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spencersawkward · 3 years

Note

i’m so happy ur on tumblr now!! i love between the lines so much, could you write a blurb or one shot about mgg and a younger co-star, but like very spicy if possible 🙃, idk i just love that scenario🥵.

i was literally about to write "omg i love this concept too!" and then i was like “well no fucking shit, sophi.” lol. YES i can 10/10 write you a one-shot with a similar scenario! also thank you for your kind words that was the first fic i ever wrote so it’s very near and dear to my heart!

summary: reader goes to a holiday party with her co-stars and best friend, Matthew... but all the fun happens in the dressing room.

content warnings: this one is quite dirty but i’m also proud of it lol. unprotected penetrative sex, oral (female receiving), degradation, use of the term “little girl,” creampie, age gap. dirty talk?

pairing: Fem!Reader/Matthew

word count: 4.7k

masterlist

"no."

"what do you mean, 'no’?” Matthew laughs, looking between me and the mirror.

"I look like the Ghost of Christmas Past." I lift up the soft white tulle of the dress, watching it float back down to settle over my skin. he's got his eyebrows raised and there's a smirk on his lips like he's holding back a laugh. I resist the urge to reach around and hit him.

"would you rather wear that?" he points to the punch-stained gown that's now laying pathetically over the back of the vanity chair. I genuinely ponder the idea for a moment.

"honestly, the crime scene vibes might work well with the theme of our show."

"seriously, it's not bad, Y/N!" he insists, drawing my attention back to the mirror.

"you're just saying that because you're the one who spilled on me and you don't want people making fun of how clumsy you are." I cross my arms over my chest. he gives me a dubious expression in our reflection on the wall.

"do I seem like I care about that?" he challenges.

"I--" the truth is that no, Matthew is not the type. Matthew is the kind of person to flounder in front of anyone and proceed to crack a joke about himself. he's humble. but I kind of like when we talk like this, our back and forth.

after a year of working together on the same show, he and I have grown incredibly close. I'm friends with all my co-stars, but he and I just have the natural friendship chemistry that makes me want to spend all my time with him. when we're not on set, we're hanging out on his couch or ordering dinner or driving out of town to check out wacky sites around California. we just have fun. pure, clean, honest fun.

of course, in my dreams it isn't pure or honest. frankly, there's a lot of sordid scandal to what goes on in my head when he accidentally touches my arm or brushes his fingers over mine. the amount of times I have gone to cast parties trying to work up the nerve to kiss him are embarrassing. he's older and more experienced and, obviously, he has no interest in me.

but that doesn't matter.

the only reason I'm standing in a dressing room alone with him is because he knew someone on the crew who could hook me up with a replacement for the night. he left while I slipped out of the old one and came back in only after knocking and checking, like, twice to make sure I was decent. he's so respectful that it's almost like he's afraid of making me think the wrong thing-- which makes me feel absolutely stupid for my almost schoolgirl crush.

"come on, you look great. let's go enjoy the party."

"was this a dress one of the victims was wearing?" I ask with a laugh.

"probably. not like we carry a lot of gowns on set." he grabs my hand, makes my heart leap into my throat. he only does it to urge me along, but it still feels intimate as I follow him out of the room, tossing one more evaluative glance at myself in the mirror. I seem terrified.

we continue to do our rounds at the party, Matthew filling my glass of eggnog even though I hate it. I wince and take a sip while we talk to some of our co-stars.

"what's wrong with you?" Shemar chuckles at my expression.

"lost a bet."

"with whom?" he glances between Matthew and me, knowing damn well already from the mischievous grin on the former's face.

"I told you not to take it." Matthew says over the rim of his glass.

"if you mention it one more time, I'm gonna throw up eggnog all over your outfit." I threaten him, but we're both smiling. Shemar frowns.

"what was the bet?"

"you know David-- the guy I was telling you about?" I reply quickly, determined to give my side of the story. Shemar nods; I told him last week when David oh-so-chivalrously danced up on me at a club and asked me out. usually in those situations, guys just want a one-night stand, so I was impressed and agreed. "anyway, Matthew said if it turned out that he was a weirdo, he would get to pick my drinks for the next week whenever we go out."

"your drinks? that's specific."

"she's so picky!" Matthew teases me.

"leave me alone, you dick!" I elbow him and he dodges just in time.

"tell him why he was a weirdo." he grins. the glare I give could kill. but Shemar is waiting expectantly for me to share the information, so I sigh and set my jaw before telling the truth.

"he collects antique dental tools."

"what?" Shemar laughs disbelievingly. I throw my hands up.

"I don't fucking know. we went back to his apartment and he showed me his whole collection."

"you're attracted to weird people, Y/N." Matthew says. I raise my eyebrows and almost say something that dooms me. I hold my tongue, however, and turn back to Shemar with a reserved smile.

"anyway, how are you?"

...

the cast holiday party is actually pretty fun. I tend to leave these functions early in favor of my couch and some ice cream, but something about the bright colors and the smell of wintergreen in the air makes me want to linger in the studio.

I stuff myself with sugar cookies and Matthew mercifully lets me switch from eggnog to Sprite. normally, I'd drink at such an occasion, but I'm a messy drunk and this is one of my first real jobs as an actress. I don't want to even come close to jeopardizing that by breaking some expensive equipment or something.

my throat gets a little sore from all the talking I do-- Paget and I spend about half an hour horribly belting out Christmas carols at the baby grand piano they brought in. they originally had someone hired to play it, but the guy disappeared about an hour ago.

by the time it hits around ten pm, my limbs are tired. I thought people would be leaving (a lot of them have families), but the party is still very much raging when I start to wind down. maybe it's because I'm sober.

"hey." Matthew sidles up next to me as I sit at the piano bench with a slice of lime in my mouth. I like to suck the juice out of them; sour things are my favorite.

"hi." I pluck the fruit out and drop it back into my soda. he sits next to me, his cologne filling my senses with the kind of sensual warmth that it shouldn't be making me feel. he always smells so good.

"ladylike." he gestures to the movement.

"is that why you call me 'princess?'" I smirk, half-joking.

"once-- I called you that once!" he defends. it's not a lie. he used the nickname when he was mocking me for my somewhat selective food preferences. it was sarcastic, but I wish it wasn't. something about the way he said it in the moment made me blush.

"is there a reason you've come to grate my nerves?" I raise an eyebrow and he turns away from me as he bites back a smile. I pout. "what?"

"you're talking like a Jane Austen novel."

"what's wrong with Jane Austen?" I defend, skin heating up. his proximity is doing things to me that it shouldn't.

"nothing," he glances at me before moving his gaze to the ivory keys. "do you play?"

"elementary level, sure." I giggle. he runs his fingers over them, never pressing down hard enough to release a sound. I'm entranced by the delicate nature of his actions, the veins and the curve of his fingertips, the sheer width of his hand. I think about it too much for it to be healthy.

"show me." it's a direct order, one that doesn't feel directive but still ends with me placing both hands on the piano and wracking my brain for something to play. I decide on a piece that Paget and I were doing earlier, "Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas."

I've never been quite good at piano, and the nearness of his body is like an anvil on my fingers, but I play anyway. and it feels good. his eyes are on me, drawn to my tracings over the instrument as they press and lift and glide.

"sing." I tell him.

"no!" he protests. I don't stop playing, only now getting into the thick of the tune.

"oh, come on. just the chorus..." I plead, turning my head to beg. "please?"

I bat my lashes playfully, fully intending it as a joke, but Matthew softens a bit. for a fraction of a second, I think he looks at my mouth. he turns his head back to the piano and lets out a quiet "here we are as in olden days... happy golden days of yore..."

"there you go!" I egg him on, and he starts to get more into it. his voice is absolutely off-key; he's no singer, and somehow that makes him even more endearing to me.

Matthew has always been this flawless, intimidating figure in my mind. even when we first met, I was certain that he was hiding something because everything else about him is so... perfect. he's funny, sweet, genuinely kind, handsomer than hell. it didn't make sense. but knowing that he can't carry a tune makes me feel a bit better. it humanizes his beauty.

while he sings, I can't help looking at him. his side profile is even more enchanting; the curve of his features meeting a smooth elegance in his jaw and cheek, especially when his mouth is open. he catches me smiling at him and returns it with his own gleeful face, now totally fine with singing like a fool in front of everyone. nobody is even really looking at us-- they're several drinks in and lost in their own universe of drunken laughter.

there's something kind of magical about that, I think. we're sober. when the song draws to a close, I lift my fingers off the keys and into my lap.

"you're quite the Pavarotti." I joke.

"the who?" he furrows his brow with a smile.

"he's a famous opera singer."

"oh," he laughs, "thanks, Mozart."

I twist my face up as I hide my smile. this is also part of the reason I could never tell Matthew how I feel; we just fit together too well. he almost always gets my references and I understand his, even though there's an age gap between us. he's an old soul with a youthful heart.

"how's your night going?" I ask him softly, changing the subject. he sets his hands on his lap, absent-mindedly toying with his fingers. it's not a nervous tendency at all. he does it whenever we're on set.

"as of right now? pretty damn good." he replies with a smile. I get warm again at the implication. he doesn't mean it like that, but god, do I wish he did.

"very smooth." I compliment appreciatively.

"how about you?"

"it was kind of boring, but then this rando sat next to me and started singing Christmas songs and it got a little better." I say flatly, grabbing my glass off the top of the piano and running my fingertip over the rim. he drops his head in a giggle.

"you're something else."

"insult?" I clarify.

"definitely a compliment."

"I like compliments."

"well, I wasn't lying before. you look really beautiful in that dress."

"the murder dress?" I glance down at it to hide the absolute wideness of my eyes at his words. he's completely flustering me and I'm starting to find it hard to breathe. he said I look beautiful. not "pretty," not "great"-- beautiful.

"yes, the murder dress." he gets a little pink in his cheeks, and that makes me want to explode on the spot.

"well, say goodbye to it because I'm gonna go change back into my plebeian clothes," I stand from the piano bench. "it's past my bedtime."

Matthew looks up at me with an unreadable expression and I feel my heart flutter in my chest. I hate leaving him. "do you wanna come with me? like-- walk with me?"

"sure." he nods, stands, and follows behind. I can feel his presence like a delightful reminder of the emotions surging in my stomach. we wind through the crowd of party-goers until we end up back in the dressing room, away from the party. it's quiet.

Matthew walks in with me, carrying our drinks in his hand, and he's about to stroll back out so I can change when I touch his arm. the door shuts automatically behind him.

"wait," I swallow quickly. "can you unzip me?"

"oh." Matthew looks at me, then at the glasses in his arms, then at the vanity. he sets them down and comes back quickly, his frame behind me while his fingertips locate the little piece at the top of my gown. my breath hitches in my throat when he brushes over my spine by accident, one nail dragging accidentally against my skin as the fabric slowly gives way. I don't know if he hears it-- it's nearly imperceptible-- but he definitely hesitates once he reaches the place where my back starts to curve into my ass. he pauses, doesn't breathe until he reaches the end of the zipper.

"there you go." he mutters. his voice is a little more hoarse than usual, and he clears his throat as he steps away. I know he's going to back out. he's going to back out of the room and wait for me to slip into nothing and I know, somehow, that he's going to be thinking about how I look in here with my clothes off. he's going to wish he stayed.

and I'm going to wish he'd done more than stayed.

before I can lose my nerve and allow the moment to be swallowed up by practicality, I shrug the straps of the dress down my shoulders and let gravity take over. it drops to the floor, leaving me in only my bra and panties. I can sense him behind me; he's silent for a moment.

"Matthew." I say, the name sitting on my tongue like a sugar cube. perfectly formed, slowly dissolving.

"y-yeah?" he stutters for the first time since I've met him.

"are you looking at my ass right now?" I ask, still turned around. the way he's frozen in place tells me that I'm right.

"yeah." he admits.

"you can touch it, if you want." I murmur softly. part of me doesn't think this is real, the way each sentence leaves my throat like it's been pre-planned. truly, I don't understand how my brain is moving so quickly.

"are you... sure?" he's hesitant, but even I can taste the longing.

"yes."

his hand smooths over my butt, softly at first like he's still not believing his own eyes, before moving back to grab it. he squeezes the flesh, and a low exhale from him tells me that he's excited.

"do you want more?" my voice barely carries. my head is almost foggy from how good it is to have his grip on my body, even in such a simple way. I can feel myself getting wet.

"how much more?" his lips brush over my shoulder and I get goosebumps. my mouth opens and closes for a moment, searching for the right words.

"however much you want."

it's flint and steel, the way he sparks. the air literally leaves my lungs when Matthew grabs my hips and spins me around to face him. my lips part as I peer up at him, at the lust that now darkens those hazel eyes and the way he holds mine. his touch is certain. he pulls our bodies together, tilts my chin up to kiss me.

it's passionate, strong, the kind of kiss that causes me to lean back a bit just to receive the full force of his desire. but I return the affection easily, moaning into his mouth. I've never been held the way that Matthew holds me. like I'm made of sugar glass, like he wants desperately to feel the soft give of my skin and make a home of me.

the heat between our bodies is almost overwhelming, and I sigh when he subtly pushes our hips together. his erection is against my stomach.

"fuck." I mutter when I pull away for air. Matthew doesn't stop his perfect movements, though, tugging my earlobe between his teeth and starting to leave love bites up my skin and over my shoulder. he chuckles against my throat. I shiver.

"you alright, little girl?" he asks.

"just--" I let out a moan at the sensation of his fingers exploring my bare waist. he reaches behind me to unclasp my bra. "just surprised."

"about?" he slides the straps down my shoulders and looks me in the eye. the lack of physical contact makes me whine.

"that you want me."

"how is that surprising?" he smiles, using one index finger to guide me to look at him.

"you don't seem like it."

Matthew raises his eyebrows as if I'm a crazy person. truly dumbstruck. "what?"

"you-- well, I don't know." I frown, but Matthew takes my hand and moves it over his torso until my palm is resting over the considerable bulge in his pants.

"is this enough proof?"

I struggle for words, sputtering. "yeah-- yeah, it is."

he bucks into my hand a little and I bite my lip, eyes moving up to meet his. something passes between us that I don't fully understand, but feel in my bones. I have never, in my life, wanted someone to fuck me as much as I want Matthew to fuck me right now. my jaw clenches.

"I need you." I tell him like this is the most relevant piece of information that will ever pass between us. he smirks.

"yeah?"

"mhmm."

"then lean against the wall and let me give you what you deserve." he orders. for a second, I try to think through what he means. then I look behind me at the open space and back up, him following me closely. his hands move up to cup my breasts, kneading and tweaking my nipples as he kisses my lips. the coolness against my back causes me to gasp, and he swallows the sound with his tongue before moving down my body.

he's torturously slow, taking one of my nipples into his mouth while he shrugs off his suit jacket. he switches to my other peak, one hand splayed over my stomach, and then proceeds southward with his lips. his kisses are delicate, open-mouthed, as they find their way to the waistband of my panties.

he hooks his fingers in them and looks up at me.

"can I eat you out, baby?" he asks. I bite my lip.

"please." like a beg.

"oh, you're polite tonight." he smirks, tugging the garment down my legs and discarding it somewhere in the room. I don't respond, and he doesn't seem to need me to, because he pushes one leg up for better access to my pussy. "let's see if it lasts."

my back curves off of the wall involuntarily when he holds the flat of his tongue against my clit suddenly, trying to roll my hips against his face. my fingers tangle in his hair, one leg resting over his shoulder.

he starts to flick at my clit. I lose grasp of my own language.

"Matthew, that feels so good, I--"

he attaches himself to my bundle of nerves, seemingly turned on by the sounds I'm making for him. he groans as he laps at the wetness between my legs, dipping into my folds and sucking the soul out of me. I whine and use his curls as leverage to gain more friction. he peers up at me.

"needy little girl." he mumbles against my pussy. I shove him back into me.

"make me cum, then." I beg. I can practically feel the devilish smirk on his face as he devours me like he'll never get enough. every twist and lick of his tongue is sending me to new places. I'm panting, chest heaving, while I grab my own tits and buck into his mouth.

he moans. my orgasm hits me like a wave, causing me to nearly thrash with pleasure as I cry out.

"Matthew, keep going, fuck yes!" I feel tears prick the back of my eyes, the culmination almost too much to bear as we hold contact. he stares into my fucking soul as he eats me out, and I want to stay like this forever. it's hard to support myself with my legs going weak, but I love it. the sensations are otherworldly. it's only when I'm about to collapse that I push his face away from me.

"I love your pussy." he tells me, licking his lips as he sets my legs down. I grin and let my head fall back against the wall.

"thanks."

"come here, princess." he takes hold of my hips and guides me over to the mirror, turning me so that he's standing behind my frame. the pet name causes me to smile.

"what?" I reference our reflection. he stares at me, reaching around to squeeze my tits.

"I wanna fuck you in the mirror." such a vulgar thing, said so beautifully. he kisses my cheek. "if that's okay with you."

"I don't care what position we do as long as you're fucking me." I breathe honestly. he chuckles and draws me towards him so his clothed boner is against my ass. I reach behind and work the button on his pants. he undoes the ones on his shirt. we're silent, him watching my naked body move like he's trying to memorize every detail.

when he's finally stripped, he lets me stroke his cock for a couple moments before pushing my upper back forward so I'm holding onto the sides of the mirror. I see him biting his lip as he lines himself up at my entrance.

"you ready?" he checks. I nod and he smiles at me once. pushing in, the smile melts into a jaw-dropped haze, eyes rolling into the back of his head. "Y/N..."

"it's so big." I try to breathe. he's so deep, I grip the mirror until my knuckles turn white. he's going to snap my body in two with the angle of his cock, filling me easily.

"tight little thing." he grunts as he holds himself inside. I can only watch in shock as I try to adjust to the sheer feeling of him. Matthew runs his hands over my sides, my ass, touching whatever he can. "how's that?"

I start to wiggle my hips and he groans at the feeling of my walls desperately swallowing him up. "Matthew, I need it."

"need what?" he thrusts into me and I have to fight a scream.

"need you."

"fuck... yes." he hisses out, sliding into me. "you're so wet I don't even need to try."

I bite my lip to withhold my sounds and he stares me in the eyes in the mirror as he starts to fuck me harder, building a pace with his hips. he growls a little if he hits certain angles, getting ruthless.

"so many times when I wanted to be inside you, princess..." he trails off. I start to play with my clit with one hand, using the other to stabilize myself with the mirror. the idea turns me on.

"when?"

"whenever you have attitude," he pants. "tonight, in that innocent fucking dress. making me wanna pound you like a little slut."

I make a high-pitched sound at the shudder of pleasure that jolts through my stomach at his words, wanting more. I've never heard him talk this way before.

"Matthew, shit--" I rub myself in circles, caught between watching his face and watching the way his hips slam into mine.

"you're begging to be fucked, you know that?"

"am I?" I smile sweetly in the mirror. we're in our own world, locked in a fantasy that I never want to leave. I can feel him in every corner of my body, sinking beneath my skin. he digs his nails into my ass.

"mhmm." he hums. I can feel the familiar weight in my stomach that indicates how close I'm getting. a knot that screams to be undone by his perfect length. I would do anything for more of this. I can taste everything good in the world on my tongue.

"I'm so close." I whine.

"I can tell," he studies my face in the mirror. "so pretty when you're breaking."

"oh--" I feel my thighs tense and my body pulses, the euphoria almost overwhelming. we move steadily, rhythmically, and he pushes my climax to new levels. "faster." I cry.

Matthew is quick to respond, gripping me closer while he plows into me like he's never going to have my body again. the sound of it is filthy, perfect, a mess. he groans at the sensation of my cunt pulsating around his cock.

"cum for me, princess." he moans, losing himself in the embrace of my core. the foggy stare in his eyes is like drowning in the ocean. I sink below, not caring at all about the consequences of him inside me. fuck working together; I need him. "where should I cum?"

"in me." I groan.

"beg." he commands easily, watching my face contort in pleasure. I could pretend to fight it, to give a little attitude, but I don't want to. I love begging for him.

"fill me up, Matthew. please." each word punctuated by the breathlessness of my voice. he gets even more ferocious with me, beating up my pussy until I'm sure he's going to leave me sore.

"right there, right there," he gasps, hitting the same spot that makes me go cross-eyed. "such a good little slut."

his cum shoots into me, deep and warm and erotically twisted, and I nearly collapse. it feels weird, but so good at the same time. full. he groans out my name and withdraws, quick to grab my shoulders and hold me up as I almost fall. I hadn't realized that most of my body weight was supported purely by his thrusts.

"whoa." he lets out a tired laugh, gentle in his touch. I'm heaving air into my lungs.

"sorry." I apologize, my body unstable.

"are you okay?" he seems genuinely concerned and I nod.

"yeah, I'm fine. just a little overwhelmed."

"here," he scoops me into his arms and brings me over to the old love seat in the dressing room, laying his jacket down before putting me on top of it. "can I get you something?"

"Sprite." I gesture to the glass on the vanity, and he smiles as he goes to get it. I gulp down whatever remains of it. "thanks."

"of course." he keeps glancing at my face and the red marks on my hips where he was clutching me like a lifeline. "I'm sorry."

"what?" I set the cup down. "don't ever be sorry for fucking me like that."

"no, I meant--" he laughs, but then he sees my playful expression and realizes that I'm genuinely alright. I think my legs were asleep.

"you're a saint." I tell him. he frowns and shakes his head bashfully. I'm already getting up and collecting my clothes. "or maybe what we just did prevents you from reaching sainthood. I don't know."

he places his hand on my lower back, kisses my forehead tenderly.

"seriously. you're okay?"

"I'm perfectly fine," I assure him. "but I would be better with a milkshake."

Matthew breaks into a slow grin, staring at me like I've done something miraculous.

"how are you so perfect?"

#matthew gray gubler #mgg smut #mgg oneshot #mgg x reader

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stealing-jasons-job · 3 years

Text

Dear fanfic readers...

I want to start this by saying I love you all. Seriously. I honestly wouldn’t still be writing fanfic if you guys didn’t exist. And I think that’s probably true of a lot of writers. We thrive on readers enjoying our work, leaving kudos/comments, reblogging, sharing with friends, etc. And 99% of people who read/comment don’t fall into this category.

But I have to address something. Er, I have to address a few somethings. Tonight, one of my dear friends received a nasty comment on one of their fics. It was, frankly, a mean rant disagreeing about the choices said writer made in the chapter update. But what really struck me was what they said at the end of the comment—that they admire the author’s work and that they are excited about future chapters. Which to me, meant that they meant their comment as a constructive criticism rather than to be purposefully hateful.

Which leads me to my first “something”:

Long comments about things you personally disagree with in a story is not constructive criticism.

I say this as someone who gives actual constructive criticism to writers for a living. Calling someone’s work horrible or hollow or misguided or flat or [insert long list of other adjectives I’ve seen non-writers call someone’s work] isn’t constructive criticism. It’s not constructive. It’s just mean.

Moreover, constructive criticism has to be founded on mutual trust. If you’re commenting on ao3 or Tumblr or Twitter on someone’s work who did not ask you specifically for constructive criticism, that trust isn’t there.

You’re welcome to your opinions about someone’s story or work. But you are not welcome to share those negative opinions when you don’t have consent. Even when you DO have consent, that constructive criticism needs to be well-structured to include real reasons why something isn’t working in a story (”I don’t personally agree with this choice” is not an example of a real reason) and ways to improve. That respect is the very least a writer deserves when someone is asked (notice how I bolded asked, bc it’s fucking important) to give feedback on work that they spent time and effort on. Which leads me to my next “something”:

Fanfic is provided for free, but that doesn’t mean it doesn’t cost something.

I saw a post on here recently (linked here) that talked about how fanfic is provided at no cost to the reader, but that doesn’t mean it’s “free” for the writer. And this is something I think some non-writers don’t quite understand.

Writing a story—whether it be based on characters from a TV show like this fic or based on original characters of your own creation—is a lot of fucking work. It takes hours of your time and so much mental energy. There's the planning and the plotting and the actual writing and the editing and the working up the nerve to post it so that others can see it and hopefully like it. And all of that labor, all of that emotional/mental/physical labor is done for free. So that the stories in our heads and hearts can exist and so that readers can enjoy them.

EVERY choice is thought out. Every. Single. One. Every conversation is considered, every dialogue tag is placed with intention, every choice the character makes is one we make first. And do we always agree with the choices our characters make? Do these choices always perfectly mirror what would likely happen in real life or even if another write were to have written the story? No, not always. But damn if we didn't have a reason for letting them make them regardless. Every facet of a story is considered—especially for longer fics.

So hours of work and a mountain of emotional, mental, and physical energy is put into a fic. Writers open up a door for readers to see into our minds and hearts and souls for these stories. And the very least readers can do is tell us when those stories resonates, and be kind and respectful regardless of if it resonates or not. Deciding to shit on a story because you don't personally agree with the direction the story is headed? That's heartbreaking. And irritating. And frankly unmotivating.

Which brings me to my final “something” of this post:

Negativity and indifference are killing Fandom.

We’ve all seen how Fandom (and I’m not just talking about one specific fandom, I’m talking about capital-F Fandom as a whole) has gone downhill in recent years. There’s less engagement with works, less discussion happening between readers/creators/writers/casual viewers of a fandom, and more writers/creators leaving Fandom behind.

That’s mostly because of negativity and indifference. There are a lot of posts about how people (and I include myself in this because I really need to do better, and I’ve been trying) need to make a mindful effort to comment on fics you like, kudos fics you like, reblog, retweet, converse with your favorite writers/creators, etc. So I won’t harp on that again here.

But negativity is another culprit here. Putting a fic or a piece of art out into the world is terrifying. More terrifying to some than others, but there are nerves and anxieties that go into it no matter who you are. And unlike paid authors publishing books or showrunners air tv shows, the only thing we get in return are the kudos/comments/reblogs/retweets from readers. That’s it. So when we put hours of time and effort and those little pieces of our soul into works only to be met with indifference or hateful comments (even when they are misguided attempts at constructive criticism), it makes the benefit of all that work less and less appealing.

I’ve seen too many writers abandon works and leave fandoms (including t100 fandom, specifically the bellarke fandom) because of this. And I hate it. We have too many talented writers and creators for that. Moreover, the world needs those talented writers and creators to keep making things they love for it to keep spinning (a topic for another long Tumblr post).

So how can Fandom be a better place for writers/creators?

First thing’s first, participate. See a piece of art you loved? Reblog it. Read a fic you adored? Comment something to that effect. Find authors or creators you admire? Reach out to say hey! Or just hit the follow button and interact with posts if you’d rather not say hi. We appreciate all of it and love you immensely for it.

But the kicker once you start participating is doing it mindfully. Think about what you’re commenting and whether it’s helpful or harmful. A long string of emojis bc you can’t put how much you loved a fic into words? We love to see it. Novel-length tags in your reblogs about your favorite lines? Will probably make our day. DMs or asks about upcoming chapters or fic ideas? We’ll scream our joy and talk your ear off.

A rant about how you thought the characterization of Bellamy in this fic was off? That’s not helpful if the writer didn’t ask you specifically for that kind of feedback. And hateful comments about how a fic needs to be updated sooner or how a certain update didn’t mean your qualifications for how you personally wanted a story to continue? Definitely not helpful (and a honestly a dick move).

I have no qualms about speaking on behalf of all fanfic writers when I say that we LOVE every single person who reads our shit. We thrive on people reading our stories and then telling us and their followers how much they loved it. No (kind) comment goes unnoticed or unappreciated.

So please, please, please spread kindness whenever you can to writers and creators. <3

All my love,

A fanfic writer who is terrified that negativity is going to drive all my fandom friends away, and who might get carpal tunnel if I have to write another novel-length rebuttal to someone being an ass on AO3 to one of my friends

#fandom #the 100 fandom #fanfiction #for the love of god be kind to writers/creators #this was long but like it needed to be said #so no regrets #y'all read 100k fics on the reg so y'all can read this lol #to all the readers who comment and kudos and share their fics #I LOVE YOU

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joezworld · 3 years

Note

📁

Specifically, any headcanons of the Sodor Engines interacting with the internet, or the internet in general?

For some reason, I’d imagine that podcasts and the like are popular among vehicles in general.

That is a question that I've been working on for some time - because I'm workshopping my own Tornado headcanon (and boy oh boy does she use the internet a lot) - but I have some ideas for the Sodor engines as well:

Henry is probably the most "plugged in" engine on the island, weirdly enough. One of his drivers gave him an iPod back in the early 2000s, and kindly preloaded it with a bunch of torrented music.

BTW, that works because all the engines are now equipped with automatic train warning systems, and the little on-board computer has a USB port - as a nice side effect it allows music players to work with the engines in the same way as bone-conducting headphones do. The computer also acts as some kind of computer interface, which I am not going to explain how that works because Jesus Christ I don’t know how it does either.

Henry has managed to upgrade his iPod a few times since thanks to hand-me-down units from NWR staff, so he eventually got his buffers on a wifi-enabled iPod Touch and now downloads new music from the station wifi. He does listen to podcasts, but as every other engine will tell you, you could show Henry ten thousand new and exciting songs from the best artists in the world, and his top ten played songs are still going to be Genesis, Phil Collins, and Yes. Bear considers it a win that he managed to convince Henry to regularly listen to Rush after a mere twenty years of convincing.

Mavis and Daisy listen to a very interesting program called The News, because as stated elsewhere, they invest a shitload of money and need to be on top of things. Thomas and Percy wish that Daisy would use headphones or something similar to that, instead of listening to Bloomberg TV at loud volumes in the middle of the night. Toby frankly doesn’t mind, as it’s very nice to be kept up-to-date on the outside world.

In a move that surprises no-one, Bill and Ben have a podcast where they talk about whatever they think about at that moment - usually horse-racing, investing, and clay mining. As such, they have a wide audience, almost none of whom know that they’re that Bill and Ben, as their podcast is audio-only.

In an also unsurprising move, Edward and BoCo have been made very much aware that Bill and Ben have a podcast, but are still unsure as to what the hell a podcast is, despite being frequent guests on it.

Of the main line diesels, only Bear has shown any real interest in the internet, and was immediately put in charge of the Amazon Alexa when a unit was installed in the diesel shed. He also has an iPod that he got for Christmas a few years back. (The NWR has a very good personal electronics recycling program called give it to Henry, he’ll make use it.)

Bear does listen to podcasts as well as music, but his choices are so insufferably boring that even Henry refuses to listen to them. (I don’t really listen to podcasts - despite making one - so insert the most boring podcast you can think of here.)

As for other internet uses...

Gordon is very up-to-date on the newest social media trends - somehow - but only really cares when he is involved. He won’t admit it, but he’s been trying to figure out how to work a camera/selfie stick for some time so he can start up his own Instagram account. So far he has been unsuccessful, but one day he will manage it.

