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cherryeol04 · 11 months

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Clean

➻ Pairings: Jisung x Reader

➻ Genre: slight!angst, romance

➻ Additional: comfort, hurt/comfort? (not sure if this qualifies)

➻ Word Count: 1K

➻ Warnings: implied mental health struggles

➻ Author’s notes: This story is cross posted on multiple sites under the same username!

You wanted nothing more than to just go to your room and hide from the world. Work had been crazy and you were so emotionally spent trying to have good customer service that you couldn’t honestly fake a smile much less give a rats ass about things happening at home. And on top of that, you were missing your boyfriend, who was out of town on a business trip.

So when you walked in and saw the kitchen a mess, the floors still dirty and no dinner cooking, you wanted to scream. Bless your mother, you loved her dearly but you hated the fact that she was working from home and still couldn’t keep up with housework while you went out everyday and worked in an office.

Granted, working from home was still a job, but it was only part time and she started in the afternoon. She had plenty of time to do some light cleaning and get the crockpot started for dinner before going to work. But she didn’t. She never did and normally it would only mildly irk you but today it just put you in a spiral. The tears were already welling up as you dragged your feet down the dark hallway to the back room, your lamp light shining underneath the door because you once more forgot to turn it off in your haste to leave the house that morning.

Salvation!

Opening the door, your head tipped down to watch as you dropped your bag next to your desk before kicking off your shoes, feet screaming in relief. Shuffling into the room, you pushed the door closed before lifting your head, eyes widening as you froze in place. Sitting on your bed was your boyfriend, Jisung, lounging back with the tv remote in one hand, the other behind his head, looking so at home. Which was strange because you purposefully kept him from visiting your house due to its state. You were embarrassed by it and didn’t want him to come over and think that you and your family were slobs.

Well you and your mom weren’t. The idiot that lived with you was and he refused to clean up after himself, despite being the one that caused the most mess. And of course the constant mess was hard for your mother to deal with mentally and you were pretty sure she was in a depressive sort of state and you sure as hell didn’t want to clean when you got home from work. Even though you usually did because no one else was gonna do it. But juggling work life and this life was just as taxing and on some days you just said “fuck it” and let it be. And now here he was, in your house - in your bed, as if he lived there.

God, you could only imagine what he must have thought about you and the house. Horrible things. You wouldn’t be surprised if he ended up breaking up with you over this. That thought alone was enough to have you sobbing.

“Babe?”

It was stupid to think he hadn’t seen you. Your room wasn’t all that big and the door made ample enough noise to alert anyone that someone had entered. But somehow your brain was trying to convince you that you still had a chance to leave up until that point and now it was ruined. “Baby, come here.” Through your tears you could see Jisung sitting up straight, arms outstretched towards you. Your feet moved on their own and in a few short steps you crossed the room to your bed and climbed on. You made yourself comfortable in Jisung’s lap as he wrapped his arms around you tightly. Your sense were flooded with the musky scent that was your boyfriend, so potent that you wouldn’t be surprised if he had just recently sprayed himself with his cologne.

It was warm and comforting and after nearly a month apart, you were so glad to be back in his arms, but not at this cost. Not with him coming to your place like this. Any times prior he had simply dropped something off or had come to pick you up for a date. You never had invited him and now here he was, exposed to your shame. You felt so horrible - so disgusting and worthless.

“Y/n,” he called gently, fingers running through your hair. You refused to look at him, shaking your head as your buried your face further into his chest. He chuckled and leaned back against the headboard. “Love, please stop crying. You’re gonna make me cry.” He whispered. “And then we’ll both be a crying mess and I don’t even know why we’re crying!” You giggled at his exasperation, but the momentary giddiness was short lived. Eventually you pulled back, sniffling as you stared at him with your red rimmed eyes.

“Baby.” He whispered once more, thumbs wiping your tears away gently as he cupped your cheeks. “What’s wrong?”

“I-I didn’t want you to see this place.” You struggled to get out, choking back on your sobs. “I’m so ashamed.”

The confusion was evident in his eyes, but you didn’t have the capacity to explain. Because if you explained it made the situation even more real and you weren’t sure you could take anymore stress and sadness than what you were already feeling. “What are you ashamed of? Your house is lovely.”

Lies!

You shook your head vehemently. “It’s not! It’s gross and disgusting and I’m disgusting and-“ You actually did choke this time, coughing harshly. “I never wanted you to see this.”

You expected Jisung to mock you or even lie to your face more. Something other than pulling you back into his arms and rocking you gently. “There is nothing to be ashamed of.” He assured you. You tried to protest and tell him that he was wrong, but he shushed you. “Nothing.” He reiterated, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. “I love you for you. Not how your house looks. Besides, we can clean together. It’ll be a great bonding experience.” He joked, trying to lighten the situation and it worked. You smiled and nodded, clutching at the front of his shirt.

“You promise?”

“Promise.”

You were silent for a moment, thinking his words over carefully before finally replying.

“I love you too.”

Tags: @sauceracha @jisungsjheekies @luminouskalopsia @hanjisungismybaby @imbonibi @jiwlys @leafsmindpalace @army-of-carats @peachmilkcloud @letterstoskz @lauraneuuh @babyskz @stay-here-dont-stray @meen1ez @slinekyu @feedthefandoms995 @schokoshaker @rejemi @ahhhhhhhhhghh @thsrndkd @halotopicecream @skzmonster @jumunnaa @serendipityryn @yayaistime @bxddiebang @sachifukyo @eastleighsblog @hydrawaterdragon @cyberpunksunwoo @3rachasninja @haileybugulug

( If you want to join the list, you can find the info here! Also I’m sorry for those listed in the tags but not getting tagged. For some reason tumblr can’t find your blog to tag. I’m hoping it figures it out soon like it did for others.)

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densewentz · 3 months

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health rant under cut bc I'm exhausted

so my neurologist and i had a lovely talk today at my follow up appointment where she informed me that a) she's leaving the practice this month and has no idea who's going to take over my case and b) that my ms numbness is probably going to be permanent since there's been no change whatsoever since I got out of the hospital so thats. great. And the fact that there's literally nothing I can do to combat the numbness doesn't haunt me at all.

And summer is just BARELY here and already the heat is literally crippling me guys like. I can't go outside for more than a half hour without getting so viciously fatigued and numbed over. My brain gets foggy and I can't think and it's not like I loved the heat before but goddamn. My entire right side from the tits down is just a void of either nothingness or a tourniquet

which, the goddamn MS hug shit. i swear any time i try to do an activity it feels like someone is putting my chest through a trash compactor and I end up feeling like i can't breathe. It makes it hard to do anything, which obviously is just straight up tanking my mental health. God forbid I have to walk somewhere even mildly warm because at this point that's basically my kryptonite.

At any rate I'm just trying to get by day to day but boy it is hard. And all I can think about is if all the stupid fucking doctors I saw months ago when I first went numb hadn't just looked at me and saw a fat hysterical woman then maybe they could have gotten me on the steroids right away back when only part of my torso was numb rather than my entire gd body from the bust down. If they'd done their job and not just written it off as anxiety for a month then I could have stopped the progression of the numbness and still be able to do something as simple as hold a fucking flip flop on my foot.

Good things are I have my ice pack and my new AC for my room so at least there's one place I'll be safe this summer. Gonna start working on art again and try to keep up with writing although godspeed to me because that executive dysfunction is coming for my ass lol

long story short, doctors are assholes and ms blows ✌ deuces

#health rant #personal #ms blows guys #dense rants #birth is a curse and existence is a prison

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rolotouto · 4 months

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More translations (June)

Translations and opinions, too.

・Rolo: I will (protect) Brother! Kallen: The one from that time at Babel Tower? ・V.V.: You were a failed product, you know? Rolo: I'm not a tool! I really like seeing Rolo defending himself before V.V.. For a 63 year old, V.V. sure doesn't have many intelligent things to say other than throwing the same insult over and over:

V.V.: Rolo was a failed product. For his life to be shortened whenever he uses his Geass... "defective" is putting it mildly. Well, guess he can be used for assassinations at least. Is it that Rolo's life was shortened each time he used his Geass, or that each time he used his Geass for too long he could die? Because, if it's the latter, then provided that he was careful, arguably using his Geass didn't affect his health long term, but if it's the former, Lelouch sure didn't mind making Rolo have to sacrifice his life span for trivial things like protecting him from girls during Turn 12... Opinion time: Even though I want to believe that Lelouch wouldn't actually knowingly allow Rolo to shorten his life span, as I'm convinced that he cared about Rolo during all that time he told himself that he hated him, I wish Rolo acknowledged that it was very cruel of Lelouch to manipulate his emotions, and that Rolo's only reference to how Lelouch hurt him wasn't just a vague 'Brother used me' (which is always quickly followed by 'but he made me human' so that the audience doesn't have to think much about how Lelouch did wrong). His Home or Trust lines in Lost Stories would have been the perfect place for Rolo to show us more of his point of view, but instead, as I complained last time, he sounds a little too repetitive with the 'Brother made me human' and 'I will protect Brother' lines. In the anime, because there's no time for more, proportionately Rolo gets much more focus, as in a few minutes he: -Rescues Lelouch against Lelouch's demands -Monologues out loud despite having no listeners -When Lelouch wants to know 'Why did you save me?', he makes Lelouch have to change that lamenting tone and join him in pretending that everything is okay by giving Lelouch an answer that Lelouch didn't expect Rolo is the one in control during those scenes, while Lelouch temporarily becomes a "secondary" (passive) character. And because we don't see what he was thinking between Lelouch yelling at him and him deciding to save Lelouch, it's possible to interpret that Rolo *was* in fact hurt and resentful that Lelouch never even attempted to give him (<-a child who had only known abuse throughout his life) that future he promised, and that Rolo giving up his life to save him was, partially, his own way of forcing Lelouch to always remember him (plus he also called Lelouch a liar, which, even though at first glance he only does to protect Lelouch from feeling guilt, could also be an accusation Rolo wanted to make and get off his chest). Lost Stories even depicted Rolo still asking Lelouch to keep his promise around Turn 16, but then we see Turn19!Rolo's thoughts and there's no hint of shock or anger after Lelouch reveals he was manipulating Rolo from the start? I think that is too selfless to the point where it becomes lack of self-respect... Well, back to the video: ・Rolo: I won't let them kill (Brother)! No matter what! Lelouch: Please stop! Do you want to die? Battle interaction between Turn5!Shirley and regular!Rolo (not Turn19!Rolo): ・Shirley: Hey, do you know where Lulu is? Rolo: You are going around wearing that...? ?! Why would someone like Rolo care what she wears... How does he even have a concept of what kind of clothing is appropriate or not?! Love his formal Japanese though. A different login bonus line: ・Rolo: Excuse me, did you see Brother? He left without me realizing it... And teacher Villetta was looking for him. Yet another Home line that I'd never seen before, but that he started using around a couple weeks ago (used by any of the 3 Rolos): ・Rolo: There are still things I don't understand (lit. "can't read") about you. I wonder if I'll end up understanding them if more time goes by. June line (any of the 3 Rolos): ・Rolo: Come to think of it, I have not ridden the motorcycle lately. It's probably the same for you, right? You know, seeing as it won't stop raining...

Yes!! Thank you for remembering Rolo's life contains more activities than just thinking about niisan!! I did not translate that as "my" motorcycle because I think he only ever drives Rivalz's and doesn't own one... Home line that isn't part of the in-game archive (Turn19!Rolo only): ・Rolo: This locket... It's okay if I keep it until the end, right...?

😢

#rolo lamperouge #rolo's own will #rolo of the rebellion #translation #lost stories #code geass r2 #code geass lost stories #v.v.#lelouch lamperouge #shirley fenette #kallen kouzuki

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igotbulletproof-insomnia · 10 months

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Time Lord X TXT

This is basically me imagining if Hueningkai as a Time Lord, with Taehyun, Beomgyu, Yeonjun, and Soobin as his companions. A bit of crack treated seriously, if you will. As such this is written more as a summary/retelling, kind of scene-by-scene. I might write more. I might not. We’ll see.

So, we start with Taehyun and a slightly older male; he looks to be in his late twenties or early thirties. The two of them enter what looks like a medbay, and Taehyun is panicking. His demeanor is calm, he’s asking questions and offering solutions, but his hands are shaking and his words are coated in a thin layer of defeat. The older man is dying, and Taehyun can’t save him. But the older man smiles, bittersweet, and comforts Taehyun. He gives a brief explanation of regeneration, reassuring his friend that he’ll be the same person, just different. And then his skin is glowing, his features are morphing, and he’s changing in front of Taehyun’s eyes.

Now, we meet Yeonjun. He’s checking his socials, sharing his latest Youtube upload. He’s a mildly successful influencer with a sizeable following, but he doesn’t make enough money to live off of the internet alone. Accounts updated, Yeonjun checks the kitchen for food. His cousin, Beomgyu lays across the sofa, also scrolling social media. He whines about a friend of his who hasn’t had much time for him this semester. They shared almost all of their classes together, but it seemed like he just couldn’t be bothered to spend his free time together. Yeonjun listens while checking the cabinet and fridge. They’re all empty save for some spices and a nearly expired bottle of gochujang. He checks his bank account to see a few dollars, enough to ramen for the next few days until his ad revenue arrives.

On his way to the convenience store, a kid falls onto him. He’s giant, an almost stocky build and just as tall as Yeonjun, but a baby face, so it’s hard to place his age. Yeonjun thinks it’s safe to assume they’re in the same age group. So the kid seems to have passed out, which is probably why he crashed into Yeonjun. Yeonjun tries to wake him up, but he’s unresponsive. Yeonjun doesn’t exactly have money to pay for a cab right now, so he puts the kid on his back, buys a few fever tablets and enough ramen to last him and his cousins for the night, and takes the kid home.

Yeonjun passes by Taehyun, returning from the local pharmacy with an assortment of flu medicines and fever reducers. He doesn't know what he’s doing, is just getting off the phone with his mother, but he’s determined to nurse his Time Lord friend, Kai, back to health. He’s feeling confident about this task until he approaches the TARDIS, parked around the corner from a convenience store, to find the door open. Running inside, Taehyun finds the medbay is empty. He asks the ship to run a scan, hoping Kai has just wandered off somewhere else inside. Unfortunately for him, he gets a CCTV replay of Kai wandering out of the TARDIS, dazed and feverish.

Back home, Yeonjun unceremoniously drops the kid he found off onto the sofa. It’s late afternoon, going into early evening, so he calls his Jin-hyung and asks if he needs another delivery boy for the night. He starts to boil water for his ramen and agrees to come into the restaurant within the next hour. Soobin comes home and asks about the kid on his sofa. Immediately, he takes responsibility for his health, grabbing a wet towel to keep on his forehead and an icepack from the freezer. He tries to coax him awake to drink water; the kid becomes aware enough to not choke, but he’s still half asleep and can’t answer any questions. Yeonjun takes the opportunity to ask Soobin to watch over the kid while he goes to work. They talk about finances and bills for a moment, just communicating so that they’re on the same page and no one takes on a responsibility someone else already claimed.

Here, we cut to Beomgyu leaving a cafe with his friend, Jimin. The two of them say their goodbyes before he sees Taehyun, looking frustrated and lost. Taehyun is out searching for Kai, following a seldom-used sonic tool the Time Lord doesn’t normally bother with. He’s trying to use the setting to find a non-human/non-earthling, and, well, it’s working too well, if not efficiently. So the two of them continue tracking down what amounts to every intelligent, non-human life form within a certain radius, and it keeps leading them to every alien except for Kai. It’s chaotic, but fun. It’s clear the two of them have missed spending time together.

