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#as i so often do. my joy literally left my body in an instant and i went to delete the message. but then i stopped myself
writingoddess1125 · 5 months
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You Get Buggy a Corgi
Cute Headcanon
Pure Fluff
◇ Bonus has some mild sadness
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• Buggy has always wanted a Corgi- He's never talked about it but you did see he has a Corgi shaped pillow in his room that he's apparently had since he was a child-
• So you decide to get him one as a gift for his birthday.
• He always had big birthday bashes and it was the biggest party imaginable- The whole crew with more alcohol and food then a gods banquet while Buggy sat in the center jovial and proud.
• You walk over with a box in hand and carefully set it down infront of him, He raises a brow at the lack of flashy decoration on the brown box and pops open the lid with a unamused expression
• There a little head pops up and everyone stares at the happy Corgi face looking st Buggy and the blue bow around its neck
• His whole face flushes as you can quite literally see the childlike joy shine in his eyes- A bright smile on his face as he sets the puppy in his lap.
• "Her name is Guppy" You say as he mumbles the name and glances up at you. "She's mine?"
• "Yep! She's fully trained and apparently does really well on ships from what the shelter said" You say softly, but you're sure he isn't even paying attention to you as the dog seems to instantly love Buggy and scales him with her little body to press her face against his. You can quite literally see his heart melt.
• Clearly Guppy is his favorite gift ever since he doesn't pay attention to anything else accept for Guppy the rest of the night.
• You also get a special reward for bringing a wonderful gift.
• Guppy is absolutely a velcro dog- Loving to be at Buggys side 24/7 and follow him around. He gets her a red bandana so she's easy to spot at all times. If there is anything dangerous he will leave her behind but be sad about it-
• Later finds out she yaps like crazy when he's not there and cries loudly.
• She sleeps on him constantly, sometimes waking him up since she will curl directly over his face suffocating him.
• 'Mrph!- 'Upeee!!" {Guppy!} And ge carefully scoots her on the pillow next to his head so he can breath and go back to sleep-
• Guppy acts as a sort of Therapy dog for Buggy as well- When his temper or anxiety get him worked up to were he would usually destroy his room she will instead lay on his chest and force him to stay still as he Pets her and works himself down from a rage.
• She is also the perfect pillow for him to cry on. So he has pressed his face gently into her fur and just cried- Often she licks the tears away.
• Doesnt wear as heavy of makeup since he knows she likes to lick his face and doesn't want the grease paint to make her sick-
• Will also carry her- Say if the waters are too choppy but she doesn't want to be left he will just carry her like a baby to make sure she doesn't slide around or get hurt.
• If anyone- and I mean ANYONE Dares to mess with his dog he will absolutely go ape-shit... Think insulting his nose is instant death- Hurt his dog and he will come up with the worse ways to kill a person slowly-
• He probably loves Guppy more then any living person and makes sure she has a wonderful healthy life.
Bonus!-
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• "Hey Buggy can I ask?- Why do you like Corgi's so much?" You ask laying next to him on the floor of his cabin. He pauses for a moment as he thinks.
• "Lots of reasons- They are soft, sweet, overall really loving and they are a little odd which I like.. But-" He pauses for a second.
• "...It's kinda weird but.. my first memory in life was of a Corgi and my mother-" He admitted and you looked surprised by this, asking for him to explain which he rolled his eyes but agreed.
• "It was the day she dropped me off at the orphanage.. She handed me that corgi pillow you see on my bed and some berry she shoved in my pockets. Telling me that she had to leave me here to make sure I was safe from bad guys-" He said calmly, but you could hear the hurt in his tone.
• "But if I was every in a situation were it was truly life or death all I had to say with three words and I'd be okay. Then she kisses my forehead and left. It's my first and last memories of her- A few years later Roger's picking me up to be his apprentice" He admitted as Guppy lived his face clearly sensing some sadness.
• "Im... I'm so sorry-.. What were the three words?" You asked now circus, but you saw the way his eyes drifted to you briefly
• "Eh- That's a story for a different time" He said with a smile and waved it off. Watching how he pet Guppy some more.
• However you laid there stewing.. 3 words?
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fiofo · 2 years
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Spending the weekend with my family was fun, but exhausting...
We went to my cousin's wedding, and it was lovely and all things wonderful (as a wedding should be).
Turns out I'm not 100% recovered from Covid though, so I managed to dance to one song (Get Ready For This by 2 Unlimited - I requested it lol) before becoming absolutely knackered. Although, I was knackered by about 7pm. I hadn't realised just how much it had affected my stamina. It's a sort of joke that I feel tired pretty much all the time anyway, so it's been hard to tell whether it affected me on that score. Turns out: it has!
We left at quarter to 9, since my dad had been given caffeinated coffee, which he's allergic to (he'd asked for decaf, but I guess people don't realise how serious it can be), and it made him feel awful. Plus he was our designated driver.
I think my sister was pissed at having to leave early. I was happy to go, because the aforementioned knackeredness, also we were sitting on quite possibly the most uncomfortable chairs I'd ever had the misfortune to place my delicate, bony arse upon. Also also, my dad's car gives me instant backache, seemingly, and I'd sat in it for 2 hours the previous day, plus another hour getting to the church, then the venue that day. Also also also, I was wearing those amazing shoes, but they turned out to be a tad uncomfortable (figures... I knew they'd be too high).
The weekend was also mentally exhausting, due to general socialising (which I'm most definitely out of practice with) and there being a fuck-load of people in one smallish room; something I'd not seen since pre-Covid times.
Furthermore, my mum's turned into this overly-critical, negative-energy-vampire type-person, which is pretty hypocritical of her, considering how often she's banged on about "thinking positive" and all that bollocks.
For example, at the church there was a tiny area available for parking, and mum was just criticising every single person that pulled up, saw the situation, and drove somewhere else to park. "Why can't they park in front of us?" and "We're all going to the same place afterwards - you could get another 3 or 4 cars in here!" Just the same thought process over and over again. Same issue for when the Travelodge we were staying at had no breakfast available. She complained about it a good 10 times. I have very little patience for people in general, but it was really at breaking point by then.
I just don't know how to deal with her when she gets like this. We'll be going down south in August to visit her side of the family, but thankfully I've booked my own hotel room this time, so I don't have to either a) sleep on my aunt and uncle's sofa (I'm 32. I'm too old to be doing sofa-based weekends!) or b) stay with the aunt and uncle who have a nasty habit of commenting on mine and my sister's bodies. Like, in a very uncomfortable way. Plus they never shut up. And last time they dropped me off at my other aunt & uncle's as often as possible to get rid of me, since I've never been very good at disguising the way I feel about people, and I guess they picked up on it...
But anyway, I'm really hoping mum will have gotten over her weird negativity spiral thing that she's in atm. Worried that she's turning into her other sister who is this actual Pit of Despair of a human, and you can't spend more than half an hour in her company without wanting to kill yourself (sorry for being flippant, but she will literally make you feel like there's no joy left in the world). We haven't seen her in some time and I don't want mum to become Like That.
Sorry for the rant and long post! The rest of the wedding was really fun and lovely, I'm just so tired and sore (seriously, my arse is still bruised 2 days later, I swear!)
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sheerxfiction · 3 years
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Notes [Trafalgar Law X Reader]
Description: You’ve been having a shit time with life, locking yourself away in your room for long periods of time. Law won’t be having any of that though, and he entices you to come out through the use of little notes.
A/N: Literally everyone’s master list is fucked right now lmao thanks tumblr. Anyway I totally typed this up in the back room of my shop because there is n o  o n e here. It’s also about time I fed the people that followed me for One Piece content lmao oopsies. 
Word Count: 1555
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Sometimes, bad days catch up with you and you can no longer fight them off. It had already been a rather horrid week for you, but today was the final straw for your mental health. You lacked the desire to get out of bed this morning, and you remained beneath your sheets locked away in your room well into the afternoon, ignoring every knock on your door. The only person you bothered to give a response to was your significant other Law, but it was a short and muffled little ‘not now’ to kindly decline his request to come in as nicely as you could manage. You wanted to be alone for now, so no one bothered you once they realised you wouldn’t be coming out, allowing you to sit in your misery as you fought to try and fix your mood.
Hours had passed by now, and you could tell the sub had docked somewhere by the sound of rapid footsteps above that indicated people were leaving the sub. Not even the thought of a new island to explore could bring you from your sheets though, so you remained bundled up in your blankets with nothing but a blank stare. At least there would be peace and quiet now. Perhaps you could even fall back asleep to get the day to go by faster. Just as you closed your eyes to try and leave the world once again, the faint sound of paper sliding on the floor could be heard, catching your attention. You didn’t remember leaving any papers out, so none could have possibly fallen from anywhere. Curiosity having finally struck you hard enough to get you to sit up, you slowly turned to where you heard the sound come from to find out exactly what had disturbed your silence.
When you looked over at your door, your eyes came to rest on an envelope that sat neatly a few inches away from said door. It had clearly been slid underneath for you, and you stared at it for a good moment before you sighed and gave in, pushing your bundle of sheets off of your body.
“Who the hell is sliding notes under my door?” You mumbled to yourself as you swung your feet off of your bed and paced over to the little envelope. 
When you bent over to pick it up, you found the envelope to be decorated with drawn hearts, the name written on the front of it being ‘My Dearest’. It was clearly from Law, that much was apparent. It was even sealed with black wax accented in gold, displaying exactly how much love he put into such a trivial little thing. It was quite typical of him, and it earned a little scoff from you as you pulled at the seal and took out the note inside to read it. 
‘Hello my dear, it is well into the afternoon by now; but I’m sure you knew that already. You can’t remain cooped up in your room all day, so I had everyone leave the sub so you can get some coffee in peace. Not a soul is on board but me, but I promise I will leave you be for now. Grab a snack while you’re at it too. Your beauty cannot be sustained on oxygen alone, my dear. Let it flourish and feed yourself. ♥’
Simply reading the sweetness of his note made you blush as you neatly folded it back up and held onto it tightly. How could he make you blush without even being near you? The man truly had a way with words, both in writing and by his tongue. With a sigh, you decided to listen to his request and finally leave your room to get yourself a cup of coffee, opening your door for the first time in quite a few days.
What he wrote in his note was truthful. Not a soul could be seen or heard on the sub. All the halls were empty, leaving you with a peaceful and welcoming silence where you would not be pestered by questions. You sighed with relief, thankful that you were alone, and you then made your way to the kitchen to go and brew yourself a nice warm cup of coffee. Upon entering the kitchen, you noticed something a little out of place. Sticking to the kettle for boiling water was a tiny white card, and you could only assume that it was yet another note from Law. Plucking the card from the kettle, your assumption was made to be correct when you flipped it over to see more neat handwriting on the back of it. 
‘Just reminding you that you still look absolutely gorgeous even in pyjamas you’ve worn for three days straight. There’s a bagel already toasted for you just off to the side for while you wait for the water to boil darling.’
“Tch, he’s so sickeningly sweet sometimes.” You scoffed, sliding the little note into the envelope with the other one, a ghost of a smile donning your features for a moment. 
A wave of happiness came over you briefly thanks to his little notes, relieved to feel a bit of joy after sulking for so long. Placing the envelope of wholesome notes down on the counter, you began to boil some water and snack on the surprisingly still warm bagel that was set to the side. While waiting for the water to boil, you finished the bagel and hopped up onto the counter, reading over the notes a couple more times to really take in the sweetness of your lover. It turned out to be that you were a lot more hungry than you thought, so the snack was definitely appreciated. When the water finished boiling, you made yourself a cup of simple instant coffee so sip on as you sat on the counter, completely at peace with the warm caffeinated delight. 
When you finished, you gently set the cup down into the sink and pushed yourself off of the counter to go and make your way back to your room, envelope in hand as you paced the halls. Upon arriving back at your room though, you saw your door to be slightly cracked open, which wasn’t how you had left it before. Someone was there obviously, so you cautiously pushed the door open to see exactly who, and found Law sitting cross legged on your bed, holding one of your pillows. He looked up  at you when he heard the door creak open, his gaze being warm and sympathetic. 
“I broke my promise of leaving you alone. Sorry about that.” He said, breaking the silence.
“Now that I’m up, I really don’t mind too much since it’s just you. I do have one question for you though.” You responded, coming inside and shutting the door. “What’s with all the notes?”
“To cheer you up of course. I know you’re having a bad time right now, so I figured I’d try to help a bit. Speaking of which…” He mused, pausing for a moment.
The familiar blue tint of his devil fruit power filled your room, and soon you went from your door to his lap in mere seconds as he switched your place with the pillow he was previously holding. You gasped in surprise as his arms secured around you, his hands clutching your waist and shoulders respectively. 
“You know you can come to me whenever you’re not feeling well, right? You don’t have to suffer alone with your emotions.” He mumbled sweetly as he placed a kiss on your neck.
“I know… I just, I don’t want to burden you or anyone else with my emotional issues.” You mumbled apologetically, leaning into his touch.
“It hurts me to watch you fight your battles alone. Come to me _______, and remember that I love you no matter what.” He reassured you. 
Law then trailed his kisses up your neck, tilting your head back so he could then capture your lips with his. The pleasant feeling of his soft lips against yours brought you back down to earth, easing your worries as you leaned into him lovingly. Though it was brief, you felt completely uplifted and so much brighter, gazing up at him with a soft expression when he pulled back.
“I should listen to you more often. I feel a lot better than I was now.” You sighed, shifting your weight to lean into him. 
“Doctors are usually right.” He chuckled. “Now how would you feel about coming outside? The island we’ve stopped at is rather pretty, and there’s still a few more hours to go until the log pose sets. Care for a small adventure?” He then offered. 
“Yes, I think I can do that now.” You nodded. “Just let me change and I’ll be good to go.”
Happy that you were willing to go outside, Law let you get up and quickly dress yourself in something more appropriate for the outdoors. When you were ready, you both headed outside together, hand in hand as your bad mood eased out of existence. Normally you were the one to pull him from his slumps and crabby moods, but today it seemed that the rolls had switched. Honestly, you couldn’t be more glad that they did. 
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oftenderweapons · 3 years
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Sooo, about the ask thing. First off all congratulations I love you and your writing 💜 you seem like such a nice, intelligent and funny person. But was thinking what if namjoon comes home drunk and guilty about something he did and vixen comforts him. Love u💋
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Title: Drunk (&) In Love
Pairing: Namjoon x reader (nicknamed Vixen)
Wordcount: 2.6k
Genre: crack, fluff, (also, vaguely allusive)
Rating: 18+ cause THESE TWO ARE A MESS FOR EACH OTHER
Synopsis: apparently Namjoon's stag party went a bit too wild. Mostly since he was drinking guilt away. What could that possibly be about?
Trigger warnings: swearing, consumption of alcohol, horny!drunk Joon, he clumsily tries to seduce his fianceé in front of yoonjintae (second-hand embarrassment), stressing over vows, mentions of kinky letters, they discuss future and the fear of marrying young and pretty much out of the blue and they be mentioning the idea of having kids. Also, watch Vixen being the caregiver.
Author's note: Thanking the sweetheart @ironicarmy !!! I love exchanging WIPs and Beta reading! It was so fun and I AM LOVING YOUR WIP SO HARD IM GONNA EXPLODE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! can't wait for it to be out so I can fangirl in public LOLOLOL; also thanking @dopesportsoperatorzonk for this request! (I got your feminism ask, I promise I'm almost done, I wanted to have a quite thorough view before replying and I'm still thinking about some stuff, but it'll be readdy super soon!!!)
Here's my masterlist, btw, and enjoy 💜✨
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You weren't supposed to wait up for him, but it was like your sixth sense was telling you to do precisely that. And your premonition turned especially accurate once you were met with the sorry sight of Namjoon hanging off Taehyung's and Seokjin's body, grinning as he saw you appear at the door, head to toe smitten, only to turn to his friends with a sneer as he realised you were wearing his favourite silk robe. The deep crimson colour seemed to spark the colour of your hair on fire, and make the lineaments of your face sharper, older, with a kind of allure he still couldn't understand. “Little fox,” he said, going grabby hands while his arms were still around his friends' shoulders.
You tried to keep your expression stern as you looked at the two men literally holding him up. “What is this? Didn't I tell you to bring him home whole and safe?”
Taehyung lowered his gaze to the floor.
“Is this your idea of safe, Seokjin? I expected better.”
“You know him. He did this to himself.” Yoongi spoke neutrally from behind the three.
“Yoongi. Him being a fucking grizzly doesn't mean he can hold his liquor. Bring him in,” you said, freeing the entryway for the triplet coming in, Yoongi in tow.
“We should have brought him to the dorms,” he muttered.
“Dorms?!? Aneeyo…” Namjoon babbled, shaking his head, falling with his ass on the sofa. “No babylove in dorms,” he said with a hiccup. “Hello, little one,” he purred, grabbing your hips and trying to pull you towards him.
You blushed and slapped at his wrists. “I'll deal with you later—”
“Feisty brat,” he spoke sultrily, making Yoongi shake his head while Seokjin and Taehyung snickered before being chastised by your scolding stare.
“How come he's drunk off his ass and the three of you are perfectly okay?”
“He's the one getting married,” Taehyung replied, matter of factly. “And yes, he was the one who swallowed a bottle of hard liquor without even flinching.”
You glance at Namjoon with a scornful expression.
He did some very drunk, very clumsy attempt at a wink that made you inhale as you desperately looked for a crumb of patient left.
“You'd better go home, before I smack you all on the head,” you said, shooing them off.
“You'd have to reach it first,” Taehyung muttered, making Seokjin giggle, Yoongi rubbing his face at the verbal violence that was about to come.
“Kim Taehyung. I may not be tall enough for your royal head, but your girlfriend is my best friend. I won't say much more because I'm sure your friends aren't interested in your ass getting bruised.”
Yoongi smiled smugly at that one.
“Hell yeah…” Namjoon chuckled from the sofa, one hand reaching for the back of your thigh.
“No. Not now.”
“Later then?” He asked with puppy eyes before they turned into a very tipsy version of his intense dragon glance. “You’re so sexy when you’re mean,” he rumbled, a hand reaching for your thigh underneath the robe.
“Kim Namjoon, if you don’t stop I will unwife you in this instant.” Still, the other three men in the room were a mess of embarrassed coughing and teasing snorts. “You can all go home right now,” you said with a curt tone.
“You’re not gonna be able to take him to bed by yourself.” Yoongi cocked an eyebrow as he spoke calmly.
“Mh, Vixen, take me to bed, please,” Namjoon murmured as he tried to seduce you, just as you looked at him and replied, “No need to take him to bed. He’s sleeping on the sofa tonight.”
“See? I told you she found out! She has a sixth sense for this stuff! She can sense it! She can smell fear! I told you!!!” Namjoon babbled, grabbing your wrist. “Little fox...” he cooed, making a fool of himself.
“Go home. All of you. Now.”
Taehyung was the first to leave without even saying goodbye. He knew he would pay for it. Seokjin was the next, saying bye to Namjoon very briefly before bowing to you — just slightly. “I’m sorry for the inconvenience, goodnight,” he apologised, making his way out.
“Yoongi?”
He rubbed his neck. “I’m sorry. Really. I— I didn’t do my job.”
You shook your head. “This is a mess I’ll have to deal with.”
“You know you’ll kind of have to deal with him for the rest of your life, right?” Yoongi looked at Namjoon, head in his hands, fingers tugging at it nervously.
You followed his gaze, meeting Namjoon in the poorest of states. “I know. He’s my business now. Go.”
Yoongi left without much resistance after that, the door of your apartment finally shutting for good.
“I’m sorry,” Namjoon said, staring up at you as you stood before him. “I fucked up, I’m sorry.”
You placed your hands on his cheeks. “What happened, Joonie bear?”
He shook his head, lip going wobbly. “I’m so sorry!” he babbled again, eyes glossy with unshed tears.
“Oh, no, baby…” you managed to whisper before he dove for your lap, burying his face there. “What happened, love?”
He shook his head.
“Nothing’s gonna change the fact that I love you, big bear.” You caressed his hair as his voice confessed, half-muffled against your tummy.
“I sneaked a look at the dress.” You could hear his words coming out from a pout.
“Joonie—”
“Please don’t unwife me!” He cried out, his voice way too high pitched. “I don’t want to sleep alone ever.” He hugged your legs and held you closer. “I want to sleep next to you until I die.” He got even more emotional as he went on. “I want you to always pet my hair and tell me you’re proud of me and cook for me and be my sweetheart and my babylove and my little fox forever, even when we’re old and I get bald.”
You smiled and invited him to let go of your legs before sitting down, your legs slightly parted laying across the sofa. “Come here, big bear,” you said, patting your stomach. He did as he was told, laying his head below your chest and stretching his long body all over the seat. He struggled a little, his sense of balance temporarily worse than usual. “Soon I’ll be lawfully your bride. Forever. We’re almost there, honey. Just a week.”
He nodded.
“And then I’ll be your little fox until I’m nothing but ashes. And then some,” you reassured him, petting his lovely head, digging your fingers into the knots in his upper back.
“Writing the vows was so difficult.”
“I know baby,” you kept rubbing at his trapezoi until he released a relieved grunt. “I know that must have been really stressful for you.”
“I had to rewrite them sixteen times. Sixteen!” His hand absentmindedly reached your thigh and started rubbing small circles there. “Everytime, they were too long, or too cliché, or something I just couldn’t read in public because you know our letters.”
“I know our letters,” you confirmed, thinking about his messy handwriting on cheap paper, and entire sheets of words that he sent you everytime something important happened, everytime he had to travel for his job, everytime he just needed to make love to you on a deeper level. And then, thinking of your replies, always heartfelt, emotional, with fine calligraphy on expensive ivory sheets often marred with rough spots where a tear fell — most of the time because of joy and gratitude and obliterating, overwhelming love. “Will you read to me the other sixteen versions too, once we’re alone?”
He nodded. “I’ll read them all. I’ll write new ones every day. Small, simple, absolutely mundane. Stuff like, ‘I’ll do the dishes tonight’, or ‘Let’s go out for dinner’, or ‘I wanna grow old with you’ or ‘I don’t wanna watch that porn tonight, let’s just stare into each other’s eyes while naked and have the best tantric sex ever performed’.”
You chuckled and placed your hand atop of his. “I like the last one.”
“But I couldn’t say it in front of your parents, therefore I couldn’t write it in our vows.” He scoffed and shook his head before planting it between your breasts, nosing at the lapels of the robe until he could kiss your naked skin.
“I might have written something along those lines in one of my drafts.” Having this conversation with Namjoon while he was halfway drunk off his ass was extremely entertaining; however, you felt sad at the possibility of him not remembering this moment.
“What else did you write in that draft?” He closed his eyes, waiting for your soft voice to calm him down.
You smiled and slightly teared up at the thought, his chin propped on your chest, one of his thumbs reaching out to dry up a tear. “I wrote that I hope I get to make you smile every day and see that insanely cute and sexy dimple of yours every morning after you wake up. And I want to be the only one listening to your deep bedroom voice waking me up. And I want to listen to you as you talk to our children. I wanna hear all the stories, and watch your smile shine on their faces.”
Namjoon hid his face against your chest, feeling tears roll down his cheeks.
