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blorbosexterminator · 3 years

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Sergio's not gonna die, he is needed for a possible re-opening of the show. Palermo is too obvious (and that matters to pina), Raquel was already fake-killed. OTOH, Denver: has a lot more protagonism this season, with flashback and all, he is a universally beloved character (always a good candidate to kill), Jaime Lorente has been seen in some town with pedro and alba filming (prob flashback but why with those 2?). 90% sure he's the dead (if anyone).

Honestly, the only thing that would truly surprise me at this point if they indeed don't kill anyone next volume. Would be a move™, I'll give them that. But yes, I do think that they'll go with Denver too, and it has been foreshadowed to be honest. Doesn't change how much I dislike and genuinely disagree with that choice though. I don't think the actor would be up for a spin-off honestly, but anyway Sergio only has the element of surprise and the parallel with his father (the show is too fond of parallels lmfao) not much else to make his death a good choice.

And as you said, Palermo is predictable. And I imagine, with how politically aware™ the show is this season, they might also try to avoid the 'bury your gays' trope.

The thing is, most of what you and I just listed are just meta-textual reasons. I'm not saying those reasons have no place at all when considering writing choices, of course not, but I do disapprove, generally speaking, of writers taking this too much into account when writing their finales.

Sergio would be shocking to a more extent than the others, but that doesn't make him any more a good choice. Denver would guarantee as much of an angry and frustrated reaction as Nairobi (Although I honestly don't dislike Nairobi's death as much as everyone else. I thought it was well-played to an extent) and would have a strong emotional response plus parallels with Moscu, but to me it would be very misplayed.

I wasn't really talking about what I expect from the show as much as what I personally believe is a good writing choice. I most expect Denver to die, but I think Palermo is the most fitting choice.

Like sure, those things are subjective, and they change from one fan to the other as well as from one writer to the other. But just because the death of a character is predictable doesn't mean it's not the most fitting choice for the situation. Not really, I think it means the audience sees something there.

Look, before anyone starts assuming I just *want* Martín to die to see some afterlife scene for my ship, or even a parallel. Yeah, sure, preferablly as a fan of them I'd love this, but I don't think they are in any way necessar. To me, they would just be peppering that would make the death scene nicer stylistically speaking. I don't even think the show canonized the after-life or something of the sort, again I just think they are a mere stylistic choice. I wouldn't be at all actually bothered if we got nothing of the sort.

I just wholly believe the best choice to go with for both textual and meta-textual reasons is Palermo. First, the meta-textual ones, despite the fact that I disapprove of how they got there, I have to admit that the show managed to get him to be more likable this season. General audiences that have previously hated the hell out of him like him enough now. But at the same time Martín is still not Sergio, Raquel, or Denver. His death would cause some sadness and emotional response in the audience but not literal rage and feeling of betrayel, like say for example how GOT fans felt. Also, Martín now has enough alive characters that care about him that would make his death sad. It's unlikely an audience would give a shit about a character's death if none of the surrounding characters do. But now there is Helsinki, who incidentally Martín is also much nicer and caring towards this season, so Helsi would have "good reasons" to react strongly to his death, Sergio supposedly also cares for Martín, and we can say Raquel respects him. So the characters around him wouldn't be indifferent, especially if his death has value in the narrative, say an actual sacrifice for the rest of them. The show itself is VERY fond of the sort of arc that goes along the line 'Selfish character who caused harm and pain to all around them reaches selfishness and then sacrifices their life for the sake of the others.' It happened with Berlin, it happened with Tokyo. And it seems is effective enough. So if I were the writer and wanted a death that is effective but won't anger audience too much, I'd 100% go with him.

And again, a point is Martín even has something that neither Tokyo nor Andrés did, he had a very direct hand in the killing of a very beloved team member. Sure, you can say Tokyo had a hand in what happened to Moscu, but Tokyo legitimately had very little choice because she couldn't find Sergio and she had no intention to do harm, she didn't know her entrance would literally cost the man's life. Martín knew very, very well what Gandia was capable of and this is exactly why he did what he did.

Martín is narratively still responsible for Nairobi's death and took no hand in even avenging her from Gandia. That was Bogota and then Tokyo. And the character seems to be weighted by that guilt to a large extent. And I think the absolute best way for the narrative to resolve this point is by Martín dying directly to save Helsinki, who the show also made a point of also incapacitating, and I'd imagine that would have repercussions on how efficient getting out of the bank would be on him. Characters rarely get injured just for the sake of it, Nairobi's terrible injury from Alicia made her much more susceptible to Gandia, who had a huge leverage on her as she was physically incapable of resisting anything. (I imagine Monica's situation would also have repercussions--hopefully just not on Denver lmfao)

So despite generally not being a fan at all of the pairing in any way or form, and how they generally make no sense to me, with how the show is going now it's definitely best for Martín to die partially for his plan and partially for Helsinki.

Like ideally, what I'd personally most love to see and what I'd personally write a 2573 different fic versions of, is for Martín to die for his plan and for Sergio. I personally believe outside of the plan, Martín's most important relationship in his arc is with Sergio. But the show already ignored their relationship enough this volume as a first and Sergio already got the strong death scenes with Berlin and Tokyo as a second, it could be seen as an excess. But with Helsinki it's meaningful on a different level. The character Nairobi cared about the most is Helsinki (and he's also nearly as well-liked by the audience), so this would balance what he did to Nairobi in a pretty significant way, not completely out-do it, but the two acts would definitely balance each other. To both the audience and to the characters, Martín would be truly "redeemed." Which despite how much I dislike, and genuinely don't agree with it, the show is already putting a lot of focus on his 'redemption'. I don't like redemption arcs generally speaking, I don't think Martín is fit for it, and I don't think it's happening in an organic way at all, and I frankly believe it made him boring, but alas, it is what is is, the show is already half-way there, it already took that route, so the only end for it is to finish it and go all the way. It would be very useless if he ended up surviving lmfao.

And of course the other reason is for Martín's personal arc. The plan is his life's work, the thing he showed most loyality and love to from the moment he showed up 2 seasons ago, the end of his arc is with the end of his plan. Never mind how A LOT of scenes would be useless if Martín doesn't actually die for the success of the plan; the whole reason Sergio opposed it so strongly is because, in his own words, it was completely suicidal. Sure, you can say that they already proved the plan is dangerous by the army going in and all of this "war", but there was no Rio, Raquel, Plan Paris or Plan Roman in the original plan, so there would have been no reason for things to go that bad in that respect, all that happened in volume one is by direct consquence of the plan changing, so that still leaves the question why was Berlin and Palermo's plan so wrong and so suicidal if we don't take into account this war? If there is no answer and if there is no answer that is actually anchored by a death in canon, then those were really all just empty scenes. And of course it's Martín, the mastermind and engineer, the artist who crafted this poem, that has to die for its completion and overall success. Since day one, his arc has been tied intimately to this plan, we barely even know anything about him beyond it. And like, three people died for the mint heist and it was a plan made to work perfectly without a single flaw, where does this put a heist that was just full of romanticism and complete focus on the gold with disregard to the people? All of the scenes we saw of Sergio rejecting the bank heist in the flashbacks on that basis have to mean something now.

Against all of this, what does Denver have? What will his death signify? Nothing, in my opinion. The man didn't even want to be there. Also I guarantee you, if he does die for Monica the way he said, every single fan will turn against her and the hate the character will receive will be insane. Like why end the story of those two characters this way? What is there beyond edginess and grimness for their own sake?

Martín's death, even if it causes sadness, will be satisfying for his character. Besides, Martín as a character is too much like Tokyo, I don't imagine he himself would be very satisfied growing old and dying under the radar somewhere; going with a blaze now, sealing off his life's work and having his death mean something too is a much, much more satisfying ending for him.

Tldr; Palermo in a very balanced position to kill, especially that he is currently the actual leader, a position the show has given him with more space and better, much nicer spotlight now than in the third season. And I imagine with volume two focused more on extracting the gold, his role will get only bigger in that respect. He's still responsible for Nairobi's death. And he should 100% die for the Gold and the completion of his plan.

#asks #lcdp #Martín Berrote #Sergio Marquina #lcdp Denver #Monver

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polpoka · 3 years

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Birthdays

Shippings-Bapen/Pensen

Rating- K+

(Fluff)

Part 1

Basen wasn’t the type to celebrate his birthdays. It wasn’t that he regretted being born or anything, he just didn’t think it was any different from any day.

‘It wasn’t that special,’ he personally thought.

However, his lover didn’t think so.

“What! You- you don’t celebrate your birthdays!?”

Basen looked at him, confused.

“Yes? What about it?”

Pen looked shocked and got up from his partner’s lap.

“So many things!? What do you mean, ‘what about it’. A birthday is meant to be celebrated. How are you alright with just not doing anything special? What about gifts?”

“Gifts? I don’t need gifts. My family already does a lot for me.”

“Eh? B-but it’s your birthday!”

“So?”

“When is your birthday, anyway?”

“In a week. Why?”

Pen’s jaw dropped.

“ A week. And you tell me now.”

Basen just stared at him.

“You never asked.”

Basen was getting under Pen’s skin.

“...But you know mine.”

Basen however, had no clue as to what was happening.

“You told me yours.”

Pen huffed.

“You were supposed to tell me too, you know?”

“Was I?”

“You really-”

Pen sighed, sometimes Basen really got on his nerves, even though that was what Pen loved about him.

“I’ll be getting you a gift for your birthday. So, do you have anything you want currently?”

“Nothing in particular.”

Pen frowned at the lukewarm response.

“Fine. I’ll get you something I can guarantee you’ll like.”

“ Don’t get me a pen. Hyung already bought me one from Capital when he was visiting.”

“Tch.”

Pen grumbled.

That was the one thing Pen had guaranteed that Basen would love. He got up from the couch and looked the other man in the eye.

“I’ll see you in a week then.”

Basen looked a little confused.

“Why? You could still visit me. I rarely get to see you anyway.”

“I’ll be busy selecting a good gift and planning a party in a week.”

“A party is unnecessary.”

Pen ignored the last statement and walked out of the room, grabbing his coat in the process.

“That idiot,” he grumbled, before remembering his first meeting with his brother.

“Just like his brother.”

***

He walked through to the roads to take a closer look at the shops. Thankfully, he had the liberty to do so, since his secret bodyguards would be insuring his protection.

‘Being under disguise isn’t that bad.’

He then spotted something that caught his eye. A monocle.

He could imagine the younger man wearing the monocle and having a permanent scowl on his face.

Pen chuckled. ‘He would look hilarious in that, but it suits him. Weird.’

He hummed as he walked down the street, eying various titbits, varying from magical equipment to clothes to flowers.

Nothing seemed to suit Basen, and though there were numerous times he was tempted to buy something and get it over with, he remembered his words and sighed, bringing him back to his goal.

“What would he like?” Pen mumbled.

“Excuse me, sir, would you like some help?”

He turned to see a very professional-looking attendant.

“Yes, I would like to see something for a seventeen-year old boy. His measurements are xxx.”

“Is it for the young lord?”

‘This woman really does have a keen eye.’

“Yes.”

The woman however, despite her stoic face, was trying not to show how nervous she was.

‘This man...He’s the prince of the Breck Kingdom, isn’t he? That face is something I’d recognize anywhere, especially since we specialize in nobility. What is he doing here?’

“Please sit here and look at these.” She led him to a room which had the prototypes of the outfits, for the demographic, and handed him a list of the outfits.

Pen looked through the list of outfits and finally, after half a day, found something that would suit Basen.

It was a gorgeous coat which he was sure would look good on Basen. The shade of brown used, had a richer color,and a lovely germanium was used as the fabric underneath, the exact color as Pen’s hair. It had no embroidery and would definitely appeal to the younger man.

He smiled at the wonderful choice.

He walked out of the store, happy at the fact he had managed to finish one of the many tedious jobs to come.

***

He headed back to the residence that the Henituse estate had prepared for him to proceed with the plan, but Pen was a little too tired and, honestly just wanted to rest. He collapsed on his bed after his arrival at the designated room, and just as his eyes were about to close, he heard a knock.

He grumbled, and reluctantly parted from his comfortable bed to open the door and see who it was.

Pen frowned.

"Well, well, well, look who it is."

Basen looked down at his lover's feet, a little flustered and still confused at the response he got.

Pen noticed this. He really wanted to smirk at his victory at proving his point, but still kept a stoic face.

"Didn't I ask you to not visit me for the time I'm here?"

"B-but I didn't know that you'd be so stubborn on that point! It's just a birthday,"

Basen protested.

"Just a birthday? It was the day you were born. It should be celebrated."

Pen sighed. His rational side tried to reason with his emotional side. He knew that Basen was a different person, but he couldn't just let it go.

'Why does he not celebrate? It's his birthday. It's a day to be celebrated. Why doesn't he get it!?'

Basen was getting frustrated. He didn't understand what the problem was, yet he was being bombarded with these comments on his life, which he believed to be completely fine. Basen knew he wasn't an emotional person. He knew that he wasn't able to understand what his partner was feeling, and so did his partner know that he couldn’t.

He just couldn't help raising his voice;

"Just tell me what's wrong already! I don't get it! I don't get these things if you don't tell me, you know that!"

Pen's eyebrows loosened and he became stiff. Though, it wasn't often Basen raised his voice, Pen never liked it when he did. He paused for a minute, took a deep breath and got his thoughts on order.

"Come in."

Basen frowned, but went through with it, taking a seat where he thought it would be appropriate to sit as a guest.

Pen walked to the tea brewer in the room,

"I'll get the tea."

"No need. I won’t be staying here for long anyway."

Pen halted and went over to take a seat right in front of Basen. They both let their eyes search the other for a while to study what they were feeling, Pen felt sorry for driving his other half, as he called him so lovingly, to such a limit. His guilt started to overtake his anger.

"I'm sorry. It was my fault."

Unfortunately, Basen was irritated, which made his vision clouded. This wasn't something that he felt that often, but the situation was just so irksome.

He looked at him in disbelief and disgust.

Pen flinched at the gaze.

"It IS your fault. Prince, we established that. Moving on," he sighed,"I think I needed some time to myself, since you're going to act like that." He snapped, as he gestured towards the door.

Pen knew instinctively that Basen was losing his temper. The feeling was icky and seeped through his organs and through his bones, slowly creeping into his heart.

'No.' He started to wave his hands in panic and also partly because of the fear of the other man's rejection.

"Please-"

"See you later, Pen. Do not follow me.Well, you won’t. Since, you don’t want to meet me anyway."

He was cut off with those icy words, his name said with such disdain, he felt as if Basen was using his name as an insult in itself.

***

Basen got up from the couch and walked out of the room. He was hurt. Even though this was such a small thing, his mind couldn't register the way Pen had treated him. He had completely trampled over his emotions and way of doing things. He needed to be away from his lover for some time, to at least cool off.

It wasn't that these kinds of arguments weren't normal and a daily occurrence, they did bicker occasionally, but this time it had gone too far. Never had he expected Pen to follow his way of life, nor did he think Pen would want him to do so. Pen was a person who was not that accepting, Basen knew that, but still he believed that some things were different about them and those had to be accepted.

He walked down the staircase to find a maid or a butler.Instead, he saw a familiar face, yet found it unusual to see at home.

"Hyung!"

He walked quickly to close in on the distance between them.

The older man looked down at him with a cold expression.

"Basen," his cool voice responded.

"Will you be staying for long?"

"No. I'll be leaving after dinner.”

“Alright. I'll just let you know that Mother would like to see you.” Basen wasn’t surprised, since he was used to this.

He walked past Cale, who noticed that his younger brother who he wasn’t that close with, was odd. since he did promise Og! Cale to take care of his younger brother, he asked him about what happened, but not that much not to encroach on his privacy.

“You look depressed. Did something happen?”

Basen stiffened, but nodded and walked out of the residence.

Cale felt a bit concerned, even though he didn’t show it on his face.

***

Basen went into his room, all his energy had been sapped and he brewed himself some tea and took a seat on his bed. He gradually sipped on it, emptying the cup, taking his time. He huffed the steam coming out of the cup. He needed to calm his nerves. The tea he was drinking, Earl Grey, was also introduced to him by Pen. He unconsciously found himself smiling and remembering the times Pen had got him the tea, not to forget, the first time he had got it for him.

‘He was so excited,’ he thought, he looked at his reflection in the tea and frowned remembering the events that had just taken place. He felt the tea in his mouth go bitter.

“I need rest.”

He mumbled.

He quickly gulped down the entire cup and kept the cup on his side table, before falling over in his bed. He could feel a headache coming over him. He exhaled sharply.

“I’m tired. That’s all it is.” He mumbled, trying to ignore the thoughts running rampant in his mind.

His eyelids drooped, shutting his thoughts along with his eyes.

