#despite what i thought this fic is not writing itself?? bizarre

[raggaraddy]

hello if you want you can ignore this of course but I was wondering what would vampire Hoseok do if he found out someone turned oc? Your fics are amazing by the way!

Bitten to death

A/N: Thank you for your request :) It was fun to write. However I took it less as a reaction, and more of a story prompt. So it's not exactly a conclusive answer to your question. I hope you still like it, though ^-^ 💜💜💜

Summary: You thought you knew everything about Vampires but when you wake up one you learn there are some important things you did not know. And it's only going to let worse once you learn why you were turned.

Trigger Warnings: Blood, death, maiming, choking, violence, mind control, abduction, yandere themes.

Vampire! Hoseok

It was like a horror story within your already horrific story. Some man you've never met before broke into Hoseok's house when only you were there. While you screamed and fought and instinctively called for Hoseok, he covered you in bites unlike any other you had felt before. Ones that made you suffer as if fire was coursing through your veins. You wish that you could say you were strong enough that your fight had some kind of impact. But in truth, it was over after only a few seconds. And it was in those few seconds that you felt your chest burning and your breath fill your lungs for the last time.

Waking you're met by the stranger hovering above you. Your head aching and your body throbbing in ways you had never experienced before. With a quick glance, you can see everything around you, and that does mean everything. Every single little detail. And the information is overwhelming.

Your mind feels as if it's breaking from everything you're taking in. For as far as you can see there are pallets and long isles of shelves lined up, the contents on every rack crystal clear. You can hear the sound of his shoes on the concrete and the dirt gritting underneath, and how each peak of sound travels and bounces off the farthest point in the warehouse. Even the smells, there are hundreds of them all hitting you at once. A few you know like the fragrance of the treated wood or the oils stain, but others you couldn't guess at. It's as if all of your senses are on high and you have no way to focus them.

Despite your panic, no matter how much you want to run, you can't. Laying on your back with your arms spread out to either side of you and your legs held together, you're being bound by the thinnest most delicate length of silver chain. Though, it's not tied. It's only draped over you, but still holding you as if it were stronger than any steel. Burning you as if it were touched by the sun.

You may have only seen a few newly made vampires before, but you have still been around them enough and know enough about their existence to recognize how and why your body feels wrong. And absurdly you can't help but feel betrayed. This was not supposed to happen to you. It was the only safety you got from belonging to someone who was called The Immortal King, and The Origin of Cruelty. No one was supposed to be foolish enough to steal from him, and most importantly, no one was supposed to be able to hurt you. But now because Hobi didn't keep you safe, he's now lost his blood supply and you've lost your humanity.

The stranger snaps his fingers, the sound bursting in your eardrums making you groan and wince as he repeats it. "Focus your attention on just this one sound. On just the sight of my hand. Feel the air around it." He coaxes you, snapping again. The noise echos dozens of times, ricocheting off every wall. The dull thud of his fingertips hitting his palm only sounding the once though.

Opening your eyes your concentration goes to the hand held above your face as he said, the space around it blurring. On the back of his pointer finger on an otherwise porcelain complexion, you notice a small patch of dry skin just below his knuckle. Clear blue-black defined veins wrapping the back of his palm. He clicks his fingers again and you catch the sound of friction from the way his finger rubs down his thumb, feeling the most minuscule shift in the air created by his motion.

The pinpointed attention helps for a moment, but then you shift your eyes to his face and the explosion of information overpowers you again. His hold comes around your neck keeping your head from turning. The tight pressure on your throat while stifling your movement, nearly makes you smile. There's no airflow to restrict. Your chest isn't heating, your body isn't convulsing trying to breathe. Even in this tense moment, you can't help but find it humorous, thinking how many times over the years had you wished for this exact thing when Hobi had squeezed the air from you.

"Watch my eyes," on his words your vision becomes immersed in them. They're piercing blue. Made up of streaks of white interlacing with a clear sapphire shade, like thousands of threads made out of the purest tropical ocean. A transparent irregular line encircling his pupil, and beyond that every distinct strand blurs together with the others until it reaches the shadowed grey edge that holds the circular shape. Slowly his jet black pupils dilate, stretching and filling his entire iris till every trace of colour is removed. As if transfixed, you're unable to close your own eyes, a flooding of bright light filling your field of view. The strength of it is so intense that the tendons in your sockets ache and your eyes begin to water. Tears rolling down the sides of your face, cresting in your ears.

"Apologies, you are only my second." He confuses you with a vague explanation you did not ask for. The black finally receding into its natural size. Your own eyes scrunching as you try to blink away the soreness. The bizarre occurrence leaving you feeling drained of strength, filling you with anxiety caused by the uncertainty, which is only worsened by the glimmer of triumph in his gaze.

