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cynic-spirit · 13 hours

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The Fear

Bucky didn’t like to admit it, and neither did any of the others, but there was a subtle, unspoken truth that they all shared: they were afraid of Yn when she got angry. Not the kind of fear that made them cower, but a deep-seated respect that bordered on trepidation. Yn, with her intense eyes and commanding demeanor, had a presence that could send just about anyone into a state of apprehension.

It wasn’t just her formidable intellect or her scholarly achievements; it was the way she could channel all that intensity into a look, a stance, a few well-chosen words that made even the toughest of them reconsider their actions. Bucky had seen her in such moments—her eyes narrowing, her posture straightening, and her voice taking on a steely edge that brooked no argument.

There was a time when Sam had accidentally spilled coffee on one of her prized first edition books. Yn’s reaction had been swift and fierce. She didn’t raise her voice, but the disappointment and frustration in her eyes had made Sam feel smaller than he ever had. “I expect better care for things of such value, Sam,” she had said, her voice low but cutting. Sam had apologized profusely, his usual confidence evaporating under her intense gaze.

Steve had experienced it too, when he’d once made a flippant comment about her meticulous nature. “Steve, the precision and care I put into my work are what set it apart. I would appreciate it if you respected that,” she had said, her eyes boring into his. Steve had nodded quickly, feeling the weight of her words and the unspoken command behind them.

But it was Bucky who felt it the most keenly. He, who could face down adversaries without flinching, found himself on edge when Yn directed her anger at him. There was something about her unyielding integrity, her unwavering sense of right and wrong, that made him want to be better, to avoid disappointing her at all costs. He remembered a time when he had been too rough in handling a delicate situation, and she had called him out on it. “Bucky, there are ways to handle things that don’t involve brute force. I expect you to find them,” she had said, her voice like steel wrapped in silk. He had nodded, feeling the full impact of her words.

No one dared to cross her when she was in that state. It wasn’t just fear; it was respect for the strength and depth of her convictions. They all knew that beneath her calm exterior lay a core of iron, and when that iron was heated by anger, it became a force to be reckoned with.

Yn’s anger was not wild or uncontrolled; it was focused and precise, like a scalpel. She wielded it with the same skill and precision she brought to everything else in her life. And it was this that made them all, even Bucky, tread carefully when they saw that look in her eyes.

In the quiet moments, away from the intensity of her gaze, they would joke about it, teasing Bucky about how the only thing that could make him truly nervous was an angry Yn. But deep down, they all knew the truth. Yn’s anger was something to be respected, and they were all better for knowing it. It kept them in line, reminded them of the standards they needed to uphold, and most importantly, it showed them the strength of the woman they all cared about in their own ways.

And for Bucky, it was a constant reminder of why he loved her so deeply. Her passion, her integrity, her unwavering strength—they were all things that drew him to her, even as they made him wary. She was his guiding star, the one he wanted to be worthy of, and he would do anything to avoid seeing that look of disappointment in her eyes.

It was a typical evening at Bucky’s club, the low hum of conversation mingling with the clinking of glasses and the soft strains of jazz playing in the background. Bucky sat in his usual spot, a quiet corner with a good view of the room, his eyes scanning the crowd with a practiced ease. Steve, Sam, Thor, and Nick were scattered around the room, each engrossed in their own conversations, but always keeping an eye on the door.

The atmosphere shifted the moment Yn entered. Her presence commanded attention effortlessly. She moved with a quiet grace, her dark academia style standing out in the dimly lit club. Tonight, she wore a tailored blazer over a deep green turtleneck, her pleated skirt brushing just above her knee-high boots. Her glasses perched on the bridge of her nose, and her hair was swept up in a half updo, with a few strands elegantly framing her face.

As she stepped further into the club, her eyes scanning the room, she spotted Bucky. She took a deep breath and called out, her voice carrying a tone that was both commanding and unmistakable, “Sergeant James Buchanan Barnes!”

The sound of her full address, crisp and authoritative, sent a shiver down Bucky’s spine. It was rare for anyone to use his full name, and when Yn did, it was never without reason. He felt the weight of her words, the seriousness they carried, and knew that this was not a moment to be taken lightly.

All activity in the club seemed to pause for a split second, a brief moment of silence before the storm. The eyes of the staff and patrons flickered towards Yn and then quickly away, sensing the shift in the atmosphere. The members of Bucky’s inner circle, who had been so relaxed moments before, now exchanged quick, knowing glances.

“Good luck, Buck,” Steve murmured, clapping him on the shoulder before stepping away.

“You’re gonna need it, buddy,” Sam added with a sympathetic grin, his eyebrows raised in mock concern.

Thor chuckled, his deep voice rumbling, “Looks like you’re in for it now, Barnes. Best of luck.”

Nick, always the pragmatic one, gave a curt nod. “Hope you survive this one, man,” he said, before turning on his heel and heading towards the bar.

It was as if they were retreating from a battlefield, leaving Bucky to face the incoming storm alone. Bucky watched them disperse with a mix of amusement and apprehension. He straightened up in his seat, trying to steel himself for whatever was coming. Yn’s eyes were locked onto his, and as she approached, he could feel the intensity of her gaze.

The club’s lively buzz fell to an eerie quiet as Yn’s commanding voice echoed through the room. Her words hung in the air, causing a palpable shift in the atmosphere. Bucky’s friends, who had just been trying to make a hasty exit, froze in their tracks.

“I would like to talk to all of you if you would kindly oblige and take a seat,” Yn continued, her tone firm yet polite.

Steve, Sam, Thor, and Nick exchanged uneasy glances. They weren’t used to being on the receiving end of such authority, especially not from Yn. Despite their tough exteriors and formidable reputations, there was something about Yn’s composed demeanor and intense gaze that made them hesitate. It was as if they were back in boot camp, being called out by a superior officer.

Steve, ever the leader, was the first to move. He gave a subtle nod to the others, indicating they should comply. He walked to the nearest chair and sat down, trying to maintain a semblance of calm. His mind raced, wondering what had prompted this unexpected summons.

Sam followed suit, his usual confident swagger replaced with a cautious tread. He lowered himself into a chair next to Steve, casting a quick look at Bucky, who remained standing. Sam’s mind was already spinning scenarios, trying to guess what this could be about.

Thor, who was rarely intimidated, felt a strange sense of unease. Yn’s quiet authority was a stark contrast to the boisterous and often chaotic world he was used to. He took his seat with a bemused expression, his mind not quite processing how Yn, with her calm and scholarly demeanor, could command such presence.

Nick, always observant, noted the shift in the room’s energy. He knew better than to question it. He took his seat, his eyes darting between Yn and Bucky, trying to piece together the puzzle. There was a hint of admiration in his gaze; it wasn’t easy to command the attention of this group, yet Yn had done it effortlessly.

Bucky remained standing for a moment longer, his mind a whirlwind of thoughts. He was torn between his protective instincts and the respect he held for Yn. Finally, he took a deep breath and moved to sit, his eyes never leaving Yn’s. He could feel the tension in the room, the unspoken questions hanging in the air.

The others watched Buckyfor cues. As he sat down, they settled into an uneasy silence, their anticipation palpable. They were all seasoned fighters, used to facing danger head-on, but this was different. This was Yn, and her presence had a way of cutting through their defenses.

As they sat, the room seemed to shrink, the distance between them and Yn closing in. Each of them felt a mix of curiosity and apprehension. What could she possibly want to discuss that required all of them? They waited, their breaths held, for Yn to speak again.

“It has come to my attention that there are certain activities happening without my explicit permission,” she began, her eyes scanning the room.

The men exchanged uneasy glances, the weight of her words sinking in. No one dared to speak, the silence amplifying the gravity of the situation. Yn’s gaze was piercing, leaving no room for evasion or deceit.

“Now I would like an honest answer,” she continued, her tone unwavering. “Who allowed four of my underage students into this club and gave them free drinks?”

She asked the question calmly, quietly, yet with a clarity that left no room for misinterpretation. The silence that followed was deafening. Each of the men shifted uncomfortably in their seats, avoiding her gaze.

Steve was the first to break the silence, clearing his throat awkwardly. “Uh, Yn, we didn’t… I mean, I don’t think any of us…” he trailed off, his usual confidence faltering under her intense scrutiny.

Sam glanced at Steve, then back at Yn. “Yeah, I mean, we didn’t know they were underage,” he added, his voice lacking its usual bravado. “We just thought they were… you know… guests.”

Thor, who rarely found himself at a loss for words, remained silent, his brows furrowed in confusion. He looked around the room, trying to piece together what had happened.

Nick, ever observant, was the most composed, though even he felt the weight of Yn’s question. “We’ll get to the bottom of this, Yn,” he said, his tone measured. “But we genuinely didn’t know. It must have been a mix-up at the door.”

Bucky, however, felt a surge of protectiveness and guilt. He knew that, as the leader, the responsibility ultimately fell on him. “I’ll handle it,” he said, his voice firm but not meeting Yn’s eyes. “This won’t happen again.”

Yn's disappointment hung heavily in the air. Her words cut deeper than any reprimand they had ever received.

“I am very disappointed in all of you,” she said, her voice firm and unyielding. The men looked down, unable to meet her gaze. The weight of her disappointment was palpable.

Then, with a deliberate motion, Yn took off her glasses, revealing her intense, penetrating eyes. She pursed her red lips slightly, a gesture that somehow amplified her authority. Turning her focus to Bucky, she pointed her glasses at him like a weapon.

“And you, Mr. Barnes,” she continued, her voice tinged with both hurt and reproach, “I expected a little more honor from you. You almost got me fired for your carelessness.”

Bucky’s heart sank at her words. The regret was clear in his eyes, but he knew that no apology could erase the mistake.

Without another word, Yn turned and left the room, her exit as calm and composed as her entrance. The door closed behind her with a soft click, leaving the room in a heavy silence.

For a moment, no one moved or spoke. Then, the tension broke with a collective exhale.

Steve was the first to speak, his voice a mix of respect and disbelief. “Well, damn. I don’t think I’ve ever been scolded like that in my life.”

Sam chuckled, though it was laced with unease. “Yeah, no kidding. I felt like a kid being told off by my mom.”

Thor, ever the straightforward one, looked around the room with a puzzled expression. “Why did she take off her glasses? Was that supposed to make it worse?”

Nick, shaking his head, gave Thor a knowing look. “When a woman takes off her glasses and points them at you, it’s serious. Trust me, you don’t want to see it again.”

Bucky, still reeling from her words, rubbed the back of his neck. “I really messed up this time.”

Steve, trying to lighten the mood, grinned and slapped Bucky on the back. “Hey, Buck, at least she didn’t throw the glasses at you. That would’ve been worse.”

Sam joined in, a playful smirk on his face. “Or worse, made you wear them as punishment.”

Bucky couldn’t help but chuckle, despite his lingering guilt. “You guys are idiots,” he muttered, shaking his head.

Nick, ever the voice of reason, leaned in. “Alright, jokes aside, we need to fix this. We can’t let this happen again. We need to tighten our protocols.”

The group nodded in agreement, the playful banter giving way to a renewed sense of purpose. Bucky, despite his initial embarrassment, felt a surge of determination. He wouldn’t let Yn down again. He couldn’t.

Just then, the door opened slightly, and Jorah poked his head in. “Is it safe to come back now?”

The men laughed, the tension finally dissipating. “Yeah, Jorah , it’s safe,” Steve said with a grin. “But be careful. I think Yn’s glasses are still loaded.”

Jorah entered cautiously, looking around as if expecting an ambush. “Noted,” he said, a hint of a smile on his face.

As the group began discussing the necessary changes, Bucky couldn’t help but think of Yn’s parting words. Her disappointment had cut deep, but it also fueled his resolve. He would prove himself worthy of her trust and respect. And he would ensure that nothing like this ever happened again. As the group continued chatting, Bucky suddenly spoke up with an unexpected confession. “You know, I’m so turned on right now for her. I swear, when she takes off those damn glasses and looks at me with those brown eyes, I can’t think straight.”

The meeting ended on a more serious note, with each member committed to preventing such mistakes in the future. But the playful banter would return, as it always did, a testament to their bond and resilience.

#bucky barnes x you #mafia bucky #mafia #mafia bucky barnes fluff #bucky barnes mafia #mafia bucky barnes #james buchanan barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes x yn #bucky barnes fluff #bucky barnes fic

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midnight-glasses · 1 year

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Could you write headcanons about the intimacy and romantic gestures between Carla and Yui?

I believe I may have written something similar in a previous post, but I feel I can share a few more thoughts about these two. There are some ideas swirling in my mind that need to be expressed in some way, and I hope you'll enjoy It!

TRIGGERS:

Mild sexual innuendos;

Possessive behavior;

Too much cuteness;

Despite their differences and the challenges they face, Carla and Yui find solace and love in each other's arms. Yui's ability to see the good in Carla and her acceptance of all aspects of his personality allow their love grow.

Carla's romantic gestures are a mix of tenderness and dominance. He may surprise Yui with gentle kisses and caresses, expressing his desire for her. At the same time, he may also engage in more intense displays of passion, like biting her neck during moments of heightened intimacy, showing his dual nature.

On rare occasions, Carla takes Yui in his arms and they engage in a slow dance. The world fades away as they sway to an imaginary melody, temporarily lost at this moment. The dance serves as a moment of tenderness and vulnerability between them.

Yui discovers that Carla is surprisingly ticklish in certain spots. She playfully tickles him, causing him to squirm and laugh uncontrollably. It becomes a lighthearted game between them, where Yui tries to find new ticklish spots.

Carla leaves little love notes for Yui to discover, tucked away in unexpected places. They serve as reminders of his affection, whether hidden in her favorite book or slipped into her pocket.

Carla enjoys teasing Yui, bringing her to the edge of pleasure but denying her release. He relishes in her frustration, making her beg for his mercy before finally granting her satisfaction.

Both Carla and Yui share a love for literature and art. They spend hours discussing books, exchanging recommendations, and even delving into deep philosophical conversations. Carla appreciates Yui's intellect and sees her as an equal in intellectual pursuits.

Yui becomes a source of warmth and solace for Carla. While he initially sought her blood as a means of purification, he discovers the emotional healing power of her presence. Carla cherishes their intimate moments, often seeking comfort in her arms and holding her tightly, relishing the warmth she brings to his cold existence.

Despite his pride, Carla finds moments of vulnerability with Yui. He opens up about his past traumas and insecurities, sharing his fears and doubts with her. Yui's acceptance and understanding create a safe space for him to confront his inner demons and grow emotionally.

Carla's possessiveness evolves into a deep emotional bond with Yui. He becomes fiercely loyal and devoted to her, and he values their connection above all else. Carla sees Yui as the one person who truly understands and accepts him, making their relationship a source of strength and stability in his life.

Often, Carla takes Yui to secluded spots where they can enjoy the beauty of the night sky together. They lie in each other's arms, marveling at the stars and sharing whispered secrets under the moonlight. It becomes their special sanctuary, a place where they can escape from the world and be alone together.

Although Carla is not one to express his emotions through words, he surprises Yui with heartfelt love letters on special occasions. In his own eloquent and poetic style, he pours his feelings onto paper, expressing his love, admiration, and gratitude for having her by his side.

Sometimes, the most intimate moments between Carla and Yui are when they simply exist in each other's presence. They find solace in silent companionship, understanding that sometimes nothing needs to be said.

