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spanishskulduggery · 3 years

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Hi! I'm very curious about something regarding the Spanish language. I'm currently studying A2 Spanish but I had this question and my teacher did not seem too willing to discuss it. Here it goes:

I know that Spanish has, something my Spanish teacher says, linguistic gender. I was wondering how do the people who don't align themselves with the gender binary (masculine and feminine) speak/write in it? I have read this article about Spanish speaking people from US adding "x" Or "@" and people from Argentina using "e" to make the words gender neutral.

Thank you so much for responding, whenever you get to it. Also love your blog. ❤

Short answer, in general speaking terms people are tending towards the -e now because the other two are very hard to actually speak, and because Spanish-speakers feel the -e is more authentic

What you're most likely to see in Spanish is masculine plural as the default, or in written things you might see todos y todas or like un/una alumno/a "a student", or like se busca empleado/a "employees wanted" / "looking for an employee"

If it's something official or academic you typically include both [todas y todas] or you go masculine plural [todos] unless it's specifically feminine plural

Related, linguistic gender applies to all things, not just people. Why is la mesa "table" feminine, but el libro "book" masculine? Just linguistic gender. I can tell you that most loanwords (that aren't people) in Spanish are masculine, and that there are certain words that come from Greek are masculine, and that -ista words are unisex most of the time... And I can tell you there are some words like testigo or modelo that are unisex and don't change for gender. Aside from that, speaking about nouns and grammatical gender... those particular things are harder to parse for regular people, but if you go into the field of linguistics you can explore that more deeply. Some of it is source language (i.e. "it came from Latin this way") or things like that. And in general when talking about nouns it's unimportant and not considered sexist, that's just how it is.

There is such a thing where it gets a little too far the other way and people will say "history? what about herstory" which is a nice thought but the etymology has nothing to do with gender there

When it comes to people - and when it comes to gendered attitudes - that's where it gets more confusing and more complicated.

I believe there was an experiment where people had French and Spanish speakers [I believe it was Spanish] try to identify how a "fork" would sound. French people gave it a more feminine voice because "fork" is feminine in French, while Spanish speakers gave it a more masculine voice because it's masculine in Spanish.

Whether we like it or not, certain gendered things do influence our thoughts and feelings and reactions. A similar thing in English exists where the old joke was something like "There was a car accident; a boy is rushed to the ER and the surgeon but the father was killed. When they got to the ER the doctor said 'I can't operate on him, he's my son!'" and it's like "well who could the doctor be?" ...and the doctor is his mother. We associate "doctor" as masculine and "nurse" as feminine.

There's a gender bias in our language thought patterns, even though the language changes. And that does exist in Spanish too, to different extents.

There are certain cultural and gendered stereotypes or connotations attached to certain words, many tend to be more despective or pejorative when it's women.

For example - and I know this has changed in many places or it isn't as prevalent - el jinete "horseman/rider", while the female form is la amazona "horsewoman/rider". Because la jinete or la jineta was sometimes "promiscuous woman".

There were also debates about things like la presidente vs. la presidenta or what the female version of juez should be, whether it should be la juez or la jueza

Most languages with gendered language have varying degrees of this, and all languages I'm aware of have gendered stereotypes related to professions or cultural attitudes in some way, and not just for women, and not all in the same way with some of them being very culturally based

The longer answer involves a bit of history, and I'll be honest, some of it is contested or considered a little controversial in Spanish-speaking countries particularly in the conservative parts (which honestly should come as no surprise)

The first symbol that I know of that came about was the X

First piece of contested history: As far as I know, it was the trans/queer and drag communities in Latin America who started the trend of X. When there were signs or bulletins that had the gendered endings - specifically masculine plural as the default plural - people would write a big X through the O. This was a way of being inclusive and also a very smash the patriarchy move.

Some people attribute this to women's rights activists which may also be true, but a good portion of the things I read from people say it was the trans/queer/drag communities in Latin America doing this.

I've also read it originated in Brazil with Portuguese; still Latin America, but not a Spanish-speaking country.

Where it's most contested is that some people will say that this trend started in the Hispanic communities of the United States. And - not without reason - people are upset that this is perceived as a very gringo movement.

That's why Latinx is considered a very American-Hispanic experience

The arroba (@) is relatively new. I remember seeing it in the 2000s. I don't know if it existed earlier for gender inclusivity.

People used it because it looks like a combination of O and A, so it was meant to be cut down on saying things like todos y todas or niños y niñas in informal written speech

I remember quite a few (informal) emails starting like hola tod@s or muy buenas a tod@s or things like that

I think of it more as convenience especially in the information age where you never knew who you were talking to and it's easier than including both words, especially when masculine plural might be clumsy or insensitive

Still, it's practically impossible to use the @ in spoken Spanish, so it's better for writing casually. You also likely won't be allowed to use the @ in anything academic, but in chatrooms, blogs, or forums it's an option

I love the E ending. And the gender neutral form in singular is elle... so it's él "he", ella "she", and elle "they (singular)"

The -e ending is I think became more common within the past 10 years though it might have existed longer than that. These sorts of changes tend to come from the queer or trans communities and tend to be more insular before becoming more of an outside thing that then the general population finds out about

It came about because there are some adjectives in Spanish that end in -e that are unisex. It's not an A, it's not an O, but it's something grammatically neutral for Spanish

It's not as awkward as X, and E exists very firmly in Spanish so it's not perceived as some outside (typically gringo) influence

The good news is, it's pretty widespread on the internet. Not so much in person (yet), but especially in Spain and Argentina at least from what I've seen, particularly in the queer communities and online culture.

The only issues with it are that for non-native speakers, you have to get used to any spelling changes. Like amigo and amiga, but to use the E ending you have to add a U... so it's amigue.

That's because there are certain words where you have to do spelling changes to preserve the sound; gue has a hard G sound like -go does [like guerra]... but ge has the equivalent of an English H sound [gelatina for example]. Another one is cómico/a "funny" which would go to cómique. Again, because co has a hard C/K sound, while ce is a soft sound more like an S or in some contexts TH/Z sound; like centro is a soft sound, while cola is a hard sound

Unless you make it to the preterite forms where you come across like pagué, alcancé, practiqué with those types of endings... or subjunctive forms, pague, alcance, practique ... Basically you'd have to be exposed to those spelling rules or you'd be really confused if you were a total beginner.

It all makes sense when you speak it, but spelling might be harder before you learn those rules

The other drawback is that the E endings are sometimes not applicable. Like in damas y caballeros "ladies and gentlemen" there's not really a gender neutral variation on that, it's all binary there. And while la caballero "female knight" does exist, you'd never see a male variation on dama; the closest I've ever seen is calling a guy a damisela en apuros "damsel in distress" in some contexts where the man needs rescuing, and it's feminine una/la damisela, and it's very tongue-in-cheek

There are also some contexts like jefe vs jefa where I guess you would say jefe for "boss" if you were going the neutral route, but it's a bit weird because it's also the masculine option.

I can't speak for how people might feel about those if they're non-binary or agender because every so often you kind of get forced into the binary whether you like it or not

I totally support the E, I just recognize there are some limitations there and it's quirks of the Spanish language itself

Important Note: Just to reiterate, E endings are the ones most Spanish-speakers prefer because it's easiest to speak and doesn't have the American connotation that X does in some circles

Where it gets very "Facebook comment section" is that you'll see many Latin Americans traditionalists and conservatives claim that "this is just the gringos colonizing our language" and "grammatical gender doesn't matter in Spanish". They'll say that the "gender movement" is an American feminist movement and that it's a gringo thing and doesn't reflect actual Latin Americans or Spanish-speakers

Which on the one hand, yes, English does have a lot of undue influence on other languages because of colonization, and American influence and meddling in Latin American politics is a big important issue

But as far as I'm aware of the X (and especially the E) were created by Latin Americans

The other issue I personally have is that any time this conversation comes up, someone will say something like somos latinOs and claim that masculine plural is gender neutral

To that I say, first of all, "masculine plural" is inherently gendered. Additionally, there is a gender neutral in Spanish but it's lo or ello and it's only used with "it" so it sounds very unfriendly to use on an actual person... and in plural it looks like masculine plural and everything applies like masculine plural

Second, the reason masculine plural is default is because of machismo. It's more important that we don't possibly misgender a man, so it has to be masculine plural. It's changed in some places, but growing up when I was learning Spanish, if it was 99 women and 1 man you still had to put masculine plural

I'm not opposed to there being a default, and I understand why it's easier to use masculine plural, but some people get very upset at the idea of inclusive language

...

In general, my biggest issues with these comments come when people act like non-binary/queer/trans people don't exist in Spanish-speaking countries, like English invented them somehow. So it's nice to see linguistic self-determination and seeing native speakers using the E endings.

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featherymalignancy · 3 years

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How About a Hug, Hm? REMIX

So a few days ago I got this ask about my Elriel one-shot “How About A Hug?” because I messed up the formatting and I you basically have to to read it as a reblog. I also was really unsatisfied with the end result.

So, I did the most Feathery™️ thing every and REWROTE THE WHOLE GODDAMN THING.

Please enjoy, and know that I will go back and tag people/clean up formatting tomorrow. Right now I just need to post and 😴

——————————————————

Elain Archeron was running late.

Granted, it was only by seven minutes, which—in many social circles—was still considered well within the accepted boundaries of punctuality.

The problem was that a) being late made Elain anxious, and b) there was absolutely nothing polite about Nesta Archeron when she was made to wait, even by her own kin.

Yet another reason it had been critical that Elain arrive on time: Nesta was already likely to be somewhat hacked off when she saw what Elain was wearing tonight, and Elain had hoped to avoid any further dramatics on her elder sister’s part.

She spent half the cab ride downtown trying to convince herself that it was fine that she’d borrowed something out of Nesta’s closet (even if it had been without permission) and that she hadn’t had a choice; she simply didn’t own anything appropriate for dinner at a four-star restaurant. However, by the time the cab slithered under Trump Tower’s unsavory shadow and into Hell’s Kitchen, she’d given up pretending.

The truth was she had half a dozen cocktail dresses that would have been perfectly suitable for dinner in the West Village, even if the place they were going was one of the nicest sushi restaurants in the city. No, Elain had raided Nesta’s closet for a far more embarrassing reason: she’d been in search of a dress she hoped might finally win her Azriel’s attention.

She wasn’t proud of the absurd crush she had on the guy, but it really couldn’t be helped. He was gorgeous, and smart, and darkly funny when he wanted to be, and she’d been secretly mooning over him since they’d met through Feyre’s fiancée three years ago. God, what she wouldn’t give to have him return even a fraction of her feelings.

Apparently not her dignity, Elain thought with a glance down at her neckline.

The worst part was that Azriel seemed oblivious to her interest in him. He was always polite to her, always made a point to talk to her when he caught her hiding out on the balcony during one of Feyre and Rhys’s crazy parties or sit next to her at their big family dinners, but he’d never once given her any indication that he was in any way that he reciprocated her feelings, which should have been reason enough for Elain to pack it in and stop harassing him.

And that was to say nothing of Mor.

Mor was the friend who’d first introduced Feyre and Rhys, and from what Elain could gather, she and Azriel had a long and complicated history. It didn’t seem to matter that Mor had been dating the same girl for over a year now. When she was in the room, Az’s eyes were always on her. Not that Elain blamed him—Mor was gorgeous in a way girls like her could only dream of being. Still, there was no denying the sting of watching the guy you were interested in pine over someone else.

Given all this, Elain wasn’t really sure why she’d gone to such lengths to dress up for this dinner. Mor would surely be there wearing something incredible and couture, thereby rendering everyone else invisible to Azriel. Still, Elain was a hopeless optimist, and she’d stubbornly sold herself on the idea that if she found the perfect dress, she could finally convince Azriel that she was a woman worthy of affection, rather than Nesta’s bookish, boring little sister.

She had to admit, there was nothing bookish about her tonight. The dress was tighter on her that it was her waifish sister, and dear god it deserved a Medal of Honor for the way it managed to keep her boobs looking so perky even without a bra. She didn’t suppose Nesta would be too happy about that bit, either, so she could only hope her sister was in a good mood by the time Elain arrived.

Just then Elain’s phone buzzed, and she looked down at it and groaned. It was from Nesta.

Where the 🤬 are you?

Running late, Elain quickly typed back. Is everyone waiting?

She watched the gray ellipsis pulse at Nesta responded.

Feyre and Rhys aren’t even fucking here yet. But hurry up, Cash is already driving me insane.

Elain rolled her eyes. She wasn’t sure who Nesta thought she was fooling when she and Elain shared a bedroom wall. Nesta and Cassian, Rhys’s other best friend, ended up banging almost every time they saw each other, which—since Rhys and Feyre had gotten engaged four months ago—was fairly frequently. In fact, Cash was at their apartment making Nesta scream so often that Elain had been forced to invest in earplugs and a sound machine. From Elain’s perspective, it seemed rather pointless of Nesta to pretend she wasn’t completely hot of a guy she called “Daddy” in bed.

Elain shuddered at the thought, hoping that Nesta would end up going to Cash and Az’s loft in Williamsburg tonight instead. Though, she realized glumly, they only ever seemed to go there when Azriel was out, and the only person who seemed able to keep Azriel out later than Cash was Mor. That meant Elain’s options were either to pop an Ambien and hope for the best, or stay out and watch Az make moon eyes at Mor all night. Neither one was particularly appearing.

Elain ignored Nesta’s text as the car pulled up outside the restaurant and she wiggled out, smoothing the back of her tight dress before giving her curls what she hoped was an artful tousle before slipping inside.

Elain’s heart felt into her stomach as she took in the elegant but understated interior of the famed Sushi Nakazawa. Given the prices, she’d assumed the place would be all black granite and swanky chandeliers—the kind of place cleavage like hers wouldn’t seem out of place. Instead the place was elegantly spare and distressingly well-lit. God, she was such a prize idiot.

Unfortunately, she was also out of time, because a quick survey of the interior found that her group was already gathered at the bar, Mor, Feyre, and Rhys having showed up in the interim between Nesta’s text and Elain’s arrival.

Elain’s eyes went to Mor first, who stunned in a cardinal red lace and net sheath. It clung to her frame like it had been made for her, and despite a latent jealous she couldn’t quite contain, she was relieved to find that she at least wouldn’t look overdressed.

Elain’s stomach only wended in a tighter knot when Mor’s eyes fell on her and lit up, a reminder that not only was Mor prettier, she was also an infinitely better person than Elain.

“There she is!” Mor beamed, coming forward and hugging Elain. “I love that dress, Ellie!”

Elain braced herself for Nesta’s inevitably remark, but it was actually Cash who reacted first.

He’d opened his mouth to comment seemingly before he’d actually looked at Elain, because the second he realized what exactly she was wearing, his eyes they snapped the ceiling, as if looking at her chest directly might turn him to stone.

“Whoa, El, all dressed up tonight!”

Nesta, wholly unmoved by his attempted chivalry, elbowed him in the ribs.

“Don’t be vulgar Cassian!” She snarled before narrowing her eyes. “And that’s mine!”

Cash smirked, seeming more at ease now that Nesta was his target.

“I knew I’d seen that bef—ow! Goddamnit woman, what was that for?”

He scowled down at the dangerous stiletto Nesta had just jammed into his toe box.

“Sorry,” she cast over her shoulder, not deigning to look at him. “Did I accidentally step on your foot?”

“I’m an adult,” Elain interjected, cheeks burning as she faced her sister down. “Stop acting like I’ve fourteen and stuffing my bra.”

“They’re just boobs, Nes,” Rhys added, arm slung over Feyre’s shoulder. “Relax.”

“Watch it,” Nesta warned him, but Feyre only laughed.

“I agree!” She said, turning to smile at Elain. “And I think they look amazing.”

“If I’d have known they were going to be such a topic of conversation,” Elain mumbled, grateful Azriel wasn’t here to witness this circus. “I would have worn something else.”

“No, I’m with Feyre,” Mor said, wicked grin forming. “Breasts that nice deserve to be shown off.”

Elain wasn’t so humble that she didn’t feel herself preening a bit at that comment, even if she was still flustered by the prolonged attention. Either way, she was grateful when Cash interrupted with a somewhat sheepish laugh.

“Teenage me would be furious if he heard me say this, but can we please stop talking about boobs?”

“Elain’s boobs or just any boobs?” Feyre said with a smirk.

However, before Elain could admonish her for it, Feyre was crushing her into a hug.

“Hey you,” she said, wrapping her arms and Elain’s neck and whispering in her ear, “let me and Rhys know if you wanna stay at our place tonight; Cash already grabbed Nesta’s ass twice when she thought we weren’t looking.”

Feyre indicated the mirror behind the bar with her eyes as they pulled away, and sure enough, Elain watched Cash’s hand as it drew lazy, dangerous circles just above the swell of Nesta’s well-formed behind.

Elain groaned, hugging Rhys now as well. God , her sister was such a hypocrite sometimes.

Ignoring a lingering twinge of annoyance, Elain forced herself to glance in false realization before casually asking, “So where’s the Birthday Boy?”

“He was on his phone out back,” Rhys said, before raising a hand in greeting to someone over Elain’s shoulder. “There he is.”

Elain tried not to look to eager as she turned and drank in all six feet four inches of perfection that was Azriel Macar. He was dressed all in black, from his prada boots to the soft, expensive t-shirt fitted enough to show off his toned physique. Elain honestly had to fight not to swoon as he ran an effortless hand through his glossy sable hair, the longer pomaded pieces on top stand up for a second before falling into an artful tousle.

“Hey Ellie,” he said, gaze on her and gone so quickly that he never even had time to notice her much-discussed cleavage. Instead, his eyes flicked to Mor and held for a long, meaningful beat before he turned back to Elain and added politely, “Thanks for coming.”

“Sure,” she chirped, trying to ignore the fact that he was coming closer, and that in another second she’d be able to smell that divine Givenchy cologne he always wore. “Of course!“

She bent her head, pretending to be fixing the clasp on her bracelet as his scent hit her and she had to bite back a groan. Sweet Jesus, he smelled good. When she looked up again, everyone else was shuffling to their table and Azriel was lingering, a soft smile threatening to the reveal the absolutely devastating dimples in both his cheeks.

“Do I get a hug?” He asked. “It is my birthday after all.”

He extended his arms, and she gave a nervous laugh, accepting the gesture by stringing her arms around his neck.

“Of course,” she repeated stupidly, trying to ignore the way the muscles in his arms flexed as he embraced her. “Happy Birthday.”

At this he squeezed her a little tighter and she fought off genuine giddiness.

It was a friendly gesture, she warned herself, and it ended the minute Mor called, “Az, come sit by me.”

Elain cleared her throat as he pulled away, turning to where Mor was still beckoning. However, before Elain could get too flustered, he turned back to her.

“Shall we?” he said, indicating Elain go ahead of him. To her delight, they reached the table to find that the only two seats left were next to each other. She tried not to give her eagerness too much leash as he pulled out her chair for her before sinking into the one between she and Mor. Mor leaned over to give him a soft peck on the cheek, and he flushed.

“Where’s Emmy tonight?” Feyre asked as Mor tried to wipe the lipstick from Az’s copper skin and he battered her away, like child trying to fend off an over-bearing mother.

“She’s sick, poor little thing,” Mor said, giving a tiny pout. “She hasn’t been able to get out of bed in days.”

Elain didn’t bother to her disappointment. Emerie had been one of Nesta’s best since they’d met in college almost ten years ago, and she not only was she like family to the Archerons, she also happened to be the only person in the group who knew about Elain’s crush. Elain had sworn her to secrecy at the time, and though it would have been reasonable to assume that once Emmy knew, Mor would know, Elain appreciated that she could trust Emerie to keep her secret.

Elain felt Emerie’s absence keenly and Nesta and Cash began bantering back and forth at lightning speed. Emerie was a master at slowing the tempo of Nesta’s quick wit, making it easier for Elain in particular to feel she could keep up.

More selfishly, Elain also missed Emerie’s ability to keep Mor distracted. When Emmy was around, she was all Mor could focus on. However, in her absence Mor’s attention had reverted almost completely to Az, a fact he didn’t seemed to mind a single bit, if his growing smiles were any indication.

Still, he seemed to be going out of his way to make sure Elain didn’t get lost in the chaos of conversation surging around them, even if he never looked at her for more than a moment or two before his eyes flicked back to Mor, studying her dark brown eyes and crimson lips.

After they placed their drink orders and the waiter came over to begin explaining the omakase menu, Elain wondered if she had time to dodge under the table to throw on some lipstick of her own. Assuring herself everyone was suitably distracted she bent down, hastily uncapping the tube before looking up just in time to see Nesta brush a very deliberate hand between Cassian’s splayed quads.

Elain jerked back, banging her head on the table.

“Fuck!” she swore quietly, straightening and rubbing her head.

Nesta shot her an alarmed look across the table and Elain flushed.

“All you alright?” Azriel asked, and she tried not to bleat in excited panic as his fingers brushed the back of her head. “What happened?”

“I—dropped something,” she fumbled, cursing her sister for being such a salacious wench.

Wasn’t it enough that she and Cash were already going to keep her up all night? Did she really have to make Elain look silly in front of Azriel, too?

“Does it hurt?” Azriel said, still studying her head before letting his eyes go to the server. “Do you need ice?”

“No, no,” Elain said hurriedly, trying to regain her composure. “I’m fine.”

“Did you at least find whatever you were looking for?” Mor asked, and Elain’s flush deepened.

“And then some,” she grumbled to herself, and Cassian gave a quiet but unmistakable laugh before letting out a surprised exhale. Elain had a fairly good idea what Nesta was squeezing to shut him up.

“Should we order, then?” Mor asked, hand falling onto Azriel’s arm. “Any particular requests, Birthday Boy?”

“He’s thirty now,” Rhys pointed out. “I think that makes him a Birthday Man .”

“Birthday Old Man,” Cassian amended. “Don’t worry champ, I’ve already put some viagra in your bathroom.”

“You’re not supposed to share your prescriptions, Cash,” Azriel said with mirth, eyes sparkling even as his face remained neutral. “And besides, I would feel dead back if you needed one tonight and couldn’t find them.”

“Checkmate,” Mor purred as Cash flipped her off.

Beside Azriel, Elain was fighting not to blush again. Cash’s comment, however sophomoric and lewd, had her imagining what Azriel was like in bed. She wondered for a moment if Mor knew before dismissing the thought and the twinge it induced.

“Let’s put this poor souls out of his misery and order,” Feyre said, smiling at the server where he still waited patiently. “Maybe if Cash’s mouth is full, he’ll stop talking.”

Cassian grinned, and, after placing their requests for the chef’s tasting menu, they all settled into an easy conversation. Cash and Rhys regaled them with stories of Azriel at various ages, from the gawky child he’d been when they’d first met him to the shy teenager who’d been terrified of girls.

“Let him be,” Mor said, touching her friend’s shoulder. “He was sweet in high school!”

Rhys laughed.

“It took him a year to pluck up the courage to say three words to you,” he pointed out.

“And they were ‘here’s a pen’ in response to you asking him the time. Nice work, Shakespeare,” Cash said, attempting to muss Azriel’s perfectly styled hair before being batted away.

“I can’t imagine Az ever being awkward,” Elain blurted. “I bet girls thought he was mysterious and cool.“

“See?” Azriel said, gesturing to Elain. “This is why I sat over here.”

“Oh please ,” Rhys said, bubbling his lips. “Ellie’s just being polite. If you two had known each other in high school, we all know how to would’ve gone: you’d have had an obscene crush on her and your dreams of true love would have been dashed after she politely signed your yearbook ‘have a good summer, Adrian’, leaving you heartbroken and alone.”