Yeonjun has been running deliveries for a while now. He drops an order off with a gruff looking man and picks up the returned dishes from the floor in front of the apartment door. In the process, he finds what looks like a small stuffed toy with a keyring around its wrist. He knocks on the door and asks the man inside if it belongs to him and receives a blank look in response. It was found between the dishes and the wall, so if the man won’t claim it, Yeonjun decides that he will. He grins at the cute trinket and attaches it to his own keyring, then clips the set to his belt. As he bikes off, the little bear seems to sigh with relief.

Taehyun and Beomgyu keep up their search for another hour or two. It’s getting darker and the aliens they’re running into are beginning to seem more and more threatening. They call it quits just when they run into a small group of aliens discussing a hostage and ransom situation they’ve set up, and how some human has gone and helped the being escape. The aliens are big, burly, humanoid and pissed, planning to sell said human on an intergalactic black market for interfering. Taehyun believes this is the lead they need to continue chasing, Kai’s name is written all over this scheme. However, it’s late and Beomgyu insists they go home to sleep. He’s tired and it won’t be easy to keep their wits if they’re falling asleep on themselves, even the aliens are retiring for the night. Reluctantly, Taehyun agrees, only because he interrupts his own argument with a yawn.

At home, the kid on the sofa is still asleep. Beomgyu startles at the sight, but ultimately shrugs off his hyungs’ antics. He checks his messages as he prepares for bed, and for once there’s a message from Taehyun, saying thanks for his help and setting a meeting time and place for their adventure in the morning. Beomgyu is giddy with the prospect of playing with his friend again in the morning. Yeonjun comes into the apartment soon after and checks on the kid, changing the cold towel on his forehead and exchanging the icepack under his back. Yeonjun shows off the little plush he found, and it’s noticeable to the audience that it’s posed differently from before. We get the sense that there is more to this little trinket than Yeonjun has picked up on, but before we can think too much more on that, we enter a new day. The keychain swings on Yeonjun’s belt once again, as he enters an older classmate’s studio.

Taehyung is a graduate fashion design student, but a senior undergrad for photography. Yeonjun often works as a model and “living doll” for this hyung when he has projects coming due, and today is no different. The two of them muse over some design sketches, and Yeonjun asks for feedback on his end-of-semester project. Yeonjun has a few outfit changes, modeling both “feminine” and “masculine” looks for Taehyung.

Meanwhile, Taehyun and Beomgyu meet at the apartment building where they overheard the suspicious conversation. Taehyun adjusts his tool to follow their biometric signature specifically. The aliens aren’t too far ahead, seeming to have just begun their day. In the daylight, their skin is a very pale orange, almost like someone with a weird tan, and their faces are reminiscent of a pug. Their clothes aren’t particularly strange, but seem almost pirate-like, the way the pants are baggy, the blouses billowy, and the jackets almost oversized. While they walk, Beomgyu asks Taehyun what happened to him over the past semester. They clearly still get along, and neither of them seem to hold any grudges, so why did they drift apart? Taehyun admits that he met a new friend, an alien who used a spaceship and time machine to take him on interesting adventures. Slowly, he just drifted away from his old friends and towards the alien. He stopped thinking about the few friends that he did have and gravitated towards his new friend. He didn’t realize he was hurting anyone when he pulled away. Beomgyu isn’t sure how to accept this explanation. On the one hand, it was all very exciting, so he understood Taehyun, but on the other hand… he was just told that he wasn’t supposed to care that Taehyun had all but disappeared from his life, that Taehyun didn’t find him interesting enough to keep his attention. The idea makes him want to punch his friend in his perfect nose, but before he can verbally express his frustration, Beomgyu realizes the aliens they followed seem to be zeroing in on one of the art buildings, the one Yeonjun is now exiting. Panicking, Beomgyu makes a split decision to distract the aliens from his cousin, drawing the attention to himself and Taehyun instead.

Chaos follows. Beomgyu is naturally loud and endearingly obnoxious, but he’s really making a nuisance of himself, the way he shouts insults and runs circles around the tan aliens. He tries to tackle one and whines about a bruise before running off, barely dodging a gold bangle and chain it tried to place on him. Yeonjun calls Beomgyu’s phone, warning him not to get himself killed playing too many games. Beomgyu claims he’s just acting for a videography student’s project. Taehyun laughs at the explanation and wonders why he didn’t just invite his best friend along on his adventures instead of avoiding him. The two of them manage to distract the aliens just long enough to lose sight of Yeonjun, which must have been Beomgyu’s plan all along, because when the aliens get bored and approach the fashion school, he lets them.

Yeonjun vlogs on his way home. He doesn’t do much, just records a conclusion to his day, having taken video of his time with Taehyung. He’s been recording the creation of his final project over the semester, hoping it might be a good video for the algorithm. His fashion and vlog videos seem to do pretty well. With the project on his mind, Yeonjun visits a fabric store to browse and maybe have some idea of what will be available when he’s ready to start. He attends an early afternoon class and bums lunch off of one of his friends. Across town, Yeonjun attends Hoseok’s dance class with Jungkook, another senior from school, and one of Taehyung’s photography classmates. All the while, the little bear doesn’t do a whole lot through the day, just peers curiously at the world around him, sneaks a bit of food from Yeonjun’s friends, and bounces along to the music during dance class.

Taehyun and Beomgyu feel like they’re running a wild goose chase across their corner of Seoul. The aliens don’t seem to have noticed their tail, but Taehyun is starting to feel a little hopeless. He should have been led to Kai by now, for sure. And yeah, this whole lost hostage situation feels like it’s worth his time, but what power does he have, really? He can’t accomplish anything without Kai. He doesn’t have the knowledge or the cleverness that his alien friend does when it comes to these sorts of things. When Taehyun expresses this, the two taking a small break for a late lunch of local street food, Beomgyu argues that he’s just not used to doing things on his own yet. He was clever enough to find a tool to track down non-humans, he knew enough to decide these aliens will lead him to Kai, so Taehyun will figure out how to save his friend when the time comes.

At the end of the day, Yeonjun returns home. Soobin has been taking care of the kid throughout the day and reports that there hasn’t been much of a change in his condition. The fever seems close to breaking, but he hasn’t woken for much more than a few sips of water every hour, and even then the kid barely makes the effort before passing out again. Yeonjun thanks his cousin and takes a shower. He checks social media again, uploads a few of the selfies he’s taken throughout the day, as well as a clip of the choreography he learned in class. He’s interacting with his followers when his front door bursts open and a trio of big, burly aliens snatch him up. They attach a cuff on his wrist and he goes stiff, unable to move. They find his keyset and retrieve the teddy bear trinket. One of them notices Kai and sniffs at him. “The Time Lord will bring us a hefty price too.”

When Taehyun and Beomgyu track our villains to the apartment building, Beomgyu is dismayed to see Yeonjun being dragged like a doll behind the big burly aliens, while Taehyun focuses on Kai, passed out in their arms. Beomgyu immediately runs inside to check on Soobin, worried he might have been caught in the crossfire of whatever happened in the apartment. Taehyun is torn between following Beomgyu into the apartment and rescuing Kai, but he still has no plan and feels better with Beomgyu by his side. He can always track down the aliens later, they have to be on this planet for a reason. Inside, they find Soobin is safe, napping in his bed through whatever altercation took place. Beomgyu is relieved, but overwhelmed -- Yeonjun has been kidnapped, the kid they were nursing is apparently a centuries old “traveler.” He takes a moment to scream into a pillow and sort his thoughts out, then decides to rescue his cousin. They gather a few things at the house, dense items that can serve as blunt force weapons, portable cell phone chargers in case of intergalactic travel, Yeonjun’s camera to record what happens, just in case things go south. Catching on, Taehyun wraps his hands with bandages, fingers sporting half of Yeonjun’s large ring collection. He doesn’t know what he’ll be able to do, knows that Kai likes to solve things non-violently when possible, but Taehyun is a squishy human who can’t regenerate, so if it’s a matter of using his fists or losing his life, he was going to make sure his fists hurt. Beomgyu locates his old boy scouts pocket knife. It was a trinket he packed by chance, had hardly used it beyond cutting open packages, but those alien guys are huge and he wasn’t above killing for his family. He just hoped it wouldn’t actually come to that.

Taehyun’s sonic tool leads the pair to another apartment building, one we recognise to be where Yeonjun found the small teddy bear being. They climb the stairs to the top floor, the previously bright white light dimming to a fuzzy soft yellow color. Taehyun stops at the top to determine a plan, and the pair argue; Beomgyu is more inclined to burst in and see what happens, while Taehyun prefers to have ideas prepared. However, when Beomgyu hears something like an initialization process, he shoves open the door -- heavier than it looks -- and finds himself in what seems to be a spaceship of sorts, not a hallway they expected. The room is dark and looks like a storage hull of sorts. Taehyun recognizes the various stages of aerial departure over the loudspeakers and panics. They have a lot less time to locate Kai and Yeonjun than they expected, less than five minutes if Taehyun remembers the sequence correctly.

So the pair run through the ship, doing their best to sneak around, but valuing speed over stealth. It doesn’t take terribly long to find the hostages -- a cell full with several species of beings stiff and standing like dolls, while Kai continues sleeping. Taehyun gives the sonic device to Beomgyu, who struggles to find the correct setting to unlock the ring keeping Yeonjun paralyzed. Taehyun kneels beside Kai, marveling at how young and small he looks now. The two of them could be classmates. He struggles to pull Kai onto his back. Kai might be younger and smaller now, but he’s still built solid. The speakers have announced a sixty-second countdown by the time Beomgyu finds the right setting and begins unlocking everyone’s cuffs. It’s at this point when Kai blinks, awake for the moment to praise Taehyun on a job well done. “Just make sure everyone gets home,” he says, then passes back out. Taehyun immediately feels the pressure of completing such a large task. There are at least ten other people here, not including his friends, and the spaceship might use an operating system Taehyun is familiar with, but he doesn’t know the ship model or the controls, let alone how to drive. Then there’s the group of aliens holding them hostage in the first place and Taehyun doesn’t even know how many there are! Sure, he came prepared for a fight, but he was only prepared to fight for as long as it took to get his friends and get back to the TARDIS. Which was also not an option because Taehyun for sure couldn’t steer that fancy ship if he asked it nicely.

“What do I even do?”

“There’s only five of them,” Yeonjun says.

“And if I free everyone, we’ll have a whole bunch of these things,” Beomgyu holds up Yeonjun’s ring. “Let’s cuff them.” He makes quick work of the rest of the hostages’ cuffs, collecting them between himself and Yeonjun

“Does anyone know what model ship this is?” Taehyun asks the group at large. “If we incapacitate those guys, could you steer yourselves home?”

“They stole this ship from me in the first place,” says someone with three pairs of eyes stacked atop one another and a vicious smile. “If you get me my ship back I’ll make sure everyone here gets home.”

Getting the cuffs on the kidnappers is easy, but not quick. The engines are at full roar and the countdown reaches ten before the last cuff is locked around a muscled arm and the ship secured. The original pilot aborts take off before thanking the boys for their help. They have their deputy -- someone called Fern with a long scar across their face -- take the thieves to the prison cells. The boys watch Fern press a couple of buttons on the cuffs, and the orange aliens shrink down to the size of a child’s “life-size” doll. Beomgyu blinks, excited at the display while it hits Yeonjun that his adorable keychain had never been a toy in the first place. Beomgyu vows to buy a new one for his cousin, but Yeonjun rejects the idea, heart broken and a little distrustful. What if it’s just another alien? Beomgyu looks down at his keyring, considering, but dismisses the idea. How likely would that happen twice?

So the three of them walk home, Kai still asleep on Taehyun’s back. It’s evening now, late enough that Taehyun might as well spend the night with them. Taehyun offers to buy takeout in return, and so the four of them are sitting on the apartment floor when Kai finally stretches and sits up, groaning over his good sleep. And Taehyun sits there staring because… Kai is adorable. He hadn’t been cute before -- the previous, middle-aged version of him and been stoic but kind, the Remus Lupin type if Taehyun could compare it to anyone. But this kid sat, drowning in his old clothes, pouting at having woken up. Even his pronunciation was cute. Taehyun couldn’t help the grin that found its place on his face.

“You,” he teases, “are a lot of trouble, do you know that?”

Kai blinks at him. “Oh. Was I?”

The two bicker until Kai drags the others into their fight.

“You found him,” Kai points vaguely in the direction of the cousins, “and he knew where I was!”

“I didn’t know who you were!” exclaims Beomgyu.

“Shhh,” Kai holds a finger up, only to get distracted by his clothes. He frowns, disliking how short the sleeves are, even while they pool at his elbow. He decides then that he needs to get back to his TARDIS. He wants to change clothes, and check his health since regenerating. His body feels the way it should, but it never hurts to be sure. Soobin offers to walk him wherever he’s going, and Kai tries to deny the offer, citing Taehyun as an adequate escort, but now Yeonjun’s insisting on making sure the two of them get to this ship in one piece and un-kidnapped, and Beomgyu insists on sticking with Yeonjun, so all five of them leave the apartment to walk Kai “home.”

“Home” looks like a storefront, next door to the convenience store the Choi cousins frequent. Yeonjun hadn’t paid attention to the dim lights and gated door when he passed the previous night, had only seen the sickly kid in a too-big sweater that fell into his arms. Kai pulls the door open with the gate and walks into the shop. The Chois frown, uncomfortable with where the night has led them. Taehyun easily follows, used to the various appearances of the TARDIS, and Beomgyu, trusting Taehyun trails after. Soobin and Yeonjun trade skeptical looks before entering the door last.

And the TARDIS is… not what they expect. They expected TARDIS to be a foreign word for “home,” and then expected to walk into an abandoned shop of some sort, complete with dusty floors and empty spaces. Instead, they find themselves in a very clean, very high-tech looking space. The walls are round and covered in a deep, bright blue, tile, similar to those used for sound proofing tile. Several sets of narrow staircases lead up to a balcony dotted with various lounge spaces, those walls covered with some sort of white square tile pattern over the blue. At the center of the room were several white tables, placed together to form a circle around a tall glass column. A holoscreen of sorts hovered above one of the tables, although the boys were all standing on the wrong side to attempt reading what it said. Kai stands in front of another screen, tapping and swiping away at whatever he reads there. Soon, each table has a holoscreen lit, numbers and readings scrolling too fast for any of them to read.

“So,” Kai begins, startling the Chois out of their awe. Taehyun seems to have disappeared somewhere further into the ship, through the dark doorway behind Kai, perhaps. “You’ve nursed me back to health. You rescued me. And now, you’ve walked me home. Thank you for taking care of me.” He bows, then turns back to his screens. He taps a few more times, swipes some shapes onto other screens, and then stops, sighing. The ship rumbles beneath his feet, and he feels safer, knowing that he’s in his ship and very little can get in without his permission. Kai suddenly seems much older than he looks. The lines of his shoulders don’t look like he’s just awoken from the great sleep he claimed.

“What did you do?”

Kai looks up and screams.

“Why are we shaking?” Yeonjun continues, eyes bugged, mouth pouting. He reaches for the nearest staircase, nearly tripping over his own feet in the process.

“What are you doing here?” asks Kai. He knows he dematerialized the ship, he wanted to let it hover somewhere in the time stream for a while, until he’s gone to the med bay and has checked on his companion. He knows he’s still exhausted from regenerating. His thoughts are still bouncing too fast in his head, he’s still in between two personalities, he isn’t thinking clearly. So when he finalized his destination, engaged the engines, and looked up, Kai didn't expect to still have four guests.

