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helliontherapscallion · 3 years

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(Y/n) and the Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Week: Thursday (Part 2)

Monday Tuesday Wednesday Thursday (Part 1) Friday Saturday Sunday

Spotify Playlist (collaborative)

Warnings: panic attacks, swearing, puking, concussions, mentions of injuries/bullying, homophobia

Word count: 5,138

After school, you were sitting on the couch as you furiously typed on your keyboard at an extremely fast pace. You were on a roll with these essays, they were probably going to be finished by the time you had to go back to the school to get on the bus with the team. You figured that you could even finish Annie’s essay and get started on Sammy’s US history presentation on the sociopolitical climate of the United States in the mid twentieth century to today. However, instead of covering a variety of topics like the rubric requested you to do, you were only going to talk about the significant events that happened to the LGBT+ community starting with Stonewall and going to Obergefell v. Hodges. You were also going to go in depth about how even if there are more opportunities available and more laws set in place to protect for LGBT+ people in the present then there were in past, members of the LGBT+ community still suffer heavy discrimination in the workplace and in the public. With receipts of course, the assignment required a minimum of three pictures per slide, and the group chat was a perfect source.

After that was done, you would email Sammy’s teacher (you had her last year for US history and you knew that she had a son in the grade below you currently transitioning from female to male) that you were the one that did her project and send screenshots of Sammy calling you slurs. Luckily for you, you had receipts of her being transphobic in the past that you could also send. Everything was effortlessly falling into place for you today.

As you were typing, the front door swung open and two overly excited fifth graders ran into the house and up the stairs. A tired Schlatt followed them. “I will never know how the hell Phil keeps up with them.”

“I dunno, maybe because he’s already raised three kids before.”

You watched as your uncle jumped and whipped his head over towards you, his hand clutching his chest. He lightly glared at you, “christ kid don’t do that, you nearly gave me a heart attack.”

You smirked at him before turning back to your laptop to continue typing the essay. You were almost done with the conclusion paragraph on Annie’s essay and you wanted to get to Sammy’s presentation as fast as possible. As you were typing, you felt a warm air fan across your neck and your uncle’s voice right next to your ear, “whatcha typin?”

You lept off the couch and almost fell into the coffee table before steadying yourself and deadpanning at Schlatt. “I was typing an essay before you interrupted me.”

He snorted, “it looked like you were on a roll, just thought I’d see what my beloved niece was writing. Can I read it?”

Your eyes lit up as an excited grin split your cheeks, “yeah, but lemme catch you up real quick. Adrian, Sammy, and Annie got mad at me a few days ago and wanted me to do some homework for them as a sort of payment. But after they pulled that little stunt in the lunchroom yesterday, they decided to be little bitches to me and call me slurs. So naturally, I decided to change the essay prompt into an in depth analysis about discrimination LGBT people face from their peers on the daily. My english teacher’s really against homophobia and the project’s worth twenty five percent of our overall grade, so it’s perfect.”

While you were rambling on and on about your detailed plot for revenge, Schlatt couldn’t help but be proud of the person you’d become. A major part of him was impressed that you came up with a detailed plan so quickly, that meant that his cunning nature was rubbing off on you and that made him ecstatic. Sure you mentioning not being straight was new to him, but he was prepared to accept you for whatever you identified as. He didn’t care how people identified, he just cared if they were good people. And his niece was one of the best kids he knew. He’d let your slip up slide for now until you felt comfortable enough to properly come out to him.

“That an amazing plan, fuckin brilliant. Though, you could do more.”

That piqued your interest, “I’m listening.”

“Do you have any blackmail?”

Your eyes glinted with sudden understanding, “why yes I do, uncle dearest. I just so happen to have thousands of texts from them talking shit about each other and basically the entire school. And them being incredibly racist. They would be destroyed if that came out.”

“Two things. One, never call me that again. Two, perfect. Keep it as leverage if they try to do something. You don’t pull out all the good cards in the first round, you wait for the right moment to strike so you can win. You need to constantly defend yourself against other players and anticipate their every move. If you leak everything right now, you won’t have anything to use against them if they have something up their sleeve you didn’t know about. Patience is key in things like this.”

You absorbed every single word that came out of his mouth like it was the holy gospel. Although he was your uncle and you loved him with all your heart, but he was a sly bastard when he wanted to be. He knew his way around fighting and manipulating people just right, so you were incredibly happy that you were on his good side and he absolutely adored you. Though questionable and morally gray, he was giving you advice because he cared about you and you’d be an idiot to not heed his advice.

“That’s genius, Uncle Schlatt. What would I do without you?”

“You’d get along just fine without me, you would’ve gotten there eventually. You’re smart. I’m just givin you a little push in the right direction.”

“I honestly would’ve never thought about waiting, I was so dead set on getting revenge that I would’ve just leaked everything all at once. I want them to feel how I felt when they were around me. I-” you paused. Would this make you the same as them? You’d be screwing up all their grades, Adrian’s job, and Sammy’s athletic career. You came to the chilling realization that you’d be the same as them. You’d be as manipulative as they were. “...Uncle Schlatt, would that make me the same as them?”

“Fuck no! You’re always gonna be better than them no matter what. When they’re at their best, you’re always gonna be a whole lot better than them. They deserve what’s happening to them, it sounds like they put you through so much shit the past few years. I actually think you could do a whole lot worse to them if you’re willing to put more work in, but it’s your plan and if you think that what you’re doing is too much,” he darkly chuckled, “you wouldn’t like my idea.”

“You’re right, they deserve everything I have planned for them. God, I don’t know what I was thinking, ‘would that make me the same as them,’” you mocked what you said earlier, “what a load of shit. Anyways, thanks Uncle Schlatt. I’m gonna get back to writing this. They’re due tomorrow and I wanna finish as much as I can before I have to go.”

“Alright, whaddya want for dinner? Phil’s gonna be like thirty minutes late from work so I’m cookin tonight.”

Oh no. No, no, no, no. That man can barley cook boxed mac n cheese, let alone anything else. He’d burn down the house if you left him alone in the kitchen with the stove. “On second thought, why don’t I help you with dinner? We can make some chicken alfredo.”

“Awe, you’d rather hang out with me than finish your homework? Ya really do love me. C’mon let’s start.”

The process of making dinner was… interesting. Multiple times, Schlatt almost spilled boiling water on himself and he even managed to burn the pasta while it was in the water. How he even managed to do that you’d never find out, you had your back turned cutting up vegetables and herbs at the time. That was when you subtly started to take over in the kitchen, giving him smaller tasks while you handled everything else. You felt bad for Tubbo, his father can’t cook for shit.

By time you finished, about an hour passed and Philza had come home and changed out of his work clothes. The two adults sat at the table discussing something that you didn’t pay attention to while your brothers and cousin were in the living room waiting for you to finish dinner. Finally, you set the table and it was time to eat.

Because you couldn’t have many fatty foods before any matches or practices, you had made a separate plate for yourself that only had plain pasta, chicken, and broccoli. You were surprised with how well it turned out, you were following an iffy recipe you found on the first link Google brought up.

After dinner, you went upstairs to put your uniform on and pack a little bag full of things you might need: a small blanket, some snacks, a water bottle, and a portable charger. Oh, and fuzzy socks and a pair of crocs. You could never go wrong with fuzzy socks and crocs. Feeling a vibration in your pocket, you pulled out your phone.

Hales : )

(Y/n), I’m omw to your house

Gonna give you a ride to the school

(Y/n)

Hales you don’t have to give me a ride, I can drive

Hales : )

Don’t care

Omw, be there in like 7 mins

You swiped out of yours and her conversation and opened up the family group chat

(Y/n)

I don’t need a ride to the school, Haley’s giving me one

She’s gonna give me a ride home too

Dadza

Alright, thank her for me

Tell her I said good luck too!

Uncle Schlatty Patty

Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do

Dadza

(Y/n), do everything he wouldn’t do

Uncle Schlatty Patty

Fuck you I’m a good influence

Dadza

You’re really not

Wilby

^^^^

Technology Sword

Uncle Schlatty Patty

Fuck all of you

You heard Haley’s car pull into the driveway and dashed out of your room with your bag. Just as you put your hand on the doorknob, a hand stopped you.

“Coat.”

You grumbled as you reached past Philza to grab your coat. After you slipped it on, you were pulled into a hug. “You’re gonna do great out there. I know you’re gonna win this, we’ll be watching in the stands.”

“Damn right she’s gonna do good, she’s my niece after all.”

Schlatt pulled you away from your father’s hug and tried to ruffle your hair before you swatted away his hand, “don’t. You have no idea how long it took me to get a perfect ponytail. I have an ungodly amount of hairspray and bobby pins in my hair right now.”

“Fine. You’re gonna kick their asses tonight.”

Tommy and Tubbo pushed past Schlatt and both tackled you into a hug making you stumble slightly back.

“Kick their asses good (y/n)!” Tommy cheered, making you crack up before one stern glance from Philza completely stopped you. “Tommy, don’t say that. (Y/n), not funny.”

“Alright, Haley’s waiting for me. I gotta go, love you guys!” As you turned to walk through the door, you could hear your family following you and shouting “good luck”. You felt heat creep up on your cheeks as Haley rolled down her window and wove at your family with the biggest grin on her face.

“Thank you! We’re gonna take home the gold for sure!”

You hopped in her car as she rolled up the window and chuckled. “I love your family, they’re always so full of energy. It’s refreshing to see compared to how boring my family is.”

You glanced at your entire family gathered on the front porch. Tommy and Tubbo were practically vibrating with excitement, Wilbur and Techno calmly smiled and wove at you, Philza was grinning widely at you as you saw his mouth forming words that you couldn’t hear or read, and Schlatt was grinning cheekily at you. You raised your hand to wave at them as they vanished from view when Haley pulled out of your driveway. You smiled softly, “I love em too.”

The car ride was relatively quick with the same soft indie pop music floating from the speakers and an easy going conversation with Haley about the match tonight. You both thought that you could beat the other team if everyone focused 100% and played exactly like you guys did in practices. If everyone did that, you would be unstoppable.

Luckily for you and Haley, you were the first ones in line to board the bus so you two got the back seat with Zara and Jazzy sitting across from you guys. The hour long bus ride passed quickly and lively with you four passing around your phone and playing some mad libs, you were sure that by the end of the last game you four were laughing and crying. Sometime in the middle of the trip, you noticed that Haley would start to lean on your shoulder and continuously glance at you as she laughed. You desperately wanted to believe that it was because she liked you, but she was straight and she was your best friend. She was probably trying to make sure you were having a good time.

When the team had gotten to the opposing school and left the locker room to stretch in the gym, you could hear your family start to scream your and Haley’s names from the front row next to you, Tommy and Tubbo being the loudest amongst them with Philza trying to get them to quiet down so you could focus. You felt your cheeks heat up as you smiled at them and Haley wove enthusiastically back at them. Zara was laughing at you two. Stretching went by in a flash and before you knew it, you were on the court facing the opposing team.

The first match was won by the opposing team by five points. The second match stretched on and on until it was won by your team narrowly by two points. The team was going to have to shape up in the third match if you guys wanted a chance at winning, the opposing team was good. Before the third match started, Coach Williams called for a time out so you guys could talk about strategy. Before Haley could go back onto the court, you pulled her aside.

“Hales, we need to do what we practiced. The other team won’t be expecting it at all, I’ve been setting you up this entire game. They’re never going to expect you setting me up for a spike.”

“When are we going to do it though? We need a better plan.”

“I’m sure the opportunity will come and both of us will recognize it. We just can’t do it too early in the game though, that’ll ruin their surprise.”

“(Y/n), I hope you know what you’re doing.”

“When do I not Hales? We gotta get gold this year.”

The third round went by with both teams constantly swapping places until you both were tied fifteen to fifteen. You saw the ball flying towards Haley, giving her the perfect opportunity to set you up for a spike. “HALEY NOW!”

You watched as her face hardened in determination as she pretended like she was going to spike it by jumping high in the air and stretching her arms back, making the opposing front row players all gather in front of her. Much to their surprise, she launched it towards you as you leaped up and went for the kill. The stinging of the ball hit by your wrist and the smack sound the ball made when it slammed onto the open gym floor was something you’d never forget as the crowd around you went wild over the unexpected play. You could hear the high pitched screaming of Tommy and Tubbo over everybody else. Glancing at them over your shoulder, you saw them jumping up and down on the gym floor and looking at you with awe filled eyes and gaping mouths. The rest of your family looked at you with similar expressions, their cheers echoing in your mind. Winking at them, you turned back to your team and went straight to Haley. Clapping a hand on her shoulder, you pulled her into a quick hug, yelling over the raving of the crowd. “HALEY WE NAILED THAT!”

“HOLY SHIT I DID NOT THINK THAT WAS ACTUALLY GONNA WORK!”

“You have such little faith in your setter! You wound me Hales.”

“Well, I would have more faith in you if you weren’t chaotic on the court, sweetheart.”

You felt yourself surge in happiness at the nickname, but you couldn’t afford to focus too much on it. Your team only needed one more point to win best in the state and go to nationals. It would be the first time in your team’s history if you reached national level, and you’d be damned if you were the one to screw it up for them.

The last rotation went on for a while, each team fighting tooth and nail for the state championship title with clashing determination. You tried your best to block every hit and try to set Haley up for a spike, and you were successful for the most part, only missing a few blocks. You saw the setter adjacent to you set the spiker up for a spike and jumped up in time to try to block it, your arms stretched upwards and your palms out. Only, the ball didn’t hit your hands. It collided painfully with your nose, ricocheted off your face with a thwack and sailed over to the other side of the court. Your head whipped back as your body followed suit and flew backwards onto the floor. Without giving you any time to react, your head bounced back and cracked against the polished hardwood floor of the gym. Everything went black.

“...(y……”

“..(y/n)......”

“(Y/n).”

You faintly heard someone calling someone’s name over the continuous ringing noise. Was it your name? It felt right, so it had to be your name. You peeled your eyes open to see a blurry figure hovering over you. It was swirled with tans, browns, and backs. After a while of the figure repeating your name, it slowly became more recognizable, albeit appearing twice in your vision. It took you a while to figure out who this was before your muddled brain recognized Haley.

“Hales! There’s two o’ya. Twice as beautiful babe…” You slurred out as you attempted to smile at her.

“Oh thank god, PLEASE WE NEED A DOCTOR SHE HIT HER HEAD!” Her usually angelic voice gritted against your brain like sandpaper making you cringe as pain exploded in your head.

“God babe you’re so loud, why’s so bright? I-wha's goin on?” You blearily tried to move your head to look around only to be stopped by a pair of large hands on each side of your head gently holding it in place. You moved your laggy eyes around to look at the figure. He was a blonde man with blue eyes and a hint of stubble on his chin. His eyebrows were knitted together and he looked… he looked… your brain worked to figure out why he looked how he looked. Who was he?

“Please don’t move hun.” His muffled voice was baritone. You squinted at him trying to figure out who this man was.

“Who th f-fuck… why?”

“I’m your dad hun. Do-do you not recognize me?” You made a noise in the back of your throat as your stuffy brain finally put a name to the face.

“Dad- wha’s goin on? I’on feel so good…”

“Shh, I know, I know. Just stop moving and talking. Everything’s fine. I’m here. You’re okay.”

“Mmk… Dad, where are we? I’ont know- you’re so quiet.”

“Stop moving so much. You’re on the floor in a gym. You just won your team the state championship. Now stop talking please.”

Huh. So that’s why everybody seemed to appear from above you. You strained your eyes to look around you, but you could only see your dad’s face hovering above you. “Shit I- who’s aroun’ me? Where’s Hales?”

“I’m right here sweetheart. I got the doctor, Mr. Minecraft.”

Your dad’s face moved away from your vision so fast that it made your head spin and your stomach twist. Another face appeared above you that you once again didn’t recognize.

“I’m Doctor Martin, can you tell me your first and last name?”

“Uh, (y/n) Minecraft?”

“Good, what month are we in right now?”

“Nov-November?”

“Close, it’s late October. Can you tell me who this,” he pointed to your dad, “is?”

“S’my dad Phillip.”

“That’s your dad Philza.”

The questioning stopped as he suddenly shined a blinding light into your sensitive eyes. You hissed as you tried to move your head away from the offending light only to be held in place by your dad’s hands. Your head spun as you moved too quickly and a wave of nausea hit you, making you groan and move your arm to cover your eyes. Your hand was stopped by something warm and soft wrapping around it and holding it tightly. Everything was so overwhelmingly and painfully bright and loud. You wanted to make it stop.

“Mr. Minecraft, your daughter appears to have a concussion. I don’t have the tools on hand to determine the severity of it, but it’s worrying that her pupils are asymmetrical, she’s delirious, and has slight memory loss. I understand you live about an hour away from here, and it’s alright for you to take her to a hospital closer to your house. Make sure you keep her alert.”

Your delirious mind only registered about half of what came out of the doctor’s mouth. You mumbled gibberish as you once again opened your eyes to look around. You were only briefly able to crane your neck to the left. Several figures large and small were standing behind your dad. Your family, your mind supplemented. Slowly, your mind was starting to recognize your surroundings even if there was currently double of everything and everything was blurry.

“I’m going to help you stand up. Do ya think you can do that?”

“Yeah Dad.” You lifted your upper body off from the ground with a gentle hand on your back helping you sit up. Fighting the wave of nausea that slapped you in the face, you reached up to rub at your eyes. A hand once again stopped you. You peeked your eyelids open and lightly glared at whomever stopped you. “Hales you’re lucky you’re so cute I woulda slapped you. I like holdin but you’re bein annoying. Stop.” You attempted to make your voice sound firm, but the words that came out of your mouth were slightly slurred.

She was silent as she helped her dad haul you to your feet. Once on your feet, you saw the room spin and felt yourself start to sway slightly. An arm wrapped itself around your shoulders and pulled you close to them so that your weight was supported. They were a little taller than you were making it easy to lean on them.

“...Can you walk?” A deep, monotone voice rumbled the chest of the person you were leaning against.

“Mhm. ‘M not weak.” Though your limbs felt like they were made of molasses, you placed one foot in front of the other slowly. The person moved alongside you, “you’re doing so good, keep going.” That sparked familiarity in you as you stopped in your tracks and tried to look up at the person you were leaning against making the person tighten their arm around your shoulders when you almost fell over.

“Tech?”

“Yeah, it’s Technoblade. Just focus on walking. You’re almost out of the gym.”

When you realized that you were out of the gym, you sighed in relief. It was so much quieter and darker. Though it was still relatively bright, it was better than the gym.

“S’better.”

“When we get her to the car we can give her some sunglasses or something if it’s still too bright for her.”

“Wilbs-”

“Focus on walking.”

You huffed in irritation, “don’ tell me what to do bitch.”

You felt Techno’s body jolt slightly as he chuckled, making your head throb at the sudden movement. “Just walk.”

When you walked outside, you shivered as you felt the cool air nip at your exposed skin. Right, you were in your volleyball uniform. “I’ll go pull the car around, you guys stay with her.”

You saw a tall brunet start to walk away from you. Uncle Splat? Uncle Schmat? Whatever his name was, you were sure he was your uncle. You tried to snuggle closer to Techno, craving warmth but never being satisfied. Where was your uncle?

After a while, you saw a car moving towards you and blinding light pointed right at you making you cringe away and groan. Techno started to slowly walk towards the car. “C’mon (y/n), you’re almost there. When you’re in the car you can relax.”

“Tommy, Tubbo, and Techno, you’re in the back row. Schlatt can drive and Wil, you’re taking the passenger seat. I’ll stay with her in the middle row so she can have some room to lay down.” Tommy and Tubbo were with you? Why weren’t they talking, they usually were very vocal.

“Tom, Tubbs didja like the game?”

They didn’t say anything as they climbed into the car. Did they not hear you?

“They’re just… tired (y/n).” Your dad’s voice reassured you as he took Techno’s place holding you up.

“I wanna nap. ‘M so tired.”

“You can’t sleep yet. We gotta get you to a doctor first.”

“Mm. Makes sense.”

“Let’s get you in the car hun.”

As he helped you climb into the car, you felt an overwhelming wave of nausea wash over you making you lose your balance and almost faceplant into the cloth seats. You felt yourself being gently, yet urgently taken out of the car and led to grass as you felt your esophagus shorten. Something burning made its way up your throat and spewed into the grass. You felt someone rubbing your back as you puked up your dinner.

When you were done, you reached up with a shaking hand to wipe your mouth. “You feelin better? Think you can get back into the car or do you need to sit down for a bit?”

“Car.”

After some difficulty, you were successfully in the middle row of the car laying down with your head on Philza’s lap. Soon enough, your shoes were taken off and a blanket was draped over you.

“(Y/n), what do you remember?”

You scrunched up your face as you squinted at Philza’s face. “I remember playing volleyball with Hales. She’s so pretty, she’s straight though. I remember the other team hitting the ball, me jumping, then nothin. Wha’ happened?”

You watched as Philza winced, “well, you got everything right so far. You got hit in the face with the ball so you fell and hit your head on the floor. You were passed out for a minute before you woke up. It was a pretty nasty fall, we’re going to the hospital now. How’re ya feelin?”

“Head hurts, ‘m seein two of everything, an I can’t think.”

“Do you know what a concussion is?” You nodded in his lap slightly, “you probably have one.”

After a while of talking, you were slowly starting to come to your senses and your speech was clearing up, but your head was still too stuffy to think about what you were saying before you said it. You didn’t have a filter.

“Do you wanna tell us about your week so far? Do you remember most of it?”

“Mhm, it was shit. On Monday I had a panic attack and Adrian, Sammy, and Annie were being bitches to me all day. They fucked up my back. On Tuesday, they got mad at me for ditching them and they had me do their homework, had another panic attack, and Haley told me that someone took pictures of our boobs ‘n stuff and they were gonna leak it to the school if Haley didn’t stop hanging out with me. Haley and I almost kissed, but she’s straight. Pulled an all nighter and Wednesday I accidentally came out to Tech and Wil and had another panic attack. Annie, Adrian, and Sammy took more pictures of me through my window, Annie outed me to the entire school and slapped me. Another panic attack, skipped the last two classes and felt like shit the entire practice. Today Adrian and Sammy told me to kill myself and I had another panic attack. ’S about it.”

As you were going through your week, the hand that was previously gently stroking your hair had frozen as the car was enveloped in a tense silence. Luckily, Tommy and Tubbo were passed out in the back seat so they didn’t hear how bad your week was. Everyone awake knew that you had a few bad days this week, but they didn’t know the full extent of it. You watched as Philza’s expression had turned downright murderous, but you didn’t really care. You were busy talking about your week.

For the rest of the car ride, Philza asked you simple questions like what your favorite color was, your favorite animal, basically your favorite everything. Eventually, the car pulled into the hospital parking lot and Philza helped you get out of the car. “Schlatt, can you take the boys home so they can get some rest? I’ll stay with her.”

“Yeah, I’m on it. Don’t cause too much trouble (y/n), we all know you can raise hell.” He watched you for a reaction, but when you didn’t react, he coughed. “Well, I’ll see ya later kid. Good luck.”

The car drove off leaving you and Philza at the front of the emergency room building. “It’s gonna be a long night (y/n).”

“I gotta finish Annie’s essay and Sammy’s presentation though.”

“No you don’t, I’ll email your teachers.”

You two checked in with the front desk before moving to sit on the uncomfortable chairs. It was going to be a long night. You were so tired.

