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#I’m just trying to survive here and also convince myself that I deserve nice things
shadowandlightt · 2 months
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Of Nightmares and Memories | nine | Azirel X reader
Series Warnings: Kidnapping. Mistreatment. Cursing. Pining. Violence. Depression. Talks of suicide. Eventual smut
Part One Part Two Part Three Part Four Part Five Part Six Part Seven Part Eight
A/N; *to the tune of Britney Spears* OOps I DID IT AGAIN. Also I'm more nervous about this part than I have been for this entire series, so be nice and kind and I hope you enjoy <3
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Mor showed up a few days later. She appeared as you were lounging in a chair, attempting to read some random romance novel you’d come across. 
“He’s taking her to The Weaver,” She stated in lue of a greeting. 
“Well then he’s a fool,” You snorted, not looking up from your book. 
“YN,” She warns, “He’s taking her to The Weaver.” 
“Yes I heard you,” you roll your eyes and look up, “What difference does it-” 
You stop upon seeing the look on her face. The worry and the pain hidden there. You swallow the lump in your throat at the sight. She looked at you like you would break at any moment, and maybe you would. Maybe she saw the truth in you. 
“They’re mates, aren’t they?” You question, voice sounding strange. 
She only nods and moves to sit on the couch across from you. You nod slowly in understanding. You wanted to be happy for them, but somehow you couldn’t feel it. Like there was something wrong with you. Like you were broken. 
“I had a feeling,” You tell her, “From the moment she became Fae and he came for her the first time. I had a feeling.”
It was true, you did have a feeling. Something deep within you told you that they were drawn to one another in ways that neither of them could explain. You often wondered if that was the same with Azirel too. If you were secretly mates, you used to pray for it as a child. Because you couldn’t imagine a better mate than him 
To this day you still couldn’t imagine a better mate. But how could he want you now? Mate or not. You’d never have the same relationship that you had before. Nothing would be the same. How could you pretend to be the same person you were when you were taken when everything around you was different? You weren’t sure how you were going to do any of this. 
“Please come home,” Mor begged. 
“I can’t,” You try to keep your voice from breaking, “I can’t go back there.” 
“Why?” She demands, standing from the couch, “Why are you denying yourself this? It’s Valaris! Your favorite place in all the world! You hate being here, you always have.” 
“Maybe I deserve to be here,” You mumble, “Maybe I deserve to be away from all of you.”
“What are you talking about?” She questions. 
“I didn’t try to run when I could have. I gave up. I fucking gave up and accepted my fate there,” You explain, slamming your book shut, “I let myself become Tamlin’s little play thing, I allowed him to strip my powers away. I let him do everything to me and I never fought back.” 
“You never deserved what happened to you,” She shook her head, “I’m not so sure that I wouldn’t have given up either, if I’d been in your shoes.” 
“I spent fifty years thinking all of you were dead.”
“Oh, Y/N.”
“I really did give up then. Because I realized Rhys wouldn’t be able to come for me. Up until that point, up until she took him, I was convinced he would come save me. That all of you would somehow find out I was still alive and come marching into the Spring Court and raze it to the ground.” 
You shake your head, trying to clear the thoughts that were swirling about. Your back ached along the two big scars. Everything about you just hurt. Your skin, your head, your chest, your heart…everything. You just wanted it to stop. You needed it to stop. 
Mor sat back down and reached over to take your hands in hers. There was nothing but love in her eyes, no sign of the pain that you saw when she first arrived. You want to pull away from her, pull away from the tender touch that reminded you too much of your mother. 
“You survived,” She swore, looking deeply into your eyes, “You made it out. You were brave and cunning and you survived. That’s all that matters now.” 
Your head shakes again, “No, it’s not all that matters. You can’t understand, none of you can.”
“Then help me understand,” She begs, “Help me understand what’s going on. Help me help you.” 
“You can’t help me, Morrigan,” You said, standing up and ripping your hands away from hers. 
You walked to one of the large widows, wondering how bad it would be if you flung yourself from the Palace. How much would it hurt when you crashed into the mountain below? Would it be enough to bring you the release you so desperately craved? Would Mor be able to stop you in time? 
You thought long and hard about it, but in the end you turned away from the window. Hating yourself for even thinking such a thing. It would destroy Rhys to get you back only to lose you again. You couldn’t do that to him. That was the only thing stopping you. 
“Azriel knows we’re hiding something,” She says from her spot on the couch, “I’m not sure how much longer we can hold him off.” 
You nearly cringe at the sound of his name. Cauldron, what is he going to do when he finds out about you? How will he react? Will he even want to be in the same room as you? Will he be able to stand to look at you after everything you’ve done? 
“I don’t care,” You lied, “I don’t give a fuck if he thinks you’re hiding something. You don’t tell him about me.”
“Yes I know, Rhys’ order was very clear,” She rolls her eyes. 
“You should go,” You tell her, “Before they wonder where you are.”
She sighs and gets up from the couch. You can tell she wants to say something else but decides against it. You watch as she disappears into darkness. You finally felt that you were able to breathe once she left. 
You fell deeper and deeper into the darkness as the days went on. The feeling in your chest only got worse with time. You wondered what would happen if you went down to The Hewen City. What would they do if their princess suddenly reappeared after so many years. 
You wondered if they’d kill you, just to spite Rhys. Or if they’d bow down to you like they used to. But then you remembered one of the last conversations you had with Azriel, and how he hated the way so many of the males talked about you and you felt sick. 
Everything surrounding Az seemed to make you feel that way these days. You could feel it deep in your chest, the sort of ache you always seemed to feel whenever you were away from him. After all of these years it still hadn’t subsided. In fact it seemed to be getting worse as each day passed by. Like being back in the Night Court and being so close to him was making it worse. Or maybe it was the fact that the Faebane was finally starting to wear off and your powers were coming back. 
No matter the reason, you weren’t sure that you could go on like this any more. You didn’t know how you could live with the constant ache forever. Because you never planned on going back to Valaris, you couldn’t face the city you loved after what you did. After how you allowed your mother to be killed. She loved Valaris, and loved flying over the city. And it was your fault she was dead, no matter what anyone else said. You were to blame. 
You didn’t expect Rhys to appear several days later. He looked tired. You wanted nothing more than to wrap your arms around him and tell him that it was going to be okay. But even you didn’t believe that. You couldn’t believe that it would be okay. Too much had happened. 
“We’re going to the Summer Court,” He tells you, “Feyre, Amren, and myself.”
“Enjoy.”
“Little Star, tell me what to do,” He begs, stepping closer to you, “Tell me how to help you.”
“I’ll tell you like I told Mor,” You sigh, “You can’t help me.”
“Come back to Valaris, be with your family.” 
Your head shakes. You couldn’t bear to face Cassian and Azriel. Not now, maybe not ever. It’s something Rhys could never understand. He was able to readjust easily after Amerantha. But he hadn’t spent hundreds of years being beaten and mistreated. He wasn’t starved and drugged every day. You couldn't be mad at him, as much as you wanted to be. Because you knew he suffered too. 
“I can’t come back.”
“You keep saying that but you never say why,” he challenged. 
“Because it’s all my fault!” you finally broke, tears streaming down your face, “It’s my fault, Rhysand. She could still be alive if I had just done something. Anything. But I didn’t.”
“If you’re to blame, then so am I,” He countered, “It should be just as much my fault. I told Tamlin where you would be. I’m the one who didn’t come to meet you as I promised, I left you undefended.” 
“It’s not your fault, Rhys,” You felt anger boiling up in you now. 
Because you didn’t blame him. You never did. He had duties to attend to that day, you understood that he couldn’t get away. He trusted Tamlin. The son of spring had him fooled, and that was not Rhys’ fault. Not in the slightest. 
“Then it isn’t your fault either,” He gently argued. 
You can’t help but shake your head again. He didn’t understand. He couldn’t understand. He wasn’t there. He didn’t hear her. He doesn’t see her every time he closes his eyes, he doesn't hear her screams in his nightmares. 
“You don’t understand,” You cried, “She didn’t even beg for herself. Even as they cleaved her wings from her body, she only begged for my life. Begged for them to set me free. Even as they hacked her to pieces, she cried for me.” 
“Y/N-”
“I’ll live with that knowledge forever,” You sob, “Do you have any idea what that’s like? To know that you failed your mother? That she died for nothing, because you are nothing?”
“Don’t say that.”
“Why? It’s true. I have nothing left to give,” You shrug, fighting back the tears, “There’s nothing left for me.”
He surges forward and grabs your shoulders, “Don’t say that. Don’t you even think about it. Never think about something like that. There is so much left for you in this life.”
“It doesn’t feel that way, Rhys,” You feel numb all of the sudden. 
The void is back. And you’re once again a shell of yourself with no fight left to give. You sag against Rhys’ hold on you, wishing you could just crawl back into your bed and forget that this conversation ever happened. 
You wish he would just leave already so you could just disappear within yourself again. You wished he would just leave you alone to waste away. It seemed to be the only thing you could think of doing these days. 
He looks into your eyes and goes silent for a moment. You know the look he has, he’s speaking to someone, mind to mind. You feel anxiety well up within you, because you have no idea who he’s speaking with and what he’s telling them. 
You can only hope that it’s Morrigan and nothing else. You can only hope that he’s trying to ascertain how serious you are about having nothing left. But then shadows ripple in the room, subtly at first, but enough that you realize it. And it’s not you calling to them 
“You promised me,” You cry, hitting his chest, “You fucking promised.” 
“I won’t let you wither away to nothing,” He says sternly, “Not when there’s someone who can stop it.”
The shadows take form. You rip yourself from Rhys’ grasp and try to run but you hardly make it out of the room before the man is then flesh. You know the second he’s here, because you can feel it in your very bones.  Like a song in your blood. You try to keep moving but your body betrays you and stops. You think that maybe he won’t take notice of you. Maybe he’ll be too focused on Rhys. But then you hear footsteps. So hesitant, so light you hardly hear them. 
You can hear your heartbeat in your ears, or maybe it’s his. You think you might drop dead here. Right in front of both of them, and then where would they be? Your hands are shaking, just like the rest of your body. But you keep your back towards him, too afraid to turn around. 
A hand reaches for your shoulder. His touch is featherlight, but you can feel his scars through the thin material of your shirt. You knew it was him, long before he touched you. You could smell him better now though. Could feel that void in your chest slowly starting to fill. 
As if his very presence was enough to bring you back to life. 
Hesitantly, he speaks. Voice so silky and deep, just as you remembered it in your dreams. Only now it’s a dream made real, and he’s here. You’re alive and he’s alive and suddenly he’s gently spinning you around to face him. 
There are tears in his eyes as he opens his mouth, “Y/N.”
It’s the only thing you hear as he studies your face. Your lip trembles as tears fall anew. You can feel the air filling your chest, nothing but the scent of him filing your nose. For the first time in years you want to smile, because he’s here. And more devastatingly beautiful than you remembered him being. 
“Az,” you cry out softly. 
He pulls you into his chest, holding you there tightly. For the first time in a couple of hundred years, you felt complete. You nuzzle into him, still crying, getting his leathers wet with your tears. You couldn’t bring yourself to care though, because it just felt right. You could feel it deep within your chest, the part of you that always seemed to connect you to him. 
“You’re alive,” You can hear the disbelief in his voice, and the wonder too.
“You’re alive,” You cry, finally allowing the words to sink in. 
He was alive, after all of these years. He was untouched during Amarantha’s rule. Valaris was untouched. Everyone that you loved was okay, and so were you. Somehow, for the male holding you and your brother, you would fight to be okay. 
He pulls away from you and cups your face. You watch as he looks you over, carefully scanning your body. Any of the lingering bruises from Tamlin had faded away into nothing. There was nothing to prove that anything happened at all besides the two long scars on your back. 
“Y/N,” He whispers again, “Oh my Y/N.” 
Then he leaned in to kiss you and it was as if your whole world shifted to just him. He was the only thing that mattered. Just Azirel. Always only Azriel. Your Azriel. Your perfect, beautiful, scarred Azriel.
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harrimaniac27art · 3 years
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Sometimes you’re tired of reading so much and you’re tired of thinking and sometimes your doodles in the margins turn out as dark as your brain wants to be
#also i take offense at the fact that I am relating so much to a study about wellbeing in old people#here I am in the fuckin blossom of youth and what am I spending it on?#living with my parents. relating to an article about how old people’s concerns are avoided or brushed off#not really able to do a damn thing about it#i grew up believing that my concerns weren’t as important as other people’s and now I’m a great listener#but I have so much I need to talk about and no one who will sit down and listen.#sure there’s my therapist but like. i don’t feel like he and I are connecting#I’m so used to shutting up and not talking about things that I don’t even know how anymore#i mean I can yell into the void that is tunglr dot com#and at least that lets me get it out. but...it doesn’t feel very productive#i need a hug and a proper fucking desk#instead of writing my thesis on a damn tv tray#I wish I could just be grateful that I have a tv tray to write on.#but like. the tv tray also feels like. a reminder of how I’m trying to force this to work#of how jerry-rigged my life currently is#I’m sitting here in the middle of a recession writing poor-me statements on the most expensive phone I’ve ever owned#fuckin. irony. and don’t you dare say I haven’t worked hard enough to afford more space/space of my own#I’m just trying to survive here and also convince myself that I deserve nice things#anyway sorry that turned into a rant#thanks for reading if you made it this far#digital art#my art#margin doodles
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watchmegetobsessed · 3 years
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IN YOUR MEMORIES
a/n: alright so this was inspired by an amazing fic called Graveyard by @wkemeup​ if you haven’t read it... WHAT ARE YOU WAITING FOR??? honestly, i was amazed by the whole idea of having to “pay a price” for a super power and i’ve been really itching to try myself out in this concept, so that’s what this story is. im really excited to share this with you guys so i hope you’ll like it!
pairing: Bucky X Reader
warnings: a hell lot of Bucky’s past pain, a little bit of angst aaand idk im really bad with these warnings
word count: 7.6k
masterlist
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“I’ve been trying to figure out an effective way to help him, but it’s been more complicated than I expected. None of my ideas were good enough to even attempt them.” Shuri lets out a frustrated sigh as you stare at the peaceful face of the sleeping man in front of you in the cryo pod. The glass in front of his face is frosty, but you can still make his sharp features out, his chiseled jawline under the stubble, the elegant line of his nose and the thick lashes fanning over his cheeks as his eyes are shut closed.
“His whole mind needs to be rewired, his corrupted memories should be replaced or wiped out so the trigger words wouldn’t work any longer, but I can’t do that on my own.”
Tearing your gaze away from the man you look at her, an apologetic expression adorning her features, because she swore you’d find shelter in Wakanda, a place where you can be just like anyone else and yet, she is now asking you to use your power.
“Do you think he would let me help him?” you ask, glancing back at the man. Bucky, as Shuri called him, doesn’t look as old as he was said to be. A hundred and six years is a lot for a human like him, though he is not as mortal as others on the planet. Shuri told you about the experiments he had to endure through his life and even though you haven’t even touched his mind, you could feel the pain inside you.
“He is desperate to get rid of his dark side, I think he would do anything.”
Reaching up your fingers graze the glass over his face before you plant your whole palm onto it, trying to feel him even under the surface and ice. Eyes shutting close, you take a deep breath as you let your senses open up and find your way to the man.
Because of the cryo pod, you don’t feel him the way you usually do. It’s like he is just an echo in a huge empty room, you can’t make out his whole mind, but he is there. And even with him sleeping under the ice, you still can feel the despair and pain he had to go through as an innocent man. You know he deserves to be saved, he deserves to be freed from his own past and you are his only chance as of right now.
“Wake him up,” you simply tell Shuri before turning around to go back to your room that was assigned to you upon your arrival in the palace.
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Bucky doesn’t feel like he has been asleep under the ice for more than just a few hours. It felt like a nap, but in reality he woke up months after the day he closed his eyes.
Shuri welcomed him with the news that the cure has been found and it’s time for him to get rid of the Winter Soldier for once and for all. She didn’t say much about the method, just told him to get ready by the afternoon.  He was never one to question the genius young girl so he just obeyed.
After a hot shower he shaved and took the time to get accustomed to the prototype of the vibranium arm Shuri left for him. It’s not the final version, a lot of details need work, but it’s good enough for his everyday life for a while.
The world hasn’t seemed to change since he last saw it. Wakanda is just as flourishing and vibrant as he remembered, a truly spectacular place in his opinion. He wonders how his friends have been, what Steve is doing, if Natasha is alright… Is Tony still fuming after their last encounter? He probably is.
When it’s time, he leaves his room and heads to Shuri’s lab for their meeting. The guards let him in with just a nod, like he is an old friend and he finds Shuri at her computer as always. The girl beams upon seeing him again, complimenting on his freshly shaved look.
“So what did you invent for me, smartpants?” he smiles at her gently. Bucky owes a lot to Shuri and her brother, they took him in when he wasn’t welcomed anywhere else and now she is about to give him his life back. After this, he’ll forever owe her and her family.
“Well, it’s not my invention this time,” she chuckles shaking her head. Bucky is about to question her when the doors open again, both of them turning in the direction just to see you walk in. His eyebrows knit together at the sight of you, not entirely sure what it’s supposed to be. “Mr. Barnes, let me introduce you to Y/N. Y/N, this is Sergeant Barnes.”
You walk closer, Bucky’s icy blue eyes are glued to your form as you stop a few feet away from him, holding out a hand shyly.
“It’s nice to meet you, Sergeant James Barnes,” you smile softly as his flesh hand takes yours and shakes it gently.
Bucky is enamored with you instantly. He has never seen someone as delicate, soft and charming as you are, your whole aura just demands his attention and he wants to know everything about you. But he also notices that though you look a lot like any other human on the planet, he is convinced you are not from Earth.
What he doesn’t know is that the moment your hands touch, you can hear his thoughts and you can’t push down your smile at how well he is at inspecting his surroundings.
“Just call me Bucky, please,” he nods before your hands let go of each other and his thoughts quiet down again in your head.
“To answer your suspicion, I’m rorm a planet called Lortena. Life on my planet looks a lot like humans here on Earth, but our lifespan is a little longer and some of us have gifts, as my mother always liked to call them.”
“How did you—“ “How did I know what you thought?” you ask with a small smile, finishing his sentence as he nods in complete awe. “I’m what you might call… a mind reader. But my abilities go a little farther than just reading minds,” you admit and his lips part at the revelation.
Bucky glances over at Shuri, part of him thinking it’s some kind of joke or witchcraft, but the girl smiles back at him with an assuring nod.
“Why don’t we sit down and have a chat? I’m sure you have a lot of questions,” Shuri suggests patting Bucky’s shoulder before the three of you head into her conference room.
Though you’re not touching Bucky, you can sense his confusion and hunger to learn more about you. He is curious about what else you are capable of and though the news about your abilities are still quite odd to him, you can tell that he isn’t trying to shut you out entirely. He just has some reservations for now.
Bucky knows it’s rude to stare, but he can’t stop himself from inspecting you. Knowing that you are not from this planet is already enough for him to get his mind racing, especially because you look just like any other humans on Earth. But the little trick you did on him was enough of a convincing for him to believe that you are from somewhere else.
The three of you sit to the table and Shuri takes the lead to start the conversation.
“While you were asleep, Sergeant, life went on and we had a lot going on,” she smiles, her eyes falling on you. “Y/N is a refugee from her planet, Lortena. There’s a war going on there and she was sent away because she was a primary target. She wasn’t supposed to end up here, but there was a little mishap during her journey and landed in Wakanda.”
“Are you targeted because of your… powers?” Bucky asks, hoping he is not asking anything offensive.
“No,” you shake your head. “It’s because I’m the king’s daughter.”
“Oh!” he breathes out.
Great, so she is not only a breathtakingly beautiful creature with superpowers, but she is royal as well, he thinks to himself.
“And how… where do your… powers come from? Is that a usual thing on your planet?”
“Not quite,” you chuckle softly.
You give a glance at Shuri who nods and brings up a hologram of Loki’s scepter with the mind stone in it. Bucky is already familiar with them, but he is curiously listening to find out what it has to do with you.
“Long before the mind stone was trapped into the scepter, it was in our possession. We used it as out main power source, kept locked away from preying eyes and hands. We all knew it’s capable of more than what we use it for, but we didn’t want to risk it and use it for the wrong purposes.”
The hologram changes and now the mind stone is on display on its own.
“But not everyone agreed with that. A couple hundred years ago there was a war for the stone. Though our people sacrificed everything to protect it, they didn’t succeed entirely. Unfortunately, the attackers didn’t know how great the stone’s power is. In the midst of the chaos, there was an explosion caused by the stone. Almost everyone present was killed, only seven survived and they were blessed with different powers coming from the stone.”
Bucky’s lips part as his eyes flicker over to you from the stone in the middle of the table, while you are staring at the hologram remembering back the stories your parents told you growing up. He feels like he is being shared with an ancient legend, a piece of history that is a privilege to know.