Azriel gave Elain a soft smile, and her heart burst open as thousands of butterflies flitted out of it.

“I hate to say it, but he’s probably right,” he told her. “I assume high school Elain was very popular.”

“She was,” Feyre said. “Eight different guys asked her to prom.”

“I’m not surprised,” Az said, and Elain made a great show out of drinking out of her masu to avoid having to answer.

She was relieved when the food began arriving to distract everyone, if only to save her the temptation of telling Azriel that there was no universe in which she wouldn’t have been into him, high schoolers or no.

Instead discussion turned to the Feyre and Rhys’s wedding as they ate, and as final plates were being cleared, Cash took the opportunity to once again mocked Azriel for the fact the latter had lost the rock-paper-scissors competition to be Rhys’s best man.

“I lost on purpose,” he told Elain quietly, taking a sip of the Yamasaki Single Malt he’d ordered after dinner.

“Why?” she laughed, following his gaze across the table to where Cash and Nesta were now bickering about whether Rhys’s stag night in Vegas would be better than Feyre’s hen do in Napa.

“Because Rhys told me that you’d convinced Feyre to pick Nesta as her maid of honor, and no offense, but your sister terrifies me. I’d much rather be with you.”

She laughed, biting her lip. It felt so terribly like they were flirting, but she couldn’t decide if it was her imagination or not.

“She terrifies everyone,” Elain said. “And I have a feeling this won’t our last trip down the aisle together.”

Azriel only quirked a bemused brow at this, which had Elain flushing scarlet.

“Not like that! She laughed, fumbling to pretend the idea of them being together was absurd rather than her heart’s desire. "I meant for Cash and Nesta’s wedding. Don’t tell me those two aren’t going to end up together.”

“We’ll have to work out a custody agreement when they finally get over themselves and start dating properly,” he agreed. “I’m spending a fortune on earplugs.”

She laughed, and he seemed warmed by the gesture, because he flashed a modest—albeit dimpled—smile being turning back to the larger conversation.

After dinner they’d gone a cocktail bar, then an Irish pub, and finally—much to Azriel’s chagrin—a karaoke bar. Rhys and Cash spend the majority of the evening trying to wrestle Azriel on stage while Mor and Feyre sang duets to Beyoncé and Spice Girls.

Elain was content enough to sit back and simply observe the scene as it unfolded around her. It was hard to contain her giddy, dreadful anticipation when Mor left around one to check on Emerie and Azriel—besides bidding her farewell with a soft kiss on the cheek—didn’t move a muscle.

Less than an hour later, Cash and Nesta both disappeared about an hour after without so much as a goodbye. Elain groaned, hoping they’d be asleep by the time she got home.

She’d have to rally if she wanted to manage it; they would be at it for hours yet.

By three the place was clearing out, and besides them, only a few tables of marathon drinkers and a girl on stage performing a beautiful rendition of Fleetwood Mac’s “Landslide” remained.

“We’re gonna go,” Rhys said, arm slung around a rather drunk, giggling Feyre. “Ellie, do you want to come with us?”

Elain glanced at Azriel, who’s glass still had two fingers of whiskey in it. If she wanted a chance to be alone with him, this was it.

“I think I’ve got one more in me,” she said, smiling.

“If you mean drink, I’m in,” Azriel said.

“Oh c’mon, brother,” Rhys goaded. “Just one song. I wouldn’t even film it….much.”

“Do Beyoncé!” Feyre chimed in, and Azriel shook his head.

“You know I’d play in traffic before I ever sang karaoke,” Azriel said mildly, making Feyre laugh. "Thanks for coming.”

He rose, embracing Rhys and pressing a kiss on Feyre’s head.

“C’mon, my little drunkard,” Rhys told her. “Let’s get you to bed.”

“Let’s have sex when we get home,” Feyre said, her attempted whisper fully audible. Rhys pretended smack his forehead with his palm and a mimed, “ Oh brother ”, to Azriel and Elain before coax a still-singing Feyre outside.

Azriel chuckled before draining the last of his drink and rising. Elain pretended not to notice the way his well-tailored jeans fit his lean legs and…other parts of his anatomy as he adjusted his belt buckle and glanced down at her.

“Bud Light?” he asked, and she nodded, bobbing to her feet as well.

If she wanted a way to get closer to him that was more elegant than her increasing urge to crawl across the table and into his lap, this was certainly it.

“I’ll come with you.”

He flashed her a modest smile before indicating she lead the way. He ordered and waved off Elain’s attempt to pay before leaning on the bar to avoid towering over her. The gesture brought them nearly eye-to-eye, and Elain had to actively fight not to let hers roll back in pleasure at the bergamot and amyris wood notes in his sinful cologne. Up close Elain could see how much green he had in his hazel irises, and she wanted to tip into them and swim until she drowned.

“Did you have fun?” she said, desperate to get the conversation flowing again, and he smiled, making her stomach flop.

“I did, yeah,” he said, glancing around the bar in bemusement, as if still wondering how he’d ended up there. “Thank you for coming.”

Elain shrugged, grinning.

“You say that like you didn’t think I’d show,” she said, resting a cheek in her hand. She knew by now her expression was not her less than a swoon, though she couldn’t bring herself to care.

Hadn’t been this been her plan all along? Finally get Az’s attention long enough to tell him how she felt? Now was the best chance she’d probably ever get.

“No, I figured would,” Az said, interrupting her reverie. “Or hoped you would, whatever.”

Was that—

Did that mean what she thought it did?

Normally she would have chalked it up to wishful thinking, but the way he rubbed the back of his neck, dimples appearing as he huffed what almost sound like a sheepish laugh, had hope igniting in her chest.

“What does that mean?” she pressed, forcing herself to meet his gaze.

For the first time all night, he didn’t look away. Instead, his eyes skated back and forth across her face, as if she were a riddle he only had seconds to memorize. She watched, transfixed, as he wet his plush lower lip with his tongue before biting it almost self-consciously.

“It means I’m glad you came,” he admitted. “And that you didn’t go home with your sister and Rhys.”

It wasn’t the confirmation she’d been hoping for, and the ambiguity of the statement had her conviction waning. That could just as easily have been mean platonically, and if she pushed him and ruined things between them by making it awkward—

“Of course I’d be here for your birthday,” she said, giving his shoulder a playful shove. “That’s what friends are for.”

She couldn’t help the way her voice got stuck on the word, not when her throat suddenly began to clog with tears.

She had to get out of here, right now. Before she started crying and made things worse. She made to retract her hand but Azriel grabbed it, grip gentle but intent.

“El, don’t go,” he said, and she was surprised at the frank discontent in his normally-impassive expression.

She waited for him to explain himself before instead he let out another strained laugh, grip on her wrist easing. However, he didn’t let go entirely, choosing to intertwine their fingers instead.

Holding hands.

She and Az were holding hands.

And he—

She glanced back up to find he was studying her again, his face a mixture of terror and delight. When she gave his hand a soft squeeze, he let out the breath he’d been holding.

“Jesus, I am bad at this,” he said, reaching up to tuck a curl behind her ear. She wasn’t sure if she’d imagined it, but she thought his gaze flicked down to her lips as he continued to study her with heavy-lidded eyes.

“Bad at what?” She asked, though she’d begun to suspect she knew exactly what, even if it seemed too good to be true.

“At least my timeline is improving,” he breathed instead. “And I haven’t offered you a pen you didn’t ask for yet.”

Hoping she wasn’t misreading the situation, she let her finger trail down to trace the circular buckle of his Gucci before glancing back up at him and purring, “Do you have a pen?”

He smirked before raising his right wrist and glancing at his watch face over her shoulder.

“It’s….3:17 am,” he said, smile spreading as she gave a low sound of approval and flicked her gaze to his lips.

“Smooth,” she said, and tried not to lose her mind as he let his raised hand fall to the back of her neck and bent to kiss her.

He had almost girlishly full lips, and they opened for her as they settled into the kiss. Immediately his hand tangled in her hair so he could alter her head position slightly and get a proper taste of her. She groaned into his mouth he pulled at her lower lip with his teeth. He tasted like oranges and the expensive Japanese whiskey he’d been drinking all night, and pleasure tightened in her low belly as his tongue brushed hers. Her brought his free hand up to cradle her face, and in response she pushed closer to run her hands underneath of his shirt and down the silken skin of his back.

“Fuck,” he breathed with a heated half-laugh, nose brushing her cheek as he bowed into her touch. “You’re killing me, woman.”

She only smirked, feeling more confident now that she had before. She could hardly believe this was happening, but she was too excited about it to fully care.

“Let’s get out of here,” she said, and he bit his lip, as if restraining himself from kissing her again.

“Like to another bar?” he asked, dazed as he continued to stare at her lips.

“Like to my bed,” she said boldly. “Or yours, depending on where Cassian and Nesta ended up.”

He didn’t speak immediately, just studied her, and she panicked.

“I mean, only if you—I’m sorry, should I not have—?“

He only kissed her again in response, more gently this time.

“Please stop apologizing,” he said, kissing her jaw now before seeming to realize something and pulling back, brows synced.

“I—Jesus, do you seriously not know?”

She felt a bit sheepish at his incredulous tone and fought not to stiffen.

“Know what?”

He laughed softly, though their was a edge of self-deprecation in it that kept the gesture from seeming conscending.

“I really am the worst at this.”

“At what?”

“El, I’ll crazy about you. I have been crazy about you since we met.”

“You have?” she blurted, horror fading into genuine—if elated—confusion.

He laughed.

“Did you think it was coincidence that you and I are always sitting next to each other at dinner? That I always find you at Rhys’s dumb parties?”

“I—“ she began, still trying to decide if this was a dream or not. “What about Mor, though?”

“Mor?” he repeated, confused now, too. “What about her?”

“I thought you and she—“

He leaned in to brush his nose against hers, and she blushed at the innocent affection in the gesture.

“Not at all,” he assured her. “I did have a thing for her in high school, but I got over it after she and Cash slept together at prom. We’re just friends, I swear.”

“But she’s always touching you, and every time I see you together you can’t stop looking at her.”

At this he laughed, his smile so genuine and open she almost didn’t recognize him.

“She’s always been touchy-feely,” he said. “She grew up in Madrid, and people are just more affectionate there, I guess. And I only watch her when you’re around because she called me out for having an absurd crush on you, and I was afraid she was going to get drunk and blow my cover by telling you.”

Elain shook her head, still not quite believing what she was hearing. Reading her expression, he bent to kiss her softly.

“What guy wouldn’t be crazy about you?” he breathed. “You’re incredible.”

This seemed to break the spell, and she twined her fingers in his hair and pulled him down for another steamy kiss.

“Text Cash,” she said a little breathlessly when they broke away. “I don’t want an audience.”

She couldn’t felt but feeling smug when he almost dropped his phone at those words. It felt good to know that she wasn’t the only one affected by all this.

“Cash and Nesta are at the lof—“ Az began after a minute, but Elain cut him off with a kiss.

H rose, pulling her against him as his tongue brushed the roof of her mouth.

“Are you sure you want to do this?” he said as she kissed his neck and tugged on his earlobe with her teeth, earning a low groan. “You’ve been drinking.”

She grabbed his chin so he would look at her.

“Not that much,” she said, and it was true. “And besides, I wanted this way before tonight.“

“Good,” he breathed, pressing a hand to her low back to bring her close to him. “Because so have I.”

Though they spent the majority of the ride up town and the elevator up to her apartment making out, something seemed to shift as Elain’s door clicked shut behind him, as if the gravity of what they were about to do had finally caught up to them.

Reluctantly Az peeled his lips from where they’d been glued to her neck as he took a small step back, as if to give her space.

“What’s wrong?” She asked, feeling embarrassed for how much she still wanted him even now that he seemed to have come to his senses.

“Maybe we should—” he broke off, looking somewhat guilty. “Hold off.”

She nodded, trying to keep the tears at bay again.

“Are you worried this could mess things up in the group? Because I understand—“

“No,” he said hurriedly, coming forward again, as if he could no longer stand to be away. “Not at all. I just—you’re special, El. You deserve to be taken out and spoiled.”

“Az, you just took us to a $1,800 dinner! Or did you think I didn’t see you pulling our server aside?”

Azriel opened his mouth, and she covered it with a finger.

“You don’t need to earn my affection. It’s yours already, free of charge.”

“I’ve just been—I waited so long to make my move and I’m terrified of fucking it up,” he said with a soft laugh.

“Why, are you bad at sex?”

Azriel laughed, seemed to relax at her teasing.

“I’ve never had any complaints,” he breathed again her lips, kissing her deeply again.

She gently bit his lower lip in response.

“Then I’d say you’ve gotten nothing to worry about,” she said, kissing him a third time.

She moaned softly when drove his fingers into her hair, hips canting towards her as he pressed her more fully into the door.

She could feel his body’s reaction to her pressing between her thighs, and she moaned again.

“Fuck,” he breathed onto her skin. “You are so gorgeous.”

“So are you,” she said, running her hands up the back of his t-shirt and feeling the mosaic of muscles flexing underneath. “Take this off.”

He laughed and pulled the offending garment over his head, making her groan in delight.

“God, this body ,” she breathed, running a hand down his chest and enjoying his shiver at her delicate touch.

He responded by spinning her away from him and gently dragging down the zipper of her dress until he could slip a hand inside of it.

“I knew you couldn’t have a bra on underneath this thing,” he said, voice a touch smug as he cupped both bare breasts and her breath caught in her throat..

“I’m surprised you even noticed,” she said, voice somewhat. “I wore this dress for you, and you didn’t even look at it once the entire evening.”

She laughed, the sound into a soft moan as he twisted one nipple in experimentation. When she sighed and let her head fall back onto his shoulder.

“Of course I noticed the dress,” he corrected. “You have the most perfect tits I’ve ever seen. I just knew that if I let myself look, I might not be able to stop looking.”

“You shouldn’t say that until you’ve seen them without the sorcery of underwire,” she said.

With that he spun her to face him, catching her gaze to ensure he had her permission before tugging down the top of the dress so her breasts fell free.

“Gorgeous,” he said, easing to his knees so he could replace his fingers with his mouth. “Absolutely gorgeous.”

“If I known this was going to be your reaction, I would have worn a bodycon dress in front of you ages ago,” she said, threading her hands through his hair as he dragged his teeth and tongue along her nipple.

“You don’t need some tight dress to be sexy,” he said, resting his chin her her sternum so he could gaze up at her. “I’d take you in your overalls and pigtail braids any day.”

“Is this some Pippy Longstocking fetish we should all know about?”

He grinned, rising to his feet and giving one of her curls a playful tug.

“Because as devastating as you are playing dress up in your sister’s clothes, I prefer you as you.”

“You can’t say that when I’m naked,” she said with a smile, touching his cheek.

“Why not?”

“Because I may start crying and ruin the mood.”

He cocked his head to the side, tracing her lips with a finger.

“I wouldn’t mind a few tears from you in bed. But only if it’s from you sobbing in pleasure.”

His words sent blood pooling south, the intensity cause a dull throbbing.

“Why do I feel like you could do it, too?” She asked, reaching down to free his belt as he heeled out of his boots.

“Don’t tempt me,” he said, taking her hand and guiding it between his legs. “Forget this,” he said, squeezing gently so she could feel how hard he was. “I could go down on your all night and be the happiest guy on Earth.”

Emerie had said as much once, at a drunken girls’ night.

Azriel strikes me as the type of guy who loves eating girls out. It’s why gay women find him so easy to befriend; we recognize kindred spirit.

Elain vowed to never tell the others she’d been right.

“Will you let me?” He asked, gently nudging her dressing off her hips until it came free and pooled at her feet.

“Is this a trick question?” She said, voice going hoarse as he slipping a hand into her underwear.

“Some people don’t like it.”

“I’m not one of them,” she said, he smiled, coaxing her legs around his waist so he could carry her.

“Thank God,” he replayed. “That would break my heart. Which way?”

She pointed him in the right direction before giving into temptation and kissing him again, looking to way she could feel like body reacting to hers as he held her close. Only when they reached her room—which was decidedly messier than she’d have liked considering Azriel Macar was now in it—did he set her down.

He wasted no time into coaxing her onto the bed, taking only a moment to admire the silky black thong she wore before dragging into down her thighs and discarding it.

“Spread your legs for me, El,” he said, brushing kisses to her knee as she slowly did as he commanded.

The light from the nearby street lamp made the room a lot less dark than Elain was used to during sex, and for a moment she though to be embarrassed or postpone. Then she glanced down to admire the contrast of Azriel’s inky black hair framed against the pale skin of her thighs, and she forgot what it even meant to be self-conscious as he finally put him mouth on her.

She swore at the first brush of his tongue, which was both deliberate and extremely delicate. She threaded a hand through his hair at his second stroke, the touch more intentional this time.

“Azriel,” she breathed.

She watched the muscles in his beautiful back shift at this, as if hearing her moan his name had untethered something in him. When he put his mouth back on her, it was clear he was no longer attempted to tease her. Instead he felt right to where she needed him most, refusing to relent until she tipped over the edge.

Even then he didn’t seem satisfied, it and it was only after he made her come a second time did he pull back, licking his lips before bending to kiss her.

“Take your pants off,” she demanded. "Right now.”

She felt him grinning against her neck as he peeled off of her, slowly working the buttons of his pants before sliding them down his trim hips. He wore black boxer briefs underneath, and he honestly looked like an Armani model. She bit her lip, eying the sizable swell of him through the cotton.

“Those too,” she breathed, greedily drinking in his well-defined adonis belt and the bare trace of hair above the band.

He did as she commanded, and she nearly melted. Naked he was a God, all rippling muscles and smooth unblemished skin, save for the chest piece tattoo that extended onto his shoulders and halfway down his arms. She let her eyes sink lower. Even half-hard he was big, and her belly clenched.

Wasting no time, she urged him to take her place on the bed before kneeling at his feet and putting her mouth on it.

“Shit,” he hissed, driving a hand into his hand then down his face. “Ellie, you’re kiling me.”

She looked up at him through her lashes, and he growled in approval, seeming to decide something before breaking her grip on him and hauling her to her feet. He kissed her again, and she could feel his cock as it practically pulsed between them.

She still wasn’t sure she could believe it was for her, that somehow he wanted her as much as she did him, and had for almost as long.

“Condoms,” he breathed against her mouth. “I need to be inside of you.”

She froze.

“I don’t have any,” she said, dismayed.

How could she be so stupid? Why didn’t they stop on the way home? The closest bodega was six blocks, and she knew everyone who worked there. The last thing she needed was all of them knowing—

Azriel pressed a swift kiss to her lips before tangling from her.

“Where are you going?”

“To grab a condom.”

“Naked?

He flashed her a slight grimace, “Let’s agree you won’t ask where I get it from.”

“Oh Moses,” Elain said, face flushing scarlet as she listened to Nesta’s door creaking open.

Azriel was back in less than a minute, tossing an entire box onto the nightstand as he pulled open one of the foils with his teeth, using his free hand to push his damp hair, long enough to brush his cheekbones now that it wasn’t styled, out of his eyes.

“You found those distressingly fast,” Elain said, unsure if she was amused or mortified at the situation.

“Cash is predictable with his hiding spots,” Az said, eyes hooded as he stroked himself several times before rolling the condom onto his length.

“And why did you take the whole box?”

Azriel laughed softly.

“Because I have a feeling we’re going to need them.”

Without another word Az sank to his knees again, one hand lazily stroking himself to maintain his erection as he went down on her again.

This time it only last three seconds or so before he pulled back, resting one knee beside her hip to steady himself before pulling her onto his shaft in a single wet stroke. Using her left bent leg as leverage, he adjusted his angle, smirking at her low, guttural moan of pleasure.

“Good to know your g-spot is as sensitive as the rest of you,” he breathed, and she laughed and tugged him into an ambitious rhythm.

Soon the only sound was their shared breathing, and the sliding on their bodies against one another. She came first, and he followed even before the dizzying waves of pleasure ceased. He pumped lazily in and out of her for another half dozen stroke before gently extracting from her and peeling off the condom.

She curled against him, cheek pressed to chest as her hands continued to explore. Her fingers caressed his swelling pectorals and each of his abdominal muscles before lazily venturing back between his legs. He gave a hiss of pleasure as she began to work his silken shaft in earnest, and in minutes he was fully ready again.

He groaned when she snatched one of the condoms and rolled it onto him before swinging a leg over and sinking astride him.

Her third orgasm hit her only a short time later, and she sighed when he bucked up into her before going languid under her ministrations.

She leaned down to kiss him as he ran a soothing hand down her back.

“Jesus,” he breathed, pressing his forehead to hers and swirling his hips, still inside her despite his orgasm. “That was incredible.”

She purred her contentment, feeling something even more alluring than desire swell in her chest as he discarded the second condom and tugged her into his arms, tangling their legs. He still smelled like cologne, but it had mixed with her perfume, and sweat, and the scent was intoxicating. She wanted to bath in it—in him—until she died from bliss. She listened to his breathing even out, and as she was drifting off to bed, he felt his breath ruffle her hair.

“Do you like pancakes?” he murmured. “I want to make you breakfast in the morning.”

“Really?” she said, looking at him over a shoulder and melting at the warmth in his smile, less guarded now than it had been even hours before.

“I want to make breakfast for you every morning,” he breathed. “I have since I met you.”

She smiled, nestling closer to him.

“I’d love that, but I should probably be the one making you breakfast. It is your birthday, after all. You have to let me give you something other than a bj and a few orgasms for your birthday, even if it is your dirty 30.”

Az choked on a laugh.

“Say you‘ll dinner with me, then. No family or nosy friends around, just us.”

“I think the word you’re looking for it ‘date’,” she said, laughing as his cheeks flushed before realizing something. “Or is the idea just too formal for the situation? I know we did things a bit backwards...”

“We did,” he agreed, stroking her cheek. “But that doesn’t mean I want to spoil you any less. So yes a date, if you’ll still have me.”

“I will,” she said, meeting his hazel eyes before gently kissing him. “With pleasure.”

He smiled against her mouth.

“Then that’s the only birthday gift I want or need from you.”

She smiled, feeling happy to the point of bursting when he kissed her ear and closed his eyes again.

"Happy Birthday, Az.”

His hum of contentment vibrated through her back.

“The happiest,” he breathed.

#featherywrites #elriel smut #elain x azriel #acotar modern one shot #four word prompts

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honey-hippie-harper · 3 years

Text

Infrangible

AFGHSAGHJS THIS IS SO LATE IS NOT EVEN FUNNY ANYMORE LMAO

In my defense, I stopped being a person long ago and now, in all the ways except physical, I happen to be a potato. BUT ANYWAY :’) This is for the Renegades Ship Week hosted by @greasicookies <3 (Thanks again!), for day 5, which is Maxpie. The prompt is “secrets”! <3

I had a tough time writing this because I’m going through a lot of stuff rn :’) still, I hope you can enjoy it x’ddd.

Tag list: @healing-winston-pratt @obsidianfr3sk @the-wee-woo-rita and afsghagshja @all-weather-is-bad (because this is a very...me fic lol and I think you’re already used to my sad attempt at humor haahahaah i’M SORRY AGSHJAKL) AND @lackadae because agshjs I made a reference to one of your drawings, hon :’) (I promise once again, to catch up with your content once I feel better afsghjak).

And that’s it. I hope you like it <3

When Max turned nine, he reached the conclusion that everybody forgot their early years at some point. Before, Adrian had already explained to him that wasn’t quite true, because he misunderstood Max’s statement and thought he was feeling bad about himself for not being able to recall certain things. He told him that, unlike what he thought –which was false because that’s not what Max meant- people usually couldn’t store those memories from when they were younger than three.

“Some people do.” He said. “But it’s normal if you don’t remember anything from when you were…I don’t know. Two.”