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writingquestionsanswered · 3 years

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Tattoo Shop AU - a quick, practical guide for writers

Guest Post by lebanon-hangover

lebanon-hangover said: this is based on my personal experience with the industry only, so depending on the era and country you are portraying, it may not be 100% accurate for your setting.

Hygiene

It may not be obvious at first glance, but most tattooists are clean freaks. We work with human blood every day, and we get clients from all ages, ethnic and social economic backgrounds, with all sorts of medical conditions.

We usually mop frequently, bleach the sinks, wipe down everything, and use cling film or bags to wrap everything. I mean fucking everything. We also scrub in, and sanitise the area on the person we work on.

Needles are collected in a sharps bin, and handled very carefully. Medical waste goes in yellow bags, and both are collected by a professional service.

Used ink caps may look full, but the ink gets diluted by blood. Like you dip the inky needle into the person, but you also dip the person’s blood into your ink. These are medical waste too.

Cleaning up must be done promptly after the session. Bin everything disposable, put things through the ultrasonic and the autoclave, and sanitise the area. We may take machines apart, but more for maintenance than cleaning, sometimes we swap parts in them too.

We have two sinks, one for hand washing, one for cleaning.

All inks and needles have use by dates.

The internal dynamics of a studio

Depending on the country, some tattoo shops tend to have ties to biker gangs, and some of those internal dynamics and unwritten rules are often present.

There’s a pecking order and it’s dead serious. Basically the longer you’ve been in a shop, the higher ‘rank’ you are, you get the better positioned stations, first pick of walk-ins, etc (Unless the client is asking for someone by name). Regardless of your actual experience in the industry, like if you move into your old apprentice’s shop, they are still senior to you. If the owner or their partner is an artist, obviously they are on top of the chain by default.

We are self employed, but we have a boss. You are only making money if you are working, but you still have set work hours.

We get paid by the clients, and we pay the studio a cut. In return, there are some items provided by them, and some we buy for ourselves. Usually the chairs, tattoo beds, gloves, cleaning products, clip cord covers, masks, aprons, ink caps, vaseline, green soap, and some basic ink is provided by the shop. We buy our own machines, arm rests, stations, pedals, power supplies, clipcords, tips and grips, needles, special colours, stencil fluid…these are a personal preference, and often depend on the artists’ style.

We totally ask to try out each other’s equipment sometimes, or ask for a certain type of needle if we ran out.

The receptionist is usually just one of us, maybe a piercer, but it also can be a hired person in top studios.

The apprentice in the traditional system is often mistreated, and they have to pay for their education, have to be there multiple days a week and don’t make any money. It’s kind of like a tear them down, build them back up again thing to see if they are really serious about the job. Times are slowly changing, but 99% of them will always need a second job. Most of them are working as bar staff.

When you open a new studio, you must visit all the existing local ones and introduce yourself, otherwise you may get a brick through the window. Otherwise there’s not much beef among individual artists, they are often friends, go to conventions together and party after, etc.

The Artists

Tattooing is a fairly physical job, stretching skin is very important. We have to also keep our clients safely still, so we often use positions to pin them down a bit. Sometimes you hit a reflex point on the foot or under a knee, and you don’t want to get kicked. Sometimes you have to pull away super fast, cos they are sneezing, yawning or giggling.

Most tattooists drink a lot of coffee, tea or energy drinks.

Some people are all rounders, some have specific styles, but we recognise each other’s art styles. Sometimes we delegate work to each other, if we think our coworkers style fits the concept better. For example if there’s a person who does script well, we give them those projects.

We don’t like when people come in with designs from other artists. Art theft is frowned upon, and we work best with our own drawings.

Most apprentices practice on their own legs, and sometimes we tattoo each other when it’s quiet. Most people have cover ups, or bad pieces from their early days. The artists’ own tattoos sometimes are in a different style than what they do, but we like to collect ink from friends or colleagues we admire.

In the first 1-2 years one is an apprentice, then junior artist. At 5-8 years of tattooing, you have earned your stripes and are considered an experienced artist.

Conventions are really fun, but can be stressful. You can make good money working at one, and sometimes get awarded for it too. We can also spend a lot at a convention.

Sometimes we poke our fingers by accident, and it’s a scary thing. Good case scenario is just some random dots on your fingers. Let’s not go into the bad case scenario.

We do guest spots sometimes, just to meet new clients, and change it up a bit.

We spend a lot of time drawing up things, and designs are meant to fall on specific muscles, stretch with the skin a certain way, so they are tailored to the body proportions of the client. A good tattoo is also an optical illusion, complimenting the body shape.

Social media presence is like a second job, you need good photos, and you need to market yourself.

Tattoo ink does not wash out, so some stains are inevitable when pouring it out. Those ink bottles get stuck so easily, and we wrestle them a lot. We try to avoid it, but wearing all dark colours is a thing for a reason.

The Clients

Tattooists need to have a good ‘bedside manners’ too. We get nervous or self conscious people, and we are told personal things during long sessions. For example scar coverups and memorial pieces can be very emotional.

We have pretty good poker faces and first aid trainings. People can faint, get shaky, throw up, some have seizures, have b.o., get sweaty, etc the same way as at a blood donation event? It’s no big deal really. We sit them down, give them some water and some sugar, and re-book them if necessary. Most artists keep some wet wipes, mouth wash, deodorant, sweets, maybe even some clean clothes at work, just in case.

If someone comes in with a wild idea for a jobstopper, we would sit down and have a long talk. If they haven’t got many tattoos, we usually try to stir them towards more safe choices, offering them creative ideas. It’s like those jedi mind tricks sometimes.

If someone is undecided, we show them our own hand drawn flash sheets. Once its gone, its gone tho, we don’t use the designs twice.

Pinterest is full of photoshopped fake tattoos, some that won’t even work as real ink. Many people also touch up their work digitally on photos, so some clients have really unrealistic expectations.

We can totally tell if someone is intoxicated or hangover. It thins the blood, and they bleed out the ink, and it’s super annoying. if it’s bad, they will be sent home and rebooked.

Some folks are self conscious about body hair, their size, stretch marks and scars. Chances are, we have seen similar, and we aren’t bothered by it, because it’s work. Surgery scars, scars from accidents, self harm scars, burns, we see it all the time. We shave some really hairy dudes all the time girl, your legs are fine. Seriously. If something makes tattooing you dangerous we will tell you.

Fit, muscular people are harder to tattoo because they are really firm. Its a workout for us.

Everyone gets midnight messages about the aftercare from nervous clients, and drunken booty calls about getting inked right at this second. We have copy paste replies…

We get creeps sometimes. Stalking, weird conversations, tmi info dumps etc.

Other things to include (for fun, or for plot reasons)

We sometimes have those “oh fuck” moments. We all do, but mistakes can be fixed, and we play it cool.

Tattooing takes time. Usually 30 minutes to multiple sessions though years and years.

Healing tattoos takes about 2-4ish weeks, and your characters shouldn’t go roll around in dirt, sunbathe, swim, pick at the scabs. Nasty infections, and messed up tattoos would be the results.

If you have a strong immune system, and you get a lot of work done in one sitting, you may get a brief bit of a temperature. It’s normal, and will go away.

Its a lot easier to get seriously drunk after getting a tattoo. Be careful.

We sometimes draw on each other for practice with our marker pens.

Tattoos are inside the skin, not on top of it. Imagine a low opacity, skin toned layer over the ink, adding to the healed tattoos’ colour. Please stop making your characters skin fully transparent.

Heavy blackwork and palms are done in multiple sessions.

You can’t cover up moles, because if they develop skin cancer, the dermatologist can’t see the signs.

There’s a stereotype about piercers having blacked out sleeves.

Stencil fluid looks just like cum.

You get that annoying itch on your face when you scrubbed in, put on gloves and finally ready to go.

Some artists have a strong preference for coil or rotary machines, and they bicker about it a lot. Coils are louder, more punchy, and more traditional, perfect for lineart. They can be customised, and they last forever. They are also called glorified doorbells by people who prefer rotaries. Rotary machines are smoother, lighter, and often use needles that are pulled back into the cartridges for safety. They are better for shading and delicate line work. Older tattooists often say they are dildo or butt plug shaped, overly delicate and are for “soft millennials” only.

Every artist owns like 5 to 20 machines, and they have specific machine builders they are loyal to.

The “which cable is broken and cutting out” guessing game. Clip cords and pedal cables get worn out easily, and that results in your machine running really jerky.

Walk-in always show up 10 minutes before closing.

We often look quite silly at work. Sleeves rolled up, folks use all sorts of plastic ppe, headlamps, and we tie up our hair. Add couple of purple smears from carbon paper, and we aren’t scary at all.

#writing guide #writing tips #writing advice #writer's guide #writeblr #writing community #writing #writing help #submission

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winter-turtle · 3 years

Text

Familiar-Unfamiliar - Winterturtle - Marvel Cinematic Universe [Archive of Our Own]

Tony mentally shuddered. Taking care of a regular kid was bad enough, taking care of a teenager was even worse, but taking care of an enhanced amnesiac teenager? That was a disaster in waiting. Tony could barely take care of himself, so just how exactly was he supposed to take care of another human being that practically didn’t know anything about the world?

Or villain Tony takes on a role of reluctant caretaker.

The boy’s eyes fluttered open, then immediately closed as the light above him stabbed his eyes. God, his head hurt.

But why did his head hurt? Did he fell asleep on the table again? Did he get hit with a dodgeball?

No… neither of those options seemed right. It was like a good chunk of his memory was missing. Or… more like his whole memory… The boy willed himself to remember, but another wave of pain crashed into his head, making him whine.

“You with me this time, kid?”

The voice sounded familiar, but the boy still couldn’t place it. Where did he knew the voice from?

“Hello?” the man drawled.

“Lights,” the boy muttered.

“Right.”

To the boy’s relief, the lights dimmed, allowing him to open his eyes and take in his surroundings. Huh. What was he doing in a hospital room? Did he get hit with that dodgeball after all? If yes, then he really should do something about…

About who? There was supposed to be name, he knew there was supposed to be the name! Why couldn’t he remember the name? He had to go to… someone… someone who had something to do with chairs… yeah, that someone would definitely help him.

…if only he knew where to find that someone…

The man cleared his throat, making the boy – Peter! His name was Peter! – turn to him. The man with brown eyes and a goatee was leaning on the wall, his arms crossed over his chest and displeased look on his face. Tiny frown settled on Peter’s face as he pushed himself into sitting position. He groaned again, rubbing his face with his palm.

“Great. You’re awake now,” the man continued. “Let me start with this: What the hell?”

“Uh…”

“All this time! All this time, all those encounters we had—"

Peter blinked owlishly at him.

“—I can’t believe they’ve been allowing a kid—”

What the hell was the man talking about?

“—gosh, you’re a kid! You have no business running around like that and putting yourself in danger!”

Oh lord. Was he in trouble? It definitely sounded like he was in trouble.

“—not to mention that this is below my level—”

Well, the man obviously knew him if he was scolding him like that. That was good, right?

“—can you imagine my utter shock—”

“Do you who I am?” Peter blurted out, cutting out the man’s rambling.

It was the man’s turn to be confused. “What kind of question is that? Yeah, I know who you are!” he threw up his arms, then muttered, “I do now, at least.”

Peter was pretty sure he wasn’t supposed to hear that last part, that it should be impossible to hear that last part, yet he did. Yet another mystery to be solved. “Good. Because,” he took in shuddering breath, “because I don’t,” he admitted.

“You… don’t know who you are?”

Peter shook his head.

The man fell silent. Then-

This was a total mess.

“Fuck!”

This was a total mess and Tony had no idea what to do. First the kid saw his face, then the kid got accidentally unmasked and… look, Tony knew he was a villain and the fights kinda became their thing, but he couldn’t just let him lie there in the middle of the battlefield while he was bleeding from the head!

It wasn’t even his mess to clean up to begin with! Some other asshole just showed up, claimed he had beef with Spidey and the rest was history. Tony was more of a recreational villain. It was a hobby born out of boredom. His fights with the spider-themed hero were more of a game to him than anything else. Like the kid was a cat chasing the red dot and Tony was the one holding the laser pointer.

What did he do to deserve this? Was it karma for all the time Rhodey had to take care of him during their MIT years?

Tony sighed for the umpteenth time.

“Sir? Are you okay?”

As he said – total mess. Tony kept stirring the eggs on the pan as the kid sat on one of the barstools, kicking his legs and looking around with those impossibly wide Bambi eyes filled to the brim with curiosity. Tony told him to stay in the room, but did the kid listen? Of course not! Because he was a little shit even if he couldn’t remember a damn thing!

“Don’t call me sir. I’m not that old,” Tony grumbled.

The kid’s head tilted to the side in a way that reminded Tony of a puppy. “Then what should I call you?”

God, he’s been fighting a literal kid this whole time.

Tony considered remaining silent. He was a villain. The kid was a hero. The fact remained unchanged even in their current predicament.

“You’re awfully trusting, you know?”

The kid shrugged. “You clearly know me, so… that has to amount to something, right? And besides, you would’ve hurt me already if you had any ill intentions.”

“How do you know I won’t hurt you now?”

“I just do. It’s,” he gestured vaguely, then let out a frustrated sigh. “Look, I can’t explain, but I have this feeling that tells me you’re alright. Like I can trust you.”

Tony made a grimace that could be compared to the face he was making while constipating. It was a good thing his back was facing the kid. “So I’m making you feel safe?”

Please say no. Please say no.

“Yeah, basically.”

Shit.

Tony sighed again. He piled the scrambled eggs on the plate and placed it in front of Peter. “Tony.”

The kid looked up from the plate. “What?”

“You asked what you can call me. Tony. You can call me Tony.”

The kid beamed. “Okay, Tony,” he said and dug in with the appetite of starving man. Tony piled the rest of the eggs on his own plate and joined the teen. Knowing him, Tony should’ve known the silence wouldn’t last too long.

“How do we know each other?”

“Uh…” Yeah, Tony wasn’t sure he should be telling him that. The kid was unpredictable at best and as much as Tony didn’t want to deal with the amnesiac teen, he couldn’t just release him into the wild to fend for himself. “I think it’s best if we let those things come back naturally.”

And until then, he will have to… take care of him. Tony mentally shuddered. Taking care of a regular kid was bad enough, taking care of a teenager was even worse, but taking care of an enhanced amnesiac teenager? That was a disaster in waiting. Tony could barely take care of himself, so just how exactly was he supposed to take care of another human being that practically didn’t know anything about the world?

The kid accepted that as a good enough answer and returned to his food, allowing Tony to resume the brainstorming on how to un-fuck the situation. There wasn’t much he could do since the amnesia was caused by a blunt trauma to the head. If it was caused by magic, then he could go and drop the kid off at the wizard’s doorstep with a note explaining the situation or something and be done with it. The kid’s only remaining family was out of town for the week, and he couldn’t go to the Avengers for obvious reasons.

Wait, couldn’t keeping the kid here be classified as kidnapping?

“Are you my dad?”

The question was so sudden it made Tony choke on the next bite. Violent coughing fit followed. What the hell possessed the kid to ask that?! He? A father? Yeah, no thanks.

There was a hand hitting his back in an attempt to alleviate the coughing. A moment later, Tony got his breathing under control.

“Are you okay?” the kid asked, worried frown on his face.

“Yes, but no!” Tony cleared his throat. “I’m not your dad. How did you come up with something like that?”

The kid had the gall to look sheepish. “Well… you were scolding me when I woke up. Like… you know…” he rubbed the back of his neck, trailing off.

“Like a parent?” Tony finished.

The kid’s cheeks reddened as he nodded. Then he flinched and his hands flew to clutch his head. Tony was at his side immediately. “What’s up?” he asked while lowering the teen into the chair.

The kid squeezed his eyes shut.

Shit, did Tony overlook something? Was there some hidden injury? He knew he shouldn’t have let the kid follow him! Or… was his memory coming back? If yes, then double-shit because Tony still hasn’t figured out what to do when that happened.

“It’s gone,” Peter whispered.

“What’s gone?”

“I…” he shook his head, “I thought I saw something. Like a brief flash of a picture, but when I reached for it, it disappeared.”

Tony was at loss of what to say, but he knew he had to say something because the kid looked so damn sad, it almost pulled at his heart strings. Yeah, only almost, definitely nothing more. “Hey,” he said, placing his hand on Peter’s shoulder gently, “if you saw a flash of what might have been some memory, then that’s a good thing! That means it’ll eventually all come back!”

God, he really had no idea how he’ll handle this once the kid’s memories came back. There will be no explaining the gentleness. He was a villain. A man of steel! He didn’t do feelings, especially towards annoying spider-teens. But the way the kid leaned into the touch made something in his chest stir.

The kid had multiple incidents like that throughout the next few days, all with the same result. But the one thing Tony discovered was that the kid… wasn’t that bad to be around. He was smart, fast learner and always hungry for knowledge. He could keep up with what Tony said without breaking a sweat. The knowledge, even if buried by amnesia, was still there somewhere.

“Finish your food,” Tony said. “We’ll see what we can do about your memories after that.”

Aside from some painfully awkward interactions, doors ripped out of their hinges and reassurances that it was okay, that there was nothing wrong with him and the strength and stickiness was kind of his thing, Tony would say that they got along.

“We’re part of the same family that branched generations ago because of a conflict involving a plot of land, a pig, a goat, a donkey and witchcraft.”

But how long would that last?

“That’s oddly specific, but no. For the last time, we’re not related.”

“Well, technically, all humans are related.”

“Okay, you smartass, but not like that.”

“Hmm, then… you’re an alien that was sent to look over me because I’m the chosen one destined to defeat evil overlord and bring peace and prosperity to some distant planet.”

“You’re just bullshitting now, aren’t you?”

“Maybe. You didn’t answer though.”

“Eh, even with all the crazy stuff going on in the world from time to time, that is also not correct.”

“Then we’re… rivals!”

Tony paused his tinkering. “You could say that, but not quite.”

The kid’s eyes lit up, excited that he was getting closer to the answer. Before he could open his mouth with another onslaught, Tony spoke up.

“Enough with the guessing game for now. Let’s order some dinner. Do you want anything specific?”

The kid looked thoughtful for a moment, then looked up. “Thai,” he said slowly.

“Does anything seem familiar?” Tony asked as he walked into the living room with their dinner.

Tony nodded. “Thai it is.”

Peter, looking intently at the movie titles since he was asked to pick one, pointed at one title. “I don’t know if it’s familiar, but let’s watch this one.”

Tony nodded. “Star Wars. A classic. Okay, hop here so we can start. I’m starving.”

Peter took the offered container. “Thanks.”

It’s been a week since he woke up in here and as much as the images in his head became clearer, it still wasn’t enough to figure out who he was. He was lucky to have Tony looking after him, even if the man didn’t want to say how they know each other – hence the guessing game.

Another painful onslaught hit him at the same moment as the theme song started playing and the food hit his tongue. Peter flinched. More images flashed in front of his eyes.

A woman with glasses and long brown hair.

A boy with black hair holding some round construction in his hands.

Red and blue… what?

And just like that, the images were gone. Peter let out long sigh. No luck this time either.

But this is good, he thought and took another bite.

As the movie progressed, Peter found himself seeing more images and to his thrill, he even finished some lines of the dialogue – all in his head, of course.

It wasn’t until the Death Star exploded that Peter’s head exploded too. Every single image he’d seen suddenly made sense. Connections reestablished themselves and swooped Peter away in a single wave. His heart began to race. Bending over, he wrapped his arms around his stomach, the stress threatening to give the food the return ticket.

“You good?”

Peter wrapped his hands around his stomach a little tighter. He was sitting next to Tony. Tony was Iron Man. Iron Man took-

“Yeah,” Peter forced out and shot to his feet and speed-walked out of the living room. “Just… bathroom.”

“The Thai didn’t sit well with you?”

Peter could hear the worry in his voice. “I guess,” he called over his shoulder and shut the door behind him. “Okay, okay,” he whispered to himself as he fought off the blush from his face and searched for an exit. His saving grace came to him in the form of the window.

Honestly, Tony told himself it was to be expected. The kid was bound to remember and it was only natural that he bolted once it happened. It was fine though, really. Sure, it stung, but he dd his best to squash the feeling.

He slipped into the night.

Why should it matter that some onesie-clad teenager though of him? As a matter of fact, Tony should be plotting how to shut the kid up so he couldn’t rat out his identity.

Yes, he should be doing that.

But he wasn’t.

Someone knocked on the door, making Tony’s irritation worse. Begrudgingly, he stood up, ready to snap at whoever who dared to disturb his sulking- ahem, he meant… never mind. He opened the door and to his surprise, he was met with empty space.

“Damn kids with their pranks,” he grumbled under his breath. His sour mood almost made him miss the package sitting on his doormat. “Huh,” was all he said. Strange. He didn’t remember ordering anything.

Tony set the package on the table and opened it. The first thing that greeted him was a note with familiar scrawl. Peter’s handwriting. Tony pulled out the letter and began to read.

Hi, Mr. Tony!

So, uh, first of all, let me say sorry that I ran away like that! I just, uh, couldn’t take advantage of your kindness anymore. I didn’t want to be a burden.

Tony frowned. So the kid ran because he was… embarrassed?Not because Tony was a villain? He decided to read on.

Next, let me say thank you for getting me off that battlefield. I looked up the footage and saw that you defended me from that other guy, so, thanks for that too.

I have a proposition for you – you won’t tell anyone my identity and I won’t tell anyone yours. It’ll stay between you and me. Well, and my aunt… But she forced me to talk, I swear! She got home early and didn’t believe me when I said I stayed over at new friend’s place. You can’t lie to her!

So, please, keep my identity secret. You might have your suits, but one does not simply mess with May. I doubt you want an angry Italian lady on your ass…

She also insisted on giving you a gift as a thank you for taking care of me. She made you a date loaf. I’m sorry about that.

Tony frowned again. Why would the kid be sorry about a date loaf? He ripped a piece of it, popped it into his mouth and immediately choked. Not really feeling like cleaning the chewed food from his carped, he forcefully swallowed it down. “Okay, I get it now,” he said, shuddering.

P.S. I hope the knowledge of my age won’t change the way we interact while in our suits. The fights with you are fun but I’m getting bored of holding back so you can win. :P XD

- Peter

Tony gasped.

That cheeky little shit! He was going easy on Tony to let him win?! Oh no, Tony didn’t think so! There will be no more going easy! The kid wanted war? He’ll get a war.

But despite that, Tony found himself fondly smirking. “Next time…”

Someone was watching him. Tony looked out of the window just in time to see a blur of red and blue disappear behind a wall of the house on the other side of the street.

“Sure, kid. See you next time.”

#tony stark #peter parker #villain tony stark #villain irondad #amnesia #amnesiac peter parker #temporary amnesia #peter parker is a little shit #reluctant caretaker #irondad #spiderson #irondad and spiderson #marvel fanfiction #head injury #memory loss

29 notes · View notes

penaltbox · 4 years

Text

the hills - jack hughes

warnings: mentions of cheating, drug use in sports, and using unhealthy coping mechanisms. this really isn’t any representation of how i think he is, he’s just the guy i picked for this idea.

based on the hills by the weeknd. if you like it send some feedback or reblog :)))

word count: 4.4k

You can’t help but laugh at the stupid joke your friend just made at your expense about Eric always being gone for work. You’re ready to send a smart remark her way but your phone lights up and the notification has you freezing.

Jack.

Your breath catches in your throat at the sight of it. His name is purposefully kept simple in your phone to try and pass him off as unimportant, like a forgotten group project member from a class you were well over with, but he was so much more than that.

