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blzzrdstryr · 3 years

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Alone together

Yandere!Dainsleif x gn!reader

Wordcount: 2011

CW: Yandere themes, stalking, possessive behavior, PTSD

Khaenri’ah burns. Skies turn red, as tall pillars of smoke arise in the place of ruined towers. People cry and beg and scream.

“Ah, [First] , you came to help” Lisa greets you, waking up from her half-slumbering state: “Welcome, welcome. I already made some tea for you, just let me”. The librarian stretches and yawns akin to a cat, after she stands up from the counter, flashing you one of her charming smiles afterwards: “Go and fetch it. We will work after the tea”.

Something in her voice leaves no room for argument, so you sit at the offered table, eyes immediately shifting to the nearby window, mostly out of habit. Skies are blue and clear, buildings are whole and steady, people are laughing and cheering outside. It’s a sight that brings you heartache and comfort at the same time - no one should be subjected to what you had to live through, whether they worship the seven or not.

“And here it is”, the witch says, holding a tray with a steaming teapot, cups and a plate of cupcakes resting on top of it. The next fifteen minutes are spent drinking and carelessly chatting about everything and nothing in particular: Lisa is an excellent company, adept at maintaining the conversation interesting and atmosphere comfortable, her wide array of knowledge and keen intellect keeping you on your toes throughout the exchange despite the advantage of experience you happen to possess.

The brief tea party is then followed by the shared work of deciphering ancient documents, the librarian sometimes turns to you asking for the meaning of one word or another - most of the texts are written in Khaenri’ahn or archaic forms of the modern languages.

She doesn’t pry why you happen to possess such intrinsic knowledge on the long dead language, nor does she ask anything about your star-shaped pupils - she must have seen the descendants of your compatriots, then. You know there live at least two - one with tan skin and a warm smile that never reaches his cold eyes and a blonde youth with the powers of khemia rolling under his palms. There’s no courage to approach them.

You in turn share Khaenri’ah’s greatest legacy - knowledge and science that helped your nation to outpace the deities and turn them against you. It’s a nice feeling - making sure that the thing your people cherished the most will not be forgotten, even if it’s given to archon worshippers. Five centuries ago the thought of educating Teyvatians would be laughable to you - there’s no use in it, they will continue to believe in their gods - you would dismiss it, but now nationless you have no choice but to do it - it’s the only way to keep the products of your people alive. To keep the memory of your people alive.

Khaenri’ah burns. You run across the collapsing city, eyes growing wider as you see people slowly morphing into something. It’s bestial and feral, primitive. Your breath hitches, you want to scream.

“[First]?”, it’s Lisa again, she lightly taps your shoulder, a hint of concern creeps into her voice

“Ah? Everything is fine, I just zoned off” you reply, too quickly and too strained to be believable. Who could have known that even after five hundred years the flashbacks of what happened on that day will still haunt you? They trail your thoughts like determined hounds, sneaking up on you in the most inopportune times. One moment you are talking to someone, the second you relive the fall of Khaenri’ah. The memory feels too real to be a fantasy, leaving your thoughts messy, anxious and disordered, as you shake and try to calm yourself.

“Are you sure?”, she stands up from her seat and makes a couple of quick steps to you, taking a good look at your face: you must look horrible, you think, those episodes always leave you panting and on the verge of panic.

“Maybe we should continue tomorrow, there’s no use in haste, it’s not like our documents will run away”, Lisa continues, massaging circles into your shoulder - her hand is warm and comforting, grounding. You want to thank her for this - the understanding tone and the way she caresses you right now, helping you to keep the link with reality, but the words get stuck in your throat - it’s too much and too scary, to admit what just has happened not only to her, but to yourself too.

“Yes”, you finally force out of yourself, nodding along the way: “it would be for the better”. Your voice is still too tense and strained, filled with the grief for the people and places long past, but Lisa, to your relief, doesn’t point out any of it. You quickly gather your belongings and leave the library, almost forgetting to bid a farewell to the witch as you exit.

The sun begins to set as you make your way to the rented house, it’s small and nondescript, a complete opposite of the one you had in Liyue. You used to work as a scholar in the harbor before He found you again - you fled your spacious and cozy apartments in less than a day, leaving almost all of your possessions behind.

The thoughts of what had happened still buzz in your mind - you want to scream and cry, you want to vent to someone, but the words you will utter will be in pure khaenri’ahn they won’t understand you.

You think of finally approaching that star-eyed cavalry captain, Kaeya, maybe he saw what you witnessed too. You think of Albedo, who carries the same energy all khaenri’ahn constructs do. You want to ask him about his creator, you want to talk with him about Khemia. You think of Barbatos who wears the form of the cheerful bard, you want to accuse and scream and hit him.

You do nothing as the power leaves your body the same second - it’s scary, so scary to verbalize that, to talk and share and relive, and approaching any of those three means doing exactly so.

You stay inside instead, calming your beating heart and kicking out intrusive thoughts, and only when your pulse returns to the norm you allow yourself to finally stand up. The world is shaky and unreliable, but some things stay the same. Your room for example - you have a habit of leaving things in specific places, as a way to keep you grounded. There’s a comfort in familiarity - the one you desperately need.

Your eyes shift from one object to the other, until they stumble across something that sends your heart racing again. The cup you use is shifted by a couple of inches, facing you by the opposite side, there’s a flower and a note lying beside it. The words are in khaenri’ahn, the handwriting is familiar too.

Khaenri’ah burns. Your lungs do too from the sheer overexertion and fatigue, but you keep pushing further and further - you can’t give up yet, not when He needs you. A name forms on your lips.

Thousand of thoughts form in your mind, they’re panicked, fast and disjointed - flee again, cut and dye your hair, change the name too - you can start over in Inazuma again, it’s a closed country, so if you will manage to get in, it will be harder for him to track you again.

Who are you kidding?

Unlike you, he has a core of steel, an unwavering determination to settle things his way or die trying - be it opposing Celestia or gaining you. It was always like that, with the Twilight sword being stubborn to a fault - he never budged or surrendered, not when Khaenri’ah was still proudly standing, and not now, when there’s nothing but the charred remains of your homeland.

You met him when you got accepted into the Royal order, where a Konungr paired you with Him. The twilight sword was unrelenting in his pursuits even then, a trait that you both admired and feared in equal volume. The collapse of your nation only worsened this quality - if back then he was striving to supervise and oversee everything, then the tragedy exacerbated his controlling tendencies even further.

You were travelling together for the first fifty years after the fall, both affected by the same curse, as he started getting possessive. It began in innocuous things: asking where you were, what you were doing, you didn’t pay much attention back then, celestial wrath still fresh in your memory - he was just cautious you told yourself, it’s a safety measure.

But then these safety measures grew from simply inquiring about your day to accompanying you almost everywhere, and then it all culminated in Him locking you up, to keep you away from leaving.

You escaped then, and avoided him ever since, departing your residence the second you caught the wind of his possible proximity. Years turned into decades that later morphed into centuries, and you began to grow lax - he was getting closer and closer to you with each turn. The first time you had a suspicion of him being near you packed your things the same second and spent countless days traversing the land by hidden passageways, careful not to leave any traces, and now, now you still sit in your house, despite having evidence of him knowing where you are.

Maybe you grew tired of the cat and mouse game, maybe you just accepted that your recapture is inevitable and all your little escapes do nothing, but set it off for a couple of months, or maybe you’re just that lonely. It doesn’t matter, really, as you make no attempt to do anything - it’s useless, he already knows your location.

Khaenri’ah burns. You cry and you hate yourself - for weakness, for helplessness, for still being alive and sane. He stays near you as a silent shadow, his blue eyes shifting from your crying face to the wreckage of the city. There are no words shared between you that day - you’re crushed and empty, yet bare and aching at the same time.

“Dainsleif”, you greet him, once you hear the squeak of the opening door. He doesn’t look that different from five hundred years ago, but now his eyes are both more tired and alive with fervent light.

“[First]”, he simply replies, your name rolling off his tongue like a prayer - there’s adoration and worship in his tone. He almost falls to his knees, as he takes your hands in his, capturing them in a steel trap.

“[First], I finally have you, [first]”, he murmurs, bringing your palm to his face. You don’t resist him, knowing it’s futile. His skin feels just like all those years ago - rough and dry, weathered down by the demanding lifestyle he leads. He gives a shy peck to your inner wrist, blue eyes intently watching you as he does so.

“Long time no see, Dain”, you start, trying to diffuse the tension in the air, as he grabs you by the chin and forces you into a kiss. He kisses with the desperation of a dying person, one of his hands firmly holding your head, the other starts to explore your body. It feels obscene. You are lightheaded, when he finally parts and hugs you again, still chanting “[First]” over and over again.

You allow him this liberty too, feeling a prick of pity in your heart. You know what it is - to be the sole survivor, too see your own people crumble and fall and transform. You know that he returns to that place again and again, reliving the same moment against his will. You know that he gasps and shivers when the memories get too real and overwhelming.

You both are children of the fallen nation, and there's no person in the world who could understand you better than he does. Maybe, you shouldn't have run, you think, listening to Dainsleif speak in Khaenri’ahn. There's a chain of connection between you two, it's unbreakable, forged in shared losses, tears and pain.

Khaenri’ah burns. It burns in both of you.

#yandere genshin impact #yandere dainsleif x reader #Yandere dainsleif #Dainsleif x reader #Dainsleif #Yandere genshin #genshin impact x reader #Yandere genshin x reader #Yandere #Yandere male #Genshin impact #Introverted atheist w/ 0 people skills? I kin #my writing

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anonthenullifier · 3 years

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I have a quote prompt, actually it’s from the first issue of the 1985 Vision and the Scarlet Witch Comic. “The Scarlet Witch is never helpless”

I love this quote! My mind went through so many options that were all really different. Hopefully you enjoy the one I settled on!

——

The cave smells of sulphur and the air is swamp-like, her hair bunching into curls with each additional minute in the humidity. “Hey, Vizh,” Wanda keeps her voice low, as calm as possible, hoping the only attention she rouses is Vision’s and not the transdimensional lava demon clomping back and forth across the cavern. Neither of them stir so she tries again, a touch louder, “Vision.” Under normal circumstances she would reach out not only to his mind but also send a tendril of scarlet to dance along his jaw, except said demon has apparently been studying them, devising vices to limit the use of their powers. Without the freedom of her hands, she finds it hard to channel her powers with enough finesse to only alert Vision, leaving her able only to feel the outermost furling of his thoughts. This is not enough for her to determine that Vision is okay, especially in his current state, his body suspended so that it is leaning forward, arms uncomfortably hoisted behind him to eliminate the chance he can turn his head and sear away the chains with the Mindstone. It reminds her of the nightmare that was aerial battle yoga with Natasha. Wanda tries to nudge his mind while defaulting to conversation in the hope he’ll respond. “I don’t know about you, but my arms are tired.”

Without even opening his eyes, he provides an autopiloted insight to her discomfort, “That would be due to the gravitational field of this planet being almost three times that of Earth.” Two seconds is all it takes before his mind seems to catch up to his surroundings, voice trembling with realization as he raises his head to look at her, “Wanda...when did you get captured?”

Time is meaningless down here, mainly because she can’t access her handheld device to determine how long it’s truly been. “Maybe half an hour ago?” This shouldn't be the point of conversation, however, her own capture not accidental by any means, but she can’t risk alerting their captor to that. “How are you holding up?”

“Rather uncomfortably, as you can no doubt observe.” If his response were a wine, she’d be puckering. At least his spirits are still intact enough to be sardonic. “Are you unharmed?”

His swing from sarcasm to unfettered anxiety dictates she give more than a nonchalant I’m fine. Unlike him, she is in a pretty basic prisoner-in-an-evil-lair position—ankles shackled to the stone wall and shoulders screaming at being suspended by the metal glove encasing both her hands. Even if she’s been here a couple hours less than him, all blood has already drained from her hands and forearms causing pins and needles to colonize under her skin. “Other than my arms, I’m not hurt.” Relief sags his body as much as the restraints allow, maybe a millimeter, but it’s enough, along with his shaky breath out, to convey his ever present concern for her over himself. It’s why she redirects to the real concern here: him. “I assume your powers aren’t working?” The chains attached to Vision’s wrists and ankles jangle morosely as he demonstrates phasing for her. The second his body flickers it is consumed by an electrical shock that sizzles along the edges of the vibranium. She finds herself wincing just so someone acknowledges how agonizing it looks. “You could have just said yes.”

The resounding clink of metal this time is due to his attempt at a shrug, “I felt it pertinent to test the efficacy of the power destabilizer in case it had malfunctioned.”

“Looked like you were trying to win the pitiful award.”

His breathy, contained snort very briefly eradicates the twinge she’s developed in her lower back. “I presume you are either a fellow victim or,” hope enters his question with a little vocal uptick, “here to enact a daring rescue?”

“That’s the plan.”

“Good...good,” they lapse into a moment of silence, “and that plan is?”

The plan was for her to get captured, as it’s the only known way into the deepest cavern and then either wait for the others to find a way to infiltrate (not even Strange’s portals capable of getting in) or she has to identify a weakness from within. It’s not a great plan but it’s what they have to work with since she refused to go another minute not knowing if Vision was okay. “Um, still finalizing it.”

“Ah, well, looking forward to it then.” If anyone else was down here with him they would likely have overlooked the subtle undercurrent of sass, assuming he was just being anticipatory, but she knows every rise and fall of his voice, every carefully planned cadence and right now he is being an ass. A very handsome ass, but an ass nonetheless.

“But now that I’m here, it’s kind of nice,” it’s not, it’s hot, it’s muggy, it’s dripping with molten rock and peppered with vents puffing up noxious gases, “like one of those spas with the hot stone massage.”

Vision does his best to examine the hellscape, neck only able to crane so far due to the angle of his suspension and the increased gravity, not even his attempts at lowering his density are successful in alleviating either impediment, “I would temper your excitement. The attendant,” he nods towards the demon who is currently pacing in front of an iridescent oval, “informed me they are fresh out of those little cucumber slices for your eyes.”

Without thinking, Wanda allows a single syllable laugh to escape her lips, an action that causes the horned, amorphous head of their captor to turn towards her, its eyes burning like two embers hanging on for life at the end of a campfire. Wanda quickly puts on a pathetic whimper, giving her chains a few good rattles and a pitiful, “Please let us go” and then waits until the demon has returned its attention to guarding the prismatic holding container before responding. “I’m knocking a star off their rating then.”

“That seems fair.”

Having confirmed Vision is relatively fine, Wanda lets them lapse back into silence, a recommendation from Carol to not be overly loquacious in case it stirred suspiciousness towards their still forming grand rescue plan, which is usually fine, one thing she loves about Vision is how easy it is to feel comfortable in silence, the gentle thrum of his mind a soothing, harmonious white noise. Except currently she can’t get deep enough into his thoughts to find reprieve. All she can experience is the echo of evenly spaced though labored breathing, the rhythmic rise and fall of his chest, and the clenching of his teeth anytime he attempts to shift his density to counteract the angle of his imprisonment. Wanda tries to tamp down the rising worry of what failure would mean, instead directing all of her own attention to feeling out the options for escape.

First she has to figure out her powers. Not only are her hands bound together in the metal glove, her fingers have been forced into fists with no room to expand. It’s uncomfortable and aggravating but also a grave misunderstanding of her abilities because sometimes finesse isn’t necessary. As controlled as she can manage, Wanda collects her powers into one concentrated ball centering in her chest, holding it steady in case she needs to utilize what Vision has lovingly deemed her supernova. No matter how impressive, however, it’s a dangerous maneuver, one she can’t risk in unstable environments, like a potentially active alien volcano. Which is why she needs to channel the man next to her and be patient. Assess everything. This would be easier if her arms didn’t feel like they were about to fall off.

“Um Wanda…”

Her Yeah? shrivels into terrified nothingness the second she raises her eyes, the lumbering form of their captor oozing over towards Vision. Behind it the shining oval and prismatic container are blindingly bright. That’s never a good sign. Neither is the way it reaches a coal colored hand towards Vision. “Don’t touch him.” There’s a snort, dismissive and loud and like a million steam engines erupting all at once If Wanda had her hands free, she’d use them to cover her ears, the world around her muffled now, even her own breaths sounding distant and unconnected from her.

The demon doesn’t listen to her, a solitary finger delicately (as delicately as a monstrous entity can) touching the Mindstone. The stone lights up in response. Based on the shock spreading across Vision’s face and rippling through his body, he is not in control of it. She has made the stone betray him before, and still lives with that guilt, still remembers the way he described it to her, the suffocating realization that he lacked control over such an integral aspect of himself. She’ll be damned to allow anyone else to make him feel it again.