“I want them to have your eyes. I want to see your complete wonder as they learn about the world, as you teach them about the world in that grand and beautiful way you see it.” You sniffled and he cupped your face, kissing your lips so slowly, the heavy tang of liquor barely tainting the moment.
“I want to walk by your side, until we’re too tired to walk and watch time pass by, without worries, without haste. I don’t care where we’re walking because you were the place I was destined to be.”
Namjoon couldn’t explain tenderness or love or devotion or faith as deep as the ones he felt for you. He probably wasn’t skilled or trained enough.
“I know we’re young. I know this is more of a bet than an actual marriage. I’ve seen people who have been together for years part ways so easily and I don’t even know why you said yes to me. Sometimes I doubt I’m deserving and I see in how many ways I’m lacking and I ask myself, 'why the hell did she say yes to me?' ” He snickered sarcastically. “I wouldn’t have said yes to myself.”
You shook your head and kissed his brow.
“But I’ve been with other people and you have too and… I don’t know, sometimes I feel like this will take a lot of effort but then I hear you laugh, I hear you calling my name and I know, I can feel that that’s what it is supposed to sound like.”
You smiled at him, fixing your position so he could lay on you without worrying about smashing your body.
“I’m so confused and so grateful for this. It’s like… Suddenly winning the lottery. One minute you’re just a person and next you realise you’re going to be a husband. And you don’t know what’s going to happen to you, how your life is going to change, but with you I’m not scared.” He chuckled. “Well, I am. But you make me braver than my fears. And I know I could lose you any day. I could fuck up, or we could just drift apart or something. But any moment spent with you is bigger. It’s better and brighter.”
By now you were a teary mess, face drenched in tears, his arms around your torso as he held onto you. “My soul has found a home in you and I will cherish it. I’ll take care of that home. I’ll make sure nothing damages it. I’ll help you work on it if you want to change it. I will make more room when our family gets bigger. I will fix it when I can. I’ll stay by your side when I’m not skilled enough to heal you. To fix you.” He sniffled, voice hollow and weak as he spoke through a lump in his throat. “And I’ll leave if you ever ask me to.”
You shook your head and hugged him, letting him sob in your arms. “I hope I never lose you.”
“Don’t be a silly bear,” you comforted him, lulling him, holding him close to your heart. “I’ll be your bride. Your spouse. Your wife.” You kissed his head. “And your home. Your relief. Your dirty, secret affair. Your devoted companion too. Your goddess and your toy. I’ll be your friend. And the mother of your children, when we want to.”
God, if he wanted to… But first, he needed to enjoy having you all to himself for a couple more years. Just to make sure you hadn’t been both bold and immature and absolutely stupid about getting married almost two years after meeting for the first time.
“So I’m not getting unwifed for sneaking a peek at the dress?”
You shook your head. “It looks completely different once worn.”
“Really?” His expression exploded with euphoria.
You smiled. “Really.”
His drunken grin was back. “So I’m gonna sleep on the bed right?”
You acted as if you were even thinking about it. “You’re really drunk.”
“I’m soberer now.”
“And you embarrassed me in front of your friends,” you reminded him with a cocked eyebrow.
“Not my fault my wifey’s so hot,” he said with a slightly more accomplished wink.
“Not your wifey yet,” you reminded him.
He tutted. “Just a matter of days.” He kissed your sweet spot, on the side of your neck. “It’s only a technicality.”
You looked at him suspiciously. “A technicality, you say?”
He nodded and held you tighter.
“This technicality could still leave you at the altar, waiting,” you teased.
“Come on, I want to sleep next to you.” He kissed your cheek. “On our bed.” He kissed you again. “Where we’ll be making so many babies.”
“Stop right there, mister.” You placed a finger against his plush lips before you shook your head no. “No babies for a few years. I want you all mine, hubby.”
He chuckled and pressed his forehead against your chest bone. “Okay, fine, but I just meant hypothetically. You know, for practice.”
“Yeah, I think I could use some practice. I want to be perfect at it.”
He smiled and kissed your nose. If only she knew how perfect she is, he thought, haphazardly sitting up and waiting for you to help him on his feet, the whole discourse sobering him up enough that he managed to sit on the bench in the bathroom as you washed his face and brushed his teeth, as you undressed him and helped him in the shower, undressing and joining him, his body too tired and unstable to initiate anything fancy.
And then you towelled him up, rubbing body lotion on his always-too-dry legs before helping him in his boxers.
And through the process, he understood how it was that you loved him so much anytime he got you ready for bed. He should let you do this more often. Especially when he wasn’t exhausted or drunk, so he could properly enjoy being cuddled and fondled and babied.
What he didn’t expect was for it to feel so comfortable when you slid up against his back on the bed, spooning his ridiculously large body with your smaller one. “Sleep tight, big bear,” you said before kissing his nape. “Eight more sleeps and we’ll be married.”
He smiled. “Goodnight, little fox.” And with that, he caught your hand in his and fell asleep.
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reminisce05-20 · 3 years
Text
Dazai - The Book - Double Black
Dazai couldn't remember being a child, one of elementary age. He had only started to remember when he was around 14, which was when he first met Mori.
Sometimes, he wondered if he should be searching for answers, of who his parents could've been or where he came from, but he had easily moved on. Perhaps too easily, but he had no regrets. After all, the past didn't define him. He could write his own story from the present.
Only after words started to be written on his pale skin did he start to wonder who he really was.
Long sleeves could suffice, but just in case, Dazai wrapped bandages around his arms. Then his torso. Then up to his neck and finally his eye to give the air of an injury. The words hadn't spread quite that much, but it made his stomach crawl whenever he saw the squiggly lines all over his body. It was simply a precaution in case more words suddenly appeared.
Dazai soon met Chuuya, who was loud and angry and short, which made it even funnier when Dazai riled him up. Chuuya insisted that he was still young and growing. For the first time, Dazai wanted to laugh at the words he had seen yesterday on his elbow. Chuuya will never grow.
Although the words brought occasional joy, when he was 18, he saw words on the back of his left arm that said, Sakunosuke Oda will die. Sakunosuke couldn't die. His ability allowed him to see things moments before they actually happened, and Sakunosuke wasn't dumb. He would be fine.
He never had allowed the words on his arms and body to ever affect him. Words, in general, had never affected him since Dazai believed actions could speak much more.
"Be on the side that saves people. If both sides are the same, then choose to become a good person. Save the weak, protect the orphaned. You might not see a great difference between right and wrong, but... saving others is something just a bit wonderful."
For once, he took the words to heart.
Once, long ago when he was still young, not in the Detective Agency nor even the Mafia, Dazai had written something on his arm, something that tattooed itself to his arm for just a second before it burned away with terrible pain.
Dazai experimented. His ability, "No Longer Human", obviously canceled out abilities with no exception. The words were things to happen, things that were happening, and things that had happened. The timing for when the events actually took place differed, from as small as a minute to as long as a year. Dazai couldn't change events that were going to happen or create an entirely new one. It was probably a strange mix of the words and his ability.
Dazai had considered going to the President to inform him of the words. He was fairly sure that everyone else in the agency believed the bandages to be a fashion choice, excluding Ranpo and the President. He walked in front of the office door for a few minutes, pacing, before walking back to his desk. Perhaps the talk could be moved to another time.
The words were often too ugly to be shown to others.
Dazai was good at planning things, which made it entirely his fault that he hadn't prepared ahead for this.
A few days ago words had appeared on his collarbone, ones that said, "Chuuya will unleash Arahabaki once more. Secrets will be revealed." If Chuuya was going to showcase his powers, Dazai would no doubt be sent along unless Chuuya had managed to somehow subdue his powers effectively. Sure enough, he was sent to settle a dispute that would benefit both the Mafia and the Agency. It was always nice, seeing the top of Chuuya's hat, showing that he had indeed not grown a single bit.
He had misinterpreted the "secrets" on his arm. Dazai had expected it to be Chuuya's secrets, of how he stayed so short all the time.
In Arahabaki form, Chuuya had never attacked Dazai, at least not to kill. He had to have some semblance of control to not kill the only person that could bring him back, even if Chuuya hated him. But this time, right after defeating the enemy, Chuuya turned on him in an instant, giving Dazai no time to nullify his ability.
It would have been fine. Dazai only took a few hard hits before he tapped Chuuya on the head, nullifying his ability. They both staggered for a moment before Dazai laughed.
"Well, that was awfully close wasn't it, Chuuya?"
Chuuya huffed, angry but too tired to anything about it.
"Only if you had touched me a little earlier maybe you - hey what's that on your arm?"
Dazai froze before he looked at his left arm, bandages slightly unraveled, revealing the inky text on his arm.
"Some tattoo shit? Or maybe weird scars..."
Chuuya took a step forward while Dazai hurriedly rebandaged his arm with a hopefully winning grin.
"How observant of you."
Chuuya scowled for a second before staring at Dazai.
"Seriously, was it just some weirdo tattoo? Show me what you have written there."
Dazai made a mental note to seriously work out and train with Kunikida. Then again, it probably wouldn't bring him near Chuuya's level for a long time. Even after using Arahabaki, Chuuya stomped forward, grabbing his arm and unwrapping the bandage with unreasonable strength and speed. His control must have actually been getting better. Or maybe they had just defeated the enemy faster today.
"What the - what the heck is this Dazai?"
He didn't have the strength to stand properly, staggering a little bit while unsuccessfully trying to get out of Chuuya's iron grip.
"An occult tattoo I got when I was 14. It says 'fuck off Chuuya'."
"It literally says 'Sakunosuke Oda will die'. I've heard of that name before... who was that again?"
Out of all the sentences Chuuya could have seen, it had to be that one. Why not the one about Atsushi dropping his ice cream, or maybe the one about Chuuya's height? They could have laughed over that.
"This actually happened didn't it Dazai? Like, a few years ago?"
At this point, Dazai simply didn't care enough to wrench his wrist away from Chuuya. He had wanted to tell someone about this for so long. Chuuya and he didn't have the best relationship, but they could certainly trust each other. After all, they had been partners, right?
"It tells me things that are going to happen. Well, at the time of course. This already happened a while ago."
Chuuya simply stared, unsure of what to believe.
"I tried changing history once. It hurt really bad, I think it's got something to do with my goddamn ability, I hate seeing the words every day and having to bandage them - "
"Um... Dazai, calm down."
He hadn't realized he was breathing so heavily. His chest felt like it was burning.
It felt like it was burning just like when he was young - why was it like this when he hadn't written anything down on his skin?
"Dazai, what's going on?"
Dazai turned away from Chuuya before throwing his jacket off, then his vest, then his shirt to reveal the mass of bandages covering every inch of his skin.
"What the fuck Dazai, stop stripping in front of me - "
Dazai for once ignored Chuuya instead of sending back an angry retort. He unwrapped the bandages, not caring if Chuuya saw the words or not since the pain was burning as if he was dying and he wanted it to just stop. Stop stop stop.
The bandages were off to show the mass of writing on his back and arms and stomach and even up to his neck. Chuuya's breathing became softer, more confused and curious.
Chuuya will never grow.
Dazai will trip and fall on the doormat before meeting Akutagawa for the first time.
Sakunosuke Oda will die.
Atsushi will drop the ice cream Dazai bought for him and will be horrified.
More evil will soon come in Yokohama.
Chuuya will unleash Arahabaki once more. Secrets will be revealed.
Chuuya simply stared, dumbfounded, trying to read everything written on Dazai's back. Dazai on the other hand, looked down at the center of his chest to see just a few words.
Yokohama's Page - By Osamu Dazai.
The words were a gleaming gold, burning his skin before suddenly cooling into the familiar black, only a small golden border on the edges of each letter. Chuuya had now walked in front of him, kneeling, reading the words that had just appeared.
"So. You're some special shit."
Dazai let out a flat laugh. Indeed he was.
"It says 'More evil will soon come in Yokohama'. Right, Dazai?"
Dazai nodded blindly. He couldn't remember that one, but maybe it was because it was on his back. It was hard to read from a mirror.
"You should tell your agency this. Have you told them?"
Dazai's silence was the same as a confirmation. Chuuya mumbled something about how he always had to make his life worse, although Dazai knew that it was halfhearted.
After Dazai put on every single one of his bandages, thoroughly covering every inch of skin along with his other clothes, Chuuya and he walked in silence for a little. Usually, they would've been arguing all the way back, making the silence feel even worse.
"Oy. Dazai."
Chuuya growled when Dazai didn't make any move to answer before sighing and backing down. Dazai blinked, seeing that for the first time, Chuuya had backed down from an argument.
"We were partners before. Are we still partners?"
Dazai smiled.
"If we're partners, I'll be annoying you all day! I think that'd be pretty nice ~ "
"Well fuck you too!"
It was nice, feeling the usual annoyance flowing through Chuuya, the same remarks they always passed forth to each other.
"So you're saying we are partners, Dazai."
Dazai's eyes narrowed. What was with Chuuya being overly... nice all of a sudden? Being so calm?
Chuuya, catching Dazai's eyes screeched again before kicking over a trash can.
"I'm saying I can help you with this goddamn book shit! Words! Partners! The fuck is wrong with you?"
Dazai stared as Chuuya knocked over a few more trash cans while screaming about how utterly dumb Dazai could be for someone that was supposed to be so smart, so crafty, and so manipulative.
The familiar tickle of more words caused Dazai to flinch, hand moving toward his neck where the words seemed to be. Chuuya, who was done with his little fit, stopped for a second before walking over, no doubt intrigued. Dazai tugged the bandages down a little bit while Chuuya read the words out loud.
"Fyodor Dostoevsky is looking for another part of the book in Yokohama."
Dazai's eyes widened when he heard the name, and Chuuya no doubt understood that this man was someone dangerous if they could elicit such a reaction from Dazai. They looked at each other, understanding passing through their eyes.
"Well, I guess we're partners again Chuuya!"
"Only because I fucking have to!"
Dazai supposed that he would also have to tell the Agency about this. And as more people knew, the news would inevitably spread to the Mafia too. He only had to make sure that Fyodor didn't receive the information, and that was if Fyodor didn't already know about him.
"Fucking Dazai."
Chuuya grabbed Dazai's hair and pulled, forcing Dazai to yelp while batting Chuuya's hands away.
"We're going to crush this bastard Fyodor."
Dazai laughed at the sheer amount of determination in Chuuya's name, laughing like he never had ever before.
Indeed, Double Black would crush the enemy like they always did.
___________________________
Kind of an abrupt end, but you get the idea :>
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little-mad · 3 years
Text
A Seat at the Table Pt. 2 (Final)
~ Part 1 ~
After Gavin’s initial outburst had passed, breakfast went on smoothly and uneventfully, much to Rael’s relief. He was unprepared to address Gavin’s inquiries about why they couldn’t eat in the dining hall, because to be frank, Rael didn’t really have an answer.
Logically, Rael knew none of the soldiers would dare make a move against someone explicitly under the Emperor’s protection--and yet he couldn’t shake the feeling of paranoia that clouded his mind every time he pictured other alteons around the human. Maybe they wouldn’t attack Gavin, but what if they said something cruel? Something even Gavin wouldn’t be able to shake?
Simply being in this realm was dangerous for Gavin, therefore Rael needed to take as many steps as possible to minimize the risk. Honestly, he didn’t understand why the human had any desire to dine among the alteon soldiers; it wasn’t as though his previous experience with one had left a particularly great impression. Of course, Gavin did have a knack of surprising Rael. There was much more to the tiny man than he’d initially expected.
“Patrols are much more interesting than boring guard duty,” Gavin remarked from where he sat on Rael’s shoulder.
Seeing as constantly having his hands occupied with carrying a human was more than a little impractical, the two of them had needed to determine an alternative. Rael’s first idea of using a belt pouch hadn’t gone over very well with Gavin, and so they had ended up settling on the shoulder.
At first, Rael had been tentative about placing the human so high up. A fall from such a height would no doubt be deadly for someone of Gavin’s size. Gavin had come up with the solution of tucking himself under one of the leather straps of Rael’s armor, that way he had something holding him down as well as something to grip onto.
While Rael had agreed to the set-up, he still couldn’t help but send frequent uneasy glances at the human. It was difficult not to feel the need to be constantly vigilant when he was with Gavin. The little guy was just so fragile. The slightest misstep or wrong move could prove disastrous to him.
“Are you taking the same route as the last time?” Gavin inquired, his voice so near to Rael’s ear that he didn’t even need to raise it at all.
Rael shook his head, careful not to disturb Gavin’s position. “No, this time we’re patrolling the grounds,” he explained. As beautiful as the palace interior was, it could feel a bit stuffy after a while, especially with so many nobles and other important figures milling about and scrutinizing everyone around them. Since he had Gavin now, that particular aspect of the indoors was even less appealing.
“Great, I could use the fresh air,” Gavin commented just as Rael stepped out into the early morning sunlight.
-
Same as it had been the past couple days, Rael’s job proved fairly uneventful. A dull occupation was not something Gavin was used to. It was hard to get bored when you were a thief. Even intel gathering stakeouts often came with a healthy dose of intrigue. However, he had to be grateful for the mundane nature of Rael’s patrol, because things getting exciting also meant things getting dangerous.
A couple hours into the patrol and Gavin was convinced this one would be as uneventful as the rest. He had taken to resting his tired eyes, without Rael’s knowledge of course, when suddenly he felt his trusty giant steed’s walking come to an abrupt stop.
“Hey, what the--” No sooner had Gavin’s eyes opened that his vision was filled with a pair of giant hands reaching towards him. He instantly recoiled, though sitting on a shoulder, he had nowhere to retreat to.
Long fingers wrapped themselves around Gavin’s body, and with seemingly no effort whatsoever, they broke his iron-like grip on the leather strap and lifted him free.
Immediately, Gavin’s mind went to Kaydin, the thug who had tried to abduct him in the woods. However, there was something familiar about the hands surrounding his body; their grasp was firm but gentle, as though they intended to protect rather than harm.
When everything came to a halt and the hands were no longer in motion, Gavin was finally able to make some sense of the situation. He was being held in the relaxed fist of one hand, while the other one was cupped under the bottom so that his feet touched the palm. This left only the upper half of Gavin’s chest and above sticking out the top.
Gavin’s first move was to glance behind himself to find out just who had so abruptly snagged him from his perch. A wave of relief washed over him as he realized the perpetrator was none other than Rael...shortly followed by a wave of irritation at the sudden relocation.
“Woah, you seem a little defensive, Rael.” An instant feeling of dread began to steal over Gavin. He knew that voice, he’d had nightmares about that voice.
Slowly he turned back around. As expected, there stood Ashryn: Gavin’s least favorite alteon--which was impressive considering there existed an alteon who’d tried to kidnap and sell him on the blackmarket.
“I have been tasked with protecting our human guest, so it is my job to be defensive,” Gavin heard Rael state icily. There was no hint of the polite courtesy that had been present during he and Ashryn’s last interaction--something that Gavin was definitely pleased about.
“Ah, that’s right,” Ashryn remarked, seemingly unfazed by Rael’s less than friendly disposition. “A shame you got saddled with such an unfavorable task.”
If blood physically had the ability to boil, Gavin was sure his would be bubbling like crazy at this point. He had to literally bite down on his own tongue to prevent a vulgar string of insults from flying out of his mouth. Ashryn clearly had a unique knack for triggering the latent rage that lay within Gavin, but he wouldn’t let himself fall for the same trap twice. Getting angry was exactly the kind of reaction Ashryn was looking for.
“I’m honored to have been granted this assignment actually.” Gavin’s fury was temporarily forgotten at Rael’s unexpected words. “The Emperor specifically entrusted it to me after all.”
Glancing over his shoulder, Gavin caught sight of Rael’s hardened expression as he unwaveringly met Ashryn’s gaze. The guy was notoriously difficult for Gavin to get a read on, but he could swear he saw not even a shred of fear or uncertainty in those striking teal eyes of his.
Turning back forward, Gavin could tell the smug smile on Ashryn’s face had taken on a tight quality. He had a feeling the asshole wasn’t particularly used to being stood up to.
“Oh, well I was concerned it may have been more of a punishment than anything,” Ashryn stated. The naive innocence in his tone was nauseatingly artificial.
“I’m not sure you understand just how important it is to the Emperor that our relationship with humans remain positive,” Rael countered smoothly, as though he’d practiced this very conversation in his head countless times.
Ashryn’s smile began to falter, distinct irritation now flashing in his eyes. “You seem quite sure you know the Emperor’s intentions,” he commented coldly.
“Evidently better than you do,” came Rael’s quick reply, and Gavin nearly let slip a bark of laughter. He’d proven it before, but this was just further proof that Rael was clearly quite skilled with his words. If he’d grown up on earth, Gavin had no doubt the guy would’ve been one of those insufferable smart-asses on the debate team in high school.
The smile had completely gone from Ashryn’s face now and had been replaced with a dark scowl. The sight was so satisfying to Gavin that he couldn’t help a smile of his own from tugging at his lips. However, the joy was quickly shot through with a bolt of fear as the green-eyed giant’s gaze suddenly landed on him.
Gavin was quickly reminded of his situation. Ashryn was more than just some jerk, he was a giant jerk, and that giant jerk was currently giving Gavin the absolute dirtiest look of all time.
As though he had taken notice of the hateful glare too, at that moment Rael ever-so-slightly tightened his hold on Gavin’s body. There also came a bout of steady movement as Rael brought his hands closer to his body and farther away from Ashryn.
“I’m afraid I have no more time to waste on you and your pet,” the brown-haired giant spat, finally lifting his gaze from Gavin. “Enjoy your babysitting.” With that, Ashryn turned sharply on his heel and strode off down the cobble path that led back towards the palace.
“Stupid, pointy-eared, pretensious, oversized--” Gavin nearly drew blood with how hard he was biting on his tongue to prevent his thoughts from becoming verbal. Sure it would be satisfying in the moment, but it was obvious that Rael’s well crafted rebuttals were far more effective against Ashryn than Gavin’s disorganized assortment of crude insults.
Gavin was drawn out of his mental fuming when the hands holding him lurched into motion once again. Long fingers shifted around him until Rael’s thumb was pressed gently against his chest while the index finger did the same to his back. With an easy, fluid movement, Rael managed to twist Gavin’s body around so that he was now facing towards the giant rather than away.
Maybe if the circumstances were different Gavin would be irked by the gentle manhandling, but there was no way he could be annoyed with Rael after the way he’d just handled Ashryn.
“I’m sorry you had to see him again,” Rael said as he gazed down at the human in his hands. There was nothing but sincerity in his voice, and Gavin didn’t doubt for a second that the guy meant what he said.
“Don’t sweat it,” Gavin replied with a wave of his hand. “There was obviously nothing to worry about since I’ve got my knight in shining armor and all,” he added with a smirk.
Rael’s dark eyebrows furrowed in confusion. “My armor doesn’t shine,” he stated. “And I’d certainly not call myself a knight.”
Gavin gave a snort. The cultural divide between humans and alteons had once again made itself known. “It’s a figure of speech, dummy,” he told Rael as he flicked the giant’s hand.
“I don’t know how I’m meant to keep up with all your bizarre human sayings,” Rael grumbled as he moved Gavin back into position on his shoulder.
