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whenisitenoughtrees · 4 years

Note

If you’re still doing these, 33 with Moceit? ALL the fluff with perhaps a little dash of angst?

@thatoneloudowl i was gonna do a dash of angst but then i knocked over the angst jar and spilled a couple cups so. there is a little more than a dash. but the ending! is fluffy! don’t worry!!

for 33. Sometimes, I just want to cuddle, okay? Is that so bad?

Title: like a puzzle (we fit)

Word Count: 3,328

Content Warnings: mention of disordered eating, self-isolation as a form of self-harm

(fic masterpost w/ ao3 links)

These days, Patton wanders the mindscape like a ghost. Frankly, Janus is beginning to find it annoying.

Or at least, he would, if the sight didn’t make his heart clench, didn’t make his stomach turn, didn’t make some unidentifiable emotion rise up within him, threatening to spill out before he even lets himself acknowledge it. And he’s not acknowledging it, if only because doing so while Thomas’ mental health is in such a precarious position is a risk he’s not willing to take. But that’s not enough to stop him from watching Patton out of the corner of his eye, not enough to stop him from tracking his movements, from taking in the way he seems—

Well. Bereft seems like a good way to put it. Bereft of his usual spark, his usual joy. And bereft in another way, too, because as the time passes, Janus realizes something else: Patton is isolating himself.

It’s fairly obvious, at least to him, so he’s surprised that none of the others have picked up on it— or perhaps they have, and they’re ignoring it, but that seems like a level of maliciousness that he doesn’t think that the so-called “light” sides are capable of. Because Patton is suffering, and he can’t imagine that they would let him go on in this way if they knew, even if they are angry with him. So, they’re not cruel, just oblivious, and if the situation were any different, Janus might laugh about the fact that he of all sides is the only one to recognize that something is wrong.

But this is no laughing matter.

Patton’s face is pale and drawn, his eyes watery, his smiles wan and fake. He’s grown thinner, too, if Janus isn’t mistaken, and that is yet another cause for concern; Patton is not the best cook in the world, but that has never stopped him from trying. The fact that he’s stopped cooking, perhaps even stopped eating, is worrisome, and the worst thing about all of this is that Janus isn’t entirely sure what to do about it.

He knows self-care intimately, all of its practices, all of its uses. It’s his job, and in theory, getting Patton to take better care of himself should be easy for him. But Patton has always been particular about deserving things, and Janus doesn’t know that he’s reached the level of relationship that would allow him to persuade Patton that he doesn’t deserve to be treating himself this way. He’s not sure that he’s could convince him of it outright, and while he thinks that manipulating him to come to that point of view might be doable, the idea leaves a sour taste in his mouth.

Already, his judgment is being clouded by sentiment. He wishes that he were more upset about it than he is.

But whether he knows what to do or not, something needs to happen, and an opportunity arrives soon enough. He’s lounging in the common room— and the fact that he has the freedom to do that now is still nothing short of spectacular, frankly, not that he would ever admit as much out loud— when Patton comes down the stairs, bleary-eyed, and goes to fetch a glass of water from the kitchen. He watches, curious, as Patton passes him with barely a glance.

It is instinct to follow him. Patton doesn’t seem to notice his presence, so he leans against the doorframe, observing quietly as Patton fumbles a glass from the cabinet, almost dropping it, and sticks it under the tap to fill with water. He considers saying something when Patton gulps down half of it in one go, and again when Patton sighs, bracing himself against the counter. But it feels like an intrusion, somehow, and the words won’t come.

So, he doesn’t say anything, preparing himself to jump in the moment that Patton turns and sees him.

Patton turns and sees him.

“Hello, Pa—”

But Patton flinches violently, and Janus is cut off by the sound of glass shattering on the floor. All thoughts of having a cool, measured conversation fly out the window.

“Shit,” he says, “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to— here, just let me—”

He steps forward, choreographing his movement so Patton can avoid him if he wants, but Patton is staring at the ground, his eyes wide as they flit across the glass now scattered on the tile. He doesn’t react as Janus takes his elbow, guiding him away from the glass shards, and he doesn’t react when Janus snaps his fingers, getting rid of the mess entirely.

Janus’ concern grows.

“Patton?” he asks. “Patton, are you with me?”

Slowly, Patton blinks. His gaze comes into focus, and then he smiles, a smile so clearly plastered on, so clearly fake that it sits like a physical weight in Janus’ gut.

“Janus!” he chirps. “Hi! Sorry about that, I’m not sure what came over me. Guess I’ve got a real case of butter fingers today.” He waves his hand, holding a Butterfingers bar between his fingers, and Janus frowns. He knows a deflection when he sees one, though he’s less certain that Patton realizes that he’s doing it in the first place. By now, he wouldn’t be surprised if it’s an ingrained instinct.

Look away, Patton is saying. Wasn’t that a funny joke? Pay attention to the joke, not to me. I’m alright.

“I should be the one apologizing,” he says. “I startled you.”

Patton laughs. “That’s alright,” he says. “Really, I guess I just wasn’t paying enough attention. Was there something that you needed?”

He maintains a blank face with an effort. “Do I need to have a reason to spend time with you?” he asks, and there is the first crack: a moment of bewilderment passing across Patton’s face, as if he can’t possibly believe that someone would want to be around him for the sake of his company. It’s a familiar look, a bitter one, one he would never admit aloud to having seen in his own mirror.

“Of course, I would love to talk to you,” he continues. “But only if you’re amenable.”

Patton squints at him, and this, too, is familiar ground, as Patton tries to figure out whether he’s sincere or not. He waits patiently as Patton’s expression folds into something just a little more genuine, tinged with relief.

“Sure,” he says. “I’d love to talk for a little while.”

Something sour coats Janus’ tongue; a half-truth, then, though which half, he can’t tell. Patton is almost as practiced in lying as he is, though his are so often self-directed. But for now, he will take the admission at face value, and as he walks over to the couch, Patton follows, settling on the cushions next to him, and that is what is important.

“In all honesty, I wanted to know how you were doing,” he says, keeping his voice as gentle and sincere as he possibly can. It doesn’t come naturally to him, but somehow, it is easier when it is Patton. Easier to open up, easier to express his true concerns. Easier to allow himself to care, and he wishes he didn’t have to read into that, but he knows very well what it means, even if he’s shelving it to be considered at a later date. “It’s been some time now since the wedding, but I couldn’t help but notice that you haven’t been spending much time around the others lately.”

The wince is so quick that Janus half-wonders if he imagined it. But no— it was masked quickly, but it was there.

“Well, you know how it is,” Patton says. “Everyone’s so busy lately, me included! You know, with Nico and all.”

Janus feels his chest fill with warmth at the mere mention of the name, though he keeps his infatuation off his face as well as he can. There is not a single side in the mindscape that isn’t taken with Nico, completely and utterly, and Janus is unashamed to count himself among their number. Nico is who Thomas wants at the moment, after all, and Janus is always eager to let Thomas act on his wants.

But bringing him up now is nothing more than another distraction, one that he sees through immediately.

“I don’t know at all,” he agrees, “But, Patton, I can’t help but feel as though this is something else.” He flicks through a couple of options in his mind, wondering what will get through to him the best. After a moment of consideration, he reaches out and places a hand on Patton’s arm. It’s awkward; casual physical contact is not something he’s particularly practiced in. But Patton doesn’t seem to mind it, or at least, he doesn’t move away, though he appears a bit startled. “You’ve moved past busy into outright avoidance.”

Patton’s jaw works. “I’m not avoiding—”

“Patton.”

Patton stops and looks at him for a moment. And then, he slumps in on himself, like a marionette with its strings cut. “Am I that obvious?” he asks, and he sounds so miserable that for a moment, Janus wants nothing more than to wrap him up in his arms and hold him until his pain goes away. An unusual instinct for him, but perhaps it makes sense; Patton has always liked hugs, as far as he knows, so it’s not unreasonable that his first thought would be to offer one.

His drive for self-preservation goes far beyond preserving himself, after all.

“Not really,” he says, “but you know how I’m so terribly unobservant.” He pauses, and then goes on, more quietly. “I won’t force you to talk to me if you would rather not. But we’ve had the conversation about repression before. Multiple times, if I remember correctly.”

Patton laughs, but there’s no warmth in it. Just something sad, self-deprecating.

“No, no, you’re right,” he says. “And I know it’s not good, I just—”

He waits, and Patton draws in a breath.

“I’ve been thinking,” he says, “about my mistakes a lot, lately. And I— I understand that it’s okay that I make them, and that I can’t be perfect, and as long as I try my best to fix things and do better then it’s alright, but it’s just that— Roman’s been so happy lately, you know? Because he finally got something that he wanted. And it just sort of hit me that I’ve been keeping him from having that for so long. He hasn’t been happy in so long, and I’m not even sure that anyone’s been happy in so long, and it’s all my fault because I’ve been saying that it’s wrong to want things for yourself, but it’s not really wrong at all and I know that now, but I just don’t know how to—”

“Patton,” Janus says, squeezing his arm, “please, breathe.”

Patton stops, looking at him, which isn’t exactly what he meant him to do, but he’s breathing, at least.

“Is this why you’ve been avoiding them?” he asks. “Because you’ve been worrying about this?”

Patton glances down, his hands twisting into the hem of his shirt.

“I just don’t want to hurt them again,” he says, voice small, and Janus is surprised at his own flash of anger. Who it’s directed at, he can’t say. The others, perhaps, for letting it get this bad. Himself, for not seeing it sooner.

“I understand that,” he says, “but even if you weren’t letting yourself magnify your missteps, which you are, by the way, you can’t possibly believe that they’d want you to hurt yourself instead.”

Patton jerks. “I’m not—”

“Oh, you’re not?” He breathes out sharply through his nose, trying to regain some of his composure. If this were any other side, he would feel comfortable in berating them from dawn to dusk, but Patton is too fragile for that right now. Even he can recognize as much. “Patton,” he says, softer, but firm, “when was the last time you ate?”

Patton’s brow furrows. “This morning,” he answers, “or— no. Wait. It had to have been— no, that’s not it either.” The corners of his eyes pinch as he tries to work through it, and while Janus has to admit that it is some relief to know that he hasn’t been denying himself food on purpose, the fact that the question is a difficult one at all is still very concerning.

“I—” Patton stops, stutters. “I guess I haven’t been very hungry lately. I didn’t think it had been that long—”

“It’s alright,” Janus interrupts, even though it isn’t, because there is an edge of panic beginning to creep into Patton’s voice, and he would like to avoid that if he can. “Well, we can work on it, at any rate.”

Patton’s hands are trembling. He pauses, considering for a moment, and then reaches out to take them in his. The contact is startling, despite the fact that he initiated it, and judging from the way Patton stills, the sentiment is shared. It is almost enough to make him pull away again, writing the venture off as a bad idea, but he doesn’t want to give Patton the wrong impression, doesn’t want him to assume that he stopped for any reason other than his own hangups about touch.

“That is,” he says, “if you’ll allow me to help. I can’t force you into anything. Ultimately, you’re your own person. Or rather, your own part of a whole person. But that means that the decision is up to you.”

Patton doesn’t reply. He’s staring at where their hands are connected, his face twisted into an expression that Janus can’t even begin to describe, and a horrible suspicion enters his mind.

Self-isolation can be a form of self-harm, too, and Patton has always been so tactile by nature.

“How long has it been since you last touched someone?” he asks, and Patton startles, yanking his hands out of Janus’ grip like he’s been burned. Janus tries not to let it sting.

“That’s not—” he says. “That’s not a big deal. I can— I don’t have to— and I didn’t want to bother anybody, so I—”

“Right, because asking people for a bit of physical contact is such a bother,” he says, his voice veering sharper than he intends.

“Isn’t it?” Patton asks, and Janus rears back at his tone. “Everyone’s dealing with their own things right now, so why should they have to help me on top of that? And besides, I’m clingy, and nobody—”

“Who told you that?”

Generally, he refrains from trying to murder his fellow sides, if only on the principal that they’re all needed for Thomas to function properly, but if it turns out that one of them has caused this, that one of them has called Patton clingy, made him think that seeking out affection when he needs it is somehow wrong, or a burden on others, then he refuses to be help responsible for his actions.

“No one had to tell me that,” Patton says. “But it’s true, isn’t it? I’m too much, and I’ve been trying to be better about that too, but it’s just—”

No.

No, no, no.

“No,” he says. “It’s not true. You’re not too much, not when it comes to things like this, and anyone who has ever told you otherwise is wrong. No—” He raises a hand when Patton goes to cut him off, though he doesn’t actually exercise his silencing ability. Repressing Patton now would be the exact opposite of helpful. “And that includes yourself.” He reaches out and takes Patton’s hands again, holding on tight. He can feel how tense Patton is, how every muscle in his body has stiffened.

“Please,” Janus says. “Tell me what you want.”

Patton’s eyes well up with tears. His lips quiver. The silence stretches on.

And finally:

“I— sometimes, I just want to cuddle, okay? Is that so bad?” It’s a whimper, a plea, and really, Janus is absolutely going to kill each and every last inhabitant of the mindscape for neglecting Patton like this, for allowing him to believe that something so simple as cuddling him would be a chore, would be too much. He’s going to kill them, but later, because here and now, Patton needs him more than he needs any acts of violence, no matter how well-deserved.

“Of course it’s not,” he says, and hopes that the sincerity comes through, hopes that Patton doesn’t assume he’s lying. “Come here.”

And even as he draws Patton closer, he begins to panic. He has never done this before, never been asked to do this; generally, the others have always assumed that he likes his space, and usually, that’s true enough that he’s never bothered to correct the notion. It’s had the added benefit of keeping Remus at arm’s length when he’s difficult to handle, but he would be lying— ha— if he said that he’d never considered the drawbacks before now, never let himself wonder what it would be like to have someone else so close to him.

He’s never cuddled. Never been cuddled, never cuddled someone else. So really, he is possibly the absolute worst side for Patton to be stuck with right now.

But he’s what Patton’s got, so he tugs Patton up against his chest, wrapping his arms around him. Patton makes a noise, something between a gasp and a whine, but it only takes a second for him to melt into the touch, all of his weight landing firmly against Janus’ body as he goes limp as a ragdoll.

It’s an awkward position. He doesn’t know anything about cuddling, but he’s fairly certain that it’s supposed to be more comfortable than this.

He wonders if the fact that he feels like his skin is on fire is typical, or if that’s just him. A consideration for later, maybe, though his heart is beating almost too fast to ignore.

“Here,” he says, “let’s—”

He pulls back, heart panging at Patton’s soft whimper, but he settles himself on the couch, a sprawling position halfway between sitting and lying down. He beckons, then, and Patton wastes no time before lurching forward, draping himself along Janus’ body, and this— this feels right, somehow, their limbs slotting into all the right places, curving against each other, and Janus places his hands on Patton’s back to keep him in place. Not that he needs to; Patton doesn’t seem to want to go anywhere.

