#wanted a new casting fit. did not anticipate what he would do to me

[eleventhcircle-archive]

7.20.2023 [35/∞] YoRHa No. 3 Type... B, reporting for duty, Commander.

[muiitoloko]

I just read Elliott fic when they have some domestic discipline and firstly I love it !!! Secondly, I read someone in the comment talking about Lionel and Turpin and it could fit them but what about a character no one would think about ??? Like Sinclair ! It’s so out of character and in the same time, I can imagine him and his partner having it as a fun sexual game because of course Sinclair is not a punisher, but he needs spices in his sexual life after his bitchy ex !

Title: Bedroom Boundaries

Summary: The exploration of new boundaries in the bedroom reveals Sinclair's hidden desires and deepens the connection between lovers.

Pairing: Sinclair Bryant × Fem! Reader

Warnings: Smut, BDSM.

Author's Notes: That's an interesting idea! I have to admit, it's a bit challenging to picture Sinclair as a dominant because he gives off such Golden Retriever vibes. But I went ahead and wrote about it, doing my best to keep the essence of Sinclair intact. Hope you enjoy it! 😄

Also read on Ao3

Sinclair was quite silent that night, you noticed as you brushed your hair in front of the mirror. You looked at him in the reflection, watching as he moved his fingers silently. He was reclining on the bed, his back against the headboard and the sheets pulled up to his lap. Sinclair always played with his fingers and was silent when he wanted to tell you something but wasn't sure if he should say it.

"What's on your mind, Clair?" you asked softly, putting down the brush and turning to face him. His brown eyes met yours, filled with a mixture of uncertainty and desire.

He hesitated for a moment, his blond hair slightly tousled, and his hooked nose casting a shadow over his intense gaze. "It's just... I've been thinking about something," he began, his baritone voice low and hesitant. "Something I want to try with you."

You walked over to the bed, sitting down beside him and taking his hand in yours. "You know you can tell me anything," you encouraged, your voice gentle.

Sinclair took a deep breath, his fingers tightening around yours. "I want to explore something new with you," he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. "Something a bit... dirtier than what we've done before."

Your heart skipped a beat at his words, a thrill of anticipation coursing through you. "Tell me more," you urged, your own voice filled with curiosity and excitement.

He looked at you hesitantly before finally starting to speak, his fingers nervously intertwining with yours. "I bought a magazine about, well, sex," Sinclair began, his voice shaky. "And in the magazine, there was an article about BDSM. It caught my attention, so I did some research about it—about dominance and submission."

Sinclair paused, his brown eyes searching yours for any sign of discomfort. Seeing none, he continued, his voice gaining a bit more confidence. "I really want to experiment with you. But I won't insist if you don't want to."

You stopped, absorbing his words, a little surprised. You couldn't imagine Sinclair as a dominant man. He was like a Golden Retriever—innocent and eager to please. Even now, when you lived together, he still asked permission to kiss you. The idea of him being dominant in bed was a surprise.

"What exactly do you want to do?" you asked, your curiosity piqued.

Sinclair's cheeks flushed slightly, but he didn't look away. "The spanking part caught my attention," he admitted. "I really want to have that with you. I want to spank your ass, and you'd be submissive to me. Of course, not for real. We'd have a safe word, and you could use it if it ever became too much."

Your heart raced at his words, a mix of excitement and apprehension swirling within you. "And... you'd make some rules in the bedroom?" you asked, trying to picture the scenario.

Sinclair nodded, his fingers tightening around yours. "Yes, I could create some rules for us to follow. Like, you would address me as 'Sir' during our sessions, and I'd expect you to obey my commands. If you misbehave, you'd get spanked as a punishment."

You bit your lip, the idea of submitting to Sinclair sending a thrill of anticipation through you. "And what would you do if I obeyed?" you asked, your voice barely above a whisper.

Sinclair's eyes darkened with desire, his voice dropping to a low, seductive rumble. "If you obey, you'd be rewarded. I could make you feel so good, give you pleasure like never before."

The thought of Sinclair taking control, of being both your punisher and your pleasure-giver, sent a shiver down your spine. "I'd like to try," you said softly, your own desire evident in your voice.

Sinclair's eyes lit up with a mixture of relief and excitement. "Thank you," he murmured, his fingers caressing your cheek. "We'll take it slow, and remember, you can always use the safe word if you need to stop."

You nodded, feeling a rush of anticipation. "What's the safe word?"

"Let's use 'red'," Sinclair suggested, his voice filled with affection. "If you say 'red', everything stops immediately."

"Okay, 'red' it is," you agreed, feeling a sense of security in the clear boundaries being set.

Sinclair smiled, a mischievous glint in his eyes as he moved to sit up straighter on the bed. "Now, let's start with something simple," he said, his voice taking on a more authoritative tone. "Strip for me."

Your breath hitched at the command, but you felt a thrill of excitement as you began to remove your clothes, piece by piece, under his watchful gaze. Sinclair's eyes roamed over your body, his desire evident in the way he licked his lips.

Once you were fully naked, Sinclair's eyes darkened with lust. "Good girl," he murmured, his voice a low, seductive purr. "Now, come here and lay across my lap."

You moved to obey, your heart racing as you draped yourself over his lap, your bare skin pressed against his. Sinclair's hand rested on your ass, his touch gentle yet possessive.

"Are you ready?" he asked, his voice filled with a mix of excitement and tenderness.

"Yes, Sir," you replied, the title feeling strangely natural as it left your lips.

Sinclair's hand came down in a firm, controlled spank, the sensation sending a jolt of pleasure through your body. He continued, each spank growing slightly harder, his other hand caressing your back in a soothing gesture.

But Sinclair wasn't used to this, you noticed, because every time you made a strange noise, he would stop and question if you were okay and if you wanted to stop. This amused you; it was clear that Sinclair was not used to being dominant, although he tried. So, you decided to provoke him a bit.

"Is everything okay?" Sinclair asked for the third time, his hand hovering over your reddened skin.

You bit your lip, suppressing a smile. "I'm fine, Sir," you replied, your voice a mix of reassurance and challenge. "Is that the best you can do?"

Sinclair's eyes widened slightly, his cheeks flushing as he processed your words. "What do you mean?" he asked, his voice hesitant.

You wiggled your hips slightly, pressing yourself more firmly against his lap. "I mean, I thought you wanted to punish me, Sir," you said, your voice dripping with playful defiance. "But it feels like you're holding back. Maybe you're not cut out for this."

Sinclair's eyes darkened with a mix of uncertainty and determination. "Oh, really?" he murmured, his voice low and slightly shaky. "You think I can't handle being in charge?"

You smirked, enjoying the way his fingers tightened on your skin. "I think you're too gentle," you teased, your voice a seductive whisper. "I don't think you have it in you to really dominate me."

Sinclair's expression shifted, a spark of resolve igniting in his eyes. "Is that so?" he said, his voice gaining a bit more confidence. "Well, let's see about that."

Without warning, Sinclair's hand came down in a firmer spank, the sharp crack echoing in the room. You gasped, a mixture of pleasure and surprise coursing through you. "That's more like it," you moaned, your voice laced with encouragement.

Sinclair's hand continued to spank you, each slap growing harder and more deliberate. "You're such a naughty girl," he murmured, his baritone voice filled with a mix of excitement and nervousness. "You need to learn your place."

You arched your back, pushing your ass up to meet his hand. "Yes, Sir," you gasped, the thrill of his newfound confidence sending waves of pleasure through you. "Teach me, Sir."

Sinclair's hand paused, his fingers tracing the red marks on your skin. "You're enjoying this, aren't you?" he asked, his voice filled with a mix of wonder and desire.

You looked back at him over your shoulder, your eyes filled with lust. "Yes, Sir," you admitted, your voice breathy. "I love it when you take control."

Sinclair's eyes gleamed with satisfaction, his hand resuming its rhythmic spanking. "Good," he murmured, his voice gaining a more commanding tone. "Because I'm not done with you yet."

As his hand continued to punish you, Sinclair's other hand moved to caress your back, his touch both soothing and possessive. "You're mine," he growled, his voice thick with desire. "All mine."

You moaned in response, the mix of pain and pleasure driving you wild. "Yes, Sir," you gasped, your body trembling with need. "I'm yours."

Sinclair's hand stilled, his fingers trailing down to tease your entrance. "Tell me how much you want it," he demanded, his voice a low, seductive rumble.

"I want it so badly, Sir," you whimpered, your voice filled with desperation. "Please, take me. Use me."

Sinclair's eyes darkened with lust, his fingers slipping inside you, his touch firm and demanding. "Good girl," he murmured, his voice filled with satisfaction. "Now, beg for it."

"Please, Sir," you begged, your voice trembling with need. "Please fuck me. I need you inside me."

Sinclair's smirk widened, his confidence growing with each passing moment. "That's more like it," he murmured, his fingers pumping in and out of you with increasing speed. "You're such a good little slut for me."

You froze in his lap, and so did Sinclair. He had never called you that before, and it was a surprise for both of you. Sinclair remained still, his fingers paused inside you, his face flushed with a mixture of shock and regret.

"Oh my God, I'm so sorry," Sinclair began, his voice shaky and filled with panic. "I shouldn't have said that. You're not a little slut. It was wrong of me to say that. I don't know what came over me. I shouldn't have even proposed this game of submission and dominance. I—"

You silenced him by pushing yourself against his fingers, ignoring his excuses as you looked at him with intense desire. "Shut up, Sinclair," you whispered, your voice dripping with lust. "I am your dirty little slut."

Sinclair's eyes widened, his mouth opening and closing as he struggled to process your words. "But—" he started, but you cut him off with a fierce look.

"Call me that again," you demanded, your voice firm and commanding. "I want to hear it from your lips."

Sinclair's breath hitched, his fingers instinctively moving inside you again. "You're... my dirty little slut," he whispered, his voice filled with a mix of hesitation and desire.

You moaned, pushing yourself harder against his fingers. "Yes, Sir," you gasped, your voice thick with need. "Your dirty little slut who loves being used by you. Please, Sir, fuck me like the slut I am."

Sinclair's eyes darkened with lust, his confidence returning as he watched you writhe in his lap. "You really are a dirty little slut." he murmured, his voice gaining strength. "You love it when I call you that, don't you?"

"Yes, Sir," you moaned, your body trembling with anticipation. "I love it. I love being your dirty little slut. Please, Sir, fuck me harder."

Sinclair's hand moved faster, his fingers thrusting in and out of you with renewed intensity. "You want more, don't you?" he growled, his baritone voice filled with dominance. "You want me to treat you like the slut you are."

"Yes, Sir," you gasped, your voice barely above a whisper. "I want more. I want you to use me, to fuck me like the dirty slut I am."

Sinclair's eyes gleamed with satisfaction, his confidence growing with each passing moment. "You're mine," he growled, his voice a low, dangerous purr. "All mine. And I'm going to make sure you never forget it."

With that, he pulled his fingers out of you, his hands moving to position you on the bed. "On your hands and knees," he commanded, his voice filled with authority. "I want to see you begging for my cock."

You obeyed without hesitation, your heart racing with excitement as you positioned yourself on the bed, your ass raised high in the air. Sinclair moved behind you, his eyes dark with desire as he took in the sight before him.

"Please, Sir," you begged, your voice trembling with need. "I need you inside me. I need to feel your cock fucking me hard."

Sinclair's smirk widened, his hands gripping your hips as he positioned himself at your entrance. "You want it that badly, huh?" he teased, his voice filled with dark promise. "Well, you're going to get it."

With one swift, decisive motion, Sinclair thrust into you, filling you completely. You cried out in a mix of pleasure and surprise, your body arching against him as he began to move.

"Look at you," he murmured, his voice a mix of admiration and lust. "My dirty little slut, ready and waiting for me."

You looked over your shoulder, your gaze locking onto Sinclair. He seemed quite different, nothing like your Golden Retriever that he normally was. His blond hair was slightly tousled, his hooked nose casting shadows over his intense brown eyes. You still weren't sure if dominance suited him, but damn, he was so hot now, all dominant and talking dirty. You had never heard him talk dirty before, and you didn't even know he was capable of it. A brief thought flitted through your mind, wondering if his cheating ex-wife, Natalie, had ever heard him talk dirty like this.

Sinclair's grip on your hips tightened as he continued to thrust into you, his voice filled with a mix of authority and raw desire. "Look at you, taking my cock so well," he growled, his baritone voice sending shivers down your spine. "You're such a good little slut for me, aren't you?"

"Yes, Sir," you moaned, your body arching against him. "I'm your good little slut. Please, don't stop."

Sinclair's smirk widened, his confidence growing with each passing moment. "You love it when I fuck you like this, don't you?" he murmured, his voice thick with lust. "You love being my dirty little whore."

"Yes, Sir," you gasped, your voice trembling with need. "I love it. I love being your dirty little whore."

Sinclair's thrusts grew harder and more deliberate, his hands roaming over your body as he claimed you completely. "I want to hear you scream my name," he demanded, his voice a low, seductive rumble. "I want everyone to know who you belong to."

You cried out, the intensity of his words and the pleasure coursing through you driving you wild. "Sinclair!" you screamed, your voice filled with ecstasy. "Oh, God, Sinclair!"

"That's it," he growled, his baritone voice filled with satisfaction. "Scream for me. Let everyone know who fucks you like this."

You pushed back against him, your body trembling with the intensity of your need. "Fuck me harder, Sir," you begged, your voice thick with desire. "Make me cum. Please, make me cum."

Sinclair's eyes darkened with lust, his grip on your hips tightening as he pounded into you with relentless intensity. "You're going to cum for me," he growled, his voice a low, dangerous purr. "You're going to cum so hard, and I'm going to fill you up with my cum. You're mine, all mine."

You moaned, the pleasure building to a dizzying peak as Sinclair drove you closer and closer to the edge. "Yes, Sir," you gasped, your body trembling with anticipation. "I'm so close. Please, don't stop."

Sinclair slapped your ass, and you screamed at the blow, which made Sinclair flinch slightly. His worry overcame him as he thought he might have hurt you, and the idea killed him. You noticed his hesitation and looked over your shoulder, pushing yourself against him.

"Sinclair," you murmured, your voice filled with a mix of challenge and curiosity, "have you ever done something like this to your ex-wife, Natalie? Did you fuck her like that? Did you talk dirty to her?"

Sinclair's face flushed a deep red, his fingers tightening on your hips as he processed your question. "No," he admitted, his voice shaky. "I never did anything like this with her."

You pushed back against him, feeling a thrill of excitement at his admission. "Then show me, Sinclair," you urged, your voice dripping with lust. "Show me how much more you want me than you ever wanted her. Fuck me like you never fucked her."

Sinclair's eyes darkened with a mix of desire and determination, his grip on your hips tightening as he resumed his thrusts, harder and more deliberate than before. "You're mine," he growled, his voice a low, dangerous rumble. "All mine. And I'll make sure you know it."

You moaned at his words, the pleasure and intensity of his thrusts driving you wild. "Yes, Sir," you gasped, your body trembling with need. "I'm yours. Only yours."

Sinclair's confidence grew with each passing moment, his hand coming down in another firm slap on your ass, the sharp crack echoing in the room. "That's right," he growled, his baritone voice filled with satisfaction. "You're my dirty little slut, and I'll fuck you harder than I ever fucked anyone else."

You cried out at the intensity of his thrusts, the mix of pain and pleasure sending waves of ecstasy through your body. "Please, Sir," you begged, your voice thick with desire. "Don't stop. I need you so badly."

Sinclair's hand moved to your hair, gripping it firmly as he pulled your head back, forcing you to look at him. "Look at you," he murmured, his voice filled with a mix of admiration and dominance. "So desperate for my cock. So eager to please."

You whimpered at the intensity of his gaze, the pleasure building to a dizzying peak. "Yes, Sir," you moaned, your voice trembling with need. "I love it. I love being your dirty little whore."

Sinclair's eyes gleamed with satisfaction, his thrusts growing even more intense. "You want it that badly, huh?" he teased, his voice filled with dark promise. "Well, you're going to get it."

With each powerful thrust, Sinclair drove you closer and closer to the edge, the pleasure overwhelming your senses. "Fuck, Sinclair!" you screamed, your body trembling with anticipation. "I'm so close. Please, don't stop."

"You're going to cum for me," he growled, his voice a low, dangerous purr. "You're going to cum so hard, and I'm going to fill you up with my cum. You're mine, all mine."

You moaned, the intensity of his words and the pleasure coursing through you driving you wild. "Yes, Sir," you gasped, your body trembling with need. "I'm yours. Only yours."

Sinclair's grip on your hair tightened, his thrusts growing more erratic as he chased his own climax. "Cum for me," he demanded, his voice thick with desire. "Show me just how much you love being fucked by me."

With a final, powerful thrust, Sinclair pushed you over the edge, sending you spiraling into another mind-blowing orgasm. You cried out his name, your body convulsing with the intensity of your release as Sinclair continued to pound into you, drawing out every last bit of pleasure.

Sinclair's thrusts stuttered before he came, filling you with his seed. You moaned at the sensation, your body trembling with the aftershocks of your orgasm as he groaned in pleasure, his fingers digging into your hips. As he calmed down, Sinclair pulled out of you and collapsed onto the bed next to you, his chest rising and falling rapidly. He pulled you into his chest, his shirt now stuck against his skin from sweat, having only taken off his boxer shorts to fuck you.

You watched as the dominant Sinclair disappeared, replaced by the familiar, gentle Golden Retriever demeanor you knew so well. He began to chatter, his voice filled with a mixture of worry and affection. "Oh my God, I'm so sorry," he blurted out, his brown eyes wide with concern. "I didn't mean to cum inside you without asking first. I got so caught up in the moment, and I—"

You silenced him with a kiss, your fingers tangling in his blond hair as you pressed your lips to his. "It's okay, Sinclair," you murmured against his mouth, your voice filled with reassurance. "I wanted it. I loved it."

Sinclair's expression softened, his cheeks flushing as he looked at you with a mixture of relief and affection. "Really?" he asked, his voice still tinged with uncertainty. "I just... I never want to do anything that makes you uncomfortable."

You smiled, caressing his cheek with your thumb. "You didn't," you assured him. "You were amazing. I loved every second of it."

Sinclair let out a relieved sigh, his arms tightening around you as he nuzzled your neck. "I'm glad," he murmured, his voice returning to its usual chatty tone. "I was so worried. I've never done anything like that before, and I wasn't sure if I was doing it right."

You laughed softly, the sound mingling with the remnants of your earlier moans. "You did great, Sinclair," you replied, your voice filled with genuine affection. "You were perfect."

Sinclair's eyes lit up with a mixture of pride and happiness. "Thank you," he said, his voice warm and filled with emotion. "I really enjoyed it, too. It's nice to try new things and explore together."

You nodded, feeling a sense of contentment settle over you as you lay in his arms. "I agree," you murmured, your fingers tracing patterns on his chest. "I love exploring with you."

Sinclair smiled, his hooked nose casting shadows over his intense gaze. "There's so much more I want to try," he admitted, his voice filled with excitement. "I want to keep exploring, keep learning about what we both enjoy."

You looked up at him, your eyes filled with affection. "I'm looking forward to it," you said softly, your voice filled with anticipation. "I love you, Sinclair."

Sinclair's eyes softened, his expression filled with genuine love and affection. "I love you too," he murmured, pressing a tender kiss to your forehead. "And I promise, I'll always make sure you're comfortable and happy."