Gavin chuckled, and then there was a moment of silence as Rael set back off on his patrol. The quiet was comfortable. There was no air of awkwardness or a sense that one of them should be saying something. But then, after a few more moments, Rael suddenly broke the silence. “If you want to eat in the dining hall, we can,” he said simply.
Completely caught off guard, Gavin froze. He stared at the side of Rael’s face with wide eyes, but the alteon remained looking forward. “A-are you sure?” Gavin found himself stammering. He had no idea where Rael’s sudden change of heart had come from, and while Gavin was glad for it, he didn’t want to have guilted the man into the decision.
Smiling softly, Rael nodded. “Of course. I can handle any idiot foolish enough to think they can mess with you,” he responded smoothly.
Gavin broke into a grin. It seemed he would get his seat at the big kid table after all. All thanks to his trusty not-knight in not-shining armor.
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skelanonymous · 3 years
Text
Song Prompt 4 -  You Don’t Know Me
I’m trying my hand at some bad guy poly, and if I get to my Little Night AU, this may become a prequel of sorts.
Song: You Don’t Know Me by Elizabeth Gillies
Skeleton: Nightmare
Words: 3.2k
“Boss, you can’t be serious right now.” Killer’s mouth hung open. Dust sighed off to his left, rubbing his face hard enough to shake dust from his hood. Horror wouldn’t meet his eyes, Cross also nervously avoiding them, leaving Error the only one still looking, albeit with some exasperation.
“I’m very serious.” Night responded to Killer without bending. “This is not something I’d like to be a part of.”
“If that’s the reason, cuz you don’t wanna, then that’s fine. But that sounds like a crock and I ain’t one for bullshit.” Killer grabbed the end of the table with whitened knuckles. Nightmare could taste the frustration off all of them, but his icy resolution could outlast their mounting agitation. “So just be honest. We can handle whatever you got to say.”
Nightmare looked at his phalanges, faking disdain with ease, unaffected stone face a talent he’d picked up before leaving the tree’s shade.
“I have no reason to lie. I am not willing to join your polyamorous posse.” They’d all been having “sleepovers” for months now, and he’d caught on long before he walked into a dream he wished he could erase. It would’ve been fine had it been Horror or Killer, but Dust was always vigilant and had remembered Nightmare’s brief intrusion the next morning. “I admit, it’s impressive you’ve managed to keep this working between so many of you, and I don’t care what you spend your free time doing, but my time will be spent on other ventures.”
“But in the dream-”
“I’m not a nun, but walking into a dream orgy when you expect something a little more tame and having a reaction isn’t that ridiculous.” Dust’s gaze bore into his skull. He couldn’t crack, not if he was trying to pass off this lie. Keeping calm was critical.
“So that’s it then. No?” Killer just shook his head. Good, please, give up. Nightmare’s feigned nonchalance had held through much worse, but the backlash afterwards would be worse if he broke beneath it.
“It’s a no.” Night stood from the little table he’d been called to like an intervention. “Now I’m returning to my study. Come find me if anything happens to the castle.”
He did NOT run, but he portaled the instant he turned a corner. It dropped him into a forest patch on the edges of this world just before he lost his composure.
“Son of a fucking BITCH!” His tentacles lashed out, splitting apart all the trees in the area with a giant swing. The corruption roared out of his mouth, furious and wild, screaming his voice hoarse. He didn’t give a damn about any of it, just seeing red from the blackened aura that got denser and denser around his body as he raged in nature, a force all on his own.
Of course he wanted to say yes! Envy scorched through his hands, clawing ahead for what it could not reach. Rage he reserved for himself, though saved some for his damned fate, at being too fucked to just be with a person. Even now, not within their embrace, the greed seduced his pitch black soul to have so many loves with which to indulge, having them all pay attention to him, their king, their saviour, they OWED this to him!
“God damn it, NO! Fuck you!” He continued ruining the countryside, rampant as the growth surrounding him.
He couldn’t love them. Not like they wanted, not the way they did each other, forever an outsider to the perfect temptation. He’d tip the balance and break the scales. He would destroy this for them. Slowly, he felt the brain fog raise, the tinges of red outlining everything finally fading away with his energy.
When the colors of the ruined forest fully returned, he directly portaled to his study. Dust was waiting patiently on the desk’s edge.
“The castle couldn’t have had a disaster that quickly.” Nightmare sat at his desk without acknowledging he’d been caught moping outside. Damn his perceptiveness when not distracted.
“I mean, it did.” Dust stated in a matter of fact tone. “They’re unhappy with the answer.”
“And what? You’re here to force me to change it?” Lashing out was what he excelled at. He wasn’t meant for soft cuddle puddles and doting, his body literal poison to those around him, his aura a drain. Dust didn’t bite.
“No. It wouldn’t be honest if it was forced.” He spoke airily, as if admitting the blatant truth could be anything but bitter disaster.
“Then why have you come to my study?” Nightmare hoped he’d rise to the bait that time, more direct in his aggression, and Dust would meet and rise to it most days, but besides twitching a few times, he holds his sanity at the low blow.
“To remind you. I know what I saw, and you know what I saw.” Dust didn’t leave room for argument and Nightmare didn’t lie about it out of respect. “Just know that the door is open should you change your mind.”
“Thank you, but my answer remains the same.” Damn him. Each denial took away more of his resistance. Perhaps he knew that, persistence hunting him with a strong will borne of the endless loops that forged most of his loyal following, waiting until one day he asked over something inconsequential like breakfast for the yes to slip out without Nightmare even on guard enough to catch it.
“Whatever you say Boss.” Dust nodded, but those eyes haunted him. He hadn’t heard the last of this, but the tide would ebb for now.
Nightmare fell back into the plush chair tiredly, already awaiting the next wave.
He knew what he wanted, but he could not obtain it. If he acted on his wishes, he’d destroy what he sought. And if he denied it, he’d be acting against his natural state while forcing himself to be miserable. There wasn’t a way to win that he could conceive of so he settled with ignoring the feeling entirely.
Despite his refusal, they didn’t change their interactions with him in the slightest after that first day.
Meal times remained largely unchanged except for the stolen glances at him if he betrayed any affection or laughed (which wasn’t often, but they were his crew and knew his weaknesses). Missions and responses to commands had also remained the same, though that was expected. They still offered him the opportunity to join in on movie nights. He had refused all of those since the rejection.
Maybe it was the way Horror had frowned when he’d said no for the fifth time in a row that changed his mind. Ignoring feelings didn’t make them disappear and he’d always been a little softer for Horror’s requests. He only asked for what he considered essential.
“Let me finish this. I’ll be down in five minutes.” Tidying up his papers took seconds, but he needed the minutes for composure.
When he made it down, Horror had curled up into Error’s lap with a gigantic grin, Error softly praising him with small head pets. The others waved at him.
“Hey Boss! Sorry, we let Cross pick this time.” The ‘we didn’t think you’d say yes’ was implied. Nightmare nodded at Killer while moving to sit on the couch against the wall.
“I can live with choosing next time.” The little bursts of joy hit him like a face full of air freshener, his sludge rippling but otherwise unaffected. They’d popped in the DVD and set up before flicking off the lights.
Nightmare watched intently for the first fifteen minutes, he’d never seen it before, then looked around.
The group had paired off into cuddly duos, Killer and Cross, Horror and Error, leaving a lonely Dust seated by Nightmare. From here, he could feel Dust’s cold longing, wanting to join in like the others but knowing his only possible partner would refuse him. The movie was loud, the others absorbed in it or each other and not even able to see them from where they sat. Nightmare laid a tentative tentacle over Dust’s shoulder. He refused to speak a word, merely moving his arm for Dust to accept or not.
His dual colored eyes dilated before quietly shuffling over. Leaning in, he pressed himself along Night’s side with a little wiggle to get cozy.
From this angle, Dust’s ears within an inch of his mouth, he spoke softly.
“Is this okay?” He didn’t know what he felt like to others. Dust hummed so low that Night could only feel it.
“Yeah.” His right eye twitched, Papyrus must’ve said something. “What are those weird swords called?” Night’s eyes flicked up to the screen.
“A flamberge sword. It’s mostly used to counter others by-” Nightmare went into its varied history, a few famous wielders, its construction. They kept their eyes on the film, and Nightmare whispered it to Dust, like a secret history lesson while some cheesy dramatic scene full of loud music drowned out the rest. By the time he’d stopped, Dust comfortably leaned fully against him. His head had come into contact with the corner of Night’s mouth without ceremony, suddenly making Night aware of his proximity.
“You’ve read a lot.” Dust turned his head, now his teeth only a breath away. Nightmare couldn’t take his eyes off of them.
“Books were all I possessed before…” His eye roamed over the group before returning to the gentle intensity building in the centimeter between their teeth. “Dust…”
“You can have this Boss.” Dust’s soul pulsed with determination, Night washed over in its warm waters. “I know how much you wanted it.” His red and blue eyes dropped to Night’s teeth, hovering with hot breath, half-lidded in need. “Just take it Nightmare.”
The touch of their mouths made Night’s own soul explode in the rush of desire that blazed into an inferno at the smallest sprig of kindling.  His tongue begged for entrance before he could think the action through, Dust letting it in without hesitation, shaky hands dug into Night’s sweater. The loud movie covered the quiet wet sounds, Night’s tentacles shifting silently to cradle Dust as he devoured all he was offered.
His soul lurched when he pulled back; he wanted to consume Dust but the rational part of his brain managed to catch him before he dove back.
“Hah. Nightmare, come back.” Dust’s hands had fisted in Night’s sweater tight enough to tear. Nightmare ignored it to squeeze his eye shut, trying to breathe through the mounting urge to take Dust apart, piece by piece, in view of the others, damn their relationship, he’d take ANY of them whenever HE wanted.
“Stop.” He said it at normal volume, shouting compared to the hushed exchange before. It drew the attention of the others. “I can’t.”
“Why?” Nightmare hadn’t opened his eye to see, but he could hear how hurt Dust sounded, hands trembling where they still balled in each other’s clothes. His normally distracted voice spoke firmly. “Tell me why.”
“I can’t.”
“You can. You just won’t. Tell me why.” Dust shook his head to dislodge Papyrus, ringing in crystal clear. It struck his soul, shattering the thin barrier holding back his honesty, unable to hold onto thoughts while containing the rot of his corruption from spilling over and swallowing them whole.
“I will devour you. All of you.” His tentacles sought them out, tentative. His vocal cords ached with an involuntary voice drop. “I will fucking ruin this. Your love cannot overcome my nature.” Each appendage curled around their throats, besides Dust, laying in his arms. The eye of the storm, Dust laid there calmly, like Nightmare’s tentacles weren’t threatening to strangle all of his loves in one fell swoop. Nightmare’s sludge dripped off of him, onto the couch, sizzling where it’d dropped onto Dust’s shins. He didn’t flinch.
“You wouldn’t know, you won’t let us try.”
He could feel the others struggling against him, hands sliding on the slick material while his tentacles grew tighter.
“I’LL KILL YOU!” Night growled, his own fingers clamping down on Dust’s neck, pressing down on the bone hard enough to creak underneath them. “I’ll take what I want and dust the rest!”
“Then do it.” Dust met his eyes unafraid. He relaxed into the hold, even as Night’s hands got ever tighter.
The corruption buffeted the inside of his skull, whirlwind of thoughts and crazed emotion, fed by the slow building terror of the others, their struggles more and more frantic the longer his tentacles gripped them. The only exception was Dust. His eyes had slid shut, limp and relaxed in his hands. Nightmare didn’t realize how out of control it’d gotten until he heard the crack.
Nightmare released Dust instantly, hands struggling with the healing magic Nightmare was trying to force through the agitated sludge.
“Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck!” Night didn’t stop trembling until he felt Dust touch his wrists. The splashes of cyan across Dust’s calm smile startled him out of everything, tentacles dropping the others to curl in on himself. With a deep breath, the magic flowed more evenly, in control of this at the very least. The crack slowly wove together until only a scar remained. Nightmare avoided the gazes of the others he could feel staring him down, caught unaware by Dust pulling on his wrists, falling directly onto Dust’s chest, face onto his shoulder, forced to stare at his own mistake.
“Just relax…” Dust’s head rested atop his own. He felt the skilled hands slide into the crevices between his tentacles, pressing and rubbing away the tight balls of tension until he finally let them all go.
“How did he do that?” Cross whispered from the side.
“Hell if I know.” Killer sounded close as well, shuffling from just beyond his vision.
“Patience.” Dust’s fingers pressed down to unwind the stress of his back, though not the sins crawling there. Nightmare shifted to lay in a way that he could see off the couch. The others watched them from the floor with wide eyes. He sighed, tracing Dust’s sternum during inhales.
“I could have killed you.”
“You wouldn’t have.” Dust’s faith never wavered, the others radiated guilt. Nightmare averted his gaze.
“I’m still sorry.”
“Then make it up to me.” Nightmare sat up, resting his hands on Dust’s chest for leverage, ending up sitting on his lap before taking the hands that had fallen off his back. He pulled Dust up to match him.
“How?” Night blushed under Dust’s intense observing, relaxing at the gentle clank he got in exchange. It sent a tremor through his spine.
“Answer us honestly.” Dust’s skull twitched against him, tranquil determination a temporary state at best. He kissed Night softly over and over again, plying at his defenses with the promise of what this could be, curiosity over how they worked together. Dust wasn’t alone in this after all. “Do you want us?” The shuffling of knees hit his ears; the others had moved closer to hear him, their hearts glowing with so much hope and positivity it almost hurt to bear. Night’s voice broke under its weight.
“...yes…” The next kiss was triumphant, his face cradled close while he submitted to Dust’s tongue. Dust broke them apart, Night too dazed to see, his hands reaching out to pull his partner back.
The taste changed, the tonguework different, enthusiastic all the same. The hand on his cheek this time larger, he felt a thumb stroke across the line beneath his ruined eye. The name was out before he saw them.
“Cross.” Behind, someone had made a home amongst his tentacles, a back against his. “That’s unusually bold of you.” His eye trailed over the purple flush with an amused grin. He didn’t let the building anxiety pool in the poor guardsman, grabbing the collar of his jacket to kiss him again while his tentacles wound around his other ‘attacker.’ Killer’s groans drifted to his ears.
“Fuck Nightmare, didn’t think you’d get so handsy so fast.” The back of his skull tapped Night’s. Tentacles had wound up Killer’s legs to hold them still, a third binding around his chest to keep him pinned. The fourth explored his upper femurs, pressing over his shorts to his pelvis, Killer’s gasps music to his ears. He pulled back from Cross with a smirk.
“You seemed like you’d be into it.” Killer nodded against his back, but Cross also nodded in front of him, eyelights blown wide with Night’s taste in his mouth and his hands on his chin, wiping away the line of purple saliva from that last messy kiss.
Horror leaned against his leg from the floor. Night dropped a hand to rub against his skull, avoiding the large crack without seeing, knowing the location by memory alone.
“Thanks.” Horror purred from the ground, head falling more heavily in his lap.
Sitting on Dust, Killer against his back, Horror in his lap, and Cross leaning over to kiss him and Dust equally brought his soul peace. Error hadn’t joined, but Nightmare would’ve been more surprised if he had.
“I-I’m sure y-you know my stance on t-t-touching by now.” Error had his arms crossed, body still pixelated near his neck from the impromptu strangling earlier.
“Except Horror. He deals with Horror’s touches the best out of all of us.” Cross removed himself from the pile to offer his hand. Error glared at the TV, but took it anyway. “Most of us have gotten to hand holding though!” Cross’s enthusiasm turned Error blue.
“S-shut up…” He offered his other hand for Cross to take as well, even Error unable to contain his smile at Cross’s joy and attention.
It was laughably easy, Nightmare slotted into the dynamic with ease, an extension of their regular back and forths but sweeter, tinged with something warm. The loud voice in his mind still craved more but he could fight it off for now. Nightmare took a deep breath.
“I’m...still concerned, about everything, but I…” They waited for him to collect his thoughts. “If you’ll have me anyway, then I’ll give it all I have.”
“That’s all we can ask.” Dust smiled while Horror hummed his agreement.
“Hell, that’s what we’re doing too. You, aaaah, ain’t special.” Killer’s body writhed against him. His tentacles hadn’t been distracted by the moment, steadily edging Killer into whining pants, shorts wet against his appendage and thrusting back against it. Night raised him up to hold him solidly between himself and Dust.
“You know, this does offer many new opportunities to shut you up.” His black bones traced the rim of Killer’s pelvis peeking out over the waistband. Killer cursed when Dust leaned forward against Killer’s back, circling to the front to tease his lower sternum, finger peeking inside of his rib cage.
“None of them work. Trust me, we’ve tried.” Dust hid his smirk against Killer’s back, playfully nipping through the hoodie, shaking against the charged bones.
“Fuck you guys.” Night met Dust’s dual-tone gaze one more time. Hesitant to accept and run forward with them still. But Dust took his hand to bring it with him into Killer’s body, wrapping them both around his spine to a moan. They’d help and guide him, he need only ask for it, and with that, he laughed.
“Maybe we will.”
-
I’m very happy to have this out of my WIP folder.
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tickles-tea · 3 years
Text
The Cycle of Temptation
If me busting out a fic in time for Izaya’s birthday doesn’t show how much I love him, nothing else will.
Izaya’s impeccable aim was not limited to knives, it seemed, as the ball of fabric hit its target straight on. The target being Shizuo Heiwajima’s face, of course.
Izaya cackled at the dull smack his coat made. “Hahaha! Where are those monster instincts of yours, Shizu-chan?” He taunted with a grin from where he was perched on the roof of a small bakery. Standing above the crowd and backlit by the sun, he almost appeared like an angel descending from the heavens. A kind hand granting humans salvation from their sins as if he hadn’t been the snake tempting them into depravity in the first place.
And poor Shizuo couldn’t help but chase the forbidden fruit.
From below, he skidded to a stop and ripped the jacket away with a snarl. His cheeks were tinged red with rage and what Izaya could bet was embarrassment. “Izaya, you bastard!” His gripped the jacket in a trembling fist before his face lit up with inspiration. What kind of thing the protozoan thought up, Izaya couldn’t say, but it was sure to be undoubtedly stupid. “Get down here so I can strangle you with this shitty coat!”
There was a beat of silence.
Ah, I was right, Izaya thought to himself. That is stupid.
“Eh? Are you five?” He drawled patronisingly, lips quirked on a pitying smile. “You have to work hard for what you want~” And with that, he was off again, running and jumping around like the flea Shizuo claimed he was.
The chase went on for another few minutes-leaving an impressive level of property damage in its wake-before it came to a standstill once again. At Izaya’s unspoken command, of course. They were in an alley now, shadowed from the sun and out of the way of any one who might intervene. Not that anyone was stupid enough to try. Their squabbles were frequent enough for most people to continue on their way without a second glance. They’d catch their trains and go to work and return to their everyday lives.
Just as Izaya was living his.
“It seems you’ve caught me, Shizu-chan! Whatever shall I do~” Izaya purred, turning around to face his pursuer with open arms. Shizuo was just as-if not more-pissed off as he’d been a few minutes prior, and surprisingly, still had Izaya’s jacket clutched in his left hand.
Izaya blinked. He hadn’t expected Shizuo to actually hang onto it.
“Oh? You still have that? Don’t tell me Shizu-chan is one of those people who gets off on sniffing clothes,” Izaya laughed, crossing his arms over his chest and leaning back on his heels.
“Shut up! I’ll kill you!” Shizuo shot back, but there was no denying the blush coloring the tips of his ears. He stomped forward, fists clenched at his sides, until he came face to face with the most infuriating man on the planet. “I’ll kill you,” he repeated, voice softer. Perhaps now that he was actually faced with the decision, his brain took a turn, because instead of wrapping the coat around Izaya’s neck as a makeshift noose and killing him once and for all, he turned Izaya around and pushed him up against the wall.
He breathed harshly against the back of Izaya’s neck, all the while Izaya grinned like the cat who got the cream. “Oh? Like this, it almost seems like you’re more interested in a little death than a murder,” Izaya purred, voice as smooth and silky as the prize. His palms pressed against the rough surface of the wall, bracing himself for what was to come. Teeth digging into flesh, strong hands pressing bruises into his hips. The thought had his lashes dipping with want.
Shizuo grunted behind him, still for a moment. Izaya could feel his warm breath fanning across his nape, and his skin prickled in anticipation. It was strange for Shizuo to hesitate like this. He was a man who ran purely on instinct-acting first and facing the repercussions later. And they were far past the point of caring about repercussions.
He grabbed Izaya’s wrists suddenly, pulling them together behind Izaya’s back and tying the sleeve of the jacket around them. Izaya blinked, obviously surprised, but he hardly seemed to mind even as his cheek pressed into the wall. “Ha, who knew Shizu-chan was into this kind of thing?” He purred with a snicker. It was a tight bind, but he knew by now that if Shizuo really wanted to hurt him, he’d be dead.
“You’re a piece of shit, you know that?” Shizuo grumbled into his ear, leaning in oh so close. His voice was impossibly deep, more of a growl than anything, and it shook Izaya to the core.
Izaya smirked. Even as vulnerable as he was, he still teased and taunted, hoping to push Shizuo into action. To make him bite the apple. “What are you gonna do about it?”
This time, it was Shizuo’s turn to grin. Animalistic and wild in the way Izaya loved. “This.” Strong hands latched onto Izaya’s sides and squeezed with just enough pressure to make him want to crawl out of his skin. Izaya’s eyes widened in realization, and he started struggling to get away. However, he was literally caught between a rock and a hard place. There was no way to squirm free, pressed against the wall as he was.
“Uwahaha! Y-you monster! Nahahahaha!” Giggles burst past his lips as Shizuo pinched up and down his sides, tweaking at his ribs every so often to make him jump. His hands flexed uselessly behind his back as he tried to stop the attack, but every time he twisted to one side, the other would be targeted. “No! This isn’t what I wahahanted, you protozoan!”
In all honesty, Izaya had expected less humiliation and more making out. And Shizuo, the bastard, probably knew it too.
“Yeah? Well, I didn’t want to have to chase you out of my city today, so I guess we’re both out of luck,” he countered with a cruel grin, hooking his chin over Izaya’s shoulder and pulling him close against his chest.
Venturing fingers explored further and found their way under the hem of Izaya’s shirt, teasing and tickling the soft skin of his belly. “Ah! No, no, nahahaha!” Izaya squirmed frantically, throwing his head back with the force of his laughter. His muscles jumped with each brush of calloused fingers, but with his arms bound and his body held steady in the grip of the beast, there was no reprieve.
Shizuo chuckled at the way Izaya bounced and jerked and danced around, jumping from one foot to the other in his futile attempts to wiggle free. He seemed to take particular joy in the squeal Izaya let out when he scritched at his belly button; it was loud and embarrassing and promptly followed up by a stream of high pitched giggles that were far too innocent to be coming from a man like Izaya.
“Fahahaha! I’ll-! I’ll kihihihill you! Stahahahap!” Izaya gasped out a curse when Shizuo pressed into an especially sensitive patch of nerves on the side of his stomach. He was practically folding in on himself, knees jerking up to protect his midsection before he lost his balance and had to steady himself again.