James has had an ongoing feud with his own Wikipedia page for about a decade now. The article sourced most of its information about his construction off of some out-of-print book about the L&Y. The book in question is accurate about James’ class, but not James himself - as he was a prototype engine. There’s no other primary sources available, so the very dedicated Wikipedia mod who created the page won’t change it - no matter how much James complains that he was there! He knows what happened!

Every now and again a TTTE fan blog/tumblr will make a post about hypothetical “ships” of the Sodor engines. Most of the time it’s shipping the core characters like Gordon and Henry, much to Gordon’s bafflement and Henry’s amusement!

Only one blog (a ttte fan tumblr by the curious name of @mean-scarlet-deceiver ) has gotten it right. Henry actually reached out to congratulate this blogger, but was unfortunately mistaken for a very dedicated roleplay account.

James is very annoyed by these blogs, as they have never once correctly guessed who he is “shipped” with! He has tried several times to be seen in public with Delta, but these events have never gone as planned - the “best” instance is when Edward rolled by at exactly the wrong moment, leading to months of speculation that JamesxEdward was the ship to look out for!

Thomas, being a generally oblivious sort of engine, was totally unaware of the online fan community around the TV show until he started getting actively harassed by vloggers and Instagrammers in the early 2010s. He’s fine with it now, but it was a deeply unusual experience for most of 2012.

Toby has developed an unexpectedly popular following on social media following his collab with Stormzy. His official twitter is huge now, with over a million followers, even if he has no idea what to do with it. He posts rarely, but usually manages to make an incredible post when he does.

No-one is sure who told Oliver what a “fan-production” is, but if you manage to get ahold of him for any period of time and ask him nicely, he will lend his voice to your TTTE fan-project, so long as it isn’t about [INSERT TERRIBLE SOCIAL/POLITICAL VIEW(S) HERE]. This means that he has 100% voiced dramatic readings of NSFW Fanfics before, which is always an absolute riot to spring on people unannounced.

There is a series of slice-of-life TTTE fanfics on Ao3 that have been written with such accuracy and innate railway knowledge that people are sure it was written by a Sodor engine, but nobody knows which one.

The Culdee Fell Railway has very active Instagram, Twitter and YouTube accounts, with all of the engines and coaches showing up regularly. It’s about the closest any of the railways on Sodor have come to what those outside the UK would call “normal locomotive social media”.

The Skarloey Railway has social media accounts too, but they don’t really feature the engines in any meaningful way, instead being used as a normal service announcements page.

The SR is a real working railway that doesn’t rely on tourism money as much as the others do, so they get a bit of a pass here.

The Arlesdale Railway has Twitter and YouTube, which didn’t usually get a lot of hits until 2020, when Ivan and Amanda Farrier started badgering the staff to make some videos just to alleviate some boredom. So far the most popular videos on the channel are a front-mounted camera video of the entire line slow-tv style, Bert explaining how steam engines work, and a video of Mike complaining about Justin Bieber for a solid half-hour.

That’s about it as far as Sodor goes, but before we’re done, I want to take a moment to talk about Tornado, because I have some fun ideas for her...

First of all, we need to establish that Tornado is very young. Her construction only started in late 90′s, and she was steamed to life in 2000, putting her firmly into the “Zoomer” category. Add in the fact that she was built by a bunch of old men who didn’t really know how to treat a new engine, and she was raised much more like a human than a locomotive - I’ll get to this much more in the proper Tornado Headcanon post, but what this means here is that when social media started being a thing in the mid-to-late 2000′s, the people at the A1 Trust decided that they needed a young person to run things like Twitter, Facebook, and Myspace... and, well, Tornado was the youngest person in the trust by a large margin.

I should state here that in the rest of the world, locomotives are on the internet at roughly the same level as humans are, so there’s plenty of equipment to connect a phone/computer/camera to an engine - being English, the A1 Trust didn’t know how common it was, but they managed to get it up and running just the same.

So Tornado has very quickly become attuned to the internet, just like any other teenager would. (yes, let’s let that settle into our minds for a moment - Tornado is barely old enough to drink in the US!) Quite naturally that means that she knows social media inside and out, and is actually quite a proficient social media manager for the trust, managing all of their social pages. More than one person who has complained about the trust on twitter has unknowingly been complaining to Tornado herself!

“On the internet, nobody knows that you’re a dog Engine”.

Tornado has her own personal social media accounts too, but most/all of the time she gets mistaken for a very dedicated role-player, as the general perception of British Locomotives is that they don’t tweet. This has resulted in some amazing reactions from podcast hosts (because, as you might expect, Tornado is very knowledgeable about steam traction in the 21st century, and tweets about it often, so train podcasts want to talk to her) when she gets invited onto video calls, turns on her webcam, and is met with screams from people who suddenly realize that her profile picture is accurate.

By far the best instance of this is when she was invited onto a video call with a railfan podcast. She was at the NRM at the time and managed to convince them to let her use their Skype setup. A wide-angle lens was needed because she was on the turntable in the Great Hall, so that podcast quickly got sidetracked when her webcam was turned on and revealed Tornado, with Mallard, Evening Star, City of Truro, and Green Arrow visible behind her. Whatever the original topic was quickly got thrown out in favor of a 2-hour Q&A with some of the most famous engines in the UK.

#ask response #the internet #ttte thomas #ttte toby #ttte bill and ben #ttte gordon #ttte daisy #ttte mavis #ttte henry #ttte bear #ttte oliver #tornado #nrm #trains using the internet #ttte #sodor #sodor shenangians #the formatting on this one is super fucked up and i can't figure out how to fix it - sorry

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mrs-hatake · 3 years

Text

here comes the bride: chapter one

pairings: levi x female!reader + minor zeke x female!reader.

genre: alternate universe, illegal car racing, suggestive themes, arranged marriage, strangers to lovers, slow burn, falling in love, eventual smut, heavy make out sessions, hurt/comfort & fluff.

Prologue

A/N: aaannnddd we're back!!apologize for the delay but I've been super busy with japanese and suffered from a writer's block but we're here now so it's all good!

a huuuuggee thank you for my tumblr friend @petrichor-writes for brainstorming and proof reading this chapter :(

trigger warning at the end for a traumatic reaction due to the loss of a loved one.

this fic can be found on ao3 under copycatshinobi

“I can’t believe she’s doing it at a hospital of all places.”

“I think it’s nice of her to be so considerate.”

“Still, I can’t believe she’s doing it here.”

Y/N ignores the hushed whispers as she gracefully makes her way to her mother’s private suite.

It’s not like she isn’t aware of what they were talking about. Everyone working at the hospital has gotten wind of the spontaneous wedding occurring today in one of their few V.I.P rooms. And, frankly, Y/N doesn’t blame them. It isn’t unheard of nor is it uncommon for people to get married at weddings but to arrive at the hospital in a wedding gown while her groom, the priest and her family are all waiting for her in her mother’s quarters.

If the roles were reversed and Y/N was working at the hospital while some rich heiress was going to get married, she would probably be gossiping with her colleagues as well. She might even feel empathetic towards the girl if she discovered the truth behind her marriage.

Y/N glances down at her wedding dress.

She is wearing a pearl white sweetheart cut wedding dress with tiny specks of diamond embedded into the bodice of the dress. The dress is maxi in length and hugs her snugly, accentuating all of her curves. The train of her wedding dress is held by one of the nurses attending to her mother so that it will not stain. Not that the hospital floors are dirty, this is one of the most prestigious and expensive hospitals money can admit you in, nothing but the best for mother, so it is unfathomable for it to be dirty. Nonetheless, it is still a hospital and anything could happen.

Her make-up is minimalistic yet simple and it highlights her natural beauty, making her pleasing to the eyes.

Outwardly, she appears calm, collected and elegant but her heart is beating erratically, badum badum badum it goes, louder than any drum heard in a rock song. Her palms are sweaty and if she releases the colorful bouquet, sweat stains will be seen on the wrapping.

She is shaking like a leaf threatening to fall on a windy autumn day. Her throat is so dry that she wouldn't feel hydrated if she chugged a whole gallon of water. She feels lightheaded, as if walking on clouds and her stomach churns with the threat of unleashing all of its contents of buttered toast and milk upon her beautiful dress.

Click, click, click, goes her high heels, in perfect harmony with her booming heart and they both stop when she reaches the door to room seven seven zero two.

Y/N closes her eyes and inhales shaky puffs of air with great difficulty. The comforting hand on her shoulder from the nurse accompanying her goes unnoticed by her as it does nothing to ease her nervousness. A fleeting thought goes through her mind, she could turn around and she would run, lungs on fire, to the safety of her bedroom and would magically travel back in time to when she was a child. Her mother is healthy and Y/N’s existence is unchained.

Badum, badum, badum, badum and the door handle is twisted downwards.

When Levi was informed by his father that he is to be wed to the chairman’s oldest daughter and the heiress of Hoken, their partnering company for the past twenty five years, he felt conflicted.

Levi had been infatuated with Y/N since the day their fathers had introduced them to one another. The world around him melted, only Y/N appeared in the blank void he was floating in. She had a charming smile on her pink lips that made Levi’s ears heat up in embarrassment.

With time, he had noticed Y/N personality despite their brief interactions. She is polite, soft spoken yet confident and detrimental. She isn’t scared to back down from an argument yet never once did she seem rude with her eloquent vernacular.

Achingly, Levi is reminded of his mother back in her prime. When she ran Sicherheit , the insurance company his father is currently in charge of. He doesn’t remember much of his mother as she had been taken away from them in a tragic accident, what Levi does remember, is her fiery spirit whenever he had the opportunity to visit her at work. Though, unlike his mom, Y/N seemed tamer in comparison, kinder. However, that only peaked his interest in wanting to get to know her and see what she is truly like.

This is where Levi’s conundrum comes in. He wished he would form a relationship with Y/N through traditional practices; being friendly with each other, sharing contact information, going on dates until they slowly fall deeper and deeper in love, so deep it feels like they’re falling to the cold and dark abyss, though, it’s not cold and it’s not dark, for on the other side, is the most beautiful place they’d ever witness, a place built from their love.

However, after listening to his father’s explanation of this instantaneous wedding, Levi understands that he does not own the privilege to live out his fanciful daydreams. Levi must carry out the duties as the acting CEO of his retired father until he fully inherits the company through the merging of the two companies by marrying Y/N. His heart bleeds for Y/N, he knows the chairman’s wife is a beloved woman who is cherished by her two daughters. And Levi is quite familiar with the pain of losing one’s own mother.

Still, regardless of the order of how they came to be, be it in the traditional route of them flirting, dating and then finally falling in love or skipping all of the steps, Levi can’t say that he isn’t pleased with this spontaneous wedding as he will be marrying Y/N, the woman he had been infatuated with for two years.

Y/N is ethereal, is what his brain screams at him as she steps into the private suite in nude colored six inch heels and a long wedding gown. Levi’s eyes are instantly drawn to her shoulder length hair which she has it in a semi-up hairdo; one half is pulled up and the second half cascades down her shoulder blades in elegant waves, two locks of hair framing her face giving it a more youthful appearance.

And as Y/N steps further into the room, her father hooks his arm with hers and leads her to where he is currently standing, right in front of the edge of her mother's bed, and Levi hears the chairman's wife choking back a sob and he really can’t blame her because he honestly feels the same way. After two years of yearning and pining after the woman of his dream, he is finally able to marry her.

Chairman Masamune parts with his daughter leaving a delicate, yet lingering kiss on her hand. And if Levi had been paying attention to the chairman instead of his breathtaking bride, he would’ve noticed the tears collecting in the corners of his eyes. The chairman returns to his place next to Tsukiko who is currently filming the private ceremony on a handheld Panasonic video camera with a wide stretched grin.

The two of them silently listened as the priest began the ceremony, Levi is certain that chairman Masamune’s wife is joyfully weeping as she is finally witness to her daughter’s wedding.

Levi’s heart is beating louder, drowning out all of his senses. Suddenly, it feels like everyone in the room has vanished, save for him and Y/N. The beeping of the monitor, the chairman’s wife’s tiny little sniffles, the whirring of the ventilators, all of them were gone.

Only when the priest had announced, “It’s time to recite your vows.” did Levi feel everyone around him teleported into their little universe.

When they are asked to recite their vows, the ever attentive Levi doesn’t miss Y/N’s despairing tone of voice, a battle she had terrifically lost before she could even put up a fight.

“You may now kiss the bride.” The priest announces and an electrical jolt brings Levi to life.

He glances at the priest, as if to confirm what he had just heard, and the man subtly nods his head in encouragement for him to proceed.

Levi doesn’t allow his anxiousness to show on his face as he lifts his hands with firm steadiness to unveil his bride. Though, he fails to hold in a gasp once Y/N’s beauty is fully revealed to him.

She has her gaze cast downwards, but when she hears his gasp, as if he were strangled by some deranged man demanding him for any valuable items he has on him, she lifts her gaze up and locks it with his.

And what Levi sees in those eyes that he had admired so dearly, is the reason he hears a sharp crack onto his erratically beating heart.

Y/N’s eyes are soulless, as if this is the last place she’d rather be in and Levi is the last human being she would rather marry, like their wedding is the last thing she wanted, and he wasn't wrong in making that assumption nor does Levi blame her.

But god does he wish she wanted him.

He is in a similar situation as her where he is forced to marry someone he is barely an acquaintance with, though, the glaring contrast between them is that he is in love with her and she isn’t in love with him.

Levi didn’t expect Y/N to possess enamor when she stood before him on their wedding day, however Levi hoped that she would appear a bit more bashful towards this whole ordeal. Though, he supposes one of the reasons he had fallen for her was her honesty.

Circumspect in his movement, like a predator trying not to scare off its prey, he leans in and does not overlook the way Y/N’s muscles tense up and her eyes shutting tight.

Pain plunges deep into his abdomen at the reaction, however, he does not blame her. He sees the way her eyelashes moisten, a silent prayer for him not to kiss her lips.

A soft coo could be heard from his left side, where Y/N’s mother is resting on the bed, as he plants his lips on her forehead in a gentle yet affectionate kiss, which he hopes conveys all the love he actually felt for her.

After the ceremony, Levi and Y/N made their way to their new apartment that chairman Masamune had gifted to the both of them.

The drive there was silent, eerily so, though it did not unnerve Levi. His attention is focused on the road as images of their little wedding replayed in his head. After Levi had kissed Y/N’s forehead, soft cheers erupted and Levi could’ve sworn chairman Masamune had been silently crying.

Tsukiko had bought a small wedding cake, only two tiers, with orange blossoms scattered here and there. Levi took a mental note to look up the meaning behind that particular flower that Y/N’s sister had chosen specifically for the both of them. Though, he has an inkling that it has something to do with love and prosperity.

They arrive at their apartment complex and Levi is aware how deafening Y/N’s silence was during the ride. He kept glancing at her from time to time, to make sure that she was okay, and he wasn’t surprised to see her blank expression still intact.

Even when he parks the car and kills the engine, Y/N is as quiet as a mouse.

“Do you...Need help?” Levi asks with a small voice - it felt odd to use his normal voice when his wife is in such a state of silence - and gestures to her train.

Y/N's pout deepens a bit and she shakes her head no, exiting the car with the train of her dress bunched up in her hands and she closes the car door with her hip- a bit loudly and perhaps in irritation though Levi but said nothing quirking an eyebrow - and goes to wait for him at the lobby.

Their new home is on the eighth floor and lights were switched off when Levi unlocked the door, allowing his wife to access, without bothering to switch on the lights.

Levi holds back the sigh that’s threatening to break through and flicks the light switch. To both of their surprise, their apartment has already been furnished in a modern-esque design with a dash of color.

The living room is located at the end of the entrance hall on the right and when Levi rounds the corner, he sees Y/N hunched in front of the coffee table, where a bouquet of red roses is on the centre of the glass top, and is reading a card in her hand.

Levi contemplates coming up behind her to read the card, though, he instantly dismisses the thought when he remembers how invasive that would be of him.

He leaves her be for now and continues to explore his new home.

As Levi wanders around the apartment, Y/N glances down at the card in her hand and rereads it again, a heavy and anguished sigh silently escaping her lips.

Congratulations on your wedding, Y/N. I’m sorry I couldn’t attend, i bet you looked gorgeous as always.

Your bags have been packed for your trip tomorrow. I’ll watch over your apartment while you’re gone.

Have fun!

With love,

Yukiko

Yukiko was Y/N’s nanny while growing up. She had been charged with her care for as long as Y/N could remember. Both her and her sister had their own nannies that watched over them while their parents were busy. Yukiko and Mei were like mothers to Y/N and her sister.

Her mother had informed her before her wedding day that nanny Yukiko would be staying in the same apartment complex as her and Levi, just one level below, and she will be taking care of their home during the day and will return to her own kids at night.

Placing the card on the glass table, Y/N sits up and guesses her way to her bedroom, dreading the night ahead.

The new home that Mr. Fujikawa has provided for them is luxurious but it has that oddly homey feel to it. As of now, his favorite place is the kitchen. He doesn’t know how to cook but the lavishness of it bubbles his blood with excitement, bringing a slight smile to his face as his head fills with images of him cooking his and Y/N’s meals.

He opens the fridge and it fuels the excitement within him even more as it is filled with all sorts of food and drinks. The cabinets are filled with colorful spices, plates and glasses in different shapes and sizes and some had coffee and an assortment of cereal. Levi scrunches his nose at the boxes of wheat and artificial honey flavor.

Levi easily spots the guest bathroom, glancing in, he is impressed by the size of it. It’s so big it has space for a shower stand, a bathtub, a state of the art toilet and a porcelain sink with a very large mirror above. If this is the guest bathroom, he can’t imagine what the bathroom in the master bedroom would look like.

Overall, the apartment is spacious, furnished and most importantly; clean to Levi’s relief, though his inner germaphobe urges him to clean it himself as soon as he is able to. He subtly nods his head.

All that there is for him to see is the master bedroom and a guest room. He peeks his head into the guest bedroom and is satisfied by the sheer simplicity of it. Though, he takes note how bare the guest bedroom is and is conflicted by whether it being unfurnished is a good or a bad thing. On one hand, it’s good that it’s in such a state so that their guests could decorate it how they see fit. Yet on the other hand, it’s bad because what if they had an emergency where someone needed to stay and they didn’t have any blankets or pillows to give to them? Levi makes a mental note to purchase extra blankets, bed sheets and pillows to keep inside the closet for future reference.

Stepping out of the room, he almost runs into Y/N but he quickly steadies himself and gestures for her to go right ahead. He rubs his temple when she walks by, Levi had seriously underestimated the difficulties of a one sided love marriage. Well, it’s one sided to him as Y/N is mostly likely unaware of his true feelings. She probably believes that this whole marriage is loveless and is nothing but a business transaction, though that brings a deep frown to his face.

Levi refrains from sighing and follows after his wife… until he accidentally bumps into her. He ignores the annoyed look thrown his way and peers into whatever thing that has his wife standing in the middle of the doorway.

Ah yes, one bed.

Glancing at his wife, he doesn’t miss the way her shoulders are tense and apprehensiveness glimmers in her eyes.

Clearing his throat to bring attention to himself, Levi smoothly says, “I’ll take the couch until they furnish the guest bedroom.”

The way Y/N instantly relaxes, shoulders sagging, fills Levi with disappointment. He understands why Y/N feels uncomfortable sharing a bed with him, he is a stranger to her after all. Though, Levi had that glimmer of hope that maybe Y/N would be okay with performing the basics of marriage.

He brushes past her, he could practically feel Y/N’s eyes on him as he walked, her intense stare is burning him alive and it makes his skin crawl as he collects his nightwear that he had sent to the apartment as per Mr. Fujikawa’s instructions. This time, he silently sighs.

Once Levi leaves the bedroom and makes a beeline to the living room, Y/N let’s go of a breath she hadn't noticed she was holding. She closes the bedroom door and leans against it, head tilted backwards until the top of her head brushes against the wooden door.

She should feel guilty that her husband will be sleeping on the couch but since he was the one who offered it, then it’s not her problem.

So, why did she feel a sharp pain in her heart when she glanced at the empty bed?

The hotel they arrive at - after taking a two hour flight at nine am sharp - is small in size and is designed similarly to traditional Japanese houses with a genkan entrance hall and Shōji partitions, no doubt an ideal lodging for foreigners who romanticize Japan.

The soft thud of the tatami floors as the bellboy places their luggages is deafening.

It was eerily silent and Y/N briefly wonders if the young adolescent is aware of Y/N’s distaste in Levi and the fact that she isn’t quite satisfied with the marriage. She bets that he’s going to gossip about them in the staff room.

Y/N leaves the unpacking to Levi and heads straight to the window which overlooks the hilltop the hotel is built on. The red leaves of the forest below stretches for miles into the horizon. If they hadn’t driven through that very forest in the minivan the hotel provided to pick them up from the airport, Y/N would’ve believed that the hotel was sailing through a sea of blood.

Rummaging through her purse for her phone, she snaps a couple of snapshots and sends it to the family group chat.

Instantly, she received a reply.

What a breathtaking view!!

Send us pictures of you and Levi!!

Read her mother’s messages, probably written and sent with the help of Tsukiko.

Withholding the urge to roll her eyes and sigh heavily, Y/N responds.

We’re a bit tired from our flight 😔 but i’ll make sure to send some pics later 😊

Levi and Y/N have their first lunch together as a married couple at the garden located behind the hotel. It is dangerously close to the cliff edge but there are railings for people’s safety and, honestly, the view is just breathtaking.

Their menu is the standard Japanese cuisine, it is quite expensive but considering their honeymoon expenses are paid by her father, the cost didn’t concern them.

Levi and Y/N are seated at the honeymoon table, under the shade of a large Rowan tree. The wind passing through the branches made the red leaves seem like they were murmuring.

Once the two had placed their order, their waiter politely smiles at them and asks, “May I take your picture?”

Y/N is going to refuse when Levi beats her to it and agrees. She would’ve thrown a nasty stare his way if the waiter wasn’t there.

The tall waiter holds Levi’s iPhone and angles it how he sees fit...only to frown and glance over the device, “Scootch a little bit closer, please.” He motions with his hand for the two to lean in.

Working a corporate job where Y/N had to meet countless clients everyday and hold meetings with several businessmen had taught her how to excel a fake, yet authentic, bright smile. She makes sure to fake a look of affection as she can feel Levi lean silently into her.

The camera clicks and the waiter coos for another picture because they looked absolutely adorable. “Put your arm around her and ma’am, please show me something. You’re too beautiful to have a closed lip smile.”

Y/N’s eye twitched at the requests of the waiter and she thought about complaining to the manager but she did as told and allowed for Levi to hover his arm over her shoulder. She is certain that he could sense the way her body tenses in response to his close vicinity but she ignores it.

Y/N isn’t doing it for appearance sake or to be considerate of Levi’s feelings, on the contrary, she doesn’t give a flying fuck what other people, especially Levi, would have to say about her. They could call her ungrateful for all she cares.

The only reason Y/N smiles into the camera, allows for Levi to be near him and pretend that the two are having a good time rather than the awkward atmosphere they’re in, is because of her mother.

Her mother who had given her the world on the palm of her calloused hands. Her mother had screaming matches with her father for her daughters. Her mother who had sacrificed so much for their future.

So, she slaps a smile on and poses for the camera.

“Gorgeous!” The camera man smiles after taking two more snaps and returns the phone to Levi. “You two make a lovely couple.”

The rest of their day goes about in a similar manner. Her mother had booked a trekking expedition with a group of tourists for their first day and they would constantly stop to take pictures. Y/N could feel the muscles in her cheek throb in pain for constantly stretching her lips for nearly five hours straight.

Seriously, she doesn’t understand why they had to take so many pictures and in so many places. They took ten at the temple hidden in the forest (She counted them herself), took a couple by the river (some with Levi), under the trees (Levi mostly took pictures of her which irritated Y/N but she couldn’t do anything about it as she is in a public space and going to jail is not worth it) and they eventually took a group photo at the end of their trek with Levi’s arm barely making contact around her waist.

She dreads to know what else her mother had planned for the two of them for the next three days, she groans.

Later that night, after the two had their dinner and Y/N sent all sixty five images to her family group chat - that Levi is now a part of- -and her mother blows up her phone with messages of how cute they were together and how glad she is that they are having a good time, Y/N encounters a dilemma- scratch that, two dilemmas, that she had forgotten during her busy and exhausting day.

Dilemma number one is that her nightwear consists of flimsy and see-through babydolls in pinks, purples and baby blues.

Y/N closes her eyes, sighs heavily through her nose, and curses silently at Yukiko for packing her luggage. Of course she would pack something like this. She had been practically praying every night and day for Y/N to get married so it is only natural to let herself get carried away by whatever assistance she believes she’s delivering.

Irritated, Y/N grabs the purple one as it is the darkest shade and rushes to the bathroom to get ready for bed. Levi had gone to the lobby to take an important phone call and felt like she’d rather be flung over the cliff than have her...husband see her in such a ludicrous piece of attire. If you could even call it that.

The second dilemma is that since they are residing at a traditional Japanese hotel, they have to share the smallest tatami bed Y/N has ever seen.

Actually, the tatami bed is large and spacious but to Y/N who is going to be sharing her first night in the same bed with Levi, it feels like the bed is small and it will force her to press against Levi. She feels a shiver rush down her spine at the idea of having Levi holding her in her sleep.

She would’ve cried at how her life turned out, but Levi would notice and he would ask her questions. Something Y/N did not want, thank you very much.

Just as she slips under the covers, their door opens and in steps Levi, who pauses at the doorway when he notices the bed and lack of furniture in the room. He says nothing and makes his way to the bathroom to get ready for bed.

Nearly half an hour later, which felt like mere seconds to Y/N, her heart thunders in her ears when Levi opens the bathroom door and stands at the edge of the bed.

She schools her expression, not allowing for any hint of nervousness to slip through. Though, her breath hitches and her heart won’t stop beating loudly.

And just as Levi sits on the edge of the so-called bed, Y/N swears that her heart stopped beating entirely and she feels like she's about to pass away.

“I know this makes you uncomfortable.” Levi starts and Y/N resists the urge to raise a single eyebrow in surprise. “I can call the front desk for an extra bed if you’d like but I doubt it would fit.”

Despite the two staying in the honeymoon suite, it is still a bit cramped. The only privilege is that they have their own private bathroom and onsen. Other than that, the room is nearly the same size as every other room in the hotel.

Which is why Y/N shakes her head, surprising both herself and Levi.

Levi instantly recovers from that moment of shock and nods his head. “Okay. I promise I won’t touch you.”

Y/N nods her head in return and watches as Levi switches the lamp, engulfing the room in complete darkness, and slips under the sheet.

He leaves enough space between them, enough to let Y/N feel comfortable, but also without having Levi to worry if he is going to fall over or not, the fall wouldn't be too much, but he'd rather not.

It takes them a while, both holding their breaths in anticipation for the unknown before they slip off to dreamland.

Their honeymoon vacation goes on in a similar manner. The two of them would eat breakfast, engage in whatever activity Mamiko had planned for them, take pictures together and send them to the group chat, and end the night by the two of them going to bed, without uttering goodnight.

It’s their last night at the hotel and the lovely couple would depart in the morning.

Y/N is spending her last night in the private onsen - an activity she regrets not engaging in much sooner as it would have helped soothe her aching muscles- and stares at the clear night sky.

She feels a bit disappointed as she was hoping she would see a sea of stars since she never had the privilege seeing them living in the city but not having any light pollution from towering buildings is still something she is grateful for, the pictures of the night sky in her camera roll attest to it.

A rush of air escapes her lips as she submerges her body deeper into the onsen until the water covers her mouth. Slowly, her eyes flutter shut at the tranquilizing atmosphere.

Y/N is so relaxed that she doesn’t hear their hotel room door unlocking and Levi shuffling into the room.

He briefly glances at the bed and is surprised to find it empty, the sheets still made. He stands outside of the bathroom door, leaning his ear against it and listens for any movements. When he hears none, he frowns.

What if she finally built up the courage to run away?

He thinks but then quickly dismiss the thought with a shake of his head.

Just as he is about to call her, he spots the sliding doors which lead to the private onsen in his peripheral vision and pockets his phone.

He slides the door open, and somehow manages to stifle the slight gasp that was about to rip through his lips at the sight he is greeted with.

Y/N.

Naked.

And in the onsen.

Levi licks his lips, suddenly feeling them dry.

Y/N has her shoulder length hair in a messy bun, a few strands framing her exposed shoulder that is littered in moles and freckles, some big, some small, dark brown, light brown, they were endless.

There’s a tingling sensation in his fingers, overtaken with the urge to trace over every single mole on her body.

As if in a trance, Levi’s feet quietly move to the edge of the onsen, and he crouches down, hand stretched out ready for his fingers to lean in and poke the mole on her neck, when his phone buzzes in his back pocket and Y/N emits a terrified shriek.

She glances over her shoulder, and sighs in relief when she spots Levi standing behind her. Though, her relief quickly melts into anger and she hurries to turn around, back facing Levi, and undoes her bun to shield her exposed neck even a bit and wrap her arms around her frame.

“Pervert.” She enunciates loud and clear.

“I-I’m sorry.” Levi apologizes in vain.

When Y/N doesn’t respond, Levi rubs a hand down his mouth and chin and excuses himself to the lobby.

Y/N is angry. That much is clear.

She doesn’t take any more pictures the next day during breakfast before their departure, and doesn't even bother hiding her displeasure.

And Levi can’t really blame her.

He did step out of bounds the previous night. He broke what little trust Y/N had in him because he was consumed by a foreign and powerful spell, her skin called him like a siren and he ached to touch her.

He knows he deserves every glare thrown his way but Levi can’t help but to long for Y/N faking her joy during their short honeymoon where they pretended to be the happily married couple Levi had been fantasizing over since the day he had met her. It wasn’t true but at least it’s a thousand times better than how Y/N is currently treating him. Like dog shit she stepped on.

The second Levi and Y/N step foot into their apartment after a two hour plane ride and a thirty minute ride to their new home, Y/N rushes to her -their- room and is out of the front door faster than Levi could blink. He stares blankly at the door, sighs and plops on the couch with his head in his hands.

“Give her time.”

Startled, Levi lifts his head up and is met with an elderly woman that he had failed to see, too busy watching the angry storm that is Y/N.

“Who are you?” Levi asks, emotional exhaustion finally slipping into his tone of voice.

“Yukiko, Y/N's nanny.” She replies with a charming smile. She places the towel rag on the kitchen island and stares at Levi with kind eyes.

