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enochianribs · 3 years

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Chapter 2 of the Cabin AU is up now!

Read on Ao3 here, or under the cut.

(Reblogs appreciated!)

The roof had a leak. Dean woke up to a growing wet spot on the pillow next to his. He laid still, eyes crossing as he stared at the ceiling, watching the bead of water run across one of the unfinished boards, suspending itself for an entire minute until it plopped right next to his head. Slowly, his mind pulled itself out of his dream, though the haze lingered. The roof had a leak. Dean woke up to a growing wet spot on the pillow next to his. He laid still, eyes crossing as he stared at the ceiling, watching the bead of water run across one of the unfinished boards, suspending itself for an entire minute until it plopped right next to his head. Slowly, his mind pulled itself out of his dream, though the haze lingered.

“Mmm...great.” Another item on his to-do list.

Dean was willing to bet there were more leaks in the living room.

For a moment he debated allowing himself to be lulled back to sleep. It was all too easy to slip back to that dream again: blurry hands, soft mouths, quiet murmurs, everything he missed and everything he’d never had. Not really.

Rain gently pattered against the outside of the cabin, the storm grinding in from the East and then settling its haunches right over the hills to stay for the night. The sun was rising, and the pink sky cast shadows from the drops on the window pane, little spots phantom dripping down his sheets.

It was the first morning since he’d gotten to the cabin that he’d slept in past sunrise. Sluggishly, he sat up, diggin the heel of his hand into his eyes as a yawn fought its way out of his chest. He turned his head, and reached out with a hand to wake his companion, before reality caught up with him and his hand fell to the mattress, going through the ghost.

That’s right , he thought. His mouth tasted like ash.

If he laid there any longer his chest would become heavy, and his breaths ragged, so he tossed the covers off, and trudged over to the shower. The cold water bit through the fog better than anything else could, and he leaned his temple against the glass door waiting for it to heat up and fill the room with steam.

Normally, he’d air dry, but it was chilly and an urgency hung around him. He grabbed the bleach-spotted towel hanging sadly by the door towelled off quickly.

He wandered idly, picking his daily morning tasks up and dropping them before he’d complete them. Something pulled him around the house. He was forgetting something.

Dean was midway through folding the quilt and draping it on the sofa arm when they caught his eye.

Two large feathers sat in the middle of the massive dining table (he still wondered who had built and what they’d been thinking— the thing could seat the knights of the round table if necessary). Tugging the fridge door with one hand he reached blindly for the pot of coffee he kept iced, and nudged it closed with his knee, never taking his eyes off them.

They were captivating. He continued to stare as he poured himself a cup, spilling some of the coffee onto the counter. He’d forget to clean it up, and it would stain, but that was okay. If they asked, he was experimenting with wood staining.

Dean could examine them once he made himself some kind of breakfast. Those were the rules: remember to feed yourself, and then you can do whatever you want to with your day. Breakfast ended up being toast and jam, and he plopped it down at the end seat of the table, and reached for the feathers before he took a bite.

The color on the first one was so dark it looked heavy, but it was as light in his hand as any feather should be. He held it up and squinted, twisting his wrist back and forth. It caught the light and reflected a shimmering oil slick back at him. The colors shifted, hues iridescent.

At first glance it could be a raven’s, but it was at least four times bigger than that.

The second one was more muted, the black towards the base of it dappled into a brown and white, and it was downy soft where the other was sharp and precise. Yesterday he’d thought it was grey but better light proved that it was a grey-brown.

He’d assumed that it was from the same bird— creature , but now he wasn’t so sure. Dean didn’t know the first thing about birds. However, he knew several people who did.

▵▿▵

“Hey, Bobby. Can I talk to Rufus?”

“He’s kinda in the middle of some’in’, Dean.” The roll of his eyes was audible, as someone yelped in the muffled background. “Can I call you back?”

“Please?” Dean asked, grinning cheekily even though he wasn’t there to warm Bobby over in person.

Bobby made a disgruntled noise and paused, before sighing. “You’re doing the face aren’t you?”

“Maybe.”

“Fine. You never want to talk to me .”

“You know that’s not true.”

“Hm.” Bobby replied. Out of spite, he kept the phone next to his face as he shouted for his attention. “Rufus! It’s Dean.”

Ouch , Dean mouthed wincing at the volume, as he listened to the sound of two old men grumbling at each other before fabric shifted, and Rufus picked up the phone.

“He lives.”

A smile burst its way through Dean’s concentration. “Hey Ruf, gotta question for you.”

“Coulda called us sooner. We were beginning to wonder if you’d sold the cabin and moved somewhere warmer with pink flamingos.”

The image made Dean snort. Him at the beach? Unlikely.

“Nope.” Dean quipped. “Still here and freezing my ass off. You guys ever think about installing a damn heater?”

“And pay that bill? Hell no. We added a fireplace, what more do you want from us.”

Good ol’ crabby Rufus. “What do you know about birds?”

“A lot.” As per usual, he was being obtuse.

“Know of any big enough to leave behind two foot feathers?”

Rufus whistled. “Not in North America, unless you’ve got ostriches running around.”

“That’d be a negatory. So there’s nothing you can think of?”

“Nope. Did you find something, kid?”

“Holding one right now.”

“No shit.” He could hear the bewildered tone of his voice over the shitty connection. “Well, I guess keep an eye out. It’d be real hard for something that big to hide, and even harder for it to sit comfortable in those pine trees with the branches so dense. I’d say you’re about to make the biggest zoological discovery in North America in the past century. Keep us posted?”

“Will do.” Dean said, and he heard Rufus handing the phone back over to Bobby.

“Hope everything’s okay up there, Dean.”

“Everything’s peachy, honestly. Anyways—” He checked the clock on the stove. 8:30. The hardware store would be open in a half hour. “I’ve got some errands to run, so I’ll leave you to whatever it is a couple of old farts do in retirement.”

“Hey—”

Dean grinned to himself. “See ya, Bobby.”

“Take care of yourself.”

“I will.”

The line went silent, and Dean shoved his phone back into his pocket, bobbing his head to the side in thought. Though he didn’t get a definitive answer, at least the call had eliminated the options of native fauna.

▵▿▵

At nine in the morning, Dean was usually one of a small line of people waiting outside Lafitte’s Goods to needle Benny’s brain for fixes and tools of the trade. Pamela was waiting against the brick wall, hand shielding the summer morning sun from her eyes, reading a 99 cent paper back with interest.

“Hey, Pamela.”

“Dean-o. Call me Pammy.”

“Really?”

“No, of course not. But Pam works. I’m not your mother.”

“You call your mom by her first name?”

“Fair point. What’re you here for?” She nodded her head and bounced off the wall, as Benny unlocked the doors. A couple of grizzled old men shuffled in ahead of them, beelining it for the plywood.

Porch season.

“Roof’s got a leak.”

“Leak season.”

“Apparently. This is the third one since I got here.”

She squinted at him, like he was omitting something important, and popped the bubble of gum in her mouth. Dean started to itch under her scrutiny. He hated being studied like a lab rat.

What was the woman? A witch? Why was she peeling back layers of his get-up without warning.

Dean coughed, and used Benny’s presence as an excuse to wiggle out from under her gaze. “Gotta— yeah, see you.” Turning on his heel he fled towards the adhesives, face contorting with embarrassment.

Holy fuck, somehow he’d gotten even more awkward.

Dear god, help me.

Benny never pried unless Dean seemed interested in offering up information, and for that Dean was actually incredibly grateful. Most days he didn’t want to talk about anything, certainly not his past, but Benny and his bushy beard and warm eyes had managed to wiggle through his walls, just a little.

“Benny.”

Benny stared at him from behind the register, inquisitive expression considerably easier to cope with than Barnes' hungry expression. A friendly smile danced across his face as he assessed Dean’s no-doubt rosey cheeks.

“She’s got her claws in you, huh.”

Dean ducked his head, glancing sideways at the brunette woman still looking at the different kinds of rope. A tramp stamp peeked out from under the bottom edge of her tank top. Dean tapped his fingers on the pock-marked wood counter and turned his attention back to his friend. “Is she always like that?”

“Sure is,” Benny drawled, ringing up everything Dean had haphazardly shoved onto the counter in his escape. “You just happen to be the newest, prettiest , plaything in Pringle.” The burly man winked.

Pink crawled up Dean’s neck from his collarbones and spread into his cheeks once again. Christ, there was no escape from these people. Still stammering, Dean practically ran back to the Impala.

▵▿▵

The phone vibrated in his back pocket. By the third ring, Dean had parked Baby in her usual spot, and he struggled to tug it out of his pocket, checking the Caller ID.

California.

He pumped the window down, the air getting warm inside the car, and he flipped the phone open, inhaling sharply. He should have called before now. Shouldn’t have let so much time pass. In the fall, he’d be too busy to take any of Dean’s calls anyways.

“Hello?”

“Dean?”

“Sammy.”

Several seconds of too-long silence passed between them.

“Where have you been?”

Dean swallowed, thick, guilt permeating the small space.

“Sorry, I just—” He didn’t have an excuse. “I didn’t know what to say.”

“You still could’ve picked up the phone. I tried to call you about six times. You don’t always need to have something to say, y’know… It just would’ve been nice to know you’re still breathing.” His brother’s voice was basically a whisper at the end.

“I know.” Dean closed his eyes, pinched the bridge of his nose, sighing shakily. “I know.”

“I had to hear it from Bobby. Dean—” Sam’s voice pitched up to that octave it always did when he was upset. “Dad’s gone again.”

Fuck.

“And that’s fine. It’s not like I’m ten and incapable of caring for myself but I thought— I thought he’d be back by now. It’s been a couple of weeks.”

“Shit, Sammy.”

“I think he’s fine. He sent a vague text a couple of days ago, it’s just with school starting in two months I get worried. Not even for him, just for us. I can’t pay for school myself, and I can’t afford to miss anything because of Dad. If my grades drop, I’m out.”

“I know.” God, Dean knew.

Sam was a late bloomer for college. The kid was brilliant, but he’d been dealt a bad hand, and it was a miracle Rufus and Bobby had invested in a saving fund for the two of them decades ago. At twenty-two, Dean knew that he’d already had trouble securing the scholarships. Stanford wanted the best and brightest, not the kid with seven schools on his high school transcript and an overabundance of unexcused absences.

The guilt piled up and perched itself on his shoulders until he sagged into his seat under the heaviness. It was his job to keep John out of trouble, not Sammy’s. And instead he’d run away from that responsibility.

The repair materials sat in the backseat, and his heart twisted in his chest. The meadow sat peacefully in the late afternoon sun, just across the short distance of woods, and it still kept its secret. He didn’t want to go back. Not yet. Not until he’d had his fill of independence.

“Look,” He could kick himself for how his voice cracked. “If John doesn’t turn up by the end of the week, I’ll come back. I’ll help. Promise.”

For what it was worth, a facet of his brother’s relieved sigh sounded apologetic.“Thank you, Dean. I don’t know how to do this without you.”

“Okay then.”

“Bye.”

“Talk to you soon, Sammy.” Dean’s jaw clenched involuntarily, as he flipped the phone closed and tossed it against the passenger door. His frustrated shout echoed between him and the trees, but he didn’t feel better.

Always this .

Historically, John would do something stupid and irresponsible and Dean would drop everythign to clean up the mess and no one would thank him. Not really. That was fine.

Family was supposed to break your heart.

▵▿▵

The leak proved to be an easy fix.

Dean fought the attic door that led to the roof, following the small staircase up until he was on the balls of his feet, head sticking out as he pulled himself onto it. The shingles were rough, cracked and damaged from the winters, and he scrapped the length of his arm against it.

The source of the leak took only a minute to find. Five or so shingles were missing, leaving nothing but the wood underneath, which did nothing but absorb any and all precipitation. The rubber sealant smelled terrible, and he gagged dramatically, almost dropping the metal can in the process. Done applying, he plopped his ass down, determined to see it dry properly before he went back inside.

Half assing things had always resulted in a stern talking to in the least, and it had been something he’d struggled with growing up, his mind yanking him a thousand directions until his head was spinning and John was disappointed.

Dean grit his teeth, purposefully dragging the raw scrape against the rough roofing, the burn biting through the thought, bringing him back down from that far off place he so frequently wandered to. He didn’t even know how he got there, but he found himself lost, shrunk down, smaller than the hand-me-down leather jacket he tried to fill.

From the roof he could see almost everything. It turned out that Rufus and Bobby’s cabin foundation was built onto a gentle slope.

The rain clouds had dissipated, migrating to the flat plains further south, and it left a crisp atmosphere behind. The sun poked through the remaining gargantuan cumulonimbus clouds, sunbeams gently caressing the grass. Grey mist rose from where the creek beds greedily absorbed the heat. It reminded him of the paintings of cowboys, sitting on a stallion, bathed in golden light, their backs to the audience, all the edges illuminated and throwing everything else into stark purple shadows.

The burn of the scrape subsided as a sense of peace settled Dean, his body melting into the shingles. An hour passed before his stomach growled, and he climbed back down for lunch.

▵▿▵

Tapping.

Tapping at the window pane only inches from his face.

Groggy and only slightly encrusted (gross) Dean opened his eyes and was met by dark blue ones, a tawny human hand pressed up against the glass.

Dean’s soul evaporated out of his body, back pressed to the headboard as he scrabbled for the small knife he kept under his pillow. Before he could look again, it was gone.He launched himself out of bed, so very entirely grateful that he’d had enough sense to go to sleep in his boxers and his worn-out threadbare Kansas shirt.

Holy hell.

Fingers trembling, he opened the window, leaning almost all the way out, hovering a few feet above the ground.A single feather slowly came to rest soundlessly on the pine-needle carpet. The view from the window remained unyieldingly motionless.

Black-eyed susans had begun to sprout in the shade, despite themselves, and now they quivered where they grew between the pine-roots even though the morning wind had not pierced through the woods yet.

Craning his neck, he glanced up, half expecting the last thing he’d ever see to be a terrifying bird man staring down at him like he was lunch. Nothing.

Dean practically fell out of his room, chanting under his breath in a poor attempt to calm himself down as he stumbled down the short hall to the living room.

It’s human.

“No,” Dean spoke to the picture frames on the walls. He had no idea what he was denying, but the situation begged to be denied. He paced back and forth in the living room, no doubt wearing the floor down despite the fact that he was wearing socks— the ones with the holes in the heel. “It’s okay. It’s okay.”

Oh my God, it was so very not okay.

Suddenly, the couch seemed like the perfect place to suffocate himself to unconsciousness. Someone else could deal with this.

No , he thought. You wanted this to happen, you dirty liar. Stop panicking and deal with it.

Wings was human- or at least partially human. He looked like a man. Dean’s thin eyelids fluttered closed, and the image was painted on the backside of them with crystal clarity. Square jawline, arrow-straight nose, curiously arched eyebrows… and the eyes . They were so blue. And they had been looking right at him. Watching him.

It was entirely ridiculous that his eyes overshadowed the massive lurking darkness behind him, of what had to have been his wings.

A human with wings.

This was crazy. Everything was crazy.

The way he saw it, there were two directions this could go: he could pretend he hadn’t seen anything, and this would be tucked away into the delusion box that he kept under lock and key at the back of his mind and he could grow old being none the wiser of whatever breach of reality this was, or he could go find it.

The first option was sounding real nice. Normal. Well adjusted.

He was well adjusted.

Besides, Dean wasn’t entirely convinced it wasn’t a dream. this entire thing was a fever dream and he was in some hospital bed back in Lawrence, stuck in a coma. Dean pinched himself, viciously and stared at the white marks left on his forearm, helpless.

Nope.

“Okay.” He barked out a laugh.

He should call Jo.

After a few more minutes of pacing and hyperventilating, he decided against it. He would tell her— of course he would! —but when it came up.

The Harvelle’s were good people and they’d shown him nothing but kindness.

The situation had to be broached with care, or the small home he’d built in the life he wanted to live would topple in on itself, and the rubble and dust would drown him.

Trust issues were a problem of his, and he’d been aware of them since high school, when he’d had too many secrets to keep and any semblance of a support system was states away.

God, he knew the way he clammed up was obvious, but sometimes he surprised even himself. If he was being honest, there was a lot more to it than a strong need for privacy. Didn’t matter though. In the end, after all the nit-picking and self beratement, it boiled down to fear.

Jo could keep her mouth closed, but there was always a chance she’d accidentally tell someone, and there was a high chance it would be the wrong person. If he let it slip that this thing existed, who knew what would come packing. And he knew sooner or later, someone would bring the heat. Words got around easily in a small town like Pringle and he knew everyone would be at his door, wanting a chance to see the freak of the week.

Which… was a thing that existed. A human with wings, that called the small clearing his home.

His heart skipped a beat at the thought. He felt protective over the man, almost ferociously so.

The day’s hunting trip wasn’t happening— now Dean was paranoid.

What if he accidently shot him? Or scared him off permanently?

His stomach churned, acid and bile climbing their way up his throat. The burn was familiar. Half his childhood had been spent subsiding panic attacks and anxiety, calming down Dad or Sam or both at the same time.

▵▿▵

The tin echo of a gunshot managed to penetrate through the thick log walls of the cabin.In a heartbeat, he was scrambling for the ancient shotgun. The front door swung open, the little voice in his head told him to close it behind him, but his feet carried him quicker than his mind and so he left it swinging on its hinges at his back.

An anguished scream gargled its way from somewhere deeper into the woods, due south of the cabin. Rocks dashed the soles of Dean’s feat and he swore out loud, having forgotten his boots at the door.

Shit shit shit.

Someone was nearby, and they were ballsy enough to fire a weapon despite the illegality of hunting on private property. His mind raced at the same speed he ran towards it, a limp skewing his gate every few steps. Stray branches caught the sleeves of his shirt, tearing through the fabric as he refused to slow down.

It’s just a deer.

He knew better.

They’re just after a deer, or a bison that wandered away from the heard or an elk or something—

Another blood curdling scream erupted from amongst the pine, this one loud enough to rattle the crows out of their nests. They cawed, the sound of dozens of pairs of wings taking flight muting the pained groans.

He knew better.

Please— please. Not Wings.

He faltered over a boulder, panic overtaking muscle memory and skidded to a halt at the crest of a ledge. The scene below knocked the breath out of his chest, leaving a vacuum in its wake.

Campbell, one of the more elderly hunters of the area was standing over another tawny body. Giant black wings sprawled out, twisting and twitching in the dirt and mud, feathers slightly splayed underneath his back.

Campbell’s face distorted in pain, a tense moment passing before his wild eyes landed on Dean, the whites of his too visible, even from ten yards away. Blood pumped out from a wound on his neck, and he had a hand clamped down onto it, slick with red, he held a shotgun limply in his left hand, the butt of it dropped heavily to the ground.

Semi-satisfied that Campbell didn’t seem interested in shooting again, Dean fixated every ounce of attention on Wings and his breath hitched. Smeared across his mouth and chin was a copious amount of blood. He’d bitten Campbell. Dean’s heart swelled with pride.

Good .

His short encounter with Campbell prior had proved that the man was a bag of dicks, cocky and far too keen on the killing aspect of hunting. It skeeved Dean out then, and it certainly did now. Campbell was still looking at Wings like he was prey. Though no component of the scene begged to differ: the man was naked, teeth bared, but he was incapable of escaping, the gunshot wound in his abdomen bleeding him dry.

Dean leveled the end of his shotgun at Campbell’s head. “Get the fuck away from him.”

Campbell backed away from Wings, the muscles in his right arm tensed, like he wanted to put it up defensively, but it was necessary he kept pressure on the wound. It looked like Wings had gone for the jugular. “It attacked me, Winchester.”

“And?”

“You’re fucking crazy.”

Dean would put money on the fact that he looked the part, he could feel his chest heaving, something akin to dull rage pumping through his veins. He prayed the tremor in his hand didn’t betray his hesitation. “I said move .”

Obeying his orders, Campbell stepped back, never taking his eyes off of the strange man. Agony flashed across his face where he laid in the dirt.In his hands, he held a silver blade. Wings looked from Campbell to Dean, expression visibly softening.

“Give me your coat.” Dean didn’t have much time, glancing at Wings, he saw that a red gleam of blood was starting to trickle from the corner of his mouth and his eyes moved frantically. He slid down the slope and went to take off his jacket and remembered his was only in his boxers. “ NOW .”

Campbell shirked it off and threw it at Dean, staying exactly where he was. Moving quickly, Dean pressed the thick fabric to the wound, moving his other hand to the back side to see where the bullet went. There was no opening there, and he was thankful that Wings was naked. He could skip the sometimes detrimental process of removing his clothes to assess the wound better.

He tied the jacket around him and slid one arm under his legs and the other across his shoulder blades, lifting him up carefully. Dean had to get him back to his house immediately, before Wings lost too much blood.

One last time, he regarded Campbell. He felt the sneer tug his lip up, his voice like acid trying to eat through the other man’s bones until he was nothing. “Get the fuck off my property. And don’t tell anyone about this. He’ll be fine, not that you care. But you won’t be if I see you here again, or if I hear about this from anyone. Do I make myself clear?”

Samuel’s eyes darkened clearly at war with Dean’s threat, but his skin was taking on a pallor akin to lethal blood loss. He nodded curtly, acknowledging the agreement, at least for the moment.