“Stop!” Horrified, she watches the demon ignore her, beckoning the Mindstone energy forward in a docile beam, inching it along with malicious encouragement even as Vision thrashes against his restraints. Clearly the time for planning is over. “I said stop!”

The demon's head swings towards her and she almost screams, the crackling skin of their captor close enough for her to gaze into the smoldering eyes studying her. She imagines standing in the middle of a raging forest fire would be more comforting than the depths of hell in its pupils. “Accept your fate, little witch.” The words spoken are not the ones she hears, its voice akin to the shattering of an entire hutch of china during a tornado, a tinkling of shards as they get whisked away in the howling wind, and yet she understands it, likely some form of mental translation Dr. Strange told them existed in other beings. It’s awe-inspiring while also being a complete ass.

Wanda meets its eyes and glares. “Only if you accept your fate.”

It laughs, wings expanding out across the entire cavern, shaking as if it has heard a joke for the first time in eons. “You,” it bends low, the heat of its body drawing droplets of sweat along her forehead, “are helpless here.”

“You are going to regret that.” For a man who only seconds ago was fighting for his life, Vision’s gleeful taunt enlivens in her the last bit of strength she needs.

Wanda siphons his confidence into herself, unlocking the core of her power as she sets up her daring rescue at last. “You made two mistakes today.” The transdimensional demon lacks hair and any sort of eyebrows, but that doesn’t stop the distinct feeling of it raising them in disbelief. “First,” Wanda leans forward as much as the chains allow, “you kidnapped and tortured the love of my life. And second,” scarlet begins seeping through her body, crackling along her skin as she speaks, “you assumed I was helpless,” the plan was to cause as little harm as possible, the terrain unstable, the power of this demon unknown, but that’s too soft a punishment for a being that doubts her might, that thinks it can control her, that tried to take from her and think she wouldn’t fight back. Wanda makes sure the demon is looking directly at her when she invokes its fate . “The Scarlet Witch is never helpless.”

As the last word falls from her lips, she allows her powers to erupt.

Oiled hands knead up and down Wanda’s arm, applying the perfect amount of pressure to alleviate the last of her aches. There’s a lovely waft of chamomile each time she breathes in and a soothing melody of some nondescript instrumental track. Even more peaceful is the ebb and flow of Vision’s thoughts, her powers greedily deep in his mind. It’s why she’s able to smile in anticipation of his next comment.

“I agree with you.”

Wanda stays face down, far too relaxed to even think about moving, “Obviously,” a little snort comes from her left, guiding her lips up higher into victory, “what specifically?”

“I just finished the report,” only Vision would consider mission reports a comfort read, “Dr. Strange is still perturbed with your methods.”

In her mind there was no inkling of doubt their de facto mission leader was seething, mostly due to the forty minute lecture she received on excessive use of powers, but rarely does he allow it to seep into ink for everyone to read. “I think he’s jealous.”

What she expects is an airy laugh and then a gentle rebuttal, instead she is delivered a treat, “I do believe that is part of it.” Wanda apologizes to the masseuse as she props herself up to look over at Vision, tickled at the unadulterated relaxation before her. He’s engulfed in a snowy white robe while reclined in a chair, a hot towel wrapped around his head with two little cucumber slices on his eyes that look like lifeboats in the waves of the clay mask slathered on his face. When he talks it forms little cracks in the mask, “You achieved a feat he could not, anyone would experience at least a speck of jealousy.”

“Even you?”

“If I had been in his position?” the cracks splinter in six different branches as he contemplates. “Yes, even me. But,” gingerly he reaches up and lifts a cucumber, allowing her to see the swirling gear of his iris, “given I was not in his position, I, instead, am able to appreciate how very fortunate I am to be loved by such a stunningly powerful woman.” A flirty little wink is sent her way before the cucumber drops back into place.

Wanda grins, cheeks rising high enough to hurt a little, as she settles back into the massage table. After all these years that little boyish grin and wink of his urges her heart to beat a hair faster. Maybe she lied in the cavern, overstated the level of helplessness she can experience, because no matter the circumstance, she will always be helplessly in love with Vision. A fact that doesn’t weaken her, can never tame her, one instead that challenges her to understand and harness her powers even more because the universe will never stop trying to take from her, will relentlessly pursue her happiness. This she won’t stand for anymore. Whatever comes next, no matter how intimidating or powerful, she will be ready to yet again prove that the Scarlet Witch is not so easily crossed.

#vision #wanda maximoff #wandavision #scarlet vision #ask anon #mine

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bad-at-names-and-faces · 3 years

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What if...

These are the canon divergence drabbles that I’ve already posted, but arranged in chronological order... Enjoy!

Anna looked around the valley where Kristoff had brought her, trying to see where these friends or family of his were. All she saw were rocks, and rich green moss. For whatever reason, this place hadn’t gotten any snow, but in spite of the warm steam vents, Anna still felt increasingly cold.

Olaf suggested she should go, and then the rocks started moving. Anna felt a wave of cold, and everything went black. Kristoff was holding her as she came to, and someone was speaking… a troll?

“Anna, we’ve got to get you back to Hans,” Kristoff told her.

“Hans…”

***

“So, you’re the young man who rescued Princess Anna from her folly?”

Kristoff nodded silently, not sure how he should be addressing this Prince Hans that he had heard both so much and so little about.

“Queen Elsa told me that she’s given you a title. It’s no kind of title that I’ve ever heard of, but I guess she wants to keep you around. If Anna and I weren’t already engaged, I think I might feel some jealousy.”

Kristoff’s eyes widened, afraid to look away even as Hans’s eyes dug into his gaze.

“Relax, have a drink!” Hans laughed.

***

It wasn’t in his nature to care, Kristoff thought to himself. He had taken her to the North Mountain, and he’d helped get her back to Arendelle, but it was because he needed the money. It wasn’t anything else.

And of course he’d carried her when they had arrived at the castle, she was too weak at that point to walk, and of course he was grateful when the spell broke and Anna was better, who wouldn’t be? It was pure luck that Hans had just gotten back with Elsa, because imagine if they hadn’t gotten to Elsa right away…

***

Her eyes were blue. Kristoff wasn’t very poetic, and while he’d heard so many other words to describe the colors exactly, he could never be sure exactly what color turquoise was supposed to be, and whether it was more blue or more green. And what was aquamarine, exactly? And the color of her eyes was different sometimes. When he took her back to the castle in the snowstorm, they were almost grey.

The ice was in the wagon, ready to bring to the castle. He wasn’t supposed to think about this. He wasn’t supposed to think about her like this.

***

“So the wedding is happening next week?” Kristoff asked Elsa, not really needing confirmation of the schedule.

“Yes,” she replied, wringing her hands as she stood in the kitchen doorway, “Anna was quite determined, and she… she can be quite persuasive, you know.”

“So you approve now?”

“I have my reasons,” Elsa sighed.

“I mean, you didn’t know him before, so that’s understandable.”

“Oh, yes, of course,” Elsa said quickly, “you’re absolutely right.”

“I have to admit, when she first told me, I questioned her judgement.”

“Her naivety is certainly charming, don’t you think?” Hans asked, startling both of them.

***

“Hans and I never fight,” Anna declared confidently, “in fact, I don’t think we’ve ever had a fight.”

Kristoff nodded silently as he unloaded more ice into the castle kitchen. Anna was watching him from the interior door.

“I know why you’re skeptical. I shouldn’t have told you so much last week. I really shouldn’t let my mouth run like that.”

Kristoff paused what he was doing. “So you’re telling me what you said wasn’t true?”

“I…” she paused. “I could have phrased it better. I was upset that he was traveling again. That was all. It wasn’t a fight.”

***

“What?!” Anna exclaimed, coming into the courtyard decorated with bright yellow sunflowers.

“Happy Birthday!” everyone exclaimed in unison.

“Elsa? Did you do this for me?”

“Of course! You deserve a proper birthday!”

“And everyone is here!” Anna said, starting to cry.

“Except Ha-mmph” Olaf began before Kristoff muffled his mouth.

“Well,” Anna sniffed, “he had… something he needed to travel for.”

Kristoff noticed Elsa clench her jaw.

Anna didn’t seem to notice, but walked over to Gerda when she heard the baby fuss slightly.

“Please, Your Highness, we’ll take care of him right now. You need to enjoy your cake.”

***

"Kristoff!" Anna exclaimed happily as she entered the kitchen.

"You sound surprised to see me," Kristoff chuckled.

"I didn't realize you would be here this early."

"You're usually not up this early."

"Well, the baby was up most of the night. I'm wide awake now."

"I thought royalty always had servants to take care of those things." Kristoff winked.

"Hans wants me to, but it's not what I want. Elsa has made it clear to him that I get to decide on this."

Kristoff nodded, and turned around to get another block of ice. Anna thought she heard him sigh.

***

Kristoff helped set down another row of pumpkins for the harvest. The color made him think of Anna’s hair… like the orange crystal he had found on his last trip to the mountains. He gazed at the princess helping across the square, her young son following along cheerfully. Kristoff walked toward them to see if he could help out.

“Kristoff! Look! A ship!” the boy shouted.

“What?” Anna said, looking up. “Hans’s ship! They’re back from the West Indies already!”

“Is Father home early?” the boy asked.

Kristoff nodded. “You two should go greet him,” he said, forcing a smile.

***

“Do you enjoy these games in which the player must appear ridiculous?”

Elsa looked over. “Hans, life is a game in which the player must appear ridiculous.”

“Not my life.”

“You’ve never been home for our games before,” Anna whispered apologetically. Elsa went back to shouting out guesses to the word Kristoff was trying to act out, while Olaf offered increasingly ridiculous suggestions. “We do this fairly often.”

“I can see that,” he sneered.

The bell rang. Everyone except Hans let out a groan.

“Ice!” Kristoff exclaimed.

“You couldn’t act out ice?” Anna laughed.

“Anna, it’s your turn,” Kristoff announced.

***

The fire from the lantern cast a glow over the wagon.

“They’re both asleep!” Anna whispered, climbing over to the front with Kristoff.

“How are you doing?” he asked her, keeping his eyes straight ahead.

“I’m fine,” she replied, suspiciously cheerful.

“You’re sure?”

“They’ll be fine. Hans knows what he’s doing.”

“He knows how to run a kingdom.”

Anna began crying.

“Hey, I didn’t mean-”

“It’s the first time I’ve been away from him since he was born,” she sniffed.

“Come here,” Kristoff said, putting his arm around her.

“Thank you, Kristoff,” she yawned, leaning her head on his shoulder.

***

The autumn leaves were a deep red in the clearing. Elsa had told Anna her plan to stay with the Northuldra and the spirits, which meant that Anna would now be Queen, and now Anna was sitting alone while everyone else made plans to head back south to Arendelle.

“Hey.” Anna heard the painfully familiar, gentle voice behind her. “Can I join you?” Kristoff asked as she turned around, smiling sadly.

“Of course!” she insisted, “You’re always welcome.”

“Elsa told me…”

Anna nodded.

“I’ll help you get back to Hans,” he said, “and then…”

“No,” she grabbed his hand, “Please…”

***

Kristoff pulled away from the kiss. “Anna, no, we can’t.”

“Please, Kristoff,” she pleaded, “tomorrow night, we’ll be back in Arendelle, and everything will be just as it was.”

“It’s not gonna be the same-”

“Yes, I’m the Queen now. You have to do what I say,” she teased, pulling him to her.

“Anna!” Kristoff kissed her forehead. “Don’t do this to me.”

“I wish I’d listened,” she sighed, holding back tears as she sat down.

“Listened?”

“When you told me I shouldn’t marry him.” she looked up, eyes filled with passion. “Some days, I wish I’d married you instead.”

***

The warmth of Anna’s skin against his was all he wanted to think about. She was warm and soft, and that was all that mattered. When he thought about nearly losing her when the dam broke yesterday, he held her tighter.

He didn’t want to think about tomorrow, when they would return to Arendelle.

Tomorrow, he would return her to her husband. She wasn’t his, and never would be. This was borrowed time. Years of secret longing had won out over his best judgement.

“I love you, Kristoff,” Anna murmured into his shoulder.

She wasn’t his, but he was hers.

***

Sunshine streamed across the square as Kai announced “Queen Anna of Arendelle” to the cheering crowd. Anna walked along, smiling and waving.

Her coronation had happened a few days after they had returned from the Enchanted Forest. Today they were dedicating the new statue. Hans was skeptical of the idea, but she was sure he’d come around. He would probably be in a better mood once the council approved his new title, and was even now inside the tent talking with an elderly duke.

“Your Majesty,” came the familiar voice.

“Kristoff!” she exclaimed happily, “You’re here?”

“Of course,” he smiled.

***

The ice harvest was exhausting, but exhausting in a good way. Kristoff liked being too worn out to think at the end of the day. Ever since he’d met her, Anna occupied his thoughts if he wasn’t careful. Before, it was frustrating, but fine. It was fine. She was beautiful and funny and so many other things, but she was married to someone else.

She was still married to someone else, but now… He felt guilty about it, and yet, she was clearly so much happier when he was around.

There was no way this could end well, and yet…

***

“Good morning, Kristoff,” Anna announced cheerfully, stepping into the kitchen.

“Your Majesty,” Kristoff replied with full propriety, raising his eyebrows and giving a subtle nod in the direction of the kitchen maid.

“Oh!” Anna exclaimed, “they have you working early this morning, Oline.”

“Your Majesty,” she smiled, “there’s a dinner for the visiting Russian royalty this evening, so they needed me to start the preparations early.”

“My goodness, I quite forgot!” Anna exclaimed. She glanced over at Kristoff, who grimaced as he lifted the final block of ice.

“Your Majesty, I hope you enjoy your day,” Kristoff announced, heading out.

***

Kristoff could never beat the sunrise in the summer. They weren’t that far north, but if he slept at all during the night, he would miss the sunrise. He brought the ice into the castle kitchen, not sure whether or not he wanted to be finished before anyone else showed up.

He didn’t know what the news would be, but at sunset the night before he had heard the excited commotion that the Queen was in labor. He had tried his best to keep busy, looking no more interested than anyone else. After all, she told him she wasn't certain.

***

Anna stared out over the fjord from the window. The sun reflecting off the water was glaring, and it hurt her eyes, but she needed to look, to try to see if Kristoff was in town today. It wouldn’t do for her to go out, not this soon, but she desperately wanted him to see the baby, to know with a subtle nod what she could already guess, even at only a week old.

She finally saw him across the market square, bringing in an ice delivery, as always. It was a warm August day, and she opened the window.

***

“Oh, here they are, their highnesses!” the cook smiled as the nanny brought the two into the kitchen.

“Good morning,” the boy greeted her.

“Morning!” his little sister followed.

“How is Her Majesty doing?” the cook asked the nanny quietly as the children tasted the morning’s pastries.

“Quite well. And the baby is healthy, too.”

“Who does this one resemble?”

“Oh, you know it’s too early to tell.”

“The girl looks so much like... her aunt... of course. Except for the eyes.” She looked at the girl’s face as she took another pastry. “Her eyes… Oh, here’s the ice delivery!”

***

“Yay! We’re going to visit Aunt Elsa!” the little blonde girl cheered as Kristoff lifted her into the wagon, her hazel eyes sparkling with joy.

“Mother, why does Father never visit the Northuldra with us?” her older brother asked innocently, climbing over the back of the wagon.

“There’s been too much to do in the West Indies,” Anna explained, shifting the baby to her other hip so that Kristoff could assist them up. “He misses you all terribly when he’s away.”

Kristoff met Anna’s eyes, knowing very well the look when she hid the truth.

“Ready Sven? Let’s get going!”

***

There was always a strange calm after a heavy snow. Anna went out with the children to play in the fresh snow, a rare luxury in recent years, since Hans insisted it was unbecoming for a Queen. But he wasn’t here, traveling again, so she did what she wanted.

The youngest toddled through the snow, having just turned a year old. Anna found the mess of blond hair both adorable and terrifying.

Eventually, the cold, wet snow was too much, and the nanny helped them inside for warm baths and bedtime.

Anna stepped into a spare room.

“Kristoff,” she whispered.

***

The purple crocuses were blooming in town even before all the snow had melted in the hills above. As the days got warmer, the children went out to play, and the melting ice meant that more ships would soon be visiting the harbor.

Anna watched as her three children ran around with the children from the town. She spotted Kristoff returning from the castle.

"Your Majesty," he bowed with a knowing smirk.

"Have you finished the ice delivery?" Anna asked as they walked to a protected corner of the market square. He nodded.

"When is he returning?" Kristoff asked her.

***

“Are you going to run off with him now?” Hans asked dryly.

“What are you talking about?”

“I’ve only been back from the West Indies for a month. I’m not stupid. Before you’ve been much better about providing plausible deniability.”