#tcf #tcf basen #basen henituse #pensen #bapen #trash of the count's family #prince pen #tcf pen #basen x pen #pen x basen

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g3nosarchive · 3 years

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ok i genuinely think a lot of other people have this problem but stop inserting yourself when xyz issue is mentioned. when someone is telling you that a person, a celebrity, some franchise is harming their identity or anyone’s identity as a minority, or part of a certain race or religion or anything shut the fuck up and accept it.

they do not need to know your emotional attachment to said thing, your disbelief, your horror, your personal experience - we didn’t ask for all that. we know just how bad it is, cus yk it harms us maybe? we’ve already gone through the cycle of being angry and indignant and now we’re here trying to get you to understand in the hopes that as a friend you do what you’re meant to do when you became friends with us. we are not your constant ball of anger to use whenever you find something that’s “crazy, unbelievably, shockingly” once again, a hate crime, when you decide you want to feel angry and care about it.

more under the cut bc i talk too much

by doing that, you’re making an issue that you didn’t even know about suddenly yours. ask yourself, what is the purpose for telling anyone all that? to get them to sympathize with you personally so you can get a pass because you didn’t know? of course you don’t know, of course you’re unaware, that’s the whole reason why you’re being told in the first place. do not water down the issue or even try to play the ‘everything has some issue like this so there’s no point in going this far’ card. especially as a white person. the reason why you don’t know primarily is because it doesn’t affect you and it doesn’t cross your mind.

when you watch a show with a black character, you don’t care about how off the character design is or how stereotypical and borderline racist the comedy gag surrounding said character is. when you listen to your favorite white music artists or watch your favorite movie with a majority white cast, white staff, white team, and white theme, you don’t care to analyze just how outdated and stereotypical the way that token asian character is portrayed. some of y’all don’t understand and will never understand the mental struggle and awareness forever plugged into the brain of lgbt and/or poc, especially black people when we consume anything, when we go anywhere, when we meet new people, to constantly catch those micro aggressions and know what to avoid.

so when someone tells you insert classic hot mess is racist and you should stop supporting it, one of the worst things you can do beside outright rejecting it is to defend it and insinuate that we don’t know what we’re talking about, that we need 30 different sources to prove it all, that you don’t think (for example taylor swifts dream colonized africa mv) is bad. you try to say the thing or person that is actively promoting all this homophobia, racism, transmisogyny etc needs to be kindly educated, is trying their best, will learn soon enough, just wasn’t educated, will do better in the future (esp looking at u kpop stans). does their apparent regret but refusal to properly apologize actually matter? the damage has already been done.

that in itself is a privilege i could never have. i don’t even try being a fan of any major white celebrity or any kpop group because i guarantee if i search up their name with ‘racist’, ‘sexist’, ‘homophobic’, ‘transphobic’, ‘cultural appropriation’ behind it something or some image is bound to show up. you will all say “oh they haven’t done anything yet” but when it comes out that they did, they have, and they do not care about who it affects, suddenly it’s a bombshell dropped on you out of nowhere.

it’s not that hard to spot these things actually. if your fav is constantly putting themselves against people of color, saying shady shit about non cishets while being a cishet themself, saying one thing and doing another, or has been silent when their voice was expected to speak up, shouldn’t you notice? y’all will reblog all these posts but in reality only 10% are actually reading and listening and actually digesting this information for future use.

and i think the thing that pisses me off is this is all from personal experience where i’m speaking from. over the past 2 days the amount of times if i’ve heard about the “tea that dropped w meghan markle” is ridiculous and annoying. a girl texted me and i sat there and i realized that she does this on a daily basis to fuel my anger and get me to validate her own useless anger. of course i knew about it and i wasn’t surprised at all - she’s still a black woman.

almost every black blog on here, when they get big enough, deals with some sort of weird shit surrounding their blackness. if you get big on speaking about issues you are now this emotionless token ‘smart black person i can actually trust’ to use as your replacement for google. this is not to say asking questions is bad, but it is so easy to pull up some of the shit you guys ask for. some people get called slurs directly, targeted for being too black or not black enough, attacked for their features and etc and someone mentioned this before but the only people that care in those situations are other black people themselves. white people will have blm in their bio but turn the other way the minute some anon starts acting up in their mutuals’ inbox, calling them a dark1e because they felt confident enough to post some selfies. and then you get sad when we dont go to you for any kind of support?

i’ve stated sometimes that asking me questions on issues and things is okay, but one of the main reasons i say that is because whether i say it or not, i’ll be asked questions and expected to know everything and i am your personal walking encyclopedia and ofc it’s natural for me to have all this information in my head, as if i didn’t research it myself. but then i think about the numerous amounts of people that specifically say not to ask them this shit because it really does tire you out, that they don’t want to have to deal with this in any space but they still get them.

and then the ones that don’t even know themself so people will use them as an example and say “well this person didn’t know and they’re ‘marginalized identity’ so it should be fine for me too”. good god just apologize, show that you really care, change your behavior and move on. do you think it was fun being asked the statistics for george floyd’s and other black peoples death in class? that you were being inclusive and giving me a chance to show off my intelligence, to prove to others that i really had something up here and you were my greatest star eyes white friend that gave me that chance? i cant close my posts like this properly but i want you to think about that shit and actually ask yourself if you’d do that. a lot of you will read this and think “i’m not that type of racist” “i don’t have those deep seated prejudices in me” yes you do. you just haven’t been called out on it.

for all the shit ive dealt with above, if i’ve ever talked to you about this before dont come to me to apologize i do not need it and you are not the only person i’ve received this from. i guarantee you that there’s about 20 other people i’ve thought about while writing this post considering i’m a black person in the real world, so keep your guilt to yourself an deal with it

white people don’t add on to this

#important #antiblackness #george floyd #death mention #ok to rb #more than ok but #here it is 😇#ill rb this everyday if i have to

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eldritchteaparty · 3 years

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Chapters: 16/22 Fandom: The Magnus Archives (Podcast) Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Martin Blackwood/Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist Characters: Martin Blackwood, Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist, Tim Stoker (The Magnus Archives), Sasha James, Rosie Zampano, Oliver Banks, Original Elias Bouchard, Peter Lukas, Annabelle Cane, Melanie King, Georgie Barker, Alice "Daisy" Tonner, Basira Hussain Additional Tags: Post-Canon, Fix-It, Post-Canon Fix-It, Scars, Eventual Happy Ending, Fluff and Angst, I'll add characters and tags as they come up, Reference to injuries and blood, Character Death In Dream, Nudity (not sexual or graphic), Nightmares, Fighting

Summary: Following the events of MAG 200, Jon and Martin find themselves in a dimension very much like the one they came from--with second chances and more time.

Chapter summary: Everyone heads to Elias’s house to continue discussing their situation. Jon and Martin talk with Elias.

Chapter 16 of my post-canon fix-it is out! Read at AO3 above or here below the cut.

Tumblr master post with links to previous chapters is here.

***

Martin took the front seat for the ride out to Elias’s house. He wasn’t sure if that was what Jon preferred, but it felt like it put less pressure on him to engage with Elias. He supposed he could have made some excuse to sit in the back seat with Jon, which is what he’d really wanted to do, but that would have made what was already a very awkward occasion even more awkward; after all, Elias was doing them a favor.

He wished he’d thought before to ask Jon how he actually felt about Elias. There was no guarantee Jon would have wanted to talk about it, but he should have offered him the chance. Martin could tell Jon wasn’t comfortable around Elias, but then again, neither was he. It wasn’t Elias, necessarily—it was more about the fact that when he looked at him, he couldn’t help but see Jonah Magnus, at least for a moment.

This brought up a bigger question that Martin had thought about but had no way to really ask Jon, and that was how much he operated on what Martin imagined most people did—memories, experience, reasoning things out—and how much he operated on knowing and feeling things most people couldn’t feel. During the apocalypse it had been almost exclusively the latter, based on how incapacitated Jon had been when separated from the Eye, but he knew Jon didn’t have nearly the abilities he’d had then.

On the other hand, there had been times recently when Jon had acted on Martin’s feelings without even realizing he’d been doing it; Martin suspected it had happened more times than he knew. Was it just with him that happened?

Only half conscious of it, he turned to check on Jon in the back seat.

He’d basically succeeded in putting the thought of their bond from the Lonely out of his mind since their first big argument here. Jon had just gotten so sick, and then—well, everything else, and he’d basically filed it away, undigested, a concept he didn’t quite know what to do with. Now, as Martin watched Jon stare distractedly out of the car window and into the night outside, the thought reinstated itself.

What did it mean, now that they appeared to be heading down the same path as before? Although he detested the whole idea, maybe he was somehow essential to Jon being able to start another apocalypse—or maybe, if Jon did end up starting one, Martin was essential to whatever his plans might be afterward. Could he use that somehow to—to help keep Jon safe?

As soon as the thought occurred to him, the guilt poured in from wherever it tucked itself away. Trying to protect Jon always felt so much like working against him, and he hated it, but he still hadn’t found another way. The guilt compounded with a familiar frustration bordering on anger—no, it was anger—as he reminded himself that even if he came up with something, even if he did manage to find some small foothold of power in this situation, it would almost certainly backfire. Everything—every plan, every measure of protection he or Jon had tried to take—always had.

He realized Jon had stopped staring into the darkness outside of the car and was now looking at him.

Martin took a breath to say something—he wasn’t sure what—when Elias spoke for the first time since they’d gotten in the car.

“Everything all right?”

“Um—yeah,” Martin said, turning back around in his seat. “Yeah, it’s just late, and I—I guess I’m tired. Sorry for not being more helpful.”

“Oh, I’m fine. I do this drive a lot.”

“Yeah, I—I guess you do.” Martin glanced back to see Jon had returned to looking in the direction of the window. “I mean, every day, right?” It was an incredibly stupid question, but Martin felt obligated to make some effort to keep the conversation going.

“Well—mostly. Every now and then I stay in the office overnight.” Elias turned and caught Martin’s eye, but the resulting discomfort seemed to be mutual, and he quickly returned his eyes to the road. “Or, I suppose, more often I just don’t come in in the first place. Sasha pretends to hate it, but I think we all know she’s happier when I just stay out of the way.”

Elias laughed at his own self-derogatory remark, and Martin tried to be polite with a quick hm. He hadn’t spent a lot of time around Elias here; he’d actually done his best to avoid him, simply because he was his boss, and Elias had seemed fine with that. It was the same way he’d tried to avoid Jon before—before he’d turned out to be Jon. Sasha had always been Sasha, she’d gone out of her way to make him comfortable, but—well, in any case, he didn’t think that laughing about Elias being a shit boss was the best way to forge a relationship. He had no idea how to interact with him under the best of circumstances, and therefore tonight was a lost cause. Thankfully, Elias seemed to arrive at the same conclusion, and let the conversation drop.

Martin turned to imagining the scenery that might be outside the car for the remainder of the ride.

He assumed they had arrived when Elias turned the car off the main road, and the surface beneath the car began to crunch. They drove a short way down this gravel lane before Elias stopped the car and pulled out his phone and opened an app.

“Looks like Allan gave up on me tonight,” he said. “Give it a minute… and… there.”

Several flood lights lit up the drive that curved around in front of an impressive country house; it was an impressive house to Martin, anyway. Elias hadn’t been joking when he’d said he had enough bedrooms to go around. His surprise must have shown on his face.

“The outside’s the best part,” Elias said, as he pulled the car around near the front door. “I really don’t even use most of it. It was a family place. No idea why I hang on to it, other than—well, it works.”

“Did you grow up out here?”

“Here?” Elias asked. “No—not really. We lived in town. We came here sometimes, I guess. Mostly my father rented this one out. I sold the London place as soon as he died, and meant to do the same with this one, but—well, it’s been twenty years—twenty-five, almost? Christ—and here we are.”

“Right,” Martin said, even though he had no frame of reference at all. His mother had died with nothing but what she’d kept with her in the care home. He supposed he was grateful for that; he’d barely found the fortitude to go through the couple of boxes they had returned to him. “Well—thanks again for having us all out here.”

“Oh—it’s, um—” Elias paused. “It’s the least I can do.”

“It’s not.” They turned to look at Jon.

“Sorry?”

“I’m just saying it’s—it’s not the least you can do. It’s rather far from it, actually.”

“Well—” Elias paused again. “Look, I’m feeling sort of—”

“They’re here.”

“What?”

Headlights flashed down the drive.

“Oh, the girls,” Martin said. “Guess they left around the same time we did.” Elias and Jon were already getting out of the car by the time he finished his sentence, clearly also not eager to have a real conversation for the moment.

“Park anywhere,” Elias told them as they pulled up. “You see where Allan’s parked, and we’re not expecting anyone else.”

“Tim,” Sasha said from the back seat. “He’ll be here. Well—in a day or two.”

“He’s been here before. He’ll figure it out.”

They managed to get everything out of the cars in one go, with Elias bringing Georgie’s bags, and Georgie carrying a padded crate that emitted an occasional small sound of distress. Georgie caught Martin looking toward the crate as they walked toward the house.

“He’s not fond of car rides, I’m afraid. Do you—like cats?”

“Oh, I just like animals,” Martin said, wondering why he was suddenly feeling shy. It was interesting, feeling something like a normal emotion in the middle of all this. He couldn’t decide if it was a waste of energy or a relief. “Never really had a pet, though.”

“Well, this is the Admiral. He’s pretty friendly, at least when he’s not in the car, so—”

“Oh yeah, Jon’s told me all about him.”

“Is that so?” Georgie asked, turning to look at Jon.

“I, uh—did get to know him a bit. Before. There, I mean.”

“Right,” Georgie said, shaking her head. “It’s going to take me a while longer to get used to this.”

“All right,” said Elias, as they walked through the front door. “I know it’s late, so if you all don’t mind I’ll save the tour for tomorrow. I was thinking it might be best if you all stayed on the first floor, but there are other rooms on the second floor. That’s where Allan’s room is. My bedroom’s down there”—he pointed to hallway on the right— “and I was thinking you all could stay here.” He led them down a hallway in the opposite direction.

“There are three rooms. Sasha, this one’s just got a double. It’s the smallest room, and you’d have to use the bath across the hall here—well, I mean, there are others, but that’s the closest. If it’s ok with you—”

“Oh, yeah,” Sasha looked both tired and appreciative. “Honestly, it’s much bigger than my room at home. It’s—it’s great. If you all don’t mind, I might head off? Try and get some sleep?”

“All yours. Oh—that door at the end of the hall, that’s a linen closet. If any of you need an extra blanket or towel or anything.”

“Thanks,” Sasha said. “For all of this. Goodnight.”

They headed just a little further down the hall as Sasha closed the door behind herself. “As for the other two rooms—Melanie and—Georgia—”

“Georgie.”

“Right, I’m—I’m sorry—Georgie—I was thinking if you didn’t mind sharing the hallway bath with Sasha, this room has a super king. Or the other one’s a king, but it does have an en-suite shower. And again, there are other rooms upstairs if—”

“I’m ok with this one,” Melanie said. “Georgie?”

“Sure. Unless you two—?” She looked toward Martin and Jon.

“Oh, I don’t—I don’t think we care?” He looked at Jon, who by now also seemed quite tired. Jon shook his head. “I mean, we’ve been sharing a double, and I guess before that we just slept on the ground somewhere, you know, when we could sleep, so…”

He trailed off as he realized everyone was looking at him with slightly wide eyes—even Melanie, who had been avoiding eye contact since they had arrived. He hadn’t meant to say quite that much.

“Well,” Georgie said quickly, releasing some of the tension, “if you’re really fine with it, honestly, the Admiral’s a snuggler, so… yeah. We wouldn’t mind the extra space.”

“Here, I’ll—” Elias picked up Georgie’s bags again from where he had temporarily set them on the hallway floor, and glanced at Jon and Martin. “Are you two all right? It’s just the last door down that way.”

“Thank you,” Jon said, surprising Martin.

“You’re welcome,” Elias said, before turning to help Melanie and Georgie get settled.

Like Sasha, their room was also much bigger than the one they shared at home. Not only did the king fit in it—it would not have in Jon’s flat, as the double just about took up all the room left after the dresser and the side tables—there was also an armchair to one side of the bed and a small writing desk in the corner. He remembered Elias commenting that his father used to rent the place out.

“Bit formal,” Martin commented as he set down Jon’s suitcase, which had been the heavier of their two bags. “Big, though.”

Jon nodded and handed Martin’s bag to him before sinking on to the end of the bed. Martin took a moment to sit next to him.

“You all right?”

“Yeah.”

“Tired? Want to go to bed?”

Jon nodded. They undressed; they knew which sides of the bed belonged to each of them without asking. Just as Martin was about to pull down the sheets, he realized the only switch to turn off the light was near the door. Jon was already in bed, so he got up to turn it off. He looked at Jon as he did; his eyes were already closed.

“Jon?”

“Hm?”

“Do you feel safe here?”

“Like I said before—we’re as safe here as anywhere.”

“Do you feel safe here? With Elias?”

“Oh. I—” Jon paused, opening his eyes. “I do.”

“Ok.” Although he felt like maybe there was more to it, one of Jon’s short answers was going to have to be good enough for tonight. Martin turned off the light and felt his way back to the bed. Once under the covers, he reached out to find Jon. He realized he was glad that the king wasn’t that much bigger than their double. He felt Jon turn toward him in the dark.

Outside, through the conduit of the hallway and the walls connecting their rooms, he heard Melanie’s raised voice, too muffled to understand. She continued for a few minutes, her words occasionally peppered by some also-muffled comment from Georgie, and then there was silence again. A small part of him found comfort in it, even if Melanie was agitated. It was familiar; it was something outside of himself and Jon that he knew and still felt he could trust for what it was.

“I wonder what she’s on about?” Martin asked, yawning.

He didn’t expect Jon to answer, so he was a little surprised that he did. “That’s her business. Or—hers and Georgie’s.”

“Oh. I didn’t mean—I wasn’t really asking. Just talking.” Jon’s comment had, however, reminded him of what had happened on their ride over in the car.

“Jon, can I ask you about something? I mean—if you need to sleep—”

“I’m fine.”

“In the car tonight—when you—looked at me. Did you know what I was thinking?”

“What you were thinking? No.”

“What I was feeling, then?”

“I’m—” Jon started to move away from him, but Martin reached out to touch his arm and he stopped. “I’m sorry.”

“Look, I—I’m sure you didn’t mean to. Just please, talk to me. You—you can’t help it, can you? Sometimes.”

Jon was quiet; Martin could hear him breathing, feel him struggle with the tension in his body. He gave him a minute. “I don’t like it,” he finally said.

“I know you don’t. Is it—just me? Or are you always feeling everyone’s feelings?”

“It’s just you. Of course, it’s just you. You know why.”

“I see.” He sat with that for a moment, letting it sink in as he alternated the pressure of his fingers against Jon’s arm. He knew he was fidgeting, but Jon didn’t seem to mind it. Maybe it was helping. “What did you feel tonight?”

“You were—you were feeling guilty. You always feel guilty, but this was… sharp. And you were angry. And—” Jon shifted under his hand, but didn’t pull away again. “And it all had something to do with me.”

“I wasn’t angry at you.”

“You don’t owe me an explanation.”

“And I’m not going to give you one, other than that. I just—I want you to know that.”

“You know—it’s all right if you are mad at me. I would understand.”

“I know. But I’m not.”

Martin let that settle for a moment before speaking again. “Jon is this—new? I mean, different this time?”

“Sort of,” Jon said. “During the apocalypse, I suppose I—gravitated that way. To your feelings. But everything—everyone—was so loud then. I knew you didn’t like it, and there was always something to drown it out.”

He stopped and cleared his throat. Martin waited.

“Now… Now it’s like when it gets quiet, and all at once you can hear your own heartbeat, feel your pulse radiating through your body. And then you try to stop hearing it, stop feeling it, and—”

“And you can’t,” Martin finished. Jon’s words were becoming painful, although he wasn’t sure for which one of them. “Yeah. All right.”

“I should have told you before.”

“I know why you didn’t. It’s—it’s ok.” Martin said. “I’m sure my feelings are no picnic for you either.”