You smiled, feeling a sense of warmth and security in his embrace. "I know you will," you whispered, your voice filled with confidence. "And I'll always be here, exploring and learning with you."

As you lay there, entwined in each other's arms, the world outside seemed to fade away, leaving only the two of you lost in the sweet afterglow of your shared passion. The night had been intense, filled with a delicious mix of pleasure and pain, but in that moment, all that mattered was the connection between you and Sinclair, the man who could satisfy you in ways you had never imagined.

[tagsecretsanta]

From @scribbles97

From @scribbles97 to @angelofbenignmalevolence

It was cold. 

There was ice in the air and snow promised in the heavy clouds that blanketed the city. 

If it weren’t the week of Thanksgiving, Scott might have felt that the atmosphere was perfectly fitting for Christmas. Sure, he’d been to New York plenty of times over the winter months, but that had always been for work and had involved fancy cars ferrying him from meeting to meeting. He’d missed the crisp air against his cheeks that he remembered from his childhood, and the way the city lights seemed to shine all the brighter against the backdrop of snow clouds. 

Though he had to admit, of all the cities in the world, Edinburgh hadn’t ever been high on his list of favourites. The antique charm built up around the castle was something John had always been one to appreciate, and was probably one of the reasons his brother continued to agree to guest lecture at the university. 

A city with a historic relationship with the arts, and a university that excelled in both arts and engineering -- Scott was sure there was another brother that would have been better suited to walking the historic streets. 

Hell, even Gordon might have been better, if his chatter about Sports Science at the college a few months prior had been anything to go by.

“I still don’t get,” Scott huffed, watching the ghost of his breath float away in the crisp winter air, “Why you wanted me to come with you?”

John tutted, digging his hands deeper into the pockets of his long woolen coat, “Come on Scooter, you were the only one that used to even try to keep up with my mathematics.”

Scott smiled as his mind cast itself back to far simpler times, when getting through the school day without a brother getting in trouble had been his biggest concern, and math class had been a straight race between he and his younger brother as to who could finish their work first. He remembered teachers and parents alike rolling their eyes at the quiet sibling rivalry, John had always acted like he didn’t care, but Scott had seen the fond smiles that crept through when both had stood at the same time to hand in their papers. 

Never in a million years did he anticipate simple races would end in his brother cajoling Scott to join him in Edinburgh for a week of guest-lectures. 

He had been promised he would enjoy the time away, not that he would spend the time in Astronomy lectures that went eighty percent over his head. 

Not that he would complain, despite the below freezing temperatures of the city, it was nice to get away for something non-work related. Dad had a handle on the business, and their new GDF recruits had demonstrated exceptional capabilities in supporting International Rescue. 

For the first time in years, he and John could sit and enjoy their coffee without the looming threat of some disaster. 

Well, they had been, until John had realised the time.

He had rushed them both out of the little shop and along the streets towards one of the older buildings that reminded Scott of their university days and long forgotten visits to Oxford. 

“This is the math building?” Scott frowned, catching the sign drilled into the brickwork next to the oversized old oak door, “You’re not lecturing in math this week.” 

John rolled his eyes in that fond exasperated way he always had in school when Scott had lost their races due to rushed silly mistakes. 

“Well, big brother,” He smiled, leading them up the stone stairs, turning to look at Scott as the doors opened automatically, “You might not know this, but having a name for yourself and being pretty good in your field means you can pull strings to get what you want.”

Scott paused, hand on the railing, as he looked to John, “What did you--”

John didn’t wait, stepping into the building as he explained, “Did you know Doctor MacGregor is doing a guest lecture here today, presenting her work on Banach Space and the Invariant Subspace Problem?”

Scott had known MacGregor was due to give a guest lecture on her work in the city. What he hadn’t known was that it had coincided with their trip. 

Dates of lectures were things that had long since vanished from his radar, too busy on all fronts to consider having or taking time for things that wouldn’t actively contribute to his work. 

“That isn’t even your early Christmas present.” John grinned, clearly smug with his plot, “Now, come on, I don’t plan on being late.”

He headed straight for the original stone staircase, clearly already knowing where they needed to be and how to get there.

“But--” Scott stuttered as he went to dart after his younger brother, unphased by the grand architecture of the old building, “But Doctor MacGregor! John! Do you--”

“I do.” John’s smile was wicked as he dipped a hand into his satchel, “Which is why Virgil sent me with this.”

Both ducked to the side as students tried to pass them, clearly unimpressed by being held up on their way to their own lectures.

Scott was transfixed on the data-pad John was holding out to him, something already brought up on the screen with his own familiar scrawl adorning the margins.

Scott’s annotated version of MacGregor’s previous paper.

As soon as recognition dawned, John snatched away the tablet, turning to continue up the stairs.

Scott was quick to follow, not daring to be late as his brother had said.

“But, she’ll have places to be--”

John paused at the top of the stairs, letting Scott catch up before heading down a hallway, “If by places you mean dinner on Princes Street with us, then yes, she will.”

“But--”

His younger brother raised an eyebrow as they stopped outside a lecture theatre, the doors pegged open and students still filling seats. When Scott glanced in, he could see the Doctor in question chatting to a member of faculty.

They were about to listen to a Doctor MacGregor lecture, live and in person. 

John’s hand on his shoulder grounded him before Scott could die on the spot.

“Few people enjoy math as much as you do, big brother. Besides, MacGregor was quite keen to discuss your annotations with you, though she did ask why you hadn’t pursued the area further.”

“You gave her my notes?”

Never mind, he was ready to die on the spot. 

Those notes weren’t meant to be read, they’d been rough and full of silly mistakes like those John had used to roll his eyes at. He had meant to go back after he had slept and correct them, but rescues had happened and he had all but forgotten them.

As first impressions went, it hadn’t been the one that Scott had wanted to make. 

“It’s your Christmas present, albeit a month early,” John shrugged, glancing into the theatre before looking back to Scott, “You don’t get out enough, perhaps you’ll take this as a hint to do the things you enjoy more. Doctor MacGregor was quite eager to help me convince you to go back to school.”

Scott had to admit, the astrophysics lectures that week hadn’t been the worst thing in the world. It had been soothing to listen to the explanations given of various theories, and refreshing to take the time to learn something that had nothing to do with his lines of work. 

Judging from the smug smile John had let slip again, that realisation had been part of his plan all along.

Scott couldn’t help but be grateful, not that little brothers needed to know as much.

Folding his arms, he fought his own smile, “You’re a shit.” 

John nodded, eyes drifting to the people within the theatre, “I love you too.” 

Scott reached across to him, waiting for him to meet his eye before nodding himself, putting everything that he could into the words, “Thank you.”

For all his little brothers could be a pain in his butt, he knew that they looked out for him as much as he did them.

“You’re welcome,” John’s shoulder rolled under Scott’s hand, “Can we hurry up now? We’re going to be late.” 

Chuckling to himself, Scott gestured for his brother to lead the way.

If he stumbled slightly on the steps down to the front row seats, that was between him, John, and Doctor MacGregor. 

[gunsatthaphan]

GMMTV 2024 part 1 - review

another year, another lineup, another post that no one asked for dhkgdf

But here are my thoughts on the announced shows from today (in order of announcement, BLs are marked with a 🏳️‍🌈, personal favorites are marked with a 🌟):

My Precious The Series: This project has been lingering around for 4 years now since it was announced and I'm tired lmao why are they making this into a series now??? I have many questions. I never had any desire to watch the movie, it seems like a generic coming of age drama oozing with unnecessary nostalgia so it's a pass for me. .

Ploy's Yearbook (🌟): I like this one!!!! It's giving I'm Tee Me Too but with a female ensemble cast, all of which are fantastic and also the rest of the cast is very promising and we're in for a lot of new ships - I was hoping Earth and the other 30yr olds would finally be free of the blue shorts but maybe this the last one 🤡 but anyway yes I will definitely be tuning into that one 👍🏻 .

We Are (🏳️‍🌈): I'm just gonna go ahead and assume this is the WabiSabi show because it looks terrible. Like how lazy do you have to be to just throw a bunch of BL side- and 1 mainstream couple into the same show with the most basic plot you can think of like what a joke?? WinnySatang are another side couple in this so either they're getting their actual debut show in part 2 or this has all been a scam lol. I expected a lot more, same goes for AouBoom and MarcPawin, who I was hoping would maybe get a comeback show. Also PondPhuwin going from NLMG to this is.... a choice. Don't wanna judge too fast but the trailer made it seem like no effort went into this at all. Hoping for a better end result. .

The Trainee (🏳️‍🌈): Oh look!!! It's OffGun show number 6 lmao rip. I'm not gonna comment on this matter again, I guess they'll just be around forever and that's that lmao. But anyway I'm a little confused by this show, the premise seems fun but?? I have questions lol. I'm excited to see View and Piploy though and I'll just keep an open mind. .

Only Boo (🏳️‍🌈): How did we go from Only Friends to Only Boo lmao what a downgrade. I wanted an all-newbie BL and I'm excited to finally see some new faces but I guess I fooled myself into anticipating a setting that's not highschool lmao. This is another show that I'm clearly too old for but it's also the MSP of 2024 and that ended up being nicer than expected so maybe this will be the same. We shall see. .

Pluto (🏳️‍🌈 🌟): I'm 😭😭😭 This was such a huge surprise I'm still shook lmao. Namtan and Film is not only a couple I never expected in 432 years lmao but also a very strong combination in terms of acting and I'm SO into it. They're revisiting a plot about a disability which is still something I'm dreading about Last Twilight so I guess it comes down to the director again. Let's hope they do it justice. Also the twin story could be tricky, I'm getting some Not Me vibes plot-wise but regardless the trailer looks super interesting to me, also Ciize and Kapook?? YES please. I'm so hyped for this!!!! 🥺 .

On Sale (🌟): Ghostbusters but make it TayNew? I love it lol this looks so fun, I'm very intrigued. I wasn't a huge fan of New before but he climbed up the ladder with The Warp Effect real fast because he undeniably excels at playing awkward goofy characters and this looks like another chance for him to showcase that lol. Him and Tay have always worked better as a comedic duo for me so I'm actually excited that this will be more of a bromance situation lol. Also Mook and Jan are excellent additions so I will be watching this for sure!! .

Ossan's Love Thailand (🏳️‍🌈, remake): I have very mixed feelings about this, I have not seen the original show but from what I've gathered, this does not seem fitting for EarthMix, also is it really necessary to remake another Japanese BL? But this is coming from someone who's not exactly a JBL connoisseur so I guess I'm biased. It seems that after MLC they became enthusiastic about the idea of casting EM in more mature roles which I endorse very much but aren't the people in the OG literally 40 💀 idk I'm curious to see what they make of it and also if we will ever get to see a trailer because we all know how that went with Cherry Magic lol. oh well. .

My Golden Blood (🏳️‍🌈🌟): Well well well. what do we have here. This is for sure the biggest surprise since Be My Favorite lmao I can't believe Gawin is bringing yet another retired BL actor back from the dead and this time it's supernatural kjdhgd. The vampire genre is something I never thought GMMTV would take on but like?? I'm excited?? I'm so happy to see my boy Gawin in another main role and Joss is such an interesting partner but he fits the genre very well imo lol. Also Neo and Mond?? I'm so ready. Hoping for a release around Halloween next year for obvious reasons lol ✌🏻 .

Kidnap (?): Another show another confusion lmao this looks like Double Savage 2.0 to me, Ohm is caught in another mafia situation but this time not with his brother but with someone who's either a bro or a 💖 bro 💖 lmao but this smells like bromance to me. Ohm would never. And besides that I'm not really intrigued. next. .

Summer Night: This is kinda strange because everything about this seems like a BL but... it's not? the first 30 seconds had me convinced PhuwinDunk were gonna be the new thing on the block lmao but yeah apparently not. If I squint my eyes I would think this is Hidden Agenda 2 but with more girls lol and tbh I expected another JD series but regardless the plot seems a bit generic to me so I'm on the fence about it for now. .

Wandee Goodday (🏳️‍🌈): This looks like the Walmart version of Only Friends tbh but guess what I'm on board lmao. It's AllThis Entertainment's new project which means no Eclipse Season 2 (thank god). Great and Inn are a pair I did not see coming and tbh I did not expect Great to even take on a BL role to begin with but I'm intrigued! The director has been moving on a vast spectrum of different genres lately and this is another one that's completely different from their previous works. But I'm excited. It looks kinky and violent. perfect. .

Highschool Frenemy: All I'm seeing is people beating each other up and calling each other friends afterwards so yeah. not my thing. next. .

My Love Mix-Up (🏳️‍🌈, remake): I'm not a huge fan of this, not just because I didn't like the original but because I was hoping to see GemFourth in a different setting. I'm confident they can do it justice though and deliver a good outcome, especially regarding the comedy, but other than that this isn't going on my watchlist for now. .

conclusion: this was a wild rollercoaster lol, every trailer was a stressful game of Het, Gay or Bromance lmao - The majority of this lineup was not to my liking but then again I appreciated the variety because from puppy love highschool romance to gay vampires is a spectrum you really can't complain about lmao. My 2 highlights for now are Pluto and My Golden Blood simply because they're both a massive surprise that they kept very well hidden lol, I'm also intrigued by Wandee Goodday and Ploy's Yearbook because those have great ensemble casts.

One thing I'm missing from the BL lineup though is a genuine romance, something that's deep and genuine and more mature. What they announced seems fun but for the most part either silly or drowned out by 32 couples at the same time lol. so I really hope we will get something a little more serious that also talks about lgbt issues in part 2; Something like Be My Favorite would be nice, maybe minus the supernatural element.

I did not expect them to announce 15 series already, considering this is only part 1 so who knows what part 2 will bring. I'm expecting FK to make an appearance as well as PerthChimon since they are the only 2 couples that have not shown up, also possibly JoongDunk because I can't imagine they would separate them just yet. Looking forward to December! ✌🏻

Don't hesitate to drop your thoughts below! 🧡

xxx

[spontaneousglitterbees]

It's been mentioned that Kokichi has some phantom pains and he has clear mobility issues (love that btw as someone who uses a cane), so I was curious how the rest of the class is doing in that regard. Does Kaito ever struggle to breathe or have coughing fits? Do Rantaro and Angie get migraines?

[Talent Acquisition Pilot Program AU Masterpost]

This one. This one got away from me.

tl;dr: Absolutely, Anon, we are on very similar pages! This ask really got me thinking about how the whole TAPP!cast is doing fresh out of the Killing Game. Every student in Class 79 is going through something, about now, be it physical or mental; in fact, it’s usually both.

Also: for sure, I want to try and be relatively true-to-life with their struggles, especially Kokichi’s. I write from personal experience living with chronic pain, but haven’t used a cane before. Apologies if I miss the mark at any point.

Obligatory disclaimer: I am not a healthcare professional of any kind and the AU’s premise is largely sci-fi, so there may be inaccuracies. That said, I am fascinated with biomechanics and always looking to learn, so I’m trying to keep things at least semi-plausible.

Full spoilers for Danganronpa V3 (and some for the end of SDR2) ahead!

Very Long Loredump (~6.2k words) under the cut:

HOW COULD THIS HAPPEN?

Everyone is traumatized. That much is obvious, sure, but the Talent Acquisition Pilot Program (TAPP) is a virtual reality simulator based on the bones of the Neo World Program (NWP). In much the way SDR2’s NWP is purported to replicate death in the simulation in the players’ real bodies, the TAPP simulation is built to alter the brain chemistry of its participants. TAPP builds muscle memory and ‘burns’ new neural pathways to a participant’s Default Mode Network (DMN), a collective term for parts of the brain responsible for letting us “autopilot” common tasks like riding a bike or typing on a keyboard. The V3 cast’s experiences in the simulation impact their real bodies in a very literal sense to ‘speedrun’ them through orientation at Hope’s Peak and mainstream them in the curriculum as quickly as possible so its researchers can start collecting useful data on the merits of HPA for investors.

The problem is, nobody programming TAPP anticipated they would start killing each other.

Class 79 were the first human test subjects for the program with zero peer review or board approval, of course, because HPA is morally dubious and can pass off “dude, trust me” as genuine credentials to several world governments. Even if this massive oversight was not noticed until after the fact, V1 of TAPP did at least include one quasi-safety feature: if any player became “significantly injured”, that player would be ejected from the simulation. Everyone else would be locked in the simulation (in case one of them was involved and tried to evade consequences) until an administrator could come and manually assess the situation. In theory, the physically-unharmed student could rejoin the simulation once the conflict was resolved.

But TAPP was built to write data to the brain. It was not built to identify what data it’s actually writing, and cannot differentiate between playing the piano and getting smashed in a hydraulic press. Data is data.

It does not help that Team Danganronpa (the group of Reserve Course kids, including Tsumugi) are foolish teenagers entirely unaware of this, assuming that “none of it is real, so none of it will actually matter! we’re just scaring them!” While skimming through the code and thoroughly Knowing Not What They Do, they manage to remove any defined cap for what constitutes ‘significant injury’ before player ejection. The only flag that can set it off is a lack of any other player flags. Virtual death.

This is where Rantaro earns the title of “Ultimate Survivor”. The shotput ball put him down too quickly for the damage to be fully reflected in his physical body, so he managed to get ejected with post-concussive symptoms, short-term memory issues, and persistent migraines instead of fully dying. Were his method of death much slower, he’d likely have been screwed (and wouldn’t have Komaeda’s luck cycle to save him).

Time scales differently in TAPP than in the physical world; while Rantaro’s been at the virtual Academy for several days, the students have been strapped in their pods for a few hours at most. Between the Responsible Older Sibling Energy seared over the person he may have been before and an extant knack for escape room puzzles, Amami is The Man with the skills and motivation to call in backup.

It’s a good thing he did, too! Their “observer”, having tired of watching a bunch of students play the piano and run around outside, only figures out something has gone horribly wrong the moment Rantaro practically busts down the door. The next tense hour-plus is spent doing damage control and imposing limits on the code of the simulation to prevent TAPP from letting the students actually die. Unfortunately, the TDR kids and their takeover took a sizeable chunk out of the spaghetti code holding the whole thing together in their haste. TDR, with proposed talents like Ultimate Cosplayer on their side, are primarily concerned with artistry and are only competent-enough programmers. As a result, there is no obvious way to manually override the lock completely and just let the students out without significant defragging, even as TDR members are still actively messing with the code, and who knows how long that will take. (About 6-ish chapters)

Instead, for now, they’ll have to settle for putting as many programming-adjacent talents as possible on the case and exploit a loophole that panicking overseer managed to write: if the remaining students are systematically ejected, the program will bypass the lock and let them out. During the rescue operation, the main objective is first to minimize the physical damage TAPP can inflict by lowering the tolerance required to eject the students (which is easier said than done) and by dampening its neural-carving functions, then to get everyone left out of there.

It is a very good thing they sprung into action as quickly as they did, as it doesn’t take long for Kaede to arrive.

KAEDE

The first thing Kaede notices coming out of the simulation is that she can’t hum the notes to get back on-pitch after the worst rendition of Der Flohwalzer she has ever heard. The second thing she notices, because it is far easier to be angry about something trivial than face the slow-dawning realization you are having, is that she can only barely speak. It hurts.