His legs were growing weak-from the struggling or from the tickling itself, Izaya didn’t know. Nor did he want to. It was mortifying enough that he had let himself be caught  in this situation in the first place. Being tickled like this in public, by Shizuo no less… it would take awhile for his pride to recover.
For how often Izaya was seen as the sadist, Shizuo showed little mercy as he skillfully honed in on the spots that prompted the strongest reactions. He massaged his fingers into the soft give of Izaya’s lower belly and was rewarded with loud frantic laughter and desperate squirming. Tracing along the sensitive rim of his navel earned him squeaks and giggles and lips stretched in a helpless grin.
It was only when Izaya’s laughter became wheezy and his lashes wet with tears that Shizuo finally relented.
Izaya sagged in his arms, residual giggles falling from his lips and shaking his sore shoulders as he tried to catch his breath. His legs felt like jelly, and he was sure he’d crumble to the ground if not for Shizuo’s steady hands holding him up. Those deceptively brutish hands...
Shizuo could be surprisingly gentle at times despite his inhuman strength. While Izaya loved the way Shizuo could lift him and hold him up against a wall for hours on end during their late night trysts, there were times when his touch was so light Izaya could barely feel it at all. A comforting brush up his thigh, a careful touch on his cheek. Nothing like the violence and destruction that came from his clenched fists.
Shizuo could be gentle.
But Izaya would prefer broken bones over this torture any day.
With his breathing now somewhat even, Izaya looked over his shoulder to level Shizuo with the most aggrieved glare he could muster. “Shizu-chan…,” He murmured, voice low on irritation as he tugged on his still bound arms.
Shizuo-who had been sporting an oddly soft smile-chuckled and set about untying the knot he’d created with the coat’s sleeve. “I take it we’re not heading back to my place this time?”
Incredulous and more than a little outraged, Izaya reeled back, mouth already forming around a barrage of insults before he paused. His expression evened out then, any trace of annoyance leaving his face in an instant. But what replaced it was not kind or understanding. It was wicked, mischievous, a red light flashing danger. And the words that he spoke as he rolled his shoulders and held up the wrinkled coat sent an uneasiness down Shizuo’s spine that almost seemed to seep into his bones.
However, with the uneasiness came a certain excitement, a thrill.
“We should go. Since Shizu-chan seems to like this so much, it’s only fair he gets to experience it as well, right~?”
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melanated-maddy · 3 years
Text
TYTON
Hey welcome to this fan fiction. I recently finished war storm and I’m in love with Tyton. Couldn’t help but want to right a fic after seeing so little on this guy on tumblr. Don’t know if I’ll write more as got exams but if you like let me know! All characters and world and everything belongs to the queen herself Victoria Aveyard
Chapter 1
“Debark, debark, debark.”
Tyton was snapped out of his musings pale fingers still gripped against the fading cover of his book. They’d finally arrived back in Ascendant after another long plane journey. A year after the kingdom of Norta was officially dissolved with Cal’s abdication there was still unrest with the Silvers. Too many houses had attempted to feel comfortable on the sparkling throne. ‘Osanos says water comes after fire, Rhambos is taking strength and power a little too literally and Merandus is trying hard to distance themselves from the insanity their own brought forth in Maven and actually claim the throne. At least there’s no more Samos worries. That ship sailed or should I say smashed along with Volo’s head with his offspring are safely tucked away in the capital.’ The soldiers on the plane had started their move off some in a rush to get home to worried families and others ready to have a drink. Davidson was the closet family Tyton had after his own lost their lives to a raid. His mother, father and two younger brothers all gone in an instant. That instance was the first time Tyton’s ability was able to properly manifest. Properly surge. Properly show how dangerous he was. It was Davidson who found him when searching the wrecks of homes and families. Still holding his brother’s Aeon’s hand tears in his eyes. Davidson was always quiet even back in those days and knelt to Tyton’s small height hugging him close. After that day Davidson properly set about burying the family well allowing Tyton to grieve and giving him another place to call home. He’d never admit it, but Tyton was lucky...relieved that Davidson and Carmadon took him in. Even if those raiders who had taken his family from him deserved his rage, he was terrified of the lightning under his skin. With a huff, Tyton uncoiled his long body from his seat standing and stretching up to remind his muscles of their function. The suit he wore was dark not one of the traditional Montfort green it just would not do for some missions. Under his seat he pulled free the small bag carrying a bottle of water, bag of nuts and stored the book into it securely. It was the last thing he’d received from his parents and even so he still struggled to get through it properly. As Tyton turned to move out the aircraft door onto the tarmac he spotted Mare struggling to reach an overhead compartment to grab something. He quickly moved forward and grabbed hold of two items: a maroon scarf and backpack.
“Thanks.”
“No worries I’m always available to help the vertically challenged.”
Mare’s face turned into a vivid shade of crimson and she moved as if ready to punch his arm when Cal swung his head back into the cabin. He seemed exasperated which quickly shifted to a swift glare as his eyes settled on how close the two were.
“Tyton.”
“Cal.”
“Mare what's taking so long?”
“Difficulties getting the scarf and backpack you decided to thrust into the overhead bin. As well as being ready to obliterate string bean here.”
Tyton gave a chuckle, although he was slightly leaner than Cal a string bean he was not.
“Don’t worry just helping her out she’s still yours, your highness.”
Cal bristled with the label, but Tyton was already strolling out onto the blinding tarmac doused in bright light.
As he got his bearings about himself, Tyton could not help feeling the pulses of electricity going off in every person around hims body. Just as you could imagine different emotions and thoughts had different electric compositions. As people moved around he recognised stress signals, pulses of joy and shifts of concentration. The signals never went away but with time he’d found away to keep them working in tandem with him so he didn’t get overwhelmed.
“Tyton come on rides here.” Rafe called his hair in the sun giving the appearance of green flames.
Tyton walked to the transport, long legs eating up the distance in a few moments to be face to face with Rafe. Ella must’ve caught a different one as the storm addict’s blue hair was no where to be seen. Together the two walked towards Davidson who was speaking to Arezzo in hushed tones. With a nod she was dismissed walking instead of jumping to wherever she needed to go. Davidson turned to the two a smooth smile on his face and opened his mouth, but was interrupted by a quick trill.
“Rafe!”
A blur of orange smashed into Rafe’s chest holding him tightly as he clutched her back.
Laughing Rafe greeted her, “Iz, nice to see you too, but you’re crushing me.”
With one last tug, Izelle released her older brother a wide grin tugging on her lips as she looked up at him. Izelle, was Rafe’s little sister by a year who shared his dark brown skin smooth and even and bright smile. In her orange dress that spun around her knees and black combat boots, she giggled letting her hair of tight curls circling her head move slightly held back with an orange band.
“Is it wrong for me to have missed my dumb big brother? Am I wrong Tyton?”
Tyton smiled and shook his head as Rafe glared at him.
“So nice to know that it won’t be a strongarm that gets me but my sister’s choke hold.”
Iz shoved Rafe as he rolled his eyes and moved to put his bags in the transport while Iz turned to greet Tyton.
“Hey.”
“Hi.”
And with that Tyton opened his arms and Izelle moved into them giving him a tight hug.
‘Her hugs are always great.’
“Thanks for looking out for Rafe. I’m one hundred percent sure he’s not dead somewhere because of you.”
A deep rumble erupted from Tyton as he shook his head. They walked to the transport as Tyton asked how she’d been.
“All good here finally ready to move onto the fourth arc only two more to go before I’m a qualified teacher of education.”
“That’s excellent. You’ve worked hard for it.”
“Yeah it’s been so long definitely the hardest thing I’ve faced, but it’ll be so worth it once I’m in a class with little guys.”
“Do you know what specialism you’ll take yet Izzy?”
In Montfort, classes were not segregated at all with children of all blood types getting the same education to the best standard they could. Those who were Ardent or Silver has supplementary classes to help in coming into their abilities. However, it was courtesy for teachers at normal school to specialise in understanding one blood type well so that support chains could be used in school for any student struggling.
“I’m not sure yet to be honest. I’ve still got to think, might swing for Ardent or Red they’ve already got lots of silver specialists.”
Tyton liked listening to Izzy speak. Her mind although more hyperactive than most was one he enjoyed feeling the thrum of. She would be an excellent teacher one who was fun and silly, but able to understand and be serious when needed. For all her loudness Rafe often called her the thunder to his lightning. As Izzy spoke she tended to often get enthralled by her words and lost her bearings of where she was. So much so she didn’t see a smaller transport squealing into her path. In seconds Tyron had pulled her back allowing the small buggy to rush past on its was.
“Izzy.”
“Ha sorry about that. Forgive me.”
And with a smile, all was forgiven.
“Come on Rafe is definitely going to start a mood if we don’t hurry up,” and with that she pulled his arm to the transport releasing him to clamber up and take a seat next to Rafe. For all the bickering and teasing they did the two siblings loved each other dearly. They had sought refuge in Montfort from the Piedmont principalities with their mother. The two remembered little about their original home as they had left so young, but the happiness Montfort gave them was all they needed. Forgetting all about her conversation with Tyton, Izzy poked Rafe to tell her all about Norta and what things they’d encountered. Izzy had never left Montfort. She was definitely not a soldier, barely remembering to tuck in her thumbs properly when punching Rafe and the Ardent abilities had only passed to him so a useful electricon on the battlefield she was not. The ride to Ascendant was bumpy, Davidson muttering about looking into the concrete and upkeep of the infrastructure when back home. The air rushed in as they sped across the landscapes moving closer to the capital with every second until the transport stopped in a quick halt. The stop was so fast Izzy almost span out of her seat if not for Rafe and Tyton’s arms coming to forth to stop her fall.
“What’s going-“
Davidson was cut off when a terrible crunch sounded off. Leaning forward, he could see one of the transports being crushed the metal casings crumbling against each other. Without a thought Davidson threw out a shield glowing blue in the setting sun surrounding the two vehicles.
“Raiders already?” Rafe hit his head against the seat in frustration before moving out of the car to help passengers in the afflicted vehicle. Tyton quickly went about feeling how many Raiders were out there without being told.
“10, all seems to be magnetron. 3 females, 7 males. Wait they’re leaving?”
“Leaving?”
“Yeah moving away.”
Davidson heaved a sigh, “Radio in for some teleporters for the wounded.”
“They’re already here.” Tyton looked out seeing that those badly injured were being jumped back. Being so close to Ascendant meant the teleporters could make the jump.
“Alright then, destroy that transport don’t leave anything of use behind for them.”
With that, Tyton moved to the transport now empty and absentmindedly called forth a storm preparing for a powerful bolt. The skies darkened as his storm came into existence. Davidson let the shield down for a moment to let the bolt come through. In a fraction of a second, a burning bolt of lighting came down from the sky smashing against the transport reducing it to dust and scorched earth. The air singed with crackle as the fire wreck obliterated. Tyton surveyed the scene inspecting the damage to see if it was at a high enough level to not be useful to a magnetron. Being happy with it he turned and started to walk back to Davidson and Izzy, Rafe already sitting in his seat. He was laughing at Izzy as she covered her ears wincing at the terrible sound of the lightning on metal. It was a sound not comfortable for most ears, but Tyton’s power was unheard of in an Ardent. He was different to the other electricons being able to handle electricity more naturally than even them. It didn’t take much for him to call a storm bolt of that magnitude. As he was within a few metres of the transport he suddenly felt a barrage of electrical energy moving towards them. Recognising it as the previous magnetrons he turned to quickly release brain lightning on them being able to drop 4 of them before one let off a spike. Moving out of the way he could do, but the spike still got him in the side forcing him to the ground. Davidson’s shields again went up and Tyton was pulled into the transport as it began to drive away with Davidson’s shields still up. Izzy clambered towards him pulling apart his suit to get a better look at the cut. Her hand pressed down hard as she told Rafe to get the medical kit under the seat. Tyton grasped onto her had holding it down as he grimaced from the pain. “You’re fine it’s only a scratch.” Izzy nervously laughed.
“Of course because scratches produce this much blood.”
“Shut up big baby. I’ve met toddlers tougher than you,” she grinned and Tyton smiled back focusing on her electricity and letting it calm him down in the transport racing back to Ascendant.
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salt-warrior · 3 years
Text
Alright folks... it’s time for me to forever shame myself, because I’m publishing a crack fic. I’ve NEVER done that before because I usually just write crack fics for my own enjoyment, but this crack fic was inspired by a post that @impossiblesuitcase wrote. So thank you for that, lovely. Also thank you @cosmicnovaflare for pushing me to write this, I love you always. 
This crack fic is a crossover of three of my own fanfictions. So if you have not red Unsinkable, The Echo of Silence, and The Time it Takes to Fall, then literally none of this will make any sense. All three play vital roles in this story. Seriously, you’ll be in the dark so don’t read it unless you’ve read all of them.
Again, this is a crack fic so it’s even more wildly unrealistic than my other writing. And I am also going to pretend I never wrote it because I am ashamed. The original endings are the real endings in my mind. You have been warned. 
So without further ado, I present you with 6,249 words of crack fic that I wrote in one sitting yesterday instead of doing my homework. Enjoy.
Tags: @shellyseashell @cindersassasin @gingerale2017  @healing-winston-pratt @winterrhayle @just2bubbly @f-r-o-p @idkchatie (I’m only tagging the people who were really angry with Unsinkable because I think a lot of you have read all three of those stories? If not, then sorry for the tag, I love you guys<333)
Until Forever Ends
Before Kai’s father had passed away, he’d told Kai to pursue what he needed to find peace. He’d probably meant something along the lines of falling in love with another girl or switching up his career. Surely he hadn’t intended for his son to look into the mythical sisters of life and death.
It had been a long day, with him first going to his father's funeral, then to see Cinder's gravesite one last time. He hated leaving her there, but he had hope that when they would meet again, he would speak to her and not a marble headstone.
He'd mailed notes to all his friends that morning. To Scarlet and Wolf, Jacin and Winter, and Cress. He'd detailed an adventure across the world that he would be having. After all, his father had left everything he owned to Kai, and he wanted to make the most of living. Of course it was all a fantastic lie; he was traveling the world, and perhaps it would be an adventure, but it was more of a journey than anything else. And he didn't plan on ever coming home.
Because even if he found what he was looking for, he couldn't return to his friends. They wouldn't understand—they couldn't understand.
So he would travel to the ends of the Earth, and he would find her.
***
Kai sat on a sandy beach, the waves lapping up over his legs, his nostrils filling with the scent of salt. The sky was gray and the air cold, but he could not feel its bitter sting. His clothes were torn ragged and his hair grown long and shaggy. If one were to gaze upon him, they would believe him to be insane. But he did not care. He was on the hunt for the sisters of life and death— and he was close.
It had been months since his father’s funeral; months since he’d left Cinder’s grave back in Arizona. He’d flown across the sea and traveled to lands he hadn’t even known existed. He’d slept under the stars and beneath the blanket of darkness. He’d listened to stories of people who lived their lives over and over in search of love and those who had been played for fools. He’d seen much and learned even more.
He’d heard tales of the two sisters: one life and the other death. They began as whispered fairy tales, told to him by drunkards and fools. But as he investigated further, he discovered that the sisters were real.
They existed throughout all the lands of the world, always under different names. In some lands they were simply Life and Death, while in others they were Angel and Demon or creatures of the Earth. He simply knew them as Light and Darkness. He only hoped to call out to the sister of light and life, not the one of darkness and death.
Throughout all his travels, no one had ever been able to tell him how to call each sister, only that they came to the cries of the brokenhearted who claimed, and fervently meant, that they would do anything to bring their love back to them. It had to be a plea for love that consumed one’s entire soul— but his soul was filled with Cinder, and Cinder alone.
He watched the black sea as it foamed about him. There had been conflicting views as to where one had to be when summoning either of the sisters. Some claimed that the person had to be in the place of their lover’s birth, while others explained that you had to be in the exact place of their final breath. One woman had even claimed that without the body of his dead lover still warm in his arms, he could not bring her back. Kai had shivered at that proclamation, with Cinder dead and in the ground for well over a year.
But there had been one account that had remained etched in his mind. A scholar somewhere in Europe, who had quoted the lines of Edgar Allen Poe’s last poem to Kai.
“And neither the angels of Heaven above
Nor the demons down under the sea
Can ever dissever my soul from the soul
Of the beautiful Annabel Lee.”
“The sea would be the best place to call one of the sisters to you,” the scholar had said. “For that is their home. With the Angel above and the Demon below, they will hear your cries.”
So Kai went to the sea.
Slowly the gray sky melded into black, allowing for the stars to dot the emptiness and the moon to shine across the waves with hints of white light. He knew he should have been cold, and perhaps he was, but there was nothing left in him but the aching wish to be with Cinder once more.
“Cinder,” he whispered her name through chapped lips. “My love. I would do anything–” his voice broke off with a sob, tears falling like the spray of the ocean. “Anything,” he reiterated. “To be with you again.”
The waves of the sea began to swirl about him, pulling him off the beach and out into the waves. He screamed as his head dipped below the water, but a bubble of air had formed around him, preventing any wetness from glancing across his skin.
Everything seemed to grow lighter, despite the darkness he had remembered seeing. The waves danced about him in hues of deep purple and foam green. Fish swam around him in a flurry, and even the stars in the sky appeared to stand in closer proximity to himself.
Then everything slowed, and Kai found himself thrown back upon the sandy beach shore. He laid upon the ground, staring at the moon in the sky, which seemed within arms reach. He lifted a hand as if to touch it.
A hand reached out to brush against his fingers, and Kai pulled back. Silhouetted against the moon was the most glorious woman that Kai had ever beheld. There was no beauty comparable to her own. Her skin was dark and lined with gold tracings that resembled the very waves of the sea. She wore a dress of crimson that covered her figure elegantly, and jewelry of gold lined her ears and neck.
“Oh my stars,” she gasped, jumping back from him as she gazed upon his face. “It’s you.”
Kai was too shocked to speak. He dropped his hand back upon his chest as he looked up at her. His eyes mapped the kindness in her face and the confusion in her eyes as she gawked at him. All that he could register was that he was in the presence of an otherworldly being.
At long last her words caught up to his thoughts and puzzlement of his own registered in his mind. “Do we know one another?”
The woman’s face softened, and she shook her head slowly. “No, I suppose we do not. Or at the very least, not in this lifetime; not in this world. I am Light, the sister of life and all things which make life beautiful. For what reason do you weep so?”
Kai’s heart skipped a beat at her words. He pushed himself up so he rested upon his knees before her, looking up at her glorious face. She glowed, as if she were the moon itself, rather than just having it shine behind her.
“My wife,” Kai explained, “Cinder, died. She is gone from this life, and I wish to be with her again. I… I just wish to be with her again.”
“You are a fool to call down a deity on purpose. You could have just as easily received my sister,” Light exclaimed, though there was a certain sorrow hidden behind her gaze. “But you have been shadowed with luck upon this day. I can sense your pain, and the both of us know that you could call upon me only if your very soul screamed for your love and your love alone.
“I do not often grant requests of such a sort, unlike my sister, who joys in tricking lovers to be her slaves for all eternity. I find that traveling into the next world is the best option— that waiting for Darkness to collect you and transfer your soul fresh and new into another world is the best way to go.” She stopped speaking, then fell to her knees so she and Kai were at eye-level with one another. “But I have met your soul in another world— one where it knew only pain. I have met many creatures of the Earth through my eons of serving them. I aid those in all the universes known alongside my sister. But in all that time I have never stumbled upon the same man twice.
“And it is for that reason that I shall grant you your request,” Light said, touching her fingers against Kai’s cheek. She winced as she wiped the tears from his face.
Kai couldn’t breath, unable to process the words she was speaking to him. He would be with Cinder once more— she would be returned to him. All would be right in the world once more.
“However, I cannot reunite you with the girl you knew in this world,” Light explained with a sigh. “With your love gone for over a year, that piece of her soul has already passed into a new universe— it has been wiped of all her joy and all her sorrows. That piece of Cinder now abides somewhere else.”
Within an instant, Kai felt his world crumble into a thousand pieces. He hated himself for believing that it had been possible— that he could be with Cinder once more. But he was too late; he had waited too long. Now he would have to live the rest of this wretched life without her and hope to meet her in another universe.
“Do not fret, dear child,” Light chided, smoothing the hair back from his face in a motherly fashion. “For there is hope yet.”
“There is?” Kai asked.
“Yes; for while that fraction of Cinder that you know has vanished into another world, her soul still resides in other universes. You see, the soul lives thousands of lives, all in different realities. For it is not one solid being, it is an entity that never ceases to exist, and can exist in more than one place at once. The only problem being that the more time it spends in one universe, the more corrupt and destroyed it becomes. If your soul could recall other realities, you would understand of what I speak, for this was the exact circumstance under which we last met.”
Kai nodded along, pretending that he had even the faintest idea of what she was speaking of. She let out a great exasperated sigh, shaking her head. Light dropped her hand from his face and got to her feet.
“Your mortal mind cannot begin to comprehend the meaning of eternity. For while you shall live forever, you will not know it. There is a block upon your soul to cause you to forget; that is why it pains man so much to try and imagine living for forever.
“But that does not matter now. For when you are dead, your soul shall endure cleansing once more and be whisked off into another life in which you shall live and love and die again. Exhausting, isn’t it?”
Kai stared blankly, completely at a loss for words.
Light looked down upon him, stars shining in her eyes. “Dear child, there is another world in which your dearest love lived with you, but you were taken from her. Her soul aches for you in the way that yours aches for hers. I have never before transferred a soul to a different reality without death occurring first, but I have also never stumbled upon the same soul twice. Yours is a soul filled with more love and loss than any other I have come to know. So upon this night I shall reunite you with your love.”
The ocean began to swirl about them once more, pulling Kai into its great depths, but this time he did not scream. Light began to rise into the air, her arms spread wide as if to cup the moon above her hair. The wind howled, twisting the coils of her black hair about her face and the crimson swathes of fabric about her body. She was a glorious arrayment of red and gold and shining light.
Above the wind, Light shouted in a tongue lost to mortals, for it was the language of the first of mankind, and it had been forgotten. The sea continued to spin around Kai, fish of every color swimming about him. He was in the eye of an oceanic tornado.
Still Light rose higher into the air, pulling her crashing waves about her as she ascended toward the moon. All that Kai could see were the many sea creatures and the luminous goddess above him, growing brighter every moment.
A high-pitched scream filled his ears, though it was not a human one. It blocked out the sound of the waves and the echoing chants of Light above him. It filled his very being as the blinding light penetrated his soul.
And just as he wondered if this would be the destruction of his very soul, everything went black.
***
Kai awoke to the roar of the ocean, and felt an instant rush of cold tear through his body. His mind flashed with the memories of calling Light to him and begging her to send him to a life in which Cinder lived. He could recall the overwhelming light that had surrounded him, and the screaming that blocked out all other thoughts as the goddess rose above him in a tornado of the sea.
He pushed himself up and stared out at the waves. It was bright— the middle of the day by his reckoning— and warm. People stood in the ocean waves wearing an odd assortment of clothes rather than bathing suits. Or at least, they weren’t the kind of bathing suits that Kai knew.
A few people stared at him with quizzical looks, though Kai couldn’t deny that he probably deserved them. He wasn’t sure how long he had been laying upon the beach, though he was almost certain it had been some time.
