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plutoswritingplanet · 3 months

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Vicarious (Homelander x Female!Reader) pt.2

a/n: at my young, spry age, writing a twitter thread felt like "how do you do fellow kids", y'all better appreciate the sacrifice, Cross-Posted on AO3

Warnings: General Creepy Behavior, Plus Sized Reader, my inability to write a press conference yeehaw

Summary: First time in front of the cameras, you try to embrace your new persona... For better or worse

Pt.1 Pt.3 Pt. 4 Pt. 5

This isn't you. You're not here.

The face staring back at you from the mirror might have some resemblance, but the heavy, over the top makeup distorts your features in a way, that makes you almost unrecognizable. The moment you've signed that contract, someone took your soul straight out of your body, containing it in a box, far from your reach. Sometimes you can almost feel it, the real you, like a ghost passing through a room. The Smirnoff you've carefully crafted over the years. She's in the way you walk, shoulders hunched, like you're carrying the weight of the world on them. In the heavy feeling of cigarette smoke, settling into your lungs after a rough day.

In the shower, you can almost hear her as well. Your voice is off-key, low, and doesn't seem to remember half the words, but it's much more genuine than the chirpy, lobotomized tone they commanded you to talk in. Media training was pure hell. It only lasted an hour, as your schedule appeared to be pretty tight, but the way Ashley spoke to you, with an air of patronizing authority, made you grit your teeth at the mere memory.

This body, soft and pliable, stuffed crudely into a corset that dug itself into your skin, like it was trying to force you to fit a mold. Those exposed, fishnet clad legs, were not yours as well. They were surely someone else's. Yours were hidden under all those flowery long skirts you've gathered over the years, so proud of your thrifted collection, which is now gathering dust back home. That's where you left the box with your soul, stacked it away under flowy linens and music sheets from your lessons.

You ponder over this feeling. This complete separation from your body. Perhaps this was your true superpower. And then your phone alarm goes off, and everything is shoved down, as your platform boots... No... Fireball's platform boots, carry you out of your room and down the corridor.

Homelander is already waiting for you, his stature imposing, looming over a crowd of backstage workers, as they clean off any imperfections before the press conference. His eyes snap towards you, the moment you step into the room, and you swallow thickly, remembering your last, admittedly, very fucking weird interaction. Ashley flashes past you, giving you a quick once over, seemingly satisfied with your look. It's hard to tell really, she always seems to find some flaw that needs to be corrected.

- Did you read the talking points? - she asks, her eyes flickering between you, and her tablet.

- Mhm... - too low, you think, adjusting the tone of your voice slightly.

There's a lot of people, more than what you're used to. Moving past the red-head, you sneak a peak behind the heavy curtain, separating you from the reporters chattering outside. What you see, does nothing to calm your nerves, as your eyes scan over a crowd of smart dressed people, the microphones, the cameras.

Perhaps, just perhaps, you've bitten off more than you can chew.

- Nervous? - a familiar voice says to your side, and you pull back, like you've been caught with your hand in the cookie jar.

Homelander looks almost exactly how you remember, when you saw him the first time. When he tried to convince you, he's every bit the perfect person from his movies. There's a charming smile plastered on his face, and he holds himself with an air of heroic otherworldliness, not a trace of the creepy, leering supe you've come to know. Your eyebrows furrow, but you decide to play along. You're not alone here, there's constant buzzing of surveilence around you, after all.

- Very much, yeah - you admit, sincerely, throwing a cautious look towards the podium.

He laughs in a weirdly boyish manner. You imagine, this is how a Ken doll would laugh, if it was alive. His hand reaches up, grabbing your shoulder and giving it a reassuring squeeze. His touch feels like needles on your skin, but you smile nonetheless. Cameras, remember the cameras. There are people all around you, and as such, someone is surely watching.

- Don't worry, you'll do great - he announces, then leans forward, until his face stops mere inches from your ear, making your body freeze up at the proximity - Don't even think about embarrassing me out there. No outbursts, no remarks, just keep on smiling and be the fucking mascot they hired you to be.

Okay, ouch. He leans back, his expression never changing from that same, bright smile. You blink up at him a couple of times. It's honestly impressing, how he keeps up the appearance of a perfect, selfless hero.

- Fucking hell, okay...

This time, the squeeze is anything but comforting, and you can feel all of his fingers dig into the meat of your shoulder.

- Language - he scolds you with a pointed finger, and to anyone standing on the outside, the gesture might seem endearing.

You know the truth however, and it takes a lot of strength out of you, not to flip him off. It seems he's taking the role of a mentor a bit too seriously. Or perhaps, he's just a patronizing asshole. As you watch his plastic smile, you're more and more inclined to believe the second option.

Still, there is something grounding in the way he holds you close, his hand steering you towards the curtain, and as it leaves your shoulder, you find yourself feeling conflicted. Especially now, since the announcer is saying your name to the sound of moderate applause, which intensifies as soon as the curtain moves to the side, exposing you, and Homelander to the hungry eyes of the reporters.

You knees start to wobble, as you're suddenly confronted with the reality of the flashing cameras, the lights, the voices. Your heart beats out of your chest, anxiety slowly but surely overtaking your body, and not knowing any other alternative, your hand reaches out in a gesture bordering on desperation.

Homelander flinches, when your fingers grab onto the material of his glove. His eyes flicker towards you for just a moment, taking in the rapidity of your pulse, thrumming through your veins. The shortness of breath, as your nails bite into the custom made leather. Your eyes are locked onto the reporters, and your body seems to be stuck in an awkward pose, in-between steps. Out of all the things, that could frighten you in your, frankly, hopeless situation, crowds were an unexpected turn of events.

So much for the strong, independent whatever. Homelander lets your hand linger for just a moment, if only to amuse himself further, before he steps forward to the podium, adjusting the microphone to his height. Your fingers curl around air, and you force your back to straighten.

- Ladies and Gentlemen, thank you all for coming - his voice booms through the conference room, and he takes a small pause, letting the applause subside - As you've probably been informed, I'm here to announce a very special, new member of The Seven. She'll be joining the team on a temporary basis, as a replacement for Lamplighter.

Shit. You swallow thickly, and Homelander's smirk grows into something sharper at the sound, hidden from everyone else but himself.

- I give you, Fireball!

He turns to you with a flourish, inviting you to step towards the podium. Your eyes flicker towards his, and he gives you a pointed look, that makes your heart sink to the floor. Here you are, presented to the wolves by a much worse monster. Deep breaths, remember that fated hour of media training. There's a role to play, after all.

This isn't you. You're not here.

A bright, practiced smile floats onto your features, and finally you take a step forward, your hands curling into tight fists at your sides. You can feel the texture of your matte lipstic pull at your lips, the high-end eyeliner sticking the corners of your eyes together. The reporters clap politely, and you try to focus on a point above their heads, like they taught you in high school. The last time you've been in front of such a crowd, was when your friend roped you into taking part in a student reedition of Heathers. A fucking miserable affair.

You're a little bit too quiet, for a little bit too long, and Homelander bristles out of the corner of your eye. You can see his chest expand, as he inhales deeply. Then, he moves in front of you, standing closer to the microphone, and intentionally or not, saving you from all the curious looks. You take a moment to gather your bearings, closing your eyes for just a second.

- Now, we have limited time for questions, so let's keep it simple - he announces, scanning the crowd of raised hands. - Gentleman in the back?

- Hi, John Douglas VNN. A question for Fireball?

Homelander turns to you with that same, plastic smile, and you nod, trying to convince yourself, more than him, that you're ready to speak. He moves aside, just enough to make a sliver of space for you in front of the microphone, and you step up with a sigh.

- Hey, what's up? - there's a tremble to your voice, which you try to swallow down.

- I think we're all surprised by you joining The Seven - the man comments with a smirk - Can you tell us some more about the recruitment process?

You take a deep breath, imagine your friend in front of you, and lean against the podium with a lazy smile. You're not here, after all. This isn't you.

- Well, a video of me, helping out during a house fire went viral, and soon enough Vaught has offered me a temporary partnership. - there's a playful tilt to your words, and you can already see all the comments pouring in - Besides, y'all have seen the contract.

There's a murmur of sheepish laughter rolling over the conference room, and you swallow thickly, trying to fight off the dryness in your throat.

- Here, at the front? - Homelander cuts in, leaning closer as he speaks to the microphone.

Absent-mindedly, you note he smells very, almost obscenely expensive, and your nose crinkles slightly as you take a breath.

- Mileena Johnson, News Nation - a woman in a tasteful costume stands up - Given this sudden interest from Vaught, is it safe to assume you're not used to all this?

She looks around the room, then back to you and mirrors your smile, flashing her perfectly white teeth. With a sardonic expression, you lean towards the microphone again, some unknown, mischievous note entering your voice.

- Oh, yeah! - you confirm - I'm a media virgin, through and through.

There's a strangled sound of multiple people laughing, some reporters clearly thrilled by the joke, others shaking their head disapprovingly. There's a large portion just staring at you, and you fight off the urge to cringe at your own words. Then, there's a small noise, somewhere next to you, and pushed by curiosity, you look over at Homelander. He looks conflicted between keeping up the smile, and stepping in, eventually opting to lean back, his eyes shifting between you and the reporters with a hint of curiosity hidden behind them.

And then he moves, shifting ever so slightly behind you, his hand finding purchase on the lower part of your back, his fingertips drumming lightly against the zipper. Your back straightens like a guitar string, a shiver of something running up your spine. With his free hand, he points towards another reporter, who stands up and introduces himself politely.

It's hard for you to focus.

- How, in your opinion, an addition of such a young Hero will affect the team?

Homelander's hand climbs higher, towards the edge of your corset. You can feel his gloved fingertips dance across the stitching.

- I'll do everything in my power to help the Seven fight for peace - you answer, voice slightly choked up, but your expression remains impassive.

- That's right! - Homelander chimes in, suddenly much more animated - Such a young, fresh, addition will surely motivate us to push ourselves even harder.

Another reporter raises her hand, and you're starting to scream internally, as Homelander's gloved hand abandons your corset in favor of running up your bare skin. Your smile falters for just a second, as he grabs onto the back of your neck, squeezing a few times, before letting his hand rest under your hair.

- Something for the tabloids? - the reporter announces - I have to say, the both of you look great together, and since Homelander's recent breakup with Queen Meave, we're wondering, what exactly is the relationship between the two of you?

Fuck, fuckitty fuck fuck fuck, your brain scrambles for a proper response. That was not included in the talking points. Although eventual shipping was expected, you were aware of the culture, you though it would take some time for the thing to sail away. Unfortunately, the reporter blinks expectantly, and the longer you stay silent, the worse the rumors will undoubtedly get. Out of the corner of your eye, you can already see Homelander lean towards the mic, and knowing deep in your bones, that whatever he says, will be humiliating, you lurch forwards.

- We're coworkers. He's my mentor, I'm his student. Do with that, what y'all want.

- Right, is there a chance that a romance may bloom? - the reporter pushes further, adjusting her glasses on her nose.

- I met him yesterday, y'all - you comment with an exasperated sigh, and force yourself to ignore the way Homelander's finger tangles itself into the hair growing at the base of your skull.

The reporter laughs and sits down, and this time you can't stop the sigh of relief from escaping your lips. Another hand shoots up in the back of the room, and Homelander points to it over your shoulder. A man in his thirties stands up, and even blinded by the reflectors, you can see the cocky smirk on his face.

- I've seen the video - he starts, a flippant tone entering his voice - And I couldn't help but wonder, how did Vaught even let someone so inexperienced into the Tower?

It's quiet, dozens of eyes flicker nervously between you and Homelander, and his hand stills at your back. You're not here. This isn't you. And so, lips pulled back into a mean bastardization of a bright smile, you lean heavily on the podium, letting it all, proverbially, hang out.

- I flashed the doorman.

You don't have to have a degree in media analysis to notice the sudden uptake in flashing lights. Homelander's hand falls from your back in a languid motion, the leather of his glove dragging itself down your spine, before he moves, and takes up the entirety of space in front of the podium.

- And on that - he pauses, and pretends to look back at you, too lazy to actually commit to the bit - thrilling note, I'm afraid that's all the time we have for today. Thank you all for coming. God bless you all!

You wave a half assed goodbye to all the gathered people, and before anyone can say anything else, you turn on your heel and walk back towards a very pissed-off-looking Ashley. The white light of her tablet is illuminating her scowl, and involuntarily, you groan.

- What the fuck was that? - she asks, before you get one word out - Freezing up like an idiot? Making stupid fucking jokes?

Homelander enters soon after you, his expression unreadable. He stands in the back, arms crossed in front of his chest, observing your interaction with Ashley. Seemingly pondering over something. His inaction, somehow, makes flames of irritation rise inside your gut, and you direct your anger towards the red-headed woman.

- Stillwell is going to have my fucking head - Ashley lamments, eyes locked onto her tablet - This will be horrible for your ratings, not to mention Homelander's.

With a roll of your eyes, you step closer, grabbing the hardware and consequently, forcing her to look up at you.

- Oh yeah? - there's a note of bravery entering your voice, and Homelander's eyebrow shoots upwards - Check fucking Twitter.

For just a second, Ashley hesitates, blinking at you owlishly. Then, she taps away at the tablet, her features illuminated with blue. Homelander's hashtag is trending, as expected, but you can see your given Hero name right under it. The third hashtag makes you smirk. Ashley starts reading out loud.

"Have y'all seen that interaction between #Homelander and #Fireball?"

There's a video, couple seconds long, where you can see yourself, frozen with nerves backstage, Homelander leaning over your form. From afar, it looks comforting, cute even. You smirk. It cuts to the moment his hand sneaked up your back. Even to you, the gesture looks like a show of support, although you're sure some groups of people will run with the romance storyline.

"I have an anxiety disorder, and #Fireball is showing clear signs of an anxiety attack"

"No media training seen in the room #iconic"

"Aww, look at #Homelander comforting her, they're so cute together"

"Did we collectively forget what he said during that graduation speech?"

"Let's normalize people learning and growing"

"It's honestly heartwarming, seeing someone with mental health problems in The Seven, I finally feel represented"

"And can we talk about how #Homelander handled the situation? Truly, #AmericasGreatestHero"

"#MentalHealthKing"

It's quiet on set for a long moment, as both Ashley and Homelander seem to take in this one Twitter thread, among many similar ones. You, holding in laughter to the best of your abilities, wait patiently, until Ashley finally looks up at you.

- I know, why I'm here - you tell her, and something passes across her features.

She clears her throat, swiping on her tablet.

- You have training with Black Noir in an hour - she informs you, her voice back to that professional, emotionless tone - We'll get some footage of it out to the public, so try to behave.

