#**on a more personal note i think ive always had that sense of sentimentality in my gifts | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

spacedlexi · 4 months

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Wait, people think Carver is the best TWDG villain?? I always thought he was basic as hell, and the fact that he was beefing with an 11-years old girl... Now Stranger on the other hand was great, he was super intimidating and off-putting and I was genuinely so scared he would hurt Clementine. I also liked Minnie for the same reasons (she was so creepy/off-putting), but I still think Stranger is the best villain bc he had a great setup while Minnie was kind of a secondary villain. But going back to Lilly/Carver, I also definitely prefer Lilly over Carver even though neither are my favorite... And now I'm kind of curious how you would rank the rest of the TWDG villains? 🤔

carver being the best villain is a sentiment ive heard for years 😭 im sure its coming from the "S2 is the best season" crowd tho which i also dont agree with 💀

the stranger is an effective villain. hes not exactly the typical villain type people expect. but hes very unsettling and him stalking clementine for who even knows how long through the walkie talkie is 🤢 he really makes me feel sick. she was using that talkie to deal with the loss of her parents, and this fucking creep took advantage of that so hard he was able to convince her to trust him. ugh he makes me feel so gross. and think of all the guilt clem must have about that situation. trusting this freak to help her find her parents, when if she had just stayed then lee wouldnt have gotten bit looking for her, and her parents were already dead the entire time anyway. oof. theres no way that isnt one of the biggest regrets of her life

carver is fine. i definitely think his character wouldve made more sense if they put kenny in that role instead. that way theres less "i am a grown man beefing with an 11 year old" and more "this is a child i helped look out for once, and im gonna make sure shes raised Right". but i agree that carver as he is is just over the top. overly villainous to the point of it being a little comical. like when villains are all tough like that my reaction is usually "god i WISH youd fucking kill me already so i dont have to hear your bullshit anymore do you know how GOOFY you sound??". if it was kenny in that role i definitely think they wouldve been able to tone it back a bit, and him "having a good side" wouldve been way more believable. as he is carver is kind of one note

joan.... definitely the weakest of the bunch. i dont really have much to say about her. david isnt even technically a villain but i definitely saw him as the better antagonist for the season. i mean hes definitely a villain in clems eyes. and is a constant semi-antagonist towards javi throughout the whole season. joans just kinda.. there.. doing things behind the scenes to cause conflict until the final confrontation. and then she can just disappear... okay

i like the way the antagonists work in S4. theres more of a discussion around what actually makes someone a villain and the difference between a person who fucked up and made (very horrible) mistakes, and a person who is straight up a threat. and i like that it connects back to the idea of lee and his murder of that senator. did he do something horrible? yes. did he destroy his relationship to his family? yes. does he regret what he did? i think so. and he definitely has guilt about his fucked up relationship with his wife. in S1 they mention how non-guilty people got sent to prison all the time. while lee is Definitely a murderer, we get to see over the season that hes a good guy who just wanted a family and in a moment of rage and betrayal did something he can never take back. this is why i never hated marlon. did he fuck up and do horrible things? of course. but he was a scared fucked up teen leading a group of other scared fucked up teens. he knows he fucked up, and continued fucking up to cover for his previous fuck ups lol. but he can be talked down. its a shame it ends the way it does, but i really like being able to teach aj the difference between people like marlon and people like lilly

lilly takes that kenny/carver idea and applies it to a clementine that has grown up and has been looking out for herself (and baby aj) for years now, instead of the 11 year old trying to figure shit out she was in S2. shes too old for lilly to be able to sway her in a way she couldve been more susceptible to in S2, and when lilly finally realizes this she just turns her attention to aj instead, seeing the potential in him (a potential clem does NOT want aj to live up to, wanting him to get to be a kid and not just a survivor, let alone a killer). lilly is fun because you can see in her that she WANTS clementine on her side, and throughout the season progressively realizes that its just never going to happen. both lilly AND clem come to the realization that this person they once considered family is beyond reason, their views too different, and so the fighting begins. their fight at the end of EP3 really feels like a "so its finally come to this" moment for both of them, their final fight. i always shoot her.

whats interesting about minnie is seeing her evolve from secondary antagonist in EP3 to straight up primary villain in EP4. the things shes done, the way shes been broken. she becomes her own downfall, seeing herself as someone beyond redemption. that this is just who she is now, its how things have to be. because if they didnt have to be this way? well then theres a lot more guilt she'd have to deal with. yelling at her in EP4 to just STOP FOR THE LOVE OF GOD YOU DONT HAVE TO DO THIS ANYMORE but she has been changed (in her eyes) so irreparably that she cant see any other option. and she progressively sees clem as the one who fucked everything up for her, instead of accepting that it could all finally be OVER. after killing sophie, the delta was all she had left. it cant have all been for nothing. and so she blames clem for taking it all away from her, even tho clem is just trying to protect her family. the family that used to be minnies. and so in her rage she gets bit. something else that she couldve avoided. but shes just too lost to her own downward spiral, unable to be reasoned with. by that point she just wants it all to be Over. and she wants to take tenn with her so she can finally pretend things can all go back to the way they used to be. her, sophie, tenn, and their parents all together again, where no more bad things have to happen to them. shes super tragic and i love her for that. and i love how she holds this dark mirror up to clem. clem struggles to let go of her past too, and the guilt she has over the things shes done and people shes hurt. and that if she cant learn to let go and move on she could get lost to it the same way minnie did. theres a reason clem is so quick to accept her fate, but shes finally able to leave that guilt holding her to her past behind in that barn. and she returns to ericson a much happier and lighter person, so much weight finally lifted from her shoulders. its finally over for her too

so yeah. my fave villains are definitely the S4 ones due to their nuance and layers. then the stranger, then carver, then joan. if i had to put david on this list he'd probably be above carver. but thats mainly because he has more nuance than carver ever did

#S4 addressing themes of rehabilitation makes me sooo happy #twdg #long as post be upon you #replies with lexi #incognito

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natsmagi · 4 months

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i was typing this in the notes to an ask but it gogt waaaay too long lol sorry. prefacing it with you know i love your artwork & i have nothing against what you choose to draw. also possibly worded weird cus i didnt write it in the sense of talking only to you alone

there is certainly this conflict between artists as random individuals and artists as a collective when it comes to how to approach this issue… as a hobbyist you can draw whatever you like but also when you have trends like a lack of fatness thats going to be disheartening too. i think the answer is getting more people into making art (& like general societal change of course since its an issue baked into bigotry.)

because as much as i agree with the sentiment of "there is significant under representation of fat women" (or characters in general) at the same time fandom is a hobby space and i dislike the notion of badgering individual artists to draw any particular thing especially when the source material does not have that thing. if you are looking for artwork of fat women thats great but i would not ever recommend something like enstars that has 1. no fat characters and 2. no women, barring a few exceptions. i think expecting to find fanart of fat women from a source entirely composed of thin men is unrealistic, even with the relative popularity of femstars.

plus there are other complications such as the typical modern fandom f/f scene sometimes being very strict and even vicious at times with their standards of what's enough diversity or what content is appropriate. ive heard a lot of anecdotes about people who WERE contributing to these things but whom were still harassed or got threats from other users over it not being good enough, and that's just not conducive to creating the environment or diversity you want. nobody is going to want to be in a fandom space where they have to walk on eggshells all the time. and i bring this up because of how you were clearly harassed by randos. accusing you of misogyny or shaming other womens' bodies as being "unrealistic" is not the way to go

the only reasonable solution i can think of to this is, again, to just encourage more artists to start drawing in the first place, or even better start contributing yourself. individuals should have the freedom to draw what they like without getting flamed for it AND people should be able to see themselves represented in artwork. i would like to see some more fat characters too, this is definitely something ive thought about before myself

(personally all the fat people i draw are ocs or portraits of people i know that i dont want to post online but maybe if i get some inspiration i will draw the long-sought chubby mugi myself. i am not super interested in femstars though so whether or not itd actually be fem mugi is up in the air. but all the talking here about this topic has had me thinking about following my own advice and putting what i want to see into the world.)

OUGHH THESE ARE ALL GOOD POINTS!! and i agree! the main thing we should be doing is ENCOURAGING people to add more diversity, not harassing them into it! people who only draw for fun arent really obligated to draw anything outside of their comfort zone, which again is why i think its better to simply uplift the idea of trying out new things and new appearances that you dont often draw

theres also SO MUCH room for more femstars artists too! and like ive said before if you wanna see something done right you gotta do it yourself. and i kind of like that. i like that everyone gets to craft their own little femstars variant of the enstars cast, and you can make them look however you want! and honestly? you SHOULD! seeing personal touches to designs always brings me joy, so even if you dont feel very confident in your art, if you have a specific vision for a character that you want brought to life please go ahead and draw it!! (or if you really dont want to you can always commission someone)

i also wanna highlight one of ur last points too bc yea. its unfortunate but often times whenever i see someone try adding diversity to their art for the first time they end up getting flamed because its not an accurate depiction of what they were trying to represent. and that really sucks! obviously we should strive to have accurate representation, but if its an artist that hasnt tried their hand on it before, ESPECIALLY a beginner artist, we shouldnt flame them for it. rather we should educate them on what went wrong and how they can improve for the future. these are people who actually WANT and are TRYING to add diversity to their art, but because in animanga circles theres a lack of education on how to draw more diverse features of really any kind. which is why trying to educate is far better than shaming. because if you shame these artists theyre gonna be too scared to try again, giving us less diversity once more

so yes basically what im saying is i want us all to encourage diversity and to help each other out by sharing resources and tips when it comes to drawing it!! one person is Obviously not gonna be able to do every single thing, which is why i want more people to pick up the pen and bring life to their visions!! also i really want more femstars food pelase pick up the pen i am a starved orphan and only femstars yuri can satiate me!!!!!!!!!

#long post #<--felt warranted KAHJSDFK #but genuinely though i want diversity to be requested and desired #and i want it to be done so in a positive and respectful manner towards hobbyists #if we're talking megacorps u can shittalk them all u want and send all the angry emails in the world #but for artists on the internet who are only here to have fun its important to remember to be kind and encouraging!#bc asking them for rep in a hostile manner is only gonna create negative associations #which. would be counterproductive #diversity is a wonderful thing so please do not make people resent it by being rude!!!!#that is not what we should strive for!!!!#ask

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andhaveapleasanttomorrow · 3 months

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the only reason i say the following (although embarrassing and most certainly being a bit too vulnerable for my usual liking) is because i realized i hadn’t made my sentiment ring true before, and i wanted to make sure i said it even slightly:

i personally find your ramblings as something comforting, in a certain way. if not comforting, then interesting. i like your way of viewing buildings and genuinely would want to talk with you more outside of this anon bubble which i hide under at times, but have a very difficult time navigating that confidently.. its to do with personal things, not relevant in this scenario.

anyway, what i mean to say is that um. you’re neat, and although less meaningful from a random person online, i would like to make note i like taking the few minutes out of my day to check in on your blog and see how you’ve been.

although its probably true (i say probably as i wouldn’t go back and check your entirety of blog history— although interesting, not my story to recall; you could have very personal things from back then.) you’ve been lamenting the same exact things for a long time, i don’t want you to think of it as exactly without value. obviously think whatever you want, i literally wrote this as anon and this could easily be written off as an insane persons ramblings, but i believe its quite nice you have an archive of your past self for such a long time.. depressing in some aspects if it relates to darker times, yes, but i think its worthy in the sense it documents how you may have grown or whatnot. or as you said, stayed the same.

just know that, even if insignificant on the surface, your decades worth of content is taking up an ethernet cable somewhere, and that even if it may not seem to have inherent value, it’ll always take up space somewhere in someones hard drive. im.. not sure if thats comforting or not, just know i meant it to lean more towards comforting and not existential. apologies if it comes off as the second one.

i.. feel as if ive lost my point i had in the beginning, besides the overarching theme of wanting you to know your words and insight are appreciated by someone somewhere, although not always verbally stated.

i realize this last part too will sound super fake; i sadly can’t help that much. its one of those things where it may be actual good advice but hearing it from a stranger on the internet makes it seem like BS, but i’ll say it anyway:

you aren’t alone. you’re like, uh, on the other side of the street or something. although we aren’t walking alongside one another i make notice of you & wave or whatnot. you’re seen and you’re existent, and i appreciate your existence! :-)

thats all. as always apologies for the length of this entry

thank you for the message I'm of course repeating myself but it means a lot when you say things like this + I remember them often I think the point of a lot of the things I do is to try to find a way to exist outside of my room without leaving it, so it makes me happy that I manage to persist for 1 or 2 people having the blog as an archive is part of the reason I've kept it for so long + also part of the reason it is a burden (I am of two minds on almost everything) thank you for watching over me from the other side of the street ^_^ although it would be nice to feel your presence less anonymously ... I'm not one to talk though I often feel like I'm embarrassing myself, so I end up keeping quiet. but I'll keep talking to myself if one other person wants to hear it

#ask #anon #long post

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yesimwriting · 3 years

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Crossing lines

General Kirigan/the darkling x reader

Summary: This was requested by my friend @vvsdiamond28 who also writes and has a really good kirigan x reader story up right now! The request was basically for a fic in which the reader is out wandering at night and runs into kirigan while he’s in the banya and then they get to talking and some other stuff before he admits to only trusting the reader and giving her his real name. This gets kinda steamy bc of the request and bc the story called for it lol but it’s not full smut bc i decided that it would be better to do that as a part 2 so that i could add some jealousy tension haha

a/n i think im back?? Ive been working on requests a lot and ive really enjoyed writing regularly again. A small side note, after rewatching revenge of the sith im kinda in the mood to try writing an anakin fic 😭 pls he was my OG fictional crush,, so either send help or a request for him or something, Anyways,, back to this fic--ahh i had fun writing it but i still feel awkward writing steamier stuff so be nice!!

Those that wander in the night, lost in uneasy thought--there’s probably a lot that can be said about them. But I can’t think of anything to be said about me. Nothing good comes from walking around a place full of powerful and tense people in the middle of the night. It wouldn’t take much effort to interpret my actions as suspicious, and yet I continue forward. I’m an idiot--just because I can’t sleep doesn’t mean I have to wander around campgrounds. My presence is barely tolerated here, I shouldn’t try backstroking in waters I can barely tread.

But still, I walk, eyes more fixated on the open night sky than anything else. The moon is as full as an overflowing glass, the stars twinkling as if desperate to compete with a light it will never be able to duplicate. I sigh, pressing my lips together. Maybe the stars and I have more in common than I thought. Normally, that would be a good thing.

Letting out a weary breath, I continue forward, away from the relative safety of the main tents. I’m still on the grounds, I’m approaching the border where the tents of higher ranking officials are. That should make me more nervous, but if anything it almost eases me slightly.

General Kirigan is not the type to be friendly, and yet our interactions have always been laced with a touch of intimacy I can’t quite explain. We’ve been alone together more and more frequently, and I think that’s how I like him best. It’s strange, but when we’re alone some of his sharpness dulls, leaving space for something I might consider humor or actual personality on anyone else. He probably speaks to many girls like that when they’re alone together--a fact I have to fight to remind myself of--but it’s the closest thing to friendship I have here. Maybe it’s foolish to hold onto that, but I can’t bring myself to release my grip on those sentiments. At least not yet, when the kind moments are still rare and fleeting and no line has been crossed.

The danger, however, comes from the prospect of not recognizing lines before they’re crossed. Even now, as I walk aimlessly in the night, pacing in hopes of exhausting my thoughts, I’m crossing lines in a much more literal way and even these are ill defined. I must be in new territory now, and even that I can only vaguely recognize because of the strangely humid scent that surrounds this area of the grounds.

I’m near the banya. I didn’t intend to wander here, but the thought of splashing water on my face is too tempting to pass up on. I move closer, finding a sense of peace in having some direction, even in a small way.

When the promise of water is only steps away, I begin to regret everything. There’s a figure in the bath. I freeze, ready to attempt to shrink away in hopes of disappearing before I’m caught. This could easily turn extremely awkward even though I technically haven’t done anything. Most people don’t bathe at this hour. Who bathes this late at night?

I keep my eyes on the individual, trying to make out who they are and how aware they are of their surroundings in the dim light. Pale skin, dark hair--unbelievably attractive torso. My eyes linger there longer than they should. I force my gaze upwards, towards their face as if that can erase my ogling. Embarrassment leaves my face burning--I’m not the ‘ogling’ type, and this person doesn’t even know I’m here. I keep my eyes on them as I step back, taking in unaware features as best I can in the dark.

I know them--I--Saints, it’s Kirigan.

Fantastic. Of course he has to be even more impossibly attractive while shirtless and wet. I turn my head upwards sharply, more desperate to not be caught than ever. I would never, ever recover from being caught. Whether he’d tease me or be angry with me, I don’t know. I also don’t know which option I’d prefer.

I step back again, my gait wider due to my urgency. Snap. The sound of both a twig and my chance of a stealthy escape being shattered. I cringe, craning my neck to the left in a desperate attempt to make it clear that I wasn’t watching him. I take another desperate step, ready to duck behind a nearby tree. Maybe he hasn’t seen me--maybe he’s distracted and assumed that some kind of rabbit or something passed by. He may not actively dislike me, but I’m not sure any semblance of favor he may have for me extends to this situation.

“Y/n.” His tone reveals nothing but his level of certainty. Ignoring him will only make me seem guilty.

I pause, keeping my gaze off of him. “Yes.” It wasn’t really a question, and yet I still answer it like one. “I was--I couldn’t sleep so I thought I’d get some air, and I was walking kind of aimlessly and I ended up here and I didn’t think anyone would be here.” Why do I feel like I’m making this situation worse? “I’m sorry--I’m gonna--I’m going to go now.” This is the kind of embarrassing moment that will come back to me when I’m trying to fall asleep at night. I know it.

“You know the polite thing to do after intruding is to make eye contact.”

I don’t think my face has ever felt this warm before. At least he doesn’t sound angry, but his voice doesn’t reveal that much. I raise my gaze carefully, turning my head slowly. “I didn’t mean,” I exhale slowly, “It wasn’t my intention to intrude.”

He straightens slightly at my words, exposing more of his chest. I stay still, eyes trained on his to avoid an accidental lapse. “You could make it up to me by offering conversation.” Kirigan’s tone is deliberate, his words measured and calm. I don’t speak, feeling like I’m being presented a test I don’t understand, but most of our conversations leave me feeling like that. “Only if you’re comfortable.”

And just like that, I’m backed into a corner. A challenge. To deny him now would be to expose the effect he has on me. My chin raises a fraction of an inch as I take in that assured half-smirk. “Why wouldn’t I be comfortable?”

Kirigan arches a dark brow, assessing my response. “Then sit,” his voice has not changed, “You want air and I want company.”

I don’t think anyone that looks as good as he does shirtless has ever had trouble finding company, especially with the smooth way he speaks. Despite this, I step forward to accept his challenge without calling him out on his coyness. Each step is the crossing of another invisible line until I’m near the water’s edge. I make sure to keep my nightgown at a respectable length as I sit down.

I make a point of extending my legs towards the water while leaning back so that I can’t be easily accused of being a coward. “I feel the need to warn you that I might not make particularly interesting company.”

He angles his head to the side slightly, drawing attention to his jawline and neck. I force my stare to focus on the water. “I’ve never found you uninteresting.”

There’s something resigned in the way he says this. On instinct, I look up, taking in the slight softening of his features. The release of his usual sternness only adds to his beauty, a fact that I’m already resenting.

“You may be the only one.” It’s not meant to be a deprecating comment, but I’m not sure my partial laugh softens my bitterness. I hope it does--I’d rather his interest than the interest of my entire unit.

Kirigan shifts forward, the water moving with him. “Do you think that any coldness you’re experiencing has to do with you?”

The question has me drawing my eyebrows together. What else could it be? I shrug, “I’ve considered it.”

He nods once, eyes hardening slightly. “Do you always have trouble sleeping?”

The personalness of the question shouldn’t surprise me as much as it does. Kirigan seems to only understand boundaries when he’s the one setting them. “Not really.” A partial lie--this time I’m glad I can’t quite bring myself to look at him. “It’s not uncommon for me, but it’s not something I deal with every night.”

I risk shifting my eyeline when I hear the sound of water moving. Kirigan’s now resting an arm on the rim of the pool, wet skin dangerously close to my ankle and lower calf. “It’s not always easy,” his voice is low now, “Being alone with your thoughts.”

That’s not the kind of reply I’d expect from him. I blink twice before turning to study his expression. I don’t think I’ve ever seen him seem so tired--so weary and human and in need of something. The line between his eyebrows and the far off quality of his eyes leave me with the strong desire to give whatever it is he needs to him. The urge to reach out, to touch him in hopes of breaking him free from his odd trance leaves my stomach knotted. That line is too clear to cross so recklessly.

I need to chase away the serious atmosphere he’s created. “Is that why you bathe so late at night?” I let myself smile, “To avoid thoughts?”

“I like the peace of it.” Something akin to amusement touches his words. “And for the record, little dove,” the nickname is pointed and earns him an eyeroll, “The warm water doesn’t exactly chase away thoughts so much as encourages others.” He pauses. “You understand, considering you can barely look at me.”

This is the most embarrassing thing to have ever happened. The suggestive jilt to his words has to be intentional. Damn him. I turn my head, forcing myself to meet his gaze. “I can look at you just fine.”

“And if I were a Heartrender and could hear your heartbeat your pulse would be normal?” The question is teasing, a small smile pulling at his lips.

The warmth in my face increases, spreading down my neck. Kirigan’s expression remains smug. “You’re not as funny as you think you are.”

“No?” He leans forward, angling his head so close to me I can faintly feel the warmth of his breath on my lower calf. “I find myself amusing.”