“We just walked you home,” says Soobin. “Where else would we be?”

“But I left you behind! We’re in flight! I just left your planet!”

“You didn’t, so bring us back!” Soobin argues.

“I can't, I just set her on autopilot!”

“Then unset it!”

Kai deflates. “She… really doesn’t like when I change my mind. We’ll be in flight for a while.”

“She?” asks Beomgyu. He’s the only one who doesn’t seem upset by the turn of events.

“I have a test next week!” cries Soobin, and it really does look like he’s on the verge of a panic attack. “I don’t have time to go gallivanting all over space, I need to be at home!”

“Oh!” Kai smiles, happy to offer a solution. “My TARDIS is also a time machine! I can get you home five minutes after we left, no problem. You’ll definitely be able to take your test.”

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give-soup-please · 1 year

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Oh-ho-ho It's me, May again, plopping myself down in your inbox like I own the place. Honestly I don't mind if you post them or not, it's ultimately up to you - perhaps you decide to post some, and keep others. Regardless, I'll keep bringing them to you like a crow bringing its favorite person shiny treasures. I am mildly interested to know who you think I am - though there's no need to be embarrassed if you were to get it wrong, I'm anonymous because I'm trying (kind of) to hide after all. Now, to actually get to the few things I've collected in my little notepad about what I wanted to talk about. (Yes, I have a notepad that I jot things down into so that I don't flood your inbox.) 1. I'm sure you already know this, you addressed it in your post, but I do feel like it's important to say it as well: It's okay to feel a bit panicked at first when confronted with a problem. I feel like it's only natural to feel that way, anyways. But the main thing is that it's rather impressive that you can take a step back and acknowledge that there are ways to help alleviate the problem even if you aren't able to solve it. This is something that I struggle with personally as well, and to see someone else who does, who also handles it in a beautiful way, is very motivating and reliving. It makes it feel like it isn't the end of the world even if I was panicking originally. You're doing a wonderful job at slowly pushing yourself towards making healthier choices for you, and I wanted to thank you for putting that out there for others to read, it brings inspiration even if you don't have a direction to go with it. I do wish life could have an immediate answer, though. It would be SO much easier... but of course, "It's not fun if it's easy" 2. Pomegranate honey sounds delicious, I love pomegranates, so I can only imagine pomegranate flavored honey would be amazing, and wildly superior to clove honey. 3. There's going to be more??!??!?!?!?!?!?!? I don't think I can put into words the excitement and joy that knowing that is a potential reality brings me. Perhaps you could imagine the excited sounds of a dog, amplified, mixed with various clapping noises and tapping from me stimming. But really, why in the world are you sorry?! Sorry for what? Coming back and gracing the TSP community with something as beautiful as your writing? Poppycock I say! I absolutely adore it, as you know, and honestly it's like thinking you ran out of your favorite thing and then realizing you have more of it. It brings joy! Another note: I've not been in this fandom nearly as long as you have, but I can agree with the "Welp, the Narrator has simply dragged me back into this thing and I will never escape again" cycle. I've enjoyed it, though, and I've met and discovered so so many lovely people (cough, you cough) so maybe that was his plan all along... the sneaky bastard... improving my mental health... [grumble grumble] 4. Fun fact, I was also the anon that submitted that question asking you if you thought the ocean was a soup, and I wholeheartedly agree: Soup needs to be warm. The only thing about gazpacho I like is saying the word like Puss says it in Puss in Boots. Oh, and I figured I would say, my favorite soup: It's this roasted garlic soup I made once, it was quite good. I can't recall what else was in it... other than roasted garlic... but obviously it was a soup.... Anywho, that's all I have for now. As always, please take care of yourself. Don't push yourself for something that isn't going to benefit you, and even if it has a benefit think of yourself in the long run first (is it really going to be worth it). Do something for you, and drink some water today if you haven't... and drink a little more if you have. ~ Your friend, May

hello again, may.

i'll start out small and see if i can start inching towards the truth over time. i believe you are someone i interact with in the discord DMs on a regular basis. that may not be the case, but you remind me of a good friend that i met under interesting circumstances.

i'm glad it helped. the path to better mental health is a hard one, one of the hardest paths to walk. but every small choice we make in the right direction is monumental.

2. yes, pomegranate honey is freaking delicious, but it is also hard to find. most grocery stores don't have it because it's copyrighted and is only made on one 5000 acre farm, according to the presentation i was at yesterday.

3. yes, there will be more. i'm working on a few pieces now. there will likely be a few more chapters of the human experience, and another... bonus story. which will hopefully be short and not another major undertaking dslkfjslkfjs (i realized at some point that the human experience project starts the narrator off as softer than his canon counterpart, and that i never really went into detail into how our relationship was established before he crossed over. nar will be a bit more mean in this one before he starts softening up, and closer to his canon self in terms of... pettiness. i'm aiming for that to be under ten chapters, because i just finished one 50k project and i don't think i can do it again so soon. as for my apologies, well, that's an interesting thing, isn't it? i want to move on from the narrator for complicated reasons that involve how i handle interpersonal relationships, but he keeps calling me back again and again. i'm still not done with him, and he's not letting me go despite my irritation about the whole thing.

interesting kind of soup there.

you take care of yourself too, ok? get uno reverse card(ed)

#may anon

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zenala-art · 1 year

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Reblogs sure are important as hell for everyone and we should encourage them more, but people that are overly petty over people who only like and don't reblog/comment/whatever are a little silly imo. As someone with a little marketing knowledge, in ANY form of work or interaction or anything in your life you're gonna see views and simple likes as WAY more common than reblogs or similar tools. Everywhere ever. Not all people seeing that billboard are gonna get your number to talk about your service, but if one or two of them do, it was already pretty good.

Most people enjoy showing simple, not very deep support as they scroll through. You do that consistently in your day to day life - do you go leave a personal comment on every piece of media you've ever consumed and mildly enjoyed? Do you leave a comment about every good web design? Have you shared every youtube video you've ever liked? A quite good fanfic like/comment ratio is 1/10. If your reblog ratio is similar you're doing fine. It's totally fine and natural to want more recognition, and the only way to get more here on Tumblr is with reblogs; but damn some of yall get TOO pressed over this that it's damaging to your mental health AND your own work.

No amount of "don't like if you're not going to reblog!" is gonna change that ratio significantly, if anything, you're just gonna make people avoid liking your art lol

It's like a restaurant that's like "only eat here if you're leaving a review!!!", it simply feels forced and awkward to have this expectation put on you. Maybe I liked the food but I didn't want to necessarily give them a review, they kinda just forced me to? So I'd rather just go eat somewhere else to avoid the issue, and go review it with a clean conscience if I decide to do it. Is it good to create the habit to review the places you go? Absolutely!! Can you remind them somewhere that they can review? Absolutely, that's only natural!! But forcing or guilt-tripping them into feeling bad for not reviewing won't do it chief. Forcing people to interact with your content artificially will never give you the recognition you're thinking it will

#zenala talks #rambles #im genuinely tired of this ngl you're just hurting yourself obsessing over social media behavior #I mean this as nicely as possible but learn to market your things better instead of blaming behavior everyone is going through #it's annoying to get 20 likes and 2 reblogs. i know it is. but you gotta suck it up man complaining wont do shit #reblog culture will grow naturally instead of artificially if we all keep consistently reblogging more

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biterbones · 5 days

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blood and decay

a vampire searches for her prey at a local bar, only for the night to not go as planned

cw: 18+, mild gore, blood, lesbians, mentions of sex

she stepped into the club, occasionally feeling the hips of a beautiful woman brush up against her. the whole building was alive, it exhaled and she could feel the heartbeat in her toes. out of the entire crowd of flesh, one specific girl caught her interest. a lonely girl, standing at the bar all by herself.

the first thing she noticed was how tall, she was. her curly, messy black hair that covered half of her face nearly reached the top of the ceiling. scraping the lesbian flag painted on the roof. another obvious thing was how raggedy she was, she looked like an anemic corpse and for some reason, vanessa liked that. it made her chest hot thinking of all the ways she could suck up everything that rotting hottie has to offer.

"heeey there cutie, i'm vanessa. who are your?" she casually questioned while running a contrasting dark brown finger over the mystery woman's pale skin.

"oh shit, are you talking to me? i'm zaniyah." She awkwardly tucked some hair behind her ear, revealing differently covered eyes. brown and blue swirled together like koi fish in the pond of vanessa's mind. "i've never seen you around here before, are you new in town?"

"yeah i am, i move a ton. i might stay here for a while though, this place is nice. plus, the people here are beautiful..." vanessa reached a hand up to stroke her face softly, but found zaniyah too tall. "shit, i can't reach. you're really fuckin' tall. how about you lean down so i can properly flirt, m'kay babe?" an odd dull blush spread over zaniyah's cracked skin as she was hit on.

"yeah, i get that alot. it's probably because i'm 6'8" she chuckled awkwardly, flaunting her height the same way insecure men do.

"you being for real?! why are you here and not in the nba?!"

"maybe i'm here so i can be with you?" zaniyah shrugged her shoulders cautiously. now it was vanessa's turn to blush, the maroon spreading all the way to the bleach blonde coils that framed her perfect face. oh this girl was just perfect, her mind filling with thoughts of what she'd taste like.

"how about i buy you a drink?"

"sorry, i don't drink."

"really? are you one of those puritans that don't drink?" vanessa's soft, adorable laughter didn't hide the mocking in her tone well. luckily the peer pressure went right over her new date's head.

"no, it's cause of health stuff. my liver is terrible, that's why you never get hand me downs from alcoholics!" vanessa chuckled, trying her best not to spit out her own drink. "buuut if you're gonna be a sweetheart, i guess i'll ask the bartender for a steak kabob, extra rare."

"skirting past your odd food tastes-" zaniyah rolled her special eyes playfully. "- i'm glad i found someone with the same dark humor as me, that 'hand me down liver' joke was hilarious!"

"i'm glad you like it, sometimes i freak people out."

"don't worry baby, i like that you seem a little freaky~"

"oh my gosh!" zaniyah lightly pushed her away with one hand while grabbing her appetizer with the other hand. it kind of put vanessa off how she devoured the bloody meat like a starving dog, but she hadn't brought anyone home in weeks and she was getting desperate. this was no time to be picky.

anxiety slithered onto her skin and creeped into her veins, paralyzing her with dread. she needed to get this girl home before one of the tens of other women around them got to her prey first. she needed to pounce.

"hey, zaniyah?" the tall girl's lips formed into a curious smile as vanessa ran a soft hand over her waist. "what do you say we go back to my apartment, and i'll give you something else to eat? it's super close by."

"huh?" the confused and mildly horrified look on her face was replaced with a shy understanding once she finally got it. "oh yeah... maybe we could just walk there though? my car is almost out of gas and i wanna save it for the ride home."

"sure!" that was fine with vanessa, it just meant less evidence to deal with at the end of the night.

the fear slowly slipped away as vanessa brought zaniyah up to her apartment, falling into the comfortable routine of kissing and leading her to the nice couch wrapped in plastic. ignoring the odd feeling of her teeth, she began to strip for her guest. what she never expected though, was for zaniyah to pounce first.

"what the fuck?!" the second she slipped the red dress of her shoulders, zaniyah ripped out a set of fake teeth and charged at her. biting into her shoulder and ripping into it, licking her lips at the tart, exotic taste. suddenly the juicy morsel was gone, the room was spinning, and there was a throbbing pain in her nose. she found herself across the room with blood pouring out of her nose.

"did you punch me?! what the hell!" zaniyah wiped the blood off her face and stood, taking a defensive stance. angry hisses and globs of spit flew out of vanessa's mouth. "oh my god, you're a vampire aren't you?! that's why you busted my favorite nose!"

"That was reasonable, you were trying to eat me!"

"I bet you were gonna try to eat me too!"

"oh here you go with the fucking stereotypes, you dumb zombies are all the same!"

"oh i'm dumb?! you brought a stranger in your home, i should kick your ass for ruining my night and my nose!"

"oh are you now?" the two women leaned in close, their noses only a little bit apart. eyes locked onto eachother's.

the room was a disaster. pillows stuck to the walls, sheets soaked with mystery liquids, and two sets of limbs tangled together. vanessa let herself relax into the warm hold of zaniyah as the zombie ran fingers over her pudgy stomach, letting her icy fingers rest on the flesh.

"holy shit... that was amazing..." zaniyah mumbled.

"i know right? humans just can't keep up with us monsters." she nibbled at her, lapping up the small pearls of blood that came out of the wound. "i guess it took someone dead to give me the best sex of my life. i was right, you are a little freak."

"how did we not even know the other was a monster anyway?"

"i know it's not my fault, i've never seen you at the conventions."

"wait, there were conventions?!" the zombie shot out of bed.

"you didn't know?! nobody invited you?! the whole underworld is there."

"this is bullshit." zaniyah went to walk away but was stopped by the blonde.

"i have a proposition and not the kind we did 10 minutes ago." she raised an eyebrow curiously. "i think if we work together, we could have enough food to feed a whole villiage. i get the blood, and you get the flesh." a soft smile spread on those creepy features that drew vanessa closer in the first place.

"i'd be happy to vanessa, i think... i think i found the love of my afterlife."

#writers of tumblr #writeblr #writers on tumblr #writing #writerscommunity #writers and poets #wlw post #wlw #monsters #zombies #vampires #tw blood #cw blood

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somelazyassartist · 2 years

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#this is dumb and I'm gonna delete this in a few minutes but I've been thinking about Kravitz a lot lately #cuz like #idk #as someone who's health is to put it mildly all over the place #I've been really loving him and his role as the grim reaper i guess #a lot of interpretations of death are evil or scary or sad and even the positive ones are like. idk how to put it #serene? i guess? like not malicious but still very proper and it's just me but i still find it a little unsettling #not death itself but just like. their attitude towards it i guess idk how to describe it #so idk I've just really liked thinking about Kravitz i guess #i like him as a dorky gay guy who does silly accents for no reason and is followed around by his little Pomeranian #he's not evil but he's not too-calm-for-comfort about it either i guess is what i mean #he's just kinda silly and well. for lack of a better term human #like yeah he's Death™ but he's also just a guy #idk.#this is dumb I'm sorry #vent #delete later

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myherowritings · 4 years

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PART 1. A VERY WELL-DESERVED TIP

SUMMARY. Todoroki Shouto was a wealthy, young CEO who inherited his father’s enterprise. You were a barista at a local cafe who wouldn’t mind some extra cash. One day, Shouto came in during an early morning shift and tipped you such a large sum of money, you were certain it had to have been an accident. To your surprise and complete pleasure: It was not.

PAIRING. ceo!todoroki shouto x barista!reader

WORD COUNT. 2.0k

GENRE. ceo/barista au, fluff, eventual smut

WARNINGS. none in this chapter

A/N. my brief work as a barista is finally paying off. i suffered at sbux all to write this fic ✌︎('ω'✌︎ ) LMAOOO i frl had so much fun writing this and i’m very excited to share the next parts ;) i hope you enjoy this fic as much as i do!! xx sof

SERIES MASTERLIST

You were not looking forward to your new work schedule for the next month.

The employee who usually came in for opening shifts at four in the morning gave her two weeks notice...two weeks ago. And since you had your availability open (you knew you should’ve blocked it off and said you had morning class), your manager asked you to fill her place.

The night before your first—of many—morning shifts, you tried tricking yourself into thinking it was a good idea. And it almost worked! Sort of.