“Would you like some tea?”

The boiling anger inside of Y/N slowly cools down as she recklessly drives her way to the hospital. She is aware that she is being irrational with her anger, knows that as a couple they will have to see each other naked eventually, but she wishes it was a different situation. She sacrificed her own happiness for her mother and agreed to be in an arranged marriage.

She understands that Levi did not see much of her nakedness yet she still feels extremely uncomfortable with the idea of having a strange man laying his eyes upon her naked frame. She felt violated and scared that he would somehow lose himself to his animalistic nature and be consumed by lust and desire to take her then and there.

She knows that she is valid in what she is feeling and is having a rational reaction.

Y/N arrives at the hospital parking lot and stares into the mirror to fix makeup that was ruined by the tears of frustration collecting at the corner of her eyes. When she is satisfied with her appearance, she smiles at her reflection and makes her way to her mother's private suite.

“Y/N!” Mamiko greets with as much joy as she could possibly muster. Even though she is extremely tired and Y/N can see the life slowly draining from her eyes, Mamiko won’t allow them to hinder optimistic spirit. She and Y/N know that she is a fighter and won’t give up so easily.

“Where is Levi?” Her mother asks when she fails to see her son-in-law.

“He’s home.” Y/N replies. “He’s feeling a little bit tired.”

Her mother’s lips forms into a silent ‘o’ and nods her head in understanding.

Y/N takes a seat next to her mothers hospital bed and holds her wrinkled hand in hers, her thumb running across her knuckles and asks, “How are you feeling today? I've missed you.”

The soft pitter patter of the rain outside is drowned by joyous laughter emitted by the two women in the hospital room.

Mamiko is in the middle of telling the story about how she nearly set the temple on fire on her wedding day because she was so nervous that she accidentally knocked over a lit candle and watched with horror as it rolled around until the hem of her aunt’s dress caught on fire, the plump woman was screaming loudly enough to be heard from miles away. Everyone had panicked and Mamiko just wanted to crawl into a hole and die in embarrassment.

No one was hurt as, luckily, someone was smart enough to put out the Fire.

“Mom, you're such a klutz!” Y/N giggles. “How you manage to get this in life is a mystery I will never know.”.

Mamiko wipes a single tear as nods her head in agreement. “Honestly I mostly winged everything. It is some miracle you and your sister have reached this age without any major injuries.”

This makes Y/N laugh harder, her stomach twisting in knots but in a good way. She hasn’t laughed like this in a very long time and she misses her mother's stories.

Sadness threatened to rip the happiness from within her and nestle itself deep into her heart at the known future that is coming their way, a future where her mother is no longer in it. She is sure she would have been overcome by it had it not been for the nurse to knock on the door and open it to inform them that visiting hours are over.

Y/N leans in to kiss her mother's forehead and just as she leans back, her mother cups her cheek and caresses the smooth skin.

“You’ve made me so happy.” she says.

Y/N gazes into her mother's eyes, confusion clearly written in them. “What do you mean? I didn't do anything.”

Her mother smiles that motherly smile and replies, “I got to live long enough to see you married and I hope I live even longer to see myself as a grandmother.”

Instantly, tears gather at the corner of her eyes and Y/N chokes back on a sob.

“You’re going to see it happen, I promise.” She ignores the fact that she is lying to her mother but she can’t tell her the truth, that she is unhappy with her marriage to Levi. Can’t possibly imagine herself being sexually intimate with him and bless her with a beautiful child. She let her mother be blissfully ignorant.

“I love you.” Her mother sniffles in between sobs.

“I love you too.” Y/N shifts her face to the side and kisses mother's palm.

“Say hi to Levi for me.” Her mother smiles up at her, “He's a good man, give him a chance.”

All that Y/N could offer in return is a small smile.

Y/N returns home to her apartment and spots Levi sleeping on the couch with his arm covering his eyes.

A small voice inside of the back of her head tells her that she wishes that Levi had stayed up to wait for her return yet another voice, a louder one, is glad that she doesn't have to see Levi awake; she did not want to deal with him after the events of the previous night.

Opening the fridge, Y/N notices a plate of rice and curry that is wrapped up for her to heat up, no doubt that nanny Yukiko had made for her.

She contemplates on having dinner but ultimately decides that she isn’t hungry enough, still angry about what happened with Levi and feels a cloud of melancholy looming over her after visiting her mother.

She is happy that she had the chance to visit her mother after the honeymoon but seeing her mother weak and frail on the hospital bed ripped her heart into tiny little pieces. Her once strong mother is now a shell of her former self and her beauty is a ghost in the past that can only be seen in pictures.

Y/N unlocks her phone and scrolls through the photo album until she finds the picture she is looking for; the one had taken on her wedding day where she was hugging her mother and kissing the top of her head. She brings the phone closer to her lips and presses a long kiss.

“Goodnight.'' She whispers. “I love you.”

Come Morning, Levi is awoken by a loud scream.

He falls out of the couch, and bumps his head on the tile floor but when he hears that heart wrenching screaming coming from his wife’s room, he scampers to his feet and clumsily makes his way to their bedroom.

What he sees when he opens the door has his heart coming to a sudden stop.

Y/N is clutching a fist-full of her hair in both of her hands, tears rolling down and her face red as she continues to wail loudly at the top of her lungs.

Levi’s breathing quickens and his thoughts are clouded with confusion as he is unaware what he should be doing. Should he crouch next to her, gently un-fist her hands and hold her face in his hands and ask her what was wrong. Or does he remain by the door, wait for her to calm down and see if she would tell him what had happened.

Luckily, Y/N’s phone ringing made the choice for him.

He hears the melody of an upbeat song and follows the source of noise and finds the phone under the bed. He fishes it out and sees that Mr. Fujikawa is calling.

Glancing at the bed where his wife is still wailing, he answers her phone.

“Hello?” He greets, his voice shaky.

“Levi, is that you?” Mr. Fujikawa asks. Levi nods his head but remembers that the other man can’t see him so he gives a verbal response.

“Good. I was calling to ask how Y/N is fairing, but i think you also deserve to know. Listen, I'm not sure how to say this so I’ll be direct. Mamiko passed away early this morning.”

#aot imagine #levi x reader #levi x y/n #levi x you #levi imagine

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deepperplexity · 4 years

Text

Title: A Boggart’s Implosion

A/N: So, found this post on tumblr by @kalkar0s where it partly said: "may i start a discussion on snape's boggart? what would it be?

i'm just riffing here, but what if, based on the theory that snape is a natural occlumens and thus, it's more of an instict to him rather than something he has learned, the boggart wouldn't be able to take on a form because it can't sense his fear?

just imagine snape, taking center stage in front of the closet containing the boggart he just saw half of the classroom face, as it took on many frightening forms, and then...nothing happens... (TO READ THE FULL THING CHECK THE POST LINKED ABOVE)"

And, well, I just had to write this out but with my own take on the whole thing.

Setting: Lupins lesson about Boggarts (and the evening before)

Word Count: 899

Warnings: NONE

Masterlist page // Masterlist post

"Really Lupin, a boggart?" Snape arched his brow expertly at the Defence Against the Dark Arts professor on a slight huff. "Why? You don't think they can handle it, Snape? You scared to have a little boggart here?" Lupin said with a slight grin to his otherwise sincere face marred by scars. Snape gave the other man a sneer before rising from his chair in the staffroom. "I have no fear of such a thing," he said in a low, gruff voice. Lupin smiled, apparently excited as something crossed his mind.

"Why such joy, Lupin?" Snape asked right before he was about to exit the room and head back to his own quarters down in the damp dungeons. "A wager," Lupin said as he leaned back in the rather large chair, "you join my class tomorrow and stand before the boggart and I'll, I don't know, take your nightwatch for two months." "Oh really, and If I don't?" "You take mine," Lupin grinned out; Snape just raised his eyebrow yet again. Obviously not impressed by the grinning professor who was unaware of his losing wager. "Deal," Snape stated without hesitation and then left the room in a cloud of black fabric.

The next day...

"Now, class, today we have a special guest who should arrive any moment," Lupin said with a wide smile after having gone through the introduction of the day's lesson; to defend oneself against a boggart. A murmur broke out and the professor held up his hand to silence the room. "Now," and just then the door swung open with a slight band and in stepped Snape with a stark expression. His black cloak filled the entire door as he walked in with harsh steps.

"Ah, there we are," Lupin grinned out but he seemed a bit less happy as he was not at all hoping to pick up extra nightwatch hours for two months. Nonetheless, to see Snape's boggart would be reward enough he was sure of that. "Now, professor Snape here has kindly agreed to demonstrate-" "No, what I have agreed upon is to stand before the boggart. There will be no demonstration of any sort," Snape hissed in a growl and Lupin held up his hands with a chuckle.

"Well, you do claim to have no fear, we'll soon see about that." A murmur broke out in the room and Snape gave the students a dark look; it effectively silenced the room in one fell sweep. Lupin clapped his hands together in delight. "Well, you all know what to do if the boggart goes after you, right?" he asked the class and all students nodded but their eyes went like the eyes of a judge at a ping-pong match between the mirrored cabinet and Snape. Expectation shined in their little eyes.

"Shall we?" Lupin grinned out and his excitement was palpable. Snape merely took the two long strides required to be at the front so as the boggart would try to read his fear and turn in to whatever that was. Snape didn't take out his wand, he simply stood with his hands in the pockets of his frockcoat. As if he were merely preparing to take a stroll through a park on a dandy fine day. "On my count," Lupin said and the silence laid thick and heavy in the room as tension was rising and students were trying to get closer.

"One, two, three..." Lupin counted and then with a flick of his wand the mirrored cabinet opened and - nothing. Seconds passed, and still nothing. Lupin flicked his eyes between the stoic Snape and the seemingly empty cabinet. Something swirled, slithered, fogged and writhed right at the opening of the cabinet a moment later. Something poured out over the floor before Snape who simply just stood there. No motion, no flicker of emotion crossed his face and no movement to grab his wand.

The boggart changed from form to form, a blurry mess of nothing as it tried to find whatever it was that Snape feared. It bubbled, it sizzled, it hissed and growled. Blurry forms of horrors flashed for a millisecond at a time and then turned to something else. Snape just stood there. Lupin gawked and hushed whispers had broken out in the room - about how Snape had no fears, how he was not normal, how it was all wrong, how nothing scared the professor - as the boggart seemed to nearly implode on itself from frustration and constant shifting.

Snape turned his head towards Lupin who just gawked, eyes and mouth wide open. Snape raised his eyebrow expertly with a grinning sneer on his face. "My next shift is tomorrow at eleven," he said with a sour undertone of victory, "pleasure doing wagers with you, Lupin," he finished and then he left the room in one large billowing cloud of darkness; chuckling to himself as Lupin had to stand before the boggart.

"Fool, no person and no thing can penetrate my mind. Imbecile," he chuckled out right after the door to the stunned classroom had closed behind him. He quite enjoyed the thought of being free from the nightwatch for two whole months, perhaps more wagers with Lupin would relieve him of the rest of the years night service? Now that would be quite nice, he thought as he walked through the castle in a, quite frankly, splendid mood.

So, this was fun to write and it's a change of pace for me ^^ Also, quite nice to write something shorter for once xD Probably the shortest thing I've ever written concerning Snape xD

Well, I hope you liked this! :D Feel free to comment - I LOVE COMMENTS - and please vote if you liked this story :)

Masterlist page // Masterlist post

Tags: @lizlil

#snape #severus snape #professor snape #snapes boggart #boggart #fanfic #fanfiction #snape fanfiction #fic #snape fic #deepperplexity #deepperplexity fic #prompted fic #lupin #professor lupin #remus #remus lupin

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jacksgreysays · 4 years

Note

Hi yes mix-and-match anon so if you're still interested in the asofterworld version of the prompt when I said 31 I meant 31 off of your old asw promptlist which translates to asw 621. If not interested this is just a hi glad you're active on tumblr again! I still love your writing!

A/N: Hello, mix-and-match anon! :D

I’ll be honest, I’m kinda cheating here because I’ve been kinda wanting to write this particular fic (or some iteration of this particular fic) for a while but I didn’t quite know how to construct it. However your prompt finally launched me in a direction even though it’s definitely drifted away from the prompt itself so thank you! I hope you enjoy even though it’s still kinda rough and I’ll probably be editing it over the next couple of days to make it more coherent and less of a bloated run on mess.

meeting and incidents unraveled

Haruno Sakura is not oblivious to the blessings and advantages she has in life.

Caring and supportive parents, a stable home life with all of her needs and a majority of her wants met. Tuition at a good school with an intellect and self-discipline to make the most of it. Pretty enough looks to be, if not popular, then well liked among her peers.

She also is not oblivious to the sort of future all of that will give her.

Acceptance at whichever university she chooses, leading to a solid, successful career in whatever field she chooses. Kind and caring relationships paving their way to a kind and caring marriage. A caring, supportive, stable future just as caring, supportive, and stable as her past.

How boring.

But she doesn't have it in her to rebel and break away, grateful for those blessings and advantages for all that they keep her on a track. There's nothing wrong with success and stability. She's not oblivious to that, at least.

She just wishes for something a little bit... more.

---

I love the way your face lights up

when someone says,

"It might be dangerous."

(I am glad we are friends.)

---

(it could have gone like this)

"Do you think she's lost?" Sakura asks her classmates, bringing their attention to the window. Clean up duties after school are hardly fun, so any distraction is a welcome one.

There's a girl standing in the shadow of the tree in the courtyard. About their age, maybe, but the school uniform doesn't match theirs at all. Almost as if she feels Sakura's gaze, the girl meets her eyes and smiles--but surely that's not right. Sakura is up on the third floor.

"What are you talking about?" Tanaka-kun asks, looking out the window and somehow failing to see. Their other classmates on clean up duty also look, but none of them spot the girl either.

"Oh, nothing," Sakura says, dropping the matter immediately. She doesn't want to be known as the weirdo who sees things that aren't there. "I can't believe Honda-sensei assigned so much homework over the weekend!" She deflects and her classmates follow the prompt easily, the new topic of conversation out of her hands.

When Sakura looks back out the window, the girl in the shadow of the tree waves.

---

Magic is better with three.

This is what Sakura learns after discovering magic is real, after discovering that she herself has magic.

Magic is better with three and magic has different Aspects and the different Aspects of magic resonate with different people.

Sakura's magic, she learns, has Aspects of Earth and Healing and Growth. Those are powerful Aspects, she's been told, she can do a lot of good with that even on her own.

But young magicians are put in teams for a reason. Magic seeks balance. The consequences of misusing magic--of overreaching with magic--are extreme at best and horrifying at worst.

Some lessons are learned the hard way.

---

(it could have gone like this)

"Oh, that's Shikako," Ino answers when Sakura finally brings it up weeks after the fact. Ino's magic has the Aspects of Mind and Flora and Adaptation which resonates nicely with Sakura's--perhaps in another world, they might have ended up on the same team, but in this particular world, well. Naruto and Sasuke are powerful magicians, but they're not very good at answering her questions...

"Shikamaru is one of my teammates," Ino continues, easily, "Shikako is his twin sister." Then her voice drops, tone a little more serious, a little more secretive. "Her Aspects never manifested."

Sakura hasn't fully absorbed all the nuances of magical culture, but this at least she can understand: without Aspects, Shikako can never use active magic.

"But she's absolutely brilliant with the academic side and she already has some research projects from the council," Ino says, quick to balance her words, and that along with the thinly veiled guilt is enough for Sakura to put the matter aside, moving on to other questions.

Still, though, it haunts her; somehow, simultaneously, in two different ways:

Shikako had been the one to find her. The girl in the shadow of the tree following a prototype magic seeker and finding a different girl who had never heard of magic, would never have known of the magic within her. Without Shikako, would she still be that magic-less boring girl destined for that magic-less boring life?

Alternatively, if Shikako had manifested her Aspects, would there even be a space for Sakura in this world of magic?

---

Uzumaki Naruto's Aspects are Sun and Belief and Present. Uchiha Sasuke's Aspects are Moon and Ambition and Past.

There was no doubt that they would be put on the same team.

Frankly, the only question was who could possibly match?

---

(it should have gone like this)

"Do you think she's lost?" Sakura asks her classmates. There's a girl standing in the shadow of the tree in the courtyard; about their age, maybe, but the school uniform doesn't match theirs at all. Almost as if she feels Sakura's gaze, the girl meets her eyes and smiles.

When it seems like none of her classmates can spot the girl in the shadow of the tree, Sakura drops the matter immediately. She doesn't want to be known as the weirdo who sees things that aren't there. She deflects and the new topic of conversation swiftly moves out of her hands.

Sakura looks back out the window, the girl in the shadow of the tree waves. Sakura exits the building, the girl in the shadow of the tree looks at her expectantly.

Sakura could ignore her and keep going--she has homework, after all--but even if she doesn't want to be known as a weirdo amongst her classmates, that doesn't mean she wants nothing interesting to happen in her life ever.

She already knows what will happen if she keeps on walking, ignoring the girl in the shadow of the tree. Sakura will go home, maybe stopping by a store or a cafe on the way. She will do her homework and do her chores and take a bath and eat dinner and sleep and do absolutely nothing out of the ordinary because her life is predictable and that's just a synonym for boring.

So Sakura goes to the tree instead.

"Hello," Sakura says, because even if this girl is merely lost and not some guide to a more exciting world surely there's no harm in being polite. "Can I help you?"

"Maybe," says the girl in the shadow of the tree, lifting one hand palm up. Preemptively, she makes her hand glow with a pale, almost distant light. "Haruno Sakura, do you believe in magic?"

---

Nobody is born with fully manifested magic.

Active magic requires agency, will power and vision. Those are shaped by a magician's sense of self, their personality and convictions. Their Aspects.

There's more, of course. But sometimes more can lead to decisions a little riskier than predicted.

---

(it should have gone like this)

At first there is no team for Sakura which is a little disheartening but also, simultaneously, a relief. Almost all of the other magicians her age have been raised around magic, she already has so much to learn and catch up on that it's almost overwhelming! She can't possibly imagine what it would be like being introduced to a new world and then immediately thrown onto a team with strangers.

But her magical peers are supportive in their own way--most of them friendly, all of them definitely interesting. Their teams are well chosen, Aspects resonating beautifully, and whenever she has the free time in between diving headfirst into her magical studies and maintaining her grades at school she wonders what her teammates will be like. If they'll match her just as nicely. If she'll even have teammates.

"Don't worry," Shikako says with a smile, supportive and kind and definitely interesting. Behind her, her teammates bicker as ever--and while Sakura will admit, blushingly, that she was a little infatuated with Sasuke in the beginning, she would go mad if she had to put up with him and Naruto for too long--but Shikako appears as calm and as fond of them as ever.

"I found you didn't I?"

She did, yes. How she found the time in between her own magical research, high-octane team, and normal schoolwork of her own is baffling to Sakura. She's grateful, of course, but still. Sakura isn't even doing half as much and she's barely keeping up!

"Don't worry," Shikako says again, and if her tone turns a little vague, her gaze going beyond Sakura, well. Shikako is a very powerful magician...

"... you belong in this world. Magic seeks balance."

And Sakura nods, because that is one of the earlier lessons she was taught upon joining the magical world. For all the strangeness of Shikako's tone, it is reassuring. So Sakura nods and continues to voraciously consume all she can about this new world she belongs to so that when her teammates do appear she'll be prepared.

Shikako finds Yakumo first--her Aspects of Sky and Art and Acceptance--then comes Isaribi with the Aspects of Sea and Transformation and Trust. And Sakura finally feels like she actually belongs.

---

Magic is not completely a science, for all that there is cause and effect. It's not entirely an art, either, though some talented magicians make it seem that way. There are some parts of it that are understandable, quantifiable and predicable, but there is so much more that is beyond human comprehension. Even active magic which requires, in essence, humanity, can be beyond explanation.

Aspects are an attempt at doing so, but for all that they determine the futures of most magicians, they can't perfectly encompass the whole of a magician's power. Because magic exists beyond words and definitions. Even abstract concepts can fail. Trying to apply terminology to magic? Might as well punch a god in the face.

And so when a girl born to the magical world, even if her Aspects manifest a little late, if there already exists a place for her on a team where she resonates so powerfully, well.

Stars and Determination and Future are close enough...

... for a human, that is.

---

(but it actually went like this)

A few months after an ordinary day in which no interesting strangers showed up to derail Sakura's life, she is on her way home from school. She's thinking about maybe stopping by a store or a cafe on the way, but maybe not. She still has to do her homework and chores before she can take a bath and eat dinner and sleep and do absolutely nothing out of the ordinary because her life is predictable and that's just a synonym for boring.

A pair of boys--about her age, maybe, but in school uniforms different from hers--stop her. They've been looking for her, they say, and while the dark-haired one is handsome enough that she'd normally blush and think it romantic first words, his tone and the fact that his blonde friend is also there ruins that theory.

Also, they know her name and that's weird. She says as much, which causes them to start bickering, and in their distracted state she takes the opportunity to escape.

The next day, on her way home from school--along the same, predictable path, of course--she is stopped by a strange man. Both unfamiliar and unusual. Almost his entire face is covered and his hair is grey and he slouches as if in apology for his height. He asks her if she believes in magic.

She knows a creep when she sees one and runs in the opposite direction. She'll take the long way home.

The next few days she changes up her route going home because, yes, sometimes she's naïve but she's not completely oblivious. It still doesn't really help though, because this time its a trio of strangers--thankfully around her age--but still not great.

"Those idiots," the girl says, flicking her long blonde ponytail in fashionable irritation, "I can't believe they messed up this bad. What an awful first impression, she's already spooked."

One of the boys, dark hair and sleepy eyes, just shrugs and responds, "Well if she's really going to end up on their team, it's not like her second impression is going to be much better."

If they're talking about who she thinks she's talking about she's not exactly pleased with them either.

The other boy, reddish hair and round cheeks, looks her in the eye and gives a friendly smile. Despite the situation, something within Sakura relaxes a little. "Would you like to try out that cafe? Our treat," he says, and its not an entirely unwanted offer. She doesn't have too much work waiting for her at home and she deserves something nice.

"Okay," she says, and lets them pay for her anmitsu while they tell her about magic, the magical world, and how she fits into all of it.

---

Humans are not the only beings capable of magic.

---

(but it actually went like this)

Sakura is worried and overwhelmed and frustrated and she knows she shouldn't complain because she does honestly enjoy magic and the world its brought her into and she wouldn't dare go back to that ordinary, predictable, boring life.

But she wishes that her teammates weren't so abrasive and prickly, that her teacher were a little more engaged. It's been months already since she joined Naruto and Sasuke's team. She doesn't know why they're being so difficult when she hasn't even done anything wrong!

She's headed to the training grounds but in a wandering path, if she's honest. She's normally a punctual person, but Kakashi-sensei has never once been on time and she can just as easily not talk to her teammates here as she can at the training grounds.

The part of the city she's in isn't so urban as to have skyscrapers, but in this district the buildings are all at least several stories and practical, blocky metal and cement. The looming structure made of curving wood and stone looks more like a tree than anything else.

There is a girl standing in the shadow of the tree that isn’t. She meets Sakura's eyes, smiles, and waves.

Sakura has been studying the magical world. Knows about the dangers young magicians can face in a world that wants to eat them alive. Knows that nice exteriors don't necessarily mean kind hearts.

But she also knows, somehow, that if she walks away now she will never see this girl again.

"Hello," Sakura says, because there's no harm in being polite, "Can I help you?"

"Maybe," says the girl in the shadow of the tree that isn't. "Haruno Sakura, do you believe in destiny?"

---

Gelel: Light, Unity, Creation.

Jashin: Void, Suffering, Destruction.

Magic seeks balance.

Magic is better with three.

---

"If you could," the girl begins, a wistful sort of smile on her face, "tell them I said its not their fault. It was entirely on me. I overreached and had to face the consequences."

"What did you do?" Sakura asks before she can swallow down her curiosity

Shikako says, "Some lessons are learned the hard way..."

At first, Sakura thinks that's all she will say, a dismissive sort of answer, but then Shikako continues:

"...but perhaps not all of them. Hopefully you’ll learn from my mistakes," she says with a small bitter smile, gaze going beyond Sakura.

"I foresaw danger and thought I could prevent it,” Shikako says, almost a confession. “But the more magic I had, the more danger arose, until I found myself trying to make a deal with the Shinigami."

If any of the horror Sakura feels is showing on her face, Shikako doesn't let that deter her.

"Unsurprisingly, the Shinigami is very good at making deals and somewhat overworked." Shikako's smile is wider now, more real. "I asked him for the world where all of my friends and family lived. He said I should make it myself."

"So now I'm Death's apprentice," she shrugs, almost casual about it even though the very concept is giving Sakura a headache. "Shikabane-hime, the Lady Cosmos, the Space-Time Witch, whatever," she lists, rolling her eyes, impossibly blasé about her various titles.

"It's not so bad, I guess. But I do miss my friends and family."

Finally, something Sakura can wrap her brain around! "Do you want me to tell them that, too?"

Shikako blinks, almost surprised, before she tilts her head. "Maybe? I mostly meant that, well... I know in this timeline I’m just a stranger, but it's nice to see you again, Sakura. And just in case you had any doubts: you were always destined for greatness."

A/N: If you couldn’t tell from this mess, it was supposed to be more xxxholic/CLAMP than Madoka Magica (which I haven’t actually watched) but from what little I know of the latter, I wouldn’t blame anyone for getting that sort of vibe. Don’t worry, it’s kinda a good ending. I mean, Shikako literally made a deal with multiple gods in order to make it so.

edit: I have come up with a title/tag for this

“meeting and incidents unraveled”

#jacksgreyson #anonymous #prompt response #wrting #fanfiction #could should actually fic #a softer ask box #dreaming of sunshine #naruto #xxxholic #sakura haruno #shikako nara #meeting and incidents unraveled

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alwaysyourqueen · 3 years

Text

My January Jubilation (@masseffectholidaycheer) gift for @ray-beams! Slightly late but still completed. Read it here on AO3 or here on tumblr! Happy February.

Jane Shepard woke up, a hand flopping over to the other side of the bed. No one there. She yawned, blinking her eyes a few times to clear her vision. It was weird to not be wearing glasses. Years after her genetic engineering and she still didn’t like that she could see clearly first thing in the morning.

She rolled herself out of bed, pulled on a nice robe and pajama pants combo, and wandered out into the common space of her and Samantha’s apartment. It was modest, which she had wanted for too long now. A sense of normalcy amidst the craziness her life had become.

“Shepard. Didn’t want to wake you. Rest very important during recovery period.”

Jane jerked her head to the side and saw Mordin, cradling what was likely decaffeinated tea, sitting on a couch across from Sam. “Oh. Didn’t think you were stopping by until one.”

Sam stood up and walked over to her girlfriend’s side, putting a hand on her shoulder. “Jane?”

“Yes dear?”

“It’s two thirty.”

“Ah. Thanks.” Jane gave Samantha a quick kiss on the cheek before stealing her spot on the couch. “Coffee?”

“Got a pot warming up. I’ll leave you two to catch up.” Samantha made her way to the kitchen, probably to do a menial task or two in the meantime to allow Jane and Mordin to talk. The two of them did like their private conversations.

“Sorry to keep you waiting, Mordin.” Jane settled herself into the couch, suddenly hyper-aware of the robe she was wrapped in. It felt very silly that she hadn’t gotten dressed.

“Sleeping long hours common reaction to intensive reconstruction. Completely normal. Should stop in number of days.” Mordin set his cup down on the coffee table, then stood up from his seat.

“You know you can call me Jane now, right?” Jane propped one of her elbows up on the back of the couch. “No Commander crew dynamic anymore. Just two enactors of genocide having coffee.”

“If that was meant to offend, silly way to do so. Never meant for Shepard to be impersonal. Always been formal, never impersonal.” The salarian began to pace, as he was wont to do. Frankly, Jane was surprised he’d even been sitting still to presumably talk with Sam. “Both did what we had to do. Best option with available information at the time. No fault in doing what we do best.”

“It’s hard to think about that. What if eventually I realize I was wrong?”

“I did. Can’t go back and fix what’s been done. Tried.”

Jane laughed. “If anyone could pull it off, it’d be you, Mordin.” She hard swallowed, looking towards the window on the opposite side of the room. “Does it get easier?”

“Unclear question.” Mordin stopped his pacing to stand stock still for a moment, bulbous eyes fixed on Jane. “Does what get easier?”

“Dealing with the consequences of our actions. I mean, I condemned an entire field of science to starting from scratch. Probably killed a lot of people in the process. No, I know I killed a lot of people in the process. And now I have to get up and be a person in the galaxy.”

“No.”

Jane looked at Mordin, a starstruck expression on her face.

Mordin gave a short shrug of his shoulders. “Feeling never goes away. It shouldn’t. Focus more on the future. Do better today than we did yesterday.”

“That’s awful optimistic of you. Are you sure you haven’t been replaced by an evil clone?”

“Only you warrant such extreme copying.”

Jane rolled her eyes. Sometimes she had to reflect on the fact that her life was so crazy, it was impossible to even joke about without someone ribbing back that it had actually happened. “You were so upset about everything with the Genophage, and I did that on another level.”

“Not about us. Not about you. About the people we are going to help. Not about you or me, or how we feel about it.” Mordin finally stopped moving to sit down across from Jane again. “About making a difference after we’re gone.”

“Yeah.” Jane ran her fingers through her hair, scratching at her scalp along the way. “Making it better. I hope I actually made it better instead of making it worse.”

“I think you did. The whole team does.” Mordin made it sound as such a matter of fact, such a simple thing that everyone knew. Jane was struggling when people said those things to her, but she wasn’t going to argue the point. Mordin was a much better arguer than her.

“What do you suggest we do? To do better?”

“Get up again. Do something good. Protect people.” He shrugged his shoulders. “Hard to give advice to savior of the galaxy, Shepard. Figure it out.”

“You’ve got an attitude problem, you know that, Solus?”

“Not a problem. Keeps you guessing.”

Jane laughed, got up from her seat, and stepped forward. “Can I get a hug before sending you on your way?”

“Just this once.” The salarian stood up and let Jane put her arms around him, and put his own around her too.

Jane held the hug for what was probably a little too long for a salarian perception of time. She finally released him, rolling a part of her shoulder that was digging a little too hard into his suit. Despite how squishy salarians could be, their tech was the opposite.

“Don’t be a stranger, okay?” Jane walked with Mordin towards the door.

“As long as you are wearing pants next time I visit. Fair trade.” Mordin gave her the salarian equivalent of a cocky smile, or at least that’s what she thought it was. All this time around aliens, and she still didn’t quite know how to read their facial expressions.

