#but broke them off to try and seem less imposing | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

luchicm04 · 2 months

Text

Lost in the forest - part 21

Masterlist

Summary: More politics and discussions are on the way. However, it seems the canon events are starting to take place.

Pairing: Senju Tobirama/Original Female Character

Tag: #lost in the forest fic

posted on ao3

Word Count: 2.9k

Overall warnings: canon-typical violence, adult content, time skips, angst, kidnapping

Her eyes are swollen, she cannot deny it with a certain camera reflected in her small bureau next to her bed, among parchments and ink that completely clashes with the type of environment that she was forced to get used to when she realized her sad fate, still surprised by the durable type of battery after two years.

She sighs at the bitter presence that settles at the foot of her door like a ghost not at all empathetic and oblivious to her feelings. “You had them, didn’t you?” Karen breaks the silence without stopping to see what she doesn’t want to disappear.

Tobirama doesn’t comment anything.

“I suppose the cell phone had no salvation... although I have to admit that the way you put it together was almost similar if it weren’t for the fact that you broke the screen. It almost looks like you didn’t do anything to it.” The woman turns to look at the person who still doesn’t share anything of his mind. On the contrary, he crosses his arms insolently, as he usually is around her.

“...”

“Aren’t you curious?” Karen sighs without making an effort to understand so much about this guy, getting up to take the only survivor of her technology and gently turn it on. “This is a camera. It’s used to take photos and I’m glad you didn’t break it.”

Tobirama looks proud and haughty, unwilling to get close.

“Unlike the cell phone,” she looks at the mess still in the bag. “It is resistant, and it only serves for taking images... to remember.”

“Mph...” an ironic laugh from the man.

“It is normal that you are curious, I will not judge you.” She gets tired of trying to have less hostility about it, only because of the value of what this detail really meant to her heart... although cold, it was right to that distant wound that was caused by the absence of her family and being torn from her world.

Her life.

“I am not a foolish civilian.”

“It’s not foolish... to be a civilian,” she huffs with a light puff of cheeks. “Two years here... I think I’ve already proven my worth.”

“I do not think so.”

“Come on, I just want to smooth things over,” the civilian complains with clear annoyance radiating. Their conversations are never kind or cordial, a notable thing about this time. Clear evidence that she no longer sees them as her kidnappers, especially not with this demonstration. “I know that you are behind these coming back to me... thanks to you, I saw my family.”

“Hashirama asked me to do it,” the imposing albino pleasantly excuses with a blunt comment.

“But you gave in,” she sighs with dignity. “If you are curious about technology, I can help you with some things. I’m not a specialist.” She continues rambling by turning on the screen a little. She sees that those austere red eyes shine, but it stops when he sees that she noticed.

“I am not interested, I told you so,” the shinobi snorts indignantly. “Hashirama says that today he will need your help in some new concepts, also... today will be the first course,” the shinobi clumsily adds at the end in neat English. “On first aid and evacuation organization that is has been worked without your help.”

“I see,” Karen sighs seeing that, although she moved away from her activities a little, she was just beginning to be called to do other ones. She turns off the camera to leave it as the most valuable object of her entire existence. “Then let’s go.” She blinks at the light cough of the calm man.

She smiles, seeing that he is still looking at the camera, but she won’t say anything if he doesn’t dare to accept his curious side. In this aspect, he is a lot like Hashirama. She is sure of it. “By the way, before I forget... thanks for bringing my things,” she states to smile slightly at the person who remains as her escort, turning to continue her way away from her bedroom.

The sky is cloudy. Summer is almost over as evidence that this year is once again getting out of her hands. She smiles... her anniversary is not as sad as before.

Karen hopes that maybe... she can one day think of this place as her home, even if her family isn’t with her.

──

Hashirama blinks, looks quickly at Tobirama and then smiles at her. “You are welcome,” the leader accepts when she clearly thanked him for returning her objects back. Karen raises her eyebrow at such a clumsy reaction in the middle of a meeting of processes that would begin to move.

The civilian sighs. “You didn’t know, right?”

“Yes?” Innocent with a nervous laugh, the older man remains firm in his own lie, although it is obvious that he did not... in her eyes, which makes her discreetly palm her face.

“Tobirama?” The woman turns to the person who is like a statue.

He doesn’t comment on anything as a simple statue that doesn’t feel like socializing.

“It’s not something we should worry about, Karen, I’m glad you received your things. Tell me, how do they work?” Hashirama immediately gets the youngest out of trouble with ease, shining with detour away from the serious plan for the following year.

You can tell that he is taking this rapidly... like a leader who doesn’t like paperwork too much.

“Okay, I’ll pretend I believe you.” The woman raises her hand in a symbol of peace. The room is huge, not avoiding sitting on the floor where the table is placed. The leader does the same to approach with an excited gesture. “I didn’t bring it, but I can explain it to you if you come to visit me.”

“Oh...”

“I’d like to introduce you to my family,” she smiles excitedly, a little lighter than before. She didn’t think that in this time of interaction, she still felt chains that bitter her existence, dragging along part of her first bad impression.

Karen smiles, beginning to talk about how little she understands about how technology works, because deep down she never thought about technical details. She was just satisfied with their correct functioning, and understanding the basics so that things turned out the way she remembers they should be.

For the first time, deviating greatly in terms and things from her place of origin.

Her old world.

──

Tobirama is dissatisfied with this proposal declared in the middle of the meeting. Karen sees that there is something emotional in all this, despite the fact that they are trained shinobi who almost drown her in the atmosphere they usually send out and it brings back bad memories.

She feels the tension differently, which makes her take an involuntary step back from such austere rejection.

“It’s the first step, Tobirama.” Hashirama looks firm, not irritated not bothered by the refusal. “That’s why I wanted to talk about it with you two first. I plan to send the letter tomorrow.”

“It can be any clan... why them?” The albino crosses his arms without moving from his place, a force of will that no longer surprises her is carried, which makes her sigh at being the intermediary in all this.

“From what I understand, the Uchihas are the ones who you are mainly at war with, right? I think I see the logic of them being first,” the civilian accepts, shaking off the primordial fear by raising her chin and placing herself right in the middle of the brothers.

The albino frowns to look between them. “You do not understand.”

Karen doesn’t take a step back. “It’s something I’ve been battling during this time. You never answered my questions about it.”

“It is something that has been around for a long time.” Hashirama is the one who answers. “It began with our ancestors.”

“Then it’s practically something you don’t remember... that you have inherited,” the civilian blinks, understanding almost the entire concept.

“It is a matter of pride. The Uchihas have taken everything from us.” Tobirama, although calm, looks sad in those huge, furious red eyes.

“I think both parties have taken away the same thing... that normally happens in war, sometimes even the initial concept is lost, dragging many lives into the shadows of endless battles.” Karen remembers the history of her own world. “Taking the first step does not mean being weak, but rather opening yourself up to the possibility of showing future generations that there is something other than war.”

“You are a civilian, ” Tobirama insists firmly.

“I told you once, one that knows about war,” Karen replies. “Hashirama, this proposal is complicated not only for your clan, but for them as well. Are you aware of everybody you have in your favor and everyone you don’t?” She blinks curiously.

Because it is one thing to be idealistic and another to have the foundations, along with the possibilities that this opens up.

The rejection of his people, the loss of trust and everything that a good leader has as support, being lost due to a bad decission.

Furthermore, she has heard from Mikami that the Uchihas have broken up families... indlucing the brothers’.

“I know what the risk is,” he says, standing firm to look at her. “That is why I came to talk to you about it.”

“You are just notifying us,” Tobirama bites bitterly.

“It’s good that you have approached us, since you will need firm support in case there are doubts or recriminations about it.” The woman sighs, looking between the two of them. “Removing the blood, the history between you is difficult, but if there is a possibility for new generations to train, not to fight a battle whose beginning has been lost, but to work on missions like those we analyzed a long time ago... it will be an advance.”

“You make it sound too easy,” Hashirama complains, sitting drily without any care.

“It will not be.”

“I know, but... it’s my dream.” The leader looks at her from his comfortable sitting position, looking for some indication of doubt that every time he touches on this topic, he fears finding in her civilian eyes.

“You said it,” Karen accepts. “A very noble one, let me tell you,” she complements after a moment of silence. “Tell me, do you think they will accept?”

“I hope so. Madara, he may be headstrong... but I don’t think he has abandoned his dream, ” the leader looks nostalgically at his hands, sinking into his memories. “Besides, his brother has been unwell since the last battle.”

“Tch...” Tobirama just stands harshly next to him. Karen sighs to look at him with a slight frown because at this moment, Hashirama needs all the support when taking this step, one that she has been thinking about since he told her about his situation and his dream.

She can be depressing... a bit selfish, but this world has welcomed her in its cold and distant way, unintentionally becoming close to such a noble character as the brilliant Hashirama, which makes her sigh. “We can use that to our advantage. I understand that the Senju clan has monopolized much of medical matters, right?”

“Yes?” Hashirama raises his eyebrow at her comment.

“Do not you dare,” Tobirama bites her point.

“It’s just insurance to listen to our plan. The deal that you surely have planned, Hashirama.” Karen ignores the squeeze of the albino on her shoulder that, although it seems hard, is surprisingly soft. “Offer a medical exchange in a neutral place to help him... because I hope he hasn’t died yet.”

“No... I know he hasn’t.” The leader now understands her point, standing up quickly. “But I know he doesn’t have much left.”

“Okay. And before that, are you sure that he can be saved with your intervention? ” The girl swiftly asks because she doesn’t want this to be a reinforcement after the war now has a recent motivation, like the death of the enemy leader’s brother at the hands of the Senju... right?

“Yes, it is a wound similar to Masato’s,” the leader remembers firmly, as if he knew all the names of the clan, something that is lost in civilian life, but of little importance.

“Good, because I don’t want it to be used as a new war standard bearer in your hands,” the civilian sighs easily. “Tobirama...”

“I do not agree... but I told you a long time ago that I will support your decisions,” the albino states firmly and although with a reluctant tone, he looks honest. “I will not leave you alone.”

Karen sees that there is some kind of promise between the two, which makes her presence in this place somewhat lost for a few seconds. “Well... having this in mind, it would be good to send the letter now with a time and place. If they present themselves, then the attempt at negotiation will be accepted. If not, well... we must find another way of look out for the future, right?”

Hashirama smiles to take a step with open arms to her spot, tensing her for a few seconds and if it weren’t for Tobirama’s intervention, it would be an embarrassing moment that would bring a small flashback that she didn’t know it could still erupt with the slightest indication of a hug.

“Uh... I’m sorry.” Hashirama looks sad, realizing that she made a kind of horrified face. Karen coughs to shake her head.

“No... no problem... and don’t waste time, that brother’s life is important for our plan, right?” The girl points out, discarding her tight heart to let it go towards her office. Tobirama frowns. “Well, with this finished... I’ll leave,” she sighs easily with an idea in her mind.

Visiting Mikami shouldn’t be that difficult... ignoring any kind of emotion that bubbles up for a few seconds... without paying attention to what’s in the background.

Karen prefers to be blind.

It’s healthier.

──

Karen did not physically participate in each step of the exchange, she was left aside, but the consultations were increasingly longer, uninterrupted and constant that she even slept in the main house with various papers due to the fatigue of the long-lasting discussions of a political tug-of-war.

Not only with that external and enemy clan, but also with those who said that there was a lot to pay... for the memory of the fallen and the blood that flows between them.

But the search for peace was firm in every order of Hashirama, notable for imposing himself even though most of the council was against it. As a civilian, she interfered several times from her point of view and although she does not have the experience that many possess in this place, she knows about history, concepts and things that may be useful.

“Do you think the war will end?” Mikami is next to her, as a regular visitor in the house she has been using to stay since she was caught. She usually bumps into her during a few moments of rest, when the two most important men of the clan go to do their own jobs.

The babbling of a baby is the only thing that makes her happy and brings her back to the present. He is almost two months old and although she knows it can’t be seen, she notices that he is intelligent. Little Matsuo aims to be lively like many of the children she has seen in the clan.

Even more than the boy who usually visits her and she knows has become Hashirama’s disciple to be a doctor. Masarato has successfully completed his first aid training along with a direct pass to specialize.

Something that very few do.

“They’re working on it,” the civilian sighs with the little she knows.

“I see,” her friend looks at the baby. “I hope so.”

“I’m glad to hear that from you...” The woman huffs calmly with the baby in her arms, sleepy from so much rocking. “There are many who think otherwise.”

“Well, perhaps. Although I lost my family by their hands... if it ensures that Matsuo does not have to fight, that is fine...” She sighs with a soft but painful tone that she notices from her kunoichi companion, which makes her tighten her grip on her shoulder.

“I know it’s difficult. Even Tobirama and Hashirama are fighting to leave behind what has happened. However, it is an opportunity for future generations.”

“I know. And if Hashirama-sama needs me after my rest ends... I will be there with pride, especially if he achieves peace.”

“It will be difficult to adapt, but I have faith that you will manage to get used to it when the ceasefire is confirmed,” she smiles with a word that, although she cannot adapt it in this langauge... Karen has stopped speaking a lot in English because she deals more and more with people other than the Senju brothers, one thing that she will not point out despite the time.

Which makes her look at the sky with excitement in her chest... because after so much work, conflicts and so on, hearing that peace will be formally signed at a neutral point was exciting. However, why would she have to go?

Karen didn’t know what she would witness... the beginning of a dream that would become a will.

The future of the will of fire... and the Village Hidden in the Leaves, a story that will make its way little by little.

Oblivious to the true weight of her actions, because if she realized... she would notice that there are changes. Two Uchiha brothers and two Senju brothers would be the main protagonists in this dramatic adjustment.

An attempt at peace.

A/N: A chapter that took me a long time to finish, but here it is. Karen has inadvertently made an adjustment to everything that supposedly happened. Of course, she doesn’t know where she is, so she just practically used everything in favor to confirm something that she supposes would take longer (it isn’t said exactly, but Hashirama and Madara make peace long after Izuna’s death), but the poor thing is just a civilian.

Now, with this said, what will happen next? Will Konoha be as it should be? What will the Uchihas be like with a civilian? ...I don’t know, but will find out soon 😀 and in the meantime, our dear girl has already gotten used to speaking the language that she hardly uses hers.

So there will be almost no bold highlighting from now on... yoo-hoo!

Author-chan out!