- Yes Ma'am - you smile, and once again, she gives you a strange look, before turning on her heels, and walking away, a satisfied lightness to her steps.

It's only you and Homelander left backstage, and as you turn to face him, he's already looking at you with an appraising gaze. Despite yourself, despite his borderline creepy behavior, and the threats, and the touches, you can't help, but smile. It starts off slow, a small smirk pulling at the corners of your mouth, but soon after that, all your teeth are on display. Because fuck it, you're proud of yourself, and for the first time since you've met him, Homelander doesn't look at you like you're a cut of meat on a bucther's rack.

- That went so much better, than I expected - you breathe out, and he nods.

- It sure was something - he says, leaning on a nearby pillar.

You bark a short laugh at his admission, the adrenaline from your first real encounter with the press, keeping you on a high you were not expecting. There's buzzing at the end of your fingertips, and you shake your hands, trying to dispell some of the energy.

- Oh, I was ready to shit myself - you huff, shaking your head.

Homelander sucks on his teeth, his eyebrow shooting up.

- Language. - he reminds you, and you put up your hands in mock surrender.

It's easy, riding the wave of your newly found success. As such, you ignore the way his eyes glide all over your body, stopping rather obscenely at your chest. You pretend not to notice, the way his hands twitch at his sides, and you definitely don't see the tightness in his lower area. No, all of it doesn't matter, because you've proven your worth, not as much to Homelander, but to the company, and fuck, if it didn't feel good.

Your enthusiasm turns to ashes in your mouth, as Homelander leans forward, invading your personal space like it wasn't yours to begin with. There's a glint of barely masked anger in his eyes, the blue of his irises getting swallowed by a dangerous, red sheen. Not enough to hurt anyone, but enough to let you know, you're on thin ice. Which confuses you beyond belief, because up until this point, you thought everything went peachy.

A gloved hand sneaks up, towards you chin, fingers digging into your flesh hard enough, you can imagine them chipping the bones underneath.

- Next time - he seethes through gritted teeth - Keep your fucking mouth in check, or I'll find a better use for it.

Oh, that's new. Your soul leaves your body once again, the box locking it away with a click, that sounds like thunder in your ears. Homelander frowns, as if he can see the change happen right before his eyes. And perhaps, even through the fog of anger, he's perceptive enough. His posture falters slightly, as you take a step in his direction, or, more likely, Fireball does.

- Why wait, I'm standing right here - the challenging note in your voice surprises both of you.

He blinks. You blink. And then, his face changes completely. The authoritarian expression of anger melts away into something you'd never expect. An almost childish sort of giddiness enters his eyes, and if you were yourself, not Fireball, you would've found the sparkling blue of his eyes enchanting. Terrifying, but impossible to look away. You should be thankful for this separation, it is surely saving your sanity.

Before he can act out whatever his twisted, blonde mind conjured up, you slip past him like smoke out the window, your platform boots clicking against the floor. It doesn't matter, none of it matters. This isn't you after all. You're not here.

It's long past her working hours, when Stillwelll finally has the time to sit down and unwind. Her phone screen reflects in the lenses of her reading glasses, a recognizable, Twitter-blue illuminating her features. Her eyes scan the site for a moment, and then, suddenly, her hand comes up to cover her mouth.

There it is. A picture of her best project to date. You're standing awkwardly, shoulders tense, a sheen of sweat on your forehead mingling with a foundation, that's worth more than your entire wardrobe back home. Homelander's hand is holding you securely, fingers splayed at the skin of your back. And above the picture... "#MentalHealthKing"

Stillwell laughs, quietly but sincerely. Who would've thought.

#my writing #homelander x reader #homelander x you #homelander fanfiction #homelander #the boys fanfiction #the boys amazon #the boys x reader #plus size reader #thank you charli xcx i listened to 365 and guess in a loop while writing this #till the windows crack ill be bumpin that

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witches-dream · 4 days

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Imagine you have a son, and he's growing very disciplined, which is good, but he's very introverted, not really in a shut-in kinda way, he just seems very unapproachable to people, and he is, because he's just so serious all the time. Like you look at him and, yeah, he's gonna be great warrior, but you also wish that he could. Socialize a little?

So your son grows up and leaves to fulfill some kinda grand goal and you're like "ok, son", still kinda worried about him, but he's not your baby anymore, he can do what he wants. So he leaves and after a few days you hear this earth-shattering lightning strike, no storm before or after or anything, everybody is wondering what happened and if you'll all die soon. Nothing happens past that, actually, it feels strangely peaceful. So after a few days your son comes back and he doesn't look any different, but he has definitely changed in like a week or two that he was gone. So he says "father, I have defeated the black and white dragons". You're kinda shocked, but that explains the lightning strike and how everything went quiet after it, and your son is not one to lie, so you you say "oh, for real? neat". "They are not going to bother anyone anymore." Your son says in a solemn tone. Later, everyone celebrates but he doesn't come. You knock into his room, and, even through a closed door, you can feel some sort of power, warmth radiating from it. He opens the door and his sword looks... Different. First of all, it's much bigger. It has a completely different shape. And there's this... Purple gem on its handle and it's glowing brightly. Nobody in this village could've forged such an otherworldly masterpiece. So you ask "got a new sword, son?" He says "Yeah. It's a Soul Jam, actually." "A Soul Jam? Never heard of it." "I will tell you later."

He reluctantly agrees to join the celebration, but after a few weeks he leaves the village. He starts building a citadel, and walling off the coast of the Licorice Sea. People are already calling him Your Majesty, though he's slow on accepting that title. Many decades pass and you're so old you can't get out of the house on your own anymore. Your son visits and he looks the exact same as when he left. He takes care of you, with the same cold face he's always had, though his hands are warm and him just being there warms your heart. You strain your old and tired vocal cords to utter "I'm proud of you, son." He's silent, but he nods, and his long hair obscures his face, but you can imagine he's happy to hear that.

It's after you die that he accepts the throne, and the title of King that was decided by the people whose respect for him towered the mountains. And, as it turns out, your son is immortal now. And, through the years, through the decades and centuries and even millennia, he takes the utmost care of all his subordinates, he remembers every face of his every warrior and he etches out their names and immortalizes them and prays to them each day.

Your son does many great things, many heroic deeds. He defends the kingdom he founded with a resolution of a true warrior. Your son made friends. There's only four of them, they are heroes of their own lands just like him, so they're busy most of the time, but they go on adventures and they have fun once a couple of centuries. Your son also makes many mistakes, says things he deeply regrets. He has a son, and, even being thousands of years old, he still thinks of you and wishes he could be even half as great a father as you were.

Maybe sometimes your son wishes you were around to lend a word of advice, or to say "I'm proud of you" one more time. Other times, he's ashamed of a thought that you might be out there somewhere, watching him from the heavens and shaking your head in disapproval. You have no way of telling him you love him either way, with all his virtues and all his vices alike. What matters is that, in the end, your son overcomes all adversities and becomes a better person. He was given a unique chance in life: to have infinite time to learn, and he uses all that time to become a better person.

You have no regrets. You can rest peacefully, knowing you have raised a hero.

#cookie run #cookie run kingdom #dark cacao cookie #my art #it started as a joke but then it became something somewhat serious so i hope you still enjoy lol

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forthegothicheroine · 8 days

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are there any characters from Victorian horror/genre fiction who are essentially superheroes? Had the realization that Frankenstein, Moreau, Griffin, Rappacini, and Jekyll are basically Batman's rogues gallery and yeah I could make an OC hero to go up against them but it feels more fun to pit someone also from that era against them (for the purposes of this I am excluding Holmes and Van Helsing just because they have been used similarly a lot, the Scarlet Pimpernel is a strong maybe although it would have to be a descendant for the timeline to work but a heroic character with some sort of powers and/or otherworldly backstory would be most ideal). Thanks!

I would love to read a book about this!

Horror is a hard genre for superheroes to fit into (although it has been done), as we want to feel that our protagonists are in danger or even totally helpless. I can think of a few antiheroes from the penny dreadfuls here- Varney the Vampire, and Wagner the Wehr-Wolf, both of whom had superpowers and both of whom could be sympathetic or unsympathetic depending on the serial installment. If you didn't want to use them directly, you could have Varney as someone who turned your hero, or Wagner someone who got your hero to sign an infernal contract like Ghostrider (something you're apparently able to do for other people once you've signed your own infernal contract.)

C. Auguste Dupin is another great detective if you want that kind of hero but one less frequently used than Holmes.

One VERY weird option that's at your disposal is Jane Eyre, if you expand the bit where she hears Rochester call out to her despite being far away into her being generally psychic. You could do something similar with Mina's psychic link to Dracula- maybe it turns out to be to all supernatural creatures?

Followers, any further suggestions?

#gothic literature

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comicaurora · 1 year

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Have you seen the new Superman show on adult swim? Himbo Clark Kent rights

It's off to an extremely encouraging start! Thoughts under the cut!

I like how they portray Clark's super-strength and how comfortable he is flying and using super-speed. They really feel like innate characteristics of his body rather than powers he switches on and off - things he keeps toned down when people are watching, but things that are always present regardless. The number of times I've pulled a push door or shoved something that was stuck and thought "if I had super-strength I wouldn't get a Take Two on this because my hand would've gone straight through that" is clearly something the showrunners have also thought about. This Clark lives in a world of cardboard and physically cannot stop himself from putting his hand through it at least once a day.

There's a physicality to the way Clark takes hits that really communicates how little he feels them most of the time. Eyes open, mouth closed, immediately getting back into the fight after getting punched into a crater. This is stuff I also think about when I draw supernaturally tough characters in combat situations, and it's cool to see someone else doing it - especially since one of my very few complaints about the older DCAU is that Superman always took every hit like it was a fully incapacitating blow, which Worf'd him pretty constantly.

I also like that we have so far never seen Clark angry. We've seen him scared, flustered, disappointed - but not angry. Even in fights where he's taking serious hits, he's only motivated by wanting to protect and save people, even his opponents - he so far has never been motivated by a desire to destroy. That feels like very good writing for Superman.

It's currently a little unclear how exactly his powerset is scaling - it looks like the blue-eye-glow-and-suit-emblem thing is a legitimate powerup that lets him hit harder and recover faster than his normal baseline, but how exactly that works isn't clear yet - although that is very obviously going to be a plot point later, since they keep giving him little flashes of the story of Krypton's destruction and what shenanigans they were getting up to when it exploded.

On that note, Kryptonian tech has never looked or felt so otherworldly. I love the distorted electronic backward-voice choir they use exclusively for when Clark is on the ship. I love that hologram Jor-El can't speak English, but can clearly understand Clark - also this is the coolest Jor-El has ever looked. Some comics wax poetic about how Clark is an alien space god who only pretends to be human, but I like how this show is firmly putting Clark on the side of the audience with regards to how unsettling the "alien space god" vibes truly are. He can't understand the nature of the ship or the words of its holographic inhabitant, he's not really interested in what it means or where it came from - he just wants to know who he is, or rather who Superman should be. And I like that he concludes that Superman should be him - the heroics he was already doing, except this time on purpose. Superman should not be this spooky glowing alien god thing, even if that's the vibe we get from Krypton itself.

I like that the ship gave Superman his modern no-underpants-on-the-outside suit and Ma Kent was like "we can do better than that" and added the underpants back on.

I also like how much setup there is for future plot stuff that a DC-familiar audience can see coming. Clark hasn't used any of his vision-based powers yet, and it's possible he doesn't know they exist. No sign of Lex Luthor or Kryptonite yet, two problems we know will become more severe with time. We've already got Amanda Waller being stoically nefarious in the background. Young Hot Deathstroke is a hell of a design choice and I am Here For It.

I also appreciate how many little referential jokes are packed into the dialogue, ranging from the obvious "it's a bird it's a plane" to some hella deep pulls like Jimmy Olson's youtube channel.

And fundamentally I love how this show starts from the jump with the thesis that friendly, humble, Normal Man Clark is the real person, and Superman is the job that Clark Kent does. The title of the show is "My Adventures With Superman." The POV character is Clark. He is the "my" in that title. This is Clark's story about Superman.

I really, really hope Batman eventually shows up, because this Superman would make that hilarious.

#asks #not aurora #media recs

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whataperfectwasteoftime · 2 months

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The Rift - Chapter Five

Pairing: Marcus Moreno x Marcus Acacius x Marcus Pike x f!Reader

Rating: M, adult content, 18+ only. Next chapter will be E!!

Word Count: 2.5k

Warnings: Marcus Acacius is a shameless flirt, yearning and sexual tension, Marcus Acacius as the author stand-in who gets impatient and straight up pushes everyone's face together

Summary: At the same time that Marcus Acacius is growing more and more accustomed to modern living, you are settling into your strange new life with an unconventional roommate who only speaks Latin, an FBI Agent you're secretly in love with, and the leader of the Heroics. All three of them are mainstays at your apartment, and you couldn't love the situation more. Or could you?

A/N: Is it heating up in here, or is it just me?

Masterlist | Chapter Four | Next chapter>>

(Acacius)

Marcus Acacius performs the now-familiar task of turning on the water for a hot shower, turning the little handle to exactly where you showed him and pulling the little knob on the faucet. Water immediately cascades into the tub, and as he steps under the hot spray with a satisfied groan, he wonders to himself why he desires to return home at all.

Now that more intricate, technical conversations are possible with the help of Moreno’s magic devices, you and Pike have been able to explain in more detail about the strange world he finds himself in.

Now he understands that he has traveled thousands of years into the future, and many of the incomprehensible things he’s seen have begun to make sense. Having studied history in his own time, he’s perfectly familiar with the progression of society and invention. Extrapolate this over thousands of years, and you have such things as cars, skyscrapers, and tee-vees.

He could ask question after question about this world all day long, but the two of you seem just as interested in his life, and he finds himself talking about his service as a general, the wars he’s fought in, and even stories of his childhood.

The other man, Moreno, seems to be curious too, and stops by every few days for dinner and conversation, and the four of you often talk late into the night, satisfying his every curiosity from airplanes to elevators. One night, he receives a crash course in the meaning of the word ‘Heroic,’ discovering the man’s otherworldly abilities when someone bumps into a small table, sending a lamp crashing to the floor. Or, it would have crashed to the floor, if it had not begun floating in the middle of the air just before reaching the ground. He watches in dumbfounded awe as the Hero guides the metal object through the air with one hand outstretched and sets it back down gently on the table.

Marcus Acacius is… content.

He dresses himself in some of the new clothing you and Marcus had given him, puts his translator in a pocket, carefully places the earpiece in one ear, and heads to the kitchen.

“Morning!” you greet him brightly. “Marcus has a few meetings that he had to go in for, so it’s just us today until the afternoon.”