“See you, Mordin.” Samantha waved from behind Jane, who whirled around, taken aback by her girlfriend’s sudden appearance. “Heard the going away party, and decided to butt in.” She passed off the cup of coffee in her hands to Jane’s hands, who quickly brought the hot bean juice to her lips.

Mordin gave them both a last wave and the door closed behind him, the automatic lock visibly switching into place.

“Did you know you are the most amazing woman in the world?” Jane slumped against Sam’s side, making a raspberry as she exhaled air.

“Oh, so there’s some other world with women more amazing than me? Maybe I should’ve shipped you off there instead of coming home.” The words were spoken with an air of comedy, clearly lacking any real offense. “I’ll keep that in mind next time I’m the one on dishes. Maybe I’ll just leave out all your favorite cups to get all dirty, and gross, and,”

“Alright, alright, I get the idea. Don’t lay onto me until I’ve had my coffee.” She lifted the cup as if to demonstrate, and sipped from it again. “Okay, begin the shaming.”

“I think you’ve had enough for one day.” Sam put her arm around Jane’s shoulder. “Let’s work on that sleep schedule though, eh?”

“Over my dead body.”

“Too soon.”

“For the first time or the second?”

“Exactly.”

#mass effect fanfiction #shaynor #jane shepard #samantha traynor #mordin solus #mass effect #raybeams

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veliseraptor · 3 years

Text

2020 Fanfiction Round-Up

I do one of these every year! And have since I think 2016. Can’t break a tradition even if it’s been a clusterfuck of a time and filling this out was in some ways an exercise in remembering the ways I have failed myself as a writer this year.

But oh well!

Total Year-Long Wordcount: I’ll post the final final number tonight after I finish the writing I want to do this afternoon (and plan to do this afternoon), but it’s currently 451,803 words written this year. Guessing I’m going to land somewhere around 453,000ish. (AO3 claims a higher number than that but that’s because it is counting the entirety of fics where I posted chapters this year.

This year I wrote and posted: I wrote a fair number more than I posted (there are five fics finished but for various reasons unposted on my hard drive) but based on Tumblr I posted 78 posts in my fic tag, which, not including chapter specific updates and three sentence meme answers (but including at least two Tumblr-only longer fics), probably comes out to about 60 or so “full length” fics that saw the light of day in 2020.

Overall Thoughts

Looking back, did you write more fic than you thought you would this year, less, or about what you’d predicted?

Well, I wrote more than I did last year, which is sort of a surprise to me (all things considered) but also maybe not, because I was doing a lot less of most other things that could’ve been occupying my time, including two hours daily of commuting.

But still less than I did in 2018. Which is fine.

What’s your own favorite story of the year?

Lord, I don’t know. It depends on when you ask me. Lately I’ve been in a bit of a “I hate everything I’ve written ever” state of mind, so that makes it sort of hard to do any kind of...reasonable assessment.

I know I’m proud of With Absolute Splendor but I have all these reservations about it and I can’t reread it for the most part because I always notice new things I wish I’d done differently. I feel pretty good about efforts in a common cause but something about it still makes me cringe, which I suspect has to do with my general self-consciousness. I have a hard time feeling unreservedly proud about...anything I wrote this year, really.

I feel like the closest I get is maybe nor autumn falter which I am pretty pleased with and also which does hurt me a lot personally. Or I did end up overall pretty pleased with what came out of By Proxy.

But also the more I look at this question the more I start hating all my own work, so...guess this is kind of coming at a bad time.

Did you take any writing risks this year? What did you learn from them?

I mean, I started writing in my first non-English fandom in many years, and specifically one where I was trying to engage more with the cultural background of the setting (in a way I wasn’t with, say, Death Note, when I was writing Death Note fic). So that was a risk. And I learned that it’s very stressful and there’s so many ways to make mistakes and I am, in many ways, a coward. But also I think I’ve learned a fair amount thanks to a lot of very patient people on the internet, so...there’s that.

Otherwise...I mean, I got ambitious with a few projects this year (the Big Bang fic and With Absolute Splendor stand out), but I’m not sure how much I really tried new things.

I feel like I had to fight myself a little on writing straight up bad sex for By Proxy - I planned on it being hot, and it really wasn’t. It was mostly just miserable. Which made for a better fic, but was a new experience for me as far as ‘I thought I was going to write porn and that isn’t what I wrote.’

From my past year of writing, what was….

My most popular story of this year:

By far, With Absolute Splendor. In fact, it has now become my second most kudosed fic of all time, behind only fuckin Life in Reverse. So like. That’s a thing.

(It is still less than half as many as Life in Reverse, but for context Life in Reverse has been around for going on eight years.)

Most fun story to write:

Most fics where I feel like “I’m having so much fun writing this!” also go through a “oh god I hate this it’s terrible” phase which makes this sort of hard to assess. But I did have overall a lot of fun writing Mutual Friends despite all my frustration with the canon-wrangling I had to do to make it work in my head.

But also I feel like both Retributive Justice and Embedded were in different ways deeply iddy fics that were just fun to write. That actually goes for a lot of the Whumptober fics. That was a very self-indulgent month. Excited to do it again in February (hopefully, if I can write things in a timely manner at all).

Story with the single sexiest moment:

I feel like the beauty of your repair might be my personal favorite smut I posted this year, but I think my personal favorite that I wrote is in the big bang fic nobody will see until January.

I feel like most of the sexiest moments I’ve written this year are in the porn fics I’m going to start posting in January also. But just generally I feel like the beauty of your repair is the sexiest thing I wrote and posted.

Most “Holy crap, that’s wrong, even for you” story:

I mean, I Come With Knives is definitely up there. It’s not that wrong or anything, but it got pretty intense in some ways I wasn’t expecting. Mostly in how much blood got involved, which was actually more than I’d had it involved in a sex thing before! Kind of surprises me that I haven’t previously done more with bloodplay stuff but. Well. First time for everything!

I don’t think this was a year that really had any “wow, what the fuck, Lise” things in it. Nothing on the level of last year’s winner. I’m almost disappointed in myself.

Abattoir was definitely the story that generated the weirdest conversation and creepiest search questions, though, so it does get points for that.

Story that shifted my own perceptions of the characters:

I feel like the writing of everyone else is spring bound was a lot of...me thinking through my Jiang Cheng feelings and specifically my Jiang Cheng post-canon feelings.

the martyr, the victim was pretty formative in shaping how I think about both Lan Xichen and Lan Wangji and their relationship with each other. It was the first fic I wrote that really dug into them in any way, I think, and definitely one that informed how I thought about writing Lan Xichen later.

Hardest story to write:

I was thinking it was the one that I haven’t posted yet but I did technically finish, aka my Big Bang fic, the terrible threesome fic, the massive “I’m gonna keep everyone in the Yi City arc alive” AU that I started shortly after finishing The Untamed and finished in December. So I spent most of the year writing it.

But then I was like - no, I’m going to have to go with we live until we die even though it’s technically been ‘in progress’ for five years and really kicked into gear in 2019 and I just finished it and posted it this year, because that fic was like. The culmination of a big arc in an enormous verse dealing with a whole lot of balls in the air and trying to tie up a whole lot of threads. It was ambitious and the stakes were high and it was full of plot and action which are not two of my strengths...frankly I’m still amazed I pulled the damn thing off.

Biggest Disappointment:

I think it is better if I refrain from going too in depth on this because it would just end up as me listing a bunch of my perceived failings. But I think off the top of my head I’m frustrated by the fact that I still haven’t really managed to write a XueXiao smut fic that quite hits the spot for me, myself. I’ve written two and for various reasons I don’t really like either of them.

Biggest Surprise:

The fact that my Jiang Cheng fic took off the way it did. Legitimately did not see that coming! At all! I mean, I’m delighted by it but it wasn’t what I saw happening as far as “niche I’d find in this fandom” or “thing I’d write that people would really enjoy reading.”

Particularly with By Proxy. That fic got a lot more attention than I would’ve expected.

Most Unintentionally Telling Story:

I feel like every fic I write with Xue Yang in it tells you something about me and most of those things are things that make me, on some level, deeply self-conscious, but I try not to think about that too much.

I feel like the most telling story is maybe we all drift sometimes because I literally wrote it out of a depressive episode about a bad brain day but that wasn’t unintentional.

Favorite Opening Line(s):

1. So it turned out that if you touched the tendons of a dead person’s wrist and channeled a little bit of spiritual energy just right, it made the fingers twitch and curl like they were still alive. (Abattoir)

2. Here’s the thing: your Daozhang is glorious when he kills. (tear out all your tenderness)

3. Turned out that a sect leader’s head came off like anyone else’s. (Unnatural Selection)

4. The first hint that anything had gone awry was the letter from Lan Wangji (His Excellency Hanguang-jun, pardon me) that simply said have you heard from Wei Ying? (some good mistakes)

5. What Jiang Cheng wanted to do, more than anything, was to go home and take a nap. (everyone else is spring bound)

Favorite Line(s) from Anywhere:

I usually keep this to 10 but because I’ve been in such a :| place about my own writing I indulged myself this once.

1. Sometimes it felt like all he had done since descending the mountain was shatter his own dreams and accumulate regrets. (nor autumn falter)

2. It felt like she was holding all the components of a bomb in her hands, half assembled. If she moved the right way they would stay just that: components. But if she moved the wrong way… (til my judgment day)

3. He should have killed him. Should have been the one to strike that blow, in revenge for Jin Zixuan and their sister and everyone else dead for Wei Wuxian’s pride. Maybe then there would not be this gnawing, aching thing embedded in his chest; this itching, unfinished feeling. Maybe then he would not feel torn in two, sometimes like he should have reached out with his other hand and sometimes like he should have struck truer and sometimes both, in the same moment. (Interstitial)

4. He owed Wei Wuxian more than he could ever give back in this lifetime. Forgiving him felt like betraying his sister’s memory. Not forgiving him felt like trying to walk with a thorn in his foot. He was just - stuck, caught like a demon in a spiritual net.

Jiang Cheng thought of the way Wei Wuxian looked at Lan Wangji, with warmth and trust and love, and the aching, sick jealousy he had no right to feel returned. He felt a little like a child watching someone pick up a toy he’d abandoned and suddenly realizing that he wanted it back. (everyone else is spring bound)

5. You close your eyes and think about how he looked back in that town, Shuanghua slicing clean through a man’s neck, opening it to the spine, and think dizzily that he could open you like that and it’d be good, as long as it lasted. (tear out all your tenderness)

6. When Wangji loved, he loved with his whole being, without reserve. And now he had been placed between the rock of his convictions and the hard place of his devotion to Wei Wuxian. (the martyr, the victim)

7. He spent a week turning the idea over in his head. Studying it like a corpse he was going to dissect, poking at it, cutting it open and examining its insides. (dead reckoning)

8. When the world hurt you, that was the only thing to do, after all. Hurt it back, harder, worse. Spill rivers of blood for every drop it squeezed from you.

And when the end came, never go quietly. (the blood in your mouth)

9. I would stand with you through the end of the world, said Loki’s voice in his head, and Steve’s heart wasn’t in his chest anymore, was somewhere off on another planet where Loki was lying dead in a ruined city. (we live until we die)

10. Was it always going to be like this? Stumbling into traps, tripping over familiar skeletons, slicing himself open on the edges of old hurts. Was there really such a thing as leaving the past behind? He still felt stuck in it, unable to move, and every time he thought he might be finally dragging himself free something pulled him back. (With Absolute Splendor)

11. His chest was full of poison. His throat was full of grief. And he was still a little drunk.

Jiang Cheng went to his room, sat down on his bed, put his face in his hands, and cried until he couldn’t breathe. (By Proxy)

Top 5 Scenes from Anywhere You Would Choose to Have Illustrated:

I think the scene from nor autumn falter of Xiao Xingchen just crying his heart out over Xue Yang’s dead body would be up there.

The Jiang Cheng and Wei Wuxian hug from the end of With Absolute Splendor.

Okay, just gonna say it: Xue Yang and Jin Guangyao having sex by the table with Nie Mingjue’s headless corpse on it. So sue me.

The scene in the blood in your mouth where Song Lan has stabbed Xue Yang and Xiao Xingchen is following the line of Fuxue to the latter. I have a very clear visual of it in my head and if I could art I’d art it.

Xue Yang with the hallucinatory Xiao Xingchen from liberate spirits, liberate souls.

Fic-writing goals for 2021:

Finish Walking Far From Home.

Maybe I’ll finish some of these MCU WIPs? I’d kind of like to, on an abstract level if nothing else.

Become a more well-adjusted human being about the relationship between my productivity and my self-worth.

#fanfiction round up #confessions of a frustrated writer #you'll get my fun statistical analysis nonsense later

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eloarei · 3 years

Text

Hiatus’d WIPs: “Touch” (bnha)

I recently had a conversation with a friend/reader about how many unfinished fics I have lying around, and it made me decide to finally make a post for each one; under the assumption that I never write any of them again, I can at least link these posts at the end of the AO3 WIPs for people who are curious how the rest of the story goes. So here we have: WIP and notes for Dekumight fic series “Touch” (including unfinished next chapter) My thoughts: This was really one of my favorites for a while. There was something really fun about writing the sort of non-verbal communication they had going on, and the deep love and also awkwardness. However, the actual story of the fic doesn’t differ much from the canon plot, which makes it a little less interesting to write, and also difficult to pick up, because frankly I don’t remember shit anymore about canon. Under the cut: (8,300 words total) 3,000 words of what would be the next chapter (ending about halfway through), then a rough draft of the second half of the chapter. After that, there’s a super-rough draft/ outline of the next several chapters, followed by a bunch of notes from when I was initially planning. NOTE: Tumblr completely destroyed all formatting, so this should be full of italics, which implies thinking, but instead you’ll just have to puzzle it out. Similarly, my notes have a bunch of bolding and some strikethrough, which probably doesn’t work either. Sorry.

Takes place directly after “Retouch” (chapter 2) :

Chapter 3

It was just a few minutes later that Toshinori was hit with a spike of pleasure that he really shouldn't have been surprised by. He was finishing up some paperwork for UA though and wouldn't be getting ready for bed for a while, so instead of following through with the echo of Izuku's intense sensation, he just took a deep calming breath and willed himself to leave it alone. However, he did take a moment to send Izuku a well-timed text saying simply, | Sleep tight |. He still wasn't sure if the boy was aware of what he was doing to him, but he figured he'd just tip him off a little bit instead of asking outright. Not yet.

Izuku responded with a cute, embarrassed | ^^; you too |, and Toshinori laughed. So he hadn't expected to be called out on it, huh? Well, they could talk about it later; maybe over the weekend, if Suzuki's papers didn't scare him off. (And even then they'd probably still want to talk about at least a few things. Even if Izuku suddenly wanted nothing to do with him, even if they never saw each other again (a chilling thought), they'd still be affecting each other like this for the rest of their lives. It warranted at least a short conversation.)

Most likely, though... Most likely it would be a long conversation they'd be having, if Toshinori's impression of Inko was anything to go by. If it were just him and Izuku, who knew if they'd ever do much serious talking. It was far too tempting to just sit side by side with their hands tangled together and feel. So, it was probably good that Izuku's mother had such a strong hand in the situation-- and it was definitely good for both of them that she was such a reasonable woman. He knew she would probably bring up all the right topics (the things he still hadn't really researched; Suzuki wasn't going to be pleased with his ignorance), and ask all the right questions, and be super tactful about the whole thing, so he didn't fret about it, focusing instead on just getting through the week.

Easier said than done, he'd have told you, if you asked him at any point during those next few days, but eventually it was done, and he was standing outside the Midoriyas' apartment door with a briefcase in one hand and the other poised to knock. But before he could make a sound, the door opened, and Izuku was standing there, looking up at him with the brightest eyes.

“Hi,” he said, the simple word both enthusiastic and shy. His smile was impossibly wide, sending his freckles up into his eyes. “I, um, I could tell you were there,” he answered, before Toshinori could even ask how he'd known to open the door. Without further ado, Izuku reached out and took his hand, leading him into the apartment. They both breathed deep, relieved sighs as soon as they touched. Three days had just been too much.

Inside, Inko was doing dishes. “Oh, Toshinori, hi,” she said, looking over her shoulder. “I'll be done here in just a minute. Izuku said you have some papers for us to look at?”

“At my manager's insistence,” he explained. Guided by Izuku, he took a seat next to him at the kitchen table, their hands still joined, and set the briefcase up where his other hand could find what he needed. He pulled the stack of papers out and set them in the middle of the table.

“How's your week been?” Izuku asked quietly, as they waited for Inko to join them.

“It's been fine,” Toshinori answered, though the emotion rolling around in his chest said 'I missed you', and he was fairly sure Izuku could feel it.

The boy squeezed his hand at the feeling and replied, “Me too,” in response to the unspoken sentiment.

Drying her hands off on a dishtowel, Inko sat down across from them and gave the pair of them an appraising (but ultimately approving) look, before she slid the stack of papers over to her. “What have we got here?” she asked, apparently rhetorically, as she didn't wait for Toshinori to attempt to explain. She read through each page carefully and then passed it over to Izuku, who seemed mildly surprised but also read each one before sliding it over to Toshinori. (He skimmed them again for familiarity's sake, but he'd already read through them in detail with Suzuki a day or two before.)

Other than a 'hmm' here and there, Inko didn't make any comments until they were through the entire stack, which took about an hour. (Although she did stop to tell Toshinori to make himself at home, when she realized he might be thirsty or something.) It was a very quiet hour, and it would have been unnerving for Toshinori if he hadn't still had Izuku latched onto him, feeding him wisps of emotion as he read.

Once they'd gone through the whole stack, Inko started over from the beginning, and began to point out little details here and there and ask questions.

“I think most of it is reasonable enough,” she said. “We're not entitled to any of your income or royalties; that's fine. And we can't talk to the media about you. I'm alright with that. Izuku?”

Izuku nodded. “That's okay. I wasn't going to.”

“But this part here--” She pointed at it. “--says we're not allowed to tell anyone about the situation at all unless we have express written permission. That seems sort of... broad.”

Toshinori looked at the passage that Inko had indicated. “Uh, right. I told Suzuki I didn't think it was necessary, but he claims it's a safety precaution.”

“For you,” Inko said, and she did sound accusatory, but not overly much. “What happens if we break the contract? Suing us won't get you very much.”

“I wouldn't do that,” Toshinori tried to say, but Inko continued on.

“What if we need to tell someone and you're not around to give us permission? Like, Izuku's doctors? It just seems unreasonable. Dangerous, even. I get that you want to protect your status, but--”

Toshinori could feel Izuku begin to speak before he could hear the sound. “It's fine, mom,” he said. “It's not just for him. It's to protect us too. Remember that story a couple years ago? There was that lady who was kidnapped by villains because they thought they could use her to get to her husband?”

Inko pursed her lips, a slightly sour face. She clearly remembered the story, and how the woman had been tortured just to hurt her husband. Toshinori remembered it too; it had made him sick. It would have made anyone sick, especially anyone who was close to their soulmate.

“That's probably what Mr. Suzuki was thinking of,” Izuku added softly, and Toshinori could tell that he didn't quite believe in Suzuki's altruism (hard for him to, when he could feel Toshinori's own skepticism about the man), but that he did still believe the reasoning was fair.

A bit subdued, Inko nodded. “Well of course we won't go around telling everyone. I... just think it's a little silly to have to get it in writing like this.”

“You're right,” Toshinori said, shaking his head. “Leave that one, then. I'll get Suzuki to take it out.”

It went like that for another hour or so, Inko pointing out things she wasn't sure about and Toshinori mostly telling her to just cross them out, because honestly, Suzuki was going to be pissed, but who cared? There was no one in the world who mattered more right now than Izuku, and that necessarily made his mother pretty important too. Toshinori would do whatever it took to make them comfortable, and his manager could just deal with it.

By the time they were done, they'd tossed out about half of the papers and scratched through parts of most of the rest of them, and were left with a reasonable list of promises that read roughly like this:

The Midoriyas could not talk to the media about All Might, and they couldn't knowingly do anything that would jeopardize his career, and Izuku couldn't act in any way that would hinder All Might's ability to do his job as a hero. That was pretty much it, though the basic meaning was hidden in so many superfluous details that it had their heads spinning.

As for Toshinori, he would not infringe upon the Midoriyas' anonymity, or use his status to coerce or extort them in any way, and he would be responsible for any financial issues that resulted from their connection (including, but not limited to, doctor's bills and lawyer's fees).

Honestly though, they all knew that these were pretty moot points. If Izuku or his family broke any of these rules, there was really nothing that All Might's lawyers could do about it. And if All Might failed to uphold his end of the bargain, the Midoriyas could take him to court for it, but it would be inviting far more trouble than it was worth.

More than anything, though, they trusted each other enough for this whole paper-signing situation to be mostly just laughable. Getting the papers to Suzuki was not a high priority (well, he might have thought so, but he was a failure of a manager if he actually expected such a quick turnaround, after all these years), so Toshinori didn’t hurry off, instead offering to take the two out for lunch. “Oh, thank you, Toshinori,” Inko said sweetly, “but I’ve got some work to finish up. Why don’t you two go out and take advantage of the nice day?” At his elbow, Toshinori could feel Izuku’s slight surprise echoing against his own. Although Inko had only been supportive so far, they still couldn’t help expecting that she was going to try to keep them apart-- though maybe they were just projecting their reasonable fears about society onto the only other person who knew just yet. But whether or not she might be more strict about them seeing each other in the future, she seemed fine with it just now, and they were grateful. “Thanks,” Izuku told her with a sunny grin, while Toshinori nodded in agreement. “Want us to bring you anything?” Inko shook her head. “Just be back before it’s late! And stay safe!” They promised they’d be careful (in every possible way), and left the apartment together, walking close by but with their hands in their respective pockets-- the safest place for them, when they would have wandered if left to their own devices, gravitated naturally toward each other and the fulfilling feeling they provided. “So what did you think of the papers?” Toshinori asked, a relevant icebreaker to start conversation once they were on their way. “I hope they didn’t seem too strict.” Izuku grinned, and drifted close enough to bump their arms together. “They seemed fine,” he said, apparently unbothered by them. “Honestly, I’d sign whatever I had to. It’s already crazy that I even got to meet you. So, whatever I have to do now… I’ll do it.” That smile was an absolute slice of sunshine, and if Toshinori wasn’t warm just by their proximity, it would have done the job.

They wandered for some time, down towards the city center where they might find something for lunch (maybe something other than ramen, so they could expand the list of foods they knew they both liked), chatting a little. The topics were never anything consequential; Toshinori thought Izuku was still a little nervous around him and wasn’t sure what to say. He understood the feeling, even without a physical link, rather feeling that way himself. But Izuku also had the natural anxiousness of the young and quirkless (he remembered feeling that way), so Toshinori tried to guide the conversation in comfortable directions. Heroes were always a safe topic, and one with no end of iterations. They’d walked a few casual miles, keeping their attention slightly on their surroundings in case a good restaurant caught their eye, and were in the middle of discussing Kamui Woods when something else caught their attention. In the distance a block or so, there was a crowd gathered, their exclamations and worried murmurs rising to a concerning pitch just as an explosion shook the area. Many of the citizens shrieked and ran for cover, but plenty of them were still huddled around in a nervous fashion, like people observing either a train wreck or a predator from which prey could have no hope of escaping. Toshinori became aware of Izuku latching on to his arm more than he strictly felt it, the young man’s concern bleeding over into him and mixing with his own. He could feel Izuku’s natural empathy coming strong through the connection, something he’d only glimpsed the times before. There was something happening nearby, something that frightened and worried everyone; should he help? What could he even do? Should he stay out of the way? After all, they’d only just found each other, and to lose Toshinori now would be devastating; to be found out might be even worse! Izuku would hate himself if he ruined All Might’s career by causing a scandal, but he couldn’t just sit back if someone was in danger and, ahh, if only he had powers, if only he could do more than cling and be a burden to his soulmate and-- Oh, Toshinori thought. These were not his fears; they were Izuku’s. It was Izuku’s desire to help whoever might be in trouble, his desire and his desire and that was right, he wanted to help too. Of course he did. He was a hero, wasn’t he? There was only so worried he could be for his own safety and his reputation and Izuku shouldn’t worry either because it would be okay and I am here and it was amazing-- he really was the right one for him. The perfect soulmate, and maybe something more, but that was something he could think of later. The screams were louder now, and the worried murmurs too, and as an explosion shook the windows of a building half a block down they agreed they couldn’t turn away, not when there was a chance they could do something, anything. Even if there was no power left, it was still his duty, and he didn’t have to do this but yes he did. “You’re at your limit?” Izuku asked, glancing up at him through his fluffy bangs, concern bleeding out of him through more than just their physical connection. It couldn’t have been much more than a guess, but from his expression Toshinori could see that Izuku somehow knew it, like an intuition.

He nodded. “Essentially,” he replied. He wasn’t sure how to explain it in detail, but hoped a more nuanced understanding of it would flow through their bond. “I always have a reserve amount, but it’s… not much.” Izuku seemed to get it. “Maybe we can just… go see, if there’s something we can do.” That seemed fair; that seemed like the least they could do. Maybe there was something, some way to help. Inspired by each other, they jogged over to the scene and the crowd surrounding whatever trainwreck was keeping their attention so strongly. Toshinori froze down to his veins when they saw what was the cause of the commotion. It was a mutant; the same mutant he was sure he’d captured just the other day. Yes, he’d been distracted by Izuku’s presence, but he distinctly remembered turning the water bottle full of sludge over to the police before absconding with his new soulmate up to the rooftop. Izuku’s arm brushed Toshinori’s as he stepped closer in a subconscious bid at safety. How had the mutant escaped? Was it perhaps a different man after all? A twin, or someone with the same quirk? Had Izuku done something wrong? Distracted All Might from his task and caused the villain to escape? Was it the police’s fault? He glanced down at Izuku, who glanced up at him, and Toshinori shook his head. It’s not your fault, he said wordlessly, or Don’t worry about all that. And Izuku nodded, back on track after a momentary lapse of focus. How and why the mutant was here was of little concern. They both turned back to the scene at hand. “Okay, stand back and I’ll try to handle this,” Toshinori said, looking down at Izuku in a way he hoped was reassuring, and knowing anyway that he didn’t have to; Izuku could feel his determination, and every little ounce of worry that things might not go as planned. It was a nuance that Toshinori had learned to deal with in his life, and it was something Izuku was going to have to deal with as well. (Though given the boy’s penchant for overthinking, perhaps it wouldn’t be that much of a trial after all.) “Do you have enough energy?” Izuku asked nervously, obviously not wanting… well, all the things that could go wrong if Toshinori ran out at the wrong time. Toshinori laughed in soft self-depreciation. “Probably not,” he admitted. “But I’ll do what I can. That’s what it means to be a hero, right?” With Izuku’s arm still brushing his, he could feel the boy’s admiration, and it doubled in him and gave rise to a heroic rush he didn’t think he’d felt for years. Still, he waited for the right moment. That was another thing about being a hero; you couldn’t rush in blindly (not with his level of experience, anyway). He watched as the mutant swung his head around, like a cornered animal watching viciously for its enemies, and he could just about guess when it was going to let its guard down. Almost… he thought, his muscles tensing in anticipation. But just as he was about to spring forward, he felt a twinge of panic from Izuku’s side of the connection. It was a spike of recognition. Kacchan!

The roughest of drafts:

Izuku freaks out and runs to try to rescue him and they're all surprised when he actually manages to do some slight damage to the mutant; it's not enough to defeat him, but enough to stun him into dropping Bakugo, at which point Toshi transforms and rushes to finish him off. Tl;dr, turns out that a very tiny amount of Toshi’s power has become available to Izuku. (Make some note of the pain aspect, Toshi feeling Izuku’s pain from using OfA.)

Afterward, when Toshi is talking to reporters (and Izuku has managed to avoid at least a little of the reprimanding from canon, due to appearing to have some power) Izuku can feel the discomfort, Toshi’s power draining. Perhaps he plays the fan, comes to shake his hand as thanks for saving him and they're both a little surprised that it eases the discomfort, seems to give Toshi back a little strength. Izuku had just done it as an instinct, but in light of what had just happened with the power sharing, they're both very curious how this whole soulmate thing is going to work.

Toshi excuses himself from the crowd before too long and goes to find Izuku. He finds him being confronted by Bakugo, who knows that something is strange but doesn't know what (and is upset like in canon about Izuku trying to help him). Toshi tries to stay out of sight until Bakugo runs off, feeling that Izuku is confident enough in his ability to handle this. When they rejoin, Izuku explains who Bakugo is.

“[But enough about that.] Are you okay?”

They join hands. Toshi can feel that Izuku is fine but still he says, “It's you I'm concerned about. Do you know what you did back there?”

“That was your quirk,” he said, and Toshi nodded.

“Some of it, at least. Is your arm okay?”

Izuku stretched his arm out, wiggling his fingers. “It aches a little, but I'm okay. I'm just… I've never done anything like that before. It felt… kind of amazing.”

Toshi could tell that it was a little more than an ache, but that Izuku wasn't lying. It really wasn't hurting him much, and he was really feeling exhilarated. He remembered feeling like that when he first took the quirk himself.

Izuku’s side of the connection was curious and Toshi realized he could feel him thinking about his past. He debated with himself for a minute. Was this the right time to tell Izuku about his past? He would have to tell him some time, and there was no reason to wait. “I felt the same way the first time I used it,” he said. “When my mentor gave it to me. I was about your age.”

The feeling of surprise that Izuku emanated was not as much of a shock as he expected, more of a warm melting feeling, a soft realization. “You were ...quirkless? Someone gave you your quirk? But how?”

Toshi tells the story as they head back to the apartment, but they take a detour to sit somewhere and finish talking. (Way before this, Izuku texts his mom to tell her what happened and that they're fine and they'll be home in a while.) It's gotten dark by the time Toshi has finished telling of Nana and AfO and needing to pass OfA on, and they're sitting on a bench in a corner of a park or something.

“It was just an idea before,” Toshi says, “but now I'm pretty sure it's the right one. Would you be willing to take it? One for All?”

The surprise this time really is a shock, and it nearly knocks the breath out of him. “...Really?”

“You can tell I'm serious,” Toshi says with a smirk, and then he nods. “Yes. Really. It's the only thing that makes sense.”

He thinks of the reasons: he needs to pass it on, and Izuku wants a quirk, needs one to get into UA. And he's defenseless without one, a real danger with them together now. And he's already shown that he can handle it, at least a little.

“Should I think about it?” Izuku asks, looking unsure. He's probably thinking about all the things they talked about with his mother earlier, trying to be careful. But Toshi can tell he really wants it, and that's enough for him.