“Are you alright, mister?” A kid asked, looking down at Kai. His cheeks were pink from sunburn, though it wasn’t particularly hot out.
“Yeah,” Kai said, getting to his feet and dusting off his jeans. The boy watched him warily. “Hey kid, what day is it?”
“December second,” the boy replied.
“And,” Kai scratched behind his ear. "What’s the year?”
The boy gawked at him for a moment, as if he thought Kai were either very dumb or very strange. “1912,” he said the year slowly, his slightly syrupy accent not helping. “What year did you reckon it to be?”
“I don’t know.” Kai glanced around, trying to gauge the situation. He didn’t know much about 1912. Actually, he knew nothing about it other than it was a couple years before World War I broke out. “Hey kid, where are we?”
The child, who couldn’t have been older than ten gave him an incredulous stare, then glanced over his shoulder, as if to check for his mother. “Savannah, sir,” he said.
“Savannah…”
“Georgia, sir,” the kid said, taking a couple steps back from Kai.
“Okay.” Kai sucked in a breath between his teeth, trying to think of what to do next. He was beginning to panic, for he did not know where to find Cinder in this different time and place. He didn’t even know if her name was Cinder, or even Selene.
“Hey kid?” Kai asked, glancing back down to talk to the boy, but he was running toward a woman glaring daggers at Kai.
Releasing a sigh, Kai walked away from the beach and toward the bustling town. People shot glares at him as he walked down the streets. He wasn’t exactly dressed in the way a normal twenty-first century guy would be, but his jeans and shredded red t-shirt didn’t fit in with the people surrounding him either. But there wasn’t a thing he could do about it; he had no money and no connections. He was alone in a world that did not belong to him. He couldn’t even be certain that Georgia meant the same thing to these people as it did him.
He was beginning to wonder if perhaps this was all some ridiculous dream, and whether or not he would wake up soon. But he’d thought that a lot over the past year, praying to whatever being that saw over mankind that Cinder wasn’t dead— that he wasn’t alone. That he could be with his wife once more.
And then he saw her.
Her hair was longer than she’d ever worn it in his reality, nearly reaching her waist, and she wore a pale pink dress that fell well past her knees. But if those details were strange, it was nothing in comparison to the buggy she was pushing in front of her. Kai felt his stomach drop. Was she married to another man? Had she chosen Thorne in this reality instead of him?
Panic gripped him, but before he could run and hide in an alleyway, she glanced up and right at his face. Her eyes widened with shock, then joy, then fear. It was that last look that made his heart ache. He had known Cinder for seven years, but never had she looked at him in such a way.
She sunk to her knees, hands gripping the front of the stroller. “Kai,” she breathed, staring at him now with absolute horror. A tear traced down her cheek and fell to the concrete like a single drop of rain. The pain on her face ripped through his body— he could not stand to watch her suffer so.
He rushed to her side, kneeling down upon the ground beside her, much like Light had done with him the night before, or whenever it was that he had spoken with the goddess. She shook as he brushed her hair from her face and cupped her cheek with his hand. “Cinder,” he whispered, voice low. “I know that this is confusing and frightening, but I need to talk with you. I have things to explain.”
“But you’re dead,” she sobbed, turning her face away from his and shutting her eyes tight. “You didn’t make it off the ship alive. They told me you drowned. They told me you were dead. You’re dead. You’re just a figment of my imagination. You can’t be real.”
“Cinder,” Kai hushed, glancing around them. There were people walking past them, staring with curious eyes, but none of them looked nervous for Cinder’s sake. “Cinder, I know that I’m dead here. And I know that my explanation for my being here might not make any sense, but I need to speak with you in private. I can explain everything. I will explain everything. I just need for us to go somewhere where we can’t be overheard.”
She opened her eyes and the look of absolute shame in her eyes caused his heart to stop. Tears traced down her cheeks in abundance; Kai had never known Cinder to cry in such a way. He worried that she would say no— that she had moved on. That his coming here was a burden upon her. But slowly, she nodded her head.
***
They went to a park just down the street from the beach. It was run-down, with a sad swing set of splintering seats and an abandoned jungle gym. There were no children around, or even any people for that matter, a fact that Kai found almost strange. Though at his inquisitive look, Cinder simply looked away from him.
She led him to a park table that sat somewhat lopsided but was sturdy all the same. She parked the buggy beside her, drawing the cover up so it shielded whatever was inside.
Kai took a seat across from her, bouncing his legs with nerves as he watched her and she looked away. He didn’t understand why she was acting in such a way. He hadn’t had much time to think of how he expected her to react to him appearing to her out of nowhere, but it definitely hadn’t been this. Confusion, yes. But this show of shame was frightening.
“Cinder,” Kai said, tilting his head in an attempt to get her to look at him. “Cinder, what’s the matter?”
She inhaled deeply, a great shuddering breath. Then finally, she looked at him. Her eyes were red and her cheeks puffy. But despite the remorse coloring her features, she was still his Cinder. She was the girl that he had met at ASU his Junior year in college. She was the girl he had fallen in love with.
“They told me that you died,” she whispered. “I-I–”
“Alright,” Kai cut in, not wanting her to believe that she had insulted his memory in any way. After all, he was dead in this reality. He did not wish for her to believe that anything she had done after his death was wrong. “Sorry, love, I really don’t mean to cause you any harm. I just– I don’t know how to explain what I’m about to tell you.” Somehow his words came out slow and calm, though he felt rather as if he were about to explode. “But I need to tell you something, and I only ask that you listen to the entirety of my story because it might sound somewhat preposterous.”
She nodded her head slowly, tears wiping at her eyes.
Kai told their story, starting from the day he had met her back when she still lived with her step-sister. He explained that he had loved her for five years in silence before finally proclaiming his love for her when she’d explained that she’d never been in love before. He told her how they had gotten married only three months later and lived two years together happily before she’d died in a dreadful car accident.
She listened silently, her tears drying and her eyes hardening and he explained how Thorne had been in love with her and how Kai had gotten into a fight with both him and her father. She never once interrupted him, even as he explained his months of mourning, then his months of searching for a way to conjure one of the sisters of life and death.
It was only when he told her of how Light had appeared to him on the beach and brought him to her world through an oceanic tornado filled with moonlight that she chose to interrupt.
“What?” She hissed, tilting her head at him in that I-don’t-believe-a-single-word-coming-out-of-your-mouth sort of a way. If she had been the Cinder of his universe, he knew that she would have asked him how high he was.
“I know it sounds ridiculous,” Kai said, “but you have to believe me. I know that I don’t belong here— that I’m not meant to live in this world. But before you died you told me that you believe in soulmates. That you thought that every person had another half. You told me when we got together that you could feel that it was right— that it was a whisper in your ear that it was me. And I didn’t believe in soulmates then, but I do now. My soul loves your soul. It has loved it in universes that I don’t even know of, but it adored you all the same. My love for you will never die, no matter how many times I die myself. You are the only one that I will ever love. I cannot help it. My soul cannot think to love another so long as it knows you.”
“But this doesn’t make any sense,” Cinder whispered, her guards coming down. “Even if you were from another universe and you loved me there, I assure you that you would not care for me in this one. Not after what I’ve done to you.”
“Did you kill me?” Kai asked, half curious and half terrified.
Cinder let out a slight, hiccupping laugh. Kai did not feel at ease.
“Cinder,” Kai said, growing serious once more. “I don’t know what happened here— what happened to me— but I know that no matter where we are in the space-time continuum, my soul will always love yours. But if you wish me to leave you, I will.” His mouth went dry with the words, but he meant them. No matter how much it hurt to be parted from her, he would do what she asked of him.
“I’m married,” Cinder blurted out. “After you died, I married Carswell. We were engaged to be married before I eloped with you in London, but when I came back and you were dead, Kingsley thought that it would be the best option. That it would be better for everyone, especially the–”
She buried her face in her hands, but all Kai could think of was that she had married Carswell Thorne— her best friend in his world. The one who had told her that he was in love with her the day that she died. The Carswell that had fought with him at Scarlet and Wolf’s house. His blood boiled with rage, though not with Cinder. She had done what she had to to survive. But Thorne— he would have gladly hit him again.
Kai sucked in a breath and returned his thoughts to the more pressing matters. He had no clue what had happened to him in this life. For all he knew, Carswell Thorne had killed him and forced Cinder to be his bride. Maybe that’s how things had worked back then. Kai was no history major, but he knew that honor was often important to people. Perhaps there had even been a duel.
“What happened to me?” Kai asked, his voice soft. “How did I die in this life?”
Cinder drew her hands down from her face, but kept her eyes averted from him as she said, “You drowned. We were on the Titanic–”
“The Titanic?” Kai interjected, with a gasp. “Like Jack and Rose?”
“I– I don’t know,” Cinder said, furrowing her brow. “But we were sailing home and the ship– the ship sank. You forced me onto a lifeboat even though I said I wanted to stay with you.” She glared at him. “And you went down with the ship. You drowned. Or froze. I do not know, I wasn’t there with you when you passed from this life and onto the next. But you left me.”
“Oh,” Kai whispered. His body deflated. “I’m sorry.”
“You should be sorry,” Cinder sneered, then she shook her head. “No. No, you were just doing what you thought was the right thing. You saved me. And you saved–” She shut her eyes again, then finally reached out toward the buggy and pulled back the top to uncover what lay inside.
Oh course Kai knew what strollers were for, but before that moment he hadn’t really considered that there would be a child inside— at the very least, not her child. His child.
But it was his child. He could tell just by looking at the small infant that he was both Cinder and Kai mixed together. He was still young, but no longer a newborn. Great black tufts of hair rested on his head, and when he opened his eyes— Kai let out a gasp. They were exactly his own.
Cinder rocked the child back and forth, running his finger over its face in a soft, motherly way that made Kai’s very soul ache. They’d had a child together, and Kai hadn’t gotten to be there. It didn’t even particularly matter to him that it wasn’t exactly his child. He should have been there, but he wasn’t. He hadn’t been there for Cinder or their baby. He had abandoned them.
“I’m so sorry,” Kai blurted, devastation seeming to carve his heart out of his body. “Cinder,” Kai sobbed, his eyes stinging with tears. “I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry. I– I did abandon you. I’m so terribly sorry.”
“Shhh,” Cinder hushed, reaching a hand across the table and laying it over Kai’s. She looked startled. “Kai–” she started, then shook her head. “Kai, I’m mad at you, or him, or– I don’t even know. I’m mad that you saved me when you didn’t save yourself. But I will never be mad that you saved him.”
Kai stared down at her hand on his and saw the tracery of an old burn. It wasn’t as severe as the one she had had in his universe, but it was still there.
Cinder seemed to realize herself and pulled back. She bit her lip and stared down at the baby, brow furrowed.
“I named him after you,” she whispered after a time.
Kai opened his mouth as if to say something, but nothing came out.
“Kaito Rikan Prince,” Cinder continued, not looking at him. “I just– I saw him, and I knew who he was. It didn’t matter that my mother thought that he should have my grandfather’s name or that Kingsley thought he should be named after himself.” She made a face at that. “I knew that he should have the name of his father and his grandfather because they had helped to save his life.
“But now that you’re here, I– I don’t really know if that fits. It would be confusing to have two Kai’s around. But Rikan— I don’t know. I think that perhaps he could be a Rikan.”
“Uh-huh,” Kai breathed, still reeling.
Cinder looked up at him, her eyes softening. “I still don’t understand everything that happened, and in all honesty, I don’t believe you understand it all either.”
“But,” Cinder continued, closing one eye as if she were cringing at herself. “I know that every night for the past eight months I have cried for the pain of missing you so. I know that you have never left my thoughts for even an instant, both in waking and in sleep. I know that my soul loves yours, and while I do not know how long it has cared for you, I know that it always will.
“I know you’re not the you that I knew, but you also are. You’re my Kai, and not just because you look and sound like him. You watch me with that same careful way, and your laugh is the same. And strangest of all, you calm my very soul. It’s as if it knows that it’s you.
“I don’t know if you still want me,” Cinder swallowed, “after all that I’ve done. But please believe me when I say that I do not love Carswell— he is my dear friend and nothing more— and he does not love me in return. Not in this life.” She looked down at her child— their child— and smiled wistfully. “But if you do still wish to be with me, if your heart can still love me in spite of my most grievous offenses, then I will run away with you once more.” She grinned at this, the way one did when a happy memory was stirred in their conscience.
“You… You want me?” Kai asked, breathless.
Cinder looked up at him, her eyes wide. “I will always want you, Kai. No matter the time or place, I will always desire you to be by my side. Always.”
Kai watched her, his eyes searching hers for any falsities; he found none. Slowly, a smile spread across his face.
They were staring at one another, eyes that had not gazed upon the other in far too long. They were poisoned souls standing before their long sought-after cure. But now that they had found one another, neither knew what to do.
Hesitantly, Kai stood and walked over to the other side of the table. He sat close enough to touch her, though he did not. He simply stared at her, wordlessly, and she stared back.
“Kai,” Cinder whispered, breathless. She still held the infant in her arms, but he had fallen fast asleep. “Kai, I–”
“I know,” he chuckled, leaning in close to her. They were both inclining toward the other, as if through a magnetic pull. He could feel her breath as their faces rested inches apart. Neither moved in, both too scared of what would happen next.
Then Cinder muttered his name, and Kai closed the gap between them.
She let out a little gasp, as if surprised. But she kissed him back, and it was as if she had never left him— as if the past year had not happened, and they had been together all the while. He brought his hand up to cup her cheek, his fingers brushing back stray strands of hair.
They broke apart, both flushed but smiling all the same. Kai couldn’t stop staring at her, and reveling in the fact that he had found her. They were together once more. She wanted him.
After a time of shared smiles and conversations about the other’s universe, Cinder asked Kai if he wanted to hold the child, and he accepted happily. And when the baby rested in his arms, tears slipped from his eyes as love overtook his soul. He’d thought about him and Cinder having kids many times during their marriage, though they’d never quite been ready for it. It didn’t even matter that this child belonged to the Kai of this world and not to him— he loved him all the same.
They made plans for what they would do— how they would leave this place and start a new life together. Cinder would pack her belongings and they would take a train to the west. She had all her money from her dowry, and the Prince estates had been left in her name after the deaths of both Prince men.
When they parted, it was a sweet farewell, filled with promises to see the other soon, for they would never abandon the other again.
***
Kai leaned back into the couch, careful not to disturb baby Rikan as he slept. He adored the feeling of holding the small child in his arms and his small stirrings in his sleep. Even the little sounds he made caused for his heart to melt.
“Hey Kai,” Cinder called, walking into the room. He shushed her, nodding his head down toward the sleeping baby, though there wasn’t much worry. Rikan was a heavy sleeper. “Oh, sorry, Ri,” she whispered, tip-toeing over to the pair of them and settling herself down beside Kai.
She grabbed a quilt from beside the couch and laid it over hers and Kai’s laps. Then she settled her head on Kai’s shoulder. She reached her hand up to rest under Kai’s, smiling as she looked down at their baby.
They had left Georgia the same day that they had met one another there, randomly deciding to take the train to Colorado. It had been a somewhat frightening journey, with both of them worrying whether or not someone would come after them, but so far, no one had. They’d been settled into their apartment for over three weeks, happy and together at last.
There were still many things that they both didn’t understand, about one another and the situation. But at the end of the day, they were Cinder and Kai— even if Cinder was still confused about the fact that Kai’s last name was Crown and not Prince, though she did claim it was growing on her.
“I love this,” Cinder said, brushing the black tufts of Rikan’s hair. “It feels right, you know?”
“Yeah.”
“For so long I felt a dreadful emptiness within me, and while there’s still a sadness for what I’ve lost, it's not as great. It’s manageable.”
“I know what you mean.” Kai kissed the top of her head. “We’re different, but the same at the same time. It’s different, but it’s also… just us. We’re still us.”
“We’re still us,” Cinder echoed, letting out a sigh.
There were so many things in Kai’s life that didn’t make sense, but it had been that way even before he’d entered into an alternate universe. He hadn’t understood why Thorne had proclaimed his love for Cinder, or why Chandler Blackburn hadn’t been able to love his daughter. Even his own crushing grief had been confusing at times. And while this world was different in customs and manners and the ways in which society functioned, none of that mattered. For so long as he was with Cinder, all of it was okay.
“I love you,” Kai whispered.
“And I love you,” Cinder said. “And I’ll love you so long as my soul survives, for you’re the only one, Kai. You’re the only one I shall ever truly love.”
“And you are the only one for me as well.” Kai grinned. “And I will love you for forever and ever. No,"  Kai said, his eyes searching hers and seeing only Cinder. "I will love you until forever ends.”
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shutupandshipit · 4 years
Text
Little Life - Ch. 5
Summary:  A baby could ruin his career before it had even started. If anyone found out, he would be kicked out of the Hero Course at the very least and UA at the very worst. Even then, how was he supposed to care for a baby once it arrived? He was a fucking seventeen-year-old boy, not a twenty-nine-year-old omega with their shit at least somewhat together.
…..
Or where Katsuki get pregnant, but is determined to make it to graduation. No matter what it takes.
Pairing: Bakudeku
Rating: T (just for language mostly)
Chapter: 5/16
Previous <- Chapter 4
Chapter 6 -> Next
Master Post
Chapter 5: 3 Months
Katsuki was more than surprised when he looked at the date and realized... he'd made it through the first trimester. He'd already made it through a third of his pregnancy without anyone discovering his tightly held secret despite the midnight snacks of strawberries and mayonnaise, or orange juice and cherries, or apple slices dipped in, of all things, Worcestershire sauce. Sero, the feck, had a terrible habit of catching him in these moments.
The beta almost always gagged at the sight and then again while Katsuki pointedly stared into his eyes as he took another bite. While Katsuki would normally agree, especially with the last, that shit had been good enough to satiate his cravings. In quiet moments, he worried about the kind of things his pup was going to enjoy, but mostly for the amount of sugar he constantly wanted to ingest. He always blamed Izuku for the blooming sweet tooth.
No one had found him out despite his exhaustion, doubling up on his food intake, and his constant mood swings. Despite vacillating wildly between needing to be close to Izuku and his friends, and then wanting absolutely nothing to do with anyone a mere hour later.
He'd made it through the first trimester, and he hadn't been found out. The thought repeated through his still mind, over and over and over until it was a mantra instead of a statement. His relief was short lived through because he knew that there was still so much more time to go.
Hissing at the sudden spike that shoved through his left eye to leave his head pounding, he was reminded exactly how much longer he had and how many more symptoms he had left to look forward to. He slammed his phone into the rumpled nest that his bed had become with a snarl. Fuck, there was still so much longer! He just wanted it to be over already!
'The joys of pregnancy and motherhood, my fucking ass!' he snarled viciously to himself, scrubbing the unwarranted and wildly unwanted tears from his eyes. As he flung his door open, he thought, 'At least you don't wake up puking your guts out every morning. Now you just vomit up your stomach every other day. What a blessing.' Really, he'd never realized how sarcastic he could be until he had only himself to talk to.
Stepping into the common room, Izuku's scent all but slapped him in the face. The nerd was humming as he cleaned away the dishes from his breakfast, seemingly pumping his pheromones through the room unconsciously. Katsuki inhaled greedily without moving, reminded that the clothes in his nest needed to be traded out sooner rather than later if he wanted his nest to remain sufficiently drenched.
His headache flared again before the pain was cut into and numbed by Izuku's scent.
Izuku's eyes jumped up, surprised, and he stared back at Katsuki. Their scents swirled and mixed as Katsuki's omega pumped out pheromones in response to his mate being so close at hand, claiming him even when an entire room separated them.
Kaminari bumped into his back sleepily, and immediately slapped a hand over his nose. "Ah, jeez! Do you guys have to do this whole power dynamic thing all the time? It's suffocating in here! I'm going to smell like you guys all day!"
Katsuki's omega purred at the simple idea. 'Alpha friend. Scent. Ours. Everyone must know alpha friend is ours.' Squashing that voice, he struggled to reel his scent back in, snarling at the difficulty of fighting his own omega.
Kaminari startled, and took several quick steps out of his reach. "Are you sure you're an omega, dude? Like, I don't understand how. You're so aggressive all the time," he asked pitifully, voice nasally and eyes tearing up as he stood nearly immobilized. He pinched his nose closed with two fingers, breathing shallowly.
"Are you sure you're a fucking alpha? You're such a pussy all the time," Katsuki snapped back harshly. He hated, hated being reminded that he should have been an alpha, that he'd been cheated by his own biology.
"Kacchan," Izuku admonished.
Rolling his eyes to glare at Izuku, he shot back, "Oh, shove it up your fucking ass, Deku!" before stomping from the dorms.
.....
He peed when he got to school. He peed at every break. He peed before and after eating lunch and when the time between breaks dragged on too long. Even now during hero training, he felt the ever present pressure on his bladder urging him to sprint to the closest restroom.
It was maddening. He didn't think he'd ever pissed so much in his life. The worst part being that the pressure was never really gone and the release was never truly satisfying. Very rarely did anything ever come out when he tried.
Honestly, he would have taken the pounding headache and roiling nausea over this. At least he could calm his stomach, but what the fuck was he supposed to do about the pressure? It's not like he could reach into his body and rearrange his organs to be more comfortable as the leech inside him was already making major head way on that little project.
He should have just accepted the discomfort like everything else instead of wishing for something different. His stupid fucking body was far too literal at times, and he wanted to hollow out his entire body as pain lanced through his eyes and nausea coiled low in his belly. Bile rose in the back of his throat.
His moment of distraction proved fatal as a well placed kick from Kirishima sent him flying.
Instinctively, he clamped his arms over his belly instead of extending them to catch his fall. He tumbled across the gym floor before sliding to a stop against the far wall. The only saving grace was that there were no teachers or other classmates around as he immediately rolled onto all fours to turn out the contents of his stomach.
'Alpha. Mate. Get to mate. Help. Help. Help,' his omega keened, pumping out distressed pheromones in hopes of attracting Izuku's attention. And attract they did.
"Kacchan!" Izuku shouted, at his side in barely an instant, hand pressed firmly to his back as his spine bowed with the force of his retching, "What happened?"
Kirishima tore over, panting out, "Oh shit! I thought he was going to block so I went full force! Katsuki, bro, are you okay?"
'Do I fucking look okay?' Katsuki wanted to scream, but there was still bile in his throat, so he just vomited again instead.
Only when Izuku shouted, "I'm going to go get Mr. Aizawa!" did he find the will to force his body into submission.
"No," he panted as saliva and bile dripped from his open mouth, latching onto Izuku's thigh to both hold him in place and push himself away from the puddle of sick, "Don't you fucking dare, Deku."
"Kacchan!" Izuku protested, but winced as Katsuki's fingers tightened. How was there even feeling left with all that muscle?
"Shitty Hair can take me back to the dorms, but. No. Teachers."
"Bro, like, I think you really need to see Recovery Girl at least," Kirishima sputtered, voice trembling and stilted at he pinched his nose closed against their pungent scents, against his pungent scent. The distress his omega had poured out was noxious.
