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lalaangeldust · 3 years

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𝐰𝐡𝐞𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐲'𝐫𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐟𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐧𝐝 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐡𝐚𝐯𝐞 𝐚 𝐜𝐫𝐮𝐬𝐡 𝐨𝐧 𝐲𝐨𝐮

𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐜𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐧𝐬 & 𝐫𝐚𝐦𝐛𝐥𝐞𝐬

[ 𝘄𝗮𝗿𝗻𝗶𝗻𝗴𝘀 ] : none :)

[ 𝗳𝗲𝗮𝘁𝘂𝗿𝗶𝗻𝗴 ] : kaminari denki // bakugo katsuki // sero hanta

𝐤𝐚𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐚𝐫𝐢 𝐝𝐞𝐧𝐤𝐢

ah yes, the bakusquad's resident pretty boy

he would definitely be the most obvious about his crush

two words: shitty flirting

horrible pick-up lines and just overall bad flirting

he pulls through sometimes though ( with sero's advice ) and his ego inflates through the roof if he can get you flustered and blushing

but if you give him the same energy, he will immediately combust

all function out the window

congratulations, you broke denki

none of your possessions are safe when denki is within the vicinity

shirts, hoodies, skirts, hats, jewelry, hair accessories

if he can grab it, he will have it

he has worn / stolen everything in your closet at least once, if not it is most definitely his goal

it does not matter if he fits it or not, he will make it work

he has no shame

but one time he stretched out one of your favorite skirts and it tore a bit and he felt soooo bad

"it not my fault i have a fat ass, y/n"

but he brought you to the mall on a date with him to get a new one, so it's all works out ;)

denki honestly just lives to make you laugh

every time he's the reason you're laughing, it makes his chest puff up so big

DONT EVEN GET ME STARTED ON MF TICKLING

if you two are close, he will without a doubt start a mock wrestling match and it always turns into a tickling fit with you pinned underneath him and wailing

but do NOT under any circumstances tickle him

he with shriek like a girl and accidentally activate his quirk

you nearly died

HE FELT BAD FOR THAT TOO

he's also just so infatuated with like- everything you do????

it doesn't matter how mundane you think it might be, as long as you're doing it, denki is so enthralled watching whatever it is you're doing

it's rather endearing

in all honesty, he'd probably blurt out he likes you outta no where while in the middle of a convo

he lights up every time your name is so much as mentioned

or- or

he'd be day dreaming, completely lost in his own world and someone would come up to him and ask him what he's thinking ab cus he looks basically dead to the world

still in a daze from being abruptly brought back to reality he'd just dreamily sigh, "y/n~" without even realizing

mans was SO embarrassed afterwards

face was beet red

*frantically looks around to see if you heard him or not*

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bonus: love languages!!

physical touch // giving

words of affirmation // receiving

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𝐛𝐚𝐤𝐮𝐠𝐨 𝐤𝐚𝐭𝐬𝐮𝐤𝐢

he's so emotionally constipated

that's not to say we wouldn't know he'd have feelings for you

he's actually pretty emotionally intelligent, and would be very perceptive of your emotions contrary to popular belief, he's just oblivious to his own feelings and emotions

he'd just ignore them

try his best to ignore you

key word try

but he always gives in and he'd make up dumb reasons to come bother you like-

he'd barge into your dorm while you're studying and he'd be like

"y/n i need a pen,"

"oh? uh ok, here you can have this one," you hand him a pen that you happened to have tucked behind your ear

"no not that one,"

...????

"can't you go to momo and ask her to make the pen you want..?"

bakugo starts to get grumpy at this point lmao

"no, she doesn't know how to make it,"

"well, what pen do you want..??"

bakugo hesitates cus he doesn't wanna admit that he doesn't actually want a pen, he wants to be with you

"that one," he lamely points at a beat up tinkerbell pen that you've had since you were like twelve

"really?? out of all the pens you choose that one?"

"shut up and just get it"

"... you can grab it,"

he goes and grabs it and goes to walk out the door without a word and right before he leaves he leans back and looks at you

"i need a pencil"

"OH MY GOD BAKUGO"

he kept the tinkerbell pen btw

like denki, bakugo would steal things from your dorm and not just anything, things that are actually inconvenient to misplace

he'd take your bobby pin container or your favorite brush so you'd come to him to ask where it went, he'd give it back ofc but not without a fight

he'd act totally clueless and he'd wait till you actually start to get pissed to tell you where he actually put your thing

so back to how he'd actually be very aware of your emotions

he'd notice the smallest changes and can always tell when you're upset but he wouldn't exactly know how to help you

so instead of using words, he'd use actions

you had a really bad day and he walked you to your dorm and when he came in he's like

"shit, your dorm is a fucking disaster, how do you live like this," you scowl at bakugo cus like- wtf i'm rlly emotional here you're not helping

he scoffs and bends down to start picking up your shit

"seriously, i have no idea how you find anything in here, nothing is organized" and he'd just keeps grumbling like an old man while completely cleaning and reorganizing your room

dont you dare try and help him though, he will yell at you

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bonus: love languages!!

acts of service // giving

quality time // receiving

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𝐬𝐞𝐫𝐨 𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐭𝐚

I'VE BEEN WAITING FOR THIS ONE

sero SCREAMS besfriends to lovers troupe

like- you two are already practically dating without even realizing it

the romantic tension

you guys banter and flirt with eachother so often, you both have no idea whether you're serious when you jokingly call the other sexy or not

the oblivious idiots troupe

sero makes everything a competition

not nearly to extent as bakugo would, but still goes a bit over the top

he'd use anything as an excuse to show off for you

one time, like the spiderman fanboy he is, he challenged you to see who can hang upside down the longest without passing out ( literally the stupidest idea, sero, you're going to loose braincells )

sero won, obviously and he takes full advantage of bragging rights

everyone says how denki's the flirt and whatever but NO

sero is the biggest mf flirt and denki got his game from him

so with that being said, you are not safe

HE IS A BULLY

he respects boundaries of course but that doesn't mean he's not gonna try and test his limits a bit and mess with you

he's always trying to get you flustered

god forbid you're shorter than him because he will tease the shit outta you for it

when you two train together, mf goes on overdrive ESPECIALLY if you two happen to be sparring together

he'd hover over you and lean his face in ever so slightly while your talking to him just to get a rise outta you

TILT YOUR HEAD UP WITH ONE FINGER

"could you repeat that? i'm having a hard time hearing,"

SHEEEEEEEE

but you also make fun of him for being tall, so it checks out

whenever he says some slick shit you're just like-

"I'm sorry, what? That's funny coming from someone who's above the national average height. you're disgusting, tall man; shrink perhaps" ( if anyone knows what tiktok audio i'm referencing, i'm in love with you )

hope you have your casket ready because sero's gonna slaughter your ass for that shit

ok but one time while you two were partnered up for hero training, you got on his nerves and he tied you up and left you hanging and the mf just left

maaaan were you livid

15 minutes

15 minutes you were left up there while sero was doing god knows what

you gave him the silent treatment for the rest of the day and sero was genuinely distressed cus he didn't mean to make you so mad

but lucky for him, he always knows how to get you to smile no matter how sad or are or how angry you are with him

he shoots you a piece of tape with his handwriting on it

he made up some stupid, horribly written poem asking for your forgiveness and he's just looking at you the entire time you're reading it with an exaggerated pout

how can you say mad at him?

on the topic of him sending you notes on his tape

he'd totally leave pieces of his tape in really obscure places in your dorm or even under your desk

they'd be really stupid messages too like-

"you stink"

or a really random inside joke you two have that makes literally no sense but even just the thought of it makes you laugh to tears

he'd also leave little origami figures he made with his tape in random places for you to find too

or he'd just give them to you

you have a shelf specifically dedicated for the things sero has made for you ( and he's really touched you actually keep all his shitty arts and crafts projects )

in conclusion, sero is the best and he is my favorite and i'd die for him

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bonus: love languages!!

gift giving // giving

physical touch // giving and recieving

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If you guys want, i can elaborate on their love languages in another post! <3

𝒇𝒊𝒏 . ✩

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agerefandom · 3 years

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Restrained

Fandom: Death Note

Words: 4,150

Characters: Regressor!Light Yagami, Caregiver!L/Ryuzaki. Brief appearances from Soichiro Yagami, Shuichi Aizawa, and Watari.

Summary: Set during Light and Misa’s imprisonment (episode 16-17). Classification/Regressors Are Known AU: Light was classified as a regressor when he was fifteen, but has fought the identity ever since. L is classified as a caregiver, but has never used those skills further than calming people in interrogation situations. Things come to a head in the second month of Light’s imprisonment.

Warnings: Imprisonment, irresponsible use of restraints, mentions of death and murder, nightmares, panic attacks, involuntary regression, hidden regression being revealed non-consensually. Ominous ending.

Author’s Notes: I usually take issue with Classification AUs, because regression is a coping mechanism and not a fixed part of someone’s identity. Regression can change, and regressors can also be caregivers, and the idea that it could be ‘classified’ as part of someone’s political identity is kind of distressing. All of that said, it’s also a very comforting trope: it’s nice to imagine that you were ‘meant to be’ a regressor, naturally given that role, and that there are natural caregivers who want/need to take care of you. So, there are pros and cons to this kind of universe, as long as you remember that it’s an AU for a reason! Anyways, that’s my soapboxing done. Please note the warnings before reading!

Light was not a regressor.

It didn’t matter what the letter he received at age fifteen said. Didn’t matter that his age range was listed as ‘2-3’ and a permanent caregiver was recommended. Light Yagami was a neutral, collected, and precocious teenager. He was mature for his age, and always had been.

Admittedly, Light occasionally sucked his thumb to help him sleep. And he convinced his mother to buy him more expensive sheets because he liked to run his hands across the texture. And maybe he cast side-glances at the adult playgrounds all around the city, at the regressors who were happily running and playing on the swings.

But Light Yagami was not a regressor. He got top marks. He wore stiff, professional clothes. He didn’t cry, not even when he stubbed his toe. He turned his nose up at sweet drinks and packaged candy. In short, at seventeen, Light was a model young man.

Which was when the notebook fell outside his classroom window, and everything got a lot more complicated.

Could a regressor do this? Collectively bring the world to its knees, the news outlets humming with one story? Could a regressor kill hundreds, save the general population from the evil in its midst?

Light Yagami was Kira, and Kira was not an age regressor.

Light Yagami was not Kira.

Light was trapped in a cell, his arms shackled behind his back, and he was absolutely certain that he wasn’t Kira. What kind of idea was that, marching in and saying he thought he was subconsciously Kira? Absurd. He wouldn’t do that kind of thing.

He yelled at the ceiling, pleaded with Ryuzaki, and received cold answers in return.

How had Light sat here for a week, believing that Ryuzaki had been right to lock him away? It was absurd: he couldn’t have committed the murders without knowing at all, it just didn’t make sense.

“You told me to keep you in there, no matter what you said,” Ryuzaki repeated calmly, his voice crackling through the cheap speakers outside of Light’s cell. “I’m only doing what you told me.”

“Well, stop!” Light shouted, tugging uselessly against the leather cuffs that held his arms behind him. His shoulders ached from the position. “Listen to me now, I’m not Kira!”

“We don’t know that,” Ryuzaki said. “Until we can be sure, you will stay in that cell. I’m sorry, Light.”

Light felt tears well up in his eyes, and he jerked his head down to hide it. With his bangs hiding his expression, he tried to wrestle himself under control.

He felt scared and helpless and he just didn’t understand what he was doing here. Let me out! a voice was screaming inside him, younger and just as frightened as he was. Please, I can’t take it anymore!

What was he thinking? He was Light Yagami, part of the taskforce dedicated to catching Kira. He could withstand this. He would have to.

He didn’t bother to hide the tears as he raised his eyes again to the camera.

“Fine. I’ll stay. But you’ll see that I’m not Kira! I don’t know what’s happening, but I believe that my innocence will be proven one way or another.”

“That’s exactly what Kira would say,” Ryuzaki drawled into the microphone, and then there was a short sound of feedback as the conversation cut off.

Light rocked back to lean against the side of the bed, feeling exhausted but satisfied. He’d made his statement, and he had fought off the despair. He was Light Yagami, and he would deal with this imprisonment with all the dignity he could.

This was awful.

Light had never been so bored and anxious in his life. The days stretched on, with only Ryuzaki’s occasional check-ins to keep his mind busy. Out of lack for other things to do, Light started sleeping more than usual. His days were hazy, short bathroom trips out of the cell and the clatter of the food tray his only reference points for time. The lights shut off for seven hours every night, the cameras equipped with night vision to watch him toss and turn in his restraints.

There was nothing to do but ruminate, worry, wonder. Light tried to run through lectures in his head, even tried his hand at mentally writing a story. He wondered if he could convince Ryuzaki to play chess with him over the speaker system, but found himself worrying about whether that would make it seem like he wasn’t taking his imprisonment seriously.

It had been a month, and Light was suffering.

The nights were hardest. In the dark, Light cried, trying to stay quiet. He couldn’t bite his thumb, he couldn’t feel his soft blankets, and sometimes he couldn’t sleep for the tug of the restrains at his wrists and shoulders. He wanted to kick his legs, flail around, scream at the top of his lungs until they let him out. But he was Light Yagami, and he had dignity. Even with cameras fixed on him twenty-four hours a day, even with his wrists and ankles contained, even under the constant scrutiny of Ryuzaki and the other members of the task force.

He almost made it to the end.

Things that Light didn’t know:

-it had been a month since Kira had begun killing again -his father was in a matching jail cell, several blocks away -the task force had been pressuring L for weeks to let Light and Misa go, convinced by the new wave of murders that the two were innocent -L had a plan, and was simply waiting to contact Light’s father to play his part

(Light would never know most of these things, because before they became relevant, everything fell apart.)

L sat in the same place he’d been sitting for weeks, watching the same scenes play out on the same flickering screens. Misa sagged against her restraints, Light laid curled up on the bed, and Soichiro sat in his chair, staring down at his hands.

