kenobi will turn to leave once more—so, desperate, he says the first thing that comes to mind.

“But I brought it up, sir.” He’s not usually so insistent in any matter, and certainly not in front of his general, but there’s something in the other man’s eyes that makes Cody’s throat feel thick with the need to speak, to say something to take away the distance in his gaze. “It was my suggestion. I made the plan. It’s—” A heartbeat, loud and clear in his chest. “It’s not your fault.”

Fault. It’s the trickiest part about war. Cody likes to think he’s come to terms with the fact that no matter what choices he makes, no matter how many hours he spends poring over strategy, his men, his brothers, are going to die. It’s what they were made to do, and he grew up knowing it—though that doesn’t make it any easier to face, any easier to silence the what ifs that come at night, all the ways things might’ve been different, the ways he might’ve saved just one more brother—

But Kenobi. Kenobi takes it harder than Cody’s ever seen, and now, it seems, is no different.

He almost flinches at Cody’s words, and the commander sucks in a breath at the sight, at the flash of vivid hurt he sees on Obi-Wan’s face before he quickly recovers, before he covers it up again. One deep breath, and it’s like Cody never said anything at all, Kenobi’s face returning to a practiced, careful calm.

“I appreciate your sentiment, Commander,” he begins, voice still quiet and distant in a way that grips Cody’s heart. “Truly, I do.” Cody doesn’t doubt it, not when he can see the sad sincerity in Kenobi’s eyes—but there’s more coming, and Cody braces himself.

“However,” Kenobi says, swallowing again, almost imperceptibly. “I’m afraid that I was the one to give the order to initiate that charge. I believe that makes me far more culpable than you.”

Cody blinks, unbelieving, because Kenobi can’t be serious about this—but kriff, that look is still in his eyes, shining blue-grey and looking right into Cody’s heart.

“General.” Cody puts the same intensity behind the word as he might’ve if he were admonishing him for escaping medbay again, or trying to evade the medics. “It was my plan.” At a loss, he shakes his head again, staring at the other and imploring him to feel his sincerity even through the bucket, to see the truth of the matter as it stares at both of them. “If anyone is to blame, sir, it’s me, not you, and—” He swallows hard. “General Skywalker should know that.”

For one brief, fleeting moment, Obi-Wan smiles—a sad smile, with none of his usual lightness. Somehow, it’s worse than the sad look he’d been wearing before. “It was my order, Commander,” he says faintly, meeting Cody’s gaze head-on. “And it is my responsibility to accept the consequences.”

Cody stares, baffled—accept what consequences? General Skywalker’s anger, or the burden of requisition forms, or the guilt, the kind that’ll suffocate you at night—before he can manage to respond.

“But sir,” he insists, that boldness from before back, boldness that he would never dare to utilize were it not for stakes like these, for something as important as his general is to him. “General Skywalker—”

Again, Obi-Wan smiles sadly, giving just one mild shake of his head to cut Cody off—and again, a careful hand raises to rest on his shoulders.

“Better that he’s mildly upset with me than putting an undue burden on you,” Obi-Wan says gently, with a ghost of that mirth he usually carries so effortlessly. It fades after a moment, just as his hand falls away from Cody’s shoulder, and Obi-Wan replaces it with solemnness. “I’ll deal with him,” he promises. “And I’ll see that your brothers are taken care of.”

His words strike something deep in Cody’s heart, something he hadn’t known was there. He knows, of course, what Obbi-Wan means—the burials, the recovery efforts, the wounded, all of it. He’s done as much before, has always cared for his men deeply enough to help with that sort of thing, but now—now, it’s so much more, and Cody doesn’t know what to say.

“General,” he says, something in his tone pleading, hoping that Obi-Wan will hear him, will break free of whatever burden he’s placed on himself, or at least let Cody carry it with him—

But Obi-Wan’s eyes only sadden further, and he bows his head just so, taking a step back.

“I’m sorry, Commander.” Another step away, and Cody’s words burn at his throat, the urge to tell him not to go, to wipe away all of his doubts, all of the blame he carries, to tell him that there’s nothing to be sorry for, it’s not his fault—

Obi-Wan manages a weak echo of a smile, meeting his gaze one last time. “I’ll do better, next time.”

A promise—a promise that he doesn’t need to make, something Cody already knows, deep down in his chest, but before he can tell him that, his general’s gone. The tent’s entrance flap swings slightly in the wind, and Cody stands, alone and with a soreness in his heart that hurts more than he can explain.

#tcw #star wars #badthingshappenbingo #codywan #fuck it. putting it in the tag #cody #fav cody #obi wan kenobi #fav obi wan #commander data #fic #clone wars fic #there. thats good.

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annonmaly · 4 years ago

Text

Ok, It's Not Red. So What? (continuation)

Noé and his left eye

At this point, I'm wondering why I decided to do this. At first, I just saw this official artwork collection, and I'm like: "These are cool, let me post something short about what I think (cos' I got a lot of time). Some of these ideas may already be out there. But still, I may drag someone else in this 'what if' hole I'm in". I meant this to be one post with 500 words only. But lo' and behold! I'm now on the fourth part of this thought dump. My lazy brain is so proud of me right now.

These posts could be read separately. But if you have some minutes to waste and have nothing better to do. Check out the previous parts here:

Part 1: Regarding some of VnC Artwork

Part 2: Oh, It's Not Red

Part 3: Ok, It's Not Red. So What?

No promises that it's worthwhile tho'.

Hopefully for the last time, a friendly reminder that best in writing is an award I never received. I'm not the person who could analyze, explain, or theorize things. Please bear that in mind while reading. Photos are not mine, of course. Also, spoiler alert to be safe.

Now that I said everything I want to say. Let's finish this thing. This would be the last absurd idea that I want to share.

I read this theory a while ago that Noé's left eye was partially blind. This was the result of his injury during his childhood. As proof, Noé always received an injury on the left side. I totally agree with this theory. There's something wrong in that left eye of his. What if Noé's left eye lost its original power? Or What if it's not his eye to begin with? Sounds farfetched? Yeah, it is, but give me a break here. This was on my head for a long time now, and this needs to be out of my system.

Ok, first, let me tell you why I think his left eye is suspicious.

1. Noé had an eye injury when he was a kid. But after a while, it healed as nothing happened. This could easily be explained. It was healed totally by his vampire's power.

