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mrpenguinpants · 3 years

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Genshin: Roommate HCs [V1]

To be honest, I just wanted to ramble some more and let my brainworms take over. This is sorta late but Happy Valentine’s everyone! I was gonna post this earlier but this honestly took me a long time to write so I moved it to today.

Once again, this is 90% crack 10% content. Seriously, as much as I love writing this non-serious fics. Why do you people like this?

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Based off my ramblings with Keqing anon: Link

Genshin: Holding Hands [V1]

Genshin: When you’re cold [V1]

Genshin: University AU [V1]

Genshin: Royalty AU [V1]

[Masterlist]

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[taglist] <- if you want to be added, please read this first.

@youaskedfurret @diaxfeliz @wintergreen-aix @kaechu @thegayrubberducky @lovelykittycatmeow @yuunoagivesmelife @dokidokisama @rokipersonal@minakohasmanyhusbandos @strwbrry-lia @tigerpriestess @yuu-yuukurotsuki @hanniejji @mikeysbike @unionwitch @musekala @sunnshiii @stanzastic @akaasea @xoneaboveallx @adoring-ghost @asheseiler @childelover @dilucsz @dai-tsukki-desu @thicmitten @nonniechan @htnicayh @genshins1mpact

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Diluc

What? Diluc has a roommate? Did you blackmail him in living with you? Is that even possible? Did you throw yourself in front of his car because you needed someone to pay for your student loans and the easiest way was to file a lawsuit? In this economy no one would blame you. Diluc seems like such the self-isolated character that would murder his roommate in cold blood but in reality, he act’s detached from the world because he forgot how to socialize and he’s desperately trying to cover it up without choking. That or he’s trying to learn how to astral project. If he could drink away the pain he would but instead he buys 20 packs of grape Kool-Aid and injects it into his veins.

Does not and will not ever have a normal sleeping schedule. You’ll wake up to him working, come back home to him working, and will sleep to him still working. His daily dose of Vitamin D is from the brightness of his screen rather than the sun and he’s filter feeding at this point. It’s concerning. He’s going to crumble and he’s bringing the world down with him. Through the power of tax evasion. But as soon as he needs to walk out into society, he pulls movie magic and looks like perfection. It’s both physically and mentally disgusting.

He’s actually is a really nice roommate to have just so long as you give him space. Great cook and knows to clean up after himself. Though he does have crash and burn days where’s he’s completely out of commission. You could set the entire apartment on fire and he would sleep through it. The entire two weeks are dedicated to zombie eye marathons and then he’ll suddenly collapse and sleep for 46 hours straight. When he wakes up from his hibernation he’s the most groggy and nonsensical person. His life blood is coffee because you keep hiding the 5 hour energy away from him because, you know, life is enjoyable and those cancer bottles will actually kill him.

“University sucks our money out of our bodies faster than our will to live.”

Beidou [Happy Birthday Queen 💕]

Despite her appearance, she’s actually really strong and it scares the piss out of you when you’re doing something or scrolling through your phone mindlessly and you suddenly get your spine re-arranged when she slaps you on the back to ask what you’re doing. Likewise, when she hoists you up and throws you over her shoulder so you come with her on her 3am convivence store raids for alcohol. It’s either you change now or else we’re walking out of the apartment in your t-shirt and no pants self. She can and will carry you under her arm that way. It’s both incredibly attractive and horrifying at the same time.

She’s really friendly and a great talker if you’re alright with her “I must hold you in my arms, fresh prince of bel air style”. It doesn’t matter if you’re taller than her, she’s doing it. She does however, get in a bit of trouble from her rowdiness and you often get noise complaints but Beidou just passes them off to Ningguang and everything is fixed. She has ovaries of steel when neighbors rather confront her personally and she’s ready to 1v1 in the parking lot. You’re trying to desperately hold onto her shirt to stop her from pile driving your neighbors for the third time this week but she’s too strong.

She’s constant party until we die attitude and suffers the hangover in the morning. It’s actually really funny to catch her in her hangover moods because whatever filter Beidou had, which is none, is gone. She really takes “cursing like a sailor” or the next level and the amount of creativity she comes up with is actually impressive. She can be a bit messy but she’s really likeable and always down to go anywhere with you as long as you’ll do the same. It’s a very ride together, we die together situation. You’re my best friend, you’re dying with me. I’ll see you in hell.

“Imma T pose over my dad and then crash the car into the parking garage.”

Kaeya

Kaeya on the surface seems like such a chill roommate. And he is for the most part. But he’s such an ass. Your things are his things, no questions asked. If you just bought a really nice sweater or you had leftover food, that’s his now. He’s innocent until proven guilty even if he’s literally holding your lunch. The pure amount of bullshit he can spit out to convince you that no, he did not pull the fire alarm because he wanted an excuse for not going to work, puts him on Shakespeare level. He’s also very pretty, way too pretty, sir can you share some of your genes?

But aside from that, he’s actually super dependable. You forgot something at home? Sure, he has nothing better to do so he can bring them for you. We’re missing eggs? No problem, he’s just by the store. You’re 95% sure that he just wants to be cheeky and make you thank him for 20 minutes before he actually hands you what you asked for. It’s better for you if you never tell him anything you’re afraid of because Kaeya has no social cues, or more like he throws them out the window, and he’s probably a psychopath.

He’s incredibly private of his room and things despite his attitude towards yours. You’re convinced he either has a secret lab or that’s where he’s storing the bodies. I was the good guy but due to unfortunate circumstances, I need to stab a bitch. But he’s a really good serious talker for those 3am, because everything happens at 3am, talks about life and the meaning of the universe. It absolutely wrecks your sleep schedule but some of the things you talk about are the most crackhead things like what’s the lowest amount of money someone would have to pay you to walk outside without clothes? It’s a legitimate question.

“Never before have I been so offended with something I 100% agree with.”

Jean

Okay, what world did you save in a past life to live with his absolutely wonderful woman? Mother Teresa take a load off, take a seat. You have nothing to worry about. She’ll bring home little treats back home and it’s the most wholesome thing ever?? Is this what love and affection feels like? We’ve been starved for so long. She says it’s not a big deal and anyone would do it BUT THE MOMENT SOMEONE BUYS FOOD FOR YOU. IT’S A MAGICAL MOMENT. They are forever stuck in your will until proven otherwise. An absolute ray of sunshine that must be protected.

She does get super busy so you don’t often see each other or get to hang out as much. She’s a bit of a workaholic but a lot more easier to talk her into taking a break. She’s also a pretty decent cook but she prefers baking and jesus christ, girl can you calm down? Be still my beating heart, I’ve been smitten. Has mother hen vibes that you’re not sure if she’s your roommate or if she adopted you into her family. It’s time to start a petition for the Jean protection squad. Given the opportunity, I would aggressively hold your hand.

She’s always open to whatever you want to do. Any recommendations or things that you like she will try out at least once despite her busy schedule. She’s lowkey lonely because work consumes her so any time you want to hang out or do something together, she jumps on it like she’s feral. She get’s a bit shy to ask if she can join in on your plans because she doesn’t want to bother you or intrude no matter how many times you tell her that’s okay, she still get’s a bit iffy about it. Please save this girl before she trips. In your arms. Platonically. Just kidding haha. Unless?

“I can’t wait to see you happy and not hating everyone again haha.”

Childe

First impressions of Childe were great, until he opened his mouth and you realized how much of a two brain cell child(e) he was. He has two braincells because they constantly have to 1v1 in his brain. He’s lived with a lot of siblings so he has no social awareness or concept of privacy that you’re lucky if you come home and he’s half-dressed. It doesn’t matter if you’re 2 weeks older than him, he’s going to call you 82 years old and why your bones aren’t being fossilized at this point. He’s such a little shit, this fucker licks the yogurt lid peel.

He get’s really restless when he’s stuck under house arrest, because apparently 1v1ing in the parking lot of a Wendy’s is illegal for some reason, so he makes dying whale noises until he get’s to go outside again. But he’s actually a really wholesome guy, probably because of his younger siblings, that he’ll sometimes get you something because you seemed down and it’s such whiplash? Who is this man and where did he come from? You’re starting to have a change of heart before he tells you that he got banned from the library for accidently punching the school’s computer. How you “accidently” punch something you have no idea but Childe always comes home with some sort of injury. Maybe he’s just incredibly clumsy. For your sanity, you’re going to go with that.

He’s actually so uncultured that it’s crippling. You can’t blame him too much considering his upbringing and it’s great that he’s so interested in learning new things but...child no...It makes you want to take your spine out of your ass and rip it like a Beyblade. Watching him take chopsticks and stab his food like it’s marshmallows makes you want to fall into a blackhole and let the chair consume you.

“I, too, fantasize about beating the living shit out of people.”

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Is this another tag yourself game cause I resonate with Diluc. I’m crying in insomnia. As much as I enjoy writing these fics I absolutely hate tagging them. I remember I used to have a tag anon but that was back when I wrote for bnha.

Valentine’s Day was fun tho. I had a drinking game with friends as we played league then ended it off with a movie night.

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dreamii-yume · 3 years

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When you said しし (shishi) I thought about a piss kink... Mainly because I used to say 'shishi' instead of pee when I was younger

LOL I FORGOT TO ADD THE THIRD SHI—

ALSO— WHY does my brain work better ideas once there’s that one questionable kink in an ask (● ˃̶͈̀ロ˂̶͈́)੭ꠥ⁾⁾I don’t even know if this was a crumb idea or— aaaaa

Ruggie is just that skillful guy who knows a lot about what he’s doing, doesn’t matter what it is, he’ll learn and master it soon enough.

The act of distraction by talking about topics that he knew you would be interested in, that’s also a piece of cake. His voice and seemingly genuine interest in the conversation had you so lost that you didn’t even notice how constantly he kept pouring drinks in your cup. Just as you would finish a glass, he’d rile the conversation towards himself and muses as he saw your eyes sparkled, before you know it, there’s a new batch of drink in your cup once again. He had to stop himself from chuckling out loud every time you would cluelessly down one glass, excited of how this outcome can do for you. Soon enough though, you started reacting as the liquid you consume began building up inside you and visibly froze in your spot.

Ruggie glanced down to see you fidgeting with your thighs squishing against each other, that blush on your face made you look hot and cute at the same time. You were trying to find an opportunity to excuse yourself in the midst of Ruggie’s words, not wanting to seem rude to cut him off mid-sentence. Being the little shit that he is, he purposely prolonged his point of the conversation, observing how you were more focus on keeping your bladder in control rather than actually listening to him now. When he finally finished talking, you hastily stood up from your seat the moment he breaths in, giving him a shaky smile and excusing yourself to the toilet. It was so funny how you didn’t even wait for his answer and just dashed away, Ruggie wonders if you even know where the bathroom is here in Savanaclaw but he guessed that was the least of your worries at that point.

Of course, like the little lost bunny that you are, frantically searched without a plan with Ruggie just watching you from behind. You look like you’re on the verge of tears, closing your eyes from time to time as a way to control your shaking legs. He noticed how you purposely avoided asking for guidance, probably because you didn’t have enough willpower to stomach in the nervousness and your impatient bladder at the same time, but surprisingly, you went and tap a Savanaclaw dorm member’s shoulder for instructions. Now, this made Ruggie tensed up since being a Savanaclaw dorm member himself, he knew their responses would either be as aggressive as he’d imagine, or reasonably rational. Luckily, with your pitiful appearance alone, the Savanaclaw dorm member just instead back down and pointed to the designated bathroom you were looking for.

This made Ruggie sigh, relieved yet disappointed at the same time since his little enjoyment of watching you struggle like a new-born fawn is reaching its end. However, as he trails after your dashing figure, one little fun yet cruel idea came to mind and he isn’t quite sure whether to be disgusted with himself or to praise himself for it. But if he was going to commit in such morbid kind of enjoyment then might as well just partake in it to the fullest, right?

Reaching the toilets filled with different stalls, you found yourself sighing a breath of relief since no one seemed to be around, too distracted by the party going on outside. You walked over to one stall and open it, revealing a perfectly clean toilet and you almost saw it as your bright savior at that moment. However, once you were actually ready to step in inside, a hand snaked its way around your shoulder, startling half of your soul out of you. Your heart began beating so fast once again that you thought your bladder had given out from that shock.

“Hey there, (Y/N)~” His playful voice rang out and you immediately recognized him, the arm began wrapping itself around your neck this time, preventing you from moving away any further. “Fancy seeing you here~”

“R-Ruggie-senpai…” You whimpered out, tears on the side of your eyes as the sight of the toilet in front of you had only urged the temptation of your bladder to just burst. “P-Please let go, I-I need to-“

“Mm-hm! I know, why else would you be here then?” He said in a mocking way, yet is making no actual efforts to comply with what you requested. Instead, you squeaked as his other hand moved up your thigh, brushing his fingertips so gently to create goosebumps along the way. “I just…kinda want to help you out, y’know?”

“Eh!?” You widened your eyes, gasping as his hand reached your clothed flower and started rubbing against it.

“…Oh, you’re already a little wet down here…” Ruggie said, blinking as he rubbed circles around the wet patch of your underwear before smirking right back at you. ”I wonder if you just couldn’t hold yourself longer? You’re such a baby, aren’t you~?”

“N-No, I- Aah…!” You tried protesting and struggling out of his hold, yet he already has your head in an inescapable arm lock and resisting could more or less choke you. He slipped his hand inside, his cold hands making you squeak from a single touch and tried to close your thighs to deny access. “R-Ruggie-senpai…!”

You whined, but Ruggie only hummed in fascination as his fingers rubbed up and down your slit, gathering your slick juices. You tried struggling forward, but that only got you in a more awkward bending position, which oddly worked on his favor. You gasped a shaky breath as his fingers began experimenting on your folds, occasionally pulling on your labia apart and stimulating your insides. The pressure inside you increases and you could only widen your eyes at it, especially when one of his fingers had slipped inside of you as a test. “You’re soaking up, and reallyclenching down on my finger, (Y/N)…Can’t take it anymore?”

You began to sob, mostly out of embarrassment as your nails dug on his arm around your neck, airy moans unconsciously coming out of your mouth as he began to pump in and out of you. You tried your hardest not to burst at that moment, too ashamed to do it in a position and place like this when there was a ready-to-use toilet in front of you, but it was getting more and more difficult at every second. But try as you may though, you couldn’t really control some small streaks of urine to come out of you, especially as he added another finger in. With thrusts that was getting faster and deeper, teasing your bladder out of its constricted binds to just let every dirty liquid you have to just flow in a messy impact. You heard Ruggie chuckling from behind your ears, likely really enjoying his little play and how it was affecting you.

Then, as the cold surface of his thumb came in contact with your sensitive clit, that’s when the last bit of your persistence suddenly crumbles away. Your voice cracked at how sudden the action was and your walls close in on his fingers the tightest it ever had. “Aah!” You exclaimed as a little rub on your nub was all it took for you to break down just like that.

In the midst of his brutal finger-fucking, a surge of liquid came bursting out of you, the relief of your bladder finally being released from the insane pressure had your eyes rolling to the back of your head. Streaks of yellowish liquid trailed down your thighs and stained your panties in an instant, squirting out messily on the floor as your legs shook. “Ah, there it goes!” Ruggie exclaimed but still lodged his fingers deep inside of you, as if curious to see how it flows out like this. It took a good five seconds for you to calm down on your high, there was so many emotions that came out of you; The relief, the pleasure, and soon, the humiliation, but most notably, the sudden exhaustion.

“Alright~ That’s a job well-done, (Y/N)~” Ruggie praised as he adjusted his hold on you as your legs were practically dying at this point. He pulled his fingers out that made you flinch and groan at the same time, and the next thing you knew, you were being hoisted up to the toilet. Sitting there listlessly, you finally saw your Hyena senior grinning smugly at you from ear to ear as if feigning innocence with that signature laugh of his. He looked down at your soaked panties and breath out. “Well, I can’t just leave you here like this, so be a good girl and wait for me inside this stall, okay?”

You groaned in response, not knowing what to actually say or even having enough energy to say anything at all. However, you squeaked as you noticed Ruggie was slowly slipping your ruined underwear off your legs and panicked. “You probably don’t need this anymore, right? I’ll bring you something else to wear so, just sit here and be pretty little thing that you are like always.” He said as he stood up, casually waving your panties around, causing more heat to spread in your face.

Of course, Ruggie noticed such thing and just grinned at your reaction, it’s really fun to mess with you like this. He stepped out of the stall and as he was about to close the door, he stopped and gave you one last look. “Oh, by the way-“ He called out, showing your piss-stained panties tangled on his fingers once again before chuckling. “This counts as a gift, right? Thanks, (Y/N)~”

Then, he finally closes the door, leaving you to contemplate on what the hell just happened.

Now I just need Jack to complete the “Helping-Darling-Pee” series and the Savanaclaw Watersports™ Event would be completed- Seriously, HOW did I end up doing this lol Yume's not even an extreme piss kink fan wtf ─=≡Σ((( つ＞＜)つ Happy fckin Birthday, Ruggie lol

#twisted wonderland #ruggie bucchi #Birthday Crumbs (Ruggie)

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jonspurpleskirt · 3 years

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Sharing Comfort

A/N: This is for @archivalpride. Prompt was “Sharing Clothes” and “Pre-Canon” so I wrote a fluffy piece to celebrate the quiet moments of trust. 1.7k in word length. No warnings apply.

___

Jon did not make friends fast. Most people he found to be too intimidating, boring or exhausting and not many knew what to do with his sudden info dumps and sharp comments that shot out of his mouth seemingly at random.

He'd been alone in Research for a long while because of it and happily so. Things had changed when Tim had joined the Institute, though. Tim had come into the library and sat down opposite Jon with a thunder cloud hanging over his head and pain in his dark eyes. He'd been quiet and snappy in a fake cheerful way that screamed undealt trauma. At least to Jon, who seemed to be the only one to feel the vibes of "Leave me alone" and "I'm grieving" that Tim gave off in a constant stream.

Having Tim as his desk partner was an intense experience despite the way they only ever nodded to each other in greeting at first. But it was also intriguing. A mystery. Jon loved mysteries.

The instances he had ever willingly initiated a conversation with a stranger could be counted on one hand. Which marked the day he tapped Tims shoulder - after roughly two months of co-habiting - to tactfully ask him what he was groaning about as a very special day indeed. They steamrolled into friendship from there, both personalities clashing in the best ways possible.

Jon pulled Tim into nerve wracking research expeditions, Tim flirted them out of being arrested a few times, they went out for drinks and karaoke and movies and stayed late nights to crack nutty cases of supernatural bullshit together.

This went on for months. A nice, comfortable new routine. Jon wasn't alone anymore. And Tim broke out of whatever had pulled him down so much, becoming more cheerful and flirty by the day. Which didn't matter to Jon because Tim would always come to him the most, would always seek out to partner up with Jon and would defend his prickly personality to his dying breath.

And then Sasha joined them. She came from Artefact Storage, which made her a prime target for every curious researcher in a five mile radius. Tim and Jon included. Alright maybe they were the worst of the bunch.

Although Jon only thought of himself as a partner in crime in this one. He had been dragged along by Tim, after all. Sure in the end he had been the one to ask the most questions, but that wouldn't have been the case if he had just been left alone to be antisocial in front of his laptop.

Sasha and Tim, much to Jons chargin, hit it off within the first few seconds. And ever since then their cozy two-someness had turned into a group effort. With specially leverage put on the word "effort".

"Morning Jon!"

Jon let out a deep, rumbly hum, voice not up to the task of supporting words this late in the- He glanced at the little clock at the bottom of his screen. Ah... early in the morning.

With a laugh that was far too cheerful however you would describe the current hour, Sasha sat down next to him. She leaned in to look at what he was working. He leaned away to get her out of his personal bubble.

Her legs brushed his and the rustling drew his gaze downward. She wore a thick wool skirt, long enough not to go against the dress code. It was a somewhat dull navy blue and fell down in enticing waves around her crossed legs.

It looked very soft and comfortable. Jon itched to touch it. Instead he rubbed against the stiff fabric of his own cream coloured dress pants.

"Would you mind?" He snapped at her.

"No. You spelled 'aboriginal' wrong."

"Thank you for your insight. Don't you have anywhere else to be?"

"Don't you?" She shot back, light and quick as though they were just bantering and not fighting over the right to sit at this table.

Sasha huffed at his glare and slid a cup of something steaming over to him. "You keep staying so late that I can buy you a drink at the asscrack of dawn and be sure you're still here to consume it hot. I'm not usually one to judge anyone's sleep schedule. But I'm judging your sleep schedule."

"And yours is any better?" Jon muttered, taking the offering and peeking inside. Black tea with a bit of cream and hopefully enough sugar to rot his teeth out of his mouth. He needed both the coffein and the sweet energy source.

"I'm getting at least two more hours of sleep than you do on a daily basis, so I'm good."

"Tim would have both of our heads if he knew."

Sasha put her hand on the table and stretched out her pinky. "I swear secrecy if you do."

With a snort Jon linked their pinkies. "I'll hold you to that."

So... Maybe Sasha wasn't that bad. She was a little aggressive in her befriending techniques, Jon mused. At least he hoped the early morning chats and cups of tea and coffee were that and not an elaborate plan to get rid of him via slow poisoning. But she was about as curious as Tim and Jon and her skills with computers were very happily exploited by the both of them. So Jon eventually had to admit that she was actually a very nice addition to the group.

Not that he could have ever said no to their friendship. Tim and Sasha put together were a maelstorm of affection, sucking Jon in with a force he had no chance to defend against. And before he knew it they had successfully gotten him accostumed to friday nights at the pub and saturday mornings in their flats, smashed together on a couch or a bed or a mattress depending on who had had the misfortune of playing host that week.

Jon hadn't been this comfortable since Georgie. And that wasn't only the booze talking. It was one of those nights where they ended up leaving the pub early to lounge around Sashas massive sofa instead. Jons head was swimming within a blissful haze of tipsiness.

He was slouching over one end of the couch, head tilted just so that he could watch his two friends bicker. The words didn't really register, but the noise was nice and their expressions were funny.

Without his conscious saying so, his gaze slid down to Sashas leg area. She wore a very eye catching, fluttery red skirt this time around and the way the warm glow of the ceiling lamp was reflected in the material was mesmerizing.

"Oh Jonny boy, don't you know staring like that is rude?" Tim half-joked as he noticed.

Sasha slapped him on the shoulder. "Shush you there's like zero sexual longing in his gaze, Tim. You don't need to go all protective big brother on me. He just really likes my skirts."

"They look comfy." Jon muttered, sinking deeper into the couch.

"Awww. Jon. Jon my love. My friend. My buddy." Tim scooted over to him, nearly face planting on the floor in his eagerness to slide into Jons side. "Is this jealousy I hear?"

"No. Did you just degrade me from lover to lowest friendship tier?"

"Oh I beg to differ." Tim sang, ignoring the question and making Jon scowl harder.

An arm got thrown over his shoulder and Jon was tugged into Tims side, relaxing into the tight hold against his will.

"You know if you didn't make it a sport to buy the most uncomfortable clothing ever, you wouldn't need to glare at Sashas fashion choices all the time. Making other people think things about your intensions."

"Fuck other people."

Jon waited until the surprised laughter of his two friends ebbed down to speak again. "I wanna be comfortable too..."

"Say no more. Sasha to the rescue."

Tim and Jon both whined as she hopped off and darted away into her bedroom. She hadn't been part of the cuddle pile, but her presence was still dearly missed. Thankfully not for long because a few minutes later she reappeared with a long, purple skirt.

