#this is not getting into the issues surrounding the Maker being the only god they won't explain because HOO | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

primordialsquirrel · 4 years ago

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A/N: I fought tooth and nail for this prompt so I hope you like it anon 👀

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Dabi had left the Nightscape for several reasons.

For better scenery, for less screaming, for.. for a third reason, and to escape his crazy as fuck ex girlfriend who never seemed to get the point that they were done. She was a phase, she wasn’t the endgame.

Did she get that as he tossed her ass out of his apartment? No, she just came back with a lighter to set his home ablaze. But the woman didn't realize he controlled flames as easily as he did breathing.

So he left. He packed a few things, clothes and whatever currency the humans were using nowadays and went up to the world beyond. His father was one of the lords of the Nightscape, but he didn't need to worry about slipping past him, Dabi was thought to be dead for ages.

More like “Touya” had been dead for ages, but that was a clusterfuck of different issues he didn't care to unfold.

Living above ground had added perks beyond escaping a crazy ex and not being surrounded by shades and wraiths on the daily. He could take on the form of a true human, not the horned and fanged form he usually wore. His tail was gone, and his scars and staples were replaced with tattoos and piercings, but he grew used to his new form very quickly.

In the human world, humans had long since developed quirks, so his flames were not an oddity. He was thankful for them when he was questioned about how he got his scars, scars that would occasionally show through his glamour. It was an easy answer, his body couldn't handle his “quirk”. People gave him sad eyes and let him go.

Easy.

What he did struggle with was the occasional demon hunter nearly tracking him down, but he always managed to turn their eye the other way. Was it testing the line choosing to live so close to a school that trained demon hunters? Yes, but he was always good at magic, a simple glamour always did the trick.

When he scored a job at a coffee shop, he was pleased to see it was a simple transaction kind of job. No one would be able to ask him why his eyes were constantly rivaling the blue of his flames or why a phantom tail would lash out and occasionally spill the row of cups behind him.

He pegged it as a ghost haunting the shop, and so it became a little inside joke within the workers ranks and some of the shop's patrons.

Opening on a rainy Wednesday, he looks around the room before lighting the candles at the tables with a flame on his pinkie finger. Setting up the tables and scooting in the chairs, he walks back to the counter and sets up the machines when the door rings, signalling someone had entered.

“Welcome.” He rolls out in a soft purr, a habit from years of toying with his playthings as an incubus. Eventually he would get rid of the habit. “What can I get for you today?” He turns around.

You were soaking wet with a satchel above your head, you were shivering and looking at the coffee machines as if they were god sent.

You looked adorable.

He leans on the counter with a growing smile. “Wet out there isn't it?”

Your gaze snaps to him. Your eyes were a soft mahogany color, reminding him of a tree. It wasn't the most romantic thing he could come up with, but trees were also very rare to find in the Nightscape, so he supposed it was based on your point of view. “C-Coffee. Please.”

“Sure thing babe, what kind?”

“A mocha cappuccino with three shots of espresso.”

He quirks a brow as he types in your order. “Three?”

“I usually get five but my doctor told me I need to cut down.”

“How about you aim for two?”

“I don't think I’d survive that loss sir.”

He chuckles. “Sir?” He asks as he tells you the price of your drink, accepting your soggy wad of cash and giving you your change once the transaction was complete. “Well madam, your drink will be out shortly, take some napkins to dry up, they’re by the sugar.”

He spots a small blush on your face as you go to the condiments counter. “Thank you.”

“Of course.” He prepares your drink as he hears you pluck a plethora of napkins out of their container. Small curses are all he hears as you open your bag, he hears the clicking of latches and the zipping of zippers. You scuttle past the counter and stop in front of the register again.

“Do you have a bathroom? My bag is drenched..”

He brings you your drink and tilts his head as he debates your question. A bathroom wouldn't solve the water issue, you just thought it would.

Dabi places your drink on the counter and holds his hand out. “I can dry your bag.”

You smile, adjusting your glasses in the mean time. “You have a wind quirk?”

“I'm not a blowdryer.” He grins. “But I can still dry it for you.”

You debate his words, looking down at your soggy satchel that was only getting worse as time passed. You hand him the bag with an accepting sigh. “Please.”

He takes your bag and lights his hands on fire. You nearly scream before he speaks up. “I can control my fire, this one won’t burn anything, it's just warm.”

“Oh.” You shut your mouth with a sheepish bow of your head. “Sorry.”

“It's alright.” He turns the bag in his hold, looking at the patches and bad attempts at embroidery on its edges. It was cute. The sad little attempts seemed to get better as they reached the top, which led him to believe this was your first attempt at embroidery.

What would you do if he had burnt it to ash?

His flames were highly destructive, and sometimes even he couldn't handle them.

Maybe he was being risky to test his powers like this. It had been ages since he last used his flames for something more than lighting a silly candle or a cigarette.

“So..”

Oh right, you were still there.

He looks at you and rotates the bag in his hold. “Yes?”

“Is it always this empty?”

“Only when you're here.” He winks.

“Rude.”

“Rude, sir.”

You laugh, and from that point on he's hooked to the sound.

Dabi used to like his job, now it was turning into something akin to gratitude. It allowed him to see you on most days.

He had learned quite a few things about you ever since that rainy day.

You were a teacher in training, specifically the nearby high school. You were aiming for Shiketsu and had a foot in the door with the vice principal taking notice of you during their mock trials. He didn't peg you for a demon hunter, but everyone had a hidden side to them. Hah. You had two pet birds named Sweet Pea and Darlington, you had a snake named Petra and were looking into getting a newt.

You loved coffee but hated it black, it needed sugar or chocolate of some kind because you couldn't stand bitter food. You loved spicy food even if you couldn't tolerate it, and you adored sour candies.

While you looked book smart, you were also street smart, and he was beginning to believe you might be vying for a spot as a demon slayer teacher. He just didn't know what your quirk was yet.

“Hey Dabi.” You chime in unison with the doorbell as you walk inside, this time with an umbrella to keep yourself out of the rain.

He leans on the counter with a grin. “Hey babe. What is it today? The usual?”

“Just a shot of espresso this time.”

He narrows his eyes. “Are you sick?”

“Nope.” You fold your arms behind your back, rocking back and forth on your heels with a huge smile on your face. “I got news.”

“Do tell.” He says as he starts preparing your shot.

“I got the job!” You squeal in excitement, arms coming out of hiding so you can clasp them in front of you. “Starting in the spring I’m going to be the new first year homeroom teacher!”

He genuinely smiles. So you wanted to ruin your happiness with a shot of liquid bitter? He didn't understand you sometimes. “I thought your celebration drink would be a sakura latte, not a shot of espresso.”

You wave your hand dismissively, already removing your wallet from your pocket. “I'll come back for one.”

“Two visits in one day? Is that a gift for you or for me?” He chuckles and hands you your espresso, taking your yen and entering it into the register.

You adjust the glasses on your face. "I figured I would grace your presence because you've been so humble as to fuel my caffeine addiction."

"It's my duty to make sure you don't kill some other sorry bastard with a coffee maker."

Your eyes flash green for a split second, and in that moment he has to keep from reeling back. Did he really see that?

The cups behind him tumble to the ground.

His tail had appeared in his brief moment of shock.

You cock your head to the side. "What happened?"

He kneels and collects the cups. "The shop's ghost. Don't mind it."

"I thought I saw a-"

"How about I give you the latte now? On me." He interrupts you mid sentence, standing up with the cups in his arms.

The blush on your face was one of his favorite sights in the human world.

"You don't have to Dabi."

"It's just a drink." He waves you along to one of the booths. "Sit, it'll be ready soon."

You take your shot of espresso and go to the booth he had motioned you to.

The way you scrunched your nose in disgust as you drank your shot was also one of his new favorite sights.

Maybe it was just you.

After you had gotten your job at Shiketsu, you were around every morning to prepare for the day. Sometimes you would come by for lunch, unfortunately he clocked out on those days, but sometimes he would make sure he was in the area just to catch you off-guard. Those days he spent his lunch with you, and you got to tell him stories about your students.

It was one of your lunch breaks when hell came to toll.

His eyes were trained on you as you spoke, you were talking about a girl who wielded fire similar to him when the bell of the cafe rang.

The sound resonated through him, and in that moment he knew who was at the door.

What was at the door.

His glamour of his new human form nearly drops as he hears a woman's voice ask from the counter of the cafe.

“Is Dabi here?” She croons in a sickly sweet voice he hadn't heard in nearly a year. He doesn't hear his coworkers' response but he feels the air fill with the flowery scent of her. He grits his teeth to keep his fangs from showing through as he hears her heels click against the ground.

You had stopped your explanation and looked behind him, adjusting your glasses as you did so. “You're looking for Dabi?”

“I am, what a sweet peach you've got here Dabi~ I didn't know you still had it in you to snag such a cutie, your charms must still be working even in this sad form.” He feels her hand on his shoulder, her fingernails drumming along the stitching of his jacket. “Did you catch her, or did she come crawling to you?”

He knows he has to speak up, before she says another word, but his fangs were already piercing the inside of his lip as his glamour slipped.

He looks at you with the most apologetic gaze he can muster. Grabbing his coffee, he lifts it to his mouth to hide his fangs and he speaks. “Excuse me.” He stands up and slams the cup on the table, grabbing the wrist of the woman behind him and dragging her out of the shop and into the closest alleyway.

He slams her against the wall with her arm pinned above her head. His glamour drops completely, his scars and horns bared for the world to see as he growls with rage. “You!”

The succubus in front of him smiles coyly, dragging a finger across his scars and the staples holding his mouth together. “Aren't you happy to see me? To see one of your own again?”

“No. What do you want?”

She plays at pulling on one of the staples but is stopped as he pins her other hand up as well. The succubus sighs and turns her head, “I come see you and all I get is this. And seeing you with a little human.” She peers at him with violet eyes. “Don't tell me you've gone soft Dabi. She’s human, she’ll die just like a human too.”

He hadn't let that thought slip into his mind and wasn't planning on starting to. He tightens his grip on her wrists. “We broke up, I made that clear.” A feral grin forms on his face, pulling at the staples on his face. “I told you, if you try me again, I’ll kill you.”

“I heard you had a human now. We all heard.” She whispers, her eyes glowing in the dark of the alley. “They know Dabi.”

His grip falters.

Shit.

Shit. Shit Shit-

He lets go of her wrists and he paces in the alleyway, flames licking at his face as his emotions spiralled.

“They need your power, but you’re squandering it here with a girl who will die before you know it. While you're full of youth, she will be an old crone with nothing but a coffin awaiting her.” She didn't sound bothered at all as she rubs her wrists. “Honestly Dabi, you were the one that taught me never to fall for a human. They’re too brittle, their life essence too weak.”

He did teach her. He taught her to keep her heart shut and to leave it open only for him. He taught her a little too well, as she now believed she had rights to him.

But he never taught himself as well as he did her.

He fell for you bad, and you were mortal.

“Anyway, I was told one of two things. Either bring you back with me, or expose you so you have no other choice but to return.”

He looks back at her, his rage quelled only by the dread that was now spiralling in him. “You will do no such thing!” He roars, his flames igniting and setting him ablaze. “If you dare go near her-”

The succubus’s body transforms into mist starting from her feet then rising to her waist. She puts a finger to her lips. “I’ll be back in three days. If you don't do it, I will.”

She was gone. Leaving him alone in the alley with nothing but flames that wouldn't stop burning.

Dabi spent the next two days trying to find ways to tell you, but with each scenario came the same question.

What would you do if you knew he was a demon? You worked at a school that trained demon slayers- what other option for you would there be if not to turn him in? It was your duty to turn in any demon that showed up at your door, and here you were having coffee with him.

He couldn't do it.

On the third day, it was raining, just like the day he met you.

He hated the mist that had surrounded the shop, reminding him of the succubus and her promise.

Three days.

He had to tell you.

But why was it so damn hard to do? He used to be cold and calculated, having his fun toying with human emotions and killing without regret. He had no empathy, no sympathy for the lives he ruined.

But you were kind. So incredibly kind.

He rests his head on the counter as the door opens. He scents you in the air before you even step through, the smell of milk and honey wafting in the air as you approach the counter.

He had to tell you.

“Morning Dabi!” You cheer as you fold up your umbrella. “A mocha cappuccino with two shots of espresso please!”

He looks up and smiles crookedly. “Finally down to two?”

“I figured I would finally listen to you.”

“That's my girl.” He chuckles as he grabs a cup and prepares your drink. His hands were shaking, but he knew what he had to do.

When your drink was ready and paid for, Dabi keeps his hand on the cup as you take it from him, your hand overlapping his. You look at him with curious eyes behind your wide rimmed glasses. “Dabi? What’s wrong?”

“If I told you I was a bad man, what would you do?”

You narrow your eyes, but keep your hand over his. “Stealing a croissant from the place you work at isn't evil Dabi-”

“Not that.” He laughs but it's noticeably strained. “Not that.” He looks you in the eyes, greedily taking in the sight of you, for perhaps the last time. “What if I told you I was a bad man, who did horrible things. Whose caused terrible things.”

Your hand tightens around his, he feels the tremors in your body before you still.

“I would tell you I know better than to judge you for what you've done, and tell you that I judge you for who you are now. Does that forgive you of what you've done or what you've caused? No. But I judge what I see. And I see a good man.”

He lets out a shaky breath as his glamor drops, revealing his true form of scars and fangs and horns. His flames curl around him as he whispers. “What if I'm not a man?”

You jump back, hands flying to your glasses before they could tumble off of your face. You stare at him with your jaw hanging.

He looks at the coffee still in his grasp. At the scars covering his body.

He knew it.

He puts down the cup.

He knew it.

Clapping comes from the corner of the room where the succubus has taken form, her body still halfway between corporal and mist. She smiles, showing off her sharpened canines. “Bravo Dabi, I almost thought I’d have to do it myself.”

You shut your mouth and look at the succubus. “You're from before-”

“I am.” She purrs. “And I’m here to take Dabi home. Shigaraki will be happy to see his lieutenant again.”

Dabi burns away his apron, leaving him in his normal attire, the stitches of his black coat catching his eye. Memories of your embroidered bag slip through his mind, though are soon flushed out entirely when he hears the shattering of tables as a high pitched shriek comes from the mist succubus.

He phases through the counter in a wall of heatless flame as he sees you covering your ears.

The shriek had destroyed the tables and windows turning them into scrap, and had shattered your glasses. Blood was running down your ears from between your hands.

He stands between you and the succubus, his arms lit with powerful blue flames. “This wasn't part of the deal!”

“Not our deal. Shigaraki doesn't want you to have any temptations for returning to the human world. We need your girl gone for good.” She grins fiendishly. “She will never grow old, isn't that the best gift you could receive?”

“Dabi-” You call out from behind him.

“Stay back!” He yells at you. “Get out of here!” But he knew if you went into the rain outside, you would be done for. The succubus would be able to drown you where you stood.

Her body turns to pure water as she rushes at him. With her power boosted by the rain that washed in through the broken windows, all he could do was send wave after wave of fire to evaporate the water.

But what was evaporation if not mist?

He was fighting a losing battle as he backed up until he finally reached you. He covers you with his body as he puts up a wall of flame.

“I’m sorry.” He whispers to you as his flames are soon put out. “I’m sorry.”

You lift your hands to his face, eyes still closed, and pull him in, pressing your forehead against his.

“Don't be sorry for the things you can't control.” You whisper in return.

The succubus’s body turns corporal from the waist up. She coos. “How sweet, one last goodbye.”

You press a kiss to his lips.

“Don't open your eyes.” You murmur against his lips before letting go of his face and turning around to look at the succubus.

He closes his eyes, prepared to hear you scream in pain, prepared to hear your body drop to the ground.

But all he hears is the loud boom of thunder from outside and the crackle of rock breaking.

Rock?

He opens his eyes and sees you on your knees in front of a marble statue of the succubus.

His eyes widen as he sees you stand up. From the reflection of the marble, he can see your eyes flashing green.

“Did I ever tell you my mother was a demon?” You ask as you kneel and pick up your eyeglass frames from the floor. “She called herself Medusa. Silly, huh? My dad was human though, and well, as you know, they had me..” You turn around, your eyes now closed. “I guess you can say my quirk is having a very strange lineage.”

Dabi gets to his feet and runs at you, barreling into you with his arms swiftly wrapping around you.

You return the hug, your face nuzzled into his chest.

“So.. you're not mortal?” He says quietly, as if the good luck that had been shone upon the both of you would wither out.

“I'm not. It's my hundred and twenty-fourth this year.” You look up from his hold, he could see the faint glow of green from under your eyelashes. “Will you be there?”

He tightens his hold and presses his lips against yours.

“As if I'd ever leave.”

#bnha #mha #bnha x reader #mha x reader #my hero academia #my hero academia x reader #boku no hero academia x reader #boku no hero academia #bnha dabi #boku no hero academia dabi #bnha dabi x reader #mha dabi x reader #my hero academia dabi x reader #dabi x reader #touya x reader #- Luca #I snatched this prompt and I will fistfight Jesus all over again #- beta Andro #wHo aPParEntly cAnt ReAd

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lovelessdagger · 4 years ago

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Starlight - Prologue: Before

Pairing: Din Djarin x OC, Din Djarin x OFC

Rating: Mature

Enemies to Lovers, Slow Burn, Canon Divergence

Warnings: Blood, Violence, Explicit Language, Trauma

Words: 2000

Summary: What's past is prologue.

There's a new trend since the fall of the Empire, everyone is rising from the dead.

She's haunted by memories of the Empire that abandoned her, he's plagued with thoughts of what if and doubts of the future. The stars align in a string of constellations which guide them to their fates, decided long before them.

Tortured with echos of before, they're alone in an endless galaxy. But orphans have a funny way of finding each other, and the gods have a sick sense of humor.

Read on AO3 Here

Tatooine was the galaxy’s own personal hell, Mustafar at least had the pleasure of fauna. Demonic nightmarish fauna that was more than likely poisonous, but fauna nonetheless. Tatooine? Tatooine was a barren wasteland that had gone to the dogs, and even the dogs had decided they wanted no part in its misfortune. At least on Mustafar she could go inside and be relieved of the heat, at least Mustafar could be considered home.

Or at least it used to be, before.

“Maker,” An assassin mutters, crossing over a sand dune. The red tracking fob in her gloved hand sounds, it’s light flashing a similar color. To her relief, she was close. The sooner to the target, the sooner she could leave and never set foot on sand again.

She could count the total number of visits to Tatooine in her lifetime on one hand. The first she couldn’t have been more than fourteen, then again at an older age to meet with the Hutts. Nine years ago, her father had sent her on a reconnaissance mission to some abandoned moisture farm. It had been terribly boring, full of memories of family dinners and old beaten up droids.

The irony that that very mission essentially caused her to lose everything wasn’t lost on her.

Five years ago she sat in the very cantina she walks to, warned to run away. A mere twenty-one years old—give or take, her birthday after all was a random day chosen by her and the waking sun. There was no telling her true age, so with her knowledge of human anatomy and development, nine years ago she decided on being seventeen.

“Why seventeen?” He asks her. Entering hyperspace she sits behind him, tracing passing stars on the window.

“Because,” she begins matter-of-factly, “Seventeen is a completely insignificant year to be alive. Sixteen is old enough that I won’t be questioned for traveling alone, but still too young to be taken seriously. I’m not quite ready to be an adult yet, but next cycle I will be. So I am seventeen now, so that I may be prepared to be eighteen later.”

Eighteen hours later, the first Death Star exploded.

The events which follow guide her on a fragile string of stars throughout the galaxy, the culmination of which lead her back to hell. Or Tatooine, as the New Republic liked to call it.

Maybe if she had listened things would have been different.

Or maybe they would be worse.

Either way she would be here. The designer of her cruel fate and dictator of her misery have decided this long ago. Forever would she be trapped in hell with her memories.

And everyone else’s.

Condemned to relive the worst of what humanity had to offer, over, and over, and over again. It wasn’t so bad anymore, it’s easy to get numb to that sort of thing when your entire life was filled with it. Still, out of all the places in the galaxy, why did it have to be Tatooine?

She could understand the appeal for those on the run. Away from the New Republic’s oversight, moisture farms as the only viable landmark, and everyone being too overworked to give a damn. Theoretically it should have been easy to hide, the only issue was every criminal in the Outer Rim had the same idea. Originality be damned.

A detached hood and mask shield her identity, not that she believed anything with a penchant of life would be anywhere near. All that surrounded her was sand, rocks, and sand. Still, she could never be overly cautious. Walking up to the cantina, her eyes roll. It was like they wanted to make her job difficult. She could only assume the bar would be crawling with other criminals. Defected imperials, thieves, murderers.

It could have been a family reunion.

Eyes fall on her entrance, the suns backlight her into a silhouette. She becomes the one cascade of darkness in the light of the desert.

“Boys,” she greets, walking in. Her eyes scan the room, there couldn’t be more than ten men. She counts the passing of ten seconds before one approaches her. Within those seconds her mind remarks on the state of the bar, essentially unchanged. Same busted chairs, same creaking floors, same hideous decorations.

“What’s someone like you doing here?” a man grunts, stalking up to her. The most she does to acknowledge him is an eye roll. He grabs her arm, holding her in place. “Does your daddy know you’re out here?” he asks, leaning down to her ear.

She mocks a laugh. “Does yours?”

The man spits at her boots. “Bitch,” he says, walking away from her. His spit slowly rolls off her toe, leaving a glimmering streak along the leather in its wake. She pulls her blaster out, pointing the gun behind her, she shoots the man in the back of the head. He drops, his body heavy with a thud.

The cantina falls to silence. Nine bodies are now watching her. No one makes a move, even the bartender stops his clinking glasses. She’s almost inviting them to try her next.

“No?” She asks, holstering her gun. “Pity,” she mutters.

She walks up to body number seven, he sits in the same spot she had all those years ago. She places her soiled boot on his seat, grabbing his attention. Motioning for him to stand, she barely makes eye contact.

Her fingers run across the tables’ wood, rubbing over permanent stains and rotting cracks.

“I have a bad feeling about this,” he says. He always worried too much about her, “Whatever he’s planning, you won’t come out of it.”

“I’m not a little girl anymore,” she says. “I can take care of myself now.”

“I know. That’s what scares me. You’re not safe anymore,” he replies.

“I don’t think I’ve ever been safe.”

Seven stares at her incredulously, slurping his liquor.

“Come with me,” his voice echos around her. If she closes her eyes it’s like he’s still sitting in front of her. Pleading.

“I don’t like making messes inside, it’s bad manners,” she says, reaching for her blaster. “Get up.”