2. How and when he received that injury is questionable. (Actually, that whole story is suspicious) Did he receive it before or after being kidnapped? I don't much about slave trade in VnC world. But, if you're going to sell something you don't want it to have visible damage, right? (Sorry if the comparison sounds offending)

3. This may be for artistic purposes. However, there are panels where Noé's left eye was hidden by his hair or something. Most of them are when he is emotional. Or, more precisely, when it's about Vanitas. This is not always the case, and maybe I'm just reading to it more than necessary. But let me give you some examples:

(I had a hard time in this cos' I'm confused about what is left and right)

Let me briefly explain the picture from left to right

Bal Masque Arc: (It is not noticeable in this arc, actually. But when Noé is scolding Ruthven, we can't see his left eye.) The image above is when human Vani told Noé to leave him alone Then the one beneath is the moment when Noé declared that he will stay with human Vani.

Catacombs Arc: This is the time when Noé forgot to cut his hair. His left eye is hidden at about 90 percent of this arc. I only saw it again when Noé got angry with the weird doctor because he keeps calling human Vani by number "69". Even after the conclusion of this arc, his left eye is hidden.

Pre-Gevaudan Arc: We all know what happened the night before this. In the panel above, his eye was hidden when he was expressing his guilt. Then when he's being honest, Mochijun-Sensei showed his left profile.

Misha Arc: I know it's still fresh in your memories. To make this short, they are fighting to the death. The above panel is when Noé's reevaluating the events that happened. Then below is when he realized that he did not look at human Vani properly.

I'm a VaNoé shipper so I could go on all day, but I think I already get my point across. There's a pattern here when human Vani and Noé are having an issue. Or when Noé can't understand the former, his left eye is hidden. After they kiss and makeup Mochijun-sensei shows Noé's left eye.

I think I already established that Noé's left eye is weird, so let's move on. If you encountered my prior post, I assumed that Luna and Noé are twins. Let's ignore that notion. For now, I will settle with the idea that the blue vampire and Noé are related. They could be siblings, parent-child, or kinsmen. I'll believe that Noé is related to the blue moon vampire until Mochijun-Sensei says otherwise.

So, I emphasized Noe's hidden eye a moment ago. Who else out there that we don't see her left eye? Yup, the vampire of the blue moon. (I already mentioned this on my previous post)

This is not related but look at these panels:

After hearing human Vani's childhood story, Noé and Luna both asked the question about hating the vampires. Take note that Luna is on the right, the eye that was she's not hiding. Noé on the left profile, the hidden eye at times. I don't know if there's a meaning in this or what, it's just interesting.

Going Back,

If Noé is related to the blue vampire and the cursed book. (I think Grandpa DeSade won't ask him to observe the book without reason, he possibly be the real owner). Maybe at some point, his eyes are blue. Or maybe one of his eyes is blue. The left eye, perhaps?

So far, we only saw Noé gazing at the blue moon in the first chapter.

Left profile, left eye, interesting. (I'll say this again and again, Sensei is shady. Even that smile)

Well, it's his right eye. However, it's his left that noticed the moon first.

Next...

The whole sentence is "and see for yourself with your own eyes..." Is it just a coincidence that the panel with the words "with your own eyes" was a close-up of Noé's left eye? (He's still looking up the blue moon here)

Now, assuming that his eyes are blue before. What happened? As I said earlier, maybe he lost the power of his left eye or just transferred it to someone. Is there someone heterochromatic that is always with Noé? Oh, yes, Murr.

So, in a nutshell: What if Noé has the power of a blue and red moon vampire before the series' timeline started? (He's kind of special since it would only show when he's using his vampiric powers) Then, something terrible happened that we don't yet. And they had no choice but to transfer that power to Murr?

At one point, I imagined that Noé and Murr exchanged eyes, but dismissed it since I thought that Murr's eyes are red. But now that I changed my mind about Murr's eye color, I think this could still be a possibility.

I'll leave it up to your imagination as to how everything happened. This is just a half-boiled theory I had that needs to get out of my mind. I'll try to expound it furthermore when I found out more (or maybe I would already change my mind)

This scene would negate my thousand words post entirely. Because the injury Noé had is shown when he met Sensei for the first time. This means he should still be heterochromatic here. The old man knows that he's a vampire. So, it's either, Noé told them, or the couple saw his vampiric characteristics. They would tell Noé that his eyes was strange, right? But it looks like had no idea at all.

(I'll just copy and paste from my previous post)

I believe that Mochijun-sensei is keeping the timeline vague since it would reveal too much information. I mean, we don't know how long time passed from the day Noé was found by the old couple to the day Sensei brought him to the castle in the forest. Keep in mind that the vampire's growth differs for each person, as well. Also, is the story the Noé and Sensei told trustworthy? As far as I could tell, Sensei is shady, like really. Besides, Noé's memory is also not reliable. After all, someone out there may have the ability to manipulate memories. What if Noé was was born ages ago and was induced to sleep for a long time for whatever reasons?

(Copy Paste ends here)

I really love Noé and Murr. You see, the title of the series is The Case Study of Vanitas, but I'm more curious about Noé. My guts tell me that he would unexpectedly surprise us in the future chapters. Do you have any ideas or thoughts you want to share about VnC? tell me, I'm so bad at digging gold here.

That's the end folks, I warned you this might not make any sense. I'm just a person who has a lot of time on hand got bored waiting for the next chapter. Still, I had fun writing this. It's entertaining to crack our heads with the possibilities of what would happen in the story. But remember to always respect the authors. It's their work and art.

Note: I wrote this to indulge my over-thinking self. This is just a random theory, thoughts, assumptions, and/or head-canons. Thank you for taking the time to read and understanding if I made any mistakes or post whatever it is you don’t agree on.

#thoughts about vnc panels

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nothing-but-dreamy · 4 years ago

Text

QUARANTINE

Pairing: FFXV!NYX ULRIC x MALE!READER

Words: 2.140

Warnings: fluff

A/N: @slowkib - here you go :) I hope you like it. Thanks for this request

A/N II: This is a loosely sequel to MESSAGES. So, if you wanna know how these two have met, you can catch up on it but it's not necessary :)

Synopsis: Yn got hit by a virus what means he and Nyx have to be quarantined. But Nyx finds a way to 'sweeten' the time for YN to recover quickly.

Nyx and YN were dating for a few months and so, YN’s sister was determined to meet the man who had stolen her brother’s heart like a thief with the promise to never give it back. She stayed over the weekend. Two whole days, all three had a lot of fun together. YN was happy to see how good Nyx and his sister got along and all too fast, the time was over again and YN’s sister had to go back home.