“The powers they were gifted with were held at great heights after the war was over. And while some of them could pass it on to their children, some couldn’t. The seven became four, then just two and there was one left. My grandmother. When my father didn’t show any signs of the stone’s power it was believed the magic was gone forever, but then I was born and…”
“And you had the powers,” Bucky chimes in, completely in awe of your origin story. You nod with a shy smile as the hologram of the stone disappears in the middle of the table.
“Yes.”
“And why is there a war on your planet right now?”
“Because though it’s been a miracle that I inherited my grandmother’s powers, the people want to get the stone back and have more of its powers. Unfortunately, the stone was lost through the years and I was informed that Thanos got a hold of it some time ago,” you explain, turning to Shuri for assurance about the accuracy of your words and she nods. “Who then gave it to Loki and now it’s in the scepter. People were demanding my father to start a war for the stone to get it back to Lortena, but he refused to sacrifice his army to get the stone back from a titan.” Sighing you lean back in your seat as you think about your home, your family that was left behind when your father sent you away because he was afraid the rebels would use you to get to him.
“The stone is not at Thanos’ any longer,” Bucky speaks up and your eyes find him as you snap out of your thoughts.
“I was informed of that as well. It’s um… it’s Vision’s now, right?” They both nod. “Well, the rebels think it’s Thanos’ and you better hope it stays that way. Because if they figure out that the titan doesn’t have it any longer, they won’t hesitate to attack you for the stone.”
Bucky’s jaw clenches at the thought of another war to take part in, but also because you had to go through such terrible events because of other’s greediness.
“I’ve been trying to find a solution to help you since you’ve gone to sleep, but I wasn’t able to come up with any,” Shuri speaks up. “But then Y/N arrived and I think she could be the one to do the job.”
“You think you can do that?” Bucky asks, eyebrows pulled together. “What else can you do, other than reading minds?”
You feel hesitant revealing the depths you’re able to reach with your abilities and you’re afraid he would find it too invading after everything he has been through. You want to help him but he has to let you. Though you’re powerful, if someone resists your attempts, the outcome won’t be the same as if they cooperated.
“If you let me… I can change your memories. I can make them appear differently in your head so what they did to you won’t have an effect on you any longer.”
Bucky’s jaw twitches. He has no idea what he was expecting, but not this for sure. Letting another person get into his head, play with his mind like it’s just a toy, it’s something he vowed not to let anyone do it again. But as he stares back at you, he can tell the difference between you and the monsters who ruined his head before. He is at a safe place and everyone here wants what’s good for him.
“It only works if you let me do it,” you add and notice how he presses his lips together into a thin line.
“I would do anything to get rid of him. So… I’m in,” he nods at last and you let out a relieved sigh.
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You’ve never tried to corrupt so much of someone’s memories before and you’re not sure how long it will take to complete the task so you requested to start the next day, giving you some time to get ready physically and mentally and of course, for Bucky to get himself ready for his mind to yet again get taken apart by someone else.
Not having much to really do since your arrival other than helping Shuri out occasionally at the lab or giving assistance for T’Challa around the palace, you’ve been able to explore your temporary home in the heart of Wakanda.
There is a hidden terrace near your room, one that’s not well-known even by the people living in the palace and you like the peace and calm whenever you are out there, surrounded by flowers and plants in hand-painted pots, some of them were made by yourself, watching over the breathtaking view of Wakanda in front of you, the sky turning from bright blue to shades of orange, pink, purple and eventually black as the Sun goes down behind the hills.
Tonight, this is where you are seeking peace again, sorting your thoughts out about what you’ll have to face tomorrow. Your power has a lot of benefits but it has its curses as well. You’ve only attempted to do something similar before and you had to learn the hard way what price you have to pay for having control over someone else’s mind, thoughts and memories.
Your brother was tragically killed in an uprising when he was only seventeen and you were ten. It was the result of a series of unfortunate event, he was at the wrong place at the wrong time, no one could help him. Your mother broke under the pain of losing her own child and you listened to her cries every and each night for months before you decided that you needed to help her. She didn’t want to let you even try, afraid it might take too much of you to help her, but you insisted and she eventually gave in. You altered her memories and feelings about your brother’s death, only left her with the ones that bring her joy and happiness, but your gesture demanded a price you weren’t ready to pay.
Upon your own grief for your brother, you had to bear your mother’s as well, the pain of two people clutching your heart and mind in return for your mother’s happiness. You never told her how you cried yourself to sleep every night for an entire year, how you could barely control your dark flashbacks and the constant darkness that was pulling you down. No one knew what you had to go through just to see your mother smile again and you made sure it stayed that way. However, you didn’t dare to do it again, not entirely sure if you could handle the pain one more time.
You surprised yourself when you offered your help to Bucky. You don’t even know him, yet you are willing to take his pain and make it yours just so he can live a somewhat normal life. Though his memories and nightmares won’t torture you as long as they would have did with him, you’ll still have to fight his demons and he won’t even know it. Then why are you doing this?
You have no answer to that. Seeing him for the first time you just had a feeling that you have to do it, that he is worthy of it all and that you want to be the person to free him.
The glass door opens behind you as you’re watching the Sun disappear on the horizon and you’re surprised to see Bucky walk out to the terrace, stopping in his tracks once he notices you sitting on one of the wooden chairs.
“Oh, I’m sorry. I didn’t think anyone would be here,” he mumbles, his gaze snapping down at the floor.
“That’s what I thought too,” you chuckle.
“I’ll leave you—“ he starts, ready to leave, but you stop him.
“You don’t have to. Feel free to join,” you tell him, gesturing towards the other chair. His hesitation is clear at first, but then he closes the door behind him and sits beside you.
Bucky watches the sunset in awe, but he can’t shake his curiosity towards you, having to control himself not to stare at you as he tries to figure you out. You’re not the only one who doesn’t understand why you’re doing this major gesture for him, he’s spent the afternoon trying to find any alternative motives that might explain your willingness to help him. He couldn’t find any and it left him with even more puzzles in his tortured head.
“What is it like on your planet?” he finds himself asking, breaking the long silence between the two of you.
“It’s not too different than here,” you admit truthfully. “Though our technology is a little more advanced,” you add with a soft chuckle. “In a way I’m happy I ended up here, because Wakanda reminds me of my home.”
“You miss it, don’t you? Your home?”
“Who doesn’t?” you ask with a soft smile and Bucky nods. He misses his home too, but in his case, it’s not a place but a time, decades ago, when he was his true self instead of the monster Hydra forced him to become.
“I’m sure it’ll be nice to return once the war is over,” he hums to himself and he expects a warm and positive reaction from you, however all he sees is pain and sadness in your eyes. “What is it?”
You hesitate to share it with him, staring back at him you think about keeping your thoughts to yourself, but how could you expect him to let you get into his head if you don’t share your thoughts with him willingly?
“Bucky, I don’t think I’ll ever return to my planet,” you breathe out as your gaze moves back to the scenery in front of you, the burning disk of the sun already hidden behind the hills.
“What do you mean?”
“The ship I came with can’t be fixed and they don’t know that I ended up here. It would take them too long to find me here and that’s if… If my family will be alive by then. I have no idea what’s happening there right now, if the rebels are winning or my father is able to keep things under control. I see very little likelihood of my return.”
Bucky’s heart aches for you, knowing well the pain you feel, he finds it ironic how the both of you are stuck so far away from your homes, seeking shelter at the same place at the same time.
He thinks it’s fate.
“What’s your favorite memory from your home?” he asks and you turn to him with soft and shining eyes. He is expecting you to tell him about it, but instead you decide to show it.
Grabbing his hand that’s closer to you, you bring it up to your face and make him cup the side of your head, his thumb brushing against your cheekbone as you close your eyes and recall the memory, planting into his head as well, taking him back, like the two of you could travel time and space just that easily.
Bucky can barely believe what he is experiencing but he finds himself inside your memory and it all seems so real, as if it was happening in the moment. He is standing in the middle of a meadow filled with luscious, green grass and some kind of flowers, whites and purples and yellows dancing in the soft breeze. At first he thinks he is alone, he doesn’t see you anywhere around him and then he spots a woman in a long, light pink dress, her hair waving behind her in the gentle summer breeze and then he spots a little girl running behind her.
Bucky walks closer to the woman, but she doesn’t acknowledge his presence, she doesn’t even look his way and when he reaches out to touch her arm, his hand goes right through her figure, as if she was just a ghost.
The little girl finally catches up with the woman, a handful of flowers in her hands and when looks up Bucky realizes that it’s you as a child. Your main features can still be found behind the round cheeks and pouty lips.
“Mom! I picked these for you!” your younger self beams, holding the little bouquet of flowers up to your mother, who takes it with a bright smile.
“So beautiful, my love!” she hums, sniffing the flowers as you giggle at her. “But why don’t we use them for something?”
“For what?” you ask with a curious look and Bucky can’t help the smile on his face. It’s such a pure and joyful memory, he almost wishes it was his.
Your mother sits down in the grass, her skirt fanning over her in a circle as she pulls you down to her lap with your back facing her before she combs her fingers gently through your hair and starts braiding it, sticking the little flowers into the braid as she moves down. You start singing some kind of song, one Bucky doesn’t know, and your mother smiles brightly at your chiming voice. She braids with so much care and precision, at the end it looks perfect and very much princess-like with the flowers littering around.
“There. Now you are a bouquet of flowers yourself, my love” she smiles at you, kissing your cheek before letting you out of her arms, watching you dance around in your dress, singing to yourself without a care in the world.
Bucky wants to stay there, more than anything and see more of your younger version and your mother, but he is abruptly pulled back into reality when you pull his hand back from your face and the connection stops. His eyes snap open and they find yours, so enamored and in awe of what he just experienced, he feels like he was let in on a secret no one else knows in the world.
“Wow. That was… amazing,” he breathes out as his hand drops back to his lap while you just smile back at him shyly. “Is that… Is that what it’s gonna be like when you…?”
“Not quite,” you shake your head. “You won’t feel anything, you’ll just have to think back to all the memories you want to be changed or wiped. I’ll be the one stuck in your memories like you were in mine. And from inside, I’ll be able to change them.”
“Will I know later which ones were altered or they won’t be different at all?”
“There’ll be… a kind of shine to them when you’ll think of them after that. It’s gonna be the only tell that they were touched by me. But I won’t change anything you don’t give your consent to.”
Bucky nods, having answered his biggest concerns about tomorrow. Now he feels like he trusts you completely and you’ll be the first person he can open his mind up to without a worry.
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No matter how much you tried to get yourself ready for what you’d see in Bucky’s head, nothing could have prepared to the pain and darkness he had to endure during his oddly long human life. All the torture, the blood, the hurt and fear of death, it all comes down crashing on you even after the first session you have with him.
It breaks your heart that such a sweet soul had to go through Hell innocently and now he has to live with everything he was forced to do against his will. You can only hope that the people who did this to him have gotten their rightful punishment.
The first time the two of you sit down to start his treatment you get stuck in his head for hours, going through memories and altering them to take away anything that is connected to the trigger words. You witness the time he was captured and the first time he was sat into the chair that broke him. You can’t help the tears rolling down your face as you use all your power to change the memory and leave him with just a faded picture of his cell and held captive. Bucky asked you not to wipe them entirely, leave him with reminders of what made you be the way he is today and that’s exactly what you do.
When you finally come back you almost faint from exhaustion, Shuri catches you right in time before you could fall off the chair in front of Bucky’s who is equally dizzy, but he still manages to reach out and grab your hand to help you steady yourself. You feel drained and almost tortured, Bucky’s memories imprinting into your own head and you already know they will haunt you for quite some time. Not as long as your mother’s grief did, you were just a child back then and you couldn’t control your power that well, but even though you’ve learned to use your abilities, it will still take a couple of months for you to get rid of the horrors you saw in Bucky’s head.
Bucky sees how broken you look after just the first session and he doesn’t want to believe you’ll be strong enough to finish what you started.
“It’s fine,” you assure him when he asks you again in the evening if you surely want to continue. “I just have to rest and we can go on,” you tell him, giving his arm a squeeze before returning to your room.
That night, you wake from a burning nightmare with a scream, gripping onto the sheets with terror running through your veins. In your dream, you were the one strapped to that chair, going through all the pain Bucky had to bear decades ago. It was vivid and torturous and you know it’s going to return.
But you’re determined to finish the work and you do it over and over again, every day for the next couple of weeks. You go through all of Bucky’s darkest memories, altering and changing them until there’s nothing left from the Winter Soldier in him, just some faint and blurry pictures of him being held by his captors. You take all the pain and let it sink its claws into your own head, clouding your mind with darkness.
Bucky can feel the change in himself instantly after the first time you get into his head and a few days later he sleeps through the night for the first time in forever, oblivious to the fact that not far away from his room, you are fighting his demons every night so he can have his peace.
He is always the one to help you back into your room after an exhausting session and he wakes you up with breakfast in the mornings, always making your favorite. You tell him it’s not necessary, but he insists that this is the least he can do for everything you are doing for him, and he doesn’t even know the worst things you endure for his happiness.
He is always the one to request days off from the treatment, not for himself, but for you. He sees how trying it is and though you would never ask for time off, you don’t have to, because Bucky does it for you. Every third or fourth day he tells you he needs some time to heal and get used to his new mindset, but he just wants you to rest and recharge and though you know it too, you appreciate the gesture.
Some days he asks you to join him for walks just to get you out of the palace and you gladly say yes, desperately needing something to bring the light back into your life and it doesn’t take long to realize that Bucky is that light that can ease the heaviness of the pain you are fighting.
You love seeing his smile as the first thing in the morning, you love how he squeezes your hands every time before you dive into his head and how insists to carrying you to your room even when you’re perfectly capable of walking on your own. You love how chivalrous he is always, something Shuri told you was more common in the times he was born and you adore it that it’s a piece of his past self still present after everything he’s been through.
Bucky is the only one who can pull you out of the dark hole you’ve been stuck in and you promised yourself that you’ll never tell him the price you had to pay for his happiness, because he deserves every ounce of it and you wouldn’t want anything to cloud over it, not even your misery.
It takes five entire weeks to go through everything that turned him into the Winter Soldier and then the day to test if it has worked finally comes. Shuri has made sure to have a capsule ready for the test, one that would keep him under control in case you didn’t succeed and he would be triggered by the words he already knows too well.
“Are you sure I won’t hurt anyone?” Bucky asked cautiously as he was strapped into the capsule, a good majority of the Dora Milaje guarding the lab as well in case the test goes wrong, but both you and Shuri are optimistic about it.
“Calm down, Sergeant. We can handle you,” Shuri jokes before finishing up. “Alright, I’m gonna close this now, but you’ll be able to hear us and we’ll hear you as well,” she informs him and he just nods as she closes the capsule, securing him inside.
You sit on the side, but still close enough to see his face in the capsule. His icy blue stare finds yours and you give him a soft, encouraging smile. You do believe he won’t be triggered and not just because of what you did, but because he has a strong will and if there’s still any part of the Winter Soldier in him, he’ll be able to come over it.
“Okay, ready for the words?” Shuri asks him and breathing out he nods, closing his eyes, waiting for the inevitable.
“Желание,” comes the first word through a speaker and you hold your breath as you stare at his face through the capsule.
“Ржавый. Семнадцать,” the words carry on and you see him squeeze his eyes a little, fear taking over you that he might break, but it never happens. “Рассвет. Печь. Девять. Добросердечный…”
The trigger words ends and your lips part when his eyes open, noticing the tears in them as he finally realizes that he didn’t turn. The Winter Soldier is finally gone.
“Congratulations, Sergeant. You’re free,” Shuri announces as she opens the capsule and lets him out, sobs shaking from his chest before he is freed from the straps and able to step out of the capsule.
He is quick to rush over to you and wrap you in his embrace, both of you sobbing and crying and you hold onto him tight, as if he was just a memory that could vanish any moment, but he is there, flesh and metal, the Bucky you know and adore so much.
“Thank you, thank you, thank you,” he keeps repeating as his vibranium fingers tangle into your hair at the back of your head.
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It’s been over a week of freedom for Bucky and he hasn’t felt better in his life, well, not in this decade. Without the sessions, he now has quite some free time on his hands that he prefers to spend with you, actually.
The two of you have been joined at the hips since his recovery and not just because Bucky feels like he owes his life to you, but because you both can’t help falling for the other in the light of your newly found friendship that’s starting to slowly turn into more.
Bucky hasn’t been shy about showing his adoration and gratitude towards you, not after you’ve seen the darkest side of him and could still look at him the same way. He feels like he has bared his entire soul to you and you accepted it gladly, so there’s no need to beat around the bushes.
However you’ve been still trying to keep him away from the secret you’re hiding. He can’t find out about the nightmares, the screams and the tears you shed every night when his demons come for you. You can’t let him get close enough to see the price you paid for his own happiness. But even with all the cautions you’ve been keeping, you still can’t stop fate from finding its way.
One night Bucky is staying up late, binge watching a series Shuri has recommended for him. He didn’t intend to stay up so late, but before he could realize how fast the time has passed, it was already past two in the morning.
Shutting the laptop down he decides to get himself some water before finally going to sleep. Padding his way down the dark and quiet hallways in only a pair of sweatpants and a tank top, he unintentionally takes the route that goes past your room. He didn’t plan on dropping by, knowing you’re probably asleep by now, just wanted to feel that sense of closeness even in the middle of the night, but his original plans immediately change when he hears your deafening scream coming from the other side of the door.
His blood freezes in his veins and he is quick to turn into combat mode, ready to fight whatever is threatening your life, but as he pushes his way into your room he doesn’t find any intruder, it’s just you, curled up on your bed and even under the thick layer of covers, he can see how badly you’re shaking, your beautiful face churned into a painful frown as you keep your eyes shut.
He immediately realizes that you’re having a nightmare.
He rushes over to the bed and sits to the edge, the mattress dipping underneath his weight as he carefully places a hand to your trembling shoulder.
“Y/N! Y/N, wake up!” he softly shakes you, trying to get you back to consciousness, but you keep tossing and whimpering, a thin layer of sweat covering your skin.
“No, no, please! I’m not the Winter Soldier!” you cry out and Bucky freezes, his jaw clenching at your words, an eerie feeling running down his spine.
“Y/N, it’s just a dream, wake up!” he tries again and your eyes finally shoot open.
Though you’ve woken up, you don’t instantly see what’s really happening around you and you are quick to flinch away from Bucky, pushing yourself to the far end of the bed as you stare back at him with fearful, wide eyes.
“It’s just me. It’s alright, it’s me, Bucky,” he softly reminds you holding his hands up so you can see them. Your chest is heaving and your hands are gripping the sheets so tight, your knuckles are turning white.
“Bucky,” you breathe out and he nods.
“Yeah, it’s me. You had a bad dream, I heard you scream.”
Letting out a shaky breath you close your eyes and try to shake the vivid images that haunted you tonight out of your head, with not much success. Tonight you were beaten up in a cold and dark cell, the man kept telling you that you’re just a monster, a soulless nobody as he kept hitting you before he reached for a weapon that sent electricity through your body until it was too numb to move at your will.
You know it was one of his memories, because you’ve seen this scene before in his head and you remembered it clearly. Only that last time you saw it happen to him and now you were the victim.
“Fuck,” you breathe out, loosening your muscles as you gain your contact back with reality.
“What was the nightmare about?” he quietly asks and your gaze snaps up to meet his. You can’t read his icy blue eyes and for a moment you think about touching him so you could hear his thoughts, but you promised yourself you would never use your powers on him.
“Just… some nonsense stuff,” you lie shaking your head.
“Didn’t sound like that.”
“What do you mean?”
“I heard you beg to someone, telling them that you’re not the Winter Soldier.”
His face hardens as he inspects you while you try your best to hide anything that would tell him more about what you’ve been keeping from him.
“I don’t… I don’t remember it,” you shrug, scooting closer to him as you fix your pillows.
“Y/N, I don’t need superpowers to know that you’re lying,” he retorts and you almost flinch at his words. “Are you having nightmares because of what you saw… in my head?”
For a split second you think about lying. You think about telling him that it’s just because of what you saw and not tell him the real reason of your nightmares, but guilt has been already eating you away for not telling him and you wouldn’t be able to lie straight into his face. So you shake your head and your eyes meet his icy gaze again.
“I’m having… your nightmares.”
He looks confused, eyebrows knitted together as he is tasting your words, not entirely sure about what you meant by them, so you go into the details you’ve been keeping hidden from him.
“I can’t just take memories away and turn them into nothing, Bucky. Memories can only vanish if they get forgotten with time,” you start explaining, hoping you can paint the picture as realistic as possible. “When I changed your memories, I took parts away and… made them mine. And now I have to be the one to fight and forget them, but it happens faster for me than it would have happened to you,” you quickly add, as if it could make it any better.
“Why didn’t you tell me this is the cost of my recovery?” he snaps, clearly mad at you and he has every right, but you just wanted to save him. “I would have never let you do it if it meant you’d be the one to suffer for me, Y/N!”
