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carewyncromwell · 2 years

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“Good day, everyone. It seems that we, once again, are on the cusp of that most wondrous time of year -- the Feast of Christmas.

“I am called Bartholomew -- or more commonly just ‘Bat’ -- Varney...and this time of year is by far my favorite of the lot. To mark this occasion, my ‘mundane’ has once again given me access to her ‘Askbox,’ so that I may discuss aspects of this wonderful holiday with you, her followers, whether through historical lectures, editorials, or even lively debates. She encourages you to consult the ‘Bat Comments on Christmas!’ tag to see my previous entries to this series, to like and reblog these posts if you find them engaging and interesting, and to send in other holiday-related Asks to me, if you wish to see more. I was born in the mid-18th century and currently occupy what my mundane calls the ‘HPHL’ and ‘Fantastic Beasts’ timelines, but I have also been given access to the Fourth Wall, so that I can discuss aspects of Christmas Yet to Come as well.”

The single best aspect of Christmas is the fascinating way it has changed and will continue to change.

[Bat replaces the spent Blood Pop in his mouth with a new one with a grin that shows off his sparkling white fangs.]

“...Our subject today, appropriately enough, actually regards Christmases Yet to Come, as well as those of the Past and Present. Yes, my friends, it is time we discuss my favorite novel of all time, which arguably changed how Christmas is celebrated more than any other piece of text ever written -- Charles Dickens’s immortal classic, A Christmas Carol.

“Now, for those of you who have grown up with Christmas as a holiday, and even for many who haven’t, it would be silly to go into a full summary of the tale. It’s such a popular and well-adapted story, even back in my own era, that even those who haven’t read Dickens’s novel are familiar with it, simply through cultural osmosis...and from what I understand, over time, it’s only become more widespread. But truly, we’re not going to delve too deeply into the story of miser Ebenezer Scrooge, who initially scoffs at the thought of giving back to his fellow men and treating his employees and associates kindly around Christmas, before he’s haunted by three spirits who teach him the true meaning of the season. Instead, I’d like to talk more about the book’s publication, its themes, and ultimately why it both is a perfect time capsule of the up-and-coming Christmas fads of the mid-1800′s and ultimately came to popularize and set in stone customs we still associate with Christmas today.

“Charles Dickens was a celebrity of his day. Originally the man had no concept of what he wanted to do with his life -- he even once considered a life on stage as an actor -- but writing truly ended up being his calling. First finding success as a journalist, Dickens then became famous across Britain when he wrote The Pickwick Papers and Oliver Twist. Even her Majesty the soon-to-be Queen Victoria was purportedly enamored with them. Unfortunately Dickens’s success ended up being a double-edged sword. John Dickens would frequently use his son’s fame as leverage to borrow money, only for Charles to have to frequently come to his rescue when John couldn’t pay the lenders back. And with his family still growing (three going on four, at that time), Dickens had to keep the money rolling in, in order to pay for his family’s lifestyle. They were part of what was called the ‘middling sort,’ or the ‘middle class,’ as I’ve heard it more frequently called, which had only just started to form about a century prior, as education and land ownership became more widespread in Europe and America. Just a century ago, that ‘middle class’ had been the main force behind the American and French Revolutions and the Enlightenment ideals that argued against the superiority of kings and nobles over the common Man -- now most of their members were trying to find comfort and contentment in their new status as the ‘petit bourgeoisie.’ But there was still activism and fresh ideas to be found in their ranks, if one were to look carefully.

“The wide publication of books via printing presses and that subsequent increased access to education and knowledge fueled a new appreciation for history in 19th century Europe. Not too long ago, as I’ve discussed previously, Christmas had been banned in England, only for that idea to blow up spectacularly in the Puritans’ faces. And well, with England having lost their foothold in the American colonies and having spent even more years and money warring with France under the leadership of Napoleon Bonaparte before finally defeating him soundly at Waterloo, there was a new sense of nostalgia in England for when their country was great and prosperous...namely, the Renaissance, under the rule of Queen Elizabeth I. The arts became more reputable and profitable again after the likes of Oliver Cromwell had tried to shut down theaters en masse; investment in new technologies and sciences were promoted, sparking an Industrial Revolution in England; and holidays of the Tudor era were reinvented for a new generation, including -- you guessed it -- Christmas.

“But Christmas, as celebrated in Tudor England, was a very bawdy, raucous, messy affair. A public outdoor festival punctuated by drinking and debauchery didn’t really suit the ‘proper’ attitudes of the Victorian-era middle class. So, just as we always have with Christmas since the beginning, old traditions were attempted, adapted, and -- in some cases -- flat-out made up. One such tradition I’ve discussed previously that was likely completely fabricated around this time is the act of kissing under mistletoe. Other fads that were ultimately discarded was putting fruitcake under your pillow -- replaced with just eating it at holiday gatherings -- and wearing animal-themed costumes -- which I would argue was just shifted over to our celebration of holidays like Halloween. Even the idea of electing a ‘Lord of Misrule’ -- an aspect of the holiday I always enjoyed as a boy, which was also very popular back in the Elizabethan era -- didn’t last, under the Victorians. But still, these new twists on old traditions -- caroling at people’s doorsteps; hosting parties with friends and family; playing parlor games; exchanging presents; decorating the house with mistletoe, holly, and evergreen trees; eating lots of good food -- would become very fashionable among this new middle class and how they celebrated Christmas. And with the arrival of more Romantic ideals in Europe at the turn of the 19th century, the concept of children being evocative of innocence rather than sin became much more mainstream. This then prompted middle-class parents to want to make the old bawdy Feast of Christmas more family-friendly and to use some of their new wealth to give both themselves and their children some joy during the holiday season.

“Dickens, like many members of the Victorian middle class, loved Christmas and the new fashionable ways it was being celebrated. Considering the man also greatly disdained organized religion, as well, it’s not entirely surprising he enjoyed the secular trappings that encouraged joy and extravagance without making it too focused on the church. But Charles Dickens didn’t just think Christmastime should be a time for the middle class to indulge for themselves. The true inspiration behind his novel A Christmas Carol ultimately ended up being Dickens witnessing the horrific conditions child workers suffered through in the new Victorian factories he saw in England, including the Cornish Tin Mines. He became convinced that something had to be done to combat the poverty and injustice he saw in the streets, and he ultimately thought that a story about Christmas might be a more palatable way to deliver that message to the mass public, including other members of the middle class, than a mere article would. And so Dickens partnered the Victorian fad of indulgence with social activism...which, ironically enough, perfectly adapted another tenant of Christmas back in my day, as well as its progenitor celebration of Saturnalia -- the redistribution of wealth. Whether Dickens realized it at the time or not, he had adapted the core of Christmas for a new generation -- this time, not by the poor having to beg or threaten the rich at their doors for their best food and drink, but by the new middle class and the wealthy being compelled by civic duty to give back to the needy willingly.

“A Christmas Carol was an instant success. Thousands of copies were sold all over England from the moment it first hit shelves on December 19th, 1843, with the entire first run being sold out by Christmas Eve of that year and twelve more editions being published by the end of the following year. It is by far Dickens’s most well-known, read, and beloved novel, and it has only become more popular over time. And yet, in his day, Dickens didn’t enjoy the profits he probably should’ve from A Christmas Carol, after all his efforts. Part of this is because of how much money he invested into the publication of his manuscript. Dickens envisioned his book as something that should be bought and given as a Christmas present, and so spared no expense in making each book a work of art. The books were bound in red cloth, printed on gilt-edged pages, with hand-painted illustrations. All of this took a big chunk out of Dickens’s profits. Another problem, however, was that this expensive binding was the only way the book was published, which made it so that many poorer people who wanted to read this new book written by the great Charles Dickens about the virtue of giving to the poor didn’t have the five shillings needed to buy it. And this is why a lesser publisher ultimately plagiarized the novel, condensing it somewhat and printing it much more cheaply without permission, so as to cash in on those who couldn’t afford the full, official manuscript. Dickens later took that publisher to court for copyright infringement and won, but the whole affair still hurt his profit margin.

“Even so, A Christmas Carol’s legacy is undeniable, and many of the Christmas traditions we love most today -- mere passing fads of Dickens’s era -- were popularized because of this very well-received and circulated little book. Christmas cards and gifts. Games and toys. Caroling. Childhood innocence. Christmas trees. Eating turkey, pies, and warm chestnuts for Christmas dinner. Giving to the poor. Even just the concept of the ‘holiday spirit,’ of ‘good will toward men’ -- of hope and charity, in the midst of the cold and hunger of winter. The ritual of taking time off work specifically just to celebrate at home with your loved ones, rather than go to church or go out drinking in the streets. All of this is what Christmas is all about in the minds and hearts of so many...but it wasn’t, until Charles Dickens wrapped all of these ideas up in a neat little package and gave it to the world, in the form of a manuscript he had to finish in less than six weeks and yet clearly put so much heart and soul into.”

[Bat removes the spent pop from his mouth. He reaches into the inside of his waistcoat, taking a sip of blood from his pewter flask. Then, clearing his throat, he puts the flask down and then reaches into the other side of his waistcoat, out of which he fetches out a very small, leather-bound copy of A Christmas Carol -- a present from someone, no doubt.]

“...And so...to close this out...let me quote one of my personal favorite sections of the novel. It’s a part of the story far less quoted than the infamous ending, but it’s a passage I’ve always found so striking, and one I think similarly embodies the beauty of Dickens’s work...”

[Bat opens his tiny copy of the manuscript and reads:]

“‘A small matter,’ said the Ghost, ‘to make these silly folks so full of gratitude.’

“‘Small!’ echoed Scrooge.

“The Spirit signed to him to listen to the two apprentices, who were pouring out their hearts in praise of Fezziwig: and when he had done so, said,

“‘Why! Is it not? He has spent but a few pounds of your mortal money: three or four perhaps. Is that so much that he deserves this praise?’

“‘It isn’t that,’ said Scrooge, heated by the remark, and speaking unconsciously like his former, not his latter, self. ‘It isn’t that, Spirit. He has the power to render us happy or unhappy; to make our service light or burdensome; a pleasure or a toil. Say that his power lies in words and looks; in things so slight and insignificant that it is impossible to add and count ‘em up: what then? The happiness he gives, is quite as great as if it cost a fortune.’”

[Bat looks up from his book with another fanged grin as he takes another sip of blood from his flask.]

“...Happy Christmas to you all.”

((OOC: HAPPY BATMAS!! 🎄🥰 Yes, friends, for all this month and next, Bat had free reign over the Askbox to chat Christmas with you all! Please consider sending in Asks, or of course, just liking/reblogging my entries to this series! It’s truly so much fun to work on, and I’m so thrilled to do some more fun installments to it this year!))

#bat comments on christmas!#bartholomew varney #roleplaying #christmas #a christmas carol #hphl #hogwarts legacy #history #harry potter

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pyroclastic727 · 4 years

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Is Amity autistic?

In the Owl House fandom, we hear a lot about how Luz is written to be ADHD. Now I would like to present the flipside: Amity is coded as autistic.

Here’s the breakdown.

Amity is touch-averse. “BuT aMiTy ToUcHeS LuZ aLL tHe TiMe” nice try. The key to autistic touch-aversion is only being okay with touch when she initiates it. And that totally matches up with Amity. See, Amity is really happy when she initiates touch with Luz. She’s also cool with it when Luz holds her hand after standing near her for enough time that Amity can predict an incoming touch. That’s because Amity consents to that touch and expects it.

But when other people touch her? She doesn’t take kindly to that. When Luz initially bumped into her at Covention, she snapped at her and degraded her. Even when she bumped into Luz in Enchanting Grom Fright, her initial instinct was to snap at Luz, since she didn’t expect to be touched. When Hooty touched Amity’s face without consent, she flipped out and beat him up. Not even Lilith beat Hooty up when he wrapped her up in his mucus-filled tube, but Amity gave Hooty the injuries we all wanted to see him with, because he breached her boundaries without her consent. Even as late as the last episode, Amity fell over when her face got close to Luz’s on the bleachers, because she didn’t expect it.

Amity stims. Okay, this one took me a while to catch, since most of the time, Amity is very controlled with her actions. This symptom isn’t very intense; her senses aren’t understimulated too often, and she really only does it when she’s really excited.

Mainly, when Luz offered to carry her. While she adorably scrambled for words, she also flapped her hands against her legs. At first I thought it was just a cute thing she did, but there’s more to it. She was so excited to be held by Luz that it showed up in her hands flapping...a common stim. With Amity feeling more comfortable around her new friends than the old ones, I wouldn’t be surprised to see more stimming in the future.

Amity always has The Mask as her expression. You know, the one with her eyes half-lidded, eyebrows raised, mouth slightly downturned. I also call it the Resting Blight Face, for...reasons.

At first I thought it was just a way to hide her true emotions, since her parents are assholes. But even though Luz makes her feel accepted, she keeps doing it. It’s more like...you know that feeling when you’re thinking really hard, or uncomfortable, or ashamed, or even just relaxed, and you can’t think of which expression to wear quickly enough, so you put on an unreadable one to tide people over? Apparently most people don’t do that, since allistic people tend to have expressions for those feelings, ones that arise naturally.

Another symptom of autism is having hard-to-read expressions, or being less expressive. In Amity’s case, it’s the fact that she doesn’t see a need to have an expression in calmer moments, so she just uses her usual expression.

Amity hyperfixates. This has several facets, so I’ll break this down.

She initially hyperfixated on school. And that’s how she became top student. Amity Blight is who you would mistake for a “gifted student.” But make no mistake...she is not gifted, and gifted is a bullshit label used to overexert people and force them to keep school as their special interest for their entire lives (and I may have a bit of a vendetta against it). Anyways, we already know she’s a perfectionist. My theory is that Amity originally was hyperfocused on school--the Abominations track, to be exact--and that’s part of how she got so good. Then, her focus shifted, but the school expected her to keep being top student. Cue the perfectionism; she was no longer able to focus on school like she wanted to, but everyone expected her to, so she got insecure about it.

She hyperfixates on Azura, just like Luz did. Yeah, she keeps it secret from the world, for most of the time. But she definitely likes Azura a lot. I mean, she started to reconsider her opinion on Luz when Luz offered her an Azura book. She destroyed her jock career because she tried to use an Azura move in real-life Grudgby. Her interest in Azura is long-lived, starting about the time that her interest in school would have expired (which would explain why she stayed closeted). And we can’t ignore the fact that she sees Azura in Luz and is definitely enjoying the parallels between herself and her fictional counterpart. (Which might not be a coincidence, but that’s an entirely different theory).

She hyperfixates on Luz. Yes, part of this is a crush. But a lot of us have watched Amity’s personality go from alpha bitch to cutest little bean in the Boiling Isles, all thanks to Luz’s influence. Lumity is not a rivals-to-lovers speedrun due to bad writing, it’s due to Amity hyperfixating. She’s already extremely introspective, going so far as to keep a diary where she analyzes and makes sense of herself. It’s not a stretch to say that she identified the faults that kept her from Luz and worked hard to change those off-screen.

Amity keeps a journal. To me, this seems like masking. You see, Amity is what people would consider to be high-functioning, since she can pass for allistic. But in order to do this, she has to put in significant effort on her part. See, when she does something that makes it so she doesn’t pass, she just sees it as a problem (since she probably doesn’t know about autism, and she passes well enough that she would totally be undiagnosed). Then she tries to fix the problem, in order to keep being perfect.

Amity has awkward body language. Thanks to the journal and other ways of masking, you don’t see this early on. But once she feels comfortable enough around Luz to let her guard down...she completely forgets boundaries. To review: in episodes 15-17, she throws herself at Luz, holds her formal rival’s hand for 24.71 seconds, blushes every time she sees Luz, and loudly declares her thirsty thoughts about Luz in uniform before literally running away. While some of this can be seen as normal gal pal things or crush things...you’d think a repressed wlw like Amity would try very hard not to touch Luz, so as to avoid being outed. Or at least she would do less of that stuff, so as to respect Luz’s boundaries the way she wants her boundaries to be respected. But that’s not the case, since she straight-up misses a lot of social cues. And since she feels comfortable around Luz, she doesn’t feel the pressure to be so paranoid about the cues, and can be her awkward self. From her point of view, she probably sees it as being freed from her parents’ judgment.

Amity takes things literally, sometimes. Now, this doesn’t happen all the time, since she isn’t heavily affected by this autistic trait. But when Luz says “I’m picking up what you’re putting down” and Amity says “I’m not putting down anything” and looks down...she not only missed the conclusion Luz drew from her words, but also assumed a literal meaning from her words. I can’t come up with many other instances of this, mostly because this doesn’t happen often. I would assume that Amity missed these a lot early on, and learned how to mask/identify them.

Amity is easily upset when things don’t go as planned. Let’s review these. In the library, she gets really mad at Luz when they end up stitched to a book, and it takes Luz’s sweet personality to get Amity to loosen up and laugh over it. When she goes to practice magic, and Luz steals her wand and uses it to get her siblings kidnapped, Amity locks Luz in a cage and assumes that she will get badly injured if she tries to fix the problems she caused. When Luz comes to her school, she panics and focus on how that doesn’t change anything. When she burns Willow’s mind, she appears absolutely terrified of being punished, flinching and bracing for impact when Luz finds her near the memories, constantly trying to distract Luz as they work together to save Willow, and hiding behind Luz when she confronts the Inner Willow. When Luz asks her to join her in Grudgby, Amity doesn’t initially agree, instead taking much more of the episode to come to terms with her involvement in it.

Amity likes predictability. She’s not attached to routines, but she does like being able to expect things. If she makes a plan for the day, she expects that day to adhere to that plan, and she doesn’t respond well when it changes. When Luz comes to her school, she focus on how that doesn’t change anything...not how that would ruin things or complicate things. Whenever she gets involved in Luz’s shenanigans, she either gets angry, scared, or takes a while to accept it. In a broader sense, she takes a while to accept that Luz and her shenanigans are a permanent fixture in her life--sixteen episodes, to be exact.

Finally, it would make for some excellent representation. An ADHD Dominican-American bisexual protagonist is pretty groundbreaking. But an ADHD Dominican-American bisexual protagonist girl who dates an autistic wlw witch girl from another dimension is exactly the kind of intersectional representation you’d expect to see from an unrestricted Owl House crew.

...Now, this might just be me hardcore projecting. I’m a little scared to post this because I don’t know how much of this is me reading into imaginary things, or trying to convince myself that Amity is like me. Feel free to debate/disprove me or support me in the comments.

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neo-culture-mafia · 3 years

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[02:03PM] “Where is he, Mark? They should’ve arrived yesterday.” You questioned for the millionth time that day— pacing around the room as you looked at the window every two seconds.

“I thought you didn’t care about what happened to your arranged husband.” Hyuck muttered, receiving a not-so-nice glance from Mark.

“You’re not helping, Hyuck.” Mark scolded him before walking to you and gently placing both of his hands on your shoulders. “Unforeseen things happen during missions all the time, Y/N. I’m sure they’re on their way.” He stated with a gentle smile on his lips.

“Aren’t they supposed to tell you guys when something happens?” You asked, feeling the cold sweat take over your hands. Your nervousness was starting to show.

“Only when they’re fucked up.” Hyuck added, automatically shrinking his shoulders when Mark turned to him to mouth “I’m gonna kill you” with no sound.

“What he’s trying to say...” Mark turned his attention back to you with the sweetest smile he could put on his face. “is that they only call when they need help, so the fact they haven’t called it’s a good sign. Very good sign.” He assured you.

“Okay.” You finally let a deep breath out of your mouth, trying to let Mark's words sink in and help with your worrying.

“You should go to bed, though. We’re gonna linger around a bit more so we'll tell Renjun that you were worried about him when he arrives.”

“I’m not worried about him.” Your facial expression automatically changed and you adjusted your posture, getting out of Mark's grasp. “I’m just concerned about the others, there are people from my family there too, that’s all.”

“Uhum. I’ll let you fool yourself this time.” Hyuck gave you a sarcastic smile before walking to you with a bit less attitude. He knew better than to keep doing that to you, you had a scary husband. “But seriously, go get some sleep. I'll let you know when he arrives. You barely slept last night.”

Judging by the way Mark and Hyuck were staring at you, you knew that trying to say anything different would be a lost battle.

“Pinky promise?” You asked after sighing at how powerless you were in front of two of your closest friends. “I whole hand promise you.” Donghyuck held up his hand for you to hit, getting a weak smile as an answer from you. “He’s one of the best, Y/N. If there’s anyone in this world that you shouldn’t worry about, it’s him.” He reassured you before kindly scouting you out of the room.

{...}

When Renjun finally arrived at his house, his mind was too tired for him to remember that he was supposed to tell you he had arrived. His feet unconsciously moved towards the bathroom as he quietly repeated to himself that he just needed to take all that blood off of him and that he would feel better. A fallacy to say the least, but Renjun had never felt like himself whenever he had blood stains on him, it just bugged his mind as a constant reminder that one more life had been taken by his gun. Not the happiest thought to have before going to bed.

As he stepped out of the bathroom, finally feeling like himself again, Renjun paced towards your room on the other side of the hallway, ready to knock on your door to tell you he'd arrived and to hear you telling him to fuck off and let you sleep as the usual response. Instead, what he received was much different than expected.

When he was about to knock on your door, he noticed that the door was already open. Your room was empty.

“Y/N?” Renjun called for you. The silence was the only answer. “Shit.” He mumbled to himself, quickly running to your nightstand drawer where he had previously convinced you to leave a gun. It was also empty.

The fear started to grow inside of his chest as Renjun silently walked out of your room. Since you had firmly and kindly stated — or threatened to cut his balls off — that Renjun was banned from ever entering your room without your permission, he still hadn’t had the chance to put any alarms inside your bedroom. The only alarm capable of adverting the rest of Neo Culture in case of trouble was in his room.

Although Renjun had arrived around a few minutes ago, the hall's light was still turned off. He didn’t like to see the bloodstains on him, so he usually would only turn on the lights after making sure he wouldn’t see any reminder of violence on his body.

The fact that his room's light on had passed unnoticed by Renjun, something unusual to happen, only made the fear start to take over his body. Fear was a foreign feeling for Renjun, but when the thought that something might have happened to you occurred to him, he knew this was a rare exception. Someone was inside his house, and you were nowhere to be found. The equation was easy for him.

As much as your marriage wasn’t ideal, Renjun never pushed you away. He understood that you had a temper and that being rude was your way to cope with how fast things had “happened” between the two of you, and even though he didn’t enjoy being treated like shit, he was more than certain that no one had the permission to lay a finger on you. Arranged or not, Renjun took the marriage vows seriously, and someone hurting you was out of the question.

In a second of anger, Renjun ignored all the expert assassin instincts that were screaming for him to check the cameras before attacking- him throwing away the idea to know how many he was going to be dealing with. He ran straight to his room’s door and kicked it open to see a very confused you raising your head from his pillow.

Renjun's eyes were quick to scan your face. You had bags underneath your eyes, very red and swollen eyes, that tipped off that you most likely had cried yourself to sleep. When Mark and Donghyuck mentioned that you were worried about him, Renjun thought that they were just messing around. Now he could see they weren’t lying.