“Before… what do you mean?”

“The first one, I know he’s mine. But the others… the girl, yes, they say she resembles her aunt. That’s very convenient. The younger boy, though, do you think I’m blind? Do you think there aren’t whispers among the staff?”

“Are you threatening me? I’m the Queen.”

“Your condition is delicate, I can just wait.

***

“Kristoff!” Anna hissed as his cart entered the castle gates.

“Anna!” Kristoff gasped, not expecting to see anyone in the early summer morning twilight.

“You’ve got to get out of here,” she whispered, running up to him, “Hans knows.”

“What about you?”

“I’ll be fine.”

“How can you be sure?”

“He wasn’t in a rage, in fact he was very calm… it won’t do to have anything happen to me or the children. I think we can count on that much.”

“Is that what he really said?”

“Please, Kristoff, just go… they’ll be safe enough.”

“But will you be safe?”

***

Anna sat in the middle of the portrait gallery and looked around. The people in the paintings seemed to be glaring down at her. Their grace and beauty had always inspired her, but she didn’t know what to do now.

She had warned Kristoff to get away, but he wasn’t leaving until she was safe. He was right, though, there were no good options. Arendelle had no army or navy. Any defiance on her part would bring in the Southern Isles. Anyone who came to her defense was at risk.

“Mama?” her daughter’s voice echoed from the doorway.

“Yes, Inga?”

***

They’d taken flight the night before, away from Arendelle. Kristoff had Sven taking the wagon at top speed. This was madness but what other choice did they have at this point? Hans knew, and it was bad enough that she was at risk, but she couldn’t put Kristoff at risk.

The mountains grew less familiar. They were deep in the woods now. He knew where they were going, but she didn’t really remember. He had said something about the trolls. She would have to trust him. He said she’d been there before. She couldn’t remember very much. They were close.

***

Kristoff knew the risk of returning to Arendelle, especially so soon, but Anna was safe with her sister, and he needed to see for himself what the official story was going to be, and besides, he had never seen a state funeral before.

The ceremony was brief, but Kristoff could see that all the children were well. The oldest looked oddly mature for a boy of seven, standing solemnly next to his father, now the regent, the two looking like a matched set. The younger two, their heads covered, were well tended by the nanny. He wanted to hug them.

***

The sadness was overwhelming. Anna woke up and looked around. She was alive. Kristoff was alive. They were safe. She had to trust that the children were more valuable alive, like Hans had promised. But as far as anyone in Arendelle knew, she was dead.

But she had gotten herself into this mess. She had gotten into this mess years ago, and had blithely trusted that things would be fine, and never said stop when she should have. Could they ever go back?

As she stepped outside, she saw a familiar gust of wind. A letter fell into her hand.

***

Dear Mother,

I remember that you told me that the wind spirit will always get letters to you, so I’m going to try writing to you, even though they tell me that you’re dead now. At your funeral, you and the baby were covered with a dark veil, and they said it was best that I not look.

Freddy has been asking for you. Inga just cries. I’m working hard at my studies, like you told me to. Father tells me that he will take care of running the kingdom until I’m old enough. Please write back.

With love,

Lars

***

Dearest Lars,

I wish I could tell you where I am, but please know that I am safe and well. Try to cheer up your brother and sister the best you can, and tell them I love them.

You must hide the letters you get from me, and never tell anyone about them. I won’t ask you to keep any other secrets, but please keep this secret. I hope when you’re older, I’ll be able to tell you everything.

Until then, I want to hear all about your studies and your games and everything going on.

I love you,

Mother

***

Dear Mother,

I’ve hidden your letter in the secret room you showed me when I was five, the one you said that Father doesn’t need to know about.

I get to ring the Yule Bell this year. There wasn’t a Harvest Festival because everyone was still in State Mourning, that’s what they called it. I’m not sure if we’re still supposed to be in State Mourning, but Nanny has me wearing black every day, but Inga and Freddy don’t have to.

My studies are going very well, and I’ve started studying Latin. I play when I can.

With love,

Lars

***

Dearest Lars,

I’m so happy that your studies are going well. You’ll need all of that in the future. There are some books in the secret room that you should be sure to read.

Please make sure your brother and sister are happy and well. Please let me know about how they’re doing.

I wish I could see you all right now. I miss you so much. Think of me when you’re ringing the Yule Bell this year. I know the preparations will be keeping you busy, so only write back when you have enough time.

I love you,

Mother

***

Dear Mother,

The Yule Bell ringing went very well, and everyone told me how brave and dignified I looked. Father says we are still in mourning, so we didn’t get to celebrate anything for Christmas. The Yule Bell is for the people, so we needed to maintain that. We spent most of the week in the chapel, otherwise I would have written to you earlier.

I hope wherever you are you enjoyed the holidays. They let us play out in the snow, and I taught Inga and Freddy the song about the trolls. Do you remember it?

With love,

Lars

***

Dearest Lars,

I’m sorry for not writing back sooner, but I needed to wait until there was more paper, and the weather was too unpredictable to be traveling this winter. I hope you understand.

I hope you’ll be doing something nice for your birthday in a few weeks. There is a book in the secret room, next to the north window, on the third shelf from the bottom. It was my favorite when I was about your age. I hid it there for safe keeping. Tell me what you think.

Please give hugs to Inga and Freddy.

Fondest love,

Mother

***

Dear Mother,

I found the book, thank you so much! I’ve read it several times now, though only when I can get to the secret room with nobody seeing me.

Now that I’m eight my tutor says I should spend even more time on my studies, and he thinks I can go ahead and start learning Greek in addition to Latin. I’ve also been practicing riding, and I’ve gotten quite good at it. Father says that’s important, too. He’s going to find someone to teach me fencing soon.

Do you want anything for your birthday next month?

With love,

Lars

***

Dearest Lars,

You don’t need to get anything for my birthday, but please make sure that your brother and sister know that it’s my birthday. I’m so happy that you enjoyed the book. Like I said, it was one of my favorites.

I hope you do lots of riding now that the weather is nice. Try to go beyond the castle courtyard now that you’ve got some experience, if your tutors will let you.

I miss you so much. I know I’ve said that many times, but I do. Give hugs to Inga and Freddy for me.

Much love,

Mother

***

Dear Mother,

I’ve had a very good summer so far. I spent lots of time riding around the countryside with my riding tutor, and we often went to the cliffs to see down to the fjord. I like looking out at the ocean.

I’m not as good at fencing, but I’m practicing. It doesn’t seem quite as fun as pretend sword fighting, and the tutor is very strict about it.

Inga’s birthday is next week. She’ll be five, and Father says he supposes she should have a governess soon, but she’s already reading my books.

I miss you.

Love,

Lars

***

Dearest Lars,

There is a trunk in the secret room, near the south window. If you open it, you should find a doll on the top. Please give that to Inga for her birthday. Don’t tell anyone where you found it, of course.

Make sure that you share all your school books with her, and please make sure she’s learning everything that you’ve learned. Let me know how she’s doing, of course. And Freddy, too. I haven’t forgotten him. Make sure they all get hugs, and let me know if they’re happy.

Take care of yourself, too.

Fondest love,

Mother

***

Dear Mother,

It’s been a year since they told me you died. We spent the day at a memorial service. Father was acting very sad, which he hasn’t been most of the time. Maybe it was the ceremony. If I weren’t getting your letters, I think I’d be sad, too. Nanny had to take Freddy out because he was making a scene. Inga was sad, but I tried to make her happy afterwards.

Father will be traveling to the West Indies in a few days, and he doesn’t know when he’ll get back.

I still miss you, Mother.

Love,

Lars

***

Walking into the library, Inga saw her older brother out on the balcony throw something into the air.

"What was that?"

He startled. "Nothing… just thinking about Mother."

"Oh. I wonder what she would think about you secretly teaching me Latin."

"Very much in favor," he smiled.

"I'd like to think that," she sighed. "I certainly wish Father approved. All I get now is French and dance. I must marry well."

Her brother cleared his throat. "Nevermind that, here's Cicero."

She opened the book at the bookmark. "Iustitia…" hesitating, she looked up at her brother.

"That means 'justice'," he explained.

***

The Bishop continued to intone about the eternal. Was the afterlife where she would see her mother again? This was the anniversary of her mother’s death. She hadn't seen her since the age of four. Her younger brother was too young to remember, while her older brother, king in name only, was always strangely calm on this day. For her father, the regent, this day was the only day of the year he showed signs of emotion over his late wife. In ten years, she had only seen him grieve at public events. The memories never sat right with her.

***

“This is an affront!” Hans shouted, slamming his hand down on the table.

“Excuse me,” the crown princess replied calmly, “but we’re not the ones trying to turn our child’s engagement into a business transaction. She’s a sweet girl, and he seems to like her, so we have no objections, they have our blessing, but that doesn’t mean you or Arendelle should get any special privileges.”

“She is only seventeen,” he reminded them. “You expect me to let her go so young?”

“He wasn’t asking you permission to get married right away. At any rate, you came to us, remember?”

***

“You should kneel.”

“Why? You’re not the king, and as of yesterday, you’re no longer regent.” She stood up as tall as she could, not quite reaching his eye level, but close enough. He wasn’t towering over her.

“Your brother may have come of age, but you haven’t. I have half a mind to send you to a convent.”

“Go ahead, Father. If I’m Catholic, that makes me worthless to England, and then where’s your bargaining chip for Russia?” she asked seriously.

“Enough of this!” he shouted, “you’re getting to be as bad as your mother.”

She smiled. “Thank you.”

#drabbles #canon divergence #frozen fanfiction #kristanna

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jihyuncompass · 4 years

Note

Hello! Can I request a scenario where MC is freaking out because she thinks RFA wants to break up with her after a fight? Thabks for the good writing headcanons, I love reading them :)

I’m glad you like reading them! I like writing them :)

Note: I just added the main RFA in here, if you or anyone else wants me too I would be happy to add in V and Saeran.

Zen

I kind of wrote something like this in another headcanon but I’m gonna reimagine that a little.

The two of you didn’t fight often, but Zen had a bad habit of getting angry about certain things and sometimes it would end up becoming a fight.

Most of the time Zen just needed to blow off some steam and he’d be fine but after one particular fight it wasn’t like that.

Zen generally didn’t stay upset for a long time, but this particular time was different. It had been days since you two had argued and he still was clearly upset.

After a couple of days you started to think that maybe this was the end of your relationship. Maybe the reason Zen wasn’t trying to fix things with you was because he was trying to break up with you.

Sitting on the floor of your shared bedroom, you start to panic. You love Zen you don’t want to break up with him!

You kept thinking about what you would do, where you would go, but even the very thought of breaking up made you cry harder.

When Zen got back from his run he saw you sitting on the floor. Seeing you like that worried him instantly.

From Zen’s perspective he hadn’t intended to act so badly towards you. Money was tight and gigs weren’t coming as quickly as they should be. He was stressed and anxious, and he hadn’t realized how much it had affected you.

He went into the bedroom and sat down in front of you. He tried to reach for your hand but you pulled away from him.

“Babe, what’s going on?” He asked.

“Zen.” You couldn’t look in his eyes, just him being there felt like too much. “Do you want to break up?”

Zen was absolutely speechless, “Babe, why would you think I want to break up with you?”

“You’ve been so angry the past few days I guess I thought-” You shook your head, unable to keep talking.

The realization of his behavior for the past week hit him like a truck as he reached out to hold your shoulders.

He apologized, holding you as tight as he could. After having a long conversation that morning he spent the rest of that day and the next few after that making sure that you knew just how much he loved you and how much he cares.

Yoosung

The two of you fought from time to time but not super often.

Yoosung was a pretty emotional guy so sometimes the anger would just overwhelm him.

The two of you had gotten into an argument earlier that day before Yoosung had left for his classes for the day.

The two of you usually texted each other throughout the day whenever he was in between classes. You had sent him a few texts apologizing and asking him to call you when he had a moment.

You saw that he had read the messages but he didn’t respond. You sat waiting for him to answer getting more and more anxious the more time that passed.

In the past even during your worst fights he never left you on read, the two of you were always felt determined to try and solve the issue but you could tell this was different.

Trying to keep yourself from getting too worked up you tried to think of what to do. What if this was the last straw fro him? What if this is what ended your relationship?

You didn’t want that to happen but you didn’t want to stay in a relationship that he didn’t want to be in.Trying not to be too rash you sat in the apartment, waiting for him to come back.

When Yoosung finally got home you could barely look at him. Your hands were shaking and you couldn’t help but feel like this was the end.

“Can we talk?” You asked him.

The two of you sat next to each other, talking back and forth, you both apologized for how you had acted ruing the fight. Despite that though, the tension you were holding wasn’t going away.

You asked him if you still wanted to stay together even after this fight. When you asked the question Yoosung looked appalled.

“Of course I want to stay together! Do you want that?”

Hearing that was like a huge relief, the weight finally coming off of your shoulders. You sighed and hugged him tight, grateful that the conversation hadn’t ended the way you thought it would earlier that day.

Jaehee

Things are the cafe were stressful to say the least.

The two of you had become busier than ever and by the end of every day the two of you were exhausted.

The original fight started because you had accidentally misordered something for the cafe. And while it wasn’t the end of the world by any means it was just another thing to add to the list of stressors that day.

You hadn’t fought openly but Jaehee was acting coldly towards you.

As much as you tried to ignore the thought in your head you couldn’t fight the worry that maybe Jaehee was done with you. Perhaps you had made one mistake too many and now you had to deal with the consequences.

The worry was only getting worse as you kept working. Continuously looking over at Jaehee to see the expression on her face, if she was looking at you, or even showing any regard towards you.

Near the later evening when things began to slow down you had excused yourself. Going into the back storage room to try and calm yourself down.

There all the thoughts overwhelmed you, maybe it was the coffee you had earlier in the day but your heart felt like it was going to beat right out of your chest.

You weren’t sure how long it was but Jaehee eventually came looking for you, and when she found you panicking in the back room she felt the guilt set in.

The truth was that Jaehee knew that she had a bad habit of doing this. Whenever work got extremely stressful she would end up acting cold without meaning too. It happened a lot more when she worked for Jumin but she hadn’t ever really gotten this way with you.

When you saw Jaehee you started to apologize, feeling guilty for your mistake, for leaving, for getting upset, all of the above. She took a seat on the floor next to you.

Before you could even finish your speech Jaehee stopped you. Insisting that the mistake wasn’t a big deal and how sorry she was for how she had acted towards you.

Together you vented the stress you were feeling about the cafe, about how much the work was, about how busy it was getting. The cafe was always meant to be a passion project between the two of you. The business was basically your child together.

But after this you both agreed that maybe it was time to look at hiring some extra help. So maybe you both could sleep better and actually take days off.

Sitting in the backroom together, you both took a break. A long needed one.

Jumin

Being in a relationship with Jumin Han had a lot of perks. But there were also some not great things.

It wasn’t Jumin himself though! He was great, but some of the people in had in his life was another story.

Because of his job he frequently had dinners and fancy events to attend. All of which were hosted and attended by many other prominent people in Jumin’s line of work.

One of the hardest things to learn was how to act in front of these people. What the proper things to say were, how to behave, how to eat, breathe, dress, just exist around them.

Over time it had gotten easier, but sometimes mistakes happened.

You had made a bit of a blunder during an important dinner. At the time you hadn’t thought it was a big deal but after you had gotten home you could tell Jumin wasn’t happy.

The two of you had ended up in a fight. And eventually you had just walked away going into the bedroom to try and calm down. Sitting on your bed you attempted to focus on anything other than the fight.

You loved Jumin, you knew that but it was moments like this where your anxiety started to bubble up. He was so smart and important, and you, well you were just you.

Why would someone like Jumin want to be in a relationship with someone like you? There’s a thousand other people he could date who wouldn’t make the same mistake you did.

Looking out the large windows of the Penthouse you thought about what your options were. If the two of you ended up breaking up you would need to figure out a place to go, what you were going to do, could you even stay in the RFA?

Before long Jumin was knocking on the door. You didn’t say anything but he let himself in anyways, as much as you wanted to you couldn’t force yourself to look him in the eyes while he walked over to you.

He kneeled down on the floor so you had to look at him.

“Maybe we should break up.” You started.

“Why do you think that?” Jumin asked you.

“Because-” You found yourself sniffling. “I’m not good enough for you, I don’t know all these things you know, and I’m sure there’s someone way better than me who does.” You explained.

Jumin’s hands went to cup your cheeks, coming closer to you so all you could see was him.

“You are more than good enough.” He started. “It isn’t your fault and I shouldn’t have lost my temper with you. I’m sorry.” Looking into his eyes you saw the sparks of emotion that went across his face. “I love you. And I have no intentions of ever leaving you.”