"What I need," Katsuki snarled lowly, "Is to be taken to the dorms so I can brush my teeth and go the fuck to bed. If you won't take me, I'll just take myself." He used Izuku as an anchor, pushing himself up on trembling legs to start for the nearest exit.
Kirishima was under his arm then, looking back at Izuku.
"Go. I'll clean this up and let Mr.Aizawa know he wasn't feeling well. I'll bring your guys' stuff back. Kacchan, I'll come by to check on you later."
"Don't bother," Katsuki growled in reply, but silently hoped he would ignore him like he often did. Then he would have a reason to bundle Izuku up in his nest for the night.
.....
Kirishima stuck close to his side after getting to the dorms, watching in concern as he guzzled down bottle after bottle of water, showered, and pulled on the clothes he'd gotten Izuku to sleep in for a night to scent properly.
Sitting in the middle of his nest as he fiddled with the blanket he'd been stitching for the absolute terror growing inside him, he tried to ignore just how intensely Kirishima was watching him from his desk. How his room so obviously smelled like Izuku. He could almost taste Kirishima's concern on the air, and it had his omega whining back in return.
"Listen, bro," Kirishima said, breaking the silence and making Katsuki stiffen, "I know you're all macho 'I-don't-need-no-alpha', but I -and Midoriya and all the others- are really worried about you. Like seriously worried. I'm not trying to pry into your business or anything, but I want to help. You're my best friend, and I don't like seeing you like this."
Kirishima was earnest, so fucking earnest that it made heat press in at the backs of his eyes.
'Tell him. Tell him. Tell him. Alpha friend will help us. Tell him,' his omega chanted incessantly, and he vehemently wished he could stuff a sock don't the wolf's muzzle.
Katsuki pinched the bridge of his nose, and before he could think better, muttered, "I'm pregnant."
Silence.
Glancing over, he found tears on sun tanned cheeks and a stunned expression on his best friend's face. He groaned inwardly as the heat beaded over onto his own lashes. Fucking hormones.
"Three months. No one knows," he rambled, turning away before Kirishima could see the wetness in his own eyes and steadfastly threaded his needle into his project, but the tremble in his voice was a dead giveaway anyway, "No one knows. And you can't tell anyone, do you hear me? Not an absolute soul, or I'll kill you in cold blood. You may be my best friend, but these stupid fucking pregnancy hormones have made me feel particularly murderous." Still more silence, so he looked back. "Kirishima?"
"B-b-b-b-but how? Don't you need-" Kirishima stopped abruptly, "Who's the father? Do they know?"
Oh. He didn't honestly believe his best friend was this dense, but his classmates were constantly surprising him.
"No! Didn't you hear what I said? No one knows, and you're not going to tell him either," he snapped. He could see the wheels in Kirishima's brain turning, turning, turning, looking for answers to his numerous questions.
"But they deserve to know!"
"Yeah, he does, but I'm not going to ruin everything he's worked for if I get caught. Don't you get it? This is a career killer before the career has even started if I get caught. I'm not dragging him down with me." He was worked up, his body hot as emotion flooded his system. Something fluttered in his abdomen, and he worked to calm down. He pressed the heels of his hands over his eyes to stem the flow of tears. "Don't you get it? I can't take that from him after everything I did to him before. And you know the success rate of male omega pregnancies. There's always the chance of- I can't."
They were silent, sniffling in tandem, for the longest minute of Katsuki's life.
"Is Midoriya the father?"
Katsuki didn't answer which was answer enough.
Kirishima's scent got closer, calming sympathy flowing off him in waves. Katsuki and his omega growled lowly, warning him from putting a single finger on their nest. Kirishima just rumbled in reply. "So, this whole time, you've been doing this alone? All the puking and weird food because you're pregnant? How has Midoriya not caught on yet?"
Katsuki huffed out a strangled laugh. "Have you met Deku? He's smart, but he's also an oblivious idiot. Do you know what I had to do to get into a relationship with him? I don't let him sleep in here that often."
Kirishima laughed quietly, and his omega rolled happily at the sound, metaphorically baring its belly for the feeling of community, for the feeling of pack. "Yeah, I guess that's true. So... you're symptoms have been so bad because you're keeping your... mate," he said tentatively, "at arm's length?"
"Yeah." Katsuki dropped his hands, and the traitorous tears rushed forward. If he could rip out his own tear ducts, he would have by now.
Sitting on the floor as close to the edge of the bed as he dared to get, Kirishima stared with blatant wonder at Katsuki's stomach. It was a telling sign that he didn't immediately try to bite him for the observation.
"There's really a little life growing in there? A little mix of you and Midoriya? They're going to be a terror. Shouldn't you be, I don't know, bigger by now?"
"Yes, and I don't know. I went to my parents' doctor, and they said the baby is growing normally so there's nothing to be concerned about."
Turning his eyes up to meet Katsuki's, he whispered, "Wow, but what are you going to do when you do get bigger?"
Katsuki grimaced, looking back down at the half-finished blanket. "I don't know yet. Hope I don't show? I read that some people don't show the entire time."
Kirishima scrunched up his nose. "It'd be pretty weird to see you looking like you shoved a bowling ball up your shirt, I do have to admit." His face smoothed, and then he was grinning. "I'm really glad you trust me enough to tell me. At least I can help now however I can." In the next moment, his grin turned sly, and Katsuki's stomach dropped. "So, like, you and Midoriya, huh? When did that all start?"
Face heating, Katsuki snapped, "Get out!"
Kirishima whined, but stayed firmly planted where he was sitting.
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alchemist-shizun · 4 years
Text
5 times Logan saved the day + 1 in which ... well that could’ve gone worse!
General taglist: @whizzie72 @sapphire-knight @burningpersonflapsuitcase @softanxiouspatton @royallyanxious
Word Count: 2,716
Characters: Logan, Roman, Deceit, Virgil, Remus and Patton
Pairing(s): Logicality
Warning(s): Misgendering, crying, implied aphobia
Summary: People could say Logan was excellent at saving people in extremis. When it came to him in particular, though … what could he say. He gay panicked.
A/N: Am I not just great at summaries? I had yet to do one of this type of fics so here goes nothing. I also took the opportunity to expand the lgbtq+ rep I have in my writings, hope you don't mind! Idea originated from this post, then @pistachio-lan inspired me so yeah thank you bud you're cool. Pardon me if some scenes are too short and other much longer I can't control my creative flow anymore-- I hope you all enjoy!
1- In which Logan saves Roman's day
Entering class with the widest smile any human muscle could ever bear, Roman practically bounced towards his seat.
A group of students immediately surrounded him, few were the times where one expressed such profound happiness first thing in the morning.
Logan eyed him from his desk right next to Roman's.
People started gathering and asking what was up with him, pushing the boy, who couldn't stop smiling, to confess the reason of such joy.
« I just had the most wonderful time last night. »
Multiple voices overlapped at that, with classmates asking for details, clarifications … who it was.
Only that, Roman had forgotten for a moment that literally none of them knew the only person he could have had a date with was a boy.
That was Logan's cue to act.
« You guys are aware we had to do a quick research for today, right? »
A chaos of “what?” and similar shocked expressions ensued, driving the attention away from Roman.
« The teacher said he was going to ask what we found out about the most recent discovery on Mars. »
« Oh, you've got to be kidding me. » that one kid that, for some reason, was always ahead of the program, hit their head against the backpack they had laid on the surface of the desk. « I literally spent the whole afternoon yesterday looking stuff up and I left it all at home! »
The situation could only worsen, people frantically ran around the room with some friends, competing at who found information first.
The hint of an amused smile crossed Logan's lips.
« You just made that up. » he heard Roman go, who had noticed his behavior.
« Isn't it lovely to watch the whole class go wild with dismay? »
Roman snorted and absorbed their classmates' despair. « You're a mean one, Lo. » he kept looking ahead of himself. « But thank you. »
Neither of their smiles faltered.
2. In which Logan rescues Deceit from a probably very uncomfortable explanation.
Nights out with friends often meant the weirdest stuff was about to happen. The one time they had started to jokingly call one of their group “Deceit” was definitely one of their top moments.
But, especially, the most delirious ones happened when they threw ridiculous YouTube videos or vines in the lot.
« Look at this. » Logan and Deceit leaned on the table towards their two friends. It was an extract from a song Bo Burnham had released years prior.
And, well, when certain comments come to you naturally … there's no way to stop yourself before the deed is done.
« Oh, that's me. » Deceit had said. Or, actually, Deceit had said right upon hearing the lyric “half-boy”.
Promptly forgetting for a single instant his other two friends had no clue of him being a demi-boy.
Not even the hint of a single trait of confusion could paint their friends' faces when Logan intervened.
« I've actually seen one of his shows in person in the past. »
« Oh my goodness, you have? » wide eyes stared at him with deep interest.
As the three engaged a conversation on the comedy skills of the man, Deceit was able to steady his heartbeat and take some deep breaths to release the anxiety that had taken over his chest.
He caught Logan's eyes when the waiter had arrived with their orders; he raised a hand and pressed his fingers to his chin, then moved them slightly outward in Logan's direction.
Thank you.
Logan gave a small nod and, just like that, everything went back to the regular outing.
3- In which Logan is Virgil's coolest cousin.
To say Virgil despised having guests over for the night was an understatement. He was obliged to tidy up his generally messy but comfortable room when all he ever wanted was to sleep for eternity as soon as he touched his pillow.
And, of course, there was always something out of place that his little cousin pointed out. Not that he had allowed her to follow him when he had excused himself upstairs.
He heard Logan's voice echo « Miranda! » around the steps.
The door to Virgil's room opened and Miranda was already jumping on his bed.
« Viv! Your bed sheets are so fluffy! »
Virgil forced himself to smile. “She doesn't know.” he repeated in his mind. “It's just a nickname.”
« Miranda, didn't you hear your parents telling you to stay down? » Logan's reprimanding tone made the kid giggle.
« Maybe. » the two older cousins shared a playful eye roll.
« Come on. » Logan held his hand out towards her.
« But I want to stay in her room to see what she does! »
She doesn't know.
« Have you ever heard of privacy? »
« Nope. » Miranda laughed.
Then she noticed something and her eyes grew with curiosity.
« What's that? »
Virgil's eys followed her gaze and fell upon his binder. Of course, out of all things, she had to notice that.
He went to open his mouth to say something, but nothing came out. What could he make up this time? Whatever he told her, she would have wanted to try it on at all costs.
Were he to say the truth, though ... she'd have probably gone to their relatives talking about how he had a weird piece of clothing and that could only end badly.
« Oh, that must be part of your future cosplay? »
Virgil snapped his head back up only to be met with Logan's quick wink.
Keep it up.
« Oh, yeah. I have to sew some things on. »
Miranda gasped in amazement and clapped her hands together. « Can I try it? »
Damn.
« I'm afraid you should have your cousin's exact size. If not, that particular material would be damaged in the ending result. » did he keep lying only to protect him?
The kid whined but dropped the disappointment right away. « What's the name of the character? »
« Virgil. »
« Who is he? »
« Well, just ... » Virgil narrowed his eyes, looking for the best explanation. « Just a boy. »
« Why him? » Miranda was in that brilliant age where everything needed to be questioned.
Logan checked with a side glance to see if his cousin needed assistance. Instead, he found him smiling to himself.
« It makes me happy. »
The little girl seemed pleased enough with that answer. « Then can I cosplay with you one day? Carnival is near! »
« Of course, I can make whichever costume you prefer. »
She squealed in joy and threw her arms around him, squeezing him tightly.
Then, she started running off towards the stairs. And she said it.
« Thank you, Virgil! » giggling was heard, but, apart from that, complete nothingness.
Until Virgil dropped on the edge of the bed with his hands covering his face, a slight tremble could be seen shaking his body.
Logan was immediately by his side, offering one of his rare hugs that Virgil gladly accepted.
It felt so nice. Achieving a goal prematurely but ultimately feeling the satisfaction melt away with the knowledge that he was never going to experience that ever again.
What an utopic illusion.
« It's fine. You're okay. » Logan tried, as his cousin's body shook with every sob he failed to repress.
« I'm sorry. »
« Don't be. »
Virgil let go of him as he started wiping his cheeks clear of fresh tears of fear and frustration.
When he looked at the other again, there was a hint of a smile dancing on his lips. « You're the best cousin. »
Logan returned it. « Always glad to be of help. »
4- In which Logan prevents Remus from carving his eyes out out of annoyance.
The blissful rest lunch-break gave after hours of mostly a quiet balance between interest and boredom was the most important reward as noon approached.
That wasn't exactly the case all the time.
Logan and Remus were sitting with two of their classmates who just so happened to have lab afterwards with both of them.
It wasn't like the they were particularly irritating people, on the contrary they radiated a calm energy most of the times.
That one day, though. It seemed something had happened in one of their lives and they needed all the time in the world to get every single detail out. They involved every one of them in the conversation and everything would have been fine if they had stopped at simply asking opinions on the matter.
« C'mon Remus, how about you? »
« What? »
« You never talk about this stuff. » one of the two leaned forward. « Spill the beans. There has to be someone you like. »
Remus smiled falsely. Oh, he was so done. They had gone the last fifteen minutes trying to get out of him information that he didn't have.
« Of course! You if you stuffed your mouth with trash bags and finally stopped talking. »
« Aw, stop being weird and evading the question. »
Logan eyed the one who had just spoken.
« I am not, I just don't care. »  Also, since I'm aromantic, I'd really appreciate if you stopped before I prohibit your breathing.
« Everybody gets crushes! »
And I'm about to crush your face.
Remus's hands started fidgeting out of stress under the table, which Logan noticed.
He was about to snap.
« I do. »
The two lab partners' eyes widened and focused on Logan all at once.
« You what now? »
Remus's face was painted with a confused expression: he knew his friend would never open up about himself to acquaintances, let alone about his feelings.
It was what happened after that made him understand.
The other two completely concentrated their attention on Logan, started asking questions about the boy he had been referring to, trying to guess who his crush was almost as if it was a game or anything of their business.
It … did feel kind of sad.
As Remus was able to catch his glance for a sole moment, he wore the “you didn't have to do that” expression.
All he saw was Logan shrugging in a “it doesn't matter” way and carrying on with subjecting himself to the pain of their classmates.
He made a mental note to remind him how grateful he was for that funky little nerd's existence.
5- In which Logan is the Patton protector.
Having friends living nearby school sometimes meant hang out invitations. Also, it often times meant free food which was everything that was good in the whole planet.
Logan had internally beamed as Patton had come back to the living room asking him to stay for dinner, while he had pretended not to hear a faint “Would you like to stay forever?” coming from his little sister.
He had tried not to agree right on the spot, but it was difficult to hesitate when being asked to spend even more time than intended with one of his favorite people.
That was how the two of them were now sitting with Patton's lovable family, discussing unimportant things and just all around enjoying their time.
Logan loved being around them, it was a delightful break from the coldness in his own home, he could get along with all the components just fine.
There was a television behind Patton's parents; they hadn't been exactly listening to the news, but it seemed a broadcast about the recent Pride parade in town was being held.
« Oh look! » Patton pointed to the screen with a toothy smile as a pan flag flashed across the TV.
He froze while his parents' expression grew perplexed the more they paid attention to the news.
« You really need to get rid of this habit you have of getting excited when you see dogs. » Logan started, adjusting his glasses as Patton and his parents turned to him.
« Why? » Patton's confused tone was half-real.
« You almost startled me simply because there was a dog on television. »
That was when he understood. « It was an adorable husky, Logan! »
Laughter started to fill the room and the previous disorientation was soon forgotten.
As his guest stood up to get more food, Patton heard a whisper being stealthily delivered to his ear.
« Be careful. »
He couldn't help but smile to himself. Logan was always on the lookout for others and it was a quality that almost came natural to him.
And he needed to thank him for that properly.
6- In which Logan forgets to stop himself.
An echo of “thank you”s rained down on Logan yet again as he and Patton stepped out on the garden of Patton's home.
This time, though, there was none to prevent him from potentially ruining his relationship with his interlocutor. And, ultimately, even everyone else around him.
As his cousin was used to believe the worst outcomes to happen, it did actually affect him at times. But, in that moment, he had gone completely blank and forgot to steady his impulse control.
« I'd do anything for you. » was what aimed fire.
He had meant to only think that.
Yet, he didn't find heartbreak and misery.
Instead, he watched as Patton's expression softened even more. Patton got a few steps closer, so that only Logan could hear his murmur.
« I feel the same. »
Logan's eyebrows arched slightly. Happiness quickly gave way to a clenching feeling in his chest.
« No, wait. » he responded, looking down and then back up. « I don't think that's a good idea. »
Patton's eyes narrowed for a moment. « For me to like you? » that was absurd and maybe his tone was a bit hurt.
Why would he say something like that?
« Lo, you're a wonderful person, and- »
« No- I mean, it's not that. » Logan gesticulated, trying to find the best explanation without actually telling anything.
« Logan, you know whatever you'll tell me, all the good things I think of you won't change. »
The boy took a deep breath, some of the weight relieved already.
« I am asexual. » he looked away immediately. « And I know plenty of people despise that and say it's not real, so if you don't- »
« I think that's wonderful. » when Logan met Patton's gaze, he found one of those smiles Patton only dedicated to him. « And I don't see why I shouldn't like that about you, too. »
A smile slipped on Logan's face, the dreadful feeling leaving space for relief. « Now you're just making it too difficult with your unconditional love. »
Patton let out a quiet snicker. « Well then, » his tone grew bolder. « We could talk this over dinner sometimes soon if you'd like? » he had clapped his hands together, looking up at Logan with a twinkle of hope in his eyes.
« That was too sly for me to refuse. »
« As if you weren't happy I just asked you out! »
All Logan could do was, of course, groan at how flustered that line made him. « I'll concede that to you. »
As the time to part drew nearer, Patton took two steps back, thoughtful.
« Are you okay with hugs right now? »
Despite having told his friends years prior of how he had never fancied physical touch that much, he was always grateful whenever they posed that question.
« I am. »
« Alright. » Patton stepped closer again and wrapped his arms around Logan's neck, who returned the hug rather quickly as he heard a quiet “thank you” being whispered to his ear.
Then, the shorter boy stepped away, but kept his hands on Logan's shoulders.
« You're my hero. »
With that, Patton was gone.
And Logan was left astonished in the middle of a summer's night.
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gunkyengines · 4 years
Note
4, 7, and 9, for the s/i questions if you're still taking them!
Ohhhh my gods @jetsetspy I’m so sorry for answering this question so late ;-; My answers are under the cut!
4. Does your insert have a backstory? Tell us about it! How does their backstory, if any, define who they are? How does it reflect their relationships now? Their hopes and dreams?
Bellamy Amplexus – Final Fantasy XV SI
Bellamy doesn’t have much of a backstory just yet, but I do know this:
·         Their family isn’t a huge part of their life, aside from a younger sibling, who, to this day, I have not yet named.
·         They want a sense of belonging somewhere, and have a number of self-image complications (it’s not really a set of “issues” to them, because they’ve found comfort in their body and self over time, but they still have wishes about what they could be seen as—androgyny is a tough line to straddle).
·         They hate the nickname “Bella”.
·         Bells, as far as I’m concerned right now, finds their sense of belonging amongst the ‘Bros ever since they just sorta started… tagging along, I guess? It was just an act of good will from the prince and his guards and a bit of hitchhiking on Bells’ end that got them where they are now.
·         They were originally a bit of a vagabond prior to meeting up with the guys. Hitchhiking, walking absurdly long distances, camping out often, all that jazz.
Junko Hisayo – Persona 5 SI
Junko is a character who I largely based off of my late-high school self for both self insertion and coping reasons, but a few things do set her apart from me. As in, she’s a pretty close approximation, but by no means is she a direct, direct copy of me.
She’s a student at Kosei Academy, simply due to the fact that I read on the wiki that it’s speculated to be a catholic school (I was brought up in the catholic education system, so, I could find some accuracy and likeness in that), and attended meetings at both the drama and art club there. She has bitter memories of the two clubs, as she was betrayed by the one major figure in both: her childhood friend Hideo Sunjaya. Since then, she’s taken to expressing her creative outlets in circles outside of her student life, and finds her passion in writing. At the time of Persona 5 canon, she’s set on becoming an editor. In the future canon, she does in fact achieve this goal. In this way Junko’s less of a model of who I was, and instead she’s what I hope to be.
She comes from a somewhat broken home, but has a strong relationship with her mother. Despite her current disconnect, Junko feels that she owes it to her parents that she has such a good understanding of her own identity, as they were supportive when she first came out as sapphic, and continued their support when she decided to be GNC and soon after came into her identity as a demigirl.
Elizabeth Beaufort – Red Dead Redemption 2 SI
Lizzie is a pretty lighthearted simulacrum of a more feminine version of me, translated loosely into the scope of the year 1899. I’m by no means a historian, but here’s Lizzie’s life.
Elizabeth Beaufort is a born and raised resident of the town of Valentine. Her mother is whatever the RDR2 universe’s equivalent of Quebecois French is, having moved to Saint Denis due to a family matter down there, and subsequently met her father. A Valentine resident himself, he beguiled her mother and convinced her to move to Valentine and live as the wife of a livestock owner (he comes from some blue blood ‘round those parts—as mentioned by the VDL in Chapter 2, the town is a goldmine of trade).
As a lady of relative privilege, life was… well, it was what a privileged life is. Sheltered, simple, and for the most part pretty damned easy. However, her naivete wasn’t something that her mother would stand to see Elizabeth keep, as she wanted a strong daughter who wouldn’t simply bend to the hand of tradition. Would I say that Lizzie would’ve most certainly rallied with those girls in Rhodes? YES. I’d rather die than portray any iteration of myself as complacent rather than progressive lmao. Elizabeth Beaufort flows in the vein of RDR2’s… I guess, progressive* writing? More** on that below, I guess???
*I don’t actually know how well it was received by everyone else, and honestly, I’m not even gonna try to speak on anyone else’s behalf but my own—I found that RDR2, despite some shortcomings, made itself a relatively hospitable environment for me as a white queer.
** Lizzie does struggle a lot with her internalized homophobia? Like… she had a lot of difficulty when she was younger coming to terms with the fact that she’s bisexual. This is less prevalent in her backstory considering it only ever surfaces post-canon. Yes, my SI and her FO came out to each other at random after being married to him for approximately 3 months. And it went fuckin’ great cos guess what!! Theyre both bi!! WLW/MLM solidarity!!! Don’t @ me.
Gillian Wright – Red Dead Redemption 2 SI
·         Gilley was brought up amongst a gang of outlaws, and her being born a woman changed nothing about the things she was taught by said gunslingers. She left the group she once called family because of the leadership turning sour. From that point forward she went it alone, shifting in and out of her identity as Gilley Wright and her masculine persona (a pseudonym-turned-identity) Giles Kingsley, to keep herself straddling notoriety and anonymity.
·         Gilley only started wearing her hair short because of an encounter in which her longer hair was used as a means to pull her back into harm’s way. She lopped it off shortly after out of the feeling that it was a necessity, but soon found that she preferred it that way.
·         Thaddeus, her large draft horse, once pulled carts. She took him during a robbery so that she’d have an adequate mount for her getaway. The connection was instant between them.