Reasonably satisfied that Campbell wouldn’t shoot them in the back, Dean turned and left, the body draped over his shoulder too warm.Dean’s hand wrapped around, hand feathering over his taut side, avoiding the wound. He could feel his fingers wet with blood.

Wings was whispering something feverishly, though Dean couldn’t catch a word of it, his eyes glazed over with pain, searching the sky for something with a fervor of a religious man with hell hounds on his heels.

“It’s okay. It’s okay.” Dean murmured, straining to carry the both of them the distance to the cabin. “I’ve got you.”

Wing’s head lolled to the side, and his body went slack. Tears pricked the corners of his eyes, but Dean couldn’t afford to cry now. If he did, he wouldn’t be able to get them inside safely. He swallowed the terror. He ducked and wove through the undergrowth, fearing that the drooping wings would catch on a branch or boulder.

The time it took until he could lay Wings down on his dining room table felt like hell had manifested on Earth, keenly able to feel life slipping away in his arms.

Once Dean managed to put Wings on the table without his head smacking the wood, he tore the kitchen apart for salt and a bowl of water and some clean washcloths, and sprinted to the bathroom, yanking the drawers out and emptying their contents onto the counter and sink until his eyes landed on the tweezers and isopropyl alcohol.

It wasn’t a perfect med kit, but there was no other choice. It had to do.

Dean approached the table cautiously, worried that too much movement would set him off. The dark wingspan spread out almost three feet on either side of the table and Dean swallowed a stone.

He had no idea what to do next, not really. The closest experience he’d had to being a doctor had been treating John’s stab wound when he was thirteen and John had come home more beaten than usual.

He stared helplessly down at Wings.

“He...help.” Wings voice was like a ghost’s, he barely heard it, and he was standing right next to him. He looked up at the cobwebbed chandelier lighting like it was something holy and mesmerizing and Dean realized he was losing him.

“Shhh… it’s okay.” His forehead was sticky with sweat and drying blood, and Dean pushed some of the unruly black wisps from his eyes, humming low. “I’m gonna help you.”

Wings hand shook, following the edge of the table, feverishly searching for something to hold onto. Tentatively, Dean slid his fingers between his, feeling his calloused palm against his own. “Wings. Wings, you gotta listen to me. Wings, please . You have to lay still.”

He had no idea if the man understood a single word he was saying, but it seemed to do the trick. Over the span of a terrible minute, his breathing slowed down, and his grip on Dean’s hand went from frail to almost bone crushingly alive.

Wings’ blue eyes were on him, flickering a little in the low light. Dean waited, untrained, unable and unwilling to play operation on him while he was still conscious, eyes desperate to look at anything but the daunting task before him.

Eventually, he passed out, his painful grimace replaced by a soft one, and Dean began to remove the shrapnel bullet, praying to anyone who was listening that it had not shredded his insides beyond repair.

▵▿▵

At some point in the night, Dean had gotten up to draw the curtains and lock the door, willing to sacrifice only a moment to seal them away from the rest of the world.

Now, sunlight pierced through the cracks, illuminating them both in thin lines of white light. He watched Wings toss and turn, his face gnarling into pain each time he moved.

What if Dean had fucked it up? What if the next breath he drew was his last? His mind raced, punishing him for every moment’s hesitation that could very well lead to his death.

Dean caught himself following Wings jawline, examining the stark contours of his face like he would never see them again. Please, just please make it out alive.

“Don’t die on me, Wings.” The words slipped out subconsciously. “Please, God, don’t die on me.”

Dean had the decency to cover him up with the quilt. The two’s hands were still tightly entwined long after the heartbeat in Wing’s wrist lulled Dean into sleep, tumbling heart over head.

#honestly i think i'm gonna reverse the title #I HATE TITLES what kinda corny ass things i come up with lmao #but for now.#that's what its called #cabin au #*#mine

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glenncoco4 · 3 years

Text

You Can’t Count On Me

A/N: Chapter 6

••••

The sunlight streams in from the window, illuminating the two bodies buried underneath the fluffy white comforter. He slowly feels consciousness pull him into reality and what a spectacular reality it is. Peering down his body, the form of his beautiful girlfriend as she slowly startles awake brings a smile to his face. “Good morning, sunshine.”

She hums in appreciation as his lips touch the crown of her head and his fingers delicately dance up and down her spine, bringing a welcomed shiver through her body. “Mmmm. Am I dreaming?”

“No. Definitely not dreaming.”

“You know the last time I woke up after we made love, I was alone.”

“I’m sorry.”

She brushes off his apology, tilting her head back, the brunette brings her eyes to his. It’s been 4 months of her constantly thinking about what would’ve happened if he hadn’t left, and she always comes to the same conclusion. “At first I was kinda mad, but then I realized that if we had woken up together it might’ve been a little awkward or I may have panicked like I tend to do.”

“How do you mean?”

Her head finds his pillow as she burrows her face into the crook of his neck, breathing in the scent that is so uniquely him. “Well, we never really talked about our feelings before we jumped into bed together. I mean we loved each other of course but it wasn’t verbalized that we were head over hills in love.”

His silence startles her and she begrudgingly props herself up on his chest only to be met with a goofy grin playing at his lips. “What?”

“I love you.”

God those words coming from his lips is something she never let herself think about, but now its all she can think about. The feel of his touch, his smile...he’s everything. Throwing her leg over his waist, her heat meets his already hardening member, and oh how she loves everything about this new part of their relationship. “I love you, too, but I can probably show you better than I can tell you.” Leaning down, she can’t help but mirror his smile with one of her own as her lips meet his.

••••

After a very productive morning in bed the pair make their way into the Mission for the first time as partners. Kensi reached her desk, toss a deck of cards into his hands. “I need you to quiz me.”

“For?”

“I have lunch with Anna today.”

“I can’t believe she thinks you’re a curator.”

“What about you? She thinks you’re that guy from Fired Up.”

“I do fit the part, baby.”

They both freeze as the term of endearment leaves his lips. It’s weird but a good weird.

At the sound of their colleagues walking into the bullpen their smiles quickly vanish as Deeks lifts up the first card.

“Oh, uh, uh, Matisse?”

“Nope. Munch.”

He holds up the next.

“Van Gogh?”

“Cezanne.” He shakes his head in disbelief. “Seriously, Kens, why are you doing this?”

Before she can answer, Sam walks in, observing the pair. “Hazing the new guy or is he hazing you?”

“Haze me, Kens, please?” The shaggy blonde holds up the next card for his girlfriend, knowing there’s no way she’ll get this one.

“Seurat.” She answers.

The ex-Navy SEAL gets a glimpse of the card, instantly knowing the right answer. “Monet.”

“Bing. Bing. Bing. Sam proceeds to the bonus round and Kensi wins the consolation prize otherwise known as a steaming bucket of fail.” His words may sting but the wink he sends her lets her know that he’s just playing his part in their own little op.

They decided it could be fun deceiving their coworkers about their newly defined relationship. And of course the competitiveness inside them lit up at the idea of a bet as to who would discover what was really going on between them first.

The detective was a bit surprised that his partner chose Eric, he on the other hand chose Callen. Even though he’s barely had a conversation with the man there was something about his quite and questioning demeanor that told him the team leader would find them out first.

••••

As the day progresses the best friends are sent to the house that belongs to Vakar’s ex-wife. This is sort of their first test as a pair of undercover operators. It’s both exciting and frightening all at the same time. Experiencing something new with the most important person in your world is one thing but experiencing two new changes might be a challenge. A challenge that they’re both ready to face head on.

Stepping onto the sidewalk, the pair make their way towards the house as the blaring alarm sounds over and over again. “What do you know about alarms?”

“Do you not remember my stint with Robbery Division?”

“Right, it was around the same time I was taking the Counter Surveillance course at Quantico.”

“You mean the time you were always one upping me during our daily phone calls?”

She taps her knuckles on the wood frame door before turning to her boyfriend, studying the look in his eyes. “I’m not a one upper.”

“Not normally, but some how just with me.”

“Well I vaguely remember you one upping me this morning.”

His heart flutters as the spark shines in her mismatched orbs. The past 36 hours has been like a whole new experience with her in so many beautifully amazing ways. “Oh, touché.”

••••

As they step inside his apartment at the end of a long first day, the words she had spoken to Emma a few hours ago plays back in her mind. If this man loves you as much as you love him, its not gonna matter. It’ll bring you closer. She’s put off telling him for long enough and now that they’re together, she doesn’t want to keep anything from. Especially this. “There’s something I need to tell you.”

He takes hold of her hand, pulling her body into his before pressing a hungry kiss to her soft lips. A kiss that he’s been craving all day. “You’re not breaking up with me, are you?”

“What? No, never!” She quickly pulls back, shaking her head profusely.

“Good to know.”

The cocky grin thats curls at his lips makes her legs turn to jelly. Luckily his arms are wrapped around her waist, giving her much needed support. Taking a deep breath, she searches his eyes hoping that what she’s about to tell him won’t make him shut down.

He watches as her beautiful mismatched orbs swim with what he thinks is turmoil. There’s not a doubt in his mind that whatever she has to say isn’t something they can’t work through. He leans forward, placing his lips on hers reassuring her once more. “Kens, what is it?”

“It’s about Jack.”

His brow furrows in confusion. That is definitely the furthest thing he thought they would be talking about tonight. “What about him?”

“When he left...”

“Hey, look at me.” His finger finds the underside of her jaw, tilting her head up. Cerulean blues conveying all the love he has for her with one look. “I love you. Nothing’s gonna change that.”

A small smile spread across her face at his words because in their 20 years of friendship he’s never once lied to her. “I told you that he left because of his PTSD.”

“Yeah.”

“But that’s not the only reason he left.”

“Okay?”

“I guess I didn’t realize or want to truly believe what he was talking about until recently...Marty, he left because of you.”

“Me?”

She nods as a soft teary-eyed smile crosses her lips. Her thumbs finding the small of his back, nervously running back and forth across his sun kissed skin. “Yeah, he uh...right before he left, he told me all these things about how he always felt like he was coming in second place to you. He told me that I light up when you walk into the room and how he wishes that I’d look at him even a fraction of the way I look at you. The last thing he said to me was that I was blind not to see how in love I was with you and how you felt the same.”

His face quickly falls as he pulls back from their embrace, making her heart rate speed up. She wasn’t technically lying when she told him about Jack but she did omit a huge part that affected him as well.

As he walk over to the couch a heavy sigh leaves his lips. He sits down, his face immediately finding the palm of his hands as he tries to gather his thoughts.

Trying to remember what he said a few minutes ago about nothing changing his mind about how much he loves her, she can’t help but nervously bite her bottom lip as she finds her place next to him on the couch. “Will you please say something?”

“Jessica.”

“What?”

“The morning Jack left and you called me, I dropped everything to take care of you. After about a month, she...she uh-came to me and said that I needed to stop lying to myself.”

“Lying to yourself about what?”

“About how I feel about you.” He finally lets himself look at her, unable to get the image of them being together sooner and happier out of his head.

She always had the feeling that the redhead saw through her some how. They got along great, but something had changed in their interactions the last few weeks of her and Marty’s relationship. Now she knows what it was. “Oh.”

“Yeah.”

“When you said she left because you two were in different places you meant-“

“That she was in love with me, but I was clearly in love with you.” He nods, as the corner of his lips lift into a smile.

Her brow furrows, wondering what he was thinking or why he didn’t act on his feelings. “Why didn’t you say anything?”

“Why didn’t you?” He hits her with the same question, knowing that they more than likely have the same answer.

She willingly goes with him as he pulls them back against the couch. Immediately curling into his body for comfort, her legs find their way across his lap and its in that moment that she realizes how seamlessly they’ve fallen into craving each other’s touch all the time. “We really are quiet the pair, aren’t we.”

“That we are.”

It’s few minutes as they sit there in silence before she flashes back to that night. “Wait a second. You came over that night you broke up.”

“I did.”

Her brow furrows, wondering why he wouldn’t want to be alone after ending a year long relationship.

“After Jessica told me that I need to wake up, you called.”

“And you answered.”

A look crosses his face as if shocked that she would think he wouldn’t drop everything for her, no matter what it may be. “Of course I did.”

Tilting her head back, she looks up into his cerulean blues, her fingernails finding the scruff of his jaw. “Did we really miss out on 6 years together?”

They could dwell on what could’ve been but there’s no use in wasting any more of their time on it when they’re together, here and now. He shakes his head, trying to find the right words to say to her. “No, not really. I mean you’ve been the most important thing in my life, that never changed. The only thing’s that’s different now is, I can do this.” His lips find the crook of her neck, working their way towards the lobe of her ear. “And this.” He receives an approving moan as his hand works its way underneath the hem of her shirt and towards her breast.

Her eyes drift close as his lips work their magic and send her body humming with excitement. “Keep talking.”

He suddenly stops his ministrations and briefly pulls back, earning a disapproving moan from his girl.

Her eyes fly open, and is immediately met with a cocky grin. “What? Why’d you stop?”

“You just told me to keep talking. You’re definitely in love with me.”

“Marty.”

“Yeah?”

She shakes her head as her fingers curl around his golden locks, pulling him towards her. “Shut up.”

“And there she is.” His lips find hers as they fall against the couch, skin to skin, they become closer in more ways than one.

#Densi #Densi Fanfic #Kensi Blye #Marty Deeks #AU #Kensi x Deeks #You Can Count On Me #NCIS: LA #NCIS: LA Fanfic

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fandom-blackhole · 3 years

Note

A pansexual horndog , an infp turbuletnt mediator. I use she/her pronouns. I don't know how to describe my character because I feel like my existence makes no sense. I'm shy and anxious, literally struggling with GAD and agoraphobia, yet I love being a center of attention, I can be a show off lmao

I'm sure I'm going to hell because of my dark, edgy humor.

I know it's not really a good think but I think I have something of a 'pick me girl' in me, like I prefer hanging out with the boys™ playing games and stuff. I'm hot-headed and live for drama, always shading people and spilling the tea, but only about ppl that wronged me (we don't stan bullying in this household). However, I believe I can be an actual sweetheart, almost like a mom friend for my closest besties.

My fav colors are black and pink. My fashion style is hard to describe, idk man. Like it's either a sweatpants and an oversized t-shirt kinda situation or a cute lil' skirt with knee-high socks. I always put makeup on tho and I always wear my hair down.

My thoughts tend to be rather grim and dark but at the same time my bedroom is literally princess themed and I collect all things hello kitty.

I don't have any talents or passions. I'm an English language major with minor in business. I am fluent in several languages and currently studying more. I'd like to become a sworn translator or interpreter in the future. I love traveling, been to maaany countries already so I really want to be able to work and travel at the same time.

Sorry babe, I'm really bad at this. I'd love to get matched with one of the Buckets and a Clone boi. I know I omitted the appearance, because, uhhh, me ugly, but you know it lmao.

I ship you with Leia!

I know you are probably disappointed but, please, here me out.

I just picture you and Leia being those cool af gay aunties. You are really beautiful so the Princess would fall for you pretty easily.

She's fiesty and protective and so are you. I'll never stop being thankful for you defending me against nasty anons.

Leia is the biggest social justice warrior just like her momma. I can see you both trying to figure out how to help those in need.

You'd never take any bullshit from no man.

GASLIGHT GATEKEEP GIRLBOSS

bonus: visiting her mom's homeplanet, just you and her, somewhere near a remote lake. Just two baddies being softies, holding each other in their arms.

Sorry for all the typos and errors but I'm having a high fever as I'm writing this. I'm not sure if it's even real or I just started seeing things lool. Also sorry for keeping the ship thingy short, I'd love to write a drabble for you in the future if you like my choice for you.

First off, don’t apologize for typos because I guarantee I will have at least one in my answer for you bb. And second of all THANK YOU for being here and bringing life to my blog and dms with all your thots, I love them all!

Now for your ships, first off of course, I ship you with me lmao buuuuuut,

For the bucket bois I ship you with Paz Vizsla!

First off I wanna say that Paz is going to wake up every morning and just shower you in love and affection, telling you how perfect and beautiful you are and how much he absolutely loves and adores you. Paz will constantly reassure you and if your anxiety starts getting the better of you he will pull you away from everyone and whisper reassuring, comforting things to you and do whatever he can to help you feel better. Now Paz also has a darker sense a humor and I personally think that comes with being a mandalorian, so he will always chuckle at your jokes and will return it with one of his own because he strives to see you smile and laugh as much as he can make possible. Paz would find it cute that you are always chasing drama and loves to sit and listen to you recite all the drama to him and spill the tea lol. You say you don't have any talents, but Paz is always blown away at how many languages you can speak and how you continue to want to learn more. He also loves that that gives him an excuse to take you with him when he travels so that he can have his cute little translator with him at all times. Not to mention that he loves cuddling up with you in the tiny bed that he has on his ship, as well as other things.

For your clone ship, I am going to ship you with Commander Fox!

Ok so I wanna say that the two of you some how meet and start a regular meet up at some random shady bar where the two of you will sit for hours passing back rumors and just drama that you have witnessed since the two of you talked last. This goes on for a while before one morning you wake up early to Fox slowly and carefully trying not to wake you up as he untangles himself from you and your bed. After that the two of you start meeting more regularly and usually at your home. Once the two of you really get close and even start a relationship Fox finally relaxes around you. Fox absolutely loves your dark jokes because it is something he doesn't get to hear often with protecting senators and the chancellor almost everyday. Fox has also always loved the way you dressed, whether it be in comfy clothes or your cute skirts, he doesn't care he just likes the idea of wearing something different everyday rather than just blacks and his armor. Fox also likes to play with your hair at any given chance, and he appreciates that you always have it down because it just means that he has easier access too in, especially in certain situations *wink wink*. Fox would be one to stand up for you in any situation, and he may be pretty emotionally stunted and can't quite get the words out most of the time but the second he knows he loves you he will bluntly tell you because he is a blunt man and will not beat around the bush when it comes to you.

How in the world could I ever be disappointed in being shipped with the best princess and general in the Star Wars galaxy?!?!

Now, everything you wrote? Fucking beautiful I am obsessed and I want to steal Leia away from Han and just hype her up and help her take over and rule the galaxy like she deserves

(And if you wrote more than enough for my ship, but if you wrote me a little drabble with Leia I would die of happiness bb)

(14/20)

#500 followers #ships #paz vizsla x reader #paz x reader #commander fox x reader #fox x reader

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fekst-fucker · 4 years

Note

Idk if you’ve read the PJO series but,, fem creeps with a Demigod S/O? Their godly parent being Hephaestus,,

Uh YES I’ve read PJO I LOVE that series!! Time to go back and reread it all again I have the whole series sittin on my shelf 👀👀

Clockwork

- this is perfect for her

- She has a huge steampunk aesthetic, and although her art focus was mostly in painting, she also liked to make “trash sculptures”, especially out of gears and abandoned machinery parts

- Seeing you actually make something is… fantastic to her

- She has a pretty high tolerance to heat, so if you have a workshop, she has no problem spending hours upon hours in it, watching you work

- This also goes if you happen to be a naturally warm person, Hephaestus also being god of flames and all. She will still cuddle you, no hesitation

- She always digs through garbage heaps or scrap metal piles to find good parts or gears; she knows what’s worth picking out since she’s been spending so much time with you and watching you put stuff together

- Even if you happen to specialize more in metalwork or jewelry making, she’ll bring back good pieces, like lug nuts big enough to make rings out of, or if you’re comfortable with glass, pretty enough bottles that could be made into faux gems

- She begs you EVERYDAY to teach her how to make stuff, despite your protests that you kinda can’t, you just know instinctively know how to do this stuff

- Her newest endeavor is trying to get you to make her a new eye. I don’t know anything about optics, Natalie

Jane the Killer

- She likes to watch you work, though being in the heat for too long stresses her out and irritates her, so she’s much more likely to leave every half hour-ish and come back with snacks and drinks, maybe a new magazine

- Watching you work is very practical to her- she’s a good visual learner and can pick up basic skills like standard welding, fixing and setting electrical wires back into place, maybe an oil change if you specialize with automotive work, all that

- So she’s much more likely to go off and fix her moped or something around the house on her own without bugging you about it, but she’s not stupid, she won’t do something she doesn’t know how to do and will come to you for advice

- She really thinks you should start your own little business, regardless of what you do. Jewelry? Little toys, fixing cars? BUILDING cars? Babe you should start a website, listen I know how to use Wix just give me the go ahead

- It’s a little stressful to start a business, especially right now, so you kind of laugh it off

- Either way, Jane is incredibly supportive, and is always ready to tell you how awesome your newest project is, even if she doesn’t quite know what it is

- This makes it really easy to build little gifts and surprise her with them >:)

Nurse Ann

- If you want to go on the cliche “jewelry maker for a shy beautiful girl” trope… she’s your gal

- Ann has a huge vintage aesthetic, and to match that, lots of vintage jewelry, a lot of which are family heirlooms and broken :(

- When she saw you metalworking, she got really excited and just ran to her room without telling you why she was so giddy

- And comes back with a huge trunk of jewelry and huge eyes and asks “can you please fix it?”

- You don’t have the heart to tell her you don’t feel too comfortable yet fixing older jewelry, especially if your specialty isn’t in jewelry or finer metalworking

- So instead you just tell her “yes” and spend hours pouring over textbooks and articles about vintage metals

- You ARE Hephaestus’ kid, after all, you’re a natural problem solver and love a hands-on challenge

- You might need some help from your family, but you pull through and learn. An entire metalworking technique. In one weekend!