You told yourself waking up early when the sun rose worked with your body’s natural circadian rhythm and this experience may adjust your sleep schedule for a healthier one in the long run. Better health and wellbeing and lower risks of cardiovascular disease. Or something. You weren’t too sure exactly; you never paid much attention in biology but it sounded like something you’d find in a textbook, right?

When you arrived on your first day, the morning shift was just as hectic and chaotic as you expected. People in business suits with name brand bluetooth earphones in their ears and the latest new smartphone in their hand filled the shop and waited for their online order. It was as if they wanted the least amount of social interaction possible, which would be fine if being able to make connections with customers wasn’t the most interesting part about being a barista.

Although the cafe you worked at was a small business who actually (tried) to pay their employees fairly and wasn’t a purely money hungry franchise like the certain green siren, it surprisingly had gained enough traction in the area to rival one of those cheap, chain stores.

Good for the business, bad for sleepy workers who could barely function in the mornings.

But you enjoyed working here and the owners were kind, so you did your best to shove away the tiredness and put a bright and cheery smile on your face. The customers were grumpier than you were used to, but who wouldn’t be a little ill-mannered having to go to work at 5 a.m. and probably not leaving until 6 p.m. or later because of bosses who overworked them? Trying to get them their morning coffee with an amiable attitude to start off their day right was something you were more than happy to do.

It was too bad barely any of them gave you the time of day. They just wanted to get their caffeine and leave with as little human interaction as possible. It was understandable, of course, but it wasn’t the lively cafe environment you were used to during later shifts. You sighed, hoping the atmosphere would be friendlier when it wasn’t a major rush hour.

“Hi! I can help the next person in line,” you called for the twentieth time this hour. When they moved forward towards the cash register, you gave them a smile. “Good morning. I hope your day has been going well!”

“It’s been okay, thank you. And yours?”

Your eyes widened in surprise and you almost sputtered over thin air. Someone who actually replied back to what you said and asked about you in return? Even if the intent was a courtesy conversation that was meant to be quick and brief, the sentiment was there—the upholding of the values of common courtesy and human decency. Something too many people seemed to lack.

“I’m good as well! A little tired but what’s to be expected a quarter ‘til 6 a.m.?” you said with a laugh. “Thank you for asking.”

The customer gave a small smile in return and you internally celebrated for finally seeing your first pleasant expression this morning. “Must be even more tiring dealing with all these people. Doesn’t seem easy. I have to commend you for it.”

He was a tall, handsome man with a pretty face, soft-looking hair, and genuinely nice? There was no way this was real; you had to be dreaming.

You twiddled with the pen in your hands, taken aback and mildly embarrassed by the praise. “Just doing my job,” you said with a bashful look. “Thank you, though.” You cleared your throat, not wanting to hold the line up for too long, even if the customer was one you would rather keep talking to than the others. “Now, what can I get started for you today?”

“Right. Can I get a flat white in the medium size?”

“Of course.” You typed in his order into the register before asking, “And is there anything else I can get for you? Like a pastry? Today we have some freshly baked cheese danishes that are really yummy if you’d like to try!”

He thought for a while before shrugging. You weren’t sure if it was your eyes playing tricks on you or he actually had an amused look on his face. “Sure, I’ll take a couple dozen of those as well.”

“A couple dozen—?” your voice faltered. The suggestion of a fresh pastry was one you made to almost every customer, though most turned it down on the spot.

The cafe had a little weekly competition between workers to see who could sell the most pastries in the week and the one who sold most got...well, a free pastry and bragging rights. Admittedly, it wasn’t much, but nothing revved up sales like friendly rivalries. An order of a couple dozen was sure to land you in the top spot this week! Still, you had to make sure he meant it. You’d feel bad if he was just spending all his hard-earned office work money because he was trying to be courteous. (Or at least, you assumed he was some office employee.)

You cautiously asked, “Are you sure?”

Either your eyes were playing tricks on you yet again, or the look of amusement on his face grew even more than before as he said, “I’m sure. One medium flat white and, say, three dozen boxes of cheese danishes, please.”

“C-Coming right up!” you said, quickly entering his order and celebrating your free end-of-the-week pastry in advance. “That will be $42.81. Would that be card or cash?”

“Card.” He pulled out a sleek, black card with gold detailings on it and you never knew you could be sexually attracted to a credit card until now.

“Perfect! Go ahead and swipe, insert, or scan your card now. In the meantime, can I get a name for your order please?”

He scanned his card over the machine before looking back up at you. “It’s To— Ah, Shouto.”

“Shouto?” you asked in confirmation. You assumed it wasn’t ‘Toahshouto’. That sounded too much like the abbreviation used to remember how to find sine, cosine, and tangent.

“Yeah. Shouto.”

You smiled. “Well, Shouto, your order will be ready in a few minutes. Please wait over to your right to pick it up!”

He nodded.

“It was nice meeting you!” you called, waving goodbye. “I hope you have a good rest of your day.”

“Thank you,” he glanced at your nametag, “Y/N.”

Oh, how nice it felt to be treated like a human by a customer and have them actually address your name— And not to say it in a condescending way either.

“Do individual baristas get to keep the tips here?”

You blinked, feeling your face warm up slightly. “We do, actually.” One of your favorite parts of the job, you had to admit.

“Glad to hear.” Shouto pulled out some crisp-looking bills from his wallet and placed one in your hand that said ‘100’ to you. “Thank you for your kind service, Y/N.”

“Wha—” Your eyes widened. You were expecting something along the line of three dollars. Maybe five at most. But a hundred? By the time you had processed what had happened he was walking away from the cash register. “Wait— Shouto...sir! I think you accidentally gave me the wrong amount.”

He shook his head, only briefly turning back to face you. “Nope. It’s for you,” he said simply. “I’m looking forward to the cheese danishes.”

His words left you stunned, but the next customer in line tapped their foot impatiently, signaling it was now time for you to take their order. You hoped the line died down before Shouto left the cafe so you could return the tip, but seeing as how the queue almost extended out the door, you had the sinking feeling that wouldn’t be a possibility.

“Hello, I can take the next customer in line!” you recited cheerfully, mind still occupied by thoughts of your last encounter.

The next few orders went along uneventfully (though you did manage to sell two more cheese danishes) and by the time Shouto got his coffee and pastry boxes, you still had a handful more customers to get through.

“Pardon me real quick,” you said apologetically to the woman in front of you. “Please give me one moment?”

She graced you with a nod and you thanked the stars above for an understanding patron.

“Wait— Excuse me, sir!” You waved in Shouto’s direction before he could exit the cafe. He glanced at you curiously but walked over. In a hushed voice, you said, “I really appreciate the tip, but there’s no way I could accept this much money from you!”

For the first time today, you say the hints of a frown on his face. “You cannot?”

“No! $100 is a lot! You already bought $40 worth of cheese danish pastries— Are you sure you meant to give that big of a tip?”

“Of course.” He took a sip of his coffee with a satisfied hum. “You getting up at such an early hour to take people’s orders with a kind attitude isn’t easy. Plus, trying to build rapport with each of them all while keeping the interacting swift is a difficult task itself. And it’s probably worth more than your current pay, the $100 tip, and then some.”

You blinked, stunned by his words. This man kept surprising you so many times in just one morning.

“I find it ridiculous how certain occupations are paid an ungodly amount more than others, especially when a lot of it comes from privileges you were born into.” Shouto seemed to mumble the last bit to himself, but you were still able to understand what he said. “It’s bullshit.” Before you could respond, he recollected himself. “Eat the rich, right? All that to say, please accept the tip. You deserve it. And I promise it’s of no detriment to me, so please don’t feel bad.”

Seeing the determined look on his face, you couldn’t help but stare at him before nodding. He didn’t say anything you didn’t already believe yourself, and if someone really wanted to give you $100, you weren’t going to fight them on it. Think of all the dumplings you could buy, you told yourself.

“T-Thank you then.” You gingerly placed the folded bill back into your pants pocket. “I think that was really insightful of you and I’m very grateful.”

“Don’t worry about it.” He smiled before glancing towards the exit. “I’m running a bit late for work now, so I should be going. Have a good day, Y/N.”

“You too, Shouto. And… Thank you again!”

With a glowing expression on your face, you walked back to the cash register ready to face the day and talk to more lovely customers!

“Hey, little barista!” a gruff voice called from the line, snapping you out of your stupor. “Hurry it up already before you force me to complain to your manager.”

You internally sighed. You understood they were in a rush, but they still had no right to be that rude.

“Can you even hear me? Or are you too incompetent?”

Cue another internal sigh.

Yeah, okay. Maybe you did deserve this $100 tip.

Regardless of the rude customers that may have come in, at least you had your thoughts of a cute, kind businessman who went by the name of Shouto to get you through your shift. And you could only hope you’d be able to see him again.

a/n: the end of part one folks!! oh what i’d give to have gotten a tip like this when i worked as a barista BAHAHA only in my dreams. i hope you enjoyed this little intro part and are excited for what’s to come !! :3

what to expect in the next part:

~maybe~ y/n will see shouto again and,,perhaps,,get more tips from him idk who knows

old lady imparts some...helpful(?) advice

we briefly get to see shouto’s pov! ;D

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thebeautyoffanfics · 3 years

Note

hello!! May i request tsuchigomori, akane and teru with a s/o whos an exorcist which uses their blood to use their abilities to the fullest??

Thamk you in advance !!

tsuchigomori x gn!reader, akane aoi x gn!reader, teru minamoto x gn!reader

a/n: of course!! I doubt this is what you had in mind, but the first thing i thought of when reading this is Beyond the Boundary (in particular, the character Mirai)! Which is a series I hold very near and dear to my heart <33 that being said, I’m writing this as if the reader is that similar to Mirai <33 if it’s not what you had in mind, it’s a funny little coincidence, and I hope you like it!! Anyway, thank you so much for requesting!!!

warnings: blood/anemia mention

word count: Collectively, 1,404

Tsuchigomori <3

He’s impressed- though he only shows it mildly. He’s never had much worry about being exorcised, so when he finds out that you’re 1) and exorcist and 2) use your blood to do your job, he simply raises his eyebrows a bit, muttering an “oh really?”

I feel like he takes relationships really seriously, and is probably friends with you for a while before considering himself ready for a relationship. Whether it’s before or after establishing a relationship, he makes sure that he trusts you very dearly before letting you know he’s a supernatural.

He definitely trusts you not to exorcise him- in fact, he’ll joke about how your ‘little abilities’ are amateurish, but at least they’re cute. He’ll back that up by saying “hey, if I had to fight, at least it wouldn’t make me anemic.”

However, despite joking about anemia, he genuinely does find himself worrying for your health. If you’ve been working hard and show up looking sickly, he’s sitting you down and scolding you as he goes to figure out how exactly he should help an anemic person.

Tsuchigomori makes sure that you eat iron-rich foods often. Buys you cereals, dried fruits, etc. He also buys you iron pills- while he’s not exactly supportive of exorcising just any supernatural, as long as you’re limiting it to those that cause harm, he puts your health first. Heck, even if you exorcised a few harmless ones, he’d probably want to make sure you’re in your best condition.

The best part, is how casually he cares for you- he genuinely will be ushering you to go to bed earlier so that you can heal up a bit with the same face he gives you when he tells you he’s off to work.

Should you tease him for worrying so much, he simply stands up and leaves. He’s just messing with you of course, but as long as you don’t stop him, he will genuinely go into a different room. Just call for him, and he’ll be turning around, a hand on his hip as he tells you it’s his job to care for you.

“I’ve had to doctor you more than I have my students, (Y/N). Honestly, please learn your limits before I start making an actual doctor see you. Hey- stop spacing out. I promise you, if you pass out I’ll leave you on the floor.”

“You’re so meannnn,”

“Am I now? That’s too bad.”

Akane Aoi <3

Seeing as he’s on the student council with Prince Know-It-All, he probably knew you were an exorcist before entering a relationship with you. It doesn’t bother him though- it’s not like he’s fully supernatural anyway. Plus, supernaturals can really be pains- he dislikes them, and won’t hesitate to let you know that once the two of you have established that you’re both “not normal” in a seeing-supernaturals sort of way.

You and Akane are probably friends for a while before dating, but he doesn’t outright tell you he’s part supernatural until he’s comfortable establishing a relationship. He probably planned to make it a part of a confession, but you actually found out by complete accident- spotting him in his supernatural form as you were busy trying to find a particularly annoying supernatural.

“Hey, Akane, have you seen a- wait- Akane???”

“(Y/N)???”

Both of you were fairly concerned. You were seeing your friend and crush looking very different (to say the least. To say the most, he was looking fabulous as heck, and, quite frankly, hot.) And Akane was seeing his friend and crush wielding some sort of… bloody weapon? You rushed to exorcise the pest, but, the moment the creature was gone, you caught up with Akane. While you weren’t sure what to expect from him, you weren’t too surprised when the boy ran up to you as well. Plenty of questions were asked, but it was cleared up before too terribly long!

What you weren’t expecting, was for Akane to ask you out not long after that, but that’s a completely different story-

The only thing that bothers him about your abilities is that you were using your blood to assist in exorcisms. He definitely worries like crazy whenever he knows you’re out getting rid of harmful supernaturals. Heck, he even offers to assist you multiple times, sometimes not accepting no as an answer. The thought of his precious s/o out there not only fighting monsters, but risking anemia while doing to was too much for his heart to handle.

He can’t help but feel a bit uneasy when he sees your blood. Akane really, really doesn’t want you to get hurt. The moment he notices you getting pale or dizzy, he’s taking over completely, making you stand back. The moment it’s taken care of, he’s carrying you to a safer place and making sure that you’re going to be alright.

He realizes that his protectiveness is probably a bit overbearing, seeing as he’s sure you’re somewhat aware of how to take care of yourself, but he genuinely can’t help his concern. Akane cares about you so dearly- he couldn’t live with himself if, for some reason, a supernatural managed to slip you up. If you tried to push yourself just a little bit further, what would happen? Nope, no way. Not risking it. Sorry, (Y/N), you’ve got yourself a fairly protective one-

Teru Minamoto <3

Teru, my man- he probably managed to already know that you’re an exorcist. I’m not entirely sure how, but he just… gives off those know-it-all vibes, you know? Teru somehow knows everything about everyone, and that’s simply how it is. One thing he didn’t know though, was how you exorcised supernaturals, but we’re going to get there eventually.

Teru was, honestly, a bit relieved to know another exorcist. Seeing supernaturals was overwhelming at times, so having someone that understood how he felt was rather nice. Therefore, Teru gladly welcomed you, and soon began to consider you a friend.

He still finds himself laughing over the way the two of you realized the other was an exorcist as well- you were still fairly new to the school, having only been there for around a month, and were walking through the halls with Teru. You had glanced over at just the right time- getting a glance into the girls’ bathroom as a few girls were exiting. You felt your face drop, a tinge of both annoyance and disbelief filling you.

“Are you alright, (Y/N)?”

“Fine, other than no one told me that even the bathroom would have a- wait- nevermind, it’s nothing, there’s just something up with the girls’ bathroom.”

“Oh, the supernatural in there? He’s a pain, but we can’t exorcise him. I told my brother I wouldn’t.”

“Ah… wait-”

As it clicked for you, Teru had begun to laugh, and continued to laugh as you asked him multiple questions. After he caught his breath a bit, he explained that he was aware that you were an exorcist, and that he was as well- in fact, he and his brother came from a long line of exorcists. You found yourself growing a bit more comfortable around Teru after that, now aware that you weren’t alone in such a strange world. In fact, you’re somewhat sure that the entire encounter is one of the reasons you fell so hard for Teru-

Once Teru showed you how he got rid of supernaturals, you showed him how you did as well. He was honestly impressed, telling you how he hadn’t seen anyone do it that way before. Teru will ask you plenty of questions, including whether or not it puts you at risk for anemia. After realizing that it does, Teru will definitely worry a bit, but he does his best to trust you.

