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drabbles-mc · 2 years

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Just One Week (9)

Horacio Carrillo x F!Reader

Warnings: 18+, alcohol, a tiny little dash of tension to make the world go round

Word Count: 3.7k

A/N: It’s been a minute since my last update, sorry about that! Been having a lot of life stuff going on and writing hasn’t been at the top of my priority list. Also, I’ve been procrastinating on this story because I know I’ve only got a couple chapters left and I’m not ready to say goodbye to the little world I’ve built here. But I hope you guys enjoy! xo

Chapter Index

Narcos Taglist: @thesandbeneathmytoes @garbinge @bruxasolta @winchestershiresauce @sizzlingcloudmentality @alm0501 @panagiasikelia @616wilsons @hauntedforsst @mirabee @buckybarneshairpullingkink @boomclapxox @nessamc @southotheborder @supersanelyromantic @padbrookcottage @mysun-n-stars @raincoffeeandfandoms @ashlingnarcos (If you want to be added to any of my taglists, let me know!)

Your alarm went off in the morning, and it felt like you had gotten absolutely no rest. You slept through the night just fine, but there was still an exhaustion weighing heavily in your bones. You felt like you were moving at half-speed as you made your way around your apartment to get ready for the day.

It was your parents’ last full day in Colombia—they were flying out the following afternoon. The mix of emotions that you were having in lieu of those facts wasn’t something you had been expecting. You enjoyed having them so close, and it made you realize just how much you actually missed them. Of course you knew that, but you didn’t realize just how much you missed them until you saw them again, and then were faced with the fact that they were going to be leaving. Clearly they liked their stay in Colombia well enough, and depending on how much longer you stayed they would come back again to see you, but there was no set time frame. Once they took off, you had no idea when you were going to see them again.

And that meant that you were going to be back on your own in Colombia again. Or, at least, that was one of the possibilities. The other thing that was lingering, like a cloud shading all of your thoughts, was not knowing what was really going to happen with Carrillo when the time came for the ruse to be up, and for the two of you to sort out how you wanted to move forward. You didn’t want to pretend that none of it ever happened, you didn’t want it to go back to how it was before. Something in your gut told you that he felt the same way, but you didn’t know if he was going to be brave enough to allow himself that. Restraint was woven into the fabric of who he was and how he operated, you knew that well, and you hoped that it wasn’t going to keep him from you.

You had no intention of spending your day at work knowing that your parents were going to be leaving in about twenty-four hours. Your plan was simply to just swing through and make sure that nothing drastic had happened overnight that you needed to help anyone handle, give Horacio the vague gameplan for the night, and then proceed to spend the day with your parents doing whatever they hadn’t managed to do already. It was a painfully simple plan, one you assumed you were going to have to trouble executing especially since the powers that be decided you, Steve, and Javier weren’t going to be going anywhere or doing anything anytime soon.

Walking across the floor, it was completely silent and empty. You’d seen Carrillo’s car in the parking lot when you’d gotten there, so you knew that he was in already at least. No one else was, though, and you supposed that maybe it was better that way.

You dropped your stuff at your desk, not even bothering to get it organized since you weren’t planning on saying. The walk to his office door seemed so much longer than usual. The door was open, but you still gave it a light knock as you walked in. Carrillo looked up from the papers on his desk, face softening from intense focus into a small smile when he saw you.

“Got a minute?” you lingered by the door.

He nodded, gesturing to the chair across from him, “Always.”

Your lips curled into a smile at the sentiment. Turning, you gently pushed the door closed and came to sit across from him. Crossing one leg over the other, you rested your hands in your lap, feeling almost the same kinds of jitters that you had when you sat down in that very chair almost two weeks before. It was funny to you, how things could feel simultaneously the same and yet so different.

“Everything alright?” his eyes searched yours, wondering where your head was at.

You nodded, “Yea. I just, you know, um, it’s my parents’ last night in Colombia.”

His brows furrowed, thinking of all the implications of that statement, “Oh.”

“Mhm,” you didn’t know why it was so hard to meet his eyes, “So I was just hoping that you could maybe come over for dinner? You know, before my mother’s heart breaks having to leave you behind tomorrow,” you chuckled.

He smiled, nodding, “I can do that. Dinner at your apartment?”

“Yea,” you rested your elbow against the arm of the chair, leaning against it, “Is there a more glamorous way to wrap up their time here with us?”

With us was going to be replaying in his mind long after the current discussion was over. He already knew it. “Anything you need from me?”

You shook your head, a smile creeping across your lips, “Just your company.”

“Okay,” he wished that he knew how to say just how reassuring that was.

“Okay,” you nodded, standing up. You turned and were about to walk towards the door, but decided that you were feeling just brave enough to say, “And if you want to, you can stay again.” He leaned back in his chair, eyes a little wider as though the words had actually pushed him and you couldn’t help but to smile at his reaction, “I’ll see you later.”

He nodded, “Yes, I’ll see you later.”

You left the door to his office open when you walked out, leaving it the same way it was when you got there. Even though you couldn’t feel the smile on your face, it must’ve been there, because the first thing that you heard when you got closer to your desk was the sound of Steve’s laughter.

“Early meeting with the colonel?” his grin was smug enough to slap off his face.

You tried to rein in whatever look was on your face to make him talk that way, “Just making sure that no one here needed me for anything today—Mom and Dad leave tomorrow.”

“Can’t believe you didn’t bring ‘em here,” he shook his head.

You laughed, “Meeting you and Peña is more of a second-trip type of experience. Which reminds me,” you picked up your belongings and clapped Steve on the shoulder, “You’re in charge of keeping him out of trouble today while I’m gone.”

“When are you gonna be on babysitting duty?”

You rolled your eyes as you walked towards the elevator, “I’m on babysitting duty every time the three of us are together.”

Shopping with your parents in preparation for dinner was an adventure in its own way. Never again would you take for granted being able to wander and get things done at your own pace. Normally, you would’ve just gone shopping on your own and picked up whatever they wanted, but your mom insisted on coming along with you despite the fact that she didn’t know where you were going or the setup of anywhere that you were shopping. Your dad knew better than to try and get in the middle of it all, content to simply be the one who was in charge of carrying the groceries as you each accumulated them.

“We don’t need all of that, do we?” your mom eyed the bag that you handed to your father.

You laughed, “I still need to eat after you guys leave, you know. It’s not going to go to waste.”

She let out a quiet hum, a sound that signaled a sort of defeat, “I didn’t think of it that way.”

“I know you think I work too much, but I promise I do eat.”

As much as you cherished your own routine and way of doing things, you had to admit that it was amusing to watch your mother gawk at some of the things that you didn’t have back home. After a while, she didn’t even need to ask, “What’s this?” because you could see it on her face as she reached to get something off a shelf that she was going to have questions. You were happy to explain what everything was, what different things you could do with whatever item she pulled off the shelf. Your father was quiet for the most part, but you could see it in the expression on his face that he was impressed.

And you wished that Carrillo was there. The thought snuck up on you as you watched your mother shake her head and put a package back onto the shelf. You were in the middle of chuckling and shaking your head when you found yourself wondering how amused Horacio would’ve been with all of it too. The thought surprised you, but you didn’t mind the warmth that spread through your chest in the wake of it. The flutter in your heart must’ve translated into your facial expression because when you looked over, your father was looking at you, an amused smile on his lips.

“You alright?” he asked, his tone light enough to convey the fact that he knew you were definitely alright, just caught daydreaming.

You laughed, not able to look him in the eye, like you’d been caught red-handed doing something you weren’t supposed to, “I’m good, yea.”

It was almost dinnertime, and by some miracle you had managed to cook alongside your mother in your puny kitchen without either of you setting the apartment or each other on fire. The real victory, though, was the fact that at no point did either of you try to kick the other out of the kitchen. Your father kept himself a safe distance from the fray, happy to help with anything either of you asked for, but other than that he kept quiet and kept away. He enjoyed watching the two of you, though—it’d been a long time since he had the privilege of watching you both do something together like that and enjoy it.

Despite your chattering, and the music from the radio, and all the sounds that came with making dinner, you still heard the knock at the door. You looked over at your mother, giving her a slight shake of your head, “I got it.”

You wiped your hands off on your jeans and she immediately sighed, “Why don’t you just buy an apron?”

You laughed, “What’s the difference between washing an apron at the end of the night, or washing my jeans?”

She looked over at your dad, “She’s your daughter tonight.”

You were still laughing when you unlocked and pulled the door open. You didn’t know if he had heard the exchange between you and your parents, or if he’d just heard you laughing on your way to the door, but either way, he was smiling and shaking his head. Perhaps it was all in your head, but it seemed like each time you saw him, he looked just a little more comfortable. And, even with the seemingly permanent butterflies in your stomach, you felt more comfortable too.

“You made it,” you smiled as you pulled the door open wider, allowing him to walk through and also giving yourself a chance to gawk at him a bit in his khakis and light grey polo, the white crewneck t-shirt peeking out just a bit at the collar.

He watched you close and lock the door again. When you turned back around to face him, he leaned in, pressing a chaste kiss to your cheek, “Of course I did.”

“Good,” your mom piped up from the kitchen with a laugh, her back to both of you as she continued to cook, “because I would have hated to cancel our flight out to make sure we saw you again before we left.”

You rolled your eyes with a smile, “You wouldn’t have hated it that much,” you looked at Carrillo, noticing for the first time that he had something in his hand, “For me?”

He chuckled as he handed the bottle of wine over to you, “For everyone.”

You hugged it to your chest, a playful grin on your face, “For me.”

There was something so comfortable about the four of you sitting together at the tiny table in your apartment. It could’ve easily felt cramped and uncomfortable, but it didn’t, at least not to you. Judging by the looks on their faces, they felt the same way you did. Horacio sat next to you, looking and listening so intently to your mother who was recounting everything that they had been up to that he hadn’t been there for or heard about. It was amazing to you, really, how quickly it had all gotten thrown together and put into place. Never in a million years would you have thought that he would be invested in much of anything that you or your parents had to say, but there he was, completely focused. More than once you missed what was being said because you were too busy watching him.

“You know,” your mom was spoke as she poured herself another glass of wine, “if you’re planning on staying here, you really should think about getting a nicer place for yourself.”

“What?” you laughed, “This isn’t glamorous enough for you?”

She shook her head, “If you’re going to make a life for yourself here, you should have a real home.”

“Hmm,” your hum was pensive, “Guess I just haven’t had much time to think about it.”

“No?” her brows lifted, “It seems like you’ve settled in nicely here. I was under the impression that you would be staying,” her eyes darted to the kitchen for all of a moment, glancing at Carrillo who was stacking dishes into the sink.

Your heart constricted in your chest, “Like I said, things have been crazy here—long-term hasn’t really been a luxury I can afford.”

“Mhm,” she nodded before taking a sip of her wine, “Horacio?”

“Sí, señora?” he glanced over his shoulder.

“Have you been thinking long-term?”

Your eyes nearly popped out of your skull, “Mom!”

“What?” she looked back and forth between the two of you, “It’s a fair question.”

You looked to your dad, hoping that he was going to step in and say something, if not for Carrillo’s sake, then for yours. But when the two of you locked eyes across the table, he gave the slightest shake of his head, letting you know that this was a battle to be fought between you and your mother. He knew better than to get into the middle of it.

If you were being honest, it was surprising that it took your mom until her last night with the two of you to start pressing for answers like that. Looking over at him, you shook your head, “You don’t have to answer that, Horacio.”

Your mom shook her head, “Don’t be ridiculous, Y/N. You’re both adults and—”

“And it’s none of your business,” you finished the sentence for her, not speaking loudly but your tone was firm.

Carrillo was still standing by the sink, gaze shifting back and forth between the two of you as he listened to you both. He knew that you’d mentioned before that your mother could be pushy, and he assumed that he was starting to see that side of her. He wanted to jump in and try to smooth it all over, but he had no idea what to say to accomplish that.

“We’ve been figuring things out just fine so far,” his voice was soft, calm as he peeled his eyes away from your mother and over to you, “I’m sure that’s not going to change.”

The steadiness in his tone and his gaze were reassuring. Some of the tension melted out of your shoulders and you relaxed into your chair a bit. Your heartbeat steadied a bit as you took another sip of your wine, more to give yourself something to do besides spit out another remark towards your mother. However, the same way that it’d been all week, Horacio’s words seemed to be enough to satiate her for the time being. You knew, though, that if he hadn’t been there, the conversation would be going very differently. It was another thing to add to the list of reasons you were glad to have him around.

In an attempt to change the topic and squash the last of the tension, Carrillo turned his attention to your father, “What time is your flight tomorrow?”

Your father’s shoulders relaxed too, never having gotten fully desensitized to the back and forth between you and your mother, “We fly out at one.”

Horacio nodded, “We can pick you up from your hotel.”

Looking over at him, a smile pulled at your lips. You hadn’t talked to him about it, not really planning on making him go to the airport with you to drop them off. Maybe it shouldn’t have been surprising, though. After all, he was the one who suggested he go with you to get them in the first place when they’d arrived.

“That’d be nice,” your mom seemed to be back to her casual self. She swirled the wine around in her glass for a moment, “We really would like to come back and visit again. Maybe a different time of year.”

“Or when things quiet down,” your father offered. Nothing major had happened in their time with you, thank god, but it was starting to feel like you were all playing Russian roulette and you were running out of empty chambers.

“That too,” you agreed with a quiet laugh.

“Would quiet mean that you would be able to take some time off too, Horacio?” your mother asked, genuinely curious.

There was a soft smile on his face as he walked over, standing behind your chair and resting his hand lightly on your shoulder, “Only if I’m lucky.” You reached and rested your hand on top of his, letting your fingers interlock just a little. Your heart picked up speed inside your chest and you tried not to let it show as he gave your hand a light squeeze.

You got out of the car when you parked in front of the hotel your parents were at, wanting to say an actual goodnight to each of them. Carrillo said goodnight to them first, giving you a few moments on your own with the two of them as he stepped back towards the car.

Your goodnight to your father was quick, but you could tell by the look in your mother’s eyes that she had something more to say than just goodnight. You didn’t want to get into things all over again, but you didn’t have much of another choice but to let it play out.

“You know I love you,” her tone was hushed, her smile sincere.

You nodded, “I know.”

“And I know that you get annoyed with me, but—”

“Mom,” you cut her off, shaking your head, “it’s fine. Really.”

“Let me finish,” she laughed softly, “I know you get annoyed. And I’m sorry for that. But you seem so happy,” her eyes strayed to Carrillo, who was leaning casually against the car while he waited, and then came back to you, “And I just don’t want you to give that up. I don’t want you to cost yourself that.”

She was saying all the right things and yet your chest still felt heavy. Still, you smiled, “I know, Mom.”

“Don’t go getting in your own way,” she offered a small smile.

You laughed, nodding, “I’ll try not to.”

“Come here,” she pulled you into a hug, “I love you.”

You took a deep breath, relaxing into it, “I love you too,” you pulled away, smiling at her, “I’ll see you tomorrow. Make sure you don’t forget anything in your hotel room when you pack in the morning.”

She gave a dismissive wave as she laughed, “Your father has practically fit the entire room into our suitcases.”

You chuckled, knowing that that probably wasn’t much of an exaggeration, “Get some sleep.”

“You too,” she smiled before turning and heading into the building with your father.

Taking a deep breath, you walked back over to Horacio who was still waiting patiently as ever. He tilted his head slightly, trying to figure out what you were thinking, “Everything alright?”

You just wanted to collapse into him, but you refrained, “Everything’s good.”

You were just about to step around him and reach for the door handle of the car, but he stopped you. Reaching, he gently wrapped his hand around your forearm as you gripped the handle. His hold was soft, but you still couldn’t quite force yourself to look at him. There was no way to win a waiting game against a man like him, though. So, finally, you leveled your gaze with his.

“Talk to me,” it wasn’t a demand, if anything it almost sounded like a plea.

You sucked in a shaky breath as his thumb traced back and forth against your arm, “This can’t be over tomorrow, Horacio.”

The smallest of laughs slipped past his lips as he shook his head, “I didn’t think that it was going to be.”

It was a relief to hear him say it, but you couldn’t help but to ask, “You want this? Like, actually want this?” you knew there must’ve been a better way to say it, but you were willing to settle with whatever words your rattled brain could come up with.

He nodded, “Of course. I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t.”

“Okay,” you reached and rested your other hand on top of his.

“Okay,” he repeated the word back to you, a little more at ease knowing where your head was at.

“Are you staying tonight?” the hope in your voice was palpable.

“As long as that’s still alright.”

“Yea,” you nodded, “Of course. C’mon,” you laughed as you tugged on the door handle, “before I get emotional in the middle of the street, here.”

The soft laugh that slipped past his lips wasn’t lost on you. He slid his hand from between yours and stepped to walk around to his side of the car, pressing a soft kiss against the side of your head as he did.

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nocturnalwildflower · 4 years

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hurt; asher adams

summary: y/n finally opens up to asher about suffering from mental illnesses and self-harming

warning(s): SELF-HARM, depression, anxiety, cursing, mentions of parents dying, trauma, asher being cute af (not a warning but prepare yourselves hehe)

wc: 5.0k

A/N (PLEASE READ): I hope you all enjoy this and I lowkey got the idea from my own struggles with depression and anxiety, and I wanted to shine a light on self-harm although I haven’t experienced it personally. Please do not read this is self-harm or depression is a trigger for you as the whole basis of this one shot is self-harm and depression and the demons you face. Remember it’s okay to talk, and if you’re suffering, PLEASE get help. This one shot is an in-depth reality of depression that most people don’t know about and the aftermath of a depressive episode

masterlist ♡ prompt list

It was no secret to the Baker family that Y/N suffered with depression and severe anxiety because of her past. When Y/N’s parents passed away in a horrible car accident when she was only 6, Laura and Billy had no hesitation when it came to adopting her as one of their own as they were best friends with Y/N’s parents. It became apparent early on that Y/N suffered from depression and anxiety due to the trauma she had experienced, therefore the Bakers’ tried everything they could to make her feel safe, welcome and happy as well as sending her to therapy. The majority of the time, Y/N had a really good handle on things and went years without having a depressive breakdown, however, this year marked 10 years without her parents. The closer the day came, the more breakdowns she suffered, and Y/N couldn’t help but wonder why her parents had to die that day.

Not that she didn’t appreciate everything the Bakers’ have done for her, but she couldn’t help but wonder how much happier she would be if her parents didn’t die in that accident; how she wouldn’t be suffering and feeling like the only release was self-harming. She was too embarrassed to tell anyone how she was feeling, so she just resorted to self-harm as a way of releasing the pain, which seemed to be working. Her thoughts were interrupted when Billy knocked on her door and peaked her head in.

“Hey sweetie. No school again today?” he asked in a heavyhearted tone. Honestly, it broke his heart to see Y/N suffer with depression and begin her spiral into a depressive episode. He knew that there was only so much they could to for her, which included getting her a therapist whom she sees off and on depending on how bad her depressive breakdowns are. Y/N let out a sigh before responding.

“Next week, I promise!” she said in a somewhat cheery tone. Billy knew that this was just a ruse to get him to leave her room, however it did the opposite and he took a seat next to her on the bed.

“Sweetie, I think it’s time we put in a call to Dr. Morales and get you some appointments set up. We all love you so much and we hate seeing you suffer like this … please consider it,” he said, and Y/N’s eyes began to fill with tears. She knew that things were getting out of hand if he was suggesting therapy again, and she knew it meant she was going to have to face her demons yet again. Her lip began to quiver before she let out a cry, burying her head into his shoulder while he consoled her. She continued to sob, not knowing how to control her emotions and letting out as many tears as she could to get rid of the pain, even if it only a temporary form of release. Eventually, she had calmed herself down enough to speak to him.

“Billy, thank you so much for everything you and Laura have done for me over the past 10 years. I know this is hard to deal with, having a daughter with mental health issues, but I’m trying so hard to battle these demons like I have all the other times, it’s just too hard for me to do this alone …” Y/N said while wiping away her tears.

“You’re not alone Y/N. You have all of us here, and we will continue to support you until you are better. You know how much we love you and you know how much you’ve impacted our life, in a good way, but I think maybe it’s time to be honest with Asher about it … he’s going to find out eventually, and maybe if he knew what was happening, he could help you through this with us,” Billy said. He knew that having her boyfriend by her side through this battle would help her drastically; Y/N looked at him with a sorrow look in her eyes before responding.