Patton tucks his face underneath his chin, resting against the hollow between his neck and collarbone. Janus has to suppress a whimper of his own. He’s never been touched there. Not ever.

He feels himself melting into Patton just as much as Patton is melting into him. It’s new, and strange, and a bit terrifying, but he doesn’t want it to stop.

Patton lets out a sigh, long and low. “‘M sorry I was being dumb,” he murmurs, words barely intelligible.

“It’s not dumb to be scared, or to have self-doubt,” he replies, though it’s a struggle to make himself coherent. His brain feels mushy, his thought processes slow, like wading through knee-deep water. “You’re wrong, of course, but it’s not dumb.” He pauses. “And it’s definitely not dumb to want someone to take care of you.”

“‘M glad you’re here,” Patton mumbles. “I’m glad it’s you. Thank you, Janus.”

Something in his chest bursts, warm and brilliant, and he doesn’t think it’s the contact.

“Of course,” he says, fighting to speak past a mouth that has gone very dry. “Anytime.”

Patton shifts, snuggling closer, and he wonders if Patton realizes just how much he means it. Because he does, perhaps more than he has ever meant anything else.

He’s not ready to say it, yet, though. Not yet ready to make it known, to open himself up to that. So, for the moment, he holds Patton against him, and lets him rest. Safe, warm, and though unspoken, loved.

General Taglist: @just-perhaps @the-real-comically-insane @jerrysicle-tree @glitchybina @psodtqueer @mrbubbajones @snek-boii @severelylackinginquality @aceawkwardunicorn @gayerplease @elizabutgayer @dwbh888 @thatoneloudowl @sanderssides-angst @gayboopnoodle @wildfire5157 @ldavmp4 @a-ghostlight-for-roman @sammy-is-obsessed @imlovethomassanders @a-yeet-bop-bop-boom @halfords-hysteria @random-fander @addykatb @i-cant-find-a-good-username @intruxiety @maybedefinitely404 @arya-skywalker @thefivecalls @nerdy-emo-royal-dad @bisexualdisaster106 @teacupfulofstarshine @neo-neo-neo @lollingtothemax

#sanders sides #ts sides #moceit #janus sanders #ts janus #patton sanders #ts patton #my fic #long post #cat does prompts #they're soft your honor

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miss-authorcita · 3 years

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A/N: So, I'm obsessed (once again) with Taylor's Fearless album and I've decided to write one shots of each of the songs. They probably won't be that good cause I'm literally just writing them down and posting them. (No spellcheck, no beta reader, no nothing) I just wanna get back to writing and this came to mind.

SUMMARY: It's been almost 2 years since Civil War. You and Steve have grown closer while on the run, but you can't help missing the roller coaster love you and Tony shared. (Inspired by: That's The Way I Loved You)

I was sitting by the window of my ratty Motel room, simply staring at the wet cobblestones of the empty street barely lit up by two lamp lights. My thoughts kept drowning me, it was a new thing with me when I was alone. I made so many mistakes in my life and now the solitude seemed to bring them all to the forefront of my mind.

A knock brought me out of my stupor and I was instantly in alert, gun out of its holster and aiming towards the door.

"Y/N, it's me and Nat." Steve's voice was heard muffled by the wood.

I relaxed, letting my shoulders fall. I reholstered my gun and unlocked the door, letting both of them step into my room. As soon as I locked the door behind them Steve pulled me by the waist and kissed me. Just a quick peck. I blushed and stepped away.

"I got you something." He smiled and pulled out a packet of skittles from his pocket.

I couldn't help, but smile. "I haven't had these in years not since..." I trailed off not wanting to mention his name.

Steve nodded and kissed my forehead.

"I have to stop by Wanda's and Sam's just to check in. I'll be back later tonight, alright?"

I nodded still staring at the bag of skittles in my hand. Steve opened the door and waited for Nat to walk by first. She stopped beside me and squeezed my forearm making me look up. She gave me her signature side smirk. She always voiced her support. She was mine and Steve's biggest shipper.

After the two of them left, I waited till I couldn't hear their footsteps anymore before collapse on the bed. Once again, while in solitude, I let the memories of my mistakes flood my mind.

It was a few hours later when Steve knocked on my door again. I opened and stepped to the side to let him in. He locked up and once again pulled me towards him by my waist. This time he just holds me.

"I know this life is hard. I know how hard...how difficult leaving was..." He's hesitant with his words, always sensible and caring of my feelings.

I just nod, unable to use words, afraid I'll just start sobbing.

"You know I'm doing everything I can to make this as easy for you as possible, right?"

I pull back and stare up at him. I let my hand caress his bearded jaw as I look deep into his blue eyes. "I know, Steve and I appreciate it so much" I whisper and stand on my tip toes to kiss him.

I fall asleep in his arms that night like many before and again like many times before we have to leave suddenly. Sam is the one to wake us, urgently banging on the door. We'd been tracked and we needed to move out quickly. All of us are out of the building in less that 15 minutes. We head to our cars and Steve opens up my door, helping me step in like a true gentleman.

"You look beautiful tonight." He says with a grin and I roll my eyes with a chuckle and close the door. He jogs to the driver side, and we're all off to find our next hideout.

The ride is long and before I know it I've fallen asleep.

"Tony!" I yell as soon as the elevator doors open. "Tony Stark!" I shout once again.

"What!? What!? Why are you shouting?" He asks, coming out of the kitchen. His hair is wet , he's wearing a black tank top and sweats and holding a bag of chips.

"Why am I shouting!? Have you seen the news!?" I yell again. His confused face only makes me madder. The rage is building like the rain and thunder outside like it's mimicking my mood.

"I was showering...so no?" He smiles and that is the last straw. I explode, my voice basically shrill.

"All the news channels are showing the explosion! The one of the building you and the Avengers were in! They don't show you guys coming out of it! I called Tony!"

"Sweetheart, I'm fine. I'm alive." He says like my tone isn't a very obvious clue to my state of mind.

"You didn't answer when I called! You what? Came home, showered and were gonna eat fucking chips! Did you even think to let me know you were okay!?" I couldn't seem to lower my voice even if I wanted to. I was so upset.

"I was gonna call you as soon as I sat on the couch." He excuses.

"Fuck you, Tony Stark!" I hissed and started walking to the elevator to leave.

"Friday close access to the elevators." Tony said as he made his way towards me. I dodged him and made my way to the doors that led to the hall.

"Friday if you could, please." At his command the padlock turned red, obviously meaning they would not open, at least not for me.

We stood a few feet apart, me glaring and him smirking. I must've lost my mind that night because I looked out towards his Ironman platform and made a run for it. He followed me out, both of us instantly soaked by the rain. He grabbed my arm and pulled me to face him.

"Are you insane!? What was your plan!? To jump off of the building!?" He yelled over the roar of the rain.

"You're the one who locked all other exits."

"I was bloodied, bruised and covered in soot and cement and dust, okay!?" His change of tactic threw me.

"What?" My eyes were wide. This whole conversation was an unpredictable rollercoaster.

"That's why I didn't call you. I...didn't want to scare you. I don't want you to worry eveytime I go save the world...So I came here, hid the suit, cleaned up and then I was going to call you."

"I always worry about you, Tony."

He sighed and looked away from me. I'd always known his fear. He lost Pepper because she couldn't handle his Ironman life, so he tried to keep me out of the loop thinking he was helping, but it wasn't.

I stepped closer and wrapped my arms around him. "Call me. It helps me to know how you are. Even if you're bleeding out." I said locking eyes with him

He chuckled. "I'll be sure to do that. I love you, Y/N."

"I love you too, you insufferable man."

And with a laugh he kissed me in the rain at 2am we were so in love back then.

"We're here." Steve's voice roused me up from my dream, or more like memory.

"Where is he? I mean 'here.' Where is here?" I ask still groggy.

"One of Nat's safe houses." Steve fills in and starts unloading the car.

I'm not sure if it was the dream, but the memory of Tony crushed my mood. Steve must've noticed my shift because he asked if I wanted to sleep alone tonight and I agreed. They're so different that sometimes it's shocking to me. Steve respects my space, Tony was always there even when I didn't want him to, but always needed. Steve has never made me wait, Tony was known for being late. I started telling him the wrong time to try and trick him into arriving on time. They're opposites. Steve gets along so well with Nat who is basically my sister, while her and Tony were never the best of friends. Steve is just charming and endearing and even while being on the run for almost 2 years he's managed to make me feel comfortable. But I can't help it, I miss Tony.

It's while sitting on my bed alone, opening my bag of skittles that the tears come as I remember him. I fall asleep, sobbing that night.

I had been sitting in the couch for an hour. Dressed amazing if I may add. Heels and everything which I hated and he wasn't here. He was always so late and I was more than frustrated. I heard the elevator doors open and I didn't even glance. I was gonna strangle the man.

"I know I'm late. I'm sorry, I was--"

I interrupted his apology "Let me guess, you got tied up in the lab? Again."

"Actually no."

His answer suprised me and I turned to glare at him, but my eyes widened when I saw him holding a huge jar full of red skittles.

"W-what is that?"

He smiled and walked closer to me, setting the jar on the table next to the couch.

"I know you only like eating the red ones so ta-da."

I laughed. "Are these the reason you were late or are these a gift to make up for being late?"

"A little bit of both? I forgot to pick the order up earlier today...cause I got tied up at the lab...so I went to pick them up after and that's why I'm late."

I sighed and kissed him. "You drive me insane."

"But that's the way you love me." He teased.

I nodded and kissed him. That's the way I loved him.

As I sit outside with Steve, leaning on his chest, I can't help but wonder if he knows. My smiles aren't real, and I've gone numb over the months. I barely feel anything anymore. The numbness worsened after we started whatever this is. Steve has always been looking for someone to fill the emptiness since Peggy and conveniently I needed a balm for the pain of losing Tony. We weren't in love, or at least I hoped he didn't love me...because my heart doesn't feel anything anymore.

"You're...you're siding with him?" The crack in his voice made me wince.

"Tony, I can't sign the Accords."

"Why not!?"

"You know what being under the governments control has done to me!" He knew of my past, of the millions of tests I was subjected to, the betrayal, the rules that were only there to hurt me. I'd confided in him every dark moment.

He sighed and rubbed his eyes. "We need to be held accountable." He repeated to me what he'd said at the conference room.

"I know, but not like this. Tony--" I went to touch him and he flinched away. That simple move broke my heart.

"If you side with him, it'll break us."

"Tony..."

He locked eyes with me, begging me to stay, but I didn't. I couldn't and I lost him.

I had decided that morning that I needed to talk to Steve. He was my friend before we became anything more and even if it meant making our runaways situation awkward, I needed to be honest with him. I couldn't keep sleeping wrapped in his arms. He needed to know that my heart belonged to Tony. He needed to know that I spent my days dreaming up plans of how I could see him without getting arrested. He needed to know that I looked for him in every person we passed by. He needed to know...or at least I needed to tell someone. I took a deep breath and started walking towards him when a ring broke the peaceful morning silence.

He looked at the number on his burner phone before locking eyes with me. "It's Tony."

#tony stark x reader #tony x reader #avengers x reader #avengers imagine #tony stark imagine #ironman x reader #ironman imagine #steve rogers x reader #captain america x reader #post civil war

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kuroosdumbslut · 3 years

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when you have to use your safeword w/ Kuroo, Daichi, Iwaizumi, Oikawa

*warning for sexual themes, but nothing explicit*

Kuroo:

he was a little rougher than normal today, and you weren’t complaining at first!

but it started to become too much and you started to feel more pain than anything so you called out the magic word: oxygen

kuroo stopped immediately, waiting for a moment before pulling out and backing up a little to give you room to breathe

when he noticed you started tearing up, he quickly was beside you, cradling you and rocking you gently in his arms

you’d never dropped into subdrop but it was...pretty jarring to experience

kuroo wont leave your side unless you ask him too; he’ll run you a bath, give you a massage, food, you want something? he’ll get it for you

be prepared to be pampered for the entire week, poor kuroo feels so bad about what happened, even though you both put a safeword in place for these instances, he cant help but feel like he really fucked up

he may need reassurance too, but even then he wont stop pampering you for a while

Daichi:

it was during a scene, one you’ve done before but with a little added roughness to hopefully try to block out the stressful day you’ve had

you’d had a rough day and thought maybe playing and doing a more rough kind of scene would help you unwind and relax, and daichi agreed, but not before making sure to go over the safewords and check in colors with you

now, usually degrading is super fun for you and the “punishments” even more so, but today it just felt...awful

you’ve teared up during scenes before, but you started sobbing, shakily saying “red” when daichi paused to do a check in with you

he understood that bad days happen, and he understood that sometimes, where sex helped previously, sometimes it does the opposite and makes it worse

he’ll undo any restraint you both decided to use, massaging the tense muscles and little imprints to get the bloodflow back, and today he opted for a shower instead, holding you securly in his arms as he helped clean you up, letting you cry it out for a while

it’s not the first time you’ve had to stop a scene, but its the first time you’ve had to stop where you just broke down

daichi knows not to take it too personally, knowing you probably had somethingnon your mind or something that happened during the day that made it harder to enjoy what usually has you shaking with pleasure

he makes sure to absolutely spoil you, food, snacks, movie marathons, hell daichi would even call out of work for a few days if you really wanted him to

Iwaizumi:

you’re use to iwaizumi being a little on the rougher side, you liked it that way!

so, when he brought up the idea of trying something nee, you were all for it, albeit slightly nervous just because it’s new territory for you

safewords in place as always, he began, and at first, it felt amazing

but that anxiousness wasn’t ebbing away like it usually does, so you tap twice to his side, saying “apple”

iwaizumi stops everything and looks at you, asking whats wrong. he nods in understanding when you confess that you’re just too anxious to continue exploring this new kink/fetish/toy and just want to cuddle for now

iwaizumi is super understanding and knew going into it that it would be a 50/50 chance if you liked it or not, and he’s more than happy to just cuddle, its one of his favorite things to do with you

so, all the sex items are put away, you both get cleaned up and jump into some comfy clothing and cuddle up on the couch to continue watching whatever show you’ve yet to finish

expect him to be quietly mumbling how much he cares about you and how he’s so glad you aren’t afraid to tell him to stop when you need to

he really, honestly could care less about getting his rocks off; he’d rather make sure you’re doing okay physically, mentally, and emotionally

Oikawa:

it was a normal sexual encounter with oikawa; no toys, no kinks, no fetishes

you felt a little off for the day, but brushed it off as you being stressed, and oikawa was more than happy to help you unwind

he treated this time the same as if you’re getting tied up and spanked; he went over the safewords, color code, hand taps if you’re too overwhelmed to speak

you loved that he did that, it made you feel so safe, but for some reason. today just wasnt the day for sex

while everything felt fine, you just werent in the headspace to continue having sex

“volleyball” he paused immediately, checking you over before even asking what was wrong to make sure you weren’t in pain

with an exhausted giggle, you assured him that you just weren’t in the mindspace to continue having sex, requesting instead to get comfy and have some dinner while cuddled up on the couch

oikawa placed a sweet kiss to your forehead, happily agreeing. secretly, hes so relieved he didn’t hurt you or cause you to be uncomfortable, so he helps you up, keeping an arm around your waist in case your a little shaky on your legs, and helps you clean up, passing you your favorite sweats, a shirt and your bed jacket for extra comfort

if you want him to make food, he will gladly make it for you, and if you’re in a take away mood, he’s on the phone ordering from your favorite place

similar to iwaizumi, he will praise you and express how happy he is that you’re not afraid to tell him when you arent in the mood anymore (i hc that hes had encounters where the other person wasnt honest with how they felt during sex and used it against him during the fallout even though they were the ones lying and saying it was all good when he asked)

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itsclydebitches · 3 years

Note

Tbh I sometimes feel RWBY would definitely benefit more from... explaining its power system, and have characters explain what they're doing. The only one we've gotten in eight seasons was Penny about Ruby's semblance in V8C3. Closest past that was the training montage in V7, which basically amounted to "I dunno, works for me".