“Am I supposed to be scared, girl?” Seven asks. He scans her appearance and truth be told she was no Rancor, certainly no Hutt. While her build was athletic, her height physically left her the smallest in the room.

“You owe a lot of credits—” Seven stands, “—That’s better.” She drops her foot. “Now—“

“Step aside,” a modulated voice speaks behind her. She catches a reflection of the intruder in the glass of the framed artwork above Seven’s head. A Mandalorian, covered in pure Beskar, stands a whole head above her. Of course a fucking Mandalorian would show up right now, this had to be his doing. Even in the grave he had to fuck with her.

“Mando,” Seven laughs, he wipes his sweaty palms on his trousers. “I was uh, I was just talking to the missus here,” he grabs the girls shoulder. “Say, now’s not really a good time so how about we—“

“I don’t have time for this,” the Mandalorian says. He drops a bounty puck on the table, in blue holograms Seven’s profile appears.

WANTED: EDI MOURI

“Let’s go,” Mando says.

The girl shakes herself from Seven. “Listen Shiny, I was here first so move along.” The Mandalorian’s head tilts.

“Are you with the guild?” He asks.

She picks up the bounty puck, examining the emblem. “Not yours.”

Mando’s head turns to One’s fallen body on the ground, a growing pool of blood by his head.

“Your work?”

“You could say that.”

Seven clears his throat. Whispers of bets trail within the crowd. “In fairness. She did find me first.”

The pair are incredulous in their stare. “You want to go with the assassin?” Mando asks, a slight twinge of amusement escapes past his modulator.

Seven’s face turns to ice, his deep emerald skin becoming a pastel like hue. “On second thought. I always loved the Mandalorian stories I heard as a kid, I’m a big fan. Let’s go big guy.” He takes a step towards Mando, the assassin pulls out her blaster, pointing it to his head. At the same moment Mando pulls out his own, pointing it to her.

“Drop it,” he says. “I need him alive.”

She cocks her head to the side, pressing her forehead against the barrel of the gun. “Do it,” she purrs.

He’s motionless.

She grabs the Mandalorian’s wrist with one hand, striking the bend in his arm with the other. A blaster shot fires, Three falls to the ground with a hole in his head.

Mando lifts her by her neck and slams her into the table where Seven sits. Her vision flashes white and she groans on impact. Her hands fumble across the wood in frantic search of anything to defend herself with.

“Wait for me, I’ll come for you in two days.”

She smashes Seven’s plate against the table, shattering it. With a jagged edge of porcelain she slashes the Mandalorian’s arm, staining the edge with his red blood. In his stumble back she rolls off the table.

Harsh stabs are swung to the openings between the pieces of armor, he easily blocks but her movements are quick in succession. He ignites the flamethrower on his arm and she flips out of range.

Six isn’t so lucky.

She lands on his table, he’s charred and slumped over. She grabs a baton resting against his chair, cringing at its touch. Jumping of the table she strikes his helmet. The tune of impact horrifically melodic.

Brought to his knees, Mando grabs her leg sweeping her onto her back. The baton falls out of her grasp. They tumble on the ground, scathing for any advantage they could find on the other. She slaps a taser disk on his armor, the shocks malfunction the electronics.

The Mandalorian lays on the ground, emitting heavy gasps for air. Sounds of passing credits come from a back table. She straddles him, pulling out the knife kept in the welt of her sleeve. It’s metal presses against his capes fabric gathered around his neck.

A smile twinges under her mask. “Not bad,” she pants, leaning down over him.

The cantina doors automate open, in perfect eye-line, a green little creature. It waddles in, cooing with bright eyes at the patrons, greeting them all. It locks eyes with her, head tilted. The veil of her mask conceals her dropped jaw.

The Mandalorian takes the chance of her distraction; flipping their bodies over, he straddles her waist, pinning her hands above her head. The assassin’s chest rises and falls heavy from under him. “I told you to wait outside,” he grunts. The green thing coos, waddling to the pair. It reaches out for her. “No,” he says next, raising a scolding finger to it. It whines, plopping on its rear.

Past the visor, his eyes lock onto hers, he clears his throat. Suggestive positioning aside, he had claim to victory. Though, had it not been for the child he would have been a dead man, throat slit under her knife.

He could still kill her, his blaster was in reach, so was her knife.

He should kill her.

But he doesn’t.

“Hey Mandalorian,” she breathes. “Where’s your bounty?” Seven’s seat empty, table broken, shattered porcelain fallen on the floor.

“Fuck,” he swears. He stands, pocketing the knife she held. He picks up the creature, sparing her one last glance. “Stay out of my way,” he warns. Exiting the building she’s left on the floor.

The surviving witnesses avoid her glare. There are holes in the flooring, broken furniture, blood stains splattered on every surface.

So much for not making a mess indoors.

She scoffs, picking herself up. Her muscles ache, bruises are forming under her clothing, her head pounds.

Carelessly, she shoots Five on her way out.

It’s a redemption of sorts.

Officially, Tatooine was worse than hell.

Chapter One: The Meeting

#Mandalorian #the mandalorian #Din Djarin #din djarin x original character #din djarin x original female character #din djarin x oc #mandalorian fanfic #din djarin x reader #Starlight #the mandalorian fanfiction #mando x oc #mando x ofc #mando x original character #mando x original female character #din djarin x female oc

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incorrectzukka · 5 years ago

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so i was wondering if you had advice! i’m doing a zukka au based off a movie and a lot of it takes place in europe with some american stuff also. i hate modern atla au’s that are white washed and ik you’re a big advocate! so i’m making zuko be from japan and just on a foreign affairs thing and then making Sokka be from Iqaluit aka Inuit Land in Canada. I’m even bringing up a lot of racial issues that Inuit people went through in Canada. The location being in Europe is a huge plot point bc it involves actual landmarks from there. Do you think there’s more I can do to make sure I’m not white-washing it too much? from a simple white anon who wants to do their best :/

so, here’s the thing. setting modern aus in north america/europe is not inherently bad (but try to avoid it) because there is mass-migration of coloured communities, especially students who go abroad for uni. so, here’s my non-exhaustive tips on how to write immigrants/first-gen:

- there is a palpable difference between the family sphere and ‘outside’ sphere. every, and i mean every, immigrant acts different inside their house/around family than if even one non-family member is present.

- we often have to act/conform to white standards outside family: it started as a way to not get deported, but now it’s just to not get singled out. it’s like constantly wearing a mask that blurs with your identity.

- but immigrants have VERY strong roots and immigrant families desperately try to hold onto any bit of culture they can. inside the house is the only place we can feel not-white: we speak our languages, we make our ‘smelly’ food, we pray to our gods, etc.

- every immigrant kid finds a lot of things weird about white cultures but will never, ever say them out loud. in pubic, we stay silent and yes, it IS fear. no one will understand us.

- to be immigrant is to be your own surveillance: it’s like there’s always a white gaze looking at all our actions. it’s so difficult to find your identity and kind of unravel your heritage from your surroundings. the truth is, we can’t - but trust me, we think about it constantly.

- specifically for anon’s fic: an interesting way to bring this out could be to have the characters kind of reflect while looking at monuments/museums. being in love with a painting only to have this creeping feeling that the maker of this piece of art probably hated me, would have wanted me dead and his descendants still do? there’s no escaping it, so we embrace it.

#very obvious note: you will never know what it is like to be colonial. to be immigrant.#if you get criticism take it. this post is not your failsafe #if ur really interested i can recommend some good books / movie #not a quote #azraq says things

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filmhistorymptv1145 · 4 years ago

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Examine the ways in which films deal with social, political, cultural, and economic issues, both in direct and indirect ways. What is the political impact of cinema on audiences around the world and how do we see it? Should filmmakers directly engage with these kinds of issues or do so subtly? Discuss any of the films we have watched so far from this perspective, and draw upon other examples if necessary.

Social commentary exists in many forms. We read it in books and hear it in music of every genre. It does not discriminate, covering every issue from politics to economics. As film grew into its own medium, it became a new platform for artists to utilize in portraying their visions of the world. Whether they be whimsical and over the top, or down to earth and stunningly realistic, movies grew to become one of the largest entertainment industries. Directors and screenwriters, whether inspired by or displeased with their surroundings, came to use film as a method of sharing their thoughts and emotions. Be it through direct or indirect means, they would criticize politicians and governments to historic and current world events. Certain countries were more limited than others in controlling the content of films, pushing creators to become even more crafty and thoughtful when conveying their opinions on screen.

With the Motion Picture Production Code in full effect in the US, film makers who wanted to touch upon political issues in American society had to do so in a very subtle way. Take Force of Evil, for instance. On the outside, it reads like a classic gangster movie that was commonly seen in the 1940’s. However, it is deeply critical of the money and power-hungry American underbelly of society, digging into the Capitalism that has overtaken the country even in these earlier years. Irony is found in the two main characters, a pair of brothers. Joe is a lawyer who runs dirty deals with gang members, using his education and career to further their unsavory deeds. His brother Leo believes that his own line of work is earnest and respectable, when in reality it is not. Leo runs a ‘bank’ for the small number rackets that exist in New York City, mainly centered around bets that are placed on horse races. Leo strongly feels that he is not as morally corrupted as his brother, despite being in charge of an illegal business.

The mise-an-scene of the film is what really drives home the underlying critique of money and its corrupting force. Joe takes Leo’s former secretary Doris for a walk on Wall Street, taking her through a church cemetery. The church building is completely dwarfed by the towering buildings of Wall Street’s capitalist businesses. The implied message here is that money is the new God, that the hold it has over people is nearly as strong as religion.

For Polonsky, who was put on the blacklist by HUACC for his leftist ideals, this message is as true to him as it gets. In Polonsky’s eyes, people no longer feared God as much as they did losing money in capitalist America. Considering what the entire world had just lost three years prior in World War Two, it is almost insulting to showcase people like Joe and his associates on screen. Money grubbing is not what America wanted its people to think they had fought and died for, just the opposite. Justice and morality is what America wants people to think it stands for, not capitalism and the desire to supersede the people in their lives. Force of Evil is astoundingly subtle and simultaneously gritty, holding true to the film noir standard of the times.

At the end of the film, when Leo is killed by Joe’s nefarious associates, Joe goes to retrieve his brother’s body. Stairwells are used as a metaphor for an internal moral struggle. In a voiceover, Joe laments ‘I just kept going down and down. It felt like I was going to the bottom of the world.’ The decrepit area beneath the bridge is the exact opposite of the organized, shining city above. Finding his brother’s body is Joe’s moral rock bottom, both literally and metaphorically. It is a slap in the face for Joe, stripping away all of the justifications he has held for his less than moral behavior and actions.

Polonsky cuts to Doris as Joe says, ‘He is dead,’ juxtaposing the image of a living woman with the realization that his brother Leo is gone. It is jarring, but it also suggests a dual motivation rising within Joe. Inspired by Doris’ love and Leo’s death, Joe turns to make his way back up the enormous staircase. This finale leaves the viewers with some hope that Joe can possibly redeem himself after his selfish actions, but will it be as quickly as he ran down the stairs towards his brother’s corpse?

One wouldn’t think that in 1950’s America, a bold film would tackle such a hot social issue: equal rights for African Americans. Especially with the Motion Picture Production Code still in full effect. Typically, when reflecting on movies from that decade, our minds are filled with images of romantic melodramas, as well as musicals and other bright, cheery content. The Defiant Ones not only tackled the issue of racism in America, but it also set the standard for the ‘buddy’ films that are commonplace today. Two escaped convicts are chained together at the wrist, one white and one African American. The film goes back and forth between Johnny and Cullen’s escapades whilst on the run, and the officers who have been assigned to track them down and take them back to prison. The tone of the film is established in the first few minutes, when one of the officers refers to Cullen as the n-word. Later on in the movie, when Johnny and Cullen are apprehended by a group of townspeople after attempting to rob their general store, they start stringing up two nooses. Johnny is mortified, looking around at the townsfolk with terror in his eyes. ‘You can’t lynch me, I’m a white man!’ he pleads. The message is clear: lynching is something white people do to black people.

Not only does the movie look at the harsh reality of life for African Americans at the time, but the relationship that develops between Johnny and Cullen is in itself socially and politically charged. Over the course of the movie, the two convicts go from being at odds with one another to developing a close friendship. Not even Johnny’s mistake to trust the woman they holed up with can break their bond. Johnny leaves the woman behind to rescue Cullen from the dangerous swamps. At the film’s end, Cullen is cradling Johnny, who is wounded from a gunshot to the chest. They are collapsed on the grass together, sharing a cigarette while Cullen sings and the police detective approaches to apprehend them.

Not only has Johnny moved past his racist ideals, but one could also say that their positioning at the end of the film is borderline sexual. The way Cullen holds Johnny is almost as if it is in a lover’s embrace. Cullen’s portrayal in the film is especially bold, since he was portrayed to be well-spoken, intelligent and overall good. A far cry from films like Birth of a Nation where African Americans are put in the most negative light possible, portrayed as thieves and rapists while the Ku Klux Klan members are seen as heroic and noble. The Defiant Ones, supported by Sidney Poitier’s phenomenal acting, gave rise to a much more positive role for African American actors to portray on screen. Though the ‘righteous Black man’ did end up becoming a trope in Hollywood for many years, it was still a positive step in the right direction for civil rights.

Outside of the US, films were not constricted by strict standards of morality and content. They were much freer to openly criticize the societal norms and political atmospheres that were in place at the time of their creation. Hiroshima Mon Amour is a French made film that touches on the devastation of the nuclear bomb drops in Hiroshima and Nagasaki. While the movie itself seems to be mainly centered around a couple who cannot be together due to extenuating circumstances and their own inner demons, it is also direct commentary on how Japan remembered the bombings, and how different it is from the perspective of the rest of the world.

The first ten minutes of the film are composed of an almost poetry-like sequence of shots of Hiroshima before and after the bombs paired together with the two main character’s voice overs. The characters, a French woman, and a Japanese man, are in bed together in a loving embrace. The opening shot features ash falling onto their naked bodies, which we can infer mimics the death ash that fell onto Hiroshima after the atomic bomb’s detonation. This frame cross fades into nearly the same image of the naked couple, but the ash is gone from their bedroom.

The woman is stating that she knows all about what happened in Hiroshima, from having seen the newsreels that aired after the bombs had been dropped. The man argues that she has no idea what really happened. She states that in the newsreels she viewed, bugs were already crawling up through the debris and dirt on the second day and that flowers were growing all over Hiroshima just a few days after the bomb had been dropped. This voiceover is paired with the footage of a young boy being treated for burns and lesions on his skin, the exact opposite of new life springing forth from the ashes. The obvious pain that the boy is enduring is starkly contrasted to how the French woman describes all the different kinds of flowers that began blooming after the bombs had been dropped.

The Hiroshima that exists in the French woman’s mind is completely different from the Japanese man’s. This speaks to the overall theme of the movie, that collective and individual memories, as well as one’s identity can be corrupted. That the human brain is not a perfect organ and at times, it can even be our worst enemy. The French woman protests that she has seen Hiroshima. She had been to its museums, she knew how it had been over ten-thousand degrees in Peace Square at the time of detonation, and she had seen the films that had been made about the devastation. Her partner states over and over during this intro sequence that, ‘You saw nothing in Hiroshima. Nothing.’ Her experience of the disaster when compared to his is hollow, a clever way of illustrating how two people can think of the same event so differently.

Even if the trend of filmmaking has changed, shifting from film noir and melodrama to the blockbuster and action movies, social commentary still persists throughout the media. As the world around us changes and moves forward (be it for better or worse), so does the real-life content that directors and screenwriters are inspired by. Seeing politically and socially charged movies, whether they are extremely subtle or right up in your face, helps us both cope with world events and immortalize what occurred. As if to say, ‘We were here. We saw what took place. This is how we remember it.’

#abraham polonsky #force of evil #the defiant ones #hiroshima mon amour

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madhyanas · 5 years ago

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here be dragons

Part 1 of the Hospitality series

Pairing: Paz Vizsla x fem!Reader

Rating: T/PG-13

Word Count: 4.6k

Warnings: One use of a slur, aimed at the reader.

A/N: ahhhhh it’s a little late, but i finally finished this. now i can finally start posting this series in the RIGHT order, oh my god. check it out on ao3 here, if you want.

It’s late.

You lie in your cot, staring into the darkness. Unable to sleep, surrounded by the vicious tempest outside. It’s raining heavily; pelting down so hard you can hear it through the roof and feel it through the floor. Occasionally, you hear a boom of thunder, and the inn doors rattle and shake.

You’re glad you fixed the waterproofing this morning.

In a storm like this, you hold some half-hearted hope that a traveller will stop by. Someone soaked and freezing; desperate enough for you to hike up the price of lodging without turning away business.

Swindling a tourist here and there can’t hurt, in the grand scheme of the galaxy. You have to eat, after all.

The rich scent of waterlogged earth fills the room, and something about it seems unfamiliar. You’ve accustomed to the occasional downpour by now, having lived on Takodana for many years. But the lingering air of petrichor reminds you just how different home was — all dry deserts and salt flats, the odd dust storm. Certainly no lush greenery or blue skies.

As a lump settles in your throat, you miss the mechanic stand from your childhood. The slick smear of oil on your mother’s cheek as she gave the speeder a tune-up. The stripes on your father’s montrals above the welding mask as he soldered wires back together. When he was done, he’d always squish your little face in his palms. Smoothing his thumbs over the white markings on your face, near identical to his. The only symbol of your Togruta heritage, contrasted on a face of your mother’s colouring.

You sigh, and sit up. Now, you’re stuck here. Running an inn by yourself, out of business and in denial about it. You miss the feeling of freedom that came and left with youth; running through the streets, being swept up in warm, protective arms. Your mother rolling her eyes. Your father’s laugh.

Suddenly, a bang. You hear front doors slide open, and your heart leaps into your throat. The sound rings in your ears for a moment with its violence. Blindly, you grab the vibroblade from the table and scramble to the entrance. You’ve never used it before, and you pray the doors are just malfunctioning.

As you skirt through the narrow passageway, your stomach drops. No such luck. A large, silhouetted figure stands before the main desk, looming ominously as the wind howls outside. Maker, they’re huge. Far bigger than you, and a small, nagging part of your brain says they could kill you in a heartbeat.

It’s still dark. Frozen as you are, you haven’t turned the lamp on. In vain, you hope they might leave if no-one arrives. A bolt of lightning flashes outside, and the glare arcs off the stranger’s helmet.

Your eyes widen at the glimpse of a smooth, glass t-visor. A Mandalorian.

Oh, you’re fucked.

In that moment, they turn to you directly. The back of your neck tingles, and you realise they can see you. Their helmet turns down to the vibroblade in your hands, before returning to your face calmly. Of course. You don’t think you’re a very threatening sight, cowering in the doorway like this.

You feel remarkably stupid.

Hesitantly, you step forward and switch on the lamp at the desk with your free hand. Light pours out softly between you, doing nothing to calm your nerves. You squint, eyes adjusting to the brightness, trying to control the pounding of your heart.

“I am in need of lodging.”

You blink. The voice, low and rumbling, is scrambled by a vocoder. Male, from what you can tell, and the static scratches at your ears. He’s covered from head-to-toe in deep blue armour; rivulets of water drip off the steel, puddling on your floor. Some kind of pack rests on his back, and you try, fruitlessly, to ignore the glint of a trigger and scope.

Towering over you, you’d have to crane your head just to look him in the visor. You don’t have the nerve, in any case.

It occurs to you, faintly, that you could die tonight. It also occurs to you that the chances of an untimely demise would be significantly higher, if you keep gawking at him like this.

“Uh…”

“Lodging,” he repeats, sounding distinctly impatient. “Is there a vacancy?”

Maker, when is there not.

“Yes! Yes, there’s a— there’s a vacancy.” Fumbling for the log-holo, you set the vibroblade down in a cubby under the desk. Still within reach, and your receptionist autopiloting kicks in. “Uh, single room, how many nights?” You glance up at the shiny helm. The usual questions, but it feels… impertinent, asking for information. Like you’re violating his sanctity, or something, just daring to wonder. Especially about someone so clearly hostile. How does a faceless sheet of beskar manage to make your stomach churn?

“One.”

Of that, you’re grateful. One night, and you’ll be done with this. “Okay,” you reply, dragging out the sound. You sound nervous. He must be able to tell. “And, uh, name?”

He stares you down. It suddenly feels cold, frigid, even though his visage most definitely cannot change. It strikes you, in that moment, that even your sensitive nose can’t detect anything on him. The rain has washed it all away, except for a stubborn, smokey hint of blaster ammunition. Recently fired. A shiver runs up your spine.

Acerbically, he snaps, “Pick one.” There’s a rising heat behind the words, you don’t push your luck.

“I’ll— I’ll just put ‘Mando’,” you mutter, entering the moniker into the log. Once again, in the span of less than five minutes, you feel like a moron. Heat rushes to your cheeks.

But there’s one more caveat. You should probably forget it, just this once, but for some reason: “You’re not allowed to bring weapons inside. While— While you’re staying.”

A golden rule. One of the conditions upon which you were even allowed to run this place was your responsibility to maintain peace. (You often wonder what the Pirate Queen was thinking, believing you capable of breaking up any kind of violence.)

To your relief, the Mandalorian doesn’t explode with rage, or any such violent gestures. His shoulders are tense, but this — dealing with irritated, tired travellers — is familiar. He’s no different, you tell yourself.

“The weapons stay.”

“I can’t let you—”

“I’m a Mandalorian. Weapons are part of my religion.” You blink, and your silence seems enough for him to continue. “I won’t be using them on you, if that’s what you’re worried about. Keep your distance, and there won’t be a problem.”

A threat. Perhaps he’s trying to reassure you, in some strange way, but it doesn’t stop the cold fist of dread from closing around your heart.

“I’m… not supposed to—”

“You have my word.”

A muscle in your jaw ticks. Despite the nerves wrenching your stomach, there’s an urge to stand your ground. To defend the principles of Maz’s territory. (Or, more selfishly, to rebuke how easily he’s trampling all over you.) You shift, ready to argue.

But then he moves, one hefty arm lifting upwards, and you flinch. He pauses, before fishing a leather pouch out of a pocket and dropping it on the counter. You hear the familiar clink of credits. The sound elicits an instinctual reaction, a lurch of hope. You lean forward with a frown, inspecting the offering.

You gingerly pluck it by the drawstring, and its weight is a pleasant surprise. The contents are promising — a fee far exceeding the cost of one night’s stay.

A prickling mixture of shame and embarrassment heat your cheeks. Oh, how quickly your righteous anger fades at the promise of payment. Again, the back of your neck tingles. A reminder, that the Mandalorian is watching.

Taking a steadying breath, you bring your eyes back to the visitor. “Should I… show you to your room?”