A shaky sigh escaped your lips and you rested your forehead against his. Even though your chest was still aching you felt slightly reassured by his words.

Seven/Saeyoung

Things between you and Saeyoung were good a vast majority of the time. The two of you were close and got along really well.

But Saeyoung wasn’t exactly very good at dealing with stress. So when things got difficult, arguments started having more often.

Ever since Saeran been removed from Mint Eye his recovery was slow. There were some days when things were terrible. And those days were also the worst for Saeyoung.

Seeing his brother in pain made him hurt, and he wasn’t very good at dealing with that hurt.

At a point Saeyoung had just walked away to go check on Saeran. After the door slammed behind him you stood in silence for a moment. You pushed your hair from your eyes and focused on your breathing.

You thought about before the two of you had gotten together, sitting in Rika’s apartment with Saeyoung refusing to engage with you. Looking around your shared bedroom you grabbed your backpack.

Even if Saeyoung hadn’t broken up with you yet somehow you could feel that it was coming.

He had enough on his plate to deal with, between the RFA, and Saeran why would you think he could also handle you too?

You didn’t grab everything, but you took some clothes with you. Rubbing your eyes you left the bedroom and started quietly heading to the front door of the bunker.

Before you get to the door Saeyoung saw you. The moment you both saw each other you stopped. You hoped that he wouldn’t see you trying to leave. You hoped you could have just called him later but that was obviously no longer and option.

Saeyoung’s eyes traveled from your face to the backpack on your shoulders, then back up to you. “Where are you going?” He asked.

“I think maybe we just need a break.” You said. “You have more than enough to deal with already.”

After a moment and realizing what it was you were saying Saeyoung shook his head, realizing what you meant.

“Don’t go, please.” Saeyoung said.

“Maybe you’d be able to take better care of your brother if I’m not here.” You explained to him.

“No, that’s not true.” He started moving closer to you. “Right now you’re the one thing keeping me sane. I can’t do all of this alone.” Now it seemed that it was Saeyoung who was starting to panic.

“Saeyoung.” You dropped the backpack onto the ground, hoping it would make him feel less panicked. “Please just, I know things are really stressful but you can’t just lash out when you’re angry.”

You walked over to him and stood face to face with him. He took your hand. He didn’t speak right away but looking at him you knew that you were going to stay.

#requests #mystic messenger #mysme #zen #yoosung kim #jaehee kang #jumin han #saeyoung choi #707 #luciel choi #mysme zen #mysme yoosung #mysme jaehee #mysme jumin #mysme 707 #mysme mc

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luverofralts · 3 years

Text

Post Arkhelios

While Ulyssa rushed back to Pleasantview to find where Roman had been assigned for his internship, Roman was having a blast in Strangetown. The school had placed him in the Strangetown orphanage, as his grandfather had embarrassed himself in front of the Pleasantview queen who now didn’t want Roman working anywhere near her, and his grades were so terrible that he hadn’t qualified for much else. Roman was really enjoying the assignment though, as Strangetown was very similar to Arkhelios, and it reminded him of home. There were all sorts of strange people here, like vampires, zombies and a coven of witches determined to fight the grim reaper. Strangetown was a giant, thriving nation, and if Roman and his grandfather could still fulfill their plans, maybe Arkhelios would look just like it someday soon.

The work wasn’t really so bad. Aside from keeping up with his assigned schoolwork, he helped manage the orphanage’s schedules, made some food and occasionally did a program for the younger kids. He was even bringing up some of his grades since he didn’t have a lot around to distract him. Grandpa was probably going to like the report card that came home for this semester.

The kids weren’t too bad either. He felt bad that none of them had parents to raise them, but when he thought about it, a lot of kids in Arkhelios were practically orphans due to parental neglect. Omar was ghosting his son in favour of his new family, and Roman didn’t even know if his mom knew where he was at the moment. The whole Chun family was a mess too. Whatever was happening with Ian was a nightmare, and Elaine barely even acknowledged Nathan. Abe vented pretty frequently to him about how little his parents seemed to care.

I wonder how Abe is doing in that weird Helios house. I can’t wait for our next school break when we can try out his new bedroom.

It was hard not having a phone to text Abe with. It was hard not being around the few people he thought of as friends too. Roman was very social by nature, even if he did tend to piss off other people constantly. Maybe if he studied his magic textbook harder, he could learn how to teleport like Ulyssa and Wanda could and see Abe more often. Now that he and Abe were re-committed to each other, Roman was really hoping to get home more often so he wouldn’t be tempted into the casual hookups he usually started. Jorah hadn’t meant anything to Roman, but he had liked making out with him at the time. His feelings for Ulyssa had always been complicated, but he didn’t regret the fling with her either. If anything, it had made them stronger friends...or maybe just acquaintances. There were times when Roman was sure Ulyssa was planning out his violent murder when she glowered at him.

Still, he was in a long distance relationship, not dead, so it was only natural that he still found people other than Abe attractive. There was a complicated flirtation with one of the older orphans that Roman was really enjoying. Nothing would come of it, as Roman was an employee, and Jordan was a resident nearly about to age out of the orphanage, but it felt nice to be flirted with.

“Roman Bellamy! You step away from that guy immediately or I swear to the Watcher that I will murder you in front of all these people! You have a boyfriend!”

Oh good, Ulyssa was here. This was clearly going to be one of their screaming encounters. Was Abe spreading news of their re-commitment around Arkhelios? How did she know that he had a boyfriend again? It was something they were very motivated to keep quiet.

“What do you want Ulyssa? Surely the dusty old Pleasantview archives or where ever you were assigned to is more interesting that traveling to another country to yell at me for having a conversation with someone.”

Her eyes narrowed dangerously.

“We need to talk. Now. In private.”

Roman sighed dramatically.

“Ok, but like you said, I have a boyfriend now so don’t get your hopes up of something happening between us again.” He smirked. “In fact, it looks kind of desperate for you to show up here out of nowhere wanting to see me in ‘private’.”

Roman could practically see the steam coming out of Ulyssa’s ears. She was so easy to rile up. It really had become one of his favourite pastimes while at school.

“You are the worst,” she seethed. “I don’t know what Abe sees in you, or how you’re fooling him into not seeing you for the giant dick you are. It is only because this is an emergency, and I happen to like Abe that I’m even still here. I just need to tell you one thing, and then you can go to hell.”

All of the fun of teasing Ulyssa drained the second they arrived in his bedroom and she said the three words that had left Roman’s world in shattered pieces.

Abe is pregnant? Abe is pregnant. Abe is pregnant!

He curled into the fetal position on his bed, and Ulyssa could finally start to see the good pieces of Roman that he hid so well from the world. The terror and concern, the actual honest feelings he had for Abe. It was written all over his face as he processed this news, and Ulyssa was glad to be the one to see her closest frenemy let down his guard so completely. She kind of liked the person Roman could sometimes be. Maybe this was the side of Roman that only Abe got to see. It would certainly explain how someone as nice as him could end up falling for someone like Roman.

“What has he said he wants to do?” Roman asked quietly. It had taken a minute to even find words again. A secret relationship was one thing, but a baby....How was he supposed to hide that?

“He didn’t say,” Ulyssa answered. Her voice was soft out of concern for this non-asshole version of Roman, but he was starting to look panicked in a way that worried her. “He wanted me to get you to teleport back home so you can talk about that. That’s something you’ll have to work out together. I don’t even think he wanted me to tell you the news directly, but you just wouldn’t shut up if I didn’t.”

Roman looked past her shoulder to the picture of him and Abe on his dresser. Abe had to be freaking out, probably even worse than he was at the moment. They were from a small community where very few secrets managed to be kept, and from two families that seemed to be driving Arkhelios into factions. What if Abe’s mom found out? What if his grandfather knew what he’d been up to with the Helios family? He’d already disappointed his grandfather so many times that Salem took his phone away and barely bothered writing him anymore. What would his grandfather do to him now?

“Roman, what are you thinking? You’re starting to scare me.”

The panic that was overwhelming him must have been obvious. His eyes darted around the room and his brain frantically tried to work up solutions but none came. What was he going to do? Where could he even go? Who could help him?

Without a single word, or an attempt to even grab any of his possessions, Roman just started running. Running felt good. He had nowhere to run to, but he couldn’t stay there in that room for a minute longer. He ran out of his room, down the hall, out the door and out of Ulyssa’s sight. Out the window she could see him get further and further away until he was just a dot on the horizon.

“Well, that didn’t go well.”

#sims 2 #arkhelios #post arkhelios #sims 2 pictures #Roman Bellamy #Abe chun #Ulyssa Durant #ts2 pictures

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sally-mun · 4 years

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I know I mentioned in another recent post that I really want to get back to doing my “shows,” but before I can get started I have a couple of other things to finish first, one of which is working on zines. The one I’m currently working on is a Ranma ½ zine, and it’s been an interesting experience -- both because of working on the zine itself, and because of my own history with this series.

That’s right, it’s time for another rip-roarin’ Sally-mun ramble!

My first encounter with Ranma ½ was on my 15th birthday. A friend of mine, one of the only other anime fans I knew because it was still relatively unknown in the US, got me the second graphic novel, which is as much as had been officially translated at the time. Going into the story with no context was confusing to say the least, but it also intrigued me enough to look up whatever info I could find on the few stray bits of internet that covered the series, and it was enough to get me hooked.

That said, I also had kind of a difficult time being a fan, because I honestly didn’t like Ranma himself. Like, at all. I found it confusing that the author would write the protagonist to be so blatantly and outwardly unlikable, and as a result I found myself just sort of looking past him and trying to follow the lives of the other characters. I was appalled at the sort of things he would say to Akane; his constant jabbing that she’s not cute, she’s stupid, no one will ever like her because she’s a tomboy, his frequent judgements of her body... I gotta say, they really resonated with me. I couldn’t help putting myself in Akane’s shoes, and in a weird way I felt personally hurt by his insults. I really admired Akane’s strength and the fact that she never let his bullying get to her, because I know it probably would’ve destroyed me. And this is just the way he treats her; I was equally uncomfortable with the way Ranma antagonizes and harasses several other characters in the series as well. I loved the series and I enjoyed following it, but there was always this uneasy feeling inside of me anytime Ranma opened his mouth.

The last time I read or watched this series was probably in my early 20′s. I worked really hard to track down all the DVD seasons (which were exceptionally rare and expensive at the time), and once I completed my set, I felt such a relief and satisfaction that I put the story down and, it turns out, I hadn’t picked it up again since. It’s been a decade or so since I was actively engaging with this series, so when I got accepted to work on this Ranma ½ zine, I’ll admit that there was a part of me that felt a mild degree of panic. Yes, I’m still a fan, but I’m not very deep in the weeds right now; I honestly wasn’t even sure if I could decently write the characters, including and especially Ranma himself. In fact, I realized, I didn’t want to write about Ranma. I didn’t want to write about a character that I probably wouldn’t willingly spend time with in real life.

In the end, however, none of that mattered, because I signed on with this zine and I needed to be an adult and honor that commitment. Since it’s been such a long time since I’ve read or watched this series anyway, I decided to binge on the anime again for the first time in all these years. And this is why I’m writing this long-ass post tonight, because even though I’m only a couple seasons in right now, I have been absolutely shocked to find that my perspective on this story has completely changed. My teenage self can’t even believe I’m saying this, but I seem to have switched sides. I now find Ranma extremely sympathetic, and Akane to be the bully.

Although there is still a part of me that feels for her when Ranma really digs in with his insults, it pales in comparison to how upset I get with Akane over her treatment of Ranma. The fact that she’ll purposefully go as far out of her way as possible to paint Ranma as a jerk is honestly something that’s interfering with my enjoyment of the show. She does have her nice moments here and there, but if any opportunity arises for Akane to scream about Ranma doing something allegedly reprehensible, she’ll take it -- no matter how many people point out the very simple and innocent alternate explanations.

With Akane relentlessly campaigning against him, it honestly comes as no surprise anymore that Ranma snaps at her and antagonizes her. It’s about all he can do to vent his frustrations sometimes, and if she’s going to depict him as a jerk no matter what, he may as well let off some steam in the process. Ranma’s situation is difficult enough just having to deal with his curse, but then to also get forcefully engaged to someone who intentionally sees the worst in him? If anything, I’m now surprised at how much he holds back. He could easily be as nasty to her as she is to him, but he actually takes it kind of easy on her, all things considered. And don’t forget, he rarely gets a break from her; they not only live together, but also go to school together. They’re in each other’s faces all the time. I’m pretty sure I’d have had a few choice things to say to her too if I were in his shoes.

It’s even more frustrating when you consider that she doesn’t even have a good reason TO be treating him this way. This all started because of a mishap that was nobody’s fault. Ranma’s not at fault, Akane’s not at fault, NO ONE is at fault here. Ranma had no reason to believe that anyone (let alone Akane) would walk in on him getting out of the bath, and Akane had no reason to think a boy would be in there. I’m sure she felt embarrassed and violated and wronged, and I DO feel for her in that regard, but that is not his fault. If, IF, IF we’re going to assign fault to anyone, it could honestly only be hers, because one could argue that Akane could’ve at least knocked or announced herself prior to joining Ranma (as a female) in the bath. Furthermore, she doesn’t even acknowledge that this mishap went both ways, as Ranma points out himself that she got a good long look at him, too. He was just as exposed as she was, but she immediately disregards his point and tells him “it’s different when a girl sees a boy,” whatever that means.

Akane is too stubborn to admit to herself that she’s the only one you even could assign blame to, too hypocritical to acknowledge that she wasn’t the only victim, and too immature to just let the damn thing go. It’s a really bad mix that becomes the driving force behind her relationship with him from day one. Akane wants retribution for the crime she’s convinced herself that Ranma committed, so she INSISTS that he’s a no-good pervert because she’s mad that no one was on her side that day. If she couldn’t convince them then, then by god she’s going to convince them eventually, which is why she just will not fucking stop trying to paint Ranma as a perverted jerk. She takes any opportunity she gets to show off his allegedly bad intentions, because to her it’s just another step closer to getting people to see she really was justified on that first day. And Ranma is forced to keep tolerating this, day in and day out, regardless of what he does or doesn’t do.

So what does all this mean?

I think this means that this series is exceptionally well-written, more than anything. At the time that I first discovered this series, I was only marginally younger than Akane herself. I related to her so strongly that I was only capable of seeing the situation from her side, and only able to relate to her emotions and her experiences. As I stated in the beginning, I felt like Ranma’s insults hurt me personally, rather than just empathizing with Akane for him hurting her. This tells me that, for all of her faults, Akane is exceptionally on-point for a girl in her mid-teens. Yes, she’s being immature and petty and unreasonable, but she’s also only 16. That’s how we are at that age, and sometimes it’s easy to forget about that once you grow past it. Teenage years are that shitty point in your life where you feel like you’re so sure that you’ve FINALLY got everything figured out, when in reality you aren’t even capable of understanding the depth of how much you don’t know. Akane holds her grudge against Ranma because she’s so sure she’s right, and she’s determined to find validation for that if it’s the last thing she does, because that’s how most of us viewed the world at 16.

But that’s one of the things that makes my revisit to this series so extraordinary: Akane’s not able to grow and change, but I am. I’ll never be able to view the series the same way I did as a teenager, because I’ve had so many new experiences and so much time to grow since then. I can certainly remember the point of view I had and why, but I’ll never actually have that same view again. I’ve learned so much more about the world, about people and relationships, about morals and ethics... all kinds of things that she can’t, because she’s necessarily frozen in time as a character in a story. Akane doesn’t get to evolve with her readers over the years, and it makes for a fascinating snapshot of where I was mentally and emotionally at that time.

I think the biggest and most critical difference between then and now is my self-esteem. When I first connected with this series, I had basically no love for myself and no confidence that anyone else would ever see anything valuable in me. I was in a place where it was not only very easy for words to hurt me, but for those words to stick with me, sometimes for years after the fact. Ranma, despite simply being a character in a book, was effortlessly able to hurt me on a particularly deep level because that’s how delicate I was at the time of reading it. He hurt me so much that I was completely unable to see his point of view; all I could see was someone being cruel for seemingly no reason, and as such I saw Akane’s treatment of him as completely justified.

20 years later, however, it now reads as a completely different story. I don’t share Akane’s kneejerk reaction to these situations anymore, and I’m more focused on thought process and reasoning. I’m more able to recognize when I’m missing information and need to investigate more, more accountable for when I’ve done something wrong, and more willing to let small things go. Hell, I have a better understanding of what “small things” even are. When I was Akane’s age, none of the incidents happening in the story seemed like small things, but now? Now I just don’t have time for that kind of minutia. It’s... wait for it... childish. Because teenagers are still children, no matter how much we didn’t want to admit it at that time.