Also on the topic of semblance evolution; what do you think about the idea of Yang's hair and eyes glowing blue as an evolution? It seems to be a popular idea.

Oh, hard agree. I know it's a common complaint leveled at critics nowadays, this idea that the show needn't hold your hand, but there's a rather significant difference between treating the audience as incapable of critical thought and/or bogging the story down with an unnecessary amount of exposition... and simply refusing to clarify crucial world building points. RWBY is well into the latter. There's a reason why schools are such a popular setting for magic/sci-fi stories — it allows the author to impart knowledge to the audience under the guise of the characters receiving the same information via education. There's a reason why so many magic/sci-fi stories feature a prominent, ignorant character — it allows the author to impart that knowledge with the implication that of course everyone in-world knows this already... just not this one person for specific, established reasons. Isn't it convenient that by explaining things to them we, the audience, learn them too? And there's a reason why RWBY features both these tools: Beacon and Jaune. So it's not that our authors don't understand how to have characters explain what's happening in a believable way — Oobleck gives a lecture on Faunus history, Pyrrha info dumps about aura, etc. — but that they themselves are now unclear about how their world functions. How exactly do semblances and aura work? I don't think RT knows anymore, which is why aspects keep changing, are couched in rumor, additions are accepted without question, or questions are ignored entirely. How does the Staff work? I don't think they knew until this volume, which is why we ended up with an explanation minutes before the characters used it — and why the explanation of how Ambrosius functions vs. what Ambrosius actually does on screen is so out of synch. Yeah, the characters should absolutely explain what is going on, like they used to in the early volumes, but that first requires that the writers make those decisions and stick to them.

And I hadn't heard that idea about Yang before! I'm... on the fence? On the one hand, I like the idea of her literally getting hotter like the blue in a flame, as well as the fact that it would visually connect her with Tai. I mean yeah, they already look similar given their hair color and outfits, but it would be cool for a powered-up Yang to have eyes the color of her mom's and hair the color of her dad's eyes. On the other hand, still thinking aesthetically, that would really mess with her already dwindling color scheme. Not that anyone but Ruby is really adhering to their primary color anymore, but blue is still pretty out there for Yang (it would thrill the freezerburn fans though lol). It would also be a pretty out there semblance change for an already strange semblance. Yeah, yeah, Ruby literally turns into rose petals, but at least they're still red. Blue hair on Yang would be kinda jarring imo and, ngl, but my immediate thought was, "Oh, so she's really just a Super Saiyan then. Lighten the blue enough and it'll look like Ultra Instinct..." I know there's been talk recently about when RT's interest in anime homages turns into outright copying, so I guess it would just depend on whether it feels like RWBY has made the idea their own and, frankly, whether it looked good. Blue hair could look awesome. It could also look incredibly stupid. Get a decent design going and that's something that can easily fall under our Rule of Cool. Ren sees pretty colors in a B&W landscape in Volume 8 and Yang's hair goes blue in Volume 9. Sure, why not lol

#rwby #mymetas

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i-like-plan-m · 3 years

Note

So mxtx confirmed that wwx cultivates mxy vote back to the strength of his og one. Maybe one day him and lwj are training and wwx finally manages to beat him for the first time since getting his new body! Or wwx secretly cultivates it more and surprises lwj with how strong it is now! Either way lwj is definitely turned on by wwx beating him~

what!! i did not know that but makes me so happy 🥺[Posted to Ao3 here]

Lan Zhan walked the mountain path into the Cloud Recesses, tired from his travels but satisfied with the trip to Lanling, where Jin Ling had managed to look him squarely in the eye exactly twice during the week. An improvement, certainly, but still a source of bemusement for Lan Zhan.

Why Jin Ling was so afraid of him he didn’t know; Wei Ying suggested it was his “absolutely terrifying resting bitch face,” but if that were the case then the actually insufferable sect leaders might leave him alone for once.

Wei Ying would be delighted to hear his nephew had handled himself admirably at the conference of minor sects around Lanling. Lan Zhan had come in his capacity as Chief Cultivator to provide some level of extra authority and support, but also to hear the complaints and troubles the small sects faced. It had been Jin Ling’s idea, and one that bought him a great deal of goodwill from his neighbors.

Now, though, Lan Zhan was going to go home, where his husband would be waiting for him. Where their home would be warm and lit with dozens of candles for light, the door left open in defiance of the descending cold to welcome him home.

He had to pause, then, and take a breath. He was getting used to this fierce, almost painful feeling in his chest. Happiness was a foreign concept to him, and now it bled into every moment, brightened every day. It was overwhelming, sometimes, his heart full of hope and joy rather than anguish and grief.

Lan Zhan heard the sharp call of a whistle, and looked up to find the reason for his happiness standing on the rooftop, wearing white robes that made him look like a star descended from the sky, rays of moonlight cast lovingly across his features.

“Wei Ying,” he said, a smile wrinkling the corners of his eyes.

“Lan-er-gongzi,” Wei Ying said, and made Lan Zhan pause. Blink up at him in question.

A smile spread across his husband’s face, sly and impish. Wei Ying lifted a hand to inspect the two bottles of Emperor’s Smile dangling from his grip. He shifted in place, and the sword in his hand caught the glint of moonlight with a bright flash.

Lan Zhan’s breath caught, and he understood.

This was an invitation. A repeat of history, of sorts, of a night that Lan Zhan would never forget. Except this one would be without the tragic ending-- one in which he would return to the jingshi with his husband, where they shared a life together. It took a moment for him to find his voice.

“Alcohol is forbidden in the Cloud Recesses,” he said sternly, and caught the flicker of delight across Wei Ying’s face when he realized Lan Zhan was going to play along.

“Oh? What are you going to do about it?”

Lan Zhan leaped onto the rooftop, Bichen in hand. Wei Ying had been improving steadily as he cultivated Mo Xuanyu’s golden core, though he hadn’t been sparring with Lan Zhan often lately. He seemed to get frustrated with his inability to keep up, as though the limits of this new body were holding him back.

This was an invitation, though, and not one Lan Zhan would ever turn down.

They stood on opposite sides of the rooftop, watching each other. Wei Ying’s playful smile softened at whatever he saw on Lan Zhan’s face.

“Remember this, Lan Zhan?” He wiggled his eyebrows and waved the Emperor’s Smile tauntingly in the air.

“I remember,” Lan Zhan said, and if his voice was thick with emotion neither of them mentioned it.

“Oh? What happened next, then?”

“We fought. You lost.”

Wei Ying cocked his head. “Did I?”

“You did.”

“Hm. That I don’t remember.”

Lan Zhan’s mouth curved. “Convenient.”

“Isn’t it?” Wei Ying agreed. “I do remember the bottle you smashed, though.”

“You told me to pay you back for it,” Lan Zhan said with fond remembrance of Wei Ying’s sheer audacity. “And then we fought.”

“We did, didn’t we?” Wei Ying murmured. “You don’t seem so angry now, Lan Zhan. Think you can keep up?”

Lan Zhan’s pulse quickened at the challenge in his husband’s voice, an automatic response to Wei Ying’s suggestive tone-- but also at the dare thrown at his feet, with the ceaseless moon as their only witness.

It had been months since they’d last sparred. He looked forward to discovering Wei Ying’s progress.

“Give me the bottles,” he said, drawing Bichen.

Wei Ying grinned at him, sharp and defiant. “Come and take them.”

Lan Zhan lunged.

His husband had made more progress than he’d expected-- Wei Ying dodged the swing, twisted around on one foot with perfect balance, and danced away behind Lan Zhan’s back, all in the span of a few heartbeats.

He’d always been fast, in this life and the previous.

So was Lan Zhan.

He followed Wei Ying across the rooftop with sharp focus, tracking the blindingly swift movements as Wei Ying darted in and out of reach, deflecting Lan Zhan’s advances with a still sheathed Suibian.

“You’ve gotten slow in your old age, Lan Zhan!” He teased, and then squawked in outrage as the tip of Bichen slashed through the ties holding the two jars together.

“What is your excuse?” Lan Zhan asked after catching the stray bottle in midair, silently delighted when Wei Ying threw his head back and laughed.

“Alright, alright. I should stop messing around so much,” he said, grinning wide. “There’s a rule about that somewhere over there, right?”

“Perhaps a few,” Lan Zhan said mildly; they both knew there were at least ten, and most of those were unsubtle references to Wei Ying’s past adventures at the Cloud Recesses.

Wei Ying leaned down to set the bottle at his feet, patting it on the top like it was a pet. “You stay right there. I’ll be back in just a moment for you.”

Lan Zhan’s pulse quickened as he slowly, pointedly drew Suibian from its sheath and set it aside. The blade glinted softly under the silver lights obscured by thin clouds from above, reflecting back onto Wei Ying’s face and casting shadows that made it hard to identify his features.

For a moment, under the play of shadows across his face, he looked like that sixteen year old boy again, before the world had consumed everything he had, down to his very spirit. His face was his own again, long lost but never forgotten, and then Mo Xuanyu’s delicate features returned as the clouds passed.

There was no disappointment. Lan Zhan had come to love this face as well. He would recognize any face that Wei Ying wore, because he knew and loved the spirit underneath better than his own.

Wei Ying gave him no warning. He moved like water, Yunmeng Jiang’s fluid sword style evident in every movement. Lan Zhan raised his sword in preparation, and met him halfway.

They clashed. Swords crossed. Eyes met. And Wei Ying winked before sending a burst of raw power into a sudden shove that sent Lan Zhan skidding backwards.

Astonished, he stared at Wei Ying. Caught the determined expression on his husband’s face, and settled in for a real fight this time. If Wei Ying wanted a fight, Lan Zhan would give him one. It seemed as though Wei Ying had something to prove to Lan Zhan and, more importantly, himself.

Few cultivators alive could match Lan Zhan’s brute strength and impossible reserves of stamina. Once, Wei Ying had been capable. Now, though, he wore Mo Xuanyu’s body, and it was smaller, with less muscle tone as his first body.

But Wei Ying was quick and clever, and this body happened to also be young and flexible, unburdened by the aches and pains that had plagued him before his death. He’d clearly been training for some time; Lan Zhan could see significantly more muscle tone in his arms and legs, his training clearly paying off.

They fought until they were both breathing hard, until the ring of clashing steel softened. They fought to a standstill, and when Suibian’s blade touched his throat just as Bichen’s stopped at Wei Ying’s, Lan Zhan pressed his free hand to Wei Ying’s abdomen and stared at him with wide, wet eyes.

Wei Ying smiled.

“Your core is…” Lan Zhan trailed off, too choked up to continue.

“As strong as it ever was?” Wei Ying asked, lowering Suibian with a beaming smile.

“How?” Lan Zhan asked helplessly, sliding Bichen into the sheath on his back so he could cup his hands around Wei Ying’s beloved face and rest their foreheads together.

“I had to start from scratch,” Wei Ying said. “You know that.” Lan Zhan managed a nod. “Once the tiny baby Lans stopped outpacing me, I enlisted A-Yuan and Lan Jingyi’s help. Then Wen Ning, and finally Zewu-Jun.”

“My brother?” Lan Zhan asked, wondering if this was why Lan Xichen had been smiling at him so often lately, like he knew something Lan Zhan didn’t. Clearly he had.

“Yeah.” Wei Ying turned his head enough to press a kiss to Lan Zhan’s palm. “I wanted to surprise you, so I had to practice with someone on your level. With Wen Ning and Lan Xichen’s help, I figured out which way to hold a sword again, and then strengthened my golden core enough to make it actually matter.”

His golden core was strong again. The unspoken hung between them-- Lan Zhan would not outlive his husband by decades. Wei Ying had cultivated Mo Xuanyu’s underdeveloped core to incredible heights so Lan Zhan would never be alone like before, achieving the impossible once again.

Happiness became joy, and Lan Zhan was helpless to do anything but kiss him, cloaked in moonlight and memories.

...

LQR looking outside to see them chasing each other around on the rooftops: not this again.

LXC watching w/ hearts in his eyes: it’s called romance, uncle

#the untamed #mdzs #wangxian #wei wuxian #lan wangji #post canon #prompts #asks #anon #my fics #my writing

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kyber-crystal · 4 years

Text

here again || s.r

words: ~2k

summary: you & steve reunite in wakanda after two long years apart

warning: literally none, just fluff. also bad writing bc this is an old ass oneshot

a/n: so uh,,,this was apparently the result of me falling in love with nomad steve rogers all over again. IW was actually the first avengers film i saw and let me just say, hot damn...also i’m horrible w/titles i’m so sorry. if you’d like to be added to my taglist to be the first to know when i publish something new loml!

tags: to @wxstedhexrt ! THANK YOU FOR BEING SO SWEET AND SUPPORTIVE AND ALWAYS TAGGING ME IN STUFF ILY

Time flies, people told you. Make the most of every moment. Take nothing for granted. Appreciate those you have around you while they’re still here, because you never know when they’ll leave you.

What they didn’t mention was what happened between those long hours, the immense pain that came along with missing someone you loved and held near and dear to your heart. The countless sleepless nights awake, wondering if they’d be alright, wondering if they were safe and not in danger. The countless nights hoping and praying they’d come back to you and crying yourself to sleep.

They didn’t tell you that sometimes, you never knew what you were missing until it was gone.

In your case, your ‘what’ was Steve Rogers.

Initially, you’d started off on Tony’s side. Not because you agreed with his argument - that wasn’t the case at all - but because you couldn’t stand the idea of turning your back against the man that had sacrificed so much for your sake. But as soon as you saw Steve on the other side of the battlefield, eyes soft and pleading, you couldn’t take it anymore. You caved.

Being in love made people do strange things, you thought.