While Nyx cleaned up a few plates and glasses, he looked at YN who had a content smile on his lips even if he seemed to be a bit pale, “Your sister is nice. I like her.”

“I'm happy to hear that because she already loves you. She threatened me to treat you right or else she would ... Well… trust me, I wouldn't have a good life anymore.”, YN said and coughed softly.

Nyx blinked several times, staring at YN, disbelieving that his boyfriend, a skilled fighter and great soldier of the royal Kingsglaive, would be intimidated by his sister who was two heads shorter than he was, "You... She can threaten you? I mean, for real?", Nyx asked amused.

"Always had, always will. She might be younger and smaller than me but she can be a beast if she wants.", YN answered with a grin, remembering what kind of troublemaker she had been in their childhood.

"Good to know.", Nyx said grinning.

"Don't you dare to-", but YN stopped as a coughing attack prevented him from speaking further.

Concerned, Nyx laid his hand on YN’s shoulder, checking on him as he became even paler, "Are you alright?"

YN just waved with his hand, "Yeah, yeah", he said hoarsely, slapping against his chest, "I just choked on something.", he whispered.

But the next day, YN laid in bed, coughing violently and fighting with the full aftermath of the virus that held Insomnia in its iron grip for a few months. Obviously, without knowing it, YN's sister had been infected and now, he was the one with all the symptoms: fever, fatigue, muscle aches, headache, sore throat and nausea saying, the whole package.

While caring as best as he could for a suffering YN, Nyx did what the citizens were encouraged to do: he called a doctor, YN got tested and the result was clear: positive.

Nyx was tested negative but still, because they lived together, they had to be both quarantined for two weeks. As the next step, Nyx had to inform their Captain. Drautos wasn't pleased about the information that two of his men were out of service because of some ‘common cold’. As the Captain asked why they had to be both in quarantine, Nyx saw himself forced to tell the truth and revealed the relationship he had with YN. But, somehow, Nyx got the impression that the relationship itself wasn't the biggest problem rather the fact that the Captain had been completely unaware about it during the last months.

But because the Captain still wanted to have the upper hand like always, he sent Nyx and YN a big pile of documents and paperwork that got postponed because of the last battles. Nyx wasn't pleased about the boring 'office' work but as long as he and YN were quarantined, there was no way Nyx could say anything against it … or run away from it to fight a small, cozy fight against some demons which he would prefer more in this moment.

Luckily, YN recovered quickly and so, after one week, he was almost the old one. Almost. He was still a bit tired, was coughing and needed to rest but at least, he was fit enough to help Nyx a little bit with the paperwork. Especially, YN did it to prevent a raging war inside their apartment. While YN had been forced to stay in bed, he already had heard Nyx cursing while working.

First YN thought Nyx was just annoyed about the work itself but then, one afternoon as they sat together to work through the piles of documents, YN realized that Nyx wasn't just 'annoyed' rather, he was frustrated and even kinda aggressive.

"This stupid thing!", Nyx called out while pressing keys randomly on his PC.

YN raised his glance questioningly from his own PC and papers to look at the hero, who obviously got defeated by a bunch of wires and circuit pressed into a plastic case, "Everything's good over there?" he asked, grinning as Nyx slammed his whole hand on all keys he could find at the same time.

"Sure! Fuc- it works pretty wonderful!", he hissed through gritted teeth. Once again, Nyx pressed a bunch of keys he had no idea of their functions. As the PC finally just gave up and shutted down, Nyx leant back in his chair, pinching the bridge of his nose with closed eyes while sighing deeply, completely defeated.

YN tried his hardest to keep the grin out of his face but it wasn't working. Nyx heard the muffled sound of suppressed laughter and the moment he looked slowly up, his beloved boyfriend burst out with laughter. Even tears of joy were running down his cheeks.

Nyx gritted his teeth, "Good to see that you’re feeling better again. At least one of us has fun here.", he said annoyedly, standing up from the chair to look out of the window to become calmer again. It was cold, raining and all in all not the worst weather to be forced to stay inside.

YN felt guilty for laughing. He hurried over to Nyx and from behind, he snaked his arms around Nyx' waist, pressing a soft kiss on the outer rim of Nyx' ear, one of his weak spots, "Come on. Don't be like that. I didn't mean to laugh at you. It was just ... you fight against demons and whatsoever and then, you get defeated by a PC? Seriously?", YN chuckled.

Nyx scoffed, "I tell you, this thing has a will on its own. And it's mocking me. Besides, we're Glaives. We fight. We don't do 'paperwork'.", he said, quoting the Captain's words in a silly voice.

"So, what? You wanna disobey and ignore the Captain's order? Again?", YN asked amused, knowing how rebellious Nyx could be from time to time.

Nyx grinned, turning around in YN's arms and lying his own around his neck, glad that YN already had some color back in his face, "What shall he do? We're in quarantine. We're not allowed to leave this place or to invite someone in ... at all.", he said with a low voice.

YN raised an eyebrow, knowing this kind of mischievous glance already from the hero, "You have something in mind then?"

"Oh, yes. Indeed, I have.", Nyx nodded with a grin.

Ten minutes later, Nyx had collected everything he needed while YN just had watched him, sitting in an armchair. Nyx had prohibited him to do anything else than just waiting because even if YN felt better he was still stricken. On the other hand, Nyx wanted to have his idea as a small surprise. So, he collected all the pillows and blankets he could find and threw them into the living room which was quickly turned upside down. Nyx took some chairs, arranged them with the couch and had built something that represented a cozy fort. The couch was the fort's backrest. Chairs left and right were holding up the blankets while the carpet was covered with pillows and bed covers to make it even more comfy. As Nyx was done, he stepped next to YN, lying an arm around his shoulders, "What do you say?"

"That looks pretty perfect. You have done that before, don't you?", YN asked and looked up. There was already a melancholic smile on Nyx' lips.

"Yeah, I did this often with Selena. Mostly, when she was feeling sad or when she was sick. Then, I built one of these, stole some ice cream and cookies from the kitchen and then, we hid there the whole day. We were talking or watching TV until we fell asleep.", Nyx remembered, pulling YN closer to his side before he pressed a soft kiss on his boyfriend's crown while inhaling his scent to feed the painful memories with sweet new fuel to make them comfortable again.

YN enjoyed the affection with closed eyes, "So, you stole ice cream, huh?", he asked softly to light Nyx' mood up again. He was happy that it worked as he heard him chuckling.

"Well, stealing would mean no one knew about it. I'm sure our mother knew it. I mean, back then, as a kid, I felt pretty smart but now, I know that someone had to buy the things, so I'm sure she knew when we would build our little cave and prepared the sweets for us."