- So you present Ann her completely repaired jewelry, hoping that it’s okay that you put some new twists on some old pieces and reinforced it with newer parts

- And also omit the part where you studied like hell to be able to fix it, because you know she’d kick herself if she knew

- She’s the one who would want you to hand make weddings rings yourself :,)

#also I didn’t want to throw these in there lmfao but. hm. if they were to have godly parents #Jane would be the daughter of Athena #clock would be the daughter of ares #and Ann would be the daughter of uh somnos #right??? god of sleep?#I can’t go check now heehee #nurse Ann x reader #nurse Ann #jane the killer x reader #jane the killer #jane x reader #clockwork x reader #clockwork #natalie oulette #creepypasta x reader

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arigatouiris · 4 years

Text

listen to my heart // midoriya izuku x reader

Author’s Note: I can totally see Izuwu like this? He EXUDES this kinda energy for some reason and I love love love what I see. He’s actually quite hot and idk it just feels right? Tell me what you think? I’d love some comments. :3

Word count: 4186

Pairing: Modern AU! Midoriya Izuku x Bartender! Reader

Warnings: somewhat meta? fluff, two lonely people meet at a bar uwu

You loved to listen.

Your mother told you, a long time ago, that it sometimes takes gentleness and not strength, to break a hard shell.

You believed her words, considering the fact that you barely let people in—too many people had disappointed you in your life, too many people left, friends, lovers, acquaintances; it was hard to carry on until one day you decided to listen instead.

Things turned around. Your mother wouldn’t exactly be happy, but you had also understood that pleasing everyone took more energy that you were capable of conjuring, and it was okay. You were happy, despite the fact that you didn’t have anyone to listen to you. You listened to others—their grieving, their sorrows, their happiness was all yours; and this way, they could stay away from your deep, dark secrets. They were safe where they could not be reached, and you knew you had placed them at a height no one would even bother.

Because of the listening, there was only one profession that came to mind when you thought of a dream job. It wasn’t as if you had made a decision long ago, it was simply a thought that came to you on a random day, which you decided to fulfil.

So, you started to bartend.

Bartending was a boon—it wasn’t your job to listen, but it was expected of you. You were great at making drinks, you were great at attending to people because you were on a high wall, impenetrable. However, there were days when things got a bit too hard, you were more of a giver and that was the worst part about givers, you tend to give more than you have. And in the end, you’ll have absolutely nothing left.

Your life changed, however, when someone who didn’t really like drinking came over to you. Not because he wanted to talk, not because he wanted to drink, but mainly because he wanted to get away from somewhere.

Midoriya Izuku came to you when his life was in absolute shambles, unaware that so was yours.

It was a rather crowded Friday night, and people usually poured into the bar with a large crowd or a couple of friends or their partners. It was unusual to spot someone come on their own, this was reserved for other days when it wasn’t too busy. When you saw the black-haired boy seat himself by the bar, alone, lost in thought—you felt your heart hurt for some strange reason. It was as if he wore every emotion on his face, and his eyes screamed for some sort of release. You weren’t exactly having a great day, so you didn’t attend to him right away. If there was baggage from the other end, you wanted to avoid that. You handed him his drink and focused on bartending.

However, hour after hour, he just sat there—emotionless, checking his phone sometimes, focusing on one cocktail for the entire night, looking rather comfortable with himself. You were confused.

Was he waiting for someone?

Did he have a date who ditched him?

What was his problem?

Why was he not talking to you?

Usually, when people did come alone, they’d approach you. They’d tell you things and you would listen because that’s what you would do. You lend them an ear because there was no one to lend you one, and you told yourself you didn’t mind.

Was he not saying anything because you didn’t seem approachable?

When the clock struck 10:30 p.m., he was still there. His cocktail was empty, but he was checking his phone, emotionlessly, not bothered about the party sounds coming from all around him. Sighing, you walked over to him and leaned by him, offering him a smile.

When he looked up at you, he smiled in return—and suddenly, all the emotionless from his face lifted off, and all you wanted to do was talk. Your eyes widened slightly, sensing a strange aura from this man. You felt like you could talk to him, tell him of your heart and all he’d do is hold your hand and—

—listen.

“Is there a reason you’re alone here on a Friday night?”

He chuckled before smiling sheepishly, “Just wanted to get away from my life for a while.”

You tilted your head a bit, “You’re checking your phone.”

He blinked, “Sorry?”

You giggled, “You’re checking your phone. You haven’t really gotten away from your life if you’re still tethered to your phone.”

He let out a sigh, “Yeah... I can’t seem to completely cut off. But, whatever this semi-getaway is, it’s helping,” He looked up at you, “How’s your evening?”

Your eyes widened, something he noticed. He chuckled and put his phone away.

“No one asks you that much?”

No one actually did. “I’ll admit, you caught me off-guard there. My evening...” You weren’t even sure how to answer that question.

A second later, someone asked for a refill. You turned to the customer before shooting the black-haired male a kind look. He nodded once before smiling warmly at you as if gesturing that it’s okay. You knew already that once you’re done serving that customer, you were going to return to this mystery boy. You turned to the customer who asked for a refill and filled his glass faster than you filled any glass. You chuckled at your own pace before turning to the black-haired man, whose gaze was fixed on your form.

Smiling, you rushed back to him, before asking if he wanted a refill.

“This might not impress you,” He chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck, “I’m a light-weight. I’m talking to you because I’m a bit tipsy.”

Your eyes widened in amusement, “From one cocktail?”

“That’s all it takes.”

You found that cute. There was something strangely endearing about this man, which you wanted to know more about. There was also a nameless familiarity that he omitted, which you were growing to like a lot considering he was someone you just met.

“Sorry, my name is Midoriya Izuku. I forgot to introduce myself there,” He said, sheepishly, as if he were beating himself up for it, “What’s your name?”

“(s/n) (y/n).” You smiled, but before you could ask him a question, like you normally did, he beat you to it.

“So, how long have you worked here?”

You paused a bit, unsure of how to respond to a question directed at you. Normally, people focused on getting their own burdens out of their systems, and here he was, asking you about your evening, about your work, as if he was... preventing you from getting closer.

It strangely reminded you of yourself.

“Two years now. It’s the best job, personally. I love listening to people and I think my drinks are good.”

“I don’t even like alcohol but this drink was just amazing,” Midoriya said, smiling up at you.

A second later, “So tell me about you—”

Both of you said at the same time. Midoriya’s eyes widened and so did yours, which caused both of you to break out laughing.

“I’m really not used to people asking about me,” You let out, shyly, “It’s always the other way around, considering I’m the bartender.”

Midoriya nodded, “I don’t really talk much unless I’m studying something, but it’s usually the same for me. I love listening to people and their stories, but sometimes...”

“Sometimes... It gets hard.” You let out, finishing his sentence.

At then, Midoriya smiled at you—but it wasn’t a happy smile. He smiled as if he were saying he understands your pain, not knowing what it was, but it didn’t matter since he had felt the same. His eyes were focused on yours, and his lips moved almost as if he were about to say something but decided against it at the last minute. You noticed because that’s what you were used to, you notice things about people.

The silence that followed wasn’t uncomfortable, but it wasn’t too welcome either. It formed out of the fact that neither of you knew how to keep a conversation going if the attention wasn’t on themselves, but on another person. Instantly, you discovered that you and Midoriya were both givers and that meant that there was no taking happening here—therefore, the silence grew.

“Are Fridays usually this busy?”

“This is nothing, really,” You were honest, leaning toward where Midoriya was sitting. “Most Fridays are jam packed, the ushers there won’t even get a chance to sit down. And you’re lucky someone isn’t all over you.”

Midoriya chuckled, “All over me?”

You nodded, feeling a bit conscious about pointing this out, “Yeah... Well, you’re attractive and sitting all by yourself. Some cute girl would have come up to you and um... I don’t know, made a move on you or something.”

Midoriya’s eyes were fixed on your form, a cheeky smile dancing on his lips.

“Does that happen a lot?”

You weren’t sure why but you felt nervous. Your hand rushed to the back of your neck and rubbed the nape a bit, cautiously.

“Yeah, I’ve seen it happen a couple of times to cute guys.”

I should stop hitting on him, what the heck am I doing? Izuku chuckled and noticed that his glass was empty. Contemplating on taking another refill, he was about to ask—

“Refill?”

Izuku’s gaze met yours, “Yeah, sure.”

When you picked his glass up and refilling it, you swore you felt his eyes follow your every move. It wasn’t heavy, but it was the kind of attention you’d want from a cute guy—particularly Izuku. He was wearing a plain black shirt, folded till his elbows, and casual trousers that went with it. His hair was disheveled, but there was something so charming about the way he carried himself, it felt unreal.

“I’m not normally...” You heard him say, “I’m not normally this confident.”

You understood where he was coming from. The alcohol lightens your system and any anxiety that was there would only walk out of the door temporarily. You turned to Izuku with a kind smile and handed him his drink.

“I don’t mind this, Midoriya-san.”

“Call me Izuku.”

Your eyes widened, unsure of how to respond. You had just met the man, so you weren’t sure if you were entitled to call him by his first name. Apparently, Izuku had noticed this hesitance and chuckled, running a hand through his hair.

“I know, you just met me, but... I think I’d like the familiarity right now. So, if you don’t mind... I mean, you don’t have to—”

“Izuku-kun.”

You noticed his face turn a beet red at your sudden acclamation, and it was your turn to chuckle. You wondered if this was how he was on normal days, when he wasn’t tipsy. You wondered if Midoriya Izuku was a shy person, who keeps to himself and has a small but closely knit circle of friends. If that was the case, then what was he doing here? Running away from it all?

You couldn’t believe it, but you were so curious, it almost drove you insane.

“I’m very curious...” You let out, “...about you.”

Izuku scrunched his eyebrows in surprise, “About me? I’m nothing special.”

You licked your lips before shrugging, “Maybe I’ll be the judge of that?”

“I, uh...” He didn’t know where to begin. “I had a fight with an ex of mine. Well, she wasn’t really... She wasn’t... We weren’t together together to begin with and I uh...”

You waited patiently when he was trying to string together words. You sensed that there was something more to this story than just what he was telling you, something internal, something he was battling within himself. It wasn’t that he didn’t want you to know, it was the sort of thing that he can’t just tell you in a couple of minutes. It would require days, months, years even to understand.

“She liked me back in high school and I liked her too, but neither of us did anything about it. It got toxic when she started seeing someone in college.”

You nodded, “Did that bother you?”

“Oh, yeah.” Izuku chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck.

“Why?”

“I think I blamed myself for not making a move when I could have. And maybe, I took it out on her for dating someone else because she had moved on in a way and I hadn’t. It sounds unfair, and I understand that it is, but we all feel things sometimes that... that don’t sound too good, right?” He coughed once before taking another sip of his drink, “Or maybe I’m just trying not to be too hard on myself.”

“That’s not the case,” you said, shaking your head, grabbing his attention. “I think you do beat yourself up a lot for it, it’s the alcohol that’s making you take it easy for a bit.”

“I should thank you then.” Izuku said, looking at you admiringly.

“No, no. I understand where you’re coming from and... don’t thank me—”

“I should because no one really listens to me, you know? I don’t have the innate nature of sharing things because I do the listening. I’m that friend you pour your heart to because... because you need that friend, right?”

“I know. Trust me, I—”

“Who’s that friend for you, (y/n)-chan?”

Your heart skipped at beat when he addressed you by your first name and stared right into your eyes. Your mouth opened a bit but you closed it right before knowing you had nothing to say to that. You had no such friend because you were that friend. You were the giver. The same as he was.

“My mother told me a long time ago,” You began, unsure of why, “That it takes gentleness and not strength to break a hard shell.”

“That sounds about right. Your mom knew what she was talking about.”

“I... I never agreed with her.” You said, sheepishly.

Your eyes were suddenly glued to Izuku’s free hand, placed on the table. Your hand was not too far from his, and the urge to link your fingers to his was strong. You weren’t even drunk to feel this way.

“How come?”

“People aren’t kind, Izuku-kun. I listen and listen because I don’t have the strength to share. I give my ear because I can’t, for the life of me, give my heart.”

Izuku saw through you what you didn’t want people to see. He wasn’t sure if it was the alcohol or if it was you in all your genuineness, but there it was—bright as day. You tried to seem unreachable, but the wall of your impregnability was built of bricks in the form of your weaknesses. It was quite literally the same thing he was doing, had been doing all along.

His gaze shot to your hand a few inches away from his. A sudden burst of confidence danced in his heart as he inched his fingers toward your tips and grazed them cautiously. You felt as if the tips of your fingers were on fire; just before you could look up at him and dive in,

“Hey, I need a refill!”

The both of you were broken from your reverie—the chemistry not lost, but temporarily forgotten. You scrambled toward the customer before Izuku pulled his hand away, a soft smile plastered on his lips. He watched you as you swiftly started pouring drinks down one after the other for the group that had now approached you—your smiles so natural yet guarded, your eyes bright yet passive. It was as if he was meeting his own reflection, but the urge to help you, the urge to listen were constantly at war with his own urge to share with you his entire life.

Your promising aroma was not a reminder of a long-lost boyhood or the instigator of adolescent lust. No, for Izuku, the sight of your exotic profile filling refilling a drunk group’s drinks was a sign, a resounding 'yes' to the age-old questions of the divine. Yes, there was a God. Yes, there was life beyond the sleepy valleys of confusing adolescence. Yes, there 'were' undiscovered universes waiting just for him. And one of them was standing right before him, in all your astounding milky ways.

He suddenly wanted to stop drinking because he didn’t want this feeling to be clubbed together with drunkenness. You turned and spotted him looking at you, offering you a smile that could only mean that he wanted to look at nothing but you for the rest of the night—two adults, basking in each other’s glory. No, it was not the alcohol, it cannot be restricted to just intoxication. There was clearly a mysterious, ineffable charm that had bound the two of you. An inherent magic is the only thing that could transform love at first sight into such hungry passion.

After refilling everyone’s drinks, you turned to spot Izuku but only found an empty chair. Your heart dropped, and you looked everywhere to see if you can find that familiar mop of hair anywhere in the bar. A gasp exited your throat when you realized that he had left, money left where his hands used to be. Nothing else, no number, no goodbye, just a wistful memory that you were going to cherish. You wondered if you were even allowed to have such a person in your life, if something so peculiar and sudden can exist? Can something like this even be considered pure?

You shook your head and wandered in your thoughts, alone.

The next Friday, you noticed a bunch of people enter the bar—Izuku with them, this time. Your heart skipped a beat when his eyes fell on you, your need to play it off coolly battling your need to wave at him like a maniac. He was with three other men—strangely attractive ones, but they were here for something. The other three seemed drunk but Izuku was sober.

“Hey,” He greeted you, as his friends took their own seats, asking for their drinks.

You nodded at him with a smile before attending to his friends, offering them drinks. There was a rather abrasive loud blond with them, a red haired individual and one with multi-colored hair as well. The last one was Izuku himself, who you assumed, was the designated driver.

“Designated driver?”

Izuku nodded, noticing his friends falling into their own conversation, “Yeah. I like it this way.”

You nodded before noticing another group enter, before being ushered over to them. Izuku watched you, feeling his heart constrict a bit. He didn’t want to leave you without a bye that night, but he had no choice. The thoughts that entered his head were driving him crazy and he was blaming the alcohol for the incoherence—but, now, taking a look at you again proved to him that it wasn’t just the alcohol. And if it wasn’t just the alcohol...

...then maybe, maybe, you had felt the same?

However, he wondered if he had ruined his chances by leaving so abruptly that night. He wondered if by leaving without a goodbye had made you feel like he was trespassing, while in all actuality, he was more than willing to stay. After serving the group, you returned to Izuku, who seemed to be looking at you, yet lost in thought. You snapped your fingers in front of his face, breaking his reverie, causing a dark blush to streak across his features, causing you to giggle.

“You alright?”

You noticed how quiet he was and you were right the last time about Izuku being a quiet person when sober. You liked that about him, and his shyness just added to his charm. Not to mention, he was very, very attractive. He wore a casual white tee with a black shirt over it, and jeans—his hair still disheveled.

“About last week—”

“Don’t worry about it. People always live cash on the table when they leave.”

Izuku’s heart fell at your words. That’s not what he was apologizing for.

“N-No, I...” He sighed, running a hand through his hair, “(y/n)-san, I... I didn’t want to leave like that, trust me—”

“Then... Why did you?”

Izuku looked at you this time, the both of you being the only sober people around yourselves at the moment.

“Because something about you felt like forever and I was scared.”

Your eyes widened. Before you could say anything, Izuku intervened.

“You don’t have to say anything, please. I know what I said makes you flustered. I was just... I thought it was the alcohol so I left so suddenly back then and I...”

“Was it...” You couldn’t hear yourself, “Was it just the alcohol?”

Izuku met your gaze after a few seconds.

“I don’t think so.”

Right away, Izuku’s friends poured in to ask for more drinks, and you were caught in a wave of serving drinks again. Izuku kept his distance from you after that, you weren’t sure on how to approach him either—the feeling is clearly mutual, but you weren’t sure if he knew that. Did you want him to know? Did it matter? Soon, the bar was about to close and you noticed Izuku was about to leave too. Since he was the designated driver, there was no way he could come to you and offer an explanation.

The ball was, all actuality, in your court now.

His friends headed out the bar, not making too much of a fuss, and you watched as Izuku turned around and waved at you. Your heart gave in, seeing him leave, wondering if this would forever remain a ‘what if’ if you don’t chase after him now. Real life worked differently, there were no such things as spontaneity that could lead to something real. You sighed when he left the bar, and you were at least grateful that you didn’t have to close up. Packing your things, you got ready to head out and just as you stepped out and were about to book a cab,

“(y/n)-chan!” A voice screamed from a distance.

Your eyes widened and you spotted Izuku, no friends around him, and you paused, your entire thought process numbing at the sight of him.

“Midoriya-san?”

“Call me,” He panted, “Izuku.”

You giggled before he composed himself, “What’s going on? I thought you left?”

“I came back.” He said. For you.

“And your friends?”

“Kirishima-kun wasn’t too drunk so I caught them a cab. They’re all headed to his house now so I don’t have to worry.”

You nodded as if you knew who he was talking about. Unlike in the bar, under the moonlight, Izuku looked more breathtaking. He was smiling, sober, eyes glued to your form, and you couldn’t be happier. You wanted to hold him so bad and wanted to be held by him even more.

“I can’t explain this, but maybe, I want to share things with you because I can’t be happy just listening. And I know it’s the same with you, too. Last week, I saw you and spoke to you for the first time. It was like an earthquake; everything in me was overturned, the graves of my heart were opened and my own nature was strange to me,”

He stepped closer and was only a few inches away from you. He took your hands in his, feeling the same rush of electricity that you felt a week ago when his fingers brushed against yours. “Now that I met you, I...”

He looked at you, black meeting (e/c), “Now that I know you, it seems like I’ve always been waiting to love you.”

You gulped, listening to him.

And strangely, your mothers words screamed in your heart. Izuku’s gentle fingers grasping yours, his gentle gaze burning the ice around your soul—it truly does take gentleness to break a hard shell.

You pushed yourself forward and kissed him squarely on the lips, holding his face like your life depended on it. Maybe it did, he was someone you’d just met, but it felt like he fit in all the right places, every crevice seemed like it made sense—Izuku didn’t even have to try to love you or make you see that you wanted love yourself; Izuku had to breathe and you would follow because you knew he was doing the same.

He kissed you back fervently, his hands holding your waist softly, almost as if he was scared to break you. Right then, he was listening to the sound of your heart, as no one had, and in those few seconds he had guaranteed to you that he would not leave or break your heart as others had. You had raised your walls up high only for him to jump over them—and he had, effortlessly.

When you pulled away, you didn’t stop touching his face.

“I love to listen, Izuku-kun,” Your voice merely a whisper, “But fuck, I love, love, love having you listen to me for a change.”

His forehead touched yours and a chuckle escaped his lips.

“It’s so not romantic to say ditto, is it?”

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neighborhood-merc · 4 years

Text

Guys !!! I am back! First of all, I hope all of y’all (your friends, family, pets! too) are doing alright. Keep safe! Wash your hands! Don’t go out if not necessary! Kisses! Kisses! Kisses! Alright, alright, let’s do this shall we? Same shit applies. [Here is Part 1 & 2 btw ]

The themes of the stories on this list varies, I’m either into something heart-warming, fluffy, domestic that sort of stuff or into some really really heavy and dark messed up ones. (READ THE TAGS) It always depends on the mood am I right? *wink wink*

It’s always gonna be smutty though lol

As long as it’s tastefully written, whatever kinky shit, I can be into it, I don’t judge the writer (they give us free content y’all, who are we to judge??) With that being said if I add something straight up messed up here now/or in the future, don’t come for meh, just mind the tags of the fic, for your own discretion if anything.

this list should be Wade Wilson/Peter Parker - Spiderman/Deadpool pairing only. I kinda like my babies greedy/possessive for/of each other.

READ THE TAGS.

I don’t care who tops or bottoms. ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

Summaries are taken directly from the fanfic’s summary.