Nothing had changed, but everything was different.

Light and Misa were Kira, or at least they had been. L had never been more certain. Now they both seemed utterly convinced of their innocence, and L wasn’t comfortable with the implications of that. Were they truly ignorant of their role? Had their ability to kill been passed onto someone else, or had the two of them been unwitting puppets to some new and yet-unseen player?

Misa took a struggling breath, and went limp again. Light shifted. Soichiro got up and began to pace. His cell would fit eight of his steps before he had to turn around and begin again in the other direction.

L missed nothing. But the pieces weren’t coming together.

He tapped his fingers against his knees, a syncopated rhythm as his eyes flashed from one prisoner to the next. Watari had brought him a plate of fruit, not yet touched, with icing sugar sprinkled over them. They would make L’s fingers sticky, and he didn’t want to get juice on the controls. He would have to eat with one hand, and operate the microphones with his other. He was just about due his check-in with Misa-Misa.

Just as L began to reach for the berries, a movement on-screen caught his eye. He didn’t currently have the audio on for the cells, but from the visual, he would guess that Light just woke up screaming. L has had a few of those nightmares. They weren’t pleasant.

L switched the audio on, and listened to Light trying to calm himself down. He was talking out loud, a mutter only loud enough for the microphones inside his cell to pick up on. (Light always yelled to the camera when he was talking to L, as if he weren’t aware that the cell was bugged well enough to hear every last breath he took. They could take no risks with Kira, when they still didn’t know how he was committing the crimes.)

“I’m okay,” Light was muttering. “Don’t… don’t do this. I don’t need anything. I’m okay.” His breathing caught, paused, and then resumed. “I’m okay. Please, please- don’t.” His voice was trembling, and L leaned closer. He’d seen Light crying, of course, trying to hide it by turning away from the cameras. But this seemed… different. Light was on the edge of something, and if L was lucky, it might be some kind of confession, fuelled by a terrible dream that brought all of his crimes rushing back with the sudden weight of guilt that Kira never felt.

Yes, L had enough self-reflection to know that he was kidding himself. But it had been a long month and a half.

He remained crouching, one hand poised above the plate of strawberries and the other hand hovering above the microphone that would let him speak to Light. And he listened.

“I don’t wan’ do this,” Light whispered to himself, his words slurring together in a way that L had never heard from the other man. The distressed voice hooked its claws into his chest in a way that was both foreign and familiar. Was this… “I don’ wan’ do this,” Light repeated, and then burst into tears.

It wasn’t anything like the quiet, hidden tears of the night-time. Light was sobbing, pulling at his restraints, tossing on the bed. Unable to wipe them away, tears and snot made a mess of his face. L watched as the teenager struggled to his knees and pressed himself against the wall, as if he were trying to get some kind of comfort from the pressure. The tears wouldn’t stop, even as words started making their way through the sobs.

“Lemme out, I wan’ out, I can’t, I can’t. It’s too dark, I can’t. Please, I’m too… I can’t feel my hands!” Light wailed, collapsing in on himself, his shoulders straining against the cuffs.

L was dimly aware that his hands had dropped to his sides. He knew he was staring. He knew that Aizawa had come running to stand behind him, alerted by the cries coming through the speakers. His ears were ringing, and he could feel Light’s sobs in his own chest.

The truth was unavoidable: Light Yagami was a regressor, and L had not known.

How was that possible?

Light was registered as age-natural on his official documents. L had watched him for weeks, and he had shown no signs of regression, not at home when he was unaware of being observed, and not here in the prison cell. Until now.

This was a harsh involuntary regression, from the looks of it, and the part of L that had made them stamp ‘caregiver’ on his own documents was aching.

“Oh my god. Is Light a regressor?” Aizawa said behind him. “That looks like regression, right?”

“It isn’t on his file,” L said, pleased that his voice sounded even. He hadn’t been around a regressor in distress for a few years, and he’d forgotten how much it made his chest hurt. Knowing that he’d been the one to put Light in that situation made it worse. Rationally, he knew that Light being a regressor meant nothing to the investigation. In fact, it made L even more certain that he was Kira. To conceal his headspace that thoroughly, even under investigation, made it clear that Light was no ordinary teenager. That must have taken an immense amount of willpower and planning.

“You have to let him out,” Aizawa said. “You can’t hold a regressor in a place like that, and his innocence has already been proven.” Light was still sobbing, his harsh breaths providing an undercurrent to their conversation. “Ryuzaki, you can’t possibly let that continue.”

“I… think he knew this might happen,” L realized. “This is what he meant when he asked me not to let him out, whatever happened. He knew that he would regress under the pressure.”

“All the more reason to release him! He still doesn’t know that Kira is killing again, it’s not fair. You’ve put him under way too much stress. Let me talk to him.” Aizawa reached for the microphone, and L struck his hand away.

“No. The last thing he needs is more sensory input from the speaker system.” Aizawa recoiled from the physical interception, eyes wide. “And you could jeopardize the investigation,” L added, slightly belated.

“You can’t do this. I’ll call the rest of the team,” Aizawa threatened, reaching into his pocket.

“There’s no need for that,” L sighed. He knew that the rest of the team would agree with Aizawa. The legal system was more lenient for regressors, and keeping them in solitary confinement was widely considered cruel. “I’ll go myself.”

Just because Light couldn’t be held in the cell anymore didn’t mean that L was prepared to let him go without twenty-four-hour supervision. Luckily, he had a set of unusually long handcuffs that he’d already been prepared to use after Light’s release. He could just speed that process along… and tell Watari to order some more regressor-friendly accessories for their room, of course. Maybe pad the cuff that Light would wear, so he didn’t accidentally hurt himself.

L shook his head, pushing his chair back from the table with a sigh. His caregiver mind was getting in the way again. Light was Kira, regressor or no. He wasn’t keeping Light close so that he could take care of him, but so that he was unable to hurt anyone else.

“We’ll discuss Misa’s release when I return,” L added over his shoulder as he headed for the door, reaching into his pocket to call Watari with the car. Light’s prison was a short drive from the base, and the sooner L got there, the better.

Sure enough, the drive was agony.

L stared out the window, the seatbelt Watari had forced him to wear digging into his chest and disrupting his thoughts. He was trying to make plans, trying to think back to all of his interactions with Light and wonder if he should have known. Was that why Light had always sharply refused any kind of sweet drink, even something as simple as fruit juice? Was he afraid that he might slip into regression? Was that why he had been crying at night, quietly regressing just enough for his childish fears to come to the surface? How confused was he, how disoriented in the cell? He seemed to know he was trapped, but did he remember what he was accused of?

L barely noticed when the car came to a stop, but when Watari opened his door for him, it took genuine effort not to go running into the building. Instead, L moved even slower than he usually would. Each gesture would be planned. Each word intentional. Just because Light was a regressor, it didn’t mean he wasn’t dangerous. L had to be on his guard, even more because of his natural caregiver instincts.

He made his way down the cold concrete stairwell, Watari a few paces behind him. Hands tucked in his pockets, breathing slow and natural. No worries about what he might have missed in the two minutes he’d been away from the screens. Had Light hurt himself? Was he safe? Was he still crying? L should have brought water, he’s sure to be dehydrated-

They stepped onto the cell block, and L had a brief conversation with one of the guards to obtain the keys. He’d already texted ahead, and they knew to expect him.

Watari stayed behind, just within earshot as L padded down the line of empty cells to the one that held Light.

It was strange to see the cell in person. For the first time, L could see the camera that Light had shouted at so often. He could see the details of the walls more clearly here, the chipped tile of the bathroom corner and the scratches in the concrete that didn’t come through on the long-distance video feed.

And there was Light, curled into a ball on the bed with his knees drawn up to his chest and his arms still tied behind him, much in the same position that he had been napping in before his nightmare.

L had approached soundlessly, and Light’s eyes were closed. He didn’t open them until L put the key into the lock and turned it.

“N—no, I don’t-” Light stuttered, and then looked up. “Ryuzaki? Ryuzaki!” He tried to get up, but the cuffs on his ankles made him stumble and fall. L heard his knees hit the concrete with a harsh crack, and Light teared up again. “No, no, don’t come in. M’sorry, don’t come in.”

“I’ll let you out of the cuffs,” L told him, his hand on the door but waiting to open it.

“No, I don’t want it,” Light managed. “Just… go.”

“Light, how old are you?” L pressed.

Light made a sound that resembled a squeak, and very slowly raised his eyes to L’s.

“How old are you right now?” L asked again. He watched Light’s expression twist from surprise to embarrassment to conflict, then Light started crying again.

“I don’t wanna be,” Light sobbed. “I don’ wan’ it.”

And there went L’s chest again, twisting and aching with the sound of a regressor in distress. He regulated his voice, unwilling to let it sound too caring. It came out flat instead.

“There’s no shame in regressing, Light. Two percent of the population isn’t an insignificant number. You’ll be more comfortable with your arms free.” Light shook his head, tears flying with the gesture.

“No! Don’t come in!”

“How old are you, Light? You’re young, I can tell that much. Probably in the toddler range, if I had to guess.” From Light’s glare through the tears, L had hit the nail on the head. “I thought so. Stop fighting me. I was going to let you out soon anyways.” Well, L hadn’t been meant to say that. But he could probably use that to his advantage.

“But… but you think I’m Kira,” Light mumbled. Interesting: he did have his full memories, then. Very little disorientation for such a young age range.

“I do,” L admitted. “But the taskforce doesn’t. They want you back on the team.”

“Me?” Light blinked up at him, and his eyes were even wider than usual, framed with perfect dark lashes, and L was in agony being separated by bars. This regressor was going to be the death of him. “But… I thought the bad things stopped ‘cause I was here.”

L was fascinated by the limits of Light’s mental reasoning while he was regressed. He would have to do some experimentation at a later time, but for now…

“I lied. Kira has been active for almost a month. I wasn’t convinced it meant you were innocent, but it makes a good case.” L watched that news hit home, but in a very different way than it would have hit an adult Light.

“You lied? Why? I thought… I thought I was bad, maybe, but you were lying!” Light tried to wipe his tears on his shoulder, only partially succeeding. “I don’ wanna know why. Probably a good reason, ‘cause you’re L and you do all the good things.”

Hmm. It seemed that Light’s certainty that he wasn’t Kira didn’t extend to his regressed self. Perhaps he was speaking more candidly in this headspace.

“I’m not fond of unnecessary cruelty,” L sighed, hooking one hand through the bars. “If I had known, Light-”

“You never woulda had me on the task force,” Light said, quite viciously. “Never ever.”

“That’s not true.” L traced one thumb against his lips. “I’ve known regressors who are exceedingly intelligent. Everything would have proceeded the same.”

“Even though I’m three?” Light asked, and L fought the urge to smile. Information, at last. Three. He stored that away.

“Even though you’re three,” L confirmed. “Your input is valuable to me. In fact, I would like to invite you back to the taskforce after you’ve recovered from this imprisonment.”

“Yes!” Light shuffled forwards on his knees, wincing at the movement. He probably bruised them earlier when he fell. “Yes, please! I wanna help catch Kira! And all the bad guys!” His eyes were shining with excitement and the tears from earlier. Looking down at him, L’s mind caught in a loop.

Light Yagami was Kira, but this… this was not Kira. What that meant about Light, or Kira, or the nature of Light’s regression, L couldn’t say, but he was certain of one thing.

“Can I come in now?” L asked.

Light visibly hesitated, then sank back onto his heels and nodded.

“Thank you.” L left the keys in the lock as he swung open the door and entered, making his way to Light briskly. It was easy enough to get the cuffs off his wrists, and Light whined when his hands were free, struggling to move his shoulders back into a natural position. “Give it time,” L advised, pressing at his spine with experienced fingers. Massages were one of his lesser-used skills, but easy to pick up with his wide knowledge of the human body. “They’ll hurt less in a few minutes.”

He wasn’t expecting Light to shift forward and wrap his arms around him, but that was exactly what happened.

L froze, his hands raised in the air as if in surrender. He’d comforted regressors before, at crime scenes and over interrogation tables. A few of the children at the orphanage were regressors, and he interacted with them when he visited. But none of them had dove into a hug like this. L was a detective, a mentor, a little too strange and intense to be approachable. Now there were arms wrapped around him, holding him tightly, and L didn’t know what to do.

Falteringly, L returned the embrace, the tips of his fingers resting lightly on his own forearms. Light had lost weight over the last month, and his body felt almost frail against L.

“Had a nightmare,” Light whispered.

L wondered if Aizawa was listening, back at the base. He wondered if Watari had wandered closer, after hearing the cell door open. He wondered what kind of things Kira dreamed about.

“Do you want to talk about it?” L asked, and didn’t lean back from the embrace.

“It was bad,” Light said. “I was running, and there were hands, and a fence, an’ there were… bodies. On the fence. And they were… they were…” L could feel Light shaking, and he held the regressor just a little bit closer.

“Just a dream,” L said. He wondered how much blood was on Light’s hands, how much of it he remembered. “You’re safe now. It was just a dream.” L held Light in his arms, the ache in his chest finally fading as he looked down at him. There, the regressor was safe, and L could finally relax. Light’s breathing slowly evening out, his grasp on L’s shirt finally loosening. “You’re safe.”

Light blinked up at L sleepily, and then his eyes slid closed. A natural reaction to stress, and having a caregiver close by. Even if L hadn’t disclosed his classification, his actions combined with Light’s instincts had likely made it clear. L cradled Light in his arms, like a puzzle piece fitting into place, and watched him fall asleep. He would have no more nightmares with a caregiver so close by, and even if he did, L would be there to calm him down.

L knew that this was trouble. Light was Kira, and Kira was death. L’s instincts as a caregiver could only blind him further as he continued in the investigation. If he were being rational, he would attach Light to someone else for the rest of his surveillance period. Prevent the caregiver/regressor bond that had been formed between them from strengthening into something difficult to break.

But L didn’t like being rational. He followed his instincts, and they were always right.

Right now, his instincts told him two things.