A beat, then he nods.

You step to the side and flick the overhead lights on, waiting for him to go first. But he continues staring, and your skin itches with the weight of judgement. You realise he’ll only follow behind.

You swallow thickly, keeping your gaze averted as you lead him inside. Your little bungalow inn doesn’t have that many rooms to begin with, so you keep them all clean and ready for a guest — that’s not the issue.

But you have to go the night knowing there’s an elite warrior, perfectly capable of silencing your heartbeat, staying two doors down. You have to sleep with that knowledge.

You realise the vibroblade still rests in your palm. It feels clunky. Foolish, in your inexperienced hand. The Mandalorian’s heavy footsteps thud behind you, accented by the clank of metal armour. You clamp down the urge to rub the back of your tingling neck, and in some peculiar urge to reconcile, you half-turn to him as you walk. Slowly, showing him the weapon.

“Ah, I wouldn’t use this, you know. On you.” He’s crushingly silent, appraising you. He has to duck his head slightly to fit in the passageway, nearly filling up its width with his bulk.

You blather on, blindly spitting out words to fill the silence. “It’s just— all sorts pass through here, you know? This place has Kanata’s stamp of approval and all, but better safe than sorry.”

Still, no response, and you wince at just how green you sound. You swallow, having reached the doorway; you’ve led him to the quarters with the largest bed, having figured he’ll need it.

“There’s instructions to set the passcode inside. If you need anything,” you say, hoping he won’t, “I’m that door over there.” For one, awkward moment, you stand, feeling horribly out of place with the brooding figure at your side. “Well. Goodnight, then.”

You turn around, credits and blade in hand, ready to step into your quarters and get some kriffing rest, when the crawling, fuzzy feeling on the nape of your neck intensifies.

With one foot through the doorway, you hear him call out to you. “I thought no weapons were permitted.” A coarse noise crackles through the vocoder, and you realise it’s a laugh. You feel a cold sweat run down your back. “Is that blade just for show, then, little innkeeper?”

He— he sounds amused. Finding entertainment in your clear disadvantage. You feel sick, sick to your stomach, and slam the button to close the door behind you. Wetness springs to your eyes like clockwork, but the tears don’t fall even as you collapse on your cot. You’re pathetic, you think. Unable to stop him from belittling you, never mind barring him entry.

Sleep, though it eventually comes, is fitful and disturbed. Phantom helmets and mocking, modulated laughter fill your head.

In the morning, his room is emptied out. Bed made, fresher tidied.

No trace of the Mandalorian, at all. You’ve never been more grateful.

———

The second time you meet the Mandalorian, you’ve got your hands full.

“I’m not running a charity here.”

A Zabrak man has his hands planted on the desk, leaning into your space uncomfortably. Maker, guests like these test your patience.

It’s a poor attempt at intimidation. He’s taller than you, certainly, but gangly in a way that screams awkward, rather than lean. Scrawny, drawn out. Even the spikes protruding from his yellowish face are lumpy and faded. You wrinkle your nose at the faint, rank odour of sweat and booze. Overall, you’re unimpressed.

Besides, imposing figures don’t phase you much anymore. Not since that fateful encounter, nearly a cycle ago. You’d feared for your life that night.

Few were as large a threat as that Mandalorian.

The Zabrak hisses in your face, “Maz Kanata owes me a great debt. I’ll take it out of my bill.”

In your periphery, you can hear the telltale sounds of landing gear outside — a new arrival, but you can’t deal with that right now.

You blink slowly, and sigh. “Listen, this shtick you’re trying to pull? I’ve heard it before.” So, so many times. You’re not the only cheapskate in these parts. “You have a problem with Maz, you take it up with her. She doesn’t control my inn any more than I control the Castle.” That’s… not exactly true. But you doubt it matters to him.

Twisting his face unpleasantly, the man snarls, “I demand recompense, innkeeper. Return my credits, and we won’t have a problem.”

You recall being browbeaten at similar words. That night you cowed, frozen by the weight of mortality hanging over your head. But you have since hardened in the months that passed, and you steel your resolve.

Leaning close to the Zabrak, getting in his face, you speak through bared teeth. “You’re right. You get out of my inn, and we won’t.” Curling your lips into a disgusted half-sneer, “So I’ll be keeping my credits.”

“Insolent fool,” the Zabrak growls, and he moves to reach for something concealed behind his back. You jaw clenches — how did you miss that he was armed? — and you flinch backwards as he reveals a blaster. Before you can reach for your trusty vibroblade, the doors slide open with an innocent ting.

Standing there in the doorway, is your Mandalorian.

Your eyes widen at the sight of him, huge as ever, ducking his head to step over the threshold. Armed to the teeth, as per usual. He saunters forward slowly, purposefully. The swagger, the presence in his gait impossibly makes him seem… bigger? Somehow even more bulky than last time?

The Zabrak whirls round, only to balk at the steely-blue cuirass his chin comes to level with. He’s harmless compared to the warrior before him. You can only imagine how tiny you must seem. The Mandalorian keeps his head inclined down to the horned man, who’s now gripping the desk behind him, but his words are for you.

“Trouble, innkeeper?”

Maker, it’s been months since you heard that rumbling voice. It still knots your stomach, but less so, you think, than it did. You’re surprised he remembers you.

Your confidence with the pesky guest has not dissipated, however, and you find your words. “I don’t know.” You address the Zabrak calmly, “Is there any trouble, sir? It’d be a shame if things got… unpleasant.”

The wilting man cranes his head to you with a frantic look in his eye, and you feel a flash of pity. Ah, kriff. You’ve made your point.

Glancing at the Mandalorian, you make a subtle ‘back-up’ motion with your palm, half-wondering if he’ll take offence. But thankfully, he does as you request, and the Zabrak’s wheeze of relief is audible as he deflates.

“Takodana Castle,” you start, a little gentler than before, “Is three miles that way.” You thrust a thumb to the side. “One path, cuts through the forest. Can’t miss it.”

The Zabrak stumbles his way around the Mandalorian, never taking his wide eyes off the helmet. The armoured man steps aside silently, and it’s a wonder how he makes such a simple gesture seem so mocking. Saying that he’s the one in control, even if it’s temporarily at your behest. All in the way he shifts, the dangerous glint of his blasters in the light.

The memory of his laugh, hearty and sinister, echoes in your brain. Your toes curl in your boots.

Once he’s out of the door, the Zabrak gains some ill-founded sense of security. His wiry frame tenses, and he glares at you, spitting, “Watch yourself, halfbreed.” With a single, fleeting glance to the Mandalorian, he runs off towards the forest.

…ah.

You purse your lips, and look to the floor out of habit. Heat rushes to your cheeks. The slur is not unfamiliar to you. Your lack of montrals and lekku allow you to blend in, to lie low. But your markings reveal who you are. It’s strange; you think you’re proud of them. What they represent, who gave them to you. But the wave of shame that crashes over you sends blood roaring in your ears. For the Mandalorian to witness this? It’s a pitiful sight.

In the corner of your eye, you see him clench a fist, and you quash the sickness of your heart down with a vengeance. There are more pressing matters at hand.

“So. It’s, uh, been a while.” You cringe at the heavy-handed attempt to change the subject. Now that cursed Zabrak has left, it’s like all your bravado has sputtered out. And, really? Last time you saw the Mandalorian, a man from a culture of elite warriors, you thought he was going to murder you in your sleep. Been a while, indeed.

He plays along. “Well, I was in the area. Figured I should save the damsel in distress, while I had the chance.” He leans an elbow on the counter, resting his weight on it, and for a moment you’re perplexed.

The Mandalorian is… teasing you. Relaxed against your desk, standing close but not enough to be invasive. It’s a far cry from that shadow in the pouring rain, haunting your doorstep. “Although, from where I was standing, you didn’t seem to need much help,” he continues smoothly.

Compliments? Maker, if it were anyone else, you might even think he was making a pass at you.

But it’s him, and you give the helmet a strange look. It’s a little freaky, in all honesty. “I… see. What business do you have here, then, Mandalorian?”

The helm sags slightly in what you can only describe as a falter. It’s jarring. So incongruent with the persona you have crafted in your mind.

“I can’t just drop by?” You imagine your disbelief is evident on your face, because he sighs, a deep and raspy thing, before his voice sobers a fraction. “I have business with the Pirate Queen.” Your shoulders slacken. Of course. It’s a relief, in some way, to know that the purpose of his visit is so normal.

You ready the holo-log at your side. “Ah, sure. How many nights?”

He straightens and rubs a hand to the back of his neck briefly. You stare at the offending limb, entranced by such a normal, hesitant movement. It’s… It’s so very human, for lack of a better word.

“I’m not looking for lodging.” You blink up at his visor, frowning. “My work should only take a day, at the most.”

“Then…”

“I told you. Just wanted to drop in.” That doesn’t answer anything at all, and he elaborates, “I rarely visit Takodana, innkeeper. I thought I’d say hello while I was here.”

Your lips part. What? How… how can there be so much lost in translation? You’ve been afraid of this man, or a barebones idea of him, for months now. Like some kind of boogeyman, under-the-bed horror to spook children into good behaviour. And he comes to you with something like friendliness, with a smart one-liner and warmth in his tone?

You shake your head, dazed; reluctantly, you decide to give it to him straight. “I… I wasn’t under the impression that we were friends, Mandalorian.” He stills, and you keep going. “Honestly, uh, last time. It wasn’t great, for me. You— You scared me.”

‘You still do’ sits on the tip of your tongue. In the disarming haze of his amicability, you can’t tell if it’s true or not. You ramble in the face of his silence, if only to quiet the conflict in your mind. “I thought that you’d— I mean, I thought that I might. Y’know. Die, that night. I was tired, okay, and— and I didn’t know what to think…”

You trail off.

The Mandalorian stands before you, wordless. Your knees aren’t trembling, but there’s a worry seated deep in your chest. It’s interesting, maybe, that you don’t know who it’s for. Guilt begins to creep up on you, bitter at the back of your throat. Kriff. Just as you open your mouth to say something, his voice comes through the vocoder.

“I apologise. I was not… I did not know. It was never my intention to scare you.” His voice sounds hoarse, like the very thought of your fear repulses him. His words are not clumsy, per se, but there’s a rawness there that makes you notice how eloquent he usually sounds. The visor does not stray from your face. “I am sorry. Truly, I am sorry.” His shoulders are slumped, and he’s curling in on himself slightly. Making himself smaller, you realise faintly, and he presses a gloved hand to his chest. The helmet bows. “Ni ceta. I apologise, innkeeper.”

You blink rapidly, not knowing what to say. That’s… an awful lot to take in. You can’t remember the last time someone really begged for your forgiveness like this. You swallow thickly. Don’t cry.

The air seems muggy, somehow. Heated. As if all the truth that has burst forth carries a flame with it, burning the space between you. Hesitantly, you place a hand on his vambrace. The metal is cool against the warmth of your palm, and you’re careful not to touch any of the buttons on the control panel.

“Thank you,” you murmur. “I appreciate that. It’s— it’s alright. I think.” You nod determinedly, as if to reaffirm your words.

Heartfelt apologies don’t spill out so easily from heartless men, surely. He’s worth more trust than you give him. And his stance — defeated, ashamed — no, it doesn’t suit him at all. The helm tilts back up to your face, and you shoot him a small smile. Some kind of impulse lurches in your chest; to comfort, to come together. It’s genuine, and there’s a rosy warmth to your cheeks that feels pleasant.

You slide your hand away from his arm to offer it in the air. It hovers boldly, an attempt to bridge the abyss. It takes him a second, but he clasps your hand in his. You shake firmly, and his grip is strong, yet not painful. Reassuring, in a way. You suspect he’s controlling it for your sake.

“Let’s start fresh, huh?” You give him your name, and he repeats it.

His baritone resonates in your ears; it sounds like molasses, dripping into chest and heart. To hear your name uttered with respect, reverence, in that clear-cut way he speaks. It is nothing short of a miracle, in a moment.

You reassure him immediately, “I don’t need yours, if you’re worried about that sort of thing.” You lick your lips nervously. “But I do need something to call you. Got a preference?”

He hums, and you’re grateful how at-ease he sounds. It’s better this way. “What was it I told you that day? ‘Pick one’, I believe.”

So. This is the Mandalorian. He’s got jokes.

You snort, more at the realisation than anything else, and his posture brightens. “If you’re sure.” You press your lips together, thinking of a name. The back of your neck tingles all the while, and the weight of his stare is welcome for the first time. “We could just keep simple? ‘Mando’ would work.”

“Original,” he drawls, not unkindly. “But fine by me.” You have no idea, but it sounds like he’s smiling.

“Alright, then, Mando.” It’s so surreal, chatting with your own personal nightmare after months, just to find out he’s kind of… sweet. Nice to talk to, in a way you didn’t know you needed till now.

———

You two make small talk for a while over the counter. Mild, lighthearted. You learn that Mando’s a much more nuanced soul than you first assumed. Thoughtful, contemplative — careful in the way he speaks to you. You’re not used to that kind of consideration, and it’s appreciated. He’s funny, too, in a crooked kind of way. Like a mismatched puzzle piece fitting in the wrong set, bringing a bemused, entertained quirk to your lips. He conveys wry amusement surprisingly well, despite wearing no facial expression to back him up.

Now that you’re not quaking at the sight of him, your curiosity emerges. Is it a pain, lugging so much armour around? Does he sleep with the helmet on? When did he get that ship, parked just outside? Is it painful, having such a pensive heart, but evoking fear with every step?

Mainly, though, you’re just happy. The blue of his beskar is softer to the eyes, now. It’s the feeling of dipping your toes into chill, crisp waters. Testing the mood of the current, of this new depth you have yet to discover.

Being friends. What a novel idea.

Mando turns to look out the window. The day is well into the afternoon; there’s still time before sunset. “I should get going,” he states, but makes no move to shift off the desk.

There’s a twinge of disappointment. “Oh. Right, your work.” You scuff the toe of your boot against the floor. What can you say, really? One day of budding friendship doesn’t give you the right to impose.

“Yes. The Castle is… eastward, you said?”

You hum in agreement with where his finger is pointing. A shame. You thought you’d have more time with him. “Three miles through the forest,” you intone glumly. “Can’t miss it.”

Would you have to wait a cycle to see him again? More? Would you be waiting here, stuck in your idyllic, but oh-so-small corner of the galaxy, waiting for your Mandalorian to return? You purse your lips; the image doesn’t agree with you. You don’t agree with it, rather.

Finally, he straightens, and the height difference doesn’t startle you, this time. (Impresses you, maybe. Makes something giddy flutter in your chest. But you can’t afford those thoughts, can you?)

Mando tilts his helmet side to side slightly, as if he’s considering something. Weighing the pros and cons, and the action is somewhat exaggerated. You pay no heed, picking at a nail bed idly. It’s childish, sulky.

“Three miles can be travelled by foot. No need to waste the fuel.” He turns to you. “Never been through these woods before, though. Might get lost.”

In your disgruntlement, you don’t catch the leading inflection. You sigh. “I don’t think a Mandalorian would have much issue with an uninhabited forest. You’ll be fine. Just one straight path; don’t stray and it’s easy—”

Mando bends down a little, and says your name seriously, prompting you to look up. "I might get lost. Could use a guide.”

Your lips part in realisation, forming a small ‘o’. That’s what you say, too, and heat blooms in your cheeks at his static-filled snicker. He thinks he’s clever.

“So,” you start swiftly, attempting to recover your dignity. “Is it my turn to save the damsel?” He turns to the door, and you step round the desk to join him.

“I can slay my own beasts,” he snarks, and the mirth you hear is lilting. “You can return the favour, for the dragon I just scared off.”

You huff. “Hardly a dragon, I think.” With finality, you flick off the electric lights and step outside into the clean Takodana breeze. “Wasn’t really a rescue so much as pest control.” You detect the light, spiced scent of the fragrant tree bark nearby. It grounds you to this moment. Taking in a hearty breath, you do your best to put that stinking Zabrak out of your mind.

A few hours off would be good. You barely get any guests anyway, and Maz is the understanding type. Living for millennia must do that to you.

Mando says nothing as you punch the lock code digits into the door, and start to make your way towards the forest. You know the path to the Castle like the back of your hand, like the strokes on your face, but you have never walked it with company. You smile, unabashed.

There’s a first time for everything.

———

[note: if there’s any warnings you think should be mentioned, please let me know.]

taglist: @pikapuff316 @theocatkov @starlite41

if you’d like to be added to, or removed from, the taglist, just give me a shout :)

#paz vizsla #paz vizsla x reader #paz vizsla x you #paz vizsla/reader #paz visla/you #my writing #the mandalorian #reader-insert #the heavy infantry #heavy infantry #series: hospitality #part 1 #hospitality: part 1 #here be dragons #sw #star wars

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hedwigstalons · 5 years ago

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Reunion

Something soft for @gumnut-logic‘s Fluffember. There is no way I’ll be able to do 30 separate fics but this kinda covers ‘reassure’, ‘special person’, ‘together’ and ‘bedtime’.

It’s not edited or polished but I wanted to get something out before inspiration abandoned me again.

xoxoxox

Brandon closed the holocall and slumped back on the couch with a contented sigh. Three months. Three long and agonising months in close quarters with the Lemaires for work meant that not only had seeing Alan been out of the question, their calls had been distinctly censored. Or rather the calls had been more guarded after the one attempt at being, ahem, intimate, that Madeline had walked in on. He still cringed at the memory. Nope, calls had been kept distinctly more bland after that incident.

He’d seized on the chance to talk freely the moment he had got home, not even stopping to unpack, and now he was exhausted. A wave of tiredness swept over Brandon, post travel fatigue mixed with the comfortable glow that came from talking to Alan and being back in his own territory. The sighs turned to a yawn which in turn gave way to gentle snores. Barely an hour later he was startled from his nap by a loud and insistent knocking at the door.

***

Alan turned up the track, feeling the road beneath the car getting bumpier and bumpier. While he was grateful to Parker for the lessons that enabled him to make this journey solo, his education in driving had been rather lacking in how to choose an appropriate car; the sleek, red sports car, which had looked perfect on the hire yard forecourt, now felt woefully ill-equipped to deal with the worsening terrain.

He checked and rechecked the address that Brandon had given him, wondering if he had taken a wrong turn but everything tallied up. The bachs that lined the lane at intervals were mostly in darkness, as would be expected for holiday homes out of season, and he struggled to imagine Brandon actually living in one of the small cabins. The one ahead of him, however, showed signs of occupation, a muted light shining out through the glass in the door. He turned into the empty parking spot next to the cabin and killed the engine.

Grabbing his duffel off the passenger seat, the car seemingly lacking a trunk, Alan steeled himself and headed towards the front door. He paused on the step, taking in deep breaths of the air that held the unmistakable tang of snow as it blew down from the nearby mountain. It had felt such a good idea at the time, rushing off to New Zealand the second he closed the call with Brandon, but now he was here he wondered if he was coming across as too needy, too forward. Perhaps he should have waited until morning.

Scott had pencilled in two days off rota the moment Alan had gone to him with Brandon’s return date, two days that he hadn’t dared tell his boyfriend about in case the world conspired against them and ripped that precious time away in a whirlwind of rescues. But for once the world had been obliging and so here he was, bag in hand, about to surprise the man who had barely left his thoughts during their enforced separation. Too late for doubts now, he was here. One more deep breath and he rapped on the door with rather more confidence than he felt.

***

The knocking, loud and unexpected, had Brandon nearly rolling off the couch at the intrusion. Rubbing his eyes he checked the time wondering who the hell could be calling on him at this time of night. It was probably just some lost holiday maker, struggling to find which rental was theirs in the dark and seeking help from the nearest cabin that looked occupied. It wouldn’t be the first time he had had to direct someone further up or back down the track depending on which cabin number they had failed to find. He was almost an unofficial warden for the lane being it’s only permanent resident, not that he was there much of the time himself as this latest work trip had proved.

Brandon hauled himself to his feet, preparing to point the way to whichever lost soul had found his bach this time. He shambled down the hallway, stretching the kinks out as he went, his eyes still bleary as he unlatched the door. He blinked sleepily, his brain not fully registering the sight.

***

From his place on the step Alan could see the familiar silhouette making its way down the hallway. Nervous excitement fluttered in his stomach as he waited for Brandon to open up. The butterflies intensified at the sound of the lock being opened. Moments later there he was, the ginger curls all mussed up and, Alan noticed guiltily, yawning and rubbing his eyes in a way that suggested he’d just woken up.

“Hey,” Alan greeted Brandon, smiling sheepishly.

“Alan?” Brandon steadied himself on the doorframe, exhaustion still keeping tight hold on his body.

“Yeah, uh, can I come in?” New Zealand was far colder than the island and Alan was feeling to temperature drop keenly, it probably didn’t help that he was still only in a t-shirt. Seeing Brandon completely thrown for a loop had him seriously doubting the wisdom of his actions.

“Oh God, yeah,” Brandon stepped to one side to let Alan in, the reality finally sinking in that Alan really was there on his front step, “I just wasn’t expecting you tonight.”

“I said I’d come as soon as I could,” Alan mumbled in explanation as he followed Brandon up the hallway and towards the lit room at the back of the cabin.

This was the first time that Alan had visited his home, it normally making far more sense for him to go to the island, and Brandon was suddenly uncomfortably aware of just how far removed it was from the opulence of Alan’s usual surroundings. Even on a good day the cabin was pretty shabby and the whole four roomed building could easily fit inside the lounge of the Tracy villa. Now, after three months of sitting empty the bach smelled musty and in need of a good airing, there was also a damp chill in the air which suggested the roof might have sprung a leak somewhere. He had been meaning to spruce the place up a bit before Alan arrived, expecting him in the morning at the earliest; he hadn’t counted on the Tracy definition of ‘soon’ applying to vacation time as well.

Alan followed Brandon into the lounge area and dropped his bag on the floor, noting that his wasn’t the only case in the corner of the room. He was really starting to regret heading over so quickly especially seeing as Brandon hadn’t even looked him in the eye since inviting him in, in fact he hadn’t even turned to face him since they reached the lounge.

Brandon scratched the back of his neck. He’d been foolish to invite Alan to stay. How could his little cabin compare to Tracy Island? He felt the overwhelming need to explain.

“So, welcome to Casa Berrenger. On the flanks of what has to be the greatest mountain in the world.” He gesticulated at blinds that were closed across the picture window. “I mean, I saw this place and thought ‘Hey Brandon, what could be cooler than having Ruapehu as your neighbour’. You might have seen it, in some of my vlogs...”

“Brandon…”

“I filmed the very first one right on the slopes out there. It was, like, totally awesome. It’s still my favourite place to board, hence the cabin. You should come stay when the snow’s right and I can take you on out the slopes, that would be, like, amazing...”