“Do you remember anything from when you were two?” Max asked him.

From the other side of the glass, Adrian scrunched up his nose. And then, obviously, he saw himself in the need to adjust his glasses.

“I’m not quite sure whether I was two or not. But I do know I was younger than five.” He started. “There was a small canal on the way to the apartment. When it rained, it would grow a lot. It didn’t have big torrents or anything, but it did grow a lot. The water usually went higher than my ankles. But the thing was…that every time it grew, it became infested with turtles.”

He paused for a second.

“I really liked turtles.” He continued, shrugging. “My mother used to let me walk down to the water, as long as she was right behind me, obviously; one day, when we were coming back from the city, she stopped to attend a call. I got too impatient and went down alone when she wasn’t looking. The next thing I remember is that, just when I was getting up after catching a turtle, I felt her tugging me by the back of my shirt. The turtle fell on its shell.”

At that point, Max realized he had been staring at how he kept on fidgeting with his pen instead of looking him in the eye, but he continued doing so, because he didn’t like it when Adrian’s voice turned that serious.

“…She had never screamed at me like that.” He said, as if he were talking to himself and then, to erase the tension, he tried to scoff. “I don’t remember what she said, but I remember that she said it so loud I told her she was scaring the turtle. Then I started crying. Like, a lot. I think she was terrified too.”

In the end, everything turned too quiet for his liking, and Max did something his dad had advised him to do for times like these, when he just didn’t know what came next: Improvise.

“I didn’t know you liked turtles.”

“…Well, I did. I really liked turtles when I was younger.”

Max had seen a couple of turtles in his life, but not as many as Adrian had seen, he supposed, because Max had never stepped outside, except when he was a baby.

Which was exactly the point.

He didn’t have memories from when he was a baby, or a toddler. Most of the people who had come to talk to him had said they remembered events that were either too sad (like Adrian) or meaningful in their lives. Max didn’t have anything like that. In fact, his first –very blurry- memory was standing on the edge of the quarantine, with his hands pressed against the crystal, and then licking it.

According to his dads, he was between three and four (“He was three, Simon. What are you talking about?” “He was born in November.” “It wasn’t November yet.” “We had just celebrated his birthday. He was four.” “HE WASN’T FOUR, SIMON! HE WAS THREE! THREE! We were celebrating that his quarantine had just been built!” “IT WAS THE SAME EVENT, HUGH!”) and Aunt Tamaya, plus the both of them, were in the hallway. For some reason, the fact that his eyes were so huge (they were still big. But they were bigger when he was a baby) came off as odd to Tamaya. And the moment they made eye contact, he licked the glass.

Nobody knew why. Not even himself. The adults remembered it better than he did, of course, but none of them had ever been able to guess the reasoning behind it. They often expressed Max had been a very strange baby, mostly because of his lack of social skills. It’s not like he had chosen that, and it’s not like his fathers would’ve allowed it to happen if they had had any other option. But Max wasn’t willing to stand there and pretend that he knew what he was doing, either.

Most of the time, he didn’t.

He barely held any memories of the nurses that had ever been in charge of his care, but, for obvious reasons, he remembered Dad. It was always easier to remember the person who had taken care of you the most, he supposed. And Max knew, among a lot of things, that it wasn’t his other dad’s fault. Though, sometimes, he couldn’t help but blame him.

Again, he didn’t know why, but there were those days, when he needed he the most, where a voice inside of his head told him that, if Simon loved him enough, he would just sacrifice his powers to be with him. His powers weren’t that useful for combat anyway.

“Okay, but that’s kinda mean.” Adrian told him the first time he opened up about it, the night before he attended the Trials to choose the members of his patrolling team. “Pops might not have combat powers, but they’re as important as the rest of the members’. That’s why they work so well as a team, you know? Every power can be extremely helpful during a battle, as long as you know how to use it.”

Max wasn’t doing anything in particular that day. Nothing besides listening to Adrian and sitting on the floor , at least.

“But if every power is useful…” He said, tilting his head to the side. “…Why are you allowed to reject certain aspirants?”

Adrian frowned a little, not in the sense that he looked angry at Max. Rather, he was confused by the question and was trying to word the answer in a way that sounded rational.

“Because…” He gulped and clicked his tongue. “…Like I said…uhm…the Council is an extremely good team. They’ve been doing this for a while. Us, the patrolling leaders are…allowed to reject certain prodigies because we don’t have as much experience as them. And…we might not know how to use somebody’s powers, and that’s very dangerous. We don’t want people dying, do we?”

When he said that, something clicked inside Max’s brain, and he nodded in automatic. Obviously, a few years ago, a non-prodigy teacher had taught him how to read, and the moment Adrian notified him it was his year to be in the Trials, he managed to read the manual and the rules for the event, from a booklet and a pamphlet (respectively) he had asked his dad to bring for him. He didn’t get much new information, different from the one he heard on TV or the one presented in the posters. However, amongst the rules, there was a section that talked about banned powers, which contained only two categories:

-Complete telekinesis.

-Stardust modelling.

“Yeah.” Dad told him. He was bathing him in the quarantine’s bathroom (Of course. Where else?). “Stardust catchers…which….are able to model stardust, are extremely dangerous and there’s not much research about them. Nobody really knows how they work, and it would be pretty difficult for us to… handle a prodigy like that.”

“Like me.”

Dad had always had a pretty specific routine he had to follow when bathing him. If he missed or misplaced a step, he acted like would explode or something. Also, Max didn’t understand why, but ever since he started growing thicker hair, Dad became pretty strict on the fact they should take care of it so it would grow healthy. Hence why they had a full hair routine that they did in the bathtub. That day, the statement caught him so off-guard he grabbed the wrong bottle, and then, when he realized it, he was already pouring the dense liquid (that looked more like a paste to him) on Max’s head. Cursing under his breath, he placed his other hand in the middle so it would fall over his palm, washed Max’s head and started the routine all over again, before changing the subject:

“About complete telekinesis…there’s obviously a lot of research about that power. We know how to manage with that. But telekinetic prodigies are not …very accepted in our society. They’re pointed at…Frowned upon. In the worst of cases, other prodigies hunt them down and then kill them.”

In that moment, Max came to the conclusion that all that changing the subject thing had been in vain.

Because, from his part, the answer was exactly the same:

“Like me.”

And Dad didn’t like that, for he started scratching his scalp harder, accidentally.

“No. It’s nothing like you.” He said. “You’re not like that, Max. Society hates telekinesis because some evil dude decided to use his powers, his telekinesis, for awful reasons and stained prodigy’s names. You’re not like that. You’re not abusive, or selfish or evil. And I don’t want to hear you comparing yourself to him ever again. Understood?”

To this day, that was the most aggressive form of validation someone had ever given him, but Max took it anyway, because he trusted Dad, and if he had said something like that, then there had to be a clear reason behind it.

“Understood.” He whispered.

And he tried, he really tried, to believe it. But, like many other things, no matter how hard Max tried, he was still severely confused. Not that he didn’t know about the Age of Anarchy, or the parties involved in the Age of Anarchy.

The quarantine, needless to say, could get pretty boring most of the time. Max had to do a lot of things to kill time, and some of those activities involved reading books that children shouldn’t be reading. He did read some children’s books, but then he would find himself looking through history articles and books, and reading the chapters that interested him the most. For instance, he was confident he knew about the Age of Anarchy, but one thing was knowing about it, and another, different thing, was having an opinion about in regards to it.

Max didn’t know if he had something to say about the topic. If he did, it was a very incomplete idea, and it was very likely he wouldn’t be able to phrase it correctly.

The group of people Max talked the most to were adults, and those adults, especially the ones who had experienced the Age of Anarchy and somehow managed to make it out alive, refused to talk about it. As for the few children he had talked to…

Well, about them…

Long story short, they had lives.

They all had lives outside of a glass, unlike Max. Maybe they weren’t the most interesting of lives, but at least they for sure had to be more interesting than his’. They didn’t have a pre-established schedule, where a designated person would come in to feed him or extract blood samples from his body, to then take them to the laboratory. They didn’t have to hear a total of seven alarms to remind him what he had to do: Wake up and get dressed, have breakfast and brush his teeth, enter the virtual sessions with his teachers, take a shower, have his blood samples taken, start doing his homework –if he had any- and do whatever he wanted once he was finished, have dinner, brush his teeth and go to bed, and then start all over again.

That moment, when he had spare time, would be the same one normal kids used to go out with their friends, like Adrian did. To go to the park and get themselves a scarily huge wound at the center of their knee. To live. To breathe air. To do…literally anything that wasn’t this.

Because Max was different from the many children he hadn’t yet gotten the opportunity to meet or talk to, because, obviously, they wouldn’t want to spend the whole day hanging out with a person…like him.

The only way Max could see two out of the three people in his family was through a crystal wall. And he couldn’t kiss them, he couldn’t touch them… sometimes he even wondered if he knew how their voices sounded, because, after all, Dad’s voice sounded the tiniest bit different once he crossed that infamous glass door.

He couldn’t walk through the streets of Gatlon, because, for starters, he didn’t know them. And if he dared to go out there, he would get killed on spot for having accidentally neutralized a prodigy who didn’t want to be neutralized.

Other kids had nannies whom they complained about when their parents couldn’t look after them (at least that’s the kind of things he saw on the TV shows he watched) but Max had patrol units that would move from one corner of the room to another, ready to attack anyone who came closer than necessary to him, because the only one who could take care of him in person, was Hugh.

Other kids could go out freely, without being scared of anything at all. They could get hurt while having fun with their friends and family. They could laugh until they cried with them. They could hug them, sleep in the same bed as them. They could walk their pets, go on road trips, go to amusement stores, water parks…

They could experience the current world; watch all the new events that were happening every day, in first hand.

They didn’t have to read about the past, or the people from the past to keep themselves entertained. They didn’t have the need to do that. At all.

They were living the lives Max couldn’t have, because he was too dangerous for that.

And obviously, that’s why he couldn’t just…go around asking other kids about what was their favorite bug, their favorite planet…or their opinions about Ace Anarchy, and if Pops (Simon) saying “Alec, with an A as in Abusive Swine” made them laugh.

Besides, he hadn’t even met that many kids his age. Or kids, for that matter.

He was aware Adrian wasn’t exactly a grown up, but he wasn’t a kid either, so, he usually didn’t make it into that list.

In fact, just like the banned powers in that manual, there were only two kids in Max’s list of acquaintances.

Aunt Tamaya’s first baby was born without powers, when Max was like four years old, and his dads were way too excited about it (Weird thing to brag about out loud, honestly, because all the recruits in the Headquarters were betting ridiculous amounts of money on which powers the Thunderbaby would have –Max could hear them- and one day they just heard The Dread Warden storming into the hallway, euphorically screaming “GUESS WHAT, MY LITTLE CHERUB BABY? YOUR COUSIN IS ABSOLUTELY FREAKING POWERLESS!”), for they thought Max would finally be able to have a friend who was more or less his age. Dad was the one who brought him in, two weeks after he was born. He was still tiny, red and chubby, and wrapped in his three different blankets that way, he looked like a bloated marshmallow.

Aunt Tamaya, her husband, Pops, Adrian, Aunt Kasumi and Uncle Evander were outside (as always) waiting to see what happened…and, it was extremely odd for Max to admit it, but he couldn’t remember much about that moment, even though he was already older than three. There was, however, a video taken by Uncle Evander where, if you narrowed your eyes hard enough, you could see the moment Max burst into tears right after kissing the baby’s cheek.

Neil was his friend.

At least, Max considered him to be his friend. Still, they had an age gap of four whole years, and a part of him was waiting until he was a little older so they could be on the same page. Because sometimes, when Neil couldn’t comprehend something semi-important that Max had just said, things could get pretty awkward, because there were occasions when, if Neil got too frustrated over anything, he would start crying, and his sobs often summoned his mother all the way from across the building. She never particularly tried to put the blame on Max. In fact, she hadn’t even glared at him not once, ever.

But she did choose to take him with her, into her office, or ask Adrian to babysit him while he calmed down. Afterwards, he usually didn’t come back to the quarantine.

“It’s not your fault, Max.” Pops would tell him, always. “It’s just that…Neil...he’s younger than you. There are things that might be…easy to you, but that are super complicated to him. And you might be able to do things that he can’t, and he can’t understand why he can’t, so he gets super confused and angry and that’s why he cries and Tamaya has to come and comfort him.”

“That, and because she’s like a...very freaky bird mom who hears her children cry and comes around with her super sonic enhanced sense of hea—“

“Hugh, don’t be rude.”

Every time they had that discussion in front of him, Max could never understand why Pops said Dad was being rude. He was right, to a certain extent. Aunt Tamaya was just…being a mom.

And that’s what moms did.

At least, that’s what Max had read and seen on TV because families like his’ were…super rare to find in his cartoons or favorite books. In fact, the times when he had seen himself represented in any of the things were so few that, for the longest time, Max had this weird, messed up idea that biological men could give birth. He thought that Adrian, apart from the fact that he was the closest to him, looked more similar to Simon, and that had to mean he had given birth to him, while Hugh had been the one to give birth to Max.

One year, when Max was six, they finished Lady Indomitable’s gigantic golden statue, placed downtown. It was late June, and though the city had previously looked covered in colors, that day it just looked…white and golden. That’s the best way Max could find to put it into words.

According to Max’s weather application, the heat was unbearable that day (good thing he couldn’t feel anything because the temperature in the quarantine was always regulated) yet, according to what he was seeing in one of his screens, a great percentage of the citizens of Gatlon were marching in the streets carrying floating lanterns, headed towards downtown where the event was being held.

The Council was standing in front of the covered statue. All of them except Blacklight, who had stayed to take care of the Headquarters, and Max could see him from where he was. They gave a speech about Lady Indomitable together, and as they started revealing the statue, Tsunami sang a song that was supposed to be one of Lady Indomitable’s favorite ones, and that Max was too young to recognize (he supposed). In his opinion, it was a cute event, but he would be lying if he said he wasn’t utterly confused the moment he saw Adrian taking one step ahead to be the first one to let go of his floating lantern, which was different from the other ones, because his’ was bigger, and it had a big “I”. Besides, people waited a couple of seconds until it was stable above their heads to let go of their own floating lanterns.

It still looked cute to him, but now it looked weird as well. So he got up from his chair, and walked towards the edge, pressing his hands against the glass. He hoped that would be enough to magically catch Evander’s attention, who was, at the moment, using his chair as a swing, as he typed a number in his computer, copying it from his calculator and eating from his salad every now and then. Obviously, Max’s telepathic call wasn’t enough, and he had to knock on the glass a couple of times, loudly. Even then, Uncle Evander didn’t look up in his direction.

But he did hear him, because he did respond.

“It’s not gonna work, Maximus. I’m not getting you out.”

As a side note, Max considered telling him his full name was Maximilian and not Maximus, because that was way before he realized it was a nickname. Nevertheless, he just let it pass, for the simple reason he had better things to ask. That’s why he proceeded to knock again, instead of speaking.

“What is it?”

“I wanna ask you something.”

Evander tried to steady himself in the chair without falling on his back, and once he succeeded, he came closer to the quarantine, with his arms over his hips.

“Why is Adrian doing that?” He asked, just because he wasn’t able to find another way to phrase it, while pointing at the screen behind him; Evander narrowed his eyes following his finger, as if he hadn’t been watching the event himself from a livestream on his phone. A few seconds later, he seemed to realize what he was talking about, and bit his upper lip, before pouting barely a little.

Then, he clicked his tongue.

“Because that’s his mom. And today’s her birthday.”

And it’s not that Max was insensitive enough not to recognize that it was very sad, but at the same time those single words were enough to make the idea he had of his life fall apart. All the things he thought he had already managed to understand felt fake and incorrect, and it was so fast it almost made him feel dizzy.

“She’s not his mom.” He declared.

Evander opened his eyes very widely and, next thing he knew, was that, for some reason, he looked nervous. Which, to say the least, was very…unlike Evander. He was usually super…confident, and, in Dad’s words: “He walks with his back too straight for a person who says some dumb shit every time he opens his mouth”.

At that moment, his back wasn’t straight at all, and he kept on wiping the sweat off his palms in the suit.

“…I mean…she’s not…alive anymore. But… that doesn’t mean that…”

“Noooo. I didn’t mean that.” Max cut him off. “She’s not her mom, because Adrian already has a mom.”

He stopped suddenly. Max could almost see his brain working at full speed, trying to process the data he had just received. Then, he blinked, arching his eyebrow.

“Who’s…who’s his mom?” He asked, getting closer to the crystal, and crouching down to be at Max’s height (Evander was almost too tall for his own sake). “Do Simon or Hugh…?”

“No. I mean she’s not his mom because Simon’s his mom.” Max stated, confident enough to move a mountain with his raw determination and his bare hands, which, needless to say, did nothing but make Evander even more confused.

Not that Max couldn’t understand why.

He was a brand new, redeemed person now.

But back then he wasn’t.

“…Simon is what, you said?”

“Adrian’s mom.” Max reaffirmed.

Still bewildered, Evander gawked. Perhaps he understood where that confusion was coming from but, at the same time, maybe he was too disturbed to ask for additional information. Max didn’t know which one of the two would make him feel more embarrassed, especially taking into account the next thing Evander said:

“That is the weirdest shit somebody has ever said to me, and I’ve talked to the Puppeteer an unhealthy amount of times.”

He wasn’t the one who explained to him the way his own family worked. On the contrary, he immediately told his dads about it, and next time the both of them came to talk to him, they tried to make him understand the concept of homosexual couples.

And they failed.

Miserably.

And he was using that term, because after that talk, Max went through life for a while saying that his ethnicity was Gay, because both of his dads were gay. Over and over again, they tried to correct him, but nothing seemed to work, and Max kept on spreading the information that he was gay (something he didn’t know yet) until Aunt Kasumi decided to intervene and, for his birthday, she got him a children’s book called All in Rainbow, which, according to the information in the first page, was actually a translation from a Latin American book written by two lesbians (one of them non-binary) and illustrated by the same woman who had made the Anarchists’ and the Renegades’ graphic novels and was also a Latina.

That book was something similar to a gay encyclopedia. It was narrated by this girl named Phoenix, because it followed her throughout her school and her daily life, where she came across different people and families. After every short story, there was an informative section explaining everything in regards to the new person’s identity, including their flag, the meaning of said flag, and the explanation of certain terms. Max really enjoyed it, and, in fact, he ended up going through it more than once. When he tried to persuade Adrian into reading it too, he admitted he already had, when he was younger, and proceeded to make a comment about how pretty the name “Phoenix” was.

It was only then that Max was able to understand how his own family worked, and how freaking inept he had sounded when he decided it was a great idea to use it as an ethnicity.

That book was, in fact, the cue for all the grown ups in his life to start buying books for him, which he was grateful for, except for the one that he, ironically enough, had gotten from Uncle Evander. Sure, he appreciated that he had spent money on that, but Max didn’t appreciate the fact that the plot was about a dog that was sent away to a school for dogs but made everyone believe he was in jail so he could escape. The drawings were cute, but he just couldn’t find the moral of the story and he didn’t like that.

His dads, from their part, got him a book about two frogs that, at least to Max, acted as if they were a couple; Aunt Tamaya was the one of the short books without drawings.

As for Aunt Kasumi…she usually brought a lot of educational books; every time she overheard him expressing something that was making him confused, she brought him a book about it, including that time she heard him asking Ruby Tucker “So, are you always bleeding?” completely out of context.

Max supposed that it had a lot to do with the fact that Aunt Kasumi was in charge of Child Services, and she spent a lot of time with children, especially because she liked to volunteer in orphanages, having been in one herself when she was a little girl. She usually moved in prodigy orphanages, for she was one to know the poor conditions they sometimes presented.

And…to say the least, she wasn’t a woman of many words. She was very reserved with everything she did. And, besides, it was none of Max’s business. After all, he was just a kid.

But, in this case, it kind of involved him.

Kind of.

For the simple reason that there were two names in the list of people his age Max had talked to. The first one was Neil (who wasn’t even his age. He was just close to that) and the second one…

The second one involved Aunt Kasumi.

Just like people were able to overhear his conversations through the quarantine, Max was able to overhear the conversations they were having on the outside, especially when he was trying to do it on purpose.

Every time he was too bored, in other words.

Some of the things older people said were confusing, but, over time, Max had learned to store that information, so he could comprehend it better in the future. He didn’t know at what level that was healthy, yet he still did it because, literally, he didn’t have anything better to do.

During extremely busy days, the Council chose to spend the night in the Headquarters, just in case, and while they could sleep in the common room, if Pops was too insistent on wanting to be close to the quarantine, they slept in the hallway.

In Max’s hallway.

Of course, Dad would sleep with him inside the quarantine but, in order to make it feel more like a pajama party, they slept close to the edge of the “room” (if it could be called that way), so close to the Councils’ inflatable beds, they could’ve touched them if there hadn’t been a wall in between.

When they were sleeping in that hallway, there wasn’t a patrol looking over Max, because they were the patrol and, every two hours, they changed turns to stay awake. All of them except Dad, who stayed the entire night with Max. The others often got up and started walking around the quarantine according to their ages. That is, Aunt Tamaya went first, followed by Pops, then Aunt Kasumi, and Uncle Evander at the end. However, since it wasn’t like they were too used to having many hours of sleep, Kasumi and Evander usually got up at the same time and patrolled together.

That night, Max was having trouble sleeping. Dad was hugging him, which made him feel very comfortable, but, at the same time, before he wrapped his arms around him, he had been moving way too much, and that had made Max feel uneasy, because a part of him, though he knew it was highly possible it wasn’t true, was feeding the annoying worm at the back of his brain that told him he was the one making Dad uneasy. That Dad was moving and couldn’t sleep because he didn’t want to be anywhere near him. Perhaps he would’ve preferred to be with Pops. Perhaps he would’ve preferred to be with Adrian, even. Anyone but Max.

Which, again, he knew things…weren’t like that. But that little, nameless, uninvited worm was always telling him that, over and over again, determined to repeat those awful words until they made so much noise they made him cry.

And even then, when he was already crying, the worm ate deeper into his brain and told him to stop because, in the end, who was he crying for anyway?

Who was he crying for, if nobody was here to see or hear him?

That night, of course, he didn’t cry, for the simple reason that…well, he did have somebody who would hear him cry, and maybe comfort him like Aunt Tamaya comforted Neil when he was crying…

But he didn’t want Dad to do that.

Not today.

Not because he were mad at him, but because he feared that, if he did, then Dad would be the one who would get mad.

Besides, that night he got extremely busy trying to overhear the conversation between Kasumi and Evander who, the moment they got up, started talking as they walked, first at a volume so low their voices could’ve been considered murmurs, but then, with every second, the issue started escalating.

And it wasn’t that they were arguing, it was that they weren’t exactly happy with each other, nor did they seem to manage to get to a mutual agreement.

Max felt like that time he was watching a movie with his earphones on, and instead of paying attention to the plot, he kept trying to identify which sounds were dominant in his left ear, and which ones were dominant in his right ear, because Uncle Evander and Aunt Kasumi were walking around the quarantine, and the echoes of their voices were floating right behind them, making it almost impossible for Max to decipher their messages word by word.

At least, until they stopped in front of him. That is, very close to the inflatable mattresses, too. And with just one eye open, he was able to tell Aunt Kasumi wasn’t amused, with her arms so tight across her chest that way, and with Uncle Evander standing more straight than necessary (because, yes, Dad was right about that...sometimes... because Max had read somewhere that tall people had to be really careful with their posture to avoid spine deformities or have less complications when they were older) waving his –as Aunt Tamaya would’ve called them- Hot Cheeto fingers right in front of her face, in a way so aggressive she sometimes had to lean backwards not to get one of her eyes poked out.