I will not let go of Light Yagami.

This will be the death of me.

#death note agere #fandom agere #agere writing #agere fanfiction #agere stories #my writing #death note

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pumpkinpaix · 4 years

Note

HI! I'm new to the MDZS fandom and I fell in love with Suibian, but you don't see it that much. I seen somewhere that it would burn out a weaker core and I cried cause I wanted to see that, and as far as I know it doesn't happen anywhere. I'm wondering if you could tell me anything and everything you know about Suibian. I'm starving for anything about it

hi anon! ahahah, it’s always a dangerous thing to ask me about “anything and everything” on a topic because I usually have too many thoughts, most of which are unorganized. but! if you’re interested in that, then here we go!

First, re: your comment about Suibian burning out a weaker core: I am not aware of this theory (or is it something from an interview?? if someone knows, please say so!), but if it brings you joy, then it’s certainly an interesting one to consider! Unfortunately, I don’t have much more to say on it because I’m unfamiliar with it, but I do have quite a lot to say on some other Suibian concepts!

ask and ye shall receive (a very jumbled heap of thoughts as i spiral further and further out of control):

[all rough translations are mine, and thus all mistakes are mine. I am using the version of the novel that is available on luoxia because I can’t be bothered to go flipping through my print edition ahaha.]

the questions about Suibian that interest me the most are why it sealed, when it sealed, when Wei Wuxian began to wield it again, and what that might all mean. I’m going to be talking about novel, CQL, and audio drama canon all together, because I think looking at each canon alone and in combination can raise a lot of very different points!! (I have not watched the donghua or read the manhua yet, so forgive me, I have nothing to say about them. /o\)

So! the one piece of information that we’re given consistently throughout all three of the canons is that Suibian was sealed after Wei Wuxian’s death and that no one but Wei Wuxian himself (and Jiang Cheng, by proxy) could draw it from its sheathe. Thus, Wei Wuxian’s identity is revealed and the golden core swap comes to light. Wei Wuxian is surprised by this, and asks Lan Wangji, “Did it really seal itself?” (novel, chapter 63; CQL, ep 42; audio drama, S2E15).

The novel and audio drama both include a line from Wei Wuxian that emphasizes Wei Wuxian’s surprise, implying that sword-sealing is very uncommon:

万中无一的大好事竟然让我给撞上了

Something incredible that happens less than once per ten thousand times, and I actually encountered it.

the irony, of course, is that this incredible thing is what ended up blowing his cover. rip Wei Wuxian.

but what I think gets really interesting is comparing different points at which Suibian sealed itself and what that might imply in conjunction with other information. Jin Guangyao says “shortly after” his death, but CQL includes a scene in episode 19 that implies that Suibian actually sealed itself much earlier.

[ID: Gif from episode 19 of the untamed drama. Lan Wangji attempts to draw Suibian after he and Jiang Cheng storm the Nightless City and retrieve their swords. He cannot pull it from the sheathe. /end ID]

(in case anyone is curious, it’s about 30 minutes in. I spent the effort to make the gif, so I might as well give you the timestamp lol)

this scene takes place during the period of time when Wei Wuxian is in the Mass Graves (aka the Burial Mounds) after Wen Chao cast him down and left him for dead, right near the beginning of Sunshot. I’m fairly certain it’s not mentioned in either the novel or the audio drama, so this is a CQL-only detail. (please correct me if I’m wrong; I get my canons muddled all the time //hides face)

CQL basically does nothing narratively with this scene other than giving us some sad shots of Lan Wangji and Jiang Cheng (honestly, valid ;A;) but!! if we decide to accept this scene as our jumping off point, we can get to some interpretations about Wei Wuxian using information from the other canons!

take this exchange from chapter 57 of the novel (immediately prior to the massacre at lotus cove):

江澄道：“还不是又为咱们的剑的事去温家了。一想到我的三毒现在说不定被哪只温狗握在手里，真是……”

他面露嫌恶之色，魏无羡道：“可惜咱们的剑还不够灵，要是能自动封剑，那就谁也别想用了。”

江澄道：“你再修炼个八十年，说不定可以。”

Jiang Cheng said, “He’s gone to the Wen sect regarding our swords again, hasn’t he. Whenever I think that my Sandu might even now be in some Wen-dog’s hands, ugh…”

His face filled with loathing, Wei Wuxian said, “What a pity our swords don’t have enough spirit. If they could seal themselves, then no one could even think about using them.”

Jiang Cheng said, “If you kept cultivating for another eighty years, maybe.”

from the novel, it seems clear that sword-sealing is something that only happens when a person’s cultivation level is exceptionally high. if this is true, and we go with the CQL timeline of Suibian sealing itself long before Wei Wuxian’s death, it means that Wei Wuxian’s cultivation level wasn’t just high, it was leagues above pretty much anyone else when he was still a teenager. (In fact, Suibian had most likely already sealed by the time this conversation takes place.)

If we don’t go with CQL’s timeline, however, I think we could make a very different argument. It’s a bit of a reach, but I think it’s a lot of fun, if you’re willing to come with me on this journey!

Jin Guangyao says Suibian sealed itself “shortly after” Wei Wuxian’s death, but we don’t really have external confirmation of that. For all we know, someone only bothered to test it sometime after his death, and Suibian had been sealed for some indefinite amount of time. All we can say for sure is that by some point shortly after Wei Wuxian’s death, Suibian was already sealed and resisted being drawn by anyone who tried it.

We’re told over and over that one can only wield a spiritual sword effectively if you have a golden core/the spiritual energy to match it. Wei Wuxian stops carrying/using Suibian because he knows that in his hands, it will act as nothing more than an ordinary sword. His method of cultivation is no longer suitable for the sword. Suibian is tied to both Wei Wuxian’s soul and his golden core.

If sword-sealing only happens when the cultivator’s level is unbelievably high, then I think we can make the argument here that by the time of his death, Wei Wuxian’s core was likewise unbelievably strong – but Wei Wuxian is no longer the one developing his core. Jiang Cheng is.

I know it’s a ridiculous reach. To be clear, I don’t think the text actually intends this or supports this in any meaningful way, but I do think that it gives us some very tasty potential!! If Suibian sealed itself sometime after the core transfer (which, honestly, we wouldn’t know – after all, who’s been trying to draw Wei Wuxian’s sword?), but just if, I think we can plausibly make the argument that Jiang Cheng’s cultivation is truly extraordinary.

:DDDDDDDD

It’s fun right?? It’s a fun concept!!! Even if it’s nonsense, even if it’s not that deep, even if this was an unintentional coincidence, I think it would be interesting to look at this as being some kind of measure of Jiang Cheng’s accomplishments. On the flip side, I also think it’s very important thematically that Jiang Cheng’s value as a person has nothing to do with his cultivation, that he is, in fact, always second-best, but that doesn’t make him any less worthwhile or deserving of love. Maybe I’m just projecting lmao. Of course, being extraordinary doesn’t preclude him from still lagging behind Wei Wuxian–Wei Wuxian might have just been more extraordinary ahahah. We can have both!!

Now for a totally different thing! Interestingly, this conversation about cultivation levels and sword-sealing (the one with Jiang Cheng) also happens in the audio drama, S2E12 (about 15 minutes in, since I just checked), but Wei Wuxian adds an additional comment:

(don’t have the transcription of the original chinese, I’m just going to translate it as I hear it)

“But maybe you don’t need to cultivate to a certain level to have your sword seal itself. What if there were some other way?”

these two versions of the conversation actually imply pretty different things, I think! this addition opens the possibility to the audience that sword-sealing is possible even without an extraordinary level of cultivation, and I think lends credence to the idea that Suibian is just an unusually loyal sword, regardless of Wei Wuxian’s cultivation level. Whether that’s something inherent to Suibian’s “personality”, or whether this says something about how Wei Wuxian inspires loyalty wherever he goes, or whether it just speaks to the strength of their bond remains to be seen.

(obviously, this could imply any number of other things as well, but I find this to be the interpretation that makes me happiest.)

If we go with “Suibian seals itself after Wei Wuxian’s death” in this canon, I think this emphasizes the loyalty aspect with a touch of grief.

If we combine this with CQL and have “Suibian has been loyal since he was a teenager”, that also emphasizes the loyalty aspect – just in a different way.

Of course, doing meta combining unique details from different canons is largely pointless in terms of crafting any real “analysis”, so I’m mostly saying all of this because I enjoy the process of building the supercanon in my head that brings me the most joy! To summarize the varied interpretations I’ve brought up in this post:

CQL-only: Suibian sealed itself when Wei Wuxian was a teenager, at latest, by the time he was thrown into the Mass Graves.

Novel-only: Sword-sealing is very rare and achievable only through extraordinarily high cultivation. Shortly after Wei Wuxian’s death, Suibian is discovered to have sealed itself, so Wei Wuxian’s core, by the time of his death, was extraordinarily powerful.

Audio drama-only: Sword-sealing is considered very rare and achievable only through extraordinarily high cultivation, but might also be accomplished by other methods. Shortly after Wei Wuxian’s death, Suibian is discovered to have sealed itself. If Wei Wuxian’s core is not wildly and improbably powerful, this implies that Suibian has become an exceptionally loyal sword by the time of his death.

CQL/novel: Wei Wuxian was already incredibly powerful by the time he was a teenager.

CQL/audio drama: Suibian has been exceptionally loyal to Wei Wuxian since at least his teenage years.

Novel and audio drama-only have a much wider range of when Suibian could have sealed itself, as mentioned, so there are further variances within those interpretations.

there’s a lot of potential here!! with my personal feelings regarding the story, I like novel-only with Suibian sealing post-core transfer, audio drama-only with Suibian sealing post-Wei Wuxian’s death, or CQL/audio drama with Suibian sealing as a teenager pretty much all equally. I think the CQL/novel interpretation gets too close to casting Wei Wuxian as a hyper-special and innately noble individual in a way that undercuts the strength of his character arc, but that’s my opinion. (As an aside, this is actually one of my major complaints about CQL in general, independent from what I’m talking about here. But that is a topic for another day ahahaha. To be clear, I still love CQL very much, despite my many frustrations!)

As for what I think is the most “likely” to be the “right” interpretation (whatever that’s worth), I would probably say the one that emphasizes Suibian’s loyalty with Suibian sealing post-death, because I think it’s the most thematically cohesive and has the textual support to back it. (I think it’s a valid interpretation even using novel-only text; it’s just slightly less explicit without the additional comment from Wei Wuxian.)

A final detail:

We don’t get anything from either CQL or the novel that explicitly addresses when/if Wei Wuxian is able to wield Suibian again, but the audio drama’s rendition of the “Yunmeng” extra very subtly indicates that by the time that extra takes place, Wei Wuxian has cultivated a golden core and is carrying his sword once more. You only get it at a couple of moments, but Suibian sometimes clinks when Wei Wuxian moves or when he bumps into something. The two instances I can remember specifically are when Lan Wangji tosses the ring onto him (the ring hits Suibian), and when he’s rowing the little boat onto the lotus pond and the motion makes a sound. It’s!!! Extremely good!!! It makes my heart very full!!!!!

ANYWAYS, if all of my scattered rambling didn’t fill the Suibian-shaped hole in your heart, I would also like to recommend @zeldacw‘s wonderful WangQingSuiChen series of comics, featuring anthropomorphized versions of Wangji guqin, Chenqing, Suibian, and Bichen. I believe the most recent comic is here, and there are links to the rest of the comics in the post. If you just want her general tag for the AU (which is more than just the comics), it’s here!

If you have interest in listening to the audio drama yourself, you can purchase it through the MissEvan app (Mao’er FM). There are buying instructions linked in this post! If you need English subtitles, @suibiansubs is the group that does them. :)

I really can’t recommend the audio drama enough, tbh, it’s really really dear to my heart, and the team clearly worked so hard and cared so deeply for the story they were trying to tell. Consider this my regularly scheduled plug for the audio drama ahaha.

As always, my meta is my meta and if you don’t vibe with it, that’s chill! I change my opinions constantly (I think I changed them like three times in the course of writing this ahahaha), and I know some of my older meta has been making the rounds and every time I see it I think about all the ways my views have shifted since I wrote it rip. For this post moreso than usual, I want to emphasize that pretty much all of the meta included in this is meant to explore intriguing what-if possibilities, not for serious literary analysis purposes. I am aware that a lot of this is reaching/overinterpreting into implications that probably aren’t there. I just think they’re fun to consider!

so this was a mess, but I hope you or someone out there enjoyed it anon!!

(ko-fi, if you’re so moved)

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thelovelyghostwriter · 3 years

Note

just wanna throw it out there, i don’t know where you watched it, but neferpitou is never referred to as her in the subs that i saw, like not even once that i can think of

Hello. Well, of course, our experiences are different.

My memory is a little hazy, but I first watched it on Kissanime (or is it Gogoanime?) several years ago. The second time watching it was on Singapore Netflix, which only has the Eng/Chinese subtitles and Japanese/Mandarin audio back in 2018/9.

Now, I cannot remember if the Kissanime referred to Pitou as a her, and the site was shut down already, though I do remember the subs referencing Pitou as a mother cat. Back then, I actually thought Pitou was a girl because of the appearance and the mother cat, until sometime a year later, I found out that the manga and anime had discrepancies.

For the Netflix one, I must say, the English subtitles are different and inaccurate (we had the full series really early). I remember rewatching this and I think they referred to Alluka as a "she" throughout, even with characters other than Killua, although they had referred to Alluka as a "brother". I had to explain to my friends because they just assumed Alluka is biologically female. I think they also used "she" for Pitou (again, this is 2 to 3 years ago, my memory is super hazy). I could check again, but currently, I'm too busy to check the episodes.

Maybe I had made a mistake with that phrasing, although I'm not sure what phrase I should use instead as data collection is still ongoing. I need to be careful when editing it, as it might affect the charts. I may have to fix the phrasing, but right now, I’m out of ideas and I’m open to anyone who have suggestions.