Lexie clears her throat quietly and nods down at the phone. She was all too aware of who Jack was and what him texting you meant. Luckily your other friends had no clue and they hadn’t caught on to why you’d gone quiet suddenly. You bite your lip and look back at them, trying to put yourself back into the conversation, but you had lost them while you were in your own little world.

Your phone buzzes again and you sigh, picking it up. You knew if he was sending multiple texts that it was only a matter of time before he’d show up at your place and you didn’t really want to explain to your friends why this boy was suddenly on your doorstep.

‘Busy tonight?’

‘I can be over in 20’

You glance up at Lexie and find her already watching you so you turn the phone towards her and she nods. Jack usually didn’t take no for an answer and you were sure tonight was no different.

“Ladies, why don’t we grab an Uber and head to that new restaurant that just opened? I heard they have some awesome mixed drinks,” Lexie bluffs, buying you a way out so he could come over.

They all agree quickly, but you decline, saying you’re not feeling too well all of a sudden. Your friends laugh, making up reasons why you want out of what was supposed to be a long awaited girls’ night. None of them are right though and it’s only because Lexie won’t weigh in with the truth, thank God.

You entertain everyone a little longer, walking them to the door when the car pulls up outside. They all file in, but Lexie hangs back for a second. She gives you a hug goodbye but holds you for an extra second.

“You better figure out who you want more because you know Eric will end up finding out about him eventually,” she mumbles, “and I don’t want to see you get hurt.”

You sigh because you know she’s right. Jack was only supposed to ever be a one night stand, but he’d turned into a 5 month ordeal at this point. You give her a tight smile as she joins the rest of the girls and you wave them off.

Heading back inside, you put all the glasses near the kitchen sink, making a mental note about emptying the dishwasher later. You pick your phone up to check and see where Jack was but a knock on your door answers it for you. With a deep breath you head over, never quite ready for all the feelings that came with seeing him. He had some sort of hold on you that you could never explain but you couldn’t get enough of it.

You swing the door open, exchanging your nerves for a smirk as you see the slightly younger boy on the doorstep, “hey you. Come in.”

Jack does exactly that, his arm coming around your waist as he leans down to kiss you hard. You can’t help but grab onto him, arms finding their way around his shoulders as he picks you up suddenly. You hear him slam the door behind you two as he carries you to the kitchen, setting you down on the island but staying between your legs.

“Hi,” he finally says once he lets you pull back a bit. He’s got a smile on his face that makes your heart stutter. He was always a little cocky and a whole lot clingy when he was with you but you loved the combination.

You fake pout, playing with the hair at the nape of his neck, “you interrupted girls’ night, Jack.”

“Aww, I did?” He asks, one hand already slipping under your shirt but only to rest on your hip, “does that mean you and I can’t have a drink first?”

“House is mine all weekend,” you answer his unasked question, nodding towards the liquor cupboard behind him.

His eyes light up a little at your admission and he slowly untangles himself from you, though you know it won’t last long. If you had to guess, you figured Jack’s love language was physical touch with the way he hardly ever let you go when you two were together.

He starts to rifle through the shelves, pulling your usual bottle of wine down for you and you force yourself not to think about how he was starting to become comfortable and familiar with your world. He grabs a bottle of something stronger for himself and you know you’ll have to refill whatever he takes.

With a glass poured for both of you, Jack turns around and hands you yours. He raises his glass up for a toast and you laugh lightly.

“What’s the toast for, Hughes? You sign a big contract or something that I don’t know about?” You tease, but raise yours as well.

“No,” he says, blushing a little at your tone, “just a toast. To us, I guess.”

Us. It’s a phrase that shouldn’t exist. There should be no ‘you and Jack’ at all but there definitely is and you didn’t think you were strong enough to shut that down any time soon. Truth be told, you didn’t want to. You’d rather date Jack but he’d made it clear he wasn’t in the right place for commitment yet in life.

You ignore the issues, like you usually did, and clink your glass with his, “to us then. And all the fun that comes with it.”

Jack takes a drink of his own mixture and you’re almost shocked at the amount he takes down. You reach out and put a hand on his arm.

“Whoa there. We’re in no rush here tonight,” you remind him, “are you okay?”

“Of course I am. I’m here with you.”

The statement has you blushing now and you set your glass down so you can pull him closer. You liked the way you were basically the same height when you sat on the island. It made things a lot easier and gave you the chance to make a move rather than leaving the control up to him.

“You are here. How’s hockey been?” You ask, like you hadn’t watched every game this season so far.

Jack shrugs, stepping in close again as he finishes his drink and sets the glass over with yours, “it’s okay. I’m more interested in you right now though. Maybe tonight we can update that amazing Polaroid I keep in my wallet.”

Your face feels hot when you remember the picture he’d taken of you one night and tucked away for himself. You knew where it was in his wallet and you knew the wear marks had gotten bad over his last few road trips.

Yeah, you two were the definition of fucked up, if you had to weigh in on it.

“I bet you’d like that, huh?” You ask, grabbing his shirt and tugging him the rest of the way towards you.

It’s easy to kiss Jack, to let yourself get lost in him. You weren’t sure when you realized it, but kissing him was easy and fun. You found yourself wanting to do it all the time, so when you did have him all to yourself you let it happen as much as possible. He knew exactly how to kiss you, exactly when to slide his tongue into your mouth, and where to trail the kisses when he wanted to make you shiver under his touch.

He seems to be moving faster than usual, his kisses shortening as he moves his lips across your jaw and down your neck. You tug on his hair a little, trying to get him to look at you, but he seems to ignore it. You press a hand to his chest and try to push him back.

“Jack,” you say firmly, finally getting him to settle down and look at you, “what’s your hurry today? Can’t we just enjoy this?”

He rolls his eyes but pulls you closer to the edge of the counter, “why slow down? You haven’t seen me in a week. Aren’t you ready to go?”

You sigh, looking over his features, and see how exhausted he looks. It’s always just a hookup to him and you have to remind yourself of that. Just because you started catching feelings didn’t mean that he did. You ignore it though, and nod at his last question.

“Can we go upstairs then?” He asks, hands slipping under your shirt as he lets his fingers dance lightly up your sides.

You shiver a little and his smirk grows, but you mumble, “hmm, I guess we could.”

It’s all he needs to hear before he’s tugging you off the counter and nudging you towards the stairs. You reach back without looking and his hand grips yours almost instantly. You didn’t even have to look to know he was close and sometimes it scared you how easily you could find each other.

You push open the door to the guest bedroom, never daring to take your activities into your actual bedroom, and you turn around to find Jack watching you intently. You want the upper hand this time though, so you nod your head at the bed.

“Your turn for some attention. Come here,” you say, trying to sound as nice as you could, but you know it sounds coy.

Jack obliges you happily though and crowds your personal space, his back towards the bed. You reach up to push him back, hands finding his sides and pressing into him. The quick wince from him as he grabs your right hand scares you and you back up suddenly.

“Jack? What’s wrong?” You ask, your eyes looking him up and down as you try to figure out what just happened. You realize suddenly that it’s what's under his shirt that made him react so quickly.

You reach for the hem of his shirt and tug it up above his stomach, finding a bruise blooming above his left hip. It’s all different colors and you know he got it from a game. You reach out, just barely grazing your fingers against his skin.

“Don’t,” he says through gritted teeth as he grabs your hand, “it’s fine.”

“Fine? That doesn’t look fine at all,” you scoff.

“I handled it,” he says and you instantly know what he means.

He’d gotten them before and at first you had no clue what they were. Toradol shots were still given out like candy in the league and Jack had gotten them before he even realized what they were. He started getting them pretty often and last he’d told you, he was going to try to get an alternative means of pain relief.

“I thought you were done with those. How long ago did you get this one?” You ask, still not taking your eyes off the bruise.

“Three hours ago,” he whispers and your gaze immediately shoots up to his face.

“Three hours?” You ask, fighting to keep your voice lower, “you used to last six hours on those. Are you taking them that often?”

“Don’t fucking worry about me!” He snarls, pushing his shirt back down, “You don’t get to judge me either. Do you forget whose house we’re in? I’m not the one cheating on someone here.”

You swallow hard and look away from him. There was no denying that comment stung a lot and your fight or flight had turned to the latter. You know Jack had a tendency to get mean when he got backed into a corner about something he didn’t want to talk about but you always seemed to push it just a bit too far with him. You were left to regret it instantly when he bit back.

“Can we just do what we normally do? I don’t want to fight with you,” you ask, much quieter now than a few moments ago.

He sighs and nods, reaching for your hand before he leans in to kiss you. You let him do what he always really came for and offer yourself up in the only way you knew how to be there for him. He wasn’t good at letting you in normally, but sleeping with him was different. He was all about actions rather than words.

He always took his time when it came to sex. He’d undress you first, giving you attention until you’re begging, and then the egotistical part of him would ensure that you always got off. It was bragging rights for him basically but those ones at least benefited you as well.

What never failed to surprise you was that he always let you hold him after. It’s like he needed it, but couldn’t verbalize it, so when he rolls onto his side and pulls you close you let your lips find his forehead as he presses his face into the crook of your neck. You know that’s when you get the real Jack. The one he’s too afraid to show you during the daylight. You’re not sure if it’s the painkillers finally kicking in or the alcohol hitting him just right after he’d gotten off, but he’s so much more affectionate and human in those moments.

“I swear I’m gonna talk to doc about getting pain treatment a different way,” he mumbles, his arm that’s wrapped around you tightening a little as he says it.

You lean back to look at him and push his hair out of his eyes, “that sounds like a good idea. I’m sure he’ll be able to help you out.”

A smile flashes across his face but it’s gone just as quickly as it showed. He sits up then and glances back at you, a look on his face that you can’t quite figure out.

“I need to go,” he says, swinging his legs off the bed and starting to pull his clothes back on.

You sit up, holding the blanket tight around you as you watch him. You wished you could say something or ask him to stay even, but you knew better. As much as you hated seeing him leave, there was really no other option. You have to take a deep breath to make sure your feelings don’t come flying out of your mouth before it’s too late to stop them.

Jack pulls his shirt back on and turns back towards you, kneeling on the bed to lean over and give you a few quick kisses before heading for the bedroom door.

He grabs the handle and hesitates, looking over his shoulder with the same look you couldn’t make out when he’d sat up in bed. He almost looks upset, but his shoulders aren’t tensed up like they are when he’s upset after a game. You feel your stomach turn but you have to ask.

“Is everything okay, Jack?”

He pushes a smile onto his face and nods, “yeah, it’s all good. I’ll see you around.”

You return the smile and watch him finally go, falling back into the empty bed that you were always left with. Things always felt a little more empty once Jack was gone.

—

“This place is packed,” you raise your voice, leaning in so Lexie can hear you better.

She nods, looking just as displeased as you, “I know, but Sam wanted to come here for her birthday so we just have to fake some fun for a couple hours and then maybe we can get everyone to go somewhere else.”

Clubs weren’t typically your thing but Lexie swore she’d stick by your side that night since the both of you would much rather be at home with wine and a blanket. Instead you were trying to make your way to a bar that had layers of people at least three deep trying to get their drinks.

Lexie bites the bullet and goes up first to get you both drinks and you look around the room, trying to get your bearings for where things were. You find a back exit, the bathrooms, and what looks to be a VIP section. It’s not a normal VIP section though because there’s no one preventing people from going in or out of the area so you shrug it off and wait for your friend to return.

“To being newly single and Sam’s birthday for getting you out of your apartment!” Lexie smiles, handing you your drink and holding hers up.

You laugh and happily clink your glass, taking an even bigger drink than you’d intended when you suddenly remember the last person you’d done a toast with.

You hadn’t heard from Jack since he left after giving you that odd look. Maybe he wasn’t handling the pressure of the season well and just needed to be in his own head space. That was the excuse you kept telling yourself anyways. You’d broken things off with Eric once he’d gotten home from his work conference because you knew you didn’t have feelings for him the way you did for Jack. Not that you had any right to, but since when did anyone’s heart ever listen to logic?

“Should we try and find a table?” Lexie asks, having to really raise her voice to be heard now.

You nod, knowing it was almost impossible to speak up and have her hear you so instead you head a little farther into the club, trying to move towards the wall. You get a bit of a clearing then and you both let out a sigh.

“I thought we were about to die in there,” you laugh, the noise level lower in the back part of the room.

Lexie snorts and opens her mouth to respond, but the way her eyes go wide over something she sees behind you makes you nervous. You turn to check what she’d seen and it’s almost instant that you find what caught her attention. Jack is standing there, back near the VIP area, with a pretty little thing pressed against the front of him. She’s trying so hard to get his attention but you know from the look on his face that he’s not hearing a word she says.

Your heart sinks a little at the sight of him. He was obviously available to other people, but he hadn’t been able to make any time for you. You scold yourself immediately and turn back to Lexie.

“He hasn’t reached out. I should just leave him,” you say, but there’s an itch suddenly under your skin from knowing how close he is.

Lexie raises an eyebrow at you and glances back at Jack, “you’re kidding, right? I bet if you went over there right now he’d send that girl packing and talk to you.”

She’s not wrong but those weren’t the words you wanted her to say to you. What you needed to hear was that you should leave him alone because he hadn’t tried to see you. You chew on your lip as you think over what Lexie had just said and glance at him again.

He meets your gaze this time but it’s like he’s seeing right through you. The look alone is enough to have you turning around and heading in his direction. He sidesteps the girl who was trying to talk to him and meets you halfway. His hair is starting to get long and he definitely hasn’t shaved in a couple days, but you can’t tell that until he’s closer.

“You look hot,” he smiles, leaning down a bit so you can hear him better. He looks rough and you can smell the alcohol rolling off of him as he presses so close to you it’s hard to think straight. The glass in his hand is empty save for one last drink of the dark liquid. This isn’t the Jack you were used to. This was someone else entirely.

“Thanks,” you say, not used to him using that phrase to describe you, “who did you come here with?”

He frowns and looks around the room, “uh, I don’t know. I think Nico maybe?”

Your worry only grows when he can’t give you a straight answer, “are you sure you’re okay here? Do you need to leave maybe?”

“Stop,” he groans, running a hand through his hair, “why do you care so much? I treat you like shit but you still come back. Why?”

“I don’t know. I can’t help it, I guess,” you shrug, suddenly feeling a little uncomfortable.

Jack’s eyes are a little glassy and he seems to be focusing hard to keep his sight on you. He wobbles a little and you reach out, putting a gentle grip on his arm.

“No, don’t. I’m not what you want. Fuck, you deserve a real guy. Listen, I’m not the shiny new toy in the league anymore. Now I’m just some kid who can’t put up the right numbers,” he says, choking out a laugh that sounds hollow.

“Why don’t you let anyone help you? This doesn’t have to be something you do alone.”

His eyes roll back in his head as he closes them, sighing, “you don’t listen. You can’t fix me. What about that don’t you get?”

“Jesus, Jack, if you’d let people in then this wouldn’t be a fight right now. Where have you been lately even? You went missing after the last time you came over,” you try and change the subject, hoping whatever is coursing through his system allows you to redirect him easily.

“I got things taken care of. No more painkiller shots,” he smirks, like he’s really proud of whatever it is he’d done.

Something about the way he's still looking through you rather than at you has you doubting the source of his new fix. You refuse to ask, not wanting to know if he’d found something harder or what. You knew what type of things athletes could get involved with.

He reaches his hand up suddenly, cupping your cheek, and finally looking at you like he sees you, “you care about me so much,” he starts, his thumb gently rubbing your cheek, “and I care so fucking much, but I can’t be the guy for you. I wish I could because I’ve never had feelings for someone the way I do for you, but I’m too fucked up. I can’t take you down with me.”

You swallow hard as his words sink in and you’re sure people must be watching the two of you. You’re still pressed close and he can’t look away from you now. He knows his feelings for you border on being in love, but he meant what he said, even if his head was so fuzzy he could hardly remember where he was. He was always sure about you and his feelings for you though.

“Jack, I broke up with him,” you mumble, but somehow he still manages to hear you. Of course he heard you.

His face flashes with confusion and even a little bit of hurt, and it’s the most emotion you’ve seen from him so far. He swallows and opens his mouth before closing it again. He blinks hard and then seems to settle back into the blank stare he’d been sporting.

“You didn’t have to do that. He cared about you,” he finally replies, but he seems a little thrown off still. You can’t see it in his look, but you can certainly hear it in the slight waiver of his voice.

You nod, because of course you knew, but you tell him, “but he wasn’t you, J. He never could be.”

He can’t bring himself to respond but his bottom lip quivers a little. He has to force himself to zone out so he doesn’t break down and try to keep you all to himself. That wouldn’t be fair if he did. He knew he had to let you go even though he only wanted the opposite. You can tell he’s closing himself off and you realize he’s not coming back to you again.

“You know if you ever need me you just have to call. I’ll always show up for you,” you nod, forcing yourself to keep your cool. If you lost it you weren’t sure how he’d react because he certainly wasn’t in his right mind.

The lights in the club dance across his face, creating shadows on the left side of his features. You know it’s a little ironic but you look between the differences and see the two sides of him then. He wanted to be good. A good guy, a good hockey player, and a good boyfriend even. But the other side of him had taken too much already. Too many hits, too many drinks, and too many one night stands to feel like he could settle down with a good person.

“I’m gonna go, Jack. Don’t be a stranger. Please,” you tell him, silently begging him to ask you to stay.

Instead his hand drops from your cheek and he nods, leaning forward to kiss your forehead. You close your eyes and take it in for a second before he’s pulling away. You start to walk away to where Lexie is waiting and watching the entire thing. She gives you a comforting smile and holds her arm out for you to hide under.

She heads for the exit immediately, knowing you were done for. You can’t help but glance back at where Jack still was. He’s still watching you walk away, eyes locked on you but glossed over in a way that tells you he isn’t taking anything in again. The lights still reflect on his face, light and dark, and you know you have to let him go.

It’s just that everything felt a little more empty when Jack was gone, for you and for him.

#jack hughes #mine #my writing #new jersey devils #nj devils #nhl imagine #nhl fic #hockey fic #hockey imagine #usa hockey #tw: drug use

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literallymechanical · 3 years

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Well, are you going to fill us in on "why we are morally obligated as a species to some day blow up the Earth"? Sounds like a supervillain backstory

(This was originally inspired by qntm’s fantastic satirical essay, “To Destroy The Earth,” but I disagree with him on a few key points. I highly recommend checking out qntm’s fiction, particularly Ra, Fine Structure, and There Is No Antimemetics Division. Disclaimer: this is a thought experiment, I’m not actually going to destroy the Earth.)

Let us begin with this: you want to destroy the Earth.

That’s not a question or an instruction, that’s an axiom. A fundamental truth from which a logical system is built. It’s your Statement Zero, the singular concept from which the rest of these instructions are built: you want to destroy the Earth. You might not know why, and you certainly don’t know how. Trust me, you really don’t know how. Take all of your cultural knowledge of Death Stars and hyperspace construction crews and throw it out the window, because it’s not worth a clipped penny.

That being said, here are a few reasons to somebody might want to destroy the Earth:

You want to wipe out humanity

You want to wipe out some other species

General misanthropy

It’s obstructing your view of the Moon.

You want us to colonize Mars or Venus, and you figure this is the best way to get everybody on board.

These are bad reasons to destroy the Earth. If any of these sentiments resonate with you, please stop reading this essay. This isn’t for you.

Anyway, let's put a pin in the “why” for now. We'll get to it later. Let's tackle the "how" first.

To destroy the Earth, you need a Plan, with a capital P.

The shape of the Plan is extremely simple to define, much simpler than the relatively detailed (and, in my opinion, fragile) instructions others have outlined. It has just two parts.

Figure out how to destroy the Earth. This is defined as the Earth not being there when you're done—any chump with nuclear weapons can scour the Earth, you're trying to make the entire thing go away.

Destroy the Earth.

However, a lot of shapes are simple to define, but hard to draw. The Mandelbrot set can be defined by a single equation and a couple of instructions, but the result is a fractal. This Plan will be fractally intricate as well. We certainly can’t draw up the full Plan right now. We can barely even begin to draw the outline. Let’s take a quick stab at it anyway.

First of all, I don’t know how to destroy the Earth. We can speculate a bit, but we certainly can’t choose a method yet—you'll likely need multiple redundant strategies anyway. “Blow it up” is one idea, but the gravitational binding energy of the Earth is about 2*10^32 joules, and there is no conceivable technology that can handle that sort of power right now. “Launch bits of it into space one by one until there’s nothing left” sounds promising, though it will take a while. “Mess with its orbit until it’s close enough to the Sun’s Roche limit to get ripped to shreds” is a fun idea. Or maybe in the next million years, you'll come up with a better way.

The most important part of that statement is “the next million years.” It will take a very long time to figure this one out. A million years is a pretty good estimate, though if you'll proactive it might take as little as a couple hundred thousand.

That brings us to the hardest part of the Plan: making sure the Plan survives a million years.

Right now, you're in a precarious position. Climate change probably won’t entirely wipe us out, but it will likely disrupt civilization enough that the Plan will be lost. Nuclear war might actually cause us to go extinct. A killer asteroid certainly would. Therefore, the first thing the Plan needs to do is save the world. Reverse climate change, or at least halt it. Nuclear disarmament. Peace, or as close as we can get to it. Medicine, spaceflight, art, prosperity, happiness, survival—all part of the Plan.

Colonizing other planets, and eventually other solar systems, is also in the Plan. Not just for a backup in case of killer meteor, but also because when you do destroy the Earth, you’ll need somewhere to stand. Remember, you're not trying to wipe out humanity here! Just destroy a planet. This will be tricky. It’s very likely that there’s no such thing as faster-than-light travel, so it will take a while to spread across the galaxy. This might take up the bulk of the million-year timeline.

(Quick note: you may be tempted to conquer the Earth, or set yourself up as some sort of galaxy-spanning God-Ruler. In my personal opinion, this is a bad idea. Right now, empires typically last a couple hundred years before falling. Do you think it would be easier to hold on to multiple planets than just a bit of land around the Mediterranean? I believe that it’s best to have your Plan set up a system where people can survive and thrive without needing you.)

But as tricky as interstellar colonization may be, it’s still the easy part. The hard part is that the entire Plan has to reconstruct itself from scratch if everything goes wrong.

The Plan has to be the most massively redundant, self-repairing, and robust project humanity has ever undertaken, or will ever undertake. The Plan needs to be able to resurrect our entire species on its own, without human intervention, in case something goes wrong (e.g. nuclear war) and we all get wiped out. Here’s one idea: computerize the Humanity Reboot Protocol, stamp the code onto platinum bricks, launch a million copies into deep space and onto every rocky body in the solar system, and have it check back in every once in a while. You can have that one for free.

The Plan also needs to have a way to re-motivate humanity to destroy the Earth. Maybe that’s as simple as posting it to tumblr and having a lot of people read it, but it will probably be a bit more complicated. Crucially, the Plan does not have to be visible. Nobody actually needs to know that the Plan exists, if you’re clever enough. You might be tempted to turn it into a religion, but religions change and die. Remember: the Plan has to eventually pop off, no matter what we do to ourselves.

The Plan is now its own entity, both distinct from and deeply intertwined with humanity.

(As a side note, this begs the question: What if the Plan is already in effect? If it’s a good Plan, we wouldn’t be able to tell. What if some sufficiently motivated creature set things into motion ten thousand or a hundred thousand or a million years ago? Food for thought.)