Furthermore, Carla and Yui develop a deep understanding of each other's needs and desires. They can communicate with a mere glance or a subtle touch, conveying their thoughts and emotions without uttering a single word.

Amidst his dominance, Carla also learns the art of gentle kisses. He savors the taste of Yui's lips, conveying his love and adoration through soft and tender kisses. These moments of vulnerability allow him to express his affection in a gentler manner.

Carla discovers the power of his touch to heal Yui's wounds, both physical and emotional. When she's hurt or distressed, he holds her gently, his fingertips tracing comforting patterns on her skin. His touch becomes a source of solace and a reminder that she is safe in his embrace.

When Carla is in his wolf form, Yui finds solace in snuggling against his warm, fur-covered body. She finds comfort in the steady rhythm of his breathing and the thud of his heartbeat, feeling safe and loved in his embrace.

Carla draws luxurious bubble baths for Yui, creating a serene atmosphere of relaxation and indulgence. They bathe together, the warm water soothing their bodies as they enjoy moments of intimacy and vulnerability, sharing whispered conversations in the fragrant steam.

Yui speaks words of affirmation to Carla, showering him with compliments and praise. She recognizes his strengths, both as a person and as a partner, and expresses her admiration openly. Her love language is verbal affirmation.

Carla demonstrates his love for Yui through acts of service. He takes care of practical matters, ensuring her comfort and well-being. From cooking her favorite meals to running errands, his love language is acts of service, showing Yui that he is there for her in practical ways.

Yui provides a listening ear for Carla, offering unwavering support and understanding. She listens attentively to his concerns, fears, and dreams, without judgment.

Carla's dominant nature sometimes clashes with Yui's boundaries. In these instances, they engage in negotiations, where Yui asserts herself and humorously challenges Carla's desires.

Although their relationship has progressed over time, old habits never change. Carla enjoys marking Yui's skin, leaving bites and hickeys.

However, he is not the type of man who likes to expose their intimacy to the public. He prefers to leave his signatures on less revealing areas of Yui's body, such as her belly, chest and back.

Carla's deep voice becomes even more commanding and seductive during their intimate moments. He leans in close to Yui's ear and whispers huskily, his words carrying a mix of dominance and desire. The vibrations of his voice against her skin send shivers down her spine.

He verbally asserts his control by issuing explicit commands that Yui must obey. Alternatively, he may simply talk dirty in a low, authoritative tone, with his voice reverberating through Yui's ears.

#diabolik lovers #midnightglasses #midnightglasses headcanons #headcacon #diabolik lovers headcanons #headcanons #diabolik lovers headcanon #headcanon #carla tsukinami headcanons #carla headcanons #tsukinami carla #diabolik lovers carla #carla tsukinami #tsukinami carla headcanons #tsukinami carla headcanon

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kadecinkwolf · 11 months

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She was an unparalleled person, a unique being in her essence and in her way of seeing the world. I couldn't deny that her presence illuminated my life in a special way.

Every time I opened my heart and shared my thoughts and dreams, she became my most faithful confidante. There was no judgment or criticism in her words, only understanding and sincere support. I deeply appreciated every conversation we had, as in them, I discovered an endless source of inspiration and wisdom.

It was astonishing how she was able to capture the essence of every situation and convey her perspective full of clarity and sensitivity. Her words were like a balm for my soul, they made me reflect and question my own beliefs. She taught me to see beyond the obvious, to seek beauty in every experience, and to value the lessons that life offers us.

With her, words came alive and silences became significant. No matter the topic of conversation, we always found fertile ground where our ideas flourished and intertwined harmoniously. Her active listening skills and empathy were clear evidence of her wonderful nature.

But it wasn't only her intellect that amazed me, but also her vibrant energy and genuine affection. Her way of lighting up every space with her smile and kindness was contagious and reminded me of the beauty of sharing special moments with someone as special as her.

It was in her presence where I found that spark that encouraged me to pursue my dreams with passion and confidence. Every time I felt discouraged, she reminded me of my inner strength and pushed me to overcome my own limitations. Her positive outlook and optimistic view of life filled me with renewed energy and helped me face challenges with courage.

I want to thank you, dear special person, for being so wonderful and for gifting me your company full of light and love. You are a unique being, with a special gift to illuminate the world and touch the hearts of those around you. Your existence is a reminder that beauty and greatness are found in each of us, and through you, I learn to appreciate how wonderful life can be.

Thank you for the conversations we share, in them, I find an endless source of inspiration and wisdom. I cannot express in words how grateful I am to have you in my life. You are a unique and valuable soul, and you deserve to see and acknowledge the wonder that you are.

I hope you read this, sincerely, your partner.

#lovers #partners #lover #love #escritos #escritos en español #relatos en español #relatos #escribir #escritura #Kadec Katzenbach #Katzenbach Kadec #pensamientos #artists on tumblr #writers on tumblr #my writing #writing #writerscommunity

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ariesjupiter · 3 years

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Mitski Birth Chart Reading

This is just my interpretation based on Mitski’s birth chart and what I know of her music. Let me know if you have any suggestions of someone I should make a post on next! If you’re interested, I offer natal chart readings, just check my pinned post!

Libra sun: In terms of basic personality and ego, Mitski is focused on creating balanced, harmonic relationships. Intimate, one-on-one relationships are a major part of her identity. Libra is ruled by venus which represents love and beauty. After all, she is known for her lyrics relating to her romantic relationships. The lyric “I love everybody because I love you” is so profoundly Libra to me. She is friendly and charming. She sees herself reflected and other people and people see themselves reflected in her (for better or worse). Venus also rules the arts and Mitski is a natural artist in every sense of the word. Her music sonically is very unique, inventive, and creative as she experiments with mixing different genres. This is influenced by her sun in the 11th house. Sun in the 11th house also indicates an emphasis on friendships and memberships of certain groups and communities. It also indicates an importance of her hopes and dreams. Her sun in 3° explains why she is such a talented writer, communicator, and lyricist. Peak libra sun culture: “Young adult romance is the shit” (a real quote from the queen herself). And let’s not forget her iconic quote from 2016: “I’m a libra so my sexuality is essentially “you can really be any gender as long as you treat me like a princes.” Truer words have never been spoken.

Capricorn moon: Despite how personal her music is, Mitski is a rather private and reserved person, particularly when it comes to expressing her emotions. Also, Capricorn is associated with the father and she has been known to be especially private regarding her dad’s career. She is serious and intense with emotions but can sometimes get detached. The emphasis is on having control over her feelings. She is ambitious and a practical person. Her emotions are connected to her career. Those who do not know her well may see her as cold. In temperament she tends to be melancholic. Emotionally mature and wise beyond her years. Straightforward and honest with her expression. She is dependable, loyal, hard working, & realistic. Emotional fulfillment is often tied to achievement and success. Her moon in the 2nd house and 2° suggests material comforts make her feel safe. With the 2nd house being associated with venus, she is able to express her emotions in an artistic way. Could be protective over material objects. Sentimental. Music has a big impact on her emotions and mood. Peak capricorn moon culture: “I didn’t really feel anything. I’ve stopped feeling things for a long time” - Mitski, The Fader Interview, 2017. In all seriousness, I hope my capricorn moons are doing good.

Virgo mercury: Mitski is practical and detail oriented when it comes to communication and matters of learning. She takes the time to choose the right words to convey her thoughts. She is clear and concise. Mercury is in its sign of rulership here. Her mercury in the 10th house suggests that she will be known for her communication style. Has a lot of thoughts but is also organized. Analytical. Mitski likes making lists. Loves to give advice. Mercury is in 16° (cancer degree) and she has a soft spoken voice. Talks about the past and her roots (cancerian themes).

Virgo venus: In love, Mitski will assume a caretaking role and will gladly help her partner finish mundane tasks and chores. A devoted and faithful lover. Love is about the mundane and routine details of life. Love is about service. Acts of service tend to be virgo venus’ main love language. She wants to help improve her partner’s life. She is patient and observant. Values love that is simple and authentic. Appreciates a partner with whom she can have intellectual conversations. May have a tendency to be too critical on herself when it comes to love. Venus rules aesthetics & style and she tends to have a modest fashion sense. Mitski has voiced her interest in astrology and how she has asked people she’s interested for their birth times lmao. Her venus is in the 11th house, she treats a lover like she would treat a friend. In fact, romantic love probably equates to platonic love in her book. She has her venus in 24° which is a pisces degree, which explains this natural interest in astrology.

Gemini mars: Could be impatient because she moves quickly. Efficient. Has a lot of goals and likes to keep busy. She thrives when she talks to others and exchanged ideas. Likes to multitask. Very versatile. Probably has a flirty, bubbly energy when she’s attracted to someone. Attracted to intellect. Desire to see things from multiple perspectives. Gemini rules the hands so she’s skilled with playing instruments and writing. Likes to try new things. Witty and humorous. Could have nervous energy or fidget often.

Leo jupiter: The planet of luck and expansion in Leo is a big indicator of fame. Her jupiter is also in the 9th house and in 7°. Jupiter in the 9th indicates being born in a different country from where you reside now. Mitski is biracial and has lived in multiple countries growing up. She loves to learn, particularly about other cultures and ways of life. She is open minded, philosophical and values freedom and being independent. She attracts good fortune when she travels (touring!) and also when she focuses on partnerships/intimate relationships (7°). Combining this energy, Mitski attracts luck when she acts dramatically, demonstrates/teaches her knowledge, expresses herself artistically, shows her warm hearted and sometimes stubborn side, & takes chances, shows her bravery, and takes the lead. Be the Cowboy is big leo energy 🤠

Capricorn saturn: Mitski is responsible, practical, goal-oriented, and cautious. With saturn in the 3rd house, she probably had to grow up quickly and become mature at a young age. Capricorn saturn people tend to be very successful people. Strong willed. Tendency to be quiet and is a good listener. Could also be outspoken. With saturn in 18° (virgo degree), she’s very hard working but she may need to learn how to take a break and let herself rest and recharge.

Capricorn uranus: This placement also indicates that she goes after her goals and is efficient and practical in achieving them. Uranus being in the 2nd house shows that she could make money from being unique and groundbreaking. 2nd house also rules the voice! Her values are unique and she could be resistant to change them. Her self esteem could be in a constant state of flux and be tied to money. Her income could rapidly change, like maybe she did not get paid much but then suddenly she starts making a lot of money. Uranus is in 5° which is a fame degree. She’s famous for being authentically herself and very much an individual in the industry that can’t be compared.

Capricorn neptune: Capricorn neptunes are most likely realists. She is skilled at going after her dreams. Her dreams are practical and connected to themes of wealth, power, and control. Neptune in 3rd house shows a dreamy, poetic way of communicating. A very creative placement. Dreamy vibes. Could be elusive in communication, open for interpretation. Neptune is in 11° so this gives aquarian energy. Idealistic with friends and always searching for ways to achieve her dreams.

Scorpio pluto: Her power lies in her ability to analayze human interactions and be introspective with herself since it’s in the 1st house. She is very self aware. Mitski understands that life is about going through changes and she welcomes the ability to grow and rebuild. She has intense, deep emotions but has control over them and how she expresses them. Pluto in 16° adds a cancerian energy. Her strength lies in her ability to nurture and be empathetic.

Scorpio rising: First impressions of Mitski can be that she’s mysterious and secretive. A powerful and intimidating presence. This explains to me why she loves dressing in black. She probably has a strong dislike for anything superficial. She likes to get to know people on a deeper level and connect with them. She likes honesty and is probably very perceptive and intuitive. Privacy is so important to her! She has a lot of layers and wants people to unpack them, but it may take her a while to open up. She is powerful and has endurance. Her presence leaves an impact on people. Loyalty and intimacy is important. She’s not afraid to talk about taboo topics or scary, heavier emotions. Passionate and even a tendency to get fixed on or obsessed with something or someone. Her rising is in 15° (gemini degree) so she’s clever, curious, and thinks quickly. a little more flexible than a regular Scorpio rising would be.

Leo midheaven: People might see her as dramatic or arrogant. In the public eye, she was meant to be a performer. At her concerts she’s known for putting on a good show & includes interpretive dance and choreography. She becomes herself more when she’s on stage. The stage is where she shines. Has a lot of pride connected to her career. Reputation for creatively expressing herself and being brave and taking risks. Wants to be admired, especially regarding her career. Her purpose is to become a leader. Mc in 22° (capricorn degree) shows that she is a very hard worker when it comes to her career. She won’t let anyone stop her when it comes to achievement and success in her field. Another indicator of being at the top of her career and being publicly recognized for it!

TLDR: Mitski is a natural born singer, performer and artist. She is unique, talented, and an introspective writer. Being earth and water dominant, she balances practicality & stability with sentimentality & raw emotion. With all of her Capricorn placements, she is grounded and doesn’t let fame get to her head. Her chart ruler is Scorpio pluto in the 1st which means that major transformations will be a big theme in her life, especially regarding herself & her identity. She is always reflecting and looking at herself on a deep level.

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consumeconstantly · 4 years

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Speak My Name In Tongues

1| 2(you are here) | 3 | 4

Summary: Bruce Wayne is determined to get his daughter to safety and aid (read: take over for) the Parisian heroes in capturing their supervillains of over six years. Unfortunately, these two goals are in direct conflict. (all of biodad bruce things can be read as stand alones but I do post in chronological order)

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Let it be said that Bruce Wayne is a persistent man.

When he wants something, he does not stop on the first or second failed attempt. It doesn’t matter if the world believes something to be impossible. It doesn’t matter if he fails spectacularly to achieve his goal multiple times, in fashions that would likely result in any man of lesser wealth becoming the laughing stock of the global community for months. In order for him to cease his pursuit, he must come to the realization that whatever he’s pursuing is not worth the effort. This is a very rare occasion. Most times when Bruce comes to this conclusion, his decision can be traced back to the trauma of his parents death and the subsequent consequences of his vigilante life style (read: not pursuing Jason’s death, letting Barbara get shot.)

Thus, when Marinette turns down his offer of a safer life, he will not take her rejection at face value. A lesser man might. But Bruce is not any such thing.

Anything that Marinette is involved in-- and he finds that she does a lot-- all oh-so-coincidentally happen to be things that Wayne Enterprises invests in as well. He marks down each and every charity event and gala that she is scheduled to attend and makes an appearance there as well. When he finds that she supports all of her collége friends in their pursuits, he attends too.

Somehow, she manages to skillfully evade being drawn into any long conversation with him and always ensures that there’s a third person involved when he even says hello. If Bruce weren’t trying so hard to have a talk with her, he’d say that her ability to do so was really quite impressive and spoke to the reach of her network. But again, Bruce is trying to convince his daughter that he’s not safe in Paris by herself when the League most likely has a bounty on her head. If Talia finds out that he had a daughter not borne by her-- she’s certainly changed in recent years, becoming more volatile and much less like the woman he fell in love with all those years ago.

He half believes that with Marinette’s wit, intellect, and escape abilities, she may even be able to hold her own against the League. Unfortunate that the League has weapons training and she does not.