Now that has gotten out of the way, let me share with you my thought processes on Pitou in this survey.

Please note that I am aware that anon just wants to tell me this information, and I am willing to take any questions and clarify anything. I am only taking this opportunity to clear up any potential questions by ensuring that everyone who is interested understands the decision I had made when it comes to Pitou, since the question is in regards to Pitou's gender.

Frankly speaking, it doesn't matter to me if Pitou is a female or male, it's just a fictional character, it's a chimera ant. I like Pitou as a character and the design, and initially, I never bothered to look at Pitou's gender due to mixed opinions about it. While some people refer to Pitou as a boy, there's someone on Reddit recently that is debating that Pitou is a woman and commented why I did not include Pitou in the hxh girls/women under the "favourite hxh girls/women" question. The Redditor also reasoned that the manga part about Pitou referring to themselves as "boku" was a mistranslation. And then there's people who are just saying chimera ants do not have biological sex (but we see the Chimera Ant Queen giving birth so??)

It's honestly extremely confusing to me and that's why I never bothered to look into it. Pitou is just a character that I know and love. And I never cared about whether people prefer addressing Pitou as a girl or boy, or something else.

Until I had to make this survey.

The only reason why I categorised ships into het, BL and Yuri is that there are over 50 pairings on Hunterpedia. For example, if people indicate that they only ship het ships, then all the ships featuring a girl and a boy will be presented in the next question. The BL and Yuri ships won't appear. This is designed so that people do not have to go through the trouble of scrolling through an incredibly long list of ships just to pick their favourites. Again, it's a technical reason.

However, this was a problem for Pitou because well, I didn't actually bother to look up Pitou's gender previously.

At first, I went to look at what people who refer to the manga had to say, and most of them reasoned it's because Pitou used "boku" which was a masculine(?) term. Now, I can't read Japanese but this is what people used for the rationale. It's just that Pitou seemed to have breasts and more feminine in the anime.

So initially, I wanted to list Pitou as a boy in that shipping section.

The only reason why I changed my mind, is because many people had only watched the 2011 anime version for the pre-Dark Continent Exploration arc. Even in my survey, only 168 had read the manga before the Dark Continent Exploration arc, but 403 people had watched the 2011 anime.

And as far as I know, from my observation, most people who had only watched the 2011 anime refer to Pitou as a girl (even if they know how Pitou is presented in the manga). And when they ship Pitou with someone, they usually view Pitou as a catgirl or something. Or at least, in the fanarts I've seen.

I did not want the case where people who ship Pitou with someone has to adjust their "thinking" when choosing the list of ships.

Those were pretty much my thoughts when I decided to list Pitou as a girl in the shipping section. And I'm not sure if that affected my memory when it comes to thinking that the anime referred to Pitou as a she/her.

Pitou is ambiguous but the anime refers to Pitou as a "her" a lot. Therefore, listed as a girl.

This is why I came up with these two sentences. Again, I am not very particular about this detail, but for the sake of technical reasons, I did what I had to do. You also need to understand that for texts in a survey, you have to make them as concise as possible.

Which we move on to the other comment I had about not including Pitou in the list of hxh girls/women. It's tied to my initial decision of listing Pitou as a boy. I made a tough decision to just... not include all Chimera Ants in that section, since they aren't human anyway. The only character that wasn't human that I included in that question is Nanika, but that's because Nanika is tied to Alluka (I listed Alluka as a girl. I know certain people won't agree with me. Killua says Alluka is a girl, and that's that). Besides, there was already a question regarding ranking Chimera Ants. So I think it's fair not to include Chimera Ants, although I do feel really bad because I think there are people who feels that their favourite female hxh character is Pitou.

Please understand that the decisions to include and what not to include can be difficult, in certain questions or characters when it comes to this. I cannot make everyone satisfied with the survey and I don't intend to make that promise. However, I will try my very best to make it as good as it can be.

I am going to address this in my report, in regards to Pitou and my decisions when it comes to this character in the survey. I need to look for the manga panel where Pitou uses "boku" so that I can properly explain it in my report.

#hxh #hunterxhunter #hxh survey #pitou #neferpitou

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amor-immortalem · 3 years

Text

My Adoring Fan Chapter 5

Chapter 4

A/N: A bit of a fluffy chapter as the twins make up

As Aurelius entered the kitchen, both Azalea and Mammon turned their heads to him.

“There ya are,” Mammon says as he leans against the island counter. “Only three hours after your Ma called for you, but, hey, at least you came home.”

“You’re not going to yell at me too, are you?” He asks.

“Well, that depends. Do ya know why what ya did was wrong and do ya understand why you’re being punished for it?”

Aurelius nods. “Yes.”

“Then no, there’s nothin’ I need to say that ya probably haven’t heard from your mother already.” The oven dings and Mammon goes to pull the peppers out and places them on a plate for his son. “Here, have somethin’ ta eat before we leave.” Aurelius nods as he grabs a fork and starts eating.

“Leave?” Azalea asks as she looks between them. “Leave where?”

“Home.” The demon says as Azalea looks surprised. “What, you thought we were bluffin’ when we told you two that if you had one more spat like this that we’d be pullin’ one of ya from the house? Your Ma and I can’t keep coming over here every two or three nights to diffuse a situation between the two of ya like this because ya can’t seem ta learn ta get along. An’ since Aurelius started this by going along with Zulima’s hair-brained idea, he has to move back home until we think he’s learned his lesson.”

“So Aurelius gets punished while Zulima gets away scott-free?”

“No, of course not. Solomon was here earlier ta dish out her punishment and Uncle Asmo will be here shortly ta decide how long whatever her punishment was will last and talk with her about why this was wrong in the first place. Their startin’ to get up fed up with her actions too and this is probably your cousin’s last chance ta prove she can shape up before they pull ‘er out of the house too.”

Azalea turns to her brother with an apologetic look.

“I'll let ya have a few minutes ta talk privately and then we’ll be leaving.” The Avatar of Greed steps out since he knows his children won’t honestly speak their minds if someone is listening.

“Listen,” Aurelius says as he leans his head against Azalea’s, the black streaks in their hair pressed together. It’s a thing they’ve done ever since they we little. “I’m really sorry about this. I knew it was wrong and I still did it anyway. Are you still mad at me?”

“A little bit.” The older cambion sighed, “You didn’t send that audio clip to Max, did ya?”

“Yeah, but if it’s any consolation, she didn’t listen to it and deleted it instead. You really should tell her though. I think you’d be really happy. She definitely likes you back.”

“Why did ya do it? I feel so betrayed.”

“I told Mum that I was just bored but really it was because I was getting annoyed with Zulima talking about how much she quote-unquote ships you two and wishes you’d just get together already...”

“I get that. She can be rather persistent.” Azalea sighs. “If that’s the only reason then I guess I really can’t fault ya for it... How long are ya gonna be gone?”

“Until the end of next term. I’m grounded too for taking so long to get back here, so I’m losing my phone and I won’t get to do any photoshoots for the next three months... I’m think of quitting all together when my contract is up actually. The time off will give me a chance to really decide.”

“Majolish is gonna be really mad that they’ve lost their top model,” Azalea laughs softly. “Hey, the reason ya wanna quit is ‘cuz of that letter, right?”

“Yeah, a little bit.” Aurelius hums. “Actually, while I was running from you, I think I met the sender of that letter- well more like I plowed into her as I was running away. She didn’t seem all that crazy and claimed she didn’t know who I was but I don’t know, I got some really weird vibes so I think she was lying.”

“Hey, I just thought of this but doesn’t that girl who hounded you to start a relationship with her reside at the House of Sorrow? Maybe she’s the one who sent that letter so she wouldn’t have any competition for your attention.”

“I didn’t think of that. It would make sense, actually. “Do you think I should write her back and say I know it was her? See if it was really her and give her a chance to come clean?”

“Why don’t ya do it at school? We’re all bound to have classes with her at some point in the day so being able to get her alone and there be no chance for interference sounds like the perfect opportunity. What’s her name? Is she pretty?”

“She introduced herself as Persephone- you know like that greek myth and yeah she is. Funnily enough, she looks a lot like that idol that Henry was crying about earlier. Her hair and eye color are the same shade of grey as that idol’s.”

“That’s really interesting, actually. When I was talking with Henry earlier, I proposed the idea that maybe she was taking a break to enjoy a normal teen life so I wonder if I was right. Maybe this is something you could actually pursue as far as a relationship goes... If she is that idol then she wouldn’t be interested in dating you for our family’s prestige, fame, or money since she has plenty of her own to begin with. I know you’re lonely just like I’m lonely.”

“Well, you’re not wrong,” Aurelius pulled back. “I do want to find a mate eventually, but I also just want to survive RAD first before I start looking. It would be nice to have someone that looks at us in the same way Dad looks at Mum- with nothing but love and adoration but not a lot of demons really like us. They mostly just tolerate our existence.”

“You’ll get that eventually.” Azalea smiled. “I mean I got my person so you should too sooner or later, right?”

“Yeah, we-”

“Aurelius, what’s with this letter you have?” Arella asks as she enters the kitchen. “This really worries me, Sweetheart.”

“I got that today actually and I think I know who sent it, but also I’m starting to suspect she wasn’t actually the one who sent it. I’m going to meet with her at school to clear the air over it.”

“I don’t think that’s a very safe idea, Aurelius. From the verbiage in this letter, she could be stalking you. I know from experience with Dad and Uncle Asmo that people like this will do anything to ensure they're the only ones who have your attention.”

“I promise I’ll be safe, Mum. But I have to find out for sure if it’s her or....” the teen trails off and Arella doesn’t like the sound of that.

“Aurelius, has a classmate been harassing you, Darling?”

“Yeah... I didn’t want to tell you and Dad because I didn’t want to worry you guys... it’s been a thing for a while. You would think after rejecting her for the thousandth time, she would get the hint...”

“What’s been a thing?” Mammon asks as he pops his head in the doorway. “C’mon, Buddy, let’s go home.

“Our son is being harassed by one of his classmates and he didn’t want to tell us for fear of worrying us. Also, he received this rather alarming letter today in the post.”

“What? Lemme see that thing.” He takes the piece of paper in his hands and scans it over, eyebrows raising in alarm. “Aurelius this is not okay. Is this the person whose been botherin’ ya?”

“Maybe...? I can’t really be sure. The implied sender isn’t the person whose been bothering me at school rather a girl that just transferred to RAD but I think it might have been forged by that person so I would avoid the sender at all costs. I want to meet her and confirm whether or not it’s really her.”

“You absolutely will not be doin’ that.”

“Dad I-”

“I said no. Aurelius, ya have no idea how dangerous people like this really are. I’ve had someone like this threaten your mother’s life multiple times back when we had first started officially datin’. Even Uncle Asmo got the same thing when he and Solomon went public with their relationship and other demons found out they had a kid together. I think combined, your uncle and I got close ta a thousand of these types of letters. It got so out of hand that at one point Uncle Lucifer had to step in and deal with it for us. This spells out nothing but trouble for ya and I don’t want ya getting' hurt by some nutcase that has a few bolts loose in the head.”

“Dad, you’re overreact-”

“No, I’m not, you’re not doing this and that’s final. I still have every single one of those letters and I’ll let ya read the worst ones to show ya just how dangerous something like this can get. Believe me when I tell ya this is not something ya want to deal with. And I’m warning you right now. If you get another one of these types of letters, I’m pulling ya out of modeling until you’re at least 1700 years old.”

“But what about my contract? Won’t I get penalized for breaking it?”

“We had a clause put in the fine print that if your father and I felt you were unsafe or were not benefitting from it emotionally or physically for any reason during the term of your contracts, that we had the right to terminate them at any point in time for your safety.” Arella explained.

The teen only sighs. He knows he should listen to his father but there’s something nagging him at the back of his mind. “Alright, I won’t do it.”

“Thank you.” Arella let out a relieved sigh. “We should get going now. It’s late enough as it is and your father and I both have to work in the morning. Give your sister a hug if you wish.”

The twins nodded as they moved to give each other a hug.

“See ya at school, I guess.” Azalea sighed. “Sorry I got ya booted back home.”

“It’s fine. This wouldn’t be happening if I hadn’t started it. Love you.”

“Love you too.” They let each other go and Aurelius headed off with their mother after Azalea gave her a hug goodbye.

“Are ya good ta go back down the stairs in your room without sliding down the railing? Your room is messy and I don’t want ya tripping and hurting yourself over a pile of books. Ask your cousin to help ya clean it tomorrow.”

“I think so. If I need it, I’ll just guilt Zulima inta helping me. She owes me after that trick she organized.”

“Okay,” the demon chuckles as he pulled his daughter into a hug. “I’ll come back ta check on you when I get back from the fourth layer with your brother. Make sure you use that cane, please. It’ll only benefit you, kiddo. I love you.”

She nodded as she let her father go. “Love you too. See ya then...” Azalea watched them go before going to put the plates in the sink and climbing the stairs. She stopped at Max’s doors and knocked, knowing it was about the time she’d be getting ready to bed. When she heard a soft ‘come in’, Azalea pushed opened the door.

“Hey...” She says as she walked in and closed the door. “We should talk...”

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

find more on my masterlist

#obey me next gen #obey me!#obey me! shall we date?#obey me swd #obey me fluff #obey me mammon #obey me oc #aurelius #azalea #arella

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fandomsilhouette · 4 years

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the presents they measured (the presence she treasured)

Love is a powerful motivator. Jealous is even more so. Suddenly, someone finds themselves falling faster than they knew how to breathe, before they knew they were even walking to the edge of a cliff, too quickly to enjoy the scenery on the walk over, and all they know is that by the time they crash-land, they’d better be ready to fight. Someone pushed them over the edge. It’s time for revenge. Happy @felinettenovember, y’all! Yes, we are in fact back to happy times. This has been written in collaboration with @musicfren, who will be posting the second part on his account tomorrow. It continues to be fluffy fluff, don’t worry... for now >:3 We’ll be doing every weekend pair together, so follow him if you don’t already or you’ll be missing a whole chapter!!!