If the situation was different, you would have probably told him to get lost. But as your tired eyes landed on Renjun's figure, relief was the only thing radiating off of you.

You probably looked terrible. You could feel that your hair, your face, your clothes, and even your self-esteem were messed up, but your eyes were still locked on his anyway.

As your brain tried to come up with an explanation, you started to wonder: How could you explain your current situation without completely humiliating yourself in front of the man you thought you despised till yesterday?

“W-what,” your voice failed, causing you to mentally curse at your own stupid voice for not helping. “What’s with the gun?” You managed to say a few words as you quickly sat down on his bed.

“What’s with the crying?” He questioned back, not breaking eye contact with you as he placed the gun on his waistband.

“Uh- Nothing. I just missed my home.” You murmured, cleaning some tears off of your face with your hoodie's sleeve in an awkward manner as your vision tried to adjust to the combination of the room's light + puffy post-cry eyes.

“Oh.” Renjun's stare softened. His heart was still trying to calm down after so many bad scenarios flashed through his mind, so he didn’t even think about whether he would be invading your personal space or not when he sat down next to you. “I’ll ask Chenle to take you to see your parents tomorrow.”

As Renjun's body touched the mattress, your body automatically retracted and you were back on your feet, receiving a confused stare from the previously mentioned.

“I-I didn’t mean it in that way.” The words stumbled out of your mouth as your eyes tried to focus on anything but his face.

Surprisingly, your eyes were met with something you hadn’t seen before. You were so lost in your negative thoughts and crying when you walked into his room that you didn’t notice the small picture frame he kept by the side of his bed. It was your marriage day. You and he were in the picture.

“Huh?” He stared at you in genuine confusion.

No matter how many times you tried to push him away by telling him off or saying that he didn’t have any obligation towards you, he always took your marriage very seriously. He always prioritized whatever you needed, and he would always go beyond his limits just to make sure you had everything you needed.

Renjun never mistreated you. Not even for a second.

“When I married you, this place became my house. Even though I strongly opposed to the wedding, I accepted this as my house.”

“But?” Renjun instinctively asked as his mind was trying to conceive what was going on.

You debated for a few seconds whether or not to say the next words. Yet when you stared at his messed bed sheets that you were lying on instants ago, even if you wanted to, there wasn't any way to embarrass yourself more in front of him than you already had.

“This house isn’t my home without you in it.” You admitted, feeling a heavy burden get off of your shoulders as you let the very last piece of your dignity in Renjun's room before walking yourself out of it without turning back.

#nct mafia au #nct mafia #nct dream #nct renjun #renjun timestamps #huang renjun #kpop mafia au #renjun blurbs #renjun drabbles #nct huang renjun #nct #nct u mafia #kpop blurbs #kpop timestamps #admin 💫

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muffinbeliever · 3 years

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When the Stars Align [07]

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Soulmate!Reader

Word Count: 4717

Warnings: language, sexual content, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it!), ANGST, but also cute date fluff, Lisa Braeden (yes this is a warning), crying, body insecurity

Summary: Soulmate!AU– Everyone has the first words their soulmate says to them tattooed on their wrists. You and your cat are living a normal life in Fort Collins, Colorado when three men come bursting through your door, completely changing your life. Reader-insert story. Starts around S06E08, but Sam has his soul, and it doesn’t really follow the series from there

A/N: HELLO !!!! i apologize for the delay my classes have been swamping me with work and i already had writers block but i finished this chapter like five minutes ago and i'm desperate to post it and see what you guys think ! please be sure to leave comments and likes as always <3

Masterlist | When the Stars Align Masterlist

Sunlight illuminated Dean’s face that you admired as you drove along the open road. The windows were down, a light breeze flowing through the car. Occasionally, Dean would catch you staring at him, but you didn’t mind and neither did he.

You giggled when you noticed a familiar neon sign and the red leather booths that peaked through the window, having been here only a couple of hours before.

“What?” Dean looked over at you, nervous as he didn’t know why you laughed. You shook your head, before replying.

“I just really like this place,” you said, refraining from telling him about your earlier excursion with Thomas, not wanting it to ruin the moment. He gave you a soft smile.

“I remember,” he said, his eyes shining with fondness, “You mentioned that you come here a lot when you were showing me around.” Your heart soared at the fact that he remembered the small detail.

He parked the car, before quickly getting out of the car, jogging over to your side to open the door before you could even register what had happened. He extended his arm and you giggled at his silliness before getting out of the car. He closed the door behind you, his hand coming to rest on the small of your back, gently leading you towards the diner.

There weren’t many people and you were grateful, hoping to have a quiet dinner with your soulmate and get to know him a bit better. He grabbed a booth snuggled against a corner of the room, gesturing you to sit down. You took one side of the table and he took the other side.

Two menus were placed on the table, and the dark-haired waitress flashed Dean a smile. She looked a couple of years older than you and her black jeans and tight shirt hugged her curves, her tied apron accentuating her slim waist. Her hair fell in gentle waves, framing her face in a way that yours never did.

“My name is Carmen, I’ll be serving you tonight,” she said directly to Dean. You shifted uncomfortably in your seat, and you caught Dean glance at you.

“Can I start you off with anything to drink?” She asked, and Dean nodded.

“Yeah, I’ll have a Coke, please. Sweetheart, what about you?” He asked you kindly.

“A water, please,” you said to Carmen. Her eyes roamed your face and clothes, and she gave you a smirk.

“I’ll be right back with your drinks,” she said, winking at Dean before walking away, her hips swaying with each step. There was a familiar sinking feeling in your chest that reeked of self-doubt.

Who did you think you are? Bagging a guy like Dean Winchester? Obviously, you weren’t terrible to look at, but you sure as hell weren’t a head-turner. Guys didn’t double take when you passed by nor did they try to pursue you. The only exception was Thomas, and you were sure that it was more of a friendly attraction than romantic.

You picked up a menu, not even sparing Dean a glance, trying to focus on what you were going to eat. Despite having eaten here many times, you were surprised at the selection they offered. Most times, you got a salad, sometimes switching it up with a burger, but the prospect of a pastrami sandwich sounded especially inviting tonight. You were debating ordering the pastrami, but decided that it probably wouldn’t look very attractive to eat. Besides, you were already self-conscious about your body, might as well try to eat healthily. Out of the corner or your eye, you saw Carmen approach your table, placing down the two drinks and straws.

“Have you decided what to get, sugar?” Carmen said, flashing a smile at Dean, not that he noticed. He was still looking at the menu, preoccupied with the dozens of choices to choose from.

“Yeah, uh… I’ll get the double bacon cheeseburger with fries on the side,” he said, before looking up and handing her his menu.

“And you?” She asked in a bored tone.

“I’ll get the chicken salad please, dressing on the side,” you said and she wrote it down before leaving. Dean gave you a look.

“Salad? I thought you liked burgers,” he observed, and you felt your heart sink. You didn’t want to be a salad girl, but here you were. You chastised yourself, this is Dean. He doesn’t care if you eat a pastrami sandwich.

“You’re right, I’ll be right back,” you said with newfound courage before getting up from the booth and walking over to the counter. You were able to call out to Carmen.

“Actually, can I have the pastrami sandwich with a side of fries instead of the salad?” She scoffed.

“Figures,” she muttered, “You don’t look like the salad type.”

Her bitchy tone cut through your heart like a knife. You were taken aback, unable to think for a second. You tried formulating a response, but she was already gone. You looked over at Dean who was typing away on his phone, probably texting Sam. You were defeated once again by a beautiful woman.

You made your way to the table, sitting down, lost in your thoughts. Dean’s phone was put away and you were staring at the table. Thinking for a second, you got up, and a look of confusion flashed in Dean’s eyes, but it was gone when you slid into the booth right next to him.

“Hey there, sweetheart. Get a little lonely over there?” He joked and you rolled your eyes before snuggling closer to him, breathing in the familiar scent of his cologne.

“Just missed you was all,” you mumbled into his shoulder and he kissed the top of your head.

“I missed you too, sweetheart,” he said, “but I can tell something is wrong.” He gave you a knowing look.

“Carmen is pretty,” you admitted, hating that you were being petty.

“You’re cute when you’re jealous,” he said, and you scoffed, pulling away to look at him.

“I’m not jealous,” you said, hoping you sounded more confident than you felt.

“I was just… I was making sure that… I…” you stammered before sighing, your shoulders falling in defeat.

“Yeah, okay maybe I was a little jealous. But clearly, we’re here together and she just kept staring at you, and don’t even get me started on how she talked to me.” You could feel yourself sinking deeper into your thoughts, hating that your stupid insecurities were about to ruin the date.

“What did she say to you?” He asked, his eyebrows furrowing. You shook your head, debating on not telling him, but his deep green eyes were full of concern and worry.

“Just that I don’t look like the salad type,” you said, lowering your head in embarrassment. A hand came up to cup your cheek and your eyes met his once again.

“That’s bullshit. You’re beautiful. The most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen. I’m only yours, sweetheart,” he said, sincerely, before pulling you into a gentle kiss. It was scary how easily that calmed you down. You had struggled with insecurities for the majority of your life, and it usually took a couple of days, if not weeks, to pull yourself out of the dark hole in your mind, but one kiss from Dean, and all of the sudden, your heart stops racing and your thoughts slow.

Your kiss was disrupted by a clatter of plates on the table. Carmen didn’t speak a word to either of you and she was about to leave when Dean called out to her.

“You’re going to apologize to my girlfriend and then we’re getting a new server. You have no right to speak to her like that,” Dean defended you, an angry look on his face.

“Dean,” you whispered, a bit embarrassed by how this was going. She wasn’t exactly wrong, you weren’t supermodel-thin nor did you have amazing curves that drove men wild.

“Sorry,” Carmen said, not sounding sorry at all, before spinning on her heels and walking away from the table.

“Bitch,” Dean muttered, his eyebrows furrowing as he noticed you were lost in your thoughts, a small frown on your face. He pressed a kiss to the side of your head before you turned to look up at him.

“Let’s just enjoy our date,” you said with a hopeful smile, and he nodded. Forty minutes, a pastrami sandwich, and a double bacon cheeseburger later, you were giggling like a schoolgirl, enamored by the man sitting next to you.

“Sammy was sitting on the handlebars while I rode us to the hospital!” Dean exclaimed and you laughed at the story. He snatched a fry off your plate and dipped it in ketchup before shoving it in his mouth. You were acutely aware of the warmth radiating from his thigh that was pressed against yours. Caught up in his green eyes, you didn’t notice a man approach the table.

“How was the food?” You jumped, shocked at his sudden appearance. It was the manager, John or Jacob or something with a ‘J’. He came over after you complained about Carmen, apologizing for her behavior and telling you that he would be serving you for the rest of the night.

You beamed at him, completely satisfied with the pastrami sandwich that was now happily sitting in your stomach.

“Great!” Dean responded, flashing him a smile. The manager returned the smile before continuing.

“Because of your unpleasant start to the evening, dessert is on us. We have root beer floats, ice cream sundaes, and a variety of pies,” he listed, and you immediately looked at Dean whose eyes lit up.

“We’ll take a slice of apple pie, please,” Dean responded right away, his hand squeezing yours in excitement. You giggled at the smile on his face. The manager nodded and left the table, the two of you falling into a comfortable silence. You looked up at him, admiring the freckles dotting his face. He gave you a soft smile that you returned and you leaned in for a kiss. It was a chaste kiss, not one of need or lust, but adoration and love.

Throughout the months, you have accepted that you had fallen for the oldest Winchester brother. There was the obvious fact that he was your soulmate, the one person in the world made exactly for you, but you knew that even if that weren’t the case, you would have still been in love with Dean. You loved his wit and charm, often catching yourself imagining his flirtatious winks. Not only was he gorgeous to look at, but he didn’t flaunt it like other men did. Sure, he knew he was attractive, but you at times, you sensed deep-rooted insecurities from him, which you thought was ridiculous since he was basically built like a Greek god. He was selfless to a fault; always putting everyone before himself. His loyalty to Sam was admirable, and you had no doubt that he would do anything for those he loved.

The manager placed a giant steaming slice of pie between the two of you, two forks on the side of the plate as well as whipped cream. You expected Dean to dig right in, but he looked at you expectantly. The scent of the spiced apple filled wafted from the plate and made your mouth salivate. Dean picked up a fork and detached a large piece from the tip of the slice. Before you could even register his actions, he brought the fork up to your mouth and pressed it against your closed lips. You accepted it without question, humming as the warm treat hit your tongue.

“That bad, huh?” Dean joked with a twinkle in his eye. You smiled at him before returning the favor. Your fork didn’t grab nearly as big of a piece as his did, but you focused on the way his lips wrapped around the fork. His tongue swiped at his upper lip, not wanting to waste a single crumb of pie.

Heat pooled in your belly and you clenched your thighs together, remembering just how much of an expert he was with his tongue. He groaned, his eyes closed as he savored the pie, and the sound shot straight to the apex of your thighs. You let out a small whimper, and his eyes flashed open. His green eyes swept your figure, taking in your squished thighs and flushed neck before smirking at you.

“Later, sweetheart,” he promised, his fingers dancing on the top of your thighs. You could feel his warmth through your jeans, sparks of electricity shooting through you with every touch. You shuffled closer to him, wanting your bodies as close as possible.

“You want some more?” He offered to you and you nodded, not trusting yourself to speak. Dean got another piece of pie and shoved it in his mouth. You looked at him, confused, and he smirked at you once again before pulling you into a searing kiss. You let out a soft moan as his tongue played with yours, the taste of apple pie fresh in your mouths. His hand tightened around your thigh at the sound. He was the first to pull away, breathless.

“Let’s get this to go, ya?” He suggested with a wink and you giggled, nodding. You were lost in his smile, noting the way his eyes crinkled at the corners and his full lips turned up. He waved the manager down and asked for a box and the check. You placed the pie delicately in the take-out box as Dean set down enough cash to cover for the meal and tip.

You slid out of the booth first, pulling your leather jacket on and Dean’s hand rested on the small of your back, leading the both of you out of the diner. As you expected, the air was crisp and chilled. He opened the door of the Impala for you, making sure you were safely inside before shutting it. You watched as he jogged over to the driver's side, sliding in next to you. Grateful for the long bench, you shifted closer to Dean and his hand came to rest comfortably on your thigh.

The soft sounds of Bon Jovi whispered through the speakers, barely noticeable unless you strained your ears. The windows were closed this time due to the slightly colder weather, but you were warm with Dean beside you.

There wasn’t much talking on the way home. You sat in a comfortable silence, occasionally feeling his eyes on your face, but every time you looked at him, he was looking away, a smile on his face. After the third time, you huffed and grabbed his hand from your thigh, interlacing your fingers with his. He looked at you, surprise written on his face, and you gave him a triumphant smile. He brought your interlocked hands up to his lips, pressing a gentle kiss to the top of your hand.

Before you knew it, the familiar light of your street came into view and he pulled his car up in front of your house. You didn’t want to let go of his hand, so you slid out his door after he did, holding the box of pie in your other hand. The crickets were chirping as you walked up to the front door.

‘Later, sweetheart,’ came the echo of his voice throughout your mind, and you pulled him into the house, roughly kissing him once the door was closed. His arms came to your shoulders, gently pushing off the sleeves of your leather jacket. You struggled a little bit, not wanting to drop the pie in your hand, before Dean took it from you, setting it on the small table next to your door that usually held nothing but a small succulent.

He pulled off your shirt in a swift motion and his lips began traveling down your neck, occasionally sucking and licking sensitive spots. You gasped as he nibbled your earlobe.

“So responsive,” he murmured and an involuntary shiver ran through your body. His leg gently pushed your legs apart and his thigh pressed against your covered core. His hands gripped your waist, and you ground against his thigh, the friction of your jeans rubbing against your sensitive bud in a deliciously perfect way.

“Good girl,” he praised, continuing his trail of kisses from your neck down to the tops of your breasts.

“So beautiful,” he whispered to himself, staring at your flushed chest. You were wearing a simple bra, nothing fancy or particularly sexy, but Dean made you feel like you were in expensive lingerie, draped in the finest lace and silk in the world. You moaned wantonly, begging for more. You picked up the rhythm, moving faster against his thigh. He watched you with lust-filled eyes, devouring you. The pressure between your legs kept building until it finally peaked, and you came with a loud moan. Dean placed gentle kisses on your sweaty forehead, relaxing you as you came down from your high. His leg came down, setting your feet gently on the floor. Your legs felt like jello, occasional spasms wracking through them.

“Maybe we should move this to the bedroom,” you suggested, not wanting the night to be over. He picked you up in his arms and carried you bridal style into your room. He gently tossed you onto the bed. He peeled his clothes off and you wriggled out of your tight jeans and soaked underwear. Your hands went behind your back to unclasp your bra and you flung it off the bed, hearing it land on the floor with a soft thud. You laid back down on the bed, fully naked and ready for Dean.

His eyes swept over your naked body and you spied his cock straining through the fabric of his boxers. He quickly discarded his underwear and laid on top of you, his firm chest pressing against your naked breasts. You could feel him hard against your stomach and you snaked a hand between the two of you, wrapping your hand around his shaft.

Your thumb wiped across the slit, catching the beads of precum that were leaking from his tip. His breath caught and you slowly pumped him in your hands. One of his large hands came to rest on your right breast, his thumb brushing against your pebbled nipple. The other hand dipped into your wet folds, collecting your juices on his digits. You watched him suck them off his fingers before they were venturing into you once again. You whined, not wanting to wait another second for his cock to be inside you.

“Please,” you said, squirming beneath him. He had one hand lazily circling your clit and the other pinching and tugging at your breasts.

“Please what, sweetheart?” he asked, power dripping from his words. You searched for more friction, but couldn’t find any.

“Please fuck me,” you begged. “I want to feel you inside me please. Fill me up with your big cock.”

“Fuck, baby,” he swore under his breath, before lining himself at your entrance. With a single thrust, he was completely unleashed in you, and you let out an embarrassingly loud moan. He groaned into your neck, still not used to your tightness and warmth surrounding him. When you were adjusted to his large size, he began moving inside you.

His cock dragged along your walls with every thrust, emptying you and filling you repeatedly. Your legs hooked around his back, driving him deeper into you, hitting places you didn’t even know existed. Your moans bounced off the walls, as did his low grunts.

“Come for me, sweetheart,” he demanded, his fingers working your clit once again. Your eyes clenched shut as you came around him with a scream. He pulled you into a bruising kiss and his thrusts became sloppy as he raced to catch his release, pulling out of you and spilling himself on your chest and stomach. Spent, he rolled next to you, the two of you heaving to catch your breath.

“Wow,” you whispered once your racing heart began to slow. He turned his face towards you, grinning.

“Yeah,” he agreed, before climbing out of bed to get you a damp towel. The two of you cleaned up in silence. He pulled on boxers and you pulled on underwear and his t-shirt, switching the light off before falling back into bed. His arms rested around you, your chests pressed against each other.

“Thank you for taking me on a date,” you said, catching his eyes with yours, “I’ve never been on one before, but I’m glad I waited for you.” You felt his body tense and his lips pressed tightly together.

“Sweetheart,” he started, and you saw regret fill his eyes.

“I should’ve waited for you. I wish I did,” he admitted, his voice tense. You shook your head and tried to press closer to him, but he pulled away.

“Dean,” you asked, confused, but it was his turn to shake his head.

“I never thought I’d meet you. I always thought this—,” he gestured towards your body, “you— I thought it was impossible. The life I live is not made for soulmates. I never imagined myself living a normal life with my soulmate. I couldn’t even bear the thought of it. So I didn’t.”

He ran a hand down his face, an exhausted sigh escaping his lips. You tugged at his hand, wanting to see him.

“I know that you have more experience than I do, Dean. That doesn’t bother me,” you tried to explain, but he pulled his hand away from yours.

“You don’t even know half of it,” he snapped back, and you pulled back at his sharp tone.

“Then explain it to me,” you demanded, knowing that this conversation had been boiling for a while and that it was only a matter of time before it reared its ugly head again. Dean must’ve known it too, because his eyes softened and he rolled onto his back, staring at the ceiling.

“At first, it was just a bunch of one-night stands,” he started, and you laid stiffly, afraid that he would stop talking if you moved.

“I spent a lot of nights picking up girls in bars. I would flirt with them and take ‘em home. I’d show them a good time and leave before they’d wake up in the morning. It went on like that for years. I didn’t think I’d ever meet you. Hell, I didn’t even know if I’d be alive to meet you.

“But then I met Lisa, and for the first time in my life, I wanted to spend another night with a girl. I ended up spending a whole week at her place. I knew she wasn’t my soulmate. I knew that her soulmate died in a car accident years before. I knew that the universe didn’t perfectly make us for each other, but at the time, I didn’t care. Sam and Dad were on a case and I was alone.

“I thought about her a lot during my time on the road. I wanted to cling onto something— I needed to cling onto something. Years passed, and I still didn’t meet you. Me and Sammy ended up working a case in her city. I met her son.”

Your breath hitched. Her son? Dean turned his head towards you at the sound and saw the panic flash across your eyes.

“Oh no, Ben wasn’t my kid. I swear,” he tried to reassure you, but you didn’t feel comforted at the thought, you merely nodded, gesturing for him to resume his story.

“The apocalypse was approaching, and I was scared. I was weak and scared. I didn’t think I’d make it, and I had accepted the fact that I wouldn’t meet you before the world ended. I thought Lisa and Ben were all I had. I dreamed about her, quite a bit, really. I dreamed about having a life with her, mowing the lawn on Saturdays and picking Ben up from baseball practice. I visited her again before the whole Lucifer-Michael showdown happened. I told her that I’d made arrangements to keep her and Ben safe, and she asked me to stay with her, but I knew that I couldn’t. I had to be there for Sammy. For Bobby.

“But then, Sam was in the cage. I was lost and broken. So I did the only thing that I could think of. I left the hunting life and moved in with Lisa.” His words pierced you like a knife, your heart shattering into pieces. Tears pooled in your eyes.

You weren’t exactly sure why you were upset. It wasn’t his fault that the two of you hadn’t met at the time. It wasn’t his fault that he met Lisa before he met you. It wasn’t his fault that he sought comfort in her when you weren’t there for him. You knew it was no one’s fault, just circumstance, but that didn’t keep you from feeling a sting of betrayal.

“How long?” You whispered, knowing that if you spoke any louder it would crack and you would burst into tears. You weren’t even sure if you wanted to know the answer. He was silent for a moment, and you thought he wouldn’t respond.

“A year,” he said, his voice hoarse, seemingly filled with regret, concern, and pain. Your stomach dropped. A year? He spent a whole year with her. A whole year with her and her son. Their son. It didn’t matter that Dean wasn’t Ben’s biological father, you already knew that Dean loved him like his own. You let out a shaky breath, preparing yourself to ask the question that had been floating around your mind ever since he started.

“Did you love her?”

You couldn’t even meet his eyes. You looked anywhere but him, your eyes roaming over your ceiling instead of the green eyes that were staring at you. He was quiet, and you closed your eyes, feeling tears spill down the side of your face.

“I thought I did, but I don’t know anymore,” came his whispered reply. “In some ways, it probably was love. But not the kind of love that would survive. I couldn’t live a life without hunting. She couldn’t live a life with hunting.”