“I had the chance to help you, I wanted to give you the freedom you deserve!” Tears are stinging your eyes as you stare at his harsh expression, the soft and joyful Bucky you’ve seen these past weeks is now gone.
“But it’s not worth it if you are being tortured by my memories now!”
“It was worth to me!” you snap back, a tear rolling down you cheek. “I might have been selfish for keeping you the details of what it would take to free you, but now you are the one who is being selfish, because you wouldn’t have let me help you if you knew and that’s exactly why I didn’t tell you! I chose to do it and I knew what I was getting myself into and I knew what it’s gonna cost.” More and more tears run down your heated cheeks, soaking your skin before they drop to your shirt or the sheets covering your lower half. Bucky stares back at you in disbelief as you reason about why you did it exactly. “You deserved this second chance and I was your only chance. If I didn’t do it for you, I would have had to live with the guilt forever that I let an innocent man suffer. It’s a small price for the happiness I was able to give you.”
Bucky is in total shock. He has had Steve do selfless shit for him plenty of times, hell, he wouldn’t even be here if it wasn’t for him, but what you did is just above everything that’s been ever done for him and he is having a hard time accepting that anyone would put up with so much pain and suffering for him willingly. He can’t decide if he wants to scream and shout at you for being so stupid or if he wants to fall to his knees and glorify your name till the end of times.
When you realize that he won’t snap at you again, you carefully scoot closer until you can reach out and touch his face, but you don’t even try to read his thoughts. Not this time. You let his thoughts wrapped in the darkness of the unknown. Bucky melts against your touch, his eyes fluttering closed for a few moments.
“You shouldn’t have done this, Y/N.”
“But I did,” you breathe out with a bitter chuckle. “And it can’t be undone, so you better accept it.”
He cracks a tiny smile, but it quickly vanishes as a thought pops into his head.
“If you have the memories that made me into the Winter Soldier, how come you don’t get triggered by the words?”
“I might own your memories now, but there’s a natural bond with the original owner that can’t be taken. It’s what makes them so vivid and real for you, but it will never be as real to me. The trigger words have no power over me, because the memories are not mine, I don’t have the bond with them.”
“But you still have the nightmares. My nightmares,” he breathes out, a hint of disappointment ringing through his tone, though you’re not sure if it’s because of what you did or because he couldn’t stop you from it.
“They will go away,” you assure him, but you can tell that his guilt is eating him away. “Bucky, I’ll be fine. A few weeks, at max a month and they will be gone. I promise you.”
“You don’t deserve this,” he mumbles under his breath as his hand reaches for yours, squeezing it gently before he brings it to his lips and kisses your knuckles softly. “You don’t deserve any of it.”
“But you deserve happiness,” you reply with a chaste smile that makes his heart flutter in his chest. “Let me give it to you. You’ve had enough pain, Bucky. I’ll take the rest now.”
Bucky stares back at you for a long second before he decides to do whatever he can to make sure you get through it as easily as possible. Pulling the covers back he slides under them, lying down next to you as he pulls you into his embrace.
“Go back to sleep and if you’ll have another nightmare, I’ll be here to wake you up from it and get your mind off of it. You’re safe with me,” he murmurs, as you lay your head to his hard chest, his flesh arm curling around your frame while his vibranium fingers lace together with yours on his stomach. You don’t try to protest against him, you know he won’t leave and quite frankly, you don’t want him to. Knowing that if you go back to the darkness again he’ll be here to pull you out relaxes you, doesn’t let you worry about what kind of horrific scene you are going to be forced to see when you close your eyes next. You melt against him, inhaling his scent, listening to his steady heartbeat under your head as you let yourself go back to sleep, for the first time, ready to face whatever is waiting for you on the other side.
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archonanqi · 3 years
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fragile as dust / 8 - the eleventh
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ch 8 | the eleventh
The rest of the day you spend running your fingers across the rows and rows of bound leather, taking inventory of all the words and knowledge and stories that were now at your fingertips — scurrying between the library and your room, arms full of books that caught your eye. 
Zhongli watched you from his seat in the living room each time you passed, offering comments on various books that you had picked out. He seemed especially amused each time you ran past with a book regaling a legend of the Lord of Geo, though you couldn’t think of a reason why. By the time the sun had set, every surface of your room had been touched by a book or two. 
You couldn’t wait to get started, already knew which ones you wanted to read first — there was one that promised the thrilling tale of Rex Lapis’ fight against the Beast of Nian that you were itching to devour. But before anything else, there was something you had to do, something you’d been planning as soon as you’d seen the “The Fine Art of Liyue Cuisine” title on the bookshelves. 
Zhongli had been kind — beyond that, really — about your situation, but you hadn’t forgotten that you were meant to be here for his convenience. You had done nothing but cause him trouble so far, and it was your duty to make up for the expenses you’d cost him. 
(Though really, and though you would never admit it, you couldn’t deny that on some very faint level, you wanted to hear praise, your name, anything come out in that rich, deep voice of his.)
So the next time Zhongli took his walk at Yujing Terrace, you reluctantly and politely declined his invitation. Minutes after his departure, you snuck out of the door, running as fast as you could towards the northern harbor. The recipe for the pen’cai stew had called for fish, but, as you grabbed handfuls of squid from the nearest unattended stall, you decided that seafood would have to do. Seafood was something that refined nobles like Zhongli ate, after all.
The tentacles felt disgusting in your pocket the entire way home, but it was fine. You could bear it for Zhongli. You couldn’t wait to imagine his surprise and delight.
Still, how odd that of all the ingredients, seafood was the only one you couldn’t find in Zhongli’s well-stocked refrigerator! 
When you got home, you breathed a sigh of relief that Zhongli had not come home yet; you didn’t know what you would have said if he had caught you with a pocket full of squid. After changing, you cracked the recipe book open, staring at it. You’d chosen this recipe because its description had stated “ no refinement is needed for this dish ”, but still, some of these terms flew right over your head. What the fuck was a “julienne”?
Zhongli had used the stove several times, mostly to heat up leftovers from the abysmal amount of food he frequently bought, and it hadn’t seemed too hard at all for him. You would learn, just as you always did. 
---
By the time Zhongli returned home, smoke was still billowing from the windows. 
---
It was all a bit of a haze for you. The oil had started producing bright sparks (in your defense, how were you supposed to make sense of “ Heat Oil Until Hot ”??), and you knew enough about cooking at least to know that that wasn’t good. 
You also thought you knew enough about cooking to know that embers had to be put out by water. The resulting bang had sent you rolling to the floor, and when you’d gotten back up, the curtains by the stove were ablaze
When Zhongli found you, you were frozen in fear — you had backup plans for if the food burnt, but this… this went a little past that. 
From behind you, you heard a loud whoosh, felt the force of the earth knock into you. The room became enveloped briefly in a golden glow, and as you watched, the fire faded into embers, then smoke. A single glowing, red gem clattered to the ground, before dissipating with a loud hiss.
“H-how?” Was the first word out of your lips. 
“When Geo reacts with—“ Zhongli shook his head, cutting his explanation short for the first time you’d heard, “never mind that. Are you alright? Can you move?”
You let him lead you outside, numbly, silently. Finally, out in the fresh morning air, he peered down at you. You searched his face for anger, but found only mild curiosity. “Now,” Zhongli said, sitting on the grass by your side, ”would you like to tell me what happened in there?”
The weight of what you’d done hit you like an angry boar. Treacherous tears gathering behind your eyes, you whispered “I’m so sorry,” barely able to get the apologies out fast enough. “I— I thought I would surprise you with breakfast, but— but the oil and the water...“ You trailed off when he raised his hand to cover his mouth — out of anger? No, there was a smile on his face. A smile!
“My my,” he mused, the smallest of smiles playing on his face. “Truly, you are a child of Liyue. Always trying new things, rushing in headstrong.” Zhongli shook his head wistfully. “It reminds me of myself, many years ago.”
“You?” You asked in disbelief, feeling your eyes widen. You hadn’t once seen him with so much a button out of place on his intricate coat; weren’t convinced he hadn’t come out of the womb drinking pu’er tea and writing poetry. “ You’ve set things on fire before, Mr. Zhongli?”
“More times than I can count,” his smile widened, and you felt like you had learned a secret of the Gods themselves. “But as I learned, so must you: you can always ask for help, Hansi.”
Suddenly, it didn’t feel like he was talking about cooking anymore. As always, his words were so slow, so deliberate that you scoured them for a hidden meaning. If you didn’t know better, you would be deathly sure that he knew of your difficulties with the Vision. And right now, sitting on the grass next to you after you had almost burned down his home, Zhongli had never felt more approachable. Maybe you could tell him, after all.
Starting a fire was one thing , you chided yourself. Lying about possessing the power of one of the Seven Archons is another.
“I will keep that in mind, Mr. Zhongli.” You said, instead, bowing your head a little. “Thank you for… not being mad.”
“It is I who should be thanking you for your thoughtfulness. And what is it that you were trying to cook for me, my dear?”
You almost jumped at that, feeling warm color blossoming within your cheeks. He probably called everyone that — he was so traditional, after all. “Seafood stew, Mr. Zhongli.” 
Finally, to your utter confusion, Zhongli’s smile bloomed into a rich laugh. “Then I’m very sorry I missed it,” he chuckled. “Are culinary skills something you would like to learn, Hansi?” 
“Yes,” you said, frustration and indignance culminating into determination. There wasn’t one thing you hadn’t been able to learn when you’d put your heart to it — reading, stealing, surviving. Well, except... “Please, teach me.”
“You deserve a far better teacher than I,” Zhongli said, standing up and dusting his coat off, before offering you his hand. “Let’s pay Wanmin Restaurant a visit, shall we?” Then, wrinkling his nose, “though perhaps... After we rid the house of any more fire hazards.”
---
At the counter of Wanmin Restaurant was a man you had never seen before, though his resemblance to Xiangling was striking. He perked up immediately upon seeing you and Zhongli approach.
“Mr. Zhongli!” He waved frantically. “Thank you for the medicine! My knee feels better already.”
“I’m glad, Chef Mao. I’ve heard that Bubu Pharmacy’s herbal cures are nothing short of divine miracles,” Zhongli said. “Though I hear from Xiangling that you’ve been gathering herbs near Jueyun Karst? You must know that it is extremely dangerous for humans to enter.”
“Of course, of course!” Chef Mao laughed good-naturedly. “You don’t have to warn me twice. I make sure to give that place a good berth —  I don’t have enough lives to go around meeting any Adepti. Now, what brings you here today? Xiangling or I will cook anything you’re in the mood for.”
Zhongli shook his head gently. “I’ll have to take you up on that offer some other time. Today, I was hoping to ask Xiangling for some culinary tutelage. This young lady here is looking to learn how to cook.”
“Oh!” Chef Mao peered at you, as though he had just noticed you. Of course, it hadn’t helped that you were trying to hide behind Zhongli the whole time. He turned around and yelled into the kitchen, “XIANGLING! COME HERE, MR. ZHONGLI AND HIS—“ 
A pause, as he glanced between you and Zhongli, trying to ascertain your relationship.
“Friend,” Zhongli supplied. You hated that your heart skipped a beat.
“—FRIEND ARE HERE TO SEE YOU!”
Almost immediately, Xiangling’s head popped out from behind the window, waving and beaming dazzlingly. As Zhongli explained the situation to her, you once again wondered where she was storing her endless cheer. Perhaps in her hairbuns. 
“I hope that it is not too much trouble,” Zhongli concluded, crossing his arms over his chest and stepping aside. You wanted to scream at the thought that he knew you’d been trying to hide behind him.
“Nonsense!” Chef Mao slapped his hands together, and you were beginning to see where Xiangling got her enthusiasm from. “If not for you getting Wanmin Restaurant this spot on Chihu Rock, why, Rex Lapis would never have found us and written such flattering poetry about our food. Then where would we be? No favor is too big for you, my friend, let alone something so trivial as this.” 
You glanced up at Zhongli, but his expression did not change. Just exactly how much influence did Zhongli have over the city? 
Just who was he? 
“Would Miss Hansi want to work as my apprentice for a few weeks?” Xiangling asked, thoughtfully. “With the winter coming up soon, we’re going to need a lot of ingredients, so I could use an extra hand. We can’t pay very much, maybe 1,000 Mora a week, but I’ll keep you nice and full, I promise!”
A thousand Mora — that was more than you had ever had at once in your life. You jumped to say yes, but stopped yourself just in time. It wasn’t up to you. For all Zhongli’s benevolence, what nobleman would want a servant (is that what you even were?) that they'd paid for gone all day? 
You looked to Zhongli for his answer. And when he only waited patiently, you prompted, “may I accept this offer, Mr. Zhongli?”
“You are free to do as you please, Hansi.” Zhongli said, and the surprise didn’t sting as much as it used to. “I think it would be a great opportunity.”
You had never been more sure of the following “yes!” that you almost shouted at Xiangling.
Chef Mao laughed. “We’ll see how much of that enthusiasm you can keep when Xiangling starts working you to the bone!” He waved at Zhongli. “Xiangling and I will show her around the restaurant. You should get back to your work, Mr. Zhongli — you must be a very busy man.”
Zhongli raised a brow, but did not comment further. “Will you be able to find your way back home, Hansi?”
After getting your affirmation, Zhongli nodded and walked away. You would have watched him leave, if you could, studying every detail on the back of his coat — but Xiangling grabbed your hand.
“Come on!” She was almost vibrating from excitement, and you couldn’t help but match her grin with your own. “There’s SO much I need to show you!”
---
By the time Xiangling released you from your duties for the day (and you had learned more words than you thought existed), the city had grown dark.
It had been so exciting, the prospect of having a real, actual job that you didn’t have much else on your mind. And so your first mistake, you realized too late, was trying to find the same shortcuts that Zhongli had used to get home. The alleyways at night were strangers to you  — and there was good reason for it.
You thought it was your imagination at first, but it became more apparent with every crawling second: there was another pair of footsteps that echoed each of your own. You quickened your pace, noticing the echo match yours almost perfectly. As you turned down deeper between the buildings, you forced your foot to stop halfway to the ground.
The echoing footstep clacked against the cobblestone. 
There was a flurry of movement behind you, your pursuer realizing that their cover had been blown. The figure lunged at you, and you ducked at the last second— you were used to bigger men throwing their bodies at you, had long since learned how to use their weight against them. With all your strength, you aimed a kick at the man’s groin—
Only for him to catch your ankle with one of his gloved hands, yanking you off your feet, and throwing you against the wall. The impact knocks all the air from your lungs. You scrambled to get back to your feet, coughing. Instinctively, you reached for your chest, where your Vision once was. It wasn’t there. Of course. And even if it was, what good would it be?
“Feisty,” the man remarked, leaning in to peer at you. In the dim moonlight, you could see a strange red mask hanging his cheek, stark against his auburn hair. At his hip, a Vision glowed royal blue, with a frame that you had never seen before. “What on Teyvat has Zhongli gotten himself into?”
---
“Who are you?” You snapped. The man kept his careful distance from you, but you were sure that he would be able to catch you in seconds if you ran. The way he had moved to meet your blow was practiced, skilled, even. It seemed that you had misjudged his intentions — he was not some drunken man seeking pleasure. “Are you from Bawang ?”
“Ba—what?” The man shook his head, clutching his heart in a dramatic show of dismay. “I’m hurt. Didn’t Mr. Zhongli not tell you about me? Not even a passing mention?”
Eyeing him carefully, you racked your brains. Was he a friend of Zhongli’s? Surely no associate of Zhongli would corner you in an alley at night and push you over... Right? You were realizing how little (absolutely nothing, to be exact), you knew about Zhongli’s life. 
 “Was the ‘who are you?’ not enough of a clue?”
The man grinned wickedly in the night, eyes glinting at your mockery. “What a tongue you have on you. Didn’t know that was Zhongli’s type.” He offered his hand to you. “I’m Tartaglia, codename Childe. Pleased to meet you.”
You stared at his hand like you would a can of live worms. “The one from the Fatui.”
The message received, he let his hand fall back to his side. “So he has talked about me. And here I was, thinking that he saw me as just a puppet.” He mused. You had no clue what he was talking about, but it was immediately clear that the man was dangerous. 
“Are you here to collect his debt? I don’t have any money.” 
“Debt?” Tartaglia laughed. “No, there’s no debt . Mr. Zhongli has unlimited access to the Northland Bank’s funds. Yeah,” he clarified, mistaking your shock for confusion. “Turns out, you need to read the fine print when it comes to making deals with the guy.”
“Then what do you want from me?” 
“Oh, come now,” he raised his palms in a placating manner, “don’t be so harsh. I’m only here to investigate. Zhongli has been buying enough food for a small army, and while it’s not entirely unusual of him, he also made a large payment to a certain company... that let’s just say even the Fatui won’t touch with a six-foot pole.” Tartaglia swept his glance over you from head to toe. “But you already know that, don’t you?”
You stayed silent, wishing to the Archons that looks could kill.
“I don’t know why he… acquired you, but believe me, he’s always got some kind of plan going on in that head of his.” Tartaglia sighed. “Anyway, where’s your Vision? 
You stiffened. “Vision?” You scoffed. The false disbelief came easily, naturally. “You think the Archons would give someone so pathetic a Vision?” 
“You can cut the crap. I saw the way you reached for it there. I’ve seen that look way too many times. Vision-holders who get too dependent, who think that having one makes them invincible.” Tartaglia’s lip curled. “A Vision wouldn’t have saved you from me, girlie. But someone as weak as you should at least be carrying it around.”
Every moment of the day, you thought of it, of how all your problems would be solved if — when — you mastered the power of the Archons. The thought that it wouldn’t, that knowing how to use a Vision wouldn’t make you invincible to the world, was devastating.
Before you, Tartaglia’s eyes were the color of the ocean during monsoon seasons, deep, roiling, devastating. You couldn’t seem to bring yourself to lie again, so you lowered your head.
“That’s what I thought. What element?”
“Geo,” you said quietly. The only thing you could do here was keep him talking, long enough until you could find a chance to escape. From what you could tell, he didn’t seem to be on too-friendly terms with Zhongli. Perhaps he wouldn’t tell him, after all. 
“Of course.” He nodded, as though there was no other answer.
“What do you mean, of course?” 
“ What I mean is —“ Tartaglia peered at you, raising a single brow. “Hmm. What does Zhongli think of your Vision?”
You bit your lip to stop from responding. This was dangerous territory. As the seconds dragged on in silence, you watched a glimmer of glee creep into Tartaglia’s eyes. “Oh! Oh my Archon. You haven’t told him!” The Fatui Harbinger threw back his head and laughed with abandon. “Oh, that’s great! This is beautiful!”
You waited a good half minute for Tartaglia to finally wipe all the tears from his cheeks. “Are you done?” You’d been slowly edging towards the exit of the alley, keeping your eyes trained on the Fatui. As long as you could get to Wanmin Restaurant you would be safe... but no. You couldn’t drag Xiangling and Chef Mao into this. You still didn’t understand half the things Tartaglia had said, but you knew that the Fatui’s attention wasn’t something you wanted, no matter who you were.
“Yes, yes,” Tartaglia huffed, fanning himself dramatically.
“What’s so funny?”
“My contract ,” he almost spat the word, “mandates that I stay silent about that one, sorry.  But don’t worry, I’ll keep your little secret. I’d love to see the look on your face when... Anyway. I’m here to give you an offer.”
“Next time, try offering over lunch or something,” you didn’t know where you found the courage to snap, “instead of in an alley.” 
“Sorry, sorry,” Tartaglia threw his hands up, somewhat apologetically. “It’s been so hard to catch you alone.” Had he been watching you and Zhongli? You grimaced. “But anyway. How would you like… all the Mora you could ever need? Anything you want to buy, eat or wear, yours, just like that.” He snapped his fingers. 
“…And what do you want from me?”
“Information,” he replied, “about Zhongli. How to fight him, really, but also anything else he—“ 
At this point, you were beginning to feel inclined to believe that the man was simply missing half his marbles. Finally feeling like you had put enough distance between him and yourself, you turned and ran — for a whole two seconds, when a strong force yanked you backwards. 
“Hey now, hasn’t Mr. Zhongli taught you anything about manners?” He tutted as you flailed in his grip, “I wasn’t done talking— whoa!”
He ducked, barely avoiding a projectile that whizzed past his cheek, so close that you could hear it whistle through the air. You peer at where it landed, firmly embedded into the brick wall. 
It was a golden spear that glowed dimly in the light. Its design was immaculate, intricate, beautiful , you thought numbly, as you watched it fade before your eyes. 
“Well then,” Tartaglia said tightly, “never mind  her manners. It’s not like you to get so worked up, Mr. Zhongli.”
You snapped your head towards the entrance of the alleyway. You’d recognize the silhouette anywhere, but in that moment, with the same spear gripped in his hand and his features edged silver under the moonlight, eyes glowing a ravenous gold, Zhongli looked particularly divine.
“If I were worked up , Childe, I would not have missed,” Zhongli said, twirling the spear once before setting the pole against the cobblestone. The way he moved -- natural, relaxed, as though the polearm seemed like an extension of his body. There was no anger in his voice, but you felt a slight tremor in the ground under your feet and, despite your situation, a jolt of excitement at the thought of seeing Zhongli fight, seeing a Geo Vision in use. 