Especially after the two of you start dating, Teru finds himself wanting to assist you when you work. He’ll say that it’s because you’re his darling s/o and he simply cares about you, but it’s a bit more than that- Teru doesn’t want to even risk the chances that you get hurt by a supernatural or your abilities.

Very prepared as well! He can’t cook, but he does make sure that Kou makes iron-rich foods whenever you eat at their home. He also carried around iron supplements, and will not hesitate to carry you away from a supernatural if he feels like you’re pushing yourself too far.

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starlightrows · 3 years

Text

In The Eye Of The Beholder

Chapter 1

Pairing: Commander Wolffe x reader

Word Count: 2k

Warnings: brief description and mildly graphic medical jargon about losing an eye and having a prosthetic implant placed

Summary: Shortly after the events of the Battle of Khorm, the Kaminoans don’t see the value in moving forward with treatment for Commander Wolffe... you, the GAR doctor on the Coruscant disagree

“I don’t remember asking for your goddamn opinion ambassador!” you shout up at the pale long necked Kaminoan, who’s been passively berating you in an attempt to get your patient taken off life support. Your communicator goes off loudly, and you feel no shame in looking at it instead of listening to the Kaminoan ambassadors retort.

“I’m sorry ambassador, but this discussion is over. The requisition for the cybernetic prosthesis has gone through and whether you like it or not, I am going to give that man a fighting chance. He didn’t lay down his life to be tossed out with the garbage. Now get out of my med bay,” your turn on your heel, and begin speaking into your comlink to arrange for the surgery to get underway immediately.

The procedure took nine grueling hours to fully clear out the wound, put in the prosthetic eye and reconstruct the damage to the soldier's facial structure. He stood a good chance of making a full recovery if the cybernetic innervations healed correctly. Now it was just a matter of letting him rest and wake up in his own time.

Most clone troopers in the GAR hospital didn’t get many visitors, most didn’t stay long enough to need visitors though the ones that lived through their ordeals usually recovered on transports back to the front line. But this trooper had a frequent visitor, a Jedi.

“He must be a very good commander for you to check in on him so often,” you comment one afternoon, standing by the door. The tall Kel Dor turned to face you.

“He is. A dutiful, loyal, hardworking commander. But that is not why I come to see him,” he says

“Why then? Certainly a Jedi Master and a General in the Grand Army of the Republic has many duties and responsibilities to see to,” you approach the bed with your tray of fresh wound dressings for his eye.

“The same reason you advocated for him when the Kaminoans wanted to let him die. He is a person. An individual. He is a good man. And he is a member of my team,” he explains while you work to remove the bandages that keep the stitches and cybernetics clean.

“You care for him,” you say with a smile, applying a layer of bacta gel to the stitches with a cotton bud.

“Indeed. I care for him, and all of his brothers that serve under my command. I am not the only one who worries after his health,” The jedi steps around you, trying not to be in the way.

“Well that makes two of us. I don’t even know him, but I want him to live. And not just to keep serving the republic,” you finish applying the bacta gel and begin rewrapping his head with clean bandages.

“You have a good heart doctor, and better view of the troopers than most. I think he’ll like you when he has the chance to formally meet you,” the jedi says

“I should hope so, he’ll have to come back fairly regularly for check ups and case study updates. He’s the first living being with this particular model of prosthesis. If he doesn’t like me, it’ll be a very unpleasant couple months until the study is complete,” you’ve finished wrapping his head, but find you can’t stop looking at his handsome face. True you’ve seen thousands exactly like his before, but right now it’s as if you’ve never seen anyone like him.

“I’ll be the first to admit, he’s stubborn and a bit gruff. But he’s not so bad once you get to know him, he’s fiercely protective and hates to feel weak. This will be a difficult recovery for him, but I have confidence in him. And in you doctor,” you tear your gaze away from the commander and smile at the jedi.

“Thank you master jedi,” you give him a small bow of your head out of respect.

“Plo,” he says “No need for such formalities,” you wonder briefly if he is smiling beneath his deoxygenator, it certainly sounds like it.

“And him? They don’t include their chosen names in their identification codes, just CC and CT numbers. I doubt he goes by his CC number day to day,” you pack away your equipment, unfortunately other patients are waiting, as much as you would love to stay and chat with the kind jedi master. Plo tracks your movements, he senses your rising anxieties about having to leave and attend to other matters in the hospital. Just as you’re about to leave without getting an answer, Plo speaks up.

“His name is Wolffe”

—

Much to your delight, Commander Wolffe does wake up within a few days. And he’s every bit the stubborn, defensive, and unwilling patient Master Plo promised he would be. He keeps getting up and trying to leave despite obviously being in immense physical pain, he’s already ripped his stitches once, and he’s down right refusing to let you get near him to check the wound and change the dressing.

“Commander Wolffe I am at my wits end here. I’m going to step out to allow you a visitor, and when I come back you will be laying on that bed, I am changing those dressings, you are taking your medication. Is that that clear?” You bark at him. He glares at you with his one amber eye but does not respond.

You push the door open and see Master Plo waiting on the other side.

“He’s all yours General, talk some sense into him if you can,” you toss the comment over your shoulder as you head down to the nurses station for a cup of water.

Master Plo enters the patient room, and finds Wolffe pacing against the far wall. His head snaps up, and he visibly struggles to bring the newcomer into his field of vision.

“General!” Wolffe says in surprise, straightening his posture

“Wolffe, your doctor tells me you’re refusing care,” Plo closes the door behind him.

“I should be out there,” Wolffe growls “Kriff… I shouldn’t even be alive right now. They’re keeping me alive to keep me in a box!”

Plo senses that there is something more, something he’s holding back, beyond wanting to be released from med bay.

“You know better than most that withholding the truth can be the determining factor between life and death,” Master Plo says carefully, approaching Wolffe with slow movements “but this truth is one that needs to be shared,”

Wolffe’s shoulders drop and what little color he’s managed to regain drains from his face. His knees give out and he sinks down onto the floor, tears stain both his good cheek and the bandage. Master Plo moves to join him on the floor.

“Good soldiers don’t lay around in hospital beds and weep over superficial pain,” Wolffe says weakly “Soldiers that don’t recover quickly… get decommissioned and sent back to Kamino in a box,”

“You are already recovering quickly, and your doctor can give you something for the pain so you can heal faster,” Plo says cooly “You are not being sent back to Kamino. Your doctor made sure of that,”

“What?” Wolffe was surprised to hear this, up to this point all of his conscious interactions with you had been rather gruff and none too friendly, he can’t imagine why you weren’t doing everything in your power to get him out of your hospital and out of your way.

“A Kaminoan ambassador came to assess treatment at this hospital and saw your condition, they incorrectly assumed that it would be more beneficial to cease all treatment. Your doctor, shall we say, violently disagreed,”

“Violently sir?”

“They were furious she went ahead with the surgery. Believe me, if someone had recorded it on a holo I would show it to you. It was quite the spectacle,” Master Plo laughs “She was adamant that you deserved a fighting chance,”

—

Later that evening after General Plo had left, you returned to Wolffe’s room with a tray of equipment to change his dressings, and medicine to help with the pain.

“Commander Wolffe if I come into this room and you throw something or scream at me, I will have you physically restrained,” you say sharply before fully entering the room. He’s sitting on the bed facing away from the door.

“I won’t yell,” he replies quietly without turning around, his tone is decidedly gentler than before. Whatever the General said to him must have done the trick. You approach him cautiously, rounding the end of his bed so you could get a good look at him. His face is set in a harsh grimace.

“Are you in pain?” You ask. He nods but doesn’t reply. “I am going to change those dressings and we’re gonna test out that new eye. I think with a good dose of anti inflammatory medication, and some intraocular movement you’ll feel better,”

He nods again, you drag a chair over and sit in front of him, he doesn’t bat your hand away when you move to unwrap his bandages. The silvery white cybernetic eye under the protective padding is downcast to match its whiskey gold twin. The stitches are finally healing up with the help of the bacta gel.

“Good news Commander I think you’re healed enough you won’t need a fresh bandage. Now let’s see how well this prosthesis works. Can you look at my nose?” You remove a penlight from your pocket and shine it in each of his eyes.

You run through a series of tests asking him to stare straight ahead at you, follow the light with his eyes, and tell you when he can or can’t see you moving the end of the pen out of his vision. Pressure and tightness on his left side subsides he continues moving his eye around.

“Your reactions look normal, how does it feel?” you click off your penlight and tuck it away.

“Hurts a bit less,” he quietly admits “I’m sorry about before,”

His change in demeanor is a surprise but a welcome one, far better than him trying to escape or aggressively get away from you. You give him a small cup with the anti inflammatory medicine in it, and second small cup with water. He takes the pills without complaint. You remain seated in front of him, to maintain this comfortable closeness.

“It’s okay. I know this isn’t easy,” you give him a sympathetic look.

“General Plo mentioned that you advocated for me, I would be dead if it wasn’t for you…” he falters “thank you,”

That familiar feeling you had before when he was still on life support crept back up on you. Heartbreak for how much he and his brothers have to sacrifice, longing to show him the appreciation he deserves, and something else, something you can’t place.

“This war won’t last forever. You deserve the chance to live in the freedom and peace you fight so hard to protect,”

He’s a bit stunned. Sure he’s heard a handful of politicians advocating for clone rights, but he’s never heard anyone say something like this. He can tell your words are genuine and heartfelt.

“Is there any way I can repay you, or thank you for sticking your neck out for me?” He asks “It takes guts to stand up to those soulless bastards,”

“Well ah… don’t thank me too fast. I know you didn’t exactly sign up for this but your prosthetic is a brand new top of the line prototype. By default you’re a participant in the longitudinal study of its effectiveness,” you admit sheepishly. He raises an eyebrow and peers at you. “On the positive side, you’ll get a bit more shore leave to come in for appointments,”

“Well that’s certainly nothing to complain about. My offer still stands, can I take you out as a thank you?”

You smile warmly and quirk up a brow to match him. “Take me out? Hm… I get off in a couple hours and you’re being discharged from med bay today, I’m game if you give me a chance to run home and ditch my scrubs,”

“It’s a deal,”

#Star Wars #Clone Wars #Commander Wolffe #Wolffe #cc 3636 #commander wolffe x reader #commander Wolffe x fem reader #my clone husband

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yourheartonfire · 4 years

Text

A continuation of this:

The door hissed open and the protagonist jolted up to their feet. The Supervillain paused in the doorway with a polite, amused smile, waiting to see what the protagonist would try. Turning red, the protagonist sat back down again on the bed in a jangle of chain.

After their exit from the party at knifepoint, the Supervillain had whisked them off to a penthouse apartment that was not the address on file for their fictional company persona. In the back of their closet was the hidden door to this saferoom - bigger than the protagonist's actual bedroom, they noted to themselves with fury. The first night the Supervillain had handcuffed them to the bunk. A few hours later, they'd returned with a bag of groceries and longer chain and shackle - just long enough to reach the necessity on one side and the mini fridge on the other. Not long enough to reach the control panel by the door. Or to reach the Supervillain as they set up a little folding table in the center of the room and laid out take out boxes. Two place settings. Plastic forks only, no silverware and not even a plastic butter knife.

"Why aren't I dead?" the protagonist said. Their voice, embarrassingly, cracked and the Supervillain chuckled as they pulled up a chair for themselves.

"I win," they said, hitching the table just close enough for the protagonist to reach. "I had a bet with myself that would be the first thing you said."

The protagonist clenched their fists and tried to ignore the amazing smells wafting from the table. It had been a long time living on cold cuts and fruit. "How long have I been here?"

The Supervillain laughed. "And that was the second thing."

"Oh, very impressive," the protagonist snapped. "Something happens and you go 'Ha ha ha I knew that was going to happen, I'm so smart, blah blah blah.'"

The Supervillain cocked their head. The protagonist went silent again, heart racing.

"To answer your second question," they said mildly. "Three days. To answer your third question," they said louder, before the protagonist could do more than sputter, "No one's missed you. You emailed out sick. Your poor mother's health again. Everyone's being very respectful. To your face," they added. "You should see what they're saying about you in the office chats. Are you going to eat?"

The protagonist swallowed hard but took the fork and a foam box. It was salmon over a bed of rice pilaf. The protagonist loved salmon. They glared at the Supervillain and dug in. "And the first question?" they said through a full mouth.

The Supervillain didn't seem bothered. They twirled noodles around their fork, stabbed a piece of shrimp. "Frankly, darling, I don't quite know myself," they smirked and took a bite. "You are an unexpected complication, and you've forced me to acceler - well." They cut themselves off, took a sip from their bottle of water. "Never mind that. Do you know, I fully intended to kill you once I got you down to the garage. But I didn't!" they said cheerfully. "It has been so long since someone surprised me - even in such a small and ultimately meaningless way."

The protagonist reached for their own water, locking their fingers around the bottle to keep their hands from trembling. The chain rattled embarrassingly loud. "And it wasn't because of that kiss, of course," they said softly.

The Supervillain paused again mid gesture. Looking decidedly less amused this time. They put their fork down, laid those super strong hands flat on the folding table. "There's so many possible uses for you," they said silkily. "Hostage. Ransom. Scapegoat. Captive audience when I need to do a bit of gloating." They picked up the table, food and all, and slid it to the side. The protagonist flinched back, suddenly without the barrier - however flimsy - between them. "But it is interesting that you bring that kiss up," the Supervillain went on, eying the protagonist up and down in a way that made them blush again. "I don't suppose you'd be interested in being seduced to my side?"

"What? No!" The protagonist bolted up again. "You're - you're amoral and vicious and you kidnapped me -!"

"Ah!" the Supervillain said. "You'd just like to be seduced then."

For a split second the protagonist froze. That was all the time the Supervillain needed to catch the chain, to yank them into their arms.

And then they were kissing again. This time the protagonist was kissing back. It was self- defense, really; they couldn't afford to be overwhelmed again. The Supervillain seemed to like it, making a pleased hum as the protagonist fumbled their free hand under the villain's shirt, against their skin.

This time it was the Supervillain who broke it off first, eyes gleaming in the harsh florescent light. "You are full of surprises," they murmured, strokely a finger gently along the protagonist's cheekbone. And then abruptly they shoved the protagonist back against the wall, pinning them there with a hand to their neck. "But I won't underestimate you twice. Give me back my phone."

"Hm?" the protagonist croaked, wide-eyed. But the Supervillain was already plucking the slim box from the protagonist's fingers, where they'd been trying to slip it into their pocket. The Supervillain chuckled and tucked the phone away again.

"You can't do things like that and expect me not to want to keep you," they said, relaxing their grip. "I haven't had this much fun on a date in years."

"This is not - You can't keep me here!" the protagonist protested. "Someone - my friends - will notice I'm gone!"

The Supervillain smiled and leaned in. "By the end of the week," they whispered in the protagonist's ears, "Your friends aren't really going to be a concern."

They strode out without a look back, the door hissing shut behind them.

The protagonist gave it about tennish minutes, curled up on the bed in defeat, before sliding out the real thing they'd stolen off the Supervillain - a ballpoint pen. They got to work disassembling it under the covers. This would help breaking into the wires running through the back panels behind the bunk and - if the Supervillain wasn't lying - they didn't have much time.

They definitely were not still thinking about that kiss.

Now wrapped up in Part 3 here!