You winced at his words. The implication that if they were able to compromise, he wouldn’t be laying next to you right now, but next to her. You wished he had just said yes. Maybe it would’ve hurt less.

“Okay,” you said because there was nothing else to say. You contemplated kicking him out of the bed, but you still loved him, and you knew that it would just pain you more. You turned over on your side, your back facing him. You pulled the covers up, wanting them to swallow you whole. There was movement on the bed and you heard the shuffling of sheets, feeling Dean’s warm body come close to yours to hold you, but you tensed up.

“Please don’t,” you whispered, and he stilled before respecting your wishes, retreating back to his side of the bed. You gripped a pillow against your side, hugging it for comfort. You tried to keep your sobs silent, but there was no use hiding them.

You cried for your pain and hurt, wanting to hate Dean, but you couldn’t. You cried for the love lost between the two of you. You cried because you didn’t know if he even wanted you. But most of all, you cried for Dean. You cried for the burdens he’s endured and that you couldn’t be there for him during times of hardship. You cried because you knew that it wasn’t Dean’s fault, yet here you were punishing him because you were really punishing yourself.

As your tears slowed and your breath became steady again, you were exhausted. You were already drifting off to sleep when you felt Dean’s fingers in your hair and a gentle kiss to your forehead. Too tired to argue, you snuggled into his body and let sleep take you away.

Taglist: @akshi8278 @skyewardolicitycloisdelena91 @lanea-1 @slamminmine

#dean winchester #dean winchester x reader #dean winchester x female reader #dean winchester x soulmate!reader #dean winchester x y/n #reader x dean #reader x dean winchester #y/n x dean winchester #y/n x dean #dean winchester angst #dean angst #dean winchester fluff #dean fluff #supernatural #supernatural series #muffinbeliever

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hamliet · 3 years

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What Does It Mean to Save?

I keep seeing it said that Deku, Ochaco, and Shouto will “save” Shigaraki, Himiko, and Dabi, but that there will be no redemption and/or no survival for them. I’m truly not trying to vague these posts and everyone is entitled to their opinion, but literary criticism is fundamentally responsive so I’m writing this anyways.

I personally think that’s not BNHA’s definition of saving nor of redemption. So here, have a deep dive into literary tropes related to redemption, genre, and character arcs as they pertain to BNHA and the question of: what does it mean to save Shigaraki, Touya, and Himiko?

Before we begin, let me say that while we might be personally uncomfortable with redemption (there’s a redemption arc in BNHA I am personally quite uncomfortable with), that doesn’t inherently mean the narrative won’t go there. The key principle I’m operating on here is BNHA’s message that heroes save people. It’s held up as the highest ideal.

So let’s talk redemption in BNHA-verse. With this guy, whose redemption arc I dislike in principle but accept as part of the story so don’t come for me stans and/or antis. I’m analyzing because it shows us what redemption means in BNHA-verse, whether or not that is satisfying to you personally as it fits/does not fit with your own morality/philosophy.

If Endeavor can be redeemed and live, and he’s Bakugou’s negative foil, I highly doubt Shigaraki and Deku as well as Touya and Shouto and Ochaco and Himiko will be any different. Why? Because Enji is an adult character. The others--well, Himiko’s age we don’t know, but we do know that Shigaraki and Dabi are technically adults. But does the story consider them adults?

(It doesn’t.)

Child-coded characters are generally more likely to survive a redemption, which I’ll explain more later. First I have to define what I mean by child-coding, because I DO NOT mean this in the way it’s often (mis)used in fandom wank. Child-coding is a real thing, but it is not done to infantilize and it has nothing to do with shipping.

Child coding frames the character as a child for a few narrative purposes to convey a story’s theme or purpose. For example, if it’s a coming of age story coding a character as a child even if they legally are not emphasizes their journey to an understanding of self-actualization, or a true understanding of self with self-awareness and an understanding of self-value. An example of an adult coded as a child is The Kite Runner, wherein Amir is a legal adult for half the story, even married for fifteen years so we’re talking 30s-40s, but he does not truly become an adult until he returns to his homeland and takes responsibility for a childhood sin. In Attack on Titan, the main characters are now nineteen, but are still struggling to take responsibility as adults and have only started doing so now that their mentors/parental figures have started dying.

Along those lines, in any kind of story, you can code a character as a child of someone, regardless of biological relationship, to convey the type of relationship they have (usually a mentor one). For an example of this, see Bungo Stray Dogs’ Dazai and Akutagawa. Despite their two year age difference, Dazai recruited him to the mafia, abandoned him, and Akutagawa desperately seeks his approval. Usually in these stories a character will “overcome” their parental figure. This can be done through overcoming their need for the parental figure’s approval in stories where the parental figure is kindly (such as in Harry Potter, when in the final book Harry, Ron, and Hermione leave the Weasleys to find the Horcruxes despite Mrs. Weasley’s please) or through like, killing/stopping/leaving the parental figure when they are abusive (see fairy tales like Rapunzel and Cinderella). The parental link to self-actualization is because it is childlike (and a part of actual psychology that is reflected in literature) to see yourself as a part of your parent; self-actualized person would see yourself as a distinct person from your parent, but also acknowledge the ways in which they’ve shaped you.

So, how do you code a character as a child? BNHA isn’t subtle about it, because Horikoshi seldom is subtle about anything. The villain trio are all coded as children.

Shigaraki Tomura:

Who cannot achieve self-actualization so long as AFO has access to his body, as he’s literally trying to possess him. He’s trying, but it’s not gonna work because Shigaraki can’t keep AFO and become an adult at the same time. It’s a choice the narrative is setting up: your dream of destroying, or your freedom? (To get the latter, he’ll probably have to destroy AFO).

Todoroki Touya, who is repeatedly emphasized as a small child when compared to his siblings, and yes, I know he’s now tall. Specifically he’s spotlighted as the child of Endeavor:

And he’s the least self-actualized one in a lot of ways, contradicting himself constantly. I’m not Endeavor, DUH! But these are Endeavor’s flames! He’s gonna have to choose one or the other, because the tragic irony is that the more he takes out his rage on those around him, the more like Endeavor he becomes.

And Toga Himiko (who might well literally be a legal child), who is actually the most self-actualized one thus far, because she rejects Curious’s child insistence (Curious holds her in a Pieta pose, based on Michelangelo’s statue wherein Mary holds a deceased Christ):

She’s still got, like, a way to go though:

Because Himiko also wants to be like the people she loves to the point where she loses her own identity in them, which is er, not self-actualization. So she’ll have to choose whether or not she really wants to be like the people she loves or whether she wants to live her own way, which she herself tells us how that would end (death):

Deku said it himself: it’s good to focus on what someone is doing now. And look, I have issues with this statement and how it’s framed. I’ve talked about it at length and it was doomed to fail because Shouto himself told us long ago that it was annoying to hear a righteous speech by a stranger when you hadn’t gone through the same, plus Endeavor kinda failed by choosing being a hero over a dad here. But, the principle is that if the past doesn’t preclude Endeavor from seeking a better self, why would it preclude three characters coded as children, one of whom is literally somewhat the product of Endeavor’s sins? BNHA doesn’t think the past keeps someone from a better future.

So what about Dabi’s counterpoint, which is indeed valid? Well, redemption doesn’t mean the past forgets, either. It’s complicated and nuanced, and we can debate how well Horikoshi strikes this nuance (it’s got its flaws), and admittedly I don’t know how this will go down in the future. But it is asking Endeavor: how do you redeem yourself to the people you’ve hurt? And we have Endeavor asking this question to Touya’s shrine. I mean, the foreshadowing is obvious. Endeavor has to redeem himself by trying to save Touya. However, it will still probably come down to Shouto to save Touya.

For our three villains, it’s a little harder to predict... well, sort of. For Shigaraki it’s extremely obvious: he has to help take down AFO. Dabi probably has to do something to help his family (siblings probably), but it’s vague. Toga needs help and not condemnation, but presumably she’ll help Ochaco with something.

So, is this redemption? I’d define it as redemption in the eyes of the narrative. To address what makes a redemption is another essay unto itself, but if we bring in the oft-compared Star Wars example: did Darth Vader get a redemption? Did Ben Solo? Everyone says yes to both. However, only Luke witnesses Vader’s redemption, and only Rey Ben Solo’s. So the rest of the galaxy? Doesn’t think so. When I say they’ll be redeemed, I’m defining it as their role in the eyes of the narrative, not whether or not society will accept them or even whether their victims will forgive them (of note, in canonical novels, Leia never forgave Darth Vader despite learning he was her father and obviously knowing Luke’s account of his redemption was true).

So, redemption in a narrative doesn’t mean all of society has to forgive and accept them. Dabi has still like, murdered 30 people--many of whom were thugs, but he himself acknowledges they didn’t deserve to die. Additionally, he himself also acknowledges that the families left behind--their feelings matter:

But why does that mean they have to die? Why even does it mean they have to languish in prison forever? (If there’s even a safe prison at the end of BNHA which I kinda have doubts about.) Heroes have also killed: see Hawks as Exhibit A. In fact, some people want revenge on the heroes precisely because they arrested or killed their loved ones (jail isn’t held up as a rehabilitative place in BNHA’s world. In most countries it isn’t in real life, either, but again that’s for another essay). So why don’t the League’s feelings on Twice’s death matter just as much as the feelings of unnamed and unseen (and thereby less important narratively) characters?

Additionally, regarding death... the villains routinely get called on their death wishes. Himiko’s determination to decide how/when she dies is called out because this is right before Twice overcomes his trauma to save her, and the next arc they appear in is when Twice dies trying to save her again. Dabi’s suicide wish keeps him from getting close to others, and it keeps getting thwarted. Shigaraki’s obsession with destruction and death is clearly not a good thing, and his rejection of his family’s desire for them to join him in death this past arc is growth.

In other words: what Dabi said and what Snatch said about families and how they feel matter for the villains too. The villains are their own weird found family (Dabi as the deadbeat prodigal brother of both his families). Their deaths--Magne’s and Twice’s thus far, and I’m not ruling out further deaths in the future--affect the others. People’s feelings on losing loved ones matter. The villains are people, as Himiko said herself this arc:

Their feelings about each other matter:

How would Touya dying affect the Todorokis? At least they saved him spiritually, I guess, but that’s absolutely lame narratively, and if you have Enji eventually do a sacrifice to save Dabi (pretty likely, even if I personally think Enji will survive said sacrifice) then what’s the point of Dabi dying? How would Himiko dying affect society? As a martyr like Curious wanted her to be, even a redeemed one? A tragic warning story? What even is the point of Ochaco saving her if that’s the case? If Shigaraki dies, well, who would mourn besides Deku? How would Shigaraki dying affect the surviving members of the league? He just couldn’t be saved physically?

It’s not impossible some of this happens, but it doesn’t seem like great writing, especially with panels like, oh, these that show us BNHA’s perspective on death:

Sacrificing something is a type of death that occurs in stories; this should happen in a redemption arc, which is why I’ve been saying Enji needs to sacrifice his hero reputation to help save Touya and even then it’ll still be Shouto imo who does the saving. But physical death?

If you want further analysis of the latter two panels and how they relate to the ending, see here.

We already have another villain who will definitely die redemptively (Kurogiri--an adult coded character--because he’s already, like, dead), and Spinner and Mr. Compress aren’t coded as kids so I hold them with anxiety towards the end. But again, this isn’t me being ageist or saying this is the way things ought to be in fiction or real life: it’s me looking at writing tropes and saying that child-coded characters tend to survive their redemptions. See: Zuko. Why? Because the death of children or child-coded characters is a tragedy. When a child-coded character dies redemptively it doesn’t feel like a happy ending and if framed as such, it’s often criticized for bad writing (see: Ben Solo). Curious even called this out in her fight with Himiko. I would hope Horikoshi doesn’t end the story being like yeah Curious was right that’s the best use of Himiko’s/Dabi’s/Shigaraki’s arcs:

Additionally, as for the believability of a character getting a new chance after so much destruction and murder... well, it’s kinda a thing in shonen and even in seinen? For better or for worse, it’s a thing. We have Vegeta in Dragon Ball Z and Kaneki Ken in Tokyo Ghoul (Kaneki, by the way, is absolutely an inspiration for Shigaraki). We can debate how well-written these redemptions are (I personally have been quite critical of Kaneki’s despite wanting it to happen narratively), but it can be done. BNHA’s Japan especially isn’t as harsh a world as Tokyo Ghoul’s Japan, so it would make even more sense for something like Kaneki’s ending.

The reality is that the cycle of revenge via hurting people and then leaving hurting families and loved ones has to stop somewhere. Someone has to be the bigger person and step up and be like “naw.” That’s heroic. That’s brave. That’s sacrificial itself. Justice itself doesn’t really exist in its purest form without mercy.

There’s another genre-reason I don’t see death or jail as likely (I could see, like, maybe a mental health ward like Rei’s? But it’s too soon to speculate).

If saving is considered a good thing for the story, if it’s truly the highest ideal, then saving someone should be rewarded by the narrative. The characters who save should have a positive result to show us this a good thing.

This is why it doesn’t work for the heroes’ end journey to be accepting that some people cannot be saved. The notion of just accepting that you cannot do something, you cannot save everyone, you cannot, cannot, cannot, is called out as a flaw of society. Determination, on the other hand, is rewarded.

We see it with Deku as well as with Mirio.

So, what if they save them and the redeemed characters then go on to sacrifice themselves in their redemption and die (come to the same end)? If saving changes absolutely nothing for the saved person, if it’s too late for the saved from themselves to change and/or do anything that matters besides die, then the narrative theme of saving as important is left unemphasized at best and undermined at worst. Simple intrinsic knowledge that the kids “did the right thing” doesn’t cut it for a story with so much focus on physical saving when the kids are already doing the right thing; moral struggles about whether to choose to be good aren’t really Deku, Ochaco, or Shouto’s arcs. It works for Aizawa’s arc with Kurogiri, but not for the kiddos. If BNHA was more of a philosophical/spiritual text, that would indeed make sense, but it is not. Genre-wise, BNHA is a fantastical superhero optimistic story, not a gritty real-world set drama.

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kitsu-katsu · 3 years

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Why c!Wilbur blowing stuff up for shits and giggles as a child makes no sense for his character (and why that would reflect a lot more badly on c!Phil anyways if that were the case):

Warning: c!Phil critical ahead, if you don't like that, skip this post

Now, to those of you that decide to read this: Strap in folks! We've got a lot of ground to cover this from and a ton of quotes ahead!

1) Wilbur’s a pacifist through and through. He always preached words over weapons, only fought when attacked first, wanted to ignore a war until it went away, considered giving up his nation many times, etc. A few examples of quotes to show this thinking:

“Basically, we have such a lower opportunity here that we probably just need to accept the conditions of surrender, just so we can save any more bloodshed, any more destruction on our land. They’ve entrapped our land, they’ve set up bombs on our land, they’ve destroyed all our homes. To stop any more bloodshed, I feel I would be a bad general if I didn’t look for conditions of surrender.” - (Wilbur’s The Revolution is Coming: 30:32, 2nd Aug)

“Tommy, we need you alive. Tommy, this isn’t worth it. Tommy, your life is worth more than the revolution.” - (Wilbur’s The Revolution is Coming: 34:57:, 2nd Aug)

“What has made you do everything you’ve done up to this point?” (Quackity)

“That’s a- That’s a big question. Um. I guess it’s just protection for my people. I mean, I- I- I just want to see them thrive, and I want to see them safe.” (Alivebur)

- (Quackity’s Killing My Enemies: 1:03:02, 12th Apr)

“Look, do you know how long and how much blood was shed to get L’Manberg to the point it was at? You know what would happen if we manage to get L’Manberg back again? More blood would be shed, and we would be the illegitimate rulers of a nation.” - (Wilbur’s video Am I the Villain?: 18:52)

“We don’t win wars with battles and with armour. We win wars with our words, Tommy. We’re starting a revolution, not a war.” - (Wilbur’s The Wall: 4:54, 29th July)

“I’m not a fighter, I’m a writer.” - (Wilbur’s The Wall: 1:48:31, 29th July)

“Fighting is not necessary right now, Tommy.” - (Wilbur’s the election results: 43:42, 22nd Sep)

“Tommy, control yourself. Tommy, control yourself, it’s not worth it. Tommy, do not take your shot! He disrespected me, yes! But we’ve talked about this, Tommy…!” - (Wilbur’s techno and wilbur make cave better: 59:36, 23rd Sep)

2) The reason his thoughts about blowing it all up in Pogtopia even hit as hard, the reason all his allies were so shocked about him going through with it IS his pacifism first mindset (which has only been put second when he’s been attacked first and put in the defensive or in the case of his speech to Quackity after the political debate he genuinely thought, by the previous failure of his philosophy and the war trauma spurred on mainly by the FCR and Eret’s betrayal, that the only way to truly win respect and make a change in the world was through fighting and killing, which he was convinced of but was ultimately always too soft to actually go through with (note how he doesn’t kill anyone in the L’manburg explosion and how in the times during Pogtopia in which he declared he wanted people dead, he got second thoughts, regrets, retracted his statement or protected people with his actions):

“If you want to really help people, you’re gonna need power, Quackity. You can make a movement, you can make a resistance, right, you can go out and you can come back, and they’ll give you a ticker tape parade. They’ll cheer for you in the streets, but you will change nothing.” - (Quackity’s Killing My Enemies: 1:05:42, 12th Apr)

“If you have a revolution, everyone will hate you, you will sacrifice everything, and you will lose everything you’ve ever had, but you’ll come back and everything will be changed.” - (Quackity’s Killing My Enemies: 1:05:59, 12th Apr)

“And power isn’t gaining from diplomacy, and bureaucracy, and giant courthouses suspended in the sky, blah blah blah. It’s gained from swords, Quackity. It’s gained from blades, it’s gained from steel, iron.” - (Quackity’s Killing My Enemies: 1:06:19, 12th Apr)

“We blow up the entire fucking place to kingdom come. I want no survivors. God help whoever’s caught in the fucking crossfire.” - (Wilbur’s video, Am I The Villain?: 17:52)

“And, I know you’re scared, Tommy, I understand you’re scared. And it’s scary, it’s scary, Tommy, but do you know what? You know what? In a time like this, when a man has nothing to lose, do you know what that means? It means we can do what we want. We have a man on our side who literally rigged our nation with TNT. We can do the same to them. We can rig this festival with TNT. We can kill them all, Tommy. ” - (Wilbur’s who are you go away: 1:15:52, 8th Oct)

“Anyone caught in the crossfire is caught in the crossfire. That’s how it goes, you know? - (Wilbur’s who are you go away: 1:41:22, 8th Oct)

“Chat, do I wanna- Chat, do I wanna, do I wanna do it? I’m having second thoughts about the TNT. Chat, I’m having second thoughts about the TNT. Do I wanna kill these people? Seeing that they’re my friends.” - (Wilbur’s The Festival: 34:09, 16th Oct)

“Tommy, I’m getting second thoughts. These are my friends, I don’t- Do I- I don’t know if I wanna [inaudible].” - (Wilbur’s The Festival: 36:17, 16th Oct)

“Just, if you’re gonna kill anyone else, kill me. Don’t kill anyone else here.” - (Wilbur’s The Festival: 1:10:53, 16th Oct)

“You sounded like you were gonna murder another person. You sounded like you were gonna go for Niki.” - (Wilbur’s The Festival: 1:12:34, 16th Oct)

“Oh, yes, sorry, Niki, you missed that part. I was gonna blow up Manberg, I was gonna completely destroy it in a huge fireball. Look, Niki, come to Pogtopia, you’re safer here. You’re not gonna be hurt by anyone.” - (Wilbur’s The Festival: 1:17:59, 16th Oct)

“No you two can escape, I’ll be the… I’ll- I’ll- I’ll be… I’ll be trapped in here…” - (Wilbur’s Speedy Stream Festival What festival: 27:27, 17th Oct)

“I don’t, I don’t, I don’t want to kill you two. I don’t want you two to die.” - (Wilbur’s Speedy Stream Festival What festival: 28:53, 17th Oct)

3) He was inspired by Dream blowing up L’manburg first with Eret’s betrayal during the first revolution. He knew Dream wanted L’manburg out of the picture and had tried it before. It’s why he knew to immediately ask him for TNT, because either way, Dream would benefit from both side’s mutually assured destruction:

“Here’s the plan, right, Dream. Dream is on our side, Dream has TNT, Dream has everything, right. I say we talk to Dream, and we ask him very nicely, very kindly, ‘Dream, give us all the TNT you have’. ” - (Wilbur’s who are you go away: 1:12:22, 8th Oct)

“Remember, how he rigged L’Manberg, like ages ago, during the War? And then he detonated the TNT and destroyed the entire thing? We do that again, everyone, we blow up the entire fucking place to kingdom come.” - (Wilbur’s who are you go away: 1:12:36, 8th Oct)

“The only reason that Dream is working with us, is because of the fact that we are the enemies of his enemies! That’s it! That’s all that joins this!” - (Wilbur’s who are you go away: 1:14:35, 8th Oct)

“Dream, let me be your vassal. Dream, I understand you have a lot of TNT, a lot of the ol’ trinitrotoluene in your possession, don’t you? You do! Dream, I want to be your vassal, I want to set this up, I want to rig the city.” - (Wilbur’s who are you go away: 1:33:27, 8th Oct)

4) Wilbur hesitated a LOT with the detonation, wanted to be stopped, told people his plan in detail and was overall in a deep internal conflict about the whole thing (and didn’t blow it up once to not kill Tommy and Quackity too, this is also the moment in which his suicidal tendencies are the most clear in his lines before the 16th). Ultimately he decided to do it because he was suicidal and deeply suffering from mental health issues, believed himself to be the root of all bad in the server and by extension, L’manburg was too, and by that point his original view for L’manburg had been so twisted by Schlatt anyway that in his POV it’d only be used to hurt more people anyway:

“I- Look, rigging L’Manberg is not gonna help us get it back, I’m aware of that. But sometimes in order to feel comfortable and safe you have to be ready to give up the things that you’re worried you might lose. And in this case, I think I might lose it already.” - (Wilbur’s who are you go away: 1:17:57, 8th Oct)

“I know there’s a lot of people, Tommy! … I’m not telling you where the button is, man. … Tommy, it’s over that hill, it’s over that hill, right there!” - (Wilbur’s The Festival: 28:30, 16th Oct)

“Tommy, I’m getting second thoughts. These are my friends, I don’t- Do I- I don’t know if I wanna [inaudible].” - (Wilbur’s The Festival: 36:17, 16th Oct)

“But this is the opportunity- this is the opportunity. If I don’t blow it up now, when am I gonna blow it up?! When am I gonna blow it up, Tommy? But when do- when do we do-” - (Wilbur’s The Festival: 36:30, 16th Oct)

“If I don’t do it now, what happens if this is the only chance I get. Everyone’s in this close situation, I can do some proper damage. Look, this isn’t a- He needs a consequence for his actions, Schlatt does, he can’t just keep being handsome and powerful and strong all the time. He needs, he needs to be put down a peg.” - (Wilbur’s The Festival: 37:07, 16th Oct)