Read the tags first!

Deluge (this is such a good boi, this fic is a good boy!) Weapon X chose Wade Wilson because of several factors in his life. He was a preternatural. He had extraordinary abilities that could be expanded upon. The cancer just made him desperate enough to agree to whatever they wanted to do with him.They didn't just turn him immortal. They destroyed his very soul, tearing him apart and shaping him into something new and never seen before. They took everything he had been and left him with ashes and bones. Soulless.He killed his creators and went on with his life.Then he met Spider-Man.Things started to change.Something inside him, something that had come out of the ashes and was a nightmarish, terrible thing, sat up and took notice. An intense, single-minded notice.

The Perks of Working Third Shift An AU in which Wade is wandering the globe and ends up in NYC where he meets the absolute most perfect man he's ever seen who's working third shift at a quick mart. Even better, the man seems happy to flirt back. Wade makes it his mission to score a date.Peter stopped dating a long time ago, but Wade's flirtations, energetic attitude, and hilarious comments make it hard for Peter not to enjoy the attention. But will all of that be ruined if Wade finds out his secret?

Better Like This (Listen, NotEvenCloseToStraight’s Spideypool works are amazing, read all of em, honestly just check out ALL the works of the writers on my list because if I list everything, this is gonna be a long ass list) No one knows Spider-Man is an Omega. Not the newspapers, not the NYPD, and certainly not the overly loud, definitely obnoxious, sort-of-a-good-guy, completely Alpha, Deadpool. And Peter would like it to stay that way. But when he drops into an unexpected heat, Deadpool is the only person he can call to help, and how quickly the Alpha switches from shouting dirty innuendos to whispering comforting things really throws Peter for a loop. After sharing a heat, Peter is convinced that Wade is his Alpha, and is ready to take him as his mate, but Wade rejects him. Wade knows that a man like him wouldn’t make anyone a good mate, much less a perfect, pretty Omega like Peter. So he says no, pushes the Omega away and unable to even work together anymore, they go their separate ways. Peter is devastated, heartbroken, seeking comfort in the arms of another Alpha, and all Wade can do is watch from a distance, and keep telling himself that he is doing the right thing, sparing Peter a life of disappointment and pain. Peter deserves better than him as a Mate, and one day Peter will understand. It’s Better This Way. But is it really?(Peter is Andrew Garfield)

Use Me Peter wants to help Wade. Wants to make him feel beautiful, wants to make him feel wanted... Wants to put out the fire in his own gut whenever he sees the merc for what he really is. He does.

Double Mint Gum Wade decides that only one of his fine-ass self just isn't enough

Spider Spidey (SPIDERY SPIDEY!)

Bleed the Water Red Peter and Deadpool are held captive by a super-villain that has an inclination for torture. After she boasts her untarnished record at never having hurt a child or teenager, Peter is forced to break the truth to both her and Deadpool.“Did you know I have a perfect record?” The villain collects a rusted pocket knife, tracing it up Peter’s arm, over his shoulders, down to his collarbone, as though considering where to cut. Peter focuses on controlling his breathing, fear twisting awfully in his belly. “You may look down on me, Mr. Spider-Man, but for all the righteous suffering I inflict, I’ve never hurt a child. Not once.”“Y'know, I don’t think you do,” Peter blurts. At his words, Deadpool's stare intensifies. “Have a perfect, non-child harming record, that is.”

Don’t Keep Me Waiting Peter's 90% sure Wade likes him. Or at least he was sure. When you almost jerk off in front of the friend you're definitely not pathetically pining for and they never mention it again, it makes you doubt yourself. Peter knows he should probably just ask what the fuck is going on, but where's the angsty fun in that?

Sometimes When We Touch Peter answers a Craigslist ad for someone who is willing to pay for some unspecified physical contact/sex because he's just that broke. He's surprised to find out Wade Wilson is the one who posted the ad, but thinks he can still manage just fine even when the man explains he'd like him to wear a special costume for the occasion. Of course things become a little more complicated when Wade reveals the outfit he's chosen: a shockingly accurate Spider-Man suit

Sunflower 26 and standing at the head of Parker Industries, Peter feels young in every way. He doesn't know himself, he lacks a lot of experience, and he's struggling to get a grip on what he thinks of the merc with the mouth, an absolute force who has starting pushing his desires in a direction that terrifies him.He desperately tries to come to terms with sexuality, even when it means dragging Wade flat on his face.Takes place after the dance scene in Spider-man/Deadpool, with important plot details omitted. Follows these two through extreme character growth.

Two Thirds of a Whole (I honestly felt weird about this one, but eh, maybe someone who’s into it would appreciate it) Peter Parker and Wade Wilson, finding Vanessa dead and having never met, assume the second body is their other soulmate. When they meet in a market ten years later, they both have a chance they never thought they would get again-- a chance at love.But can they find a way to be happy as two thirds of a whole?

Holding Back The thing about not being able to die is that it makes everything so dreadfully boring. Seriously, immortality's a bitch. So, you gotta keep things interesting. How else are you supposed to get through the day without going insane? Well, more insane.Wade wants to be a hero, but fighting bad guys isn't enough to keep things interesting. Wooing Spider-Man might help, though. And exploring his kinks definitely will. Of course, he never thought anything would come of either of these things. Boy, was he wrong!

Missed You (Imagine me covering me shyly covering my face for this ehehe) “Wade,” Peter whines, pulling off Wade’s mask and catching his lips in a deep kiss. All he can smell is leather and sweat and gunpowder, and he’s already embarrassingly hard. Wade comes home from a mission. Peter missed him. A lot.

Big Peter can't stop looking at and thinking about Wade's great big arms and shoulders and hands and back. He's fine. (He's not fine.)

Slip of the Tongue Sometimes Peter can forget how big Wade is, how much presence he has. Right now is not the time. His heart rabbits in his chest as he swallows, looking up. There’s always something there when Wade’s looking at him, something predatory, that makes Peter nervous and wanting, shivering hot all over.

Wade The Cat “Aw don’t be afraid little buddy, it’s okay, he’s gone”Wade almost cringes at how someone is talking to him, what the hell?! He’s not a defenseless animal. Wait. No, yeah, he is.Wade looks a little alarmed, stepping back as the man crouches next to him, smiling sympathetically “It’s okay, I won’t hurt you. You okay?”Wade holds his breath, gives an once over at the guy, beautiful chestnut eyes, the adorable smile, the red face probably resulting from the cold and the brown humid hair stuck to his forehead as he holds his umbrella for both of them and yep, ladies and gentlemen if he wasn’t before, Wade is right now a defenseless animal because “Meow” Wade says wiggling what should be eyebrows “Honey, I’d let you take care of me all night long” Wade purrs.

Gonzo Journalist (It belongs to a series “We fell in love in October) A young photographer working for The Daily Bugle hears about the tragic fate of an ex-soldier and decides to write an article about his cause to help him out. Maybe more than in one way.

The Man in the Mask When Wade is unceremoniously dropped off into the custody of one Dr. Parker, he assumes the man has only the worst possible intentions for one of the world's last remaining mutants. But it turns out, the universe still holds plenty of surprises for them both.

You Wear My Name Over Your Heart Like It’s Invisible "Why don’t you ever let me see it? If you have the name already, why can’t you tell me whose it is? I thought we were best friends."Everyone gets their Name when they turn twenty-one. It isn’t their own name either. It’s the name of their Soulmate. When Wade Wilson wakes on his twenty-first birthday, he looks down at his chest and sees Peter Benjamin Parker. He stares for a moment then shrugs, gets dressed, and doesn’t think about it for another six weeks.

Parachute, Please Peter unexpectedly goes into heat after an Avengers mission, which could have been fine, but the ride back is 2 hours and he's stuck on a plane with his closest friends and family.At least there's one person he can call at times like these for relief. And in comes Wade.

Peter Parker’s Home for the Wayward Villain A really long redemption story.

And Words Are Futile Devices Peter doesn’t think he’s lonely. He’s too busy to be lonely. He’s twenty-two, working on his PhD and holding down a shitty job at the Daily Bugle, not to mention his nightly extra-curricular activities. He’s too busy for friends, and he’s certainly too busy for romantic interests. And yet, shockingly, apparently everyone in his life thinks he needs to stop being an anti-social recluse and get laid.So Peter enters the wide, wonderful world of online dating. He doesn’t expect to find his soul mate, or even a friend, and he’s definitely not looking for hook ups. He doesn’t know what he’s looking for, really, until one Wade W. Wilson catches his eye and captures his heart with risqué dog pics and a concerning obsession with cannibalistic serial killers.This is a love story. A sweet, inevitable journey towards each other. There is humor, and melancholy, and a touch of both gravitas and levity to the weeks that trickle by. But really it’s just an account of the slow, magnetic movement of Peter towards Wade, and Wade towards Peter.

Strays Wade finds Spider-Man unconscious on a roof top. Score!Or: Spider-Man has lost his memories, some of his vocabulary, and all of his social conditioning. Wade is losing his mind.

The Inverse Deadpool doesn't have to try very hard to hide his second gender anymore because ever since Weapon X, no one in their right mind would ever believe that Wade Wilson was an omega. It doesn't matter anyway, because Wade knows no Alpha would keep a male omega. No alpha WANTS one, much less one that's as scarred and unstable as he is. Apparently, Spiderman was born to break every rule Wade has ever known.

The Body Remembers When the Mind Forgets When people need a mate in their life, it isn't usually because they've forgotten they already have one.

Half Your Age (Plus Seven) In which Deadpool has oddly specific and frustrating morals, Spider-Man has excellent friends, his lab partner has an opening for a bassist, Johnny Storm has the warmest feet, and everyone has had enough of hearing Peter talk about Wade Wilson (except Aunt May: she’s always glad to hear he’s back in town).

#fanfic #fanfiction rec #fanfic req #fanfiction #spideypool fanfic rec #spideypool #Peter Parker/Wade Wilson #spiderman/deadpool #Peter Benjamin Parker #peter parker #spiderman #spider-man #spider man #wade wilson #deadpool #fic rec list #fanficrec

156 notes · View notes

flickityfics · 3 years

Text

Chapter 11 Attacked

A/N:Trigger warning: sexual assault, violence

______________________________________

Sokka woke up feeling relaxed and ready for the day. He'd like to just enjoy the day and sleep in but also wanted to visit Zuko before work. Since it was still early he sat down with his breakfast and got out his letters to read.

"We're glad to hear you're getting along with everyone and staying busy. We miss you Sokka, it sucks that you'll be working longer but we can't wait to see you when we can. Toph says she'd like to know about how your training is going while Aang misses goofing off and making jokes with you. And I miss my big brother as hard as that is for you to believe. I love that you're finally understanding women more, that's a big step for you to acknowledge and you better keep that up, hah. I hope you're taking care of yourself to. Love from all us."

-thegaang

______________________________________

"Hiya Sokka! You better be careful, sometimes they're dangerous people who go to far messing with women. I know first hand how mean girls can be but hey can't make everyone like you so you minding your own business is just fine. I'm doing good on my side just bit of the same old same old maybe a trip to see you is just what I need to cure my bit of boredom. Definitely look into spirits, I really think that's the answer to your mess. Oh, the second letter I enclosed along with this one is of the anatomy diagram you asked for. I hope it helps! Let me know in your next letter. Best of luck to ya."

-Suki

Sokka gave the diagram a quick scan, he's definitely gonna take a better look and write down notes maybe even take up Zuko's advice and write a book to start educating people.

______________________________________

Sokka was glad to have kidnapped Zuko on his day off. They were both at the library together with each their own books, he liked watching how serious the fire prince looked reading.

"Pssst, Lee. Could you teach me more about the fire nation?" Sokka knew they had to be quiet since Zuko was quite paranoid but he genuinely wanted to get to know the other teen better, it probably wasn't the most ideal place for this conversation but there isn't really ever a right time or place when he wanted to talk seriously.

"Why do you wanna know?" Zuko furrowed his brows not getting why Miyuki brought up the fire nation out of the blue.

"We'll, I've never been to the fire nation so I'm curious but we don't have to talk about anything that makes you uncomfortable just.. tell me about food places you like or the festivals you celebrate from back home."

"Okay, let me just find a book real quickly." Sokka watched as Zuko scanned the library until he found a book and walked back towards their table. Zuko was turning pages when he turned the book around and pushed it towards him. He then went on tell him about the fire nations story, how the school system was setup, the locations of various markets to try out, what festivals they had and represent and what foods they served at said festivals. Sokka took in all the information enthusiastically, he also likes seeing a happy Zuko explain all the things he loved about his home and when his uncle would sneak a young Zuko out to have fun.

"It was my favorite sport that uncle got me in- hey are you listening?" Zuko asked nervously not sure if he lost Miyuki at some point and didn't notice.

Sokka loved the blush that crept on zuko's cheeks, "heh no, I just liked seeing you talking about something that puts a smile on your face." And he wasn't lying, this was a whole new part of Zuko expressing himself and there was so much to him that he wanted to know them all.

"Oh, I was worried I bored you there. Maybe I'll tell you more another time since you gotta head to work now."

"Would like that a lot, hey you wanna walk me to work?" Questioned Sokka.

"Sure." Zuko agreed.

"Let me just grab a book then we can head out." He scanned the rows until he found one called, 'Spirits and their Legends' it seemed pretty helpful.

The two walked out the library passing the lively streets of the city. They watched on as kids played around, an older couple fighting, and shoppers haggling with vendors. The silence was comfortable between them and Sokka had a strange urge to get even closer to Zuko's side.

"So, tell me more about yourself to." Zuko likes that Miyuki asks about himself be he'd also like to know more about her to.

"Mmm, well I learned how to fish at a young age. I sadly grew up to fast, hah in some ways anyway. I mean I had to grow up fast when my mom had died and my father left for the war so I just had my grandma whose quite fragile so I kinda had to teach myself things early on and I never asked anyone for help so it was especially harder." Sokka felt bad to omit quite a bit but he knew his current situation was tough to work around. "I did have fun though, goofed around and lazed about often. I had so many adventures traveling here even if it was by sad means, being driven from my home but I guess you gotta keep strong and find the happy moments or even create them." He looked to Zuko, he never talked like this, not to anyone.

"How were your adventures?" Zuko asked curiously.

"Fun, crazy, dangerous, beautiful and new, it was full of so many things. I want to keep traveling and just pack everything I can learn and see into my head. I got to meet so many people, I keep a journal of everything and everyone I came across, there's so many creatures I wrote about even. Sorry, rambling again. " He apologized.

"I like when you talk like that, it's nice seeing you get so excited and going on tangents or rambles." Zuko grinned down at Miyuki genuinely enjoying everything she had to say.

Sokka slowed down nearing his job and turned to Zuko, "Thanks for walking me and letting me talk your ear off."

"I like our talks especially when you do most of it since I don't talk much. I never really know what to talk about." He admitted.

"That's okay, I get it. Also did you want to try watching the play that starts in two weeks? I forgot what it's about but I heard it's got lots of action."

"Yeah, I heard it's going to be in town for a week, I'll even let uncle know if he doesn't already."

"Great. Alright, I'll get going now. See you tomorrow for training?"

"Come by around one and I'll also teach you more about maps." Zuko waved Miyuki off as he waited until she got through the door into her job safely before heading home himself.

______________________________________

Sokka couldn't believe how rude the parents were when they finally got back home. They could have at least told him earlier that they'd be so late, he would've charged them more while at it. Watching five kids on his own was miserable, he had to react to each one differently he swore he had an identity crisis. And now he was miserably walking in the dead of night and it was so quiet, it was the creepy kind of quiet where it was to dark and to silent. He was walking when he heard fast footsteps, he didn't have time to react when a figure passed him and snatched his bag running off with it.

He quickly found the guy turning into an alley and caught up enough to push him down grabbing his bag back. Before he could yell at the person on the ground he was grabbed from behind and arms trapped tightly into his sides.

"What a nice catch you got us Kota. The boss will definitely be pleased with us and give us tons of yuan for her."

Sokka did not have a good feeling about this situation. He noticed there was only three guys, the one in front that had already gotten up, one on his right and the other who had a hold of him. The one holding him seemed like the guy running things and guessing by his words he had to get out this fast. He hadn't been trained on fighting multiple fighters so this was gonna be tricky. Being limited on time he hoped his planned work fast enough for him to get away.

He stepped on the bigger one holding him and took advantage of being released to push the one on his left into the brick wall and running up the wall himself gripping the corner edge. Before he could pull himself over he felt his ankle being grabbed and the pain of his cheek hitting the concrete edge then falling hard to the floor knocking the air out of him. Before he recovered he felt a punch to his face and one of the men holding him down as he felt another pair of hands holding his legs. All he could do was shake violently and before he could scream he felt hands pressing over his mouth painfully.

"I love when they struggle. I don't think the people we'll be selling you to will mind if I try the goods first, they'll be getting plenty of use from you anyways. At least this way I won't have to pay myself." The disgusting man above him said.

Sokka could only scream in his head for anyone to save him. He felt tears leaking from his eyes as he felt a hand grope his chest and the other sliding up the dress he wore pulling on his underwear. He tried to struggle hard out the men's hold but it was proving fruitless, he was going to be violated. He strained his voice to spill from the man's hands but they were only muffled, all he could hear was their breathing and the rustling of clothes. No one was gonna come by this late or head into a suspicious alley with only a few conspicuous sounds. All he could do was stare up into the night sky as he tried to will his mind away from what was going on when a fast shadow came down fast towards him. It all happened so fast, seeing the butt of a sword hit the temple of the man on top of him and a spray of blood hitting his face and neck when he took notice of the masked man slashing a cut across the one who held his mouth shut. The one at his legs reacted slowly getting flames to the face and screaming his head off before being punched and knocked out. Sokka watched in stunned silence as the masked figure tied up his attackers.

He felt no danger from the man offering his hand, he was going to take it when he noticed his underwear around his ankles. He shut his eyes shamefully pulling them up before looking at the figure above him. He slowly took the hand noting no ill intent.

"Let me take you home." The blue masked figure offered.

Sokka shook his head vigorously in, "no, no please t-take me to the Jasmine Dragon's tea shop, i-its closer anyways."

Zuko who was behind the mask knew that wasn't true but would follow Miyuki's wishes. Zuko wanted to do nothing more than to kill these men now but he needed to keep them for information so he could go after the trafficking ring he discovered few months back.

The two made their walk silently before stopping in front of the tea shops door.

Sokka faced the other man and thanked him, he watched as the other nodded in return and waited until the masked man jumped onto the roof before furiously knocking on the door, he didn't noticed how his knuckles had bled from his frantic knocking.

Iroh opened the door shocked at what he saw and saddened when he took in the appearance of Zuko's friend.

"Can I come in?" Sokka asked in a small cracked voice, his composure breaking.

"Yes." Iroh moved to the side as he watched Miyuki head upstairs, "his room is the first door to the left." He saw her nod hearing him. All he could do was worry until he got answers from Zuko later.

Sokka found himself opening Zuko's door and once inside with his back against the door did he finally break down. He was shaking and breathing so hard to keep from screaming, he couldn't scream like this not when neighbors were nearby or Zuko's uncle next door but it's all he wanted to do right at this moment. Next thing he knew he was wrapped up in arms, he knew this scent. He gripped onto Zuko tight and muffled his cries into Zuko's neck, he couldn't even think straight that he bit between the fire prince's neck and shoulder as he screamed and cried hard digging his nails into Zuko's back.

Zuko rocked Miyuki in his arms, he didn't care about the little pain she dealt him he knew her pain was a lot worse and he'd rather her hurt him than herself. When he heard Miyuki's cries stop did he move her to get a better look. She looked so out of it, he noticed the blood and torn clothes.

"Let me get you a cloth and some clothes." He went to get up when he felt her hand holding his arm, he sensed that she didn't want him to leave. "Let's go to the bathroom and I'll clean you up there." They went into the bathroom where he cleaned her face, neck and knuckles from the blood that splattered when he slashed one of the men. He wished he could take away the violent scene he caused her and just her whole experience entirely.

Going back to his room, he rummaged through his shelves for clothes and passing them to her as he turned around giving her privacy.

"Can you burn these later?" Zuko turned as she spoke and could only clench his fists in anger not knowing what more he could do for her.

"Of course." But whatever it is he could offer he will.

"I'm tired Zuko, I'd like to go to bed." He reached Zuko's hand and Zuko followed her lead. Zuko could only cry silently himself as he heard Miyuki's own cries and shaking body as he held her. He never felt so powerless as this. He held her until they both fell asleep.