He nods good-naturedly and gives you a smile. You always seem to fluster when he does so, and he isn’t sure how to react. In his own time, he had no trouble calling on women–or men, for that matter–but this world is so different, and he does not know the conventions of courting, or what is considered to be proper and improper. Both you and Pike are attractive, and you both fascinate him. If he were in his element, at one of the Emperor’s feasts, perhaps, he would entertain the two of you at once. As a high-ranking official, he’s certainly no stranger to the pleasure of many bodies entwined on a bed at once.

He wonders, sometimes, if this sort of thing is still done.

Marcus retrieves a mug from the cabinet and fills it with the black coffee drink you and Pike enjoy so much. He finds he rather likes it too, provided enough sweet cream and sugar are added to dilute the bitter taste. He swirls a spoon around, watching as the drink takes on a lighter shade of brown.

“What do you want to do today?” you ask as you sip from your own mug.

Marcus thinks for a moment. “I want to watch another one of these ‘films’ that you put on the teevee.”

You laugh. “You liked that, huh? How about we wait for Marcus to get home, and then we’ll watch another.”

“I like the one with the small people and the magic ring.”

“I figured you would.”

“In that case, do you have any more books that are in my language?” He had already finished the first one you’d given him, happy to have something familiar and comforting in his hands.

“Oh, absolutely,” you answer. “Come with me. We’ll find you something.”

He follows you into the little room that is filled from floor to ceiling with books and watches you peruse the shelves.

“If it is no longer spoken by any living person, as you say, why are so many of your books in my language?”

You pause thoughtfully, one finger resting on the spine of a book. “People have studied these works for centuries. Historians, philosophers, politicians–many people in this time study the works of people who lived thousands of years ago.”

“I find it comforting,” Marcus muses, “that there is so much of this world that I do not recognize, and yet these words endure.” He thinks for a moment, frowning. “How is it that so many people are familiar with these texts if the language is no longer spoken?”

“Oh, well most people read them in English–or whatever modern language they speak.”

“And yet you have them as they were written,” he points out.

You duck your head bashfully and look away from him–Why? “What I do for work…” you begin carefully. “I study ancient–well, ancient to us–civilizations. My specialty is Imperial Era Rome–your time. I’m kind of considered to be an expert.” You laugh nervously, still looking away from him as you explain.

Marcus finds it endearing, your reticence, but your area of study explains why the Agent brought him to you in the first place. He steps closer, so that you can no longer avoid looking at him. “You are an expert in… me, then?” he teases.

He revels in the surprised bark of laughter that you can’t suppress in response to his joke.

“Lots of people are fascinated with objects from the past,” you explain, still smiling. “We put them in big buildings called museums and people come from all over to see them.”

“I would like to see this,” Marcus decides immediately.

You hesitate. “Moreno doesn’t want you to be out in public any more than strictly necessary,” you tell him carefully. “There’s a lot of tension over how the Rift–the door to your time–was handled. If people knew you came through, he worries it would cause even more chaos.”

He considers this. “It is strictly necessary for me to see the museums,” he decides.

You giggle softly. “Let me ask Pike, see what he thinks. Maybe we can sneak you over there. Ah! Here–” you hand him a book. “You’ll like this one.”

“Aenē̆is,” Marcus reads from the cover. “Thank you,” he says gratefully, choosing not to use the translator.

The two of you read in your living room until the late afternoon, when you’re interrupted by a light tap on the door.

“I should really give you a key at this point,” you joke as you open the door to Agent Pike.

Marcus watches his face with interest, noticing how his lips part and his eyes widen with surprise before he quickly shakes himself and gives a noncommittal response. When you turn away and walk back to the couch, retrieving your book, the man’s eyes follow you the entire way. When he notices he’s being watched, he quickly looks away.

“Marcus!” the Agent greets him brightly, clearly attempting to cover up the fact that he was just caught staring. Marcus isn’t sure why the man is so desperate to hide his obvious attraction to you. Is this a modern custom, or is it simply an idiosyncrasy of this man, in particular?

“Are we expecting Moreno tonight?” you ask.

“I haven’t heard from him,” Pike answers as he sinks down onto the couch next to you.

“You should text him,” you suggest as you elbow the man in the shoulder. “Tell him we’re watching movies now.”

“I could,” he shrugs.

Marcus decides to speak up. “I enjoy the evenings where there are four of us,” he says. “You always order extra food.”

The Agent snorts. “We can do that.”

Marcus smiles. It might have been said as a joke, but the sentiment was genuine. There is a particular kind of energy in the room that he enjoys when the four of them are together. It isn’t just the conversation that he finds so interesting; Moreno and Pike both wear every emotion on their faces–even more so when the wine flows–and Marcus has always been excellent at reading people.

The attraction Moreno has for Pike is obvious. Pike is harder to read, because while his interest in the other man–and in Marcus himself–is clear from his body language, his feelings for you appear to be nothing short of infatuation.

And you… you’re interesting, too. The interactions between you and Pike indicate a history of affection and friendship, but he sees the way your eyes dilate when you look at Moreno… and when you look at him.

And when the four of you are together, Marcus thinks, the tension is delicious.

(You)

The best thing about watching a movie with Marcus Acacius, you decide, is not the movie itself. It’s watching Marcus Acacius watch the movie. You can’t help but watch the man’s face for his reactions to every scene. Your recliner has a lousy view of the TV, so the four of you are crammed onto the couch–because Moreno did show up, after all–sipping glasses of wine and watching Braveheart. You’re seated between Pike and the General, and Moreno is on the other end next to Pike.

Unfortunately, because you keep looking at him, the Roman keeps looking back at you, too, and it worries you that he’s getting the wrong idea. The man is gorgeous, of course, but your heart belongs to someone else, and has for quite some time now. When this is all over, you really need to tell Marcus–your Marcus–how you feel. At the same time, you don’t want this period in your life to end. You’ve never been a person who has many friends at once, and the three men who crashed into your life–and your home–have given you more companionship in the span of a few weeks than you’ve felt in your entire adult life. Each one is a comforting presence in their own way, and when all four of you are together, you’ve never felt more at ease.

Not to mention each man is devastatingly handsome. You’ve been head-over-heels for the FBI Agent ever since he showed up at your office with an unbelievable story about Roman artifacts and a pleading look in his pretty brown eyes. Marcus Acacius, well–his commanding, charismatic presence in your home is impossible to ignore. He’s a terrible flirt, you’ve discovered, not just with you, but seemingly with Pike as well. You think he mostly does it to fluster the man, but there seems to be genuine affection behind his playfulness. And the leader of the Heroics? He hardly needs an explanation. Marcus Moreno was your first celebrity crush. Pushed into the superhero limelight in his early twenties, he was a mainstay in teen magazines during your high school years. Sometimes you can’t believe that the hero is a regular at your apartment, so familiar to him now that he helps himself to the six pack of beer that you keep in your fridge.

A set of unbelievable circumstances brought you together, and now here you are. On the couch. Feeling the fabric of Marcus Pike’s soft henley on one arm, and the bare skin of the Roman’s bicep barely contained by the t-shirt he’s wearing on the other.

You can’t tell if it’s the wine or their proximity that’s making you more lightheaded. Out of the corner of your eye, you see Moreno subtly shift closer to the man beside him.

You don’t know how the rest of them are able to concentrate on the movie.

You watch as a brutal fight scene shows on the screen, and you instinctively look to Acacius to gauge his reaction. He notices, of course, and raises his eyebrows in challenge.

“The fighting seems so real, it is difficult to remember that these men are playing pretend,” he observes. He shifts in his seat, crossing one ankle over his knee and stretching his arm out on the back of the couch, just behind your shoulders, and seeming to accidentally brush the side of Pike’s neck with his fingers.

The Agent’s eyes flick sideways with a small, questioning frown at the touch.

“My apologies,” the Roman says, but before he returns his gaze to the screen, he gives you a subtle wink.

Marcus Pike murmurs something about needing more wine and gets up.

“Bring the bottle,” Acacius says. “Another round for us all, yes?”

The other man obeys, bringing the bottle and filling each glass in turn. When he comes to you, your eyes meet as more burgundy liquid splashes into your glass. You don’t know what’s darker, the wine, or his pupils.

When he sits down, you note, he’s even closer than before.

“What I simply do not understand,” the Roman suddenly says to the man beside you, the deep timbre of his voice felt in your chest, “is how you can be so deeply enamored with this beautiful woman beside you and do nothing.”

“E-Enamored?” Marcus chokes. “I–I’m not–”

“You are not?” the other man teases. “Then you do not mind if I partake?”

“Stop that,” you scold. “You’re just trying to elicit a response and you know it.”

“Ah, I did not specify with whom I was speaking of partaking,” Acacius says darkly. His fingers caress the other man’s neck again, this time with intent.

Marcus sputters wordlessly, his mouth opening and closing, but you can feel the soft tremor that runs through him at the soft touch.

“Hey–” Moreno protests, looking irritated and put-out.

“Shhhhh,” the Roman cuts him off. “You would be more than welcome to join, hero.”

Moreno’s mouth snaps shut.

“But ah,” the man teases, “what rude guests we would be if we stole our hostess’s bed for ourselves, no? I think we should invite her as well.”

“You’re serious,” Moreno remarks skeptically.

“Is it not done in your time?” he asks, feigning innocence. “A group of people simply enjoying themselves?”

“No, it’s–it’s definitely done,” you say shakily. “It’s just that… I mean, we don’t know if we all want–”

“It is a simple matter to ask,” Acacius interrupts. “I will begin with you. Would you care to join all of us in bed?”

He speaks about it so plainly that it makes your skin tingle and your heart starts to race. All three men are looking at you: The Roman with patient expectation, the Heroic with obvious curiosity, and the Agent—his intense gaze burns you from the inside out.

“Yes,” you hear yourself answer. “Yes, I–I would.”

“And you, hero,” the man moves on. “Are you interested in a night spent together?”

Moreno shrugs, as though he can’t think of any reason not to agree. “Yeah,” he says, chuckling softly in disbelief. “Sure, why not?”

Acacius fixes his gaze on the one remaining person to answer. “And you–the man who found me in the darkness. What say you?”

Marcus’s eyes flit rapidly between the three of you, hesitating.

Say yes, you plead in your head. Say yes, Marcus.

You watch as his tongue darts out to wet his bottom lip. He makes you wait for an eternity.

Then, he nods.

#marcus pike #marcus moreno #marcus acacius #the mentalist #we can be heroes #gladiator 2 #pedro pascal

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darkwitchoferie · 6 months

Text

Rosary

As he watched, he noticed that the chain was moving through his fingers like he was praying the rosary. Maybe he was, prayer certainly wouldn’t hurt in this situation. He considered praying himself, but Steve had given up on God the day an otherworldly creature came through the walls of the Byers house.

----

Eddie’s in the hospital after his heroics in the Upside Down. Steve and Wayne sit together, waiting for him to wake up.

Read on AO3 here.

Steve slouched in the uncomfortable hospital chair, glaring at the back of the nurse’s head who was checking Eddie’s vitals. How could the woman check a patient’s vitals when she was practically vibrating out of her own skin with how scared she was? He knew this nurse wasn’t the only one afraid of Eddie, because of his reputation and the cuffs attaching him to the bed, but she was the only one this obvious about it. Why bother sending her in here at all? Steve knew the kids, Robin, and Nancy were working on some sort of alibi or plan to keep Eddie from going to jail when he woke up, but until then, he was keeping an eye on the other man to make sure no one made off with him in the middle of the night.

Nancy’d asked him once, after he explained why he never left the hospital, who exactly he thought was going to kidnap an unconscious man. He wasn’t totally sure – either the cops, maybe the feds, or someone from the defunct government lab that Eleven had been raised in. Nancy had looked skeptical about the first two, after all there were no feds in town and the town cops couldn’t exactly hide a full grown man, but she admitted that the lab was a possibility. So she started making sure she and Robin came in once a day to relieve him so he could go home, shower, change, and eat some real food.

Steve continued to glare at the nurse as she marked Eddie’s chart, then turned on her heel to leave.

“That the nurse I saw leaving?” Wayne asked, pushing open the door with his hip and handing Steve one of the two coffees he carried.

“Mm-hm. Took his vitals.”

“She the one that shakes the whole time?”

“Mm. Like she’s afraid he’s gonna suddenly pop up and rip her heart out of her chest.”

Wayne snorted a laugh. Steve had been pretty damn proud of himself the first time he’d heard that laugh from Wayne. The older man hadn’t handled it well, seeing his nephew torn up and handcuffed to a bed – who would – but after a few days, he’d relaxed around Steve enough that the two of them started having small conversations about nothing consequential. The first snorted laugh had been over some passing comment about the Cardinals during the preseason baseball game they’d had on in the background. Steve had relaxed enough to smile himself. After that, their conversations became more frequent and with more substance to them.

Now, a month later, Steve felt like he’d known Wayne and Eddie his whole life. He learned a bit about the big things in Eddie’s childhood, the things Wayne was willing to share about Allen and Betty, his brother and deceased sister-in-law. Things like what Al Munson had been arrested for after his wife’s accidental suicide. A little about Betty’s drug addiction and how it terrified Wayne when Eddie started dealing. But he also got to hear stories about Wayne teaching Eddie to play guitar in the week after Betty’s funeral, or what it was like for Wayne and then Eddie growing up in a tiny town in Perry county, Kentucky. Introducing Eddie to first Woodie Guthrie and how that had somehow led the boy to heavy metal. How Wayne had left Kentucky after his own wife was killed in a car accident shortly after Betty’s death and how he felt guilty for abandoning Eddie when he knew what kind of a father Al was. And how relieved he was when Eddie joined him in Hawkins after Al’s arrest when he could have ended up with one of Wayne and Al’s sisters.

He heard about other, less heavy, topics too. Like Eddie falling out of a tree when he was eight and breaking his arm; about Eddie’s love for animals and how that translated to not going hunting which was considered incredibly weird for that part of the country, but also how that meant that the raccoons and stray cats of the trailer park gathered around the old Munson trailer because Eddie fed them all; how Eddie had tried to learn to roller skate one time and ended up with a concussion, giving up on any and all sports after that; and about his creative outlets other than DnD, like the fantasy novel he pretended he wasn’t writing but which Wayne had seen the seven different notebooks full of information about.

He figured he learned just as much about Wayne from those conversations as he did about Eddie, but he liked listening to them anyway. He liked that someone wanted to share their life stories with him, even if he was pretty sure that Wayne only talked to remind himself that Eddie was stronger than people gave him credit for. So he shared some of the high school stories he remembered about Eddie, making himself the target so the other kids in Hellfire wouldn’t get picked on as much, or how Dustin, Lucas, and Mike said he went out of his way to help the three of them when he could. Before Lucas had joined basketball at least.