Alright. So, enough time has passed, and you’ve figured out how to destroy the Earth. I use “you” loosely at this point. Maybe, against all odds, you’ve figured out immortality, or mind-uploading, cloning, whatever. More likely, you’ve been dust for a million years. That’s not important. Regardless, “you” are standing on Mars or wherever and your metaphorical finger is hovering a metaphorical big red button marked “DESTROY THE EARTH.” Step 2 of the Plan.

Let’s pause here and go back to that pin from before: Why? Why are you destroying the Earth?

Well, a lot of reasons. If I were doing this, my Plan would include abandoning the Earth for other star systems and setting it up as some sort of museum. I'd take all the biosphere with me, of course, and make better Earths elsewhere. Imagine a hundred Earths, each of which are perfect nature preserves, or more! Imagine finding a good silica-heavy planet, turning it into molten glass, and sculpting it into something beautiful. Imagine spelling your name in an Oort cloud. Imagine an ocean planet full of whales.

Imagine coming back to a deserted G-type solar system with a few dusty rocks, an asteroid belt, and a handful of gas giants. Imagine breaking them down to make raw materials for a Dyson sphere.

Bam! Earth destroyed! You did it!

Maybe a paleontologist somewhere will figure out that this might be the planet where we first evolved, and it would be nice to put it somewhere safe. Hey, does that count as destroying the Earth? Where the Earth once was, there is now empty space. No more Earth! That sounds pretty destroyed to me. Bam! Earth destroyed! You did it!

Maybe your Plan is different, and the Earth is still inhabited. For what it’s worth, I hope you’ve made it a paradise, one of a thousand Edens across the galaxy. It would be a shame to blow it up… but if Sol-3 is just one paradise among many, what makes it significant? “Earth” is our homeworld, but now there are a thousand homeworlds, so what is “Earth?” What makes this one rock special? Nothing! You’ve successfully destroyed the entire concept of “Earth.” That might be harder than blowing up a planet! Well done! You did it!

In conclusion, here is why I say it’s a moral imperative to destroy the Earth:

Eventually, a baby bird has to leave the nest. Somebody needs to be the mom bird who lures her chicks off the edge, and it might as well be me.

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seacottons · 4 years

Text

uni!au with ateez — [ part one ]

—[ san - performing arts ]

ironically, you met when you helped him after a taller male shoved him down whilst in a heated argument.

he burst out laughing when you asked if he was okay.

“don’t worry, we’re just practicing our lines!”

you quickly glanced up at the building and grimaced once taking sight of the gleaming silver ‘performing arts building’ plaque.

of course.

to say you were embarrassed was only scratching the surface.

you had no regrets, because the incident was the catalyst that formed your friendship and eventual relationship.

will never let you live that moment down.

“remember when you tried to save me from mingi?”

“i thought we promised not to bring that up again-”

“why can’t i? i was saved by an angel that day?”

san invites you to both his dance and theatre shows.

will appear to be very professional on stage, but you catch his eyes frantically darting to the crowd to try and spot you.

and once he does, he will repeatedly smile and wink in your direction.

you’re always early, so you manage to snag a seat in either front two rows.

likes when you bring him bouquets as a congratulation gift after his performances.

gets very loud backstage just to let everyone know you bought him a gift.

a huge show-off.

is very good at facial expressions.

you fall for every time he pretends he’s crying or hurt when you don’t give him attention.

he will imitate different characters and repeat after actors while you two watch movies together.

“it sounded sexier when i said it, right (y/n)?”

is a very clingy cuddle bug.

and a leech.

will always have his arms around you while walking at campus.

loves to give you back hugs.

is the type to wait outside for you until you finish class.

and takes you to the cafeteria afterwards for lunch.

embarrasses you in said cafeteria by spinning the lunch tray while waiting in line.

also likes to spin your phone just to freak you out.

also the type to excitedly text you about the donuts and coffee they’re giving away at the library’s breezeway.

likes to refer to you as ‘angel’.

will beg you join the different clubs he’s in.

and then brag about you to the others once you do.

will hype your choice of attire even if he’s already seen you earlier that day.

the type to also sneak you a latte in the middle of your class.

also the type to sneak in with you during your auditorium classes.

you regret it sometimes because he leaves no room for you to pay attention to your professor.

often times, so much so that you have to lightly pinch his side in protest.

“do you want me to fail this class?”

he likes to participate in the many events held at campus.

everyone knows him.

challenges you to dance offs in the middle of campus.

you refuse and push forward a startled mingi instead.

“mingi wants to have a turn this time!”

also likes to lay in your arms whilst you play with his hair.

“were you a cat in your previous life?”

he will then proceed to meow in your ear.

“i’ll take that as a yes.”

—[ hongjoong - fashion design ]

dating him would consist of always admiring his new projects.

supplying him with unhealthy amounts of coffee.

trying out new pieces he made.

offering to carry his overly large portfolio binder sometimes.

sitting down and listening to him rant about how his roomates fail to wash clothes properly.

he has a guide taped to the washing machine with the different symbols of clothing labels.

“no, san, you can’t use shampoo as detergent.”

“but seonghwa finished all the detergent!”

using seonghwa’s lint rollers to remove all the fabric fibers stuck on hongjoong’s clothes.

you scold him while cleaning the bleeding scratches on his fingers from his sewing needles and pins.

“don’t worry, it’s nothing i can’t handle.”

“but i don’t like seeing you get hurt, you bum.”

you bought him strawberry bandaids because he thought they were cute.

sometimes, when he has time, he’ll custom make clothes just for you.

he insists on having multiple matching outfits.

will ask you to model his work for his social media page.

thinks you look best in skirts.

you’ll be the source of comfort during presentation week.

he’ll be a wreck whilst making a new collection.

but you’re always there to pick him back up.

most of the time, you’re the source of his inspiration as well.

you insist he shouldn’t sit for hours writing essays or sketching numerous ideas for future work.

but he’s stubborn as a mule.

nights with him include binge watching fashion shows or cute cartoons.

or painting your nails.

you both enjoy coffee dates when you have time.

he tells you he wants to open a fashion line one day.

you’re trying to stand still as he plucks numerous pins into the dress you’re trying on.

“what do you think i should call it?”

“hj couture? does that sound too basic?”

he pauses momentarily before spooling the leftover red thread.

“(y/n). i’ll call the line (y/n).”

—[ wooyoung - culinary arts ]

invites you to his dorm and cooks for you.

his apartment always smells of warm spices and comforting meals.

pretends his roommates’ teasing doesn’t affect him, but the tips of ears always glow red.

will always bring over leftovers he made in class.

“i just thought you wanted to try this mille feuille.”

“which one is better? the salted rosemary loaf or the oregano and olive oil one?”

loves to bake and cook with you.

will make your birthday cake from scratch and will go all out decorating it.

has an annoying habit of taking pictures of you mid-bite.

“delete that right now.”

“but babe, you look so cute.”

“jung wooyoung!”

will wrestle with you as you attempt to take his phone away.

“okay, look! i swear i’ll delete it!”

he saves it in a hidden folder.

calls you his ‘cupcake’ or ‘sugarplum’.

teases you nonstop when you fail at something in the kitchen.

“babe! no! gentle folds! you pulverized those poor blueberries!”

“but the instructions say to mix!”

“the dough isn’t supposed to be blue!”

he’ll whine nonstop about how much he hates baking bread in class.

“do you know how abnoxiously long the fermentation process is!? i’m losing my mind.”

will wave and yell your name to catch your attention if he spots you nearby at campus.

you hear him every time.

he’s just that loud.

drags you to new restaurants just so you can rate them with him.

also drags you to go cutlery shopping.

accidentally dropped a plate in the store.

and when the employee came sauntering in the aisle suspiciously-

“(y/n) did it.”

once gave you food poisoning by accident.

you never wanted to eat scallops again.

you don’t mind his hands smelling like garlic or ginger most of the time.

or stained with spices.

“turmeric is a bitch.”

“woo, who wears white while cooking with turmeric anyway?”

will show off and brag about his knife skills.

demands to race with you to see who can chop the vegetables the quickest.

“you’re going down, (y/n).”

“uh- i don’t think i ever stood a chance to begin with.”

he lets you win sometimes though.

will beg you to visit him at his part time job at the cute cafe not too far by.

you always try to when you have the time.

and when he finds out you went to the rival cafe across the street one day..

“on a scale of 10 to 10, how bad is kang yeosang’s cooking?”

“what?”

“answer the question, (y/n).”

“woo, it’s 3 a.m.”

the next day, you explained that you were merely invited by your classmates to that particular cafe because one of them was a former employee there.

he childishly ignored you with crossed arms and a subtle pout.

“your jajangmyeon is much better. they didn’t even like the food there!”

he finally perks up with a large smile.

“wait, really?”

you think he looks endearing with his apron and chef’s hat.

will post cheesy captioned pictures of you after serving you delicately decorated plates of food.

‘two delicious meals for tonight, hehe.’

“gross. did you really have to say that?”

—[ jongho - kinesiology ]

you met him at the university gym and instantly clicked.

found yourself months later agreeing to go out with him.

a giant goofball.

sometimes makes faces at you while you exercise across the gym.

makes sure you watch him when he deadlifts.

loves when you hype him up.

opens all the jars for you.

and cuts all the fruit for you.

“why use a knife when you have my hands, love?”

you nearly choked on your saliva when he punched open the watermelon.

“can we ever just have a perfectly sliced watermelon!?”

“no- unless i break my arm one day.”

insists you jog with him around campus early in the morning.

likes to practice wrapping elastic tape on you.

you own half of his hoodies.

takes you to watch basketball matches.

then challenges you to a match when you go on dates to the park.

will persistently tease you about your poor aim.

and will absolutely not let you have the ball for more than a few seconds.

“stop cheating!”

“i’m not cheating! you just suck!”

joined you in some of your elective classes.

will also wear sleeveless shirts because he knows how flustered you get while his sculpted muscles are on display.

“what did professor kim just say?”

“what?” you tore your gaze from his biceps to glance at his face.

“are you staring at my arms again?” he snickers.

“no,” you say too quickly, face heating quite considerably.

despite his teasing, he’ll always baby you and take care of your needs.

has the cutest gummy smile.

you like to call him your gummy bear.

he hated the name at first, but grew to accept it over time.

likes to randomly pick you up.

sometimes will throw you over his shoulder.

has a habit of patting your thighs.

sometimes asks you to sit on his back while he does push-ups.

your eye bulged at the sight of a mop of ruby hair.

“don’t say anything.”

“you like apples so much you dyed your hair red?”

“i lost a bet.”

“you look cute though.”

you tugged at his tresses, smiling as you admired the shade against his tanned skin.

“baby?” you brushed his bangs away to display his forehead.

“hm?”

“you’re the apple of my eye.”

“i’m-,” he sucked on his teeth and pursed his lips, face scrunching in a mock grimace, “i’m going to throw up.”

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theladyofmanyfandomsfanfiction · 3 years

Text

Spook-vengers Tower

Characters: Reader, Steve Rogers, Tony Stark, Bruce Banner, Peter Parker, Natasha Romanoff, Clint Barton, Bucky Barnes, Sam Wilson (all platonic)

Inspiration: Halloween!

Warnings: None.

Summary: Your plan to host a Halloween party at the tower was sabotaged and so, you enlist the help of the mighty Avengers. What could go wrong?

It had been perfectly planned out from decorations to the catering and music - that was, until Baron Zemo attacked the tower the day before. It was a futile, and frankly petty, retaliation that he knew he would lose given that all Avengers were stationed at the base. The villain was quickly tossed out but the damage had been done to the top floor where you were meant to be hosting a Halloween party for the children of New York as a charity fundraiser.

With less than twenty-four hours on the clock you thought that a full home of superheroes could be wrangled together for the common cause to help fix the mess.

Oh, how you were wrong.

Yes, they banded like a team. And yes, they allocated specific tasks.

The only problem was that they appeared to be working according to their own time and party design post-tower fight. Your only saviour was Natasha who you trusted to pick up a themed-cake from Hell’s Kitchen without a fuss.

With the Black Widow out on a dessert mission, you found yourself watching the rest of the team put up the ‘emergency’ decorations after a quick clean up of shattered glass and broken tables.

“I don’t know if I should be in the kitchen, (Y/n). It’s a stressful place.” Bruce confessed a little sheepishly. You would have taken sympathy on the doctor but the man with multiple PhD’s had the easiest job. All he needed to do was follow the recipe for all the cold treats - you even organised the ingredients.

“Bruce. There’s literally nothing to bake or measure. And if following instructions to mix melted chocolate is too hard then you really don’t have a promising career as a chef.”

You hadn’t meant for it to sound snappy but his complaint came across as meagre. Of course, despite being overwhelmed with the volume of things happening, you weren’t a horrible person and your eyes caught themselves on the short, tousled brown hair of their youngest member. Peter had been carrying orange and black chairs three times his weight across the room when he spotted you waving him over. The young boy quickly set the chairs down by an overturned table and jogged over.

“(Y/n), this is going to be an amazing party. What can I do to help?”

His peppy voice and eager eyes managed to coax a brief smile from you and you gestured to the scientist standing to your side. “Think you can give Bruce a hand in the kitchen with the party treats?”

“Halloween candy preparation with the Hulk?” Peter clapped his hands together. “Count me in!”

Bruce gave a nervous laugh as he led his chatty partner back towards the kitchen. You took in a deep breath and closed your eyes hoping that you hadn’t just added to your list of problems.

Ready to check on the rest of the preparation, you turned around and managed to take a step forward before Steve approached you with a pumpkin and a proud smile. He shifted the pumpkin ‘face’ around in his hands so you could see it.

“What do you think?”

A monkey - the man carved a damn monkey onto the hull of the vegetable. You glanced over his shoulder to the table and found that the primate wasn’t alone. It’s like he had created a pumpkin zoo.

“They’re meant to be scary.” You told him bluntly, no trace of an amused smile on your face. “Scary - not educational.”

Steve looked at his creation, shoulders and smile dropping a little. “Well, I thought that...”

“It’s pumpkin carving, you shouldn’t need to think when there’s less than fifteen hours until people arrive!”

The outburst came out louder than expected and drew the attention of the few in the room. Tony sauntered over and draped an arm around your shoulders, “You know, I think I might change my costume and just go as you. Honestly, it’s a lot more frightening.”

You heard a roar of laughter from the God of Thunder by the balcony and shot him a scathing look that made the man swallow down any further jests in pure fear. Tony gestured to the newfound silence, emphasising his point. “See?”

You lifted his arm and freed yourself from his carefree attitude with a huff. It was difficult enough that your earlier preparations were ruined and now the team - who usually had your back when villains rained hell - were treating this like a joke.

“Lighten up, (Y/n). We’re going to have a great ‘Spooky Town Monster Mash’.” Clint commented as he attached some fake cobwebs to an arrow. With his eyes cast down, he couldn’t see how furious you were when he got the name of the party wrong - and you had repeated it several times in the last week!

The avenger aimed his bow high above the elevator door and let it the loaded arrow fly until it hit its mark and splattered the white cotton messily against the wall. The only thing he succeeded in doing was jamming the doors as they attempted to close - the mechanics whirring and grinding loudly.

The Hawkeye pursed his lips and hummed at what had just unfolded. “I think your decorations are a little dodgy.” He assumed despite it being clear that his idea to use his weapons indoors backfired.

You were raging at this point and probably just about to scream at the top of your lungs when there was the distinct beep of an incoming message was heard through the room. A holographic screen appeared in the centre of the room with the familiar faces of Sam Wilson and Bucky Barnes. All eyes were drawn to it and Steve paused what he was doing as he stepped forward.

“Hey guys.” Sam greeted in a quick whisper, eyes glancing around the figures in the room before landing on the blonde-haired man. “We’ve tracked Zemo to an abandoned medical facility but he’s got more friends than the two of us can handle and-”

Suddenly, the Falcon was nudged aside as Bucky leaned in closer. “Did you carve a monkey on that pumpkin?” He asked with a frown. Steve glanced down at the orange vegetable in his hands and racked his brain for a response when Sam took charge of the call once more, pushing his co-Avenger out of frame.

“So, can you spare a helping hand?”

Straightening his shoulders, the Captain nodded. “I’m on it.” He confirmed and waved his hand to close the projection. He had just turned to ask if there were any volunteers when you stormed past him in a blur.

“I’ll go.” You said quickly, leaving no room to argue. “This tower is a nightmare.”

Almost two hours later, you found yourself wrapping the last five of Zemo’s henchmen together with some rope while narrating how their boss destroyed your event which was being ruined further by your friends.

“...so, you can’t blame me for wanting to throw one of them off the tower, right? All I wanted was a fun night for the children.”

The henchmen looked at each other confused and gave a small grunt in reply. It didn’t really answer you but at least it meant that they were listening. You fastened the rope together and began to talk again about classic Halloween parties when Sam and Bucky returned. They jogged past the knocked out soldiers until they reached you.

“Zemo took off.” Bucky sighed, head shaking with disappointment.

You couldn’t blame him or Sam, sometimes the bad guy got away but it just meant that you’d be ready to strike them down when they resurfaced.

“We’ll get another shot at him.” You smiled.

Sam nudged his friend in the metal arm and chuckled. “Come on, we’ve got a Halloween party to get to.”

And just like that - you remembered why you came on this mission.

“Can’t we just stay here or go out for a drink instead of going back home?” You asked only for Sam to laugh and shake his head.

“Not a chance. Friends don’t let friends attend party disasters alone.”

Bucky perked up at the change of topic and sent you a sympathetic smile. “(Y/n) you just took out twenty armed henchmen. The party has nothing on you.”

You would have stayed to argue the point further but it would have been futile as the duo refused to step back. With a reluctant sigh, you agreed to return to the tower and found yourself standing in front of the tenth floor doors, mentally preparing yourself for the chaos inside.

Alright, let’s get this over with. You thought and pushed the wooden panels wide open.

The first thing you saw was a bright orange and black banner hanging across the balcony window reading ‘Happy Halloween’. Then your eyes dropped lower to a confectionary table that was decorated and hosted party snacks, including a mystical bowl of fruit punch that sent plumes of smoke over the edges until it fell into nothing. Children were laughing and screaming and you noticed the spookily-carved pumpkins - not a monkey in sight!

“What the...?”

Tony strolled over and handed you a glass of red wine. “Welcome to Spook-vengers Tower.” He smiled, taking a sip.

You watched a few children run around and play while some pulled down the fake webs and others grabbed as much candy as possible. When you had left, this place was a shamble so the turn around was surprising until you spotted a few of the Avengers by the table.

“Nat put the fear of god into you, didn’t she?”

Tony smacked his lips together, enjoying the beverage. “Like you have no idea.”

Masterlist here

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drazzilder · 3 years

Text

A Hellish Encounter

By Drazzilder

ChaPeter 22: The Present

It’s been a day since the fight; Enji and his children are still in a waiting room. After the horn pierced your chest, you were rushed to the best hospital Japan has. Enji is doing his best to hold it together with the help of Fuyumi. Everyone just sits waiting for word from the doctor.

F: “Dad, he is going to be ok.”

N: “He has handled more before, like Fuyumi said he will be fine.”

E: “I don’t want to lose him.” he says trying not to cry. “The problem is I saw his eyes, they stopped glowing. I don’t know what that means but I know it’s not good.”

S: “I think I hear the doctor coming.”

D: “Me. Todoroki, I have some good news and some bad news.” He says as he walks through the door.

E: “(Y/N) is alive!?”

D: “Yes, but the bad news is we don’t know for how long; he is fully paralyzed and unconscious. If he does manage to live, he will never walk again. You might want to contact his family.”

E: “We are all he has. Can we see him?”

D: “Yes but I must warn you, seeing him in this state might be a shock, even for you.”

Enji’s family comes into your room. Once they open the door, they see what the doctor warned them about. There is about a dozen or so machines hooked up to you. Pipes and wires criss cross over your body and you lay there motionless. The only sounds are coming from the machines beeping and breathing for you. Enji walks next to your bed and falls to his knees. He tries to grab your hand but it is covered in sensors. Putting a hand to your head, first touching the newly formed horns but he then pets your head. He can’t hold it in any longer has he starts to cry on the bed. The only word coming out of his mouth is your name. The children are further back when Shoto notices a large figure sitting in the corner, crying.

S: “Zaheer?”

F: “What? How are you here? Shouldn’t you be inside of (Y/N)?”

Z: “I can’t, even if I tried.”

N: “Zaheer, what’s happening.”

Z: “Brilron put a curse on that horn. I have seen it only once before. It is a curse to separate me from (Y/N).”

F: “Well, can’t you go back in (Y/N)?”

Z: “It doesn’t work that way. The curse keeps us separated. I’m not sure how to break it. The big problem is that without me, (Y/N) will die.”

E: “WHAT?” He says finally breaking away from the bed.

Z: “I have to tell you a secret he has been keeping from all of you. The more he uses my powers, the more demon he becomes. His left eye is mine but is right eye shows the demon energy he is containing. We only discovered this after the stadium.”

E: “He was fine until now?”

Z: “I tried to stop him but when he saw you almost die, he gave into the power. DAMN IT!” He pounds his fist against his knee, causing the room to shake. “Why didn’t he listen to me? I never wanted to let this happen! I never wanted to hurt him!”

F: “What’s going on? Zaheer, tell us.”

Z: “Right now he is as fully demon as he can be. It has great power but it has a huge risk. If the power gets too much, it can over take him. Plus, if I leave his body permanently, he will die. It’s because of that cruel curse that demon put on him. I can’t go back, I can’t save (Y/N)!” He says looking at you lying in the bed.

N: “We saw you fight the demon and go back inside (Y/N).”

Z: “That’s more like a projection, and it is limited. When I am in that form my power is split in half between (Y/N) and I. I can split myself into multiples of myself, that’s the first time I tried using that power to leave one half inside of someone. It uses a lot of energy but it was the only thing I could think of to make sure the power wasn’t too much for him. I’m surprised he survived this long. The only thing keeping him alive right now is his will power but that can’t hold on forever.”

E: “The doctor said he was paralyzed, the horn didn’t hit is spine, did it? Or was the power too much?”

Z: “That’s the other secret he kept from you. The stadium incident took more of a toll on his body then he led on. Adam had no idea that what he was doing was hurting (Y/N). The amount of energy that was entering his body vaporized his spinal cord.”

S: “But he has been walking and moving this entire time!”

Z: With a sigh “He has been using his power of mind and body control. He uses it differently in his body, using it more like a puppet with strings of energy. It is basically a new spinal cord he created. Even if he somehow lives, without my power he will never walk.”

E: “You are telling me he has been using a quirk for 6 years straight. That’s impossible!”

Z: “That is correct. If his will power was strong enough to resist me, he has the will power to keep that quirk going for that long. That’s why his eye was always glowing, it’s because he was always using his power. It does have a drawback; he has to actively think about every move he makes, every single muscle individually. The amount of concentration it takes most people can’t even fathom. Even breathing has to be forced. When he teleports, he has to stop breathing to free up enough his brain. He can teleport just like he can at the stadium, he just can’t stop breathing long enough to do it. He even learned to think about breathing in his sleep. He didn’t want to tell you because he knew you would worry. I’m sorry you have to find out about it like this.” He says as tears begin to well up in Enji’s eyes.

E: Turning back to you still crying “(Y/N), why didn’t you tell me. I could have helped…”

During all of this, Sanji walks into the room and hands Fuyumi some papers. She apologizes for interrupting but says the family needed to see the papers and leaves. Fuyumi opens them and starts to read them as everyone awaits an answer.