I think Kaede learns to sign early on, but still finds herself trying to speak aloud anyway since she’s so used to having her hands busy already playing piano. Shuichi often reminds her to take it easy, treat it like a vocal rest, and steadily she begins to improve. She is as exuberant as ever, with determination fitting of our protagonist. Kaede is the Class 79 representative, though with his renewed confidence Shuichi often accompanies her. Not only are they best friends (though it is strange, at first, to see her alive after spending so long grieving. Kaede last saw him, like, yesterday.) and Kaede will inevitably tell Shuichi all about the meeting anyway so why not cut out the middle man,  but Shuichi initially came specifically to speak at meetings so Kaede wouldn’t strain her voice. She is immensely proud.

RANTARO (PT. 2)

Rantaro doesn’t hold the shotput ball against her; desperate times, and all. It made sense her proactive attitude would make her first to act for the ‘greater good’. She aimed to end the whole thing, not just comply. Even if she swung and missed, he (an older brother with faint recollections of failing to protect the people depending on him and guilt knowing he doesn’t have the stomach to take a victim and thus will be failing people in need of protection again) can’t fault her for swinging. She is confused when he asks her how she launched the ball that hard, though. Odd.

TENKO

Tenko has neck pain issues like Kaede, but hers are more acute. The seesaw effect was heinous but relatively precise; as the magnum opus of TDR’s homebrewed serial killer, they un/fortunately made him pretty good at it when he has a plan. Tenko has some of the least devastating lingering physical injuries of the class. Given the severity of her classmates’ injuries, though, that still leaves her with minor vocal strain, susceptibility to sore throats, and severe neck pain, among other things.

A lot of Tenko’s lingering trauma is mental: she isn’t quite as willing to immediately throw herself into the fray to help her friends, and certainly doesn’t want to leave her back exposed (a tendency she shares with Kokichi, of all people). While it did numbers on her perception of men again for a while, hearing about the trial left her with a lot to reconcile. In a ‘cool-motive-still-murder’ way, she does not forgive Kiyo (nor is she obligated to) but doesn’t hate him as much as she expected, either. Processing the idea that a girl could be horribly abusive, especially to a guy, and catalyze a cycle of violence… gets to her. She’s more wrapped up in the tragedy of the entire situation than the righteous indignation that’d fueled her for so long. Everybody lost that day.

She’s pleasantly surprised to see Himiko trying to lift her spirits now. Those two have a lot to talk about and boundaries to set, yes, but Tenko is still touched Himiko took her words to heart and seems to be benefiting from it.

ANGIE

Angie had bit more complicated situation than Tenko, getting KO’d before the fatal blow. Her migraines come on more often than Rantaro’s with high light, which is a special kind of awful for the SHSL Artist, but they’re generally closer to a dull ache. Once she gets going on a project she sets out to grin and bear it; Tenko and Himiko often check up on her. She does her best to stay just as upbeat as in the simulation, and if anything it seems more genuine now. She can actually relax, rather than mind-game her way to relative (unsteady) peace under duress.

(Angie is really interesting to me for many adjacent reasons to Kokichi, since they’re both willing to get morally gray and manipulative if it’ll keep everyone from killing each other. Angie-Kokichi compare contrast essay when?)

She hasn’t “forgiven” Kiyo either, but isn’t hostile while she evaluates whether or not his conviction in getting help and being better is genuine. She was pretty heavily affected by TDR’s “character rewrites” as well, after all, and empathizes with the feeling you’ve been used as a glorified dress-up doll. To some unknowable extent, she is a different person now, and it is frightening.

She’s trying to step back and re-analyze her sense of spirituality, particularly how it relates to her art. It’s existentially harrowing, having been made to toe the line between faith and fronting to either get people to either listen to her or not see her as a threat. She’s not even positive “Kami-sama” (not going with the localization here, my understanding is the Japanese version was deliberately more generic and at least a bit less disrespectful towards real people and their beliefs) is the same deity she’d believed in before TAPP, but it’s difficult to try and reconnect with your roots when none of you have any information on your previous lives.

They do, at least, have a resident anthropologist that might have a clue how to even start looking.

Hah. They sure do, huh.

I think Angie is the type to nominally forgive and never, ever forget. She holds the kind of grudge that lives beyond logic as all the compartmentalized emotions you don’t want to admit you have. A grudge that co-exists with an active desire to move on and seeps into her art.

KOREKIYO

Kiyo got burned.

Alive.

Also dead, somehow, an extension of the Ultimate Placebo Effect we have going on in the simulation; Kiyo was so certain ghosts were real and he’d be one that, through earnest conviction, the simulation made it so. I think this is how Komaeda’s luck works in SDR2 as well; the original Neo World Program was developed for therapy, and in doing so assesses whether or not it would be completely devastating (do more harm than good) to actively disprove something about the patient’s worldview at that time and adapts the environment accordingly. Hence you get a reality-warping luck cycle and ghosts are Definitely Real. Is either true in the outside world? No idea! Komaru talks to a ghost in UDG, once, but considering it’s unclear if Kiyo’s sister was ever a living person to begin with there are bigger fish to fry.

Or not. He’s pretty damn-well aware much that hurts. Or at least being boiled and seasoned does. Going by that kind of simulator-logic, I think in a technical sense it was the salt that killed him, not the torture. There’s probably something to unpack there I haven’t fully explored yet.

Rumors start going around campus that Kiyo is a vampire. It makes enough sense for watercooler gossip, the mask covering up fangs and an aversion to lingering out in the sun; Class 79 knows it’s actually because sunburn, for him, is a new brand of Unfun. He prefers to hole up in the library or his lab anyway, so it could be worse. He’s honestly kind of into becoming a school cryptid. It helps transition him from “avoiding my classmates and other people because they hate me, i also hate me, and we are all correct to do so. i am an extension of her so it does not matter what i want” towards “i am not my past, i cannot make up for what ive done but i can move forward and be better, i am forging a new self and it is mine this time and it always should have been”.

(Kokichi is particularly proud of having kickstarted the cryptid thing. Of course Shinguji would love to watch the evolution of new local lore in real time! Now he doesn’t mope in the corner half as much. He’s still in the corner, granted, but its probably reading while Rantaro sits next to him on his phone instead of moping!)

Kiyo’s also in therapy now. They all have therapy scheduled into their school weeks, but Kiyo has a session besides. Fabrication or not, everyone’s backstories are functionally now ‘real’ and need to be dealt with. Kiyo, Maki, and Kokichi got hit particularly hard on that front. Those scars run deep, but are starting to heal.

Of the students with whole-body injuries, Kiyo probably has the most manageable physical symptoms at this stage. He has to have long sleeves and generally keep as covered as he can so that he can subdue the part of his mind that expects the skin is still raw and flaking (it isn’t, but phantom sensations suck). Overheating pushes him toward a panic state like the end of his trial, which doesn’t exactly gel with the first point, but he’s working on it. Rantaro and Kokichi, occasionally Shuichi, tend to notice and start to defuse the situation. Part of me wonders if he’d have a black lace parasol on sunny days to lean in to the ‘mystery’ around him, plus for the sheer Aesthetic of it.

KIRUMI

Speaking of full-body injuries: Kirumi. She has similar ‘got-to-keep-covered’ issues to Kiyo, particularly wearing heavier work gloves now just to minimize any potential for cuts (and, in the back of her mind, ropeburn). Breaking several bones on impact was rough, though fast enough that she’s had remarkable improvement in a relatively short period of time. She started out on crutches, which made it difficult for her to keep up with her workaholic inclinations, but unlike some of the other students she has at least an idea of “when to quit” as not to make things worse. She’s still genuinely lost some bone density resulting from her treatment and coping methods, finding that she really does need to lean on her friends on occasion, but she is still resolute she is a care-giver, damn it. On both physical and mental fronts she’s dealing with reclaiming her agency and independence.

Kirumi is one of the few, with Maki, whose talent courses actively discourage the kinds of behavior they need for personal growth and mental health maintenance. Kirumi is still reconciling her “rewrite”, the encoded passivity in her and clash of her “selfless devotion” against her own will to live and thrive, a nightmarish reminder that You Are Not Your Own. The “Ultimate” maid needs to be agreeable, to follow orders, and hasn’t the tampering just improved her proficiency at her craft? Why be so upset? Never mind having to reconstruct her proper ability to tell people “no”, having to re-learn it’s okay to do things for yourself; according to her programmed instinct, her classes, those very things are antithetical to her talent. And everything relies on that talent, doesn’t it?

Kirumi and Kokichi are the two in Class 79 who were discharged with mobility devices that got students in the other classes… more than mildly concerned about what the hell happened to all of these freshmen (well, first year at HPA anyway), but luckily for HPA administration they’re also probably the two people least likely to offer details.

THE RIBS

There are enough students who have chest pain and associated issues that they made a club about it. It started out as Miu, Ryoma, and Kaito all independently concluding there was no way in hell they were making it through a mile run and sitting on the bleachers. Once they’d had an opportunity to gather themselves again, they do as teens are wont to do and started talking to each other. Hypoxia is an oddly effective experience to bond over. They call themselves the RIBs, standing for “Respiratory-Issue Beleaguered” (students), mostly because it made Miu laugh and for as irritating as the sound could be they’d missed it.

Kaede, Tenko, Gonta, and Kokichi also stop by from time-to-time, meaning precisely half of the 14 active Class 79 students revolving-door through this unofficial student group. HPA took notice. Class 79 has its own gym class, now, taking into account the state of everyone. One could argue that should have been the case from the onset. They would be correct.

RYOMA

Ryoma is fairly elusive. He generally keeps to himself and remains a Fairly Chill Guy with a cool temperament everyone wants to emulate (he doesn’t see what they see in him) and some Complicated Feelings now knowing he hasn’t killed anyone in the certified Real World and, by logic, should not have to have the memories of a hardened prisoner. He still does.  The persistent rasp in his voice now surprises nobody, but it took a few days for everyone in the class to stop flinching a little hearing it. He frequently hangs out in the animal shed with Gonta, Gundham, and Peko to take care of the cats.

MIU

We’ve seen quite a bit of Miu in the AU so far, but to recap a lot of her deal:

She loathes having to “take it easy” but will do so reluctantly

She tries to talk less to stretch out her working time as much as she can (even if she can’t resist just a little banter when Kokichi swings by)

She’s trying to approach her death with a sense of humor. A choker with a huge heart-shaped buckle replaces her usual necklaces with full awareness of the irony. Ha-ha, a choker. It’s a dare for anybody to bring it up, ‘I’ve said it before anyone else could’. The first thing she did waking up was try and make an autoerotic asphyxiation joke. It did not make her feel better like she thought it would.

Miu spends most of her time in her lab, now. Granted, she did that already, but she’s particularly fixated on re-creating a certain Ultimate Robot, ground-up if she has to. Fortunately, she has a team assembled (re: two upperclassmen and the Ultimate Supreme Shit-for-brains). We’ll see how this pans out soon enough.

When not re-building Kiibo outright, she ““takes a break”” innovating in other areas (re: prototyping potential features for kIIbo, usually testing them on a bored Kokichi. He usually complies because Miu is one of the few who doesn’t look at him with a patronizing amount of pity she’s Not boring. Mm-hmm. All there is to it.)

Miu does not resent Gonta (or Kokichi, for that matter) for killing her. There's a small extent to which she's a little relieved she was stopped from going through with her plan to kill Kokichi, and a much bigger disconnect between her idea of reality and her memory of Chapter 4. Miu died in a VR game within another VR game. Having messed around with the programming and guts of the nested simulation personally, it still seems fake. She didn't really die, no matter how real it felt; they were in a simulation. Logically, she's well aware of how it works and the consequences, but it doesn't feel like it was more than a glorified fever dream on an emotional level. Both Gonta and Kokichi are more outwardly traumatized by her death than Miu as a byproduct of how she's processing it. She's not "better off" or "less impacted" so much as "disassociated from the whole thing and very much wanting to put it behind them before it catches up with her", thus burying herself in work and trying as hard as she can to bring back the one person she wants to comfort her.

Kiibo's absence is not great for her abandonment issues. It is hard to blame him when he never had a physical body to begin with, though. 

GONTA

Gonta is also with the RIBs, and reeling from it the most visibly of everyone on account of just how. Much, his death was. An allergic reaction blocking off the air, puncturing at least one lung for certain, and living long enough to feel the shrapnel of the laptop lodge into the wound alongside the scythe, the fire quickly eating away any oxygen, any hope of gasping another breath… yeah no he acts as much the gentleman as ever but he is not okay. As Resident Buff Nature Boy Gonta tanked it better than anyone else in the class could have, but the sheer excess of the thing gets to him. Fond memories of setting a campfire in the woods with his adoptive family are overwritten, vespidae in general… hitting differently. But Gonta is kind, to a fault. More resolute than ever to make himself into a kind of person not perceived as ‘too intimidating’ to be friends with, acknowledging the capacity he has for violence is difficult. Somewhere deep down he knows that everybody does, especially in their circumstances, but still acts as though his case is exceptionally bad (nobody else does. This does not deter him, becoming a little less gullible when its least helpful).

He is also not as disconcerted by the occasional spontaneous sensation that your insides are going to lose structural integrity, even with no stitches to pop, that with only the damaged wake and no piercing sharp pain to focus on and blame for the mess could potentially be perceived as a bizarre, abstracted kind of crawling feeling from the inside-out. Things in motion, displaced from where they are meant to be. He knows it isn’t bugs, isn’t glass and metal and plastic, that it isn’t anything but himself. A teeny-tiny part of him wishes it were. At least being shelter for a hive of some sort would be helpful. Aren’t gentlemen helpful, they improve life for people, make things better and how could anyone even look at you again knowing what you’re capable of, who in their right mind would talk to you, you’re going to end up alone again talking to stray cats in the alley since not even the wolves would stay—

Gonta also has extra therapy. He already had to work out self-worth issues, but the game pushed them to interfere too much in daily life not to actively work on.

KAITO

Kaito has made several background and supporting appearances without much central attention just yet. It's not that I don't like him or anything (I do!) but I guess because it seems like well-worn territory in V3 fic to me? Kaito is endlessly proud of Maki and Shuichi (Himiko too, less personally) for "winning" in the face of the killing game, and the training trio of them meet back up again regularly. Only.

It's different, now. 

He's no longer sick and dying, but his lungs 'top out' at a certain level of activity and refuse to take in more air, this burning sensation that leaves him only able to huff and wheeze and brings his training regiment to a dead stop. He treasures those last moments in his failed execution where he got to see the stars, because a lingering anxiety in the back of his mind won't let him forget that he never will again. Not the way he'd dreamed of, the way he'd planned to, the way he'd centered his identity around. There is no way, as things are, that he will pass all the physical exams to become a proper astronaut. 

The drawn-out deterioration of his health during the simulation chipped away at his physical lungs at a rate too gradual for the countermeasures the rescue team implemented; TAPP did more overt physical damage to Kaito than anyone else. It could certainly be worse and he is gradually improving, but some degree of it is permanent. It haunts him. He's trying not to think about it.

It does, though, drive a wedge between him and his sidekicks; the survivors are planning their futures, and Kaito is not too far from a slight tailspin without any idea what his might look like for the first time he can recall. Space has been the dream since he was a kid (as has getting there in this specific role) and it almost feels like a rejection. Like he got too cocky, and the cosmos decided it didn't want him. 

It starts to make a little more sense, then, that he starts willingly hanging out with Kokichi. They went through the hangar together, of course, but even besides the traumabond (and a need to, after he woke from his coma, make sure the little brat is still alive, damn it, you can't run away anymore it counts now) but. If anyone else gets having such drastically shifted circumstances that life as you'd imagined it no longer makes logistical sense, it's probably the leader without an organization. There's no need to explain the feelings of inadequacy, or the aimlessness, going through the motions of classes and formal education because what the hell else am I going to do, right now? It's familiar. 

Kokichi needs someone willing to chase him, no matter how circuitous the route becomes. Kaito needs someone willing to shake him by the shoulders and snap him out of his own head, so sure it's all-or-nothing and that if he can't be the Luminary as he'd dreamed of it whatever happens next is immaterial in comparison. Kaito needs to adapt and roll with the punches, Kokichi needs to double back from his logical leaps from point A to point Q and articulate his thoughts clearly to other people (at least some of the time.) The two of them concoct little daily and weekly rituals, like Kokichi stealing Kaito's notebook and drawing in it, just because the consistency of company reminds them both that they aren't the only one going through this. 

None of the other students quite get it, but have come to accept it.

KOKICHI

Then there’s Kokichi.

Ah, Kokichi, whose whole deal in this scenario inspired me to write about this AU at all (and who manages to weasel his way into every comic and a other entries in these notes) . I’m biased, I know, but there are also a few reasons he’s singled out in-universe as well:

A) So a hydraulic press does not slam down quickly. The pause-and-play of the video deliberately makes it look much faster than it was; watching enough of the hydraulic press channel makes it abundantly clear that it was not instant. Kokichi was impaled with two crossbow bolts (the one in the back being bad enough already), poisoned by those bolts, and then pressed. He had to have felt non-zero of the Pressing, which, considering it already had to be agony before bones started breaking… the rest of the class might not have been fond of him, sure, but he’s right there with Gonta on “sheer level of excess.” Not even Maki is at a point of wishing that on him. Not after finding out how drawn out and excruciating it was. Veering into headcanon, I’m going to add “sleep deprivation” on the pile as exacerbating the whole thing, given his conspiracy whiteboard and everything after the concussion, honestly.

Combined with the World’s Worst Placebo Effect, King Horse takes the crown for top “my entire body hurts most of the time” severity. It’s not a desirable one, but when your previous life is all but erased there is exactly one choice available between Big and Home. Let it be said Kokichi Ouma has never half-assed anything he’s set his mind to, ever.

B) Ouma is paranoid and distrusting, which adds the psychological angle of “you literally shot me in the back” to a poison-laced crossbow bolt in his mind. TAPP will very literally never let him forget the bolt burying itself in the muscle of his back, barely kept from severing his spinal cord; he won’t forget the shivering and shaking from the poison, or the bile rising in the back of his throat handing Kaito the antidote. (He still wanted to live. He forfeit the right, he thought, after getting Gonta and Miu killed, but he still wanted to. That was all the more reason to quadruple-down on the press idea and making their three deaths mean something, damn it. Three, because Kaito could live. If the killing game ends there is no execution. It’ll be over. Can’t take back the past, but at least one of the pair of you has to walk out of this forsaken place!)

(… Can you really believe that? Or is it just another lie.

A lie you want, with all the heart they’re so sure you do not have, to blithely believe. There has to be a cure for whatever the hell has gotten into Kaito once the game ends and they can look for it, it might even stop cold the moment the game ends. That dumbass space cadet can go back to his sidekicks and he better appreciate it, the comradery you’ll never have, because he is the designated Hero and Heroes get happy endings. You want-want-want-want to trust in that lie, to trust him with the collected thoughts and notes and pieces of you spilled across reams of paper that have been so pointlessly important for you to keep secret this whole time. For once in your life, you want to believe you will not be betrayed. You want to believe in the closest thing you have left to a friend.

It will, in fact, be the last thing you do.)

C) Ouma is paranoid and distrusting. Again. Only this flavor has more to do with his persistent denial anything is wrong, in turn making things a lot worse for himself. Mental trauma and impressions of physical sensations can have physical effects. Clinging to his persona and trying to keep bouncing around like nothing ever happened turned a very difficult but potentially manageable condition into small amounts of permanent nerve damage within the first day of waking up. It screws with his coordination; just what he needed at a school that prizes talent above all else, when he is a leader with no organization and proficiencies in sleight of hand, forgery, lockpicking, and generally evading anything that might threaten him because he can’t take very many hits.

Whoops.