“I can still call off this whole detonating at the end of the speech, dude. I can call it off.” - (Wilbur’s The Festival: 38:24, 16th Oct)

“Should I show you where the TNT’s laced? ‘Cause in a, in a last ditch effort, we may need to destroy it by hand, okay? So, under the chair, where Schlatt sits, there’s about twenty pieces, right? And then going under, under the main area here, following this red line, there is TNT all the way, and then it jut- and then it- … It darts up here, and over to the dance floor, but it doesn’t touch the water.” - (Wilbur’s The Festival: 38:29, 16th Oct)

“I have to light it, I’ve got to light it, I’ve got to light it.” - (Wilbur’s The Festival: 1:08:17, 16th Oct)

“Yesterday I had the perfect opportunity to blow everything up and finally end it, you know. I had the perfect opportunity to finally blow up everything and end it and just completely save everyone, right, from the tyranny of Schlatt and the tyranny of the existence of Manberg and L’Manberg, right.” - (Wilbur’s Speedy Stream Festival What festival: 25:17, 17th Oct)

“Explain it to me! Give me a reason! Give me a reason!” - (Wilbur’s Speedy Stream Festival What festival: 26:50, 17th Oct)

“Who else is it gonna hurt?! It’s gonna hurt Schlatt, Manberg, and-” - (Wilbur’s Speedy Stream Festival What festival: 26:55, 17th Oct)

“Why did I bring- I should have just done it. I’m such a fucking showman. I should have just done it.” - (Wilbur’s Speedy Stream Festival What festival: 27:18, 17th Oct)

“No you two can escape, I’ll be the… I’ll- I’ll- I’ll be… I’ll be trapped in here…” - (Wilbur’s Speedy Stream Festival What festival: 27:27, 17th Oct)

“I just- I just want to f… I just wanna end it, I wanna end it. I wanna press that button, man.” - (Wilbur’s Speedy Stream Festival What festival: 28:08, 17th Oct)

“I don’t, I don’t, I don’t want to kill you two. I don’t want you two to die.” - (Wilbur’s Speedy Stream Festival What festival: 28:53, 17th Oct)

“Ohh, fuck you! Fuck you, man! Why do you make it so hard?! I should have just- I’m such a fucking showman.” - (Wilbur’s Speedy Stream Festival What festival: 29:29, 17th Oct)

“Tommy, we’ve tried my ideas. I’m willing to listen to you. I’m gonna follow you, Tommy. Whatever you think is gonna be the best way of taking down Schlatt, we’ll do it. We’ve tried my ideas.” - (Wilbur’s Speedy Stream Festival What festival: 32:01, 17th Oct)

“My L’Manberg. My L’Manberg. As long- As long as I know the button is here… as long as I know. As long as I know the button is here. It’s just not today. I just need to know that it’s there for a fall-back. I need to know it’s there.” - (Wilbur’s Speedy Stream Festival What festival: 33:46, 17th Oct)

“I’ve been hasty. But the fact that I know it’s there, and I can just stroke my right mouse button, that’s all I need. As long as I know it’s there.” - (Wilbur’s Speedy Stream Festival What festival: 34:27, 17th Oct)

“You’ve convinced me, I don’t wanna go straight to Plan B, if Plan A fails.” - (Wilbur’s Speedy Stream Festival What festival: 39:02, 17th Oct)

“Look, Tommy, at the end of the day, if this doesn’t go well, I’m gonna blow the place to smithereens. The place will be gone, I’m gonna detonate it and blow it to smithereens, right, if this doesn’t go well. But it will go well…! … ‘Cause it’s literally- there’s no one on Schlatt’s side.” - (Wilbur’s smithereens: 21:00, 16th Nov)

“But none of them have the same anticipatory love of what they’re doing, unlike us. Everyone on our side is fighting for something we’ve loved, and had for ages, right. That’s why we’re gonna win, and that’s why you shouldn’t be afraid. And yes, the whole place is rigged.” - (Wilbur’s smithereens: 21:38, 16th Nov)

“I could, I really could, that’s the thing. That’s the bit that I like. It’s the bit that makes me smile the most is the fact that I definitely could.” - (Wilbur’s smithereens: 26:28, 16th Nov)

“Chekhov’s Gun. Chekhov’s Gun. I’ll be honest with you, chat, I’ve been wondering this whole time if it still works. I’ve been thinking to myself does it still- ‘Cause I fixed it up for today.” - (Wilbur’s smithereens: 1:11:36, 16th Nov)

“Phil, I’m always so close to pressing this button, Phil! I have been here, like seven or eight times I have been here… Seven or eight times” - (Wilbur’s smithereens: 1:14:56, 16th Nov)

“Phil, I’ve been here here so many times.” - (Wilbur’s smithereens: 1:15:13, 16th Nov)

“I don’t even know if it works anymore, Phil. I don’t even know if the button works. I could, I could… press it, and it might-” (Wilbur’s smithereens: 1:15:29, 16th Nov)

5) The one time anything about Wilbur using TNT while young (and here the age isn't as clearly implied as in Phil's thing, this could very well be more of teen Wilbur than kid Wilbur) is mentioned in the actual text is this one maybe-canon-maybe-not-so-canon-anymore line:

“Tommy, have you heard of TNT duplication? The flying machines that dup TNT? Phil taught me about them. He taught me about them- I’m sure he wouldn’t have taught me them if he knew what I was gonna do with them. But, he did teach me about them. … They were very useful, in this.” - (Wilbur’s The Festival: 11:30, 16th Oct)

Now let’s pretend that headcanon makes any sense and that yeah, Wilbur totally just enjoyed building shit to detonate and said tendency encouraged in childhood just up and carried into adulthood and manifested as him internally going “I must blow up this thing I made because that’s what I do” and let’s pretend that he didn’t have a big ass internal conflict about it.

Ok, so Phil said that Wilbur blew stuff up when little, so he’d have connected it to the button room. Now think for a moment: How does that reflect on Phil as a parent? Let’s forget about everything else for this one moment (and believe me, I’ve got no shortage of stuff to critique c!Phil on in regards to his relation with c!Wilbur) and just focus on this one action. A man freely lets his son use TNT to blow up some random stuff presumably made out of toys. Just a little kid playing with TNT, yup, that’s his boy. And it was to such a degree that the same man just went “Oh yeah! It’s totally the blowing shit up thing!” in a fraction of a second after seeing the button… And then yeah, saw all of the hesitation, the breakdown, the struggle, the wishes to die and impaled him with a sword, but we can go deeper into those aspects in another post

Then Phil tried to make it better by saying to chat that all kids just break stuff apart, more implying that little Wilbur wasn’t actually using explosives which… makes the whole thing even dumber, ngl, because at that point c!Phil is just saying “Oh yeah, he knocked over his lego houses when he was four, so when I saw that button I immediately went ‘Oh, of course! He rigged the place! What an obvious connection!’”. You see what I’m getting at?

TLDR: It doesn’t fit with canon and even if we shove it in with its implications, then c!Phil is just an idiot, whether it be from letting his kid freely play with TNT to such a degree that he deduces where his most drastic measure resulting from trauma and breakdowns is going just by seeing the button OR whether it be from him connecting dots where there are none if he tries to save his skin as a father and just say “Oh yeah, no, who didn’t knock over stuff as a kid, what do you mean?” not realizing that… exactly… who didn’t…. so it wouldn’t connect with the button room at all

#dsmp #dream smp #c!phil critical #c!phil negativity #c!wilbur #c!wilbur analysis #wilbur dsmp #wilbur #wilbur soot #pogtopia #l'manburg #Can you sense my saltiness? I hope you can #Did Phil play with explosives as a kid too or was Doomsday just his way of feeling young?#Was he just feeling young and quirky so he decided to go destroy some livelihoods with the bestie?#c!Phil (derogatory)#man wait until I make yet another c!Phil is a bad father and was horrible to everything left of Wil's legacy post #I'm about to destroy a rp old man /hj #I hope you can see how this makes zero sense too #like from so many angles #and the retracting that didn't go all the way is just ???#And this all trickles in from the Dreaded Letters Retcon Stream (derogatory)#Like really if it weren't for those retcons back then this wouldn't have happened #Because then Phil wouldn't need some complicated backstory reason for knowing what the button did #If he had gotten at least SOME info about stuff going awry from Wilbur's letters #And hoooo boy do I have some words to say about the letters stream #Which I have said in posts but I might just remake some #tw suicide #tw suicide mention #tw suicide ideation

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my-tin-can-mans · 3 years

Text

Time to Yourselves (Captain Rex x Reader)

warnings: oh boy there are none but this is tooth rotting fluff ya'll i couldn't help myself with this soft boy, he deserves so much love.

PSA: I know a lot of people are expecting a Part two to the Crosshair Fic i posted awhile back but some unexpected work came up and it might be awhile before I get a chance to actually sit down and write it sorry:/ i will tag everyone thats asked to be tagged in it tho!

But for now enjoy the fluff that is this! I need to write a good fluff fic.

When the ship had finally landed on Coruscant you heaved a sigh of relief. The 501st had just finished a gruesome battle which meant as a medic you had spent the way back to base in the medical wing bay treating patients aboard the Resolute. You’d seen just about every solider aboard helping them with injuries that ranged from a minor concussion to blaster wounds.

It had been a long couple of days and the one solider you really wanted to see was the one you had yet to have the pleasure of. The doors to the ship opened and you walked out, now that the battalion was on world, you would hand over your patients to the nurses that worked here instead while you got some much-needed time off like the rest of the 501st. You met up with the head medics on ground and passed off your paperwork filling them in on the more important injuries you happened to come across while working so they were prepared.

Once you had finished up with the medical bay you went off to look for the man you hadn’t seen in days. While it upset you that you hadn’t been able to speak a word to you, it also comforted you in knowing that he hadn’t shown up in the medical bay at any point in time which meant he was better off than most of the men on board at the time. You were busy enough as it was, and he probably was too trying to write up reports on what all had gone down.

You walked back towards the landing hanger knowing him and the general usually lingered around to talk before they went their separate ways for the remainder of their time off. Sure enough there you spotted him, the back of his buzzed cut blonde hair, bucket it hand placed on his hip, talking it up with General Skywalker. Skywalker caught you walking towards them and focused his gaze on you, making Rex finally turn around to look at you.

It had felt like forever since you had seen his face. His gaze immediately softened upon seeing you. You finished the brief couple of steps you had left and planted yourself right at his side. “Captain Rex, General Skywalker.” They both nodded at you, a hint of a smirk showing on Skywalker's face.

Relationships were forbidden within the GAR and certainly that of a clone trooper. They were meant as property and therefore weren’t allowed the same free will as others. But after a while you and Rex couldn’t stay away from each other. Your relationship remained a secret but that didn’t stop the rumors from going around the 501st. Most of the men actually encouraged you two to get together but to play it safe, you and Rex hadn’t officially mentioned it to anyone.

At this point you were sure Anakin knew though. Rex would deny telling you he spilled his guts to him, but they were close and recently the General had been giving you smug glances whenever he laid eyes on you. If Rex trusted him though, you guess you would have to as well. Rex was a smart man; he knew what he was doing.

You turned to the general and spoke, “Do you mind if I steal your Captain for a few words?”

“He’s all yours.” He winked at Rex which made you narrow your eyes at the both of them causing Rex to blush and rub the back of his neck, something he had a habit of doing when he was uncomfortable or nervous.

The General turned and started to walk away, once he was far enough out of hearing range you scanned to make sure no one else would be able to hear you before whispering, “Alright that’s it Captain he definitely knows something so you might as well spill your guts to me about spilling your guts to him,” you told him while crossing your arms.

“Okay fine I told him I’m sorry but General Skywalker is the one person I can always trust beside you. He wouldn’t tell a soul. And besides if he did I’d have some pretty rough dirt on him.” The last part he said under his breath and you were sure you weren’t supposed to hear it, hell it didn’t even make sense so you just brushed it off. He looked back up to you, “is that what you came here to talk to me about?”

You sighed and softened. “No, I just missed you.”

“I missed you too.” He went to raise a hand to your face but retreated it when he realized where you two still were, looking around to see if anyone had caught one. Fortunately, everyone else was either gone or fully immersed in whatever they were doing to care.

“How many days did the General say we had off?” you questioned. Rex was always the first of the men to know how long they’d be staying on world for.

“Not long, none of our ships have been fatally damaged and there were only a few serious injuries, so we have the rest of today and tomorrow, were stationed to be back on board at 2100 tomorrow night.”

You hummed in response. This didn’t warrant enough time for the two of you to settle on world for a while, but you didn’t take kindly to spending another night in the barracks.

“What have you got on that mind of yours?” Rex asked while raising an eyebrow in your direction.

“Well, I was just thinking about how I missed you, and we haven’t been able to spend some time together in a while...” you trailed off, pondering on your descions.

“Yes”

“And I've been saving up some credits for a while now, with nothing to spend it on…” you trailed off again making him raise his eyebrow at you for the second time in reaction. “And I'm tired of sleeping on that maker awful cot in the barracks.”

“Get to your point” he rolled his eyes amused

“How about we rent a hotel for the night? Just me and you? We’ll finally get some alone time.”

“You’ve already decided on this didn’t you?”

“I’ve missed you Rex, I just want some alone time where we don’t have to hide our relationship.”

He sighed. “I know cyar'ika, I know. Tell you what, I've got a few things I need to finish up here, but send me the location of the hotel and I’ll meet you there.”

“Okay” excitement started to bubble up in your stomach, finally a night in a warm comfy bed, with a fresher that had decent water pressure and Rex all to yourself.

Rex turned his head, looking around to make sure no one was paying attention before he leaned in and gave you a quick kiss. When he pulled away he winked at you and just like that he turned around and was walking off.

****

You’d decided to splurge on the hotel. You had plenty of credits, working as a medic in the GAR didn’t pay well but then again when did you ever have the time to spend it?

The hotel room was a dark blue, one side of the wall, opposite to the door was covered in glass windows, ceiling to floor with sheer ivory drapes hung throughout.

The bed was placed against the wall between the two doors, where Rex was currently fast asleep and had been from some time now.

You on the other hand stood beside one of the large drapes watching the late traffic speed by. After the events of the night occurred, Rex had fallen asleep peacefully but you were still restless. He had spent days on the battlefield while you simply cared for the couple of people still stuck in the med bay from the previous battle.

You let out a sigh, the lights of Coruscant were very entrancing, so much so that you hadn’t realized Rex had awoken from his sleep and groggily made his way over to you till his arm was wrapping around your waist and his head was leaning on your shoulder.

When you initially got up from bed, you put on your underwear and the top of Rex’s blacks, not finding your shirt, where ever it had landed when he first arrived, in the low-lit room. The shirt hung just below your waist and Rex took this as an opportunity to slide his hand up it. After behind touch starved for so long, he took every opportunity he could to feel skin on skin contact with you, and you certainly weren’t complaining.

He kissed your neck once and his thumb rubbed circles over your hip. “Come back to bed”

“mmmm convince me,” you smirked.

His grip on your waist tightened and he brought his other arm around to wrap around you as well and pull you closer to him, he placed a trail on slow, lazy kisses on your neck while he hummed, “please.”

“Ok, but only since you asked so nicely,” his grip on you loosened and you turned in his arms to look at him.

Sleep covered his face, he must not have gotten much on the way back here you thought. Skywalker’s battles seemed to cause a lot of paperwork.

You pecked him once on the lips and let him lead you back to bed. When you got under the covers and situated Rex came in behind you. But instead of lying beside you he decided to lay himself directly on top of you.

“What is this?” you chucked as he nuzzled his face into the crook of your neck.

“Don’t want you getting away from me this time,” he mumbled.

“I don’t really have a choice now do I?”

“Good, I sleep better with you.”

Hearing those words hurt a little. You let out a sigh and brought your hand up to rub his scalp at the top of his neck. He hummed into you. You and Rex barely got any alone time together, only a few nights like these out of a month were spent sleeping in each other’s arms, and to know most of the time he just didn’t sleep as well was hard to hear. Your mind stuck on the thought for a while but came to the conclusion that it was a useless debate, he was fighting a war, it was far more important than the two of you. Your mind slowly started to drift back to sleep.

#captain rex #captain rex x reader #star wars x reader #star wars #star wars the clone wars #Rex #ct 7567 #rex x reader #rex x you #captain rex x you #captain rex x y/n #the clone wars #the clone wars fic #star wars fanfic #im not good at tags so lets hope i got them all #whew

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dp-marvel94 · 3 years

Text

I am you (and you are me)

For Invisobang 2021. Art by @bibliophilea

On AO3 and Fanfiction.net

Summary: Set post Kindred Spirits. Something has been different since Danny came back from Vlad's and it started when the older half ghost had the tiny clone overshadow him. The half ghost remembers: His own screams. A pain in his inmost being, in his core. A tug back and forth. Being squeezed. A crash, a collision. And then... the blackness of death.

Danny comes back from the experience changed, with the memories of two lives stuffed in his head and new powers. The fire powers are pretty cool but shrinking, often involuntarily, makes him feel weak and vulnerable. All of it, the powers and memories, terrify him as he learns what they mean. And the thought of telling his loved ones...How can the half ghost hope that Jazz, Sam, and Tucker will understand and accept him now when he himself cannot?

Warnings and Tags: Self harm, Identity confusion, Self-Hatred, Ectoplasm and melting clones related gore, Clone Angst, Nightmares, Memory Issues, Involuntary Shrinking. Panic Attacks, Frostbite is Danny’s Icedad. Evil Vlad Masters, Bad Parent Vlad Masters, Split Danny, Ghost Catcher, Hurt/Comfort, Eventual acceptance (by Danny and by his loved ones). Sibling Bonding, Friendship, Danny finally gets a hug.

Note: Welcome to my Invisobang fic! This is a semi-sequel to my story "Nothing and Everything." It's set directly after that story, though assuming an alternative ending. It is not necessary to read the older story to understand this one. All you need to know is, it deals with the aftermath of Danny being overshadowed by one of the clone's in Kindred Spirits and the emotional impact of the experience.

All that being said, big thanks to my amazing artist @bibliophilea for the amazing comic, and for beta reading! Thanks to @welcome-tothe-mystery-shack for your comments and feedback on this story. And finally, a huge thanks to my dearest sister @nervousdragonrebelpie for looking over chapters and listening to me ramble about this story for the past few months. I wouldn’t have been able to finish this without you.

Preview Below:

Chapter 1:

“No! I’m a person. People have names! I have to have a name. I’m not….” A sob tried to break free from his throat.

A knock suddenly rattled the door. “Danny!” Mom called.

Both boy’s heads popped up, focusing on the door. They turned to face each other. “Don’t do this.” The real Danny begged.

“What?” The being asked.

“Every time you get close to the truth, you dream up a distraction.” His eyes widened in desperate panic. “Please don’t-”

Danny’s eyes popped open, a dream swirling in his mind. His heart raced, the sheets sticking to his sweaty body. His brow wrinkled, one shaking hand moving up to rub his aching head. Aching…. He still had that damn headache.

The boy closed his eyes, trying to push the pain away, to coax his heart rate down. He breathed. In and out. In and out. Slowly, so slowly, the throb in his head dimmed, his heart calming. But still, anxiety ate up his insides.

Blearily, the boy opened his eyes to stare at the ceiling. Dissatisfied, he groaned and rolled onto his side. He clenched and unclenched his fists, balling up the fabric on his bed. His bed. Yes, this was his bed…. Sleeping in a bed was so nice and comfortable but at the same time... something about it felt…. off.

The boy pinched his eyes closed, trying to make sense of the feeling. His stomach flopped. Something was off. Something was different. After today, after he’d come back from Vlad’s, after the man kidnapped him, after the man clo-

Danny cut off the cursed word, his mind refusing. He buried his face in his pillow. Vlad’s. Something had happened, something had.. had changed at Vlad’s but he couldn’t... quite... remember.

It flashed in images. Being locked in a pod. Electrocution. His own screams. Pain. A pain in his inmost being, in his core…. On the bed, Danny’s core throbbed at the thought… A tug back and forth. Then being squeezed. A crash, a collision. And then... blackness.

He’d passed out. Danny knew that much. And he’d woken up at some point later but everything between that and when he had arrived home was a blur.

Confusion. His head swimming. Danielle.. sister… frowning in worry. The hiss of the pod being released. A sigh of relief. An ectoblast. Twisted metal and glass. Ectoplasm. Ectoplasm on his hands, on the floor. Oh god, oh god. He hadn’t meant to do that. He wasn’t... the others weren’t supposed to…. weren't supposed to...

Vlad... Master... Vlad... glaring in pure hatred. “Get behind me.” His ears ringing with a scream. The older halfa being knocked into his shelves. His knees wobbling. He fell and turned human. (Human... why did the fact that he could do that make him so happy?) But then horror. Vlad was still up and moving.

Then Sam and Tucker crashed through, hitting the older man. Locking Vlad (Master) in a pod. He needs... he needs to find Danielle. He needs to find his baby sister. But she’s gone. She’s gone.

His friends’ worried faces. “Danny, you’re not making any sense.” “Hey! Hey! Stay with us!” He wobbled…. where was Danielle?..... falling forward….. Sam and Tucker caught him.

At some point later, he’d woken up on his bed with worried friends and sister who he couldn’t adequately comfort. His head had been pounding and he couldn’t remember what happened to him… and what he did remember made little sense. Sam had checked his eyes; he didn’t have a concussion or any other injuries. With his head throbbing, he’d dismissed the confusion as being from the stress of the kidnapping and electrocution. His friends believed him, though anxiety was plain on their faces. But after a few minutes, his friends had said their goodbyes, leaving him to get some much needed sleep.

But now, the night after, Danny laid on his bed. His headache was gone, his mind clearer. He should feel better yet... his heart was sinking like a stone in his chest. That dream. That dream. That was familiar. So familiar. Like it had really happened. Like... it meant something. And yet…. Danny yawned, sudden tiredness overtaking him. He closed his eyes.

Maybe this was the ramblings of a sleep deprived brain. Yeah, maybe he was just tired. Maybe he’d wake up in the morning and everything would be okay. The boy pulled his covers more tightly around himself and fell asleep.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The next morning, after quickly getting ready for school and rushing off, found Danny at his locker. The boy frowned, wracking his brain. What was his locker combination again? He spun the lock, landing on 25. That was the first number, right? Then….56. And finally….12? The lock clicked and he pulled the door open.

Danny sighed. Why was that so hard to remember? He’d had to open his locker just yesterday. He should remember… but why did that feel like a lifetime ago?

“Hey! Danny!” Tucker’s voice cut through his thoughts.

Danny gasped in surprise. In his chest, his core swelled and his body reflexively flickered invisible. A second later, he reappeared, rubbing his chest.

The next thing he knew, Sam was at his side. “What was that?”

“Yeah.” His technogeek friend took a step forward, voice quieting. “Your powers haven’t slipped up like that in months.”

Danny frowned, shaking his head. “I guess... I guess I’m still kinda shook up after….” He wrapped his arms around himself.

Sam’s face softened, seeming to understand. “Do you feel any better?” She asked kindly.

The halfa’s brow wrinkled. “Well, my headache’s gone.”

“You do look better.” The goth commented, her brow furrowing with worry. “You looked rough last night.”