“…and it won’t look good for the organization. It won’t look good, Kasumi. You know why?”

“Yes, Vandy. I know why. I already knew before, yet you took the time to explain it to me another seven times. I mean, thank you, I guess, but—“

“If I kept on explaining it to you, it’s because I didn’t…and I don’t know what’s not clicking.”

“What do you mean with what’s not clicking?” And she tilted her head to the side. “…Are you still talking to me?”

“Don’t play dumb, Kasumi. Especially not in front of me, because I know you.”

“Right. But I still don’t get what you’re referring to. What’s not clicking about what, exactly?”

Evander laughed in a way Max would’ve just…understood if she had decided to punch him in the face so he would stop.

“We’re a big organization, Kasumi. People talk.”

“Of course that people talk. I mean, our citizens support our cause and our government system. In fact, statistically, more than half of the population do, but sometimes there are things that… are for their own good but they will refuse to understand and accept them anyway. And that’s normal. We might be the law, but we can’t control how the masses think, you know?”

“For their own good, you say. Beneficial.”

“Exactly.”

“Beneficial for who, if you’d be so kind?” Evander laughed again. “As far as I understand, we’re talking about one single problem, from a single person. It won’t bring anything beneficial, as you call it, for our organization, or for our system…if anything, it will damage it and make us lose credibility.”

“…Why?”

As a response, he started flapping his arms around, as if he were trying to point at something invisible. Or at something that wasn’t really there.

And this time, Aunt Kasumi didn’t try to pretend she was seeing it, and remained silent until Evander realized he would have to make himself understood.

“Because…” He clenched his fists, sighing loudly, almost like he was certain he was right and Aunt Kasumi wasn’t. “Our policy. Remember that? You know, a thing that actually exists and you helped write?”

She didn’t respond.

“Our policy as Renegades, it’s that we shall keep our people safe, and that includes prodigy and non-prodigy citizens. We shall preserve their lives no matter the cost, and create a safe environment where all can coexist and protect each other. That means that no prodigy individual with questionable reasons is to be allowed to cross that gate and disturb the peace or, worse, put somebody’s life at risk.”

“I’m aware of that.”

“Yes, you should be, because we wrote it, for fuck’s sake.”

“Evander, please. There’s no need to curse or—“

“…But you know what that means? It means that we can’t just…go against that policy and expect our citizens, our recruits, even, to still take us seriously.”

“Oh, but I’m following that policy because, as you might remember, we also pledged to assist anyone whose life was at risk, and people who, day by day, have to live under very vulnerable circumstances. It is our job to intervene and take them to a safer place, where their quality of life can improve, isn’t it?”

“It is, but that applies for people who aren’t dangerous to society.”

At that point, Max had both his eyes open, and he was seeing the scene more clearly.

In fact, everything was so clear, that he was able to read the confusion in Aunt Kasumi’s expression, even before she said:

“…This is a kid we’re talking about.”

“She is dangerous.”

“She’s not dangerous, Evander. She's a kid. Sure, her behavior has caused her to go bouncing from orphanage to orphanage like a rubber ball but that doesn’t mean she shouldn’t be helped, that doesn’t mean we should just turn our backs at her, and that doesn’t mean she’s dangerous.”

“You know damn well her behavior’s not what I’m talking about.”

“Well, I am, because that’s the only thing that should concern us at the moment.”

“No, it’s not?”

“It is. Because she’s a kid…and, honestly, Vandy…” Aunt Kasumi sighed. “… I know we were raised thinking life is war, but… the truth is, people are not born evil. Or dangerous, for that matter. Take your time and think about it, and you can talk to me again once you’ve calmed down, because you must be pretty much aware I don't appreciate this tone. Besides, it’s not like this little argument is going to stop me anyway.” She shrugged.

“…after all, I already talked to Hugh.”

“…And what did he say?”

“It’s not my place to tell you that. Ask him.”

Max never knew whether he had taken that suggestion or not but, knowing Evander, he just assumed he hadn’t. And, to be honest, he never asked Dad about it either. He just stood and watched how everything proceeded to go down and chaos unleashed.

Though, he had to admit, unlike what had happened with other “big” events, this one specific chaos was rather discrete. A kind of well-kept secret.

In fact, the only explicit hint that something would happen in the next few days, was the little disturbance caused by Team Frostbite (it was always Team Frostbite. Max had no idea why everyone was so…willing to put up with their…issues so much, and without hesitation) when it was their turn to patrol around the quarantine and Evander came around, holding his notepad, and muttered something to them.

“Whom?!” Genissa Clark, Frostbite, snapped immediately.

Evander frowned and, judging by the way his moustache moved, he also pouted, before turning at Mack Baxter, Aftershock, to start talking to him instead.

“Do you have any idea of what she’s talking about?” He clicked his tongue. “Like…okay, nevermind…”

When Max looked up, he saw the exact moment when Evander realized he was listening to the conversation, so he lowered his tone once again. Yet, Max was still able to see the million ways in which Genissa Clark's face contorted and, in the end, the first second Evander shut his mouth, she declared:

“We’re not available for that. Perhaps that task should be assigned to Team Sketch or Team Peregrine. They’re always lollygagging around, it’s about time they get some real responsibi—“

“That’s a no, then. Alright. Thanks for your cooperation, Team Frostbite. Or, lack of, more likely. Do better next time, okay?”

If Max wanted to be honest with himself, it hadn’t taken him much time to realize he wasn’t fond of any of the members in Team Frostbite. Or Frostbite herself. In fact, he considered her to be almost insufferable, and, again, he couldn’t quite understand why they were allowed to boss everybody around. To a certain extent, they reminded him of the popular kids (who were also bullies) in every movie he had ever watched. They weren’t nice. Not even likeable.

Maybe Max was just very specific on the type of people he liked.

Or maybe he liked everyone and their mom, except Team Frostbite, because he didn’t know any better than that, while at the same time he knew better than liking Team Frostbite.

But he didn’t know better than liking Margaret White, because…well…

She hadn’t done anything particularly awful for him to have an opinion as strong as Uncle Evander’s about her.

She came on a Friday.

Not that she exclusively came to talk to him.

She, in fact, arrived alongside Aunt Kasumi, who was wearing her civilian clothes –High-waisted jeans and a baby blue shirt, damp with sweat because it was hot outside- and kept leaving her car key on every table that came across her, before coming back to it to grab them.

At first, Max wasn’t able to see Margaret very well, mostly because he was distracted with his online classes, and she was taken straight to Dad’s office, along with Adrian’s entire team. And though Max didn’t see much, he was able to catch a glimpse on how Adrian kept on trying to grab her hand, and she insisted on pulling away.

At some point, he had read about that too.

The Renegades accepted recruits from ages 14 and up, talking about patrolling. However, they had a child protection program, where, basically, they assisted orphan prodigy children with behavioral issues or, though only few people liked to admit it, potential to be a part of the organization when they were older. Adrian didn’t like it and, strangely enough, out of everyone, Evander didn’t like it either. Nevertheless, Evander was one to get more aggressive when it came to child recruitment, which, thankfully, wasn’t common at all.

In fact, those cases were so rare, that they referred to them as “exceptions”. After all, children were not allowed into the Trials. As far as Max knew, they weren’t placed in patrol units. On the contrary, they were given small positions in the organization, and their paychecks were directed to their respective savings account, something that Pops was in charge of. However, they could use that money for their personal needs or something they wanted to buy, as the few children recruits resided in orphanages around Gatlon and went back there after their shift was over. Max supposed that sometimes their caretakers refused to buy them something because it wasn’t good for their health and it must be very satisfying to tell them it was their money (That’s what Adrian always did when Dad refused to buy something for him).

(That, or he went and asked Pops for that same thing).

Usually, they could have cash withdrawals just by presenting their Renegade Recruit ID because, obviously, they didn’t have an official ID yet.

And not only that. The children recruits were assigned a patrol unit with older members to look after them, or help them with anything they needed. Taking into account the conversation he had overheard, he supposed that duty had fallen on Adrian’s team (A theory that was later confirmed to be true by Adrian himself).

They were never left unsupervised, just like Max.

The day Margaret arrived, for a couple of minutes, maybe hours, Max was submerged in his own little world, and in the assignment his last teacher had told him to do. It was just him, his colored pencils, his paper sheets, his notes, his head, his hands, and the miniature planet Earth that his quarantine supposed, against the real world that he had never stepped on.

But every now and then, a little piece of the unknown, mysterious real world came running to his encounter and talked to him, sometimes in the most sudden, unsolicited way.

Sometimes it was Dad opening the door without calling. Sometimes it was Adrian pressing a new drawing against the crystal. Sometimes it was Pops, making a little “Psst” sound to get his attention.

Sometimes it was three little knocks, and the girl that was producing them with her knuckles.

Back then, Margaret’s hair was longer, to the point where she could tie it in a high ponytail, decorated with a blue bow, which combined with his orphanage uniform: A white polo, with the institution’s symbol by the right side of her chest, beneath a cobalt blue skirt with suspenders, long white socks and black scholar shoes.

He saw her and recognized she was real the first time, but Max still gave himself a couple of seconds to grasp the fact that she was really there.

Well, not there-there.

That she was there, as in, through the glass.

And she was calling him, even if she wasn’t saying anything. In fact, she was just there, eating from a chocolate bar with puffed rice. Her free hand was still over the glass.

And she was waiting.

So, he figured he didn’t want to keep her waiting anymore, and leaving his task and his tools behind, Max walked in her direction. And like it always happened, he stopped right before bumping his forehead against the hard, translucent surface.

Margaret took another bite from her chocolate, with an arched eyebrow, but she said nothing. From afar, Max hadn’t been able to really appreciate her features, but now that he was closer, he realized she was taller than him; her small, brown eyes were making her lashes look bigger; her black hair looked thicker and he was able to conclude that her skin tone was more or less like Pops’, maybe a little darker. She had a mark over her cheek, and at first Max thought it was a mole or a birthmark…until, of course, he realized that moles weren’t (or, at least, shouldn’t be) purple, and realized it was a bruise.

He didn’t ask her about it. Adrian had once told him that there were people who might not want to talk about their bruises or open wounds, not because the stories behind them were painful to tell, but because they were too embarrassing and telling embarrassing stories was an inconvenience.

“…well… now that I think about it…” He said right after. “…That’s not it. No. Not really. Sometimes your wounds’ backstories are painful. Or sometimes…you just want to keep them a secret, you know? And secrets are…sort of important.”

He believed every word.

Hence why, instead of saying something too nosy about that bruise, a little slowly at first, Max started lifting his hand up, until he reached the spot where Margaret’s was, and pressed his palm there. When she stared at his palm in confusion, Max clarified:

“Hugh five. You know?" Max giggled a little." As in… the Captain? Hugh? ...No?"

She didn’t laugh. And that was odd because Adrian would’ve.

Margaret wasn’t Adrian, sadly. And, it seemed to be, she hadn’t had an older sibling to tell her that some things just…weren’t adequate as icebreakers to start a conversation. Because, like Adrian had said, there were certain things other people might not want to talk about.

“Are you sick?” She directly asked.

Max was still “pressing” his hand against hers.

Gulping hard, he felt his throat boiling hot, almost as if it were growing blisters.

“No.” He said in a hoarse voice. “Why?”

Not pulling away either, Margaret said:

“The other day, Sister Malinda brought a very tiny baby into the orphanage. They were so small they had to take them to the medical wing.” She took another bite from her chocolate, and kept on speaking with her mouth full. “I sneaked out of my room to see them, and they were inside this little glass box that helped keeping them alive. Sister Tam told me so.”

Max kept quiet for a while. He would’ve been lying if he said he didn’t have a little curiosity about the name, but Margaret solved everything that had to be solved even if he didn’t ask her to.

“Sister Tam was named after Thunderbird. She’s younger than the other nuns.”

He guessed so.

Aunt Tamaya’s real name had been revealed to the general public on the 13th year into the Age of Anarchy, when she reappeared after being away for months thanks to an accident that involved Queen Bee and a cliff or something like that (Max couldn’t quite understand it, and Aunt Tamaya couldn’t remember much about it either. If she did, then she just didn’t desire to talk about it). It wasn’t a fun anecdote or anything like that but, according to his dads, the name Tamaya topped the lists for the most female-assigned names for at least a year, and the same thing happened in the 20th year into the Age of Anarchy...however, by the time she was buried, the world didn’t know Lady Indomitable’s real name, and for an entire month, people used Regina instead of Georgia. When Max asked why, Dad answered that, when attending public events, Lady Indomitable used to wear a pair of shiny golden R-shaped earrings that caused everybody in Gatlon to develop mass hysteria and made themselves believe that those Rs meant Regina, when in reality, according to Lady Indomitable herself, one of them meant “Rawles”, and the other “Renegade”. In fact, Oscar Silva (Smokescreen, one of the members of Adrian’s team) had once said that one of his cousins, who lived in Mexico, had been named Renata Regina (Though nobody knew what the heck that first name was, and Oscar had a really peculiar way to pronounce Regina) because she was born a few days after Lady Indomitable’s decease.

“I knew that.” Max lied.

“Sure, buddy. I bet you did.” Margaret chuckled. And there, Max realized she thought she was too clever.

Which, he didn’t doubt she was. He wasn’t in the position to state that. At least, not yet.

But what he was in the position to state, was that, if she thought herself to be clever, then it was his opportunity to think of himself as clever too. After all, he had been reading his whole life because he didn’t have anything else to do.

If Margaret was clever, then so was he.

“You’re talking about an incubator.” He said.

Margaret looked up out of a sudden (Max hoped she hadn’t gotten dizzy). He could still see the chocolate, that at this point should’ve been mush, stored in the inside of her right cheek.

“Uh?” She asked, struggling to keep her mouth closed.

Max gulped, and tapped the surface with his fingers.

“The thing where they put the little baby. It’s called an incubator. That’s where they put pre-term babies, because they’re not ready to survive outside of their mother’s womb. Sometimes their lungs don’t work on their own, sometimes their hearts are too fast or too slow…”

“You look too old to be a baby.” She observed. “Are your powers something related to that? Like, are you a baby who doesn’t look like a baby?”

For a second, Max thought about quoting Evander that time he had boldly stated that Simon was Adrian’s mom, but he didn’t because he wasn’t in the mood to curse.

“…No. First, this is not an incubator. And second, I’m a kid.” He answered. “I’m not a baby.”

“Then why are you here?”

The short answer was that, honestly, that was none of her business. And the even shorter answer, was:

“I can’t tell you. It’s a secret. And secrets are sort of important.”

“A secret.” She repeated, as if tasting the word. “…You don’t look like you want to be here. Are you allowed to come out?”

The short answer was still that it was none of her business. But, if he wanted to be honest, for some reason, he didn’t want to give that answer. Because, to be fair, she would find out on her own sooner or later. Because, yes, people talked, and while his dads were kind of secretive about him, everyone in the headquarters knew him. Her being clueless was just a temporary event that would vanish into thin air in a blink.

And, for some reason, he wanted to enjoy it while it lasted.

Maybe tell her something that wasn’t real. Maybe… tell her something that wasn’t necessarily true but that he wanted it to be. Maybe something that was more interesting than what he was, in reality; maybe something that would make the worm in his brain go away for two weeks.

"I can't get out." He finally decided. "Because this glass is infrangible."

Then, he knocked on it three times.

"See?"

Margaret tilted her hair to the side, looking like a cat.

"What does that word mean?"

And dumb as it sounded, Max felt a twinge in his stomach along with a violent wave of pride. Because, even if it was hard for him to admit it, he was hoping she would ask that.

He wanted her to ask that.

"It means you can't break it."

Margaret's eyes seemed bigger. But just as she was separating her lips to speak, somebody behind her cleared their throat.

That's when Max spotted Aunt Kasumi leaned against a wall with her arms crossed. When Margaret looked over her shoulder, she found her there too. But while Max waved at her, Margaret remained inexpressive.

"You're very far from the restroom, Maggie." Kasumi said, in a serious tone. Afterwards, she massaged her temples.

"Please, darling. Just… help me here, okay? We have to go back to the office."

And she didn't seem mad, but rather disappointed.

When it came to Aunt Kasumi, that was enough. Max knew that, and Margaret knew that too. That's why they both removed their hands from the glass, and Margaret started going away.

However, before she was too far, Max asked:

"Why are you here?"

And Margaret turned around, smiling.

"If you're not telling me, I'm not telling you." She sentenced. Then, she proceeded to imitate his voice as she said:

"It's a secret."

And for a while, obviously, it remained that way. A secret. But it wasn't long before they both knew everything they needed to know.

Margaret was integrated into the janitorial team, but, for a while, people talked about her and her powers, and Max couldn’t help but remember what Dad had told him in the bathtub, and the conversation between Evander and Kasumi.

Yet, more than scared, Max felt… something he didn't know what it was. In fact, he wasn't scared of her. More likely, a part of him felt that he knew what it was like to be her, because maybe they weren't that different after all.

People were scared of them both.

But he wasn't scared of her. No, not really.

He hoped she wasn’t scared of him either.

Maybe they could've been very good friends, even through the infrangible glass that kept him from getting pointed at, frowned upon or killed.

#renegades trilogy #marissa meyer #Dawnie writes #renegades ship week #margaret white #magpie #max everthart-westwood #the bandit

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folkloreguk · 3 years

Text

Punch Confessions🎄

A/N: Happy December! I didn’t do an advent calendar this year but I thought you should at least have one Christmas themed thing...and maybe I also really wanted to write something that’ll get me into the spirit...

genre: optional bias (male) x reader, fluff

words: ~ 2k

If I leave now, I’ll be there like twenty minutes early, you told yourself. But if you sat around any longer, waiting, you were sure to go crazy. Your stomach was flipping, and you had the desire to check your appearance in the mirror for what felt like the 100th time within the last ten minutes. There was really no need for you to be this nervous. You were going to get on the bus, arrive at the Christmas market, find your friends, hug them hello and have a great time. Had it not been for the godforsaken crush you had developed on one of those friends. Now you couldn’t go anywhere you knew you’d see him without feeling like having a heart attack. And, worst of all, you didn’t even think he felt the same about you. In fact, you had been trying vigorously to distract yourself, asking the web how to undo a crush and even stalking your ex on social media, convincing yourself that another relationship like your previous one was the last thing you could wish for. And yet you wanted him. He was on your mind from the moment you woke up to the time you closed your eyes at night. Sometimes, when it was especially bad, he followed you into your dreams. You’d hear the melody of his laughter, see the way his eyes change shape when he smiled and every time you awoke, you were alone in your bed, longing for something you thought would never be yours.

So now, when you finally caught the bus, you put in your earphones. You found your Christmas playlist and emerged in a world of bells and whistle notes, hopefully distracting you enough to make it to the Christmas market without having a nervous breakdown.

His back was the first thing you saw when you stepped out of the bus in front of the market. And to your dismay, he was the first one there. For some reason he had arrived even earlier than you had. You called his name and he spun around with a million-dollar smile on his face. Oh god. Mentally you prepared yourself to go to war against the butterflies raging in your stomach. He gave you a hug and the way his scent lingered in your nose for a moment only made your longing a million times worse.

“How have you been?” he asked. You were glad he was so good at making conversation. While you told him about your previous week, you realized exactly how he had taken your heart by storm. Although you had felt flustered at first, talking to him was the easiest thing in the world. It was the way he made you laugh without having to try, and how he didn’t just hear what you told him – he listened. He found interest in every part of your life, always wanting to know more and remembering the littlest things that seemed like nothingness to you. So, while originally you had wished your friends would be here as quickly as possible, with every second you spent alone around him you were more okay if they would be later to the meeting than discussed.

But eventually they arrived too, and as much as you had wished to be alone with him, you had missed your friends dearly. You caught up with each other’s lives quickly, while you strolled around the market and checked the little booths for potential Christmas gifts for your loved ones. It was a whirlwind of admiring little figurines, smelling scented candles and singing along to the cheesy songs playing over the speakers at every corner.

When you had seen everything, you found yourself at one of the booths selling punch and other hot drinks. While you laughed at your friends’ funny story, you were drinking, perhaps getting a little tipsy. A small fire was burning in the middle of the round wooden table, meant to keep the people standing there warm, but it wasn’t doing much for your freezing cold hands.

Instead of holding them towards the flame, you opted for rubbing them against each other, trying to create some warmth in your too thin gloves. That’s when you noticed him looking over at you. At first, he grinned at your behavior, but then he reached across the table.

“Here, this will keep your warm,” he said. Gently, he took your hands and put them around his mug, which he had just gotten refilled. To say your heart skipped a beat didn’t even sound like an exaggeration to you anymore. He kept his hands on yours, watching for your reaction. And he was right, it really did do wonders for your cold skin. Not knowing what to do with yourself, you smiled thankfully at him. He smiled back at you and your stomach dropped and flipped at the same time. There was really no denying how completely and utterly in love you were with him.

And then the all too familiar feeing set in. The doubts and worries about how he felt about you. He had always been a rather touchy person, so it wasn’t like you could take his sudden advances as anything but normal behavior. He was single, you knew that. But what if one day he broke news to you? What if he told you he had found somebody he wanted to be with? Someone who would always look out for him, and someone he would count all the sky’s stars for? And what if that someone wasn’t you? Although that wasn’t reality, the mere idea made you want to cry.

Your friend had encouraged you to take your chances. Just tell him, she would always say. But how did she not realize? With the chance of having your love reciprocated also came the horrible dread of having your fragile heart broken by the one you loved most in the world – and it wouldn’t even be his fault. It would mess up your entire friendship, and you weren’t ready to take that chance.

“I think I’ll hit the trail soon,” one of your friends announced, pulling you out of your train of thoughts.

“Yeah, me too, it’s getting quite cold,” the other one said. “We should definitely do this again soon!”

You could only agree. Especially if it would involve seeing H/N. Speaking of…he was smiling at you again and it was making your cheeks heat up even in this cold.

“Can I bring you home? It’s dark and you had some drinks,” he said. “We can’t have some creeps trying to talk to you. Not when you look this pretty. The taxi ride from your place will be cheaper than if I take one from here, anyway.”

You thought you were dreaming. Did he just call you pretty? But then you watched his eyes and his goofy smile, and you realized. He was drunk - a lot more drunk than you were - and it was bringing out his flirty side. It wasn’t you who made him compliment you, it was the alcohol. You had seen it before on him. He liked complimenting anyone, boys as much as girls, when he was drunk. Your heart sank at the realization.

“Okay. Thank you,” you said, nonetheless. After all, you wouldn’t reject the opportunity to be alone with him. The bus ride home was quiet, except for the usual small talk shared between good friends. When he softly touched your hand, it should have made you happy. Instead, you only felt an emptiness, knowing he would have probably done the same to your other girl friend, had he brought her home instead.

When you walked up to your front porch, you couldn’t wait to get inside. Just before you put your keys into the lock, he said your name. You spun around, and he was standing so much closer than you had anticipated. His eyes were sparkling, your Christmas lights around your door reflecting in them. One of his hands came to touch your cheek, and your heartbeat had never quickened so fast.

“Can I kiss you?” he asked. YES, your heart shouted. NO, your head said. He’s just drunk, not in love with you. So you had to make a decision you prayed you wouldn’t have to regret.

“H/N, you’re drunk. If you still want to kiss me tomorrow when you’re sober, I promise I will say yes. But now, I can’t,” you said. His eyes read a little disappointment, but more empathy.

“Alright, I’m sorry,” he said, slowly retracting his hand from your cheek. You wouldn’t have minded it staying there longer. “Can I give you a hug, at least?”