#lost in the forest fic #warring states period #angst #senju tobirama #tobirama x reader #tobirama x oc #ocs #hashirama senju #naruto #naruto shippuden #naruto fanfiction

4 notes · View notes

herohikara-wol · 2 years

Text

FFXIV Write 2K22 - Prompt 6

Onerous

Hero’s preparing for his Eternal Bonding Ceremony to Zenos as per Garlean Tradition, and has an echo memory far more invasive than normal.

TW: No dead naming, but Hero’s Echo Memory does out someone who’s post-transition and that can be emotionally upsetting on its own. The story does take care to use proper pronouns once it’s addressed, but do be aware.

An Eternal Bond was about love, at least from Hero’s perspective. You love someone, you make a commitment to be with them through everything. He was quickly learning that’s not how bonding worked for royalty. Ceremony after ceremony was giving the viera a lingering headache rivaling the pain he felt from a bad echo flashback. Every time he thought he understood, there was something he was doing wrong.

Of course, his future groom’s father was not helping. Varis was an imposing wall of a man during the best of times, but now? He was just nit-picking. “Back straight, you need to make fluid graceful movements. Every eye in the room will be upon you.”

Hero grit his teeth and tried again, trying to stiffen up and move gracefully at the same time. When he heard Varis inhale sharply through the nose again? Hero finally whirled about on his heel. “What? Say it! Come out and say it. I know you don’t think I’m good enough to be here but for fuck’s sake at least have the decency to tell me the truth instead of piling restriction upon restriction on my every move!”

Apparently he caught the older man off guard, because Varis’ eyes widened and his nostrils flared in a distinctly Emet-Selch-as-Solus way before he regained his composure. “I assure you, that is not my intent. After all that has happened in the Empire, I- I suppose I want this to be perfect so my detractors have less cause for complaint. In trying to do so, I must seem like an over-critical parent to you.”

Thankfully Zenos wasn’t in the room, else he’d be willing to cut the tension between them with a knife. Moreso when Hero suddenly swooned, a memory of Varis’ past bubbling to the surface.

A young Garlean woman sat in the same room Hero was in now, staring at herself in the mirror decorated in wedding finery with disdain. She raised a single fist toward her reflection only to startle out of it when the door opened behind her. “Regula? You shouldn’t be here, it’s bad luck.”

The dashing man behind her was Regula? Then who was the bride? “So is smashing mirrors,” he said a name but the memory itself seemed to drown it out. As if the name had been wiped away. “All this pomp and ceremony doesn’t suit me, and that dress doesn’t suit you.”

“It is traditional.” She replied, sounding almost broken inside. “At least while the country still sees me as their princess.”

“You would be a much more charming prince.” Regula reached out to her and Hero was starting to understand. Not her. Him. Him long ago before Solus broke him. “Have you picked a name yet?”

“For myself or for the baby?” Ah, that would do it. That was the complicating wrench in the matter. No wonder he was angry enough to smash a mirror.

“Yourself, I hate calling you by a name that isn’t yours. I love you, I want to support you no matter what.”

“Varis. I found it in one of the baby name books, I- I think I like that one.” Now that Hero thought about it, he was seeing Varis’ back but not his face. Never his face. This was a memory he didn’t deserve to see, a private moment that should have stayed as such. A curse of his blessing once more.

“Varis then.” Regula smiled and reached out to pull his future spouse close, “I Regula, do promise to take Varis yae Galvus to be my loving husband. To have and to hold, to honor and cherish, to support and protect. Until my last breath.”

“Regula- you don’t know that grandsire will put me in the line of succession.”

“If he doesn’t, he’s a damned fool.”

Varis seemed to soften up, stepping forward. “Fine, I- Varis, do take Regula sas Hydra, to be my loving husband.” Varis repeated Regula’s vows, word for word, closing them with a chaste and lingering kiss. “You know how many traditions we’ve broken, right?”

“I don’t need tradition, I need you and your happiness. That’s all I’ll ever need.”

Hero snapped back to himself on the floor, a medicus hovering over him as Varis paced circles about the room. “I’m fine, I’m fine- echo memory, happens all the time.” He noted it was Varis’ personal medicus too, an odd show of care from a man who only showed love through the most subtle ways.

“A memory?” The medicus left as Varis swallowed hard, his eyes locking on Hero’s own with an intensity that made Hero uncomfortable. “What kind of memory?”

“I think it was your wedding day.” Varis swallowed again and looked torn between making excuses and just silencing Hero permanently when Hero held up a hand. “I heard Regula vow to love you until death, Varis. I promise you, that is the only name I will ever know you by. You’re my future father in-law and I’m starting to understand why you’re pressing me so hard about tradition.” He chewed his lip to try to find the right words, “are you worried that if Zenos and I break from tradition we’ll suffer for it?”

“I-” The larger man sat down quietly in one of the chairs lining the room, letting out a sigh that seemed to rob half his height from him. “I wish I could so easily blame everything that’s happened on Regula and I forgoing tradition and making our own rules together. Except I wouldn’t trade those choices for this whole bloody empire. I had him for twenty wonderful years, and though I wish I could turn back time and keep him selfishly at my side, I am not my grandsire. I will not moor myself to a fixed point I cannot change. I can only try to keep moving forward, take care of our son, and create the future we both longed to share.”

Hero nodded and stood quietly, “I’m sorry my stupid echo invaided your privacy like that, but thank you anyway. I think I do understand better now. Shall we try the rehearsal again? I promise I’ll take it more seriously.”

“Honestly? I hated practicing for it too. Worst three weeks of my life. I’d take having to go back and do military grunt work over this bloody pomp and ceremony any day.” The emperor cracked a smile and sat upright properly again, “besides, Zenos probably won’t care a whit if you remember the steps so long as you’re his by the end of it. Keep that in mind and you’ll probably do fine.”

“As you say, your Radiance.”

#tw: being outed against your will #FFxivWrite2022 #FFXIVWrite #My Writing #FFXIV Fanfiction

19 notes · View notes

icharchivist · 1 year

Note

i agree that belial shows some self control and he seems to care about us on some level yknow. and he is obviously capable of caring about people like lucilius. so maybe hiding behind him and having him protect us from these scary horny ladies would endear us to him and maybe he wont kill us on the spot. hell mock us, yes but maybe not immediately go for broke. also i fully admit that i am more attracted to belial than enyo or hecate and ill thank you not to judge me for it.

yeah right!!!

like despite his horniness, it's his capacity for love that define Belial, just, twisted this far away because since he's not loved back he is twisting himself like that. But ultimately it's rooted in love and devotion.

Compared to Enyo who at least is only here for the thrill it gives her, and eventually she would love her prey, but it's as a prey. Her dynamic with Athena is clearly homoerotic too for example but it's not one of devotion, it's one of sadism per se. And when she sees us as a prey and end up being interested in us as one, it is specifically to hunt us down.

(and like more Power to her i do love Enyo and would agree to be stepped on by her, on some conditions).

Hekate seems to be more similar to Enyo but much hornier. Because Enyo at least is mostly getting off of her own sadism. She gets off on the pain she imposes others. Hekate seems to have a much more specific approach to it that i don't want to describe but yaknow!!

Belial's interest into MC is less about making us suffer and getting off on our suffering. He wants to play with us and corrupt us, but not kill us. And even in the whole quest line that is all about him encouraging us down a path that would make us his puppet, he does actually try to discourage us from doing so. (probably very reverse psychology of him but still!!!! he keeps telling us we should stop at any time, he pretends it's because he cares, once we're too far gone he's super happy about it, but he's even more into it once we break free from his hold. It's so. so!!)

coughs anyway i could actually totally see Belial at least pretend to protect MC for a while if MC hid behind him like, yaknow. Though eventually he might tease us by turning around to us and going "hey don't you want a word in all of this" and trying to bring us up front. like his summon call!!!! sometimes putting us in danger just for funsie, but only as long as he's control and would push back if there's a real danger.

idk i feel like, Belial is really calculated even when he gives in to his vices and while being horny is most of his apparent personality this is not all that's on his mind when he interreacts with people. He PRETENDS it is but he has more in his mind. Hekate and Enyo don't seem to have this distance with their horniness and they never seem to really resist their vices so it seems more dangerous.

... But yes since we're guilty of the "horny for Belial" crime we may not be the best people to really differentiate all of them.

still, even if he ends up betraying me i'd rather be killed by him!!! i've seen what happens when he goes full on with his plans, and i can imagine what happens if Enyo and Hekate goes full on with their plans,, and i'm taking Belial, no doubt over here. smh!!

#ichareply #anonymous #ichafantalks gbf

6 notes · View notes

theseventhoffrostfall · 2 years

Note

One thing that always bothered me about the Atom Cats and 4 in general is the over prevalence of power armor. While 4 improved how power armor feels-- you actually feel like you're in some kind of massive walking tank instead of slapping on a piece of metal--I didn't like how it cheapened it through use of fusion cores and everyone being able to use it. i would have preferred that it would be far rarer in-game, didn't use fusion cores, and you needed to find a way to actually train to use it instead of Mr. Smith the dirt farmer running inside your end-game armor suit and running around in it.

But back to the Atom Cats. I like the greaser idea and the fact that they hang out in a garage gave me the idea they would be these worshipers of Pre-War car culture. They collect and restore car parts, motorcycles, and all of these vintage advertisements and magazines. They'd use car lingo and slang the same way the Triggermen would pick up mafia slang from old movies and tapes. They might not use it correctly and they sound funny when saying it, but it wouldn't be "lol goofy beatniks" but more or less people who revere a culture that deeply speaks to them.

The Atom Cats love cars because of the freedom they represent. They would hear how folks would go all over the country in these giant chrome machines, how some people used them as "homes" (misinterpreting the idea of people pulling trailers around), and how the Pre-War government, in a bid to enforce oil rations, actually impounded and broke up people's cars to keep them off the road. They reason that most people are stuck in the Commonwealth because they have nowhere else to go or anything to take them. After all, you can't just walk a thousand miles to another state without expecting to get shot, kidnapped, or worse. If people had cars, they reason, they would have the freedom to go anywhere and do anything.

Rather than a suit of power armor, their pride and joy would be an actual pristine, modified Corvega that uses a fusion core engine to operate. You could help them complete the car, or steal the plans and sell them for a gigantic profit.

Oh, yeah, actual cars would be far better. For the reasons you mentioned, plus the factor of the "why the hell aren't people building cars" question being answered. Also, cool easy-rider chill types like the atom cats are a better fit for cars than hulking war machine exoskeletons, considering they don't seem particularly militant in any sense normally.

As a side note about power armor, I know 4 didn't even mention the enclave by name when discussing things involving the enclave, probably because they were shy after people criticized the enclave being in 3, but it is weird that no remnants show up. They don't have to be a repeat of NV's or anything, just like a small state on the edge of the map that's imposing order, being somewhat productive, maybe trying to recapture a bit of the "spirit" of pre-war America, and probably hiring out some of their troops as mercenaries, which causes friction with the competing gunners. Ideally, for me, their armor would actually just be regular in-game armor (with a host of perks and stat boosts and bears its own weight when equipped) kind of like in 3 and NV, rather than power armor on a frame using a fusion core, to underscore how much more advanced and streamlined it is.

2 notes · View notes

ecoamerica · 2 months

Text

youtube

Watch the American Climate Leadership Awards 2024 now: https://youtu.be/bWiW4Rp8vF0?feature=shared

The American Climate Leadership Awards 2024 broadcast recording is now available on ecoAmerica's YouTube channel for viewers to be inspired by active climate leaders. Watch to find out which finalist received the $50,000 grand prize! Hosted by Vanessa Hauc and featuring Bill McKibben and Katharine Hayhoe!

20K notes · View notes

snow-system-wol · 18 days

Text

A final(?) farewell to the Rising Stones -- for now, at least. (Lost, but not without an anchor)

Ao3

It felt odd to leave Sharlayan, after staying put for so long. Perhaps it felt longer than it was, though. It was the most time he'd spent indoors in a very long while, and the passage of time became a bit…odd with that.

A part of S'ria felt guilty, knowing that this gathering was delayed by him specifically. G'raha would certainly not have let him try to go before he was ready, though. Even with someone else guiding him, there was the concern of how much using an aetheryte fatigued S'ria – and whether warping him across the world would be detrimental to his health. Generally speaking, it was not a recommended activity when under duress.

But he felt well enough, and this gathering should not be put off any longer, so he would bear any discomfort of traveling for a single day.

S'ria felt tired and short of breath upon arriving in Revenant's Toll, rather wishing there was a place to travel where he wouldn't have so many eyes on him mere moments after warping in. It made him feel like he needed to completely stifle any negative reactions, and that made it even more exhausting to experience them.

His chest hurt a bit more, his leg was bothering him after the jump, but they had arrived. S'ria could only hope the amount he leaned on G'raha was not terribly noticeable – though it was surely a hope for the impossible, with how unsubtle it was. He was fairly limping, to put it plain.

Perhaps a cane or crutches would've done him well, but he also wasn't meant to be using upper body strength to that extent either – if only Zenos could've been a touch more considerate while nearly killing Fray.

Passing from a civilian space to the Rising Stones itself still yielded imposing and overwhelming amounts of company, but it was no longer strangers that had their eyes on him.

Really, it wasn't as though it was a secret, but they had all come to the conclusion that making S'ria's degree of vulnerability public knowledge would be ill-advised indeed. As unlikely as it would be for anyone to try and kill him, those around him remained cautiously vigilant.

Any wishes for a calm entry were somewhat dashed once his arrival was noticed – those that had not seen S'ria since before the final battle broke into loud cheering and S'ria managed a tired smile for them. G'raha quickly got him to a seat and hovered by his side. S'ria got the distinct sense that G'raha would start waving people off if he seemed too fatigued – unnecessary, perhaps, but appreciated nonetheless.

For now, it was quite alright. The first to gather near S'ria were those that had been with him in Ultima Thule – some that he hadn't seen since and some that he had seen in the last few days. The twins only touched him gently, hands on his arm and shoulder and nowhere that hurt. The rest didn't touch at all, but posed simple questions about their future plans and how S'ria's healing was going thus far.

While S'ria preferred not to discuss the latter, it was decent enough company. He promised to visit them in their distant endeavors when he was more easily able to, of course. Well, the twins to be certain, and Y'shtola and Tataru should be easy enough, but Urianger and Thancred may prove difficult to locate.