You were lucky enough to have found refuge in Wakanda. T’Challa was more than happy to let you stay, knowing you had nowhere else to go and wanting to make sure you were looked after at all times. The others - Sam and the rest of Team Cap, had been sent to the Raft - they weren’t as lucky.

You felt awful. Here you were, living out a peaceful life (well, as peaceful of a fugitive’s life could be), while the rest of your teammates were trapped within the iron fists of the government.

Two years passed, and you still hadn’t gotten a message, any sort of sign, from any of them. You began losing hope. Maybe they weren’t coming back...

“Miss Y/N?” a calm voice suddenly jarred you from your thoughts.

You turned around to see T’Challa standing there with his hands behind his back. “How many times have i told you to just address me as Y/N?”

“My apologies, Y/N,” he nodded curtly, correcting himself. “Are you alright?”

“Just...thinking,” you hummed.

“It seems as if you have a lot on your mind,” he guessed. “Is there something that’s bothering you?”

“No, no...”

“Miss- Y/N, you’ve been here for two years, and you think by now, I wouldn’t know when something’s up?” The Wakandan king raised an eyebrow.

“T’challa-”

“Hopefully, some good news will lift your spirits?” he offered. “I have received a call, they’re on their way.”

Your brows furrowed in confusion. “Who?”

“Captain Rogers and the others are due to arrive soon. War is coming, and we need to prepare.”

You froze. “D..did I just hear you correctly?”

“Indeed. Okoye will meet you outside your chambers in half an hour, so take some time to wash up and rest, will you? You seem exhausted.”

“You know me so well,” you yawned and stretched your arms in the air. “See you in a bit.”

After you finished washing up and drying your hair, you changed into a comfortable cable-knit sweater and dark jeans before opening the door to see Okoye and Shuri standing there. “Hi.”

Shuri came forward and squeezed you into a tight hug. “Hey!”

You chuckled lightly and ruffled her hair. “So, what’re we doing?”

“T’Challa’s already there, we’re going to see Barnes,” she explained.

“Bucky?”

“The one and only.”

Okoye offered you one of her rare smiles. You’d formed an unexpected close friendship with the fierce warrior during your time here - she made an excellent sparring partner, and even taught you how to work her weapons.

You headed outside to meet T’Challa, and made your way towards the fields together.

...

“Drop to 2600, heading 0-3-0,” Steve stated as he walked up to the pilot’s seat. Despite the calm tone of voice he had, everyone could tell he was on the verge of losing it.

“I hope you’re right about this, Cap,” Sam said, “or we’re gonna land a lot faster than you want to.”

“Nervous, Rogers?” Natasha nudged him gently in the side.

“No.” But the look in his eyes gave it all away.

“It’s been a wild two years, huh,” she exhaled as she stared out ahead, the Quinjet passing through a camouflage forcefield into the Golden City’s valley, landing at the airfield outside the palace.

“Yeah...it has.”

“So when are you gonna tell her?”

“Tell her what?”

“That you’re hopelessly in love with her.”

“Natasha-”

“Don’t bullshit me, Rogers, I know you are,” she gave the super-soldier an accusatory look. “Otherwise you wouldn’t have woken up in the middle of the night because you had a nightmare that she died, and it was only after talking with Sam for an hour that you fell back asleep. Which has happened multiple times before.”

“But, Natasha-”

“Come on..why can’t you just admit it? Are you afraid she’s gonna reject you? Because that should be the least of your worries. She’s head over heels for you.”

“What makes you think that?” he tilted his head to the side slightly.

“Intuition. And the way she looked at you.”

“When you said we were going to open Wakanda to the rest of the world...this is not what I imagined,” Okoye commented as she and T’Challa walked side-by-side.

“And what did you imagine?”

“The Olympics. Maybe even a Starbucks.”

The Quinjet’s back gate dropped open and its occupants disembarked. Steve and Natasha stepped down the ramp first, followed by Bruce and Rhodey, with Vision and Wanda in the back.

“Should we bow?” Bruce whispered into Rhodey’s ear.

“Yeah,” he replied, dead serious. “He’s a king.”

“Seems like I’m always thanking you for something,” Steve said as he and T’Challa shook hands.

Bruce awkwardly bowed. Rhodey pretended to look shocked, but there was a hint of an smile on his face. “What are you doing?”

“Uh, we don’t do that here,” T’Challa motioned with his hand. Bruce shot Rhodey a look, and was just answered with an amused grin. “So how big of an assault can we expect?”

“Uh, sir, I think you can expect quite a big assault,” Bruce replied as they began walking back into the administrative building.

“How we looking?” Natasha questioned.

“You will have my Kingsguard, the Border Tribe, the Dora Milaje, and...”

“A semi-stable, 100-year-old man,” Bucky finished with a wide grin as he walked towards his best friend. The two men exchanged a tight hug.

“How you been, Buck?”

“Uh, not bad, for the end of the world.” He paused for a moment before speaking again. “But I think I’ve been holding up better than she has.”

“Who?”

“Everyone’s favorite retired Olympian, ex-nurse, and fugitive electrokinetic hero.”

“What-”

Before he had the chance to answer, your familiar figure stepped out from the shadows.

“Y/N?”

“Steve?”

You felt your breath catch in your throat and froze on the spot. He still had that same lean, muscular figure that any girl would swoon over, but his hair had grown out from years on the run and a rugged beard now covered his sharp jaw. His suit was darkened from dirt and grime and the star in its centre was torn out. But he was still absolutely breathtaking - bright blue eyes shining through the coverage.

His expression immediately softened upon seeing you. After many nights praying to see your face again his vision had finally become reality - and he had to keep pinching the inside of his palm to remind himself that this in fact, wasn’t a dream at all. He wasn’t dreaming. You were real, and you were standing just a couple yards away.

You felt your chest ache at the sight of him - it had been two years since you heard him speak. And it didn’t seem to matter how long you were apart for, because his voice would always make you weak at the knees. You hated him for making you react the way you did - or was it yourself that your hatred was directed at more?

But then all feelings of resentment and frustration starting to bubble up to the surface suddenly evaporated. You snapped out of your temporary trance and broke into a sprint, running as fast as your legs would carry you and launching yourself towards him, flinging your arms around his neck. “Steve-”

You slumped against him and broke down, your body trembling from your sobs. He pulled you closer against him and circled his arms around your waist. You didn’t know whether you were crying out of frustration or relief - but the feeling that was brought upon you by being held by him was unlike any other - you’d never get tired of it. You felt so safe, so protected in his tight embrace that you didn’t want to think about anything else. You didn’t want to think about the inevitable war on your way, you didn’t want to think about the past nor the future, you just wanted to live in the moment - with your head on his chest, his chin on top of your head. That was it.

Steve felt his heart shatter into a million tiny pieces. You were crying. You never cried. You never cried and now you were breaking down - because of him.

“I missed you,” he mumbled, voice muffled by your hair. “God, I missed you so much. I’m so sorry I left you-”

“It’s okay-” you choked out, “I’m just glad you’re alive-”

You lifted your chin up slightly and he rested his forehead against yours, so close that there were only a few millimeters that kept your lips from touching. That’s when you realized he, too, was crying - tears streaming down his face and you swear there’s literally nothing that could make him look any less handsome. You felt your heart stop momentarily. A strange feeling settled in the pit of your stomach. If it weren’t for his steady gaze, you’re almost 100% sure you would’ve forgotten how to breathe.

Steve let out a shaky sigh of relief, inhaling the fresh scent of roses in your hair. It’s been two years since he was last able to hold you like this - and two years later, he still believes you fit perfectly together and that you were made to be held by him, and him alone.

Then you were overcome with a sudden surge of confidence and quickly cupped his face in your hands and pressed your lips to his, closing the gap.

It was like fireworks were shooting through your veins as he deepened the kiss and pulled you closer - if that was even possible, given that you were practically pressed against one another - your heart racing at what felt like a million miles per hour at the feeling of his warm lips on yours and his hand between your shoulder blades and on the small of your back. He tasted like everything between euphoria and heartbreak, salty tears and berries and warm coffee, and his touch was electrifying.

You probably could’ve gone on like that for hours on end. It was only when you heard someone cough awkwardly that you broke apart, eyes still glassy with tears, your faces flushed, and lips swollen.

“Are you and lover boy gonna keep up the baby-making or are you gonna say hi to the rest of us?” Sam interjected. “Just a friendly reminder that you aren’t the only two people here.”

“You’re gross,” you muttered as Steve released you to go greet the others. “Hey, Sam. It’s been a while, huh.”

“Long time no see,” he agreed.

“Well, well, well, I see you’ve finally worked up the courage to make a move, both of you,” Natasha smirked as she brought you in for a quick hug. “I’m proud of you both.”

“Nat! I missed you.”

“I missed you too. You know, Cap wouldn’t stop rambling about you the entire way here-”

“Shut up, Nat,” Steve cut her off. “I wasn’t rambling.”

“Not rambling my ass,” Bucky muttered, “you were talking my ear off that day we took the Quinjet. Wouldn’t stop worrying about her when she insisted she’d be okay.”

“If there was an Olympic sport of being passionately in love with your best friend and mutually pining over one another for years before finally breaking the through-the-roof tension, I assure you you’d win, Captain,” Shuri grinned mischievously.

“Oh, my God.”

#avengers imagines #steve x reader #steve rogers x reader #avengers x reader #captain america imagine #captain america x reader #marvel fic #avengers fanfiction #captain america one shot #steve rogers fanfiction #captain america fanfiction #steve rogers fic #captain america fic #mcu #chris evans x reader

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crimsonbluemoon · 4 years

Note

15 & 5 for Daithi de Wildcat ples Ó w Ò

*quietly chants* spoiled spoiled spoiled spoiled spoiled... I should be more upset about this, but she’s Kihorri so XD

Ship: Daithi De Wildcat Number: 15/5 Prompt: Calming them down when they have a bad dream/Giving them a kiss before going to work and they are still in bed

Nogla knew his boyfriend was tough.

It was part of his cute charm, despite what all of their friends said. It might have had something to do with him being a soldier just back from a tour. Nogla hadn’t known Tyler before his military experience, only meeting him when going for the ride to pick up Brian’s childhood friend from the airport. It’d been a quick connection that Nogla dived head first into. Tyler resisted for three months before kissing him between insults after Nogla fell off a balcony at a Fourth of July party.

Tyler could scowl and growl with the best of them, and that tended to get him a bad reputation. But Nogla wasn’t fooled by his glares; there was a soft person inside the bulkier body. They’d been dating for seven months now, and despite the little snarks and sarcasm, Tyler was a good boyfriend. Tyler remembered things about him, like his favorite playlist or his coffee order, that sometimes even Nogla forgot. It was sweet, in its own quirky way, even if Tyler pretended not to do anything nice.

So when he was woken up by violent shaking beside him, Nogla knew it was his rare moment to shine.

“You’re okay, Tyler.” He kept his voice calm and steady, but didn’t touch Tyler while he was still asleep. He’d learned from mistakes before that physical soothing didn’t help during the violent nightmares that still plagued his boyfriend from his time across the ocean. Nogla glanced to the clock, clearing his throat to shove down the sleep. “It’s 3:12am. You’re in our apartment in Los Angeles, California. It’s a humid night, shitty weather. It never gets like this in Ireland, ya know? Should just move ya there, keep ya nice and cold to keep these nightmares from coming after you like this. Ma could make a nice stew, ya know? It’d have lots of potatoes-”

“Shuddup.” The groggy voice wasn’t loud, but enough for Nogla to know his quiet ramblings had done their part. This wasn’t the first time Tyler’s nightmares had woken him up, and he was sure it would not be the last. Each time, Nogla had taken notice of something new; humid nights and beaches reminded Tyler of the desert. A nightmare was guaranteed after any death anniversary of a soldier he knew. The sharp accent of Nogla tended to yank him away from the memories of his troop. None of them were Irish, so it ‘jarred’ the reality presented in his mind.

Now that Tyler was awake, Nogla scooted closer, placing a comforting hand against the side of his still shaking boyfriend. “Hey. What level we at, babe?”

Tyler didn’t like to talk about his emotions, especially after his nightmares. His therapist had found a color system for the two to use in moments of Tyler’s vulnerability, which Nogla dedicated to memory despite being told not to several times by the solider.

“...Yellow.” The color wasn’t the worst, and the nights Tyler had an orange or red were tougher to shake him out of. Blue and green were better, only needing some water or music for him to slip back into sleep. Yellow was somewhere in the middle, and Nogla curled himself around Tyler’s stiff back like a second layer of clothes.

“Thanks for telling me.”

“You’d fucking bug me if I didn’t.” The darkness of the room didn’t hide Tyler’s palms rising up to his eyes, pressing into them to rub away the terrible scenes behind his lids. Nogla would never know how it felt to live the life of a soldier; he’d been far too passive to lay his life on the line for ideals he didn’t know he agreed with. But Tyler, his strong, beautiful, tormented boyfriend, had. Wrapping his arm around the warm waist, he bumped his knobby knees behind Tyler’s.

A grunt showed Tyler was irritated, but not at Nogla; he was shaken by his own mind. Probably embarrassed despite having no reason to be. He sometimes treated his survival like a shameful badge, trying to hide it away from Nogla. But the way the powerful back pressed back into his chest, instead of jerking away like two months ago, proved he desired the affection. Nogla nosed into the back of Tyler’s neck gently, placing a kiss to the top of his spine to show he’d heard his need.

“Go back to sleep, okay? I’m gonna be right here when ya wake up,” he whispered, the promise rolled over the clammy skin.

Tyler didn’t speak up again, only dropping his hands away from his face and burying it back into his pillow. Nogla didn’t mention that he could tell Tyler had cried, knowing that he was too raw at the moment to speak about it. Some nights, words just weren’t needed when comfort could be given in other ways. So Nogla held him tighter, making sure to stay awake long enough to feel the stomach under his touch even in it’s breathing. Still, he lingered, probably longer than he should have if the hint of the morning light was anything to go by.

He wasn’t sure when his eyes finally lost their battle with sleep, but he knew the soft pressure against his lips that woke him up. He hummed out a noise that was caught between surprise and annoyance, but easily kissed the warm mouth back. Slanted from how Tyler was leaning over him, it wasn’t their best, but Nogla’s tummy still fluttered with happiness. Affection and love were easy for him to pour over his boyfriend, so moments where Tyler initiated romance were presents he treasured. The kiss lingered for a few wonderful seconds before the minty taste was gone, Nogla’s eyes forcing themselves open in the daylight.

“Gotta go to work.” Tyler’s sentence was a drop of disappointment in Nogla’s pleased mind, knowing they wouldn’t be able to share breakfast. He liked to use their mornings after nightmares to check in on Tyler’s mental status and see if he needed to text Brian to ‘not have enough work at the station’ for Tyler to come in. He did a quick assessment of his boyfriend’s face and posture, not seeing any of the tension or signs that’d imply the dreams still haunted him.