Taeko Atou – Tokyo Ghoul OC
Taeko went by another name before her time in the 20th ward. She had another face, another life. But that was a self she had to leave far, far behind. Before “Taeko”, she was a reckless twentysomething ghoul living off of her father’s money, basking in the upper echelons of society, indulging in Scrapper shows and seeing humanity as nothing but an unprepared buffet. The danger ranking on her CCG profile demonstrated as much.
One night, however, her cushy life changed drastically. She went out drinking after a Scrapper show with one of her friends and decided to go hunting with her. Things were as usual, they stayed in their territory, but ended up getting apprehended by a group of Doves. During the getaway, her and her friend were separated, and she had no way of knowing whether her friend was alive. Drunk, desperate, and rather terrified, she decided to abandon all else and ripped her mask off to taunt the officers. They deserved to see her face, covered in gore and as ghoulish as they came! Nothing mattered to her at that point and she wanted to give them a scare…!
That is, until the next morning, when she recovered from her hangover and realized what she’d done. One of those Doves got a picture of her. In a panic, she called her father to ask for some sort of mercy money to clear the issue up. He’s frustrated with her constantly getting into increasingly worse trouble and tells her this: he’s going to pay for her to completely change her identity and her face so that she can move elsewhere, completely out of the way of harm. After that, he’d be cutting her off, leaving her with only the savings that she had prior to the cut-off. No more handouts.
This is when she became Taeko Atou, a pseudonym based off of her Scrapper show guest alias, “Miss AT”, and moved to the 20th ward. She has to adjust to average life a la Schitt’s Creek or Arrested Development.
7. What kind of clothing style do they like? What would they never be caught dead wearing? What’s likely in their closet right now?
Bellamy Amplexus – Final Fantasy XV SI
·         Bells LOVES anything that’ll make them look cute and androgynous. They’re super partial to a femme prince aesthetic. Blouses and linens and vests and suspenders and a bunch of that cute shit. (Yes, this is my preferred fashion style and I wish I could look like that all the time.) They’re also into stuff like your average sundresses and such when it’s too hot for “princey” attire because hell yeah.
·         They’d hate to wear… hm… short party dresses? Cocktail dresses n shit. (No shade to those tho theyre cute. Just not Bellamy’s style.)
Junko Hisayo – Persona 5 SI
·         Junko’s super masc and butch in her presentation, binds her chest, does the simple graphic tee + jeans thing a lot. Think “Kanji Tatsumi but a lesbian”.
·         She lowkey doesn’t like wearing overly feminine clothes, like, she does not vibe with dresses.
Elizabeth Beaufort – Red Dead Redemption 2 SI
·         Lizzie is pretty standard when it comes to clothes: blouses and skirts, dresses, all just… really basic stuff. She likes simple and solid colours, maybe simple patterns. She’s also like… very cottagecore. Probably likes overalls if she ever wears ‘em?? I’m not a frickin’ historian and I’m not gonna google early 1900s clothes styles at this hour don’t @ me.
·         This is literally just because I’m basic as all fuck and I like a skirt/blouse or sundress style outfit. I don’t wear it often but that’s my jazz y’know?
Gillian Wright – Red Dead Redemption 2 SI
·         Gilley’s another one of my more boyish characters. She doesn’t deliberately go out of her way to look like a man unless she’s under the guise of her male persona Giles Kingsley. But let me tell you—she goes all out for those occasions, even electing to simulate stubble on her face with cosmetics. Think “cowboy drag king” and you’ll hit the mark.
·         Other than that, she just wears whatever’s convenient and comfortable.
 9. Their favorite foods? Colors? Activities? What do they enjoy in life? How do they express their joy for things they like?
As dumb as this sounds I completely burnt out after writing only 2 self insert likes/interests profiles, forgive me lol.
Bellamy Amplexus – Final Fantasy XV SI
·         Favourite Food: Bells is indecisive, but they will gladly eat anything Ignis puts in front of them. They’re thoroughly convinced he uses magic in his cooking. (They’re only half joking about that—it’s so good!) If they were made to decide a top three, it’d likely be Garden Curry, Broiled King on a Stick, and Moogle Mousse with Kupoberry Sauce. Honorable mention being Gyashi Chips (yes, they like what’s effectively Eosian kale chips).
·         Favourite Colours: ANYTHING PASTEL will win Bellamy over, along with any colour considered light and airy. White, silver, pale green, soft gold, baby blue, lavender, and also whatever the sky has going on at any given time of the day—they’re an aesthetic little shit.
·         Favourite Activities: Travelling, leisure shopping when funds allow it (if given the means, Bellamy will 100% engage in excessive retail therapy, no joke), swimming, loving their friends, talking about books and music, gardening, and (I know this sounds vain but bear with me) preening. Yes, they’d be a vlogger in another life. Don’t @ me
·         Bells loves to talk in excess about what they like, and on occasion, when words fail, they tend to express it through squealing, jumping, etc. If someone points out how passionate Bells is about these things, they’ll end up flustered and ask the person if they could continue. I guess you could say Bellamy stims? I’m not diagnosed with anything, so take this with a grain of salt, but I do have stimming habits.
Junko Hisayo – Persona 5 SI
·         Favourite Food: Junko’s pretty partial to miso soup. It’s one of her weaknesses. Total comfort food. (Bro I fuckin’ love miso soup.) As well as baked goods like cupcakes.
·         Favourite Colours: Red, black, silver, pink, blue, purple.
·         Favourite Activities: drawing (sketches, scribbles, doodles, colouring, etc., singing, baking/cooking, writing, and she learned to love gardening after getting close to Haru.
·         Junko tends to show her happiness through verbal and artistic expression, she’s also the type that tends to crack jokes (mostly shitty puns followed up by finger guns).
Again, thank you so much for asking, thank you so much for asking! QwQ Asks are still open, everyone.
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rainhalydia · 4 years
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I wasn't in fandom at the time, so I'm curious about how you felt, as a Throbb shipper, about GRRM confirming Robb didn't love Theon as much as he loved Jon? And how did Throbb shippers in general feel about it?
Well, I can’t say how Throbb shippers in general felt. Not that happy, I’d guess? I can tell how I felt and still feel about it, though I didn’t see that interview until long after the fact so I didn’t catch any drama anyway. To sum it up: I don’t care.
A much longer, rambling word-vomit under the cut:
I think I summed up my feelings very exactly, but I kept thinking a lot about this ask and having lots of opinions, so here we go. I’ll preface this long-ass rant by saying I have no professional training in literary analysis. I just read a lot, overthink everything and had two classes in college about literature.
First of all, this tendency to give great weight - i.e., to care at all - about what writers have to say about their own work is completely foreign to me. I mean it literally - the main framework of literary analysis I’ve encountered throughtout my education was basically centered around the text, and I very much adopt it without even giving it conscious thought. I don’t seek out interviews, addendums, essays, anything at all. Sometimes I read it if they fall on my lap. Such was the case with this interview.
It’s not that writers don’t have things to say, or that those things are not interesting or valuable or sometimes shed a new light on their work. It’s that at the end of the day they’re not important! Only canon is canon. I don’t mean to sound snob or pedantic, like the books are law or something. And any canon has a number of valid interpretations (within limits), they’re not absolute, they allow some wiggle room. But any text needs by definition to stand on its own without writers poking their heads inside the room to say how we should interpret it. If we need imput from the writers to do it, then the text is already bad, it failed, sorry. Interpretation is the reader’s job. In fact, it’s the reader’s prerrogative.
Much of this hipe around authors, I believe, has to do with the rise of social media and how close to the public writers suddenly were. And I feel that applies especially for authors like Martin, who are very talented and have created a very rich world that has become really popular. And ASOIAF is still ongoing. It’s natural that everyone wants to pick at his brain and know where the story is going!
And here I make my second very unpopular point: authors are not specialists in their own work.
He knows more than anyone about it, certainly, and currently Martin is probably the only person who knows how things will end (though we have plenty of bare bones the show left), but he is, as he has admited himself, a gardener. The story was bound to get away from him, given his own writting style. The group of people who will be specialists on his work don’t include him, and they don’t even exist yet. They will only emerge when he’s stopped writing (so probably after his death) and his work has ended (if it was finished or not). Then people can read every single thing he has ever written, which is much more than ASOIAF, and analyse it to death, pick it apart from every single angle, the ones Martin intended to be there and the ones he didn’t.
Again, I don’t mean to come across as snobbish and say Martin does not know his own work, characters, creation, etc. He does! But no writer can leave all their biases behind when they start writing, so these books are not neutral to begin with. Add to it the lots and lots of variables readers will bring when they interpret the text, and any book is always going to be more than the author intends by default.
If my argument seems absurd, let me point out that it has already happened to a certain degree: my own interpretation from reading ASOIAF is that it is full of anti-war, anti-violence messages, and yet from it has sprung an adaptation that, in my own interpretation, glorifies war and violence to a ridiculous degree. I’m not alone in these opinions, btw. They’re pretty common in fandom spaces, so I’m sure I didn’t pull them out of thin air. We can argue until we’re blue in the face that the Ds can’t read anything for shit, they certainly don’t do themselves any favors, but you know, they interpreted the books well enough to correctly guess who was Jon’s mother and get permission to adapt it in the first place. I’ve since seen people (I’m not naming names, anyone still reading will just have to take my word for it, but I swear they do exist) defend that the show is a faithful adaptation of the books and that the glorification of war was there too, and others say that the show didn’t actually glorify war, it had an anti-war message! Who is wrong? Well, I don’t know. As I said, the GRRM’s specialists are yet to come, and I’m certainly not one of them. What I believe, however, is that all of us brought our own biases to the same text, interpreted it according to them, and came to different, often conflicting conclusions.
See also what GRRM said about the partnership between Jaehaerys and Alysanne and what most people made of their relationship from Fire and Blood. See the sept sex/rape scene controversy. See the Dany/Drogo controversy.
Do you get why I put little weight in Martin’s interviews to form my opinion? So given that and my own background, I’ll chose my own interpretation of the text rather than Martin’s apocrypha.
What does the book canon, and the book canon alone, say about Robb’s feelings for Theon? Well, unless new material is released, we’ll just never know for sure, because Robb isn’t a pov character. We do have Theon’s side of things - he has a certain affection for Robb, he’s more of a brother than his own brothers, he wishes he had died with him or at least that he had been there at the moment of Robb’s death, depending on how sincere he feels like being. We also know a little bit of what other characters thought of their relationship. Bran says Robb admired Theon and enjoyed his company, and it’s implied that he finds this baffling. He’s also jealous that Robb spends more time with Theon and other adults doing adult things than with his brothers. And though I’ve talked at lenght about interpretation and wiggle room to understand things, it’s also pretty evident that Robb is down to hear Theon talk about his sexual conquests in some detail as long as his brothers aren’t around.
Of course, Bran is a child and much as he loves Robb, their time together is cut short and Robb is not his main concern anyway. We get most material about Robb and Theon’s relationship from Cat’s pov. There’s a lot we can analyse and Damien had already done a great not-meta about it, but sadly he’s since deleted, thank you to the demons who got on his case, but for me the most damning piece of evidence that Robb feels very strongly for Theon is this:
“Robb will avenge his brothers. Ice can kill as dead as fire. Ice was Ned’s greatsword. Valyrian steel, marked with the ripples of a thousand foldings, so sharp I feared to touch it. Robb’s blade is dull as a cudgel compared to Ice. It will not be easy for him to get Theon’s head off, I fear. The Starks do not use headsmen. Ned always said that the man who passes the sentence should swing the blade, though he never took any joy in the duty.”
So to unpack what is going on: nearly drowing in grief, Cat rambles to Brienne about lots of things, including Theon’s impending death sentence. By Northern dumb tradition, Robb must be the one to behead Theon, his former best friend turned enemy, turned betrayer, turned brother-killer. And she says that it won’t be easy for him to do it.
Now, it can be argued that this is partly because of the sword. They’ve lost their sharp valyrian steel and Robb uses an inferior blade, not as sharp. I reject this interpretation as the only explanation (and here comes my own biases) because she mentions the headsman right after. A headsman might be more experienced, but it’s not like he’d have valyrian steel to do it either. Rather, I think she’s talking about how being able to pass Theon off to be killed by a headsman would be easier on Robb psychologically, but it’s not really an option, so Robb will have to suffer.
At this point, to Robb’s knowledge, Theon has: 1) betrayed his trust and used the ruse of negociations with Balon to escape; 2) attacked the northern shore and enslaved his people; 3) attacked and took control of his home; 4) made his brothers hostages; 5) killed his brothers; 6) denied his brothers the right to be buried in a decent way; and finally, 7) burned their bodies and exposed them for all of the North to see.
And after all this, having to be the one to kill Theon will make him suffer.
We know one of the moments Robb gets the angriest in the books is when Bran is threatened by the wildlings. He is the acting Lord and keeping his little brothers safe is his responsability. He nearly bites Theon’s head off when Theon saves Bran in a risky way and we know that was uncharacteristic because Theon is still sulking about that a whole year later. So his siblings are dear to him, but even after Theon does everything from steps 1 to 4, he’s still sure they’re not in danger and that Theon won’t do anything to them. That’s how much he trusts Theon. It takes literal murder to make him change his mind.
But then he does change his mind. He believes Theon did those awful, awful things to his brothers. After that knowledge has had time to settle in, after he believes the worst of Theon, he has this amazing convo with Cat that I’ll quote whole because it’s amazing:
“Enough.” For just an instant Robb sounded more like Brandon than his father. “No man calls my lady of Winterfell a traitor in my hearing, Lord Rickard.” When he turned to Catelyn, his voice softened. “If I could wish the Kingslayer back in chains I would. You freed him without my knowledge or consent … but what you did, I know you did for love. For Arya and Sansa, and out of grief for Bran and Rickon. Love’s not always wise, I’ve learned. It can lead us to great folly, but we follow our hearts … wherever they take us. Don’t we, Mother?”
Is that what I did? “If my heart led me into folly, I would gladly make whatever amends I can to Lord Karstark and yourself.”
Lord Rickard’s face was implacable. “Will your amends warm Torrhen and Eddard in the cold graves where the Kingslayer laid them?” He shouldered between the Greatjon and Maege Mormont and left the hall.
Robb made no move to detain him. “Forgive him, Mother.”
“If you will forgive me.”
“I have. I know what it is to love so greatly you can think of nothing else.”
Catelyn bowed her head. “Thank you.” I have not lost this child, at least.
So we know that what is going on here is that Robb is buttering Cat up before breaking the news of his marriage to Jeyne to her. One of the possible interpretations supported by the text is that Jeyne is in love with Robb and Robb is not in love with her. It’s a common reading that he married her out of honor and to avoid a possible Jon Snow situation. During their marriage, he seems to grow fond of her - Cat notices he likes her company better, and her brother’s, and that he laughs when he is with the Westerlings - but he also keeps some distance. She’s afraid of Grey Wind, which pretty much means being afraid of a part of him. In turn, he’s attentive, courteous, and a bit touched and annoyed at her public displays of affection.
Then there is this gem:
“His heir failed him.” Robb ran a hand over the rough weathered stone. “I had hoped to leave Jeyne with child … we tried often enough, but I’m not certain…”
And this is more Damien’s not-meta than my own, but once you see it, you can’t ever unsee it. Compare the bolded parts in that quote in the first Cat-Robb convo to the part bolded in the second one, put them side to side and tell me you can’t see the difference. In the first one, Robb basically spells it out that he’s made a mistake out of love, that love turned him into a fool, but it was stronger than him. At that point of the narrative, Robb’s biggest mistake (and notably it was HIS mistale, it was not a case of the narrative screwing him over) was to free Theon. A mistake that caused him to lose his brothers, castle and a significant chunk of political standing. The consequences of marrying Jeyne, which is pretty much only to lose the Freys, don’t even compare - especially because the Stark faction believes they can win their support back.
And this love that made him act like a fool is further described in the second bolded part of that quote. He loved so greatly that he could think of nothing else. That is some passion there, folks. Even considering that he’s trying to get Cat on his side, it strikes me as so sincere and heartfelt. And again, maybe it’s my own biases showing, but that sounds like an all-consuming love, the kind of love that doesn’t go away easily. I don’t see that same depth of emotion on the second bolded quote… they tried often enough. Does it add up with the first part? I don’t think so.
My conclusion, and forgive me if the shipper gogles come in, is that the love that hurt him, that consumed him, is the love he had for Theon. Not for his wife. But it was in the past, one might say. His marriage was just beginning, he and Jeyne grow closer, etc. I’ll quote two more bits:
“I cannot speak to that. There is much confusion in any war. Many false reports. All I can tell you is that my nephews claim it was this bastard son of Bolton’s who saved the women of Winterfell, and the little ones. They are safe at the Dreadfort now, all those who remain.”
“Theon,” Robb said suddenly. “What happened to Theon Greyjoy? Was he slain?”
Here we are nearing the Red Wedding. Some Freys come to pretend to make peace and pressure for a wedding to Edmure and they bring news of the battle of Winterfell. Professional writers don’t often abuse the “suddenly” like us poor fic writers, so when he says it was sudden, i believe it was sudden. I believe it came out of nowhere, in fact, and that Robb was the only one in that room considering Theon’s fate.
Roose Bolton removed a ragged strip of leather from the pouch at his belt. “My son sent this with his letter.”
Ser Wendel turned his fat face away. Robin Flint and Smalljon Umber exchanged a look, and the Greatjon snorted like a bull. “Is that … skin?” said Robb.
“The skin from the little finger of Theon Greyjoy’s left hand. My son is cruel, I confess it. And yet … what is a little skin, against the lives of two young princes? You were their mother, my lady. May I offer you this … small token of revenge?“ 
Part of Catelyn wanted to clutch the grisly trophy to her heart, but she made herself resist. “Put it away. Please.”
“Flaying Theon will not bring my brothers back,” Robb said. “I want his head, not his skin.”
Aside from Catelyn, who is torn, and maybe the Greatjon (I don’t know what snorting like a bull is supposed to convey), no one in that room approves of torturing Theon, they’re all rightly creeped out. But no one would blink an eye if Robb had ordered Theon flayed alive. Instead, he commands the torture to stop. Of course it’s the only decent thing to do, but let’s all appreciate how the character who is always arguing for peace, end of conflict and letting things go for the sake of the living and what can still be saved instead of more violence, is tempted by it. Robb is the only one who shares the full extent of Cat’s grief here, but he’s also the only one to try and stop the senseless punishment.
I joke all the time about how Throbb is canon, and it’s mostly jokes. They are not canon in the sense that Cat and Ned are canon, and I don’t think we’ll have any more facts added to their story together, there probably won’t be any flashbacks that hint at a romantic relationship between them. But looking at the text alone, what we have of it as of now, it’s possible to support a canonical reading for this ship. This interpretation is there in the text if you want to see it. In fact, some things make more sense if Robb was in love with Theon.
And you know, having a ship be supported by canon is not actually a condition that needs to be met to ship anything. It’s just something I particularly need to get into it. But even if you read Theon and Robb as just friends, it’s a reach to say that Robb didn’t love Theon.
Of course, we have Robb demonstrating affection towards Jon in the books too. He is Robb’s chosen heir, to Cat’s despair. Despite all the negative propaganda bastards get and the fact that the mother he so respected and loved disliked and distrusted Jon, Robb considers him a full brother, to compare to Sansa’s constant “half-brother” from the beginning of her journey. They’re seen having a good time together (they have a horse race in their very first appearance in the books, and Mance recalls them getting into trouble together as children), so they enjoy each other’s company.
Yet there’s also an undercurrent of sibling rivalry between them, seen from Jon’s pov. We have this bit with Benjen:
Benjen gave Jon a careful, measuring look. “You don’t miss much, do you, Jon? We could use a man like you on the Wall.”
Jon swelled with pride. “Robb is a stronger lance than I am, but I’m the better sword, and Hullen says I sit a horse as well as anyone in the castle.”
This is hilarious to me. My uncle paid me a compliment for being perceptive, a skill not at all related to martial skills! Time to compare my martial skills to my brother’s, even though we’re both 14 and there’s lots of more tried warriors in the world and we haven’t even had our last growh spurt! This is sure to impress a seasoned ranger!
Of course we know Jon’s rivalry towards Robb comes from his bastard status, but it’s interesting to me that it’s something that centers around Robb alone; he doesn’t compare himself to Bran or Rickon as far as I remember. That can be explained by their very similar ages and growing up together, I think. Jon has the advantage of being older than his other true born brothers.
Jon also says this:
Bastard children were born from lust and lies, men said; their nature was wanton and treacherous. Once Jon had meant to prove them wrong, to show his lord father that he could be as good and true a son as Robb. I made a botch of that. Robb had become a hero king; if Jon was remembered at all, it would be as a turncloak, an oathbreaker, and a murderer. He was glad that Lord Eddard was not alive to see his shame.
To Jon - and to the other Stark children - Robb is often the model to be emmulated. I won’t dig up all the times they hold him up as the ideal of bravery. Jon’s feelings are not unique in this sense, though they are when it comes to the rivalry. They all admire Robb. From Robb’s side, I don’t remember hints of him admiring Jon or any of his siblings. He certainly loves them, likes them, and enjoys spending time with Jon at the very least.
But Theon is the one Robb admires in text. Bran says it, and Theon too:
“There is nothing small about the letter I bear,” Theon said, “and the offer he makes is one I suggested to him.”
“This wolf king heeds your counsel, does he?” The notion seemed to amuse Lord Balon.
“He heeds me, yes. I’ve hunted with him, trained with him, shared meat and mead with him, warred at his side. I have earned his trust. He looks on me as an older brother, he—”
Readers often dismiss this as Theon’s garden variety empty bragging. To be fair, Theon very much distorts reality in his head to fit his own idea of how things should be, but this is one of the few times when he’s not doing that. He’s genuinely proud that Robb thinks so well of him. And since he’s so sensitive about what people think of him and people not giving him the credit he thinks he deserves, I’m ready to believe his account of facts this one time.
What I get from canon, regarding who Robb loves the most out of Jon and Theon, is that he loves them differently. He might even love Jon more by ASOS; it’s a wonder that we have hints that he still cares about Theon at all by the end, after the murders of who we know are the miller boys, but who Robb thinks are Bran and Rickon.
He had different relationships with them. Even if you reject the reading of Throbb as romantic, friends and siblings are not interchangable, even if you’re out there calling close friends brothers or if your brother is your best friend. It’s different sorts of affection. At the beginning of the series, Robb and Theon seemed closer to me than Robb and Jon - let’s not forget that Jon’s favorite is Arya, and the biggest family drama at that time has to do with Jon and Cat. They grow even closer as they go to war together, and then they’re pushed apart by circumstances and by Theon’s actions.
But okay, this is not long enough yet, so let’s say that this is an invalid framework of analysis and Martin’s word of god has as much weight as canon, and that in fact, we’re 100% certain that Robb loved Jon more than Theon.
Why does it even need to be a competition? No one holds it against Ygritte that Jon loves Arya more. Asha has a steady boyfriend that she’d gladly marry, and still she takes risk after risk for Theon. Ned was probably the greatest love of Cat’s life, but her interactions with her brother and uncle are still emotional and moving in great part because of the depth of her love for them.