It was the other Scions that made S'ria a bit less comfortable, the ones who only had secondhand information at best. They kept a polite distance, enough for him to breathe, but it was the way they looked at him. He'd had eyes on him for the walk in, and now the same eyes furtively glanced over him and flitted down to look at the leg he'd been favoring. S'ria would rather not have this be some sort of big deal that the Warrior of Light was currently in less than perfect shape.

S'ria would like to get back to training before he entirely forgot the motions of fighting, but it had been said many times now that such a thing was likely months off.

That was…fair enough, considering even walking very far without G'raha's help quickly became undoable.

S'ria sighed in relief and sank back in his chair when finally left alone. He needed to retain some energy for what would come next, after all.

It… hurt, much as he expected it to, when the Scions were officially disbanded – even if such a thing was only a formal gesture at most, not a true farewell. Even as most of the Scions filed out of the building with a last look back, S'ria and G'raha remained behind, mostly alone. At the least, Thancred and Urianger had volunteered to help them – a thing that was deeply appreciated, but that they may come to regret offering.

Despite the fact that it would surely take longer than if they split up, S'ria and G'raha opted to stay together as they ventured towards the private rooms. They began in G'raha's room, as his would surely take longer – and be a bit more of a source of woe for their assistants. He already had a mostly empty trunk from when he'd first moved in, and they started there – loading it up with books, and books, and more books. At some point it had become a veritable library in the last while.

S'ria helped gather knick knacks and fold clothes, whatever was lightest. He began leaning down to check some of the remaining items under the bed. G'raha quickly told him to stop trying to kneel and bend so much before he strained his leg or ribs – a remark that would've seemed far more compassionate if G'raha wasn't so blatantly flustered. S'ria chuckled and knowingly busied himself elsewhere while G'raha was left to stow away anything he wished.

Eventually they scrounged up an empty crate and opted to put the remaining books in there instead, before the trunk became truly impossible to carry.

G'raha looked around the emptied room with some amount of sadness – but in truth, he had not spent all that much time in this room for a long while now.

Thancred picked up the trunk with no small display of colorful language and walked back to the aetheryte, with Urianger along to assist with the travel itself. G'raha gave Thancred's back an apologetic look as he left, and then they moved on down the hall to S'ria's room.

S'ria had not owned many things when he'd first moved in, so S'ria didn't have any sort of carrying case – but Tataru had risen to the occasion and dug around in storage for them. Luckily for all involved, the only books in S'ria's room were one or two small ones he had been practicing on. These were followed by a few gifts he kept around, and then clothing (a collection that Tataru had discreetly kept expanding).

That left S'ria eyeing the space left in the trunk versus his beloved pillow nest. The moment he walked over to it, he simply could not help himself from gently lying down into it. It was so familiar, scents and sensations he hadn't felt in weeks, but that still felt like home.

Despite his best efforts, S'ria still felt tears prick the corners of his eyes. He'd spent many an afternoon and evening in this same spot – relaxing, practicing reading, exchanging soft affection, naps accidentally turning into full nights of sleep together with G'raha – to take the pile apart didn't feel right.

S'ria blinked away tears and shook his head. No, it wasn't like that at all. He'd be moving this all directly into his room in the Annex, and G'raha would be living just a few doors away – none of that was lost to them. They could be flopped into the reconstructed nest in Sharlayan this very same day, he need not mourn the Rising Stones so badly.

Not that he couldn't be sad about it, he was allowed to mourn change. The Rising Stones had been his home for years.

But the Baldesion Annex would do quite well as a new home, even if Sharlayan was a touch colder. G'raha was there, though, and it reminded him a bit of his days back in Limsa Lominsa too.

S'ria cautiously got to his feet and began shifting pillows to the trunk. Partway through, he realized there was a little bit of an issue, trying to see how much the pile could be compressed.

G'raha gently nudged him out of the way before S'ria could begin exerting too much force. He shoved the remaining pillows into the trunk and forced the lid down with a moderate amount of effort, latching it securely shut. He gave it a nervous side-eye for a moment, as if waiting to see if it would explode, and then gave S'ria a pleased grin.

S'ria took one last glance around as G'raha hefted the trunk into his arms. It had been nice living here, but hopefully new memories formed elsewhere will be just as good.

Not much more to do now – once G'raha helped him teleport, he would only need to get from the Sharlayan aetheryte back to the Annex and then he could properly rest after the exertions of the day.

S'ria was intent on helping Krile and G'raha with their Students of Baldesion revival, if he was going to be moving into the Annex indefinitely – perhaps tomorrow he could see what there was to be done. He was determined to be useful, even if he could not do the physical labour he normally would do – but he'd managed to pick up new skills quickly before, hopefully he could do so once again.

#snow-system #ffxiv-oc #ffxiv-reactions #s'ria 🌸❄️#writings #and there we are #6.0 is DONE done is general write ups #no promises that we wont go back to random stuff ha

1 note · View note

anthonybialy · 2 years

Text

Taking Liberties

This place will be super once all the things that make it what it is are demolished before the rubble is shot into the Sun. An increase in solar power intensity will merely offer a side benefit. The present White House likes America except for the American things. A curious notion is far less confusing upon accepting the pompous stooges' fundamental contempt for liberty. As for why Joe Biden would want to be president of a place he loathes, winning an office beats getting a job.

It doesn't seem like a cool thing for this place's top elected official to oppose everything we find neat about being here. The person who is president according to the Constitution's terms would have an easier time listing the Bill of Rights amendments he likes. Presently, remembering how zippers work is strenuous enough. How can they go both up and down?

You're being given a hard time for your benefit, which is why you're not permitted to bitch. Natural autocrats are doing everything they can to harass citizens who committed the crime of being born here or immigrating. You may be shocked to learn none of of their capricious restrictions help, which means those imposing them are either utter failures on policy or utter successes if their nefarious goal was to reign over humans no matter the results. Debate which is more appealing.

Ordinary folks who notice everything bad is happening presently would like to avoid the news, but alleged federal solutions presently cause updates to invade daily life. Democrats believe everything is political and confirm their core tenet by making everything people want harder to get. Tedious regulations offer a nice break from price spikes.

The next round of spinning plates will allow us to finally relax. New America's planners dole out handouts to compensate for previous handouts making us poorer. As with all liberal programs, failure resulted from not going far enough thanks to restrictions by cruel freedom-mongers, so doubling down totally won't make life twice as worse. We're supposed to be concerned for each other and the future. Meanwhile, we're mortgaging tomorrow to be broke today.

Some people are not cut out for investing to the point they try to sink investments. Every market sway causes panic to those who can't wait a week for markets to rebound. It must be nightmarish to endure a marriage with someone who demands divorce in response to every crisis.

Our world contains nefarious people who want to use devices to harm us, so we better each get two of them first. Fire with double fists for freedom. Purchasing the guns we please isn't just a fun way to stimulate one industry: we can take down the crime business as well. Such purchases show how we don't let evildoers define which rights we get. Trying to make ammunition too expensive via inflation is one way to impose attempted control.

Recognizing that owning guns is inherent to freedom and merriment is the precise way to keep human demons from infringing upon joy. Shooting is just the start of our fun. Calling for a gun on most hips is the opposite of shrugging off carnage. The best way to counter lurking maliciousness is to frighten preying dastards into thinking they might get a bullet instead of a wallet.

We sadly have countless examples of where gun bans only ban responsible gun owners. Irony is supposed to teach how to avoid future ruing. Gun crime thrives in the rare American areas where guns are explicitly prohibited. Fiends have uncanny aim.

Health is guaranteed to get worse if you guarantee that everything's cured. Letting us take care of ourselves is the opposite of cruel. Nobody's better equipped to know what's wrong. Self-interest makes the whole healthier just like Democrats want. They remain unhappy when their goal is achieved by trying the opposite of their oh so inspirational policies.

Addressing repairs needed to individuals is not an offense against dignity any more than having to buy enough food for each day is mean. Biden has made acquiring sufficient energy for both vehicles and humans a challenge if you're still presuming governmental action is necessarily compassionate.

Seeing what happens when our worries are allegedly ameliorated makes us embrace the unknown. It would be adorable that people think government could protect us from life's worries if the practical effects weren't presently dooming us to far deeper fears. Causing agonies that aspiring autocrats supposedly eliminate is one way to learn how to dodge pain next time.

Relearning the same lessons isn't thrilling for those stuck in the same class. Remedial review at least provides a status check for everyone in the class. There are better ways to keep life fresh. Try Horsey Sauce instead of Arby's Sauce one of these dinners instead of once again finding out that federal intervention leaves recipients broke and broken.

Those whose solution to imaginary problems is always more government also sincerely believe they're more sophisticated than freedom fetishists. Their level of correctness remains constant. We're apparently only supposed to respect our ancestors if they didn't believe in natural rights. As for dwellers in the present, they honor the work of those who came before them by graciously condemning the country they won't leave that's provided uncommon opportunities.

America's internal enemies can only get worse by causing ailments. Naturally, saboteurs don't disappoint. Government's biggest fans are actually moaning about their policies when they issue wholesale dismissal of our great and good nation. Crime, poverty, and sickness spike whenever liberals get what they wish. They sure hate the results of their policies. At last, there's common ground.

0 notes

fates-theysband · 2 years

Note

Fate with all the unique asks?

thank you for the blank check to be completely out of my gourd, it is much appreciated and this is going to be a lot of fun

readmored for length

Everyone always asks about the first kiss. What about your first make-out session?

oh you know. tfw you kiss your partner intending for it to just be one kiss before you leave his office but the two of you uh. don't stop kissing each other and it gets steadily more intense and before long you have him backed up against his desk and you plant your hands down to kind of steady the both of you...and then you accidentally knock his inkwell off his desk and, well, broken glass and a rapidly-spreading ink puddle can really kill the mood.

we got it cleaned up, shared a second (much more chaste, we were both too embarrassed to try that again) kiss goodbye, and then i actually went back downstairs to the emporium like i said i was going to the first time. mortimer spent a solid three days teasing me like an older brother who just found out their younger sibling has a crush after i told them why my hands were covered in ink stains

What are some ways in which you and your F/O don't mesh well? How do you overcome these differences?

well like. it is kind of difficult to convince them that destroying the world is not the answer to their depression. like they're pretty set on that. also it's hard to get them to be direct about their feelings which can be kind of stressful because come ON you don't have to carry all that hurt by yourself my ears are always open. but like, being patient and not trying to force it has done wonders.

What was your SECOND date like? Was it an improvement on the first in some way?

it's hard to really have varied dates when you're confined to an office building but on our second date we spent a day down in the archive and he taught me how to play go. he beat me literally every single game <3 (it was still fun though. and it was a lot less awkward than the first one because the first date was cerberus's den so there were a few reapers in there trying to pretend they weren't gawking because Holy Shit The Boss Came All The Way Down Here? And He Brought A DATE???)

What's the strangest gift your F/O has ever given you?

i'm usually the weird gifts guy but since they do occasionally venture out of the office (out of necessity more than desire) they'll occasionally pop into an antique store and buy something that reminds them of me. the most recent was a preserved squid specimen in formaldehyde (<- real thing i saw for sale at a con irl and only didn't buy because if it broke on the plane ride home i really would just have to throw away the whole suitcase)

What's your F/O's favorite type of kiss to receive? Slow, passionate, sloppy, quick, sweet? What about you?

he really likes those long passionate almost cinematic kisses. i think it's because he knows that one of those usually leads to more kissing. my answer is the same as the last ask: Kisses Are Kisses And I Want All Of Them So Bad

What kinds of kisses does your F/O give you? What kinds of kisses do you give your F/O?

they strike me as the kind of guy who will give a single very soft gentle kiss, pull back, pause for a few seconds, and then DIVE back in with a way more passionate kiss because like. for all their reserved nature i really do think they are full of emotional floodgates ready to be opened. i on the other hand would straight up dip kiss them on sight. and i have. (but more typically it's very sweet playful quick kisses)

If your F/O were a type of dog, what breed would they be? Maybe a mix?

i feel like he would be a mastiff of some sort. very imposing presence but not nearly as scary as he initially seems.

Where are your F/O's hands while y'all are walking side by side? Are you holding hands? Is their arm around your waist? Somewhere else?

their arm is definitely around my waist in a firm protective "i've got you" kind of way

What's your F/O's favorite cuddling position? Yours?

he's a very "face to face, arms wrapped around each other and legs intwined" kind of guy. suits me just fine lmao

Have you ever fallen asleep on your F/O's shoulder? How did they react? Have they fallen asleep on your shoulder?

the first time i fell asleep with my head on their shoulder i feel like they reacted in the most cat owner way possible which is by freezing in position until i woke up on my own. we both had pretty nasty kinks in our necks after that one. they've fallen asleep on my shoulder a few times and i just adjust slightly so we're both more comfortable and carry on with what i'm doing.

#r: curses #thanks for the ask!!#[absolutely melting into a puddle thinking about all this]

0 notes

aeipathcy · 2 years

Note

There was a flash, and Reece was there, smiling as if this were the best day ever. And it was, he thought. Without missing a beat, he reached out and snagged Lian's hand, leaning over to drop a peck to the other's cheek. "Happy Lian Day!" He announced. Ever since the last one had gone by unmarked, the Nephilim had been biding his time for the date to roll around again. "I got a lot of things planned today--we're gonna go to Japan for a summer festival at this really neat shrine I found and I'm gonna win you like a dozen souvenirs. Maybe we can buy charms, too." Honestly, Reece's plan was a 'plan'--a loose abstraction of all the myriad things he wanted to get done. "And fireworks! And then maybe we go to Paris for a little bit for some sweets." He bumped his head against Lian's, letting his forehead rest against his absolute favorite person's. "And you can pick anywhere you wanna go, and I'll take you there--a little unplanned adventure or somethin'. Before we come back here for cake with your parents and roommates."

Since apparently it was only fair that he shared his boyfriend's time.

UNPROMPTED ┊always accepting.

Life had been quite mundane as of late with summer vacation having started not too long ago. While he did have the freedom of doing whatever he wanted, the blonde honestly didn’t know what to do with his time outside of trying to get better at managing the chores of the house he lived in. Although his efforts weren’t improving that quickly, he was slowly getting the hang of making simple meals and vacuuming the carpets amongst other tasks without causing disasters somehow.