"Here you go mister. Go on try it on."

Trading places with her Jon didn't hesitate to shug his trousers off and slip the skirt on. Tim wolf whistled behind him and Jon dutifully showed him a finger. The yelp he heard shortly after told him that Sasha must have taken more direct approach to disciplining Tim.

"Bad boy. I picked that colour for a reason."

Jon flushed at the reminder that Tim and Sasha knew. That they knew and accepted him and even went out of their way to make him comfortable.

"I may not be allowed to touch, but I can still appreciate beauty when I see it."

"Do you need glasses, Tim?" Jon couldn't help but ask while he settled back down.

It was his turn to be slapped on the shoulder. "Nu-uh! No self depricating jokes in my household!"

"Yes ma'am." He scooted over to Sashas side, marveling at the slide of the soft material against his legs. "Anyway. Touching yes. But no sex, only cuddles."

Sasha laughed in delight as she pulled him closer so he could stretch out, the two of them nearly shoving Tim off the couch.

"Wait, wait, wait Jon you're definitely not comfortable yet!"

"Hm?" He frowned at the renewed shifting, jeez everyone was being so squirmy today.

"Dress shirt? Really? Wait a sec."

Tim ended up finding a truly attrocious night shirt he had stored in one of Sashas cupboards. It was rainbow coloured, but at least it was made of a soft cotton and about a size too big on Jon.

"Awww Jon you're adorable!"

"Timothy Stoker don't you dare take a photo."

"Fine, fine. But I will remember this day forever."

It turned out that he didn't need to. The next time they were over at Sashas Jon asked to borrow their clothes again and the next time after, and the next time after that, too. It kind of escalated from there, clothes mixed together until it was hard to remember who owned what.

And that was perfect. Because the most comfortable clothes were always the ones that belonged to his friends.

#tma #archivalpride #my writing #jontimsasha #jonathan sims #tim stoker #sasha james #week one #prompt: sharing clothes #hope i'm doing this right #can be read as friendship #or platonic polycule #i honestly have no clue where to draw the line #fanfic

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my-socialdiary · 4 years

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Behind His Mask

Words Count: 1973

Pairing: Childe x Lumine

Warning: it contains intense fighting scenes, blood

Here we go again, an angsty fanfiction about Childe and Lumine. For these past days I’ve been CONSUMED by this pairing and all I can think is that writing angsty story for them just becauseeeeee. And again, english is not my first language so bear with me >_< enjoy!

***

He pushed them, they went away. It’s fair. It’s how things should be done.

He also pushed her. He pushed her so badly, he even did wicked; he lied, he betrayed her, he even broke her faith in him. He showed her his bad side.

Yet,

She stayed. She smiled. She put up with everything he did.

She’s too good to be true. She’s too perfect for someone like him.

She’s…

Unreal.

Lumine knows sooner or later, she needs to confront her biggest enemy in this quest given by Zhongli. Her enemy, he is someone who is now carving the biggest scar in her life, pushing her away because of the perspective that has been given to him, made him believe that he’s wicked.

Yes, dozens of times, she wanted to run away from him but she just couldn't do that. Somehow, deep down in her heart, she wants to believe… in him.

And today, she’s trying to not let her faith be shaken while she’s seeing Childe一now finally一standing in front of her, showing her that he’s her enemy she needs to beat in order to complete the quest.

“Well… what do we have here?” His voice sounds different. It’s not the voice of Childe she knows. “Finally, the time has come. I don’t need to explain anything, don’t I? Let’s just start the battle, then.” As he was saying that, he forms a water blade each in his hands. The sound of water along with the groans of the whale.

“No. I want an explanation.”

“No. You don’t need one,” he said. “You’ve already seen the facts but you just want to believe in your own thoughts and opinions.” Childe walks forward, he lifts up his right hand and makes a slashing move towards Lumine.

All she needs is just one second. She dodge her way and try to balance herself while aiming her right hand forward, palm facing directly to Childe, ready to cast palm vortex. She’s shocked by Childe’s sudden movement, but she tries to calm herself. She’s now looking at him, and trying to convince herself that this is still the man she knows. But all she sees is that the warm smile is now replaced by a cold, distant smile. “You have no idea who I am, do you?” His eyes were cold and lifeless. There’s anger, rage and… guilt. “Why are you holding back?” He asks with his husky voice. He raised up his eyebrow and gave her a smirk.

“I demand an explanation, Childe,” meanwhile, she takes her sword from her back. “Now.”

“I told you since we first met,” He is now moving again and striking her with his blade, twice. Which makes her now tossed to the side, dealing high damage to her body. Pain creeped up through her palm, making her unable to cast anything except fight him with her sword. “I am a bad guy. But you don’t believe.” Before Childe can do anything, she gathered up her stamina and stood up then ran to the center of the Golden House.

“The truth is, I was just going to aggressively ignore that part until it goes away,” she said. Suddenly, a burst of wind fills up this space. Soon enough Childe sees a hurricane come right towards him, but he doesn’t have enough time to escape from it. The pain it caused is not high enough to stop him so as soon as he freed himself from the grasp of the hurricane, he took out his bow and shot her with six consecutive water arrows. Her body is now marked with Riptide Blast which deals more damage to her body.

“That’s definitely not going to work!” He shouted. He now changes himself into his delusion, which is an electro and casts his homing attack. A purple-ish ring of electricity appears around her body. Before it can deal anymore damage, she runs and attacks him with her sword, once, twice, thrice. Cancelling his moves.

Childe seems tough but now she’s sure that she’s dealing enough damage to him. And that makes her heart ache. But she is still attacking him, half of it represents her anger towards Childe. I hate you. You hurt me. I want to kill you so badly. The tears burst forth like water from a dam, spilling down her face. She feels the muscles of her arms tremble like a small child caught stealing those delicious fried radish balls. Her walls, the walls that hold her up all this time just… collapsed. Ruined. Destroyed.

Her sword is making clanging sound when it met with Childe’s water blade as he tries to defend himself. With her endless attack, she is now slowly pushing Childe to the wall. I can't stop... I can't stop. Why can I not stop crying? She thinks to herself. Her vision is blurry, but she still can see expressions Childe makes. Eventually, she now pinned him to the wall. Panting, she stopped attacking and now looked at him. Her right hand holding a sword pointed to his throat, ready to slit it while her left arm held him in his chest. “All this time… you made me feel so many… emotions,” she muttered between her breath. “I was sad, confused and angry… but I couldn’t understand why,” She pressed her sword gradually into his throat. “But why does it have to be you? Why, Childe, why?” She just broke down. The sobs bursted out, ripping through her throat, muscles, and guts.

She didn’t care anymore. All she wants is just to stop this nonsense, go back in time and choose not to follow him after he saved her from the Millelith guard. She would rather not meet him. Or she would rather not come to Liyue at all.

Next, all she knew was she dropped her sword with a trace of Childe’s blood and pressing her forehead into his chest while grabbing his armor with both hands. She cried. And cried. And cried. She can’t hold it anymore, she chooses not to. The pain came out like madness in the form of a scream. She thought if she acted like it didn’t matter, then it wouldn’t. But turns out the more she pretends, the greater pain she gets.

“I don’t want to put up with everything you did anymore,” She whispered.

***

Memories are the worst form of torture.

And Childe couldn’t agree more with that. You can heal the pain from physical torture with herbs and medicine fom Bubu Pharmacy but you can’t just cut you head off to get rid of things you don’t want to remember. Even though you really want to do that. Even though that ‘thing’ is the most beautiful thing he ever experienced. The thing that he will never, ever dare to dream in his life. And that’s exactly what he feels now.

The muffled sobs wracked against his chest. The world turned into a blur, and so did all the anger he tried to keep. Except for those damn memories. Instead of forgetting it, it keeps playing in his head, rewind itself, filling his mind with a picture of her smiles, her cheerful expression, her flowing hair, her beautiful golden eyes and conclude with the sound of her footsteps, keep coming back to him even though he pushed her away.

Childe, I’m back! Are you feeling better now?

Childe, I hope you don’t mind if I come back here.

Childe, let’s go! You won’t think I’ll leave you here alone, will you?

Childe, I was being too pushy yesterday, wasn’t I? Sorry, I’ll try my best not to do it again if you don’t like it.

Childe…!

Childe!

...Childe!

He tries to shrug that off. He doesn’t want to remember anything at all.

Childe looks down where he sees her bleeding head, probably from one of his attacks. That girl is still burying her face in his chest, clutching his clothes, begging him to stop all of this, while he tried so hard to not lift up both his arms and bring her to his embrace. The sound of her footsteps played again. Stop coming back. Just… stop. I didn’t deserve you. His head now swarms with new formed-regrets.

“I regret a lot of things,” he finally opens his mouth. The heaviness was in his limbs as much as his throat. He sounded tired. “Having this kind of conversation tops the list.” He pushed Lumine from himself just to see her face, now red and wet because of tears. He tried to look away but his eyes were stubborn. “Now let’s finish this game and一”

“Is this a game to you?”

“It’s nothing more than a game with reward,” He forms the electric polearm. Ready to fight her. He’s bleeding, but he doesn’t care. “You should’ve slit my throat. Now I won’t give you another chance.” As he said that, the mask that he keeps on his hair flies over to cover his face entirely. His mind is now consumed and so all of his action. The anger form in a mask is now a safe haven to protect him from the regrets. With this anger, now he can freely do anything he wants. With this anger, his fear of hurting someone he cherishes is now gone.

“I give you the chance to kill me, but you don’t,” With the mask on, his voice has now changed drastically. “This is what cost you for thinking that I can be tricked by your actions!” That gravelly voice is now filling up the entire Golden House, making it tremble a little. Without hesitation, he comes towards the weaponless Lumine and attacks her with his electric polearm. He didn't mind electrifying, slashing and stabbing her with his weapon. Lumine tried nothing to defend herself, she’s now beaten, smacked, thumped and all of her body is screaming with ache but she keeps doing nothing. Because she knows; nothing is matter for him right now. He had been titled Eleventh of The Fatui Harbingers for a reason.

Behind his mask, it pained him to let out all of his attacks to her yet soon enough… a little bit more energy in a form of purple flash and waves combined into one deadly attack should be enough to kill her, giving him a sense of satisfaction amongst agony to end all of this.

Childe is now casting his final spell when suddenly a burst of wind blows away his mask, exposing his rough face. At that time, his eyes locked to Lumine who is now strengthless, her eyes are half closed, and she’s bleeding everywhere. It was Lumine who blew the wind for the last time and made him realize what he did to her.

“Do… it…” She said under her breath.

“No…” The anger is now gone, his emotions are back, his eyes now filled with fear, anxiety and guilt. He threw his polearm and kneel beside the girl who did nothing but good things to him. “What did I do… No…Lumine, no…” He has seen so many deaths, he never truly cried. But now, he’s unable to speak, unable to breath. The world around him becomes darker. The weight in his chest locks in his throats. A token of sorrow and misery. He bawls and screams, and that is more than crying. It sounded like a desolate weeping that comes from a person drowned in the sea of regrets. His tears mingled with the rain outside Golden House which suddenly showered the entire Liyue and his gasping wails echoed around that place.

“Childe一” She whispered, and coughed a little bit.

“All this time,” he cuts her sentence. His voice is now trembling with agony. “Why are you doing that?”

“Doing… what?”

“Treating me…” He sobs, again. “Like a person.”

She smiles. “Because you are.”

#genshin #genshin impact #genshin impact lumine #genshin impact childe #genshin impact fanfiction #fanfiction #childe x lumine #tartaglia genshin #childe #chilumi #angst

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captlok · 3 years

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Pacifism Isn’t A Character Trait

Or: MLK Day is Upon Us so Let Me Do You a Learn

Or: As An Aang Stan I Got a Bit Over-Zealous But Lemme Explain Why For A Hot Minute

Plus some History and Tumblr commentary that even non-ATLA fans can chew on

And by ‘hot minute’ I do mean this is going to be a long meta, so strap in. For those of you who just might be tuning into this debacle, I, a person who has not used Tumblr, much at all, except for the last half year, ran into some trouble.

If you wanna skip the whole TLDNR interpersonal stuffs and get straight to Why Aang is the Best Thing Since Sliced Bread, I will embolden the relevant parts, and italicize the crit of Korra, if you want that alongside.

I was excited that ATLA was seeing a resurgence due to the Netflix remake. I wasn’t even trying to apply any steep expectations for it. (learned not to do that the hard way with the last live action adaption, and to a much lesser extent, ATLOK, since it had good . . . elements, *ba dum tsshh*)

So, these are a couple aspects of the issue: (1) Even on the internet, I am extremely introverted and until recently mostly came for content, not socializing. My main online interactions thus far have been in forums and artist-to-artist on DA. Tumblr is still very strange to me because it splits up its ‘threads’ so you can’t see all the replies if a certain pattern of users responds in their own space. I’m not even 100% sure it’s in chronological order, and replies are not nested next to each other so you can look in the comments and someone will be replying to something you can’t see in that window. And also since it is a bizarre hybrid of a blogging system, posts are somehow considered ‘owned by’ or an ‘extension of’ OP in a way forum threads are not. (2) ATLOK was good in a cinematic and musical way, to be sure. It also had some good concepts. I can go into it just appreciating it for the worldbuilding and be somewhat satisfied. But the execution was terrible. I was on AvatarSpirit.Net for years, and If I had maintained my presence on ASN to current day and had gotten around to downloading their archive now that the forum is dead, I would include some links to other peoples’ detailed analyses on just how flawed both the plotting and Korra’s frustratingly flat learning curve was especially in the first two seasons. But, that is a task for another day, and only if people are interested.

No, what I’m addressing today, on the issue of Korra as a writing exercise, is how Mike and Bryan said specifically they wanted to make her ‘as opposite to Aang as possible’ and in so doing, muddied the central theme of the original ATLA series.

Now, again, I was mainly an art consumer for my first major round of ATLA fandom. Tumblr is an alien beast to me. But, after I write my first major Aang meta, talking about how amazing it is that he has the attitude he does, and how being content in the face of this overwhelming pain and suffering is an ONGOING PROCESS and an INTENTIONAL DECISION and not a simple PERSONALITY TRAIT, I start hearing that Aang gets a lot of hate from the fandom. Now this would be bad enough if it were merely people not liking his crowning moment of pacifism because they don’t understand the potential utility (I’ll elaborate on that in another post) or the ethics involved.

Aang is easily the most adult member of the Gaang. But he apparently gets hate for his few moments where he actually acts his age, a preteen, and maybe kisses a girl in a historical timeframe in which ‘consent’ discussions were probably nonexistent. Even in the present day, we are still practically drowned in movies that reinforce this kissing without asking trope. And even some female bodied people complain that asking kills the mood! But somehow he is responsible and reprehensible for this, even though the first time she kissed him back. I’m only going to get into the pacifism discussion today, but that was just another layer of annoyance bouncing around in the back of my head. Other peoples’ crit of Korra that was stewing in my subconscious, plus this Aang bashing, which thankfully I had not directly read much of, made up the backdrop of gasoline for the match that set it off. Even that seems a pretty melodramatic way to phrase what I actually said, which was: Aang, on the other hand, lost dozens of father figures and was being steamrolled by Ozai who was gloating about genocide TO HIS FACE, yet he still reigned in all that quote, ‘unbelievable rage and pain’ (The Southern Raiders). We Stan Aang, the Superior Avatar. No I did not f**king stutter. #AangSupremacy In another meta, someone complained that I was too defensive of Aang as a character and didn’t apply literary analysis enough, which I quickly rectified.

What set this off? Someone was kind of indirectly praising the line from Korra, “When I get out of here, none of you will survive” To them it was emotionally resonant or whatever, and I have to point out that no, it was a martial artist not having control of their state of mind, as is the bedrock of the practice. It was never addressed by the narrative, which is a severe oversight. I had a conversation with someone in the chats, making this distinction between Korra’s character traits and life philosophy. If she were to kill people while enraged and she was fine with that, that’s one thing. But if she regretted it, that’s a whole other kettle of fish. People argue that she comes from a warrior culture, unlike Aang.

Never mind that warrior monks are a thing. That’s what Shaolin monks are. You can be a pacifist and skilled at fighting. Those things are not mutually exclusive, which is the whole point of Bagua, Aang’s style. And also, Katara’s style.

That’s one reason I like Kataang so much- their congruent styles. Both of their real world martial arts are dedicated to pacifism, even though ATLA specifically doesn’t spell that out for Katara and her learning arc.

There was a meta where someone briefly tried to argue that knowing “martial arts” is against pacifism. No. Quite the opposite. I’d argue that you are not a true pacifist unless you know exactly how to handle yourself if someone attacks you. If you are not in a position to make conscious decisions about how much force to use, rather than merely operating on survival instincts, that is not pacifism. Or at least, not any energy or effort towards pacifism as a practical everyday tool. I’ve made a few attempts to learn some tai chi and aikido, and it’s improved my physical and mental health, but some other things have gotten in the way. #lifegoals

I’m not going to tag the unfortunate soul whom I was replying to, because they’re probably tired of all this, but I’ll be sending them a PM to say that I’ve made this into a different post, because as I mentioned before, threads are somehow considered “owned” by OP, so it’s been pointed out to me that I should separate it. I also said, I have basically ZERO respect for Korra uttering violent threats when the writers already minted a far more emotionally devastated and yet still resilient and centered character earlier in their franchise. People always try to excuse away people who genuinely like Aang more. As if it’s just nostalgia or whatever. For me, no, it’s absolutely not. It is respect for a character who stands toe to toe with real people who are kind in the face of overwhelming injustice. (I have another meta on that).

Both OP and people in the chats try to make excuses that she wasn’t raised as a pacifist, and that would be fine if they had addressed it with Tenzin and she had stated outright that she was rejecting pacifism and mind training. As it is, we are left with this nebulous affair where the lines between ideology and personality traits are blurred.

We are told she “has trouble with spirituality” but what does that even mean? Does she have trouble with focus? Does she have trouble relating to the canonically real spirits? And pacifism specifically nor inner peace that it flows from is never even talked about as an extension of spirituality, which is canonically tied to airbending.

“Aang didn't have to deal once with the loss of his autonomy in atla” OP claims.

This was after I had noted that Aang was getting kicked around by Ozai and was most likely going to die. Similarly, someone in the chat rejected the idea that a 12 year old trapped in a stone sphere that is heating up under a cyclone-sized blowtorch feels powerless.

Sorry but that’s flat out ridiculous.

No one wants to admit that both of these people were faced with similar situations, and when push came to shove, one showed his LIFE PHILOSOPHY through conscious effort, and the other was abandoning the basis of martial arts, which is, no matter what the situation, keep thinking. Hold the panic at bay. Non-attachment would have served her well in this situation. Tenzin should have told her this. Before, or afterwards. It should have been addressed in the writing.

People see this as “bashing” Korra, and oh well, can’t help that. If I think the writers didn’t follow through on their themes, that is my concern. OP said I was “offended.” No, not really.

I wasn’t offended by the post itself, or its commentary. Thought I made that pretty clear.

This is not dramatics. Let me be blunt.

As a ideological pacifist, and an actual practitioner of meditation, based on Buddhism, NOT just the fan of some show, I am for calling out writers who write one way from the survivor of genocide, and then stray from that ‘thoughtless aggression is immoral no matter HOW hurt I am’ to ‘let’s not address this character’s aggression in the narrative whatsoever.’ OP attempted to derail by accusing me of being racist or sexist against Korra. Also ridiculous. It honestly should have set me off more, but it didn’t.

Meditation is about reigning in your emotions. Managing your anger when it gets out of hand, and digging down to the roots of it. Being responsible for your own behavoir. Acknowledging ownership of your own actions. Not blaming anything YOU DO on anyone else or any circumstances in your life. Like an adult, or should I say, an enlightened adult.

Or at the very least, that is the ideal ypu strive towards while being imperfect in the present.

. . .

Now.

I’m going to quote a passage in a Google Doc of mine, even though I’d really prefer if you asked to read the whole thing, with context.

“What do humans do when it is necessary to, or greed makes a nation want to recruit?

They go to the army to get trained, right?

Granted, having someone scream and get spittle on your face is, in the grand scheme of things, poor preparation for having bullets whiz past your chest and grenades shatter your ears. And, what do you do to prepare you for the pain of getting your leg blown off? Hopefully, nothing. Like taking a test where you only got half the study guide. But, it’s about the most ethical way to go about it, right?

Not everyone even sees action. So any more more extensive mental preparation for physical pain than that, and you’d have people definitely protesting.

Well, as it turns out, pacifistic protestors themselves, if they were in the right time and place, also very intentionally do this type of mind training. Except, when they did it, they actually did sit still and took turns roughly grabbing each other and throwing each other down and in some cases, even kicking and bruising each other.

Turns out, those pacifists are, in some ways, more hardcore than the army.

Why is this?

Because a pacifist’s aim, unlike a unit, who wants to gain the upper hand in a situation, is to grit their teeth and grind their way through all those survival instincts, and totally submit.

In this, they aim to get the sympathy of the public, who clearly sees they are not aggressive, or a danger, no matter how much the footage is manipulated or suppressed.

In this, they hope to appeal to their attacker’s better nature.

Make them stop and think, wait a second, are these people a threat like we’re told they are? I’m attacking someone who’s letting me beat them up. Or a bunch of people. All forming a line, and letting us peel them off. Or sitting, and bowing their heads. If I’m on the ‘right’ side of things, the law, why am I doing this?

It’s not like a bully, who’s just a kid.” They’re more self-aware.

And might I add the situation influences a pacifist’s actions too. There’s no reason to let a single or a few random attackers beat you up if you can evade or disable without permanent damage.

Pacifism is a dynamic set of responsive actions informed by values. Not a proscribed set or a checklist.

But in terms of organizing against state power, and recording wrongdoing, which unlike during the Civil Rights can happen from all angles from smart phones nowadays, these are the motivations.

“So, the pacifist knows this, and that’s why they go through all that trouble of training themselves to, not only submit, but not turn tail and run, either.”

See, a character trait is something like being a morning person, or ways of handing information, or a given set of emotions a character feels. Once you cross over into actions, you must make the distinction of whether an impulsive character agrees with their own uncontrolled actions, or is embarrassed or remorseful. Those are life philosophy. Now sure, one type of person or character may be more likely to subscribe to pacifism, but there is no gatekeeping on what you have to feel or how you look at things. You can be easygoing, or feel all the rage in the world, but as long as you at least attempt to have a handle on those desires and feelings to where they do not cross into actions, you are still doing the work of metacognition, which is what martial arts and its accompanying mind training are for.

It’s what we see Aang do.

He’s informed us, during the Southern Raiders, on how much rage and pain he feels.

Pain points, TRIGGERS, that were directly struck at when Ozai gloated over him.

He joins with all the past Avatars for several moments, and just like every other time he is in the Avatar State, he is enraged. He wants to exact revenge on the unrepentant grandson of a baby murderer.

We see it when he turns his head away, face still screwed up in anger.

For another example, I could cite my difficulties in being aware and reining in my tongue sometimes. I know the roots of these issues and I seek to let them go.

It’s just that process takes way longer than Guru Pathik would have us assume.

In fact, I would even say that Aang’s portrayal throughout the three seasons is not strictly a realistic representation of at least the sad side of grief. I addressed that a little when I talked about real life figures. But what it IS, is a metaphor that cuts very deep to the heart of pacifism. As I showed in that Doc . . . There is no limit of suffering a pacifist is willing to go through, internal or external, for the preservation of peace.