“Bring home dinner from that diner by the fire station,” Nogla mumbled, grabbing the blankets and yanking them closer to his shoulder before closing his eyes again.

“Dumbass, we have food here.” But the rough kiss pressed to his forehead as he slipped back toward sleep meant Tyler was going to spoil him.

“Thanks.” He yawned through the word, ears barely picking up on the creaking boards when Tyler walked toward the doorway.

“Yeah, you too.” He didn’t need to question what Tyler was grateful for.

And with a smile on his face, Nogla curled into the pillow that smelt like his boyfriend before falling asleep.

#kihoori #Daithi De Wildcat #DDW #I Am Wildcat #Daithi De Nogla #<3 #Crimson Drabblez

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gusu-emilu · 3 years

Text

sometimes I forget (2/3)

chapter two: grieve what I happen to grieve

Ship: Jiang Cheng / Wen Ning

Summary: Wen Ning and Jiang Cheng travel to Dafan Mountain to find the cure to Lan Wangji’s fever. Their animosity results in a very strained partnership, which only becomes more complicated when Jiang Cheng develops the fever too. But along the way, they address the scars that haunt them and find something new in each other.

< Ch. 1 | Ch. 3 > | Art

Post-Canon, Rated T - read on AO3 or on Tumblr below

Wen Ning stood up. “I-I’d like to visit the memorial I made with A-Yuan. I’ll be back soon.”

Jiang Cheng grunted with indifference.

Wen Ning headed out, but he had only taken a few steps when he heard, “Wen Qionglin.”

He turned back to Jiang Cheng, who had now opened his eyes.

“I’ll come with you.”

“Take care of yourself,” Wen Ning said. “That’s what you should do.”

They fell silent for a few moments, staring at each other.

Reluctantly, Jiang Cheng reached out to receive Sandu. “Fine. I won’t fly.” He turned abruptly and strode down the forest path.

Walking the rest of the way did not cost too much time. The village on Dafan Mountain was closer than they realized.

At first, Jiang Cheng’s only noticeable symptoms of the Four-Sunsets Flu were a slight temperature and haggard breathing. But by the time they reached the foot of the mountain, Jiang Cheng’s skin was slick with sweat, his hands shook, his knees gave out.

They still had a tall summit to climb. Jiang Cheng was not strong enough for it.

Knowing Jiang Cheng would be too stubborn to agree to wait behind, Wen Ning said, “Let me carry you.”

Jiang Cheng pressed his sword into the dirt like a cane, his limbs wobbling. Beads of sweat appeared at his temples. “I’d sooner die than let you carry me twice in one night.”

This did not offend Wen Ning. Nothing much out of people’s mouths did anymore. Yet, he realized, his usual desensitization was not why this time, he didn’t mind the harsh words.

It was because behind all the spite, there was humor in Jiang Cheng’s voice. Dark and bitter, but still humor.

Wen Ning did not know what to do with that.

“It’s morning now,” he found himself saying. “So it doesn’t count.”

Jiang Cheng scoffed and started up the mountain trail. He struggled after just a few steps, his legs uncooperative, his brow knitted.

Wen Ning watched from below, waiting for him to give up.

He was soon forced to a stop. Jiang Cheng clutched the mountain terrace on the side of the trail and hunched over, his breath unsteady. He shot a glare down at Wen Ning that looked like he wanted to hurl rocks at him.

“Will you agree?” Wen Ning said as he easily scaled the slope.

“Just get it over with.”

Instead of carrying Jiang Cheng bridal style like before, this time Wen Ning carried him on his back. A piggyback ride did not have the chance of eye contact. Less awkward.

But this was an even more vivid reminder of the night he rescued Jiang Cheng from Lotus Pier. This was exactly how Wen Ning had carried him.

The pressure of Jiang Cheng’s weight was different—partly because Jiang Cheng was much older now, partly because everything felt different as a fierce corpse—but the sensation was still too similar to be comfortable.

They reached the summit.

Hazy orange-blue light of the morning’s earliest hours crept through the sky and cloaked the village. The Dafan Wen residence was a phantom of its former self, abandoned and decaying. Raiders had scrounged through it multiple times over the years.

Despite the village’s decline, Wen Ning knew these paths of caked yellow earth all too well. It was still the same home he had spent his childhood in.

How fitting, that at the beginning of Wei Wuxian’s second life, he and Wen Ning had reunited at this village. The place where everything had started for Wen Ning. The place where part of his soul was snatched by the Goddess Statue, leaving him spiritually distorted and unable to fully cultivate, and enabling Wen Ruohan to use him as collateral against his sister.

The place where years later he destroyed that same Goddess Statue at Wei Wuxian’s command. Felt the rust of catharsis at defeating his childhood monster.

The place where Wen Chao had turned Wen Ning’s entire family into puppets just to ambush Wei Wuxian and Lan Wangji. Where the remnants of his clan were taken captive by the Jins, marched to Qiongqi Path for forced labor.

And now the village was dead.

Wen Ning had thought that constructing a memorial here with A-Yuan would finally grant him peace about his family.

It was foolish to have thought that. Nothing ever ends so easily.

“Are you going to put me down?” Jiang Cheng said.

Jiang Cheng had been purposely sagging his weight for the last half minute, Wen Ning realized.

“Sorry.” Wen Ning released him.

Jiang Cheng held his forehead in his hand and swayed back and forth.

“Can you stand?”

“Of course,” Jiang Cheng snapped, despite how he leaned onto the wall of a house and then sank to the ground. His face flushed pink.

“W-W-Wait here.” Wen Ning hurried down the dusty road of the village.

“Where are you going? Wen Qionglin!”

As Wen Ning turned the corner, he stumbled a bit at the sound of his courtesy name.

Jiang Cheng had not called him ‘Ghost General.’

It felt strange. But not unpleasant.

Wen Ning rummaged through the village for any trace of herb satchels or bottles of tonic that might have been left behind. The Dafan Wen Clan’s medicine worked better and faster than any other. He could find something to get Jiang Cheng back on his feet before they hunted for the final cure to the Four-Sunsets Flu.

But it was a slim chance that anything would be left. Thieves had stripped the buildings bare. They had even stolen the tattered red curtains that used to hang over the doorways.

Wen Ning regretted not going through the village when he visited with A-Yuan, to recover what few items remained. Instead, he had avoided the village and only gone to his clan’s burial grounds.

Somehow, it had been easier to visit the graves. Those were supposed to be lifeless. His home was not.

He sped up his search. He did not want to spend any more time in these empty houses.

In one of the elders’ huts, he found a secret stash of medicine in the wall. He hugged it all into his arms, hoping that he wouldn’t break anything, and ran back outside to where Jiang Cheng lay limp against a wall. He was farther down the street than where Wen Ning had left him. He must have tried to follow Wen Ning and not gotten far before falling back down.

Wen Ning squatted down and dumped the medical supplies in front of Jiang Cheng. A jumble of bottles, vials, and jars rolled in the dry yellow dirt.

“What is all that?” Even when collapsed from fever and exhaustion, Jiang Cheng still managed to channel enough sass into his voice for a man and a half. He wrinkled his nose. “It smells awful.”

Wen Ning had no sense of smell as a fierce corpse, so this was new information. Although it didn’t especially matter to him if Jiang Cheng disliked the scent.

Rearranging the bottles, Wen Ning said, “I might be able to give you some temporary treatment.”

“What’s the point when the cure is here? Don’t waste our time.” Jiang Cheng eyed the bottles suspiciously as Wen Ning lifted them one by one to decipher the faded labels. “How do you know those aren’t rotten? You’re going to poison me.”

“They keep for a long time.” When Jiang Cheng scowled more, Wen Ning said, “It might take a while to find the cure. So I’d like Jiang Wanyin to have some strength back before we start searching.”

“What does it matter to you?”

Wen Ning looked up from the bottles. “You shouldn’t come on this journey and then make me do all the work.”

Jiang Cheng rolled his eyes. “Fine, then. Whatever it takes for me to not be your patient any longer.”

He was surprisingly cooperative as Wen Ning held out wrinkled old herbs and a vial of bitter fluid. He took the medicine without a complaint, other than a few coughs and a disgusted grimace.

Several minutes later, some of the redness left his cheeks, and he was able to stand. “You better not have poisoned me,” he muttered as he brushed dust off his robes. “Where do we find the cure?”

“The remedy hasn’t been needed for centuries. All I remember from my family’s story is something about an ice-blue flower that blooms on this mountain at night. But I’ve never seen it.”

“That’s it?” Jiang Cheng yelled. Having regained his strength, his voice had also regained its volume. “We came all the way here and that’s all you have to go on?”

You could’ve asked before deciding if it was worth it to come, Wen Ning thought. But what he said was, “We have to check if any ancient texts were left behind. They might have the answers.”

“Shouldn’t you already know if there are records left? Didn’t you come here with that Lan boy?” he said, as if he didn’t know Lan Sizhui’s name. “What kind of descendant doesn’t guard the relics of his clan?”

Wen Ning winced at this. Jiang Cheng had an unmatched skill of firing shots of criticism posed as questions. But masked or not, his words cut just as sharp.

Back then, Jiang Cheng had lost everything. He had rebuilt Yunmeng from the ground up. Fought for the Jiang Clan, clawing its way back to power, leaving his people in want of nothing but an heir.

What had Wen Ning done for his clan but let it die?

Was the pain of their loss not equal? After Jiang Cheng’s parents were murdered and his city was burnt to cinders, he still had the strength to create something from the ashes. Was Wen Ning too weak to even lay eyes on the ashes that remained of his own clan?

Jiang Cheng cleared his throat. The sound brought Wen Ning back to the present.

No, he decided. Their situations had not been equal.

Wen Ning did not have the foothold that Jiang Cheng had. For years he was chained up by the Jins, tormented and experimented on. Stripped of his consciousness by nails shoved in his head. Even if he had the freedom to try to rebuild, there had been no foundation left. His clan had been wiped out.

Why would he want to create something from ashes as dead as he was, when there was life elsewhere?

“A-Yuan,” he found himself saying.

He did not look at Jiang Cheng, but he felt the man’s gaze boring into him.

“A-Yuan is my clan now. And A-Yuan has been granted a new life with the Lans.”

He did not dare voice it, but to himself, he said, Wei Wuxian is one of mine as well.

When he turned to Jiang Cheng, the man was staring at the ground, his eyes frail and downcast. “I…”

His fingers shifted in his clenched fists, as if he were channeling whatever he had to say into his hands—perhaps into Zidian—instead of the air. Then he set his jaw and marched down the narrow street, leaving Wen Ning behind.

* * *

They scavenged through the village until noon, searching for ancient Wen texts. They stopped every hour for Wen Ning to prepare another dose of medicine for Jiang Cheng. The treatment kept him upright, but each dose was less effective as his condition worsened.

They did not have much time. Two sunsets, and the fever would reach its peak.

They overturned the few pieces of furniture left in the buildings and gouged every crack in the walls. All they found were a few keepsakes—a necklace, a burlap sack, a compass—that Wen Ning set aside so he would not have to imagine the faces of the people they had once belonged to.

Nothing remained of the Dafan Wen Clan’s medical literature.

Now Wen Ning and Jiang Cheng stood in the dusty street, baking under the hot sun, feeling as hopeless and bleak as the ghost town. Jiang Cheng’s face was bright red. His hands were trembling slightly. The midday heat was not helping his fever.

Panting, he retreated into the shade of one of the houses. “I thought Wei Wuxian said we would find the cure here.” It was meant to sound accusatory, but most of the bite had been sapped out of his voice.

“We will,” said Wen Ning. “The ice flower grows somewhere hidden on this mountain. I just don’t know where it is or how to use it.”

Jiang Cheng rolled his eyes. He shook his head disapprovingly for a few moments. Then, “What about the cave?”

“The Goddess Statue’s shrine?”

He nodded.

“I think it will be empty. But we can try.” Wen Ning started on the path to the cave. He looked back when Jiang Cheng didn’t follow.

Jiang Cheng still leaned against the wall, avoiding eye contact.

“…Do you need me to carry you?”

Jiang Cheng did not answer, so Wen Ning took it as a yes. He heaved Jiang Cheng onto his back and headed for the cave.

It was strange to see the shrine with no Goddess Statue. As much as Wen Ning hated the goddess that stole part of his soul and killed his father, he wished that she still loomed over the cave floor, frozen in her haunted dance. At least that would be something on Dafan Mountain that wasn’t gone.

Wen Ning let Jiang Cheng rest against one of the rock formations beside the shrine as he searched the cave. There were a few offerings remaining from when the villagers at the foot of Dafan Mountain used to worship the goddess, but those had long since rotted away.

Having found nothing useful, Wen Ning wandered aimlessly around the cave, more to have something to do than to continue searching. He trailed a hand along the wall and wished that the stone beneath his hand felt real like it used to. It used to send a chill along his arm, giving him goosebumps. Now his body was just as cold as the stone, and he felt nothing.

If I don’t find the cure, will Lan Wangji and Jiang Wanyin die?

He tried not to think about it, but fear was eating away at him. He could not be responsible for more deaths. Especially not two people that Wei Wuxian loved.

But what hope was there?

A-Jie…I need your help…

If only Wen Qing had survived instead. She had always been smarter than Wen Ning, more perceptive than him. She would have known how to find the cure.

After a few more pointless circles around the cave, Wen Ning returned to Jiang Cheng.

“I don’t know what to do,” Wen Ning said.

Jiang Cheng looked up, his eyelids heavy. “You will.”

Wen Ning sat down front of Jiang Cheng, feeling hopeless.

And angry.

Resentful energy swirled inside him. He knew that it wasn’t his fault that he couldn’t find the cure, and neither was it Jiang Cheng’s, but for some reason he wanted to hit both of them.

“I wish I knew what to do.”

“Do you want to get us killed?” Jiang Cheng yelled.

Wen Ning flinched backward. “W-W-What’s wrong?”

“You can’t make wishes here! That goddess has stolen the souls of people who made wishes in her presence!”

Wen Ning looked at the empty space behind the goddess’s former shrine. “But her statue is destroyed. She isn’t here anymore.”

Jiang Cheng narrowed his eyes. “I don’t trust that. Her spirit could still be around.”

Her spirit…

Something clicked in Wen Ning’s mind. “What if she can still be summoned?”

“Even worse, then. That goddess is a nuisance.”

“We should summon her.”

Jiang Cheng looked at Wen Ning like he was crazy. “For what?”

But before Wen Ning could answer, Jiang Cheng had already turned his attention to the shrine. His brow softened. “You’re right…if her spirit is still here, she might be able to help us find the cure.”

Wen Ning scooted closer to Jiang Cheng. “Can you summon her?”

“Can I summon her? Your clan lived here. You should do it.”

“I…” Wen Ning stared at the ground. “I can’t. I’m not alive.”

“Oh.” Jiang Cheng frowned. There was regret in his voice. He dug his fingers into the stone wall as he tried to push himself up to stand. “Sometimes I forget.”