Part 1 below. Part 2 upcoming.

“...did I miss Marinette’s birthday?”

“Dude, what are you talking about? Mari’s birthday is in April.” Nino shoots a pointed look at the snow drifting down to the streets as he shakes the now-sludgy water off his snow boots and starts unwrapping himself out of his winter gear, piling them up in a wet mess on Felix’s desk. Felix, for once, chooses not to complain, opting instead to focus on the main issue here.

“Well, but there’s a gift on her desk and November seventh is definitely too early for holiday gifts.” Felix smirks slyly at a camera no one else can see as he said the date, making Nino send him a weird look. Then again, Felix was weird all the time. Nino is used to it by now, so he doesn’t comment any further.

Nino shoots him a sidelong glance. “Dude, why are you specifically checking her desk?”

“Unimportant, I saw it as I walked in. Do you know who put it there?” Felix says, swerving the discussion violently back to the most salient point.

“…bruh… her desk requires you to turn almost 180˚ from where you would need to go for your desk.”

“Unimportant, I said.” Hopefully his Ladybug-red blush doesn’t show under the still-flickering half on lights that no one has bothered to flick the other switch for. The back half of the classroom is bathed in residual light and Felix can hardly see his own hand in front of him, but by Nino’s amused smirk, his blush is clearly bright enough to light up the path to his doom.

Nino opens his mouth, but whatever snark he was going to respond with is lost under a quiet “ooooooh!” and the sound of wrapping paper being carefully pried apart. Felix turns and his meticulously coiffed composure slips a bit.

“Marinette!” He half-falls out of his chair as he scampers anxiously to her side. He stands protectively behind her as if about to pull her to safety, hands hovering awkwardly around her waist, but she seems far too engrossed by the present before her to notice. Later, Felix will blush and be glad she didn’t. Later than that, she’ll admit she saw and just chose to ignore it, and Felix will blush again.

“I wonder what it i-- ooh!!” With a small happy gasp, she pulls back the paper (a disgustingly garish shade of green, easily three shades off of the correct shade, obviously) to reveal a dainty box of chocolates and an elegant white card, ornately decorated in gold leaf print. Marinette curiously picks up the card as Felix cranes his head intently over her shoulder. Inside, in pretentiously penciled cursive, is a simple phrase:

“With love, your secret admirer <3”

Felix immediately scoffs, grabbing Marinette’s wrist and pulling her into his chest, but she scarcely pays him any mind, so engrossed is she in her gift.

“Gosh, that’s really thoughtful of them, picking my favorite! Who… whoever they are…”

“It’s not even your favorite kind of chocolate!” Felix screams in his head, and refuses to acknowledge the follow-up question of whether he even knows what her favorite chocolate is. He’s quickly distracted, anyways, when Marinette giggles, which is a very distracting sound, Nino, stop looking at him like that!

“Haha, I could even say it’s… sweet! of them!!” She pops a chocolate in her mouth and Felix is riveted to the way her lips purse around the sweet, the way her tongue swirls around her finger as she sucks the last of it off.

Nino shoots him an impressed glance and mouths, “Dude, nice!” but Felix’s mind is too busy spinning to process why. What on EARTH was happening?!

It takes him the next two classes and most of lunch to work up the courage to ask. “Um… what’s a secret admirer?”

Nino pauses mid-bite, fork dangling in the air, to give Felix such a dumbfounded look that Felix immediately chooses to google the term instead, furtively hiding his phone under the bench. “Dude… why did you use that word if you didn’t even know what it meant, you walnut??”

Felix slams the lid down on his food and walks away immediately, footsteps echoing to the sound of Nino’s laughter.

He hopes to put this baffling incident behind him, but to Felix’s immense distress, the parade of gifts does not stop there. At her locker the next morning, Felix finds himself needing to push through a group of students all cooing over… something he cannot make out from behind the crowd. As he gets closer, he notices flowers pinned up in the shape of a heart over her locker, with a grand bouquet of roses pinned in the center. Felix’s nose twitches, itches, and then--

“Achoo!!”

Rose petals go flying everywhere and Marinette laughs, delighted. Kim nudges into him. “Sick show, bro! She loved that, how’d you time that sneeze??”

Felix doesn’t know. He’s confused. He wants to go home.

Two days after that, the PA system crackles through the classroom five minutes before the class is scheduled to end. Principal Damoclese clears his throat with a sharp peak in the audio and says in his most bored, reading-off-a-paper voice: “Marinette Dupain-Cheng to the courtyard, please, that’s Marinette Dupain-Cheng to the courtyard.” Bustier winks and ends class early, and everyone floods outside to see a teddy bear holding a cute little love-heart. Marinette makes a beeline to it and hugs it immediately, burying her face in its fur. It’s adorable, actually, and Felix tries very hard to not be jealous of a stuffed toy.

He does not succeed.

“OHMIGOSH, Felix!!!” Rose squeals, “That was so romantiiiiic, you’re sooooooo good at this!!! How are you being this sweeeeeeet??? <3 <3 <3” Felix can hear the hearts in her voice. Juleka mumbles something that he can only assume is agreement. Felix just sits down where he was standing and puts his head in his hands. Why did nothing make sense?

Felix leans his head against the window of the car, letting the bumps in the road thunk his forehead against the glass in a nice, soothing, repetitive dull pain, better than the constant headache he’s been living with for the last week. Their words spin about his head, hounding his thoughts. His chauffeur is silent for once

“Dude, nice!” “Sick show, bro!” “How are you being this sweet???”

And that’s when it hits him, making a hollow thunk off his empty skull.

Someone is getting her these gifts. And they think he did it.

Another heartbeat.

OH NO, THEY KNOW HE LIKES HER! Wait. He likes her?! ...oh no. He DOES.

Staring out at the road speeding by far too fast, Felix clenches his hands into fists. He’d never expected to find himself here: head over heels crushing on a girl that everyone knew he liked before he ever worked it out on his own, a week late into a competition he doesn’t remember entering.

Well, no matter. There’s still time to enter, catch up, win.

The next day, Marinette finds another chocolate box on her desk, bigger, more expensive, and exactly the correct shade of green. Each one is handcrafted into increasingly more elaborate designs, laced with caramel and toffee and candied pecans. The spread takes over her desk and Alya’s, and Felix grins smugly.

“Wait. Didn’t you already do this?” Nino asks, but Felix is too busy. There is an entire wheelbarrow of flowers to deliver by lunch.

His competition moves quickly: by the end of the school day, the PA is playing a serenade for her in front of the whole school. As soon as the bell rings, he cancels his next order and places a rush on the biggest size they offer: clearly, he’s going to need to do better. He doesn’t bother to look at the sizing or the price. Nothing is too big or too expensive for Marinette.

The next day Marinette finds a third box, so big it doesn’t even fit on her desk and instead sits next to it like an awkwardly crouched gremlin. Felix glowers at it, not having realized exactly how big it was going to be, and becoming increasingly concerned as she shrieks with delight, yanking out the artistically crinkled tissue paper and tossing it gleefully behind her, climbing into the giant box as soon as she makes enough space for herself.

Terrified, Felix shuffles over and peeks over the edge. She’s curled up in the paws of his giant stuffed animal, half asleep, looking so cozy he can hardly bear it.

...oh, goodness, he’s getting jealous of a toy again. His own toy, even!

There’s nothing for a few days, and Felix relaxes, and then--

The entire classroom is covered in flowers of every kind come Thursday morning. Bustier cancels the first period and directs everyone coughing and sneezing to the nurse, and convinces everyone who can stand the pollen to help her move it out of the way.

It turns out the class has been talking about the secret admirers-- a lot more than Felix expected. Sometime after the impromptu courtyard concert by Jagged Stone and the last minute fashion walk between classes, and between the endless planning and scheming and glowering, Felix finds himself cornered by Nino, who’s lost his hat, glasses hanging half off his face in a way Felix could’ve sworn they didn’t used to bend, looking more feral than Felix had ever seen him.

“ENOUGH, FELIX.” And then Felix finds himself being dragged bodily to an empty classroom where at last he faces his opponent-- nay, his nemesis. He recognizes them at once, because of the way they, too, are being held prisoner, the only other put together person in the entire room.

Oh, he really should’ve known.

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queerstakezine · 4 years

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Admissions Guidelines!

“I’d like to bear my testimony” is a pg-13, digital, non-profit, queer+religious zine about the experiences of LGBT+ Mormons, presided by Harvey (A trans/queer ex-mo) based on the theme of “That Sunday”, and whatever that means to the contributor. Alternately if a more specific theme is wanted, “Fast/Testimony Sunday”.

If this sounds like something you’d be into contributing to, Read More

Schedule and link to submittal form will be provided in another post! (Tumbr is weird about links)

NON-PROFIT! There will be no exchange of money here. By extension, this is a DIGITAL ZINE.

ANY TYPE OF SUBMISSION IS GOOD! -- poetry, essay, photography, memes, tweets, diary entries, art, writing, multimedia, comic, song, collages Rants/vents etc -- You’re only restriction is it’s gotta be stationary (so no audio or video) and in digital format, anywhere between 1-4 PAGES.

Size will be scale-able to 6″ x 9″ for if anyone wanted to end up printing it themselves (I probably will haha), please allow for a .75″ bleed+gutter and 1″ bleed+gutter for the inside of the page (either the left or the right). @ 300 dpi. Landscape is OK! Just be aware if it were printed there would be the middle fold. CMYK is preferred but not necessary.

I’ll try to take as many submissions as I can, but 30 CONTRIBUTORS seems to be industry standard. If there’s more interest I’ll probably expand that number. You need to be older than 13 for legal reasons, and preferably older than 18.

You don’t have to be mormon, whether it be ex-Mormon, active, investigating, or questioning Mormonism, or lgbt+, but your submission is required to EXPRESS YOUR RELATIONSHIP OF IDENTITY TO MORMONISM AND QUEERNESS. Your entry doesn’t have to be English, but please provide with an (accurate) translation if you do.

For copyrights make sure you own the content of the work, NO FAN-ART! don’t want to get slapped with a lawsuit. I’m pretty sure there’s protection for critique/parody of certain content, so if you wanted to put an excerpt in from an official church document that should be okay.

Even though this is a pretty INFORMAL zine. I’m looking for people who will take the project seriously, give contact information which is checked regularly or who will check the this zine blog regularly for updates, who do their best not to procrastinate and are honest if they fall behind please. I deal with people like that at work and It’s not fun. I’m going to do my upmost to produce something that values the time and effort that the contributors put in, I ask that you as a contributor do the same.

Let the congregation know I’m NOT CENSORING/rejecting a lot of works that paint the mormon church in a negative light. If that bothers you, I ask you pass or BE POLITE OF OTHER PEOPLE’S WORKS (even if it does not sit well with your opinion of the Mormon faith), whether you like or dislike the church.

I want to include as many perspectives/experiences as possible here, that will include some things that are hard for active members and excommunicated/non-active members to view or read.

If you feel like your submittal is too heavy and you’d be comfortable flagging it, please send me a trigger warning with your submittal, which will be included in the final zine.

As this is a queer+religious zine, criticism, anger, mourning, and any stereo-typically negative emotion are going to be welcome and encouraged.

This will be a PG-13 zine! Nudity is permitted as long as it’s tasteful and non-sexual, if possible, please exclude genitals. Try to keep swearing minimal. No slurs. No racist or hateful speech. No gore/explicit violence. Use your head with this stuff please.Your project/submittal will be banned if you violate this. I also reserve the right to turn down your submittal for any reason not listed here, but I will try to let you know why if such an event happens.

#queerstake #queerstake zine #harvey mod tag #zine #zine 2020 #call for submissions #I'd like to bear my testimony #QueerTesimonyZine

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meandmyechoes · 3 years

Text

hey, just wanna jot down something. can't believe October has run halfway already. Been weathering and, bothered by real-life things to sort of put it aside here. I planned to take a break from SW after Visions came out, did I miscalculated and somehow pulled into Thrawn-verse. I want to finish Chaos Rising and Greater Good before Lesser Evil comes out, but it's not a real deadline. I will persist to opt print over audio so I can voice Ziara on my own. I've also listened to Outbound Flight and slowly making my way through Heir to the Empire. Borrowed Survivor's Quest from the library since I heard the audiobook is abridged.

Spent sometime confined to a chair and the physical Chaos Rising last Sunday and found I really like/miss that feeling being absorbed in that world. But I can't read somewhere too quiet (i.e. too little distractions) or I fall asleep quickly. Reading on my phone en commute is very convenient and facilitates it, getting to highlight the book, but I do forget to blink. But all in all, I like that my reading is recovering.

Onto merchs. I took Captain Rex home two weeks ago but I'm the same indifference towards it. I don't know, I only ordered him as an accessory to Ahsoka and I just don't really have an idea what to do with him. I do love the character of course but spending money is not how I express it for him lol. It isn't even sitting on my shelf beause I haven't even cleared the space for them. I'm a bad collector I know haha.

And, ordered bunch of things. should've the rest of October's day so had a couple of craft projects in mind. stomping on the brakes is HARD. Well, 4 to 6 outfits. plus finally baby lekku. dyeing, painting, makeup, and film the whole thing. and a bit of baking, sculpting, props-making. Gonna try some new materials. Quite ambitious process really. I hope I can pull it off.

Fine, let's jinx it.

ordered three cheap dolls to try my first customizing. making... human characters first :) Zero confidence in actually drawing a face but I'll wing it. Then, restarting the baby ahsoka project because I found the right body now. lol had a fit thought I ordered a size too small. It was slimmer than I remembered but oh well.