At least being around him like this is getting easier. I open my mouth, ready to provide some sarcastic comment I haven’t thought out yet. My mouth clamps shut on instinct when I feel his touch on my ankle. The faint contact quickly grows, his fingers brushing up my ankle and calf, leaving drops of cool water across my skin.

“What are you doing?” That’s a--a fair question, right? I’m not sure, rational thought slipping from me more and more with each passing second.

“Nothing, really,” his reply is quick. “Nervous?”

There is no way he doesn’t know what he’s doing. I roll my eyes, fighting against my instinctual fluster. “No,” a full lie, “You’re just getting me wet.”

“Barely.” When he’s not busy being brooding he’s not much better than an irritating child. He retracts his hand slowly, fingers grazing my skin slowly as he submerges his hand beneath the water. The loss of contact should feel like a victory. It doesn’t. “Y/n,” he shifts closer, back straightening.

There’s an odd seriousness to his demeanor that almost leaves me reeling. “Yes?”

He beckons me forward. I hesitate, but comply, letting myself shift closer to the water’s edge. Kirgan’s lips part, but no words leave him before he moves his arm, purposefully splashing water over my thighs and bottom of my nightgown. I let out an instinctively annoyed sound. “That is getting you wet.”

“Kirigan!” My tone is as menacing as I can make it, but he continues to grin. There’s such a lightness to the look I almost forget to be annoyed. Almost. “I should tell the entire Second Army how much of a child you are.”

My threat does nothing, his smile softening without fading. “They fear me too much for your stories to make a difference.” He says this flatly. “All of them except you.”

I don’t know if I’m supposed to make something of that comment. A brief moment passes in which I think his eyes come close to softening. Maybe that’s a side effect of seeing the world as you want. Wait...what do I want? Him? No, no, I can’t.

Okay, he’s objectively attractive and sometimes I think I may see more depth in him than he wants to be capable of. But that doesn’t mean I’m allowed to want anything with him. Even if he was trustworthy enough for me to be with him in any capacity...even casually, it could never happen. Nothing good could come from having relations with the highest ranked general and I doubt he’d ever want me like that. He likes to fluster people and I’m an easy target. I just accept it because being some level of entertainment to him is better than being nothing to everyone.

“I don’t think there’s much point in fear.” It feels like a fair answer. The fairest answer I can manage, anyways.

He sighs, the sound heavy. His hand stretches forward cautiously. I watch him and make no attempt to stop him from touching my lower calf. His fingers trace absentmindedly across the skin. “Of course you’d think that.”

Again, I don’t know what to make of his words. Or his actions. He couldn’t find anything wrong with me just slightly adjusting my position. It’d be a polite way to remind us both of the natural order of things. But then again, someone like him is allowed to be mad about anything. And I’m not sure I want to remind us of our place.

Actually, I’m completely sure that I want the opposite of that. But admitting that to myself is enough of a risk. I’ve already crossed thousands of tiny lines and what I want will require us to cross a thousand more.

“I’m a little surprised you’re not reminding me how foolish a notion like that can be.”

He lets out a tiny breath as he shifts even closer to me. “Maybe I’m enjoying your foolishness.”

“I’m not sure if I should take that as a compliment or the opposite.”

The slightest hint of a smile is visible to me beneath the moon’s glow. There’s something about darkness that adds beauty to things. I wait for him to reply, but instead of speaking his hand moves further up my leg. I struggle to hide my reaction to his long fingers trailing up my skin.

He’s touched me before, sure. Tiny moments in which he’d push a strand of hair out of my face or wipe at a bit of dirt on my cheekbone. More recently, he had gripped my hip firmly to guide me through a crowd of soldiers. He had been in a hurry, stealing me from a conversation with the only member of my unit that’s been somewhat friendly to me. It wasn’t serious--he had just been rushing me because he only had a minute between meetings and apparently he had too long of a day to not take a moment to speak with me.

“Are you alright, Dovey?” Normally, the nickname and all of its variations earns him an eyeroll. But everything is a lot less humorous with his hand half up my lower leg, leaving a trail of cool water wherever he touches.

His fingers press more firmly into my skin. “Yes, I’m fine--it’s just late.”

“Hm…” Kirigan breathes before tilting his head slightly. “You’re warm.” I stay silent as his hand shifts slightly. “Perhaps too warm.”

If I’m hot that has absolutely nothing to do with fever. “I’m fine, General, I promise.”

“Come closer,” he says, “It’ll take me no time to check.”

...A little too convenient. My nightgown is still embarrassingly damp from the last time I eased tonight. “Please tell me you don’t find me that naive.”

“Naive? No.” He lifts his hand slightly. “Warm? Yes.” I still don’t trust him. “I’m not going to do anything. I promise.”

His eyes are dark and the limited lighting of the moon doesn’t offer me much in my analysis, but what I can see makes him seem genuine. “Why do I feel like that’s not the first time you’ve had to say that?” Despite my comment, I move towards him.

The back of Kirigan’s palm is pressed to my forehead for less than a second. He brushes his hand down the side of my temple, rotating his wrist so that his fingertips can touch my cheek. His hand then continues to move down my jawline and then my neck...and then finally trails down my collarbone. I bite my tongue to avoid exhaling audibly at the contact.

“Warm,” he concludes with a tsk, and yet he doesn’t withdraw his hand. “Though that could just have to do with the climate.” His thumb slips beneath the sleeve of my nightgown. “Perhaps you could benefit from joining me.”

I bite my tongue to avoid letting out a surprised, embarrassingly enthusiastic squeak. I don’t know what’s gotten into him...maybe it’s the night air and the prospect of being fully alone. I should be strong enough to break whatever spell he’s starting to place on me. But I’m not. I’m really, really not.

He pulls on the sleeve of my nightgown slightly. “I’m…”

“Unless you’re nervous?” Another damn challenge. To shy away from this would be to expose myself. He tugs on the sleeve a little more assuredly, exposing my shoulder to the humid night. “Do I make you nervous?”

His voice comes out a shallow rasp. I feel it straight in my core. “...Not more than you should.”

“More than I should?”

Ugh--too honest. I let myself get distracted. It shouldn’t be too difficult to explain what I meant. He knows he’s feared. He wants to be feared. “I’m sure we’re both aware that there are a fair amount of cautionary tales revolving around you.”

His hand falls next to my lap. Oh? I didn’t expect to miss the contact between us so much. His expression seems to have fallen slightly as well. Was it my response to his question? It felt fair and straightforward without being too blunt. “And you believe every cautionary tale you hear?”

There’s something stiff about the way he asks the question. His moodiness is making me miss his touchiness even more. At least then I didn’t have to feel like I made a mistake. Did I say something wrong? “Should I?”

“It depends on whether or not you plan on being brave.”

“I told you...I don’t see much point in fear.”

“And yet you’re still there.” A bit of humor returns to his voice. “Why is that?”

Rolling my eyes, I shift forward, letting my legs dip into the water. This is as far as I should let this go. I’ve already lost too much more control. “Better?” He’s strangely tense again, a hint of something bitter playing at the smug look he tries for. “You alright?”

“Of course you’d ask me that.” He says this with a tired sigh. “You can never make things easy.”

“I don’t understand.”

He shifts backwards slightly. I can feel the distance between us like I’d feel a pebble in my shoe. “Do you believe all the stories about me?”

Is he still bothered by that? “I didn’t mean it as literally as you’re taking it. All I meant is that people are intimidated by you, but that’s not a bad thing. It’s the way things have to be, you’re the only Shadow Summoner in existence and the army needs you to be intimidating so that they can act on your guidance.”

“The way things have to be,” he echoes, his voice strangely weighted. “There’s a specific kind of loneliness that comes with being feared by everyone.”

Oh--I don’t know what I expected, but it wasn’t that. I don’t think I’ve ever seen him feel defeated like that. I reach for his hand without thinking, pulling his fingers towards my lap. “I don’t--I’m not scared of you.” It’s a weak attempt to comfort him, but it’s the only one I can think of. “That probably doesn’t mean anything, but I--”

His hand turns in my lap, squeezing the exposed part of my thigh. “It means something.” Kirigan’s voice has hardened in a different way. “You’re the only person I’m certain of.”

Everything in me seems to tighten at that. At the implication of something so personal from someone so closed off. “Kirigan, you don’t have to be as alone as you feel. You talk to me all the time and you do so in a way that makes it easy to forget the cautionary tales.” His hand moves further up my thigh. I fight as I try to remember our usual dynamic. “You’re the only one that talks to me like that.”

“Have you ever considered that maybe the others refuse to take to you because of the favor I’ve shown you? The instinct to stay away from me is strong enough to extend to those around me.” Kirigan’s hand moves higher up my thigh. “To be near me is to involve solitude.”

“I don’t care.” The answer leaves me too quickly. “Being near you is worth it.”

He leans closer before resting his chin on my knee with no hesitation. “Careful, you don’t understand the line you tread.” Kirigan places his hand more firmly between my thighs. “Or perhaps you do...perhaps you know what you want to cross.”

This time I can’t help the airy sigh that leaves me. Kirigan pushes against my thigh slightly, separating my legs. I feel his breath on my inner thigh before I know what’s going on. I can’t move, I can’t think, I can’t even breathe. That inability to do anything but feel my heart pound against my chest only worsens as I feel his lips press into the inside of my thigh. His lips trail up my skin before his teeth gently sink into the top of my thigh.

“Is the line you want to cross?” He breathes the question so softly I feel like I’m being coddled. Everything in me feels too hot to think of any kind of coherent response. Kirigan uses his free hand to pull the fabric of my nightgown as high up my thighs as he can from his position below me. “Or maybe this is the line you want to cross?” Kirigan pulls me forward so suddenly I let out a tiny gasp. I’m not fully on the edge of the banya. “Or perhaps this one?” He kisses the skin of my inner thigh gently. Each time I exhale too loudly, his teeth graze my skin. He gets harsher with each passing second. “Lay down.”

My body listens to him on instinct. How is this happening? How am I this powerless to fight against something that’s so clearly wrong? The sound of water shifting causes my entire body to tense. He’s pulled himself out of the water. Kirigan moves above me instantly, water dripping from his toned chest and dark hair and onto my still damp nightgown.

Before I can speak, he’s on me completely, his lips pressing against my jaw. He kisses down my neck, his teeth grazing against my skin sporadically. He pulls away from me by tracing his tongue across my collar bone. I let out something dangerously close to a moan. “Such pretty, little sounds.”

“Kirigan--”

“The only name I want you to hear from your lips is the only name that I’ve not given myself. The only name that holds meaning to me.”

His lips graze where my skin meets the hem of my now soaked through nightgown. I’m not sure the poor lighting is offering me enough coverage now. There’s no way the thin fabric leaves much to the imagination while being this wet. He kisses up my chest and neck until his lips reach the shell of my ear.

“Aleksander.” The name is grace in the form of a breath so soft it’s more like I’m feeling the name than actually hearing it.

He presses his lips against the spot on my neck directly beneath my ear. I exhale into the contact. “Aleksander.” As I test his true name on my tongue, his teeth dig into my skin much more harshly than before.

I let out a partial squeak at the sudden shift in pace as his hands grip my waist. “Say it again. Say my name again.”

He traces his tongue gingerly over the skin he just aggravated with his teeth before I can speak. The soothing sensation is so much I can barely find my voice. “Aleksander.”

His hand bunches the bottom of my nightgown, raising the fabric to my hips. “...Say it just like that.” Kirgan’s rough hand slips between the bone of my hip and the fabric of my hip. “Like I’m the only one that knows you like this.”

“Aleksander.” I breathe as he traces invisible patterns into my skin with his lips. “Aleksander.” Each use of his name earns me extra attention--a stronger hold on my hip, a more adamant nip at the base of my neck. I feel my need for him so heavily I swear it’s leaked into my bones. “Aleksander.”

When he pulls away, I fight the urge to whine. The night is still humid, but with the absence of his touch I feel like I’m shivering. He regards me silently for a long moment before shifting his weight again. I feel my heart stall in my chest as his hand softly brushes a strand of hair out of my face. He lets his hand linger there, at the apple of my cheek. The entire world seems to stall as he leans down, his hand cupping the side of my face as his mouth inches closer to mine.

“I can feel the fluttering of your heart.”

Any poor defense dies in my throat as his lips meet mine. He gives me no time to think about what’s happening as he presses into me even harder. Kirigan holds my face as his teeth graze against my bottom lip. My mouth opens slightly in surprise, giving him the opportunity he needs to slip his tongue into my mouth. His tongue slowly brushes against mine, coaxing me into total, delirious, compliance. When he starts to pull away, I react, my hands flying forward to grab his hair. He lets me get away with tugging him towards me, prolonging the kiss as he bites my bottom lip.

One of his hands leaves my face and travels up the hands holding onto his hair. He pulls me off of him easily, pinning both of my wrists above my head with one hand. “Easy,” Kirigan warns, “You’ve been such a good girl, let’s not ruin it before we’ve started.”

A tiny sigh leaves me. I can feel the pride he takes in that as his hand trails further down my body. His fingers ghost along the hem of my underwear teasingly.

“Is someone there?” I’ve never damned the voice of a stranger more.

Panic and dread roll in my stomach. I’m going to get caught like this, with my nightgown bunched at my hips beneath the General Kirigan. An unclothed, wet, General Kirigan. “I’m bathing.”

Okay...good...Aleksander spoke. Anyone with common sense would run at the thought of invading on Kirgan’s privacy. It’s a good thing that the soldier had the sense to linger behind a thicket of bushes. “Pardon General, but there’s been a crucial development. A new strategy should be thought of as soon as possible.”

No. No. The thought of losing contact so entirely, of having a moment that should have never happened be ripped from me before it’s even really happened is overwhelming. I feel my lips pull into a pout. Kirigan’s hand adjusts on me, his thumb pressing teasingly over where I’m neediest. I bite my tongue to avoid making an inappropriate noise.

“Five minutes--I’ll be in the strategy tent in five minutes.”

“I’ll tell the others, General.”

Great. I hear the stranger disappear, his feet crushing twigs and grass as he leaves us. Aleksander’s attention returns to me quickly. Disappointment swells in my chest as I take in the solemn look that crosses his features. His hand moves to my chin quickly before pulling me into another deep kiss. It’s too short lived.

“I have to go.”

Frowning, I lift my hand to trace my fingers up his arm. It’s softer than I should allow myself to be, but it doesn’t really matter anymore. Not when this is probably never going to happen again. “Do you?” I mumble to myself, half joking.

He sighs once, his thumb brushing against my cheek. “No pouting.”

Now that whatever little bubble we were in has popped, I’m capable of normal feelings. Including shame. “I am n--”

“Easy, little dove, I’ll remember all of this when I find you again.”

This...this is going to happen again? “You’re going to find me?”

“I haven’t yet heard your voice crack on my name as I undo you.” He punctuates the promise with a kiss to my jaw. “Again.” Another kiss. “And again.” Another brush of his lips as he finally pulls away. “And again.”

My breath catches itself in my throat as he moves off of me entirely. Damn whatever change in the war that’s pulled him away from me so suddenly. I sit up as he stands. I’m not sure where to look now that he’s not in close enough proximity to cloud my thoughts. I should leave as he dresses, but I can’t quite bring myself to. It doesn’t feel safe, not when the man that interrupted us could reappear at any moment. Not when I want to hold onto his presence like this as long as possible.

He squeezes my shoulder warmly as he passes before bending down to press one more kiss next to where his hand is.

“Soon,” he promises again.

General taglist: @theincredibledeadlyviper, @grishaverse7 @benbarnes-supremacy @tranquilitymoon @kaitlyn2907 @lunamyangel @christinawxxx @deceivedeer @real-mbappe @tonks33

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le-roi-des-bulgares · 3 years

Text

Voltaire writes back to Frederick...

... whom he hasn’t been in regular contact with for more or less four years.

Frederick had refused Voltaire’s asking for permission to go back to Potsdam in late 1753; avoided writing to him directly but let Abbé de Prades take up the correspondence; wrote and published a satirical ‘Portrait of M. de Voltaire’ in 1756.

Despite all the name-calling (fou, méchant, ~extraordinare~, etc.) to third parties, all the prayers to heaven that Voltaire never comes back, on Jan 19th 1757, Frederick wrote a ‘tender letter’ to Voltaire, days after Russia declared her entrance into the war.

At some point in summer 1757, with Frederick’s first major defeat at the Battle of Kolin, his mother’s death, the Prussian retreat from Bohemia, he fell into a deep depression (a haunting representation painted by Menzel) and meditated suicide. Either encouraged by Wilhelmine or voluntarily, he wrote to Voltaire, thus virtually reopened their regular correspondence.

The letter hasn't been found since (as the Jan 19th one, & many others from this period), but those survived still help construct a sense of it, as well as the brief personal warmth shown between Voltaire & Frederick - both said they couldn’t care less.

Here is a collection of some extracts which I like and hope can serve to paint this exchange of letters between F & V, with Wilhelmine as their mediator, in a somewhat clearer light. These are from letters written from July to December 1757 by Voltaire, Wilhelmine and Frederick. All originals are taken from Edition Garnier & Œuvres de Frédéric le Grand. Translations are mine. Emphasis in texts are made by me. my english and french are both not so good, but i try;; so feel free to critique my usage of words etc.!

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Frédéric au marquis d'Argens, (Leitmeritz), 19 juillet 1757.

Mon cher marquis, regardez-moi comme une muraille battue en brèche par l'infortune depuis deux ans. Je suis ébranlé de tous côtés. Malheurs domestiques, afflictions secrètes, malheurs publics, calamités qui s'apprêtent : voilà ma nourriture. Cependant ne pensez pas que je mollisse. Dussent tous les éléments périr, je me verrai ensevelir sous leurs débris avec le sang-froid dont je vous écris.

My dear marquis, see me as a wall breached by two years’ misfortunes. I am shaken on all sides. Domestic misfortunes, secret afflictions, public misfortunes, looming calamities: these are my food. Do not think that I have given away, however. Must that all elements perish, I will bury myself underneath their debris, with the cold-blood with which I am writing to you.

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[Frederic wrote to Voltaire at some point in mid-august 1757, sent to him at Les Delices in Geneva via Wilhelmine.]

De Margrave la Baireuth à Voltaire. Le 19 août.

Je suis dans un état affreux, et ne survivrai pas à la destruction de ma maison et de ma famille. C’est l’unique consolation qui me reste. Vous aurez de beaux sujets de tragédies à travailler. Ô temps ! ô mœurs ! Vous ferez peut-être verser des larmes par une représentation illusoire, tandis qu’on contemple d’un œil sec les malheurs de toute une maison contre laquelle, dans le fond, on n’a aucune plainte réelle.

I am in an awful state, and I will not survive my house and my family’s destruction. This is the only consolation left for me. You will have handsome subjects of tragedies to work on. O time! O morals! You will perhaps make tears pour down by an illusory representation, while people contemplate on the misfortunes of a whole house with a dry eye against that which, deep down, they do not have any real pity for.

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Voltaire à M. le Maréchal Duc de Richelieu. (a vous seul.) [Août 1757.]

Le roi de Prusse s’est remis à m’écrire avec quelque confiance. Il me mande qu’il est résolu de se tuer, s’il est sans ressource ; et madame la margrave sa sœur m’écrit qu’elle finira sa vie si le roi son frère finit la sienne.

The king of Prussia started to write to me with some trust again. He tells me that he resolved to kill himself if he is without resource; and madame la margrave his sister writes that she would end her life, if the king her brother ended his own.

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Voltaire à M. le Comte d’Argental. Aux Délices, 12 septembre.

Les affaires de ce roi, mon ancien disciple et mon ancien persécuteur, vont de mal en pis. Je ne sais si je vous ai fait part de la lettre qu’il m’a écrite il y a environ trois semaines : J’ai appris, dit-il, que vous vous étiez intéressé à mes succès et à mes malheurs ; il ne me reste qu’à vendre cher ma vie, etc., etc. Sa sœur, la margrave de Baireuth, m’en écrit une beaucoup plus lamentable.

Allons, ferme, mon cœur, point de faiblesse humaine.

The affairs of this king, my old disciple and my old persecutor, have gone from bad to worse. I do not know if I had told you about a letter that he wrote me about three weeks ago: I learned, said him, that you were interested in my successes and my misfortunes; it only remains to sell my life dearly, etc., etc. His sister, the margrave of Bayreuth, writes me a much more lamentable one.

Go, harden up, my heart, nothing of human weaknesses.

[note: the last line is a quote from Molière’s Tartuffe, Act IV, Scene III. vendre cher sa vie means to kill a number of enemies before one’s own death.]

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Voltaire à Madame la Margrave de Baireuth. Aux Délices, 29 août 1757.

Madame, j’ai été touché jusqu’aux larmes de la lettre dont Votre Altesse royale m’a honoré. [...] me sera-t-il permis de mettre sous votre protection cette lettre que j’ose écrire à Sa Majesté le roi votre frère ? [...] Je voudrais qu’il fût persuadé de son mérite personnel : il est au point que beaucoup de personnes de tout rang le respectent plus comme homme que comme roi. Qui doit sentir mieux que vous, madame, ce que c’est que d’être supérieure à sa naissance !

Madame, I was brought to tears by the letter Your Royal Highness honored me. [...] Will I be allowed to put this letter under your protection, which I dared write to His Majesty the king your brother? [...] I would like that he be persuaded of his personal merit: he is at a point where many people of all ranks respect him more as a man than as a king. Who would feel better than you, madame, what it is like to be superior to one's birth!

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Frédéric à la margrave de Baireuth, Naumbourg, 9 (septembre 1757).

Ma chère sœur, viens de recevoir votre lettre du 6, avec l'incluse de Voltaire. [...] Je vous prie de vous tranquilliser l'esprit; vos inquiétudes me sont précieuses, certainement j'y suis sensible, et je vous regarde comme le seul exemple d'amitié parfaite dans ce siècle corrompu; mais, en s'inquiétant, on ne change pas le destin, et dans des circonstances où l'on doit s'attendre à tout, il faut se préparer à tout événement.