He now, after getting to know him, understood Eddie’s seemingly off-handed comment about his uncle worrying about him. He’d wondered, at the time, if Wayne really would be worried. After all, in his experience, very few adults really worried about their kids. His parents certainly didn’t. He was pretty positive that the Wheelers would only start worrying if they hadn’t seen one of their kids in more than a week. He figured the Sinclairs and Max’s mom were about the same, seeing as they had never noticed anything that was going on with the kids. Claudia Henderson was better, but even then, he figured it’d be an unplanned day or two of not seeing Dustin before she started to worry. None of that applied to Joyce Byers, obviously. She worried about all of them, not just her own kids.

Wayne took his usual seat beside Eddie’s bed and settled into the quiet. Steve watched him out of the corner of his eye, recognizing that this would be a quiet day for Wayne, one where he didn’t have the energy to talk about his nephew, too consumed with worry that he wouldn’t wake up. He noticed that he’d taken Eddie’s necklace off, the one with the red pick that he’d taken to wearing after he came out of surgery, and was fiddling with it. As he watched, he noticed that the chain was moving through his fingers like he was praying the rosary. Maybe he was, prayer certainly wouldn’t hurt in this situation. He considered praying himself, but Steve had given up on God the day an otherworldly creature came through the walls of the Byers house.

He turned his attention more completely to Days of our Lives to give Wayne the illusion of privacy. He knew the older man wouldn’t be there more than a couple of hours, it was long past the ‘family emergency’ time off that the plant had given him and he’d be headed in for his overnight shift. When a commotion arose outside, Steve barely paid attention, too engrossed in the fictional drama on the screen. But then Eddie’s door swung open. He jumped up, only to back away again when he noticed Hopper in front of everyone else.

“Chief! This is –”

“Shitty police work, is what it is, Powell,” Hopper cut him off loudly, too loudly for a hospital, which probably helped explain the doctor and nurses who were behind Powell and Officer Callahan. Steve and Wayne watched as Hopper pulled his keys off his belt, strode to Eddie’s bed, and uncuffed him. “We don’t arrest people with no evidence, you know better. I taught you better. And reputation,” he steam rolled right over the beginning of Officer Powell’s complaint or excuse, “is not evidence. Now, do you have any actual evidence connecting Mr. Munson here to any of the victims? That doesn’t come from a girl’s distraught, and frankly stupid, boyfriend? No, you don’t. Wayne,” Hopper turned to Wayne, voice coming down to a more reasonable volume. “I’m sorry about the trouble here. I know it’s been rough for you.”

“Thanks, Hop,” Wayne shook his hand, more than a bit confused but willing to go along with whatever Hopper said as long as it meant his boy wouldn’t wake up with cuffs on his wrist. Steve wasn’t sure how Wayne and Hopper knew each other, just that the pair of them had apparently become good friends some years ago.

With a glare from Hopper, most of the room cleared out. Powell, who had been Chief last Steve knew, was the last to leave. “You got re-instated?” He asked, as soon as the door closed.

“About an hour ago. Took the time to look over Eddie’s file and the only thing they had on him was that someone said they saw Chrissy leave with him after the basketball game. Obviously they found nothing in the trailer, before it was destroyed, and there’s nothing tying him to Fred or Patrick’s deaths other than Carver’s ‘delusions’,” he explained, putting air quotes around delusions. They all knew Carver had really seen how Patrick died, but the only way the shadowy government types could keep things hidden about the Upside Down was to pretend he’d had some kind of psychotic break. “Probably people will still be suspicious of him, but he’s not going to be arrested. There’s nothing to arrest him for. Except the drugs, so make sure he keeps his nose clean with that. For a while, at least.” The last part was addressed to Wayne only, who grunted his agreement.

“Well, I’m real glad you’re back, Hop.”

“Me too. These idiots forgot how to do their jobs. Not surprised there was a witch hunt for your nephew with these morons manning the station. Anyway, Joyce said she’ll bring you two dinner. She’s making lasagna. El said she’s recovered and is willing to take a look in Eddie’s mind, make sure it is just healing that’s keeping him in a coma for so long, not that something else was done. If you’re okay with that, Wayne.”

Wayne glanced over at Steve, raising an eyebrow as if questioning him on whether he thought it was a good idea or not.

“If Supergirl says she’s up to it, I say go for it.” El had been drained after fighting her brother in Max’s mind. It had taken her almost a week to get any semblance of her powers back and she’d been working since then to get them back to where they should be.

“Alright, Hop. Whenever you’re able to bring her up.” A few hours later, before Wayne went off to work, Joyce brought El when she brought them lasagna. They cleared out of her way, only going into the hallway to let her do her thing. After a fairly short time, she came back out and announced that he was fine, there was no sign of anything from One, so it really was just healing from his injuries that was keeping him unconscious.

Over the next several days, their routine continued. Wayne came straight from work for an hour or two before going back to his buddy’s place, who’d been letting him stay since the destruction of his trailer. Steve still stayed in the room, except when Nancy and Robin came by to more or less force him to head home for a bit. He made polite, but not very interesting, conversation with Eddie’s friends when they came by. They were still, reasonably, wary of ‘King Steve’, so he understood why they didn’t talk to him much. The kids came by after school to share any gossip they’d heard about Eddie, which was much more interesting. Robin brought updates on the repair work that was being done to Family Video and the rest of the town. One/Vecna hadn’t succeeded in fully opening his portals, but it was apparently a near miss, with a lot of places taking a lot of damage. Particularly places in the center of town. They were blaming the damage, and any ‘delusions’ like Jason’s, on a gas main leak and explosion.

Wayne came back a couple hours before work and shared a couple more stories about younger-Eddie. Steve had started to share some stories about himself, but he didn’t really have any interesting things happen in his life before the Upside Down and it’s not like those were fun stories to revisit. Still, Steve told him some of it, just so he had a clearer idea of exactly what kind of mess Eddie’d stumbled into. And maybe because Wayne had shared the painful things about his and Eddie’s pasts.

Doctors and nurses came and went, checking on him to make sure he was healing like he should be. Dr. Roberts assured them that he was healing normally and that the coma was actually helping him to heal faster since his body didn’t need to do much else. They also started him on a form a physical therapy. Obviously he wasn’t moving on his own so it wasn’t normal physical therapy, but since the wounds were more or less healed, a physical therapist came in to do some limb stretches and things with him.

Then, in the middle of the night a little over a week after Hopper’s reinstatement, Eddie started thrashing around on the bed. Steve jumped out of his chair and hurried to the bed, reaching him just as his movements slowed.

“What fresh hell is this?” he croaked, voice scratchy from disuse, eyes narrowed against the light from his bedside table that Steve had been using to read by.

“It’s called a hospital, usually. Suppose it could be hell too.” Steve looked down at him with a smile, relieved to see clear brown eyes looking back up at him.

“Harrington?”

“Morning, Munson. Well, very very early morning.”

“What is happening?”

“You’re in Hawkins Hospital. They had to stitch you up. You lost a lot of blood too, man. Like, they weren’t sure you were gonna make it when we brought you in. Lemme get the nurse or doctor for you, okay?”

“Wait. Dustin?”

“He’s good. Sleeping at home right now. I’ll tell you all about in a few minutes.” Steve ducked out of the room and rushed to the nurse’s station. He probably could’ve used the call button, but figured this was better so they’d know what to expect. “He’s awake,” he told the night charge nurse, Janet.

“Awake?” She jumped up.

“And completely aware.” Janet shouted a few things Steve didn’t understand, something about codes, and she, another nurse, and one of the emergency room doctor’s rushed into Eddie’s room. Steve took that time to reach over Janet’s desk and make a phone call. “Hello sir, this is Steve Harrington. Could I speak with Wayne Munson? Yes, I understand he’s manning a machine right now. No sir, I…. I know bu…. Could you just tell him his nephew’s awake? Yes that’s right. Thank you.” Steve waited for just a minute until Wayne was on the line and he repeated himself. “Eddie’s up. The medical people are in with him now. Okay, I’ll let him know.”

Steve slipped back into Eddie’s room, watching the medical staff fuss over him. Janet turned to him as the others filtered out, gesturing him to come closer. “We’ll have Dr. Roberts check him over in the morning of course, but he’s aware, like you said. Mr. Munson, your cognitive function seems to all be normal, your vitals are as good as always, there’s the stiffness we expected in your reflexes. That’ll just take some time and physical therapy to get back to normal. If you could step back out for a moment, Steve, I’m going to remove his tubes.”

Steve winced in sympathy, knowing exactly what tubes Eddie had in his body. A very short time later, she came back out. “I’ll call his uncle’s work now, let him know.”

“I already did. He should be here soon.”

“Good. I’ll keep an eye out for him.”

Steve turned back into Eddie’s room, to see him sitting propped up on the raised bed and shifting uncomfortably. Rather than address it, since he figured he’d be embarrassed to talk about catheter removal, Steve made his way to the end of the bed and said, “Like I said, Dustin’s doing fine. He’ll be thrilled you’re awake. They all will. Max is also good, broken arm, but it’s healing good. Lucas had some bruises and a broken hand from Carver, who found them and broke into the Creel house. He’s fine, so is Erica. Well, she’s still pissed she can’t, and I quote “give that fucker what he deserves”. One of Carver’s friends tied her to the playground jungle gym while Carver went after her brother. He’s been arrested for assaulting Lucas and Max. Let’s see, Nance and Robin are totally fine. They had some bruising and shit from the vines, but it’s healed up. The Byers and Mike all made it back to town. They apparently had their own things going on and if you want to hear about that, Mike’ll talk your ear off about it, I’m sure. El’s got her powers back, so that’s been interesting. Hopper’s not dead and is police chief again. He’s also the reason you’re not cuffed to the bed any more. Told Powell off for being a bad cop, arresting you with no evidence.

Your stitches were taken out a few weeks ago, same as mine, but they said you had more internal damage than I did, so it’s not surprising you were out. And, uh, I think that’s it. Oh! The town took some pretty heavy damage, they’re still doing a lot of repairs. But, we won. Vecna’s ash, saw it myself. And your uncle knows everything. The kids told him while you were in surgery and I was being stitched up.”

“For how long?”

“Five weeks. Roughly.”

“Five weeks?”

“Mm-hm. We let El double check that you weren’t like, being held hostage in your own head or something.”

Behind Steve, the door was flung open. “Christ Jesus, Eddie! You damn near scared the life outta me.”

“Hey Wayne,” Eddie offered a watery smile, holding his hand out to his uncle. Steve silently excused himself to give the pair of them room when he noticed the tears in Eddie’s eyes.

Silently, Wayne held Eddie as close as he could, both of the silently crying into each others’ shoulders. After a while, when the pain in Wayne’s lower back got to be too much, he leaned back, slowly releasing his nephew. He sat down in his usual spot and just stared at him for a minute, basking in the knowledge that he was awake.

“What’ve I missed?”

“Your aunts have called a couple times.”

“You mean you called them.”

“Well, I had to tell everyone you were in the hospital. ‘Course, I didn’t tell ‘em the details. Your Mamaw’s doin’ what she does. She’ll be thrilled to hear it helped.” Eddie chuckled a little, before coughing. Wayne’s mom, his Mamaw, was a superstitious old woman at the best of times and would probably lose her mind if she knew exactly what had happened to Eddie. She was also known to be a folk healer by their neighbors and had definitely done some sort of healing-from-a-distance for Eddie. He’d decided when he was a kid to never ask her the details about what she did, always a little afraid to find out that she was making him drink something nasty when he was sick. “Steve tell you all the kids, and your friends, have been to visit you pretty much whenever they can?”

“He didn’t get to that part, just updated me on injuries and stuff before you came in.”

“Mm.” Wayne was quiet again, staring at his nephew. “You know you can tell me anything, Ed.”

“I know. Why?” Eddie narrowed his eyes.

“Why didn’t you tell me about your boy? Or, I guess, why didn’t you tell me you’d finally made a move on the boy you been pinin’ after for years?”

“What?! What have you said to him?!” Eddie sat bolt upright and gripped his uncle’s wrist, panic all over his face.

“Calm down,” Wayne reached out to put a hand on his shoulder, gently rubbing his thumb back and forth to try to calm him down. “We’ve been gettin’ to know each other, is all.”

“Wayne, listen to me. We are not together. I have not made any moves. Steve is very, incredibly, straight. Still in love with his ex, even. He’s barely even my friend. And that’s only because of life-endangering circumstances. Oh, I need to lie back down.” Eddie slumped back against his pillows, releasing his hold on Wayne. “That was too much effort. That’s so dumb, all I did was sit up.”

“You’ve been out for over a month, kid. So, you’re not together?”

“Decidedly not.”

“Hm. I figured that’s why he spent every day all day in here with you. ‘Cept when the girls come in for a couple hours so he can go home and eat and stuff.”

“All day?” Eddie asked in disbelief.

“Mm. All day, every single day. He was here before me the first day they let you have visitors. Sits in that chair there and watches soaps all afternoon. Bet he could tell you all about ‘em.”

“God, of course he likes soap operas. Argh!” Eddie pressed his hands over his face, screaming into his palms.

“Well, that was weird. I feel like I’ve missed something,” Steve said, strolling back in with three cups. He passed Wayne’s coffee off to him and held out the third cup to Eddie, keeping ahold of his own. “Doc said you’re not allowed to have caffeine yet, so it’s apple juice. They tried to give you orange, but Wayne said you don’t like that. And they’re gonna bring up some food from the cafeteria soon, see how you tolerate solid food.”

“You talked about me?” Eddie turned an accusing stare on his uncle, not that Steve took much notice of it.

“Yep,” he said, popping the ‘p’ sound. “What were you screaming about when I walked in?”

“Nothing. What do you mean ‘yep’? As if it’s a totally normal thing?” He took a long drink of the apple juice. “God, that’s delicious.”

“Eddie, you were laying here unconscious, after doing something I distinctly remember telling you not to do,” he glared down at him for a second. “Who else were we gonna talk about?”

Eddie didn’t say anything for a minute. “Okay, so, how did I get here? Like, last I remember, I was looking up at Dustin and very much not gon – topside.” he cut himself off, changing what he was going to say when he saw the same upset look on Wayne and Steve’s faces.

“When Nance, Rob, and I got back to the trailer park, you were already unconscious and Dustin was….” Steve trailed off, eyes looking into some middle distance as if remembering exactly what Dustin looked like. “Anyway,” he shook himself out of it. “Nancy tore up some of our clothes and we got those around you as bandages, then I lifted you over my shoulder and hauled you into the trailer. Shit was starting to come apart then, but I was able to push you through the gate to the girls. Then we… borrowed Max’s mom’s car and got you here.”