“I-I know I need to tell him … I’m just not ready for him to see me this vulnerable yet. I promise, I’ll tell him when I’m ready,” she replied in a raspy voice. He smiled before giving her a kiss on the forehead and leaving her alone to be with her thoughts. No one knew she had been self-harming, so it was easy for them to leave her alone for the duration of the day; she hadn’t done it in a few days, and although there was a small voice inside her head that kept telling her to just pick up a blade and do it. She waited until she heard the front door close, signaling everyone was gone, before getting up and heading towards the bathroom. Y/N inhaled sharply before she opened the drawer where she kept her tools, staring at the blade for a few seconds, contemplating if this was the right thing to do and thinking about what Billy said to her. “We all love you so much and we hate seeing you suffer.” They loved her and they had given her so much, so why couldn’t she just let this go and stop? She inhaled sharply before picking up a blade, bringing it to her skin, and cutting, letting out a small whimper as the blood began to come out from her skin.

Back at school, Asher knew something was up with Y/N. The twins kept telling him that she was sick, but she had been dodging his calls and texts all week. He knew something was wrong because even if she was sick, there was no reason why she was avoiding his calls; usually all she wanted when she was sick was to cuddle with him and spend time with him. He decided to pull out his phone and text her one last time to see if maybe she was in the mood to talk about what was going on.

Hey baby, I know we’ve barely talked at all this week but I just wanted to say that you’re an amazing girlfriend and I can’t wait until you’re better so I can come see you!

He knew she more than likely wouldn’t respond, which wasn’t like her at all. To his surprise, his phone vibrated, and his face lit up when he saw that it was Y/N’s contact. The text was just a simple “You too,” but that was enough for him to have some concerns … she was always one to use emojis for almost everything and would usually get upset if he wasn’t using them enough.

“Okay guys, seriously what’s happening with Y/N? It’s almost like she’s fallen off the face of the earth, she’s hardly answering any texts, and she hasn’t been to school all week… I know she isn’t sick,” Asher said as he caught up to Jordan and Olivia after the final bell rang. Jordan let out a sigh, knowing that it wasn’t up to him and Olivia to tell him what was really happening with her however he knew they had to tell him something to get him off their backs.

“Asher, it’s just best that you talk to her yourself, it’s not up to Olivia and I to tell you what’s going on with her, it’s her choice on whether she wants you to know. I’m home by myself tonight, why don’t you come over and see her for yourself?” Jordan replied in a somewhat annoyed tone.

“Sounds good,” Asher said before getting into his car. He knew Jordan had a point, it wasn’t up to him and Olivia to tell him what was happening with his girlfriend. He hadn’t told her yet, but he was in love with her and cared about her more than anyone even realized. The boys on the team constantly made fun of him for how much he cared about her, but now he was beginning to think something else was going on with her. Was she cheating on him and couldn’t tell him? Did he come on too strong and force her into a relationship when she wasn’t ready? Did she want to break up and felt like couldn’t say anything to him about it? These thoughts kept flooding his mind from the time he walked in the door of his house until the time he left to go hang out with Jordan and get to the bottom of this behaviour.

Later on that evening, Y/N was sitting quietly watching her favourite show when she heard a knock on her bedroom door. She already knew it was Jordan because he was the only one home that night, so she closed her laptop and told him to come in. He peaked his head in before opening the door wider to reveal her boyfriend Asher, angering her.

“Jordan, I said I didn’t want any visitors. Asher included!” Y/N said angrily. Jordan just shrugged before mumbling a quick ‘sorry’ and turning around to exit her room, leaving Asher alone in her doorway. She rolled to face the opposite side of the room in order to avoid looking at him, hoping that he would get fed up with her and leave, however this act did the complete opposite.

“Y/N, you’ve been couped up in this room for over a week now … You’re dodging everyone’s calls and texts, skipping school, sulking away in your room and shutting us out. This isn’t like you at all, what is happening?” he asked in a soft, loving tone. Asher wanted her to open up about why she was feeling this way, even though he knew it was because the anniversary of her parents’ death was coming up. He had seen it before, she usually got sad for about a week but was okay otherwise, however this was different and something he had never seen before; he has never seen her shut her friends out and completely isolate herself from the rest of the world.

“Asher go away,” Y/N mumbled to her boyfriend as she sat up, staring at him with a somber look. Asher moved closer to her, eventually sitting on the end of her bed and staring into her gorgeous eyes. He could tell something was wrong with her; her hair was up in a bun that looked like it hadn’t been taken out in days, her eyes were puffy, the colour in her face was gone and she looked like she hadn’t eaten in days either. He hated seeing her suffer like this and knew he had to do something about it.

“Y/N, please tell me what’s happening. I want to be here for you, but I can’t unless you open up and tell me what’s wrong,” he responded, keeping his eyes on Y/N.

“It’s been 10 years Ash, 10 years since I last saw or spoke to my parents and I can’t even explain to you how much pain I’m in because of it. I’m so fucking embarrassed that it’s come to this, I felt like I couldn’t talk to anyone about how I was feeling and tell anyone how bad my depression had gotten, so I found another way to cope with the pain …” Y/N replied in a somber tone. She inhaled sharply before lifting up her sleeve hesitantly and exposing her forearm. Realistically, this was not a conversation she was prepared to have with him; quite frankly she never wanted him to find out and she was hoping this would all blow over before she needed to tell him. Y/N tried her best to keep the tears from rolling for her face, but they slowly started to fall from her beautiful Y/E/C orbs. She felt like she was being weak, risking her relationship with Asher by being vulnerable and showing him how much she was struggling.

Asher kept his eyes fixed on Y/N’s forearm. There was a slight discolouration where she had cut her arm with a razor blade recently as well as some faded scars further up her arm. He felt completely infuriated with himself that he let his girlfriend go through this alone and that she felt like she couldn’t come to him for help. He knew something was up when she never wanted to spend the night with him, but he blew it off because he didn’t want to pressure her into anything she didn’t want to do. He began to ponder about why she never came to him for help, until he realized that he had been so focused on keeping his endurance up during the off season and focusing on the next football season that he completely neglected her. Asher took Y/N’s hand into his, interlacing their fingers while gently lifting her chin so their eyes met.

“Y/N I’m so sorry I made you feel like you couldn’t come to me with this. I’m so angry that I let you go through this alone and made you believe that I wouldn’t support you. I want you to know that I’m still here, and I don’t plan on leaving. I’m here baby, you don’t need to hold on to this alone anymore because we’re going to get through this together. You have no idea how much better my life is because you’re in it, you have no reason to ever doubt this relationship and I’m not going to lose you because of your mental health,” he said, bringing his lips gently to her. More tears began rolling down her face as he continued to kiss her, placing his hands on her hips and pulling her closer to him. She gently pulled herself away from him before speaking up.

“Ash, you were so busy with training and I didn’t want to bother you with this because-” she began before Asher cut her off.

“Y/N enough. You and your mental health are much more important than anything right now, I’m here for you and we’re going to get through this because I love you so much it fucking hurts. Watching you spiral into a depressive episode is not something I want to see happen and I would do anything for you, you know damn well I’m not letting you go through this alone,” he replied with a smile. Y/N felt the butterflies in her stomach when she heard him say it. Those 3 little words. The words she thought she would never hear anyone tell her. I love you. She couldn’t believe that Asher Adams actually said that to someone like her when he just witnessed her in a state of depression. Y/N tucked a piece of her hair behind her ear and looked at him with loving eyes.

“Y-you love me?” she asked in a quiet tone. Asher gave her a confused look and laughed.

“Who wouldn’t? Y/N, you are hands down one of the best people to be around and you always make sure everyone is always having a good time. You’re smart, kind, caring, beautiful … the list could go on all day. You have no idea how happy I was when you agreed to go out with me, and I’m so thankful for everything you’ve done to help me and how happy you’ve made me. Now it’s time to get you back to being as happy as you were when we first started dating. I’ll say it again, Y/N Y/L/N I fucking love you, despite the demons you are currently battling” he said in a soothing voice, leaning in and pressing his lips to hers again. Y/N gently placed her hand on his neck and pulled him closer so that he was laying on top of her. She had to admit that it felt good to finally have this burden off her shoulders and she felt so much better now that Asher knew the truth. He pulled away and looked her up and down before speaking.

“Why don’t you spend the night at my place? You’ve been couped up in this room for over a week and a change of scenery might be good, plus if you’re up for it we could talk about all of this. Like I said Y/N, we’re going to get through this together because I love you,” he said in a soft tone, caressing her cheek and leaning in for one more small kiss. Y/N looked at him with loving eyes and smiled before she responded.

“I love you too … please take me home with you, that’s all I want right now babe,” she whimpered out in a soft voice. Asher proceeded to pack her a bag with everything she needed to spend the night at his place and grabbed her hand, gently leading her down the stairs and into his car. She had to admit that even something as small as leaving her bed made her feel better to some degree, but she knew this was only one small step towards beating this illness.

As soon as they walked in the door, Asher sat her down and made them both something to eat, making sure her meal was full of food that made her feel happy, however the smile on her face quickly faded when the food was placed in front of her. Demon #1: having to eat your first meal after a depressive breakdown. Asher picked up on this behaviour rather quickly and placed his hand in hers, grabbing her attention.

“I know it’s going to be hard for you to eat after that depressive breakdown, but you haven’t eaten in days baby. You need food in your system, please just try,” he said in a heavyhearted tone, earning him a half-smile and a small nod from his girlfriend. Truth be told, she didn’t want to eat; she was too embarrassed about what had just happened and was so emotionally exhausted to think about anything, her mind kept drifting and she kept thinking about how much she wanted this moment to be over so she could sleep the pain away. Y/N finished about half the food her lovely boyfriend had made for her, however this was more than enough to satisfy him, he was just proud that she tried for him.

After they finished eating, Asher took it upon himself to de-tangled Y/N’s hair from the bun it had been in before leading her to the shower and helping her strip down, knowing that she was too emotionally exhausted to do it all herself. He joined her in the shower, helping her wash her hair and comb it out, in addition to making sure her body was clean. He always kept a bottle of her shampoo, conditioner and body wash as his house, just in case she ever needed it while staying there. He made sure he had a warm towel for her afterwards and helped her brush her teeth; he picked her up bridal style, bringing her into his bedroom and gently laying her on the bed, staring into her eyes that were still as beautiful as the first time he looked at them.

Y/N laid her head on Asher’s chest, eyes focused on the movie that was playing on the flat screen television in front of them. He was too busy admiring her, thinking about how much he loved her and how lucky he was to have a girl like her, despite what she was going through. Her breathing was stable and somehow, she seemed to look even more perfect than earlier; she was playing with the hem of Asher’s shirt and turned to face him, catching him staring at her. She gently pushed herself up, closing the gap between them and bringing their lips together when his hands found their way around her waist, positioning her body on top of him. Her hands found their way to his head, ruffling his hair up while he pulled her in tighter, moving his lips from her mouth to her neck while mumbling a quick ‘I love you’ and placing his hands on her bum, before she stopped him.

“Asher I can’t … I can’t have sex with you this just isn’t the right time,” Y/N said in a fearful but quiet voice. Demon #2: being intimate with him after he just saw you in a vulnerable state. She began to tremble and proceeded to let out a small cry, releasing the tears she was holding in and placing her head in the crook of his neck. He began to slowly rub her back and coo in her ear to calm her down.

“Woah Y/N, that’s not what I was doing my love. Of course I want to have sex with you and show you how much I love you, but right now if definitely not the time. You don’t owe me anything, especially not your virginity, I love you whether we have sex or not. Just come here, try to stay calm and breathe babe,” Asher cooed as he let Y/N sob into his neck. He continued to rub her back, knowing that the only way she was going to progress towards success was by letting her release all of her emotions appropriately and he continued to coo in her ear until she began to calm down. His shirt was absolutely drenched in her tears, however eventually, she had stopped crying, pulling away to look at her boyfriend before she took a deep breath and began to speak.

“I’m sorry Asher I-” she began before he cut her off.

“Y/N, no apologizing please. Are you okay? What do you need me to do right now to make you feel safe and comfortable?” he asked in a soft tone. She put all her focus into taking nice, big, deep breaths as he continued to rub her back until he was given any sort of direction from her.

“Just lay here with me and hold onto my tightly, don’t let go until I fall asleep,” Y/N responded in a calm tone. Asher happily positioned himself so that their bodies were in the perfect position, he wrapped his arms around her and held on tight as she sighed in relief, giving him the impression that this was perfect; they laid there peacefully and quietly until they both snoozed off.

The following morning, Y/N woke up alone in Asher’s bed, knowing he was downstairs making her breakfast; he knew she hasn’t been getting a lot of sleep due to her anxiety and knew she would appreciate catching up on her sleep. She sat up on his bed and stretched, rolling onto the other side of the bed to check her phone; as expected, she had a text from Laura telling her that Billy and Jordan had filled her in on what was going on and reminded her that she was so loved in their family. She smiled, knowing that she had a wonderful family that will help her through this and an even more amazing boyfriend what would be by her side through all of the struggles. She shot a quick text back to her mom thanking her, just as Asher came around the corner with 2 plates of breakfast, placing one in front of Y/N. She noticed that her plate had a tad less food on it than his, which didn’t cause her much anxiety given the fact that she didn’t finish all of her food the previous night. He sat next to her on the bed and watched in awe as his girlfriend was eating, free of any nervous expression and looking like she was actually enjoying the food. He stayed quiet and let her enjoy her meal in peace before he spoke up.

“So your dad called me … you know that this means you’re going to have to call your therapist and start seeing him on a regular basis again right?” Asher said as his girlfriend took a sharp breath in. Demon #3: speaking to a therapist for the first time and admitting what you had was a depressive breakdown. She knew that this was coming, she just didn’t realize it would be so soon; Asher picked up on her body language and gently kissed her cheek while moving her chin with his finger so that she was facing him.

“You know that I’m here baby, you don’t need to go through this alone. I promise I will be here for you to make sure you take that little pill every day … hell I’ll even drive you to all of your appointments if I have to. Whatever it will take to help you get through this,” he said in a soothing tone. Y/N had to admit that he was taking this much better than she thought he was going to, and she kept hoping that he was going to genuinely keep his word to her about being there through all of this.

“I’m going to call them on Monday and make the appointment,” she replied in a low voice, resulting in a grin being plastered on his face. Asher slowly closed the gap between the two of them, bringing his lips to hers and caressing her cheek with one hand, while the other snaked around her waist, pulling her in closer. He couldn’t help but fall in love with her even more each time she found a new demon to battle and knowing that with all the love and support she was receiving from her family she was more than capable of beating them.

“Y/N, if you ever feel like you don’t trust yourself to be alone please call me. I don’t care if it’s 3am on a school night, if you don’t feel safe being alone I will come and get you, or I’ll stay on the phone with you as long as you need to me. I’ve said it 100 times and I’ll say it again, I love you so much it hurts, and I don’t want anything to happen to you,” Asher replied giving her a kiss on the forehead and holding her close. It still absolutely broke his heart that she had been going through this for weeks without anyone knowing and she was still too scared to tell her own family that she self-harmed; but he made her a promise and he fully intended on keeping it.

Throughout the day, Y/N’s mood seemed to improved little by little, although it wasn’t exactly where Asher wanted it to be, he was still thankful that Y/N was trying her best. The couple had just decided to lounge around Asher’s place, listening to slow music and enjoying each other’s company while Y/N opened up to her boyfriend a little bit more about what had been going on with the depression. He was extremely proud of her for finally opening up to him about her situation and he was grateful that she trusted him enough to come to him so he could support her. The couple was currently dancing around his kitchen, being natural and goofy like they always were.

“I hope you don’t mind, but I invited JJ, Spencer and Jordan over to hang out with us for a little bit later on tonight … if you don’t want them coming I can tell them not to,” Asher mentioned while he and Y/N were cooking dinner. Demon #4: returning to socialization with your friends after you have a depressive breakdown. Although this made Y/N nervous, she knew that it was something that had to be done in order to get her back on the right track with her mental health; she nodded her head and pulled her boyfriend in for a loving kiss, when they head the doorbell ring.

“Speak of the devils,” Y/N joked with a smile. Asher reciprocated the smile as he went to the door to greet his 3 best friends. Obviously JJ pulled her in for a friendly hug and made some kind of joke about how he feels like he hasn’t seen her in a while, not knowing the real reason; mind you, Y/N wasn’t ready for anyone else except for her family and Asher to know what was happening. The boys had skipped along into the kitchen and sat down, however, Jordan stayed behind and had a proud look on his face.

“I’m glad this happened Y/N. I’m proud of you for being honest with Asher about what was going on and you know we’re all going to be here with you when you battle this disease again … no matter how many times your depression comes back, we’re here for you,” Jordan said in a small voice so no one else would hear their conversation. She gave her brother a hug, muttering a quick ‘thank you’ and letting a couple of tears fall from her eyes. She gave him a smile as she pulled away and quickly wiped away her tears, taking a deep breath, and joining the boys at the table outside.

As Y/N laughed at one of the lousy jokes JJ made, Asher couldn’t take his eyes off her and was genuinely happy to see her laughing and having a good time, even though he knew that this boost in energy and confidence wouldn’t last all that long; he was just happy that in that moment, she was truly enjoying herself. He knew that helping her battle her depression was going to be an uphill battle and he knew it wasn’t going to be easy, but he was planning on sticking to his word and staying by her side through this fight. He knew that his life wouldn’t be the same without her and all he wanted was for her to be better so they could move on to the next chapter of their lives together. All he wanted to do was help her beat this because he loved her, and he would do anything to prove to her that he was here to stay, no matter what it took.

#cw #the cw #all american #all american imagine #all american one shot #asher adams #asher adams imagine #the cw all american #asher adams one shot #asher adams x reader #asher x reader #jordan baker #jordan baker imagine #jordan baker one shot

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rivalry-trope-enjoyer · 3 years

Text

Kaeya x GN! reader: Fake Dating AU

*Started a new series of the Genshin Impact boys as different romance tropes in one-shot form, starting with Kaeya! The list will go on soon and I plan for Diluc to be next. Disclaimer: May be a little bit OOC since this is my first time writing Kaeya.

The Kaeya as far as you had known has always been a sweet talker that wooed all the people of Mondstadt with a mysterious and alluring charm. You, too, had fallen victim to his hand.

Unfortunately, being a traveler with no permanent place to stay in all of Teyvat, it was customary to take someone like Kaeya with you on such adventures. You didn’t hate his company; he always loved to crack jokes even if it came with a flirtatious anecdote at the end. He had even already established sweet nicknames for you and even went as far as playfully calling you “sweetheart” or “dove” from time to time.

Spending time with him casually already seemed like a nightmare for your poor heart, and commissions and tasks were the exact same story.

This time around you were sent on an errand to take care of some Fatui agents with Kaeya around Mondstadt, the two most capable, arguably, of sneaking around when it came to the Knights of Favonius.

Around this time relations with diplomats have soured from the incidents that had happened in Liyue, and a lot of secretive moves are needed to take care of the root of the Fatui in Mondstadt.

The both of you have decided to embark on your journey, in which Kaeya had the faintest of ideas that he had under his sleeves on how to get through with the Fatui.

Upon arrival you both decide to approach them, careful with how you act and greeted them politely.

“What is your business with the Fatui?” they grab a blade under their coats as their masked faces pointed to you both.

Kaeya casually approached them and snaked his arm around your waist, pulling your closer causing you to blush instantaneously.

“I apologize for the intrusion, but my significant other had run a shop in Mondstadt, we sell sunsettias and apples that we farm in springvale and we have gone bankrupt from the unfair trade system of this entire nation!” Kaeya had played his part well, a little too well to make you realize how much he had been acting around you.

He had shocked you initially with his actions, and you had thought of it to be selfish to hold onto him like this a little longer and to just pretend.

You slowly embraced him back, which caused Kaeya to flinch initially, but tightened the grip he had on you like a warm embrace.

“He’s right,” you stated in a sullen tone. “My husband and I, we cannot make an honest living from this, and we had heard around that your code involved economics, so we hope that we can trust you to, even out the scales a bit,” you instantly lowered your head at them with respect and tugged at Kaeya to do the same.

Waiting for a response your heart tensed up ever so slightly, but when you heard a gruff “Fine” coming from the Fatui, your heart soared in excitement.