This was demonstrated during the Civil Rights, and with Gandhi and all his followers beforehand, inspiring them. The pacifists’ method of swaying hearts is probably the reason BLM exists in such numbers as it does today. Will the types of narratives that correspond with their full stories of the way they collectively planned and trained for and approached conflict make it into fantasy media? I’d say, probably not. For a host of reasons.

It could be hoped for, I guess.

But we DO have Aang.

As for myself, whether speaking sharply is an “action,” per se is up for debate- certainly it doesn’t seem to violate the non-aggression principle put forth by the vision of a “stateless society.”

For another example, let’s take my explanation at the beginning. I am examining how circumstances affected my actions, and now am attempting to fix it, if indeed it needs to be fixed.

At least one person said that it not so much what I said, but how and when I said it. I don’t actually think I’ve said anything “wrong” per se. So I have to figure it out.

[I’m considering splitting up this next part into a second post, as it only slightly relates to pacifism itself and is just kinda some more commentary on Tumblr itself- Tumblr discourse, as it were]

[I’ll put more brackets when I’m done in case you want to skip this part as well]

An interesting social difference between Tumblr and other places is this command you often get, “don’t chat/reblog/message me back.”

This is interesting for several reasons. For chats and reblogs, other people may be following the “conversation,” so it’s actually pretty rude and presumptuous to tell a person not to respond to whatever you said, because other people watching still may be interested in your take.

In a forum setting, if someone involved in a conversation doesn’t have anything left to say, usually they just don’t respond.

This method would work perfectly fine for Tumblr, but for some reason, maybe its super odd format, probably due to the “ownership”/“extension of self” I mentioned at the beginning of the essay, people don’t tend to do this.

Now, in comment sections, sometimes you’ll run across an amusing sort of “mutually assured destruction” where two people both say this to each other. You’d better stop responding. Omg just give up. Why are you still arguing. Etc.

But see, no matter where this behavoir pops up, and no matter who starts in on it, those who do this usually want to have the last say on the matter.

Instead of merely not replying, they want to assert verbal control over the conversation.

Tumblr, in its weirdness, is also sort of like a mutant comments section. You can post comment section threads as your own post.

Which is one reason why I’m puzzled when people say ‘don’t read the comment sections’ when Tumblr is so popular.

I’m an oddball in that I browse comment sections for fun.

Probably due to alexithymia, I didn’t really comprehend the emotional toll it takes on many people, so the warnings to “stay out of comment sections” read to me like “hey don’t eat that dessert.” After I’m done with the ‘meal’ of an article or art, I like to see what lots of different people have to say about it. The fluff. Anything vitriolic I either blip over, or extract anything useful, or if I judge the person is reasonable enough, I might engage.

Sometimes I mis-judge on how reasonable someone is, and I shrug and move on after being cussed out or whatever.

In this, I suppose I succeed much of the time in being a verbal pacifist.

[But let’s get back to the more serious stuff.]

We’re talking about what is done in life or death situations, here.

For myself, I may in the near future be working more with dangerously mentally ill people. I’ve had a little exposure to it through various means. Nurses are obligated not to retaliate against patients, and those who have, have been fired in some situations. Again oddly, this is not primarily what triggers my anxiety. Unfortunately enough, this requirement has also resulted in nurses getting seriously injured and violated. I hope to influence whether “no harm” techniques such as tai chi and aikido and arm locks may be allowed. The voluntary philosophy I was luckily already on board with is enforced by bureauacracy, directly relevant to my potential profession.

Were someone to get involved in a dangerous profession, such as a police officer, their moral duty would also be to own up to any spur of the moment anger or fear they acted on.

It’s just that their bureaucracy acts differently, in excusing their actions.

Ideally, they would be taking steps far in advance, to avoid this often-cited fear of death reaction. As training pacifists like Aang do.

And yes, army people are trained differently than police officers because the army, often, even when threatened, is supposed to avoid engagement or deploy deterrents that are non-lethal almost all costs, unless ordered otherwise. Whereas American police are given pretty much complete discretion and often not taught de-escalation techniques. Even police from other nations are better trained in that regard.

Enter the ironically named @avatarfandompolice whose account description should really speak for itself. Combative, dismissive, and their attention-hungry bread and butter is to find people they think it’s acceptable to ridicule. They basically tried to say trauma was a valid excuse to take out your anger on other people, and in this situation, potentially kill.

Now, does this hold up in the real world? Yeah, sometimes. Especially if some law breaker or law keeper has not been given the anger management tools, they perhaps could be excused, or better yet, rehabilitated.

But especially if anyone finds themselves in dangerous situations, or intends to put themselves in such, it falls to them to do this preparation.

As an aphant, I am at a bit of a disadvantage, compared to an average martial artist, being unable to visualize an attacker. But I still attempt it.

As the main “police officer” of the world- the coincidentally blue clad figurehead that is supposed to keep order, it is apparently fine for Korra to not do the work Aang did to keep level. To blow it off as too much trouble: clearing the First Chakra of fear. For herself or others. And its resultant anger. Had she had access to the Avatar State, the authority figure pretty much would have killed people. This is what the “fandom police” and a certain chat goer ultimately support. Maybe they didn’t understand it that way, and since the second had blocked me, they will also never see this explanation. Unless I were to share it in Google Doc form I suppose.

So, I responded. “Remember kids, you are not responsible for your own behavior if you have the excuse that someone else did something bad to you.” A frighteningly common sentiment on this site.

When it’s low stakes like CAPSLOCKING or internet fights, that’s not such a big deal. But what happens if this attitude leaks into the real world? This isn’t even about Korra or Aang anymore, it’s about toxic mindsets. I didn’t know fans taking pro-Korra posts as anti-Aang was a common in the fandom. I’ll say again I’ve only just gotten really active on Tumblr like the past few months. This is about pacifism itself. MLK and his hardworking, training followers (yes some of them sixteen and POC and not super-powered like Korra) facing down firehoses and staging sit-ins long trained for would shake their heads at this defense of reactionism.

Pacifism is not a Personality Trait.

It is deliberate actions and preparation taken over a period of time.

Then the “fandom police” tried more of this, and these two conversations ensued, the comments with another user resulting in the title and main thesis of this essay:

https://captlok.tumblr.com/post/638777472806273024/avatarfandompolice-response-to-my-independent

https://captlok.tumblr.com/post/638806142933467136/the-plight-was-not-what-i-was-getting-at-it-was

#atla #lok #atlok #atla meta #pacifism #martin luther king #civil rights era #history #blm #mlk #mlkday2021

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whatshername-please · 4 years

Text

Out of the Water - Chapter V

Synopsis: You were very proud to be a mermaid, thank you very much. You didn’t want to be where the people were. Actually, you’d rather avoid it. Defending the merfolk was the biggest goal in your life… well, it was until you meet a certain pirate… it seems that your family really had a thing for humans, after all. Not that you’d ever admit it…

Pairing: Harry x reader

Word count: 4514

Part 5 of ?

Warnings: none? Possibly grammar mistakes? Also, some cuss words

A/N: English isn’t my first language, so I’ll probably mess up some tenses, grammar and stuff. Go easy on me, please. Feedback is always appreciated.

The sun was fading away in the horizon and soon it would be dark and, as you walked, you wondered why everything in this damned kingdom had to be so far away? Didn't they have magic carpets or something like that? Besides, since it was getting darker by the second, the sense of urgency was growing too. You had the feeling that Audrey was just playing with you - she obviously knew where you were, so why she didn't make a move yet? It was like a cat and mouse game and you were the mice heading towards a trap. Also, Mal having the Amber did not put your mind at ease since you didn't have the advantage.

You were literally entering to the lion's lair willingly.

"What happened between you and Hook?" You raised an eyebrow and Evie, who had come to talk to you, explained. "We heard the screaming. I know he can be difficult to deal with, but soon we'll all be in Auradon together".

Evie was way too good for this world, wasn't she? You didn't have the heart to contradict her or tell the atrocity the pirate had done to you.

"I know, sweetie. Don't worry, I'll try to be civil, even if the person in question is an utterly jerk who deserves a punch".

She sighed, looking almost disappointed. Obviously, you didn't give the answer she was hoping for but honestly, what was she expecting from you? Moreover, your response was nice enough, considering Harry was annoying and a water thief.

"That's a beginning, I suppose. But I think we can work on the aggressive attitude, though" she said with a shrug.

Oh, maybe you should have skipped the punching part... If she thought that was violent, you hoped she never found out that you almost chopped Harry's finger off, then.

As the time passed you grew impatient, it was already night and no one was in a chatty mood anymore. As for you, you've never wished for a day to end so fast and, on top of that, something else was bothering you and it was not the perspective of facing Psycho Audrey. Maybe it was the fact that once everything was over, Mal would let the kids off the Isle (it was what she had promised, after all). However, as much as you want to believe her, you had your doubts. Either way, nothing would ever be the same.

Finally, you arrived at Fairy Cottage and crossed the garden very quietly, trying not to draw attention to yourselves. When you finally got at the building, Ben burst the door open.

Great way to go unnoticed.

However, in the end, it didn't matter because Audrey wasn't there and your little journey had been a waste of time, thereby she was still on the loose and you had no one idea where she could be or what she was planning to do (but whatever it was, it would be unpleasant). Suddenly, the sound of a bustling knock filled the air startling everybody. Ben followed the source of the disturbence and discovered a very scared Chad locked in the pantry.

The poor thing looked completely distressed and hysterical and, soon after, he mumbled some nonsense and rushed off without a second thought.

"Well, at least he is pretty" you said out loud. How Cinderela could have had such a foolish son was beyond your comprehension, but his golden locks made up for the lack of discernment.

Harry laughed and the clumsy encounter with Chad lifted everyone's spirit and, when you left the Cottage, there weren't Mal's gang or Uma's crew anymore, just friends trying to save the world. Even if you were all doomed; at least you'd end up things in good terms.

Yeah, that's what you naively thought.

Evie told Ben about Mal's promise and apparently Mal had had other plans that she didn't bother sharing with anyone: she was going to close the barrier for good. No more in, no more out.

Nothing serious or extreme.

No reason to freak out...

Holly shit!

You felt like a fool!

Just to think that you gave your word to Harry and Gil that Ben wouldn't do that! You were so mad that you couldn't even talk and it never happened before! Also, you didn't have the heart to face Uma, not after you said to her things were changing for the better. You knew how Uma pretended to be tough, but right now her spirit had been shattered...

Harry confronted Ben about the lie and you thought he'd lose his shit and gut someone, but he just looked completely broken, like someone had taken away his will to fight. Even though Harry and Uma knew pain and betrayal, they didn't expect this. They trusted the people of Auradon were different and they were let down.

Things weren't suppose to go this way! You wanted to do something! Anything! But what?

It was then that Celia took the amber from Mal's hand and threw it into the water. Well, if you were screwed before, now you were hopeless. At least it was for a good cause, if people in Auradon thought their lives were worthier than the life of the inhabitants of the Isle, let them rot. You couldn't even be mad at Uma for leaving since that was what you wanted to do too, but you knew there was nothing you could do to help her in this moment. Actually, you knew Uma well enough to know that going after her would only bother her.

The words Harry said to you earlier about Auradon's privilege echoed in your mind and you couldn't stay put anymore.

"I know this is not my place to say something. I mean, most of the time I'm not even here, I'm not a VK and closing the barrier doesn't affect my life... but it does. It does because there are people there, good people destined to live a dreadful life just because they were born on that Isle! People in Auradon have been living their perfect little lives where everything is pretty and colorful while we claim to be the good guys, but what we have done to the villains and their kids is atrocious! There will always be good and evil, that's how life works and we can't run away from it. Deciding which path to follow is what defines someone's true self, but in order to make this decision we need to have a chance. Mal, you of all people should know that, you had a chance and now that your life is good you want to deny those children the same opportunity? From this day on, every time you play 'happily ever after' with your prince charming, know that you are doing it at the expense of a child on that Isle"

You wish you had heard Mal's reply, but as soon as you finished talking, the world froze.

_______

Legend says that you were indeed the hottest stone statue in Auradon, but it didn't soothe you a bit. To say you were pissed was not nearly enough to express what you were feeling right now. If Audrey weren't already dying, you would have gladly killed her yourself. The only reason why you were still in the awful human world was Uma... this, and also because becoming stone had consumed all your energies and right now you were way too busy drinking a huge bottle of salted water to not die of dehydration.

Your grandfather would have to choose another diplomat because you were never ever setting foot on land again.

Maybe, if you weren't so angry, you would have choked on your drink when Mal told Hades was her father.

It explained a lot about her, though.

So, Hades, Mal's father, was the only one who could save Audrey and they were going to fetch him on the Isle to help the dying girl. Oh! The double standard! When a kid from Auradon curses everybody is "a mistake", but if someone from the Isle does that is "they are too dangerous, let's lock them up forever". Is it fair? No. Does anyone care? Also no.

You thought it couldn't get any worse, but boy, you were wrong. Uma just said she was going back to the Isle, which was pretty understandable and expected, but you had one itty-bitty tiny hope that she would stay.

Oh, on top of that, everyone accepted Mal and Ben's selfish decision to close the barrier. You scoffed under your breath, salted water wasn't enough to deal with all this, you needed something stronger, like vodka. The good thing was, since everyone was leaving and your cousins were safe, you had no more business in the human world and you took your cue from the VKs to announce your own departure too.

You waited for the limo alongside Uma, Harry, Gil and Celia, the atmosphere was tense, and you had seen happier people at funerals.

"I thought you were going back to Atlantica" the teal haired girl said, breaking the overwhelming silence.

"I'll go with you... until we reach the barrier, at least" your voice was more hoarse than you expected it to.

"Yeah, don't want to risk getting trapped, right?" If this was supposed to be a mean comment, Harry had failed; he just sounded sad, like everyone else. The pirate wasn't expecting an answer but you gave him one, anyway.

"I wouldn't mind going to the Isle, but there is no magic there and no magic means no legs for me, so you would be stuck with a mermaid... unless you don't care to carry me around..." you half-joked.

The car finally arrived and you got into it. It was nice that Ben sent the limo to pick up the VKs, and the guard's vehicle was going ahead, probably to go find Hades. There was all sorts of food in the limo, but no one touched them because all of you were way too lost in your own minds to be hungry. As you were approaching the Isle the unsettling feeling in your stomach grew worst and there was definitely something wrong with your eyes. Just before the car crossed the barrier, you asked the driver to stop. For one second, it seemed he would argue against it, but you gave him a warning look, since you weren't in the mood for more useless fights.

"Uma, can we talk outside for one second, please?" you asked.

You two got out of the car and, as soon as Uma closed the door, you hugged her.

"I'm sorry, Uma. I'm so sorry" the only thing you could do was to repeat how sorry you were, but you knew your apologies didn't change anything.

"I know" she reassured you, looking in your eyes "It's not your fault, you shouldn't be apologizing".

"Someone has to" you said, your felt so tight in your chest that hurt. Then, Uma smiled and hold your hand.

"Thanks for everything you've done for me. I don't know how I would have gone through the past months without you"

"You'd have done just fine, you're a fighter" it was now or never, you lowered your voice so even if someone in the car was paying attention to the conversation, they wouldn't hear you "You can still change your mind, let's go back to Atlantica and, before you interrupt me, Harry and Gil can come too. I have no idea how this is going to work but we'll figure it out" you offered her - you had to try.

"You know I can't abandon the Isle, speacially now" her eyes were full of sorrow, she knew exactly what meant to go back "Maybe you can swim near the barrier so we can see each other from time to time".

You knew she would say that, but it didn't mean it hurt any less.

"Definitely!" you tried to sound cheerful, but the words that left your mouth were robotic and fake "We'll see each other again".

This was a lie, even if you saw each other it would never be the same. The realization hit you hard and that weird feeling that you had in the car, finally made sense when streams of salt water started falling from your eyes.

"I'm leaking!" you freaked out "What is that?! I'm leaking!"

"You're crying, you idiot" she laughed, her eyes watering too.

"Nonsense, mermaids don..." before you could complete the sentence, Uma hugged you again, which made you start crying even harder.

No, not crying, leaking.

"I promise, Uma. I'll not stop fighting for the Isle. I'll talk to Mal, Ben or whoever I must to! They will change their minds, even if, in order to do so, I have to summon up the wrath of the ocean upon them".

You didn't know how long you two stayed crying in each others arms but a voice with a thick accent called both of you after a while.

"Are you ladies alright?" Harry asked. The pirate and Gil were standing there next to both of you. The dark haired boy had a hint of curiosity on his face but he knew better than to tease his captain.

You two pulled away from the hug, Uma looked slightly embarassed to get caught in such an emotional moment.

"I can't believe I'm leaking" you said while trying to wipe away the tears from your eyes; however, they insisted on falling down.

This was so awkward.

"You're not leaking, you're crying" Gil's brow furrowed "Don't you know what crying is?"

"Yes, I do... it's just I've never cried before..." you said between sobs.

"Wow, life in Auradon must be really perfect if people don't even cry here" for the firts time since you met him, he sounded sad. The boy was probably thinking about all the opportunities he would never have in Auradon because he was destined to live on the Isle forever.

They took away Gil's bright smile and you could not forgive that.

"It's not that... I live in the sea, tears don't fall when you are under water" you explained, finally calming down.

"Maybe the ocean is just a big pool of mermaid's tears." Gil said absently, eyeing the vast blue ocean in front of him and you couldn't help but hug the blonde boy too.

The Sea Bitch was such a softie.

"It was a pleasure to meet you, Gil. I wish we had more time to know each other better, but I know for sure that you're loyal, brave and gentle. I hope you are very happy. You deserve it".

You broke apart short after and Gil seemed very touched by your words.

"Thanks... that was one of nicest things that someone ever said to me" he offered you a shy smile "I wish you the same".

You looked at Harry, who looked back right into your eyes. You stared at each other until you hold out your hand, which he accepted. It was weird, Harry Hook has gotten on your nerves since the very first moment you met. He was smug, annoying and a little crazy, but at the same time he was very funny and fearless, qualities that you admired. You wanted to say something, but before you could open your mouth he let go of your hand.

That was it, then.

You also said goodbye to Celia and wished her the best. Then, the VKs got into the car again and, since Harry was the last one standing outside, you took the chance to ask him a favor.

"Please, take care of Uma"

His face broke into small smile and he nodded slightly.

You watched with a shattered heart the limo cross the barrier, taking away your friends from you forever.

There was nothing else you could do, so you jumped into the ocean and disappeared between the waves.

Not an hour ago all you wanted was to be back home, but now everything seemed pointless. For the last months Uma lived in Atlantica and going back without her gave you a knot in the stomach, things wouldn't be the same anymore without your friend there. The two of you used to spend hours plotting ways to get everyone off the Isle, finding a hole in the barrier or just talking about the future... and now you had nothing but crushed hopes. Of course you wouldn't give up, but you felt like you had moved backwards 10 spaces in the game, you fought for the merfolk on the Isle for so long and when it finally seemed that everything was going to be fine, it was a lie.

You were so absorbed in your thoughts that you didn't pay attention to where you were heading, which caused you to bump into your mother and younger brother.

"Where have you been"? Attina asked, her voice was somewhere between angry and concerned, but it was impossible to miss the vein popping out on her forehead "I was worried sick about you!"

"Sorry mom, I was in Auradon" you told her, knowing very well that this answer would only upset her more because there was no way she hadn't hear about Audrey and her little mishap.

"Auradon?!" The look of horror on her face made clear that she knew about what happened and wasn't happy about it. If humans thought you were hardcore, it was because they never talked to your mother "Do you know what Sleeping Beauty's daughter did?"

If you knew? You lived and survived it.

"I heard even Uma was there! Your grandfather was almost sending guards to look for you and your cousins! What happened?"

"Did you finally meet Uma, then?" your brother, Nereus, joined the conversation. He didn't know anything about Uma or that you two were friends. Also, he had no idea that he had talked to her many times when she was under the charm spell.

Then, your mother called by your full name, which never meant something good.

"You weren't there in hopes to befriend Ursula's daughter and bring all the merfolk from the Isle to Atlatica, were you?" Your mother knew you so well... and she wasn't happy.

"Of course not, mom..." I'm already friends with Uma, you added mentally.

Before she started complaining, you explained everything that happened that day (ok, almost everything, you definitely skipped some parts). Her disapproval face grew to the point her vein was ready to explode, while your brother gasped and cheered at the most exciting parts, as you told the story. Under other circumstances you would have narrated the events in a dramatic and majestic way, not sparing any single detail; however, it was way too painful to remember that was your first and last adventure with Uma and her crew.

"Will they close the barrier forever for real?" Nereus asked and, when you nodded, he offered you a sympathetic smile. He knew how much you fought for the merpeople on the Isle.

Your mother, on the other hand, had other things bothering her.

"So, you tell me that they let a bunch of kids fight against a delusional girl who held one of the most dangerous tools of dark magic in the kingdom? Where were Fairy Godmother, the Blue Fairy, the 3 Good Fairies? You can't trust fairies, that's what I always say to your grandfather! Where were Belle and the Beast? Any adults?!" as she talked, her voice got more and more high-pitched, until she was practically shouting.

"They were probably under Audrey's spell" you enlightned her, even knowing that it would not ease her mind one bit.

"That's an absurd! How can we trust our kids to go to Auradon Prep if they can't keep the security system of a museum working properly?!"

You and your brother exchanged looks. Although your mother had a valid point, you didn't want to hear any of it, which was odd, because you never missed the opportunity to roast the human world.

Claiming to be tired, you excused yourself and swam to your room and, as soon as you got there, you glanced at the spot where Uma would used to stay, knowing that you'd probably never talk to her again. You felt like someone was crushing your heart and if you weren't under the sea, tears would be rolling down your face. You lay on the bed, trying to stop thinking about Uma, the Isle and everything. It was a good thing that you were exhausted, so you soon fell into a dreamless sleep.

You weren't sure how much time had passed, but, suddenly, you were woken by someone knocking on your door. You cursed under your breath, who, in the seven seas, was disturbing you right now? Not even bothering to look up, you invited whoever was at your door to come in, you heard them entering and closing the door and, after a moment, you felt the weight of someone sitting on your bed.

They coughed and you recognized the deep voice that belonged to none other than your grandfather, King Triton.

"Grandpa!" you sat up quickly and hugged him.

"Hello, my dear" everyone feared your grandfather for he had quite a dauntless reputation (even you had to admit that he was frightening sometimes), also, his temper was known in all Auradon. However, when he looked at you with those gentle eyes, you forgot he was the King of the ocean, in these moments he was just your grandfather and you fell protected and loved near him.

"Oh grandpa, it was dreadful and I'm misarable" you hugged him again, hiding your face on his neck.

"Your mother told me what happened and that King Ben wants to close the barrier" his voice was so calm that it was difficult to imagine that when he was angry he could create storms and tsunamis.

"That's horrible. I feel so powerless and guilty! I know most of people think everyone in the Isle is evil but that's not true! They are kind and loyal and they don't deserve to be doomed to perish in that place! You should have seem their faces when Mal told them the program had been shut down" your grandfather wasn't know for his love for villains, everytime someone brought Ursula up he got riled up and changed the subject quickly, but you needed to speak out.

"And who are 'they' that you're talking about?" he asked, stroking you hair softly to confort you.

"You know... Celia, Gil, Harry... and Uma" you were nervous to talk about Uma with him. Actually, despite him knowing that you were in charge for her "search party" you have never discussed that you wanted to bring her to Atlantica, even more that you had brought her to the palace clandestinely and that she lived under his roof for months.

"Uma?" his voice was stern when he said your friend's name.