“Yeah, you were really out of it too.” Tucker frowned. “You kept asking where someone called Danielle was? And for your sister?” Clear confusion rang out in his voice and just a hint of teasing…. “We kept telling you Jazz was at home, covering for us.” as if the idea that he was worried about his older sister, when she wasn’t even involved, was funny.

But something in the recollection made Danny shiver. He remembered worrying about Danielle. But…. sister... he hadn’t been talking about Jazz. He’d been asking about another girl, with blue eyes and-

“Then you passed out.” Sam continued. “And we took you home.”

For a too long moment, his friends looked at him questioningly. Finally, Danny bit his lip. “I think I remember that.”

The confirmation seemed to encourage his friends. “That’s good.” Said Tucker.

Danny wasn’t sure it was. But he had no more time to think on it before the bell rang and they were walking to their first class.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

During lunch period, Danny sat down at their familiar table, the same one as yesterday and every day since the start of freshman year. He placed down his tray and looked over the tables, waiting for Sam and Tucker to join him.

The boy’s brow furrowed. The cafeteria looked the same as every day. The same as yesterday when…. Danielle phasing through the table, a tiny green speck racing passed him…. At the lunch table, Danny’s core pulsed anxiously. Yes, that had happened but at the same time…. Looking back at the two chasing him. Laughing without sound at their fun game.

Danny shivered, feeling cold. He rubbed his chest, nervously.

“Danny?” Someone was waving a hand in front of his face. “Danny? You with us man?”

The halfa blinked and turned, meeting Tucker’s eyes. “Yeah. What’s up?”

“What’s with the spaciness?” Sam said bluntly. She stabbed at her salad. “You were like that all during English too.”

“Was I?” The boy questioned. He shook his head. “Sorry. Just... thinking about stuff.”

His friends gave him worried looks but didn’t question him. Frankly, it was to Danny’s relief. He couldn’t seem to put his thoughts in order. He couldn’t explain this... weird feeling.

The friends chatted for most of the lunch period, Sam and Tucker dominating the conversation with a debate about the newest Doomed update.

All the while Danny idly rubbed at his chest with one hand. He picked at his cheese fries. Normally they were pretty good, but he wasn’t feeling it today. He shivered again, flinching as his fork fell through his intangible hand.

“Again?” Tucker questioned with a raised brow.

Danny didn’t respond, instead picking up his fork only for his core to flare and the utensil to fall through his fingers again. With an annoyed grumble, the boy rubbed his chest again.

“Do you think something’s up with your powers?” Sam quietly asked.

The halfa looked up, frowning. “No... I mean…”

The goth pointed. “Danny, you keep rubbing your chest.”

Danny looked down, brow furrowing. Below his palm, his core pulsed. There was something… strange about the rhythm and…. he adjusted the position, pressing just the smallest bit harder. Normally, it fit comfortably under his palm but now... “It’s... bigger?” He muttered.

“What?” Tucker asked.

Danny lowered his hand. “My core?” He shook his head. “No... I’m imagining it.” His core pulsed unhappily, even as he rubbed his forehead. “I’m just tired, I guess.”

Sam and Tucker again looked like they wanted to argue, but the bell rang and they split up, each hurrying to their next class.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The rest of the school day was surprisingly normal. Just his typical classes, without even a ghost fight to interrupt his day. Danny should have felt relieved for such a chill day after what happened last night but yet…. The boy tapped his pencil on his desk. He felt anxious. He must still be shook up, like he told his friends this morning.

Danny bit his lip, shaking the writing instrument in his hand again. It went flying out of his grip and clattered onto the floor. The boy huffed as he bent down to grab it. His hand hadn’t even turned intangible this time.

With that, the boy straightened in his seat. He glanced at the clock. 20 more minutes left in class. Just 20 minutes. Then he could go home and take a nap. He rubbed his eyes. He was still tired after getting back so late. Maybe some sleep would help him feel better.

Soon enough, the bell rang. Danny stood and walked to his locker. This time, he remembered the combination without wracking his brain. He pulled out his books and turned to his friends, who were collecting their own belongings.

“I’ll see you guys tomorrow.” Danny said.

“Yeah, see you later.” Tucker replied.

“Call us if something comes up with the ghosts.” Sam frowned. “I’m grounded but…. I’ll sneak out if you need me.”

The technogeek groaned. “Don’t remind me. I’m grounded too.”

The halfa looked down guiltily. “Sorry.” He bit his lip. “You guys shouldn’t be grounded because you had to save my sorry butt.”

“It’s fine.” Sam comforted. “We weren’t not going to save you. We’re your friends.”

“Yeah.” Tucker agreed. “It’s just the price to pay for being superheroes.”

Danny half-smiled, though he didn’t much feel like it. He wasn’t much of a hero. Guilt still choked his heart. He hated getting his friends in trouble. But still…. “Thanks for having my back.”

“No problem.” Tucker confirmed.

Then down the hall, someone called his name. “Danny?”

The boy turned. It was his sister, Jazz. He frowned. Oh right, he hadn’t talked to her since he’d been half out of it last night.

The girl quickly approached. “There you are. Come on. I’m driving you home.”

Jazz didn’t give him a choice as she started leading him towards the entrance. Danny waved at his friends, watching their worried faces until he turned the corner.

Less than two minutes later, the pair were seated in Jazz’s car. The girl didn’t start the vehicle, instead turning to face her brother. “Are you going to tell me what happened yesterday?”

“I... Uh…” Danny stuttered, trying to collect his thoughts.

“You disappeared during the middle of school. Sam and Tucker said some weird ghost girl showed up. You went off to fight some ghost and the next thing they knew, Vlad was carrying you away.”

The boy crossed his arms. “It sounds like you already know what happened.” He muttered.

Jazz pinned a serious look. “I know Vlad kidnapped you but…. what did he do to you?”

Danny paled. “I don’t know what you mean.”

“Something happened. You were unconscious when Sam and Tucker got back. And you were super out of it when you woke up. But you weren’t physically hurt. What did Vlad do to you?” His sister pushed.

Danny swallowed, his stomach flopping. “I... I don’t…. It’s fuzzy….”

Jazz rose a brow, her tone suggesting she knew there was more to it. “Danny.”

The boy flinched. “I... he... Vlad electrocuted me?” He remembered. Being locked in a pod, electricity running through him. The creepy hologram of his mom. But... but... there was more.

His sister paled. “Oh... I’m so sorry.” Her voice softened and she didn’t say anything for a while, then… “Do you know why he did that?”

Danny stiffened, looking up. The reason sparked in his mind, with the image. Vlad hissing in front of him, boasting his plan. The man had explained but…. the words stayed just out of reach. Danny's face set in a pointed frown. He shook his head.

Jazz’s own frown deepened. “That little girl…. Sam and Tucker said she looked just like you in ghost form. What does she have to do with all this?”

The boy avoided her eyes, heart fluttering nervously. The little girl.... her face snapped into focus in his mind. Danielle, that was her name. But... there was another word. Started with an S or…. a C. She was like him; she was a clo-

Danny shook his head. No, that wasn’t right. Well…. part of it was right. Danielle had been there. She’d been helping Vlad. She helped the man hurt him; painful betrayal stabbed at him from the thought. But at the same time…

“She helped me. She helped me fight Vlad.” The half ghost said quietly, awed realization sparking as he remembered.

“But… who was she?” Jazz asked, equally quietly.

Just like that, the boy paled again. The word, the cursed word, formed in his mind without his permission. Clone. She was a clone of…. him?... No... that didn’t sound right... he was the same as her but... it had to be true. His frown deepened.

“Who was she?” His older sister asked again.

The boy shivered. “I... I don’t want to talk about it.”

“Danny.” Her voice softened. “You can tell me. It’s-”

“I... I can’t... I don’t wanna talk about it.” He focused on his hands in his lap, trying to keep them from shaking.

“Clearly, whatever happened is bothering you. You can tell me.”

“No. I-” Danny bit his lip, reaching for the door. He couldn’t stay in here with her, couldn’t deal with the questions he had no answers for or rather... questions he couldn’t bear to answer. The… the c word... he couldn’t say it, could barely think it. How could he explain how everything felt wrong, like he wasn’t actually-

“Wait.” Jazz cut off his thoughts. “You don’t have to talk until you’re ready. Just... let me drive you home.”

The boy lowered his hand and slumped back in his seat. “You... you promise? You won’t press?”

His sister’s brow furrowed. Her face was tight, like she didn’t want to agree; but after a long moment, she sighed. “Alright. I promise.”

Danny nodded. “Let’s go then.”

Jazz turned the car on, put it into drive, and pulled out of the parking lot. They drove home in silence. Once they arrived, the boy went straight up to his room. He rubbed his head, flopping down onto his bed. He needed... he needed a nap. Yeah…. That was it. He was still tired.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Sister smiled down at him. “Look at this!” The black haired girl held up her crayon drawing. “This is me.” She pointed. “And Muscles. And Bones. And Daniel.” Her smile widened as she tapped at the last figure. “And this is you.”

The being tilted his head. He floated up, placing small hands on the green figure on the paper. He blinked owlishly up at the girl.

The corner of the girl's mouth turned down. She placed down the paper and offered him a crayon. “Come on. You try.”

The tiny being hovered forward, reaching out to touch the crayon. It was so big, almost half as tall as he was. He frowned, trying to understand.

“Make yourself a little bigger and you’ll be able to hold it.” She encouraged. “Come on. You can do it.”

The being scrunched his brow and he stretched. He was about the size of a toddler, maybe two and a half feet tall. He reached out, grabbing the crayon with his slightly larger hands.

“Great.” Sister said. She pushed a fresh piece of paper in front of him. “Now you draw. Like this.” She demonstrated, rubbing the crayon against the paper so color transferred onto it.

The being flopped down, sitting on the floor. Slowly, so slowly, he copied the girl. He traced his drawing instrument over the paper. He scribbled, creating a mess of lines and shapes without meaning or purpose.

Sister smiled proudly anyway. “You’re doing it. Good job, Tiny.”

He beamed, something in him sparking at the praise. He continued scribbling but the image changed into something more purposeful. A house took shape, stick figures. A large man and slimmer woman. A little girl and a little boy.

The little boy giggled at his drawing. His hands were chubbier than before. A toddler’s, instead of the miniaturized version of a teen’s.

“Jazzy!” He looked up, showing off his drawing to the little redhead girl.

His older sister looked up. “That looks great, Danny!” She put her own crayons down, rubbing her sweaty forehead. “It’s so hot.”

The boy suddenly dropped his crayons and drawing. “Outside! Let’s go outside!”

“But it’s hot.” The girl repeated.

The boy was already running off. “Mommy! Mommy! Can we play in the sprinklers?! Please! Please!”

Mommy turned around from where she was making lunch. “After we eat, okay?”

“Okay!” The four year old beamed, already running up the stairs to get his swim trunks.

The next thing he knew, he was outside. Mommy set up the sprinkler. He and Jazzy ran around it, giggling. Daddy came outside with water balloons and Danny let out a happy scream. “Water balloons!”

The little boy grabbed one and threw it at his sister.

Danny blinked awake to bright light on his face. His nose wrinkled. It was still light out? Oh wait, he had been taking a nap. He sat up, yawning and rubbing his forehead. He’d been dreaming again, this time about…. He shivered, remembering. He’d been playing in the back yard with Jazz when he was four. And... he’d been with Danielle. She’d been showing him how to draw.

The boy’s stomach flopped. That didn’t make sense. That hadn’t happened. Maybe... maybe he was thinking about her because Jazz had asked, earlier, when they’d been in the car but... that had felt like a memory.

Dread balled in his gut. He’d been small, smaller than her hand. And then he’d stretched and he was bigger, about the size of a toddler. Danny looked down at his hands, his human, properly sized hands. That, changing his size, wasn’t something he could do but…. In the dream, Danielle had called him Tiny. It didn’t make sense and yet….

He remembered. One of the other clones. The small green one. Danny shivered. That one, that one could shrink. That clone had overshadowed him.

The knowledge hit Danny like a ton of bricks. The tiny clone had overshadowed him. How... how didn’t he remember that until just now? How hadn’t he realized? Danny grimaced, a sickening feeling squeezing his insides. He’d been possessed. Someone else had been in his body, controlling his actions, messing with his mind. The boy wrapped his arms around himself. He felt violated at the thought. That was so wrong. Vlad had ordered one of his clones to overshadow him. And…. more memories of the experience pressed into his mind.

Danny had been semi-aware of the other presence. There had been a fight for control, another core so close to his and…. Memories, thoughts that weren’t his. Flashes of the tiny clone’s memories. And the feeling of tiny hands rifling through his own mind.

Danny pulled his knees to his chest. That must be why he’s felt so off. It was the aftereffects of being possessed. And that dream, the flashes of memory…. he must be remembering what he’d seen and felt from the tiny clone while it had been possessing him.

The boy sighed. But... the feeling would go away eventually, right? It would. He’d felt off after Sidney had overshadowed him as well. It had taken a bit to get used to being in his own body again. And Sidney was more experienced with overshadowing than his clone had been. The ghostly nerd knew how to push Danny’s spirit out of his body, instead of forcing both ghosts to cohabitate. That was why there were strange memories now, unlike last time.

But it didn’t matter. He’d get back to normal soon enough and his friends and sister would have nothing to worry about. Everything would be okay, right?

Danny stood up, rolling his shoulders to stretch. He had homework to do. He sat down at his desk, trying to ignore the way his stomach still flopped.

#Danny Phantom #invisobang #Invisobang 2021 #Big Bang 2021 #my fic #clone angst #Danny clone #tw selfhate #tw selfharm

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cycat4077 · 2 years

Note

I feel like I’m the only one who can’t stand Rollisi as a romantic couple-pairing-relationship? Friends I understand but them suddenly getting together doesn’t make sense, and it is as if the writers just threw it together haphazardly. They just don’t go together as a couple but whenever I say this I’m ridiculed and attacked as being jealous, being a bully, nasty, and that they are endgame gonna get married have babies?????????? I mean it’s crazy stupidity.

Hello :3

I didn't get to watch last night's episode (Feb 24th) yet, so I dunno if this ask is related to that episode or not...

But so far, I have to kindly disagree. If you go back through my blog, you'll see a meriad of posts where I'm either loving the Rollisi moments or really mad at them...

I didn't watch most of SVU as it aired. I saw a re-run where Amanda was pregnant with Billie and Sonny was there in the hospital before Al barged in. That's the moment where I was like: "who is that man? I don't know who he is, but he's kind and caring and possibly in love with Blondie." So, I went back and did a rewatch, starting with the first episode where Sonny is introduced. I knew what he would become, so I didn't have the same feelings as others who watched the shows as they aired. I loved him and loved him even more as the series progressed. BUT I did go through the ebb and flow of the Rollisi moments.

It has always been clear to me that Sonny cared A LOT about Amanda. He has always been there for her. That's who he is. And from a first-time viewers' perspective and someone who has always been Team-Sonny's-Happiness, it appeared as though Amanda was using him. This pissed me off because I felt fiercely protective over him. However, and especially last season where Amanda got kidnapped, I realized that Amanda is more complex than I gave her credit for. She has a lot of inner demons and a lot of self-worth issues. This means she puts up a front and keeps everyone at bay.

But here's the thing: I CAN see it now, that Sonny makes her happy and she makes Sonny happy. She's grown quite a bit over the last season and I can appreciate that Sonny has helped her realize that worth too. So now, if they are together and they are both happy, I don't see anything wrong with it. After all, like I said, I've always been Team-Sonny's-Happiness.

I also think that the writers HAVE been setting them up for a while. That friendship and mutual caring has been there, but the main factor in why it took so long was that it's not a romance show. It's a crime drama and (rightfully so) the crime stories take center stage with the personal and romantic lives taking a back seat. This is a whole other debate, but I think it's a major factor in the show's longevity. Another factor is that Amanda wasn't ready for it. She's not a character who wants to be "fixed by a man" and she needed to come to the realization of what/who she had on her own.

Now, I'm also sorry if you feel harrassed by other fans for your opinions. Everyone is entitled to agreeing and disagreeing with how a show is written. What's NOT okay, is the intimidation that comes along with differences of opinions. I've seen both sides of the SVU fandom: the lovely, supportive people who build others up and enjoy sharing things about the show, but also there are people who are absolute bullies, putting others down for having an opinion. I've also seen both extremes of the Rollisi debate: the people who hate it and thus make everyone's life miserable for thinking otherwise BUT ALSO the extreme Rollisi "fans" who are capable of making those who disagree feel terrible. As soon as you start bullying others for their opinions, then you're not a fan. Period.

Ultimately, though, we have no say in how a show is written. As much as we love certain characters, they are not ours. They are the ideas and a labor of love of the show writers. What they choose to do with them is their decision and perhaps something they have always wanted for the characters they write.

We do have a few choices on this though! I mean no disrespect at all but these choices are:

1) If we really do not like what the show/characters have become, then we can stop watching. This is the viewer's voice. If people stop watching, this reflects in the ratings and the writers will be forced to rethink their choices to improve the show.

2) If the characters/plot decisions don't really make too much of a difference in our lives, we can still watch and enjoy the crime drama-aspect of the show! After all, this is the true heart of the series.

3) Fanfic! This is why people write! There are fix-it-fics or AUs where things are different and suit our own personal needs/wants from characters and shows/movies. :)

Again, I mean no disrespect to you through this answer, Nonnie and I'm sorry that you've ever felt ridiculed. Sometimes, the best fix is to ignore certain posts/tweets/people who introduce this negativity into the fandom and into your online experience.

I hope my blog can be a safe space for everyone! I know I've voiced my opinions on various Rollisi things in the past, but I hope that people can view them as just that: opinions.

#anonymous #an ask! in my ask box #rollisi #law and order svu

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peterparkers-bad-youtube-apology · 3 years

Text

The Angel Nextdoor

Pairing: Artist!Tom Holland x Reader

A/N: This is the first Tom fic I’ve ever posted and I’m a little nervous, but I’m really proud of it. I hope you guys really like it, I’d love to hear your feedback. Now, this is my Valentine’s day special, and I know what you’re thinking, “Ashley, how can you post a Valentine’s say special on February 15th? It doesn’t make any sense.”. But to that I say, you’ve just never seen this kind of innovation, I’m an artist and I have to take risks like this sometimes. I hope you can understand, love you all xx

Summary: Tom’s latest assignment might just give him the push he needs to finally confess his feelings.

Masterlist

Promt list

“This is the handout for your final, we’re going to talk about it more next class, but for now just look this over and start brainstorming,” Ms. Miller passed a stack of papers down the row with a smile, “You’ll have a full month to work on it so I expect really polished pieces for this.”

Tom glanced over the requirements before settling at the prompt.

‘Paint someone close to you (friend, family member, significant other, ect…) in the style of their favorite artist or painting.’

It seemed simple enough, and he could think of a handful of people to ask. Definitely not family, he didn’t want to travel home and back that frequently. He could ask Harrison, and he was sure he would say yes, but there was one person who really stuck out in his mind. It was (y/n) of course, who better to paint than the most beautiful person in the world? And could anyone really expect an artist like him not to want to paint the object of her affection? Of course actually doing it was a different story. Asking her to let him paint her was a daunting task, one Tom was sure he couldn’t complete. So he was going to paint Harrison.

“Try to come to class with a narrowed down list of who you may end up painting, you’ll need to know for sure by Friday,” Ms. Miller sighed as the class began packing up, “I’ll see you all on Wednesday.”

Tom shoved everything in his bag and went straight for the dinning hall, where he was supposed to meet Harrison and (y/n) for lunch. He debated again trying to ask her, but quickly shoved the thought from his mind. She had inspired his work before certainly, it was inevitable that she’d inspire him, or her image would wander to his mind when he was working, but he had never painted her. Of course he wanted to paint her directly, but it was intimate, it always felt wrong to do without her permission. Just asking to paint her surely would have revealed his feelings too, something he wanted to do on his own terms, when he was ready, with concrete proof that she liked him back and he wouldn’t embarrass himself.

“That’s not a happy face,” Harrison hummed as Tom sat down in front of him, “Bad grade or something?”

“No, we just got our final already,” he sighed, letting his bag fall besides him.

“Already?”

He nodded, “Yeah, she wants it to be really polished.”

“Does it seem really hard?”

“It’s nothing I can’t do, I’m gonna need your help though.”

“I’m sorry, you’ve seen me paint before right?”

Tom rolled his eyes, “Obviously not with that. I’m just supposed to paint someone close to me and I don’t want to drive home every other day so I was gonna ask if I could paint you.”

Harrison knit his brow in confusion, “Why wouldn’t you ask (y/n)?”

Tom flushed, “Absolutely not.”

“Why not? You two would get to spend a lot of time together, alone. Isn’t that what you want?”

“Yes, and I’d like to paint her, but it’s so intimate. I want to be the one to tell her I like her, not a painting. Plus she could say no and then I’d never be able to show my face in public again.”

“There is no way she would say no,” Harrison rolled her eyes, “Just ask her, she’d be happy to help and you might just finally see that she’s into you. Then I can stop watching you two pine over one another.”

“No, just drop it,” Tom ordered, spotting (y/n) approaching their table, “Don’t say anything to her.”

“Hey boys,” she smiled as she sat besides Tom, “How were classes?”

“Mine were fine, Tom’s already getting his finals though.”

Tom shot him a glare while she sighed, “That’s brutal, I’m sorry Tom.”

“I’ll survive,” he hummed, “It’s not anything too rough.”

“What is it?” she asked curiously.

“Just painting someone I know,” his cheeks dusted pink, “Nothing too hard.”

“Too bad I can’t help you out with it more,” Harrison bit his cheek, “Maybe (y/n) could pose for you.”

Tom decided he’d have to push Harrison out their dorm window when they got home.

“Oh yeah, I don’t mind,” she smiled kindly to him.

“It’s okay, it’s probably going to take me awhile and I know you’re busy, I can just ask one of my brothers,” he insisted.

“And drive home every other day? That’s ridiculous, I’ll just do it.”

Tom sucked in a deep breath, trying to decide quickly what the right decision to make was. But he was a painter, he couldn’t give up the chance to paint something so perfect in good conscience, and he didn’t really want to say no either.

“Thanks, I really appreciate it,” he smiled to her.

“No problem. So what do I need to do?”

“I’m supposed to paint you in the style of your favorite artist, or painting.”

“Well…” she tapped her lip thoughtfully, “Oh, they guy that painted those little cupids, and he did that Birth of Venus you showed me with all the cupids in it, I really liked his stuff. What was his name again?”

“William-Adolphe Bouguereau,” Tom pursed his lips, “I could do that, it’s not too far off from what I like to do anyway.”

“Cool, I guess I should start practicing my poses then?”

He chuckled, “No, we’ll just do something comfortable for you,” he bit the inside of his cheek, “There’s a bit of planning to do first, like what you’re gonna wear and the colors I’m gonna use, and sketching, I’ll just need a few days.”

“Well why don’t you come over and we can raid my closet? Maybe I can help with some of the other stuff too.”

Harrison was smiling like a proud dad when Tom glanced over at him, “Um, yeah, that would be good, I could come over after class Wednesday?”

“It’s a date.”

