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aminiatureworld · 3 years

Text

Return to Me

Characters: Albedo, Scaramouche, Xiao, gn!reader

Word Count: 4,538

Warnings: Violence, Minor villain death

Premise: What is it like when the one you most adore becomes a stranger? And how’re you supposed to pick up the pieces?

In which the reader loses their memory.

Author’s Note: Just a note that this is not how actual amnesia works, and if you’re experiencing memory loss please contact your doctor.

That being said the amnesia is really good for angst and pining so how could I resist? It’s one of those guilty pleasure tropes I like to read and think of so I hope I did it justice.

Albedo

Albedo loved two things in this world, alchemy and you. They were what kept him centered, what kept him sharp and curious and full of life. So how could it be that one of those things should cause him such great unhappiness, and that said unhappiness should be the other’s suffering?

It had been a dangerous experiment, from the beginning Albedo was well aware of that. Testing whether or not elemental energy contained traces of elements via water could yield incredibly useful results about magic’s interaction with the ordinary world. But it could also backfire massively. Noxious gases, explosions, anything was possible.

But he’d thought he was prepared. After all you two had hiked all the way to the edges of Windrise specifically so no one would be around, and Albedo had even put up a barrier with the express intention of keeping anyone from getting hurt. It should’ve been fine, everything should’ve been fine, and yet when the Electro Slime condensate hit the water and the explosion knocked you both off your feet, slamming into the ground three meters from where you’d originated, he could only wonder how things had gone so wrong.

Picking himself up after a few agonizing seconds, every bone and muscle in his body stiff and aching from the sudden impact, Albedo crawled over to where you lay. To his horror you appeared to have hit a rock, and your head was bleeding slightly. Cupping your face in his hands the alchemist rasped out your name. The relief he felt when you opened your eyes was only momentary, replaced by shock and a sense of utter emptiness when you made out a groggy: “Who are you?”

Electro slime elements appear to contain no small amount of Chlorine, which, combined with only the hydrogen as a result of the electricity splitting the water molecules apart, caused an explosion. Although normally Albedo might’ve been thrilled by the discovery of an element only found mixed in the natural world, now he could only look upon that experiment with a raw sort of hatred that he hadn’t known he’d possessed. The ice around the alchemist’s heart had been burned away, and now all that remained was a burnt and shriveled up little thing, determined to make up for the lack of emotions by throwing its owner into the pits of despair.

Albedo spent all his time at first in the hospital and then in the apartment you two shared. You’d made an offhanded remark about how empty it looked, and Albedo had smiled awkwardly, not having the heart to tell you he could barely look at a piece of science equipment without a deep sense of loss. The doctors had said the effects should fade with time, but Albedo knew that there had been magic in the air, and a sick, twisted part of himself jeered that he was holding onto false hope.

It didn’t help that Albedo had been absolutely unprepared for the reality in which you couldn’t remember a thing about him, or your relationship. Never again would you rush up to him as you had before, excitement in your eyes and questions in your head. Memories of gathering crystal flies in the sunset and staying up all night, notes on old ruins swapped with sweet kisses and phrases that meant nothing at all, the beach where Albedo had sketched you for the first time and you had given him your first gift, all that was nothing to you, the stories of a stranger told by another.

“The first gift you gave me was a flower preserved in a solution of Cryo.” You said, words awkward and unsure in your mouth. Albedo knew that you weren’t really remembering it.

“That’s right,” he replied, voice light and calm, trying desperately to keep the despair from showing on his face. “It was a Cecilia. You said that it looked as if it was made of snow.”

“It sounds beautiful,” you replied, speaking more to yourself than to him, “I wish I could remember it.”

“You will someday, I’m sure of it.” He smiled, but the movement felt like too much effort to keep up and soon his face collapsed once more into an expression of melancholy. As if noticing this you smiled slightly in turn.

“Does it still exist?”

“Yes,” Albedo gazed out the window that faced you two. Beyond the buildings, only a few streets away lay his laboratory, locked away and gathering dust, “it does, but I cannot get it right now.”

“Oh,” you seemed at a loss for words, glancing down towards your hands, “that’s alright. I’d rather remember it on my own anyways.”

Albedo said nothing to this. Moving to place his hand on yours he paused. He was a stranger to you. This little act of comfort, all the little gestures he’d gotten so used to were now impossible. Dropping his hand to his side he moved to get you a glass of water, desperately trying to ignore the pain burning in his chest and in his heart.

_____

“Are these yours?”

Albedo placed the bag of groceries he’d just gotten on the floor. Moving over to where you were sitting, you were taking a break from adventuring until you remembered more, a decision made by the doctors for fear you’d forgotten how to control your vision. You had recently moved on from mostly sleeping to exploring your once familiar home, and now you sat curled on the couch; in your lap was a familiar book. Leaning over Albedo glanced at the page you were on.

“Yes, they’re mine. I like to sketch in my free time.”

“It’s beautiful,” you murmured, running your hand reverently over the slightly stained page, “I can see the different shades in the mountain, even if it’s only a pencil drawing.”

“I’m glad you think so,” Albedo smiled to himself, the memory of that day offering him some solace, “it was quite a difficult thing to draw.”

“It had an odd name.” You scrunched your nose slightly in concentration, an expression so cute Albedo could help but let out a huff of bittersweet laughter.

“Dragonspine. That’s the name of the mountain.” Turning to put the groceries away he paused when you spoke once more.

“No. That wasn’t it. It was something else. V-Vida something.” Albedo watched, incoherent thoughts and emotions clouding his mind as you retraced the circles you’d been making on the page beforehand. Suddenly your fingers stopped and you looked up. “Vindagnyr, yes that’s it! There’s a fortress up there, a, what did you tell me they were called, a domain. And that’s the name of it.” You closed your eyes once more. “Something happened there, something to do with you. I can’t remember it, if I was there or if you told me about it before, but something’s there. Something important.”

Albedo felt as if he must’ve been dreaming. The same sort of emptiness that had filled him at the beginning of this catastrophe was there, but this time there was something else, the bitter feeling of a hope that he couldn’t be sure of filling his lungs and his mouth. He turned back towards you, teetering forward as he tried to grasp the situation.

“Yes. That’s right. Vindagnyr. The name it had before it was essentially destroyed by Durin. I met the Traveler there, a week before I met you.” He sat down on the chair adjacent to where you were sitting, memories filling his mind. “It was also the first place we performed an experiment together.”

“I’d like to go there again then.” Your face was one of open triumph and excitement, and there was something in your eyes that Albedo thought he might never see again, a sort of recognition that he thought had been lost, “I know you haven’t been to your work once. I suppose it would make sense, considering what happened, but would you take me there?”

“Of course.” Albedo’s voice was sure and solid.

“Even though I might not remember more.”

“Even then.”

You reached your hand out to the alchemist, and after a second Albedo took it. He ran his thumb over the back of your hand slightly, and you made no move to withdraw, instead squeezing his palm slightly.

You had remembered something. It wasn’t everything of course, and there was no guarantee that there wouldn’t be heartbreak up ahead, wouldn’t be frustration and sorrow and moments when hope seemed very far away. But as long as moments like this existed, Albedo could hang on. The anger and despair that had burned inside him remained, but now something stronger resided there.

And that was hope.

Scaramouche

“Do you see them?” You whispered, raising your head slightly above the rock you were hiding under. Scowling Scaramouche made a cutting gesture with his hand.

“Yes I see them. And get back down!”

Although his tone of voice was harsher than usual you smiled a smile of understanding as you lowered yourself once more out of sight. Scarmouche took a deep breath in response, trying to control the coiling tension that sat in his stomach. Today’s mission was an unenviable one, made only worse by your presence, for Scaramouche knew these were no ordinary enemies, and though you could take care of yourself just fine there was a nagging in his head that refused to be silenced.

Your targets sat encamped up ahead, completely nondescript in appearance, although that was hardly surprising of deserters of the Fatui, especially ones of such high caliber as them.

Scaramouche’s expression twisted into a scowl of concentration once more as he thought about the moment when you two had received your orders to get rid of those who knew of the dealings of the army of the Tsaritsa, and who were certainly willing to dispose of said secrets for the right price. Although they were no doubt traitors of the worst sort and worth less than dirt, there was still something unpleasant about fighting people who had once been comrades. You’d mused it was because of the bonds of mutual struggle and culture, but Scaramouche suspected for himself it was more the annoyance of fighting people who were at least somewhat trained.

Scaramouche gave the signal and you crept once more out from behind your hiding spot. Manifesting your polearm Scaramouche could already see the well worn metal steaming. This battle was going to be bloody.

At first everything had gone well enough, being hidden on a ledge about the camp you’d managed to do a great deal of damage, made easier by their surprise and ill planned position. However things quickly began to turn sour. The ex-Fatui might not’ve had the equipment of their army days, but they retained the ruthlessness that had once made them so efficient and now made them so dangerous.

There was an odd smell running through the valley, the smell of electricity and something burning. Scaramouche stood in front of a man who had certainly once been a vanguard and a woman who appeared to have been a Cryo mage. Sweat coated their faces but Scarmouche felt cold with the thrill of battle. Electricity crackled to life in his hands and already bits of electricity were dancing on the charred and dinky armor of his enemies. What were they thinking sending a Harbinger against a pathetic group such as this? It was laughable, really.

“Such a pity that members of such an elite force are going to die like dogs.” He drawled. The woman in front of him gritted her teeth, summoning a trail of icicles which Scaramouche easily leapt over. “Is that truly your worth?” He laughed, before the calm that always came with killing washed over him. “Your best is hardly worth my worst.” Gathering electricity, Scaramouche prepared for the final, searing strike.

The man in front of him smiled a sickening sort of smile, the kind that one made only when they knew that it was the end, and then it all went wrong.

The sound of your voice was muffled by the energy approaching Scaramouche from behind, as the outline of a transparent sort of figure clipped his vision. Quickly whirling around Scaramouche was unprepared for the third ex-Fatui member, an agent who had apparently learned his skills well, bearing down on him. Raising his hands, the Harbinger was suddenly thrown aside by an unknown force. Fire made contact with lightning and the ground exploded.

Fighting to retain consciousness Scaramouche was aware of the sickly smell of burning flesh. Blinking away the confusion he glanced at the carnage around him. The agent lay haphazardly, face half obscured by a mass of flesh that must’ve once made him up but now seemed out of place. Behind him the other agents had hardly feared better, and the charred visage of mangled flesh replace what had once been arms, legs, necks. It was an unsettling view, and though Scaramouche couldn’t say it was the worst thing he’d ever seen it still left a vile taste in his mouth. How quickly a fragile little human could come undone, made into that which was unrecognizable.

Finally he fixed his gaze towards you, relieved to find that there was no apparent wounds, although that perspective shifted slightly when viewing your hands, which were covered with welts. Your fire must’ve mixed with his electricity, causing an overload of energy, and you two lying in the eye of the storm. Scaramouche looked at his own hands, and realized they were similarly reddened. Ignoring the pain he shook your shoulder. “Get up.” He let out when you finally opened your eyes.

However it was apparent very quickly that something was wrong. You eyes held no recognition in them, instead they seemed as blank and transparent as a mirror. Looking at him you furrowed your brow slightly.

“Where…” your gaze drifted towards the scraps of humanity around you and then there was nothing but screaming and a wetness on Scaramouche’s cheeks that felt suspiciously like tears.

“You need to get back to work.” Signora’s voice betrayed no sense of pity. Scaramouche was glad for it, he wouldn’t’ve been able to forgive her if there had been.

“I doubt those imbeciles need me for something as simple as the daily regime. If they do it’s their fault, not mine. I owe them nothing.”

“You owe them your work, it’s your duty as a Harbinger,” Signora’s eyes narrowed, “or have you forgotten that in your folly.”

“I’ve forgotten nothing!” Scaramouche snapped, eyes boring into those across from him. “I am well aware of what my obligations are and what they aren’t. As I said there is nothing of importance fir me right now, and I don’t wish to waste away my time with trivial matters.”

“What would our dear Tsarina think of such words,” Signora let out a dramatic sigh. Raising the glass she was drinking from to your lips she paused, “you best be careful. I cannot shelter you from your folly forever. Either you learn how to deal with this… unfortunate incident and your work, or I shall have that person thrown out into the snow.”

“You wouldn’t dare.” Scaramouche’s tone was like acid and he felt for the moment as if letting go of himself wasn’t such a crime, for now there was no one to chastise him about it anymore.

“I’m warning you. Don’t forget what happens to those who cannot fulfill their duty to the Tsarina,” Signora paused, a cruel smile gracing her face, “or have you forgotten who caused this in the first place.”

It was all Scaramouche could do not to set the tent ablaze.

“Get. Out.” He commanded. Signora sighed, shaking her head and downing her drink in one go before walking out and leaving Scaramouche with the feeling of falling apart.

_______

“Do you sing?”

Scaramouche lifted his head at the sound of your voice, surprised by the question. You hadn’t said much since the aftermath of the incident, and Scaramouche hadn’t forced you to. After all it was one of the things he’d first appreciated in regards to you, you’d never forced him to talk when he didn’t want to. Now he felt the need to afford you the same courtesy, knowing that intelligence still lay behind those eyes even if recognition had disappeared. Now he put down the document he was reading, smiling wryly and shaking his head.

“No. Why would you think that?”

“Because that’s what you’re called isn’t it? Your name, one of your names. The… the Balladeer?” You said it as if it was a question, and perhaps it was. Scaramouche couldn’t think however, couldn’t think over the rushing in his ears.

“Where did you hear that?”

“I don’t know. I just heard it. Or I remembered it. But that’s who you are, isn’t it?” You smiled, and for a moment Scaramouche could almost imagine life was as it was before. “Can you sing for me?”

“No.” This conversation had happened before.

“Fine,” you shook your head, “but one day I want you to sing for me, when I remember everything, then I want you to sing for me.”

“Fine.” Scaramouche managed to get out, afraid of the rising emotions he felt, afraid they might break through his voice.

“You’re missing work, aren’t you.” You continued on, gaze piercing through him. “I can tell, I can hear people whispering about it when I go out. I’m not supposed to be here, and you’re supposed to be working. If what you told me really is what happened, you should work.”

“Ridiculous,” Scaramouche scoffed, “I can manage my own affairs. Besides,” his voice grew softer, as if he didn’t want to reveal himself to you. You were too familiar, but still a stranger, and a part of him hid behind the walls he built up around everyone else, the walls only you could climb over. “Besides, who would look after you.”

“I can look after myself.” Your answer was as confident as it had always been. “I have to, since I trust what you’ve told me about myself, about this work, this world.”

“It was you not looking after yourself that lost you your memory!” He was shouting by now, he was shouting but he couldn’t stop because if he stopped shouting he’d be crying.

“Perhaps. But it’s not looking after me to end up like the people we fought. So go to your work. And maybe one day when you come back, I’ll remember.”

He couldn’t say no to you, eventually you won. It had been that way since the beginning, you tearing down his bluffing and his empty promises. Perhaps it was what he appreciated most about you.

Every moment Scaramouche was away from you felt like he was betraying a part of himself, a part he had hid for so long. But you were right, just like before, and just like before you’d won him over with your honesty, your refusal to back down, and your view of the Harbinger for what he truly was, someone who was deep down truly afraid. That part of you remained, somehow without memory and without certainty it remained.

And if that part of you remained, well maybe some day the rest would return.

Xiao

“Xiao look!” You let out a cry of delight as you threw yourself off the tall stone mountain, glider unfurling in a vibrant waves of color as you began circling in the air. Xiao scowled from the tree in which he was perched, unwilling to humor you in your folly.

“You’re going to be injured.” Although he hadn’t meant for you to hear that you still laughed at the comment, shaking your head as you once more carved shapes into the sky.

“It’s a lovely day for gliding! The air is so fresh and the breeze is just enough to keep you upright!”

“It’s too windy.” Xiao’s voice was flat. This was foolish, what you were doing was foolish. He could feel the currents, feel their laughter, their excitement. They were surely up to no good.

But you weren’t paying attention to that, instead you were gliding about as if you were born to fly. It was a beautiful sight, Xiao had to admit. The beauty of those immersed in what they loved. And what Xiao loved was you.

“Come on Xiao!” You called out. “Come fly with me!”

“No.”

“Oh c’mon, I know you can do it!” Screwing your face into a pout when the adeptus once more shook his head you shrugged. “Your loss.”

Xiao knew you were disappointed, but he couldn’t help it. It seemed somehow out of place for him to join you in whatever you were doing. Besides, he needed to keep track of the currents, just in case.

You dove down for a moment, and Xiao felt his stomach clench, knowing full well what you were doing, but unable to keep the worry out of his mind. And yet then you were flying up, up, up, up and though Xiao wanted to scold you, wanted to tell you to come down once more, he was rapt, in awe. You were too beautiful, and it stole his breath away.

A gust of wind came blowing through the stone monoliths and as your wings buckled and you plummeted towards the ground Xiao found that he was truly unable to breathe at all.

Perhaps it was a blessing that you were unconscious. Then you didn’t have to feel the way Xiao held onto your shoulders as if he’d never let you go, the way he gasped for the air he was supposed to be in charge of, the way his eyes were devoid of everything but fear. You hadn’t fallen so far, he told himself, you hadn’t fallen so far it was fatal. You were breathing, you were going to be fine. But he found himself unable to believe those words. If you had said them he would’ve, but there you were, a crumpled mess and he barely able to process the world around him.

Crashing onto the Inn balcony, not caring about the odd looks thrown his way, Xiao made his way upstairs. You were going to be fine. You were.

If only he could believe himself.

“They’re out of danger now.” Verr Goldet’s voice was calm, unnaturally so, and Xiao only softened a little at the knowledge, sure something had gone wrong. “But…” the innkeeper continued, confirming all of the fears Xiao had been secretly nursing.

“But.”

“But there seems to be a problem with their memory. They were very confused at first, unable to remember things such as Liyue, their duty as adventurer, this place, things like that. At first we thought it would clear, but now it seems that isn’t so. Their memory might be affected for quite a while.”

“I want to see them.” Xiao brushed past Goldet, determined to help you if this was to be your fate. But Goldet’s next words stopped him in his tracks.

“Xiao, they can’t remember you.”

At first there was the feeling of falling. And then, as Xiao vanished, there was nothing.

______

At first Xiao was determined to stay away completely. It hurt too much, hurt to think about what had happened. At first he’d managed to survive on anger, anger at the world, at you not listening to him, at himself for letting it happen. But quickly the anger faded and what replaced it was a loneliness so vast he couldn’t believe that he had managed to survive in such a way before he met you.

Still he didn’t want to go, didn’t want to see you as you were now, unaware of him and perhaps destined to remain so. How cruel fate was. It took everything he knew from him and just when he began to live again it took that to. It took away your memory, your livelihood, and for what? To punish him? It seemed unfair, so unfair.

So he’d stayed away, afraid that something would happened again to you if he were to show himself again. But the knowledge of such emotions as love is something that doesn’t fade, and Xiao found himself unable to continue on as before, finding the pain too great. He had to see you. At least to say goodbye, he had to see you. It would be unfair not to do so.

The moon was full, casting a silvery light on the landscape. Xiao drifted over towards the roof of the Inn, thankful that he was invisible, so as to not have to experience the moment your eyes reached him but you didn’t.

Your silhouette appeared quickly enough in the darkness. You seemed somewhat preoccupied, and yet there was a purpose to your step, made all the more evident by the Qingxin grasped firmly in your hand, a brethren of the other flowers which lay scattered on the railing.

“I know you’re there.” At first Xiao jumped, thinking perhaps you’d somehow managed to sense him. However he calmed down once you continued, it appeared you weren’t truly talking to him.

“I know you’re there. And I wish you’d come back,” You continued, gazing out on the landscape around you. “I don’t remember your name you see. They told me your name of course, but I wish they hadn’t, I wanted to remember it myself. It must be why you left, of course you didn’t want to see me like this. If what they said was true…” you shook your head, “I know it was true. I know that it had to have been true, that I cared for you, that you cared for me. I know because I miss you.” Xiao felt his heart pound in his chest, so loud he could barely hear you.

“I miss you so much. Isn’t that odd? I don’t know you anymore and yet I miss you. It’s as if something is missing. I mean, of course something is missing but it’s more than just the memories themselves. It’s the feeling. Like going outside without a coat on. I miss you, even if I can’t miss you because I can’t remember you I do, I miss you dearly.”

You paused, placing the flower on the railing next to the rest.

“I hope you see the flowers before they fade,” you called out softly to the dark, “and I hope one day I can look at you again. I remember you had such lovely eyes. I’d like to see them again to be sure.”

For a moment Xiao didn’t move, frozen by all he’d heard. But the minute you turned to leave he was already there, bound by the feelings he had for you, by the knowledge that continuing as he had been would kill him, would only hurt you.

“Do you remember me?” It was a silly question to ask, but he had nothing else to say. You turned towards him and smiled softly. It was true, your eyes didn’t recognize him. But there was something in your gaze nonetheless.

“Xiao.” You whispered, and the yaksha knew that he’d never be able to leave again.

#Don’t ask me why Albedo is mixing hydrogen with something that contains a halogen he and I are both just stupid like that #genshin impact #genshin impact fanfiction #requested #albedo #scaramouche #xiao #albedo x reader #scaramouche x reader #xiao x reader #scenarios #mine

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fanficimagery · 3 years

Text

Five Years After

Imagine going to the feed store for your sister, only you come home with more than just feed for the animals.

Words: 5.1K Author’s Note: The ending of this imagine was definitely inspired by a TikTok video :)

When the Blip happened, you were in complete disbelief. Chaos erupted all around as planes fell from the sky and automobiles crashed because their drivers had vanished into thin air. Everyone was a complete mess as they attempted to call loved ones, their calls going straight to voicemail or being answered by another family member that were having to deliver the bad news of a disappearance.

Your only living relative was your sister Laura and her children she had with her husband Clint, so when one of your co-workers and a handful of your customers vanished into thin air, your first call had been to your ex-Avenger of a brother-in-law. Unfortunately Clint was just as clueless as you and the phone had nearly slipped from your hand when he gave you the news that Laura and the kids had vanished. You had nowhere to go and were so scared because of the looting that had started, so Clint told you to pack your things and get to the farm as soon as possible.

You'd only been on the farm for a full day before Clint's friends came looking for him. Natasha, who you had met after your sister had married Clint, greeted you with a rather solemn hug. It was Steve Rogers, however, who attempted to introduce himself with as much joy as he possibly could in order to be polite.