My dear sister, [I] just received your letter of the 6th, with Voltaire's enclosed. [...] I beg you to reassure your mind; your worries are dear to me, certainly I am sensible of them, and I regard you as the only example of perfect friendship in this corrupted century; but, one does not change destiny by worrying, and in the circumstances where one must expect everything, we must prepare ourselves for all events.

[last time Frederick wrote ‘this corrupted century’ to Wilhelmine was in 1730, from Cüstrin.]

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La margrave de Baireuth à Frédéric, (15 septembre 1757)

[note that the letter F wrote to V, which Wilhelmine speaks of, was a reply to V’s late august response, likely dated around September 9th, sent in the same package to Wilhelmine.]

Mon très-cher frère, votre lettre et celle que vous avez écrite à Voltaire, mon cher frère, m'ont presque donné la mort. Quelles funestes résolutions, grand Dieu! Ah! mon cher frère, vous dites que vous m'aimez, et vous me plongez le poignard dans le cœur. [...]. Votre sort décidera du mien; je ne survivrai ni à vos infortunes, ni à celles de ma maison. Vous pouvez compter que c'est ma ferme résolution.

My dearest brother, your letter and that which you wrote to Voltaire, my dear brother, have almost made me dead. What fatal resolutions, great God! Ah! my dear brother, you say that you love me, and you plunge a dagger into my heart. [...] Your fate will decide my own; I will survive neither your misfortunes, nor those of my house. You can count on this being my firm resolution.

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Voltaire à Frédéric. Octobre 1757.

[...]; je vous ai appartenu, mon cœur vous appartiendra toujours.

[...]; I belonged to you, my heart will always belong to you.

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Voltaire à Frédéric. Octobre 1757.

Vous voulez mourir ; je ne vous parle pas ici de l’horreur douloureuse que ce dessein m’inspire.[...] Écoutez contre ces sentiments votre raison supérieure ; elle vous dit que vous n’êtes point humilié, et que vous ne pouvez l’être ; elle vous dit qu’étant homme comme un autre, il vous restera (quelque chose qui arrive) tout ce qui peut rendre les autres hommes heureux : biens, dignités, amis.

[...] Je suis bientôt dans ma soixante et cinquième année, je suis né infirme ; je n’ai qu’un moment à vivre ; j’ai été bien malheureux, vous le savez ; mais je mourrais heureux, si je vous laissais sur la terre mettant en pratique ce que vous avez si souvent écrit.

You want to die; I do not speak to you here of the painful horror this plan inspires in me. [...] Listen to your superior reason against these sentiments; it [would] tell you that you are not at all humiliated, that you cannot be; it would tell you that being a man, like any other, there would remain for you (whatever happens) all those things which can make other men happy: possessions, dignities, friends.

[...] soon I will be in my sixty-fifth year, I was born to be sick; I only have a moment [more] to live; I have been very unhappy, you know that; but I would die happy, if I left you on earth putting what you had so often written into practice.

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Frédéric à la margrave de Baireuth, Buttelstedt, 8 octobre 1757

J'ai ri des exhortations du patriarche Voltaire; je prends la liberté de vous envoyer ma réponse. Quant au stoïcisme, je crois en avoir plus que lui, et quant à la façon de penser, il pense en poëte, et moi comme cela me convient dans le poste où le hasard de la naissance m'a placé.

I laughed at the exhortations of Voltaire the patriarch; I take the liberty to send you my response. As for stoicism, I believe myself to have more than he does, and as for the way of thinking, he thinks in poet, and I think as suited to the post which the accident of birth placed me in.

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Frédéric à Voltaire, (Buttstedt) 9 octobre 1757.

Croyez que si j'étais Voltaire, Et particulier comme lui, Me contentant du nécessaire, Je verrais voltiger la fortune légère, Et m'en moquerais aujourd'hui. [...]

Believe me, if I was Voltaire, /and private person like him, /content with necessities, /I would see frivolous fortune flutter, /and make fun of it right at this moment.

[you send him an epistle, and say he thinks like a poet. fair enough]

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La Margrave de Baireuth à Voltaire. Le 16 Octobre.

Accablée par les maux de l’esprit et du corps, je ne puis vous écrire qu’une petite lettre. Vous en trouverez une ci-jointe qui vous récompensera au centuple de ma brièveté. Notre situation est toujours la même : un tombeau fait notre point de vue. Quoique tout semble perdu, il nous reste des choses qu’on ne pourra nous enlever : c’est la fermeté et les sentiments du cœur.

Overwhelmed by the ills of mind and body, I can only write you a little letter. You will find one enclosed [Frederick's letter from Oct 9th] which will reward you a hundred times more than my brevity. Our situation is always the same: a tomb makes our destination. Although all seems lost, there still remains for us things which cannot be taken away: firmness and sentiments of the heart.

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[Frederick won the Battle of Rossbach on November 5]

Voltaire à M. le comte d'Argental. Au Délices, 19 novembre.

[...] Luc n’avait pas vingt-cinq mille hommes, encore étaient-ils harassés de marches et de contre-marches. Il se croyait perdu sans ressource, il y a un mois ; et si bien, si complètement perdu, qu’il me l’avait écrit ; et c’est dans ces circonstances qu’il détruit une armée de cinquante mille hommes. Quelle honte pour notre nation !

Luc had no more than twenty-five thousand men, also they were exhausted by marches and counter-marches. He believed himself to be lost without resources a month ago; and so wholly, so completely lost, as he wrote to me; and it's under these circumstances that he destroyed an army of fifty thousand men. What shame for our nation!

[Luc: cul: ass. i.e. Frederick.]

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Voltaire à M. le comte d'Argental. 2 décembre.

Serait-il possible qu’on eût imaginé que je m’intéresse au roi de Prusse ? J’en suis pardieu bien loin. Il n’y a mortel au monde qui fasse plus de vœux pour le succès des mesures présentes. J’ai goûté la vengeance de consoler un roi qui m’avait maltraité ; il n’a tenu qu’à M. de Soubise que je le consolasse davantage.

Is it possible that people imagined I am interested in the king of Prussia? Good lord, I am very far from that. There is no mortal in the world who wishes more for success for the present situations [of France]. I tasted vengeance by consoling a king who had mistreated me; it only depends on M. de Soubise that I console him more.

[if we make him cry more i get to hug him more. O sweet vengeance!]

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[Frederick won the Battle of Leuthen on December 5]

Voltaire à M. le comte d'Argental. Lausanne, 20 décembre, au soir.

Quand les Prussiens tuent tant de monde, il faut bien aussi que je vous assassine de lettres, mon cher ange. Il est difficile que vous ayez su plus tôt que nous autres Suisses la nouvelle victoire du roi de Prusse, près de Neumarck en Silésie. Ce diable de Salomon est un terrible Philistin. La renommée le dit déjà dans Breslau ; mais il ne faut pas croire toujours la renommée.

When the Prussians are killing so many people, I must also assassinate you with letters, my dear angel. It is difficult for you to know sooner than us Swiss, about the new victory of the king of Prussia, near Neumarck in Silesia. This devil of a Solomon is a terrible Philistine. Legend says he is already in Breslau; but legend must not always be believed.

[in the 18th century philistine is perhaps used to say someone is merciless & bloodthirsty.]

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I had chosen not to include a sub-plot in which Voltaire tried to connect Marechal de Richelieu with Frederick to negotiate peace between France and Prussia - which was fruitless.

#long post #fritztaire #Wilhelmine of prussia #w威廉明娜真的倒霉要给这两个人当中介 #and she was visibly distressed #which must've struck a hard blow on her health #:(

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hermannsthumb · 4 years

Note

So I know you don't really write PRU things but how about PRU averting? Like when Newt starts to realize something is wrong he goes to Hermann for help?

this isn’t exactly what you wanted (at all) but the concept for this fic has been making me laugh all week. sometimes a bitch just wants to write a slightly unhinged jealous ex hermann unknowingly seducing aliens out of newt

safe for work except for some makeouts and implied past banging, but hermann tries very hard for it to not be. also ive definitely written similar plots before but who cares

—————

They send a ranger-in-training to break the news to Hermann. He’s not sure what they expected him to do, really, or how a teenager in oversized khakis might have prevented it in the first place. Rage? Cry? Break things? His relationship with Newton Geiszler has been highly publicized at this point, he supposes, down to every last gory detail; their scientific rivalry, their heated laboratory debates, their–er–rather dramatic love affair, which ended on a deeply sour note when Newton packed his bags and left Hermann for better funding and a swanky flat with more windows than walls seven years ago. As far as gossip is concerned, that is.

“Tomorrow?” Hermann says.

The ranger nods and says nothing. She’s awfully young–too young, Hermann thinks. And awfully afraid of him. Right, of course: he’s crotchety, daft old Dr. Gottlieb, notorious for his short temper and avoidance of socialization at all costs. He furrows his brow an appropriate amount and nods, as if to appear deeply consternated, or perhaps lost in brooding abstraction. “I see,” he says. “Hm. That wretched Dr. Geiszler, here, after so many years. The nerve of him. Thank you.”

The girl doesn’t move.

“Ah,” Hermann says. “Dismissed, I mean.”

Between the bare bones staff and Hermann’s incredibly low rank back in Hong Kong, he still hasn’t quite gotten used to the notion that he has things like interns and underlings again, let alone people who–when sent to deliver him a message, or paperwork, or lab equipment he submitted forms for–need to be explicitly dismissed to leave his presence. Newton would love it. Or, at the very least, he’d love teasing Hermann for it. (Control freak, that was what he’d call Hermann.)

Back in the safety and solitude of his private laboratory, Hermann brews a fresh pot of tea and mulls the news over. It’ll hardly be the first time Newton’s set foot at the Moyulan Shatterdome. It’ll hardly be the first time Hermann will have seen Newton since the Events of seven years ago, either. It will, however, be the first occasion on which the two collide: Newton always seems to schedule his routine Moyulan visits when Hermann is tucked safely away in some conference or council in some other bloody country, leaving their paths to cross at the most inane social events, banquets and fundraisers and black tie occasions that leave Hermann stifling under his collar and his leg aching from the strain of standing for so long.

Their words to each other in such situations have always been terse, brief, polite. Newton, after all, is a very important (and very rich) man these days, and he has plenty of elbows to bump and high society buggers to flatter without Hermann getting in his way. It’s pleasantries, is all. Lovely to see you, Dr. Geiszler. How’s work, Dr. Geiszler? The champagne is excellent, isn’t it, Dr. Geiszler? By Jove, it’s maddening. Just once Hermann would like to shout and snap at him like the good old days, to grab hold of that stupid bloody tie and shove him against a wall and kiss him, or bite him, or do anything that isn’t smile and pretend to care when he mentions that–that Alice floozy he’s shacking up with. And now, with Newton finally giving Hermann a window to meet in his own territory…

Hermann keeps a small volume of Newton’s early research on his desk–compiled long before he even knew the man–and he takes it out now, slipping a well-worn polaroid out from between its pages and propping it against his tea mug. Newton smiles out at him. “Horrible little man,” Hermann says, lovingly, and gently brushes his index finger against that handsome face.

He feigns a stomach bug to clock out of work early–fooling no one, of course, but his staff chalks it up sympathetically to the prospect of seeing his notorious ex tomorrow and says nothing–and makes a mad dash into town for a haircut and manicure. After some consideration, he pops into a clothing store for a new button-down, too. A nice one. One that fits him well. (You have a hot bod, dude, Newton would always say, you should be flaunting it.

No, no raging, or crying, or breaking things. It’s been seven years since Newton walked out on Hermann for a cushy job and designer suits, and Hermann has exactly one course of action in mind: winning him back.

——

Newton is not exactly as Hermann remembered. The changes in him are noticeable, and–for the most part, barring the loss of his glasses and personal sense of style–Hermann feels entirely neutral about them: hair more neatly tamed, stubble more neatly shaved, body ever-so-slightly more toned. Hermann seems to recall Newton saying something about CrossFit or some sort of damned exercise bike he bought at the last banquet they attended–lost ten pounds this past month! New Year’s Resolution, you know, ha, gotta stay in shape for Alice (and this was the point at which Hermann clenched his champagne flute so tightly it burst, and he excused himself to find a napkin with which to tend to his bleeding and a tall glass of whiskey from the open bar with which to tend to his agonies). Whatever it is, it seems to be working.

He manages to lure Newton out from under the thumb of his boss with vague claims of research, though Newton is not happy about it. “I got shit to do, man,” he complains. His eyes are inscrutable behind his expensive sunglasses. “It’s just not a good time. Busy, busy, busy, you know.”

They’ll have the laboratory to themselves, even more so than usual. I’ll need to have a few private words with Dr. Geiszler, Hermann had ominously announced to his staff that morning, and they’d all looked at each other in excitement. An infamous Geiszler-Gottlieb row! Hermann locks the door behind them.

“You poor dear,” Hermann says. “Running yourself ragged. You must be exhausted.”

Newton shrugs. “I am a little. I guess.” He shrugs again, and this time preens a little with it. Good: Hermann wants him nice and flattered. “It’s hard work being as important as I am, you know.”

“I imagine,” Hermann coos sympathetically. He brushes his hand across Newton’s shoulders, then nudges him at the small of his back towards his desk. “Please, Newt, I insist you have a seat. Would you like some coffee?”

“I mean, if you’re offering,” Newton says, waving him off.

The instant coffee is located on the middle shelf of Hermann’s bookcase, between a dusty variety box of Twinings and an elaborate kaiju action figure Newton left in their apartment when he walked out. Hermann spoons some into a chipped blue mug and watches Newton through the man’s reflection on the kettle. He leans back in Hermann’s desk chair; he rolls his shoulders; he pops open a button on his maroon suit coat; he spies something propped up on Hermann’s desk, and picks it up. The polaroid. Hermann ducks his head to hide his smile.

“Good times, huh, dude?” Newton says. He waves it in the air.

“Mm,” Hermann says.

He hands the mug of coffee over to Newton, who’s yet to put down the polaroid. Milk and plenty of sugar. Exactly the way Newton always used to take it. “There we are, dear,” he says. “Are you hungry? Might I get you anything to eat? I’ve plenty of biscuits, and, er...” He casts a guilty glance around the mess of his workspace. “...Oranges.”

“No thanks,” Newton says, but it’s vague, unconvincing. His eyes are locked on the photograph. “Good times,” he repeats.

“Nothing to eat at all?” Hermann says.

Newton shakes himself. “Nah,” he says, and pats his stomach. “On a diet. You know, for Alice.”

Ah, of course; Alice. The mystery woman Hermann despises the very existence of. For years after Newton first broke the news to Hermann he was seeing someone new, Hermann used to pour over magazine articles and gossip sites for even a glimpse of what she might look like (and for the chance to do something cathartic, like crop her angrily from a photograph with Newton or scribble over her face with a Sharpie). Probably horrendously ugly; possibly blonde; undoubtedly lacking taste, and humor, and any other sorts of qualities a mate worthy of Newton ought to possess. At the very least, Hermann knows she isn’t at all supportive of Newton in the way she should be. Every banquet and fundraiser, she’s too busy to come, every dinner invitation Hermann finally accepts so he may properly hate the woman, she must cancel at the very last minute due to some strange illness or another.

Privately, Hermann thinks she feels threatened by him. As she should be. He and Newton have been in each other’s heads, after all, wrote letters in their youth, shared a laboratory for years, shared a bed for longer than that. It’s a simple fact one will ever know Newton like Hermann knows him.

“Of course,” Hermann says, with icy kindness. “For Alice. How is she these days? I was ever so put out when she caught–what was it–influenza, yes, that night we were meant to dine together. And the time before that, with pneumonia. And laryngitis before that. Terrific bloody coincidences, aren’t they.”

(Sorry, dude, Newton said over the phone, not sounding very sorry, but rather quite distracted. She was probably in the room, egging on his lies. She's sick. Can’t see you after all. Rain check?)

“Yeah,” Newton says. He’s started to shake his leg up and down, a nervous tic Hermann is all too aware of, seeing as he’s picked it up himself after their drift. Along with an annoying tendency to hoard sentimental rubbish. “Coincidences. If I’m being honest, Hermann–I’m not too keen on you two–well.” A strange look crosses his face, replaced in a blink of an eye with a toothy smile. “Old flame and the new flame, it’d be awkward for everyone, y’know?”

“Especially for her, I’d imagine,” Hermann says, and then he swings himself down into Newton’s lap.

Newton goes very still; the photograph slips from his fingers and flutters to the floor. “Hermann?” he squeaks.

Dropping his cane, Hermann nuzzles his face into the crook of Newton’s neck and breathes deeply; the Newton of his memories smells of burnt coffee and the sharp tang of preservation chemicals, but the Newton of now smells more of expensive cologne than anything else. Hermann can’t say he likes it much, but he presses a small kiss there anyway, marveling at the lack of the scratchy stubble he remembers so well. “What–what are you doing?” Newton says.

Another kiss. Hermann slips a hand up to caress Newton’s jaw, and Newton shivers. “I should think it’s obvious,” Hermann says. “Mm. Come on, now, love, I know I can’t be the only one of us who’s been aching for this.”

“It’s,” Newton stammers, “I,” and his sturdy fingers grip Hermann’s waist, though he makes no move to shove him away. In fact, he only draws him closer. Marvelous. “I’ve got–someone, dude,” he says, gazing at Hermann between heavy eyelids. “Alice. I have–”

Hermann kisses him, pouring into it every ounce of longing he’s felt for the last seven years, and Newton melts against him with a moan. “But does she make you feel the way I do?” Hermann murmurs.

“Uh,” Newton says.

He swipes his tongue into Newton’s mouth, enjoying the sharp jolt that shoots through Newton when he brushes against his own tongue, and pulls back with a small bite at his bottom lip. Newton always liked when Hermann kissed him messily. “Do feel free to touch me,” he says.

Newton does: one hand leaves Hermann’s waist and inches up his side instead, pausing to shove one half of his lab coat off, then the other. The coat slips to the floor as well. Newton splays five fingers over Hermann’s right pectoral. “Nice shirt,” he says, sounding rather dazed. “Good color on you.”

“I’d hoped you like it,” Hermann says happily. “Remember what you always used to say, about flaunting it? I thought it was time I’d take your advice.”

“I do,” Newton says. “I do remember. Ha.” His face splits into a grin, one of the first truly Newton-esque ones Hermann’s seen on him in years, and Hermann feels a small flare of triumph. He catches the hand at his chest and draws it to his mouth, brushing a kiss over the knuckles. Newton’s tattoos, vibrant as ever, poke out from beneath one maroon sleeve.

Hermann remembers kissing those tattoos. He remembers tracing the shape of red-yellow waves with his fingertips, of pinching the eyes of the great kaiju splashed across his chest, of teasing Newton for his rather unadorned arse and how pale it was in comparison to the rest of him. You’re one to talk, buddy, Newton would say, and he’d deliver a playful smack to Hermann’s, all skin and bones, dude, I think I bruised my hand. He used to like to keep his glasses on in bed so he could see Hermann. Make sure it’s actually happening, he’d say. His sunglasses are folded uselessly on Hermann’s desk. “I could make you so loud,” Hermann says. “We’d get noise complaints. Remember?”

Newton nods, eyes fixed on the knuckles Hermann kissed.

“I knew exactly where to touch you,” Hermann says, dropping his voice, “and how to touch you. I still do, Newton.” Newton dissolves into whimpers when his neck is kissed, a certain spot by his left thigh pressed on with a thumb; when being made love to, he likes his sides stroked, fingers pressed against his tongue; when doing the love making, he likes his hair pulled, nails raked across his back.

“Please,” Newton says, his voice cracking. “Can you–?”

Hermann shoves that ugly maroon jacket to the floor, then winds that ugly tie around his fingers and gives Newton a sharp tug. Newton moans, twice as loud as before. “Yes, darling, of course.”

They kiss, Hermann making quick work of the buttons of Newton’s shirt, Newton seemingly too shy to do anything beyond grip Hermann’s shoulders. A pink blush is spreading from the tips of his cheeks down to his neck. It’s very sweet. “Hermann,” he says.

“Mm?”

Newton wets his lips. “You like when I do this,” he says, and gives Hermann’s ear a little tug.

(They’re so big, Newton would say, it’s adorable, you’re adorable, and Hermann would swat him away, but then Newton would kiss the shell of his ear, bite his earlobe, and Hermann would gasp, and sensitive! Newton would say, adorable, absolutely adorable.)

“They’re sensitive,” Newton says. “You like when I kiss them.” He grins again, though it slips away after a moment. “I think they’ll be looking for me soon.”

“You are so terribly important, after all,” Hermann says. “It’s a very good thing I’ve locked the door. I haven’t finished having my wicked way with you yet.”

This time, Newton laughs, though it’s an uncertain little thing. “Listen,” he says, strangely urgent, and he squeezes Hermann’s arm. “Don’t let me leave, okay?” Then he shakes his head. “Actually, no. Take me home with you. Away from–from work. And Alice. Yeah. Let’s go now.”

This is unexpected, though Hermann cannot deny it’s not exactly what he hoped would happen when his foolproof plan of seduction worked. He’s suddenly very pleased he made a few more stops after picking up his new shirt: first for a very expensive bottle of wine and the makings of a dinner the Newton of ten years ago loved, the next a rather discreet one for the sort of supplies they’d need to, er, take this one step further. “Oh, yes,” Hermann says. “Oh, darling, absolutely. Er–now now?”

“Now,” Newton says. He plants a series of discoordinated, rapid-fire kisses across Hermann’s mouth and chin. “Now,” he repeats. “Keep talking to me.”

“About what?” Hermann says, frowning.