“Yes,” you laughed, pulling him into your arms. You waited with him, until his taxi had arrived there, and then sent him off. The whole evening you were conflicted. Should you have kissed him? You know it would have hurt you, knowing he didn’t mean it the way you did. But was it selfish to wish you had him, even if only for a few fleeting seconds, in the palm of your hand? No, you did the right thing, you told yourself. Don’t break your own heart like that. That’s what other people are here for. The thoughts didn’t stop until late at night, when you finally drifted off into a dreamless sleep.

Your next morning was busy. It was a weekend, but you needed to go grocery shopping and clean some rooms in your home, so you could relax in the afternoon. You were so lost in work, that you almost forgot about what happened the previous evening. Almost. Because when the doorbell rang at 3 in the afternoon, your heart ached for it to be him, standing outside your door.

“Hi.” And there he was. In front of your door, almost like it was imagination. You couldn’t stop the child-like grin that spread on your face at his sight.

“Hey, come in,” you offered, stepping aside for him. He removed his hand from behind his back. And handed you…a scarf?

“I found this at my place today. It’s yours, isn’t it?” he said. “I just dropped by to bring it back.”

And that’s the exact time it took for your brittle hope to be crushed beneath his words.

“That is mine. I’ve been wondering where it was. Thank you,” you said in a robot-kind-of-way. “Where are you off to?”

You didn’t want him to go. He had to stay, so that the last little flicker of Esperance would be kept alive.

“Oh, I just need to get some milk from the store, that’s all,” he said. His smile was too handsome for you to be okay with looking at it. Especially now.

“But actually, there’s something you have for me too, don’t you?” he said.

“What?” you asked, confused. Did he forget something at your place, as well? His lips curled into a cheeky smirk, and your heartbeat picked up pace.

“Yesterday you were worried I wouldn’t remember. Now it seems like I’ll have to remind you of what you said,” he spoke. “You said I can kiss you if I still want to.”

At that moment, you stopped functioning for a few solid seconds. With a wide-eyed gaze you stared at him in disbelief.

“And I do,” he said. “I do still want to kiss you. How could I not, when that’s all I’ve wanted to do for months?”

And then he was there, so close to you, you worried he might hear your heartbeat through your chest. Finally, you understood. A smile spread on your face, completely out of your control. You touched his face, and his beautiful eyes were the last thing you saw before you closed your own and your lips touched. His skin was cold from the temperature outside, so you only pulled him closer. A perfectly comfortable warmth spread in your chest, one that felt as if it had been there, locked up in a small box for months, only waiting to be unleashed. And he had been the key. His gentle kiss and his oh-so familiar scent was all you could think about. You had gotten your Christmas miracle, after all.

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mrs-hilmarson · 3 years

Text

Run To Me (Part 4)

Pairing: Diane Sherman x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 2.5k

Part 1 || Part 2 || Part 3

TW: Brief mention of vomiting. I don’t want anyone getting triggered, so I would rather be overly cautious!

A/N: If you would like to be on a tag list for this fic, please add a comment below or shoot me a message! Excited about the next chapter, things are coming. Again thank you for the love. I am having so much fun writing this and it means even more when you have people who enjoy reading it!

Even though it had been four whole days since the accident, you were not feeling better. Diane had said that the day after was supposed to be the worst, but it seemed like you felt weaker each day. Diane was keeping a close eye on you though, making sure you weren't running a fever and that the road rash and cuts weren't getting worse. She said if you got any weaker, she would bring you to the local urgent care to make sure something serious wasn't going on.

Though you weren't feeling well, you enjoyed the days spent with Diane in the quiet little house, just the two of you. You had learned a lot about each other in the past few days, developing a routine with one another that always ended the day with a cup of that nasty ass tea, but deep and sweet conversation.

You hadn't gone into too much detail about your past quite yet, about your mother or father or what it was like in the foster home. You shared mainly surface level things and funny memories that were light hearted. You knew the heavier stuff would be discussed eventually. Although you were choosing to keep the painful memories of your past to yourself for the time being, Diane had opened to you almost immediately.

You found out she didn't have parents either, her mother dying when she was a child and she was married when she was very young, to an abusive husband that left her for another woman only a year and a half into the marriage. Soon after she found out she was pregnant and she decided to not reach out to her ex-husband and to just raise the baby on her own. Unfortunately she developed high blood pressure and delivered the baby too soon, and she died in Diane's arms before she even had time to discuss options. Her name was Chloe and Diane chose to live a quiet life after that. She moved to Washington only a few years ago and put herself into teaching, science, and her garden. She always wanted a child, but she was just never able have one again.

When she told you that, your heart broke for her. Of course she was so willing to take you home with her. She was lonely! She had promised to take care of you, but you knew as soon as you were back on your feet, you were going to try and care for her too. In whatever way she would let you. You weren't Chloe, and you could never be Chloe, but you could love her with all your heart.

It had been another rough day, as you had suddenly developed a bad headache and had felt queasy for most of it. You didn't really eat much of your dinner, pushing it around your plate. You didn't want to tell Diane you had vomited up breakfast. If she knew you were barely keeping things down, she may get worried.

Diane cleared the plates from the table and brought them to the sink. She noticed you didn't eat more than a few bites. She didn't say anything but turned to you and smiled.

"How about you go ahead and sit on the couch? I'll be there in just a minute," she said quietly. Her voice had seemed to grow more gentle towards you each day.

You smiled wearily and went to the living room, lazily sitting down on the couch. It could have only been a few minutes, but you somehow managed to fall asleep. You were constantly tired and wanting to nap. Diane said it was a good sign because it meant your body was trying to heal itself.

You were woken up by the couch dipping under Diane's weight. You opened your eyes and saw her smiling at you, holding a bowl of something brown. It smelled sweet and you looked at her suspiciously.

"What's that? No tea tonight?" you asked, hopeful.

Diane chuckled and pulled out two spoons, sticking it into the bowl.

"No, no tea tonight. I don't want you to get too much of those herbs and vitamins. And this, it's brownie batter. Me and my friends as teenagers would make a bowl of it and eat it as we talked about boys and school and our dreams," she said, picking up a spoon and licking off the chocolate from it.

You couldn't help but smile as you took a spoon and licked at it cautiously. You had never had the stuff and it was intoxicating. You shoved the whole spoon in your mouth, ready to inhale the entire bowl.

Diane laughed and pulled the bowl towards her.

"Alright, alright speedy... don't eat it too fast. You'll get sick."

You forced yourself to go slower, but the moment Diane turned around you would be sure to put as much of it in your mouth that would fit. This was worth getting sick over. Diane stared at you, drinking up the image of you enjoying the treat she had brought.

"You know," Diane hummed, "I always thought I'd do this one day with my daughter. Make it a tradition and she'd tell me her secrets and we would be best friends."

You're heart ached in your chest. You knew she meant Chloe and you knew she would rather her be on the couch than you. Suddenly the batter didn't taste as sweet. You put the spoon into the bowl and left it there. You looked up at Diane and saw she was almost beaming at you though.

"I'm glad I get to do it with you," she said, picking up the spoon with her other hand and letting you eat off it.

You felt really confused, but happy at the same time. You knew you weren't her daughter, but sometimes the way she said things or looked at you, it was like she wanted you to be. As if that's how she saw you. You weren't sure if you saw her as a mother though, you didn't really know what that felt like. It was complex for you.

"So, Y/n, tell me. What did you do with your friends? Did you have any special traditions with the girls?" Diane asked, eating another spoon of the batter, it dripping onto her lips.

It broke you from your anxious thoughts and had you now thinking about your past. It wasn't that much better but at least it would keep you talking.

"Well, I really wasn't in one place long enough to make any traditions with my friends. But me and my foster sister, the one who lives in town, we would go and sneak out of our group home and head to the woods behind it. The woods had fireflies in them and we would go see the 'light shows' and talk about a bunch of different things. What our families could have been like, what we were going to do when we aged out, the issues we had at the home."

You remembered those nights fondly, some of the few good memories you had growing up. You wondered if there were any woods in the area and if they had fireflies. Maybe you could go and see a 'light show' for old times sake. You would ask your sister when you saw her. But you needed to call her first.

"Uh Diane, could I possibly use your phone?"

Diane suddenly stiffened, the spoon thudding back into the batter. Her face seemed to harden just for a moment before quickly returning to the warm look she often gave you. It took her a moment to respond, making the air between you thick for some reason.

"Sure. Are you okay?" she said, her voice sounding concerned.

She seemed like she was worried and you wondered if she thought she had upset you.

"Oh yeah! I'm fine. I just actually wanted to call my sister and let her know I made it here and that I'm safe and see when she wanted to meet up," you said in a confident tone, hoping to ease her mind.

Her face seemed to twitch and she swallowed hard, clearing her throat. She smiled at you though and you just shrugged off her strange reaction. She pointed to the kitchen where the phone hung on the wall. Diane had phones with chords still in her house, which you found charming, but also a little inconvenient that you couldn't step outside.

"You're welcome to call your foster sister," she said, saying the word 'foster' strangely, "I'm going to go upstairs and get ready for bed to give you some privacy."

She smiled at you and brushed your hair behind your ear before getting up and heading to her room. You waited until you could no longer hear her footsteps before leaning over the brownie bowl and quickly stuffing your mouth with as much batter as you could. As soon as you swallowed it all, you realized you may have made a mistake, but you could regret it later.

You walked over to the phone and pressed the buttons to the number you had memorized by heart. You felt nervous suddenly even though nothing had changed and you had just talked to her a week ago. Your heart race increased with each ringer, anxious to hear her voice.

"Hello?" a sleepy voice on the other side of the phone croaked.

"Mandy? Mandy, its Y/n."

There was some rustling on the other side of the line and you were pretty sure you had woken Mandy up, but you knew she wouldn't mind.

"Hey! I was wondering when I would hear from you. I was a little worried. You were supposed to call me like two days ago," she yawned.

"Yeah I'm sorry. I had a little set back. But I'm here in town and I'm staying with a woman I met-"

Mandy cut you off with a very obnoxious "Ooooohhhhhh!"

"Shut up. It's not like that. She's just a really good friend that I was lucky enough to meet. Now before you say anything else stupid, when and where do you want to meet?"

Mandy chuckled on the other end. She knew you hated being picked on and anytime she sensed even the possibility of making you uncomfortable, she had to crack a joke.

"Well, I have class tomorrow, but I am free after lunch. There is a nice little coffee shop book store on Howard. You can meet me there at like 2PM. Does that sound good?"

"Yeah, that's perfect. I can't wait. I've missed you so much Mandy," you said, tears prickling at your eyes.

"I've missed you too lighting bug. So tell me, who is this lady you are-"

Suddenly Mandy's voice cut off. You pulled the phone away from your ear, not even hearing a dial tone. You messed with the phone for a moment before realizing the line was dead.

"Diane?" you called out, sticking your head around the corner.

Diane was right there, breathing heavy as if she had been running. She startled you and you stared at her, mindlessly passing the phone to her.

"Your phone line went dead," you mumbled.

Diane put the phone to her ear and pressed a few buttons before hanging up.

"I'll call the phone company in the morning. Sometimes someone hits a line and the whole thing goes dead. Were you able to call your friend though?" she asked, leaning against the wall.

You noticed she said friend this time, but you brushed it off. She didn't know the bond you and Mandy shared.

"Yes! I did. I'm going to meet her tomorrow for lunch."

Diane didn't hid her discomfort this time.

"Y/n, I don't think that's a good idea. You're still very weak. You didn't even eat dinner. I don't think you should go out by yourself. Maybe I should go with-"

"No. It's okay. I'll be fine for a couple of hours. I won't be running a marathon, just having a coffee with my sister."

You wanted to spend time with Mandy by yourself and while you appreciated the thought of Diane going with you, you were still an adult no matter how young you looked. It didn't help that at the moment the brownie batter was now fighting against you and you were hunched over slightly.

"Well maybe consider letting me drive you to town? I need to run some errands anyway so I can drive you and that way if you feel like you need to lay down or rest I wouldn't be far."

You would need a ride to town, but you just weren't sure.

"Let me sleep on it. I hate to think I would be using you just for a ride. And-" before you could finish, you start having a coughing fit. Coughing was nothing new to you thanks to the asthma, but this wasn't that. This was the batter.

You tried to keep it down, but it was too late. You threw up, all over yourself, all over the floor, and even on Diane's slippers. You expelled everything you had eaten that day and more and it took a moment before you stopped gagging, laying in a ball on the floor.

Suddenly fear over took you as you saw yourself and the floor covered in vomit. You know your mom would be so mad when she saw it and you would get punished. You didn't want to be punished. You began to cry and you scooted away until your body hit the wall.

"I'm sorry! I'm sorry! I didn't mean to," you cried. You forgot where you were and suddenly you were back at home. You didn't like going back.

Diane quickly ran over to you, not phased by the vomit and held you in her arms. You fought her off at first but she shooshed you and smoothed your hair, holding you close to her. She knew a flashback when she saw one. She held you and whispered in your ear. It took a moment but eventually you came back to present day. You still felt sick, you now smelled awful, your head hurt, and you were embarrassed. For the first time since you had met Diane, you felt tears prickle you eyes and instead of hiding them, you let them flow.

You cried in Diane's arms as she rocked you back in forth, and you apologized over and over again. You weren't sure if you were saying sorry because you had thrown up on her or if it was because she lost her daughter or because you were the mess of a person she felt fate brought her. She kissed your head and took your face in her hands. She wiped your tears with the pads of her thumb and looked at you with tears in her eyes too.

"Hey. It's okay. Stop apologizing. You're safe now Y/n."

She pulled you back to her chest again and wrapped her arms around you tight as if she would never let you go.

"I've got you," she whispered, over and over.

"I've got you, and I'm not letting go."

#sarah paulson x reader #sarah paulson fic #sarah paulson #diane sherman #diane sherman x reader #run film

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erzaguin · 3 years

Text

The Blight Chronicles: Odalia and Alador

Ultimatum Part 1

She really could not understand why it was so important to Alador that they got to Grom together. It was a bit funny though considering their first year at Hexside Odalia could not say or do anything to get Alador to go to Grom with her. He said it was nothing more than a waste of time.

Their second year Odalia was able to convince him to go with her but he ended up leaving early. She had learned a new spell that allowed her to see other people's futures with just a simple touch. She was not going to let the opportunity go to waste so she started talking to as many people as she could while dragging Alador along. In all honesty, she was surprised he lasted as long as he did. Before she knew it he was already long gone.

Then there was last year where the school had a competition to see what weapons would be used by the lucky Grom king or queen. Of course, we won and Principal Bump was so impressed that he also asked Alador if he could build some special effects machines to make the party livelier. That year they spent the entire time working the machines.

I guess maybe he had a point. Grom was supposed to be a memorable experience though she never thought Alador would be into such sentimental things. Normally he wouldn’t and on top of that, he was the one suggesting to do something he did not like. If there was one thing Alador hated it was large gatherings. He didn't like being around so many people and he couldn't stand loud music and chattering. That meant there had to be more behind him being so persistent about going. Blaming Darius might be out of the question this time. Alador seemed to be too excited for this to be one of Darius's dumb plans. The other option would be that he read it in a book. That was probably the most likely reason. Hopefully, he wouldn't do anything embarrassing in front of everyone.

Though she couldn't think about that right now she had to focus on her dress. This was going to be their last Grom so she decided to go all out on her dress. The tricky part was trying to keep it hidden. She didn't want Alador to see it until it was ready and there was no way she could leave it at her own home.

If her mother ever laid her eyes on it just the thought made her shudder. She would probably burn it on the spot. That's the reason she kept it hidden in one of the spare rooms in Alador's house. Though one could say it was her room. Over the years it had become more like a home for her than her own house. It was filled with several of her things. She had even started keeping some of her clothes thereafter one too many experiment explosions leaving her covered in abomination goo. Walking from Alador's house to her own covered in goo was not fun.

If she was being really honest sometimes she wished she wouldn't have to go home. It was a lot more relaxing here and she felt like she had her own space where she belonged. Thanks to the abomibutler she didn't even have to do shores. The only thing she had to worry about here was food and Alador. She had no idea how that boy survived so long without anyone watching over him.

On the other hand, being at home had never felt worse. Ever since she met Alador the need to leave her house had intensified immensely. Her parents didn't know about Alador and she wanted to keep it that way for as long as possible. The only reason she was able to spend so much time with Alador without raising suspicion was that she had convinced her mother that she was placed in a special advanced program meant for students with strong magic. Her mother believed that she had early and late classes on top of her regular classes which is why she was able to go to Alador’s house early in the morning and after school. Of course, she still had to do her chores but that just meant she had to wake up a little earlier, nothing she could not handle.

There had been one occasion when her mother saw her with Alador at the market. They had been out buying some materials Alador needed when they ran into her. They told her Alador was in the same special class and they had to do a group project together. Luckily thanks to Alador's appearance and natural calm demeanor her mother didn't think too much of the situation and let them go on their way with only asking a few questions.

“It’s finished,” she said, taking a step back to admire the dress. It looked very extravagant if she said so herself. It was a strapless gown. The top was fitted and a light lavender which bled into a much darker shade of purple as it went down. The bottom of the dress was puffy rather than fitted with intricate embroidery which made her feel like it was a dress fit for a princess. She had been working on the dress for the past two months and looking at it now she felt like all that hard work had really paid off and just in time as well. Grom was in two days.

Just then she heard three lazy knocks on the door. “Oh no, is it that late already?” She took out the window and notice how dark it had gotten already. She had gotten so distracted by the dress she had lost track of time. She quickly threw a blanket over the dress to keep it hidden even though she knew Alador would never go into her room. She packed her things as quickly as possible and opened the door where she was met by the abomibutler. “Thank you for the reminder and the great work and remember stay out of my room.” There were two rooms the abomibutler was not permitted to enter unless specifically ordered to which would be Alador’s bedroom and her room. They did not want it moving anything around in there.

She quickly ran to Alador’s room to say goodnight but she found him fast asleep at his desk. “It really is late isn’t it,” she muttered to herself. She quietly approached Alador and kissed him on the cheek “come on Alador you have to sleep on the bed.” she whispered into his ear. Alador got up and let himself be guided by her as he remained with his eyes closed. Odalia tucked him in before giving him one last kiss on his forehead and whispering goodnight.

It was really late much too late she just hoped that her parents were asleep or too intoxicated to notice her arrival. Once she got home she saw there were no lights on and took it as a good sign. She opened the front door as quietly as possible hoping not to get her parents' attention. She closed and locked the door behind her and tried walking quietly to her room. She was halfway past the living room when a light went on.

"Good evening Odalia,'' said a cool icy voice coming from the living room. Sitting there in a recliner was her mother, her eyes shone with a quiet furry she had never seen before.

"He..hello mother" stuttered Odalia, noticing the small chest on her mother's lap. It took her a moment to realize that was her chest the one she kept hidden under her bed. The chest that contained random poems and stories but more importantly it also had money she had been saving up before meeting Alador. Since they met she started stashing away money in her room at his house. She had completely forgotten about the chest under her bed.

"You must think me a fool girl," hissed her mother in between clenched teeth as she got up from her seat and approached Odalia.

"Mother no I...," pleaded Odalia, her feet rooted to the spot as she was cut off by the burning sensation across her face. Hot tears started to roll down Odalia's face but it wasn't from the pain. No, it was that she knew that what was coming was much worse.

"How long did you think you could keep this from me?! You must have thought you were so clever stealing my money so you could run away with that boy from the market!" growled her mother.

Odalia's face went pale when she heard her mother mention Alador. She had been so sure she didn't suspect anything was going on between them. What else did she know? How did she find out?

"Oh yes I know all about that boy and I saw the poems. To think I had raised such a stupid girl who would want to run off with the first boy that gave her the time of day." snarled her mother.

"No I wasn't…" pleaded Odalia.

"Don't you dare lie to me girl!" she said, grabbing Odalia by the scruff of her shirt and started dragging her to a nearby door. "I'll teach you to steal from me!" roared her mother before opening the door and tossing Odalia in. "You will never see that boy again," she growled before slamming the door shut and locking her in.

#the owl house #odaliablight #alador blight #odalador #toh fanfic #toh #theblightchronicles

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yellowbluemoonshine · 3 years

Text

Why Kacchako would be bad idea in canon

Thanks for question, anon. Actually, i didnt care bnha ships these much in past. And i didnt understand why people ship Kacchako so i wanted to give a chance to see their point cause it was so popular. I wanted to understand why they like it. And many people write some metas about ‘Kacchaco would be better as canon’ and i thought about it a lot. Sooo i wanna explain why i think kacchaco is bad ship in canon.

‘Bakugou respects Uraraka’

So we all know that Bakugou started to respect Uraraka cause she is strong girl and its true. She is. But point is;

People dont become strong on their own, people who supported us, people who inspired us makes us strong. We can show the true strengh in ourselves, thanks to those people.

Uraraka did her best when he fought with Bakugou but she wouldnt do her best, if she wasnt inspired by Deku who always does his best. You know, at first, Uraraka was kind of girl who doesnt take things seriously, unlike others. She is normal girl who just wanted to make her family happy.

And again, like i said, people dont become strong on their own. Bakugou respects Uraraka cause he realized she is strong but the one who make Uraraka strong isnt Bakugou. So if Uraraka didnt meet with Deku or Uraraka hadnt those people around her, she couldnt show her real strong. And Bakugou wouldnt respect her.

Like; when you need help, this person wont care about you and wont help you but when you got the help you need and show the strengh you always had inside of you, this person will respect you.

Not even need to mention how that fight portrayed.Like, who cares Uraraka is a girl, she is human being and those much violence was unnecessary. This is not respecting someone, this is just simply not caring the person in front of you.

‘Uraraka understand Bakugou’

First, Uraraka doesnt specifcially uınderstand Bakugou, she has high emotionally intelligece. She is good at reading people’s emotions. This is why she realized Tsuyu when she was in pain and tried to help her etc etc.

And there is this scene many things like it;

Uraraka says if we tried to save Bakugou, Bakugou wouldnt like it and its truth but also there is this scene;

Look how Bakugou is happy to be saved. Basically, if they did what Uraraka did, they couldnt have saved Bakugou.

Bakugou’s ego problem

We all know why Bakugou has his inferioty complex cause he was praised for the things he was born, how everyone see him as amazing cause he has strong quirk and naturally talented.

Hero society, even UE also does same thing to bakugou and Uraraka is one of those people. Just like everyone; she thinks he is cool, she trust him. But its a problem should be solved.

In novel. Uraraka talks about how bakugou wouldnt be Bakugou, if he wasnt badmouthing. This is how people treated Bakugou, they justify his wrong actions and Uraraka does the same so how can Uraraka can be the one who changes him, if she thinks and treats Bakugou just like others did.

And another scene from novel. Uraraka says she wants to be like Bakugou cause of his crazy sides but again, Bakugou’s ego, his strengh is not something that should be admired.

This is a flaw that needs to be fixed. It shouldnt justified. This is why i dont think Uraraka is good option cause Bakugou needs to be together with someone who wont justify his wrong actions and someone who wont praise his ego, i think.

Even her development after her fight with bakugou is all about strengh, not personal development so i dont think they would be good match.

Their interaction is based on ‘Deku’

Their character interaction is mainly about Deku. Those two dont interact each other, otherwise.

For example;

- Uraraka vs Bakugou; Bakugou thought Deku helped Uraraka with her plan, he even pointed that her self destructive moves is really similar to Deku’s. And when Uraraka fought with Deku, she thought how she wants to do her best like Deku.

- Uraraka comes to Bakugou to talk about his relationship with Deku cause she cares about Deku. Bakugou treats everyone like this but Uraraka only comes for Deku.