D) Kokichi was last of the class to wake up from the simulation, even after the survivors. They thought he was actually dead for a bit. Just when they were thinking of  giving up on him Kokichi Ouma, SHSL Stubborn Son of a Bitch, refuses to stay down for the count.

HPA already knew Class 79 would need accommodations on account of their negligence, but it became much harder to sweep things under the rug when they thought they’d actually killed a student. Even worse, thirteen witnesses have been actively fraternizing and scaled the flashback-gaslighting required to cover it up to easily exceed what their current technology is capable of.

Half the class was positive Ouma was playing dead specifically to fuck with them and light the fire under them to act. He and Kaito are the only ones to know without a shred of doubt that he was not. He still gladly takes the credit, though.

E) Class 79 as a whole already adapted to Ouma Being Ouma, so when the definition of ‘Being Ouma’ expanded he’s still pretty distinct. He hangs out around the people closest to him often, particularly Miu, Kaito, and Rantaro, but the entire class knows now that he’s pretty much beyond the point of perfidy. Even if he were to lie about being in more pain than he is at a given moment, there’s constantly enough underlying truth in how vulnerable he is that it’s not strategically worth trying to use as a manipulative tactic. It’s too real. Plus, he knows better than to boy-that-cried-wolf his way out of help from his classmates after getting lost on campus once and fainting before he found his way back.

K1-B0

K1-B0, as far as has been established, is being re/built. Miu is spearheading the project. Presumably, he is currently hanging out on at least one computer in the school, somewhere. Per the AU, though, Chapter 6 did go a bit differently than canon, so we’ll catch up with him soon.

TSUMUGI

Nobody is exactly certain what happened to Shirogane. Or, at the very least, nobody in the class knows. Admin is certainly not about to tell them. Wouldn’t it be just like the Ultimate Cosplayer to Theseus her way back into their lives following a single loose thread…

THE SURVIVORS

Shuichi, Maki, and Himiko each emerged from the simulation minimally physically harmed in a lasting sense beyond initial fatigue from being hooked up for so long. Each is still moving forward on their established character arc: Himiko is finding her motivation, Maki is learning to open up, and Shuichi is becoming more sure of himself and his detective abilities.

I think Himiko begins embracing the 'stage' side of her magic, considering that TAPP was blocking my mana, and you know what? I survived a killing game, and I didn't even need it. What else can I do without my mana? As time goes on, she'll likely value her own practical skills more rather than relying on her want of more fantastical powers. Not to say she'd disown them, but more that she could admit to herself it's more for fun than a need to affix something exceptional to her identity. She is enough as she is.

Maki enters HPA and immediately requests transfer out of 'Ultimate Assassin' classes. She hates fighting, per canon, and after going through the simulation she is no longer afraid of any authority figure that may deny her because she has certifiably seen worse. She initially tries to pivot and become the Ultimate Child Caregiver, for Real This Time; she is genuinely pretty good with kids. After a little incident nearly choking Kokichi, though? It confirms what she'd been afraid of all along: her patience is too thin, her instinct to defend too heavy on the trigger. She talks to Peko about it, among other people, Mukuro and Sakura chief among the other classes. She'd made their acquaintances during combat training in the first few days at HPA. She especially confides in Kaede, who carries a more-domestic-less-battlescorn perspective on it she can't help but appreciate. Kaede takes her to not-Claire's, playing with accessories and make-up and generally reclaiming some of the girlhood Maki has effectively never been allowed to have. In the whole process, Maki realizes she wants more than anything to protect the ability to have that kind of frivolity, that freedom: she changes tracks again, to become a SHSL Bodyguard.

Shuichi is a difficult one to place for me, exactly. He's in a state of becoming significantly more confident in the wake of the simulation, but the deviation from canon has turned the main conflict away from ending a destructive cycle and towards fighting the idea of predetermination by an external force. Shirogane was predetermined to stay in the Reserve Course despite her skills and aspirations, and railed against it; Kiibo was predetermined to be an AI helper and not a person, but embraced the role so hard he developed a soul of his own; Maki denies her talent and changes her destiny, Himiko embraces hers.

I suppose Saihara must fall somewhere in the middle, then. An observer steadfastly declaring that yes, there were aspects of life shaped for them beyond their control (entry into the simulation if they wanted a taste of success, the killing game, the "character rewrites" overriding the people they were before...) and yes they cannot control everything. What happened has happened. There are always going to be things you can't control (like how severely you burn in the sun, or whether you get headaches with the lights up too high, or even if your dream life rockets away too fast for you to catch unless you want to lose what you still have) but you can adapt to it. It's tempting to give in, to consider it all a lost cause, to submit to the forces you feel are puppeting you, but see. You keep living anyway, because you have to. The only way forward is through. Even if you were a puppet, you're still an independent you, and that means something. Maybe you can't snap your strings, but you can sure as hell stretch them out and bend them in a way you like better than this one.

Not having total control doesn't mean the control you do have doesn't matter.

So Shuichi is taking up cases as a detective, now. Seeing how he likes it. If not? Well. Skills are transferable. 

He'll be okay.

They all will.

----

(The first screenshot I took of this ask to begin drafting vs. the last one:

I'm sorry I am bad at timely responses but I hope they are Good.)

[rhysdarbinizedarby]

Rhys’s Pieces: Interview with ‘Jumanji: Welcome to the Jungle’ Actor Rhys Darby

by: Jesse Rifkin • December 20 2017

Jumanji: Welcome to the Jungle, one of the most anticipated films of this holiday season, stars Dwayne “The Rock” Johnson, Kevin Hart, and Jack Black as players who accidentally get sucked into a dangerous videogame world of magic and attacking animals.

Rhys Darby portrays Nigel, a guide to the newcomers in the videogame world, who entrusts them with their mission: returning a sacred jewel called the Jaguar’s Eye to the distant statue where it belongs. Darby is best known to American audiences for comedic roles as Jim Carrey’s boss in Yes Man and inept band manager Murray Hewitt in the 2000s HBO show Flight of the Conchords.

Ahead of the film’s December 20 theatrical release, Darby spoke to Boxoffice about filming in Hawaii, the children’s book he started writing on the set, and how his training in the New Zealand Army helped prepare him for the role.

What was it like working with this cast?

Amazing. The Rock is so huge in every way. He has a connection to New Zealand. He actually went to a school in New Zealand when he was a kid. And he’s from Samoa. [Johnson is of Samoan heritage, though he was born and primarily raised in America.] So there was kind of a spiritual connection there. I felt like I already knew him. When we hung out a bit on set, he knew who I was from Conchords. He was very upbeat and fun to be around.

Was it disappointing working with The Rock, after you grew up in New Zealand which already has the world’s largest rock?

That’s in Australia. You’ve got to do your research!

I did my research. I am speaking to Hugh Jackman, right?

Absolutely! [Laughs.]

What was it like shooting in Hawaii? Had you ever been there before?

That’s right, Oahu. I had been a few times. I love Hawaii, it’s a very special place. So it was fantastic to be able to shoot there. I do this TV show called Wrecked [airing on TBS, about a group of people stranded on an island] and we film on a tropical island as well. We started in Puerto Rico, then we did season 2 in Fiji. So I feel like a lot of my acting work seems to be in tropical islands.

When you were a soldier in real life, where were you stationed? Were you ever on an island then?

I was on the island of New Zealand! [Laughs.] I was in the north island, then the south island. But I never left New Zealand with the army.

Did you use any of what you learned as a soldier when performing your role as Nigel? He’s a tough guy trekking in nature.

It’s really a mind fit, that kind of outdoorsman. I’ve certainly been that in the past. I enjoy adventure, it’s one of the things I do. I mean, I’ve climbed Mount Kilimanjaro in real life. I’ve wandered through Rwanda looking for mountain gorillas. So for me, those kind of experiences, wearing that kind of outfit and driving a Land Rover, is almost second nature. I used to drive Land Rovers in the New Zealand Army.

Did you see the original Jumanji when it was released in 1995? How much were you guys trying to go for an original Jumanji vibe, versus doing your own thing?

I think I probably saw it a few years later, on video. They liked to keep the spirit of the original, but definitely do a new thing. We couldn’t copy the original, that one was so good. This was rebooting the world, but modernizing it and turning it into a video game. That was the big difference, which I think is going to be great for the kids. I’d love to say that board games are coming back, and I think they might be. But I know most kids can relate to the video game concept more.

You co-host a podcast called The Cryptid Factor, about fictional or mythical animals. Were there any that you tried to get included in this film? Which mythical animal would you have most wanted to see included?

In the Jumanji world, there are pretty regular animals, except they’re a lot bigger than in real life. So they are gigantic and they seem to be a bit possessed. They’re quite dangerous. If I was to add any animal into this world, it would be something like the Mongolian death worm. [The animal, rumored but never confirmed, is an enormous worm supposedly residing in the Gobi Desert]. That would have fit in there. Obviously, it wouldn’t be Mongolian. Maybe the Jumanjian death worm.

What’s your best Jack Black story?

Nick Jonas [the superstar pop singer who plays a pilot named Jefferson “Seaplane” McDonough] contacted me and invited me out to dinner with Jack Black. We went out and had dinner one night. That’s the only context in which the three of us would ever be together!

I didn’t hang out with those guys [the stars of the cast] or anything like that. I was mostly just alone in my hotel. I only worked about seven days, but I was trapped in Hawaii for two months, because the scenes I was in were predominantly either in the Land Rover or some other backstory scene wandering through the jungle. They were waiting for it to rain to film my scenes, for some reason. It was all very weirdly determined. And it never rained! So I just sort of waited, going slowly insane. Then finally I got brought on to the set.

That must have been terrible, spending two months in paradise not working but still getting paid.

I spent that time writing a book! It hasn’t come out yet. It’s a children’s book. I’m still working on it. It’s an adventure book about a 12-year-old who goes on this crazy adventure to find his parents.

Your standup has generally been pretty alternative, Flight of the Conchords was rated TV-MA, [Darby’s previous film] What We Do in the Shadows was rated R. Now you’re doing a children’s book and a family movie. Is this a new direction you’re trying to go in your career?

I naturally go towards stuff that is more friendly, less violent. I think it’s just the jobs I’ve gotten. I also do Voltron [a Netflix original animated series in which Darby voices the royal advisor Coran]. That lets me do funny character work that all ages can enjoy. I’ll do whatever is funny. If we can keep that in the zone for younger people to laugh at as well, that actually means I have to be cleverer.

AT THE MOVIES

What is your favorite moviegoing memory or experience?

It would have to be going back to childhood, seeing Return of the Jedi in this amazing cinema in Auckland called The Civic. It’s gloriously decorated on the inside. It has gold lions on stage whose eyes light up. The whole ceiling is kind of like space, it’s all twinkling stars. You feel like you’re in another world. I got to see Return of Jedi there when I was young, on the big screen. I also saw Indiana Jones in that same theater. So those two.

And your favorite snack at the movie theater concession stand?

Oh, wow. For me, it’s a combination of ice cream and popcorn. So I get the popcorn and then I like to get a vanilla ice cream, or what they call a Choc Top in New Zealand. [The treat consists of soft serve ice cream dipped in a hard chocolate coating, served inside a waffle cone.] You can bite into it, then you just dip it into the popcorn. So you end up with popcorn sticking onto your ice cream and you can eat them both.

Source: Boxoffice

[ecargmura]

Pokemon Horizons Episode 10 Review: Avant-Garde!

This is the best episode of Pokemon Horizons by far! The writing choices were good. The mystery behind the Black Rayquaza is good. The way Nemona and Brassius are introduced and handled is good too.

How was Nemona handled? Great! She’s already showing off her love for battling by challenging kids to battles. Her enthusiasm is as consistent as it was in the game. What I liked was that her status as a Champion-Rank Trainer is still present. Liko is from Paldea so she knows the ins and outs of Paldean culture and society; she’s the one who realized who Nemona was and I liked that detail. Nemona got the respect she needed! Since the Rising Volt Tacklers already have all three Paldean starters, her partner Pokemon is Pawmo in the anime, which makes sense because she has one in the game, which fits canon. Her voice actress is Eri Kitamura, who has participated in the previous Pokemon anime as Roxie and is also Bea in Pokemon Masters and Twilight Wings. Her non-Pokemon roles include Sayaka Miki from Puella Magi Madoka Magica and Anri Terieri from Blue Lock. Her voice suits her so well! Great choice for casting!

How was Brassius handled? Amazing! The anime did well on portraying him as both an artist and a Gym Leader. Brassius as an artist was handled well. The anime did amazing on showing off the many sculptures he produced; the tea set is adorable and I want one. The writers also did well on portraying him as an passionate artist. As a writer, I understand the ups and downs of slumps. I’ve gotten them several times in the past too; creative blocks are the worst feeling ever because even if you want to get motivated, a force keeps holding you back. He was also integral in helping Roy learn a bit about the Black Rayquaza and in turn, Roy helped him out of his slump by complimenting his art.

Brassius as a Gym Leader was handled well! He was definitely a challenge for Roy who is still a novice Trainer and Terastal was shown in this episode, which I didn’t even expect it would! Props to the anime staff for the surprise reveal! The battle was EXCELLENT! The Gym Leader theme used and then the way the music syncs as Brassisus terastalizes his Sudowoodo was perfection. I could spazz over this segment for hours. Immaculate animation. Perfect synchronization. I do like how Fuecoco learned a new move, which is a step forward into Roy’s development. The fact that Roy lost to Brassius is a good choice. It would be improbable if Roy had won.

The way Nemona and Brassius were handled gives me hope for other Paldean Gym Leaders and trainers to show up. I can’t wait to see the day the other Gym Leaders show up and for the day the other important characters appear too. The casting for Brassius was handled well! He’s voiced by Kazuya Nakai who has also voiced a character in the previous Pokemon anime; he voiced Nando in the DP saga. I find this amusing because Nando has a Sunflora and Sunfloras are Brassius’s muse in a way.

The mystery of the black Rayquaza increases as Brassius revealed that he has seen it in the nearby forest. That’s the group’s only clue to finding it. I love the buildup and the suspense. It makes me anticipate what’s to come next episode.

I think the most interesting aspect about this episode is the fact that Roy and Liko are traveling around Artazon without adult supervision. Friede and the others take a step back as they are resting in the airship. I like that, honestly. It shows that they trust the kids well enough to not hover over them 24/7 and that their goal is something they have to achieve, so they can’t hold their hands all the time.

Overall, this episode was perfection in execution. The pacing was amazing as they managed to squeeze everything necessary into one episode without it feeling choppy or rushed. I also love so much of the game integration into the anime from Sunflora gathering to Brassius jumping off from the windmill. I hope that Horizons continues producing quality episodes like this. I can’t wait to see more!

[bb-editing]

ROXANA (Chapter 64)

*E/N: Using 3rd person narration instead of 1st person narration from now on. (The MTL's narration type fluctuates a lot 😭, but it's been using mostly 3PN of late).

Roxana's father will also be referred to as "Lanche / Lanche Agriche" instead of "Father."

–––

Roxana gazed out the window. As soon as the winter sun had set, a deep darkness cast itself over the sky. She was now in the office of the Agriche head, a space inhabited by Lanche prior to the events of yesterday. Perhaps that’s why it was still so heavily drenched in the scent of Lanche’s smoke.

Roxana moved her hand to pick up a glass of red liquor from the luxurious mahogany desk. The feeling of drinking in Lanche’s office was still new- and special- to her. She tilted the glass to her lips and said, “I never allowed you to enter.” Dion had stolen into the office and, unblinking, moved towards her. 

“What is it? I’m in a good mood today. Would you like a drink?” Dion refused; his gaze had been fixed on a single spot since entering the room. Roxana noticed this and laughed softly. “You know…” She placed the glass down, and a smile tugged at the corners of her lips. She hadn’t changed her clothes since returning to Agriche, so she was still wearing her reunion meeting garments.

However, the coat she was wearing… “It was given to me by Cassis.” It fit extremely loosely around her small frame, and when she adjusted the collar forward to prevent it from slipping off, she felt like her body had become half buried in it. “Isn’t it nice? I’m wearing it because I like it.”

Roxana smiled brightly as she looked at Dion. “Do you feel worse seeing me wear it?” He gave no reply.

“It’s strange when you look at me like that, I must admit. You seem to always get angry every time you see me.” Roxana whispered in a drowsy tone, reaching her hand out for a drink again. Dion was still studying her quietly. 

“I…” Then he opened his lips. “I don’t regret killing Achilles.”

Roxana’s hand, towering over the glass, stopped, and her smile disappeared. 

“Even if I went back in time, I’d still kill him again without hesitation.”

The look that remained on Roxana’s face was a dry one, and all her emotion seemed to have evaporated. “And if I did, I’d make sure to slit his throat in front of you.” His calm, monotonous voice resonated low in the office. “You were so agitated despite only seeing the illusion… What would happen if you saw the real Achilles die with your own eyes?” His words buzzed and weighed down the air. “I’ve always been curious about it.”

Roxana regarded him with unaffected eyes; the air in the office had become colder.

“But it’s useless to dwell on it- after all, he’s already dead. So next time, I guess I’ll just have to kill your mother in front of you instead. Because in a way, you already trust my mother to protect yours.” Roxana understood this well. She didn’t want to admit it, but it seemed like she and Dion were the Agriches who understood each other best. 

“That day, three years ago, you said you knew what I wanted,” Roxana began. “But it’s funny you say that, because I’m sure you never anticipated all of this to happen.” Even Roxana hadn’t imagined the opportunity to experience a moment like this- the day Lanche Agriche was driven out, the day she’d have a conversation like this with Dion.

Suddenly, there was a noise outside. It was probably Jeremy looking for her. 

Roxana gazed down slowly. “Maybe… maybe you and I are more alike than I thought.” She studied the red liquid in her glass. “I mean, until now, I thought there was no reason why I should’ve struggled so hard to survive.”

It was a strange night. 

Surely today was the most meaningful day she’d ever lived, and the night would be the longest. “But when I think about it now, I don’t think surviving was my goal. I think I was trying to survive because there was something more I wanted to do.”

The atmosphere had become calm and contemplative. “Do you know what I want?” Roxana asked in a quiet voice.

Dion’s eyes, tinted with quietness, stared at her. “I don’t know.”

A gloomy smile appeared on Roxana’s face. “I see… Neither do I. Even at this moment, I’m still confused.” Outside, pandemonium raged. “But I can give you what you want.”

In the dark, Dion said, “Can you really give me what I want?” She stared at him with knowing eyes, and he left the room silently. 

Roxana, alone once more, looked out the window again. Night, dark, and- a red butterfly approached, wandering through the thick glass.

“It’s time.” Her short celebrations were over. She got up and exited the door.

Darkness settled into the chilly, unoccupied room. Outside the window, white snow was fluttering down.

[renmemo18]

The heat was unbearable. Sweat was pouring down your face. And although the constant shots of fire came from every direction, and made it seem impossible to breathe, you still managed to get goosebumps from the wails of pain and horror coming from your comrades.

The situation escalated from bad to worse in a matter of minutes. The trainers anticipated SOME death eaters to target the dragons while the rest of Voldemort's army went to the school. However, they didn't anticipate the Giants and Snatchers joining in this pursuit. The Death Eaters hid in the shadows, and flew overhead, while the Giants stormed the gates, and the Snatchers looted whatever they could, whenever they could.