Jon moved again, but this time it was toward Martin, into his chest. The covers slipped down from his shoulder as he did, and Martin reached for them, pulling them back up. Carefully, so he would not disturb them again, he slid his arm down around Jon’s waist.

They slept.

***

Martin was disoriented when he woke up. It took a moment to remember where he was; the darkness confused him. There were windows on two sides of this room, yet both were covered with heavy curtains instead of blinds, and very little light actually came in. He sensed it was still early, but he wasn’t sure how early until he checked his phone. He hadn’t slept especially late, which wasn’t surprising given how much sleep he’d forced on his body over the last couple of days—but Jon was gone.

Jon’s clothes from the previous day were neatly placed on his side of the bed, so he’d taken the time to get dressed. Martin took that as a sign that he didn’t need to worry. He stood up and stretched, then peeked out of the curtains of the closest window. He couldn’t even see another house from where they were; the lawn extended off into the distance, with the occasional tree adding some variety to the landscape. If they wanted to be away from other people, it looked like they had achieved their goal.

He left one of the curtains open for the little light it provided, and found the small bag with his razor and toothbrush before heading to the bathroom. They had been so tired that they hadn’t even looked at it the night before. It was spacious, with two sinks and a large shower with a hinged glass door. Jon had already been in that morning—either he had been exceptionally quiet or Martin had slept very hard, and he would have believed either. He was slightly amused at his compulsion to use the other sink, the one Jon had not used.

After he had finished up and gotten dressed, he cautiously opened the door and looked down the hallway. No one was there; it was quiet. He closed the door gently behind him and headed back in the direction of the foyer they had walked through when they had come into the house; he imagined he’d find some kind of main room nearby. He passed Georgie and Melanie’s room, and then Sasha’s room; both doors were still closed.

As he drew closer to the foyer, he heard low voices from a room to the other side of the hallway. They sounded conversational, comfortable even. He quickly realized one of them was Jon, and as he continued to walk toward them he recognized the other as Elias. He froze just as he reached the doorway, not sure if he should interrupt; before he could really catch any of the conversation, however, Jon spoke out to him.

“Martin? Is—is that you?”

Is that me, Martin thought, right—but even if they had been alone he wouldn’t have called him on it after their conversation the previous night.

“Um, yeah,” he said, stepping with embarrassment to the edge of the foyer where they could see him. “I wasn’t trying to—I just wasn’t sure if I should interrupt. I can head off, if—”

“Come on in,” Elias said, looking cheerier than Martin could recall seeing him recently. He and Jon were seated in a very proper pair of armchairs, with a small side table situated between them; Elias sipped coffee from a mug as Martin entered. “I was just telling Jon about my father, which is apparently the only thing I know how to talk about when someone is forced to spend more than five minutes with me.”

“Oh,” Martin said, not sure what else to say. The room had a high ceiling and was almost uncomfortably large; there was a fireplace that didn’t appear to get much use, more armchairs, and a sofa with a large rectangular coffee table in front of it. There were windows and a large set of decorative doors in the back of the room—presumably leading to the back lawn—but like the windows in the bedroom, they all let in much less light than Martin felt like they should.

“Coffee? Tea?” Elias asked.

“Um—I’d love some tea. I can get it though, if you tell me where the—kitchen is.”

“Back that way.” Elias pointed behind himself to another doorway Martin had failed to notice. “Through the breakfast room. I’ve got one of those machines that does the whole coffee-espresso-tea-blah blah-whatever thing. Well, really, it’s Allan’s, but he finally broke me down and I started using it. Help yourself.”

Martin looked at Jon, trying to discern whether he was all right. “Go on,” Jon said, gesturing back toward the kitchen with a nod of his head. He did seem ok, Martin thought. He seemed calm, anyway.

Martin headed back to grab some tea. He had trouble thinking of it as making tea—he had a dislike for these machines, they never really boiled the water properly—but it would more than make do this morning. He automatically set out two mugs from the selection on the counter, and only when he was in the middle of adding milk did he realize he hadn’t noticed whether Jon already had one. Fortunately, he did not, and he enthusiastically reached for the cup when Martin set it in front of him.

Martin sat on the sofa, the option closest to the armchairs, but he still felt separated from Jon and Elias. It was like the furniture was spread too far apart to make up for the vastness of the room, and hadn’t quite succeeded.

“Did you sleep ok?” It took a moment for him to realize Elias was talking to him.

“Oh—yeah. Yeah, I guess I did.” Martin rubbed the side of his neck. “I actually wasn’t sure what time it was when I woke up. The curtains keep it pretty dark in there.”

“Ugh.” He had just meant to imply that it was good for sleeping, but apparently it was a sore spot for Elias. “Worst thing about this place—it’s so dark. And it really didn’t have to be, you know?” He took another sip of his coffee. “Sometimes I think my father really preferred—oh, never mind. I’ve had enough of his ghost already this morning.”

Martin took a sip of his tea in the brief but uncomfortable silence that followed; he was saved from having to think of something to say when the front door closed loudly. He turned to look toward the foyer, but no one was there.

“Oh, that was just Allan,” Elias said. “He usually heads in about now.”

“Oh. Does he—know we’re all here?”

“He’ll figure it out.”

“What, you didn’t tell him?”

“Nah. He’ll ask if he cares. He’s always pretty wrapped up at work this time of year.”

“What—what does he do?” Martin asked.

“He’s a professor at the University here in Kent.”

“Oh. In Canterbury.”

“Yeah.” Elias, who had been holding his coffee cup quite comfortably between his hands until this point, set it down on the side table. “Actually, to be completely honest—I mean, he is very wrapped up, he just gets that way—but I wasn’t sure I wanted to involve him in all this. You don’t—you don’t happen to know if Allan was all right there? In the—other dimension?”

Martin opened his mouth before he knew what he was going to say, and then turned to Jon. It was clear neither of them had expected this question, and Martin felt both guilty and grateful when Jon took the responsibility for answering it.

“He—no. He was not all right. He died. A long time ago, before you did. Did you—want to know about it?”

Elias sighed. “I just—had this feeling, I guess. I don’t know. Will it help if I know? Help him, I mean?”

“I have no idea,” Jon said.

“Huh.” Elias leaned forward in his armchair and clasped his hands together, contemplating, and then turned to Martin. “Would you want to know, if you were me?”

Martin shook his head, holding up his hands in front of him. “Oh, if Jon doesn’t know if it will help, I definitely don’t. I—”

“I know. But what—what would you do?”

“I guess—” Martin looked at Jon, who shrugged. “I’m not saying it’s right, and honestly, I’m probably the worst person to ask, but—yeah, I’d want to know.”

“Ok,” Elias said, sitting back against the chair. “Tell me.”

“He was… consumed. By a—through—a Leitner.”

“A Leitner?” Elias was confused. “Like—Jurgen Leitner?”

“That’s what we called his books,” Martin explained. “The books from his collection.”

“The collection in the archives right now,” Elias asked.

“Yes.”

“And Allan was—consumed—by a book.”

“Well, they were different there—” Martin started to say, but he was cut off by a burst of laughter from Elias.

“Of course he was.” He continued to laugh, but his laughter became more strained. “That would be exactly how Allan would go in a world full of monsters.” He leaned forward, and the laughter came to a gradual stop as he rested his head in his hands, elbows supported by his knees.

“I’m—I’m sorry,” Martin said, knowing exactly how little it helped.

“No, no—it’s—it makes perfect sense. It just—does,” Elias said, before finally raising his head. “So, what do you think—I keep him away from the Leitner collection? That’s easy enough. He’s never been to the Institute in his life.”

Martin and Jon met each other’s eyes again.

“It’s never—it’s never simple,” Jon said slowly. “I don’t know if it means anything, but it was a long time ago. Certainly the entities had an interest in you there that they didn’t here—that they don’t. That can’t—that can’t be a bad thing. For you or Allan.”

“I’m sorry,” Elias said, sitting up again. He sighed, reached for his coffee, and resumed holding the mug with both hands. Martin realized it was the way a person holds a hot drink when trying to warm their fingers, even though there was no way it could be that hot anymore.

“No need to apologize,” Martin said. “It’s—it’s a lot.”

“Tell me—tell me about Jonah Magnus. And me. I want to hear it from you.”

Jon took a long sip of tea; Martin was glad he had made it for him. “You already know the basic story. What do you want to know about it?”

“Well, ok. Why me? Why did he choose me?”

“I suppose… I suppose you did have a certain profile. You had the right social status to run the Institute. Your—experience with Allan may have primed you in some way. And—” he stopped.

“What?”

“There was no one watching you. Well, no one who—”

“No one who cared.”

“No. No one who—who would—object too strongly if you changed. Slowly. Dedicated yourself to the Institute. Became Jonah.”

“I see.” Elias turned his cup in his hands.

“On the other hand—you weren’t the only one he could have chosen. Not at all. In a very real sense, you were just unlucky. In the wrong place.”

“Sure.” He continued to focus on his cup. “Was it—was it fast, at least? For me?”

Jon sighed. “No. No, it was—long. And slow. And—terrifying.”

Martin shuddered just a little at Jon’s words; he wondered if Jon hadn’t taken it a bit far, but Elias stayed perfectly calm.

“I see,” Elias said again. “Do you think—I know you said I was in the wrong place, but—is it possible that—maybe that’s not true? Maybe that was—my purpose?”

“Your—purpose?” Jon looked directly at Elias. “What—”

“I just think—I never understood why I went to the Institute in the first place. I mean—I kind of did, I thought I’d take a low-level research job, waste some time, do something that would have pissed off my father a bit—but I never really understood why. Not really. And I ended up doing everything he wanted anyway.”

“Well—I’m only guessing, but I think there must have been some sort of pull between the two dimensions, and maybe—”

“And maybe my real reason for existing was there, in that other dimension, to be—that. Some sort of useless, waiting husk that Jonah Magnus could crawl into and—”

“No,” Martin interrupted him. “That’s not—”

“But it makes sense. Just like Allan being eaten by a book. It would explain some things—why I couldn’t just walk away from all this. It would explain why I could never find anything else to go to. If that was why I exist, and it was finished years ago—”

“Jon, please—”

“No.” Jon’s face was pale, and there was an edge of controlled anger in his voice. “That’s not a thing. It is no one’s purpose to serve them. No one exists specifically to suffer and—”

They were interrupted by the sound of voices drifting through the foyer from the hallway; a moment later, the remaining houseguests appeared.

“Morning, everyone.” Sasha seemed very refreshed compared to the previous night; Melanie and Georgie, standing behind her and talking quietly to each other, seemed maybe slightly less refreshed. When no one responded, Sasha’s cheeriness faded slightly. “Is—is everything ok?”

Elias took a deep breath and sat up; smiling, he set his now-empty coffee cup down on the side table. “Everything’s fine. We’re fine.”

Georgie yawned, having missed the nuances of the exchange. “Well—we were wondering—had anyone thought about breakfast yet?”

“Yes and no,” Elias said, standing up. “I thought about the fact that I hadn’t thought about it until this morning. I have some stuff here if anyone’s starving, but we’re going to need to go out before too long. There are a few small places nearby, but I’m thinking we’re better off going to the Sainsbury’s in town and stocking up. I can—”

“Georgie and I can do that,” Melanie said. “You’re letting us stay here, we can at least pitch in and help out with food.”

In the end, Melanie, Georgie, and Sasha all ended up leaving for the store, with plans to bring back several days’ worth of food. After they left, Elias, façade crumpling, turned back toward Jon and Martin.

“I’m sorry for—that. Before they came in. It’s very easy for me to think too much.”

Martin waited to see if Jon would say something, but he seemed very lost in his own thoughts.

“It’s—it’s all right.” He was, again, very aware of how little these words helped.

“I hope you don’t mind if I take a moment.”

“No. Not at all.”

“Help yourself to—whatever. Anything.”

“All right. Um—thanks.”

Elias stuffed both hands into his pockets as he walked out of the room, back toward the direction of his bedroom. He left his empty coffee cup sitting on the side table next to Jon, who remained sullen and withdrawn. If Martin could have easily reached over to touch his arm, physically remind Jon of his presence without disrupting his thoughts too much, he would have, but the couch was too far away from the chair.

He was pretty sure Jon knew he was there, regardless.

He turned back to his cup of tea. It had gone quite cold by now, but he drank it anyway.

#the magnus archives #tma #mag pod #tma spoilers #jonmartin #tma fanfic #my writing

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alpaca-writes · 3 years

Text

Mystics, Chapter 30

Sorry for the impromptu hiatus, I became pretty busy these last few weeks -and in addition I had little inspo to continue as of late- but never fear! Mystics is back on the road and I plan to finish the first draft of this story by the end of August! (Here’s hoping!)

Xx. - Alpaca

Read Chapters 1-29 and more HERE

Taglist: @myst-in-the-mirror, @livingforthewhump

CW: Not much to warn about for this one! Just some discussion of future mutilation to come :)

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CHAPTER THIRTY: VOW AND PROMISE

“He didn’t.”

“I am telling you, Persephone, Lyrem must have put Rosanna in the Labyrinth. Who else would have been so callous? So evil?”

“He would never,” she stamped her foot making her stance known. “Lyrem would have loved his own child more than life itself. I saw into his memories and I guarantee you, Charlotte, that it was my half-brother’s doing.”

Charlotte raised a finger toward the goddess. “Hold on- who is your half-brother?”

Persephone sighed and then muttered nearly out of ear-shot, “who isn’t my half-brother…”

Persephone took a step back. There was a lot that Charlotte didn’t know and in the midst of explaining the Pan/ Paimon conundrum, Charlotte stopped her.

“Arthur told me about the demon, Persephone.”

“He’s a diabolical thing- I call Pan a demon all the time”-

“No- Arthur thinks that Pan is a demon. He’s walking in there with holy water as a weapon and my crucifix in his pocket!”

Persephone’s eyes grew a little wider. “… Oh, oh right...” she peeped.

“So, what you’re saying is that my child is currently not just stuck with that venomous creep, Lyrem, but they are also being held hostage by a sadistic malevolent God,” Charlotte surmised, “and for some reason you and… Hades the God of the Underworld, sent my very mortal, very human brother to save them without any help at all?”

The booming voice of Hades came down from somewhere above to justify the logic of the situation.

“Well, you see, our souls are larger than the souls of mortal humans, dear little thing. It is easier for Pan to shut the door on beings like myself and Persephone. Mortals like you are like ants… or termites: they squeeze in through the cracks of our realms and cause a mess here and there without care for us. I gave Arthur just a touch of my power to stand a fighting chance of releasing Apollo from his prison there. Once he does, Pan will likely be unable to defend his claim on our territory.”

Charlotte narrowed her eyes. “Did you just call me a termite?”

Hades fell silent, using the fact that he was unseen to his advantage and pretended to have not heard the woman. Charlotte shook her head in the attempt to clear it.

“How can I believe that Pan won’t simply snap his fingers and kill Arthur? Or Arch? And what exactly is your goal here? To leave? Once you escape, how can I be certain that my child and my brother exit the Underworld alive?!”

“Once we are released, we will be allowed back into the Underworld, and we will punish Pan for his crimes against your family and humanity itself,” Persephone explained as Charlotte advanced on her like a predator. “Right, Uncle?”

“Of course,” Hades confirmed.

Charlotte took their words lightly, knowing she had little advantage in the position she held.

“I don’t trust you- either of you! You act as though people are just little toys- pawns to observe and to order around! Arch isn’t safe in your hands anymore than they are in Pan’s. Of that much, I am certain”-

“There’s no reason to further explain our position on the matter,” Hades boomed, sounding for the first time uneasy and somewhat offended. “Persephone, just ignore the termite. We shall wait for Apollo to open a way through for us.”

Persephone’s gaze fell from the woman and into the darkness as she battled her conscience. She opened her mouth to speak, and then hesitated, wondering if Hades was right; if she should listen to her uncle. She eyed Charlotte carefully as a pang of guilt struck her through like a sword. The mother’s anger was understandable. She had lost her child without any indication to whether they were alive or safe. The situation was strikingly familiar; Persephone found herself wondering if her own mother had tried searching for her, and fought gods with the same passionate rage as Charlotte was now. She would have been honoured if Demeter had done anything of the sort. Running away from Mount Olympus without a word to anyone was a very cruel thing to do- whether or not it was to a trusted family member. Persephone saw that now, clear as ever.

“Charlotte, Mother of Arch,” Persephone addressed her and then gulped. “You have my word that your family will be protected and will leave the Underworld unharmed”-

Hades’ voice came scolding from above. “Persephone…”

“-this I vow.”

From underneath the shoulder of her dress came winding down a string of vines.

“I serve my own essence as sacrifice upon the condition that”-

“Persephone!” Hades growled, interrupting her, “a deal such as this is not to be taken so lightly!”

Charlotte rose her head to watch the blooming white flowers spring from Persephone’s arm and grow down to her fingers with poisonous thorns to ward off any who would try to remove her power from her. The vines began to wither and die from her shoulders down, killing the flowers as Hades forced her hand. In a snap decision, Persephone plucked the last remaining flower from the tips of her fingers. Hades had tried to work quickly, but it was not enough.

“There!” Persephone grasped Charlotte’s hand, with her own, giving the woman the flower to hold. Now you can’t say anything, Uncle.”

Hades audibly huffed in disappointment. “You stupid child!”

Charlotte stared down at the flower, wondering what it all meant.

“Everything I am is in that blossom,” Persephone said boldly, and terrified, “If Arch is not returned safely to you and to Earth- if Arthur isn’t returned safely and to Earth, then… you can choose whether or not I continue living as a goddess.”

Charlotte blinked. She expected to have some sort of leverage- maybe get something in writing, but this was beyond what she had expected to receive as collateral.

“You can’t trust a mortal with your essence, Persephone!” Hades continued to berate. “They are sneaking, and conniving! You have no idea what this one will do with it!”

“She can’t use it, Uncle.”

“You don’t know that.”

“Then you had better help her save her child then, and her brother,” Persephone advised, feeling more powerful with every word, “otherwise, Charlotte will turn me into one of your loathsome termites… Won’t you?” she turned.

Charlotte cupped the flower gently in her hand, “what about Rosanna?”

Persephone nodded somberly. “We will try our best to help you find her as well.”

Hades was thankful yet again for his unseen nature as he contemplated what he would have to tell Zeus and Demeter about the poor decisions their daughter had made under his care. How did a simple Pan-esque prank become a life and death situation for a goddess? And for the sake of a few measly mortals, no less! There was nothing to be done about it now. Charlotte had Persephone’s essence in her hand. As he watched the women make their bargain with life, the flower petals melded into Charlotte’s palm.