But that’s part of the genius of how this series is written. Not only did I instantly fall into the same mental trap as Akane when I WAS her age, but now that I’m not anymore, I look back on it as just kids getting wrapped up in their microcosm of the world. No matter how much I get frustrated at Akane for being horrible to Ranma, I can’t not admit to myself that she’s not an adult yet, so in some way it’s me being the unreasonable one by trying to hold her to adult expectations. She’s still got a lot to learn because she’s still just a kid. I literally used to be just like her at one point in my life. If I was able to mature past that sort of behavior, then I’d like to think that, if Akane were able to age, then she probably would one day too.

#Ranma 1/2 #Akane Tendo #THIS WENT ON FOR A WHILE SORRY #might end up being an article later #we'll see

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alarawriting · 4 years

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52 Project #8: Crab People

The aliens had studied the world they were traveling to for years. Transmissions of primitive radio waves from the hairless, bipedal mammals’ world told the Katalk everything they needed to know. The humans, though fractious and inclined to war with one another, did not have weapons that could pierce the thick natural body armor of the Katalk. Their world was mostly ocean, in a salinity similar to the oceans of the homeworld, teeming with life. Technically, the Katalk could simply conquer the ocean, and leave the lands where the humans dwelled alone, aside from the beaches and the other land areas closest to the sea, where Katalk who enjoyed spending time on land could make their vacation homes. But because the humans themselves poured poison and garbage in that ocean, and because they valued that sea-adjacent land very highly themselves, it was determined by the High Command that the Katalk needed to subjugate humanity in order to hold the oceans of the world the natives called “Earth” in their pincers.

While the discordant, warlike humans had many separate tribes that they called “nations”, and had no unity in the governance of their world, there did appear to be one nation that dominated all the others, producing the majority of the radio transmissions that contained visual information. Radio transmissions emanating from the other nations frequently included information that had originally been transmitted from that nation. So the Katalk carefully studied that nation. Its capital was heavily guarded with flying machines carrying metal projectile ordnance—mostly a nuisance to the heavily armored ships of the Katalk, but they had not become the dominant conquerors of the galaxy by allowing a nuisance to wear at their defenses when there was a better way. Besides, the capital was on a freshwater river, not particularly near an ocean.

A short distance north and east of that capital, barely twenty skroons of travel at the speed Katalk ships could go, there was another city… on a bay. A brackish bay whose salinity was perfect for Katalk, even better than the oceans of the world, where the salt was perhaps a little overly-strong for comfort. And that city had far, far less of an active military aerial defense. The city seemed to be somewhat infamous for the number of humans killing other humans with personal ordnance, but the personal ordnance used by humans would be, again, no more than a nuisance against the hard shells of the Katalk.

The Katalk broadcast on all the radio wave frequencies that were being transmitted out of locations near the city. Some of these frequencies could apparently transmit visual information, so they recorded images of their fleet leader, flanked by his chief war captains. “Human creatures. We are the Katalk. Our weaponry is far superior to anything your species has developed, and our natural armor can resist the strongest weapons you have. We claim your world in the name of the Katalk Empire. Surrender yourselves immediately or face the consequences.”

This was broadcast in all the languages that the radio waves were transmitted in. Then the Katalk ships descended to land in the bay. It was a perfect strategic position; from within this bay, they could quickly reach the capital of this nation by water, and there were multiple large cities within their reach now.

There were hundreds, perhaps thousands, of the humans crowded up on the piers and the shoreline of the harbor, watching the ships, but there had been no response from anyone who had authority, yet. “Let us get their attention unmistakeably,” the fleet leader said, and commanded the gunner of the lead ship to destroy the top few floors of their tallest building.

The top of the building exploded, mostly vaporized, but with enough chunks of solid matter spraying out over the city that many of the humans were injured, and a few were killed – as, obviously, were the ones who’d been at the top of the building. A new broadcast went out. “We are tired of your delays! Your ruler must come and surrender to the Katalk immediately, or we will annihilate this city!”

Within ten minutes, a brown human female surrounded by an entourage of humans in policing uniforms and humans holding microphones and cameras walked out on one of the piers. “Katalk ship! I’m the mayor of Baltimore, here to discuss the surrender,” she said.

“At last,” the fleet captain said, and left, with his own entourage. He didn’t have to – in fact, some might say that the fleet captain meeting with the mayor of a conquered city was bending low to a level far beneath his status. But he had been in space for months, and wanted to take the opportunity to breathe the planet’s air for himself.

The ship floated over to the pier and laid down its gangplank so that the fleet captain could stride down onto the pier. As he did so, he heard someone – not the mayor, but someone in her entourage – say “Oh my god, they look just like giant crabs!”

“We are not like any of your pathetic Earth life!” the fleet captain’s chief aide said. “We are superior beings, and you will treat us as such!”

“Of course,” the mayor said. “Please forgive my aide, he was just startled. You do bear a strong coincidental resemblance to an Earth life form called a ‘crab’, which is one of the most common and enduring symbols of our city. I feel as if God must have intended for you to come here to Baltimore as your first experience of our world.” She bowed deeply. “May we exchange names? I—”

“We may not,” the fleet captain said brusquely, interrupting the mayor. “It is taboo among the Katalk to share names.”

“Oh,” the mayor said, her face and tone showing the pattern humans exhibited when they felt surprise. “How do you tell each other apart, then?”

“We address each other by title. I am the Fleet Captain of the Katalk Expeditionary Fleet to the Sol System. These are my aides. I do not actually care who your servants or assistants are. You are here to surrender.”

“I most certainly am,” the mayor said. “I can take you to the place where we run our government right now. But I’d like to invite you to a ceremony tomorrow night, a ceremony we perform for our most honored leaders.” She bowed again.

“Describe this ceremony,” the fleet captain barked.

“We begin by inviting all of your crew to watch you be honored at the ceremony. We give you a ceremonial key that represents control of this city. Then we anoint you and your crew with herbs and spices that smell beautiful to us, and bathe you.”

This wasn’t the behavior the fleet captain had expected. Usually primitive races attempted to use violence to harm the Katalk, and needed to be taught a harsh lesson before their subjugation. And every human fiction broadcast on the radio waves from their planet, and every story of what was actually happening on their planet, said that this was what humans did as well. Yet the human woman was treating the Katalk as honored rulers of high status. Could it be that, because the humans of this city venerated a creature that looked much like the Katalk, they were prepared to accept Katalk rule near-bloodlessly?

That would be excellent. It was always best to take the primitive natives as slaves rather than destroying them. They would best understand the wildlife and the vegetation and how to utilize them as food.

“We will accept your ceremony of honor,” the fleet captain said.

He allowed the woman to guide him and his entourage to the place called City Hall, where she introduced him to many humans, by their titles only, and attempted to show him how to do the paperwork. He used his side weapon and vaporized the paperwork. “Your bureaucracy means nothing to me,” he snapped, claws clacking. “We will rule as we see fit.”

“Of course, my lord Fleet Captain.” The mayor bowed again. “Let me make arrangements for your ceremonial anointing tomorrow.”

She slipped away, leaving an aide to explain things the Fleet Captain did not need explained. Why would the Katalk care about humans having parking permits?

***

Interlude:

Come to Baltimore, and walk downtown, and perhaps you might be fooled into thinking there is an underground subway system, or something of that nature, because you’ve seen steam rising from vents in the streets and sidewalks. But it’s something else that causes the steam.

Beneath the streets of Baltimore, in the downtown area, there are pipes that feed chilled water, hot water, and steam to businesses in the area. These connect to heating and cooling systems in the local buildings.

Naturally, there are no buildings where the steam comes into the open areas where people are.

There are many engineers who work in Baltimore, for the energy company that supplies the steam, who would know how to redirect the steam. It might be a very difficult task. It might cause excessive cursing, and complaining about short notice, and overtime work. But if the mayor needed steam to be somewhere that it usually is not, and was willing to commit to whatever the cost would be, there are engineers who work for the energy company that supplies the steam, and they could do it. ***

The conquest was going well. Wherever the Katalk went, the humans pointed and made sounds of amazement. The mayor was incredibly deferential, and humans moved smoothly out of the way as the Katalk approached.

One of the fleet captain’s aides overhead the mayor speaking on a telephone, one that was connected by a wire rather than one of the ones that transmitted by radio waves. “No, Mr. President, there’s no need. No, we have the situation under control… Yes, that’s right. They’re right outside my office. I’ll let them know to expect you to arrive and surrender to them after the anointment ceremony… sir, it’s a Baltimore thing, don’t worry about it.” She hung the phone back on its cradle and looked up. “I’ve made all the arrangements! The ruler of our nation will be here to surrender formally to you after the ceremony! He wanted to send troops to fight you, but of course I told him that would be futile; your technology is far too advanced, so he’s agreed to surrender.”

“If you are planning some sort of sneak attack or subterfuge, this city will be destroyed,” the fleet captain said when he was told what the mayor had been doing.

“Of course! Don’t worry, I know I couldn’t outthink you. You must be far more intelligent than humans, with such advanced technology.”

“See that you remember it,” the fleet captain said.

***

The place where the ceremony was to be done had the sign “ROYAL FARMS ARENA” in large letters on the front of the building. “What does this mean, Royal Farms?” the fleet captain asked.

“It’s a figure of speech. The idea is that we grow a king or queen into their power and potential, the way that farmers grow plants,” the mayor said. “That’s why we hold the ceremony there.”

All of the Katalk filed in, with the exception of those who’d been left behind on the ships, one or two per ship, per regulations – they couldn’t have humans sneaking aboard the ships while they were all gone, after all. There were nearly six hundred Katalk coming into the ceremony. “We do ask that you leave your weapons here, at the front,” the mayor said. “Of course you can easily retrieve them if you need them, and it’s hardly as if humans are any kind of threat to you, but it’s symbolism.”

The fleet captain considered telling the mayor that he didn’t care about human symbolism, but decided to humor her.

As each Katalk entered the arena, several humans sprinkled large quantities of a strange-smelling orange powder over them, from tubs labeled “Old Bay.” “Our research on your radio wave broadcasts revealed that you have a product you refer to as ‘Old Spice’,” the chief researcher on humanity said to the mayor. “Is this similar?”

“It’s very similar, but this is the Baltimore version. We call the spice mix ‘Old Bay’ because we’re on a bay,” the mayor said.

The researcher touched his two large claws together in the gesture the Katalk used to express sudden understanding, or acknowledgement of a truth. “Sir, it makes sense,” he said to the fleet captain. “I haven’t seen anything about this specific ceremony, but I do know that highly honored culture leaders called ‘celebrities’ are often invited to ceremonies at arenas like this, and I also know that ‘Old Spice’ is considered a scent compound that is highly desirable and is seen as making the males of the species superior to those who are not scented with it.”

“Understood,” the fleet captain said.

After all the Katalk were in the room, the mayor went to the stage and spoke into a microphone, which was broadcast throughout the arena. “Our honored crab overlords, the Katalk, are here to be given the keys to our city, and to be anointed with the sacred Old Bay and bathed in the traditional manner. Let us give thanks that they came to Baltimore before any other city on Earth!” She called the fleet captain to the stage. “We are very, very pleased you have come to us,” she said. “Please accept this symbolic token of our surrender to your leadership.” She had two aides show him a ridiculously huge key.

The researcher whispered, “It ties out; they used to have walled cities to protect themselves from marauding humans. Since then, the ‘key to the city’ seems to represent a great honor.”

The fleet captain clacked his claws against each other in acknowledgement, and stepped on the stage. “Humans, your days of self rule are at an end, but if you continue to cooperate and embrace our rule as eagerly as you have done, you will be spared and allowed to continue to live and serve us.”

There was dead silence from the humans, and then the mayor said, “Let’s hear it for the Katalk!” All the humans started slapping their hands together loudly, which looked much like the human version of the Katalk acknowledgement gesture. The fleet captain assumed that they were signifying that they understood and accepted their fate.

“Now, for the ceremonial bath,” the mayor said. “We’ll let some cleansing steam into the room. It’ll really make your carapaces shine and bring out the scent of the Old Bay beautifully. We humans won’t be present for this, because it’s a taboo among our people to see someone else bathe unless they’re our mates. As soon as the bath is over, we’ll return, and take you to the places you’ll need to be after that.”

“And tomorrow your nation’s ruler will surrender to us as well?”

“He’s told me so, and none of the ruling class of America would ever dare lie to anyone as powerful and intelligent as you.”

“That sounds a bit dubious,” the researcher whispered. “Apparently their rulers frequently lie, according to the radio waves, and make promises they cannot or choose not to keep.”

“It’s no matter. If the nation’s ruler doesn’t come tomorrow to surrender, we will move on their capital, using this city as our base, and force him to his knees.”

The humans bowed as they left the room. The mayor said, “I eagerly look forward to meeting with you after your bath, fleet captain! No one in Baltimore can imagine anything more enjoyable than spending time serving you.”

The mayor’s obsequiousness was starting to get on the fleet captain’s nerves. “Just go. Let this bath begin so it can be over with.”

She left, and the doors to the arena were closed, as would obviously be necessary if there was to be a steam bath. “Let’s see if this steam bath is all that the humans say it is,” the fleet captain said.

The researcher said, “It is something they speak of highly in their radio waves. They also enjoy spending time in desiccating rooms where it is very hot but there is no steam, and in tubs of hot water. They are much more comfortable with water than we would expect from land mammals.”

The steam came in from under the seats. When the captain sent an aide to tell him how it was being done, he reported that it looked like there were dozens of pipes that had been hastily inserted into the walls. Steam rolled in from the pipes, and it was pleasant; the weather on this planet was chillier than the Katalk homeworld. The fleet captain relaxed and let himself enjoy the warmth, as the rest of the Katalk did the same.

But then the warmth began to grow uncomfortable. “It’s time we left,” he said. “If the humans haven’t come to bring us out, we will just go on our own. We don’t bow to their timetables.”

Two Katalk went to open the doors. They didn’t open.

More steam rolled in.

Katalk started desperately searching for doors, trying to batter the doors down when they found them, or bash holes in the walls with their powerful claws. The steam rose. Katalk fled up the stair-step seating, trying to find a place out of the heat. The steam rose. Swirls of it fogged the room and made it hard to see one’s fellow Katalk.

The fleet captain commanded that they form a giant pile and try to reach the roof. It was plain that the humans had betrayed them and lied to them, and had locked them in, but perhaps there was a way to escape via the roof.

Military discipline broke down completely. None of the Katalk wanted to be on the bottom of the pile where the steam was hottest and thickest. They climbed over each other frantically, sometimes ripping each other’s claws out in their fervor to climb higher than their fellows. The fleet captain bellowed orders, that were ignored.

It was so very hot.

***

Outside the Royal Farms arena, the mayor smiled grimly at the doors, which had been quickly screwed to a large piece of corrugated steel, so even if the doors gave way under the Katalk claws, there would still be no escape. “My son worked on the top floors of the Transamerica building, you sons of bitches,” she said, her voice quiet but her tone vicious. “Burn in hell… once you’re done boiling alive.”

She turned toward the crowd behind her. “Citizens of Baltimore, in about forty-five minutes, we’re going to have the biggest crab feast this city has ever seen, here at Royal Farms arena. And then our National Guard, who’ve been dispatched down here by the governor, are going to take these guns and use them to root out any of these crab people who might have stayed behind on their spaceships.”

“What are we gonna do with the spaceships?” a man in the crowd yelled.

“What else would we do with the spaceships? We’re gonna use them to go to space,” the mayor said. “Prepare to enter a new era of jobs and industry for Baltimore, all courtesy of our tasty friends in there.”

More and more people gathered at the Royal Farms Arena over the next forty-five minutes, milling around excitedly. Eventually, the steam was cut off. The mayor gestured at the sealed doors.

“Everyone! Please step out of the way to let the caterers through. They’ve been preparing corn on the cob for us to enjoy with our feast, all day long, because you can’t have a real crab feast without corn on the cob. And I’ve asked hardware stores around the city to donate hammers, because I think those shells are a good bit harder than we’re used to, and our wooden mallets probably won’t be enough to do the job.”

Everyone cheered and backed out of the way as the caterers wheeled forward large tables covered with brown paper, actual hammers, butter dishes, and stacks of corn on the cob, and the firefighters unsealed the doors. Steam escaped through the open doors, into the air, up and away from the waiting crowd. The appetizing scent of Old Bay wafted out, as the caterers waited for all the steam to clear before going through the door to prepare for the crowd.

It was going to be the crab feast to end all crab feasts.

“Save at least one for the president,” the mayor said to the catering manager. “I promised him one when he comes tomorrow.”