You had shaken his hand, smiling sadly. "You don't need to force a smile for me, Rogers. The circumstances suck. I get it."

That had surprisingly pulled a short laugh from Natasha. "See, Steve? Told you she wouldn't be expecting the Man with a Plan."

Steve and Natasha had proceeded to stay for the duration of the day, telling Clint all about a fight that had taken place in Wakanda and who out of their friends had vanished. It was a devastating blow and you had no idea how everyone was going to cope. Then soon after the two Avengers had left, Clint went into overdrive. He was making phone calls left and right, packing bags and weapons, and you were at a complete loss.

You had decided to leave him be and it was only the following morning when you woke to an empty house did you find the letter on the kitchen counter. In the letter he had apologized for leaving you after everything that had happened, but went on to explain that there were criminals still out there who had survived the Blip when others who were sin-free didn't. He couldn't leave them be while people like his wife and children were no longer alive, so to work through his aggression he was going to hunt those criminals down. Fortunately enough, he left you in possession of the farm-house and made it so you were able to access his bank accounts. He told you not to look for him or get the others involved, so you waited a whole day before contacting Natasha and telling her all about Clint's derailment.

Clint left no trail, leaving you all alone. Or so you thought.

With Clint's vanishing act, Natasha and Steve made you their responsibility. They made sure you knew they were only a call or email away, but only after Nat drove down to give you some technological devices since the regular power grid was fluctuating. Since Earth lost half its population, everything seemed to be falling apart.

Then Tony Stark was brought back home and the world seemed a little bit brighter.

For years you drifted, working at a grocery store in town to keep yourself busy. The Blip took a toll on everyone, but it was nice to have to talk to someone even if the other person moved on autopilot. Clint sent an email every other month from a burner email, so it was a dead end every time Natasha looked into it after you had forwarded it to her. And about the only news-worthy thing that had happened after the Blip was the announcement of Tony and Pepper Stark's baby girl Morgan. You didn't know the Stark's personally, but it didn't stop you from sending their little girl a present every year on her birthday for the next five years on behalf of yourself and the Barton family.

One morning you're sitting at the breakfast table when you hear the telltale sounds of a jet overheard. You figure it's just Natasha and Steve for their monthly check-in so you think nothing of it.

The screen door creaks open and you call out, "In the kitchen!"

The steps of what sounds like more than one person falter, but then they pick back up until they near your location. "Got enough for another plate?" That oh so familiar timber makes you spew orange juice across the table. You're up and out of your seat, staring at your brother-in-law who's a lot more tatted up than you remember him being. "Hey, sis."

Tony Stark stands just a couple feet to Clint's right, but his presence isn't enough to deter you from marching up to your brother-in-law and punching his shoulder. "You asshole!" You punch him again for good measure as tears sting your eyes. "You left me. You left me all alone! How could you-"

He dodges your continuous blows, wrapping his arms around you to keep you from attacking him. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry, but I'm here now. It's all going to be okay." The fight instantly drains out of you as you sag into his embrace, sob after sob leaving you as you clutch to him tightly.

Clint tightens his grip a little more around you until your cries turn into sniffles. "What- what are you doing here?"

"Lang came up with a plan to bring our people back." You tense in Clint's arms and pull back to look him in the eyes. "Banner and Stark made the machines necessary to make the plan work. We're going to bring 'em home. We're going to bring 'em all home, Y/N."

"Please tell me you aren't joking," you mumble.

"Nope. No joke," Tony says. "It's not a total guarantee, but we're going to try our best." You let go of Clint and turn to look at Tony who's standing by the stove and picking at the leftover scrambled eggs. "Mmm. These are good. What'd you put in them?"

"Uhh, just butter and cheese."

"Morgan would absolutely love these. She's on this whole cheese kick right now."

That earns a chuckle, and after gathering yourself you look back at Clint. "So what's going to happen now?"

"The team's getting ready for a test run," Clint says. "I just wanted to let you know I was home and that we had a really important mission coming up."

"How soon?"

"Today if the test run goes good," Tony says. He pours himself half a glass of juice before downing it in one go. "And speaking of, we need to go."

You look at Clint, a little let down that he's leaving so soon, but he grins and pulls you back into a hug. "It's going to be okay." You nod against him and he lets his arms drop before he steps back. He looks around the kitchen and his grin widens. "You've kept up good with the house. I'm impressed."

"I should hope so," you mumble. "I had to flirt with the hardware store boy so he'd help me keep the house from falling apart."

Clint laughs. "You did good, Y/N. Laura will be proud."

"Yeah, yeah. Now go bring my sister, niece, and nephews back."

"You got it, boss."

- - - - - - - - - -

You're grateful for the day off because it leaves you with time to clean the house from top to bottom. You need some way to burn off all your anxiousness and making sure the house looks good for your sister is one hell of a way to do just that.

You're not sure how long you'd been cleaning when you decide to take a break, and you head outside for some fresh air. You walk off the porch and onto the grass, tilting your face skyward as you inhale and exhale softly, your eyes closing. One moment all you can hear is the wind ruffling tree limbs and grass, and the next it's a cacophony of chirping birds.

Your eyes fly open and you're shocked to see the swarms of birds flying around in the sky. Sure there have been birds around after the Blip, but you've never seen so many together since then. You're too busy staring up into the sky that you don't see what appears to be ash take formation behind you.

"Aunt Y/N?" The timid voice makes your heart stop before you whirl around, your eyes widening at the sight of Lila glancing around in shock. "What's going on? Where's dad?"

"Lila?" You breathe out in awe. You stumble towards her, eyes glistening with tears. "They did it. They actually did it." You pull her into a hug, cries stuttering in your chest. As you hug her, you glance towards the open field where you see Laura appear, followed by Nathaniel and then Cooper. "Laura!"

You grip Lila's hand tight as the both of you break out into a run towards the rest of your family, you and Laura colliding with twin oomphs. The two of you are crying as Laura tries to work out what the hell happened and where Clint is, but before you can explain anything she's pulling her phone out of her pocket and dialing Clint's number. As she worries about getting her husband on the phone, you quickly hug Cooper and pick up Nathaniel to hold on your hip as you squeeze him in relief.

"Clint?" Laura sobs when he finally answers. "Clint, what's going on? I-" She stops talking all of a sudden and she looks at you, eyes wide.

"What happened?" You ask.

"I- I don't know. One second he was talking and then-" She cuts off, glancing at her children and shaking her head. "He just cut out."

You know all is not fine and that something terrible must have happened for Laura to trail off the way she did. But instead of worrying her kids, you offer a grin. "I'm sure it's fine. As clumsy as he is, he probably just dropped his phone." She forces a smile for her kids' benefit. "So why don't we go ahead and wait for him inside. I'll make something to eat while you guys relax and I'll catch you up on the five years you missed."

"Five years!?" Laura nearly shouts.

You wince. "Yeah. You guys missed a lot."

- - - - - - - - - -

For the next couple of hours you tell Laura all about the Blip and how half of Earth's population just disappeared- Avengers included. You tell her how Clint had you move in, and how you helped take care of the house and what few animals they had on the farm still while working at the local grocery store. You tell her all about Steve and Natasha, and how Tony Stark is now married with a daughter of his own.

"Wow." Laura chuckles. All the kids have fallen asleep around the living room, leaving Laura the time to finally ask, "And where was Clint this entire time? I noticed he brought you onto the farm, but then everything became about Steve and Nat."

You suck in a breath sharply. "I was hoping you wouldn't notice that."

"Y/N.."

"He went rogue." Her eyes widen and you wince. "He left me here with access to your bank account, which I only used to pay bills and buy groceries by the way, and not even Natasha could find him. He only came back when she tracked him down and told him there was a chance they could reverse the Blip."

"Oh Clint.." She sighs, shaking her head in disappointment.

The sound of a quinjet hovering makes you and Laura perk up, but you keep quiet so as to not wake the children. You and Laura meet each other's gazes before you carefully get up and tiptoe out of the living room, and then you're rushing out the front door and down onto the lawn.

The door drops down and then Laura is sprinting across the field to reach her husband. You joyously laugh, jogging over to catch up. But as Laura and Clint hug one another, sobbing, you turn your sights to Steve who's standing sheepishly off to the side. There are two others with him, but since you've yet to meet them you make your way towards the familiar.

"Hey Rogers. Good to see you in one piece."

He tiredly chuckles. "Y/N." You punch his arm and he opens them up so you can hug him. "How are you holding up?"

"Better now that I got my sister back," you muse. As you pull away, you glance behind him into the quinjet. "Hey, where's Natasha?" Steve's smile falls and your heart plummets into your stomach. You can practically read the answer in his eyes. "No.." You shake your head.

His breathing stutters before he clears his throat. "We, uh, we lost Tony too."

Your expression completely crumples then, but Steve is quick to pull you back into a hug. He lets you cry into his chest before Clint steals you away, and then you're crying into your brother-in-law's shoulder. Then once all the tears taper off, Steve introduces you and Laura to Wanda and Bucky.

"I'll be in contact with you about what Pepper decides to do," Steve tells Clint. "If you do anything for Nat, let me know."

Clint sniffles. "I will."

You, Clint, and Laura wave off Steve, Wanda, and Bucky as they return inside the quinjet and lift off.

"Come on," Clint then sighs. "I need to see the kids and then figure out a way to tell them all about auntie Nat's sacrifice."

"And plan a memorial," Laura says.

You frown. "This was not the homecoming I was hoping for."

After a few days of planning, Clint decides on a cookout with all the Avengers and close friends of Nat's invited. It was a couple of days before Tony's own memorial, so you were surprised when Pepper Stark showed up with Morgan in tow. You were happy to finally meet the young girl who you'd been sending gifts to and you gladly ended up on babysitting duty.

You had met more of Clint's ex-coworkers, but your attention always ended up back on the children. Then when it came time to say a few words on Natasha's behalf, you somehow ended up between Steve and Bucky as the children ran back to their respective parents with Steve tucking you into his side when the tears started.

Then when the day of Tony's memorial came, there were more guests than you had anticipated. So as Pepper and Morgan walked a small flower raft with an arc reactor replica on it and set it out on the water, you stood back with Laura and her family and waited in silence. And as the crowd dispersed, you mostly kept to yourself until you saw Steve walk out of Pepper's home in the oddest white and red suit you'd ever seen.

Walking up behind Steve, you nod at Bucky and Sam who grin at your presence. When Steve turns around, you chuckle. "Why do I got a feeling you're about to do something very stupid?"

He grins and adjusts his grip on the suitcase hanging by his side. "Someone's gotta return the stones to their original timeline."

"Mhm. Well be careful. Don't start any unnecessary fights."

"I'll try my best."

As he walks up onto the platform, you step back and nudge your arm against Bucky's. He smiles down on you and you stand by his side as you listen to Bruce who walks Steve through about what's going to happen. Bruce checks all his monitors, giving Steve the go-ahead when everything is fine. Steve nods, a mask of sorts opens up and wraps around his face, and he presses a button that had been in his hand. Bruce counts down the seconds before he flips a switch which is meant to bring Steve back, but nothing happens.

Bruce looks around his monitors and starts pressing some more buttons. "Where is he?" Sam asks.

"I don't know. He blew right by his time stamp. He should be here," Bruce says as he flips a few more switches.

Bucky sighs and you quickly glance at him, and he looks more resigned than anything as he turns to walk off.

Your attention goes to Bruce as your heart rate picks up. "Get him back."

"I'm trying."

"Get him the hell back!" Sam urges.

You and Sam are low-key panicking, but it's Bucky's calm voice that stops the both of you. "Y/N. Sam."

The two of you whirl around, gazes sliding towards where Bucky is staring off to. In the distance, on a stone bench by the water, there appears to be a man sitting there that wasn't there before. You and Sam stumble forward, and you squint your eyes, only to glance back at Bucky with wide eyes.

"Is that.."

"Go."

You share another look with Sam and he gestures for you to follow him. The two of you walk towards the man together and Sam stops just behind him as you walk around in front. When you get a good look at your friend who is way older than what he appeared to be a mere twenty seconds ago, your heart cracks just a little.

You try to force a smile, but it wobbles as an elderly Steve chuckles at you. "I'm really trying not to be so mad at you right now." Your voice cracks and he pats the spot next to him as you sniffle. You immediately sit next to him and take his left hand within your own two, a gleaming wedding band not going unnoticed. Your fingers trace it. "Was it at least a happy life?"

Steve pats your hand. "It was. It was the beautiful life I always dreamt of."

You take a moment for yourself, inhaling and exhaling deeply. "You know you were my complete impulse control, right? Who's going to stop me from trying to get into your best friend's pants now?"

There's a snort from behind you, but you don't bother giving Sam your attention. "Go easy on him," Steve tells you. "I'm not sure he even remembers how to flirt."

You grin as you lean your head on his shoulder. "I'm really going to miss you," you say after a beat. Another moment passes before you drop Steve's hand and sigh before you stand. "Well, um, I should get back my sister and Clint now." You meet his gaze and flash him a small smile. "It's going to suck not seeing you every month, but I'm really glad you found your happiness."

"Thank you, Y/N."

Your bottom lip wobbles again. "Goodbye, Steve."

As you walk away, you hold your head up high and nod to Sam when he looks at you to make sure you're okay. You continue walking, nodding at Bucky as you pass him up as well when you see Laura wave you over. "For the record, I still remember how to flirt." You stumble and and then hear Bucky chuckling quietly behind you.

"Goddamn super soldiers and your dog ears."

As the days turn into weeks, Clint and Laura offer you a permanent place on the farm now that everything seems to be going back to normal. He's promised to build you a small house on the property for all that you've done in the past five years, so in the meantime you've taken to bunking with Lila while Wanda took over the guest bedroom. Clint had also taken to bringing Bucky to the farm when he noticed the super soldier not coping as well as he was letting on, so you found yourself often sitting by the back pond with him as the two of you traded stories about Steve and yourselves.

Though you had originally joked about getting into Bucky's pants, you found yourself seeking friendship from him more than anything else and vice versa. So when you weren't working at the grocery store, you were watching the kids for Laura and Clint or hanging out with Bucky and Wanda. It was no surprise to anyone that the three of you latched on to one another after losing those that you did.

"Hey Y/N," Laura calls out. "Will you do me favor?"

You glance up as she walks out the front door, you and Wanda ceasing your conversation. You grin. "What do you need?"

"Lucky needs some dog food and we need a few bales of hay for the goats."

"Oh. Okay." You look towards Wanda. "Wanna go for the ride?"

She shrugs. "Sure."

"Thank you! You can just put it on the Barton tab at the store," Laura says. "Clint pays it monthly and I've already called ahead to let them know someone was going in to pick up some stuff we needed."

"Got it." Standing up, you pat down your pockets to make sure you have your keys, phone, and some cash. Realizing you have everything, you grin at your sister before walking down the porch steps. As you near your truck, you whistle at Bucky who was throwing knives at a target on the side of the barn. "Hey Buckaroo! We're heading into town. You wanna come?"

He throws the last knife in his hand before he turns to look at you. "Don't call me Buckaroo!" He shouts back as he makes his way towards you.

"Then stop lookin' so darn cute!"

Wanda snorts and you laugh as Bucky shakes his head at you. "One of these days he's going to flirt back and then what are you going to do?"

"Bend myself over the table and let him hit it from behind," you mumble. She snorts harder this time and your eyes widen when you see Bucky start to smirk.

As he nears the two of you, he says, "What did you say?"

"Nothing," you blurt. "Nothing at all. Wanda's just easily amused, is all."

His gaze slides to Wanda, but she shakes her head and doesn't tell him a word. You mentally sigh and praise her for being a good friend, and then you turn to walk towards your truck. Wanda readily heads for the back driver's side door while Bucky walks around to the passenger seat so he's seated next to you.

Once you're seated behind the wheel and the engine is turned on, you take a moment to find a decent song on the radio before driving. It's not too long of a drive and you find yourself pulling up to the local feed store not even three songs later.

Parking and cutting the engine right in front of the store, you turn towards Bucky. You know he's not a huge fan of being out in public, but you rather not have to flirt inside the store to get a helping hand. "Hey Buck, can you do me a favor and load up four of those large rectangular bales of hay and one bag of that dog food right next to it?" You see him tense. "I rather not have to flirt with the boy inside just so he'll help out."

He relaxes then and gives you a nod. "Yeah. Sure."

"Thanks. Just keep watch through the window. Wait 'til I give the signal for you to start loading up." He gives you another nod and you turn around to face Wanda. "Wanna head inside with me?"

Wanda grins and readily opens her door, you and Bucky following right after. But as you and Wanda head inside, Bucky remains by the tailgate of your truck and keeps watch through the large front window as you had said. Inside, Mr. Reeves is waiting by the cash register and keeping an eye on Bucky outside.

"Don't worry, Mr. Reeves. He's with me." Mr. Reeves glances at you, smiling in relief. "I need four large bales of hay and a fifty pound bag of dog food."

Mr. Reeves starts punching buttons on his register. "Alright, sweetheart. Is that going to be all for you?"

"Sure is. Um, Laura asked if you can put it on the tab? Clint will be by at the end of the week."

"Sure thing." You turn towards the window and give Bucky a thumbs up. He turns to open the tailgate and then move towards the bales of hay to start loading up. Mr. Reeves chuckles. "That's a strong fella you got there."

His words make you blush and Wanda giggle, but you can't even reprimand your friend because she is further away than you expected. She's leaning over what appears to be a warming box, hand inside as she smiles down at something you can't see. "Whatcha got there, Red?"

Her smile widens as you hear small chirps. "Ducklings."

You walk over to her, peering inside and your heart absolutely melts. Inside are the cutest ducklings you've ever seen and you know you're done for when you set your hand down inside and one particular little duckling runs onto your palm.

Mr. Reeves walks over, chuckling. "They were hatched a few days ago. All have been looking mighty strong and are ready to go to good homes."

"How much?"

"Y/N," Wanda laughs. "What are you doing?"

"I'm taking this little sucker with me." You pick up your hand, duckling still happily nestled in your palm as you cradle him to your chest and look at Mr. Reeves. "Any chance you have those small plastic kiddie pools?"

"As a matter of fact I do," he muses.

Wanda is giggling the entire time Mr. Reeves gets exactly what you need, you nuzzling the yellow fuzzball to your face. You pay with your own money and sadly hand over the duckling when Mr. Reeves has to box her up. You then carefully take the box from him as Wanda takes the kiddie pool, and you walk behind her as you make your way to the truck.

You have absolutely no regrets about buying the duckling, but you still hide the box as you walk around the truck and open the driver's door. Wanda shoves the kiddie pool into the back with her and Bucky turns so his gaze darts between the both of you- Wanda looking far too amused and you looking a little sheepish as you continue to stand outside the truck.

"What did you do?" He sighs.

"Well we went in to just buy the food," Wanda says, "but-"

"I bought a duck." You blurt. You finally put the box in front of you, on the seat, and you open the lid. The duckling chirps and you beam down at her, picking her up and nuzzling her once more. "I'm gonna name her Flauta." Bucky snorts and Wanda laughs uncontrollably then. "No one tell Laura."

"Gonna be hard to hide her, doll."

Bucky reaches over to take the duckling from you and the sight of him cradling it, holding it up to his face and smiling makes you melt once more. Wanda is staring knowingly at you, but you don't even have the urge to flip her off because you know you're fucked. Instead, you take your phone out of your back pocket and snap a picture.

"That's my new wallpaper."

Bucky doesn't bother admonishing you for taking the picture, so after setting it as your wallpaper you put your phone away and climb into your truck. He holds onto the duckling as you make the drive back to the farm, Wanda giggling every now and then when you glance at Bucky and sigh longingly.

When you make it back to the farm, Clint and Laura are on the porch as the kids play out in the yard. They both stand as you park, their expressions turning suspicious as Wanda hops out of the back with the kiddie pool in tow. You grin as you hurriedly hop out as well, leaving Bucky to carry the incriminating evidence.

You can tell he expected as much as he watches you jog around to his side of the truck, already pointing at him through the opened window. "Bucky bought a duck!"

He shakes his head at you and you blow him a kiss, Clint and Laura then joining you by the truck. "Oh really?" Your brother-in-law muses.

"Yep."

"Mhm." Clint looks to Bucky as Laura bites back a grin. "Buck, what's the duck's name?"

Without missing a beat, he says, "Flauta."

Laura finally laughs. "Nice try, Y/N." As Bucky and Wanda guess how Laura knew, she says, "When we were younger, Y/N did the same thing but with a turtle. She named him Taquito."

"And Taquito lived a long and happy life until we went off to college," you say. "Flauta will live just long, if not longer, here on the farm."

Clint chuckles and then takes the duckling from Bucky. He looks to Wanda and gestures for her to follow him. "Lets go get this little lady all set up. The kids are gonna have a blast."

Laura follows after them, but not before winking at you, and you shake your head as you're left alone with Bucky. He finally climbs out of the truck, shutting the door and then leaning against it. You nervously laugh as he smirks. "You threw me under the bus."

"I couldn't take the chance that they'd make me return Flauta." You pout. "I couldn't send her back, Buckaroo. I'd already named her."

He pushes off the truck, turning you around and laying his arm around your shoulders. For a moment you forget how to breathe. "You're just as bad as Steve."

"Oh whatever." You roll your eyes, grinning as your arm wraps around the back of his waist and start walking towards where Clint went. "Steve got you shot at. I momentarily put you in momma bear's crosshairs." He quietly chuckles. "And besides, I didn't hear you deny it. Admit it, Barnes, I'm growing on you."

"Like a fungus."

You pinch his side. "Oh fuck off." He fully laughs then. "Just you wait, Buckaroo. The day we decide to put sex on the list of things we should definitely be doing, I'm gonna withhold just because you're being an ass."

"You sure about that?" The teasing lilt to his voice suddenly makes you feel at unease. "You sure you won't immediately bend over the table and let me hit it from behind?"

Your face flames, but you can't help but laugh at your earlier words. When you manage to calm down, you can't help but say, "I hate you," as you finish making your way towards your family.

"Nice try, doll, but I'm calling bullshit."