"Grandpa" you straightned up and looked him in the eye "I know it must be hard for you because Ursula caused great pain to our family but Uma has nothing to do with it, she is brave, smart and care so much about other people. She had the chance to stay in Auradon but she came back to the Isle because she couldn't abandon them! She might has taken some questionable decisions, but who hasn't? She was fighting for what she believed was right! Isn't it what you taught me?"

King Triton furrowed his brows; the wrinkles in his forehead were visible which could only mean he was deliberating something.

"You do seem to know a lot about her" he said after a while, his voice and face were severe and you swallowed... this conversation was taking a dangerous path.

"Well... I..."

Before you could finish the sentence, your grandfather cut you off.

"I know what you did"

You froze, he couldn't possibly be talking about Uma living in Atlantica. There was no way he knew that, if he had had any suspicion of what you did, he would have been beyond furious, so you tried to play cool.

"What are you talking about, grandpa?"

He raised an eyebrow and sighed.

"I know you brought Uma to live here in Atlantica"

And then you died.

The end.

Oh wait.

You weren't dead... but you were sure your grandfather just told you that he knew about Uma... Something was terribly wrong. He probably noticed your bulging eyes and horrified expression because he elucidated soon after.

"I raised seven daughters, my darling. I don't need my trident to see through a charm spell and a lie" it was weird, his voice was strangely serene and he looked slightly amused.

"But... how... like... why... Aren't you angry?" there weren't enough words to describe your shock right now.

"I learned to trust the people I love a long time ago, even when we don't agree on the subject." his tone was solemn and wise and it made you feel so small and pathetic because you knew you had disappointed him.

"I'm sorry, grandpa.... I'm sorry that I lied to you and that I disappointed you, but I'm not sorry for what I did" you didn't have the courage to look him in the eyes, but he lifted up your face and smiled.

"You didn't disappoint me. I trusted you enough to let you do what you thought was right, that was what I taught you. And considering everything I saw in the last months, I believe Uma is a good girl and I'm glad you're friends"

You returned his smile, not in your wildest dreams you thought your grandfather would understand this and it made you so glad how supportive and understanding he was about everything.

"I'm sorry for lying to you! I won't do it again" you promised him.

"You're young, you will" he laughed it off "But trust me when I say that I'll be by your side no matter what"

Everything should be perfect; however, there were a bitter feeling in your mouth and a knot in the pit of your stomach that you couldn't get rid of. In the end, it didn't matter if your grandfather trusted Uma or not, because she would be trapped on the Isle forever.

"So… I think I need your help" you bit your lip, uncertain of how to say it "We can't let them close the barrier for good, but I don't know what to do!"

"Don't worry, I promised I'll talk to King Ben about this. They can't just close the barrier like this without measuring the consequences" he reassured you "Now, rest, my darling. You had a long day"

He got up and swan towards your door, but before leaving he turned his head and said.

"Otherwise, you have my permission to summon up the wrath of the ocean upon them" he winked at you and left.

"Wait" you whispered to yourself "How does he even know?"

And then it hit you.

"SEBASTIAN!"

#harry hook x reader #harry hook #harry hook x you #harry hook imagine #descendants #descendants imagine #descendants x reader #uma daughter of ursula #descedants fanfiction #out of the water

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imjeralee · 3 years

Text

Comfort in Despair: Chapter 26 - Away From the Maddening Crowd

Leon x F!Reader

Disclaimer: Do not own Pokemon

Summary:

Galar is rich in folklore and tales of the supernatural.

As a Pokemon Researcher who specialises in ghost types, this is a great opportunity for you to investigate and learn more about the paranormal.

Along the way, you meet Leon (in the most awkward way possible) who becomes embroiled in your adventures.

^ Basically this story is about ghosts :/

NOTE: Again I have let Genshin Impact to consume my soul so I updated this on Tumblr a bit late sorry!!!

Rating: General/Teen

@marydragneell here is the latest update

Away From the Maddening Crowd

…

[Aura:

1. A form of spiritual energy described as the essence of every living creature.

2. There were humans who could sense Aura and control its power. These humans were known as Aura Guardians and they traveled around doing good deeds and passing on their skills to those who also possessed this innate ability. However, they also disappeared from history, for some undisclosed reason.]

…

In the early morning, you head to the cemetery to find Ezra, only to discover it is empty and the stone steps to the mausoleum have been destroyed.

Whilst you wonder what could have happened, a note weighed down by a rock near the abandoned mausoleum is your clue and you peel it off, scanning the contents. It’s been written in Ezra’s messy handwriting and it says:

[I’m on a case and have gone out to do some investigation. Be back soon.]

“I hope he's okay,” you utter under your breath as you pocket the note; it occurs to you that you don't worry about Ezra often unless it's to do with his general wellbeing and health. He's never bothered you with his own missions and you don't doubt his proficiency in handling evil spirits.

You had wanted to ask him about Gossamer Cave but it looks like you’re on your own for the time being so you return home where Magnolia has some nice, piping hot breakfast waiting for you when you announce your return. You will also be going shopping with Sonia later to find a dress for the party Leon invited you to.

At the table, you sit with various atlases and maps in front of you, along with your laptop propped open as you drink your soup and munch on toast.

“What are you doing?” Sonia asks, as you bury yourself nose-deep in a book.

“Ezra took me to a place called Gossamer Cave in the Wild Area several years ago, I can’t seem to find it anywhere on any maps.”

“I don’t recall there being a place called Gossamer Cave in the Wild Area,” she replies as she casually spreads some cheri berry jam over her toast with the knife. “Why are you looking for it?”

“Never mind,” you utter quickly, “it’s probably changed names or something.”

Strange thing is, none of these atlases or maps show any caves or sinkholes within the Dusty Bowl area at all.

Frustrated, you put down your work to focus on your breakfast, though today’s newspaper headline becomes your next highlight.

The front page is covered with content about Flora’s murder. You read all about it: her mother has been found guilty to manslaughter. Hank has been released, and Frankie will be returning to boarding school...though you didn’t receive any further follow-up from her.

A section concerning Leon’s upcoming match with Volkner is also squashed beside the article. You skim through it and turn to the next page, spotting a large photo of Leon so you grab some scissors and snip it out carefully.

Sonia giggles as you slip the photo into your journal. You’ve begun a small collection to show unwavering support for your boyfriend, cutting out any articles or photos about him from all sorts of magazines or newspapers you come across.

You’re certain his mum and Hop do the same so it’ll be interesting to share what you have collected in the future.

Meanwhile, Magnolia wanders around the kitchen, asking, “Has anyone seen Sunkern and Cutiefly?” She’s checking the cupboards and under the table. “Sunkern? Cutiefly? Where are you?"

“Did you check the conservatory?” Sonia asks.

“I already did, they’re not there.”

“Where was the last place you saw them?” you ask.

“I left them playing together over there,” Magnolia replies in confusion, gesturing to a potted plant near one of the windows, “and now they’re gone.”

You and Sonia leave your seats to assist the professor with the search but unfortunately have no luck locating the two pokemon and Magnolia gives up for the time being. Maybe they have managed to bounce off somewhere to play and will return later. The pokemon have gone off to play before.

“Sunkern, Cutiefly, are you upstairs?” Magnolia can be heard as she disappears up the staircase.

After breakfast, you and Sonia get ready to go out until the doorbell rings and Runerigus stops washing the dishes to float over, opening the door.

“Oh, hello there, sir!” exclaims a cheerful voice and both you and Sonia leave the room and into the landing, peering over the railing to see Leon’s mum at the doorstep with Hop and Wooloo by her side. “I’m looking for…”

She says your name and you and Sonia exchange glances before quickly heading down the stairs and Leon’s mum spots you; she smiles widely at your arrival, waving cheerily and Runerigus hops backwards to give you more space.

“Hello my dears!” Leon’s mum greets you two, “how are you?”

“We’re fine, thank you.”

After the pleasantries and small talk are over, she says, “I have a favour to ask you-“

“Muuuuum,” Hop whines in the background as she grabs him and steers him towards your direction, smiling widely.

“Can you please look after my Hip-Hop whilst I take the grandparents to the community centre?”

“Mum, I’m old enough to look after myself,” Hop wails, only to be ignored.

“Sure, Sonia and I were going to go out shopping so Hop can join us."

Hop’s eyes brighten up at once. “You are? Where are you going?”

“Wyndon Shopping Centre,” Sonia replies.

“Take me with you!” Hop abruptly yells, pumping his fists into the air and Wooloo bleating happily beside him.

Leon’s mum claps her hands together with glee. “Excellent, I’ll leave Anthony Hop-kins in your care then.”

“Muuuuum!” Hop wails in horror, his face reddening whilst you and Sonia giggle.

“Goodbye!” she says after pecking Hop on the cheek and ruffling his hair, before she dashes to their car which is parked in the front lawn near the bench. It resembles a Charizard. “Have fun, Hop! I’ll be back to pick you up by five!”

“Okay, bye mum!”

You watch as she steers the car out and onto the main road, chugging out of sight in minutes.

“Well, looks like you’re stuck with us,” Sonia says, and Hop turns round to you with a grin, folding his arms behind his head.

Hop nods. “Are we going now?”

“Yep!”

“Awesome!”

You quickly don your shoes whilst Sonia fetches her car keys; she will be driving you to the shopping centre. Magnolia sees you off and you’re about to enter the car when a stone smacks into the door from out of nowhere, just inches from the handle and promptly drops to the ground.

A look of annoyance crosses Sonia’s face at once as the stone rolls close to her feet and she looks up and around. “Hey! Who did that?! Who’s there?”

Another stone is tossed at the car, this time, aimed at one of the lights and your group turns round to see a little boy emerging from one of the bushes close to the house with a pile of stones in his hand.

“Witch!” he yells, pointing at you accusingly.

You remember this youngster; he was part of the trio who had ambushed you outside the lab the night when Leon had gifted you the flowers. You had spared him (although you thought your pokemon had taught him a lesson but it seems unlikely) and now he’s back with a vengeance.

“Hey, what gives, Johnny?!” Hop yells furiously, before he rolls the sleeves of his coat higher over his arms and promptly marches over.

Johnny? Must be a classmate of Hop’s.

“Hop, wait-“ Sonia says, but Hop’s almost nose-to-nose with the smarmy-looking kid.

“Shut up, Helmet Hair!!!” the boy yells; it dawns to you that this child and Hop are potentially the same age, being almost the same height and all.

“H-helmet hair?” Hop croaks out, wide-eyed.

“Hop, ignore him, let’s just go,” you mutter, but he shakes his head rigorously.

“No way! I’m defending your honor!” Hop yells. “Leave her alone! What she’d ever do to you?”

“My mum and dad says she’s an evil witch and must be destroyed! Anyone helping her must be destroyed too!”

“What?!” Hop and Sonia exclaim in unison.

“Go Spearow!” yells the kid; he tosses a pokeball into the air to reveal a small but familiar and rather mean-looking bird who flaps its short wings in the air before it quickly zooms towards Hop and Wooloo. “Quick Attack!”

“Dodge it, Wooloo!” Hop yells, and Wooloo acknowledges the instruction with a bleat and rolls to the left, successfully evading the assault. Hop scurries to the side, taking an offensive stance and placing some distance between him and his opponent.

A mini battle is taking place; Hop’s skills are impressive as he coordinates with his pokemon and swiftly instructs Wooloo to attack. You and Sonia quickly rush to a safe spot to observe with Sonia actively cheering for him.

“Go Hop, go!” she exclaims, and Hop tells Wooloo to counterattack with a Tackle.

The Spearow avoids by flying to the right and responds with a Peck attack. Wooloo cries out, squeezing its eyes shut as the bird pecks at its head aggressively.

“Wooloo, no!” Hop yelps, as the sheep struggles.

“Spearow, finish it off with a Fury Attack!”

“Not on my watch!” Hop shouts, “Wooloo, use Defense Curl!”

The sheep abruptly rolls into a tight ball and Spearow’s attack bounces off its large and fluffy hide, reducing the attack to nothingness.

“Now use Tackle!” Hop instructs and Wooloo springs out of its curled form to rapidly ram itself against the bird that had come too close for comfort.

Wooloo successfully knocks out the rampaging Spearow and it flops to the ground, out cold and unmoving. It was a critical hit!

“Well done, Hop!” you and Sonia cheer, whooping loudly whilst the punk kid named Johnny growls under his breath and returns his fainted pokemon into its capsule.

“Y-you’ll pay for this!” he yells before he rapidly spins on his heel and sprints down the path and out of sight.

“I won!” Hop cheers and everyone exchanges high fives when he rushes up to you happily. “That was sooooo awesome! And Wooloo!!! You were amazing!”

He picks up the sheep and throws her around in the air and in circles. Wooloo bleats loudly in response and they both share an embrace.

“Hey, he didn’t give you any prize money,” you pipe up.

“Eh, it’s fine.”

“Alright, shall we go? We’re running late,” Sonia says, nudging her head to the car and opening the door; Hops scrabbles into the backseat with his pokemon.

“Come on, let’s go!!” Sonia honks the horn whilst Hop pokes his head out of the window.

“Yeah!!! Let’s goooo!” he echoes loudly.

“Coming,” you reply.

…

When the car has left and is out of sight, a pokemon emerges from its hiding place in the shadows.

It had been watching your group the entire time before it stares at the direction where the boy had run off to. It had wanted to follow you, but it cannot pass up on this opportunity.

Hovering in the air, it floats silently towards the boy’s direction with a smirk, having found its prey.

…

Sonia’s brought you to a boutique which is immensely popular and trending in Galarian Chatot and so the shopping excursion begins. Hops lags behind with his arms folded behind his back, glancing around inquisitively.

“Well, what do you think?” she says with a cheery smile plastered on her face.

“It’s so bright and shiny here,” Hop remarks with a groan.

“It’s huge,” you blurt out, glancing around.

“Yep!! Let’s begin!”

The store is beautiful, with décor out of a fairytale book or a princess castle. With pale pink walls adorned with lacy drapes and fake roses, plush white rugs and plastic models of fairy pokemon standing beside mannequins, saleswomen and men dressed in exceptionally smart suits and skirts rush to the aid of their well-off patrons whilst you and Sonia head unnoticed to the dress section.

You had told Sonia you were wanting to wear something red (but not as flashy as the Miss Motostoke dresses) so she quickly locates where all the dresses of a variety of plum, crimson or scarlet shades have been grouped together.

Bored, Hop sits down on the plushy ottoman provided and Sonia begins rifling through one of the racks. You’re not sure where to begin exactly so you start at the opposite side and browse on your own.

Recalling Leon’s outfit in your mind, you hope to find something suitable but all you come across are styles that are simply too girly, too lacy, too short, too long, too pink or too purple or too peachy for your liking.

“Here, try this one,” Sonia approaches you with several dresses protected by plastic covers looped over one arm. “This one too.”

She hands you two dresses.

“And this one.”

A third is placed under your care.

She lifts up a fourth; it’s scarlet and full of ruffles. “Hmm, not this one. Let me put it back…”

A saleswoman rushes over to help you out. “Let me get those for you, madam…” she says, scooping them out of your hands.

“Thank you.”

“Can I help you with anything?”

“Nope! We’re good,” Sonia says, returning to your side, “here, you should try these on.”

The dressing rooms are an equally pink abomination, with thick white drapes and an abundance of fake roses sewn over them. Sonia squeals with glee and takes several selfies with the curtains whilst Hop and Wooloo sit down on the white leather couch in front of your cubicle.

“You okay, Hop?” you ask, and he nods. “Are you hungry?”

“Not yet.”

“We’ll get something to eat afterwards.”

“Okay,” he replies, before he grins widely at you. “I am kinda thirsty though.”

You remember there was a smoothie bar outside the shop and you fish some money out of your pocket, handing it to him. “Here, get yourself something to drink.”

He blinks his golden eyes before his cheeks turn pink. “Oh, um, I-I shouldn’t…mum says I shouldn’t-“

“It’s okay, Hop, go ahead.”

He grins widely at you in response. “Thanks, mate!”

You smile and watch as he sprints off, then you disappear into the cubicle and pull the curtain back, lifting up one of the dresses to eye level. Sonia has chosen an exquisite one-shoulder cardinal red dress. You hurriedly slip out of your clothes and slip it on, the silky material slinking over your belly and hips.

“Wow,” you cannot help but croak out; you’ve never worn anything so fancy before in your life.

As you stand in front of the mirror, you hear Sonia saying, “So? How is it? Let me see!”

“Okay, hold on,” you murmur, before you pull the curtain back.

Sonia is lounging lazily and sits up properly once you appear; Sonia lets out a gasp of awe, her eyes lighting up. “You look great!!”

“…I’m not sure about this one. Let me try on the next one.”

Disappearing inside the cubicle for a second time, you shimmy out of the dress and put the next one on; outside and you can hear Hop returning.

“Hey, what’d I miss?”

“Nothing much,” Sonia replies with a giggle, and you pull the curtain back, stepping outside.

Hop is sipping on a large smoothie and he looks at you up and down.

“What’d you guys think?” you ask.

“I like it!” Sonia exclaims.

“Are you sure? Something doesn’t feel right,” you utter. “Hop?”

He puts a hand under his chin. “I agree. It’s not Lee’s style’s either.”

“Exactly. Too lacy, I think.”

With that, you pull the curtain and step out of the dress as carefully as you can, hang it back up properly and grab the next one in the queue. It’s mulberry red and off-the-shoulder. You also show Sonia and Hop for their opinions. On this occasion, Sonia dislikes it but Hop shows a thumbs up.

You’re also personally not too keen on this one either so you move onto the next dress. The next one is cinnamon rose, A-line and asymmetrical and the moment you don it, you stare at your reflection and realise it’s perfect; this is it.

This is the one.

Pushing the curtain apart for the final time, Sonia and Hop rise from their seats to gawp as you stand before them with a grin.

“It’s this one,” you say, “I’ll take this one.”

…

It's the day of Leon’s battle with Volkner, and the entire Galar region is abuzz with anticipation.

The TV blasts adverts about the match, informing people to get their hands on tickets as soon as they can as it is the ‘match of the century’ (despite all tickets being sold out six months prior). Convenience stores begin selling Leon and Volkner merchandise. Their faces are slapped everywhere you look – on milk cartons, train tickets, billboards and posters. Everyone’s celebrating.

You realise it’s rather nice to be part of something as important as this, as you queue in the stadium with your VIP pass in hands.

Prior and you did tell Volkner that you had given your ticket to Jace since you already possessed a Wyndon Annual Pass. Your seat for the match is front row, in a block on Leon’s side, which is considered one of the best seats of the entire stadium. Leon had really gone all out to ensure you would be able to get a good view.

The party begins two hours or so after the match, and you aren’t sure if that gives Leon enough downtime but you presume he must be used to this kind of busy schedule.

You’re rather excited; you had purchased a pair of matching shoes and some accessories, namely a white corsage that will go with Leon’s outfit.

Everything’s going as you had planned.

“This is so exciting!” Jace exclaims as he waits beside you, holding a large box that’s carrying a carton of popcorn and a massive drink within. Joltik sits on his shoulder, with some kernels stuck to his fuzzy body and legs. “I didn’t think I’d ever get the chance to actually go in the stadium as a spectator! And we’re watching a match together!!!”

He proceeds to whip out a glittery blue and yellow sign that says “Volkner #1”. He’s not alone, you see a large group of Volkner fans up ahead, chatting loudly and wearing Luxray hats; they can be heard animatedly discussing his strategies and his pokemon. Meanwhile, Leon fans wearing copies of his signature snapback and Charizard hats pass by, holding up signs that says ‘Leon #1’.

“I’m sorry, chuck, but I gotta cheer for Volkner, ya know?” he says.

“It’s fine, I’m going to be cheering for Leon.”

Jace scoffs whilst you crack a grin. “I don’t think we’ve hung out like this before, not for a long time anyway,” he says, before he scratches the back of his head. “…Actually, I have something to tell you.”

“What?”

“Volkner asked me if I wanted to work in his gym. He tried to get me a position a few years ago but I had moved to Galar by then,” he says quietly, and somehow you’re not liking where this conversation is leading.

“Are you leaving, Jace?” you ask.

Jace blinks blankly, before he nods.

“……..Oh,” you squeak out.

The stadium grows quiet.

The screaming fans, the chatter, the music in the background, the flashing videos….

None of those seems to matter to you anymore.

“Chuck?” he nudges you by the shoulder, “don’t worry, I’m not leaving immediately…so cheer up and let’s enjoy the match!”

The doors open and security begin to allow patrons to enter, causing many fans up ahead to scream and shout and the line begins to move quickly.

You breeze through security who checks your bag and you’re allowed in. Inside, fans can be seen running around with their friends and families and pokemon whilst stadium assistants divert lost fans to their seats.

With Jace, you find your block and navigate to your seat; the stadium is already alit with chanting fans and music from the massive TV screen that’s blaring various Macro Cosmos adverts. Very soon, the remainder of the seats soon begin to fill up and you are surrounded by thousands of adoring fans.

Jace swaps seats with the person beside you so you can be seated together and soon, the stadium lights go off and the crowd goes wild as a swirl of lights form on the pitch from the ceiling flicker on and circle wildly before a blond man with a moustache donned in a white and black football jersey arrives, cruising on his Aegislash.

“Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to Wyndon Stadium! My name is Dan and I will be your host today!!!”

The crowd erupts into cheers as he continues to introduce and outline the match before he gestures towards your direction.

“Welcome to the annual Galar-Sinnoh exhibition match! Today, we have Leon, our beloved Champion of Galar, who will be representing Galar’s finest trainers! Tonight, his opponent will be Volkner, who has come all the way from Sunyshore City, representing Sinnoh’s very best!” Dan introduces. “Please put your hands together to give a very warm welcome to Galar’s very best, the one and only….LEON!”

The stadium is booming with cheering and applause as Leon appears; you see his face shown on the TV screen as he strides onto the pitch, waving to the crowd. You can hear lots of high-pitched screaming.

“And now, please welcome the ultra-charismatic, the cool and collected, electrifying VOLKNER!!!!!”

At the opposite end, Volkner appears. He looks calm despite the sheer madness. The boisterous cheers and applause do not stop as the Champion strolls towards the middle of the pitch, ready to meet Volkner. You feel strange towards Volkner now, knowing that he’s offered Jace a job.

You’re happy for Jace, but this means he will be leaving Galar…

“Leon Leon Leon!” chants a row of girls nearer the back, and they break you out of your thoughts; they’re holding massive signs with Leon’s face on it, decorated with little lights and cardboard lovehearts.

“LEON!” someone screams in another block, “LEON, FUCKING MARRY ME! AND HAVE MY FUCKING BABIES!”

“LEEEEEEOOOOOOOONNNNN!” another fan roars, as though they are imitating a slow-motion reel.

You cannot tell if Leon can hear his loyal fans shrieking though he does look up and around with a smile as the camera flashes and the cameras roll from all over.

He offers a little wave and the audience goes wild.

You hold your breath as Leon and Volkner are finally within vicinity of one another, and they shake hands.

They exchange some words which you cannot hear due to being too far away, but when both turn round, Leon spots you in the crowd and grins.

You smile in response and wave.

Dan steers his Aegislash between the two contestants, holding up two flags – one black and one white. With a blow of the whistle, he raises his arms, the flags in the air.

“Match, begin!”

….

It’s time for the party.

The match is over.

Volkner lost.

You leave the stadium, hoping to get the chance to see or speak to Leon but from his forced smile and the slightest drop of his shoulders which he quickly corrects before anyone catches on, you can tell how exhausted he is and as he enters the corridor and out of sight, you see a group of reporters and their camera men trailing after him, shouting and yelling over each other, desperate for post-battle interviews and photos.