It tickled, and then ached as the flower solidified beneath her skin. Charlotte felt the area, seemingly no different than before besides a small outline of the six petals. She looked back at Persephone, who was looking a bit humbled by the experience, and now seemed rather discouraged by the cautionary words spewed by her most trusted of family.

“Thank you,” Charlotte swallowed back any more show of emotion. “Now… Is there anything we can do to help Arch? To help Arthur?”

“No! We are stuck here until we have Apollo!” Hades grew sick and tired of repeating himself.

“Unfortunately, he is right,” Persephone concurred.

Charlotte huffed, with her hands on her hips, staring daggers at the goddess.

Persephone gulped, “but, we can start a plan to find Rosanna, I suppose.”

Charlotte nodded, “that’s better.”

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

Meanwhile, in the Underworld,

“Just relax,” Paimon crooned.

“Relax?! You lied to me. I’m not becoming any stronger, am I?” Arch’s anger was getting the better of them- overpowering even their fear.

“Now, now, I didn’t lie to you,” Paimon countered, controlling his own temperament. “I asked difficult things of you, and in return I promised to reward you. Doesn’t that seem fair?”

“Not when you can just take it away and give it back at will! Lyrem said you weren’t a demon either so what the hell are you?”-

“Lyrem says a lot of things. It does not matter- and it will not matter, very soon. Just relax, now.” Paimon held their shoulders down as Arch sat in the desk chair. Keeping them still was important. “I am not as talented in the memory department as most of my kin are, so if you struggle up here”- he tapped their forehead with a couple fingers. “-then I may take away your ability to speak, or dance, or enjoy rom-coms. That doesn’t sound very pleasant, now, does it?”

Arch glared at him with their jaw clenched tight. They held back.

“No,” they reluctantly agreed. “But… what if I don’t want to forget?”

Paimon tsked at them. “Nobody wants to forget,”-

“No, I mean,” they tried to clarify. Paimon looked like he wasn’t going to be willing to give them much time. “What if… I still want to work with you?”

Paimon stopped himself from raising his hand to their head. He looked at them skeptically and considered their words.

“Despite knowing what you know?” he asked.

Arch nodded.

“Look, I am pissed that you lied, but that doesn’t mean that we can’t make this work. I still want power, but I want to have a clear arrangement, you know?” They continued, noticing the change in Paimon’s demeanour. He was considering the offer. “I don’t want to be kept in the dark- if the power is yours and I borrow it from time to time, then I’m happy with that- I just want to know things.”

Paimon raised hand to his mouth and backed away to contemplate. Idly, he fiddled with the discman and headphone set on the desk.

“Just let me know things. That’s all I ask.” The voice repeated behind him.

“And what about our mutual friend?”

“Lyrem?”

Paimon nodded, turning to them.

Arch scratched at their nose.

“I think Lyrem needs to retire.” They stated.

“And… your uncle? Your mother?”

Their scratching nails found the back of their neck. They thought of Charlotte’s disappearance, and Arthur’s insistence to help them get out of the mess they had found themselves in.

But Arch knew better than to assume everything could return to normal. Uncle Arty didn’t know that what they had become. He didn’t know that they had started flaying people alive, and dismembering bodies, and removing human hearts to eat them. There was no way to go back to who they were. Not now. It was for the best if they became a distant memory.

“I never want to see them ever again,” they replied.

Paimon feigned a sympathetic pout and wrapped a comforting arm around their shoulder. No nails dug into their flesh, no threats followed, but instead-

“I promise, you’ll never have to see them ever again,” he spoke reassuringly, and then added, “Not if you do one last thing for me.”

Arch nodded, “alright, name it.”

“I have made a deal with Lyrem- he doesn’t believe you to be strong enough yet to take over for him when he is gone.” Paimon started. “If you can show him that you are skilled enough- ruthless enough- to replace him then his empire is yours- oh, and it will be mine as well, I suppose. I know you want everything to be straightforward.”

“Yeah, thanks.” Arch stood themselves up, and walked through the room. “And how do I prove myself?”

“You’ll carve out a heart for him,” Paimon grinned, “without any help, in under five minutes”-

“That doesn’t seem too hard”-

“-and blindfolded.”

Their dark brows knit together, suspiciously studying the satyr.

“Straightforward,” Arch broached. “Who am I carving?”

Paimon waved a hand. “Oh, there is need for you to be concerned with”-

“Is it Lyrem? I bet it’s Lyrem.”

Paimon paused, sighed, and cocking his head at them, he wagged his finger. “I told him you were quick!”

Arch shrugged with their usual sideways smirk.

“I am pretty smart, aren’t I?” they boasted. “Hey, can I listen to some tunes while I do it? Personally, I don’t like all the screaming and crying.”

Paimon picked up the discman without hesitation and handed it over to them.

Arch smiled, accepting it. “Cool.”

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villains-with-benefits · 4 years

Text

Playing the blame game, and other pointless endeavours

A reflection on BNHA Chapter 291

Before and after: or, How to violently radicalise an abuse victim in five easy steps

I think a lot of the people throwing blame around or trying to declare that one character or another is the One True Villain™ or the One True Victim™ need to stop seeing personal responsibility as a zero sum game, because it really isn't.

Arguing about whether Dabi and Endevour should each have 50% of the blame or if it's more of a 60/40 or 70/30 split (in either direction) is pointless. Endeavour is 100% responsible for his abuse of his family and general failings as a human being, and Dabi is 100% responsible for the lives he's taken and people he's hurt in retaliation because of it.

Sure these two things are absolutely related in that good ol' cause-and-effect sense, much like how an earthquake at sea will cause a tsunami. And much like them neither happened in a vacuum, the surrounding environmental conditions needed to be just right for a perfect storm of this magnitude to occur. It just so happens that in this case both the earthquake (Endeavour) and the tsunami (Dabi) are not faceless forces of nature, but human beings with superpowers who chose to take action based on their deep-set mental and emotional issues at everyone else's expense, either because they think their needs are more important, they think the price paid is worth being the means to the end or (most likely) a combination of the two.

Please note, I don't say this to excuse or condemn either character, the readers who are taking sides, or even Horikoshi's writing. It's pretty well established by now that one of the biggest themes in BNHA is that there is no perfect black and white when it comes to people and society and morality, and just about all the conflict is driven by just how badly their entire system (which is built and determined to die on that hill) messes it up for absolutely everyone on all sides. Saying Dabi is a Bad Victim while Shouto is a Good Victim is just as pointless, because you're missing that the real villain is their broken society, of which everyone is a victim, even Endeavour.

Again, Endeavour was the one to abuse his family and he gets no passes for that so don't even try to argue that's what I'm saying, but he didn't wake up one day and just decide to do it. If Chapter 291 has done anything it's shown how escalation is nine tenths of the law in cases like this. He was already an asshole narcissist with a raging inferiority complex, we've heard from his own POV in an earlier chapter that he purposefully chose Rei to have kids with to eugenics a solution to his problem, he was never an upstanding guy.

While we don't see Endeavour's own upbringing there's a reason he's been such a strong narrative parallel with Bakugou, so we can make an educated guess from what we've seen of his what it must have been like having a powerful Quirk and ambitions being fed by the people around him, and the way Bakugou has clashed with characters like Deku and Shouto when he was confronted with the reality that he wasn't going to get Number One effortlessly, we can guess how well he took realising he was always going to be Number 2.

Pictured: the hero equivalent of always the bridesmaid, never the bride.

At least with Bakugou's rivals they're his own age and acknowledge him as a rival, All Might is at least a decade older than Endeavour and he's always been a loner who didn't get to know his colleagues that well. As readers we know All Might keeps his distance because he's kinda awkward socially, and because between the threat of All For One and maintaining the flawless image of the Symbol of Peace he wasn't ever able to let his guard down or it might risk people's safety. But just like Bakugou assuming Deku was looking down on him, from Endeavour's perspective it probably looked like All Might was looking down on Endeavour too.

Again, not excusing Endeavour. He's an asshole and needs to be held accountable for his actions. But just like Bakugou he didn't spring fully formed from the womb as an asshole, sure he had all the ingredients for it but their society is what decided it was a good idea to put the lime in the coconut and mix it all up, just like he's the one who broke Touya which ultimately led to the creation of Dabi.

Which brings us back to Dabi not just calling out his abusive dad but making a spectacle of it, and while again, yes, he's done a lot of murder and that's not okay either, he is absolutely justified in this. Especially because the part of his reasoning for his actions which isn't just maniacal laughter (also totally valid) is that he's correctly identified, much like Shigaraki, that while specific individuals have hurt them and must pay for it, that the overarching problem is hero society itself.

Shigaraki attacked All Might at first because Sensei said so, but later on because he was the symbol of everything he felt wrong with society, everything he's done has been to attack the pillars of the hero system like All Might and UA. Dabi attacked Endeavour, his abuser, but not just physically attacking him as a man and a father, but by attacking his reputation as the Number One Hero and the new pillar of society.

Pictured: an asshole who's realising that no matter how badly you think you done fucked up, another asshole can always come along and point out just how much worse it actually was than you thought.

Endeavour's sin was always acting as a hero first and a father second, if ever, and even then it was usually still to further his own ego and ambitions, which was tied so tightly to his role as a hero that Endeavour pretty much didn't exist outside of that. So Touya with his healthy sense of dramatic irony is naturally retaliating by treating him as a hero first and a father second, if ever, because that's the standard of behaviour that Endeavour himself set. Before discarding him for the new model he made it clear he wanted his son to be powerful, aggressive, independent, and to take down the Number One Hero without regard for anything else, and that's exactly what Dabi is doing. He's giving Endeavour exactly what he wished for and is making him choke on it.

Just like he said, Touya's making sure Endeavour reaps exactly what he sowed because it proves his point, that if he hadn't been such a violent, toxic narcissist none of this would be happening. His desire to call out his abuser is both personal and justified (regardless of how he's going about it), and it shouldn't be condemned because it has nothing to do with his family. His family, who he was the scapegoat of and who he hasn't seen in probably around a decade, and who are still keeping silent about the abuse even though as far as they know it killed him. I'm not saying he hates the rest of his family like he hates Endeavour (though it probably comes closest with Shouto, there's a lot to unpack there) but it would be a very complicated web of love and grief and resentment and guilt that he'd need a weapons-grade therapist to unravel, which he's clearly never gotten considering this is how he's dealing with the trauma.

tl;dr Touya is a victim just like Shouto, and all the awful things he's done as Dabi don't detract from that, just as his victimhood doesn't excuse his actions either.

In conclusion, you don't have to reconcile or find explanations or excuses for Endeavour's abuse or how any of the other Todorokis have been dealing with it, especially Touya. They are all established facts and exist as objective truth regardless of our feelings on the matter. Instead of making moral judgement on the characters (or the readers who love them/hate them) maybe we all need to stop and think about it critically first, especially when chapters are still incoming and we don't even have the full story yet.

If we can all spend some quality time thinking objectively about all the sides of the story and what lessons we can learn from them, I can guarantee that little things like 'having compassion', 'listening to victims and survivors before they have to resort to domestic terrorism to be heard' and 'learning from the mistakes of the past' will get us all much better results than just sharpening some pitchforks, no matter who they're pointed at.

#bnha manga spoilers #bnha 290 #bnha 291 #dabi is todoroki touya #dabi #endeavour #shigaraki tomura #todoroki shouto #hero society #bnha meta #bnha analysis #bakugou katsuki #how to violently radicalize an abuse victim in five steps or less #i get that endeavour is a bastard and it's satisfying to dunk on him don't get me wrong #but there's enjoying the glorious schadenfreude and then there's ripping into other fans for not agreeing with you on exactly how to do it

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capriccio-con-espressione · 5 years

Text

N(oona) C(raving) T(endencies)

This is my 3k words of analysis of NCT members who I think are likely to have a noona kink based on the ask. Enjoy!

Disclaimer:

By this I am not saying that other members not mentioned here don't have any possibility to date an older female/enjoys referring to their dommes as noona, it's just like the tendency/preference isn't that clear or obvious in my opinion. Do not send in rude comments just because you disagree though I will appreciate some feedback.

Warning: Sub!Taeyong, Sub!Jungwoo, Sub!Mark, Sub!Xiaojun, Sub!Jaemin, Domme!Reader, Femdom, Noona kink, Degradation, Whipping, Spanking, Pegging, Public humiliation, Role-play, Oral sex, Sex toys, Dry humping, Dildo riding, Mentions of mental health issues/negative emotions

Taeyong

This boi is insufferably kinky and subby

In Baby Don't Like It he stated he likes it rough

In Whiplash he literally emphasized again how much of a painslut he is

And his ideal type is “Someone who can teach me, lead me, and make up for my flaws.”

To conclude this, Tyongie may be craving for a strong, mature female's guidance when he's lost and insecure, a noona domme who can heal all the anxiety, stress and inner guilt he's been through by her ruthless discipline, plus, the age hierarchy implied in the title will allow him to sink into his headspace even more.

He's such a sucker for this torment that, with one stern look from you, he will automatically strip naked and ready himself in the humiliating positions assigned by you before without any spoken command, and obediently waits for the first slap/whip while trembling in both anticipation and thrill

I can totally picture him begging his noona for more punishment, though already red, sore and sobbing

"...Ahhh noona I'm sorry... *sniffles* please punish me more for being a bad, ill-mannered boy...don't stop mmmff-"

However, that being said, if that noona domme is actually younger than him, he may be down for the added humiliation due to the role reversal

Imagine that younger domme dismissively orders him to call her "noona" in public, and commands him to use honorifics to speak to her, the exact type and wording that make him sound humbled…

He will be turned on by that while people around you shoot puzzled gazes toward you as they wonder why the hierarchy dynamics aren’t in the right place, making Taeyong feel embarrassed as well as aroused

By the way, some role-plays can be added to spice up your sex lives as well, e.g. CEO x employee, professor x student, guard x prisoner, to name a few, as long as you are in power and makes sure to beat the naughtiness and disobedience out of him

Though being intensely kinky during the session, aftercare for this precious boy has to be really fulfilling as well

So you have to be able to play an attentive caring role just like a noona (a little bit maternal figure as well, I have to admit)

Make sure the process is all intimate and brimming with praises, reassuring the broken figure that the "bad boy" is "forgiven" to thoroughly sew up his wounds

Bubble bath, scented candles with calming aroma, sensual massage with essential oils of his favorite scent and texture, or having some good quality snacks while cuddling, are all good options for aftercare because all of them can reinforce the idea that he’s “worthy” of anyone’s love and attention due to the physical contact and interactions allowed in them

So steamy and sensual that if done correctly, Taeyong may be in the mood for another round of vanilla sex to get an extra gratifying orgasm again

Jungwoo

A clingy little pup that will follow you around and will cutely pout when not given enough attention or skinship

Loves to be babied and taken care of, so he would love the accompany of a sweet caring noona to make him feel at ease (borderline mommy kink as well)

Remember that Valentine's Day Facetime vid where he just referred to the viewer insert as "noona"? That probably implied his preference for an older female figure

Will do anything to please you since he's very love-starved and doesn't want you to feel uncared for because he knows too well how much that sucks, he will shower you with the same amount of affection he expects from you as well

Anxious and always worries about if he's still "needed", so that's why he will opt for a perspicacious noona to counsel him for his delicate soul to rely on, and shower him with the adequate amount of love then pamper him

Melts at cute pet names such as pup, angel, prince, little fairy, snoopy or any endearing terms because they make intimacy upgrade to another level

May act a bit playful or even borderline bratty from time to time, mainly to spice things up and get some sexy punishment to release his excess nervousness

But hardcore stuff definitely isn't for him, since the soft boy can't tolerate much pain.

Light impact play on his erogenous zones is fine, but he enjoys the feelings of vulnerability and exposure more rather than the pain itself

The type to let out loud moans even when just getting his underwear peeled down because the instant when the air hits his flesh is a huge turn-on for him, so much to the extent he is yearning to beg you to fuck him just from getting naked

Very sensitive, literally gasps, squirms and grinds every time when you caress or slap his sweet zones and will beg you to stop though you know he's enjoying it too much

Will repeat your title like a mantra as if it's the only thing that can keep him sane

Be wailing like "Hnnngh noona pretty pleeaase stop spanking me ahhh noona no I'll be a good boy pleaseee it stings noona I'm sorryyy hahhh" but the way how his hips rock against your lap will betray his words, giving you more reason to torture him

Loves being pegged and used, or getting his all possible sensitive spots stimulated and stuffed at once because he just lusts after every inch of his body being thoroughly pleasured inside-out, and drown in the depths of overstimulation and hedonistic ecstasy to feel completely loved and secured

Edging is really suitable for this delicate boy because of the enhanced experience after prolonged denial, which makes the orgasm more earth-shattering than ever

Though he will be a teary puddle and begs you to end the ordeal, the uncertainty and feebleness associated with edging will turn his mind into a soaring frenzy state even more, enabling him to release all his pent-up frustrations and negativity while finally allowed to empty his balls

Likely to get emotional and will hold on to you very tight during post-climax aftercare due to the intense sensation that just washed through his mind and body, feeling extra fragile and really needs to be thoroughly cared for

Petting his head, kissing his tears away with "I love you"s constantly coming out of your lips is a must, as he drifts to sleep like a fallen angel nestled in his safe space, which is the warm spot between your chest and your arms

Mark

An easily flustered mess when it comes to straightforward proactive girls

Having left his family and devoted himself to the industry at such a tender age, he may want to be the more passive, dependent one in a relationship to make up for his lost adolescence

So he's probably looking for someone who he can rely on and takes the initiative in bed, while all he has to do is to close his eyes and enjoy himself

When he finds you, to whom he trusts enough to pour his doubts and perplexion about life, and is always guaranteed to receive some really thoughtful response, he sees you as someone very valuable.

But more than that, you are a woman who seems to have endless fuel of passion, the exact type with whom Mark can replenish his strength when he got engulfed by the abyss of stress

Also, you are notably witty with words that sometimes aids his lyric writing process, but that means he can never win against you in any friendly bickers as well, especially when you cite some of his lyrics to roast him that renders him speechless.