#marvel gen fic x reader #bucky barnes x reader #marvel imagine #clint barton #laura barton #steve rogers #bucky barnes #wanda maximoff #bucky x reader #bucky barnes imagine #marvel #avengers imagine

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angelamajiki · 3 years

Note

Hoi, can you please write a yandere Tamaki x reader (smut) fic? I'm not sure how descriptive you want me to get, but I do have a childhood friends sort of idea. Like they're friends as kids and after he moved he's been obsessed with seeing the reader again.

PARINGS: Tamaki Amajiki x Quirkless! Gender Neutral! Reader

CW: yandere, noncon, kidnapping, incel tamaki, dom tamaki, degradation, gender neutral reader, choking, tentacles, cutting, bone breaking, facefucking, inappropriate use of quirks, painplay, tamaki is a Mean Boy

AN: here she is, mean dom tamaki!! this has been requested for a while, so enjoy :) <3

Tamaki never stopped thinking about you since he was forced to leave you all those years ago in middle school. He didn't want to, but quirkless students such as yourself almost never entered U.A., even in general studies. Having known you since he was a small child, the boy was heartbroken when the two of you separated ways, vowing to become an incredible hero for you.

All his training was motivated by you, becoming strong for you, becoming enough for you. Everything he did was for you. Not that you knew that, he hardly spoke to you after his entrance exam. Tamaki wanted to make sure he was guaranteed to be worthy of your love and affection, so he did what he does best and hid in the shadows

But that was just the thing, Tamaki never forgot about you, not even for a second. The more he grew into his feelings, the harder it was for him to even look at your contact name without sporting a hard-on. Your Instagram hardly did you justice, but God, weren't you blossoming into a beautiful young woman.

Time flew by to his graduation from the hero course. Tamaki finally mustered up the courage to invite you, hoping that he could finally confess and share the celebration of his debut as a pro with the one he does it all for.

You were ecstatic to see your two friends again and more importantly, you were proud to introduce your boyfriend to your childhood friends. Tamaki couldn't say that he shared the same joy you did.

You just had to go and ruin his day, didn't you? Everything he worked for, everything he did for you was for naught, seeing you hold that bastard’s hand so gently. It should be his hand in yours, not that oaf’s. Was he even a hero? He wasn't good enough for you, not like Tamaki was.

Tamaki worked to be yours, you just needed to see that

———— •

“Thanks for inviting me over, Tamaki. I haven't seen you in so long, I missed you!”

Tamaki locked the door to his apartment and shuffled in after you. It was now or never.

“Yeah, there's actually something I've been wanting to talk to you about.”

He sat on the couch and patted for you to sit next to him. Once down, he put a hand on your thigh and looked in your eyes with a flushed expression. How cute, his ears still went red when he was embarrassed.

“I’m in love with you.”

You were at a loss for words, feeling the tension become heavy and awkward.

“I don’t know what to say. You know I’m dating-”

“Say...Say you’ll be mine! I did everything for you, I worked so hard to be worthy of you. Don't you see that?”

Tamaki grasped your hand in his, squeezing it right as he came in close to your personal space. He had a hopeful smile on his face, but the look in his eyes scared you.

“Listen, we haven't talked in years Tamaki. I got over my crush on you after you stopped talking to me, I'm sorry.”

His eyes searched yours as tears welled up in them as his grip tightened.

“I-It’s not fair! He doesn't deserve you, I do. I-I wanted to become a hero for you. To protect you.”

Letting out a sigh, you untangled yourself from his grip and stood up, pushing his hands away when they reached out for you again. “I think I should leave, Tama.”

“You’re a whore.”

His confidence startled you.

“Excuse me?”

His anger was evident now as he gripped you by your biceps, wildly shaking you as tears fell from his eyes

“How could you do this to me!” He spat, shoving you back down to the couch. “You're mine; you belong to me. He's just a worthless quirkless boy with no future, just like you!”

Tentacles sprouted from his fingers, wrapping you up tightly and suctioning off your clothes until you were naked before him. One prodded its way into your mouth to gag you as he spread your legs.

He was sobbing on his knees in front of you, pressing his face into your thigh before biting into your skin roughly enough to draw blood.

“I could have given you everything, bunny. A future, my love, a family, but you betrayed me. You're nothing more than a cocksleeve for me now, a hole for me to use and abuse, you two-timing bitch.”

He pulled his cock out and began to stroke himself, continuing to leave bloody bite marks all over your thighs, letting his anger get the best of him.

“I could have been so good to you.” He sobbed, pressing kisses to the marks and lapping at your blood. “Why did you do this to me? You fucking whore!”

His sobs only got louder as he continued to leave marks on your body, leaving a bloody trail in its wake while his tentacles constricted you completely. One of them wrapped itself around your throat and squeezed while he got up from the floor.

“I’ll make sure you never forget who exactly it is that owns you.”

Using his free hand, he manifested a swordfish’s head and began to carve his name into your stomach. He took his time, watching you writhe and scream in his grip while dragging out the pain.

“Hurts, doesn't it? This is nothing compared to what you've done to my heart.”

Once he finished his work, he retracted the fish and continued to stroke himself off over you. The tentacles continued to squeeze you to the point where you could feel the blood being cut off your limbs.

“I should break your legs so you can’t run away from me. W-Would you like that bunny?” He sighed happily at the thought, biting his lip as he watched you struggle.

Whining and whimpering, his hand worked even faster when he heard your muffled screams of pain from his tentacles dislocating your knees and ankles. His hips jerked in his hand when he saw you shake from the pain, finally going lack in his clutch.

“Y-You sound so cute when you’re in pain, sweetheart. Can you scream some more for me?”

He worked another tentacle into your mouth and watched as they face fucked you, leaving your lips swollen and split from the sheer stretch of the tentacles.

What happened to your sweet, shy Tamaki? The one you fell in love with all those years ago? And yet, here he was, slicing you open and breaking your bones for having a boyfriend.

“Oh fuck, I-I’m close, bunny!” Tamaki whimpered, fisting his cock fast as he positioned his hips over the cut of his name. “I love you! Oh my god, I love you so much!”

He cried, spilling his seed all over the open wound. The poor boy came buckets and saw stars from the most intense orgasm of his life. He panted, retracting his tentacles as he came down from his high.

The gravity of the situation hit him hard once he saw your mangled, broken body in front of him. He whimpered out apologies as he kissed you, doing his best to stop the bleeding from the shallow wounds he gave you.

“‘M sorry, bunny. I went overboard, I-I didn’t mean to!” He whined. “Don’t worry; I’m going to take care of you. D-Don’t move!”

Collecting himself, he ran out of the room to get his first aid kit to dress the wounds. He intended to let everything scar, but he knew he had to treat it quickly.

You, on the other hand, laid still on the couch, hiccuping and sobbing at the loss of your first love.

#yandere tamaki amajiki x reader #yandere tamaki amajiki #tamaki amajiki x reader #tamaki amajiki #yandere my hero academia #my hero academia #yandere boku no hero academia #boku no hero academia #yandere mha #mha #yandere bnha #bnha #yandere x reader #yandere

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five-rivers · 3 years

Text

Danger First

Chapter 6

@pocketramblr another :)

Shouta trudged back to the staff break room. His counseling session with Midoriya had lasted a little over an hour, so while there were still teachers in the building, many of them had left. With the exception of semi-retired heroes like Recovery Girl, everyone working here had two full time jobs. Hizashi, despite his carefree air, had even more than that in the form of his radio show. Hizashi had probably left with the students.

But Hizashi wasn't either of the ones he wanted to talk to. Not today.

He opened the door. Three, no, four teachers were there, but Snipe didn't count, seeing as he was completely passed out on one of the couches with his gas mask half off. He must have had an early shift patrol today, poor sucker.

Nemuri was there, too, with most of her hero outfit on. She was applying her hero-grade makeup (water proof, resistant to three common contact poisons, and guaranteed not to react badly with mace).

More importantly, Kan and Yagi were both there, poring over papers on the same desk, no less. Shouta walked up to the table and looked down at sheets and sheets full of incomprehensible numbers.

"What are you doing?" he asked.

"We-"

'Don't tell him!" said Kan, urgently. "This is going to be my class's leg up on Aizawa this time around."

"Haha! Good one!" Yagi slapped Kan's back, and apparently even in his skeletal form he could pack a punch, because Kan had the air knocked out of him. Before he could recover, Yagi continued, "I'm making personalized nutrition plans for his class!"

"What?"

"One of my undergraduate degrees was in nutritional and health sciences, after all!"

Wow, there was a lot to unpack there, but Shouta was more than happy to leave it in its box. He had other fish to fry and topics to interrogate. Small talk requirement fulfilled, he moved on.

"How well do you know Midoriya?"

Yagi blinked and put down his pencil. "Moderately so? We met about this time last year and have been meeting regularly since then."

So, so much to unpack.

"Why?"

"Ah, he... impressed me, I suppose? He was involved in the bodysnatcher incident last year."

That was an understatement.

"He had a lot of heroic spirit!" continued Yagi. "But... not so much in the, ah, body category. I thought it would be a shame, a waste, really, if he wasn't able to pursue his dream, and a hero school prep course wasn't really in the cards for him, considering his quirk status and the timing... And I did have this degree..." He waved his hands vaguely at the table. "I just gave him a little help."

"What brought all this on, anyway?" asked Nemuri. "Midoriya is the little green haired kid, right? One of Chibiida's new friends?"

"If you keep calling him that, I won't be held responsible for when he snaps and attempts murder. But, yes, that's Midoriya."

"So...?"

"He told me I was the best teacher he'd ever had."

Nemuri started laughing.

"Oh," said Yagi. "I'm glad the two of you are getting along so well."

"I think he's pulling your leg, Shouta," said Nemuri, coming over to pat him on his shoulder. "Man, I didn't think a friend of Chibiida's would have it in him. Such youth!"

"I cannot even begin to tell you how much he wasn't."

Nemuri's laughter died off.

"Judging from some comments he made today," said Shouta, "not to mention the discrepancies between his record and his observed behavior in the classroom, I'd say he's been the target of severe quirkism in the past, particularly from his teachers. Did he ever mention anything like that to you?"

Yagi's face darkened and the mood in the room grew much more somber. "Not in so many words, no. However... some of his comments about his teachers disturbed me enough to bring it to the attention of the Musutafu Educational Services District, but as an unrelated stranger without concrete proof..."

("You can use the acronym, you know," muttered Vlad.)

"You're telling me they ignored the number one hero."

Yagi made a face. "I didn't go to them as All Might. Can you imagine the media frenzy if I did that? I didn't want to paint that kind of target on young Midoriya's back."

That was fair, actually. If largely-anonymous Shouta had enemies, All Might had ten times as many. Not to mention supposed fans.

"Other avenues of inquiry were also fruitless," said All Might, countenance darkening. "I asked some of my police colleagues, but they don't have full discretion over the direction of their investigations, and, again, if I were to use my weight to move them... It would get out, and people would wonder why I was so concerned with an apparently normal middle school."

"Did you try talking to Nezu about it?"

"No? Why?"

Shouta reminded himself that although Yagi was an alumnus, he was also very new as a teacher, and was as of yet unfamiliar with Nezu's more interesting traits.

"I'm going to," said Shouta, "and you're going to come with me." He turned to Kan. "Have you heard anything from Bakugo about quirk discrimination?"

"All I've heard from him are explosions, threats, and some kind of complex I don't have nearly enough psychiatric training to- They're from the same school," he realized.

"Yeah."

Kan pinched his brow. "So, the sweet shy kid you keep gushing about-" Both Shouta and Yagi attempted to reassure Kan they weren't gushing, "-and the demon brat are from the same school."

"That is what their records say," agreed Shouta. "Did you know, Yagi?"

"Oh, that they knew each other? Yes. Actually, I was rather under the impression they were childhood friends, as Midoriya ran out to help him during the bodysnatcher incident."

Shouta grunted. It was possible. He hadn't seen the two of them interact, at any rate.

"I'm going to Nezu with you," said Kan, standing up. "No matter what else this hell school did, they deserve to suffer for inflicting Bakugo Katsuki on me with those recommendations full of lies."

"Why don't you just expell him if he's that bad?"

"Because he's talented, hardworking, and hasn't actually broken any rules except for the swearing. He's just a pain I wasn't prepared to deal with and will probably contribute more to my hearing loss than Yamada by the end of the year."

"Wait, wait," said Yagi. "What exactly are you expecting Nezu to do in this situation?"

"Well," said Nemuri, who still hadn't left yet, "let's just say there's a reason hid name is 'god' in the staff group chat."

Terrible did not even begin to describe how Izuku felt when he woke up. His skin was static. His mouth was dry in a way that hurt. It felt like a siren was going off in his brain, and also like it was too quiet. He wanted to both run all the way to the school and hide in his closet.

This, of course, left him paralyzed in bed.

He hadn't felt remotely like this since the first time someone had left spider lilies on his desk at school. What was wrong with him?

No, that was the wrong question. All signs pointed to him having Danger Sense. He was in danger. And also immobile in bed.

With a great deal of effort, he turned to his bedside table and grabbed his phone. The clock in the corner read 4:42. Far too early to call anyone. And yet...

With shaky fingers, he navigated to Mr. Yagi's contact information and pressed dial. To Izuku's surprise, it only rang once.

"Young Midoriya? Is something wrong?"

The sound of his voice loosened the terrible knot under Izuku's breastbone. "I- May-maybe? I don't- I don't know, I think so."

There were sounds of movement on the other side of the line. "What happened?"

"I just- just woke up, and I- I think it's Danger Sense. It- Something bad is going to happen."

"I'm on my way. Is your mother with you?"

"N-no. She's at a- at a tech conference in Tokyo. She won't be back until- until tomorrow. Mr. Yagi, I don't- I don't think it's something here. I think it's later... at the school."

There was a pause. "My boy, are you quite sure?"

Izuku's laugh was just a little hysterical. "I mean, I'm- I'm pretty new to this, but..." he'd like to think his flight or fight reflex would have a more constructive response to am immediate threat. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I shouldn't have woken you up, I should have waited-"

"Nonsense! Forewarned is forearmed, and time is one of the most valuable resources a hero can have! I'm still picking you up, I'll just-" Mr. Yagi coughed, "-take the car instead."

"The car? You mean Hercules!?" The excitement was enough to free Izuku from his paralysis and propel him into a sitting position.

"Well, yes, but, my boy, how did you know? I don't think I've ever mentioned the name in my interviews..."

"But you did! In one of your American interviews. It was for a local station and you and Mr. Shield were on together."

"But those were in English."

"I know! When I found out about them, it really motivated me to work on my English! I think I could probably pass the Level Two fluency test..."

"Young Midoriya, have I ever told you how glad I am that you aren't a villain?"

"Hikage, did Danger Sense ever make you feel this bad?" asked Nana as Yoichi fussed in the background.

"Super Anxiety made me feel this bad all the time. Sometimes, it made me feel worse. I got used to it."

Nana let out a sigh of relief. It sucked to Ninth right now, but if it was normal for the quirk...

"That's good, then," said En. "Not for Ninth, obviously, but if that's just how the quirk works, he'll be able to figure it out. What did it usually mean, when you felt like this?"

"Generally, that someone was planning on killing me in the next few hours."

Dead(er than usual) silence.

"Ah," said En.

"You know," said Nana, "sometimes the kinds of lives we led slips my mind, but then the universe is always real happy to turn around and slap it back into me."

Yoichi started screeching.

"Do you feel any worse now that we're here?" asked Mr. Yagi after shutting Hercules down.

"Not really," said Izuku. He slumped down in his seat and looked away. "I'm sorry, I dragged you out of bed and this is probably just a stupid pointless meaningless panic attack..." He felt tears begin to prick at the edges of his eyes. He was so stupid. And selfish. All Might could be out helping people right now. Or taking care of himself (which, according to Recovery Girl's comments during their training sessions, he didn't do nearly enough of).

"Hey, hey, there's no need to cry, it's alright."

"Because you're here?" asked Izuku with a sniffle.

"Well, yes, but also, even if it was 'just' a panic attack, I'd still want to be here for you." He reached across the central console to pat Izuku on the shoulder. Then his face twisted into something rather sheepish. "But on the subject of panic attacks, something did occur to me on the way here."

Izuku looked back down at his knees. "What is it?"

"This is the anniversary of the day we met."

Izuku... had known that, actually. Waking up as he had had driven it from his mind, but the date was marked on his calendar. He'd even gotten All Might a gift, although he hadn't yet talked himself into being brave enough to give it to him, and with what happened today, it would most likely languish in his desk drawer for an indefinite period of time as the idea of giving it became progressively more awkward.

"My boy? I can't quite make out what you're saying. You're mumbling."

Izuku clapped his hands over his mouth. "Sorry."

"It's quite alright. I'm just an old man with hearing problems."

"You're not old! It's... I just- I just don't see how- how that's connected to this." He gestured at himself in all his vaguely-trembling glory.

"Young Midoriya... you almost died three separate times that day. That's traumatic. And sometimes anniversaries are... reminders."

"I only almost died once?"

"The first time with the sludge villain, grabbing on to my leg- and I don't think I ever apologized for telling you to let go, I was just so surprised- and then the sludge villain again."

"But I only almost died the first time..." He trailed off as Mr. Yagi gave him a look. He'd thought his mother was the only one who could give looks like that... "Do you really think this is connected to that?"

"I don't know," said Mr. Yagi. "Do you feel like it might be?"

"I don't know," said Izuku. He bent over and knotted his fingers in his hair.

"Do you think it might help to stay home today?"

"No!" yelped Izuku. "No," he repeated, trying to calm his racing heart.

"Alright, alright. Never fear, my boy." Mr. Yagi gave him another steadying shoulder pat. "In that case, let's go into this with the assumption that this is danger sense, and it is attempting to warn you of a real threat."

"Okay," said Izuku. He rubbed at his eyes. "What do we do first?"

Mr. Yagi tensed and looked up at the top floors of UA. "Well..."

"Hm!" said Nezu. "That is something of a conundrum! The extent of your quirk is unclear, and it is not properly registered, so we cannot go through the official routes we normally would for a warning given through a precognitive or clairvoyant quirk, even given that we are aware of One for All and the probable nature of Danger Sense."

Nezu knowing about One for All had been a bit of a surprise. In retrospect, maybe it shouldn't have been. All Might would have had to tell Nezu something so that Izuku was allowed on campus before he was really a student, and seeing as how All Might was originally teaching here to find a successor... well, it made sense. Izuku just wished he'd been told.

How many other people knew was a question for later, however.

"Your inexperience with the quirk and other circumstances further complicates the matter."

"Sorry," said Izuku.

"Whatever for? It isn't your fault." Nezu did not wait for an answer. "Then there is yesterday's incident to consider... You say you felt something with the reporters?"

"Y-yes, sir."

"Hm. Yes. Toshinori, I so believe you have a contact who could clear this up much more efficiently."

"I know," said Mr. Yagi. "He isn't picking up his phone."

"You don't think-?" started Izuku.

"No, no, he just hasn't been speaking to me lately."

"Oh? I was under the impression you had been communicating with him regularly since returning to Musutafu."

"He thought I would change my mind about something I didn't change my mind about, apparently. It doesn't matter. What else can we do?"

"A good number of things, luckily. Midoriya, I am going to make a series of phone calls. I would like you to tell me if the sensation you are experiencing changes at all while I make them."

"Yes, sir."

Nezu began methodically going through Izuku's list of teachers, warning them that something 'like yesterday' might happened and going over lesson plans and safety procedures. Nothing really changed. Until Nezu called Thirteen.

(Oh, gosh, they were going to go to the Unforeseen Simulation Joint on a field trip today? That was so cool!)

But after Nezu talked to Thirteen about checking safety systems, a little bit of the tension he'd been holding onto leaked away.

"Interesting," said Nezu. "Perhaps we should reschedule rescue training until-"

Izuku dove for Nezu's garbage bin.

"-or perhaps not," mused Nezu as Izuku expelled the meager contents of his stomach.

It was a good thing he hadn't eaten breakfast.

"Hikage," said Banjo. "I'm sorry for calling you a dead-eyed emotionally stunted bastard with a warped sense of humor if this is what you had to put up with all the time."

"You called me a dead-eyed emotionally stunted bastard?"

"Not to your face, but yes."

"Well. It isn't as if those things aren't all true..."

"I'm okay," said Izuku. "That just... felt bad."

"No cancelations in that case," said Nezu as Mr. Yagi hovered.

"Y-yeah. Oh gosh, now I know how Uraraka feels..."

"Perhaps you should stay home-"

"No! I can't! That would be..."

Nezu held up his hands- paws? "It was merely a suggestion. Can I offer you some tea?"

"Yes, please," said Izuku, voice catching uncomfortably on his raw throat.

"I do have a few more calls to make. Do you feel up to staying, or would you prefer to head down to Recovery Girl? Or perhaps even the cafeteria? I imagine you haven't eaten breakfast."

"I'd like to stay."

"Very well." Nezu picked up his phone again. Izuku could just make out the click on the other end when it was picked up. "Am I a mouse? A dog? A bear? One thing's for sure! I'm the principal!" There was laughter on the other end of the line. "No, not at all! I am in fact calling for you, Tensei. Or should I say, Ingenium? I'm aware this is last minute, and you were planning on taking the day off- How do I know? It was quite simple, really- but between the break-in yesterday and a tip I received this morning regarding a threat to the school, I would like a few more hands on deck than usual. Why, yes, you can stay with your brother's class. Do try not to tease Shouta too much. He has a reputation to maintain." After a few more pleasantries, Nezu hung up. "Midoriya?"

"I... think that's better? I'm sorry, it's hard to tell what could be the quirk and what's just me feeling bad."

Nezu nodded. "In that case, I do recommend that you head to Recovery Girl's office. My other calls will be similar, and the other heroes will not be with your class."

"Why not?" asked Mr. Yagi.

"Because Midoriya's reaction to the field trip being canceled suggests that the danger may not be limited to himself or his class. Oh! And one more thing. Midoriya, I noticed that you put in some costume alteration requests. Naturally, most of them will not be finished until some time next week, however, some of the support items you mentioned are fairly common. If you have time before the field trip, you should pay a visit to Power Loader."

Izuku hadn't expected it, but he did feel much better after eating, despite his continuing sense of impending doom. It was also about half an hour from the beginning of homeroom, so he had the time to go to the support department and check if they had anything he could take.

He hoped they had grappling hooks. Izuku had always wanted a grappling hook.