“You carried me out?” Eddie would deny the blush and the spike in his heart monitor if anyone said anything, but neither of them mentioned it.

“Of course I did. You still had a pulse, Eddie. We were never gonna just leave you there. Even if…. Not gonna happen, we don’t leave people behind.”

“Well, heard the freak’s awake and I guess it’s true.” One of the night orderly’s pushed through the hospital door, pushing a cart with covered food on it in front of him.

“Out!” Steve demanded, jerking the cart away from him then crowding into the man’s space, forcing him back out the door.

This time when Eddie’s heart monitor showed the spike in his heart rate, Wayne turned to him with a knowing grin. Eddie glared and tried to make his heart beat slower.

“You okay, Ed?” Steve turned back toward him, pushing the cart himself. “I know you’re…. Your friends said you’re used to shit like that, but I mean, that doesn’t make it okay. Plus you just woke up.”

“Yeah, I’m good. Just… surprised me, I guess.” Wayne quickly turned his laugh into a fake cough. Steve turned a quizzical look to him, but otherwise said nothing.

“Well, at least we know he didn’t tamper with any of it, it’s all wrapped up.”

“Hospital food, yay.”

“Keep it down and I’ll see if Joyce can bring you some real food in the morning.”

“Joyce?”

“Byers. Will and Jon’s mom.”

“Huh. Dunno why I can never remember that’s her name. She’ll bring me food? Real food?”

“I’ll talk to her in the morning. Like the actual, post-dawn morning.”

“Fair.” With some trepidation, Eddie dug into the hospital-provided lunch meat sandwich, chips, and Jello. Then, a while later, he drifted off to sleep, complaining the whole time that he wasn’t tired and he’d been asleep for long enough.

A few minutes after he was out, Wayne said, “Thanks, Steve. I know I don’t say it ever, but thanks for being around and for looking after my nephew.”

“You never have to thank me for that, Wayne. I…,” he sighed, scrubbing a hand over his face. “I like being useful and taking care of people.”

Steve went back to his borrowed copy of The Return of the King, while Wayne just sort of sat there, watching Eddie sleep and knowing that he was actually just asleep, not in a coma. The two of them eventually drifted off to sleep in their own, less than comfortable hospital chairs for a few hours after that. They were woken up when Dr. Roberts got in for his morning shift and came to see them first thing. Leaving Wayne with the doctor, Steve made his way back to the nurse’s station and asked to borrow the phone from the morning charge nurse, Sarah. He dialed the Byers/Hopper house first, even though it’d probably piss off Dustin if he knew.

“Hello?”

“Hey Jon. Is your mom awake?”

“She is. She’s making waffles. What’s wrong?”

“Nothing at all. Can you ask her if she can bring some of those waffles for Eddie?”

“He’s awake?!”

“He is,” Steve smiled, hearing the cacophony in the background that greeted Jonathon’s question.

“Shut up a minute!” He shouted to the people around him. “Sorry, we had all the boys over last night. I’ll call Nance and Robin, see if we can get in touch with his other friends. We’ll see you soon.”

“Thanks Jon, I appreciate it.”

With a smile on his face and feeling lighter than he had in the past month and a half, Steve strolled back into Eddie’s hospital room in time to hear Roberts say that the physical therapist would be down later in the morning to start Eddie’s full rehab.

“You’re in a good mood,” Eddie commented as Roberts left.

“Joyce is bringing waffles. And children.”

“Excellent,” he grinned.

“They’re also gonna tell your friends.”

Soon, the room was flooded with boisterous teenagers, all trying to catch Eddie up on the minute details and gossip of Hawkins that he’d missed. Steve was pretty sure he didn’t care much about the gossip, but was just glad to have everyone around. Though he could have, Steve didn’t leave the room, choosing instead to find a spot where he was out of the way and could just observe and relax. He ended up leaning against the wall, near the tv.

“Feeling better now that your crush is awake?”

“Sshh!!” Steve shushed Robin who had come over to lean on the wall beside him.

“Of course he is,” Nancy commented quietly from Robin’s other side.

“Will you two shut up?” he whisper-yelled at them. Nancy rolled her eyes, knowing no one could hear them over the children. “I shouldn’t have ever told you guys,” he groaned, dropping his head back against the tile.

“Told us?,” Robin chuckled. “Steve, you didn’t tell us anything. You had a full blown, hysteric crisis. The kind they lock women up in asylums for.”

“They don’t lock women up for hysteria anymore. Besides, you two would’ve been put away long before me.” Since the trip to Pennhurst, Robin had gotten very interested in psychology. She’d devoured the few books available at Hawkins’ library and was trying to learn more. Steve was fairly certain she knew now what she would go to college to study, even though she hadn’t said anything to him yet.

“The point still stands, you can’t be upset that you told us when you really came to us in a hysteric crisis.” Nancy said.

“Yes I can,” Steve insisted, crossing his arms over his chest. Robin laughed again, bumping her shoulder into his. “Besides, it’s not like it matters. You know –”

“Yeah, yeah, we know. Might not be into guys, especially jock guys.”

“On the other hand, he might be into guys who carried him out of hell,” Robin added.

“Fuck off, Rob.” Both girls laughed at him.

A few days later, with physical therapy progressing well and his wounds healed, Dr. Roberts released Eddie. They hadn’t gotten around to repairing the damage to the trailer park yet, and Wayne was still staying on his friend’s couch, who didn’t have room for Eddie too, so Steve did the logical thing and invited him to stay at his otherwise empty house. And if he mentally kicked himself for it, because now he was sure he’d make a fool of himself somehow, well, only he needed to know that.

Which is how he found himself strolling into his own home and hearing Eddie’s voice, with a thicker accent than usual, on what seemed to be the tail end of a phone call. “Yes, Mamaw, I’m healin’ good, thanks to you. Promise I’ll come home to see you, soon as I can. Love you too, Mamaw.”

Steve stepped in the hallway to see Eddie grinning at the phone as he hung up. “Does your accent always get thicker when you talk to your Mamaw?”

“Steve!” Eddie jumped a little. “Hi, didn’t hear you come in. What?”

Steve chuckled. “Your accent was thicker just then, when you were on the phone. Is that a Mamaw specific thing, or does it happen with your aunts and cousins too?”

“How do you…? Wayne.” Eddie’s accent had all but disappeared now.

“Yeah, Wayne. He told me about your family in Kentucky.”

“I’m afraid to ask what else he told you. But, no, it’s not a Mamaw specific thing. It happens with any of my family, even Wayne sometimes. It’s easier to hide with Wayne though, since there are other people with normal accents around.”

“Hide? You mean you do that on purpose, not just that you, I dunno, accidently started to sound like the people around you?”

Eddie snorted. “It’s definitely on purpose. I can handle the barbs about my music, DnD, even my hair. But I hate the looks of ‘oh he’s stupid’ or pity or whatever from the way I sound. It’s the way my Mamaw and my aunties sound. They ain’t stupid, Steve. They’re some of the smartest people I know. So’s Wayne, no matter what anyone says.” Steve listened, a small, fascinated smile on his face as Eddie’s accent got thicker again, the longer he ranted. “What is that look for?”

“Nothing, just, your accent’s back. Got thicker while you ranted. I’m kinda fascinated because that never happened with your table rants at school. I like it,” he shrugged, using the casual gesture to hide that he’d almost slipped and said ‘you’ instead of ‘it’.

“You… like it? Like, my accent?”

“Yeah. I mean, I like listening to you talk in general, but I definitely enjoy the accent. Anyway,” Steve continued on before he could respond to that. “Rob and Nance will be here soon. The brats want to have a movie night, so one of them is gonna stay to help set up, and me and the other one, probably Rob, are gonna head to the grocery store for supplies.”

“Wheeler, do something!” Eddie demanded a short while later, as soon as Steve’s car was down the drive and it was just the two of them.

“About what?”

“About Steve. Either take him back or let him down so he’s distracted.”

“What are you talking about?”

“Listen, I know he’s still got a thing for you. I saw the way he looked at you down there,” he tapped his toes once on the ground. “But I dunno if it’s just because he’s focused on me since I’m living with him for now, or what, but he’s getting weird, Wheeler.”

“Weird how? And stop calling me Wheeler, my name’s Nancy.”

“I was on the phone earlier with family back in Kentucky and Steve said he likes my voice. Likes listening to me and ‘enjoys my accent’.”

“You have an accent? Like your uncle’s?”

“Yes, but that’s not the point.”

“He’s not being weird. And he doesn’t still have a thing for me. We talked about that weeks ago, after Jon got back.”

“Ugh!” Eddie flopped down on the couch she was sitting on, head landing very near her lap. “So, what then?”

“Better question, why’re you making a big deal out of it? Why does it matter to you that he likes the sound of your voice?” Nancy reached out and gently ran her fingers through his curls.

“No reason, just seemed weird is all.”

“Uh huh. Try again.”

Eddie was silent for nearly five minutes. Nancy sat patiently waiting. “Okay, swear you won’t say anything to anyone? Except, you can talk to Wayne because he already knows.”

“I swear.”

“I may, possibly, have had a thing for Steve for… a while.”

“I feel like you could have been more vague with that answer if you tried,” she rolled her eyes, doing her best to hide her joy.

“Yeah, ‘cause it’s not awkward at all to talk about my crush on a guy to that guy’s ex-girlfriend,” Eddie rolled his eyes.

“So it’s a crush, huh?”

“Ugh!” He flopped over onto his stomach, burying his face in the couch.

Nancy chuckled at him, but otherwise said nothing, quietly planning in her head.

---

“Now what’s all this about girls?” Wayne asked, a couple days later when Nancy and Robin met him outside of work when he got off at 5:00 am.

“We need your help with Eddie and Steve,” Robin said, bouncing on the balls of her feet.

“That right?” Nancy was pleased to note the little bit of mischief in his eyes when he asked.

“Mm-hm, and I think you know why.” The three of them sat in the bed of his pickup and made their plans.

---

“Please tell me I’m not the only one who finds this suspicious,” Eddie commented from the passenger seat.

“Why, our friends insisting on meeting us in the middle of nowhere with no explanation? No, not suspicious at all. Although, if they’d gotten Dustin in on it, I’d be more suspicious.”

“That’s fair. He’s obnoxious when he tries to be sneaky.” They both laughed. “Where are we going anyway?”

“The hill just outside town. The kids call it Weathertop, after the place in Lord of the Rings.” Eddie was silent long enough that Steve risked a quick glance over to see him staring in open-mouthed shock. “What?” he laughed.

“You know Lord of the Rings? Since when? I know you didn’t get my Mordor reference before.”

“I had a lot of time while you were in a coma,” Steve shrugged a shoulder. “Dustin let me borrow his copies, even The Hobbit,” he said proudly.

“You read The Hobbit and the whole Lord of the Rings trilogy while I was in a coma?”

“I mean, I only just finished Return of the King like two days ago. But yeah. I dunno, Wayne said it was one of your favorites. And plus, I know the kids like it. So, yeah.”

“No no, don’t add the brats to this. You read it because Wayne said it was one of my favorites?”

Steve sighed, gripping the steering wheel tighter, then relaxed again before answering. “Robin told me that a good way to get to know someone is by learning about their favorite things. Your music is apparently too much for my concussed head, it triggers a migraine. So, I went with books.”

“But you tried it? Listening to my music, I mean.”

“Yeah. I tried… oh hell, who was it? They’re on the front of your vest. Megadeth! Anyway, I was down for like a whole day with a migraine. But Wayne brought in a Woodie Guthrie cassette and that was way easier for me to listen to. I like him.”

“I need…. I need to take a minute and process that you tried to listen to my music, and read one of my favorite book series to try to get to know me while I was unconscious. This is blowing my mind. Seriously though, why would you… I mean, we didn’t even know each other before this whole thing started. Well, started for me anyway. I know you were involved way longer than I was. And I know Wayne was talkin’ to ya about me, so why the extra stuff, I guess is what I’m really wonderin’.” Steve listened with a small smile. Since he’d said something about like Eddie’s accent, he’d started to hear it more frequently. Yeah, Eddie still made an effort to sound ‘normal’, especially when other people were around. But when it was just them, or when he started off on a ramble like that, it got thicker again. “What are you so damn happy about?”

“It’s nothing,” Steve shook his head. “Are you still processing or did you actually want an answer?”

“I dunno. I kinda wanna make up my own thing. But anyway, do you know why they’re bringing us all the way out here?”

“No idea. I know Dustin had his Cerebro set up out here for a while.”

“Cerebro? You’re secretly a huge nerd, aren’t you Harrington?” Eddie chuckled.

“I wouldn’t go that far,” he grinned. “But I know some stuff. Hard to be friends with the kids and not know some of it.” He parked the car at the base of the hill as he spoke. “Alright, let’s see what these weirdos are up to now.”

As he got out of the car, Eddie looked around. “Do you find it as suspicious as I do that there’s no other cars – like Nancy’s or the Byers’ – and there’s no bikes?”

“I didn’t, until you just said something. I kind of assumed we were just here first.”

“Hm, yeah, I guess that’s possible.”

“Should I bring the bat?”

“The bat?” Eddie turned with a raised eyebrow.

“Yeah.” Steve walked around to the back of his car, popped the trunk, and pulled out what at first made Eddie think of a medieval Morningstar, but turned out to be a regular wooden bat with nails hammered through it. “The bat,” Steve repeated, swinging the bat in his hand then bringing it to rest on his shoulder.

“Where… why…? Explain.” Steve laughed a little, but explained the history of the weapon, how Jon had created it way back when all the Upside Down stuff first starting happening to them, but how it had become Steve’s weapon after that first encounter. “I… I kinda wanna see you use that, actually. But yeah, sure, bring it just in case.”

Steve raised an eyebrow at Eddie saying he wanted to see him using it, but otherwise didn’t comment. Together, the pair of them made their way up to the top of the hill, then stopped dead at what greeted them. Steve was the first to understand what exactly was happening, and dropped the bat off his shoulder.

“It’s a date,” he said softly. “They set us up on a date.”

“They did not!”

“They very much did. Well, Nance, Rob, and Wayne did.”

“How… what makes you say that?”

“The blanket is from my downstairs closet, one of the ones that is meant to be used outside, and is the one Robin thinks has the most cushion. So she says. The whole layout, setup, whatever, looks like every time I ever set up a dinner or picnic for Nancy. And I’d bet money Wayne made the food – unless I’m very wrong, that’s a ham and turkey sandwich with mustard and pickles. Which I still maintain is gross, but he says is one of your favorites.” Steve turned to Eddie with a wide grin and held out his hand. “C’mon.”