Yet somehow, he gets hooked to the feeling of being a powerless flustered bundle in front of you

Gradually it develops into dirty imagination of you manipulating him into a mindless mess

And you are exactly the burning blaze that will scorch his body with vehement desires, make him so depraved yet still internally demand more

Never did he realize that being obedient for a noona figure will feel this good until he met you, his ideal match

You will guide him how to touch himself properly like a big sis, then demonstrate it yourself followed by some edging, as he whimpers at the sense of loss every time his build-up is ruined, pleading you with those big puppy eyes

And when you get to peg him, he will love the feeling that he's completely owned by you, getting his ass spanked while fucked also serves as a good reminder of who he belongs to

Doesn't talk much during sex to indulge fully. Expect some incoherent moans and weak chants of your title from him instead

But the boy also knows how to reciprocate when he's ordered to. He knows how to work that rapper tongue too well even if his brain is not fully functioning

His tongue can do wonders to your folds and is guaranteed to perform great with your strap in his mouth, looking up at you with those pretty doe eyes all the time to see if you like how he's doing

Will probably require some time and space for himself to just chill and cool down during aftercare instead of being very clingy, all you need to do is to make sure he’s comfy, or place a glass of drink he likes beside him while he’s organizing his thoughts or doing anything that fits his mood.

No extra words or skinship is needed at this moment because based on your understanding and observations of him, he’ll be fully recharged when you decide he is most of the time

Xiaojun

A sensitive, sentimental bub that ponders a lot about lots of things

Passionate about music, and perhaps some classic literature or philosophy

So he may want his partner to share the same interests so he can love the way she wanna talk even more

Likely to crumble for a woman who’s sophisticated, cultured and speaks in a refined manner, and is often willing to discuss some profound matters with him, to the extent sometimes Xiaojun cannot keep up easily and may feel a bit flustered, but is secretly admiring her wits deep down while she’s patiently explaining some new art concepts or ideas to him

Hence, when he finds you, who is capable of playing that role and opening up new worlds to him, he is not only delighted but also excited and intrigued, anticipating every chance to talk to you more but when he finally seizes the opportunity, he will appear to smile shyly, avoiding your gaze all the time but whenever he slightly peeks at you, his eyes will be glittering with dreamy haze of enchantment

Because to him, knowledgeable women seem to have boundless potential that makes them distinctively mysterious as well as alluring, and he’s all about succumbing to that vast endearing wilderness, with you being the compass controlling his every move (lowkey sapiosexual I guess)

The fact that you are the embodiment of versatility, artistic grace, and mellow charisma, yet all cordial to him just like a jiě jie (noona in Mandarin) next door will flutter his heart as he falls for you even more

So once you finally end up in bed, he will be very enthralled and eager to please, and will literally subserviently worship every inch of your body as if you are a Goddess while complimenting you all the time

Yet not long after he will be amazed by another fact about you, that is, you are the definition of the saying “Sweet in the streets, freak in the sheets”

Xiaojun will soon find himself restrained while bent in compromising positions, with toys he never imagined a sweet person like you will ever own torturing his body and lust-crazed soul, as you whisper nasty degrading things to him, skewing and corrupting some classic literary works during the process, which makes him intoxicated in another sinfully imaginative aspect of your mind

Since he’s a sucker for anything about you, neglect play is a perfect way to torment him.

Chain him up and place a toy on him, which can be either a vibrator or a prostate massager, before leaving him untouched, and watch him writhe and moan helplessly in unsatisfied heat, with his distinctive brows furrowed, eyes glossy with plead and need, a beautiful image perfect to be ruined

Open to lots of kinks since you are able to make them gratifying and mind-blowing every time as he becomes closer to your ideal notion of subby boy toy with every progress

Will still remain a blushy mess when ordered to beg or admit something humiliating even after getting fucked multiple times, though he likes it so much

Something simple and lewd like “jiě jie please come in and fuck my slutty hole” “My pathetic dick only exists to be ravished by jiě jie” works well for him as he finally climaxes

This precious pretty boy is not all passive when receiving aftercare. Instead, he will sensually plant kisses all over your body while telling you how good you made him feel and how deeply he loves you

Melts and buries his face into the crook of your neck or sheets later on when you say the same back to him and praise him for taking you so well

Few moments of silent bliss will pass between you before you guide him back to reality again

Jaemin

Another little painslut that wishes to be tamed and roughed up

His tolerance of pain may not be as high as Taeyong, but he likes the humiliation as much as the older does

Being an idol is stressful and suppressing, so he desperately needs to find some release through some pleasurable pain for the endorphin rush

Preferably receiving it from a noona-like figure who definitely knows what she’s doing, and again the hierarchy from her title will enable him to feel floaty and more deserving of the punishment

He’s the type to be horny really often and does barely anything to hide it, qualifying him as a very communicative, responsive and expressive sub

So he acts up all flirty and bratty in front of females who he deems as potential targets, to evaluate who’s probably sadistic enough to cater to his needs judging from their reactions, and of course, your dismissive attitude and sharp chastisement on his behavior intrigue him

Then he will make a further approach to gain your attention, from unsolicited winks and aegyo to cheesy pick-up lines, even going as far as some skinship that you are smart enough to know how intentional it is, all screaming brat demeanor that gets you irritated and riled up

Once he finally successfully gets you to bare his bottom and bend him over your lap, he’s a mesmerized moaning mess while enjoying basking in your tauntingly degrading words, admitting he’s noona’s dimwitted slut even before you ask him that

But of course, a sound spanking is still not enough to quench his submissive needs, he will literally shamelessly beg for more

In a provocative way

He will blatantly seduce you, from inappropriately touching you to straight-up humping you until you lose it to punish him for being obnoxiously needy, tying him up and dishing out toys or other implements that can deliver even more intense pain

At first, he will feign reluctance by pouting or complaining how much it hurts even though it’s still far from what he is able to take, in order to infuriate you and provoke more out of what you can give him

Being insatiable as he is, after some pain inflicted on him, he will reveal his true masochistic self and directly asks you to punish him harder just like Taeyong will do, but Jaemin’s self-degradation will be much more hardcore and a bit creative

“Noona please do it harder! Ahh- I’ve been badder than that! Make your naughty indecent-minded whore cum just by paddling me because I’m that pathetic mmmff-”

When you are dicking him down, he will beg you to destroy his hole and be really graphic about it, making his intentions of wanting you to abuse him like a fucktoy utterly clear to drive you wilder, with that iconic blissful smile plastered on his pretty features

He will be obsessed with your powerful strength while ramming into him so much that he will masturbate by riding a dildo while moaning loud enough for you to take notice and break into the room

After you are pissed that he’s playing with himself without your permission, he will be all like “But I missed noona’s big mighty cock so much that I can’t wait hnnnghh noona please come punish my horny hole and make it so swollen and sore that it won’t whore up ever again pleeaaseeeee”

You will definitely be so sexually active and satisfied with him as your sub because of his neediness and salacious talk to ignite your dominant desires

Even though he enjoys getting fucked all over to earn some revival to his work-drained soul, and appears to recover really quickly after orgasms, even capable of engaging in some playful conversations with you, it’s still likely for him to feel hollow and internally worn out due to the drastic neurochemical change but he won’t make it obvious

So you will need to be really observant and keep reassuring him for his well-being because all the excessive stress he’s been struggling through that makes him this submissive is stemmed from his desperate needs for praise and recognition

That’s also one of the reasons why I think he will be into a noona domme because approval from superiors is relatively more rewarding

But with proper aftercare, he’ll stay hooked to you and continue to pleasure both himself and you with matching kinky desires

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ghostmeep · 4 years

Text

Overall, I like Sonic’s reactions to what is happening in the IDW Zombot arc.

So i’m late to be commenting about issue 24, but like?? Looking back and seeing some peoples thoughts on it? I’m a bit confused? Mostly on all the animosity to the latest arc. I mean, some I agree with (like how Shadow and Eggman are being handled) And sure if all this angst isn’t your cup of tea that is valid.

But one thing I can’t agree on at all is when people say Sonic is showing lack of remorse for his actions?

I, for the most part, agree that Sonic screwed up and this Zombot infestation is pretty much due to his actions - But Sonic knows that too. And to me he also shows plenty moments of regret? And he does it in character, and full of imperfect moments that really makes him seem like a full character.

This is going to get long, just a warning. But also has lots of pictures

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

Letting Eggman live without supervision and especially letting Metal Sonic go was all what led to this disaster. (he’s not the only one at fault imo, but talk for another post)

But Sonic absolutely thinks it’s his fault, and is constantly showing remorse.

He’s just doing what he can to not let the situation get to him, because what the world needs right now isn’t a remorseful Sonic, it’s a Sonic that is always on his feet and able to handle all the bad guys.

Everyone literally needs Sonic to be acting the way he is???

In the game Sonic Forces, it was outright said how Sonic was the people’s hope. And I believe that’s true for the comics as well. How demoralizing would it be for people if Sonic of all people got all down and drowned in self-pity? Sonic is an iconic figure in his world, and that means he needs to put up a front. He can’t just break down in front of people.

He can’t break down completely at all, because there is no guarantee that he’ll be able to pick himself back up in time.

He says it himself.

Sonic not getting down on himself is half the battle. He knows this. The mental fight is huge.

And I get that people just want to see a little more remorse from Sonic and for him own up to his actions - but to me he is????

The only reason he keeps saying how ‘I did the right thing by giving Eggman a second chance’ is so he won’t slow himself down. I don’t think he wholly believes that he made the right choice, and I don’t think he is trying to shoulder off the blame. He’s just trying to keep his spirits up as best as he can.

You can’t tell me this isn’t remorse

Yes, he shakes himself out of it and goes on to say how he made the right decision, but what else can he do???? He needs to snap himself out of it and get back to saving the world.

Because just look at this. This is exactly what happens when Sonic starts to doubt himself.

He stands there and debates and can’t take any real action.

And we know that he isn’t the type to normally doubt what to do. He would have 100% barged in and did what he could to save any potential survivors and work it out from there.

The only reason he stopped and debated there shows just how badly this whole thing is affecting him.

“Which is ‘right’?” -- This is what he asks himself because he is starting to think that the decision of leaving Eggman free was ‘wrong’ before. And he does’t want to make another ‘wrong’ decision.

And he does blatantly admit that he is screwing up left and right. And he does it during the only time he can -- when he is by himself.

I mean, look at that. Look at how much of him is shiny and metal and how he is surrounded by Zombots. The colouring itself is even so bleak to show his mood too.

He can’t say these thoughts in front of anyone. He can barely say these thoughts to himself.

Because what happens while he is saying this? He is literally sitting there as the virus takes over and Zombots surround him.

His eyes have even turned red like the Zombots by this point. - they were green in the panel just above. If he sat around a moment longer he probably would have been completely infected.

And he honestly looks super close to giving up here. Just look at him. He’s tired. He’s tried of running, of all things, and he’s tired of messing up.

But giving up isn’t what heroes do, isn’t what Sonic does, so he does what he can to snap himself out of it.

What more do people want??????????

I’m honestly curious here. This is pure Sonic regretting his actions and making up the resolve to do something about it. I don’t know how more remorseful he can be.

Let’s look at his encounter with Espio

Sonic’s first reaction is to attempt to comfort Espio. But then Espio - completely understandably since he lost his family - loses his cool and blows up at Sonic.

And look at the progression of Sonic’s expressions. He is worried, shocked, and then angry. His next words are said as a result of Sonic losing his own control. Because he literally only just got over his own moment of sorrow, and he just made up his mind to be strong and focus on what he can do in the here and now. And yet here is a friend throwing what Sonic already knows into his face only moments later.

So what does Sonic do? He just says what he has been chanting to himself all this time. That he wasn’t wrong to give second chances.

Because it’s pretty much the most he can to keep himself going.

Again, just look at his expression. This isn’t the face of someone who is acting all haughty. It’s the face of someone barely keeping it together. Yes, this is not a good reaction from Sonic. I don’t think it is meant to be. He is just reacting emotionally. Because it’s been a long long couple of days, and Sonic can only stand so much. Not to mention, Sonic has not been able to sleep or rest since he got infected.

And side note, but Sonic isn’t really wrong. Exactly how many friends and allies of Sonic started off as antagonists???? From Knuckles to Shadow. Second chances are sometimes for the better.

And letting Metal Sonic go was ---- a lot. But we saw Gemerl, another one of Eggman’s robots, change. So why can’t Metal Sonic? At that moment Sonic believed that Eggman wouldn’t be able to influence Metal Sonic and make him dangerous, so what was the harm from that viewpoint?

But anyways, back to Sonic and Espio.

We get this pause where the two just looks at each other before mutually deciding to end the argument and go back to saving people.

To me it’s clear that while the argument wasn’t exactly settled (we can see Espio still angry as he poofs away) but they both realize that yelling at each other isn’t going to solve anything.

This wasn’t a typical comic ‘I’m too cool for emotions’ moment where they disregard emotions in characters. The exact opposite really, because these two completely lost themselves for a moment due to all the stress they’ve had. They just realized that they needed to get their prioritizes in check right now and they can’t let their emotions run rampant because then nothing will get done.

It’s going to build tension and I can see this blowing up again, but they way they reacted is just so believable to me. They are both under a lot of stress, and they are lashing out. Who wouldn’t if they were in their shoes?

Then we get Sonic seeing his friends again. And instead of the boost he usually gets from them, it’s just more sadness as Sonic has to inform them that he failed them. Again.

Sonic can’t even bring himself to look at Tails directly. He’s so full of guilt. And look at Tail’s face. I highly doubt that Tails really believed that Sonic just had the recorder hidden. But it was his last bit of hope so he asked.

But Sonic has to let his best bud down once again.

Look at this moment where they are all just silent.

No one can say anything at the moment because they know just how bad the situation is.

And then oh boy, Tangle.

Sonic only moments ago said to himself how he keeps screwing up, Espio rubs salt into his wounds, he sees Cream of all people lifeless, and he let his buddy Tails down. And now this. One after another there is constant hefty reminders that Sonic screwed up.

And I want to point out - this isn’t how Sonic fights?? He doesn’t stop fighting to talk. Here he is letting a Zombot come up behind him and Tangle is the one to knock it out. But usually Sonic is moving while he is talking. Here, and with Espio, he isn’t. And I think that just adds more to how weighted down he is by all that is happening. Because again, he can’t take the actions he usually would because of all the guilt.

But Tangle is such a breath of fresh air for Sonic

Finally Sonic gets the reassurance he needs. Tails - the wonderful friend that he is - tries, but it isn’t really believable when he has tears streaming down his face.

Sonic needed someone telling him it wasn’t his fault. I don’t think Sonic completely believes it, he is still full of guilt, but it must have been so nice to have someone show such unwavering support for him at this time. Like I said, a breath of much needed fresh air.

For the readers too. Please tell me I wasn’t the only one who smiled when Sonic and Tangle team up. Look at them

And Tangle is able to comfort Sonic not only mentally - but physically too.

When was the last time Sonic touched someone that wasn’t a robot????

Sonic is all about freedom - but he is all about his friends too. We saw Sonic team up with his friends one after another before this arc started. And he welcomed it. He invited each one (Tails, Amy, Knuckles) to come with him as he went to destroy more badniks, despite that meaning he wouldn’t be able to just run as fast as he wanted when going from place to place. Because he really likes teaming up with people too.

And this whole mess is just preventing him from leaning on his friends for support like he usually could.

Thank you Tangle for giving this poor boy a hug.

But that breath of air Sonic got didn’t last long. Because now he has to report to the rest that he failed again.

And then this

Not only is he seeing another friend suffer because of his failure, but he can’t do anything to make it better. Amy is directly asking him for help - and he can’t.

He can’t do anything in this situation that won’t make things worse - and that has to hit hard for Sonic.

And finally we get this

This just really hits home that despite Tangle’s upbeat attitude and how she lifted Sonic’s spirit for a bit - it didn’t magically make everything better.

Because reality is still bleak, and Sonic still blames himself no matter what Tangle said before. We can’t see his expression, but it isn’t hard to imagine him regretting everything that happened.

He’s alone - again - with the one person that gave him that moment of refresh is a Zombot, and he can’t do anything but watch as they retreat. And it’s all his fault and he knows it.

It’s not like he ever said ‘Yeah, you’re right Tangle. None of this is my fault.’ All he said in that conversation was ‘You aren’t going to let this go’ and ‘Yes ma’am’ in response to the less moping and more moving. That to me isn’t anywhere near Sonic feeling he is absolved from guilt.

---

And yeah. I really can’t read through this and see Sonic as someone brushing off responsibility and not showing remorse. Sonic has been through a lot and we see him going up and down with his thoughts. And it’s getting harder and harder to keep his positive attitude.

I hope that this got someone to see why I feel like Sonic has shown enough remorse over what is happening. - And that is really all this post was about (though I admittedly got distracted at some parts) I wasn’t trying to say that this arc is perfect, but at the very least, Sonic absolutely feelings guilty.

I’m just going to end with one more screenshot. Just look at Sonic’s expressions

#idw sonic #idw sonic spoilers #sonic the hedgehog #sonic #my stuff

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stvlti · 3 years

Text

Fic Writer Interview

I piped up when @kiseiakhun did theirs so now I gotta pay for my hubris (but also, it's fun! Thanks for going out of your way to re-tag me!)

Name(s): stvlti (tumblr), stultiloquent (ao3)

Fandoms:

Actively writing for: DCU - comics and also related media, by which I mean of course Young Justice the cartoon and somehow also the Titans TV show. I never expected I'd write for a live action TV show series but hey, 2003 Teen Titans were my roots and Titans is a close relative. (Funnily enough I haven't actually seriously written for TT, but it's all about NTT and its derivative works)

Older fandoms on my AO3: Black Mirror: Bandersnatch, Noragami, Death Note

Where you post: AO3 is where I literally archive all my fics that see the light of day, drabbles and crackfics alike, but sometimes they get posted on Tumblr first (especially if it's to fill a prompt) and then make their way over to AO3 for reposting

Most popular multi-chap (by kudos):

Discounting "if you can't summon your own tentacles" (which is more a two-parter that was written as a one-shot), I don't have an answer for either "Overall" or "This year" for this one because I have in fact only ever written one (1) multichap fic since moving to AO3 (we don't talk about the dark days on Deviantart) and said multichap fic isn't even close to within the top 10 most kudos'd fic on my account. That plus it's an RPF from my teenaged years that I really don't wanna plug on main because I don't want y'all to read that shit (it's RPF, come on)

Favourite story you’ve written so far:

I can't answer for "Overall" (cause I feel like I'd be forgetting and therefore neglecting a portion of the stories I've got in my portfolio over the last 8 years), but for "This year" it is in fact my latest entry, "Transference"! I was quite proud of the comfort zones I tested with that one, I pushed myself to write more than 2 character povs for a single piece (my record had always been 2 but in that fic I was juggling 3 - almost 4 character perspectives), plus it gave me an excuse to play around with narrative structure which is always a Thing I'm nerdy about

Fic you were nervous to post:

Cool cool cool so I'm just gonna expose myself with this one, but it was actually the priest kink fic, "When I'm down on my knees you're how I pray". I wanted to contextualise Dick Grayson's guilt issues in a Catholic context as like a what-if, but I've also never been Catholic, wasn't raised Catholic, and it was somehow important to me that I didn't misrepresent the customs and rituals of Catholicism? Even though just writing the fic itself was already fundamentally disrespectful? Idk my brain works on weird logic.

btw if any of you wanna cancel me for this just block me and move on.