F: “It’s…. it’s adoption papers.”

Everyone: “What?”

F: “It says here that (Y/N) has petitioned to adopt us as his kids.”

E: “Why would he do that?”

Z: “(Y/N) was going to ask you to marry him, Enji.”

E: “Really? When?”

Z: “After that day at Disney World when Shoto said he wasn’t family, (Y/N) wanted to change that. He went to adopt the kids. It took till now because he was working on becoming a citizen. He got the adoption forms filled out but he still had to wait. Before the paperwork came back, he went to have a wedding band made for you. It was made of a special alloy that changed color with a level of heat that only you could create.”

E: “He wanted to marry….me?”

Z: “He really does love you, more than anyone.”

Enji starts crying again, this time clinging to your arm. He is there for a few minutes while his children start hugging Zaheer while crying as well. No one notices the door open behind them.

“Enji, please don’t cry.”

He can only say one word: “Rei?”

Next Chapter

#A Hellish Encounter #endeavor x male reader #endeavor stan #endeavor fluff #enji x you #my hero academia enji #mha enji #enji x reader #enji x y/n #enji todoroki #endeavor

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girlmeetsliv3 · 4 years

Text

Lilies of the Valley X

A/B/O!BTS x Reader

Flowers can have different meanings depending on the flower shape, color, and method in which they are presented. Lilies are my favorite for such a simple flower can have so many distinct meanings.

“Flower essences encourage gentleness and nurturing. And can also calm an overly aggressive person. However, some have the opposite effects.”

Release Date: 06/19/20 @ 7 pm

previously ~ next

YN couldn’t remember the last time she had a check-up. It must’ve been right before she presented when her physician had explained to her, that everything pointed to her sub-gender being an Omega and not a beta. Granted there had been little time for her to dwell on it with her parents outside the door, but it didn’t make for a favorable experience. Her suppressants hadn’t been handled by a doctor, but rather a nurse in a quick drive-thru clinic for which she had to pay $15 every month. Considering how reckless YN had been she went through the suppressants a lot quicker than she should, but no one ever asked any questions.

The place she was at now was a lot nicer and even had some omegas as nurses which YN hadn’t seen much of. The nurse had asked Hoseok and Namjoon to stay outside for privacy reasons and the alphas had encouraged YN to contact them if she needed anything. Now all YN could do was wait. For what she wasn’t too sure, but a health check-up couldn’t hurt. Her phone served as a distractor, as did Rosé:

Rosé: Long time no see…

YN: Sorry I’ve been mia lately. I’ve missed you.

Rosé: I’ve missed you too. Also, you’ve missed so much

Rosé: I met someone!

YN: Who??

Rosé: He’s a beta. A nice beta. I just kinda ran into him one day and we started talking. Isn’t it amazing?!

YN: Yeah, that’s great.

YN locked her phone screen and glanced around the room. On the door, there were the typical pamphlets one would expect all ranging from various topics: sub-genders, presenting, mating, and starting a family. Maybe she should’ve felt something when she looked at them, but YN didn’t feel anything. Not anger or disgust. Not happiness or excitement. It was still far too early in their relationship to consider any of those things. Can it even be considered a relationship? The men were much more invested in it than she was, but then again that was to be expected. They shared a pack bond and YN had only recently started warming herself up to the idea of being with them. It wasn’t like she had much of a choice in the matter, but at least she was thankful the seven of them weren’t pressuring her into anything. Even if they were rushing a bit.

The door opened to a nice-looking woman wearing a lab coat, on the pocket was embroidered: Dr. Jun. “Hello, nice to meet you. I’m Dr. Hyoseong Jun.” YN felt herself relax at the warm aura that seemed to surround the woman. “I’m YN. It’s nice to meet you too.” The doctor outstretched her hand and YN shook it. Jun motioned for YN to lay on the exam table and went through the procedural check-up before motioning YN to sit back up. Once YN was comfortable, the doctor took a seat in her chair, attention fully on YN.

“So, what’s the reason for today’s visit?”

Oh. YN didn’t exactly know, but she took her best guess. “I had a bad heat and wanted to see if I could change my suppressants.”

Dr. Jun nodded, focusing her attention on the computer. “Have you ever had a bad heat before this?”

YN swallowed, unsure of how to proceed. Rosé had warned her not to hide these things anymore, but YN was afraid of how people would react. Then, again this was a doctor and confidentiality did exist. “I haven’t had a heat since I presented.”

“Oh?” This caught the doctor’s attention. “Is it something biological? Are you irregular in your heats?”

“Um, no.” YN shook her head, taking a deep breath before speaking again. “I just took my suppressants so I wouldn’t have a heat.”

If anything, the doctor seemed even more perplexed at YN’s explanation. “Does your mate know about this?”

“No, I wasn’t with them. My mates have a pack bond and one of the alphas bit me during our first heat so-”

“The lead alpha, correct?”

YN felt time stop, her words dying on her tongue. “No. It was the youngest. We both presented at the same time and he accidentally bit me.”

Dr. Jun nodded, “Yes, but did you share the heat with the other members?”

YN scratched her head, the memories of her first heat were kind of muddled. YN did remember the other’s being there, but not participating in it. “They were there, but Jungkook is the one that bit me.” Seeing the doctor’s confused expression caused panic to swirl in the pit of YN’s stomach. “I was told that the bite of an alpha doesn’t heal.” Dr. Jun shook her head. “That’s only true if the mating bond is completed. Did you complete yours?” Dr. Jun had stood up at this point and was walking towards YN. Noticing her panicked expression and the slight shaking of her hands. “N-no.” A million thoughts were bouncing around in YN’s head as she tried to comprehend what exactly the doctor was implying.

“Only a lead alpha’s bite can’t be healed. If that applied to regular alphas there would be a bunch of mated teenagers running around. I’m sorry, YN but I have no reason to lie to you.”

No, that can’t be true. It couldn’t possibly be. If it were true then that would mean Namjoon bit her. It would mean Jungkook was innocent. It would mean…

“It wasn’t an accident.”

Kim Namjoon was an anomaly. Born to two alphas his birth had been a challenging one: his mother barely surviving it and Namjoon being born two weeks premature. It was a miracle his mother had even conceived, but with the help of hormonal treatments, they had just barely managed. Still, he was a strong child and exceptionally bright. The pros of having two parents of the dominant sub-gender or so he’d been told growing up. None of those things mattered to him though because Namjoon always felt incomplete. Like a part of him was missing and it haunted him. Nothing ever satisfied him because he had no one to share it with.

His parents encouraged him to make friends and even develop crushes, but it was useless. No one was ever up to par with his expectations - no one felt genuine. Eventually, Namjoon learned the hard way that self-isolation at a young age could have devastating consequences and made him an easy target. Not just among his peers but family members as well. Many found Namjoon to be unnatural - alphas should not be together, much like omegas shouldn’t - his family looked for every reason to pick him apart and by extension his parents. Namjoon felt that was a ridiculous stance in general: sub-genders shouldn’t determine who you’re allowed to be with. However, these were unpopular opinions and not ones he could voice as a child without extreme repercussions.

Namjoon kept his head down and avoided people, having few friends, and closing himself off until his eleventh birthday. That was the day Namjoon presented. Alphas didn’t typically present at such a young age, but he’d always been peculiar that day. It wasn’t until he was taken to the doctor and given suppressants that Namjoon finally understood why he was the way he was.

"He must be a lead alpha. Only lead alphas present at such a young age." The doctor had spoken to his parents outside, unaware that Namjoon had his ear pressed to the door. "It means your son likely carries the pack bond. He'll have multiple mates and will be able to sense them." Namjoon had been so shocked at that statement, he merely fell when the door opened. The second he got home he researched everything he could on pack bonds and how they worked. It might not be the case, as it was extremely rare, but it didn't hurt to hope. That was the one prevalent emotion that filled Namjoon: hope. He didn't know why, but it just made sense to him. He wouldn't simply find a mate like everyone else - no they were destined.

Being so rare there was limited information about it. Most of it is pure speculation as most individuals with a pack bond weren't open to sharing their experiences online or those that did claim provided little proof. It didn't really matter as it would be just two weeks later on the first day of school that Namjoon would feel it: the smell, pull, tug that innate feeling that drove him away from his parents and towards the center of the large crowd. Standing there with an old grey hoodie and scruffed converse was Min Yoongi. Namjoon's nose immediately picked up on the light scent of myrrh coming from him and a thought popped into his head. Beta? Though that was impossible as it looked like Yoongi hadn't presented yet, still, something inside Namjoon knew.

It seemed Yoongi was on edge, but the second their eyes met the elder rushed towards Namjoon embracing him in a hug. “I’ve been looking for you everywhere.” It left both their lips simultaneously and both seemed shocked until Yoongi laughed it off. “I’m Min Yoongi. Nice to meet you, mate.” Namjoon had never felt happier.

There was still an ache there, a craving, but Namjoon ignored it for the most part. Then, he felt it again. The pull. The need. Namjoon had stayed late after school working on a project when the soft thumps coming from the dance room caught his attention. Now had he been thinking logically, he might have noticed Namjoon was too far away from the dance room to possibly be able to hear music. But he did and so Namjoon followed the sound towards the room and towards Jung Hoseok. Who froze mid-step the second Namjoon threw the door open, there meeting was a bit different: instead of rushing to meet him Hoseok simply stood shocked. As seconds turned into minutes, the only words that escaped Hoseok where “the fuck.” Before rushing to meet Namjoon and nearly causing him to fall.

The second they embraced Namjoon’s nose rubbed against Hoseok’s neck and he felt a strong citrus scent. Alpha. Was his immediate thought, but he didn’t share it with Hoseok too caught up in the moment.

Slowly Namjoon began to meet his mates: Seokjin, Jimin, Taehyung, and Jungkook. All of them experiencing the same reaction upon meeting him and once they meet each other the connection only strengthened. The group stayed together for seven years and it was easy too considering the school they attended housed an elementary, middle, and high. Despite them knowing what they were to each other they simply remained close friends. Best friends. At least until Jungkook entered High school. By then most of them had presented and Namjoon's hunches had been correct. Still, something unnerved him and the others, though they would never directly mention it, they weren't complete.

It was as if they had all spent years building an elaborate puzzle only for the final piece to be missing. It became increasingly frustrating and Namjoon felt the most guilty as no matter how hard he searched, nothing provided him with answers. It was two years of searching by him and the others, yet there had been nothing. No instantaneous connection. No pull or need. They were beyond content with each other but never satisfied. By then news had already spread that the group were mates and shared a pack bond, which didn't make their search any easier. It's a bit ironic how fate strikes. Or maybe it's cruel. Namjoon would argue it's both. For when the group stopped searching is when they found their missing piece.

Namjoon was in his senior year, Seokjin and Yoongi had already graduated but since they all lived together it impacted their relationship very little.

“Don’t overexert yourself.” Jimin stood in front of Jungkook, scolding him after the latter had practically collapsed once the relay was over.

“But hyung we won. That’s what’s important.” The youngest pouted adorably and Namjoon had to resist every urge to tease him about it. It didn’t really matter because someone would always do it for him.

“Aw. Jungkookie you’re so cute.” Taehyung spoke, ruffling Jungkooks hair. Soon enough the three of them began bickering between themselves.

Namjoon looked over the crowd trying to find Hoseok, who had left to bring them all snacks before their next game. It was sports day and in Yeong-gwang that meant another way to prove their superiority among other schools. Namjoon, despite his build, was never the athletic type but most of his mates were so they were drafted by the school to compete. He wasn’t going to complain since it meant he got to skip the dreaded clean up since Namjoon was technically a volunteer. By technically, it meant he got special perks because 4/6 of his mates competed and their families were the school’s biggest beneficiaries.

“Namjoon.” Taehyung stood in front of him, brows scrunched up. “I’ve been calling you for like ten minutes.”

Namjoon shrugged apologetically. “Sorry, I was distracted.” He ignored the fact that Taehyung hadn’t used honorifics figuring he’d punish him for it later.

“Please go find Hobi-hyung. We’re about to start soon.”

Hoseok was likely in the refreshments section were there currently stood a large crowd of people from his school and those visiting. However, Namjoon didn't head over there preferring instead to take a long way and pass through the lily garden. It was the school's pride and joy, one of the largest privately-owned collections in the country. Most of the students didn't really care for it, but all of them respected it. Sometimes kids from other schools tried to sneak in and vandalize it, but it was only accessible through a key card or a code: one every student had. Namjoon didn't know what led him to the garden only that he had a strong urge to see it.

It was when he saw the gate unlocked and the door opened that he panicked a bit. Rushing inside to make sure no one had sneaked in - then he saw her. She wore the school’s uniform with a denim jacket on top. A red sash with the words ‘volunteer’ draped across her body. Namjoon’s heart began to race as his eyes began to water. Finally, he’d found her. The missing piece. His last mate. Slowly, she turned around facing Namjoon with a confused expression. There was a hint of recognition in her eyes and Namjoon expected that any moment now she would run and embrace him. Tell him how she had longed for him and the others the way they had for her.

“Excuse me. Why did you lock the gate?”

Namjoon was taken aback, struggling to get any words out. “What?” She marched towards him, but instead of running into his arms she sidestepped and went around him. Opening the gates back up and leaving. Namjoon stood still for a moment or two before he gave chase. He tried to be inconspicuous but knew it likely didn’t seem that way from an outside perspective.

“YN! There you are.” A group of girls reached her before Namjoon could, embracing her and pulling her away. The slight action caused a hint of her scent to reach him, lilies consuming his senses as another thought prevailed. Omega.

“Are you certain?”

“I saw her, hyung.”

“And she didn’t react?!”

“No. She just walked past me.”

“Did you at least get her name, hyungie.”

“YN. She must be around Jungkook’s age.”

Silence surrounded all of them back in their small apartment. Namjoon ran his hands through his hair, feeling frustrated. Seokjin felt conflicted at everything that was happening. Namjoon had never been wrong, but YN’s lack of reaction would imply that he was. Maybe she simply knew their mate or spent a long time around them and that is why Namjoon picked up the scent. Then again that seemed like too much of a stretch. Yoongi thought about everything, what were the odds that their mate would be right there in front of them the entire time. Then again, they had all been in the same place and it hadn’t been until Namjoon presented that they’d felt it. Still, Yoongi had felt the bond long before he presented.

“What is she?”

Namjoon turned to face Yoongi, “What do you mean?” He knew exactly what Yoongi meant, but wasn’t sure if he should share that kind of information.

“What is her sub-gender?” Yoongi persisted, trying to grasp if that played a role in it. Maybe she was an alpha and just didn’t pick up Namjoon’s scent. Perhaps she’d recently presented -

“She’s an omega,” Namjoon muttered seeing the way their expression shifted. No one they knew was an omega or at the very least no one in the school had yet to present as one. Given the difficulties, omegas often faced it would be difficult for someone from an omega family to be able to enter their school. Not to mention how difficult pure omegas were to come by. “She hasn’t presented yet.”

Hoseok who had remained quiet thus far spoke out, fully aware that his words might only worsen the situation. “I’ve never heard of an omega in a pack bond.” At this Namjoon became frustrated, “Do you think I’m lying?!” Jimin rushed to comfort him. “No. That’s not it. We’re all just confused, maybe there’s someone who could provide us with answers.” Namjoon had someone in mind but wasn’t sure if they would help at all. Seokjin cleared his throat drawing all their attention, “That’s all fine and well but we should meet her first, no?”

“Excuse me, YN!” YN turned around to see a much taller boy running to her at full speed. Once he reached her, he stopped and smiled. “Sorry. You’re YN, right? Kevin sent me to get you because you forgot to put your student id in the volunteer form so they can’t give you the hours.” YN’s weight shifted on her feet, “Oh. Um, how did you find me then?” The boy kept smiling, but there was a bit of an edge to it now. “You wrote down your fifth period and Kevin described you to me.” YN was still hesitant to give a random stranger her student id, even if he did look harmless enough and had an office pass.

“Look, I know this looks sketchy and normally we’d just contact the teacher but Professor Wei isn’t answering his phone and their inputting the hours today.” YN sighed, that did sound like something Wei would do. “Alright, do you have somewhere for me to write it down?” The boy grinned and for a brief moment, YN thought about how adorable the smile was. Almost bunny-like.

“It’s her.”

“I told you so.”

“I can’t believe we actually found her.”

“We can finally be complete now.”

“...but why didn’t she react with Kookie either?”

“Maybe it has something to do with her being an omega? Maybe she’ll feel the bond once she presents.”

“So we wait, then? That doesn’t feel right.”

“No, we can still get close to her we just don’t announce our intentions outright.”

Namjoon agreed, “Eventually she’ll feel the bond. She’ll come to us and everything will be made right.”

Dr. Kang looked down at the seven men who had all crowded into his study. Kang had become a sort of confidant for Namjoon ever since he presented. Being a professor in sub-gender studies and specializing in mythology caused Namjoon’s parents to seek him out in an effort to aid their son. Though the nature of their relationship was meant to be purely transactional, Kang did eventually develop a soft spot for the boy. One not born out of mere scientific interest. Kang had been there when Namjoon had met all the others and though never directly meeting them, he knew of them. Knew enough. Enough to know that the pack bond couldn’t be completed as they had yet to find their last mate. Unfortunately, it seems it would never be completed.

“I’m sorry to be the bearer of bad news, but omegas can’t have a pack bond.” The look in all seven of their eyes, made Kang feel as if he had just plunged a spear through their heart. “But I felt it. We all did.” Namjoon insisted and Kang had to agree. “That may very well be true, but it is impossible for an omega to feel the bond. It isn’t biologically possible, at least not in any text that I’ve seen.” They all remained silent, letting the information sink in. Kang felt pity for them all, he truly did. Pack bonds were a rarity and beauty. To be left without a mate all the while knowing who they are must damage one’s soul. Not to mention psyche.

“What do you mean it’s not biologically possible,” Jungkook questioned, his hands fisting the dark material of his jeans.

“Well,” Kang cast a look around his office searching for the specific book he had in mind. “All omegas are pack omegas. Legends tell us this is from a time before alphas could breed with each other and beta pregnancies were risky. Male omegas were also high in abundance, so all omegas were forced to mate in order to ensure the survival of the pack.” In Kang’s opinion, it was little more than a glorified abuse tale, but it did help to explain the situation. “Due to this omegas didn’t typically mate. So, the pack bond didn’t truly apply to them.” Kang sighed, “Obviously, omegas can mate. It affects them the way it would any other sub-gender, but since there is no historical evidence of omegas experiencing the pack bond it’s best to assume it is impossible.”

“So what then?” Taehyung asked, clearly agitated. “She won’t recognize us?! She won’t want to be with us?!”

Dr. Kang shook his head, “Not unless it’s of her own merit. If you can convince her to be with you, then you all can mate and the pack bond will be complete.”

“And if not?” Namjoon raised his head out of his hands. His voice deep and eyes hollowed. Kang was aware it wasn’t directed at him, but it was terrifying nonetheless.

“Then she will present, meet, and mate with someone else. There’s nothing you can do about it. The law will only allow the breaking of a mating bond if it is consensual.”

Dr. Jun reached over hesitantly and touched YN’s shaking hands. “Are you alright?” YN was unable to answer. Instead, she shook her head hoping the doctor would understand. “I see. Do you want me to go get your mates?” No! YN’s hands latched onto Jun’s not letting her go any farther. “I’m sorry if anything I said scared you, YN. That was not my intent. There are a few questions, I would like to ask you, however.” There was a knock on the door, an urgent one, and YN froze in fear. Tentatively June excused herself, heading towards the door. It was the omega nurse looking visibly anxious.

“I’m sorry to bother, but your next patient is here and it’s an emergency. Something wrong with the baby.”

Dr. Jun gasped, “Oh dear. Alright, I will be there soon.” The door closed and Jun turned to face YN. “I’m so sorry dear. I’m afraid I have to cut this a bit short.”

“I understand. Thank you for your time.” The response just slipped out, YN not having put too much thought into it.

“I’ll get you off suppressants and ask for your alphas to be put on rutters. Be sure to schedule an appointment if your heat is off again.”

YN nodded, slipping off the exam table and walking towards the door. Her phone in her back pocket vibrated and YN slipped it out typing the message fast without thinking of the possible consequences. Then as she neared the exit, she deleted the message and turned her phone off. YN pushed open the door to see both Namjoon and Hoseok still sitting in the waiting room, smiles on both their faces.

“Ready to go?”

“Yup.”

YN: Come to my place tomorrow at noon. Say it’s an emergency don’t give up until they let you in. If they refuse, call the cops and show them this message but don’t show the guys.

Hope you enjoyed ~~~

Tag List:

@hxsxxk-180294 @saxpam24 @trixsterbi @mel-gonzalez07 @cstobitk @dionysus-png @taekimxx @moonlitehunter @joonie-grim @wonderlace19 @sugashaye @rosey-roseu @mintaemark @ciderxi @soloikeadates @alex--awesome--22 @ruth619 @tinger-k @thenyousaidhello @missseoulite @justdidabadthing @ireallylikefoodandyoutube @letmebeyour-sun @lyoongx @kpopfictrash @purpuravm @unsureofwhathappens @blank-et-noir @thatchampagnebitch @nooooooooona

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starlight-vixen-emiko · 3 years

Text

Lukanette June 2021 Day 26 - Do Not Disturb

Another for @lukanettejune

Thank you lovebug community for your support. Because of you lovely lovebugs I was encouraged to post this...I just hope it doesn’t suck too much I edited it a few times and it’s late...I just wanna post.

I think the alternate title for this fanfic is “The Laws of the ‘Do Not Disturb’ Sign,”

Also this may just be my first Alya salt...Then again a majority of my Miraculous fanfics are alternate universe where Alya is a much better friend.

But this fanfic still contains Alya being Alya. And if you can’t handle Alya being Alya (like I can’t!) then you may want to advert your eyes!

Also as you lovebugs may have suspected from my preview...There is a few instances of sexual innuendo...Nothing big enough for me to slap on the mature rating though...

So without further ado...

"What are Marinette and Luka doing?" Alya asked.

Marinette and Luka and all their friends were all vacationing at a resort. Alya and Nino decided to meet up with Marinette and Luka at their hotel room.

Although it is 9:30 in the morning, their hotel room door already has a "do not disturb" sign hanging on the doorknob.

Alya and Nino were absolutely bewildered.

"I know Luka and Marinette have a sickenly sweet romance, but this is ridiculous!" Nino said.

Alya was ready to disregard the sign and knock on the door, but Nino took her hand before she could knock.

"We should respect the rules of the sign," Nino said. He was a bit disturbed thinking about what Luka and Marinette could possibly be doing at this time of the day.

Alya was also ready to text them, but Nino encouraged her not to.

"They don't want to be disturbed Alya, I think that includes phones!" Nino said.

Alya ignored her and tried to call Marinette, but a revelation hit her like unexpected rainfall.

"Her phone is on 'do not disturb' too!" Alya cried.

"Must be serious," Nino said.

Alya sighed, and she and her boyfriend decided to leave, but she stopped for one moment to look back at the door.

"Well, we came to the resort to vacation, so they better not ditch us for the sake of wrecking a hotel room!" Alya cried, not caring if hotel guests passing by gave her slight side-eyes.

Nino placed his hand on his girlfriend's shoulder. "It could be anything, Alya."

But after two hours, their other friends started to wonder when Alya single-handedly told everyone. Marinette and Luka were still nowhere to be seen.