“Brandon…” Alan hadn’t heard Brandon this babbling since he’d helped pluck him off a mountain following an avalanche. Back then he’d initially taken Brandon’s non-stop chatter to be part of his natural exuberance but as he got to know him more he learnt that it was more a sign of nerves, a cover for the insecurities he kept hidden from the viewers.

“Except you’ve probably been there, right? I mean, you’ve been everywhere. But yeah, this little place isn’t much to look at now but in the morning when you can see her,” he waved vaguely at the shut blinds again, “man, the views more than make up for…”

“BRANDON!”

Brandon couldn’t put it off any longer. He turned, hardly daring to meet Alan’s eyes which he was sure would show some sort of contempt at the small space with it’s meagre and mismatched furnishings.

Alan reached out and gently took hold of Brandon’s hand, rubbing the pad of his thumb over the back of it. “I don’t care where you live. I didn’t come here to see the mountain. I came because I wanted to see you...because I’ve missed you.”

Brandon looked up to see only warmth and softness in Alan’s gaze. He closed the small gap between them, melting into the embrace as he rested his chin on Alan’s shoulder and felt a fool for worrying that Alan would be so shallow as to judge him on his home. Despite their riches the Tracy family had never shown any signs of looking down on those who had less than them but he’d hardly ever let anyone cross the threshold of his little mountain sanctuary and it left him feeling vulnerable.

“I missed you too, three months is far too long,” he sighed as he gently planted a kiss on the warm neck. Feeling the arms around him pull him in that bit closer he raised his head again so see a need darkening Alan’s eyes, a need that he felt mirrored in himself. “Y’know, I was just off to bed when you got here.”

Alan quirked an eyebrow, knowing full well that Brandon had already been asleep despite being still fully clothed. “Now that sounds like a nice idea, I could probably do with turning in too,” he yawned, “you aren’t the only one that’s been travelling, ‘cept I’ve been working too.”

“Uh, one slight problem,” Brandon smirked. “This place isn’t as large as yours and, uh, there’s no guest room. D’you think Virgil would have a problem with that?” he asked, referring to the rules laid down when they first hooked up which meant he always had a guest room available on the island, even if he never used it.

Alan cocked his head to one side as though giving the issue some serious consideration. “Oh, I think we’ll find a way to manage.” The lust in his eyes deepened as Brandon pulled away and led them back up the hallway towards the bedroom.

“Well then, I think it’s bedtime.”

#thunderbirds are go #thunderbirds 2015 #thunderbirds fanfiction #Alan Tracy #Brandon Berrenger #Spacebears #fluffember2020

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oskea93 · 5 years ago

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My Heart Has a History (5)

This was ridiculous!

I was surrounded by four white walls and the clock on the wall was beginning to drive me insane. I must have been in here for close to an hour and I had yet to be seen by anyone. I had asked multiple times on the way over here why I was being arrested, but all I got was a few mumbles and that was it.

"Abbot-" A man's voice sounded as he opened the door. "It's time for your phone call." His whole demeanor was caulis and rude. I struggled to get up from the metal seat as the bastard just stood there watching.

"Thanks for the help." I muttered. As I made my way to the phone, I tried my best to look for Gemma or for any sign of Unser or Hale. "You got five minutes." I rolled my eyes as the man took a seat across from the phone, making sure to keep his eyes on me I had a decision to make. I could either call my husband and try to explain to him what was going on or I could call Jax. I don't know which one would be worse and which one would be better. They would both freak out about the situation but Jax would possibly take it to extremes. Then again, Jax would be able to get both Gemma and I released. "Do you have to make a phone call or not, Abbot?" Before I could reply, Unser's voice began to filter through the hall soon revealing himself, Clay, and Jackson. "Are you okay?" Jax rushed over to me, placing his hands on my shoulders in a comforting manner. I just nodded my head. "What the hell is this all about?" All I could do was shrug my shoulder at his question. It was as if my mouth and brain were no longer working in sync. Jax stayed by my side as Clay appeared with Gemma, a look of relief on her face when she saw me. "You wanna tell me why Gemma Morrow and Presley Abbot were arrested?" Unser began to question the asshole who released me to use the phone. "Stahl wanted them in for questioning and that's the only way we could get them here." He replied smugly. "They were together so it was the perfect opportunity." I noticed Jax tense up in anger at the man's response. "ATF doesn't call the shots around here, son.” Unser sneered. “Presley and Gemma are free to go and are not to be bothered. Do you understand me?” "ATF outranks any small-town official, Chief." Unser made his way closer to the man, finally coming face-to-face with him. "That may be true in other places but not in my town, detective." The two had a stare off before Unser told the guy that we were both free to go once again. As I was leaving, I made sure to look at the guy who caused so much trouble, even offering him a smirk as I crossed into the other room. Jax was hot on my tail as we exited the police station together. Once we were outside, I noticed that he had drove his truck over instead of his bike. I was in desperate need of a ride home and I didn't feel like bothering Matt with all the drama at this point. I was beginning to think that it would be best not to tell him what had just happened. "You need a lift home?" Jax soon spoke once we reached the truck. "Yeah, that would be great." I gave him a small smile. I placed my hand in his as he opened the passenger door, helping me into the tall vehicle. I couldn't help but laugh as he ran around the car, flipping his reaper cap around in the process. I always loved it when he wore that stupid cap. He even got Wyatt one so they could twin out on different occasions. "Neeta said that she would look at Wyatt for a little longer today if you want to rest for a while. I can even drop him off tonight, whichever works best for you." I just nodded my head as the trucks engine roared to life. As we traveled to the house, I struggled to find the right words to say when it came to telling Jax about how Matt felt about the other night. "Jax-"I began as I turned in my seat. "We need to talk about a few things." Confusion replaced the content look that he had on his face. "The other night when you came over-"I stuttered. "Well, Matt wasn't too happy about that. He found it kind of rude that you just helped yourself into the house, even though I told him that you knocked. He's just worried that his parents are gonna disapprove of him because-"

I stopped midsentence as I tried to find the right words once again.

"Because of what, Presley." Jax interjected. I watched as the houses and tree passed us by as I struggled to search for the right words. "Because you’re still in my life." The words escaped before I could register what I had said. I looked over at him, noticing that he was as still as a statue. I wanted to tell him that I was perfectly okay with him still being in my life but I decided to just stay quiet. I then started to mentally kick myself for even telling him all of this to begin with. I should have just kept my mouth shut and enjoyed the ride home. Ever since our divorce was finalized, Jax and I would remain close. For starters, we shared a son together and wanted to do what was best for him. I couldn't ever imagine separating the two of them or would I ever think to do so. They were like two peas in a pod and I loved that Jax was such a hands-on dad. When his car pulled into the driveway, all I could do was sit there. I watched out of the corner of my eye as he placed the car in park and hastily got out. He made his way around the car and quickly opened my door. "Are you getting out?" He huffed out as he stood there impatiently. I looked up at him, fighting with myself over what to tell him. "Presley, I don't have all day." I finally gave in and got out of the truck, standing in the way so he couldn't close the door just yet. "I don't feel the way Matt does.” I spoke. “I love having you in my life and in our son's life." He rolled his eyes. "I'm serious Jackson!" I said a bit harsher. "I don't know what I would do if you weren't in our lives. Our lives wouldn't be the same." He refrained from looking at me, choosing to stare at the house instead. I decided to finally move away from the door since this wasn't going how I planned in my head. "I'll have Neeta drop Wyatt off tonight." He slammed the car door shut, causing me to jump in surprise. I watched as he made his way back around the truck, not even offering a goodbye as he started the engine. I slowly made my way up the stairs and into the house as he fled out of the driveway. I thought I had felt shitty before but I was feeling even worse now…. It had been a few days since I last seen or even heard from Jax. Gemma would pick Wyatt up and drop him off every day that he didn't stay the night. Every time she would come, the issue between Jax and I would be brought up but I had nothing to tell her. In my defense, I didn't do anything wrong. I had told Jax the truth but he was being the stubborn one.I didn't need that kind of stress this late in my pregnancy. I was so stressed out over the whole Jax debacle that I grew more and more behind in my work. I had several cakes and pastries that needed to be done by a certain date and I had yet to get any of them accomplished. The poor girls at the shop probably thought I had abandoned them. When I got to the bakery, the place was packed with customers. The shelves and cases were stocked with fresh goodies and the girls looked as if they were handling things nicely. "Oh thank God, she's back." A voice shot out from behind the counter before Nicole, my head cookie maker, came running towards me. She instantly wrapped her arms around my neck, almost strangling me in the process. I couldn't help but laugh as I hugged her back, ignoring the looks of the customers waiting for their treats. "We were about to send out a search party for you but Jax told us you weren't feeling great." I pulled away from her grasps and gave her a look. "When did you see Jax?" I questioned. She had told me that Jax and Wyatt had stopped by yesterday for some cookies before heading back to the garage. "Wyatt looks just like his father."

I just nodded my head, still a bit confused, as I gave her a smile and headed towards the back. "Pres?" Nicole appeared again. "There's a couple of ladies out here requesting your services." I quickly put my bag down on my desk and waddled my way out into the public. Standing at the counter was the girl I hated most and the woman responsible for her career. "Luanne." I spoke. The older woman gave me a smile as Ima the Slut stood there as if she was God's gift to men. I couldn't help but mentally shake my head at her choice of outfit. She was in a public place wearing the shortest shorts imaginable and a shirt that was showing that she decided not to wear a bra today. Her hair was all perfect as was her makeup, so I figured she was on her way to work. "How you doing, Presley." She asked sympathetically. I had always liked Luanne but I didn't agree with her business ventures. She was a nicer version of Gemma but I feel as if she would drop you like a bat if given the chance. "I'm doing pretty good; Just trying to enjoy the rest of my pregnancy." She gave me a smile while Ima stood there looking uninterested. "What can I get the two of you." I finally asked. I made my way back around the counter seeing as they were probably here to order something. "I don't know if you heard or not but Ima's movie is gonna be released in a few days and I want you to make a cake for the party." This was defiantly a first. I had made personal cakes for Luanne in the past but this would be the first time I made one for a porno. "I was thinking that it would be a chocolate cake with hot pink icing and maybe some kind of saying or design." I watched as her eyes lit up as she explained the look of the cake. "It needs to be sexy yet classy since that's the kind of business I run." I just nodded my head, continuing to write down her ideas. "Ima, do you have anything to add?" I looked up as Ima's eyes connected with mine. She slowly looked up from her manicured nails, her eyes searing into my soul, "Just don't fuck it up."… I finally decided to call it a day a little after 8 that night.

I was almost caught up with all my orders but Ima's cake was still in the process of being designed. I had no idea how I was gonna make a cake look sexy but I would try my best to please the porn queen. Gemma had decided that she was gonna keep Wyatt for the night so I could enjoy a night of quiet. I gathered up all my things and began to close the shop. I made sure to turn the lights off, which I have left on all night in the past, and closed the door behind me. As I was locking up, I noticed a few men moving into the store beside of mine. "Good evening miss.” A grey-headed man waved from the store front. “Good evening.” I greeted, clutching my bag closer to my body as he approached. "Looks as if we are going to be neighbors." He spoke with a smile. “Seems so. ”I looked around at the men who surrounded the owner. They wore white button up shirts with jeans, their hair cut in a buzzed fashion. “Impeccable Smokes?” I questioned the name. He looked at me, smirk falling onto his face. “Cigar shop.” I nodded my head at his explanation. “Heard some folks around charming like a good cigar now and again. I figured the best place to set up shop is right next door to Charming’s favorite bakery.” I couldn’t help but feel a bit uncomfortable as his eyes stared into mine. At this point, all of his men had stopped working and were now honing in on our conversation. “Well-“ I cleared my throat. “Welcome to the neighborhood, Mr-“ “Zobelle.”

#Jax Teller #jax teller fanfiction #jax teller imagine #Charlie Hunnam #SOA #sons of anarchy #sons of anarchy fanfiction #Jackson Teller #sons of anarchy imagine

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talietikasero · 4 years ago

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Aria of the Sol

So, this is a preview (with brief context before each scene) for something I’ve been working on for a while. This is a “what if" scenario following the "Aria was revived” ending (/ original implication?). Set in the three-week gap between Revelator and Strive.

[Check it out on AO3]

Scene 1 (Chapter 1): Aria wakes up in the hospital and meets her daughter and son-in-law. [Inspired by “Ch’io mi scordi di te?” by rex101111]

[November 25. Illyrian Royal Medical Center, Patient Room 107. 11:02 am] Approximately five days had passed since she was checked in as a patient. If only she knew the collective shock from the medical staff and those who were waiting to visit their family members when they saw her unconscious form being brought into the facility by Sol nearly kicking the doors off, who had Ky and Sin trailing right behind. Those standing outside were treated to the sight of the Gullinkambi Dark acting as the group's transport, with Daryl's fleet right behind as they were all returning to Eastern Illyria.

“She gonna be alright?”

“Let’s hope so.”

“You’re good to go, Johnny. Thanks for the lift.”

“Anytime.”

“Daryl, drop the girls at my home. Dizzy will be waiting outside.”

“Understood.”

Inside her head, memories of who she was started flooding in from two clashing sources. Source A had recent memories about her days figuring out what it’s like to be human. People tracking her down, one annoyed she got away, another insisting she take off the mask so he could see her face. Source B saw nothing but death and destruction, whether it was from her hands or not. Humanity hated her for this, but she didn’t care. Those foolish “knights" who dared oppose her. That grumpy old man who, against all odds, survived fighting her on seventeen different occasions. Out of those eleven brave souls who participated in the tournament that led to her release, one stood above the rest. When she saw him, it was then that she remembered herself —who they were – before taking her final breath.

“H… How could I have forgotten you? If only we could have talked one last time… Just the three of us…”

“…Justice…? That’s right… The man who created us… our boss! I won’t rest until you lie writhing in agony before me!!”

Vision hazy, she stood alone in a void that seemed all too familiar before seeing two others in front of her. This strange woman with a halo and a pumpkin motif who mirrored her in physical appearance down to the face simply smiled, where the armored monster who she admittedly was frightened by stood idly and stared before nodding. They faced each other, joining their hands before merging as one. She saw her own reflection, still dressed in her researcher clothes. Her identity became clear.

She is Aria Hale, one of the key researchers assigned to the Gear Project.

Various figures and faces she couldn’t put names to appear one by one, two of which appeared to be her old colleagues still dressed in their white lab coats. She wanted to call out to them before refraining as they changed into strange attire. One was covered from head to toe in a hooded robe that looked more like a straitjacket than anything, where the other was clad in red, black, and white, and was the reason for her demise seven years prior. Was this truly how they were in her absence? Everything suddenly went blinding white.

Aria had regained consciousness. Nose crinkling at the sterile "lemon" scent, her eyes slowly opened to see the dimmed fluorescent light above. "Nnnngh, where am I?" Her sudden awakening startled the nurse who was doing her hourly check-in, causing her to rush out the door and call for one of the main physicians. Whoops. Curious about her surroundings, she saw that she was dressed in a light blue hospital gown and had been hooked up to a system that tracked her life signs. This wasn’t the project complex infirmary. Where exactly was she?

When the nurse returned following a doctor, Aria apologized for the unintended scare, to which the latter understood and said she overreacted. After a series of questions regarding any possible issues and if she had any dietary restrictions, the doctor had another staff member bring her something to eat and drink. She wasn’t listening to what they were discussing but did catch “well now that she’s up, please contact his majesty.”

[1:15 pm]

“That was unexpected.” The breakfast she ate wasn’t the subpar hospital food she recalled from back then. Rather, she was given a bowl of freshly chopped fruits, some toast and berry cream cheese, and a mug of coffee with sweet cinnamon cream and sugar mixed in. As an afternoon treat, she was also left a fruit tart, along with a kettle of hot water, a small assortment of tea, and two cups.

Aria was passing time with a copy of the local newspaper in hand while the radio played music, trying to wrap her head around what she was reading. The main story reported that there was this worldwide battle ranging from Illyria to the Japanese Colony. The article detailed various heroes fighting against someone named Ariels's forces; assassins, pirates, a doctor (with a paper bag on his head? What in the hell), some soldiers (oh my god just how large is that man with the helm?), and... is that a girl with wings? What exactly did she miss? Despite not knowing who this blue-haired girl was, she couldn't help but feel a little proud of her, reading the positive things the people were saying. "She saved my life!"

"She refused to abandon us."

"She's like an angel! No, a goddess!”

“If she were Queen, she’d make a perfect match for King Ky.” The hospital's usual noise of medical staff chatting or yelling life-saving orders, wheels on carts and beds rolling, and footsteps were present, but she heard what sounded like a group of people headed towards her room. She folded the paper and placed it on the table next to her bedside, figuring she'd finish reading it later. If there was something that caught her attention, it was the weekly news recap radio broadcast stating that the Gear Maker has turned himself in.

“The ‘Gear Maker’… Asuka’s been arrested?”

"Ah, here we are."

"Thank you."

"Thanks, doc."

"This is exciting! I can't wait to meet her." Was her head playing tricks on her? Those muffled voices on the other side of the door sound familiar yet entirely foreign. Still listening, she saw herself in the mirror the nurse had left earlier. "Well, if they come in here, I can't look disheveled." She lowly muttered as she touched up her appearance; it wasn't too bad, just a light sign of tiredness (she wanted a haircut too.) “…When did my hair become… two-tone…?”

First, she heard a soft, feminine voice. "I think it'd be best if she saw you first. I don't want to scare her. D-don't give me that look, Dad!" Scare her? How could that happen when she'd already seen the worst horrors imaginable?

"Dizzy, look at me. You're not scary. But I see what you're getting at." Whoever the second person in this conversation was, she could sense they were reassuring her of something. It sounded like they were together in some way. "I think she'd be happy to see you." Her eyes widened as the third voice caught her off guard. Is that who she thinks it is? Is it really ---? "Incredible, Sol. Your soft side is showing." "Shut it, Ky." Dizzy? Sol? Ky? Who are these people? "I'd say it's normal to forget someone from before, but you know all three of them. Or at least I did. ~" Who the hell was that? Now there's a voice in her head? Great. She just wanted to sleep again and tell those three to come back later. Now was not the time for having to get answers for every question that may pop up. "Heh. Doctor, could you do the honor?" "Oh, of course." There was a gentle knock on the door. "Ma'am?" "Y-yes?" Aria put the mirror away and adjusted her blanket. "You have a couple of visitors. Is it okay to come in?" "Yes. Please enter." The sound of the door slowly creaking open was harsh compared to the steady beeps of her vitals monitors. She wondered who would step in first but kept her hopes at bay. A blond young man dressed in blue and white was the first to enter. Had she seen him somewhere before? He was older now but lacked the fierce and determined gaze she remembered. Neutral bordering on welcoming, this man bowed as he introduced himself. "Good afternoon, madam. My name is Ky Kiske. I'm the King of Illyria." Oh god, what did she do? How was she supposed to greet royalty, let alone the man who's in charge of everything? Unsure of how to do so, she politely nodded and smiled. "Pleased to meet you, your highness. To what do I owe the honor of a visit?" "It's been a few days but what a relief it is to see you're awake. I hope you don’t mind as my wife wanted to come along, and we brought an old ‘friend’ of yours." "I appreciate the concern." "We're sorry to show up unannounced, but we came as soon as we could." Dizzy was the second to enter the room, taking a seat close to her. "I know this may come off as a shock, but it's nice to finally meet you, Mom." Aria took a moment to study Dizzy's appearance. Features remarkably like her own, mainly in the eyes and face shape. Long blue hair tied with yellow ribbons, a tail, red eyes, and wings. The realization hit her like a freight train as this was who she had just read about. This heroine, the queen, was her daughter. How the child of two stressed-out scientists from over one hundred and seventy years ago ended up as one of the most powerful women on Earth is an answer for another time. For now, she was trying to think of a conversation starter. “Nice to meet you too.”

“It wasn’t until our college years that I met your father.”

“You two weren’t high school sweethearts?”

“If we knew each other back then, something might’ve come out of it. He is two years older than I am.”

“Oh. So, with that if you were a sophomore, he was a senior?” Dizzy may have the mind of a woman in her mid- to late-twenties, but she never had the chance to attend an actual school. She did have an idea about how education systems worked.

“Precisely, though I might’ve been bumped up to the same student standing now that I think about it. Though that would’ve been unlikely as I earned my PhD in my late teens. Our studies differed, with my focus on cytology, and his in magic particle physics, but the two of us were recruited to work for the same project group after graduating. He was confused as to how I could be interested in someone like him – an extrovert and an introvert, respectively. Aside from me and our mutual colleague, he didn’t have very many friends – if any at all.” Aria noticed the expression on Ky’s face, indicating that he already knew about her partner’s lack of social skills. “I guess he wanted to be around me so much that he asked to be transferred to the team I was with, rather than work on his original assignment. All jokes aside, it was really because of how much significance the project held. I think he was tasked on researching some powerful spell. Saint Oratorio, I believe it was called.”

Dizzy turned to Ky, asking something that popped into her head. “Isn’t that what they fired that day?” Ky nodded, remembering the argument on if another energy blast should’ve been used or not. Aria noticed the couple sneaking in a quick glance at the door, then exchanging a knowing look at each other.

“Excuse me for a second.” Ky rose from his seat and headed out the door. “Get in here and talk to her, you moron!”

“I told you I’d go in when I was ready!”

“And when would that be, huh?”

“When you and Dizzy left! Let go of me! AGH!”

The door swung open with Ky dragging a familiar face into the room by the lapel of his jacket. Dark brown hair, olive skin, and those bold rectangular eyes she vividly remembers. The world knew him by a nom de guerre – Sol Badguy. His real identity wasn’t common knowledge, only being known by a handful of individuals – Asuka, Paradigm, presumably Ky, Leo, and the Valentines, and her. He displayed no significant signs of aging despite the time that passed since she last saw him, still appearing to be in his mid-twenties. Aria’s grip on the blanket tightened as she murmured his name. “…Frederick?”

____________________________________

Scene 2: After being discharged from the hospital, Dizzy takes Aria out on a shopping trip. Aria meets a friendly time traveler.

[December 2. Downtown Shopping District. 12:15 pm]

“Let’s get going. There’s more shops to browse."

Although the public started to trust her, Dizzy and Aria went out with two members of the Convict Hammer team as their escort. Thankfully, the citizens were nice enough to give the Queen her space and greeted her whenever she passed by. There were some who gave her “thank you” gifts, ranging from goody baskets filled with sweets and teas to flowers and handmade trinkets, all of which were given to their escorts to carry.