How do you choose your titles?:

The title is either based on the central theme / moral of the story, which will come to me as I write and is usually the case for fics I take more seriously, OR, if it's a ficlet I didn't put as much effort into and/or don't intend to show off, I'll usually pull from lyrics for a one liner that hits the emotional notes I'm going for in the story.

Do you outline?:

Almost always. The only fics I haven't outlined are spur of the moment things, stuff that's very focused on a single instance or thought without much plot or coordination needed.

Complete: 26 25 in total

not counting the ones I deleted or orphaned this year (again this number does not include my Deviantart stash shhhh those didn't happen)

In-progress: uh....3 4?

I'm kinda in between the research and planning stage for 3 different fics atm so idk if it's really in-progress in-progress... Those 3 fics aren't even set in stone, I might abandon them again like I did with one of these 3 (the dark academia au) 5 months ago (that I recently picked back up on the research front)

Yeah I forgot my Sladick fic is a 2-parter that I should probably work on and finish at some point 😬

Coming soon/not yet started: I think it's somewhere between 8 and 11

I just added 2 more to the list after Romin Week prompts dropped /sigh. But I really wanna test my comfort zone again and try writing the wilder stories for a change (it'll be fun though if I get around to it! Hopefully something BOP movieverse shaped if I'm lucky)

Prompts:

Sure, send them my way! I accept prompts, just can't guarantee I'll be able to respond speedily though cause I can't chain my muse to me and also real life happens, a lot

Upcoming work you’re most excited about:

Ooof idk if excited is the right word, try trepidation...I'm scared to mischaracterise our faves...but a BOP movieverse fic is probably going to be real fun! Just hope I can finish the research and writing in time for the event though

No-pressure tags:

See this is the real point of me asking to be tagged and filling this tag, cause I wanna pass it on to my writing mutuals in other fandoms. So @trans-l-lawliet @fantomn @mellonearyou @3dnygma , if you're listening,,,,

Also any other writerly friends or followers reading this and curious to try, please go ahead! Have fun with this!

#tag meme #long post #writerly tag

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adarlingwrites · 4 years

Text

Absolution

Summary:

noun: formal release from guilt, obligation, or punishment

The Capital Wasteland lauded the Lone Wanderer as a hero, a Messiah, a savior who's willing to give her life for the Good Fight. Beyond the legends, the propaganda, and the mythification that surrounded her legacy, there is only one person who knew her bare soul. She gave him his absolution, and now he will fight for hers.

XVI

December 28, 2277.

I landed on the gravel. The ringing in my ears made it hard to hear anything, and the blood in my eyes made it hard to see, but clear as day, Percy was screaming, kicking the merc responsible for shooting me in the back.

It must’ve hit my spine. I can’t move my limbs.

Straining, I tilt my neck to see Percy leaning against the wall for support, smashing her foot against the bastard’s face, stomping him over and over until his brain splattered on the floor. DeLoria was holding his head between his hands, distraught, and he heaved, puking his breakfast this morning.

“Shit…”

“Welcome to the fucking wasteland Butch,” Percy huffs, dragging the soles of her shoes to get the bits of brains out.

I roll my head to face the ceiling, silently thanking whatever the hell is watching over us for allowing me to see her safe one more time.

My eyelids are getting heavy. I’m fading.

The only thing keeping me was Percy’s voice.

“Charon, hang in there!”

“Percy, oh my God, he’s dying! What do we do?”

“Grab our gear, Butch. We gotta get him to a doctor.”

I feel weightless, surrounded by Percy’s familiar warmth.

“Shit, are you sure you can carry him all by yourself?”

“Just listen to what I say, Butch!”

“Wait, wait! Rivet City’s the other way around.”

“We’re not going to Rivet City.”

I was ready to go. There are not a lot of good things I’ve done in my lifetime, but protecting this angel? One of the best things I ever did.

“Help! Somebody help us!”

“Tourist? What the fuck happened?!”

“We got jumped…”

“Barrows! Charon’s dying!”

There are some regrets I have, like never figuring out what I really feel for her, or telling her how much I’m fond of her.

“Weak pulse… Blood loss is severe... we’re losing him.”

“Put us in with the Glowing Ones.”

“Radiation is harmful to you humans, and there’s no guarantee that it will help him.”

“Doc, please, just put us in.”

“Nurse Graves, chain the test subjects.”

Still, to spend my last few minutes in her arms would’ve been a consolation.

I would’ve been content dying now.

??? ??, ????

“Mama, where are they taking us?”

Her hands run through my hair, the metal of her handcuffs cold against my forehead, and hushes me.

“Stay quiet Artyom. We’ll be fine.”

“Really?”

“Yes. Please don’t worry, little one. Do you want me to sing to you?”

I nod. Mama starts singing the lullaby she usually sings to me.

Near the end, I understand why she loved singing it to me.

“Da, gotovyas v boi apasniy, pomni mat' svayu.”

I need to stay strong for her.

“Spi, mladyenets, moi prekrasniy, bayushki bayu.”

There’s only the two of us now my father’s gone.

The automobile stopped and the men in uniform made us step out. One of them rips me from my mother’s grasp and I start to cry, reaching for her.

“Artyom, I need you to stay strong until this is over. I’ll get you back.”

“That’s enough. The courts have determined that this child is under our custody now,” the big man in uniform tells her, and he blocked me from getting to her. Using both my hands, I reached through the man’s arm to grasp my mother’s hand, not wanting to let go.

“Mama? Mama, what’s going on?”

My hands slip from hers as I get grabbed by one of the men.

“The court’s decision isn’t final! I have a lawyer, and she will prove that what you’re doing is a violation of our rights! I’ll get my son back!”

“Until that can be determined in the next hearing, this child will be staying with us. Now if you’ll excuse us, Mrs. Volkov.”

I bit the hand that kept me away from my mother and ran to her, throwing myself against her leg. She ducked to give me a hug, the last one we’ll ever share, and guided me towards the big men in uniform.

That was the first and last time she ever hurt me.

“Artyom, I’ll look for you! I promise. Your Auntie Katya will help us.”

“Ma, I’m scared!”

“Stay strong for me, little one. I love you!”

“Don’t leave me!”

I never saw her again.

That night was the last time I ever heard my mother’s lullaby. In the cold cell they put me in, I cried on my cot, humming the song to myself.

Across me, a girl my age was standing behind the bars of hers, holding a teddy bear in one hand, and extending the other one to me. Her hair was the darkest shade of black I’ve ever seen, and her eyes are dark, hiding behind her glasses. A kind smile is on her face.

“Hey, big guy.”

I left my cot to reach out for her, our fingers touching.

“Stay with me.”

I blink, and my hands are big, with exposed muscle, joints, and tendons, and they’re touching the girl’s fingers. Now a woman’s fingers. Percy’s fingers.

“Charon, stay with me.”

I blink again, and I’m not in the detention cell anymore.

??? ??, 2277.

My hand flies to my face, and it’s no longer bloody nor wet with tears. I can move my limbs again. Rubbing my eyes, my vision’s starting to get clearer. I sit up, taking in my surroundings. It’s dark.

I can see Percy sleeping on the gurney next to me, breathing slowly, thanks to the soft green glow in the corner of the room. Her fingers are entwined with my free hand’s.

The radiation coming from the Glowing Ones comforted my insides, warmth seeping through my bones. Outside, I see Doctor Barrows observing us, writing something in his clipboard. He moves to turn on the lights in the room, and the door to the room clicks softly.

“Charon. I’m glad to see you’re awake. You’ve been unconscious for days. Your human friend brought you here to save your life,” he greets me.

“What day is it?”

“December 31st.”

“What’s Percy doing in here? The radiation will kill her,” I rasp, watching her sleeping form.

“Percy suggested that we put the two of you in this chamber. She’s healing from the radiation too. Look closely at her scrapes and wounds.”

I blinked at the doctor. My eyes flick to Percy, and in the dim green glow, I saw it; her skin knitting itself back together, the wounds that would take weeks to heal fading. Damn, there aren’t even scars.

I think of the pain I went through when I was turning. I wouldn’t wish that on her.

“Is she… is she starting to become one of us?”

“I’m afraid I cannot share patient information with you unless she consents.”

I nod.

Though we kept our voices low, Percy stirred awake, rubbing her eyes and reaching for her glasses. Then, she sat up and looked around, panicked. When her eyes flicked to mine, she drags herself off the bed and throws her arms around me.

“Charon, you’re okay,” she whispers, voice breaking. Her small hands pet what little hair I had on my head, and I can feel myself on the verge of crying again.

When did I ever allow myself to display this much emotion?

Travelling with her really changed me, huh?

Doc Barrows clears his throat. “I’ll go fetch the results of the tests I ran on you, Percy.”

“Thanks again for helping us, doc.”

“It’s my pleasure. Lots of people here would be sad to see you two go.”

Percy squeezes my hand. Sighing, she draws her legs to her chest, looking pensive. Then, we heard gentle knocks on the door.

“Come in,” Percy calls out.

Doc Barrows returns to the room, bringing the clipboard with him.

“Would you prefer some doctor-patient confidentiality, or are you comfortable with discussing this in front of Charon?”

Percy’s eyes flick towards me. “I have no blood relatives left, and Charon’s the closest thing I have to next of kin. If something were to happen to me, he should know.”

“Ah, yes. I’ve heard of the news about your father. My condolences, Percy.”

She nods.

“Thanks doc. I should probably write a will.”

“Yes, that would be wise. Now, where were we?”

Barrows flips through the paper, and beside me, I see the tenseness in Percy’s shoulders again.

“Ah, yes, the results. Persephone, your DNA has a mutation that makes your cells to heal continuously when exposed to a certain dose of radiation.”

“So, doc, does that mean I’m turning ghoul?”

“Surprisingly, no. You’re not exhibiting symptoms of ghoulification. I’ve never seen anything quite like this mutation… it’s almost like it’s engineered. Is there anything in your medical history involving radiation exposure that I should know?”

Percy furrows her brow, thinking.

“A few months back, I volunteered for an experiment while writing the Wasteland Survival Guide with Moira Brown. I, uh, agreed to intentionally irradiate myself to 600 rads. She made me take an experimental cure. More details about it are published in the book.”

Huh, I remember that. Percy was feverish for days after contracting an illness from the dirty, irradiated water she drank for the experiment. I thought it foolish, risking her health like that for a damn book.

“Do you have a copy with you?”

“No, sorry. It’s in Megaton. Moira said that she’s been selling copies to caravans though. Quinn might come across one.”

“I’ll make it a point to ask him to look for one. Thank you for allowing me to study your DNA, Miss Zhou. This might help my research on ghoul physiology.”

“I’m glad to help.”

The doctor turns to leave the room. With another soft click, the doctor closes the door behind him.

“I just lost dad. I thought I was going to lose you too,” Percy whispers against my shoulder, where she buried her face as soon as the doctor turned around.

I was going to embrace her too, but I remember what happened in the metro, the mercs forcing me to admit what my body felt for hers. She must’ve sensed my hesitation to touch her. Percy pulls away from me and gives me a concerned frown.

“Is there something wrong?”

“How can you still be comfortable to be around me after what you’ve heard me say in the metro?”

I cannot discern the emotion on her face, but Percy’s shoulders sagged. I know it’s not positive. But then, she gives me a hesitant smile.

“Charon… I always knew.”

What? What the hell?

“Hey big guy, my eyesight isn’t the best and I can be unaware of my surroundings at times, but I could feel your eyes linger on me more than necessary.”

She knew all this time?

Dammit. How fucking embarrassing.

“If you wish to sell my contract after this, I won’t hold it against you.”

Percy laughs, patting my shoulder.

“Ha, you’re not getting rid of me that easily. You’re a healthy and virile male, or what passes as such for a ghoul. It’s a normal physiological response, Charon.”

Spoken like a true doctor. Of course she’d be open-minded like that, what did I expect?

“Besides, though we’re friends, I’m your primary health care provider, and you’re my employee. It would be unethical to act on those urges… for the both of us.”

Oh. James’ words before he passed must’ve finally sunk in.

“Of course.”

Wait. ‘For both of us?’ A part of me thinks she sounds like she’s only trying to convince herself.

No. No, I shouldn’t allow myself to linger on such thoughts. James is right.

That’s out of the question.

February 9, 2278.

What do I plan to do about what I feel for her when she wakes up?

Now that’s a question I would’ve answered differently a few months ago. I would’ve said that I wouldn’t act on it. But now?

“I shall wait until she mentions something about it.”

DeLoria rolls his eyes. Anything he was about to say next was interrupted when the doors opened, and a distraught Dr. Li is following a fully conscious Sarah Lyons.

Shit. Here we go.

“Sarah, please, only your father is authorized to see her,” Dr. Li pleads, but to no avail.

“Why are you keeping her from the Brotherhood, doctor? What happened to Percy?”

“This is something I cannot share with you due to doctor-patient confidentiality.”

Butch and I got up from our spot and stood guard. Lyons sees us, fuming, glaring daggers at the doctor.

“How am I not allowed to see an honorary member of the Lyons Pride but outsiders can? Who authorized this?”

“Your father did,” Dr. Li said, massaging her temples. “This is a delicate situation for Persephone. For everyone. You didn’t see the episode her ghoul companion had when one of your initiates tried to separate him from her.”

“Right, of course,” she replies, looking at me with disdain. I hold her gaze as a silent challenge, and she tears it away from me, directing it towards Butch.

Part of me is thankful that Lyons didn’t say anything about what she witnessed before Percy ran in the purifier.

“And this kid over here?”

Butch scowls at her. “Hey! I’m not a-”

“I let him in because I needed someone to procure supplies that might not be available in the Citadel,” Dr. Li replies, eyes darting back and forth between the two of us. She’s lying, but it seems that the blonde isn’t picking it up.

“Uh, yeah! Yeah, I go to Rivet City sometimes to pick stuff up for the doc.”

Lyons sighs. “Just let me see her.”

Dr. Li nods grimly and motions for us to let her see Percy. Lyons shoves the plastic curtains aside and takes a long hard look at Percy.

“How?! I don’t understand. She looks fine for someone who… ”

“Sentinel Lyons, is there something I need to know as Percy’s doctor?”

“The explosion didn’t come from inside the purifier.”

Dr. Li’s eyes widened, sweating bullets. Butch was looking at Lyons with a raised eyebrow, but my eyes are locked on Li. I’m sensing that whatever she was hiding from me is related to what Lyons is about to say.

“The explosion came from Percy.”

If it wasn’t for the gravity of the situation and the fucking bomb Lyons just dropped, I would’ve laughed at the look of Butch’s face right now.

“How the hell is that possible?” Butch asks.

“Lyons, you just came out of a coma. Are you sure-”

“I know what I saw, Dr. Li. Percy was glowing green. Then a goddamn mushroom cloud erupted from her, like someone dropped a mini-nuke in the area using a Fat Man.”

Dr. Li’s groans and rubs her face.

“Please, let’s keep this confidential, Sentinel.”

“Confidential? She might be a safety hazard if she ends up exploding here in the Citadel.”

As the doctor and the sentinel argued, my eyes shifted to Percy.

Angel, what are you?

“Da, gotovyas v boi apasniy, pomni mat' svayu.” - Think, when bracing for fierce battle, of your mother true.

“Spi, mladyenets, moi prekrasniy, bayushki bayu.” - Sleep, my dear, beloved baby, bayushki-bayu.

I just wanna say that Nerd Rage and Nuclear Anomaly are very fun perks for roleplaying.

#lone wanderer #female lone wanderer #charon #fallout charon #charon fallout #fallout 3 charon #charon fallout 3 #butch deloria #oc: percy zhou #fanfic: absolution #series: through river acheron #fallout #fallout 3 #fallout fanfic #writers on tumblr

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lavenderhyrdrangea · 4 years

Text

Angel or Serpent

For the first time in his life, Zevran was ridiculously lucky. He had been spared a bloody fate and met a beguiling woman who offered him a hiatus from The Crows—She’d given him a second chance. Where was this sense of foreboding coming from then?

Ao3 link here or go continue to read below

Zevran had crows laying in wait for a taste of his flesh, and a siren in hot pursuit of his beating heart. Of the two, the latter kept him up at night the most. Her eyes playful yet her bearing strong-willed and hard-boiled, she was a force that never ceased. Every action she took was done so with purpose. For every question he asked she always had an answer. For every answer he gave she followed up with wave after wave of even more pressing questions. He tried to keep a steady footing around her but he failed each time.

Eventually he surrendered; he’d offered Ione the earring.

It was another evening beneath the stars for their party, huddled around a flame for warmth, food and conversation. Sten and the witch tucked themselves in early. Shale didn’t sleep but sought out the solitude of a tent nonetheless. Wynne wanted to sleep, however, her motherly nature had put her in charge of making sure Oghren didn’t finally impair his liver. Leliana and Alistair were deep in a game of Wicked Grace and Ione watched for the bard’s tricky hand.

“Stealing from a babe should surely give you some type of guilt,” she teased.

“Ah, now this is fascinating. You feel sorry for the young fellow? Toughen up. You’ll have to do a lot worse than pickpocket from a child’s coin purse if you intend to survive in house Arainai.”

Zevran always had to shove the distinct voice of Leonel, one of his mentors, back into a little box only for him to spring out, twisted grin upon his lips, like a child’s crude toy. Made sense. He was a joking man until the end. He’d been extra loud since Kinloch Hold.

“A babe? Well, you’ve got to have a little more confidence in me than that. Only a moron would strike out in Wicked Grace.” Alistair said as he gave his set of cards a thorough look over.