“Anything,” Newton says. “And touch me. Keep touching me. Hermann–when we get there, I have to tell you–”

“Alright, Newton, alright,” Hermann says. He did forget how needy Newton could get. He’s also missed it. He strokes back some of Newton’s neat hair, gropes around for his cane, and eases himself to his feet with a small groan. (He’s not quite as young or agile as he used to be.) Newton immediately springs to his own feet and latches onto Hermann’s arm. He's not merely needy tonight--a bit on edge, too, it seems. “Off we are, then. Be a dear and get my coat for me.”

#newmann #maria's fanfiction tag #Anonymous

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chipper9906 · 3 years

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Bound To You - Chapter 3: Internal Talks

<--- Previous Chapter

WARNING: SPOILERS FOR SEASON 15

NOTE: Pairings and Ratings Will Change As Story Is Updated

Pairings: Castiel/Dean Winchester, Eileen Leahy/Sam Winchester

Rating: General Audiences

Chapter Word Count: 6,133

Overall Word Count: 17,730

Status: Multi Chapter Fic - In Progress (3/?)

Chapter Preview:

“You know, just once it’d be nice for the Universe not to screw us over. You’d think we’d earned a break by now-,”

Dean was interrupted by a splash of holy water hitting his face, about half of it getting into his mouth. He scrunched his eyes shut against the onslaught of water, swinging his mouth closed and leaning his head to the side to spit the holy water onto the floor.

“Fair enough…” Dean mumbled, pulling up the bedsheets and drying off his face. “Pretty sure soaking a cripple on his first day earns you a one-way ticket to Hell, Sammy.”

Link To Fic

Click Below To Keep Reading

Character Key For Telepathic Conversations

'Italic Text' - Castiel

'Bold Text' - Dean

* * *

Seeing his older brother like this was heart-breaking.

They had both had their fair share of injuries. A few stints in hospitals across the country over the years. Of course, the introduction of Castiel into their lives had dramatically reduced those visits, having their own personal angel who was willing to heal up any scrape or… potentially life-threatening injuries.

Dean had always been a pillar of strength in his life. Only in rare times did he ever see his brother look so broken, so dependant on another. Now, seeing his frail body in this hospital bed, surrounded by multiple beeping machines with countless wires coming out of him… it was a sight he almost couldn’t bear to see.

Eileen’s gentle touch on his shoulder pulled his gaze away from Dean. He turned on the uncomfortable plastic chair to face her, giving her an appreciative smile as she handed him yet another cup of coffee.

“Are you sure you don’t want to try and get some sleep?” Eileen asked him, rubbing her hand across his back soothingly. “I can stay here and watch over him.”

“I’m okay,” Sam brushed off her concern, though made sure to brush her arm by his back to show his thanks for her worry. “I don’t want to leave him yet… I’ll have to get back to the bunker soon anyway to pick up some stuff for him. Ah, and... I’ll have to try and find a pet-friendly motel nearby…”

Eileen’s hand paused on his back. “…Why?”

“Oh, right, I forgot to tell you,” Sam said with an amused huff. “We, uh- Dean actually found this dog after… after Chuck wiped everyone off the board. She got wiped away too shortly after because Chuck… well, he’s Chuck. She was brought back when everyone else got brought back and… Dean couldn’t leave her there.”

“Didn’t you say Dean wasn’t really a fan of dogs?”

“I think Miracles an exception. Don’t tell him I said this, but… I think Miracle is the only thing keeping Dean together after what happened to Cas. He’s not doing great even with her, but if she wasn’t here with us…” Sam closed his eyes, shaking his head as the awful memories flooded back. “You didn’t see him when Cas died right as Jack was being born. Mom was gone, and we had to see Lucifer shove that angel blade right through Cas, and… he couldn’t move. He dropped down by Cas’s side, and… He wasn’t the same until Jack brought Cas back. It was scary to see him that way. The anger I could deal with, you know? It was how Dean coped, finding something to blame, and… he directed all that at Jack. But when he wasn’t angry… it was like a part of him died with Cas. Like he wanted to just… give up.”

“They really mean a lot to each other, don’t they?” Eileen said wistfully.

“You have no idea,” Sam chuckled. “According to Cas, he and Dean ‘share a more profound bond’.”

“A what?”

“Cas’s words, not mine,” Sam raised his hands in the air with another short burst of laughter. “I assumed it was because Cas rescued Dean from hell, but Cas did the same for me and we never formed a ‘profound bond’ like Cas has with Dean.”

“If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you sound jealous,” Eileen teased him, giving his shoulder a light squeeze with a playful smile.

"Oh, trust me – I’m glad Cas directed most of his attention towards Dean. Do you have any idea the number of times I’ve been caught in the middle of the conversation between the two of them with just their eyes? Cas got better over time, but the staring? He was always kind of awkward with stuff like that, but with Dean… they somehow managed to talk to each other entirely with looks.”

“It makes sense,” Eileen noted. “Cas probably learned a lot about humans from Dean. He’s probably able to get a better read from Dean on how he feels by looking at him than just listening to him. I know I haven’t known Dean as long as you guys have, but I get the feeling Dean isn’t the kind of guy to tell the truth when it comes to how he feels?”

“It’s a rare occasion…” Sam mumbles. “I made the mistake of asking him what actually happened to Cas. He told me and Jack that Cas died to save him, but that was it. I know it’s painful for Dean, but… I miss Cas too… He’s one of my oldest friends, and I don’t even know how he died.”

“What happened when you asked?” Eileen pried.

“Just repeated what he told me before. Said ‘Cas saved my life, Sammy. That’s all you need to know’. Next morning, I found him slumped over the library table with books about the afterlife splayed about the place and an empty bottle of scotch in his hands.”

“Afterlife? You think he was trying to find a way to get Cas out of the Empty?”

“Must have been. I’d done the same… but there’s barely anything about the Empty in any of the documents the Men of Letter’s keep. It’s been so unknown for so long there’s just… nothing about it anywhere.” Sam told her, a hint of frustration creeping into his voice.

“Hm… I know if our roles were swapped, and it was you trapped in that place? I don’t think I’d be coping much better than Dean is.”

Something about the sentiment behind Eileen’s words sparked a realization within Sam’s mind. His gaze switched from Eileen to his brother, his face slipping into an expression of pity as all the strange moments between his best friend and his brother connected in his mind. “Oh, Dean… you’re never going to get over him, are you?”

“No, he won’t,” Eileen said, her words getting Sam to turn and face her again. “What Dean’s lost… you never really get over it. The pain never truly lessens, but… you get used to it.”

* * *

Sam had been slumped over in his chair, dead to the world when he was woken abruptly by Eileen roughly shoving his shoulder.

“Sam!” She called his name urgently. “Sam, it’s Dean! I think he’s waking up.”

Sam snapped back into consciousness at that, blinking rapidly to adjust to the bright lights of the hospital room. His gaze landed on Dean’s form, his breath hitching in surprise as Dean’s eyes flutter open. He sees the moment Dean truly comes to, eyes widening in panic at the unfamiliar surroundings. Dean raises his hand to his nose immediately, very nearly tugging out the IV line in his hand as he attempted to remove the nasal cannula wrapped around his face.

The doctor from before was by Dean’s bedside before Sam could even fully stand from his chair, who was forced to stand awkwardly behind the Doctor as he looked over Dean.

“Mr. Winchester? I’m Dr. Sullivan, I’m a surgeon here at Aultman Hospital in Canton, Ohio,” Dr. Sullivan told Dean as he gently pried Dean’s hands away from the fragile medical equipment. “Do you understand what I’ve told you so far?”

Dean’s panicked eyes fixated on Dr. Sullivan, giving a quick nod of his head at the doctor's question.

“Where’s Sammy?” Were the first words Dean croaked out.

“Your brother is right here, Mr. Winchester,” The doctor stepped off to the side, placing Sam into Dean’s line of vision. The panic visibly dropped away from Dean’s expression the second he caught sight of Sam. Then, Dean’s gaze slid over to where Eileen hovered nearby Sam, his face quickly twisting in confusion as he took her in.

“Now, I just need to perform a few quick checks on you, Mr. Winchester.” Dr. Sullivan continued on, not privy to the dumbfoundment Dean was currently trying to work through. “Can you tell me your name?”

“Dean,” Dean answered, knowing there was no point in giving a fake name seeing as the Doctor already knew his last time. “My name is Dean Winchester.”

“Fantastic,” Dr. Sullivan commented with an encouraging smile. “And we’ve already gathered that you know your brother and what his name is, so I guess we can skip that one. Do you remember what happened to you?”

Dean turned anxious eyes over to his brother. It was very unlikely that Sam told the Doctor what actually happened. Otherwise, the Doctor wouldn’t be holding together his professionalism quite as well as he is right now.

“I was attacked,” Dean went with something safe. “I… there was this metal bar… it went through me.”

“Good,” Dr. Sullivan said. Dean almost laughed. How was that good? “How do you feel?”

“Like I got impaled by a metal pole…” Dean responded dryly, wincing at the pulsating ache that sat within his back.

The Doctor cracked a sly smile at Dean’s comment, pulling a clipboard off the end of Dean’s bed. “Sense of humor’s good, a good way to cope. But to be more specific Mr. Winchester, I need you to rate your pain on a scale from one to ten. One being mild discomfort and ten being the worst.”

“Probably around a six,” Dean answered truthfully. Sure, the ache in his back was painful, but he knows it could be worse.

“Okay…” Dr. Sullivan mumbled under his breath as he scribbled away at his clipboard. “Your IV drip is attached to a steady supply of morphine right now; It should help to dull some of the more intense pain, but the effects may begin to wear off after some time. If the pain gets worse, let us know and we’ll up the dose for you.”

“Eh… I’ve been through worse, Doc.” Dean let his head drop back into the scratchy hospital pillow, closing his eyes against the bright ceiling lights.

“I’m not too sure I believe that Mr. Winchester. Though I can tell you you’re a lucky, lucky man.”

“Yeah? I don’t feel too lucky…”

“I’m not sure what else you’d call surviving a rebar to the chest other than ‘lucky’. How it missed all of your organs…” The doctor’s voice trailed off as he shifted off to a table to the side, plucking up a pair of latex gloves and snapping them on his hands. “Now, Mr. Winchester… during your surgery, we discovered some severe damage to your thoracic lumbar-,”

“My what?” Dean interrupted Dr. Sullivan.

“It’s the section of your spine just below your shoulder blades, running to the center of your back,” Dr. Sullivan answered. “When the rebar entered your back, it was forced in between two of your vertebrae. Those two were shattered, and a few above and below were fractured and pushed out of alignment. The damage to the vertebrae themselves, we were actually able to fix for the most part with the help of some titanium pins. Unfortunately, we noticed some evidence of trauma to your spinal cord.”

Sam’s heart twisted in sympathy at the way his brother's face fell. Perhaps Dean had been expecting to hear this, for he didn’t look shocked by the doctor’s words, but he most definitely looked crushed.

The doctor peeled back the sheets covering Dean, exposing his lower body to them. The doctor stepped down to the end of the bed, pressing a glove covered finger into the middle of the underside of Dean’s foot. “Can you feel this, Mr. Winchester?”

Dean couldn’t only weakly shake his head side to side, not trusting his voice to keep steady right now. He followed the doctor’s movement as he straightened back up, taking a step forward and placing a hand over Dean’s lower leg, giving his calf a gentle squeeze. “How about this?”

Again, Dean shakes his head no.

“Can you try moving your legs for me? Nothing too strenuous, just a small shift to the side will do.”

Dean stared down at his legs lying motionless on the hospital bed, certain he had never concentrated on a part of his body so hard in order to get it to move. But… no matter how hard he tries to get his legs to move… they don’t. Nothing happens, not even a twitch of his muscles. They just… lay there.

Dean doesn’t have to say anything for them to know he couldn’t do it. His face said it all.

“I’m going to touch your upper body now, okay Mr. Winchester? We just need to get an idea of where the paralysis starts.”

Paralysis. That single word bounced around in Dean’s skull. It… it couldn’t be possible. That happened to other people. It… it couldn’t happen to him, could it?

Dean’s thoughts are interrupted by the doctor’s prying fingers pressing against his ribs. Dean instinctively hisses at the pain – healed, but still sore- raising an arm to swat away the Doctor’s hand.

Wait a minute… He could feel that.

“Well, Mr. Winchester, it seems you are just full of surprises,” Dr. Sullivan said with a pleased smile. “We assumed that, with the damage, you would have lost all feeling below the injury. Seems like you still have some sensation of touch in your upper body, and we’ve already seen that you still retain full control of your arms. I think we’re well past calling you ‘lucky’. It’s a damn right miracle.”

“And what about my legs?” Dean couldn’t help but ask. “Will they… will they be like this forever? Could they heal?”

Doctor Sullivan sighed, peeling the gloves off his hands. “I want to be honest with you here; it’s very unlikely for you to regain feeling in your legs. I’m not one to say never however, and with the rapid advances of modern medicine, we really never know. But I also don’t want to give you false hope, Mr. Winchester.”

“So, this is it?” The defeated tone in Dean’s voice crumpled what was left of Sam’s strength. “I can’t walk?”

“For the time being… no. I’m sorry, Mr. Winchester. I truly am,” Dr. Sullivan shifted his sympathetic expression over to Sam and Eileen, giving them a respectful nod as he began shuffling over to the exit of the room. “I’ll be back later to run some more tests. I’ll give you three a moment.”

“Thanks, Doctor,” Sam just about got out before Dr. Sullivan slipped out of the room. Dean was staring dejectedly down at his legs, willing them to suddenly fix themselves and start moving again. Sam shot an anxious look over to Eileen, who looked torn between comforting Dean or comforting Sam.

“…You okay, Dean?” Sam asked, taking a few awkward steps closer to his brother’s side. The glare Dean shot up at him answered his question in more ways than words could. The glare quickly dropped from Dean’s face, crumpling in on himself, trying to hide away from his brother’s woeful gaze.

“I’ll be fine,” Dean assured them, putting on a clearly fake smile. “I’ll get used to it… ‘s gonna take some adjusting, is all.”

“Do you need anything?” Eileen offered timidly, hanging by Sam’s side. “Some water, maybe?”

“Could use a stiffer drink than that,” Dean joked. “Could also use an explanation as to how you’re here? You were gone when Chuck snapped everyone away.”

“Well…” Eileen said uncomfortably, sharing a worried look with Sam. “I don’t actually know…”

“It’s one of many things we’re trying to figure out. Shortly after I got you here, Eileen was dropped back where she was.” Sam said.

“What, two weeks after everyone came back?”

“Seems like it,” Sam said.

Dean leaned his head back, closing his eyes with an exasperated sigh. Sam took the opportunity of Dean averting his eyes to reach into his pocket, pulling out a metal flask and quietly unscrewing the lid.

“You know, just once it’d be nice for the Universe not to screw us over. You’d think we’d earned a break by now-,”

“Fair enough…” Dean mumbled, pulling up the bedsheets and drying off his face. “Pretty sure soaking a cripple on his first day earns you a one-way ticket to Hell, Sammy.”

Before Dean could crack another joke, Sam had slid the angel blade out of his pocket, advancing towards Dean. He could see the moment Dean recognized what was in his hands, eyes widening in alarm as Sam moved closer.

“Woah, Woah, wait – Sammy!”

Sam didn’t let him say anything else, He grabbed his brother by the arm, pulling it straight and slicing across the tender skin. To Sam’s horror, the cut that appeared quickly flared with a bluish light, stitching up the small gash instantaneously. Sam’s eyes flickered up to see that same blue light appear in Dean’s eyes, completely overtaking the green of his irises until all Sam could see was that dazzling blueish white light.

“Sam, stop!” Dean’s posture had changed completely. He had straightened up as much as his damaged spine would let him, his movements stiff and uncoordinated as he reached out a hand to stop Sam. His voice had dropped a few octaves, impossibly deep in tone to the point it sounded like Dean’s vocal cords were being shredded apart.

Sam pressed the angel that was possessing his brother into the bed with one hand on its shoulder, holding the angel blade against its neck. The thing using Dean’s eyes glances down anxiously to the blade, the angel’s hand on his arm insistently pushing him away. Eileen stood nearby, checking the door to make sure no one would come into the room.

“Stop cutting Dean,” The angel commanded urgently. “I don’t have enough grace left to keep healing him like this.”

“Which one are you?” Sam spat at him, pressing the blade even closer as a threat. “Why the hell are you possessing my brother?”

“To save his life,” The angel insisted. “And to save mine. Sam, it’s me. It’s Cas.”

Sam blinked in surprise, lessening the pressure on Dean’s neck without really thinking about it. “Cas? No, that’s… that’s not possible… Dean said, he… You’re dead.”

“And so was Eileen,” Castiel pointed out, giving a small nod of his head towards the woman in question, careful not to catch himself on the blade against his neck.

“I don’t believe you,” Sam said with a shake of his head. “You can’t be Cas. You just… you can’t be.”

“When we first met, Dean had to stop you from shooting me,” Castiel began, the statement catching Sam off guard. “You were rather star-struck upon meeting me; having been the first time you had met an angel. My opinion of you at the time was rather harsh: the boy with the demon blood. But Dean helped me to see you in a different light. In the way he sees you. It was enough for me to be willing to dive back into Hell and recover your soul after you sacrificed yourself for the world.”

Sam was frozen in place, gaze fixated on the eyes that were his brothers, but also weren’t.

“Once, years after meeting you, I realized just how similar we were. Our fear of failing those we love, of letting down those we lead. Our willingness to sacrifice ourselves for the ‘greater good’. You nearly got yourself killed trying to make things right, to track down Gadreel and bring him to justice. But I wouldn’t do what you asked. I had to make you see your life was more valuable than that.”

The blade slipped away from Cas’s neck, held loosely in Sam’s hand as he stared down at Dean Cas in disbelief. “…Cas?

Castiel visibly relaxed as the blade dropped away from his neck, giving Sam a firm nod in response. Sam stood agape for a few more seconds before throwing himself forward, wrapping an arm around the back of his neck and pulling Cas into an awkwardly angled hug. Sam knew it was definitely Cas when Dean’s hands come to rest at his back, giving Sam a few clumsy pats before committing to the hug and squeezing Sam closer.

Yep. That’s Cas, alright.

“How the hell are you alive?” Sam asked once they broke apart, glancing over to Eileen to gauge her reaction. Eileen was still stood by the door, looking unsure as to what she should do now. Sam tucked the angel blade back into his jacket, sitting back down in the chair next to Dean’s bed. “Dean said you were gone?”

“I was,” Cas answered. “I’m… I’m sorry I didn’t tell you or your brother. Dean knows now of course, but… I had made a deal.”

“What kind of deal?” Eileen asked warily from beside the door, eyes flickering between Sam and Castiel. “A demon deal?”

Castiel shook his head. “I have no soul to barter with a Demon, so, no. This was shortly after Jack had succumbed to his illness, you see. When I found him in Heaven, we were being chased by the Empty.”

“The Empty can get into Heaven?” Sam asked.

“Apparently so. It believed that, since Jack was part angel, he belonged to the Empty after death. However, Heaven had already claimed Jack, because of his soul. I didn’t have a choice, Sam. I offered myself up to the Empty in exchange for Jack’s life. The Empty took that deal.”

“But… it’s been over a year since we lost Jack,” Sam questioned, brows furrowing in his confusion. “Why hadn’t the Empty taken you? Why now?”

Castiel tore his gaze away from Sam, looking at anything in the room other than the two pairs of peering eyes. “The Empty added an extra part to our deal. It would only take me… once I experienced a moment of true happiness.”

Sam glanced over to Eileen at this, matching expressions of wonder on their faces. It was rare to see Castiel this uncomfortable during a conversation.

“Billie was dying, and she wanted to take me and Dean with her,” Castiel continued before Sam could add anything. “Dean and I had barely just escaped her for the moment, but I could only buy us a few extra minutes before she got to us. So… I did the only thing I could. I summoned the Empty by fulfilling our deal, and it took Billie with me.”

“And… you fulfilled your deal by… experiencing a moment of true happiness?” Sam timidly asked.

“Yes,” Castiel was still refusing to meet Sam’s gaze, staring down at his hands in his lap.

“…You’re not going to tell me what that was, are you?”

“No.”

Castiel’s answer wasn’t all too surprising to Sam. While it was true that Castiel had opened up to him more over the years they’ve known each other, he was still quite reserved when it came to these kinds of things. Probably something he picked up from Dean… And yet, Castiel’s hesitation actually gave away more than he was probably intending to. A moment of true happiness. Castiel had managed to experience a moment of true happiness – with Dean. And now, as Sam thinks to the extra bottles of beer he found lying around the Bunker, and Dean’s sudden urge to be all cuddly with Miracle… he’s beginning to understand why Dean had been mourning Cas just a little differently than he had last time.

“Cas… if the deal was fulfilled, then… how did you get out?” Sam asked.

Castiel was grateful for the subject change, some of the tension in his posture slipping away. “Your brother, I believe. When Dean was… when he was dying, he began praying to me.”

“He reached you in the Empty?” Eileen asked, voice alight with incredulity.

“Dean and I… our bond is rare. There aren’t many angels that know humans on a personal level. Most prayers to angels are of the common ones we get: asking for help, for guidance, for a show of faith. They’re rarely ever directed at those individual angels. And they’re never usually packed with so much emotion. Especially not… not…”

“Not what?” Sam pressed on.

“Those emotions aren’t typically for that angel. Jack was able to reach me in the Empty with a combination of his powers, and his desire to have me back. Dean was able to reach me through his fear of death, his desperation to have someone save him… and his longing to see me again.”

Sam didn’t really know how he was supposed to respond to that. This was a conversation about his brother that seemed a bit more… intimate than he’s comfortable with. Especially when he knows Dean is sat somewhere within his own body, perhaps even listening into their conversation right now.

“Wow… Uh, I mean - - I’m still a little shell shocked at the minute… Don’t get me wrong, I’m… I’m thrilled to have you back, Cas. I missed you. You and Jack. Except, at least with Jack I knew he was still here, but… you were dead, and Dean wouldn’t talk to me about it, and… it’s all been a bit much.”