- She even keep warning him and saying stop bullying Deku.

etc etc

I am not saying that they never talk about something else but what brings them encounter is Deku. This is one of the main reasons i dont ship them cause their relationship is full of Deku.

For example; Uraraka and Iida.

The reason Uraraka and Iida encounter is because they both interested in Deku but after a while, they have relationship outside of Deku.

Like, Uraraka is worrying about Iida’s match (she doesnt do it in Bakugou’s match), she even find Iida funny and they sometimes interact etc etc. I am not saying that Uraraka x Iida should be canon but at least, they have interaction, outside of Deku.

Bakugou will truly grow when he faced with what he did to Deku, so Deku is important here but at least, Bakugou has interactions, outside of Deku, like with Kirishima, kaminari, Jirou etc.

This is why i dislike this ship because its like cutting Deku from the picture, even though he is always there. Ship itself ignore Deku’s existence and affect on characters.

Uraraka can reach out to Bakugou

I think this is reason people like this ship cause they realized somehow Uraraka’s word affects Bakugou’s actions.

But here is this happens;

1- Every person improve when they face with their flaws and take responsibility for their actions.

We all know Bakugou’s ego problem and mostly, how this problem lead him to bully Deku. This is exaclty why Bakugou truly grow when he faces with what he did to Deku.

The reason Uraraka’s word is affecting him isnt about Uraraka’s being special. Its because its about Deku. And Deku is important here cause he is the one who suffered by Bakugou’s ego the most.

2- How to deal with people who have anger issues?

Simple; take a distance. You dont need to endure anyone’s anger, its not worth it which is something that Uraraka does. She wont endure Bakugou’s anger, like Deku did, Krishima did, Todoroki did.

This is why her words are more effective. Its because she doesnt have relationship with him. If she hanging aroung with Bakugou a lot, he would treat her like the way he treats others. But Uraraka wont be with people who dont see her as an indivual. This is why it lead bakugou to see Uraraka as more invidual, compared to others.

So basicaly it works because she doesnt have relationship with him.

And i think, Bakugou isnt really prepared to have healthy relationship right now. This doesnt mean that Bakugou should never togethet with someone. Its just i dont think it should be Uraraka cause i think Bakugou should be together with someone who will only see him as special too.

Btw; Uraraka is selfless and Bakugou is selfish, yes but Uraraka isnt opposite of Bakugou because Bakugou isnt selfish, he is also abusive. Yeah, Uraraka needs to think about herself more but unfortunately, you dont learn to think about yourself by being selfish people. Its not how it works. Being with selfish people only makes you feel more worthless. This is why they dont match as the way people thought about them.

People want to see Uraraka’s having an arc outside of Deku

Its because author always focus on Uraraka’s feelings for Deku but actually, Uraraka’s flaw isnt her feelings. Her flaw is being selfless.

This girl literally stop eating so her family can work less. Problem isnt Izuocha at all. ıts about how Uraraka put other needs on her own.

I think its a problem with writing. Author could focus on this side of Uraraka more. But instead, it kinda looks like her felings is problem, even though its opposite.

Uraraka’s arc is about both learning to be better hero and learning to being onest with herself. First one is happenning with Deku cause he is the one who inspires her. Second will most likely happen with Toga who is Uraraka’s villain foil.

So basically, we can get interesting interactions with Uraraka and story could deal with her arc better but author doesnt prefer it so erasing Uraraka’s feelings for Deku from story wont actually solve anything.

Izuocha

There is already set up for this ship since the beginning. Also their relationship is so nice.

Uraraka and Deku literally enter UE, thanks to kindness they showed each others. It shows they are meant toe be partners who works together.

I know we didnt get development in their relationship for long time but think about how it started; Both Uraraka and Deku’s development stopped when they stopped interactng with each others.

The problem isnt izuocha. Both Deku and Uraraka have their own flaws and for their character development,they also should be together.

Uraraka should learning to be honest with herself and her inspiration for Deku what makes her better hero at first place.

Deku needs to learn to be invidual, before than being hero. He shouldnt be like Allmight, he should have his own life. Deku always has obsession with heroes and Uraraka is important here cause his relationship with her is also outside of being hero. Also she makes him feel worthy.

Basically, being side with each other helps them to grow as characters too.

Not to mention how many scenes we have too many izuocha scenes in manga.

Here; https://twitter.com/Chaizu2/status/1146634421094645761

And Izuocha’s being parallel with shigatoga too.

For more details;

Here;

https://savetenko.tumblr.com/post/616248203846828032/partners-deku-uraraka-shigaraki-toga

And here;

https://savetenko.tumblr.com/post/620471397600378880/meeting-with-the-boy

So whats the point of detroying this nice relationship?

Why did we watch their feelings then?

If its not gonna resolve or if it was just a little pointless thig, then what was the point?

Its true that ızuocha could’ve been writen better, it still can, it has that potential and its up to author but not making this ship canon wont make things better at all.

A story about abuse

I think this is the main reason i dislike this ship as canon.

Bnha is a story about abuse, abusers, abuse victims. How violence affect and destroy people’s minds.

Also, main characters in bnha is being punished for wrong actions and bakugou is one of those main characters too.

For example;

Deku here says Shouto is forgiving Endeavour cause he is good person.

Look at how story punches Deku’s face, even though Deku didnt even mean to hurt Natsuo and its not even weird since Deku is abuse victim too.

And what Bakugou did to Deku isnt even one little wrong word. And he meant to hurt him. Its a huge big wrong thing what Bakugou did to Deku.

So basically, making kacchako canon is like; Bakugou will get redemption, exchange he will be with the person Deku loves.

In real life, things like this can happen but this is not real life, its a story and in stories, actions have consequences, especially in a story about abuse. Of course, Uraraka is her own character but this is not about her.

Its just the idea; Bakugou will get redemption, exchange he will get love interest and that love interest is someone Deku really close. Abuser’s being with abuse victims’s love interest is terrible idea especially in a story about abuse.

Uraraka wouldnt even interact with Bakugou, if it wasnt for Deku’s sake but somehow, she will like Bakugou because???

Its literally like using Deku as a stepping stone cause if Deku wasnt there, Bakugou and Uraraka wouldnt interact and as long as Deku is there/after meeting with Deku, i dont think Uraraka would love Bakugou.

Its also seem like good girl-bad boy cliche we saw in shoujo mangas. It will turn into love triangle (which is i personally hate) and this story isnt even romance series so no point.

Uraraka s type

You see, Uraraka has certain type (just like Toga and many other people). Point is; we all have. Unconciously we chose the people we love cause there are some behaviours we liked and we fall in love with the people who has those behaviours. This is how love works in real life and bnha’s author actually does the same.

Uraraka is hight emotionally girl, she immediately saw something in Deku. Something that makes her interested in him. She realized this, before than Deku cause she is better at reading people. And that type doesnt fit to Bakugou's character at all. So basically loving Deku is also part of Uraraka’s character.

Basically;

After all of this point, there is no point of making Kacchako canon, it would be terrible idea.

‘If author started with Kacchako, would it be good ship?’

It wouldnt cause again and again, it doesnt fit to their characters. Remember she interact with him cause she cares Deku. Uraraka wouldnt bother to deal with Bakugou and she wouldnt find him inetersting. And bakugou wouldnt chase after a girl who doesnt interested in him.

‘If they meet in completely in different situtions, maybe they would like each others or they would be together?’

I dont think so and actually with this logic, almost any ship can happen, for example; like Uraraka x Shigaraki.

This is all my own opinion. Of course, i dont say anything to people who find them cute together cause even though i dislike it, everyone have different tastes. I just explained why Kacchako is bad idea for canon. All that fandom has idea of Kacchako is completely fanon.

And the reason i dislike is also i am kinda scared it can be canon, even though it doesnt make sense but anything can happen, especialy author is Bakugou fan, i wouldnt be surprised every character fall in love with Bakugou at all. Lol.

People make depth analysis about it and actually those analysis are good, except i think people forget why Kacchako didnt become canon at first place. I dont like that ignorance, especially its ignoring Deku’s existence. I also think its so forced, especially fandom make many edits. Its like people completely ignore canon cases happenning in story and they write a new story and making them love each others. But i think Kacchako doesnt really work in canon at all.

There might be things i forget to write but for now, thats it.

#bnha analysis #anon #bakugou katsuki #midoriya izuku #uraraka ochaco #anti kacchako #anti kacchaco #izuocha #shigaraki x uraraka lol

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justanotherlifeff · 4 years

Note

How 'bout a Bakugou fic where he's in love with an older woman, lets say his senpai. I just love the idea of Bakubae pining after someone who's a little bit older than him 🤤

Not my senpai

Bakugou stared at the big red zero on the test paper in his hand with an angry expression. Ofcourse he, THE Bakugou Katsuki couldn't get a fucking zero on a test! There must have been some sort of mistake! As if Aizawa was reading Bakugou's mind, he looked at Bakugou and stated, "Bakugou, there hasn’t been any mistake in my grading if that's what you're thinking. You got perfect scores in every other test except for English. If you want to be a top hero, your English speaking skills need to be top notch since famous pro heroes are sometimes sent on missions abroad. You need extra tutoring and we'll talk in details about it after classes are over.". "Yes, sensei.." Bakugou grumbled, almost blowing up the test paper in his hand as he crumbled it and shoved it in his bag. The worst part of it all was that he was the only one in class to fail English. Iida, Todoroki and Yaoyorozu came from expensive middle schools which gave them good English skills since they already learnt it all from back there. Midoriya was always good at taking notes which is why he managed to keep up with English as he also took help from Iida and Todoroki. Uraraka and Tsuyu took help from them as well and managed to pass the English exams. Kaminari and Sero knew English from video games while Mina and Kirishima learnt it from american fashion and fitness blogs. Koda learned English from cooking videos while Jirou learnt it from singing English songs. Satou apparently had relatives abroad and therefore, he was taught the language by his parents. No one knew how Ayoama knew such good English while the others simply seeked guidance from Yaoyorozu. Hell, even Mineta knew enough English to pass the exams thanks to watching way too many English porn videos! Bakugou was the only one with the massive ego to not ask for help from anyone which in turn came back to bite him on his own ass.

When class was finally over, Bakugou sat at his chair angrily, waiting for his discussion with Aizawa. He knew that getting extra tutoring would improve his English skills and ofcourse, he didn't want to be topped by "shitty deku". Then again, taking help from people was rather embarassing for him. However, it's not like he had an option in this case. While thinking of all these, he didn't notice the third year student slip in the classroom. Bakugou was currently in the second year of UA. During his first year, he was able to manage English classes somehow but now that lessons got way harder, he managed to get his first failing grade in his entire life. Bakugou's trail of thoughts was broken by Aizawa speaking to him. "I don't have any extra time to give you extra tutoring and nor does the other teachers. (L/N) here would be helping you with English because of that. She's one of the big three of the third year and she's got the top marks in every year so don't underestimate her and behave. Talk to her and set your extra lesson timings." Aizawa drawled before getting out of the class with his sleeping bag, leaving Bakugou with you. "Hey, I'm (L/N) (Y/N) from 3A and I'm glad to help you out with English. So, Bakugou-kun, tell me when you're free and we can work out a time to study together?" you told him with a small smile as you sat on the chair infront of him. "Am free after classes everyday for 2 hours." Bakugou muttered with a scowl. "I see. You're not too friendly are you? Well, it doesn't matter. As long as you cooperate and as long as your English skills get better, you don't need to play friends. I'll see you after class on Wednesdays and Thursdays alright? See ya tommorow." You stood up, your polite smile gone to replace your face with seriousness. Well, atleast you successfully broke his expectations of you being a random extra cause it was like you read him by his expression alone.

"(L/N)-SENPAI IS GIVING YOU EXTRA TUTORING? GODDAMNIT WHY DID I NOT FAIL ENGLISH?!?!?!??!" Kaminari wailed at the information passed onto him for the 100th time. "Why is dunce face acting like that?" Bakugou asked Kirishima, tired of Kaminari's fanboying over you. "You really don't know anything about (L/N)-senpai do you Bakubro? Her quirk is similar to principal Nezu and she pretty much is smarter than a computer. She can tell exactly what you're thinking by just looking at you cause she's so good at reading a person's body language and she apparantly got into the hero course without having any physical quirk just cause she apparantly made a different student hit a building in a certain place that made all the other buildings in Ground beta fall over crushing all the robots. Principal Nezu already requested her to take over his position as soon as he retires. She won the sports festival three times in her year cause she uses everyone's quirk against them somehow. As far as I know, no one really understands what's going on in her mind cause she always has this polite smile on her and so far, no one has been able to befriend her or get anywhere close to her cause she somehow always shuts them out. She's pretty much the prettiest, smartest and the most untouchable girl in UA. Which is why, Kaminari is shitting himself cause (Y/N)-senpai would never go out of her way to tutor someone and you're seriously lucky cause she's probably the smartest person in Musutafu besides Principal Nezu." Kirishima explained. At the moment, Bakugou clearly understood why your expression suddenly changed just because he scowled. You probably understood that he thought you were an extra when in reality, you were anything but one. The whole ordeal, somehow, made Bakugou feel embarassed about judging you without knowing shit.

Wednesday came sooner than he expected and Bakugou knew that he had to compensate for embarassing himself. Ofcourse you probably thought that he infact was the extra cause you were clearly way smarter than he was. While you tried to find his issues with English, he was feeling uncomfortable thinking about the events from back then. "Bakugou-kun, I'm not looking down on you cause you looked down on me. I can understand that you figured out my quirk from someone but it's alright. People tend to judge others and that's normal human behaviour. Now that you feel bad about it, that's enough for me and we can just forget that happened." you told him, again with that polite smile. "Okay." Bakugou muttered feeling awkward since he wasn’t used to people reading him like that. Like Kirishima mentioned, you really were extremely smart and you figured out exactly what made his English skills weak in a matter of minutes. While he had a good understanding of grammer, he clearly had no practice when it came to implementing it. After talking to him for a while, you figured out his interests quite easily and for the next few months, you brought him books that he might like for him to read out loud to you. Bakugou was a smart person as well and it didn't take him any more than the next three months to master English well. By then, the two of you read over a hundred books together in the library. The two days of tutoring turned into all seven days a week and Bakugou found himself drawn to you after the first month. While you were polite and cold at the begining, you started to laugh at Bakugou's dry offensive humour. Bakugou found your smart remarks funny as well, letting out a deep chuckle at times. The books you got him were all up to his interests at the beginning but with time, they ended up being books that you genuinely enjoyed which made Bakugou learn more and more about you. You, like him, were a misunderstood person. You understood exactly what others thought of you which made you detach yourself from people. Everyone always thought of you negatively behind your back and they believed that you wouldn’t figure it out. The only problem was that you always did. People were easy to read after all and you understood why people found you to be too intense. People are naturally made to be scared of the unknown and no one really knew you. Well, except Bakugou. You opened up to this certain boy because he always showed what he felt. To him, there was no reason to hide his feelings, he would say that he dislikes someone on their face. You liked that bold attitude and you found yourself opening up to him, thinking of him as a friend or maybe more.

When Bakugou looked at the red 100/100 written on his English test paper, a smirk formed at his face. He couldn't wait to show it to you and brag about his English skills. He knew that he wouldn't be here without you but then again, you already knew that. He loved that he didn’t have to voice his appreciation out loud to you since you always picked up on his subtle gestures of appreciation unlike everyone else. Hell, you were smart enough to see the good in him, to see everything else other than his prickly exterior. He finally knew why Kaminari was fangirling over you months back since ge found himself doing the same. You were the embodiment of perfection to him and now, three months later, he knew that he was head over heels in love with you. However, unlike you, he didn't have any way of predicting you. You were older than him by an year. Hell, you were a senior student and you always rejected everyone who asked you out. You'd be starting out as a pro hero in less than a few months while he'll still be a high school student and ofcourse that meant that you’d most probably reject him. With all that negative thoughts, he went to the library to meet up with you for tutoring sessions. Given that he already aced his exams, there was no more reason for you to tutor him anymore. The thought that you probably wouldn’t talk to him again made him feel sick at the stomach. "Hey Bakugou-kun! How did the test go?" you asked him with a genuine smile as you sat at one of the tables in the library. With a cocky smirk, Bakugou held out his test paper, showing off his perfect grade. To his surprise, you stood up and did a little weird victory dance as you clearly looked extremely happy. "Damn, (L/N), you seem more happy about my grades than I am" Bakugou teased you, making you blush furiously as you realised that you literally danced like an idiot infront of him. "It's (L/N)-senpai Bakugo-kun! Besides, all teachers feel happy when their students get perfect scores you know!" you tried to defend yourself by teasing him. Usually, he would tease you back with some sort of insulting remark but this time, he was quiet. You knew about his feelings for you for a while. After all, Bakugou wasn’t very hard to read. To be honest, you found yourself falling for him as well. However, you wanted him to make the first move. You were older than he is but that didn't mean that you’d have to take charge in every case. Unfortunately, it seemed as if he couldn’t gain that confidence and now that your tutoring sessions came to an end, you didn't know what to do. "Senpai huh..." you heard Bakugou mutter, his hair hiding his eyes as you saw a small smirk on his face. "I refuse to call you my senpai, (L/N). You may be an year older than I am, you may have a quirk that makes you a hundred times smarter than I am but I saw through you. Don't think that I didn’t notice those blushes on your face whenever I teased you or how you look like the world ended now that our tuition sessions are over. I seriously was confused at the begining but now, I'm pretty confident that you like me, don't you, (Y/N)?" Bakugou asked, looking straight at your eyes as he called you by your first name. To say that you were blushing would be an understatement as you were completely red by his boldness. "As far as I'm concerned, you're not my senpai from now on. You'll be my girlfriend instead. If I'm wrong, then you can walk away from me and I'll not bother you again." Bakugou stated, a blush forming at his face. He didn’t think this through. Infact, as soon as he saw your sad expression, he decided that he needed to confess now. It as now or never. Bakugou was never good with feelings and you understood why his confession sounded more like a declaration that you were his. A small shy smile formed on your face as you looked at him and said, "Alright, I'm not your senpai". The next thing you knew was that you were pulled into a deep passionate kiss.

Bonus: "YOU'RE DATING (L/N)-SENPAI??!?!?!?! WHY DID I NOT FAIL ENGLISH GAHHHHHH" Kaminari was bawling in the 2A common room while Bakugou looked at Kirishima with an annoyed expression and told him, "Tell Dunce face to shut his trap." Kirishima only looked at Bakugou with a shocked expression thanks to the news that Bakugou was dating you being thrown at him moments ago.

[Author's note: I've been wanting to write something like this for a while. Hope you liked it!]

#bakugou katsuki #bnha bakugou #bakugo fluff #bnha #bnha fanfiction #bakugo x reader #bakugou ? reader #bnha x reader #bakugo katsuki #bakugou x reader #mha bakugou #bakugou fanfiction #bakugou × reader

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berrydoodleoo · 3 years

Text

big bro gladio

This was just supposed to be a few quick headcanons? Instead it’s a fic. Less dialogue and action than I usually put in my fics, but eh. Anyway, have my thoughts about Gladio and his relationships growing up.

***

Like Noct, Gladio has spent his life on guard against false friends.

When he was seven, his dad pulled him aside after weapons training. “I don’t want you hanging out with that boy Lycus anymore,” he said, apropos of nothing as far as Gladio could tell.

Shocked and angry, Gladio pestered him for an explanation, and eventually Dad said it was ‘a potential security issue’. Gladio spent hours trying to visualize how Lycus could be a threat to him -- Gladio was bigger and stronger, Lycus was hilarious and fast on the field but had no combat training whatsoever -- when he realized that wasn’t the point at all. Lycus could be a threat to Noctis. And as ever, anything that happened to Gladio was actually about someone else instead.

He imagined that his Dad had caught Lycus doing something when he stayed over. Going through his office, maybe, or trying to get into the weapons cabinet. He doesn’t mean to, but somehow the rest of the class turns against Lycus as well, and he stops speaking up in class, stops being funny and starts being mean. But not to Gladio; Gladio doesn’t talk to him anymore. As ordered.

Later, he learned that Lycus’ dad was in an argument with the King about infrastructure development in his district. That was all it was.

It’s not that he doesn’t forgive his father -- there are lots of things he’ll never forgive him for, but he’s learned to live with them -- it’s that he’ll never stop resenting him for it. Hating him, for making Gladio an instrument of his thoughtless cruelty.

It’s not that he envies Noct. Yeah, Gladio has to guard him, but Noct also has to guard himself, all in preparation for his future as the King. And Gladio has seen how the King lives.

Early in his training, he spent a lot of time trailing his Dad around, just seeing how things worked. After Noct’s thirteenth birthday, the press suddenly shifted their attention from the Prince (who they speculated about wildly -- was he doing well in school? Did he have friends, a girlfriend, post-traumatic stress disorder? Did he cry at his mother’s grave every year?) to the King. Was he planning to remarry?

Remarry? The King?

Gladio wasn’t sure where the question came from, but when it hit, it hit everywhere. Every state banquet was suddenly an opportunity for photos of the King and his conversation partners, accompanied by endless speculation about what that smile meant, that hand shake, that choice of drink, or tie, or watch, and so on. If the person they targeted didn’t answer their questions, they became the target of even more speculation. It wasn’t just the gutter press, either. Gladio turned on the TV at prime time one day and was shocked to see an hour-long special about the King, his courtship and marriage with the Queen, and the potential legal issues surrounding his (rumored) remarriage. They were going to have a special segment about the Prince, with a psychologist to talk about step-families and trauma.

Gladio turned it off, feeling voyeuristic. Everyone in the Citadel was tense after that, bristling with rage, but there was nothing they could do about any of it.

Gladio, in his role as his father’s obedient shadow, was also made privy to a top-level conversation on the topic between Clarus, Cor, and Drautos. Some of the figures pursued by the press had merely been caught in the crossfire, they concluded. Others were attempting to use the publicity to their advantage, which was not a problem for their offices. A few, maybe, had real aims on the King, and ‘love’ didn’t seem to be an option they even considered. Clarus ordered thorough security checks and surveillance on the biggest names, and the whole thing made Gladio sick.

But it didn’t end there. A few weeks later, to Gladio’s horror, the Council had their own version of this discussion, this time with a political slant. All directly in front of the King himself. His Majesty didn’t seem perturbed by the discussion -- he exchanged a Glance with his Shield, but remained otherwise unreadable -- and yet Gladio burned with embarrassment and indignation for him.

So as much as Gladio resents Noct sometimes, he also pities him. And so he guards himself, socializes carefully, makes friends among the children of his father’s associates, and never gets too close to anyone.

In high school, he falls in love once, and he’s too busy with dates that ended in making out and heavy petting to notice at first. When he did, he broke it off immediately, cited some excuse about his duties and his dad not thinking the relationship was a good idea. All he could think about was getting away, getting away, getting away. When he got home, his heart was still pounding, and he checked all the locks and codes twice. Was he scared, or guilty?

When they told him they’d confronted his father, his heart stopped. He was certain he was about to be caught in his lie. But the rambling, teary argument that followed revealed that Clarus had been sympathetic but firm, and had invented a completely false conversation to back up Gladio’s falsehoods.

Afterwards, he never brought it up with his son, and Gladio never asked.

After high school, in the Crownsguard, Gladio makes a new set of friends. Many of them are older than him and worldly in ways he isn’t. They have their own routines, which Gladio is indoctrinated in. The whole idea of ‘friends with benefits’ was a pretty sweet deal, he felt, especially since these ‘friends’ often went out on assignment afterwards and he never had to see them again.

(Except Ignis. They only hook-up once -- okay, twice -- or maybe three times -- but they don’t talk about it. More than the weapons training or survival courses, it’s the most dangerous thing they’ve ever done.)