“Oho?” Childe let go of your sleeve, crouching down low as glowing blue energy gathered in his hands. “Sure sounds like you’re asking for a fight. You have no idea how long I’ve been waiting for this!” 
Zhongli regarded him coolly for a moment. “Look around you. Is this really where you want to fight me, Childe?” He raised his head, and you and Tartaglia followed his gaze to a window. Behind the glass, you could make out a young girl’s face as she stared wide-eyed down at the scene below. 
To your surprise, the Fatui paused. You hadn’t marked him down as the type to worry about collateral damage. Finally, he shifted back into a more relaxed stance, waving his fingers clean of Hydro. “You know me a little too well, Mr. Zhongli,” he smiled, all hostility seemingly forgotten. You may have misjudged his empathy, but you certainly hadn’t imagined his unhinged nature. 
“What business do you have with Hansi?” Zhongli asked.
“That’s our little secret. Well, I’ll leave you two to… whatever it is you do.” He winked. “Remember, you still owe me a dinner sometime, Mr. Zhongli.”
“Certainly,” Zhongli said, lowering his hand and letting his spear disintegrate from between his fingers. “Though I must warn you, it will be the Northland Bank bearing the bill.” 
“Of course.” Childe chuckled one more time, as though he remembered something funny. “See you around, Hansi.”
---
On the way home, Zhongli was uncharacteristically quiet. As you entered the warmth of his — of your home, you tried to break the silence. “Thank you for saving me, Mr. Zhongli.”
Zhongli stayed quiet for a short while more, staring at you so intently it stung. “Forgive my silence,” he finally said. “When I couldn’t find you at Wanmin, I thought that you had been hurt or… that you had run away.”
Astonished, you didn’t really know what to say. Running away was a thought that had crossed your mind, but each time, the cons far outweighed the pros. You were more than familiar with what awaited you on the streets of Liyue. “I am not so stupid to be ignorant of what would happen to me if I did” There was a pregnant pause. “And besides, I have had no reason to, Mr. Zhongli. You have been more than kind to me.”
Zhongli smiled. Was it just your imagination, or were his meltingly gorgeous smiles coming more and more often? Trying not to let your thoughts wander, you blurted the first thing that came to mind. “That spear was beautiful.”
“Thank you,” he said. “It has served me well.”
“Do you really know how to use it?” There had been no weaponry in the house that you’d seen, but you believed him wholeheartedly.
“I am somewhat versed in its usage, yes.” 
“How long did it take you to learn how to fight?” You wondered, sincerely. 
“I have always known how to fight, for as long as I can remember.” Suddenly, his weathered hands made sense. With your notions of him growing up as a sheltered, rich noble shattered, you had never been more curious of his past. Had he been part of the Millelith? “Though, I have since come to learn that it was never true strength. Why do you ask, Hansi?”
You hesitated, nervously glancing away. Way to dig yourself a hole. “Just wondering.”
“Hansi, I gave you my word to keep you safe, to the best of my abilities. However, I fear that there may be times when I may not be by your side, such as tonight.” Zhongli seemed to think deeply about his next words. “Remember that if you want to learn how to fight, you just need to ask.” 
Tell him , a voice in your mind screamed. Tell him about the damned Vision.
As tempting as it was, you were indeed more than familiar with what awaited you on the streets of Liyue. You would not risk, even remotely, your position in Zhongli’s household.
“Thank you, Mr. Zhongli,” you mustered the warmest smile you could, as you stood up to retreat to your room. “I will keep that in mind.”
“That’s all I ask,” Zhongli exhaled deeply. “Good night.”
“Good night.”
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sophieakatz · 2 years
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Thursday Thoughts: Marvel What If’s Women Problem
Welcome back to the feminist rant!
I really didn’t intend to spend three weeks in a row writing about the Marvel animated series What If…? But I wanted to see this through.
Last week we talked about this show’s abundant use of the “fridged woman” trope. However, a show doesn’t need to kill its female characters in order to fail them.
Remember that time I made up a feminist movie test? I call it the “Want Test.” You can read the full explanation here, but here’s the summary:
This test requires that a film (or, in this case, an episode of a TV show) has at least one named female character. After watching the show, ask, “Does what the named female character want matter to the plot?” Then, score the movie based on the answer to this question.
If the answer is “Yes, what the named female character wants matters to the plot,” then give the movie a checkmark!”
If the answer is “Yes, AND this is true of multiple named female characters,” then the movie gets a check-plus. If these characters help each other get what they want, the movie gets a check-double-plus!
If the answer is “Yes, BUT her wants are an obstacle to a male character’s goal,” then the movie gets a check-minus. The woman may matter to the plot, but her importance is centered on her relationship to a male character and how much he matters to the plot. Often movies with a check-minus involve a male protagonist actively trying to stop a female character from getting what she wants; while she has an impact on the world around her, the movie isn’t rooting for the woman.
If the answer is “No, what she wants doesn’t matter,” then the movie fails the test. Give it a minus.
Okay, now let’s talk about Marvel What If. Once again, there are spoilers for the first seven episodes of this show below the cut, and some discussion of the plot points in the movies these episodes are based on.
When I compare the first seven episodes of What If to the Want Test, they each barely scrape their way to a check-minus (though after my rant last week, I’m tempted to edit my test so that a show that fridges a female character automatically fails). In summary, it does not matter what most of the named female characters want. Each episode has a single woman whose wants do affect the plot, but what she wants is always some kind of obstacle to a male character’s goal. Even when the women of What If survive the episode, the male characters’ feelings are the primary engine of the show.
As I neared the end of Episode Six, “What If… Killmonger Rescued Tony Stark?” I said to myself, “Well, at least Pepper and Shuri aren’t dead.” But then, in the last minute of the episode, Shuri and Pepper meet and state their intent to take down Killmonger. And I said to myself, “Okay, so why didn’t we get THAT episode?”
Sure, it’s cool to see two smart girls teaming up, but they don’t get to do anything! This episode repeatedly puts Pepper and Shuri down. Every time they express suspicion of Killmonger, someone contradicts them. What they want does not matter. They are obstacles to the men, and they are easily pushed aside, and so all they can do is stand in the background and watch while the boys run around and play war games.
If your named female characters only matter in the last scene of the show, then they don’t really matter. This episode wasn’t about the women at all. It was about the men killing each other and making each other sad.
*
I really don’t want to say much about the seventh episode, “What If… Thor Were an Only Child?”
What I will say is, “Why, why, WHY is Dr. Jane Foster more concerned about hurting the hot guy’s feelings than she is about how the hot guy is about to cause the end of the world?”
And I will also say, “Why does Captain Marvel need to be nice to Thor at the end of the episode after he spent the entire episode being a jackass to her?”
And I will end this section of the blog post by saying, “Frigga deserves so much better than any man in her family has ever given her.”
*
The second episode of this show, “What If… T’Challa Became a Star-Lord?” might be my favorite episode. Mainly because it’s the only one I genuinely liked while I was watching it. It was fun, and I was happy to hear Chadwick Boseman’s voice one more time. Overall, it’s a lovely tribute to both the actor and his character.
But, for me, liking this episode required ignoring a big problem: Nebula and Thanos’s relationship.
We don’t know exactly when in this timeline T’Challa met Thanos and convinced him to give up on the “murder half the universe” plan. But we do know that even before Thanos collected the Infinity Stones, he was roaming the universe slaughtering millions. We know he committed genocide against Gamora’s people the day he “adopted” her, and it’s safe to assume he did the same to Nebula’s. We know that he raised Gamora and Nebula to fight each other, and every time Nebula lost a fight, he replaced a part of her body with cybernetics, constantly torturing her.
What If never tells us that that Thanos did not abuse his daughters. It never tells us that he did not slaughter millions, including his daughters’ birth families. But it does tell us that Thanos is Nebula’s father. And he wouldn’t be her father if he hadn’t been roaming the universe killing people.
In this episode, we see an adult Nebula who seems to think her dad is annoying, but any feelings she might have about how genuinely terrible he is – feelings she was freely willing to admit in the Guardians of the Galaxy movies – go completely unmentioned.
Thanos and Nebula’s relationship is played for laughs, like they just need to get over their past and hug it out. That bothers me a lot. It’s like the show is saying that Nebula’s pain doesn’t matter. What matters is that Thanos is sad she doesn’t want to hang out with him.
I should also point out that in Avengers: Infinity War, Gamora gets fridged. Her feelings are unimportant to the plot; her stated desire to die before she can be used as a part of Thanos’s plot is mocked and discarded. When she is murdered, the moment of her death is all about how it would hurt Thanos to kill her. Gamora’s death also serves as motivation for Peter Quill to sabotage the other heroes’ efforts to stop Thanos.
Gamora is nowhere to be seen in this episode of What If. The women that Thanos abused really don’t matter here at all.
*
I’ve been putting off talking about this show’s pilot episode, “What If… Captain Carter Were the First Avenger?” This episode was… You know, it was fun, in a very similar way to how the Star Lord T’Challa episode was fun. I can’t lie and say I didn’t like seeing super buff Peggy Carter beat the crap out of Nazis. That was a lot of fun.
But the thing I couldn’t stop thinking while watching was, “This isn’t Peggy’s story. It’s Steve’s!”
Peggy Carter may have gotten the super serum in this reality, but Steve Rogers is still the main driving force of the plot. Peggy goes to Germany to save Steve’s best friend. She works with Steve’s allies, the Howling Commandoes, instead of finding her own. Steve’s issues and emotions are central to everything Peggy does; she may say in dialogue that she wants to end the war, but what we see is that Steve is her motivation. In fact, he’s everyone’s motivation – in the scene where Peggy, Bucky, Howard, and the Howling Commandoes decide to go take down Red Skull, they all go around the table and say that they’re doing it “for Steve.” Not because ending the war is the right thing to do, not because they care about the millions of people murdered and tortured by the Nazis – but because they care about Steve.
When I first heard about this show, I thought that Steve was going to die, and that would be why Captain Carter would exist. The interesting/ironic thing here is that the episode pokes at the idea of fridging Steve, but it doesn’t quite have the guts to go through with it. Everyone thinks that Steve died on the train, but then they find him in Red Skull’s castle, and he’s totally fine! Killing off Captain America would have been an interesting, powerful new direction to take the story. But this episode doesn’t seem interested in taking new directions. It seems more interested in showing how things would stay the same even if Steve didn’t get the serum, even if Peggy switched careers from secret agent to superhero, even if Bucky never became the Winter Soldier, even if Red Skull decided to open a portal to tentacle hell. Things just stay the same.
And I don’t get the point of presenting us with a show where there are “endless possibilities” if things are just going to stay the same. If Peggy Carter will still be a side character in Steve Roger’s story. If Hank Pym’s grief still matters more than Janet and Hope Van Dyne’s lives. If Thanos will still never be held accountable for abusing Gamora and Nebula. If Doctor Strange is still an arrogant jackass. If the only realities we see are ones where men get to act and feel, and women get to be plot devices.
The truth is that the Watcher just isn’t interested in showing us realities where women live and thrive in their own right. For all its emphasis on how different decisions can cause dramatic changes to reality, the creators of What If have no real investment in making different decisions in how they portray female characters. It’s just more of the same.
I’m done thinking about this show. Let’s talk about something else next week, okay?
Be good to yourself, be kind to each other, and you’ll hear from me again soon!
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sage-nebula · 2 years
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I wasn’t okay with talking about it much before, but now that things are looking a little better I think I can. Putting this under a cut, do not reblog it or I will delete it.
Basically what happened is, my parents are staying in Florida for the winter. (They have a place down there.) They left to Florida last Monday, both feeling a little under the weather. On Tuesday I came down with an illness myself, but I’m fully vaccinated against both covid and the flu so I didn’t think much of it.
Note: My parents are not vaccinated despite me telling them over and over again that they should be, especially since my dad is pretty old and has compromised lungs due to years of smoking.
Fast forward to this week. I’m mostly over my illness by this point. My mom asks if she can call me, I say yes. She calls me and tells me that they both tested positive for covid and that my dad is really, really sick. As in “has been in bed for 20 hours a day for the last four days” levels of sick. She also tells me that he refuses to go to the hospital. Why, I don’t know. My guess is that he was afraid of being put on a ventilator, but as I explained to my mom, ventilators are for people who can’t breathe on their own and are basically already dead (like your odds of survival once you’re on a ventilator are very low). The best way to ensure you get on a ventilator is by not seeking treatment before you get that bad. She agreed with me but said that he still refused to go to the hospital, that he’d had a fever for four days straight, that he couldn’t get out of bed, she had to force him to drink water, etc. I pleaded with her to tell him whatever she had to in order to get him to go to the hospital. She said she was trying and the call ended.
Well, I didn’t know when they had contracted covid, but since I was sick shortly after they left I went to the store and got an FDA-approved home covid test. I did both of the tests in the kit, both came up negative. So although I was sick, I didn’t have covid. This just goes to show how well vaccines work. If you haven’t gotten vaccinated already, get vaccinated. 
That said, once the thought that I might have covid wore off, I was left with the reality that my dad had been bedridden for days, was running a high fever, and was refusing to go to the hospital despite having a very serious and deadly virus. And I spiraled. I have a very complicated relationship with my father that I won’t get into here, but suffice to say that the thought that he could be dead in the next day or two hit me a lot harder than I thought it would. I cried, and cried, and couldn’t stop crying. I hadn’t cried that hard in seven years. The fact that I was furious that he was going to die of a totally preventable disease because he listened to faux news pundits who insisted the vaccine was dangerous / didn’t work / wasn’t real, and because he was for some reason refusing to go to the hospital, didn’t change that fact. Yeah, he deserved covid, but that didn’t mean I was okay with him dying from it. I don’t want him to die. I want him to live and be better.
But anyway, tl;dr, that’s why I was so upset on Monday. I was pretty convinced my father was going to die, and he was all the way in another state and I couldn’t do anything about it. I really needed comfort, but because of my current moving situation I’m kind of far from all my IRL friends (also it was really late at night, and on a work night no less). So I reached out here on tumblr. Thank you to all who sent nice messages, I really appreciate them still.
Anyway, today is Thursday and my mom informed me this morning that she finally got my dad to go to the hospital yesterday. Dumbass that he is, he wanted to leave after 30 minutes because they were taking too long to see him, but my mom is still sick herself (though not as bad) so she convinced him to stay by pointing out that SHE wanted the treatment, and as long as she was getting it, he figured he might as well stay and get it, too. So they both got antibody infusions (which incidentally means—and I verified this on the CDC website to make sure she wasn’t bullshitting me—that they can’t get vaccinated for 3 months, but the antibodies will protect them until then). They spent about 6 or 7 hours at the hospital, and honestly I wouldn’t put it past my father to sign himself out AMA (against medical advice), but she said that he didn’t have fever / chills today, so I think the antibodies are working. At least, I feel more hopeful today than I did earlier this week. I can probably keep procrastinating the eulogy a little longer.
Once again, thank you for all the kind messages you sent, and sorry for being cryptic about why I needed them. It’s just been a lot to deal with, especially since my own feelings were so complicated. But again, thanks.
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honeypiehotchner · 4 years
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i knew you (Bucky Barnes soulmate au) -- part eight
Oop another chapter! I knew this would happen because as soon as I say an update might take a while, my brain spits one right out. Enjoy! xx.
Warnings: nothing much! Things are getting figured out and GASP there’s a touch of fluff in the end :)))
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The conversation is going exactly as you figured it would. They want to bring Bucky in, continue the process of evaluation and extradition. But, you’re fighting it.
“Bucky doesn’t need to be evaluated and sent away. Bucky is fine, for lack of a better word. Yes, I admit, he might need some sort of psychological help, but that’s no different than any other soldier who went to war. At the end of the day, he’s just a regular soldier who went to war. You have to understand that.”
Everett Ross looks ready to combust. His arms crossed over his chest, he turns to look at Tony who is accompanying me in this meeting. Natasha is off with Secretary Ross to discuss revising the Accords, but will be back soon once we reach a compromising point -- which doesn’t look to be happening anytime soon.
“You’re telling me to listen to her just because she’s his soulmate?” Everett scoffs when Tony nods. “So what if he didn’t bomb Vienna, he’s done other things that we have evidence-- video footage, even, of him doing!”
“Oh, please,” you scoff, drawing Everett’s eyes back to you. “He was brainwashed. It was the Winter Soldier doing those things, not Bucky!”
“How are we supposed to know when he is or isn’t the Soldier, huh? How?”
“Because you can tell,” I snap. “I can feel it, and trust me, the Soldier is a complete contrast from Bucky. If he’s trying to kill you, then obviously he’s not Bucky. But if no one ever mutters those damn words to him again, then he’ll stay Bucky forever, and he can get back on the right track to recovery. Did we burn the book?”
“Yes,” Everett says through clenched teeth. “It’s been burned.”
“Do I get to see proof?”
“You want us to go get the ashes?” He deadpans.
“Please,” you mutter, adding a sweet smile.
Everett’s jaw clenches.
You watch as he orders someone to go find the remains of the burned book just for you to lay your eyes on. You know they’re only tolerating this because you know where Bucky is, but it’s fun to play with them.
While the guard goes to find the ashes, the conversation continues.
“Alright, as I said, he’s assassinated more people than anyone else--”
“He was brainwashed,” you nearly scream. “He did those things against his will. It was HYDRA that programmed him to do those things. He didn’t just wake up one day as Bucky and decide to kill some famous people.”
Next to you, Tony snickers, and when Everett glares at him, he holds his hands up in surrender. “She has a point.”
“Thank you,” you murmur, but then you’re back on track. “Would you seriously treat any other soldier like this? He was brainwashed, Everett.”
“Yes, as you keep saying.”
“Because you’re not getting it,” you snap. “You don’t understand. And you won’t, so I’ll stop trying to make you. But you have to at least have some sympathy. He was a prisoner of war. Would you treat the others like this?”
Everett stays quiet.
“They’re given medals, aren’t they?” You press on. “For their courage. For their bravery. For surviving. I’m not asking you to give Bucky a medal and honor him on national TV. All I’m asking is that you help us convince Secretary Ross to pardon him and to get him the help he deserves, so he can start his life over again.”
Everett says nothing, but he doesn’t have a chance to anyway. Secretary Ross enters the office with Natasha on his heels, as well as T’Challa.
“T’Challa,” you blurt, standing to your feet more out of surprise than royal courtesy.
“Y/N,” he returns the greeting with a nod. “You were right. I almost took out my vengeance on the wrong man.”
“Thank you,” I murmur. That’s one person who has seen the light.
“It is my pleasure,” T’Challa smiles gently. “Soulmates are rare and should never be taken away from one another.”
“Oh, seriously?” Everett’s voice interrupts us. “Soulmates are a fairytale. They are not enough to excuse this.”
“Excuse what?” T’Challa says. Everyone watches the King as he approaches Everett. “Do not take out your anger on those more fortunate than you. It is not their fault your soulmate could not bear to be with you.”
Your eyes widen. Everett wears a wedding ring, a simple gold band, but it must serve as more of a reminder than a vow.
Natasha steers the conversation back to its point. “Secretary Ross has agreed to revise the Accords, on the condition that all of the Avengers sign this time, not just a handful.”
You look to Secretary Ross in suspicion. “What’s the catch?”
“There is no catch,” he shrugs, beginning to pace the room. It’s an annoying habit of his. “We were listening to your conversation with Everett. And I, for one, stand with you.”
Still in disbelief, you stare him down, waiting for more.
“Barnes was indeed a prisoner of war. We don’t see it that way because in the past, prisoners have not been...brainwashed and programmed to assassinate. But he was a prisoner of HYDRA, and to treat him as the villain would be a grave disservice and disrespectful to his fight.”
You keep your face steady, not believing your ears. “What about the revised Accords?”
“It’s being drawn up now,” Secretary Ross announces. “Barnes will be pardoned for all actions, but he will also be required to seek psychological help. Government paid, of course. It’s the least we can do.”
“Okay,” you nod. “What else?”
“Well,” Secretary Ross sighs, clearly annoyed that you can see right through him. “I’m requiring that you sign the Accords as well, Miss L/N.”
“What?” You blurt, looking at Tony. “I’m not an Avenger.”
“Not yet, but you will be,” Tony replies. “You think I didn’t notice you stole one of my AI’s, by the way? If you wanted one, you just had to ask.”
“Stealing an AI doesn’t make me an Avenger,” you mutter. “And sorry. I was going to tell you eventually.”
He smirks. “I know. And you’re right, it doesn’t, but your skill does. You think those combat lessons I got you were for just anyone? No, those were Avenger’s level. Nat designed them.”
Natasha nods in confession. “I’m surprised you survived them. Nice work.” It’s a dry compliment, but it’s more than Natasha gives anyone, so it warms you.