Today, he was planning to attempt making a cake for himself (to celebrate of course!) using a store-bought mix to minimize potential mistakes. The last time Lian had done this was with his boyfriend, but this time, he was alone. Fighting off the loneliness that crept within his chest, he pushed the cake tin aside as he slumped his shoulders and let out a sigh. It was too quiet today, and of course nobody was really around to hang out with right now—Naoki was out and about and Niko was asleep so he didn’t dare to wake him at this hour. While the caladrius was aware he could impose on Reece, as they were dating, he knew the guy was also likely to be in an entirely different universe. Who knew if calling him would even work wherever he was at.

However, a blinding light that shone from behind broke him out of his somberness— ah, he was here!

Spinning on his heel all too quickly, Lian completely disregarded the baking supplies he had out on the counter and reached his arms out intending to pull his boyfriend into a hug, his gloominess completely washed away by the bright presence that was the one person who made him smile without a care in the world. Only, Reece had beat him in speed, grabbing his hands and pecking his cheek before he could wrap them around him.

Happy Lian Day!

❝ I’m so happy you’re here! ❞ he practically cheered, an unfaltering smile stretching onto his face, ❝ I was just about to die of loneliness! ❞ Of course, he was exaggerating, but it certainly felt like he was losing some essence of purpose with how deadly quiet things had been lately. With less people to actually take injuries from and also having less reasons to go out and be social, the lack of being around people and somehow making their days a little bit better was taking its toll on him.

He couldn’t help but smile and laugh along as Reece excitedly shared his plans for today. It seemed he remembered their promise from last year, and to say he was beyond moved by it was an understatement; the happiness he felt now was probably more than anything he could put into words. His boyfriend really wanted to celebrate to make up for missing it last year, huh. Lian couldn’t say he wasn’t happy with that, but there were issues with it. (But it was that moment he realized he had no idea when his birthday was—what kind of significant other was he?!)

Breaking his hands free from Reece’s hold to chase away the thought, Lian raised them to ruffle Reece’s hair the moment he had leaned forward to press his forehead against his, ❝ While I’m glad to indulge on all those plans, that seems a bit much for one day, don’t you think? We could start with going to the shrine and use the other plans for future trips? We have all the time in the world, don’t we? ❞ A nod to both of their odd mechanisms of ‘aging’, not that Lian really aged in truth, ❝ and then we can make the cake together after we come back? It’d be more fun to do that, I think. ❞ That, and he just had to show him that he was capable of not burning said cake.

#* ✭ ❪❪ asks ❫.#strongwilledsoul #reece┊ѕтяσиgωιℓℓє∂ѕσυℓ ✭ *#* ✭ ❪❪ lian ↠ in character ❫.#* ✭ ❪ ι’ll love yoυ ғorever & ɴever leт yoυ ɢo┊❛ 𝐥𝐢𝐚𝐧 ✖ 𝐫𝐞𝐞𝐜𝐞 ❜ ❫#* ✭ ❪❪ birthday wishes ❫.#;; i've noticed that Lian gets easily depressed--

0 notes

robininthelabyrinth · 3 years

Note

I hope you get plenty of prompts that you enjoy. Thank you.

NMJ bonding with child Wangji. Maybe a few times NMJ beat little LWJ in a spar and the time he knew little Wangji would one day beat him. Mostly Pre Cloud Recesses arc?

Of Few Words - ao3

The first time Nie Mingjue met Lan Xichen’s little brother, he thought he would be just like Nie Huaisang, so he picked him up and threw him.

“Mingjue-xiong,” Lan Xichen gasped, clearly horrified. “What are you doing?”

Probably something forbidden by the rules, Nie Mingjue thought, and shrugged.

He wasn’t good with words, was too blunt and too direct, especially for the Lan sect, and so over the past couple of weeks or so that he’d been here he’d found it was easier not to speak at all. They’d make whatever assumptions they wanted about him, no matter what he did; it was easier to just let them do that and work with that than it was to futilely strive to get them to actually understand him.

“Even if Wangji has done something to upset you, you may only assign him to do copying,” Lan Xichen told him, and Nie Mingjue was briefly surprised that his new friend had assumed he was angry before he remembered that everyone here thought he was angry all the time, so it wasn’t actually that much of a surprise. “Please keep that in mind. Also, I don’t know if I’ve said, but he’s very reserved, so please don’t take offense if he just points things out...oh, I wish I wasn’t needed elsewhere this afternoon! I’d much rather show you around myself, but as it is, he’ll be showing you around this part of the Cloud Recesses in my place.”

Nie Mingjue grunted assent, and watched, a little desolately, as Lan Xichen disappeared down the still confusing twists and turns of the paths of the Cloud Recesses. It was all gardens here, carefully tended to maximize graceful tranquility, and he was sure he would have no chance of ever finding his way back on his own if left to it.

It wouldn’t surprise him in the slightest if he was. The other Lan disciples hadn’t really taken to him the way Lan Xichen had, much less a younger brother that the (rather reserved, by Nie Mingjue’s standards) Lan Xichen had described as reserved…

Unexpectedly, a small hand slipped into his own, and he looked down in surprise.

Lan Wangji looked up at him, his cheeks flushed a little red.

Nie Mingjue instinctively smiled at him, charmed by the reminder of Nie Huaisang, then remembered that too much exuberance seemed to only disturb the Lan sect and struggled to get his expression under control. He expected him to start leading him around the Cloud Recesses without another word – he had overheard Lan Qiren telling his father that Lan Wangji wasn’t much of a talker, very quiet, and to not expect much interaction with him – but to his surprise Lan Wangji did not move, looking at up at him thoughtfully, lips pursed as if he was considering saying something.

Nie Mingjue waited for his judgment.

“You weren’t angry,” Lan Wangji finally said. “When you threw me.”

Nie Mingjue blinked.

“No,” he admitted, breaking his own informal vow of silence. “I wasn’t. I thought you might enjoy it.”

Nie Huaisang loved being tossed around, whether up into the air or into bushes, headfirst shrieking into his bed or ass-first into a pool of water; he’d thought tossing little brothers around was what big brothers were there for. Sure, there was a small age gap – Lan Wangji was six, Nie Huaisang still not quite five – but he hadn’t thought it would make such a difference.

Lan Wangji hummed thoughtfully. He did not speak for another long while, but Nie Mingjue was starting to think that that was just him chewing over his thoughts before forming them into words.

At last, he spoke again: “I did.”

Nothing afterwards. Hesitantly, Nie Mingjue asked, “Would you like me to do it again?”

Lan Wangji nodded.

This time, Nie Mingjue was a little more cautious: he threw Lan Wangji up into the air and caught him, trying to demonstrate that he knew what he was doing, that he could be trusted, and by the third or fourth time Lan Wangji was smiling. It wasn’t quite on part with Nie Huaisang’s giggles and shrieks, but felt rewarding nevertheless.

Satisfied by his success, Nie Mingjue was about to put him down on the ground, but hesitated. “Do you want to ride on my shoulders?” he asked, and waited as Lan Wangji considered it.

“Another time,” Lan Wangji decided. “Not today.”

Nie Mingjue nodded and put him down. Lan Wangji took his hand once again and, this time, led him around the way he’d expected from the start, pointing out various places and naming them in a quiet murmur.

Lan Wangji really wasn’t much of a talker, a person of few words, but that was fine. So was Nie Mingjue.

It was a few days later that he came across Lan Wangji kneeling beside the training grounds and impulsively challenged him. He was getting bored of training alone: Lan Xichen was busy again, and the other Lan disciples had already made clear that they didn’t want to have anything to do with him, the interloper who’d pushed his way into their lessons by force.

It wasn’t actually like that at all – his father had sent Nie Mingjue to learn here for the season as a gesture of goodwill, wanting to support Lan Qiren’s lecture series and make it clear that other sects should follow suit, to encourage Lan Qiren’s goal of eventually creating a safe haven for all the Great Sect’s heirs to come together and learn and build friendships while still in their youth – but Nie Mingjue knew that there was no convincing any of his wary Lan sect peers of that. Even if there was, he certainly couldn’t do it, not with his clumsy tongue and scowling face and too-tall height that made everyone immediately assume he would resort to violence as his first and only argument.

So he trained alone and studied alone, or with Lan Xichen in the rare times when his friend was free, but it was boring, and anyway, he thought he’d gotten on pretty well with Lan Wangji the first time they’d met. It wouldn’t be a real spar, of course, not against a six-year-old, but doing the moves slow and mirroring a smaller opponent would force him to pay close attention to his own technique, which would pay off in the long run.

He explained this to Lan Wangji when the boy frowned up at him in what Nie Mingjue was starting to be able to identify as a silent question – he didn’t use many words himself, just spat out “Mirroring improves technique,” and saw that Lan Wangji understood the rest – and a moment later Lan Wangji nodded and rose to his feet, picking up one of the practice swords and taking a position opposite him on one of the fields.

Nie Mingjue started with a standard warm-up routine, unsure of Lan Wangji’s skills. Supposedly he was the opposite of Nie Huaisang in this respect, too, startlingly advanced for his age, but Lan Qiren had also said something about him pausing his sword training as a result of some incident, not specified; his father had nodded in response as if he’d understood, which was very unhelpful to the eavesdropping Nie Mingjue, who didn’t. Since he didn’t know the background of the incident or when Lan Wangji had picked up sword training again, and more to the point wasn’t inclined to ask since he knew that Lan Wangji wouldn’t enjoy explaining, he just started out with the basics and went up slowly from there.

It turned out his concerns were mostly unnecessary – Lan Wangji was a bit stiff at first, maybe because of the kneeling he’d been doing, but he clearly had the basics down flat, and they were able to progress to something a little more interesting quick enough, trading very slow swipes with saber and sword.

Nie Mingjue didn’t even notice that they had an audience until he heard Lan Xichen say his name in a strangled voice. He finished the follow-through of the move they were on, since stopping in the middle could be dangerous (not for them, not with training swords, but in the future, when it was real, and forming good habits now would help more later on), saluted Lan Wangji with his saber and was saluted in return, and then turned to look for his friend.

Lan Xichen was staring at them as if they’d turned into ghosts, and there was a whole crowd of Lan sect disciples standing around gawking at them instead of doing their own training.

Nie Mingjue hunched up his shoulders, assuming he’d somehow managed to do something wrong again, and automatically stepped in front of Lan Wangji, blocking the others’ views of him. “I challenged him,” he said bluntly, hoping to take the brunt of whatever punishment would need to be imposed here – generally speaking, he’d learned that the Lan sect’s penalties for being lured into misbehavior were less than the penalties for instigating it. “He didn’t seem otherwise occupied.”

“Wangji,” Lan Xichen said, or started to say, but Lan Wangji was already turning to put away his training sword. He then formally saluted his brother and trotted away from the training field entirely.

Lan Xichen watched him go without stopping him, then turned to Nie Mingjue. “Mingjue-xiong, how did you get him to fight you?”

Nie Mingjue blinked, confused. “I asked.”

“Yes, but – how?”

“I asked him to train with me,” Nie Mingjue said slowly, not sure if he was missing something. “I pointed out that mirroring improves technique. He probably did it as a favor to me…listen, do you need me to copy lines or something?”

“Copy lines?”

“For whatever rule I just broke,” Nie Mingjue clarified, but Lan Xichen only looked more confused. “Was it because he was kneeling and I interrupted him?”

Everyone is staring at me again and I don’t know why, again. Just tell me what it is that I did, impose the punishment, and I won’t do it again, I promise – but you need to tell me what it was that I did wrong first.

“Mingjue-xiong,” Lan Xichen said, staring at him even more strangely now. “You didn’t break any rules at all.”

That was even weirder. “But –”

“Wangji was kneeling because that’s what he always does during training hours,” Lan Xichen said. “He doesn’t train the sword anymore.”

“He – doesn’t?” Nie Mingjue asked, now even more confused, and in his confusion forgot that he was in the Lan sect with their carefully thought-out sentences and myriad of prickly unwritten rules. “Why not? He’s so good at it! And he seemed to be having a good time, too…listen, I know your sect prizes musical cultivation, Xichen, and that it’s often one or the other, but there’s really no reason he can’t do both.”

He belatedly realized he was talking too much and shut his mouth, embarrassed. He shouldn’t have brought up that subject.

After all, Qingheng-jun had been a sword cultivator with little interest in music beyond battle-songs – still was, Nie Mingjue supposed, although he was in seclusion so much that it might as well be ‘had been’ – and Lan Qiren was an expert at musical cultivation, skilled in both xiao and guqin, but used his sword only to fly. They’d been trained that way, complementary to each other’s strengths – Qingheng-jun the attacking hand, Lan Qiren the supporting arm – which was a pretty decent plan right up until it had all rather been ruined when Qingheng-jun had for whatever reason retreated from the world.

“Of course,” Lan Xichen echoed, and luckily he didn’t seem to notice the implied criticism. “He should, of course, if he wants to…Mingjue-xiong, I’m sorry, I have to go again, I need to talk to my uncle at once. But you should feel free to challenge Wangji again – in fact, I would appreciate it if you did. Liu-xiong, can you tell Mingjue-xiong what Wangji’s training hours are?”

One of the other Lan disciples nodded, and Lan Xichen flashed them both a thankful smile before disappearing again, even though he’d promised that his uncle only needed him for half a day and that they’d be able to go down to visit Caiyi Town that afternoon.

As a result, despite Lan Xichen’s assurances, Nie Mingjue still had the distinct feeling that he’d done something wrong, but he really couldn’t see what. Best not to think too much about it, he supposed.

By the afternoon, Nie Mingjue had retreated to the library to avoid being stared at. He’d thought that the indirect sneers and silent rigid politeness that invited no familiarity was bad, but apparently it was actively worse when the Lan sect disciples treated him like he’d just turned into a performing monkey that had done a neat trick. They still wouldn’t condescend to talk to him, of course, but they felt no issue staring or talking to each other about him – even though Nie Mingjue was sure there was a rule about not talking behind people’s backs.

Maybe it didn’t count if you did it in front of their faces.

Nie Mingjue actually rather liked the library, despite the Lan sect’s general tendency to treat him like an illiterate ape that only knew how to swing a saber – even Lan Xichen had looked a little puzzled the first time he’d asked to spend the afternoon there, though of course he hadn’t said anything out loud beyond reminding Nie Mingjue that they didn’t have to go there and that it wasn’t necessary to sacrifice his own enjoyment for Lan Xichen’s.

It wasn’t his friend’s fault that he was brought up to prefer those were gentle and scholarly, Nie Mingjue reminded himself, even if it chafed a little every time that Lan Xichen automatically sided with someone who could express themselves better, someone cleverer with words than he; that trait was common to just about everyone at the Cloud Recesses, and at least Lan Xichen would eventually listen to him if he kept his temper under control and persisted in trying to make his point.