At the same time, fifteen-year-old Noct makes his first friend. Prompto. Weird kid, goofy, but likeable. Not cool, really, but then, neither is Noctis. They spend their time goofing around, playing video games and doing homework. Unlike Gladio’s ‘friends’, Prompto stayed, and Gladio was happy for it. Noct needed a friend.

Not like Gladio. Gladio didn’t need anything.

During his training with the Kingsglaive, Gladio developed a reputation of sorts. He was known for taking people on flashy dates to exclusive clubs (getting in was effortless, for him), hooking up, and then moving on. All perfectly friendly and above board. He worked himself to exhaustion all week, spent most of his weekend in bed with someone new, and went back to the routine again on Monday. Never the same person twice.

His peers admired him for it. His Dad asked a few questions, and when Gladio snapped, he backed off with a scowl. Iris … Gladio convinced himself she didn’t know what was happening.

Noct and Prompto started dating then, too. It was a terrible idea, and Gladio knew it, but it was clear the kids were in love and besides, he’d seen how the King lived. How Noct would one day live. Hell, he was already half-inside the bubble anyway. He covered for them, even from Ignis for a while (and boy did Ignis give him shit for that), and then he and Ignis covered for them together.

It was good. Nothing was missing, everything was in its place. It was good.

When the treaty discussions start up, Gladio ends his dalliances with his fellow Glaives and ‘Guard members. He needs to be focused. No holes in his, and thus in Noct’s, security; no gaps someone could wriggle their way through. It’s easier than he thought it would be. He takes up reading to fill his sudden spare time.

Before the betrothal is announced, Prompto and Noct stop … doing whatever they’d been doing. Noct called it ‘hooking up’, but couldn’t quite pull off the lie. Prompto started training with the Crownsguard, and Gladio had to stand by and watch Prompto run, face-first, into the same hook-up culture he’d just left behind. It was different, from this angle. He didn’t like that Prompto was getting off with people he didn’t know. He didn’t like how they didn’t care about him, how they used bad pickup lines and groped him in public. How they didn’t know about his photos, or his parents, or the kitchen scale on his counter, or his obsessive knowledge about calorie counts and chocobos.

They didn’t love Prompto, but Noct did. From a distance. The kid had turned into a good actor at some point

Prompto got pulled into the wash cycle of hook-ups and break-ups fast enough, but Noct continued on alone. More and more his eyes came to resemble panes of glass, from which something shadowy and mute peered out in silence.

After Altissa, Gladio starts sleeping beside Ignis. Just sleeping. They end up spooned together most of the time, Gladio at Ignis’s back, looking out into the darkness that Ignis can’t see. Guarding him from it. Ignis is weird, strangely muted and palpably discouraged, but he clutches back at Gladio as hard as Gladio clutches him.

In Zegnautus Keep, Gladio wakes one morning to see Noct and Prompto talking. They know he’s up and moving, their conversation soft and halting behind him. He hears when they fall into a kiss, and stays turned away, giving them their privacy. His face is burning but he’s also amused, a little heartsick, and quietly happy for them.

It’s the last morning the four of them will have together, although they don’t know it yet. Further in the Keep, the crystal and the darkness are waiting. Even further in the distance, a blood-stained dawn calls their names.

As they set out into the Keep again, Noct pauses and looks at him. At Gladio. His eyes are full of questions and uncertainty, like a kid who needs to hear that everything will be okay. That he’s done everything right.

“What?” Gladio asks, confused.

Noct just sighs. “Nothing.”

Gladio stares at his downturned face a moment longer, trying to figure him out. He doesn’t think he’s done anything to make him mad.

“All right,” Gladio says finally -- dubiously -- and without another word, he leads the way.

#ffxv #ffxv fic #my fic #gladiolus amicitia #noctis lucis caelum #prompto argentum #ignis scientia #weird headcanon fic mashup thing #~2000 words

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jungshookz · 4 years

Note

no but like what if one day ballet!yn was being teased by some of the girls in the class during their pre-class stretch about how she thinks balletteacher!jm is a SMOKE n shes like gUYS SHUT UP but jimin is like >:))) oh oKAY

➺ pairing; park jimin x reader

➺ genre; balletteacher!jiminiverse!!! mr. park is back n hotter than ever!!! everyone seemed to miss him so he’s bACK i’m going to be honest with u there is some sexual tension here but we all saw that coming

➺ wordcount: 3k

➺ what to expect; “park jimin is a tall glass of water and we are all thirsty.”

➺ optional reading: not necessary but you can read this drabble before getting started on this one!

➺ note; this was sent in a whiLe ago!! better late than never >:-)i have no idea why i was suddenly inspired to write aLL of this tonight because i have to wake up at 8 and it is currently 2:15am and i haven’t showered yet but i had to do it for ballet teacher jimin because just like y/n i too am hot for teaCHER

»»————-　♡　————-««

“surprise, surprise… look who’s late again!” seulgi smiles a little toO sweetly as you stumble into the classroom

“the bus was late, it’s not my fault-“ you grumble as you drop to the floor to join the other girls who are in the middle of warming up

“well, you should think about leaving campus a little earlier if it means coming here on time like the rest of us.” seulgi sighs as she turns side to side to check herself out in the mirror

“oh my god-“ you gasp in mock shock in the middle of pulling one of your leg warmers on

seulgi glances at you from the mirror “what?”

“…is that a pimple i spot?” you point up towards her forehead and her eyes widen in horror as she leans closer to the mirror

“what?!” she smooths her fingers over her forehead furiously and you can’t help but snort

that’ll keep her occupied for the next twenty minutes or so

you let out a grunt of relief as you focus on working the kinks out of your shoulders and your neck while rolling your ankles at the same time

pop crackle snAP

ever since the incident (aka you attempting a grand jeté and failing miserably leading to a very sprained ankle) you’ve been taking it easy buT you went to a check-up over the weekend and the doctor says your ankle seems to have healed veRy well and you can go back to doing what you were doing

as long as you knoW what it is you’re doing, of course

maybe stay away from the grand jetéing for now

“so, y/n, when are you going to tell us what went down between you and mr. park?” ailee nudges your thigh with her foot and you let out a light laugh before raising a brow

“what are you talking about?” you arch your back and hiss quietly when you feel a particularly loud crAck

goD that’s good

“you know, when he basically kicked us all out of the room just to help you and your ankle.”

“you weren’t even there when we got kicked out, ailee.” wendy snorts and ailee rolls her eyes

“i know, but still!!”

“i don’t know what stories you guys have concocted but he basically just patched up my ankle for me and that was it.” you shrug while rolling out your pointe shoes

“don’t play dumb, y/n!” lisa calls out from across the room and you twist slightly to look at her “park jimin is a tall glass of water and we are all thirsty-“

“oh my god, you guys!” you interrupt her before she can finish and a couple of the girls burst into giggles “he’s our teacher!”

“i don’t know about you but i’m veRy hot for teacher-“

“it’s unprofessional because we’re his students and we shouldn’t even be talking about him like this-“

“but you have to admit you’ve thought about kissing those lips-“

“do you guys remember that time he yawned and stretched and his shirt rode up a little bit because i definitely do-“

“oh god and he smells so fucking good all the time-“

“and that ass just does noT quit!”

“i would kill like ten people if it meant i could sit on his face.” seulgi mutters as she smooths some tinted chapstick over her bottom lip

“seulgi!” you laugh and peel your leg warmer off jusT to hurl it at her “it’s concerning that you have a set number of people to kill just to sit on someone’s face”

she catches it right before it hits her arm before throwing it right back at you “it’s more concerning that not once have yoU ever openly admitted to thinking that park jimin is insanely attractive-“

“first of all, we should be addressing him as mr. park because he told us to-“ you point out as you slip your leg warmer back on “and secondly, i’m here because i want to become a professional ballerina, not because i want to gawk at my teacher like the rest of you-“

“hey, we wanna be professional ballerinas just as much as you do, but who says we can’t have a little fun?” jisoo giggles before wiggling her eyebrows

“you know, there’s only one logical explanation i can come up with to explain why you don’t gush about mr. park the same way we do.” seulgi sighs as she takes a seat across from you and begins to stretch out her legs

“enlighten me, detective kang.” you can’t help but roll your eyes because wHY are you guys still talking about jimin when you should be talking about,,.,.,. like.,,.,. stretching? or somEthing else related to ballet and noT your teacher

also

on a slightly unrelated note

you and seulgi have kind of become friends? but not really

you guys have a best frenemy kind of relationship if that makes any sense

the two of you are still very much competitive with each other anD will not hesitate to take jabs at each other when the opportunity arises

but other than that you guys sort of get along

except when performances are around the corner because she gets super bitchy about getting whatever role it is she wants

anyways

back to it

“because you have a crush on him.”

you immediately freeze in the middle of tying the ribbons around your ankle

“i’m sorry, i what now?”

“you have a crush on him!” seulgi smirks veRy cockily “think about it! you don’t like it when we talk about him because you want him allllll to yourself and you can’t even fathom the thought of another girl lusting over him-“

and this would be one of those moments where seulgi likes to get under your skin just to get a reaction

you poke your tongue against the inside of your cheek as you take a second to consider the possibility

do you have a crush on your teacher?

he’s mr. park

you can’t have a crush on mr. park because he’s mr. pARK

he’s very strict and controlling and sometimes a little mean like that time he yelled at you in front of the class for being the only who missed a count

but also he can be really sweet and caring and surprisingly funny and you’ll never admit it to anyone for as long as you live but one class you started daydreaming (this was the class he yelled at you about missing the count lol) about what it’d be like to hold his hand and kiss his cheeks and dig your nails into his oh-so broad back as he-

your movements slow down slightly as you think about what happened on the night of the incident

“you really are something, you know that?” he laughs lightly as he smooths the bandaid over your cut

you can’t help but let out a little huff “…is that a good thing?”

he gives your knee a little pat before reaching over a tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear

“miss y/l/n - it’s a very good thing.”

“that is the most ridiculous theory i have ever heard in my entire life-“

“every single time we talk about how attractive jimin is, you get all quiet and blushy in the corner and you neVEr contribute to the conversation-“

“yeah, maybe because there’s a line of professionalism and respect that i need to stay behind unlike yoU guys-“

“oh, and now you’re getting all defensive because you know for a fact that every word coming out of my mouth is TRUE! just admit it, y/l/n, you have a crush on our teacher-“

“i mean, i think i have a crush on mr. park-“ jisoo chips in and you and seulgi immediately turn to glare at her as if to say stay ouT OF IT

“i- you know what, this is just ridiculous!” you scoff and get up off the ground “i’m going to go and get some water to cool off-“

“oh yeah, you’re gonna cool off? is thinking about jimin’s face in between your legs getting you all hot and bothe-“

“jesus ch- lalalaLALALALALA-“you immediately stick your fingers into your ears and start babbling loudly while seulgi starts speaking louder and louDER

“you loVE HIM!!! YOU WANNA KISS HIM ROMANTICALLY!!!” seulgi’s practically shrieking at this point and the other girls are having a hoOT

in fact some of them are chiming in to make fun of you as well

“oOoooh y/n do you wanna hold his hand-“

“do you think about him in class sometimes?? a couple of us have noticed that moony look in your eye from time to time-“

“maybe if you ask him nicely he’ll help you with stretching-“

“y/n, look, this is my demonstration of what you wanna do to mr. park-“ lisa turns around so that her back is facing you and she wraps her arms around herself before sliding them up and down sensually anD making kissy noises

“oh, real mature, lisa-“ you take your fingers out of your ears and wince because woW these girls are loud “okay, everyone shuT UP-“

everyone quiets down a little but they’re still giggling and whispering among each other

“what’s it gonna take for you people to drop this duMB theory??” you cross your arms and raise your brows as you tap your foot on the ground impatiently

“all you have to do is admit that you have a crush on our teacher and i’ll be satisfied.”

“but i don’t have a crush on him!”

“y/n, need i remind you that i’m, like, slightly psychic? because you are totaLLy lying through your teeth right now.” seulgi inspects her nails casually and you let out a quiet huff

okay

you know what

yEs

maybe you do have a crush on jimin

maybe it’s true that you don’t like it when the other girls talk about him because a part of you selfishly wants him all to yourself

maybe everything seulgi’s said is truE

and the whole class obviously knows that you like jimin because a) seulgi is the biggest gossip on the planet and b) even if seulgi said that the earth was flat, everyone would believe it regardless because she iS the top dog around here

and if you admit it then hopefully they’ll leave it alone forever

“alright, fine!” you clear your throat and stand up a little taller “i have a crush on park jimin.” you gasp dramatically and make little jazz hands

you know what

if you’re going to confess you should do it right

you should go aLL out

“in fact, i think mr. park is a complete smoke show. i think he’s the hottest person i’ve ever seen in my entire life, and yes, i have noticed his pillowy lips, and i did notice that time he stretched and revealed his glorious six pack to the world, and i am very much aware that he smells like he stepped straight out of a shampoo commercial, and yes, you’re right, he has a veRY nice ass - and you know what, seulgi? i’ll say this one just for you.” you narrow your eyes and lean forward a little bit “i would 100% love to sit on park jimin’s face because i, y/n y/l/n, am 110% attracted to him.”

seulgi nods slowly and presses her lips together

it almost seems as though she’s stifling a laugh

…which was not the reaction you were expecting

you were expecting her to get all gloaty and i-told-you-so about it

“wow. and now everyone’s gone quiet!” you point out the obvious before crossing your arms

her and the rest of the girls get up off the ground and immediately form a line before getting into first position

and you know exactly what that means

every single hair on your body prickles to life when you hear someone slurping up the last of their drink behind you

“good afternoon, ladies.”

god

“good afternoon, mr. park.” everyone (except for you because you are understandably moRTIFIED) responds politely

you feel like your feet are glued to the ground and you want nothing more than for a black hole to appear and swallow you entirely

“i said, good afternoon, ladies.”

it takes every fibre in your body to twist around slowly and you force yourself into first position

you’re a mere one and a half steps away from jimin and that’s making you more nervous than you already are

you swallow thickly

jimin offers you a sly smile as he runs a hand through his (newly dyed!!) ashy silver hair before taking his sunglasses off

“g-“ your throat closes up as soOn as you try to speak “good afternoon, mr. park.”

you feel like there’s a rock in your stomach

you also feel like you’re about to projectile vomit everywhere

why do bad things always happen to you

WHY

you just-

you just openly confessed that not oNLY are you romantically attracted to your teacher, you are also sexually attracted to your teacher!

great!

good one!

love that energy for you!

you know what

maybe it’s not as bad as you think

maYbe he didn’t hear anything

maybe you’re in the clear and you’re just overthinking it

“would you like to join your peers in line, miss y/l/n?” jimin asks and gestures towards the girls

“yes, sir.” you nod stiffly before quickly heading over to join lisa at the end of the line

the room is dead quiet as jimin sets his belongings down before taking his jacket off

oh god

he’s wearing that thin white shirt that gets a liTtle see through when he’s sweaty-

“how bad was it?” you lean over to whisper to lisa

her face is getting pink from how hard she’s trying to not completely burst into laughter right now

her cheeks are literally tremBLING

“he was here for the opening line and he was here for your final statement, which i think, pretty much summed up your entire speech.”

i would 100% love to sit on park jimin’s face because i, y/n y/l/n, am 110% attracted to him

yep

it’s official

you want to: die

you’re already sweating through your unitard and you guys haven’t done anything

“no talking please, ladies…” jimin hums as he plugs his phone charger into the outlet

maybe you can just pretend like you lost your voice so you won’t have to speak for the rest of eTERNITY

“okay!” jimin claps his hands together before crossing his arms “i’m gonna rock your world-” you’re verRy aware of the fact that he maintains strong eye contact with you the entire time he says that “with some grand jeté’s today. everyone ready?”

“yes, mr. park.” everyone responds simultaneously except for you agAIN

“-es mr. park.” you blurt out at the last second

you stop nervously picking at your chiffon skirt when you see jimin’s eyes flicker down to your hand

oops

surprisingly enough jimin doesn’t jump straIght into the grand jetés right away (he’s taking it easy just for u because he’s still worried about ur ankle)

he makes everyone practice balancing and standing in the final position which is basically just standing up straight on your pointes

also anoTher surprising thing that he’s doing

he said that today was more of a casual class so he’s letting everyone talk amongst themselves while practicing

of course you haven’t said a word because your lips still feel like they’re glued together

also you decided it’d be best if you hung out at the very baCK of the classroom just to attempt to avoid being spotted by jimin

“arms straight… chest out… very good…” jimin slowly makes his way down the back row and you curse quietly when you feel yourself wobble slightly

your eyes widen in surprise when you feel two hands place themselves on your hips from behind

“back straight, miss y/l/n.” jimin reminds you gently before sliding a finger from the small of your back up to the centre of your back “arch here. chest out.”

his other hand slides around so that it’s resting right on your stomach and you feel like your entire body is on fiRE “squeeze your core tight.” he mutters into your ear

you feel your cheeks heat up almost immediately because that should noT have been as hot as it was

christ almighty

get it toGETHER

“you seem a little distracted today, miss y/l/n.” jimin murmurs quietly as he moves to stand in front of you

he leans back a little to look at both your arms before reaching over to raise your left arm a bit “everything alright?”

“everything’s alright, mr. park.” you somehow manage to keep yourself composed even though jimin is basically staring two holes into your soul right now

“mhm.” jimin reaches over and places his pointer finger under your chin before raising your head a little

you lock gazes with him and you notice a little glimmer in his eyes “can’t have you sprain your other ankle because you were too busy thinking about sitting on my face now, can we?”

help me help you make your wishes come tru (aka send me a request)

requested drabbles masterlist

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forever-rogue · 4 years

Note

Hey, i really love your writing :) hope you are doing good. I'm not sure if i can make a request, if not then i'm sorry:) but could you write something about Oberyn and ellaria ( or Just Oberyn is fine to) with the reader being pretty shy and not very talkative, but they have to go to a feast and get uncomfortable. I hope this is alright :)

Thank you so much, kind friend! I went ahead and just used Oberyn for this, but in our hearts Ellaria will always be there! Enjoy 💕💕

So, this turned into something entirely of its own, and is pretty self indulgent, I will not lie. But it’s soft, and I am craving some soft hours 🥺

»»————-　♡　————-««

You played with a loose thread on the edge of your gown, twisting to and fro, eventually creating a bigger and bigger strand until the hem was frayed. A nervous habit, you realized, a bad one, but you couldn’t help it right now. In the midst of this grand feast, you wished you were anywhere but here. You weren’t even sure why your mother and father had made you attend; you literally had just stayed tucked in the back avoiding any and all people as best as you could. There was only one person you desired to see but they were not in attendance.

Your presence really wasn’t needed; as the youngest daughter that seemed to never gain a betrothal or make much of an impact or impression on anyone, you really weren’t there for any reason. But your parents had refused to allow you to remain behind, dragging you along with all your siblings and their spouses. You loathed large, grand events such as this, preferring the quiet comfort of your chambers at home. You could have been reading, knitting, cooking, out exploring the evening wilderness, literally anything rather than this. This was the absolute worst, and you really didn’t even want to speak to anyone.

“Stop fidgeting,” your mother came over and gave your arm a light slap as she looked around to make sure no one was paying attention. Pulling out of her touch, you did your best not to roll your eyes at her, “go out and talk to people. Pretend to be enjoying yourself at least.”

“But I’m not,” you sighed at her, “I told you I wanted to stay at home. I hate parties, all these people I don’t care about that also don’t care about me. Why should I pretend to like them and have fun when it’s so far from the truth?”

“Because you are a member of this family,” she hissed at you, “and you will act accordingly. If you ever have any hopes of getting married, you’d best starting acting at least somewhat pleasant.”

“But what if I don’t want that-”

“It’s not an option,” she insisted, grabbing your arm and forcing you to stand up. You really didn’t want to do that...not with anyone of her choosing anyway, “now get out there, put on a smile, and mingle.”

Before you could argue and say anything in response, she raised a stern eyebrow at you and pushed you towards a large crowd that was standing around and talking. They were loud, boisterous, and clearly had a few too many drinks in them. Knowing that your mother’s eyes were still firmly planted on you, you walked over to them and grabbed a nearby goblet of wine, throwing it down quickly, before attempting to make your way into their conversation. You laughed at a joke that was funny in the slightest, throwing in a few comments here and there.

But as soon as you were sure the coast was clear and you’d given your mother enough of a performance, you chucked the goblet down and parted from the crowd. It wasn’t hard to slip through the large crowds unnoticed and you kept walking until you made your way out of the warm great hall and into the cool evening of the air. The gardens here were beautiful and you eagerly strolled into them, already feeling much better in the company of the flowers and plants versus people.

Spotting a nearby bench, you almost ran over to it before sitting and relaxing, a long sigh escaping your lips. You sat there in silence for a while, listening to the now distant rumble of people and music, intertwined with the sounds of insects and chirping of birds that were still. So much better, you thought to yourself, this is better than people any day.

You were so lost in your own thoughts that you didn’t notice the sudden appearance of the person next to you. Almost jumping out of your skin at the feel of the hand on your thigh, a small bit of giggles met your ears as you turned to find Oberyn Martell grinning at you.

“Oberyn,” you relaxed once you realized it was him, turning your body and practically crawling into his lap. He practically beamed at you as you grabbed his face, giving him a few soft kisses before resting your forehead against his, “my love. I thought you weren’t going to be coming tonight?”

“Let’s just say I can be very persuasive and that sometimes being a prince has its perks. I was able to clear up my schedule and come. Besides,” his large hands were gentle, so tender, as his traced his fingers over the contours of your face, “I couldn’t stay away knowing you would be here. You look beautiful, sweet girl.”

“I’m so glad you came,” you sighed contently, “this night as been awful, but it’s already much, much better. I’ve missed you so much. It’s been nearly a month, and I fear I cannot bear to be apart for so long again.”

“Then we can make it so we are never apart again,” he insisted as you stared at him with wide doe eyes. You’d been...seeing, for lack of a better word, Oberyn for some time, shrouded in secrecy as you tried to figure out how to make this work. He was your love, you knew that much, you’d known that for some time; it had come to you as a revelation shortly after meeting him. And he loved you too, fully completely. But you were from different worlds: you were of one of the great Northern Houses, young, beautiful, and a catch for any man that offered enough of dowry for you. Oberyn was older, already had children by multiple women, was considered wild and untamed, a prince of Dorne (an area that many people, including your family had a disdain for) and yet he was utterly devoted to you.

You’d met by chance almost two years ago, after you’d caught the prince’s eye and he managed to woo you. But it would never work, that was a conclusion you had reached early on, making sure your trysts would be keep a secret. It was since then that you’d made it a point to make yourself undesirable to any man that attempted to court you. It had worked up until this point, but you were sure that your mother and father were starting to catch on, and they’d figure your little plan. Your worst fear was that they would force you into a marriage, and that you’d end up miserable and unhappy for the rest of your life.

For some reason, smart as they were, they never seemed to catch onto the fact that a certain prince was coming up north more and more often, and you spent more and more time away from home at those corresponding times. It was risky, you both knew that from the start, but worth it; it was worth getting to be with the love of your life at any cost.

“Oberyn...” you asked softly, biting your lip as you looked at your lap, starting to fidget with your hands. He quickly grabbed your hands, holding them in his for a moment, before bringing them to his lips and pressing soft kisses to your knuckles, “w-what do you mean?”

“I mean we tell them,” he stated boldly, and you swear you stopped breathing for a moment, “we tell them that we are in love and that we want...we will be married.”