Weather today was a cool 60 degrees Fahrenheit, slightly overcast with scattered clouds. Aria recalled something regarding her accessory choice on a past date. “You gotta be some kind of eccentric to wear a hat on a day like today.” The promenade was bustling with the usual crowds, some people were getting ideas for what gifts to buy for those special in their lives as Christmas was approaching. Aria noticed a family of three walking past a toy store, seeing the child point out what was in the window to their parents. Glancing at Dizzy, who was busy meeting and greeting the people she protected during the recent attacks, she thought to herself “if only I – no, we were there for you back then. That could’ve been the three of us.” It made her chuckle that their escort had to explain everyone needed to wait their turn to speak with her daughter – she is technically a celebrity.

Aria couldn’t shake the feeling of being watched. She stood still, noticing everything froze similarly to that fateful day. Out of nowhere, a man with long blond hair, wearing a blue shirt, black pants, a varsity jacket, and a black bandana appeared next to her. His sudden presence nearly made her jump out of her skin. Just like Ky, Aria vaguely remembers seeing him before too. He simply smiled and waved in a friendly manner. “You have nothin’ to worry about. Name’s Axl. I’m a friend of Fre—I mean, Sol’s.” One more person to add to the list of who knows his real name. “He asked me to check on you today. Glad to see you’re doing well.”

Aria blinked at him owlishly. “I’m sorry but did you just say check on me?”

“Yeah, he’s got other business to attend to – can’t say exactly what it is either.” He shrugged, giving her a look that she couldn’t decipher. “He told me to tell you he’s sorry for being gone, but he did add something about making it up to you. We’ll meet again sometime.” Axl raised his right hand, making a peace sign. “See ya ‘round, Ari.”

“W-wait!” Time resumed, leaving her standing in the middle of the sidewalk confused about what she just heard. She tried to find Axl, her head turning to all possible directions, and no trace of him was to be seen as if he vanished into thin air. Her motions bordered on frantic as some passersby gave her puzzled looks. “He doesn’t have the decency to see me in person, yet he sends a friend to say hi and watch over me. Sometimes, I just don’t understand you, Frederick…”

“Madam Hale, is everything alright?” One Convict Hammer asked regarding her wellbeing. “You seem like something's troubling you.”

“I’m fine, really. I spaced out for a bit.” Aria rubbed the back of her neck in attempt to brush aside what just happened. “Sorry.”

____________________________________

Scene 3: Ky takes Aria to the castle. She meets the other Kings and has something to ask one of them.

[December 3. Illyria Castle War Room, 9:45 am]

“The last time I saw this many people staring at screens and tapping away at keys was during a project crunch.” Coffee cup in hand, Aria commented on the operator crew stationed around what looked like a throne on the lower floor. “It was either from a sooner deadline or everyone just decided to make last minute changes on their data. It wasn’t odd to see at least one or two people running down the complex’s halls with a sizeable stack of papers.”

“Not too different from the crew here, but what can you do? We’re only human. Normally, civilians aren’t allowed in here, but I’ll make an exception.”

“He’s right about the ‘no civilian' policy.” A boisterous voice came from the burly man that approached them. “Ky, who is this?”

“Aria, this is Leo Whitefang, the Second King. Leo, this is Aria Hale. You know, my mother-in-law and you-know-who’s partner.”

She nervously smiled at him. “Hi?” Fitting name considering he has a hairstyle reminiscent of a lion’s mane. He towered over them, standing with a sturdy frame at six feet and five inches. She noticed the difference in the two kings’ fashion choices; Ky wore lighter clothes with his jacket placed over his shoulders, where Leo had a heavy coat with a furry lining.

“Oh, my apologies.” Leo apologizing wasn’t something anyone saw often. He gave Ky a side-eyed glare. “A heads up would’ve been nice.”

“One of the few times I decide to drop by, and the God of War's better half is here.” A man who looked to be exactly the midpoint of Ky and Leo's age gap approached the three, briefly bowing as he stood near them. “Good morning, Ms. Hale.”

"Daryl?" Kiske and Whitefang asked in unison. “What are you doing here?”

“With the G4 summit next week, I thought I’d at least consult with you two in person before I go. It’d be a terrible idea if all three of us went, wouldn’t you agree?”

Aria wondered what the Three Kings had for a planned course of action regarding the conference. At the moment, she remembered what she and Ky had discussed on the trip to the castle. She tapped his shoulder and leaned in to whisper “did you forget my idea?”

“Ah, right. That’s one of the reasons why I brought you here. Leo, Aria has something to ask.”

“And that would be?” She didn’t speak, only bumping her fists together. “You want us to do what now?" Leo asked as he crossed his arms. He had an idea of what she meant but would rather hear it from her. "Teach me how to fight. I can't be reliant on others to defend me." "Okay." Ky chimed in. "Okay!?! You're telling me that the woman who used to be Just--- OW!" Aria punched Leo in the stomach as hard as she could. "Don't call me that."

“AUGH! Was that necessary!?” Ky couldn't help but laugh at Leo's expense. "And we're off to a good start. Look at it this way, it's not like we’re placing her in a big role like Ramlethal."

"Dammit, bambino! You have a point. Fine. Report back here at 0900 tomorrow. Your training will begin then." Leo’s communicator went active. Holding a finger up to his ear, he answered and looked towards the hallway. “Hm? Yeah. Alright, I’ll be right there. I’ll get you access.” Click. “That was Ram. Did you not authorize her entry to the armory?” Ky shook his head – the task referred to was Leo’s job. “Before I go, what’s your preferred style? Sword? Shield? Bare hands?”

“You’ll find out when you start teaching me.” Aria replied with a hint of playful snark.

“You really are Sol’s girlfriend.” As Leo walked away, Aria turned to see what looked to be a girl wearing a white body-length cape with red bandages on her left limbs waiting for him. The mysterious girl seemed to be hovering a few inches off the ground and was accompanied by two small flying creatures.

“He’s a bit of a hardass, but you learn to tolerate it.”

“I heard that! There’s a multitude of reasons you’re not as popular as us and that’s one of them!”

“See what I mean. Also, this is for you.“ Daryl handed Aria a medium sized gift bag with pink and purple tissue paper sticking out. Printed with an art nouveau floral pattern, there was a sun emblem on the lower right corner, not-so subtly hinting at who dropped it off. “I didn’t know which flavor you’d like, so I put both chocolate and strawberry desserts inside, on top of your actual gift. Don’t worry, I didn’t look.”

[Kiske Residence, Aria’s room. 5:15 pm]

“If you ever stop by, I hope you like what I picked out…” Aria placed the folded bag in the drawer and slid it shut. She looked to the closet where the other clothing she bought was stored, including a dress and hat like what she owned in the past. Hopefully, she’ll be able to wear it sometime.

“Ram, are you sure about this? We haven’t introduced ourselves yet! She might think we’re being rude.”

“I’m certain, El. At least let me try and speak with her. I’m only the messenger here.”

“Hey, are ya talking about Sol’s gal? Ya know, I was the first Valentine’s companion.”

“Ugh, stay out of this, you big balloon creep!”

“Lucifero. Self-destruct. Why must you follow me everywhere?”

“You’re getting better at this whole showing emotion thing, but you’re terrible at small talk! …okay. I’ll be waiting in our room until you’re done.”

Following the fading footsteps, a rhythmic knock-knock-knock preceded a monotone voice. “Miss Aria? May I come in?”

“It's unlocked.” Her attention was turned to the same young girl from this morning standing in the doorway. She wore a dark blue and white sailor dress with a mint green bow, had amber eyes, brown skin, and cream white hair. “I don’t think we’ve met before, but you’re Ramlethal, right?”

“Of course you two have met! Just not like this! ~”

“Correct. As you may have learned, I am a Valentine, and as such my sister and I were created from you.”

“’Valentine'? Created… from… me?”

“Mother used you as a template for our existence. I can see why now but telling you this isn’t why I’m here.”

“Then why are you? Do you… want to chat? You look like you could use someone to talk to.”

Ramlethal's blank expression shifted to a soft smile. “Perhaps another time, but there’s something I have to do first.” She walked up to Aria and hugged her. “This is from him. Thank you for returning. Sol is much happier than he was before.” She let go and left, gently closing the door behind her.

Aria stood there dumbfounded at what had just occurred. “He’s… happier?”

She took a seat at the desk where she placed her gift from earlier. Her curiosity got the best of her, and she decided to open it. “I know it’s from you, but what exactly did you get me?” Removing the tissue paper and the extra gift desserts, she pulled out a black box. Placed inside was a brown teddy bear dressed as Sol – removable headband included – holding a heart and rose, along with a card that had “to Aria” written on it. Opening it, she read the message.

“Cute plushie, isn’t he? I got this custom made just for you. Even comes with a change of clothes: a purple shirt, black slacks, and a lab coat. Hope you’re not too worried about me. I promise I’ll see you soon. Okay? 🖤”

Aria finally has friends and family, yet without Frederick, she felt alone. Opening the container with the strawberry pudding, she picked up a spoon, and placed a scoop of the sweet in her mouth. “I’ll hold you to that… Really wanted to share this with you too.”

____________________________________

Scene 4: Aria meets her other genetic copy and her grandson. Song used: “Pirates” by Caravan Palace.

[December 5. 6:30 pm]

Reorganizing her belongings, the soft melody from the song currently playing on the phonograph filled the room.

Do me, beauty. Rock me up, yup go once again. Hug me, beauty. Oop, the way this life is clearing into my brains. Fool me, beauty. Let me think of home once again. Hear me, beauty. You gotta hide away the secret of your low bone this man.

“Miss Aria. It’s me, Ram. Can I come in?”

“Of course.”

“I hope I’m not intruding on anything.” Ramlethal was carrying her puppy in her arms to keep it from barging in.

“You weren’t. I was just cleaning up. What brings you to my room?”

“I, uh, wanted to tell you I think your skills are developing nicely.” She chose her words carefully, trying not to sound off-putting. Holding a conversation is something she’s still working on. “I had some downtime and observed again.”

Aria's training today consisted of testing her agility and competence to read and react to opponents. During a brief cooldown period, she did notice the small group of people watching included more. “Who were those two standing next to you, Dizzy, and the others?”

“My younger sister and your grandson. They’re,” Ram paused for a second, “actually waiting outside because they would like to talk to you as well.”

Aria's attention went to the open door, seeing a grey-haired girl and a blond boy with an eyepatch sticking their heads in. “Come on in, you two.”

Elphelt and Sin entered, both taking note of how grand the royal residence's guest room was designed. The younger Valentine was nowhere near as reserved as her sister when it came to talking about something – the first thing that came out of her mouth after seeing Hale was “oh, she’s even prettier in person! I see where Miss Dizzy got her looks from! And by extension, me!”

“Like looking into a mirror, isn’t it? Even more so since you got a new hairdo. ~”

“Weirdly familiar, like I’ve seen you before.” Sin poked his chin, trying to recall. “I remember now, there was the first one with the winged hat who tried to kill the Old Man! She had a freaky Gear form and managed to brainwash me for a bit too. But I can tell you aren’t her since she’s gone.” He was jabbed in the arms by the sisters. “Ouch, what was that for!?”

“You had a brain to begin with, you dope?!”

“El, don’t be rude!”

As the three were fighting amongst themselves, Aria found herself thinking “what in the hell happened.”

[7:43 pm]

“I’m glad I had the chance to speak with you. Is this what is referred to as ‘therapy'?”

“I wouldn’t exactly call it that, but let’s say yes for the time being. Hey, what’s wrong? Was it something I said?”

“N-no. It wasn’t. You just seem more like a mother to me than my ‘actual' one. I am aware I’m not human, and she created me as an emotionless doll she threw away when I had no further use.” Ramlethal tried to soothe herself by smoothing out her bandages. Part of her wanted to tell Aria about what happened in Scandiva, yet she couldn’t bring herself to do so. Her magehound started snuggling next to her, sensing the mood drop. “She… she called me a failure.”

Aria grabbed a tissue and wiped the tear that ran down Ram's cheek. After disposing of it – and picking up the Sol bear – she kneeled in front of the Valentine, holding the plush in front of her own face. Using one of the bear's limbs to tap her knee, she had her attention. “Listen to me. She’s the failure, not you.”

Peeking up from behind the toy, Aria was treated to the sight of her genetic copy struggling to keep herself from giggling.

____________________________________

Scene 5 (Chapter 2): Day trip date. Aria brings up a very sensitive subject later that night. (Note: this was written with the game’s implication of a pregnancy. Also, I did some level of research and figured the stage I picked is approximately where Italy's Amalfi Coast is.)

[December 9. L'oro di Illyria. 5:45 pm]

A few hours later, they went for a leisurely trip down south, dressed in their best attempts at incognito clothing. Emphasis on attempt as the suppressor was a dead giveaway (it was worth a shot). Aria was wearing that dress and hat she purchased a week prior, paired with leggings, fuzzy boots, and a warm winter coat. A callback to how he dressed himself in the past, Frederick was wearing a black button-up shirt with a tank top underneath, dark blue jeans, and a pair of Chelsea boots. He also had a mid-long jacket that she brought along just in case, placed under the sidecar’s seat.

“Oh, I remember this place! Heaven’s Edge! It’s where we met for the first time after I left the Sanctuary to get some fresh air. Ah, memories. ~ Or am I remembering wrong? Those sword monoliths look very familiar.”

There’s that childlike voice again. It changed to a mature tone mid-sentence.

“Just who are you? And how can your voice change like that!?”

“Oops, I’m sorry. You see, I’m the previous owner of your current body. My name is J—”

Before this disembodied voice could say her name, Aria’s attention went elsewhere. “You alright?”

“Uh, yeah. This isn’t what I thought you meant by going out, but at least the trip here was fun.” The highway they took was through inner Italy and had passed through numerous towns, of which contained convenience shops to obtain refreshments here and there. “Built that bike yourself, didn’t you?”

“Designed for one so that’s why I made a sidecar for you.”

“Can it turn into a minibike if I wanted it to?”

“What? You’re psychic now? I’m still working on that part.”

“Hey, chief! Ari!”

“Axl? What are you doing here?”

“I was in the area. Thought I’d drop by and say ‘ello. Almost didn’t recognize the two of ya.” He wasn’t used to seeing Frederick, let alone anybody, in anything so casual. Aria, on the other hand, wore that dress nicely. He couldn’t help but feel a slight hint of sadness, as the last woman he saw in a similar clothing article was M— he mentally shook his head and put on a smile. “That outfit looks lovely. Ain’t you a lucky guy?”

“Thank you. Nice to see you in real time and not during a time freeze.”

“Ah, yeah. I wanted to avoid trying to talk in a crowd. My bad if you were annoyed by my choice.” Axl had the power to jump to any point in time and any dimension, yet he’s been frequently visiting for some reason only he knows. “I got something to tell you.”

“I could use a quick snack.” Aria wasn’t paying attention to Low and spotted the outdoor marketplace, noticing the large ship cruising by. “I’ll be over by that fruit vendor. Don’t be too long, alright?”

As Aria left, the two men watched her reach into her purse, taking out a few W$ to purchase an apple. It amused them as she tried to fight the kind vendor about giving her a free apple, insisting that she pay for it as it’s only fair for business. Not only did she end up with a free fruit, but she was also given a bag containing two additional and a bottle of cream soda with a straw. She didn’t look back at them; her attention went to admiring the colorful cliffside residential buildings.

“Do you think I could get a free piece of fruit and a drink too or is she a special case?”

“You might scare the living daylight out of him.”

[9:15 pm]

"So, um, about Dizzy." Aria clasped her hands together and twiddled her thumbs, avoiding eye contact while staring at the paved stone walkway. "I was trying not to bring her up, but what about her?" "I..." She took a deep breath and collected her thoughts. "I didn't know how to tell you." She didn't hear a response, worrying her about what Frederick was thinking. A moment later, she felt a hand rubbing her back, taking this as a sign that he's listening while trying to soothe her. "I already experienced how you reacted when I told you I was sick with that infection, but I didn't want to make that worse by telling you you're going to be a father. I don’t recall how far along I was, but you shouldn’t have had to live with knowing you’ll never see your unborn after I was gone either." He remained quiet a bit longer before reaching to wrap his arm around and pull her closer. Not too suddenly as he didn't want to give off the wrong idea, but once he saw her ease into him, he placed a kiss on the crown of her head. “Do you remember your birthday where I showed you that programming ‘error'?”

“You mean the ring? Of course I do. I didn’t mind that you didn’t have the real one because your method was so cute. It was so… you. If neither of us killed the mood, I would’ve told you I was looking forward to changing my name to Aria Bulsara.”

“I’d be lying if I said I didn't occasionally think of some alternate time where we truly settled down. We were still scientists and met under the same circumstances, but there was no Gear project or magic, and you didn't have an illness. Or at least one you didn't tell me about near your last days." "Wha--... really?" "Yeah. Then all this shit happened." His voice was deceptively calm, yet she could sense the rage beneath it all. "My conversion and the resulting amnesia, your conveniently timed 'disappearance', and the destruction of the complex with countless deaths were the beginning." "Then decades later I lost control of my mind and body and waged war against the world. That stubborn geezer never quit, but then Ky and you showed up to seal 'me' away. I don't think I felt it, but during my imprisonment, that's when I gave birth?" "Sounds about right. We're living in one of those stories I used to read when I was bored. The reader turns out to be the hero, where someone very close to them was used as a twist villain."

____________________________________

Scene 6 (Chapter 3): Aria takes up the offer of becoming a bounty hunter, taking up the alias “Luna". Her new outfit is a blue, black, and white version of Sol's, with a pair of blue goggles in place of a headband. Song used: “Seven Seas of Rhye” by Queen.

[December 10. Somewhere in the Illyrian outskirts. Midday.]

“No targets today, so do you wanna just relax? I think there’s a beach just up ahead.”

“We’ve been on the road for a few hours, so a rest period at a beach sounds perfect right now.” She noticed what song was currently playing, having already passed the bridge. “Oh, I know this one! It’s one of my favorites.” Clearing her throat, she began singing along. “Storm the master-marathon, I’ll fly through.”

He couldn’t help but smile and continue. “By flash and thunder-fire and I'll survive (I'll survive, I'll survive).”

“Then I'll defy the laws of nature and come out alive,” she pointed a finger at him. “Then I'll get you!”

“Be gone with you, you shod and shady senators.”

“Give out the good, leave out the bad evil cries.”

He clenched his fist and held it up. “I challenge the mighty Titan and his troubadours.”

She placed her index fingers at the ends of her mouth. “And with a smile.”

He pointed towards the shore of the Tyrrhenian Sea as they sang the last line together. “I'll take you to the Seven Seas of Rhye!”

[Nighttime.]

A cool 55 degrees, the night sky was clear as the stars strewn throughout were in full display. They sat by a bonfire, sharing drinks and leaning back against the Firewheel Mk.2, enjoying the other's company. There was a brief squabble on whether they should find an actual motel room to stay in for the night, with Aria winning as she convinced Frederick to sleep in a bed as opposed to the ground.

Fire crackling paired with sounds from the nearby wildlife, she thought of a conversation topic. “Hey, do you wanna hear something weird?”

“Shoot.”

“Before I woke up, I saw myself, Justice, and someone else.”

“Oh yeah?”

“It was unnerving. She looked just like me but had a halo and her hair was the inverse of mine. My first day at Ky and Dizzy's, I scrounged around and found a cracked one that looked just like what I saw. Along with an iron mask, a crux ansata, black heels and gloves, and a white jumpsuit. It all fit me perfectly! I was considering wearing that instead of this.”

“Jack-O.”

“Huh?”

He took a drag of his cigarette, blowing the smoke out before continuing. “To bring you back, a special Valentine was made that contained the other half of your soul. Her name was Jack-O.” He butted the cigarette before tossing it into the fire. “Ram, Sin, and I chased her down before any additional damage could've been done. Then a few days later, she reappeared with Asuka, and struck a deal with us. Said something like ‘if you can get me close enough, I can fuse with Justice to revive, well, you.’ I thought they were full of it. Turned out they were telling the truth.”

“He's right! ~ I took off my mask and told him I was literally half of you. Nearly lost his mind right there. Sorry about the forced mind override, but you refused to accept it, and he wasn’t going to back down. ~”

“That explains the voice in my head. I wonder how her stuff got into my room though.”

“She’s still in there?” He gently poked her forehead. “I can imagine when you wear these, she also sees life through blue tinted lenses.”

“You’ve got puns now? I knew I should’ve gone with a pink color scheme.”

“Blue’s more your color.”

#guilty gear #aria hale #only tagging her since she's the main character of this little project #i wasn't much of a fan of ggst's story so here's my idea #this is a sol / aria story but i tried including a good amount of supporting cast #it's not perfect but i've been trying to write while doing like five other things #nat's fanfics #wip #sorry if everyone sounds even slightly ooc #i tried to get everyone's speech patterns right #even asked one of my friends and he said i did a good job #criticism welcome #i dunno when this will be done to my liking #so i'll post this preview #i'll probably receive my ao3 invite before i'm done lmao

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ofgoodmenarchive · 4 years ago

Text

Blighted Empire: 8.5

Bound by Light

Something was different.

Something was out of place.

Identifying the source of this unease was a sluggish, difficult task. Evallan attempted an intake of his surroundings, listing each detail in his mind.

Immediately he knew whatever his location, he was safe. Wrapped in blissful warmth and comfort, the world muffled by layers of blanket and a pair of strong arms. His sleeping companion was no mystery- Dorian had allowed him into his bed, no? Even if that memory eluded, the hint of fire and sweat was significant on its own.

Yet there was certainly something amiss.

We did not fall asleep like this.

He would not allow it...

Nor just that- beyond Dorian's smokey aroma the room smelled quite different from what it had. One grows accustomed to the damp within the tower, a dingy cloud lingering in every hall. It was a scent you only remember in its absence- and it was absent now- as absent as his clothes. Evallan appeared to be wearing nothing and Dorian was equally under-dressed, bare skin pressed to bare skin.

Startled, he lay stiffly and burned, trying to fathom his predicament. Eventually he realised the room was lit far brighter than Dorian's- where a window had been bricked. The ceiling here was spacious and a soothing breeze whistled through an out-of-sight opening, all fabrics and carpets dyed warm, luxurious shades.

It is me.

I am the thing out of place.

Though it wasn't terribly surprising. Cut off from the Fade, theoretically Evallan should no longer dream. Except in order to survive, he'd connected to something else- some place. With nowhere else in reach, his dreams brought him here.

Understandable. Evallan could even describe himself as grateful- almost.

Still- this timing was highly inappropriate.

Dorian's breathing was languid, tickling the side of his neck. Biting his tongue not to make a sound, Evallan scooted ever-so-carefully from the bed, determined to roll away and onto his feet without waking the man.