Nie Mingjue might wish that the Lan sect didn’t view losing one’s temper as an automatic forfeit of the argument – do not succumb to rage had been whispered in his vicinity more times than he could count, though rarely to his face – and he might think in his heart of hearts think that they were simply wrong in dismissing his viewpoint just because he felt too strongly about a matter to contain himself, but he was a guest here and he needed to respect their ways, conform himself to their customs, even if it upset and disturbed him to do so.

At least sometimes those ways and customs served him, including in the deliberate air of quiet contemplation in the Library Pavilion. There were separate rooms for private study, of course, but an emphasis was put on preserving the tranquility of the location, and it seemed that the Lan disciples at least knew enough shame to avoid coming to gawk at him from the door when he was there.

Deciding to entertain himself, Nie Mingjue picked out several books on military strategy utilizing musical cultivation – just because he was all but tone-deaf didn’t mean he didn’t appreciate the power of the Lan sect’s core techniques – and settled down for a nice afternoon of being alone.

Until, of course, he wasn’t.

He was pretty absorbed in an analysis of altitude effects on range attacks for a while, deaf and blind to the outside world the way he usually was when he was reading, and then, perhaps alerted by some sound, he looked up to find that the sun had shifted position and also that Lan Wangji was sitting across from him with his own book primly laid out in front of him.

Nie Mingjue blinked and thought briefly about saying something. If it had been Nie Huaisang, he would have – some friendly jibe that Nie Huaisang would return in full measure, before they both settled down to enjoy each other’s company in communal silence – but this was Lan Wangji, who was a Lan, and probably wouldn’t appreciate it.

So he didn’t say anything, just looked back down at his book and continued reading.

After a little while, there was a tug at his sleeve.

Nie Mingjue looked up. Lan Wangji was pointing to one of the words in his book – “Frivolous,” he said, assuming that Lan Wangji was asking for assistance with the more complicated characters the way that Nie Huaisang would have, albeit with much less whining. “Means lacking purpose or value.”

Lan Wangji nodded, released his sleeve, and returned to his reading.

They carried on in this fashion for a while, quiet reading interspersed with occasional reading comprehension questions, and it was nice. Nie Mingjue could feel the stress of the day slowly sliding off his shoulders – more than just the day, maybe the whole week, the entire time he’d been here, or even before, when Nie Huaisang burst into tears at finding out his big brother was going to be leaving him behind. He would need to write to him again soon, Nie Mingjue thought to himself, and send presents; he’d been hoping to pick something up in Caiyi Town today, but then Lan Xichen had gotten busy…

It’d be nice if he could get him something from the Cloud Recesses itself, though.

“Wangji,” he said before he could stop himself. “What is a present you would get for someone who likes pretty things?”

Lan Wangji blinked up at him, then frowned. Nie Mingjue was pretty sure that it was a thinking frown, though, so he just waited, and sure enough Lan Wangji carefully closed his book and stood up.

“Flowers,” he said, and held out a hand as if to help Nie Mingjue up.

Nie Mingjue long ago learned that when a small child offers to help you, you accept regardless of whether or not they were actually capable of performing the action in question – though with Lan sect arm strength, who even knew – so he took Lan Wangji’s hand and scrambled up to his feet.

“Flowers?” he asked, a little dubiously. “I don’t know if they’d survive being sent by post.”

“Flower petals,” Lan Wangji clarified. “Pressed.”

Nie Mingjue blinked, but actually, no, that sounded perfect for Nie Huaisang. Especially if he got them pressed into a bookmark or something.

“My brother will love it,” he said enthusiastically. “Do you know where there are good flowers?” He knew himself well enough not to even try to make that sort of judgment call. “Can you show me?”

Lan Wangji frowned, and this one wasn’t his thinking frown – it seemed sad, almost.

“You don’t have to,” Nie Mingjue assured him, but Lan Wangji set his shoulders in a look of fierce six-year-old determination and he nodded as if he was going to go to war. “Really, if you don’t want to interrupt your reading –”

“The place is sad,” Lan Wangji said. “But it has the best flowers.”

Nie Mingjue frowned. He could tell from the way Lan Wangji’s little lips were firmed up in stubborn intent that there would be no stopping him, that he was determined to get Nie Mingjue the best flowers – truly, Lan Wangji was such a good boy, unlike that junior hellspawn and walking calamity named Nie Huaisang – but also that he thought it would hurt him to do so.

He didn’t want Lan Wangji to hurt.

“Do you want to ride on my shoulders this time?” Nie Mingjue asked, and Lan Wangji looked at him in surprise. He shrugged. “Sometimes having a different perspective on the same place makes it feel different.”

He knew he was butchering the explanation – he really wasn’t good with words – but he didn’t know how else to explain it.

He didn’t know how to explain that he used to spend days and days looking at the place where Nie Huaisang’s mother had gone in to give birth and never come back out, equally drawn and repulsed by it, right up until the day he climbed up the gate of the Unclean Realm on a dare and by coincidence happened to see it when he looked down from that great height, only to realize that the place he’d thought of as dark and depressing and even haunted was just a room like all the rooms right beside it: he couldn’t even tell it apart from the rest.

“…mn,” Lan Wangji said, sounding doubtful, but he hopped onto Nie Mingjue’s back when offered and scrambled up to sit on his shoulders, ducking his head to avoid the doorway to the Library Pavilion as they exited out the side door, and then he showed him the way to a nice looking cottage that seemed a little out of the way but which was surrounded by what were undoubtedly lovely purple gentians.

“Wow,” Nie Mingjue couldn’t help but say. “They’re very – purple.”

Lan Wangji poked him in the head.

“They are! Very purple. I’m sure Huaisang will love them to a ridiculous degree and that my father will write me angry letters about trying to sell him to the Jiang sect again –” There was a very small snort from above his head. “In my defense, he was really annoying when he was a colicky baby, and at the time I thought the Jiang sect were pirates.”

Another snort, this time less small. Somewhat disdainful.

“Listen, they’re ‘known for their watercraft’, right? It was a perfectly reasonable mistake to make…”

Lan Wangji didn’t giggle the way Nie Huaisang did when Nie Mingjue clowned around for him, but he was smiling by the time he edged onto a nearby tree branch to get a particular blossom that Nie Mingjue had set his heart on, declaring it the fattest of all the flowers and thereby a necessary acquisition, and in the end they collected a full basket of the purple flowers, more than enough for a dozen pressed bookmarks.

The smile made Nie Mingjue feel like he accomplished something.

It was almost enough, even, to let him brush off all the stares they got as they walked back together, side-by-side.

Nie Mingjue reported to Lan Qiren’s study with a great deal of trepidation.

It only got worse when he saw Lan Xichen sitting there as well, and when Lan Qiren instructed his nephew to serve them all tea. Nie Mingjue was abruptly seized by the fear that something terrible had happened: that he’d broken some unknown rule and needed to be punished severely, that he’d failed all his tests, that they’d decided he wasn’t actually a good fit for the Cloud Recesses after all, that his father had been summoned to take him back home early in disgrace –

“You’ve been spending some time with Wangji of late,” Lan Qiren said.

Nie Mingjue nodded.

“Yesterday, you presented the craftsman with a basket of purple gentians. Did Wangji show you where to find them?”

“Yes,” Nie Mingjue said cautiously. “He helped me pick them.”

Lan Qiren and Lan Xichen exchanged glances.

Nie Mingjue somehow felt even more nervous.

“Was I not supposed to take them?” he asked. “Wangji said they’re his mother’s favorites.”

Lan Xichen dropped his cup.

“Xichen,” Lan Qiren said sternly, and Lan Xichen apologized and quickly cleaned it up. Luckily the cup had not shattered. “Nie-gongzi, to confirm, Wangji told you that himself?”

Nie Mingjue nodded.

Lan Qiren stroked his beard thoughtfully. “Nie-gongzi…if I were to tell you that Wangji has not spoken to anyone in nearly six months, what would you say?”

Nie Mingjue blinked.

“He also hasn’t trained with the sword in that time,” Lan Xichen interjected.

Nie Mingjue opened his mouth, then closed it. He had no idea what to say.

“Our mother died,” Lan Xichen explained, his brow creased in misery and concern. “Wangji didn’t really understand…it took a long time before he understood that he couldn’t see her any more.”

“Oh,” Nie Mingjue said, feeling uncomfortable. “I’m sorry, Xichen.”

Now it was Lan Xichen’s turn to blink. “Sorry? For what?”

“For your loss? I mean, she was your mother, too, right?” It occurred to Nie Mingjue that she might not be, the way his mother and Nie Huaisang’s mother weren’t the same, but he was pretty sure the Lan sect only allowed for one marriage, and the age gap between Lan Xichen and Lan Wangji was smaller than the one between him and Nie Huaisang…

“Yes,” Lan Xichen said. “She – was. Thank you.”

Lan Qiren made a thoughtful sound.

“If you’re asking if I did something to convince Wangji to come with me and do all that,” Nie Mingjue said, having finally figured out why he was sitting here having tea and being uncomfortable, “I really didn’t. It may just be that enough time has passed for the wound to scab over.”

“Perhaps,” Lan Qiren said.

“I think he feels bad for me?” Nie Mingjue hazarded. “I’m not sure. I’m still learning how to understand him.”

“The fact that you’ve realized that there’s something there to understand puts you way ahead of most people,” Lan Xichen told him.

“Why would he feel bad for you?” Lan Qiren asked.

Because your sect is full of snobs that all hate me.

“Uh,” Nie Mingjue said. “I – have no idea.”

Lan Xichen frowned at him. “Mingjue-xiong, ‘do not tell lies’ is a rule.”

“So is ‘do not insult people’,” Nie Mingjue said sulkily, and refused to say another word no matter how many ways Lan Qiren and Lan Xichen asked. He’d already figured out that not talking was the best way to avoid getting into trouble – the Lan sect was much more insular than the Nie sect, with all sorts of restrictions about getting brought in, and he didn’t have any confidence that expressing grievances would result in anything other than more shunning.

Eventually, Lan Qiren dismissed him, frowning, and Lan Xichen escorted him back to his rooms.

“Is it because you don’t trust me?” he asked, and Nie Mingjue stared at him.

“What are you talking about?” he said. “Of course I trust you. You’re my friend.”

“Then why didn’t you tell me that there was something wrong?” Lan Xichen demanded. “And don’t say nothing’s wrong, that’s obviously a lie.”

“It’s because we’re friends,” Nie Mingjue said with a sigh. Most of the time, he forgot that there was an age gap between him and Lan Xichen – three and a half years, same as the gap between Lan Xichen and Lan Wangji – but sometimes it really hit home. “I don’t want to make trouble for you. This is just a place I’m staying for a little while, but you live here; after I go, we’ll still be friends, but you’ll still be stuck with whatever mess I make for you.”

Lan Xichen was scowling, his lower lip trembling a little, and Nie Mingjue cautiously reached out a hand to put on his shoulder, squeezing. He would prefer to give him a hug, but he didn’t know if it would be welcome – he’d already told Lan Xichen that he himself was always open for hugs, but he knew very well that Lan Xichen was uncomfortable with too much contact.

“It’s all right,” he said.

“No, it’s not,” Lan Xichen said. “Wangji noticed that you were unhappy, and I didn’t! What kind of friend am I?”

“You’re a good friend,” Nie Mingjue insisted. “You are. It’s not about you. I promise.”

They still hadn’t resolved it by the time Lan Xichen left him at his room. Nie Mingjue sighed, hoped that he hadn’t inadvertently ruined everything, and went to sleep.

The next morning, he woke up when the door to his room opened abruptly with a slam that seemed, in his sleep-fogged brain, to echo throughout the entire Cloud Recesses.

“Mingjue-xiong!”

“…Xichen?” Nie Mingjue said, and rubbed his eyes disbelievingly. “Did you just slam a door?”

It wasn’t really a slam. It was a small shove, at best.

“Why didn’t you tell me people were being mean to you?” Lan Xichen demanded, and Nie Mingjue stared at him. “I would’ve made them stop! Really, I would have! I don’t care if they’re Lan sect and you’re not, they shouldn’t be – I shouldn’t be – making assumptions about you or pushing you out or – or – or anything!”

“Where did you get all of this from?” Nie Mingjue asked, utterly at sea. He was right, of course, about the problems Nie Mingjue had been having, but he certainly hadn’t known it last night before curfew and while, yes, it was only morning by the standards of guest disciples and not Lan sect members themselves – he got an extra shichen to sleep in while he adjusted to the earlier schedule, of which he generally tried to use only half – it still seemed a little implausible that Lan Xichen had managed to puzzle all of that out overnight.

“Wangji!” Lan Xichen said, and threw himself on the bed next to Nie Mingjue and gave him a hug, a good proper one like the ones he used to get all the time back in Qinghe and which he missed rather terribly. “He actually came and talked to us! With words! Well, a few words, anyway, but he hasn’t said anything to Shifu or me for six months up until now. He said you were unhappy because of the other Lan disciples persisted in thinking that you were stupid and angry when you’re neither.”

Nie Mingjue felt warm inside.

“Your brother’s smart,” he said gruffly.

“He is,” Lan Xichen said. “I’m sorry if I made you feel like I also thought you were stupid and angry and nothing more than that. I know you’re not.”

“I didn’t think that,” Nie Mingjue said, and it was mostly not a lie. “We’re friends, aren’t we? A friend wouldn’t think that about another friend.”

“That’s right,” Lan Xichen said, nodding firmly. “And friends don’t let friends go around thinking they didn’t do anything when they did something big – I still don’t know what exactly you did, Mingjue-xiong, but you helped Wangji a lot, and I’m eternally grateful.”

“There’s no need for thanks between friends,” Nie Mingjue reminded him, the first rule of their friendship formed in the spaces between discussion conferences that neither of them had any choice but to attend, and Lan Xichen smiled.

“I know,” he said warmly, and Nie Mingjue felt warm in response. “But I’m going to abuse my privilege and ask you to keep spending time with him – with both of us, sometimes, but with him by yourself if you don’t mind – so I think you’re owed at least one ‘thanks’.”

“Oh, I see how it is,” Nie Mingjue said, grinning. “You just want a free babysitter, is that it?”

“It is not! Mingjue-xiong!”

Nie Mingjue started laughing. Lan Xichen smacked him – lightly by Lan standards, no doubt, but it was a good thing Nie Mingjue was as strong as he was.