“We will avenge your little fruit stand at dawn tomorrow. Mondstadt’s knights will know terror,” she muttered before walking away and signaled for the rest of the Fatui to do the same.

Kaeya had immediately let go of you and the strong winds of Mondstadt had struck you ice cold. He gave you a flirtatious smile as he held your chin with his index finger and thumb close to your lip.

“You did a great job playing my significant other there, sweetheart,” he continued to call you these playful names that made your heart twinge in confusion and embarrassment.

Realizing his skills when it came to acting, you wondered if the affection that he gave you from time to time as well as this very moment was all a ruse.

Giving him a sullen face you slowly pulled his hand away from your chin, backing away from him and walking back to the headquarters.

“Hm? What seems to be the matter? Nothing Captain Kaeya can’t fix,” he ran to stand next to you, but you looked away from him, terrified of what he could do next to you.

“It’s nothing, Kaeya,” you wave him off. “Nothing you can do about it, anyways...,” you mutter the last line to yourself that he had barely heard with his own ears.

It was difficult for Kaeya to help you in such a depressed state that he had, and thought going about it by giving you space. After what had happened in the past, he preferred for you to have your moments before he’d butt in himself.

He distracted the thoughts by letting the Knights of Favonius know about the incident and prepare for a raid at dawn. However, when leaving Jean and Lisa had noticed something drastically different about Kaeya’s behavior; a worried look on his face.

Dismissing it as part of the Fatui’s attack, he had never really felt total fear towards them and knew how easily he could take a couple of their members head on. However, he found himself checking up on you and did not dare step in the bar he loved, knowing that because of his actions he would be the last thing that you would want to see.

In the mean time you spent a lot of time at the tavern, letting the bard’s music and lively atmosphere drown out your overthinking thoughts, as you waited till the next morning until you had to face the mysterious Kaeya yet again.

With a sword ready in hand and the other guards at the front of the headquarters, you watched the Fatui approach and soon became no match for the Knights of Favonius, countering the surprise raid with ease.

At first your swordsmanship kept you protected, but upon seeing Kaeya in a distance, you fumbled consistently. Forcing yourself to get back up in battle, he looked back at you, too. Worrying for your safety, a feeling that you would have last expected from him.

As you took on more of the Fatui agents than you can handle, one had crept up behind you, and aimed a blade towards your throat.

Fortunately, Kaeya was quick enough to act and knocked down the Fatui with a couple of blows, aiming a sword at their neck.

“Y/N! Quit slacking off you could have died there,” his normal cunning attitude and mocking remarks seemed to have lessened tenfold.

“What, are you acting about caring about my wellbeing now?” you were fueld with anger as you let it out on the enemy attacking, knocking them out in a similar fashion with swords clashing the blades of the Fatui.

“Well-” Kaeya parried the shots being thrown at him. “-If you consider me hiding what I’ve felt for so long acting, then I must be the most talented actor in-” he was cut off by quick attacks from the enemy. “-all of Teyvat!”

You were shocked at your statement, and in the heart of battle, yours filled with adrenaline from Kaeya’s words. “Wait-” you continued to battle those in front of you, swiftly putting them out of their misery with quick blows to free room to talk to Kaeya. “-Wait, why now?” you panted out with tire.

He let out a cocky laugh as he took on more of the agents. “Doesn’t matter when. Doesn’t matter if you thought I was faking it before. What matters is-” he grunted out of pain when he was forcefully hit at his side. “-That I got the message across, right?”

After hours of relentless battle he finally doubled down and the Fatui had retreated, leaving you with minor injuries but Kaeya taking on more than needed.

Sitting at his side on the battlefield, you grabbed medicine that was strapped to your waist. “Lift up your shirt,” you disregarded what he had said earlier in fear for his wellbeing.

“Are you sure you don’t need that medicine yourself, Y/N? You’re face is awfully red,” he outstretched a shaky hand to cup your face with a wry smile, his eye shimmering as he stared at you.

Your heart thumped rapidly when combining his previous words of confession and his present actions now. You froze in time to Kaeya’s cold touch and let him be in your company this time around.

“Shut it, Captain Kaeya,” you took out the medicine and poured it over his toned chest, hands shaking from the flustered feeling you had throughout.

“Ouch, who knew that someone without a cryo vision could be so cold to a person with one?” he winced at the stinging medicine covering his wound, and in return you held his hand cupping your face.

“I’m sorry,” you whispered to him. “It’ll only hurt a for a little bit longer before it heals, if it actually hurts at all,” you stubbornly let out.

He let out another weak laugh. “I wish I was faking it this pain this time around, Y/N, but everything I’ve said on this battlefield is the truth.”

You were silent at this point, working diligently to bandage his wound.

“Holding you had felt like I cradled the world in my arms, even if it was a temporary moment, dear,” his fingers tapped gently on your cheek. “Even if the idea of us being wed was fake, the feeling that significant others would have for each other felt real to me.”

You smiled at his notion, staring into his glimmering eye with the weak smile and face caked in scars and dirt.

Holding him close to you, you could not help but smile back.

“And you promise that you aren’t faking it this time?” you asked.

He laughed again, taking your hand and kissing your knuckles gently. “I promise what I feel is real, Y/N, and I’d love to show you for whatever days in Teyvat we have left.”

And in that moment, that fog of mystery unveiled Kaeya’s true nature and colors in front of you in a moment of vulnerability, one you wanted to cherish every moment and label as real.

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#genshin kaeya #genshin impact #genshin x reader #kaeya x reader #kaeya alberich #genshin impact kaeya #genshin oneshot #fake relationship #genshin fluff #genshin imagines #x reader #oneshots #mihoyo #gi kaeya

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lucy-the-cat · 2 years

Note

6,18,21 for the ask game :)

-drewtanakaed

Thank you! Love your profile pic :)

6) Do you outline your fics? If so, how?

So I have a couple different processes for this, most of which involve the Save the Cat Beat Sheet by Blake Snyder. However, what's more important to me is each event having a causal relationship, where A leads to B leads to C leads to D. Red Ruse is the project I've done the most outlining for, because my idea for Maven's character arc changed so drastically while I was drafting. I ended up dividing the entire project into four distinct parts: The Girl, The Snake, The Bride, and The Queen, and jotting bullet points for what I needed to happen in each section. I also did a beat sheet for it afterwards which helped me solidify the third act.

18) What's the most obscure thing you've researched for a fic?

What lightning feels like and how the scars look for Lover's Curse. Turns out it's a burning sensation, which probably doesn't translate well in Maven's brain (immune to fire), so I went with a needle description instead. If you don't know what scene I'm talking about, it's, uh, cursed. Very cursed. I dunno how to explain it.

Look, the chapter was titled "A Brand New Day"--

21) Writers choice - pick any of these questions that you want to answer.

Picking:

1) Who is your favorite character to write for and is this the character you find easiest to write for?

Maven, hands down. He's got so many layers and contradictions, and his perspective is so skewed I feel I learn something new each time I portray him. Self indulgent example:

A dagger to her chest as much as mine. My movements grew gentle, tracing her starved frame as though it had curves, as though we were in a happier plane where my love wasn’t poison and hers destruction. She retaliated with lies of her own, bitter ironies I swallowed with frightening ease.

Promise never to cage me. A pinch. Promise never to silence me. A bruise. Promise you’ll always listen, see my dreams as your own, forge a brilliant future with me as your equal.

Never, my dear.

Always, my dear.

Mare is generally the easiest to write, with the exception of Red Ruse. There's a delicate tone to balance there, one I can have difficulty nailing. In that case, Evangeline is a lot easier. Her motivations are clear, her voice is sharp, and Elane is always there to coax out her soft side when I need it.

#red queen #maven calore #maven #mare #mare barrow #red queen fanfiction #red queen fanfic #evangeline samos #evangeline

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hermannsthumb · 4 years

Note

If you're still taking requests!! Fake Dating situation where Newt and Hermann go to a public event together. they're used to being mistaken for a couple at the Shatterdome, so they expect to be mistaken for a couple at the event. But then they meet someone who definitely Does Not mistake them for a couple (because homophobia) and assumes they're just Very Good Friends. cue Newt and Hermann aggressively pretending to be a couple.

always and forever taking requests!!! this is such a fun one, THANK YOU

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

“We’ll have to go in eventually,” Newt says.

Next to him, Hermann silently fumes, apparently unable to decide whether to continue tugging at his stiff collar or grinding the bottom of his cane—over and over, in a sort of circle—against the sidewalk, leaving streaks of black rubber behind. “I hate these damn things,” he says under his breath, though it’s unclear whether he means his outfit or the event. Hermann’s dressed up tonight in a suit that’s hilariously oversized (even for him) and fraying in places, with a bowtie that he’s knotted crookedly. Newt wonders if the suit’s a hand-me-down from his brother. “Begging for funding, as if we haven’t anything better to do with our time. As if we’re not working for the better of all of them. It’s bloody degrading.” He works his jaw angrily. “And if that isn’t enough—everyone always makes—assumptions—about us.”

Oh, okay. The event. “Assumptions?” Newt says.

Hermann lets out a hiss of air between his teeth. “Assumptions,” he repeats, delicately. “About—ah—the certain nature of our relationship.”

“Oh,” Newt says. “Oh.”

At the last one of these things they went to, someone (actually generous enough to open their checkbook for once) asked Hermann whether they should make it out to the PPDC or Dr. Gottlieb and his husband. At the one before that, a dinner event, the name placards at their table said Dr. Newton Geiszler-Gottlieb and Dr. Hermann Geiszler-Gottlieb. Before that, at a more casual affair at an up-scale bar, some tech hottie sent Newt a martini, before hurrying over and apologizing in person that (gesturing between Newt and Hermann) he didn’t realize Newt was with someone. Newt really wishes Hermann would just get it through his head already that introducing someone as your partner and dropping the important research part of it tends to hold drastically different connotations outside of, like, the group of people who know them on the Shatterdome base, because that would clear up probably sixty percent of the confusion. If not just so he can pick up a few numbers at these things for once. Still, though—for some reason it’s never really bothered him like it clearly bothers Hermann, but Newt supposes he’s not exactly a catch by any standards, so it makes sense. “I just don’t know where they get the impression—” Hermann begins, and Newt interrupts him.

“Yeah, well, you should take it as a compliment,” he says. “You could do a lot worse than me.” He opens the door for Hermann and ushers him in. “Seriously, we’ll be late if we don’t go in now, and that makes it, like, twice as awkward.”

As usual, they have to sit through some incredibly boring speech about how they’re sitting among some of the best scientific minds of the century right now, how they’re honored to play host to their colleagues at the PPDC, how the buffet will opening shortly for dinner, and then a different person gets up and makes another speech, and then another person with another, until finally the first person gets back up and promises that closing remarks will be in three hours, and how they should all enjoy themselves until then. Claps. Under his breath, Newt says to Hermann, “Doubt it.”

“Which side shall I take, then?” Hermann sighs. He’s probably the only one in the room not clapping. He told Newt a while ago that he doesn’t like to put on airs, and especially not in the service of flattering someone’s ego, and he’ll only clap for a speech if he feels it deserves it. He’s such a weirdo.

Newt surveys the room, considering. Luckily, people tend to flock together in similar little groups at these things. Birds of a feather shit. “Left. Everyone on the right is too young and hip-looking, so that’s out of your range.” He gets a cane to his shin, and grins even has he winces. “Kidding. Let’s just do it together, it’ll make it more bearable.”

Their first target is a forty-something marine biologist who’s very excited to meet Newt— “I followed your research on jellyfish for years!” she says. “I had no idea you’d be here tonight!” —and who is more than happy to promise donating a little to help fund the war effort. Their next is someone younger than both of them, whom Newt suspects is heir to his dad’s tech company or something, and who is easily guilted into promising even more than the biologist. “We’re having a lot better luck than usual,” Newt says, as they watch the kid hurry away to mingle with a group of other twenty-somethings. “Do we look more, like, respectable tonight or something?”

“It’s the open bar,” Hermann says.

“Yeah, probably,” Newt agrees.

“And anyway, we’re still terribly behind on our goal, so there’s no use getting too pleased over ourselves,” Hermann says. He sniffs. “If you still want that bloody—whatever it was—kaiju spleen, we need at least—”

“Okay, okay,” Newt says.

He nods at a small group standing by one of the buffet tables, holding half-eaten plates. People tend to be in better moods when they’ve eaten something. Hopefully more generous moods too. “Let’s try them,” he says.

Hermann is the one to initiate the conversation this time, launching at once into a variation of the little script he and Newt penned so long ago the night before their very first gala. “Good evening,” he says. They get a few polite smiles and nods of acknowledgement in return. “I’m Dr. Hermann Gottlieb, and this is my partner—” Newt tries not to groan. “—Dr. Newton Geiszler. We’re here representing the PPDC tonight. I don’t suppose we could have a moment of your time?”

The mood of the group changes immediately, but why Newt can’t figure out; it’s like they suddenly go hostile on them. Hostile, and tense. Newt is suddenly astutely aware of how each of the three dudes have a good few inches on both him and Hermann. “The PPDC?” the guy in front says. He's not smiling anymore. Maybe they all supported the jaeger program defunding or something. “Sure.”

“Er,” Hermann says. He clears his throat. “Newton—that is, my partner and I work for the kaiju research division at the PPDC’s Hong Kong base. As you may well be aware, the latest cuts to the PPDC’s budget have been quite dev—”

“So you and your friend,” the guy says, with a little more emphasis on the friend than Newt would like, “are going around asking for donations? To help buy pencils or something?”

“Well. Essentially,” Hermann says. He doesn’t seem to have picked up on what Newt did, though he grows visibly nervous anyway. Outright hostility isn't anywhere near as common as indifference at these sorts of things. “Though, pencils is—er—a vast understatement.” He casts a furtive, desperate glance at Newt—a help me if Newt ever saw one. “My partner—Dr. Geiszler—simply doesn’t have enough funding for the samples he needs to study—and donations would certainly help with our funding for other necessary supplies—"

“I sure we’d love to help you and your friend,” the same guy says, and there’s no missing the emphasis this time, “but we’re a little busy at the moment. Please come back and talk to us later, though.”

Hermann clamps his mouth shut. Newt narrows his eyes, and in a move bold enough to surprise even himself, snags Hermann’s arm and links his own with it. “Sure thing,” he says loudly. Hermann goes rigid and stiff under him. “Come on, babe, let’s get something to eat. I know how you get when you’re hungry.” Then, before he can stop himself, he brushes a single kiss at Hermann’s cheek, and tries not to laugh at the looks they get.

He waits until they’re out of eyesight (Newt having had to sort of drag Hermann along with him) to drop Hermann’s arm. Hermann hasn’t moved a muscle since Newt touched him, and even now, he just sort of blinks at Newt. “What on Earth—?”

“Dude,” Newt says. “That guy was a total jerk. He thought we were together, and—”

“He did not,” Hermann says. “He kept calling you my ‘friend’. It was a bloody nice break from what usually happens, I might add, and now you’ve gone and—”

“Hermann,” Newt says. He sighs. “You’re, like, totally missing my point. He thought we were together.”

“But he called you—”

“Yeah, exactly,” Newt says.

Hermann blinks a few more times. “Ah,” he says.

“No way in hell do we need his money,” Newt says. “Anyway, sorry about the—” He touches Hermann’s cheek, and then gestures to Hermann’s left arm, which is now just sort of hanging limply at Hermann’s side. “I just wanted to screw with him. I won’t do it again, though—”

“No!” Hermann says quickly. The tips of his ears go red, and he fumbles as he grabs Newt’s arm again. A sudden warmth situates itself like pressure over Newt’s chest, identical to the kind that’s creeping up his wrist where Hermann’s fingers just grazed his bare skin, and he’s struck with the sudden bizarre urge to duck his head and blush himself. Since when has Hermann had this kind of effect on him? “What I meant to say is—” Hermann licks his wide lips. “He might still see us. We ought to—to keep up the ruse.”

“To really screw with him?” Newt says.

“For what other reason?” Hermann says.

Newt forces himself to keep a smooth, neutral expression as Hermann unwinds his arm to lace their fingers together instead, with a lot more awkward fumbling. “Uh-huh,” he says. He remembers how soft and smooth Hermann’s cheek had felt, so unlike his own, which can never seem to hold a clean shave. How nice Hermann's hand feels in his now. He’s definitely going to have to unpack this later. “Yeah, that’s—good idea, Hermann. Let’s do that.”

#newmann #maria's fanfiction tag #Hermann's POV in this fic is just newt touching his hand - REALIZATION #Anonymous

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noladyme · 3 years

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La Cuervo - Chapter 14

She is used to the biker-life, having grown into a woman in the familiar embrace of SAMCRO. A bad decision and a gun-shot later, she gets whisked off to Santo Padre, and put under the protection of another club. What is supposed to be a short stint in the Mayan headquarters just north of the border to Mexico, turns into something more; when la quervo begins to develop feelings for el angel - and he seems to return them in kind...

TW: violence, blood, drug use, alcohol, smut, fluff, angst

In the spirit of "The Crown Princess of Charming", this is a story about O.C. Nina and Angel Reyes. It is obviously non-canon, as characters who have passed on on Mayans M.C. are present in it, and others have been excluded completely. Nina is written as a cis-female, but I have tried to keep her race and looks as ambigous as possible. Should you find any of this story offensive, please let me know.

It wasn’t until Nina was alone, that realization struck her. She’d just agreed to leave Angel. Her Angel. The man who had brought her back to life. The thought struck her like a freight train, and she froze in place, almost literally. Her whole body went cold, and she felt like she couldn’t move for the longest time. The light in the room told her she must have sat like that for at least an hour. Finally able to move her head to look down, she looked at the crescent shaped cuts in her palms from her nails. Something wet began dripping onto them, and she found tears had begun running down her cheeks, without her even noticing it. Forcing her arm to reach for the pillow next to her, she took a deep breath, and held it to her face; before a wail like no other left her mouth. She screamed out her agony, not having felt anything like it since she’d been told that Jackson had gone through with his plan to kill himself. It was as if an actual death had occurred again; but this time it felt like her own.

After a while she put down the pillow again, and got to her feet. She opened the cabinets, and began pulling out he few belongings she’d brought to Santo Padre, and stuffed them in her backpack. Then she made the bed, and went into the small bathroom for her toothbrush. It looked so alone there, as if it missed standing next to Angel’s. She tore herself from the thought, and went to put that into her bag as well. Only the gun and her inhaler were left, and she went to pick them up, when she noticed the phone Bishop had given her laying on the counter by the sink. She picked it up, and sat down on the cot again.

She wasn’t sure who to call. No one could change her situation as it was; but she needed something – anything – to help her through. Just a voice to remind her that it wasn’t all for nothing. Looking at Jackson’s journal and the photo of his boys – which she’d saved for last – the answer came to her. She dialed up the number, praying to god that it was still the same as last time she’d used it. The call was picked up at the second ring.

“Hello?”. “Wendy? It’s Nina”, she said. “Hey, Nina. How is everything?”, Wendy replied. Nina heard a ruckus in the background. “Thomas, no more cookies…! Sorry. Someone decided sugar was a good replacement for lunch... Chibs told me you were going to Mexico”. Nina swallowed thickly. “Yeah… No, not really. I’m somewhere else”. “Well, I hope you’re enjoying yourself. What I’d give for a vacation…”, Wendy said. Nina knew she was just kidding. Wendy had never been happier than since she moved to the farm with the boys and Nero. “Yeah, well; vacation is over”, Nina muttered. “I was wondering if I could talk to the kids for a minute”. “Of course! They miss you”, Wendy said. There was another sound of something crashing in the background. “Sorry, I need to give Tommy a bath. No! We don’t wipe peanut butter on our faces…!”. Another crash. “Goddammit. Abel! Come to talk to aunt Nina while I help your brother… Take care, Nina”. Nina couldn’t help but smile a little, as she heard Wendy chase Tommy around the room. There was a short scrambling noise, before someone spoke again. “Hi, aunt Nina!”, a bright, young voice said on the other end. “Abel… Hi, buddy”, Nina said, instantly falling back into tears; but trying to stifle her sniveling. “How are you doing?”. “I’m ok… But Tommy broke my supersoaker…”. “Aw, that sucks. I’m sure he’s sorry”, Nina said. “Yeah, mommy Wendy made him apologize… You sound sad…”, Abel said. Nina wiped her eyes, as if the boy was right there in front of her. “No, I’m not sad. I just smelled your feet through the phone, and it made me cry”, she replied. “No, you didn’t!”, Abel laughed. “When are you gonna come visit? There’s a mule here, and we named him after you, even though he’s a boy; because daddy always said you were stubborn as a mule. And we have a trampoline, which is really cool, ‘cuz you can jump high. When I stretch up my arms when I jump, I’m almost as tall as Nero! And…”. “That’s great Abel. I’d love to see that…”. Nina sighed and closed her eyes, trying to picture the boy in front of her. He’d probably grown quite a bit, even after the picture Wendy had sent her was taken. “Are you being good for mommy Wendy?”. “Yeah, I eat my broccoli and everything. And I help Nero clean the horse-stalls”, Abel said. “That’s good. And you’re doing good in school?”, she asked, having to wipe her nose a bit. “Yeah… Do you have a cold? Your voice is funny”, Abel replied. “No, it’s still your feet, stinky!”, Nina chuckled. She heard bikes arriving on the lot, and felt another crying fit threatening to attack. “Look, buddy; I gotta run. I just wanted to make sure you were ok”. “I’m ok. Come visit us soon!”. “I promise, Abel. I love you!”. “Love you too. Bye!”. Abel hung up the call before Nina could say anything more. She quickly slipped the photo into the journal, and put it in her bag, before getting to her feet to face Angel.