YN frowned. Everything was perfect except the fact that they had no sweets in the kitchen, "Shall we order-", but he got stopped as someone knocked at the door.

"Not necessary. I already took care of that, too.", Nyx said with a grin and went to the front door, opened it and came back with a paper bag full of stuff Crowe had brought after Nyx had texted her.

"What's that?", YN asked curiously, closing up on Nyx.

"Everything we need to get you back on track.", Nyx said grinning.

"But I'm already feeling better.", YN argued half-heartedly as he saw the colorful labels of the bag's contents.

"Yes, but 'better' is still not completely recovered. So, here, the ice cream will help you with your sore throat. Cookies are great in warm milk with honey to fight against the temperature of your fever. And the chocolate will just make you happy.", Nyx listed while pointing at the different items.

"And the gummi bears? Are they for my running nose?", YN asked chuckling, pulling out the bag of sweets.

Nyx snatched it out of YN's hand, "Oh, these are for me. At last, I need something to throw at you when you say stupid things again. Gummi bears for a running nose... never heard such a silly thing.", Nyx mumbled while rolling with his eyes and bringing the bag in the kitchen.

YN laughed, took his laptop and crawled into the pillow fort to get comfortable already while waiting for Nyx to come back.

Ten minutes later, Nyx appeared with a tablet which was laden with bowls full of ice cream, sweets and two mugs with warm milk. YN received the tablet, placing it in the middle. Nyx crawled next to YN's side before he closed the door made out of a blanket to enclose them with coziness. Pressing on a switch, a chain of light went on which was installed around the chair and illuminated the fort in a soft warm, romantically light. Nyx leant against the couch with his back, raised his arm to give YN the space to cuddle against him, using Nyx' upper body as a pillow.

YN was just about to start the movie he had picked out on Netflix as Nyx got a call on the headset he had still in his ear out of habit. Cursing under his breath, he answered the call, "Yeah? Hey, Captain. Yes, we're still in quarantine. One more week, that’s correct, Sir. Yes, he's feeling better but he's still not recovered completely. He still has to rest.", Nyx answered the Captain's questions. To underline Nyx' statement, YN coughed slightly.

Nyx had difficulties to keep the amusement out of his voice and nudged YN's side in revenge because the coughing was so badly acted, "What did you say, Sir? Oh, yeah, the paperwork. We're working on it. Yes, at this very moment, we're sitting in the living room and looking at the screen. Yes, Sir. Alright. Good da- huh, he hung up already.", Nyx said with a smirk, taking the headset out of his ear to lay it aside where he wouldn't notice it at all for the rest of the day.

"You lied to the Captain.", YN stated with a smirk.

Nyx looked him in the eyes while shaking his head, "No, I said the truth. We're in the living room, looking at some screen. The paperwork can wait. First, I want to make sure that you're fit again.", he breathed before he kissed YN softly, "And now, we should hurry with the ice cream or we will have just soup left."

"You could put some gummi bears into it to keep the consistency- hey!", YN called out as a gummi bear hit his hand.

"I warned you.", Nyx said grinning before YN cuddled back against Nyx' side, the best place in the world to recover from whatever virus there might ever be.

#nyx ulric x male reader #ff15 nyx ulric #final fantasy nyx ulric #kingsglaive nyx #nyx ulric x reader #nyx ulric #male reader #final fantasy xv #final fantasy kingsglaive

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wendystales · 4 years ago

Text

Memories -lrh (Chapter Two)

Memories (also on Wattpad)

Chapter One ※※※※※ Chapter Three

I open my eyes having my vision blur for a little. I blink a few times, getting a better look at the room I was in. Room? It was very bright, I look at the window and guess it must be around seven in the morning.

I glance around the room, seeing my mother lying on a two-seater sofa. I see my broken arm and the heart monitor wires attached to my chest.

“What the...?” I let the confusion in my voice die, for my dry throat. I see no cell phone near me to confirm the time or date, how long have I slept? I carefully seat down on the bed, so as not to hurt my arm, and call my mother, who doesn't hear me at first, making me raise my voice more, scratching my throat.

She gets up startled and, as soon as she sees me awake, comes quickly to my side. Her hands quickly grasp my face and she distributes several kisses across my cheeks.

“Thank God, you're awake! How are you? Do you need anything?” the bombardment of questions leaves me lost. “ I'll call the nurse.” she leaves the room before I can say anything.

God, I just wanted a glass of water and to understand what happened.

She returned with a nurse who came in smiling sympathetically. My mother held my hand, reassuring and comforting me.

“Hello, Miss McGonagall. I'm glad you're awake. How are you feeling?” she asks as she writes something down on her clipboard.

“Thirsty.” I announce, desperate for a glass of water.

“Oh, of course!” my mother takes a bottle of water from the small table next to the sofa and helps me to take a sip. Finally.

I turn my attention back to the nurse, now more relieved by the water.

“I am fine. A little sleepy and confused. And my arm is sore.”

“That's normal.” she continues writing down some things and fiddling with the equipment. I decide to end the mystery.

“I suffered a car accident, didn't I?” I ask, alternating my gaze between my mother and the nurse, who both look relieved.

“Yes, a drunk driver drove through the traffic light and crashed into your car. You only broke your arm and twisted your foot, besides some bruises.” the nurse explains, killing my curiosity.

Car accident. I remember being in the car, stopped at the light, but I don't remember the impact. Thank God I had survived and without many sequels.

“We thought that you might also have suffered a lost of memory, but that apparently wasn't the case.” my mother had a huge smile on her face.

“Still, we need to ask you some questions.” I turn my attention back to the nurse. “What is your full name?”

“Marnie Elizabeth McGonagall.” I answer immediately.

“Your birthday date?”

“October 17th, 1996.” I answer after thinking for a few seconds. Their smiles widen with each answer.

“How old are you then?”

“Twenty years old.” that's when the smile disappeared, but they didn't say anything.

“You slept for two days. What day is it today?” she asked attentively.

“Two days... I think today is day six.”

“What month and what year, dear?” This time, my mother asks the question.

“March 2017.” I arch my eyebrows, as if it were obvious. But from the look on their faces, I was wrong. I stare at my mother, seeing her with teary eyes.

“Mrs. Williams, please wait outside. I will pass the information to the doctor so that you can talk.”

I see my mother leave crying and get desperate. What is happening?

“Did I lose my memory?” I ask fearfully.