“I don’t mind,” Nie Mingjue finally said. “I like your brother.”

Lan Xichen’s smile was as dazzling as the sun. “Good,” he said. “He likes you, too.”

#mdzs #nie mingjue #lan wangji #lan xichen #my fic #my fics #of few words #ivydragon

701 notes · View notes

julemmaes · 3 years

Text

Robyn

Rowaelin Month, Day Ten

A/N: I'd planned on posting them in order, but you get what you get. Idk when the other prompts will come tbf. I hope soon. Anyway, I managed to write over 6k words today and I'm pretty fucking proud.

This is just fluff over fluff, so yep enjoy!!

Word count: 3,047

Rowan was unbelievably late as he sped through the streets of Orynth.

So late that the school had called not only him, but also the front desk of the place where he worked when he hadn't answered the call on his personal phone. Sorscha, his assistant, had entered his office with an embarrassed smile on her lips, as if she didn't want to tell him that he had forgotten for the umpteenth time to pick up his daughter from school.

Lorcan had joined him, for some strange reason, but Rowan had stopped bothering when it came to his best friend. He'd been trying to figure out how he reasoned for years and had come to the conclusion that there was no logical sense in the actions of the man sitting next to him, who was currently singing at the top of his lungs to one of the songs on the Frozen CD - which much to the chagrin of both of them, had gotten stuck in his car radio months before, forcing them into hours of torture.

He would never deny that the songs were all quite catchy, but after the sixteenth time Rowan had had to listen to Let It Go at maximum volume, his positive opinion of the film had begun to waver.

As they pulled into the school parking lot, Rowan noticed with deep regret that the only cars still there were those of the teachers and school staff.

They both got out of the car, Rowan walking quickly towards the entrance while Lorcan dragged behind him.

He greeted the caretakers sitting at the entrance, who returned a big smile. A smile that grew even wider when his large, imposing friend entered a few moments later. He stopped to talk to the old ladies and Rowan walked down the corridor he knew led to Robyn's classroom.

He could hear muffled voices from inside the teachers' room on the left and the one he knew belonged to Miss Galathynius coming from the right. He looked out over the classroom, spotting the two people sitting at a desk.

As soon as his daughter saw him, her eyes widened and a huge smile flashed across her face.

No words. No "hello, daddy!" or "I missed you!" from the little girl.

Her teacher turned as she leapt out of her chair and ran towards him, hugging his legs and looking up at him. Rowan smiled at her in turn, running a hand over her hair that was shot in every direction.

"Hello, little bird," he murmured to her. The child's smile widened even more if that was possible.

The woman a few feet away from them pulled herself upright, crossing her arms over her chest and offering a sincere smile to the child, who hid behind his thighs.

Rowan was about to tell her that Robyn was shy with everyone like this, ready to defend his daughter's behaviour as he was used to doing in front of every adult, but he was beaten to the punch.

"It's good to see you, Mr Whitethorn," she said, extending a hand. Rowan shook it without hesitation. "Actually, I just wanted to write you a letter regarding Robyn," she continued, never taking her eyes off the little girl. "Nothing serious," she hastened to reassure him when Rowan grimaced, "quite the contrary. Robyn is remarkably good. One of the best in the class, though I shouldn't offer that information so bluntly."

Miss Galathynius winked at him, but he couldn't process what he'd just been told.

"Sorry, could you-"

The little hands clamped around his trousers tightened a fraction more and Rowan looked down, trying to figure out what was bothering his daughter, but then something happened that he hadn't even dared to dream about in recent times.

"You're here!"

The little girl broke off and ran away from him in less than the blink of an eye.

Rowan turned just in time to see Lorcan grab Robyn in mid-air, spinning her around as he brought her to his chest and showered her with kisses. The loud, incessant laughter that erupted from her seemed too much coming from that fragile little body, but he never tired of hearing it.

"Why hello baby!" said Lorcan laughing in turn, starting to tickle her until she begun to rebel and he was forced to let her slide to the floor. Robyn was still laughing at the top of her lungs and nearly fell to the ground as she squealed left and right, letting herself be pushed around by the closest thing to an uncle she had ever had.

When Rowan turned back to the woman, she was wide-eyed and her lips slightly parted as she watched the massive man dressed completely in black and the menacing face turn into a completely different person the second he had seen Robyn.

He chuckled, "I know, it's not every day you get to see a little girl be so comfortable with a brute like that."

Lorcan, who was listening to everything, looked him straight in the eye and without stopping smiling and playing with the little girl, mouthed to him to fuck off.

"Well, yeah. You caught me a little off guard." she confessed, still shocked to hear how Robyn was having a full conversation with Lorcan. They couldn't hear anything of what she was actually saying, but even just the fact she was talking to someone seemed to have Aelin unsettled.

She returned her attention to Rowan and let out a breath that sounded more like a giggle, "I've never heard her laugh before."

He nodded, blushing a little at the teacher's surprised but relieved tone.

"I'm sure the dean warned you about the problem she has," he said in a low voice. He grimaced at her poor choice of words, "I mean, not problem, but the difficulty she finds in interacting with people she doesn't know."

Liar, he told himself. Robyn hadn't spoken to anyone but him and Lorcan since the day Lyria had died. It wasn't a difficulty, but a response to the trauma that prevented her from speaking to anyone who wasn't part of her immediate family.

"I know, I know. We've been looking for solutions together." she informed him. "I give her a white board every morning. Come on, I'll show you." she turned to the desk they were sitting at earlier and raised the magnetic board, on which a few words were scribbled on. "I'll write here what she might need. Yes. No. I need to go to the bathroom. I'm thirsty. I'm hungry." she read, listing the various options. Rowan gaped. "We've only just started going over the alphabet for a second time, so she can't really read or write yet, as I imagine you know, but the little drawings next to each sentence help her."

She continued talking, but he couldn't quite follow.

The woman in front of him - aside from being breathtakingly beautiful - had done as much as she could to help her child with communication.

"Mr. Whitethorn-"

"Rowan. Please, call me Rowan." he said, clearing his throat once he realized how hoarse it sounded to his ears. Lorcan walked up to them at that point, still holding Robyn in his arms and positioned himself next to him, letting their shoulders touch in a comforting way.

"Call me Aelin, then," she smiled at them both. Then she made a small grimace, turning to Rowan, "I wanted to ask if it bothered you, that I sought a solution like that. Maybe I put her in distress, embarrassed her. I'm sorry if I gave you the impression that I wanted to solve this on my own. I really wanted to discuss it with you, with your husband too, to avoid misunderstandings. Maybe we could arrange a meeting."

He was about to tell her that she had given him the exact opposite of annoyance, that he had been more than pleased that she had helped Robyn this way, when her words finally registered.

Lorcan, beside him, had opened his mouth wide and his lips were slowly bending into a mischievous smile.

Rowan furrowed his brow, "I'm sorry, what?"

Aelin's smile seemed to falter. "A meeting? With you? To talk about how to handle the situation," then she shifted her gaze to Lorcan, "You're more than welcome to join as well. I didn't know Robyn had two dads, I apologise for assuming Robyn had a mum and dad. That was very rude of me-"

"I love this," Lorcan whispered, laughing in shock. He turned to Rowan with eyes that sparkled with amusement, "I would definitely be the top."

Rowan looked at him with an expression of complete shock on his face, "What the fuck are you talking about?"

Robyn gasped, opening her eyes wide and bringing a hand to her mouth, pointing then to Rowan's.

"Yeah, sorry, love. I shouldn't have said the bad word." he apologised, giving her a quick kiss on the forehead. He turned back to Miss Galathynius, "I'm sorry to have to disappoint you, but we're not married."

"No need to lie, sweetie. I'm sure Aelin," he gave her a knowing look, "doesn't mind at all about our relationship status."

Aelin nodded, "Well, yes. That doesn't change anything. Mr..." she turned to Lorcan, searching for a name.

"Salvaterre."

"Mr. Salvaterre can still attend. The fact that you are not yet married is no reason why you cannot both be present at the meeting. You don't have to worry, we are a very tolerant school and if anyone bothers you, you can come directly to me."

A sound of sheer glee escaped Lorcan.

Aelin continued, "I mean it. I was pleased to see both of you today. I was also pleased to see Robyn smiling so much." she concluded, looking the little one in the face.

Rowan took a deep breath, bracing himself, "No, I meant, we're not a couple. We're not gay. He's her uncle."

The woman's blonde eyebrows shot up and a second later she turned almost as red as the dress Robyn was wearing as Lorcan shook his head muttering something very much like 'you're no fun', which made Robyn giggle.

"Why did you even get off the car?" he asked him exasperated.

Lorcan shrugged, "Because I missed my little bean, you monster." he replied, clutching Robyn to his chest. The little girl clutched Lorcan's shirt in her chubby little hands and Rowan huffed, shaking his head.

Aelin brought her hands to her face, leaning against the desk behind her. She shook her head, her face still hidden, "Oh, god. I'm so sorry."

Lorcan let out a dry laugh, "Don't worry about it. It was fun while it lasted." then he turned to Rowan again, who was still trying to recover from the idea of being involved in a relationship with his friend, "You're really no fun."

"Yeah, no fun dad." repeated Robyn.

Silence fell over the class. Rowan looked at her with wide eyes and blinked once, twice. Robyn was staring at him with a sweet scowl that mimicked so much that of the man who was still holding her, but Rowan couldn't get over the fact that his daughter had spoken while Aelin was still beside them.

He was about to talk, noticing how Robyn had started squirming in Lorcan's arms, when there was a knock at the door.

They both turned, Aelin peering over Rowan's shoulder, and saw the figure of a petite girl with black hair and eyes standing in the doorway, watching them with her head slightly bent to the side. She had a tag on her t-shirt that was too colourful to belong to someone who didn't work in a school with children, so he guessed she was a teacher herself. Besides, Rowan felt like he'd seen her elsewhere. Probably every day when he picked Robyn up from school, he said to himself.

"I know you're not supposed to eavesdrop but I stopped by earlier and heard you were a couple of dads," she said by way of introduction. "I just wanted to reassure you that the school is an extremely safe place. I'm the one who did most of the interviews with the parents," that's where they had met then, "and one of the questions that is asked is just about the tolerance of the people who will be attending the school."

Aelin watched her, remaining silent the whole time and putting on an amused smile, nodded, "That's what I was telling them. How tolerant the school is. They make such a cute couple, don't you think, Elide?"

Rowan turned to her, arching an eyebrow, silently asking her what she was doing. The woman, as if she could truly understand what he was trying to convey to her, nodded her head towards Lorcan, who Rowan only then noticed was standing weirdly, his eyes fixed on the woman in the doorway.

He grinned, deciding to take his revenge right away. "Oh, yes. Thank you so much for the reassurance," Rowan began to play along as well. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Lorcan turn towards him, dropping Robyn to the floor, who made a disapproving noise at being dumped so suddenly. "We are happy to know that this school is a safe place for our daughter. And for us."

Elide offered him a blinding smile, "Good. I'm happy to hear that you are pleased so far. And I am happy that Aelin is the one who is taking your daughter's class. She's the best one here."

Rowan didn't know her yet, but he knew the thing Elide had just said could only be true.

"Well," she said again, giving them an apologetic smile, "I really must go now, but if you need anything, you can find all my contact details on the website. Have a nice day!"

Aelin and Rowan said their goodbyes, thanking her. Lorcan took a while to recover, but when he realised he was staring into empty space he ran towards the door, almost stepping on little Robyn, who was moved by Aelin.

"We are very much not gay, miss!" he shouted into the hallway. Aelin, now beside him and with a hand on Robyn's shoulder, cackled. With Lorcan's infinite luck, someone walked by just then and gave him a stern look. "Oh, shut up ma'am. I'm an ally. The best ally."

Rowan shook his head as Lorcan launched himself in pursuit of the poor teacher and burst out laughing when he heard him shout, "I'm not homophobic! I'm willing to suck someone's cock if I have to prove it to you!"

Aelin opened her mouth wide before bursting out laughing in turn.

Robyn, seeing both adults so happy, giggled too and Rowan bent down to pick her up. The little girl laid her full head of white-light hair on his shoulder and closed her eyes.

She was tired and Rowan really needed to get her home to sleep.

He glanced at Aelin and reduced his lips to a thin line, "I'm sorry about the commotion, I'll try not to bring him into the building again. Even if it means tying him to the seat."

The soft laugh she gave made something tighten in his chest. He frowned.

Aelin didn't seem to notice the effect she had on him, "Don't worry, Elide is crazy about fools like him. If he says the right things, we might start seeing each other outside of school too."

Rowan nodded, now too caught up in the thought of having to take Robyn home to focus on anything else.

They agreed on when to hold the parent-teacher meeting and then he grabbed Robyn's backpack, walking towards the exit.

He was thoughtless as he reached into his pocket for his keys and balanced everything else - including the girl - on his other arm, but when Robyn's hand brushed his cheek, he looked down and his eyes met their twins. Green against green.

"What is it?"

The little girl's voice never stopped making him smile. Each time was like the first time she had said dada.

"I really like her."

Rowan frowned, "Who?"

"Miss Aelin." she whispered, almost as if she was afraid they might hear her.

He smiled at her, "Yeah? You like her?"

"She's nice to me."

Rowan had to put her down as he opened the door and let her get into the back seats by herself.

"I'm glad she's treating you well, love," he let her know, buckling her in.

He hoped she'd tell him more about her new teacher, but like any kid her age, the topic of conversation couldn't last for more than four lines apiece, "Where's Uncle Lorcan?"

Rowan snorted, "No idea, little bird."

Robyn nodded, "Elide is pretty too."

And as if those words had summoned him, Lorcan appeared beside the car, making them both scream. He entered the car in a heartbeat and turned to his daughter, who was still settling into the seat. "Do you know Miss Lochan?"

But before she could answer him, Rowan had entered the car in turn and smacked the back of his head, which made the Robyn giggle, "You're not using my daughter as your wingman. Now stop it and buckle up."

Lorcan gave him a gentle push, before doing as he was told and for once he was happy he'd convinced him to do something.

Or at least, Rowan thought he had convinced him.

"What if I left you a note to deliver to Miss Lochan, Rob? Would you be up for it?"

Rowan knew, even without looking at her, that she was nodding emphatically.

Keeping his eyes on the road, he murmured, "Could you stop calling my daughter Rob, please? You'll give her an existential crisis."