Luckily there was a robe hanging from the headboard. He slipped into the thin fabric, satisfied it at least covered more delicate areas. Not that it mattered- the true owner of this vessel was obviously comfortable to be seen by Dorian in such a way. It was just that Evallan found himself feeling rather intrusive.

Aimless, he padded around, blinking at paintings in the dim light, or frowning at books with titles he'd never heard of. After some time he settled at the writing desk and perused notes, finding most to be personal logs. Written by something akin to his own hand- his actualhand was clumsier in any language, than the careful Dalish script he poured over now.

The writing style was at least familiar; direct, to the point, sparing no time for frivolous detail but listing everything of importance in practical fashion. Yet he could make no sense of the information, lacking proper context for the endless descriptions, names, doodled maps...

Evallan debated searching out Amrallan's letters once more but never came to a decision.

“Mmn...Amatus...? Come back to bed...”

He froze, anxiety rendering him mute. Dorian's hand grasped at sheets, displeased by their emptiness. Since Evallan was unable to think of a response, the grumbling continued;

“Alright...either come back to bed or close the bloody balcony.”

At first he was lost- then recalled that gentle breeze. Indeed nearby was a balcony door, left ajar to reveal snowy mountains. Even in this life, his other self must find these quarters stuffy, needing a draft to counteract. Not having the same issue, Dorian required his partner to heat their shared bed.

Stepping towards the balcony, Evallan swung it closed and flipped the latch. He returned to the desk then and sat tensely, brooding at his knees.

After a short bout of silence, Dorian sighed with dramatic misery.

“...It'll be one of those nights, will it? I see how it is.”

Not really comprehending, Evallan observed from behind his hair. Dorian unfurled from the bed and instantly he looked away, cheeks flushed and lips thin.

“Bloody cold!” Thank the Gods for small mercies- Dorian also acquired a robe, saving Evallan from the shame of fighting with his own gaze.

To an extent, at least.

“So...what is it keeping us awake tonight, hrm? Orlais, the Chantry? Or maybe someone's just not doing their job?”

What to even say? Should he announce himself? Should he simply act as though nothing was wrong? While he thought and Dorian spoke the man also meandered for him, stretching and yawning, perfectly relaxed.

“Or, you're not...did you have a nightmare...?”

Thinking of his existence as a nightmare almost made Evallan laugh. He held himself.

Dorian's shadow fell over him, the other mage bending to his level with a sigh.

“Evallan...don't ignore me, now.”

Lips brushed against his and he seized, fingers clutching to arm-rests.

“...O-oh.” Dorian jerked back, laughing. “I-I'm so sorry. I didn't notice you at first.”

Aware his face was several shades of red, Evallan lifted it for Dorian to see.

“...At...first?” He hiccuped, forced composure. “How can you see any difference?”

The Tevinter snorted, leaning upon the table.

“Well, no offence to you at all, of course, but my Evallan doesn't tend to look around himself like a scared rabbit-” Choking, he hastened to add. “Not because of your ears- or anything! Your- your eyes. You stare around like a cornered mouse, or something. That's all I meant. Your ears are perfectly normal.”

Perplexed but not taking it as an insult, he nodded, considering-

“...That is not how you have described it to me before.”

“Oh?” He seemed amused by that, chortling. “And how did 'I' describe it before?”

“You said I scowl with only my eyes.”

This inspired peals of hilarity from the man- a calming sound. It gladdened Evallan to hear the same laughter he knew so intimately.

“Well- yes,” Dorian breathed out, wiping his eyes. “It is that- but behind the scowling- it's obvious you're quite terrified.”

Evallan's spine firmed, corner of his mouth tugging downwards.

“I am not afraid.” He stated in defence.

“Oh, forgive me,” Dorian rolled his eyes, teasing. “Distraught then, or stressed. Are those more appropriate descriptors for your terribly masculine ego?”

He bit the inside of his cheek to avoid sniling, muttering only-

“Yes.”

Which caused Dorian to roll his eyes again, though Evallan noted how affectionately he was regarded between these jabs.

This must be difficult for him...

A strange thought- not because of its content. Thus far it was the only internal dialogue he discerned as 'shared' between him and the quiet presence whose life he'd invaded. He was doubly compelled to express the sentiment, mumbling-

“I...am sorry. This must be very strange for you.”

“Ah, well...” Dorian shrugged, forcing nonchalance. “It's probably awful to say aloud...but I think I would be more upset if you had no idea who I am. Luckily, even when you're speaking intongues or drawing diagrams on the walls...you always seem to know me, so...”

“I still...cannot imagine that being so much of a comfort.”

“Well...” He paused with a sense of apprehension. “He is...still in there, isn't he? He just won't remember what we talked about. Or at least...that's how he explained it.”

“I hear his thoughts sometimes,” Evallan was quick to confirm, wanting to reassure. “I do not believe he 'goes' anywhere as such, no...”

“Good- that's. That's good.” Though he tried to seem unswayed the relief was obvious in his posture, relaxing with a huff.

“It really is you in an awkward situation here,” Dorian began again, snickering “I imagine waking up naked in another man's bed without alcohol to blame, was- wait, do you drink? I suppose you might.”

Evallan shook his head.

“No, I thought not. Well, my point stands then.”

Pondering it over, Evallan shook his head a second time.

“It is fine, really. We fell asleep in a similar arrangement, only, I, ah...both of us were clothed.”

“Oh.” Dorian snorted into his hand, stifling amusement- then abruptly straightened. “Wait a second! Does that mean you took my advice?”

He blinked, not comprehending.

“Your advice...?”

Sighing at Evallan as if he were the slowest man in any universe, Dorian conveyed;

“I told you to find me, remember!? To hold onto me?”

“O-oh-” Recalling, his face overheated. “I...Yes, I did follow that advice- but I...I forgot where I heard it, I think.”

“Typical!” He scoffed, full of exaggeration. “I don't get credit for anything.”

“You can have that credit now, if it means so much to you.” Evallan joked automatically.

“Careful, now,” Dorian chuckled, flashing a grin. “You don't know what sort of 'credit' I might ask for.”

He must have looked strange- for certain Evallan knew his mouth had fallen open slightly. Seeing this Dorian became apologetic, spluttering and waving his hands.

“Maker, my stupid mouth! It's easy to forget um...different stages of familiarity, and all that?”

“I-I understand.” He choked on a nervous laugh. “It is fine, really.”

“Well...” Dorian gestured around himself. “This is still your room, as far as I'm concerned, and it's a tad late for a tour of the castle. How about we go back to bed, and you can have a little rest before you're whisked off to whatever blighted world, hrm?”

“I would not mind that.” Evallan muttered, then tugged at his robe. “But...can we put on clothes?”

Dorian cackled at that, nodding.

“That would feel more appropriate, no?” He strode to a dresser, waving Evallan to follow. Once he'd done so, Dorian patted the top with a smirk.

“This is where you keep your clothes. It's actually the third time I've shown you.”

“The third?” Evallan perked a brow. “I do not remember the other times.”

“Yes, well...I say it was 'you' in a very...general sense.” His voice tilted between sadness and humour, though the sincerity of his smile never faltered. Encouraged but still skittish, Evallan dragged open one of the drawers and simply stared. In his reality he owned maybe three sets of robes, nearly identical. Looking at the plentiful folds of rich fabric, he couldn't imagine how this other self managed to dress himself in the morning.

“Need some help?” Dorian offered, leaning into his side.

“I only wanted some underclothes.” He ground out, massaging his forehead. “There is so much here...it is giving me a headache.”

Not an exaggeration- rooting around in these belongings provoked a throb in the centre of his skull, close to unbearable.

“I don't think it's that- you're looking somewhat green.”

A hand steadied him and Evallan braced against the attached arm with a grunt.

“I think...I am...” Incapable of completing a sentence, apparently. All at once his strength dissipated and he slouched into Dorian, who was steadfast in catching him.

“There he goes-” He heard the Tevinter mumble into his hair, holding close. “Don't worry, I'm here.”

His voice was the last thing Evallan heard, his careful touch the last thing he felt.

READ MORE ON AO3

#dragon age #dai #dragon age inquisition #inquisition #dragon age fanfic #dorian pavus #m!lavellan #lavellan #pavellan #apocalypse au #fanfiction #dragon age fanfiction #fanfic #writers on tumblr #dorian pavus x lavellan #i missed updating blighted i can go back to work now #my writing

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edengarden · 5 years ago

Note

Hello and if asks are still open may I have a regular match up for BNHA?

Name: Nox

Gender: FTM

Occupation: Student (16 almost 17 yrs old. Jan 4th is b-day)

Sexual orientation: Omniromantic Asexual (male/masculine leaning)

Quirk: Transformative/Mutant, "Zoologic shift" (This quirk allows the individual(s) to transform into multiple animals, but the individual has to have a emotional/special connection or feeling towards the animal and to know it's physical structure to properly shift into the said animal (mythical/made up creatures can be acquired but it is extremely difficult due to the fact of anatomy and bone structure). The user only has a limited time to be in their animal form before they start going feral, if the person is angry or has a different strong negative emotion in animal form, the fast they can become feral (once the user becomes feral they will not remember anything until they have calmed down or are somehow distracted), if the user becomes feral for too long they will not be able to transform back unless they are hurt tremendously or their hatred may take a physical form and eventually kill them from the inside (I guess look at the demons from Princess Mononoke to get an idea of what that is).)

Animals acquired: White Dire wolf, Raven, Orca, Clydesdale, Black Mamba, Barn Owl, Russian Blue House cat, Ram, Fire Dragon, Phoenix, Snake Basalisc

At least 3 positive attributes:

Empathetic (emotional and animal, riots and civil conflict bring me to tears as well as I can feel my friends' pain I and want to cuddle ever dog, cat, etc. I see)

Intelligent (at least in certain subjects like language, art, biology, and physical/hero training), serious (it may come off as intemidation but I just usually mess around)

Diplomacy (I try to avoid any physical fights that can but I will fight as a last resort)

Calm (in most situations I try to keep a level head and it works since when most people need serious help they come to you for advice or to vent)

Justful (kinda speaks for itself)

Soft Blunt and Soft Honest (I am honest with people as well as blunt, but I am not mean or hurtful when I say it)

At least 3 negative attributes:

Anger issues (even though usually calm and serious, when pushed over the edge I can become furious and using my quirk will not help at all)

Self sacrificing (since due to personal circumstances I have started to put other people above me (my friends mostly) and I would do anything, even get myself physically or emotionally hurt for them. It is sorta in a way for having approval for those I care about but mostly is just showing that I care for the people I care about)

Self deprecating with imposter syndrome (it's mostly a form of humor, but I take it far enough where people start to worry)

Dark humor (idk I just like it)

Confrontational (if someone confronts and tries to provoke me I will tell them off but never physically fight back)

Self Righteous (The righteousness is good but usually my self righteousness comes up when it comes to someone's safety or when revenge and anger cloud my judgement)

Children (I don't care for children, but I'm afraid my anger will get the best of me and I'll lash. So that's why I stay away from kids as much as possible for tr he fear of accidentally hurting innocence)

Hahahaha...daddy issues...

Hobby(ies):

Hiking in the woods

Drawing (it's usually vented or dark in some way, but sometimes I like drawing people and animals or characters)

Cosplaying

Cooking

cApTuRinG sOuLs-

Learning about Witchcraft/Supernatural/Celestial

Music Taste:

Lofi

Anti-Nightcore/Nightcore

Viking Chants

Sea Shanties

Celtic instrumentals

Death metal

Instrumental

Old Rock

Classical

Bands/song writers: Skillet, SKÁLD, Faun, Black Briar, MARETU, Steampianist, Temporex, Penelope Scott, Mirical Music, Alice Cooper, Pink Floyd, Angel Maker, Forest Music, Panic! At the Disco, MESA works design, , Harrison (not too much into bands but here are the general ones I listen too)

Appearance

Eyes: Brown/Black has bags under eyes

Hair: Red (henna dyed), it's frizzy at the tips and it's long (cab length) and thick (I hate it's length, but parents...)

Skin: Pale (warm tone)

Body type: In between Skinny and overweight, wide shoulders, actually muscular

Anything else?: Teeth have tiny canines, sometimes can have wolf ears and tail showing, kinda thick thighs-, 5'6ish, usually wearing school uniform. Hero uniform includes a black Cape with under it being a black mechanical suit that is bullet and elemental proof, boots are sharp and steel toed resembling a wolf's paw, wears a head mask that looks wolfish as well in the front but in the back of the mask has fur in the back (look towards some reference of the princess mononoke headgear) (not completely like a wolf but sorta resembles one), the mask also helps with muffled hearing and sight because I am sensitive to those things.

Traits I look for S/O: Empathetic, kind, cooperative, someone who also finds comfort in darkness or the shade, someone that knows how to take things seriously but also having a humors side, trusting and loyal, someone that can work with others (I'm usually a loner but I try to work with others), someone that would at least like to have a relationship that includes physical affection (I am a touched starved peep-), I guess someone that works, likes, or even somehow resembles an animal, some that doesn't get angry easily and is patient, introvert an extrovert doesn't matter to be (I guess if I had to choose maybe someone in between the 2?), and I guess someone that just tolerates my presence and doesn't or call me a piece of shit.

Traits I cannot be around with a S/O: Anger...I can't be around angry people because they scare me to the point I become panicked, people that work towards apathy (I may be empathetic but with someone that can't or won't return the same comfort when needed, they exhaust me), untrusting, someone who is a dick to everyone except me (it just seems suspicious and hurtful), someone who is closed minded, someone that has joy in hurting other maliciously, someone who loves bright lights/areas/lives by the sun, guess someone who wants a 24/7 therapist (again it can become exhausted and I know how it is...it isn'tthat nice.)

Star sign: Capricorn (sun), Gemini (moon), Cancer (rising)

Personality type: INTJ, Lawful Neutral

HP House: Hufflepuff that isn't afraid to kickass

Fun facts!:

I'm somewhat of an animal whisperer

Obsessed with herbs and Crystals

I know it seemed edgy with my hatred towards light, but in all honesty the late does infact bother and irritate me, especially when it's hot

Intrested in the celestial and supernatural

I look at horror and nature documentaries

I've trained my dog to come when I howl

I guess if loving spicy food counts as a fun fact then count that in

Ehhhhh...switch sub-

cAndLe bOi-

I must apologize if this is a lot, I just wanted the matchup as accurate as possible, but again thank you for having the ask box open and I hope you have a good day!

Honestly while I read your description, all I could think of was Tokoyami!

I think it’s pretty obvious why?? You two share a lot of things in common. The two of you are very calm individuals, and I can see you both being voices of reason not only to the people surrounding you, but to each other as well. In a way, I think you can even tend to challenge each other and even push (to a healthy extent) the other to become the best version of themselves.

The VIBE you two have. It’s almost too good. And while Tokoyami isn’t affectionate in public, he’d be more than happy to indulge in your starvation for touch behind closed doors! Don’t tell anyone, but he’s a straight up cuddlebug. And I can totally see him digging the spiritual/celestial stuff?? Maybe he won’t actually know anything, but he’d be so hyped if you were willing to teach him omg I can totally see this as your go-to type of date, that’s so sweet 🥺

Songs!!

- Breathe (In the Air), Pink Floyd (I honestly see you and Tokoyami straight up vibing to Dark Side of the Moon like no other to be honest)

- In the Lap of the Gods, Queen

- Sense of Doubt, David Bowie (THIS VIBE IS SO DARK AND URGH I CAN SEE THIS AS A V I B E FOR YOU TWO - However, Neuköln could be a close second to portray this vibe!)

- Killing a Little Time, David Bowie

#mha matchup #mha #bnha #bnha matchup #tokoyami fukimage

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sofhyuck · 6 years ago

Text

Teach or Be Taught

Genre: elementary school teacher!Jaehyun, elementary school teacher!reader, fluff, gender neutral

Word Count: 7.2k

Excerpt: “Here, you can lean on my shoulder. You have like forty-five minutes to take a nap.” He scoots a little closer, supplying you with the maximum amount of comfort he can. You thank him quietly, nuzzling into his side while leaning your head on his shoulder. Jaehyun looks down at you, admiring every eyelash, every freckle, every part of you his eyes can reach. He’s never been in love before, but he swears this is what it feels like.

Masterlist

A/N: I tried a different writing style (which is heavily inspired by @dreaminghaos hi i love your writing style sm I aspire to be like you) bc why not???

Day 1 [8:00 am]

First days are the epitome of all things anxiety inducing. Meeting new people, trying to make said new people like you, all while in a new environment: any anti-social person’s worst nightmare. Every first day of school nerves never failed to bubble up in your throat, palms growing sweaty from mild fear. And, right at this moment, you feel as though your heart is going to fall out of your ass. You know this is what you’ve been waiting for, spending years at uni to work yourself up to that coveted teaching certificate. Now, you have that certificate as well as a job to go with it. Speaking of which…

You’re stood in front of the entryway, wringing your hands together, unable to shake yourself free of your anxieties. The door opened, revealing a tall middle aged woman who beckons you over. Slowly you make your way over, wiping your dampened hands on the front of your pants.

“Are you the new second grade teacher?” She inquires, looking you over.

“Ah, yes. My name is Y/n, it’s nice to meet you.” You give her a small bow.

“You’re here bright and early, aren’t you? Come on, I’ll show you to your classroom!” She smiles brightly, holding the door open wider to usher you inside. “I’m Han Ana, Mrs. Han to the kids. I’ve been teaching the fourth grade here for about twenty years now.”

You balk at her revelation, feeling like a child next to her. She leads you through the halls, chatting happily about the school before stopping in front of a room.

“Here, room 202 is all yours. You can situate yourself for now, but there’s an all staff meeting in twenty before the kids get here. It’ll be in the staff lounge downstairs. If you need any help I’m right down the hall in 204!” She leaves you at your classroom and you make your way inside. It’s your typical classroom, small desks in rows with one larger sat in the front. You place your bag and laptop on the front desk and open the shades covering the windows. Sunlight bursts throughout the room as you make your way around, inspecting every inch while rearranging desks where needed.

[8:18 am]

You glance up at the clock, only to find that you have less than two minutes to make it to the staff meeting. You race out the door, nearly falling down the stairs before you finally make it to the lounge. Every pair of eyes is on you as soon as you enter and you flush, ducking your head and sitting down next to Ana at one of the many round tables placed precariously around the room.

The staff meeting doesn’t last very long and you’re left with a good half hour before you need to get back to your classroom. Unsure as to what you should do next, you glance nervously around the table you’re sat at. All the unfamiliar faces make your head spin, each of them in their own conversations. Just as you’re about to get up and leave, Ana perks up.

“Oh, right! This is our new teacher, Y/n! They’re taking over for Mr. Park.”

“Thank god, that old man was really getting on my nerves.” A voice pipes up from across the table, pulling laughter from your coworkers.

“You look rather young, Y/n, how old are you?”

“I’m twenty-four. Just graduated a few months ago.” You flush as everyone gawks at you.

“Looks like you’re no longer our youngest teacher, Jaehyun. Think you’re ok with that?”

“I can live with it.” A deep voice chuckles a few seats away from you, and you turn to find the source. His eyes are already on yours and he greets you with a kind smile. “I’m Jung Jaehyun, previous youngest staff in the school. I’m also teaching the second grade.” You give him a soft smile in return, cheeks flushed slightly at his attention.

“It must be nice to finally have someone around your age, Jaehyun. I bet it can be tiring to hang around us old geezers all the time.” Ana pipes up.

“Ahhh, you guys aren’t so bad.” He teased, dimples poking at his cheeks. “But I’m excited to get to know our new addition.”

“We should probably head back to our classrooms. The kids should be arriving in about ten minutes now.” You stand up with everyone else, following them out the door. You feel a light nudge to your left, and turn to find Jaehyun walking beside you.

“What room are you in, newbie?”

“202. What about you?”

“Ah, damn I’m down here in 110. I was hoping we’d be on the same floor. Oh well, guess I’ll see you at lunch.” He grins before turning the corner, leaving you with a parting wave.

[11:50 am]

You’re exhausted yet probably the happiest you’ve ever been. Your students are absolutely adorable and seem to get along as well. The morning was filled with name games and little get-to-know-yous. Now, as you walk your students in a single file line to the cafeteria, you’re sure that you know all of their names by heart. They wave goodbye once they’re settled in the cafeteria and you make your way towards the staff lounge. Upon entering, you scan the room to find Jaehyun sat at a table in the center of the room. His gaze lifts from his lunchbox to rest on you and a smile tugs at the corner of his lips. You give him a short wave, going to grab your lunch from the refrigerator before sitting beside him.

“How are your kids? Any trouble makers?” He probes once you’re comfortably seated.

“Oh, they’re all so wonderful! I can already tell this year is going to be amazing!”

“That’s great! I knew as soon as I saw you that your students would love you.”

“What is that supposed to mean?” You flush, feeling small under his gaze.

“I mean, you just have this air of comfort about you? Plus, the kids always take better to a pretty face.” Your blush only deepens and you laugh nervously, gaze shifting to your lunch.

“What about you, Jaehyun? How long have you been working here?”

“This is my fourth year.” He hums happily, leaning back in his chair. “I’ve never had any issues with my students, although I do get a few proposals every year.”

“I’m not surprised.” You laugh, shovelling rice into your mouth. Jaehyun quirks an eyebrow at you, a smirk playing at his lips.

“I think you might give me some competition for most marriage proposals.”

“Hmmm, we’ll see. Although i’m not sure that’s a title we should fight for.”

“It’s nothing but a friendly competition, Y/n.” You shake your head, smiling slightly while packing up your lunch.

“I’ll see you later Jaehyun.”

“See ya!” He gives you a small nod, turning back to his lunch.

Day 6 [7:00 pm]

Jaehyun oftentimes wonders how and why he’s friends with the idiotic group of children he considers his closest friends. But now, sat on the floor of Doyoung’s nearly empty apartment with cookie crumbs covering the front of his shirt, he understands that he himself is one of those children.

“Hyung, I thought you were supposed to be mildly more responsible than the rest of us. It’s been like, what, a week since you moved in and you’re still not done unpacking?” Mark snickers from beside Jaehyun.

“Some of us have actual jobs that require them to be available most of the time, Mark.” Doyoung quips back, shoving the younger at the back of his head.

“Dude you can literally ask any of us for help, you know that right?” Johnny chimes in.

“Like I’d let any of you touch my belongings. Besides, you guys won’t know where to put anything.”

“Oh ye of little faith. Come on, why don’t we help right now!”

“Hold up.” Jaehyun sits straight up, brushing the crumbs from his shirt. “This is not what I agreed to! I’m exhausted from dealing with the kids all week, I don’t need any more exertion.”