“But…. But you’re straight.”

“I’m really not though.”

Hidden in the trees not too far away, Robin and Nancy watched as Steve tugged Eddie over to the picnic they’d just finished setting up. Sharing a high five, the two girls turned and headed to Nancy’s car which was parked a short distance away, and drove out to let Wayne know their plan worked.

#steddie #steddie fic

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avelera · 2 years

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Barefoot Divinity - an intriguing art historical detail in The Sandman

I was rewatching The Sandman episode "Calliope" and I noticed an interesting detail: when Calliope is led away from Erasmus Fry's house, she is barefoot.

There's plenty of thematic reasons to do this within the story, as she's an otherworldly being who would not be harmed by going barefoot, and because she is, at this point, a prisoner. One could argue that the reason for this choice is simply because she has not been allowed the dignity of shoes and it is an effective way of controlling peoples' movements to deny them shoes.

But to put on my ancient art history TA hat for a moment here, there's another possible reason for the choice to show Calliope barefoot.

What makes it such an interesting detail in particular is that showing Calliope barefoot is accurate to ancient Greek and Roman art: only the gods are depicted barefoot.

In fact, it's such a consistent rule that it's often a quick way when looking at ancient Greco-Roman sculptures (of certain eras) to know whether or not the figure the statue depicts is meant to be a god or a mortal. If the figure depicted is otherwise fully dressed (ie, it's not a bathing scene or some other deliberately nude subject matter) but they still have no shoes, that means they are a god.

This rule was so strict when it came to portraiture in particular that it took on political significance in the Julio-Claudian era of Ancient Rome. Romans were constantly suspicious of their early emperors like Augustus aspiring to become god-kings in the style of their (barbaric, to Roman minds) eastern counterparts, as Romans considered the allure of being declared divine to be understandable but anathema to their own comfortable fiction that the Emperor was a Princeps, first citizen, and not a king. So when this statue was commissioned by Emperor Augustus's widow, Livia:

It was incredibly politically controversial because she was saying, in essence, that Emperor Augustus was a god.

Now, this particular statue barely squeaked by the censors, so to speak, because the Romans believed everyone had a "genius" or divine spark within them. The claim was that this wasn't a statue of Augustus declaring him a deity but rather a statue depicting his divine spark which could be portrayed as a barefoot god, now that he was dead.

Still, it was a statue viewed with a great deal of suspicion at the time as a result of this splitting of hairs. Next time you go through the Greco-Roman statue portion of a museum that contains full body statues, check out which ones are barefoot! Oftentimes, there is a political message mixed in to that effect. For example, with otherwise naked generals (in a style referred to as "heroic nudity", often used for mythological heroes or athletes) being shown still wearing sandals, to signal they are still modest enough to be depicted as humans, not gods.

The thing is, Calliope is not the only time in The Sandman comics that a godlike being is depicted as barefoot at an otherwise unusual time, specifically in a Greco-Roman context. For example,

After this event in Brief Lives, Dream is shown leaving the temple walking barefoot on the ground. Dream is also named as the Roman god Morpheus, who the Romans would therefore have no issue with being portrayed barefoot.

And much more interestingly, he is throughout the Brief Lives arc frequently and unusually shown barefoot even when wearing modern clothes:

It is this frequent portrayal of Morpheus without shoes on that leads me to believe the choice is deliberate on @neil-gaiman's part, not merely as a depiction of vulnerability but rather as a nod to ancient art history visual language, as is so frequently done throughout The Sandman comics and his other works: modernizing the ancient and bringing the mythological into our world.

#the sandman #sandman meta #calliope

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thewriteadviceforwriters · 10 months

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When I’m trying to create new characters, I often find questionnaires that have questions like “what is your character’s favorite movie?” Or “What is their favorite social media app and why?” However, these questions do not work for creating fantasy characters (like I am). Do you have any ideas for questions to help writers create fantasy characters?

This is a fantastic question, especially for fantasy writers. There aren't many resources dedicated to the creation and development of fantasy characters. I highly recommend exploring Dungeons & Dragons (DND) questions; they can offer valuable insights like this one.

On that note, if you'd be interested in a customized workbook solely focused on fantasy character creation, just give me a heads-up! Meanwhile, I've crafted a concise yet distinctive short questionnaire to get you started. (With unique questions, not the basics.)

Magical Essence 🌟✨:

Source of Power: 🌀💫 What magical abilities or powers does your character possess? How did they acquire or inherit these powers?

Magical Affinity: 🌊🔥 Describe their connection to elemental forces or magical domains. Are they aligned with specific elements or forces of nature?

Otherworldly Origin 🌌🔮:

Realm of Origin: 🏰🌌 Where does your character come from? Describe their homeland or origin realm—its landscapes, cultures, and inhabitants.

Mythical Lineage: 👑🌟 Does your character hail from a line of legendary beings, gods, or creatures of ancient lore? How does this lineage influence their identity?

Legendary Quests and Adventures 🗡️🛡️:

Heroic Exploits: 🏹⚔️ What legendary quests or adventures has your character undertaken? Describe their valorous deeds and encounters with mythical creatures or foes.

Artifacts and Relics: 🏆🔮 Have they encountered or possess legendary artifacts or relics? How do these items influence or aid their journey?

Creatures and Companions 🐉🦄:

Familiar or Animal Companion: 🐾🔍 Does your character have a magical creature companion or a familiar? Describe this bond and its significance.

Encounters with Mythical Beings: 🧜‍♀️👻 Have they interacted with beings like dragons, spirits, or mythical entities? Describe these encounters and their impact.

Destiny and Prophecies 🌟🔮:

Foretold Prophecies: 🔍📜 Is there a prophecy or destiny foretold about your character? How do they perceive and react to this prophecy?

Chosen One or Fate's Hand: 👑🌌 Is your character considered a chosen one or fated to fulfill a significant role in the world's destiny? How do they handle this responsibility?

Interactions with Magic and Society 🤝🔮:

Attitude Towards Magic: 🧙‍♂️🔑 How does your character view magic in their world? Are they a skeptic, a practitioner, or a scholar of magic?

Relationship with Magical Societies: 🏰🌐 Are they part of magical societies, guilds, or orders? How do these affiliations shape their actions and beliefs?

Struggles and Sacrifices 💔🌪️:

Internal Conflict: 🤔💔 What inner struggles or conflicts does your character face? Are there conflicts between their desires, duties, or moral beliefs?

Sacrifices Made: ⚖️💔 Have they made sacrifices or endured hardships in their journey? What are these sacrifices, and how do they impact their character development?

Fate and Free Will 🎭🌌:

Control Over Destiny: 🌟🔗 Do they believe in free will, or do they feel their destiny is preordained? How does this belief affect their actions and decisions?

Choices and Consequences: 🤷‍♀️🔮 How do their choices influence the world around them? Describe instances where their decisions had profound consequences.

I hope these questions help you start thinking about your story and your character. I mentioned things like dragons and magic to give you a place to begin, but you can totally explore other ideas beyond typical fantasy themes. Use these questions to spark new thoughts for your plot and character development, leading you to create a story that's unique and goes beyond the usual fantasy clichés.

#creative writing #thewriteadviceforwriters #writing #writeblr #on writing #writing tips #writers block #how to write #writers and poets

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jcxbliss · 2 months

Text

Song Of The Deep

Pairing - Lee Seokmin (Siren) x Female Reader (Researcher)

Genre - Fantasy, Angst, 18+ Themes

Word Count - 7.7k

Warnings- So far none

Author's Note - Hi guys, so far people have liked this series (even if I have just started lol) I appreciate it. Please Enjoy<3

(ANYONE CAN JOIN THE TAGLIST)

Tags - @hipsdofangirl

Part Two: Heroic

Readers Point Of View

Three days had passed since that unsettling night by the water, and the memory of Seokmin’s sudden appearance still lingers at the edge of your mind. You and your team are now deep into your fieldwork, hiking through Vesuvius National Park which is where the last spotting was found of the Lacewing . The landscape is striking, with its rolling hills and dense forests, but your focus is somewhat fractured by the echoes of recent nights.

As you trudge along the winding path, the sun high above, you can’t help but reflect on the strange dreams that have plagued you. Each night, as soon as your head touches the pillow, you find yourself at the shore again, drawn irresistibly to the water. The dreams are vivid and unsettling, with an intensity that feels almost tangible.

In these dreams, the sea calls to you with its haunting melody, the same one you heard that night. The water’s edge beckons, and you find yourself stepping closer, the cold waves lapping against your skin. There’s always an urgency, a compulsion to dip your fingers into the cool, shifting sands, and every time, you glimpse something just below the surface—sharp eyes watching you, glimmers of an otherworldly presence.

It’s becoming increasingly difficult to distinguish between the dreams and reality. During the day, the distractions of the hike and the camaraderie with the team—Seokmin, Azail, and Lucy—keep you grounded. Seokmin is his usual, approachable self, but there’s a subtle tension in the way he interacts with you, an unspoken awareness that lingers between you. Azail remains quiet and reserved, his eyes often scanning the surroundings with an almost secretive intensity. Lucy, with her relaxed attitude and unwavering dedication, offers a comforting sense of normalcy, though even her steady presence can’t fully dispel your unease.

As you walk, the sounds of nature surround you—birds calling, leaves rustling in the breeze, and the distant murmur of a stream. Yet, your mind keeps drifting back to those nighttime visions. You question what they could mean. Are they merely a reflection of your anxiety and the strange events you’ve encountered, or is there something more profound at play?

Your thoughts are interrupted by Seokmin’s voice, breaking through the fog of your introspection. “Y/N, any sign of the Neuroptera?”

You blink, snapping back to focus. “Not yet. We still have a ways to go before we reach the designated area.”

Seokmin nods and falls back into step beside you. There’s something in his demeanor that suggests he’s also preoccupied with thoughts beyond your immediate task. Perhaps he’s feeling the same disquiet you are, or maybe he’s merely trying to keep his own fears in check. Yet since he found you outside by the sea on the first night he seems to be stuck to your side. Everywhere you had gone he was only a few steps behind you. In a way it was comforting yet annoying, taking every moment to interject himself in your life.

The hike continues, and the landscape gradually shifts from dense forest to more open fields. The scent of wildflowers fills the air, and for a moment, you manage to push aside the unsettling memories of your dreams and the new found fondness that Seokmin has taken to you.

The hike had been long and arduous, but as Azail’s voice rang out through the open field, the group felt a collective surge of renewed energy. “We’ve arrived at the last known location where the Lacewing was spotted!” Azail called out, his tone filled with a mix of relief and anticipation.

The team immediately sprang into action, splitting up into pairs to cover the expansive field more efficiently. Seokmin paired up with you, a decision that, despite the intensity of the work ahead, felt oddly comforting yet still annoying. The field was a patchwork of tall grasses and wildflowers, with occasional patches of dense underbrush. The sunlight filtered through the clouds in soft, dappled beams, casting an almost ethereal glow over the landscape.

As you and Seokmin wandered deeper into the field, you focused intently on the task at hand, scanning the ground for any signs of the elusive Lacewing. The two of you had ventured farther from the main group when Seokmin suddenly called out, “Look over there!” He pointed to a small, partially concealed pond nestled between some bushes. The water’s surface was a mirror-like expanse, disturbed only by the occasional ripple from a breeze. It seemed an unusual spot to find in the middle of a field, and it piqued your curiosity.

With renewed enthusiasm, you approached the pond, carefully navigating the uneven terrain. The edges of the pond were lined with reeds and lily pads, and you noticed that the ground was damp and treacherous. As you edged closer to the water, your foot slipped on a muddy patch. You flailed, arms flapping as you teetered dangerously close to falling in.

In an instant, Seokmin was at your side, his reflexes lightning-fast. He grabbed your arm with a firm grip, pulling you back from the brink. The sudden jolt of his strength and proximity sent a wave of warmth through you. Your heart raced, not just from the near-fall but from the electric contact of his hand on your arm.

“Careful,” Seokmin said, his voice steady and reassuring. There was a flicker of concern in his eyes as he looked at you. “The ground’s a bit unstable here.”

You managed a grateful smile, trying to steady your breathing. “Thanks, Seokmin. I didn’t see that coming.”

He returned your smile, a subtle, almost shy warmth in his gaze. “No problem. Just keep an eye out for the Lacewing, and we should be fine.”

As the two of you began to carefully examine the area around the pond, a comfortable silence settled between you. The close encounter had woven a subtle thread of connection between you and Seokmin, and there was an almost unspoken understanding in the way he now regarded you. The shift was subtle, but noticeable—a gentle shift in the way he interacted, a quiet attentiveness in his gaze.

Both of you begin to look around the pond for the small green bug. This time you are more aware of your surroundings, every now and again you would glance over your shoulder at Seokmin. Occasionally within those stolen glances he would catch you and you would feel a wave of embarrassment rush through you.

Despite the lack of success in finding the Lacewing near the pond, you both carried a sense of satisfaction from the search. As the sun began its descent, casting elongated shadows over the field, you and Seokmin started to make your way back to the main group. Just as you were about to rejoin the others, a distant voice called out, cutting through the evening air.

“Y/N! Seokmin! Over here!” Azail’s voice echoed, filled with a mixture of excitement and triumph.

You quickened your pace, exchanging a look with Seokmin that conveyed both curiosity and a hint of disappointment. When you reached the main group, you saw Azail and Lucy standing beside a small cluster of trees, a large grin spread across Azail’s face.

“We found it!” Azail announced, holding up a small container with a delicate Lacewing fluttering inside.

The sight of the Lacewing brought a collective cheer from the team. Seokmin and you joined in the celebration, though there was a quiet satisfaction in the discovery despite not having found it yourselves. The shared experience by the pond, however, had added a layer of connection that felt meaningful in its own right.

As the group gathered around to examine the Lacewing, the fading light of the day cast a warm glow over everyone. With a clap of your hands you announced that it was probably time to head back down before it would get too dark outside for you guys to walk.

Later that night, the team gathered in the cozy dining room of the bed-and-breakfast, a warm and inviting space with wooden beams and flickering candlelight. The table was set with hearty Italian dishes, a comforting contrast to the day’s fieldwork. Laughter and conversation filled the air, creating a lively atmosphere that was both relaxing and satisfying after the long hours spent searching for the Lacewing.

You sat across from Seokmin, the soft light casting a gentle glow on his features. As you glanced around the table, engaging in light conversation with Lucy and Azail, your attention repeatedly drifted back to Seokmin. The way the flickering candlelight highlighted the smooth curve of his strong jawline, the warmth of his deep brown eyes, and the slightly tousled waves of his dark hair made him appear even more captivating tonight.