“If you want,” he says. “Take your time.” He knows that Izuku will say yes. (He's less sure if Inko will agree, but he knows that between the two of them, they can convince her.)

He can feel Izuku trembling, and it's with excitement he thinks. “Thank you,” Izuku says, almost breathlessly, and he leans forward and kisses Toshi, softly and quickly, and then looks him in the eyes for a short moment, twists his body in his direction more and leans in for another kiss. This one is a little deeper, lingering, not obscene but less than entirely chaste and Toshi can feel so so much through it, especially as he allows himself to kiss back. They don't take it far; Toshi can feel that Izuku knows there are boundaries, though Toshi is nervous about himself, unsure if he would be able to keep himself from crossing them, to stop when it was time. He's a bit anxious, but he's glad Izuku is reasonable, and he's excited and he's happy and they're melting into each other even though they've stopped kissing and it is finally Izuku who speaks up to interrupt them getting stuck in their twofold thoughts.

“I should get home. I have to tell my mom about all this. Am I… Can I tell her? About OfA?”

Toshi nods. “It's a big part of all of this. I guess she should know. And that'll give you a chance to talk it over with her. Decide if you want it.”

‘I do want it,’ he could tell Izuku was thinking, although maybe not in so many words. Izuku was trying to be patient and make smart decisions. He was doing his best to be worthy of being Toshi’s soulmate, and Toshi was overcome with affection for him. He hugged him close, and even more than the kissing, that was the most they'd ever felt, the most contact they'd ever made. It was less electric than kissing, but like an overblown, overexposed photo. They stayed there like that for a little while before they silently agreed to get up and go back.

The end of chapter 3, more or less.

Chapter four.

Izuku took a week to act like he was thinking about it, but in truth he'd decided almost immediately, and convinced his mom that it was a good idea (or that she should let him do it at least) on that first night, after Toshi had walked him home and said goodbye.

“Izuku! I saw on the news about that mutant attack! You're really alright? And Toshinori, and Katsuki?”

“We're fine mom! Toshinori saved us. But…” A pause. “With dad, have you ever… accidentally used his quirk before?”

She raised an eyebrow at him, looking a little worried. “I can feel when he's using it, but i've never breathed fire myself.”

Yeah, it wasn't anything he'd ever heard of before. Maybe it was because most people's quirks weren't that strong. Maybe it was because he was quirkless. Maybe… well there were a lot of reasons it could be. It didn't matter that much why; it had happened, and they'd both felt it.

“I used it. All Might’s power. Just a little bit of it.”

“Are you okay?”

He said he was fine, he thought, but Inko was skeptical. She remembered some times when he was younger, when he thought an injury was less serious than it was. She convinced him to go to the doctor tomorrow and he agreed, dismissively as he was so invested in telling her about Toshinori’s offer. She's a bit nervous about the idea but it doesn't take long for her to give in.

At the doctor's tomorrow (maybe only mentioned, not a scene) it turns out that Izuku did in fact fracture a bone in his arm. (Is a cast needed for that? Probably not.)

Later that afternoon, Toshinori texted him and asked if he was okay; his arm felt a little off. Izuku responds casually that it was just a fracture and he's fine, and Toshi fusses over him a little, apologizes for putting him in that situation. Izuku really is not bothered by it. Toshi doesn't ask if Izuku has decided and Izuku wonders if he's changed his mind. A week later, he says that he's decided to take OfA, if he's still offering it, and Toshi says that he'd be happy to give it to him, if he's really sure. But! There's no way Izuku is going to be able to handle it in his current state. They begin to train (though not until Izuku’s fracture heals). In the meantime, Izuku continues school, and Toshi continues work, and they see each roughly every weekend. Sometimes they'll meet out for lunch or sometimes Inko invites Toshi over for dinner.

(Cover some catch up. Mention Suzuki being annoyed about the edits to the paperwork etc)

It's a few weeks before they start to train, but of course it's much less covert than in canon. Inko knows exactly where they're going; Toshi has discussed it with them over dinners and such. He doesn't tell them that his plan is for Izuku to clean up the trash on the beach until they get there though.

The next several months are a more efficient training than canon. After Toshi is pretty sure Izuku has grown strong enough, they try the power-share again, and Izuku is able to start using the very tiny percentage of OfA, sometimes. It works if he's recently been in physical contact with Toshi, and fades after a minute or two. It's not enough to do anything very heroic, but it is a significant boost to Izuku’s natural strength, allowing him to move items several times his normal weight limit.

(They also find that Izuku can actually use a version of OfA that is more than twice as powerful as his tiny version, only if Toshi is currently in contact with him. However, Izuku hurt himself the first time they did that, so they avoid it until much later.)

They still don't have a perfect grasp on Izuku’s ability to handle it by the time they transfer it to him, but it's better than canon, and they do it earlier so he has more chance to practice. He has at least some ability to use it at half-power before the entrance exam (chapter 5). The only reason he hurts himself so badly there is because he freaked out and wasn't careful.

Training is pretty fun for them. It's more like play than in canon, with Izuku showing off, carrying Toshi around, silly stuff like that. He's moderately less concerned about being a hero, mostly because Toshi is so constantly encouraging so he doesn't worry about it. And he knows that even if he doesn't make it somehow, he's still got Toshi and nothing can take that away.

Aside from training, they still spend a good amount of time together. Events and holidays and such. Izuku meets Suzuki. Toshi invites Izuku (and probably Inko) to his place once or twice, though they still spend most of their time out or at the Midoriyas’ apartment. Inko politely requests that they not stay at Toshi’s place. (She isn't /too concerned, but she just wants them to know that she has some kind of expectations about how they'll handle their relationship. She half expects Izuku to go behind her back in some of those regards.)

Izuku has his 15th birthday not long after they start training (might have to look this one up) or thereabouts. He has mixed emotions about this, and about inviting Toshi to his ‘party’ (probably just a fancy-ish dinner with his mother (maybe dad too?) Since he doesn't have any friends). He wants Toshi there, of course, but he's somewhat embarrassed about still being only 15, and doesn't want to draw attention to it. On the other hand, he's also excited to be getting older, closer and closer to the age that it would be appropriate for he and Toshi to act however they liked. (This birthday scene goes in early middle of chapter.)

More holidays: Christmas, new years, Valentine's day. Maybe just slight mentions of those.

Chapter ends when Toshi wishes Izuku luck at the entrance exam. He kisses him and Izuku is a little shocked because Toshi is rarely if ever the one to initiate that sort of thing. He heads to the exam, excited and confident.

Chapter 5.

Toshi heads to UA (potentially along with Izuku), and goes to watch the exam with his fellow teachers. He's met them several times and they know about his injury and resting form, but only Nedzu knows that Izuku is his soul mate. Most of the others are familiar enough with him to know that he doesn't have one, and many assume that he's one of the few who will never have one.

When the exam starts though, they might be able to tell that he is on edge, excited but nervous. However, they are all focused as well. It's not until Izuku smashes the robot (and everyone is shocked) and Toshi reacts to the pain that they notice the connection between them. He's not incapacitated (like Izuku is) but he is distressed and in pain and having to deal with the commotion from the other teachers. (Choose one teacher to perhaps help him out.)

As soon as he's able, he goes to Izuku. (At some point he calls Inko to let her know what's happened, and she's worried and upset and he has to talk her down until she realizes that he's upset too.) In the infirmary, Izuku is knocked out, which Toshi already knew, could tell because the pain subsided very quickly. Chiyo looks up when he comes in, obviously connecting the dots.

“He made quite a mess of himself,” she tells him, pulling up a chair next to Izuku’s bed for him. She tells him the details of what Izuku broke. “But he'll recover.”

“Thank you,” Toshi says, reaching out to carefully run his hands over Izuku’s arm, laying his hand on the side of his face, thinking about if this was a good idea, etc.

Eventually, Izuku wakes up and they talk. A few people might come by in the meantime. Izuku is eventually clear to go home. Toshi takes him. Izuku asks if he passed, knowing that Toshi was there, and all Toshi can say is that he thought he did a good job, but he doesn't know for sure. (He later finds out that Izuku scored quite well, but refrains from telling him, letting Izuku get the letter from the school.)

He gets a phone call from Izuku after the letters have gone out, and he can feel a sense of excitement even before he picks up. Izuku is crying on the other end. “Why didn't you tell me I made it?!” But he is obviously extremely happy.

Out on patrol or something, Toshi can't stop grinning for the rest of the day. When someone asks him, he just says that he's excited for new opportunities.

Chapter 6

Izuku and Toshi both begin at UA. Izuku has already made friends with a few people from the exam, and of course he knows Bakugo. Bakugo is extra suspicious of him, confused about how he's got a quirk suddenly, and knowing that he's been acting strange the whole past year. He might even suspect that they're both related to izuku’s soul mate, considering the timing.

School is, of course, plenty for them to focus on, but izuku and Toshi are still very focused on each other as well. Toshi treats izuku much the same as in canon, inviting him for lunch and etc, “playing favorites”. But since the other teachers know they're soulmates (at least, some do?) they don't criticize him quite as much for it.

Toshi and izuku continue to progress in their relationship, lightly, balancing their personal and professional relationships. They act very casual around each other and have to be careful not to be too casual in front of the class.

Izuku makes friends, which is sort of new for him. He loves them and wants to be open with them about his situation, but he can't. He's thought about telling, but he knows he can't break the rules they set. It's harder when perhaps the rumor (true rumor? What do you call that?) goes around about how he was affected by the soul link pain when he was little. He can easily tell his friends that it's not bad anymore, but it's hard having to pretend he doesn't know who it is. (Also may have to decide about sub-pairings? Otherwise it will be very hard for any of the other students to talk about their experiences. If they had mates in the class (like most ships) they would likely find out very quickly.)

Most people won't immediately assume it's All Might, even if they spend a lot of time together.

Key point: they hone their energy sharing, as Toshi becomes a bit exhausted some days. Simply being in contact for a while (lunch or something) acts as a recharge for him. When the other staff figure this out, they're much more accepting of izuku hanging out in the staff lounge.

(Need to rewatch to see what the first few weeks are like.)

Maybe include some scenes with Inko.

Chapter 7

This is the USJ incident. Toshi gets caught up in work and is late to help at USJ, but less late than in canon because he feels/hears Izuku crying out for him. Don't have to describe most of the USJ events because it's from Toshi POV, but have to decide when he gets there and if it all goes more smoothly.

The way that Toshi and izuku act towards each other (calling by their first names, extreme familiarity and working together) is what starts to tip off some of the students, though it's not relevant at the time.

The encounter is a little easier this time, with the power-share (this is probably the first time they try it out seriously) and the desperation to save each other (and the others) echoing between them.

Any character who takes notice of their bond and quirk in canon is likely to notice the soul link instead.

After the incident, emotions are running high. This was the first time they were honestly scared of losing each other. They want to hold each other for a very long time. Perhaps they are seen by some of the students (who maybe chalk it up to generic relief over the situation, but would definitely file it away for later). Later, they still don't want to let each other go, and perhaps spend their first night together (not necessarily sexual or anything), Inko having not allowed them to do so before.

Emotional wrap-up; they're scared but calmed by each other's presence. They know they can handle the future together.

END? (of this particular story, probably) Brainstorming, notes, and ideas for further fics in the series

And the notes below: (my shorthand for the characters is IM = Izuku Midoriya, AM= All Might, IMmom = Inko (not shorthand in that case I know lol, I think I didn’t want people reading over my shoulder)) >>>"Touch" sequel

A lot of people actually expressed an interest in this, so let me jot down my ideas-- as well as their ideas.

AM and IM have met, and now keep in touch. How has this changed their lives? Well now whenever they feel a strange pain, they'll call or text each other to make sure they're okay. They're both aware of what their relationship would be, if IM was older, and so is his mom, and so is pretty much everyone else that knows. In fact, most people assume that they're 'together' anyway, and it causes some tension. They try to keep it mostly under wraps, but it's nearly impossible. IM's friends and classmates are sure to notice, and AM's manager thinks maybe they should just come out with it. For their part, IM and AM just want to enjoy each others' presence and keep their moral concerns personal. IM is of course more brave (between the two of them), while AM knows he's 'supposed' to refrain. In public, they're both very good about it.

Some time in the future, after they've really adjusted to each other, and the drama (at least from their friends and family) has died down, they take to being heroes together, as they at some point realize how much more receptive they are when they're together/touching.

Questions! :

--Does IM still get OfA? (I'm leaning towards yes? Most of the rest of the story wouldn’t make sense if he didn’t.)

--How do friends/family react? Some people are jealous? BK particularly? IMmom is as supportive as possible, but she still worries for IM. As time goes on, if IM get OfA, she worries for AM too. (What about AM's cop friend?? I dunno, haven't thought about him much.)

--How do media/people react? Manager wants to tell, because he knows people will find out and it's better to come out with it before they do. But AMIM want to stay private. Perhaps at the tournament, it is no longer possible to avoid media attention. Someone notices AM's discomfort when IM fights TS, notices IM look to the stands for AM before doing something reckless. When they find out, it's all anyone wants to talk about. AM's thin form becomes very useful for avoiding the media.

--Perhaps around then, IM is kidnapped to be used against AM?

--When things are calm, AMIM often text each other just to talk-- sometimes in the night. "I miss you" IM texts. "Is that what you were thinking of?" AM asks, aware that IM is awake and wound up, and winding him up too. This is before they've really worked out how things are supposed to go between them. IM is bold; AM is holding himself back.

-- IM goes to UA, begins to use quirk. -- AMIM work harder at managing IM’s abilities than in canon, because its effects are more obvious on them. -- AM starts at UA as a teacher; AMIM have to hide their link. IM has not told anyone. AM had to tell the staff. -- When the villains attack, AM gets there sooner, as he’s tipped off by their link. Things happen about the same. -- (Should I bother to include that part if nothing is significantly different? Leaning towards no. Maybe just touch on it.) -- At the tournament, that’s when people take notice of AMIM’s link. (IM’s friends have already begun to notice.) -- After that, it’s all anybody wants to talk about. AMIM are in the spotlight, though UA tries to protect them. -- The media begins to gossip about them, some piecing the puzzle together about their quirks. Some guess that IM is AM’s son (and has inherited his quirk). (It’s not unheard of for family to be platonic soulmates.) -- Manager makes them come out with an official statement finally, despite their reluctance. -- IM receives many invitations to intern with heroes. For safety’s sake, they turn them all down, except Torino. -- IM goes to train with Torino, covertly, while AM stays behind to deal with the PR mess. -- Things happen about as usual. Maybe only touch on this part as well? Not super relevant to the AU. -- IM thinks about AM during the fight with HK, and AM wants to get to him, knowing something is wrong, but knows he won’t make it in time. (Remember, “Touch” was 3rd person limited-omniscient. POV can be from IM, AM, and other relevant characters.) -- Would AM be allowed to test IM during the midterms? Maybe gloss over that part. Especially towards the end of Season 2, go more vaguely into the ending, to avoid making it obvious that you have no idea what happens after that. XD; Isolate the emotional core of the story (the emotional drama or problem) to solve in the final scenes, even if it avoids canon entirely. That’s preferable, in fact. Points to write, unrelated to canon occurrences: : -- AMIM want to spend a lot of time together, but they must balance their responsibilities. IMmom is pretty understanding and allows them a lot of freedom. -- Manager (needs name) is less understanding, hounds them to release a press statement. -- Most of their time together is spent in private or secluded places. Obvs, they frequent the beach for training. -- They often text and talk to each other on the phone, nightly if they haven’t seen each other. -- AM is still struggling a little bit with the fact that IM is so young, but he’s impressed by IM’s emotional maturity. -- IM is over the moon about AM, not enduring nearly the moral struggle AM is. He’s not an idiot, and he’s not oblivious, but he doesn’t think that there’s anything particularly wrong with them messing around a little. He’s considerate enough not to wind AM up when he’s busy or they’re in public, although sometimes he can’t help how he feels. (Being ‘turned on’ isn’t really strong enough of a feeling to cross the link; only acting on it is.) -- For his part, AM (at first, at least) tries not to touch himself, or at least only when he thinks IM is sleeping. Eventually they come to the conclusion that that’s not working out well-- and the most logical way to handle it, so as not to inconvenience either of them, is to go at the same time/ at set times. -- That is the most AM allows them to do (hugging/cuddling is totally fine, limited kissing is okay), and even that seems like too much to him, but he compromises with himself because he knows it would be worse if he didn’t. (It’s not as if he’s going to convince a 16-year-old to stop touching himself for 2+ years, and though his own urges are less frequent, it’s been uncomfortable trying to hold back entirely.) He doesn’t allow them to touch each other, and IM is actually pretty okay with this. Well, he respects it, at least. He’s just happy to have AM in whatever capacity he can. Some notes regarding the universe: -- laws regarding consent ages are a bit more lax, given the soulmate thing. AMIM would be more-or-less within their right to do whatever they want with each other, as long as IMmom is okay with it. And even if she weren’t, they could apply to be married, even at IM’s young age, by passing a test that proves they’re soulmates.(I don't think they'll do this. Manager would have a heart attack. ...then again, maybe he'd like the idea…) -- however, there is still certainly a stigma about age-difference relationships, particularly where one party is underage.

Story 1 plot points to mention our resolve:

-- telling IM that his mom already knew

-- AM coming to terms with IM being a fan

-- AM telling IM his real name

-- AM telling manager about IM immediately. (Might be a good point to start with.)

To time skip or not to time skip? I'm leaning towards not. New outline, after I've written a bit.

1. AM talks to manager, Suzuki, and tells him about the whole situation, almost entirely honest. They decide to keep it a secret until AM has a successor. (AM POV)

2. AMIM go on a date, where they talk about both applying to UA. IM wonders what AM is not telling him. They hold hands. AM brings up the paperwork Suzuki wants them to sign, and IM agrees. (IM POV)

3. AM sees something that convinces him to offer OFA to IM. (AM POV)

4. IM begins to train for OfA. (IM POV)

5. IM goes to UA entrance exam. (AM POV)

6. They begin at UA, and try to figure out how to act around each other, after they've had so much private time over the past months. (IM POV)

7. The villains attack UA, AMIM touch-team to beat them, and people start to really put their relationship together. (AM POV)

END S1. Ugh how did this get so long that I have to separate it by season?!

Touch2 titles:

Some related words: Touch, feel, sense, sensation, emotion, Touch, touched, touching, touches, touchstone, touch-tone, aftertouch, finishing touch, retouch, out of touch, in touch, untouched, Touched can mean: physically touched (he touched my arm), lightly mentioned (he touched upon the issue), emotionally moved (he was touched by the story), brought together metaphorically (their lives touched), affected (his life was touched by his decisions) Touch, taste, smell, see, hear

Leaning towards using other ‘touch’ words for different parts of overall story.

Touch - original story

Retouch(ed) - this story

Touch-up - maybe the next part

Finishing touch - the last story (though there might be another in between)

Untouchable - first nsfw side story, before izuku is of age, on the phone with each other, feeling the echoes of their actions.

Untouched - second nsfw side story, when izuku comes of age and they finally get together physically.

Aftertouch - epilogue (years in future, maybe, working together)

In touch - side stories taking place in the timeline of the story

Out of touch - side stories taking place before or after story, or from different character's point of view or about different characters.

Chapter quotes: Every action of our lives touches on some chord that will vibrate in eternity.

-Edwin Hubbell Chapin (Chapter 1, Retouch) The best and most beautiful things in the world cannot be seen or even touched - they must be felt with the heart.

-Helen Keller The truly creative mind in any field is no more than this: a human creature born abnormally, inhumanly sensitive. To him, a touch is a blow, a sound is a noise, a misfortune is a tragedy, a joy is an ecstasy, a friend is a lover, a lover is a god, and failure is death. Add to this cruelly delicate organism the overpowering necessity to create, create, create - so that without the creating of music or poetry or books or buildings or something of meaning, his very breath is cut off from him. He must create, must pour out creation. By some strange, unknown, inward urgency he is not really alive unless he is creating.

-Pearl Buck Aim for your star, no matter how far, you must reach high above and touch your life with love, you must never look back, but charge on! Attack! See your goal your star of desire, see it red hot, feel it burning, you must be obsessed with it to make it your true yearning, be ready my friends for when you truly believe it, you will certainly achieve it and by all of God’s universal laws you will always receive it!

-Bob Smith We do not do well except when we know where the best is and when we are assured that we have touched it and hold its power within us. (lol god this one is awfully literal)

-Joseph Joubert If you can learn from hard knocks, you can also learn from soft touches.

-Carolyn Kenmore, Mannequin: My Life as a Model When we honestly ask ourselves which person in our lives mean the most to us, we often find that it is those who, instead of giving advice, solutions, or cures, have chosen rather to share our pain and touch our wounds with a warm and tender hand. The friend who can be silent with us in a moment of despair or confusion, who can stay with us in an hour of grief and bereavement, who can tolerate not knowing, not curing, not healing and face with us the reality of our powerlessness, that is a friend who cares.

-Henri Nouwen And that’s everything I’ve got about Touch/Retouch! I might clean up that third chapter and post it some day, but *shrug*.

#elo fics #Dekumight #long post

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pionoplayer · 3 years

Text

I keep having this really dumb idea in my head of like... overly long undertale style genocide run? But in a setting specifically constructed in such a way to keep the serial escalation of it going without derailing/diluting the thematics. I dunno if it's a particularly good idea but since one of Everhood's songs put another fight concept into my head for it I decided I might as well post the original idea that came with it here to tumblr.

Steps echo down a ruined corridor, worn down by calamity and time both. At the far end, a figure slouches against a pillar, notices the newcomer, and stands up straighter to face them.

"Hey there. Didn't expect someone to make it this far.

Let alone for that someone to be you, of all people.

Guess this is the part where I give my little speech, yeah? That's usually how these things go.

There's a line I've heard said, quite a few times in fact. It goes something like…

'Do you believe that even the worst person, no matter how horrible, can change if they just try?'

I've always considered it a tacky line but in the end, I believe it. The answer was 'yes' for me after all…

But here's the thing, buddy.

After a certain point, the question stops being "can this person change" and starts being "how many people will they hurt if we give them that chance again".

Because a person can change, no matter how horrible… but only if they decide to.

And you've been given more chances than anyone could possibly earn at this point.

Some people would draw a line in the sand and dare you to cross it.

Not me. You've already crossed every line that mattered.

Some people would give you one last chance to drop your weapon and surrender.

But you already killed them all while their guards were down.

And some people are like you. Ruthless, cold, downright psychotic.

I'd say it turns out they were right but uh, you didn't really leave any of them lying around either did you?

So I'm gonna ask this question one, final time. Just for nostalgia's sake. Back when there were beautiful days outside, when there were flowers left to bloom and birds left to sing.

Are you ready to have a bad time?

Because you don't get a choice anymore, as far as you've come down your path the only thing left waiting for you is the worst time of your life.

NOW STAND STILL AND DIE LIKE THE CREATURE YOU ARE."

The newcomer - no, the challenger - steps forwards instead, sending an attack towards the figure at the end of the hall. The strike is rendered harmless.

"Yeah, I figured that would be your response. Let's get started then, shall we?"

The defender begins his own assault, attempting a pace to keep the challenger from launching their retort.

"You know, it's kinda funny. Looking at you, you don't look like the kind of person that would be responsible for everything happening."

A gap in the onslaught, another quick and precise strike, followed by the defender resuming his barrage.

"Hey now, that's not a jab at your height. I don't waste jokes on an audience like you. Just a statement of fact, ya know?"

Another opportunity, another missed shot.

"If it weren't for all the bloodstains and equipment stolen from the corpses of people better than you, I'd think you were just some poor sod looking for their way back home."

A gap, a strike. The pattern is established.

"Wherever your home was, it's probably not there anymore. A lot of homes aren't there anymore, thanks to you.

Doesn't that bother you? That wherever you started you can't go back? That everyone you might have ever cared about in whatever times and places you could've been…

Are just gone? Vanished? Obliterated so thoroughly that even we can't bring them back?

Look, kid. I don't know what your deal is. I know you by reputation alone, and even if my job is dealing with 'problems', I was really hoping I wouldn't wind up here. With you.

But every single one of them, even the psychopaths bent on breaking everything over their knee…

They still had something they wanted to see through. Something they wanted to protect, even if it was just their own sorry hides.

I look in your eyes, in your past, I see nothing. Oh, I see a house, and parents, maybe friends. But I don't see anything real. Real to you. It's like you've erased it, severed all your own ties on a conceptual level.

It's almost like you're just as gone as everything you've taken away."

Something changes. The strike lands a little closer, shaving off something small, insignificant. The constant barrage of destruction falters.

"...That fast huh? Go on, do it again. I dare you, kid."

Another strike. Another impossibly near miss.

"I didn't think you'd actually be dumb enough to do it. Guess my little ramble actually paid off yeah? Now I know exactly what you are. Approximately."

Another strike. This time the sound of it hitting the far wall seems to shake the very foundation of the world itself. And then the room fills with death.

"Let's see how you deal with phase two, buster."

The pattern resumes, just with more noise and violence.

"You know, I really don't know why I'm still talking to you. A friend of mine would tell me to stop wasting my energy…

But, you know, it calms my nerves. Pretending I'm talking to a real person.

Now, I'm sure you know the whole catastrophe, inside and out. You were right at the heart of it after all.

To get things straight though? You got lucky. We were busy, other problems were cropping up, and it didn't look like you were the threat you are until suddenly everything was collapsing.

And with what you are… do you think maybe in another branch of causality we could've maybe been coworkers? Maybe friends?

You've got the moxie to be one of us, I'll tell you what. A bit lacking on the 'morals' side of things though.

Guess it doesn't matter anymore. Even if I, if we, stop you dead in your tracks, in a way you've already won.

Can't go back from where we are now after all…

Speaking of 'not being able to go back', I'm getting a little bit tired of this endless back and forth. What do you say I… speed things up a little?"

Abruptly the pace picks up, what was already an assault leaving so little untargeted space it was frankly unreasonable that the challenger had gotten this far - and gotten this far unscathed no less - becomes an unrivaled, personally targeted cataclysm.

"...You know, even knowing what your deal is... watching you brush off one of my best tricks like it's a laser pointer is infuriating."

The challenger lashes out, a set of frantic, angry strikes that are abruptly cut short by a resumption of hostilities from the defender.

"So you know what? I'll take a turn at your game. Go ahead, hit me with your best shot before I can charge up something better. Let's see how this goes for you."

The hall is silent for the briefest of moments, before the challenger lets loose the first noise they've made throughout the entire confrontation; an infernal, blood-curdling shriek. Power ripples through the hallway, searing away pieces of it in a barrage of strikes meant to bring gods to their knees.

Everything freezes. The challenger, the collapsing hall, everything but the defender.

"Wow, you're really ready to have this be over with, aren't you? I'm sure you almost got me, try harder next time and I'm sure you'll get to see what comes after."

There's a crunch and a soft cry of pain. The challenger is forced to their knees.

"I've got a little piece of advice for you though, assuming you haven't gotten it from me already."

Another crunch, a steady pace of dripping liquid can be heard.

"Your little 'quest' doesn't end with me. I'm just the wake-up call. If you get past me somehow, things are gonna get a whole lot worse for you than you realize. You might wanna turn back now before things actually get ugly."

There's no sound besides the slow drip of blood to the floor of the ruined hall. Or something approximating blood at least.

"Now get lost."

GAME OVER

...You aren't getting rid of me that easily.

>RETRY

#undertale inspired #everhood inspired #original work #writing #monologue

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xxx-cat-xxx · 4 years

Text

all the things we never said

Summary: Five times Nat and Tony watch over each other and the one time they don't need to any longer.

Word Count: 10k

Tags: Nat & Tony’s Friendship, Hurt/Comfort, Tony Stark Has A Heart, Natasha Romanov Is Not A Robot, Blood and Injury, Sickfic, Recreational Drug Use, Angst and Banter and Humour, MCU canon compliant, Team as Family, Feelings

A/N: The tumblr version is out! Huge thanks to @whumphoarder for being the world's best beta reader and my personal punctuation fairy. And thank you to @quietlyimplode for all your continuing support.

Link to read on AO3

1. Trust Issues

It’s their third mission together, but the first one they have to tackle alone. Cap, Hawkeye and the Hulk are off defending Bulgaria from a sudden invasion of slimy goo monsters, but Nat has been planning this mission for months. She fought Fury tooth and nail to go through with the original plan until he begrudgingly agreed and sent Tony along for backup.

So now it’s her, alone, inside the Hydra base instead of a team of two, and Tony is waiting outside in the forest with the quinjet, growing more restless every minute.

“JARVIS, how long?” he asks, twirling a box of Tic Tacs between his thumb and index finger. He opens the cockpit window, sticking his head out and searching the forest for what must be the hundredth time in the last few hours.

“Agent Romanov was supposed to return to the meeting point seventeen minutes ago,” the AI replies matter-of-factly.

“Twenty and I’ll go in,” Tony decides, letting out a long breath. “I told her she shouldn’t have gone alone.”

“Sir, the whole point of an undercover mission is for your identities to stay hidden. No offense, but neither your face nor your suit would contribute to that aim.”

“Thanks, Captain Obvious,” Tony sasses back. “But I’m not gonna wait outside while our resident Scary Redheaded Assassin is getting murdered by a group of neo-nazis.”

“That is quite an honorable sentiment, sir. However,―”

The AI doesn’t get a chance to continue, because at that very moment Tony makes out a familiar black-and-red shape emerging out of the green of the forest. She’s moving quickly―though not as quickly as he would have liked her to. Even from this distance he can see that Nat’s acquired a limp at some point during the three hours she was inside the base.

“Jet!” he thinks he can hear her shout even before he can clearly make out her face.

“What?” he calls back.

“Start – the fucking – jet!”

Tony, of course, doesn’t listen. The suit is open next to him, already waiting, and he doesn’t hesitate a second before he gets inside and fires up the thrusters. There is no chance in hell anyone would mistake the red-and-gold armour for anything other than Iron Man, but something about the fact that Nat is currently being followed by at least a dozen Hydra agents tells Tony that their cover was blown long ago.

He dials up to top speed, rushes over Natasha’s head and fires a round at the agents behind her―not enough to kill, but enough to hold them off for a while. Then he swoops down, and, for once glad about the lack of comms and his inability to hear her protests, scoops Nat up under her arms and flies her directly onto the quinjet.

The landing through the half-open door is less elegant than he had hoped for. Nat ends up more or less crashing onto the ground while Tony quickly curbs the speed. When he opens the suit, the assassin is still lying there like a heap of bones, making no attempt to move—which, given her usual alertness, is frankly alarming.

“Nat? You alive over there?” he inquires.