Mumbles of agreement chime from around the room, Doyoung physically relaxing knowing that his belongings are no longer at risk of being tampered with; at least for now, that is. Jaehyun reaches for the pack of chocolate chip cookies in Sicheng’s grasp, nearly having to wrestle it out of his greedy hands. Sicheng finally releases the pack, causing Jaehyun to fall back on his ass earning a chorus of laughter from his friends.

“How are the kids this year anyways, Jae? Any wedding bells ringing?”

“Not yet, Tae.” He chuckles.

“Didn’t you mention that you were getting a new teacher?”

“Yea replacing that old asshole, right?”

“Ah, yea, they’re our new youngest staff member.” Jaehyun revealed.

“Ooooh are they cute?”

“They must be. Look! His ears are turning red!” The room once again erupts into laughter at the expense of Jaehyun. He looks around, gaze settling on a paper book that he then throws at whoever’s closest.

“Ow, c’mon man.” Yuta mumbles, rubbing his stomach.

“We’re just teasing you dude. I mean, it’s been like four years since you last dated someone, it’s about time you got back into the game.”

Jaehyun rolls his eyes in response, digging through the nearly empty pack of cookies in hopes of distracting himself. So what if he had been single for awhile? What was it that people said, married to your job? In fact, his last relationship ended right after he got his current job, something about him constantly smelling like baby powder now. Since then, he hasn’t really bothered to start a new relationship. Out of the odd single mother or father, Jaehyun doesn’t really come across people his age. He traded that part of his life to be surrounded by seven to eight year old children instead.

“Do you have a picture of them?”

“Uh, maybe, hold on a sec.” Jaehyun opens his photo app only to be faced with the picture of you that he most definitely had not been smiling at on his way over to Doyoung’s apartment. It’s a picture of you when you were on recess duty together. The two of you had been stood talking to one another, both keeping an eye on the children, when one of your students had ran over and tugged lightly on the side of your pants. You had immediately knelt down to be eye level with the child, asking her what was wrong. Blushing, the girl brought out a flower from behind her back, holding it out to you. You smiled gratefully and reached out to take the gift from her small hands. Jaehyun couldn’t help himself and immediately pulled out his phone, snapping a quick picture before turning away, feigning innocence. You had caught him, of course, and immediately demanded he send the picture to you.

“Hmmm, yea they’re cute.” Mark’s voice sounds directly next to Jaehyun’s ear. The boy cranes his neck to look over the elder’s shoulder for a peak at his phone screen.

“Oi, back off.” Jaehyun nudges Mark, turning his phone to show the rest of the group the photo. They hum in approval, a few exchanging nods and giving Jaehyun a sly thumbs up. Jaehyun feels his ears burn and he quickly snatches his phone back.

“Have you made a move yet?”

“Knowing our Jaehyun he probably already has.”

“Leave me aloooone.” Jaehyun whines, fully prepared to throw another book at the group.

“Sorry Jae, it’s just so fun to see you ears turn red. It’s so rare that we get to see you all flustered.”

“You’re not helping Johnny.”

“I know.”

Jaehyun decides that he really needs new friends who aren’t mentally, or physically, seven years old.

Day 33 [10:00 am]

A knock sounds at your classroom door, causing you to halt your current lesson. Your students immediately begin tittering amongst each other as you walk over to open the door, revealing a bashful Jaehyun stood in your doorway. You can hear your students shuffling in their seats, hoping to catch a glimpse of whoever is at the door.

“Hey Y/n, I was wondering if you had any extra white board markers? My last one just ran out in the middle of class and I’ve been meaning to buy new ones but I keep forgetting.”

“Sure, Jaehyun, give me a second.” Jaehyun follows you into your classroom, a chorus of “ooooh’s” from your students echoing around the room. You immediately shush them, flushing at their teasing. You reach into your desk drawer, pulling out a new marker and handing it to him.

“Thanks, Y/n.” He smiles, the classroom again bursting with teasing sounds and you usher Jaehyun out the door. It takes you almost five minutes to calm down the kids, although they continue to bring up Mr. Jung until the lunch bell rings. Once you drop the class off at the cafeteria, you heave a sigh of relief, happy to be free of their taunting. Jaehyun greets you in the staff’s lounge, sliding a rice cake over to you.

“What’s this for?”

“A little thank you for the new marker.”

“Ah really, it was no problem. But why didn’t you just go to someone on your floor.”

“Why, I wanted to visit you, of course! You’re worth the perilous trek.”

You roll your eyes. “Ah yes, the treacherous single flight of stairs, how brave of you.”

Jaehyun points his chopsticks at you, dropping a piece of chicken in the process. “Hey, you never know when you could trip and injure yourself. People fall and break their necks on those death traps all the time.”

“Lovely, Jaehyun. As if I wasn’t already afraid of falling down stairs.”

“Don’t worry, I’ll catch you if you fall.” He grins, reaching over to pat you on the head. You swat away his hand, ready to reprimand him for messing up your hair when Ana pulls out the chair next to you, calling for both of your attention.

“What are you two lovebirds up to?”

“L-lovebirds?” You choke out, eyes widening at her question.

“Haven’t you heard, you two are the new hot couple of the school.” She giggles, taking a bite out of her egg sandwich. “Even the students are gossiping! My, it’s so exciting, we haven’t had a school couple since Suzy and Haseul left.”

“We - I mean we’re not a couple…”

“Oh but you will be soon, I call it.”

Jaehyun, noticing your discomfort, cuts her off. “C’mon Ana, give it a rest for now. We’re just trying to eat our lunch in peace.”

She raises her arms in surrender, returning her focus back to her sandwich, voicing her complaints to the room. “I swear, the school lunches just seem to be worsening every year, more and more parents are making lunches for their kids.”

“It’s not that bad, they’re still better than anything my school provided when I was a kid.”

“Hm, little baby Jaehyunie must’ve been so cute.” You tease, pinching his cheeks.

“Ay, come on now.” He whines, ears turning red at your ministrations.

“Well, I better head out now, you kids have fun.” Ana stands up, wiping the crumbs from her hands.

You both bid her farewell, Jaehyun’s fingers tapping a soft beat onto your wrist.

“I’m sorry if all that coupley stuff made you uncomfortable. We’re all kind of like a big family here so most of us are used to that kind of teasing. You’ll probably get used to it, but if you ever feel uncomfortable again just let me know, ok?” He gives you a warm smile, his hand now settled over top your own. You smile, thanking him in return.

[3:50 pm]

You’re sat in the entryway to the school, one of your students sat beside you. You’re attempting to distract her, but it’s been twenty minutes since her mother was meant to pick her up and you can tell that she’s growing nervous.

“Mommy’s running a little late, Bora, don’t worry.” You attempt to soothe her, patting her lightly on the head. “Here, I have some markers and paper, why don’t you draw me a picture of your family?” She smiles at your suggestion, nodding happily while reaching for the supplies. You ask her about each figure drawn, attempting to engage her and keep her attention off of her absent mother.

“What are you two still doing out here?” You look up to see Jaehyun stood over you, smiling down at the two of you.

“I’m drawing, Mr. Jung! Look, there’s me and my little brother and my mommy!”

“Wow, you’re quite the artist!” He crouches down in front of you, leaning on your knees to get a better view of her drawings.

“Thank you!” She giggles. “Teacher’s keeping me company while I wait for my mommy to come pick me up.”

“Oh, well that’s very kind of teacher!”

“Yea! Teacher’s the best!” Bora leans over to hug you tightly and you laugh, wrapping your arms around her.

“Yea, they really are.” Jaehyun gazes up at the two of you, completely enamored. Your eyes sparkle in the sunlight, happiness radiating off of you.

“Mr. Jung!” Bora cries, poking him in the cheek. Leaning in closer to Jaehyun, she beckons him in closer. He leans in and she cups her hands around her mouth. “Are you and teacher dating?” She questions in a poor attempt at a whisper.

“No, Bora, at least not yet.” He whispers.

“But I want to marry you Mr. Jung.” She pouts.

“Maybe in a few years, ok?’ He chuckles. He grins up at you slyly, holding up two fingers. His second confession.

“Bora, baby I am so sorry, traffic was terrible!” A young woman comes rushing over to you, immediately sweeping her child into her arms.

“That’s ok mommy! Teacher and Mr. Jung kept me company.”

Her mother turns to face you, relief evident on her face. “Thank you so much for taking care of Bora, and I’m sorry for being so late.”

“That’s ok!” You smiled. “Just give me a call next time, you should have my number.”

“Right, of course, again I’m so sorry. I’ll be on time from now on.”

“Have nice night, ma’am! Bora, I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Bye teacher! Bye Mr. Jung!”

Jaehyun gets up from his spot on the ground to stand beside you, both of you waving goodbye to the little girl. He can’t help but to gaze at you, heart practically on his sleeve. The way you treat your students so kindly, always sure to show them affection all while keeping an appropriately firm hand.

“Looks like we can go home—”

“Do you want to get something for dinner—” You both speak at the same time, laughing following shortly after.

“Isn’t it too early for dinner?” You question, checking the time on your phone.

“Factor in travel time plus walking around a little, we’ll find a restaurant right before the dinner rush.” Figuring why not? you nod in agreement, heading back inside to gather your belongings.

[4:45 pm]

So, maybe it is still a little too early to have dinner. And by a little too early you mean almost a full hour before you normally would eat. Jaehyun doesn’t seem to mind, however, happily pulling you along the fairly empty streets. You look upon him fondly, following him wherever he goes. Not that you had much choice considering how firmly his hand grasps yours.

It’s inevitable, the way your heart flutters whenever his gaze locks with yours. Sure, the boys you had met in the past were attractive, but Jaehyun’s pure beauty is utterly incomparable. Not to mention his affinity with children and all around gentille manner. If you were being completely honest, Jaehyun is your ideal man, and he’s practically fallen right into your lap. Now if only you could act upon your feelings…

“How about chicken and beer?” Jaehyun suggests, stopping in front of a restaurant.

“Jae, it’s still so early, I’m barely hungry!”

“Fine, why don’t we get takeout instead and then head back to my apartment?”

“Hmmm, trying to get me all to yourself Mr. Jung?”

“Oh god Y/n, please don’t call me that.” He laughs, pulling you inside the restaurant. “Now come on, what do you want to order?”

[5:30 pm]

Jaehyun’s apartment is almost excruciatingly neat, something you honestly didn’t expect from the boy. His classroom is almost always in a state of disarray, a trait you had assumed translated over into his home life. Instead, you’re faced with pristine white walls, not a single book out of place, all stacked neatly on the shelves lining the walls. Your shoes are lined up in the entryway, inked drawings hanging around the apartment. You’re stood gazing at one of said drawings when Jaehyun comes to stand behind you after placing your food on the counter.

“These are all done by my friend Taeyong.” He hums, placing his hands on your shoulders.

“He’s quite talented, does he do commissions?”

“Oh definitely, I bet I could even get you a discount!”

You laugh, pulling him back over to the counter. He grabs some plates from his cabinets as you unload the chicken. Each plate is decorated with a floral design around the brim, a fact you’re sure to take note of. You take a bite of chicken, humming at the savory taste. Meanwhile, Jaehyun’s hands are getting sweaty. It has been so long since Jaehyun dated someone, let alone invited someone over to his apartment who wasn’t a part of his friend group. Especially someone he held such a strong attraction to. He found himself unable to meet your gaze, quite the 180 from his usually confident demeanor.

“Jaehyun, did you know that your ears turn red fairly easily?”

Jaehyun immediately drops his chopsticks, bringing his hands to cover his ears. Of course his ears are red, they always are around you. You laugh at his reaction, muttering a soft cute as you turn back to your chicken.

“I’m not cute,” he pouts, “I’m extremely handsome.”

“You can be both, Jae. In fact, you are.” Jaehyun’s hands are still over his ears, fully aware that they’ve only grown redder. “Eat your chicken, it’s gonna grow cold.”

Day 76 [8:30 am]

“Oh, Jaehyun! Just the teacher I’ve been looking for!” Jaehyun abruptly stops his conversation with one of the third grade teachers. He smiles, turning to face you.

“What’s up?”

“I’m trying to take the kids on a field trip to the science museum but the principal told me I need another teacher to come with me since I’m new. I was hoping you’d be ok with coming along. Our classes get along well too.”

Jaehyun thinks it’s rather odd that the principal is requiring you to bring another teacher along. He didn’t have to do that during his first year. He chooses to shrug it off for now, exchanging his confusion for relief. Thank god you were comfortable enough around him to ask for his help.

“I’d be glad to! I take my classes there every year anyways.”

“Oh, thank you so much, you’re a real lifesaver!”

“Of course, we can discuss the details later at lunch today, yea?

You give him a quick hug before dashing off to your classroom.

“Aren’t you guys dating yet?”

“Not yet.” Jaehyun smiles softly, gazing at your retreating figure.

Day 82 [8:30 am]

The students arrive half an hour earlier than usual so that they have enough time to explore the museum. You and Jaehyun are ushering your students onto the bus, chaperones already assigned and sat with their groups. The final student gets on the bus and you and Jaehyun follow. Considering that there are two classrooms plus chaperones on the bus, there are only two seats left, sat next to one another. Jaehyun allows you to sit first, giving you the window seat, and promptly plops himself down next to you.

He leans down to whisper in your ear. “I heard you got another confession yesterday. What does that make, five?”

“Are you still keeping track of that?” You snort. “I’m not even counting anymore.”

“Of course, I need to keep my status as most popular teacher!”

“Well if you must know, I’ve actually gotten six confessions.”

“I thought you stopped keeping track?” He pokes your side, teasing.

“You’re just jealous I have more confessions than you.” You huff.

“…maybe so.” Jaehyun sits back with a pout. “Just wait a few weeks, I’ll take you over.” He gazes over at you out of the corner of his eye, hoping to have pulled a reaction out of you. You’re already looking at him, smiling stupidly at his sulking figure. Jaehyun’s heart flutters, an almost foreign feeling after going so long without a relationship. If there’s one thing his friends are actually right about, it’s that he doesn’t get out enough. Whenever they ask him to hang out to drink, he opts to stay in, worried that one of his student’s parents might see him. Not an ideal situation, seeing your child’s teacher stumbling around in a drunken stupor. It had happened once during his first year of teaching, and Jaehyun is not about to let that happen again. Thus, he rarely has the ability to meet new people, let alone a potential lover. Then here comes you, the cute new teacher who steals his heart in less than five minutes. Damn his vulnerability.

[12:00 pm]

The students have congregated at the museum cafeteria, slightly exhausted from their morning spent running around the museum but still excited nonetheless. Jaehyun is sat next to you, both of your groups situated around the table. Happy chatter flits around the room, making it hard to hold a proper conversation. Jaehyun is forced to lean into your side so that you are able to hear one another, not that either of you mind. A light tug at the back of his shirt calls for Jaehyun to turn around, one of his students stood behind him.

“What’s up buddy?” He laughs lightly tickling the boy’s stomach. The boy giggles, breaking off into a long winded spiel about how exciting his day has been so far. Jaehyun diligently listens to every word, reacting when necessary and answering all of the boys questions to the best of his ability. You can’t help to gaze fondly at the two of them, heart fluttering at the sight (but then again, when doesn’t your heart flutter when Jaehyun is around).

“You’re my favorite teacher!” The boy finally states, hugging Jaehyun before skipping away. Jaehyun turns to you giving you a pointed look and a smirk.

“That does not count.” You state, rolling your eyes.

“Oh it totally does, this competition is for who’s the favorite teacher and he said I’m his favorite.”

“Yes but we’re only counting confessions.”

“Hey, we never made a rule like that.”

“Fine, I’ll count it. But only because you’ll still be behind me.”

“Only by one.” He teases, leaning over to snatch a piece of meat from your plate. You swat away his hand, Jaehyun laughing jovially in response.

[1:00 pm]

“All right kids, get back with your chaperones, we only have a few more hours left at the museum!” A chorus of groans sound throughout the museum cafeteria, your students not quite yet ready to leave. You round up your own group of kids, counting meticulously to make sure they’re all still present. The students are all fluttering about, fully energized from their lunch. A few have taken to hanging off your legs, giggling madly.

“How much sugar did you monkeys eat?” You laugh, leaning down to gently pry them off. “Come on, don’t you want to go back into the museum? We still haven’t gone to the weather room, I heard there’s a cool lightning exhibit.” Your students immediately let go of your legs, now wanting to explore the museum as soon as possible.

“Y/n!” You look up to see Jaehyun and his group of students coming towards you. “Heard you’re going to the weather room, we haven’t gone either and were hoping we could tag along.”

“I don’t know kids, do we want Mr. Jung to join us, I heard he’s a little smelly.”

“Hey! I am not smelly!”

Your students all giggle, taking great amusement in your back and forth.

“I think we should let them join, teacher! Mr. Jung is really handsome.” Bora sounds, a few of the other students in your group agreeing.

“Alright Mr. Jung, you can join our group but only because you’re so handsome.” You laugh, his ears reddening in embarrassment.

“Wow thank you guys so much.” He grins shyly. “Shall we go?”

You nod, gesturing for your students to follow close behind. Jaehyun sidles up to you, bumping your arm with his.

“Do you really think I’m smelly?” He whispers, half joking but also half worried you’ll say yes.

“Only a little,” you tease, “but, like, not in a bad way.”

“Ayyy, what’s that supposed to mean?”

“I mean, like, I guess…”

“I guess…” He repeats, egging you on.

“You smell nice.” You mumble, face flushed at your confession.

“Cute.” Jaehyun grins. “You smell nice too, in case you were wondering.”

“I wasn’t, but thanks for the affirmation.”

You turn into the weather room, giving your students free reign to walk around while you keep a close eye on them. Jaehyun stations himself across the room so that you have the whole area covered, but that doesn’t keep him from shooting dumb faces at you from time to time.

“Teacher!” One of your students bounds up to you, beckoning for you to crouch down to his height.

“What’s up Taegeun?”

“Is Mr. Jung your boyfriend?” He asks shyly, fiddling with his hands.

“No, why do you ask?”

He perks up at your answer. “Good, because I want to be your boyfriend.” He states proudly, puffing out his chest.

“Hmmm, I’m not really looking for a relationship right now.”

“That’s ok, I can wait.” He says, running back to his group of friends.

You stand back up and make eye contact with Jaehyun. You give him a smirk, holding up seven fingers. He glares back, shaking his head in mock anger at your popularity. You’ve stolen half the school’s hearts, including his own.

[2:35 pm]

The bus is waiting in front of the museum, a few students already sat on the vehicle. You’re standing by the doors, keeping count of the students entering the bus. Ticking off each student as they pass, you finally mark off the last one and make your way onto the bus. Jaehyun gestures for you to sit beside him, scooting over slightly to give you a little more room. You drop down into the seat, exhaustion radiating off of your slumped body.

“The kids tuckered you out, huh?”

“Mmm, just a little.” You hum, eyelids growing heavy.

“Here, you can lean on my shoulder. You have like forty-five minutes to take a nap.” He scoots a little closer, supplying you with the maximum amount of comfort he can. You thank him quietly, nuzzling into his side while leaning your head on his shoulder. Jaehyun looks down at you, admiring every eyelash, every freckle, every part of you his eyes can reach. He’s never been in love before, but he swears this is what it feels like.

Day 97 [9:00 pm]

Another Friday, and Jaehyun once again finds himself sat on Doyoung’s, now fully furnished, apartment. Even though there is a couch, Jaehyun arrived later than everyone else, thus he was left with the floor. His back is flush against the couch and Sicheng’s foot is currently kicking his head.

“Sicheng I’m going to kill you.” He snaps, reaching up to grab the boy’s foot.

“Only if you say you’ll go out with us tonight!”

“You know why I don’t want to!”

“Oh come on, Jae. It happened once years ago, what are the chances it’ll happen again?”

“Well that’s what I thought but look what happened.”

“Dude come on it’s been so long since you went out with us.” Johnny calls out, joining Sicheng in kicking the boy’s side. “Literally just come out with us this one night, we’ll never ask you again.”

Jaehyun hesitates.

“Look, if one of your parent’s sees you we’ll, I don’t know, we’ll pay for your dinner for a month.”

“Wait hold on we’re not agree—”

“Deal.” The thought of being seen by one of his student’s parents is terrifying, yes, but the thought of free dinner for a whole month far outways that potential embarrassment.

[10:00 pm]

Thankfully, his friends choose a more bar-like atmosphere instead of a full fledged club, knowing he probably wouldn’t be up for the high speed environment. There’s loud music playing, various games strewn around the building.

“We’re gonna head over to the pool table, you up for it?”

“I think I’m just gonna hang here for awhile, I’ll catch up with you later.”

A few of his friends head over to the pool table, leaving him at the bar. Jaehyun takes a sip of his drink, eyes scanning the room. He’s not really sure what he’s looking for; there’s not really much to find in the mass of sweaty bodies. His gaze travels to his friends making a bit of a scene by the pool table and he chuckles lowly, amused by their idiocy. He quickly looks away, however, because Ten is about to climb over the table, ready to grab Doyoung by the collar. Not a sight he wants to see. Scanning the room, he looks past the seating area, only to do a double take. There, sat on top of one of the many square tables, is a completely inebriated you, head thrown back in laughter at something your friend just said. The ends of his lips curl up in a smile and he observes your figure for a moment. Downing the rest of his drink, he places the empty glass on the bartop and stands to make his way over to you. Your friends must take notice of his towering figure because they all start frantically waving their arms at you, gesturing towards his approaching figure. You look up with a start and, upon seeing him, abruptly climb off the table. He rushes over to you, stabilizing your shaky figure.

“Mr. Jung, I did not expect to see you here. Like, never.” You giggled happily, poking his cheeks.

“Ah, Y/n, how much have you had to drink?”

“You know how many of the kids have confessed to me?” “Yea?”

“That many.”

“Holy shit.” He mumbled, studying your face. He turns to look at your friends who are all not so subtly checking him out. They turn away at his gaze, tittering amongst themselves before he calls for their attention. “Can I steal Y/n away from you guys?”

“Of course!” One of them giggles. “In fact you can steal me away too if you’d like.”

“Sorry, I only need Y/n.” He smiles kindly, already wrapping an arm around your waist to pull you away..

“Keep our baby safe!” They call after your retreating figures.

“Where are we going?” You mutter, clutching onto his bicep.

“We’re going to get some water into your system and then I’m taking you home.”

“Aw c’mon, you should have some fun! I know you haven’t been out since your first year. Have you even had something to drink yet?”

“I have and right now your safety is more important than me having fun.”

“Ayyy, I’m not gonna let you not have fun because of me. Are your friends here? Can I meet them?”

“Y/n I should really be getting you—”

“Ayo Jae, who’s the cutie?”

“Johnny you dumbass that’s that new teacher he’s been pining after.”