“I can imagine,” Castiel said with an understanding smile.

“What’s the deal with… you know-” Sam gestured to Dean’s body. “-This. Why are you possessing Dean? What happened to your body?”

Castiel opened his mouth to answer when an odd look twisted across his features. It almost looked like he was trying to listen for something, his eyes dull and unfocused.

“Uh… Cas?” Sam asked, snapping his fingers in front of Cas’s face. “You there, man?”

“Yes,” Castiel answered, a bit more clarity coming into his eyes. “Apologies, but Dean is getting rather uncomfortable being ‘forced into the passenger’s seat’.” Castiel raised his hands to place quotation marks over the words.

“Okay… what does that-,”

Dean’s body straightened up again, eyes flashing with angelic grace before returning to the usual soft green eyes of his brother. Dean blinked in a daze as he came back into his own body, giving a little shiver to try and clear the odd feeling.

“Man, that’s gonna take some getting used to,” Dean muttered, his voice raised back to his usual tone. “I’m kinda glad Michael placed me into that fake dream world while he was possessing me…”

“You say that like this isn’t going to be temporary…” Sam noted.

“For the time being… this is all we’ve got,” Dean replied with a shrug of his shoulders. “Cas is too weak to jump into another vessel after using up nearly all his grace to keep my dumb ass from dying. So yeah, for the time being, Cas is shacking up in my head.”

“For how long?”

“No idea. Current plan of action is to find a way to recreate his body again.”

“Recreate?” Eileen spluttered, interjecting into the brother’s conversation.

“Doesn’t sound easy, does it?” Dean replied gloomily. “The Empty pretty much deleted Cas’s body when it took him. No way of getting it back…”

“Well, what about his grace?” Sam threw out the suggestion. “Isn’t there a way we can ‘recharge’ it back to normal levels?”

‘Not without potentially throwing Heaven into chaos, no.’

Dean startled so harshly at the voice in his head that it got Sam to his feet in seconds, ready to sprint out of the room and find a Doctor in the fear that his brother was having some sort of seizure.

“Jesus, Cas!” Dean spoke out loud to the room, only confusing Sam and Eileen more. “How the hell did you do that?”

‘Do what? Talk to you? Like this.’

‘Yeah, but you’re talking in my head.’

‘As are you.’

‘What?’

‘You’re not speaking out loud, Dean. Only I can hear you when we talk like this.’

“Dean!”

Dean snapped back to reality at his brother’s distraught voice. Sam was shaking his shoulder whilst Eileen had seemingly teleported to his side, an equally anxious look on her face.

“What the hell was that, Dean?” Sam demanded. “You just zoned out on us!”

‘You’ll have to work on diverting your attention between what’s happening and what I’m saying, or you might freak out the doctors and we’ll have to stay in the hospital longer.’

“Whoa…” Dean exclaimed, raising a hand to his head. “This is weird…”

“What’s weird?” Sam asked, voice growing more agitated at Dean’s elusiveness.

“Me and Cas have got this weird Vulcan mind mend thing going on,” Dean answered, tapping at his head. “He’s talking in my head; and apparently… I can talk back to him too?”

“Uh… you sure you didn’t… imagine it?” Sam asked.

‘I can assure you Dean that you aren’t suffering from any brain damage that would lead to hallucinations of my voice.’

“Cas says I’m not crazy, so yeah - I’m pretty sure, Sammy,” Dean answered, voice dripping with sarcasm.

“Oh, does that mean Cas can hear and see everything you’re seeing?” Eileen sounded genuinely fascinated by all of this.

‘Yes, so long as you want me to, Dean. With enough effort, you would be able to block me out. Although, at my currently weakened state, it likely wouldn’t take much effort at all.’

‘Nah, I wouldn’t do that to you, Cas. Makes it easier this way anyway – you could probably point out stuff I don’t usually pick up on. And this way, you can still be part of the conversation; though guess I have to be your translator to pass on the message.’

‘Thank you, Dean… Eileen and Sam are looking worried again, you might want to refocus yourself.’

Sure enough, when Dean focused back into reality, Sam looked about ready to slap him back into the conversation. “Sorry, I promise I’ll get better at listening to Cas and talking at the same time. And yeah, Cas says he can hear and see everything I do.”

‘With your permission.’

“With my permission,” Dean adds.

“Huh… must be weird for Cas to be possessing you.”

“Why’s that?” Dean asked with a questioning frown.

“Well – I assume you’re the one that’s going to be in control most of the time, right?”

“That’s the plan, yeah,” Dean answered.

“Then it’s probably going to be weird having it the other way around.”

‘I have experienced this before when Lucifer was possessing me. You are a much better companion than Lucifer, Dean, so it’s not too weird.’

‘Is that a compliment? I’m assuming it’s a compliment. Doubt it takes much to be a better companion than freakin’ Lucifer, though.’

‘I suppose not. But there’s no other human I would want to share a body with than you, Dean.’

“Alright, Cas is getting weird so I’m going to cut him off,” Dean told them with a strained smile. “Cas said he’s cool with it.”

“Uh-huh… That all he said?” Sam pressed his brother for more.

“Hey, I’ll tell you everything Cas directs to you. Everything Cas says to me, is my business.”

The corner of Sam’s mouth twitched as he fought hard to keep his laughter from bubbling out. “Dean, that… you’ve got to realize how that just sounded.”

‘I don’t understand… how did it sound?’

‘Sammy probably thinks you’re talking dirty to me in my head.’

‘Oh… I’m… not?’

‘I know you’re not, Cas. Sam’s just being nosy.’

“Good job, Sam. You embarrassed Cas,” Dean scolded him.

“I didn’t say anything!”

“Yeah, but you implied something, and it made Cas uncomfortable.”

‘Maybe it would be best if I left for a bit…’

‘What? No, Cas – you don’t have to do that. I’ll change the subject.’

“I made Cas uncomfortable? You sure it’s not you that’s uncomfortable?” Sam continued to tease.

“Whatever you say, Sammy,” Dean conceded with hands raised in the air.

“Isn’t there more important things we should be talking about?” Eileen cut into their childish sibling argument. “We still don’t know what brought me back, or why. And rebuilding Cas’s body? Do we even know if that’s possible?”

“We won’t know until we look into it further,” Dean answered, turning cautious eyes over to the door, unsure as to whether the footsteps he heard were heading towards their room. “And we can’t do that until we get back home to the bunker…”

‘Dean… I think the doctors are going to want to keep you in the hospital for a few more days… And I’m inclined to agree with them.’

‘What? I feel fine-,’

‘We’re sharing a body, Dean. I know you’re not ‘fine’. You only feel fine for the moment because of the painkillers you’re on. You need a few extra days for your body to heal and adjust to its alterations.’

‘If the only problem is me handling pain, I can assure you I can do that from the bunker, Cas.’

‘It’s not just that, Dean. I… I can’t heal you anymore. At all. If something were to go wrong, if you re-damaged your back and began bleeding internally… there’s nothing I could do. Please, just… a few extra days here is all I ask.’

‘Dammit… Alright, fine, Cas. Only because you asked so nicely…’

Dean decided not to add his crippling fear of what would happen to Cas if something happened to him.

’Thank you, Dean.’

‘Yeah, yeah… Besides, it’s not like we have to worry about a time limit this go around. You’re good so long as you don’t use any of your grace, right?’

‘Oh, um… yes. Yes, I should be fine if I don’t use any.’

“Alright, clearly you and Cas want some alone time,” Sam teased Dean mercilessly, giving Dean’s leg a light slap as he stood from the chair.

“What? No! That’s not-,”

“I’m joking, Dean,” Sam said with a smile, much too pleased with himself for Dean’s liking. “I need to go talk to the doctor about how long they think you need to stay… Then I really need to head back to the bunker and check up on Miracle; find a place that’ll take her while we’re here.”

“Oh, I see. The dog’s more important than your poor injured brother, huh?”

“Don’t pretend like you wouldn’t kick my ass for leaving her there alone.”

“You two have a very weird sibling dynamic…” Eileen said with a shake of her head.

‘Can you tell Eileen I couldn’t agree with her more?’

‘Don’t you start sassing me in my head, Cas.’

“Cas said he agrees with you…” Dean mumbled dejectedly, passing on Cas’s message. Sam embarrassingly signed the message to Eileen who couldn’t make out Dean’s mumbles, cracking into laughter at the two brother’s shame at being called out.

“You want me to pick up anything from the bunker while I’m there?” Sam asked over the last of Eileen’s giggles. “Some books, maybe?”

“Could use my laptop for research – and no, not the ‘sexy’ type of research, before you say it.”

‘Sexy research?’

‘Porn, Cas. Porn.’

‘Oh… Um, if you could warn me in advance before you watch such content, I’ll put myself to sleep-,’

‘Stop talking, Cas. Stop talking right now.’

Dean already knew his face was burning a bright red. Sam and Eileen’s questioning looks were enough evidence of that

“…Laptop, got it,” Sam said after quite the gap in their conversation. “Uh… anything else?”

“A new change of clothes for when I get out of here… Don’t really fancy struggling out of here in this hospital gown with my ass hanging out in the wind.”

“You could have stopped at the first sentence. I really didn’t need that image in my head.” Sam said, face scrunching with disgust as he pulled the Impala’s keys out of his jacket pocket. “You gonna be okay here on your own for the night?”

“I’m not on my own. I’ve got Cas, remember?” Dean said, a smile creeping onto his face at the thought. Sam rolled his eyes as he turned away – for what reason Dean didn’t want to think about – gesturing with head to Eileen to follow him out of the room.

‘Ain’t that right, Cas? You’ll keep me company for the night, won’t you?’

The silence Dean got from his head was enough for the light-hearted smile on his face to slip away.

‘…Cas?’

‘You told me to stop talking.’

Dean snorted out loud, the sound catching Sam and Eileen off guard just before they stepped out from the room, sharing knowing looks and sly smiles with one another.

‘Damn… You have no idea how much I missed you, Cas.’

* * *

Next Chapter --->

#destiel fanfiction #Destiel #Destiel fanfic #destiel fic #Dean Winchester/Castiel #castiel/dean winchester #castiel/dean #CasDean #fix it #fix it fic #supernatural spoilers #fluff #angst

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imagine-loki · 4 years

Text

Atlas: Space, Moon

TITLE: Atlas: Space

CHAPTER NO./ONE-SHOT: 5/12

AUTHOR: fanfictrashdump

ORIGINAL IMAGINE: Imagine narrating episodes of Loki’s life with the Avengers based on the songs from Sleeping At Last’s “Atlas: Space” album.

RATING: T-M

NOTES/WARNINGS: Welcome to my Sleeping At Last’s Atlas: Space challenge, aka Another writing project I do not have time for, but my brain insisted on doing.

This series will be less like a multichapter fic and more of a one-shot compendium, but that they all interconnect in one way or another. It will revolve around Loki and Becca’s relationship (Taking Turns, Glow, Helmet Heists–don’t worry, more Loki-Charlie stuff will be along) and I will use those one-shots as reference to the timeline. Each chapter will be one song, used as inspiration for the story.

Chapter 5: Moon

Summary: Hell hath no wrath like an out-of-the-loop Tony. Are you ready for this to get kinda soft? Because it gets kinda soft. (Happens previous to Taking Turns.)

Warnings include: Language. Loki wishing heat-stroke had taken him, soft and vulnerable frost giant fluff, and two idiots who just need to fucking kiss already.

[Instrumental track-really good reading music, btw]

Loki groaned pitifully as he awoke. His whole body felt like it had been dipped in lead and tossed to the bottom of the deepest ocean where he fell into an ever-deepening trench. Except he wasn’t dipped in anything. He wasn’t in the ocean. He was in the Med Bay, after, most likely, being pulled out of the mission, and, after the humiliation of passing out, he just wished he was drowning.

He tried moving his fingers first, opening and closing his fists tentatively to gauge the ache. He found the dull throb a reminder that he was, indeed, an idiot. His skin looked pale–well, paler than usual–and several lines seemed to have been placed directly into his veins with fluids. He wondered how Banner had even managed to get the needles to pierce his skin, but that was neither here nor there.

A noise of pages turning beside him, rustled. Loki bargained with the universe to end his miserable existence now, rather than have to face the person he knew was occupying the chair beside his bed. The universe denied his plea, as it always did. He wondered why he even bothered asking, anymore.

Becca looked about as tired as he felt. Though her hair was tied up in a sleek braid that was draped over her shoulder, and her clothes looked fresh and kempt, her eyes had dark bags beneath them. They were also rimmed in red. She had been crying. Surely it had not been over him, had it? With a groan, he sat up.

“Welcome back.” Her voice was soft, though hoarse and her face was littered in small, half-healed cuts. He must not have been asleep for too long. He was almost hesitant to break the calm quietness of the moment, though that was quickly solved.

The sound of Bruce repeating Tony’s name in a plea echoed in the empty medical facility. A second later Tony, red in the face, was in front of Loki’s cot, pointer finger gesturing the Prince.

“Do you have any idea how fucked we could have been because of your little stunt?” Loki had the good sense to look down in shame, hair forming a dark curtain around his face to hide the flush creeping up his neck. “If Becca hadn’t been in position to get to you, we’d be retrieving your corpse right around now. Do you understand that, Loki? Dead! You would survived every other fucking thing the Universe had thrown at you and you would’ve bowed out because of fucking heat stroke!”

He growled, seemingly no longer capable of speech and knocked over a tray, making both Becca and Loki start.

“I had to pull Thor from his assignment because I had no idea if he was going to pass out, too. We had to scramble the whole roster to finish the mission because you weren’t bothered to tap out when you reached your limit! We nearly fucked this whole op because of you. You are in such deep shit, Mischief. I swear to God!”

With that sentiment hanging in the air, Tony turned tail and stomped his way out of the hospital room.

Loki turned to Becca, his eyes looked pained as he took her in. “I’m so–” She raised a finger, wordlessly telling him to hold his thought before she pointed back at the Med Bay entrance where Tony was rushing back in. She seemed almost amused by the man’s predictability. In reality, she was just used to seeing this song and dance routine being done with Peter.

“A frost giant in 110 plus degree heat? Really? You should have told us, Loki!” He roared and Loki stilled as his blood ran as cold as his species name. “You should have told us the second you started working here. Let me be clear. I don’t give a shit what the hell you are. You can be an ice giant, a fae princess or a goddamn opossum–you don’t keep that from us!” He raked his hair frustratedly, trying to swallow the rest of his yelling and barely succeeding. “I would have given you a different beat on mission. I would have given you both a different beat.” Loki opened his mouth to protest, but was promptly cut off. “Do you think I don’t know you went on that mission because of Becks? What kind of a moron do you take me for?”

“Not a damn word, Loki,” Becca warned, smirking. “This is not the moment to be clever.” Loki pressed his mouth to a thin line, glaring shortly at the woman for denying him his only defense mechanism at present.

Tony rolled right through the joke, too keyed up to be amused. “You are grounded, do you hear me? Grounded! No more missions until I decide that you’ve learned your damn lesson. No more leaving the compound for pizza in the city. No special passes to Asgard. Completely grounded. Am I understood?”

Loki surprised himself by nodding effusively to the demands, back pressed against the headboard as though he intended to meld into the wall behind him. Tony stomped back out, muttering out loud about idiots who were going to give him a heart attack. Loki glanced back at Becca, who was sitting crisscross, book abandoned on the portion of her thighs left bare by her shorts. In the scratchy paper gown Loki felt entirely out-of-place in her presence. Still, he couldn’t find it in himself to want to leave.

Despite her neutral expression, he could see something akin to hurt lurking behind her eyes. “I didn’t tell–”

“It’s fine,” Becca cut in, waving him off. “It was none of my business. I get it.” She sniffed delicately, her eyes dropping to the checkered floor of the hospital as if it help some great secret.

“Rebecca…”

She glanced up and unwound her legs, reaching forward to ruffle his hair. “I’m glad you’re OK.”

When she made to leave, Loki wrapped his fingers around her wrist and held her still. “It wasn’t because of you or because I didn’t trust you.”

The woman looked like she debated not arguing but thought better of it at the last moment, letting the frustration pour out of her every pore. “That doesn’t change the fact that I was the one who watched you almost die without knowing the reason.”

“I didn’t want it to change how you saw me,” he explained for reasons he could not comprehend.

Becca scoffed, leaning down to get eye level with him. He could feel her breath on his face and at any other point in time, he would have celebrated being in this position. Something in the back of his head told him he shouldn’t cheer this time around. “Literally no one gave a shit what you looked like as we dragged your giant-ass, blue body onto the jet. We only prayed you wouldn’t die before we hit ally airspace, you fucking moron,” she explained slowly, voice trembling and eyes watering. “We work with a bioengineered, sentient gem–you’re not that fucking special.”

Loki swallowed thickly, suddenly terrified of the burning rage reflected in her warm eyes. It was bright, beaming, smoldering fear that fueled it. Fear that she would lose him before they managed to land somewhere that might have been safe to intervene on him. Fear that she would lose a colleague, a friend. Fear that she would never make him pay for keeping her in the dark for so long. Loki felt every last bit of that fear, magnified tenfold to become his own.

He leaned his forehead onto her clasped hand. “I didn’t want you to know who I really was and chance scaring you off.”

“Are you dumb or what?” She snapped, gritting her teeth in an effort to contain her tears. “Why would I judge you over something you have no control over? After all we’ve done? All we’ve lived? I thought I showed you who I was a little better than that.”

“It wasn’t about you–”

“Evidently it was or you wouldn’t care if I saw!” She snapped before sighing, brushing his tangled hair back with her free hand. “You worried me a hell of a lot.” There was so much held back in her voice, he could tell, but he was not about to try his luck and pressure her into revealing her secrets.

“I’m sorry, Rebecca.” Loki had never apologized for a damn thing in his life, but he couldn’t help but let the words slip now, as she watched him with worry in her eyes and hurt in her soul.

“Scoot over, Evil Smurf,” she teased softly, and the words landed as painfully as if she had called him my love. He wanted this. He wanted this playful pain, but he couldn’t reason to himself why.

Swallowing a groan, he shifted over in the hospital cot. Becca clambered in easily and draped her arm around his shoulders, feeling him tense momentarily. After a second, the warmth of her digits seeped into his skin, and he melted into her side. When he let out a small sad whine, she pressed a kiss to his temple and allowed him to hide his face into the crook of her neck. Whether their silent agreement to shelve their discussion was due to shock of their mutual vulnerability or pure exhaustion, it was unsure. They merely accepted the conditions and sat tangled up, with only the sound of their breathing.

That’s how Bruce found them, asleep, an hour later when he went in to change Loki’s IV bag.

#Loki #Lover #Angst #Others #Submitted fic #submission #atlas space #moon #chapter 5 #Fanfictrashdump

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kareofbears · 4 years

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persona 5 royal: my thoughts after finishing it five minutes ago

disclaimer: the only reason im writing this is because 1) i have a lot of thoughts and feelings that i need to write down and if i dont ill explode and 2) i want to be able to find this when p5s eventually drops so i can compare my thought processes. if you do not agree with what i’m going to say, that’s cool! just block me or ignore this post.

now for the sake of sanity, i’m going to try and narrow down this entire list into chunks because this’ll probably be very very long and very much about me just screaming about stuff that i liked, loved, and don’t like. i will be spoiling both the original persona 5 and persona 5 royal, obviously, so i hope you finished both!

1) Akechi

so yes. Goro Akechi. Everyone’s favorite murderer. I’m going to by spewing a lot of hot takes, and this is probably going to be the spiciest: i am in the most intense love-hate relationship with this brown haired antagonist because jesus christ is he a complicated son of a bitch. I know i’ve complained in the past about how much Atlus often struggles with utilizing a character well, but that does not at all relate to Akechi in any way, shape, or form.

I’ll say this now: He is a character I genuinely, truly hate, yet he is the one I want to hear from the most. He is someone who is a bad person (yes, he is a bad person) but whenever he comes on screen he makes me sit up, he makes me pay attention to him because that’s just the aura he exudes. He is a character who i would never, ever waste my time defending or justifying his actions, but every minute joker spends with him is a minute i want to stretch out as long as possible because he is just that good of a character. He is interesting, he is well defined, he is smart, he is clever, he is sassy, he’s a motherfucking asshole who’s never had a vibe check in my life and i still hate him. Goro Akechi is what Star Wars wanted Kylo Ren to be, and that allegory may not make sense to many people but it works for me so i’m saying it. It’s to the point where writing akechi in a fanfic makes me sweat because in my opinon capturing the essence of akechi is near impossible unless you know what you are talking about (i do not mean that in anyway to discourage people from writing him, im just saying that I am a coward because i will never be able to write a good akechi). Anyway, bottom line is: i despise him but my eyes are always glued to him at all times.

back to the main point-- Atlus absolutely nailed this character and every single addition they put in for Akechi. I’m so damn thrilled that you actually have confidant hangouts with him because every single time you talk to him, it services not only the plot, but it perfectly does what it is supposed to do: it makes you like him, but also leaves the player slightly unnerved. they do it so casually that I might have trouble explaining it, but bear with me: everytime you hangout with him, he always does or say something that unhinges you just a little bit, it leaves you asking ‘wait why?’ or ‘but how did you know that’ or ‘why are you saying that?’. akechi is constantly playing mind games with you. and not only that, adding backstory to akechi (moreso than in the original) is just fucking fantastic. he’s always been a fully fleshed out character but after playing royal, goro akechi actually exists in my mind, and i still hate him (but also i dont. but also i do. anyway)

2) the ending

just finished the game and this is the point where i am at odds with p5r for the first time. the ending to p5, in my opinion, was flawless; everything was perfect and had meaning. from the shot of akira being shown to not wearing glasses anymore because he no longer feels the need to wear a mask (character development: he was very unhappy at the beginning of the game and now he’s happy with his friends--i love it), to his friends being the one to drive him home (amazing, he left his home town and came to shibuya alone via transit, and one year later he’s now leaving with all of his best friends in a van they rented just so they could stay with him as long as they can--it’s perfect, i love it), and also all of them seeing how large and infinite the ocean is (because now there’s unlimited options for them because they all have a new perspective on life).