The heap moves and her face becomes visible, paler than fresh snow against the dark red of her hair. “Get us out of here.”

“How bad are you―”

“I’m fine,” she snaps with obvious strain in her voice.

“I thought you were better at lying.”

“Stark. Start the fucking jet.” She glares at him, which is much less scary now that she’s practically lying on the ground, but still enough to make Tony turn on his heels and get into the pilot seat.

It’s a good thing he does, because the Hydra agents have apparently recovered and are less than half a mile away from the jet now, carrying heavy artillery. Tony lifts them up just in time and, resisting the urge to fly a victory lap over their heads since time is a priority now, evades the guns with an elegant loop.

Maybe not the best idea, because the plane swerves and Nat’s body hits the jet’s opposite wall with an audible thump. She doesn’t cry out, but he knows she wants to from the way she gasps sharply before cutting herself off. Tony curses himself and concentrates on pulling the quinjet up at a gentler angle. The moment they reach flight level, he puts it on autopilot and heads back to check on his teammate.

Nat has maneuvered herself into a half-sitting position, leaning against the wall, but that’s about it. There’s blood on the ground around her, and more is marking the path she slid across the floor. Her breaths are coming out in small gasps of barely concealed pain.

“That’s not looking too good, Widow,” Tony remarks while retrieving the first-aid-kit out from its storage unit in the wall.

“Neither is your face.” She delivers the prepubescent insult with an expression so straight that it’s almost comical, before weakly stretching out one arm towards him. The left is curling around her stomach, blood spilling out in between her fingers in small gushes in rhythm with each breath. “Here, take this.”

There’s a pen drive in her opened palm. Tony has to grin, and there’s a weak smile on her sweaty face too, because this means she was successful after all. He stores the pen drive in the pocket of his track pants, then crouches down and starts to remove Nat’s jacket.

“What was the problem, huh?” he asks conversationally, mostly to distract her from the pain the movement must be causing her. “Someone recognised your phenomenally inconspicuous hair colour?”

“Fury’s fucking bullshit intel,” she says hoarsely, voice tense. “Gonna have a word with him when we get back.”

“I’ll be sure to clear out before that happens,” Tony remarks. He carefully helps her lie down on the ground, using her jacket as a makeshift pillow. “But I’d pay a fortune for the video.”

Nat weakly flips him off, but Tony is suddenly too distracted trying to find the bullet hole in all the blood to continue the sass. “We need to take off your shirt,” he assesses, his voice sober now.

There’s a beat where she just looks at him before clumsily starting to peel it off. There’s a lot in that look—doubt, calculation, resignation—and in the end he’s not sure whether it’s trust that’s winning her over or the knowledge that she doesn’t have any other choice. And that hurts a little, somewhere deep inside, because he couldn’t care less about Nat’s boobs while she is bleeding out in front of him. But then again, the circumstances in which they met probably put him in a less than favourable position.

Nat is visibly having difficulty lifting her arms, so he helps her pull the shirt over the head, careful not to touch any more skin than necessary. There’s so much blood underneath the fabric that he wouldn’t be able to focus on anything else even if he’d wanted to. Tony knows first aid in theory, but he’s never had to use it on someone with a bullet wound, never really had much contact with blood apart from his own. The last time he was in a similar position, it was Yinsen taking his last breaths under Tony’s hands in a cave in Afghanistan, and no, he’s so not going there now.

“Okay,” he says, taking a deep and measured breath. “What do I do?”

With muttered instructions, Nat guides him through assessing the wound. They decide that the bullet has to stay in for now. The next friendly hospital is only half an hour out, but she’s fading fast, lost way too much blood, and putting pressure on it has priority until they arrive.

“You could have just waited a few weeks and gone in with backup, you know," he comments while ripping open a packet of gauze, mostly to keep her talking; he doesn’t honestly expect anything he says would alter her stubbornness.

“Now where's the fun in that?" She slurs the words a little around the edges, but the sass is enough to reassure him that she’ll be alright.

Nat talks Tony through applying a pressure bandage, her body shaking more and more underneath his fingers, revealing just how much willpower it’s taking her not to pass out. Sometime around the point when Tony applies the last of the bandages, Nat’s eyes slip closed and her body goes limp in his grasp. She’s pulled through—through the procedure just as the mission—and Tony feels the weirdest swell of pride well up in him at being part of her team.

Nat stays mostly unconscious when he contacts the hospital and starts the landing sequence. Tony carefully dresses her in one of Cap’s spare shirts, because you never know what kind of pervert will be filming their arrival. It makes her look a bit like a child wearing her father’s clothes.

She wakes with a gasp when the paramedics enter and lift her onto a gurney, and Tony makes sure to stay in her field of vision to give her a familiar face to look at all the while until they enter surgery.

As soon as the doors have closed behind her, Tony pulls out his phone. He’s gonna have that word with Fury himself.

Three months later, when he reads a report about Natasha being shot on a solo mission and refusing anesthesia during the surgery at the local hospital, it dawns on him that the reason she let herself give into unconsciousness this time is because somehow, somewhere, there had to be a glimpse of trust.

2. Red Wine Stains

There was a time in his life when Tony used to like galas. Or maybe like is a bit of a strong term―he used to enjoy looking at dressed-up people and being looked at, flirting a little here and there, and, most importantly, the drinks. He definitely used to like the drinks.

Today, he wishes he could have some of that glamorous feeling back, just to get his adrenaline pumping a bit. The past week held a Doom Bots attack and a sewage robot gone wild and the launch of the new Stark phone and a fight with Pepper and a Dum-E malfunction, and it’s only Thursday. The wine is cheap, the food tasteless, the people boring, and Tony is tired. Fall-asleep-under-the-car-he-is-repairing kind of tired, because yes, that has happened before, much to Pepper’s dismay.

But exhaustion is not something he admits to people, so sunglasses and make-up are his beloved companions this evening, closely followed by the group of misfits that moved into his tower not too long ago and are currently gathered around him, answering the questions of at least a dozen TV crews enclosing them in a semi-circle.

Thor, in a suit that seems to be from the 19th century and nevertheless look stylish on him, is telling a story about a gigantic wolf he once taught to play fetch, with Bruce nodding along, looking awkward as ever. Nat is wearing a stunning high-slit white gown, red curls made up in a fancy bun. She has been having her fun this evening introducing Steve to an endless number of pretty admirers, just to leave him alone in the middle of the conversation, much to his embarrassment.

“And now a question for Iron Man,” the aritificially cheerful reporter announces, turning away from Thor and towards Tony. “Mr Stark, there were rumours that you underwent a heart surgery at the end of last year. While I’m pleased to see that you’re back in action, I’m curious to know whether you’re concerned that your health issues affect the Avengers’ capability to defend us in case of another attack like the one of New York?”

Tony steps forward while the crowd of onlookers falls silent. The reporter pushes the microphone into Tony’s face, but the motion seems to slow down as it happens, the world coming to a screeching halt around him.

Breathe, he thinks. Just breathe, you got this. And then: What if they come back? What if you aren’t strong enough? What if you can’t defend anyone this time?

“Mr Stark?” the reporter asks again.

Breathe. In, out, Tony tells himself. Come on, it’s not that hard.

“I, uhm…” He licks his lips, dimly aware of the cloud of reporters around him, the journalist in question regarding him with a frown. More aware though of his shaky hands, the sweat gathering on his forehead, his speeding heartbeat. “I think…”

In, out. In out. Inoutinoutinoutin―

“I think I can answer this for him,” Natasha takes two steps towards him, reaching for the microphone, and the next thing he knows, she stumbles on her high heels and knocks her glass of cheap Burgundy all over his extremely expensive suit jacket. There’s ohhs and oh my gods coming from the crowd of reporters. Nat pretends to apologise and then all he can hear is his own ragged breathing while she is pulling him away towards a side door.

“Tony―” she starts, a hand on his arm. He takes a step back, reflexively, his back hitting the wall behind him.

“I’m f-fine,” he gasps, trying in vain to get his breathing under control, “Just a sec.”

“I know, Tony,” she says calmly, not judging, not freaking out. He knows he shouldn’t, either. And he wants to calm down, god does he want to, but he’s past that point now, his heart galloping in his chest and his breaths turning into wheezes.

“I can’t―”

Fight or flight kicks in and he stumbles away from her without caring where he is going, aware only of his racing heart and the ever-tightening grip around his chest until she pushes him through yet another door into a bathroom and Tony’s legs go weak under him. He sinks to the floor, wheezing. Hugs himself, clutching a hand to his chest.

There’s no oxygen, no fucking oxygen in this room, and Tony needs to get out, needs some fresh air, but he can’t even get up right now. He’s going to die for sure, weeks before his 43rd birthday, on the floor of a men’s bathroom with red wine soaking through his shirt, and what a headline this will be.

“You’re not dying,” Nat says, fierce and still almost annoyingly calm, and god, did he really say that out loud? Tony has just enough wherewithal left to feel a surge of embarrassment. “You’ve been through this before,” she continues. “You’re gonna be okay.”

The room is getting blurry around the edges and he knows that he really needs to breathe, but he’s got no idea how to get there. And then Nat kneels down in front of him, removes his tie and opens his shirt buttons with quick fingers, and there’s just the slightest bit more air getting into him with each wheeze.

Suddenly, his mouth is watering. Tony hunches over and Nat can just slide out of the way before he heaves up two mouthfuls of wine, coffee, and bile, coughing and choking as he does so. This is bad, he thinks dimly. He hasn’t been sick from a panic attack in a while now. He draws in a choking breath and then another and another before retching again.

He really doesn’t want Black Widow out of everyone to witness him like this, but at least Nat doesn’t say anything stupid like “just breathe” or “calm down” or try to hug him, and that’s a marginal relief. What she does is cower down next to the puddle of sick and take Tony’s hands in hers, almost gently, and then presses them rhythmically. “Focus on that,” she orders, and, left with no other option, he does.

After minutes that feel like years, it finally becomes a little easier to draw in air. Panting, Tony rests his head back against the wall, his whole body bathed in sweat. Just breathes, in and out, while the bathroom slowly comes back into focus. He holds on to Nat’s hand for another minute or so, almost afraid he’s going to lose his tentative grasp of his mind if he lets go. It takes a while until he gathers himself enough to pull away from her.

“Now you’ve got something for the paparazzi,” he says halfheartedly, trying to calm the trembling in his body.

She looks at him, not missing a beat. “Nah. Panic attacks are way less sexy than drug orgies. No coke, no headlines.”

Tony lets out a breath. “No luck for me then.”

Nat gets up and starts pulling paper towels from the dispenser to clean up the mess on the ground. Her dress, Tony realises only now, also suffered in the red wine stunt.

After a few more breaths, he makes it unsteadily to his feet to help her. She stops him midway, takes the sleeve of her suit jacket and wipes tears he didn’t notice before from his cheeks, a sober, almost kind look on her face that he’s not seen before. It confirms his suspicion that this wasn’t her first time seeing someone panic, and something makes him wonder whether she’s been on the other side as well.

“Let’s get back to the action,” he tries to sound convincing as he makes for the door, then remembers the palm-sized red wine stain on his own shirt. “Or maybe I’ll get this cleaned first.”

“Like hell you’re going anywhere right now.”

“But―”

“Nope.” With a movement faster than he can blink, she fishes his phone out of his suit jacket (purely showing off, because he knows she’s got her own communication device hidden away somewhere in that fancy long dress).

Tony makes a weak attempt to snatch the phone back, which she doesn’t even acknowledge. The screen lights up upon receiving her fingerprint and she seems almost disappointed that there’s nothing to hack into.

“Nat here,” she says into the speaker. “Meet us at the back entry.”

Tony can make out Happy grumpily giving an answer.

“Yes, the back entry. No, nobody’s hurt.” She raises an eyebrow at Tony. “No, Happy, you don’t need a gun. Meet you outside.”

They keep silent until they’re in the car. Tony is used to being the one to start conversations around Nat―around almost all the Avengers, actually―but the panic attack left him completely drained and somehow he doesn’t feel the need to pretend otherwise.

“You know,” she speaks up once they are halfway through Manhattan. “Steve had a breakdown when it was snowing last winter. Full-on flashbacks and all. Took me an hour and a bucket of tea to calm him down.”

Tony turns his head towards her, trying to keep his face neutral while she goes on. “Bruce sees a therapist once a week.” She hesitates, as if weighing whether to disclose anything else or not. “Clint and I… let’s say we’ve been there, too. We all know what it’s like.”

He swallows. “This… doesn’t make it any easier.”

“I know that. But it means you’re not alone with it. It’s not a weakness, Tony.”

“I never said it was.”

She regards him knowingly. “Do me a favour and get some sleep tonight, okay?”

Tony thinks of the laundry list of things he has to finish and of the talk he and Pepper have to have before he can ask her to stay with him when he goes to sleep, both of which―talking and sleeping―he’s been putting off for reasons. But Nat’s right―it has to happen at some point.

“Yeah, okay.” Then, after a moment, “Thanks, Nat.”

"Thanking me?" Nat raises an eyebrow. "You sure you didn’t have too much to drink?”

“Yeah, yeah, don’t get used to it,” Tony grumbles.

“You owe me a new dress and another chance to set up a date for Steve,” she states. But when she looks at him, her eyes are warm.

The next day Nat convinces JARVIS―with help of some useful computer skills she picked up over the years―to disable all alarms and let Tony sleep in. At the breakfast table, she regards the newspaper Steve left lying around after coming back from his jog. The headline talks of the Black Widow’s inability to walk in high heels, and Nat, who did a roundhouse kick on four-inch stilettos just the other week, quietly smiles to herself.

3. Matchmaker

“Hey, Big Guy.” Tony rests an arm on Bruce’s shoulder, startling the scientist out of his chair by the hospital bed. “How’s she doing?”

“She’s finally asleep, I think,” Bruce answers quietly, rubbing his red-rimmed eyes.

“Damn.” Tony shuffles closer to the bed and looks at Nat, all frail and small in between a nest of blankets. She is deathly pale, except for the red fever spots on her cheeks, and her eyes are almost vanishing in the dark rings below them. There’s an oxygen cannula under her nose, and despite theoretically knowing that it had been bad, that pneumonia is something that regularly kills people, the seriousness of the situation hits him only now. “Damn, Bruce, she looks so young.”

Too young for all of this, he doesn’t say.

“I know,” Bruce sighs. “Trust me, Tony, I know.”

“‘m not asleep,” Nat protests belatedly, blinking an eye open and slowly turning over to them. “Hi.” She raises an eyebrow at Tony.

“Hi, disease monkey.”

“Fuck you, Tony.” Her voice catches on the last word and she tries to clear her throat, but ends up coughing, and then hacking, hunched forward over herself, until Bruce helps her to a half-upright position and holds her there until the fit subsides. No one mentions the flecks of blood on her hand when she pulls it away.

Bruce hands her a tissue and frowns down at her. “You know, this wouldn't have happened if you'd taken proper care of yourself.”

“Well,” she croaks, “Next time I infiltrate a Hydra prison, I’ll make sure to take a fluffy blanket and a hot water bottle along with me.”

Tony chuckles even while Bruce throws up his hands. “Why am I doing this job again?” the scientist complains. “I should just get a LinkedIn profile and be with people who don’t actively try to get themselves killed once a week.”

“You should get a nap,” Tony interjects. “You look like you’re about to join her.”

“I’m just tired,” he retorts.

“Which is why you should sleep, Big Green. Clint will be here in a couple hours and I’ll stay with her till then.” Tony nudges Bruce aside and settles down on the plastic chair next to the bed. “I got this.”

“You got what?” Nat croaks, but then redirects her gaze at Bruce. “Really, go sleep.”

“Yeah. Okay.” Bruce fidgets with the monitors. “You should take something before I leave—your temp’s almost up to 103 again.”

Nat rolls her eyes while Tony comments, “He’s terrible, isn’t he? How come you haven’t killed him yet?” He leaves a dramatic pause. “Oh, right, immortality and so on.”

“You’re so funny, Tony,” Bruce retorts, without any heat.

He hands Nat a fever reducer and helps her sit up enough that she can swallow it with a sip of water. Then he leaves, emphasizing again to call him in case anything happens.

“He likes you, you know that?” Tony drops casually once he’s gone.

“What are you doing here again?” Nat just gives him a look that’s probably supposed to be threatening but is mostly just tired, and doesn’t reveal any surprise at Tony’s observation. Tony might be good at reading people if he concentrates on it, but Nat is a natural.

“Before you murder me with one of the knives I know you’re hiding somewhere in this bed, I’ve come bearing gifts.” Tony looks around to make sure Bruce is gone before pulling Nat’s tablet out of his leather jacket.

“Ah.” She doesn’t say thanks, but her face lights up a little. While she texts Clint and probably hacks into some country’s police reports to make sure the aftermath of her mission was handled successfully, Tony goes to get a big mug of coffee and his own toy to fiddle with.

The tablet has disappeared once he returns, undoubtedly hidden in the same place as her knives. Nat, meanwhile, is trying hard to hide the shivers now wracking her frame. A glance at the stats shows that her temp has ignored the fever reducers and hit 103, so it’s probably a good thing she put the tablet down on her own; Tony is not the person who’d like to try and convince her to rest.

“You can leave,” she tries once more. “I’m fine on my own, and Bruce must be asleep by now.”

Tony really wishes he could read her, just to know whether she actually believes he would go if she just asked him enough.

“I would,” he says lightly. “Buuut, Pep kicked me out of the lab and this is the best pretense to keep upgrading my new gauntlet watch design.” He nods down to his own tablet he just produced.

It’s not true, strictly speaking; before coming here he’d been immersed deeply in SHIELD’s classified video feeds, observing Clint conduct the evacuation of the prison Nat managed to open for them the previous night. But that’s nothing she needs to know for now.

Nat doesn’t seem entirely convinced, but gives up arguing. She flaps her hand tiredly. “Knock yourself out.”

A few minutes of silence and she’s coughing again, her whole body shaking under the strain of it. This time, she hacks up strings of red-tinged mucus into a small basin that was waiting on her bedside table. Tony isn’t one to comfort sick people and Nat isn’t one to accept comfort from anyone but a select few, so instead of putting a hand on her back and telling her she’ll be alright, he goes to grab another pillow that she can put behind her back to prop her up.

“Water?” she asks when she can catch her breath again.

Tony hands her a glass, then takes the basin with a barely concealed look of disgust and disposes of it in the sink in the adjacent room. “Try and catch some shuteye?” he suggests when he returns.

Nat just shakes her head and clenches her teeth when another round of chills passes through her body.

He recognises the look on her face. Bone-deep exhaustion, but still fighting against sleep, most likely because of the fever dreams. Been there, done that. It doesn’t take a genius to figure out that the Hydra goons wouldn’t touch Nat in the almost two weeks she spent in the prison until she gave the rest of the team a go for the mission.

She’ll eventually have to talk to someone about whatever was done to her, but Tony isn’t that person. Neither of them is good with talking, not the serious type, anyway. She maybe―hopefully―has Barton for that, and Tony… has his bots. Well, and sometimes, when he’s drunk and tired or drunk from tiredness, he might have confessed a thought or two to Pepper. Most of it she figured out by herself.

He shakes himself out of his thoughts. “So what are we gonna do then?” he asks.

“You’re the genius. Figure it out.”

She’s definitely too weak for video games and Tony’s not going to read to her, which leaves the TV. They’re in the tower’s medbay, so of course there’s plenty of streaming services to choose from, which only leaves what to choose. He knows that Nat hates cheap romances and likes Tarantino, but maybe a bloodbath is not the best after what she’s just been through. They both enjoy intelligent movies, but he probably shouldn’t do anything too taxing with her fever through the roof.

“JARVIS, play Sherlock. The BBC series.”

The corners of her mouth lift a little and he knows it was the right decision.

If it had been Pepper or Bruce or even Clint, Tony wouldn’t have hesitated to crawl into the bed next to them. He craves touch when he’s ill, even if he doesn’t admit it, but he’s learned long ago that Nat’s different. So he just settles in the plastic chair next to the bed, makes sure the corners of the room are well lit, and increases the temperature enough for her shivers to finally ease down.

She fights it, but finally falls asleep half an hour into the first episode, snoring ever so slightly through the congestion in her chest. Tony knows that not everyone’s nightmares are as visible on their faces as his own, but he thinks that despite the exhaustion and sickness, she looks a little bit more relaxed than before.

After another ten minutes, Nat slides down the pillows and her nasal cannula slips out of place a little, so Tony bends over her to put it back. Her eyes snap open the moment he touches her face, alert and wary despite being bright from fever.

“Easy tiger, just putting this back where it belongs.”

She nods minutely and her eyes slip back closed, her ragged breathing still a bit faster than before. He thinks she’s maybe fallen back asleep, but then she blinks again and mumbles something indiscernible.

“Huh?” Tony asks.

She doesn’t open her eyes when she mumbles, “I’m gonna die anyway.”

Tony swallows. “Come on, don’t be so dramatic.”

“Not...now. But the thing with Bruce...this isn’t going to work. Either I’m gonna die or I’m gonna disappoint him. Don’t even know what’s worse.”

The thing is, Tony knows how it feels to have someone who is too good for you love you nevertheless. And he wishes he could tell her that she’s wrong without feeling like he’s lying.

By the time he’s finally found his reply, she is already asleep again.

“But you deserve to be happy,” he whispers into the air anyway.

Three hours later, Tony will be interrupted in designing his watch gauntlet by a very disheveled looking Bruce coming to check on Nat. Tony will follow him outside when he searches for his stethoscope, and, with a smirk on his face and a bittersweet feeling in his stomach, will tell him, “She likes you, you know? You should ask her out some time.”

4. Stoners

Nat extricates herself from the blankets with an agility acquired through years of experience in sneaking out of crowded dorm rooms without waking anyone. Bruce is asleep on the couch in Lila’s bedroom, curled a little into himself, looking rumpled and exhausted after today’s hulk-out. He passed out the moment his head touched the pillow, and Nat is honestly surprised he even made it through dinner.

But there is no sleep for her tonight. Closing her eyes means going back to the places that the witch summoned up in her mind, and that’s something she really, really doesn’t want to do.

Nat tiptoes down the wooden staircase, avoiding the legos littering her path and the creaky third step from the top. Clint would be her go-to person, if any, on nights when she feels like this. But Laura just got him back and it would be unfair to steal him away for something nobody can fix anyway.

She commandeers the heavy booze in the highest cupboard behind the digital kitchen scale Laura never uses. She is in the process of filling a glass when, through the screen door, she sees the light coming from the garden.

Nat finds Tony in the shed where he’s actually repairing the goddamn tractor. She isn’t particularly quiet while entering, but Tony still flinches when she taps him on the shoulder, raising the wrench in a gesture of defense. There’s something dark on his face, a feeling exactly matching hers. Nat hasn’t asked whether the witch has shown him something, too, but she thinks she can read the answer in his eyes.

“Couldn’t sleep?” he asks, a little more casually after lowering the wrench, but his breathing is still too quick.

“You’re one to talk.”

He snorts. “Cap’s snoring like a steam engine. No wonder he doesn’t have a girlfriend.” Nat grins, but she knows of course that’s not the real reason.

She’s never told him, but once or twice she’s witnessed Tony waking from his nightmares on the couch in the common room or in the jet after a mission, whimpering, almost crying, barely able to catch his breath. His reason to not fall asleep in a room he shares with his teammate is the same as hers.

She takes another sip from her Whiskey and then refills the glass before handing it to him. He downs it in one smooth motion and sets it on the dirty ground nearby, gesturing at her to refill before turning back to the tractor.

“Can you fix it?” she asks, genuinely curious. The tractor has been in the garage for as long as she can remember, never working, so still that it's almost become part of the building itself.

“I can fix anything.” It’s his go-to reply, and it’s a lie, but tonight she wishes it was the truth.

Nat settles on a rusty paint can nearby while watching him work, taking sips from the bottle intermittently. His hands are moving over the vehicle like a doctor’s over a patient, both professional and intimate. There’s motor oil on his bare arms and dust coating his forehead and as much as she knows Tony loves his good looks and classy suits, now he doesn’t seem to register the dirt at all. There’s something cathartic about the way he completely immerses himself in the task.

Nat does that sometimes when she has a bad night, or the few times Clint was laid up in medical with no visitors allowed. Goes to Tony’s lab and watches him fix things, build things, neither of them talking as is their way. Sometimes she finds herself waking up hours later on the lab bench with a stiff neck and a blanket over her shoulders to Tony proudly showcasing whatever he has finished.

“Morning, Sleeping Beauty,” he’d say and present her with a new set of Widow’s Bites or a more explosive arrow or a thicker uniform for Clint to keep him safe next time.

He doesn’t look as satisfied now when the tractor finally starts tucking, and she suspects he wished for it to take longer, for more distraction in a night where the dark thoughts hang between them like thick clouds.

“So, should we take this thing and drive it up to Clint’s window right now?” he asks while turning on the tap in the corner of the barn and washing his hands and face with cold water.

“Sounds tempting,” Nat admits. “But I got a better idea. I know where Clint keeps the pot.”

“That, Miss Romanov”―Tony spins around and points at her with a screwdriver―“is the best idea I’ve heard in days.”

They smoke on the old canopy swing on the porch, and Nat would like to say that it makes her feel better, but sometimes sadness is just a part of you that doesn’t go away. They share the silence like they share the joint, each contemplating their own ghosts.

Nat’s thoughts circle back to the Red Room again and again. And she wonders: Why does it still hurt, after such a long time? Maybe because it illuminates what went wrong, where it went wrong, and because it makes all the other possibilities so clear. The alternatives she never got to live. What it would have been like to have a happy childhood. Parents who cared. No blood on her palms. How it would feel to live without the crushing weight of debt and death on her shoulders.

The funny thing is that Tony might be the one who understands the feeling best. Clint knows her, knows more of her story than anyone, but he also knows―or at least, thinks he knows―where she is wrongly blaming herself, where her mistakes are not her fault anymore. For him it’s a battle she fought against the powers who wanted to make her someone else, someone horrible, and eventually she won. But on nights like this one, Nat doesn’t feel like a winner.

And Tony, below his cocky arrogance and narcissism, still carries the guilt from his previous life around with him. They don’t talk, but as the bottle and the smoke circle back and forth between them, she gets the feeling that he has an idea of what’s going on in her head.

The night air grows colder around them and at some point Tony takes off the rough button-down he’d borrowed from Clint and wraps it around her shoulders, and tonight, just tonight, she lets him. Allows him this single gesture of chivalry because he does it out of kindness, and kindness is not something found in the memories that lurk beneath the surface, and because she knows it will make him feel like he did something right.

When the smoke has turned to ash and the bottle is empty, Tony slides down a bit and leans his head on Natasha’s shoulder. If he’d done this when they first met, after her cover was blown, she would have punched him. Now, it feels almost good. His head grows heavy against her skin after a while and his breaths even out, the drugs and the many days without sleep finally catching up with him.

Dawn breaks and brings with it an aura of finality, of something big drawing to its close. Nat has lived through so many endings and beginnings that it doesn’t scare her anymore. But she’s still human enough to feel sad.

She thinks of a little red-headed girl in a huge hall with glass mirrors, turning and twisting under the ever-critical gaze of people who should have never been her replacement parents. Thinks of her, years later, taking lives without second thoughts. So many lives along the way.

And if there’s a tear or two running down her cheek and dripping into the collar of Clint’s shirt that night, nobody will ever know.

An hour later, when Tony has woken up in her lap and squinted at her and asked, “So, what do we do about the murder bot?” and Nat has mustered all her strength to store the memories away for the time being and fire up her brain cells, Laura will step out to hang clothes on the line in the yard. She will find them like this, frozen-through, exhausted, and more than slightly hungover, but with a battle plan.

4.5. Blueberry Muffin (the time they didn’t)

Natasha is not good with kids—never has been—so she is not surprised when Tony looks a bit wary as he hands his sleeping daughter over to her. She is even less surprised when the baby wakes up, regards Nat through her dark, thick eyelashes, and immediately starts to cry.

“Here. Give her here,” Tony says, and Nat is happy enough to comply. Morgan’s sobs turn into hitching breaths and she brings her tiny fingers to her face, making discontented sounds at the back of her throat.

Tony shushes her, almost automatically, and Nat feels a strange mixture of affection and sadness bloom in her chest. He looks at Morgan with a warmth in his eyes she recognises from the first time they met. It’s the same way he’s looked at Pepper for as long as Nat’s known him. Nat knows what it means: he’d do anything for the tiny person in his arms. It’s not something she’s ever felt for anyone, and certainly nothing anyone has ever felt for her.

“So.” He clears his throat. “How’s life at the compound? More interesting than changing diapers, I suppose?”

Empty and lonely, she doesn’t say. “It’s a lot of work.”

He scoffs. “You and Captain Righteous against the rest of the world?”

“Steve’s staying in the city,” she replies briskly. She knows Tony is just trying to provoke her, since Rhodey is surely keeping him updated about everything there is to know about the remnants of the team. “He’s running counselling groups, actually. I don’t see him that often.”

“Therapy with Captain America.” Tony snorts, bitterly. “Lesson One: Be honest with your friends. Lesson Two: Choose your side wisely.”

In a life before Thanos, Nat might have started an argument upon this sideblow, but losing half the world’s population put things into perspective. She’s simply too tired to react.

Tony seems to realise that too, because he gives her a defiant glance and loses steam. Morgan makes a fussy noise and he softly runs his fingers over her head until she quiets again, burying her forehead in his t-shirt. It’s some kind of nerdy shirt with triangles and geometry equations on it, and the baby is drooling onto the Pythagorean theorem.

The silence grows from uncomfortable to oppressive while Nat tries to think up what else to say about a kid that only sleeps and eats and cries.

“So, have you enrolled her in MIT yet?” she finally asks.

Tony musters a laugh that’s probably mostly meant to humour her. “Thought we might potty train her first.”

Nat smirks.

Pepper enters the room, saving them. “Have some blueberry muffins.” She sets a plate on the table in front of her. She is as neat and pretty as ever, even with an infant to take care of, making Nat acutely aware of her own unwashed hair, the worn-out leggings she didn’t bother to change before coming here, and the deep circles below her eyes.

A phone rings somewhere in the other room and Pepper is on her feet again before even properly sitting down, but not before adding, “Tony made them.”

Nat stops dead in the middle of reaching for the muffin. Then she slowly turns towards the man in question. “You bake now,” she states, and it almost sounds like an accusation.