#52 project #baltimore #science fiction #comedy #time for crab #please imagine that this president is not trump #things probably would have gone a lot worse had he been prez

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realllllfangirllllll · 5 years

Text

Beyond Lovers || Chp. 19

{More Than Friends Sequel}

Chairman!Jaehyun AU x CEO!Reader AU

Summary: You find yourself falling deeper and deeper in love with the former CEO after overcoming your fear of love. Although there were rough patches, both of you are now stronger than ever. However, you realize that maintaining a relationship and a company at the same time can be very difficult, especially if someone is out to destroy the both of you.

Masterlist

{Previous / Next }

"Ow ow ow! That hurts.”

You glared at him, sending him daggers that could kill. In a scolding voice, you asked, “Then why did you let Xiaojun almost kill you? We both know you are more than capable of defending yourself, Jung Yoonoh.”

He stared down at the bedsheets, ignoring your question. It wasn’t until you pressed the towel against the bruise on his cheekbone that he started talking again. “Ok ok fine! What was I supposed to do? Hit your brother back?” His voice then lowered, his frame suddenly drooping, “And besides, I deserved it.”

Your hand stopped tending to the blood dripping down the side of his face. The lingering guilt crept in again. Jaehyun was gazing around your shared bedroom. He looked at the bedsheets, the mug steaming with tea on the bedside table, and to the door that was slightly cracked opened. He looked anywhere but at you. Both of you stayed like that for a while. Trying to interpret who was at fault, who should be feeling guilty and who shouldn’t. The hurt and frustration lingering between the two of you. The room’s tension was growing with intensity. Who should apologize first? Apologize for what? Why should they apologize first?

A series of thoughts ran through your mind, just as you were about to speak up, Jaehyun beat you to it. For once, he was looking at you, staring into your eyes. From his sorrowful gaze to yours, he gently placed his hand on top of yours. You heard him whisper as if he was scared to break the air, “Y/n y/l/n, I would never want to hurt you. I would rather hurt myself than to hurt you. Ever.”

With a slight crack in your voice, you asked, “Why?”

“I love you too much,” you felt his warm hands on your cheek and you unconsciously leaned toward it, “I love you more than I love myself. I can be hurt, but you can never be hurt,” you felt his thumb tremble slightly as he brushed it across your face, “The world has hurt you enough.”

Those were the words. Those were the words you’ve been wanting to hear. It was different than telling it to yourself. Words of comfort meant nothing when it came from your imagination. You were unsure of whether Jaehyun actually cared for you. You were afraid his feelings were only temporary, and it has already begun to fade away with time.

A single tear slid down your soft cheek. You tried your best to hold in any other tears in your eyes as you asked with a heavy aching in your heart, “Then why? Why did you resort to that?” You turned your head slowly toward the direction of the wall that Jaehyun imprinted a dent onto.

Jaehyun followed your gaze and tears immediately fell down his cheeks. A hole was burned through his heart at the words that came out of your mouth. It was the bitter truth. Everything else just seemed like a lousy excuse. His voice cracked as he looked at your distressed face, “I-i’m so s-sorry y/n…”

Another tear rolled down your face as you saw your boyfriend break down. You cleared your throat as best as possible and said sternly, “I don’t want a sorry. I want an explanation. We can’t keep running away from what happened…”

“B-but it’s going to s-sound like an excuse…”

“Jaehyun, I don’t care. I want to know why. Don’t you think I at least deserve to know that?”

You stared at him expectantly as he took a deep breath and let out whatever he held back, “I-I tried to p-protect you…”

He knew the moment that word came out his mouth that everything would go back to square one. But no matter what happens, he had to let you know that this was exactly why he was so angry. No matter how absurd and contradicting it sounded, he had to let you know.

You scoffed, first Jaemin, and now Jaehyun. The world seemed odd to you. Why, in whatever twisted world, would Jaehyun be protecting you if you were almost hurt by his own actions? You felt a headache approach you and you couldn’t handle this conversation anymore. Right on queue, you heard the doorbell ring. Leaving after a deep sigh, you saw Jaehyun over your shoulders, having an internal battle with himself. It pained you to see him like that in his already beaten up condition, but you weren’t willing to resolve this if it meant he’d be giving the same, vague answers in response to your frustrations.

The door opened and revealed someone you were glad to see--Yuta.

“Hey doll, I got what you needed.” He held up a paper bag and you let out a breath of relief.

“Thank you, Yuta, really. We will get to our conversation after this, I promise.”

You grabbed the bag and turned to walk back into where Jaehyun was but you felt Yuta grab your wrist.

“Wait y/n, I brought someone with me. I think you guys need to work things out first.”

He stepped aside and Soojin appeared next to him. Your eyes widened, not ready to have two tough conversations in the span of an hour. However, Yuta swiftly grabbed the paper bag from you and headed to your bedroom, leaving the two of you alone.

Soojin gave you a weak smile, “Hey…”

You didn’t bother to greet her as you turned around and walked towards the couch. Soojin took a seat adjacent from you on the armchair, too guilty to sit too close to you. The living room was large but the tension that filled it was even larger. The two of you were silent for quite a while before Soojin finally mustered up her courage to speak.

Her voice was small as she confessed, “I really wasn’t thinking when I called Xiaojun, sorry y/n. I never wanted to see you hurt like this... Is your leg ok?”

She reached down to hold your ankle for inspection, but you flinched in pain.

“Ow ow ow stop!”

She quickly raised her hands up as if she was caught in the middle of a crime, “Sorry! I didn’t know it was that bad…”

You muttered, “Well maybe you should tell my darn brother about this…”

Soojin’s ears perked up, “He doesn’t know? Was he that angry?”

You scoffed getting ready to expose your brother’s true colors, “Yes, to your second question. But for the first question, no. He knows yet he still decides to ignore it and tells me to stay away from Jaehyun instead.”

Soojin gave you a small “oh.”

Your anger and frustration started to boil again so you continued to vent, “You know, I really thought Jaehyun would be the one. The one who would finally stop my picky, protective, brother. At first, I had high hopes. Even when Emily caused such a ruckus, Jaehyun, as if by magic, has convinced Xiaojun, and they were quite close to each other. But what changed? Oh! I know. You. You just had to tell Xiaojun that Jaehyun hit me! Even though he didn’t, might I add.”

She guiltily nodded her head. When she tried to speak up, you cut her off. You were too angry to stop your rant. You wanted to let everything out.

“Look Soojin. Did you not know Xiaojun is a dick to any guy who comes near me? Remember Jack? Yes. I admit he was a douche and deserved that beating from Xiaojun when I found out he was cheating, but the point is, Xiaojun is crazy! Do you know how scared I was when I saw him land a punch on Jaehyun? He may seem skinny and all, but he can really fight. I was so scared Jaehyun would pass out, and Jaehyun has beaten up many people. Not that I’m condoning any of their behaviors,” you scoffed, “But boys would always just be boys.”

You let out a huff after finishing your long rant. You looked at Soojin and saw her laughing to herself. You sent her a frustrated look, “This isn’t funny Soo!”

Almost immediately, she stifled her laughter and gave you a serious expression, “You’re right.” But then she gave you a wide grin and told you, “I’m glad you called me Soo again.”

You rolled your eyes at her, “Shut up. I’m still mad at you, but it was just hard to not talk to my venting buddy when I’m so angry and frustrated right now.”

She chuckled, moving to sit next to you on the comfy sofa, “You know, I’m glad to see you ranting like this. It shows that you really love Jaehyun. I know now that I don’t have to worry. So again, sorry for causing all this mess. I was dumb to even be a bit skeptical of Jaehyun.”

Scoffing at her words, you told her, “You should be skeptical of him. I am.”

Soojin raised her eyebrows, hinting at you for more details. You started to tell her Jaehyun’s contradictory behavior before you heard a loud noise in the direction of your bedroom. You and Soojin immediately rushed to the noise.

“What the fuck Jaehyun!” Your eyes widen as you swore at him.

You saw the shattered tea mug lying on the floor beside Yuta’s feet. Looking up at him, you expected to see a horrified Yuta, but instead, you saw his sly smile.

“So doll, you’re telling me this is the guy who got beat up by your stick of a brother?”

You rolled your eyes, “Wipe that grin off your face Nakamoto. And you,” you pointed to your boyfriend, “What the fuck??!”

Jaehyun was steaming and ready to get up, but he quickly sat back down, clutching onto his bruised rib. You were fuming just as much as Jaehyun. Even to this day, he was still just as aggressive towards Yuta. You didn’t understand why and you were willing to get the explanation out of him.

You somehow sorted out your problems with Soojin and you were suddenly determined to settle your situation with Jaehyun. As if she read your mind, Soojin gestured for Yuta to follow her out of the bedroom. Yuta rolled his eyes, following behind her.

You waited until they both left and turned to Jaehyun with both arms on your hips, “I don’t have any patience with you anymore. Jung Yoonoh you better spill everything you’re holding back today or you won't ever see me again.”

———

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awesometurtletails · 4 years

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One does not after all, stop a volcano from erupting once it starts.

@mydetheturk you are a horrible perfect enabler, this is all on you!

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

It's hard to get her angry. Melvina often gets annoyed and yells yes, but angry? Oh no. That's always been slow and thick and covers everything around her, scalding those who tried to keep hurting her. (She's 9 the first time, power lashing out and rolling over the fake bandits and pirates who burn her home to the ground. When she regains herself it was to the sight of her sister in her arms; dead, twin link severed and aching like a lost limb and a crowd of dead marines playing bandit.)

(Her mother had always said she got her father's temper. Her father, a man who was as steady and grounded as a mountain, would always laugh at her confusion. Would mess with her hair and quietly say that yes, he did get mad but it took a lot to set him off. That's what mama meant, sweetheart.)

After that night it takes a long time for her to get angry again. She has more control and has more important things to do then burn and boil in anger for people she doesn't trust. Let them burn themselves out against the rocky slopes she hides behind. It was, after all, going to take time to find the traitor and she would burn, slow and thick then.

Except, someone finds a weakness without even trying. Barges in to her mountainous hold like he owns the place and ends up dragging her out with the tide. There she gets attached again. There she takes a look at the motley crew and see's all the same broken damage she feels everyday. How this man, this captain, took them all the same and said MINE to the rest of the world. She's dragged into pranks, and chased around the ship by two painfully young cabin boys. (Twelve years old and she feels 30 to their seven, broken and hollow and alone.) There, with this Captain and the cabin boys and even the First Mate and Doctor she whispers it quietly. Mine.

(Rayleigh was unsure of her, a far to young girl with far to old eyes. She's quiet for so long before finally pranking the brats back that he fears she's far to broken for once. That his Captain finally found one he liked but couldn't save. Doc called her a menace and nothing but trouble the moment he saw her, catching the sight of how she carefully looks everyone over and pulling her into the apprentice position.)

That's how it started. The quiet bubbling and simmering as she gained new precious people who won't ever replace her old ones but they help her not feel alone. It grew with everyday spent with them, the depth of her anger and rage. Fierce protective anger gets poured into the hollow in her soul when she looks at those two cabin boys and quietly whispers brothers to herself. Every slight against them adds another cup.

Determined searing rage was sprinkled in the few times her Captain was insulted. It seeps into cracks in the rocks and mostly settles on the bottom. Her Captain can handle his own after all. (It seeps out in little steaming vents when she finds ways to make the Marines, who survive meeting Captain, life interesting.)

Small hurts and betrayals, slights that were never meant but get said anyway, barely even float on the surface before they burn off in the face of her real anger.

No, what adds to it are the things she hates. Things that burn and ache and leave her nearly drowning in pain.

Doc's death, who fought and fought and fought so she could run with Shanks and Buggy back to Captain. Because of fucking people who claim to be gods and wanted Shanks for his hair and Buggy for his fruit and her for her eyes.

Her Captains capture and following death. Even if he was dying and neither she nor her new mentor, Crocus, could do anything about it. (She at least gets his consent about gathering what data she can while helping him. Even if Captain dies before she can find something, Captain knows she lives by holding her pain close and shouting to the world NO ONE ELSE HURTS!)

Then the good byes to Oden, a man she had watched with wary eyes for longer than the crew did. Who only finally trusted him when he told her begged to come to Wano and show off her Ninja and chakra skills to his friend when the boarders opened. (She waits and worries even when years later she finally manages to deliver a letter to Whitebeard from Oden.)

The crew disbanded and she was left adrift with two grieving teenagers and forced to stuff her own grief deep within to keep them alive. (A possible true betrayal sits on the back of her tongue like a rotten fish but she can't stop and try to contact someone, anyone, for help because Captain's enemies are many and they are only three.)

When she was forced to make a choice and drives away the last one chasing them while the boys run to one of the few surviving members of her blood kin. When that action separated them and she does not know how or where to find them but knows the boys were safe and alive.

All of those add to her soul and fill her rage up but it still doesn't boil over. It simmers and bubbles and burns while she keeps going. New people are added to her circle, some by chance and because their just far to cute.

(Ace from Dadan, who gives him over far more reluctantly then she would ever admit to but with the words you have no connection to him, he'll be safer on her lips. Because the Marines never caught her face, because Captain wasn't a fool like everyone though and apprentice and cabin boys where jealously hidden from view.)

(Luffy from Dragon, who nearly lingers to long to see his son one last time before they had to part. Who heard whispers and rumors about who to go to if you wanted a child protected and there maybe few Sondovel's left but Melvina is just as fierce and protective as her family name implies.)

(Sabo from a garbage heap, that gives him up nearly reluctantly when two boys wander off their mother's ship. A mother who had returned to Dawn to get the truth because her eldest kept falling asleep and finds them later standing their ground against pirates with the boy.)

And some because she sees the same broken and daring soul staring back at her.

(Two former Marines who each brake the law in someway for children who are not their own. A baby mink who just wanted his brother. The minks attackers who know no other way of life but are willing to try anyway. A blacksmith who smashed the head of a marine captain who tried to touch and lay with her two apprentices. And even Melvina's own brothers, who she finds and they find her in return.)

She gains a family and crew for a third time and this time she vows to not let them burn. Not to let them die. So her rage remains dormant, bubbling and simmering as she sails and it's always there. More is added as her boys grow and she has to let them go. (She hopes she did them better then she was even done.)

It bubbles up a few times, against a Shark Fishman who thinks to take over an island that holds her youngest's friend. She doesn't hold back and nearly grinds him into the ground when she arrives. Against a Madman who was brothers to a tripping hazard, who would kill and burn such bonds just because he couldn't stand to see family be different. He lives only because the little brother he now hated asked her if she could try. Nearly against her still living mentor when she goes to him and he refuses her. She only stops because her son's are there.

Until it finally it builds and builds and burns when the news paper comes out. When her eldest is labeled the Pirate Kings son and her brother sits next to him on the executioners platform. When the Marines finally cross a line she naively thought they wouldn't, naively hoped they wouldn't.

When war starts and the prize is her son and brother. When Whitebeard's sons try to send her away, but not the old man. The old man see's what his sons miss, knows the power of parents rage and lets her and her crew be.

Then the shot that nearly kills Buggy and Akainu's fist nearly impales Ace and it explodes. It burns and runs, hot and thick over everything. She uses every last ounce of her chakra and knowledge to fight back against the world. Her Snakes and Spiders come at her call and she burns and buries anyone trying to stop her. It doesn't stop when she feels her family now safely behind her on the sea. One does not after all, stop a volcano from erupting once it starts and she will bury every last enemy there, will burn them in her rage and anger and fear before she loses anyone else.

#One Piece Fic #Mine #turtle writes #Ouch the feels #This is Bridg's fault!#And Stereden's #But Bridg started it!#My turn with the Angst/feels bat #Pirate Mom #OP with a touch of Naruto for REAL Ninja's #Marineford

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bigskydreaming · 4 years

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Two Qs, 1. How do I stop people from assuming I'm ableist n hate me for it if a character I Hate for TONS of petty+ serious reasons just happens to be a disabled character? Like if they were a brain in a jar with a mouthpiece I'd still not be in their vicinity without setting my head on fire it has nothing to do with their body or gender or skills etc. And 2. How do you post a fic w/o fear of some lurker stealing ideas n publishing it as a novel n becoming popular I mean... like CC exists......

Here’s the thing….there’s never ever going to be a person who manages to make it through life without being misconstrued on SOME subject. We have no control over what other people think about us, only on what we put out there for them to perceive and form opinions on. And sometimes those opinions are entirely contrary to what we feel we’re putting out there, and that sucks and can be aggravating as hell, and you might need to vent about that or groan to yourself or a friend or maybe it’ll make you bitter and petty on a subject, but at the end of the day - it doesn’t matter. You can’t ENSURE someone has the opinion about you and what you’re putting out there that you want them to have, and you just gotta find a way to be okay with that.