His height was impressive, standing just a bit taller than average, with a broad, solid frame that complemented his easygoing demeanor. His face was square but softened by a well-defined, warm smile that made his eyes crinkle at the corners, giving him a friendly and approachable look. The subtle play of light on his features, coupled with the genuine way he laughed and interacted with everyone, seemed to bring out a magnetic charm that you hadn’t noticed as strongly before.

The conversation flowed easily until Lucy, with a mischievous glint in her eye, leaned forward. “Speaking of adventures, Y/N, do you remember our little escapade to the vineyard yesterday?”

You winced, a small flush creeping up your cheeks. “Oh no, not that story.”

Lucy chuckled, clearly enjoying the memory. “Yes, that one! We were having a lovely time tasting different wines, and everything was going perfectly until…well, until someone managed to turn their white shirt into a canvas for red wine.”

The table burst into laughter, and you couldn’t help but join in, even though you felt a bit embarrassed. “Okay, okay, I admit it. I was a bit too enthusiastic about that last pour. But in my defense, it was a really good wine.”

Lucy grinned, clearly relishing the opportunity to recount the tale. “It was, but you were so flustered trying to clean it up. I’ve never seen someone try so hard to salvage a wine-stained shirt. And of course, you ended up with a bright red splotch right in the middle!”

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t suppress a smile. “Yeah, I had to buy a new shirt on the way back. It was definitely one of those ‘well, this is awkward’ moments.”

As the laughter settled, Seokmin, who had been quietly enjoying the story, leaned forward with a grin. “Speaking of memorable experiences, Azail and I had quite the adventure while you guys were doing that.”

Azail raised an eyebrow, clearly intrigued before the memory reanimates itself in his mind. “Oh, here it comes. Tell them about our hot air balloon ride.”

Seokmin chuckled, shaking his head slightly. “It was supposed to be a relaxing experience, but I’ve never been so scared in my life. I ended up clinging to Azail for dear life. Every time the balloon swayed, I thought we were going to fall out.”

Azail laughed, adding with a playful tone, “And let me tell you, Seokmin’s grip was so tight I thought I might need a new set of ribs by the end of it. It was like having a very large, very nervous teddy bear attached to me.”

Seokmin blushed slightly but smiled at the memory. “Yeah, I might have overreacted a bit. But Azail was a real trooper, calming me down and even making jokes about our ‘imminent doom.’”

Azail leaned back with a smirk. “Well, someone had to keep things light. Besides, I figured if we were going to plummet from the sky, we might as well go out laughing.”

The group laughed heartily, and the atmosphere at the table felt even warmer. Seokmin’s usual composed demeanor had softened, revealing a more relaxed and approachable side of him. Azail’s playful commentary had everyone in stitches, and the camaraderie among the team seemed to deepen with each shared story.

As the evening continued, the conversation shifted to other adventures and mishaps, with each story adding to the collective memory of the group. You felt a sense of contentment, enjoying the lively interactions and the growing bond between you and your teammates. The night was filled with laughter and the comforting sense of connection, making it clear that the team had become more than just colleagues—they had become friends.

Seokmin, now fully engaged in the lively conversation, seemed more relaxed than ever. His earlier nervousness about the hot air balloon ride had given way to a genuine sense of ease and enjoyment. He was animatedly recounting a particularly funny moment from one of his past field studies when Lucy, ever the instigator, leaned in with a sly grin.

“I do have an observation that I want to throw out there,” Lucy said, her eyes twinkling with mischief, “has anyone noticed how Seokmin and Y/N seem to be having a great time together lately?”

You felt a sudden jolt of surprise, and a warm flush crept up your cheeks. You glanced at Seokmin, who was momentarily caught off guard but quickly recovered, his usual confident demeanor returning.

Seokmin chuckled, a light blush coloring his cheeks. “I am having a great time with her and you guys as well. After all, we are all here to work on something we are truly passionate about. And something about Y/N excitement to the craft intrigues me.” He shrugs and leans back into the chair he is in before throwing a glance over at you with a smile.

Azail, who had been quietly listening, decided to pipe into the conversation while running a hand through his tight knit curls “Yeah I agree with Seokmin. It isn’t everyday you see someone so passionate about bugs as she is. Sure I like bugs, but she loves them.”

“True, but I think there’s something special about the way you two have been working together. It’s nice to see.” Lucy picks up her glass of wine and takes a sip of it while landing her gray eyes over on you.

Before you could respond, Seokmin cleared his throat and gently redirected the conversation. “Well, we still have a few more weeks here, so who knows what other adventures await us. Let’s make the most of it!”

The group eagerly agreed, and the conversation quickly shifted to plans for the upcoming days. You noticed that Seokmin’s focus seemed to return to the group’s plans, but there was a soft, lingering warmth in his eyes when he glanced your way.

As the night drew to a close and the conversation started to wind down, you felt a quiet contentment.

You and Seokmin exchanged a few more smiles and lighthearted comments as the team prepared to leave the dining room.

“Alright, I think we have a good plan for tomorrow. Our main goal is to find at least one more of the Neuroptera to research in case the one we found isn’t enough. I say we leave around 6:00 am and we should arrive just in time to spend the majority of the day there.” You debrief to the rest of everyone while Lucy hums in agreement, Azail nods his head in affirmation and Seokmin gives a thumbs up.

“Sounds great!” Seokmin says before waving goodbye to the group, excusing himself first for bed while everyone else follows suit.

As you all headed to your respective rooms for the night, the warmth of the shared moments lingered, and you found yourself reflecting on the unexpected but delightful connections that had formed during the trip.

Later that night after showering and towel drying your hair, you find yourself on the small balcony of your room, the cool night breeze rustling through the olive trees below. The balcony offered a stunning view of the moonlit sea, its gentle waves shimmering under the soft light of the moon. The peaceful sound of the water lapping against the shore was a soothing backdrop to the day’s events, and you found solace in the quiet solitude.

As you leaned on the railing, lost in thought, you noticed a figure moving slowly toward the water. It was Seokmin. His tall silhouette was outlined against the darkness, and his purposeful stride caught your attention. The way he walked, seemingly drawn to the water, made you feel a sudden pang of curiosity.

You considered calling out to him, wondering if he needed company or if something was on his mind. But before you could decide, a familiar, eerie hum began to drift through the night air. The sound was faint at first, almost as if it was being carried on the breeze, but it grew gradually more distinct. It was the same haunting melody that had visited your dreams in the past few nights.

The humming was mesmerizing, its rhythm and tone strangely familiar, as if it was calling out to something deep within you. You hesitated, your earlier impulse to approach Seokmin fading as you became entranced by the sound. You watched as Seokmin paused at the edge of the water, the rhythmic hum growing louder and more insistent.

Instead of calling out, you remained silent, drawn by the haunting melody. The sound seemed to weave through the night, curling around your senses and tugging at something just beyond your reach. You noticed that Seokmin stood still for a moment, his posture relaxed yet attentive, as if he, too, was listening to the strange song.

The moonlight glinted off the water, creating a shimmering path that seemed to lead directly to Seokmin. As you continued to observe, you saw him move closer to the water’s edge, his eyes scanning the darkness, his expression one of deep contemplation. The humming grew louder, its haunting notes filling the space between you and the sea.

A shiver ran down your spine as the melody seemed to synchronize with the rhythm of the waves. You felt as though you were on the verge of understanding something profound, yet elusive.

You remained hidden in the shadows of the balcony, your gaze fixed on Seokmin and the water. The night seemed to stretch out endlessly, and the only sound that mattered was the haunting hum that seemed to fill the space around you.

As you watched, Seokmin finally took a step into the water, his movements deliberate and slow. The cool water seemed to embrace him, and he waded deeper, the moonlight casting ripples on his figure. The humming reached a crescendo, and you felt an inexplicable urge to follow, to understand the connection between the melody and Seokmin’s enigmatic behavior.

But you stayed where you were, a silent observer, unable to tear your eyes away from the scene unfolding before you. The strange melody continued to weave its way through the night, and you couldn’t shake the feeling that you were witnessing something both profound and inexplicable.

As the minutes ticked by, you remained on the balcony, wrapped in the mystery of the melody and the silent connection between Seokmin and the sea. The haunting song seemed to hold a secret, and you were left to ponder its meaning as you watched Seokmin’s solitary figure in the moonlit water.

Seokmin’s Point Of View

For the past few nights, Seokmin had immersed himself in research, delving into ancient texts and local folklore regarding sirens and their legends. The more he read, the more he uncovered about the intricate lore surrounding these enigmatic beings. The books spoke of their power, their allure, and the ancient claims they made over those who ventured too close to their domains.

He had discovered tales of sirens who could control the tides with their songs, influence the minds of those who heard their melodies, and even create illusions to protect their secrets. The knowledge he gained was both fascinating and unsettling, revealing a world far beyond the everyday understanding he had previously held.

What he found most intriguing—and troubling—was the realization that his own connection to these ancient beings was deeper than he had ever fully acknowledged. There were moments when he felt a shift within himself, a sense of tapping into a dormant power that he had always sensed but never fully explored. This power was linked to the sirens' realm, and with it came a deeper understanding of his own nature.

Each night by the water, Seokmin felt the transformation more acutely. The sea’s embrace felt different, more intimate, and he sensed that he was accessing a reservoir of ancient knowledge and abilities that had lain dormant within him. His form shifted subtly, his senses sharpened, and his mind accessed ancient wisdom and instincts that had been part of him for as long as he could remember.

Now, standing in the water, he felt the true extent of his connection to the siren lore. His eyes, reflecting the moonlight, revealed a glimmer of the hidden power he possessed. It was as if the very essence of the siren’s world was flowing through him, and he was acutely aware of the power dynamics at play.

The shadowy figure emerged from the depths with a graceful, undulating motion, the water parting around it like a curtain. The presence was commanding, ancient, and Seokmin could sense the weight of the centuries in its voice.

“Seokmin,” the figure called, its voice resonating with a deep, eerie authority that matched the ancient knowledge Seokmin had been studying. “I didn’t expect to see you here.”

Seokmin met the figure's gaze with a calm determination. “I’ve been researching the legends, learning about the ancient claims and powers. I know why you’re here. This isn’t just about territory; it’s about something much deeper.”

The figure’s eyes gleamed with a mix of surprise and disdain. “You think you understand the depth of what’s at stake? This domain has been mine for ages. Your new knowledge doesn’t change that.”

Seokmin’s stance grew more resolute, his voice unwavering. “It’s not just about claiming territory. It’s about ensuring the safety of those who come near. The one we both seek is not simply prey; they are a key to something greater. And I won’t let you jeopardize them.”

The shadowy figure’s form rippled with anger, the water around it churning in response. “You speak of safety and claims, but you’re treading on ancient grounds. The power that connects us to them is more profound than you realize.”

Seokmin’s focus sharpened, his resolve stronger than ever. “I’ve felt the depth of this power. It’s not just about control or claims; it’s about a responsibility we share. I won’t let you endanger them or disrupt the balance.”

The figure’s voice grew more insistent, its ancient cadence echoing through the night. “Then we shall see who truly holds the power to claim what we seek. But beware, Seokmin, for the forces we invoke are not to be trifled with.”

The confrontation deepened, the tension between them thickening as they argued over ancient claims and responsibilities. Seokmin knew that this was not merely a battle of will but a test of his newfound understanding and power.

As the waves continued their rhythmic dance, Seokmin felt the weight of his knowledge and his heritage bearing down on him.

Seokmin's gaze remained locked with the shadowy figure as their argument intensified. Each word exchanged carried the weight of centuries, the dialogue steeped in ancient dialects that seemed to echo from the depths of time. His heightened senses absorbed the nuances of the confrontation, the subtle shifts in tone and the unspoken threats that lurked beneath the surface.

"You may claim ancient knowledge, but that doesn’t make you the master of this realm," the figure hissed, its form swirling in the water with an almost hypnotic rhythm. The words were layered with a menacing undertone, the very essence of power and authority.

Seokmin's heart pounded, but his exterior remained calm. The knowledge he had accumulated over the past few days provided him with a greater understanding of the siren lore and its intricacies. He had always known, on some level, that he was connected to this world, but now he felt the full weight of his heritage. The sea felt alive around him, its whispers and currents speaking to him in a language he was beginning to understand more deeply.

"I’m not here to challenge your dominion," Seokmin replied, his voice steady and clear. "But I am here to ensure that the balance is maintained. This isn’t about possession; it’s about respect for the roles we play."

The figure's eyes narrowed, a mix of curiosity and irritation flaring within them. "Respect? You speak of respect while intruding upon what is mine. The one you guard—do you truly believe you understand the depth of their significance?"

Seokmin's thoughts raced as he recalled the dreams that had haunted him over the past few nights. The recurring melody, the beckoning call of the sea—it all began to weave together into a clearer pattern. The dreams had been more than mere disturbances; they were clues, fragments of a larger truth about his own identity and the role he was meant to play.

"I’ve felt their importance," Seokmin said, his voice gaining a note of conviction. "And I understand that it is not merely about claiming or controlling. It’s about protecting them from the dangers that they don’t yet comprehend. This connection is deeper than either of us fully grasp."

The shadowy figure's form rippled as if in contemplation. The water around them seemed to still, the tension momentarily suspended. "You speak with wisdom beyond your years, Seokmin. Perhaps you are more attuned to these matters than I anticipated. But be warned—our interests are not easily reconciled."

Seokmin's mind was a whirlwind of conflicting thoughts and emotions. He knew that the figure's claims were valid, but he was equally aware of his own growing power and understanding. The realization that his heritage connected him to the siren world in such an intrinsic way gave him a newfound strength, a confidence that he had not fully embraced before.

"I’m here to maintain balance," Seokmin reiterated, his tone firm. "And I will not allow either of us to disrupt it. The one we both seek must be safeguarded from the dangers of this realm."

The figure's form began to recede into the water, its presence fading but its final words lingering in the night. "Very well, Seokmin. We shall see who prevails in this struggle for balance. But remember, the forces we wield are far more complex than you may yet understand."

As the figure vanished beneath the waves, Seokmin felt a surge of relief mixed with lingering unease. The confrontation had been intense, and the stakes were higher than he had anticipated. He knew that the balance he sought to protect was delicate and fraught with danger.

He turned back toward the shore, his thoughts racing. The knowledge he had gained and the power he was beginning to wield were both exhilarating and daunting. There was a deeper understanding that he needed to grasp, and the challenges ahead were more significant than he had imagined.

As he walked back to the bed-and-breakfast, he cast a final glance at the water, where the last remnants of the shadowy figure had disappeared. The sea was calm now, but the night’s events had left an indelible mark on him. The path forward was unclear, but Seokmin was resolute. He would continue to protect the one who was central to this complex and ancient struggle, and he would embrace the full extent of his own connection to the siren world.