The dragons were furious. And although there were enchantments barricading them inside the compound, it was only a matter of time until the constant firing of spells broke them free. Their roars were deafening. The Horntail's tail struck the ground and it felt as though the earth would break open by the impact. The Ridgeback's screech would have shattered your eardrums if the blood and sweat covering them wasn't acting as a barrier. The Chinese Fireball was roaring simultaneously with the constant wave of fire shooting out of its nose and mouth.

You managed to whip around and hit a snatcher with a body-bind curse. You ran to a near by tree taking down a broom bound Death Eater with a stunning spell.

"AH!" You looked across the clearing and saw your friend and fellow trainer falling back from two Death Eaters. "Protego!" A transparent shield emerged from your wand as you dashed through the flames to reach him. You both took shelter behind a boulder. "We can't take them all!" He had blood seeping through his shirt on his left shoulder. "We have to try!" You bellowed. " Those of us left can hold them off for a little while longer! Get to the nursery, grab all the eggs you can and RUN! Don't look back!" You shook your head, ignoring his commands. "I can't do that! You know I can't!". He took you by the shoulders and shook you furiously " Charlie will never forgive me if I let you die here. There's no use, there's too many of them. Save the eggs and GO!"

At that moment, everything stopped. The noise silenced. The shots of wands ceased. The yelling and growling of the Giants were no more. You both looked at one another... "What just happened?" You shook your head and slowly peared from around the boulder, wands drawn. The grounds were deserted... Slowly, the trainers that were left or able to walk came into view. Their wands drawn as well. The confusion and bewilderment was palpable.

A loud POP sounded from across the clearing. It startled the Dragons into another fit of anger. It brought the trainers back to reality and those who could sprang into action. Casting new protection barriers, running to the nursery, helping the wounded, and those who were not as fortunate...

Suddenly Charlie ran into the clearing. You wanted to yell to him but your throat was swollen shut. You saw him frantically looking in all directions until... his eyes met yours. You ran to him, and him to you. Your bodies collided and you held him with all the strength you had. "Charlie..." your voice was so hoarse you weren't sure if he heard you. "Harry, he did it. He killed him. Voldemort is dead." You took a step back and gripped his arms. You didn't know what to say. You looked at him and all you could see was sadness. His eyes watering as he looked back at you. "Charlie... that's wonderful but... what's wrong? We should be happy...shouldn't we?..." he bowed his head and reached for you. You stepped back towards him and he held you more firmly than before if possible. "Charlie?... Charlie what's wrong? Has something happened?" And at that moment, words tumbled out of his mouth. You couldn't comprehend it all. This couldn't be happening. He recalled everything from the battle at Hogwarts. And listed those lost... Fred... you couldn't believe what you were hearing. Suddenly your goosebumps were back, and a ringing sounded in your ears. At that moment his words became muffled and his cries became sobs. And all you could do was hold him, and thank Merlin you were able to do so one more time.

[young-dumb-and-vaccinated]

The Sommelier (Hannigram x Female!Reader) pt. 26

Hannibal, Will and y/n host a dinner to put an end to everything

@dovahdokren @deadman-inc-bikeshop @lov3vivian @wisesandwichshark @scpdragon

Trigger warnings: PTSD, violence

"Hannibal, baby," You called down from the wine cellar. "Which one pairs best with the paella?"

"A Spanish white!" Will interjected.

You rolled your eyes, then looked at his shelf full of Spanish whites. "Thanks, Hannibal."

"You're the sommelier, [F/N]." Will shouted back. "Go with your gut!"

"Verdejo it is." You said to yourself, grabbing the high-shouldered bottle from the shelf.

You returned from the cellar and headed to the dining room, where Will was dutifully setting the table.

"Well aren't you the perfect little homemaker?" You commented, making sure he caught you eyeing his backside.

Will playfully snatched the wine from your hands. "We can't all be the breadwinners, can we, Ms. Restaurant Owner?"

You laughed, looking around at your triple-income house and accepting a kiss from your Will. You put your hands on his shoulders and broke the kiss.

"You know Hannibal isn't going to let you attend one of his famous dinner parties in a flannel, right?" You warned him, lips hovering a few inches from his face.

"Two guests is not a dinner party." Will corrected you. "I figured you'd know this after six months but, baby, Hannibal is always overdressed for everything."

"Better overdressed than the other way around, my treasure." Hannibal said, standing in the threshold. "Why don't you go slip in to that suit I bought you?"

Will threw his hands up. "Do you two just live to gang up on me? You know I can buy my own clothes, right?"

You scoffed. "Babe, you spent your last paycheck almost entirely at Bass Pro Shops-"

"And then we spent the day workshopping new seafood dishes for the restaurant with the fish I caught." Will shrugged. "You don’t get to benefit from it then complain."

You put up your hands in surrender. "Fair enough."

"So I don't make an ordeal out of this in front of guests," Hannibal said, reaching into his pocket. He pulled out two small drawstring bags and gave one to each of you. "Happy six months, my darlings."

"Six month anniversary presents?" Will laughed. "What are we, high school students?"

"Do you not want it?" Hannibal raised an eyebrow.

"I didn't say that." He mumbled.

You opened the bag and slid the contents into your hand. A beautiful solid white ring with ornate carvings tumbled out.

"It's beautiful." You smiled, sliding it on to your finger. "What is it?"

"A ring, my indulgence." Hannibal chuckled.

You narrowed your eyes at him. "Sure, but what is it made of?"

He hesitated for a moment. "Ivory."

"Should I be concerned that you somehow know both of our ring sizes?" Will asked, admiring how his fit perfectly on his finger. 

“I think you mean ‘thank you, Hannibal’.” You corrected him. “Even if it is a little uncanny.”

The doorbell rang. Hannibal threw a dish towel over his shoulder and pointed to Will.

"Go change." He ordered. "I will not have my guests seeing you in such an unsightly state."

"It's Jack and [F/N]'s friend." Will protested.

"Sure, I'll get the door." You said. "Gee, thanks [F/N], that would be so helpful!"

You opened the door with a smile.

"Agent Crawford!" You greeted, shaking his hand.

"Oh, please." He laughed. "Call me Jack."

"And this must be Bella." You said, offering his wife your hand. "Jack has told me all about you."

"So you're the infamous [F/N] [L/N]?" Bella accepted with a smile. "It's so nice to meet you."

Jack removed his hat and coat, then handed you a bag. "For you."

"You shouldn't have." You said, knowing immediately that it was wine. Then you pulled it out of the bag. Your eyes went wide and your jaw hung open.

"Holy shit you really shouldn't have." You repeated.

Jack shrugged and smiled smugly. "I pulled some strings in evidence. Figured you might want it."

You threw your arms around his neck, keeping a tight grip on the 1907 Heidsieck Monopole.

"Hey, do I get a hug?" Said another voice.

Charissa waved to you from the porch.

"Holy shit, hey!" You opened your arms. Charissa jumped into your embrace and squeezed you. She'd always hugged you tighter after seeing you half-alive in a hospital bed with your seldom-seen lovers at your bedside.

"Jack, this is my friend Charissa Rodriquez." You introduced. "She was the one who sent you the address."

"So you're 'tip', huh?" Jack's face lit up. "The FBI owes you a debt of gratitude, Ms. Rodriquez."

"Tip?" You said, looking at both Jack and Charissa.

"The address we received came from an obvious burner email." Jack explained. "We thought it was from Chase, so we arrived with a ton of backup anticipating an attack. Turns out we needed it."

Charissa shrugged. "I thought you could never be too careful."

"Well, intentional or not," Jack said. "You helped us a lot."

"You're Charissa Rodriquez?" Will said from the staircase. He wore a grey suit with a dark blue dress shirt that fit him scarily well considering he hadn't even tried it on.

"Enchanté, monsieur." Charissa said, eyeing him up with a hungry smile. "You must be Will."

"Down, girl." You crossed your arms. Your tone was playful, but had a slight threatening bite. "He's all mine."

"Not all yours." Hannibal corrected, entering the scene to finally greet his guests. "Agent Crawford, Bella, Ms. Rodriquez, welcome."

"Wow." Charissa said, dumbfounded. "I feel like I'm meeting a celebrity."

"Oh, surely the rumors unraveled after the old place went out of business." Hannibal answered. "There are far more interesting things to talk about than myself."

"Very few, but they do exist." Jack commented.

Charissa folded her arms. "Like the bartender who stood up to a psychotic cult leader and found two wonderful boyfriends to take care of her?"

"I've heard that one!" You added. "I hear she bought the restaurant for next to nothing after it became a stigmatized property."

Carissa narrowed her eyes at you. "I still cannot believe you told him."

You shrugged. "I think it all worked out."

Hannibal gathered everyone around the table and tasked you with pouring the wine.

"Surely you know why I've invited you here tonight." He asked, taking a seat at the head. "The high courts have ruled Chase's death a suicide."

"Cheers to that." Will said, raising his glass.

"Nobody actually believes it was a suicide." Jack clarified, trying not to look at you too obviously. "But the jury didn't want to dignify him with a proper homicide ruling."

Charissa glared at you, not trying to not be obvious. "Only one person at the table knows for sure."

You shook your head. "I hit my head really hard, the details are just not there."

"But [F/N]'s DNA was on the gun." Bella added.

"But not her fingerprints." Jack said. "It was saliva. We think he tried to choke her with his fingers before reaching for the gun."

"Did you ever find that finger?" Charissa said like it was nothing.

Jack, who was more interested in the paella than the conversation, shook his head. "Never."

Your eyes widened. You left the finger with the gun, you were sure of it.

"Must we discuss the gory details over dinner?" Will said, sensing your discomfort.

Charissa rested her chin in her hands. "Would you rather talk about your three-person couple?"

"I distinctly remember spitting the finger out." You insisted.

"We found so many pieces of bone in that room," Jack continued. "It's genuinely of far less concern than the dynamite lining the walls and bunker full of cocaine, stolen medical supplies and baby coffins."

"And the stained glass window made of human skin." You added.

"You know a case is fucked when a lost finger is of the least concern." Charissa commented.

"The important thing is that it's over." Will said. "He's dead and [F/N] is alive."

Bella smiled at you. "God really is looking out for you, [F/N]."

You forced a smile, telling yourself that Bella had the best intentions. But her good intentions revived Chase's voice in your head, which was a voice you'd spent the last six months trying to forget. You tightened your grip on your utensils to relieve some tension, but it didn’t work.

The table went quiet, waiting for Bella to realize her mistake. Will put his hand over yours and looked into your eyes. He mouthed the word 'breathe' and some similar affirmations.

Hannibal raised his head, knowing the light casting shadows on his face intimidated people. "Ms. Bella, we generally don't talk religion here."

She covered her mouth with her fingertips. "I'm so sorry, [F/N], I just meant-"

You put your hand up. "Please, just don't."

"The important thing is that [F/N] recovered forty missing women and reunited them with their families." Will said. "And there was no divine presence involved in that."

You smiled softly. "I'll drink to that."

"And you'll also be happy to know that the woman who assisted him in luring all those girls into the cult," Jack added. "She's looking at twenty-five to life without parole."

"What about the babies?" Bella piped up. "Weren't there, like, at least twelve newborns?"

"That's where the department of family and child services took over." Jack answered. "Whether the biological mothers kept them or put them up for adoption is out of our hands, but I do know each child was thoroughly examined and are all up to date on their shots."

"Seriously, though." Charissa interjected. "How do you misplace an entire finger?"

"It's one of the easier appendages to misplace." Hannibal answered, speaking with experience. "I heard it wasn't just the one that you couldn't find."

Jack looked up from his plate, confused. "Now how did you know about that?"

"The man took a 12 gauge bullet directly to the hand, Jack." Hannibal said with a small chuckle. "It's more likely you find no fingers than any at all."

"The bones will turn up somewhere." Jack said, resignedly. 

He just happened to say the word “bones” as you were glancing at your ring. 

You smiled a little too wide. “They just might.”  

[angeli-marco-writes]

Tom Felton - Baby on the Brain

A/N - First request! I hope this is what you wanted, I really like this idea. I don’t know Tom, nor do I claim to, and the other characters are fictional figments. To celebrate 100 followers, I'm uploading this early. Thank you!

Warnings - overloads of fluff, mentions of baby sick, mild language, slight angst, hints to a breeding kink whoops, lightly implied smut.

Summary - Visiting Tom’s brother and his new baby should be a walk in the park, really, but some unwitting truths come to ahead that you can’t refute. You’ve always wanted a family, but does Tom? (Request for Tom Felton: you guys meet his brother's new baby and then decide to have your own.)

Tom’s bruised knuckles rap thrice against the oak wood of his brother's front door, squeezing your smaller, trembling hand in his, running his fingers over the band of the ring in pride of place. Taking a deep breath in sync with yours, he turns his twinkling blue eyes towards you, lending you a twitch of a reassuring smile.

“Why are you so nervous? It’s only my brother,” he says, his voice gruff following the cigarette he smoked in the car.

“It’s the baby I wanna see,” you breathe, “less nervous, more jittery.”

“Maybe you should’ve gone for tea this morning instead of a double shot coffee.”

You nudge his ribs with your elbow, and then his overly sensitive hip bone with yours, coaxing a gentle chuckle from his lips, “Maybe I wouldn’t have needed it if you hadn’t kept me up so late.”

The devilish, shit-eating grin creeping onto his lips tells you that he feels no remorse, but then again, you’d take tiredness and a night like that over anything. His fingers twine tighter around yours as footsteps begin to shuffle behind the door, followed by an ear-piercing, blood-curdling screech, absolutely unholy.

“See he’s having fun with the kid, then?” you begin to whisper, but your words trail off as Tom’s very exhausted looking brother appears in the doorway, feeding bottle in hand, burping rag over his shoulder, deep purple bags beneath his eyes.

“Alright mate?” Tom greets, stepping one loafer-clad foot over the threshold, offering his brother a man hug.

“Tired, yeah. How you doing, man?” he responds warmly, patting Tom’s back.

“I’m good, I’m good, Jon.” Tom says, though you can feel him almost imperceptibly tense beside you.

Turning ever so slightly, all eyes are cast on you. Naturally, you offer Tom’s brother your warmest smile, teeth and all, sympathy welling both in your eyes and your heart. Kids must be tough if he looks like this with a three-week old.

“And who’s this?” Jonathan asks, sweetly, inquisitive more than anything, though he does look at you a bit peculiarly, scrutinising you, perhaps your outfit, the mom jeans you paired with a cropped cardigan perhaps not his style.

“This is my fiancée, Y/N.” Tom says, his words holding an inflection or pride perhaps, but whatever it is, it sends a pang of excitement shooting down your spine, a smirk creeping its way onto your lips, one you have to bite back, “I’m sorry I haven’t bought her over before, but you know what it’s like.”

“Yeah, course. Nice to meet you.”

“And you! Where’s the baby?”

Tom chuckles softly, and he curls his arm around your body, hip to hip. “She loves kids.”

Jonathan stands aside, a welcoming hand to beckon you into his home, the laminate floors covered in baby commodities, pastel blankets strewn everywhere, but other than, surprisingly clean considering Tom mentioned his brother was a hoarder and was always the most untidy of the bunch all throughout their youth. Considering how bad Tom is and how often you’re stuck cleaning away his dirty dishes and putting his laundry on, you were expecting far worse, but maybe Tom was the worst of them all along.

He tickles between your ribs as you wander through the halls, greeted in the back room by a tiny blonde headed baby, cradled in two arms of a just as exhausted looking lady donning a kind smile, stars dancing in her eyes as she stares down at her temporarily placated child. Tufts of blonde hair pair with enamoured hazel eyes to compliment the soft yellow of their clothes and the rosiness of their chubby cheeks. The hair, the nose, the tiny dimples; this baby looks just like Tom - and all his brothers - did when they were little dots themselves. The same little treasures. You, however, were an unattractive baby compared to this ball of sunshine.

“This is Ainsley.” Tom’s sister in law says lazily, her words falling off as she gapes in adoration at the gurgling blob of joy in her embrace. “And I’m Zara.”

“I’m Y/N.” you smile widely.

Should he not know better, Tom would quite possibly think you’re going to either collapse of hyperventilate, judging by the flush of your cheeks, your elevated pulse, heart beating out of your chest, the tiny, delightful, desperate whimpering noises from the back of your throat, elicited from a single glance into the babies eyes.

Said baby begins to make some indistinguishable noises and flails its arms around faintly, feebly, in your general direction. You’d be lying if your heart didn’t do a somersault in your chest.

“M- may I hold Ainsley?” you stammer out, extending your covered arms in a similar cradle to that of Ainsley’s mother.

“God, you’d be doing me a right favour,” she retorts, her accent broad, Geordie.

She shuffles softly down the pale green sofa, so perfectly complimenting the oak floors, to make a room for you that you take gratefully, and position yourself astutely against the back of the sofa. Before retrieving the baby, though, Tom grasps for a muslin cloth and affectionately drapes it over you, affectionate in the manner that he does it with such care, grazing his thumbs over your collarbones as he goes, ever so gently, barely even a touch, but enough to let you know he’s there. He holds your gaze for a moment, his lips twitching into a smile. This alone sends butterflies to your stomach and sets a sheen of fog about your head, taking you even more by surprise when the baby is laid in your arms, writhing and smiling and blinking so sweetly.

“Hiya darling,” you coo, “aren’t you just the most precious thing.”

“Gender neutral name and clothing...” Tom interjects, sidling up on the arm of the sofa beside you, “may I ask their sex and the pronouns you’re using?”

“Male, but we’re trying to be as gender neutral as possible so they can grow up not feeling pressured.”

You can’t wipe the beam from your face, or prevent the small ‘awwh!’ from escaping under your breath, curling the cloth slightly around the child, “That’s a wonderful attitude. Tommy, would you fetch my bag from the car, please?”

In a second, he’s bouncing up, his hand thrust deep in his chinos to fish for the car key. “You asked me to grab it before we got out as well, sorry sweetheart. Back in a minute.” With a nod to his brother, he’s racing out the door, his footsteps thundering through the house. Your attention, however, remains glued to the baby.

“Would you like me to set them down for tummy time afterwards, or is he going back to sleep?” You ponder aloud, eyes glued to the wry tufts of hair so soft and silky between your fingers.

“If he falls asleep in your arms, that’s fab. We’re just livin’ minute by minute.”

You release a small laugh, “Fair enough.”

Jon sits beside you tentatively, between yourself and his wife, his arm wrapping around her as she leans her body weight against him, her hair--held in a bun before, now just kind of flopping into her eyeline--tickling her shoulder and causing him to wince a little.

“How do you know so much about babies?”

The sigh you don’t mean to release is wistful at best, plain pining at worst--and probably most obvious. “I’ve always wanted them, kids, but Tommy’s the first guy I’ve settled down with, but despite being engaged, we’re still taking things slowly.”-- You shrug, as best as you can with the baby in hold, and cock your head to the side to peer down better at every tiny freckle on Ainsley’s skin.--“I love him to bits, but he wants to wait, and I’m still young, a good chunk younger than he is.”

“If it helps,” he starts, “I’ve never seen Tom as in love with someone as he is you. He’s besotted. You say the word, he’ll do it.”

“I know. I just don’t want to make him do anything unless he’s 100% sure.”

“And that’s what makes you his perfect girl.”

Your heart swells. There’s a beat, a pause of silence, filled only with the zapping of the car outside, no more than a couple of seconds before Jon’s wife speaks again.

“Enough of that. Show us the ring!”