“We don't know yet. You just woke up, we need to take some time and see what happens. You will probably be going through some tests in a few minutes, so you need to be fasting still. After that I'll call a nurse to help you take a shower.”

She leaves and I find myself alone. Now more awake and aware, I notice near the window some vases of flowers, cards, and two happy-face balloons. I smile, feeling comforted by the affection.

A few minutes later, a nurse came in, taking me to the examination. It would be an MRI scan to see which areas of my brain were affected. I feel completely sick; what if I really had lost my memory? How many years have I lost?

However, before the examination, I would take a blood sample. So I went into a room and they sat me down in a very comfortable armchair. I hate blood test, just the sight of the needle makes me want to throw up. When this torturous part was over, they asked me if I preferred to go through the procedure sedated and I said no, I may not like to be in closed places, but to be pierced again is just too much.

I lay down on the gurney and they fixed me up with headphones so the noise wouldn't bother me, a blanket because it was so cold, and they put something like a mask over my head, only taller, like a cap, but hollowed out. At the same moment that the stretcher starts going into that hole, I close my eyes.

The procedure lasted about 30 minutes, and during this time I tried to stay calm and remember as many things as possible. Soon after, I was taken back to the room, finding my mother there with a nurse who would help me take a shower, it was what I wanted most.

I open my eyes and feel my body freeze when I see my image in the mirror. Not only because of the scratches, but also because my hair was short and lighter at the ends, I looked like a different person.

Another surprise, was when I saw a tattoo in the middle of my chest, taking the valley of my breasts and going all the way down to the bottom of them.

“Did you let me do this?” I ask my mother, while the nurse washes my hair.

“Marnie, you don't live with me anymore, you are an adult who pays your own bills and has your own life. You don't ask my permission for nothing else.” she laughs at my shocked face. I don't remember my job, or my apartment, I must have forgotten it for many years.

Her cell phone rings and she leaves the bathroom. The nurse continues to teach me how to take care of the cast. I take advantage of the moment alone and investigate my time in the hospital.

“Have many people come to visit me?” I ask as she begins to comb my hair.

“A lot!” she smiles sympathetically. “Yours friends came at all visiting hours and brought lots of balloons and teddy bears. The head nurse sent them home with half of them.” she recalls laughing. I didn't know I had so many friends besides Bethany.

“Did my boyfriend come?” I ask anxiously, after all, I was on my way to see him.

“It was hard to get him to leave. He spent the first 24 hours here, slept in the hallway and everything. You're a lucky girl.” she blinks at me. I feel my heart race. I just want to see him!

Again, I go back to the room and this time I stay. A breakfast arrived and I was starving.

“Porridge?” I ask disappointedly as I see the tray.

“You've been unconscious for two days, you can't want to eat a mountain of pancakes, you have to start slowly.” mom warns.

We’re both in the room, and it’s an awkward, tense silence. I could see a look of relief on my mother's face to see me awake, but deep inside, there was a glint of discomfort. I conclude that this is why she is avoiding looking at me. I finished my coffee against my will and straightened up, in order to get some answers.

“Have I really lost my memory?” I ask in a clear and direct manner. She looks at me with a mixture of indecision and weariness.

“I don't know, dear.” she moves closer to the bed, caressing my face. “You have a wrong date in your head, but the chance of it being temporary is huge, so stay calm and let's wait for the test results. Now, get some rest.” she gives me a kiss on the forehead before leaving the room.

I end up falling asleep after a few minutes of watching TV. I wake up to another nurse calling me, my results are out, and the doctor wanted to talk. She passes me to a wheelchair and takes me to the doctor's office. When the door opens, I see my mother with her eyes red, the doctor with a gentle smile and Luke Hemmings looking at me in affliction.

I don't hide my confusion. Luke Hemmings?! What a famous guy is doing here?!

“Is he the one who hit my car?” I ask readily, I wouldn't be surprised, these famous people drink and think the world is theirs.

Luke clenched his jaw and his gaze seemed lifeless, he was completely uncomfortable. I bet he didn't like the truth. I ignore his unnecessary presence and turn my attention back to the doctor.

“No, Miss McGonagall. I believe Mr. Hemmings is a very close friend.” I can see that the doctor is careful with his words.

Close?

When I look back at him, I see him hugging my mother on the side, who is struggling to hold back her tears.

“What?” I let out in a whisper, alternating my gaze between them and the doctor.

“Miss McGonagall, you suffered a car accident two days ago.” he begins.

“Yes, I suffered it.” I state.

“And as sequels, you broke an arm, twisted a foot, and, unfortunately, lost part of your memory.”

It was like a bomb falling on me. I had no protection or counterattack. The suspicion had evolved into truth, and now, I had nothing to do but feel angry and out of control of my own life.

“But I talked about it being a car accident, before anyone told me. I remember being in the car, I don't remember the impact, but I remember being in the car.” I try to find a way out.

“What were you going to do?” he asks curiously. I force my mind and remember.

“I was going to see my boyfriend.” before the doctor could say anything, a different hopeful voice steals my attention and I see Luke letting go of my mother, approaching both of us.

“ It's true!” He looks at the doctor. How does he know it's true? He doesn't even know me! “We were supposed to meet for lunch.”

What?! Where did this guy come from and how does he have the courage to say something like that? I look behind my mother for help, but she is focused on Luke and the doctor.

“We? I don't know you.” My voice comes out desperate, I was already losing patience with him.

“Marnie, what's your boyfriend's name?” Luke leans one hand on the table and one on my chair, and asks me in a desperate tone, as if his life depends on my answer.

I look deep into his blue eyes, annoyed that he is getting in the middle of my life. I fill my mouth and reply.

“Stephen Maynard! My boyfriend's name is Stephen Maynard.” I raise my eyebrows as if to say ‘happy?’

His jaw locked again, and his eyes watered. He bit his lower lip and left the room, slamming the door.

“What is his problem?” I'll ask my mother and the doctor.

“ I'll go see if he's all right.” mom leaves the room and I stay with the doctor, who doesn't seem to care much about everything that has happened.

“Miss McGonagall, you suffered a car accident two days ago and were unconscious during that time. I know it may be difficult to accept that you have lost some of your memory, but unfortunately that is what happened. Your brain deleted the last three years and maybe even an older part, we have no way of knowing yet. The point is that this amnesia can be momentary and perhaps today you will remember everything, or it can last longer.” he explains calmly.

“Could it last forever?” I ask fearfully.