“I laid out some clothes already,” (y/n) smiled to Tom as she led him to her room, “I mean you’ll know better than me, but I tried to pick some things I thought would paint well.”

“Thanks, I was thinking something really simple would be best,” he began examining the clothes on her bed, smiling when he spotted the same white, babydoll dress she liked to wear whenever it got hot, “How about this one? It has that sort of angelic feel.”

She picked up the dress and held it against her, “It’s the comfiest too.”

He laughed, “Well that one for sure then. Next would be location, and I know you really like L'Amour et Psyché, enfants, so I thought it would be nice to have you sitting on a cloud to reference that.”

“Whatever you think is best Tom, you’re the artist,” she hummed, “I think that sounds nice though.”

“I think we’ll do that then. Do you want to toss the dress on so we can run through some poses?”

She nodded and Tom stepped outside, allowing her a moment to change. He’d thought about the painting all night, sketching out different poses and swatching colors he wanted to try. The anger he’d felt towards Harrison at lunch had faded almost instantly to excitement. He’d hung out with her a million times before, but he usually let his nerves get the best of him if things started getting flirty. Painting always relaxed him though, and he was sure that he would be able to make his feelings known once he was behind the canvas.

Of course, unbeknownst to Tom, her feelings were quite similar. Tom was handsome, of course, and funny and kind, and she got along with him better than anyone else. She had never felt the way she felt for him with anyone else, but flirting was hard. She always got nervous and backed off, there was just too much at risk. She didn’t know if Tom felt the same way, and she didn’t want to risk damaging their relationship by telling him she was into him. Of course she was happy just to help Tom for the class, but she thought it was a good chance to tread the waters.

“Ready,” (y/n) smiled as she left her room, “Where do you want me boss?”

“The couch is fine,” he was holding his sketchbook now, holding it firm against his chest, “If you could sit kind of sideways and put your arms on the back of the couch.”

She sat as he told her, glancing over her shoulder at him, “Like this?”

“That’s really nice, very reminiscent of the original…” he glanced down at his sketchbook, “Are you comfortable?”

“It’s a little awkward,” she admitted.

“Then it’s a no. How about with your hands in front of you, just resting.”

“This is better,” she smiled as she switched positions, “But if you want me the other way I don’t mind.”

“I just want you to be comfortable,” he assured before glancing back at the sketchbook, “Why don’t you try on your stomach, with your arms under your head.”

She giggled as she moved, kicking her legs like a child, “This is like the fifth grade slumber party position. I feel like we’re gonna play truth or dare.”

He rolled his eyes, “You’re never going to break into the modeling industry if you mess around like that.”

“You’re lucky I’m not a model or I’d be charging,” she stuck her tongue out before laying her head on her hands, “Is this right?”

“Almost, just cross your arms like this,” he set her arms in the position he wanted before stepping away again, “Are you comfy like that?”

“Yeah, I could sleep like this.”

“Good, there’s just one other pose I wanted to try. Could you roll over?”

She flipped to her back and set her hands over her stomach, “Do I look like an angel now?”

“Almost,” he moved one of his arms, extending it above her head and leaving the other over her stomach, “Perfect,” he declared, looking her over with a smile, “Very angelic.”

Her cheeks dusted pink and she bit down on her cheek, “Thanks.”

“I think this is the one,” he scribbled a few things in his sketchbook, “What do you think?”

"I could lay here all day."

“Perfect, can you stay there for a few so I can sketch you?”

She nodded, drumming her fingers along her stomach, "Did you get a better explanation of the project today?"

"Yeah, she said our grade is going to be focused on the emotion of the piece since we're painting someone close to us. She wants us to focus on portraying them how we see them."

"How are you gonna portray me then?" she blushed as she questioned him.

"An angel," he spoke without thinking, his cheeks flushing instantly, "Not with wings or anything, just sort of what I'm going for."

She was sure her face was about to catch on fire, "You don't have to do that, I mean I like the angel paintings, but you should portray me how you see me."

"I am, it just happened to fit with what you like," he tried his best to conceal his face behind his sketchbook as he spoke, "You're really sweet, and you always make everyone around you really happy, I think an angel is fitting."

“I think you’re like that,” she met his eyes, just barely peeking over the edge of his sketchbook, “You always make me happy.”

“I’m really glad I do,” he bit the inside of his cheek nervously, “I think I’ve got everything I need for today, I’ll do some thumbnailing tonight and go pick up some supplies.”

“Cool,” she sat back up, twirling some of her hair nervously, “So when do you want to start?”

“You have that essay right? Why don’t we do Saturday? I don’t want to take up a bunch of your time.”

“That’s sweet but I’m gonna procrastinate no matter what,” she giggled, “Saturday is good though, then we’d have all day to work.”

“I’ll be over at ten then,” he closed his sketchbook before shoving is back into his bag, “If you really want to procrastinate you could come to the store with me. I mean I have to make sure I can match your skin and hair and everything…”

“Well sure, but if you want even more of my very valuable time I at least expect you to buy me some tea.”

He laughed, “Fine, fine, we’ll stop for tea.”

Day 1

Tom was surprised by how awake (y/n) was when he arrived, she was never much of a morning person. When he showed up she had brewed some tea for them both and was already wearing the white dress they’d agreed upon. Tom had drawn about a thousand thumbnails before finally deciding on exactly what he wanted the painting to look like. He decided he’d start on it Friday night, figuring it would be good to get most of the background out of the way so he could focus on painting her while they were together. She gushed over how good the painting already looked, telling him they were the most perfect clouds she’d ever seen while he set up his work station. She was always hyping him up, he appreciated it, even though he was nervous to get started.

“You ready?” he asked finally.

She nodded, “Yeah,” she sat down, doing her best to mimic the pose she had earlier in the week, “Am I good?”

Tom nodded, “Perfect.”

“Awesome, I won’t move a muscle.”

He chuckled, “You can move. Just not too much,” he sighed, picking up his palette and taking one more moment to stare at his canvas, “Okay, time to start.”

(y/n) watched him quietly at first, watching the cute way he stuck out his tongue when he concentrated. She had never seen him paint, the occasional sketch sure, but with painting she’d only even seen finished pieces. They were always amazing, but she felt like getting to see the work in progress was something special. Most people never got to meet someone as passionate or as talented as Tom, let alone get to be the subject of their work.

“Do you mind if I draw the curtains?” Tom broke her trance.

“It’s your painting.”

He laughed, “No, I mean open them. Why on earth would I add a window to a painting of you in the sky?”

“I don’t know how your artist brain works, maybe you think clouds have windows,” she laughed in response, “Go ahead, I thought you wouldn’t want the lighting changing all day.”

“Well I’m going to paint the light source where I want it to be,” he explained as he stood, “But I want to make sure I’m painting you how you’d look in more natural light. Maybe angels have windows, but I’m nearly certain they don’t have iridescent light bulbs.”

“You seriously think heaven has fluorescent lighting?”

“I think they use the sun,” he deadpanned, though a smirk tempted the corners of his mouth, “You can turn on the tv or something.”

“That’s okay, I like watching you.”

He furrowed his brow in confusion, “Why? I’m just staring at a canvas.”

“I don’t know,” she shrugged, “It’s something you're passionate about, it’s cute watching you get in the zone.”

“Oh,” he blushed and turned his attention back to his work, “Thanks. I’ll be more talkative once I get a little further along, I just really like to concentrate in the beginning.”

“It’s fine,” she assured again, “I’m not bored Tom, I don’t mind a bit of quiet time.”

“Okay.”

Truthfully he didn’t mind it either, at least when he was with her. He just liked being in the same room together, even if they were just studying or watching a movie, it was nice to just be together.

Day 2

“Would you mind if I came over after class tomorrow?” Tom questioned, breaking (y/n)’s attention from the tv.

“That’s fine by me,” she smiled to him, “It’s not like I usually have plans with anyone else on a Monday afternoon.”

“Yeah, no one else can stand you,” he chuckled while she feigned offense.

“You know I could be charging you for this? I’m doing this for free out of the goodness of my heart.”

“You think I have money? I’m a starving artist darling, free is all I can afford.”

“You better be nice then,” she teased with a smile.

“I’m cooking you lunch aren’t I?” he sighed before setting his paints down, “Speaking of which, I think I’m ready for a lunch break.”

“Me too,” she rubbed her stomach, “Break time?”

He nodded, “Yeah, you still want pasta?”

“You know I do,” she winked as she stood up, stretching her arms up above her head, “Can I peak?”

He nodded, “It still doesn’t look like much, but I’m making good progress.”

She bounced over to the painting, smiling ear to ear as she took in all he had done, “It looks more and more amazing every time I see it. This is amazing Tom, seriously it looks so good already.”

He smiled, blushing at the praise, “Thanks, I think it’s coming along really well.”

Day 3

Tom was making much quicker progress than he had expected, he just found it very easy to find his rhythm every time they sat down to work. Part of it was her, part of it was the subject matter, also her. He was pretty sure all the hours he’d previously spent staring at her had something to do with it too. So far he was proud of his work, though he was sure it wouldn’t have been possible for a painting of her to look bad anyway. When he sat down to paint her he didn’t have to think about it much, just paint, it came very natural. It just felt naturally to immortalize someone like her, but the talking helped the most. Normally he painted alone and he’d wear himself out or hit some kind of wall and be forced to stop, but he hadn’t had that problem since working with her. It was like his hands moved on their own while he just hung out with his best friend. It was just easy...

“Tom?”

“Yeah?”

“How do you stay so clean when you paint?”

“I figured it out around the same time I stopped fingerpainting.”

She laughed, “Okay well when I try to paint I still get at least some paint on my hands and arms and stuff, you never get paint anywhere.”

“This is the third time you’ve seen me paint, I’ve gotten messy plenty of times but I’m trying really hard not to get paint all over your house.”

“Have you ever painted a girl?” she giggled, “Her body I mean, like gotten naked and painted on each other?”

He flushed suddenly, “No, have you?”

“No, but it would be fun wouldn’t it?”

“It would be cold,” he pursed his lips, he was well hidden by the canvas, so he had a lot more confidence in his ability to be cheeky, “We can take a break if you want to try it out.”

She went quiet for a moment, Tom thought he might have to throw himself out of her window but when he looked at her her cheeks were just as red, and she decided to press on, “What would you paint?”

“Depends where I’m painting.”

She bit her bottom lip, a playful smile overtaking her despite her pink cheeks, “Well I would paint a grid and play tic tac toe on your abs.”

She burst into laughter at her own awful joke and Tom did his best to fight off his own laughter, “That was not funny.”

“Yes it was that’s hilarious!” she kept laughing, clenching her stomach and rolling onto her side, only to find there was no room and roll onto the floor with a thud, “Ow.”

Tom started laughing, “You deserve that for making such a shit joke.”

“Fuck off,” she groaned.

Day 4

“Do you ever get lonely living here all alone?” Tom knit his brow as he tried to perfect her nose.

She nodded, “Sometimes, but I don’t really want a roommate you know? I need a boyfriend or something so I can just call him over when I decide I want someone to spend the night.”

“You could call me,” Tom didn’t dare peek out from behind the canvas after that comment, “I wouldn’t mind if you wanted me to spend the night sometimes.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, we could even build a pillow fort and play truth or dare.”

She laughed lightly, “Well who could pass up an offer like that?”

Day 5

Rather than painting the whole night, Tom and (y/n) had decided to get some studying done, putting them at a much later start when they eventually did get to the painting. (y/n) seemed tired, and Tom had told her they could skip the night, especially since he was making such good progress already, but she had insisted she was fine. So they started working, and (y/n) watched tv, half away while Tom started working. The painting was coming along amazing, and Tom had planned to just get some of the more tedious, detailing work done and let her get to bed, but of course once he actually started working it was a different story. He had quickly gotten wrapped up in his work, not stopping until the noise of the tv stopped, the screen flashing to ask if anyone was still watching.

“Sorry, I was just getting in the zone I-” Tom stopped mid sentence, spotting her already passed out on the couch. Her head was tossed to the side and one of her arms hung off the couch. The sight was endearing, but Tom felt bad about not noticing, “Oh dear,” he set his pallet down and stood up, flicking the tv off before approaching her, “Well come on darling, let’s get you to bed,” he nudged her lightly, “(y/n), time to wake up.”

She stirred slightly, a small groan leaving her lips before her eyes peaked open, “Tommy?”

He nodded, a small smile on his lips, “I would have carried you, but you’ve got to lock up behind me.”

She yawned, “Sorry, I’ll stay awake Tom, you can keep working.”

“You’re exhausted sweetheart, you need to get some sleep,” he smiled, setting a hand on her cheek carefully, “I got a lot done today anyway, promise.”

“Okay,” she yawned again before taking his hand, “I’ll help you clean up.”

“I’ll take care of it, why don’t you go get ready for bed?”

She nodded again, pushing herself up sleepily and padding off to her bedroom. Tom smiled to himself while he cleaned up, thinking about how nice it would have been to carry her off and tuck her in, or better yet fall asleep besides her. He could only hope he’d get there one day, if he could ever force out his feelings. It was seeming more and more possible everyday. Just as he’d suspected, hiding behind the canvas had made it much easier to flip the conversation to something flirty, and much to his delight, she didn’t seem to mind, if anything she flirted back.

“Looks good,” (y/n) hummed as she glanced over the painting, “Tomorrow we should be able to start early.”

“Thank you, honestly at this rate I’ll only need a few more days.”

“That’s awesome Tommy, I can’t wait to see it all done.”

“Me too,” he tossed an arm over her shoulder with a smile, “Come see me out.”

“I am, I am,” she smiled as he led her to the door, “Drive safe.”

“I will, get some sleep darling,” he kissed the top of her head before heading for the car.

Day 6

The doorbell made Tom jump, and nearly swipe a black line through one of her eyes, “Fucking hell,” he swore under his breath,

She giggles, “It’s just the pizza Tom,” she jumped off the couch, heading straight for the door, “Which means stop working busy bee we’ve got a pizza to devour!”

He pushed himself up with a sigh, “I’m in the homestretch here, I just need to push through.”

“No, you need to nourish your body and keep your mind sharp,” she winked to him as she opened the door accepting the pizza with a quick thank you.

“Smells delicious,” he plucked the box from her arms, “I think I’ll pretty much finish up tonight, but I’ll want to really polish it tomorrow when I’ve got fresh eyes. And I probably won’t want to stop once I’ve got started so eat and pee before I get here.”

“You’re lucky you’re cute or you wouldn’t get away with bossing people around like that,” she passed him a plate before tossing open the box.

“I know,” he winked to her, dishing them both a slice, “You know I probably only need another hour or so tonight, so we could watch a movie or something while we eat, then I could finish up after.”

A swarm of butterflies fluttered around her stomach, almost making it impossible for her to answer, “That sounds nice Tom, you definitely deserve to relax.”

“We both do,” he grabbed her remote as he fell down on the couch.

“I’ve been laying on the couch, relaxing is currently all I know.”

“Nah, I’m sure it gets tiring sitting there looking pretty all day,” he sucked in a sharp breath when she sat down, pressed right against his side.

“It does,” she nodded in agreement, “Alright, you pick for us alright?”

“Sure.”

He didn’t pay much attention to what he was picking, he was much more concerned with their proximity. They’d watched plenty of movies and tv shows together during their friendship, but they never sat so close. It gave Tom a lot of confidence, since she’d opted to sit besides him, he took it as a sign that his flirting was landing. So after they finished eating he decided he should also initiate something and wrapped an arm around her shoulders. Without even thinking she had laid her head on his shoulder, it just felt natural. Tom pressed a quick kiss to the top of her head and turned his attention to the tv.

Day 7

Tom stood up, stepping back a few feet to examine his work. He did it fairly frequently so (y/n) didn’t think anything of it and turned right back to the tv, until Tom spoke.

“It’s perfect, I’m done,” he declared with a small smile.

(y/n) raised a brow, “Seriously?”

He nodded, “Yeah, I have to seal it and everything, but the actual painting is done. I’ll turn it in on Monday.”

“Don’t you have a few more weeks?” she asked as she stood.

He nodded, “I don’t need them, I’m finished, it’s gorgeous, I don’t need to do anything else.”

“Well can I see?”

“Of course!” he grabbed her shoulders, quickly pulling her to face the work, “What do you think?”

She went wide eyed, taken back by how good he’d made her look. It was strange, seeing herself in a painting. It was done well of course, and it looked just like her, but better somehow. She couldn’t put her finger on exactly what it was, maybe the background or the romantic theme of the painting, but she just looked better. She looked like an angel, perched on a bed of pink and blue swirling clouds, reminiscent of the paintings she likes, but distinctly Tom’s work.

“Wow,” she turned to him with a big smile, “Tom it’s incredible, I don’t know how you made me look like that.”

“That’s just what you look like.”

She shook her head, “It’s better somehow, like the perfect version of me or something. You did incredible.”

“No,” he shook his head, “That’s just you, but thank you. I’m really proud of this, I think it’s one of my best.”

She blushed, “Yeah, you’re gonna get a killer grade.”

He hadn’t thought much about the grave, the assignment had taken a back seat to just painting her, “Yeah, I hope so,” he grabbed her upper arms and smiled down at her, “You’re incredible you know that? Thank you so much for doing this for me.”

She bit her lip and nodded, “You don’t have to thank me, I had fun.”

“Me too,” his eyes caught her lips for just a moment, soft and supple and more than kissable, “I, uh, we should do something to celebrate, dinner or something.”

“That would be fun too,” she tucked some hair behind her ear, leaning towards him just slightly.

He found himself leaning in too, but as much as he wanted to kiss her, something just wouldn’t let him. He kissed her forehead and backed away awkwardly, “I, uh, need to pack everything up, I have to get the sealant on pretty quick and I left it at home so…”

The sealant was in his bag, but he felt like running away suddenly, his nerves truly getting the best of him.

Her cheeks burned in embarrassment but she nodded, ‘Y-Yeah, no problem, I’ll help you pack up.”

“Wait so let me get this straight, all this flirting and pining, you chickened out on the kiss?” Harrison’s jaw fell open in disbelief.

Tom nodded, hiding his head against his arms, “Yes, and I nearly died the first time so let's not talk about it now.”

“Dude,” he gaped, “Are you kidding me? All you had to do was pucker up!”

“I know!” Tom groaned, “I know, I don’t even know what happened, I just froze up. I mean what if I misread it? She probably didn’t want me to kiss her, in fact I know she didn’t.”

“You said she leaned in first!”

“I thought she did but I’m stupid! There’s no way she was trying to kiss me.” “It literally could not be more obvious that you two like each other so I don’t want to hear it. You need to just call her up and tell her you froze up and ask her out.”

“I can’t, I will literally drop dead.”

Harrison rolled his eyes, “Then I’ll do it.”

“Dude no! I’m not ten, I can’t send you to ask a girl out for me, that’s a guaranteed no at this point.”

“Then just tell her,” Harrison groaned, “Before I lose it, please.”

Tom was coming to terms with the fact that he was going to die alone by Wednesday morning. It was hard to accept, but easier to accept than almost kissing his dream girl and chickening out, so the choice had been easy. But apparently the universe had other plans for him, as Ms. Miller decided to pull him aside after class.

“I want to talk about your final,” she placed his painting on an easel.

He blushed, “You don’t like it?”

She shook her head, “No, no, Tom this is incredible. I was going to suggest that you enter it into the National Galleries up and coming contest.”

“Seriously?”

She nodded, “Yeah, this is amazing, it would be a shame if the world didn’t see it,” she chuckled lightly, “And I’m sure it would get you some brownie points with your girlfriend.”

“Oh, she’s not my girlfriend,” he spoke softly, pretending to cough to try and hide his words, “Just my friend.”

“You painted just a friend like this?”

He nodded.

“And remind me of the title.”

“The Angel Nextdoor.”

“Do you call all your friends angel?”

“Uh no, just her,” he bit his lip while she raised a brow at him, “She doesn’t know I’m into her.”

Ms. Miller glanced at the painting with a hum, “Has she seen the painting?”

He nodded, “Yeah, she was there the whole time.”

“I think she knows.”

He began to blush again, “Really?”

She nodded, “I could tell just from looking at it that you must really love this girl, I’m sure she can tell too,” she smiled and leaned back on her desk, “Anyways, I just wanted to let you know about the competition, I’ll have your marks soon.”

He nodded, “Thanks, I’ll, uh, think about it.”

He scrambled out of class quickly, wondering if maybe he didn’t have to die alone. Maybe he could confess, and maybe (y/n) who had gushed to him about the painting he’d poured all his love into, would reciprocate. Maybe she had leaned in to try and kiss him, and maybe, just maybe, she really did like him back. Instead of stopping at the dining hall where he was supposed to meet Harrison and (y/n) he paced right past it, towards (y/n)’s class, trying to hype himself up the whole way.

(y/n) had spent the past few days with her mind full of questions. She had leaned in, hoping Tom would get the hint and they would kiss. It seemed to be going that way but then he stopped. Tom had seemed flirty while he was painting her, and she tried her best to show her own interest. He had even held her while they watched a movie, but then he didn’t kiss her. He just kissed her on the forehead and left. She was worried she had misread everything, and almost certain she had. She was anxious about seeing him for the first time since the almost kiss, worried things would be tense or weird. So she was quite worried when she spotted him outside of her class, worried he was about to tell her to never bring up the incident and forget anything happened.

“Hey,” she smiled to him, “What are you doing here?” “I came to talk to you,” he blushed a bit, “Uh, Ms. Miller really likes my painting, she thought I should enter it in this competition for up and comers.”

“Really? Tom that’s awesome, congrats!”

He nodded, “Yeah, thanks, I thought it was really cool too, but she said she thought it was good because she could really see my emotions.”

“Also awesome, you’re gonna ace that class.”

“Okay, but, um…” he trailed off for a minute, unsure of how to force the words out, “The emotion was love, that she saw I mean. She said she could tell I really loved you, a-and I know you know that I do love you, but I love you way more than any of my other friends, and it’s different too… I mean I know I’m like a struggling artist, and that’s not the most desirable thing, and I’m not this perfect, beautiful person like you are, but I do love you, and I love you so much it’s overwhelming sometimes. The best thing I’ve ever painted is you because I love you so much, romantically.”

She stood totally frozen, with wide eyes and her mouth hanging open, making Tom’s heart pound nervously against his chest. He thought he might black out but she moved suddenly, grabbing him by the neck and kissing him hard. Her lips were plump and soft and so much better than he could have imagined. He grabbed her waist, leaning into her with a smile.

“I love you too,” she smiled as she pulled away, “I think you’re perfect and I am totally crazy about you.”

“Seriously?”

She nodded excitedly, “Of course! How could I not? You’re incredibly talented and you're funny and your kind, Tom you’re amazing, of course I am so totally in love with you.”

He smiled and sealed their lips again, “Maybe we could go on a date sometime then?”

She nodded again, “Of course, but I’ve got one condition.”

“Anything.”

“There has to be more kissing.”

He laughed before pecking her lips again, “I think I can handle that.”

215 notes · View notes

ellohcee · 3 years

Text

It Seems Fitting

Summary: (get it cause they meet at the fitting rooms)

Well this is something I’ve had sitting around for a while and it was going to accompany a piece for day 7 of Jaspvid week until the other idea hit me. Since I had this mostly fixed up to post by that time I decided to finish up and post it anyway.