Mr. Yagi took him most of the way there, but students had started to arrive at this point, and Izuku convinced him to go prepare for classes (and hide in the staff area so that no one would wonder why he, a skeleton man not recognizable as a hero, was at the school). Before too long, Izuku stood in front of a rather sturdy-looking metal door. He hoped this was the right one.

He raised his hand to knock just as something crashed into him. Ah. This was it for sure. The way he would die. The danger he had foreseen.

No. Wait. Never mind. He was fine, just on the ground.

"Oh! There was a person there! You okay?"

"U-um," said Izuku, sitting up and rubbing his head. "I'm fine, just a little startled."

"What're you doing here, anyway?"

"I- I'm here for... support... gear?" He sort of trailed off as he looked up.

It was the intense pink haired girl from the other day. As he watched, her expression changed from one of mild concern to calculating interest.

"Support gear, you say?"

Shouta answered his phone as he walked down the hall. "Nezu, I've already done every security check I can think of that'll fit-"

"Not quite why I was calling, although I can see why you would think so. One of your students needs to be rescued from the support department."

Shouta changed direction without missing a beat. "It's Midoriya, isn't it?"

"Why, yes."

"Did you send him down there without warning him?"

"Yes, again. You know me so well!"

Shouta hung up.

#bnha #boku no hero academia #danger first au #danger first #fic #fanfic

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trailshome · 3 years

Note

hey clam!! it is i, spice anon, back from the dead to say hello and what would the ROs do if they were in an orpheus/eurydice situation? who would look back, and who wouldnt? ive seen this get asked around and it seemed pretty interesting!! anyway so much has happened since the last time i talked here!! me & my mom got shoes for the dresses (somehow i ended up with some small heels?? they look really nice tho!), my brother got to know the gender of his baby, the wedding is coming up soon and im so excited!! sigh anyway we got a new stove put in and we had lasagna for the first time in like a year...fun fact i used to hate ricotta cheese. everything about it would literally make me gag, from the smell to the taste to the texture it was just urgh but now i can eat it?? im not sure how this happened but hey im not complaining haha!!!

—spice!! [realized i forgot to say the babys gender. its a boy!! his name is charlie & in the ultrasound pictures(?) he made the most demonic face while waving!! we like to think he was celebrating halloween too :) adhsjk anyway last night i wrote So Much. i havent written like that in a while but it was so nice...like i got over 1600 words lmao i was so focused on it!! anyway how are you?? i havent sent in an ask in like!! over a week!! i kinda missed it too lol! anyway this is getting pretty long so ill end it here!! i hope you have a great day/night haha!! <3]

//Heya, Spice!! I'm doing... not awful, but sadly, I have a kidney infection that caused quite a bit of chaos last night but I'm feeling better now!! Also that's so exciting!! ahh!! a baby!! I love that he waved at you while making a face, that's honestly adorable (and a smidge scary) <3 and congrats on the writing!! You're doing amazing, Spice!! Keep at it!!

Finlay:

'Don't look back, don't look back, don't look back--' They try so desperately to just look forward, to just get out and leave, but it's hard and it fills Finlay's head with questions, fears, worries... They wish they could reach back, take their lover's hands in theirs, pretend that everything is okay and will be okay. But it won't because they look back, tempted by the sharp inhale behind them and the worries that plague their own mind. They fall to their knees, watching, staring into the dark void around them... and then stands and re-enters the land of the dead. 'For them. For us.'

Lesilfae:

He has no doubts that they are behind him. He knows it by the gentle footsteps, the delicate breathes, and the light huffs of weary sighs. He makes it out and, once free, takes his love into his arms. He apologizes for not checking on them but he knows they understand. They know why he didn't look back, didn't reach back, didn't talk back. He wanted to make sure. He wanted to guarantee that they would leave the land of the dead with him, to continue their lives another day together. He'd rather risk momentary pain that the long, agonizing pangs of loss.

Galeon & Hollond:

Tempted, he's tempted. He wants to look back, to make sure that not only is Hollond by his side, but that their other love is too. But no, no... Hollond grasps his hand, small, thin fingers digging into his flesh as they stifle anxious sobs with whispered whimpers. He knows they want to look back too, but the risk is too great. They've always been stubborn, quick to complete things to a T. The lovers make it out and, as the sunlight touches them and enfolds their lover, they collapse. Taking them into their arms, sobbing, muttering, hoping to have the rest of forever together.

Greta:

She looks back. She... she thought they had tripped, she thought they had fallen -- why was she punished for caring? She looks back into the depths of death, heart sinking as tears flood her wide, round eyes. No. She... she can't lose them. She was so close. So damn close to spending the rest of her life with them again. She wants to break down, to lay there until she can rejoin her love in the lands of the dead but no. Not yet. One more try. She'll fight the Dead God for another chance to take them back home. She'll kill the already killed who would try to stop her. They'll see each other again, one way or another.

#asks #answered #chara: greta #chara: hollond ovara #chara: finlay #chara: galeon hughes #chara: lesilfae #pure unfiltered angst #Orpheus and Eurydice are 10/10 good and sad #would fight hades for them #one of my favorite myths (aside from echo and narcissus)#spice anon #sending hugs!!

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sly-merlin · 3 years

Text

KILLING ME - 4

(minor friendly chapter)

pairing : law student! Reader + yuta

Genre : angst, mafia au/arranged marriage au

Warnings : none.

Words : 5k

Summary:

"life's never fair y/n. Realise it as soon as you can. It is the only secret for living a regretless life."

"curiosity got the cat hitched"

K.m masterlist

A/n : this series is totally minor friendly now. ✨

Previous morning in Taeyong’s office

“What was that for!” taeyong questioned jaehyun, clearly annoyed by his previous hostile mannerisms towards you. Jaehyun was on the receiving end of taeyong’s infuriation immediately after you departed from his office with doyoung.

“What!?” Jaehyun tried to act oblivious to Taeyong's accusations.

“Why were you trying to scare her? Escort ring! For fucks sake Jae, I expected better from you.”

“But it wasn’t a dead loss. And even you went along in the same wagon, so don’t put everything on me alone.” Jaehyun justified himself by shrugging his shoulders lightly. “And admit it! She was giving you a hard time. That bitch was not buying anything!

Taeyong knew jaehyun was right. Your unsatisfied replies and never ending enquiries were exasperating him, but he would rather preserve his precious ego than admitting that to jaehyun.

He ruffled his well-made hair before replying to Jaehyun, who was expecting some gratitude with a smug face.

“I-- just be careful and refrain from doing and saying anything that might put a dent in my plan. It’s a chance Neo would never get again. So be patient and don’t go around opening your mouth about this to anyone.” jaehyun reluctantly nodded,not hearing what he wanted but his affirmation calmed taeyong’s nerves. He couldn’t trust jaehyun entirely but his options were limited.

All the pieces were in the right place, for now. Nothing could go south right!

But jaehyun couldn’t completely understand the rationale behind Taeyong’s design.

and nor could the figure standing outside, completely hidden from the insiders.

The dread of the forthcoming finals substantiated the shortage of vacant seats in the kwanjeong library. You tried your best to arrive as expeditiously as possible for a person who partied, got abducted, arranged her own marriage, and again partied in grief, all in spam of about 34 hours. Finding no available seat, you decided to settle down on the floor. You gulped your cup of Americano in one go and began with the donut. As per a wise saying, Caffeine and sugar were the best combination as a breakfast for someone trying to get through their day with only 4 hours of sleep, the intellect being none other than your own self!

Yesterday was a pretty long day. Though you were worn out from the adventures with wonwoo last night, your brain wasn’t exhausted enough to shut down properly when you tried to close your eyes.The flashes of the events had shrouded you with a mixture of regrets and worries. What was the guarantee that you won’t end up dead tomorrow! What if taeyong was lying! But the fact regarding moon industries was absolutely legible. Maybe you should get a restraining order or something! But the existence of a person is necessary for that and yuta was a fucking corporate in the public eye and you were sure taeyong held some powerful position in the rich hierarchy as well, otherwise, covering the shits without revealing their true identities was not the job of some measly gang leader. There was more to taeyong than what someone could perceive just by looking. Will you be considered one of them now! After the little stunt that landed you straight into yuta’s life, you weren’t sure that he’d not strangle you in sleep. And What were you going to say to them? Chelin, yeom, guk, yeong.

and your thoughts spiralled from taeyong,yuta towards chelin and your friends and didn’t rest anytime before 4a.m. Waking up at 8 sharp , you took a shower and made your way towards the library.

And now you were here. 2 students passed your figure indicating that there were 2 vacant seats. Finally, after 15 minutes. They might have been the overnight students, you thought and walked inside before anyone else could claim the treasure. You had to find a new topic of thesis and do some research for an international paper your professor was writing, and you being his designated so-called subordinate had to help him, involuntarily of course. But in this world, the student who could refuse their professor’s demands was yet to be born! Marking the place by placing your bag, you started the search for last month’ law journals and digests. One and a half hours passed, but you couldn’t find anything on the international court of justice i.e. what your professor hadn’t already included. The urge to go out was profusely weighed down by your own sentiment of avoiding your friends. So you decided in favour of swallowing the bitter pill.

5 hours passed. The vibration of the timer in your phone prompted you to run off and get some food. It was already 2:30 and the lack of real food was making the tasks harder than they already were. Stepping outside into fresh air, instant regret of not bringing an umbrella washed over you. The sun was too bright unlike your mood and walking all the way to your favourite canteen would end up in you getting another headache. But you silently wished that every being from yesterday’s party was suffering from the same treatment of the over-the-top optimistic planet. why to suffer alone!

“Shortie” you lifted your head, spotting the combo of buy 1 get 1 free, heading your way.

“Where were you the whole day? And if you aren’t going to pick calls then please do that poor thing a favour and sell it!” yugyeom barked while running his hand through his hair.

You shrugged jungkook’s elbow from your shoulder and replied “I was busy with prof. Joong’s work. And I have to be somewhere after 4 so I was a bit-

“Joong should adopt you already man!” Jungkook interrupted, nudging your sides with his fingers.

“ but I thought he wanted to be her sugar daddy!” At that gyeom gave a serious and stern look to kook, pretending to ponder over his statement for a second and then suddenly they both started laughing, hands hitting you everywhere to support their doubling figures.

“Get away from me, idiots!” you shouted, trying to get away from them. Once they were done with showing their exaggerated emotions, you all giggled together in unison. they were wearing their fundraiser t-shirts, you noticed.

“When is the fundraiser?”

“At 5. But you won’t be there to support us cause you are busy with your daddy!” kook exclaimed while bumping your shoulder with his arm.

“I didn’t say I’m going for Joong’s work and no, he’s not my sugar daddy, doofus. I’m busy with tutoring. I missed someone’s Saturday class so—

“Okay, chill tiger. You need to breathe. It’s a boring event anyway.” gyeom said in a comforting tone, interjecting your rapid fire speech.

“I’m gonna have lunch, are you two going?” you suggested.

“Yeah, it’s our break and Yeong and Minjun have eaten already, so that leaves you!” kook pouted when gyeom mentioned his boyfriend’s name.

“Let’s go! I want my sugar” your dramatic pout made yugyeom pet your hair lovingly and the three of you started walking on a stone pathway on the way to the canteen.

“Where’s your umbrella?” jungkook asked you. He knew how much you hated walking under the sun after the drinking escapades.

“I forgot but let’s not talk about it. it’s making me grumpy.”

“Okay! but why don’t you cover your head with that scarf instead.” he said pointing towards the silky material around your neck.

“Naahh, it ruins my fashion” they gave each other a puzzled look, shrugging their shoulders for they both couldn’t gather the reason for your weird behaviour.

At lunch, you talked to them about the fundraiser and gave your own contribution for the noble cause. The conversation with them progressed too easily and for about an hour you forgot about the turmoil in your life, which was still unknown to them.

After parting away, you went straight to your professor to show him your progress. He took note of the materials you found on recent cases and dismissed you without showing any gratitude. Not even a word of appreciation.

A ping!

Jaemin: noona, doyoung hyung is picking you up at 4 but he won’t enter the campus. Be out at 4!

You let out a frustrated groan at his text. You had only met him once, when he conferred upon you the honour of connecting your phone to his server but that was not the only favour you received! He also saved his contact number with various hearts that you obviously removed after reaching home. you could only pray to heavens that he won’t be there today as well!

You made your way to the library again, this time to work on your thesis. The time passed faster than you thought. The alarm you placed earlier vibrated, indicating it was 4 already! You hastily made your bag and ran out of the library. It took 10 minutes to reach the gates of the campus. When you passed your dorms building, the idea of ditching doyoung and going to bed sounded tempting but as usual, nothing was going your way these days. You felt like the old catch 22 was in action.

You passed through the gates and looked around the road to find doyoung's car but he was nowhere to be seen. While you were scanning the whole area, a low voice called your attention.

“What are you finding, I’m right here under your nose” a voice said through gritted teeth.

Yes, he was indeed sitting in the car right in front of you and the only one you missed apparently. You walked around the car to sit on the passenger seat, the tinted windows hiding you from the outside funfair.

“What took you so long? It's 4:15 already.”

“I don’t have a car like you so I walked myself here and it’s not like I did it purposely anyway.” You contended, the annoyance in your voice matching his own.

“Whatever, we are already late so turn around. Taeyong would be mad.”

“No I’m not turning around. First that cloth bag, then the handkerchief you tied on my eyes yesterday, its painful man. I’ll lose my eyesight this way. And I can navigate the whole city from this place, you can’t hide your dungeon from me now” you reasoned. He didn’t tie your hands yesterday but your eyes were still covered.

“Then give me your scarf. I’ll cover your eyes with your own choice of article. It’s not painful or else you won’t be wearing it right! he said mockingly, pointing towards your neck.

“Umm, this scarf is act-

“Give me that already. I have some other things to handle as well.” assessing your options, you hesitantly removed the scarf, turning around to face the window immediately. Doyoung tied it across your eyes, checking the knot twice and tapped your shoulder. As you turned around, doyoung’s doe eyes widened, if that was even possible. Your collarbone and neck, which was visible through your v neck top, was covered with pretty purplish bruises. You fidgeted with your hands, flustered, feeling his eyes on you. But he remained quiet, focusing on the task at hand.

The whole drive was quiet and though your hands were not tied, you kept them on your backpack, hesitant to start any conversation. The car stopped finally, the mixed feelings coming back. The same process followed. He guided you inside but this time you passed only one door and the walk was quite shorter as well.

As doyoung was about to remove your scarf, a hand stopped him, or that was what you understood from the movements at that time.

“Silky scarf, blindfold and hickies haan! Being kinky doyoungie. She’s your sister-in-law. Show some respect boy!” a voice remarked, the air around your face suddenly filled with chocolate and coffee. You hiccupped all of a sudden, earning a chuckle from the unknown presence.

You tried to reach for the blindfold, but your hands were caught mid-air, the said hands removing it. You blinked your eyes a few times to make out the figure’s face. He was standing, mostly bending to match your stature, face smiling to show all of his teeth.

Yuta.

You, surprised, took a step back but instead bumped into the one behind you.

“I’ll take over from here, doyoung.” but fortunately, he didn’t budge. Your hold on the backpack tightened, your eyes lowered to avoid his gaze. The only thing in your view were his baggy pants and white sports shoes.

But yuta could see only you and nothing else. Taeyong wasn’t the only one awaiting your arrival. Yuta was equally anticipating you. His night was just as sleepless and anxious as you. He was afterall at the other end of the rope.

He raised your head, fingertips lightly grazing your chin. His hooded eyes roamed around your face like he was expecting you to show some contempt , hatred,nervousness! He straightened up abruptly and started tying the silk around your neck. You flinched at his touch but he remained void of any reaction. His half denim jacket and white t-shirt hid you from the surroundings, his arms almost engulfing you. He repositioned himself to match your height again, arms crossing against his chest.

“Looks like someone had a fun night.” and in a second, his honey smile changed into a smirk, letting go of any trace of earlier softer expressions. And the look on his face was enough to scare the shit out of anyone.

“Stop yuta” a taller man you recognised from yesterday as Johnny, pushed yuta aside from your view. It was then you saw that everyone was there. Including the one you were yet to encounter.

Your eyes wandered from one side to the other. Johnny let you inspect.

“Doyoung, what was the need to cover her eyes?” Johnny whispered to doyoung, breaking your trance.

“Why is everyone nagging me so much” he whined in a screeching voice.

“Karma bitch” Johnny pointed his forefinger towards him before giving his attention to you.

“Hey, how are you y/n.” he asked, his cheerful voice totally in contrast with the weather of the room.

“I’m- ummm.” you cleared your throat before continuing. “I’m fine Johnny. As fine I can be.” you mumbled the last part but he surely heard you.

“You remembered my name!” he clapped, his eyes turning into crescents. You gave him a tight lipped smile in return, waiting for some instructions. As if on cue, taeyong’s loud voice graced your ears.

“Come y/n. make yourself comfortable” he indicated towards the couches that were almost already occupied. Johnny gestured to you to proceed, walking with you. You passed yuta who was still smirking and sat on the single seat available next to taeyong. You placed your backpack on the large table in the middle of the room. It looked like a normal living room for guests, just with too many couches to accommodate the gang. You felt like an uninvited because apparently everybody was watching you like a hawk. Their stares changed sight only when yuta came to take a seat on one of the couches, exactly opposite to yours. You met his eyes briefly before turning your face towards your bag again.

Who knew the rusty zips of your bag were so interesting!

“So y/n I thought you should meet everyone. You are going to be part of this family soon. Better get acquainted with all.” taeyong addressed you while he sat on his couch majestically like a king. You heard a dry laugh and if you had to guess it had to be from jaehyun or yuta.

You didn’t understand why he wanted that. You were just a risk till yesterday and now means to discipline yuta.

And why all the formalities if you were gonna leave anyway.

“I’m going to leave anyway, taeyong. So I don’t see a need to do it!

You were too consumed to notice how your sentence turned all the heads around you. Some started giving side eyes to each other. There was something they were all missing.

“I said you could leave. But not without my permission. So, you’d be stuck for now, maybe till months or years.”

You gulped at his words. Taeyong turned your only hope into a distant dream. Maybe you were too foolish to gauge the situation.

“You want something to eat or drink before we continue” he asked in a sincere voice. Shaking your head, you rubbed your eyes with the palms of your hands to stop them from moistening. There was nothing more embarrassing than to cry in front of a bunch of strangers who didn’t give a shit about you.

“No, please continue.” you emphasised again to not draw any more attention to yourself than already was. And you internally thanked Taeyong who continued as if you weren’t just gonna cry!

“You will move in with yuta on Saturday,” it was Monday. “The wedding ceremony would be held in the morning. So you have a few days to prepare, everything from your dress to every other thing you need shall be arranged. Just name it and you’ll have it!”

Wedding ceremony! That was not on the plate!

“I don’t want a cerem-

“Leave the bullshit ta-

You and yuta both cut off each other simultaneously. You glanced at his side, finding him already piercing his gaze into yours.

“There’s no need for it. The paper signing is enough. It’s not like we are in-

You knew taeyong understood what you were trying to say, so you didn’t continue. But you were already having a feeling of superiority over yuta for being the first to offer your opinion. It felt like a payback for flustering you earlier. You refrained from facing him again, your body turned towards taeyong only, but you felt satisfied with the thought of him being riled up.

“Oh, but I want a ceremony taeyong and mark is going to be the best man. He’s so excited. You can’t do that to him!” yuta emphasised through the variation in his voice. You knew he changed his argument purposely , but you maintain your cool, opting to ignore him . bear and forbear.

Taeyong raised his eyebrow at you but you shook your head again.

“I don’t think it’d be a good idea. It’s not a normal one anyway so why pretend!” you held your ground.

“You aren’t getting married to a mannequin.” yuta retracted. “I’m getting married as well and don’t anyone dare say that I made a mistake and blah blah. At last I’ll be hitching so I want a ceremony and Japanese at that!”

Oh yeah, he was Japanese. You have missed that as well.

All the other men in the room, 9 to be exact, were nodding at everything that was being said. They were unable to decide whose argument was worth taking side for. Finally Johnny spoke-

“I think y/n is right” looking at nowhere in particular, he continued. “What’s with pomp and show when it’s nothing more than an agreement”

“But if yuta hyung wants it, then why not. They are going to live together, he should have his say as well.” It was Mark who took yuta’s side. He didn’t know why but watching yuta losing ground urged him to support his brother.

You looked briefly at the boy who just argued with Johnny.

“He’s mark y/n.” taeyong said the answer you were looking for. “And he’s Jungwoo, jeno, doyoung, you have already met him, then jaehyun, johnny, renjunie, hendery. Others are busy so you’ll meet them some other day probably.”

A few waved towards you, including Mark, who shyly withdrew his hand quickly. They all probably hated you as there was no other reaction towards a person who almost put your life in danger!

“Can we get to a middle ground now? I’m already getting tired of this” jaehyun grumbled, leaning into the couch.

“Ok so, he wants a celebration of a lie! What about me then? You are all here but I have no one. I’m alone and probably will be. Because taeyong, you haven’t told me how am I going to reveal this to my friends? I may not have a family, but still there are people close to me. They are my best friends, roommate, and many others who need to know! How am I going to explain to them that their friend who didn’t even have a boyfriend, is getting married suddenly? I don’t even have parents to cover it with an arranged marriage. How to convince them? Give me a way and I’ll agree” you pointed out the very important detail that they were missing. But they needed to know that there was other side of the paper as well and your reasons were not just a cry in the wilderness.

Nobody made a sound. Everything went quite like a dark night until-

“I hope this is not the calm before a storm!” you looked over to see the person who broke the silence. It was another young man coming with a food trolley, probably from the kitchen.

“I thought we have a guest so I prepared some coffee and donuts. I hope you like sweets y/n” the man was smiling ear to ear, seeming too happy with your visit.

“I-

“I’m kun.” he introduced himself and you shook his hand. He seemed too polite for a criminal. “Have this and tell me how it is” he forcibly handed you a dessert plate with a chocolate glazed donut. You took it out of politeness but felt a bit weird to be the only one eating it. You watched him with quizzical eyes as he took one for himself and sat on the arm of your couch. Everyone was now staring at your movements.

“Eat it, eat it. These are for you and me only.” he cajoled.

You decided to take a bite and then place it back just to stop the awkwardness.

As you bit it from one side, your brain short circuited. “Holy shit, bro. What is this sorcery.” your genuine and innocent reaction made Kun laugh loudly, some of the others joined in as well.