Leon is shortly followed by Chairman Rose and Oleana and they’re also surrounded by the paparazzi, but they ignore the group and venture off to where Leon had disappeared.

It’s not the appropriate time to see or speak to him. You will meet him at the party so you and Jace leave the stadium together before splitting up; you have to get ready for the upcoming party now and will find another time to catch up properly.

With Sonia’s help, you leave the house once you’re ready and take a Corviknight taxi to the Rose of the Rondelands where the party is taking place, arriving at reception just in time.

You find your name on the list, sign your name on the book and hand it back to the staff, who in turn, provide you with a black leathery mask.

“What’s this for?” you murmur.

“It’s for all the guests. Optional, of course, but part of the mystery and intrigue,” says the concierge, grinning.

“Cool.”

With the mask in hands, you lift it up and over your eyes, then tie the straps securely over the back of your head.

A set of double doors manned by two smart-looking gentlemen in suits is your next destination and as you approach them, they open the doors for you and you step inside where a large and grandiose hall awaits you.

The interior is simply breathtaking, painted a crisp white and covered with classical antique paintings framed in gold of all shapes and sizes. Crystal chandeliers hang from the ceilings, casting little pearls of glittery light on the rich lush rugs under your feet. You stop to stare, soaking in the view with awe.

The hall is alit with the gentle chatter from the guests within and as you look around, no-one pays attention to your presence. Half of the guests are also wearing their masks, mostly the women. There is no-one here you recognize, mask or not, and you certainly blend in with no qualms.

A live orchestra plays in the corner, an ethereal but seductive melody emitting from their instruments. A few waiters and waitresses weave past you, asking if you are interested in champagne and canapes. You help yourself to several questionable-looking snacks that apparently costs four to five figures per piece and as you chew and swallow, your mouth is alive with unique flavors and tastes you have never experienced before.

It’s simply the best thing you have ever tasted; the food is exquisite.

Begrudgingly, you admit that Rose knows how to take care of guests.

As you ponder where Leon is, you scour for him silently until you spot a very handsome man standing behind the balustrade of the grand staircase at the far end of the hall; it’s none other than Leon and he’s dressed in the red outfit he had shown you the other day with his long hair neatly brushed and tied into a ponytail with a ribbon, a black mask securely fitted over his golden eyes.

You take a moment to admire how ravishing he looks, until he shifts to address a guest and you see an individual to his left; he’s not alone.

Miss Galar stands beside him…

…wearing a red dress.

There are other guests donned in crimson of course, but as you cautiously throw a quick glimpse to yourself, it occurs to you that you are both wearing a dress that are of similar shade. Against your control, you flit your gaze to her again to scrutinize her clothing; her dress is obviously far more expensive and shinier than yours.

You tilt your head to the side, feeling somewhat challenged somehow, and it’s an unfamiliar sensation to you; all in all, you wished she wasn’t wearing red either.

Leon finishes speaking to his group and he averts his gaze to the great hall; his eyes wanders the hall until he spots you looking up at his direction and your gazes meet. He studies you quietly, subjecting you to a sweeping look from head to toe and you hold your breath as the world shifts; everything seems to grind to a stop and time appears to have slowed down. Every individual in the hall dissolves into the background, grouping together into undecipherable blobs and blending with the walls, disappearing one by one, until it’s just you and Leon.

He stares at you for a long time, before he grins.

And he departs from his group, excusing himself politely, though Miss Galar looks like she wants to follow him.

He’s heading towards your direction and your heart flutters with anticipation; you watch as Leon strolls down the stairs, his eyes on you only.

However, the live orchestra crawls to a stop and a bright spotlight suddenly shines on Leon as he reaches the last step, effectively halting him in his tracks. The rest of the lights in the hall also disappear in a split second, bathing you and the remainder of the guests in darkness.

Leon throws his glimpse over his shoulder to see Rose standing at the top of the stairs, dressed in a sleek and shiny black tuxedo.

“Welcome ladies and gentlemen,” he begins, and the conversation dies down and the hall gradually simmers into silence as Rose makes his way down the stairs.

Talk about making a dramatic entrance, you think, as Rose thanks everyone for attending the party and goes on about something you don’t exactly care about.

He has Leon stuck under the spotlight and Leon has no choice but to smile at the guests.

Rose finally joins Leon’s side; they talk for a brief moment about the League, the exhibition match and Galar’s energy plant and some deal they had signed with Sinnoh’s Sunyshore gym. The guests applause and a toast is raised.

With all the formalities over, Roses smiles widely and holds an arm out, “Very good. Now let’s start this wonderful evening with a dance; our beloved Champion and our wonderful Miss Galar.”

Leon grows still; the mask does not cover the acute surprise evidence on his face.

Rose snaps his fingers, the conductor taps his baton and the first violins begin with a vibrant but complicated, fast opening before the rest of the orchestra joins in, playing a romantic waltz.

The guests begin to murmur to one another as Miss Galar smiles and heads for Leon’s direction; she gracefully steps down the stairs and as she appears by his side, Leon looks at you, then at Miss Galar.

She’s waiting.

You slide your gaze to the floor, dejected.

First dance or not, you had hoped you would be the one dancing with Leon, not her.

Miss Galar performs a curtsy, clutching the flimsy material of her dress in hands as she crosses one leg over the other and Leon bows, closing his eyes with one gloved hand on his chest and the other behind his back. He throws one look at Rose, who smiles widely at him in response.

Miss Galar giggles as Leon offers her his arm and they both head to the dancefloor; the crowd dissipates for them to allow them through and once situated in the middle, he slides a hand over her waist and she eagerly slips her hand into his and in tune to the music, they start dancing.

You watch the scene limply from your little spot until a tall man steps in front of you and blocks your view. You make no effort to move to a new place for a better view and head for the tables.

Leon and Miss Galar are soon joined by other guests and the ballroom becomes full with waltzing couples whilst the remaining guests stand, watching.

There is no intention for the waltz to stop anytime soon so you find an empty seat and sit down.

This really wasn’t what you had in mind for the party.

A waiter saunters up to you with a tray of champagne glasses. “Would you like some blanc de noirs, madam?”

“Yes, please,” you utter, even though you have no clue what blanc de noirs actually is, and you help yourself to a flute glass, tipping the rim to your mouth and downing a sip.

It burns the back of your throat but you welcome it and suddenly, a familiar voice says, “May I have this dance?”

You look up to see a familiar blond man before you. He’s dressed in a dark, navy blue suit with a matching gold, paisley pattern tie. “Volkner?”

“Good evening,” he murmurs, before he switches to a more informal tone, “Well. Shall we?”

“I’m not very good at dancing.”

“That’s not a problem for me.”

You smile at him in response as he holds his hand out to you. You debate whether it’s right to be dancing with another man, but it’ll be rude to refuse also so you take his hand and you both head for the dancefloor where the lights are brighter, and the couples are actually dancing faster than you realized.

It’s too late to back down now, as Volkner stands before you, slipping his hand around your waist and holding your other hand with his firmly. He leads and you’re a little stunned at how easily he guides you around the floor beside the other couples. You do your best to step in tune to the music from your practice with Leon, determined not to mess it up.

“I’m sorry about the loss,” you say.

“It’s fine, I’ll just have to try harder next time,” Volkner remarks.

“You were so close; one more move and Charizard would’ve been KO’d.”

“Indeed.”

You aren’t sure whether to mention to him that you’re aware he offered Jace a job but before you can get the chance to mention it, the beat of the music alters slightly and the women begin to twirl.

“Wait, what’s going on-“ you begin, but Volkner helps you spin a circle and back. “Thanks.”

“You’re welcome.”

You’re somehow close to Leon and Miss Galar from the twirling maneuver that shifts you closer to them than you would have anticipated, and Leon notices your presences immediately.

Leon’s eyes widens and in mid-dance, he twists his head round to stare.

“Leon, what’s wrong?” asks Miss Galar, but he doesn’t reply.

Volkner flicks his glance over to the astounded Champion whose gaze is pinned on your form, and smirks.

“What is it?” you ask, oblivious, but when the music changes again, Volkner twirls you in a circle in tune to the music and on this occasion, his hand leaves your waist altogether. He steps backwards and you say, “What’s going on?”

“We’re changing partners.”

And on cue, a young woman in a pale dusty blue dress twirls towards him whilst her partner steps towards your direction.

You weren’t aware of this arrangement and your new temporary partner offers his hand; you have no choice but to participate in this group dance and the music isn’t stopping.

From this, you learn two things – firstly, the women are required to spin twice with their partners before they swap. Obviously you and Volkner joined halfway in which is why you danced for such a short time with him. Second, and that being said, Miss Galar had hogged Leon all to herself for numerous twirls.

Either way, if that was deliberate or not, perhaps they are an exclusive pair or weren’t supposed to change partners or something…you’re not sure but either way, after your third or fourth partner, you see Volkner with his current dance partner making his way up to Leon and Miss Galar and you recognize the buildup of the song that indicates it’s time to twirl and change partner once again, your current partner spins you around and you wonder who your next partner is.

It’s probably that guy with the mousy brown hair who has started to eye you up from the side – but you’re finally free as your partner lets go, slides away and someone grasps your hand gently and a grip settles on your waist; you’re twirled round and into someone’s arms but this time, your partner curls his hand around you in a rather intimate manner which neither of your previous dance partners had done before and he pulls you close and against his chest, your faces millimetres away.

Looking up, your eyes widen when you realise who it is.

“Leon!” you exclaim, your lips spreading into a wide smile.

The Champion answers you with a wink.

From the corner of your eye, you see a rather confused Miss Galar being grabbed by Volkner before he spins her into his arms.

The music starts up once more and with your hand tightly with his, Leon guides you around the dancefloor; your heart speeds up and you cannot stop smiling. His gaze never leaves you. This must be a dream, but an affectionate squeeze on your waist tells you otherwise.

Up ahead, and there is a rather wide opening within the circle of observers. Leon’s brows quirk up and he nudges his head to the opening which you spot as well. And as you turn, he expertly whisks you away from the rest of the dancers and into the crowd.

They are too busy to notice so you both slip unnoticed and Leon relinquishes his hold on your waist, your hands looped tightly together.

Away from the maddening crowd, you and Leon make your way out of the great hall and towards the large set of double doors that are now unmanned.

They lead to the garden and you both slip outside into the night, grinning widely; the Rondeland's garden is equally impressive as the great hall, with a huge stretch of grassy land filled with multicoloured flowers, lit up by lanterns strategically placed from one another to provide a dimly lit setting.

A large but impressive, neatly-trimmed hedge maze and a massive fountain stands in front of the steps where Goldeens and Seakings made out of stone leap and frolic in the air, water bubbling out from their mouths. The gurgling flow of rushing fresh water is accompanied with the vibrant buzzing of several wild bug pokemon that flutter past.

Stopping in front of the fountain, you’re panting as you both turn to each other; your eyes meet for a second time and Leon’s grin widens as you proceed to lunge towards him, pouncing onto his chest and throwing your arms around his shoulders.

He bundles you up immediately, pressing you hard against his chest as he comfortably encircles his arms around your waist and buries his nose into your neck. You laugh as his hair tickles the curve of your cheek and Leon picks you up and off the ground an inch or so to spin you around in a small circle before settling you back onto your feet.

He's grinning widely from ear to ear, looking at you up and down and soaking in the sight.

"You look lovely," he murmurs.

"Thank you," you reply shyly, your cheeks feeling warm as you reach up to fiddle with the hem of his white cravat absent-mindedly. He watches your actions with interest as you utter, "And you look very dashing tonight, sir Champion. You really suit the colour red."

Leon chuckles as you silently preen him and gently sweep away some of his long hair. You dust and brush your hands over his broad shoulders before you run your fingertips over the impressive black lining and stitches of his coat and the gold buttons.

Before you pull away, he catches your hand with his, lifting your knuckles to his lips and pressing a gentle kiss over your skin. You blush heavily in response as he nudges his head towards the garden with a smile.

"Shall we go for a walk?"

With a nod, you're both grinning widely as you loop your arms together and proceed to walk down the steps and towards the fountain.

"What if someone notices you're missing?"

The music from the grand hall is growing fainter as you stroll further into the garden with the Champion by your side but it doesn't appear to be stopping anytime soon.

Therefore, Leon shakes his head and says, "No, they'll be dancing for another hour or so."

"What if someone sees us?"

"Then I'll introduce you," he replies. "Did you find anything else about Gossamer Cave?"

"Unfortunately, no. I went to find Ezra this morning but he'd gone to work on a case."

”I was thinking,” Leon says, “you said you saw a shiny Lucario in the cave.”

”Yeah.”

”Lucario are known as the aura Pokemon. They also hold powers no ordinary humans possess. Do you think that’s what Ezra could have meant?”

You pause slightly, before turning to him with a smile. “Leon!” you utter, “what a brilliant observation.”

He blushes, cheeks growing red. “Ah, well... I wanted to help so I looked up as much information as I could find for you.”

“Thank you.”

You're halfway through the garden, venturing down the path which is lined with professionally-clipped hedges fashioned into Roselias and Roserades and you arrive at a small clearing with a pond and you leave Leon's side to hop onto a rock and despite your high heels, you carefully step over them, maintaining your balance by holding your arms out. A Goldeen and Barboach lurking within the murky depths look up at you for a split second or so before quickly zipping away from the surface to hide within some tall reeds, leaving behind shimmering ripples in the water under the moonlight.

Leon promptly comes scurrying after you with his arms out. "Be careful," he says as he grabs your hand; you neatly finish one lap and hop off and into his awaiting arms with a grin.

He gives you a lopsided smile in return and you're suddenly aware of how close you are standing together and he hasn't looked away from you.

"I missed you," you murmur.

"Me too," he replies.

He holds your gaze and you daren't look away; his honeyed eyes pinned onto your form. It's quiet now, the faint music emitting from the hall has slowly ebbed away into nothingness as you and Leon stand close and all you can hear is your beating heart. He takes one step closer and gently cups your face with one hand; he begins to lean forwards, his eyes closing.

You allow your eyes to close in anticipation of a kiss. Yet before your lips can meet, a tiny crystal blue light gently bobs its way into the little gap between you and the Champion, hovering up and down in the air playfully. It's unwarranted presence causes you both to stop as it's soon joined by other little lights of various shades, twinkling in the dark in beautiful colours of red, pink, yellow and green and as you and Leon glance around, more and more of the lights appear. In seconds, you are surrounded and illuminated by the small lights that have seemingly appeared from nowhere.

"...Aren’t these the same lights we saw in the Slumbering Weald?" Leon utters.

As you peer at the little blobs inquisitively, you nod and lift your arm with your palm out, allowing a small cluster to float over and settle in the base of your hand, illuminating the base of your chin with an iridescent, warm glow.

"They are. I wonder what they're doing here?" you reply, smiling as you prod at the orbs with a fingertip.

It sends them flying into numerous directions before they gently float backwards and towards you; they continue to swarm, bathing you and Leon with their ethereal light.

"They're attracted to you," Leon says.

”...Maybe I got it wrong, maybe they’re not just fairy lights, but...aura?” you mutter under your breath.

Whilst you ponder the true nature of the lights, Leon watches you for a brief moment before he leans forwards and presses a gentle kiss over your forehead. You stiffen slightly, as he proceeds to tuck a stray strand of hair from the side of your face to behind your ear. Your heartbeat soars, and you look up as the side of his palm brushes against your cheek.

”Leon?”

"I never told you how beautiful you looked that night," he murmurs, and you smile.

With his hand over your cheek to keep you in place, Leon brings you forwards and leans down to meet your lips in a passionate kiss.

...

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sereisstuff · 4 years

Text

𝒮𝓉𝒶𝓎 𝓌𝒾𝓉𝒽 𝓂𝑒 K.T

~ 𝐓𝐚𝐞𝐡𝐲𝐮𝐧𝐠𝐬 𝐥𝐨𝐧𝐞𝐥𝐲 𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐬𝐚𝐤𝐞𝐧 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐟𝐢𝐧𝐝𝐬 𝐢𝐭’𝐬 𝐬𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐧𝐢𝐭𝐲 𝐰𝐡𝐞𝐧 𝐲𝐨𝐮, 𝐚 𝐜𝐚𝐫𝐞𝐟𝐫𝐞𝐞 𝐠𝐢𝐫𝐥 𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐜𝐡𝐞𝐬 𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐨 𝐚 𝐛𝐫𝐨𝐤𝐞𝐧 𝐥𝐚𝐯𝐚𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐲 𝐢𝐧 𝐡𝐨𝐩𝐞𝐬 𝐨𝐟 𝐞𝐬𝐜𝐚𝐩𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐞𝐦𝐛𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐮𝐩𝐩𝐞𝐫-𝐜𝐥𝐚𝐬𝐬𝐦𝐞𝐧 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐚 𝐦𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭.

~ 𝐂𝐨𝐧𝐬𝐢𝐬𝐭 - 𝐅𝐥𝐢𝐫𝐭𝐲!𝐓𝐚𝐞, 𝐬𝐮𝐛𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐧𝐜𝐞. 𝐇𝐮𝐦𝐨𝐮𝐫, 𝐞𝐝𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐝𝐢𝐚𝐧 𝐚𝐠𝐞𝐬 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐚𝐧 𝐚𝐧𝐱𝐢𝐨𝐮𝐬!𝐓𝐚𝐞.

“Would you excuse me, please” you politely ask feeling the fabric of your wrongly fitted corset dig into your bone creating an immense amount of pain, the party you were forcibly made to attend was growing rather boring must you admit with possibly false accusations, it was filled to the brim with royals and upper-class men and women who’d never thought a day to humble themselves.

“Now hang on a moment, I’d forgot to mention my son” she continued, searching around for her son who’d also left the party as you were about to do so amidst her distraction, quickly leaving before her attention could be held against you once more leaving no room for her bitter argument as you rushed off to the lavatory.

Your sore feet curled in pain as you were a few feet away from the lavatory, your rush gained the attention of many ridiculing gazes to whom hissed in displeasure seeing such an un-womanly act come forth in a public place, rolling your eyes as you held back from flipping them off with the snap of your tongue.

Grabbing the handle with a slight bit of struggle, jiggling it around for a mere moment until it came undone and then you continued to shove it open, slamming it shut with a following sigh of enjoyment “finally” you sighed as you smile to yourself, sliding down the door slightly.

The clink of glass brought your attention back to its dim reality, snapping your eyes wide open seeing a man around his early twenties, dressed in upper-class society clothing, sitting amongst the sink with a wine glass slipped between his bony fingers, giving you a chuckle.

You apologized quickly, turning around to shove the door open as he watched intensively with a held back laugh, fixing his positing as he ran a hand through his thick locks of loose curls, you gripped the handle ever so tightly using all your might and will in hopes the door will shove open and release you from such awkward tension.

Wanting nothing more now to feel the brisk touch of alcoholic beverages and the noise of obnoxious laughter to fill your agitated ears.

“If you feel so obligated to open the door a minute of your time is needed that door rarely opens for some unknown reason, so you should probably stop wasting your energy, beautiful” his deep melodious voice played courses through your mind sending a shiver up your spine, slowly releasing the tense hold you held on the door.

Turning around as you leaned against the door, closing your eyes in agony as the man let out a hearty chuckle “Here, have one” you looked up to meet his sharp eyes and your breath halted to an unbreakable stop, he was the epitome of beauty, the representative of the concept, sharp like eyes yet they held a soft tone to them as his gaze was painstakingly exquisite, his sharp jaw and plump pink lips that glistened under the candlelit light.

His soft hands holding the wine bottle out for you to reach as you watched a bright boxy smile stretch on his face, you took the bottle shaking your gaze away from him looking everywhere else but his face, feeling the rush of your heart press against your chest.

You took a long swing from it, gulping it down feeling the burn of the alcoholic beverage sliding down your moist throat wanting to forget the embarrassing moment that played out like a cliche “better” he seemed eager for your reply, leaning some of his weight on his lifted knee as he grabbed the drink from your hand, taking a drink himself.

Throwing his head back as his Adam’s apple bobbed up and down “much better” you giggled, finally relaxing on the frail door, moving around your corset feeling the pain of the tight-knit garment pull at your skin, groaning in agony.

“Kim Taehyung and you are” he leaned over, his hand out prepared for a handshake as you shakily took it in your own, the bitter taste of the alcohol resurfaced once you meet eyes again cursing your insides for consuming your attention in his honeycomb pools “ah, um” you forgot to mention your name gulping down your shivering intentions, Taehyung lifted his head his own heart beating hurriedly as he gazed at your oblivious self.

“Unless you’d prefer beautiful to which I would gladly call you” he flirted, you shook your head releasing a stuttering reply “m-my n-name is y/n” he nodded in understanding as a blush crept on your chubby cheeks, you were never so entranced by such a person before, he was what some may call a walking form of art beholding itself upon your eyes.

“Y/n”

“Boring isn’t it” he mentioned, shuffling his position into a slight man spread with his palms straightened at the elbow holding all his weight up looking down at you “much more than boring, plus with the added on friction of my stupid corset, it’s just great” Taehyung laughed deeply although it wasn’t as comedic as you hoped it brought a smile to you flushed face.

“What’s your excuse” you raised your brow suspiciously as he fell deeply in thought before groaning “Not much to it, people aren’t my forte if I must and this party is quite displeasing I knew I would find something fun in a place unexpected” he giggled taking another long gulp of the drink gesturing for you to take another, you had nothing to lose in a lavatory so you did so.

“Ah, so I’m the life of the party now” you announced, standing up on your bare feet as you kicked the heels off, Taehyung felt a heavyweight lift from his shoulders seeing how carefree you were becoming in a mere second, not many people he met these days had an aura such as yours.

You must have forgotten that you were a lightweight too.

When you wobbly stood up with a small tumble “Woah” you laughed when you nearly fell face-first on to the wooden floor, standing in dancing position your wide bloodshot eyes contacted his own, looking down at the spot for him to be in “would you take a moment out of your precious, dedicated time to dance with me, mister Kim taehyung” he let out a breathy laugh, the grip he had on the bottle released once he placed it down on the basin, lifting himself forth from the sink to stand straight.

“I would love too” he slid his hands in your own the soft flesh embracing your cold hand as the other slid down to rest against your hip, you initiated the first step, stepping on his perfectly polished shoe, rushing to cover your mouth with a dramatic gasp as you sluggishly held his hand again, his hand slipped further down unconsciously making you yelp.

“Sorry” he muttered awkwardly to which you just throatily laughed.

For a second taehyung felt seen, the way you gazed carelessly into his pools of ethereal honey made his heart feel euphoric, treating him like a person as he was rather than status or position, you stood barefoot before him, lipstick slightly smeared from the aggressive sips you downed from the wine yet you couldn’t care less how you appealed to him, although he shouldn’t have he felt fascinated.

You tilted your head with a pout before lightly kicking his shin “this isn’t a staring competition, come on, dance” and he did, he obliged without a question letting you control his every move as you counted your steps cutely, some of you still sober and unphased prior to the inner war you were fighting once meeting him you really felt as if that shouldn’t matter.

Taehyung looked down at you, holding you a bit closer and softer then he was known for “you’re a terrible dancer” you mutter clueless under your breath, the slow rhythm just entering the room continued, the small sound of the violin was barely audible through the doors but you still could grasp a few steps to match it.

“Am I now” he giggled, licking his lips as he intensively watched every cute mistake you made “if your so good, show me”

“Fine then, I will, like this” you pulled him closer, he let out a shocked sound feeling you place his large hands on your shoulders, putting your own on his hips as you controlled his movements “1, 2 and 3, 4” you began to smile as he stumbled a few times.