#my fiction #continuations #hero and villain #protagonist x Supervillain #heroxvillain #heroes and villains #villains and heroes #100 #300

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thekisforkeats · 3 years

Text

The Way You Say My Name

Info: The Magnus Archives, JonMartin, rated T for swears. Canon-Compliant. Set immediately post-MAG 22. Martin is trans and Jon is amab non-binary.

CWs: Guilt, self-recrimination, worms (mentioned), arguments, shouting, crying, lying (Martin lying about his CV still), transphobia (mentioned), misgendering (mentioned), child abuse (mention of Martin Blackwood's mother)

Summary: Just after MAG 22, Jon apologizes for his treatment of Martin over the past few months. Or tries to, anyway. It's hard to apologize to someone when you don't understand exactly what it is you've done to upset them.

(Of course, once Jon's apologized and Martin's relaxing, well... that's when Jon will finally notice he actually likes Martin, isn't it? Not that he's going to admit to that, even to himself.)

Shoutout to the Martin Blackwood Lovers Discord Server, without whom I would not have written this up and posted it. ;) Jon’s dialogue was (mostly) written by @marianfuckinghawke.

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

“Recording ends.”

Jon reached out and pressed the stop button on the tape recorder. He sighed and looked at his phone. The message from Jane Prentiss was still glowing on the screen. He ran a hand through his short hair, aware he was mussing the grey-streaked black and deciding he didn’t care.

He had listened to Martin’s account of the encounter with Jane Prentiss with trepidation and worry. Now he could feel his face settling into something more drawn with concern. First, concern for his two assistants who were out of the Archive at the moment. Second, concern for Martin. The man had gotten himself into this mess because of Jon’s words. Due diligence. Was he really such a hardass that he had put one of his subordinates in harm’s way? How had he not realized that it might come to this?

Martin sat fidgeting, shifting in his seat, and Jon could feel the other man’s soft brown eyes on him. He had the look of a frightened, cornered animal and it cut Jon to the quick. He had done this. Jon was responsible for the man’s state, and he had to figure out how to make it better.

There was silence for a solid three minutes. Then Martin opened his mouth to say, “So if I’m going to be--”

Jon started speaking at exactly the same time. “So obviously you’re--” He blinked and said, “I’m sorry--”

“No, no, you go,” Martin said, raising his hands and waving them rapidly.

“No. It’s alright… go ahead,” Jon replied at the exact same time, then frowned.

Martin cleared his throat, then seemed to gather his courage. “Well. I was going to say. If I’m going to be staying here, I’ll need… things. Like, uhh, there’s a cot, but I’ll need, like… a toothbrush? I mean, you don’t have a stash of those sitting around, do you?” He chuckled in a self-deprecating manner.

“No, I do not,” Jon replied. “Nor do you have a proper change of clothing… you can hardly wear the same outfit for however long this will take, and you won’t want to sleep in what you’re wearing.” He had a sudden mental image of Martin sleeping naked, and cleared his throat while he shoved it away. Hardly an appropriate thought about a co-worker, even if it wasn’t remotely sexual. “We will have to go out and get such things for you… perhaps after I brief Tim and Sasha on the situation.”

Martin nodded. “There’s a room that might be, umm… did you know one of the rooms that’s filled with boxes is supposed to be the break room?” He gave that self-deprecating laugh again. “‘Course you know that, stupid, what am I saying…” He glanced aside, cheeks flushing. “Umm. Anyway. Umm. It’s bigger than the room you’ve got the cot in? If… if… I’m going to be staying here… I could clean it out… make it livable, maybe, umm, get some snacks and tea and things in, and there’d be more room for extra cots… in case you need somewhere to stay late or… something…” A pause. “Or not! Or just. You know. I’ll just. Have lots of time, so. I can. Clean. The break room.”

Jon did not, in fact, know that they’d had a break room at all. It had been frustrating to have everyone going up to the Admin break room on the ground floor, and he’d said so more than once. No, wait… had someone told him, and had he just told them off about clearing the room out?

He was suddenly horribly aware of how many times he’d griped at Martin for going up there to make tea that he had then gone ahead and drunk. How had he been such a prick to this man?

When Jon had started as Head Archivist, he’d had all sorts of plans for team morale, bonding exercises, and the like. He’d always hated them personally but they were the sort of thing bosses were supposed to do. The trouble was that all of his “how best to run the Archives as a team” ideas had flown right out of his head once he’d gotten down there and found himself at a desk where a woman had maybe died, struggling to record statements, dealing with doggy messes, and that damned persistent feeling of being watched.

Well, now was as good a time as any to start acting the way he should have all along.

“Martin… we will clean the break room. Together. As a group.” He ran his hand through his hair again. He really was going to look a mess. “It is a communal space, it will be a communal job.” He added quickly, “Yes, I know you’ll be here more than the rest of us, but I want us all involved. We need…” He sighed. Time to apologize. “I have been… less supportive of you than I should. And…” He swallowed, aware of the flush rising on his cheeks. “I feel I must apologize. So… I am sorry. But we should do more together, especially given that circumstances have escalated.”

Martin blinked at him for a moment. “You’re… sorry. For… being less… supportive than you should have been.” There was a hard-to-read undercurrent in his tone.

“For being… rude to you… and for punishing you…” Jon replied. “Unjustly.” He gestured to the recorder. “All of this… happened because of your adherence to my instructions…” He frowned. “So. I’m sorry.”

“Well,” Martin snapped, “at least you’re finally realizing that it was… unjust.” He glared at Jon, who suddenly felt pinned to the spot by eyes that were no longer soft but had gone hard as agates.

Jon blinked at Martin. “Are… are you alright?” He was apologizing! He couldn’t be messing that up this badly, could he?

Martin drew a long breath in through his nose. “Yeah,” he said, in a high-pitched, clipped tone. “Yeah, I’m fine.” He went to stand abruptly, pushing away from the desk, and in that same tone, “Well, you’d better get to… briefing people, then. I’ll just… go see how far my paycheck can stretch in Chelsea.” His tone was dripping with bitterness by the end.

Jon stood up. “Martin!” He was vaguely aware of saying it in the same irritated tone he always used for the man’s name, aware that Martin visibly flinched at the word, and tried to moderate his tone. “What is going on? I am apologizing! Is… am I missing something?” He moved around the desk to try to be sure Martin didn’t just leave without finishing the conversation.

“No,” Martin said, stopping while facing the door, tone still a good two octaves above normal. “No, it’s fine. You’re apologizing, and that’s good.” His whole frame was stiff, though, and his tone practically screamed “lying.”

Jon couldn’t read people all that well, but even he could read the signs Martin was giving off. “While your words are clear, your body language says quite otherwise.” He tried to moderate his tone again, but he couldn’t help sounding mildly irritated. He didn’t like being lied to, especially concerning his own actions, and he wasn’t sure what he had done incorrectly in this situation. “Now will you stop and talk to me?”

Martin turned away from the door, faced Jon, jaw set firmly. “What do you want me to say, Jon? Do you want me to… to forgive you? To say ‘oh, sure, you’re sorry, so that makes up for the last six months where you’ve made me want to quit my job every day?’ Am I supposed to… to… just… oh, well, there’s danger, so now you’ve realized I’m an actual person, now you’re going to stop kicking me around, now you’re going to pitch in to help around here as I’m not already the one spending all his time trying to clean up the mess while Tim and Sasha run out to research things so you don’t have to send anyone to double-check my work? Never mind that I’ve been trapped for two weeks, I could’ve been dead and none of you bothered to check on me!”

Martin was all but shouting by the end of the diatribe, every line of him stiff and furious, and Jon was suddenly very aware of the fact that Martin was taller and bigger than he was. He cringed away from Martin, took a step back. “I… I…” He turned away to his desk, grabbed his phone. “Here…” he said, handing it to Martin. “Look!” The phone would solve the problem, if Martin could just see… “There… I… just… please…”

The moment Jon had cringed away Martin had hunched his shoulders, deliberately making himself smaller. Now he was taking long, deep breaths, his expression ashamed. He reached out to take the phone from Jon.

The display was still on the screen of Jon’s message history with Martin. Before the last message from Jane Prentiss was a long list of messages from Jon--numerous messages inquiring about Martin’s health, worried and concerned. He had linked articles about foods to eat when feeling ill, then when he’d realized some of those might be hard for Martin to make alone, found new links that had easier recipes.

There were also, Jon knew, greyed-out deleted messages.

Martin, know that your presence is missed here at the Archives. I am wishing you a quick recovery.

I know it’s sudden, but I find myself missing you. Just thought you should know.

And others, so many others, as Jon had tried to figure out how to pierce the wall built by the texts he’d been getting back from what he now knew was Jane Prentiss, asking to be left alone.

As Jon watched Martin reading the messages he nervously bounced in place, one arm folded over his chest to hold the other. He could feel his skin glowing from embarrassment and he wasn’t even sure why. The blush faded, however, as he watched Martin. Watched the anger fade, and realized what lay underneath. The pain that had been underlying that anger, the way it lifted as Martin read through the message history--it was like a revelation. Martin must have walked in here convinced nobody at his place of employment really cared about him, and Jon realized that that was, indeed, what he must usually think, if something as simple as text messages was making something like hope bloom on his face.

It occurred to Jon, suddenly, that nobody had checked on Martin. For two weeks. No friends, no family. Nobody had even noticed the man was gone.

Jon had to fix this. Somehow. And not by wrapping Martin up in a fierce hug like he very much wanted to; that would not be appreciated from the man’s asshole boss. Even if Martin looked like he really, really needed a hug.

By the time Martin handed the phone back to Jon, his breathing was shaky and unsteady. He dropped back into the chair, like his legs suddenly weren’t working. “S-sorry,” he managed in the barest of whispers. “Sorry.”

“That’s… my line,” Jon said. “I am sorry. I should have said more to make it clear… you are a valued member of this team.” He shook his head, wincing at how… canned that line sounded, but pushed on. “I should have said it at least once. And… I never did. I held you at arm’s length and ostracized you. And… I understand how you felt all that time now…” He sighed. “And… yes, it may have taken this incident to make me realize how terrible a person I’ve been to you since… since you started working here.”

Martin stared down at his hands; Jon could see he was crying, but silently, without sniffling or sobbing. “Why?” he finally managed. He looked up at Jon. “Why? What did I… do? I mean… there was the whole ‘dog’ business at the beginning… what, do you hate dogs that much?” There was a kind of desperation in his tone.”

“No… I mean, sure I’m more of a cat person, but… no… I don’t hate dogs.” Jon frowned. “I… I’ve given that a lot of thought these past two weeks and I think I figured it out.” He sighed. “It wasn’t you I was angry with.” He took a breath. “I was angry at Elias. I like to have a sense of who I work with, to get to know them before I get into anything serious.” Oh, no, wait, that sounded… he hadn’t meant it like… work. He’d meant work! No, he was overthinking that; Martin knew he meant work. He stammered for a moment, though. “It’s… part of who I am… as a person.

Jon took a breath, to steady himself. Focus on the apology. “When Elias… placed you here without telling or consulting me about the selection process, it… felt like a betrayal. I felt that agency over my department had been taken out of my hands. And yes… I know he runs the Institute, but he should have at least consulted me about who is in my department.”

He dropped his head and reached to take a box of tissues from the side of the desk, to slide them towards Martin. An olive branch. “I took out that anger and frustration on you. And that was wrong, I know that now.”

“Not like I wanted to be here either,” Martin mumbled, reaching out for a tissue and wiping at his eyes. It didn’t do much to stop the tears. “I mean, I didn’t even want the damn library job, I j-just…” He stumbled, stammering, “It’s… it’s harder to get a position with a degree in parapsychology than you might think.” He sniffled. “B-but… even on top of that… you and Tim and Sasha, you’re all friends already, you requested them. Even if Tim and Sasha and I get along they don’t really know me, and you… well…” He sighed. “When Elias said I was going to work for Jonathan Sims I just about freaked out. You’ve got a… reputation, you know? I just… I knew it’d be… lonely down here, and it really has been.” There was a furrow between his brows now as he looked at Jon.

Jon frowned. He’d known he had a reputation around the Institute, but he hadn’t thought it was that bad. He took a deep breath; this wasn’t about him right now. “Then let us work on fixing that. Starting now. Like I said, we need to be working together more, improve the… office atmosphere. I… have come to admire your dedication to your work. ‘Due diligence,’ as you put it.”

Martin regarded him quietly for a moment. Then he said, “The thing that really bothers me… I don’t… I don’t think you’d understand.”

Jon frowned. Then, finally, softly, “Try me. You might be surprised.”

Martin swallowed. “I… I’m trans,” he blurted. “Like, I was… I had a girl’s name, when I was younger. Figured out I was a guy when I was a teenager, started hormones, and… well…” He took a deep breath. “My mum’s never approved, you know? She’s always been… difficult, she’s… sometimes she’ll… well, I mean, you know how parents will… say your name, right? Like, when you’ve… disappointed them.”

Jon’s frown deepened. He did not, in fact, know how parents said one’s name, but he could remember his grandmother saying Jonathan in tones of deepest disapproval when he’d come back from wandering off. So he nodded; he understood the feeling, at least.

Martin wiped at his eyes again. “The way she said my name… it made me hate my name. My deadname, I mean. But it… helped me realize I was trans, because when I thought about something else I’d want to be called, I came up with ‘Martin.’ And… and I’m kind of glad sometimes, that she… misgenders me, and refuses to call me Martin, because it means she’ll never, ever say it in that… disappointed tone. I have never regretted that choice, not once, until…”

Martin took in a long, shuddering breath, then straightened himself, looking Jon right in the eye. Like he knew what he was going to say wouldn’t go over well, but he had to say it. “The way you say my name, when you snap at me? It’s exactly like my mother says my deadname. And nobody has ever made me regret that choice. Not… ever.” He swallowed. “Until I met you.”

Jon stared at Martin for a long moment, horrified. He was non-binary himself, and yet he’d never changed his name, never even asked people to call him by different pronouns although he might have preferred it; he’d never had the courage to do so. He’d always been terrified of what people might think of him. Yet here was Martin, strong enough to change himself outwardly despite his mother’s disapproval, strong enough to keep coming in every day to deal with a boss who made him regret the name he’d chosen for himself.

In that moment, Jon felt very much like he did not deserve Martin Blackwood. That the Institute did not deserve Martin Blackwood. They would have to do better, somehow.

Finally he managed, “I’m… I didn’t know. I--” He curled his mouth in disgust. How did one respond to that? Do better? That was only a marginally acceptable platitude. “I will endeavor to change my tone.” He didn’t like that any better, but it was the best he could do.

Jon really, really wanted to offer Martin a hug. The man looked like he needed one. Tim would have offered a hug, workplace hugs could be acceptable… but, no, Jon was Martin’s boss, and Martin had just said how much he hated Jon--because if Jon reminded Martin of the mother who deliberately misgendered him, then he had to hate Jon--and who would want a hug from someone they hated?

There was something he could do to help, though. To pay Martin back, as it were. So he, too, straightened, and said, “Well. You were talking about how far your paycheck will stretch in Chelsea, but I think that will be quite unnecessary. Given that you encountered Jane Prentiss while in the line of duty, as it were, I think we can expense your essentials to the Institute without too much trouble.”

Martin’s eyes widened. “W-wait… won’t that… I mean… won’t Mr. Bouchard be… upset about that?”

Jon actually smirked. “Don’t you worry about Elias; I fully intend to take out my irritation about his habits as a supervisor on him instead of you from here on out.” Not directly, of course, but Elias would be irritated by the entire setup, and some petty part of Jon enjoyed that thought.