Searching past him to the ceiling your brain is again processing the whole image instead of the sum of its parts. The strain in your head slowly fading, your tight held muscles releasing as everything begins to normalize. You don't know what he did, but it seemed to help.

He doesn't back away, continuing to invade your personal space. Although, the way his fingers are trailing along your skin while you're restrained on the floor is still not the worst thing he has done to you. Seeing as he killed you.

"I had almost given up hope that Jung Hoseok would love." His hand daintily caresses along your neck and up your jaw. Your eyes shutting as his fingertips run over your lips. "I began to fear it might not be something possible for him." He divulges, his touch still aimlessly wandering.

The way he speaks you can feel his vailed anger. Despite his soft words, this is not someone who cares about Hoseok's wellbeing, this is someone who hates him deeply.

"However, you restored my lost faith. And for that, I would like to thank you, Inamorata."

He thinks Hoseok loves you? Is he crazy?. He's possessive of you, that is all. Even in moments of deception or weakness when you had told him that you loved him, he's never said it back with any sincerity. And he has never said it of his own accord.

"Sir," your eyes reopen. "I think you've misunderstood. These," you weakly gesture to the silver, each slight movement searing the links deeper into your flesh. "aren't necessary. We are on the same side. I hate Hobi, more than anyone."

"Truly?" He asks tilting his head to the side. His white hair messily hanging across his forehead.

"Yes," you nod trying to insist your point. "He's kept me locked up for years." you chuckle dryly. Finding it nearly risible that all of this is because this man believes in a fantasy.

"Well then, you are free to rise," he nods resolutely. Plucking the chains out of your melted skin as you grit your teeth. The sound of the sizzle on his own skin baffling you as to how he can even lift them.

Sitting up you gently pull your limbs in, inspecting the blistered and bloody marks. The skin on your wrists already starting to intricately knit itself back together.

"Come here." The stranger calls from a rested place on one of the pallets to your right.

Standing, it is a bit hard to walk with your ankles still cut up but you make it to him decently. Looking around you, you can see the sun streaming in from the high windows that line the whole length of the warehouse. It's enough to light up the otherwise dark space, but with the sheer size of this place, the beams of sunlight do not get close to the two of you in the centre. Still in the middle of the day, it means Hobi can't get to you. Not easily at least. So you're on your own for now.

"Kneel." He instructs plainly. And you follow, lowering onto your knees in front of him. Your only thoughts are of escape. You may be in your first minutes as a vampire, but it should be simple to move quickly. It always seemed like something that came easily to them. "Inamorata, you will call me Master." he declares abruptly.

"Yes, Master." You smile confusedly. Inamorata? Why does he keep calling you that? You're unsure if it's a name or a title, but it's weirding you out.

Your face drops, your heart thumping, realizing what you said. The words you just spoke replaying in your head. You hadn't meant to say that.

Why did you say that?

In fact, why had you knelt? Why were you doing what he said at all?

With a gaped mouth you climb back to your feet. "Look, I think-um." You start not knowing what you want to say.

"Kneel." He orders again more forcefully yet with a knowing, jovial smirk. You shake your head hard, staying upright. You're not going to let him order you around. He has to be kidding.

Your brows furrow, your mouth drops open, and your forehead tightens as your knees bend against your wishes. You drop back into your knelt position. Grunting as your jaw clenches, your fingers digging into your legs, doing your best to resist without success.

Your eyes go wide in shock.

"Good. Now stay there," his voice makes your stomach drop. But your muscles relax, your shoulders dropping and your bottom lowering on your calves. Your body resting in this position.

This is nothing you have ever seen before. It's nothing that you knew was possible. It shouldn't be possible. On top of all the horrible advantages they already have, you're sure you would have known if mind control was one of them!

"How?" You gape, shaking your head in disbelief. "Why?"

"Why?" a smile fills his face, "What you have told me is far different than what I had heard." He stands and turns, tapping his foot against the top pallet sending it and its boxed contents flying. He grabs at the bottom slats of wood underneath and drags them closer to you with a horrid screeching on the concrete. Sitting back down he is now much lower and much nearer to you. So much so that his legs spread straight out on either side of you. "See, I had heard stories of the self-proclaimed King of Vampires, who had fallen in love with his human pet. That he kept her close, kept her safe, and drank from her exclusively."

"That's not love." you interrupt with a scoff, "That's imprisonment."

"Well, let us see what the truth is. Tell me honestly, Jung Hoseok's little Inamorata, do you love him?"

"Yes." You're mouth answers before your mind has time to think. "No!" you instantly correct.

The smile grows larger on his face "And what do you feel about him?"