Wen Ning meant to go forward and help him, but instead he sat frozen in place, repeating Jiang Cheng’s words in his mind.

Sometimes I forget.

As hard as Wen Ning searched for sarcasm or disdain or malice, there was none. He had said it simply, sincerely.

With his cold, stiff body, and his empty eyes, and his skin streaked with black veins, who could forget that the Ghost General was not alive?

“A little help?” Jiang Cheng said.

“S-S-Sorry!” Wen Ning hurried to support Jiang Cheng as they approached the altar, his mind still spinning.

Jiang Cheng sank to his knees and pulled a stick of incense from a qiankun pouch in his robes. “Leave me be.” Once Wen Ning backed away, Jiang Cheng lit the flame as an offering and closed his eyes.

Wen Ning imagined the rich, musky fragrance of the incense that he could no longer smell.

Another reminder that he was, indeed, not alive.

And yet…

Sometimes I forget.

He stepped closer to Jiang Cheng.

The incense smoke snaked through the air in front of Jiang Cheng. His face, usually dour and strong-lined, was calm and soft as he fell into the trance to summon the goddess.

Everyone knew that Wen Ning was not alive.

The juniors, as much as they enjoyed his company, were careful to avoid his cold hands and the resentful energy that bound his body together. Once they had grown comfortable enough with him, they even started making playful jokes about his un-dead condition. The banter helped Wen Ning feel better about life as a fierce corpse. But it also continued to remind him that he was different now, and he could not change it.

Lan Wangji did not seem to mind his presence, but Wen Ning always felt like he was intruding on the Cloud Recesses, even though it was his new home.

Perhaps a few of his family members had accepted him as the same A-Ning they one knew, but they were all gone now.

And Wei Wuxian…

Although Wei Wuxian had done all he could to make Wen Ning feel human again, and asserted his humanity to anyone who questioned it, he had also transformed Wen Ning into his weapon. Into the Ghost General.

Wen Ning would have killed for Wei Wuxian. It had been his choice. And with one note of Chenqing, Wen Ning would kill again, if his friend needed him to.

But would that still be his choice?

Who could be controlled this way other than a fierce corpse?

So then how could Jiang Cheng, the man who had raged against anyone who dared speak the name of the Ghost General, who hated Wen Ning for making his nephew an orphan, who refused to let Wen Ning set foot in Lotus Pier—how could he so casually ‘forget’ what Wen Ning was?

Suddenly, Jiang Cheng gasped and jerked awake. His eyes were wide. Disbelieving.

“J-Jiang Wanyin?”

Jiang Cheng seemed to struggle for words. He turned his head toward Wen Ning. He almost looked like he felt guilty about something.

“Go outside.”

“What…what happened?”

“Go.”

Wen Ning obeyed and hurried out of the cave. He looked over his shoulder at Jiang Cheng and saw him remove a small tan pouch from his robes.

What is he doing?

Wen Ning decided that it was best to respect Jiang Cheng’s demand for privacy. Anything to get them closer to the cure.

He found a comfortable place to sit and played with a handful of pebbles as he waited, rolling them through his fingers, wondering if the sensation felt a bit more defined than usual.

Several minutes later, there was a scuffing sound. He glanced up, expecting to see a standing figure, but had to redirect his eyes downward to where Jiang Cheng was crawling on the ground at the mouth of the cave.

Wen Ning jumped up. He helped Jiang Cheng to his feet, holding him upright. “Did you summon the goddess?”

A peculiar expression appeared on Jiang Cheng’s face. He shifted his jaw in discomfort, his dark eyes darting away. “I summoned something.”

“What was it? Does it know how to find the cure?”

“The Ever-Frozen Flower grows in the center of the western forest. Its nectar is the cure. It only blooms for a few moments at the coldest point of the night, and we need to harvest its nectar while its open.”

“Great! That’s it, then!”

Jiang Cheng nodded. He looked a bit happier than before, but still troubled by something.

Wen Ning noted that Jiang Cheng did not tell him what he had summoned.

Well, that was less important. They would have hours to wait until night when the blossom opened, so Wen Ning had time to ask again later.

This evening would be the second-to-last sunset before the fever fully consumed its victims. They had found a lead just in time.

“There’s hope,” Wen Ning said. “Thank you, Jiang Wanyin.”

Jiang Cheng scoffed. “It was your idea.”

“But I wouldn’t have been able to do it. I’m…it’s good that you came.”

Jiang Cheng leaned away, which didn’t get him very far as Wen Ning’s arm was wrapped around his torso. “Er. Right. Let’s get out of the sun.”

His fever had already gotten hotter. He radiated heat so strongly that even Wen Ning felt it as he held the man’s shaking body.

It had been a long time since Wen Ning had this much physical contact with someone. Especially someone so…warm.

“R-Right.” Wen Ning guided him back into the shadows of the cave.

Wen Ning prepared another dose of medicine, taking his time now that there was no rush to rummage through the village or find clues. They had their answer. They just needed to get the timing perfect to harvest the Ever-Frozen Flower’s nectar. Wen Ning felt lighter now, relieved that a cure was in sight.

“Here.” He held out the medicine to Jiang Cheng, who was all but melting from the fever by now.

He swallowed it immediately. “Thank you.”

Wen Ning shifted his weight as he kneeled in front of Jiang Cheng. Something felt off.

Since when did we start thanking each other for things?

“There’s only one dose left,” Wen Ning said. “There wasn’t much to begin with. I can get more medicine later.”

Jiang Cheng looked better already. “At least this sunset isn’t the last one. We have a full night to get the cure.” He rested the back of his head on the cave wall and closed his eyes. “Let’s hope whoever named this Four-Sunsets Flu didn’t get excited and overcount.”

Suddenly Wen Ning was laughing.

Jiang Cheng peeked at Wen Ning with half-open eyes. The corners of his mouth turned up. “You should know better than to laugh at a dead man.”

“You aren’t dead.”

“I sure feel like it.” His shoulders relaxed as he leaned into the wall more.

“…Jiang Wanyin?”

“What?”

Wen Ning stood up. “I-I’d like to visit the memorial I made with A-Yuan. I’ll be back soon.”

Jiang Cheng grunted with indifference.

Wen Ning headed out, but he had only taken a few steps when he heard, “Wen Qionglin.”

He turned back to Jiang Cheng, who had now opened his eyes.

“I’ll come with you.”

Wen Ning could only stare at him in disbelief.

He wants to visit my clan’s burial grounds? Is the flu affecting his mind too?

Then he realized that Jiang Cheng was staring at him, and he should have responded by now. “Oh—Oh, you should rest. It’s hot outside.”

“If you’d prefer to go alone, that’s fine.”

Wen Ning gently clasped his hands together. “No…that’s not what I meant.”

After a few moments, Jiang Cheng raised an arm, indicating for Wen Ning to help him up.

What a strange sight. The Jiang Clan Leader reduced to a feverish puddle, waiting to be picked up by a dead person he despised, to go visit more dead people. Wen Ning could’ve burst into laughter again.

* * *

With Wen Ning’s arm strapped around Jiang Cheng’s torso, they bowed in front of the memorial together, slightly out of sync.

The memorial that Wen Ning and A-Yuan had built was not too large. It was a carved stone that sat to the side of the older memorials in the Dafan Wen burial grounds. Simple and rudimentary, but crafted with care. Wen Ning could not imagine it any other way. Their branch of the Wen Clan had not been one for ostentation.

The bodies of Wen Ning’s family were not here. He did not even know if the Jin Clan had given them a proper burial. It filled him with rage to think about it.

The most he could do for his family’s spirits was to act like they were here. To hope that after he and A-Yuan honored them with the memorial, they had found their way home.

“A-Jie, it’s me. I hope you’ve been well.” Wen Ning’s throat felt dry. “A-Yuan has been growing up. He’s very happy with the Lans. You’d be proud of him.”

He pulled from his robes a small canister of dried fruit that he had packed before leaving for the journey, and placed the jar on the ground. “A-Jie, I b-b-brought apricots for you.” They had always been her favorite.

Suddenly Wen Ning felt heavy. The air was heavy, the sunlight was heavy.

Guilt struck him. He should have brought some of Uncle’s favorite liquor, and some rice cakes for Granny, and—

I miss you.

He should have been with them.

But now, how could he die?

What a cruel trick of fate. He was a walking reminder of what had become of the Dafan Wen, left behind to carry on their bloodline with no blood.

As he stood before the memorial, he felt phantom touches from years ago.

A hand in his.

He remembered lying in bed, just before falling asleep. Wen Qing held his hand. She made the bed tilt a little when she sat on the end of it, creating a tiny slope for Wen Ning to lean closer to her.

She loved music, but she was terrible at singing, so if Wen Ning wasn’t too sleepy he’d hum a song for her. It made soothing vibrations in his chest. Humming always felt the best when it was for his sister.

After he finished the song and began drifting off to sleep, Wen Qing squeezed his hand every so often, letting him know she was still there.

Then he remembered sitting on Granny’s lap. Feeling the subtle rocking of her body as she weaved red thread into a tassel she gave to Wen Ning. It was a charm for luck and protection. Wen Ning carried it with him everywhere.

He lost it three years later while exploring a forest. Granny had not been mad. She just weaved him another. By then, Wen Ning had grown too big to sit on her lap, so he sat at her feet instead to watch her weave, feeling warmth on his back from the small fire crackling behind him.

He didn’t know where that tassel from Granny was now.

He remembered Wen Qing’s hand on his forehead. Those gentle pats that she always gave him. Sometimes soft, sometimes chiding, but always loving. How she had to stand up on tip-toes to reach him once he got too tall.

A flash in his mind. He was overwhelmed with pain of the labor camp at Qiongqi Path. Blisters on his hands from chipping away the carvings of the Wen Clan to replace them with murals of the Jin Clan.

Hypocrites.

Broken bones in his legs when he didn’t obey. Agony that had only been bearable because he shared it with his family.

And then—a wooden spear through his chest. Ghosts that tore at him. Darkness and freezing cold.

Crinkly papers stuck all over him, and hard rock under his back. Wei Wuxian and Wen Qing’s breath on his neck as they pleaded for him to come back, and how desperately he wished he could.

The day he did wake up, nothing felt the same. Not even his family embracing him in celebration, or Wen Qing hugging him tighter than she ever had before.

But he had felt her tears of joy—warm droplets on his dead skin—and that made him feel a little more alive.

He wished that he could cry now. That he had tears to drop into the dirt below the memorial, and maybe his tears would make Wen Qing a little more alive.

A hand in his.

The day he and Wen Qing stood before Jinlintai, Wen Ning had given his sister’s hand one last squeeze.

Why couldn’t he squeeze his sister’s hand again, and let her know that even now, he was still here?

A-Jie, please come to your next life soon. I will search until I find you.

Jiang Cheng was trembling as Wen Ning held him.

He hadn't been shaking so much before. Had the hot sun made the fever worse?

“Why did she choose Wei Wuxian?” Jiang Cheng said. His voice was quiet.

All Wen Ning could manage was a confused grunt in response.

“She gave her life for him.”

The shaking stopped.

“I should’ve been the one to do that!”

Wen Ning did not know how to react. Who would have expected that at his own family’s memorial, it would not be he who cried out, but the man who let them die? Jiang Cheng had feelings for Wen Qing once, he suspected, but he never would have thought they ran this deep.

“Wei Wuxian had already given up so much to let us live in peace a little longer,” Wen Ning said quietly. “It was the least we could do in return.”

Jiang Cheng gave him a perplexed look, as if Wen Ning had said something offensive and out of place. Then his expression melted into unease and he quickly turned away, like he was afraid of Wen Ning discovering something in his eyes.

Then Wen Ning understood. He had been talking about Jiang Yanli.

Both of them were mourning their older sisters.

Wen Ning decided that it would be kinder to pretend he didn’t know Jiang Cheng’s true thoughts. “She did like you,” he said.

Jiang Cheng shifted, but didn’t respond.

“Although she wished that you stood up for us. We all did. But in a way, we understood. No one’s position was easy back then.”

Stillness. Only the numb feeling of Jiang Cheng in his arms.

“You had your clan to worry about. And there was…” Wen Ning trailed off. There had been Jiang Yanli for Jiang Cheng to worry about, but it was better not to say that.

Jiang Yanli had gotten married while the Wens lived at the Burial Mounds. She had visited them, given Wen Ning soup he couldn’t taste, but he appreciated that soup more than most meals he had when he was still alive.

When Jiang Yanli visited, she had even let him see her bridal dress.

And I killed her husband.

Her own death was just as terrible. It hadn’t been at Wen Ning’s hand, but it might as well have been, linked as his sins were with Wei Wuxian’s.

Jiang Yanli would not have died if Wen Ning had been able to control himself at Qiongqi Path.

And neither would have Wen Qing.

A-Jie...

A thought that Wen Ning had been pushing down rose to the surface of his mind.

Was Wei Wuxian’s life more important than Wen Qing’s?

She had warned Wen Ning to stay away from Wei Wuxian. Yet he had chased after the boy over and over, first only doing small things like stealing Wen Qing's medicine to give to him, but eventually bringing Wei Wuxian, Jiang Cheng, and Jiang Yanli to Yiling as fugitives, when his sister had never asked to save them.

At the Burial Mounds, Wen Ning had tried to convince her not to turn herself in to the Jins. She hadn't listened.

But it was Wen Ning who owed the most to Wei Wuxian. Wen Qing had made enough sacrifices.

It should have been Wen Ning who went to Jinlintai. Only Wen Ning.

I should’ve protected her.

Would things have really been different had Jiang Cheng protected the Wens? Would Wen Qing still be alive?

His mind drifted back to the memorial in front of him, to Jiang Cheng, who now felt a little more solid in his arms.

“It’s okay,” Wen Ning said. “Caring about my family too late is better than never.”

“Don’t act like it’s worth anything now,” Jiang Cheng said bitterly. “You shouldn’t be so quick with empty words like that.”

“I didn’t mean that I forgive you. I don’t.”

Jiang Cheng shrugged and looked away from the memorial.

Wen Ning stared at the jar of dried apricots on the ground. It was such an inadequate offering for his sister, but he knew she would be happy with them anyway. She had never asked as much of Wen Ning as she should have. “There are others who will forgive you no matter what.”

Jiang Cheng began trembling again. Perhaps he was still thinking about his family.

Or maybe this time, it was Wen Ning who was trembling. Their movements were starting to blend together the longer they stood in front of the memorial.

They were not friends. Even by a stretch, they could barely be called allies. But if they were together right now, then they should be together, shouldn’t they?

Wen Ning took Jiang Cheng’s hand and squeezed it.

Jiang Cheng glanced down at their interlaced hands.

Wen Ning was not meant to touch the living. Not even A-Yuan accepted his touch without a shiver. Yet this felt natural, like it was the only thing meant to happen right now.