Immediately feeling tears pricking at the back of your eyes, you looked in those dark, honeyed eyes to find that he was speaking truthfully. You wanted nothing more in the world than to marry him and be swept off to Dorne, but still you worried. You shook your head lightly, a few tears cascading down your cheeks, “we can’t...they will be angry, everyone will-”

“It doesn’t matter,” he insisted, reaching up and wiping your tears away, “let them talk and be angry. They cannot stop us, sweet girl. I want nothing more than for you to be my wife, to share my name, my home, my family - everything. I’m tired of hiding, and pretending you do not exist. I am a man grown and you are a woman grown, we are free to make our own choices...”

“There will be consequences...” you trailed off, holding onto his hand for dear life. This was what you had wanted, what you had wanted from the beginning, but you were still worried about what could possibly happen, to him more than yourself. You would never forgive yourself if something happened to him.

“I do care about the consequences,” he promised, “if they want to start a war, let them. I will fight every last war and take down every man in my path if it meant I would be able to spend my life with you.”

“Oberyn,” you looked back at him, his face so unsure of your reaction, and that’s when your mind was made up. If you could not spend your life with him, then you did not want to spend it with anyone. It was him, it was always him. Nodding slowly, you grabbed his face again and kissed him with a searing intensity that was so strong, you’d never quite felt anything like it before. He held you tightly, hugging to his body, afraid that if he ever let go, you would disappear, “let us tell them. A life without you is a life I do not want. I want you and nothing else.”

“Then let us spend eternity together,” he grinned against your lips, feeling a lightness in his heart that he had never experienced before, “I want nothing if it is not with you.”

“I love you,” you whispered softly, nuzzling your nose against, “you and only you.”

“I love you, sweet girl,” he promised, “no matter what may come, I am with you, always.”

#oberyn martell x reader #oberyn x reader #prince oberyn #oberyn martell #prince oberyn x reader #pedro pascal #pedro pascal x reader

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thefossilwhale · 3 years

Text

i filled out this super cool button character profile by @extraordinarymage for sabrina! thank you for making this, it was a lot of fun to fill out <3 the bulk of it is under a cut and oh boy is it long !!!

Short, Quick Reference

Name: Sabrina Wiseman

Pronouns: She/her

Sexuality: Bisexual

Love Interest: Kent

Main personality trait: Confidence

Secondary personality trait: Morbidity

Relationship with Nick: Full of love, haunted by unaddressed guilt and frustration. But mostly full of love.

Nickname for Nick: Saint Nick (used sparingly)

Resentful or accepting?: Slightly resentful

Main strategy (interpersonal, insightful, innovative?): Insightful

Ethical or expedient?: Expedient

GENERAL

Name: Sabrina Larkspur Wiseman

Nickname(s): Sab, used by anyone; Sabby, only Nick and Sally; and, of course, Button for Nick.

Birthday: I think I made her an October Libra for the purpose of a template I did months ago, but I’m not sure! No concrete birthday yet, I’m always very slow to nail down details like this.

Age: 20

Pronouns: She/her

Sexuality: Bisexual

Hair color + style: Blonde. A little past shoulder length, sometimes wavy. Usually a middle part. For Aeon, tied back in a bun.

Eye color: Blue, entirely because of the section of Frank O’Hara’s “Meditations in an Emergency” that goes, “My eyes are vague blue, like the sky...”

Height: 5′5

Piercings: Multiple in each ear, but a couple have started to close.

Tattoos: None yet! Sab likes the idea of a tattoo but is worried about finding the perfect design, whether she’d end up hating it, that the pain might be greater than she expects and she’ll look like a baby in front of her tattoo artist. I’d like to think she eventually consults Sally and/or Glitch to come up with an idea that she falls in love with, but I haven’t come up with what that would be!

Clothing style: Mostly solid colors, not a lot of patterns. Nothing super bright, but a fairly varied mix of pastels, neutrals, dark colors, black. Partial to denim skirts and sweater tops. Ankle boots. Likes a good turtleneck. She’s bolder when it comes to formal wear, and especially loves suits. Big fan of silk and satin.

Since she has a pretty accurate face claim, I’ll link some gifsets I’ve rb’d for appearance ref if you are so inclined.

STATS

I’m always adjusting minor things and swapping scenes around, but these are from my most recent Sab run! Most scores hover somewhere around these values.

Personality:

Confidence: 53%

Humor: 5%

Morbidity: 22%

Resentful: 57% | Accepting: 43%

Strategy:

Interpersonal: 12%

Insightful: 50%

Innovative: 10%

Ethical: 43% | Expedient: 57%

KEY DECISIONS:

What is Nick’s nickname and why?: Saint Nick, used very rarely. It’s a joking reference to the time she thought Santa was an evil Ment out to ruin Christmas, and a point about Nick overdoing it with the cheer. “Saint Nick” is usually code for “I know you mean well, but please mind your own business.” Otherwise, she just calls him Nick.

What is their favorite type of cookie (and its name and why?): Salted caramel chocolate chip! No special name.

What was their initial reaction to Sally hugging them, as kids?: She just froze. That could just be me projecting adult Sabrina onto her childhood self; I don’t imagine that she was as uncomfortable around strangers or quite as cautious back then. But that’s what I’ll stick with.

How did they ace the ASE test?: The in-game option she takes is “My entire life has revolved around strategic avoidance,” but the one about being just plain smart also sounds like her. If Sab has the chance to thoroughly (over)prepare for something, she will do it. Her mind blindness also has her constantly (over)analyzing situations. So, hard work and relentless anxiety!

Did they manage to win their first assignment? How?: Yes, by having Sally block the door. I’ve headcanoned some slight differences in how it plays out, which I wrote about in-depth here. To summarize, Sab thinks of blocking the door as a desperate last resort, not a clever loophole, and she pushes back against Rosy’s praise because she wishes she could have done it the “real” way. Rosy goes from being impressed to being annoyed that she’s willfully missing the point.

What was the primary emotion Button felt during the Aeon bombing (love, gratitude, etc?): Guilt. She feels very guilty about how much Nick has given up for her in general, but I think that in the moment, it’s on a smaller scale. The fact that Nick was on the phone with her when it happened, coming to her rescue like always, becomes emblematic of their whole relationship for her, and she really fixates on that.

Who drove them home from the hospital from and why?: Glitch. Sab responds to her initial text with “Are you sure?”, and is relieved when Glitch takes that as “Yes, please.” She doesn’t relish the idea of being around someone more connected to her family or Nick at that point.

How do they feel about Nick riding around in their mind?: Worried, at first. Just because it’s so unknown and absolutely insane. After seeing Doctor Amari, she’s excited! Sab is thrilled to be a Pollard Five and intends to take full advantage of it. I am not looking forward to seeing how she reacts when that’s taken away from her.

Why did Button agree to do the undercover mission?: To prove she still deserves to be an MIV. Sabrina feels stupid and reckless for putting herself, Nick, and Aeon in this position, but she knows she’s smart, and she hasn’t worked this hard for nothing. She wants to prove what she could do with a normal Pollard Score and make herself too valuable to give up even when she’s back to Zero.

Told Glitch about your mind blindness?: Depends on the playthrough. I’m constantly going back and forth on whether Sab meets Glitch for coffee or wanders the city with Nick in her second chapter 5 slot (after trying to track down Kent). If she does meet Glitch, though, she absolutely tells her; with how touchy Sab is about privacy, she couldn’t stomach not warning Glitch that Nick could hear everything they said.

Figured out K’s secret?: Nope. She finds enough of the clues to be given the “I knew it!” option in-game, but she didn’t actually put it together. Sab is too angry and embarrassed by learning that Kent is an AMO to find any reason to interrogate it. “The random guy I met before school just happens to be a jerk” is a perfectly sound explanation to her.

Found Noh’s clues?: Not at the metro station. Sometimes she sees the Vengeance brooms in chapter 5 (again, depending on the playthrough), but that’s it.

ROMANTIC RELATIONSHIP:

Love Interest: Kent

Why them?: Sab feels an immediate kinship with Kent after learning about the NPO program. It’s kind of funny how quickly he moves from the least sympathetic position in her eyes (Ment who got past me and read my mind without my knowledge) to the most sympathetic (non-powered child of a prominent family aiming a league above where he “belongs”). A lot of new respect for his competence. Her fate is sealed when she realizes that his kindness at the hospital wasn’t him trying to make up for some wrongdoing, but just him being very sweet. (She had scoffed over “You needed help.” But now she’s like, “Oh. He meant that?! Fuck.”)

As they spend more time together, Sab realizes how weirdly similar they are in other ways, too. And she starts to feel safe/secure around him in a way that she’s extremely not used to. Growing up surrounded by Ments, Sab has a lot of issues about being too much, too difficult, needing to “be worthy” of love. So someone like Kent who is not a Ment, who has no “obligation” to care about her, and whose judgement she trusts implicitly? Being around him and being loved by him mean a lot, and I think will go a long way towards helping her reflect on her other relationships!

What are their first impressions of each other?: Okay, there are like 3 first impressions with Kent. First: he’s tall and handsome and secretly adorable, and they have similar career goals, so she’s drafting a five-month plan to woo him and get his number. Second: he’s a lying, self-obsessed loser who owes her many explanations. Third: oh no, the first impression was true! And he’s been continually, selflessly kind to her in spite of her overt hostility. Scratch the five-month plan, because the crush was only fun when it was entirely superficial; now she really, really likes him and that just sucks.

We know that Button makes a good impression on K by stopping for their dogs, but apart from that... I mean, the “we confused each other” from chapter 7 is very apt. Sab has lots of shifting personas, and Kent sees pretty much every one within 24 hours. The prevailing impression before everything gets cleared up is probably just that she cares a lot? About everything? Her stopping for the dogs, how seriously she takes the first assignment, the way she seems so deeply affected by something he said or did that morning. It’s a rare side of her to meet first because she usually pretends to be above everything.

What feature does your Button find most attractive in their RO (ex. appearance, personality, etc.)?: Probably his composure. And his... steadfastness? The way he seems unruffled by anything, his soothing presence. She really admires that about him and finds the calm contagious.

What do they do to spend time together?: Going on drives together! Kent driving while Sab plays songs she thinks he’ll like, talking or not talking. Cuddling on the couch while reading their own separate books. Museum dates. Walking the dogs together.

Do they argue? How do they handle arguments and disagreements? How do they make up?: I imagine that the first month or so of their relationship would be difficult, just because they’re both bad at expressing themselves and not used to relying on other people. Kent kind of negates a lot of Sab’s impulses to get defensive or hostile, so instead of arguments, I think there are more likely to be awkward periods where she’s just stewing in something without addressing it. Most of their fights would be, like, one of them becoming really distant for a concerning number of days until the other tries to awkwardly check in on them.

What does their future look like?: Uhh some random lore: I think eventually they do get married, despite neither of them caring that much about it. Sabrina would be excited to have something to plan, and she knows it would make the people around her happy. They have a long engagement; there’s never really an “official” proposal, just an acknowledgement that yeah, they’ll get married one day, and then eventually they get rings. The engagement is almost Sab’s favorite part, honestly. She likes planning and showing off her ring and calling Kent her fiancé, a lot of fanfare on her part for a wedding that ends up being very modest and chill.

OTHER RELATIONSHIPS (Feel free to go in depth!)

Relationship with Nick: When I first started developing Sab, I thought that with as difficult/prickly as she can be, her relationship with Nick would be worse than it is. Never bad, but certainly strained, with more jealousy/resentment on her side. However, she rejected this. She is resentful, but never towards Nick—she internalizes the negative parts of their relationship so they manifest as guilt instead. And that’s the problem, not resentment. Sab thinks he’s overprotective, but that doesn’t make her angry; it just makes her sad. She wishes things were different and he didn’t feel so responsible for her, but she also doesn’t know how she could manage without him taking on so many of her burdens. So, guilt! So much love, but always looming guilt.

Having Nick in her head has helped. It’s added a new kind of guilt (“I’m a horrible person for being so giddy that people can’t hear my thoughts even though that requires my brother to be in a coma”), but getting inside Nick’s head for once and really feeling his love for her changes things. Makes her feel way more secure, I guess? It’s easier to see her brother as human person, a friend who loves her, rather than a perfect selfless paragon who sacrificed everything to raise her, which is an important shift.

There are also Things happening with self-presentation in the fact that they’re both models, and flirts, and pretend to be shallow. And the ways that they’ve responded to vastly different expectations. And selflessness versus selfishness. But I have no idea how to talk about that yet.

Relationship with Father: Strained and distant. Sabrina doesn’t necessarily blame him for leaving, but she hates how he’s handled it. She’s incredibly frustrated that John insists on keeping them in this miserable limbo of uncomfortable visits, even though moving away was (to her) a tacit acknowledgement that she and her parents are better off without each other. He’s trying to force a relationship that Sab thinks is ultimately harmful for everyone involved. For Nick’s sake, she’s willing to grin and bear the visits, but it never works because John can obviously tell it’s an act. He pushes her, she gets defensive, and so on to infinity.

Relationship with Mother: Like with John, Sab doesn’t resent Hope for the incident itself, or for leaving afterward. It was terrifying, and the idea of being around Hope makes her panic—but she thinks of that as just another irrational anxiety symptom, and she’s trying to work through it. What she does resent Hope for is letting it get to that point at all. Sab is incredibly bitter that Hope will suffer silently to the point of almost killing her (during the incident) and potentially herself (with the BRS), while Sab has no choice but to be completely open. Especially because they’re so similar in that way—she’s almost jealous. “Oh, so your silence is allowed to almost kill me and it’s ‘nobody’s fault’ but I can’t pretend to enjoy a single lunch with Dad without him calling me out for lying?”

And even though she doesn’t hold the incident itself against her, Sab is very hung up on “Why are you never quiet? Why are you always there?” She knows, on some level, that this was not a Personal Judgement against her. But because Hope keeps so much quiet, this is the only honest expression of her mother’s feelings that she can remember! It would take a lot for Sab to believe that Hope was really, genuinely interested in reconnecting with her, rather than just pretending to love her "enough” this time because to do otherwise would reflect poorly on Hope as a mother.

Relationship with Sally: Besties <3 Sally is the only member of the Wiseman inner circle that Sab doesn’t have complicated feelings about. They both have hidden morbid streaks that they bring out in each other, and can laugh about. They both have competitive streaks that work well together because they’re always on the same team. And their wants/needs from the relationship complement each other well, I think. Sally has always felt valued because she’s useful and not because she’s loved, while Sab has always felt smothered by love/care without feeling like she genuinely adds value to other people’s lives. So it means a lot to both of them that they’re able to help each other practically, while also genuinely loving and supporting each other outside of that.

Relationship with Gray: Full of trust and genuine care, but predicated on distance. Sab loves him a lot for being so careful not to cross any boundaries, physical or emotional, with her. She’s grateful that he’s there for Nick in a way that she doesn’t feel she can be. But "I like Gray because he doesn’t push me and is good to Nick” means that any hand he extend makes her defensive, because she’ll either view him as an emissary of Nick or start to panic because their normal routine is being disrupted (she doesn’t tell him about Hope in ch 3, for example).

They get along very well in a friend-of-a-friend sort of way, and bond over being cautious counterparts to Nick. Also, Sab never had a crush on Gray, but she is not immune to tall superhero and thinks it’s fun to fake flirt with him. (You know Isabela’s “You have pretty eyes” routine from DA2? Sab does that to Gray when conversations steer towards things she’d rather not talk about.)

Relationship with Glitch: I’m really excited about these two! They click from the start, and Sabrina feels immediately comfortable around Glitch, which makes her feel distinctly uncomfortable whenever she catches herself. Externally, they have pretty different personalities, but they’re both perceptive and... socially manipulative? aware of their self-presentation?... in ways that they both pick up on right away. So it’s a lot of conversational maneuvering and trying to figure out what the other’s game is, while also genuinely enjoying each other’s company.

Relationship with Kent/Kenna: I could go truly insane here. See the romance section above instead.

Relationship with Kim: Sab wants him to like her sooooo bad. He’s one of the only people to ever really get through to her, re: my headcanon conversation after the first assignment. Authority figures tend to treat her as special, whether that’s negatively because of her mind blindness or positively because she’s such an overachiever. She had no idea how to respond to that not being the case (and didn’t handle it well at first), but chapter 6 solidifies her respect for him.

It also turns Rosy’s opinion of Sab around; he was impressed by her in class but left his office thinking she was self-absorbed and naive. But the bombing is a reality check, and her response is very measured and practical in a way that surprises him.

Relationship with Lev: She doesn’t mind the comparisons to Nick or the “maybe one day they’ll fix you” comments as much as you might think. They aren’t her favorite, but she prefers that sort of thing to the inspirational platitudes belied by coddling that she got from her family growing up. Sab has fond memories of Lev and is grateful that he’s always been kind to her, but doesn’t have any particular feelings apart from that.

Relationship with Clarence: Holds a grudge against him for causing a scene, making her late, and generally being a jerk. But she can’t fault him for being right, after what happened! Mostly she just wants to avoid him, but she’ll be thrilled to lord her success over him if/when she proves herself.

Relationship with Dean Branham: Like Rosy, another authority figure that Sab desperately wants to impress. But without the personal investment she has in Rosy’s validation, more “Oh, this person is in charge, so I should make her like me!” Despite Nick’s and Rosy’s reservations, Sabrina doesn’t really have a problem with being “strongarmed” or manipulated into cooperating; for now, she figures Branham was just doing her job and respects her tactics.

Relationship/attitude towards Ments in general: Mostly just uncomfortable and wary around them. Sab doesn’t want her mind read, and she figures that no Ment wants to be forced to read it either. So she has a pretty strict “no Ments” rule for close personal relationships (excluding Nick, Sally, and Gray, of course. But only Nick really counts because he’s the only one who can hear her thoughts whenever she’s nearby). Not out of hatred or resentment, just because she knows it will be easier for everyone in the long run.

Do they have any other important relationships, past or present? (Relatives, friends, etc.?): Not many, but yes! Sab dated around a lot in the 2 years before Aeon (more like year and a half, because she completely shut it down once she was more focused on preparing for the MIV program), but there are 2 relationships that were formative/important for her. A high school sweetheart, and someone Sab met through modeling. She doesn’t keep up with her high school ex, but the model is her best friend outside of Sally and Nick, and they still keep in touch! I’m still developing them/the relationships, and I’ll probably post more about them someday. They’re fun!

PERSONAL BIO

Describe their personality: Confusing and contradictory. She has two main modes that confuse people who meet both (e.g., Kent). She’s either cold, stuck-up, and sometimes hostile, OR she’s charming, frivolous, and sometimes flirty. Mode 1 is tense but stoic and inexpressive; mode 2 is seemingly relaxed but very posed and insincere. Mode 1 is for when she feels uncertain or has no agenda apart from “get to point B”; mode 2 is for when she’s more comfortable or trying to manipulate someone. Her actual personality is a bit closer to the second, but she doesn’t pretend not take things seriously or hide when she’s annoyed.

Strengths: Analytical, methodical, detail-oriented. Very driven and hardworking. May not always act like it, but does have social skills/charisma; a great liar, if you can’t read her mind. Unfailingly loyal and loving to her favorite people, so so so warm and affectionate and supportive if she really loves you. Very perceptive.

Weaknesses: Way too proud. Can be petty and vindictive. Self-absorbed (she doesn’t mean anything by it, but it’s hard for her to see past herself sometimes). Stubborn, hates being wrong. And... emotional isn’t the word, but strong negative emotions can really cloud her judgement. It ties into her being proud, petty, and stubborn; if she’s really upset about something, she can cling to that emotion instead of re-evaluating it or moving forward.

Phobias: From this ask about the phobias that are planned to show up in-game, there are a few that I could see fitting Sab, but I want to wait to see how they’re implemented before I fully commit. Which is very metagame-y, I know (and I am very metagame-y about IF), but “fear of X” is so broad that it really does depend on when/how it manifests in the text.

That being said, agoraphobia is almost a lock; crowds do make Sab very anxious if she can’t keep track of everyone within a certain distance, and if she can’t leave when she starts feeling antsy. Claustrophobia is a maybe. The choice that triggers it (in chapter 4, about hating MRI machines) suits Sab, but I’m not sure if she hates MRI machines because she hates tight spaces, or if it’s more related to her general anxiety about hospitals, medical tests, etc. Which she definitely has!

What activities/club did they do in school?: She avoided anything group-oriented as far as possible. She took piano (maybe violin?) lessons and did recitals, but wasn’t in orchestra. The one exception was maybe National Honor Society or some equivalent, which she would have joined for her resume’s sake. And I think she would have tutored!

Where do they escape to when they need space?: A little used library corner, where she can people watch without being seen/heard.

How do they feel about/cope with their mind blindness?: Sab hates it but tries not to dwell on it. She knows that it’s no one’s fault, and she mainly just tries to... minimize it? Drown out her thoughts, limit her contact with Ments. And, least healthily, very rigidly managing herself. Because there’s so much of her that exists outside of herself, without her control, she tries to either filter or completely suppress everything else. Part of why she got into modeling, she can perform and be perfect and have total control over the final product of her body in the photographs for whatever campaign. Some Day This Will Be Better. But definitely not where she is in current canon.

How has your Button changed since the Incident with Hope?: Developed many new anxieties and disorders and syndromes :) She also became way more self-conscious, as in literally conscious of and way more tightly monitoring herself, what she’s thinking, what she’s expressing, how she’s sitting, etc. Less emotive face, more rigid posture.

If they weren’t an Aeon student, what would they be doing?: Sab would have beaten herself up forever if she “proved everyone right” by avoiding Unity/Ments entirely, so she’d want to stay in the family business somehow. She probably would have ended up doing scientific research on mental agility. Maybe even working for Mirrortech or some other biotech company, which I imagine would have been an interesting conversation to have with the family.

RANDOM FACTS:

Zodiac sign: Like I said, I assigned her Libra months ago for the sake of a template. But I don’t know enough about astrology to commit. Libra or Leo, probably.

Hobbies: Music, reading poetry, “cooking” (i.e., sitting on the counter and not helping while Nick makes dinner)

Likes: Watching other people (Nick) play video games, dressing up, taking long showers/baths, dark chocolate with caramel, back hugs

Dislikes: Being patronized, hot weather, going to the doctor, driving, doing anything she is not good at

Type of bedsheets: Bamboo.

Drink of choice: Cucumber mint lemonade! For hot drinks, some kind of caramel coffee. For alcohol, she refuses to get drunk because she’s terrified of having even less control of her mental broadcast, but at home/around people she trusts she’ll have a glass or two of wine. Doesn’t know enough to be picky, but doesn’t like it too sweet.

Favorite food: Probably some pasta dish Nick makes with asparagus and tomatoes and a lot of garlic.

Favorite color: Like a light turquoise!

Favorite music: Music to her was another mind-shielding tactic before anything else, so she tends to like upbeat-ish electronic/pop stuff. Catchy and repetitive, and/or with lots of personality to drown out her own thoughts. On the other end of the spectrum, she does have a soft spot for crackly, lo-fi, old or old-sounding slow songs—something about fuzzy recordings simulating a weak telepathic signal.

Favorite season: Hmm, spring and autumn are both good. She likes either side of winter.

Anything else you’d like to share: My heart and a long, fulfilling marriage, with anyone who reads all this 💍

#wow this is so long. insanity luv lit ral insanity #this was super helpful for articulating certain things about sab's character so it's already done its job #pls do not feel pressured to read Thousands of words about sabrina my beloved. but if you read all or even some of this <333 a kiss for you #why am i embarrassed to overshare about my own ocs on my own blog. i live here #oc: sabrina wiseman #also this was very much a stream of consciousness deal but i tried to go back and make it comprehensible. good luck all ye who enter here

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