“Marinette,” Bruce approaches her at a Bourgeois evening party. She has friends in high places, that’s for certain. Chloe Bourgeois works at her company in the public relations department as does Adrien Agreste, which definitely turned a lot of heads in the fashion industry as nobody expected the boy to work for anybody but his father, nor did they expect him to stop his modelling career in the prime of his life. For modelling works, she turns to Juleka Couffaine and occasionally Olympic hopefuls Kagami Tsurugi, Alix Kubdel, Ondine and Kim Le Chien. Thanks to her connections to Rose Lavillant, she’s produced an entire line of scents that go with MDC’s evening wear. MDC is extensively covered by Aurore Boreale, one of the youngest talk show hosts in the industry, Alya Cesaire, a young journalist who’s won international acclaim with her writing, and Nadja Chamack, a Senior Executive producer of TVi. Though Bruce is rather impartial to the music industry, she’s well known for working with international singers Jagged Stone, Clara Nightingale, and Luka Couffaine as well as an up and coming EDM artist named Nino Lahiffe. In the film sector, she works closely with Tom Astruc and Graham Industries, with Adrien’s cousin, Felix.

As the saying goes, Who you know is everything.

Marinette smiles, teeth bared. Even the way she stands is sharp.

It’s difficult reconciling the girl in front of him with the pictures he saw while doing background checks on her, or even the girl he saw at the bar just three nights ago. At least, it’s difficult for Bruce to reconcile her when she’s around him; Marinette seems to be very much the same girl around her friends, which is almost just as frightening. When she’s with Adrien or Alya of Kagami, it’s as if her parent’s death didn’t even happen. All smiles and sunshine and good will. She still attends all of the charity events she signed up for, has increased the amount of hours she spends volunteering at homeless shelters and akuma shelters-- and Bruce has no clue in hell how Paris’ supervillain situation has gone unchecked for so long, but he already has several agents tracking down Hawkmoth and the Miraculous team to no avail-- and goes to work on a normal schedule. Since Tom and Sabine’s death, she’s taken no time off.

In the presence of Bruce Wayne, however, there’s a great shift in her demeanor. There is nothing warm about her, and despite the fact that Marinette is his daughter and that she’s more than a full foot shorter than him, he finds himself wary of her. That says something, considering the types of people he faces down as Batman near daily.

For the first time, she allows him to approach without dodging him.

“M. Wayne.” Marinette begins to meander to a less public place, all while maintaining a pretty media smile and waving to acquaintances as she passes them. The moment the door closes behind him, a flip is switched.

“Leave me alone,” she growls. “I don’t want or need your protection.”

“Your parents were murdered.”

“You don’t think I know that? I was the one who found their corpses.”

“They’ll come after you, next.” The League of Assassins never leaves their jobs half done. Marinette is more of an achilles heel than Tom and Sabine were-- despite not being in her life, he cares for her. He can’t deny that if she were murdered, he’d probably get caught up in a fit of rage. The Lazarus Pits have not been good for his mental state over the years.

Marinette crosses her arms, sleeves fluttering around her. “You think you know who did it.”

“I don’t think I know; I’m sure who did it.”

“No,” Marinette says in a strangely detached tone. “You think you know who did it. You don’t actually know, do you, Dark Knight?”

Bruce’s stomach fills with dread. Something about her statement makes him feel nauseous. Queasy, even. “I do. The League of Assassins--”

“You think everything revolves around you, don’t you? Bruce Wayne and Batman are not the only ones with enemies.”

“You’re suggesting that you have enemies who would be willing to kill your parents?” Bruce isn’t sure how to take this. Marinette does have a fairly large following, runs in the most powerful and influential Parisian circles, and has money to spare. But as far as his research told him, she didn’t do anything to egregiously offend anybody, besides maybe one Lila Rossi and Chloe Bourgeois, though the latter of the two rectified their relationship eventually.

“I don’t,” Marinette denies. “But Ladybug does.”

“The superhero.” Is his age finally catching up to him?

“The superhero,” Marinette agrees, looking at Bruce contemplatively.

“Ladybug and I-- we’re close,” Marinette settles on. “Close enough for our bakery to become a safe house of sorts for the Miraculous team. Hawkmoth--no, Pavona. She either acted out of anger for her past with me or just wanted to strike a blow at the Miraculous team.”

Bruce feels a migraine coming on. It’s on days like this when he wishes he were a drinking sort of man. “Why would Pavona be upset with you?”

Marinette laughs, humorlessly. “World’s greatest detective, huh? Maybe you’ll figure it out eventually.”

He gets the feeling that their conversation is quickly coming to a close, and figures that whatever issue Marinette and Pavona have is something he can decipher later, “It doesn’t seem like Pavona has done much with this information. The Miraculous Team seems to be in high spirits, and there haven’t been any akumatizations in the past two weeks.”

Another dry laugh. “Wrong move at the wrong time. And besides Ladybug and you, nobody else knows.”

Marinette pushes past him, back to the door, back to the party. She pauses at the door. “I’ll put the two of you in contact. Until then, keep a lid on you and your operative’s emotions. I’m sure trained agents like yourselves can restrain yourself from feeling anger or sorrow for a while.”

Bruce is left with two horrifying realizations: Marinette is in a situation where she’s in over her head, and Sabine and Tom’s deaths have not been publicized.

Batman and Bruce have never liked magic or metas, and Ladybug seems to be both. It doesn’t help that she’s so high strung and seems to be inexplicably angry at him from the moment that he steps foot at their prearranged meetup.

“I sent you the ground rules if you want to operate in Paris. Forward it to your operatives. Follow the rules or leave.”

“I’m here to take down Hawkmoth,” Batman says with a bone-weary tiredness.

Ladybug crosses her arms in a fashion that’s achingly familiar. “I know that. That’s why I’m giving you and your people the ground rules and a chance. Otherwise, you wouldn’t be allowed here.”

“Ladybug, you and your team have failed to catch Hawkmoth for six years now.”

“You and your team have been fighting the same set of villains for over thirty years. I wonder which one of us is really worse off.”

Batman grimaces.

The heroine looks out at the night sky and sighs. “Look, this is a very stressful situation. Pavona acted out in one of the worst ways possible, and even though she and Hawkmoth seem to be MIA, it’s still not ideal.”

He remembers that Marinette said Ladybug and her parents were close. Batman stumbles over his words. He’s never been the best at comforting people, and healthy coping mechanisms simply don’t run in the family. There’s definitely a reason why he and all of his children take to vigilantism so well. “Tom and Sabine-- they were great people.”

Ladybug stills.

Batman doesn’t know how old she is, or how old any of the Miraculous team is, besides from Chloe Bourgeois, who used to be Queen Bee. Something in the way her shoulders hunch, how her jaw trembles, and eyes water makes Batman feel like she’s just a child. But she can’t be. Not if she’s been protecting a city for six years. If he had to guess her age, he’d put her in her mid to late twenties, maybe even early thirties.

“They were the most loving people I’ve ever known,” Ladybug says. “It was a privilege to know them.”

He’s not sure who made the decision to not release Tom and Sabine’s death to the public, but Batman recognizes it as a tactical decision. It only took a short amount of time to hack into security cameras near Marinette’s residence and filter through the sighting of the Miraculous Team at Tom & Sabine’s Boulangerie, stopping to chat with Marinette or one of her parents, sometimes eating there, sometimes staying the night, using their living room as a gathering point. From there, it’s not difficult to realize that Marinette or Ladybug is keeping this information from the rest of their team in order to ensure that their civilian or superhero identities don’t get compromised by an akuma or a sentimonster.

In comparison to the Scarecrow, who makes his victims fight their worst fears, Batman can’t help but think that turning people into their insecurities and angers is worse. At least with Scarecrow, there’s a chance that people can win against whatever they’re fighting. Once a Parisian is turned into an akuma or sentimonster, they just have to hope that somebody else will come in and save the day. Victimhood with the cruelest twist, similar to when the Joker tried to make Dick into the Joker Jr.

“Pavona. What’s her deal with Marinette?”

Ladybug’s laugh is hollow and familiar. “Didn’t Marinette tell you to figure it out on your own?”

“I need to know,” Batman insists. “I want to protect her. I don’t want her to get hurt like that again.”

“You have noble intentions, Batman,” Ladybug says quietly. “A kind heart. But you are mistaken in thinking that Pavona can hurt Marinette anymore. Even if Pavona tries to, she won’t be able to. Tom and Sabine-- they were the weak link. Everyone else she loves is safe.”

Ladybug pauses, looks sideways at Batman, then stares out at the Parisian skyline again. “Everyone except for you. You’re not safe, here in Paris. You know that, don’t you?”

“She--” his mouth dries. There’s a lot of information to process, but he focuses on one thing. “She loves me?”

He doesn’t think he’s heard those words come out of any of his kid’s mouths. He knows that all of them do love each other in their own messed up ways and knows that his sons and daughters are more likely to show their affection in actions instead of words, but Marinette is a biological child that he’s never interacted with before this month. How can she love him when all he’s done is push her away?

“She loves you.” Ladybug closes her eyes. “But that makes her a fool. She’s clung to the hope that she’d get to know you for years. Look where that’s gotten her. She gets to meet you at the price of her parents' lives. So please, don’t mess this up. The best way to protect her is by making sure that you’re safe. Really, I’d want you to leave Paris and forget about her. She’ll be okay. We’ll keep her safe.”

Batman says nothing for a time. Ladybug is right in thinking that Marinette shouldn’t love him, but she’s not right in her belief that she can protect her. After all, Tom and Sabine are still dead. “But I can make sure no one hurts her. I may not be someone she interacts with normally, but I can’t see her die.”

Ladybug makes a keening sound in the back of her throat. “I know, Batman. We’re not as trained as you and your team. I know you want to keep her safe. That’s why I’m letting you and your team help us. Because we’re just not enough.”

“You’ve done a lot to keep this city safe.” He wants to be mad at her for involving a civilian family, but he can’t find it in him. She seems so young. Does she have parents? Do her parents know that she’s Ladybug?

“But not enough.” She wanders to the edge of the building, yoyo in hand. “When this is all over-- maybe the two of you can spend some time getting to know each other.”

Batman stares at the spotted heroine. “Maybe someday.”

“That’s not very convincing.” Ladybug turns so that he can’t see her face. “Be kind to her. She’s alone.”

“She has you. She has your team.” Neither Bruce nor Batman has been very good at comfort during a time of loss.

Ladybug fiddles with the chain around her neck. Two rings as a pendant. She clenches her fist around them and goes still for a moment. “We’re too similar to comfort each other. And we both agreed that telling the team… it would be disastrous. Tom and Sabine were parents to all of us. Pavona is scheduled to come back soon. If we tell them now, it might end in another mass akumatization. That’s something we have to avoid.”

Pavona is coming back? How did Ladybug even know that she left? How—

Batman stills. The muggy Parisian warmth is only alleviated by a brief breeze that makes Ladybug’s hair ties fly in the wind. Anger wells up in the back of his throat, and he feels the Lazarus in him spike, knows that behind the white film of his cowl, his eyes are turning green. “You know who Pavona is. Why hasn’t she been brought in yet? Why—”

Ladybug could have prevented Tom and Sabine’s death. She could have saved Marinette the loss of her parents.

Marinette could have retained her innocence. Been kept out of the world of superheroes and supervillains, been kept safely on the sidelines if only Ladybug weren’t so selfish, wasn’t so foolish to bring in a civilian family with no training and no background.

“Marinette and I have known for a long time,” Ladybug cuts him off, and he’s ready to put his hands to her throat, but no. Justice, not vengeance. He will make sure that Ladybug’s wrongdoings are brought to light. He will right her wrongs. “For four years, it was Hawkmoth and Mayura. Once Pavona showed up, we thought-- we thought that between her and Hawkmoth that she’d be the lesser of the two evils. We had no clue who Hawkmoth was, but we knew that they were working together. Pavona was left free to roam in hope that she’d lead us to Hawkmoth. That we could finally end the fight.”

Ladybug’s back straightens. She turns, and her eyes are all blue steel and pain. It’s then that Batman realizes that Ladybug truly did love Tom and Sabine with her whole heart.

“I see that I was wrong. Hawkmoth kills indiscriminately. But Pavona-- her grudges run deep. Mayura was the kindest of the three. The reason Pavona killed Tom and Sabine was petty.” Ladybug’s voice crumples, as do her legs. She hunches in on herself, hugging her knees. Batman watches on from a distance.

What was it she said? That she and Marinette were too similar to comfort each other? One day, Batman may find himself furious at Ladybug for making the decisions she did. But right now, all he sees is a child.

“I’m sure you’ve looked into Marinette’s past,” Ladybug starts.

Batman makes a noise of affirmation, but she clearly wasn’t looking for permission to go on. She was trying to collect herself in order to tell a story.

“There was a transfer all the way back in collège. She was very popular amongst her classmates. Beautiful, well connected, charismatic. There was no way people wouldn’t love her.”

Ladybug glances back at him. “Come, sit, Monsieur. I do not know you well, but I don’t bite.”

Bruce— Bruce does not want to sit with her. But Batman says that he has to hear her out. To give her a chance, at least. Batman has made mistakes over the course of his career as well, his actions and inactions affecting too many for him to keep track of. He would be a hypocrite if he didn’t let Ladybug speak, even if Sabine and Marinette are two people he never would have dreamed of involving. Still, he keeps one hand firmly on a batarang. The videos shows that not much damage can be done to the superheroes when they’re suited up, save for attacks with magic, but nothing is absolute. There’s always a way to bring an opponent down. “Is it that shocking of a story?”

“No. Not at all. If anything, it’s a typical story of teenage drama, except perhaps a bit more than that. But I need the reassurance that you won’t run off once I finish.” She lets the two rings go, gentle thud of the two rings pressing against each other and her collar bone. The rings seem familiar.

Batman sits, albeit warily and at least five feet away from his companion. Ladybug hasn’t proven untrustworthy so far, but she is still part meta and a magic user, from what he’s gathered. He wouldn’t put it past her or one of her team, particularly the one who creates illusions, to do something. He just doesn’t know what.

“This beautiful, charming classmate easily swayed Marinette’s class to her side.” Ladybug peeks at Batman through her bangs. “Understand that the classmates are children. Children in a class where power means that trouble and responsibility never stick. They learned that taking action meant you would be blamed.”

Batman wonders how Marinette and Ladybug met. Maybe it was through this very class she’s talking about now. If that’s true, it does not bode well for his perception of her.

“Marinette recognized this classmate for what she was. A liar. She promised all sorts of beautiful things-- things that played to their classmate’s biggest dreams. Working with their favorite artist. Meeting olympic athletes and musicians. Trips to impossible places. Perhaps if Marinette wans’t who she was, she would have believed her, too. But this classmate lied about two things Marinette knew were false. She lied about being a hero. She lied about me.”

“How do you and Marinette know each other?” It was incredibly difficult to find the video evidence of the Miraculous team going to Tom & Sabine’s Boulangerie. Batman had to call in a favor from Zatara and avoiding her questions as to why— he’d much preferred it if he were able to go through any normal channel instead.

“We’ve known each other since the beginning.” Ladybug fiddles with her yoyo, refusing to look him in the eyes. “Marinette tried to get her friends to realize the truth. But everybody wanted what she was saying to be real. It’s hard to say otherwise when everything they ever wanted could be found in a single person. And Marinette didn’t pick the smartest ways to try to reveal her lies.