Thinking of re-bodying FOD Ahsoka but not sure I can actually bear to do so. I do hold out for acquiring a mint-in-box for display in the future though. Either way, looking for a back-up body for HT Ahsoka becuase I'm preparing for - none of her costume is removable. (saw the recent Harley Quinn release, nightmare if it's a fashion doll lol). I think I will check out the FOD Endor Leia first since it has agreeable articulation and hopefully similar body build. But that's not assured since except her all the girls have molded on tops or pants thus individual sculpts. Other bodies on the market are less muscular and I'm afraid that'd make Ahsoka's head look even bigger and disproportionate. First, I need to decide between a doll body or a figure body. BJDs doesn't really apply since it's mostly quarter scale or up. It's not my cup of tea anyway. The doll bodies I'm looking at are inexpensive, but I don't mind slightly better grade plastic. The major concern is still most of them being too thin. The good thing will be a wider option of shoes for small feet. For figures, the results I'm seeing isn't very, well, kid-friendly. On the opposite side of the spectrum, stuff I see are usually too busty or anatomically accurate. Kind of want to avoid seamless joints with stories about them cracking, and that filter out some more choices. Right now, the runner-up is Obitsu 27. The price is reasonable, bonus extra hands, while on the small side. But I can't find much user information about it, and I prefer to see/touch the real thing before purchasing it. I... I don't really like soft busts, I find it a very strange idea.

I have some really vague pieces of idea about a Halloween outfit because last year's sketch ended up staying on paper. But the actual process might depend on whether I will go through with the mid-autumn season dress first. HT Ahsoka has been in the pot more than two months now and she could release any time. I'd probably break down crying then.

CWArchives is not dead I'm just lazy to restock.

#myechoes #about to need a toys tag

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xseaxwitchxkpop · 3 years

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But Not Today

A/N: Hello y’all. This is a heavier fic and is a way for me to channel me feelings as most of my fics are and will be, especially because it comforts me that people out there feel the same as I do and hopefully through these fics find they are also not alone. I struggle with depression and suicidal ideation/thoughts like many of you do and there’s too many fics that glorify and glamorize the hardships and always end with cure fluffy “I’m always there for you.” No, some people don’t have others to talk to and sometimes the mental illness wins. In all sincerity, if you are feeling like you have no one to talk to, no to listen to you, you can always PM me or send me an anon because I know that feeling well and it’s not a good one. If you want a part two, lemme know, otherwise how it ends is how it ends.

Disclaimers/CW: suicidal thoughts, suicidal actions, pills/overdose, drinking, depression (lemme know if I missed something)

Requested: NO

Group: ATEEZ -- Wooyoung

Word Count: 1,847

This month has been absolute hell and is why you find yourself down the rabbithole. Sure, you have friends who have reassured you that they are there to help emotionally but you’ve been fucked over too many times in the past to truly believe any of that.

Which is why you find yourself where you are now.

The TV plays on the background but you process none of the audio. The sounds of the city play like a symphony throughout your apartment, but you don’t smile and sway. No, you, on the couch, hunched over with elbows on your knees, staring at a pill bottle and a bottle of whiskey, is how the music finds you, empty.

You don’t have the energy to cry, you don’t have the energy to move, you don’t have the energy to...exist. Breathing is now too hard, and the stillness of your body is reflected in the stillness of the apartment, save for the television.

A heavy sigh leaves your lips as you rub your hands on your face and then once again take up the staring contest with the pill bottle. After a beat of silence, your right hand moves to take the bottle of whiskey and swig it hard, the familiar burning sensation in your throat doing absolutely nothing for you as it hasn’t been for the past couple of weeks.

Today was a battle that you were on the verge of losing but you don’t know how to accept the loss. Stabbing or cutting yourself is too messy and would you even hit the right vein to die fast enough? You could jump from the apartment complex’s rooftop and would certainly die on impact, but that’s too public, you want to go quietly. Putting a bullet through your brain seemed like a good option, but it’s too much noise and you have no idea the first place to start looking into gun ownership in Korea. You’ve known people you have attempted suicide by pill overdose, and it wasn’t the most effective method of killing oneself, but it was certainly one of the easiest and one of the quietest ways to go, especially if you could die in your sleep.

In this past month, you’ve been distancing yourself further and further from your friends who began to worry about you dearly, but, to you, not enough. None of them bothered to try to see you, come by your place, just shot you texts and a couple of calls saying they’re always there or some other bullshit. But Wooyoung was extremely persistent in this. He knows you liked your space and the last time he tried to help you emotionally you blew up at him and dug into his heart like a knife, attacking him in such a way that left him in tears rather than you.

Tonight, though, Wooyoung decided to blow up your phone at every chance he could between practice with the boys and eating and doing other errands he needed that day. You might have hurt him in the past, but he still cares deeply for you regardless.

However, you couldn’t be bothered to pick up the phone and answer him, so your cell was on Do Not Disturb.

You’re not sure what came over you, but you lift yourself off the couch and shuffle to your door, slowly slipping your feet out of your slippers and slowly slipping your feet into your sneakers, leaning down to loosely tie the laces.

Your grip on the wooden door is gentle, twisting the knob and pulling it open a more caring act than it should have been. As the door shut behind you, you, void of keys, wallet, phone, communication, identification, didn’t look back or bother to double-check if it closed all the way. Guided by something, you’re not sure what, you move forward, your feet shuffling towards the elevator and taking a ride down.

At the first floor you step out, a solemn step that holds no purpose, to you at least. Perhaps fate is guiding you somewhere, perhaps you’re guiding yourself, perhaps nothing guides you and it’s all meaningless.

The streets and sidewalks glisten with water, reflecting the neon lights of clubs, the primary colors of 24/7 convenience stores, storing the sounds of honking taxis, shared laughs of lovers, and the bustling of a street corner and the calmness of another. As life goes, as life is, as life will be.

You can’t say that you’ll miss this -- fake order in a world of chaos. You can’t say that you’ll miss that -- imagined purpose for a meaningless existence.

As you wander, you find yourself taking in nothing at all and everything at once, your alcohol-idled mind creating figures that aren’t there and sounds that don’t exist. Yet when your vision clears again, you find yourself standing at the barrier of a bridge on the highway, looking down into the vast expanse of the ocean; you’ve apparently walked for quite a while.

The depths of the water below look inviting, dark and crashing together, a blanket of sorrow which is oddly comforting to your empty mind, perhaps because it makes you feel something. With your arms folded, you lean your full weight onto the barrier, contemplating whether or not you should jump -- sure, it would be a bit of effort to hoist yourself over said barrier, but it’s a guaranteed death unlike an overdose.

“YAH, Y/N, WHAT THE HELL DO YOU THINK YOU’RE DOING?!” A male voice paired with boots slapping on wet concrete worms its way into your ears, but you have no reaction; the beckoning of the ocean nearly drowns out his voice anyway.

Suddenly, you feel a strong hand grip your upper arm and whip you around, forcing you to stare into the fearful eyes of the owner of the voice. His other hand came up and gripped your other arm just as tightly, searching your face, your eyes, for something...something...a sign of something.

You took a moment to observe this man, taking in the way his eyes were red and puffy, the fear and relief a sharp contrast shaking hands in his eyes, and a shiny upper lip, probably from snot from his crying earlier.

You feel Wooyoung pull you into him tightly, barely allowing you to breathe. He squeezes you with nearly everything in him, the state of your apartment and the possibilities of what happened running through his head nonstop.

It was nearing 11PM and Wooyoung was genuinely concerned that you weren’t picking up. You were not doing well for a while, he could tell by your abrupt and simple messages, declining every chance to hang out and/or catch dinner, refusing to even take a walk together. But this time was different -- you were flat out ignoring him and not answering any of his calls or texts and this had him greatly on edge. It reminded him of a friend he used to have in high school who was so hard on himself that he nearly killed himself right in front of Wooyoung; Wooyoung couldn’t go through that again.

He decided to tell the boys that he’s going to your apartment to check up on you and the other boys, worried about you as well, told him that they’re here to help in any way they could.

He travelled to your apartment, using the spare key you gave him to get through the lobby door and using your access code for the lock on the door. The scene that met his eyes made his heart drop into his stomach and a sense of dread fell over him.

Your kitchen floor was scattered with shards of porcelain from one or two of your dinner plates, he couldn’t tell. The vase of flowers that he sent a few days ago were knocked over on the counter, creating a puddle on the table and a wet spot on your carpet, the lip of the glass vase chipped. The TV was running, some stupid drama that was out of character for you to watch. But the coffee table and its contents is what made him feel genuine fear for the first time in a long time.

The bottle of whiskey was half-full, sitting next to a bottle of pills. He made his way over, carefully, brushing porcelain shards out of the way with his foot, as he sat exactly where you once sat not too long ago. He took in your cell you left on the floor near the balcony windows and the keys sitting by the TV and your wallet laid in front of your bedroom door that was open.

His attention turned back to the pill bottle and he reached out a shaky hand, reading the label and having trouble keeping his eyes dry. He opened it, hoping against all hope that you didn’t open it, that maybe, maybe you changed your mind at the last second.

Uncontrollable tears left his eyes and snot started running down his nose and his breathing quickened and his chest constricted as he found the bottle unsealed, meaning you did something he hoped you didn’t do.

You mumble something and Wooyoung didn’t quite catch what you said, but he could ask later; all he wants to focus on is you, in his arms, very much real, very much alive, very much on planet Earth, very much here. He breathes in your scent deeply as a reassurance to himself and he doesn’t plan on letting you out of his sight any time soon.

Yet you had no reaction. You just stand there, letting him do what he needs to do to convince himself that you’ll still be around after this, that the mix of the pills you took and the alcohol the bottle said explicitly to not take with the pills fogging your mind.

He eventually pulls away, looking back in your eyes for something, something, something. He notices they’re glazed over and out of focus, dread creeping back to him.

He cups your face in one of his hands and asks, “Were you going to jump?” His voice is shaky at best, doing poorly in concealing his fear, his rage, his dread, his every emotion currently.

“Maybe,” is what you answer. You look briefly back at the ocean, craning your neck a little to look directly at the welcoming ocean again then turn your attention back to Wooyoung. “But not today,” you continue. “Perhaps tomorrow, perhaps next week, perhaps next month, perhaps next year. But not today.”

You feel yourself about to collapse from the dangerous concoction in your veins but Wooyoung barely notices, his mouth running about something but you process nothing.

“My dear friend,” you mumble, and the sound of your voice shuts up the man in front of you, grabbing his attention.

“I’m...sleep...slee...wha’s it?...sleepy, yeah...sleepy,” you manage to get out before collapsing onto the boy, your consciousness slipping from you and a huff of air escaping from the other human presence from your impact.

#angsty hours #my works #wooyoung #ateez #ateez x reader #ateez imagine

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soundwavereporting · 4 years

Text

Sky Spies and Splitting Up Batchmates

IDW, pre-war (to be specific very slightly pre-Megatron: Origin); Cosmos, OCs, Sentinel Prime, Prowl, the tiniest of tiny cameos for Soundwave and Ratbat. Warnings for canon-typical racism/homophobia.

This is based on a whole heap of headcanons, plus one or two panels from MTMTE.

Iacon felt…small.

Maybe it was the way the crowds parted to make way for them, or maybe it was the way that they had to walk in single file or risk one of them accidentally stepping into the street.

Cosmos missed Staniz. Staniz was made for mechs like them.

He supposed it was better than being separated from his batchmates during their constant, multi-year surveying missions studying the infinitesimal ebb and flow of energon. Their contract with Senator Shockwave wasn’t scheduled to expire for another three cycles, but today the Prime of all people wanted to speak to them about something equal parts vitally important and incredibly vague.

::He’s probably gonna send us to the Institute.::

As usual, Starburst’s mood was equal parts pessimistic and anxious.

“The Prime has better things to do than send three Lunabots to the Institute.” Cosmos spoke aloud, though he hoped it was quiet enough to not be overheard. Abruptly feeling self-conscious, he adjusted the temporary badge the Senatorial messenger had affixed to his armor, declaring him cleared to wander around inner Iacon for the day.

::Then he’s gonna reformat us! Turn us into his new sky-spies, or dump fissal radiation into our spark chamber in the hopes of creating outliers!::

Cosmos glared at his batchmate. As usual, Starburst was paying more attention to whatever conspiracy theories he’d pulled up on his HUD than anything else—more than once, Cosmos and Paradox had had to pull the mech out of incoming traffic.

“Shut up, ‘burst.” Paradox had been quiet until now, silently soaking up the sights of inner Iacon, but now the Grand Imperium loomed before them. It was no secret that the average Lunabot stood (literally) head and shoulders above most mechs, leaving the average, non-form friendly building more or less inaccessible to them, but the Senate’s Iacon headquarters were…something else.

They stepped inside.

A mech with the most spectacular, articulated rotors Cosmos had ever seen was arguing with the receptionist. He felt Paradox stiffen beside him, taking in the sight of said rotors as they shifted and swayed in time to his animated, angry gestures in the receptionist’s direction.

Not for the first time, Cosmos lamented knowing so much about the things that revved his batchmates’ engines.

The mech who had been standing beside rotor-mech whipped around, staring at Paradox as though he had broadcasted his taste for fully articulated rotors and flight frames on a loudspeaker.

Paradox, at least, had the sense to look a little embarrassed.

Starburst had frozen in the doorway, effectively blocking anyone larger than a memory stick from entering. Cosmos grabbed Starburst and yanked him forward. Starburst stumbled, tripping over his own feet and nearly falling head-first into rotor-mech’s stupid, articulated rotors.

Abruptly, Rotor-mech turned to face them. With a sinking feeling of utter dread that was definitely proportional to the situation, Cosmos took in the Senatorial crest emblazoned on rotor-mech’s chassis.

Apparently having noticed the same thing, Paradox squeaked.

Cosmos wondered if it would be bad form to just transform and break through the ceiling en route to outer space, never to be seen on Cybertron again. Maybe they could go find Luna-1! Surely such a feat would be enough to erase the—

“You’re here!”

The receptionist, whose public ID tag labeled him as Drawback, jumped to his feet and gently maneuvered past rotor-Senator-mech and grasped Paradox’s arm in a clear, albeit relieved greeting.

“As I was saying, Senator, our most wise Prime has a meeting with these three wonderful—and prompt!—Lunabots in just a few moments. As I said, I am more than happy to put you down for a meeting slot sometime…late next week?”