It was strange to think that I don't remember three years of my life, no matter how hard I try, nothing comes to my mind. I became agonized and curious to know what I was forgetting. I didn't want to do any tests, I wanted to talk to my mom and dad, see Bethany, my best friend and gossip, I wanted to see Stephen, where is he when I need him? The nurse said he didn't leave my side.

The door opens and my mom walks in again, her eyes are still red, but she seems a little more calm. She sits down next to me and holds my hand.

“Yes, it can be permanent, so you shouldn't force anything. After discharge you will go back to your normal routine and maybe something will be a point to remember everything, or at least half of it. These amnesias are often just traumatic and take you back to other traumatic times, like they want to spare you from something.”

“These last three years have been a lot of change for you, dear, that makes total sense. You said you were going to see Stephen, remember for what?” she asks curiously.

“Our anniversary. I was going to drop off his present and celebrate. Where is he anyway? The nurse said he hasn't left my side. Even an annoying celebrity is here!”

“ I'll let you two talk for a while, I think we owe it to Miss McGonagall.” the doctor interrupts before my mother replies. “But, remember, miss, without forcing anything, you'll have plenty of time to find out everything. Excuse me.” he leaves the room, leaving us alone.

“Well?” I ask my mother, who looked totally uncomfortable.

“Honey, on that day that you remember, that last memory, you found Stephen with Bethany, how can I put it? In a not good situation. You broke up.”

I always knew that my parents didn't like Stephen, thought he was a bad influence, but to say that he cheated on me with my best friend bordered on the ridiculous.

“Mom…”

“I swear it's true, I know it hurts, and it really hurt to see you go through this. But honey, you overcame it, you overcame everything and you found a wonderful man who loves you, appreciates you, respects you and cares for you.”

“Such an amazing man who is not here.” I raise my free arm, supporting my argument, showing that only the two of us are in the room.

“My love, he is here, he has been here all the time, he only left last night because everyone insisted.” the look she gives me, wanting me to put all the pieces together makes my stomach turn.

“No!” I laugh, unbelieving what I was imagining, "Luke can't be my boyfriend.”

“Why not?” my mother's displeased tone surprises me, does she approve of him?

“I don't even know him. He's famous and I'm not. Where would we meet?” the pieces just don't fit together.

“Your life has changed a lot, dear, to the point that you meet him and his friends. To the point that you could afford this hospital.” really, my family couldn't afford a private room and all the tests that I would have to do. “Marnie, you have become a model.” I can imagine a bomb exploding in my head.

“That's a lot of information!”I cover my face, trying to take it all in.

“I'm sorry, honey, if I could only pass this whole situation to myself and let you off the hook.” she squeezes my thigh.

“I know, it's just so agonizing not remembering. I mean, did I yell at my 'boyfriend' and tell him I was with another guy? Another who in my mind is still my current one and who I still have feelings for?” I let out a desperate breath. I dry my tears, angry with myself and with the drunk who hit my car.

“Honey, it is only the first hours, calmly, we will tell you everything and you will get used to it, who knows, maybe remembering until everything is in place or close to it? It's not your fault, it's just a consequence! Everything will be fine, I promise you.” she hugs me and I allow myself to cry, her hand caressing my hair, giving me peace. “What matters is that you are alive.”

“What day is it today?” I ask after a few seconds.

“June 13th, 2020.” I feel the second bomb explode, it's very weird.

“Do you and dad like him?” I ask, curious.

“Very much, it was your best choice.” she smiles.

“And Dad, where is he?” her expression becomes distressed.

“Hm, he had to take a trip right on the day of the accident, but he is already trying to get back.”

Three years! That's what I had lost. Apparently my boyfriend, or rather ex-boyfriend, had cheated on me and I was with a world-famous and beloved guy, of whom I knew nothing but his name and that he was in a band, which had the underpants song.

I went back to the room and spent much of the afternoon trying to assimilate everything. I needed more information, to talk to more people. Deep down, I wanted to believe that this was a big theater, but I know that it is impossible. Unfortunately, I have lost my memory and my hands are tied trying to fit everything in and remember something.

The door opened and unlike what I had imagined, Luke came in holding a bouquet of gerberas and a box with a purple bow. He didn't expect me to be awake, and I didn't expect to be alone with him so soon.

“Sorry, I didn't know you were awake.” he says clumsily and a little lost, not knowing what to do with the box and the flowers.

“No problem, you can pretend I'm asleep, I don't want to disturb you.” he nods and I watch his movements.

I watch him exchange the yellow roses in the vase for the gerberas, my favorite flowers, and notice him collecting the cards and giving them in my direction.

“I believe you are very curious to read them.” he won't come close and I feel bad for that, he must hate me.

“Thank you.” I give my best smile, trying to smooth things over. Luke continues to hold the box, not knowing what to do.

“Hm, this... this little box, it's for you!” he extends the box, still away from the bed. ”Your old cell phone broke in the accident, and I bought this new one. Leah and I have already backed it up, it has all the information from the old one.”

“Leah?” I can' t help but question, as I open the little box and look at the brand new cell phone.

“Uh, yes, your best friend, the current one!” He is standing at the foot of the bed and avoids looking at me.

“I don't know the password.” I say as the screen lights up.

Luke approaches, still hesitant, and positions himself beside me. He unlocks the screen and starts to show me where everything is, pictures, videos, messages and contacts. I stop for a moment and pay attention to him, while he is still talking.

With his face very close, I smell his perfume and I like the smell. I notice his long, very light hair, a beard showing signs all over his chin and jaw. Luke is handsome, I'm not impressed that I had a crush on him, but why did he have a crush on me?

I notice that he notices me staring at him, and, before he turns around, I turn my gaze to the cell phone. I feel him analyzing me, maybe trying to find the girl he loved inside me.

I take courage and stare back at him, my heart racing and my stomach churning, but not from happiness or anxiety of wanting something to happen, but from wanting nothing to happen. Even though he was a handsome and caring guy, I couldn't feel something for Luke, at least not before I worked things out with Stephen.

“Sorry about earlier today.” I whisper, not amused by my behavior.

“No need to apologize. You're just going through a very big shock.” He reassures me.

“Still, I want you to know that I'm not like that.” Luke looks at me with a raised eyebrow. “But you already know, of course.” I cover my eyes, wanting to die. Luke lets out a laugh that makes me laugh along with him.

“I know it will be difficult, but I don't mind hearing you tell me all about you again.” I can't sustain the look, it intimidates me. “By the way…” he turns away and goes to a backpack on the sofa and pulls out a book. “I brought it so you would have something to read. You read it last year and said it was so good you wish you could forget to read it again.” as soon as Luke finishes speaking, I can't stand his choice of words and start laughing and he seems to notice, becoming embarrassed.