Martin was staring at Jon now. “I… I wouldn’t want you to… get in trouble…”

Jon waved a hand. “It’s the least I can do.” He stood. “Let’s get to the shops for toiletries before they close and then we can see about getting some clothing delivered. And, ahh, do you have any… prescriptions you’ll need…?” He was thinking about hormones. “I suppose I could send Tim ‘round to your flat, but I wouldn’t want to put him in danger either…”

Martin stood, hesitating. “I’ll… figure all that out. It’s alright. Really.”

Jon came around the desk to grasp Martin by the arms and look up at him, intently. It was the closest thing to a hug he’d let himself get to. “Martin,” he said, as gently as he could manage, with as much respect as he could manage, “you put yourself in danger because of the way your superiors at this Institute have treated you. Let me at least begin to partly repay that debt. Please.”

Martin was blinking down at him. “Uh… umm… aren’t we having… Mr. Bouchard repay the debt…?”

Jon smiled up at Martin as he dropped his arms. "Ahh, but we’re not going to ask Elias to come help clear out the breakroom. Can you imagine him moving boxes?” He could feel the smile edging into a grin. “His arms would break just from trying to pick one up.”

Martin had started to smile, hesitantly. That was what Jon had been going for; he hadn’t realized how much he actually liked Martin’s smile until he hadn’t been around for two weeks. “I-I mean… you’re not the biggest guy yourself… you might have the same problem.”

“Mmm, fair,” Jon replied, “but I am willing to scrub a floor if I must.”

Martin’s smile widened. “Y-yeah, I can’t imagine… Elias… scrubbing a floor.” He giggled, suddenly. “He probably pays people to do that stuff. He… he’d probably have been hopeless stuck in his flat for two weeks.”

Jon laughed at the mental image of Elias Bouchard stuck in a flat, living off canned meals, a laugh so full he actually threw his head back a bit. “Good lord, Elias, having to live off tinned peaches? Can... you... imagine?”

“H-he’d… probably… start shouting for Rosie.” Martin was giggling so hard he could barely get the words out. He put on a bad posh accent and said, “‘Rosie, why do we have all these tinned peaches? I did not approve this budget!’”

They both dissolved into helpless laughter, both reaching out to the other to hold themselves up. There was a moment, as the laughter waned, that their eyes met, and Jon felt something swoop and flutter in his gut. Martin had such a nice smile, and such a pleasant laugh, and it would be wonderful to have both around more often, and it was making him a little dizzy if he was being honest. When was the last time he’d felt that swoop and flutter? Georgie? Briefly, with Tim?

No, no, that was the laughter and the proximity. That was all. They were bonding over dislike of Elias. That was all.

At least he’d managed to clear the air.

Jon straightened, and kept smiling as he turned toward the door. “Come along, then, Martin,” he said, and again deliberately infused the word with as much respect as he could muster. “Let’s get to the shops.”

Martin nodded. “Thanks for this, Jon,” he said, and oh dear there was another swoop at the way Martin said his name. Had he always said it like that? Had Jon just not noticed? “Really. Thank you.”

Jon turned away to school his expression. This would not do. He was not going to let himself feel any more… swoops for a subordinate. It just wouldn’t do. No matter how nice of a smile he had. He did not have a crush on Martin, because he could not have a crush on Martin, and that was that.

Feeling a little better--it was always a relief, sorting out his emotions--Jon headed out to help Martin get settled into the Archives.

#the magnus archives #tma #jonathan sims #jon sims #jon the archivist #martin blackwood #jonmartin #jmart #otp: one way or another together #fanfic #my fanfic #canon tma fic #send help i'm in too deep #i owe the discord server at least two more fics already #GUYS HELP

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ibijau · 3 years

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How to Woo a Lan pt1 / On AO3

Jin Ling is determined to court Lan Sizhui, but can't seem to say two words to him without insulting him. He decides that what he needs is the help of someone who has already successfully seduced a Lan, and he knows something about Nie Huaisang that others don't.

It had been, to put it mildly, a bit of a wild year. Jin Ling had gone from being treated as a child by everyone who met him and being barely mature enough to be trusted alone on a Night Hunt, to having to behave like a full grown adult because he suddenly was the leader of a cut-throat sect that was half falling apart after the early death of its corrupt former leader.

Fifteen was never an easy age, but Jin Ling was pretty sure he had it a little rougher than most people.

Of course, it could have been worse. For one thing, he could have been dead. In fact, he had come pretty close to it a few times, most memorably when he was kidnapped and trapped in the Burial Mounds with other juniors, and when his beloved uncle Jin Guangyao had used him as a hostage and threatened to cut his throat open with a guqin string if he wasn’t allowed to run away after it was revealed he had murdered a number of people, like Jin Ling’s grandfather, and indirectly caused the death of others, like Jin Ling’s father. And then after that there had been a handful of other attempts on Jin Ling’s life once he had become sect leader, because he had older relatives who thought they’d be better at the job, or who other people thought would be easier to corrupt… but really, those attempts just hadn’t been very impressive.

Jin Ling had been raised by Jin Guangyao, so he knew a thing or two about avoiding poison. And he’d been raised by Jiang Cheng as well, so even at his age, there weren’t that many adults who could pose a threat to his life, should they directly attack him.

All in all, the murder attempts hadn’t been so bad. The paperwork and meetings, on the other hand, were the worst thing ever. There were so, so many letters to read, and to analyse, and to answer. And then there were Night Hunt reports. Tracking the progress of junior disciples. Bills. An astonishing number of bills, oftentime for things Jin Ling didn’t even understand, so he had to ask during meetings what the sect was spending money on this time. There was a forty percent chance that it was something frivolous he could cut off, and a fifty percent chance that it was just barely concealed corruption, but since there was the ten percent possibility of that bill being something actually useful, Jin Ling still had to investigate every single one, just in case.

With all this going on, Jin Ling was lucky when he could find an hour here and there to meditate, or work on his cultivation, or train Fairy. He had considered skipping sleep from time to time, but Jiang Cheng had heard about it, somehow, and rushed to Jinlin Tai to scream at him about being irresponsible with his health, as if he were any better. Everyone knew Sandu Shengshou ran on two hours of sleep, medical pills, and rage… but apparently Jin Ling wasn’t alone to do the same. Unfair.

Equally unfair was the fact that in the six months between Jin Guangyao’s death and Jin Ling’s fifteenth’s birthday, he had only gone on two night hunts.

The first was… not so bad. Jin Ling had been forced to have some other Jin disciples come along, which was boring, but then they’d all met up with some Lan and with Ouyang Zizhen, which had been pretty nice. Not quite as nice as it could have been if a certain person had been there, but not quite bad either, because Jin Ling had been able to chat with Ouyang Zizhen who was smarter than he looked, and to argue with Lan Jingyi who was fun to have a shouting match with.

And then, there had been that second Night Hunt. Jin Ling, still dealing with the aftermath of a slightly more efficient assassination attempt after which part of Jinlin Tai had really thought him dead for a good shichen and a half, had stumbled upon a man who had come to beg for the help of his sect and decided he’d help with that. He needed a break from his murderous cousins anyway.

So instead, he called the worst asshole he knew to help him deal with this, for fun.

And Lan Jingyi, for some reason known only to him, decided to let Wei Wuxian come as well.

That was the first problem, Jin Ling later decided. If Wei Wuxian hadn’t been there, things would have gone better. But he just didn’t really know where he stood with the man who had, technically, caused both of his parents to die and whom Jin Ling had, technically, tried to murder in return. The man who had also saved his life several times, without any hesitation.

Lan Jingyi knew that Jin Ling had mixed feelings about Wei Wuxian, who he hadn’t seen since the death of Jin Guangyao. So he had to have asked him to come along on purpose, because Lan Jingyi was a damn asshole and Jin Ling hated his guts, for all that he was probably his best friend at this point.

It wasn’t hard to be the best of something when you were almost the only one.

Anyway, Jin Ling should have guessed that Wei Wuxian would get involved in this, so it wasn’t such a surprise.

But then…

Then, when he arrived at the agreed meeting point, Jin Ling saw Lan Sizhui.

It had been six months, almost. In all that time, Jin Ling hadn’t once gotten any news from the older boy. He’d asked Lan Jingyi during that one Night Hunt, and then again when Lan Jingyi had needed to crash in Jinlin Tai some weeks later, in vain. All Lan Jingyi knew was that Lan Sizhui had gone away with Lan Wangji’s blessing, and that nobody could tell when he’d be back… or if he’d come back at all for that matter, which Jin Ling had found rather ominous. Sure, Lan Sizhui’s father figure had officially married another man, and not the best of men at that, but was it reason enough to run away? Did Lan Sizhui hate Wei Wuxian in particular, or did he have a problem with all cut sleeves? In the first case, it was understandable. In the second case, Jin Ling’s heart would be crushed forever and he would never know happiness again.

But Lan Sizhui was there, and standing next to Wei Wuxian when Jin Ling arrived, chatting with a peaceful yet happy expression and looking quite animated, at least by Lan standards. Jin Ling had the sensation that the two of them hadn’t met in a while, which Lan Sizhui personally confirmed later when Jin Ling had a talk to him as well.

Six months wasn’t such a long time, and yet it had felt an eternity. Lan Sizhui hadn’t grown during that time away, not exactly, but he had a new air of maturity to himself, a certain spark in his eyes that said he had seen more than most others his age. He was a little less willowy as well, his clothes fitting differently on him compared to before, hinting at more strength than he used to have. His smile, though, remained as gentle as ever.

Jin Ling almost cursed upon seeing him.

It seemed he hadn’t gotten over his stupid crush at all.

Thankfully, for most of this, Jin Ling was too busy with the actual Night Hunt to make too much of a fool of himself. It was a pretty weird situation, with a haunted room in which a thief had died, which then led to a story about a man who had killed multiple women in a very gruesome manner. Jin Ling thought they’d handled that pretty well, really. He even got to be a little cool when he volunteered to stay the night in that haunted room to check if the ghost had really been taken care of.

Of course it hadn’t, and that was absolutely terrifying, but Jin Ling kept his cool and got to show off to all those Lan disciples in the morning when he recounted what had happened to him. He thought Lan Sizhui looked a little impressed, but that might just have been because he’d been so sure he’d solved the situation with Lan Jingyi the day before. And Jin Ling was also the one to realise the ghost they were dealing with must have been looking for a certain missing body part, which they needed to retrieve if they were to solve the case.

All things considered, Jin Ling thought he had done really great during this whole Night Hunt, and properly demonstrated to everyone, but especially a certain Lan in particular, what a great mature person he had become.

Of course Jin Ling had to ruin that.

It was just the sort of luck he had.

Jin Ling’s only defence was that he’d been exhausted at that point. They’d just spent five entire days looking for a tongue that had been cut off decades earlier, and although it would have been wise to get some sleep before all heading back to their respective sects… but they were young, they were victorious, and the only adult around to supervise them was Wei Wuxian who firmly believed that Lan juniors should be encouraged to misbehave. So of course they had all gathered at an inn, ordered plenty of food, more drink than reasonable (but that was because Wei Wuxian had to be bribed into silence) and had a bit of a party to celebrate their success.

Because Lan Sizhui had been the one to find the ghost’s tongue, everyone wanted to sit with him, it was only natural. Jin Ling had to glare and bare his teeth and elbow a few people so he could sit next to his friend, while Lan Jingyi easily found his place on the other side of Lan Sizhui by virtue of having known him basically since birth. A most unfair advantage, and one more reason to dislike Lan Jingyi, who was luckier than he had any right to be.

Lan Sizhui didn’t appear to notice how much attention was on him. Or if he did, he pretended it didn’t affect him. He just seemed happy to be spending time with everyone, and to no longer be searching around for that damn tongue. Lan Sizhui laughed at other’s jokes, blushed at their praise, made sure that everyone had enough to eat, and just generally behaved like the most perfect person the world had ever known, which he was. Jin Ling was so delighted to have him back around, and happy to see him so admired by everyone else, so of course he had to let it be known in the worst possible way.

“Of course it’s Lan Yuan who gets all the glory,” Jin Ling said at one point, while pouring himself some wine. “Isn’t it always like this? I’m sure some people must have been glad you disappeared for so long, leaving the rest of us a chance to do something. But now that you’re back, I expect it’ll all be about you, right?”

“What do you mean?” Lan Sizhui asked, his beautiful smile falling down.

Jin Ling frowned at the question. What he meant was that Lan Sizhui was, and by far, the best cultivator of their generation, so it was only natural for people to admire him. Sure some others might envy his great skill, but that was their problem, and now that Lan Sizhui was back in the Cloud Recesses, of course he’d gotten back his rightful place in the spotlight.

What else could he have meant?

“I’ve said what I said,” Jin Ling replied. “Don’t pretend you don’t know.”

Sure Gusu Lan valued modesty, but someone as great as Lan Sizhui had to know how good he was at everything, so there was no need to be so humble.

“Shut up or I’ll punch you,” Lan Jingyi threatened, his tone vicious enough to catch the attention of Wei Wuxian who’d been mostly ignoring the juniors in favour of his own jars of wine.

Even Jin Ling was startled. It was common enough for Lan Jingyi and him to argue. In fact, that was their main bonding activity, they were always bickering, but there was rarely any actual anger to it. If anything, Lan Jingyi usually seemed to enjoy that he had someone he could snap at who wouldn’t scold him for breaking sect rules. But that night, he suddenly looked earnestly furious, and it puzzled Jin Ling.

Must have been the wine, he figured. Those Lan just couldn’t handle alcohol.

“Don’t drink if you can’t deal with it,” Jin Ling said. “And don’t get angry at people just because they’re right.”

Lan Jingyi jumped to his feet, but before he could say anything more, Lan Sizhui grabbed him by the wrist and forced him to sit down away. He had to have put some strength into it, because Lan Jingyi immediately obeyed.

“Jingyi, that’s enough,” Lan Sizhui said, rather more dryly than Jin Ling was used to from him. “If that’s how Jin zongzhu feels, then that’s how it is. I hadn’t meant to be taking the spotlight in an undue manner, and I am sorry if I gave the impression I seek attention. In the future, when working with Jin zongzhu, I’ll be sure to keep my distance to avoid bothering him so much. I thought we’d work as a good team, but…”

Lan Sizhui stood up, fists clenched tight on either side of his body.

“If Jin zongzhu really hates working with me, then of course I’ll respect his choice. Now if you don’t mind, I think I’ll go to bed now. I’ve had a pretty long day.”

He turned away and left the room, leaving behind him a suddenly heavy atmosphere. None of the juniors spoke for a good while, most of them staring at the door through which Lan Sizhui had left. Jin Ling in particular was flabbergasted, scrambling to understand what exactly had just happened there.

At his end of the table, Wei Wuxian snickered as he poured himself more wine.

“You really get your people’s skills from your uncle,” he said, not quite looking at Jin Ling, but quite obviously directed at him nonetheless. “And not the right one for that, might I add. That’s something for you to work on, I’d think.”

“I’m not hearing that from you!” Jin Ling complained. “You’re a weirdo who makes everyone uncomfortable!”

“And yet I caught myself a husband,” Wei Wuxian retorted, wiggling his eyebrows in a manner that should have been illegal around impressionable young people. “Clearly I can’t be so bad at dealing with people. I can give you some lessons, if you’d like? Could teach out to flirt even. Hanguang-Jun thinks I’m very good at it.”

All the juniors shivered in fear at the idea of flirting lessons from Wei Wuxian. Even Lan Jingyi threw Jin Ling a sympathetic glance, before remembering he had randomly decided to be furious at his friend and glaring at him.