“That beautiful, charming classmate didn’t like Marinette trying to debunk her entire persona. She grew to be very cunning. She hurt Marinette in so many ways. I lost track over how many times Marinette got suspended or temporarily expelled, only for her to be brought back at the behest of the one other person in her class who knew the truth. Her designs were stolen. The boy she loved grew into a shell in order to protect himself. Her friends drifted away-- not that they were cruel or anything, they were taught inaction above all else, to not say a word about whatever happened in class ever since ecole-- but Marinette was really lonely.

“It was sort of a blessing in disguise. During this time, a lot of the Miraculous Team went on a break of sorts, and it was only Chat Noir and I. We had to get stronger and smarter and Marinette and her family provided relief and moral support. If her friends were close to her during that time, things may have ended really badly. Hawkmoth may have caught on to more secret identities than he already knew.”

“Does Marinette know who you and Chat Noir are underneath the mask?” To put the weight of their alter egos on a civilian is cruel. It’s why his own was so closely guarded. He’s not a fan of Marinette knowing his existence as Bruce, let alone Ladybug.

“The more people who know our identities, the greater a chance Hawkmoth has at taking our Miraculous.”

A non answer. Clever wording on Ladybug’s part. Although he can imagine Sabine agreeing to put up a bunch of teenage superheroes in her bakery, he knows that it’s impossible for anything to escape from her eyes for very long. He’d bet anything that she figured out the majority of the team’s identities. And by extension, anything that Sabien finds out, Marinette is bound to find out as well; her past indicates that she has an equal, if not higher level of intelligence and creativity that Sabine had.

Had. They went for so long without patching anything up. Why was he so foolish? So Hard headed? She offered him so many chances to reconnect, to connect with Marinette, to be a second father to her. She didn’t have any romantic feelings for him left, that much he knew, what with how utterly in love she was with Tom, and he was happy for her. Happy that she found somebody more stable than him.

If he and Sabine were closer, could he have prevented their deaths? Would he have been clued into the situation of a magic supervillain in Paris sooner?

He can’t be mad at Ladybug. Not when Batman, a hero with decades of experience on her, failed to step in. Refused to look old problems in the eye. Let loved ones die for his own inability to communicate.

“For a while, Marinette didn’t fight back. She didn’t want the boy she loved, her best friend, to get in any more trouble than he already was, trying to protect her. She laid low. But the classmate was very interested in this boy as well. The classmate tried to break him to get him to love her.”

Ladybug smiles wryly. “You can imagine that was the end of her rope. Marinette thought that the only person the liar was targeting was herself. After three years of bearing the weight, she finally snapped. She started using the resources she had. And the wasn’t any grandiose thing, though in retrospect, perhaps it should have been. She wouldn’t have ended up in prison, no she’s too young, and one of the two main victims was under lock and key, and Marinette was never hurt to the point where the liar would face real consequences for her actions. All that happened was a restraining order and her removal from Marinette’s school.”

“The girl’s name is Lila Rossi. She was already a suspect for working with Hawkmoth at the time by helping him turn people into akumas. Then Mayura stopped showing up and Pavona took her place. Pavona was clearly targeting everything and anything near Marinette. I should have seen the signs, but I had years of experience on her, and the Miraculous Cure--” Ladybug breaks off. “From one point of view, even Hawkmoth is better than her, because at least he didn’t cause any irreversible deaths.”

The Miraculous Cure is cruel. It only reverses the damage done with a Miraculous or while Ladybug is transformed. When Tom and Sabine were murdered, Pavona and the Peacock Miraculous were nowhere in sight.

Batman can’t say whether Pavona is better or worse than Hawkmoth. But Lila Rossi-- he recognizes the name. He knows what she looks like, since her image came up when he was doing a background check on Marinette. It’s quite possible that she has some type of mental disorder. Now is not the time to think about that. Hawkmoth’s identity needs to be revealed, and quickly. “How did you connect the two with the magic protecting your identities?”

“I used a little magic of my own.”

Beneath them, more and more lights begin to flicker out. Even though Paris is nicknamed the City of Lights, due to the extensive drain on energy, shops are required to turn off their exterior lighting after 1AM.

“Please,” Ladybug says. “Please help me find Hawkmoth. Please help me put them in prison. I-- I’ve been fighting for so long, and it was a duty I didn’t even want for the longest time. I just want all of this to be over. I want to be able to scream and cry and mourn without Hawkmoth and Pavona trying to manipulate me. Please.”

Batman has never been one for physical affection, but he pats Ladybug awkwardly on her back. She launches herself into his arms, curling into him and sobs as he awkwardly rubs her back. He keeps his eyes trained at a distance, watching for any akumas or amoks.

“Please,” she warbles, eyes watery. “Be good to Marinette. Be a good father. Be someone for her to lean on.”

His muscles tighten. He’s never claimed to be a good father, let alone a good man. He tries to do right, but Marinette is different from all of the other kids he’s taken in over the years. She’s not from Gotham. She had parents who were kind and stable and normal. He doesn’t think he can be a good father to her.

Somehow, Ladybug guesses exactly what he’s thinking. “You just have to be yourself. It may be stupid and foolish, but she loves you. She really does.”

For a long time, the two of them stay on that roof, Ladybug buried in the crook of Batman’s arm.

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@biodad-bruce-month

Maribat tag list(to be added onto this pls send me an ask/dm): @our-precipreciousss @my-dear-friend-anxiety

Who Are You (and what will you become) tag list (to be added here just comment): @anjuschiffer @theunquiet-dead @certainmuffinbagelcalzone @cresentmo0n @allulily @myazael @zalladane @rebecarojas07 @keepingupwiththemalfoys @frieddonutsweets @all-mights-asscheeks @thornalchemist23 @trippingovermyfeet @jiso-lee @redscarlet95 @ira-sairain @screechingflapbiscuitpeach @ramos123 @cutechip

also if i missed you please just lmk in the appropriate place again! and is it a me thing or a tumblr thing that some of these tags just wont WORK AUGH. thank you all for the support on the fics i’ve posted so far! i’m quite bad at posting regularly because all sense of time has been stripped away

hahahaha consistent chapter length? what’s that? (jokes on you these aren’t chapters just loosely related chronologically told one shots. what even makes a cohesive story a story)

#bio!dad bruce wayne month 2020 #bio!dad bruce #marinette dupain cheng #bruce wayne #marinette is mdc #angst #hurt/comfort #bruce is an okay dad even when he doesn't know he's being a dad #miraculous ladybug #dcu #maribat

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necr0bvnny · 3 years

Text

Nuclear Fusion - Chapter 1

Pairing: Otto Octavius/Doctor Octopus x Original Female Character

Genres: Action, Romance, Friends to Lovers, Slow Burn, Mutual Pining, From Nobody to Nightmare, Mad Scientist(s)

Content/Warnings: Fluff, First Meetings

Summary:

Dr. Kali Kavanah, a timid woman with a genius intellect, works as the head biochemist at Oscorp Industries. Her sheltered life changes when Norman Osborn assigns her to create a special formula for him with the help of Dr. Otto Octavius. What follows is a rollercoaster of romance, betrayal, and their descent into villainy.

A/N: Hi there!! This series will basically be both a Doc Ock x OC fic and the origin story for my Spider-Man villain OC! I’ll be making art for some of the chapters (plus art for my Spider-verse in general) and adding content warnings to certain ones because I do plan for this story to get graphic at times. I hope you all enjoy!! 😊💚

Link to AO3 post

————

“Do I feel happy in life? Um.. Let’s see. Well, I do hope I’m finding happiness. For me, if I can realise certain things in my work, I come the closest to being happy and I can say that also about my life. It only happens in moments, sometimes when I'm working and I’ll be able to fulfill a project successfully and then I think I'm the happiest. While I find it very stimulating to keep studying and working, I'm not just generally happy. If I'm generally anything I'd say I’m generally miserable, hehe!”

The white mice stared up curiously at Kali as she spoke to them in a tranquil tone. Of course, they said nothing back. She liked to pretend that they did though.

“.... I don't know.” She sighed.

Kali tended to work with animals more than people now ever since being promoted to head scientist. This was both a blessing and a curse however. She loved the animals dearly and valued them as lab partners, but nothing could beat real human interaction. While she was forever grateful to be given her position after years of hard work, she wished her boss would be a little more kind. Just because she has the brain power to complete every project he throws at her doesn't mean she should be doing it all alone. But she guessed this was his way of keeping her on her toes.

She lifted one of the mice up to her shoulder and rewarded it with a small piece of an apple that she had been eating, then made sure to give the others in the glass terrarium a few slices to share as well. Nobody went hungry in Dr. Kavanah's lab.

With her test subjects fed, she picked up the cage and walked to return them with the other animals. Within a few minutes Kali was back at her lab.

Upon entering, she was surprised to see her boss standing in the middle of the room waiting for her to return. Norman Osborn, CEO of Oscorp. Wearing a dark green suit so clean that it looked as though it was bought that morning, he stood tall and proud while opening a briefcase up on one of the tables.

"Good news, Kali. I have a new project to keep you busy." He handed her a document which she immediately opened with glee and began speed-reading the first page.

"Thank you, sir! What did you have in mind?"

"I’ve just struck up a deal with a veterinary pharmaceutical company. I was hoping you can create a sort of.. animal steroid for me. All of the effects they want to see are written down for you to go over later.”

Kali closed the documents and sat them down on the closest work table, sensing that that wasn’t all Norman had to say. “Of course, sir. I’ll begin as soon as possible.”

“There is one more thing you must know about this project. The company has requested that we use some benign radioactive ingredients in the formula. Seeing as how your specialty is biochemistry, I’ve hired you a lab partner that can help you with the more sensitive materials you'll be handling."

Turning around to face the entrance, Norman then half-shouted, "Come on in."

Suddenly all of Kali's attention was on the new company entering the lab. In walked Dr. Otto Octavius, head scientist at the U.S Atomic Research Center. She felt her heart get caught in her throat as he came right up to her and offered his hand with a smile.

"Good evening, Dr. Kavanah. It's a pleasure to be working with you."

"Oh, it is an honor, Dr. Octavius! I've read nearly all of your articles and interviews."

"Please, we're going to be working together for quite a while. Just call me Otto."

"Yes, sir! I-I mean Otto.. " After realizing she was still shaking his hand, she awkwardly let go, earning a quiet chuckle from him.

"Well, now that I have you two geniuses together I should be off. Good luck." With that, Osborn was out the door before anyone could respond.

"Please, make yourself at home! The office and bathroom are that way," Kali pointed to the door and window at the far right of the laboratory.

"Ah, thank you, dear. I'll be back shortly."

Otto walked off into the office and shut the door behind him, though she couldn't see what he was doing as the window had it's blinds drawn.

Kali stood alone in the middle of the lab, still trying to process everything that was happening. She couldn't believe it. Otto Octavius himself was going to be working with her, her of all people! She had seen him in person before but only from afar at a science convention a few years ago. At that time he was first introducing the world to the concept of his masterpiece, the four-armed apparatus that he used for handling nuclear material. He had since finished it but she had only seen it in pictures. She wondered for a moment if he was going to be bringing it to her lab, and the excitement at the idea forced a little squeal out of her.

Soon enough Dr. Octavius finally exited the office holding a magazine and chuckling to himself. Once he was back in front of Kali, he showed the front cover of it to her to reveal an image of himself standing proudly in front of a mechanical arm displayed on the table behind him. Kali's cheeks burned with embarrassment.

"I see you weren't lying about being a fan. I'm guessing you may know me better as 'Doctor Octopus' as my coworkers have grown fond of calling me."

"No, sir. I believe name calling like that is a petty tactic used by the weak-minded to undermine those they don't understand."

Otto smiled wider at her words.

"Y'know, I've done my own fair share of reading about you as well. Your work is nothing short of brilliance."

Kali perked up a bit at his compliment, her cheeks burning for a different reason now. "Really?"

"Of course! I've been meaning to get in touch with you even before Osborn hired me. Seeing as how we have some free time at the moment, I'd like to get to know you better if that's alright? We are lab partners now after all."

He pulled up two chairs, sitting down in one and offering the other one to her. Kali sat down across from him with an awkward smile and thanked him.

"Um, well… I don't know what to say, hehe. I suppose you can ask me anything you're curious about!"

Kali couldn't remember the last time she had sat down with someone and talked back and forth for who knows how long, laughing and simply enjoying each other's presence. Otto asked her many questions about herself, though none too personal. Everything he wanted to know about her seemed to be trivial, things such as 'how do you like your tea?' and 'do you have any pets?'. Things Kali didn't think anyone would ever care to know about her. And yet here he was, wanting to know and seeming fully invested as she spoke about herself.

Hours passed and eventually Otto checked his watch, realizing that it was time to go home. Kali was genuinely surprised, as it only felt like minutes had gone by. As they said their goodbyes for the night, her world seemed to fade back to grey as he left the laboratory. But knowing she would see him again the next day brought a toothy smile back to her face. Moving into the office, she fell back onto the couch on the right side of the room and let out a joyous sigh. Rats may have been adorable companions, but they couldn't ask you how your day was or flash you a genuine, debonair smile like Otto could.

Her heart swelled within her chest as she spent the rest of the night thinking about her new friend.

#doctor octopus #doc ock #otto octavius #doctor octopus x oc #doc ock x oc #otto octavius x oc #original female character #spiderman #spider man #nuclear fusion #mamas babies #kali kavanah #my post #norman osborn #green goblin #spiderman oc #marvel original character

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missmollybloom · 3 years

Text

New Fic: Couples Retreat

Summary: Two months after the phonecall from Sherrinford and Sherlock Holmes can tell that things haven’t been the same between the detective and his pathologist. With Molly pulling away from him, will an undercover case at a couples’ retreat be enough for Sherlock to show his pathologist that things can go back to normal between them?

(And, as it’s a Sherlolly fic, do you really think “normal” will remain “normal” for long?)

A/N: So here I am with another WiP. I’m trying a few new things. In terms of plot, I’ve never written a case fic before - so wish me luck! In terms of process I’ve actually plotted the whole thing out so (hopefully!) I shouldn’t write myself into writer’s block and should hopefully update regularly. Here’s to good intentions. I hope you like it!

Also on Ao3 here.

Chapter 1

Sherlock Holmes didn’t like change. Of course, this fact shouldn’t have come as a surprise to anyone. He was, after all, a man who had lived in the same flat for the past ten years, worn the same make and style of Belstaff coat for just as long, and once mourned his favourite brand of ball-tip pen going out of business by sulking on the couch for two weeks.

But the change which Sherlock found hurtling towards him this time was no mere inconvenience like the pens, or couldn’t be handled by stocking up on a cupboard full of identical coats. This change had the power of turning his whole world upside down.

So shaken was Sherlock by the news that it took John only five minutes in his presence for him to declare the detective’s mood so “un-fucking-bearable,” that he was banned from visiting John’s flat until he “pulled his head out of his arse.” Both of these statements were said by his friend mere moments before slamming the door in the detective’s face.

Sherlock couldn’t help it. So blindsided was he by the change that was coming upon him that he had no means to process it outside of the piercing verbal barbs he had flung at his friend. Barbs that were not received well and would, in any other circumstances, have led to a black eye or two.

Sherlock got off lucky – nary a bruise from John shoving him out the door - and only because John knew the one fact that Sherlock was only just discovering: If Molly Hooper left London, Sherlock Holmes would be lost.