Adrien and Kagami started to stop by next, and the two of them stared at the door for a good 3 minutes, wondering just what on earth the two were up to.

"We should respect the law of the 'do not disturb' sign," Adrien said.

Kagami pouted slightly. "All of us are about to eat lunch. It would be strange if Marinette and Luka weren't present."

Adrien gave his girlfriend a worried look.

"A simple knock shouldn't hurt," Kagami said.

Adrien didn't feel like arguing because he did agree with her. He and the guys were already causing lots of fun mischief at the pool, and it wasn't the same without his best friend, Luka. And now Luka and Marinette were skipping out on lunch.

Kagami made a gentle but firm knock. 5 agonizing minutes passed as if nobody was inside.

"Nothing!" Kagami cried, slightly irked now.

But the sound of that knock was blocked out by the sound of Marinette's sewing machine. She was sewing many sun hats for some clients while her boyfriend Luka was helping whichever way he could.

Marinette wiped the sweat off her forehead, frustrated that she was given projects to work on the first day of the vacation but determined to finish the projects anyway.

Marinette smiled as her blue-haired boyfriend gave her some ice tea and a towel like a guardian angel.

"Pace yourself Marinette, you can always finish this tomorrow," Luka said. "I am sure our friends will understand…."

Marinette went to work making giant butterfly hair clips. "Luka, the reason I suggested putting 'do not disturb' on the door and on our phones was that I knew our friends would bug us."

"I know they love us, but this is an important matter, and I need to be away from everything right now and give my 110%..."

Marinette stood up and gave Luka a quick kiss on the cheek before returning to super gluing model butterflies on hair clips. "Except for you, of course."

Luka blushed.

"You have been amazing, absolute perfection, and I know I will finish these art projects by evening," Marinette said.

Luka smiled at her and sat on the bed, but Marinette took a moment to rub her stomach.

"Ok, I wish I was eating at the buffet with the others," Marinette grumbled.

Luka stood up. "I'll get you food, Marinette, and I will make sure to not catch anyone's attention."

Marinette smirked. "You would do that for me?"

Luka pulled his hood over his head. "You need food, or else you will faint. I'll get you whatever you want. Chinese food, pizza, sandwiches, anything!"

Before Luka got out the door, Marinette raised her hand.

"Wait! Take one of the wigs and one of the outfits before you go!" Marinette said.

Luka understood and took the long blonde wig and the purple tuxedo with sparkles on it. He figured none of his friends would recognize him in this attire.

Marinette took a moment to giggle before heading back to her work. "Perfect!"

Luka went into the bathroom, changed into the tuxedo, covered his blue hair with the blonde wig, and covered his blue eyes with black sunglasses.

Marinette had her eyes glued to her projects, but she heard her boyfriend's voice and was stunned to see he looked like a completely different person.

"Don't worry, Marinette, I'll bring back food as quickly as possible."

~~~~

Back at the resort pool Luka and Marinette's friends sat at a table eating lunch and were totally bewildered as to why Marinette and Luka weren't present. But they still had fun and knew they shouldn't stop having fun regardless of some people who would rather spend all their time in hotel rooms/

Kim looked like he desperately wanted to say something, but he held his tongue.

Adrien and Kagami ate snow cones but glanced at Kim for a moment.

Max used his high IQ to try to read him.

"You ok, bro?" Nino asked.

"Oh yes! I am doing great at a resort!" Kim said as he brought his drink glass to his face.

Juleka sighed as she ate her food. "Let's just leave them be, you guys! It is the law of the 'do not disturb' sign. Besides, my brother is in love! Give him a break!"

"You use that excuse every time Jule," Alya said.

"Yeah, Luka and Marinette must be having some serious fun in that hotel room," Kim blurted out.

Such a remark lead to multiple spit takes from his friends.

"Kim, why?!" Max cried.

Alix, on the other hand, smirked at the thought as she continued eating her parfait nonchalantly. "I'm not surprised. Good on the adorable couple!

Rose, Max, Nino, and Alya all did a spit take at once, and Kagami gave Kim a disgusted look while Adrien was just speechless.

"Sorry!" Kim cried, gritting his teeth.

Kim then frantically got out of his chair. "Y'know, I am just gonna go for another swim!"

Kim ran for the pool, but Nino stood up.

"Yeah, I hope you enjoy a water fight, Kim!" Nino cried as he ran after him.

Max stood up, "Wait for me!" He cried as he followed the boys.

Alya got out of her seat. "Kim, you will regret saying that!" She cried as she ran after the boys and dived into the pool.

The friends that still sat at the table went back to eating their food in silence. But now, Juleka was starting to become curious about the whereabouts of her brother and his girlfriend.

"They have to come out any moment now," Rose said as she sipped what was left of her strawberry smoothie.

Juleka placed her elbow on the table and rested her face on her hand. "Maybe they ran off somewhere by now."

Adrien was busy shifting in his seat, and Kagami looked to see what her boyfriend was staring at.

"Hey, look at that guy! He's got a nice tuxedo," Adrien said.

It was a bit strange for them to see a guy with much longer luscious blonde hair than Adrien and wearing a purple tuxedo with sparkles at a resort. His eyes were covered in sunglasses, and he was carrying multiple take-out bags.

"Hey, brother!" Adrien cried as he waved his hand.

That man in the tuxedo seemed a bit startled as Adrien called to him. Luka was afraid that Adrien saw right through his over-the-top disguise.

"Great tuxedo, brother! And you gotta teach me how you get your hair so shiny!" Adrien said.

Luka merely waved back and then walked away to avoid further interrogation.

After that, all of Adrien's friends turned to him.

"What? I admire a guy who could make his hair look good at the pool," Adrien said.

Kagami grabbed her boyfriend's arm and rested her head on his shoulder. "You're fine, dear! That man's hair looked like a doll's hair."

Everyone managed to laugh a little except Juleka, who couldn't shake this feeling.

~~~~

When the sun started to set, everyone was at their wit's end.

Alya was practically stomping to Luka and Marinette's room, and Kagami tried to calm her down, even if Kagami was a bit upset herself.

All of Marinette and Luka's friends stood in front of the door.

"So should we all knock," Alya asked.

Adrien and Nino were starting to regret being a part of this.

"Guys! The laws of the 'do not disturb' sign!" Nino cried.

"Yeah, maybe this is a bad idea," Adrien said sheepishly.

"But what if something bad happened?!" Alya cried, almost breaking the being quiet in the hallway rule.

Juleka bit her lip. "Maybe Alya is right.

Rose grabbed Juleka's arm. "Juleka, just because you watched a bunch of murder mysteries that happened in hotel rooms doesn't mean anything is wrong."

Regardless Juleka pulled a room key out of her bag. "I got an extra key."

Kim towered over everyone else. "Well, let's get Marinette and Luka out of there!"

Juleka walked in front of the door while everyone else waited in anticipation. She was starting to think maybe this wasn't such a good idea, but she was also paranoid that something terrible happened. So she quickly swiped the room key and gently pushed the door open to see a pile of Marinette-made crafts.

Juleka was the first to quietly step through the door, and then everyone heard what they thought was a moan.

"Now you did it, Juleka!" Max cried softly.

Guilt filled Juleka, but Alya walked in apologetically. Juleka tried to run after Alya as they passed the living area filled with hats and butterflies made by Marinette.

Alya was about to peek through the sleeping area.

"Alya, no!" Juleka cried softly.

But Alya ignored Juleka and lingered in the doorway.

"Aww!" Alya cried.

Juleka froze for a moment before shamefully peaked through the doorway as well. Luka and Marinette slept soundly on the hotel bed. Nothing suggestive at all. They were just napping.

Juleka admitted this was cute, but she tried to tug Alya's arm so they could leave, shut the door, and prevent any drama.

But in their smiling sleeping states, Marinette and Luka were starting to open their eyes.

Juleka and Alya both gritted their teeth as Marinette screamed.

"What are you two doing here?!" Marinette cried.

Alya and Juleka shared in their humiliation.

Luka managed to calm everyone down and call everyone to the hotel room like a council meeting.

Marinette paced around the room, rubbing her temple, visibly annoyed.

"I just wanted to get my projects done today, so I can spend the rest of the vacation without stressing out!" Marinette cried.

All her friends were mortified. They were all visibly regretful but felt any apologies would be moot after getting on Marinette's bad side.

"We wouldn't have bothered you, Marinette!" Alya cried.

Marinette gave Alya a sour look. "I don't believe you, Alya! I would be distracted even by text messages!"

After moments of remorse, Kim threw his hands up. "Well, at least everything is alright! No murder and no…." Kim paused. "Fun stuff!"

Alix and Rose couldn't help but cover their laughs with their hands.

Marinette rubbed her forehead again and threw her hands up. "Well, I am done now! But I think I need to spend the rest of the night with Luka because he stayed here and helped me the entire time, and breaking the laws of the 'do not disturb' sign are not easily forgiven!"

Everyone gave soft agreements. Luka smiled and wrapped his arm around Marinette. "Let's go out to dinner," Luka said, and through Marinette's aggravation, she managed to smile.

Juleka walked up to the couple. "I'm really sorry, you two. I used the extra key Luka gave me. I was just worried!" She handed the card key back to Luka. Although he pushed the card key back to her.

"Keep it. I left it with you for a reason, Jule," Luka said.

Juleka still felt guilty about this whole thing and clenched the door key in her hand, almost attempting to crush it to get back in Marinette's good graces. But Marinette didn't argue with her boyfriend's decision and seemed to calm down after letting her feelings out. Juleka felt it would hopefully be water under the bridge by tomorrow.

Kagami and Adrien walked up next.

"Just so you know, I had no part in this tomfoolery, and I wish you and Luka a pleasant evening, Marinette. But I hope you two will at least join us for lunch tomorrow," Kagami said.

Marinette smiled. "I will." And Marinette and Kagami gave each other a quick hug.

Adrien placed his hand behind his neck. "I understand you two were busy, and it's great you got those projects done. You two certainly missed out on a lot of fun, though."

"Heck! I tried to befriend a guy with long blonde hair and a tuxedo. I wonder if he was a Vegas performer or something."

Luka blushed in embarrassment, and Marinette giggled. The blue-haired man had to explain to Adrien that it was all just a disguise so he could get take-out and avoid distraction.

Adrien ended up having a good laugh which caused their other friends who witnessed Luka's disguise to laugh as well. Kagami looked like her sides were hurting as she leaned to her boyfriend's side, and Adrien placed his hand on her shoulder to keep her stable.

"Looks like you found your next concert outfit, big brother!" Juleka teased.

Luka sighed.

Adrien took a moment to place his hand on Luka's shoulder and smile.

"Maybe you should try dyeing your hair blonde one day, Luka." Adrien winked at his best friend. "Then you'll really be my brother."

Marinette threw her arms up again. "Alright, everyone! I love you all! Even you, Alya! But everyone, get out of the hotel room and let me eat dinner with my boyfriend!"

Everyone mutually agreed and said their goodbyes.