#atla #zukka #zuko x sokka #boylove #temporarygenderbend

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samslosthoe · 4 years

Text

jensen’s birth chart PART 2

i’m rolling into this one right after the last one because no one knows when adhd will kick in.

i have two more things i wanna talk about in this chart and one’s gonna be a doozy because we’re gonna have to do some sleuthing, friends. actually, i’m just gonna compare the two signs his moon is in between and we’re gonna see how good i am at reading famous people from afar to figure out if i can claim the right one is his.

jensen’s mars IS imporant and i’m gonna get to it, i swear, but i really wanna tackle this mystery moon before i can focus on anything else.

here’s this beauty again. you see that 2° in sagittarius? that means at 12 noon on march 1st, 1978, the moon had just entered sagittarius. without getting tOo ToO technical, that means it just got there within like an hour or two. so if jensen was ACTUALLY born between 12 AM and about 10 AM, his moon sign is actually in scorpio. and if you know ANYTHING about astrology, you know sagittarius and scorpio are not the same beast.

our moon signs tell us about who a person is on the inside, how their emotions are handled, their outlook on life. sometimes it can be more important than the sun sign (though arguably not in this case because jensen is just throwin those fishy pisces shits everywhere). the moon also tells you how a person sees THEMSELVES, which i would argue is very fucking important.

and jensen is either a cynical-ass scorpio moon or the sickeningly optimistic sagittarius moon. basically, he’s either a stereotypical slytherin or gryffindor on the inside.

now you get why this ackles chart is like my white whale.

so where do we start? the most logical thing i can think of is list out the qualities of both and make an educated guess, and let you do the same. remember, i’m just some weirdo with an affinity for astrology and since we don’t know the right answer (and may never), your ideas are just as valid as mine.

keywords for scorpio moons: sensitive, secretive, mood-swingy, intense, defensive, intuitive, controlling, restrictive.

keywords for sagittarius moons: spontaneous, intellectual, optimistic, knowledge-seeking, teacher, freeing, inflated sense of self, enthusiastic.

now, right off the bat, i’m leaning towards scorpio moon. but here’s the catch: the rest of jensen’s chart can easily explain why he has any of those characteristics, OR it could easily conceal if he was more of a sagittarius moon. let me explain.

scorpio, like i mentioned before, is a water sign, and sagittarius is a fire sign. there’s a HUGE difference between the two elements, which doesn’t take any kind of genius to figure out. water douses fire, right? well this isn’t rock, paper, scissors. if people equate water signs with emotion and feeling, they connect fire signs to energy and movement.

the part that’s so tricky about this being jensen’s moon sign that we’re trying to figure out is that this is a PRIVATE aspect of a personality, rarely shown to acquaintances let alone in a public place. and as my last post as well as our knowledge of him suggested, jensen’s already a very private person and you’re unlikely to know what he’s truly like.

the case for jensen being a scorpio moon, to me, is pretty strong. scorpio in general gets kind of a bad reputation because they can be dramatic and they have a bad side you do NOT want to be on. but that hides the truly kind and sensitive nature of scorpio. it’s plain and simply a defense mechanism, an exoskeleton to protect those squishy bits inside. in the position of the moon, you’re more likely to have someone softer than a scorpio sun. that doesn’t mean they won’t come at you, it just means that it’s less likely.

the sagittarius moon is something i could see for him, too. though i feel like where i get those vibes can easily be misinterpreted to danneel’s influence. she seems far more stereotypically “free spirited” (as “free spirited as a pisces sun can be) than jensen. i also don’t get that “live, laugh, love” kind of positivity from jensen. at all. not saying he comes off as pessimistic, but more like a “it is what it is” kinda dude rather than “there’s a silver lining in everything.” there’s a puppy-like enthusiasm that comes with a sag moon, which again, i don’t associate with him. they’re teachers at heart, which could be something jensen is that we just don’t see a lot of.

honestly, the more i think about it? i think jensen is a scorpio moon. i could be way off, there’s just no way of knowing unless someone calls his mom and asks what time he was born, or we get some real astrologer sharing their reading of his chart. i only have my observations and opinions to go on, here. the concrete information isn’t available.

i’d really love to hear your thoughts on the sagittarius vs scorpio moon debate, so please let me know what you think!

the ascendant/rising sign that i’ve completely omitted because it changes like every two hours would also be a bit of a clue here. your rising sign tends to be described as what you present to the outer world. (i’m willing to bet money it’s another water sign if not absolutely pisces.) in time, it becomes less of a ~thing~ because in general, as we age, we put up less of a front if we become more comfortable with ourselves. i feel like jensen’s shyness has worn off over the years, making me think he has a very guarded rising sign (pisces, scorpio, taurus).

the last thing i have to talk about with jensen is his mars in cancer. i’m pretty sure i covered this in decent detail with jared (as his is the same), so i’m not gonna go too much into it here because i’m pretty brain-burnt from all this. mars is simplified into aggression and action, and cancer is mostly passive aggressive in this spot. throws down when you fuck with their friends, snips and bitches under their breath when you come for them. tenacious AF.

i really half assed that last bit so let me go take an astrology break. i hope you friends enjoyed this. please do ask if you have any questions and again, i’d love to hear your take on this whole muddy moon thing.

#j2 astrology #jensen ackles #jensen ackles birth chart #astrology #spn astrology #jesus i am so tired #i hope this makes sense #i hope yall enjoy

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bedeliainwonderland · 4 years

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I understand disliking a character..but you realize anything that happens to bedelia in context of the show is driven by hannibal, right? the man you ship her with? the stinger, her fear, all that necessitates her self preservation is instigated by hannibal. the show frequently did a disservice to its female chars, but hannibal was the tool they used to do it. denying that and then shipping him w/ your fav only to turn it around on another char seems...hypocritical.

Ahh yes, some good ol’ anon hate, I missed that. Honestly, perfect timing, I am having the worst of times and getting to talk about my favs literally saved my day. So thanks!

First of all, Bedelia and Hannibal are a canon ship, whether you like it or not, so let’s get that out of the way (as opposite to certain other ship but that is a whole other thing). I merely fill in the blanks of what the show failed to provide because, for some inexplicable reason, the show named “Hannibal” was centered on a character named Will and every other character (especially the female characters) served only to further his “man pain”. But I digress, that is surely not why you chose to hide behind that grey square.

I don’t know whether you follow me or just saw that one reblog (which ironically weren’t even my words but I stand fully behind everything said), but I have already spoken about this extensively. Every day, really. I find it hard to understand how something is hypocritical when it is based on canon information. I am not denying anything. So here we go, under the cut, because I have a LOT to say:

The stinger- oh god, you all know how much I hate it. First of all, there is no proof that Hannibal is involved, we don’t know who is involved, that is kinda the point of a cliff hanger. We don’t even know if it’s real. But it’s absolutely pointless and makes no sense! It was quite literally Fuller wanting to do something “shocking” to finish off the series without any regard to continuity or characterisation. It was supposed to be shocking and look aesthetically pleasing, that’s it, no logic. It is as if he looked at the character list and thought “hmm, which female character is yet to be hurt? Oh right, Bedelia!” The so called “punishing Bedelia” as the fandom loved so very much is mere misogyny. Why can’t a female character do something morally questionable or even plain evil and get away with it? Because Will didn’t that is why. If she were a man, no one would scream for “she has it coming”, no, he would be uwu baby.

Having Hannibal involved in that would be completely out of character and contradictory to all their previous interactions/ their relationship. So let’s expand, shall we?

When we first see Bedelia and Hannibal, it is mentioned that she has been his psychiatrist for 7 years. 7 YEARS, let that sink in. No one, NO ONE, has been in Hannibal’s life for such a long time. It is clear she means a lot to him. If she didn’t, he had plenty of chances to kill her. It is established she is a loner, so it would so easy for Hannibal to dispose of her and claim “she left to UK” or something, like he did with his secretary. But he didn’t because he cares for her and she is important to him. He literally says he feels protective of her. Every session, you can see how much he needs her approval and how he hangs on her every word. How hurt he was when she said she wasn’t his friend (and yet he did nothing). How enamoured he is with her. When he comes to bring her dinner in Savoureaux, the dish included roses! Such a romantic.

Hannibal knew Bedelia was similar to him that is why he set up the whole Neil incident; he wanted to make sure she is. Do note that Bedelia wasn’t ever in danger, since Hannibal was there to step in if needed. But here is what I’ve found interesting; Bedelia killed someone, proving Hannibal’s hunch right, but she refused to fully acknowledge that part of herself. And Hannibal let her withdraw, doing nothing (as in not killing her, as I’m sure he had done many times with unsuccessful “candidates”) merely securing her continuous therapy. Because she was more than just another experiment to him.

And Bedelia isn’t so innocent in other aspects as well. She knows, yet she purposely evades the truth while talking to the FBI (“Will could use friends like Hannibal” ha!) under the cover of patient/ doctor confidentiality and even warns Hannibal directly (“they are starting to see your pattern). I have had my fair share of “Bedelia doesn’t care for Hannibal” posts and nothing could be further from the truth. If she hadn’t cared, she would not have done any of that.

But then of course, Hannibal’s game goes one step too far and he gives her the written permission to discuss him with the FBI. This is bad for Bedelia because it puts her under the scrutiny as well and that is not where she wants to be. Bedelia’s self-preservation always comes first (both Bedelia and Hannibal are egocentric by nature). Yet, she still comes to say goodbye to him and he lets her go! The script described Hannibal’s reaction to her words as “imperceivable wound”. “But he then went to kill her!” I hear you say? *Thor’s gif* Did he though? If he wanted to kill her, he would have done it then and there. No, he went to check if she were really gone (again, script) and whether she betrayed him. That was his only concern (betrayal is a big thing with Hannibal), but she didn’t. She even left him a memento. It said it was a memento of friendship, I think it was a “see you later” card.

This is getting super long, so let’s quickly skip to Florence. Bedelia left with Hannibal, knowing exactly who he was. Unlike other (all of them, actually) characters, she did not reject him/ was scared of him. “You let them see you/ I let them see enough” exchange says it all. She is not surprised by him or shocked by what he is; she is merely stating the facts. She has long accepted him in full. They lived together in Florence, openly behind the so called veil, as fake husband and wife, but the wedding rings remained intact even at home (showing how important it was to them, not just a front), displaying a ridiculous amount of domesticity and intimacy. This deserves a whole separate post but I am trying to be brief(er). “But she was scared!” you might shout again, except that she wasn’t. Even if Antipasto purposely played with the ambiguity of her situation for suspense purposes, the following episodes made it clear she was exactly where she wanted to be, from the very start, on her own terms as Hannibal’s equal. We were obviously misled by the promos, they promised us a Bedelia and Hannibal show and what we got was, well, you know… And that is yet another post altogether.

Now to the glorious farewell, boy, do I love to talk about that. Bedelia packs Hannibal’s bags and tells him to leave, and he does! What more, he promises to tell her story. HER STORY. Now, that is a major thing, because Hannibal has never ever done that for anyone. He always turns other people’s stories into his own, manipulating and adjusting accordingly. But with Bedelia, he simply agrees to do it, on her own terms. Not only that, he is visibly impressed and enamoured by her. Again, if he wanted to kill her, he could have just killed her then. He was going to get caught anyway, what is one more murder? All this “he waited until he could eat her” story makes no sense at all, since as it was already mentioned, he knew her for almost a decade, plenty of time to eat her if he wanted to. He lets her go because he wants to. Because he cares for her.

The point I have made several times is that Bedelia is the only person that Hannibal treats as, well, a person! Everyone else is beneath him, meat only if you will, but not her. Even the ever so special (apparently) Will and Abigail aren’t treated as “people”. Bedelia is the only person that Hannibal respects; that is what makes her so special. Not love (even though he obviously loves her), because respect is rarer for Hannibal than love. Sure, he “loves” Will, the same way you love your favourite book. You want to have it and you don’t want anyone else to have it, but you don’t expect the book to return your feelings. Bedelia is Hannibal’s only equal.

The Red Dragon arc was a mess of epic proportions so I don’t even want to get into that. But I do appreciate the acknowledgement of Bedelia’s darker side and now she has become comfortable with it since Florence. Let’s make a few notes so it doesn’t look as if I am purposely omitting things: Hannibal’s letters to Bedelia? Clearly a part of his “telling her story” and helping her cover, plus he was not able to send her proper letters, so that is his way of telling her he thinks of her. Sessions with Will? You can’t really take everything she told him at face value, she is obfuscating after all. Why would she be honest with Will? She wouldn’t be, she was just continuing what Hannibal has started with much better results (slightly too good actually, as proven by Will’s stupid plan). Bedelia wasn’t afraid Hannibal would come after her, because she had no reasons to be. NONE. She was protected by him.

So there you have it, the great many reasons why I am so unapologetic in my shipping. Because it is all there. Thank you for reminding me why I love these two so much! Have a great day, maybe next time you can message me off anon.

(And thanks to all who got to the end of this almost dissertation, this is my testament, I love you all fellow bedannibal fans!)

#bedannibal #bedelia du maurier #hannibal lecter #anonymous #asks #anon hate is great sometimes #reference for future anons

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novantinuum · 5 years

Text

Crack the Paragon, Chapter 9

Fandom: Steven Universe

Rating: General Audiences

Words: 7.2K~

Summary: In another world, he doesn’t have his mother’s sword or shield to hide behind when Bismuth lands her strike. The bubble pops.

Steven falls apart.

Chapter summary: In which a diamond is a girl’s best friend.

You can find the first/previous chapter and AO3 links in the reblogs! (I have to omit them from the original post these days to ensure this will show up in the tags.) If you enjoyed this, I’d greatly appreciate your support through reblogs here, or kudos on AO3 as well.

Chapter warning: There is a fairly in-depth depiction of a dissociative flashback. Nothing I'd consider particularly extreme or deserving of a ratings bump, but I figured it'd be courteous to make a specific warning for it anyways.

Chapter 9: Symmetry

On literally any other day, folding laundry would be relaxing.

There’s something comforting about falling back into predictable rhythms, hands running on automatic through assorted piles of clothes as her thoughts take a wandering vacation. Chores are boring, sure, but compared to the non-stop drive of the rest of her life Connie can at least appreciate how mindless they are. In a world filled with things like honors algebra and violin recitals and sword training, falling into the arms of subconscious repetition every once in a while feels nice, like a much needed mental break from the rest of reality.

The only problem is exactly that: it’s mindless. It doesn’t force her to use an ounce of brainpower. It doesn’t block her thoughts from waltzing down dark alleyways, or taking sharp swerves into territory unknown. It doesn’t distract her from obsessively checking her phone every other minute to see if she’s gotten any new calls or texts.

It doesn’t stop her from worrying about Steven.

Normally steady fingers twitch as she folds a sock inside its proper pair. Her pocket nearly feels like it’s burning. Groaning, she tosses the pair into her suitcase and pulls her phone out. The lock screen illuminates, showcasing a photo of a pretty sunset she took from the hill above the temple. Her mouth tightens. Once again, nothing. Giving in to the distraction, she unlocks her phone and taps to reach his latest message. Tired eyes gloss over his photo and those words for the thousandth time.

Accidentally got separated from gem—

I’ll call later, some kinda scary stuff happened—

Please don’t worry too much.

Well, too late for that. She’s not fooled by his blasé, chipper attitude in this text, or the forced grin of the concerningly pale-faced Steven (one of two! How can he claim he’s fine when he’s literally lost a part of himself??) at the forefront of the photo he sent. No, no. She won’t be convinced until she audibly hears it or can throw her arms around him in person, which is harder said than done when he hasn’t returned her calls and Mom won’t let her take the bus over to his place for the morning because she’s supposed to be “packing.” Ugh. As far as she’s concerned, visiting extended family in India can wait its turn. Something terribly wrong must have happened in Beach City last night, and the suspense of not knowing is nearly suffocating her.

But logically, she knows worrying about it nonstop won’t be of help to her or Steven. He’ll call when he calls. She just hopes it’s before she leaves the country. Her dad's a bit of a tightwad when it comes to the idea of upgrading to international call and text, to her chagrin. If she’s honest, it’s the one part of this trip she dreads— having zero contact with her best friend for a week.

Connie hastily breathes in and out, attempting to forcefully will the stress to dissipate. Let it go. Stop thinking about it. She gently tosses her phone on her bed where she can’t reach it, and pushes herself back into the dependable rhythm of laundry folding.

Licking her chapped lips as she works through the pile of newly clean clothes, she folds the turquoise colored silk choli bodice her mom arranged for a relative to hand weave for her on her last birthday and carefully places it with its matching saree. The decorative border running the length of the saree is embroidered with little flowers and swirls in gold thread. Connie smiles faintly, reverently running her hand across the smooth fabric. She’ll be wearing her typical shorts, overalls, and blouses for most of this trip, but she’s super excited to have the perfect excuse to bring this outfit out of her closet for once. It always makes her feel beautiful, with her hair pinned back and the saree draped around her, but she still can’t help but fear she’s ridiculously overdressed whenever she wears it anywhere outside of family events. A shame. Maybe she’ll build the courage to wear it one day when she goes to Steven’s house for sword practice. She’ll change into her usual training clothes during the practice itself, of course— she can’t risk tearing silk or restricting her movement— but it’d be cool to share a piece of her own family’s culture with him like that. Her cheeks heat up as she imagines his reaction. He’ll probably think it’s pretty. Pearl, too. Her teacher definitely has a flair for artistry, after all.

...but of course, that’s assuming Steven and the Gems are okay.

Her previously giddy thoughts wane like a withering petal. Sitting with her legs criss crossed on her bedroom floor, she hunches over with a heavy sigh, propping her chin into her hands. How long is this morning going to last?

Muffled amidst the cocoon of thick blankets adorning her bed, her phone’s ringer picks that very moment to blare into existence. Her nerves electrify in an instant, though whether that’s more a symptom of surprise or anticipation is anyone’s guess. Chest pounding, she shoots to her feet and scrambles across the room to pick it up. She sighs a breath of relief as her eyes skim over the caller ID. It’s him. And he wants to video chat! Without thinking twice she jabs her thumb against the screen to answer.

A handful of seconds pass as her phone attempts to connect over her family’s spotty wi-fi, heart twisting painfully in her throat as she steels herself for whatever potentially bad update about her friend’s life she’s about to receive, but then—

The video pushes through, and her friend appears on the screen. His hair is notably mussed, (more so than usual, that is), with wild curly locks sticking up from his head at weird angles.

“Mornin’, Connie,” he says, exhaustion evident on his face but besides that, appearing physically well. There’s actually color in his cheeks for one thing, unlike in the photo he sent before dawn.

“Steven!” she exclaims, subconsciously gripping the sides of her phone tighter in the absence of an actual hug. “You’re okay!”

“More or less,” he says in confirmation, the corner of his mouth turning up for a glimmer of a second. His expression quickly becomes tinted in shades of remorse, however, his voice on the brink of cracking. “I’m so sorry I couldn’t call back earlier! My phone died on me, and then I forgot to plug it in, and then I got distracted by a bunch of crazy family stuff, and that’s probably not a good excuse, but—“

She tries to feed him a reassuring smile, pushing down the blatant depth of her worry for his sake.

“Hey, don’t fuss about it. It happens. And anyways, you’re here now, right? So all that doesn’t even matter anymore.”

Her friend deals her a noncommittal shrug in response, and slouches against the rough hewn stone she’s only now noticing in the background. If she has to guess, he’s sitting on the beach, leaning against the sheer cliff walls where they first met almost two years earlier. Interesting, she muses, her brow furrowing. Usually when they do video calls Steven makes a point to stay in his house because he gets better reception there. On top of that, there’s an undeniable melancholy brewing within his eyes that would be amiss to ignore. He’s not even trying to mask it for once, which speaks volumes in and of itself about how heavy a burden it’s become, whatever it is that’s bothering him. Geeze, what on Earth happened over there last night?

“So, your gem,” she starts, edging towards the topic carefully. “Are you still—?”

He shakes his head, seemingly already catching on to what she’s gonna ask. “Nah, we’re together again! Turns out I can still fuse even without without him.”

“Hmm, I—“ Connie pauses, mind fixating for a second on the specific way he referred to his gem half, ascribing an undeniable sense of individuality to him— “well, I’m super glad you figured that out. But I still don’t understand, how can you get separated from your gem in the first place?”

“It’s, uh- a pretty complicated story, fair warning.”

“Pshhh, that’s no problem, I’ve got all morning,” she says, and props her phone against her bedpost so she can continue packing while listening. Freed once more, her hands seek out more unpaired socks to join.

“Only if you’re good with it, then.” The boy sighs deeply as he begins to prepare his words. The infamous drama zone kicking in, he lets his head lull backwards at gravity’s command against the cliffside’s face. She can’t help but cringe at the audible smack of his skull against smooth rock. “Ow!” he whines, immediately jerking forwards again. He rubs the back of his head in clear disbelief, softly laughing at his own folly. “Well, that was a pretty dumb idea.”

“Not gonna disagree,” she says with a giggle, glancing between her clothes and the screen in intervals as she folds. “Now, tell me everything. From the beginning. I still gotta pack, but I’m listening, I promise.”

A soft smile brightens his face, sunlight glinting off his dark brown irises. It’s enough to capture her stare, to make everything else in the world freeze to a stop. Just for one magic moment. Her heart almost flip flops at the gentle way he gazes at her, his eyes filled with a shy reverence that honestly, speaks volumes to his nature as a person. Because while he’s grown undeniably strong as a half-Gem, he’s far more than that. He's kind. He’s sensitive, and caring. So, so caring. More than anything else he tries his hardest to be extra empathetic about the needs of others around him, and she adores this about him, she truly does. Her only wish is that he could be this receptive about his own needs all the time, too. With her firsthand knowledge of the stressful stuff he and the other Gems deal with on a weekly basis, she can’t help but worry sometimes.

He breathes in, chest rising and falling as he prepares to tell his story. “Okay. So it all started yesterday morning when I was playing video games with the Gems…”

______

“—and then that’s when I figured out I could still fuse, right after I texted you. So we did, and- and well, that’s pretty much it,” Steven finishes with a bit of a waver in his voice, absentmindedly twirling his finger around a short curl at the nape of his neck as he adjusts his grip on the phone with his other hand.