“That's fine, thank you very much.” I oblige and allow myself to lift my body, giving him a kiss on the cheek.

He turns more red and sits down on the couch, leaving me with my presents. I glance over the novel, reading the synopsis that catches my attention, ‘When It Happens’. I grab my cell phone and go into my social medias, startling myself by seeing my insta full of pictures in Italy, clothing campaigns and some pictures with him. I look up to Luke, who is wearing glasses and reading a book.

It’s strange not to be attracted to him, but to feel peace, as if everything is right. I’m sorry that I don't remember him, since he seemed like such an amazing guy and so kind to me. My mind comes up with a huge list of questions I want to ask him. How did we meet? How long have we been together? Do we fight a lot? But at the same time that I am insanely curious to talk to my boyfriend, his presence intimidates me; after all, he is a famous guy. Faced with this, I keep quiet.

I turn my attention to the thousands of cards on my lap, reading one by one. Many texts wishing me better, saying that if I woke up some would cut the hair, or change the color, among other promises. Leah, Calum, Ashton, Kyleen, Noah, Michael; so many names, but none that I feel familiar with. I need to see Stephen.

“Could you check with the nurse for something I can eat?” I ask timidly, not wanting to get in his way. However, Luke quickly gets up and provides my order.

I take advantage of the moment alone and dial the number I still remembered, after three rings Stephen's voice comes on and for the first time in hours, I feel in control of the situation.

“Hi, it's Marnie!” I feel my heart racing so fast I think about the possibility that I'm going to throw up.

“Wow, this is a call I never thought I would get again.” I don't answer because I feel bad, apparently the ending wasn't good at all. “To what do I owe the honor?”

“Hm.” I clear my throat. “I need to see you, to talk, actually. I don't know if you know, but I was in an accident recently.”

“Yes, I read about it.”

“So, the problem is that I lost part of my memory and, well, the last thing I remember is that I was on my way to your house, to celebrate our anniversary.”

“What anniversary?” his voice is curious and cautious.

“The one in 2017.” the line becomes dead silent and I don't wait for an answer. “Look, I am really lost and I need to talk to you and understand everything.”

“Are you sure your parents and your amazing boyfriend haven't already told you everything?” the mocking tone annoys me a little.

“Honestly? I didn't really believe what my mom told me. Would you mind coming to the hospital early tomorrow morning? I'll probably be discharged in the afternoon and well, I know some people won't be happy to see you here.”

“No problem, it would be an honor to tell you the truth. See you tomorrow, Lizzie.”

The affectionate nickname he always used for me makes my stomach turn. Stephen never liked my name and the fact that he didn't know how to make a nickname out of it, so he called me Lizzie.

I don't know if I did the right thing by calling Stephen, but I need answers and to understand everything that had happened between us, until I came into Luke's arms.

Luke...

Where did we bump into each other and intertwine? He is a famous guy, has great friends, could date any famous girl, a fan, someone who knows him well and wants him, why me? The thoughts drown me as I look at another picture of us on his profile.

“Sorry for the long delay, my mom called, she wanted to hear from you.” Luke's cheeks are flushed and the glasses that used to occupy his face are now hanging from the collar of his shirt. “The nurse will bring some soup in a moment.” I wrinkle my nose and mouth. I don’t like soup. “I know, but that's what the doctor ordered.”

It scares me how he knows me and how I know nothing about him, other than that he sings the underwear song and that he sang with One Direction.

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cruelfeline · 5 years ago

Text

All right. So, this corner of the fandom has been in a bit of an uproar after Stevenson had her stream; and while I’m of the mind that anything said outside of the actual show, without any real canon backing, can be safely ignored, I do want to address one odd statement I’ve heard talked about.

Essentially: the idea that Hordak would have pulled the portal lever at the end of season three.

Now, I will confess that I haven’t actually watched the stream itself; I’m getting this from the ripples of discontent in the Entrapdak and Hordak tags. I also don’t really plan on viewing the stream... it’s like, what, four hours long? Mm. No, thank you.

But! My goal here isn’t to address or debunk or pick apart Stevenson’s words, specifically; my goal is to simply address the question: would Hordak have activated the portal? Because it’s an interesting question, no matter what was said on-stream! And because I’ve had a few people express interest in hearing a take. So: ask, and ye shall receive!

Now, we’re going to look at this in two different circumstances: Hordak pulling the lever while still believing Entrapta to have betrayed him, and him pulling the lever in an AU situation, where Entrapta returned to him and warned him of the danger. Ready? Onward!

We’ll tackle the “betrayal” scenario first. Would Hordak have pulled the lever in the situation as portrayed in canon, believing that Entrapta had betrayed and abandoned him? Assuming, of course, that Catra hadn’t pulled it first.

Mm... I think he probably would. But, in my opinion, not necessarily in that moment.

In this scenario, Hordak doesn’t have any reason not to pull the lever: no one has told him that it is dangerous. No one has warned him that it is going to unravel reality and kill them all unless a very specific sort of heroic sacrifice is made. He has no idea that disaster awaits, and furthermore, with Entrapta a “traitor,” he has no reason to doubt returning to Prime. He has every reason to pull the lever, but as we watch the scene play out, it is clear that he isn’t particularly keen to do so right that second.

Catra tries to push him to do it, then and there. He reaches for the lever, but as the princesses rush in, he hesitates, retreats a bit, tries to fight. He’s not nearly as focused on the lever as Catra is.

I think that the reason for this is twofold. First, Hordak is not spite-fueled enough to pull the lever right that second the way Catra is. He wants to open the portal, of course, but it doesn’t have to be right then and there so that Adora can bear witness and be emotionally defeated. He wants to open it, but he also recognizes that his sanctum is under attack. I have the sense that he perhaps thinks it best to take care of the intruders and let everything settle back down before doing something as monumental as opening a portal and potentially entering into communications with Horde Prime. To put it simply: I think he would rather open the portal during more controlled circumstances.

Second, princess attack aside: I just don’t think that Hordak is in the best mindset to open the portal in this moment. He’s... he’s in actual emotional shock, I think. Oh, he puts on an angry front, of course, as he always does when he is distressed or upset in some way, but there’s no missing his look of dejection when Catra informs him of Entrapta’s apparent betrayal.

This is the woman he has worked with for the better part of a year. The woman he grew close to and fond of and trusted with not only scientific work, but with himself. And now he’s being told that she has essentially been using him this whole time, that she’s lied to and deceived him, and that she is responsible for this terrible attack in the place he’d always assumed was safest.