Luka then took Marinette's hand and smiled down at her. "Alright, now the vacation can officially begin." Marinette smiled back at her amazing boyfriend.

~~~~

When Marinette and Luka got back to their hotel room after dinner, Marinette let out some last vents while she took off her earrings and her coat.

"I swear, what did they think we were doing in the hotel room this entire time?!"

Luka didn't mind listening to his girlfriend vent. He laid on his side on the bed as she continued.

"I mean, we came here as a friend group! Of course, we wouldn't ignore everyone to spend all this time in a hotel room…."

Marinette paused for a moment and placed her fingers over her lips.

"...Oh."

Luka smirked as a selfish part of him wanted a little fun in the hotel room. It was a long day, and he could use a recharge too.

But this was a time for friends.

Luka got off the bed and placed his hands on Marinette's shoulders while bringing his lips to her ear.

"We can also plan another vacation in the future, just the two of us," he whispered.

Marinette blushed hard, and she could have sworn she almost bled from her nose at the thought.

"Well, um…" Marinette said.

"Hmm?" Luka said as he nuzzled her from behind.

"We told our friends this night was just for us," Marinette suggested as she gently pushed her index fingers together.

Luka lifted his head. "You mean…"

Marinette let go and headed for the bathroom. When she came out holding a bath bomb in hand, Luka smiled at her.

"I made this galaxy bath bomb, and I…." She paused, rolling the sparkling sapphire orb in her hands. "I would love to try it with you."

Marinette saw Luka's smile of approval, and she didn't waste time running back to the bathroom to run water in the tub. Humming one of Luka's romantic tunes.

Luka ran to the nightstand and quickly grabbed the "do not disturb" sign and excitedly placed it on the doorknob of their hotel room.

Thankfully none of their friends were asinine enough to disturb them that night.

Author’s Note: God...I was actually tempted to continue that. Marinette and Luka bathing in a tub of galaxy bath bomb...

But again I doubt I can write anything that intimate!

Anyways, I hope you lovebugs enjoyed this and...Jeez! We are approaching the last days of Lukanette June 2021 and I am getting really sad! :( This was my first theme month!

*sigh* Anyway, this is Emiko Gale and....Goodnight sleep tight! My beloved lovebugs!

#pro lukamari #lukanette #lukanette june 2021 #my writing #my fanfiction

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off-in-the-moors · 3 years

Text

Joseph Kavinsky analysis, part 1

aka how did I get here and why is he the reason

Warnings: spoilers for the whole Raven Cycle, mentions of: drug-use, abuse, death, murder, homophobic slurs, xenophobia

Part 1 // Part 2

After finishing The Raven Cycle and analyzing every chapter, character and the overarching plot with my friend, we were left feeling empty. It's been few months, I kept looking-up more TRC related things, other people's opinions, look through fandom content and even read some post from the author's, now deleted, tumblr account, trying to find answers to why I'm feeling like this. Why the books seem to decline for me in quality as I kept reading? Why I can't see Ronan in the same light as the rest of the fandom? Why I couldn't like the author? And the answer was looking me in the eyes the whole time.

"Depending on where you began the story, it was about Joseph Kavinsky."

I loved his character from the moment we met him in The Dream Thieves and still think about him to this day. But why? In a way, Kavinsky is too familiar to me, from his attitude, through appearance to his voice. It’s like I knew him, and this isn’t surprising. I met/saw Kavinskys on the streets, I know Kavinskys, and I was a Kavinsky once in my life. Although I'm the opposed to him, I still sympathies with him and understand how it feels to be in dark places in your life. And I'm not the only one, many people adore him and don't deny his actions to be terrible. But on the other side, the majority of fans hates him and titles him "the worst/most evil antagonist of the series". But why? What about K makes him so polarizing? The simple answer is: the way he was presented and the function he played in the plot. Even then, K's whole arc in TDT was handled horribly and damaged the way readers will view, not only people like K but also themselves. This and also future posts, I’ll be analyzing everything relied to K, including his treatment after book's release by the author and what some deleted scenes and unused ending can shine on.

This is part 1 of a series of posts to come.

This part is about the narrative and characters views of Kavinsky.

Narrative and characters

Narrative is a powerful tool of telling a story, well crafted and coupled with character's internal-voice makes the reader view the story under different light. In a PoV of one character, one thing might bring-up different emotions and ideas, than the others. Exploring relationships and events differ, because everybody experience it differently. But problem begins when the narrative forces a reader to a opinion, without backing it up with reasons or giving a opposing one. In case of Joseph Kavinsky, before we properly meet him, we are told by the characters to hate him and the narrative backs them up in reasons to hate him. All the reasons given to us at that time, boil down to "I heard a rumor."

Gansey hates him, because "There was nothing about Kavinsky that wasn’t despicable" and "he thinks life is a music video". He doesn't want Ronan to associated with him, which is connected with him covering and getting Ronan's ass for the mess he made, having him project his anger and frustration he has with Ronan on to K, who part-takes in the same activities and probably with Ronan, is understandable. But I didn't expect much from a guy who: payed the school officials so they won't kick Ronan out; insulted Adam and throw Adam’s abuse at his face, just to instant of apologizing to him, make a pity party for himself (also having Adam apologies to Gansey for his rightful outburst isn't okay), is fine with having a romantic relationship with Blue while she's still with Adam, hurting him even further but makes it all about himself, etc. Him hating K, just because of his lifestyle, made sense. But were the line was crossed, was when he started to decide on other people's worth. Lines like "we matter" (on which I'll extend later in the post) or "Ronan is fixable and has a soul [Kavinsky doesn't]", were used not only to show what Gansey himself thinks of K (he isn't a human being to him), but also demonize K and make the reader not consider him an equal to the Gangsey (a teenage).

Blue hates him, because he's yet another Raven Boy. Her hatred comes mostly from her distance for them, rich boys with privilege to which Gansey gang is an exception (although two out of four are exactly the kind she hates, and she told Noah directly she wouldn't be friends with him if he was alive) (There can be made a whole post about Blue's hypocrites regarding Raven Boys, but this isn't it). She also talks about how she doesn't feel comfortable around K and "if she couldn’t forgive Kavinsky for always managing to make her feel so insignificant", which makes sense. But while describing him, she calls him "a import from somewhere else", not only lessening him as a person but also making a xenophobic comment, noting his long nose as one of the factors (you could say, she meant him being from New Jersey, but you don't "import" stuff from inside a country, you only "import" from abroad and K is Bulgarian, doesn't matter if he's an immigrant or just has Bulgarian roots). Later, while discussing what to do with K draining the ley lines, Greyman offers to talk to him, to which Blue asks him "can you make him feel worthless while you do?”. Yes, she asked a hit-man, who killed not only Niall Lynch but also multiple people (including three on pages, which was described in the case of the ones breaking into Montmouth) for money. (Yes, fans say it's fine he murdered Niall, because he was a dick and horrible father, but what we forget is that it wasn't a fast death. It was slow and brutal, having him bludgeoned to send a message to Declan. No "he was a weapon in Greenmatle's hand" can excuse it.). Plus, he beat-up and threatened Declan with a gun if he doesn't give him the Greywaren. "Making him feel worthless" can only mean the worst. Kavinsky was a asshole, but he didn't deserved that. Also Blue gives the idea to give Kavisnky to the Greyman instant of Ronan, which was shot down, but not because it's horrible, inhuman and they can't decide on someone else's life, but because they think Greenmantle's people will come back also for Ronan. They were ok, with K being basically a scapegoat so Ronan will live.

Adam just "hates that prick" and "looked at the table with a studied disinterest" when K approached their table at Nino's, those are his only interaction in anything Kavinsky related (In a part regarding the "original" ending, we'll see it wasn't always the case.).

Noah barely exists in the series after The Raven Boys and never comes in contact with K or gives any opinion on him, outside of "ducked his head down into his shoulders, but couldn't take his eyes off the newcomer".

Ronan's relation with K could be its own post all together and there already are some good post about it, but for this one, I'll only mention few things. He gives us a very "I hate him but I'm into this lifestyle" attitude. He races against K but doesn't want to have anything to do with him or he's "dogs". (Yes, Dream Packs canon name is "Kavinsky's pack of dogs" as Ronan calls them. Ironically, Ronan gets angry then Declan and K called him "Gansey's dog" but is fine when Gansey calls him "his dog".) He never thanked or acknowledged K saved his life from the Night Horror. He accepted K's help in dreaming-up the new Pig but afterwords ditches him without even a slit gratefulness (his motivation being remembering Gansey's words), and mocks that K thought there could be anything between them (friendship or relationship, it dependents how you interpret it), turning this into just using K to get what he wanted. And yes, what K did while Ronan slept (tracing Ronan's back tattoo with his finger) was unacceptable, if it really happened and wasn't just phantom-touch while falling asleep (if it was real, it can be interpreted as K acting out of his internalized homophobia, letting himself a moment of “curiosity”, but it still wouldn't make it fine).

Ronan and K insult one-another multiple times through-out the story but the difference is quite showing. K's insults are mostly homophobic, calling Ronan a "fag" or implying Ronan and Gansey are together. This is a typical teenage insults, but are also showing of K's internalized homophobia if viewed through "Don’t say Dick Gansey, man. Do not say it. He is never going to be with you. And don’t me tell you don’t swing that way, man. I’m in your head." and "It's a bomb. Just like you." scenes.

But Ronan, excepting the typical insults like "ball-sack", goes after who K is. "Bulgarian mobster Jersey trash piece of shit" or "Russian" (to the latter, K responded "Hey now, let's not make this ugly") are personal, referring not only to from where K's from, implying he's a mobster like his father and just calling him "a waste". Unfortunately, K's whole character is already one big stereotype of Slavs as viewed not only by Americans. But insulting someone for being "Bulgarian", something they had no control over, is xenophobic. (And for "Russian", as a Slav myself, let me tell you. Calling a non-Russian Slav "Russian" is a quick way to get on their bad side.) And if you're like "Ronan isn't xenophobic, because he's Irish" or "Maggie isn't xenophobic, because Ronan...", you have no idea how things work in Europe. This is the same argument as "He can't be racist, because he's black". TRC fandom is always ready to bring-up all K's sins and even enlarge them, but when in comes to Ronan, all his sins are either forgotten or excused.

One more thing I want to touch on is one of K's parties. After Monmouth got broken into by people looking for Greywaren (which Greyman broke into first), Gansey thinks it must be Kavinsky's doing, because of the fake ID left in front of the door. Him and Ronan go to K's party, he tells them, it's a substance party and asks where are theirs. As an answer, Ronan hits him in the face and throws through a car, just to show him his blooded knuckles with "This is your substance.". The rest is Gansey and Ronan not believing K, that he didn't trash their place, and a "different Gansey" throwing a Molotov cocktail at K's car. After that, they leave. But one thing isn't sitting right with me. The "This is your substance" is a beloved, may I say iconic, scene that is glorified by fans and cited as this "Ronan is so cool and K soo deserved it" thing.

Here's the thing. K is in full right. It's his party, on his rules. Gansey and Ronan just came from nowhere, probably for the first time, so the rule is stated for them. And Ronan's response? Physically assault K. Even if he's angry about the apartment, still he shouldn't just assault him. And Gansey does nothing. And one more thing: K never hits Ronan back. Not in next chapters, not at the end. Never.

Before the chapter ends, we get probably my most hated line from this book:

"Closing his eyes, Gansey leaned his head back on his seat, chin tilted up, throat green in the dash lights. There was still an unsafe sort of smile about his mouth — what a torment the possibility in that smile was — and he said, “There was never a time when that could’ve been you and me. You know the difference between us and Kavinsky? We matter."

We matter. And he doesn't. I could talk about this line and how damaging it is to people who see themselves in Kavinsky, but instant I'll say, why I hate it.

I have anxiety mixed with being introverted and back-in-the-day I felt isolated from my classmates, desperate for friends but only had toxic ones who dropped me so the popular girls would talk with them, just to be friends with me again after some time, bullied to the point of breaking multiple times, and hating myself for not fitting in, unable to connected with my peers in anyway. The line "we matter" echos my worst fear and thoughts from that time. "Everyone matter, you don't". I was too young to even have those thoughts, but they were always there. In the back of my head, like a recurring nightmare.

Just the idea, someone can say with confidence that someone, anyone, doesn't matter, makes me sick. No one has the inside to what's going on in someones life, to what thought are plaguing their head. Everyone's life matter and to say something like this in a book targeted to 12-18 year olds, who are at there most vulnerable stage, is not only irresponsible but enraging. Gansey is saying this about a guy his age, who is drug-addicted and self-destructive, because he doesn't like him and wants Ronan to stay away from. No one calls him out on it. Not Ronan, not the narrative. Nothing.

Until the kidnapping of Matthew and the paradox/question "did the tattoo tracing scene happened?", Kavinsky did nothing to earn hatred from the reader. He was living his life, being a stupid, reckless teenage boy with a power to get everything he wanted. Ask yourself a question: "If you had the power to pulled anything* from your dreams, wouldn't you go crazy with it? Maybe in a very selfish way?"

* Throughout TRC and CDtH, we see no limit to what a dreamer can pull-out. From a pen or working car, living creatures (animals, copies of real people or purely made-up) to abstract things, like a word with power to animate the dead or an apocalypses.

Yes, K's dreaming drained the ley lines, causing Cabeswater to disappear. But did K knew about it? He knew that he needed to wait for it to recharge before dreaming more things and he did just that. The over-draining was cause by preparations for this Fourth of July party (dreaming many copies of his Mitsubishi) but same did Ronan’s dreaming (but Cabeswater acts as weird gatekeeper, so Ronan seems to be forgiven). But did he knew about Cabeswater? Or furthermore, Glendower? We can't confirm or deny it, but considering K isn't from Henrietta and probably is there only for school, he's there for about 2 years. Would he be interested in some random forest or some Welsh King, which just idea of him being in America is so far fetched to believe in?

No. All he was interested it, was parting and wasting himself away.

We don't get any other or opposing opinions on Kavinsky, only the ones given by Gangsey. They are the outsiders looking in, not having any inside, just rumors and their shallow observations/interactions. But we don't even get any "inside", not from other Raven Boys or even the Dream Pack (who are barely characters). After K's death, the only thing we get is Gangsey's not caring or being glad K's gone. Aglionby is silent and Henrietta, doesn't even acknowledge Fourth of July's Party even happened (but to be honest, the town feels like a theater stage than a living place). The only mentions about K that gives some idea someone noticed anything, was his name alongside Whelk’s and Dittley's in the newspaper at the end of BLLB (but this plot point is never mentioned again).

#joseph kavinsky #anti maggie stiefvater #anti raven cycle #anti trc

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the-last-millenial-disaster · 3 years

Note

do you have any hcs about killjoy and brimstone's relationship?

(A/N: Yes of course I have some headcannons for these two. Enjoy!)

As we know, Killjoy is the youngest agent in the protocol

And I absoultely refuse to believe that she wasn’t one of the first recruits

I don’t know where Brimstone pulled her out of, but he did

However, Killjoy had no field military experience, so Brimstone made her go trough every training program possible until he allowed her anywhere near the field

He’d give her orders but it always sounded more like a parent scolding their kid

So she jokingly called him ‘dad’ once, and then used it whenever he started partonising and/or scolding

There’s a lot of I’m an adult I can make my own decisions

He’s like a second father to her

Brimstone knew Killjoy since she was a kid

She wrote him a letter once, actually

The way it was written, he thought some graduate student wanted info for their thesis

But no, it was signed (Name), 11 from Germany

He didn’t believe it so he checked and the information came trough true - he took the letter seriously and wrote back, answering her questions

And so he unintendedly found himself pen paling with a kid from the other side of the world

He stayed in contact with her entire family

They met on multiple occasions, he visited whenever he travelled trough Europe

So he’d get messages like ‘we saw you on TV the other day!!’ ‘we’re happy you got home from (mission) safe!!’

They really bonded so when Killjoy prematurely graduated every school, he offered to get her a place in an American college, if she ever wanted to study abroad

She did, since she had literally nothing to do except find work, which was boring

So Killjoy went on to academically destroy everyone while he kept an eye on her so her family wouldn’t worry

She was always an inventor, and people noticed it

Brimstone got her multiple oppurtunities to work in US government labs, fixing bugs and providing fresh ideas for their designs

But since she wasn’t allowed to work on her own, she left pretty much all of them

Until Brimstone founded the Valorant protocol and gave her a chance of a liftime

Killjoy was given full creative freedom and twice as many resources

I feel like Killjoy is the daughter Brimstone never had

He feels responsible for her, even though she’s a trained operative now

She’s the youngest agent in he protocol, and henceforth the ‘baby of the family’

Brimstone doesn’t know what it feels like to have a kid, but he figures it can’t be much different from this

When he watched Killjoy grow up, he saw amazing intellect and unlimited potential

Brimstone wanted to help her get somewhere in life, but the army was not what he wanted for her

He never liked putting people close to him in the line of fire

But Killjoy flipped him not one, but two middle fingers, and demanded to be trained for covert operations and gun handling

Classes that he begrudgingly approved, and truly made sure she went trough every goddamn training program there was

He taught her how to shoot

And the moment she beat him at aiming was the proudest one of his life

She broke into his office for fun

Multiple times

After three long talks and a few serious threats she agreed to stop

She’d hack Brimstone’s phone and set him reminders such as ‘elder’s curfew’

Brimstone would find her in her lab at three AM, surrounded by multiple empty cups of black coffe, working on whatever project that came to her at fuck-you-o’clock

After trying to get her to sleep she’d just shoot him down with something like Isn’t it past your bedtime old man?

And he’d be just like. You know what. Yes it is. And just leave.

They have little showdowns from time to time and Killjoy occasionally feels bad about it

So there would be periods where the base was filled with this awkward energy

and the agents would be just like ...what was it this time

As much as Killjoy likes to tease she has some deep respect for Brimstone

She always comes back to apologise for being rude, maybe not in the most confrontational way, but guilty enough so Brimstone knows she’s sorry

He can’t stay mad at her for long, since he realises he can’t fully understand what she’s thinking

He just wan’t her to have a good life damnit and that includes getting enough sleep

Next to Sova, she’s probably one of the rare agents who don’t question Bristone’s orders, and considering her analytic nature, that says someting

Killjoy helps Brimstone a lot with more advanced technology, as he is pretty attached to his pen and paper

Even though she’d never admit it, she loves listening to his stories, all of the things he lived trough

Brimstone is among the only ones who actually reads Killjoy’s trough analysis on the enemy tactics

(A/N: Sorry for the spelling mistakes. If you find any feel free to yell at me in the notes. Thank you for reading!!)

#Killjoy #killjoy valorant #valorant killjoy #brimstone #brimstone valorant #valorant brimstone #valorant hcs #valorant headcannons #aster asks

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timac-extraversal · 3 years

Text

Big Dumb Legitimacy, Part I

(TIMAC #004, ~2,300 words, 10 minutes)

Summary: When the mythic basis for a country's government is disputed, the government should consider justifying itself by successfully delivering practical, easy-to-measure projects instead.

Epistemic Status: Political speculation.

-☆☆☆-

In early 2019, I discussed the appeal of Trump's Wall.

Previous government programs were seen as ineffective, it's difficult for voters to tell if a program is working, and congress could always quietly defund or nerf a program when voters aren't paying attention. (Lobbyists for companies that employ unauthorized migrants might also have something to say to the senators about any immigration control program that works.) If you think that illegal immigrants coming over the southern border are driving down wages, and you don't trust the government, the appeal of the wall is obvious:

It's a big dumb object.

You know exactly what it is. You know it can be done. And you can easily tell if the government followed through. Even if you don't trust the newspapers, or the President, you can simply drive down to the Texas border and check if it's physically there.

Many on the left (and among the liberals) abhor the idea of Trump's wall, but with the Trump era coming to an end (for now), some are now starting to admit what was once more of a right-contrarian viewpoint - America's institutions have spent down some of their social capital. People just don't trust them as much.

And that's why the big dumb object may be an echo of things to come.

Latino Voters

In Texas, Trump made big gains in 18 counties where Latinos made up at least 80% of the population. A state Democratic party official said Latinos were worried about threats to the fracking industry, a major local employer, and that Republicans were also helped by 'a network of Border Patrol agents, families and unions.' [1☆] That Latinos are in the Border Patrol shouldn't come as a surprise. Latinos climbed from 7.8 to 12.5% of the country's police forces between 1997 and 2016. Previous efforts at integration were in part driven by policing as well-compensated, blue collar work. [2☆]

Latino voters might be more interested in practical issues than abstract ones. Are they productively employed? Are the places they live safe and secure? Philosophical debate and moral posturing can last all day, and with social media, well into the night. But at some point, someone actually has to get out of a truck and pour asphalt if we want to fix the potholes.

At least one hispanic man was not amused with last year's rioting and, infamously, showed up with a chainsaw and shouted for protesters to go home - and that wasn't the meanest thing he had to say. [3☆]

Spiritual Legitimacy

...and practical issues may be for the best.

To pile up recent heated rhetoric, it would be difficult for a "white supremacist" government of a country "built on stolen land" "by the hands of slaves," founded in slavery 1619 (rather than, more famously, in freedom in 1776), to legitimize itself on intergenerational moral grounds. We would need to repair or replace its legitimizing myth.

Countries are social phenomena, not just physical ones. A country is an idea, not just a place or a people. [4] The narrative of what makes a country legitimate is the story that binds the population together towards a shared project, and convinces the people to accept what, due to the limits of information, must necessarily be the rule of a small number of individuals. A country without a legitimizing myth is vulnerable, and from multiple directions at once.

The state is a shape in the minds of the population, and in a high-energy society its boundaries are maintained by the invisible threat of force. If a police precinct building is set on fire where everyone can see, rival rioters might get the idea that they can just bust open a few windows and pay a visit to the national Capitol building, perhaps smiling as they carry off the speakers' podium or live-blog from the offices of congressional representatives. [5]

There is no such thing as a safe riot. The entire point of a riot is that law enforcement is unable to control the situation. There especially isn't such a thing as a safe riot in the national Capitol building, where rioters might make contact with the nation's lawmakers (who carry much of government's sins), and where, for that reason, security personnel may be even more jumpy than usual. It's the sort of thing that might spark the fires of revolution, either in showing the weakness of the central government, or in retaliation for a massacre.

January 6 was bad, but it could have gone much, much worse.

A spiritual struggle for the soul of the nation is certainly exciting. We might imagine it gets excellent television ratings, social media engagement scores, and clicks. In fact, CNN declined from 2.5 million primetime viewers during what we might call the 'President Trump season finale' to 1.6 million primetime viewers after Biden took office. [6☆] Michael Bloomberg's failed candidacy suggests that you can't buy the kind of entertainment provided by pro-wrestling's now most legendary and infamous heel.

...so it might be better to focus on a form of legitimacy that can be achieved more easily, with something more concrete, like bulldozers.

This does not mean we need to 'abandon' suffering minorities or struggling rural residents 'to their fate.'

Streets Before Trust

On the last day of 2020, Alon Levy of Pedestrian Observations posted Streets Before Trust. Alon notes that in a "trust before streets" approach, the focus is on getting community buy-in before starting a project. Often the idea is to avoid disrupting low-income or minority neighborhoods. However, Alon writes that,

The reality of low-trust politics is about the opposite of what educated Americans think it is. It is incredibly concrete. Abstract ideas like social justice, rights, democracy, and free speech do not exist in that reality, to the point that authoritarian populists have exploited low-trust societies like those of Eastern Europe to produce democratic backsliding.

His theory is that the state proves to people that it can provide tangible goods by successfully providing tangible goods. However, he writes,

Such provisions of tangible goods cannot happen in a trust before streets environment. This works when the state takes action, and endless public meetings in which every objection must be taken seriously are the death of the state. ... Low trust is downstream of low state capacity. Build the streets and trust will follow.

On January 6th, Matt Yglesias expanded the concept and provided more examples. [7☆]

The correct way to respond to a low-trust environment is not to double down on proceduralism, but to commit yourself to the “it does exactly what it says on the tin” principle and implement policies that have the following characteristics:

◆ It’s easy for everyone, whether they agree with you or disagree with you, to understand what it is you say you are doing.

◆ It’s easy for everyone to see whether or not you are, in fact, doing what you said you would do.

◆ It’s easy for you and your team to meet the goal of doing the thing that you said you would do.

That’s not a guarantee of political or policy success. Maybe you will pick terrible ideas and be a huge failure anyway. But this triad for success under conditions of distrust at least creates the possibility of success, where people will look back and decide that what you did worked. Committing yourself to that triad may involve some waste and inefficiency relative to a more theoretically optimal scheme with more means-testing.

There's been a running joke among some parts of right-contrarian twitter that Matt Yglesias is a secret reactionary. After a passage like that, we might joke that he's secretly a Rationalist. (He isn't either, of course.) [8]

Who Do You Trust?

Alon writes,

Low trust in many cases exists because people perceive the state to be hostile to their interests,

Right now, many Americans, both left and right, don't trust the state. Even a writer from Sri Lanka wrote that America is in a collapse - and that collapse isn't a single moment, but a low-level hum punctuated by violence that's in the background unless it happens to you. [9☆]

Many liberals will blame this on Trump. From their perspective, the logical thing to do to restore trust is to criticize Trump. The thinking goes something like this: if Trump is discredited, it follows that all his criticisms of other institutions are discredited - and if those criticisms are discredited, you should trust those institutions as much as you did back in, say, 2013.

This will not work. First, the doubt is not solely caused by Trump. Second, if right-wingers trusted the institutions (such as newspapers) needed to make the criticism of Trump, they would not have voted for Trump a second time. (Trump received about 11 million more votes in 2020 than he did in 2016. [10☆]) Their trust in these institutions seemed to erode after 2015, [11☆] accelerating in 2020, culminating in the spectacular fireball of the Trump election fraud allegations and the 2021 MAGA Capitol Riot.

For the left and liberal people, a rising 'consciousness of racial injustice' leads them to question (and distrust) every Western institution. "Will this program benefit People of Color?" Historically, there have been some serious questions about that. [12] If the program is complex or difficult to measure, it will allow those suspicions to sneak in, or even dominate: could the criteria, even if they look reasonable, have been chosen by a racist? What if it's subconscious racism ("implicit bias")? Some institution might tell us the program isn't racist, but what if that institution is itself racist, or unwittingly working from racist data? Etc.

Each of these worldviews has layers of memetic defenses - complex procedures to handle opposing arguments. Each also has a network of paid actors that perpetuate them. The New York Times cannot criticize a MAGA into trusting the New York Times. A self-identified progressive is unlikely to be convinced that a MAGA's criticism of 'racial justice' rhetoric isn't motivated by 'a desire to protect white privilege'. [13] And contemporary political constellations [14] can fabricate entire scandals that would take months for a normal person to fully disprove.

You can't go through it. That's too expensive. You have to go around it.

-☆☆☆-

[1☆] How Latino support for Trump grew in Texas borderlands Los Angeles Times, (2020/11)

[2☆] Latino officers are helping diversify police. Can they help reform the ranks? NBC News, (2020/05)

[3☆] McAllen man who waved chainsaw at protesters charged with assault KRQE, (2020/05)

[4] A country is also a people, not just a proposition, as well as a process and a place. But that's an essay for another time.

[5] Perhaps fittingly given the Florida Man genre of news stories, the man carrying off Nancy Pelosi's lecturn was from Florida. But unlike the more whimsical examples of the Florida Man genre, which might see an alligator thrown a drive-through window, people did die during the 2021 MAGA Capitol Riot, including one of the white women who entered the Capitol building. There were even early reports that a police officer was mortally wounded after being hit with a fire extinguisher, though this may not have been accurate.

[6☆] CNN viewership plummeted after Trump left office New York Post, 2021/03

[7☆] Making policy for a low-trust world Matt Yglesias, Slow Boring, (2021/01)

[8] In both cases, he's just integrating information from outside the current consensus and presenting the resulting outputs from adding it to his considerations politely. This creates a sensation of coherent but novel depth under the surface, in the same sense that Japan is an entire culture with its own sets of unspoken cultural assumptions, providing more novelty to manga and anime for Western readers.

[9☆] I Lived Through Collapse. America Is Already There. Indi Samarajiva, (2020/09)

One day, I was at work when someone left a bomb at the NOLIMIT clothing store. It exploded, killing 17 people. When these types of traumatic events take place, no two people experience the same thing. For me, it was seeing the phone lines getting clogged for an hour. For my wife, it was feeling the explosion a half-kilometer from her house. But for the families of the 17 victims, this was the end. And their grief goes on.

As you can see, this is not a uniform experience of chaos. For some people it destroys their bodies, others their hearts, but for most people it’s just a low-level hum at the back of their minds.

[10☆] An Australian news piece from Nov 5 reports Trump had about 63 million votes in 2016. A later USA Today piece reports a final total of about 74 million for 2020.

[11☆] This is my personal judgment, but tracks a Gallup Poll that ends in 2019. Trust in government remains near historic lows (2019).

[12] From a right-wing perspective, if we consider some norms, beliefs, values, or expectations a form of "social technology," there are even more questions.

From a left-wing perspective, during the Obama Administration, I remember one writer suggesting that Black Lives Matter wanted to convince politicians to want to help black folks rather than agreeing to a specific policy, because they didn't trust the details of policy (which could easily hide implementation details that disadvantage black people).

[13] If members of the white working class seem suspicious of this antiracist explanation, however, it might have something to do with white privilege theory lowering white liberals' sympathy for poor white people.

[14] Networks of interrelated organizations and actors acting semi-independently in a way which, due to conditions, gives the appearance of coordination. No one is specifically 'in charge,' and many actions take place in the open.