With his story more or less complete, barring a few recent occurrences he’s hesitant to speak of right now, he pays careful attention to the minute fluctuations of Connie’s expression as everything he’s told her sinks in.

(He intentionally left out some of the more intimate bits, of course— like softly crying himself to sleep before Dad warped back, or having a near breakdown on the beach, or his conversation with half of himself. Some moments simply aren’t for others to know.)

Her voice wavers as she finally makes to respond. “Wow, that’s… a lot.”

“Yeah. And like, I wanna believe it’s over now, but everyone’s still acting so weird.”

“Mmm, and then there’s everything about your mom, and Pink Diamond…” She balls her hand against her mouth as she mulls over this information, her sobered glance shifting from him to some unspecified point in her bedroom.

And at seeing the subtle aversion of her gaze, he frets for a second. He squirms in the seat of the cold metal chair he’s made his temporary home in, toes curling inwards much like the creeping dread that’s trying to inch its way ever further into his heart, stifling any last hope of peace or calm. Replacing it with fear. Like, what if his real talk is too real? Too honest? What if he’s freaked her out, or overloaded her with the sheer weight of everything that’s happened to him, what if she’ll wanna keep her distance from him because of all this, what if—

“I’m so sorry you have to deal with all this,” she says softly, slashing the cord that’s restraining him within his frantic thoughts.

His shoulders relax, tension fading.

“I- is there anything I can do?” his friend continues. “To help, I mean?”

“Nah, don’t think so. Not right now, at least. Honestly, just having someone to talk to about all this means a lot.” He begins to slowly swing his legs back and forth, and leans against the coffee stained table top. “Normally I’d talk to one of the Gems, but. Well, y’know.”

His friend bobs her head in the affirmative. “Mmm.”

“It’s just…” he begins, pausing with a long sigh as he tries to organize all his jumbled emotions into something remotely explainable. His eyes drift away from his phone, focusing instead on the soft, tantalizing glow of the ice cream freezer across the shop. “I think I almost died, Connie. For real. I was shivering, a-and scared, and cracked, and- and yet they couldn’t stop fighting about whatever happened in the past. I don’t know anything about Pink Diamond, or what terrible things Rose apparently did, but now it’s like… even if they don’t mean to, that’s all they can think about when they look at me?”

Steven groans in exhaustion, slumping forward so the side of his face is pressed against the table. It’s comfy, never mind how dirty the surface probably is. He shifts his phone in his hands so Connie’s image is still parallel to him. “I dunno. I should’ve never popped that bubble in the first place. If I didn’t let Bismuth out, none of this would’ve happened.”

“Steven!” a loud voice calls from across the shop. “Are you gonna buy a donut or what?”

“Whu- huh??”

Startled, he shoots upright in the chair— knowing all too well from the faint thrum dancing under his skin that he’s on the brink of summoning his bubble on sheer impulse— before realizing that no, it’s only Lars, everything’s fine, I’m fine.

The surly teen is slumped against the counter next to Sadie, (who’s counting the money in the cash register on sheer compulsion, as if rifling through it one more time might cause the cash to magically multiply), both employees marinating in the boredom of yet another low traffic mid-September day at the Big Donut. He pauses to catch his breath, in retrospect feeling super silly for his near freak-out. His two favorite donut people have been here this whole time, of course. How he managed to become so sucked in by his call that he forgot is beyond him.

“Are you okay?” he hears Connie ask softly, obvious concern in her voice.

Lars on the other hand, apparently wasn’t finished calling him out.

“You can’t just- loiter here all morning and not buy anything!” he says. Brow threading together in perplexion, he whirls towards his coworker. “Right? Isn’t there a law for that? Sadie, help me out here-!”

She rolls her eyes so far they almost disappear back into her skull. “Oh, leave him alone, he’s fine...” “Yeah, I’m not loitering, I’m having a nice conversation with my friend!” he chimes, holding up his phone screen to them as proof.

“Hi Sadie, Lars,” Connie says.

The young lady behind the register smiles warmly despite the bags under her eyes, and pauses her task to wave to the camera.

Unimpressed, Lars leans his chin against his balled up fist, elbow propped on the counter. His tired eyes narrow into thin slits, exaggerated by the squish of his cheek against his bottom eyelid. “A ‘nice conversation?’ You’ve been sitting there for half an hour rambling about the misfortunes of near death,” he says, deadpan.

“I—“ His eyes grow wide as he combs back through the— now that he thinks about it— admittedly dour mood of everything he’s recently said. “Is that really what it sounded like...?”

Is he just being a killjoy to everyone? He thought it’d be okay to be real about it with his friend for once, since he usually keeps his deeper issues to himself, but perhaps...

“No, just ignore him,” Sadie says as she diligently sorts the coins, cutting in right before his mind can continue its downward spiral.

On the screen, Connie nods in wholehearted support. “It’s just venting, I don’t mind.”

And despite everything else he manages a smile at that, small and thin but filling him with a needed burst of energy all on its own.

“Huh,” Lars mutters, scrutinizing him closely. “Well, whatever it was, dark and brooding is a surprisingly good vibe for you. We’ll make a teenager of you yet.”

Steven blinks in confusion.

“But I already am a teenager,” he says, perhaps a bit more defensively than he ought have.

“Yeah!” chimes his friend over the phone.

“Wait, really? Aren’t you like, nine or somethin’?”

He squirms in his seat upon reference to his inability to physically age, feeling the flush touch his ears. “Uh, actually…”

“Dude, he’s been a teenager,” Sadie says. She stuffs the last of the quarters in their slot and securely shuts the cash register drawer. “He turned fourteen a few weeks ago, don’t you remember?”

“N- no… I just—“ Lars lets out a scoff, shooting her a moody sneer. “Whatever, okay? I don’t have the time or the patience to remember everyone’s birthdays in this dead-end town.”

“Only twenty-nine people even live here year round.”

“So? Your point is?”

“My point is that it’s kinda common courtesy to look up and pay attention to your surroundings every once in a while?”

He turns up his nose. “Ugh, well you know what—“

Steven purses his lips as he watches the two of them devolve into yet another round of petty squabbling. (Why all of these fights lately…? What’s wrong with everyone, what’s in the air?) Suddenly feeling very much like high tailing it out of here, he shifts in his seat. He and Connie share a knowing glance, one that quickly lets him knows they’re on the same page. Originally, he came here to use the store wi-fi since he didn’t want to be at home right now, but he can probably still use it just fine sitting at the table outside. Without any overt announcement of the fact, he stands and makes his way to the door. Lars and Sadie are too caught up in their spat to notice him leave.

Only when the cool breeze greets him outside can he relax. He kicks back in one of the chairs set out front of the store, adjusting his phone in his hand. Gulls call loudly from the boardwalk in their endless search for trashed food. A handful of people he doesn’t recognize— tourists!— splash in the water or play in the sand, a pair of young men holding hands as they cross the public beach. Sunlight is finally breaking through the cloud cover, brilliant blue overtaking dreary grey. He smiles faintly. Despite everything, it truly is a beautiful morning.

“Sorry about all that!” he says to his friend on the line, glancing back at the doors of the Big Donut. “They really are cool people when you got to know ‘em, but they kinda disagree about stuff a lot.”

Connie stifles a laugh, her expression unreadable for a moment. “I know you keep saying they’re probably dating, but I honestly don’t believe you.”

His skin grows clammy all of a sudden.

Don’t… believe...

He's frozen. It’s almost like he’s with Sapphire, trapped again in that old motel room shivering amidst her frost powers. And yet simultaneously he’s not, ‘cause… because he’s burning up, hand clutching at thin air. He’s terrified. He’s completely alone, he’s—

He’s back in the forge.

Bismuth’s there, looming like a reaper above him, arm shapeshifted into some sort of curved saw blade and held aloft. Thick, viscous lava boils angrily in the pool surrounding the platform he’s on, and more than anything it’s a warning, a constant warning, and he’s stupid, he’s so unobservant and stupid, he should have paid heed to it when he came down here in the first place, why didn’t he—

Heat blasts almost violently at him as he shuffles away on hands and feet, scooting backwards on the blistering stone. He heaves for breath amidst his panic. Meanwhile, the channels of hard light running parallel with his veins buzz alongside the rush of adrenaline keeping him alive. Sweat beads on his forehead, sticky and unnaturally cool.

No matter how hard he tries, he’s too weak against her. His shield isn’t strong enough.

He knows this for a fact now, knows that Bismuth can dissipate both it and his bubble with enough force, and that’s a super scary thought but it doesn’t stop the primal instinct pulsing insistently at the back of his mind, pushing him to stand back up, to summon his weapon anyways and try to defend himself. It’s nothing but a lost cause, though.

Now, his only true shield is his words.

“Wait, I’m not my mom!” he cries in desperation, shielding himself with his arms. “I don’t know what she did, but I’m sure she didn’t want to hurt you!”

The stark shadow obscuring the rainbow haired Gem’s eyes grows darker.

“It’s too late,” she spits, preparing to swing her arm down. “I don’t believe you anymore!”

And then with a shallow gasp he’s here again, here at this dingy plastic table sitting under the bright and blue hope of morning, his phone clutched in a vice-like grip. Breath passes through his lips shakily. What the heck was that?? Was his gem feeding him old memories like what happened in his sleep, or something? Whatever it was, he’s genuinely not sure how much time has passed during the vision, a realization which unnerves him. Seemingly not too long, as Connie hasn’t moved to speak yet. Yet still her too-familiar words echo in his mind, pulsing with the thrum of inflamed blood vessels at an open wound, and without the blessing of inhibition he blurts out the first thought that reveals itself.

“That’s fair,” he says, voice cracking. “I probably wouldn’t believe me about a lot of things right now.”

Her brow creases with obvious concern. “Hey... Hey, I didn’t mean that personally. I was just messing around with ya’. You know that, right?”

“I know,” he sighs. “I’m sorry. I guess I just feel... really on edge.” Jittery fingers card through thick curls as his chest softly rumbles in the absurdity of it all. “Geeze, I’m being a real sad sack today, huh?”

“Well, you’ve been through a lot.”

“Yeah, but to be fair ‘near death scenarios’ are pretty much just an occupational hazard at this point. And I’ve handled that fine before, so…”

“Still doesn’t erase the fact that it’s impacted you hard this time,” she says softly, leveling her gaze squarely on him, her intuitive brown eyes disassembling his insecurities and then putting them back together like a puzzle.

He flushes, shrinking where he sits. He pulls his legs up onto the seat, clutching them to his chest. Intuitively he knows she’s right, he knows that all this has messed with him more than the danger of Gem stuff normally does, but he still can’t help but feel… ashamed? That he’s feeling this way in the first place? It’s bizarre. It’s completely dumb, and the more he fixates on it the more dumb it becomes. Eventually he decides he’s not in the right mental state to try and weave a halfway rational response to her and elects to swerve the topic.

“So there’s also another not-great thing that happened,” he begins, hugging his knees. “Should probably mention.”

“Yeah…?”

“Garnet unfused over all this. Maybe for good this time.”

She gasps, and in an instant her face shoots closer on his screen.

“Wait what? She- you mean that Ruby and Sapphire aren’t—“

“Yup.”

Connie covers her mouth in shock, eyes glistening. “Oh, no! Steven, I’m so sorry! And you don’t think they’ll be able to work it out?”

“No, they made it seem pretty permanent.”

“That’s… really rough,” she sighs in solidarity. “‘Cause I mean, at least since it’s fusion she’s still there in spirit, but- you grew up knowing Garnet.”

“Exactly,” he nods. “I love Ruby and Sapphire a whole bunch, but it’s still different, y’know? Like, it’s like I lost someone important to me. Maybe forever. And... it feels so awful,” he says, pushing past the lump in his throat that he wishes more than anything would go away. “All of it. It’s like everyone in my family’s falling apart. The moment she unfused, Sapphire immediately shut herself in her room, and then Ruby was so upset she ran away, and Amethyst and Pearl started yelling at each other about everything, so… I left. And called you,” he explains, gesturing at her. “And now I’m here, chillin’ at the Big Donut. And that’s pretty much it.”

“Gosh...”

“Yeah.”

“Again, I’m sorry you had to deal with all this. I mean, outright getting cleaved from half of yourself? I can’t even imagine…” She bites at her knuckles for a moment, deep in thought. “Makes me wish I had more than sympathy to offer.”

“Nah, just you listening to everything means a whole bunch. I really appreciate that,” he says. “I—“ his voice wavers a bit as he feels the heat of the blush blossoming across his cheeks— “I really appreciate you. A lot. You- you know that, don't you?”

She giggles, the sound a beautiful reassurance to his ears. “Of course I do! And anyways, you always take time to listen to me when I’m down. That’s what jam buds are for, right?”

“Right,” he says, the word reverberating in harmony in the deepest reaches of his heart.

“Steven!” a voice calls from the distance.

Connie’s brow furrows. “Is that…?”

He whips his head around, squinting in the sunlight to catch a clearer glimpse of the figure running towards the edge of the Big Donut’s patio, his long hair rippling behind him. At the sight of family, his eyes light up. He waves his free arm in greeting.

“Dad!”

“Hey, kiddo!” his dad says, crossing the last few steps to the patio chair he’s curled up in. Gasping for breath, he plops himself in the chair adjacent. “I thought I’d find you here. You doin’ better now?”

He makes a half grimace, and shakes his flattened hand in a so-so gesture.

Dad’s hopeful smile fades, quickly replaced with a compassionate sense of understanding that could only come from years of hard earned age and experience. “Yeah. Yeah, I getcha. Seeing people you love fight like that’s never fun. Do you wanna talk about it?”

He presses his mouth into a line as he contemplates. To be honest, after venting about everything to Connie, fixating on negative emotions more is the last thing he wants to do, but he doesn’t wanna be rude to his dad. Thank goodness he has a valid excuse to avoid it altogether!

“Uh, I’m kinda on the phone, here,” he says, showing him his phone screen as proof.

“Oh, by golly, so you are! Hey, Connie. How are you hangin’ in there?”

She flashes a smile. “Hi, Mr. Universe! I’m okay, thanks.”

“Heh, Mr. Universe, huh?” he chuckles softly, scratching at his beard. “Such formalities! You’ve known me for what, how long? Please, you can call me Greg.”

“Thanks, but my mom says I’m not allowed to call grown ups by their first names.”

“Dr. Maheswaran has all sorts of weird mom rules,” Steven chimes in, nodding.

“Hoo boy, do I know about those,” his dad commiserates in a flat tone. He makes a big show out of mulling this over, humming as he taps at his chin. “Well then, don’t think of me as a grown up, but more of a big kid with, erm… slightly bigger responsibilities.”

“Uh, okay!” Connie says, hesitantly glancing between him and Steven. “If it’s alright with you, then, Mr. Greg!”

Dad‘s mouth turns up in a fond smirk, and then he glances back at him. “Anyways, I wanted to let you know that the Gems have cooled down. I had… a bit of a talk with them, let’s say,” he mutters, clear exhaustion betraying his otherwise content demeanor. “Should be fine to go back when you’re ready.”

“Did Ruby return??”

“Nah, she’s still MIA. But Pearl and Amethyst are on the case.”

He sighs, disappointment flooding his heart. He’s not sure why he ever dreamed otherwise. She’ll come back eventually, of course. She’s gotta. According to Garnet, Rubies are very social Gems, which means they prefer sharing in the company of others over being alone. And even when she’s not fused with Sapphire, she’s still a part of his family. He dearly hopes she knows that.

“I hope her and Sapphire will be okay,” he mutters.

“I’m sure they’ll be fine in the end,” he says with a shrug. “They’ve come apart before, after all.”

Connie hums in agreement. “Yeah, sometimes even my parents need some quiet time away from each other. That’s totally normal!”

Dropping his legs to dangle from the chair again, Steven watches an orange spotted butterfly flutter between the beach umbrellas set up on the patio tables, meeting with its other half before both journeying away in the wind. His cheeks lift at their attempts at reassurance, and boy, does it feel so much more natural than frowning pensively.

“D’ya really think so?”

Smiling softly, his dad affectionately musses his hair. “All we can do is wait and see, bud. Wait and see.” He stands to his feet then, grunting as he uses the table’s surface to help push him up. Gaze growing somewhat weary, he peers with purpose towards the far side of the hill. “Anyways, your old man will be over at the car wash, scrubbing soap scum off the floors. Eughh, right? But hey, if you need anything… a hug, an ear, some classic fatherly advice… come and find me, okay? Take it easy this morning.” Grinning, he turns back to wave goodbye to the girl mirrored on the screen. “Nice seeing ‘ya, Connie. Take care.”

“You too!” she waves in return.

And with that farewell his dad begins his casual jaunt down the sidewalk, leaving the two of them alone once more. Except, he supposes that’s not true at all, is it? Even without Connie, even without Dad, or the Gems. Because if he can take away one good thing from this whole messed up experience, just one hopeful message, it’s that he’s never been alone a day of his life. That’s simply the nature of fusion, you see. Even in the darkest, scariest moments...

I’ve never actually been alone, he marvels. I’ve just been me.

______

Once Steven’s dad leaves to scrub down the floors at his car wash, their conversation evolves considerably from its bleak beginnings. Enough about all this Gem stuff, Steven says, what’s new with you? Besides, uh- folding underwear, of course!

Connie laughs, rolling her eyes at the visible blush on his face as she pushes the aforementioned undergarments out of frame. She eagerly shares some of the finer details of her India trip, telling him all about when she’s leaving for the airport, (late this evening, on a red-eye flight across the Atlantic), what area of the country she’s visiting, (Punjab, where some of her extended family lives), and how long she’ll be gone (just a week!). From there, the topic shifts between a variety of themes, ranging anywhere from her anxiety and excitement at starting school again when she gets back, the pride of finally figuring out a challenging song she’s wanted to perfect for a while on her violin, to this super compelling Unfamiliar Familiar fanfic she found where Lisa discovers she’s secretly heir to the throne of the corrupt society she’s always been vying to escape from underneath the authoritative thumb of.

“Wow, this is the story I never knew I always needed so badly in my entire life,” Steven says, brown irises turning starry-eyed in the sunlight. He’s sitting atop the hill now, resting content on his belly in the grass in front of the lighthouse.

“I know, right?? I’ll send you the link,” she promises, dangling her feet in the air behind her as she lays on the carpet.

He pumps his fist in the air triumphantly. “Woo, free infinite books!”

“Well, keep in mind, it’s not finished yet. Apparently it’s supposed to update bi-weekly, but I think the author got a bit boggled down by life stuff recently.”

“Aw, that’s too bad. I hope they’re doin’ okay.”

“Same… But hey,” she says with a soft laugh, “at least it’s a long fic, right?”

“Y’know,” he interjects the current topic suddenly, rising to his knees. “I wonder if I can see your house from here! D’ya think that’s possible, ‘cause I wanna see if that’s possible!”

He switches his camera’s view from front to back, the image of his face replaced by the scenic vista of the cozy beach town below, ridged by the peaceful waters of the Atlantic and Rehoboth Bay. She can see everything, from the gigantic pastry shaped facade atop the Big Donut, to the water tower clear on the other side of the peninsula. Beyond, lush green grasslands— dotted with clusters of small residences, humanity’s touch on the Earth— stretch as far into the horizon as far as a young dreamer can imagine.

Connie picks up her phone from the bedpost she leaned it against and squints at the screen, trying to map out the precise scale of the countryside between them in her mind. “Hmm, probably not. I think my town’s pretty hidden by the surrounding hills.”

“No silly, not from right here, here! I meant, from up here!”

She yelps as the view of Beach City on her phone screen jolts in a burst of sudden, rapid movement, shrinking smaller and smaller as the seconds tick by.

“Steven!! What are you—“

But internally, she finds the answer to this question before she can even finish asking it. Clearly, he jumped into the sky, so… so he’s using his floating ability. Even though she’s never seen him utilize it to leap to this extreme, it’s the only possibility that makes any ounce of sense. Her mouth falls agape at the picturesque view below, the town beginning to looking more and more like a blurred watercolor painting. Distantly, she wonders what it would feel like to be up there with him, her hands clutched tight in his, the wind dancing through her long hair.

"Consarn it! Your house is too small to pick out. Hmm..."

Or even as Stevonnie, can they float too? she wonders. Maybe one day she can ask!

“Oh my gosh, this is just like I’m on the giant slingshot they used to have at Funland,” she says, averting her eyes as her best friend continues his ascent into the shimmering blue sky. She lets slip a slight grimace, finding the stark contrast between the movement on the screen and the still permanence of her bedroom dizzying the more she watches. “And I’m starting to think there’s a reason they shut that ride down…”

“Hey, my floating powers are way better than The Comet,” he chirps playfully, having finally reached the apex of his leap. “Hah, maybe that means I should start my own attraction at Funland!”

“Doing what?” she says, unable to keep from laughing at the absurdity of the very concept. “Bubbling people on the tracks of the rollercoaster like the day we first met? I’m pretty confident that’d be a major health and safety violation.”

“Aww, but those are the best kinds of attractions!”