“1, 2, 3 and 4” he muttered nodding his head with every step, paying close attention to the small detail, you looked up to him “yes, you got it”

You looked up to praise him as he looked down with a bright boxy smile only for your smiles to be wiped clean, gazing into his eyes with curiosity, searching for something you couldn’t piece together a man who’d barely entered your life causing you to breathe unevenly, maybe he was fated to be a one night stand an this was the leading point to euphoria.

He leaned down, his lips caressing yours briefly as he stared into your eyes letting your hands lay loosely on his shoulders, feeling yourself begin to sweat profusely as you sat deep in thought.

This happened all too fast, glancing further into his caring eyes as he furrowed his brows letting the emitting light seep further down into his gaze the flicker of the lights created a serene moment for you both.

“I want you to stay”

“What” you whispered under your breath still not having the courage to pull yourself away from his gaze, hoping you heard him right as he repeated himself “with me, just for one night” he needed you to stay, with every fiber of his lonely being he wanted you to stay just to feel your presence cover his aching soul with happiness just for one moment, and he wouldn’t ask of anything more.

“Please don’t say no” he begged and you agreed, preferring his desirable presence over your own companions “O-okay” you replied, voice cracking towards the end, heart beating so fast you could barely grasp a pulse, a rush of velvet blushed your face and he loved the reaction.

And with that agreement, his lonely heart cracked under your serenity.

#kim taehyung #kim taehyung scenarios #kim taehyung imagines #kim taehyung x reader #kim taehyung x chubby reader #kim taehyung x oc #kim taehyung x you #taehyung imagine #taehyung x you #taehyung x reader #taehyung x oc #taehyung x chubby reader #taehyung x chubby!reader #chubby!reader #Plus Size #bts scenarios #bts x chubby reader #bts imagines

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zwiezraczek · 4 years

Text

Love The Way You Lie [Blurb]

8. “Why are you doing this to me?” 11. “You're driving me crazy, you know that?” 20. “I think I just found somebody to love.”

Warnings: unhealthy relationship, violence mentionned

Inspired by Love The Way You Lie - Eminem

~~~

You gulped the bottle, laughing, feeling the alcohol pulsing through your veins as the music grew louder and louder. Mutants clubs, the best clubs. But what was even more beautiful in all of this, was the illegal part: mutants were indeed illegal, their clubs? Illegal. Their existence? Illegal. Their games? Illegal. And this was why you loved to stay there, with your bestfriend, dancing until your feet hurt and your head filled with alcohol and dirty thoughts, until your hands slid under somebody's t-shirt, until you could feel alive, again.

And as the lights flickered above your head, you noticed them. These majestic white wings in the darkness, surrounded by various persons, dancing girls next to them, lazily brushing against them and the man owning them. His beautiful and mesmerizing eyes. He had a drink in his hand, a girl in the other, sitting on his lap, giggling and smiling as she touched the angelic curls on his head. But his eyes were looking at you right now, and the only thing you could think about was him. Only him.

Lust danced between you, as you swayed your way through the crowd to find yourself in front of him, before he could have a better look at you. You were sparkling, seductive, a temptress. And he looked like a fallen angel, with his burning eyes and his white wings. He had toyed enough with the girl on his lap, and asked her to leave, and so she did, not pleased to see you being his new center of attention.

“I think I just found somebody to love,” he declared, after drinking a sip of his beer. His eyes devouring you with one glance from above.

“You sure pretty boy,” you asked, while smirking, “I'm pretty handful to be with. Not sure you could handle me...”

“Let's find out, doll.” With a gesture of his hand, he invited you on his lap, and you couldn't refuse. And as you sat up there, he began to kiss your neck, roughly, lustily, with passion. His skin pressed against yours, as you gasped from time to time. “See? I'm doing great.”

“I'm not so sure,” you moaned as he licked your collarbone, your hand softly toying with his t-shirt. “I've seen bett... Oh my god,” you exhaled as he made you feel alright, just by kissing your neck.

“Maybe better than you thought, doll.” His expert hands wandered all around your body, his wings wrapping around both of you, your moans only for his ears, nobody else.

“You're driving me fucking crazy,” you panted, looking at him with a sparkle in your eyes. He probably was the one.

“So do you, doll.”

~~~

You became what some could call lovers, what others could call sex friends, but whatever you had was a game. The game to know which one of you could drag the other towards the edge, the edge of common sense and the edge of sanity. Aggressiveness rising as you kissed that boy, his body pressed against yours and his hands moving gently on your hips, your rage exploding when a girl's tongue wandered on his collarbone, him holding her close and marking her neck. Always eyes on each other, to see which one would break the first. There was no pattern, but everything always ended in a fight. Either you going out, yelling names at him, waiting in the apartment you shared and breaking glasses while he came back, crying, raging and telling him to fuck off, either him going absolutely batshit, trying almost to kill the guy being with you, pining you up against the wall as you looked at him with your provocative eyes.

“Why are you doing this to me,” he asked, your jaw in his right hand. It hurt, it absolutely hurt how much his fingers were into your skin as he held your face to force you to look at him.“Answer, bitch!”

“Because you agreed, motherfucker,” you would reply, scents of alcohol in your voice as many as in his own. You'd go through the pain, as always, he'd apologize, you'd apologize.

“Don't you fucking toy with me, you're mine,” he would exclaim, the attention suddenly driven towards the two of you, his wings sharpening at their ends, you could hear their hissing. You knew these could make you bleed, and they did and not only once. But you made them bleed too, not once, with some broken glass.

“I'm not a pet of yours, Warren,” you whispered, confident as you felt that breathing became difficult. You smiled nevertheless.

“But you are fucking mine, either you want it or no, and I'll fucking kill whoever tries to fuck around with you. You heard that,” you couldn't tell if he was speaking to you, or to the guys gathered around you as he let you go. Your jaw hurt, it would leave some bruises in the morning. But who cared? You won the game tonight, you won this round and that was all that matter.

“So how about showing me I'm all yours then, Warren Worthington the Third,” your cooed, looking at him. Your makeup was flawed, tears which ran on your face when he chocked you made you look like a small hurt panda, but you were lust on legs to him, with that face or without.

“You're driving me crazy doll, you really do,” he whispered, his hand against the wall, just right to your ear. His wings softened a bit, you touched them, carelessly because you knew how much it helped him to relax, to be turned on.