“Thank god, you like it! I’m so glad you aren’t one of weight conscious ones, otherwise it’d have been weird.” he started munching on his own piece.

“I’m a sugar bear. I can’t live without sugar. I just had a donut in the morning but it was bleh compared to this. You are a master chef bro.” and for a minute you forgot the previous tense environment. Everyone was glad that Kun came to save the situation and except to you, it was known that obviously he heard everything from the kitchen.

“You ate one in the morning! Then it’s the last one you’re getting. Everyone help yourself. She’s not having any more!” as if they were waiting, everyone except mark and yuta picked them up.

“Mark” Kun motioned towards the tray and he grabbed one as well.

“What if I was allergic to chocolate, kun” you asked him while finishing your treat.

“Oh please! Even ten eats it.” he laughed to himself at his reference, which went over your head.

“Now coming to the point.” Everyone looked at taeyong who was already done with eating. “Y/n doesn’t want anything special so it’ll happen like that. No!yuta, lemma speak. And you y/n, it’s upon you to make your friends believe. Make up a story or do whatever you want. You don’t want to tell them about the wedding. Fine with me but do let them know at least that you have a boyfriend that you are moving in with! It’s on you both to make this arrangement believable.

“okay , sho now I shuggenly hab a voyfiend” you started speaking without even finishing the bite in your mouth. you continued once you chewed it.

“won't they be suspicious. They know exactly what I do and what I don’t. It’s almost impossible to put a façade in front of them.”

“Oh please, don’t tell me they even know from where you got those hickies” jaehyun’s curt statement was a hit below the belt. Kun was about to scold him when you elaborated his statement further to prove that he was doing nothing but burning his own fingers.

“Yes, actually they happen to know. When, where and from whom I got these. Anything else you want to ask?.” he rolled his eyes on your reply, busing himself with the delicacy instead.

“They don’t know yuta. So if you want you can introduce him to your people. He won’t be posing any problem, take my word for it.”

“I’ll go with you if you also accompany me,that I guess would be a problem for you. You don’t want to be seen with a criminal, or do you!” yuta jabbered. He was trying to push your buttons to measure your limit. But little did he know that you were far from being that easy.

“I just said I don’t want a wedding. I’ll agree to anything that is reasonable and is not degrading to me.”

“Ok then, nobody would force you to do what you don’t want.” Taeyong decided to take matters into his own hands now. “And we’ll organise a small, very intimate gathering at taeil’s office to celebrate as yuta wants. And you’ll be introduced as Mrs. Nakamoto to our corporate world.” taeyong finished gauging both of your reactions. The surname was foreign and cringing to you. But it was going to be yours, so there was nothing you could do, for now.

“What do you mean ‘our’ corporate world.” you got puzzled at his choice of words.

“You’ll find out soon and it's nothing scary, don’t worry.” Kun responded on behalf of taeyong this time, handing you your cup of coffee. “Tell me if it’s cold, I’ll-

“No it’s totally fine.” you assured him, without even taking a sip. He was being nice enough already.

“If my opinion has no value, then what am I even doing here!” yuta shouted, getting up from the seat.

“yut-

Before Kun could say anything, he stormed off. Mark tried to follow but taeyong stopped him from doing that.

“Don’t mind him. He’s a hot head.” Johnny laughed in between his bites.

You only nodded, sipping your coffee. You were glad he was gone. Sugar has always done wonders for you and it was having the same effects now as well. You were able to think more rationally now.

“One more thing” you furrowed your brows at taeyong. What was left now! “Do you want any specifications in the house? It’s my responsibility. A wedding gift you can say. If you need anything like extra closet, a more spacious kitchen-

“Kitchen?” you let out a brief chuckle at that. Everyone’s eyes were on you now. “It’ll be totally fine if I don’t even get a kitchen. I can’t cook anything besides ramyeon and salads. So I won’t even need that.”

“You are a student. Don’t you know anything basic.” It was Jungwoo who spoke in the sweeter voice than Kun's.

“No. I grew up in an orphanage and they provided us everything. I left when I started law. So all in all, I never had anyone to teach me. That’s why if you want to know best food trucks and restaurants in the city, I’m your best option.but, if that yuta knows how to cook, ask him about the kitchen.” you spoke nonchalantly .But you didn’t realise how uncomfortable the air had become. a heavy silence took over the light atmosphere.

“I’m sorry noona” Jungwoo apologised sheepishly.

“It’s fine. After all there are some things that your hacker can’t find out. only I can tell you those.” saying that, you faced taeyong again. “But if you insist, I can always use a study room.” you tried to enlighten the mood again.,ppp

“Ok. I’ll find something suitable for you both.” you hummed, not knowing what to say anymore.

“Can I go back now?”

“Yes, doyoung will drop you.”

“No, I’ll go with her.” Johnny said, grabbing your attention. He didn’t look sulky like doyoung so, it’d be fine, you guess.

They said you goodbyes. Mark seemed hesitant to even look at you, but you couldn’t care less. He was just a stranger after all.

Yuta couldn’t realise why everyone was trying to be so nice to you. Till yesterday, he was allowed to put a gun on her head but now every being was against him. He didn’t know why he was so furious at Taeyong, to force him to marry you or for dragging Mark into this mess. Taeyong knew how to play dirty, but yuta never thought he’d use his own brother. There was no option for him as well, as taeyong has said. He showed interest in a fucking celebration to contradict you, but you were not backing down and that felt like a punch to his gut.

He drove towards his stress reliever. The infamous Japanese club, the only place where he could drown his sorrows.

The club was packed despite it being Monday. That was one thing he liked about it, you’ll never be disappointed in this place.

“ゆた!” The hostess chimed seeing yuta. “久しぶり” [ long time, no see!]

He signed her to give him 2 shots. She did as told but her gaze was following yuta’s, which rested on her cleavage. He came here only for 2 things after all.

He gulped the drink in a second without blinking an eye.

“バックルーム” [ back room]

She wasn’t someone to be told twice. She handed her hand towel to her co-worker and followed the path. Who was she to reject him after all?

He drove back silently again. The relief he felt was all dissipated now. Instead his mind was already wandering towards you. Your headstrong attitude was troubling him. his plans were all down and out. He hated you , from the moment he laid his eyes on you. You acted like you were invincible but he knew it was just a mask to protect yourself.

He had noticed how you rubbed your eyes to hide your disappointment for you didn’t want to appear weak. All he had to do now was to find a vulnerable part of you, to hit you where it’d hurt the most. It’d be last time he lost to you.

Afterall, beginning is always easy, it is continuing that’s hard!

#nct scenarios #nct imagines #nct drabbles #nct mafia #nct series #nct fluff #nct angst #nct x reader #nct arrange marriage #yuta scenarios #yuta imagines #yuta x reader #yuta mafia #yuta arrange marriage #yuta angst #yuta fluff #nct fanfics

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dragosar1 · 3 years

Text

White Knight, Mirror, Mirror happy rewrite

So... I was told to post this here by a friend. This is a rewrite of both Mirror, Mirror songs myself and my writing partner did for a White Knight story we’re doing called ‘The Song Of Her Heart’ Please don’t judge too harshly?

Mirror, Mirror Part 1

She sat with her lap beneath his head, a gentle whisper on her lips as she smiled down at the young man whose dreams were haunted by nightmares he didn't deserve.

As she watched him sleep a peaceful sleep brought upon by her presence... a song came to mind... a song that had once stood for all her pain and the loss of the family she dearly wished to have...a melody with a lighter tune sounded in her mind, the song in her chest joining the melody, a piano beginning to play for none but herself to hear...

But now that song was different... and it was a song she silently hummed to the resting knight...

"Mirror... tell me something... tell me am I no longer the loneliest... of all?~”

The melody of her soul began to pick up tempo as her slow beat grew in power and speed, her heart of hearts telling her to keep going, to sing for the knight who sought her comfort...

“Mirror, tell me something, tell am I really no longer the loneliest of all...?~”

He whispered her name in his sleep, her soothing touch lulling him back to sleep as her quiet song increased its' beat.

“Break the fear of what's inside me, Mirror, has my frozen heart been thawed?”

It grew and grew, the song crying out in joy as wonder as words from deep within were released without fear or worry, Weiss smiling down at the one that adorned Jaune's face...

“Mirror, mirror I will see what's behind you! Reveal to me that which I once tore apart!”

Memories of how he smiled at her, filled her mind, how those eyes were filled with such pain and suffering and yet for her there was only care... care and love...

“I can't keep it from the world, why do you do this to my heart? Mirror... mirror... tell me something... am I truly the loneliest of all?”

Once more her name was whispered, the last dregs of his fear whisked away by her lullaby... she had her answer.

“I am no longer the loneliest of all...”

She paused for breath... a content smile on her face as he drifted off to sleep, her job was done, he didn't need her song anymore... and so she allowed herself to sleep.

Mirror, Mirror Part 2

Another night.

Another horrid dream seemed to find Jaune, Weiss at his side in a moment, feeling that touch of his very soul searching for her... and this time another melody came to mind at the feeling he ensued within her.

This one was new, this one... something that only came to mind after the many years she had spent with Jaune... her husband and the father to her children. The nightmares, ones of those they failed to save and those that had come to try and harm her... the one where he had failed to save her from Cinders spear the most prevalent one.

He was her comfort throughout the years, all knew this... but few knew that she was his. His for when the dark grew within his mind like it had all those years ago, back at Beacon...

“~Who was I to complain? When you suffered through so much pain...”

He was her love and her life, her Jaune... she hardly remembered such a time when they had been anything other than together. Times... she would much rather forget for how she had treated him.

“You in my life is all I need... the comfort you bring is always guaranteed...”

That was the truth, no other way of putting it. Her dearest and truest friends in RBY and NPR had been the start of her new life... But Jaune... and the family he had given her...? They were home... a home she had never expected to find... But would never allow herself to lose.

“So what was the problem? What kept me from moving past my guilt... it was so hard to see...”

For months, she had convinced herself that loving him would never work. How could it? Ah, such a fool she had been...

“With you I'm free now... with you I'm fine... And the life I fought for, is now all mine~”

The night he had proposed...The day she'd said 'I do'... the day she had found out she was pregnant and the day their first child had been born, the feeling the same with their other two children. Treasured memories, every single one.

Tucked away inside the comforting embrace of the song, her smile never shining brighter than when it let the melody out once more...

“I never believed in those fairy stories, of the ghosts none could see... and yet now I can do so much, for as long as you my knight believe in me...”

He never allowed her to doubt herself, never allowed her mind to niggle and gnaw away at her thoughts for every possible thing that could go wrong. He always told her that she was the girl who looked a god in the eye, saw the vast power they offered if she would simply let them rule... and said 'NO'. If she could do that, what made her think she couldn't do anything she set her mind to?

Hah... she let the melody take her in that moment, gently stroking the hair of her beloved knight.

“Mirror, mirror. Tell me something... have I become the happiest of all? Years of scorn had left me cold... 'forget your dreams, do what your told'...When disapproval was all I was shown... I decided it was safest to be alone...”

Tears... tears of a past she had lived through, and yet they shed for the present she adventured with Jaune...

“Yet isolation... was the place you refused to let me stay...Your smile... brought light to my day... And bit by bit then... with kindness keeping the fear away...You slowly started... to show me another way...”

The door creaked open, Weiss looking up to see Winter smiling at her, holding little Jacob in her arms. She nodded her head once, shutting the door behind her as she left, quiet as snow falling upon the ground...

“I never believed in those fairy stories, of the ghosts none could see... and yet now I can do so much, for as long as you my knight believe in me... Mirror, Mirror... I'll tell you something... I think I might be the happiest of all...”

The glow that had started it all shone out once more... Weiss allowing blissful sleep the encompass her as she and her Jaune drifted off the peaceful rest...

#rwby weiss #rwby jaune #rwby whiteknight #rwby song #first post don't hate me?

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heyitssmiller · 4 years

Text

Chop It Like It’s Hot

Chapter 2: Goodness Gracious, Great Balls of Fire

@lumosinlove Thank you for your lovely characters! This has been so fun to write. :)

Hope you guys enjoy!

Chop It Like It’s Hot Masterlist

Leo took one look one look at his co-star slumped at a table in the break room and changed his trajection to include a stop at the coffee machine. “Morning, Dorcas.”

“You’re not allowed to talk right now.”

He laughed under his breath, pressing the espresso button and opening the fridge to look for any non-expired milk products. “Talking is a big part of our job, you know.”

“Does it look like I’m on the clock right now?”

Leo hummed noncommittally, stirring some whole milk into the coffee before sliding it across the table to Dorcas. “Rough night?”

She grabbed the mug and took a tentative sip. Her shoulders relaxed fractionally and she let out a relieved sigh. “I forgot that you actually know how to make office coffee taste good.”

“I’m offended that you doubted me.” Leo took the empty seat next to her. “Now what happened?”

Dorcas looked down at her hands wrapped tightly around her mug, expression carefully neutral. “I broke up with her.” She laughed humorlessly. “I knew it wasn’t working for a while now, so I don’t understand why I’m so upset about it. Our schedules never lined up and we never really saw each other anymore. So I figured it was best to do it now instead of dragging it out.”

Leo knew she wasn’t one for physical affection, so he just sat by her side. “Still hurts, though. She was a big part of your life for a while now; it’s ok to be upset about it, no matter what the circumstances of the breakup are.”

“Yeah.”

“You’re going to be ok. Might not feel like it right now, but you’re as tough as they come.”

“Relationships are shit.”

“Breakups are shit.” Leo corrected gently.

“You know, sometimes people just want to feel like shit for a while. You don’t have to try and fix everything all the time.” She said, but her voice was teasing instead of accusatory. “How are you not emotionally exhausted all the time?”

“A lifetime of practice and sheer force of will.”

Dorcas laughed and shoved him away. “You suck.”

“If you want someone to just rant to, I can definitely make room for that tonight. You can experiment with your cocktail recipes, then get unbelievably drunk off them and trash talk all night.”

“You just want free drinks.”

“Consider it payment for the coffee and pep talk.” He said, rising to his feet. “Come on, we should get to the studio.”

She smiled and followed Leo out the door. “If there’s one thing guaranteed to cheer me up, it’s watching other people fail spectacularly at cooking.”

Dorcas got the cue from the director and started their cooking segment. “Recruits, today I’ll be showing you how to make perfectly-done mashed potatoes, and chef Leo will be teaching you how to make bone-in ribeye. Make sure you’re taking notes – you can use those when you attempt to recreate this dish later today.” There was a frantic flurry of movement as everyone took their notepads out and tried to find their pens.

“All right,” Leo grabbed a large slab of ribeye from the ingredients counter with both hands and heaved it onto the front table. Several recruits flinched back while others looked sick at the sight of their meat actually resembling the animal it came from. He bit back a smile and picked up a butcher’s knife.

God, he loved this job.

“So we’re just going to cut these and then you’re going to take a towel and just basically tear this portion of the meat off in one big piece. You see that? Then we’re going to add oil to a hot pan and drop the steak in.” The sizzling sound of the Maillard reaction filled the room. “We’re going to be basting this with thyme and half a stick of butter once the meat is cooked.”

A frantic whisper of “What the hell is basting?” rose up as Dorcas took over the lead, starting by bringing water to a boil and then waiting for it to reduce to a simmer. Leo watched as several of the recruits’ eyes glazed over, completely lost as Dorcas peeled potatoes in quick, practiced movements.

Leo recognized Logan’s voice as it carried from his spot in the crowd. “Do they have a medic on this show?”

“I hope so.” Finn murmured back.

“Our steak is done now. See the color on that?” Leo grabbed the steak with a pair of tongs and held it up for the recruits to see. “Now for our sauce. Have you guys ever flambéed anything before?”

“Lo, is that French?”

Logan’s microphone just barely picked up his little chuckle. “Yes.”

“Its literal translation means ‘flamed.’” Leo supplied, watching fear develop on their faces and trying his hardest not to laugh, biting his lower lip in the process.

This was only going to end badly, in a glorious blaze of fire.

“We’ve never had a disaster happen on the show flambéing something. Let’s try to keep it that way.” He grabbed the bottle of cognac at his station. “I’m going to take all of this cognac, add it to our pan with the sauce, and light it.”

He grabbed a lighter, flicked it on, and lightly touched it to the surface of the alcohol. Pink-red flames sprung from the pan, causing several of the recruits to shout and step back in alarm. “We’re just going to let it sit and burn off that alcohol.”

Dorcas grabbed her pan and added shallots to it. “I’m going to start getting my shallots sautéed, and –“

“Shallots?” A recruit asked, confusion etched on her face.

“Yes.”

“What are those?”

Dorcas turned and grabbed a shallot from the counter behind her. “This is a shallot.”

“Oh, so an onion.”

“No.” Dorcas said plainly, grabbing a hand mixer to blend her potatoes, butter, and cream. “Once the shallots are cooked, I add them to the potatoes and mix it all together. Then all you have to do is plate all this and you’re done.”

Leo grabbed his saucepan and spooned some out. “Don’t forget to add your sauce on top of the ribeye.”

“Now it’s your job to recreate this dish on your own. You have an hour to complete this challenge. And your time starts… now!”

Chaos ensued. Knives were waved around haphazardly, chopping skills were slim to none. One recruit was still trying to turn the stove on, while another had grabbed a pan that definitely wasn’t going to be big enough for a ribeye steak.

Leo shot Dorcas a horrified look. “Did we go too fast? I thought we explained everything pretty well, but now I’m not sure.”

“That’s just the way of this show.” Dorcas said with a shrug. “We need to see what level they’re on and what their strengths and weaknesses are before we can really start teaching. It gets better when we’re allowed to get out there and help them.”

Finn and Logan had cut off their own ribeyes first and were headed back to their stations. “Oh god I don’t remember anything they showed us.” Finn stressed, putting his ribeye directly onto the pan without any oil.

Logan looked down at his thyme and butter, seemingly at a loss. “Just look at your notes.”

“I can’t read it. You know I have terrible handwriting. Look,” he flipped his notepad around to show Logan. “That’s all I wrote down.”

“Does that say goat?” Logan asked, not bothering to strip the leaves of thyme off the stems and just throwing the entire sprig of herb into his pan.

Finn turned it back around squinted. “Maybe?”

“I like your smiley faces, though.” Logan said, pressing a quick kiss to Finn’s cheek. The redhead smiled broadly.

“Thanks, baby.”

Dorcas hummed by Leo’s side. “I forgot they’re together.”

“Yeah,” Leo absentmindedly fiddled with the bracelet around his wrist. “Must be hard. Hockey’s not known for being accepting.” He tried not to think too much about his memories of locker rooms, judgmental eyes, and the slurs of his own teammates from years ago.

A shout from one of the recruits snapped him back to attention. The recruit was halfway across the room from her on-fire sauce and refusing to go back to her station. Leo sighed. “Flambéing was a horrible first lesson.”

“Maybe. But it sure is entertaining.” Dorcas raised her voice to be heard by the contestants. “Don’t leave pans on a stove unattended, please!”

“Let it rain!” Finn shouted, throwing salt into his pot of cooking potatoes. Dorcas cackled joyously as she watched.

“How much salt are you going to put in there?” Leo called, eyes wide.

Finn repeated, “Let it rain!” as if it were an actual answer.

“I think he just put a cup of salt in those potatoes.”

Dorcas was wheezing now, hunched over as she laughed.

“Laugh now, but we’re the ones who have to taste that.”

She instantly stopped laughing. “Oh shit.”

“We’re definitely going to need those drinks tonight.”

***

Logan’s dish was up first. Leo looked down at his steak and fished out a thyme stem, holding it up for him to see. “When you’re working with thyme, you really need to just use the leaves. When the stems are cooked they get really tough and can be like swallowing fish bones when they’re like this.” He cut into the ribeye and took a bite. “But your steak tastes really good. It’s perfectly cooked and not too dry.”

Logan flashed them a blinding smile (that might have left Leo a little speechless, but he wasn’t planning on admitting that anytime soon).

“The potatoes have a good consistency, too.” Dorcas added when Leo didn’t say anything else. “Good job, Logan.”

After several raw steaks, burned steaks, and soupy mashed potatoes were tasted, the dish both of the chefs were dreading the most appeared in front of them.

Finn’s potatoes.

Dorcas looked to Leo, then met Finn’s eyes. “Now, I haven’t come across many things I’m genuinely afraid to eat. But these potatoes…”

Finn laughed good-naturedly. “Yikes.”

Leo’s eyes bulged as he tried the potatoes. “I think I’m dehydrated now.”

“I think I have a water bottle somewhere, if you want it.”

“I’m tempted to take you up on that.” Dorcas said, voice strained. “In the future, go light on the salt.”

In the end, they had to eliminate the contestant who gave them burned steak and didn’t serve mashed potatoes at all. The directors called cut shortly after that and people visibly relaxed, chatting with friends while the cleaning crew came through and started dealing with the mess. Leo felt like he should probably help with that; there sure was a lot to clean. The crew would be here until midnight at this rate. So he grabbed a disinfectant spray and a rag, turning to start wiping things down and almost running right into Logan as he did so.

“Hey, chef!” Finn said from his spot next to the brunet. “Have your taste buds recovered yet?”

He laughed with a shrug. “I have a feeling they’ll be messed up from now until a month after this show ends. That might be for the best, anyways.”

“Why in the hell did you sign up for this?” Logan asked, head tilted in confusion. “You’re forced to eat awful food and watch a bunch of amateurs destroy this kitchen. Seems more stressful than anything.”

“I mean, watching you wave around that knife today just about gave me a heart attack-“ Finn interrupted him with a loud burst of laughter, causing Leo to smile as he continued, “But it’s fun teaching y’all. It’s a good change of pace. Doing just competitions gets old after a while.”

“Yeah, especially if you win all of them.”

Leo felt his cheeks heat up. “Not all of them.”

“Most of them, then.” Logan amended. “Don’t sell yourself short; you’re really good.”

“So are you guys.” Leo stammered a little, trying to think of the right words. “I – I just wanted to say it’s really cool that you’re both raising so much awareness for the need for diversity in hockey. It’s going to make a world of difference to a lot of people.”

I wish I’d had someone like the two of you to look up to when I was growing up.

He played with his bracelet again. It wasn’t a secret that he was gay – he’d talked about it a few times on various shows and competitions he’d participated in. That was one of the best things about the cooking industry. It didn’t matter who you were or what your secrets were; as long as you were a good cook, most people didn’t really care. Leo had realized at a young age that, no matter what he ended up doing with his life, he wasn’t going to hide any part of himself. He’d done that dance before, and he didn’t care to relive it any time soon.