“Who… who’d want lessons from you about anything?” Jin Ling exclaimed. Then, because he tried to be fair, he added: “Unless it’s about Night Hunting. You’re good at that, when you stop acting all goofy. But for everything else, you’re too weird! If Hanguang-Jun didn’t have such weird tastes to begin with…”

The Lan juniors exploded at the implication their personal hero Lan Wangji was anything less than perfect in all aspects.

“Watch it, Jin zongzhu!”

“Hanguang-Jun’s tastes are excellent for almost everything!”

“It wasn’t enough to be mean to Sizhui, now you have to also go after Hanguang-Jun?”

That last one puzzled Jin Ling, who blinked numbly, trying to understand at what point, exactly, he’d been mean to Lan Sizhui. Before he could ask about that, Wei Wuxian started cackling and thanked all the juniors present for approving of his marriage. This backfired when it turned out that the boys were, in fact, very supportive of the union, and had drunk just enough to not feel ashamed about it. Wei Wuxian, always so quick to tease others with great declarations of affection at a bad moment, completely collapsed under that unexpected wave of affection, which pushed the Lan juniors to be even more demonstrative, until everyone’s attention was on Wei Wuxian.

Jin Ling took his chance and left the table without being noticed, suddenly needing some fresh air. He couldn’t go very far, in case others started to worry, but he still left the inn and started walking up and down the street where it stood, trying to put some order in his thoughts.

He didn’t think that he had been rude to Lan Sizhui, of course. Or at least, he had certainly not intended to be. But between intentions and results there could be a world of difference, and it was true that Jin Ling was sometimes… he tried hard, he really did. He wanted to be as smooth as Jin Guangyao had been (though with less secrets), and he wanted to be as respected as Jiang Cheng was (though preferably without needing to resort on inspiring fear quite as much). But he had a tendency to sometimes say the wrong thing.

More than sometimes.

Things would be quite clear in his mind, and then he opened his mouth and said something that pissed off everyone. It didn’t usually matter too much, because he was Lanling Jin’s sect leader, meaning he had enough money and power that people wouldn’t dare get angry at him too openly. But it had always been more of a problem when it came to his personal life. He’d gotten in many fights with his various cousins over the years because they deemed him rude and proud.

With juniors of other sects, he didn’t really get along all that well either, for the same reason, not until everything that happened in Yi city the year before… and even that had more to do with the people he’d met than with any personal improvement. Ouyang Zizhen was just the sort of person who got along with everyone, even with spoiled brats like Jin Ling. Lan Jingyi was an awful little pest, but he hadn’t been scared by Jin Ling’s status in the least, so they’d quickly found a way to co-exist, even if most people didn’t realise they’d become good friends. And as for Lan Sizhui… well, he was the most perfect person in the world, patient in spite of Jin Ling’s temper, kind to everyone, always striving to bring peace around him, always willing to see the best in others.

Jin Ling stumbled, and nearly fell face first into the dirt of the street.

Lan Sizhui had really looked upset when he’d left, so Jin Ling really must have said something wrong. The most perfect, most patient person in the world, and Jin Ling had managed to make him angry. That really wasn’t a good way to start courting someone.

And he wanted to court Lan Sizhui. Seeing him again after a few months had only made it clear to Jin Ling that this wasn’t just a crush, it was love. He was in love with Lan Sizhui, and determined to make him fall in love back… somehow.

What he needed was… what he needed…

Somewhere behind him, the inn’s door cracked open, just enough for Wei Wuxian to peek outside.

“Jin Ling, it’s getting late!” he shouted, uncaring that he might wake up the whole street. “Everyone’s going to bed and you should as well.”

“I’m not tired.”

“Don’t make me come get you,” Wei Wuxian warned. “Come, you’ll feel better in the morning. Just apologise to Sizhui at breakfast and he won’t hold it against you, he’s a good boy like that.”

Mortified at the idea that Wei Wuxian might try to drag him to bed like a petulant child, Jin Ling made his way back to the inn. He was annoyed though. He’d been on the verge of a great idea when Wei Wuxian had called for him, and now he’d lost it. Hopefully, he’d remember later.

Right then, he just went to sleep as ordered.

In the morning Jin Ling apologised to Lan Sizhui, though he still wasn’t sure what he’d said wrong, and Lan Sizhui apologised back for reacting so strongly to a little bit of criticism. Jin Ling hadn’t dared to say he hadn’t meant to criticise, because then he’d have had to explain he was trying to compliment Lan Sizhui, and everyone was there watching them, and it would have been too embarrassing.

The Lan then left to head back to Gusu, while Jin Ling had to return to Lanling to write a report on this situation they had solved.

The whole time he flew towards home, he couldn’t help but wondered if he hadn’t somehow managed to ruin his entire love life at the ripe age of fifteen, just because his mouth and his brain couldn’t get along.

#zhuiling #lingzhui #jin ling #lan sizhui #xisang #though it won't be there until next chapter actually oops?#mdzs #jau writes #operation woo a lan #yeah this was my other big bang fic and i figured i might as well start posting that too #there's also one with nhs and xue yang but that one doesn't even have a presentable first chapter yet so it must wait a bit

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chalky · 3 years

Text

The Commodification of c!Tubbo

This essay is unnecessary but I think about it too much so here you go

At this point, y’all are probably sick and tired of me rambling about c!Tubbo, as this is about all my original posts are. But, I feel as though this is an important aspect of his character that is either swept under the rug or never given any second glance.

Whether intentionally or not, Tubbo has been constantly commodified by allies and enemies alike (don’t even get me started on the fandom, that’s for a whole other post). Like, throughout the entire story of the Dream SMP, Tubbo has been looked down upon as a yes man, sidekick, or extension of another character who is incapable of making decisions for himself, which is such a degrading thing to experience for so long and explains why his character values himself so little.

This is a long one, heads up!

I want to break up this dehumanization and commodification into three categories:

Tubbo is either a pawn (something to be used), a trophy(something to be owned), or a scapegoat(something to be blamed) to others.

Tubbo Seen as a Pawn:

Wilbur loved Tubbo, but his treatment of him during the Pogtopia arc was definitely sad to see. (Note: Wilbur was spiraling and his mental health was in shambles. He couldn’t help his paranoia and he deserved way better than the ending he got, but that doesn’t absolve the effects of his actions on others). First he took Tubbo on as a spy, a very dangerous role that landed him dead, but throughout Tubbo’s service Wilbur saw him as an obedient pawn, while not a loyal one. A pawn ready to turn to whatever authority figure commanded him best. His remarks about Tubbo being a yes man back this up, and the way he warns Tommy that Tubbo will betray them erases all of Tubbo’s identity and reduces it to that of a spy (again, this is born of Wilburs paranoia, this isn’t his fault).

Dream made it very clear that he regarded Tubbo as lesser than a toy, so obedient and trusting that he wasn’t worth keeping alive because he was so boring to him. The whole speech about Tubbo being worthless wasn’t even directed at him despite him being right there. Dream only addressed Tommy as if he was the one whose opinion on Tubbos fate mattered.

Jack Manifold literally used Tubbo’s trust to attempt to kill Tommy, saying that he was a sweet guy but way too gullible. No better way to treat someone as a pawn to further ones own agenda than by literally using them. (Him talking about how he’d be there to comfort Tubbo after the assisted murder of his best friend still mildly disturbs me).

Quackity managed to talk Tubbo into going through with the Butcher Army, using Tubbo’s power to further Quackity’s agenda (which, by Quackity’s own admission, did not revolve around the protection of L’manburg.) Quackity didn’t care that Tubbo was against violence, and pushed his concerns to the side in favor of his own ideas and kept comparing Tubbo to Schlatt whenever he acted in a way he disagreed with.

Speaking of, THE CONSTANT DISREGARD OF HIS DECISIONS AS PRESIDENT. His Cabinet never listened to him and lowkey every stream they had together was a bit frustrating to me (I’m also a sensitive bitch). They didn’t respect him in any way and undermined his authority UNTIL THEY NEEDED HIM TO SAVE EVERYONE’S LIFE. (Elaborated on in Scapegoat Category).

Technically, as much as I am a Tommy apologist, Tommy’s constant insistence that the Disc War needed to involve Tubbo kind of fits under this category. As much as Tubbo was happy to help, his involvement wasn’t really necessary, but Tommy needed someone to help him. This involvement nearly resulted in his willing death.

The only reason Dream even wanted to kill Tubbo, on top of perceiving him as useless, was to hurt Tommy and give him something of a “hero origin story” like Batman and his parents or Spider-Man and Uncle Ben. So, literally by Dream’s definition, he wanted to fridge Tubbo.

We could refer to Wilbur assigning Tubbo to presidency as Wilbur using him to make the explosion of L’manburg hurt more, but that feels like a stretch to me.

This may be a stretch, but after Tubbo is executed and Tommy starts getting mad at Technoblade, Wilbur eggs Tommy on by saying “Think of what he did to Tubbo,” while Tubbo is literally right there. His emotions on the event doesn’t matter to Wilbur, only how it impacted Tommy.

Tubbo Seen as a Prize/Trophy

The constant referral of Tubbo as something to be owned by someone, like during Wilburs speech of “he’s your Tubbo!”, is a bit off putting though I don’t think it’s meant to be malicious. Very rarely is the sentiment reversed, seen when Ghostbur gave Tubbo the Your Tommy compass, furthering the idea that Tubbo is an object, something to be sought after and secured with little opportunity for him to own something himself. It’s always “Tommy’s Tubbo”. Also when Schlatt gloated about having “his very own Tubbo”.

Tommy shows more possessive behaviors when dealing with the discovery of Ranboo and Tubbo’s marriage, asking about permission and insisting that Ranboo stole Tubbo from him. I’m sure this is subconscious, I know Tommy values Tubbo as a person but he still reduces Tubbo to an object to guard because he treasures his friend.

Another more vague example would be the fact that Schlatt exiled Wilbur and Tommy, but kept Tubbo as his right hand man even though it was clear he was on POG2020’s side. It was a way to insult Tommy, a way for Schlatt to add salt to the wound by keeping his best friend.

The Dream Team captured Tubbo very early into the Revolution, keeping him in a hole and holding him for ransom (this could be played off for laughs, I just remembered it). They also burned down his base, unrelated really but I remember it.

We could also count the way that Dream kept threatening to kill Tubbo if Tommy didn’t return the disc, but this feels like a mixture of pawn and prize, while still dehumanizing as it compares his value to that of music discs.

Yes, I am going to take c!Tommy joking about killing Michael to get Tubbo and Ranboo to break up so he can get Tubbo back seriously. The way he glared at Michael while holding an axe was just for the stream to see, if it was a joke I feel like he would have said it out loud. Even if it is a joke, laughing about taking something Tubbo loves away just to ruin his relationships is a bit yikes and frames Tubbo as something to be won back. You can ignore this if you didn’t see that moment as canon, but there are plenty of signs pointing to this being in character. (Also to be noted, Tubbo didn’t want to show Michael to Tommy, so Tommy ignored him and asked Ranboo instead, who immediately showed Tommy to Michael despite Tubbo’s clear worries)

Tubbo seen as a Scapegoat

His cabinet flip flopped back and forth on the decision to exile Tommy every five seconds. Whenever they spoke with Tubbo, they were all “You’re right! We’re going to listen to you! We have to do what’s right!” and then they hear a half baked plan and completely switch up on what they already agreed to do. (This happened twice. One at the sit down meeting where Tommy revealed Spirit and the cabinet joined Tommy in his mocking, only to blame him for how the meeting ended. Twice at the exile). So when Tubbo had to follow the original plan to, you know, make sure their country wasn’t put under lock and key until every citizen was eventually killed, his cabinet acted so shocked and betrayed and he was Schlatt and a dictator. It’s very true that he went against their plan (THAT THEY MADE FIVE MINUTES BEFOREHAND AFTER HAVING ALREADY AGREED TO THE FIRST PLAN FOR DAYS), but the way they treated him afterwards, as if he was a vile person for keeping his country safe, heavily impacted Tubbo’s mental state for a long time after. What I’m saying is Tubbo was set up to be the villain in that scenario, accidentally by his allies, and purposefully by Dream.

Tubbo was blamed for the destruction of L’manburg by Dream and a few others (also himself)

TUBBO IS CONSTANTLY BLAMED FOR THE BUTCHER ARMY ARC DESPITE IT BEING COMPLETELY THOUGHT OF AND LEAD BY QUACKITY (This is predominately fandom based).

The full blame for Tommy’s exile has rested on Tubbo (I will never forget Tommy calling him a monster), despite the fact he was manipulated and backed into a corner by Dream. Even when everyone has come to understand that Tommy was manipulated by Dream, the same doesn’t go for Tubbo and he’s hit with “imagine exiling your best friend” jokes many times.

Wilbur puts the decision of blowing people up at the festival on Tubbo’s shoulders, absolving him of the blame.

Schlatt made Tubbo tear down the L’manburg walls and the important signs so he could have to deal with the blame (though Quackity took the fall for this).

This is more theory based, but I fully believe Wilbur made Tubbo president right in front of Techno to egg him on to attack L’manburg. Since Tubbo would be the president, he would take the full brunt of Techno’s wrath (and he and Tommy did), and the destruction fell onto him.

So! With my text evidence we can see a recurring pattern in the way that Tubbo has been used by many people over the history of the server without much regard for his feelings. There are very few times when people besides Tommy ask how Tubbo feels about a situation, leaving him to his dark thoughts without anybody caring. Even during the Final Disc War, when Tubbo was literally moments from death, nobody asks how he is. Nobody (except Quackity once) checks up on him, and he builds up his community by himself. Until Ranboo came along, and I am not overexaggerating this, nobody was with Tubbo to support him. He had no support system and nobody cared. They just assume that he is always fine and if he wasn’t, it isn’t their place to intervene. Tubbo is just not respected, feared, or acknowledged unless he has someone by his side, or unless he’s doing something bad in which case he’s unhinged and evil and sure to have a villain arc.

This is just something to find interesting:

The only few characters Tubbo is actively involved with that hasn’t looked down on him as a sidekick or an object has been Foolish, Puffy, Ranboo and Technoblade. You could make an argument of how Technoblade referring to him as “government” could be dehumanizing but I don’t think I’ve actually seen him do that in character? I could be wrong though. Really, Technoblade takes him seriously, but way more seriously than c!Tubbo warrants. Like, he’s looking for a tyrant to beat up and Tubbo is literally just a guy with a lot of issues struggling to keep a handle on his cabinet, which I find funny. But, jokes aside, Technoblade saw Tubbo as a legitimate threat during his presidency and is respectfully cautious of him and his nukes presently, which is surprising to me. Ranboo adores Tubbo and all of his chaos that people are unaware of because they don’t get to know him well enough. Puffy just wants the best for all the kids of the server and knows how to be respectful of their feelings, and Foolish is respectful of Tubbo, if a bit annoyed and intimidated by him.

The point of this essay is just to show that there is a pattern to these things. This is how Tubbo is treated, this is why Tubbo is prepared to die for whatever because because he doesn’t feel he’s worth anything while alive, and this is why it’s frustrating to see characters call him a follower, pawn, or yes man. And here’s the thing: I DONT KNOW WHY THEY TREAT HIM LIKE THIS??? Why him? I can’t really find out why this started to happen.

To sum some things up, no I don’t think every character who treats him poorly is completely evil. Again, some of this seems to be subconscious, some of this could be argued to be OOC, I just wanted to bring this pattern to light.

#dream smp #tubbo #meta #tubbo appreciation #character analysis #jschlatt #dreamwastaken #I said I’d do an essay #here’s the essay

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