“Yes, it was illegal earlier to try to escape with Bucky, but the fact that you are still standing here, that’s skill.” Tony stands from his chair to walk toward you, placing his hands on your shoulders. “You have the capability to be one of the best. You already are.”
You shake your head. “Tony, this is insane.”
“And so are you, if I do say so myself,” he jokes, removing one hand, but keeping the other to squeeze your shoulder comfortingly. “No one jumps off of buildings with Cap like that, like it’s nothing. You’re just as crazy as the rest of us.”
“Alright, fine, I’ll sign it,” you shrug his hand away, hiding your grin for now. “But I’ll need to think about the whole being an Avenger thing.”
“Deal,” Tony agrees, clapping his hands. “And Secretary,” he turns to Ross. “One more revision that I know Cap will want when he gets here: if we feel we need to go somewhere, we have to go. You can’t stop us.”
Secretary Ross doesn’t look pleased. “Tony, we talked about this.”
“No, but he’s right,” you step in. “It’s better to have the Avengers go somewhere they’re not needed, than to have them sitting at home when someone out there needs their help. It’s better to be safe than sorry, you know that.”
Secretary Ross thinks it over. He shares a look with Everett, who merely shrugs his shoulders in defeat. 
“Done,” he caves. “I’ll have that fixed. Now, where are they?”
“I’ll be bringing them in,” you reply firmly. “And I need to see that you’re true to your word, so this new Accords is going to be brought in and signed by the three of us,” you gesture to Tony, Natasha, and yourself, “and you,” you point at Secretary Ross. “No games.”
“No games,” he agrees. “I will be back with the new Accords.”
On that note, he exits the room, and so does Everett, though Everett does it more in the fashion of a stomping toddler. You roll your eyes when he glares at you through the glass.
“Good work, kiddo,” Tony praises, pulling you into a hug. “I’m proud of you.”
“Thanks,” you laugh. “And please tell me you were pulling my leg. I can’t be an Avenger.”
“Oh, that? No, I’m dead serious, sweetheart. We need you.”
“Hate that I’m agreeing with him,” Natasha chimes, a smirk on her lips. “But we do. I really wasn’t expecting you to make it through those training sessions, but when Tony told me you needed more, I was...shocked. Even Steve can’t get through those sometimes.”
Despite Natasha’s added praise, you still aren’t sure. “I still need to think about it. A lot.”
“Think away,” Tony urges. “But we’ll be waiting.”
“Yeah, yeah,” you shove his shoulder. It’s strange, acting so carefree and laughing right now when somewhere in an abandoned building, Steve, Sam, and Bucky are waiting for your call.
Bucky. You need to talk to him. You need to let him know that it’s okay that he doesn’t want to get to know you. Part of you hopes he’ll change his mind, but you know better now than to let that hope consume you.
Instead, you tune back into the conversations at hand. Natasha telling Tony about Secretary Ross’s face when you were going off on Everett. It’s enough to make even T’Challa laugh.
You trust your gut in knowing that everything is alright with Bucky, that they’re still just playing the waiting game. He seems at peace right now, maybe even slightly happy. You wonder what they could be talking about.
+++
“You know, when I told her that your favorite thing to talk about was her, she thought I was crazy.”
“Really?” Bucky feels himself smiling. “It’s the truth, though.”
“I know, that’s what I told her. I still don’t think she believed me,” Steve shakes his head. “I walked her home that first night, and started doing it every time we talked.”
“Good,” Bucky says without even thinking. He freezes after he says it, realizing the tone he just took on.
“I told her you’d kill me if I didn’t protect your girl,” Steve says quietly. “I guess I was right.”
Bucky’s smile deepens, but he doesn’t reply. Sam returns from his jog to say that they’ve given up on the search.
“I just watched three helicopters turn and head back. That’s gotta mean something good, right?”
As if on cue, Steve’s phone rings, and it’s you. He holds up the device to show the other two men. “I guess so.”
+++
Secretary Ross stays true to his word and brings back the revised Accords. To your surprise, he has everything listed, and is the first to sign.
Tony is next. Then Natasha. Finally, you sign the document. Spaces are left for the others, but you’re more than pleased that Secretary Ross is done playing games.
You call Steve to let him know things are settled and that you and Tony are on your way.
Once you arrive, Sam has to offer a sarcastic remark, “Took you long enough,” as he climbs in the backseat of the car. Bucky and Steve slide in beside him, both looking more like best friends than you’ve ever seen before.
Tony waits until they’re seated before taking off. You turn around in your seat to face them.
“So, Secretary Ross’s only stipulation is that every Avenger has to sign this one. But we amended it so they can’t stop us from going somewhere that we’re needed,” you nod to Steve, “and you’ll get your wings back, too, don’t worry,” you smirk at Sam. Finally, your eyes meet Bucky’s. “And you’re pardoned. Fully. I convinced them to see the light, so you don’t need to worry about anything from your past. Secretary Ross did add a clause that states you have to seek psychological help, but it’s fully funded. And I think that’s better than going to prison, you know.”
The slight humor in your words causes Bucky to smile, and you can’t help it when you feel your own lips stretching.
“Thank you,” Bucky says quietly, keeping eye contact, wanting you to know he’s being sincere. “And I’m sorry.”
You blink, forgetting for a moment that Tony, Sam, and Steve are sitting around you guys. For a moment, all you know is Bucky.
“Thank you,” you whisper, fighting back the tears. And as usual, you have to immediately follow it with some humor. “So...does that mean you’re done pretending you don’t know who I am?”
Bucky grins before he can stop himself. “I’ll never do that again, doll. You’re hard to forget, even after all these years.”
Tony clears his throat, effectively full-throttle slamming you and Bucky back to reality.
You quickly turn around in your seat, sinking down as far as you can go and ignoring Tony’s knowing smile.
There’s still more to talk about, things to work out, but at least-- at least he knows you.
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No time to die - part 1/2
->part 2
author's note: so this is a piece I started writing when I got bored in a family gathering like two years ago, and I rewrote it recently. This is the first part and I haven't finished editing the rest but I estimate that there would be one or two more parts. The story is about two high school friends that meet after five years of having no contact with each other and their confrontation. Also the name is inspired by the song with the same name by Billie Eilish 'cause I was listening to it while writing a part of this and the song really suits the relationship between the characters.
~1800 words
I’m feeling a burning ache in my abdomen, and my mind is full of different scenarios that this could lead to, one worse that the other. What if I call an ambulance? I answer myself within a fraction of a second that it wouldn’t lead to pleasant things though the alternative which is bleeding to death isn’t ideal either. So just when I’ve finally convinced myself to pick up the phone and call an ambulance before I pass out, a name crosses my mind. It’s the best and the worst thing that I can do at the same time, but well sometimes your survival instincts would take over your overthinking abilities, no matter how strong they are. And despite all my hesitation, I know the number by heart.
She picks up the phone after few rings, “Hello?”, I’m a bit thrown off by how her voice is the same but her tone is different from the last time I’ve heard her, “Hi”, my voice shakes and I don’t know if it’s from the injury or hearing her voice again. “Riley? Is that you?”, somehow she could recognize me from just that one word and at least her tone is less formal now. “Yeah it’s me, listen I wanted to ask if you could come here now if you can, but it’s totally fine if you can’t make it.” Maybe it’s the shock of hearing someone from your past, or my shaky voice that she agrees to come without any other questions and I tell her my address in the calmest pace I can.
Until she arrives I spend my time overthinking on how bad of an idea it was to call her, and why would she even bother herself with my problems anymore, like who in their right mind would hurry in the middle of the night to heal someone from their past that they tried so hard to abandon. But careful knocks on the door save me from my thoughts. I open the door and for a moment think that the option of bleeding to death at least could’ve saved me from the awkwardness of this, before I manage to say “Thank you so much for coming, I really didn’t want to trouble you”, she replies “Not that I love getting surprise calls at midnight but what’s the occasion?” and then she takes a look at me with her perfect hazel eyes and sees it, the blood soaking my shirt and says “holy fuck Ri, what did… what happen- it doesn’t matter now”
It takes her only few moments to get into her other sleeve, the doctor she was trained to be, giving orders and analyzing the situation, only stopping once to curse me under her breath that I should’ve told her to bring her medical stuff and that I’m a lucky bastard that she didn’t come totally unprepared. Then her inner doctor takes charge completely. I tell myself maybe outer, you know it’s who she is now, heal first talk later that’s what she does.
“Take your shirt off”, I obey without making a snarky comment because even I can tell it would be inappropriate. I can’t really describe the process of her stitching me up, because I’ve never been a big fan of surgeries to the point I even skip them when they come up in movies, and maybe beside how pain makes everything hazy, I can’t wrap my head around the idea of her hands on me.
When it’s done she gives me some final instructions and tells me to don’t move from where I’m sitting for at least half an hour. Then standing in front of me without taking a step, she looks at her watch and her gaze lingers to the door and I know she’s thinking about leaving, but decides against it, at least for now.
“So are you gonna tell me how this happened?”, she asks gesturing towards my wound that is now stitched and bandaged. I guess I’m too exhausted for anything but the truth so I say “I was working on a case, and it didn’t end well.” She glares at me, “Well I can see that clearly, but how did it turn that way?”, “my client was a small business going to court against a big company, I had some dirty things on them but they weren’t enough proof so I was looking for more and they sent someone to scare me off I think, but um I tried to resist and it escalated quickly and I got a nice killer knife wound.” “It wasn’t fatal,” she says, “What?” I reply a bit shocked, “I said it wasn’t fatal, the knife didn’t go that deep, what? You thought I could fix a fatal cut with couple of stiches?” to that I mumble that I really trust her abilities and she rolls her eyes. I think at this point we’re past the formal greetings and small talks and now that the crisis is over she seems done with my shit so she continues “So you’ve finally fulfilled your dreams and became the woman you’ve always aspired to be, a detective/lawyer hunting down bad guys and giving them what they deserve” she doesn’t even try to hide the bitterness in her voice, and so if we’re going there now, I won’t try to hide it from mine either, “And you’ve became a doctor, a life you have dreamed of from the beginning, never even thinking to be anything else.”
She sighs and drops to the couch in front of me, “So this is the time that you’ve finally decided to talk about it.” It doesn’t sound like a question, more like a statement. Maybe being in pain and exhausted sharpens your edges and makes the things you’ve hidden carefully to snap free because I can’t hold back when I say: “Says the one who just abandoned me overnight and decided to part ways forever without even a heads up.” The thing is I’ve imagined having this conversation so many times in so many different situations, that it actually happening doesn’t feel real, it feels like another one of those fantasies in my head except she is really here now, and my pulse is betraying me by beating so damn fast.
“I didn’t abandon you, If I had you’d still be bleeding.” And a part of me wants to just accept that and move on and embrace her, because I’ve missed her, hell I’ve missed her so much I want to hug her and never let go, and we have a lot to catch up on too, five years worth of memories. Five years that we were no more than outside observers in each other's lives, but the stronger part, the part that’s been hurting ever since wants to have this conversation, needs to have this conversation or else I would never stop imagining it in my head.
“Well maybe our definition of abandonment is a bit different, ‘cause changing your life course and treating me like a stranger and pretending like all our planning and dreaming for future never happened sure as hell fits in mine.”
“I never treated you like a stranger, you were the one who decided to not talk to me and have anything to do with me anymore and cut contact completely”
“Because I couldn’t do it like that anymore, like I was just another one in your new class, as if we didn’t have history, like what we had wasn’t something more. We used to joke about how disconnected we felt from them, not because we hated them because we were different, or at least I thought you were.”
“People change Riley.”
And for a few moments neither of us backfires anything else to the other, and my mind finds time to wonder for the thousandth time why we didn’t even call each other all these years. But well one of the things that made us close at first was how stubborn we were. I remember clearly when there was a debate competition in school and we were a team and crashed the whole thing. Beside our passion for the matter we were unstoppable, to the point that each match ended to the other team being like “dear god just let it go it’s over”, and remembering those days even now in the midst of this makes me a little calmer.
I can’t help but ask, “Was it because I tried to-“ before letting me finish she says “God no, you think I could transfer in a day? And for what? Not everything is about you, or what you do or what you want, I thought five years would be enough time to learn that”, and well I’ve always known that it was a coincidence that those two things happened successively. But deep down I couldn’t shove the idea away that it was all because she wanted to get away from me, that it was my fault and I shouldn’t have done it after all. I know that doubt has led me to be selfish, and to give up on trying to fix it, and to suffer more, and I don’t know how to defend it (or if I even should). Throughout all these years I’ve also imagined getting the answer to this question countless times, and how I’ll finally be at peace if I got this answer, but now I don’t feel relived as much as I wanted to.
“So you thought of me in those years?” I say in a hopeful tone still desperately clenching to this conversation, as if all this could be solved just if we have this talk. “Way to avoid my point right? You haven’t changed a bit, reckless and careless and always holding on to things that don’t matter much to the extent that you nearly got yourself killed,” but she says this in a kinder tone than the previous one, maybe even with a hint of worry in her voice. I finally give up on trying to get this conversation to fix it all, and decide that we’re too tired now, so I reply “I thought you said it wasn’t fatal.” A pause then, “It’s really late, are you going to leave now?” I hope that she can hear the silent ‘stay’ in what I just said. “I don’t think I can get a taxi now, can I? considering the time, and I don’t have the energy to explain all this to someone and wake them to pick me up”, “you can stay if you want?” and for all we’ve been through, I’m relieved when she agrees.
//end of part 1
->part 2
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bytheangell · 3 years
Text
Want the Same Things
( @shadowhunterbingo​ prompt: Drunken Confession) (Read on AO3)
Simon shouldn’t be drinking, but after everything that just happened at the Seelie Court he’s upset and frustrated, and can’t get out of his own head. He has the ridiculous idea that maybe getting drunk is the answer - maybe then his thoughts will be hazy enough for him to forget, at least for a little while. At the very least it might help him fall asleep, and he can’t suffer an existential crisis if he’s unconscious… he hopes.
Simon’s at the Hunter’s Moon because he doesn’t know anywhere else a vampire can go to get drunk. He wishes he had some sort of shady underground plasma connections and makes a mental note to get some in case the need ever arises in the future. Here and now, however, Maia takes one look at him and doesn’t ask any questions, only slides him over a drink. He’s grateful - at least if he can’t be somewhere he isn’t recognized he can be somewhere he’s mostly ignored.
That doesn’t last very long before he feels the presence of someone approaching and sliding into the stool next to him. Simon doesn’t have to look up from where his gaze rests firmly on the glass in front of him to know that it’s Jace. Jace Herondale, The Best Shadowhunter of His Generation. Jace Herondale, who is the very person Simon came here to try and drink away.
Jace motions for Maia to bring him a drink with a subtle hand gesture - Simon thinks idly that he must be a regular here if he can order without saying anything. Simon isn’t sure he likes the silence any longer, not when he knows it’s just building up to the inevitable, so he breaks it.
“You don’t have to be here,” Simon tells him coldly. “In fact, I’d prefer it if you weren’t.”
Jace takes a sip of his drink instead of replying immediately. “Clary said you weren’t answering her calls. I just wanted to make sure you were-”
“Please don’t say ‘okay’, Jace,” Simon pleads. “Nothing about this is okay.” Simon knocks back the rest of his plasma and orders another.
“I know I’m the last person you want to see right now,” Jace says. “But you have to know… Clary never meant to hurt you. You can’t be too hard on her.”
Simon closes his eyes, remembering the pained look on Clary’s face as she realized what she had to do, the regret he saw her direct at him before she turned to kiss Jace in front of him. The pain when he said he needed some time after they called things off... for now? For good? He can't think about that right now. 
“I hardly think ignoring a few calls is being particularly hard on her,” Simon points out. “I just need some time. And some space. I think I deserve that much.”
“But you’re alright?” Jace asks, and when Simon turns a pointed glare in his direction Jace has the audacity to smirk and say “What? I didn’t say ‘okay’.”
“I’ll survive. You don’t have to worry about me flinging myself into a fire or anything,” Simon reassures him. “I just want to get drunk and forget this entire day and deal with it later.”
Simon takes a sip of his drink rather than knocking the whole thing back this time. The sounds around him are muted a bit, and his vision blurs slightly at the edges. He can feel the haze set in and it’s nice. It’s the nicest he’s felt since it happened.
“Alright. I just wanted to say that I’m sorry. I knew better than to let you go along in the first place, I could’ve stopped all of this before it ever happened. And I should’ve. That was my call to make and I fucked it up. Also, for the record, Clary doesn’t know I’m here, she didn’t ask me to come or anything. In fact, she’d probably kill me if she knew I came to stick my nose where it doesn’t belong. I just wanted to make sure you were as relatively alright as possible right now… and I guess you are, so I’ll go, then.” Jace says what he came here to say and stands up, the bar chair pushing away from the counter with a scratching sound along the floor.
“You can tell Clary I don’t hate her,” Simon tells Jace as he gets up to leave. He looks back down at the table and mutters “She wouldn’t have been the kiss I wanted most, either.”
At least, Simon thinks he’s muttering that, but his voice is louder than he realizes and Jacee stops in his tracks
“What was that?” Jace asks.
“Nothing,” Simon says quickly. Perhaps a bit too quickly, because Jace sits back down and Simon curses.
“Simon…” Jace says, turning to face him, and Simon averts his gaze. “What are you saying?”
Simon knows he won’t get rid of Jace now, not until he explains himself. He could lie, make up some girl from school, or one of Eric’s friends or something, but he’s too drunk to think of anything convincing and just wants Jace gone.
“If I had to pick,” Simon says, still not looking at Jace. “I would’ve kissed you, too.”
Maybe now he can be alone - now Jace can leave in disgust or confusion or whatever, and Simon can get the peace he came here for. Simon braces himself for the inevitable fallout and instead finds Jace’s hand wrapping around his wrist and pulling him unsteadily off his barstool and toward the door.
Simon, who hadn’t quite braced for this reaction, is helpless to do anything but allow himself to be led outside and around the corner into the small alley next to the bar.
“If you’re going to hit me-” Simon starts, not sure why Jace would hit him for that but not sure what else he would want to drag him into an alley for.
“I’m not going to hit you,” Jace says. “I just didn’t want to do this in a room full of people.”
Then, in another move Simon absolutely never would’ve predicted, Jace brings his hands under Simon’s chin, tilting Simon’s face over and up ever so slightly to look directly into his eyes. Whatever Jace is looking for, he must find it, because a moment later Jace leans forward and kisses Simon.
Simon wonders if he’s hallucinating. Maybe there was something off with that plasma, or maybe he got too drunk and fell asleep at the bar and this is all just a dream. But the brick behind him feels real enough, and so do Jace’s lips on his which now move to return the kiss eagerly.
When Jace pulls away Simon blinks at him a few times, the shock settling in properly now in the aftermath of their kiss.
“You can’t be too surprised after all the flirting I did this morning,” Jace points out.
Simon thinks back to little moments he wrote off as Jace just teasing him.
“I said you had a pretty face. I talked you up to the Seelie Queen,” Jace adds for emphasis, in Simon’s silence. “I don’t say nice things about anyone. Ever.”
Simon starts to smile. “But you did about me.”
“Now you’re getting it, Lewis,” Jace says.
“As much as I’d love to hear more nice things about me,” Simon says hopefully. “Maybe we can go back to the kissing?”
Simon watches as Jace laughs with a smile that lights up his whole face before leaning in again, wasting no time complying with Simon’s request.
Suddenly, Simon doesn’t want to forget a single detail about this night.
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lady-star-strings · 3 years
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DNF/Georgebur PotO & LND AU
Okay, to begin with, thank you so so much for giving me the chance to blab about this @dtvibez because I’ve always wanted to work with this AU, but I’ve just never had the characters to do it with and my musical nerd heart is thriving right now. Alright, anywhodilydo, geek-out over, let’s get into it - just a warning kiddos, this is gonna be a long one so strap in and hold on...
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Roles
To start off, let’s address the roles here for how I believe these plots would fit best with the characters involved - it’s purely up to individual interpretation, but these are my thoughts as an in-depth lover of these musicals.
Obviously, our dear George is the leading lady Christine Daae in this story, that was pretty much a given - let’s just be honest here guys, he’s the simp-bait through and through and if that wasn’t Christine, I don’t know what was. Meg - Christine’s friend - and her mother Madame Giry I’m going to combine and make Fundy for reasons I shall disclose later in this post, and Sapnap will have a role to discuss later down the line too, just lemme get there. Now as for the love interests, I can easily say that Eric/The Phantom is Dream and Raoul is Wilbur in this situation. Some of you might be questioning why it wouldn’t be switched because Raoul was her childhood friend and Eric was a gifted musician, but I have answers for you ahead on that, don’t you worry~ ;)
Phantom of the Opera Arc
After studying under Dream - or the Nightmare of the Opera as people prefer to call him - for years to be the star singer he was always destined to be, George is finally granted the chance to do so when some strings are pulled behind the scenes to give him a leading role in an opera. There isn’t anything George wouldn’t do for his Angel of Music after giving him such a chance at success, and Dream is practically preening with pride over how astounding his Georgie has turned out to be. Before Dream can whisk George away in triumph, however, his childhood friend Wilbur shows up out of the blue to shower him in praise and remind him of the puppy love they shared as children before George moved to the opera house. George is smitten with nostalgia, to say the least - it’s nice to put a face to the affection for once.