You were sure of one thing during that night: you won the most outrageous and passionate night, only to yourself. With Warren, a man capable of making you scream for any reason.

~~~

His burning rage met your limits on that night. You spat on his face, as he grabbed your arm telling you that you had to stay there, he punched a hole in the wall next to your head. You felt scared, but also impressed. But you told him that you were leaving, for whatever reason, and as you slammed the door you heard him screaming, hitting the door endlessly. But letting you go. You stood there, in the hallway, hearing him burn. You heardshattering of glass, how many glasses you broke together while in this sick relationship? You had your head between your fingers, crying. You felt helpless. You loved him, he loved you, this sick game of yours was the best thing that could have happened to you both. But that was consuming you, destroying sometimes. But you loved it the way it was.

As you sat in the dark corridor, after a dozen of minutes, you heard the door open. You saw light, and him. His wings struggling to pass through the door as always, looking like an angel in the moonlight, only shorts on and his torso on display. He offered you his hand, eyes tired and puffy from crying too. You knew everything was hurting you, you knew he was hurt, you knew you were hurting you, but this weird exchange of energy suited youboth. You took his hand, and entered the apartment, watching out to not step on some glass.

“Doll it wasn't you, it was me,” he assured, stroking your hair as you laid your head on his lap, slowly not sobbing anymore. “And maybe our relationship isn't as crazy at it seems...”

“It's fucking us,” you corrected him, rising your eyes on him. “We're driving each other crazy for nothing, watching ourselves burn as we push each other's buttons...”

“This is what happens when a tornado meets a volcano, doll,” he delicately whispered, looking at you. “I can barely breathe when I'm not with you, doll. I can't fucking get you out my mind, you know that doll?” You nodded, feeling exactly the same. “So don't move doll, and close your eyes.”

You rose, looking at him in confusion. This wasn't Warren at all, it wasn't how he worked. He urged you to close your eyes before leaving you, alone, on the couch, hands covering your eyes. You heard him walking carefully to not make his feet bleed on the glass he broke earlier, before he opened a drawer and closed it. Curiosity shook your whole body as you heard him being close, the sound of his wings right next to you, their soft touch brushing your bare shoulders.

“Open your eyes doll.”

And he knelt in front of you, looking at your tired and puffy face from crying. A small box, with a ring in his hands.

“All I know is that I love you too much to leave you walk away from me, doll. All I know is that rage takes us over sometimes, controls us, but I also know that we love each other.”

“Yes,” you replied before he could ask you anything. “Warren yes.”

“Let me finish,” he said, looking at you with these glistening eyes. “I love you, y/n, and I want to marry you; with or without these little game of ours I don't fucking care, I just wantto be with you, doll.”

“Yes Warren, I agree, I love you too,” you kissed his forehead gently, your hand caressing his wings first, and then his cheek. “I'd be honored to become Mrs. Worthington.”

#because tumblr thinks i'm not a real person i post it again to show up in the tags 🙃#again i hope you like it nonnie!!! 💕#ben hardy #warren worthington imagine #warren worthington x you #warren worthington x reader #warren worthington the third #warren worthington iii #x men apocalypse #ben hardy x men #ben hardy imagine #ben hardy blurbs #blurb #yay it worked

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spaceskam · 5 years

Text

inspired by a fic that i cannot find and therefore i feel I hallucinated. also apparently ballsy enough to post this when notifications are in hell

Summary: Different things that happen within the year after Max died.

warning: a lot of sad. happy ending though

ao3

Alex left Roswell two days after Max died.

“Please, please don’t leave,” Michael had begged him, “We need you. Maria and Liz–they need you. I need you.”

Alex had grabbed his cheeks and smiled all sad and beautiful. He’d kissed him and it felt like a goodbye. Michael didn’t try to stop the sob that cracked through his chest and left him aching.

“Is it because I kissed Maria? It wasn’t anything, I swear, I was just–”

“Michael,” Alex said softly, but stern. Michael whimpered at the sound of his name, rolling his forehead against Alex’s collarbone. “This is something I have to do to keep you and your family safe. I’m not angry at you.”

“I don’t want to be safe without you,” Michael whispered, crying harder and clutching tighter.

“You don’t mean that.”

“Alex,” Michael whined one last time, “I need you to stay with me. I can’t do this without you.”

“I’ll come home, I promise.”

“When?”

Alex didn’t give him an answer.

Isobel left Roswell one week after Max died.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” Michael yelled, glaring with a level of anger he’d never been able to find for Isobel before.

“I need to get out of this hell hole, Michael!” she screamed back, face red with rage.

“Max is fucking dead! You’re just going to leave me to pick up the fucking pieces?! You’re not going to help?!” Michael followed her out to her car, still shouting at her regardless of what sort of scene they might’ve been causing. Fuck this. Absolutely fuck it.

“My husband was an abusive serial killer and my brother is dead! I need to get away from it!” she told him, slamming the door to the backseat.

“Are you gonna come back and help me?! Are you expecting me to just fucking fix shit?!”

“This isn’t about you, Michael!” she spat, shaking her head, “I’ll come back eventually, I need to get away from this!”

“When are you coming back then, huh?! When are you going to help?!”

“I don’t know!”

She drove off without saying goodbye.

Maria separated herself two weeks after Max died.

“Maria, forget about me and everything, Liz needs you right now.”

“And where was she when I needed her?”

Michael gulped and bowed his head. His hands were shaking, desperate to hold onto someone that he still could. Maria couldn’t run away from Roswell like the rest. He thought that meant he had a chance to try. Yet, even she was done.

“She’s sorry about that, we both are,” Michael insisted, “We’re sorry about everything.”

“You all lied to me about everything, Guerin, for decades,” she said. It wasn’t even bitchy, so he couldn’t even find the right words to defend himself. And, when he tried, she didn’t even let him get past opening his mouth. “Withholding the truth is the same as lying when it comes to this.”

“I know,” he sighed, slumping down further, “It’s just, Liz needs someone.”

“And she has you,” Maria said. When he got up the courage to look at her, he tried to look even more pathetic than he felt. He already felt pretty pathetic.

“You really gonna cut us off completely?”

Maria held her head up high.

“I have to do what’s right for me.”

She kept her word.

Kyle… tried.

“I can, uh, bring that heart monitor over when I get off, but I get off at five in the morning,” Kyle said, his voice muffled. There was something horrifically annoying about a man who worked 80 hours a week.

“Nah, it’s whatever,” Michael grumbled, shuffling the grocery bags from one hand to the other as he tried to make sure he had what he needed. He and Liz were pulling an allnighter in the cave again. “It’s not like we’re doing anything important or anything.”

“Hey, I’m trying,” Kyle argued. Which, he was. But trying was hearing from him maybe once a week. “Also, I’m flying out to search shit with Alex on my day off this weekend, I’ll let you know if we find anything.”

“You still talk to Alex?” Michael asked, feeling his heart ache all over again.

“Yeah, dude.”

“Cool, glad the resurrection of my brother is less important than anything else.”

“It wouldn’t be if he wasn’t such a jackass.”

Kyle kept in touch when he could. He helped when he could. It just wasn’t enough.

Liz showed up at the airstream at three AM two months after Max died.

“Mikey?”

Michael opened his eyes and looked up to the crying girl that had come to him in the middle of the night. It wasn’t too out of the ordinary for them to spend nights together, usually falling asleep in bunkers or labs after going 48 hours on nothing but energy drinks. They no longer had anyone to police them, leaving it to just be them two against the world.

Only, tonight was a little different.

Liz hadn’t cried since Max died. He wasn’t sure if it was denial or anger or what, but he’d liked that she was the only one who hadn’t fled. He didn’t like seeing her cry though, so he opened his arms and let her crawl up against him. It only made sense when she told him she was pregnant.

Michael considered breaking down then, considered screaming and cursing a God he didn’t believe in about why the hell they were being thrown another fucking curveball. Why, after everything, was this happening to them? He wanted to let himself break.

However, crying hadn’t made Alex stay. Anger hadn’t made Isobel come home. Guilt-tripping didn’t make Maria stick around. Being passive-aggressive didn’t make Kyle help. None of those would work now.

Instead, he chose to be strong. That seemed like the only option left. Nothing else worked and, at this point, they were all they had. So Michael didn’t cry. He held her close and stroked her hair and promised her that they would figure it out. They had this.

Michael held her as she cried and he held her when she slept. He held her when she profusely apologized for being so dramatic and he held her for a little while longer after that. They didn’t really budge for at least 24 hours. It was the most either of them had slept in months.

“Have you thought about what you want to do?” Michael asked her at some point the following night. It was so dark he couldn’t see her face, but he could feel her breathing against his shoulder.

“I’m weighing my options,” Liz admitted, her voice softer than it had ever been before. “On one hand, this is the actual worst time to have a baby. On the other hand, it… it’s Max’s. It’s what I have of Max. It feels wrong to terminate given the circumstances. And, and I know he’d be so, so angry when he woke up.”

“Yeah, he probably would be,” Micahel agreed. He tried to steer away from politics when it came to Max, but he could assume the way he felt about that.

“But then I remembered it’s my fucking body,” Liz said in a way that sounded a lot more Liz than she had since she came to him the night prior. He smiled.

“Also very true.”

“And then I’m left with the thought that I have no idea what the difference between a human embryo and an alien embryo looks like. What if it’s noticeably different? What if I go to get an abortion and they get freaked out and then I get turned into a science experiment?” Liz rambled quietly. He rubbed her arm and tried not to think about how terrifying that was. It would be scary at any point in time, but it was particularly scary when she was the only thing keeping him alive.

“We could get Kyle to do an ultrasound,” Michael suggested, “See if the difference is. And you’re, what, eight weeks along? You have a little bit of time to decide.”

“Yeah,” Liz sighed, nodding her head, “I just know I can’t give it up for adoption. I can’t put another child who might have powers, might not, into a situation like that.” Michael didn’t say ‘thank you’ but he thought about it.

“Whatever you do decide on, I’m here. I’m not going anywhere.”

“Thank you, Mikey.”

Liz decided to go through with it three months after Max died.

Michael watched her like a hawk.

Kyle did what he could to watch her, but it was mostly Michael. His focus pretty quickly shifted from reviving Max to making sure Liz was okay. As she crossed over into her second trimester, things began to get a little more worrisome. While the baby looked like a normal fetus and seemed to be growing like one, it was affecting Liz worse than it should’ve.

Normal pregnancy cravings became something intolerable. She couldn’t ever figure out what she wanted so badly and Michael had it in the back of his head that maybe it was nothing she could find on Earth. For a week or two, she became really attracted to the smell of acetone and Michael almost had a heart attack. The cravings would bother her, distract her, and some days she would sit in the corner of the bunker and just cry her frustrations out. Neither of them got much done on those days.

Even then, that felt like the easy part. She would get dizzy multiple times a day and she would get sick even more than that. While they tried to convince themselves it was normal, there was still the fact that it never seemed to stop. Worst of all, it was paired with pains. Liz had originally compared them to period cramps, but they progressively got more and more vicious with time. Some days she couldn’t get out of bed. At some point, she was unable to get out of bed anymore at all.

Michael moved in with her at that stage of things. They got a tiny one-bedroom apartment and slept in the same bed. She would wake him when she needed him and he never minded. She was what he had left and she was ill. He was going to do what she needed.

Each day, she looked worse. She stopped gaining any weight once she hit her third trimester, rather appearing to almost lose it instead. Her face was pale and she would sweat all day and night, consumed with hot flashes that left her a shaking and sweating mess. She was weak and she was in pain and she was hardly even Liz anymore.

“We need to do something,” Michael said, his voice leaving no room for argument. Kyle was coming by to do his weekly checkup and even he was struggling to hide his worry on how bad she was doing. “This isn’t okay, this is going to kill her.”

When Kyle didn’t deny that, it made things ungodly worse.

“What is making her sick, Kyle? What do we need to do?” Michael demanded, “Is the baby even still alive? Is it, like, infecting her or something?”

“Michael, I don’t know what-”

“Well, you need to know!” he snapped, “Liz needs to survive. You’re going to figure out what is happening and if you can’t, then I’m risking bringing her to an actual fucking doctor.”

He went back into the room to find Liz already asleep, her face almost as white as the sheets. It made him feel sick. He crawled up behind her and pulled her hair away from her neck and face, balling it up at the top of her head. He laid with her and tried his best to will her survival into existence.

At this point in time, he had decided he didn’t need anyone but Liz to survive. She was the only one that wasn’t going to leave and he wasn’t going to leave her. And that meant making sure she was okay.

Kyle returned a few days later and said a C-section was the best option.

Ileana Paloma Rosa Ortecho-Evans was born seven and a half months after Max died.

She was tiny.

Michael didn’t really know how to process just how tiny she was. She was the perfect size to fit in his palms and that’s all that was needed. He felt almost unworthy to hold her. Yet, he was the first one outside of Kyle who was allowed to.

He had looked her over extensively and, somehow, she was fine. He’d explained that usually babies born that early had issues breathing at the least, especially when they were that small, but she seemed to be fine. Because they didn’t want any other doctor or nurse looking at her too hard just in case, he gave Michael the assignment to watch her and alert him if he noticed any issues at all. He took it like it was the most important job in the world. And, honestly, it was.

She fit in the crook of his arm perfectly‒it helped that she wasn’t even the length of his forearm. He moved slowly back into the hospital room where Liz was still sound asleep. Already, she looked better. Color was coming back to her cheeks. Arturto sat beside her.

“I bet she’s excited to go back to work once she heals,” Artutro said. He didn’t ask to see the baby and Michael wondered if it was because he was just so focused on making sure his baby was alright.

“Yeah,” Michael confirmed, “She is.”

“And you’re going to help her?” he asked.

“Absolutely,” Michael said without hesitation, gulping softly as the baby in his arm wrapped her hand around his finger. She held on tight. “I’m not going anywhere, I swear.” He wasn’t like everyone else.

Arturo nodded and kissed the back of Liz’ hand. “Thank you.”

When Liz woke up and got the first glimpse at her daughter, they both smiled for the first time in a long time. She was still weak from her surgery, but she managed to sit up a little and he sat beside her as she held her baby. It looked right.

“She’s so little,” Liz gushed, sniffling as tears brimmed her eyes. It didn’t even phase Michael anymore. He’d seen her cry so many times now that it was almost just apart of things.

“I know,” Michael said, smiling over her shoulder at Iliana. Her head was a little big and her eyes were even bigger and her skin wasn’t exactly a pleasing color, but, fuck, she was theirs. He couldn’t call her cute, but it took no time to fall in love with her.

Liz leaned into him and relaxed, breathing slow and steady. They both just stared at her for awhile. She was hard not to look at. All Liz’s suffering had ended in a person. It seemed unreal. Well, then again, everything in the last few months had seemed unreal.

“I wish Max was here,” Liz whispered to him a little bit later. Michael chewed on his lip.

“I know,” he said. What he didn’t say was ‘I do too’ or ‘I wish Alex was here’ or ‘I wonder if Isobel would want to meet her niece’ or ‘do you think Maria knows you had a baby?’ because none of those felt like comforting statements. They weren’t comforting statements. They were the ones he thought about non-stop though.

His body ached for the people he’d lost, but he hoped one day he wouldn’t care anymore.

Days passed, though, and things just went back to the way they were. Well, not really. They had a baby now. Iliana slept in a bassinet less than a foot away from Liz’s side of the bed, perfect reaching distance for her even on the nights that Michael was on baby duty.

Occasionally, Michael would lay in bed and wonder if he was doing the right thing. That dark little voice in his head said that he was too happy on some days and that he had forgotten about Max and that he had merely stepped into his shoes. However, then he’d look over to Liz’s determined face and he’d feel like he was going to be alright. Liz was his lifeline.

And, with time, Liz got back to her old self. She was walking around and holding conversations and outsmarting him. It felt like she’d finally come home and he couldn’t have been more thankful. Kyle slowly began to withdraw again once he was no longer needed, but it was alright. They had each other and a baby to focus on.

They were too busy with working and adjusting to parenthood that they couldn’t focus on reviving Max, but, somehow, they were remembering how to be happy.

“Ay dios mio, Mikey, look at that face, she is mean-mugging you,” Liz said as she held the month old baby while Michael shook up her bottle. He laughed at the little glare on her face that seemed to resemble the Ortecho sisters more and more each day, pressing a kiss to her head before handing Liz the bottle.

“You’re going back to work tomorrow,” he pointed out, watching her features morph into a broad smile, “You excited?”

“Listen, I love this, I love her, and I love spending all my time with you,” Liz promised, following it up with a sigh, “But I am so ready. Even if it is just imaging at the hospital, I’m here for it. I need something to do. Also I’m tired of living off a mechanics salary, no offense.”

Michael snorted, “None taken.”

“And you,” Liz prodded, kicking him lightly, “How are you?”

“I’m good.”

“Are you?” she asked, eyeing him, “Have you talked to Alex or Isobel recently?” Liz knew everything, every last detail about basically everything that had ever happened. She knew how he felt about Alex and she knew how badly he missed Isobel. However, she also told him he shouldn’t have taken a step away from Alex whenever he felt like he was crashing. She’d told him that was what scared her about her feelings for Max, but it turns out all she needed to do was to give in.

And Michael really was ready to give in.

“Nah, but it’s okay, they made their choice,” Michael said, brushing it off. He wasn’t angry at Alex‒Alex had left for a good cause and his lack of keeping in touch made sense. He was, however, unimaginably pissed at Isobel for dropping off the face of the earth.

“Okay,” Liz said, “You know you can vent to me if you need to.”

“I know, Lizzie.”

She smiled and scrunched up her nose adorably at him.

They went to bed shockingly early that night. Iliana went down at 8 and they were dead asleep before the clock hit 8:30. Michael had taken off the following day so that Liz could enjoy her first day at work without stressing which meant he was also on baby duty, so it meant he couldn’t bring himself to regret going to bed so early.

However, he still had to be kicked awake when Iliana woke up a few minutes shy of midnight.

“Mikey,” Liz groaned, kicking him not too unlike a child, “Your turn.”

“Yeah, yeah,” he breathed, dragging himself out of bed and going to pick up Iliana and take her into the living room to get her a bottle.

He shushed her softly as he held her to his bare chest with one hand, rubbing his eye with the other one. He flicked the lightswitch on and that seemed to assure her even more that she was going to be fed and she slowly quieted down more. He used his telekinesis to make her bottle which Liz had been vocally jealous of even if he used it to help her all the time.

“You know, you’re really lucky you have Uncle Mikey instead of your daddy on nights like this,” Michael said between a yawn, “‘Cause he used to lose it when I woke him up. Now, he’d probably be a whole lot nicer to you, but I’m just saying.”

He’d barely finished making her bottle whenever there was a knock on the door.

He furrowed his eyebrows and looked at the clock, seeing it glaring a bright green 12:04 on it. There was actually no reason for anyone to be at their door this last. Michael did his best to keep his heartbeat still as he walked towards the door and looked through the peephole.

Alex returned to Roswell nine months after Max died.

Michael felt like he was hallucinating.

He opened the door carefully, regulating his breathing and trying not to jump to conclusions about what exactly was happening. Still, when the door was open, it was really Alex. His hair was longer and he was dressed in a way that screamed Alex. He had a nose ring again‒this time it was a stud on the side rather than septum, but still. He looked phenomenal. It took everything in him not to attack him in kisses.

“Hi,” Michael said softly. It took him a few seconds to realize that Alex’s eyes were trained on the baby he was feeding and then it took a couple seconds more to put together that he was probably jumping to conclusions. He left Michael when he was a mess and he returned to see him shirtless with a baby.

“Should I g‒”

“She’s Liz’s,” Micahel clarified. Alex’s eyes got impossibly wide.

“You and Liz‒”

“No! No,” he laughed, his hands shaking enough to get milk on Iliana’s cheek, “Max.”

Alex’s eyes formed sad realization and nodded. Then they just stared at each other for a minute. This didn’t feel real. Michael had been adjusting to a life with no one except for Liz and Iliana and it was weird to welcome someone home. But, god, it felt good to see Alex.

“Come in,” Michael said after a moment. Alex smiled and walked in, looking around.

“When Kyle said you got an apartment, I was impressed,” Alex said, “But now that I see you’re just staying with Liz it makes more sense.”

“Well, we live together, like, permanently,” Michael explained, sitting on the couch and adjusting the bottle in Iliana’s mouth.

“Oh?” Alex asked, sitting on the other side. Michael nodded and then gestured towards the baby. “Is she showing any signs of getting alien abilities or anything?”

“Not yet,” Michael said, eyes drifting off of Alex and down to the baby in his arms. She was still so small. “But Liz had a really horrible pregnancy and I think it was because she’s not completely human. I was reading, like, a ton of research on pregnancies and stuff and I think that her body was registering the baby as, like, a parasite and was sending antibodies to try and kill it which, then, made Liz extremely sick. We don’t know for sure or anything, but that’s the only thing that makes sense.”

“Fuck, that’s horrible,” Alex said, “She’s okay now though, right?”

“Yeah,” Michael confirmed, looking up to him with a smile, “She’s asleep though. She goes back to work tomorrow, though. Hope everyone’s ready for Iliana spending a whole lot more time with Papi Arturo.”

“Oh, I didn’t even think about that, how did he take everything with Max?” Alex asked, voice hushed. Everyone in Roswell was under the assumption that Max had just up and left. Arturo wasn’t any different.

“Fine, not like Liz really gave him an option to feel any other way. She basically just went up to him and was like ‘I’m pregnant and I’m keeping it and that’s all I have to say on the matter’. He hasn’t mentioned Max.”

“Man, it’s gonna real suck for him if you guys bring him back,” Alex laughed.

Things fell silent again as they just stared. It only broke when Michael propped Iliana on his shoulder to burp her and Alex seemed to remember he had other stuff to talk about. There was a million things to talk about. Michael didn’t even know where to start.

“So, uh, how is everyone? Isobel, Maria, Kyle, I guess,” Alex laughed. Michael couldn’t even manage a smile.

“I don’t know,” he answered honestly, “Isobel left not long after you and hasn’t kept in touch, Maria cut everyone off, and Kyle is just off being Kyle, I guess. It’s basically just been me and Liz.”

Alex frowned, “I didn’t know that.”

“You missed a lot,” Michael said softly.

“I missed you,” Alex blurted out and Michael couldn’t take his eyes away, “Seriously, I missed you so much it hurt. I didn’t know I could ever miss you as much as I did when I was at literal war, but, fuck, I did. If you weren’t holding a baby right now, I would probably kiss you until I couldn’t breathe.” Michael smiled wildly, his cheeks heating up and his heart thudding. It was the best thing he’d ever fucking heard. “Sorry if that was too straight forward, but I’m so tired of wasting time. I miss you.”

“I missed you too,” Michael agreed, suddenly extremely eager to go put Iliana back to bed and make Liz take over, “But you probably shouldn’t make me want to put the baby down. She doesn’t really accept not being held until she’s asleep.”

Alex chuckled, “You guys don’t just let her cry?”

“Fuck no,” Michael said, “I don’t want her to ever think we’re not there.” Alex nodded with the same big smile.

“What’s her name?” he asked, leaning closer to get a look at her, “God, she looks like Liz.” Michael could smell his cologne.

“Iliana,” he answered, nodding his agreement.

“That’s really pretty.”

“I know.”

“Can I hold you?” Alex asked her in a baby voice that Michael had never heard. It struck him to his core and he suddenly felt lightheaded. Michael slowly passed her into his arms.

Alex looked good with a baby. It was annoyingly attractive and Michael wondered if he even would’ve noticed that before Iliana was born. He didn’t remember ever finding someone’s maternal or paternal skills inherently attractive before, but seeing Alex rock her to sleep felt like the sexiest thing that had ever happened.

“Have you guys been working on bringing Max back?” he asked. Michael felt that attraction immediately bleed into guilt.

“Not recently. We’ve been just so focused on her.”

“That makes sense.”

Once she was asleep, Michael promised Alex that he’d be right back out. He placed Iliana on his side of the bed and created a pillow wall around her. He spared a look at Liz too and saw her out like a light. He wondered if she would be happy to see Alex in the morning. He hoped so.

When Michael came back out of the room, he found Alex only a few steps away. He looked serious and his face was illuminated by the bright kitchen lights. Michael hesitantly stepped closer.

“Are you home for good?” he asked. Alex touched him first, grabbing his arms and pulling him in close.

“Yes,” he said, “I’m home for good and I want us to work. I’ve missed you so fucking much, Michael. You don’t know.”

“We need to talk.”

“We will.”

Alex closed the space completely, kissing him like he was coming up for air. Michael kissed him back just as feverently, leading him back to the couch. He was reminded that, while he could survive with only Liz, he was never really living until he had Alex.

Maria listened to them ten months after Max died.

Liz and Michael had both gone to her bar before they opened and decided no wasn’t an answer. Except it made it a lot easier whenever Maria smile at the sight of them.

“Long time no see,” she mused. They both look at each other like they were waiting for the catch. “Look, I can’t hold a grudge that long. Well, I can, but it’s not healthy. I was just waiting for you guys to come see me. I gotta admit, I’m a little annoyed it’s taken so long but I’m glad to see you.”

“I know it’s not really an excuse, but I had a baby and I really lost track of time,” Liz said. Maria’s whole face transformed and she was on the other side of the bar in an instant.

“What? Oh my god, I didn’t know,” she gushed, hugging Liz. Liz folded into her the way Michael had seen her do with Alex a month prior. He always seemed to forget that they were basically inseparable at one point.

“Before you guys delve into the Iliana talk, I wanted to apologize,” Michael said. Maria looked over Liz’s head at him, still not letting go. “I should’ve been completely honest with you and I also should’ve told you what was going on with Liz. I couldn’t do anything about everyone else separating from us, but I could’ve reached out to you. I fucked up multiple times and I’m sorry.”

Maria breathed slow and steady and smiled. “You’re forgiven.”

“That easy?”

“Well, you both are going to have to pull, like, a lot of the friendship weight for a little bit just so I know you’re serious, but I think we’ll be able to get back to good.” Maria assured. Michael closed his eyes in relief.

And he smiled.

Isobel came back to Roswell eleven months after Max died.

“Hi.”

Michael just stared at her. He had never felt so much negativity towards Isobel in his life. Unlike with Alex and Maria, he didn’t feel that urge to hug her and ignore the problem. Because she was the problem. Michael had always gone out of his way to be there for her and, when they needed her, she was gone. He knew she had her own things to deal with, but she should’ve come to him. They could’ve healed together. Instead she was a new level of selfish.

“How did you get my address?” Michael asked. Isobel flinched at his tone.

“Michael, I‒” She paused for a moment and then sighed. “I got it from Alex.”

Michael turned up his nose. He was going to have to talk to Alex about that. It’d been two months of being back together and they were doing good, but clearly he didn’t know when to keep his address a secret.

“What do you want?”

“To apologize,” she said, “I shouldn’t have left.”

“Damn right you shouldn’t have left,” he spat, “We needed you.”

“I know and I’m sorry! I just… I needed to escape,” she said. Michael scoffed, shaking his head. Like clockwork, Iliana started crying and left Michael having to deal with his sister wondering why there was a baby crying.

“None of your business,” he said, closing the door a little bit so she couldn’t investigate, “You didn’t want anything to do with me or anyone else, so it’s none of your business.”

“Michael, I told you I was going to come back, I just needed some time,” Isobel sighed, “You don’t know what I was going through.”

“Yeah, and you didn’t even give me a chance to try. I have always been there for you, Isobel, and you just treated me like shit. I didn’t deserve that from you,” Michael said erestly, shifting from foot to foot as he tried to tune out Iliana’s crying. He hated that sound. He just wanted to hold her all the time so she never cried. But he also didn’t want to give Isobel the gift of seeing her.

“No, you didn’t and I’m sorry. I will be paying that price for the rest of my life,” she said sternly. He almost believed her. “Why is there a baby crying? Did you get Maria pregnant?”

“None of your business.”

“Michael, please. Will you just give me a chance to make it up to you?” she begged. He huffed a laugh.

“Yeah, I might’ve if you would’ve come home after a couple of days. You’ve been gone almost an entire year. Fuck that. I don’t need this.”

“Michael! Listen to me,” Isobel said, tears in her eyes as she put her hand on the door. For a moment, she looked like his sister and not the girl who abandoned him. “I think I know how to bring Max back.”

He froze.

“I have spent the last year trying to get stronger and I have. I think I know how we can do this,” she said and his stomach turned. He wanted to turn her away, to tell her no, to say he didn’t need her help.

But the fact of the matter was there was a baby in the next room who might have a chance to know her father if Isobel was being honest.

“I’m listening.”

The next month was full of trying to work with Isobel and not scream about how angry he was. Alex helped. Every time he felt like he was going to explode, he would soothe him. Liz was the best at it though. She also wasn’t too happy with Isobel, but she had mastered the art of being completely passive aggressive and bitchy while also accepting help. It was fun to watch.

However, Isobel really did have a point. She had honed her powers in a way that even Michael hadn’t. She could do all sorts of stuff and she didn’t struggle too much. She helped Michael got to the point he could heal. And, one day, he actually hugged her goodbye.

“Are you gonna forgive her?” Liz asked as they climbed into bed that night. Michael sighed and shrugged.

“I don’t know,” he admitted honestly, “It feels like she’s really trying and it seems like she put her time away to good use, I just… There’s no reason why she couldn’t keep in touch.”

“I know, Mikey,” Liz said, patting his chest, “I support whatever decision you make.”

Michael stared at the ceiling for a long while, weighing all of the options that he had. It’d been one hell of a year and he was eager for a break, but it still seemed like there was major fuckery in the future. It didn’t seem like anything would ever end.

“Liz?” he asked in the darkness. He didn’t really expect an answer, but he got one anyway.

“Yeah?”

“If we do figure out how to bring Max back, what does that mean for us?” It wasn’t a secret that, if they were successful, there was no way they’d be able to continue on like they had been. They’d shared a bed for seven months now. Even now that Alex was home, Michael spent at least six nights a week in bed with Liz and Iliana. That wasn’t an option once Max was home. None of this was an option once Max came home.

That made him feel empty.

“I don’t know,” Liz replied honestly, scooting a little closer. She put her head on his arm and he just pulled her in all the way.

“I know she’s not my baby,” Michael whispered, “But I don’t want to go back to not taking care of her everyday. I don’t want to go back to not seeing you every day.”

Liz was quiet for a moment, her long eyelashes brushing against his shoulder each time she blinked.

“Maybe we can get like a three bedroom house,” Liz suggested softly, “One for me and Max, one for Illy, one for you and Alex. That could work, right?”

Michael huffed at the idea. “It’d have to be a big house to get either of them to agree.”

“True, but four paychecks‒we could do it.”

Michael sighed and nodded. He hoped they could do it.

And that hope extended to something greater whenever they stepped into the cave during the thunderstorm. Both Michael and Isobel were vibrating with a power-strengthening serum Liz had managed to concoct and they were about to try their hardest to get shit back to normal. Or, at least, normal for Roswell.

Alex kissed him good luck and Isobel gave a reassuring look. He decided he would give it a shot, even if they failed. He looked up to Liz last and saw her give him the biggest smile in the world. She believed in him. If no one else did, she did.

That seemed like the most important thing he’d ever had.

A year after Max Evans died, he took his first breath of life again.

#michael & liz #michael & liz fic #malex #malex fic #echo #echo fic #roswell new mexico #roswell new mexico fic #rnm #rnm fic #michael guerin #michael guerin fic #alex manes #alex manes fic #liz ortecho #liz ortecho fic

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kamari333 · 4 years

Note

I had to actually look back to see if I made any tumblr posts about these guys. I couldn’t find any??? So I guess this is my oppertunity to scream about these absolute fucking bastards.

Now. Um. Forewarning: I don’t actually know a lot about the original dreamtale. Or, I don’t keep up with it, at least. I read the first origin comic (and a bit of the cream ship comic) one time a while ago and... i dunno. found it lacking? I liked the premise but there was something distinctly missing in it for me. So these headcanons are more like an AU (an AU of an AU, surprise surprise, I’m on my shit again XD) that I thought up to help me enjoy the concept more when writing it. I’ve been calling it ‘Dr33mtal3’ in my head, but a friend named it ‘Dryad Dreamtale’ so either of those names work.