---

The Mayans all looked to be in a good mood, when Nina opened the trailer door to step outside. EZ, Gilly and Coco went to gather the loaded sleep rolls, while Angel turned to look at her; a bright smile on his face.

Daniella came out of the clubhouse, and stood on the porch. She smiled shortly at Nina, before Angel noticed the blonde, and began approaching her. “Dani, we gotta talk”, he said. “Angel!”, Nina called out. He turned around, and looked at her confusedly. “Give me a minute”, he replied. “No. Now”, Nina declared, and stepped back inside the trailer. The Mayans all looked confused at this point, but didn’t intervene. Angel frowned, and gave Daniella a short look. She shrugged, before looking at Nina; palming her phone. Don’t try anything, she seemed to be saying. “Don’t go anywhere”, Angel said to her, and walked towards the trailer. “I’ll be right here, baby”, Daniella said.

Once inside the trailer, Angel closed the door. “Nina, what the fuck? I was just about to…”. “Daniella’s not the snitch. I talked to her”, Nina cut him off. “You what?”, Angel growled. “Girl talk”, Nina said. “She’s just here for you. Not to sell out your club”. She made herself keep an indifferent face while she spoke. “You should give her a chance”. “I’m not… What are you talking about?”.

Nina sighed deeply, and took a step back. “You and me… That was never gonna work out”. He tried to reach for her hand, but she turned around to throw her inhaler and gun into the bag. “Nina… What are you doing?”, Angel asked. “I’m leaving… Going home”, she replied. “Or somewhere else. I haven’t decided yet”. “You’re not going anywhere!”, Angel exclaimed, and yanked her bag out of her hands. “What the fuck is going on?”. Nina clenched her fists to hide the fact that her hands were shaking. Angel wouldn’t let her go unless she did something drastic. She swallowed thickly, and met his eyes with an indifferent gaze. “You people can’t protect me. I’m safer with SOA; what happened to Camille is proof of that”, she said. The furrow between Angel’s brows was deeper than ever. “I wasn’t gonna tell you this, but I talked to SAMDINO. I’m gonna take up Packer’s offer”. Angel looked like he’d been punched in the gut with a sledgehammer. “Packer… You wanna go be with Packer…”, he croaked. “Yeah… He’s… We’ve got history”, Nina lied. Angel’s expression was growing pained, but in spite of wanting to take him in her arms, and comfort him, Nina had to continue her ruse. “You said I was too good for this life. I’m not. I just want more than what you can give me. Queen of SAMDINO is the right step for me”.

She tried taking her bag back from Angel, but he threw it behind him; and grabbed a hold of her shoulders. “This is bullshit. What happened?”, he said. “I changed my mind. I don’t want to stay here”, Nina replied. “I’m sorry about that year I owe the club, but I’ll try to get some money, and have Chibs pay you whatever Bishop thinks I owe”. “This isn’t about money. You said you love me!”, Angel said, his voice breaking. Nina couldn’t say she didn’t; the words simply would not form in her mouth. She closed her eyes to avoid meeting Angel’s gaze, and let out a deep breath. “This isn’t about whatever I said or… felt”, she finally said. “We should have ended this the night we first slept together. It shouldn’t have gone further”. “Cuervo…”, Angel tried. “We’re done”, Nina declared, and forced his hands off her shoulders, before pushing past him, and grabbing her bag. “I’m sorry”. She almost ran out of the trailer, knowing Angel would physically try to stop her if she didn’t. “Nina!”, he called after her. She looked towards the porch; and through a haze of unshed tears, she saw Daniella smiling as she went.

Before anyone had a chance to stop her, Nina slipped into the front office, and dug out the small cashbox Chucky kept there. She felt bad for taking money from it, but she needed cash for wherever she was going. A few notes in hand, she ran off the lot, and down the road. Avoiding getting found in Santo Padre was difficult, as Nina had spent very little time away from the scrap yard. She knew she had to work fast to get as far away as possible, as soon as possible. There was no doubt in her mind that Angel would try to come after her – he was probably already on his way – and if he didn’t, Bishop might, to get her to fulfill her one-year promise.

Once out on the main road, she flagged down a car, and convinced the driver that she needed to get to a bus station; because her brother was sick, and she had to go see him. She was only half lying, she realized, as there was really only one place in the world she wanted to go in that moment. She had to go see her brother.

---

It took a little over a day to make the trip back to north California. The cash Nina had taken from the scrapyard could only get her so far by bus, and she had to hitch rides the rest of the way. Each time she heard the sound of a motorbike, or saw anyone wearing leather, she had the instinct to duck her head. She wasn’t sure what she was afraid of. Clearly, her cover wasn’t blown yet. Daniella wanted her alive, and if there was another snitch, they didn’t seem to be focused on her. It might have been the shame of how she’d run; how she’d been too weak to fight Daniella for what she wanted. Then again, that shame would have been greater and even more devastating, if fighting back had meant it would hurt her nephews. Ultimately, she was just distraught; and only wanted to speak with one person – even if he couldn’t reply.

It was just past midnight, when Nina finally made it to Redwood Memorial Cemetery, just outside of Charming. She’d gotten used to the heat in Santo Padre, and it was a cold night. With nothing more than a light jacket to cover herself, she was shivering as she walked down the rows of gravestones. She halted for a moment by a white stone, engraved with the name John Thomas Teller. Taking a moment to brush some stray leaves from the top of it, Nina sent a thought to the man who’d sired one of the most important people in her life; before moving on. Someone had left a bouquet of lilies on Tara’s grave. Her coworkers at St. Thomas, Nina figured. She chided herself for not having visited the grave more often, but coming to the cemetery had been painful the last couple of years. A fresh grave nearby sported multiple flower arrangements, and as no one was around, Nina nabbed a few roses from it, and left them next to the lilies. “Abel and Thomas are loved and safe. Sleep tight”, she whispered to the stone.

The last ten yards she had to walk towards her end goal felt like miles. A cold gush of wind made Nina shudder, and she threw her arms around herself; trying to rub some heat into them.

Jackson’s stone looked lonely, in spite of all the other’s surrounding it. It was like he had been in the last year of his life; surrounded by people, but alone in his pain. At the same time, it was incredibly peaceful; like it should be. He’d found rest from his torment and sorrow. Nina imagined him riding his bike down an ethereal highway; his father next to him, and Tara riding pivot. “Fucking soppy”, Nina chuckled to herself.

She sat down on the ground next to the stone, and ran her fingertips over the lettering. Jackson Nathaniel Teller. “I miss you…”, she began. She chewed her lips, and wiped away a stray tear. After a moment searching for the right words, she finally sighed. “I am so angry with you, Jackson. You left me… And I love you as well. I love you for everything you taught me about being a good person; which just makes me even more angry, because I’ll never be able to live up to the example you set… I fucked up. I took so many wrong turns after you died; even though I promised… I know you expected more from me, and I’m so sorry; but I’m not strong enough to…”. The stray tears had become two steady streams falling from her eyes. “You said, be happy… And I was really happy for the first time in what felt like forever. But I can’t be happy, and also live up to your example of protecting your family… My family”. She pressed the heels of her hands into her eyes, as if trying to force herself to stop crying. “Your boys are safe, and I’m gonna keep them that way. That means breaking my promise of being happy to you, but I also know it’s what you would do… So, I guess in some way, I’m still doing what you taught me…”. She took a deep breath, and finally the tears stilled.

Nina moved behind the stone, and leaned her back against it; as she had sat back-to-back with Jackson on the roof of the old clubhouse in Charming, before the explosion. She remembered how her whole body would rumble along with Jax’s; as he laughed at whatever ridiculous thing she would tell him about her day – or the time she’d told him she was planning to drop out of high school, and sign up with CaraCara once she turned 18. Yeah, that’s not happening, darlin’. I’ll tie your ass to the seat, until you’re wearing that cap and gown. I don’t wanna see my little sister’s naked ass on camera. It was that conversation, and his response, that made her keep the fact that she’d quit community college hidden for a full week; before Chucky sold her out. A pang of pain struck her heart as she remembered that she hadn’t even said goodbye to the good-humored little man.

After a long moment, Nina began speaking again “I know I can’t live in memories, but it’s the closest thing to happiness that I have now… And I want to tell you about him”. She took a deep breath, almost as nervous as if Jackson would have been able to respond. “His name is Angel… and you would hate him”, she chuckled. “He’s a biker… surprise! Bet you didn’t see that coming… He’s smug, and a smartass; and a horny little shit… He’s also a Mayan… I know! But he’s also… so kind and full of life… and sofucking hot… which is something I guess you didn’t need to know”. She chewed her lower lip, and closed her eyes, seeing Angel in front of her. “He’s got this dimple between his eyebrows when he gets frustrated or confused – which is quite often, if I’m gonna be honest… And he’s so much smarter and warm and lovable than he gives himself credit for. I’ve never felt more loved and cared for, than when I was with him… I mean, I felt that from you, and from Filip and the rest; but… This was different, because I wasn’t just a sister or a friend. I love him. Like love him…”. She frowned. “But it’s over. I had to end it”.

The cold was getting to her, so the shivers from her pain mixed with ones of freezing. She hadn’t eaten or drank anything for more than a day, and she was exhausted. She looked around her, not ready to leave; and not really knowing where to go anyway. Opening her backpack, Nina got out the journal, and opened a random page; running her fingers over the handwritten words. “Know that the decisions that you make effect everyone and everything, along with yourself. It has taken me a long time to realize that, and I wish I would have sooner. And as much as I want to help you, tell you what to do; I can't. Those choices will be yours, and yours alone. The only advice I can give you, is to examine who you are as a person and what you choose as your path in your life. Find your own truth. It will lead you to the things you love”. “I wish you could help me too”, she whispered. “I don’t know what my path is, and I can’t promise to get over this. I can’t promise that I will be happy; and we both know me well enough to know, that I’m not gonna handle this well… So, I’m just not gonna make any of those promises; it wouldn’t be honest of me if I did…”. She clutched the journal against her chest, and fished the .38 out of the bag; holding it in her hand. Nina sat for a long time, just looking at it. “I’m gonna sleep now. And then I’m gonna drink, and smoke, and try to get laid… and do everything else unhealthy, until I can finally become numb enough to… not chose your path”.

She had nothing else to say; simply couldn’t find the words. Instead, she curled up on the cold ground, closed her eyes; and let sleep take her over.

---

“Nina?”. She heard footsteps heading her way. Filip looked down at her disheveled state, and then at the gravestone and the gun in her hand; and his face dropped. “She’s here”, he said. Tig and Happy came up behind him. “Shit, muffin. What happened?”, Tig asked. Happy frowned. “Chibs, why is she here?”. “Not now, Hap’”, Filip said. “Let’s just get her out of here. Get the gun”. One of them scooped her into their arms; she was too exhausted to notice who…

---

The radio was turned all the way up, and she was swaying her hips to the music.

“Nina, get off the counter!”, Filip called out from across the room. He looked almost angry. Nina took a sip of her beer, and stretched her arms into the air. “Why? I thought the party was about to start…”, she laughed. Filip walked over to her, and wrapped his arms around her legs, making her fall over his shoulder. “Yes. A children’s birthday party. This is an ice cream shop, you lush”, he growled, and carried her out the back door; setting her down at the foot of the stairs going up to the actual SAMCRO clubhouse. She noticed Rat smiling apologetically at the arriving guests; which consisted of a group of 7-yearolds, and the flabbergasted mother of the birthday-boy. “Tell them I’m sorry”, Nina whispered very loudly to Filip, before looking towards the mother. “I’m sorry!”, she yelled.

Filip dragged her up the stairs, and more or less threw her on one of the leather couches. “Jesus Christ, Nina…”, he sighed exasperatedly. “We do actually need the front of this operation functioning”. “Pfft”, Nina sputtered. “Everyone in town knows what this place is. You’re leather clad bikers who sell guns, for fucks sake! I need a drink”. She went to get off the couch, but Filip pushed her back down, and took the beer bottle from her hand. “You’ve had enough”, he said. “Get some sleep”. “No sleep ‘til Charming!”, Nina sang. “You’re in Charming", Tig said, having come over from the bar area. He snatched her pack of smokes from her, before she could get them from the coffee table, and held out a glass of water. Nina scrunched up her nose. “Fish pee in that”, she said. Tig sat down, and lifted the glass to her lips. “Don’t make me hold your nose”, he said. The water looked a little murky, but Nina accepted the glass, and drank it all, before throwing it into the air. Filip caught it mid-air, and rolled his eyes. “Buzz-kill”, Nina sneered.

She leaned back in her seat, before suddenly, her stomach began rumbling violently. Tig sprang for a trashcan, and held it in front of her; just in time for Nina to hurl a week's worth of alcohol and Happy’s scrambled eggs into it. “What was in that?”, Filip grunted. “Bit of charcoal”, Tig said. “Better than taking her to get her stomach pumped at St. Thomas’”. “I hate you…”, Nina heaved between two streams of vomit leaving her mouth. “I know, muffin. I love you too”, Tig smiled, and stroked her back.

After what seemed like hours, Nina finally had nothing left inside her to throw up, and she curled up on the couch. “Now I’m sober… thanks”, she said sarcastically. “Give me my cigarettes”. Filip went to get her bag, and dug out her toothbrush; handing it to her. “This is all you’re putting in your mouth for now”, he said. “Add toothpaste. You smell like death”. Nina disgruntledly took the toothbrush from him, and got on her feet to go to the bathroom; grabbing the toothpaste from her bag on the way.

Once she’d finished brushing her teeth, and splashed some cold water in her face, she went back into the bar area. “You’ve kept me here for days. I wanna go back to my apartment”, she said. “You can’t. Lyla’s using it as a set today”, Tig said. Nina groaned. “They’re gonna get porn-cum on my sheets”, she said. “Wouldn’t be the first time. What was that fella’s name again…? Kirk?”, Filip laughed, and went behind the bar to pour himself a scotch, and fill a mug of coffee. Happy and T.O. came up the stairs as they spoke. “I just remember him as; Please-god-no-I-swear-I’ll-never-talk-to-her-again-guy”, Tig said indifferently. “I think Opie took care of that one”. “Nah, that was Jax himself”, Happy said. “He’s teaching history in Milwaukee now”. “The history of his once functioning penis, I gather”, Filip muttered and looked at Nina, who’d sat down by a table. “Did he know you were 17?”. “I was 19!”, Nina sneered. “And his name was… Fuck, I can’t remember… Look, call Lyla, and then take me home!”.

Filip sat down across from her, and slid the coffee over the table. Nina took a welcome sip of it. “I don’t trust you on your own”, he said softly. “Is that why you won’t give me back my gun?”, she muttered. “You remind me too much of your brother at the moment”, he replied. Rage and sadness streamed through her body, and Nina got up; kicking her chair hard, making it fall to the floor. “Then give me a goddamn bike, and I’ll hit the road. There are trucks enough out there!”. She speed across the room, trying to reach the stairs; but T.O. got in her way, and grabbed her shoulders. He pushed her backwards into Happy’s arms. He picked her up like she weighed nothing more than a small child, and deposited her on the couch. He looked down at her with enraged eyes, tears forming in the corners of them. “Don’t ever say that again! Ever!”, he growled. Nina was shook, and suddenly her body began quaking. She sobbed quietly, and covered her eyes with her hands. Happy sat down next to her, and pulled her into his arms. “I’m sorry… I’m so sorry”, she whimpered. “I know, princess”. He rocked her back and forth, and kissed the top of her head.

Nina looked up, and was struck by each of the Sons’ expressions; ranging from sad, to angry, to pained. “I can’t stop fucking up… All I do is hurt people…”, she sobbed. Filip reached his hands out, and Happy released her to take them, and be pulled into the president’s embrace. “You are pure light, my love”, he said, before cupping her tear-streaked face in his hands. “Stop trying to snuff it out… I’m not talking about threatening to off yourself; we both know that will never happen, because we won’t allow it”. He pressed his forehead to hers. “You have to stop thinking of yourself like a failure not worthy of happiness. Stop killing that flame inside you”. “But I can’t be happy…”, Nina croaked. “If I try to be…”. She halted herself. She hadn’t told anyone of her deal with Danielle. “Tell me…”, Filip said. “I can’t”, Nina replied resolutely. “It’s… life or death”.

She pulled herself out of his grasp, and went for her cigarettes; which Tig had put on the top shelf behind the bar. He didn’t try to stop her. “Everything we do is life or death”, T.O. said. It was the first words he’d spoken since he’d arrived, but they were poignant. Nina lit her cigarette, and hesitantly met his eyes. “This is different”, she said. “If it was just… No”. She took a draw of her cigarette, picked up the chair from the floor, and sat down by the table again. “This is how it is now. I’m home, and I’ll try to… be better”.

They were interrupted by Quinn coming up the stairs. He looked around at the emotional faces in the room, and frowned. “Did you guys watch the Notebook again?”, he asked with a smirk. “Whatever; wrap it up. We got the in-laws incoming”. Nina frowned in confusion. “What’s going on?”, she asked. Filip gave her a half smile. “You wanted to go home; didn’t you…?”.

A roar of motorcycles sounded from outside, and Nina looked out of the window. A group of bikes came down the street, led by a brusque looking man on a roadking – handlebars high as the sky.

---

tag: @cole-winchester @doloreschanal

#angel reyes #angel reyes fic #angel reyes x oc #sons of anarchy #mayans mc #mayans mc fic #sons of anarchy fic #jax teller

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beastenraged · 3 years

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i want to say that tempests!terra would be confused but not surprised that ruse seems to dislike him for whatever reason. mostly he's just trying to make sure ven doesn't make more unversed than is advisable from ven's dislike of ruse's dislike of terra alone. (on a different note, imagining how the tempests characters would interact with tell me characters is very fun. i wonder how alt!xehanort meeting guide of departure would go, since they are very technically kind of the same person, made drastically different by life circumstances?)

Ooooh, all very good thoughts. Here, have a ficlet under the cut! (Pardon me if my tempests!ven's characterization is whack, I'll do my best!)

I lean back against the wall, trying not to expose my limp. It'll heal up soon enough, even after this Ven hamstringed me earlier.

Man, I really hate Keyblades. They suck.

"Look, I just have one question, if you can answer it as simple as you can. Why do you like Terra so much? Why him?" I spread my arms in efforts to show no offense.

Thankfully, the scrappy Unversed doesn't try to go for my kneecaps. Probably more for Terra's pleading sake (after our fight) than for me. Which is fine. I can watch the blood pumping through their veins, through his kind of translucent skin, as they tilt their head in thought.

Hm, wonder if Unversed humanoids are the same where I come from? Reminds me of the weird deep sea beasts in the ocean.

I guess... they start, He makes me feel safe.

Safe? Hmm. I rub one finger along my cheek. Tracing the scars. "And never...trapped? I mean, he's around a lot. All the time. Isn't that too much?"

Ven's face screws up in confusion. Why would he do that? He's my dad.

Dad. I do not flinch at that, because whoa, that's a really strong word to use. Weren't Ven and Terra just bros in my timeline? Wonder what changed here.

(Moron. I know what changed. Look at how pale Ven is, how cold his skin is to touch. Even with a Keyblade...weak. Sick.)