But....none of that is there in p5r. it feels impersonal. no one drops him off at his hometown, he was still wearing glasses, and there’s no grand metaphor about what they all achieved.

Now, i am not a (complete) moron. I know why they had to change it: it’s because of persona 5 scramble (i think). they wanted to set up a plot for the next game and i feel like thats the reason why persona 5 royal’s ending suffered for it: they were too focused on the next plot that they forgot to focus on the sentimental ending for p5r. don’t get me wrong, seeing akechi in the train station absolutely made me lose my shit and made me scream at one in the morning, but i think they lost the core meaning in doing the other stuff. i did not like the focus on maruki and kasumi (will be talking about them later), cause i feel like it took away from the ending, and i also didn’t like the fact that the whole joker outfit in the reflection thing (but i will be letting it slide since it was during the after credits anyway). So while i do love one (1) new aspect of the final cut scene, i still adore and stan the one from persona 5.

3) the entire last semester

i’ll be quick: the final palace? the best palace. fight me. it’s fantastic, it’s innovative, it’s interesting, and most of all, the palace ruler is actually the best one in the entire game and i know i wont be the only one to say this. maruki is not a villain: i know for a godamn fact that im not the only one to say that i almost agreed with his deal of allowing the reality (damn i almost agreed twice) because why wouldnt you?? it’s literally a perfect reality! the only reason i didnt agree is because i knew the game wouldnt want me to agree and would force me to have the bad ending! anyway, i love the last section so much. the palace design is interesting, the antagonist is brilliant (who doesn’t love a morally gray antagonist?), and finally, the payoff of kasumi happened and it made me silent for ten minutes. the entire reveal of her being sumire and kasumi being dead is just so genuinely shocking to me that it nearly broke my neck.

what actually broke my neck was the initial incident for the third semester. seeing everyone in this wild alternate reality made me so unsettled that i literally got a stomach ache. i saw morgana as a human and nearly passed out. shiho in the underground? wig. ryuji saying he’s on the national pedastal for running? literally my eyebrows just popped off my head. fucking WAKABA? FLATLINED. brilliantly executed and i love the initial akechi and akira buddy cop movie vibes in the beginning it was just so fun.

one huge part of the third semester for me though, was of course, akechi. seeing him completely throw away his ‘charming ace detective’ speil was the most refreshing and interesting and not to mention, hilarious part of the game. he does not give a fuck about anyone and he is not afraid to let you know. he is the biggest savage and the most insane person on the phantom thieves group. he’ll roast you, he’ll roast your boyfriend, he’ll roast fuckin anyone and it’s fantastic. not to mention his dialogue is killer: he says the most bat shit insults ever and my favorite example is when you go up to him near the end of the game, you know, to hangout with him and be a nice guy, he just does not hesitate to say ‘what, you came just to see me? just the sort of brainless sentimentality i’d expect from you.’ i LOVE IT because why the hell would he try to be nice? the jig is up, he’s got nothing to hide. and he owns it. atlus seriously nailed akechi in this last semester and it’s brilliant and i love it.

4) everything else

- one small thing that pissed me off in both games (but especially this one) is how many godamn fake out deaths there are. Morgana has one, Akira has one, Ryuji has one, Sojiro has one, Maruki has one, motherfucking Akechi has two. it just hurts me!

- sumire is an amazing character who has depth and she is lovely and my biggest complaint is that it feels like atlus shoved her in. like, she feels like a new addition to the game, you know what i mean? maybe its because ive played the original p5 first, but you know, it’s not a big deal. but i love her so much

- on the topic of sumire, i cant say that im completely super duper happy with how different she felt from the other thieves? im sure that’ll be explained in p5s but she just got so much screen time that it just truly made me confused?? maybe im just a horrible person, or that’s just a really hot take. but anyway, yeah maybe im bitter because i really wanted to see extra hangouts/school trips during royal, but didn’t really.

-baton pass? literally orgasmic. it made turn base battles so damn fun and the addition of darts and billiards made me foam at the mouth it was SO SMART AND INNOVATIVE AND I LOVE IT ATLUS I LOVE YOU ATLUS YOURE SO SMART SWEETIE

-small thing, but making spells like ‘dormina’ actually useful just made the game so much more fun and dungeon crawling became something i truly, genuinely looked forward to

-being able to give gifts to my bros? absolutely incredible. thank you. side note: seeing akechi happy from giving him a multi vitamin cracked me up. side side note: giving ryuji a fuck ton of weights and him just smiling made my heart so happy i love that boy so much

- ah this game just looked so GOOD! i thought the original looked good but they really went all out. im not kidding, the smallest details in everyday life or even just normal cut scenes were out of this world. especially stuff from the third semester its just OOF good JOB atlus i love you buddy

-ahhh thieves den! how can i forget? i love it. at first i was a bit iffy with it since it really felt like persona 5 (undoubtedly the biggest game atlus has created) was just jacking itself off. but as time goes on, it became a huge addition to the game and seeing characters’ insights and extra lines of dialogue became super duper interesting and a highlight of the game for me. and don’t even get me started on how much i love love love the photos they added of them hanging out! so lovely, a bunch of them made me tear up

- i know it’s literally impossible, but i feel like the game just forgot that akechi is a person who can wield multiple persona and i just wish that could’ve been messed around with during Palaces

- showtimes are so, so crazy and i get so embarassed whenever they play on my tv because they are just outlandish and unashamed but i love them so so much it just defines persona’s personality

-because i love ryuji: i prefer the final conversation you have with him aka ‘whaddya mean? you’re there’ but there’s still a lot of really tender and sweet moments like akira genuinely telling him that he’ll miss him, and also the fact that ryuji wants you both to send each other your times through the exercise watch so you can still race ahhhh i love him so much yall

so, overall, this game is better than the original p5 because of the extra content we get. if persona 5 was the perfect dinner, persona 5 royal is that same dinner and you get to enter the dessert buffet. it’s brilliant, it’s smart, it’s hilarious, it’s heartwarming, and it’s undoubtedly my favorite game of all time without exaggeration. while i do prefer the final cut scene (and final dialogues with some characters) in the original persona 5, in the overall experience, persona 5 royal is superior in my mind. i would willingly get amnesia to play this game again.

I didn’t get to cover everything, but this is definitely most of what i wanted to say. if you actually get to reading all the way to the end, thanks! it means a lot. i hope we can all enjoy persona and look forward to persona 5 scramble together :-)

#p5 #persona 5 #p5r #persona 5 royal #mine #such a long post but totally worth it

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semiconducting · 3 years

Text

just reflecting on some personal growth stuff from last year !

im actually. genuinely okay. like i think im starting this year feeling okay! which is atypical.

i think i can attribute it to the enormous amount of work id put into myself over the past year...i remember one year ago being extraordinarily depressed and really just. high strung? incredibly anxious but exhausted. and i fell down a descent slowly from not eating, to getting really irritable and not handling conflicts with friends well, to actively self harming again, to the point where i remembered sitting in a coffee shop with one of my friends and saying out loud that i need to go to therapy. and that i was going to talk to a mutual friend of ours about how the therapy services on campus are. which was a huge step for me! ive always had trust issues with therapy services since i was 12 for reasons i wont go into, but im sure you can gather the point of.

and then, literally the next day after saying that, got news about campus shutting down because of the virus.

and i made all of the effort possible to reach out to my friends and get things figured out to weather the storm because i KNEW shit was going to get bad if i didnt. but only one of my friends was really keeping up, and thats because he and i do homework together so we were already in a rhythm of talking every single week no matter what. and thats not to say that im ungrateful for him or the fact that even still he was there for me while i was going through hell, i have this thing about Not Putting All My Problems On And Confiding In One Person And One Person Only. so i withdrew, i stopped talking to everyone, i stopped logging into my classes, i didnt do any homework, i didnt lead my workshops, didnt hold office hours...i was just wallowing in my own misery

and i made plans to kill myself. and thats like, i mean i could say that several dozen times over the course of a year since i was like 12, but i mean a legitimate walkthrough plan. had my hiking bag packed with everything i was going to use, decided where i was going to, and was going to prep myself for it. wrote drafts and drafts of suicide notes until i decided just leaving the contact info of people who needed to know asap was all i was going to leave. in addition to sticky notes on some stuff in my room for what needed to be returned to who, or if something should go to someone in particular...

and i acted as normally as i could around my housemates. attributed my not leaving my room much to being busy with classes. i have a rule to myself to always sleep at least one night before killing myself because if im really serious about going through with it it can always wait one day. this time i decided i was going to clean my room and leave it as pristine as possible. the last thing i had to do was a load of laundry, and then i was going to do it.

and then someone from campus showed up at my door. because one of my professors filed a report and i hadnt responded to any of the emails id received checking in on me.

so i readjusted. caught up on my schoolwork, just barely finished the semester and definitely didnt do it strong or well (god bless the pass/fail option bc of covid LOL), but i did it nonetheless. went home, started my internship, had a miserably mundane summer.

i grew bitter and apathetic. i was angry at my friends for not being responsive when i reached out to them to talk or hang out or do anything. i got tired of dealing with it. i was tired of feeling alone and like no one gave a shit about me except for when it was convenient for them. i decided that i wasnt going to deal with people who werent willing to put any effort into me, so i stopped talking to everyone and kept up with people who were willing to reach out after the fact.

it’s definitely not the best approach. it’s really unforgiving and it doesn’t give people a lot of benefit of the doubt, but i think it was necessary in some respect. i didn’t have any criteria for how people needed to reach out, or how long after, or whatever, just that they did. really needed people in my life who are willing to communicate with me. i was honest with how i was feeling and why i did things if they did, apologized for the shitty approach, thanked them for still being willing to talk to me, and worked out the best way for both of us to keep things going.

over the months i dont think i really regret the decision, because it’s been a weight off my shoulders. i feel a lot better. i’m far more okay with where i stand in all of my friends’ lives, even if that’s not as a priority and even if that’s as just someone to talk to and catch up with like a couple times a year. it took a bit for it to pay off but it’s nice to take a look at people i was putting far too much work into and upon reflection realizing that they only interacted with me when they needed something from me, and not for me as a person. i think there are still people where there are loose ends and i think i may try reaching out myself to tie those up at some point, whenever i have the energy and clarity of mind for it. but i guess at the end of the day i just decided that people who weren’t willing to communicate weren’t worth the time. i’m okay if that communication means i need to be the one to initiate conversations even! i just need to know that.

but yeah. i came back to ny and started the semester totally apathetic and angry. i was so fucking depressed and bored with everything even if i was keeping myself incredibly busy. the only thing that i found rewarding (and what was just barely keeping me going) was leading my workshop for the intro optics class.

and then a friend -- the same friend i was at the coffee shop with -- reached out to catch up. and i was honestly really bitter and angry with him and was prepping myself to start listing out issues that i hadnt been able to address with him beforehand (side note, while telling friends the issues you have with them is important, listing shit out all at once is hardly ever a good approach especially without warning LOL) but ended up...just having a calming and comfortable conversation about what was going on in our lives since we last saw each other.

n later that day i ended up reaching out to an old friend that i had been meaning to catch up with because we fell out of contact, but had just barely been trying to start talking again in the months before this but had kept missing opportunities to properly converse. but we talked again, and we set up a day to hike and catch up.

and he comes to my house and picks me up. and i get in his car. and its like, holy shit, its been almost a year since ive seen you. and we hugged. and just started to catch each other up on the mess that had been our lives since we’d actively been in contact. we hiked, he told me about the books he wanted to write, we talked about people we knew, we talked about politics, we talked about school, we talked about life, and it was just as comfortable as if not a day had passed...even though it was obvious that he and i were both changed people over the past year. nothing about our friendship was any different though.

we resolved to hanging out with each other every week. decided we both needed the interaction, appreciated having each other around, and had a nice overlap of free time in the week that worked well. friday nights unless otherwise specified.

it was totally unexpected. he’d always been a great friend to me, but i never expected us to get as close as we did. neither did he. he’s probably the first person in my life (or at least in a very long time, and certainly the only person at the time) that i’d been so comfortable with that i practically had no boundaries around. none that needed to be addressed, anyway, because the only possible ones to throw up wouldn’t even come up (but of course, i constantly reassured that as soon as anything came up i would let him know because early on he kept asking sjhdkjfh).

he became something for me to look forward to in the week. towards the beginning he was a shoulder to lean on when i needed it and was willing to listen to things i hadn’t been able to tell anyone out loud. and he confided in me as well. it was comfortable. it was safe. it was a level of trust with vulnerability that i’d never shown anyone else.

but it wasnt even just that! it was fun! hes so fun. we could talk about everything and nothing, and hes one of the only people where i feel like i have to keep up with him in conversation instead of the other way around. we’d jump from topic to topic so much faster than either of us could think and it was all always so interesting. littered with humour that was just dumb and simple. i felt comfortable just being an idiot with him. i felt like i had nothing to prove.

for the past few years ive held to the sentiment that i like to hang around with people that make me a better person. but somehow, with him, its not that i felt like he made me a better person, but that he made me more myself. he saw who i was without any kind of fronts. and i always was afraid to show anyone that me because i always assumed that they would be depressing, loathsome, bitter, angry, and vicious.

but....i’m not. i learned that i’m incredibly loving. that i’d do fuckin anything to for my friends, but always in a way that was healthy and rewarding for both of us. i’m very light-hearted and my sense of humour is so stupid, but also very analytical and thoughtful. just a bit judgmental and pretentious, but always for things that people dont expect. totally open minded in discussions. an avid explorer, and a bit of a thrillseeker. and so, so, so affectionate.

i realized im. not as horrible as ive always made myself out to be. i accepted that i didnt need to punish myself for things beyond my control. i realized that i could believe people when they tell me that they enjoy my company, or appreciate things i do for them, or that they think i’m a worthwhile person to keep around.

its not that i dont have my flaws, its not that there arent things that i have to work on still. but maybe, at my core, i’m not actually motivated by spite, i’m not actually a hopeless pessimist, and that i’m not...broken. i’m not some secretly irredeemable monster.

and for a period of time i’ve been in a place where i could say i was genuinely...happy! and i don’t think i’ve ever been able to say that. i’ve certainly been made happy by doing things with friends in the past, i’ve been through periods where i’ve been okay with where i am at in life, but ever since i was like 12 (but probably even before that) i’d never been able to say that i was happy. it’s not that i wasn’t stressed, it’s not that things in my life were all going perfectly....but they didn’t define my mood. they didn’t define my view of myself. school, despite being the primary focus of my life, wasn’t dictating how i was feeling. even when things were agonizing and depressing because of school, i was still okay. i was incredibly stable.

and i owe that all to him being there for me. and hardly any of these things were anything that he was really directly responsible for, like its not that he sat there and just constantly showered me in reassurance and praise or anything that changed how i view myself...it was just having his company. it was just being able to sit there and listen to him go on about some totally random thing that he was exceptionally knowledgeable about. it was exploring caves and climbing hills. it was cooking together. it was talking about science. it was talking about love. it was talking about music. it was just having a consistent presence in my life, someone that treated me like a priority but never at the expense of himself, and someone i didn’t have to walk on any kind of eggshells around. it was someone who trusted me and respected me not by anything id done to warrant it, but just because of who i was.

it was a reminder that i can take care of my own problems, that i just need to be a good presence in someone’s life and for them to be a good presence in mine.

but also that i can accept help from people who genuinely want to offer it! and that that help doesnt always have to be direct. that sometimes helping me means i get to do something nice for someone else LOL

it was everything i ever needed and i wasnt even looking for it. he meant the world to me and i was so, so thankful for the circumstances that led us here because i was so happy to have him in my life again. i was happy that we were able to get closer because we’d only been able to interact in professional environments before.

and then i realized i was in love. and i had a sexuality crisis. but i didn’t recognize it until i fell hard because it was a different kind of love than i’ve felt for anyone before. it was intense but entirely too comfortable. but i knew that i cared about him, and that he cared about me, and that i really didn’t need anything about our friendship to change but that it had potential to be something even greater than it was.

and i resolved to tell him about it...until he told me first. and that moment was, as cheesey as it sounds, nothing less than magical. we were both so happy and giggly and it was so sweet and warm and i dont know if im ever going to be able to recreate that feeling because it was just so particular, so specific to being something between me and him. its not that i cant love anyone else as strongly or be as happy as i was necessarily, but it’ll never be that same kind of feeling.

but things happened. things got complicated. i think he panicked. and then things that happened just felt so dirty and hollow and dark. he hurt me really, really, really badly, and it managed to happen in the span of four days.

and i’ve spent the last <2 weeks dealing with it. i think he’s dealing with it in his own ways, but realistically i don’t know how because i havent seen him since christmas eve, and we were both definitely not being completely genuine that day. was at his house for a small family party and he and i were the only ones who knew what happened. it was too soon to have healed from it any, but we couldnt exactly be honest about it then either.

and im doing better. im genuinely okay now. and, interestingly, i think i owe it to the past few months of hanging out with him and how ive been able to come to terms with a lot of things about myself. ive been able to show myself compassion. its really ironic.

its a situation where i was desperately trying to throw blame onto myself for, because if i could then i could punish myself for it and use it to fuel that deep rooted self hatred and then i could fix it, because i’d be the one responsible for fixing it. but, and i’ve talked to quite a few friends about it trying to figure out who to confide in about it, everyone who knows about it insists that i cant blame myself for it. theres not a thing about the situation that i can blame myself for. and its so fucking weird, because i cant bring myself to fully blame him for it either, just because it was so ABSURDLY out of character that it doesnt feel like it was anything he could have done to me. it was a boundary that i wasnt ever supposed to worry about him crossing, because he’s just not that kind of person.

and it’s the type of situation that you’re supposed to totally be willing to cut someone off for but...i can’t. he’s genuinely remorseful and i think he doesn’t really know how to deal with it either. and despite it being a massive fuck up its still like...the first fuck up in our friendship from either of us. and i’m willing to see this through. i think it’s salvageable, even if it’ll never be the same as it was. i have faith in our friendship. i think we can make it work.

but no matter what happens. i owe him more than i’ll ever be able to repay him for. and i’ll never, ever be able to hate him because of that. i’m in a much, much better place because of him and for that i’ll always be thankful.

#shut up mega #this ended up being longer and more in depth abt the earlier half of the year than i meant it LOL #a summary of my 2020 i spose #also there's some kinda detailed talk of #suicide ment -#self harm ment -#IM CRYING AFTER WRITING THIS OUT LMAOOOO

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inyoursheets · 4 years

Note

8 12 18!

Do you listen to music while you write? If so, share a song that’s been inspiring you lately.

i do, at least 90% of the time. you can blame hozier for the angsty turn warm water took. it started out so fluffy and then one night i listened to some of his music while the sun set and suddenly Feelings Happened and i changed it drastically.

Is there a trope you haven’t written yet but really want to?

hmmmmmm well i don’t have any i desperately wanna write – plenty i desperately wanna read tho. but maybe a good old-fashioned soulmates!AU???? i don’t wanna have a long wishlist of tropes to write bc im not good at balancing multiple WIPs and rn i really don’t wanna start something new, which i might do if i think about this question too much. but there are a lot of tropes that i love!

What is a line/scene you’re really proud of? Give us the DVD commentary for that scene.

uhhhhh well since im pretty proud of managing to write rhea, rio and beth having sex in a way that doesn’t feel too OOC to me, here’s a scene from the instigator with DVD commentary.

Taking in the lines of her face, Beth feels giddy with relief. She can’t even begin to express how grateful she is they can have this, this inexplainable, twisted relationship that shouldn’t spark as many feelings deep down inside her as it does. God, she hasn’t had a relationship as difficult to navigate as this one since—

Oh.

Oh no.

so this sort of…….happened by accident? part of the dialogue i mean. part of this i had planned out – i wanted beth and rhea to talk about rio, i wanted to really dive into the complex relationship between beth and rhea and i wanted beth to feel some type of way about rhea and rio, but it wasn’t until later that i realized how easily i could draw a parallel between beth and rhea and beth and rio, which is how this line happened.

“You and him… What are you exactly?”

She looks over her shoulder, up at Rhea’s face. Rhea scoffs, but she smiles down at her, knowing immediately who she’s talking about.

“We’re parents. We’re exes. It’s not that complicated. Unlike you and him.”

Beth grimaces.

“Don’t remind me.”

She leans back against her legs, closing her eyes after taking another sip of the brown liquid Rhea often complains appalls her senses. She’s always quick to pipe back about Rhea’s penchant for rosé, but more often than not she gets reminded of how she brought the first bottle, making her the instigator.

Isn’t that what she always is? The instigator?

roll credits! i think i had the title in mind/was mulling it over and then this line just fit perfectly here, really demonstrating how i view the relationship between beth, rhea, and rio in this fic.

She wants to ask so much more. How often do they see each other? How often do they talk? How well does she know him? Does she like him, or does she simply tolerate him, as the father of her child? Still, the first question that makes it out of her mouth doesn’t revolve around that at all.

“What’s the last time you two…” Her voice trails off, as it should. Dear God, what is she thinking?

“What, fucked?” She can hear the smile in Rhea’s voice. “What’s it to you?” Beth’s cheeks redden quickly.

so in order to get from point a to point threesome, as the prompter put it, i needed to get sex on the table. in a way this is a ridiculous question to ask, but i also think this is the easiest one to voice out loud out of the others going through beth’s head at this point.