Needless to say, Dream is hardly pleased with this turn of events and actively tries to keep George not only away from Wilbur, but also to himself because George is quite literally all he has in the world - not even his music can compare to how much George means to him. Of course, the way he goes about this is hardly morally right and only serves to drive George further and further away from him and into Wilbur’s arms as a safe haven from all of the horrors. In the end, though, even after so much heartbreak and all the terrible things Dream’s done to keep him hostage as his muse and love, George finds it in his heart to forgive him for being how the world made him to be and genuinely offers to give up his freedom if it means he won’t be alone in that darkness anymore and Wilbur won’t die.
As expected, Dream realizes he really can’t do that George when it comes down to it - he simply loves him too much to force him to stay if it means he’d wind up hating him for it in the end. He’d rather let him be free and live the life he’s been dreaming of with Wilbur than have him stay and live the rest of his life resenting him. Even so, George is surprisingly hesitant to leave and can only offer to return the wedding ring Dream gifted him as a final goodbye and a silent show of his remaining love for him before he let’s him go in return and goes off with Wilbur. Following that night, Dream disappears from the opera house altogether, never to be heard from again...
Love Never Dies Arc - *SPOILERS*
...Or so the story goes in Paris 10 years ago. Little did anyone know, Fundy actually helped Dream steal away from the opera house when the mobs came searching for him and was unyieldingly by his side as they made their way to America for a fresh start. Once there, Dream - with a little seedy behind-the-scenes help from Fundy - founded a successful side show on Coney Island where he and others like him such as Sapnap and Punz - Miss Fleck and Dr. Gangle - are able to live freely and are treated with respect for their unique traits. Fundy has actually taken to training under Dream to be a successful singer in his own right with a well-known show in the attraction, his only goal to gain Dream’s favor and hopefully prove he’s able to replace George in his life. Dream unsurprisingly has no interest in anything of the sort and still actively mourns the loss of his muse - not even his music brings him joy anymore because it only reminds him of what could’ve been, and Fundy will never be his Georgie despite how much he insists otherwise.
But Dream is a clever thing, and he winds up securing a contract for George - who is now married to Wilbur and is raising a 10-year-old son with him - to come perform at the side show for one last performance. George takes the contract with little to no thought as to the odd pseudonym on the paperwork because Wilbur has lost himself to gambling and alcohol over the years, and they’re desperate for money to survive. At first, George is irate and somewhat heartbroken to learn that Dream’s been alive after all these years, especially after how their lives have turned out following the one night of passion they shared before he disappeared. He admits he still loved Dream when he left and would’ve gone with him, but because he thought they couldn’t be happy and left without him, that ship has long since sailed. They both wish things could have been different, but also accept that what happened happened and all they can do now is move forward with the choices they’ve made.
Much to everyone’s immense shock, though, George’s son is actually Dream’s and not Wilbur’s - a fact which Dream deduces on his own after connecting the dots between his age and musical prowess. Unfortunately, the child is terrified of Dream’s true face just as George once was and after getting the truth confirmed about the child’s real parentage, he begs for him to never know. George ultimately blames himself for what’s happened, and although he can’t take back not telling Dream of their child and the fear said child feels toward him, he swears to perform for him one last time to make up for it before they return to Paris to avoid hurting him further. Meanwhile, Dream vows everything he’s worth in the world to be the child’s once he’s gone even if he can’t be his father, and Fundy isn’t happy to hear that in the slightest because he will have nothing after all the sacrifice he’s made for Dream. All of the sleazy deals and late nights in his dressing room plying people for Dream’s success, and he will get nothing - his mind is just too fragile to face that reality at this point without doing something rash.
Naturally, Wilbur has no clue about any of this at first and makes a drunken deal with Dream regarding George - if George sings for him, he and the child will stay with Dream and Wilbur will leave. If George doesn’t sing, he and the child will leave with Wilbur with all of their debts wiped away as not to burden their family further with his problems. Wilbur then proceeds to try his best to convince George to stay with him by using nostalgia yet again since he now knows who the child belongs to as well, but in the end, George realizes that although he may have loved Wilbur at one time, his love for Dream transcends all that and has never once wavered despite everything they’ve been through. Throughout everything, Dream has always been there waiting for him and wants nothing more than for George and their child to have the life they deserve - Wilbur lost all of that a long time ago. George makes his choice, and Wilbur leaves as promised with the acceptance that he while no longer makes George happy, Dream does and he’ll take care of him - but the child, however, leaves with a distraught Fundy seeking to “right his problems.”
They manage to catch up to Fundy in time to avoid disaster, but not completely as he still views George as the reason he could never be happy with Dream and winds up fatally shooting him in the midst of a mental breakdown. Dream can do nothing but hold George - the man he loved and was finally loved by in return  - as it’s revealed to the child who his real father is, only for him to flee the scene in horror of the truth. For once, Dream is at a loss for what to do because there isn’t any more time for them to have their happy ending and he hasn’t any idea what to do about their child without George. In his dying moments, George soothingly reminds him of one simple fact: Love never dies, and the best thing he can do is just live and give everything he can for both himself and the child now as all they have is each other. With a final kiss, George slips away and a sobbing Dream is left cradling his body when the child and Wilbur - who he ran to find to help George after he was shot - arrive on the scene. 
Dream isn’t cruel. He understands how Wilbur must feel in the same situation, so he allows him to mourn the loss of George in his own way with the child as he contemplates whether or not he can continue on. While he debates what to do with himself, the child slowly comes to him unafraid and willing to face the man he now knows to be his father in a new light. In his eyes, Dream can see George, and that’s more than enough for him to stay just a little longer in the world.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Sorry if that’s a lot to process and read through, but it was a lot to get out and I wanted to be crystal clear on things as not to confuse people. This is for the most part just hitting the main plot points of the musicals, however, tweaking and adjustments and further deep-dive analyses can be done now that I’ve gotten the main idea out of the way. I definitely don’t want to stick too strictly to it myself and want to tailor it more to the SMP events and characters, but I’ll save that for later since it’s already super late and I should be writing my fic instead.
Happy writing kiddos, thank you for letting me indulge myself with this concept and I hope you enjoyed it~ <3
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kaerserenkink · 3 years
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👀 trans and nb anything, huh? I love trans man geralt being super confident maybe lovin on lambert who is also trans (could be masc/femme/nb take your pick) and not as confident. Eskel is dating both of them in a V but when he mentions lamb having dysphoria or being shy about being pleasured, geralt jumps right on that and offers to just completely spoil lambert (maybe while eskel watches maybe private) and help build lambs confidence. Sorry that this is OSHA safe im soft!
That is the OPPOSITE of a problem, I am also soft. Featuring non-binary femme leaning Lambert (he/they, leaning mostly towards he), trans man Geralt with only top surgery, and Eskel who loves his partners in a modern AU. Also wow the euphoria I got from writing this, thank you! Have nearly 2k, I have never heard the word concise before.
---
Geralt was mostly asleep when Eskel rolled over in bed and said, "You know Lambert?"
Geralt sleepily cracked an eye open. "Yes, Eskel, I know your boyfriend who's asleep in the same house we are in and who made us all dinner 5 hours ago, who I have lived with for two years now and known since we were kids."
Eskel flicked him in the forehead, but lightly. “Dick. Sorry, just... This is serious, alright? I just… he's been really dysphoric lately and uncomfortable with sex and I don't know how to help. I don’t know how to make him feel better."
Geralt pried his other eye open. Apparently this would be more of a conversation than planned. "That is a problem."
"Mmhmm." Eskel sighed, shifting so he could rest his head on Geralt's shoulder. "Can you...I don't know, try and talk to him?"
"I’ll spoil him rotten for it,” Geralt promised. “And talk, too.”  
Lambert was at the stove when they finally got downstairs in the morning, and Eskel made the sweetest little punched out noise as he made a beeline to him. Geralt smiled as he watched Lambert yelp at arms wrapping around his waist and Eskel kissing up his neck, but it was very sweet, and there were delicious omelets for breakfast. 
Geralt made it most of the way through the meal before saying, “So, Lambert. We should fuck so you can get used to new kinds of sex. Thoughts?” 
Lambert promptly choked on his orange juice. 
It took approximately two weeks of convincing that Geralt was actually serious, and then Lambert stomped into Geralt’s bedroom one night that he was supposed to be in Eskel’s bed, put his hands on his hips, and demanded, “Well, fuck me then.” 
“Sure,” Geralt said easily, looking up from his book. Lambert went a beautiful shade of red. Eskel, who walked in behind him, made a noise like he’d been punched in the gut. “Can Eskel watch, or are we kicking him out?” 
“The voyeur can stay, if he behaves,” Lambert said with a haughtiness that he couldn’t quite make real, and Geralt just smiled, snapping his book shut and tossing it on the bedside table. 
“Well, better strip then.” 
Lambert hesitated, looking at Eskel. Eskel looked back. “You’re sure you’re okay with this?” 
“What, watching both my partners in bed with each other? Watching Geralt get to spoil you with all the nice things you deserve? Watching Geralt and you at least make out? Fuck, how will I survive.” 
Lambert rolled his eyes, relaxing. “Horny bastard.” 
“Yes, absolutely,” Eskel said, and caught his jaw to pull him into a kiss. Lambert shivered pleasantly, going pliant in his grip, and Geralt licked his lips as he watched Lambert melt against Eskel’s broad form. When Eskel pulled back, he purred, “Be good for Geralt, baby.” 
Lambert stuck his tongue out, but obediently started to pull his clothes off as Eskel went to sit in the chair. Geralt, who’d been lounging comfortably nude, enjoyed the view. Lambert hesitated as he pulled off his shirt, but tossed it aside to reveal a lovely lace bralette straining to hold a very lovely pair of new tits. Geralt groaned, pulling the covers off and standing up to fish through a pile of things for a towel. 
“What’s that for?” Lambert asked, suspicious. 
“Me,” Geralt said, tossing it on the bed. “Give it a few minutes and I’m going to be soaked just from looking at you.” 
Lambert looked torn between flattered and nervous, and shucked off the long skirt he’d been wearing to reveal matching lace underneath. Geralt sprawled back in bed, licking his lips. 
“Eskel get you those?” 
Lambert shook his head, fidgeting with the adorable little bows on the sides of the underwear. “I um. Bought them for myself.” 
“Good choice. So, in bed. He, they? Anywhere I shouldn’t touch?”
Lambert bit his lip. “He, I think. And I don’t want you playing with my ass.” 
“Fair enough. Don’t stick anything in me and we’ll get along perfectly. C’mere,” Geralt crooned, beckoning, and Lambert nervously came over. “C’mon, Lamb, up on the bed here. Come straddle me so I can get a good look at you.” 
After a hesitant look at Eskel, Lambert climbed onto the bed and carefully onto Geralt’s lap. Geralt’s dick, which was plenty long for his purposes, was already red and straining, and he groaned as Lambert carefully straddled his hips. 
"Look at you," he breathed. "Beautiful already and you aren't even done."
Lambert went a delicate shade of pink. "Shut up."
"Don’t want to," Geralt said, savoring the view and smoothing a hand down the soft skin of Lambert’s side. The dip where his waist has started to dip inward was mouth watering, the new plushness and width of his hips beautiful. His pelvis had started to shift a bit ago, early but not unexpected. His tits were growing in nicely, hanging pretty on his chest in perfect little handfuls, his hair grown out almost to the start of the curve. Lambert’s toes curled as Geralt smoothed his hands over his chest. "Fuck, look at you. How’s Eskel able to even keep his hands off of you?”
“Mostly because I tell him no and if he complains I step on his dick until he cries,” Lambert said dryly, and Geralt laughed, reaching around to unhook the band with one hand. There were only the two hooks, barely a moment’s work, and Lambert bit his lip as his tits relaxed forward, already overgrown the cups holding them back. Geralt pulled the bralette off and flicked it over to Eskel without even looking, eyes fixed on Lambert’s chest. 
He gently cupped the soft curve of breast in his hand and smoothed a thumb over the soft pebble of a nipple, and watched Lambert shudder with it. "Have you been sore?" 
“A bit,” Lambert said, and his voice had gone small and nervous. “So what?”  
“Just means I need to be nice and gentle,” Geralt said. “Ready?” 
“For wha- holy shit!” 
Geralt grabbed him by the waist and in one smooth move had flipped them, pressing Lambert down into the mattress. He bent down to gently run his tongue over the swell of his breast. Lambert made a shocked little noise, arching up into it, and Geralt ever so gently ran his teeth over on the way back down. 
“Oh, fuck,” Lambert breathed, fingers threading into his hair. “That. That’s new. That’s nice.” 
“You’re going to be really sensitive here for a long time,” Geralt said, tonguing over the nipple again to make Lambert squirm. “Maybe forever. Mine were so small they were always begging for attention, it was nice. Work them nicely and you might even be able to get off on it.” 
“No way.” 
Geralt chuckled, sucking the nipple into his mouth. Lambert whined, arching up under him and gasping. Geralt let go with a little pop, licking his lips. “Yes, way. They’re so cute, no wonder Eskel’s all over you all the time.” 
Lambert squirmed, looking away. Geralt caught his face in his hand, forcing him to turn back. “Hey, don’t run away. What’s wrong?” 
“I’m- I’m not right,” Lambert muttered, making a face. “Not yet. I’m awkward, and clunky, and I don’t look like myself anymore, or yet, I don’t know.” 
“Mmm, but you know what we see?” Geralt said, and kissed him, slow and sweet. Lambert melted into it without even meaning to, letting out the sweetest little moan as Geralt urged his mouth open to deepen it. He could hear Eskel shifting in his seat, and slid his hand up to stroke and tweak at Lambert’s sweet little tit again, making him tremble. When he finally pulled away Lambert’s eyes were hazy, his mouth hanging invitingly open for more kisses as he panted. 
“You look more like yourself every day,” Geralt promised. “That’s what we see. And one day you’ll see yourself exactly how you want to look. Day by day you get closer, I promise you.” 
Lambert licked his lips and nodded, his eyes brightening a little. 
“Now,” Geralt said, bending back down to kiss his neck. “Can I spoil you, sweetheart?”
“Please,” Lambert breathed, turning his head to give him better access. 
Geralt bit down, and Lambert writhed, whining. Geralt could hear Eskel swallow from across the room, and smiled against his skin. That was the fun thing about estrogen, after all. The urge to fuck might go down, but the body was so much more active and fun to tweak out responses from, erogenous zones getting massive and tender, intimacy that more intense. 
He worshipped every inch of Lambert’s body, finding the tender spots that had him begging and whimpering. The sweet little tits were lovingly worshipped and nipped at, with a tongue to soothe the ache. His neck was equally loved, his collarbones leaving him trembling. Places on his ribs made him writhe, bruising bites sucked into the curves of his hips had his hands in Geralt’s hair to keep him in place. Finally, when Lambert was sweat soaked and shaking, Geralt kissed his way back up his torso, pausing for a quick kiss to each heaving swell of chest, and caught his mouth in a hungry, deep kiss once again. Lambert was gasping for breath, and cried out as Geralt’s hands squeezed his hips, running over the jut of his hipbones. 
“There you go,” Geralt urged as Lambert choked on sweet, gasping cries, fragments of Eskel’s name and Geralt’s. “It’s alright, sweetheart, whenever you want.” 
All it took in the end was the gentle brush of fingers along the length of Lambert’s beautiful, weeping cock through the lace and he was arching up against Geralt, head tipping back and toes curling at the sweet, gentle luxury of it all, moans swallowed up by Geralt’s mouth on his. He was beautiful, shaking and sweet, face all blissed out in pure pleasure, arms thrown around Geralt’s shoulders to hold him and keep from shaking apart. Geralt reached down and finished himself off as he mouthed down Lambert’s neck, shuddering as he came with a hard, vicious spine rush of pleasure. 
Lambert collapsed back on the bed, panting, and Geralt followed him down, pinning him to the bed with his weight. After a moment, he sat up enough to catch Lambert’s jaw and make him turn his head to look at Eskel. 
“There you go,” he murmured, as Lambert drank in the sight of Eskel, flushed and clutching the chair, a dark mark on his jeans and Lambert’s lace bralette over one leg, all innocent. “Got him to come just by watching us, pretty thing.” 
Lambert grinned, sweaty and pleased. Geralt smoothed his hair back, catching his mouth in another sweet kiss as Eskel groaned. When Geralt pulled back, Lambert’s hand came up to tangle in his long hair. 
“So…” Lambert said, eyes big and mischievous. “When can we go again?”
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Text
I find myself increasingly concerned with the direction Legends Arceus is taking the relation between humans and Pokemens. No, I'm not talking about the bit with Pokemans attacking the player directly when you don't have your own Pokeymans ready, that was going to happen eventually, but just... the Sinnoh myths had stories about humans and Pokemon being so close they were considered the same sort of being, there's marriages, what have you, coming from thousands of years back. But this game apparently taking place only some hundreds of years ago... and it's "before Pokemons and humans lived together uwu"? The fuck? I feel like the games have been significantly moving away from humans and Pokemon being equals of a sort who both benefit from being together to Pokemons being some superior beings who humans benefit from but not vice versa and Pokemans are the superior creatures who humans should grovel in gratitude to and put up with all the shit from while never daring to burden them in any way. See gen 7, where living in haaaaarmony means having their lives and culture corralled by some asshole fairies because people can't be arsed to fight the ultra beasts, except the trainers who're forced to become kahunas fight the UBs themselves anyway (where they're forced to become fanatical enough about fighting to become strong enough to do so, but they're not even expected to be strong to fight UBs it's to lead their community... don't try understanding it just eat fairy shit and get excited for more fairy shit I guess). Why not just have a culture of the trainers who want to be strongest, or who have the greatest talent, being lauded as UB-fighters and becoming community leaders as well? Naw man, doing everything as the fairies want is haaaaarmony. Humans can't be strong enough with their Pokemon teams to fight the UBs, but have to be strong for other reasons ordained by The System, but then the ordained stronk humans have to fight the UBs anyway. But the fairies help, I guess. I fucking hate fairies man. Fucking elves of the Pokemon world. Smug sparkling fucks, fuck em I keep forgetting about the ride Pokemon but it still feels like the humans are supposed to bow and scrape to earn the gift of basic movement services so I don't think it really counts Gen 8 I don't know as well but it seems to go like this: Doggos are responsible for all good, their trainers or whatever their human companions are might as well not even exist. The postgame story is about those eeeeevil humans thinking they have some relevance to the doggos or something, eeevil I must say, so they have to do something evil to prove that.... um, something. Just some dumb shit that feels like a strawman argument against humans having any place in this world. Grovel to doggos.
Gen 6 was around the point where the weird cynicism started to creep into the franchise, mostly ORAS's weird abandoned ship segment, but it's pretty clear of this... aside from one random ace trainer or something late in XY who asks you, humans benefit from Pokemons, but how Pokemons benefit from huamn??? huh??? You're expecting an answer from him but he's just like, I bet you can't think of anything huh, hmmm??? Grovel, human.
You compare this to gen 5, and I'm not even talking about the Plasma plot (which was clearly bait on Plasma's part to get the public's sympathy anyway), but things like using Excadrill to dig out the mines. The 'drills were getting to do what they loved- dig- and being treated well by the humans in exchange for digging this spot in that way as directed. An equitable relationship that produced resources. This sort of thing existed as a counterpoint to N and Plasma's stated beliefs that humans were nothing but horrible for Pokemon and that they could never live together... Ironically what the later games are leaning towards, except that there is a way, and that's for humans to go fuck themselves. And again, Sinnoh's old myths, as well as any other myths that involve people and Pokemon together going back thousands of years.
I'd really thought the idea of this series was that Pokemon and humans were practically made for each other, that they were together from the very beginning. Raising Pokemon allows them to have a crafted moveset including TM and tutor moves, gain EVs, use held items aside from the few random ones they find in the wild... it's baked into the game itself completely incidentally. But no, I guess it's a Pokeyman's world and humans are just intruding on it somehow. What the fuck. Sigh.
I'm hoping that "Pokemans are so dangerouse man" line is just about the red-eyed frenzied Pokemon and that we aren't going into all Pokemons attacking humans and humans living forever at their mercy and deserving to scrape and grovel just to survive their onslaught.