Drawback tugged insistently on Paradox’s arm, practically dragging the Lunabot towards the lift. Unsure whether they were meant to follow, but unwilling to remain, Cosmos and Starburst followed suit.

Rotor-Senator gawked. Even from this distance, Cosmos could feel the anger bubbling in the mech’s field.

“Thank you,” Drawback muttered, once he had herded them out of audio-receptor range, towards an elevator that would accommodate them—one of them at a time, at least. Paradox and Starburst clamored to be the first ones in, and Cosmos lamented the fact that he was going to be stuck in the lobby for even a minute longer than the others. “Sometimes I swear Sentinel sets up these appointments just to get out of meetings he doesn’t want to attend. And Ratbat knows me from Kaon, so he thinks I’ll just rearrange the Prime’s schedule! Just for him!”

Cosmos had no real answer to that. He watched Paradox make his escape via elevator, peeking around the closing doors once more in hopes of getting another look at rotor-Senator. Starburst fidgeted in place and Cosmos could practically see the forums his batchmate had pulled up on his HUD.

“So, uh,” Cosmos said, hoping to break the awkward silence. “Worked here long?”

Drawback shook his head. “I’m usually posted in Kaon, at the um, local Senate building over there. Just here till the replacement passes all the background checks, then I’ll get to go home.” He lowered his voice. “It’s awful here.”

Starburst nodded enthusiastically, and apparently chose that moment to break his self-imposed silence.

“What’s this about?” Starburst asked. “I know that Lunabots consume more energon than the average mech but we wouldn’t be able to enter planetary orbit without all that fuel and! And Senator Shockwave himself declared us free to receive all the fuel we need, at least until our contract with him is up, and I—I really don’t want to get reformatted. Or brainwashed. I really don’t.”

Cosmos had to resist the urge to hide his face in his hands, but Drawback nodded. Considering the commotion rotor-Senator had been making out there, Starburst’s rant probably wasn’t the most outlandish outburst he’d ever been subjected to.

“Well, I know for a fact you’re not here to be brainwashed!” Drawback’s smile was as sincere as it was strained.

The elevator door slid open and Starburst practically jumped inside, leaving Cosmos alone with Drawback.

“You’re a Lunabot, right?” Drawback asked. “You like it?”

“Y-yes,” Cosmos said, mostly because he wasn’t sure if it was a trick question designed to weed out anyone who might be even the slightest bit anti-Functionist. For all he knew, the Senate was staffed with telepaths around every corner, taking notes on which visitors needed to be sent to—

Primus, now he was starting to think like Starburst.

“I definitely don’t get to see Iacon too often.”

Drawback nodded. “Well, if you get the chance—it’s not everyone’s taste, but there’s a pretty good Tarnian place in one of the lower districts. It’s size-friendly, too—lots of mechs visiting from Kaon and Tarn drop in, so you know it’s authentic.” Drawback coughed, awkwardly. “I, uh, run a regional cuisine blog in my free time.”

The elevator door chose that moment to open, sparing Cosmos from any more awkward small talk. Cosmos stepped in and Drawback waved goodbye, cringing as the rotor-Senator came into view, striding towards the hapless receptionist.

Sentinel Prime’s offices were on the top floor. Cosmos took a moment to wonder at the inefficiency of it all—Drawback certainly wasn’t flight-frame, and he doubted rotor-Senator transformed unless it was to show off. Did they all really use these elevators to navigate the building?

Maybe Sentinel wanted to hire them as shuttles.

Cosmos shuddered at the thought. He didn’t know how shuttlemechs could stand the feeling of someone moving around inside him, much less directing him.

The doors slid open, and Cosmos was relieved to see Paradox and Starburst waiting for him. Triplechangers stood guard at the many doors of the very intimidating hallway that stretched out before them, each nearly as tall as the average Lunabot. Cosmos wondered if they were allowed to skip the elevators and just fly up to whatever floor they needed to get to.

Out of politeness, Cosmos nodded a greeting to the nearest guardsmech and got no response. Starburst had shifted back to internal comms and was sending them both a massive data-dump from the conspiracy forums.

As he usually did, Cosmos fell into step just behind Paradox, letting his batchmate take the lead. It wasn’t something that they had ever talked about, but where Paradox led, he and Starburst were usually content to follow. Paradox’s quick thinking had gotten them out of trouble more than once, and his cool demeanor had netted them the contract to work with Senator Shockwave. Cosmos would just have to make sure neither he or Starburst said anything that warranted getting their sparks extracted, and they would be good.

His audio receptors picked up the faintest sounds of an ongoing argument at the end of the hall. None of the triplechangers seemed particularly bothered by the noise.

“Nice place,” Cosmos muttered to himself. Paradox elbowed him. “What? It’s true!” The carpet under their pedes probably cost more than the three of them would make in a hundred cycles.

The door at the far end of the hall was more than tall—and wide—enough to accommodate the three of them. They stepped inside and Starburst raised a hand, awkwardly waving at the receptionist in the far corner, who didn’t look nearly as welcoming as Drawback had.

“Lunabots.” This receptionist didn’t have a public ID tag. “Right. Sentinel’s been waiting for you.”

Cosmos glanced at his chrono—they were nearly five minutes early, and the implication that they were running late irked him. Judging by the way his armor puffed up, Paradox clearly felt the same.

The receptionist gave Paradox a flat, unimpressed stare. Paradox met the stare with a patient half-glare Cosmos hoped he’d be able to emulate one day.

“Through the far door, and please—try to make it quick. Meetings with astro class mechs—much less Lunabots—aren’t exactly what the Matrix intended when it chose Sentinel Prime as its vessel.

Giving up any semblance of professional distance, Paradox grabbed Cosmos’ arm with one hand and Starburst’s with the other before either of them could start a fight or demand to know what the mech knew about the Matrix.

Without looking at them again, the receptionist waved them through. The door opened, and Cosmos came face to face with Sentinel Prime, who’d been in the process of storming out of his own office.

“Lunabots!” Sentinel composed himself quickly, spreading his hands out in that way Cosmos had noticed a lot of mechs tended to do when they were trying to show that they had nothing to hide.

Cosmos didn’t trust him, but earning the trust of a Lunabot wasn’t exactly a perquisite for the Primacy, was it?

“There are…three of you. Did we know three of them were coming?” The question was directed at the mech Sentinel Prime had been arguing with—an Enforcer-turned-aide, who’d done a worse job of pretending he hadn’t just been yelling at a Prime than he probably thought.

“Lunabots are created in triads.” The Enforcer-turned-aide was looking at a datapad. “Starburst, Paradox, and Cosmo. Here at Senator Shockwave’s personal recommendation.”

“Cosmos,” Cosmos said automatically.

Paradox groaned.

“Ah.” An unpleasantly familiar expression crossed Sentinel’s faceplates. “Well, we only need one of you for now. So.”

Paradox stiffened. “Sir—um, your highness, sir—“

Sentinel waved a hand. “Just Sentinel.”

“Sentinel, sir—Lunabots—“

“Lunabots are sparked in triads,” Sentinel rolled his optics theatrically and turned back to face his aide. “I heard you the first time. It’s not like they’re sparkmates, are they?”

Sentinel glared at Paradox.

“No sir.”

“Good.” Sentinel turned back to Paradox. “Now. Like I said—well, I didn’t say: to make it short, we’re running short on mechs capable of orbital surveillance, and the Senate has authorized one—one—Lunabot to undergo a deep reformat and a class change to add to our ranks. Whichever one of you is chosen to be reformatted—“

“Reformatted?”

Despairingly, Cosmos realized neither he nor Paradox had moved to shut up their batchmate. Sentinel didn’t need to ask their permission, did he? This was just a formality—or maybe they were here to get evaluated, in which case…

Primus, they were going to choose Paradox.

Oblivious to Cosmos’ internal crisis, Sentinel was trying—and failing—to allay Starburst’s fear.

“Into a smaller, more compact, more fuel efficient body. You’ll get twice whatever Shockwave’s been paying you and so many upgrades you won’t even have time to think about your…friends. Brothers? And you’ll be doing your duty as a Cybertronian citizen, helping your Prime rid the planet of enemies of the state.”

“Sir, Decepticons are dissenters, not—“

“I don’t want to get reformatted,” Starburst snapped. Sentinel looked up, surprised. “None of us do. We’re Lunabots and we like being Lunabots.”

Cosmos seized the chance to nod. Vigorously.

Sentinel frowned.

“Please wait outside.”

He was half-expecting the triplechangers to accost them the instant the door closed, but the mechs remained where they stood, impassible and unmovable. The receptionist looked up and rolled his optics, then ignored them completely.

“They’re gonna split us up,” Starburst said, breathless. “The Prime and his little assistant—oh Primus they’re gonna turn us into minibots and make us hack transmissions and—“

“Shut up.” Paradox demanded, then turned to Cosmos. “What’s your take on this?”

“I—um. Yeah.” Cosmos looked away. “I think they’re gonna choose you.”

“Not what I was looking for.” Paradox narrowed his optics. “Maybe we can persuade Sentinel to take all three of us—barring that, maybe we can redirect him to another cohort of Lunabots.”

“I’ve never liked Quasar and his batchmates. They should pick one of them to be sky-spies.”

“Quasar is an idiot. Sentinel won’t go for it.”

“I’ll do it,” Cosmos said, before he realized the words had formed in his processor, much less left his voicebox. “Um. I mean—“

“No!” Starburst grossed his arms. “I mean, better you than me, but no.”

“If—if—Sentinel’s set on recruiting a Lunabot and can’t be persuaded otherwise,” Cosmos said, trying and failing to figure out where he could backtrack and retract his words. “I’ll do it.”

“But you hate surveillance,” Starburst said. “You—oh! You’re hoping that being a spy will be less boring than monitoring Cybertron’s energon levels?”

“I hadn’t considered that,” Cosmos admitted. “I’m still hoping Sentinel will let all of us get reformatted.”

Before Starburst could reiterate that he really didn’t want to get turned into a spy, the door to Sentinel’s office opened once again.

Feeling like he was walking to his own execution, Cosmos followed his batchmates. They trooped back into the Prime’s office in a single file, awkwardly standing as Sentinel looked them up and down.

“As I was saying,” Sentinel said. “For the time being, we still only need one of you. But Prowl here—“ Sentinel gestured at the Enforcer. “Has persuaded me to promise you that once the Decepticon threat has been eradicated from the planet, you will have the option to get your old frame back and return to your…’batch’. No hard feelings. And if, by chance, I am not in a position to approve the change, Prowl has been authorized to act in my place. Is that acceptable?”

Belatedly, Cosmos realized that Paradox and Starburst had taken a measured step back. He had volunteered, hadn’t he.

Primus, he was an idiot.

Before Cosmos could retract his offer, Sentinel held out his hand. Dumbly, Cosmos shook it.

“Welcome to Kaon Security Services, Lunabot,” Sentinel said. “We’re glad to have you here.”

#transformers #mine;#idw #cosmos #sentinel prime #prowl #maccadam

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lantur · 4 years

Text

royai week 2020: day three, “old wounds”

summary: “I’m not giving you a massage, sir. That would be extremely inappropriate.”

rated: e for everybody

tags: pre-canon

words: 1894 | read on ao3

It’s half past seven in the evening and they are still in the office.

This isn’t unusual. They have at least one late night a week. Roy always orders takeout for himself and his Lieutenant. Always Blomgren’s, always noodles with chicken and sesame sauce for him, and lemon ginger chicken soup for Second Lieutenant Hawkeye. They eat their meals together, on either side of his desk. The Lieutenant always brings a report to the desk and her red marking pen and sits down with every apparent intention of working through dinner. She always looks him over and suggests that he should work through the meal too, so they can both get out of the office before nine.

She also allows herself to be distracted by his conversation every time. It never fails to make Roy smile to himself, once Riza is finished with eating and immersed in her work again.

It’s a small pleasure, a simple pleasure, but these late nights are always a high point of his week. It’s refreshing to spend time alone with Riza, even if they are both working. When they’re alone like this, they can allow some of the formalities to slip, just a little.

Roy only wishes it hadn’t rained tonight.

It’s pouring outside, the rain coming down in torrents. It’s been raining hard since the morning, with hardly a half hour of respite. The air is heavy with moisture, positively saturated. It makes him even more uneasy than he is on a typical rainy day.

Roy shifts in his chair, changing positions for the third time in ten minutes. Nothing helps - not leaning back, not slouching, not sitting up straight. He closes his eyes, exhaling slowly, and rolls his shoulders. It brings no relief.

“Lieutenant Colonel.”

Roy opens his eyes. Riza eyes him from the doorway, a thick stack of the transcriptions from audio surveillance he had requested in her arms. “Ah, Hawkeye,” he says. “Thank you. I’ll review those now.”

Riza approaches and sets the paperwork on his desk, regarding him with some concern. “Are you alright?”

“I’m fine. Just trying to determine whether this possible lead in Liore is worth following up on.” Roy squints at the transcriptions, wondering why the typewriter font has to be so tiny.

His Lieutenant notices, and her mouth quirks into a tiny smile, hastily suppressed. She’s been suggesting that he get his eyes checked for the past six months. There’s nothing wrong with wearing glasses, sir. Major Hughes looks quite distinguished in his. It may even help you to look a little older.

Riza turns to leave, but then hesitates. “Are you sure? You’ve seemed uncomfortable all day.”

Roy shrugs, and fights the urge to grimace at the pulling in his shoulders. “It’s an old wound that acts up in the rain. Nothing more.”

Riza raises an eyebrow, a silent question. “Ishval,” Roy confirms. “I took a bullet to the back during my second month. It landed deep in my rhomboid minor.”

Riza winces. “That must have been painful.”

“It was. But it healed up fairly well. It only bothers me now when it rains heavily, for some reason.” Roy gives her a wry smile. “I’m sure you’ll say it’s just another reason I’m useless in the rain.”