Even though Sherlock had no idea before that day that Molly was even contemplating such a thing, there were hints that he missed.

Although he and Molly had been able to continue working together after the awkwardness of explaining that phone call to her, things in the past few months were decidedly different from before.

Molly, for her part, took his explanation well, understanding the situation Eurus had put him in. Nevertheless, there had certainly been a reserve in their exchanges ever since. Sure, she’d do the autopsies he requested, and would work late to run extra tests, but it was all delivered with the cool detachment of a colleague, none of the warmth he’d come to expect, value, even enjoy from Molly.

Even their companionship, the comfortable silence spent working side-by-side in the lab had evaporated over the last few months.

Earlier that morning, the morning Sherlock’s world fell off its axis, he strode into an empty lab that he could tell she’d only just vacated. At the time, it didn’t even cross his mind that she was making every effort to limit her time with him.

But now, as he lay on the couch in Baker street, reflecting on the day that was, he realised that she most certainly was.

---

Earlier that day, Molly heard Sherlock’s familiar voice echoing down the hallway outside her lab. On the phone to John, she guessed. She didn’t bother packing up before leaving through the side door, escaping before he could find her in the lab. She needed some air, needed some space, needed anything other than Sherlock Holmes, and Beppe’s café just down the road from Barts would do the trick.

Making herself scarce whenever Sherlock came around was a habit she had formed ever since the phone call from Sherrinford a few months ago. Of course she couldn’t keep working at Bart’s and never see him, it was, as Mycroft Holmes had called it all those years ago, Sherlock’s “home from home”.

Molly decided that she’d do what he needed for his cases but nothing extra.

No late night phone calls where he used her as a sounding board.

No walks through London like they had spent in the long nights of his recovery after the Culverton Smith case.

Certainly no invitations to eat takeaway in her flat.

Not that he had tried to resume any of their friendship rituals since that day, either.

What the detective didn’t see, or couldn’t perceive in all his intellect was that Molly was a woman in pain. Not for any lack of the detective’s observational prowess; rather, Molly didn’t trust herself to give him the opportunity to see her, had built a wall around herself so thick and although the cement hadn’t yet hardened into toughened concrete as yet, she knew well enough that time spent in Sherlock’s presence would only weaken the foundations, causing the wall to crumble and herself to be revealed.

That phone call had for a moment fulfilled every hope she had ever held for their relationship, only to have said hopes dashed with the sudden silence of the suspended phone line. Even if she kept a kindling of the flames alive for a few hours afterwards, his explanation was a deluge of rain, making it impossible to stoke the embers of her hope back to life again.

It was early morning the next day after the phone call when he arrived. He looked like shit and this was in the opinion of someone who had seen him after faking his death, had seen him hanging over a toilet bowl vomiting bile because his detoxing body couldn’t handle any food, had seen him at his lowest.

But his sunken eyes had seen ghosts that day. He’d also, she’d soon learn, seen her on a screen with a countdown timer that – with four men already dead at Eurus’ hands – gave Sherlock no reason not to believe counted the seconds ticking away in the final minutes of Molly’s life.

“I had no other choice, I hope you’ll understand and one day, even forgive me.” He had asked.

“There is nothing to forgive.” She had lied.

The phone call was an experiment, just as he had said. Just not his.

And the words, said twice and so convincingly, were mere lies to save her life.

How could she ever be so daft as to believe them to be true?

She needed time and space to rebuild from the ashes – which was becoming increasingly difficult with the frequency with which Sherlock had been visiting Barts in the last week.

But Molly Hooper had another plan. There was another way she could maintain her space and heal her heart.

---

Sherlock lay across the lounge at Baker Street. His hands were steepled under his chin as he replayed the events of the day again, scouring them for any hints at what was to come.

Sherlock was about to follow Molly out to her favourite lunch place when his phone rang. Normally, he’d ignore a call from his mother, but with the wounds wrought by Eurus’ reappearance from the dead still raw, he had softened of late in his treatment of his parents.

The recovered memories from his childhood now revealed why his parents had always fretted over him so much.

“Morning mother,” he began.

“Oh Sherlock, I’m so glad you answered. Are you well?”

“Yep,” he said, popping the P. “Is that why you called? Checking in on my health? Because it’s easier to text.”

“No dear, it’s Cheryl Williamson – do you remember her, from my square dancing troupe?”

“Yes,” he lied, without any attempt to sound convincing.

His mother continued, “Well it’s her son, James. Well actually it’s his wife Melanie. You see, she’s missing and I was hoping-“

“Solved it.” He cut her off. “She left him.”

“No! That’s just the thing!” His mother persisted, “They’d just been to a couples’ retreat.”

Sherlock rolled his eyes. So far, so boring.

“Can you please look into it for me?”

He didn’t have the heart to say no. But he also knew how little attention he could give such a case and still count it as keeping his promise to his mother. Five minutes on the internet should do the trick.

“Of course I will.”

Sherlock hung up before his mother finished showering him with effusive praise.

He needed a computer, and he knew just where to find one.

Having succeeded in avoiding Sherlock earlier, Molly was shocked to find him in her office sat at her computer when she returned to Bart’s.

“Sorry. I had a case,” was his greeting.

“Won’t be long,” he added, all without looking up from the screen.

“Oh, that’s ok, I’ll just-“ Molly placed down her take-away bag from Beppe’s café on the desk and turned to leave.

“You can stay.” He said, gesturing to the visitor’s chair. “It is your office after all.”

As much as she wanted to leave, there was a not insignificant part of her that missed the companionship they used to share as they worked together in the lab. She opened the take-away tiramisu cake and started eating it.

“MrsDawson1976 isn’t a very strong password, Molly”.

“I’ll be sure to change it.”

“I would have pegged you for a Pacey fan, anyway.”

“I would have assumed you would have deleted all knowledge of American teen dramas from the 1990s.”

She should have left it at that, but it was Sherlock and he was on a case, so curiosity got the better of her.

“What’s the case?” she couldn’t help asking.

“Missing woman. Wife of a son of a friend of my mum’s.”

“What a good boy you are,” Molly teased with a wry smile. “Any leads?”

“Not a one,” Sherlock said, frowning, eyes scouring the screen for more clues. “It seems that she left early from a couples retreat four weeks ago and vanished, leaving no trace.”

This was where she would usually chime in. This was where she would have joined him on his side of the desk, standing so close that she could see the stubble forming on his chin, nose filled with the scent of him, a scent she craved and had to admit she had been missing.

But she didn’t join him.

Instead, she stood.

“Good luck with it,” Molly said, standing, punctuating her exit by throwing the empty cake container in the bin.

---

Sherlock watched her go. It was the longest time she’d voluntarily spent in his presence in months, and it had only been a few minutes.

He had seen in her a vacillation, a moment in which she may have come and helped him, but it evaporated in an instant, and Sherlock was left alone.

His searches for Melanie Williamson had yielded no clues. Her mobile phone was dead. Her accounts had not been accessed. Her car remained on the street where she’d parked it in front of her flat before taking the train to North Norfolk for the couples’ retreat.

The woman, it seemed, had evaporated.

Curious indeed.

Online avenues of inquiry all exhausted, Sherlock was about to turn off Molly’s computer when an email alert popped up. Normally, her inbox was full of messages from Mike Stamford, or questions from her various trainees, or subscriptions to online shopping sales from H+M or Topshop, her brands of choice.

He would have ignored all these. But not this one. This one he had to open based on the preview text alone.

From: [email protected]

Subject: Progress of your application

Dear Doctor Hooper, thank you for your interview on Zoom last week. We are in the final stages of reference checks and will inform you of our decision in the coming week.

Warmly,

Jane Harper

HR manager, Glasgow Royal Hospital.

Molly had applied for another job.

Molly had interviewed for another job.

Said job was in Glasgow.

This wouldn’t do. Sherlock strode out of Molly’s office and upstairs to the one man who could make sense of what was going on.

It turns out that Mike was in the middle of a call when Sherlock arrived, and from what Sherlock heard, it was the reference check that the email referred to.

“Hang up.” Sherlock declared.

“Sorry?” Mike said.

“Hang up!”

Sherlock didn’t wait, placing his fingers on the receiver cradle to cut off the call.

“What do you think you’re doing?” Mike asked, face reddening.

“What do you think you’re doing, Mike? Molly can’t leave Bart’s!”

“She can if she wants to, mate. Do you know how many headhunters have been after her in the past 10 years? She’s said no to every single one.”

“But what has changed?” He asked himself, rather than Mike.

---

Having reviewed all available data from the day, Sherlock stood from the lounge. Taking his violin out of its case, he plucked at the strings, hoping the familiarity of the instrument would give him peace, help him understand.

He didn’t know how long he had been playing, or precisely what he had been playing, but from the look on Mrs Hudson’s face, it had been a while, and not necessarily music that was soothing to the soul.

“I need to sleep Sherlock,” his landlady had pleaded. “I’ve got the ladies coming over to play bridge tomorrow.”

In the past he would have snapped at her. In the past he would have taken out his frustrations on the wall or on the mantlepiece.

Instead, he stood, grabbing his coat and leaving without a word.

He walked for hours through the streets of London. It was a habit he used to do alone, but during his detox and recovery, Molly had joined him.

Over the course of a few weeks he had shown her all the cases he could remember, those details he hadn’t deleted or outsourced to John’s blog to keep an historical record of.

As he walked tonight, he wasn’t recounting cases, he wasn’t even focusing on the case at hand – the disappearance of Melanie Williamson. All his attention, all his mental energy was spent unpacking the curious behaviour of his pathologist.

It was obvious that Eurus’ little game, her emotional vivisection, was not without its cost. He could see that now, so clearly. Molly had withdrawn from him, and rightly so. But, if he was honest, he had allowed her to.

It would only take one visit to her flat with chips, one phonecall to chat through his thinking in a case, one day like the day they’d spent solving crimes together after his return from the dead and she would see what he already knew, that nothing needed to change, they could return to how things were before Eurus came and fucked everything up between them.

And that was the answer – a case – and one staring him in the face!

Two birds, one stone.

---

It was 5am when Molly awoke to a not unfamiliar sight of Sherlock Holmes stood over her bed.

“What is it?” she said, voice horse, eyes bleary.

“I need help with a case.”

Molly reached for her dressing gown, pulling it tightly around her as she sat up.

“Is there a body?” she asked.

“No.”

“Well, is there some test you need?”

“No.”

“Then what do you need?”

“You-“ a beat, the couplet had passed between them on a night completely different from this one.

Sensing the charged atmosphere in the air, Sherlock continued.

“Four weeks ago, Melanie and James Williamson attended a couples retreat in North Norfolk. Melanie left the retreat early and hasn’t been seen from since.”

“So what do you need?”

“I need you to go undercover with me at the retreat.”

“No.”

“No?”

“No – I’m sure you’ve heard the word before Sherlock.” Molly paced to the kitchen, putting on the kettle.

“I’m familiar with it, but I don’t understand,” he said as he followed her.

“I can’t drop everything and go chasing after white rabbits with you whenever you feel like it.”

Sherlock didn’t understand the reference.

“Alice in Wonderland, look it up sometime.”

Sherlock persisted in his questioning “Why not?”

“I’m not John. I’m not your partner. I’m your-“ Molly paused, stuck for words. “I don’t even know what I am Sherlock. But whatever it is it doesn’t entail being at your beck and call 24/7. I have my own life.”

She didn’t say it but he knew. Glasgow loomed unspoken between them.

He wanted her to stay in London, wanted to tell her how important she was to him, how he couldn’t do his job without her help. He wanted to say he was sorry that things got so fucked up by his sister. He wanted to commit to making things go back to just like they were before the phone call.

He was going to say it all, but the sound of a text alert from Greg sliced through the silence between them.

Sherlock read it, then showed Molly the screen.

James Williamson didn’t show up to work yesterday.

“Two people, Molly. I can’t go in there on my own.”

Everything he could see in Molly, the clench of her jaw, the intake of air sharply through her nose, the fingers balled into fists at her side told him she was about to say no.

Which was why Sherlock was so surprised when she agreed.

“Yes. I’ll go with you.” She said, “but I have some rules first.”

#sherlolly #sherlolly fic #missmollybloom writes sometimes

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sweet-evie · 3 years

Text

A Fantasy AU (Broken) WIP Written Months Ago Involving Marianne, Charles, & Child Lelouch -- Part of the Prologue

Marianne smirked at the thought of how unbecoming her idea of fun was. The other ladies of such an austere Court would have branded this inappropriate and ‘unlady-like’. Not that any one of them would have the guts to say that to her face. As Consort to one of the most powerful men in the world, she didn’t have the time to concern herself with the trivial and snooty opinions of the aristocrats.

Besides, there wasn’t anything wrong about personally supervising your son’s education on the way of the sword. She would have taken over his instruction herself. But alas, certain traditions had to be followed and respected -- even if she found them completely ridiculous.

Sighing wistfully, the Queen Consort carefully arranged the folds of her tailored gown, sitting in the shade of a canopy while one of her handmaidens stood behind. She kept a sharp ear on the clacking of clashing wood, her son’s grunts and impassioned yells, and the careful shuffling of feet on dirt.

“That’s it. Good. Don’t lunge yet. Step lighter.” Lord Andreas Darlton side-stepped a clumsy slash. The Prince yelped as he fell on his knees, wooden sword still tightly grasped in his hand as the shield tumbled to the dust. “Keep your shield up, Your Highness. You don’t-- Agh!”

Lord Darlton stumbled backwards, rubbing his eyes to rid them of sand. A handful thrown on his face by one determined and relentless child. Was the Prince this desperate for victory that he’d purposely discard fairness and honor? Marianne did her best to suppress a quiet laugh and an amused smile, watching her son as he moved on to snagging his chance. He whacked the Master of Arms on the elbows, the sides, and the knees.

“Your Highness, such unscrupulous tactics are below you.” Darlton coughed, gratefully accepting the damp towel one of the squires rushed to give him. He wiped his face and caught a glimpse of the Crown Prince’s chastised expression, wooden sword hidden behind his back as he hung his head. “A man fights with honor, extending respect even to his enemies--”

“I reckon that’s enough sword practice for today, Lord Darlton.” The Queen Consort of Britannia brushed invisible dust from her dress as she approached them and her distraught son.

“As you command, Your Majesty.”

Without words of protest, he acknowledged the Queen’s command once more with a respectful bow, extending the same gesture to the Crown Prince as well. Mother and son watched the lord leave with his squires and his aide-de camp, and Marianne waited until he was well out of earshot to address the young Prince, who in this stretch of time, gathered up his wooden weapons and put them away.

“Am I in trouble?” Lelouch asked, a tiny hint of meekness hidden in his voice, overshadowed by the obvious pride in his person.

Marianne raised an eyebrow. “No, of course not, my Prince. What compels you to think so?”

To his own credit, the boy did his best to suppress the surprise. He wasn’t going to be sentenced to stay in his room all day? “I cheated.”

A boy of eight. He still had so much to learn, but she was glad that he was on the right path. He thinks practically too, prioritizing self-preservation over tacky notions of ‘honor’ in a battlefield. Lelouch vi Britannia with his dust-stained face and grime-covered clothes. A ruler-in-training, she liked to call him in the privacy of her own mind.