“I miss my sister too,” Wen Ning said, deciding to stop pretending that he didn’t know Jiang Cheng was thinking about Jiang Yanli.

“Your sister…your sister was a good person,” Jiang Cheng said.

“So was yours.”

The sound of Jiang Cheng’s breath became uneven, then slowly steadied. “...So are you.”

* * *

Thanks for reading! If you enjoyed this chapter, you can be a supportive sibling like Jiang Yanli by liking, reblogging, and visiting me on AO3.

Ch. 3 >

#chengning #ningcheng #mdzs fanfiction #the untamed fanfiction #mdzs fanfic #the untamed fanfic #powered by sufjan stevens #mdzs #the untamed #cql #jiang cheng #wen ning #jiang wanyin #wen qionglin #ifdchallenge2021 #emilu draws #emilu creations

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bts-babyjoonie · 3 years

Text

Potion Witch- Namkook AU CH1

Pairing: Namjoon X Jungkook

Tags: M for mature, Witch Jungkook x Witch Namjoon, fluff, clumsy Namjoon, eventual smut

Word count: 1,676

Summary: Namjoon is a potion making witch. He's also very clumsy and prone to making mistakes. Probably not the best thing when your job is to handle delicate substances. Every two weeks Namjoon goes into town with a wagon full of his potions. He delivers them to his buddy and closest business partner Jungkook. Lately, Jungkook has been having trouble falling asleep so he turns to Namjoon to make him a sleep remedy. Of course, Namjoon agrees and makes it for him, but he accidentally mixes up the potions and gives Jungkook the wrong one. The next thing he knew, Jungkook was a bunny.

He’s done it now hasn't he….

Namjoon was a clumsy witch. Which was not something to aw at considering the fact he was a potion maker. It was a very delicate process and a long-limbed creature such as himself would need to be extra cautious.

Namjoon made his potions in his own cabin home located in an isolated part of the dark forest. The human villages were terrified of what horrible things lay imbibed deep, but as a witch, Namjoon did not mind. When his potions were ready he would stack them up on a wagon and make a trip to town where his good witch friend Jungkook lived. None of the humans there knew Jungkook was a witch of course. He owned a hidden magic shop in the middle of the large town. It was hidden from all non-magic users.

Aside from being close friends, Namjoon and Jungkook were also great business partners. The reason for his weekly trip to town was to bring Jungkook the potions he ordered. Jungkook would tell him what he needed and Namjoon would go home and conjure up a batch. All for a price of course.

One calm morning, a day before Namjoons bi-weekly trip to town, a crow landed on his bedroom window. The loud caw startled him awake and he frantically turned his head towards the sound. It was the ebony bird perched on the window sill with a letter between its beak. Namjoon sighed in relief. It was just a messenger crow. Jungkook had most likely sent it to him. Perhaps he needed another potion added to tomorrow's delivery. He got out of his cozy bed and scuttled over to his window. Namjoon tried his best to gently open it, but the house was so old that it got stuck not even halfway. He tugged on it a bit harder and the window rolled up so quickly that it crashed into the top startling the poor crow.

“O-oh I’m so sorry little birdie, forgive me”, Namjoon apologized. The crow seemed annoyed but it did not mind him. The dark bird let the letter fall into the large palms of Namjoon's hands and flew away. Namjoon sighed, he didn't get to feed the crow the seeds he had been storing from the times he went foraging. He opened up the letter that was sealed with a red wax stamp and on it was a message from Jungkook.

Dear Joon,

I apologize for getting this to you so late but I have a request to make.

I’ve been having trouble sleeping lately and I was wondering if you

could brew me a sleep potion. It would be much obliged and I’ll make sure

To pay you a good sum as always.

Sincerely, Jungkook.

Namjoon did not mind at all. Jungkook was the first person to make him feel welcome in the area and besides, he thought the younger witch was cute.

Since he didn't have anything else to do for the day he got started on Jungkook's request. He added dry lavender, chamomile flowers, oats, and a couple of other ingredients into the boiling pot. Before long it was done; so he bottled it and placed it beside tomorrow's delivery. He wasn’t paying much attention when he set the bottle down to another one of a similar hue. The next morning Namjoon rounded up all the bottles and carefully put them in crates. He loaded the crates onto his wagon and walked over to his horse to feed him an apple before leaving. The trip to town was about 30 minutes and it wasn't long before Namjoon had arrived at the magic shop. Jungkook heard the sound of the wagon wheels approaching so he left the shop to go and help Namjoon out.

“Morning Joon, you got what I asked for?”, Jungkook asked. “Yes I sure do, let me take these crates inside and I'll hand it to you then”. Namjoon swung his leg over the horse's body and hopped down onto the cobblestone road. Jungkook grabbed one of the wooden crates in the back and Namjoon grabbed the other. The door to the shop was closed but with just a wave of Jungkook's index finger, it slowly crept open. Inside the store were walls and walls filled with interesting Knick knacks, magical books, and of course potions of many colors. Green ivy grew in the cracks and crevices of the stone wall and spread over some of the shelves. Small objects like teacups and paper cranes floated in the air and led up the stairs to the area where the more powerful and dangerous items were stored.

Namjoon always stared in awe every time he entered the store. The vibe of it all was something else. “You can set those on that table, I’ll organize them soon”, Jungkook suddenly spoke, interrupting the silence. Namjoon almost dropped the crates. He was always a bit jittery when it came to Jungkook.

He set the crates on the wooden table. Usually, it would carry items for sale but today it was empty. Namjoon set the crate of potions onto the table next to where Jungkooks placed his. Jungkook yawned loudly and it reminded Namjoon of the bottle he needed to give him. He went over to the crate and grabbed the potion with the dark blue hue.

“Here Jungkook, I have the remedy to your sleeping problems”, Namjoon said while handing the bottle over to him. He smiled upon receiving it and Namjoon’s heart swelled at the sight.

“Oh, by the way, you should probably take this with some tea. I made it pretty potent so you could have some leftover for other times. All you have to do is add four drops into a cup of tea and tonight you will have a restful slumber”, Namjoon explained.

“Then… would you like to have a cup of tea with me Namjoon?”.

Namjoon nodded with a shy smile, his dimples showing on his cheeks.

“Alright follow me into the back, we can have our tea in my kitchen”.

Namjoon followed Jungkook behind the register and into a room hidden by a curtain of vines.

Inside was a daint little kitchen. The cabinets were a sage green color and the floor was a dark cedar wood just like in the shop.

“Please, take a seat at the table. I’ll go make the tea. Would you like mint or black?”, Jungkook asked. “Mint would be nice”, Namjoon said softly. Jungkook smiled and went over to the ceramic jar where he kept his mint tea. Namjoon looked to the corner of the room where the round table was. There were only two chairs but it was perfect. Namjoon took a seat and a couple of minutes later Jungkook came over with the tea. He placed the blue and white teacup in front of Namjoon and put some biscuits in the middle of the table.

“I have your payment in my room I’ll go and get it real quick”, said Jungkook already turning his body to head into the other room.

“Wait!”, said Namjoon. “You don’t have to pay me. It’s not like you’ll be selling it to others so you can think of it as a favor”, he grinned. Jungkook stared at namjoons crescent moon eyes and softly smiled.

“Are you sure Joon? I really don’t mind paying you for this”.

“Yes I’m sure, just take it as a gift”.

Jungkook sat down at the table with Namjoon and pulled out the sleeping potion. He unscrewed the top and held it over his teacup letting exactly four drops fall in. Jungkook looked at Namjoon for reassurance and he urged him on. He brought the teacup up towards his face and placed his soft rosy lips onto the edge of the cup. He took a few sips and placed the cup back down.

“Wow, N-namjoon it’s a little *ahem* s-spicy isn’t it?”. Jungkook coughed from the discomfort he felt in his throat.

“S-spicy? It shouldn’t be spicy”, Namjoon said concern laced in his voice.

Blue smoke started emitting from Jungkook’s body and the boys grew more and more worried by the second.

“Um, Joon what the hell is going on right now?! What did you put in this?”, Jungkook gasped. It was getting harder to breathe. It felt as if his body was beginning to fold into itself.

“I p-put in all the ingredients a sleep potion needed! I don’t know w-why it’s reacting this way!”

“Well think!”, Jungkook yelped.

Namjoon put his brain to work for a moment trying to remember if he had added another ingredient that could’ve caused this reaction when all of a sudden realization dawned upon him. That’s not a sleep potion that a transfiguration potion! His careless self gave Jungkook the wrong potion!

“O-okay don’t freak out Jungkook I know what’s happening right now”, Namjoon reassured the younger boy.

“Don’t freak out?! IM FREAKING OUT NAMJOON”.

The smoke was getting thicker and it seemed like Jungkook was getting smaller. Namjoon knew what was happening. This was a transfiguration potion Jungkook had asked for that turns the user into their spirit animal. The problem is Namjoon made the potion extra strong, as per request. He wasn’t sure how he was going to get his friend out of this dilemma. God he should really stop going off of the colors of potions to identify them. Sometimes he had too much faith in himself.

The smoke stopped rising and as it dissipated Jungkook was nowhere to be seen.

“Umm, Jungkook? Where’d you go?”, Namjoon called.

“I’m on the stupid chair”, said a small high pitched voice.

Namjoon stepped away from his seat and looked under the table only to see a small bunny huddled where Jungkook had previously been sitting. He was completely covered in black fur and his eyes had that familiar dark shine.

Jungkook had turned into a bunny.

“I’ve done it now”, whispered Namjoon.

a/n: First fic on Tumblr woohoo! Not sure how many chapters there will be but we’ll see I guess :D.

#bangtan #namkook #bts namjoon #jungkook hybrid #bunny hybrid jungkook #namjoon x jungkook #bts #witch au #bts witch au #min yoongi #eventual smut #bts smut #sub!namjoon #dom!jungkook

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monkberries · 3 years

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Wait what's wrong with the AKOM How Do You Sleep episode? I remember it being fine but its been ages since i listened to it so if you've got any thoughts I'd love to hear them :)

Be aware, this is only about the first episode, not about the George-focused episode. If they resolve any of the issues I have with the first episode in the second episode, then I sincerely apologize.

First, there are some things they talk about that I agree with! Near the end of the episode, they discuss the dynamic between John and the people around him in a really insightful way, and in a way I’ve often thought about it; both John and the people around him were all kind of in this mindset of “oh, Paul rejected us? Well, we didn’t want him ANYWAY! So THERE!” They also discuss the fact that John was very easily manipulated, and nearly his entire support system (minus Ringo, and shame on them for not mentioning that) basically egged his anger and viciousness on. And they also play/read some interviews with John about the song and tangential subjects, and it’s always nice to hear primary sources.

However, much like their post about Lewisohn, I find a lot of this episode excessive, overtorqued, and generally far too exaggerated. They perceive an imbalance in narratives (which I do think is there, just not to the extent they say) and overcorrect, imho.

First, I want to get my opinion on the song itself out of the way: I listen to it a lot. It’s on my Fall 2020 playlist. I enjoy the musicality, the style; the mood it evokes is extremely strong to me. Sometimes it’s fun to indulge in feeling evil or mean without having to actually be evil or mean! Plus, I love playing it right before Jealous Guy, or Steel and Glass, or I Know (I Know), just to get that maximum John Lennon Mood Whiplash effect. I think George’s solo is vicious and perfect for the mood as well. However, the lyrics are pretty horrendous in terms of their effect on Paul and his feelings; they’re also horrendous in that they’re just not well-written lyrics. IMHO you can tell it was written by three different people all throwing insults at the wall to see what would stick and rhyme. Half of the digs don’t even make sense. “So Sgt. Pepper took you by surprise/You better see right through that mother’s eyes” Wut? “The one mistake you made was in your head” ??? The hell do these things even mean lmao

Anyway. Onto the episode itself.

Around 1 minute in, they say that there’s not a lot of check and balance in the Beatles fandom w/r/t this song, and that much of the fandom espouses that HDYS was “deserved” and “honest”. They reiterate this sentiment over in different ways throughout the episode, and I just do not see that kind of thing being a majority opinion in Beatles fandom spaces at all. Perhaps they are occupying different fandom spaces than I occupy (tumblr/Hey Dullblog/beatlebioreview), and it is true where they are? (In which case, my goodness, find some better blogs to follow, babes!) They talk about how they’ve never seen anyone pick it apart before, and that the discussion around it has not changed, that people have been saying Paul deserved it since it came out. Again, this is does not jive with my experience in the Beatles fandom.

From Shout!, a book with a well known anti-McCartney streak, published in 1981: “John’s Imagine album - despite the plea for universal peace and brotherhood in the title track - launched a thermo-nuclear strike back at Paul with ‘How Do You Sleep?’ a title suggesting crimes almost in the realm of first-degree murder. The McCartney references were unmistakable, and, often, cruelly unjust: ‘The freaks was right when they said you was dead... The only thing you done was Yesterday...’ There was even a two-fingered gesture of contempt for Paul’s new outdoor life with Linda on their Scottish farm.” Also, the RS review spends two paragraphs talking specifically about how heinous and unjustifiable HDYS is. You can definitely say that rock journalism takes some of the attitude of HDYS and runs with them, such as Paul’s music sounding like muzak - that sentiment certainly persisted. But I would argue that most of the shit journos are reacting to and buying into comes from Lennon Remembers primarily, where John says all the same crap and more, and worse, rather than HDYS itself, which they seem to balk at.

They make the claim as well that the Imagine LP has been elevated to some kind of untouchable, un-criticizeable status. In the years after his death, I think there is probably some truth to that, although again, untouchable is an extreme word. Even in 2003, the LP was number 80 on Rolling Stone’s top 500 albums of all time. However, it was 227 on NME’s list in 2013 and dropped to 223 on Rolling Stone’s new 2020 list, suggesting a waning in popularity over time and a willingness to look more objectively at the quality of it.

The thing that really bothered me about this episode is like... They talk about the need for nuanced discussion of the song, right? And that’s all fine and good, and I agree, nuance in any Beatles discussion is essential if you want to get close to any actual truth. However, they then go on to say, quite adamantly, that if you say the music of the song is good, even if you think the lyrics are awful, then they wouldn’t even bother having a conversation with you. It’s very “We want nuance! NO NOT LIKE THAT! YOU’RE DOING NUANCE WRONG!” Like, I’m sorry, the music is good, in my opinion! John is very good at evoking a mood! The fact that I think George’s solo is incredible, or that the keyboard riff gives me chills, or that I think the bass goes super hard, doesn’t mean I don’t understand how rough the lyrics are or the effect they had on Paul. In fact, imho, I think it’s important that we discuss how quality the music is because it underscores the calculated cruelty John exhibited. He worked hard on this song. He wanted to create a very specific feeling out of it, and he succeeded in spades. I think if it had been crappy musically, people would have been much more contemptuous of it than they already are. As I said earlier, some of the digs don’t even make sense; I think they’re bolstered and propped up specifically because the music underneath them is so good. Also, it’s not fucking wrong to enjoy a groove.