And here’s the thing: Nat and Tony used to be founding members of the ‘Why Do I Even Own a Kitchen’ clubt. Nat is good at cooking because she had to learn it for undercover missions (nothing like chocolate mousse and a low-cut dress to seduce a target), but she’s never, ever done it for herself. Or for the team, or for anyone who doesn’t require her to. Tony considered it superfluous since he had enough money for takeout at any time of the day, which he never ceased to mention when asked. Their hate for this particular activity is one thing they had in common, along with flexible moral standards and their love for fast cars.

“I dabble.” Tony shrugs lightly. “It helps, you know, to distract yourself. You would be surprised how cathartic it can be sometimes to watch an apple pie turn brown in the oven.” There’s a dark shadow on his face that makes her realise just how bad these sometimes get.

Guilt—oh yeah, here’s another thing they both share.

She takes the muffin and bites into it. It tastes horrible, which makes the whole situation only slightly more bearable. She understands now that when Tony pushed the arc reactor into Steve’s hands the day he returned from space, it wasn’t just Iron Man he said goodbye to. He renounced a whole way of life, and with it, all those who were a part of it. The one he leads now makes space for superheroes only in crayon drawings and bedtime stories.

Nat glances around in search of a new topic to start in on, but all she sees are baby photos, throw blankets, and handmade toys—all in soft, matching colours. Wooden walls and bamboo boxes, the opposite of the cutting edge interior design that used to be Tony’s preferred choice for the tower and compound. The lakehouse reminds Nat of the Barton farm, of Laura’s attention to make the smallest details homely.

Suddenly, the domesticity of it all feels suffocating.

“I―” she breathes out. “I need to go.” She sets down the muffin and takes a last look at the baby in Tony’s arms before getting to her feet in a rush. His halfhearted protests are lost in the sound of her heartbeat drumming in her ears. She passes Pepper in the hallway, who regards her with confusion and a bit of hurt. Nat’s throat is too tight to talk, but she sends a mental apology her way because none of the bad things that keep happening in her life have ever been the fault of Pepper Potts.

Tony catches her when she is just about to close the car door. There’s honest surprise on his face when he glimpses the tears on her cheek. She wipes them away, angrily, silently dares him to say anything.

“Look, this is the best possible way for me to deal with everything,” he explains, and his face looks almost like he’s in pain. “To get over what happened. Maybe you should try that some day.”

And here’s the final difference, Nat thinks as she closes the door and starts the engine. The thing he has to get over with was what made her life worthwhile.

“I’m happy for you, Tony,” she says honestly, and drives away.

10 years later, Morgan will scroll through old news footage in her holographic projection on the ceiling and find a photo of Nat and Tony, dressed up for one of the official Avengers events, sharing a laugh over something that’s lost to history. She’ll show it to Pepper and will listen disbelievingly to a story, told with wet eyes, about an assassin masquerading as a PA, who eventually became a friend masquerading as a teammate.

5. Time Travel

None of them sleep the night before the time heist, but at some point, sharing the anxiety makes things worse instead of better. They break up the group, pretending to go to bed. Nat hasn’t been in her own room since everyone moved back in; she’s been sleeping in Clint’s quarters or occasionally on the couch in the common room when the planning and plotting went on late into the night.

Years of going rogue have left their trace on Clint, and despite having lost none of the familiarity—that wordless understanding that has been between them forever—there are more and more times now when she senses his need to be alone. Tonight is one of them. So, instead of trying to sleep, she wanders aimlessly through the compound until she finds Tony sitting in the dimly-lit common room, staring out of the window in a rare moment of stillness. The helmet of his Iron Man suit is lying next to him on the table, blinking silently.

“Don’t turn the lights up,” he says hoarsely when she enters. Even without that warning, she would have recognised the crease in between his brows and the gesture with which he is pressing two fingers to his temple. Bad headache. Maybe even a migraine.

She doesn’t say anything, just steps near the chair and gives his shoulder a squeeze. They stay silent for a while until he shifts stiffly and turns toward her.

“What would you do?” He looks up, really looks at her. “What would you do if this was potentially the last night of your life?”

Something in her heart clenches, although she can’t pretend that she wasn’t thinking the same. She settles on the arm of his chair before replying. “I’d spend it with my family.”

Tony looks at her wistfully. “I talked to Morgan earlier,” he says in a neutral voice. “Told her a bit about you all. She wanted to know every Avenger’s favourite ice cream flavour.” He shakes his head in disbelief, then winces at the pain it must be causing. “You know, before her, I’d forgotten how good humans can be. Literally innocent, before the world takes all that away.”

Nat huffs. “I don’t believe in innocence.”

“Well, she did try to trick me into bringing her back a ninja star.” Tony smirks.

Nat grins. “Now that sounds more like she’s related to you.”

“So…” he sighs. “In the improbable case that this goes down well and we don’t end up with Jack the Ripper or in the middle ages, I wouldn’t mind coming up here more often. And you should meet Morgan again―I mean it. Never too early for female role models.”

He squints up at her in the challenging way that is meant to hide his insecurity, and she knows what he is really asking for.

And Nat doesn’t say ‘You really think so?’, doesn’t admit to her surprise or the warm feeling welling up in her chest. But she preserves it, somewhere in her heart.

“Sure,” she agrees instead. “But I can’t guarantee that I won’t give her a ninja star or two.”

“I think I can deal with that.” Tony rubs his hand over his eyes in a tired gesture. “So, tomorrow’s the big day. I’m gonna try and catch some shut-eye.” He gets upright, all colour draining from his face like it just flowed down into his feet. Nat’s hand shoots out to steady him, but he’s already caught himself on the armchair. “Or maybe I’ll go and puke first.”

She frowns, trying to judge whether he’s serious or not―it’s a 50-50 chance with almost anything he says―but then he gulps heavily and starts walking towards the toilet, supporting himself against the wall.

Nat sighs as she gets to her feet, and, of course, follows him.

He flinches against the bright bathroom lights and then opens the cabinet, squinting at the labels of the different medications lined up there until Nat takes pity in him and picks the right one. They've been there before, spent a whole night in this very bathroom once when one of Tony’s migraines hit so hard he didn’t want to move for hours. There's a reason Nat always kept up his stock of Imitrex—same with Clint’s Neosporin, and Steve's Zantac.

(Maybe she never really stopped hoping they’d come back.)

Nat shakes a pill out onto her palm and hands it to him along with a glass of water. He swallows and then lowers himself down next to the toilet, face in his hands, breathing carefully through his nose to keep himself from being sick.

When the immediate danger seems to have passed, Tony leans his head back against the wall, closing his eyes. Nat can’t stop thinking how much he has aged, all the lines in his face turned into valleys and the gray and black in his hair balancing each other out. He’s got 15 years on her, but Nat was never as aware of the age difference as she is today.

He looks old and tired, but also... Nat would have never thought that soft would be a word she'd one day use to describe Tony Stark, but, looking at him in worn-out jeans and a wrinkled hoodie with a few sprinkles of glitter on them (undoubtedly courtesy to Morgan), that's the only word coming to her mind right now. It’s a different kind of softness than what he displayed during her one and only visit to the lakehouse. It doesn’t feel like a desperate escape strategy now, more like something he has grown to be without being aware of it himself.

Nat gets quietly to her feet, wets a washcloth and drapes it over his eyes, blocking out the lights. He grunts gratefully. She hesitates for a second, but then reaches down and starts kneading the tense muscles between his shoulders and neck. Tony makes a low sound in his throat somewhere between pain and pleasure. But he lets her be, and she feels a smile spread on her face.

“I forgot how good that feels,” he sighs when she’s done, squinting up at her. “Pepper never really gets the pressure right.” He swallows. “I missed this,” he adds, and she knows he doesn’t just mean her massage skills.

“Me too,” she quietly admits what she’s been thinking for days.

“I’ll just”―he weakly waves his hand―“enjoy this bathroom for a bit longer. Feel free to leave.”

“Nah, I’m good here,” Nat assures. She settles down next to him with her legs crossed, not too close, not too far. “Remember that one time we all got food poisoning from that burger joint Steve insisted was the best in Brooklyn? And Bruce was the only one who didn’t eat them, and then he just ran between different bathrooms the whole night?”

“Hell, don’t remind me.” Tony groans. “Clint puked on my Prada pajamas. Had to incinerate them.”

“Your own fault for buying branded nightwear,” she retorts.

They keep sitting and talking in low voices, and Nat doesn’t feel the desire to move, doesn’t feel the urge to let this night pass. It’s stolen time, all of it, a few days of glimpses into the life they had and that they always knew would never last. They all are aware that it’s going to end tomorrow, in one way or another. But just for now, she allows herself the illusion that it could last forever.

Less than 12 hours later, Natasha has turned into a martyr, and Tony finally understands that she did get to spend her last day with her family after all.

+1. The Passage

Waking up without pain anywhere in his body is a feeling so unfamiliar to Tony that it immediately puts him on edge. His eyes snap open, his heart beating hard and fast in his throat, and there’s something important that’s slipping his mind, something vital, and he–

He looks around himself, and he’s in his Malibu mansion. The one that Killian Aldrich bombed to the ground almost ten years ago.

It doesn’t make sense.

There’s a boxing ring set up in the middle of the room, and on it, sitting cross-legged, her long braid in red and gold hanging over her shoulder, is a familiar figure.

It can’t be.

“Natasha?” Tony asks, and she looks up at him.

And then Tony remembers.

By the time he gets his wits back enough to come up with a joke, Nat has slipped out of the ring between the ropes and is holding him in her arms. She’s young as ever, but something in her eyes makes Tony feel like she’s aged years since the last time he’s seen her.

“So this is Hell, huh? Less gargoyles than I imagined,” he quips. “And I was hoping for a better view of the Lake of Fire.”

“Oh, we’re not in Hell,” she replies calmly, pulling back. “At least not yet.”

“Where –” Tony breathes, “Where are we then?”

“It’s like a passage,” she replies. “Neither here, nor there.”

“Okay. Fine. Great.” He runs his fingers through his hair, trying to get his speeding breaths under control. “Run me through the whole thing.”

“After I jumped from the cliff at Vormir, I came to an agreement with Red Skull,” she explains. “He’s...he’s like a guard to whatever comes after. He let me wait here until… well, until someone came to let me know.”

“Let you know?” Tony echos.

“If it was worth it.” She looks up at him, for the first time seeming as scared as Tony feels. “Was it, Tony?”

“Yes.” He nods, trying to pull himself together. He thinks of Peter and his heart jumps in triumph. “Yes, it worked, Nat. We got them back. All of them.”

“But something went wrong, didn’t it?”

He sighs. “Something always goes wrong. ” He walks her through what happened after the time heist, replaying the memories and almost unable to believe them himself. “I just― I snapped. And Pep-Pepper. Rhodey. They all were there, and―”

“Breathe, Tony.” Looking at him with both sadness and pride, she stretches out her hand to wipe something from his cheek, and Tony realises then that he is crying.

“I,” he mumbles, his breath hitching. “I need to sit.”

She leads him to the boxing mat and sits him down. Then it hits Tony, really hits him what this all means.

Because he will never teach Morgan how to fly the suit he secretly designed to give her on her eighth birthday. He will never ruin Pepper’s cooking again. He will never watch over Peter when he goes patrolling, will never snatch away Rhodey’s ice cream, will never share a late-night highway drive with Happy again. It’s gone, all of it. He’s gone.

He’s crying like a child, unable to stop himself, and Nat hugs him without hesitation, holds him close. “S-Sorry,” he manages between sobs. She shushes him and strokes his back.

“It’s alright. I’ve been there too,” she whispers.

“There are so many things I wanted to do,” he chokes out after a while. “S-So many things I didn’t get to share with them.”

“I know, Tony.” She hesitates. “But they know too. Tony, you saved them. You saved them all.”

And he thinks back to Yinsen, to Don’t waste your life, Stark. To everyone he lost, everyone he outlived, everyone he killed. And he thinks, perhaps I didn’t do so bad after all.

Nat must have been having similar thoughts, because, in a quiet voice, she says, “Maybe I finally cleared my ledger.”

“Nat, what are you talking about?” he sniffs, wipes his face, and then takes her fingers into his hands, holds onto her tightly, sincerely, “None of this would have been possible if you hadn’t gotten the soul stone. We owe you. The whole universe owes you.”

And here’s the final thing they share; they have both eventually settled their debts.

The waves are hitting at the shore outside in an endless rhythm of clapping and splashing. It’s a long time until either of them speaks again.

“So,” Tony asks eventually, and the tears have dried on his cheeks, leaving only salt behind, “you chose the setting?”

She offers the tiniest of smiles. “I thought you might appreciate the touch.”

He knows that they are both thinking the same. Who would have thought, the first time they met each other, on a day when Tony was drinking chlorophyll and Nat pinned Happy onto the mat, that three-and-a-half potential apocalypses later they would end up here again?

“We can’t stay,” he says. It’s not a question.

“No,” she confirms, nodding towards the opposite wall.

There is a door at the end of the room, heavy and wooden and ancient, that doesn’t belong with the mansion―neither in Tony’s memory nor from the looks of it.

“What’s behind it?” he asks, although he already knows the answer.

“Whatever comes next.”

“Maybe it’s nothing,” he says.

Nat swallows. “Would that even be so bad?”

He turns towards her. She looks ready, at peace, but also sad. And besides knowing it’s worth it, besides knowing that they both wouldn’t hesitate a moment to make that very same choice over and over again, he wishes that they’d had more time.

They get to their feet and walk to the other end of the room. The gate seems to grow taller as they approach it until it takes up almost all of Tony’s vision. Next to him, Nat stretches out her hand and lets her fingers glide over the carvings in the wood that form patterns of leaves of a tree he doesn’t know the name of. He follows suit. The wood feels soft and warm under his touch. Alive.

“Are you scared?” she asks.

He shakes his head. “Not anymore.” And it’s true. Tony has been afraid for so many years of his life—ever since the sky above New York was torn apart. And now, he seems to be feeling everything all at once: grief, gratitude, and acceptance, wonder, loss, and love. But the fear is gone.

“Let’s go?” Nat squeezes his fingers and then lets go of his hand. And he knows, this is a step they must take on their own.

He breathes in deeply. Takes a last look around. The sea, the house, the light reflecting in the red of Natasha’s hair. The calmness in her wide green eyes. He reaches for the handle of the door. “Okay.”

And they step through.

_______________

all my fics

#the tumblr version is out #my fic #nat & tony #5+1 #give it a try?

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an-avid-reader · 4 years

Photo

The Hate U Give - Angie Thomas

my rating: 5/5 stars

On the night of a party gone wrong in Garden Heights, or “the hood”, Starr and her childhood best friend, Khalil, drive away only to be stopped by a white police officer. Khalil, unarmed, gets shot right in front of Starr’s eyes. Alas, Starr’s worlds—Garden Heights and Williamson, a predominantly white prep school—collide as word of Khalil’s death spreads and she is the only witness. Will Starr be able to bring justice to Khalil via riot and protests, or will he be remembered as a drug dealer and a thug?

"Funny how it works with white kids though. It's dope to be black until it's hard to be black"

Link to Goodreads || Spoiler-free review

A few things to check out:

Dear White People (Netflix)

When They See Us (Netflix)

Why I’m No Longer Talking to White People About Race (Book)

A list of places to donate to / one YT video if you’re unable to donate

Here’s a post that is much more comprehensive

let me know if any of the links don’t work, I will update them :)

There’s a reason why this book has quite a few awards on the front—this book covers what some may consider a “taboo” topic aka racism, but it’s an issue. I’m writing this review slightly earlier than before I’m posting it, but right now the current news is about George Floyd’s death, which is arguably more brutal than what happened in this book, but the fact that some police officers still think race has something to do with one’s intentions is outrageous and disgusting. Even in Canada, there have been instances of racism across history (spoiler: Canada isn’t a ‘saint nation’, even though the population is very diverse).

For these reasons, I think this book, while it is triggering, I think it should be fit into the curriculum for students to read so that they may be educated on racism, and how it can literally kill others, as well as to try and dismantle the systematic racism that is imposed on us from a young age. I can never sit here and tell you that I can experience what Starr went through (or what any POC—black or otherwise—has ever been through), I can only educate myself and emphasize with what’s been said/done to you—please call me out if I’ve said something that may be offensive and feel free to correct me if I’ve said anything wrong.

Alright now on with the book review! This book is so raw and powerful, Thomas does a great job of describing the scenes and the emotions Starr goes through during each scene. We get to see how she feels about dating a white boy while being black herself, how her neighbourhood is beautiful despite it being described as the hood, we also get to see how Starr’s demeanor completely changes while she’s at school vs when she’s visiting her family. While Thomas’ writing may be simple, she does a great job of capturing those moments and the emotions tied within the scene.

As we get to see Starr becoming a witness and taking legal action, I wasn’t sure where the story was headed. Would Khalil get justice and would the cop go to jail? How would Starr’s mental health be affected? Will her family be okay? (Don’t you just love it when there’s so much more conflict in the story that needs to be resolved and yet there are only 2 chapters left) Etc. etc. The thing about The Hate U Give is that there are multiple story lines, which help to drive the story forwards. Those plotlines didn’t feel out of place or forced—everything seemed to progress at a reasonable pace.

I feel like one of the key parts of this story are the characters and their dynamics to the story. The most obvious being between Starr and her family. Although Starr has her own secrets that she keeps from her dad (*cough cough* Chris *cough cough*), I feel like they still have a strong bond, especially as the story went on and her dad, Maverick, stood behind Starr, even when things went south. (I could also 100% relate to Starr bickering with her brothers—even her half-brother). Then there’s Chris, which I kinda feel weird about him...which I feel like it’s a spoiler so I’ll talk about it under the cut. Overall, I’m glad that while he doesn’t understand what Starr has been through, he doesn’t judge her—he listens to her story and he also stays by Starr’s side at all times. I appreciate that Thomas didn’t put too much focus on the romance, otherwise I think it would’ve detracted from the main message. Finally, there are Starr friends. Even though we only got to know Khalil for a bit at the beginning, I like that Starr’s friendship with him was sprinkled throughout the story, even if it was in subtle ways. You could tell that, while their friendship may have fallen apart, Starr really cared for him and he was at the forefront of her mind. We also get to see Maya and Haliey’s friendship with Starr...and I can’t talk much about that without spoilers :/ let’s just say...it was interesting…

While I can’t exactly relate to Starr on an emotional/traumatic/life experience level, I love that we are both Harry Potter fans and she runs a Tumblr (which idk why but I’m always taken aback when books have Tumblrs?? Yet here we are). I appreciate that she tries to see the best in people, until they prove her wrong (or give her a reason to not like them). I think Starr is a strong role model in the sense that she stands up for herself and is determined to get justice, although she’s not cocky about it. It’s quite the opposite, she doubts herself—I just remember that there were so many parts where she blamed herself for not recalling every single detail of the incident or not putting emphasis on the type of person Khalil was to avoid him getting stereotyped. Starr also questioned her relationship with Chris, albeit she seemed a bit naive at some points. Because of Starr’s strong personality and her core values, the message of The Hate U Give is so much stronger, hence why I feel like everyone should read this novel.

Finally, I learned a lot from this novel. Regardless of the fact that this is a fictional book, it is very much based on the realities of Black people and the hardships they must endure on a daily basis. To be honest, I feel so dumb for not even realizing that the title spells out THUG and runs parallel with Tupac’s meaning of THUG LIFE. Mind you, now when I look at the cover, it’s all I see. I also didn’t realize that Black kids and teens are taught how to act around the police—all to be avoided to get arrested, shot, or killed—which is frankly, messed up. Thomas also takes the time to address the names she used, intentionally to give another layer of the book, which I feel that it is based on reality. I can definitely see why this book has received so many awards—and if this book were implemented in schools, it would allow the discussion on racism to be opened and it would also allow kids to see that not all authors are white, old men (looking at you, Shakespeare, which tbh the only good play I read was Macbeth).

I wanted to thank you for reading my review; if you’ve read this book, I’d love to know your thoughts. Below the cut, I have a spoiler section that I wanted to include (which I might add in future reviews, idk though).

Please stay safe and healthy,

~ Cassandra / an-avid-reader

THE REMAINDER OF THIS REVIEW CONTAINS SPOILERS

Okay, I’m not going to lie, but I thought that no one knew about Chris; didn’t Starr mention within the first few chapters that she can’t introduce him to her family because she’s afraid of what they’ll say/judge her for dating a white boy? But then, it turns out it’s just her dad that doesn’t know about him??? Idk if my memory is really that bad or if it’s such a slim detail (maybe it actually is an inconsistency o.O). But anyways, I love how Maverick was just playing with him (and making it clear that Chris would be in big trouble if he hurt Starr). I’m also not sure if he has a fetish for Black women (which Starr also pointed that out)—which I don’t know how to feel about that. I know some people have a thing for people of colour (Asians are commonly a fetish too, for example) but then some guys also have a thing for super short girls? Um yeah. I’ll probably leave it at that.

I’m not sure if it was just me, but I deadass thought Seven was going to be a gangbanger. He was sooooo suspicious anytime King was mentioned (which I get King is with Seven’s biological mom, but still I can’t be the only one who was suspicious, right?). I have to give him props though for putting his sisters’ needs before his own and for also listening to Iesha’s point of view. This man doesn’t give on people easily, and that’s a nice change.

The last thing I wanted to include in this spoiler section is Haliey. I just— wtf man. She perfectly embodies the issue and idk she gave me such Karen vibes. It’s so frustrating that she just accepted the newspaper’s article story at face value—I don’t even think she even took the time to listen to the other point of view. I’m so glad that Starr punched her in the face, even though that resulted in her getting in trouble. And it’s not even towards just Starr that she was racist! When Maya opened up about Haliey’s comments, I was pretty infuriated. I think Haliey’s comments came from a place of ignorance or a lack of education, but it just bothered me that she just brushed it off. Smh “it was just a joke” or “get over it” *rolls eyes* Just apologize, Haliey, and educate yourself, please. Actually, maybe she could take lessons from Mr. Warren, their english teacher because he was lowkey a G. I was pleased to see he was a teacher (who are often seen as role models) that actually gave a crap about Starr and what she was going through. I guess we just need to be more attentive to what people have to say and be more empathetic when they’re hurt.

#just one more ~ queue #book review #the hate u give #angie thomas #blm #black awareness #booklr #reading #read #favourite

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perspective-series · 4 years

Text

Kingdom Perspective (14)

By: @arc852 and @hiddendreamer67

Warnings: Fear, panic, kidnapping, keeping/treating people like pets, threats, and unwanted touching/grabbing

First Chapter || Previous Chapter || Next Chapter

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Virgil looked at the toothpick, realizing he had been caught in a lie. “Oh, I would, but we’ve really got to finish our game…”

Roman thought for a moment and his eyes glanced towards the board. “Will you show me if I win?” Roman asked.

“If you win?” Virgil considered those odds. Virgil was pretty good at chess, and it seemed Roman had only ever won in a fluke. “Yeah, I’ll take those odds. What happens if I win though?”

“You don’t have to show me your claimed ‘skills’?” Roman suggested, trying his best to keep the grin off his face.

“I was hoping for more of a prize, but I do like being lazy.” Virgil rubbed at his chin. “Shake on it?” Virgil stuck out his hand.

Roman carefully gripped Virgil’s hand between his thumb and forefinger and gently shook it. “The deal has been made.” Roman said.

He then reached over and moved his queen. “Checkmate.”

Virgil’s face fell, slowly realizing the trap he had so foolish fallen into as he was busy underestimating his opponent.

“Uh...so about that.” Virgil looked sheepish. “I may have slightly exaggerated my skills.”

Roman hummed, the smirk still on his face. “Yes, I figured. But a deal is a deal.” He held out the toothpick out more insistently. “I want to see how well you can fake your way through this.”

“Oh geez.” Well, here goes nothing. Virgil hesitantly grabbed the toothpick.

Roman grinned and then sat back, arms crossed. “Alright, show me what you got.” Roman had a feeling this was going to be very entertaining.

“Ah, of course, my fencing skills.” Virgil adjusted his grip on the wooden rod. ‘En Guarde!” Virgil thrust it forwards like he had seen on tv, then tried to re-enact some of the fight scenes from various fantasy scenarios. Though the moves in his head were epic, bringing them to life more resembled… well, him wildly waving a stick around like a child who just discovered Harry Potter.

Roman couldn’t help but laugh as he watched Virgil practically waving the stick around. “Okay, no, just...no.” Roman said in between laughs. “You’re even holding it wrong and your position is quite frankly atrocious.”

“Hey, gimme a break.” Virgil shrugged, stopping his little charade. “I am using a toothpick here.”

“True but you could still hold it better. Even the way you stand can make a huge difference. Here, let me…” Roman reached towards Virgil as he spoke but trailed off and froze as he realized what he was doing. He bit his lip. “Um...may I?”

Virgil tensed. “May you what?” He asked, not sure how far Roman had intended to go.

“Just, move you into position? It’s less confusing to move you myself than if I tried to explain it…” Roman said, hand still hovering. “I’ll be gentle, I promise.”

Virgil was about to protest, but then he remembered that in lots of athletic things the trainers would help guide your limbs into position. This was only different because of a very noticeable size gap, but for once Roman’s grabbing made sense. It was likely how Roman learned to do it, too.

“Uh, yeah, I guess.” Virgil agreed, trying not to feel weird about it. After all, in this instance touching actually meant that Roman was treating him like a regular person.

Roman gave the human a soft smile and then brought his hand the rest of the way over to Virgil, gently starting to nudge his limbs into the correct position. “See, your feet need to be like this and more apart, putting a bit more weight on the right then the left.” Roman nudged his feet just so.

“And you need to hold the sword up higher.” He pushed on Virgil’s arms to move.

Virgil corrected his footing, moving whenever he felt Roman’s fingers pushing him into place. True to his word, Roman’s touch was almost uncharacteristically gentle.

“Like this?” Virgil asked, shifting his hold on the toothpick as his arms were straight out in front of him, propped up by Roman’s fingers still.

Roman grinned. “Perfect!” Roman took his hand away. “Now, jab the sword forward quick and then bring it back to the same position.”

“Hya!” Virgil lunged forwards, then did his best to reset as Roman instructed.

“Nice! See, I told you a proper stance can make a hell of a difference.” Roman said with a grin. “Now try a forward slash, but step forward as you do this one and then back to position.”

“Ah, yes, the forward slash.” Virgil looked a bit lost. “Just to make sure you’ve got this down pat, I think you should educate the group.”

Roman blinked at that but grinned. “Why of course.” Roman stood up and grabbed his sword from the corner. He back a bit away and got into position. “You do it, like so.” He grunted the last word out as he delivered a heavy forward slash before getting back into position.

Virgil blinked, watching the giant blade move through the air. He didn’t feel in danger, what with the fact it was Roman and he was standing several feet away, but it was still a sight to behold.

Virgil focused back on himself, copying the movements. Though he got the positioning correct, it was a lot less impressive when done with a toothpick.

“You are learning fast.” Roman said with a proud grin. “Want to go over a few more moves?” Roman was excited to teach.

“Sure, Princey.” Virgil smirked. It certainly couldn’t hurt to know a few sword moves, even if he would probably never get into a sword fight in his life. Besides, this was actually pretty fun.

Roman continued to show Virgil a few more moves, each one Virgil getting after a try or two. Roman had to admit, Virgil was a natural. Or maybe that was just his teachings. Either way, Virgil was doing great.

But after an hour, Roman could see Virgil was getting pretty tired, not used to the strenuous workout. “I think that’s a good place to end, what do you think?”

“Oh, yeah.” Virgil panted, not realizing how exhausting this would be; he certainly needed to work out more. “I can take a break if you’re feeling tired.”

Roman smiled. “I think a break would be good for the both of us.” Roman placed his sword back in the corner and took a seat. “You did better than I thought, though. I’m really impressed.”

“Thanks.” Virgil gave him an actual smile, sitting down as well. “You’re not so bad yourself.”

Roman chuckled. “Why thank you. I’d say I’m a natural but it could also be the ten years of lessons as well. Hard to tell at this point.”

“I have to say I’m...actually impressed.” Virgil admitted. “I know you were probably forced to do it, but still, that’s a lot of dedication. I’ve never really been dedicated to anything.”

“I wouldn’t say that.” Roman said with a teasing smile. “After all, you seem pretty dedicated to that look of yours.”

“Ah yes, my emo personality.” Virgil snorted. “Well, at least all my years on MySpace and Tumblr are finally paying off.”

Roman blinked. “I have no idea what those are.” They did sound like they fit Virgil’s style though, somehow.

“Just some internet sites where dark souls like myself perfect our edgy personas.” Virgil smirked.

“...Internet?” Roman was so confused.

“Uh….” Virgil was at a loss for how to explain such a concept to a fantasy prince. “It’s kind of like...a really fast way to share information? Sort of like magic, maybe.”

“Oh. Okay.” He still didn’t really get it but he figured that was for the best. “Anyway, I was thinking. I may be able to get my hands on a sword your size. It may take a while but in the meantime we can practice with the toothpick. You already have a lot of the basics down so I’d say you’d get the rest of them within the next week. Then we could get started on a bit more complicated stuff. Oh! Maybe I can teach Patton too so you have someone to spar with!” Roman grinned, overcome with this new excitement.

Virgil felt his heart twinge slightly, feeling guilty to be the bearer of bad news. “Uh...Roman? That all sounds great, but I’m not going to be here next week, remember?” So long as everything went according to plan, of course.

Reality crashed down on Roman at Virgil’s words. “Ah, yes, right…” His excitement was gone in an instant, replaced by the ever familiar gnaw of loneliness and disappointment. “I mean...must you leave right away?” Roman asked quietly.

“...well, we really shouldn’t delay it.” Virgil reasoned, only a tad bit nervous at Roman’s wording. Now he mostly just felt pity for the guy. Roman didn’t exactly seem to have many friends, if Virgil himself even counted as one. “I’ve already been gone long enough, and Patton needs to get out of here as soon as possible.”

Roman looked down. “Right. No, yes, of course you are right. Can’t...can’t delay it…” Roman sighed. He had been hoping...but of course, why would Virgil want to stay with him after everything he had done? Maybe he even deserved to feel this way, for all the trouble he caused. All the times he had treated Virgil as a...pet.

“...hey.” Virgil looked at Roman intently. “I had fun just now with you, Roman. This isn’t personal, I just...I don’t belong here, you know? And even if I wanted to stay here, well, I couldn’t...could I? I mean we saw how today went when I tried to accompany you.”

“No, you’re right. You have your own world you need to go back to and it is dangerous for you here, it’s just…” Roman sighed, thinking something over.

“Virgil? ...Are we friends?” Roman had to ask. He knows they weren’t at first but maybe now? He was better now, after all. Virgil even said he had had fun hanging out with him! But...Roman was still nervous of what Virgil would say.