And there’s really no way around it, you just kinda gotta….figure out a way to make that happen. And its easier said than done, for sure, and its far from a sure thing, I bitch and moan constantly about people getting me wrong on various subjects because hoo boy do I seem to get a lot of people steamed about opinions I don’t actually have lolololol. So like I said, I get it, its frustrating as hell, when you’re absolutely sure the opinion they’re expressing of you is not based on something you’ve actually said or believe.

BUT.

But but but but but.

Before you go raring off to the races getting frustrated and fed up with a person because they seem just determined not to hear what you’re truly trying to say on a subject…..double check, triple check, make crystal fucking clear that you’ve reviewed what you’ve ACTUALLY said - not just what you think you said, not what you meant to say in your head, but rereading back to yourself what you ACTUALLY have said on the subject - and make 100% sure that they’re not picking up on something that YOU YOURSELF DIDN’T PICK UP ON WHEN EXPRESSING AN OPINION.

Because that happens. All the time. To all of us.

And just because we didn’t MEAN to put any ableism or racism or homophobia or sexism in there, that doesn’t mean that some didn’t slip in any way without our realizing not. We all grow up steeped in environments that are chock full of all those things and more, they inform and influence so many more of our opinions and choices and decisions than even we realize. And just because we don’t THINK of ourselves as being any of the above, doesn’t mean that we haven’t at any point expressed certain viewpoints or said certain things or performed certain actions…..that in and of themselves are ableist or racist or homophobic or sexist or transphobic or any of the above or more.

And just because we didn’t notice it was there didn’t mean it wasn’t there, and THAT could be what they’re picking up on…..and while that one instance of harmful thinking/speech/action isn’t necessarily representative of who you are as a whole…..to someone who only knows you via certain limited interactions, that one instance is a far greater slice of the pie, so there’s no real reason for them NOT to assume that’s representative of you overall, rather than an exception that only slipped through the cracks because you didn’t realize it was there.

So if you genuinely, truly don’t believe you’re ableist in your thinking or opinions and thus don’t want anyone to assume that of you, the only way to really do that is NOT to assume that nothing you say or do is ableist because you know yourself and know that you’re not an ableist person.

Rather, the thing to do is each and every time someone accuses you of that, like….take the time to review what you ACTUALLY said or did that they’re responding to, and double check that its not actually ableist. Reaffirm if only to yourself that you stand by what you said or did and that you said or did it for the right reasons and not what they’re presuming. It really doesn’t cost you that much time or energy to do that check-up on yourself….and the end result is that it doesn’t mean that you’re going to be able to change that person’s mind about you - if you said what you meant to say originally, and after reviewing it still stand by it, chances are, they’re probably interpreting you the way they are for their own reasons, and there’s not much any of us can do about that.

But at least you can be sure then that no matter what someone else thinks, YOU are comfortable with your reasons for feeling a certain way about certain characters or whomever…….and that ultimately is all that really matters. All that we have control over, and what we have to fall back on even when people are pissing us the hell off because they seem bound and determined to interpret us wrong - and truuuuuuust me, I mean it when I say I get that, lol.

But you gotta do the work. There’s no shorthand, not if you’re genuinely sincere about NOT wanting to be the thing that they think you’re being. None of us can unilaterally just….decide not to be ableist or something like similar, and TRUST that deciding not to be that thing ACTUALLY means that no ableist or similar thinking is ever going to sneak into our opinions or actions regardless.

So ultimately, my best advice is just to remember to listen just as much as you pay attention to what you say and put out there….because no matter how certain you are of your own nature overall, that doesn’t mean that individual actions and speech can’t get away from you…..and it doesn’t hurt you to be open to being told you did or said something ableist even if unintentionally. Rather, if you genuinely don’t want to be ableist, its to your BENEFIT, to be told when you unintentionally put something ableist into something you said or did or wrote…..so that you can be aware, and thus make sure not to do the same thing again….since if you were already aware of its ableism, you would never have put it in or said it in the first place.

So I mean, I guess its just about…..trust in yourself when you truly believe you’re right, after re-checking your math or the equivalent….but just as important, don’t be afraid to be wrong, if your real priority isn’t being ‘right’ about not being what they think you are, but instead just being or BECOMING ‘better’ than they think you are.

2) As to your second question, just do it, Nike slogan or not. LOL. Sorry, but there is no real means of protecting your ideas because ideas can’t be copyrighted - that’s how someone like CC gets away with what she did. Similar advice to what I just said above…..just trust in your own ingenuity. Don’t focus so much on the importance of having singular ideas or stories that nobody else has anything like, because there’s nothing truly new under the sun….other than execution. Only the way YOU execute an idea and unfold it over the course of an entire story is ever going to be truly unique, because any single idea can be taken in any of a million different directions. And the more you allow your own creativity to be about more than just a single idea or premise you had, the more its going to become distinct as YOUR creativity, YOUR execution of your various ideas, no matter how many other people do stories of similar premises.

‘Real’ writers get ripped off all the time, and it sucks, but its never stopped any that I’ve ever met, because the thing about real writers is they don’t NEED to rip off anyone else’s ideas….because they’ve got more than just one. And anyone who can come up with an idea for a story in the first place, rather than just stealing someone else’s, can come up with a second one, and a third. I truly believe that. There’s no imagination that only has a one-story limit…..just people who lack so much imagination or faith in their own imagination they default to stealing others’ in the first place.

Trust in your own uniqueness as a person and have faith that will imbue your execution of any story idea with enough unique elements or flavor that it’ll still be distinctly yours even if someone else rips off the basic premise. Once you give yourself permission to just….not be afraid of someone ripping you off, because you know that EVEN IF that should happen, you’d be okay because you’d still have other ideas, more stories to write……I PROMISE you, the fear of someone lurking around and waiting to rip you off will vanish completely. It doesn’t mean that such a person won’t still be out there. It doesn’t mean that someone won’t still try and steal one of your ideas somewhere down the line. But it does mean that even if they do, it won’t matter….because unlike them, you’re more than just one single idea.

And if someone actually rips off your execution of an idea, ie plagiarizes your actual story? That’s a different matter, but there are recourses for that. I mean, the mere fact of being able to point to your story existing in some form before they ever brought out their ripped off version of yours means that at the very least, you can torpedo their credibility. The only way to truly LEGALLY be protected in case of actual plagiarism is to copyright something, and you can’t copyright a fanfic for instance, since you don’t own the intellectual property, and you can’t copyright your premise since as I said above, nobody can copyright an idea, so honestly, I really do say and believe you’re better off just….not worrying about it. If it happens, there are ways to address it then, but building it up as an inevitable or even a likely hypothetical usually just acts as a form of self-sabotage convincing us there’s one more reason not to put ourselves and our work out there.

And that is SO much more devastating to your career as a writer or even just a fanwriter, than someone potentially ripping off one story of yours…….because it means you never put ANY stories out there, just for the sake of protecting even just that hypothetical singular one.

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forestfairyunicorn · 5 years

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@niuniente Entrapdak Secret Santa 2019 gift fic to @mysticqueen-bee! Hope you enjoy; one prompt was the best fic idea and ran away with me~ Happy Holidays!

Contrary to popular belief, Hordak is aware of most Etherian holidays.

He was aware of some during his time with Horde Prime. A passing fancy, as some cultures are determined to have their holiday as it was literally their livelihood. At the time, he did research into the subject, and sometimes there’s a pattern of togetherness and occasional superstition.

While as the ones on Etheria are not as extreme, he did have one or two determined soldiers request time off. A quiet request here, a spying there, and Hordak once discovered through Imp a closed off holiday party celebrating Snowrest.

From that, Hordak surmised what Snowrest is: loud, boisterous, well-wishing for the new year and a tradition of ‘driving off the Bonechill Specters.’ In other words, just like all the other holidays he was aware of and doesn’t care. He allowed some holidays as requested, but only within good reason. The last thing he wanted was some inefficient soldiers messing up a plan.

So when Entrapta mentioned Snowrest, Hordak pricked his ears at that.

They were in his Sanctum, Hordak tinkering at a small plan while Entrapta was off to the side, working on her own project while humming a familiar tune. The robot Emily chirped along, which was, Hordak admit to no one, endearing.

Entrapta finished the song with a final note, and a laugh. “My favourite Snowrest song! Always a good one.”

“Snowrest?” Hordak inquired, looking up at her.

��An annual holiday about celebrating the biggest snowfall of the year, so that winter will end and the new year will bring a better harvest, a better time, a fruitful year. Sometimes there’s decorations, singing, lots of lights, snowfalls, ice sculptures, festivals, plays, gift exchanging, and so much sweets!” Entrapta ended the last word with laughter as she was caught up in the excitement. Her hair propelled her around, her joy apparent.

And then she stopped. “Well, at least that’s how I remembered it.”

Hordak frowned. From her description, Snowrest seemed more than the party he recalled. “Do you still celebrate it?”

Entrapta shrugged, getting back to her task. “Sorta. I liked the sweets, some of the plays, decorating the tree, giving gifts, but it’s the parties I have a tough time with.” Her mask flipped down, her voice continuing. “Especially going to different places and dressing up. And crowds. Definitely crowds. Being forced to go to back to back parties with no rest, too much music, just…too much.”

Emily whirred, mimicking the solemn mood. Entrapta immediately perked up, mask up. “Best part of the holiday is the sweets! And a smorgasbord of it! Hot chocolates, candy canes, cookies, so much! Smaller, the better and the sweeter!”

“Hm,” Hordak mused, “Do you plan to celebrate it soon?” He’ll have to create a request form for her, and guide her through the process.

“Maybe not.”

That stopped him in his work. Blinking, he stared at her, confusion apparent. “I thought you enjoyed the holiday?”

“Oh I do! It’s just that after the last party I went to, my robot had malfunctioned and caused a bit of a scandal, which was expected because someone dumped juice on it and they blamed me for the trouble. Which was completely unfair because the kid was a brat and he did it on purpose. And since then I focused on my work, celebrating by myself. Which isn’t bad: no parties, no loud noises, no social rules. Just me, my work, my staff, my robots.”

And with that she focused on her task.

But Hordak heard the wistful tone in her voice. Allowing a moment to pass, he collected his thoughts. “You can celebrate it here.”

Emily squeaked a quizzical sound as Entrapta turned around, mimicking the noise. Hordak continued, “I would not oppose to having a small festivity here. Two of us—“ Emily and Imp, who appeared on the robot at some point earlier, chirred and squeaked. “With Emily and Imp. In a small place in my Sanctum. No loud noises, no crowds, no parties. Only our work and however you wish to celebrate Snowrest. Quietly,” he added the final word as a confirmation. No one else is allowed in the Sanctum unless he wished it. Entrapta is the exception as she preferred using the vents to travel.

The woman in question gasped, eyes sparkling as excitement took over her body. She vaulted over to Hordak, her hair giving her height as she hugged the surprised warlord. “Oooooohhh! A Secret Snowrest! I’ve heard of those before, but I never participated in one! Hordak, this is fascinating! Thank you,” and she gave him a quick peck on the cheek before she squeaked. “I gotta get ready! There’s sweets to get, a tree to decorate, so much! Be back soon!” And with that she lifted herself off of him and into an overhead vent, the sound of thumping and thudding receding, and then stopped, and then returning. Her head popped out, a comical sight. “Oh! Hordak, you don’t have to give me anything for the gift exchange. Just a heads up. Be right back!” And then she is gone, taking away Hordak’s unspoken question.

He sighed, both amused and slightly bothered by Entrapta’s enthusiasm. It was endearing, yes, but the spontaneity and the mystery of it can be baffling to decipher. But it was part of her, and she was honest.

“What did she mean by—Oh.” He recalled that gift exchanging, an act of trading of tokens, however meaningful or whimsical, was one aspect of the holiday. For some, it’s departing of the old materials to those who are less fortunate to have such materials. A gesture of goodwill.

Glancing at Emily, Hordak mulled over Entrapta’s last words. “I think she would like a gift. I would not know what she needs.”

The robot twittered. He continued, “I do not require anything that she can offer in a small material form. This,” he placed a claw on his improved armour, that she made for him, unprompted. “Is more than enough, I think.”

Both Emily and Imp voiced their agreement.

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

Over the course of a few days, Entrapta and Hordak worked. Entrapta, her projects with First Ones, weapons and machines for the Horde, and assembling for Snowrest. Hordak, his occupation as Lord Hordak, warlord of the Horde, his projects, and keeping an eye on Entrapta’s work with amusement.

Finally, Snowrest was here.

And it was just the two of them with Emily and Imp. Hordak took in the small corner that designated as Snowrest festivity. A small crooked sculpture, assembled by scrap pieces of metals, adored with a few lights and minor decorations. A plate of small sweets, smuggled into here with some bribes to the cooks and the transports, side by side with two small mugs of steaming hot chocolate topped with tiny marshmellows. Against the wall was a sofa, covered with blankets.

“Oohhhhh, it’s perfect!” Entrapta stood beside him, alit with joy. Emily beeped beside her, happily jiggling a collar of bells on her leg. She moved to sit beside the sculpture, Imp scrambling on her. He himself was wearing an oversized sweater, from Entrapta’s youth. Garnished in odd colours, movement almost restricted, Imp adored the warm sweater. He curled up on Emily, taking position to gaze at the whimsical sculpture with glittering objects and beautiful colours.

“It is rather enchanting,” Hordak agreed, watching Entrapta. Her delight was worth the odd scuffle and near hassles. It felt, nice.

“One last thing!” Entrapta went to the sofa, sitting down as she gestured Hordak to come. He obeyed, settling himself. Once he was comfortable, Entrapta placed a single bow on his chest, right below the diamond-shaped crystal.

“What is this?” Hordak murmured, glancing from the tiny bow to Entrapta. Her soft gaze almost undid him.

“You know how I said you didn’t have to give me anything?” At his nod, she continued, “I do mean it, in that you are the best thing I’ve ever gotten. You listened to my theories, to my rambling, and you don’t belittle me. I don’t need anything, because you’re the best gift I’ve ever been blessed to receive. You’re my lab partner, my friend, and the best thing in my life.”

Face warm and ears parallel to the floor, Hordak barely comprehended what she said. He blinked, and cleared his throat. “I…I am honoured to be your gift on this Snowrest. You are, also a gift to me as well.”

Entrapta smiled, giving him a mug while holding hers. “I did have a hard time finding a gift for you, but Imp and Emily kinda helped.”

“Oh?” Hordak sniffed the drink, the aroma of earthy and spicy herbs a pleasant one.

Her hair brought over a small ornament of sorts, rather misshapen with various sticks and glitter and nuts and bolts.

“Yeah, Imp and Emily recorded that day that the armour I made was more than enough for you, but I also wanted to make you a small one. Your first Snowrest decoration!”

Hordak had to chuckle at that. Small and imperfect, the ornament is a clumsy attempt, but there is endearment in its form, and crafted with some care.

“Thank you,” he gingerly accepted the gift, “to all of you,” he directed to the snoozing duo. Emily let out a quiet chirr to respond.

Entrapta snuggled closer to Hordak as her hair wrapped the blankets over them and he moved into a comfortable position.

“Happy Snowrest, Hordak,” Entrapta whispered as she nuzzled his cheek.

Tenderly, Hordak kissed her. “And to you, Entrapta. Happy Snowrest, lab partner.”

#entrapdak #entrapdak secret santa #hordak #entrapta #spop #shera

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insufferablecrab · 5 years

Text

Chat blanc spoilers ahead maybe

I wrote this at 3am after work and will regret it when I wake up

I don't like how chat blanc was honestly. It seemed like such a cop out episode. Another one where Marinette causes problems because of her obsession with Adrien. It happens so often at this point it's boring.

I feel that chat blanc as an idea should have been kept for later, maybe not even as chat blanc.

Idea #1 isolated outburst

It's already well established that Gabriel doesn't like having his son exposed to normal people and wants him under constant surveillance. He doesn't get to hang out with his friends very often and has to either beg and plead to see them, or sneak out. He really only has plagg to vent to about the majority of his problems.

The school that he goes to is constantly being attacked by akuma after akuma. Why not have his father withdraw him from school for safety concerns? Forbid him from going out even more to keep him safe, keep anyone who was ever akumatized from seeing him, basically all of his friends.

Have the stress caused by his father, loneliness, and superhero life build until one night he goes out to blow some steam, only to break down and have a destructive outburst destroying a modeling poster of himself. Then he gets akumatized. He then begins to destroy buildings, benches, cars, causing terror.

Ladybug confused but determined fights him. His destructive power is too strong for her to beat so she runs and a chase begins. He chases her, leaving a trail of wreakage. He's about to cataclysm her but then he lowers his hand and cries. He doesn't actually want to hurt anyone especially not someone he loves.