#timac #politics #racepol

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jenovahh · 3 years

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The Honey Pot - Ch. 26 - Irrational

“Oh thank the Twelve, you’re coming to.”

Blinking your eyes, you feel like you’ve been floating in space and have finally come down to earth, your limbs feeling heavy after being suspended in zero-gravity. You’ve been passing out too much lately you think, circumstances be damned.

Milky eyes that belong to a powdery face come into focus, Merlwyb the picture of worry as she calls for a doctor to check on your condition.

“Chief Merlwyb?” you cough, a glass of water held in front of you before you can even ask, Merlwyb slipping a straw inside and gently holding it towards your face. Mumbling a word of thanks, you take a sip, the water refreshing and quenching as you nearly down the whole cup until Merlwyb draws it away.

“I think you should slow it down. From what I understand, they were having to reintroduce you to food.” Merlwyb murmurs, setting the cup down on a nearby nightstand. Taking a look around you’re back in the same makeshift sick room within Cid’s mansion, IV hooked up to your arm as it pumps you full of whatever is in the bag attached to it. The doctor shows up soon enough, giving you a quick once over as she makes sure you’re on the mend.

As the doctor asks you a few questions, you notice Merlwyb looking incredibly guilty, wondering if she really feels so bad you had gotten captured. Surely she can’t be beating herself up over that?

“And if I may ask,” the doctor begins but Merlwyb holds up a hand gently.

“If it is alright with you doctor, I would like to speak to my officer about this alone.” Merlwyb interrupts, the doctor giving a nod of understanding, saying nothing more as she exits the room. Turning to you, Merlwyb’s fists are clenched tightly in her lap, and you get too worried to keep your peace.

“Is everything okay?” you ask with a broken laugh. “I mean, I know it was scary, Varis locking me up, but I’m okay. I’m okay.” You grin, reaching out to try to console her but she jerks away. “Chief,”

“Do not call me that.” She bites out, the harshness of her voice shocking you. A little hurt, you begin to question what you could’ve done to warrant such a flip in her attitude, until you see she is shaking with unshed tears, liquid pooling in the corners of her eyes as she finally gains the will to meet you eye to eye. “Do not refer to me with such respect after I’ve failed you so catastrophically.”

Confused, you shift to try and sit up a little better. “Chief Merlwyb, what do you mean? I thought we went over all the risks at the start! We knew that this would be a dangerous job,”

“The job would be dangerous, yes! But never would I have made you become pregnant with that bastard’s child!” She cries, tears finally running down her face. You sit in perfect stillness, unsure what to say. Faced with the reality of having to explain that you were not only pregnant with Zenos’ child, but that you didn’t even feel bad about it. When Varis had revealed that same fact to you, you didn’t even care.

“We sent you to simply try and catch his son in the act. To give us any kind of proof of illegal activity. Only to realize too late we had put you in that monster’s hands!” Merlwyb sobs, clutching your hands within her own. “When I had said that you must protect the mission at any cost, I never meant that you had to bear Varis’ child. That you would have to accept him forcing himself upon you.”

Eyes widening as you see the cause of her grief, you fumble to try and find your right words. “Chief, I...did the doctor,”

“The only one that knows is myself and Cid. Cid is busy preparing other avenues to try and handle Varis.” Merlwyb grumbles, over the worst of her crying. “He was appalled to learn of this, he had--”

“Please, please, stop right there.” You groan, sick at the thought of if things really had gotten to where they assumed they had. Taking a deep breath, you fix Merlwyb with a guilty look of your own. “Never would I have guessed the famed Annihilator to be a crier.” You joke weakly, watching as she seems to lighten the tiniest bit.

“Strong I may be, but I am not immune to the suffering of my officers.” She sniffs, rubbing your hands with her larger ones.

Looking at your hands joined together in your lap, you struggle on what to say next. “While I’m...glad you feel such concern with me...things didn’t get that far. Not with Varis.”

Brows furrowing, Merlwyb shifts closer to you in her seat. “What do you mean?”

Breathing deeply, you try to get everything out in one breath. “I will not deny it. What led to me being locked away was actually due to Varis trying to force himself on me.” Saying it nearly makes you throw up, tilting your head back as you take calming breaths. “He had drugged me with a substance mixed with aether rendering me unable to move. If his right hand man hadn’t shown up when he did...then he would have--” You nearly throw up again, having to keep the bile down as your body breaks out in a cold sweat.

“You don’t have to talk about this.” Merlwyb consoles, rubbing your back gently.

“No. Because I need to...I need to explain.” You sigh, feeling weary already. “What I’m trying to say is, Varis only tried to force himself on me before he locked me away. And...if my math is right, I should be a month or two along.” Placing a hand on your stomach, you rub it gently. “It’s not his.”

A mix of relief and worry passes through Merlwyb’s face, standing to her feet. “Thank the Twelve it isn’t so. I must tell Cid,”

“It’s Zenos’.” you cut off before she can even leave your side.

She stops in place immediately, shocked by your words as much as you are having said them. To put out in the universe you are carrying the child of someone you once thought a monster.

“Honey…” she whispers, sitting by your side once more. “Honey, did he,”

Shaking your head furiously, you refuse to meet her surely judgemental gaze. “No. I...it was consensual. Multiple times. I…” swallowing your fear, you press on. “I was so stressed from working for Varis, my health suffered. I stopped taking supplements, vitamins, and my birth control. I had met with Zenos that day when Raubahn died and one thing led to another.”

As tears leak from your eyes as you finally give voice to your shame, you still cannot bear to face her scorn. “I tried to hate him. I tried to hate him for so long, but he…” you sob, wiping furiously at your tears, “he’s the only one that understands me. The only one who’s strong enough, the only one who makes me happy. I didn’t even blink when Varis told me I was pregnant with his kid, I didn’t even feel sad. How fucked up am I for falling for him?!” You laugh, the sound broken and mangled. “I’m a failure to the mission, Raubahn would be ashamed--”

Merlwyb crushes you in her arms, ceasing your downward spiral. She says nothing, merely holding you tightly as your tears catch in her shirt, clutching you tight as she buries her face in your hair. “Honey...no matter what I better not hear such self deprecating language from you ever again.” She whispers, stroking your head softly. “Raubahn would be proud. You’ve survived. You are alive. And that’s all we ever wanted. For you to come home.”

“But I--”

“No ‘buts’.” She interjects, pulling away to give you the stern look you had known her for. “Not to throw him under the bus, but Cid had already filled me in on your entanglement with his bodyguard and Zenos respectively. I can’t lie that at first I was alarmed, but when he recounted all the trauma he had known you had gone through, how he could see you warp and change...I could not think to hold it against you. And neither would Raubahn.”

You weep thankful tears at her words, a weight lifted from your shoulders at her comfort. You embrace each other once more, wrapping yourself in the comfort of simply being held, knowing you both have been through the wringer these past few days.

Merlwyb notices your eyes begin to droop, promising to see you again when you wake up next. She would go off to find Cid and relay what you had told her in a calmer, less emotional fashion, sparing you the risk of potentially triggering yourself. You allow yourself a few more hours rest, drifting thoughtlessly as you have the most restful sleep you had in what had apparently been weeks.

Two weeks had Varis managed to stow you away, Cid and Merlwyb knowing something was wrong when they hadn’t heard hide or hair of you in two days. The phone Cid had given you had been confiscated and destroyed, giving them no idea on how to find you. They had been sick with worry with no way to find out what happened until Zenos had showed up on Cid’s doorstep in the dead of night, demanding that you be saved. Cid had immediately called for his personal doctor to begin treating you, bringing you to the present.

Even while you rest, your thoughts are too tumultuous to let you sleep long, the steady drip of your IV and the light buzz of the alarm clock on your nightstand your only companions when you wake. It is a few hours past midnight, the mansion quiet, but in a good way unlike the Galvus estate. There’s just enough white noise in the halls that gives a comfortable ambience, a home that is lived in, prompting you to drag yourself out of bed and into some slippers to walk a bit to maybe tire your mind a bit to go back to sleep.

Forced to drag your IV pump around with you, you shuffle down the hall, enjoying the peace as you let your feet aimlessly wander. Though you know Cid was prone to all nighters if he was knee deep in a project, something tells you he’s fast asleep. Making your way downstairs you enjoy the calm of his mansion at night, slipping past the many doors as you struggle to not bump your shin into any unsuspecting furniture.

As you pass through the living room, you hear grunting, looking through one of the many floor to ceiling windows to spot Zenos outside, running through his practice routines. His golden hair now looks to be made of spun ivory under the moonlight, muscles flexing with every movement as he swings his sword through the air. Each strike is precise, measured as he hones his skill, a fierce determination on his face as he snarls his frustration.

Heading to the sliding door, you gently push it open, the warm night air soothing you instantly as you stand in the doorway, watching him quietly. You’re surprised he’s yet to notice your presence, too focused on whatever he’s thinking about to catch you watching him. Leaning against the doorframe, you’re content to watch how his body flows effortlessly through each stance, dressed in his usual workout attire, clinging to him like a second skin.

It is only when he spins does he take note of you at the door, uncharacteristically startled before a shadow of guilt darkens his features. Frowning, you move to join him in the yard only for him to give you a look that promises retribution if you move from your spot at the door. “What are you doing here?”

Tutting, you stand up straight. “From what I heard, you brought me here.”

“That’s not what I,” he pauses, turning away from you for a moment. “I meant what are you doing outside? You should be inside, resting.”

“I was trying,” you grumble, stepping out onto the manicured grass, dragging the IV pump along uneven ground. He turns to you once more, unable to meet your eyes. “I couldn’t sleep, probably because I had spent the past two weeks being made to sleep. My body’s quite sick of it, I think.” You joke lightly, coming to stand before him.

He still won’t meet your gaze, which is strange in and of itself. Creeping closer, he shifts away and you frown, trying to peek under his fringe of hair. “Zenos? What’s the matter?” you ask, reaching out for his hand but he jerks it away.

“What do you want?” he snarls, eyes furious. Though you begin to get angry, you take a step back and look at the situation. Though your memories are hazy, you can remember his desperation to get you out of that facility. His worry at seeing you look so frail and weak. The guilt you had seen once he had realized you were there--

He was scared.

Lowering yourself to the ground, you can’t help but laugh a little at how he casts his sword to the ground while reaching to catch you in the same motion, uncaring of where his blade ends up. “I’m not dying, Zenos. I’m not falling apart.” you sigh wistfully, motioning to the ground for him to sit next to you.

Pursing his lips, he seems to debate between picking you up and carrying you back inside, versus giving into your whims. “You’ve not seen the horrors of my father’s experiments.” He answers instead, lowering himself to the cool grass to your side, one knee bent with the other leg extended before him. You relish in his slight intake of breath as you shuffle to be closer to him, leaning upon his warmth. It’s not too cool out, but the furnace that is his body isn’t unpleasant. “But I suppose for that, I am thankful.”

“I’ve not. And I’m glad I didn’t.” you murmur, relaxing immediately from his presence alone.

The two of you are quiet, Zenos stiff as if he does not know what to do with this nearness from you. “I...I’m glad I had found you in the condition I had. I had feared the worst.” he admits, which coming from him, is no small feat.

Gazing up at the moon, you rest your weight fully upon him, his arm naturally coming to support you and hold you close, almost as if on instinct. His hand seems unsure where to place itself, so you help by gently coaxing it to sling around your waist, linking your fingers with his. “He had told me so many horrible things. He told me how awfully he would treat you.” you murmur, satisfied to stay just like this.

“What did he tell you?”

His voice is guarded, cornered. Scared.

“He told me...that he forced himself on your mother.” You answer, unable to look him in the face.

He tenses then, skin heating before you tighten your grip on his hand, hearing his deep breaths behind you as he calms himself down. “The story the public knows is that my mother passed away due to sickness. Only a select few know the truth.” His voice is far away, distant, as if lost within a nightmare. “After all, it’s not really palatable to have it leak out that your father had threatened to have your mother killed if she tried to run. That when she felt she had no option left, she had killed herself.”

Gasping, you turn in his arms to look at him, finding nothing but an emotionless gaze staring back. You can see the truth in his eyes, a pain so guarded and so deep that you wonder if this is the first time he’s told anyone else. “Zenos,”

“After all, wouldn’t you do the same? Would you not burst into hysterics upon looking at the child you not only had forced upon you, but were also forced to bear?” he laughs humorlessly, as if the joke is tired and worn out, the punchline having lost its kick.

You wonder if he can hear your heart breaking.

“Zenos,” you whisper carefully, reaching with both hands to cup his face, feeling its warmth but a cold expression is all you get in return.

“I do not need your pity.” he snips, though he makes no move to push you away. “I’ve had my share of it. And for what? It would not bring my mother back. Not that she would want to stay anyway. Not when she gave birth to a monster.”

Tears pool in your eyes at his words, wondering how much he had of this locked up inside, and for how long?

How long had he not known love?

One of his hands reaches up to dab at a tear trailing down your cheek, frowning as he does so. “Why do you cry? I told you I didn’t want your pity.”

“I’m crying for you.” You murmur, turning in his hold to be on your knees, crowding closer to where he parts his legs more to give you room to sit between them. “Because you’ve not had the chance to do it for yourself.”

His lips part at that, emotions of all kinds warring on his face before he settles on anger. “You are a fool if you think that would change things.”

“I’m not trying to change things you idiot!” you whisper harshly, not wanting to yell and potentially wake anyone up. “You come and save me from being experimented upon by your father until I die and you don’t want me to show you I’m at least a little grateful? When I had started to believe that no one would come for me and you carried me out in your arms?”

“Sweet words won’t excuse your cowardice.” he growls, trying to pull away. “That even after you apologized, you had gone running back into my father’s arms.”

“For you!” You snap, clutching his face desperately.

Confused, he shakes his head. “What do you--”

“You think I would go back to the asshole willingly?” you seethe, begging him to understand. “That me, a cop, would want anything to do with his desire to be a dictator? To remember the good ole days of imperial rule?” Despite your earlier reservations, you raise your voice with every question. “Do you know how much it hurt to be apart from you? To see the betrayal in your eyes as I left your side for no other reason than to try and take your father down so you would be free from his influence? To fall for you--”

Your words catch in your throat, unable to take them back. The two of you only stare at one another, wide eyed and frozen as your unsaid words hang between you, wishing you could simply disappear. Zenos is solid as a board and your heart sinks, releasing his face as you begin to stand. “I should get back inside,”

He pulls you back to him forcefully, not letting you flee back to the safety of your room. You try to tug away but you’re still too weak to fight against his might, huffing and puffing for him to release you as you try to run from the shame of your actions. “Let go of me,” you whine, resisting his touch as he wraps his arm around you like a vice, refusing to let you go anywhere.

The rough pads of his fingers urge you to face him as you squirm in his arms, not wanting to face him, to face your feelings. “Honey.” He breathes, finally getting you at a suitable angle to press his lips to yours, ashamed at how easily you melt in his arms. He deepens the kiss, full of all the passion, the emotion you now know he’s capable of, threading his fingers into your hair as you rest your hands upon his chest before looping around his shoulders.

The kiss is all passion, all affection, all possession as your tongues dance together, as teeth nibble each other's lips, as you breathe each other's air. You fall into him just as easily as you did the first time, wondering how on earth did you get here? It is only when he feels you crying again does he pull apart, dabbing gently at your tears with an indescribable emotion upon his angelic features.

“You would run because you’re afraid of what you feel for me?” he asks, holding you as if you were made of the most delicate glass. The same man who had no problem flipping you over his back, grappling you like a wrestler, was now cradling you as if you were the most important thing in the world to him. “I have never run from how I feel for you, even if I cannot understand it. I have only wanted you. It can only be you.”

“You don’t get it!” You sob, pounding your fists on his chest. “I love you, you idiot! I was sent to try and take you and your father down and look where I am! I fell for you instead, I’m having your ch--” you stop yourself once again, afraid of what he would possibly think.

“I do not know love but I do know I would have no other. Is that not good enough?” he asks, desperate to understand, and Twelve above you wish he did. Perhaps he loves you in his own way, but there’s so much of him that needs healing, so many bad habits he needs to break before you could truly be by his side. It occurs to you only now that you looked at him through rose-tinted glasses, seeing nothing but the happiness he brought you, and you alone.

A child brings new questions into the mix.

Would he treat the child the same way he treated you? Would he fall into the bad habits of his father, having no good example of how to be a parent? Continuing a cycle of abuse because he had never known love? Would he train that child for the sole purpose of becoming stronger, unsatisfied until either of them fell in battle?

Deep down you knew you were being foolish, but fear overcame reason as you kept your eyes shut tight, crying against his chest as he held you. It was such an irrational fear, one you were completely self aware of, but that did not stop you from crying, nor did it stop you from falling into his embrace as he kissed you once more.

You are no stranger to Zenos’ touch, though you are a stranger to how gently he treats you as you recover from being detained by Varis. Only with your permission do you allow him to visit, except visitation is not satisfactory. He all but moves into your room, seeing to your needs during the day until he goes about his own business before returning to you at night. He’s always there to bring you your meals, sitting in comfortable silence or making light conversation, making you remember just how much you loved him, until he reminded you just how much you needed to run away when this was all over.

You only wish he knew how hard he was making it for you.

There wasn’t a need of yours that wasn’t seen to by Zenos personally. Whatever you wanted to eat, he went and got it. If you wanted to walk around, he was the one to pull your IV pump along, leaving you free to simply stretch your legs. From fluffing your pillow to simply being a warm body to hold at night, there was nothing he would not do for your sake.

This wasn’t going to be easy.

As you recuperated and strength once again flowed through your limbs, he turned into your physical therapist, helping you stretch your muscles and make you limber enough to fight again. He would only spar lightly at your request, making you feign exhaustion so he didn’t feel angry for making himself hold back. Naturally you made sure to avoid all blows to your abdominal area, flowing like water around his strikes, taking a more defensive approach, which you thought would make him angry.

It had the opposite effect. It seemed to only make him want you more, pursuing you like a man possessed, fucking you into the floor until your voice was hoarse from crying out his name.

This is how I got here in the first place, you grumble to yourself, walking with him to meet up with Cid and Merlwyb on another part of the estate. There was hardly a day he was not by your side, something you did not mind after spending so long apart, but you began to think it strange considering the circumstances. Varis had to be wondering where he was. But if Zenos was not worried, you figured you shouldn’t be either.

Reaching the conference room turned “briefing room”, you give a small wave to Cid and Merlwyb who greet you in return. “You’re looking better by the day, Honey. I’m glad to see you’re making a recovery.” Cid welcomes, standing from his chair to come give you a hug. You return it with equal measure, glad to have people on your side. “Please sit. We haven’t been waiting long.”

Nodding, you pull a chair out from the table, not at all surprised as Zenos takes a seat in the one directly next to you. “I’m sorry to delay everything for so long.”

“Your recovery was paramount, Honey.” Merlwyb speaks up, giving you a serious look. “You have shouldered so much of this upon your back. There is no way we could ask you to put your life on the line anymore than we already have.”

“But I want to. I want to take him down.” You insist, refusing to take no for an answer. Merlwyb looks ready to argue but Cid quickly interjects, physically leaning between the two of you.

“Easy there, ladies. We’ve got a common goal, and let’s just look at the facts before we start making plans.” Cid offers in the interest of neutrality, slowly sitting back down in his chair. “We’ve got quite a bit of information to catch Honey up on anyway.” He sighs, reaching for a remote and turning on the mounted TV. The screen is paused with Varis’ face on it, a news ticker reading “Varis Unveils Revolutionary Technology”, your heart immediately sinking.

“This has been on the news for nearly two weeks. Yes, it’s exactly what you’re thinking. Varis has revealed his ‘discovery’ of aether upon your capture.” Cid grounds out, clicking on the remote to start the clip. It is silent, but the clip continues to play, allowing Cid to speak. “It’s been a nightmare since. I’ve been called by more news outlets than I care to remember asking for my response.”

Sadness creeps into his features as he watches the TV with a forlorn expression. “As I had told you, my father’s laboratory had burned down, leaving me with no physical proof that it was he who originally discovered aether. All I have is my word against his ‘proof’.” Banging his fist against the table, he runs his hands through his hair. “It’s infuriating.”

Clicking the remote a different press conference plays on the TV, Varis showing off different bits of technology powered by aether. "He's got the public in the palm of his hand. Everyone's dazzled by the power of aether, but of course only we know the truth. We know that aether is not to be messed with, that it is dangerous and more powerful than we could possibly comprehend." Cid explains, tapping his fingers against the table. "I've considered trying to make my own sample, to show what a volatile resource it is…"

"We already discussed this Cid. Absolutely not." Merlwyb interjects. Their interaction comes as a slight surprise. Merlwyb was Cid’s senior by barely a decade, but within the past month they became fast friends. "Varis has already tried to take your life once and is already so sure of his victory that he's content to leave you alone for now. Let's not give him reason to try and take you out."

Nodding grimly, Cid turns back to you. "As you can see, we've got our hands tied. Varis is, if anything thorough, making it hard to plan any sort of move. We're running out of time."

Gnawing your lip, you find yourself focusing on what Merlwyb had said. "If...do you think he would try and target Lord Hien?" The room is completely silent, and you don’t know if it’s because they find the notion preposterous, or they wonder how the thought has never crossed their mind. “I mean, clearly Varis has to think he’s nigh untouchable now. He’s attempted to kill Cid once without facing any consequences. He successfully killed Raubahn and forced Merlwyb into hiding. Don’t you think…?”

Cid drags his hands over his face, heaving out a dry laugh. “Nymeia save me, I think you might be onto something.”

“But Cid, why would he need to kill Hien? The election is so close, he’s already done so much to make himself look like the ideal candidate. What more could killing Hien do for him?” Merlwyb questions, posing some good points.

“An easy win.”

The three of you turn to Zenos who has remained uncharacteristically quiet this entire exchange. “Honey has been around my father long enough by now to understand how he thinks. However, as his son,” he grounds out, “I have intimate knowledge of how his mind works.” Shifting in his seat, he sighs. “Before he had stopped telling me of his plans, he thought himself untouchable; he had evaded you all for decades.” He explains, looking pointedly at Merlwyb before his gaze shifts to Cid. “And the only one who could ever bring any evidence against him had no physical proof, nor the courage to say anything.”

Giving a frustrated sigh, Cid turns once again to the TV. “I can’t deny that. My own cowardice has allowed this to go on for as long as it has.” Cid murmurs, fidgeting with the remote in his hand.

“And if he were to kill Hien, who could stop him?” Zenos asks, glancing around the table. “The Chief has been killed, and the only other ‘good cop’ remains hidden for her own safety. Who is next in command to take Raubahn Aldynn’s place?”

You gasp, turning to Zenos. “Ilberd.”

Shrugging, the heir goes back to looking bored once again. “With his longtime supporter at the head of police, it would be no problem to have Hien’s death look like nothing more than an accident even if he shot him point blank on national television.”

“Twelve above…” Merlwyb whispers, burying her face in her hand. “Decades worth of planning. Decades worth of moves. I had always suspected Ilberd, but on this large a scale…” Gasping, her eyes widened in horror. “By the Twelve, he has the entire police force under his control. If he wins the seat, he would have an entire army--”

The room is silent once again, the three of you processing the scope of Varis’ plans. When he boasted of his intellect, you had thought little of it, knowing that like any businessman he was educated, but to be so thorough, to make the right connections, to plan this far ahead…

Clenching your fist, you stand to your feet. “We have to save Lord Hien.”

“I don’t disagree, but--”

“But what, Chief Merlwyb? I refuse to have another person die because of that bastard!” Your chest is heaving, Cid looking surprised at your outburst while Merlwyb maintains her composure, giving you a knowing look.

“Honey, please calm down.” She urges, reaching across the table to place her hand atop of your own. Something silent passes between the two of you and you take a few calming breaths, sitting back in your seat. “If you will allow me to finish, what I was trying to say is that this is not something we can go into guns blazing. We are dealing with a man who knows how to run circles around the law; this I know well. We will have to make a plan that is fool proof and draws no attention to us.” Her eyes turn to the heir sitting by your side. “Especially now that we’ve got his son on our side.”

At that Zenos fixes Merlwyb with a hot glare. “And where did you get the notion that I would be assisting you in any way, shape, or form?” Zenos asks, his voice even and neutral, but you can see the rage within his eyes.

“If you are not helping us, then why have you stayed here, Zenos?” Cid asks sternly.

“Is it not obvious?” Zenos scoffs, eyes upon you. “My only focus has been, and always will be Honey. But even then…” Something haunting passes through his eyes, seeming far away before coming back to the present. “...even then I could not aid you. I cannot go against my father, but I will no longer aid him either.” Standing to his feet, he prepares to leave but you snag his hand, giving him a pleading look.

“Zenos...I,” you begin, unsure what to say. “We could use your help.”

Shaking his head, he tugs his hand free and continues on his way, saying nothing else. Your heart breaks that much more to see him go.

Stewing in your thoughts a bit, you find yourself a bit hurt at Zenos’ refusal to take down his father, but try to think about it calmly. Given what he revealed to you, that his own mother did not want him, saw him as a monster, who knows what psychological damage had been done to him to make him unwilling to raise a hand against his father?

You’d make a point to ask him about it later, but for the time being, you needed to make a plan. “We’ll have to carry on without Zenos. He’s not against us, which is almost the same as being on our side. Trust me...if Zenos did truly serve his father and Varis had kept me hidden, the only being who can take Zenos down, Varis truly would be unstoppable.” Cid and Merlwyb nod grimly at your words, having no other choice. “Do we have any way of contacting Lord Hien?”

“I have his number due to working with him for the...rally. The only problem is he’s surely seen my funeral and thinks me dead.” Merlwyb answers, flipping through her phone.

“In that case, perhaps Cid can give a call, especially since he has the technology to make sure it isn’t tampered with.” You direct, having taken the lead. “We’ll call Lord Hien and apprise him of as much information as we can. If I have to go in and make the rescue myself, then so be it.”

“Absolutely not.” Cid interjects, eyebrows pinched together. “I will not have you shouldering this entire operation again. Besides, if you’re not familiar with Lord Hien, he’s got an excellent shadow of his own I hear. Yugiri, I believe her name is. What she lacks in your sheer strength she more than makes up for in stealth. In fact, she just might be our ticket to get Lord Hien to safety.”

Unfortunately, Lord Hien has other plans.

Cid contacts Hien as promised, relaying as much information in as little time as possible. Lord Hien expresses his concern and guilt for the recent happenings, and due to the credibility of your accusations, hears you out.

However, he will not escape.

“But Lord Hien,”

The three of you are seated in the same conference room, staring at the TV screen where current Kugane Prime Minister, Lord Hien sits staring back.

“I understand your concern, Mr. Garlond,” Hien pauses, handsome face deadly serious. “But this would be a terrible time to abandon the public. I would go as far to say that my sudden disappearance would only usher Varis into his seat faster.”

Biting your lip, you can’t deny he’s right, but still you worry. “But we can’t let him get to you either!”

“Do not worry for me, my friends.” Hien smiles, as if all will be well. “I did not say I won’t take safety measures. I will remain out of the public eye, and stay hidden with those who I know are loyal to me. These past few years as Prime Minister have allowed me the opportunity to gain many allies.” Hien explains calmly, pausing to take a sip of water. “This will also allow me to help you behind the scenes as well.”

“While we appreciate your aid, Lord Hien, this entire operation is contingent on you living. Will you not reconsider coming into our custody where we know we can protect you?” Merlwyb asks, sounding as strong as ever.

“The operation does not revolve around me, my friends. It revolves around Varis atoning for the crimes he has committed against the people.” Hien frowns, threading his hands together. “He has murdered civilians he is desperate to rule over. Lied and stolen from his constituents. While Kugane needs a good leader, yes, it does not have to be me.” Smiling, something about him makes you wish you knew that kind of calm. “While I appreciate that you want me to remain in my seat, what matters most is his crimes coming to light and being locked away for what he’s done.”

Unable to argue against that kind of logic, you merely stand from your seat. “I understand. I need a moment of rest, so if you will excuse me.”

Not stopping to hear what anyone has to say, you flee from the room, allowing your feet to carry you anywhere within the estate.

Lord Hien either put too much faith in you, or he was a fool.

His certainty that all would be well, that things would work out, where did it come from? You could see his appeal, a confident, easy going charisma backed by an unwavering sense of justice, of doing right by the people. All the things that Varis lacked, that would make Hien the ideal candidate for Kugane.

But he was right. No matter how ideal he was, what mattered most was making sure Varis did not come into power. Even if it meant Hien somehow died in the process.

It was a tough pill to swallow, that Lord Hien was so okay with being a willing target so long as Varis was brought to justice. It made you feel as if his life was in your hands, a deeper part of you whispering to trust in his words, that he would do his best to keep himself safe.

Coming to a stop to a door leading outside, you step out into warm, summer air, feeling the grass between your toes. Days like these did wonder for your mood, making sure you made a point to keep as much stress off of you as possible. With everything going on, it was hard to do, but Merlwyb had aided in that department, making sure you kept your temper in check for the sake of the child growing inside of you.

The thought of getting rid of it had occurred to you more than once, to simply rid yourself of all the “what ifs” and “maybes” and be done with it. But each time you did, you found yourself weakened by the thought of being able to give your child everything you didn’t have. To raise her with the same love and adoration in which Minfilia had raised you.

When this was all said and done, you would have plenty of time to make your escape. Perhaps you would flee to Eorzea, make a new life and name for yourself there. You doubt Zenos would care enough to spend time to track you down on another continent, making it the ideal place to start anew. You could get a new home. You could find a new job.

You could continue running away from the best thing to ever happen to you.

#FFXIV #ff14 #Final Fantasy XIV #zenos #zenos yae galvus #THP

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