She hears him grunt with minor exertion, and suddenly the aerial glimpse of the countryside she’s watching on her phone drops out of sight, replaced in an instant with a sweeping panorama of the boundless sky, the line of the horizon with the sea, the ground looming ominously hundreds of feet below. Rinse and repeat, over and over. Everything is spinning, she realizes in alarm, and there’s no end in sight.

“Whoa-oH, it’s the Stevencoaster!” he cries in childish glee as he somersaults.

His lighthearted joy is so contagious she can’t stop the grin stretching wide across her face.

“Careful, you doofus, you’re gonna make me motion sick and I’m not even there,” she giggles breathlessly.

“Nooo! And the Stevencoaster makes everyone toss their cookies! Words truly cannot describe the culinary carnage left in its wake.”

She rolls her eyes in fondness at his antics, and sits up on her carpet. “No, but seriously,” she reaffirms, “that’s making me pretty dizzy.”

“Oh, sorry!”

Soon enough she watches him level out from his spin, his camera focusing for a moment on the ground a hundred feet below his sandaled feet before flipping to show his face once more, framed by wild dark curls. His irises are shimmering an unnatural pink she’s never seen before. It's enough of an unexpected shock that her smile fades, ever so slightly.

“Better?” he says, beaming at her as he continues on his slow descent to Earth.

They’re still pink. And his pupils… She’s not just imagining it, right? She blinks heavily.

“Y- yes, much.”

“Connie? What’s wrong?” he asks, landing upon the grass. His brow furrows.

Even more notably, his eyes are just as normal and brown as they ever were. Connie balls her hand against her chin as she deliberates this. Hmm. Curiouser and curiouser.

She shakes her head, silently mulling over how best to explain this. “Nothing, it’s just… I could’ve sworn your eyes were… different, for a second.”

“Different?” Steven‘s grin stretches so wide he looks like he’s about to burst at any moment. “Eye don’t know what you’re talking about!”

“Well, if you become my pupil I could explain it to you,” she giggles.

“I’m listening,” he chimes eagerly.

“Okay, so honestly it could’ve just been a trick of the light, but… it’s almost like they flashed pink for a second. And your pupils were all funny, kind of, uh- slitted! Like a cat’s.”

“Pink?”

“Yeah.”

His face goes shockingly pale. “Connie, when was this?”

“Just a second ago,” she shrugs. “You were still floating.”

“Floating,” he repeats under his breath, seeming haunted by the very thought.

“Steven?” she calls, a sudden twist in her chest at the sight of his clear distress. “Steven, what’s wrong?”

“I, I—“ he stammers, unable to even meet her glance. “I’m really sorry, but I gotta go. I’ll text you later?”

“Uh- okay. Thanks for calling—“

He hangs up.

“...back,” she finishes softly, shoulders sinking.

She sighs heavily, dropping her phone into her lap and sitting back against her bed frame. What did she say? What could be so scary about the idea of glowing pink eyes to make him react like that? Sure, it’s a bit strange, but it’s no more unusual than any of his other unique abilities. She only hopes she didn’t ruin his good mood all over again by bringing his attention to it.

Her mother knocks on the doorframe outside, signaling her presence.

“Come in,” she mutters glumly.

The door creaks open. Mom steps through, and leans against the wall with her arms crossed, glancing knowingly between her and the phone still clutched like a lifeline in her hands.

“Are you still worried about that boy?” she asks.

Connie can almost hear the capitalization inherent in her tone. 'That Boy.’ Even though she and Steven are just friends, she knows full well who her mother thinks he is to her. (Not that she’d complain if that were the case, but that’s simply not a thing with them, and really that’s fine, she’s fine, their status quo is comfortable how it is—)

“Yeah… I just got off the phone with him," she says, letting her head sink into the folds of the covers trailing off the side of her bed. "It sounds like he’s been through a lot lately.”

“Well, when a child spends all day fighting monsters instead of going to school like he’s supposed to, I can’t say I’m surprised,” her mom says under her breath.

“Mom, come on, this is serious!”

“Yes, sorry, you’re right,” she says wearily, pressing her hand to her temple. “Just because I don’t understand it doesn’t mean that it’s fair of me to say.”

She turns away, and hugs her knees to her chest. Like a storm on a late summer day, her mind brims with so many things she wishes she could admit, so many things that need to be released if she wants to find any peace about this. But how to start? How can she make her mother understand?

“I’ve really been looking forward to this trip, y’know?" Connie says, feeling oh-so vulnerable sitting on the floor just like she always would as a young child, eyes glistening as she calls upon her mother for support. "Really. And I know we gotta leave tonight, but just knowing he’s hurting and I won’t be able to text him at all makes part of me wish… that I could stay here."

Unable to dam it up anymore, a few tears spill over to roll unbridled down her cheek. Her chest quivers uncontrollably as her face screws up and she begins to cry.

"Oh, honey," she breathes, moving to kneel on the floor next to her. She rests her hand on her upper back, gently kneading the stress out of her tense muscles.

"He's always been there for me when I needed someone to talk to, o-or somethin' to feel better," she sniffles, wiping the damp from her eyes and nose. "A- and then- the moment he needs me, I can't be there for him at all, an' it's not fair!"

Upon seeing the trail of snot beginning to drip towards her upper lip, her mother grimaces. She reaches across her for the small square box perched atop her nightstand. "Tissue," she says firmly, passing her the box.

She accepts the gift, pulling one out, and blows her nose hard.

As she's dabbing away, cleaning up the evidence of her tears, Mom's fingers shift to comb through the length of her hair. She twirls through long dark strands and pulls them out of her face. "Even if I don't get all this magic stuff you're both dealing with," she begins, voice brimming with compassion, "believe me, I understand more than most what it feels like to be cut off from the people you love. So... I’ll change your phone plan to international, how’s that? That way, at the very least you’ll still be able to contact him.”

Her eyes light up. “Wow, really?? But that’s super expensive!”

“Says your father,” she scoffs with soft laughter. “We can afford it. And anyways, I’d hate to see you miserable the whole trip.”

“That’ll be perfect!” she says, throwing her arms tight around her mother. And although she can’t see her face, Connie knows from the reassuring solidness of their embrace that every bit of the love she has for her is returned in full. “Thanks, Mom,” she whispers, her anxious heart finally finding a glimmer of peace.

#su #steven universe #connie maheswaran #su fanfic #su fanfiction #crack the paragon #greg universe #lars barriga #sadie miller #priyanka maheswaran #my writing stuff

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jinxfirebolt18902 · 5 years

Text

Lux Vitae Part 2 (Salvatore Brothers Imagine)

Salvatore brohters x sister reader.

Part 1

Words: 1848

—What?! You have to be kidding me Evie. Speak. Now. —Damon’s short temper was beginning to show.

—Please! I am not ready to talk about it yet. I will tell you I promise, just... not today. Let’s not talk about touchy subjects today.

—Says the one who slapped me for dating a girl. —Stefan mocked her.

Her look turned serious —It’s not funny Stefan, she’s not just “a girl” and you know it. —He let out a sigh and nodded negatively. —Are you hungry? —She nodded yes without speaking a word. Just then her system was starting to ask her for some blood.

Two empty bags of blood and a cup of Bourbon after, Evangeline was more than ready to go to bed. It had been a long journal to Mistyc Fall. Plus the emotional encounter with her loved ones, the blood satisfying her hunger and Damon’s fingers running through her black locks got her completely asleep, once again laying on his elder brother’s chest.

The cold sarcastic Salvatore was in a trance. His light blue piercing gaze never left her body, following her movements when his own breaths moved her up and down lightly. In a moment he rested his pink lips against her head and remained that way for long minutes. Of course Stefan had never had such a good oportunity to give his brother a taste of his own medicine but two things stopped him from doing so. One the deadly glare in form of warning Damon was sending him the second he noted his brother was about to talk. And in second place the peace that surrounded the room now they were all together.

Since the beginning the Salvatore family had always been easy to crack. All the men from the family tended to get into heated arguments, fights and it was due to their short tempers. But Mrs. Salvatore was the key to keep them united. She had always been able to calm them down and make up the broken bonds between her husband and her sons. Specially beetween Damon and Giuseppe. As years passed by the little Evangeline had also developed the same talent. Slowly she had become the symbolical happiness of the family. She could even fix her parents’ relationship whenever they had a disagreement. She had earned herself the place to be the sunshine in the darkest times.

Evangeline woke up in a king sized bed with soft covers. She remained laying as she took a deep breath. A gentle smile adorned her angelical face. As she waited for the sleep to entirely leave her body her gaze wondered taking in every detail of the room. She finally felt safe, comforted and loved thanks to her siblings.

—Someone had a good night apparently, huh? —Damon was standing in the doorframe resting his shoulder against it. His arms were crossed and he had a side smirk on his face. She let out a small laugh then stretched her muscles.

—Good morning —her voice was sweet yet raspy for the sleep. Damon thought it was the cutest thing in the world. —Where is Stefan? —at this his eyebrows moved up and down one time accompanied by a heavy sigh.

—He’s with Elena, his girlfriend. —Evie’s content expression dropped to an annoyed one.

—Of course he is.

—Oh c’mon baby sis, you aren’t jealous, are you? —he laughed as he started to walk away down the corridor. —Breakfast is ready!

Evie and Damon had spent the whole morning updating her on the actual Mistyc Fall, their new friends, their new enemies and all the recent events that had taken place. She noticed this Alaric guy was the only one who really understood and cared about the new Damon. A new Damon he had omitted to detail but that she was beginning to discover.

He hadn’t told her about his behaviour so she wasn’t aware of how much he had changed, why he had changed and how he was now. Neither she knew how distanced he and Stefan were now. But she was suspicious about that in particular because she hadn’t forgotten her family issues and if you added their lack of comunication she had witnessed in just a few hours, she thought you had to be really stupid not to notice their damaged relationship.

—So... a lot of shit going on then... —she drowned in her thoughts for a moment to process all the information she just got. She began to put some pieces together. —I wanna meet them.

—Who?

—All of them. Bonnie, Jeremy, Matt, this Caroline souds cool. Oh and I’m dying to meet Alaric!

He puffed some air as he rolled his eyes, he couldn’t believe it. —You will, eventually.

—Oh c’mon D! Invite them to have dinner—That’s not happening Evie.

—Why not?!

—Because most of them wish I was buried alive, Ev. That’s why.

She let out a burst of laughter. —I knew you had screwed shit up. —he gave her a glare. —At least Alaric?

A knock in the door caused Damon to walk there. When he saw who was outside he let his head fall backwards along with a sarcastic laugh. His body moved aside to let the person in. —Alaric, always at the right time.

The history teacher frowned at his words. —Is everything ok?

—Yeah, come in. There’s someone who's dying to meet you. —Damon gave him one of his so usual sarcastic smirks. The human was even more confused increasing his frown. They walked to the living room where she turned her head to look at them with a smiley face. —Did I ever mention you we have a little sister?

Alaric’s eyes went wide. —What?

—Hi, my name is Evangeline Salvatore. Don’t worry, I actually had been missing some years so it’s no surprise they didn’t tell you about me. —she shook their hands.

—Because we thought you were dead, not missing.—Damon couldn’t resist to add. He was kinda mad at her for not looking for them.

Alaric reciproccated the greeting. Right after he sent a look to his vampire friend.

—I’m Alaric. —she smiled bigger.

—Nice to meet you. I, unlike you, have heard a lot about you.

Alaric and Damon took Evangeline for a tour around the town. Everything had changed since she had been there. Obviously. The streets were paved, shops of all sizes took place all aroud and now there was a big modern restaurant in the centre of the small town. the three of them walked in and took a seat at the bar. She was observing everyone around her when a piece of the conversation her companions were having caught her attention.

—Women mess with your head, mate. Don’t try to understand Jenna, cause you won’t be able to. —the blond took the last sip of his whisky and nodded defeated.

—Well I guess you know pretty much about women, bro. Don’t ya? —she provoked him on purpose earning a glare and a grunt from him.

A couple of hours had passed between chats, drinks and food. Most of the time Damon and Alaric, or Rick as Damon nicknamed his friend, talked and discussed about different subjects while she limited herself to watch the place and take in the activities happening in the Grill. People getting in and out, teens playing pool, the waitress working and cleaning the tables. Suddenly a young boy appeared in front of her. She blinked at her sight. A light brown irises were piercing through hers. The cute boy gave her a pretty smile then proceeded to introduce himself.

—Name’s Thomas. Yours? —he offered her his right hand along with another flirty smirk.

Her gaze checked in her brother’s direction. She remembered her brothers being the classic jealous-protective kind. But Damon had always stood out being more of an overprotective. So she had guessed the years apart hadn’t changed that. In any case it could have gotten worse now having her back after so long. Fortunately Damon wasn’t paying attention right then.

—You can call me Eva. —she smiled back, of course with a mischievous grin. She knew this wouldn’t get too far, even if she wanted and if her siblings allowed it, which wouldn’t happen.

Ten minutes had passed quickly with her in deep conversation with Thomas. Sure enough the boy was pretty interesting and knew how to get a girl, even one like a hundred years old vampire. Thing that isn’t easy to find Evangeline thought. But of course everything comes to an end and so she wasn’t surprised when she felt another person’s shoulder rest against hers. Damon was making his presence notable. He had crossed his arms and flashed the guy a cocky smirk. Classic, Damon. Thomas’ smile fell off, his expression quickly becoming worried. Evangeline rolled her eyes and sighed in frustration.

—Why don’t you get the hell out of here, as far away from my little sister as your ass can take you. —she hitted his shoulder with an spontaneous frown on her face.

—Damon! No need to be rude!

—Of course yes. Now shu shu boy. —Damon waved his hand at the guy as he was a lost dog in the street that he was trying to get rid of. Thomas sent her a glare and slowly walked backwards out of the diner.

—You needn’t do that.

The scowl on her face made his smile grew bigger. Then he slided an arm over her shoulders and pulled her closer to him.

—Oh c’mon baby sis, don’t hate on me.

The younger and the eldest of the Salvatores were sitting chilling out on the couchs of the big living room when Stefan walked in at the evening.

—Look who decided to come back home —she said out loud not even looking up from her phone.

Damon let out a burst of laughter. He was determinated to pay attention to the scene that was about to develope in front of him.

—Oh shut up you baby little girl —Stefan ran at supernatural speed and pounced over her small figure. Soon her shouts interrumpted with giggels were heard all around the house. Stefan was tickling her taking her breath away in delicious laughs. Both brothers had missed her so much it hurt. Her laugh and her voice immediately transported them to when they were all together and their mother was alive. When everything was okay, no vampires in their life, no Katherine bothering inbetween their relationships and no abusive father.

—Stop calling me baby and little you assholes. I’m 169 now.

Damon couldn’t resist himslef. —You’re 19 Evangeline.

She sent him a deadly glare and crossed her arms to add power to her statement. —Yeah but I’ve been 19 for 150 years. So either way, I’m not baby nor little anymore.

—You still are the youngest of us —Stefan smirked cockily and positioned himself next to Damon. She glanced at them biting her bottom lip. She sighed and let out a small laugh to then get closer to them and embrace them in a group hug.

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thefun41 · 6 years

Photo

Next up is Lesbian!Maya This one was definitely a challenge! I’ve drawn Maya a few times but I think this one is the best so far!

I’ll be blabing under the cut but in the meantime look forward to Gay!Klavier (hopefully) on Wednesday!

Edit: I have been informed that this is not the flag currently used. :/ I was wondering why kept seeing a pink one, just not where I was looking.

(Warning : rage and bitching below)

*deep breath* OH BOY! OH GOLLY AHH JEEZ Like DAMN was this a challenge. This took me an entire week!!! Other then Sebastian (because of that jacket) all of the pride requeswts have taken 3 days or less. During those 3 days I research an outfit, make a sketch, normally have a goofy side image to post before it because my brain is hyperactive, obsess over how to pose them and make the final image. Not this time!!! Even though this was an incredible struggle there was a lot that was learned by this… experience.

So let’s break it down.

Struggle #1 : Which flag are we using again? On the Ace Attorney Amino, the requester requested a Lesbian Maya. Here is the issue, in my research I have found a lot of lesbian pride flags and narrowed it down to 2. The lesbian pride flag which is purple one with the black triangle and the battle axe (which was used) and lipstick lesbian, which is this pink one (see above). Now this bodes the question : What’s the difference? Well as far as I can tell, The purple one came first and is generally an umbrella flag for lesbians, while the pink one was made spicifically for a lesbian subculture : lipstick lesbians. There is a stereotype that lesbians are “masculine”, lipstick lesbians are very comfortable with their femininity, in fact very “girly” and seemed to be underrepresented sooooooo they have their own flag and subculture, kinda like the opposite of gay bear that we covered last time. It seems like the Pink flag overtook the purple one in popularity OR whoever made the pink one was just better at marketing, who knows. Now the requested went with “a regular lesbian” so battle ax flag it is. Also battle axes are cool, so there’s that.

Lesson learned : the LGBTQ+ community is waaaaaaay bigger then I thought with subcultures and whatnot. Knowlage is half the battle!

Struggle #2 : Fashion is hard guys. Picking the outfit took at least 2 days, and then I changed it at least a half dozen times. there are 3 issues I had (lists within lists, listception) : Maya’s limited style, using the colour pallette with my messed up, self-restricted viewpoint, and Maya’s age. First Item, off the top of my head, I believe Maya is only seen in 5 outfits, her usual outfit, iris outfit for a moment, a waitress outfit for an hour, a red dress in that one promotional image where the case is super fancy, a white suit outfit thing for soundtrack stuff and a conductor uniform??? Out of the ones I can rememer, mostof thesse are dresses. When debating on weather or not I should put her in a dress I decided no because (as far as I can remember) she’s always ion a dress. and then my brain went nuts with questions.

Why is she always in a dress? is that sexist? It is a problem? What’s wrong with with her always being in a dress? Why do I want to really get her out of a dress? Am I sexist? why do only women were dresses? Is it the hips? Why don”t men wear dresses? Can they? They don’t really have hips so they can’t really wear skirts. Wait a minute men do kinda wear dresses, I mean kilts and kimono’s exist. would the bulge be an issue? Would men emphasize their bulge like women emphasize their breasts? Can men look good in dresses? Can any man look good in a dress? Can I put Edgeworth in a dress and make him look good? I’ve seen a ton of Phoenix in dresses but why not Edgey? … So yeah a lot of useless questions taking up my time for no reason. The point is I purposely designed an outfit with pants … this obviously did not happen. I had this idea of a cozy look in a cute sweater but this leads to the next issue. The issue with this cozy look? It’s too simple.Yes that look is cute but it’s not for me, it’s for the person who requested it. Any it’s entirely possible that this person may have seen the other works from this pride project and the outfits I made for them and then they just get Maya in a sweater? It’s a cute sweater but it didn’t seem fair. A similar issue happened with Phoenix but the solution to that was just to open his shirt and BOOM, extra layers and thus a more complex look. Now maybe the the OG requester wouldn’t mind but I just couldn’t do it, I feel like I needed to give her an outfit with more effort into it. And thuys Maya went back into skirt, now this lead to the third issue : Maya’s age. I found a lot of nice outfits, outfits that would look great on Maya! … When she was a teenager. Now maya is most definitely a full grown women and not a child. Now weather or not I pulled off the 28 year old Maya will be discussed later but nonetheless, all of those cute outfits I found? Out the window. I was so indecisive that I just asked my brother to pick one. Honestly? I really liked what he picked, and I confirmed with my dad that, yes, you can put this outfit on a almost 30 year old. The scarf ended up being omitted in favour of her magatama, otherwise we ended up with the same problem as before, it’s too simple. this time with a few days of work under our belt so there was no way I was going to start over. The solution to this was a nice floral pattern based on a cherry blossom. this makes it more visually simple. I think it looks pretty! After all that work I do like the end result.

Lesson learned : Stop. Over. Thinking. Things. And for the love of god sketch it out. Just looking on google and imagining on the character sometimes will not cut it. If I don’t get it relatively quickly, doodle, draw and scribble some more.

Struggle #3 : Why can’t I draw women?? I am one?!?! Like seriously, why, it makes no sense. Well actually it does make sense because I am fairly sure I can count the amount of women I’ve drawn with one hand. It’s a simple measure of practice. I was foolish to think that simply drawing human’s would be enough. sadly that is not the case. Men and women are built differently and of course I failed to accommodate… many many times. The amount of times I have modified maya and changed her proportions is unreal. One thing I do all the time is make the abdomen too long and I have no idea why this is. Her face! I have no cluw what went wrong the first dozen times but it just didn’t work! I wish I could explain why but it just didn’t look right. you”ll notice that she doesn’t have lips even though she does in her new design, It’s because I have never been able to draw lips. Ever. Not once. Does she even look like an adult? I can’t even tell anymore. She is a little thicker then her concept art but making her look thinner just didn’t work out. Her arms, I had to hid them since the preportions were all off, the hands were held together in front of her checkl and they were too lanky and there was nothing I could do to make it look good and don’t get me started on her hands please don’t. If I didn’t cut off her legs I would have issues with that too. Her breasts, how on earth do you shade those??? Does not compute. DOES NOT COMPUTE!!! So yeah the struggle is real. The solution? Trial and error. Just keep trying until it looks good. Play with your strengths. A friend of mine told me that she reminder her of Tina from Bob’s Burgers… ok? Sure. So after all that while I do like the end result I also see what can be improved, and sadly we have reached the limits of my skill at this time.