By the way, my autistic retard fanfiction: First off, when the wall breaks and the doggo statues are found that make everyone realise who the "real" heroes are (something we can THANK Bede for by the way, because if he hadn't destroyed a priceless cultural artifact Eternatus would have gone off unopposed... but no one ever acknowledges this, as Bede is shat on and disowned by Rose for following what Rose taught him and then forced to trune out by trunny granny. figures she's a fairy trainer, I fucking hate fairies)- the idea that the doggos alone are the "real" heroes is actually a misconception brought on by people/society's tendency to elevate Pokemon, similar to why people bought PLasma's bullshit back in Unova. So when Eternatus is starting its nukes, people are just waiting for the doggos to get going and beat it... but when Hop sees the doggo statues, his budding professor brain immediately sees the truth- both the doggos and their human trainers are needed to unlock the true power of the sword and shield items. This even makes some sense with the game mechanics, as Pokemon typically can't use items more complicated than a berry... so with Leon and co busy fighting the dynamax mons and knowing no one would listen to him, Hop turns to the only person he can ask- you, who saw the doggos in the foggos at the beginning with him, to go retrieve the items so the doggos can actually do their thing. Also, Rose was radicalised and groomed by some crazy apocalypse cult, an ironic inversion of his supposed grooming of Bede (here he actually has a heartwarming father-son relationship of sorts with him). They pushed him to push the darkest day plan up like he did, convincing him there's a desperate energy situation but secretly just wanting the maximum apocalypse-ness out of a single action (while possibly believing themselves that there's an energy crisis but that the real solution is to destroy shit so less people and things use energy). So there's that. In the end he's taken to jail, but it's not some absurdly mundane ending where he just gets arrested for apocalypse crimes, rather he's being questioned for what he can tell them about the cult, on understanding that he was coerced into this, and that he can pay for his crimes by giving information on the cult itself. Bede relates this to you with some concern for his sort-of dad. The Swordward and Shieldbert plot (I forget if that's their actual names but whatever) has the two bros asking you to aid in investigating the apoc cult while preparing to accept their destiny as the doggos' masters. You see, they've been raised for this, learning all about Pokemon companionship but having no actual close contact with Pokemon at all (to prevent any Pokemon from forming a bond with them closer than what they'd have with the doggo- your first Pokemon is special, after all). Book smart but street dumb, in other words. You know, as opposed to some inexplicable dumb shit because Mother 3 ruined an entire generation of game writers. They call on the doggos to battle the baddies and are disappointed they go to you and Hop instead of them, but ultimately accept it. Afterwards, Hop contacts Sonia with a request... soon he has the two brothers over to choose their very first Pokemon. Swordbro was going on about Swordog's nobility and Shieldbro about wanting to touch Shieldog's fluffy mane, so Hop has out a Yamper and a Wooloo, presented as a choice, but he knows exactly which one they'll each choose. This is another manifestation of his potential as a professor- not only doing the professor thing of handing out first Pokemon, but considering what Pokemon they'd work well with. Isn't that nice? Also there's something in there about Bede's long lost identical twin who's also being used as a pawn by the apoco-cult but I'll explain that later
My idea for the origin of the Pokemon world as we know it- Arceus didn't create Pokemon, or the world itself, but it is responsible for the way the world is now. Once upon a time, when humans and Pokemon were one kind of being, there was too much strife and disagreement among the groups and nobody was learning their lesson, so Arceus got fed up and split the world into two types of beings that would have to get along in order to thrive. It instated the "rules" of Pokemon battles, that attacks have set damage ranges and types have well-defined interactions, that attacks in battles only deplete some abstract hit points level instead of causing the damage they "should" for what they are (this doesn't apply to wild-on-wild predation necessarily, so it's a privilege enjoyed by Pokemon being aided or advised by a human). Outsider beings- aliens, maybe ultra beasts, etc- are "converted" into Pokemon when they enter "Earth"'s airspace, which is why even beings from the furthest depths of space follow the rules and biology of earthbound species. These "rules" require Arceus' powers but don't rely on its constant action, so it can be captured and hang out with a trainer for a while, play by its own rules to see how things are going, without disrupting the system. I'd never expected anything even vaguely like this to turn canon of course, because it's so specific and particular to the sort of ideas I tend to have, but... not like this man
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iscariotsdeputy · 4 years
Text
Staci Pratt’s Lines From The FC5 Script
THE SCRIPT IS FOUND HERE ON THIS POST GIVE THAT POST THE ATTENTION IT DESERVES
now to our regular scheduled staci content under the read more!
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[Surprise reactions, yes I’m naming these]
Good Lord! 
What the- 
Jesus! 
God almighty! 
Christ almighty! 
Whoa!
What was that? 
I heard something. 
You hear that? 
What? 
What's that?
[FUN BATTLE CRIES]
Enough! 
No more! 
I'm done with this!
Goin' in! 
Cover me! 
You're dead! 
You're mine! 
Kill them! Let them die for the Father!   (ZOINKS)
Kill them all! They don't deserve to live! 
The weak must be culled! 
We've got this! 
Mercy is for the weak! 
Show them no weakness! 
Cull the herd! 
You don't deserve to live! 
You'll pay! You're all gonna pay! 
You're all gonna die! 
You don't deserve to live!
Is that it? 
You started it! 
I didn't want this! 
We don't forgive unbelievers! 
This didn't have to happen! 
[That feel when the grenades hit]
Move, move, move! 
Move, go! 
Grenade! 
Grenade, move! 
[This boy is on fire!]
Oh God, the fire's gettin' bigger! 
Fire's growing! 
The fire! It's out of control!  
Good Lord that fire's getting big! 
The fire's spreading!
[Lad on the run]
Moving, cover me! 
Runnin' for it! 
Hey, cover me! 
Movin' positions! 
Gonna try to get higher up. 
Gonna climb higher. 
Cover me, I'm heading down. 
Moving down, cover me! 
For sure! 
Better go fast! 
Got it! 
Okay! 
Got ya!
[When he wants to run but he’s like me trying not to infodump: suppressed]
I can't move! 
They've got me pinned! 
I'm pinned down! 
I'm taking fire over here! 
They've got me pinned down! 
[Staci hearing threats]
Jesus! Where was that?! Damn!
Lord! Jesus, what was that? What the hell! 
[Staci underfire]
Damn! 
Dammit, dammit! 
Lord Jesus Christ! 
This is bad!
God, no!
Ah shit! 
[Staci when he sees them enemies]
Look, over there! 
Over there! 
There they are! 
There! I see them! 
Gonna do some Cullin'...      (staci excuse me?)
Don't move! 
Dammit, watch out! 
Hey, watch out! 
[Wounded Staci]
Ah. 
Ow. 
Ah! 
God! 
Jesus! 
I'm hit! 
They shot me! 
They got me!
[HE’S RELOADIN’]
Reloading! 
I'm reloading! 
Reloading! Cover me! 
Gotta reload!
[SALUTATIONS FELLOW NORMAL NOT BRAINWASHED PEOPLE]
Hey. 
Hi there.
What's up. 
Hey, man. 
Hey sister. 
Hey there.
Hey!
Hey Brother.
Brother, how are you?
Miss. Nice to see you. 
Hey there Miss. 
[Sights on Staci, a sniper with the same values as me]
Sniper! 
Sniper's got me in his sights! 
Got a sniper on me! 
[Funky Fresh Idle Filler]
Gotta look after your gear, keep it clean. Out here your weapon is your life. 
The Father keeps all the best stuff for his Chosen. Leaves us the scraps. 
No one is going to take anything from me again. Ever.
The night hides many sins. 
It gets cold at night. 
Even in the dark, they can see ya. 
[Sneeze] [Clear Throat] [Sigh]
[Happy sigh. Like the Blue Jays won another world series recently.] (I shit you not this is how it’s in the script)
I'm not weak. I'm not weak. 
They're gonna pay. 
No mercy. Show no mercy. 
Some say the sun is life. In the cages it brings only death. 
I wasn't sure I'd ever see the sun again. 
[Deep breath] Just smell that fresh air. 
Jacob took me on one of his hunts, only we weren't huntin' any animals. A couple of prisoners had escaped... they didn't get far. I had to help round up the wolves.. you know... to be made into Judges. They were so scared... so scared. I had a dream once that Jacob took me on a hunt. We shot some deer and he asked me to skin them. As I was cutting them open they changed... it wasn't deer. I... I don't think it was a dream.
Good idea to be ready for anythin'. From what I saw Eden's Gate isn't foolin' around.
I was locked down in Jacob's Gate for days. I can't imagine living down there for years. 
Jacob had one thing right. Things are only goin' to get worse and you gotta be ready for it.
[Friendly Fire]
Watch it!
We're on the same side! 
Watch where you point that! 
Do you mind? 
Don't test me!
You trying to kill me?! 
You tryin' to make me angry? 
I wouldn't do that, if I were you.
You doing that on purpose? 
Trying to get me killed?! 
Watch it! 
Be more careful! 
Careful! 
Hey! Watch it!
[DON’T LET HIM USE THE MOUNTED GUN]
Goin' for the machine gun! 
Gonna take the machine gun! 
Cover me I'm going for the machine gun! 
I'm taking the machine gun, cover me! 
Leave the machine gun to me!
[If a friend is down I think, or maybe you, who knows?]
Good lord! 
Jesus! 
God, no! 
Father save us! 
[SO IF STACI KILLS YOU???]
Now who's weak? 
I'm sorry. I really am. 
[Staci death pleas]
Father! Forgive me! 
Oh God oh God! 
[Filler after Staci kills someone AKA post-combat]
Culling the herd. It's just culling the herd. 
Did you see that Jacob? Who's weak now? 
For sure. 
You okay over there? 
You can't let it get to you. 
It.. It'll be okay.  (i love him,,,,,,,,,,)
[Battle Filler!]
They deserve what they get! 
Show no weakness! 
Kill them all! 
Death is too good for them! 
[Reviving]
Going to help! I got 'em! I'll get 'em! I got this! 
Hold on, I got you! Be right there! Don't die on me! 
[You Revive Him! Gold Star!]
It just wasn't my time. Thanks, friend. 
You are a God-send. Thank you. 
You're like my guardian angel. 
[Battle Taunts]
Whatta you gonna do? What, having trouble standing? What's wrong? How do you like it? 
[Staci asking for help]
Oh God! Save me, please!
Oh god, it hurts! Make it stop!
Please, Father. No more!
[If you aim your gun at Stace oh n o]
You don't want to test me.
That's enough.
You wanna see what happens? 
You're not gonna like what comes next... 
You think that scares me after what I've been through? 
Don't be testin' me, Brother. 
Don't push me. Not now. 
I'm warning you. 
I'm not goin' to put up with this, Miss. 
[Staci and Boomer]
You got that dog under control, right? 
Yeah, I'm not sure I'm good with dogs. 
Dogs remind me too much of those damned Judge wolves. 
I don't like the way that dog is looking at me. 
Just keep that dog away from me. 
[Staci and Cheeseburger]
I don't trust bears. 
Keep that thing away from me. 
Bears are dangerous. 
Bears should be in the wild. 
Bears are killers.
[Staci and Peaches]
Now that's a cat.
Big cat.
Big claws on that sucker. 
Nice kitty. 
Beauty coat on that cougar. 
[More Filler, But Longer And Contextual!]
Sometimes it's all just too much...then I remember my purpose. Our purpose. 
Jacob, he's knows everything that I'm thinking. He's got the key to my mind and he twists... and twists... and twists. 
Jacob... he's in control. He controls everything. 
I don't know how much more of this I can take. 
I would've rotted in Jacob's Gate if it wasn't for you. 
Good to see things gettin' back to normal. 
Jacob has got eyes everywhere. He knows your thoughts, before you think 'em. He's inside your head right now. 
Jacob's plan worked. I tried to warn them. I told them not to go back. 
I don't know how much more I can take of this. 
If Jacob gets his way, we're all dead. 
I... I don't know what to think anymore. It's.. it's so hard to keep it straight. 
That goddamn cage, it's like my wires are crossed. 
I can't believe he's really dead. 
No more sacrifices. No more. 
No one can take Jacob on. It's just not possible. 
Jacob's going to win. He always wins. 
Whitetails are honest, decent people. They're fightin' the good fight, and they deserve any success that comes their way. No place is safe, but the Wolf's Den gives you a good chance at livin'. 
Empires fall. The weak.. the world is full of them. They're going to to cull the weak.
I... maybe we shouldn't waste time talking right now.
There's no time. No time!
Jacob... his experiments... he takes us... owns us, speaks to us. He hears us.
They'll find us. They always find people. We gotta leave... before they find us! Before they punish us!
No... keep goin! We move or we die!
Jacob knows. He knows!
You're strong. You're not weak. That's good... good.
I'm alive but I'm weak.. weak. Need to be strong. We are meat. We are all meat.
We could have died. And maybe... maybe I deserved... no, stop, stop! The weak... must be culled!
I... I don't know what we're supposed to do now. Protect and serve? Out here? There's no law anymore, Rook. Look around. Someone should have been here by now. Nobody gives a shit about what's happening here. We're on our own. Survival of the fittest. The weak and strong...
Maybe we didn't survive that crash. Maybe all this is purgatory. We have to atone for all the shit we've done before we can leave this place... we have to suffer before God will grant us salvation.
The whole time I was locked in that room I just kept thinking about how I got here. You know why I became a cop? To get laid. That was it. It was a whim. And then... after awhile, I tried to convince myself that I did it for the greater good. To help people. But I can't. I know that now. Jacob taught me that... I don't know what I'm supposed to do anymore... I don't even know who I am.
[STACI DIALOGUE WITH PHIL, THE PEGGIE, IDK]
Stace: I.. I was told to feed the Judges but I didn't know where their food was.
Phil: Jesus, Pratt. Does nothing stick in that brain of yours? Over there, where it's always kept.
Stace: Right! Th..thanks Phil! It won't happen again!
Phil: It better not.
[Also there’s no confirmation this is Staci, but it was right under the above dialogue]
Stace: Hey... I need to get in.
Peggie: Seriously? Didn't I just let you out?
Stace: There's a new prisoner. I got to go get him. For Jacob.
Peggie: Fine. Get goin'. Just leave me the fuck alone.
68 notes · View notes
liberolove · 4 years
Text
Testing the Waters (pt. 2)
Summary: youve finally graduated high school and now youre moving on to college. youve decided to go to sendai university. its summer and youve become curious about checking out the dating pool in miyagi, so you download a dating app. you figure you might as well have fun before delving too deep into your studies
Part: [part two] out of ???
Pairings: nishinoya x reader / kuroo x reader / oikawa x reader / kiyoko x reader
A/N: theres tons of ships here, just me living out my hoe phase lmao please dont judge me. let me know what yall think
Genre: fluff, smut, crack
Warnings: flirting, college shinanigans
It’s been three days since the last time you saw Yuu. Gosh, even saying his name to yourself gave you goosebumps. You two have been texting non stop and honestly, it felt so refreshing. You were a pretty bad texter but he knew how to keep the conversation going. 
One of his favorite things to do was play 21 questions with you. He wasn’t like those fuckboys who would use this opportunity to ask you if you were a virgin or what your favorite position was. Yuu was different. He came up with the craziest scenarios and judged you on the way you answered. One time he asked you how you would escape a 300 lb lion that just broke out of the zoo you were visiting. You honestly had no idea how to respond but eventually you replied, 
“I’d make sure to run with a crowd and ‘accidentally’ trip a slow runner so that the lion could get distracted and probably (most likely) attack them. This would buy me some time to get the hell out there.”
This response caught Noya off guard but he loved the way you thought. You continued to come up with barbaric schemes to survive all the scenarios he would throw at you. He kept you guessing and that was what you liked so much about him. He was wild and so were you.
You were getting a little impatient over your next date so you took a deep breath and eventually asked him.
Y/N: Heeey, Yuu. I was wondering when you’d like to go out again. I’d really like to go out with you again.
Nishinoya Yuu: hey cutie! I’ve been wanting to see you again but I haven’t had any days off from work lately.. (; ・`д・´) IM DYING!! I just wanna see yoouuuuu
Y: Aw man.. :( That sucks. When do you think you’ll get your next day off?
N: idk tbh but hopefully it’s soon!!
Y: no worries, just let me know.
N: will do!!
Well, that was that. Now you wondered what you should do to pass the time. You were bored again and needed something to do. “Oh wait. I should check the app. I haven’t checked since I messaged Yuu on there. Maybe I have more matches.”
You opened up the app and you had 10 notifications. You had gotten some likes on the selfie you posted and several people viewed your profile. You checked who looked at your profile, and it was mostly ugly, older, men. “Gross,” you thought to yourself. Besides this, you noticed some new messages. 
You opened up the first message. 
“Hey sexy! Wanna come see me play? Click my link https://…..”
“Damn bots. So annoying.” You deleted the message. Next message:
“DTF?”
“I mean like yeah, but you could’ve been less forward in your message. What a turn off..” You had one last notification left. Maybe it wouldn’t be a let down.
“Are you made of Fluorine, Iodine, and Neon? 'Cause you are F-I-Ne.”
To be honest, this pick up line did make you giggle a little. You checked out the profile of the mysterious stranger who sent it and you were surprised that it was a bulked up biker. And damn, was he hot as hell. 
Tumblr media
His hair stood up in an organized, weird bed head kind of way. It made him look like a rooster. Rather than smile in his photos, he smirked. And his eyes looked like he could undress you solely with his gaze. He looked like your typical bad boy, but that didn’t make sense. Why would he use a chemistry pick up line?
This made you become even more interested, so you replied back with another cheesy pick up line.
Y/N: I wish I were adenine because then I could get paired with U.
Kuroo Tetsuro: Hey, kitten. I thought you’d never reply. You had me waiting.
Y: umm??? calling me kitten already?
K: What’s wrong? Are you flustered already? We haven’t even met up yet.
Y: woah there cowboy! hold your horses
K: I’m not a cowboy, but I’ll gladly have you ride me instead.
Y: skskskks i cant even-
K: Sorry. Too much?
Y: YES TOO MUCH
K: Alright. Let me start over. Ahh, a fellow chemist, I presume?
Y: yeaaah, kind of. I have a love/hate relationship with chemistry.
K: Is that so? Maybe I can help with that.
Y: oh really? how so?
K: I am a chemistry major after all. I go to Sendai. Do you go to school?
Y: uhhh i’m going to start there in the fall. I still haven’t decided what to major in, just yet.
K: Maybe you’ll end up being a chemistry major like me and I can give you private one on one lessons? 
Y: I highly doubt that, but nice try. 
K: Have you gotten a tour of the campus yet? Or are you waiting for freshman orientation?
Y: nah, I haven’t seen all of it yet. 
K: Would you like to?
Y: um sure! When are you free for my private tour? (:
K: How about tomorrow in the morning? Maybe around 9am? I can pick you up too if you’d like.
Y: Sounds good and no thanks. I’m not riding on that motorcycle! Looks scary :(
K: Don’t worry, kitten. I’ll drive safely and make sure nothing happens to you.
Y: there you go again.
K: Sorry, I couldn’t help myself. No, but really. I don’t mind picking you up. Have you ever been on a motorcycle before?
Y: nope
K: Then, let’s change that. Send me your address tomorrow morning. And get some rest.
Y: alrighty it’s a plan then!
K: No. It’s a date.
Y: sksksk omg
After that conversation, all you could think about was how the hell did you get into this mess? Motorcycles are dangerous, yet this rooster convinced you so easily to take a ride with him.. 
It was an understatement to say that you were nervous for tomorrow.
You set an alarm for 7 am the next day and went to bed.
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Your alarm woke you up and you immediately remembered why you were awake so early. You rushed into the shower and once you were out, you spent 30 minutes deciding on what to wear. You opted for some black, ripped skinny jeans and a white v-neck t-shirt. 
At 8am on the dot, your phone’s notification bell went off. It was Kuroo.
“What’s your address, baby?”
You sent him the details and continued getting ready. You put on some light makeup and brushed your hair. You checked the time, and it was already 8:55 am. Then, your phone went off again.
“I’m outside.”
Your heart almost beat out of your chest. You grabbed your purse and put on some chapstick. You know, just in case..
You locked up your apartment and walked down the stairs. You were greeted by the biggest shit eating grin on the sexiest man you’d ever seen. You never went for the bad boys but college is a time for experimenting. 
“Hey, Y/N. You ready to ride? I brought an extra helmet for you.”
“Hi, Kuroo. And yeah, I guess,” your voice shook as you replied. You were really nervous but you tried to hide it.
“Don’t worry, baby. There’s nothing to be afraid of. I’ll keep you safe.”
His words made you melt and you had just met him. The way he cooed at you and looked your way made you blush. You felt your cheeks get hotter by the second.
“Alright. Hop on and hold on to my waist. Hold on tight or else you’re gonna fly away when I take off. Okay?”
“..okay..” you managed to mutter. You were shaking but you put on the helmet he gave you and lifted up your leg to sit on the metal machine. You slowly hugged Kuroo from behind and held on as tight as you could. Your head was smashed right up against his large, broad back.
“Ready?” he asked.
“..yeah,” you squeaked.
Before you finished saying this, he had taken off like the devil was chasing him. If this was his meaning of safe driving, you didn’t want to find out his meaning of reckless driving.
The ride to Sendai University only took about 5 minutes, when realistically it would take 20 minutes by bus. You arrived and Kuroo teased, “are you going to let go, kitty?”
You hadn’t realized you were still gripping onto him for dear life. You released him from your hold and your hands still tingled from the amount of force you applied to his shirt. “Sorry!”