“It’s the drop in barometric pressure.” Riza leans against his desk, a rare display of informality. “It makes the soft tissue and fluid around your joints expand. That irritates the nerves and causes pain, especially at the site of old injuries.”

Roy sighs. “Makes sense, I suppose.”

“I can bring you some painkillers and a glass of water.”

“There’s no need.” Roy glances out the window, at the pouring rain. “I won’t send you out to the pharmacy in that. You’d be swept away.”

“It’s kind of you to be concerned about me, sir,” Riza replies, in the tone that really means you have no need to be concerned about me. “But I keep a couple of bottles at my desk.”

“No,” Roy says hastily. “I mean - no, thank you. That won’t be necessary. Just…” he waves vaguely at the chair. “Sit. Relax. There’s really no need to look so worried, Hawkeye. I’m not at death’s door.”

Riza takes a seat, but she tilts her head to the side, surveying him with some curiosity. “I didn’t know that you had an aversion to pain medication, Lieutenant Colonel.”

There’s a memory that hangs, unspoken, between them. Of how he had given her two enormous pain pills thirty minutes before he had burned her back, and several more over the days that followed. Riza hadn’t been able to sit up on her own to take the first dose after the burning. He had gently lifted her off the bed, helping her stay upright long enough to swallow the pills.

“I don’t." Roy averts his eyes from her, straightening his paperwork. “For serious injuries. Or for others. I just don’t--”

I don’t deserve the relief, is what he nearly says.

Roy dares a glance up, and the silent empathy and compassion in Riza’s eyes nearly takes his breath away. He has to look away again, before he does something stupid. Like walk over to her, cup her face in both of his hands, lean down, and--

“I don’t wish to dismiss your feelings, sir,” Riza says at last, mercifully interrupting his train of thought. “I would be lying if I said that I haven’t had similar thoughts. But please consider this. You have to feel well in order to function your best. You won’t be able to work efficiently if you don’t allow yourself to operate at full strength. And you’re not seeking to advance yourself solely for your own benefit.”

Roy leans back and rolls his shoulders again, meeting her gaze. Riza stares back at him resolutely, and he exhales, a reluctant smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. “You always make such compelling arguments, Hawkeye. One would be a fool to argue with you.”

“And yet, you do. Daily.” Riza stands. “May I?”

Roy pauses, and then nods. He expects Riza to leave, in search of her bottle of painkillers, but she walks over to his right side instead, her movements a bit more tentative than usual. “Pain medication will take about half an hour to kick in,” she explains. Almost as matter-of-factly as ever, but there’s a tiny waver in her voice. “Manual manipulation of the injured area should give you some immediate relief. Enough to help you get through making a decision on that Liore lead. It’s nearly eight already, and you have a meeting at seven-thirty tomorrow morning with Grumman and Raven.”

Roy takes a deep breath, and it actually catches in his throat for an instant. He hopes Riza didn’t notice, but knows she would have. “If you’re offering, Lieutenant, please go ahead.”

Riza hesitates, and then rests a hand on his shoulder, applying the slightest pressure with her fingers. Then she settles her other hand on his shoulder and squeezes lightly. “Tell me if it hurts, at any time,” she says. There’s still that hint of uncertainty in her voice. “I’ll stop.”

“I will.” Roy knows that she means for him to work through this treatment, since it’s Riza, but it’s Riza, standing behind him, massaging his tight, aching shoulders - something that he's fantasized about for a very long time. She kneads her thumbs right into the stiffness in his shoulder blades, carefully working at the knots, her touch gentle and thorough at the same time. Roy closes his eyes and melts forward without realizing it, folding his arms on the desk and resting against them. It feels so good.

Riza exhales, making a sound that’s almost a laugh. “I meant to make you comfortable enough to read the report, Lieutenant Colonel. Not put you to sleep.”

Maybe it’s just because he isn’t looking at her, because there’s no one else around, because it’s late, and they’re lulled into relaxation by the sound of the rain coming down outside, but the warmth, the hint of affection, in his Lieutenant’s voice comes through more than it normally does. And that feels nearly as good as what she’s doing to his back.

“You try reading a report while getting a massage,” Roy retorts, his voice muffled by his arms and the papers underneath him.

“I’m not giving you a massage, sir. That would be extremely inappropriate.” Riza works her thumb in circles around a particularly sore spot in his shoulder blade, and Roy has to bite his lip to refrain from making any inappropriate noises. “I’m providing you with necessary medical care for a troublesome injury that you have neglected to tend to. It’s my responsibility to look after my commanding officer’s health.”

“Whatever you need to tell yourself, Lieutenant.”

Roy gets a sharp prod in his back for that comment, but thankfully, Riza doesn’t pull away. He relaxes into her touch, and considers that he could get used to this. It’s a dangerous thought that should be avoided and filed away with all the other stupid, dangerous, inappropriate thoughts and feelings that only she can bring out in him, but it lingers.

“You would make an excellent masseuse - or, sorry, physical therapist,” Roy observes. “If I didn’t need you by my side as much as I do, I’d suggest a career change. I would be your most loyal customer. Or patient.”

Riza pauses for a moment as she pretends to consider. “The prospect of more reasonable work hours is tempting. But I couldn’t possibly leave you to your own devices. Nothing would get done and the operations of this office would grind to a halt. I could set up practice from my desk, though.”

Roy can’t hold back at a huff at the thought of his Lieutenant massaging Havoc’s broad shoulders. “An unauthorized use of office space. Besides, I wouldn’t care to compete with the others for your time and skills.”

“Don’t be ridiculous, sir." He can hear the note of amusement in Riza's voice. “You’re the only one I would do this for.”

Roy finds himself beaming into his folded arms. He nearly falls asleep right there at the desk under the Lieutenant’s careful ministrations. Finally, though, she lets go, and Roy can’t hold back a small, disappointed sound.

“You should feel better now.” Riza moves to stand on the other side of the desk from him. There’s a faint blush on her cheeks.

“I do.” Roy holds her gaze. “Thank you, Hawkeye. I know that I’m always in good hands with you.”

“It’s my pleasure, Lieutenant Colonel.” Riza looks at him, serious and genuine and subtly sweet as ever. He does feel better now - much better, and there’s only one thing he wants to do. One thing that has nothing to do with figuring out what to do about the lead in Liore. “Please let me know if there’s ever anything I can do to help.”

“I will, Lieutenant,” Roy says quietly. “I will.”

Riza clears her throat, evidently somewhat flustered. “I’ll be back in a few minutes with some painkillers. And please finish your report on that Liore lead before it gets too late.”

She retreats quickly. Roy watches her go, and he sighs. He picks up the report and resumes his work, already wondering when there will be rain on the forecast again.

#royaiweek20 #royai #royai fanfic

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doctor243 · 4 years

Text

Twice Shy Part 2

Yeah um.... so turns out I did have an idea for a second chapter of that one-shot that I did, so it turned into a two-shot....

Summary: Tony notices some nice surprises and decides to investigate.

Pairing: TonyxNat

Words: 1324

Part 1: Please read it before this for context

Tony was never accused for being oblivious. On the other hand, Nat’s subtlety was her occupation.

In the days following his episode in the meeting room, Tony noticed a few changes in the compound. They weren’t…significant things per se, but they did appear to be special differences. When he woke up the morning after to a throbbing headache, he found some Advil on his bedside table with a glass of water, although he had no memory of placing those items there. When he entered the kitchen, he found large amounts of bacon and scrambled eggs that, judging by the dishes in the sink, everyone else had already partaken of already. When he sat in the meeting room waiting for their daily accords meeting to start, he was informed by Jarvis that “Captain Rogers has been called away for a personal emergency and will return in a few days.”

A little stunned by the sudden freedom he had, he strolled around the compound, unsure of how he should occupy his time during the next couple of days. He considered looking over the amendments that they had made to the accords, or creating a new suit in his workshop, but neither held any sort of appeal to him at the moment.

Throughout the day he noticed even stranger things. He had headed back to the kitchen for his special cookie and was pleasantly surprised to see that his cookie jar was unusually full (they were good cookies and his teammates tended to leech off of him). Odd. The pot in the coffee machine was still full, even though he swore he had had three cups a cup during breakfast. When he finally did venture into the workshop to find something to do, he could swear that his bots were on their best behaviour since…since ever. Dum-E was frantically sweeping away at nothingness and U was ever by his side waiting for an order. Butterfingers just stayed still, which was extremely uncharacteristic of him. Tony looked around suspiciously – it was time to conduct an experiment.

He had a hunch, now he just needed proof.

“Jarvis, honey,” he called out, as he stood up to leave the workshop. “Could you send me the location of all my teammates?”

“Certainly, sir,” his loyal companion replied.

He found Clint in the gym, and strolled past, giving him a short wave.

“What’s up, Tony?” he asked without putting down the dumbells.

“Oh nothing, just taking a stroll,” Tony replied nonchalantly. “Y’know,” he paused as if in thought. “This gym is really messy. I should get someone to come and clean it up.”

Clint chuckled. “Yeah, you should.”

The mechanic smiled and turned away. He found Rhodey in the Library, reading the newspaper.

“Hey, Honeybear,” Tony smirked. “You hungry?”

“Nah why?” Rhodey replied, looking up from his reading fondly.

“I don’t know, I’m really in the mood for some pasta tonight.”

“Well,” Rhodey laughed. “Don’t go anywhere near the kitchen, you might start World War III.”

“Hey!” Tony pouted. “I’m not that bad at cooking.”

“Tell that to the contractors you have on your payroll to replace your kitchen every month.”

“I will,” he turned, heading off. “I’ll even cook for them.”

Natasha was in the kitchen peeling an orange. Bingo, he thought.

“Eww,” he scrunched his face in disgust. “Is that an orange?”

“No, it’s a purple,” the Black Widow smirked at him. “Why? You got a problem with fruits?”

“Not all fruits,” he replied, opening the fridge, and feigning a search for something. “I just hate oranges.”

“Why?” she questioned, popping a slice into her mouth. “Did one try to steal your tech?”

“No,” he emerged with a Mars bar, shrugging nonchalantly. “I once ate an orange that had gone bad, and now I hate all oranges. Also, they’re the colour for the worst hockey team in the league, but that’s a different story.”

“Can’t wait to hear it,” she replied, popping another slice into her mouth.

Tony just grinned.

The next morning, Tony headed to the kitchen, deliberately passing by the gym. Sure enough, it was still a mess, and last night, no pasta was to be found for dinner. They’d ended up ordering Thai food, which he didn’t mind at all. However, when he entered the kitchen, sure enough, a pot of coffee and a breakfast of pancakes, bacon and eggs awaited it, and all the oranges in the fruit basket were gone. There must have been at least 10 in the basket, but now there wasn’t a single trace of the fruit. He smirked. Hook, line, sinker.

“Widow,” he called when he found her in the 3D training room during her break. “You busy?”

She looked over, wiping the sweat off of her face with the towel around her neck. “Nope,” she took a sip from her bottle. “Just taking a break. What’s up?” Her hair was getting a little longer, and she now had it in a short ponytail.

“Well,” he smiled, stepping closer to her. He looked into her eyes and his heart grew three sizes, threatening to impale itself with the shrapnel. “I wanted to talk to you about some missing oranges.” His voice lowered.

She showed no outer reactions to his statement, but coolly replied, “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“That’s alright,” his smirk grew, and he took another step closer. “Perhaps you could tell me who’s been making breakfast these past couple of days.” Another step. “Or who put the Advil by my bed?”

He could sense the internal debate within her, and he knew she was debating or not whether to admit to these secret Santa acts. “What Advil?”

“Oh was that not you?” He feigned ignorance, pulling out his phone. Oh my sweet, sweet Natalie Rushman. “Oh wait,” he continued when the holographic video from his phone popped up. “Is that you…scolding my bots?” His smile widened as he watched her fight down the blood that was rushing to her face while she watched the video of her pointing and speaking to Dum-E, U and Butterfingers while they looked…remorseful? “Let’s listen to the audio shall w-”

Natasha’s hand shot out and grabbed his.

“Stop.” Her face was completely red now. Good grief she was so frickin’ adorable. Tony smiled at his victory. He could have just checked all of the security footage, but finding out things the old school added a certain thrill to the search.

“I’m sorry,” she huffed finally. “I won’t do those things anymore, if it bothers you.”

“Whoa whoa whoa,” Tony said quickly. “I never said it bothered me.”

She turned a suspicious eye to him.

“I wanted to thank you,” he smiled warmly. He opened his arms, inviting her in for a hug. He’d have pulled her in, but he was still concerned for his physical well-being if he crossed the line of physical boundaries. “Nobody has tried so hard to make me feel better for a very, very long time.”

She eyed him for a few seconds before succumbing and hesitantly going in for the hug. “I know what it’s like to have nightmares, Tony,” she whispered.

“Thank you,” he whispered back, breathing in the scent of her hair and sweat, finding himself surprisingly calming down. That was unusual – he always pushed down a panic attack, or focused on something else, but never really, actually, calmed down. He closed his eyes and hugged her tighter. This woman was tugging at areas of his soul that he never knew existed. He was probably fucked. “It was really sweet of you.”

She just responded by reciprocating the tightness. They stayed that way for a while, relishing in each other’s company. Natasha, the heart of the team, trying her best to heal Tony, the mind of the team.

“You really didn’t have to throw away the oranges though,” Tony mused.

“Shut the fuck up,” Nat grumbled and just burrowed her face deeper into his chest.

So I really wanted to write something where Natasha was trying to make Tony happy, but she’s awkward and doesn't...really...know...how???? so she just does anything she can and tries not to get caught if things go south she has plausible deniability.

Tags: @littlemsstark3000 @black-ironwidow @ironwidow @ironwidoww @natashastark3000 @natashastarkotp @natasha-romanoffs-thoughts @natasha-romanoff-deserved-better

#iron man #black widow #marvel #mcu #scarlett johansson #Robert Downey Jr #ironwidow #tonynat #tony stark x natasha romanoff #tony x nat #fluff #major fluff #sweet nat being awkward #tony stark needs a hug

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