My chest aches.

Something about those eyes, looking at me. Older than the rest of him. Insightful. I don't like those eyes.

Don't you have someone that makes you safe?

"Safe?" I laugh. "I'm fine, I can take care of myself. I don't need someone else to do it for me."

Sure.

I shift backwards. Grit my teeth as my leg almost goes out from underneath me. Ven notices. Of course he does.

You're hurt. Do you want help?

I snort. "Nah. It'll be healed up soon. Us Replicas have to bounce back, you know?" I pat at my facial scars for emphasis.

How ugly they are, how terrible. Look, we may be monsters, the two of us, but I'm worse.

(Someone tried to put me down but I still got up. I walked away.)

Still like how he's looking at me. And whoa, there's Terra looking at me in the background. I fight the urge to stick my tongue out (don't want another fight yet) and simply...walk away.

I don't need to be around these people who think they can fix this.

(Not when Ven doesn't know how his protector will fail him.)

#answering asks #lilac rabbits #tempest verse #tempest!ven #oc ruse #tell me verse #tell me crossover #ruse doesn't know about ven being oc/si insert like herself #also: ruse is very much shaped by the first week of her life being spent running from people taller than her that wanted to hurt #or trap her like vexen #while ven still had it really bad with xehanort but was mostly ignored?#and then Terra is Totally Awesome Parent for first impressions of taller people other than Bad Nort #kh ficlet #also ven and ruse both have chronic health problems? but have differing reactions to that #storm whispers au

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doceopercepto · 4 years

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foreign flavor

[I love your verse but I can’t draw so here I wrote you something terrible instead featuring spider!Six and RK.]

Mono-mate is late. It is nothing drastic. By now I have learned my little male’s patterns, how he skitters away in fright while I am tending my brood. Smart of him. It is how he has survived so long, tempting thought the thought of consuming him is. Perhaps this year I will pluck him apart. No. I would regret it. Mono-mate is far too extraordinary to waste on a flight of fancy. But things are so dull without him. Trespassers and challengers come on occasion, vying for my nest and my males. But not this day. It seems nothing new will be wandering into my forest. No females to beat, nor males to eat. Or so I thought. Feet are touching the webbing in my territory. Not Mono-mate’s, I know his gait too well for him to hide from me. This is a new male. Good. I was beginning to grow hungry. Perhaps I will entertain this one for some time. Mono-mate will certainly be jealous. It is what he deserves, keeping me waiting so long. He should know better. The male that eventually steps into my clearing is an untested one. He is too skittish and afraid. These always taste the best, with fear marinating their flesh. The fear is healthy, though. Fear is respectful to me. This one knows he holds no power here. Not like the older males who walk around with a pompous air, stepping to my den as if I owe them the right to an audience simply because they succeeded elsewhere. What will this one do? I settle my limbs and give him my attention, admittedly curious. The green ones tend to fumble in hilarious ways. Will he try to woo me with a dance? Perhaps I’ll pluck a leg off first, and let him flounder uselessly if he does. No, he offers a gift. Something bundled in white. I lean in as he tugs aside the wrapping, and the smell hits my nose. It’s meat. Flesh. Blood. But it smells of salt and the sea, of a place I’ve never known. This is no meat I know of, but it smells absolutely delectable. My mouth waters at the scent. The male tilts his head. Scared, still. His knees are even shaking. But he does not bolt even as he waits for my reaction. I accept his offering. Not immediately. I let him stew a bit more in his fear, I wait until he swallows down spit in that nervous fashion they sometimes do. Then I take his small gift and consume it. If it smelled wonderful, the taste is divine. Spices and flavors intermingle to my senses. It’s not quite the same as consuming a male, and it certainly does not last, but it is delicious. I can taste the sea and the lingering remnants of something I cannot describe. This male must be from a costal village. A shame his offering is so little. But he does not try to mate while I am distracted as a more opportunistic male would. He stands and watches while I digest, even when I lower myself to tempt him closer. Either he is stupid for not falling for my trick, or clever enough to know it was a ruse in the first place. I decide I will allow him, then. If my Mono-mate were around, perhaps I would not. But he is not here, he is late, and I am bored. He’ll be jealous, too, that he missed his chance, that I accepted another. Good. The male before me does something more I do not expect, though. When I signal for him, he lifts his arm and offers it. He wishes for me to bite. A male has never presented in this way before to me. To be bitten is to die. But this one does not attempt to run. He is afraid and I can see he does not wish to die, but he is giving himself for more than just the chance for mating. With this, he will be my meal as well. I bite. He cries out in pain, for the venom now racing in his body. Perhaps he will perish before he finishes. But he staggers and I allow him to go, curious at how fast he will succumb. When it is done he is still miraculously alive. But fading fast. He cannot even stand and crawls pitifully forward. I let him, wondering if he will still try to run even with his time going out. Yet he does not. He pulls himself across my webbing until he is laid before me. There he closes his eyes and wheezes as my venom shuts down his organs bit by agonizing bit. I wait it out and watch him die. It’s interesting. I never get to see a male succumb in such a way. It’s far less hassle to bite their heads off before they can flee. But soon he is gone and I gleefully indulge in my meal. As my teeth crush through his bones I taste the sea on him. It is far more delicious than the paltry gift of meat.

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[ I do not know how to work tumblr so do not know how to reply anonymously. Hopefully you are okay with me posting - otherwise, let me know and I can delete! I adore this, though. Fond as I am of Mono, I can’t help being endeared to one who willingly sacrifices himself for Six. The truest sign of love. Six’s perspective is very fun, too, fittingly cold but very sweet on Mono, as well as treasuring her new meal and his sacrifice. So many lines stuck out to me nicely, about her hunger, and her amusement at another male’s attempt at mating (only to realize he wasn’t there for that).

Fantastic read!

- doceo]

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onslaughtsixdotcom · 3 years

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Scaling Up Dragon Heist

Around April or May of 2019, I started to run Waterdeep: Dragon Heist, one of the official WotC 5e hardcovers. I’m still not done with it, although that is largely the fault of COVID and my own extensions to the campaign.

I think Dragon Heist is one of the better 5e modules by WotC. I think it’s got a strong playground for the characters, and Waterdeep has 30+ years of publication history to draw on. The release of the module also heralded in a HUGE amount of third party extension content, including the famous Alexandrian Remix. I hadn’t heard of this before I started running my campaign and having ideas about how to do it, so it didn’t influence me--although I’m sure we came to a lot of similar conclusions and ideas, based on common perceptions of what the actual flaws are of the module.

Still, despite those flaws, I think they help the module rather than hinder it. It gives the DM a shitload of room to improvise and draw in the margins, rather than some other 5e adventures which feel like they can’t be fucked with in the least.

Here’s the kicker: I started my adventure at level 4. We had a pre-existing party that I had run through the classic N1: Against the Cult of the Reptile God. (Fun fact: A map that I drew is the 3rd Google Images result for that. Woah.)

The party spent a few real-world weeks traveling across about 7 days of overland travel where I ran some drop in one shots; including Mike Krahulik’s Dusk (a Twilight parody) and a really fun 2 hour diversion where the players saw an ancient blue dragon take off the roof of a church during a wedding. Then they arrived in my city: Dawnharbour.

I don’t run the Forgotten Realms. I find it not to my taste. Most of the names suck. The lore is invariably boring or weird, and not the fun kind of weird. I was going to run Dragon Heist, and I was going to put it in my own city. I gave the players some justification previously for why they would want to go there: The cleric’s sister had been kidnapped by the Cult of the Reptile God and turned into a Yuanti; a snake person. The bard had stolen a golden statue of the Reptile God and wanted to melt it down and plate his violin with it. I told the cleric that they would need a high level magic user and someone in Dawnharbour could probably help them; ditto the bard needing a highly skilled magical blacksmith. The third player didn’t really care where they went since he was on the run from his home country. So, off to Dawnharbour. They reached level 4 when they got to the city.

I won’t bore you with the rest of the details of my city or everything I changed for the campaign. Instead, I’ll talk up some hard and fast ways to make the adventure work for a higher level party. Most of them revolve around the encounters. I’m assuming the party will start around level 4 or 5.

Chapter 1

The book opens with the players in the Yawning Portal, a famous tavern with a big ass well to a megadungeon underneath. (More on this later.) They’re hanging out doing whatever when a troll and some stirges pop out of the well. The book says that the players get attacked by the stirges while the owner of the bar, a typical Forgotten Realms 15th level Fighter running a fucking bar for a living deals with the troll.

A troll is CR 5. They can handle a troll. If they can’t, you have a bigger problem.

Next up the book leads them to a Zhentarim warehouse. When they get there it’s abandoned and there are (ugh) 3 Kenku. Kenku are like tengu if they sucked. They’re bird people who can only speak in mimickry, like parrots. They can only repeat words they’ve heard before. This is stupid as fuck (especially when a player wants to be one) but more importantly, they are incredibly weak. I think the kenku are just hanging out or they got captured by the Zhentarim who left them there after they bail or something like that. Whatever.

I put the Zhentarim there instead. I put like 20 Zhentarim. I used the Spy statblock; they don’t have a lot of CR and at level 4 or 5, the players are real slice and dicey about killing them. They can basically carve through two of these dudes in a turn. It was *really* fun to just have the players mow down these mooks. They used the 2nd floor to their advantage, casting Grease on the stairs and creating a bottleneck and then picking them off with ranged attacks and spells. I think I might have given the Zhents 1hp and treated them as minions (see 4e).

I think I had the police show up after they were all dead; someone heard the commotion and called the cops. I think I also put an NPC there; I shuffled around a bunch of the NPCs the module uses. (They got their quest to save Volo from Bigby in the Yawning Portal; instead of finding Volo here, I think they found my equivalent of Renaer Neverremember.) There was a day’s break between this and them going into the sewers in the next part.

The sewer introduces the Xanathar’s minions. I believe a Duergar is actually there and I took this as a sign--I made most of Xanathar’s mooks Duergar, and then decided--this dude is a Beholder and he has a Mindflayer for a lieutenant. The Xanathar’s forces should ALL be classic D&D dungeon monsters, like rust monsters and umber hulks and ropers. This gives you a wide variety of weird shit you can throw at your players at different CR levels, and the idea of a gangster Beholder who thinks hiring a bunch of umber hulks to go shake down a local deli is fucking hilarious. But, it doesn’t make them any less dangerous. Throw some umber hulks or something in this lair. Go nuts--the weirder, the better. Xanathar’s crew should have no qualm about hanging out with a gibbering mouther or a carrion crawler.

Chapter 2

Chapter 2 is the least developed chapter in the book. It also revolved around a bunch of Forgotten Realms faction nonsense that I wanted nothing to do with. I used this time instead to formally introduce the Xanathar, the Cassalanters and Jarlaxle. After they foiled his plans to rig a goldfish competition (think a dog show but for fish), the Xanathar became convinced the players worked for the Zhentarim and invited them to have a sit down about their intentions; if they worked for the Zhents he wanted to formally declare war. The players hated the Zhents--they killed an NPC they liked back during N1, partially to set this all up. Xanny was cool with that.

The Cassalanters were a way to introduce a new player. They call up the Blackstaff to say, hey we have a magic item, can you send a guy here to deliver it? (Magic item possession is illegal on the streets in my setting, but if someone important hires you to transport it, then you can do it. This makes being a courier a very lucrative job; lots of people are just carrying around other people’s stuff for a living.) They almost immediately knock out the new player sent to pick up the item, and replace him with their dofflegagher. The idea was that the dofflegagher player would then infiltrate the Blackstaff’s organization.

Blackstaff is no dumbass and hired a random dude off the street--my new player. Then, Blackstaff hired the rest of the party to go rescue him--mostly as a ruse to snuff out the Cassalanters and get evidence that they were shitty.

When they encountered the Cassalanters, I used a Cambion; one of their servants turned into him. This guy slowly became a recurring lieutenant; he was basically the Goldar for the Cassalanter’s Lord Zedd and Rita Repulsa. At the time, I hadn’t read any lore for Cambions; I’m not particularly concerned with monster lore the way the guys who make the game write it. I literally thumbed through my deck of monsters, saw this winged devil horn dude, and said, “Right on, he looks like he’ll work.” A Cambion is CR5, more than suitable for the encounters the party will have with him over the next few levels. The Fiendish Charm ability is fun and can really fuck with the players; I ruled, of course, that anyone under its affect would obviously be free if the Cambion was killed. Even after it was killed, he just kept on coming back, because he’s from Hell and killing him on this plane doesn’t really do anything.

As the players continue to face the Cassalanters, a go-to seems to be spined devils. This is fine but not very powerful for a level 4, 5, 6 party. Therefore I suggest supplanting it with barbed devils. They’re CR5. Adding one or two of those to an encounter with spined devils can make this a real fun encounter that isn’t too horribly overwhelming, especially if at least one of your martial characters has a magic weapon (which they fucking should; they’re level 5!)

IMO you can also introduce Jarlaxle in this chapter; a fun way is through his Zardoz Zord persona. It could simply be that Jarlaxle knows Volo (or any other NPC the players know) and wants to invite them to a free meal to get to know them. In my game, Jarlaxle operates openly as himself (I found it would just complicate things if he was someone else) and invited the players to his yacht shortly after they met the Xanathar, to formally tell them all about the Vault of Dragons, the Stone, and how everyone they have met in the city is after it.

Chapter 3

I am not the biggest fan of this part of the module. I think nimblewrights and similar creatures are really dumb and don’t fit my D&D world. A lot of the stuff in this chapter is investigation stuff, and you can play that out however you like. It doesn’t drastically need scaling up, though you may have to account for something like Zone of Truth that they might not normally have access to. It also helps if you do the opposite of the book, and make the police a bunch of shitheads who don’t care about the city--this way the players are actually motivated to help. I’ve seen a LOT of posts that open with “the fireball happened and my players shrugged and said they would let the police handle it.” Horrible! The police should either be incompetent, apathetic, or (best case) both. They don’t care who did this and if they did, they wouldn’t be able to catch them. Now it’s completely on the players.

IMO it also helps if you do the leg work to make the NPC someone they actually care about. In the book it’s an NPC they’ve never met but they have a mutual acquaintance through--it would be nice if they get invited to a dinner with this NPC or something similar prior to this. Or, change it to be any NPC they like who you don’t mind killing. Hell, they’re level 5 or 6 at this point--if they got a cleric, they can even cast Revivify and wake the dude up. They could even cast Speak With Dead and immediately find out who blew him up or what he was doing here!

Moving on, there’s the Gralland Villa. I retooled the name to actually sound like a good name; sue me.

The book has a bunch of Zhents hanging out here. A simple way to make this dramatic and hard is to pull the trigger and make the players fight their way in. The stone is right here at the villa and they need to steal it. Sounds simple enough.

Things got complicated for my party when a recurring NPC appeared. She was an ex girlfriend of the bard in our party; they were both Tieflings. She now worked for the Zhentarim and was basically their second in command. And she was here to steal the stone, come Hell or high water. The bard, still in love with her, was perfectly content to let her steal it and even cover her getaway. The rest of the players, not so much, but when the chaos was ensuing and she was literally running past them with the stone in hand, made the decision that it was smarter to try and help her escape and then figure out how to get the stone from her later, than try and get it from her now.

This led literally directly to chapter 4.

Chapter 4

By now it’s obvious: I used all 4 bad guys.

I ran through the chapter and picked the coolest maps and best encounter ideas, including the rooftop chase, the theater, the sewer and the courthouse. I weaved them together carefully, and all the changes I had made to the groups paid off when they entered the theater, chased by barbed devils and our Cambion friend, only to have an Umber Hulk with the Xanathar’s logo painted on his face crash through the stage, flanked by two Duergar. Add in some Drow gunslingers and it was a fucking party.

(the large hexagon is where somebody cast Darkness; the big scuffed circle is a grody spot on my grid tiles. I still need new ones...)

The courthouse had a great scene where the Cassalanter dofflegagher impersonated the chief of police, interrogating the players for the code word to activate the stone (I added one; who cares?) until the real chief of police showed up! The players had to do an entire encounter with this guy while handcuffed; thank god for verbal only spells, right?

From here the stone ended up with the players, and then it ended up with Jarlaxle who they are working for. Jarlaxle attuned to it and told them the Vault of Dragons is inside Undermountain; 3, 5 levels deep? Who knows? And it requires 3 keys: The Crown of Asmodeus, the Ring of Winter, and the Robe of the Archmagi.

I gave these 3 magic items to the Cassalanters, the Xanathar and Manshoon. This is a pretty common hack and it means the lairs in the book actually get used. I made up one of the magic items (Crown of Asmodeus) and stole another from a module I don’t intend to run as written (the Ring of Winter is, I believe, in either Tomb of Annihilation or Storm King’s Thunder). They’re fun!

So the rest of the campaign has been the players bouncing between going deep into Undermountain, the megadungeon underneath the Yawning Portal, and going to the 3 different villain factions to steal their shit.

The villain lairs are NOT statted for level 5 players AT ALL. The players have no hope of actually killing ANY of the villains at level 5; to fight the Xanathar is a pure TPK at level 5. But at level 8, like where my players are now? One of them died and then got Revivified; the others all survived or made their saves when they were hit by death or disintegration. (In the spirit of the Xanathar, I rolled every eye beam randomly, rerolling if I had used that ray in the last round.) That’s about the best you can hope for with a Beholder IMO!

The rest of the lairs you can mostly run as-is. Any very low CR mooks, basically anything lower than 1 or 2 CR, I would probably replace with a higher CR variant. We’ve already discussed what you can replace them with above, and if you’ve made it this far into the module, you should have a pretty good sense of what your players can handle.

#dnd #dragon heist #waterdeep dragon heist

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thiscrimsonsoul · 4 years

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WandaVision Theories...

{out of paprikash} For the purposes of clearing my brain after the new episode, here are my WandaVision theories thus far. These are just my own thoughts, so take them with a grain of salt please. I may not know what the hell I’m talking about at all. XD

Wanda is not the only one in control and may even be in less control than we think she is. In episode 5, said she doesn’t even know how any of this started, but there have been other indications that Wanda is not in full control. She couldn’t dispel the stork in her living room. She doesn’t seem to be able to control when Agnes comes and goes. She would never kill her sons’ dog and I don’t think she would allow that to even happen. In fact, she didn’t know where Sparky came from at all. She was also confused when the husband in the first episode started to choke and when Dottie in the second episode cut her hand on glass. If Wanda was really 100% manipulating reality inside a sealed bubble, then it really would all be under her control. She certainly has the power to do so.

I don’t think Vision was brought back by Wanda, but by whoever set up Westview for her or gave/taught her the abilities to do so. I highly doubt that Wanda would actively choose to violate the Sokovia Accords after being thrown into the Raft after the last time she did so. But even more compelling for this argument is that Vision had a will saying he didn’t want anything done with him after death. I don’t see Wanda going against his wishes. Also, Vision has free will in WestView and Wanda can’t control everything he does like she can with others, despite what she said. And if we are to believe Wanda when she says she doesn’t know how any of this started, then that means she didn’t purposely steal Vision’s body to slap it into Westview to make her perfect world.

What about the video footage of her breaking into the SWORD facility and taking his body, then, you ask? An illusion. That’s not really Wanda in the footage. There are three reasons why this might be. First, there was a lot of interference in the video… static and skipping, etc. Darcy saw similar interference when watching the WandaVision broadcast whenever “bad” scenes were rewound, omitted, or changed. Someone interfered with the footage from the SWORD facility. Darcy & co. came to the conclusion that Wanda was editing the footage… but what if it’s not her that’s doing it? The second reason why I think Wanda wasn’t the one to break into the SWORD facility is the number of people she hurt and plowed through to do it. I don’t buy Wanda being willing to hurt that many people to steal the body of her lover against his will and then enslave a town. None of this is holding water for me just based on Wanda’s personality up until now. And the third reason… is that one of the villains that some of us suspect might be involved, Mephisto, has illusion magic in his repertoire. He could easily have disguised himself as Wanda or changed the footage after the fact.

If Mephisto is behind any or all of what is going on in WandaVision, it’s possible that he retrieved Vision’s body and set up Westview either to trap Wanda or because of an agreement they had. The way Mephisto usually goes about tricking people or getting things from them (such as taking their souls or manipulating them into doing what he wants) is by creating a willing contract with them, just like his namesake Mephistopheles or the Devil, which he is often called. Why would he do this? To gain access to Wanda’s power. If he can get access to her power through an agreement with her or get something else out of her (like two magical twins she just had), then it’s worth his time to create this TV land for her to play around in while he waits to reap the benefits.