If they’re all this excitable at something as simple as your engagement ring, perhaps you’ll fit in with his family better than you anticipated. ** Certainly, if their amiable gasps are anything to go by as you display your hand to them, your ring finger held out, supporting Ainsley’s head in the crook of your elbow as they gawk at the diamond glistening in the sunlight streaming in from their floor-to-ceiling patio doors. You have to admit it’s a pretty damn beautiful ring, the one you always dreamed of. An oval cut 0.5ct diamond held in place by a delicate split-shank 18ct gold band. It glows ethereally in whatever light there is, but most spectacularly in Tom’s eyes.

“It’s the most gorgeous ring,” she gushes, “apart from mine.”

A smile creeps its way in. You’re not entirely sure what the hell you’ve done right in your life to deserve this incredible, expensive ring, or even Tom for that reason. This is the life you’ve always dreamed of, the one that Tom’s brother has, and if you’re even half as happy as they are after being married for 5 years then you’ll consider your life to be a great success. You always wanted the quiet family life in the suburbs, with a lovely house and a nice garden and a couple of kids, working a part time job that pays well and allows you time for your children and your husband… then you fell in love with him. Loving Tom, though, that’s the true gift in your life, and you’d take him over that life any day. He’s the best, truly.

Speak of the devil and he shall arrive, since Tom comes puffing into the room, his heavy footsteps coming to a halt in the doorway as he hands over your abnormally large handbag.

“Here,” he gasps, but turns his gaze upon your hand, witnessing their marvelling at the rock he put there, “it is a pretty boss ring, isn’t it? Worth every penny.”

He bends down to ghost a kiss over your lips, his slightly long dark-blonde hair tickling your cheeks, smiling warmly down at you before deciding to sidle up next to you in the small gap between you and the arm of the sofa. However, half way down, his hip bones are digging in, and he winces up like he’s just been shocked. You know how sensitive his hip bones are, a fat you use against him incredibly often for all the best reasons, but today, he’s been so good, and you shan’t make him sit uncomfortably.

Keeping your hold on Ainsley--who’s almost asleep already, quieter than he was before with only faint gurgles escaping, their eyes droopy--steady, you begin to stand, and shuffle yourself up a bit, allowing Tom to take your previous seat, before placing yourself back down with as little ‘umph’ as you can manage, hooking your thigh over tom’s in the process. He knows what to do, it’s always been your calling card at home or at a party: as soon as you sling your leg over his, he pulls you into his lap eerie time, and today is no different. Well, perhaps it is, as he furrows his dark eyebrows inquisitively, gazing adoringly at you and the child in your arms, waiting for your nod okay before he hitches his arms around your waist and tugs you, as gently as he possibly can with his delicate grip, into his lap, giving you both ample space.

“Babe,” you whisper, “can you fetch the gift out of my bag?”

He’s instantly ferreting around until he finds the presents you neatly wrapped in polka dot paper, and hands them to Jonathan. Eagerly, they're unwrapped, and it seems that your many arguments over what to get Tom’s niece or nephew were worth it, considering the fact their eyes begin to brim with tears.

A soft grey elephant plush, holding a yellow heart, embellished with ‘Ainsley Felton, love Uncle Tom’, and a Peter Rabbit china crockery set for when they’re older.

“Thank you,” Zara exclaims, the way only a mother can, in gracious relief, “they’re adorable, so perfect.”

And before you know it, both you and Tom are being embraced wholeheartedly, as though you’re already their family. It’s been a life since anyone besides Tom hugged you, but this, this is nice.

“Well, lunch?”

Said lunch is a tumultuous affair, with a delivery pizza being ordered from the local dominoes, but with Ainsley so comfortable and calm in your arms, it was an elected decision not to move him, and instead, Tom fed you your pizza. It isn’t the first time, his love language seems to be feeding you things, but normally it's strawberries or chocolate truffles. Never before have you covered an entire medium pizza being fed to you while trying to avoid dropping any toppings or tomato sauce onto a peaceful baby, but that is just an indicator for the rest of the afternoon, Tom’s hands or eyes never once leaving you.

Completely accidentally, Jonathan and his wife drift off to sleep. You smile sadly at the sight, unable to blame them, they must be knackered, the problem simply lies in the fact that Ainsley begins to stir just as they drift off.

“See if there’s any milk in the fridge, please, I think they’re using formula.” you hiss to Tom, standing up cautiously.

Aghast, he grapples for words, “I-I’m sorry, what?!”

“Forget it,” you sigh, “take the baby and change him, please.”

“Change him?!” Again, that same tone of staggered surprise. “I don’t know how!”

“You have four nieces and nephews already, yes you do. He’s going to start screaming in a minute and wake your very tired, very groggy brother. Change the baby.”

When your eyes begin to thin, nostrils flaring, eyebrows raising, he knows not to mess with you, so he swallows thickly, his throat bobbing up and down, and scoops a crying Ainsley from your arms. As he treads upstairs, you find your way back into the kitchen, and find on the counter the bottles done with their sterilisation. This is okay, this is great, you know how to do this, and years of babysitting taught you exactly how to do this. It’s almost like that scene from Outnumbered, assembling the bottle with your eyes closed, muscle memory taking over from your brain. When your eyes flutter open, you almost let out a little squeal at your achievement. If only you could learn this all over again, have this life with a little child of your own, with Tom being as good a dad as he’s acting right now. When you handed him the baby, though, you couldn’t help but notice the fear that flashed over his face, paling him a shade, his pupils dilating to erase the blue. You wish he wasn’t so scared…

A few minutes later, with the kettle boiled and the formula made, you appear in the front room where Tom is swaddling Ainsley, holding the bean against his beating heart, making only the very slightest movements to entertain them.

“Give him a bit of tummy time while the milk cools, do you want to feed him?” you offer, stepping over the threshold .

“N-no,” he exhales slowly, “I think you’d best do that. Can I just put them down?”

“I’ll grab the mat from the corner”--you spied it as you walked in, a colourful crinkle mat rolled up and tucked away from view against the cream walls, behind the flat-screen on its grand stand--“and then yeah.”

Even as he puts Ainsley down, stomach first, onto the playmat, he looks petrified. Taking a seat on the floor to watch over them, you tug on Tom’s tan trouser leg. Indecisiveness gnaws at him, tugging him away from you, but he concedes to your widened puppy eyes, and tumbles onto the shag pile rug next to you, his arm wrapping around your shoulders like its second nature.

“You okay?” you whisper.

“Yeah, course. You?”

“Yeah.”

You let your head fall to his arm, a blissful smile creeping its way onto your lips when Ainsley looks you dead in the eye, hazel orbs twinkling, full of hope.

“I love you.”

“I know,” he hums, “I love you too.”

“Then why are you being so… prickly with me today?”

He shifts away from you the most miniscule amount, “I’m not.”

“We’ve been together for years, Tom. I know when you’re bloody lying.” you lower your voice for the final words, “now tell me why you’re being such a pouty puss.”

You mimic his frown, knowing full well that he hates it when you do so. He hates seeing you sad, even if it's just pretend, so makes a swooping move to kiss the frown away.

“Would you leave me if I said I didn’t want kids?” his voice breaks on the final word, little more than a whisper, but his next move is so animated that it almost startles you with the bottle in hand. “I mean, you know I want them. I love kids, I want us to have a family, but…”

“Nothing would ever make me leave you, Tom. You couldn’t do anything that’d cause me to fall out of love with you.”

The pain in your statement sends a shock through you, singing your heart, poisoning your mind, sending a sour bile running up your throat. No matter how many daggers shoot at your heart, it remains to be true. You’d do anything for him. If, tomorrow, he turned around and said he wanted the two of you to stay together but never marry and never have children, you wouldn’t back down without a fight, but you’d accept it. Despite all your lifelong hopes, nothing trumps Tom.

“I’m gonna feed Ainsley now.”

Picking the baby up from the rug, you put a bib around his neck, and throw another cloth around you, taking a seat in the corner chair to feed him.

“I’m going to the bathroom.” he says, and walks out, shoulders slumped.

You watch him wistfully as he leaves the room, and even when he returns--refusing to look at you--your gaze is still trained on his every move, slumping into the shag pile rug to watch the TV on a low volume. You can feel his eyes on you, that burning pair of eyes that follow you everywhere, your every movement, his ears honed, trained to your every shift and whisper. The second you turn upon him though, he’s looking away.

“I’ll put Ainsley down now,” you announce after burping him, “we need to leave soon if we want to make it home before dark.”

He doesn’t even bat an eye as you sashay past him, Ainsley’s cries muffled by a dummy, but the second he hears your footsteps heading back downstairs, his own begin to thunder, pounding against the stairs to meet you halfway.

“Wait,” he whispers, “come on, sit down, talk to me. I love you.”

A sigh heaves your chest, “I love you too. Talk about what?”

“You’re being arsey with me.”

“Because you said you don’t want kids!”

“Well I didn’t mean it, I’m just”--he pinches the bridge of his nose, and ushers you up on the stairs, your calves hitting the carpet--“there’s a lot to think about. We just met the kid, and I saw how your face lit up when you held him.”

“You know I want kids, Tom.”

“I know, but can we not talk about kids for a second? I want to talk about you. You’re my fiancée, I want to make you my wife. I’m just scared.”

“What of? You have nothing to be scared of. I’ll be here no matter what.”

“That’s why I’m scared!” he exasperates, flailing his arms about, “I don’t want you to senselessly follow me and love me if I can’t give you what you want. I’m scared of fucking this up, fucking you up. I’m scared of this going wrong, with children or marriage or saying something wrong, because I can’t lose you.”

“Tom,” you murmur.

Your hand flies up to cup his jaw, grazing your thumb over the stubble growing there, the faintest shadow.

“I love you. I- I need you. Y/N, sweetheart, please. I just wanna stay how we are, just stay this way for a bit, slow down because the world is moving too fast, and I’m gonna fall, but I can’t drag you down with me.” he croaks, cradling your neck with trembling, callused hands. “Can we stay how we are? Just us? Just you and me?”

“Babe you aren’t gonna lose me. Everything else off the table, we’ve got this, we’ve got us. We can stop the world and get off if that's what you want. Nothing is immediate, everything can wait.” you promise, your eyes boring into his.

All at once, his lips come crashing down onto yours, swallowing any inhibitions with his lavishing tongue, his hot breath slanting and fanning over your lips, leaving innocent adoration in their wake. Until a piercing scream resounds.

“Except maybe that.”

You duck from his grip skilfully, and slip into Ainsley’s room, two fingers reaching out to tickle their stomach, causing the scream to hiccup in their throat momentarily. Then, as if wondering what to do next, he just stares up at you imploringly, questioningly.

“Come on Ainsley, I just set you down to sleep. Be good and let mummy and daddy sleep too, okay?” you coo, tucking his blanket back up to his neck, slipping his cuddly toy closer, “go back to sleep.”

This child is already one with an attitude, you can tell that by the vehemence with which he yells out. You don’t even have to think twice before you’re stooping into the cot, swathing him in blankets, and lifting him to your bosom, where his screams fall to mere gurgles.

“Do you think he’s sleeping in the bed with them?” you ask Tom, keeping your voice at a steady whisper even with the slight bounces you’re offering the baby, “because I think that causes parental problems above all else because they’re being kicked in the back all night. Still, decreases the risk of SIDS. Why do they have a cot up if they are? He can’t sleep without contact…”

You don’t even realise you’re thinking aloud until Tom presses his thumbs into your shoulders, buckling your whole body. It’s the instant tension reliever, truly, and your shoulders do seem tighter today, perhaps from all the baby wrangling.

“Lets just sit, shall we?”

You do, taking up refuge in the front room once again, with an extra blanket of his, as well as a supply of cuddly toys, rattles, and dummies. Tom watches you with fascination for the rest of the afternoon, everything you do drawing his full attention; enticing, entrapping. His heart swells at the sight of you bouncing Ainsley around to make him laugh, cooing and giggling with him to coax a smile back after a wail that you hushed down, holding him so closely as he sleeps. He’s finally seeing it, after all these years, you, in your true home habitat, caring for a child, so kindly, so motherly, so naturally. Everything you do instantly seems to set the infant at ease. He knows it should be him, Ainsley is his nephew, but… you’re just better.

In fact, before he even realises it, he’s craving what he doesn’t have. Not that he can’t have it -- you’ve been together for a long time, you’ve discussed a future with children more times than he can count, and of course he wants it. Tom, he’s always wanted to be a dad, to read his kids books and sing them lullabies and show them what daddy did for work… but it's always been a pipe dream. Your wishes of a family have never come to fruition, and all because of his selfish fears.

The world can’t stop turning just because he’s getting cold feet and wants to climb off for a minute to catch his breath. That’s not how life works. If you want something, you’ve gotta grab it by the balls, because the opportunity will be gone before you know it. And with Tom? He won’t lose you because he won’t take a chance to make you happy and give you what you want. If anything, seeing the crestfallen look that settles between your brows when you actually have to give Ainsley back to their parents just further instils and confirms the idea in his head. There’s his future, in his mind's eye, as clear as day. This is what he needs to do, but better still, this is what he wants.

The drive back to your home is spent in relative silence, and a pensive one at that. You know like instinct that Tom is replaying your final conversation with Jonathan and his wife the same way you are. After all, the simple words did put a dampener on your reconciliation. Your hand is on the gearstick the whole way, though, your fingers entwined with his, the simple contact enough for you. You were right at lunch: all day it's been his hands or his eyes on you: you like it when it's both simultaneously, the way it was when you said your goodbyes.

Tom’s hands settled on your hips, his chin atop your head, and you just fell into his enveloping warmth, smiling lazily at the couple you rescued for the afternoon.

“Thanks so much, we owe you one.” Jonathan said, giving Tom another one of those manly hugs as you stand in the dusk-darkened wooden porch.

“Really,” Zara chimed in, her feet shuffling on the tiled floor as she held her husband's hand, “you’re welcome to have him any time. That is, of course, if you don’t have a little one of your own by the time you’ve recovered from that blighter.”

You forced a dry chuckle at her words, an awkward sound, but you seemed to recover well enough, “Well Ainsley’s been a pleasure, and I’m glad we could give you some respite. Take care.”

“And you. Drive safe.”

“We will,” Tom said, offering them a smile, flashing his keys, keeping his grip on you resolute, “thanks for having us.”

Their words still loom over you like a dark cloud. It was a throwaway comment, one they’d have thought nothing of, and most people, and even you on a good day, but you’d had that… spat earlier on that changed everything. Dredging it up would just put an even further dampener on your mood, though, and with a drive home in the semi-darkness already hanging over you like a massive impending storm cloud of fear, that’s definitely not ideal.

“Nice baby, Ainsley,” Tom mentions, turning his indicator on to pull off the dual carriageway.

“Yeah, and he’s cute.”

“Nice eyes.”

And a couple more comments like those are the only conversation you share as the journey goes by, but soon enough, you’re on the home stretch, and your street rolls into view. With your head comfortably rolled back against the headrest, your eyes shut from a tiring day of exertion and childminding , you don’t notice Tom stepping out the car and unravelling his grip from you. Only does it become apparent when he opens your door and unclips your seat belt, kissing your lips tenderly, the chapped skin arising you from whatever zoned out, thoughtful state you were in before.

“Come on, let's get you inside sweetheart.” he murmurs, taking your hands in his as he helps you out the car, His chivalry never fails to astound you--he even carries your bag.

“Thanks darlin’.”

You follow him inside, kicking off your shoes routinely, shrugging off your coat to hang on the peg with your name etched above it. What happens next, though, is what shocks you the most: this isn’t part of your normal ‘returning home’ routine, not if you’ve had a day as tiring as this one. You’re neither complaining nor disappointed, though. How can you be when Tom’s lips latch onto your pulse point and he has you writhing in seconds, only his arm around the small of your back there to support you.

In one fell swoop, he has you spun around and pinned to the wall, his figure with lust-blown eyes hovering above you, every line in his face so loving, even the subtle part of his lips. They only do that when he’s so desperate to kiss you he can barely breathe, when he’s so eager to confess his love again and again that all other words are inconsequential. This is your Tom.

“Let’s try for a baby.” he says, completely resolutely, no trace of hesitation anywhere in his perfectly, delectably gruff tone. “I want one, I want us, and I don’t wanna wait to build a family with you.”

You can feel tears begin to form in the corners of your shock-widened eyes. This… this is- What changed his mind? Just hours ago, he was hell bent against the idea, but now? His cheeks are glowing at the mere prospect. Courtesy and patience be damned, that is if you can get the words out with how choked up you are…

“Really? Y-you mean it?”

His faint smile widens into a full blown grin, one that confirms everything for you. This is it, this is the Tom you agreed to marry, the happy Tom, the smiley Tom, the one who can barely contain his excitement even as he nods, a stray lock of dark blonde hair falling into his eyes as he does so.

Reasonably, you can’t be expected to hold back, and when his hair gets long enough that it falls into his eyeline? That’s your main weakness, so who can blame you when you catapult yourself up onto him, your legs joining around his wait, your arms settling around his neck. He holds you right back, catches you like he was already waiting, and pins you against the wall again. Perhaps the serotonin is too much as you both grin into a searing kiss, the every press of his lips against yours holding more passion than you can fathom a cohesive thought about. He’s… incredible.

And besides, with this enthusiasm, his kiss alone leaving you gasping and clutching onto his hair for some kind of grounding, perhaps it’ll be the first time lucky…

[miraculouscontent]

Perfect 1 shot idea (i read though your previous posts and agree with everything~) Marinette doesn't go to NY hangs with Luka and Kagami. I bet being with them will give her the clarity she needs! Idk about you but if i need clarity about something i like to be away from whatever it is. Then I'm not distracted or conflicted and can figure out how i FEEL and just dissect everything.

Sitting on the sidewalk and resting against a wall, Luka panted, thoroughly out of breath. Marinette, meanwhile, returned from her brief trip to the store, a bottle of cold water in hand that she promptly handed to him. He glanced up at her, then let out a soft, “Thanks,” unscrewing the cap and downing roughly half the bottle in one go. She could only nod at the gratitude, sitting next to him to wait out his exhaustion.

Luka exhaled in relief at the cold liquid going down his throat, then cast a regretful gaze to his bike, which was parked nearby. Sighing, he murmured, “I...I’m sorry, Marinette. I--” He choked briefly on nothing. “--I couldn’t... catch up to the bus.”

“No, it’s okay!” Marinette assured. “You did your best! Um--”

She turned, pulling her luggage to her and digging inside. She pouted at the lack of content that fit the current situation, but ultimately settled on a portable fan that fit comfortably in her hand and was full on power.

Zipping her luggage back up, she slid closer to Luka, turning the fan on and directing it towards his face. He looked briefly surprised at the sudden cool air, then chuckled at the fan and offered her a grateful smile.

She smiled back, though her eyes drifted away to where the bus had previously been. She’d be lying if she said she wasn’t disappointed; after all, even regardless of Adrien, she’d very much wanted to go on the trip.

She dropped her gaze to her lap, her free hand gripping at the fabric of her capris. The memory of the bus getting away from her hurt, but not quite as much as the questions in her head.

Was this how it was always going to be? Her chasing after Adrien, friendship or otherwise, just to fail over and over again? Was it even worth it? She’d worked so hard to get Adrien on the bus just for none of her friends to work to get her onto it.

Well... none, except for one.

Marinette turned to Luka, who was eyeing her with concern. She smiled at him, briefly setting the fan aside so she could throw her arms around his waist and press herself against his chest..

“M-marinette?” he called, stiffening at the motion.