“I mean, I’m not really a labels person, but…” Virgil thought it over. It was strange to think about, but he did find himself actually caring about Roman now as a person. “Yeah, I’d say we are.”

Roman’s eyes widened. Having hoped for that answer but not expecting it. “R-Really? Even after everything I did…?”

“Do you want to not be friends?” Virgil said incredulously.

“No!” Roman exclaimed. “No, I very much want to be friends! I just...do I really deserve your friendship? I know I am changed now but I still...I treated you so horribly…” Roman felt like he could cry, honestly, but years of feeling like that helped him to push the feeling away and keep his eyes dry.

“Ugh, yeah I know.” Virgil shuddered, his memories flashing back to when he first came here. All the grabbing, the demands, the constant belittling…

“But it’s not like you were trying to be a massive jerkwad.” Virgil pointed out. “You’re just an idiot. Which made it super hard to get through your thick skull, but also made it easier to forgive you for all that. Because you’re not really a bad person at all.”

Roman gave Virgil a soft smile. “Thank you...that means a lot.” Roman sighed and looked away for a moment.

“I guess that means I have a whopping total of...one friend.” Roman chuckled humorlessly.

“I thought Remy was your friend.” Virgil reminded him. “And Logan has to be your friend, he’s your brother. He’s contractually obligated to tolerate you.”

“Logan may have to tolerate me but that does not make us friends. As for Remy...that’s a bit of a longer story...but he doesn’t consider us friends.” Roman said sadly.

“Well why not?” Virgil said incredulously. “I mean, he annoys me, but he’s perfect for you.”

“I thought so too. But he...well, during that chess game I told you about, he...told me he couldn’t be my friend. That I was not only too young but...but I was technically his boss and not only that but the prince and he said it would be...weird.” Roman didn’t meet Virgil’s eyes as he explained.

“...oh.” Virgil had thought everyone would be clambering over each other to be best friends with a prince; he never imagined that just holding the title would keep you alienated from others.

“Well what about all your soldier dudes?” Virgil offered. “Surely there’s somebody who sword fights you who you consider a friend.”

Roman just shook his head. “The most half of them want to do is prove they are better than the prince of the kingdom. The other half don’t do anything because I have the power to get them in trouble…�� And maybe Roman would have done so, had done so, when he was younger, but not now...he was past that.

“Gotcha.” Virgil noticed the friend pool seemed pretty thin. “So, who can you befriend then?”

“I don’t know...I feel like I’ve tried everyone.” Maybe if he hadn’t been born a prince, he’d have more friends...but he would never know.

“I mean, come on, there has to be somebody!” Virgil insisted. “Other royals? Visiting dignitaries?”

Roman shook his head. “Just you.” Roman said quietly, looking down at his lap.

“...right.” Virgil muttered. “I see why you did the whole kidnap a human thing now. I mean, still incredibly, horribly wrong, but...at least I get it.”

“It came from a mix of jealousy towards Logan and my...my loneliness.” Roman said. “You’d think I would be used to it by now and I am but...it still hurts.”

“Yeah, no kidding.” Virgil certainly wasn’t the mother hen type where he felt like it was his responsibility to fix all of Roman’s problems, but at the same time he couldn’t help but feel sorry for the guy.

“Back home I’m the same way.” Virgil fessed up. “Except I didn’t try so hard to make friends, I just drive people away naturally.”

“Really? I never would have thought.” Roman teased slightly, despite his down in the dumps mood.

“Heh, yeah.” Virgil’s smirk held less sass then normal, his eyes betraying a hint of sadness. “I...didn’t have much back home. I don’t know if anybody even knows I’m gone. Kind of a bummer when you think about it, and now I’m just gonna have to thrust myself back in...mediocrity.”

“Yes...sort of like what will happen to me once you are gone.” Back to a sad and lonely normal.

“Mhm.” Virgil mused. “...what if I stayed?”

Roman’s head snapped up, looking at Virgil. “Wh-What?” Had he heard Virgil right?

“Oh, ah, I mean…” Crap. Virgil hadn’t meant to say that out loud, but now he had to explain himself. “I was just...thinking. About the ‘what if’s.”

“R-Right.” Roman bit his lip, trying not to get his hopes. “And...what if you stayed?” Roman echoed Virgil’s question back at him.

“Well…” Virgil gazed off into space, thinking about it. “I mean, it’s dangerous here. Would definitely need to figure out some precautions or something. But when you think about it, every life has some danger, right? Not exactly a bad gig being all chummy with a prince. No more minimum wage, no more rent….”

“R-Right. I could provide everything for you. And, of course, I wouldn’t put you in harm’s way again. And I would be able to keep my only friend…” Roman listed off his own list of things.

“But I mean that’s crazy, right?” Virgil snapped his head back towards Roman, having not really been listening. “I can’t stay here, I- it doesn’t make sense...does it?”

Roman bit his lip. “Of course, I’m not going to force you to stay.” Roman started off with. “But...you could stay. It’s not so far out of the question.”

“I think I might be going insane.” Virgil pressed at his temples, trying desperately to come to his senses. After all, no sane person would want to stay.

Virgil froze, a sudden realization hitting him. “Am I becoming Patton?”

Roman’s eyes widened. “No, of course not! I mean…” Roman bit his lip. “It’s different, right? I’m actually treated you like a person. Not a pet, not anymore. Not like Logan.”

“Yeah, I guess.” Virgil remained unconvinced. “But it’s still letting somebody take care of you, liking them because they’re nicer than before...ugh this is such a mess.” Virgil groaned, putting his head on his knees. A few days ago he was so sure of what he wanted. Now he wasn’t even sure if he was brainwashed.

Roman sighed, and leaned down to be a bit more eye level with the human. “Virgil, I will not hide how much I want you to stay. I want you to stay more than anything but...I refuse to keep you here if that is not what you want or even if you think wanting to stay is unhealthy. Just say the word and both you and Pat will be home. Or say another and...you can stay.”

Virgil looked up to meet the Giant’s gaze. “Thanks Roman.” Virgil said earnestly. “I...I don’t know what I want, but for now I think it’s best we stick to the plan.” At least a sane Virgil had decided going home was the best action. Of course, sane Virgil had also hated Roman’s guts.

Roman nodded, trying not to show his disappointment. This was Virgil’s choice. “Alright. Then we’ll stick with the plan and after the coronation, you’ll go home.”

“Right.” Virgil nodded. It was the right thing to do. He would go home to Earth, where he belonged.

So why did that decision leave him feeling so empty inside?

“I...get why Patton’s struggling so much with this now.” Virgil gave a weak chuckle.

“I’m sorry Virgil. I wish...I wish things hadn’t ended up in such a mess.” Roman sighed.

“Yeah, no I know.” Virgil assured him. Of course, Roman was also incredibly biased, but he was all Virgil had and he was willing to support Virgil’s decision no matter what. That had to count for something.

...unless this was just some long-winded scheme to convince Virgil to stay all along…

Virgil looked up at Roman, smirking. No, it couldn’t be that. Roman wasn’t that smart.

“Anyway...I think it might be time for bed. What do you think?” Roman asked Virgil.

“Sounds good.” Virgil agreed. The many events of the day had tuckered him out.

“Are you okay with sleeping in my bed again?” Roman asked as he offered a hand, wanting to make sure.

Virgil nodded, climbing on. “It was fine before.”

“Just checking.” Roman said, carrying him over to the bed. He set him down and went to the closet to change before climbing into bed. “Goodnight, Virgil.” Roman said, blowing out the last candle.

“...goodnight, Roman.” Virgil replied. He wondered how many times he’d get to say that.

***

Logan knocked softly on his own bedroom door, indicating his arrival before slowly coming in. His face was weary from the toils of the day, but it lit up at the sight of Patton out on his desk. The cage had been pushed to the side, all but forgotten.

“Hello, Patton.” Logan greeted, sitting down. “My apologies for being so late.”

Patton grinned but behind his smile was sadness for the date they would be seperated was coming ever closer. “It’s okay. You’re here now!” Patton exclaimed. He went over to take a seat closer to Logan. “How are you, uh, holding up with everything?” Patton asked. Logan looked exhausted.

“I am...functioning.” Logan replied. Though the pressure of the throne was indeed quite the burden, the true source of all his worries and aching sat before him. The decision to let Patton go was a heavy one, which weighed upon him throughout the day.

Patton nodded. “Do you think it will be easier once you actually...are king?” Patton asked. Of course, he wouldn’t be around to see that. Which made Patton sadder.

Logan looked at Patton thoughtfully. “That part remains unclear.” He reached out a hand, wanting to touch Patton as if to affirm he was not yet gone.

Not yet, but soon.

At the sight of the hand, Patton scooted closer and gave a nod. Wanting the affirming touch as much as Logan did.

Logan let out a sigh of relief, his hand finding it’s familiar position draped around Patton’s form.

“...I’m going to miss you.” Logan admitted softly.

Patton leaned more into Logan’s hand, turning to bury his face in the closest finger. “Then please let me stay.” Patton asked softly.

“Don’t.” Logan shook his head. “Not tonight. I don’t want to spoil our last evenings together with petty arguing. You need to go and that is final.”

Patton sighed. “I know.” Patton knew but he still hated it. “I’m sorry.”

“All is forgiven.” Logan smiled, ruffling Patton’s hair slightly. “Now, perhaps we have time for a bit of light reading before we turn in for the night.”

“That sounds nice.” Patton said, sending Logan a small smile. He hated that they couldn’t spend more time together before he had to go but he would take any time he could get.

“Excellent.” Logan picked Patton up, heading to his bedroom door. He peeked out, checking that the coast was clear before heading towards the library. “What title should we read tonight?”

Patton thought for a moment. “Well, we never got to finish that one book. The one about the fairies? And that mystery?” Patton said, trying to recall the book. He hoped Logan knew what he was talking about, seeing as how he forgot what it was called.

“Ah, The Lost Button.” Logan nodded, remembering. It was a common fairytale, but Patton always seemed intrigued by the simplest of fiction regardless since he knew none of the old tales. “Perhaps we can finish it.”

“Yay!” Patton cheered. He had been hoping to finish it at some point. And well...this was his last chance.

Logan perused the shelves, pulling the familiar powdered blue novel from its resting place. He sat down in one of the dark red armchairs in the back corner of the library.

“What page were we on?” Logan murmured. He set Patton up on his shoulder, using his hands to flip through the pages.

Patton clung to the fabric below him as he stared down at the book. “I think we stopped at chapter 14 last time.” Patton remembered.

“Ah yes, now I remember.” Logan turned to the correct page, reading the story aloud and letting himself get lost in the narrative.

Patton closed his eyes and got lost in both the story and Logan’s voice. It was nice and quiet, despite being a bit hoarse from exhaustion. Slowly, Patton began to realize that he had long since stopped listening to the story and was focused solely on Logan’s voice.

He began to realize that this was one of the last times he would ever hear it. Especially in this kind of situation. Before Patton could fully realize it, he was crying softly into his hand.

Logan’s storytelling faded off, hearing the soft sobs coming from his shoulder. “...Patton?”

“I-I’m sorry, I just-I…” Patton continued to cry. “I...I’m gonna m-miss this.”

Logan stared down at the pages before him, his heart once again aching. “...I will too.” Before Patton, he had only ever read academic pieces. It hardly made sense to keep wasting his time if there was no one to share these moments with.

Patton wiped his tears away, looking down at the book. “I’m sorry for ruining it…” He had to go and ruin a good moment with his crying, hadn’t he.

“Patton, you’ve ruined nothing.” Logan insisted. “It would hardly be sincere of us to act as though everything were as it once was.”

“Right…” Patton sighed. “Can we still...still finish it?” Patton asked, hoping it wasn’t too late. It didn’t look like they had too much left anyway.

“Of course.” Logan cleared his throat, trying to make the lump there go away as he started reading once more.

Again, Patton wasn’t listening much to the story but at least he wasn’t crying anymore. But all too soon, Logan’s voice stopped and Patton opened his eyes to see that Logan had closed the book. “It’s...over? Already?”

“Happily Ever After.” Logan repeated the last phrase with a nod. “That’s usually how such stories end.”

“Oh, right.” Patton was quick to apply his life on that phrase. Knowing it wasn’t going to be a happily ever after. “I guess it’s...bedtime?” Patton said with a sad sigh. It seemed his time with Logan was just going by faster and faster.

“If you’re tired.” Logan answered, not wanting to keep Patton up. “Of course, if you feel up to it, we could read another story.” Logan knew, logically, that would be a bad plan, but he also knew logically that his hours with Patton were quickly becoming limited. It seemed silly to waste so many precious moments sleeping.

“...Could we?” Patton asked softly.

“We could.” Logan smiled softly, standing with a certain grace to keep from jostling Patton as he moved back towards the shelves. His fingers ran gently along the spines, trying to find a slimmer novel. They certainly wouldn’t have enough time to finish another book like that before...well, it didn’t need to be said.

“What sort of story should we end on?” Logan asked, never realizing how important choosing a book could become. “A happy story? A peaceful one?”

“I...I think I need a happy one. One with an equally happy ending…” Patton answered. Why he was torturing himself with something he could not have, he didn’t know. But...he still enjoyed them.

“A happy ending.” Logan murmured. What a strange concept.

He pulled a thinner green book off the shelves, checking the cover to ensure he had made the correct choice before heading back to the armchair.

Patton smiled sadly as he looked down at the new book. He was happy for the extra time though.

“I think you will enjoy this one.” Logan explained, looking at the cover briefly before flipping to the first page. “It’s about a boy, Jack, who is a tiny creature that is quite human like as well.”

Patton blinked for a moment. “Wait, you mean Jack and the Beanstalk?”

“You know it?” Logan turned back to the cover, trying to remember if he had shown Patton this book. “Have we read this one before?”

“N-No but it’s a common fairytale in my world.” Patton explained, looking down at the cover. Sure enough, it was what Patton remembered the cover to look like.

“...oh.” Logan frowned at the piece of literature. That was certainly...odd. Logan had never heard of any mediums that were the same in both his and Patton’s world. What could that possibly mean? It was quite a strange coincidence. “Well, in that case, perhaps we should choose another story, rather than something you know.”

“No! I-I want to read this one. Please?” He wanted to see if it was exactly the same. Besides, in a way, he could kind of relate to the story. Kind of.

“Very well then.” Logan opened the book once more and began to read.

As Patton listened, it did seem like this one was similar to his worlds version. Until they got to the giant part. Instead of the man-eating giant like he was used to in the story, the giant was just another regular person. Which, he looked at Logan, if this version was made by giants, he supposed that made sense.

Logan continued the tale, following Jack as he stole the three golden treasures. Upon the third theft the giant chased after him, but Jack cut down the beanstalk to trap the giant in the clouds.

“Then Jack and his mother prospered with their newfound riches for the rest of their days.” Logan wrapped up the story. “There was rejoicing throughout the land, the beanstalk was gone, and they lived happily ever after.”

“It’s a little different in my world.” Patton admitted. “But mostly the same.”

“How does your version differ?” Logan asked.

“Uh, well…” Should he tell Logan? “In, um, our version the giant...eats humans…” He said the last part a bit quieter, looking away.

“What?” Logan looked appalled at this notion, turning to view Patton on his shoulder in horror. “That’s positively barbaric! Why would you write such a tale?”

“I didn't write it!” Patton exclaimed. “And uh...now that I think about it, a lot of stuff involving giants had them eating humans…” That was certainly...strange, now that Patton thought about it.

“That is truly horrible.” Logan gagged at the thought. He certainly could never imagine trying to use Patton for sustenance.

“Yeah...but uh...that was one of the reasons I was so scared when I first got here.” Patton chuckled a bit. “I actually thought one of you was going to eat me.” It wasn’t funny at the time but Patton found he could kind of laugh at it now. After all, he knew that to be very very false.

On the other hand, Logan was far from amused. “Patton, my sincerest apologies.” He murmured, a foul taste still present on his tongue from the matter at hand. “If I had only known I could have alleviated your worries much sooner.” The idea of Patton being afraid of him in such a way left Logan’s stomach in a knot.

“Oh, no it’s okay. By the time I was given to you, I knew giants weren’t gonna eat me.” Patton said. No, he just thought they were going to kill him. After all, they were going to feed him to the dogs before Logan took him.

“Regardless, the knowledge might have helped.” Logan thought back on those first few days with a wince. “I would have done anything to make you less afraid.”

“Honestly? I think anything you would have tried wouldn’t have worked…” Patton rubbed the back of his neck. It was why it had taken around a month for any progress to have been made.

“...Right.” Of course Patton was correct. It was one of the many reasons that Patton had to return to his own world.

“Patton, what would you have done in my position?” Logan asked, genuinely curious.

Patton blinked. Well, that was...an unexpected question. “I...I don’t know.” He admitted honestly. “As of right now, I would have let them go right away. But...before…” Patton wanted to think he would be good and listen but he could never be sure.

“Before?” Logan tilted his head. “Before what?”

“Before...all this happened to me...I’m not sure what I would have done if I found someone tiny. It’s...hard to tell after my own experiences.” Patton explained.

“Ah, because you would feel empathetic.” Logan nodded in understanding.

“Yeah…” Patton agreed. Patton thought for a moment. “How would you feel if you were in...my place?” Patton couldn’t help but ask.

“Ripped from my world and taken to another, larger in scale?” Logan clarified. “Would it be myself as I am today or before I met you?”

Patton hummed in thought. “...Both? Like uh...would you react differently?”

“Well, I suppose they would be much the same.” Logan admitted. “I would be quite...off put. Overwhelmed, frustrated, hesitant. From there it would depend on what sort of individual I ended up with; I suppose that must be the worst part of it, isn’t it? The fact that you have no say in your own placement within the world. You are at our mercy in terms of your experiences, aren’t you Patton?”

Patton just nodded. “That’s...exactly how I used to feel. Still do...sometimes.” Patton admitted.

Logan nodded sympathetically. “I think that would be my least favorite part of the ordeal. I enjoy being in control of my own fate.”

“So did I…” Patton spoke, eyebrows furrowing. “But as...as time went on...not being in control was kind of...nice?” Patton rubbed the back of his head.

Logan’s gaze showed his confusion. “How so?”

“Well…” Patton sighed. “I don’t know. It was just nice to not have to worry so much about messing up when everyone was telling me what to do.” Patton shrugged.

“Ah, I see.” Logan looked thoughtfully off into the distance. “I can certainly see the appeal of having a weight off your shoulders.”

Patton nodded. “...Why did you save me that day?” Patton asked out of the blue. But the question had been nagging at him for quite some time.

Logan blinked, surprised at the question. “Where did that come from?”

Patton looked away. “It’s been on my mind since it happened, I just...never asked it out loud. I just don’t really get it. No one else cared about me. They were going to feed me to the dogs after all...So why did you care enough to save me?”

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FLASHBACK MODE

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Logan sat with his back straight against the wood, trying to appear as regal as his father who sat in the great throne to Logan’s left. Logan sat in a similarly fashioned throne, although it was less ornate and shorter in stature: fit for a crown prince.

“Your excellency!” A shout from the hall caught both members of the royal family’s attention. The royal sorcerer came skidding into the throne room, looking uncharacteristically giddy. In his arms was what looked to be a container covered in a sheet of velvet fabric. “The portal scry was impeccable! I have seen wonderous lands beyond our own, filled with all sorts of peculiar specimens. And, as a symbol of my humble gratitude for continuing to fund such an essential and beneficial portion of my research-” This declaration was accompanied by a deep bow- “I have brought one such specimen before you today for your pleasure, to entertain as you see fit. Behold!” With this, Dee dramatically whirled the velvet cloth away, making it disappear with a snap of his fingers.

Patton’s eyes blinked at the return of light and then widened when he saw where he was. A giant throne room. Straight out of a fairy tale. The giant who had captured him was behind him, holding his cage high for two new giants to gawk at him. Patton scooted back a smidge but couldn’t really do anything about being surrounded on all sides.

His ribs still hurt from when he was grabbed up and there were still tear tracks stained on his face from earlier. And as he watched these new giants, the tears began to return.

The king perked up slightly as Dee revealed the being in the cage. “What...is that?” Now he was intrigued.

“This, your majesty, is a rarity most closely resembling the ancient mythical creature known simply as... the human.” Dee brought the cage closer, making sure to hold it high so that the King could clearly see the cowering form inside. “Born with our form but cursed to remain a miniscule size, these creatures are meant to look upon us as their masters. An entire race of servants that have been hiding in the realm beneath ours.”

Logan looked at the creature trembling behind the cage bars. It certainly didn’t appear to be an ideal servant. Surely the simplest of tasks would prove fatal for such a twig.

“Fascinating.” The king leaned forward more, staring intently at the tiny human creature. Patton whimpered, scooting back more even if that only put him closer to Dee.

“And you say there are more of these creatures?” The king asked.

“An entire realm of them.” Dee grinned maliciously. “Right now my scrying powers are all but depleted, but given enough of your fabulous resources, my liege, I can acquire a large collection of these for your amusement. And, should you be so generous, if I were to be granted a few specimens of my own, I could advance my- our- knowledge of these creatures to determine how to make them bend most effectively to my- your!- will.”

“It seems more fitting for this being to be used for recreation rather than utility.” Logan observed, raising a doubting eyebrow.

Dee’s grin fell slightly. “Well, it is indeed possible that our legends are a bit...exaggerated. But whether or not these miniscule pets are capable of assisting the throne, certainly they can be taught to bow down before the illustrious king and find pleasure in exalting your greatness as does every other conscious being within the four corners of this beloved kingdom.”

“Yes, quite.” The king smirked. Soaking in all the praise. “How long have you had this one for? Can it do such a thing yet?” The king wondered.

Patton shook. He didn’t like any of this talk. How they were treating him and other humans as...as pets or slaves. Patton could barely believe this was even happening.

“Hardly an hour, my lord.” The sorcerer explained. “It was a fairly simple matter of extracting the screaming creature from its homeworld-” Dee cringed in memory, his ears still ringing- “before I prepared it to be brought before you on humbled knee. Though I have yet to train this specimen, I am certain that between the two of us it will quickly learn to happily kneel before your radiance as well.”

“Yes, I do believe so.” The king grinned. He then stood from his throne. “Shall we do a bit of...training right now? I must say, I am quite curious to see just what this being can do.” He leaned in close, face practically against the bars and Patton yelped, cowering in fright.

No, no, no! Please get away, please! Tears started running down his cheeks again. He just wanted this all the be a dream, but the throbbing pain of his body begged to differ.

Logan froze, feeling an unfamiliar aching in his chest as he watched the being tremble in fear. Logan frowned at the sensation. Why did he feel this way? What was this? For a moment Logan almost felt as though he should stop these events from happening, but he shook his head. What a silly notion. Even if he had such urges, his father’s word was law. The King was welcome to do whatever he pleased with this new discovery.

“Yes, we can get started right away.” Dee’s own grin stretched from ear to ear. “Right this way~” The sorcerer gave a large swooping motion with his arm and guided the King out of the throne room, leaving Logan alone.

The crown prince drummed his fingers on the arm of his chair. It was, after all, only a human.

Even if something occurred, it would certainly not mean the end of the world. With time Dee would be able to acquire another one to continue his and father’s training and research. If the human were to perish, only his father, Dee and Logan himself would even know the being existed in the first place. A single life given to the pursuit of magic and imperialization.

Despite all of this Logical thinking, Logan didn’t feel any better as the next few days passed. That was the strangest part of this: the feelings. Logan did not get feelings. In his mind, they were a disease that hindered a good leader’s mind. Strategic decisions were harder to make when one felt guilt or sympathy.

Sympathy. Was that what this was? Or Guilt? But why should Logan feel guilty? He certainly wasn’t the one torturing the poor creature in the name of discovery. And even if Logan did feel that these actions were unjust, it was not as though he could do anything to stop them; not until he became king, but that likely would not be for several years to come.

Logan picked idly at his dinner, more so pushing his salad around rather than consuming it. He could not get the tiny person’s face out of his head. Those distraught eyes haunted him in the night, forcing the prince to lay awake deep into the twilight hours. Yet when he passed father in the halls, the king looked as though he gained a full night’s rest. Why? Why was Logan the only one cursed to care about this creature’s life?

These thoughts continued to plague him, up until he next saw the human. It was dangling in a cage, attached to a stand that stood between his own throne and father’s. The human looked even more sad and pathetic than before, and as Logan peered at it he could see clear markings of injuries left during the sessions of ‘training’.

Patton kept his head down, trying his best to ignore the giants around him and the pain coursing through his body. Training had been...torture. He just wanted to be home, resting in his own bed, maybe watching some netflix. Or better yet, baking some yummy cookies. Tears slipped down Patton’s cheeks as he thought about home. Would he ever get to go back?

The king nodded to Logan as he came in before turning back to Dee. “This thing is taking too much time to train,” The king complained.

Logan slowly took his seat at his own throne, peering in at the cage. At this height, It was actually perfectly at eye level, and Logan had a perfect view of the human. He almost wished he didn’t; the thing looked miserable.

“Your highness, it’s only been a handful of days!” Dee smiled at the King, before sending a snarl in the direction of the cage. “Every creature can be broken eventually, no matter how stubborn.”

“Well, at this point I’d much rather throw him to the dogs. At least the thing can be useful as dog food.” The king commented.

Patton gasped at that, head snapping up in the king’s direction. He couldn’t be...but his face held no other expression than complete boredom. “N-No…” Patton whimpered quietly, shaking even more as he placed his head in his hands.

Logan and Dee both looked appalled by the suggestion as well.

“Your highness, let’s not be so hasty!” Dee gave a hesitant laugh, looking almost nervous. “Surely you know such a valuable specimen is too precious to be thrown to the dogs. Allow me to study it, I guarantee you you’ll be pleased with the results.”

Logan frowned at the occupant of the cage. Did it just...speak? Was Logan imagining things? Had it spoken to Dee or father before? Logan found himself desperately curious for answers, but those answers would never come if this human ended up as dog food or a lab rat.

“Father, may I have it?” Logan asked, turning his gaze to the king. He found his heart was pounding, fearing that his plan might yet fail and this creature would suffer more. It may just be a human life, but it was a life all the same.

“You?” Dee said incredulously. “And what do you plan to do with it?”

The king waved his hand towards Logan. “You know what? Go ahead, Logan. You may have it.” The king decided.

Patton’s eyes widened and he lifted his head up again to look at the giant. Logan. Wh-What? So he wasn’t getting thrown to the dogs? Was being with Logan better? Or...would the torture continue…

“But, your highness-!” Dee’s whining was cut off by an interruption from Logan.

“Father, as I recall, as king your word is law.” Logan pushed up his spectacles. “To question such a decision would be treason, would it not?”

“...of course it would.” Dee’s reply was muttered through gritted teeth.

The king gave a firm nod, looking at Dee. “...I also don’t want to see anymore of these things running around. They seem to be nothing more than a waste of time and space.” The king glared at the cage holding the human. Patton shivered and curled in on himself once again. The king huffed. “Your magic can be put to much better use.”

Dee’s jaw dropped. “Sire! Surely you do not mean this!”

“Questioning twice in one session?” Logan hummed.

“Yes, Dee, are you questioning my authority?” The king asked, narrowing his eyes.

Dee looked ready to spill royal blood on the throne room floor, bowing low and plastering on a smile that appeared to be more of a grimace. “Of course not, your majesty.”

“Good.” The king said and then turned his attention to his son. “Take the creature away and do what you want with him. But...keep me updated. On the major things.” They might not be worth it in the long run with how much time it takes to train them but he still found himself curious at the end result.

“Of course, Father.” Logan nodded in respect, standing up and unlatching the cage.

“If you need any assistance, I can offer my vast human expertise!” Dee called after him, sounding a bit desperate to have any interaction with the human as he watched his discovery leave the throne room.

“That won’t be necessary.” Logan called over his shoulder.

“Enough Dee. If Logan does not wish for your help, you will leave him and his human alone.” The king said. “Now leave, I have some work to attend to.” He shooed Dee away.

Patton moved to the farthest corner away from the giant prince. He couldn’t understand why Logan had saved him from death by dogs...did this giant care? Or was it just because he found him fascinating like Dee did.

...It was probably the latter…

Patton didn’t want to get hurt again.

Logan looked down at the cowering human, wincing at the way it looked. Logan stared straight ahead instead as he walked. Should he say something to it? Try to comfort the creature? The idea felt a bit silly, but all the same...it had spoken. Logan was sure of it.

“It’s alright.” Logan finally spoke, still focused ahead as he navigated into his bedroom. “You’re safe now. I promise.”

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

End of flashback

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

Patton frowned when Logan became quiet. “Logan?”

Logan looked at Patton as though just noticing the human was there. “My apologies, I was lost in my thoughts.”

Patton shifted a little on Logan’s shoulder and smiled. “It’s okay but uh...you never answered my question.”

“Right.” Logan nodded. “I suppose.... Well, I felt sympathetic to your plight.”

“Oh?” Patton titled his head. “Well...I’m glad you did. Your father and Dee sure didn’t…” Patton stared off sadly.

Logan lifted his hand, gently rubbing his finger along Patton’s side. He gave a tense sigh. “I know. I only wish I had thought to save you sooner.”

Patton turned to hug the finger. “It’s...okay.” Patton wished that too but there was no changing the past. “I’m okay now. That’s all that matters.”

Logan gave a slow nod. Patton’s safety now was all that mattered; and that’s why he couldn’t stay so attached to the little human.

“It’s late.” Logan observed, standing up. “We should head to bed.”

Patton deflated a bit but nodded. It was getting pretty late. “Okay.”

Carefully Logan returned the books to their proper spots on the shelves, leaving no trace of his presence. He shuffled back down the halls, already hiding a yawn behind his hand. With a grimace Logan noted the beginnings of the morning sun peeking over the horizon; perhaps he would not be gaining much sleep after all.

Patton noticed the sun as well and he winced. “Whoops.” He wanted to spend as much time as he could with Logan but he also knew Logan needed sleep. “Sorry.”

“It’s quite alright.” Logan assured him, settling into bed to try and gain the brief hour or two before he would be needed. “I was the one who suggested it.”

“I know but I know much you need sleep.” Patton said, settling down on Logan’s chest.

“A few sleepless nights won’t do me any long term harm.” Logan reasoned, closing his eyes and settling his hand over Patton.

Patton hummed, eyes already starting to close. He supposed it wouldn’t. “Goodnight, Lo.”

Logan smirked, amused at the notion of night when the sunlight was already streaming in. “Goodnight, Pat.”

#gt #Giant/tiny #thomas sanders #sanders sides #infinitesimal!sides #au #giants #human!virgil #human!patton #giant!roman #giant!logan #giant!deceit #platonic #Kingdom Perspective #part 14

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