Lessons learned : Practice practice practice. I don’t draw enough women, I need to draw more women. I can’t quite comprehend how cloths fall on the chest area and obviously looking the mirror is not a solution. What is the solution? Drawing naked people. … No seriously. Once I learn proper anatomy and human proportions and how muscles distribute over the body not only will I have a lot easier time drawing these characters I will also be able to figure out how clothing would fall on their bodies and i’ll have a easier time shading. Right now I’m drawing and shading clothing without knowing WHY it’s folding like that or why the light is hitting this area. Of course I’ll be doing this for both men and women because as started before, they are built differently. do you know what I also can’t draw? Children. I am NOT applying this to the kiddies. That’s weird and gross. The kids will have t deal with being freaks. I’m cool with that.

Struggle #04 : Life How did we break 3 fuses at my house while I was at work? Why did it effect half my room upstairs, the computer setup that is downstairs and the WiFi on the main floor when the thing used to blow the fuse was in an upstairs room across the hall. why did no one fix it until the next day? Why just leave it like that? Why did I sleep in until 1 when I’ve been consistently waking up at 9? I had things to do what gives? Why did I accept a split shift the next day when I’m exhausted? Why do I get super stressed out when I set an alarm that I can’t sleep? Why am I spending 3 hours writing this when I never bothered to put this much effort in school work? How have I not punched someone yet?

Lessons learned : Don’t rely on anyone but yourself. Do what you can with the time allowed. Pat yourself on the back for not resorting to violence. How to change fuses. Writing this is very therapeutic. Did you last this long? Who knows! All I do know is that yes this was a struggle but I plan on learning from this. Next up is Gay!Klaver and I’m REALLY looking forward to it!

#ace attorney #maya fey #lesbian #pride 2018 #lesbian!maya #lesbian pride #past me is a dummy but has good intentions

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yutikyis · 6 years

Text

Honest Q&A: Round 6! Table

Hello all! It’s been a while since we were all together. I’m glad everyone was able to join our roundtable today. Hmm… looking over the questions submitted they seem to be… ahh, yes, this were all omitted from the previous questionnaires due to their… darker theme. Well, it seems my editor is looking to expand our readership. Very well, if anyone feels uncomfortable answering these VERY hypotheticals… feel free to pass.

First, a question for myself. Where have you all been? It’s been really hard to track you all down for another sit down lately.

Yuti: “Ah... I’ve been b-busy w-with this and that.

Reri: “Same as I ever been. Huntin’ and screwin’. Ya ain’t seen me then ya either are blessed or cursed I guess.”

Rahya: “Um, same ol’, same ol’. I ain’t been that different. I been goin’ on walks with Grape an’ I found a nice pond! It’s got all kinda fishers in it an’ I saw a frogtoad once!”

Sayo: “My life has passed as normal. I have been exploring the land under the guard of Lord Vachir. I fear he is not overly excited about some of our exploration but he is kind about it.”

Tsukiko: “Ah, Lady Kususha. I am certain he is very kind about it. After all he is not a stupid man, nor a blind one. I have been waiting for new orders from my Master and aiding Kitakage in his missions.” Meichi’a: “Moi? I, of course, have been a shameless louse! Exploring the lands, drinking the finest wine, and just yesterday I spent a night with the most CHA-rming... ah and I’m getting glares again. Ahem. I’ve kept myself occupied.”

Alright, on to our… readers’ questions. <cough> Uh-hmm… let’s get this over with, shall we?

“If you had to kill one person you cared about to save the rest of the world, who would you pick?”

Yuti: “... P-probably myself? I k-know there are arguments to b-be made about t-the needs of the many a-and as a h-healer you n-need to decide these things but... I d-don’t think I could kill someone I c-cared about.”

Reri: “Haw! Like anyone’s surprised at that answer Snowflake. Me? Sure. It ain’t really a choice, is it? They’re gonna die if the world explodes or whatever. I’d just take whoever’s closest. Ain’t a big deal.”

Rahya: “Um... I... I ain’t... I ain’t gonna kill nobody, not even ta save the world. I’d keep on hopin’ an’ prayin’ that things’d work out. Aasifa’s got me belivin’ in luck so... I figure I’d just hold off an’ hope somethin’ good happens!

Sayo: “I... I suppose it would be my duty. I can not say I would... This is really a very unfair question. I... if I had to pick I suppose it would be Lord Vachir or perhaps Lord Benedict. Only because I believe the two of them would most willingly sacrifice themselves to save others! Not because I value them less!”

Tsukiko: “If I was commanded to, of course. My highest priority is satisfying my Master and I can only imagine he would be... displeased.. if the world was destroyed due to inaction. One life is not worth more than many, especially weighed against the feelings of a mere servant.” Meichi’a: “I? I would sacrifice nobody. I have already sacrificed one person I cared about and the world is not worth more than that. Let it burn if it comes to that. Selfish perhaps but I never claimed to be anything but.”

“What is the worst thing you can imagine someone doing?”

Yuti: “Ah... t-that’s a difficult answer. I-if I had to say... it w-would be harming someone’s soul or mind. A b-body is a body a-and can be healed b-but to hurt their mind or their spirit i-is unacceptable.”

Reri: “Hah. Ya really want my answer ta this? Because I got some ideas. So, ya start with some fish hooks... now this works best if the bastard’s a guy... and ya start insertin... ya look kinda green there, fella. Ya want me to stop? Hah! Knew it.

Rahya: “Um... the worst thin’? I ain’t sure. I figure like... blowin’ up the whole world! Like in yer last question! That seems like the worst thin’ cuz everyone lives here, yah? So... where’d ya even live after ya do it? On rocks an’ stuff floatin’ around? Cuz... that seems awful inconvenient. How ya gonna make roads? I ain’t sure chocobirds can fly that far without gettin’ tired and seems kinda mean to ‘em.”

Sayo: “Ah. The worst thing I can imagine is someone shaming another. Shame is a terrible thing indeed. Many would rather endure pain and misery than face shame and dishonor... at least that is what Sire says.”

Tsukiko: “The worst thing one can do is take another. That... is all I can say.”

Meichi’a: “The worst thing one can do? To give up on life. I am afraid I must disagree with the charming silver-haired crumpet. No shame is too great, no pain is unendurable. To live is the greatest gift and to toss it away is far worse than any other. ”

“Do you think death is the worst fate there is?”

Yuti: “No. N-not at all. D-death is sad, true, but it isn’t the end of life, m-merely a transformation. T-to live in eternal a-agony or have your aether d-devoured o-or to be trapped for eternity... t-those all sound much worse.”

Reri: “Gettin’ creative there, Snowflake. I like it. Ya oughta go a bit further. Well, for once, me and the girl agree. Death ain’t so bad. Probably hurts a shiteload but I see things a lot worse than death. Ya don’t hear of folks prayin’ for the sweet relief of death for no reason, yeah?

Rahya: “I... no, it ain’t the worst thing. I’m sure hopin’ not. If’n I gotta be true... I figure death ain’t so bad for the folks who be dyin’. It’s worse for the folks who ain’t dead cuz they ain’t got the person they like ‘round much, yeah? I mean I ain’t wanna be dyin’... but I’m more scareda bein’ hurt awful bad an’ bein’ all alone...”

Sayo: “I must go with the consensus here I am afraid. Death is to be feared but it is not the worst one can imagine. The ancestors have after-lives of peace and comfort after a life of hard work. It does not sound like something to fear if you’ve lived a worthy live.”

Tsukiko:

“Death is certainly by no means the worst thing! Why, I can think of several things quite worse. Enslavement, torture, suffering... many of which some would consider death a release from!”

Meichi’a:

“Alas, once again I must disagree with these charming ladies. All this talk of afterlives and mortal suffering is fine and good, but a life is a life and death is a great mystery. Even if one should survive in some form, it isn’t *life.* No drinking, no dancing and most certainly no carnal nights spent in the comforting embrace of a lover. Life is the greatest gift we have.

“Would you rather know the date of your death or the cause of your death?”

Yuti: “A-ah... t-that’s tough. Probably the d-date. The c-cause might make me tempted to t-try to avoid it but if I know anything from stories t-that would make me c-cause it! P-plus if I knew the date I’d h-have time to set my affairs in order a-and make sure I’m not leaving anything undone..”

Reri: “Hells below Snowflake can’t you even die in an interestin’ way? I agree on the Date though... but not for the reasons ya think. If I know when I’m gonna die then I’m godsdamn sure I ain’t gonna die BEFORE that. Gives me more freedom ta do shite.”

Rahya: “Um... I figure I’d wanna know the date cuz... if I know I’m gonna die because a rock falls on my head or somethin’ then I’m gonna spend all day bein’ scareda rocks? An’ that doesn’t sound real fun. But if I know I’m gonna go poof then I can just not be afraida stuff until then, yeah? Cuz... Aasifa’s already like than an’ he seems happy.”

Sayo: “I must disagree. Knowing the date of one’s demise is... not what I would want. It feels... restrictive. The cause would be better I think. I do not fear the day I meet my ancestors but I do not want it lingering over my head.”

Tsukiko: “ Ah! But Mistress Kususha! What if you are told that you would tortured to death over a period of many days! That would hang over your head far worse! Or if you were told you would be blinded and starve to death on a desert island or...” Rahya: “Um could ya maybe please stop? I ain’t wantin’ ta hear alla that...”

Tsukiko: “Oh, a thousand pardons, Mistress Miqo’te. I meant to no offense, none at all! I certainly wasn’t *intending* to frighten you with your ignorance and shortsightedness.” Rahya: “Aw shucks, thank ya!” Tsukiko: “You are most welcome. Myself? I pick neither. I apologize if it does not answer your question but I do not wish to know the time nor the means of my death.”

Meichi’a: “I must agree with the ravishing raven-haired delight. Date or cause, it would hang over my head. Unless I was told that I would die from exhaustion after a night with several del- .. oh please don’t glare, my beret-bearing beauty! I was merely joking, merely joking!”

“If you were trapped on an island, would you rather resort to cannibalism or die of starvation?”

Yuti: “N-neither! I-if I was trapped on an island a-and had to r-resort to cannibalism, t-that would mean there are others there. W-we could work together to b-build a raft... t-then I can use conjury t-to help propel it a-and get off the island!”

Reri: “Ya ain’t stupid enough to think that’s the actual question, Snowflake.”

Yuti: “N-no! B-but... I mean...I s-suppose I w-would fish?”

Reri: “Still ain’t the question, Snowflake. Why don’t ya answer it?”

Yuti: “F-fine. I’d s-starve. It w-would f-feel... w-wrong...” Reri: “Knew it! Hah. Lookin’ Miss Prissy over here, thinkin’ she’s too good ta eat. Me? ‘course I’d do what it took to survive. Ain’t no difference between Miqo and Marlboro at the end of the day, ‘cept Miqo flesh probably ain’t gonna poison ya.”

Rahya: “I ain’t gonna do not cannyballism! Them things is big and explosive an’ madea metal! I couldn’t eat it even if I tried real real ha... what?”

Sayo: *whispers quietly*

Rahya: “WHAAA?! What kinda question is that?! I ain’t gonna eat nobody!!”

Sayo: “I must agree. To eat the flesh of a fellow Spoken is shameful and dishonorable. It would taint your bloodline and your legacy for generations. Starving is a kinder fate than that.”

Tsukiko: “It is true that such an act taints your bloodline. As I am already an *unworthy* servant of a tained line however it would not be shameful to eat the flesh of another... assuming they were already dead of course. Otherwise I would be honor-bound to offer myself first. Assuming one would like to eat *my* tainted flesh.

Meichi’a: “ Well, as much as I do enjoy eating a scrumptious beauty, it would not be in THAT way. I may consider life to be important but I am a gentleman first and foremost and there are some things a gentleman never does.”

“Would you rather have an arm hacked off or a leg?”

Yuti: “... I w-wish this wasn’t a question. A-ah... I m-mean... N-Nate seems to be doing okay... I g-guess... I d-don’t... A-arm? Yes.” Reri: “Easy. Arm. Ya can get by one one arm. It takes some work ta relearn to fight but ya can do it. Leg though? Shite, yer gonna be hobblin’ along. Lookit the Flames general. He ain’t havin’ a bad time.”

Rahya: “Um... I like havin’ arms. I can draw an’ move stuff.... an’ hug! I ain’t able ta hug nobody if I only got one arm... I mean I guess I kinda can but it’d be all.. *awkward one-armed hugging motions* so.. leg. Leg ain’t so bad. Plus ya could still ride on a chocobird or somethin’!”

Sayo: “I would choose to lose a leg. One can be far more productive with two functioning hands than two functioning legs. Honored Uncle has but a single leg and has little trouble getting by.”

Tsukiko: “I would choose an arm. My job is to go where my Master orders. It would be far more difficult to do with a single leg.”

Meichi’a: “Why, not even a question. The things you can do with two hands are FAR more fun. I make my coin from music and playing a harp with a single hand would be... well, not impossible but challenging! And as for dancing, I knew a gentleman in Limsa who could dance better than most two-legged gentleman with nary but a single flesh and single wooden limb! The sound of his peg-leg against the dance floor was a music all its own!”

“If you murdered someone, how would you get rid of the body?”

Yuti: “...I... t-that is... I w-wouldn’t...” Reri: “It’s a QUESTION Snowflake, not a confession a’ guilt.”

Yuti: “I am aware, Mother. Ugh. F-fine. I w-would... I m-mean... I s-suppose f-fire?”

Reri: “(In a whiny stuttering voice) I s-suppose f-fire. Aww, isn’t that cute. Fire ain’t bad but the best way ta hide a body is ta give it to the sea. Minimal fuss, hard as hell ta look for it, the fish do mosta the cleanin’ for you. You oughta weight it down so it ain’t washin’ up on shore or somethin’ but if ya wanna be smart about it ya lure ‘em onto a boat first. Less mess an’ trouble.” Rahya: I... i ain’t gonna murder nobody none but if I was gonna I ain’t gonna hide nuffin’ because I did a bad thin an’ I ain’t should be pretendin’ I ain’t.

Sayo: “I would never murder someone. Even in the unfortunate situation where I was forced to do so in self-defense, I would not deny my crime. I would be judged fairly by the administrators of the land so that no stain would come upon my family’s honor.”

Tsukiko: “Oh, MIstress Kususha. It is so very noble that you believe so firmly in the laws of the land and their fairness! You are a very fortunate woman indeed to never have had to hide a body by melting it into a easily washed away sludge using a careful mixture of alchemic and natural chemicals!”

Meichi’a: “... I am uncomfortable with that answer! Ah... me? I suppose I would bury it. I’m not really the murdering type but it at least feels respectful.”

“Would you rather hear the voices of dead people or see their ghosts?”

Yuti: “Ah... t-that’s tough. H-hear I suppose. T-that way I’d b-be able to help them i-if they needed it.”

Reri: “*snort* The last thing I need is some clingy dead folk cloggin’ up my hearing with moans and wails. I’d rather see the bastards. Maybe I can get some clue about what killed ‘em and if there’s danger about and I don’t gotta hear them whimperin’ and cryin’ because they were too stupid ta not get killed.” Rahya: “... I’d like ta hear folks ta be honest... be kinda nice. Like havin’ a buncha friends around. An’ if Aasifa... I mean... it’d be nice ta know I could still hear Aasifa, yah?”

Sayo: “Ah... to see, I suppose. The Kami and ancestors already speak in their own ways, but it would be... comforting to see my deceased family again. To see their smiles.”

Tsukiko: “Ah, what an unusual question. I would choose to hear. The words of the dead are wise more oft than not and not all of us are blessed enough to have worthy ancestors to whisper in our ears.”

Meichi’a: “I too would choose to hear. It is the least painful choice. To see a lost love and her smile and her beautiful eyes, knowing again I would never be able to hold her? That is a torture, my good sir, a torture. But to hear her voice, to speak to her again? That would be a blessing, if a small one.”

“If someone you loved committed a gruesome murder, would you help them cover it up?”

Yuti: “I-it would depend... I m-mean on why it happened.”

Reri: “Eh. Maybe. Depends on if it’s worth the trouble. Someone went an’ killed someone for no reason, nah. Ya can’t control yerself enough to not be stupid, I’m doin’ the world a favor lettin’ yer stupid arse get caught.” Rahya: “... I ain’t... n-no, prob’ly not I mean... I ain’t... gruesome is a real nasty word, it means all violent an’ bloody an’ stuff, right?”

Sayo: “No. Even if I loved them dearly, murder is a dishonorable act even if it isn’t violent and gruesome. They would need to stand judgement for their actions. If I was caught it would bring great shame to my family,”

Tsukiko: “If my Master commanded it.”

Meichi’a: “Absolutely. Love is love after all. Though I would dearly hope I do not fall in love with a serial killer. There is some spice in danger but ah... you’d have to be rather mad to be aroused by death.”

“Would you rather be kidnapped for six months and survive or die without any psychological damage?”

Yuti: “I w-would rather survive. I... I’ve h-had bad encounters before.”

Reri: “What the Hells ‘psychological damage’ mean anyway? Ya mean I’d be more fucked up after? Who the Hells cares. Survival is survial.” Rahya: “I’m kinda wonderin’ what psycho logic is too. I mean if yer logical then ya ain’t psycho right? It don’t make a lotta sense ta..”

Sayo: *whispering*

Rahya: “Oooooooh. Um... I ain’t... I mean... I ain’t wanna die but I ain’t wanna be hurt a bunch either... If I gotta pick one I guess I’d pick survivin’ so I ain’t... y’know.. dyin’.”

Sayo: “I would choose death. I do not know what would cause psychological damage but it would most likely involved great shame and leave me incapable of fulfilling my role as a second daughter. Death is the more honorable choice.”

Tsukiko: “I would survive, of course. I have no other choice.”

Meichi’a: “Survival, of course. Life is life and even the kindest days of life can damage our minds in some way or another. Why choose to die over something like that?”

“You can only save one… your worst enemy’s infant child, or your best friend’s true love. Who do you pick?”

Yuti: "I... w-would pick the child. N-no matter what, a child is n-not their parent. T-they are innocent and h-have their own life ahead of them.”

Reri: “Pfft. Easy. The kid. If yer too dumb ta avoid whatever danger is puttin’ a baby at risk, ya probably are gonna die when ya eat somethin’ poison cuz you thought it was candy. The kid ain’t trained enough ta stand on their own an’ frankly if it’s my worst enemy’s kid then they’ll probably grow up ta be a fun challenge.” Rahya: “Um... This is an awful weird question? I’m figurin’... um... I ain’t gonna let a baby die. I ain’t got no worst enemies but even if I did I ain’t gonna let a baby die. It ain’t right.”

Sayo: “... I... that is a difficult question. Sire would say that saving a respectable adult is more important unless the child is a Firstborn. I suppose that should be my answer...”

Tsukiko: “Why, whichever my master commanded. Truly it takes a cold individual to leave a child to a cruel and merciless fate but ah.. that may be what is ordered and I must obey.”

Meichi’a: “I am afraid I must say the true love. The child is innocent... but true love is the rarest thing of all. I would do my utmost to avenge the child but one who murders love is the cruelest beast of all.”

“Would you rather marry your most recent ex or spend five years in jail?”

Yuti: "T-that one is easy. My ex. S-she is a wonderful person. I-it would be by no m-means a bad fate.”

Reri: “Easy. Marry ‘em. Then I just ditch ‘em. Like what kinda question is this? Marriage ain’t important.” Rahya: “I ain’t really ever had an... ex-anythin’ so... um.. I guess imma get locked up.”

Sayo: “I have not had an ‘ex’ in any meaningful term... but it would depend on the circumstances. If it was marriage to someone my sire approved of then it would be my duty. If it was some sort of... tawdy kidnapping then I would choose imprisonment. I am certain Lord Vachir would come rescue me!”

Tsukiko: “*smile* Marriage, of course. Marriage is much easier to escape than prison.”

Meichi’a: “... Ah, what a question! How does one qualify an ex? The last woman I slept with? The last I took for a night on the town? I suppose she was rather charming but marriage? I’m not sure. It is a sacred bond and not easily broken. I suppose if I found love then yes. Otherwise.. well, jail it is!”

Thank you all for taking the time to answer these… ahem… questions. I appreciate your candor and I’m sure our readers do as well. One last question of my own before we break. What’s next for you?

Yuti: "A-ah, I suppose I w-will continue my r-regular healing duties. I d-do have some e-exploration to do, m-maybe Lain will come along...”

Reri: “Same as ever. The four Fs. I hear there’s some kinda big arse monster bein’ spotted around recently, lookin’ forward ta tryin’ it out.” Rahya: “Um, I ain’t sure. Whatever happens ta me, I guess. i ain’t really plannin’...”

Sayo: “I intend to keep exploring Eorzea until I complete my mission.”

Tsukiko: “Whatever my Master commands. Until then, I suppose I will keep Kitakage out of trouble.”

Meichi’a: “Well, I saw this absolutely *beautiful* Elezen woman the other day, I am hoping perhaps to run into her again... ”

Tagged by: @peacekeeper-xiv

Tagging: @voidfirenate @anataerindottir @eyesseeingbeyondtheveil @onidephor @claihn Anyone else I missed!

#yuti kyis #reri kyis #rahya dovana #sayo kususha #tsukiko mumei #meichi'a rouw

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