“Don’t worry, I’m sure there are miles and miles between our entanglements with Chris.” She’s not sure what that was supposed to reassure either of them of. Or if it’s intentional, how loaded the words sound. She swallows.

“When was the last time? What was it like, I mean.” She can’t help herself. She just has to know.

“Aren’t you full of questions?” Rhea nudges a knee against her, then sighs. “Hmm, I think it was Marcus’ fifth birthday party. We’d been split up for a good while at that point, and we were good, but we were feeling sentimental. A little drunk, too, and it just felt natural, to go there.”

She’s quiet for a moment.

“It felt good, you know? Familiar. Like catching up with an old friend, one you once knew like the back of your hand.”

She sounds a little wistful, like the thought of seeking out that familiarity again has crossed her mind more than once. It makes Beth tense up unwillingly, the creeping sense that she doesn’t know this man she’s been complicatedly entangled with for what feels like a lifetime as well as she thinks she does, as she hopes she does, clouding her mind.

so i know a lot of readers can feel a sense of….. threat, maybe, whenever rio is paired w/ anyone but beth. ive got a lot of theories about why that is and i understand that instinct, as much as i wanna hush it myself, personally. but i really don’t wanna portray rhea as….completely unaffecting rio? i don’t want to write a fic where the man is the prize, the one whose approval other characters try to win the most. so i didn’t wanna write rhea as still harboring feelings for him, but at the same time i do really envision them as having a sense of comradery, of friendship and familiarity, and i think that would extent to sex.

i wanted beth to feel left out of what rhea and rio have, but at the same time make it clear that what rhea and rio have versus what beth and rio have versus what rhea and beth have are very different things and they’re almost incomparable. like, rhea and rio have history and friendship and trust in a way that beth lacks with both of them – something i also tried to convey when they actually get down and dirty, but as rhea says herself before, they’re exes, they’re parents, it’s not that complicated. what they feel for each other isn’t complicated, unlike what rhea feels for beth, unlike what beth feels for rhea, unlike what beth and rio feel for each other.

Rhea studies her face, her silence. “What’s it to you?” she repeats, voice not unkind. Beth shrugs.

“I’m just trying to understand, I guess. Make sense of him.”

“Good luck with that,” Rhea snorts, knocking back her glass of wine in one go. And just with that, the clouds dissipate, the sun back into view.

with all that i said before in mind – i also didn’t want beth to actually be threatened by rhea and rio’s relationship. it's fine for her to feel threatened – that’s actually fun to write and came in handy later, also in part two – but i wanted to make sure beth and rhea aren’t in some sort of competition for rio – which is why i literally made the clouds dissipate here. if anything, i wanted rio and rhea to be in competition, which, in a way they actually are in this fic! but again as i said before, the different relationships between the characters really aren’t all that comparable, so there is no real competition, not in any ‘direction’.

i really enjoyed diving into the different relationships and i wanted to give all of them their own appeal. i think what rhea and beth have is something unique and fascinating, something rio can’t touch or fulfill, just like beth can’t ever have with rio what rhea and rio have, exactly, just like rhea isn’t what rio is for beth. im trying to dive into that even more in the second part, also considering what the prompter asked (rio and beth confronting their feelings the day after), meaning there is brio endgame. but……i love beth and rhea together too much to just completely upend everything i built for them, so…………….. as my fic notes say, marcus, baby, you have some parenting throuple action in your future.

thank you so much for asking and letting me ramble!!!!

fic bts questions

#ask #ask games #sothischickshe #my fic #brio fic #GGPAT2020

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humanoidkid · 3 years

Text

Caesar Antonio Zeppeli x Gender-Neutral Reader.

Warning(s):Mentions of blood, if that’s how you say it?, smoking(??).

Summary: This will take place in Caesar's death, but you’re dying instead of him. And Caesar will replace Joseph.

This is gonna be short, well idk.

——

"It's Wamuu's Divine Sandstorm. I’m sure of it." Caesar said, Lisa Lisa behind him, listening, terrified.

"So, that means ___ Is—" Lisa Lisa said,

3rd person POV (??):

After being absorbed in Wamuu's Sandstorn, your body was down the stairs, while Wamuu was up the stairs.

Wamuu chuckles.

"You had grown so much in so little time, I’m satisfied." Wamuu said, looking at your body below him. "I haven’t had a fight like that in ages now. Warrior of Hamon." He said, groaning afterwards.

Wamuu fell to the ground, heavily breathing. "And it was a close one as well." Putting his hand to his chest.

"If the wind of my divine sandstorm hadn’t had the strength to blow your (idk what to say here, just idk, pretend your hamon is there or smth.) senses to oblivion. . ." Wamuu looked at you. "- I have no idea how I would’ve stopped the light before it destroyed me." He finished. "And even if the mighty Lord Kars, who cannot use wind, had been the one to first note your presence and confront you as I did and faced your power-" Wamuu groaned, his wound reversing on his hand. "-If he had prevailed, he most certainly would've been in the far worst shape than I find myself now. Huh?" Wamuu said, looking up at you.

You were right infront of him, heavily breathing. You slowly walked up to him. "Enough. You will not fight again, for you have nothing left with which to fight. My Divine Sandstorm has shredded your body beyond any chance of survival." Wamuu spoke. You cry out, "Stop. The battle is over." Wamuu said to you. You groaned, trying to throw a punch which was too weak to hurt Wamuu, he had stopped you from hitting him. "You have no more Hamon with which to continue. See?" He said. "-You've almost completely bled out." You panted. "That means you have no hope." He said, looking at you. You still were panting, while trying to throw punches at Wamuu, blood splattered out of you. You threw weak punches on his body here and there. "Stop ___." Wamuu said. You continued and swung a punch to the face and missed, "Goodbye. Your life, and all you once were, has ended." Wamuu said, walking away from you, you were about to slip off the stairs, you caught yourself and jumped at Wamuu, he had turned around and took his lip ring off, you fell off the stairs after. The ceiling cracked. "My lip ring with the antidote, why did you take it?" Wamuu spoke, looking down at you."

"I— I’m not afraid to die here. . . But I am a proud member of the (Your last names.) family, so, you see, it’s in my blood." You said, Wamuu still looking and hearing. "Something like this might mean absolutely nothing to a demented inhuman monster like you." You spoke. "(Let’s say you’re talking about your past about your family here.), it’s tradition." You groaned, spitting loads of blood out your mouth. "I have to do something." You continued, you groaned again. "I— I can’t let my life's flame just sputter out to the darkness." You said. "This is the (Last name's.) family spirit, handed down from the past to ensure the family's future. It's the human spirit!" You said, holding the lip ring in both of your hands. The ceiling was beginning to break. "Ceasar, this is the last of my Hamon!" You spoke loud enough to let them hear. Hamon(??) began to surround you, making something out of your own Hamon. "Take it from me!" You said loudly.

Caesar POV:

"-Take it from me!" Both of us gasped. "Did you hear that?" I said to Lisa Lisa . "-It sounded like ___ screaming." I continued. "Yes, I heard it." Lisa Lisa said. "Oh no, ___ can’t . . ." Lisa Lisa spoke.

Back to you.:

After using last of your Hamon, heel sitting, the ceiling broke, you awaited your fate. "___!" You heard Caesar say, before being crushed. Wamuu watched you, then noticing something, you used your hamon to make an (For example a bubble like Caesar did, those weird Easter eggs?? Idk...) "They made a (insert object lol) from their blood." Wamuu said. "They must have used every last bit of their Hamon to make it. Before they died, they saved it for their friends rather than using it to try and destroy me." Wamuu continued, using his arm(??) use wind and absorb(??) the Hamon, he focused before stopping. "I’ll let it go." He said, walking off. "But not because I’m sentimental about them. Their talent as a fighter was undeniable. They have my deep respect as a fellow warrior. I will hold you and the last moments we spent together forever in my memory, ___." He walked off. "A human splendid and as fleeting as the Hamon they conjured." Wamuu (??) said.

3rd Person's POV (?):

Caesar had moved a rock? out the way, Lisa walking behind. Caesar had ran next to where the crossed rock with your body underneath it was. "The place is a wreck. A Divine Sandstorm did all this, and ___ was caught right inside the heart of it." Caesar said. Lisa and Caesar gasped, looking at the stairs where your blood was at. Near the stairs was the object you had made with the lip ring in it. "A (insert object lawl)." Caesar said.(Caesar will get the Hamon.) "C— Could It be? Look at that." Caesar said, going to grab your object you had made with Hamon. Right before he was gonna grab it, your Hamon struck his hand. He gasped. "Inside is Wamuu's Lip Ring he had." Caesar spoke. Caesar quickly grabbed onto the object, when he got it into his hands, your Hamon beginning to brighten (I guess that’s how you say it..) . He groaned. "This Hamon energy feels really strange. W— Woah!" Caesar had said. The object broke. The lip ring now in his hands. Caesar gasped. "You know, I haven’t been able to bring myself to call ___'s name since we made our way into this place." Caesar said, holding the lip ring in his hands while staring at it. "-It’s because I’m afraid there'll be no answer. If I came in here and cried out their name, there might not be any response in return." Caesar continued, his hands beginning to shake as Lisa was behind him, watching. "The Hamon contained in that object told me everything I needed to know." He said, closing his hands with the lip ring still inside. "Right here, just a few moments ago . . . ___ died." Caesar spoke up. He grunted. "___, you bastard. You had to be a damn showoff right up until the very end, and then you leave a precious gift like this for me." He said. "___, where are you? Where the hell are you sleeping? I’ll find you, ___. I’ll dig you up." Caesar continued, digging around for you. "___!-" Caesar was about to cry out until Lisa had paused him. "Caesar." Lisa said, Caesar had stopped digging around, looking back at Lisa. "This isn’t the time to search or grieve. We have work to do." Lisa said, pulling a back of cigarettes out, and taking on out. "There are two of them and two of us. That trail of blood is leading up the stairs. Tells me that ___ significantly wounded Wamuu." Lisa spoke. "We’re in the middle of enemy territory. Let’s go finish this fight." She continued. "Caesar, come on." She spoke again. Right when Caesar looked at her, she turned away from him. "She can’t even manage to shed a single tear for ___." Caesar grunted, being standing. "Coach Lisa Lisa, your cigarette, it’s backwards." Caesar said. Lisa was beginning to get emotional. "Coach Lisa Lisa in our coach, so she always has to keep a cool exterior. I know she wants to cry as much as I do." Caesar said to himself.

"They treated her like a goddess, and knew her longer than iv known her." He said to himself again. Caesar looked back at the lip ring in his hand. "I have to try and hold my feelings back." Caesar said. "___, I know you always thought I was (what you think of him.), but sometimes I do understand the feelings of those around me. I might finally be learning. I swear, I will fight them both like the devil until there’s nothing left of them." Caesar said seriously. "I’ll avenge you, ___. Your spirit is with me." He said. A cardboard on the window fell off, Lisa gasped and turned her head. Caesar gasped at where the light was hitting. It was you. Your blood. You were under the rock. "Blood, their blood." Caesar said. "This is where they fell." Lisa looked at where you were dead, getting more emotional. "___." Lisa said to herself. Tears began shedding down her face, she sobbed. "___." Lisa said. "___!!" Caesar yelled out, tears threatening to fall. Caesar fell onto the crossed rock, sobbing.

3rd person POV:

They were deep in enemy territory. Kars and Wamuu were very nearby, but the two simply couldn’t help themselves. Caesar called out ___'s name. Lisa Lisa's tears flowed freely. But their heartbroken cries of grief were only answered by cold silence.

___ was gone. As they mourned them, they took solance in one simple fact. Though their body has died, but their soul would live on through them.

Rest In Peace, Y/N L/N.

——

Ok, my hands hurt there, sorry if it’s kind of bad, I’m rlly tired atm, now, I’ll be heading to sleep. Goodnight!

#jojos bizarre adventure #caesar zeppeli #battle tendancy #tumblr #lisa lisa #jjba #part 2 #anime

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mousehole5000 · 4 years

Text

tgcf lb the fourth chapter 23 - 33

“hmmm looks like theres people in the fertilizer. i shan’t say a word” ok king of minding your business i guess

oh looks like it has a long tongue. oh i dont care for that at all

The build of their bodies were similar, and atop their shoulders, all of them carried cudgels that were densely covered in sharp wolf teeth. It created an illusion that a pack of wolves had transformed into people. attack of the furries? okay.

It was easy to comprehend after thinking about it. This person had been buried in the desert sand for fifty to sixty years. The flesh of his body had long been transformed into nutrients for those Kindred Moon Herbs. He had been entirely consumed until the only thing remaining was a mere skeleton. when this book isnt being very funny its being very grim!!! yikes!! also this was an episode of hannibal

Ke Mo definitely had never heard someone ask to go first in this place. His eyes widened and looked like bells as he asked in astonishment, “You want to go first? For what reason??” Xie Lian naturally couldn’t reply and say it was because he wasn’t scared. Thus, he chose an answer that conformed with the norms of society. “General, these are merely innocent merchants just passing through. They even have a child amongst them.” - love watching the immortals trying to act like humans. would have been funny if xie lian had just hit em with “well i cant die so its chill”

That young man had crossed his arms. With an indifferent gaze, he thoughtfully sized up the deep Sinners’ Pit.　　 A bad premonition sprung up unbidden in Xie Lian’s heart. “San Lang?”　　 When he heard Xie Lian call him, San Lang turned his head. He smiled faintly and said, “Everything’s fine.” - edgy bastard lets go

What Ke Mo had been cursing was, “It’s this slut again!” - me when a corpse gets up and knocks all my soldiers into the sinner’s pit what a relatable reaction

oh now im switching translations here we go

does hua cheng just straight up transform in the darkness? edgy bastard. also hualian having their little discussion while ke mo keeps trying to attack im still amused by these kinds of shenanigans

banyue guoshi ma’am your backstory.... rough. im on your side im sure you had your reasons

why do the soldiers keep her up near the top of the pit of death if she keeps getting up and knocking them all in? am i missing something? or are they just that dumb/dead fjdf;adjsf

fu yao: y’all alive? lmk. if not ill guess ill go back to the the merchants who totally promised to stay put in the circle. in case its not clear i do not care what happens to said merchants.

hua xie... of course thats the fucking name he picked. also looks like that wasnt so much a parallel being drawn between xie lian and the general as it was the same exact line

fasdlkfjsldfdsf god xie lian really has a hard time. you help some orphans, you try to keep people from dying, you try to save an orphan and you trip and get trampled but you cant die so you wake up in a river full of corpses and just float away. actually tbh i really appreciate him as an immortal character this is the shit i like to see. love xie lian ready to defend himself from the slander of being completely flattened. he was only mostly flattened

cunty vibes so strong all the wildlife in a 10 foot radius just chuck up the deuces and split

ITS RAINING SCORPION SNAKES. THIS IS NOT THE TIME TO PUSH A REVEAL. love that the umbrella is just always on hand

okay i guess fucking. everyone is here now why not. we’re all in a hole covered in scorpions and everyone knows each other but not everyone is admitting it but we know. we know. still not 100% sure what is going wrt pei su/pei ming/general pei/pei junior im a bit confused idk

okay i cant explain it but im attached to him now.

i like banyue. i feel like theres going to be a few background female characters i really like but im not so sure theyll get a lot of development. wind master come back you and your lady friend i would like to know more of you. anyway fuck this pei guy(s?). also they just put banyue in a jar? fair enough

is xie lian another mc who cant cook? so much so that everyone who knows him just leaves if he offers? love that for him

okay we’ve got ONE identity admitted. i liked how casual it was. i wonder if hc was waiting for this bc yeah he was not subtle i feel like he definitely wanted xie lian to know. if he didnt then bruh. get lessons in how to act human please

screaming. no words. cant wait to meet him. and hua cheng please keep up the good work. i love that now we’re just. sitting. chatting. chilling. okay.

yeah it makes sense that hes an immortal i think you would have to take this attitude after 800 years

this authors note about not writing ugly characters.... fjkdalfdjfa obviously i dont think holding beauty as such high standard is good it warps our views and values etc etc but also i would expect nothing less from a story like this. yes we know everyone is going to be beautiful theyre immortal and beautiful and young forever

lmao at exile being a temporary banishment for crimes.... yeah that sounds about right tbh. rich elite fuckers

oh good we haven’t forgotten about human face disease boy. im wondering when we’re going to find out how important he will be bc he clearly matters otherwise he’d have been resolved already also yeah how tf does he have that disease that sure sounds like an issue

i dont like him. pei ming i also wish you to die of syphilis. also of fucking COURSE xie lian’s cultivation method doesnt let him read dirty books

im just saving this because its funny

okay lang qianqiu i see you falling asleep at the meeting. i like you already but you are not above suspicion. actually you know what i suspect you already. crown prince of the kingdom that conquered xianle? idk if youre good or bad but you know something i learned this lesson from beloved morally grey huaisang

okay last comment for this post. mxtx’s little authors note about everyone being straight except for hualian but you can make up headcanons as long as you dont split hualian up fjdlfakdj. i just find it silly to write a story thats so clearly for an audience that understands shipping and ships often and say not to split a specific couple up but i mean to be fair i kind of get it that sentiment as an author and not wanting people to do certain things with your work, although again i think its silly

i guess the point of this note is just to be clear that no one else is going to get together so no one argues about it and i dont actually know much about how this was published but it seems like it was serialized so i can see why that would be an issue. personally i dont really care for knowing stuff like that ahead of time but i know a lot of people do and it seems to be thing in other cnovels ive seen to know whos going to get together as far as major characters are concerned i guess thats part of the draw and i guess i kind of get it

not sure how much other romance will be in this but also i think its kind of ridiculous to be like “these are the only two gay characters” in a cast that just keeps growing but whatever shes really leaving that work up to the readers to make it happen which they’ll do anyways so whatever. also there had to be at least one of the 33 officials who fought hua cheng who thought he was hot. theres no way that didnt happen

#if theres a note that explains why some of the immortals have a whisk can someone point me to towards it?#im assuming its not actually a kitchen whisk although that would be something #is it like the feather dusters songxiao carry?#tgcf liveblog #mouse mumbles #i guess this is what im doing with my time now

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amazingflyingdick · 4 years

Text

big wing.

WHO: Dick Grayson @amazingflyingdick & Jason Todd @thatsjasonfkntodd WHERE: The hospital WHEN: Backdated to July 4th, 2020 WHAT: Jason goes to see Dick once he’s awake

Jason: Slade had said he intended to stay with Dick until he woke up, and Jason had taken him at his word that he meant that. Besides, it was complicated for him to go in and out. Dick wasn’t a cop anymore but he had been for a long while, and even if nobody was there on official duty he didn’t want to deal with crossing paths with Jim Gordon or anyone else if they were visiting. Moreover, he just didn’t want to sit there and stare silently while Dick ‘slept,’ with only the monitors to listen to or the occasional voice in the hall. So he hadn’t gone back in the space of time between the night it all went down and the day he woke from the coma. Those had been long days.

Even after Bruce told him Dick was awake, he didn’t know what to expect from that. He hadn’t asked for any details, but had labored over the idea of going back to the hospital for a few hours before actually doing it. He didn’t want to have to navigate other people being there, but figured it was inevitable. It was with some measure of surprise, then, that he didn’t see anyone else through the sliver of window in the door when he moved to open it. Maybe Slade hadn’t stayed after all, or no one else had had the chance to arrive yet. Either way, he pushed his hand back through his hair and opened the door.

“You up?” Dick: The first day Dick spent in and out of consciousness. It wasn't until later that he was having longer conversations - first with Slade, then with Bruce and the neurologist, who'd asked him a lot of questions. He always had someone right there next to him. Eventually as he managed to stay awake for longer stretches, he tried to assure them both that he could be left on his own long enough for them to eat, or for Bruce to answer a phone call. It was a rare moment of silence when Slade left to see about more blankets and Bruce was called out by another doctor. How many were there? Dick had a hard time keeping track. He'd been introduced to three so far.

Jason's voice made his eyes open and his focus lock on the door. He hadn't asked Bruce about his brothers. There was no reason they should have to be here, standing around him and worrying about whether or not he'd wake up, even though he wanted to see them badly. Just seeing Jason made him instantly remember everything from that night, even though he only managed to recall bits and pieces of that conversation when the doctors asked after it. He'd been confused about where and when they were.

"Yup. About to run a couple laps around the nurse's station," he replied in a hoarse voice, smirking faintly. Jason: Joking was a good sign. The serious moments were the worst ones. They felt final, like a say-it-before-you-can’t thing. He didn’t want another one for a long, long time. “That’ll be pretty with your ass hanging out of the hospital gown.” Was there anything worse than those damn things?

The doctors hadn’t really been able to give them any idea of what to expect when Dick woke up. He’d sort of braced for some kind of memory loss, a shift of some kind, and maybe that was still a possibility. Dick recognized him, though, so it wasn’t as bad as it could have been. There were a handful of worse case scenarios they’d already avoided. “How’s the hole in your head?”

He didn’t get too close to the bed. Aside from the first time he’d gone into the room after they took Dick there, he’d sort of avoided it. Now that he was awake, Jason sort of had it in his head that Bruce would hopefully get him moved to the manor. If the life saving part was done, the recovery didn’t have to happen at the real hospital, did it? Dick: "Hey, I've been told that's one of my best features." Dick saw how much weight it seemed to take from Slade and Bruce's shoulders when he'd managed a joke. It showed he still had some grip on his facilities if he could demonstrate even a fraction of the quick wit he had before. It didn't come as easily as before, but he tried not to over-analyze why.

Even though Jason wasn't too close to the bed, he had no trouble making him out. His vision was better than it was earlier. That was a good sign, at least. "Which one?" He smiled slightly, his eyes falling closed as he took a deep breath. "Better." They'd given him something for the pain, which made it hard to stay awake. "If I fall asleep on you, it's a total accident. I swear."