“No worries. Hey, look! I brought you here alive. Aren’t you glad?” he cackled. 
His laugh sounded like a dying hyena but it did sound a little cute at the same time. “Yeah. Thank goodness. Your driving is insane, dude.”
He showed you all over campus, from the administrative buildings to the gymnasium, to the fields. Sendai was a pretty big campus, and it made you glad that you had a personal guide to show you all the different buildings. 
After your little tour was over, he asked, “wanna grab a bite to eat? I’ll be a gentleman and pay for you too.”
Of course, you couldn’t say no to food. Much less, FREE FOOD! You nodded and got ready to ride the devil’s machinery again.
He took you to a nearby sushi bar. “Order whatever you’d like, princess. Today, I want to spoil you rotten.”
You melted at his words and also at the variety of rolls on the menu. You didn’t ask him if he really meant that you could order anything. You just kind of went for it. You ordered everything from shrimp tempura, to octopus, to eel. Sushi was your favorite and being told that you could order everything was a dream come true.
“Damn, girl! I had no idea you had such a huge appetite!  I didn’t know you’d take me seriously on my offer. You’re gonna run my pockets dry.”
You blushed and looked away. “Sorry, Kuroo. I really couldn’t help myself. I love sushi so much.”
“I’m just teasing you, baby. You deserve to be treated like this everyday.”
You had no idea how to respond so you just kept stuffing your face with sushi.
After you finally had your fill, it was time to go home. It was getting late. Kuroo took you home and you were definitely more relaxed this time on the bike. 
“I hope you had a great time today, kitty. And I hope I met your standards.”
“Yes, I did! Thank you so much, Kuroo! This was honestly so much fun. Thanks for everything.”
“Of course. Nothing but the best for you. I just need one little favor from you, baby.”
“Oh? What is it?”
“Can I get a kiss from your soft lips? I know you want to. I saw the way you kept staring at me, today.”
“Oh.. uhh.. Y-yea-yeah. Sure, of course.. Yeah,” you stammered. 
You looked at him with soft, shy eyes and before you knew it, he leaned in quickly and kissed you on the lips. Your eyes were wide open in surprise but as he deepened the kiss, your eyes slowly shut.
The kiss felt like electricity coursing through your body. You didn’t know what it was, but this man definitely already had you wrapped around his long, slender finger. 
As soon as you realized his hold on you, he backed off, and left you wanting more. He was such a tease.
“I can’t just let you have everything today, kitten. I need you wanting more.”
You didn’t know what to respond so you looked down at the ground shyly. 
“I’ll message you later, y/n. Don’t make me wait too long, again.”
You waved and muttered, “Thank you, Kuroo.”
He revved up his bike and was gone in seconds.
You remained in a daze as you walked back up to your apartment. Once you got inside, you plopped down on your couch and released a long sigh. “Who knew that college was going to be so exciting..”
[link to kuroo pic i found]
49 notes · View notes
give-seconds · 3 years
Text
Survival of the Fittest
Summary: Welcome to the Badlands of Montana! This will be the setting of our game. What’s the name of the game? Simple, make it out alive. In which you and Jaemin are kidnapped and forced to try and find your way out of the Badlands.
Masterlist | Main Masterlist  
--Part 2
“It’s 9:01, can we eat now?”
Groaning, you throw your head back dramatically. “Yes Jaemin, we can eat now.”
“Awesome!” He cheers, before sticking one hand behind his back and the other held out across his stomach. “May I take your coat madam?” He asks in his best French accent.
Making a point to straighten your back, you untie your hoodie from around your waist. “Why thank you, kind sir.”
“Wait right here while I go set your table.” He walks a few steps away, turns his back to you, and drops your hoodie onto the ground.
“Jaemin,” you whine, looking sadly at your sweater that is now laying on the dirty earth. “Now it’s all dirty. You know I have to wear that later right?”
Ignoring you, he unties his own hoodie and places it on the ground across from yours before placing the backpack between them.
He turns around, a wide smile spread across his face and arms placed back into position, and walks back over to you. “Right this way to your table ma’am.”
“I see we’ve abandoned the French accent.”
“Oui oui.”
You follow him back to the jackets, sitting once he gestures to your jacket. “Today, we have the delicious menu of a protein bar or an orange. What tickles your fancy?”
You scrunch your face. “First, don’t ever say that again, that was disgusting. Second, my friend and I will have half a protein bar each.”
He sighs sadly, sitting across from you, and mutters an even sadder “Oui.”
“I know, but we don’t know how far the next backpack is. I think it’s better if we just keep splitting things until we know what’s in the next bag. Once we know that, we can plan accordingly.”
He nods his head, unzipping the bag and pulling out one of the bars. “Can I use my hands to break it?”
“Of course silly, they’re just as clean as mine.”
He tears open the package, carefully pulls out the bar, and breaks it in half. He sighs, having broken the bar into two uneven halves. However, without a second thought he hands you the slightly bigger piece, offering a small smile.
“I hope you don’t think I’m being too bossy.” You break a piece off the bar, looking at it before putting it in your mouth. “I just don’t know what else to do.”
“Don’t worry, I don’t. You’re just saying what everyone is thinking, everyone being me.”
You smile softly at your protein bar, breaking another piece off. “You know, you’re really pleasant to be around.”
“Pretty and pleasant, maybe you should just call me P Man.”
You look up at him just in time to catch the look of regret on his face.
“Actually no, don’t do that.”
“Didn’t think that one through, did you?”
He shakes his head.
“Maybe I could just call you Big P?”
“Shut up.”
~~
“I don’t know if I can do this.”
You and Jaemin had been walking in complete darkness for about ten minutes. You’ve never been afraid of the dark before, but it is starting to freak you out. You know you’re all alone out here - that’s painfully obvious, but you can’t help but to look over your shoulder every minute or so to make sure there’s no one behind you.
“What do you mean?” He asks, turning his head to look at where you were walking beside him before. Once he sees you’re not next to him anymore, he stops and turns to face you. “What’s wrong?”
“I just,” you pause, trying to stop yourself from crying. You’ve never felt comfortable crying in front of people, and you definitely aren’t going to cry in front of the only other person you have.
“I just don’t know if I’m strong enough to do this.” You say slowly. “I know I have to, and I don’t plan to just lay here and die. I just don’t know if I’m strong enough to continue pretending that this isn’t horrifying. And I wouldn’t normally tell you - or anyone for that matter - any of this, but I don’t have any alone time to cry it out.”
Your eyes burn from unfallen tears. Closing your eyes, you take in a deep breath releasing it in a humorless laugh. I sound so pathetic, I can only imagine what he must think of me.
“Would it help if I told you that I’m also scared out of my mind?”
You open your eyes, expecting to see him mocking you with his eyes. But his eyes, like his voice, are sincere.
“This is an absolute nightmare, and I’d be lying if I said I wouldn’t trade places with someone on the outside if it meant that I could go free. But I know that that isn’t an option, so I’m using everything in me to just keep going. So between you and me, we don’t have to pretend that this is a friendly hike we decided to take. I’m sorry if I made you uncomfortable with my jokes, it’s just a way to distract myself from the fact that I have no control here.”
“No no, your jokes are fine. They’re not what I meant when I said I was sick of pretending. I just meant I can’t handle you thinking that I could be okay in this situation. Which sounds stupid, I know, but something about it -” you shake your head, struggling to come up with the right words.
“Why does my opinion matter?” He shakes his head, smiling softly. “You shouldn’t worry about what I think of you, y/n, that’s not what’s important here. Just for the record, I will not judge you for anything you do here. You’re surviving the best way you know how.”
You just stare at him, letting a tear fall.
He tilts his head, a wide smile taking place of the small one. “What? I’m only telling you the truth. It’s not like I’m making a groundbreaking discovery, I’m just reciting what everyone should be told.”
When you still don’t say anything, he puts his hands on his hip. “What am I going to do with you? Come on.”
He reaches forward to grab one of your wrists, pulling you back into a walking pace. “But really, if you ever just need to cry again feel free to do so.”  He pats your arm once before letting it go. “I’m not going to judge you for anything you do here, you’re doing what you need to live. How could I judge that?”
“Thank you, Jaemin.”
He chuckles “I already told you, I’m just telling you what everyone deserves to be told.”
“Then thank you, Jaemin, for being the person to tell me that.”
“You’re very welcome, my dear y/n.”
~~
“What the hell was that? I thought snakes hated the cold,” you whisper, frozen in place.
“It must not be cold enough for him away,” Jaemin whispers back, frozen next to you with the flashlight trained where you saw the tail end of a snake disappear into the grass.
“If we move, will it bite us?”
“I don’t know. It has to know we’re too big to eat, right? It wouldn’t try and bite us, right?”
“If it uses its venom we’re not too big for it.” You run your fingers through your hair, sighing. Why is it that all day we don’t see a single one of these suckers, and an hour after sunset we finally see one?
“What do you mean ‘if’?”
“Sam was obsessed with snakes, and one thing I actually remember is that snakes don’t always use their venom when they bite. So as long as we don’t hurt the snake, I don’t think it’ll hurt us.”
“You’re sure of that?”
You nod your head. The information was burned into your brain when your ex tried to convince you that your “honeymoon” should be spent at some reptile house with live snakes.
“Then you wouldn’t mind going first.”
“Nice, Jaemin. Real classy.”
“What? I’m afraid and you seem slightly less afraid. Armed with your snake knowledge you should be invincible!”
“Give me the flashlight.”
“No.” He holds the light close to his chest, sending the beam up to his left. “I’ll shine it on the path and you just walk ahead. Go as far as you can so you’re sure you’re far away from it.”
“I have to make sure I don’t step on it. If I step on it, then it’ll definitely bite me.”
“That’s why I’m shining it on the ground as you walk,” he answers, moving the light to flash it up and down on the path. “Time for your fashion show, you’ve got the spotlight all to yourself. Strut your stuff. You go, girl. Yes, queen. I’m running out of motivational phrases, please hurry. Tear it up -”
“Oh my God shut up,” you laugh, taking a step forward. “I’ll go if you stop.”
“Done and done.”
Taking a deep breath you walk down the path, stopping where you last saw the snake.
“Are you brave enough to come this close? I’m blocking the light and all I can see is my shadow.”
He shifts uncomfortably “I don’t know, y/n, I’m not scared of many things, but snakes are definitely at the top of that list.”
You turn around to face him, ignoring the feeling that you’re turning your back on an unknown danger. “I get it Jaemin, I really do. But wouldn’t it be better to see the enemy before it sees you? Plus, you’ll have to come down this way anyways, wouldn’t you want to do it with someone else?”
He hesitantly nods his head. “And if the snake is still there and we shine a flashlight in his eyes he won’t be too mad right?”
“That I don’t know, but I doubt its head would just be there. I mean we didn’t see any of it when we shined the flashlight before. I just want to make sure, you know?”
He hesitantly nods his head again, scanning the area with the flashlight. When he makes it next to you, he blows out a shaky breath.
Smiling at him, you hook your arm through his. “Hey, it’s okay. Now that we’re here, let’s see if he’s still there, yeah?”
Stepping to the side, the light illuminates the path in front of you. “See.” You turn your head to smile at him before gesturing to the path in front of you. “It’s not here.”
Pulling his arm, you lightly tug him into a walking pace again. He pulls his arm into his side, effectively dragging you closer. You both look to the right where the snake had slithered away, listening for any sound that could resemble a rattle.
You smile softly, bringing your free hand to pat his arm. “We got this Jae, nothing can stop us now.”
He nods his head slowly. “I’m sorry y/n, I don’t know why I’m so scared of those things.”
“You don’t need to apologize, silly. We all have that one animal that we’re scared of. For me, it’s mice. I can’t stand those things.” you shake your head as the memory of finding a mouse in your garage pops into your head.
“I’m still sorry you have to baby me like this, I should be able to take care of myself.”
You hum, nodding your head. “How about this, if we find a mouse you give me a piggyback ride until we’re a safe distance away? That way we’re even.”
“What?” You smile, feeling his head turn to look at you, a playful look of betrayal undoubtedly taking over his face. “If that’s the case, why aren’t you carrying me?”
“Simple my dear Jaemin, whoever suggests the idea gets benefits. And my benefit just so happens to be getting a piggyback ride.”
He scoffs. “I have never heard such a thing in my life.”
“Get a better life then.”
“Will do, captain.” he says, bringing his free hand up to salute.
You shake your head, smile never leaving your face. Maybe this will all be okay after all.
---
Thank you to @mozartwasajungkookstan for proof reading and @vitamarkie for proof reading, leaving me such wonderful comments, and for helping me with a sentence. I appreciate you both so much. Thank you to anyone reading, have a wonderful day/night!
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The Season 1 Villain: Mr. Blackwood
Summary [ A time travelling Martin Blackwood accidentally bullies his past counterpart and a young Jonathan Sims into getting together in order to gang-up on him]
 Yesterday Is Here is a time-travel fix-it fic of the Magnus Archives by CirrusGrey found on AO3 that I highly recommend. It helps emotionally cope with the tragedy of the actual series and it’s very well written.
I have my own ideas on what would happen in the fic if the time travel went slightly different and Martin showed up first, which now lives rent-free in my head as an AU to an AU. I’m hoping by writing it down I can free myself of it’s grip over me. If you don’t want spoilers for the fic, or seasons 1-4 of the Magnus Archives, stop here.
 In the fic Jon and Martin from the Archives have been married and survived the apocalypse together. Both use the Helen’s doors to travel back in time to season 1 of the Magnus Archives and prevent most of the tragedies from happening. Jon uses his spooky Archivist Powers to threaten Elias, extorting him for money and preventing the appocolypse. And both Martin and Jon dispose of the main villains of season 1 and 2.
But some shenanigans happened in Helen’s doors that make it so Jon shows up first and Martin doesn’t show up until two months later. Here’s my idea of what would happen if those positons got reversed.
-The Archival Staff call Future Martin Mr. Blackwood to differentiate him from their present-day Martin. I will also be doing so, from here on out.
-Jon is, of course, skeptical, and keeps insisting that this must be some long lost brother of Martin’s who is trying to scam them (Or even his father, despite Mr. Blackwood not looking much older than Martin). Mr. Blackwood proceeds to list small intimate details about each of them (how they take their tea, things that happened their last birthday. Stuff that would be very essentially Martin to know) but also sounds very impatient the entire time. He does not have time for Jon’s feigned skepticism and denial and does not hide it.
-It becomes clear very quickly to the Archival staff that Mr. Blackwood is a lot meaner than Martin. He doesn’t make tea for people unless he’s trying to corner them to talk to them, He’s willing to kill spiders rather than release them. Murder doesn’t seem that out of the question for him. And while both Martin and Blackwood are big people, Matrin Hunches and keeps his voice soft and tries to seem smaller. Blackwood does none of that and will push his way through people and/or loom sometimes.
-As a result Tim starts jokingly referring to him as the Anti-Martin. When Mr. Blackwood starts mentioning that there should be a Mr. Sims showing up, Tim insists on making a list of traits that he bets  Mr. Sims will have based on him being an “Anti-Jon”. The traits include: Wearing only bright colors, not-giving a fig about archive policy, believing all the statements (even the dumb ones), smiling, being nice to Martin, being social and (on a day where Jon was being particularly annoying) being cool.
-A few of them are totally off the mark, but many of them are actually frighteningly close to the truth.
-He ropes Sasha into it too. They decide together that Sims and Blackwood have a one-sided relationship where Sims is absolutely besotted and Blackwood either barely tollerates him or is seducing him for his Head Archivist pay.
(It’s funny because Jon isn’t making much more than any of the Archival Staff)
-Blackwood is fairly nice to Sasha who is reasonable and listens to relevant threats. Tim appreciates him for confirming and advancing the research he’s done on Robert Smirke and the Circus. But Martin and Jon hate him. He bullies them both in different ways.
-Blackwood keeps trying to convince his younger self to grow a spine, make some boundaries. He keeps trying to tell him that he can’t fix things by being nice to everyone. Martin does not appreciate it.
-Mr. Blackwood will occasionally talk like Martin’s Mum and it makes it hurt more. Not exact sentiments or sentiments but familiar phrasing and tones. Blackwood doesn’t know he’s doing it.
-Meanwhile Blackwood takes away all the “real” statements from Jon (the ones that won’t record on the computer) and spreading them out amongst the archive staff. He insists that reading them will turn Jon into an eldritch creature that feeds on human trauma and gives people nightmares. Jon thinks this is a load of absolute bull. (If you must read them, Jon, at least don’t read them outloud. Type them up or something. Don’t be stupid.)
-Jon’s the type of person who needs to know and asks all the uncomfortable questions, so having someone take away the only real information bothers him. Even if Tim, Sasha and Martin have the information it still bothers him to not know.
-Jon is also really insecure about deserving his job, and desperately trying to prove himself. So having a man burst in and tell him how to do his job stings.
-Mr. Blackwood also isn’t delicate when pointing out Jon’s skepticism is dumb. He says all the things Martin thinks but is too polite to say.
(”I’m sure there’s a very natural reason for Carlos Vittery to be wrapped up in spider webs upon his death”
“Are you serious? Jon, if you keep up this ridiculous denial you’re going to walk yourself right into something’s mouth just to prove a point. Or worse, send someone else into it. And you of all people should know supernatural spiders are dangerous.
“What do you mean, I of all people?”
“I think you know what I mean, Jon.”)
-Jon and Martin actually end up hanging out because they bond over their mutual dislike of Mr. Blackwood.
-Jon defends Martin agains Mr. Blackwood and vice-versa.
-The first time it happens, it’s Jon defending Martin and Mr. Blackwood acts surprised.
-(I don’t know why we should trust you. Even if all this supernatural nonsense is true there’s no reason we should take you’re word on how it works! You barge into the archives telling everyone what to do, fear mongering with tales of secret societies trying to cause the apocalypse, you upset Martin all the time “for his own good, you-”
“-wait, wait wait- Martin?” “When did you start caring about Martin?”
“What do you mean? He’s one of my archival assistants, of course I care about him.”
“Jon, you bully him more often than I do.”
“I-No I don’t.”
“You make it very clear what you think of his work and competence, Jon. And you send him to all the worst assignments. He let’s it happen because he knows he’s not the best at research, and he knows you’re under pressure from Elias, and he really tries not to take it personally, but it hurts him Jon. It builds up and it hurts him, even if he never says it does. So yes, forgive me if I think you’re being a bit hypocritical.”)
-Jon apologizes to Martin after that and really tries to be nicer because he does not like the idea that he’s as bad as Mr. Blackwood. He watches what he says around Martin a lot more closely after that, and keeps an eye on Martin’s reactions.
-Jon will tell Martin that he thinks he’s nothing he’s like Mr. Blackwood. He doesn’t see how they could be the same person. Martin is so caring, and helpful, and kind, and warm, and Blackwood isn’t. Jon is so wrapped up in his frustration that he does not know Martin is blushing as he says this. Martin suddenly has to go make a cup of tea. Right then.
-The next time it’s Martin defending Jon against Blackwood. Blackwood is happy that Martin is starting to assert himself but is exasperated that it’s only occuring because of his own failed attempts to get the archive staff to trust him. He suddenly wants his own Jon to come back so badly so he can tell him how ridiculous this entire situation is. So they can laugh together at how Blackwood advanced their younger counterparts’ relationship progress by at least 3 years by accidentally becoming the villain of their story, so Jon can tease him about it.
-The third time it’s Jon once again defending Martin, saying that Blackwood went too far, that he sounds like Martin’s mother and he made him cry. Mr. Blackwood realizes that, yeah he does absolutely sound like his mum and he has to leave and reasses his actions. He hadn’t realized he was picking up her specific way of critisizing-well-himself. It’s just how he talked to himself in his own head- which- well- which wasn’t great.
-Jon is so surprised that he managed to actually get one-up on Mr. Blackwood that he takes everyone out for drinks and insists on paying. Which is a nice distraction for Martin. 
-It also, Blackwood notices, means Jon is getting closer to his archive staff and hanging out with them. It gives him a bittersweet hapiness. He’s so happy that they’re all closer in this timeline, that he managed to force Jon into socializing and Martin and Jon to get close. But he realizes he did it by being the outsider and interloper that they’re defending against, and he’s not quite part of this new group of the archive staff. He’s happy for them, just lonely. Even Sasha and Tim, who he gets along with more than Jon or Martin, are wary to trust him. He’s not telling them everything. He has to fight against Elias without the aid of spooky Eye powers and he’s unsure of when Elias is listening, so he’s not mentioning everything. He’s not telling them who killed Gertrude Robinson. He’s being evasive on the reasons he does not trust Elias, and about what power succeded at causing the apocalypse.
-As the days go by with no sign of His Jon/ Mr. Sim’s coming back his old connection to The Lonely intensifies and he becomes able to turn invisible and go by unnoticed again. The archive staff notice that he becomes spookier and sadder and- slightly less human and it decreases their trust in him.
[Check My Blog for a Part 2. I am writing this in one sitting, but this particular document has become long enough.]
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