When things start to hit the fan, Wanda starts getting upset, and Vision starts questioning what’s going on, Mephisto or whoever is in control has to take action. How would he/they do this? Through the manipulation of memories, which he’s/they’ve done before. Vision says he doesn’t remember who he is or his life before Westview, and Wanda says she doesn’t remember how all this started. Guess what one of Mephisto’s abilities is? Memory manipulation. This then plays right into Pietro Maximoff’s arrival because, as we all know, that’s not Pietro. We can all see that. Darcy even saw that. So why couldn’t Wanda see it too? Memory manipulation. She’s starting to get upset and question things? Well then the entire operation could be in jeopardy. And either Mephisto or whoever is doing this hasn’t gotten what they wanted yet, so it can’t end. So let’s throw in a distraction. And with a little manipulation of Wanda’s memory, she now thinks that’s always been her brother. And that, of course, was a drastic action to keep things from going off the rails, since previous attempts before then had failed... which I’ll get to in a second.

Which brings me to Agnes… who is possibly actually Agatha Harkness, another witch who, in the comics, mentored Wanda but then ended up becoming an adversary. Agnes seems to be someone Wanda can’t control. Her comings and goings seem autonomous, and at first they are always at the right time to avoid things that might disrupt the peace for Wanda. For example, showing up to help her with a last minute dinner in episode 1, giving her advice in episode 2, and in episode 5, showing up to babysit the twins. I think Agnes may be in control of some of what’s going on or, may be working for those who do… an interesting theory when you consider that Agatha worked for/with Mephisto in the comics. She also seems to be aware of the fakeness of Westview and even of the TV show that’s going on, as indicated by the babysitting scene in episode 5 when she asked to try a scene that didn’t go right again and didn’t seem fazed at all by the twins aging several years instantaneously.

Agnes is likely helping Mephisto or whoever else is behind this to get what they want. Those other things I mentioned a second ago that were done to keep the ruse going? All done by Agnes. All these little interventions, these little saves, these little reassurances and advice sessions… they’ve all been Agnes. And up until now, it seemed that the motivation was to keep Wanda happy and inside her illusionary world. However, after she had the twins, things shifted. Now… Agnes seems to be doing things that will cause the twins to accelerate their age. From the babysitting scene where they aged up while Wanda and Vision weren’t looking, to Sparky showing up, which I think was Agnes’ doing, with her bringing in a doghouse for them… and then Wanda and Vision telling them they have to be older to have a puppy, and boom. They age up again to get the puppy. They always age up or want to age up when Agnes is around. I believe Agnes killed Sparky to push them to age up again, but thankfully, Wanda was able to stop it. What is so bad about the twins aging up? Well, if Mephisto is behind all of this, he may be biding his time until the twins are older and have developed powers in their own right, and then he’ll take their power/souls/lives to make himself stronger. It’s kindof what he does. That’s what happened in the comics, in a very oversimplified nutshell. Everything Agnes/Agatha has done so far has been to first keep everything happy and peaceful between Wanda and Vision so that they have babies, and then now to quickly age them up so her boss/partner Mephisto or someone else can reap the benefits of creating this world for Wanda in the first place.

I’ll go ahead and pitch one random off-the-wall thing here that I really don’t think is true, but... what if “Pietro” is Mephisto? We were all trying to guess if EP would play Pietro or Mephisto… what if he’s playing both? XD Another candidate for Mephisto, or more likely I think someone working for/with him, might be SWORD operative and now acting director Tyler Hayward. He’s... been kindof a dick throughout this entire process, and he seems to be really pushing for Wanda to be seen as a terrorist, setting her up to be seen as the villain in all of this. Could it be that he’s trying to keep her under control? Maybe get her to tire herself out so that she’s more easily manipulated? It’s curious that right after they provoke Wanda into coming outside Westview and reinforcing the perimeter to keep people from messing with stuff, that’s when Pietro shows up. Maybe... Mephisto needed to wear Wanda down a bit in order for the memory manipulation that would allow him to come in as a recast Pietro Maximoff to go off without a hitch. Maybe... Wanda at full power and with a calm mind was too strong for him to manipulate. So he had to shake her up and tire her out a bit first. Again, I don’t really think this is true, but it is an interesting theory to run with.

Okay, one more thing to cover. Vision’s co-worker said “she’s in my head” and “make her stop,” so it has to be Wanda who’s doing everything… right? No. There’s another “she/her” in Westview who is a spell caster. Agnes/Agatha could be doing it. But Monica she said felt “pain” and “like drowning,” and determined “it was grief,” so it has to be Wanda’s grief at losing Vision, Pietro, etc. … right? Not necessarily. Mephisto may have gained access to Wanda’s memories, mindset, and emotions when a pact was made with her or whenever and in what capacity this whole Westview thing began. Westview and the mind control of everyone inside, whether made or controlled by Mephisto or Agatha… could be derived from Wanda’s power but not coming from her. Some evidence for this if you think about it are those commercials. The first one was for a Stark brand toaster that looked an awful lot like a bomb. The second was for a Strücker watch, with Strücker being the Hydra officer who was in charge of the twins’ experiments in Sokovia. The third was for a “Hydra soak” bath product. And now this last one… Lagos brand paper towels “for when you make a mess and didn’t mean to.” Lagos, Nigeria was, of course, where Wanda made that tragic mistake that killed a lot of innocent people. All the commercials so far have been referencing events and times in Wanda’s life that were painful. Now… think about what commercials are. They’re usually advertisements for products that vendors pay to have aired in the hopes that you’ll buy their products. In other words, the vendors sponsor the show by paying for a part of the airtime. They’re literally saying that the WandaVision television show is being sponsored by Wanda’s pain. Or, maybe more accurately, someone is using Wanda’s pain and the power behind it to create this reality. So when Monica said she felt Wanda’s pain and grief, she wasn’t wrong, but it’s still not Wanda doing it.

And that’s all I’ve got right now. Again, these are just my theories and ramblings. For all I know, not a single world of this is going to be true at all, haha. But it’s fun to speculate.

Discuss?

#wandavision spoilers

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eriisaam · 4 years

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Something something Tarot Card Project something.

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Context under the cut, in order of appearance:

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Kyo - The Fool ( Hear me out.)

Symbolizing new beginning, adventure, opportunities, pleasure, etc. It reflects how when Lifonse and Kamui first met him (from his perspective), he suddenly took a drastic turn in his life with opening new opportunities (becoming a summoner, stabilizing his power to go from a ditto to a ditto-mew, getting his first legendary in Zacian and encountering others, finding his ex and making amends to be on surprisingly good terms with him, having lovers who immediately love him, etc), of which his stinkiness nearly self-sabotaged in his apprehension, his guardedness, and (more sympathetically) him managing his past experiences and traumas, of which had Lifonse and Kamui not been so patient, supportive and loving as they had, there were so many opportunities he could've ruined for himself. This incarnation of him even gained more lovers than his past self (in Eclair and then Kaze), and in a moment of humbling himself and realizing in full of the weight of his failings and foolishness, it had a profound effect in Zacian for her to knight him, proclaiming herself as his to officially train.

For the reverse, this also winds up heavily symbolizing his past-self, who became present-Kyo's fallen alt, who did wind up self-sabotaging things by causing a lot of trauma that lingered in Kamui and Lifonse, who went a completely different direction in life from the present Kyo, and was woefully apathetic and uncaring to Lifonse and Kamui as a whole compared to present-Kyo not only opening up and genuinely loving them more, but making strides to change himself for the better for their sake, too. There were many scars he left behind in Lifonse and Kamui that negatively impacted even present-Kyo’s relationship with them, and the only moment he had a saving grace was just before his death, and ruined just as quickly when Hel claimed him as one of her new cohorts. Worth also noting that unlike the present Kyo, whose power stabilized his ditto genes to be mew-like, past-Kyo didn’t develop nearly as pronounced a bond to do the same, and thus, lacked their connection to a mew.

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Ephrel - The Chariot

In reverse, the feeling of defeat, being vanquished, lost, etc. Were all feelings that reflected how Ephrel was in the eyes of Sparrow's Order of Heroes prior to Sparrow's official status as summoner (of which Chrom's was unofficial before her). They were completely forgotten to the point they didn't even have a name attached other than "former summoner/previous summoner", the circumstances of why they were gone were almost entirely unheard of or guesswork, and there seemed far too much haste to try to forget them as much as possible in favor of moving on with Sparrow, satisfied to keep their fate unknown with very few to give a fuck otherwise (like Chrom, then Sparrow based on Chrom's own unwavering hope to find out what happened once learning Ephrel had a life after their robinsona).

The process of finding Spectabilis, then deciding to redeem them rather than kill them (which would be far easier and inconsequential), was what flips The Chariot upright: Reflecting the long, rocky road Chrom persevered to press forward to, and meet up to free Ephrel from a fate of stagnancy, rather than just leave it at accepting his replacement Robins and moving on without them like everyone else. This action was what allowed Ephrel's live to continue forward, and to reveal more of themself they didn't flesh out even in their robinsona days.

Initially, I debated on whether or not Chrom and Ephrel fit to be literally riding something, but I find it even more fitting that Chrom himself served as “the chariot”, having carried the toils and burdens from the point he lost Ephrel, to the long, exhausting journey to retrieve them again.

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Erin - The Hanged Man

As her supports (but especially Lif, Ryoma, and to some degree Camilla from the start) knew too well (and Hrid eventually caught up on and was rightfully horrified of and clingy afterwards about), Erin came from a very harsh life prior to being a summoner, where she was suffocated, controlled, manipulated, and worked to the ground, to the point she nearly made a very costly, risky mistake of her own self prior to her Breidablik summoning her (of which I'll remain brief and vague here as it's not the biggest point this time). The damage was still done, as she still was left a broken shell, fully welcoming anyone to pull her strings as she was heavily conditioned to expect, all with a weak will, self-worth and agency. All of which line up with the reversed Hang Man's meaning of useless sacrifice, unwillingness to change, and knowingly heading on to bad decision after bad outcome. The arms of her past try greedily to drag her back to the life she had once escaped from.

The upright version of this reflected readjustment, improvement, and rebirth: All of which carried the same elements to how her supports could see she was a completely different person underneath the broken mess she was initially left as, and needed support, love, and gentle coaxing to come out in her own accord. This then led to a very massive shift to what she later turned into presently from where she started off before: As someone bold, brash, more willing to show herself, and more engaged as her own self with her own decisions. Even in free-fall, she gained her freedom, and more, thanks to her supports, gained her wings figuratively and literally (as a manakete) to take flight by her own will.

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Teru - Death

In reverse, Teru had indeed followed a lot of relationships that couldn't fully serve him or be as realized as he needed them to be at the time he needed it most (Kyo, before The Incident nearly ruined even their friendship, and definitely ruined their relationship. Then Ryoma, before Garon took that away from him as well.). His Order of Heroes failed him, his initial Askr was doomed, and he had to be a pillar of strength and protection to his pokemon and them in a time he himself desperately needed someone to rely on and protect him instead in his ailing strength and health. In the form he took prior to decimating his former connected World of Fates, one prominent feature in the missingno form he took at the time was carrying the fragmented headgear of his fallen past lover.

Upright, even in the point where Teru changed his life for the better, it took massive sacrifices and struggles on his part to get there. He has a chronic illness that can make him incredibly godly in power in the best of times, but also worryingly and critically frail and weak in most other times, all through his missingno powers he's still not able to entirely control. He had done the impossible in cheating death so many times from being a missingno, to surviving Conquest, to taking the Heart's Rite head on and living to tell the tale, but such bragging rights rang hallow for the sacrifices he made and the unspeakable levels of agony and pain he endured while subjected to them. He cheated death, yet at what cost? But even when he reached his lowest, his life did start anew as he grew past his traumas just enough to learn to grow and feel again, and for the better. After all, "third time's the charm".

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Sparrow - The Star

Where she started, she was homeless, abandoned by the world, and left to die. Forgotten. Uncared for. Unconcerned. Just another number and another sad life wasted. Like the reverse, she started in a point she was made acutely aware how little her skills mattered (it certainly didn't spare her the life of poverty), how bad her luck was (despite her best efforts, she still failed), and her only future was one that was coming to an end (crushed dreams unrealized in favor of being left to starve to death to the harsh elements outdoors). In her hands were the concept of a Crest of Fate bestowed to her, marking her as a digidestined. But even this “blessing” was in actuality a fake crest of the Grimeal, and what led to long-term damage to her and her digimon when the ruse was up.

It was Chrom who summoned her, and it was because of his patience to help save her and get her on her feet again did her hopes turn around, and her card meaning with it. Upright, she had a second chance in a new life, a new environment, and with opportunities she only barely touched the surface of that were fully realized in looking to it again in Askr (her digimon, who she didn't physically interact with until Chrom upset her digimon partners upon realizing why Sparrow didn't check up on them (of which she downplayed her life cuz, well, she thought it was a game), revealing themselves in full). She found love, she found insight, and she found a new power she learned to harness to make a better use of her skills when she thought a more direct approach was lacking (a healer, when she wasn't physically strong enough to take up another weapon yet). She stayed calm, positive, hopeful, and tried to extend the same hope Chrom shared to her to others she found along the way, which led to Robin, Lyon, and then Ephrel finding their own hopes as well. In her hands was a digi-egg of Destiny (sometimes alternatively known as the digimental of fate), which manifested itself when Breidablik resonated with both Sparrow and Ephrel. As a united force, they finally gained the hard-earned role of digidestined as a duo legendary-mythic unit.

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Eclair - Judgement

A lot of Eclair's point of major growth in power and character all fell back on Thorr's most powerful ability: Judgement. This power was the power that could completely and utterly decimate entire countries with the single swing of her hammer, and she isn't afraid to flex, and in ways Eclair saw for himself are fickle and self-righteous (particularly as she and Teru declared war on one another for the sake of protecting Nohr or wiping it off the face of Fates, but did nothing to interfere with the Nohr Teru himself destroyed in his own world). This fickle nature, this self-serving attitude and logic path Thorr decides when to enact her judgement or not, struck the biggest fear in Eclair and caused untold amounts of stress, worries, and panic attacks of being his greatest failure of seeing everyone wiped away from his life (like the fate he himself escaped as a forma) if he couldn't successfully stop his own mother. All of which are fears of the reverse Judgement. Even when she left her mark in other timelines and what-could’ve-beens, she struck fear in Eclair’s supports making such outcomes prominently known for them to stew on. Including an alternative outcome of her taking hold of some manner of Alfonse and overloading him into a temporal threat.

But upright, it also reflects awakening, renewal, a better health and mind fully realized. The point Eclair began fearing his mother and aunt most was also the point his powers started manifesting the most when his family, friends and supports made their own will clear of wanting to protect him. It was also the point he fully realized that form of will that comes from love and the power it held that heavily contrasted the will Thorr took interest in that comes from despair. This eventually was fully realized in his fully powered form, Magni, and his power as the Divine Shield to completely cancel out Thorr's Judgement attack, and thus, force her to bring herself down to the same even footing as the mortals when she can't simply delete them off the earth with a swing anymore. This resolve is also what resonated with why Zamazenta similarly trusts him, and thus, fully established Eclair's mythic alt.

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loyally-unfaithful · 4 years

Text

—; even if i am fooling myself, my feelings are true . (4)

word count: 5.3k

pairing: origami cyclone | ivan karelin / gn!reader

genre: hurt/comfort

summary: even if he was lying to you by pretending to be your lover, he told himself it was worth it. it made you happy. it helped you. he’s helping you. this ruse is only done in good faith.

if it were to make you smile, if it were to help you brighten up, then all his lies and deceptions could be forgiven, he rationalised.

a/n: this chapter do be monologue city,,,

i have arthritis i would like a refund for my bones.

the hero knows he promised to see you again the next day, but it’s been a few days now since he has last seen you. you must be back at home by now. alone. were you okay? he can’t help but feel worried about you due to your limited mobility. guilt stings even more painfully now that he had calmed down. he has virtually subjected you to a prolonged radio silence after leaving abruptly.

and he still needed to tell you the truth...

the hero had put off meeting you again, because it meant seeing you again. it meant he had to tell you the truth. it meant he’d no longer be able to meet you.

he chastised himself. what was expecting? really, what did he expect to happen? he berated himself, guilt clawing at him. what was he doing, impersonating your lover? he felt ill. he should’ve stopped meeting you after that campaign ended. but for reasons that escaped him, he continued. was it selfishness? was it greed? what pushed him to continue? whatever had happened, it wasn’t supposed to. he was just supposed to check in on you, make sure you’re getting on well, and move on in his life. he was supposed to stay neutral, indifferent, objective. you were just any other stranger that he would help throughout his career as a hero. but you had been so lovely and so unassuming that he must’ve…? without realising it, he had gotten himself too involved and was now in too deep, allowing his shameful self to form feelings for your kind and beautiful self. trying to distance himself from you to no avail, he found himself uselessly fighting feelings that have sprouted without his permission. he was fighting a losing battle, and a war that wasn’t tilting into his favour. he had hoped that these stubborn feelings would disappear, hopefully sooner rather than later, but it seemed that they refused to leave him alone.

the blond let out a harsh sigh. he’s noticed he has been doing that a lot, much more that usual. when it went well it went wonderfully, sublime; when it went badly it went awfully, dreadful.

he can’t keep going like this.

it’s not fair for you.

it’s not fair for him.

he can’t lead you on, and he can’t continue to delude himself.

each step he took to your residence were heavier than the last. listlessly, he dragged his feet. it had rained last night, making this walk even more unpleasant and gloomy. concluding what was both the slowest and fastest walk he had ever had the displeasure of taking, he lifted his gaze off of the pavement to take in your house. it was superficially identical to the other houses in the neighbourhood, but then again, houses in this district of the bronze stage often looked the same. it was a modest one-storey house, which felt anything but modest. it looked oppressive, intimidating. it terrified him. what was in store for him within those walls terrifying him further.

knowing that simply anticipating would do him no good, ivan shook his head, trying to shake his nervousness away, to no avail. he tried willing his legs to move, to get closer to your house, with no success. fixed in place, immobilised by dread. he stood idle, head turned down, in front of your home for what felt like an eternity, surprised that you hadn’t noticed the stranger in front of your property first.

he sighed.

the pathetic puddle by his feet reflected an even more pathetic him.

he stared silently at kotetsu’s reflection under him: « you’ve gotta tell them. they deserve to know. ». with a disappointed sigh, he gazed back at the small pool who gazed back with his disappointing face. he, “kotetsu”, had told himself to tell you the truth. but did he have the courage to?

no longer able to bear taylor’s silent judgement, ivan lifted his head and slowly climbed up the front steps to your front door.

the puddle, murky as it always was, remained as unbothered as it had always been.

his finger hovered over the doorbell. did he have the courage to? he bit his lips hard enough to draw blood. could he meet your eyes? momentarily retracting his hand, he resisted submitting to his anxiety and willed himself to push the bell.

ivan could hear the ringing echoing inside your walls.

and then silence.

one beat.

two beat.

then another.

were you not home?

you always had very quiet steps, he told himself. everything is ok.

his knee jerk reaction to the prolonged silence was to take it as a sign that today wasn’t the day. a message from a power above telling him that he can postpone it for another day… whenever that other day was. his usual reaction would be to take this as an opportunity to throw in the towel and go home. but for you (and for himself), he’ll fight his impulse to cower away.

but still… this silence was slightly concerning.

had something happened to you?

the hero’s mind jumped through different conclusions to rationalise your lack of response.

maybe you went out…

maybe you weren’t awake…

what if you had hurt yourself and couldn’t get bac—

he reached out to ring the doorbell yet again, but stopped halfway as the door creaked open.

« how can i help y— taylor? » you had sounded as surprised to see him as he was to you.

oh. you were ok. he breathed out in relief. you were ok.