“That wasn’t cheating, my love. You were smart.” Crouching just enough to be at his level, she brushed some dirt from his cheek -- leaving a streak of fair skin on-show. “I do not encourage you to train for ceremonial or traditional purposes. You’re fighting to survive and to protect yourself. You win, you live. You lose, you die. Life or death. You would rather live, wouldn’t you?”

The boy nodded, and Marianne flashed one of her charming smiles, ruffling the head of raven hair affectionately.

“Marianne.”

All turned to the stairs just in time to see His Majesty descend -- Bismarck Waldstein, an ever constant presence beside him. The Queen’s handmaidens, the passing servants, and the Crown Prince himself dropped into one knee in honor of the ruler who had recently taken control of the entire continent. Not a King. But, Emperor Charles. Lelouch mumbled this under his breath, wrapping his head around the fact that it was a title he would one day inherit.

“Oh hello darling.” Marianne crooned, disregarding formal Court etiquette. Emperor he may be, he was her husband first.

“A word.”

Two words coupled with a casual wave of the hand, dismissing those present in the vicinity. The servants scurried off to continue their tasks, the Queen’s handmaiden curtsied and made herself scarce. Lelouch looked at his mother with wide purple eyes, full of questions and unending curiosity. Still, she knew that whatever Charles was about to say was not meant for their son to hear. So she told him to go and find his sister and perhaps even a few of his cousins. She knew he wanted to stay, but her boy knew better than to ask questions he wouldn’t get answers to. Still a little miffed, he reluctantly received the casual pat on the shoulder from Charles zi Britannia himself, and accepted Bismarck Waldstein ushering him away from his mother’s and father’s rendezvous.

Marianne eyed her husband, took silent note of how broad his shoulders appeared underneath that tailored and regal suit. He was rather attractive, especially if he chose to do away with that atrocious powdered wig. How he could stand them, she would never understand.

She was still busy ogling him when his question cut through her almost inappropriate thoughts. “His studies and training are faring well, I presume?”

Oh, right… Their son. She nodded once to confirm and took his arm to lead him into the opposite direction. The training arena was built above one of the palace’s largest gardens. When she first came here, Marianne often wondered what the purpose was. Was there any political gain to be had for noble ladies to gawk at squires and knights sparring and training? Perhaps there was, now that she thought about it.

But this wasn’t why she opted to converse with her husband there. The orchard and the greenery offered lovely sights to stare at, and meant less hiding spots for any nosy eavesdroppers. Marianne held her skirts gingerly as they descended the steps.

“He can think on his feet. What he lacks in gifted swordsmanship, he makes up for with cunning.” Marianne smirked, nudging Charles’ side. “He is my son, after all, is he not?”

Charles allowed the tiniest quirk at the corner of his mouth as he grunted his agreement. “For his scholarly education?”

“Top marks from his tutors, as expected.” Marianne crooned as they entered the walkway between a row of flowerbeds. “But we both know you didn’t seek me out here, of all places, to talk about Lelouch’s brilliance.”

As she busied herself with admiring the loveliness of the flora and the fauna, she missed the ephemeral amusement in Charles’ face. Marianne always had confidence in her own intellect and potential, and it shone through in the simplest of interactions with her. He had married a captivating woman, and even his father had little to no objections about their marriage nine years ago.

Nevertheless, here and now, she was right. As much as he cared about his children’s education and upbringing, there were matters which he placed greater value on. The subject of the Sword of Akasha was one matter.

“I want to halt the progress of finding the lost key.”

The statement was followed by a cautious silence; one Marianne maintained whenever she processed thoughts -- turning ideas over and over again inside her head.

“What brought this on, Charles?”

“We don’t have the resources to spare when Française and the Prussian empire have come together to subdue Britannian influence.”

“So why stop the search for the key and the other artifacts?”]

------

This AU was one of my favorites. For some reason, the plot I constructed just refused to cooperate, and it all devolved into ONE HUGE MESS. Like it always does XD

#code geass #marianne lamperouge #charles zi britannia #fanfiction #alternate universe #lelouch vi britannia #fantasy au #wbad blog #wbad fanfiction #wip #i posted it here because i think it's genuinely good #if only the plot worked haha

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gallifreyinstituteforlearning · 2 months

Note

Hello!

My Gallifreyan is quite sadder than usual, and he's admitted that xe is very lonely. I'm guessing that this is because their friend had to go back to Gallifrey for reasons unknown to me, but she often disappears into xyr TARDIS for hours or even days at a time. Is this normal behavior for them? How should i go about introducing them to new friends?

-sincerely, a concerned human

How do you help a lonely Time Lord?

Greetings Concerned Human,

We don't know the background of this particular trauma, but it's quite normal for a Gallifreyan to experience periods of loneliness, especially when separated from close companions. Time Lords, despite their immense stoicness (that's a word), still experience the same range of emotions as humans do, including sadness and loneliness. The departure of a close friend can be a significant emotional blow, leaving your Gallifreyan feeling isolated.

🕰️ Is This Normal Behaviour?

Firstly, yes, it's normal for some Gallifreyans to disappear into their TARDIS for extended periods. Their TARDIS isn't just a vehicle; it gives them an emotional, psionic, and physical sanctuary and some isolation. Many Time Lords often need solitude, and their time alone is crucial for their well-being, especially when dealing with emotional turmoil or loneliness.

🌌 Addressing the Loneliness

However, loneliness is a serious issue, even for a Time Lord. They may have vast intellects and lifespans, but they still need companionship and connection. Here are a few steps you can take to help your Gallifreyan friend:

Understanding & Empathy: Show understanding and empathy. Let them know you're there for them and that you value their presence.

Shared Activities: Engage in activities that they enjoy or find intellectually stimulating. Whether it's discussing the universe, exploring new places, or playing an intellectually stimulating game, these shared experiences can strengthen your bond.

Introduce Like-Minded Individuals: Try introducing them to others who share their interests. This could be through academic circles, clubs, or groups dedicated to intellectual pursuits. Be patient, as Gallifreyans can be selective about their company.

Host Gatherings: Organise small gatherings where your Gallifreyan friend can meet new people in a comfortable setting. It's often easier to form connections in a relaxed, informal environment.

Leave Them Be: Sometimes, like a human, a Gallifreyan just wants to be alone, you should respect that too.

🛸 Building a Supportive Network

Many Gallifreyans have a complex relationship with their emotions, but with the right support, they can find joy and companionship even far from their home planet. Encourage them to reach out to other Time Lords if possible, as shared experiences and understanding can be incredibly comforting. However, also remember that human companionship can be equally as enriching.

🏫 So ...

Your concern and care for your Gallifreyan friend are evident, and that alone is a great foundation for helping them through this period of loneliness. Keep being a supportive and understanding friend, and they'll surely appreciate your efforts in making their time away from Gallifrey a bit less lonely.

How do I help a Gallifreyan who's homesick?: Steps you can take as a human to help a homesick Gallifreyan.

Factoid: What gift would suit my Gallifreyan and their biology?

Factoid: Why is my Gallifreyan a little bit giggly today?

Hope that helped! 😃

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lavendersage · 4 years

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Your blog is a great source of comfort for me. While I know that the workings behind it is just a kindhearted person selecting tender content in their free time, there's something almost fae about the calm it gives me.

I hope it's not the wrong choice, but for a while I've wanted to try something. I come to this blog everyday for some peace -- sometimes I don't even check the rest of my feed, I just come straight here. This year has been dreadfully taxing on everyone, and I'm one of those everybodies.

I hope it's okay, but for a while I've had this idea of writing my heartbreak down and dropping it here, almost like letting it go on a scrap of paper in a stream. I havent been to the woods in a while; I'm a teen in a city that's been beyond ravaged by covid.

But still, I found time for a little #longing. Let's call her Jay. She's smarter than a whip. Math prodigy, piano prodigy, in line to be valedictorian. I, one might say, am nöne of those things. Someday she'll have a PHD, and all I'll have is my ADHD. I'm the class clown, a freelance dunce, but due to some stroke of luck, the same perfectionism that drives Jay's brilliance doesnt allow her to relax easily. I can make her laugh. She values that in me. I found a currency for which I could pay for her time.

I've loved her for years, Lav. And what hurts more is that I know she loves me too. The kisses I've stolen light a fire in my stomach at the thought of them. The memory of closing the distance between us in the big guest room bed when I used to go to her house to sleep over is what's keeping me from going mad during this third round of total lockdown. When we are alone, she is mine, and I am whole. But like I said, if Jay is anything, she's a perfectionist. We were once scolded for being too "flirtatious" at a dance -- the only instance of discipline she's recieved all high school (meanwhile, I have a desk in the detention hall that literally has my name on it). She's desperately closeted, and terrified of losing her image. That's the thing about people who study until they sweat blood so that they never fail: the only thing they never learn is that failure isnt the end of the world the way us flunkies do.

I keep asking her to be mine, publically. Or, perhaps not fully publically, but at least socially. Our peers have more than caught on to what's going on between us and are overwhelmingly positive. And while we'd still have to hide from the adults, that would be accomplished whether we did it totally and miserably, or with room for partial sunshine. My heart and my honor cannot stand the sneaking, the slinking. I am not a secret to be kept. But Jay isnt ready, so I suppose I can learn to behave as if ashamed of my love for her sake.

I fold this message up, and drop it in your stream, Goddess of The Pure Calm. Grant me peace.

first, i just want to say that i can neither confirm nor deny that i am fae 🧚‍♀️ i am so glad that you visit my blog so often and that it grants you peace throughout the day. it always boggles my mind to hear things like that from you guys 🤧

and please, as always, take my words with a grain of salt--i’m not an advice blog (i’m not even sure if advice is what you’re looking for), but i will do the best i can 💚

my heart breaks for you, friend. my teenage years may be behind me but i still remember how hard it was to exist in that stage of life. it’s hard in a way that adulthood isn’t.

i was a lot like you. i was always “the funny one” and never really stuck out academically. i was friends with a lot of people whose intellect and ambition intimidated me to no end. to be in love with someone like that must feel like something else entirely.

that being said, i can feel how much you care for jay just in the way you talk about her. “i can make her laugh. she values that in me. i found a currency for which i could pay for her time.” this made me tear up a little, i won’t lie. and darling, i’m sure she values you for far more than your ability to make her laugh. but i get it--people like us use humor for a lot of things, maybe to make up for something we think we lack, or as a way to get other people to see us as worth keeping around. i assure you, love, you’re worth keeping around if you’re the funniest person alive and you’re worth keeping around if you never utter another joke again. your presence in your friends’ lives is valuable. your presence to miss jay is valuable. your presence on earth is valuable.

it must be incredibly hard to be in love with someone who reciprocates your feelings, but be unable to move forward with your relationship. you don’t want to be a secret, you don’t want to sneak around. of course you don’t, love. i’m so sorry that you have to wrestle with those feelings.

however...i’ve also been in jay’s place. back then, i wasn’t necessarily concerned about my image, or my reputation, but before i was out, i was terrified of what my family and friends would think of me if they knew the truth about who i was. i lost my chance to be with someone i really cared about because i was too afraid to go public, and they weren’t willing to wait. i simply wasn’t ready.

i of course don’t know her personally, but it sounds to me like jay isn’t ready, either. it’s great that your peers are positive about your potential relationship, but there are probably some of outside factors that are scaring her out of wanting to go public. it doesn’t mean she’s ashamed of her feelings. it doesn’t mean she’s ashamed of you. she simply isn’t ready. and for plenty of folks, it takes time to reach that point.

i can only speak from my own experience and what i’ve witness in my friends’ lives, but darling, once you’re out of high school and move into adulthood, so much changes. you get the freedom to more deeply explore who you are. i cannot even begin to stress how much change you will go through in your late teens and twenties. i don’t even recognize the person i was back then, and chances are both you and jay will have plenty of time to grow into the people you’re meant to be.

i don’t want to turn this into an “oh, it gets better when you’re older” type of response, because that’s redundant and it isn’t even always true, but there is a lot of value in the freedom that comes with leaving high school and getting out into the world. you will experience it. so will she. give it some time.

jay may decide that her feelings are more powerful than her fears, and she may need more time to reach a point where she’s comfortable sharing that part of herself with the world. i truly hope that she comes to that decision in her own time, at her own pace.

i also wish you well, friend. i will keep you in my thoughts as you wrestle with these feelings of longing and frustration, and i will keep jay in my thoughts as well. if your situation changes, feel free to let me know. my inbox is always open.

lots of love to you both, and stay safe 💚💚💚

#asks #long post #if any followers have kind things to say feel free to comment!

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inspired-by-the-music · 4 years

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For You: Stand By Me

Taglist: @jineunwootrash

If you would like to be added to the taglist of any of this blog’s works, please ask!

Recommended Reading: For You: 4 O’Clock; these works have separate, independent, but deeply interwoven timelines.

Chapter 2: The Boy with the Keychain

Lei’s POV

2009 was a good year for me. That was the year “Sorry, Sorry,” was released, sky-rocketing Super Junior to almost unprecedented success. That was the year I met Sehun, who (along with the members of Super Junior, Taeyeon, and Amber) is among the people I have known the longest. That was the year I celebrated my golden birthday— turning ten years old on April 10.

I don’t want you to think that Sehun was ever all I lived for, but you have to understand that his was my favorite face from those days. Back then, I hadn’t yet heard the whispers about the idol who never debuted. Maybe Mom and Super Junior were shielding my ears, or maybe the rumors just hadn’t resonated with me because I was too young to empathize. Back then, because I was not an idol or even a trainee, I had no image to protect.

Of course, I didn’t understand the value of freedom until it was limited once (often judgmental) eyes fixed on me, almost anticipating a mistake. As a child, my feelings were as simple as this: I liked Sehun, and I wanted to see him. Because I was not yet in the habit of denying my urges, I gawked after him. I would have followed him to the ends of the earth.

The really pitiful part is that I didn’t ever expect him to speak to me, look at me or acknowledge me in any way, so I never asserted my presence. Always carrying a book— either educational or fictional— I would only try to sit near him or steal occasional glances. I never spoke first or even listened closely when he spoke to Suho, Chanyeol, or any of the other trainees who were later grouped in EXO. Just seeing him or hearing his voice made me happy; I was content just to be near Sehun.

Years later, for some time, I would curse this period that I was too ashamed to remember. Once I had grown into a teenager who despised (feared) dating and boys and the fake flashes of romance that so many idols wasted their lives chasing, I hated that I had ever been a lovesick child— especially toward Sehun, who had always been too old and too aware of an idol’s limitations.

Now that enough time has passed, now that some wounds have healed, I believe that willingness to be even the most insignificant character in somebody’s life is the purest form of love. I want to fondly remember when I had been so willing, so innocent, but it’s difficult because I’m not the same person I was back then.

Isn’t it sad that everything changes? Even I, who I swore could never change, have grown past those days. I don’t especially want to go back— that kind of regret is useless because it makes people wish for the impossible ability to turn back time— but I would like to remember without bias. I would like to remember without knowing the end. I would like to tell you my memories as simply as they seemed at the time, but nothing is simple in hindsight.

Please understand that these are memories that, until quite recently, I tried to silence in my mind and heart. Please understand that I am trying to untangle them and restore them because the storm has passed, and I am ready to cherish them again. Please don’t laugh at me for never quite growing out of some childish habits. Please forgive me for failing to stay the child in this story forever; I didn’t mean to grow up.