Before Jaehyun could steer you away from his rowdy group of friends you break out of his grasp, heading over to the pool table.

“Shit.” He mumbles under his breath, jogging over to you. Yuta’s already got his arm around you, engaging you in an animate conversation about god knows what. He sighs heavily, pulling you from his friend’s grasp, much to Yuta’s protests.

“Come on let’s get you some water.”

“Jae you can leave ‘em with us while you get the water. We want to get to know your new coworker anyways.” Yuta says with a wink, pulling you back into his side. Knowing he’s fighting a losing battle, Jaehyun hurries to get you a glass of water so that he could rescue you from his friends as soon as possible.

Through your haze you barely register the men surrounding you. They chat happily, asking you about work and, most importantly, your relationship with Jaehyun. You don’t take the questions particularly seriously, too drunk to actually pay attention to what they’re saying. An arm wraps around your waist and you turn your head slightly to find Jaehyun holding a glass of water out to you.

“Here, drink.” He commands softly, raising his eyebrows. You part your lips, too hazy to reach out and take the glass. Jaehyun rolls his eyes but brings the glass to your lips nonetheless. Slowly, he tilts it back, examining how your lips close around the rim as your eyes close. Your cheeks are rosy, this time not out of embarrassment, and your hair’s a bit of a mess. Still beautiful, though.

After a few sips your eyelids flutter open, signalling that you’ve had your fill. He lowers the glass, eyes locked, time at a standstill. Slowly, he raises his hand to run a thumb over your bottom lip, teasing at the plump flesh. Before either of you can make a move, Mark stumbles into Jaehyun, pushing him into you in the process. You giggle as Jaehyun attempts to steady you, glaring at the younger.

“Ok, time to get you home.” He says sternly, pulling you away from his friends.

“Ok.” You giggle, waving goodbye cutely. His friends all coo over you and Jaehyun has to keep himself from doing the same. Happy to have finally gotten you out of the vicinity of the bar, Jaehyun quickly hails a cab and pulls you in after him. You situate yourself as close to him as possible, snuggling into his warmth. You’re slightly more sober now although still a little hazy, and Jaehyun is like a walking space heater. A heavy sigh falls past his lips but he still wraps his arm around you, basking in the comfort you provide.

“You gotta wake up now Y/n. We’re at your place.”

You hum sleepily in response, clambering out of the car. Jaehyun practically has to carry you up to your apartment, making sure you drink more water and wash up before you flop onto your bed. Smiling fondly, he pats your head and leaves your apartment. He wonders if you’ll remember anything tomorrow morning.

Day 100 [3:20 pm]

“Ok kids, we’ll have reading time for the last ten minutes.” Your students all rush to pull out their books and you give out a small sigh of relief, happy that you’ll be able to relax. Before you can get too comfortable, however, a knock sounds at the door. Groaning under your breath you stand up to open it. You’re immediately faced with Jaehyun and his entire class.

“What’s this for?” You gasp, stepping back to let them in.

“Do you know how many days it’s been since you started working here?”

“No?”

“100!” He claps excitedly, grabbing a cake from one of his students, a big 100 written in frosting on top. Both your students and his cheer happily, mostly at the sight of the cake but also because of you, and you gladly take the cake, cheeks turning red.

“You have pretty poor timing, Jaehyun,” you whisper into his ear. “The kids have to leave soon and they’re not going to be happy once they find out they won’t get any cake.”

“I know, I was hoping it’d be a boost in my popularity.” He said with a wink.

“You’re the one who brought the cake, we’re both going down with this one.” You say pointedly, poking him in the chest.

Your students intermingle amongst themselves, books long forgotten in all the excitement. After a little chatting the bell rings and your students race out the door. Thankful that they weren’t too upset by the lack of cake, you make your way back to your room only to find Jaehyun already there, cake cut into slices. He holds a plate out to you, gesturing for you to sit on the desk beside him. Gratefully, you take the plate and sit down, digging into the cake.

“Oh my god this is delicious.” You moan, savoring in the taste of the fluffy dessert.

“Mmm, I know right? Paris Baguette really knows what they’re doing.” He hums happily in agreement. “You know, two of my students have confessed to me since the museum.”

“Damn, so we’re tied now huh.” You pout jokingly.

“You’re about to be winning again.”

“What is that supposed to mean?” You question, turning to face him.

“I know this is supposed to be a competition and everything, but you’re probably going to win anyways—”

“Hey we’re tied right now—”

“Let me finish ok?” You shut up, letting him finish his mini speech. “As I was saying before being so rudely interrupted,” you roll your eyes at that, “We’re not going to be tied anymore because I’m going to confess to you. Or, well, I am confessing to you.”

“What? Are you serious?”

“Oh come on Y/n, it’s obvious we like each other, the whole school has been waiting practically with baited breath for us to get together!”

“No I know all that. I’m just surprised that you’re confessing so early into the year! You were taking this competition so seriously I thought you’d make me be the one to do it.”

“I can’t believe you Y/n.” He scoffs, leaning back on his hands.

“What? A competition’s a competition. Oh well, looks like I’m winning again.” You shrug, turning back to your cake, a teasing grin stuck on your face. Jaehyun sits there for a minute, shocked at your confession. Once you finish your cake, however, Jaehyun gets a brilliant idea. A mischievous smile creeps across his face and you stare at him in mild fear.

“What exactly are you thinking of doi—” You get cut off by Jaehyun shoving the rest of the cake in your face.

“You’re dead Mr. Jung.” Wiping the cake off of your face, you move to wipe it all over his face. But, before you get the chance, Jaehyun places his lips over yours in a deep kiss. Your lips move together in harmony, the kiss slightly sticky from all the cake residue. Eventually, he pulls away, grinning at you with cake crumbs and frosting covering his lips.

“Sweet.” He chuckles, licking his lips. You grab his cheeks with your cake covered hands and smoosh them together.

“Yes,” you laugh, “very.”

#and with that i may never write again #nct #nct au #nct scenario #nct imagine #jung jaehyun #jaehyun #jaehyun imagine #jaehyun scenario #jaehyun au #nct fluff #jaehyun fluff #nct teacher au #jaehyun teacher au

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oasismade-moved · 5 years ago

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headcanon. unique magic

Kalim’s unique magic is called oasis maker, and allows him to summon forth rain / any stream of water. Now this wouldn’t seem as impressive at first, as water magic is a thing within the twst world, but it’s so much more than just a small amount of water around him.

For one, the magic itself can last much longer than an ordinary water spell. Honestly, it can last for as long as Kalim can keep it up. Sometimes he can make it last up to or over an hour. The longest he’s ever kept it up is three hours. Which considering how short and quick some unique magics seem to be so far, is an impressive feat.

He’s able to keep this up because of how ‘ordinary’ his magic is. Everyone thinks that summoning water is easy and it is! Which is exactly why his magic lasts for as long as it does. There is one special element that is the part that really tires Kalim out.

This rain has healing elements aswell. It won’t heal major wounds, or stop major bleeding, but it can heal bruises, small cuts, stop headaches, dull otherwise sharp pains, help with physical fatigue. Small reliefs like this. This aspect of his magic is less known, as most are too mystified by the rain to notice when he is using it to realize such things until after the fact and never really put two and two together.

This is the true power of Kalim’s rain other than the length he can keep it going. The more he focuses the more he can heal.

There’s a couple restrictions to the magic as a whole, of course.

First, the range of what area he makes the rain appear will affect how long it lasts - as a larger range takes more energy for him to keep up. For example, just making it rain over the east oasis was easy and he could have done that for an hour or so - but making it ran over all of night raven college would be more difficult and he’d probably only be able to keep it up for around 15-20 minutes depending, possibly even less. He shows this with the stream he makes back to the scarabia dorm in episode 4, and it was lucky that the twins could swim fast otherwise he might not have been able to keep it up.

Two, his physical and mental well-being play into his magic aswell and if he’s too stressed in either capacity it won’t last as long. For a few minutes at best. It’s one reason he tries to focus on being happy and not stress about issues. He is paranoid and constantly observing don’t get me wrong, but in a moment where he needs to use his magic he sort of tries to find peace with all of that if only for a few minutes. He focuses on who he can help with his magic and that helps put his mind at ease long enough for it to be effective - but it doesn’t always work.

Three, Kalim’s physical endurance isn’t the best (as seen in Riddle’s PE card where him and Kalim both get very out of breath / tired from doing sprints/running) so moving around too much while using his magic is also a way to make the time shorter.

However ‘too much’ is kind of subjective. Kalim is a dancer - so he’s used to some physical fatigue and he often dances while using this power, but he becomes more tired while moving and using his magic at the same time. So dancing with this power active is often slow and routine, rather than something energetic and freestyle (think Yuna from ffx with her dance on the water).

He uses the dance as a way to get people’s attention on him and come towards the water - and the healing ability of it. So he’s entertaining them while it’s happening and he can ease their troubles and give them some physical relief.

Four, it tires him out faster if kalim focuses solely on the healing aspect. The rain won’t last as long either so he doesn’t do this unless he sees someone really in need of both the water and healing even for a short amount of time.

Now into more of the lore TM

Kalim thought of this magic during a terrible heatwave in the land of hot sands. His only older sibling at the time had died from a heat stroke, thus making him the heir to the asim family. Kalim was so distraught by this that he tried to find a way to bring rain to the land. He had read about rain dances and with the water magic Jamil was helping him with he thought of maybe combining the two. He didn’t want anyone to suffer as his older sibling had.

It wasn’t easy. He nearly fell to the same condition that took his older sibling - as he practiced out in the sun for long hours with Jamil. It was thanks to him that Kalim didn’t fall to heat stroke himself but he still made himself sick with all the practice and stress. This didn’t stop him, though. He went around the asim house and practiced by doing small water spells for his younger siblings, making sure that they were being careful with the heat aswell. But this wasn’t enough for him - he would stare out over the city that he could see from his balcony and want to help everyone.

One day, that just clicked for him. He had been so focused on someone who had already passed thanks to the heat that he wasn’t focusing on who was present, who was still alive. That day he went out to the center of the city and started dancing - then the rain started. The rain managed to cover the entire city (the only time kalim has been able to pull off such a large area). It was only for 5 minutes, but the city found some relief from the sun and heat. Everyone was out of their houses and on the street to stand in the rain - collecting it and celebrating. Kalim passed out as soon as the 5 minutes were up.

He was dubbed the ‘oasis maker’ after recovering - and named his magic the same thing. He became one of the most important people in the city, not just because of his family and being the new heir to the asim family, but because of his magic bringing relief to the land. Kalim even started on a trip around the country to bring rain to each city and town and give them rain during the heatwave.

However, this also brought more attention onto him - and some people wanted the magic for themselves. They wanted to be the ones that controlled the rain, to have the relief and power all for themselves. So the kidnapping and assassination attempts on Kalim skyrocketed. He was too precious to kill, but in the same breath some groups had decided if they couldn’t have the power then no one person should. Kalim was placed under house arrest and didn’t leave his home for nearly a year. The only time he was allowed to leave was when he had planned dances to use his magic and there was so much security that any attempts on his life or to kidnap him were stopped early on. Or at least, most of them. There had been two successful attempts to kidnap Kalim during that year. One group had been so bad they had made Kalim dance until his feet bled and he passed out. No more public showings were scheduled after that. Any more dances were scheduled inside the Asim home (as he could make it rain even indoors) and people could come collect the water as needed - while being surrounded by guards.

The heatwave ended and he was able to come out of his home more but the series of events made him and his guards more paranoid over kidnappers and assassins. Not long after, the carriages for NRC arrived for him and Jamil, and it was quickly decided Kalim would attend so that he could get away from the land of hot sands for a bit and be out of harms way. Jamil was convinced assassins would follow them to the school - and he was right. Kalim still deals with people trying to assassinate or kidnap him both because of his family status and his unique magic.

He is paranoid about protecting his life not only because he is scared of death - but because he is afraid that he won’t be able to help his homeland with his magic if another heatwave came through. Also, there are people who treat kalim like a king (one could argue even a god) because of his magic - and those people would likely go into a fury knowing that kalim is dead, tearing his homeland apart. His life is too important to be lost, and he knows this better than anyone.

#[ history ] of house asim . headcanon

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ofravensandgenesis · 5 years ago

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For John, maybe?: “You’re holding back.”

A/N: Characters/Verse-Setting: John Seed and Deputy Declan Rook, set in the Walk Away AU, in the Between Silence And Quiet verse. Minor mentions of Mary May Fairgrave and Deputy Joey Hudson.Summary: John tries to orchestrate a chance meeting to talk to that strange Deputy who chose to walk away. You’re holding back and John as a prompt from Chyrstis! :D Thank you for the prompt Chyrstis!! :D ♥Content includes: Cult content, John being John, manipulation, mild violence, etc.Ao3 link here, to avoid tumblr disaster formatting on mobile.————————————

“You’re holding back, Deputy.” John observed, his steps slow and methodical as he circled around from behind the other man where he stood.Not even a twitch. Not a look, a breath, or a word.Just silence. Silence broken by the pitiful little groans of pain from the crumpled heaps of booze-soaked trouble-makers surrounding the Deputy’s feet. Not even a broken bone among them, pff. Weak, as Jacob would so aptly call them. Foolish too, as John would term it. Too eager to vent their spleen and their wrath on any easy target—easy to target because it wasn’t mentally challenging to pick out who wasn’t a regular alcoholic here at the Spread Eagle, that was. The thought almost had John smirking. Almost. Had the drunken sops actually gotten to the point of swinging, well…it would’ve benefited the Project for John to take a punch for the team if only to be able to start the chain of actions to staple a battery charge on the lot. Then it was just a matter of slowly picking them apart until they were handing over the keys and deeds to their houses and lands to get out of the growing mountain of scandal and misfortune that would follow them from that point onward. Too foolish to step out of the noose they’d made, and too foolish to realize they’d woven the rope and tied it themselves—like shooting fish in a barrel.That was if he took a punch. They didn’t need trash like this in the Project, and their lands weren’t anything important. These souls were small fry, unworthy and uninteresting. Poor fighters, too. John had already known he could take them—and break them—in a fight.They hadn’t known that though. They’d assumed because he was some “fancy shmancy ass lawyer,” that he didn’t know how to raise a fist and fight. That he didn’t know pain.Oh, but did he know pain in far more intimate and detailed ways that they didn’t—and he could show it to them,—but no. They weren’t worthy of that revelation, that understanding of the power of YES.But Deputy Rook?Deputy Declan Rook.Deputy XiuYing Declan Rook.That was a soul who could understand. The silence surrounding him was too heavy with knowing, with something, with promise, to go unremarked on.The Deputy had kept his silence in the church too, then, on that fateful night.He’d listened to Joseph, strangely enough.Or. Joseph said the Deputy had.John disagreed. Jacob disagreed.There had been something in the Deputy’s face…that had been so very far away.The feeling of a soul that is disassociated from its surroundings and the going-ons of the moment.They all knew that feeling well.Joseph had dismissed it.But John? John couldn’t let well enough alone.That was why he was here now, slinking about the Spread Eagle on a Saturday night. He’d had good intel from his people about town that the Deputy had made an appearance at the bar, god forsaken well of poison that it was.That meant dealing with Mary May Fairgrave, however. As much fun as it was to rile her up, that was unfortunately an animosity he’d have to take a rain check on for another time. A crisp twenty dollar bill was enough to buy a few minutes of tolerance from her, when accompanied with a smile and a promise from John that he wasn’t here to cause trouble, simply to check on an acquaintance of his, and then he’d be out of her hair. That was a lie…but a good enough one that no one would hold him to it without looking unreasonable and biased. Not that being unreasonable and biased was unusual in this particular venue, sadly, but that was a well known, common effect of alcohol. One the two of them were both aware of. Mary May had scoffed, warned him not to linger longer than he had to, but had pocketed the cash. They’d done this before—and she knew well enough that he wasn’t interested in being served a beer for his money. All the more She’d consider that a victory, a few worthless dollars taken from Eden’s Gate and in her pocket instead. Typical greedHis on-going issues with Mary May not withstanding…John had not come in under the paper-thin guise of intending to drink. No, he’d had a much more reasonable excuse of seeking out another potential member-to-be, who had not officially joined the Project yet. All the man had to do was play a part: drinking away his woes, his depression, his awareness in its entirety—a common enough ailment with a common enough response: poison them into submission until they thanked you for it, paid for it as a privilege. No one would question it.And no one would question John coming in to apparently try to reel the so-called “vulnerable” man in, hook, line, and sinker. All the sinners saw was the fact that the man had money, land, wealth. That was all they saw. That was all they assumed John saw too. Assumed that was what he was after, trying to “coax” the man further into joining the Project At Eden’s Gate. That of course had been more than enough to stir the ire of some of the locals. And with an off-duty Deputy on the scene? John had harbored no doubts it would lead to an opportunity to talk. Talk to this Deputy who had walked away…instead of breaking the first seal. Instead of heralding the Collapse.Joseph had been expecting the Collapse. Had been expecting the sinners to try to take him, the way that barking Marshal had.But the Deputy had refused.How interesting. Even more interesting was how swift the Deputy’s response had been, interposing himself between John and the rabble-rousers as quickly and naturally as falling rain. John had found himself staring at the back of the other man’s head, black hair trimmed close and neat, his silhouette a stark-edged shadow of a man imposing and broad shouldered, wrapped in a thin, grey cotton tee and denim blue jeans. It’d made him seem so strangely ordinary, like he was blending in when he should have been standing out, should have registered as a threat. Because he was a threat, no doubt about that.The drunkards had completely missed it. Unsurprising, the buffoons. They’d been startled, and then predictably mad, redirecting their anger to the obstacle that stood in the way of them indulging in their sins.It’d been the first time John had heard the Deputy speak.“Stand down.” Two words, quiet enough to be missed if the bar had been noisy at the time.Quiet…but not meek. Not weak. It was the quiet of knowing. Knowing just what one’s own self was capable of. The lack of fear that came with power…and clarity.The Deputy had found some revelation of his own at some point then, John was certain.The sinners obviously had not stood down, and had, predictably, taken the first swing at Deputy Rook, as John had expected of them, based on what he’d known of their character.He had not expected Deputy Rook to put all three men down with such quick and clean efficiency. No wounding or serious injury, just enough force to subdue, just enough pain to quiet.Beautiful. That had been a beautiful display of skill. Of violence, so pinpoint and precise, it’d been almost gentle. The Deputy had been moving so smoothly and gracefully, he’d almost seemed to slow down, moving just fast enough to anticipate the men flailing around him like they were extras in a slapstick comedy.It’d been too easy. Too smooth. Too pretty.The Deputy wasn’t even challenged by this.He was holding back.That interested John immensely.The Deputy’s head turned, just enough to catch John in his peripheral vision as John circled to one side. The moment was long, before the tension was snipped as easily as the Fates cutting a thread, and the Deputy looked away towards where Mary May was moving towards them with a scowl half a mile long. The Deputy pointed to the phone, and Mary May stopped, her glower fading somewhat as understanding trickled in. She gave a sharp nod, unhappy about all this not because of the brawl, but because it involved John Seed as all present company could tell from the dirty look she shot him before she turned to call the Sheriff’s Department.“Deputy.”The Deputy didn’t look at John, only barely moving his head again to draw John back into the periphery of his gaze, never looking at him directly, head canting a tiny bit to one side as if listening, as if to say go ahead, I’m listening.

There was a faint trace of wariness in the Deputy’s expression.He still wouldn’t look at John.That rankled most of all, and piqued John’s curiosity in equal measures.Why? Why was the Deputy acting like this? What reason did he have for these little eccentricities? Eccentricities that heretofore, had never been remarked upon? The odd stretches of silence in place of words, the select self-expression through subdued gestures and looks alone…the choices made, both then and now.John had to try something. “Declan.”That got the Deputy’s attention, enough for that pair of dark brown eyes almost darkened to black in how the light fell.John smiled, a little victory well worth the cost of this trip into a den of inequity. Nothing substantial, yet. But a foot in the door was all he needed.“Thank you for your services, Deputy, though if I might ask…why did you step in so quickly? Nothing had happened yet, and it is your night off, isn’t it?”The Deputy looked at John for a long, long, long moment…before tilting his head another inch to one side.It was vaguely infuriating in that the Deputy was clearly communicating something but John wasn’t familiar enough with the man to know what. An emotional state of being, and some form of sentiment, yes, not an indication regarding their surroundings or to draw John’s attention to some other event starting up around them.Why was he so quiet? The word from the grapevine had given no previous indication he’d been anything but an ordinary man in the day to day portraiture of his character according to John’s sources.John could hear the crunch and crackle of dirt under car tires outside—back up likely. What a short window of time that had been, the other Deputy must have been nearby when the call went out to dispatch then.He had time for one more question then. “Why didn’t you simply walk away? Just sent out a call and let your colleague pick up the job.”John already knew, it was why he’d staged this entire self-contained mess. Deputy Declan Rook was a man of duty, that much Nancy had been sure of.What he was asking, really asking, was why Deputy Declan had walked away, through the allusion of word choice buried in a seemingly innocent question.He could tell that the Deputy got it. That the other man understood, just by the minute shift in his expression as he looked at John.But still the Deputy said nothing.“Rook, you alright? Mary May called up and said you’d been in a bar fight,” Deputy Hudson said, the sound of her footsteps filling the silence in place of any answer Deputy Rook might have given.“Or rather ended one, from the looks of things,” She concluded, eying the pile of groaning men upon the floor.The Deputy’s attention was on Hudson now, shaking his head and giving her a little reassuring smile, as if to say no injuries, I’m fine, as are they, just a little banged up.How disappointing, and how strange.But the little furrow of Hudson’s brow in addition to the slight frown upon her face when she looked at Deputy Rook was more promising.

This was relatively new behavior to her as well then, not just Deputy Rook choosing to be oddly silent in the moment. She didn’t understand why the Deputy was behaving so oddly either.She most certainly was not happy upon laying eyes on John himself though. He plastered on yet another smile, knowing exactly how this conversation was going to go down, her taking a statement, and the whole matter dwindling down as to yet another weekend dust-up to write up and add to the paperwork at the Sheriff’s Department.But Deputy Rook was hiding something. Holding back, as he had in the fight earlier. Holding back even as he was now with Deputy Hudson as they sorted out the aftermath of the fight.It left John with more questions than he’d started. But he had gotten a few new answers among it all.How interesting.

#Far Cry 5 #FC5 #Walk Away AU #fanfiction #FC5 fanfiction #Deputy Declan Rook #John Seed #one-shot #prompt writing #prompt response #thank you for the ask!! :D ♥#chyrstis #tumblr mobile app may eat all the spacing and paragraph structure #RIP mobile

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