Finn smiled, throwing an arm around Logan’s shoulders. “Well, thanks. It hasn’t always been the easiest, but we’re happy.”

Leo resolutely ignored the strange pang in his chest at those words. It wasn’t fair of him to be jealous. “I’m glad.” He glanced around and noticed the progress the crew had made. “I should probably go. We’ve still got a lot to do before we head out.”

“Do you guys need any help?”

Leo couldn’t help but laugh a little at that. “Seeing that you made most of this mess, maybe we should have you clean up,” he teased Finn, who pouted. “But no, we’re fine. Thanks for the offer, though. Y’all have a good night.”

“You too!” Logan called over his shoulder. He leaned over to whisper something to Finn, who threw his head back and laughed.

Leo turned away and started wiping down the nearest counter.

***

Post-Episode Interview

Leo: *gives the camera a pained look* Is cooking really this hard for people? I want to get out there and help them so badly, but I can’t. We’re supposed to just observe for this challenge.

The video switches from Leo talking to footage from the earlier challenge: Leo grimacing and taking an aborted step towards a recruit getting his face way too close to the fire. Leo looking on in horror as another recruit wields a knife incorrectly and nearly loses a finger. Dorcas laughing as a recruit tries to grab her potatoes out of a pot of hot water with her bare hands while Leo reaches out and grabs onto the edge of the table with a white-knuckled grip. “Oh god, this isn’t safe at all.” Dorcas ruffles his hair, standing on her tiptoes to do so. “Poor rookie. You get used to it.”

*Back to Leo in the interview room, pinching the bridge of his nose*

Leo: My hair will be completely gray by the end of this show.

#lumosinlove #Sweater Weather #Coast To Coast #finn o'hara #logan tremblay #leo knut #o'knutzy #chop it like it's hot

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amelinksanatomy · 3 years

Text

Hotel

A/N: This is based on 15x21. I accidentally deleted the prompt but someone requested this scene. It’s smut. It’s explicit. It’s quite long. It has a little more dialogue in it so if that's not your thing then... you’ve been warned.

It had been a long day of travelling and delays but, Amelia and Link had finally made it to their hotel in New York. They had just checked in and made it up to their adjoining rooms. The two had separated to freshen up, it was beginning to get late and they had an early morning tomorrow.

Link was starting to sort his things out, hanging clothes up and scoping out the free items in the room. His back was turned, looking though the beside cabinet drawer when he heard the door between the two rooms bust open.

“Amelia! What the fuck!” He turns around sharply, startled by the sudden intrusion as Amelia walks in.

“Take off your pants.” Amelia demands, throwing her shirt over her head and onto the floor.

“What?” Link watches, confused “I thought you said the last time was the last time”

“You,” she points at him from across the room “were teasing me on the plane and now I'm horny!”

“I was not teasing you!” he throws his hands up defensively “Yes you were! With your hand running up my leg!”

“Amelia, you were anxious, I was trying to comfort you!” he laughs, shaking his head

“Well, you turned me on! So,” Amelia unbuttoned her pants and pulled them off, tossing them behind her “I need you.”

It didn't take much to convince Link. He was soon unbuttoning his shirt. Amelia walked towards him, connecting their lips. Her need was evident in the kiss. They barely came up for air as Amelia slipped her hands between their bodies and began unbuckling his belt. Their kiss was messy and passionate, Amelia could hardly focus on her task. Link lifts her up, putting her on the bed before ridding himself of his pants and boxers, allowing his erection to spring free and attract Amelia’s eyes.

Moments later, Link was climbing onto the bed and towards Amelia. She was laying back by the pillows, propping herself up on her elbows, watching as Link came towards her. Their lips connect again, kissing each other deeply, his tongue running across her bottom lip. Soon, he leaves her lips and kiss down her neck causing her to moan quietly as he finds her sweet spot.

He didn't linger for too long, knowing she was worked up already and feeling his cock getting painfully hard against the mattress. He kissed down her body, getting to her panties. He smirks up as he cups her through her underwear, feeling how soaked she was already, “Oh, you weren’t kidding when you said I'd turned you on.”

Amelia shook her head no, anticipation rising as Link pulls off her panties and throws them to the floor with the rest of their discarded clothes. His head immediately dives between her thighs, placing a soft kiss over her clit, hearing her moan softly,

“Please.” she begs, opening her legs wider to allow him more access.

She feels as his tongue runs up and down her wet slit a few times before beginning to circle her clit. Amelia arches her back, pushing herself into him further, needing more. Link gets the message, untangling one of his arms from her thighs, and bringing his hand to her centre. She moans as he pushes two fingers into her, slowly at first while his tongue circles her clit.

“I need more.” she moans quietly “Please.”

Link picks up the pace of his fingers, pumping them in and out of her as his tongue continues its work. Her moans increase as he takes her clit into his mouth, beginning to suck on it. Amelia begins writing beneath him, feeling herself getting close. Link lifts his eyes, watching as Amelia throws her head back onto the pillow and her back arches, he uses his free hand to hold her in place. He pumps his fingers faster, curling them to hit her g-spot, earning a guttural moan from Amelia.

“Oh godddddd, I'm gonna-” Amelia lets out a high pitch squeal as she cums, releasing herself over his fingers, legs shaking and hips lifting off the bed.

Link continues moving his fingers inside her, slowly now, helping her to ride out the waves of her orgasm. As she comes down from her high, her chest moving up and down quickly as she breathes heavily, Link pulls his fingers out of her. She groans at the loss of contact, lifting herself up on her elbows to look at him. He smirks at her and brings her fingers up to his mouth, licking them clean.

Amelia pulls him back up, attaching their lips, moaning as she tastes herself on him. The kiss becomes more passionate, Amelia laying back down as Link moves above her. She can feel his erection pressing against her. She reaches between them and wraps her cold hand around him. Link groans into her mouth as he feels her pump him softly. Link pulls away, breaking the kiss to look at her,

“I don’t have a condom.” he says with questioning eyes, she shakes her head indicating that she hasn't got one either, “I don't care.”

Link goes back to kissing her while he moves between her legs once more, lining himself up at her dripping entrance. He takes hold of his length with one hand, running the tip through her sensitive folds causing her to moan and bite her lip,

“Link, please.” he continues his actions, kissing her between words “I need you inside me.”

He smiles at her, watching the pleasure wash across her face as he pushes himself in. They both moan as they feel his tip stretch her. He pushes in more, slowly, before pulling out.

“Stop teasing me.” Amelia groans.

Before she can say anything else, Link pushes in again. His full length was now inside her. Amelia’s legs bend more as she pulls him closer. He starts moving slowly at first, keeping most of his penis inside her at all times.

“Faster.” Amelia demands, moaning quietly. Her walls were so warm and wet from her first orgasm that he was slipping in and out so easily. He didn't pick up his pace, he wanted to make this last, he wanted to make sure she got there first.

“Link, please.” Amelia groans, his current speed not enough for her.

He began moving a little faster, but still, it was not enough for her. Amelia began bucking her hips to try and encourage him to go faster, throwing her head back in frustration,

“Fuck. Link. Fuck me.” she demands, between quiet breathy moans, “Oh, you want me to fuck you?” Link smirks, teasing her once again.

“Please.” she begs.

Link continues his thrusts, “How do you want it?” he asks in a sultry tone, “Hard. Please.”.

Link decided he’d teased Amelia enough. He pulled out, causing her to groan and look up at him. Before she could complain, Link moves so he can push her legs back, her ankles next to her head and her ass lifting slightly. His hands rest on her thighs to keep her in place before he re-enters her. He doesn't give time to adjust before he begins thrusting into her. His erection pulling almost all the way out before pushing back in on each thrust.

“Oh my godddd” Amelia squeals, caught off guard by his increase in pace.

The angle means Link is able to push deeper than before, his length immediately hitting against her g-spot with every thrust.

“God, you feel so good.” Link groans, trying to stay aware of his surroundings. He increases his pace again, the sound of skin slapping filling the room along with their moans.

“Oh fuck. Oh my god. Harder.” Amelia moans loudly, profanities leaving her mouth with every thrust, her eyes rolling back in pleasure.

Link continues pounding into her, becoming aware of just how loud Amelia was getting, “We’re gonna get a noise complaint soon if we’re not careful.”. Amelia didn't care. The things he was making her feel left no room for coherent thoughts.

“Oh. Yes, fuck. Right there.” Amelia squealed as Link hit her spot repeatedly as he pounded into her. Link could tell she was getting close. He was too but he wanted to make sure he held off long enough for her to get there.

“Fuck. Fuck. Don’t stop.” Amelia moans loudly, feeling herself on the edge “Please. Don't stop.”

“Amelia,” Link grunts “I'm close.”

“Mmm, me too.” Amelia’s mouth opens into an O shape, the pleasure building in her lower abdomen as Link animalistically pounds into her.

“I’m gonna have to pull out.” Link says, breathlessly between thrusts. He knows she's on the pill and he had previously finished inside her without a condom but they’re doctors, they know its not guaranteed protection so he doesn't want to chance it again. Amelia throws her head back onto the pillow again “No. Keep going. I’m almost there.”

Link removes one hand from Amelia’s thigh, moving it to her centre and beginning to rub circles on her clit frantically, matching the pace of his thrusts.

“Don’t stop. Ohhhhhh. Fuck! I'm about to-” her back arches off the bed, her body shaking. Amelia screams his name as she cums, releasing herself over his cock.

Link slows his thrusts, continuing to move his hips to help her through her orgasm. It was taking all his strength to hold off his own release as her walls contract around him, wanting her to get all the pleasure out of hers first. His fingers continued circling her clit slowly, causing aftershocks that forced her body to jolt. Her moans begin to quieten down, Link feels his cock twitch inside her,

“Amelia,” he moans, eyes closing in pleasure “I’m gonna cum.”

Link gave her a few more powerful thrusts, preparing to pull out, lay back and finish himself off. Just as he felt like he was about to explode, he pulls out of Amelia, both of them groaning at the loss of contact. A second later, Amelia is sat up and Link feels her mouth wrap around his tip.

“Amelia, no, this is about you, you don't have t-” his words get lost in his throat as Amelia takes most of his 8 inches in her mouth. She bobs her head, her hand working the base of his shaft. Link can't hold in his moans, groaning loudly.

“Oh fuck. Amelia, i’m gonna-” he warns as she moves her head faster.

Seconds later, he’s exploding in her mouth. He throws his head back, eyes rolling as he cums. He repeatedly groans her name, loudly, as he empties out his load. Once his grunts quieten down, Amelia removes him from her mouth, running her tongue across the tip one last time before they both collapse.

Link lays on his side, pulling her body closer. They grin at each other, Amelia watching as Link runs his fingers softly up and down her arm,

“Thank you.” she whispers, staring at him. She catches herself falling, feeling her heart flutter, looking away quickly.

She jumps up, sitting on the edge of the bed as she grabs his shirt, pulling it onto her body before standing up, turning to face him.

“You wanna get a pizza or something? I know a great place.” Link asks, wanting her to stay longer.

“Well, it’s late. I should, uh, go to sleep.” she replies “It’s only 8:30 in Seattle.”

“Yeah, but we’re not in Seattle. We’re in New York and we’re doing a complicated surgery on New York time in the morning.” she smiles, continuing to button the shirt as Link grabs the room service menu, throwing it onto the bed, “Okay, fine. Room service... in bed, then sleep.”

“We agreed. Just sex, no sleepovers.” she begins collecting her clothes from the floor, smirking at him.

“But we’re out of town. Bend the rules.” Link continues trying to persuade more time with her, “No, it’s not a rule, so much as the basic tenet of this relationship.” she states, walking toward the door, “Which is that it’s not a relationship?”

“Right. No complications.” she turns, picking up more of her discarded clothes “My life is already full of them.”

“But it’s not that complicated. We have adjoining rooms. They’re practically the same.” This wasn't the kind of relationship where he could outright tell her that he didn't want her to leave and that he wanted to spend the night with her.

“And yet, they are not.” Amelia turns and walks through the door into her room before smiling at him and closing it.

“I feel used!” Link yells after her “Objectified! Hungry!”

Amelia opens the door again, peaking her head through “Okay. What will it take for you to let me go to sleep tonight, guilt free?”

“Pizza for breakfast.” he smirks, “Deal.”

He smirks as she watches her disappear into her room again, closing the door behind her. He was gonna get her. He wasn't sure how yet but, he wanted her and only her. He was gonna get her.

#amelink #amelink fanfic #amelinkfics #amelink smut #amelia shepherd #atticus lincoln #atticus link #amelia and link #link and amelia #Amelia Shepherd and Atticus Lincoln #greys #greys anatomy

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dreaminginthedeepsouth · 3 years

Link

BY ANITA SIRCARAUG. 17, 2021 9:28 AM PT

My patient sat at the edge of his bed gasping for air while he tried to tell me his story, pausing to catch his breath after each word. The plastic tubes delivering oxygen through his nose hardly seemed adequate to stop his chest from heaving. He looked exhausted.

He had tested positive for the coronavirus 10 days ago. He was under 50, mildly hypertensive but otherwise in good health. Eight days earlier he started coughing and having severe fatigue. His doctor started him on antibiotics. It did not work.

Fearing his symptoms were worsening, he started taking some hydroxychloroquine he had found on the internet. It did not work.

He was now experiencing shortness of breath while doing routine daily activities such as walking from his bedroom to the bathroom or putting on his shoes. He was a shell of his former self. He eventually made his way to a facility where he could receive monoclonal antibodies, a lab-produced transfusion that substitutes for the body’s own antibodies. It did not work.

He finally ended up in the ER with dangerously low oxygen levels, exceedingly high inflammatory markers and patchy areas of infection all over his lungs. Nothing had helped. He was getting worse. He could not breathe. His wife and two young children were at home, all infected with COVID. He and his wife had decided not to get vaccinated.

Last year, a case like this would have flattened me. I would have wrestled with the sadness and how unfair life was. Battled with the angst of how unlucky he was. This year, I struggled to find sympathy. It was August 2021, not 2020. The vaccine had been widely available for months in the U.S., free to anyone who wanted it, even offered in drugstores and supermarkets. Cutting-edge, revolutionary, mind-blowing, lifesaving vaccines were available where people shopped for groceries, and they still didn’t want them.

Outside his hospital door, I took a deep breath — battening down my anger and frustration — and went in. I had been working the COVID units for 17 months straight, all day, every day. I had cared for hundreds of COVID patients. We all had, without being able to take breaks long enough to help us recover from this unending ordeal. Compassion fatigue was setting in. For those of us who hadn’t left after the hardest year of our professional lives, even hope was now in short supply.

Shouting through my N95 mask and the noise of the HEPA filter, I introduced myself. I calmly asked him why he decided not to get vaccinated.

“Well, I’m not an anti-vaxxer or anything. I was just waiting for the FDA to approve the vaccine first. I didn’t want to take anything experimental. I didn’t want to be the government’s guinea pig, and I don’t trust that it’s safe,” he said.

“Well,” I said, “I can pretty much guarantee we would have never met had you gotten vaccinated because you would have never been hospitalized. All of our COVID units are full and every single patient in them is unvaccinated. Numbers don’t lie. The vaccines work.”

This was a common excuse people gave for not getting vaccinated, fearing the vaccine because the Food and Drug Administration had only granted it emergency-use authorization so far, not permanent approval. Yet the treatments he had turned to, antibiotics, monoclonal antibodies and hydroxychloroquine were considered experimental, with mixed evidence to support their use.

The only proven lifesaver we��ve had in this pandemic is a vaccine that many people don’t want. A vaccine we give away to other countries because supply overwhelms demand in the U.S. A vaccine people in other countries stand in line for hours to receive, if they can get it at all.

“Well,” I said, “I am going to treat you with, remdesivir, which only recently received FDA approval.” I explained that it had been under an EUA for most of last year and had not been studied or administered as widely as COVID-19 vaccines. That more than 353 million doses of COVID-19 vaccine had been administered in the U.S. along with more than 4.7 billion doses worldwide without any overwhelming, catastrophic side effects. “Not nearly as many doses of remdesivir have been given or studied in people and its long-term side effects are still unknown,” I said. “Do you still want me to give it to you?”

“Yes” he responded, “Whatever it takes to save my life.”

It did not work.

My patient died nine days later from a fatal stroke. We, the care team, reconciled this loss by telling ourselves: He made a personal choice not to get vaccinated, not to protect himself or his family. We did everything we could with what we had to save him. This year, this tragedy, this unnecessary, entirely preventable loss, was on him.

The burden of this pandemic now rests on the shoulders of the unvaccinated. On those who are eligible to get vaccinated, but choose not to, a decision they defend by declaring, “vaccination is a deeply personal choice.” But perhaps never in history has anyone’s personal choice impacted the world as a whole as it does right now. When hundreds and thousands of people continue to die, when the most vulnerable members of society, our children, cannot be vaccinated — the luxury of choice ceases to exist.

If you believe the pandemic is almost over and you can ride it out, without getting vaccinated, you could not be more wrong. This virus will find you.

If you believe I’ll just wait until the FDA approves the vaccine first, you may not live to see the day.

If you believe if I get infected I’ll just go to the hospital and get treated, there is no guarantee we can save your life, nor even a promise we’ll have a bed for you.

If you believe I’m pregnant and I don’t want the vaccine to affect me, my baby or my future fertility, it matters little if you’re not alive to see your newborn.

If you believe I won’t get my children vaccinated because I don’t know what the long-term effects will be, it matters little if they don’t live long enough for you to find out.

If you believe I’ll just let everyone else get vaccinated around me so I don’t have to, there are 93 million eligible, unvaccinated people in the “herd” who think the same way you do and are getting in the way of ending this pandemic.

If you believe vaccinated people are getting infected anyway so what’s the point?, the vaccine was built to prevent hospitalizations and deaths from severe illness. Instead of fatal pneumonia, those with breakthrough infections have a short, bad cold, so the vaccine has already proved itself. The vaccinated are not dying from COVID-19.

SARS-CoV-2, the virus that causes COVID-19, has mutated countless times during this pandemic, adapting to survive. Stacked up against a human race that has resisted change every step of the way — including wearing masks, social distancing, quarantining and now refusing lifesaving vaccines — it is easy to see who will win this war if human behavior fails to change quickly.

The most effective thing you can do to protect yourself, your loved ones and the world, is to GET VACCINATED.

And it will work.

Anita Sircar is an infectious disease physician and clinical instructor of health sciences at the UCLA School of Medicine.

#op-ed #Anita Sircar #vaccination #global pandemic #COVID-19 #LA Times #the plague #get vaccinated #science #medicine

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teamsam · 3 years

Text

The trickster that had to die

If you don’t want to live in this world anymore

Hold on to your friendships bit tighter

And by their side, you, I promise

Will think of your demise no more

And when you’ve decided to end it

Your loved ones love harder, I say

If you come to love them, love truly

You won’t wreck yourself right away

“Men’s tears” by Neschastny Sluchai / "Unfortunate accident"

Thinking about 13x21 ending for a long time, you can understand why Gabriel’s death was... if not justified, then, in its own way, fitting and expected.

* * *

First things first: who exactly came back to us after going at Lucifer with a blade in hand and after supposedly kicking the bucket? Was is Gabriel really? Or just a semblance of him, a voiceless creature, tortured to the extreme, that fears touch and flinches from a mere mention of grace? Pretty sure it was the latter. We know that much.

But do we understand what exactly has changed over these seven years and has continued to change after his escape? What was left in Gabriel then, and what was forever gone? What had he truly had – even before Loki and hell happened?

The identity-less persona

The most obvious change is, without a doubt, post-hell Gabriel having little to no grace. And completely lacking the ability to satisfy his every whim in a snap. There weren’t only his powers that he’d lost, but his freedom and independence too: which, as we know, meant to him a great deal. Being able to make his own decisions, to shape his own destiny, to avoid dealing with things he disagreed with – weren’t those the reasons he left Heaven may centuries ago? Wasn’t it his grace that allowed him to make his aspirations real by swapping faces with Loki?

For his entire life grace and archangel powers have been his guarantee of being fine – with them, he can go to the other side of the world, away from an observant hunter or some other threat in a snap. Just a snap – and he’s in the company of a /fake/ but very beautiful girl, ready to provide a detailed proof of just how awesome he is. A snap – and a perverted professor falls out the window and Gabriel gets a reason to be proud of himself for punishing evil once again.

After many centuries of being a Trickster Gabriel had literally built his identity and self-esteem around the things he can do. Performing miracles. Restoring the justice in the world. Enchanting and impressing hot ladies (the real ones – by his exceptionality, the fake ones – by the mere fact of his existence). That’s what allows him to smugly hit Dean’s shoulder and joke that he doesn’t see the wooden stick in his hand – the knowledge that it’s no threat to him anyway and that he can handle two dumbass hunters if he has to.

He’s a trickster with a power of an archangel: it’s basically a never-ending Vegas with bottomless wallet. And it’s been this way for a thousands of years. No wonder it goes into his head.

So who does he become when he’s been literally robbed? When Fenrir rips his shirt in the fight (he wouldn’t even get the chance to get close before!), when the portal in pretty telling manner closes in front of his eyes, all but turning into a mocking «dweeb»? Who is he, if not a powerless cripple that can’t even land without falling onto Cas’ legs?

(I still dislike this scene. Brrr)

Let’s not dig into the details of how have his trauma and torture added to his loss of identity. One thing clear: they definitely have.

The pointing that has no point

So, free from his captivity, Gabriel has no idea who he is.

Not a Trickster anymore: he’s cut off from his past as Loki, because his pagan friend-slash-enemy he perceives only as a reminder of how he trusted the wrong person and then went to hell. It’s unlikely that Gabriel’s comfortable with having spent centuries with a face of a guy who doomed him to torment.

Not yet an archangel: he’s cut off from his past as Gabriel, but that’s more of an old, scarred break than it is a fresh reason to get lost in himself. That was the most fateful decision he has ever made – to resign from his heavenly duties and leave his brothers’ quarrels behind. He hasn’t been an angel for a long, long time, so he can easily brush off Cas’ words about his responsibility for “his father’s creations”. Gabriel is used to believing that he doesn’t owe anything to anyone just because of his archangel status: not to God, not to people, not to his brothers, not even to the Winchesters. Have to emphasize: just because of the status. I’ll tell why he still went to the Other World and why was he defending humanity in front of Lucifer a bit later.