- - - -

David hummed softly as he turned back and forth in the mirror, tugging the dress shirt down a little and trying to see how it rested in the back. He liked it, it looked good with the slacks and vest but he would have to get the seal of approval first. He turned around and opened the door to step out of the dressing room stall, looking down at himself as he did so. “Okay, how does this look?”

“Rockin.”

David froze because that was most definitely not Gwen, looking up to see a man standing there with a pair of black pants slung over his arm, paused midway to find an open room. He looked nonplussed, but David immediately flushed red in mortification regardless. “OH, I’m- I’m sorry I was expecting my friend to be out here I’m so sorry-” he stammered.

“Hey hey, it’s chill,” the man said with a grin, making David’s stomach flutter. “But for real though, it’s good on you.”

“You really think?” David asked, his shoulders hunching a little closer to his ears.

“Yeah dude. I mean, I’ve been told my fashion sense is shit so take my word with a grain of salt, but I think you look baller,” he said matter-of-factly. “Classy.”

“Oh. Thank you,” David replied, pleasantly surprised.

“David I found you another tie that’s less stupid looking- oh, hey, friend of yours?” Gwen asked as she walked up, looking between the two curiously.

David stammered for a moment before the stranger cut in, rescuing him. “Impromptu outfit rater. I was just tellin’ your boy here he looks-” he paused to click his tongue, rocking a fist side to side with his thumb and pinky extended. “Awesome.”

David flushed as Gwen let out a bark of laughter, giving him a look that doubled his embarrassment and told him he’d never live this down. “You giant dork, did you just barge out here and ask a stranger?”

“I wasn’t looking and I thought you would be out here like you said!” David protested in mortification, his ears and cheeks red as can be and suddenly feeling too hot under the bright lights of the fitting rooms.

“I’m sorry but I had to get a different tie, that one with the pine trees is so fucking stupid,” she shot back while the stranger watched on, obviously amused by their bickering.

“But I like it,” David whined in protest.

“Fine, let’s ask your new outfit rater,” Gwen teased as David started to protest, holding two ties up to the man while ignoring David’s hurried attempt at intervention. “Which one do you think would go best?”

“Gwen, come on, leave him alone I’ve already bothered him enough-”

“I like the pine trees,” their new friend replied calmly, smiling at their incredulous looks.

Gwen groaned, her eyes rolling so far skyward and her shoulders dropping in defeat. “God, seriously, you too?” she demanded, giving him a betrayed look despite knowing this man for all of two minutes.

“Yeah man! I’m not a big tie guy, but when I am absolutely forced to wear one, I do like me a good fun pattern,” he said, winking at David. “The trees are cute, and the green matches your eyes.”

David’s face went redder, his heart giving a big uncomfortable thump because excuse me pardon but what did the wink mean??

Meanwhile Gwen made a frustrated noise. “Fine, keep your stupid dorky pine trees,” she grumbled, tossing the tie at David and earning a surprised noise as he fumbled to catch it. He blinked down at the tie before looking up to watch Gwen as she left to put the other one back.

David swallowed, looking back over to his impromptu outfit rater. “Um, s-sorry,” he said, trying to smile.

“No worries dude, it’s all good. I’m Jasper, by the way,” he dropped casually, shoving his free hand in his jeans pocket and resting his weight to one side.

“Oh! Uh, David!” the redhead replied pleasantly, straightening out the tie in his hands before he could wrinkle it. “It’s nice to meet you.”

“Likewise,” Jasper grinned, making David’s stomach flip again because gosh what a nice smile he was such a sucker for a nice smile and he was so not prepared to have a conversation with someone so handsome in the dressing room after embarrassing himself like that-

“So Fancy Pants, you guys gettin’ ready for a thing?” Jasper asked, breaking him out of his spiraling thoughts.

“Oh, yes, Gwen insisted that I get something new otherwise she won’t be seen with me,” David murmured, embarrassed.

Jasper laughed kindly. “Well I’m sure you two will look great together no matter what.”

David was about to reply, when something hit him and he suddenly furiously did not want Jasper to think the wrong thing even though they’d probably never see each other again but he had to let it be known- “Oh, no we’re not d-dating,” he corrected hastily, making the other man’s eyebrow quirk slightly, that calm smile still on his face. “But we are going together to a friend’s wedding this weekend, since we’re both single.”

Jasper suddenly blinked, losing his amused look. “This weekend? Long shot, humor me here, but it’s not Deena and Sai, is it?”

David’s mouth dropped open just a tiny bit. “Yes, it is. You know them?”

“Yeah dude, I’m goin too!” Jasper said with a grin, holding his arms out a little. “Sai is one of my buds from high school.”

“Gwen and I have worked with Deena for the last two years,” David said in surprise.

“Small world,” Jasper replied, looking amused and a little… delighted? It was an unexpected break from his so-far casual demeanor that threw David a little bit for a loop. “Well then, I’ll let you get back to it. Hope I see you there, Davey,” he said with another wink, making David’s heart to that stupid flip-flop thing again.

Who gave this perfect stranger authority to send him so completely off kilter?

“Y-yes, see you then,” he said, trying to sound like he hadn’t just been run over.

Jasper’s grin stretched a little wider before he headed down the row of dressing rooms, disappearing into one of the doors.

David let out a shaky breath, trying to compose himself just as Gwen appeared at his side again and made him jump. “Are you still standing here? You been talking to your new boyfriend that long? I don’t blame you, he’s hot.”

“Shhhh!” David shushed her frantically, waving a hand in the direction Jasper had gone as his heart raced double overtime now between the interaction and Gwen’s sudden reappearance. “He’s just down that way,” he whispered, still red, still flustered.

“So what? God, what a dork. Are you gonna get that or what?”

“I’m- I was- you-”

“Come on David I don’t want to be here all day, I want to get lunch,” Gwen insisted, crossing her arms impatiently.

David sighed in frustration, retreating back into the changing room to get back into his normal clothes and most definitely not pouting. “You didn’t even tell me if it looks good,” he mumbled petulantly, just loud enough for her to catch.

“You didn’t need my opinion, you seemed to hold his high enough,” Gwen teased calmly from outside the door, making David go red again. Was he that obvious??

“Gwen, please keep your voice down,” he whined, imagining Jasper several doors down probably hearing at least Gwen’s half of the conversation and maybe his whispering and probably deciding that David was in fact a giant mess and now debating whether or not he actually hoped to see them at the wedding-

“Why? What’s the big deal?”

“Because,” David said pertinently as he gathered up the clothes and opened the door, stepping out. “He is going to the same wedding this weekend,” he hissed, his lips pursing in what liked to think was a stern glare but in all actuality looking like a peeved child.

“What! No way!” Gwen exclaimed as the redhead quickly shuffled her out of the fitting rooms.

“Yes, and I’d rather not be a complete mess if we see him and he overheard,” David grumbled softly.

“Why not? He seemed kinda sweet on you and you were a total mess already, like, near disaster levels and he was still cool,” she mused. “You can talk to him again, maybe get his number!”

“I- nonono, I don’t think he- he wasn’t-” David stammered.

“He totally was,” Gwen shot back. “He low-key complimented your eyes and winked at you, he is not straight.”

David took a shaky breath as something hit him. “Twice,” he said softly in realization.

“What?”

“He… winked at me again after you left,” he said, embarrassed. “When he said that he… hoped he’d see us there. And he called me Davey.”

Gwen looked incredulous and maybe on the verge of hitting him or strangling him or both if the mood struck her right. “And you still think he’s not interested?? He thinks you’re cute you idiot!! If you don’t find him at that damn wedding and get his number I will end you! Did you at least get his name?” she asked, her tone clearly pleading work with me here.

“Jasper,” David said, hunching his shoulders a little.

“Well at least you got a foot in the door,” Gwen scoffed, her murder plans paused as she gave him a not-so-gentle but still friendly nudge where he’d slowed a little. “Pay for your shit and let’s go eat, then you can sigh and daydream about his smile and whatever all you want.”

“Gwen,” David whined miserably.

- - - -

Nerves ate him up all week as David found himself simultaneously dreading and anticipating seeing Jasper at the wedding. He had a hard time imagining someone so handsome and easygoing would so easily take a shine to his awkward self when he’d been such a disaster, but Gwen was adamant. That didn’t stop him from dreading making a fool of himself again as he stood there sipping from his water at the reception on Saturday. But also meticulously scanning the crowd looking for Jasper...

So what if he’d mentioned David’s eyes. And complimented his outfit. And looked kind of excited to find out they were going to the same wedding. That didn’t mean anything. Gwen insisted he’d been flirting but no one ever flirted with David how was he supposed to know. There was no way Jasper had been flirting with him. Right?

“You got the threads!”

David whirled around in surprise, his heart racing upon seeing Jasper approaching, looking unlawfully handsome in black slacks and a purple dress shirt. He’d rolled up the sleeves and there was the ends of a black tie with little rainbow polka dots hanging from his pants pocket and now it was going to be ten times harder talking to him. He was toeing the line between causal and formal and it just looked so good on him that it wasn’t fair. “J-Jasper,” he greeted, smiling and trying to control the butterflies in his stomach.

“Hey Davey, you look great, just like I said,” Jasper grinned. “Even better without price tags hanging off ya,” he added playfully.

David just barely stifled his surprised laugh. “Thanks, you- you do too. Purple really suits you,” he said shyly.

Jasper didn’t seem the type for formal clothing, judging by the jeans and well-worn t-shirt he’d been in the other day, but he sure pulled this off nicely. It didn’t even seem out of place that he still wore the few colorful woven bracelets David had spotted in the dressing room. It fit him.

“Thanks dude, I can clean up alright sometimes,” Jasper teased, shoving his hands in his pockets. “Where’s your friend? Gwen, right?”

“Yes, she’s talking with Deena and some of the other ladies.”

“She abandoned you? Weak,” Jasper tsked softly. “I’ll hang with you, if that’s cool?”

“O-of course,” David replied, receiving a grin in response that suddenly rendered him a little bit weak.

They talked for a little while about standard casual things, work, hobbies, interests, the stupid stuff Jasper had done with Sai in high school, and David found himself slowly relaxing as time went on. It was getting easier to talk to Jasper, he was so casual and laid back it was like a vortex of calm that was drawing him in, telling him to stop being such an anxious mess. He would love for that to happen, it would be a lot easier of finding someway to see Jasper again in the future if he weren’t a total anxious mess.

But no matter how nervous he was, he couldn’t help but laugh at the cheesy quips and jokes Jasper made, and the other man seemed a tiny bit delighted at every little laugh and giggle he got in response.

Without realizing it, they’d gotten lost in their own little corner of the reception talking for nearly an hour. When the band started playing again after a break and people headed for the dance floor, Jasper’s eyes fixed in that direction. They’d both gone silent when the music started, Jasper’s keen gaze remaining on the crowd for a few moments before suddenly clicking his tongue as if a decision had been made. “Soooo,” he drawled slowly, casual, glancing over at David. “Yoooouu... wanna dance?” he asked hopefully.

David met his eyes in surprise, a blush burning his cheeks as his mind fought to catch up. “I- y-yes, I’d… love to,” he said softly.

Jasper’s face lit up. “Sweet,” he said happily, holding a hand out.

David took in a quiet, shaky breath before placing his hand in Jasper’s and letting the other man lead him over to the dance floor.

“I’m not like… a super great dancer? So do you wanna lead or should I?” Jasper asked, surprising David because he hadn’t even thought about who would lead.

“Oh, um, either way is fine?”

“Well you’re taller, so I think you should,” Jasper said matter-of-factly, turning to David as they found a spot and bringing the redhead’s hand to his waist without missing a beat. He arranged their hands together on the opposite side before resting his free one on David’s shoulder, giving him a disarming grin.

David flushed at the feel of Jasper’s waist under his palm, swallowing. “Well I don’t think that- has anything to do with it- but- okay,” he stammered, moving to start the dance and placing his feet carefully.

“It’s a way to decide and get us dancing sometime today,” Jasper shot back playfully.

“Fair enough,” David laughed softly, watching their feet for a few moments as they continued to move, slowly getting used to the contact. “You’re not that bad!”

“Gimme time, I’ll fuck it up, don’t worry. And that’s not a threat just a promise,” Jasper replied casually, making David laugh again. “That’ll be the true test, how many times can I step on your feet before you get sick of me,” he teased.

“Well, I have to say your charm far makes up for whatever you may lack in dancing,” David replied.

“You think I’m charming?” Jasper asked, his eyes alight.

“It’s hard not to,” David said, smiling at the adorable and sincere delight on his dance partner’s face.

“I’ve been told goofball, dork, manchild, square, way back when anyone but me still said that, but never has my me-ness been described as charming. It’s pretty cool,” Jasper decided. “You’re pretty cool,” he added, grinning.

“Oh, I am not,” David chastised softly.

“Nah dude, seriously, otherwise I wouldn’t be taggin’ after you like a lost puppy,” he laughed, going a little pink actually. “I’m stoked and amazed I haven’t driven you nuts yet.”

“I don’t mind at all,” David replied, smiling at Jasper’s surprised look. “I um, I really like talking with you,” he added.

“Most excellent,” Jasper said, his grin coming back full force and his cheeks going a little darker. It made David feel better to finally not be the only one who was flustered, even if it was only a little on Jasper’s part.

They continued to talk and dance into the next song, and while they kept a respectful inch between them, it was never tense or uncomfortable. Despite Jasper’s earlier insistence that he wasn’t a good dancer, they flowed well together. No one’s feet ever got stepped on and things got even better when the band switched to something a little more upbeat.

People around them started dancing to match the new mood, and Jasper so smoothly pulled David into a new style of dance he took a few moments to adjust. It was… he didn’t know what it was. He thought maybe Jasper was making it up on the spot but then again it kind of seemed like that’s what most people were doing.

“C’mon Davey, loosen up, this is the part where we just wing it and no one gives a shit if we look like dorks,” Jasper teased, lifting David’s hand up and spinning under it so easily and casually that it pulled a delighted laugh from the redhead before he could stifle it.

“There ya go!” Jasper egged happily, the grin nearly splitting his face, his eyes bright and shining under the lights strung above the dance floor.

David’s face was flushed with delight, his own smile rivaling Jasper’s as they fell into a comfortable rhythm together.

They danced, happily oblivious and lost only in each other for some time. Without even realizing when it had happened, David had grown much more comfortable with Jasper. He was still a bit of a mess and the butterflies would not let up the whole time, but it became much easier to talk and joke with the other man.

He wondered where Gwen went, catching glimpses of her through the crowd sometimes but otherwise it was just them. Eventually they decided to break for some water, leaving the dance floor and heading over to the refreshment table to catch their breath. David felt like he was in a dream the whole time, as Jasper seemed perfectly content to stay with him as they leaned against a low stone wall near the venue’s fountain, talking quietly.

He wasn’t sure when it had gotten dark, but a bit of a chill was definitely setting into the evening air, and it made him very aware of Jasper’s close proximity next to him. He could feel the man’s body heat where their arms were nearly touching, creeping in through the fabric of his dress shirt and making David feel warm, hazy.

During a few moments of comfortable silence, David felt his phone buzz in his pocket and took it out to see a text from Gwen.

Want to wrap up your shit? Go in like 30 min? Tired.

When had it gotten so late? Had it been so easy to just get lost for hours with Jasper?

Sure, he texted back, setting his water down so he could use both hands while Jasper glanced curiously at him. I’ll meet you in front at 10:30?

Better, she responded, and he could hear her grumpy, mostly seriously threat even through text.

He smiled, looking up at Jasper. “That was Gwen, she’s almost ready to go and I’m designated driver. So I’ll be leaving at 10:30,” he explained, half because he felt rude for texting next to Jasper, even though there had been a lull in the conversation, and half in apology to cut short their evening.

“That’s cool,” Jasper replied evenly, not quite hiding a touch of disappointment in his voice. He was graceful about it though. “I’m a night owl but I’m feeling ready to bail too. I’ll hang with you until then?” he asked hopefully.

As if David could possibly turn down even a few more minutes with him. “Of course,” he replied, smiling.

He’d completely forgotten about asking for a phone number and now would’ve been the perfect time, but he just found himself soaking up that last little bit of time together. They talked quietly, worn out from dancing and just the overall noise and energy of the reception. Talking about nothing in particular just to talk, and as much as David loved Jasper’s constant jokes and his fun energy, the low, soft tones of his voice now in the calmer atmosphere was soothing, warm.

A few minutes before he was supposed to meet Gwen, they stood up and started heading for the front, passing through the dwindling reception and into the building where the ceremony had taken place, and finally outside again facing the parking lot. They stopped a short distance away from the doors to be out of the way of people leaving, but still visible to Gwen whenever she arrived.

“Soooo,” Jasper drawled playfully, much like he’d done earlier, scuffing his shoe on the pavement with hands shoved in his pockets, the tie still hanging off to one side.

Even though he’d glanced down when they were dancing, David only just now realized that Jasper was wearing all black sneakers, not dress shoes, and it just… fit him. He made it seem like a perfectly normal thing and not at all out of place for the formal event, and David found it very endearing now that he’d noticed. Dress shirt and pants, sneakers and worn out bracelets, and those piercings… It was all so charming. So Jasper. He came out of his little reverie when the other man continued.

“If you think I’m cool enough, you wanna like… hang out sometime?” Jasper asked, looking up with a hopeful grin.

David smiled back, his heart racing excitedly although a little toned down both from being tired and less nervous around the other man. “Yes, that sounds wonderful.”

“Awesome,” Jasper replied, digging his phone out. “Let me just get set up… okay, number?” he asked, typing the digits as David spoke and saving it into his contacts. He kept typing, clicking his tongue as the glow of his phone lit his face in soft blue. “Wig, here’s me,” he added, just before David’s phone buzzed in his pocket. “So you have mine. Well! Where’s your friend at?”

“I’m… not sure,” David frowned, looking around. He’d seen her from a distance but hadn’t talked to her in some time, and he wasn’t sure if that was intentional on Gwen’s part or not. “She’s only a couple minutes late...” he mused, checking his watch with only a little furrow to his brow.

“I’ll wait with you? Or I can help you look for her if you’re worried,” Jasper offered, sounding a little concerned himself.

“Oh- there she is- Gwen!” David called, waving and catching her attention.

“There you are you bitch,” Gwen greeted as she walked up. “Are you two still just flirting or did you get digits yet?” she demanded, poking David in the chest. She wasn’t slurring but she was definitely drunk, he decided.

“I- we- Gwen-”

“Listen,” she said, turning to Jasper and giving him a deadpan look. “He really likes you, but he’s a fuckin’ mess and I saw you two dancing like forever, so please put me outta my misery and say you two are gonna date or somethin, yeah?”

Jasper stood silently through her tirade, gaze flickering to David, who had a hand over his eyes in mortification. He looked back to Gwen, taking everything in surprisingly easy stride. “Well, hopefully,” he said with a grin, seeing David’s hand drop as the ginger stared at him, wide eyed and blushing. “We did phone numbers and I was planning on asking him out, sooo...” he trailed off, eyes flickering briefly to David with a warm smile.

“Well good!” Gwen insisted, poking Jasper now to emphasize her point. “Cause he’s a weenie and you gotta ask him, otherwise he’ll just be a sad little shit and tell me you don’t like him and whine about how hot you are and how nice your stupid smile is I’ve heard all about it-”

“Okay, Gwen, sweetheart, I think that’s enough please, thank you so much,” David interrupted softly, a little frantic, setting his hands on her shoulders. “How much did you have to drink?” he asked with a frown.

“Daviiid, it’s a fuckin’ wedding, you’re supposed to get plastered,” she complained.

“All the same, I think it’s time we get you home, alright?” he asked, steadying her as she wobbled a little in her heels, the first physical sign that she was feeling the alcohol. Definitely a good time to take her home, both to rest and before she made an unfortunate step in those heels.

“Whatever mom,” she shot back.

“Want a hand?” Jasper asked sympathetically.

“Please,” David replied softly, ducking under one of Gwen’s arms just as she waved her hand dismissively before their new friend could help.

“I can walk David for fuck sake, just gimme a second to get out of these heels from hell-” she grumbled, bending one leg at the knee and hanging onto David as she slipped the shoe off, before repeating with the other and pushing away from him. “Jesus christ, mother hen,” she huffed, holding the shoes by the straps and walking towards the car as the men trailed after her like ducklings.

David trotted ahead a little to unlock and open the passenger door, dutifully allowing Gwen to clamp onto his shoulder as she got into the car, making sure her dress and hands were safely inside before shutting the door. He sighed, straightening up and turning back to Jasper. “Well, thank you, for… everything today,” he said shyly.

“Course, thanks for hangin’ with me,” Jasper replied, holding his hand out.

David blinked, hesitating only briefly before relenting and placing his hand in Jasper’s once more. The other man brought it up and kissed his knuckles, making David flush. If he wasn’t already smitten, the hopeless romantic in him would’ve taken a nose dive off a cliff over that small, but tender gesture. Hell, he had anyway. It was still sinking in that Jasper liked him, wanted to ask him on a date, and he’d momentarily pushed that out of his head while making sure Gwen got to the car okay-

“I had a great time with you,” Jasper said softly, giving his fingers a gentle squeeze and pulling him out of his spiral. “And I really meant it, that I’d like to take you on a date sometime, if that’s cool?” he asked, giving a hopeful look.

David took a shaky breath, smiling. “I’d like that.”

“Rad,” Jasper said, a wide grin lighting up his face.

The torrent of butterflies in his stomach was so strong, and he was so high on cloud nine and a little bit of panic from everything, that before he could overthink it David found himself leaning in and placing a quick kiss on Jasper’s cheek.

Now it was Jasper’s turn to look gobsmacked, as he flushed bright from the action. “Oh, wow, double rad,” he whispered.

David giggled softly, gesturing over his shoulder to the car. “I’d- I’d better get her home.”

“Yeah, yeah, course, take care of Gwen,” Jasper said, releasing David’s hand finally and ruffling his hair nervously, looking a little shell shocked. “Drive safe, yeah?” he grinned, still pink in the cheeks.

“I will, you do the same,” David replied, his smile growing. “Bye Jasp, talk to you soon?”

“Absolute,” Jasper replied, shoving one hand in his pocket and giving a mock salute with the other. “Bye Davey,” he said happily, walking backwards a few paces before whirling around midstep to practically float off to his own car.

David took a deep, steadying breath and let it out slow, unable to keep the silly look off his face as he watched Jasper disappear among the departing guests, his heart still pounding in joy and disbelief...

“Hey!” Gwen barked from inside the car, startling him both with her shout and the loud slap of her palm hitting the window. “Let’s go pinetree, sometime tonight!”

David took one more breath and turned to walk around to the driver’s side, pointedly ignoring Gwen’s rude gesture.

Despite her tendency to get ornery when drunk, Gwen still offered him a playful congratulations on ‘bagging his man’ once they were on the road and heading home. She teased him the whole way about the way they’d been connected at the hip since finding each other, and it confirmed his suspicions that she’d ditched him to give him time alone with Jasper. Why he’d seen her only in passing all night as she seemed to avoid him.