« please, come in, you offered, moving out of the way. sorry to make you wait, i wasn’t… i wasn’t expecting to see you… sorry about the mess… you mumbled. »

the hero gulped, fighting the fear that rose up within him from hearing the door click closed behind him. he can’t run away. no going back now: he had to tell you the truth. taking his mind off of his nerves, he decided to look around and observe the interior of your house. you said “mess” but the house is more or less in order, unless you were referring to the few stacks of books that littered your house. still... he struggled to call it a mess, as the odd misplaced books here and there didn’t even feel out place within your humble abode: it blended with the other decor into the stylish deep green walls and light brown tiles. the only thing he could qualify as being messy would be the light covering of dust that was slowly gathering on some of the furniture’s surface, along with the few papers and knickknacks strewn about, but they were out of the way enough that nothing ever seemed cluttered.

to his delight, the curios have all been of japanese origins, from the hand fans (« an ōgi! » he noted excitedly.) to the rough stacks of woodblock prints (« where did they get so many ukiyo-e prints? » he asked himself.). in fact, closer inspection would suggest that quite a few of the furnishings decorating your house were japanese in nature: the tapestry hung on your wall (he was sure those were called a tenugui.), the forgotten matcha tea set on the kitchen counter (« there was even a chasen?! »), and the japanese pottery and porcelain safely tucked into a glass cupboard (he wonders if he could get the opportunity to use the hagi ware chawan amongst the set.). he had to stop himself from literally beaming in excitement and dashing to ogle the wares. who would’ve known you’d have such a collection in your house? he needed to calm down, lest he attracted your suspicion, and swallowed his bubbling elation.

he followed your lead to wherever you were walking back to, inquisitively taking in his surroundings, distracting his mind from his previous anxieties.

« i, uh… no one’s been home since i went to the hospital. you walked back towards your open living room. and i’ve kinda been putting off cleaning. you laughed. – don’t worry about it… he assured you, still taking in this unknown territory. »

briefly, he let his attention back to you and to where you walked: to your open living room, which was connected to your kitchen. further to the side, he could see the stairs that led to your suspended bedroom. it seemed that this house had more or less the same make and architecture as tiger’s apartment, though with drastically different decor, he noted. though with more than less difficulty, you managed to get around your house just fine. despite your pronounced limp you continued at a regular, albeit slowed, pace. your gait was sometimes slowed by the fact that you sometimes had to hang on some of the fittings to maintain your balance and ivan had to fight the urge to rush over and help you walk.

you probably wouldn’t like for him to encroach on your newfound autonomy, he figured.

after finally reaching the living room, you had carefully sat yourself down on the floor in front of the coffee table. noticing the crafting papers and shavings surrounding where you sat, he thoughtlessly asked: « were you making something? no wonder you took a bit to respond. i’m sorry for interrupting you... – mhm, i’m just making menko cards. you elaborated as you carefully positioned your impaired leg. and it’s alright, you couldn’t have known. – menko cards? his interest was piqued. – yeah, just thought it would be fun, you shrugged. wanna help? – sure! he answered delightedly, failing to hide the eagerness in his voice. i mean, why not… you just laughed at his childlike enthusiasm. – i’d really appreciate it you could help me cut out the picture, you asked. »

he eased himself down next to you, trying his hardest not to appear bothered by your proximity. everything is ok. he’ll help you in this last activity. because it had interested him. because he wanted to treasure the last moments he got to spend with you. the very last. he doesn’t like the finality of that, but the truth had to be said. guilt stung like an open wound whenever he remembered that he was lying to you. he wouldn’t be mad if you condemned him for “exploiting” you. if he were to tell you the truth there was no way you’d forgive him, much less continue to seek out his affection. your resentment would be well deserved, even if the thought of being disliked by you hurt him.

his despair grew as he thought of the aftermath. it would leave him heartbroken, but what about you? you would’ve been deceived, not once but twice: by both he and your former lover. he really didn’t think this decision through, did he? this was a selfish and cruel scheme to begin with. just a misguided attempt to assist someone who didn’t even asked for his assistance. he doesn’t want to doubt your resilience, but surely, if he came clean you’d be deeply saddened and devastated again… he didn’t want to be the reason you felt lost again and returned to being miserable. he didn’t want to be the cause of your melancholy, the cause of a relapse. but that was exactly what he was going to cause you, wasn’t it? he was the cause of your grief and strife.

if this ended with him broken-hearted, he’d end up shattering whatever had remained of yours and leave you inconsolable.

this was a mistake. he’d caused you more pain than solace. this was a mistake. lies and sweet words aren’t what would have saved you. they weren’t what you needed. this was a mistake.

what would he even say? a “sorry” wouldn’t suffice. not even the sincerest apology would fix this. those words would only hurt you more.

he made his bed, now he had to lay in it. if only he never roped you into this.

spirit down again, he sighed and looked upon the table to tackle his newly appointed objective. a sharp contrast from the rest of your orderly home, the table was cluttered with random bits of paper and cardboard (both circular and rectangular, of various sizes), different crafting materials like scissors and box cutters, and hero related paraphernalia.

« people don’t usually make menko cards… he muttered. why not just buy the hero cards (‘my own are still collecting dust aren’t they…’)? he quizzed, flipping around a finished card of himself. despite his doubting tone, he carefully placed the work back down and got to cutting the few images off of few magazine pages. – that would be too easy. you shrugged. besides, i was planning to gift them to my niece. the bugger has bought everything i could find, and well… afford, in the shops. you admitted. – that makes sense… he replied, focusing on the task at hand. – the rascal loves all of this hero stuff but she absolutely loves sky high, you chuckled. it’s all she talks about. it’s like she lives and breathes the guy, said she wanted to be a hero and help people like he did. » you pretended to be annoyed, but he could hear the fondness in your voice. even though he’s supposed to start distancing himself from you, to start preparing himself for the upcoming heartbreak, he can’t help but continue to be endeared by you.

this was all so… incredibly mundane. everything just felt so incredibly ordinary. your interactions, the things you did together. it’s like it’s always been this way. the things you spoke about, and even the silence that you would share. there was always a certain comfort to be had together. it’s like this was normal, and he was the one you were always with. it’s like this was a routine. who knows, maybe in a different world, one where you two had met through different circumstances, maybe the two of you would’ve gotten together, he mused. but he had already ruined any chance of that he concluded. maybe had your lives gone a different way… maybe in another lifetime.

maybe this life wasn’t the one he was supposed to meet you in.

you sighed, straightening your back, before curling over your work once more: « sky high’s power is wind manipulation right? you pursed your lips. if i had that kind of power, i’d just spend most of my day flying to places. can you imagine? never having to put up with traffic? you rambled thoughtlessly. »

unbeknownst to you, ivan’s mind wandered back to a few years ago when he learnt that without the involvement of his custom made jetpacks sky high’s power could only allow him to float, and fought to stifle the laugh that crept up his throat. oblivious, you asked, sounding half-curious half-bored as you continued to abuse the material under your hands: « hey love, if you could have any next power in the world, what would you pick? »

ivan tilted his head towards you, and let his hand drop back down on the carpeted floor. change his ability for a different one? any kind at all? he took the time to ponder it, seriously considering the question. of course, he admired kotetsu’s and barnaby’s hundred power, but could he really utilise that correctly, what with the constraints? what about edward’s power? he had an actual chance to be a hero with his ability… or even lunatic and his fearsome control over his devastating blue flames. if he could use that for good? to help people? there were too many different abilities, each one more capable than the one he actually possessed.

« hmm… i guess… anything that’s useful; something that can be used to help others. he answered truthfully. i’m sorry, that must’ve been really vague. he laughed nervously. you shook your head with a smile. – that’s very noble of you, you praised as you continued working. truthfully, i envy your integrity. you confessed. – mm? why is that? what next power would you have chosen? he inquired. – oh, like if i had a second next power? you replied absentmindedly, focused on a particularly stubborn piece of cardboard which refused to cut. »

wait. did he hear that right?

« are… are you a next? » he asked, sounding something like perturbed.

« hmm? »

« is there something you’r… »

there wasn’t any need to elaborate: your face had said it all. like a criminal caught red-handed, your expression was the perfect picture of shock. he would even think you were scandalised. you pressed your lips into a thin line, eyebrows knitted in dismay.

« must’ve be a freudian slip… » you tried to laugh, neither of you amused. « it’s really nothing noteworthy or important— » you started on a lie, but grimaced slightly.

catching unto your tic, he pleaded, voice serious: « tell me the truth… please… »

you shifted in you seat uncomfortably, eyes dashing across your room looking at everything except his eyes. you were deeply aware of the eyes laser-focused on you, locked onto you to the point where you swore it could bore through you. you sighed and resigned yourself to telling him the truth. the entire truth, and nothing but the truth. it’s not like you could lie to his face: « before i tell you, do you promise not to leave before i finished explaining everything? you opened your mouth and closed them again. you’re free to hate me all you want, but please don’t… you turned away and bit your lips. »

he didn’t know what to anticipate. was your ability that alarming? he nodded, preparing himself for… whatever you were going to reveal to him.

« it’s honestly nothing incredible… you started. i couldn’t be a hero with it… i swear. it’s... you paused, as you tried to find the right words to divulge your ability. the right words to explain it clearly without making it into a fuss.

lie detection, you said, plainly, without much relish or fanfare. um... my ability only allows me to see through lies, or anything meant to deceive: lies, half-truths, manipulations, omission of detail… you hesitated. illusions.

i guess, neither of you ever noticed… they, um, taylor, didn’t know either… »

it’s shocking how easily this fabricated world crumbled.

you knew? what do you mean?? ivan had sat facing you, frozen in place. by fear, confusion, apprehension. he felt embarrassed, ashamed. were you just playing along to spare his feelings? he really should’ve told you earlier. look at where his inaction led him.

he should’ve been the one who came clean, instead of forcing you to tell the truth on his behalf.

« how long…? half wanting and not wanting to know the truth. he had a guess. if what you had said was true then... how long have you known? »

still not facing him, you cast your gaze downwards, clasping your hands together: « since the first time… when i saw you, i knew you weren’t the real taylor and just assumed it was you, origami. what with your involvement during the campaign and all... i’m guessing i’ve assumed correctly?

the hero sat motionless, but made no attempt to disprove your assumption. if what you had said about your ability was true, then there would be no point to lying.

at first i really… didn’t understand why you kept visiting me, as my former partner no less. i still don’t, for that matter… though i’m willing to give you the benefit of the doubt and assume that you have good intentions. i knew it was you, so i was a bit standoffish and suspicious when we first met… i thought you wanted to take advantage of me while i was helpless to stroke your own ego, or conduct some sort of ploy to boost your own popularity. i’m... really sorry for assuming something like that about you… i’m not sure where i got that idea as you never seemed to be that kind of person... you had been so sincere when i asked why you kept visiting me and kept pretending… well not pretending, you seemed to have genuinely cared about me, that i guess i started to drop my guard and trusted you.

your eyes were tinged with a sadness and confusion that he wished to get rid of, but it was no longer his place. it never was his place. you shook your head.

i’m really sorry. i really truly am for not letting you know sooner instead of letting it go this far… at first i… i played along because i didn’t want you to feel uncomfortable or feel humiliated by revealing that i could see through your disguise, and i wanted to wait for you to come clean first. but i guess… somewhere along the lines you’ve become a part of my routine and i’ve become quite fond of spending my time with you. of you. you quickly added. i know that i was going through a vulnerable moment of my life, which may have made me too trusting, but i really mean it: i’m really happy that i met you that day. i know you were just playing your role and that nothing ever meant anything… and i’m aware that you could’ve just… up and left whenever you got tired of dealing with my crap. even though it’s all fake, i’ve really enjoyed the time we got to spent together and i’m really happy i got to be with you. i’m really happy for being able to get to know you as a person, origami. »

you tried to smile to convey your gratefulness, but it came out wrong. it wavered and was visibly bittersweet. as you said that, your voice held such remorsefulness that baffled him. it was his fault in the first place, trapping the both of you in a punishment of his own creation. he should be the one apologising to you, he should be the one begging you for forgiveness as he explained himself. he should be the one who told you the truth. you had every reason to feel disgusted by him and hate him, and yet, here you were putting yourself down for his sake.

you were slightly surprised when you heard him respond, his voice no longer bearing that confident tone and smooth accent that you had recognised to be taylor’s. instead it was the boyish voice you had come to know was origami cyclone’s. but this time, it was devoid of any energy and lacked the boisterous intonation that often accompanied his words: « no, i- i’m the one who should apologise: i should’ve been the one to tell you the truth… if anyone should feel angry or betrayed, it should be you… i was the one who decided to set this all up after all…

after facing you, it was his turn to look away, avoiding your gaze.

i didn’t mean let it go this far … lying to you to this extent and for this long… but of course, i allowed it to get out of hand… i’m sorry, i should’ve told you sooner, if i ever made you uncomfortable at any point during this whole mess i’m really sorry. i... it was stupid. you never reached out for help and i’m sure you would’ve gotten through this just fine by yourself. my intent was never to manipulate you for my own gain or to use you… i had wanted to help you, naively thinking that i could fix you… it was selfish of me to just force my way into your life and help you, even though you never asked for mine. it was foolish to think i could just… pull the wool over your eyes like that, and it was unfair to you.

the blond considered stopping there, allowing a tangible silence, even more oppressive than the tension, to invade the room. should he tell you? should he…? he tried his best to summon a renewed determination. it was high time that he was honest to you, he told himself. honest to you. honest to himself, as well.

i suppose it’s pointless to lie to you, so i’ll tell you the truth: i... i— the circumstances in which we met were less than ideal, and i wished that we could’ve gotten to know each other differently, but… during the course of… whatever it is we had, i had stupidly hoped that the closeness i felt between us wasn’t imagined, and that you felt the same affection for me as i did for you.

despite his fear, he dared himself to turn back to where you had sat, bracing himself for what your eyes held. will it be repulsion? hostility? regret? vilification? he was scared, but even so he faced them.

my appearance may have not been mine, but my actions were. you’re free to doubt the validity of my words, but… even though i was pretending to be someone else i- my feelings are true. »

finding himself surprised for the umpteenth time that day, you fully turned to face him. you didn’t seem to be reacting badly, but you weren’t reacting much at all. you simply sat there, stunned at his display of honesty. were you combing through his words to detect any possible lies? he figured he deserved that level of distrust, after doing nothing but lie to you. he knows he shouldn’t feel so relieved when he wasn’t even in the clear yet, but at least you weren’t reacting badly and he was infinitely grateful for your seemingly infinite graciousness.

finally, you seemed to have recovered your voice: « i believe you. »

three words. three simple words that managed to lift all the weight off of his shoulders. you believed him. he didn’t deserve your forgiveness, and yet you gave it to him freely.

« could i see… no, nevermind. you had retracted your hesitant request. i’ve already made you go through too much for my sake. i’m grateful for being able to see you, regardless of who you look like. »

he shook his head, relenting: « you deserve to know the truth. it’s the least i could do after everything i made you endure… » with a blue flash, “taylor” disappeared. in their place was a young man with a mop of unruly blond hair. he fidgeted nervously with his hands under the baggy purple varsity jacket he wore, which coupled with his hunched posture, made him look smaller than he probably was. his striking and alluring purple eyes seemed to be permanently locked into an expression of worry and refused to meet your eyes. « i’m sorry… i’m probably way off from what you expected... » he muttered, dejectedly.

not expecting any sort of positive reaction for his underwhelming appearance, he turned his amethyst eyes elsewhere. he waited for your reaction, anticipating the worst. always anticipating the worst.

in one swift motion, you reached out to embrace him tightly. his body tensed up, having been caught off guard by the sudden affectionate gesture. his hands dropped from their hovering around your form as his wide eyes ran wildly across the room before they returned to settle on you. confusion laced his voice as he softly called out your name. he didn't know what to do with his arms as you wrapped your arms around him ever so gently. should he return… your gesture? but his arms laid uselessly next to him, still too stunned by your response.

yet again, he felt that same tingly feeling where you held him. the warmth that you brought to him reawakened those butterflies, making him feel light and fuzzy. is this ok? is feeling like this ok? is liking you ok?

« stop saying stuff like that about yourself, origami… you keep underselling yourself. you’re incredible, you’re kind, and yet you’re humble. your voice was soft as you spoke. i wasn’t just waxing poetics when i praised you, not just lip service to appeal to you because i could see behind your trick. i meant it when i said i admired you. even before i met you, i’ve admired you. »

you pulled away, if only to place your hands on either side of his face and to lift his eyes, making him face you, properly face you, for the first time in a long time. he was taken aback by how gentle and soft your gaze was. who were those kind eyes for? surely not him. he didn’t deserve such honest adoration. there was no reason for admiration, contentment, or appreciation to have their eyes on him. and yet, those compassionate eyes continue to gaze back at him. your beautiful eyes continued to look back at his own dull eyes.

was this really ok after everything he put you through? was it really ok to derive so much comfort from your hold?

you hoped your continued eye contact conveyed your sincerity.

« origami, you’re one of the most selfless and brave person i’ve ever had the pleasure of knowing, and now i’ve come to learn that you’re handsome to boot. you never cease to amaze me in the best way possible, and im so so grateful that you’re still here ori— finally waking from his daze and regaining some semblance of control over his limbs, he moved his arm to return your hold and wrapped them closely around you. he allowed the warmth he felt to fully consume him and buried his face in the crook of your neck, trying to get as physically close to you as possible. – ivan. he whispered in your ear, almost afraid. – ivan…? you echoed. – … my name is ivan. – is that so? then... thank you, ivan. thank you so so much. thank you for being here for me. thank you for everything. »

he knows now with certainty that he adores the way his name sounded with your voice. he couldn’t see your face from the position you were in, but he could imagine your captivating smile. the same one he adored so much. your careful hands had traveled to his head, stroking his hair, playing with an errant lock, and he adores your touch.

the small kindling that you had lit turned into a newfound courage that consumed him like wildfire. this unwanted and foolish adoration he held for you had proven itself to be phoenix, renewing itself as heartfelt and profound.

if you had allowed it, then he’s sure it was ok to be like this. to like being with you.

he adored you. and he hopes you adored him in kind.

« i— »

as he was about to say something, his communicator beeped relentlessly and he has never hated that sound more in his life until now. taken slightly by surprise, you both let go of each other and looked confused at each other—though he was intimately aware of where you rested your hands when you let go of each other: one on his shoulder, the other one on his hip. the latter of which he thoughtlessly gripped with his free hand, keeping it in place, not willing to part from you quite yet. not willing to let go quite yet. he whipped his right hand up, fumbling between taking this call and apologising to you for having interrupted what had been a very pleasant moment, the unexpected call flustering him. up until now, it had never annoyed him quite to this extent. he grumbled something you didn’t quite catch. his gaze flicked back and forth, from you, to his communicator, back to you.

he needed to take this, he needed to be there for agnes’ briefing. it was time sensitive, but so was the thing he wanted to tell you. he was torn: he needed to tell you something. he needed to answer before his employer forcefully answered his call for him and intruded.

« i… »

the indecision was clear in his eyes, so instead you made the choice for him: « it’s alright, go. »

you let your hand trail up his jaw, and placed it there. his attention was immediately brought back to you and the pleasant buzzing that often followed your touch. you smiled as you felt his hand follow your own and moved to rest it atop yours.

« i’ll be cheering for you, love. »

a/n: might fuck around and make a fluffy sequel who knows

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rosethornewrites · 4 years

Text

Fic: the thread may stretch or tangle but it will never break, ch. 10

Additional Tags: Pre-Slash, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Secrets, Crying, Masks, Soulmates, Truth, Self-Esteem Issues, Regret, It was supposed to be a one-shot, Fix-It, Eventual Relationships, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, wwx needs a hug, Nightmares, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Filial Piety, Handfasting, Phobias, Sleeping Together, Fear, Panic Attacks, Love Confessions, Getting Together, First Kiss, Kissing, Boys Kissing, Family, and they were married, Bathing/Washing, Hair Braiding, Hair Brushing, Feels, Sex Education, Implied Sexual Content, First Time, Aftercare, Morning After, Afterglow, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Implied/Referenced Torture, Scars

Summary: A necessary discussion is had between Lan XiChen and the refugees, and between the brothers.

Notes: Chuntao, the name I gave a random auntie, means spring peach. I headcanon that popo and jifu are basically the Dafan Wen elders at this point, thus why they stay for the entire discussion. Can you imagine being lxc and being shown undeniable proof that you’ve been lied to by your sworn brother—oh wait, that’s canon. But this discussion had to be had without wwx present for a variety of reasons, especially from lwj’s perspective. Basically, wwx has enough burdening him, and lwj feels it’s his turn to shoulder some of it (and high time the rest of the cultivation world shouldered some of it as well). Also, there’s just a lot of philosophical aspects here, including Laozi, Confucius, Mozi, Sun Tzu, Mencius, etc. A lot of ancient Chinese philosophy is rather anti-war (coming from multiple periods involving warring states) or even advocates overthrowing rulers who are cruel to the people. The included Sun Tzu quote referenced by lxc was basically to convince captured soldiers to fight for your side (especially charioteers) through kind treatment, so while it doesn’t technically apply to civilians one could imagine you’d want civilians to be willing to provide for troops. I’m really just starting to delve into it all.