I also take some issue with them saying that HDYS was easily among the worst things John ever did. Like... equivalent or worse than going on anti-Semitic, homophobic rants? Yikes.

There are many instances in this episode where they will go “I often read things like...” or “Jean Jackets will say...” or “I see this a lot...” and then never actually talk about where they see these things or quote directly from them. One instance goes “I often read things like, ‘John Lennon is expressing years of pent-up resentment over creative differences’, as if John is some kind of, like, drunk art teacher doling out free advice to Paul on his music.” I’ve read a lot about HDYS and I don’t think I’ve ever seen anything like that. Just about every discussion of the song I’ve seen says very clearly that it was an unjustified, deeply personal attack. I realize there is an aversion to publicly Naming Names when you’re calling out people who perpetuate a bad narrative. But I want to know where this stuff comes from. I want to actually see what it is they’re upset about.

Lastly, they talk near the end about music innovation and experimentation, and this is where I think things go much too far in overcorrecting a narrative. The well-known narrative for many years post breakup was that Paul was a boring square who wrote granny music. That is true; he was much maligned in the press about that. However, I think post-Hertsgaard, post-Revolution In The Head, post-Complete Recording Sessions, and post-Many Years From Now, that attitude has changed quite a bit. Most serious Beatles fans know now that Paul was the first one to really get into Avant-Garde stuff; most fans know about the fact that he made McCartney 1 basically alone in a homemade studio. Most fans have probably heard or at least heard of Temporary Secretary, lmao.

But it feels like these women are still living in the past where Paul was still being maligned for being a square, so instead they go way far to the other end and say “Paul was the musical innovator, not John.” And that is just flat out NOT true. They were BOTH musical innovators. The fact that Paul was the first to get into avant-garde art does not exclude John from also being incredibly innovative and experimental in his own way. Perhaps he wasn’t doing that on Imagine; they are right that Imagine is a collection of really good but fairly commercial songs. But they utterly discount the fact that he did Strawberry Fields Forever, and I Want You (She’s So Heavy), popularized backmasking, was one of the first if not the first to use amp feedback in a song in I Feel Fine, experimented with recording his voice differently with Tomorrow Never Knows and Revolution, and also the entirety of Plastic Ono Band!!! You don’t have to downplay or erase John’s experimental contributions to music in order to elevate Paul’s. You can elevate both of them. It’s fine.

Also, this is the episode where they say Lewisohn’s book is exactly the same as all the other Jean Jackets books except thicker, and I have a viscerally bad reaction to that for many reasons I have already outlined on this blog. Suffice to say, it is demonstrably untrue (not least because Lewisohn hasn’t published anything in his Tune In series that goes beyond 1962) and unfair to someone who has done an unbelievable amount of legwork to back up his writing. They also compare Lewisohn to Goldman (???????) and call them John and Yoko’s “fuckin bitch boys saying the same shit over and over again.” I have to imagine Goldman was a misspeak and she meant someone else, but still that jarred me lmfao

#about the blogger #Anonymous #podcast blues

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startwithbrooklyn · 3 years

Text

THE GREAT ND REWATCH OF 2021 / SEPTEMBER 30, 2019 // larkspur lane/the whisper box

this post is a double whammy cause they have 2 eps happen in the same day if u can believe it (thats how awful judging timelines in this show is!!)

-"hi josh..." LMAOOOOOOO

-BESS just breaking in lmaooo how many god damn times does bess just shit the bed in this show

-LOVE her frowny face at nancys closet ("my expectations are low" lmfaoooo but this would totally be me)

-"bet she meant it metaphorically" okayyy but then why did lucy say that at all? i feel like theres defo more to this story, combined with josh's cagey behavior (part of which is to get nancy to stop looking into shit d/t him and karen but still)

-"they dont accept visitors unless they're family" .....🙂

-ace "youre really good at that" to bess i fuckin love this friendship with all my heart (also love their talk at the claw mirroring nick & nancys talk in the last ep)

-also PINK AND ORANGE BESS ARE U BLIND (also 1) why tf would nancy own this and 2) where would she wear it??)

-okay wtf is vampire dip

-"boss??" see this is what i meant yesterday about nancy ruining everything for nick/george

-god DAMN she sucks at dealing with this news lmaooo that emotional competency babey + love george literally agrees to help bc she feels bad (AND nicks immediate look of "you just reprimanded me for helping her last ep and i know why youre doing this rn" lmaoooo)

-LOVE george noticing nick "shout out to jean valjean" lmaooo once again nancy would never have noticed/commented on something like that

-"get the hell out of here" was this foreshadowing for an epic dad joke for these two eps? "how do you make holy water? you boil the hell out of it" 😂😂😂😂

-so what i dont get about the whole haunting is the ball + kids' laughter but its all the emphasis on "mr roper" the adult? wtf like what kind of entity is this

-"how did you ever have a solo career??" 😂

-okay amaya's hair is gorgeous here (also "you feel like a snack" ....👀) *ahhh so the reason bess feels so off balance is bc its like a top vs a top scenario

-has anyone who's ever been to prison confirmed this is what it looks like?

-love how ace is the only employee there when they all leave so he had to fucking close the place when he goes

-why does she take the whole file? time constraints? it'd be smarter to take pics + replace it (better sleuthing) but this place is clearly not well run anyway 😂

-so this is a pretty decent cover she invents but theres no way she would get away with it so easily for a real guard

-love how ace recognizes ryan's car (+ is able to find it by driving around)

-"my father wouldnt do anything like that" LMFAOOOOOO SIS WHY ARE U DEFENDING HIM ironically, ace is actually the best person suited to engage w ryan here d/t the car accident + connection with laura being ryans SIL. its a unique set up

-i am fascinated by the concept of priests + holy water being so effective here combined with mcginnis' beliefs and basically nondenominational ghosts/seances etc after that. the show is very clearly big on diversity but definitely steers clear from too much WASP stuff yk? wonder if other stuff from christianity works against the ghosts/demons like taking refuge in a church "holy ground" or using silver etc

-"did this start after the night of sept 10?" *this is where you get the time line for the seance if you didnt know

-this is so fucking funny when u realize that patient sal talks to is actually a ghost so sal really is psycho i guess 😂

-bitchsplain/tall jar of mayonnaise 🙏🏻😌 2gether 4ever

-how did ace get this van? also heart attack when he yells at carson (but then grins at him like a goofball lmaooo)

-"for nancys sake and yours" damn she owes ace big time for all this shit

-"what do we do for 7 minutes?" ...ummm play 7 minutes in heaven lmaooo 👀🥵

-was not expecting ace to look this sexy holding an axe but okay (*ah, its his short sleeve shirt showing his arms. usually hes a sleeves guy)

-"desperate for attention" nancy (from gomber) vs "bc she's starved for attention" patrice --> lucy (and candace also...) we know nancys detective work makes her seem like an attention seeker, but what was lucy doing to make them all think that? she was trying to hide her relationship with ryan, not expose it. unless they just mean the rumors about her?

-so is patrice hiding lucy's "truth" talking about lucy being a whore or lucy being a ghost? what is lucy's secret? did patrice guess she was pregnant or did patrice's somehow garbled mind remember tiffany trying to show patrice the video with lucy on it?

-wonder what captain thom thinks of this stand off w ace lmaooo

-"like you do?" top v top shenanigans

-how awko for carson to talk to karen again like this

-"oh no" ACE 😂

-love how amaya says "be a human" like shes kind of admitting people in rich circles typically arent (^this is an interesting focus in s2 when bess's rich family rejects her, thus making her human again, but nancy embraces her rich fam and experiences subsequent moral struggle which is predicted with the wraith)

-wonder what ryan thinks he could get from the marvins (which he cant get now lmaooo)

-this damn whisper box. so many questions. who named it the whisper box? why are the ropers' old possessions still there? who decided to build a mental hospital on top of it? and patrice! she "hid lucy's secrets" hannah gruen thinks tiffany tried to show patrice video w lucy on it, which patrice then specifically says she hid in the thin mans book. so patrice knows of the thin man? can she see him? does she know he was a ghost/supernatural? she must have a supernatural sense to know about him (unless sal told or some shit) so then when tiffany shows up w/ lucy being supernatural in it patrice hides it to protect her? is this why she is "crazy" kinda like victoria? supernatural elements or ability to sense ghosts makes her unstable? this is why lucy being a ghost/nursery rhyme that she repeats makes patrice worse/"stroke"? how did patrice even get into the whisper box to put the key in the bible and get out without getting trapped? also, her dementia --> lucidity is really fucking off, some people mildly switch like that but usually with dementia they cant even register new shit anymore

-...so did bess take the ride? 👀

-interesting how celia says "your father will be disappointed" but nothing of her own opinion. wonder how much celia truly puts up with to keep everett calm and nonhomicidal

-like george asking nick follow up questions that nancy never really would have asked

🥞🥞🥞(ep13)🥞🥞🥞

-is this bitch just eating a plain pancake with her bare hand?

-"extra case load and excessive volunteering" ugh. nancy's family here are like, gross in how "good" of people they are // unrealistic, trying to paint carson in the best light/ no way ryan could ever compare (but the reality is theyre not that good of people for lying about nancy) **and shes arrogant to think shes better than everyone else ie the only one who truly lives virtuously, thinks she can do no wrong sometimes even tho using sex to cope, breaking and entering, etc is not morally "good" stuff she still thinks she is the only one who doesnt lie and plays fair (like in the pilot she lists everyone else as a suspect but herself- obviously we know she isnt guilty but no one else does. (i mean in theory we really dont, what if nancy was an unreliable narrator and was actually guilty, that would be a hella cool show)its reactions like that where she cant understand why others like the chief suspect her

-ooooh ironic that in the Good Place carson readily agrees to pay her for helping with cases as opposed to s2 in reality

-nick's house has "problems" so why does he need a lawyer? as opposed to an interior designer, plumber, or realtor?

-in the Good Place nick and george realize they are not going to work out after one date. does this failure in the Good Place predict failure in reality, or merely an easier way of figuring out the truth? does this mean that the "opposite" of the Good Place is reality, or only an opinion of what is better? (nancy says "you all like me" as her opinion of them liking her is skewed; does this then only reflect nancys version for what is the "perfect life"?)

-why is bess a hippie??? and love how george curls her hair and wears pink lipstick here

-if this dream is so realistic then why is the one thing it cant conjure smoke? like how random

-love the locket being a key realization bc with things like jewelry you dont notice the weight of them until theyre gone

-"you all like me" in her perfect life nancy means they "like" her objectively/regardless of circumstance even though liking her is still an objective choice (like they "like" her because of other reasons instead of her working at the claw? (like how you make friends with coworkers/people at school every day but after you leave the job/graduate you never speak to them again) and her "thanks for showing up!" as if theyre not doing exactly that in reality 😐like where is she getting this shit? she sort of acknowledges in earlier eps she is hard to like/that she puts mysteries before friends, but also pushing them away to avoid danger like the previous ep "why do u show up" etc

-is it just me or does the inside of nicks "house" look like the drews'?

-nick has a dick scar lmaooooo (or more likely was hit in the balls or smth)

-love how nick + george match their anger in confronting sal 100% on the same level

-so when did ace go back to work after having such a busy day earlier?? lmaooo

-damn father shane is a creep (casting defo hired him for his voice) and how tf did he just poof + escape? and what did he request???

-love bess's white hair bow here 😌+ her jacket, whole outfit on point as usual

-like how bess is right that nancy has to find her way out but thats kind of a nonstarter for a room full of panicked people wanting to help

-in the Good Place theres no bad blood between drews + hudsons bc nancy is really theirs

-"the only one who has the key is you" in the Good Place nancy has the key (smaller picture, to finding out what happened to lucy but bigger picture, post-reveal) but ryan has the clues nancy needs- following the Good Place's mirroring, this just means that in reality ryan will either be completely useless or an active hindrance (but you KNOW this is a dream bc in what universe would ryan remember clues like that 😂)

-so in a perfect universe ryan acknowledges his family's "criminal empire" as opposed to reality where he only makes under cover jabs about disengaging with being an "entitled corrupt legacy criminal" ie finding the bonny scot relics but does nothing about them, etc

-"strippers" 😂

-okay what is nancys obsession w her beanie?? bc her mom made it? "wear beanies do crimes?" idk

-making the call: nancy -unable to make up for lost time/both her mothers had to find out/suffer alone / in the Good Place nancy was able to be with kate while she called, and in reality she had carson; somethig about seeing the mother looking to the daughter for strength in the Good Place instead of the reverse (which is what reality sounded like, kate being strong for nancy through the illness despite the struggle)

-concept: nancy & nick "let's wait out the storm"

-"i believe that you believe it" nick in the Good Place + owen in reality both trust nancy when she says she's seen things (owen's is the teeth) but nick in reality (and not really knowing details) doesnt think much of their "moment" bc it wasnt real (so she had to leave the Good Place to save carson- but if she had known then he wasnt her real dad, would she have stayed to be w nick?)

-stranger - suede james 💙👌🏻

-"really anxious as a kid" v telling bc of her desire to know everything to remain in control of situations like she always does now

-"the medicine or the metaphysics?"/"you cannot beat supernatural with science"

-i love nancy playing with her pinky while saying goodbye 🥺

-"always seek out the truth even if it hurts" this is straight irony bc kate never told nancy anything. like does that include the truth about nancys parentage? they taught her to seek out the truth, but who taught her that the truth is the only thing to live by? ie things dont count anymore like carson and kate straight up raising her is tossed out bc she finds out its not "the truth" like all that work/stress to protect carson + she just drops him? with kate maybe shes just upset thst she spent all that time mourning for someone who lied. and would she do the same to ryan if needed? probably

-bess and ace head tilt 💙

-like how for all the time she spent there nancy only has a subconscious memory of blue curtains

-YESSSSS i LOVEthese beautiful overhead shots of hannah's hands. so out of character for the show lmao but so gorgeous

-i feel like future eps/grand future will be nancy going through the lock boxes to help people who asked hannah for help

-the video is officially dated Aug 22, 2019

-soooooo in the first ep nancy breaks into the hudsons house and finds tiffanys secret drawer w the nail polish and finds the amulet with a note that says "for your protection HG" yet on this video tiffany says she talked to a medium who gave her the amulet sooooo am i just confused? HG is hannah gruen obvi so is the address for the medium what hannah gave her? or was the address on the amulet which nancy dissolved in salt water to see? so how would tiffany know where to go? its chicken and the egg which came first hannah or the medium?

and lastly:

i close these two eps with a thought that everything in this show is sealed in death. all the lies, the imagery, the fake constructs people put up to get by all crumple the second someone dies- all the secrets come clean just like these doors have been unsealed.

#brooklyn's ND primer #nancy drew cw #the Great Rewatch of 2021 #you best start believing in ghost stories miss drew - you're in one

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