Leliana giggled. “See? No need to worry. Straight from the babe’s mouth himself. If it makes you feel any better I don’t intend on keeping any coin I earn here. I’m petty not cruel.”

“Right, this babe—wait! Stop it you two. I’m a perfectly grown man.”

Ignoring her fussy fellow warden, she addressed Leliana once more. “ It would be better for you play our resident assassin. He offers more of a challenge.”

Their eyes were on him then. He was laid out on the right side of his body, head propped up on his palm and the aforementioned piece of jewelry hot in the pouch on his left hip. His forefinger drummed along his thigh. While he had been waiting for her attention, this was not how he expected it to be given to him. The games could wait for another time.

“Ah, yes, but if I swoop in to serve as a distraction how will our dear babe ever learn how to play properly?

“You didn’t follow through. Should’ve known you wouldn’t. You are but a child yourself. A weak one at that.”

“Not. A. Babe.”

“I’m sure you are to someone,” Leliana commented much to Alistair’s discomfiture.

“He’ll manage. Why don’t you play a few rounds, Zev?” She stared at him as if she could will whatever she thought he was hiding out from his head. “You look awful bored.”

“Not bored, no. Restless. Perhaps I can walk you back to your tent, my dear warden.”

“Walk me to my...“ She turned around to make sure her tent was in the same place she’d set it minutes ago. “ I don’t intend on getting Oghren levels of intoxicated this eve. Why would I need to be escorted to my tent? More importantly how would that help you with your restlessness? Is there something in my tent that you desire?”

Sudden failure to call upon his sliver tongue rendered him a hedging mess. “ You never know. You can waltz in, ready to lay your head upon your bed roll only to find a treacherous snake resting there instead. I only wish to see that your are protected. Uh, that is only if you allow it.”

“Come come, where’s your nerve? I hear you’re suppose to be good at this type of thing.”

Leliana’s lips spread into a slow grin. “What is this? The mighty Zevran fumbling for words? You perform miracles not even the Maker is capable of my friend.”

Ione took this as sign of trouble and though she’d misread the situation he overflowed with thanks and an undying need to cling to her. She lead them away with the excuse of needing to give him a dagger that Leliana didn’t want. On the way in he noticed that the healer had taken a break from watching over a blabbering Oghren to throw them an admonishing glare. She would get over it eventually.

“Are you well?” Ione asked once she sat him down on a bedroll. “You’re free to speak about whatever here.”

“Are you in trouble? That’s entirely up to you. Come, I would like to play a game of Wicked grace but with a little more fun. Let’s ask the young barmaid to join us.”

The close quarters intensified the delightful aroma of the rosewater she used to sweeten her skin. Under normal circumstances, the scent would’ve drawn him to his knees, had him singing her praises and making promise after promise. Here, it only made him hyper aware of the weight of his words. One error would’ve caused him to sink. Or was that his nerves?

“Instead of betting something boring like gold, you’ll be betting your welfare. Five rounds. You’re options are to bet a game of Pinfinger, where you’ll lay your hand along the table and stab between your fingers in a rhythm like so. Or take the less unpredictable choice. Choose which part your least afraid of scaring and have at it. Obviously the losing hand is the one that follows through. If they get cold feet the winning hand does it for them.”

He opened the pouch and spoke of sentimentality and the dues he owed her. There had been no eager reaching for the earring on her part. Rather, with a tilt of her head she asked what it meant.

“You mean to ask what use it will provide? I’m sure it’s worth a small fortune. You may sell it if you like. Or if you find it looks beautiful on you—and I’m certain it will, my darling— wear it.”

“ You pay your debt with your blade and your time. Why give me your treasure? And why so out of the blue?” She tapped her temple. “There’s more going on in here.”

“There is one exception. If you’re able to achieve an Angel Suit Flush then all bets are off. No one has to be harmed. It doesn’t matter how many rounds deep your in. The winning hand is simply victorious.”

“To you, perhaps. There’s a need to repay you. Not just for sparing me and giving me brief respite from the Crows but for the boots and the gloves as well.”

She placed her hands on his shoulders and leaned in close enough for her lips to brush against his, for her to ensnare him yet again. Those carnelian eyes could convince him of anything.

“You let her win that round didn’t you? For what? What has she done for you that you would risk pain?”

“Give me more than your pretenses, Zevran.”

More, more, more. She was just being greedy, impossible even. Every other thing they came across in their travels was taken, no question asked, yet his gift was met with suspicion. Perhaps in the back of her mind, she still believed he was out for her blood.

He attempted a genuine laugh despite the angry twinge in his chest. “ Everything is a puzzle to be solved with you.”

Try as he might, Ione heard the bitter undertone. She whipped her head to the side as if she’d been slapped but recovered and refixed her attention upon him. This time she cupped his face.

“This is our last real breather before we battle the Archdemon. If there’s something you mean to say you must say it now. There’s no guarantee that we’ll make it out alive.”

“Demonstrative gestures at the very last second are pointless; they will mean nothing.”

“You don’t believe that!” Realization settled over her features for a split second. Too loud. "You wouldn’t be trying to give me that earring if you did.” she hissed.

“ Tsk, tsk, tsk. You’re three and 0, boy. The game is about lies and deceit. What assassin do you know is incapable of lying?”

A sigh left his lips. She was a current pushing him further away from land.

“You say we are pressed for time, yes? Turn in for the night. Clear your mind. There are other things for you to focus on besides me, I am certain...Do those.”

He moved to get up and then—

“—Zevran, I’m not long for this world.”

Her usually powerful voice nothing but caricature of itself, she told him everything that only been recently dumped upon her. Slaying the Archdemon required a warden sacrifice to prevent it’s essence from possessing another tainted creature. There was no way Ione would place Alistair on to the chopping block thus she stepped up instead. It was a small wonder this Duncan fellow hadn’t told her all of this before she drank the Darkspawn blood.

Silence smothered all sound. Every muscle in his body tensed. This wasn’t true. It was just a card plucked from her sleeve to push him to confess to whatever inane thing she wanted. It had to be. The special tenderness in her eyes told him otherwise. It chilled him to the bone.

“I am sorry.” He rasped.

“For what?”

“Take your pick.”

Feeling as if the ground beneath him had begun to crumble, he escaped the tent before she could get a word in edgewise.

In his own tent, he laid, arms behind his head, and wondered whether her presence in his life was some form of divine retribution. He lured in so many, played with their emotions and cut them down. Now, he was at the mercy of a woman who could make a gaping hole appear in his chest and not need to plunge her halberd in to do so. It would be the perfect execution of poetic justice. But he had done what he did for the sake of a target. Duty. What was she doing it for? Cruelty? Even he wasn’t so cold.

“What good has your soft heart brought you? Nothing! You’re a mess. Cut deep. Bleeding everywhere.”

And yet that need to hold her came rising again. The key to freedom from the inescapable pit within his mind was to have her in his arms and he in hers, it seemed. The ‘why’ was just something he couldn’t place his finger on.

“You’re addicted to it aren’t you? Such a masochist.”

When he first met her, he expected the tip of her halberd to pierce through his jaw. Instead, she spared his life and gave it purpose and even had done so for those around her and those they encountered. This alarmed him. While he hadn’t wished it, he expected her to buckle under the pressure of royal intrigue and Archdemon slaying heaped upon her shoulders. Rather than that, she persisted through tears and frustration and even had the nerve to burden herself with more. She didn’t need to seek out those Dalish gloves for him but she did and that was frightening. She wasn’t purposely going out the way to harm—in fact she acted in the manner of someone who wished to avoid such a thing—yet that made her all the more dangerous somehow. Even now with death around the corner she chose not to spend her night encapsulated by fear but by mingling with her companions and cajoling him to admit…

“Having another being in charge of your fate is nauseating isn’t it? You could want one thing and they could want another. Life could push you in one direction and the other person in the opposite. You’ll never know until it’s too late. That hesitation you feel is your sense of self-preservation. Don’t mar yourself for such a simple woman. For someone who sees you as nothing more than some sorry assassin.”

Everything crashed over him like a wave. The true fear wasn’t in that she wanted his heart. It was in that he would give it. He was a fool in love and in spite of her imminent demise he just wanted to be with her for as long a she’d have him.

“ Angel of Charity, Angel of Death, Angel of Fortitude, Angel of Temerity and Angel of Truth. You lucky dog.”

* * *

Like seeing someone’s heart broken into a thousand pieces? Don’t worry, I don’t judge. But you might be interested in my DC Comics story, Kandor, starring, Superman and an intruder in his Fortress of Solitude.

#female cousland #zevran arainai #My writing #dragon age origins #tw:implied self-harm #angst with a happy ending #angst with a hopeful ending

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bigskydreaming · 5 years

Text

One thing I never really see come up in the discussions about Dick not having wanted Bruce to be his father....

Like, there’s a reason kids orphaned at ten years old aren’t typically given the final say on what the rest of their life looks like from there.

They’re still kids.

No, this doesn’t mean what they want shouldn’t matter (far more than its typically allowed to within our fucked up system, that’s for sure).

But what it does mean is......anybody who fosters or adopts kids who are separated from their first families for whatever reason, is supposed to be aware of the reality that....KIDS CHANGE THEIR MINDS.

We’re talking about a person’s formative years here. Kids this age don’t typically know WHAT they want yet, even WITHOUT the overhanging influence of some huge tragedy or trauma, mixed in as well.

And they’re not supposed to. They shouldn’t be expected to.

I mean, how often do people hold you to things you say when you’re ten or twelve, no matter how much conviction you say it with? Let alone in the wake of serious emotional upheaval? What kid from a loving home is going to be ready let alone eager to see a new face occupying the picture they normally hold in their head when they think “dad”? Do children of divorce who have a parent remarry typically seem in a rush to call the new step-parent in their life by the title someone else already holds? Does this mean those children never end up calling their step-parent Dad or Mom....even while still having another person they call by that name?

No, I’m not suggesting that Bruce should have told a ten year old, grieving Dick Grayson “you may not want another father now, but I know what you’ll ultimately want better than you, so I’m going to adopt you and you’re going to like it.”

I’m just saying.....even if you go with the idea that Dick said this, early on when living with Bruce.....Bruce should have made this a topic to be revisited in a couple of years, to make sure that was still what Dick wanted. And yes, it should be on the parent or guardian to take the initiative here, because children who wind up in second homes with pre-existing reasons for not always being entirely certain of how stable their position there is....like, realistically, understandably....they’re NOT going to be the ones to broach these topics themselves.

And they should never be expected to be! Very few kids are going to have the surety to say “I know we’ve never really talked about this before but I would really like to be adopted,” and not feel super fucking presumptuous...even WITHOUT having the kinds of abandonment issues and insecurities Dick canonically has.

So I’m always going to maintain its a mistake to go with this take and attribute it to Dick’s wants and desires....based on something he expressed relatively early on in the grieving process and the early stages of his relationship with Bruce. Because inevitably, given many of his later insecurities and issues with Bruce, it becomes a kind of victim-blaming where its like, well if you wanted to be adopted, you shouldn’t have said otherwise.

(Never mind again that time in the 80s after Jason was adopted and Bruce and Dick were at a gala talking about it and why Bruce had never adopted Dick, and like....it was made ABUNDANTLY clear this was a want of Dick’s, and yet it was almost twenty years in real time and about four or five in comic book time before Bruce got around to it for some reason BUT I DIGRESS).

*Shrugs* Anyway, yeah. IMO its absolutely valid for Dick to express this when he’s nine or ten or even twelve, and its absolutely a good thing for Bruce to respect and honor this, regardless of whether it matches his own wants for what he wants his and Dick’s relationship to be.

The problem only lies in treating that like it was or should be the final word on the matter.

At the very least, its reasonable to expect Bruce to bring up the topic again a year or two later, after Dick’s had time to acclimate to his new environment, and not even need to make it a question that Dick has to answer now or even ever, but to simply like....express that there are options there, if Dick ever wants them. It really can be that simple. All it takes is Bruce making a point to make Dick aware that Bruce is open to whatever Dick wants, if Dick ever DOES want to change the nature of their relationship in any way, whether he wants to talk about adoption or changing the way they refer to each other to something more like “Dad” and “son” or even just if Dick wants to talk about what it might look like for them to still have a family relationship after he’s eighteen, if Dick still doesn’t want it to be as official as something like adoption but still would like to know that they have some solid connection or tie past that point...

(Like, so Dick never has to wonder when he’s fourteen or fifteen what’s going to happen after he turns eighteen if he’s not ‘really’ Bruce’s son. Is Dick expected to move out then, would it be weird for Dick to still just drop by whenever he’s in the mood, is that even okay....like, this is stuff that foster kids actually wonder about A LOT because like.....outside of adoption, most legal arrangements dissolve the second a kid turns eighteen and that means there is NO CERTAINTY in any of these kids’ lives past that point....unless someone makes sure to GIVE THEM a sense of certainty in something specific, something they can picture...yet this is also something I’ve never seen touched on in fanfics, when it almost certainly has to be something Dick thought or worried about at some point, given how much of their estrangement after he moved out in canon WAS rooted in mutual uncertainty as to what they even were to each other at this point.)

And if Bruce is afraid to have that conversation with Dick himself because he doesn’t want Dick to feel pressured at all, is worried about guilting Dick into asking for an adoption he doesn’t really want just because Dick thinks its what Bruce wants.....that’s actually not unreasonable either, but I mean, you know what else Bruce has? A best friend who’s a child of adoption, and whose experiences might not be interchangeable with Dick’s, but at least knows far better than Bruce what its like to have conflicting feelings about two sets of parents and guilt over maybe feeling like you’re abandoning one set by putting more focus on the other.

And if Bruce asks Clark to casually bring up this sort of conversation with Dick, at least Clark will be able to give Dick encouragement to open up to Bruce about this if he does have things he wants to say there, without the conversation itself making Dick feel pressured to go in any specific direction.

The point is, Bruce has options, and resources, and tons of different ways he can approach all this, while Dick is only ever going to have the blunt, straight forward approach with no guarantee of what answer he’ll get, especially if he worries he’s already made Bruce feel like he ‘rejected’ the idea of having Bruce be his father once.

And most importantly.....Dick, like any child in this kind of situation....

IS ALWAYS GOING TO BE THE ONE WHO HAS MORE TO LOSE.

If the answer isn’t what he hopes or wanted to hear. If the asking itself ends up destabilizing their relationship or his environment.

THE KID WHO HAD TO BE WELCOMED INTO THE HOME IS ALWAYS GOING TO HAVE MORE AT RISK THAN THE PERSON WHO OPENED UP THEIR HOME AND IS NOT OBLIGATED TO DO ANY MORE THAN THAT.

Like. That’s just how it is. That’s just the reality.

So....there’s no excuse for putting the weight of all that, all the expectations and deliberations that are involved in something this emotionally charged and complicated and with such myriad possible ramifications....

On just the once-voiced statement of a grieving ten year old. And with it to never be brought up again unless that same kid decides to some day ask “hey, you know how I said I didn’t want you to be my Dad once, well I changed my mind, can you be my Dad now?”

Like, that’s just not reasonable.

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jae-canikeepyou · 5 years

Text

| bad boy | j.jh

pairing: jaehyun x fem!reader genre: au a/n: idk the specific genre for this. can anyone suggest besides au? xD enjoy ~j

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the night crawled in and daylight instantly disappeared. you couldn’t believe how time had passed when all you did was study for the final exams this semester. passing the course was all you wanted, hopeful for the grades you were to get would be more than satisfactory.

city’s lights shone and twinkled like stars, slightly blinding your sight when your eyes recovered from the dimmed street ahead. the broken lamppost blinked several times before its shortage came, and you were stuck in darkness. only for awhile though, because at the third street was where your car parked. screw the campus for having limited parking slots.

you hoped your tired mind was playing you as you stood by your car.

there were footsteps.

and continuous uneven breaths.

it seemed the person was running. or being chased? you didn’t know but in all honesty who would run at this hour? it was nearing midnight. wouldn’t make any sense if there people to exercise now. you let it slide until you fumbled your bag for the keys. though it wasn’t anything to be worried about, your hunch said otherwise.

you unlocked your car but before you could even get on, a yank pulled you from behind, an arm wrapping your entire frame while the other covered your mouth. struggling to escape you stepped on this person’s foot, elbowing their torso.

but their was no effect. they only tightened their grip onto you.

the worse part?

a sharp item pointed at your back.

you knew if you moved any longer they will pursue injuring you. sweat rolled down your temples as you stood there, waiting for their comment.

“you’re a coward for bringing an innocent into this mess.” a voice made you shot up in front you. “did you really think you would escape from this?”

with the dark sky and dimmed lamppost, there was no way of distinguishing the person. their silhouette was too far in the distance, well maybe at least to your view.

“i’ll injure her!” the man yelled behind you, yet his voice quivered at the other’s tone.

“what will you gain from it? confidence? sure. guilt? possible.” he paused. “don’t even make me mention the worse case scenario. i guarantee it’ll haunt you.”

the sharp item behind you was given more pressure onto your flesh. from the feel of it, it was definitely a dagger. tiny but deadly. you could lose a lot of blood from this. the other man came forward and under the blinking lamppost.

ah.. it was someone you knew, too well. actually, the city you lived in knew him too well.

jung jaehyun, a.k.a the bad boy.

the nickname itself was not self-explanatory, rather an acronym given to him— beautiful and dangerous boy. his face could lure you into his crime and force you to handle it while he watched from afar, observing how you would do. you thought it was over the top but tonight proved you different.

he was.. dangerously attractive. a look at him could swoon ladies but his being was too dangerous at the same time. thus gaining the name. even the so-called strongest gang couldn’t stand against him. these were only rumors but you were slowly believing them.

“let the lady go and we’ll deal with this nicely.” jaehyun smirked.

a loud whistle escaped from the man’s lips, deafening your hearing for a whole second. figures and silhouettes appeared at every location your eyes could see. you gasped at the numbers and as you looked at jaehyun, he didn’t seem to give a damn. he eyed every one of them with a smile of disbelief.

“beat the crap out of jaehyun! i want him dead meat.” the man scowled with gritted teeth.