He just can’t consider his future at the moment: he’s thrown from hell to the bunker, from the bunker to Loki, then at the search for Lucifer and finally to the Oher World. I, personally, not only wouldn’t be able to sketch out my five-year plan, but brushing my teeth would consider a victory! So he’s not yet worried about what he would do when (and if) the Michael problem gets resolved. There’s no time, no time!..

I think he wouldn’t continue with the pranks. But also don’t think he’s just go back to Heaven. The path he’d choose could only be shown in time, but that’s the luxury Gabriel simply didn’t have.

And there is a mess in his present too: everyone suddenly wants something from him, and Gabriel has to get distracted to reply to them instead of taking a minute and thinking about himself. What does he feel? What does he want? How should he behave, after all: no one’s going to believe in the “righteous archangel” persona should he put it on, least of all himself. And he just can’t be Loki anymore.

The absence of his old self is not noticed by Gabriel right away: remember what I’ve said about his powers? And enchanting and impressing? The old Gabriel in no time would have figured a way to snatch half an hour of pleasure with Rowena. And this one doesn’t even comprehend what she wants from him: honestly, you’d have to be a complete loggerhead to miss these signals. And he’s just standing there, processing...

Sex is an old good way of making himself feel better that used to work before. To make sure of your significance and overall coolness. But now, after all these painful events, it’s “too little too late”.

So even though the eternal questions of “Who am I? What’s my place in this world?” are not at the top of Gabriel’s list, they are still present. He just doesn’t have time to get to them, even though he feels how old and familiar view of himself is crumbling down. And that the old idea of his life turns out to be meaningless and empty: he’s not good even for a Trickster, let alone an archangel.

Or maybe it was the contrary: he has just now found himself, and stripped down of his masks, he learns that he’s just not familiar with his true self.

[end of part 1]

Whole thing

#supernatural #spn meta #meta #gabriel #gabriel the archangel #sabriel #character study

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glitteraffe-art · 3 years

Text

@sanguith first of all, THANK YOU THANK YOU THANKYOU FOR THE FEEDBACK! I’m a biomedical engineering student (engineering for medical devices), so most of my information for my MIP headcanons comes from ‘reading free online nursing textbooks at 11PM’ haha, so I’m glad to see actual feedback (and a video! I actually never even THOUGHT to look up videos as a source… ) from someone with real-life experience!

Onto the questions:

How is the needle+catheter placed inside the suit? / What happens to this discarded needle? It would need to be removed and thrown away somehow, and safely.

Presumably, the placing of the catheter & discarding of the needle would be done by a person (likely a trained staff member of Black Mesa in the case of the Mark IV), not by the suit itself.

This would be done prior to putting on the LCVG layer of the HEV (i.e., while the user is just wearing their undergarments). The LCVG and the Mechanical Compression Suit would probably have specialized splits/openings allowing for the tube to be passed through while minimizing lost cooling- and compression- coverage area.

How is the pump-tube connected to the PVC after the original insertion-needle is removed?

In my version of the HEV suit, I think that the MIP’s tubes would be attachable & removable from the main body of the suit (since being able to remove them would make it easier to put in a sterile tube for every use). The MIP itself would be accessible by opening up the back of the HEV torso armor (Haven’t decided where the opening/closing parts would be, but just based on the torso armor’s dimensions it would need to be able to come apart somewhere to be able to wear it at all.)

In order to connect the PVC to the pump’s tube, I think the pump’s tube would be replaceable for every use and would likely have a specially made sterile packaging that allows it to be put in as sterile-ly as possible. (Something like “just like the normal packaging that standard IV tubing comes in, but packaged so that the tube is straight, not coiled, and it can open at both ends”).

The steps to connect the pump-tube to the PVC would kind of be somewhere between ‘connecting to an IV’ and ‘replacing a cartridge on an insulin pump’. It would be like this, very roughly (didn’t put in every Use Hand Sanitizer/similar steps):

(Person doing this procedure is assisting the person who will be wearing the HEV; the wearer has had the PVC placed and is wearing the LCVG and Mechanical Compression suits. The PVC is threaded through the suits in such a way that its cap is free & not stuck under the layers)

(The HEV opens up at the torso and at the forearm areas when wearing—haven’t quite decided exactly How but it opens in those places)

Open up PUMP end of sterile tube packaging (careful not to open up the wrong end or all the way)

Attach sterile saline cartridge to PUMP end of tube

Place & lock cartridge + tube into the MIP on the back of the opened up HEV armor

Align & lock tubing into attachment areas on the inside of the armor up to a certain point (ensures it doesn’t get loose during movement)* , allowing some tube closer to the CATHETER end (which is still enclosed in its sterile packaging) to be loose for ease of maneuvering about

Put on armor except for the left-hand forearm armor/sleeve (left arm/hand still Unarmored)

Open up CATHETER end of sterile tube packaging, hold this end of the tube as the HEV internal computer instructs the MIP to flush the tubing with the saline (gets rid of air bubbles; saline will travel down the tubing. May need to catch drips from the other end, though)

Sanitize PVC’s cap with alcohol wipe & flush with saline from a syringe

Attach CATHETER end of tube to PVC

Align & lock remaining length of tube in place into the inside of the HEV armor as it is put onto the left arm (very carefully…)

(Admittedly this is a pretty rough answer)

*Kinda embarrassed to say I don’t have a 100% good answer for how the pump tube would be embedded/attached to the inside of the HEV, though.

I never got around to thinking too deeply about HOW they would be connected to the suit in such a way to be removable, since I wasn’t satisfied with any of the ideas I came up with, so ‘exactly where the needle and catheter are in the suit layers’ never made it to the final Anatomy of a HEV Suit 2.5. The only really finalized idea I came up with is that “the tubes are under the radiation-shielding layer but above the Mechanical Compression Suit” (since it would be bad to have the drugs be exposed to radiation, but also bad to compress the tubes)

Some examples of ideas I had:

Velcro or a Slipcover: fine for the accordion-like parts, but would squish the tube between the wearer and the armor, resulting in impaired flow

Recess into the radiation liner with Velcro or snap system: bad since that removes most of the protective liner from the tube area

A recess in the armor with Velcro or snap system: worried that would eat into structural integrity

Another idea—a raised/stiffened sheath underneath the radiation-shielding layer where the tube can fit in: again, squishes against the wearer, so probably irritating to wearer. Still not great.

Plastic U-shaped snaps that tubes can be attached into (cant remember what they are called): prone to breaking off, again irritates/pokes into wearer

Sorry for not having a definite answer there! Maybe I’ll have a strike of inspiration (or find a similar device from which I can draw inspiration, which is what I’ve mostly done) and figure out a better way to attach the MIP to the HEV in a month or three…

How is the catheter tube guaranteed to stay perfectly inside the vein when the user moves around, as well as minimizing the risk of blood loss or infection?

This was one of the fictional concessions that I made that made it into the final post. It’s straight-up not guaranteed to stay perfectly inside the vein as the user moves, but I figured, with so much of the HEV being only plausible with fictional materials, a fictional tape sticker that stays on & makes sure the needle doesn’t move at all even during extreme movement would be the least of my concerns with the build. (That clear sticker is called a sticker? I had no idea! I just assume all sticky things can be called a variant of a tape…my bad for not looking it up!)

A very plausible alternative to a peripheral IV-cannula could be a central venous catheter.

I actually did consider a central venous catheter, but I chickened out, haha! The mantra of engineering a medical device is “if it can be done in a less invasive way, do it in a less invasive way” With that in mind, I went with the peripheral venous catheter instead of the central venous catheter, despite the whole host of issues that come along with it (which you articulated very nicely!). Anyways I 100% endorse the idea of using a central venous catheter for the MIP instead of peripheral!

#courts talks #anatomy of a hev suit #cw needles #cw drugs #cw injections #thank you for the feedback!#sorry for any errors ive been staring ata screen all day #long post

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theramseyloft · 4 years

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Hello! I was wondering what sort of requirements pigeons would have and the whole breeds thing. (Sorry long ask) How much room would a pidge need? Like cage size and also, how would one go about excersizing them? Do you reccomend letting them fly free for the day and come back at night? Would they possibly get hurt or catch a disease/parasites out there? Are they expensive to keep? And what breeds are the most friendly/affectionate? Thank you :) 1/2

You know how some dogs have been bred to look nice but have a multitude of health problems (ie pug, chihuahua, great dane ,dachshund ect) does that happen in pigeons too? And if so, how does one know which might be genetically predisposed to getting problems later on or just generally wont have the best quality of life? 2/2

Whuf!

These are really broad questions. I’ll have to break them down and answer ne at a time, so I apologize in advance for the length of time it will take me to get this ask out.

“How much room would a pidge need? Like cage size...”

Pigeon breeds range in size from the tiny Valencian Figurita and Portuguese tumblers (vying constantly to be the worlds smallest breed) to the literally chicken sized Giant Runt.

So the amount of space required depends on the breed’s size and energy level.

Homers are about the average.

Here is an old picture from before the loft’s redesign of two of my breeding pair in their pens.

These are labrador sized dog crates, outfitted with a rabbit’s corner litter pan as a nest box and a garden stake cut to length as a perch.

Pigeons need flat perches because they are cliff nesters. Round ones like branches or dowels hurt their feet.

If yours is going to be a house pet, the cage should be what a crate is for dogs: A safe place to sleep or wait for you to get home until it learns the house rules.

Pigeons are intensely social birds that are happiest with the freedom of motion to come see you when they want, and go occupy themselves when they don’t want company.

The nice thing about pigeons is that they don;t need to be all over you all the time. They are independent enough to go do their own thing, but want to be able to come check on or spend time with you.

Which dovetails nicely into your next question: “how would one go about exercising them?”

A pigeon allowed to free range indoors will exercise themself plenty.

If you cannot let them free range the entire house, letting them out in your bedroom while you are home will be fine for most breeds.

“Do you reccomend letting them fly free for the day and come back at night?”

Absolutely not!

“Would they possibly get hurt or catch a disease/parasites out there?”

That possibly could be turned all the way up to a guarantee.

Performance breeds like racers, rollers, and tumblers are over bred to make up for the losses during training flights from inclement weather getting a bird lost, hawks snatching them out of the air, and diseases picked up from wild birds and brought back.

“Are they expensive to keep?”

After the initial cost for set up and the vet check to make sure they don’t have parasites and aren’t ill, the upkeep for a few is shockingly cheap.

You can get a lab sized kennel for $50-70. If you want an even bigger space, Great Dane kennels are about $80.

You can buy a wooden garden stake from pretty much any hardware store for about $5.

The bunny corner box is not required if you aren’t breeding. Pigeons will just as happily use a dollar store dog bowl to nest in.

My vet bill for a new bird is $70: $35 for the exotics wellness exam, $20 for a throat swab, and $15 for a fecal test.

I expected feral and lost birds to have lice, worms, parasites, and infections, but was floored when every single show bird I ever purchased from breeders did too!

You’re better off in the long run assuming something needs to be healed, cleaned out, or cleared up and just finding out from the vet as soon as they get there what needs treating.

Clear it out then, and an inside bird is pretty well set.

You can buy 50lbs of feed for $20 at Tractor supply.

And 50lbs of calcium supplements for $11.

I have 36 pigeons and 2 ringneck doves right now, so 50lbs lasts me a little over a week.

But a single bird will eat off of that for over half a year.

“And what breeds are the most friendly/affectionate?”

Most of the Exhibition breeds are pretty friendly, but from most to least kennel space, here are the ones I have enjoyed the most hands on:

Utility kings

These are the size of chickens and will need a LOT of flight time.

They are a meat breed, so they are genetically predisposed to docility, but also obesity.

They do best free roaming the house full time. It’s really hard to find a cage big enough to comfortably accommodate them.

Giant Homers

Utility kings are a squabbing breed, designed for constant production of big squabs, so they are more bird-shaped than the Giant Homer, which was bred to be eaten as an adult, and then for the aesthetic of a fat round bird.

Like the Utility King, Giant Homers are known for their mellow, gentle temperaments. But after having worked with them for a few years, it seems mostly to be that they are simply too big and heavy to evade effectively, and they know it.

Along with being prone to obesity, their sheer weight puts tremendous pressure on their feet and they can develop huge, painful calluses.

I like my mixes better than their purebred parents, because they inherited the temperament with out the bulk that causes painful or dangerous health issues.

Lahore

Named for the city in Pakistan where they were developed, the Lahore is a huge, gorgeous bird.

Their wing span more then the size of their actual body makes them difficult to cage, so it’s best they have the run of at least a bedroom.

these are laid back and mellow, but not exactly touch me birds. If one gets on your shoulder or in your lap, feel honored.

Frillbacks

For the same reason as the Lahore, Frillbacks can be difficult to pen indoors.

An individual can be happy in a Great Dane sized kennel, but frankly won’t fit comfortably into anything smaller.

These are very laid back, not especially flighty, and quite friendly. Young birds are very much cuddle bugs, and the individual pictured still comes up to me to nurse between my fingers.

No known associated health issues, but individuals with especially long muffs can stay especially still because the shaft of the feather under the skin of their feet is bigger around than the bones of their toes, making walking painful.

Show standards require large muffs, so it can be hard to find them with muffs like Bean’s here.

There is one breeder that raises hers with short muffs and entirely clean legged. I’ll be happy to link you.

Voorburg Shield Cropper

These leggy, slender birds are a pain to house because of their height, but the only breed I know of with points taken off in the show standard if they are not friendly enough to try to court the judges.

This sweet flamboyant temperament makes them an absolute delight to work with!

These are the first on the list with no known health issues associated with the breed.

Show Type Racing homer

This is an elegant exhibition breed, easy to house in the example set up we discussed at the beginning of the ask.

They are bulkier than racing homers or flying type show homers, VERY tightly feathered.

This is a wonderfully sweet tempered breed that tends not to be especially flighty.

Some of that is due to the sheer bulk of its musculature, but most of it does genuinely seem to be temperament.

Old Dutch Capuchine

These have a reputation for being docile, but I have found them to be quite flighty.

Mixes incorporating this breed, though, tend to be quite bold and out going.

Racing Homer

This is the most commonly available pigeon breed.

Bred for endurance racing, this is a very high energy bird that needs a LOT of time out of the pen to fly.

They have the strongest immune system and highest intelligence of any of the pure breeds.

though some individuals can be hair-trigger flighty, this breed is keenly intelligent and highly curious, and those individuals can learn to overcome their flightiness if their handler can learn to be aware enough of their comfort levels not to startle them with too-quick motion.

Lucerne Peak Crest

Named, like the Lahore, after the city in Switzerland where the breed was developed.

The Lucerne is an extremely temperature hardy breed.

It’s among what are called the Owl Breeds; small, compact breeds with short to mid length beaks, round faces, and large, round eyes.

Most of the owl breeds are mellow and sweet tempered, boldly curious, and not generally prone to be flighty.

Their beaks being a little short makes their nasal slit narrow and the opening to their sinuses wide, so small seeds like Millet can get stuck in the nasal cavity of some individuals.

Classic Old Frill

Oh, this is my favorite purebred.

The total pidge package: Small, friendly, shockingly beautiful, devoted parents.

There is absolutely everything to love about this wonderful cuddle bug breed.

Nun

These are a gorgeous breed, often described as being friendly because they are not smart enough to be wary.

They are unspeakably awful parents, prone to literally treating their eggs like an especially large, uncomfortable poop.

Old German Owl

Another absolute delight of a charming little Owl breed.

These are as stubborn as they are sweet tempered, which can make them a really fun challenge to train.

These are cuddle bugs, for the most part.

Chinese Owl

These are tiny little clouds that range from intensely curious and strongly treat motivated to absolute refusal to have anything to do with anything even remotely human shaped with very little in between.

Small and easy to house.

Portuguese Tumbler

This is a tiny bird, not much taller than a conure.

They are bred purely for aerial performance, so this is a SUPER high energy breed that, like the racing homer, needs a LOT of out time.

They are very bold in their friendliness, eager to check up on you and steal a cheek-smooch before zooming off to resume doing their own thing.

Unfortunately, their breed standard requires their back toe not to touch the ground. They go on tippy toes when they are happy, excited, or relaxed, which makes something like a human hand or shoulder physically difficult to balance on, and there for uncomfortable to stand on.

So trying to pet one throws their balance and stresses them severely.

Mixes with stronger feet are thrilled to have the affectionate attention of human flock mates.

Valencian Figurita

The tiniest owl breed, currently just barely winning out over the Portuguese tumbler.

It’s known for its trapezoidal head shape and upright stance.

This is a bold, plucky little bird that in my experience loves shoulders. ^v^

They are bred a little too small, though, tending to only lay one egg to a clutch, with many dying in the shell with out space for the peep to develop.

Their hatchlings are often given to ringneck doves to foster.

“You know how some dogs have been bred to look nice but have a multitude of health problems (ie pug, chihuahua, great dane ,dachshund ect) does that happen in pigeons too?”

Oh, god, you would not believe the number of pigeon breeds that aren’t even bird shaped!

There are nearly twice as many severely distorted breeds as fit, bird shaped ones.

Check the Modern art Pigeons tag.

“And if so, how does one know which might be genetically predisposed to getting problems later on or just generally wont have the best quality of life?”

Pippin is a feral pigeon.

This is about the closest you can get to the base line natural shape of the species Columba livia.

The more pigeon-shaped the breed, the better.

Ferals are, genetically, a blend of the homers, rollers, and tumblers that survived getting lost on training tosses or during performances.

Here is Wilson, another purebred Racing homer.

Because this breed is designed to fly marathons literally hundreds of miles, it’s a lot more compact and muscular than Ferals and genuinely wild Rock Doves, who only need to fly as far as it takes to find enough to eat in a day.

The farther off this base line you go, the less physically fit the breed.

The American Fantail is an especially heinous train wreck.

Its chest is out thrust over its head, its neck curves parallel to its spine, and its head is propped up by its own tail feathers.

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This pitiful creature is not just displaying.

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Their skeleton is permanently stuck in that shape.

Parlor rollers are bred with a combination of neuromuscular defects that throw their balance when ever they flap their wings, sending them into a panic as they flail to right themselves.

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Parlor Tumblers have a less severe version of the same group of deformities:

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We talked about the Old dutch Capuchine above.

Jacobins are the extreme “modern” version of the ODC.

You could trim their feathers to clear their field of vision

But their very long necks tend to collapse into their shoulders with age.

The male Barb’s huge, wrinkled wattle and ceres block off their nasal passages and deform the eyelids so that they may not be able to fully close.

Cocks usually go blind with in three years, but that doesn’t matter to their breeders because their peak show and reproductive performance is between their first and second year of age.

The Short Faced Budapest’s show standard requires its eyes to telescope as much as possible.

Its eyes are literally bigger than its skull, and don;t fit in their sockets.

The eye lid is all that holds them in.

And some can’t fully close their eyes.

This is the Oriental Frill, also called the Modern Frill.

they have literally no beak.

Turbits have a longer head, but a nearly inverted beak.

These birds can;t feed their own young, and struggle to preen themselves.

Aaaand here is the Egyptian Moraslat

This is a very typical attitude among breeders of these birds with extreme body shapes.

I also have a series on weird, but physically sound breeds, and would be happy to go more into those in another ask.

#tw: animal cruelty

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write-a-bad-romance · 4 years

Text

Holy Woman (Ikevamp Angst Week 2020)

Ao3 link: Here

Prompt: “Character Death” and “Loss”

Words: 2761

Made for Ikevamp Angst Week Day 8 and 9. Tagging @ikevampangstweek.

This work features mild spoilers for Jean’s route and a genderbent (female) version of Jean d’Arc.

dulce et decorum est pro patria mori

In the dark of the night, she ran amidst the clamor of gunshots and shouts far behind her. The blizzard became her cover —she was deaf to the entire world save for the ominous howling of the wind right beside her ears.

Her long silken hair, free from its bindings, trailed like spun silk as she bounded across the snow. With nothing to guide her, not even the hand of God Himself, she escaped into the wasteland.

Like a specter she vanished, abandoning her crown and a condemned history behind her.

"Drat!" Charles cursed, shaking his head as the horse finally breathed its last.

And when I'm so close to the town too! This can't be happening! Last night's blizzard was horrendous; he had to take shelter at the dilapidated empty house, horse and cart, and all. Delivering every crate containing vials of serum in tip-top shape had been his objective.

But there was little he could hope for, not when he had a horse with a broken leg.

"No, no, no." Tears pricked in the corner of his eyes. Years carrying corpses and dying men back and forth on the battlefield made him immune to the sight of mortality. But the combination of fatigue after days on the road and lack of sleep was more than enough to break his already dwindling spirits.

"No," he repeated, slapping himself on both cheeks. "This won't do. Think of the townspeople. They're waiting."

With heavy steps and an even heavier heart, Charles sat by the side of the road. It would take at least five hours to reach his destination on foot. Gears turned inside his exhausted head as he devised a plan: hide the crates inside the house, walk along the road, and see if there are any houses nearby. Walk up to their door, knock, smile and ask them if you can borrow their cart —

And risk leaving the crates unsupervised. Right. No one would have the mind to somehow spirit away crates full of vials of dubious substance, but Charles dreaded losing his precious cargo if that meant another three days' ride to the Medical Center.

What a conundrum! Charles's idle hand grabbed fistfuls of snow, feeling the raw chill bite into his skin. The sensation helped alleviate his fidgety nerves.

Besides, there's no guarantee I'm not going to get caught in another blizzard when running around seeking help. The rose-haired man sighed, scratching at the memento wound around his neck. What should I do now? Stay put and pray for a miracle to come my way?

Back at the battlefield, in the flapping tents where prayers die on the mouth of soldiers reaching to grasp at specters of their beloved, Charles lost his faith in the Almighty. H is more cynical colleagues joked that God had been replaced by the emperor, his enemy monarchs, and whatever whims they impose on us poor, downtrodden common folk.

It wasn't until his mother pestered him that Charles once again re-adopted a habit of praying. Ironic, considering his mother's pragmatism towards their soiled family business. War was capable of moving the smallest of things, it seemed.

Charles realized he had been dozing when he felt something approach. The tremor he felt underneath his feet signaled that it was another cart, most likely heavy duty. The young doctor jumped to his feet, regretting it immediately as he felt himself swoon and nearly losing his balance.