Lorcan clicked his tongue against his palate, "Rowan, I'm not giving her a damn thing. We live in this new world, okay? Your daughter could be called Simon and still be a beautiful princess. Grow up and educate yourself before you talk shit."

"Aaaah!" shouted Robyn, "Bad word!"

Rowan sighed and shook his head, but still he was smiling.

This was his life. Had been for the past two years.

And he wouldn't change it for the world.

tog tag list (if you wanna be added or removed just dm me or send me an ask)

@maastrash @ireallyshouldsleeprn @sleeping-and-books @hellasblessed @thegoddessofyou @ghostlyrose2 @claralady @sayosdreams @perseusannabeth @letstakethedawn @terrible-and-proud @post-it-notes33 @booksstorm @nalgenewhore @queen-of-demons-and-hell @lanyjoy-13 @vasudharaghavan @cupcakey00 @bri-loves-sunflowers @queen-of-glass @thewayshedreamed @the-regal-warrior @fangirlprincess09 @januarystears @rowaelinismyotp @starbornsinger @bookstantrash @thegreyj @feysand-loml @autumnbabylon @a-court-of-milkandhoney @highqueenofelfhame @story-scribbler @mariamuses @rhysandswingspan @tanvee1231

#rowaelinmonth #rowaelin #rowan whitethorn #aelin galathynius #tog #throne of glass #rowaelin fic #fluff #rowaelin month day ten

207 notes · View notes

ivy-loves-chocolate · 3 years

Note

How about Albert Wesker falling in love with reader at first sight hc..

Of course :)

┌────────────────────────── · · · · ♡

-> it’s new to him. The tickling he feels in his stomach, the faster heartbeat, the sweating, all these feelings are not familiar to him, and he mistakes them for a sickness. How an immortal being like him can get sick? He ran countless tests, but he found nothing. He was a healthy man in his 40s.

-> his sister brought the concept of "love at first sight" concept to him in one of their discussions. He called her childish, they fought, but it left Wesker with a new perspective.

-> logic began to fade when he started to feel needier and needier to see his s/o. He follows her, without listening to his reasoning. He tells himself that he would continue to do that until he finds his words. Hours turn into days, then into months, but Wesker keeps following his habits of stalking.

-> he feels like losing his words when he is around her. All his words get stuck in his throat and he is unable to form a coherent speech. Even if he doesn't talk with her, he is somehow present in her life. Wesker makes sure to drop a little attention from time to time: raise, flowers, jewelry.

-> she feels something is strange, but despite that, she enjoys the little attention, even if she wants to know the identity of her secret admirer. She gets a clue when she notices Wesker spying around the corner. What’s creepier is that he vanishes when they made eye contact.

"I think the CEO is following me."

"Damn, you don't have long to live then." One of her coworkers teased. "You fucked up somehow."

"You are very helpful."

"It was nice meeting you in your human form, please don't kill me once you become a tyrant." He said in a dramatic tone, not paying attention to her story. The CEO rarely left his office, so what were the chances of personally following his employees.

-> they didn't help, and to her despair, Wesker wasn't easy to catch. she tried making an appointment, but she was turned down every time. Which was weird, because she could still see him in the corner of her eyes. She stopped telling everyone that story too because she will end up seeming insane.

-> his obsession never ended. Even if he never spoke with her, he knew all her past. He knew her current schedule, at what hour she eats, works, sleep. When he leaned over the edge of the wall to spy on his love interest, she suddenly turned, which made him run away.

-> Wesker finally got the courage to speak with her personally. What he was about to say, well, he will figure it out. He will try to be as formal as possible.

-> he approached her desk. It was late, he made sure to give her extra work so they will be alone. The others left hours ago. He approached her desk, noticing how clean everything was. Wesker appreciated a tidy, well-organized woman more than anything.

"Having troubles keeping up?" He said after taking a glance at her computer.

-> his stern voice almost made her jump from her place. She turned around to see her stalker staring at her behind those sunglasses. How he could see at night it was a mystery.

"Please, don't stand," He noticed the woman's attempt to raise. Instead, he pulled a chair and sat next to her.

"N-no, everything is fine sir."

"Please, we don't have to be formal here." He let out a low chuckle. "Call me Wesker." Just how his former STARS members used to call him. Not too formal, not too friendly, somewhere in between enough to make them comfortable.

-> She was so close to him. Of course, she saw him in person a few times, but not so close as they are right now. She couldn’t help but notice how handsome he was, how melodic his voice was and how good she felt in his company. She was a little frightened at first, but the more she stayed with him, the faster her fears disappeared. She started to feel safe. She felt something too, but she didn't pay attention until now. If you can overlook that imposing posture of his, you would find out that you can enjoy his company and feel protected.

"Thank you, Wesker. What brings you to my humble office?"

-> He could notice her shaky voice. He had his cold, tremendous, demeanor even if he didn't want to.

"Despite the rumors, I actually care about my employees." A big fat lie, he couldn't care less. He had people dealing with them, but she was a special case. "I want to make sure you are not overworked. The last thing I need is you fainting in the cafeteria."

"Thank you s- Wesker."

-> How adorable he thought. He hardly found his words because most of his attention was focused on her. She was more attractive from this distance, and with every second that passed, he found himself getting needier and needier.

-> The long silence was broke by Wesker.

"Please, if you encounter any problems don't hesitate to contact me, personally."

"Thanks again. Actually, I kept trying to contact you these past weeks."

-> Wesker was getting nervous. He had a feeling why, so he started to move in his chair.

"Maybe I have hallucinations, but I kept seeing you around as if you were stalking me. I tried making an appointment but that secretary kept ignoring me."

-> he knew, he was the one who told his secretary to turn her off every time she would demand to see him.

"I see. Maybe you are overworking yourself. I can assure you that I have more important things than to follow my employees around."

-> that what she thought. She seemed to believe him.

"So that means you are not going to turn me into a tyrant?"

-> Wesker couldn't contain his laugher. She was indeed innocent and naive.

"Of course not," he said between sobs. "So this is how badly people are speaking of me?"

-> he prays this is the worst thing she heard about him. He'll make sure to find out who's been spreading rumors around, and turn them into reality for them, but now he didn't focus on his revenge plan, but on the discussion with the woman in front of him.

-> He found so much more about her personality, things he couldn't find in any file. He got a call and had no choice but to end the conversation. They walked together to the elevators, where they parted away, but not without ensuring her it's ok to come to his office whenever he needs, without an appointment.

-> She kept receiving gifts even after their meeting, but now they were signed.

His bold round handwriting was on every present.

"Wesker".

└────────────────────────── · · · · ♡

If you like my blog, please consider visiting my ko-fi page: Ko-fi.com/karenontumblr

#resident evil #albert wesker #resident evil village #albert wesker x reader #albert wesker fic

254 notes · View notes

maomao-words · 3 years

Text

Here is another self-indulgent piece of writing! (✿´‿`)

I binged Blue Lock’s manga in 3 days and I am now left with an empty void that I’m trying to fill by writing about my favorite characters in it.

On a side-note, I always seem to think of them as 18-19 years old.

Contains few spoilers on some characters’ ranks after the Third Selection!

Being their Personal Manager at Blue Lock: (Itoshi Rin, Seishiro Nagi, Hyoma Chigiri)

Rin Itoshi:

Being assigned to the 1st ranker in all of Blue Lock immediately after your adaptability test barely shocked anyone. At this point in time where the whole existence of Blue Lock centered around Itoshi Rin, it was more than obvious that Rin would only receive the utmost care and the very best of the candidates as his manager.

Ranking first in the agonizingly harsh Entrance Exam and managing to out best all 600 other candidates from over the country, you were always the sole choice for Itoshi Rin’s personal manager.

You were already familiar with Rin’s character, preferences, weaknesses, strengths, diet and overall living style. You even had his body measurements down to the millimeter engraved in your brain. You thought yourself as perfectly ready to assist him in his endeavor, but reality soon proved you slightly wrong.

Meeting the genius called Itoshi Rin for the first time, you swore your blood ran cold within your veins the minute his eyes locked with yours. An oppressive aura, suffocating enough to send shivers down your back, surrounded you immediately the minute you stepped into his room. It took all of your willpower not to tremble in front of him.

Rin’s gaze did not move from yours for what seemed like an eternity, but noticing no visible signs of fear or submission on you, his lips slightly curved in a smirk and he finally stood up from his chair, discarding your test results on the table nearby.

“Not bad. She’ll do for now.”

Once you gained Rin’s initial approval, you started your mission as his closest aid. From the moment Rin opened his eyes to the minute he closed his door at night to sleep, you never left his side. You calculated his calories intake and planned his meals accordingly. You carefully reserved the training field and machines to Rin’s own wishes, making absolute sure they are available for Rin to use without any interruption or interference from other players. You planned, ran around, filled up water bottles and picked up emergency kits more quickly than you have ever did back in your own school’s competitive soccer club. You did that over and over again, to the point that you felt like dying. Until you finally broke down.

But being Itoshi Rin’s personal aid did not even offer you the privilege of breaking down in public. You waited until the day’s clamor and chaos was over. You meticulously prepared Rin’s lunch and reminded him to take the few tablets of vitamins afterwards before finally excusing yourself.

Rin raised a brow in faint confusion, as you have never willingly separated yourself from his side, even during meals. But the wound within your chest has finally festered to the point of no return, and you were unable to provide him with a convincing explanation before you gathered your papers and left.

The empty hallway located far from the center cafeteria soon echoed with your faint sobs. You gathered up your knees close to your chest and slowly rocked yourself in hopes of easing your pain. Weeks of harsh labor, zero communication with the outside world as well as the stress that came with handling all of Rin’s demanding responsibilities finally bled over.

You were not giving up. ‘Make no mistake,’ you whispered to yourself between sobs. You were just taking a much earned break before drying up your tears and returning to work.

But just as you began to feel frustrated at the tears still falling on your cheeks, you felt a heavy cloth fall on top of your head accompanied with an extremely familiar fragrance.

You jolted, hand coming up to clutch at Rin’s jacket before glancing up at the tall figure standing by your side. You opened your mouth but a round package slammed into your face next, leaving you to wince in pain.

“Eat that and let’s hurry back. I can’t find my black cleats.”

Rin’s voice echoed in the empty hall, forcing you to bring your attention to the melon bread he threw at you. Sounds of clothes rustling beside you made you look up again, only to find that Rin has sat down beside you, hand coming up to tug you closer to him.

Placing his palm on top of your eyes, Rin’s voice sounded as soft as ever as he whispered.

“Rest. I’m here.”

Seishiro Nagi:

As you stared down at your test results that have finally arrived after a long wait, you suddenly had the urge to cry out.

Why him of all people?

Having extensively studied all of Blue Lock’s key players prior to passing the Entrance Exam as a manager, you were filled with admiration and respect to them and thus felt ready to be assigned to any of them. Any of them but Nagi Seishiro.

A beginning who did not even know the most basic of the basics on football yet somehow blessed enough to be labeled as a genius even among Blue Lock’s outstanding participants. That was Nagi Seichiro.

You abhorred geniuses. You abhorred how easily they reached their goals, how effortlessly they achieved their desires and how the entire world seemed to bow down in front of them. Becoming the personal manager of a hard working individual, like Isagi Yoichi for example, would have made you the happiest woman on the planet. To watch that individual sweat and toil, think and plan all of his minor actions in order to reach the pinnacle of his dreams through both talent and hard work and get to assist him in that process was the reason behind your entrance to Blue Lock.

So when the day where the eleven chosen managers entered the isolated towering building to meet the elite players ranking at the top of the whole project came, all you could taste was bitterness and rage in your mouth.

After Ego finished the basic introductions between managers and players, he gave the green light for you all to start performing your duties. As you began to collect your belongings that were delivered to you by the staff, you could see the tall figure of a young man approaching you from behind.

Without allowing Nagi the faintest chance to offer his help, you hoisted your luggage up with both hands and started walking towards the managers’’ sleeping quarters with only “I will be back shortly” thrown behind your back at the frozen Nagi.

A job was a job after all and you had no intention to slack off because of your personal dislikes. But you will be sure to maintain a professional distance from Blue Lock’s 6th ranker to avoid any unnecessary trouble.

Being Nagi’s personal manager was as hard as you have expected. Having to support a monster who does not cease to evolve with each passing day at a frightening pace would be considered had by anyone’s standards. But you were already aware of the heavy duties imposed on you from the start so you grinded your teeth and bared the pain. The only issue you seemed to have was, unsurprisingly, Nagi himself.

You have intended for your cold treatment the day you both met to be enough warning for the player. You wanted to perform your duties. Nothing less, nothing more. But Nagi seemed to have another idea on the relationship between you.

He did not hinder your tasks nor act difficult on purpose to harm you, but he also made sure to greet you warmly each morning before plopping his large hand on top of your head and gently pat your hair for a few minutes before leaving.

He made sure to stick close to you during meal time, pushing off whatever he deemed not-tasty to your own plate, and innocently smiling when your try to scold him. He always shared his dessert with you, no matter how many times you tried to lie and tell him you disliked sweets. He constantly tried his best not to overburden you with questions on players and tactics and carefully chose the times where you were free enough to answer him.

In short, Nagi Seichiro was a weirdo. A weirdo you wanted to choke.

As the time went by, your perspective on Nagi was entirely transformed, despite yourself. You started to put extra care into his meals, go beyond what is required of you when it came to taking care of his training schedule and treatment and even sacrifice some of your free time in order to answer as much of his questions as you can.

One morning, as Nagi stepped in the room and smiled brightly at you, you found yourself moving in closer to him before raising your arms and catching him in a tight hug. Nagi almost stumbled in surprise, but managed to stable you both as he wrapped his hands behind your back. But before he could even utter a word, your mouth opened and a joyful, “Good morning Sei-chan!” came out.

Hyoma Chigiri:

“Are you sure you wish to be assigned to Chigiri?” Ego’s detached voice echoed in the almost empty hall, stopping you in your tracks. The results of the Blue Lock Entrance Exam for managers were just announced and the chosen eleven were asked to pack up and be ready to leave in a two-hours frame.

“You do realize that your rank actually qualifies you to become Itoshi’s Rin support, don’t you?” Ego’s fingers tapped on the table in a rhythmic manner, not stopping even as you glared at him.