He’s hurt and stunned to the point of Catra having to pull him away from an imminent explosion. I doubt that this is the emotional state he wishes to have when opening a portal and potentially speaking with his Brother.

So, while I think that, in this scenario, Hordak would choose to open the portal, I don’t think he’d want to do it at this point in time. Contacting Prime just isn’t his main focus in this scene. His main focus is defending himself against the princesses and dealing with this devastating emotional blow.

Now, might he possibly open the portal during the battle, under duress, perhaps feeling it is a now-or-never moment? Yes, potentially. But I don’t think he’d be too happy about it. I think it would be a sort of last resort, if he really felt he had no other choice. Again, while I think that he’d ultimately open the portal in an “Entrapta betrayal” scenario, he would much prefer to do it in a calm, controlled setting with his enemies neutralized and his emotional wounds soothed.

So. With that scenario out of the way, let’s move on to the arguably more interesting one: would Hordak have opened the portal had Entrapta returned and informed him of the danger?

Well, friends and neighbors, I am not an authority on this character. I am not a writer. I have no special knowledge or insight. I only have my feelings and my opinion.

That opinion, however? That opinion is: no. Absolutely not.

The reasons for this are both emotional and logical.

Emotionally speaking, at this point in the story, Hordak already loves Entrapta. He allows her into his sanctum, allows her to come and go as she pleases, to work closely with him, to work on him. He risks his own life to save her from a failed portal test. He opens up to her about fears and vulnerabilities that are clearly difficult for him to talk about. He trusts her to the point that he allows her to make new armor for him, an action that, should this trust be misplaced, could lead to severe injury and death. He hears her “imperfection is beautiful” speech and is moved by it.

Furthermore, he clearly exhibits doubt regarding going through with the portal solely because it would mean leaving her. This is strongly suggested in season three, when Entrapta and Hordak both grow visibly uncomfortable at the thought of Hordak leaving to rejoin the galactic Horde. It is essentially confirmed in season four, when Prime’s hand hovers over the LUVD crystal’s empty socket while he observes that there had been a time when Hordak wished he would not come for him.

Hordak has deep emotional attachments to Entrapta by the end of season three. He is at the same level of attachment at this point as he is at the end of season five, when his love for her helps him break free of and kill Prime. Remember: after Entrapta is sent to Beast Island, they do not see one another again until season five. Their relationship development essentially stalls... but it stalls at a high point because they are already a bonded pair, a couple, at season three’s end. With this level of attachment and affection, it is hard to rationalize Hordak disregarding Entrapta’s sincere advice, let alone pulling a portal lever that could result in both her death and his. It just doesn’t quite follow, does it?

Even if he has some sort of doubt about the danger... why risk it? Why risk the life of the person he loves? He doesn’t do so when facing Prime in season five, when the stakes are so much higher, the need to obey so much greater... but he’d do it over the portal? Rather than just postponing the project (as both he and Entrapta appeared to be considering anyway)?

Hm.

To this emotional reasoning, one can add plain logic: Hordak respects Entrapta’s intelligence. He takes her advice regarding sparing Catra. He accepts her help while working on his portal device. He values her opinion and her skills. Before learning of her “betrayal,” he clearly revels in the fact that her hard work has brought their plans to fruition. He consistently acknowledges her abilities and her worth, emotional attachment or not. Even when he barely knows her, he notes that her “tinkering” increases the power of everything she touches. He never expresses any doubt in her talents.

To this sense of respect, one can add Hordak’s willingness to listen to others, even his subordinates. Hordak is shown, time and again, to be very open to accepting counsel: from Shadow Weaver, from Catra, and certainly from Entrapta. Even early on, in season one, when Entrapta is simply an acquaintance, he accepts her claim that the defeat at Bright Moon isn’t a failure, that her experiment was successful. Even then, he is willing to listen to her, to give her leeway in her work. Now, knowing the extent of her brilliance, he would ignore her, reject her? Why?

Why would he? What reason could he have to doubt her, when she is nearly always right and has demonstrated no ulterior motives? He, on his end, has never been bull-headed or reckless about things, never been one to ignore reasonable advice... so why start now? Especially since it is doubtful that Entrapta would ever recommend abandoning portal technology altogether; I would expect that her advice would be to simply postpone and reassess, to “keep working on it until it’s perfect.” Which... well, that seemed an amenable enough option for the both of them, before Catra’s interruption.

So.

I have to admit that I just don’t see it. I don’t see how, between his demonstrable love for her and his valuing and respecting her ability, Hordak would have disregarded Entrapta should she have managed to make it back to him to warn him of the portal’s dangers. Especially when listening to her wouldn’t necessarily mean abandoning the portal project; simply postponing it doesn’t seem like an unreasonable decision in the face of such severe risk.

I mean, I suppose one could argue that he just wouldn’t believe her, that Catra would somehow lie and make him doubt her... but I don’t see how he would believe Catra (a known liar) over Entrapta (honest to a fault, also his wife) if the two were side by side. Hordak is insecure. He is not stupid.

And after all, isn’t that the whole reason that Catra shocked Entrapta? Because she knew that Hordak would believe her and stop the portal? If that wasn’t the case, if Hordak would have gone ahead with it anyway... well, then that makes Catra’s actions even worse, doesn’t it? Takes all the logic out of them. Makes her subduing Entrapta and threatening Scorpia all the more senseless and cruel, if Hordak wouldn’t have believed Entrapta anyway. Kind of messes with her whole arc, doesn’t it? Makes her even more morally bankrupt. Hm.

So while I do think that Hordak would have eventually pulled the portal lever in Entrapta’s absence (though he’d prefer to do it in a more controlled setting), I just can’t see how or why he would have pulled it if Entrapta had actually reached him with her warning. I mean, I’m not one of the writers, obviously; I have no unique knowledge or insight into these characters, but from what I’ve seen in terms of canonical behavior and relationships? It just makes it hard for me to rationalize and believe that Hordak would disregard Entrapta in favor of such a reckless act.

It just doesn’t seem like him.

And again: I could be misinterpreting his character. That’s always possible. But if that’s the case, then I would need a significant explanation to make such an act make sense to me, rather than seeming like a bit of nonsensical character derailment. Because as things are right now, I just don’t see him doing it. For all of the reasons listed above.

And that, friends and neighbors, is the "would Hordak have pulled the lever" take. Hopefully some of y'all find it amusing!

#hordak #entrapta #entrapdak

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