"Excuse me!" He waved at the cart, a figure clad in a dark blue cloak from head to toe at the reins. "Are you in any way passing through the next town?" Charles yelled.

The stranger stopped his cart right in front of Charles, silent. Worried he didn't hear him the first time, Charles composed himself and cleared his throat.

"Will you, by any chance, be passing through the town? The one with a mountain abbey?" He pronounced his words carefully, his heart beating in trepidation as the veiled stranger didn't seem to respond. He could wait for another cart to pass by but damn if he let this chance slip.

The figure nodded, and a deep-toned, feminine voice reverberated through the crisp, winter air.

"I am heading to that town." The woman answered severely. "How may I be of service?"

Charles was perplexed by her manner of speech but approached her nonetheless. "My apologies. I was transporting some cargo on my own cart when the blizzard came, and I had to take shelter in that empty house over there."

The cloaked woman regarded him in silence as Charles struggled to resume his explanation. Did she find him suspicious? Was she to be suspected, herself? Countless scenarios rushed through Charles' restless mind as he motioned vaguely at the dilapidated building.

"And then my horse broke one of its ankles—"

“Your horse?”

Charles was ready to receive whatever tirade the woman was prepared to discharge, judging from her pressing tone. But to his surprise, the woman was already jumping off her cart, the wind knocking back her veil.

Revealing a burn scar mark in the shape of a spark over her right eye, concealed in part by her thick, lavender bangs. It extended across the side of her face and neck, disappearing underneath her collar. Her left eye was hidden under a black eyepatch, revealing a scarce expanse of alabaster skin.

Charles' face grew red as he realized that he was staring. Her dark, empty orb seemed to suggest that she too had noticed. Quickly, Charles apologized.

"Forgive me, I didn't mean to stare—" but the woman had already turned towards the house.

"Show me the horse," she commanded.

Swallowing his guilt away, Charles brushed invisible snow off his pants and followed suit. "Right," he coughed. "This way, Madame."

"So, you've met Sister Joanna." Monsieur Faust concluded. He was the town's only doctor, a strapping young man in his late twenties. He had on him shapely, robust shoulders and intelligent eyes behind a pair of square, thin-framed glasses.

The only aspect Charles found disconcerting about his temporary senior was his penchant for sardonic, offhand remarks that seemed to serve as a barrier between him and the vernacular crowd.

"Sister?" Charles exclaimed, having signed the last of the transport papers. "Is she part of the convent?"

"No, not at all." Faust chuckled. "In fact, I believe it's been years since anybody's ever seen her inside the church or taking part in any religious gathering."

Charles recalled how the lean woman helped him move the dead horse out of the barn and buried the horse by a nearby tree. He was still amazed by the woman's astounding demonstration of strength as she loaded the bulky crates onto her own cart.

"It was the nuns who called her that during her stay at the abbey. The nickname carried long after she left," The older man continued. "I was the doctor who treated her when she first arrived a year ago."

Those burn scars, Charles gulped, amethyst eyes still boring into his own long after their parting. "What does she do now?"

"She's the town's handywoman, for lack of a better word." Faust's nimble hands arranged the vials into neat rows inside a cabinet. "She accepts odd jobs every now and then, though you're more likely to see her at the weapons shop by the square. She seemed to have lived quite close to the military at some point."

The man's curious pause before rolling the word military didn't escape Charles. Whether it was said out of genuine disdain for their country's warmongering exploits or twisted sympathy for his own history, he didn't know.

"Other times, especially outside winter, you can find her attending to flower beds just outside of town," Faust muttered. "She would bring back different-colored flowers in vases and deliver them to the flower shop. You'll see what I mean quite soon."

"Flowers? The military?" Charles was at a loss for words as the man slew exposition after exposition in rapid succession. And he had pegged him to be the quiet sort! "I take it she must have been living quite illustriously before she came to town."

"That she is," The other man nodded. "Quite the character, isn't she? Sister Joanna does what she likes, regardless of what others see."

Charles decided to take a stroll after lunch. Now that he's done resting and arranging his belongings at the inn, it was time to explore the rustic town.

The innkeeper was an amiable man with ivory hair and crimson eyes, not much older than Faust. The flower shop the doctor mentioned was adjacent to the inn's lobby, and the owner of both establishments introduced himself as Vlad. Not Vladimir, not Vladislav, just Vlad.

Charles detected something beyond mere eccentricity beneath the man's lighthearted disposition. There was a noble air to him that made Charles suspect Vlad was related to one of the hussar princes the Continental army overthrew seven years ago.

The man responded to Charles' prodding joke with a subtly accented, good-humored reply. "I hail from Targoviste! But now that you mention it, my family is descended from a long line of voivodes from the Middle Ages . "

Charles decided not to pry further lest he be turned to fertilizer for the pansies at the inn's backyard.

His feet took him to the town square, where Sister Joanna's weapons shop supposedly was if he remembered correctly.

In the center was a sizable statue of a peasant woman, her arm cradling a bundle of wheat to her bosom. The other arm was reaching towards the sky, a long strip of sash winding around the limb like a vine. Charles found it so lifelike it could've been fluttering along with the icy wind.

Sister Joanna was standing by the base. Her slacks visible below her dark robes and sinewy stature made it easy to confuse her with a man. Charles walked towards the lone woman, intending to thank her.

“Sister Joanna!” He called excitedly. “Sister Joann—”

Charles fell quiet as he observed the woman pressing her hands firmly pressed together in front of her breast, long fingers pointing towards the statue in silent prayer.

It took a moment before she finally turned to look at Charles. The young man noticed a bundle of freshly picked snowdrops and hellebore resting at the statue's foot.

Charles found himself speechless as he was once again met with Sister Joanna's hollow gaze.

"Yes?" Her dry voice penetrated the once-welcome stillness. "Do you need anything?"

It wasn't that Charles was unaccustomed to make small talk with women. It was Sister Joanna's mannerism that had put the younger man at unease. He collected himself and knelt down, paying heed to spare her some distance.

"I think I should pray, too." He smiled, hoping to reduce the tension. "But I don't have any flowers on me. Too bad."

"Do as you see fit." The woman replied impassively.

Charles' heart regained its composed pace after he offered hushed words of prayer for the souls of his fallen comrades. He rose and beamed at the indomitable woman, whom he caught staring.

Sister Joanna wasn't the least bit unfazed when Charles's youthful face broke into a grin. "Do you know who you're even praying for?"

His eyes returned to inspect the statue, the granite matron towering over the strange couple. "This statue was built in honor of the fallen soldiers and their widows, was it not?"

Sister Joanna didn't respond, seemingly absorbed in the statue's presence as well.

"The Emperor marched through these passes on the way to claim his first victory. Thousands of the men died in the expedition, and they were laid to rest by the abbey."

Charles stepped forward to run his palm over the statue's nameplate.

"The Weeping Widow," He read. "The woman's statue was meant to stand for the widows and lovers of the fallen men, waiting somewhere at the other side of the country. I can't imagine what it feels like to have someone come knocking on your door and tell you that the man you love is dead."

Ignoring Sister Joanna's lack of commentary, Charles continued. "This statue was built with the hopes that no more widows would have to share that fate. That's a beautiful thought."

"How did you come to know all this?" she finally interrupted.

"My uncle took part in the expedition. He lost an arm after the battle and was recuperating in this town when they built the statue." Charles recounted heartily. "It is sweet and proper to die for one's own country, he’d say to his nephews and grandchildren. He kept boasting about wanting to follow his friends to heaven. Or hell."

"It is sweet and fitting to die for the homeland is a more precise translation," The elder corrected. "They keep omitting the following lines:

sed dulcius pro patria vivere,

et dulcissimum pro patria bibere.

Ergo, bibamus pro salute patriae.

'A reasonable translation would be but sweeter still to live for the homeland, and sweetest yet to drink for the homeland. So, let us drink to the health of the homeland." She recited, her sonorous voice unwavering. "Why choose to die at the behest of unconcerned rulers when you can return to a loving home and family?"

Charles was taken aback by the mistress's sudden erudite lecture, almost sharp in its delivery.

"Forgive me," Charles blushed in embarrassment. He'd been correct —Sister Joanna was as enigmatic as her appearance, if not more.

“To die for one's own country. The Emperor's beloved quote." Sister Joanna murmured. "A flowery epigram befitting an equally deranged man."

"I beg your pardon?"

Two years after the Emperor's death, all of the Continent remained in discord after his abdication and subsequent death. There were demands of his generals' execution after they failed to have the ruler beheaded himself.

In some parts of the country, statues in his image were toppled, and his estates were raided. Angry mobs and disillusioned former soldiers banded together to hunt down possible adherents to the old, 'warmongering' regime.

The recalcitrant woman stood tall against the backdrop of a secluded, provincial town hidden among mountains. Maybe there was a truth to Faust's words about her past dealings with the military.

Speak no ill of the dead doesn't apply to warlords and rulers, it seemed. Joanna sighed. "I can't imagine anyone deigning to pray for his poor soul."

His family, Charles dreaded to say. Whatever was left of the royal family were chased to the shores, some immediately captured as they attempted to land in the Isles.

Their encounter had taken quite the morbid turn. Yet it didn't deter Charles from wanting to know more about the woman standing by his side. The young doctor felt small, figuratively and literally, considering his shoulder didn't quite reach hers.

"I should return." Sister Joanna announced. "The sun is setting."

She was heading to the weapons shop, no doubt. Charles nearly forgot his reason for wanting to approach her in the first place.

"Wait!" He called, "I forgot to thank you for your help!"

"What?"

Charles panted as he struggled to match Sister Joanna's pace. Not only does she act like a soldier, she even walks like one!

"I haven't thanked you enough for this morning." He considered extending his hand but refrained, remembering that in proper circumstances, she would be the one extending her hand.

"I don't think I've introduced myself properly, have I? My name is Charles. Charles Henri-Sanson." He flashed her what he thought was his most bedazzling smile. "I might be staying here for the next four months or so,"

Sister Joanna regarded him with mild interest. "I see." She nodded. "Nice to have your acquaintance. I presume the doctor has told you plenty about me, considering you called me by name."

"He did!" Charles answered, not missing a beat. "He told me many things about you."

"Did he, now?"

The pair continued to make their way towards the edge of the square, Charles continuing to engage her with a barrage of questions, and Sister Joanna placating his curiosity with lukewarm zeal.

It didn't take long before they arrived at the entrance to the shop.

Sister Joanna uncovered her cowl and faced Charles. The entirety of her charred visage was now visible, unobscured by the midnight-colored fabric.

"You're a strange man," she observed. "Are you not revolted by the sight of my face?"

"Madame, I used to serve as a doctor until the last days of the war," He chuckled in earnest. "Before I was captured by the Coalition and became a prisoner.”

To be continued in Part 2.’

Special thanks to @batteryrose for her doodles of Jean with burn scars all over his body.

#ikevam jean #ikevam charles #ikevam vlad #ikevam faust #ikevamp angst week #ikevam fanfic #riri tries ikevam

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youllallriseintheink · 3 years

Text

Prison Cell, Chapter 3

Sorry this took so long- it got so long that I had to split it into two parts. Anyhow, from this point forwards, you can expect a lot of violence, so be warned. This chapter will have a lot of interpersonal stuff, and the final chapter will be pretty much entirely action.

---

Sammy unlocked the door. On the other side of it was a demon. The demon. The one that had stolen her blood.

Its body was humanoid and wearing a suit and white bow tie, but its hands were made of ink. The top of its head was covered in black ink, which spiraled up into horns and spilled down its face, leaving only its mustache, mouth and chin visible. Seeing it in the light for the first time, Susie recognized it as the bottom of Joey’s face.

“Joey?” Susie asked, her voice full of wonder and fear.

“Once,” the demon said, and its voice was not Joey Drew’s. It deep, and rough, and horrible. “But I have taken over. Don’t worry- I don’t want this any more than he does. Once I find a way to separate humans from ink, I’ll go back to my dimension and free all of you to yours.” The demon turned and beckoned Susie to follow him. “Come.”

The demon led Susie through the basement, seemingly one large room full of very strange things. Pentagrams littered the floor. Scattered iron cages contained a few emaciated, ink-covered people. Shelves full of sharp tools and unknowable ingredients lined the walls.

“I can still hear him, you know,” the demon mused, taking a syringe and a number of bottles from a shelf, “Joey. His mind. I can see into him. Learn how to manipulate humans. I asked him how to crush your insurrection, and he said that I’d need to destroy your little story.”

The demon led Susie to a door and opened it, and when he did, she lost all her breath.

It was Norman, chained to the far wall. He was wearing the same clothes he had been when he was taken away several weeks ago, but now they were hanging off of him at sharp angles. Susie ran to him, and he cringed away from her. He didn’t want her to see him like this, or to feel how thin and bony he’d gotten.

“What did you do him!?” Susie demanded.

“Nothing beyond the obvious. You see, you thought that some of you could overcome us with physical power. That was your story- that your hope and your resilience would lead to freedom. I needed to show you that rebellion only forces me to take your strength. This isn’t something I wanted to do. Strong, healthy people do better work, and unfortunately Joey’s desire to manage the studio is in me. But... you forced my hand.”

The demon then pulled Susie Campbell up by the collar, pushed her against the wall, and put the syringe to her throat.

“He can’t protect you now,” the demon explained, perfectly calm. “His ability to do so was always under my control, and you made me take it away.”

All Norman could do was bury his head in his hands and listen to her whimper. The chains were too short for him to reach her, and he didn’t stand a chance against the demon anyhow. Not like this. The demon released her blood into one of the bottles, then reinserted the needle, working at an unhurried pace. He repeated the motion several times before letting her go. She fell onto her hands and knees, faint from blood loss.

---

Utterly haunted, Sammy escorted the two sickly individuals back to the music room, carrying with him the two first-aid kits and a message that Joey had written. The second he entered the recording studio, The instruments went silent. A bassist got up from his instrument and tackled Sammy to the ground.

“Okay, someone get these two to the infirmary and look after them,” the bassist ordered, “And Johnny, get the rope. We have a loyalist to hang!”

“Wait!” Sammy cried, “I carry a message from your lord!”

“Can it! You let this happen to them. Why would we listen to your stupid ‘message?’”

Meanwhile, Jack Fain picked up the message from the ground and read it. “Guys! It says if three days go by without incident, they’ll release our prisoners! Let’s not do this. Please.”

The man who’d tackled Sammy got up, snatched the message out of Jack’s hands, and skimmed over it. “Huh. You’re right. Fine. Take him to the elevator and I’ll take this to Abby. Hopefully she’ll actually use it.”

---

Abby read over the letter.

To the upper levels,

A lot of violence has occurred between the upper and lower levels recently, so let me make myself clear: I do not want war, and no matter what level you come from, you should not want loyalists to die. Without our work, you would starve. I’m sorry to have done what I did, but I think you all needed a reminder of what’s coming for you if you keep interfering with our work. I do not wish to have to do this again.

Simply put, be peaceful, do what’s needed of you, and everything will be fine. As a final peace offering, I will release your prisoners three days from now if the rebellion stops entirely.

-Joey Drew

Abby knew the letter was full of lies. That thing wasn’t Joey, and it wasn’t forced to keep them here. She knew that the others knew that, too, and she knew that now that the upper levels had tasted hope, complete compliance would be even more impossible than before. This so-called war was going to happen sooner or later, so she needed to make sure they started at an advantage. She called on Henry to help her make a plan, and called everyone into the recording studio that night to announce it. Thankfully, it seemed to satisfy even the most rebellious of souls.

---

The door to Susie’s room opened, and Abby stepped in. Susie's eyes opened weakly.

“Hey.”

“Sorry you had to miss the meeting tonight. Big things are happening, and I thought I’d let you know about them.”

“Okay,” Susie said.

“So... Joey, or, his demon, rather, has threatened to come down hard on us if there are any more signs of rebellion- and we both know that there will be. He also promised to release our prisoners if there are three days of good behaviour. So, I’ve decided that we’re breaking out the same night that our prisoners are released. The plan is for someone stealthy to go down there in the dead of night, steal the keys, and come back. After that, we’ll leave in groups of seven in order to sneak out of the portal. We’ll do it as quietly as possible, but we’ll also be packing axes and spears made from the knives you brought up. Hopefully there won’t be too many causalities.”

“Why seven?”

“We’re expecting to have ten injured people, and we’re not leaving anyone behind. There are going to be 68 of us in total, assuming that none of the prisoners died, you know, I thought that one per group would have the least chance of really compromising a group’s chances of escape. Plus, smaller groups will be quicker and quieter.”

Susie nodded.

“Oh, and I’m sure you’ll be better by then. And Norman is fine, too, by the way. Well, physically. We looked him over and he doesn’t have any issues aside from the obvious. He won’t talk to any of us. I don’t know what that’s about. Maybe some kind of spell.”

Susie should have felt something in regards to that, but she was honestly too exhausted from the blood loss.

“Alright. I’ll let you rest now- but tomorrow, I’m going to have to ask you about everything you saw down there- especially anything that might help me plan. Goodnight, Susie.” With that, Abby left.

---

The rebellion required planning, and management. Every axe was pulled off the walls and moved into Sammy’s sanctuary, along with the knives- just in case a loyalist decided to take them away one night. Two people guarded the elevator on each floor and at all times, and not to keep loyalists out. Loyalists were allowed right through, but any especially rebellious souls had to be kept from ruining their plan. Henry and Abby were busy planning the groups and drawing up an easy-to-follow map to the portal room. Every department head struggled to keep the remaining workers to their jobs. It seemed pointless for them to work jobs they’d quickly be fleeing from, but it was essential in order to keep suspicions to a minimum.

---

It was the night before the march. Most were turning in early, knowing that tomorrow, they would have to be on their guard well into the night. Susie had tried to do the same, but she couldn’t sleep. There was too much on her head. Too many factors that had to align if she was ever going to make it out. The horrifying possibility of facing the ink demon again if they failed. And her mind, despite there being there bigger fish to fry, kept going back to Norman, if they could ever have what they had once had again, and if Norman even wanted that anymore.

“Has Norman talked to you, yet?” Susie asked Grant once he entered their room. Since Norman hadn’t rejoined them, there was no real reason for them to still be roommates, but they’d stayed roommates anyhow, just out of habit.

“No. As far as I know, he hasn’t talked to anyone.”

“I saw him speak today. Wally wanted to help him carry something, and Norman snarled at him to back off. So, it’s not a spell- just mental stuff from being imprisoned. I wanna help him, but he won’t talk to me. Can you try?”

“Sure,” Grant said. “I can’t guarantee it’ll work, but I’ll try.”

“Okay,” Susie said, biting back tears. “I just wanna know that he’s in a place where he’ll be able to handle things tomorrow. And... I know that this is the last thing that should be on my mind, but... can you ask why he’s avoiding me?”

“Oh, Susie. I...” Grant tried to find the words to comfort her. “I’ll talk to him.” Honestly, it didn’t seem like Norman was the only one who had to pull themselves together for tomorrow night.

Norman wasn’t used to being pitied. Even as a kid, after all he’d been through, his adoptive family had known that he was a problem child who needed to be set straight before he got even bigger and his aggression became more dangerous. He’d never wanted pity, either, and now that he had it, he couldn’t say that his opinion on it had improved any. He never thought he’d miss his coworkers looking at him like he was a frightening beast. Though he did cut the long, greasy hair he’d grown while imprisoned as soon as he had the chance, he’d been half-tempted to just wash it and keep it, just to somewhat retain that beastly image.

Mostly, he wanted a way to cope. He wanted to talk with his sister, or go for a walk in the woods, or somehow get out of the sight of these people without isolating himself in one room. That had been what he was doing in his off hours- both because there was little else he wanted to do and because he didn’t have the stamina he used to. It wasn’t Susie’s room. Honestly, he’d been too scared to even look at her.

Norman knew of the plan. Honestly, it had happened so quickly after he was released from his imprisonment that it was a little hard to take in. Yes, late tomorrow night, he and everyone else would end up escaping or die trying, and Norman would either reunite with his sister and put his life together from there, or it would be the end of him. It was happening, but it didn’t seem real.

There was a knock at his door. Norman pulled himself up and answered it. It was Grant. Well, out of everyone in the studio it could have been, Grant was the most tolerable.

“Hey, Norman. You... wanna play some cards?” There was a little pity in Grant’s voice. Thankfully not too much.

Norman ushered Grant into the room. They sat down on the floor, and Grant started shuffling the cards.

“So, you ready for tomorrow?”

“I guess. Kind of hard to believe it’s happening.”

Grant’s face lit up. “You’re talking!”

Norman shrugged. “It’s easy when it’s you."

“Uh, thanks. Do you want talk about... you know, what’s happened?”

“No,” Norman said, and the two played cards in silence for a while before Norman spoke up again. “Is Susie okay?”

“She’s fine. She’ll be strong enough to make it out, assuming the plan goes well.”

Norman’s face was unreadable. “Good." A long pause. “Y’know, she’s childish, and shallow, and stupid. But she was impressed with me because I was strong and I could protect her. And so, you know, she was pretty, and we did... things together. I thought that could be all it was, but she was sweet and kind to me and I went and caught feelings for her. Of course, shallow attraction based on one thing won’t last now that I look like starving stray dog, but whatever. So long as she’s okay. She’s a good girl. So long as she’s okay.”

Grant just stared at him. “Have you... looked her in the eye recently?”

“What?”

“Uh, sorry. It’s just that you’re usually so good at figuring this kind of thing out that it borders on the supernatural, and right now, you’re really, really wrong. This entire, organized rebellion started with her trying to put together a rescue team for you. She wanted to be the first one down in loyalist territory, for you. She’s actually the one who sent me, because she’s worried about how you’ll do tomorrow.”

With the last line, Norman’s face went from appreciation and disbelief to twisted anger. “For God’s sake! Joey didn’t cut my fucking legs off!”

“Well, she can’t know how well you’re doing if you avoid her. Look, if you aren’t up for it, I can go back and try to comfort her, tell her you’re fine.”

“No. No. I’ll do it. And I’m sorry that I’m not my most pleasant right now.”

Grant smiled. Nothing ever changed- the best way to get Norman to do anything was to offer to do it for him. Susie slept in Norman’s arms that night, knowing it could be their last chance to be together.

#Bendy and the Ink Machine #joey drew #(sort of)#susie campbell #norman polk #abby lambert #my fanfiction #Story: prison cell

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