AO3 link

Chapters: 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9

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Lan WangJi can’t help but notice that XiChen’s attention is on Wei Ying, as popo and Wen Qing keep putting food in his bowl and bullying him to eat more. Where normally Wei Ying would be endearingly dramatic about it, for the amusement of all, today he eats quietly, accepting their cajoling without complaint.

A-Yuan is the one to ease Wei Ying from the odd quiet, holding up his chopsticks with a bit of food.

“Xian-gege eat!” he demands. “Xian-gege too skinny.”

The delivery is a mix of popo and Wen Qing while also being completely a-Yuan, and Wei Ying laughs with the rest of the Wens before eating the morsel of food and reaching forward to pinch the boy’s cheek.

“All right, a-Yuan, I’m eating. I promise. You eat yours, and I’ll eat mine.”

The interaction leaves XiChen smiling in amusement, but there are other emotions under the surface, questions Lan WangJi knows he wants to ask but is holding back. He knows eventually he’ll have to answer some of them, but for now he joins the others in adding food to Wei Ying’s bowl.

His zhiji gives him a look of mock betrayal, then holds out his chopsticks with a bite of food and an expectant look that Lan WangJi indulges, taking the bite of food. But then he feeds Wei Ying with his own chopsticks, something that makes some Wens chuckle and Wei Ying blush. He doesn’t look at XiChen to see his reaction.

Lunch is over too soon, and Wen Qing plops a-Yuan into Wei Ying’s lap.

“Nap time for little boys,” she jokes.

“Xianxian isn’t little,” Wei Ying chirps. “Xianxian is three.”

Wen Qing rolls her eyes at the game.

“Brat,” she says, but fails to hide a smile. “Go on, then.”

Lan WangJi touches his shoulder before he can move to get up.

“Would you like me to play for you until you sleep?”

He is gifted with an adoring smile.

“We’ll be fine. Spend time with your brother.”

Wei Ying nods to Zewu-Jun.

“I hope you don’t need to leave too quickly.”

XiChen smiles, clearly picking up on his meaning.

“No, I’ll still be here later. I hope to spend some time getting to know the people here.”

Wei Ying nods, though his expression briefly dips into a sort of knowing pity at what he likely knows they will learn, then takes a breath that’s half yawn. He stands, hefting a-Yuan.

“Aiya… I guess a-Yuan and I get to try out the new bed first. Time for little radishes to sleep.”

He heads off through the interior passage to the cave, and a-Yuan’s response echoes.

“Xian-gege is a radish too? Can a-Yuan call you Luobo-gege?”

The echoing of Wei Ying’s laughter is almost musical.

Unfortunately, with Wei Ying gone, XiChen’s questioning gaze turns to Lan WangJi. He meets his brother’s gaze stoically, intending to answer questions, but he will not offer information.

“Everyone seemed insistent on urging WuXian to eat,” XiChen finally says.

It isn’t a question, but Wen Qing answers anyway.

“It took a while to get food growing. We didn’t have a lot. That idiot kept slipping his rations to a-Yuan. We’re breaking him of that, now that there’s enough food.”

It surprises Lan WangJi when his brother looks alarmed at that.

“But he can no longer practice inedia,” he breathes. “How badly has his health been impacted?”

Wen Qing glances at Lan WangJi, her gaze pointed, and he knows she is asking how much XiChen knows.

“Wei Ying told xiongzhang he no longer has a golden core,” he tells her. “That he did not have one when Wen Chao threw him here, and throughout the war.”

A bit of tension leaves her frame, and she turns to XiChen. The explanation is clear enough for her to understand Wei Ying didn’t reveal his sacrifice and her hand in it.

“This is not the first time in his life he has faced extreme malnourishment, and each subsequent time impacts his health more drastically. He is more susceptible to illness, doubly so without a golden core.”

“This isn’t the first time?” XiChen echoes. “WuXian has starved before?”

This time it’s a question, so Lan WangJi answers.

“After his parents died, before Jiang FengMian found him, Wei Ying spent several years homeless as a child, here in Yiling in fact. And then Burial Mounds, the three months he was missing. He told you of the resentful energy—not much grows here naturally.”

XiChen closes his eyes, and Lan WangJi is reminded how much his brother’s face expresses the emotion he feels. He can see XiChen understands exactly how poorly Wei Ying is doing, if only one aspect of it. He knows his brother will learn worse, as he did.

“He has no core to cleanse the resentful energy that infiltrates his body, which is as much a pressing matter as the starvation,” Wen Qing continues. “Only a few days ago he leeched resentful energy from a plot of land so it could be farmed safely. If not for Lan WangJi’s help, he’d still be working on it, and barely functional when he wasn’t.”

“Truly,” jifu adds, having wandered over, “when he told us we were in Burial Mounds, we thought we had been led to our deaths anyway.”

“But that boy told us we could survive,” popo says. “He’s made sure of it, but it costs him. And we can’t even stop him because otherwise things would be worse. Aiya, he’s barely grown, but he’s suffered so much.”

The aunties and uncles have pulled chairs close, and he can see XiChen studying them, finding only faces ruddy from farming, many middle aged or older. Many are nodding their agreement with popo.

“And he brought a-Ning back to us,” one of the aunties—Chuntao, if Lan WangJi’s memory serves—adds. “He tries so hard.”

“We can never repay him,” Meilin-yi says softly. “But we can try to help him, to make him healthier. Do more of the work so he can rest.”

“He is truly blessed to have your care,” XiChen says.

His comment is met with discomfort in the faces around them.

“It’s kind of you to say so, Zewu-Jin,” jifu offers. “But if not for having saved us, he could go home and live in peace. We are blessed by his righteousness, but he is condemned to this.”

Lan WangJi has not been amongst the Wen remnants away from Wei Ying much, so this is the first he’s heard of it. But this, at least, he can ease in them, if only through acknowledging the cultivation world politics in play.

“No,” he says. “Sect Leader Jin wants the amulet. Wei Ying would have been cast out, or worse, regardless.”

XiChen winces but doesn’t correct him. Wen Qing’s face goes carefully blank.

“Only those who do not seek power are fit to be entrusted with it,” she says, a variation on the teachings of Zhuangzi. “Wen RuoHan sought the yin iron and look what came of that.”

“The yin iron piece hidden at Dafan Mountain was in our goddess statue,” popo tells XiChen. “She came to life and started stealing souls when he removed it. A-Qing and a-Ning lost their parents that day.”

“A-Ning lost part of his soul that day,” Wen Qing whispers.

Wen Ning puts his hand on his sister’s shoulder in comfort, and she reaches up to place hers over it.

XiChen already looks overwhelmed, but there is so much more to tell him, including what Lan WangJi failed to report regarding the Dafan Wens during the journey he and Wei Ying undertook.

“I did not have the opportunity to report before the attack on Cloud Recesses. Wei Ying and I had to reseal the statue—Wen RuoHan sought to use it as a weapon, along with the people he had turned into puppets. These people.”

The memory of a chain around Wei Ying’s throat, of him going limp… Though it had turned out to be a ruse, the bruising around his neck had been dark enough to make clear how close he had been to death.

Truly, that Wei Ying had killed one of Wen RuoHan’s owls had likely made him a target well before Indoctrination.

“My family was held hostage to force my cooperation,” Wen Qing tells him.

XiChen sighs softly, looking around at the group as though just realizing how few of them there are, how many must have perished under Wen RuoHan or in misguided vengeance after the war.

“I wish I could change what has already happened, but we can only move forward. If you are amenable, I would like to learn more about your treatment in the labor camps.”

This has been something Lan WangJi has dreaded to learn more of, as he knows from what little he saw at Qiongqi Path that their treatment was inhuman—beyond inhumane.

Stories are told haltingly. Of screams in the night. Of beatings and torture and rotten food. Of the young women disappearing one by one—dead, raped or sold to brothels, no one knew. Of the children succumbing to illness one by one. Of others disappearing. Of brazen murder, bodies dumped into a ravine, the one where Wei Ying and Wen Qing had found Wen Ning. Of degradation and hopelessness, of waiting for death.

Of groups being taken by a smiling man “for interrogation,” and never returning.

“Some were Qishan Wen,” a-Ning breaks in. “Others were Dafan.”

Some of the Wens have scars to show XiChen, evidence of their time abused in the labor camp. Lash mark scars on backs and legs and arms. An uncle’s broken arm that had partially healed wrong and required Wen Qing to rebreak to set and heal properly. A brand mark burned in the shape of a peony on the shoulder of one of the aunties.

The brand is especially shocking, harkening to the treatment by Wen Chao’s mistress, the scar in the shape of a sun on Wei Ying’s chest. That the Jins have resorted to the same type of cruelty, even ignoring the apparent genocide of the Wens, shows Lan WangJi they are too far down the same path as Wen RuoHan, and he hopes his brother is coming to the same conclusion.

Aunties and uncles wander in and out during stories, some getting back to work after telling their piece, some helping Wen Ning clean up after lunch. Some leave for a bit, overcome by emotion, and return to tell more. Others go back to the fields, or to work with the dyes. These are tales they have experienced; they don’t need to hear them retold.

The horror of their accumulated stories, and the fact that all clans are complicit in failing to oversee or regulate, just trusting the Jin at their word… It’s overwhelming.

Eventually, only popo, jifu, Wen Qing, and Wen Ning remain in the communal hall, the others having returned to their chores, or to handle the emotions brought up by reliving their trauma privately.

“WuXian saw this?” XiChen finally asks softly, his jaw taut.

“He saw enough,” jifu says. “Not all of it, but he saw the bodies. We weren’t allowed to bury them. He probably guessed much of the rest.”

XiChen only nods, looking devastated. Whether at the betrayal of being lied to by the Jins—or one in particular—or devastation at the souls not put to rest, Lan WangJi didn’t know. Or perhaps it was having to see the effects on the living souls forced to take refuge on a mountain that was a mass grave.

It could also be his culpability as a sect leader, of one of the remaining four great sects in not establishing a way to monitor the work camps, something that should have been done regardless of the need to rebuild.

Likely, all of it weighed on his brother.

“We were told the civilians would be watched over at Qiongqi Path. That only those who took part in the war would be executed,” XiChen says softly.

He sounds lost, and Lan WangJi wonders who told him this—he thinks it is likely it was Jin GuangYao. XiChen wouldn’t look as though he felt betrayed had he only been lied to by Jin GuangShan.

“They lied,” Lan WangJi tells him bluntly. “Wei Ying and I saw Jin ZiXun using fleeing civilians in chains as target practice. Women, children, old men… When we confronted him, he claimed the Lan and Nie sect leaders had agreed anyone concerned with yin iron should not be alive.”

He watches XiChen close his eyes again, watches shame cross his face—the same shame he has felt, a necessary shame.

“‘Captured soldiers should be treated kindly and kept,’” he murmurs, quoting Sun Tzu. “That civilians would be treated with such cruelty…”

His voice is hoarse, as he seems to recognize the immorality of what was allowed to occur, that perhaps the warning against becoming one’s enemy has been disregarded too easily, and something akin to the depravity of Wen RuoHan has taken hold, unchecked until Wei Ying’s actions.

And Wei Ying has been painted as the villain, the subject of a vicious rumor campaign including accusations of grave robbing, kidnapping, and cannibalism, the source of all ills, when he is simply farming and trying to survive.

The anger Lan WangJi felt in the tea house threatens to rise to the surface again, the slander against his zhiji, his husband, someone who upholds the values of justice and righteousness at the cost of his freedom and reputation, absolutely unacceptable.

“Their camps were just a way to kill us more slowly, outside the view of the other sects,” Wen Qing comments. “A-Ning was pierced though with a defaced Qishan Wen flag and tossed down a ravine to rest among the bodies of others killed. He was still alive when we got there, but his spiritual cognition was gone. The guards killed were those who participated in his murder.”

“I d-don’t remember killing anyone,” Wen Ning admits. “Nothing between p-passing out from pain and waking up here. It’s just a b-blank space in my memory.”

“There were at least fifty bodies down there,” Wen Qing whispers. “Wei WuXian waded into the water with me, and we checked each one until I found him.”

XiChen winces, his fist clenched under the table. He knows, likely, that their testimonies will mean little in terms of seeking justice. The winners of the war would decide the narrative of the labor camps, and the Jins had plenty of time since Wei Ying’s actions to erase evidence of their crimes.

That night in the rain, Wei Ying’s expression had been of a man disillusioned, a man who could take no more of the established order if it meant tolerating injustice. And if he had spent that time wading in fetid water tainted by corpses, seeking the body of the man he owed his life to, his friend, knowing that man was almost certainly dead… Lan WangJi could understand what would lead him to turn his back on the cultivation world that had allowed such an atrocity.

What use had Wei Ying for orthodoxy after that?

“They decided all Wens were responsible for the war,” jifu said, his voice tired. “Children like a-Yuan, grandparents like popo… Everyone. If not for young master Wei, we would be gone as well, and no one would think to care. He came to rescue a-Ning, and what he saw led him to decide he would leave none of us in that place.”

“Wen Ning rescued Jiang Cheng after the fall of Lotus Pier, and likely prevented Wei Ying’s death during indoctrination,” Lan WangJi explains.

“During indoctrination?” XiChen asks.

“Wen Chao p-put him in the dungeon with a d-direwolf,” Wen Ning supplies haltingly.

Lan WangJi goes cold—not a mere dog, but a direwolf? That Wei Ying survived long enough for aid to come is a miracle. He wonders how badly his husband was injured, but knows the herbs and energy boosting medicine at least left no scarring; he has mapped each of Wei Ying’s scars each night, and none seem to correspond with the rips that had been in his robes that day.

But back then, Wei Ying had a strong golden core.

“They did not expect him to survive the night,” Lan WangJi manages, though his calm is forced. “He believes he was intended to be an example, a warning to the rest of us.”

“Wen Chao did intend that,” Wen Qing acknowledges, lips pursed. “He was furious he survived. I knew a-Ning had intervened, but not that Wei WuXian had been locked in with that beast until later.”

XiChen is quiet for a bit, pale and clearly digesting the information. Lan WangJi is certain he knows this only scratches the surface of Wei Ying’s trauma, especially as xiongzhang is unaware Wei Ying is terrified of dogs, that he is revisiting his earlier feelings of having failed him—he has felt all of this himself. He still feels it.

“Then it seems WuXian owes a life debt to Wen QiongLin,” XiChen finally comments. “Which would usually expire upon death, but he remains spiritually conscious.”

Wen Qing draws in a sharp breath at the ramifications; though XiChen doesn’t have all the information—particularly regarding the surgery she had performed to transplant Wei Ying’s golden core to Jiang Cheng, which she seems to believe cancels out any such debt—Lan WangJi agrees with his brother’s assessment.

“Further, as WuXian was at the very least betrothed to WangJi at the time, the life debt is also his.”

While Lan WangJi fully expected this statement, it’s clear the Wens did not. Wen Qing looks overwhelmed, and Wen Ning seems confused. Jifu and popo look as though they might cry. They know what is meant here, know that this is a statement of responsibility. XiChen is condoning his support and protection of the Dafan Wens.

“GusuLan as a whole must recognize the life debt,” XiChen continues. “And as sect leader, I consider it valid. You saved my brother’s husband, and his family.”

The wording almost implies the Lan clan as a whole owes a life debt, which goes beyond what he expected—it offers an extra measure of protection. But Lan WangJi sees some of the logic his brother is going for and decides to add to it.

“Given that Wen Ning rescued Jiang Cheng from Wen Chao at Lotus Pier, and he and Wen Qing sheltered the Jiang siblings and Wei Ying at the Yiling Indoctrination Bureau, it is likely the Jiangs also owe a life debt.”

XiChen smiles at him, his eyes shrewd, calculating in a way Lan WangJi rarely sees from him. He wonders if the betrayal his brother feels over the lies he has been fed by a trusted friend has sharpened him in this way, leading him to think deviously where he usually would not.

“Of course, since Lady Jiang is to be wed to Jin ZiXuan, that would extend the life debt to him. And if Nie HuaiSang aided in protecting the Dafan Wens during the incident you mentioned, Wen Qing and Wen Ning similarly owe him a life debt.”

Wen Qing has been staring open-mouthed, but she seems to catch on quickly. Popo and jifu clearly understand and are overwhelmed. Wen Ning looks confused but seems content to listen and let his sister explain later.

“You’re proposing there exists a life debt among eight people?” she asks.

“I’m only summarizing what has occurred,” XiChen answers congenially. “I could hardly propose such a thing in the current political climate. It would undermine the Chief Cultivator. As a sect leader, that would be irresponsible of me.”

The smile on Wen Qing’s face is almost wicked.

“It seems like a matter between the eight of us,” she says. “What an auspicious number. Perhaps you would be willing to send a letter to Lady Jiang for me, Zewu-Jun? In the current political climate, anything from Yiling to Lady Jiang would garner red flags…”

“Of course. I need to send a missive to Sect Leader Jiang anyway on behalf of WangJi and WuXian, and I’m sure he would be willing to deliver a letter to his sister.”

Wen Qing rises and bows to him, then to Lan WangJi.

“Thank you. I will excuse myself to compose the letter. I’m sure Hanguang-Jun would be happy to give you a tour of our humble home.”

Popo and jifu excuse themselves to work on their projects—popo to aid in the dyeing, and jifu to work on his next carpentry project—so overcome with gratitude they almost kowtow to XiChen before they leave. XiChen, unsurprisingly, urges them not to bow; Lan WangJi knows this is partly out of guilt. Wen Qing tells Wen Ning to help with the dyeing project and move the dye vats outside before leaving as well, presumably to compose the letter.

Lan WangJi leads his brother from the hall, and around the various vegetable patches, explaining abundance of radishes nearly ready for harvest, showing him the new field with its newly sown crop of tomatoes, squash, beans, carrots, beets, peppers—for Wei Ying, he explains—and a small herb patch.

“WangJi, though the answer is obvious to me, questions will be asked about the validity of the marriage,” xiongzhang says during a lull.

He knows he is specifically thinking of shufu, but also likely of other elders who will oppose his marriage. Short of Wei Ying’s death, there is nothing they can do—and he will ensure the former does not occur.

“It has been consummated,” he replies, and is kind enough not to add ‘repeatedly’ or ‘enthusiastically’ to the assertion, however true they are. “It cannot be annulled.”

XiChen smiles and nods, and Lan WangJi leads the way back toward the settlement so he can see the structures the Wens have built and live in.

“Honestly, the closeness I witnessed between you two made that clear,” XiChen admits. “You are rarely so free with touch, WangJi, and the intimacy you share is undeniable.”

He can feel his ears heat at his brother’s unabashed comments; this is not a discussion he expected to have, but it is undeniable that touch has become an added and welcome part of his relationship with Wei Ying. He would touch him always if it were practical.

“We are happy, xiongzhang,” he says softly. “Despite the difficulties faced here, we are happy together. I know the elders and shufu will likely not be pleased with our union. If it becomes necessary for me to break with GusuLan—”

“Never,” XiChen interrupts, his tone forceful. “No, WangJi, didi… I will not allow them to cast you out. You have a responsibility to your spouse, one recognized by Lan Yi herself. You will always be welcome in the Cloud Recesses.”

Lan WangJi nods, grateful for his brother’s support. He knows he and Wei Ying, and likely the Wens as well, will have a supportive voice at Cloud Recesses.

“I will, of course, visit as much as I am able,” XiChen continues. “And if shufu insists on coming, it will be with my escort, so you may rest easy on that matter. You will probably want some of your personal items from the jingshi, as well.”

Rarely does Lan WangJi feel choked up, but XiChen’s dedication to his happiness is something that has often overwhelmed him.

“Xiongzhang, I—”

He stops when the sound of loud crying fills the air, coming from the Demon-Slaughtering Cave. Lan WangJi immediately recognizes a-Yuan’s wailing—a-Yuan, who should be napping with Wei Ying. He breaks into a run.

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