Let me try to remember things one moment at a time. Maybe that will help.

I’ll start on my tenth birthday because that was supposed to be a golden day, and maybe it was. It started where every other day started: at the S.M. building. In the corner of the dance studio, I sat with Mom. Although I was supposed to be studying note cards of Korean vocabulary words while Mom finalized Super Junior’s schedule for the month, I kept stealing glances at Sehun as he, with Chanyeol, tried to learn a dance from Donghae and Eunhyuk.

When Donghae caught me watching, he kindly asked, “Do you want to join us, Lei?” As always, he was trying to include me in his world.

However, in that moment, I decided that I would have to learn to admire Sehun more discreetly; I hated the blush that scalded my face when everybody in the room turned to look at me. It didn’t matter that the room wasn’t full; four people staring at me was enough.

Of course, I wouldn’t learn instantly how to discreetly admire Sehun. I wonder how much embarrassment I could have saved myself had such a miracle been possible, but that kind of imagination is pointless.

Shaking my head at Donghae’s question, I found my red-faced reflection in the mirror lining the walls. Ten seems too young to feel insecure, I think, but I remember that when finding myself in the glass, I thought of all the beautiful people I watched walk through the agency. I looked nothing like those people.

Maybe because I was already confident in my intellect and my sense of morality, or maybe because I was only ten, my only dream at the time was to be beautiful too. As was my habit, I forced a smile just to see the small metal brackets glued onto my teeth to remind myself that I was making progress. The braces helped, I guess. They straightened my teeth and closed the gap I never liked until years later when I looked back on old photographs. My smile would always be too big for my face, though; I would never grow into it.

“Come on, Lei,” Eunhyuk insisted. He either never picked up my embarrassment or he never cared. I don’t mean that in a negative way; I always admired that Eunhyuk wasn’t limited by nerves, and I wanted to be like that too. “If you’re gonna be a superstar someday, you have to learn how to dance!”

Because he wasn’t dumb enough to overtly ridicule me in front of Mom, Donghae, and Eunhyuk, Chanyeol didn’t say anything. He couldn’t quite stifle his laugh, though. He was always laughing at me, and never in a way that made me want to laugh along— in a way that drained the color from my already pale face and intensified each beat of my heart until it was hard to breathe.

I have always been sensitive. Back then, I didn’t know how to hide my emotions, and I didn’t understand that Chanyeol was entitled to some degree of respect as my elder, so I gripped my notecards until they bent and grumbled, “Stop laughing at me.”

Chanyeol didn’t hear me over Sehun. Despite understanding that Chanyeol was his elder, Sehun furrowed his brow. “What’s so funny, Chanyeol?” It was one of those questions that really means ‘shut up,’ so Sehun didn’t even give Chanyeol a chance to respond before saying, “I don’t mind if Lei practices with us.”

Sehun's rush to my defense, as he often did, should have made me feel better, but his brief glance at me only deepened my blush. Wanting nothing less than to embarrass myself in front of Sehun— forgetting for a moment that I was already a decent dancer owing to Eunhyuk’s occasional instruction— I pleadingly looked to Mom to bail me out of an impromptu dance lesson.

Only having to scan my expression to feel my desperation, Mom said, “Lei is studying right now,” and they returned to their practice without another word as if theywere never distracted.

If I was ten, that means that Mom was almost thirty-one; our birthdays were exactly twenty years and ten months apart. I always thought that she was the prettiest person in the world, especially then, when her long black hair was tied up in a ponytail. Sweeping her bangs out of her eyes to study my reaction, she said quietly, “You don’t have to become an idol if you don’t want to.”

I remember gaping at her because that was the first time I realized that fame was an option. That was the moment I understood that Donghae and Eunhyuk, at least, imagined that I might follow in their footsteps. Feeling for the first time that they were invested in my future— feeling for the first time that I could fail to fulfill their hopes, I asked, “Do you want me to become an idol?”

Mom smiled and said something that I couldn’t understand: “You are already my idol.” She dropped her notebook to cup my cheeks, which were forever swollen, giving me the appearance of a child well into adulthood. “You have been my ultimate idol for ten years, Lei.”

“Ten years,” I repeated because it was impossible to fathom, “is my whole entire life!”

“Exactly,” Mom nodded.

In those ten years, all I had done after birth was follow people around. First I followed Mom because she was the first person I ever saw and trusted; and then I met Yesung and followed him because he was the bravest person I had ever known and I thought he could teach me to be strong; and then I met Taeyeon and followed her because she was the prettiest person I had ever seen and I thought she could teach me to be like the sun; and then I met Amber, and we talked so easily because we both knew English, and we were both American, and she looked different from everyone else too, and I followed her because I thought she could teach me to embrace my reflection; and then I met Sehun and followed him because he was the handsomest person in the world and I didn’t care what he taught me as long as I could be near him.

Now, I try not to criticize those days too harshly, because I believe they were the steps I took to find myself. After all, I was only a child trying to navigate the world. For a while, though, I faulted myself for trying to fill the voids in my character with people. For a while, I thought that was the worst thing to do— lean too heavily on others. For a while, I thought I had done the wrong thing by looking for them to teach me what I wanted to learn. I don’t know where I got those ideas; ultimately, I think they did more harm than good.

That was my first moment of deep confusion— the first hint of loneliness— when I was ten years old, and I couldn’t understand why my mother, who spent all her days around real idols, could look at me as if I had accomplished anything that compared to their achievements.

I sat there after Mom released her hold on my cheeks, after the dance practice had dissolved, and the only thought that made sense in my mind was, “If Sehun is going to be an idol, then I want to be one too.” That’s probably the most embarrassing thought I had in my entire life, but at least I had the sense to keep it to myself.

Standing to escort Donghae and Eunhyuk to their next schedule, she asked as if I were an adult who determined my own schedule, “Are you coming, Lei? You can help me with the photo shoot!”

To tell you the truth, I think I might have been better as a manager than I was as an idol. Like Mom, from a young age, my mind could identify most risks from a mile away. A part of me wanted to leap at the chance to help with another photo shoot, but I shook my head because I already made plans. I guess I was like an adult who determined my own schedule.

“I promised Taeyeon that I would meet her down the hall before Girls’ Generation’s dance practice. Apparently,” I smiled, “she wants to give me a birthday present!”

Despite Chanyeol’s efforts to pull him outside, Sehun remained in the doorway. “It’s your birthday?”

Before I could form a blushing response, Donghae dropped an arm over my shoulder and boasted, “Yep!”

Wiping at non-existent tears, Eunhyuk sniffled, “Our little baby princess is already a decade old!”

While Eunhyuk pinched at my cheeks and I rolled my eyes at the attention, Chanyeol huffed insincerely, “Happy birthday, princess. Now Sehun—” he looked at his friend with bulging eyes— “are we going to the arcade or what?”

“I thought we were going to celebrate my birthday,” Sehun responded. And when Chanyeol insisted that they were, Sehun continued, “then stop rushing me.” At that, as if Sehun held the authority in their friendship, Chanyeol fell silent.

Turning to me with the faintest of smiles, Sehun asked, “Since we would’ve been twins if you were born two days later, do you want to celebrate our birthdays together?”

I blinked, and Sehun asked more clearly, “Do you want to go to the arcade with us?”

Under his breath so that maybe only Sehun should have heard, Chanyeol said, “You can’t be twins with a little kid.”

‘I’m not that little!’ I wanted to argue, but maybe I was.

While Sehun was only five years older than me, and Chanyeol was only two years older than him, in the world of children and teenagers, I was as good as centuries younger. Since everyone I knew was older than me, I should have been used to this feeling, but I wasn’t. While I was always the youngest in every room, nobody liked to flaunt their seniority as much as Chanyeol. That’s why we never became friends.

The sense that I didn’t belong in an arcade with a couple of teenagers overwhelmed my childish desire to always be with Sehun. Still, I didn’t quite have the heart to directly answer ‘no,’ so, staring down at my sneakered feet, I replied, “I don’t think my Mom will allow me to go.”

“Come on, Manager,” Donghae gently pleaded as if Mom had actually told me no. “Sehun is a responsible kid, and—”

Glancing back at me, Mom said, “You can go if you want." Without waiting for my answer (not that I would have said anything anyway), she asked Chanyeol and Sehun, “Are you going to the arcade at the mall down the street?”

Spurred by Sehun’s nudging, Chanyeol begrudgingly replied, “Yes, ma’am.” He glared down at his watch. “Sehun and I were going to catch the 3:00 bus, but now I guess we’ll have to wait for the 3:15 or the 3:30.”

I might have been young, but I wasn’t oblivious to the fact that Chanyeol didn’t want me to tag along. Feeling very much like a burden to their plans, I didn’t want to accept the money Mom forced into my hand despite Sehun’s polite promises to pay for everything.

“I have to go.” She pressed a kiss to the top of my head. “Ride the bus back here, and I’ll find you by the vending machine as soon as I can, and we’ll have cake when we get home, okay? Have fun!”

When I stood, motionless, even after Mom left with Eunhyuk and Donghae, Sehun beckoned me into the hall. “Don’t look so anxious,” he said. He was always kind of bossy. “I’m not going to let you ride the bus alone, so—”

It was always impossible to tell that Sehun was smiling until he started glaring again and the faint upturn of his lips faded. He cut his eyes at Chanyeol. “Would you stop tapping your foot? I’m trying to talk.” Although Sehun’s temper was a bit short, he wasn’t one to raise his voice. Were it not for the arching of his eyebrows, his annoyance wouldn’t have been obvious.

On Chanyeol’s face, however, anyone could read every emotion that passed through his mind. “You’ve talked long enough, haven’t you?” He crossed his arms, muscles taut through the short-cropped sleeves of his shirt. “You talked us right into a non-paying babysitting job, and now we’re going to miss the bus again, and—”

“Go, then.” Sehun gestured lazily toward the door. “Weren’t you listening? Lei has to meet Taeyeon to get her birthday present, so we’ll meet you at the arcade. You’re getting on my nerves anyway.”

Too stubborn to get along with me long enough to appreciate the chance to meet Girls’ Generation, Chanyeol rolled his eyes and stormed out of the building without saying another word.

. . .

“Why aren’t you smiling?” Sehun asked after we boarded the bus and sat side by side. “Even when you opened Taeyeon’s gift, you didn’t smile.”

Staring down at the gift — a dark blue coin purse that mapped out silver constellations, filled with money from Taeyeon and Mom— I shrugged. “Why should I smile?” I grumbled dramatically, tucking the purse into my small bubble gum pink backpack. “I’m about to see Chanyeol, and he can’t stand me.”

“You should smile because it’s your birthday,” Sehun said.

I fixed my gaze out the window, admired the golden sun rays peeking through the clouds, and watched the blooming trees blurring together until Sehun snapped his fingers by my ears. “Hey. Look at me and listen when I talk to you.”

Once I obeyed, looking at him with eyes filled with childish tears, I hoped that his features would soften. He disappointed me, but no wound inflicted by Sehun was ever permanent. “Who cares if Chanyeol likes you?” His voice was as calm as ever.

“I care.” I sounded (and looked) more childish than ever as I pressed my lips in a pout and crossed my arms.

Sehun’s lips twisted in obvious disapproval. “Why?”

I struggled with an answer before admitting, “Everybody likes me. Everybody except Chanyeol.”

Being much stronger and smarter than me in many ways, Sehun sighed, “Chanyeol doesn’t have any reason to dislike you. You haven’t done anything to him, so whatever his problem is— it’s just that— his problem. You’re getting older, so you have to learn one way or another that some people are gonna dislike you, sometimes for no reason. And you can’t shed tears for everyone. You can save yourself a lot of pain if you just believe me on that.”

Sehun never sugar-coated anything and, weirdly, I think that’s why I liked him. After years of being (lovingly) smothered by Super Junior, it was a relief that he never hugged me until my tears stopped like Donghae would have or screamed and threw something (probably punches) at Chanyeol like Yesung would have. I never dreamed that I would eventually crave that kind of emotional response from Sehun.

Following him off the bus, almost running so that I wouldn’t fall too far behind— always chasing after him— I hummed, “You are very wise.” His laughter filled the spring air, and I had to smile even as I wondered, “What’s so funny?”

“It’s just—” he held the mall door open for me— “nobody has ever called me wise before.”

We walked in silence that he eventually broke. “Would you still think that I’m wise if you knew that everything I just told you was based on something Junmyeon said?”

“Junmyeon?” I repeated the name before his face flooded my mind. “Oh, you mean the prince!” I nodded enthusiastically. “He’s very wise, and I think you get some points for remembering what he said well enough to repeat it.”

Sehun, as usual, didn’t appreciate my compliment. “‘The Prince?’” His eyes cut through me, and I gulped to prepare for a scolding. “I told you not to flirt with boys, didn’t I?”

Although it was a waste of breath, I defended myself. “First of all, I thought he looked like a prince before I ever met you and learned that I’m not allowed to think anything nice about any boy ever.” Sehun snorted, but he didn’t quite grin. “Plus, I’m not dumb enough to call him a prince to his face.”

Let the record read that I have only ever been open in my admiration toward one person, and I eventually learned to regret it.

“I’ll let it slide, “Sehun mercifully decided, “because it’s your birthday.” As we stood at the edge of the food court, he asked, “Are you hungry?”

I shook my head, and Sehun raised a skeptical eyebrow. “Are you lying because you don’t want me to spend my money on you?”

As a matter of fact, I was. I shook my head and bit my tongue to maintain the lie because I thought it was the proper thing to do.

“Lei,” Sehun clicked his tongue, “as your senior, I’m supposed to pay your way, so just—”

Outright, I lied, “I’m not hungry.” My stomach betrayed me by loudly growling.

As my face flushed and I tightened my grip around my backpack’s straps, Sehun eyed me suspiciously. “Fine, but you have to promise to tell me when you get hungry, okay?”

While I was mid-way through a nod Chanyeol cheered through a mouthful of blue cotton candy, “There you are! Hey, princess—” he glanced down at me— “do you like cotton candy?” Before I could respond that (obviously) I did, he chuckled, “Why am I even asking? Every kid loves sugar,” and he forced an unopened container of pink cotton candy into my hand.

That was the one kind thing Chanyeol ever did for me. When I opened my mouth to thank him with my embarrassing gappy smile, he looked over me. My stomach dropped with the realization that he hadn’t warmed up to me. My cheeks burned from some kind of humiliation; they always did around Chanyeol.

“Okay,” he told Sehun as if I were invisible, “I gave the kid her cotton candy like you asked. Can we go play that new street racer game now?”

Oh. Dropping a piece of the cherry-flavored cloud onto my tongue, I realized that Sehun must have texted Chanyeol while I was talking to Taeyeon or while we sat on the bus. The only reason why I didn’t notice was that I was always too busy admiring Sehun’s face.

To Chanyeol’s disappointment, Sehun shrugged. “I think Lei should choose what we do, you know, since it’s her birthday.”

I don’t know what Sehun expected me to say when Chanyeol looked at me like that— like he wanted to snatch my candy away to throw the hard plastic container at my head. Although I cast my eyes nowhere in particular, they fell on the Sanrio store, which was bright, colorful, and inviting from afar.