So. Dream and Night are tree spirits shaped like skeletons, born of the tree of duality to be its guardians. They were made to be more like monsters to better protect the tree and put its power to use.

Now, plants and gods (and especially god-plants) have very different ideals, morals, and expectations than mortals and humans and monsters. Dream and Night are half plant/god, but they are also half monster/mortal, so they cannot relate entirely to their tree mom or completely understand her. Likewise, she could not completely understand them. Thus, the twins understandably had a stressful, dysfunctional childhood and have long lasting mommy/daddy issues.

They also suffer from significant other kinds of trauma inflicted on them by their villager guardians.

So they are both psychologically fucked up.

They both have “wings” and “tentacles” but Night hides his wings and Dream hides his tentacles. Night’s wings are smaller than Dreams.

they aren’t actually tentacles though. they are roots and vines. because they are tree spirits. using those roots/vines, they can directly soak up energy and water. likewise, the “feathers” on their wings are actually leaves (except near the base and ridges, which are more like flower petals). they use these leaves to breathe in ambient emotions.

when injured, they bleed resin. that goop on nightmare? excess sap/resin he’s overgenerating thanks to consuming so many apples.

usually only strong internal emotions would make them do that. its only because of such strong internal emotions that nightmare continues to do that even after a thousand years.

i think that, being plants (which are terribly spiteful and innovative creatures) night and dream can control the consistency and nature of their sap and resin. dream keeps his sweet and sugary at all times, but nightmare switxhes between spicy-like-ghost-pepper-in-the-face caustic and rubber, and mild maple syrup, depending on his mood and how much he wants the person he is touching to hurt.

i think that dream is both terribly selfish and painfully selfless all at once, both kind and cruel. i think he is a very seelie fae who will never break a promise, but will not let you go unpunished for breaking yours. i think he has no problem breaking your legs if it means saving you from something else. dream will happily beat someone within an inch of their life, then nurse them back to health, if he thinks for a moment it is for the greater good.

nightmare goes to great lengths to make people hate him. at the end of the day he is as disgusted with himself as anyone else, but he does it and will keep doing it because if no one fears him, they will destroy him. nightmare is a terrible unseelie fae, but he will never speak an untrue word or break an oath once struck. it is not in his nature. he will rule with an iron fist, but he is just as capable of selflessness as he is of cruelty.

i think dream is so concerned with the big picture he sometimes forgets little details. i think he is the type to take in strays before he has a home to keep them in. he befriends ink and ink makes him a multiverse home to keep his people safe in. dream then takes it upon himself to make sure it stays operational, despite eventually accumulating a city’s worth of people in what was originally a 4 bedroom townhouse. lucky him that ink has his back, continually expanding as needed.

i think nightmare is far more artistic and clever than folks give him credit for. i think he enjoys making things. i think he is the type of man to take great pride in building everything he has himself. his castle is made out of his own power: stone made of his own resin, hardened into amber; wood grown from his own bones; tapestries woven of textiles made from his own leaves, pets, and processed wood. his castle of black amber is constructed of his own blood, sweat, and tears, lovingly handcrafted art for him to live in. all natural. all his. (such a shame he never got around to furnishing all of it, having only enough time and drive to do the first floor with how long handweaving the carpets took; such a shame no one noticed or cared because the fear for their lives overshadowed any awe they could have had upon seeing the delicate craftsmanship of the arching ceilings and looming statues).

i think dream and night both love fresh water and sunlight. they get incredibly sleepy if its too hot or too cold. they are terrified of fire, squirrels, fungi, and insects. they dont like birds much either. they easily get jealous of other plants (comically so, to the point of sassing or threatening or passive-aggressively insulting non-sapient rose bushes or fica or succulents they come into contact with). they are scared of mistletoe (being a plant that eats other plants, kinda).

i hc that dream with faint dead on his feet if he gets too scared, and nightmare screams like a white girl in a horror movie.

i like to think that because they are trees, they have a “season” (like heat, but for trees) where they are very pro-affection. their leaves turn pink and they involuntarily cover themselves in pink pollen that drives nearby creatures’ libido into overdrive. neither brother likes this, so when their season hits they hide away so nobody notices (night because he does not want to seem weak, dream because he does not want to inconvenience anyone else).

i like to headcanon that a holdover from their human attributes means each brother can only formulate one set of sex organs. i’ll give you a hint: nightmare is trans in my hc (be gay do crime). he takes great pains to make sure nobody knows this.

i like to think that both brothers hide all of this, hide all of their tree-ness as best they can, and instead hide behind the aspects of being an angel and a tentacle abomination in order to throw off anyone who might look for weaknesses. so nobody knows what they really are.

These are all superficial HCs of course. The big thing is that i wanted their natures to be... more complicated than simply good and evil. They believe and say that they are guardians of positivity and negativity (and in a way thats true), but only in its most simplistic of forms.

Dream is the aspect of Giving: he radiates pollen and magical influence to embue those around him with his power. He can give them emotions. He eats positivity, thats what sustains him, but his power is to give. He could just as easily give his people bad feelings as good ones (not that he knows this). However, Dream only knows and cares about giving positivity. So he does. He leaves his magic and influence on the souls of anyone who will give him the oppertunity, and once the door is open, he will continually feed them his power to make them happy. He will eat/breathe that happiness, converting it to energy, perpetuating the cycle.

But unmitigated mania has its drawbacks. There is a price to be paid in the end.

Nightmare is the aspect of Taking. He takes and takes, taking the emotions and energy of others for himself. He can even take the entropy out of an injury to heal a wound. Nightmare can take positivd feelings out of others, but for some reason his body doesn’t like him doing that and makes him sick/hurt. He has a much easier time taking negativity, draining away the hurt and fear and exhaustion, leaving a calming emptiness behind. Nightmare cannot process or use everything he takes for himself, needing to expell it as a waste product. He converts negative feelings (and the wasted energy disipated through entropy) into energy, which lets him continue his taking.

You cannot fill a hole that is already filled, after all. You must empty it first.

These two aspects are neither good nor evil in and of themselves. There are good and bad things about them. But these aspects have been oversimplified and misinterpreted by those around the twins that even they themselves do not fully understand what it is that they are.

and i think a story about them coming to understand themselves would be so much more interesting than a simple story of good vs evil.

#kamari333answers #kamari333headcanon #dr33mtal3

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jadelotusflower · 5 years

Text

Fic: He Will Not Encumber Me (Han, Luke, OT era)

Luke gets drunk - Han cleans up the mess.

On A03 or under the cut

There were two things the Rebels did well, in Han Solo’s opinion. The first was hail a loss as a victory simply because it was not annihilation, and the second was to keep a well stocked bar in every officer’s mess. There was of course an obvious correlation between the two.

It had been another brutal, demoralising loss for the Alliance, and Han wasn’t sure how many of those they had left in them. Yet what was left of the rebels celebrated because there was still a rebellion to be fought and therefore, still hope.

The embodiment of that hope was surrounded by a throng of fellow pilots, being hailed and toasted, fresh drinks being pressed into his hand the moment he finished the last one. Han had arrived late and took up his usual spot at the bar sipping a glass of Corellian whiskey, not quite ready to celebrate yet another brush with death.

Of course, he didn’t blame the kid; he’d been promoted after all, and deserved at least one night to enjoy it with a drink - or fifteen. Han noted with amusement the wide grin that didn’t once falter, the blearly, unfocused look to the eyes, the slightly delayed reactions, and every now and then, distinct giggling.

The newly minted Commander Skywalker was drunk.

That in and of itself should not seem unusual, but it was rare to see Luke in such a state. Han remembered the first time he’d seen Luke drink alcohol, in those heady few hours after the medal ceremony on Yavin but before the evacuation. The ale had been flowing free then too, but while Luke had consumed as much as any of them, it hadn’t seemed to affect him in the same way, or at least not as quickly.

He’d expected to be entertained by a fresh-off-the-farm boy scout giddy on victory and his first taste of real whiskey. But while his new friend and fellow survivor Antilles had slumped down onto the bar, laughing softly to himself and still clutching his glass, Luke had been perched happily on the stool beside him ordering another.

“You drank in the Mos Eisley Cantina right?” Luke had said when Han had questioned him.

“Yeah,” he’d confirmed, and made a face. “I didn’t think it was legal to sell distilled engine grease.”

“It’s Tatooine,” Luke had laughed darkly. “It’s only illegal if the Hutts don’t like it. But we have a saying too - if you can ferment it or distill it, you can drink it.”

“Whether you live to drink it again is not the barkeep’s problem I guess.”

“In Mos Eisley, sure - in Anchorhead they relied on repeat business,” Luke told him with a shrug. “But it was no less potent, there was a sill out the back using whatever desert plants we could get our hands on.”

“Tatooine moonshine, huh?” Han had lifted his glass in salute. “I’m impressed kid.”

But Luke’s tolerance for alcohol seemed to go beyond a familiarity with the strong stuff - of course there was also his metabolism that Han liked to joke was faster than the Falcon on the Kessel Run. He’d once seen the kid put away three dozen spiced ribenes (with a side order of tomo-slaw), chase them with a basket of deep fried tubers and still have room for half a sic-six layer cake.

He won every drinking game he was challenged to for a year after joining the Rebellion, which always ended up with his opponent either slumped on the floor, vomiting into a trash can, or on one ignoble occasion, in the medward getting their stomach pumped. They’d all been given a week’s latrine duty after that, and drinking games expressly banned.

Of course, the Alliance couldn’t police what happened planetside, and more than once when they’d been in need of some quick funds Han had tried to persuade him to invite challenge in the local bar. Luke had always refused, but had eventually told him the reason in that way of his - half pride, half humility.

“It’s the Force Han,” he’d said. “If I concentrate, I can feel the alcohol in my bloodstream, push it along and make it metabolise quickly.”

“The Force.” Han had been unconvinced. “Okay then.”

“I’m serious, Han. I think I’ve been doing it unconsciously all my life, but now I can control it.”

“Well kid,” Han had slapped his shoulder, and grinned. “Finally an upside to this Jedi business! So let’s pick a mark and we’ll have the credits for the parts we need by morning.”

Luke had shaken his head and sighed in exasperation. “Don’t you see, it gives me an advantage. It wouldn’t be fair.”

“Fair would be me enjoying a Corellian sunset with a beautiful woman and surrounded by piles of credits, not on this junk planet with you scrounging for spare parts.” Han threw up his hands. “No one in this joint is playing fair - the barkeep’s watering down the whiskey, the sabacc dealer’s got cards up his sleeve, even that slot machine on the wall is rigged. Everyone’s a cheat, you just gotta be the best one.”

“Not me.” Luke was resolute, and while Han secretly admired his firm moral stance, in reality it just made things that much harder for them.

They’d made it off the planet eventually, but Han had never questioned Luke’s alcohol tolerance again.

Which was why the scene before him was so strange. Han watched Luke closely for a few more minutes, trying to determine if it was artifice. But when Luke knocked over a decanter and began apologising profusely to a potted plant rather than the bartender, he decided it couldn’t be.

There was only one explanation left - that Luke was drunk because he wanted to be.

Han wasn’t sure if he was relieved the kid was giving himself a much needed release, or deeply concerned that he was seeking a desperate escape. He sidled his way over to the throng surrounding Luke, hovering on the outskirts of the pilot pack.

Wedge Antilles clinked a fork against the side of his glass and announced he was going to make a speech. Oddly, the young pilot always kept a fork on his person, and when Han had once called it weird, Wedge had given him a wry look.

“What’s weird is putting something in your mouth that’s had a thousand other tongues on it,” he’d said, and pointed his fork at him. “Think about it.”

“No thanks,” Han had said politely, avoiding the low hanging fruit of the unintended double entendre. Others hadn’t his restraint, and since then the fork in question, and Wedge’s penchant for a clean utensil (double entendre absolutely intended) had been the source of much fun.

“Alright Antilles,” called another pilot Han couldn’t remember the name of. “Stop banging it about!”

“Yeah, keep that thing sheathed,” yet another rejoined. “There are minors present!” He put his arm around a colleague who Han knew was of age, but had a boyish face that had earned him the nickname Baby. They all had little names for each other outside their call signs, which could change from mission to mission and through movement between squadrons. Luke had, for obvious reasons after Yavin, been given the name Starkiller.

“Oh kriff off the lot of you,” Wedge made a rude gesture, but was smiling, unoffended. “I’m going to make my speech.”

He made quite a show of clearing his throat until they were all listening. “To Luke,” he raised his glass, “or should I say, Sir.” He gave a little mock curtsy and no one laughed harder than the man himself.

“I remember the first time I met Luke,” he reminisced. “When he told me quite nonchalantly that his favourite pastime on Tatooine was shooting at desert rats, and I thought this guy is in for a rude awakening once he actually gets in a proper ship. Seriously, Luke,” Wedge wagged a finger at him. “There’s no rats in space.”

“Says you,” Luke laughed. “The Executor’s full of them!”

“But much to my surprise,” Wedge continued, “the Empire’s most dangerous weapon blew up like many a mangry rodent before it, thanks to my friend the Starkiller. Since then there’s no one else I’d rather fly alongside, even if I now have to call him Sir for the privilege.”

Wedge gave him a lazy salute and raised his glass. “To Commander Skywalker!”

“Commander Skywalker!” the cheer went through the room, and Wedge clapped Luke on the shoulder as they downed their ales at a rapid pace. The former finished first, wiping his mouth and banging his empty glass down on the bar.

“Okay, enough speeches,” he threw his hands up in the air. “Let’s dance!”

Han was content to leave them to it, leaning against the bar and savoring his whiskey. It was good to see Luke let loose a bit - the poor kid rarely got the chance since between his obligations to the Rebellion and trying to train himself to be a Jedi, Han didn’t know when Luke had time to sleep, let alone have fun. Now he’d been promoted to command, another burden he seemed happy to take upon himself without thought of the consequences.

He’d had seen it too many times among pilots and revolutionaries - they shone bright and burned out quickly, taking on more responsibility, more risk, until their luck ran out. But there was no reasoning with the kid - Han had tried, and Leia was no help, she was exactly the same way. So he had to content himself with keeping close, watching over Luke, ready to pull him back from the brink when he strayed too close.

Han sighed as he signalled to the barkeep for another drink. How he’d become mother hen to these rag-tag rebels, he didn’t know. But there is was.

Aggressive rock music blared over the speakers, and Han watched in amusement Luke banging his head along in time with the heavy drum beats, mouthing the words and moving his feet with surprising rhythm. It was one of those anti-Imperial anthems, played in many an underground club to whip people into a rebellious frenzy, and a popular choice among the young pilots looking to offload some post-battle energy.

Well, the other popular choice, Han smirked as he saw a few pilots pair up and scoot off to celebrate surviving another day. A few hopefuls sidled up to Luke, and while he danced and laughed and shared a drink with them, one by one they gave up as they realised he wasn’t the one-night stand type. He'd learned the hard way early on; his mission with Nakari Kalen had been the beginnings of a sweet romance until it had ended in tragedy, and the other brief relationships he'd observed Luke have had seemed to have made him battle-shy. After the losses that day, Han didn't blame him.

Eventually the revelry died down - Wedge passed out on the lounge snoring loudly, and a few others sprawled out less comfortably on the floor. But Luke had held out, and stumbled over to Han at the bar with a boozy grin.

“What’re drinking?” Luke asked, reaching for the still mostly full bottle Han had slowly been working on.

“Something too expensive to waste on someone already drunk.” Han pulled the bottle out of his reach.

Luke laughed. “Aw, come on Han.”

“I think you’ve had enough anyway,” Han stowed the whiskey behind the bar, counting that Luke no longer had the physical dexterity to reach over it. “I’m cutting you off.”

“You can’t boss me around anymore, Han.” Luke leaned heavily on the bar. “I’m a Commander now - I outrank you.”

“Is that so?” Han was about to remind him that his title of Captain was because of his ship, not a rank in the Alliance military, but it there was little point.

“Yeah, it’s so.” Luke poked him in the chest. “I can just say, Captain Solo, fetch me a hydrospanner, or Captain Solo, stop flirting so outrageously with Leia, and you have to comply.”

Han chuckled to himself and patted Luke on the shoulder. “I don’t think that’s how it works, kid.”

“And you don’t get to call me kid anymore.” Luke brushed him away.

“Alright, Commander,” Han humoured him. “Tell you what. You walk from one side of this room to the other unaided and you can have as many more drinks as you want."

Luke stared at him for a few long moments, glanced at the large transparisteel window that made up one wall, and the exit located at the other. He straightened and cleared his throat, but then closed his eyes as if the room was spinning.

“Fine.” He pouted and leaned back against the bar. “Spoilspot.”

“Hey, you’re the Starkiller,” Han joked, “I’m the Fun Killer.”

Luke laughed more than even Han felt the remark warranted. “You’re funny,” he slurred, and laughed again. “Do you know you’re funny?”

“Yeah, I know.” He surveyed the room, not for the first time noting a significant absence. “Leia wasn’t here tonight.”

Luke shrugged. “Strategy meetings. After today, I guess they have a lot to talk about.”

“What, and leaving out the exalted Commander Skywalker?”

“I’m excepted...expected tomorrow.”

Han eyed him, thinking it would take a miracle for Luke to have sobered up by then. He leaned over the bar and poured a glass of water from the tap, forcing it into the kid’s hand.

“She did come by and congratulate me,” Luke said as he took a sip. “Kissed me too.”

“What?” Han felt a traitorous tug in his heart.

“Here.” Luke pointed to his cheek, and Han was disturbed by how much he was relieved. Their shared affection for Leia was something they never talked about, and Han could barely acknowledge he had affection for Leia, even to himself. But Luke was drunk, and therefore more likely to be more forthcoming than he usually was, and less likely to remember it.

“So, a kiss huh?” Han knew it was unscrupulous, but had to know. “And did you reciprocate?”

Luke blinked at him. “She didn’t get promoted.”

Han ran a hand over his face and laughed. “Okay, kid. But you like her right?”

“Of course, she’s my friend.”

It was like talking to a toddler. “No, I mean more than that,” he pressed, rethinking his approach. “For example, what do you feel, when you look at her?”

Luke furrowed his brow and it took him several moments to respond, as if he’d never had to put his feelings into words before.

“I feel...kinship.”

Han thought it was an odd word to describe attraction, and for the first time wondered whether Luke’s feelings for Leia were more platonic than he’d assumed. He’d certainly never pursued her, or made any kind of romantic overture, seemingly content with their friendship as it was. On the other hand, Han had never made any overtures either, although that was because he didn’t think he’d get the response he wanted, and then what he did have with her would be soured.

“Why?” Luke asked him. “What do you feel when you look at her?”

Han cleared his throat. “Yeah, same as you. Kinship and all that.”

Luke narrowed his eyes and gave him one of those appraising stares that when sober made Han feel as if the kid was reading his thoughts, but didn’t have the same effect when Luke could barely stand upright. He just looked like he was squinting.

“So Rogue Squadron huh?” Han changed to subject. “Good name.”

“Yeah,” Luke nodded, thankfully distracted. “It seemed right.”

“From what they say around here that Jyn Erso was quite the dame.”

Luke nodded again, staring off into the middle distance. “I’ve been thinking about them a lot lately. Do you think it’s possible to miss people you never even met?”

“Never gave it much thought.”

“There was so much I wanted to ask them,” Luke sighed. “She wore a kyber crystal on a necklace, did you know that? I wonder if there was a Jedi in her family, something she could have told me about them. And they say Chirrut Imwe was a monk, guarding knowledge of the Force at the temple on Jedha. I wish…”

“Yeah, but Luke.” Han touched his arm. “If they were still here, we wouldn’t be.”

“I know.” Luke blinked, his eyes wet. “They died so we could continue the fight. Like half the fleet today.”

“It’s what our lives have become,” Han sighed. “You know it was halfway through this little shindig I realised that other than you and Antilles, I didn’t know anyone’s real name.”

Luke looked at him ruefully. “You actually have to talk to people to learn their names you know.”

“Hmn.” Han swirled the whiskey in his glass. “You ever hear of Lernaean, kid?”

Luke shook his head.

“Vile water planet,” Han shuddered, thinking of his one and only visit, since no bounty could ever convince him to return. “They have some kind of ocean serpent there, living in the depths. You have the misfortune to come across one of ‘em, turn and run.”

“Why’s that?”

“Because it can’t be killed,” Han told him putting down his glass. “Cut off its head, and two grow in its place. Cut off those two, you got four to deal with, you get it?”

“Like us,” Luke nodded. “They can take out a cell of rebels, they can destroy half our fleet, but there will always be more of us.”

“No, kid,” Han said, taking him by the shoulders. “It’s not like you at all, that’s the point! Because the Empire kills a rebel, and there aren’t two to take his place. There’s just one less rebel to worry about, and one day there won’t be any.”

“How can you say that?” Luke shook him off. “More are joining our cause all the time!”

Han shook his head - he really was just a kid. “What do you think the casualties were today - five hundred maybe? You got a thousand new recruits lined up?”

Luke’s lower lip trembled, and he took a shaky breath. “Why are you saying this Han?”

“I just want to know what your endgame is Luke,” Han pressed. “At what point do you pack it in, and say enough is enough?”

Luke raised his chin, looking up at Han with that zealous fire he had. “We don’t. We fight until we either win, or we die.”

“Simple as that?”

“Yeah.”

Han sighed again, and drowned the last of his whiskey. “And you wonder why I don’t bother to learn anyone’s name.”

“Well leave, if you think we’re such a lost cause.” Luke pushed at Han’s chest. “Go pay off Jabba and go back to whatever life you had before this. I don’t need you looking out for me.”

He pushed off the bar and clearly attempted to stride off to punctuate his point, but instead tripped over his own feet and went careering towards the floor.

“It’s alright kid,” Han caught him by the arms and lifted him upright. “I got you.”

“Commander,” Luke murmured, and was then promptly sick in a potted plant.

“Get command of your digestive system, and we’ll talk.” Han grasped a napkin off the bar and crouched down to hand it to Luke.

“This is disgusting,” he moaned pitifully and wiped his mouth.

“Welcome to the world of mere mortals.” Han gave him water so he could rinse out his mouth. “Come on.” He hauled Luke to his feet and lopped the kid’s arm around his shoulders to steady him.

“I’m never drinking again,” Luke groaned as Han helped him back his quarters and lay him on the bunk.

“Yeah, that’s what they all say.” Spying Luke’s lightsaber on the side table, Han moved it to a high shelf just in case. Seeing nothing else that could pose a danger - Luke kept his room depressingly clean - Han sat down on the bunk to unlace his boots.

“Maybe you’re right Han,” Luke said despondently. “Maybe this is a lost cause.”

“Ah, don’t listen to me.” Han decided to leave Luke’s socks on, and swung his feet up onto the bunk.

“I still have to fight,” Luke continued, staring at the ceiling. “Even if there’s only a fool’s hope.”

That’s exactly what it was, but Han held his tongue and patted Luke’s leg in acknowledgement.

“But you don’t have to,” Luke murmured, eyes fluttering closed. “I know this isn’t a comfortable life.”

“Yeah, well neither’s smuggling,” Han conceded. “Although the pay is better.”

Luke opened one eye. “When we met you were up to your eyes in debt to Jabba.”

He couldn’t argue with that. “Yeah but when I met an Imperial cruiser, I could drop the sprice shipment. Can’t shoot the Empire’s Most Wanted out the airlock,” he gave him a wink, “as much as I’d like to sometimes.”

Luke chuckled, eye closing again and head lolling to one side on the pillow.

“I have to leave eventually though,” Han said softly. After all, he was still in hock to Jabba up to his eyeballs, and who knew how much longer it would be before the slug sent some goon looking to take payment in blood.

“Hnm.” Luke seemed to be drifting off, so Han pulled the blanket up over him and patted his shoulder. He located an empty rubbish bin and moved it to the side of the bunk for easy access should Luke wake up and need to be sick again, which based on the kids complexion was highly likely. A quick sweep of the room left him satisfied, and he made his way to the door.

“Han?” Luke muttered, and when Han turned back he seemed asleep, but must have been only nearly so.

“Yeah?”

“That water snake - anyone ever kill it?”

Han smiled, tapping his fingers against the doorframe. “Not yet,” he said. “Who knows, maybe you will.”

The door slid closed behind him, and Han headed down the corridor to his own quarters, thinking that if anyone could slay a monster like that, he’d bet on it being Luke. And maybe - just maybe - he'd be there to see it.

#star wars fic #ot era fanfic #han solo #luke skywalker #jadelotusflower: fic #star wars original trilogy #references to rogue one #reference to heir to the jedi #minor appearance by wedge antilles #wholesome content #he ain't heavy #he's my brother

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q-dkw · 4 years

Text

Trial of Skids part 9

"We are almost at the end of The Trials so what are your last words?”

“Go die.”

“Wait until Sunday then we can both go die unless you want to play No Cape.”

Standing in front of the small cave, can it be called a cave? The last trial, the Fire Trial.

And ugh, are they gonna light all those candles up again?

“Just move pass the candles, I will light them up from here.”

Bless Kraa again for knowing them too well, they feel like they are already at their limite and about to drop dead.

Doing what Kraa said, Deafi move pass each others while Kraa’s holding the candle up. They aren’t done when suddenly the all the candles are light up and the white circle appear to be just done the cool down, someone must be in the Trial.

“Come on Kraa, let’s sit and yes, we are gonna meet others in there. Whatever, I don’t want to wait and so do you.” Without waiting for Kraa, they sit.

Kraa is reluctant a bit until she sighs and sits with them.

With the promise follow, “Fine but if anything happened to others in there, nobody is gonna know anything.”

Let’s just hope the others went first haven’t heard the rumor or even aware of it.

As they are transfer into the trial, open their eyes, they saw the black circle thing. Black, just like the coffee Kraa drinks every Resets. Kraa said it’s good to hype her energy up so she can go and collect her debt from others, which also means more damage to them.

“I wonder what does that thing taste, look like some black cotton candy.”

“... I still can’t believe your word “coffee” is accepted in the dictionary and now is widely known.”

“Meh, we still have so many words to discover and add to our lexicon, ironically, some words I found in my dreams from the human are adapted for us.”

Deafi knows Kraa hate the human in their dreams, mostly because of how prideful and greedy they are. Although there are good human in there, they just appear a bit too little. They think Kraa hates human because they passionately indirect aggressive claim they should ‘respect’ the canon(?) Sky Kids something something. Like how some of them just got outrage and said our color skin is black or whatever and should just stick with that color while ignoring the aspect that Sky Kids don’t even have nose, eyes nor a mouth to begin with.

Do they even know Sky Kids (or Skids) literally can change their skin color? By wearing different pants???

“Deafi, I can hear your so-called ‘brain’ is cooking up right now.”

Stoping in their trance, Deafi looks at Kraa.

“And you look like a small mochi, you look so cute that I’m gonna puke and I want to feed you to the shirmps just to let you know, you look cute.”

“... I am not evern surpised by how you worded you words, carry me.”

And they do it.

“So, we go in there?”

Stretching their arms out, they can see the dim glow of the candle at the corner of their eyes, the white candle.

“What? We are gonna burn some plants?”

“No, this is what we called, poor make-shift lantern since you can’t bring yours in here.”

“...I’m still salty that they took my lantern.”

“Tell it to The Highest, now get moving.”

Shrugging, they go in the black hole thing, maybe it can made into a black cotton candy?

As they go further in, the road is getting thiner and thiner, if they slipped then-

Oh!

Nevermind, they just slip.

Getting back up again and carrying Kraa on the shoulders, they carefully walk in.

As the darkness swallow them in, they find a look alike tomb stone, they prefer to call it a save point but then Kraa will give them a look. Also, the tomb stone is lighted along with other small candles. Some Skids must have been here then.

“Well, this will be easy for us.”

“...”

“Don’t worry, you have me here, you won’t get lost in the dark.”

“Just go.”

Walking alongside each candles, they may as well just go into the dark and finished the trial much quicker but sadly others may notices, not that others can see in the dark anyway still Kraa said “safety first” which is total bull crab. If they have known Kraa for like, thousand centuries now? Ugh, they can’t remember nor do they care how long, one thing for sure is that there is no such thing as “safety” “careful” nor “cautions” in Kraa’s dictionary. Unless we are talking about Kraa’s plot against her enemies or someone she hates (which is everyone) then that’s a different matter.

Wait, maybe Kraa IS planning to get rid of the others two?

“Kraa, I see two Skids over there.”

“...”

“So what’s your plan?”

“... do you even need to even ask such redundant question?”

“No but it may get you mad so I will ask.”

“And you’re doing just so great right now, move it!”

Such a wonderful compliment from Kraa, they move toward others Skid and all of them decide (except Kraa) to Lit up. Oh, they both wear a chibi mask, just like Kraa. As they wait for any reaction, others Skid don’t seem to know anything and only to glance at them them keep moving.

Well, those two are safe for now since Kraa doesn’t say anything.

Better get moving.

As they move past the others two in the dark maze, losting their locations, Kraa immediately go right through the darkness and light up the save point which light the all the fire near the stair for they to keep going.

Not for long that they finally find the second stair, they look back at the road and don’t see the others two, only can hear their shouts in the darkness.

Did they lost?

Kraa, the forever Skid that know what are they thinking and vice versa (and she hates it), speaks. “Ignore them, just go.”

“I mean, only if they are bunch of a-holes and...”

And now this is where their opinions clash together. Both of their personality is shit beyond saving, the only different a bit is their moral, their principled. Kraa is too independent, too detached from others that she doesn’t even care if others are getting Krilled or not. Helping others are never in her mind, she only ‘helps’ when she is using someone for her own gains. There is only her and her only in her world.

While they is a bit different, they won’t help someone when it’s not their own field, they know their own limit so they can only help when they can.

Kraa always drag them away when someone ask them to help on the Candles Run since they can barely say no to others.

And they always try to pursue Kraa to help others that are in need.

“...”

“...no”

“But Kraaaa!”

“No.”

“Fine, I will go find them and guide them to here, you can go first.”

From the day they had Fall, both have no one to help, have no one to guide them, have no one to teach them, have no one beside them. Deafi promised themselves that they will help others in need with their limit, but Kraa... Kraa told herself that she won’t need any help nor anyone to help her.

If Kraa won’t help then hey, the others two are much safer then.

As soon as they step in the dark, their find out the light is being consume.

Krill, this is not good.

Leaving Kraa behind, they shout and try to get to the others two. Both of those shout back and immediately, they find them.

It seem like, they also just unlock the Carry.

Great, now if they don’t pretend to be normal like others Skids, they are screwed.

Just as they trying to figure out a plan, they suddenly feel someone’s present.

“Carry me.”

“Kraa? What are you-”

“Do it or I’m going alone and leaving three of you behind.”

“Jeez, ok ok.”

“See Kraa? It’s ok good to help someone else in need and there shouldn’t be any reason to help others.”

“Just shut up and go.”

With Kraa here, they don’t need to pretend anymore and guide the others two to the next stage.

This time, they stick close together.

It wasn’t that difficult, except they have to wait for others since one of their Light was put out.

But all in all, it’s good.

Approaching to the next stage, they see a stone figure up ahead.

The Lion Statue, the final stage.

“Well, don’t you feel good today after helping the others two?”

“No.”

“Why did I even ask?”

“Because you are stupud.”

“Fair enough.”

The rest of the journey is getting the Star, they bid goodbye to the others two as they constantly bowing as thank you.

“You dropped your necklace.”

“...just get rid of it.”

“Do it yourself when I’m not here.”

Ahhh, they do not want to dicuss about it.

“The fire trial is fun, let’s do it again Kraa!”

“Do it yourself and we’re already dead anyway, you don’t need me to be your light recharge.”

“But it’s so boringggg doing it myself!”

“Not my problems.”

End.

#sky children of the light #sky cotl #that game sky #Trial of Skids #ToS part 9 #my fic

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