“i see you still have underlings! way to go for the intimidation!” jaehyun applauded.

before you even know it, he was swarmed with man’s underlings. like a movie, jaehyun’s movements appeared slow motion that you could see every action he did for offense. the man clicked his tongue and pulled you close. you decided not to be a damsel in distress of anybody, let along jung jaehyun, even if tonight seemed like he was to save you.

you couldn’t tolerate the man’s grip onto your body. so you stomped his foot again and gave him an uppercut as you turned to face him. the dagger fell from his hold and immediately you kicked it to the nearest drainage of a street pavement. he attempted punches but given his posture, he was already injured, where his polo shirt was slowly damped with blood.

the yells from behind went softer as the bodies of the underlings were either unconscious or had ran away. jaehyun too was close to losing consciousness. you feared of being involved in this mess and rushed to your car. hands currently shook at the situation.

“woman! you-” the man’s yell made you turn to him where he fumbled his pockets, bringing out a hand gun. he aimed at you as you had closed your eyes when you pulled onto the car’s handle. though you screamed in fear, you instinctively covered yourself as you ducked.

gunshot.

everything happened so fast that luckily you had gotten inside on time. the man ran off, yes, but you realized your car door was open.

jaehyun sat by your car.

and he was shot.

“hey,” he called out. “c-can i get in?”

did he just.. chuckle? he was injured and you knew you couldn’t leave him there. from his position now, he was facing you. your conscience told you he saved you.

the jung jaehyun saved you.

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“agh-” jaehyun glared at you. “watch it!” he hissed at the sting from medication and your touch. his eyes boring into yours.

“tsk, if you could just move a little forward-” you butt back as you gently supported his torso against yours, wrapping surgical tape around his.

your mind flashed back to the sound of the gunshot. it still ringed your ears. jaehyun have asked you to bring him to the nearest hospital, but it would be a long drive. hesitant but grateful for him, you decided to bring him to your apartment since it was a ten minute drive.

“i’m glad this is only grazed by the bullet.” jaehyun chuckled and you kept quiet. “if it did hit me, you’d be suspected of murder.”

“i won’t be suspected since i don’t possess such a weapon. and besides i know how the man looked like in case police did ask me.” you clicked your tongue. “there, all done. you may leave.”

jaehyun looked at you, amused at your response. “ooh thanks. by the way-”

“don’t act friendly just because i treated your wound.” you furrowed your brows.

“but i’m grateful for you. i could lose a lot of blood if not tended immediately.” he drank from his cup you prepared him earlier.

“you could feel all kinds of emotion toward me but you’re just another-”

“i was.” he said in a low voice, sitting down on the sofa with arms rested behind his head. he knew what you were getting onto. “i left the city because i wanted to change. i don’t know but the rumors you heard was the 17 year-old jaehyun, the old me. now that i’ve come back, i sought a better life and enjoying it.”

you couldn’t tell if he was telling the truth but from the looks in his eyes, maybe it was real. you jutted your lips, stood there in silence as you held the first aid kit. “i’m sorry i assumed that. i also came back to this city because my parents relocated their office.”

jaehyun smiled, and you swore you felt the tingles. he stood up to approach you and thought you were cute, then he decided to play a little game.

you cleared your throat when you both exchanged eye contact. “i’m just gonna put these back-”

“ow i think i accidentally opened the incision.” jaehyun said in pain, making you rush to him.

“you stood up too quickly jaehyun.” you said irritably, checking the bandage you had wrapped. “yep i think it’s bleeding.”

he laughed and his voice was like music to your ears. no wonder he swooned ladies in an instant. it wasn’t the time to be admiring him when you clearly have to replace the bandage. you looked at him above you and he was already staring. “i’m just kidding.” he shrugged jokingly. “it’s the medication that stained it.”

your head probably boiled into the highest temperature your body could handle. he played you and wasted your time when you could’ve slept immediately if he had left. grabbing the first aid kit, you went to the kitchen to return to its place. jaehyun seemed he didn’t want to leave just yet. it was two in the morning and gosh you really wanted to hit the sack.

“you should be able to distinguish meds and wounds.” he pointed at his waist where the wound was. “you’re training for e.m.t right?”

“okay, not only you’re an ex-juvenile but a stalker too?” you spat.

“no, i’m also training for e.m.t, y/n.” he smirked. “wow kinda mean when you don’t recognize a classmate.”

your name escaped his lips, mentioning it like you both were close, while you’ve never run into him at lectures or seen him around the campus.

“uh-huh.. hey if you’re in the e.m.t, you could’ve treated the wound yourself.” you face-palmed.

“i actually could, but why waste my chances of getting this treated by a pretty lady?” jaehyun said, still a smile on his face.

okay confirmed he got a way with his words.

it wasn’t that he was pissing you off, but rather how he could make you swoon even if he didn’t intend to. he did mention he was a changed man. you looked at him, awestruck.

your door slammed open and you were sure it was locked. boys around your age or maybe younger came rushing to jaehyun, all worried, as seen in their expressions. they were too many for your brain to even count. you stood there, exchanging glances at the strangers and your now knocked down, broken door.

“jae! your tracker said you were here!” “you weren’t replying! you got us worried!” “don’t run off like that.” “vice capt!”

“ahem.” you cleared your throat as the guys turned to where you were. “i met an ex-juve, heard gunshots, treated the guy and now nine people broke my door? gosh i just want to sleep!”

“i’m sorry y/n, i’ll ask them to leave.” jaehyun stood up, later bending at the injury.

“oh what’s this jaehyun? you’ve got a gang leader who shot you, his underlings nearly beat you to a pulp just because you told him ‘did you really think you’d escape from this?’ and now you have underlings too? trackers? vice capt? agh i’m going crazy. i’m calling the cops.” you said in one breath.

“whoa hold on miss. don’t call the cops because i think there’s a misunderstanding going on here. my name’s mark by the way. hyung’s just chasing that gang because they tried to lure the kids from the orphanage downtown.” mark waved his hands, gesturing you to stop dialing.

“we swore to protect the kids.” jaehyun said, his friends agreeing to him.

the orphanage?

“both dr. y/l/n are such good people.” the tallest one said.

“you’ve met my parents?” you asked them.

“they come to the orphanage a lot, to give the kids check-ups. we’ve gotten close within days.” jaehyun stood up, who was soon supported by two other boys of his height. “guys just fix y/n’s door and wait for me downstairs.” like ducklings to the mother, they all followed his orders.

you helped jaehyun walk to your hallway. he saw how tired you were and decided he’d call it a night. meanwhile, the large arm wrapped around your shoulders pulled you to a hug.

“jaehyun, what are you doing?” you mumbled on his clothing. “just because you’re close with my parents, doesn’t mean it’s the same for me.”

“aren’t we close now?” he asked.

“oh my g- jung jaehyun, not literally.” you sighed.

he pulled you away, and rubbed your head. “i’m kidding, y/n.”

“you better be, because i really want to slee-” you froze at his action, where he planted a kiss on your cheek.

“thanks for not leaving me out in the street. you should come to the orphanage with your parents next time. i’ll be happy to see you again.” he smiled as he closed your apartment door, but this one was the final shot for you.

the city gave him an accurate name after all.

jung jaehyun, a beautiful and dangerous boy.

#nct 127 #jaehyun oneshot #nct #jung jaehyun #jung yoonoh #nct jaehyun #jaehyun #jaehyun nct #jaehyun scenarios #jaehyun x reader #jaehyun writings #nct writings #jaehyun fanfic

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starwarringavengers · 4 years

Text

our own house [5/6]

Summary: The five times Ben Solo and Rey of Jakku kiss, and the one time they do more. The jedi au that no one asked for but that I am nonetheless delivering.

Chapter Summary: Luke is an absolute COCKBLOCK but what's new??? Also Rey's lightsaber is white and Ben's is purple and you can feel free to fight me on this but I won't guarantee you will ever be able to change my mind. Also also Grandpa Anakin makes a guest appearance

Warnings: Lots of “fuck” and some kissing (obviously)

AO3 Here!

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The fifth time Rey of Jakku and Ben Solo kiss, it’s because they’re confronted by a ghost.

They don’t speak for a week and a half. Rey avoids him at every turn, leaving each room that he enters and even refusing to make eye contact with him most of the time. Every day that passes, the reality of his fuck-up crashes down on him harder and harder, until finally, something larger than their issue comes crashing down into his world.

That thing is called Mustafar, and Luke’s incessant need to seek out danger. It runs in the family.

“Why would we go there, Luke?” Ben asks his uncle as he sits with him and the other Jedi Masters and Knights at the round table in one of the many rooms the temple.

“Because it is an important place, Ben,” Luke sighs quietly, “And it is where my father became Darth Vader. It may yet hold secrets or information that Anakin collected. He never stopped studying the Force, even as a Sith Lord.”

“Luke, I have to side with you nephew on this - it seems like a potentially disastrous journey to make,” Master Qui’Nik states, and Ben holds out a hand as if to say, told you so.

“I feel that it’s a journey I need to make. Anyone is welcome to come, but I won’t force you, nor ask you,” Luke says.

An absolute lie, because he’s practically guilted Ben into going with him just by telling him about it.

In the end, a few of the Jedi Master and Rey and Poe join the expedition, the latter serving as their pilot. Ben feels like his world is imploding around him when he slides into the seat next to Rey on the transport. He could’ve sat a row back, but what sense would that make? It might have been an easier trip, if he had - Rey stares daggers into the back of Luke’s headrest as she sits next to him. He can’t hear anything past the rushing wind of her thoughts, practically consuming the entire cabin of the ship.

Add that to the list of things that he’s got to fix.

When Mustafar looms in the distance, Ben gets a very strange feeling. As if something is calling to him, plucking at just the strings of his self-loathing and hatred and everything that aligns with the dark inside of him that he tries so hard to keep hidden. It’s almost as if the atmosphere is pulling his every emotion to the surface, wrapping him in a cloak of things like passion and lust and impulsive thoughts.

Rey sitting next to him isn’t helping. He gets spikes of her signature as she’s so near to him, feels when she goes from fear to anger to excitement, and how all of it is shadowed by a confusion that knots around her.

Perhaps she’s like him, then. Not quite good enough to live entirely in the light, but unsure of what to do with the dark that also lives alongside it.

That thought makes him feel strangely a little bit better.

When they land on the lava planet, Poe looks almost comically concerned.

“You can wait here,” Luke tells him, and Dameron can’t acquiesce fast enough. Ben half expects Luke to say the same to Rey, but it seems he finally knows her better than that, and knows that no matter what, she needs to touch the ground of this planet, just like she does.

None of them are quite prepared for it when their feet touch the blacked lava - the power that flows through the whole planet is dark, almost broken and sad, like a cracked kyber crystal. They walk for some time, thoughts to themselves, before they finally reach the looming castle, made of polished black obsidian and standing as it has for years.

Voices swim in the air. Or, perhaps it’s only one?

“Pairs of two. Don’t split up, whatever you do,” Luke tells them all, with a pointed look at Ben and Rey. “I’ll go right, but the two of you must stay together.”

Ben can’t figure out why he says it like that, but there’s a grave seriousness in his Uncle’s voice that causes Ben to listen to him without question. Masters and Knights pair off, each headed in different directions. Ben and Rey stand there in the entry of the castle for a moment, studying the darkness around them and the cracks in the walls that seem to let in just enough light, as if something otherworldly had broken the stone and splintered it in this way.

They don’t speak. When Rey finally moves to head down a hall, Ben follows her silently. A force is pulling them forward, dragging them to a spot in the castle that’s only calling to them, Ben can tell that much. He struggles a bit to keep up with her, as she ducks and twists and squeezes through mostly-shut doorways that he ends up having to blast open because she’s a tiny little scavenger, and Ben is most definitely not.

The room they stop in is pitch black. Not a crack of light. Ben makes to ignite his saber but Rey’s hand reaches back and covers his own, stilling him.

“Do you hear it?” she asks him, and in the moment he’s so attuned to just her, in this darkness that surrounds them. He can hear her heartbeat, can practically feel the blood rushing through her veins where his hand wraps around her wrist, the warmth of her as she’s pressed closer to him than she’s been in nearly two weeks.

But, he listens. The voice he’s heard since they touched down on the planet is there, unintelligible for the moment. “I hear it,” he tells her, and slowly, Rey takes a step forward.

Whatever room they’re in, it’s large - Ben can feel the draft of it and probes with the Force to find the high ceilings. Nothing else breathes in the room but them, but something certainly lives in it. Ben doesn’t ask why Rey refuses any light, but he finds himself understanding. Somehow their sabers would taint the way the room feels. It’s not meant for the brightness of their white and purple blades, and so they use the Force to find their way deeper into the room, carefully probing to find anything that might stand in their way. Nothing does.

They find the center easy enough, still robbed of sight, but what tells Ben that they’ve found it is the warp of sound that happens when they stand there, as if everything will come back at them if they were to speak.

“Center,” The voice says, like a whisper creeping through every tendon in Ben’s body, rushing up his spine. “You’ve found the center I couldn’t.”

“Ben,” Rey breathes, “Who is that?”

For a moment, he doesn’t answer. He shakes his head and then remembers that she can’t see him. A voice speaking to them in the middle of a horrible, abandoned castle on a crying planet should make them fearful, or at the very least be creepy, but the voice and whoever it belongs to doesn’t intend to harm them. It’s soft - sad and broken and full of a past that Ben feels the weight of as if he bears it on his own shoulders.

“Are you aware of the Bond you share?” The voice asks.

Rey reaches back and into Ben. He takes her in his arms without thinking.

“You’re not, then,” the voice muses, “You’ve speculated that it’s there because it’s so easy to hear each other’s thoughts. But Force Dyads are not common, things like life itself - there is hardly any research that’s been done. One hasn’t happened for thousands of years, and yet, here you are.”

“What does he mean?” Rey asks, hushed. “A Force Dyad? We’re connected?”

Of course they are, Ben figures. That has to be why it’s so easy to feel each other, to catch the tendrils of emotions that roll off of Rey every time she’s near, and why he can feel her Force signature in a way he can’t feel anyone else’s.

“You have to open yourselves up to it,” the voice tells them, “You’re putting up walls because you’re afraid to let each other in.”

Are they? Is Rey as frightened of the emotion between them, the thing that wraps around them whenever they’re together, the string that pulls them?

“Why us?” Rey asks, more to the voice that surrounds them rather than Ben.

The voice seems to be amused. “Can you not tell you’re made for each other? The Force does whatever it wants - it’s created one with the other in mind. A balance.”

It dawns then, who the voice is.

“Are you Anakin Skywalker?” Ben asks, in a voice smaller than he wishes it to come out. He feels Rey start a little.

“Hello, grandson. I wondered how long it would take.”

Oh, this has to be his grandfather, because the sass in that voice sounds so much like his mother that it startles him.

“What the fuck -“ Rey starts to say, but stops when the room around them lightens. Not glows, exactly - but it’s as if the light comes from inside the walls, illuminating the two of them and the mural on the ceiling, brilliant with color. Ben looks at Rey first, to find her looking at him, and then together they stare at what’s above them. Images of blue flowers and moons and lakes and in the center, a woman, his grandmother, something tells him, dark curls laced with gold.

“I lost the thing I loved most in search of power. Do not make the same mistake, Ben Solo.”

And with that, the light in the room extinguishes, and gone along with it is the presence that lingered with the voice of Anakin Skywalker.

Dazed, Ben waves a hand to send tendrils of light to the candelabras that surround the room, and finally, he can look down at Rey in the still dim light, the warm glow and the gilded gold casting shadows on her face.

She moves first, and thank the Gods because Ben can barely think.

Rey throws her arms around him, bringing their mouths together with no preamble, and he holds her close to his chest, sinking into the feeling of her kiss. No words are said, and there’s no more sound other than the faint hum of the Force and their breathing, the slide of their lips against each other. Rey is warm beneath his palms, a steady but rapid heartbeat, and soft hair that he tangles his fingers into as soon as he gets it free of two out of three buns.

Their sabers clatter to the floor and Ben’s cloak falls with them as Rey unlatches it from his throat before nearly jumping into his arms, locking her legs tight around his waist as he slowly lowers them to the ground. She’s straddling his hips and when Ben finally opens his eyes to look at her, he swears that he’s never seen anything more beautiful than the way she looks at him in that moment, flushed cheeks and kiss-stung lips that are just a little bit redder than normal, her hands tenderly reaching up to cup his face.

Oh, he loves her he loves her he loves her I love -

She kisses him again and the thought stops in its tracks with a twinge of amusement. Ben contemplates keeping her here, in his arms, forever and ever or at least until he’s had his fill of her, enough to satiate him for a quick moment before he’ll need her again. Rey quietly lets him know that she agrees with this thought, her hand on his chest to lean him back on the floor, their hands and mouths and limbs entwining and connecting as they kiss until they can’t breathe.

Are you two…okay? Luke’s voice floods both of their heads, and Rey actually groans. I’m getting a very weird reading off of you. Are you stuck?

“Fucking leave it to him -“ Ben starts to grumble, but Rey silences him with a quick kiss before pulling him up from the ground. She looks as dazed as he feels.

Rey sends over the mental link with Luke what they’ve found, and then stares at Ben, bright eyes wide and lips parted and chest rising and falling heavily with every breath. He can read her every thought and fuck, some of them are dirty.

Have you always been that -

Yes, she sends back, apparently unwilling to acknowledge anything further as she bends to pick up his cloak, and for the first time, Ben doesn’t feel even a little bit bad about the way he stares at her ass. He’s about to tell her such, but then Luke comes barreling into the hall and the moment of bliss is halted.

The rest of the exploration of the castle on Mustafar happens in a daze. Luke finds various writings and books and holos and Ben just stutters about, thinking about his grandfather’s words and the feeling over Rey in his arms. He feels everything she feels as keenly as if they were existing in one body - every time he brushes her, he feels the rush of heat in her veins, and every time he catches the scent of wildflowers that comes off of her hair, he’s sure she can feel the warmth that blossoms in his chest.

They don’t get a moment alone from the time they leave the mural hall to when they get back on the plane. And Ben is well and truly deep in a daze that is all Rey.

The promise of landing back at the Academy and being able to speak to her there makes the trip almost unbearable, even as he feels the tendrils of her mind slipping at his, as if asking for access, probing to feel his emotion about what they’d experienced, what they’d shared.

The ship lands, and he’s so close, so so close -

“Sit with me, Ben,” Luke demands, and yanks him away from Rey.

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@sunshiney-souls

#reylo #reylo fanfic #reylo kisses #rey x ben solo #rey x ben #rey x ben solo fanfic #reylo jedi au #rey and ben #rey and ben solo #rey and ben solo fanfic #star wars fanfiction #reylo fanfiction #sw fanfic

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