“I don’t mind what we do.” Smiling politely like Mom taught me, I promised Sehun, “I’ll be quiet and watch you play that racing game with Chanyeol.” The thing is, I would have been happy to do just that— that’s how much I liked Sehun.

The belief that I said the right thing abandoned me when Sehun bent to level his face with mine. He shook his head. “Don’t be a pushover, Lei. Don’t let people like Chanyeol—”

“Hey!” Chanyeol yelled. “What is that supposed to mean?”

Sehun didn’t break his attention from me to answer him. “Don’t let people like Chanyeol tell you what to do.”

“Sehun, don’t brainwash that little kid into being as rude, selfish, and disrespectful as you.”

The days of following Yesung had instilled in me a determination to defend those I loved (and that included Sehun), but I didn’t know how to raise my voice without sounding like a toddler throwing a tantrum. Had I trusted myself to speak, I would have screamed at Chanyeol loudly enough for everyone in the mall to hear. As it was, I could only cut my eyes at him.

Catching my glare at his insults, Chanyeol groaned, “Great! Now you have her scowling at me like some kid from a horror movie!” Matching my temper, Chanyeol scowled and thrust an antagonistic finger at me. “Don’t look at people like that! It’s freaky!”

“Hey.” Sehun grabbed my shoulders. His touch forced me to meet his dark eyes. They weren’t as intimidating as you might imagine, but I almost wanted to look away because of the blushing butterflies that fluttered through my entire body. I could never look away, though— not for long anyway. “What do you want to do?”

I didn’t know. First, Chanyeol made me too angry to think clearly. Then, Sehun stole my breath away, so I couldn’t have spoken even if I had known what to say.

Retracing where my gaze had wandered before— to the Sanrio store— Sehun asked, “Do you want to go there? You like Hello Kitty, right?” When I started to answer, he warned, “Don’t lie to me. She’s all over your backpack, so I know you like her.”t

Reddening because I had been planning to lie in a futile effort to discourage Chanyeol’s pointed stare, I mumbled, “Why do you ask questions that you know the answers to?”

Once Sehun stood upright, he towered over me. “I don’t know.” He started walking toward the Sanrio store, and (of course) I followed without hesitation.

Chanyeol refused to follow, though. Glued to his place by the food court, he bellowed, “Waste your day in a little girl store if you want, but I’m not! I’m going home!” I watched Chanyeol, perhaps outraged by Sehun’s indifference, storm away as he had at the S.M. building.

I asked Sehun, “Do you really think Chanyeol is going home?” Minutes had passed, and I was unable to admire the adorable objects lining the shelves because of the guilty writhing in my gut.

It didn’t matter that I didn’t like Chanyeol— I felt bad for ruining his day. What if he had been looking forward to playing that racing game all week? What if he hated me forever for disrupting his weekend plans? No matter what Sehun said, I wanted to be the kind of person everybody— even Chanyeol— liked. I didn’t want to believe that was such an impossible goal.

Sehun breathed, “I don’t know or care.”

Although I admired everything about Sehun, including his ability to always feel (or at least seem) calm, cool, and collected, I didn’t quite want to seem that indifferent. Couldn’t I be strong— resistant to the wind— and kind— bright like the sun? I didn’t know.

I was too young to understand that Sehun, despite seeming cold, was the kind of person I wanted to be: kind and strong. The difference between us has always been that Sehun never cared who misunderstood him. Sehun never cared who liked him. Over time, with age and experience, I would outgrow my craving for approval and admiration. To a fault, I would learn to detest being the object of infatuation; I would struggle to believe in lovesick stares.

But never— never would I stop longing for someone to understand me entirely, supernaturally, beyond words. I would never stop dreaming when I looked up at the moon that one day, someone would find me and accept me in my entirety at a single glance. That dream would haunt me forever.

A word of advice: learn to appreciate yourself. Learn to approve of yourself. Learn to admire yourself. Learn to understand yourself. There is a certain liberty in knowing that others, while they may build you up, cannot determine your worth; do not give others the power to tear you down.

I hope you find that liberty because, in my experience, no person— no collection of people— can ever be enough to fill the voids in an individual spirit. Not only will you live unsatisfied if you try to prove me wrong by searching for someone to fulfill your empty spaces — you may break somebody with the weight of your expectations.

You probably don’t need me to tell you to be careful with your heart; most people have a natural instinct to protect themselves from pain. I’ll tell you anyway, though. And I’ll tell you to be especially careful if somebody is kind enough to trust you with the pieces of the heart they have carried since birth. Nothing— nothing is indestructible. In fact, I’m developing a theory that everything, even what you swear can never break, is fragile.

I’m not encouraging you to live in fear or anything. I just think you should know that everything can break, everything can end, because maybe that will encourage you to appreciate it while it is whole. Maybe that will encourage you to appreciate the story as it unfolds without the bittersweet blessing or curse of hindsight.

Plucking from the self a My Melody plush keychain that fit into the palm of his hand, Sehun declared, “This is cute. Do you want it? I’ll buy it for you.” In his questioning, he turned to face me, and his eyes widened ever so slightly to adjust to my frown. “What’s with that face? Didn’t I tell you to smile?”

I mumbled an apology, shifting from one foot to another as I dropped my backpack at my feet, unzipped it, and packed away the cotton candy I was too nauseated to eat. “I just feel bad that Chanyeol left.”

“Well, don’t.” When his simple advice or instruction failed to lighten my frown, Sehun drew a deep breath and tried to speak softly. It didn’t quite suit him. “I think he’s in the arcade, having a blast playing whatever he wanted to play.”

Regardless of whether Sehun said what he truly thought or what he imagined I wanted to hear, I believed him wholeheartedly and, smiling a small smile, I fixed my bag onto my back.

“Now, do you want this little bunny or not?” He smiled at me. For once, when faint laugh lines formed around his mouth, there was no mistaking his smile. It didn’t quite suit the image of Sehun that I held in my mind, but it suited the image of him that I held in my heart. “If you don’t want it, I’ll just buy it for myself.”

Giggling at the mental picture of handsome Sehun walking around with a pretty pink key chain, I said “We should both get one! I’ll get My Melody because she’s my favorite, and for you I’ll buy Badtz Maru because—” I held the black plush up to Sehun’s face— “you’re twins!”

Narrowing his eyes and stuffing his hands into the pockets of his black hoodie, Sehun transformed into a human identical to the stuffed cartoon penguin. I laughed so hard at their resemblance that I forgot to mask my gap.

“You’ll buy it for me?” Sehun’s eyebrows shot up. I nodded passionately, brushing my bangs into my eyes. “Didn’t you hear me earlier? You need to let your seniors pay your way.”

I didn’t like that advice. Sehun tried to snatch Badtz Maru, but I held him protectively against my chest, arguing. “It’s a birthday present for you, Sehun! You can’t buy your own birthday present!”

Birthday gifts must have been the only exception to Sehun’s rule about always making seniors pay; he didn’t argue about Badtz Maru again.

Although Sehun didn’t seem too happy that a ten year old purchased something from the Sanrio store on his behalf, after he paid for the My Melody plush and a stack of pens, a case to carry them in, and notebooks I promised (lied) that I didn’t want, we sat on a bench outside the shop so he could a.) give me the bag containing my gifts and b.) fasten the Badtz Maru keychain onto the backpack he carried to training everyday.

Staring down into my gift bag, I mumbled, “I don’t think I gave you enough, Sehun." I liked him much more than the worth of a silly keychain.

“Gifts don’t work that way,” Sehun said flatly. “They aren’t a competition.” As if to silence me when I opened my mouth to whine, he smiled again. “Thank you.”

Because my heart jumped into my throat, I couldn’t say ‘You’re welcome,’ even though it was the right thing to say, even though it was all I wanted to say. I only nodded my head and hoped that he understood the gesture through my silence.

Now that I am remembering this, I wonder if he still has that backpack. I wonder if he ever uses it these days. If he does, I wonder how worn it must be today.

I happen to know for a fact that the Badtz Maru keychain is now attached to his key ring all these years later. It’s old and faded and not quite as cute as it once was, but he won’t let me replace it.

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cirocchio · 4 years

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AU details 01. royalty etc.

( still pointing at tsun as the instigator for this post )

‘royalty AU’ is too vague for me though so this is going to be a more all-encompassing general description of possible ideas for ‘AUs that all can take place in a political/ court setting’. No fancy introductory story-like excerpt.

Some things to note:

Firstly; because I like to keep Ciri’s Roma heritage I’m more inclined to make her a bastard child that may or may not be legitimised by her father. Usually not. Her uncle, as always, dotes on her. He’s also the more popular of the duo, the heir of the throne, etc. Another idea is that she accompanies Remo/Silvan to court as a child, as Remo would want to lobby for more rights for Rroma/ commoners in general. She can be as high or low-ranking as is deemed suitable for the plot.

Secondly: Ciri will never be a happy ruler. The responsibility of such a position weighs her down and restrains her and has never been something she wants to live with; Ciri both fears and hates power so her having that will make her incredibly uncomfortable. She doesn’t have the talent for scheming and intrigues nor does she command enough respect for her advisers to listen to her: she’d be a puppet at best, a scapegoat or victim of an assassination plot at worst. Ideally ( and even realistically ); she never gets stuck in the position of ruler/heir to the throne in the first place, but if she somehow did, she would work on a way to abdicate or even get banished without too much commotion or sending the country in chaos.

Ciri’s reputation ( aka the one thing I can talk about with almost utmost certainty ): Regardless of her position (low-ranking noble or royal blood), she’d be a bit of an oddball at court. She’s sensible and pragmatic and has plenty of interest in languages, culture, and music, promising traits. Yet when it comes to other matters she is bored, unmotivated, and dreamily stares out of the window during important lessons and meetings. She has no tact and will tell nobles, teachers, and missionaries alike when she does not like them, something they say or do, or disagrees with them without any regard for whether it’s appropriate or not. Being a bad liar Ciri quickly gives up on trying to play with and figure out the different masks people put on and stubbornly stays true to herself, demonstrating her distaste for the two-faced behaviour at court. She spends more time reading books and playing with her birds in the gardens than she does attending festivities, banquets, or councils ( and if she does attend either of those it’s to listen to or talk with the bards and poets and whatnot ). She has proven herself a terrible fighter and tactician at an early age, and actively avoids war generals or soldiers – making her dislike for them obvious. On the other hand, she is known to slip in the kitchens ( is surprisingly resourceful when it comes to this, even though she later confesses her mischief ) at night and speak informally to the servants.

While teachers find her temperament easy to manage, her select interests are frustrating. When she’s not motivated she will not put effort in her tasks, unless perhaps Remo convinces her to, but he’s known to be lenient with her. She openly talks about her fantasy of meeting magickal bards who will steal her away for marriage ( or just adventure ). Rumours circulate that she talks to her birds and kisses them in the hopes of turning them into fairies. In many ways she is a child, yet sometimes she seems wise beyond her years.

She’s passionate about introducing literacy for the common folk, and purposely lets her maids listen in on her classes or gives them ‘homework’ to practice writing, but other than that does not have an active interest in the welfare of the commoners and is thoroughly unhappy with the responsibility to care and decide things for them. She also has romantic views on what it’s like to belong to the common folk and often says she wishes to be one of them, unaware of how limiting, inconvenient, and difficult poverty can be.

The general consensus is that she’s better avoided as her lowborn mother’s traits show in her boorish behaviour and clumsy movements, proving that she has no place at court; wouldn’t want that to rub off on you. Some people enjoy her company and soothing voice, though. Mostly lower-ranking nobles of little consequence, girls a few years younger than her, and the servants she befriends of course. She’s also, obviously, seen as bad wife material. This might make her sound like a rebellious child but Ciri is not the type to throw a tantrum over things, purposely upset others, start fights or otherwise and would endure gossip and humiliation with a meek smile and, or if she reacts her words would lack subtlety and ‘intellect’, aka it makes her come off as an idiot and wouldn’t be too insulting to the person who insulted her first. She minds her own business and so long as others mind theirs she’s happy, as is also the came in most of her other verses. In other words, it all really comes down to her presence at court being very misplaced. Remo thinks it’s endearing and ‘gives the people something to talk about’, so he doesn’t scold her – protects her where he can. Silvan tries his best to ignore her existence altogether, though that’s a bit more dependent on the plot that’s decided on.

Possible situations, place at court:

Remo & Silvan are of royal blood, Remo being the crown prince. Ciri is Silvan’s bastard child, raised at court but not acknowledged by Silvan. Remo takes her under his wings and raises her as an important member at court, using her as a pawn ( to make Silvan seem more sympathetic/ involved/ as a spy under the guise of her talent as a (travelling) court musician/ to strengthen political bonds by arranging a marriage ). Little is Ciri aware that her position is a direct threat to her younger half-sisters; her being older, does she not have as much right on the throne as them? Whether her half-sisters see it the same way is up for discussion.

Similar as above but Remo dies at some point, leaving her back in Silvan’s awkward care. Silvan, convinced and aware of his own limitations as a ruler, would appoint her as his successor so he may abdicate quickly. Ciri resents him for this, ignorant as he is that she’s every bit as unsuitable and unwilling to lead a nation as him. Cue her trying to weasel her way out of it, or early assassination plots, or manipulative leeches trying to make a puppet of her; this would be a scenario where it’s advisable to look for a different successor.

In the event that Silvan/Remo are nobles or even just wealthy merchants who bought their way to court, and have come there to voice their grief about their village/ the Rroma etc. and thus lobby for better conditions, Ciri would mostly be left alone and treated with little interest by others, although she is still in danger of being an assissination victim, as it’s not in everyone’s best interest that Remo convinces the king/court of his right.

Another for if Remo passes away (whether by accident or assassination), better if he’s no heir but just nobility trying to improve the conditions of Rromani; here are actually some options for Ciri to want to actively partake in politics, if only to honour his memory & ‘fulfil his wish’, or even to uncover who murdered him. She’d still suck as before though and would need to rely on others to actually achieve what she wants: it’d be an incredibly dangerous undertaking for her.

Of course she can also be the servant or maid or musician appearing at court and take it from there, but then it’d be your muse’s royal au, not Ciri’s.

Anyway there’s a lot that can happen, catch me coming up with 25 more ideas depending on your muse.

Other things to consider ( on my side of the plotting ): - the position of roma in the society this would take place – are they accepted, outcasts, does it take place in a fictive court where they are a well-represented; is her heritage openly known or kept secret? on the other hand, could the roma try to use her existence as a means to get more rights and visibility in this land? - whether her gender is an issue or not. I’m a fan of not, of using a fictional setting where female monarchs are as common as male (meaning female soldiers and diplomats etc are also equally common), but either way works. - the stability of the country: is it peaceful? on the brink of the war? is there civil unrest or not? how important is it to have a stable ruler? How divided is the court, how many enemies are there? - Ciri’s popularity among the common folk largely depends on what they value/need. Because of her mousy appearance she’s not impressive as a strong leader who guides and unites the people, but her gentle demeanour can be useful if the people value benevolence and mercy - she will always suck and want to get out just know this. would also need help in getting out. - will never care much for a difference in ranks and loathes the titles and formalities that ought to be used.

#( au info. )#( verse: 01. )

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askariakapo90 · 4 years

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Reiki Spiritual Energy Davie Fl 33328 Astonishing Cool Ideas

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How Do You Pronounce Reiki In English

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Reiki Training

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