Back at the bed-and-breakfast, Seokmin slipped through the dimly lit hallways, his thoughts still occupied by the encounter with the shadowy figure. The weight of his new understanding pressed heavily on him. As he reached his room, he paused, glancing back toward the sea. The calm waves now seemed deceptively serene, hiding the turbulent truths beneath their surface.

He slipped into his room, the familiar surroundings offering little comfort. He sat down at the desk, pulling out his laptop and searching through the archives of the ancient texts and folklore he had been studying over the past few days.

As he pored over the texts, the gentle tapping on his door pulled him from his thoughts, quickly he shut his laptop close before swiveling in his chair to look at his bedroom door. As the door opened he saw the gray hair that could only mean one person, Lucy, her aging face showing a mix of concern and warmth. “Hey, Seokmin. Do you have a moment?”

Seokmin looked up, a hint of surprise in his eyes to have been interrupted at this hour when they had all said goodnight a few hours ago. “Sure, Lucy. What’s up?”

Lucy took a seat across from him, her expression softening as she spoke. “I just wanted to check in. This is your first field expedition, and I know it can be a lot to handle. I’ve noticed you’ve been a bit distant today, and I wanted to make sure you’re doing okay.”

Seokmin forced a reassuring smile before letting out a breath of air that he hadn’t realized he was holding until that moment. “I’m fine, Lucy. It’s just a lot to take in, but I’m managing.”

Lucy nodded, her concern still evident. “I understand. It’s completely normal to feel that way. You’re doing an excellent job, and everyone appreciates your hard work. If you need anything or just want to talk, I’m here.”

Seokmin appreciated her words more than he could express. “Thanks, Lucy. I’ll keep that in mind.”

As Lucy left, Seokmin returned to his research. His thoughts wandered back to the mysterious figure and the argument over Y/N. The more he considered it, the clearer it became that the stakes were higher than he had initially thought. The siren world was fraught with intricate politics and ancient grudges, and his role in this complex web of interactions was only beginning to reveal itself.

Exhausted but unable to sleep, Seokmin eventually lay down on his bed, staring up at the ceiling. The soft rustling of the wind outside and the distant sound of the waves crashing against the shore provided a backdrop to his restless thoughts.

The next morning, the team gathered for breakfast, the atmosphere light and cheerful despite the recent challenges. The day ahead was filled with more fieldwork, and Seokmin was determined to keep his focus on the task at hand.

As the team discussed their plans for the day, Seokmin found himself increasingly aware of Y/N, who was seated at the table, engaging in conversation with Lucy and Azail. The subtle shift in their interactions from the previous night was not lost on him. There was a connection that seemed to be growing between them, and Seokmin couldn’t help but feel a pang of unease mixed with curiosity.

When the group set out for the day’s activities, Seokmin felt a weight of anticipation hanging over him. The morning sun bathed the landscape in a warm glow, but despite the picturesque surroundings, his thoughts remained preoccupied. This was not unnoticed by Lucy who seemed to be increasingly talkative towards him almost as if she was trying to pull him back to the reality of the moment.

As they arrived at the field where they would continue their search for the Lacewing, Seokmin tried to keep his focus on the task at hand. Partnering with Azail for the morning’s work finding it the safer option to pull his mind away from Y/N. The two boys methodically moved through the overgrown grass and wildflowers, checking under rocks and peering into dense foliage.

“Have you noticed anything unusual lately?” Azail asked, glancing at Seokmin as they worked. His tone was casual, but there was a hint of concern in his eyes.

Seokmin shook his head, forcing a smile. “No, nothing out of the ordinary. Just the usual day-to-day stuff. Why?”

Azail hesitated, clearly wanting to say more but choosing his words carefully. “It’s just that you seem a bit... distracted.” Azail was not known to pry on things, and had a reputation to stay to himself which Seokmin was grateful for in the moment.

Seokmin appreciated the offer but kept his response vague. “I’m fine, just a lot on my mind. This project is both intriguing and infuriating when we cant find all the pieces we need in order to study the species properly.”

Azail nodded in agreement before taking a few steps forward to continue his search of a tree in front of the two of them. “I agree with you, I know that one should be enough but it would be nice to find at least two of them in case one of them dies so we can study them a bit more.”

As they continued their search, Seokmin’s thoughts kept drifting back to the events of the previous night. He couldn’t afford to let his personal feelings interfere with his duties, but maintaining his focus was becoming increasingly difficult.

The search for the Lacewing proved challenging. The elusive insect seemed to have vanished from their designated area, and despite their best efforts, the morning yielded no significant discoveries.

The rest of the day passed in a blur of activity and frustration. The search for at least one other Lacewing remained fruitless, and by late afternoon, the team was beginning to feel the strain of their efforts.

As they made their way back to the homebase, the sun dipping below the horizon, creating a beautiful backdrop as the hiked their way back down the mountain. Y/N was leading the pack going on about a different discovery that she had on her last solo expedition while Lucy made offhanded comments about how weird it was that Y/N spent almost her entire life dedicated to the craft. Making a few comments about how she also needs to enjoy her youth because her job will always be there. While Lucy was making these comments, Y/N would steal glances of Seokmin while a blush would rise to her cheeks, Every once in a while she would agree with Lucy just to make the conversation stop for the moment.

That evening, as the team gathered for dinner, the atmosphere was subdued. The exhaustion of the day had settled over everyone, and the conversations were quieter than usual. Seokmin glanced around the table, taking in the familiar faces of his teammates and the warmth of the cozy dining room.

When dinner concluded and the team began to disperse, Seokmin found himself once again drawn to the water but settled to stand on his balcony overlooking the sea. The moonlight cast a serene glow over the water, and the gentle sound of the waves was a soothing backdrop to his thoughts.

He leaned against the railing, his mind replaying the events of the day and the weight of his responsibilities. The calm sea seemed to mock his inner turmoil, its surface reflecting the pale light of the moon.

Seokmin lingered on the balcony for a few more minutes, finding a small measure of peace in the moonlit sea. But the reality of their mission brought him back to the present. With a final glance at the serene horizon, he turned and headed back inside to go get a glass of water.

Making his way out of his room he walked down the long hallway until he was met with the stairs. Slowly he made his way down them humming softly to himself the sound coming out more enchanting then he intended but saw no harm with everyone in their rooms. As he plants his feet on the last steps he halts when he glances towards the light.

The warm glow of the dining room was a stark contrast to the cool night outside. As Seokmin entered, he noticed Y/N seated at one of the tables, her focus entirely on a small container in front of them. Inside, the only Lacewing the group had managed to find that day fluttered gently, its delicate wings catching the light. Y/N was engrossed in jotting down notes in her notebook, the expression that was worn on her face seemed to be a mix of concentration and curiosity.

Seokmin approached quietly, not wanting to disturb her concentration. He stood for a moment, watching as Y/N carefully observed the Lacewing. The intricate patterns on its wings seemed to captivate her, and the way she wrote in the notebook suggested a deep immersion in her work.

Finally, Y/N looked up, sensing Seokmin’s presence. She offered a small, tired smile. “Hey, Seokmin. What are you doing up still?” She questioned pulling off her glasses and setting them down on the table.

Seokmin returned the smile. “ I needed to get a glass of water. I see you’ve been busy. How’s it going with our little friend?”

Y/N’s eyes lit up with a mixture of excitement and exhaustion. “Actually, quite well. I’ve been trying to document everything about this Lacewing—its behavior, the patterns on its wings, and any other peculiarities. It’s not just about finding it; understanding its role might help us with the rest of our search.”

Seokmin nodded, impressed by her dedication. “That sounds like a valuable approach. I’m sure it’ll give us an edge. How are you holding up, though? You have been a bit different lately.” Seokmin was talking out of his ass, but this was his subtle way of asking if she has been experiencing anything weird.

Y/N’s smile faltered slightly. “I’m managing. It’s just been a tough few days. I have been having these weird dreams that seem insane so I don’t even want to get into it right now.” She waves her hand in the air to dismiss the thought, “Just so much in my head right now.” She throws out a soft chuckle into the evening air.

Seokmin’s expression softened. “If you need to talk about it, I’m here. Sometimes sharing helps lighten the load.” Deep down he hoped that she would in that very moment even if it meant he would have to expose who he truly is.

‘Please, please tell me what is going on Y/N, I want to protect you.’ Seokmin wagered in his mind but kept a soft smile while examining her.

Y/N looked grateful but shook her head gently. “Thanks, Seokmin. I’ll keep that in mind. Right now, focusing on this Lacewing helps me stay grounded.”

Seokmin glanced at the Lacewing’s container, admiring its delicate beauty. “It’s incredible how something so small can hold so much significance. I hope our efforts pay off.”

Y/N nodded, her eyes returning to the notebook. “Me too. For now, though, I’ll keep working on this and see if I can find any patterns or clues that might help us.”

Seokmin took a seat across from them, sensing Y/N’s need for companionship but also respecting her focus. “I’ll be here if you need anything. Just let me know.”

They shared a brief, understanding look before returning to their respective tasks. Seokmin watched as Y/N’s pen danced across the notebook, her focus unwavering.

The ambiance of the dining room, now quieter and more relaxed, provided a backdrop to their shared sense of purpose. Seokmin felt a renewed sense of determination. Despite the day’s challenges and the weight of their mission, there was a glimmer of hope in their collective efforts.

As the night wore on, Seokmin remained in the dining room, offering silent support and occasional words of encouragement.. With each passing hour, the room grew quieter, but Y/N’s diligent work and Seokmin’s quiet presence were a testament to their commitment.

Eventually, Y/N finished their notes and closed the notebook with a sigh of satisfaction. She looked up, meeting Seokmin’s gaze with a tired but hopeful smile.

“Thanks for being here,” Y/N expressed in a soft and tired tone.

Seokmin returned the smile. “Of course. We’re in this together, and we’ll get through it.” His words may have seemed surface level but they meant more than she could have ever known.

Both of them stood up together and Y/N let out a yawn and a stretch of her arms over her head which led to small wobble in her steps and she walked forward. Quickly Seokmin stands in front of her to prevent her from falling to the floor which only yielded Y/N tripping slightly into him.

“Woah- you okay there?” Seokmin chuckles softly holding her biceps to steady her but not pushing her away. The distance between them was mere inches, their scents intertwining.

Y/N smelled of fresh-cut herbs—rosemary and basil—added a vibrant, green aroma, reminiscent of a well-tended garden in spring. Complemented by a cool, invigorating hint of mint, evoking the crispness of early morning dew. Underlying it all was a touch of soft musk, providing a warm, almost velvety finish that added depth and subtlety. It was intoxicating to say the least, his eyes stared down at her.

Reader’s Point Of View

Seokmins scent was intoxicating leaving you stuck in a trance, he smelled of a fresh, oceanic scent. There was a crisp, briny tang of sea spray, mingled with the clean, invigorating aroma of seafoam and saltwater. Beneath these were subtle hints of sun-warmed driftwood and a touch of sunlit sand. All it did was leave you wanting more, to be wrapped in his scent for all of eternity.

Staring up at him your lips part slightly forgetting to use your words for a moment. It is almost as if nothing could pull you from this, the same feeling you had the other night by the sea matched how you felt in this moment. He put you in a trance, but unlike the other one you didn’t feel in danger. You felt safe and calm, like even if the world was ending you wouldn’t mind it ending by his hands.

“Woah- you okay there?” You hear a chuckle leave his lips and a smile form. It wasn’t one that carried smugness.

Clearing your throat you nod as you take a step back from him, feeling his hands drop from your arms.

“Ye-Yeah.” You stammered, a flush creeping up your cheeks as you ran a hand through your hair. Your heart raced, partly from the embarrassment of tripping for the second time and partly from the close proximity to Seokmin.

Seokmin’s eyes twinkled with a sense of amusement. “Looks like you’re having a rough time with these pesky obstacles,” he said with a teasing grin as he points to your feet then proceeds to steady you with a gentle hand on your shoulder.

You couldn’t help but let out a nervous laugh. “Yeah, it seems that way. I really need to watch where I’m going.”

“Or maybe the ground is just trying to keep you close,” Seokmin joked, his grin widening. His leans down to be in your eyeline as he whispers. “I’m starting to think it’s got a thing for you.”

You blushed deeper, trying to regain your composure. “Well, if that’s the case, it’s not doing a very good job of it.”

Seokmin chuckled softly. “You know, if I didn’t know any better, I’d say you’re trying to turn every little mishap into an excuse to get my attention.”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” you replied, though your smile betrayed your amusement. “I’d much rather not trip over my own feet.”

Seokmin’s eyes softened as he took a step closer. “Hey, if you ever need a hand—or a steadying arm—I’m here. Just promise me you’ll try to stay upright, okay?”

You nodded, feeling a mix of gratitude and embarrassment. “I’ll do my best. Thanks for rescuing me again.”

“Anytime,” Seokmin said with a wink. “But seriously, if you keep this up, I’m going to start charging for my services.”

You laughed, the tension easing as you both shared a moment of light-heartedness. “I’ll keep that in mind,” you said, your cheeks still tinged with color but your mood lifted. “And I’ll try to avoid any more accidents.”

Everything seemed to be easier with Seokmin. His light-hearted jokes and steady presence had a way of making even the clumsiest moments feel manageable. As you walked alongside him to the stairs, the earlier embarrassment faded into the background, replaced by a growing sense of ease.

Seokmin’s casual banter continued to brighten the mood. “You know, if we keep running into these little mishaps, I might have to start carrying a first aid kit for you,” he said, a playful grin still dawned his face.

You laughed, feeling a comforting warmth in his company. “I think I’d appreciate that. At least then I’d have someone to save me from myself. But am I also going to have to be the one to pay for the first aid kit if I am to be charged of your heroic services?” You questioned him

Seokmin chuckled. “Don’t worry, I’ve got the cost of materials. Besides, I think the universe just wants us to have more bonding moments. Consider it a cosmic intervention, and if that is the case I won’t start my charging until your free tail is up.”

“Right,” you said, shaking your head with a smile. “And here I thought it was just me being clumsy. Instead I making the most out of a free trail I didn’t know I signed up for.”

“Exactly,” Seokmin replied, his tone light but sincere. “Everyone has their moments. What matters is how we handle them. And with me around, you’ve got a pretty reliable safety net. Consider the free trail a gift I don’t give to everyone” He pokes your shoulder.

You appreciated his words more than you let on. “Thanks, Seokmin. I really do feel better having you around my savior.”

Seokmin’s smile softened, and he gave you a reassuring nod. “Anytime. And if you ever need more rescue missions, you know where to find me.”

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