Robb loving Jon more doesn’t take anything away from Theon. He doesn’t love Theon less because he loves Jon more, love is not a finite resource. And Robb loved Theon plenty, be it in a familial, friends or romantic way. If it diminished, that was a result of Theon’s choices alone.
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hero-imagines · 5 years
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diligence | pietro maximoff
prompt: “last time i failed you. i won’t do that ever again.”
genre: angst and fluff?
word count: 1.82k  
a/n: thanks sierra ( @imaginesassemble ) for requesting,  ily ! my requests are open if you guys want to shoot me an ask, you can use this prompt list if you want !
Pietro Maximoff had the habit of blaming himself whenever things went wrong, and this time it was no exception. It was supposed to be a routine mission, a recon one in fact, no one was supposed to get hurt. Yet, he somehow he found himself here, in the hospital bay gripping onto your hand as if his life depended on it. He had always been the reckless one and it wasn’t characteristic of you to take risks like that, in fact, between the two of you he was the one always speeding into danger—quite literally. It was quite ironic, after all you were the one who was always scolding him about slowing down, about thinking before he did something and yet—you were the one lying in this hospital bed, and not him.
Everything happened so fast, even for him, one minute you were standing next to him and the next you were throwing everything you had at the villains. Steve had given clear instructions to the both of you before everything even started, that violence was the last resort, but clearly things had gone south before the two of you even had the chance to even implement that plan. They all came out of nowhere, savages stranded on a deserted island alone, knowing almost nothing about the outside world. It was as if they have been trained to do nothing but kill, for as soon as they spotted you they pounced. They were barely human, sure their faces resembled those of your species, but they way they moved, attacked, growled, was completely animalistic.
You had reminded him before everything started that your main priority was the information, nothing else mattered except getting this information back and out to Steve. And of course, he had joked with you that it wasn’t that serious, and that this mission would be a piece of cake. But, Pietro has always been naive. At first you even protested with Steve that you would never be willing to be paired with someone like Pietro, someone that was reckless and impatient—because in battle, his ass was more of a liability than an asset. At first, Steve gave you the whole speech about him and Wanda being young and kind of inexperienced with the way that the Avengers do things, and after giving Steve a look is where he finally confessed the truth. Everyone else was kind of doing their own thing, so that left only the two of you. He also admitted that the two of you kind of blended together well, that you balanced each other out—Pietro was reckless and practically a loose canon, while you were strategic and patient. You were practically perfect for each other, yet there was an abundance of things that you absolutely despised about the speedster. However, you could boil your hatred down to three main aspects, the first being that this man had no filter, and would say anything that came to mind without a second thought—more often than not, causing situations to escalate faster than they should have. The second is that he is a major flirt, hitting on everyone and anything that comes within a three foot radius, causing you to conclude that his mouth often got him in trouble. But this last reason was the perhaps the biggest reason why you cannot stand to be in his presence—and you question yourself everyday, wondering why you found his face so goddamn attractive.
He was an asshole, a complete jerk and yet there was something about him that made you want to take his handsome face and smash your lips onto his. And sometimes it was as if he knew the effect that he had on you, and that’s when that smug smirk would appear. There were so many times that you wanted to smack the coy smile right off his face, and every time he was looking at you with that expression—oh did it make your blood boil. And it seems that he has made it his mission to annoy the crap out of you, purposely infuriating you in order to create amusement for himself. Despite all of these factors, there were so many instances that made you want to kiss him and to feel his body pressed against you with your hands roaming all over him. But at least you had enough decency—enough self control to refrain yourself from making poor choices, unlike him.
“So, princess, me and you together and alone on a remote island,” Pietro began, his accent curling sweetly around his words.
“Great, how romantic,” you merely scoffed, grabbing the papers of intels off the table and walking briskly away from him, attempting to put as much distance between him as you could. Of course this tactic was useless because of his ability. In an instant he had caught up to you, his stride equal, if not faster than your own.
“Come on, spending quality time together with me is not as bad as you're making it sound. I'm a joy to be around,” he argued, wrapping a tentative arm around your shoulder. As quickly as he placed his arm there, it was immediately shrugged off, a scowl overtaking your features. You stopped abruptly, turning to meet his eyes, taking note of that flirtatious glint in his eyes and sparkle in his smile before turning around.
“Trust me, Maximoff, I could think of a thousand ways that I would rather spend my time.”
Pietro could remember the exact instant that it happened, and it was all his fault, he turned his back for one second and suddenly you were down. It all happened so fast, and damn he should have been there to stop it—he was useless, utterly useless. He had powers for crying out loud, ones that made him practically the fastest thing on the planet and sure as hell faster than those freaks of nature, and yet he was helpless. And there was so much blood, and in that time it took him a fraction of a second to disarm the rest of those beasts before scooping you into his arms, as well as the files of information, before speeding off to the ship.
He could swear he has never sounded more frantic than he did in that moment, calling Steve, Nat, and his sister,  rambling about how everything had gone wrong and that you were bleeding out on the floor of the ship. They attempted to calm him down, talk him through everything in order to keep you stable until the ship arrived back in New York. He did his best, but he was no doctor, and there was just so much blood. For the first time in his life, he would admit that he was scared. Despite his best efforts, there was a chance that you were going to die on this ship, and the worst part (which was perhaps even greater than his guilt of not stopping the attack) was the fact that he hasn't confessed to you yet.
Pietro's feelings for you were a newfound emotion for him, and never once in his life has he ever felt this strongly for someone. You seemed to defy all forms of logic for him, taking everything that he has learned about love and shattering it in an instant. Sure, he has had his run-in with his share of lovers, flirtation was one of his best skills and he took pride that he could seduce anyone in a matter of days. But with you, everything was different. He had to admit that you were absolutely breathtaking as soon as he first saw you, and he knew that he needed to have you. And so, he pulled out all the tricks. Yet, he was absolutely flabbergasted upon realizing that you were immune to his charms, and instead of worshipping the ground that he walked on, you merely scoffed and turned away.
Oh boy, did you surely give Pietro a run for his money.
Instead of becoming deterred by your actions, like he would normally if a person rejected his advances, but you intrigued him and he was desperate for more. So he fought through the frowns, glares and somewhere along the way, the lines between flirtation and love began to blur—and before he knew what as happening, he found himself on the opposite side of where he started. He was falling faster than ever before, and only until now did he actually realize that he was in way too deep. But now he  began to realize that maybe it wasn’t such a bad thing. Yet, it was as if everything was now crashing down on him.
By some miracle, he managed to get you to the medical bay stable, before he was thrusted out of the room by Steve and Nat who wanted a complete debriefing of the mission as soon as possible. Leaving him to sit in a room, bouncing his leg as they asked him a series of questions. Sensing his agitation, Nat and Steve let him go, where he promptly zoomed off back to the medical ward, before finding him in his current state—sitting by your bedside, gripping onto your hand as if his life depended on it. The doctors had managed to stabilize you, attending to the large wound on your abdomen and replacing the blood and fluids that you lost. And for that, Pietro was thankful to have this second chance.
“You know, I never thought that being clingy would be your type of thing, Maximoff,” your voice was raspy and hoarse, but nevertheless it was your voice. He couldn’t begin to describe the immense relief that he felt when he heard your voice, and before he could stop himself, he reached forward and wrapped his arms around your shoulder—his mouth spilling out apologies. This was a side of Pietro you have never seen and you would be lying if you said you didn’t enjoy the attention. “Calm down, I’m still here, right?”
The softness of your voice seemed to calm him down a bit, but his arms still remained wrapped around your torso. It was odd to say the least, but your heart beating a thousand miles a minute was proof that you were not dreaming. He didn’t say much after that, and quite honestly you were sure that he fell asleep, but the slight whisper you heard next proved you wrong.
“Last time I failed you., I won’t do that ever again. I can’t end up seeing you like this again, and I would be damned if you died before I got to tell you how I feel,” he paused for a second, before shaking his head slightly, “and I already know you will haunt my ass till the end of time if I let that happen.”
And instead of responding, you merely squeezed his hand comfortingly, as the soft pleasure of sleep overtook you.
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streetsofsecrets-a · 4 years
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TW: the n-word - both forms of it, a general discussion of explicit historical racism, and domestic abuse.
--Bedford Stuyvesant, 1961.
    Grandaddy had rings, but she was not given the privilege to do anything except look on. Now once upon a time, great admiration was tied to her wistful gazes. However since Ms. Bedel moved in, those days came to an end.
    Now Ms. Bedel had a name, which was “Lucille Tallulah Masters-Bedel.” Delores did not know how a person could have two last names but apparently, Bedel was the last name of her dead husband. How could she bring herself to reside with a new man when love was supposed to last forever? Delores did not know - and was not allowed to ask, for that matter.
     In fact Delores Littlejohn, a young girl of seven, was prohibited from pushing out her lips and daring to sound out Lu, because the hand of this old woman would come flying before she could say cille. Not her mother, and not ever going to be her mother, this adult insisted she be called Ms. Bedel. If the youth desired to be more casual there was always, “ma’am” that could be said in place. Now, being a quiet, obedient (and as her grandfather would sometimes put it, “simple”) little thing, Delores never thought of doing anything other than what was said.
      Any other young girl would see Ms. Bedel as a fat haggard woman set in her ways, but Delores honestly thought there were no flaws in Grandaddy’s lover. If there were, she certainly could not detect them. Appreciation factored into this child’s blind ignorance, because after all: Ms. Bedel was the one who bathed her at the end of each day, detangled her hair, fixed she and her Grandaddy dinner, ensured she wore “baby doll” dresses, and eventually, Delores had the honor of being among her jewelry. 
    It was absolutely exciting to watch thick fingers pull out a wooden key and insert it into the jewelry’s box slot for the first time. Then, with a turn, it was opened and treasures were right before her eyes.
     If somebody said, “don’t do that,” Delores would not engage in whatever was before her. If somebody said, “don’t speak,” Delores would never open her mouth. Thus to be enabled - to have rings and necklaces and earrings capable of touching and tracing with her fingertips - filled her little body with utmost delight. She knew she was privileged and she would use every ounce of it. Also while basking in this privilege, Delores would realize there existed differences between a man’s ring and a woman’s.
     Granddaddy’s rings were thick accessories of solid colors: more often than not the dimmest shades of silver and gold. So dull it was almost if they were old decorations that lost what could once make them shine. There were a few bumps - prongs, and frankly they just looked downright sad in contrast to Ms. Bedel’s prized possessions that shined. That shimmered. 
    Her earrings dangled, shaped from gold. Her rings had what she thinks are authentic, real diamonds protruding in the center. And her necklaces? They were full of the beautiful little rocks, as well.
    “Where do these come from?” Delores would ask.
    “Child, everything you see before you has a story.”
     “During the Harlem Renaissance, I held a man named Aliki Eliopoulos in the palm of my hand. He was bronze, Greek, and thought we could make it through the odds. Hmpfh. He was unaware that I had no intentions with him. One night, he found me after the curtain closed and he presented this. This necklace is dear to me…I suppose because I never quite knew where Aliki went.”
      Ms. Bedel missed the discomfort worn on the child’s face, too caught in her own reflections. Really, what Delores desired to hear were the literal tales of the source where all that glittered came from, and furthermore she had wondered who was skilled enough to make such beautiful things. 
    “This engagement ring - not a wedding ring - engagement, was given to me by my first husband. To accept it would mean I would make a vow to remain pure for him. He knew of my past, and knew that even if I couldn’t right my wrongs, I could try to start over in his name. I think he had that idea because he was Catholic - hmfph. I don’t believe in true love. I’m a jaded woman…Delores.” Ms. Bedel did not say her name to end the statement, she was calling to her. Sharply, at that.
     “Ma’am?”
     “Don’t follow in my footsteps.”
      Feeling the intensity of her gaze, Delores found herself disliking this conversation. Purposely, she shies away from talk of vows and purity, focusing on the piled riches. Noticing the green-centered ring that lays amongst gold and rubies. The longer Delores stared into it, the more she began to notice lighter streaks struck out. “Like thunder n’ lightening,” she thought before wondering -
      “Ms. Bedel, where did that ring come from?”
     “This -” she lifts it, studies it almost as if it was an artifact. Indeterminable. “This belonged to my mother.”
      “Did her husband give it to her, too?”
      “My mother was never married.” With that unpleasant remark came a pause that Delores felt lasted forever, however Ms. Bedel spoke again: clear and without strain, “she emerged from a place in Mississippi so unimportant that it can’t even be defined by a name.” Delores felt bad for asking, it sounded as though Ms. Bedel did not care for her mother let alone Mississippi. “Do you know what slave labor is?”
       At the height of her discomfort, Delores nodded. When she was but the age of five her granddaddy decided it was time she learn how Africans, not even colored people, Africans were chained like dogs and brought to America. After that, they were bound to pick cotton all day long in the sun. That was slave labor, her mind decided.
      “After I was born, my mother didn’t want to stay in No Mans, Mississippi, and took me with her as she journeyed North. Of course, being a colored woman, she didn’t have the luxury of driving or having a fortune to get her there in an instant. Hmpfh. So she worked as a maid here and there until she reached New York. And there was one white woman she worked for that was just downright nasty.” The word gets pronounced like a snarl, and her gaze is particularly intense. “She…that woman sat so high on her horse, that she had my mother feeding her baby through her teat.”
     Delores’ face scrunched: not understanding what was said to her just the right amount to be puzzled - yet understanding just enough to be both bewildered and uncomfortable. “From time to time my mother would take little things from the house. Sugar, flour. But before we left Kentucky and never looked back, she deserved something more in return, and this was it. And after my mother passed on, this has been with me ever since…” Suddenly Ms. Bedel takes to a soft and tender tone, “try it on.”
      Not only soothed by a preferable tone, Delores was elated. Felt like she was ascending to new heights: practically skipping from seven years old to seven in a half!
     “Oh…” Ms. Bedel’s thick lips push out with sympathy, onyx eyes hold traces of adoration. “It’s too big for you…” Looking at how the ring hang heavy on her index was a pitiful sight in itself - for Ms. Bedel to point out the obvious causes Delores’ joy to further deflate.
     “My fingers are too little…” Delores feels like a baby, a fresh six at best.
     “Maybe..” Ms. Bedel takes the child’s hand into her own, covering it in love. “One day you’ll grow into it.”
                                                                      -------
     If Ms. Reed was kind, then Ms. Bedel should have been thought of as a saint. Because unlike many of her classmates, Delores was not fond of her teacher. At all. 
     She could not explain why even if she wanted to, just knowing her educator maintained a bit of an indifferent air when it came to her. Ms. Bedel could have this similar demeanor, Ms. Bedel could even holler at her: but underneath each treatment, Delores sensed that love was there. Delores was sure Ms. Bedel would forever and always be someone as special as Granddaddy - after all, it was through her that Delores learned of a love that existed for all that shined.
     There began to come occurrences when after taking the hot-comb to her hair, Ms. Bedel would take one of the necklaces and fasten it around her little neck. Granddaddy would sneer, stating she was making Didi into a fast-tail girl and, Winston would agree once he moved in. Although Winston and Granddaddy were separated by generations, their “masculinity” gave their stance a high sort of power. If Granddaddy thought she was fast, if Winston thought she was fast, then it was so. And with that official, not even a ring could slide on her little finger.
      Delores did not like change, but it did not mean she disliked her cousin. Still, she was not joyous to have her cousin residing under the same roof as her, either. Previously she caught wind of how adults would make statements of being “lonesome” when you’re the sole child of the household, but Delores thought she could never be lonely: not when she had Granddaddy. Not only that, but from time to time she heard how lucky she was to be an only child because had she had siblings, certain things would not have been purchased. Instead, sacrifices would have had to be made, as Granddaddy said himself.
      And how sacrifices came with Winston’s presence.
     He slept on the couch while Delores kept her room. But breakfast was smaller. Lunch and dinner too. She had to be tolerant, patient, when her cousin sat by her side and bastardized the personalities of her beloved dolls. His rough housing even lead to the tearing of Marilyn! And even though tears fell on her pillow that night - by sunrise, she forgave him.
      One of the most noticeable changes were in how Ms. Bedel seldom spoke to her anymore. Oh, never did the adult say don’t talk to me, Delores simply acknowledged the body language. The expressions. With that she concluded she was not wanted around, unaware of the hostile conversations that took place between the adults of the household. Still, considering all the changes that had occurred under this roof, Delores gradually reached the conclusion the last time she had been happy was when she could admire diamonds right from the palm of her hand. It felt good to not only having Ms. Bedel in a warmer state, but it made up for the struggles school would inflict on her.
      Some days were better than others, but this day was particularly awful. Having outright been backhanded by Lenora during Duck, Duck, Goose, Delores had returned home with low spirits. In the beginning, among the other children in glee, she could feel the tension build. Each moment was a thrill - no one knew who the Goose would be - but there was nothing playful, or thrilling, about Lenora’s hand suddenly flinging into her face. Not head, face.
      Five fingers left a powerful sting and even a faint mark that would cause her to avert her eyes and shrug when adults asked about it’s origins. Yes, Delores understood it was a part of the game, but given how Lenora usually treated her, she doubted this was a mistake. Still, she did not say anything. She did not even cry - not really. Instead after getting settled, Delores shyly - oh so shyly, approached Ms. Bedel as she laid down a bowl of steaming soup for Winston. Having been ill, he did not go to school that day.
      “Ms. Bedel,” she began meek and soft, “can I see your diamonds?“
       The look that came on Ms. Bedel’s face looked as though she could just retch. But ignorant, Delores did not know how her crime in asking this was in how Winston was among her. Naive, she was not even aware how Winston’s eye size doubled at the sound of, “diamonds.” And clueless, Delores did not know how Ms. Bedel, if anything, saw Amos’ grandson as a troublemaker. One of those boys you had to warn about your additional pair of eyes that saw all. “Yes.” Ms. Bedel comes to answer with a struggle, “yes you may. But put everything back as found. Do you hear me? Everything."
      “Yes Ms. Bedel.” And with that, Delores was on her way.
      It was in fact a mistake for Ms. Bedel to even allow this because jewelry box in arms, she moved herself to her own bedroom and shut the door. Alone and secluded, Delores would find that rings and necklaces would detract from her bruise. She couldn’t wait until she had her own to possess when womanhood finally approached, as she concludes that everyday would be spent in happiness. And when she took everything back as told, Delores really did believe every diamond, earring, and necklace was where it needed to be.
     “Ever since you took that boy in he’s been nothin’ but trouble! He wasn’t even sick on Tuesday, he was connin’ your ass!”
     “I didn’t know you was a doctor, thought you just played one once!”
      “I was with him that entire day! I could see him running and jumping and actin’ a fool! Maybe if you weren’t trying to run the street with your old ass-”
      “Woman! Y’don’t know a GATDAM thing you talkin ‘bout!”
       This was not an argument that could be ignored. It was clear as the siren of a distant ambulance: both children could hear as it echoed through the walls and it summoned them both to sit - well, in Winston’s case, crouch - outside the elder’s bedroom. Would Delores say Winston was trouble? Although he tore Marilyn that one time - no, not really. The passing of days would have her find the perks in having him around.
       “Look - damn you Amos, look! My ring is gone!! I know that lil’ nigger took it and he probably sold it to some - some hustler!” Oh. “You should have seen him - the way he was looking when Didi mentioned I had diamonds. I could just about read his mind!” With each infuriated word, Delores finds herself unable to stop quivering. Her heart’s bumps are even audible against her ears. This, she knows, was not Winston’s fault at all.
      “He’s a boy, who he gon’ sell it to? He prolly done gave it to some lil’ girl!”
       “Amos! Why are you defending that little nigger?!”
       For Delores, the sound of skin hitting skin was horrific. However, it was not a new sound for Winston. In contrast to his gaped mouth, she cringed as if she saw the impact of Granddaddy’s hand, and as she notices how Winston stretches his legs and places his palm against the door knob she whines low, but nonetheless frightful, “Winny, no!” As he ignored her, Delores decided that if Winston would get himself in trouble for getting in grown folk’s business, she wanted no part in it. So she did not peek, consequently sparing herself from the sight of her grumpy and nonchalant grandfather in a different state far different than what she was accustomed to.
     He had one fist raised and another fist clutching at hair. “Y’goddamn bitch.” He sneered,
      “y’ain’t gonna keep standing here and keep callin’ my grandson outta his name. Bitch, y’got one more time t’do that-” His fist shook. Though he was old, he was strong. “And I’ma drag you outta here like this.” Her clothes could be flung out the window for all he cared, “keep on talkin’ about some itty bitty ring. Keep on.”
       “I hate you.” When Ms. Bedel weeps, Delores feels her heart break. “You old son of a bitch, I don’t have to be with you. I don’t have to live here. I accepted your granddaughter, willingly, but you put that grandson on me. I’m too damn old to be going through burdens like you -” never did Delores consider herself to be a burden, however she also failed to think of the struggles old people went through beside the occasional bad knees. “I don’t even have to be with your tragic ass.” She hocked, she spat on his cheek, “get up offa me, nigga.”
      Now Delores was prompted to peer in, right as her caretakers aren’t body to body. Free, Ms. Bedel is moving faster than Delores has ever seen her. Apathetic and rough, she tosses the jewelry box on the bed, grasps at coats, blouses, and furs. “Where you goin’?!”
     “Wouldn’t you like to know?! Wouldn’t you like to know?!”
       Don’t go… Delores bites at her bottom lip. Don’t go. She did not know where the ring of Ms. Bedel’s mother was. Truly, she thought it was safe in the box where it needed to be. Although admiring it more than anything, she would have never thought of stealing from a woman she respected. Why - if she had the chance, if she had not been frozen where she sat, Delores would find the ring. She would search the apartment up and down and present the item to her.
       “Move, move!” She feels Winston grasp her shoulders as heavy feet stomped their way. Delores did not recognize what was going on, only rising because she knew in these moments that it was right, and to her bedroom they moved like mice: diving on Delores’ wooden floor. Whether Ms. Bedel saw or not was obvious to anyone other than them.
       “When y’find that damn thing-” Granddaddy followed her, not caring about the wide eyes of children. “You can’t never come back here. Never!”
       “I don’t plan on it, Amos!” She slammed the door - and only looked back for her fine china. 
       After that, Ms. Bedel never thought of the Littlejohn family again.
       For days, this memory would sting all three of them. Something they could not replay in their minds because it was too harsh. Delores felt bad for her cousin. He was called one of the ugliest words in the world, twice. Not only that, but he was reduced to a thief and it was all because of her own, “carelessness.” And Winston, forever denying to his irked and cynical guardian that he ever touched, let alone gazed at some old lady’s ring, would have to let his innocence be known countless times.  He was bold enough to ask if he had been a burden, though. Not like Delores, who was even too much of a coward to find out Granddaddy’s true feelings about her.
       As the months came and went, so did the severity of the emotional wounds of that day. Never would they forget the disaster, but they did not have to shoulder it with grit teeth. Though, one day, Delores would find something shiny below her bed. Like a calling, the light green streaks requested for her attention in an abyss of darkness. As she cupped it and brought it to light: that fateful day would hit her all over again. Silent, Delores would keep this ring. But not wear it.  Not even as seven became eleven. Or eleven became thirteen. Or thirteen became sixteen.
      Always, this ring was to be hidden. Forever her secret.
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