Hawkmoth yells at him to finish the job, he fights and eventually rejects the akuma, it comes out of his ring by itself still corrupted. Ladybug purifies it and they have a talk. The buildings he destroyed? Empty and scheduled for demolition. The cars? Most of them were rusty piles of junk that had been abandoned. Most of the other things that he destroyed were things like billboards and lamp post, concrete. He just didn't know how to deal with how he felt and they talk it out. He tells her how lonely he his while leaving out important details like school and personal friends. Ladybug comforts him and he leaves feeling better with plans to see her later.

Idea #2 simple corrupted monster

Attempting to save someone from an akuma, probably Marinette, he uses his cataclysm. Instead of being destroyed it corrupts the ring and transforms him into an incarnate of destruction. He becomes a large black cat monster that demolishes everything it touches. Hawkmoth cannot control him.

From here there are 3 ways it could be like

Chat is conscious of his actions and and doesn't activity try to hurt anything. All he wants is to stop what is happening to him. He asks for help but can't actually speak. Every step he takes corrodes the ground beneath his feet and people flee in terror. He is misunderstood until fu or ladybug realize he hasn't hurt anyone on purpose. They find some way to cure him through trial and error, perhaps from a ritual in the spell book.

Chat is mindlessly moving to an unknown goal. He walks through anything and everything. He doesn't actively attack anything but also doesn't try not to hurt anything or anyone. Again through trial and error they cure him.

Chat is not himself, he actively attacks and smashes everything he can see. It looks like he's in pain of some sort and is compulsively disintegrating everything. They find some way to calm him and again heal him.

#miracolous spoilers #miracolous ladybug #miraculous ladybug #miraculous fanfic #chat noir #chat blanc #adrien agreste #adrinette #marichat #marinette dupen chang #tales of ladybug and cat noir #ladynoir #ladrien #hawkmoth #gabriel

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bad-at-names-and-faces · 4 years

Text

Green: Jealousy, nature, naivety

A set of four drabbles from my canon divergence AU...

Green

Olaf suggested she should go, and then the rocks started moving. Anna felt a wave of cold, and everything went black. Kristoff was holding her as she came to, and someone was speaking… a troll?

“Anna, we’ve got to get you back to Hans,” Kristoff told her.

“Hans…”

Jealousy

“So, you’re the young man who rescued Princess Anna from her folly?”

Kristoff nodded silently, not sure how he should be addressing this Prince Hans that he had heard both so much and so little about.

Kristoff’s eyes widened, afraid to look away even as Hans’s eyes dug into his gaze.

“Relax, have a drink!” Hans laughed.

Nature

Naivety

“So the wedding is happening next week?” Kristoff asked Elsa, not really needing confirmation of the schedule.

“Yes,” she replied, wringing her hands as she stood in the kitchen doorway, “Anna was quite determined, and she… she can be quite persuasive, you know.”

“So you approve now?”

“I have my reasons,” Elsa sighed.

“I mean, you didn’t know him before, so that’s understandable.”

“Oh, yes, of course,” Elsa said quickly, “you’re absolutely right.”

“I have to admit, when she first told me, I questioned her judgement.”

“Her naivety is certainly charming, don’t you think?” Hans asked, startling both of them.

#kristannaweek2020 #100 word drabble #day 3 #canon divergence

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shambali-sinner · 5 years

Text

Tinker, Tailor, Soldier, Scourge

Red or Black Chapter 5! Thank you for bearing with me. I enjoy writing but find it challenging. It’s also difficult to find the time, energy, and motivation. You’ve waited a while for this chapter, and I hope it delivers!

This chapter is rated T for Teen for a little spice at the end. As always, this story is fem reader/pronouns.

Previous chapter

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

“Not that I believe you’d ever do such a thing, given your employment history, but do remember not to speak to Doomfist unless spoken to. Adeyemi is not a patient man.”

Maximilien was guiding you down a long, dark hallway. A month ago you would have thought nothing fazed him. Indeed, even now, the omnic could probably count on one hand the number of people who could notice his nervous tics. The rest of the world only ever saw the calm fluidity of his movements that were so unlike those of an omnic.

But you could hear a faint clicking in his jaw with each step he took. You noticed his pin was slightly askew and he hadn’t fixed it. The twitch of his fingers, hidden under the light caress of your own palm as your arm covered his offered elbow, betrayed the fear few knew he even felt.

Maximilien was terrified of The Scourge of Numbani, and you were the only person in the world who knew it.

“Of course,” you replied, unable to hide the thumping in your own chest from his audio receptors. You walked under a small, quiet vent and the slight chill made you shudder involuntarily. Instantly Max whipped around and took both your hands, rubbing circles into the tops with his thumbs.

“Are you alright, my dear? I will be by your side the whole time. It is important to show strength to him, but in many instances our activities are executed as a team. You’ll have my companionship during the entirety of the meeting.”

He was making an effort to be reassuring and you let out a little breath in appreciation. He was concerned for your welfare. He cared about you, something others might consider weakness. You knew better. Maximilien was anything but weak, and you rejected the thought that you might be in kind. You squared your shoulders and squeezed his hands back before reaching and adjusting his pin yourself.

His eyelids fluttered almost imperceptibly. But you noticed and filed away the reaction for later use. “Max, I—“

“You’re late.” The door at the end of the hall had opened, revealing a tall Nigerian man with red markings painted on his face.

“Akande,” Max seemed to sigh, shoulders falling in irritation. “The present local time is 9:58. I am never late unless I intend to be.”

“A quality my mentor greatly appreciates.” The Nigerian man held the door open wider and you straightened your posture before striding confidently toward the room, Max just ahead of you. In the corner of your eye you saw the man cock a brow and felt his gaze following you as you passed him. Once you crossed the threshold, he slipped out into the hall and the door shut behind you with a full thud.

There was a wide open balcony under a stone archway at the far end of the room. No stars were visible in the navy sky beyond; there was too much light pollution in this city. A small table and three cushioned armchairs were set out next to a lit fireplace on the right side. Max shuffled forward, his footsteps echoing on the chamber’s stone walls, and bowed at the imposing figure sitting. You followed suit with a curtsy.

“Max, my good friend, please do have a seat. You, too, Miss.” The voice was higher-pitched and less booming than Akande’s, more welcoming. You nodded and sat down gently, noticing the steaming pot of tea laid out on the table. Adeyemi’s eyes flickered across your face. “Please, enjoy a refreshment. Be my guest.”

You heard the omnic’s jaw click beside you. A warning. There was something untrustworthy about the tea being offered, and you were in no position to refuse. Your jaw tightened slightly and Adeyemi released a small breath, seemingly amused. “You have every reason to distrust my hospitality, so if it will ease you, I’ll drink from the pot first.” He poured himself a glass and added a single lump of sugar before taking a sip and smiling. “See? It’s safe.”

You breathed in sharply through your nose and lifted your chin, resolving yourself to mimic the pour exactly, down to stirring a single lump of sugar into the cup before sampling it. The flavor was bitter even with the sweetener and you struggled to suppress a cough. The twinkle in Adeyemi’s eye had not dissipated as he turned to Maximilien. “You, too, Max. No one is exempt, you know.”

The omnic’s fingers twitched over a small blinking device behind the teapot you hadn’t noticed before. Hesitantly, he picked it up and unhinged his jaw, screwing the chip into an approximation of where the back of his throat would be.

“So tell me, Max. How do you feel?”

Maximilien reaffixed his jaw before responding, all trace of emotion gone from his voice, his timbre sounding far more synthetic than usual. “Humiliated.”

“Good to know the technology is functioning properly.” Adeyemi turned back to you. “And you, Miss?”

You wanted to respond with some sort of confident reply, but your tongue refused to form the syllables. What was wrong with your mouth? You grew more panicked as you found yourself incapable of saying what you wanted. After several garbled attempts at speech you were finally able to get out the words, “Afraid and confused.”

Adeyemi chuckled. “Then allow me to explain. There was a truth serum in the tea, one that shuts down the brain’s ability to communicate fabrications. We’ve both drunk it. Max has likewise graciously installed a Candor Module into his cortex. There will be no lies at this table tonight.”

“A Candor Module?” You were shocked. Such devices were little more than urban legend: special, secret omnic implants rumored to only be afforded by the world’s wealthiest for use with their servants. The capability to strip an omnic of their personality, their privacy, and their rights, in the palm of a human hand. They were highly illegal, if one even believed they existed at all.

No wonder the characteristically proud omnic beside you felt humiliated.

“I require absolute honesty in all my initial interviews, from both the prospective agent and their recruiter. If you’ll be working for my branch of Talon, I need to know you are not simply working your way in here to kill me. In return, I, too partake of the truth serum, as an expression of mutual trust.”

Your brow furrowed in confusion.

“Speak your mind,” the man exhaled calmly, lacing his fingers together and leaning back in his chair.

You thought for a moment, making sure to choose the right words to not get tongue-tied again. “With all due respect, why am I here being interviewed to work under you when, as I understand it, Maximilien holds equal power on the Council?”

“Have you not told her?” Adeyemi cocked an eyebrow at Max.

“No,” he responded flatly.

“What else do you already know of me, Miss?”

You inhaled slowly, steeling yourself before answering, matter-of-fact, “You are the Scourge of Numbani, the second person to bear the Doomfist mantle. You were often the guest of my former employer, Signore Bartalotti, but we never personally met. I cleaned up after some of your more colorful activities in the meeting hall more than once.”

“And Max snatched you up before any of the rest of us could have you for ourselves?” Adeyemi was smirking at the omnic, a playful flash in his eyes. “Almost as though he anticipated Antonio’s unfortunate demise at the hands of Overwatch’s wet team.”

Max blinked slowly, body language giving away no acknowledgement of the accusation.

Looking back at you, Adeyemi squared his shoulders and inhaled, finally answering your question. “This meeting would have simply been an introduction only if you did not possess a unique set of . . . skills our organization can put to good use. Max wants you to be trained in self defense-style combat. I want to take it a step further.” He leaned forward, pressing his fingers against his lips. “I want you trained as an assassin.”

Maximilien’s jaw clicked faintly again. If your host noticed, he didn’t show it.

Adeyemi went on. “Max has a substantial military guard force, but no one capable of training you in the ways that would be most beneficial. I do. That is why you are being tested today.”

Your mouth hung slightly ajar at this information. The words had washed over you as if they weren’t even real and you found them stewing in your head, not fitting together in any meaningful way. You closed your eyes and took a deep breath, hanging your head and folding your arms. The defensive pose did not go unnoticed, but the others in the room did not prompt you, respectfully giving you the time to process the information.

You swallowed slowly and opened your eyes, looking back up at the man across the table from you, ready to announce your determination. “I don’t know if I have the capacity to kill someone.”

Adeyemi raised an eyebrow. “Well that’s not a response I’ve heard before. I’ve heard outright denial, blind fealty, and hesitancy, but not self-skepticism. Your words suggest that you are willing to accept the moral consequences of doing whatever is necessary to further our cause but don’t know if you could pull a real trigger when the time comes. You are a most definitely promising asset, one we’ll simply have to work on.”

He then turned to Maximilien, giving you time to think. “Tell me, Max, how goes your project in Paris?”

“The pieces are falling into place,” the omnic replied. “Our front reopens next week and I’ve hired a compliant puppet to run it. Her convictions and beliefs will stir the omnic population of Paris to the type of discontent perfect for planting our ideological seeds.”

“Does this puppet of yours know who you truly are?”

“No. She believes she is spreading unity through a message of equality, but we have the resources to twist the meaning of her words for the public.”

“Good, good. Now, I have to ask a personal question of you, Miss.” You swallowed thickly as he turned back to you. This couldn’t be good. “How do you feel about Max? About the nature of your relationship with him?”

You stiffened, coughing slightly in discomfort, knowing you couldn’t lie and you couldn’t run. The Scourge of Numbani would be more than content to sit and wait for hours until the truth serum wore off, only to dose you with it again and wait even longer. You closed your eyes and gave in, letting the words that didn’t even seem like yours burble up from your throat.

“I feel scared and intimidated. I’ve never felt more in danger than when he’s in a room with me. That being said, that fear is fantastically exhilarating. Maximilien makes me feel alive in ways I never knew possible. He ensures I want for nothing, and his touch ignites a fire within my soul. It’s only been a month, and I can’t name this feeling yet, but I do know it’s intoxicating and I don’t want it to end any time soon.”

You opened your eyes again, surprised that so much honesty had poured out of you. Your cheeks burned hot and red with shame and you turned away from the omnic in the chair next to you, pulling nervously at a lock of hair.

Adeyemi responded slowly. “And would you say your loyalty is to him or to Talon as a whole? You’ve worked for Antonio for nearly six years. Would you betray those you’ve worked with for such a large part of your life so far if he asked you to? Hypothetically, of course.”

“Yes.” The word slipped from your mouth before you could even think about how to respond. You gasped a little, and you could see the man prompting you to elaborate. Your lip trembled as you went on. “My loyalty will be first and foremost to Maximilien. I don’t trust him, but I know he doesn’t want me harmed. He will do everything in his power to keep me safe. I put my faith in that. And yes, I would betray any of you if he asked me to.”

Adeyemi closed his eyes, considering. His next words were slow and enunciated very clearly. “Would you die for him?”

“Yes.”

There was a thick silence that enveloped the room, cut only by the crackling of the fire a few feet away. Sweat was beading on the back of your neck and for the first time you noticed the faint scent of sandalwood lingering in the air. After an eternity, the Scourge spoke again.

“And you, Max? Same questions.”

The omnic replied almost immediately in that same emotionless monotone brought on by the Candor Module. “She is only a pet to me, a plaything, a pretty accessory to flaunt my wealth and status. Were she to be lost to me I would experience disappointment in the loss and the circumstances of my security that would lead to such a thing, but I can always find another pet to amuse myself with. There are plenty of people dying to be on the arm of a rich man in exchange for intimate favors. My loyalty is to Talon, and I would not sacrifice myself to save her.”

The words did not faze you. You knew this was Maximilien’s opinion of what you had, and you had prepared for him to respond like this, despite your own confession of feelings just before. Still, you reached for your glass of tea and took another nervous drink to calm yourself, truth serum be damned.

Adeyemi remained quiet, merely observing you stewing in your burning shame for several moments. You both wanted to know what he was thinking and not at the same time. Finally, he cleared his throat and scratched his nose, leaning back in his chair and seeming to relax. “Well, Miss, I think we can proceed with your training. Max and I would like my protege, Akande Ogundimu, to teach you in turn. You met him on the way in.”

“I’ve worked for his family’s company for nearly your whole life,” Maximilien chimed in. “I oversaw the transition of control of the company from his father to him. I’ve requested him personally for your training.”

You nodded. “That makes sense.”

“Well, I think we’re nearly finished here. Do you have any questions for me?” Adeyemi asked.

You only had one. “What kind of assassin does Talon expect me to be?”

———————————

Maximilien slid into the seat behind you in the back of the limousine and wrapped an arm around you. As soon as the door closed, giving you privacy, you turned and straddled his hips, resting your hands on his shoulders. His fingers squeezed your hips encouragingly and he hummed questioningly, his usual singsong cadence restored.

You pressed a kiss to his jaw and pulled back to look in his eyes. “A truth serum, Max? You could have warned me.”

“Would you have had the same first impression on Adeyemi if I had?”

You pouted. “Probably not,” you admitted, “But I think you prepared me well enough.” You ground against him, the heat beginning to spread through you relieving the tension in your muscles.

The omnic purred, stroking your side. “What’s brought this on, darling?”

“You’re so much more than that stupid module is supposed to strip you down to. You’re twice the man anyone who would force you to assimilate it is.”

He closed his eyes and laid his head back against the seat. “Only one other person knows this, but Candor Modules don’t work on me. With the access to them someone of my affluence has, I was able to have a few deconstructed and my software upgraded to be immune to their code.”

“You mean—“

“Everything I said in that meeting was an act.”

“Why tell me you can’t be compelled into honesty? Why trust me with the information that you just lied to the Scourge of Numbani?”

“You’re still under the influence of your own compulsion,” he groaned, beginning to stiffen beneath you. “I know what you’re doing right now is genuine; you truly think I’m worth something more than my money. You’ll keep my secrets for me, probably better than anyone else I know. It’s almost tragic how quickly and completely you’ve attached yourself to me, though I can’t say I’m displeased.”

You paused to consider his words. You thought back to before the meeting, your fleeting impression that he cared about you. But in what way? “Will you ever tell me how you truly feel about me?”

Had he been capable of facial expression beyond his eyelids, you knew he’d be smirking. “Not a chance, my dear.”

Next chapter | All chapters

#maxie red or black #maximilien x reader #dark!overwatch #fem reader/pronouns

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