He wanted to ask Jason to come closer, wanted to say other things, too, but he resisted the urge to make the moment too serious. "They said I was out for a couple days. How's Roy? Did he go back to work?" Jason: “I’d say it’s pretty overrated.” Jason knew better than most people what a head injury could do to a person. Even after he’d got better from being dead and buried, he definitely hadn’t been himself. He’d been a shell of a person, really, just running on survival instinct with odds and ends of confusing memories floating around that he couldn’t make sense of. The Lazarus Pit had fixed it, but sometimes he still wondered whether or not fixed wasn’t really the right word. In any case, he didn’t expect Dick to just bounce back. He wasn’t optimistic enough for that, anyway.

He dismissed the comment about sleep with a shake of his head. “That’s a convenient excuse. Maybe I’ll use it sometime. If I fall asleep on you it was an accident.” But if he did, Jason would take that as his cue to go. He knew that it was unlikely to just be the two of them for long.

“He was going to, but he took some extra time after...” Jason made a vague gesture toward Dick, “all this. He’s alright. We’re getting there.” Roy had made it through the worst of it, physically, without caving. Dick: "You would say that." The doctors seemed surprised that he was able to respond to questions clearly and without much confusion. It was the questions asking after detail that could get him tripped up. That made Dick feel unnerved and he would get frustrated with his own inability to recall specifics. His memory was never as good as Barbara's, but he'd learned how to retain a lot of information after so many years of practice. It scared him that he could lose that overnight. The doctor reassured him that it was a minor setback that could get better over time, brains made new pathways and all of that, but most of the assurances fell on deaf ears.

Snorting softly, his hand moved against the cool railing. When he'd first woken up his wrists had been restrained. The doctors explained that he kept trying to yank out his IVs. "Now you can't use it on me, because I'll remember you said it." Or would he? Dick didn't let himself linger on it.

Already he'd had the fear that Roy's recovery was put in jeopardy because of this. He winced. "But this didn't... this didn't set him back, did it?" There was no telling how long Jason had been away from the apartment. Roy was so freshly recovered that a relapse was very possible. Jason: “Weirder if I agreed with you.” He didn’t want to spend any amount of time thinking about Dick’s ass. Plenty of other people did that, probably, so he’d leave it to them. If he did manage to make it to the Nurse’s Station eventually, they might appreciate it too.

Jason had to wonder how much of their conversation in the alley that Dick actually remembered. For purely selfish reasons, he hoped that some of it was lost. He’d got a little desperate, a little more sentimental than he would have otherwise, and since Dick had survived...he was fine letting all of that go.

“I don’t think so.” He couldn’t guarantee it. He’d not been as attentive in the days after Dick was shot, but he’d still been there. He’d still spent that time with Roy. He had to believe he would have noticed if he’d backslid. Dick: "Point taken." It was an easy back and forth that took minimal effort on his part. Dick enjoyed the ease in conversation, because it made it easy to forget how desperate Jason had been the night he found him. He hadn't ever heard him sound like that before and he never wanted to hear it again.

But he didn't want to act like it never happened. He didn't want to shelve it, like Bruce would, and bring it out only when it was once again a possibility that they might not ever see each other again.

The news made him relax, but only a little. He wouldn't feel convinced until he saw Roy himself, but he didn't even know when that would be. Jason was the first person to show up outside of Bruce and Slade. He was glad they were here, but he wouldn't pretend there wasn't tension. "Hey," he finally said, his eyes still closed. "You promised you'd go to the circus with me. Don't think I forgot about that." Jason: So much for not remembering those parts. He’d really hoped he forgot the circus part. Jason had been sitting on the story forever. Once in awhile he thought about it, but he’d never told Dick and never really planned to. It was just the only thing that had popped into his head in that moment, and keeping him awake had been more important than protecting some dumb moment with his dad. Still, he felt...the whole thing felt raw. Everything they’d said. That he’d said.

“Must have been a hallucination. Coma dream?” He didn’t even try to sound that convincing about it. The odds of them ever getting enough of a break from the city’s bullshit to go anywhere or do anything seemed pretty small right then, and Dick had a long road ahead of him either way. Dick: Dick sighed faintly, but he didn't argue. Despite the distance between them, his vision was clear enough to take note of Jason's expression and anything else he could read on his face. Not that Jason was easy to read. He wasn't like Tim or Damian, both of them predictable in their insecurities and doubts, and he'd never been particularly receptive to Dick's offers of support.

That wasn't what this was about. Not really. His fingers dug into the bar and he tried to keep his voice light. He had the feeling that if it got too heavy Jason would dash out of the room so fast that he'd be a blur. "Come here, s'not like I'm contagious." Jason: He was right, of course. Dick wasn’t sick. There was no reason for the distance he kept putting between him and the bed. He’d had surgery, his head was properly dealt with. Still, he’d not totally managed to shake the image of what it had been like before. The sight of the gauze immediately running red with blood, Dick’s hair slick and stuck to his head, was something that that kept lingering in his mind. While Roy was in withdrawal, he hadn’t been sleeping for long stretches even when he was in his own bed. The trend continued, and he couldn’t remember the last time that he’d been plagued by such frequent fucked up dreams. So, he’d just avoided looking at very much behind the wires and the monitors.

“Stupid might be contagious,” he offered, but he did take a few steps forward just to avoid having to explain why he hadn’t been. “Hope you enjoyed your big nap.” Dick: Even though Dick had been on the other side of it, it didn't take a lot of imagining for him to think about what it was like for Jason. It wasn't something he should have been left to deal with alone. The fact that Dick had relied on him so heavily to keep it together during that time, even though he'd hardly had another choice, brought a wave of guilt. He knew it couldn't be easy for Jason to be here. Not just because it meant leaving Roy on his own during a time that was still tenuous, but because it kept everything fresh and maybe a little too real.

He had to close his eyes, but he wasn't going to let himself fall back asleep. "Hey..." Dick's throat was thick, but he pushed past the feeling. "I'm sorry." Jason: “The fuck are you sorry for? Getting shot in the head?” It was true that Jason was prone to blaming people things maybe a little unfairly. Rather than lean in to the random chaos of the universe, it was easier to find something or someone to pin it on. He preferred assigning fault and giving his anger some kind of direction. In this case, that assignment went to NOVA. It wasn’t Dick’s to apologize for.

Jason frowned as Dick closed his eyes, but the expression was only there briefly before he’d wiped it away. “It’s over and done.” Dick: Dick didn't know how to explain what he was sorry for, not without risking the possibility that Jason would feel patronized, so he said nothing. Instead he opened his eyes, watching him quietly, and tried not to give away that his vision still blurred around the edges.

There was a sinking feeling in his chest. It left him with an odd heaviness, something he tried to keep out of his voice. "Yeah," he said quietly. "I'll be out of here in no time." Jason: “No you won’t,” Jason said flatly. “I don’t know if you’re saying that for my sake, but I’m not five. You got shot in the head.” And Jason had been shot before. He knew how long it took to recover from even when the wound was somewhere much less alarming. He didn’t have much use for forced optimism. As far as he was concerned, it was a fucking miracle that he’d survived in the first place.

He finally stepped close enough to put his hand on the bar that ran alongside the bed. At least Dick wasn’t restrained anymore. He’d wanted to argue with them about it, but it wasn’t like he was a damn doctor. “You’ll be out when you’re out. But you’re not dead.” Dick: "I'm saying it for my own sake. I hate these places." Dick didn't want to think about being stuck in the hospital. He was already feeling like he wanted to crawl out of his skin. It was a bit of wishful thinking, maybe, but he had to be hopeful. The doctors were suggesting it could be weeks. There was absolutely no way he could keep Slade and Bruce from killing each other for weeks.

No, he wasn't dead, but not even he could brush aside how close he'd been. If the bullet had been a little more to the left, or the right, things could be a lot bleaker than they were right now. "I decided against it. It's like you said, no new members." Jason: “Me too. Always have.” Even though it had still sucked to need it, he’d always been grateful that Bruce had ways of dealing with most injuries at the manor. Alfred could do as much as any nurse, and he had other people on retainer for the rest. Usually. Getting shot like Dick had been...there hadn’t been another option.

“It’s a really exclusive club and we don’t want you so,” he managed a shrug and chewed at the inside of one cheek. “They said you might have some memory loss. Do you?” He wanted real answers, not projections. Dick: Dick didn't like being immobile. Waking up restrained felt like a nightmare. He was afraid to fall back asleep just in case they found it necessary to do it again. The wraps were still fastened to the side of the railings.

"I don't know. Don't think so." Then again, how was he supposed to know if he couldn't remember? "Test me." The thought made the feeling in his chest heavier and tighter all at once. He didn't really want to know the answer, but he knew he had to face it sooner or later. If there were things he'd forgotten, the only thing he could do was try to regain those memories again. Jason: What could he ask him? Dick had remembered the circus comment, so all the short term memory wasn’t gone. “What’s your dumbass nickname for me that I hate?” Of course he said that to Roy about Jaybird too, then ended up missing it when he’d broken things off. Dumb. ‘Little Wing’ was just as bad, probably worse. It had been around for years, though. “When is Alfred’s birthday?” Trick question.

He hesitated for a second, but eventually dragged one of the chairs over toward the bed so he could sit down. He was tired. No, he was past tired. He wanted to take Roy’s suggestion and let someone knock him out with a sledgehammer for awhile. Dick: "Little Wing." Dick didn't miss a beat on that one. There was a vague memory of him saying it in the alley. He'd said it once or twice before then, too, for the first time since Jason's return. The nickname slipped out before he'd thought twice about it. There was no way to take it back later. "None of us know Alfred's birthday," he began hesitantly, but then his brow furrowed. "He won't tell us. So we have to pick we want to celebrate." Oh, no. "...Right? Or did I forget it?"

He took in Jason's face and his obvious exhaustion, frowning. "You look awful." Jason: Jason rolled his eyes at both responses. “Well, the annoying parts are still in tact. And no, you didn’t forget. It’s an eternally unsolved mystery. Alfred is an ancient and immortal being with no birthday.” So he got all the birthdays instead and cake on whatever one of them they picked,

He sat up a little straighter and shrugged. “Says the guy with with a sieve for a head.” What he wasn’t going to do was listen to some lecture about self care from the dude laying in the hospital. Dick: "I passed?" Dick gave him a crooked looking grin, trying to hide the very real relief that flooded him at the realization that he hadn't forgotten half of his life and just didn't realize. "Alfred was here earlier." Alfred had acted completely unperturbed by the situation and had chided Dick for watching TV when he should be resting.

It bothered him that Jason wasn't getting enough sleep, but he knew he'd be doing the same thing if he were in Jason's shoes. Dick always had the habit of overextending himself. Calling Jason out for doing the same thing felt too hypocritical. "You're more like me than you realize. Horrible, I know." Jason: “Sure, you passed a two question test. I’ll send your diploma over tomorrow.” He could’ve come up with some other questions, but if he was being honest he was okay with just accepting the decent outcome from a couple. If Dick had memory issues, he’d find that out on his own. Jason could roll with it not being blind optimism since he’d made effort to prove otherwise.

“Gross. Take it back or I’m leaving right now.” There were worse things in the world, but he wasn’t going to tell him that. He’d done enough admitting, enough vulnerability. It felt like all he’d done was feel raw for two damn months between Dick and Roy and all the rest. Dick: "I guess we could round it up to five, if you have more," Dick offered with a smirk. In all honesty, he was wary of whether or not he'd get more questions right. Avoidance wasn't something he should let himself give into, it was a hollow victory in the end, but it was a hard habit to shake. He didn't like to admit when things might not be just fine. This was already a situation he hadn't been able to handle on his own.

That made him laugh, even though the sound was hoarse. "Where do you think I got the nickname?" Little Wing had come from his own moniker, not Bruce's, because from the beginning he'd seen a lot of himself in Jason. No one knew how it was for Dick in the early years, before he found a place to put his anger. Jason: “Maybe later.” Something might crop up, but he was alright giving him a participation award in the mean time. He hadn’t really gone to the hospital to play a game of trivia about their lives. The motivation for it was morbid even for Jason, and for once he didn’t completely have the stomach for it.

He’d never really asked. The first time Dick had called him that he’d almost liked it, though maybe he’d brushed it off at the time. Later, it had seemed patronizing. Now, it was little more than a joke. “Pulled it out of your ass, I guess. Maybe you should call me Big Wing now.” Dick: Dick nodded. Maybe that was better. Diving into the past with Jason was always risky. Sometimes it was best to leave it alone, even though there were plenty of things he actively remembered from that time. Some of them were good things, but he didn't know if Jason looked at them the same way now.

"You'd need at least another two inches on me." Jason was taller than him and calling him little anything didn't really make sense anymore, but the nickname tended to slip without him even realizing it. He'd never expected to use it again. It sneaked up on him. Jason: "I think I've got the two inches on you elsewhere," he said with a grin, unable to resist the perfect set-up that Dick had given him for the joke. "Not that I'll be asking around." He already knew way too much about private Dick than he'd ever, ever wanted to.

He leaned back a little in the seat. By the looks of him, he wouldn't be awake for long. Jason figured he'd take off when he passed out. Besides, the likelihood of him being alone in that room with him for any real length of time was small. He didn't want to deal with Bruce, and he sure as fuck didn't want to deal with Slade, even if all they had between them was silence like most of the days they'd both been in cells. Dick: "I'd say prove it, but I think I'd rather take you at your word." After the whole discovery in his file, the entire family knew way more about Dick's life than he ever wanted them to. Tim had questions and he didn't mind giving him answers, but he'd always been private about things like that. Jason living at his apartment while Slade dropped in and out had been awkward, even though Dick thought he'd been pretty discreet about it.

The television was off. He felt around for the remote and offered it to Jason. "Find something funny." The last time he woke up it had been playing some documentary on how cotton picking machines worked, which had just made him go right back to sleep. Jason: "That's what I thought." Would he have argued about it if Dick insisted otherwise? Probably. It might have been nice to be a dumbass for a little while, considering where they were and why.

If Jason kept on the TV it was usually just for noise or someone else's sake. He'd spent a lot of mindless hours watching it with Roy as they were wading through the withdrawal symptoms, and when he'd stayed with Dick they'd watched some movies that he did not altogether hate. He'd even enjoyed some. Still, left to his own devices he didn't watch much of it and it took some clicking around before he found something that he caught at the right time to hear a laugh. Some cop show set in Brooklyn. It'd work.

As he sat there, half paying attention and half just letting his mind drift, he felt a buzz in his pocket. Text from Roy. He almost put off answering it until he was ready to leave, but if something was wrong he couldn't ignore it.

hey what about dick's friend. the gold guy? Dick: The cop show reminded him of something he wasn't sure he'd told Jason about yet. "I quit the SCPD," he said quietly, his eyes half open. It was something he'd been considering for some time even before the events of the breakout. After that, he really had little choice but to go through with it. Gordon had shown up to speak to him about the events of the shooting, but he hadn't been able to tell him much, and he avoided the subject of Jason altogether. It was better to pretend that he'd been unconscious from the second the bullet entered his skull.

Jason's phone going off made his eyes open more and he glanced aside at him. "Do you know what happened to my phone?" He asked, even though he hadn't given it much thought until then. "Do you have it? Or Bruce?" Jason: “Yeah...” he wasn’t sure who had found out first, though it was probably, but they’d made the connection between the timing of Dick leaving the force and NOVA sending someone after him. It couldn’t just be a coincidence. “About time. You’ve gotta stop acting like you can be ten different people.” Jason wasn’t one to lecture, but it didn’t take a genius to know that Dick stretched himself far, far too thin.

The message distracted him and he only gave a grunt of “Bruce” in response as Roy answered again. Jason felt his heart skip as he realized who Roy was talking about. As soon as he did, he got to his feet. “Is your friend Josh still in town?”

#c: discord #dick grayson #jason todd

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macklives · 5 years

Text

session 63 end

okayyy. neat-fucking-o. thats done and boy OH FUCKING BOY i have a lot to say. and this is going to get mildly serious. sorry. theres a lot to uncover this session which basically is just one huge overall plot point. the whole timeline shindig. the thing that has messed me up for a few hours ngl.

man.... this is gonna be a long one. im not even exaggerating. (still, a tldr at the end)

so, the main thing besides from the time shindig plot, which is both important and essential and precious: DAVESPRITE <3

k cool. ill expand on that throughout this whole note, but would rather like to make a whole analogy first before i do so.

so, to start off from last session, dave went back in time to fix jade and john’s death.

but i guess, from what ive read, GC never realized what she did was bad. she basically screwed everyone over and dave had to go back to fix things, which yes, does sound bad. but honestly? i dont think she really realized how bad it was until davesprite had the talk with her. and now they are both friends i take it, shocking development. but thats between davesprite, rather than dave himself so there may be two different views on how he sees GC. anyways, it was pretty bad. i wont just forget that. i love her character but she killed off two characters (who thankfully are now alive), making dave a sprite and future rose to just not exist anymore. or... well.... she does, but she seemed to have fused with PRESENT rose. which i guess we’ll figure out how that works the next time we see her. which will probably be on derse.

but, tbh, GC wanted to apologize and felt bad about the whole situation. so im giving her the benefit of the doubt here.

now.. man...

can i take a second to analyze davesprite? and a little bit about the concept of john/dave’s friendship (just a tad)? ie the two greatest things in the world? thanks.

i think the thing that hit me the hardest was how davesprite (im calling him that to distinguish which dave im talking about but keep in mind i should be calling them both dave. but this makes it easier to write up.) well, davesprite explained how he’d continue to reset the timeline until john and jade are alive. which basically means he would use himself as a sacrifice to allow their survival. which ALSO means he cares more for them than he does himself. he’d throw his life away for them. he knew there was a possibility of him ceasing to exist if they reset the timeline again. he literally said it in such a nonchalant way that it makes me wonder how much his friends really mean to him. which in retrospect, is a lot. now pls keep this in mind for the next part.

now, dave also has so much appreciation towards himself. but not in the cocky way, of course. rather in the way that shows self love?? kinda?? like he genuinely wanted to hang with davesprite, brainstorm his comic and vice versa bc they both think their alt version is that cool. i know it should sound kinda narcissistic, but listen. a lot of people dont often appreciate themselves for who they are. and what i really want to emphasize on that here, is that this comes back to the whole putting himself before others thing. because that specific line i mentioned before is a BIG FUCKING DEAL. since dave thinks so highly of himself as a cool guy, rad dude, arent we so awesome type kid that he LITERALLY didnt care for his life in that one hot second. he made sure he was a pawn used to help out his friends rather than an actual human being who should worry about his life as well. he didnt care if he survived or not in the process of making sure everything was going alright. which is such a fucking leap from this whole self-respecting thing. its as if that didnt matter anymore. and that takes a fucking beating. that shows how much dave truly loves his friends. do you know how fucking BIG THAT WHOLE DEAL IS?

take john for example. dave didnt give two shits who the person on the other line was. he found out GC was the troll who killed john and basically threatened her with every inch of his life to make her back away from him. he knew what it would cause and said “fuck you” in bright and bold. all because he didnt want to see his friend die again. which? fair enough. and if we look back at the last session, god that could mess someone up. especially someone as young as 13. rose even got the worst end of the stick bc she flat out ceased to exist. but then again, thats in the same boat as jade/john. bc they all technically died. yet davesprite didnt. he remembers it. davesprite isnt just going to forget. he’s going to have surviver’s guilt for a long time, because being dave’s guide will forever be a reminder that he’s the version in the doomed timeline. he’s the only one who knows what happened, and he wont become the “true dave” in a sense that he’s now just considered “davesprite” and nothing more, since he cant just be dave since his timeline ended up fucked. not to mention he technically said he was fine with it, bc since it meant the others survived, he wouldnt care what happened to his life. even tho he should and it still probably hurts him idk. and that kills me a little. actually, more than a little. this is personally the most gut wrenching scene in homestuck (but i may just be speculating too much). but that wont stop him from helping dave and giving him all the answer, and also protecting john with everything he has.

and, man, i feel as if he’s gonna be such a good guide for dave. he already gave him the loot, the rundown and is very open about questions dave already has because he knows how tough it probably is to have a shitty guide. considering he was stuck with calsprite for 4 months. so obviously he’s going to help as much as possible. since he probably had little to none and didnt learn as much as he should have through the course of sburb. but now, as a guide, he can easily access all the info he lost during the pathway of his timeline. and share it with dave so he doesn’t struggle and actually completes the game rather than end up in a doomed timeline like himself.

but yes. dave’s blatant adoration for john basically saved them both in a way. and it seems as if its a little mutual considering john told dave he’d always believe him no matter what in the end. how he reconsidered everything, remembered the note and realized how good their friendship is to just give it up like that. and then vice versa. dave couldnt continue on the game without him or jade, so he went back in time. and showed his pissed-off protective side in order to save john again. which warms my heart bc they both mean so much to each other. and both got each other super sentimental gifts and wrote each other such touching cards.

and thats a good way to end the session, i think.

so there we have it. ive never wanted to hug a character so bad than i do with davesprite. i just hope everyone at least acknowledges him in some way, and gives him some amount of respect for what he did for everybody. ive only met him for like 10 pages, but i think he’s the most emotional character so far. and i guess since he’s dave himself, and i feel for dave based on his situation with bro, its safe to say i would protect him with my life. which i dont want to be *that* person but hey, its true. its just that he’s been through so much bullshit, and davesprite is the only survivor of his timeline, always will be reminded of it whenever he sees dave/john/rose/jade playing the game, is now a fucking sprite who wont be able to live his own path but just be a guide and god, i feel for him. i really do.

i shouldnt have written such a long note about davesprite.. but his whole story as to how he became a thing really got to me, alright?

i should write a tldr, cool. here yall go; i actually love davesprite, he’s been through some shit and he deserves hells of respect. GC is forgiven and we’ll find out next time how both version of rose.. fused together?

#homestuck #homestuck liveblog #hs63 #hs63 end

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