“Thanks, Luka,” she whispered. “Thanks for always looking out for me.”

He didn’t respond at first, but before she could worry that the hug was excessive, his hand came to rest on her back, returning the hug.

“You’re welcome, Marinette. You deserve it,” he whispered in return. His fingers briefly twitched against her back, followed by him asking, “What are you going to do about New York?”

She faked a scoff. “I don’t need New York! I can still have fun here, with you!” She paused, pushing off his chest as she realized, “Oh! And Kagami! It’s been forever since we’ve hung out! I should go call her!”

She was about to get up to retrieve her phone, but stopped as she glanced back at Luka, his breathing still noticeable. Her gaze wandered to her hands on his chest, after which she plopped back down, returning to their former hug.

“But... I’ll worry about it later, once you rest up,” she assured, “Your heart’s still beating fast from biking so hard.”

She heard a weak hum of acknowledgment from above her. “...Yeah.”

Had she looked up, she would’ve seen him blushing.

~~~~~

Marinette shifted uncomfortably at the entrance to the park, looking left and right in anticipation. “Do you think she’ll really show up?”

Luka placed a comforting hand on her shoulder. “Did she say she would?”

“Yeah, but she sounded... off? I don’t really know. She just didn’t seem that happy, which--I-I mean, she kind of already has this kind of monotone so I don’t think anyone can tell normally but--” She stopped herself, then nudged him. “Maybe you’re just rubbing off on me.”

He grinned. “I don’t think she has any reason to be mad at you, Marinette. Adrien wanted to go, didn’t he?”

“Yeah, but I’m sure she wanted Adrien to stay.” She slumped. “And it’s not like I can blame her or anything, since she would’ve been all alone if I’d made it to the bus. It was just, Adrien seemed so sad about his father, and--”

“No, you’re right,” a voice interrupted.

Marinette jerked her head up, gaping as she saw Kagami standing a small distance away. She looked around, noticing how unsurprised Luka seemed - had he stayed quiet on purpose? - then turned her attention back to Kagami. “U-um, what?”

Though her gaze was firm and serious as it always was, there was a sadness in her voice. “Adrien had no interest in staying with me. I couldn’t even get him to smile like he usually would.” Her head dropped to face the ground as she continued, “It’s for the best. Had he stayed behind, he likely would’ve kept thinking about how badly he wanted to go. I didn’t want that for him.”

Marinette fidgeted, unable to help feeling bad regardless of how right Kagami would’ve been. She glanced at Luka for a quick boost of reassurance, his eyes giving her an encouraging look.

She took a breath, steeling herself up, then turned her attention back to Kagami and walked towards her.

“Well... I’m glad you’re here,” she exclaimed, “because it means we can hang out!”

Kagami glanced up at her, a brow raising in confusion. Marinette could tell that things were awkward, but forged on nonetheless.

“We can have fun without Adrien! And then--” She paused to wrack her brain for possibilities, then spread her arms out. “... and then you can tell Adrien about everything we did! Yeah, and he’ll regret ever leaving you to go to New York!”

She wasn’t sure exactly how convincing she looked, but she knew it wasn’t much, not helped by the fact that she was surrounded by the two most observant people she knew. She could only stand there, looking as confident as possible while Kagami gave her the blankest stare imaginable.

Then, suddenly, Kagami brought a hand to her mouth, stifling a hint of what may’ve been a chuckle. She stood straight, tilting her head to the side in mild amusement. “Very well. We’ll try your idea.”

Marinette blinked, somewhere between excited and surprised. “R-really?”

Kagami nodded. She then cast her gaze over to Luka, who approached and offered her a polite nod as a greeting.

“I don’t think we’ve ever talked before,” Luka observed.

Kagami confirmed, “We haven’t.”

“It’s nice to meet you.”

She looked him up and down, then squinted slightly. “I don’t know you well enough to say that yet.”

He didn’t look at all offended by the comment, merely shrugging as if to say, “that’s fair.”

Marinette glanced back and forth between the two, then brightened. Grabbing one of Kagami’s hands and one of Luka’s, she stood proudly in the middle and exclaimed, “Okay! Who’s up for orange juice?” She peeked over at Luka specifically. “Luka, when me and Kagami became friends, we stopped at a place for orange juice and it was so good! Did I ever tell you?”

He shook his head, but smiled, and Kagami’s expression assured that the new topic was welcome.

With that, the conversation became casual, and Marinette led the two along the sidewalk to the place she was speaking of.

Maybe not going to New York would be a blessing in disguise after all.

[tokoyamisstuff]

Tender Ch. 1 - Loki x Mute! Reader

Summary: Even though Loki doesn’t understand why the new member of the Avengers should be kind to him of all people, he doesn’t want you to stop either.

Warnings: Loki being depressed, the Avengers being kinda mean, mentions of Torture and Death

Words: ~2100

[Story Masterlist] [All of my Works]

All eyes were on him again.

As soon as Loki would step inside, the previously lively room would fall completely silent. Well, it’s not like he wasn’t used to being the involuntary kill-joy...

Usually, the God of Mischief craved attention, may it be positive or negative - most of the time being the latter. But lately, after months of having all those distrustful and hostile glares piercing holes into him, he’d rather wish for the ground to swallow him whole.

“Umm, so...I gotta go.” Natasha was the first one to flee the unpleasant atmosphere, not even putting the energy into mutter anything else than a cheap excuse on her way out. Clint wordlessly followed her close after, but not without shooting the Odinson one last, spiteful look.

Loki on the other hand was picking on his hands, a nervous habit he had inherited from his mother. As much as he tried to avoid meeting their eyes, the tensioned aura they were emitting making him feel close to breaking down completely - but he would never give them the satisfaction to witness this, he swore to himself.

And yet: Maybe he should just leave. Disappear, forever.

Although he’d never admit, Loki had grown very tired of his life following this stirr path, unable to diverge into a new direction. Everything he did would ultimately bring death and destruction upon mankind, inflicting fear in the hearts of all people.

His whole existence was based on being condemned to fail - just for others to reach their ‘glorius purpose’.

“Great” Tony scoffed. “Now they’re gone. Well done, prince of nothing.” Steve cut his friend off, clearing his throat very exaggeratedly.

The god still hadn’t moved from the doorframe of the conference room, while all others were already sitting on the oval-shaped table. He didn’t got what all that fuss was about. If Steve didn’t insist him to attend this emergency meeting, he’d just have gone about his usual business and avoided everyone as good as he could.

“C’mon, brother” Thor sighed, well knowing that if his brother was to stay in the team, it would ultimatively drive a wedge between them. All that pressure in the air was straining for everyone, including himself. 

Tony on the other hand was pretty chill about everything, aside of being passive-aggressive. This was probably due to their similar coping styles.

Even though his near-death-experience back when he stopped the Chitauri was still eating on his mental health, he’d prefer glossing over it with stupid jokes and overly confident behaviour. “No sassy remark today, Reindeer Games?”

Stark was leaning back in his chair, arms crossed as he rose an eyebrow on the god, who only muttered a hoarse “No...not today.”

Yeah, it was kind of his style to break the unsettling silence through puny comments or self-glorifying speeches, to distract from his own insecurity.

But right now, he was just so damn tired.

Of this planet and it’s people, as well as the humiliating circumstances he had to dwell in. The fact that he was a prisoner at the Stark Tower, amongst his worst enemies. Being forced by his brother to keep up this meaningless act, as if he’d ever be seen as a team member or ally - when in reality, he was but a slave to the people he once ought to reign.

Just like back on Asgard: Never one of them, never belonging. No way to break free - for his true self was something to be loathed.

However, first and foremost the one thing he was especially tired of was himself, for he couldn’t get out of his own skin. Not only could he never be considered a hero, let alone be redeemed.

After all the atrocities he had commited due to Thanos’ torture and the tesseract’s influence,  now that he woke up from that naive dream of power stilling the emptiness in his dark heart, there was nothing left for him - other than to be haunted by his crimes until the mercy of death would overcome him.

“Well” Steve began, slamming his palms on the desk to attract everyone’s attention. “As you all know, we are welcoming a new team member today.”

“They all know?” Of course they wouldn’t let him in on such sensitive information. Not that he minded either way - one Avenger more or less, it didn’t matter how many people hated him in here.

“Please, come on in.”

Loki cleared the entrance when he heared Tony’s words, turning around in anticipation of another dull creature like the Hulk to torment him - but his calm demeanour dropped completely at this unusual sight:

“Y-You?!”

That was simply not possible! The last time he had seen you was almost a year ago, and you were on the brink of death at that!

“For everyone that doesn’t know yet: Her name is Y/N Y/L/N. She is one of the victims HYDRA experimented on, and they succeeded in forming an artificial mutant.”

Steve went on and on explaining about your powers, but Loki’s head had already turned on autopilot, the only thing he could concentrate on being how the hell you of all people ended up here.

All these months, he was desperately trying to get any information about you, all of his hints ultimately leading him to dead ends - and in the end, tragically believing in your imminent death.

The memories were still painfully vivid in his mind: It was his first mission together with the Avengers, at a HYDRA hideout with most likely no civil survivors.

Actually, he had planned to make his escape right when the others engaged in a fight, wandering the hallways of what resembled a torture chamber rather than a laboratory.

On the walls were several instructions, about a serum that might cause a human to mutate if they were exposed to unbearable stress - pain being the most effective method, apparently.

Yet instead of finding anything useful for his personal gain, he found you: A  beautiful woman, yet emaciated and lying in a puddle of her own blood. At first he thought you to be dead just like the others - but as soon as your faint whimpers drang to his ears, he burst the cell you were trapped in open, rushing to your side immediately.

“Shh...” the god scooped you up from the cold stone floor, wrapping his cloak around your broken body. “Everything is alright now. Your savior is here.”

Loki gasped as he felt your hand stroking his cheekbone, even through all your pain and weakness wanting to bid your hero this due respect.

“Hel...you humans are such fragile creatures...” Loki muttered under his breath, cursing his own lack of talent when it came to casting healing spells. “Hang in there, look at me!”

Your eyes were teary and bloodshot, yet not less fit to bring across a message no words ever could: Incredible gratitude, and admiration.

He could tell you were close to passing out when your hand left his face, falling limp to the side. But he held you firmly in his arms, not once stopping to utter sweet words of encouragement as he made his way to the ship, leading you into safety.

“Your world in the balance, and you bargain for one man?”

Those were the words he once directed at Black Widow - but only now he understood her attempts.

Saving one person could never make up for all the lives he had destroyed - and yet he knew that for you, it would mean the world none the less.

In one way or another, with your life at his mercy, he began to finally grasp the preciousness of life, and doing everything in one’s might to protect it.

“Reindeer Games” Tony tapped on his shoulders, making Loki wake from his pondering. “I’d appreciate if you didn’t scare her away on the first day already.”

Oh.

Just now he was noticing his own grim expression, having towered over your much smaller form this whole time with furrowed brows.

“My apologies” was his firm response, but you only shook your head, trying to tell him it was not a big deal.

So this was what you looked like when you’re not imprisoned, he realized when he took in your physique.

Much to his pleasure, all of your wounds had seemingly healed, and you finally gained some much needed weight. Like this, you looked so much more healthier - and most definetly even more bewitching than he remembered you.

If people had let him know, would he have visited your sickbed, aiding you towards health again? Who knows...

Yet somehow, he dwelled in the thought of you being able to lead a happy life now that you were free - which made your decision to seek out the Avengers in wish for more battles even harder for him to accept.

“You are incredibly strong, Lady Y/N” Loki spoke firmly, everyone else rolling their eyes at his usual exaggeration - but you knew he meant every word. “Be sure of my eternal respect.” 

The God of Lies’ eyes widened in excitement when you directed a warm smile at him, knowing for sure that this one was genuine. It wasn’t like those fake smirks the other Avengers gave him out of politeness, or the mocking laughs when they were making fun of or excluding him.

No - that one was just pure affection. And it left him in awe.

“Thank you for saving me back then” you signed, just for Loki shooting you a puzzled look.

“What, I thought the all-tongue knows every language?” Tony yelled, as inconsiderate as always. Thor was quick to explain on his brother’s stead, him still being deeply invested with you. “Every spoken one, yes. ASL is not one of our fortes.”

Usually, Loki had always been a quick thinker. But right now he was to bewildered by your appearance that thinking straight was out of the question.  

What language were they speaking of? And why have you not been saying anything up until now? Maybe his presence was making you uncomfortable, after all? Should he leave on your behalf?

To make it easier for him to understand, you rolled down your turtleneck, revealing the unsighty scar that covered your whole throat.

There were not many people bold enough to come close to the God of Mischief without warning, yet suddenly you simply took his hand and slowly led it to your neck.

How could you be so naive and offer someone like him such a vital spot?! He’ll never get the human philosophy...

And yet, the flabbergasted god hesistantly let his hand run over the scar, while you opened your mouth to no avail - for 11 months already, no tone would leave your vocal cords.

“I’m incredibly sorry...” Loki whispered with a sorrowful tone, while the others just stared in disbelief. “If only I was able to heal this wound back then...”

What a puny god he was...and an even more pathetic wanna-be-hero at that...

He would try to take a few steps back, but you took a hold of his hand, squeezing it with both of yours, that cheerful smile not faltering in the slightest.

“Please, don’t be sad. I’m only alive thanks to you!” Bucky, whose cousin was mute as well, translated what you were signing for Loki. His tone sounded quite irritated, not fitting those meaningful words. “I only wanted to join the Avengers because I want to be just like you. You’re my idol!”

Those words touched him deeply, igniting a flame inside of him he thought long to be defunct. Was it hope?

Of course it was not nearly enough to pull him out of that deep, dark hole he felt trapped in for as long as he could remember - yet somehow, he now felt that it was not impossible to escape.

While the others were cringing at your declaration, making jokes about ‘choosing wrong idols’ or would plainly not believe Loki to have a positive effect on anyone, the two of you would just stare at each other in silent admiration.

Shyly, you signed yet another word for him - and this time, Loki would know what you mean from pure intuition. 

He smiled.

For the first time in what felt like forever, Loki was able to smile again, just thanks to your heartwarming welcome. And he was still blissfully unaware about what effect you could have on him, if he was brave enough to let you close.

One thing was sure: You literally had him wrapped around his finger from the very start.

[holdmecloser-gandydancer]

44. “I’m not afraid.” w magnus :O?

Magnus sat in the stuffy waiting room, bouncing his leg restlessly, trying to free some nervous energy. It didn’t seem to be working. He tapped at arms of the chair he was sitting in. It felt like he’d been waiting for hours, thought the very patient tiefling receptionist assured him it had only been about ten minutes. He was just ready to get the interview done and over with.

Honestly, Magnus was surprised when the letter came a few weeks ago, inviting him for an interview. He’d worked as a general security officer for a while when mention of a new, exciting position was made at a meeting for all already involved at the Institute. Something enticing about journeying beyond our planes. Magnus was interested but uncertain if he really fit the bill for the two month mission. His moms had encouraged him to apply for one of the spots.

“The worst they could say is no, baby,” Ma Amada had said one night when they were all in the kitchen, prepping dinner.

“And if they do, then they’re fools,” Ma Arabella said, giving Magnus a cheeky wink and tasking him with setting the table.

So Magnus applied. He skimmed over where the listing said “Knowledge of Casting highly encouraged.” Surely enough other casters would apply, right? Besides, he thought to himself, it couldn’t hurt to try.

That’s precisely how he found himself on the top floor of the Institute, in itchy pants Ma Arabella insisted made him look handsome and professional, ready to start crawling up the walls just to do something.

“Burnsides?”

Magnus’s head whipped around. He was so caught up in thought that he didn’t even hear the door open. He stood up gave an awkward wave.

“Present!”

The gnomish man sent him a bemused look before waving him through the door. Magnus followed behind him and sat in one of the vacant chairs in front of the large oak desk.

“Do you want anything to drink? I have water but I could also procure some tea if that’s more your style.”

Magnus shook his head. “Just water is fine, sir.”

The other man let out a the barest huff of a laugh. “Son, please, you don’t have to call me sir. Davenport is fine.”

“Understood,” Magnus said, reaching for the cup of water Davenport handed him. He took a long sip, trying and failing to avoid spilling some on his nice green shirt. Silently, he cursed his stupid professional clothes. They were the best choice for the interview, he knew that, but they made him feel like some kind of caged animal.

He watched Davenport carefully as he inspected a small stack of papers in a folder. Magnus noticed his mustache twitch a few times; Davenport seemed to be amused by something in what he assumed was his file. He hoped that was a good sign.

“Forgive me, I’ve been at this all day so my brain is a little fried. So, you’re Magnus Burnsides. Human. Currently working as one of the Institute’s security officers, yes?” Davenport asked, finally looking back at Magnus.

Magnus nodded. “That’s right! I’ve been in that job for almost a year.”

“And you have no casting experience?”

“Nope.”

Davenport frowned. “You do know that the listing did say that we preferred casters, right?”

“I do. I also know that I’m still in this interview so there must be something you like about me,” Magnus said, not fully processing his own words as they flew out of his mouth. Rein it in a little, he thought to himself.

Davenport laughed a little. Good to know he seemed to have some sense of humor.

“You do have a point. Yeah, I gotta say, you intrigued me as an applicant. I have a ton of questions I have prepared but honestly? I’d prefer a more casual interview if that’s alright with you.”

“Oh man, I’d love that.” Magnus took another sip of water. He pulled at the collar of his shirt; it was a touch too tight and itched.

“So, tell me why you want to join the Institute’s Planar Exploration mission.”

“Well, I gotta be honest. It just sounds really fuc –“ Magnus caught himself. Not that casual of an interview, he thought. “Um. It sounds really cool. I’ve spent a lot of time looking up at the sky and the stars and stuff and the thought of actually getting to go up there? I mean, you’re the captain of this mission, right?”

Davenport nodded.

“Well, then you get it. There’s this idea that our lives could be meant for something bigger than us. I dig that.”

Magnus watched as Davenport wrote something down in his notes. He was writing for a while, actually. Magnus felt that nervous energy come back.

“I like your answer. Now, I do need you to be honest with me on this next question. What skills do you think that you can bring to this scientific expedition? Because while it’s true that what we’re doing is cool, this is still a research mission at the end of the day.”

“Okay, hear me out. I’ve thought about this a lot. I know you’re all going to be mostly casters and scientists and that’s cool. But uh, aren’t you worried that most of you are going to be pretty squishy?”

Davenport furrowed his brow. “Squishy? What do you mean?”

“Well, think about it. You don’t have any idea of what you might find out there. Could be something awesome, that’s what we’re hoping for. But it could be something that wants to attack, right? If everyone on the ship is busy with science, there’s gonna be no one who can protect the group.” Magnus crossed his arms and shrugged his shoulders a bit. “I can be the one to do that.”

“Magnus, you do understand that we have one of the most talented evocation specialists coming on this mission, right? I believe she has us covered when it comes to defensive magic.”

“Sure, but I don’t need any spell slots to do what I do.”

Davenport blinked and nodded before pausing to write some things down.

“Okay. Okay. Fair point. Now, remind me, son, you’re 20?”