Which was why he was very sincerely thankful this one time to be abandoned by a friend at a social gathering. This thought found him smiling fondly the whole way walking Gwen to her apartment, keeping an arm around her as she fumbled keys out of her purse and unlocked the door. Despite more protests, she allowed herself to be escorted inside and to her bedroom.

David carefully unraveled her hair of it’s pins and twists, got her a glass of water while she changed, and made sure drank at least half of it before bidding her goodnight and leaving, making certain the lights were off and the door was locked on his way out.

Once he was finally home and able to start getting himself ready for bed, his ears rang in the blessed silence after listening to the sounds of the wedding all day. He’d changed and brushed his teeth by the time his phone buzzed, and David was ridiculously elated to see Jasper was already texting him.

J: Hey, sorry for the late text, just wanted to make sure you got home okay and Gwen is good.

D: We’re both fine, thank you. I got her situated and I’m at home now.

J: Cool, good to hear.

D: Thanks again for today, I had a really great time.

J: Yeah totes, me too! I’m really glad the wedding came up cause I thought you were real cute but there’s no smooth way to ask for someone’s number in a changing room without looking like a creep, ya dig?

David giggled softly, flushing.

D: I don’t think I would have minded but I’m glad it worked out how it did. Besides Gwen getting in your face at the end there.

J: No big, she’s cool, outspoken. I like her. Anyway, it’s really late so I’ll leave you alone. Talk to you later?

D: Sounds good. Thanks again, and goodnight.

J: Night!

David let out a happy sigh as he set his phone down, almost unable to believe how lucky he was. He didn’t know what Jasper saw in him, but he wouldn’t argue. He really hadn’t even expected to have that great of a time at the wedding, let alone meet anyone. He’d expected to stay close to Gwen, talk to Deena and Sai and maybe some other people from work the couple had invited. He certainly hadn’t expected to dance with anyone but Gwen.

Then along comes Jasper, looking happy to see him, chatting with him, asking him to dance. He’d never expected someone so fun and handsome to be interested in his dorky self, but Jasper really seemed to like him. He stared at the ceiling of his bedroom in the dark that night, still smiling like an idiot as that sweet but casual kiss to his hand replayed on loop in David’s head, all the while wondering how soon he might see Jasper again.

#camp camp #cc david #cc jasper #cc gwen #jaspvid #ellowrites #i added about 700 words and i should really proofread that part before i post this buuuuut i;m not gonna #gonna post it cross my fingers and bail #enjoy

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lune-hime · 3 years

Text

Garden of Tulips (Levi/Reader) Chapter 9

~Click me for more chapters~

“What did it look like?”

“Hmm?” Levi looked up from his place next to your sleeping form. “The titan that tried to snack on my darling granddaughter.” “Ugly as fuck.” “Aren’t they all?”

Levi recounts memories of the reader and their shared life together while she recovers from a serious injury.

!!WARNINGS!! - Violence, gore, smut, wholesome content ;)

Tulipa gesneriana ~ Commonly called the Garden Tulip. A lovely flower with cherry red petals that is never seen cultivating by itself.

↞↠↞↠↞↠

“Now that we’ve had our pity party, how about I act like a proper grandmother and show you some photos.” Oma smiled and rose to grab a weathered tin and a photo album from the bookshelf. Levi felt like the couch was engulfing his form with its soft cradle. When Oma turned around she was met with his body half eaten by the overly plush material; his shoulders hunched and tea propped up against his chest as his body reclined even further inward. He looked pleasantly comfortable and stiff at the same time.

As she plopped the two memory vessels on the coffee table, Levi’s features hardened akin to the rusted box now in front of him. The foreign lettering connected in geometric shapes that he recognized but could not decipher. They left remembrance teetering on the tip of his tongue.

“That’s my father’s cigar box.” Oma explained when she noted his fixation on the object. Levi heaved himself out of the couch’s embrace and propped his elbows on his knees, still fixated on the memento.

“The writing on the side…” Levi let his sentence flit away on his breath as his brain delved deeper into the patterns.

“Writing? What makes you think its writing?” Oma pursed her lips and picked up the weathered box to give it a closer examination. “Looks more like a decorative design.”

Oma shrugged and passed the box to Levi. It felt cold on his freshly tea-cup warmed palms. Flashbacks of loitering about the weathered guard posts, frosted cabins, and Utgard Castle drew back vivid images of the strange symbols. They sparked his curiosity enough to imprint within him, but he didn’t care enough to debate with the old woman.

It would be a memory put on hold for another time.

“I’ve seen something like it at one of the outposts on old crates of supplies and alcohol.” He stated, placing the box down in resignation.

“Hmm.” Oma gave one final acknowledgement before popping the top open. She lifted the haphazardly stacked photos out of their resting place with a gentleness that cradled each precious paper.

As she flipped through them, Levi felt like he was gaining memories of a childhood... a family ...that he never had. It was like observing someone’s entire life through a looking glass. These pictures were of Oma; of her and her husband, of her and their children, of her and you and Petra.

Levi’s brow knitted when she came to a photo of a spry, young version of herself embracing a familiar face-only with a full head of lucious locks.

“You and- Pixis ?” Levi said in exasperation and squinted at the photo as if that would make his shock dwindle.

Oma couldn’t have been much older than you; her statue was slight but her physique was robust. Her hair cascaded from her bun and softly framed her face that smiled wryly at the camera. She was arm in arm with Pixis; his eyes crinkled with happiness and hair (comically) blowing in the wind.

“Ah yes. Dot and I were both squad leaders and grew very close.” Oma sighed with a nostalgic glow. “That man truly had a way with his hands. The last time I saw him Ymir knows I couldn’t restrain myself-”

Levi inhaled his tea so furiously that it seared his throat with the same passion Oma gave off for the garrison commander. She looked on in amusement as he collected himself and cleared the assault on his lungs.

“You mean, you two-” Levi started, mentally wiping away the unwanted visual before it left a permanent stain in his cranium.

“Oh yes. As casual and dedicated as friends but as steaming as this kettle.” Oma’s youthful vigor radiated extra brightly as she reminisced.

“Why didn’t it work out?” Levi asked.

“My husband snatched me away.” She winked and continued on her trip down memory lane.

“Ah! Now that one of you is here…” Oma began excitedly as the next photo was unveiled. “You can tell me all about this one.”

“You have this photo?” Levi’s voice was barely above a whisper as he relieved the corporeal memory.

“Yup, she sent it to me for safe keepings. Said in her letter that she saw your face enough everyday that she didn’t need the photo right now.”

Levi felt the familiar feeling of his heart expanding when he set his eyes on your elegant beauty. The photo in question was taken at the last Royal Gala after everyone had swapped their military uniforms for evening wear. He always secretly wished he had more excuses to see you in a gown such as that one; the smooth fabric billowed gracefully from your hips, accentuated your curves, and pushed upward the swell of your breasts that were cradled in a lining of lavish lace trim. It would be eternally alluring to him, partially from the lavish overstimulation of the elite banquet and because it was-well- you. He remembered the insatiable feeling of the stark and sudden transition of having absolutely nothing to his name, to being flushed with an abundance of everything in that moment.

You were beaming, a brilliant smile outshining the flashy festival mask that you adorned. Levi...not so much. He gazed into the viewfinder with features hard but eyes delicate in a way that demonstrated he was putting up with your antics. The two of you were pressed into each other's sides as the decadent swirling of the wealthy framed your faces.

If you squinted closely, and looked past the grainy texture and into the background, one would be able to observe Hange swinging Moblit wildly in circles among the party-goers.

↞♞♘↠

“Why not?” You prodded, arms crossed in defiance at his rejection of your proposition.

“I’m not going to wear some gaudy mask that most likely has the sweat stains of hundreds of people on it.” Levi stated with sharp disgust. His eyes nearly rolled out of his skull when you began childishly tugging on the sleeve of his tailcoat.

That tailcoat was the precise reason why you desperately needed to get in line for this photo. It was hard enough to see Levi out of anything but his scouting uniform or his everyday combo of a long sleeved button down and trousers. Both options were easy on the eyes but tonight he looked ravishing. The tailcoat was expertly tailored and clutched the curve of his slim waist and the expanse of his toned arms close to the obsidian fabric.

He was always clean, but cleaned up -so to say-he was absolutely divine. You would never tell him this but his fox like beauty paired with the fancy dress endowed him with the grace of a prince.

“You don’t have to wear the mask! Although that would make it less fun…” You mumbled in a last ditch attempt, hoping he would take pity for you on this special occasion.

“Great now that we’ve established it’s not fun, let’s go get another drink.” He replied, unfazed and unwavered. He began turning towards the outer end of the ballroom where waiters danced with shining trays instead of partners.

“No!” You yelped, scampering as hurriedly as your heels would allow you to stand in front of him. Your chest was heaving in excitement for the extravagant evening (and by the walls was that corset tight). Your heels increased your already apparent height difference and made your very... perky breasts at eye level with his gaze. Levi coughed to rebuild his crumbling composure. He kindly reminded himself he was at a government sponsored event and that no matter how desperately he desired to let his eyes wander this was not the time and place.

“You said I look beautiful tonight, right?” You quipped with a pointed glare.

“Of course.” His lack of hesitation in his answer made the alcohol content in your blood skyrocket as you became drunk on him even more than you already had.

“Well if you would take 5 minutes to take this photo with me that’s 5 minutes until I’m willing to sneak out of here with you. Then you can see this beautiful gown on your chamber’s floor.” Your eyes sparkled with mischief akin to the iridescent pearls that were nestled into your ears.

Levi’s brow quirked in intrigue and you were a deer caught in the sly beams of his eyes.

“Fine.”

↞♞♘↠

“What a wonderful gala that was. I usually despise such events but I gotta examine you in person for the first time, no matter how brief our encounter was. I got to see my girl in such a lovely gown, and I got to absolutely feel Dot-”

“I don’t need a narrative.” Levi intercepted quickly with a sharp tinge of annoyance that sent Oma into a mess of snorts and laughter.

That strange sensation washed over him once more. The pleasantly warm bubble that made him feel like he was home but standing on the outskirts of the precipice all at once.

“Is that why we didn’t get to actually meet?” Levi trailed off as realization snapped him like a taut rubber band. While he was forced to blandly entertain the higher ups and delegates your grandmother was snogging a commander.

“Oh hush, you’re an adult, stop acting like a teenage boy.” She playfully chided with a glint in her eye that made Levi take step closer to that tempting bubbling feeling.

A gentle knock on the wood paneling caused Oma and Levi to raise their heads to meet Felicia’s gaze.

“I’m going to head home now, Frau Vogel.” She said with a tired smile as she poked her head around the living room archway.

“Damn, it really has gotten dark hasn’t it?” Oma mumbled as she took in the waning light.

“My dear, it’s much too late to be walking back by yourself. You can stay in your old room.” Her response was a medley of chastising and fondness.

“O-oh, no. I mean-how kind of you-but I don’t have a change of fresh clothes and these ones have bits of blood and schnitzel on them…” Felicia sighed with a whine. Oma was about to interject her dramatic behavior when Levi’s voice filled the space instead.

“I’ll walk you home.” He offered, tone as smooth and calm as the golden liquid in his cup. He placed his cup on the saucer with a small clank and rose from the couch. Felicia bristled in bashful gratitude as he quietly padded over to the front door and began lacing his boots.

Oma gave Felicia a wink and nestled further into the couch, letting the cushions cradle her old bones and the aroma of the tea lull her into relaxation.

“The kitchen is clean, I folded all of the towels-” Felicia hurriedly explained when Levi held the door open for her.

“Yes, yes, thank you. Now off you go, I’ll come fetch you tomorrow.” Oma shooed the jittery girl out of the house with a wave of her hand.

“Oh, Felicia-” She interjected. The young woman poked her head back into the archway.

“If I hear one peep out of you about not paying you for looking after Y/N this next week I will have to start cooking the schnitzel myself.”

Felicia gasped in betrayal as the fireflies that worshiped the porch flowers sent she and her companion off on their moonlit walk. The grit of shoes against the pebbled road took over the silence which Levi observed Felicia desperately wanted to fill. She seemed to feel pressure to speak, to offer something other than the emptiness of the countryside. Levi, on the other hand, was completely content with bathing in the blissful numbness of the cricket symphonies and the wind kisses of the path.

“How does our village compare to where you’re from?” Felicia barely overpowered the whistling of the grass with her slight tone. Her question was an innocent one. One with good intent that Levi didn’t dare spoil given the past two days of anguish.

“It’s...definitely more colorful.” He let the sweet air fill his tired lungs. He had seen a larger aurora of colors in these past 48 hours than he reckoned he had ever seen in his monochromatic existence. Going from the diluted underground to the emerald green seas and burnt brick of the walls didn’t leave much room for hue.

“So you’re from an urban area then?” Felicia continued, enthused that Levi had picked up her conversation.

“You could say that.” His reply was vague but left no room for further explanation. Truthfully, he felt as much from that festering tumor as a migratory bird feels for its winter home. It was where he was birthed, raised, existed . But he didn’t truly live until he rid his mouth of the dusted, stale air and crumbing ceilings of the underground.

Felicia’s mouth hung open with an incoming response when a screech erupted in its place. Levi grunted as she jumped sideways right into him, colliding into his sore shoulder. He just barely caught her as he staggered backwards. She stumbled against his chest before he propped her back up straight by her underarms.

“What the fuck just happened?” He asked with an irritation he couldn’t restrain. Felicia’s bodyweight had punctured his shoulder with sharp needles that disturbed the dull hum of his pain.

“Oh walls, I’m so so SO sorry sir-I MEAN LEVI!” She babbled as she floundered to eject herself from his support so as to not burden him any more.

“I-I, something moved in the bush right next to me!” Felicia’s tone wobbled just as her legs did. Levi followed her trembling gaze and prepared himself for a feral dog or a wild boar. If it was anything bigger than that, like a bear, they were absolutely fucked.

The snort that erupted from the bush elicited another shrill scream from the maid. Levi’s muscles tensed in the realization that he would have to fend off the beast with his bare hands in his absence of weapons. He brought up a protective arm in front of Felicia when a pawing in the foliage neared the paved pathway. The thick anticipation mingled with the drumming of hearts was the soundtrack to the animal moving into the lamplight.

Levi’s muscles instantly relaxed. All except his chest. It shook with candid chuckles that materialized as a small hum and blossomed into a full blown laughter.

“Hello Big Shit.” Levi’s smile was radiant against the artificial lighting as Puddle aparated out of the bushes, his form now fully visible in the dim illumination. “He must have followed us.”

“B-big shhhh?” Felicia stammered, eyes wide with embarrassment. She was too polite to finish the last word.

Then he did it again.

He laughed so freely it put the crickets to shame. Felicia pursed her lips awkwardly and smoothed her nervous hands along her apron.

“He’s Y/N’s.” Levi cooed , reaching a delicate hand out to the horse and letting him press his plush nose to his knuckles. Felicia’s jaw went slack once more. She felt like she was regarding a completely separate individual she had previously been acquainted with. His cicada shell had been discarded on the path with the others and now only tenderness enveloped the man’s being.

“He is quite terrifying.” Levi teased gently as Puddle extended his neck to nuzzle hot breaths into his cheek. Felicia flushed at her overreaction. Levi turned from the horse to her with a glow that made her swear he was a tranquil forest spirit rather than the man who was walking her home. At her shock he immediately reigned himself back in, clearing his throat and partially crawling back into his cicada skin.

“If he’s followed us this far he’ll keep walking with us.” Levi said, the brief bloom of outward happiness coming to an end.

After a few minutes of only the comets’ luminous words trickling through the sky and the occasional snort, Felicia spoke up.

“It’s nice to see you happy.” She commented bashfully.

“It’s not like I haven’t been happy before.” He huffed, unsure of where to place her heartfelt compliment among the ever turbidness of his mind.

“I didn’t mean it like that! It’s just-I’ve never seen you smile before.” She cringed as she said it and Levi’s snort mimicked the horse behind them. He let her observation marinade under the moonlight.

“Happiness shows itself in different ways.” He mused and the corners of her lips upturned smally at her silliness.

“I just can’t imagine what you and Y/N have to go through.” She said with the careful articulation of a confession.

“D-did you see it happen?” She asked apprehensively. The nightmare scape tore through his cornea and implanted itself as if he was seeing it vividly again.

“No.” He exhaled.

The mass of flesh reeked of steamed rotted meat in the background of your shuddering form blanketed in torn cloth and soaked in sticky blood. His feet were caught in a time loop, too slow to reach you but too fast to wrap his mind around the potential discovery of your demise. His knees burned against the fabric of his trousers as they slid on the viscous ground to you. Your eyes were open wide and even though they were looking right at him, they went right through him like he was transparent against the skyline. The titan and you shared a bed of grass but by the walls not a resting place.

“But I saw the one that did it to her.” He continued as he blinked away the flash of mental scar tissue. “Her blade was lodged into its neck and it was bleeding profusely from its eye.”

Felicia winced at his description.

“She’s grown so strong.” Her whimper got lodged in her throat.

Little lanterns perched on the exterior of modest cottages floated into existence on both sides of the road as they neared Felicia’s neighborhood.

“How long have you known Y/N and Oma?” He asked to change the conversation for the sake of both their emotional turmoil. Felicia brightened up a bit at his term for her mistress.

“Since I was very young.” She smiled the weight right off of Levi’s shoulders. “My parents worked for Oma and her husband. I became Y/N’s babysitter or sorts, and by default many times Jean’s too, then the housekeeper to make some money.”

Levi recounted her reaction to the photo of Jean earlier and decided to attempt to lighten the mood like the wispy moss that dangled over their heads.

“Jean is single.” He revealed and eyed her in muted amusement for her reaction. Felicia turned beet red, the statement adding an extra sheepish pop to her step.

“O-oh, that’s hard for me to believe.” She laughed awkwardly.

“Really?” Levi replied without a drop or sarcasm. He understood why you put up with the boy because you had been friends for so long. But he would forever wonder how mentally stable the person who would willingly date him was.

Felicia gulped as his question hung out to try on the overarching maple branches.

“W-well, I mean-he’s funny, considerate, determined-”

“Determined to keep his long face up my asshole.” Levi finished her musings, dodging a moth as it flew too close to his nose. Felicia giggled at his half-assed insult.

“Determination, no matter what the kind, is a handsome quality.”

Levi hummed at her sincere answer. Her excitement over the boy rubbed warm circles into his chest. It reminded himself of his blooming feelings for you.

“When was the last time you saw him?” He asked as Felicia led him down a left fork in the road.

“Oh, a little less than a year ago? He and Y/N don’t get to come home a lot, you know.”

Their conversation was concluded in the middle of the road when Felicia halted in front of a beige cottage.

“This is me.” Her grin pushed up the apples of her cheeks and she cheesily pointed to the home. Levi nodded once and watched as she delicately climbed up the steps, deftly avoiding the garden rocks in the darkness until she reached her porch.

“Thank you for walking me here. You’ll be okay finding your way back?” She affirmed as she turned her key into the lock. Levi nodded once more and she breathed out a timid laugh.

“Alright, good night Levi.” She smiled sweetly.

“Goodnight.”

“Goodnight Big...um.” She turned to Puddle and wrinkled her nose.

“Shit.” Levi finished with crinkled eyes.

“Sh...shit.” She blurted and danced in place as if she had uttered a tremendous sin. Levi waited until she was halfway inside when she surprised him by returning to his presence. She paused, the light emanating from the open door allowing them to see each other clearly. She threw him a genuine smile that made him feel naked in the pale night.

“You know, you fit in really well here.”

Levi twirled the circlets of metallic promises between his fingers as he let the warmth of this evening’s reactions carry him home.

Fuck, did he just think home ?

In such a short amount of time, these gardens of tulips and those that harvest them had uprooted the numbness he had trained himself to harbor. He’d now gotten a sickeningly sweet taste of life and it was going to be hard for him to not grow addicted to it. The rings began to feel too heavy for him to carry and he placed them securely back in his pocket as he neared the estate.

With Puddle contained for the moment, he tapped his dirtied boots against the doormat and stepped into the living room. His feet sank deep into the fertilizer as he looked upon Oma. She had fallen asleep curled into the sofa, her empty tea cup cuddled into her embrace and the photo album discarded on the adjacent cushion.

He felt oddly like an intruder as he gingerly released the cup from her grasp. Felt the peculiar stab of domestic alienation when he draped the crocheted blanket over her. This was what home was supposed to resemble. Not a sullen room with a single bed and a mother called upon only to come home a wilted flower with her petals torn. Levi was knee deep in the garden soil now and he dove further and further into the dirt every passing day he spent here.

He tiptoed up the creaky steps, shed your father’s clothes in exchange for more appropriate sleepwear, and gravitated to your room. The armchair screeched dully against the flooring as he brought it closer to your bed. And he allowed himself to dream of living for once instead of just existing.

You fit in really well here.

Morning arrived on the chaotic wings of angry sparrows and a pleasant plush heat on his back. Levi groaned as he felt his back scream at him for his hunched over position. He clutched the blanket to his body as he stretched out the kinks. He rubbed the fluffy material between his fingers as he groggily recalled that he definitely didn’t go to sleep with this. As he sat up a light fluttering fell to the ground from his shoulder. Looking to the floor he noticed a note. He bent down to retrieve it and held it close to his sandy eyes.

I let you sleep in today because you need it-don’t deny it.

I’m off to get Felicia and we’re stopping by the apothecary on the way home but we shouldn’t be too long.

Here’s a blanket.

You don’t want your body to be as cold as your heart <3.

Oma

Levi rested his head on his blanket covered palm, nuzzling into the softness as he sighed in mild contentment.

“I lied-I understand how the two of you are related.” Levi whispered lightly towards you, the sounds as airy as the birds tapping at the glass.

It was another beautifully scenic day dressed in another of your father’s outfits babysitting another kettle of tea. Levi peeked out the kitchen window and wondered if everyday in this countryside was euphoric. But rather than basking in the lovely weather he opted to spend his morning tea with the one whose absence left this house just short of paradise.

He was careful to not clank the tray around as he reentered your room and spread open the curtains. However, the moment his fingers pulled the fabric apart the little winged rats announced their presence rather aggressively.

“Fuck off.” Levi threatened with a flick to the glass. His finger came back coated in dust.

"Felicia is a fucking disappointment of a cleaner."

And so the morning was spent sipping on temporary relief and gazing at the embodiment of comfort in your bed until his cup grew vacant. His chair creaked with age as he abandoned his post to refill his energy source.

Time slowed as it did two days ago and it was a miracle he avoided burning his fingers. They froze on the hot kettle as he was electrocuted by a weak gasp.

“Lee-” A desperately familiar voice with the body of a crumb murmured. He whipped around to see his most treasured blend of colors open up into his being.

Conscious.

Looking at him.

Actually at him.

The china fell from his petrified fingers and hit the rug with a bounce.

“Le-vi”

#levi #levi x reader #LEVI ACKERMAN #Levi Heichou #Levi fanfiction #levi fluff #aot #snk #snk x reader #attack on titan #attack on titan fanfiction #shingeki no kyojin #Jean Kirschstein #bisexual jean #levi/reader #hange zoe #aot fluff

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