“Yes, sir, I am well aware of that fact. But my decision will not change.” Your voice, calm and steady, caused Blue Lock’s host to grin, his raven locks falling to the side as he tilted his head to inspect you closely. “A calculative, rational and logical tactician as you, who managed to outrank all 600 other participants in a six hour long exam, is moved by mere personal emotions?”

It was hard for any regular person to detect the mockery dripping from each of Ego’s words and not feel their blood boiling within their veins. Only you slightly smirked at Ego, eyes curving in genuine mirth as you joyfully answered: “Yes! Is there any problem?”

All the struggles you have faced so far in order to reach this point were, after all, done for the sake of one person: Hyoma Chigiri. Specializing in medical treatment and athletic injuries as a manager was not a coincidence. You have long became aware of your intense desire to support Chigiri and aid him in his journey to achieve his dreams. No matter how many people laughed at you both, no matter how many criticized your choices and claimed you could do much, much better than an injured boy, playing on borrowed time, your resolve never shook.

As you finally locked eyes with Chigiri after your arrival at Blue Lock, you saw how his shoulders slightly trembled and his eyes widened, and your resolve was instantly renewed. Not many words were needed as you playfully extended your hand to shake Chigiri’s own. He was aware that you were there for him and that you will not change your mind no matter what he says or does.

Your duties at Blue Lock were slightly easier than your fellow managers simply due to the fact that you were already familiar with Chigiri’s routine. Needing no time to adjust, you dove head first into taking care of Chigiri, putting the well-being of his knee as your utmost priority. You tried your best not to bite your lips each time you bent down to take a look at the previously injured area, fully knowing that Chigiri has made his peace with the incident and was now focusing on moving on with no regrets.

Your favorite task to perform was, and still is, taking care of Chigiri’s silky hair. You were faced with his slightly damaged locks the day you arrived at Blue Lock’s building and Chigiri had to apologize a couple of times for ruining the hair you treasured the most. Ever since then, you returned to your usual task of picking hair products for him, drying and styling his hair depending on Chigiri’s schedule for the day. Braids were your go-to style but you also enjoyed changing things up, knowing that it made Chigiri happy each time you tried to come up with a new hairdo.

Now that you were finally reunited with your childhood friend and lover, you were ready to give it your all and see it all to its final end.

#blue lock #blue lock manga #itoshi rin #seishirou nagi #hyoma chigiri #itoshi rin x reader #nagi seishiro x reader #hyoma chigiri x reader

539 notes · View notes

fruitcoops · 3 years

Note

I was wondering if I could request something? Maybe Sirius' first night at the Dumais' place and Dumo can straight away tell that somethings wrong. Sirius makes polite conversation and it all looks so painful until he retires for the night and Dumo passes by his room and he hears Sirius crying maybe? Because of what his mother said, and maybe because he has trouble adjusting to new situations? Just an idea that popped into my head :) Only if you want to write it <3 Thank you

Yes, I can! I love writing Dumo, but for some reason I don't do it that often--his and Sirius' dynamic is just so wholesome and wonderful. SW credit goes to @lumosinlove!

TW for implied child abuse and broken glass (no injury)

The first thing Pascal Dumais noticed about Sirius Black was how quiet he was. At only eighteen years old, Sirius was taller than most of the other Lions, with broad shoulders and gangly limbs. Yet he moved almost silently, padding along the wood floors in his socks and speaking only when spoken to. It was…honestly, a bit unsettling.

Dumo had expected a rambunctious teenage boy, still high on the thrill of being drafted to the NHL—instead, he found himself the guardian-slash-landlord of a ghost. Sirius unloaded his meager belongings with little fuss and accepted no help, his pale eyes never lingering on either of them for too long.

Celeste poked her head into the living room in the early afternoon when they returned from the grocery store; Sirius was sitting ramrod straight in the smallest chair they had with a thick book in his hands. She knocked gently on the doorframe, and he jumped. “Sirius, would you like some lunch?”

“I don’t want to be any trouble,” he said in that unusually soft voice.

“It’s no trouble,” she assured him.

“I can make myself a sandwich if you have other things to do. Really, I’m alright.”

“When was the last time you ate?”

Sirius blinked, as if he hadn’t expected her to ask, then glanced at the clock on the wall. “I had breakfast at seven and a granola bar on the plane.”

“Sirius, it’s almost two.”

“Is it?”

“Come with me for a moment, oui?” She ushered him into the kitchen; Dumo wasn’t sure he would ever get used to seeing someone so physically imposing walk so small.

“Papa?” Someone tugged on the hem of his shirt and he snapped out of his daze, leaning down to lift Adele into his arms with a smile.

“Bonjour, mon chou! Did you have fun outside?” She nodded, wiggling a little in her excitement, and put her hands on either side of his face. Dumo’s stomach sank. “Why are your hands wet?”

“I washed them!”

“Why?”

“Because we played with chalk!”

Both the boys were at day camp, and Katie was down for her afternoon nap. Dumo wracked his brain. “Who were you playing with?”

“Sirius!” she giggled, then held the front of her shirt out. Wasn’t she wearing a different one this morning?“An’ he said chalk stains, so he lifted me up so I could wash my hands and helped me get my new shirt on when it got stuck and let me braid his hair! Can we keep him? Please, Papa, I wanna keep him forever!”

Dumo kissed her forehead as a wave of emotion tickled the back of his throat. Less than six hours in their home, and Sirius was already connecting with his children. “Oui, we can. Did you say thank you?”

Adele bit her lower lip. “I don’t remember.”

“Sirius?” Dumo called. The clanking in the kitchen stopped. “Can you come here for a moment?”

There was a beat of silence before he appeared in the doorway, looking paler than before as he walked over to them. This boy needs to eat more, the parental part of Dumo’s brain thought instantly. Slate-grey eyes flickered between them. “She—she had chalk on her shirt. I’m sorry, I should have asked.”

“It’s alright. What do you say?” Dumo asked, turning to Adele.

She turned a beaming smile on Sirius. “Thank you!”

His whole face softened in the blink of an eye and he smiled back, giving her a light fist bump. “Pas de problem, petit papillon.”

-------------------------------

Sirius opened up a bit over lunch; Adele perched herself right in his lap with her peanut butter sandwich to his clear astonishment, but his smiles came easier after that and Dumo treasured each one. He was already grateful that Sirius did not seem like the type of asshole player that Dumo remembered from his high school years.

Marc and Louis returned to the house just as they finished, and though Sirius offered to help wash the dishes—the boy was a blessing, really—they shooed him off to play with the kids for a while. It would do them all some good to get out in the sun.

“Quiet, isn’t he?” Celeste remarked as they stood side-by-side at the sink. Her tone was casual, but Dumo saw the worry in her eyes.

He hummed in agreement. “He’s probably just nervous, mon amour. They can take a while to warm up.”

“Pascal, I don’t think—”

The sound of shattering glass echoed from the other room. The house held its breath. “Is everyone alright?” Dumo called, drying his hands on the nearest towel as his pulse picked up. “What happened?”

Hushed whispers floated out, followed by the pitter-patter of little feet. He hurried down the hall with Celeste hot on his heels. “I’m so sorry,” Sirius said as they entered the room. He was kneeling on the wood floor, gathering fragments of a small water glass in one palm. “It was my fault. I hit it with my elbow.”

Celeste frowned. “Boys? Adele? I know you were here.”

Dumo didn’t miss Sirius’ hard swallow, nor the sudden nervousness—no, that was fear—on his face as the three kids crept out from around the corner, looking guiltier than anything. Adele stepped forward, but Sirius stood in a smooth, instinctive motion, keeping her behind him. “It was my fault,” he repeated. Dumo’s heart sank.

“Adele, is that true?”

She looked up toward Sirius, who kept his broad hand ever so slightly in front of her shoulder. Celeste raised an eyebrow. “Adele Marie, tell the truth.”

“No,” she said.

“Come here, please.” Dumo watched Sirius’ breaths go shallow as Celeste beckoned to Adele, but confusion took its place when she crouched to her level. “Thank you. What Sirius did was very nice, but we don’t let other people take the fall for our mistakes in this house, Adele. We accept responsibility. Who broke the cup?”

“I was chasing Marc and we both bumped into the table,” Adele confessed, toying with the hem of her butterfly-patterned shirt. “It was an accident, I promise.”

“Did anyone get hit by the glass?” Dumo asked. All three shook their heads. “Sirius?”

He cleared his throat. “No, Mr. Dumais.”

“Marc, Adele, I want you to find the broom and dustpan so your mother and I can clean this up. Thank you for being honest. Sirius, there’s a trash can in the kitchen, but be careful of the sharp edges. And please, call me Pascal or Dumo.”

But he didn’t stop thinking about the visible alarm on Sirius’ face when Celeste brought Adele forward all afternoon. Something was not right.

--------------------------------

If it wasn’t for the baby, Dumo would not have heard it.

Katie woke around midnight with a quiet whine, which devolved into whimpering, and finally into full-out sobbing for over half an hour. He carried her downstairs so she wouldn’t wake the others and gently rocked her, humming lullabies under his breath until his throat was dry and her tears abated. “There’s my good girl,” he murmured, drying her pudgy cheeks with his sleeve.

The last bits of sleep faded away as he set her down in her crib again, and he sighed. The season didn’t start for more than a month, but he had been looking forward to a few consecutive nights of solid rest before then.

May as well check on the others, he thought, wandering down the hallway in his thickest socks and bathrobe to stave off the nighttime chill. Marc and Louis were each out cold; he took the open book splayed across Marc’s bed and set it on his dresser, turning the lamp off as he left. Adele was curled into a tight ball around no less than four of her precious stuffed animals and he tucked the blankets back over her shoulder.

Dumo’s feet carried him down the stairs before his brain fully caught up, and he paused—Sirius had been in their house for a single day, and already he had the urge to look out for him. The thought should have made him feel silly, but instead he felt…peaceful. He felt right. There was a lost and near-silent boy in his home, who protected his kids within hours of knowing them. Of course Dumo was going to make sure he was alright.

Summer wind rushed past the wide windows as he headed toward the basement. It was warmer there, and he took a moment to mentally pat himself on the back for remodeling two years prior. Hopefully, Sirius would be comfortable.

A soft sound broke through his thoughts. Dumo stopped on the last step.

There was a harsh breath, then a sniffle, as if the person inside was trying and failing to keep their tears in past the point of no return. He heard a few shaky, weak inhales, then a choked noise that cut off abruptly with a gulp.

Dumo closed his eyes to hold back tears of his own and knocked lightly on the bedroom door.

Everything went silent with a rustle.

“Sirius?” he whispered, raising his voice just enough to be heard through the door. “Are you awake?”

There was no answer.

“Can I come in?” he ventured.

An unsteady voice answered. “Ouais.”

The door creaked a little as he opened it and stepped into the dark room. Sirius was nothing more than a clump of shadows on the far side of the bed, squished tight against the wall with all his blankets wrapped around him. “What happened?”

“Nothing. Je vais bien.”

“Can I sit?” Dumo fully expected Sirius to tell him ‘no’, to make an excuse, to pull some arrogant teenager nonsense.

Instead, he tucked his legs up and made room near the foot of the bed with another sniffle. “Did I wake you?”

“Non. Katie was crying, and I thought I’d check on everyone.” He settled down and scooted until his back was against the wall as well—Sirius was still hiding in a cocoon of his duvet, but his hand came up to wipe his face. “Do you want to talk?”

“About what?”

“You seem upset. I know the homesickness is hard for the first few days, but—”

“No.” The vehemence of Sirius’ answer shocked him into silence. “No. I’m not homesick. I just—so much has happened, and I—it’s—this is everything I wanted, right here, and—”

He broke off with a wounded noise that broke Dumo’s poor heart right down the middle. He moved closer until their shoulders touched; to his surprise, Sirius leaned on him and shivered. “How can I help you?” Dumo asked quietly.

“Your family…” Sirius shook his head and drew the covers tighter. “You have a beautiful family. You should be proud of them.”

“I am, every day.”

“Your kids love you so much.” It was barely more than a whisper.

Dumo sighed through his nose. “I know.”

“No, you don’t, they—you’re their hero. And not because of hockey.”

That was Dumo’s dream, laid out right in front of him. If someone he hardly knew could see that, then it must be true. The impact was greater than he ever could have imagined; his lungs felt tight. “Thank you. Is it alright if I ask you something?”

Sirius stiffened slightly.

“You’re not in trouble, and you don’t have to answer if you don’t want to. I’m just…worried.”

He felt Sirius shift. “This is about the glass.” It wasn’t a question.

“Oui.” Dumo searched for the words and scrounged up any sliver of tact he could find. “Sirius, do you—what happens when you break a glass at your house?”

Sirius’ breath rushed from his lungs in a near-silent sob. Dumo gathered him close in his arms and held him, letting tears dampen his shoulder as he murmured soft reassurances in French. “I’m sorry,” Sirius croaked, though he did not move away. “I’m sorry for—for intruding, and for ruining your shirt—”

“You have nothing to be sorry for.” Dumo gave him a light squeeze of comfort and felt him go a bit boneless. “And you are not intruding. We love having you here with us.”

“Really?”

He sounded so unsure. So young. Dumo wished he could take away whatever horrible things had been said to ever make someone so kind feel so small. “Yes. Adele, especially.”

“She’s so…colorful.” Fondness dripped from every word.

“She is,” Dumo agreed. “She came running up to me, and went ‘papa, papa, can we keep him?’”

Sirius laughed a little at his imitation and straightened up, drying his eyes on his hoodie sleeve. They sat quietly for a while until the shaking stopped and his death grip on the comforter loosened. “Thank you, Mr. Dumais.”

“Call me Pascal, or Dumo if you like. ‘Mr. Dumais’ makes me sound like a grandfather.” They laughed together, then fell silent once more. “And you’re welcome. Any time you need help, you can come to me. I might not be your father, but—”

“You’re better,” Sirius interrupted, wiping his nose. His shadow turned to face Dumo in the dark, and though he couldn’t see his face, he could picture the earnest expression. “In every way. Please don’t tell anyone about this, though.”

“It never even crossed my mind,” Dumo answered honestly. “I should let you sleep now. We have some busy weeks ahead of us, eh?”

“Bonne nuit, M—Dumo.” The name carried new weight and he let it sink in as Sirius laid back down and kicked his blankets back into place. Something told him this was the beginning of a very interesting story.

“Bonne nuit, Sirius. Welcome to our home.”

#fanfic #my fic #sweater weather #lumosinlove #sirius black #pascal dumais #celeste dumais #dumais kids

257 notes · View notes