Magnus nodded. “Yup! Birthday was two months ago.”

“Right. Alright. Well, I have one last question for you. Obviously we don’t anticipate anything going wrong but we have to always plan for the worst-case scenario. You have the rest of your life ahead of you. Are you prepared to potentially…throw that away? I’m not trying to scare you but with a mission like this, we can never be certain of what we might face.”

For the first time the entire interview, Magnus sat and thought for a moment. He shook his head. “That’s a mighty big question. But I’m not afraid, sir. You’re right, I do have the rest of my life ahead of me. This would be one hell of a start to it, don’t you think?”

Davenport smiled and nodded. He set his pen down and stood up. “Well, this was a very illuminating interview. Thank you. I’ll be in touch very soon.”

“Wait! Can I ask you one question before we wrap this up?”

“Oh, of course. What is it?”

Magnus grinned. “Can I call you Cap’n’port?”

A rich belly-laugh fluttered out of Davenport’s mouth. “Knock yourself out, son.”

[perriewinklenerdie]

Job interview (Ethan Ramsey x MC)

Pairing: Ethan Ramsey x Claire Herondale

Word count: 1,5 k

Summary: Landry Olsen goes to speak to the Head of the Diagnostic Team in hopes of working in Ethan Ramsey's team.

Warnings: None

A/N: Just Landry being Landry. And my two idiots being in love - this time with actual words being said. Also, Ethan being protective and proud - you know, like a husband.

Landry Olsen walked the halls of Bloom Edenbrook with his head held high. After two years of being gone, he felt a familiar feeling of pride at the sight of rooms and staff, no matter how many changes have taken place.

The news of a job opening in the Diagnostic Team flooded the medical community, reaching the doctors of Solomon Kenmore. In particular, Landry Olsen. It was like his dream came true once more, like he got a second chance at this.

Since his residency ended, he knew for sure that Claire’s residency was over too. For an opening in the team to happen now? It couldn’t have been a coincidence – she must have packed her bags and left, leaving a space for him to fill. Leaving him a chance to finally work by Ethan Ramsey’s side and prove to him that he was a better doctor between him and his former friend.

That’s what brought him to Edenbrook. He didn’t think to check, so blinded with his pride that he strutted to the nurse’s station, asked where the new DT office was and, as soon as he got the confirmation that the head of the team was in, walked towards the place that would grant him a new start for his career.

He straightened his shirt, shaking in anticipation to see his medical hero, sitting behind the desk, waiting for him to give him his resume – waiting for Landry to join the team, like he should have done two years ago.

A screeching sound of an alarm blared in his ears when he stepped through the door and casted his gaze onto the figure sitting behind the desk. They were hunched over a chart, drumming the pencil against the smooth surface under their palm. Their coat was draped over the back of the chair they were sitting on, completely in their element – like they owned the place.

At the sound of the steps, they spoke up. “Ethan, babe, you’re early, you said you’d be here in ten minutes- “ Claire lifted her gaze from the lines of patient information and moved it towards the person standing two meters from her. “Oh.”

They stared at each other in silence, neither sure what to do. Landry’s brain didn’t register the term of endearment she used in regards to Ethan Ramsey, too shocked by seeing her in the room to notice the additional information.

“I didn’t expect to see you here.” He managed to spit out, shaking himself off mentally. She raised an eyebrow.

“Who did you expect to see? You knew I was in the team, Landry.”

“I heard about an opening in the team, and since our residencies are over, I figured that… you’d leave.” He explained, shrugging as though his line of thought was the sanest thing in the world. Claire nodded slowly, sending him a strange look.

“I see. And, well, as you can see, that’s not the case. As a matter of fact-“

“That’s the last time I let you choose our lunch option, Claire. The traffic could not have been worse.” Ethan’s voice interrupted her as he walked into the room. At the sight of a faintly familiar face, he stopped in his tracks. Only for a moment, though, because he resumed his stride pretty much immediately, joining Claire behind her desk, their food in hand. He put the boxes down, then kissed her forehead warmly.

“That’s bullshit and you know it. Besides, why couldn’t you just order? They would have delivered it, no problem.” She grinned, leaning back in her seat.

“No problem, huh? I’ll remind you of how much it’s not a problem the next time you want those cookies that they do not deliver.” He nodded towards the smaller bag on the side. She gasped, touching her chest theatrically.

“Oh my god, I love you.”

“As I love you.” Ethan replied without missing a beat, his eyes softening as he smiled at his girlfriend.

At that moment, Landry Olsen cleared his throat. The couple looked at him at once, as though they only now remembered that they had company – neither embarrassed by the situation, though.

“Right.” Claire cleared her throat, turning in her seat to face him again. “As I was saying, I didn’t leave.”

“If you didn’t leave, then who did?” Landry asked, confused beyond measure. The next words wrecked his world and he felt ground slipping from under his perfect little vision of his future.

“I did.” Ethan spoke up, leaning against the desk. He nudged Claire’s arm with his knee, winking at her, both smiling.

“So… who’s the team leader now?” He stuttered, not for the first time in the past ten minutes, unable to understand what was happening.

“I am.” Claire raised her chin confidently, her posture straightening. “So, if you still want to discuss the opening in the team with its leader, that would be me.”

Olsen looked between the couple, the reality of their relationship suddenly catching up to him. The kiss, the love confession, their closeness – all like a slap to the face, all confirming what he already knew years ago.

“I… you two- but I- “

“I don’t think he’s a good fit, if I’m being honest.” Ethan shared his opinion, turning towards her. “You’re the boss here, so the decision is yours, but he doesn’t look like he’d be able to get much done. Well.” He gave the younger doctor a dirty look, well aware of what he’s done in the past. “Maybe except for sabotaging his coworkers.”

Landry paled. He wanted to run but his body froze, and he couldn’t move a finger. Memories of the conversation he had with Claire when she realized what he’s been doing came back to him immediately. He still stood by his point – a resident leading a team? In what universe would that be happening? He opened his mouth to say something, but no sound came out.

Ethan smirked at the sight, shaking his head at the younger man. He turned towards Claire and dropped his voice to a mutter. “I’ll wait for you in my office.” With a kiss to her cheek, he gathered their food and moved towards the door.

“You gave her the team because you’re sleeping with her?” Landry finally spit out, his voice pitchy and cracked. Ethan stopped immediately, turning around to reveal the stone-cold look on his face.

“I invite you to say it again and make an even bigger idiot out of yourself.” If looks could kill, Landry Olsen would be a pile of ash from how fiery Ethan Ramsey’s gaze was. “Go on, say that again.” When no other words were said, he scoffed. “That’s what I thought. You have nothing going for yourself, so you resort to bringing others down to hide your own incompetence. Truly touching. Now do us both a favor and go back to the place you came from so I can enjoy my lunch break with my girlfriend in peace.”

He glanced at Claire, his expression melting into a tender smile. “Come to my office once you’re done here.” She nodded, a barely visible gesture. He turned around, leaving the room without sparing Landry another look.

She stared at her former friend for a long minute, waiting for him to say something. When he didn’t, she sighed, deciding to take the high road. “Would you like some water?”

Landry shook his head, taking a step back. He apologized after what felt like forever, then bid her goodbye and began to leave the office. He ran into Tobias and Harper, dropping his gaze to the ground when he passed them by to avoid embarrassing himself any further. The last thing he heard before he got too far away was Tobias’s taunting voice.

“Aw, man, Ramsey said it would get good. We always miss the fun, Harps.” He nudged Harper with his elbow, both of them laughing. Claire joined in, standing up and reaching for her sweater.

“We come here to spend out lunch break with the boss and the boss is leaving?” Harper teased her playfully, knowing damn well where Claire was going. The blonde shrugged innocently.

“Sorry, guys, my boyfriend just destroyed the guy that sabotaged me two years ago. He earned some kisses at the very least.” She walked backwards, grinning. “Not to mention that he has my food. See you in a bit!”

Harper giggled at their dynamic, her shoulders shaking as Tobias reached for a piece of paper, formed the ball and then threw it at Claire. “Lock the door when you get there!”

Notes

Claire: “Would you like some water?”

Perrie: “For your newly obtained burns?”

I’ve wanted to write some Landry-being-roasted fic again for a while now, and this just jumped at me today. A splitsecond decision was made and here we are.

Long story short, I have absolutely no time to write, but I write anyway. I’m probably gonna die because of this, so it’s been fun guys <3

Jk, but not really. I’m probably going to be gone for a while because of my finals. I’ll be back as soon as possible, and in the meantime, I’m going to be here, reading and praising our Queens for giving us the content we need after OH ended.

Thank you so much for being here with me for the entirety of the OH journey, having you here means more than I can express.

See you on the other side of the war. Literally.

Love you guys so much, thank you for reading <3

Tagging separately

[drwcn]

《 Without Envy 》 storyboard 10 - concubine/sleeper agent!wwx & prince!lwj

Other snippets and storyboards can be found on [Master List]

Exactly 851 days - 2 years, 4 months and 11 days - after Wei Wuxian arrived at Gusu and began his mission as a sleeper agent, he was activated.

That chilly morning, he walked into the pastry shop - a front maintained by a decade-long Wen spy - a walk he'd done hundred of times on hundreds of mornings since he arrived. He breezed past the packaging counter, skipped through the faded cotton drapes, and rounded behind the back staircase to the room where Xue Yang always waited for him. Only this time, it was not just his candy-obsessed, murder-happy shidi, but a face he hadn't seen in many, many months. "...Shifu?" Wen Zhuliu's visit meant the end of his carefree days. It's time. That night, Wei Wuxian did not look at either Lan Wangji or Jiang Yanli when he bid "dianxia" and "Jiang-zhuzi" good night. He pretended to retire to bed early, after washing himself of his servant's exterior and donning his robes of night-black. He laid in the dark, waiting for time to pass, and reminded himself of his true purpose. He was never meant to care about these people; love these people. Jiang Yanli was not his doting foster sister; Lan Wangji was not his beloved wangye. I am Wei Wuxian of the great Qishan Wen. Nevernight is my home. I am a spy. Gusu is my enemy. Wei Wuxian kept his eyes closed, his breathing even, and his heartbeat slow. In the lonely quiet, he waited, and waited, and waited. Until the candlelight around the princely manor dimmed to nothing, until the night grew still and the moon shone bright and high in the dark, dark sky. Reaching under the floorboard beneath his bed, Wei Wuxian retrieved his life-long companion from its hiding place and released it from its sheath. "Hello, old friend." He whispered, stroking the blade edge. Suibian's steel glistened with cold malevolence in the stark, pale moonlight.

It would be another year before WWX's identity is discovered. During that time, he lived a double life. In the day, he was Lan Wangji's precious Wei Ying, and at night, he was the blade in Wen Ruohan's hand, stealing, killing and destroying on command. His assignments were not always murder; sometimes it required him to break into secure facilities and obtain copies of certain documents. He was never alone on these jobs; there was always someone convalescing with him from within. Slowly, he began to realize just how deep Wen Ruohan's spy network had infiltrated Gusu's foundation. In a way, it excited him, to know that the posturing and pretending would soon be over, that in the near future a quick war would sweep across the land and unite the two nations. In another way, it frightened him to the bones.

Wei Wuxian killed 37 individuals within the span of a year, 37 men and women of different ranks, status and stations. He did not always know why these people needed to die; in fact, he often didn't and preferred it that way. If he didn't know the motive, then he couldn't argue against the reason, and thus could go on believing that what Wen Ruohan did was ultimately for the betterment of everyone. The men of Gusu were weak - Wei Wuxian was always told - they were not fit to rule. The people of Gusu would be better served under a united empire. He repeated this statement to himself before every job, but over time, the mantra on his tongue began to lose its flavour.

In the meantime however, Lan Wangji and Jiang Yanli quickly formed a strong plan on how they wanted to live out the rest of their lives. Lan Wangji never quite enjoyed laying with women, but Jiang Yanli had just enough wickedness behind her demure exterior that things were... well, interesting. In any case, it was not long before she came to him all smiles and whispered the good news over luncheon .

"Truly?" Lan Wangji set down his chopsticks. "Hm uhm." Jiang Yanli dapped her mouth delicately. "Now, perhaps it's a good time to discuss how dianxia should go about winning A-Xian's affection. He's under the impression you've cast him aside on taishi's orders and has been giving him the cold shoulder." "I wasn't." Lan Wangji defended himself, distressed and slightly offended. "It's just, huangshu's been watching me like a hawk. I was afraid any further attempt to be closer to him would give my uncle reason to remove him from my household entirely." Jiang Yanli was sympathetic. "The summer hunt is in two week's time, and afterwards, since bixia always likes to finish the night on the river with fireworks, perhaps...." She let the sentence dangle, a knowing smile playing at her lips. Lan Wangji felt hope.

Unfortunately, a little hiccup happened before the hunt could take place. Jin Ziyan falsely believed that Wei Wuxian had fallen out of favour with Lan Wangji and was itching to show him his place. Poor Mo Xuanyu was caught in the middle. Jin Ziyan knew Wei Wuxian was an audacious one, but not so stupid that he could be easily goaded into committing a grave offence. Thus, Jin Ziyan planned to cause an incident in the garden whereby poor Mo Xuanyu would unwittingly "offend" him, and he would publicly announce a punishment that was harsher than necessary. He made sure that Jiang Yanli and Wei Wuxian were near by, as they usually took a mid-afternoon stroll after lunch. True to his predictions, Wei Wuxian could not stop himself for interfering on Mo Xuanyu's behalf. Then in their altercation, Jin Ziyan would fall into the pond, making it seem as though Wei Wuxian was the one who shoved him out of anger. Oh but a lowly servant shoving Hanguang-wang's deputy consort into the pond??! He was as good as dead. What's more, everything happened on the same afternoon that Lan Qiren was scheduled to visit Lan Wangji to discuss matters of court. If it was only Lan Wangji, Jin Ziyan knew Wei Wuxian would suffer little consequence, but taishi tolerated no insubordination or churlish behaviour of any kind.

Lan Qiren was incensed, livid, but he was not hasty to deal the punishment. Instead he turned to his nephew and asked, whilst fully knowing the answer, "Wangji, your household follows the regulations that govern all princely manors, does it not?" "It does, huangshu." "Then tell me what is the punishment reserved for a servant for daring to lay hands on a deputy consort and to cause physical harm to said consort?" "It....I - huangshu -" "What is the rule?" Lan Wangji knew very well that the punishment was death for any servant, maid or eunuch who dared to harm any member of the harem. But Wei Ying, his Wei Ying... "Wei Ying is very precious to Yanli and to Yunmeng-hou. As well..." Lan Wangji hesitated. "Yanli is with child again. It is still very early so we thought it best not to announce it lest we have a repeat of last time. It would not do to upset her at this time." Lan Qiren was extremely dissatisfied with his answer, but conceded for Jiang Yanli's sake. "I'm glad, Wangji, that you've found your way back to your proper companions. This Wei Wuxian clearly has been spoiled to the point of impropriety. His actions today are utterly unacceptable and cannot be allowed to go unpunished or else others would surely follow his example. Guards!" "Detain Wei Wuxian. Have him strung up on a post in the servants' courtyard and give him fifty lashes. No food nor drink. Sun or rain, he is not to be let down until dusk tomorrow." "Huangshu!" Lan Wangji's head buzzed, as though someone had struck him squarely in the temple. His chest felt tight, and his heart ached where it rebelled inside him. "Please -" "He has his life. That is mercy enough."

Wei Wuxian was stripped down to his trousers only and tied up to a post, his hands bound together above him and his bare feet never finding purchase on the ground no matter how he struggled. This fucking suck ass. Jin Ziyan you're a dead man. When all fifty lashes were dealt, even the guards were sweating through their robes. They left him dangling there in the blistering summer heat. A young maid dared to try and sneak him some water but was thwarted by an older momo. "What do you think you're doing, lassie? Did you not hear taishi, no food or drink until dusk tomorrow. Do you want lashes too? Go on! Go!" It rained hard all through the night, only easing up at dawn, but the aftermath of the storm left the air muggy and humid. Combined with the heat, it felt as though he was being steamed alive like a wheat bun. At some point during the second day, Wei Wuxian finally lost consciousness. He was not aware when Lan Wangji barged into the courtyard against Lan Qiren's explicit orders and cut him free.

Really tho, i just want this scene to happen (╹ڡ╹ ) "I'm sorry." Wei Wuxian blinked at Lan Wangji's hunched figure sitting at his bedside. "Whatever for? You saved me, dianxia." Lan Wangji, "But it was my attention that put you in such a position in the first place. Huangshu was looking for a reason to punish you since that day he saw us in my study." Wei Wuxian, "dianxia..." "I find you... lovely, Wei Ying," confessed Lan Wangji with a heavy sigh. His ears burned red not only with the embarrassment of a youth in love but with shame. "I wish for your company, even when you have no desire to be part of my harem. Now I know my mistake. I should have respected the boundaries. I should've known my attention on you would incite jealousy from the others, and as a servant, you have no means of protecting yourself. This is entirely my fault." Wei Wuxian's heart fluttered despite himself. He quickly shook his head. "No dianxia, please don't blame yourself -" Lan Wangji, "perhaps I should send you back to Jiang-fu; I'm sure Jiang-xiao-gongzi would be delighted to have your company back. You would be safe there." Jiang Wanyin had come to visit his sister the very next day after Wei Wuxian was sentenced to whipping. He was one of the most accomplishment young men of his generation, anticipated to be a great general. Nie Mingjue had thought highly of him and had expected great things from this youth. Though perhaps what the late feng-jun found truly commendable was Jiang Wanyin's complete lack of pretense and his short-fuse temper. That is to say, he did not hesitate to get in Lan Wangji's face. His sister would have chastised him, had she not been so preoccupied by her tears. Wei Wuxian, "Jiang...Jiang Cheng was here?" "He was, and he was very upset about your condition. He left many fine medicine and ointments for you." Lan Wangji sighed again. "I shall speak with Yanli. If she is amenable, then I shall make arrangements for you to go back to Jiang-fu. You would not have to put up with me any longer." Lan Wangji stood up. Wei Wuxian grasped his sleeve immediately. In that moment, he could not tell if his panic was derived from his worry that he would not be able to complete his assignment if Lan Wangji were to send him away or if he simply did not wish to part with the prince. "Dianxia - I - I don't want to leave. I - it's true I had once rejected you, but...would you think less of me if I said your attention … hasn't been unwanted for a while, that I have come to enjoy them." At Lan Wangji's widened eyes, Wei Wuxian continued quickly. "You need not give me anything, no elevation, no rank. I don't care about any of that. I am a man, I have no ability to give you children. Nor do I have any family who would benefit from your continued favour of me. I am an orphan, dianxia, I have no place to go. I just....don't send me away. Please let me stay! I'm not afraid of Jin Ziyan, or taishi, or anything!" Lan Wangji sat back down. His hand trembled when he laid it on top of Wei Wuxian's. "Wei Ying...?" Wei Wuxian smiled, still radiant despite his pale complexion. "Dianxia -" "Lan Zhan. No more dianxia, I only want to hear you call me by my name." Wei Wuxian flushed pink. The blush was real, as was the pleased little smile he tried to hide. "Lan Zhan, Wei Ying is yours, if you still want him." The worst part of that was that he meant it. Just the mere thought of being held by Lan Wangji, of being kissed by him, of... so many other wonderful possibilities, made Wei Wuxian want to hide his flaming face into his pillow. Lan Wangji smiled. Quietly, he lifted Wei Wuxian's hand and pressed a kiss to the inner side of his wrist. "Rest, I will be right here." Wei Wuxian felt his treacherous little heart soar: oh no … oh no no no no ….. (Xue Yang's voice in narration: and it was in this moment, that Wei Wuxian knew, he fucked up.) The cruellest thing Wei Wuxian ever did was give Lan Wangji hope knowing that one day he would take it all away.