"I'm scared of him. But I care for him." The words are pouring out of you uncontrollably, your face placifying as you speak. "and I miss him when he isn't home."

"And does he love you?"

"I think so, yes." You wish you could make yourself shut up! Your calm tone drops and you bite your jaw trying to take back your own body, growling as you do. "No! He doesn't." you snarl in a rapid shift.

"You think so? Then my last question; Do you want him to love you?" He asks satirically.

"Yes," The word slips out. Being accepted joyously from him. "You can't just make me say anything you want!" you shout. Your body is rigid and stiff as you think to stand with nothing happening.

"I did not," he chuckles, "I made you say what you believe is true."

"No, you didn't! Tha-" his finger raises to his lips shushing you, cutting you off like your voice had disappeared.

That is not how you feel! Hobi may have gotten better as time has gone on, but he is still cruel and malicious and heartless. The only thing this man is doing is speaking to your primal brain. The part of you that gave into its survival instinct and it's the part that you fight every day to repress so that you stay in control. You can't love him, it's not possible.

"Ha, you are far more amenable than my last. I can hardly feel any resistance." He mocks, tapping his temple. "And I recall Jung Hoseok trying to move heaven and earth to break free. Even Mansueto struggled to contain him. But you," he reaches down holding out his hand and you follow his gesture, your body moving independently to accept it. "You are a broken little thing."

You don't understand his ridicule. You're not moving consciously. Your own mind isn't connected to your actions. So you can't fathom how your body is even reacting, let alone how you should be able to fight it.

"Stop." You complain, your voice coming out with far less strength than you had intended. "Look, Hoseok doesn't have my blood anymore, okay. So just leave me out of whatever fucked up feud you have you have going with him."

"No, that is not enough." his tone becomes suddenly harsh. He lifts his hand and you stand as he raises it. "He stole someone precious to me and he must feel the same agony of loss."

"You're wrong." you swallow, working to overcome your nerves, "I'm sorry, but you just are. He doesn't love me. I'm not precious." You try to reason, seeing your pleas falling on an unreceptive man.

"We will see."

The sun has barely set before you hear commotion beyond the metal walls.

You had tried over and over to pry information from this man, to convince him to let you leave. But you were unable to gather so much as a name from him, and clearly, you failed to be let go. After a certain point of ignoring you, he stopped you from speaking altogether. Not allowing you to say a word until he permits it. More than that though, he filled your head with many instructions. Telling you how to behave in anticipation of Hoseok's arrival.

100 meters in front of you the locked doors are ripped off their hinges, a dozen men and women pouring into the warehouse with inhuman speed. But as if time slows down your eyes adjust and you can see them, see their movements with full clarity. Hoseok comes in last and straight down the middle into the open square that you all occupy. And you must admit, you are genuinely happy to see him. Now you just want him to hurry up and get you out of here.

The man steps forward to meet them while you are sat on the stack of pallets behind him. Your only instruction at this time is to sit quietly and wait for him to call you. Hating the feeling of being restrained by your own body.

Watching them all lineup versus a single man, you find it comical how outmatched he is.

Hobi always said that when he got tired of playing with your human body, he was going to turn you. And he was furious if anyone robbed him of even your smallest reactions, so clearly, he was going to be beyond pissed that someone sped up his plan, and took your death away from him.

"That's mine," Hoseok puffs up his chest, looking past the man's shoulder to you. 

The only thing that's confusing you, though, is if this man knows who The Vampire King is, why he didn't expect to be met with hell on earth, and why he didn't prepare better.

"Jung Hoseok, always so impolite. Do you not think you should greet an old friend after so many years?"

"We can talk all you like, Kol," Hoseok snarls, finally giving a name to your killer. "Once I get my property back."

"I think you'll find this is my belonging now." he chuckles in a brief pause. Hoseok's expression darkens, his eyes becoming murderous. The fury around him actually making you shiver. "Do you like the modifications I made? She is much more durable now."

Supposedly, Hobi's already noticed your change, because he doesn't look at you again. Instead, the two men have an intense staredown. All of the vampires on his side looking ready to kill on a word.

"And far more obedient. Come here," Kol calls you, holding his hand out at shoulder height for you to take. Moving automatically, you jump down from the stack of wooden pallets placing your fingers on his palm.

Unable to stand the rage on Hoseok's face you look down, just missing the exact moment he charges. But you see an instant later as he is thrown back like a paper doll into four stories of shelves, his weight bringing the metal, the shelves, and the products down on top of him as the whole structure collapses. His men looking as startled as you to see Hoseok so easily discarded.

Before the toppling construction settles, Kol breaks from your side and an incredible, horrible scene breaks out. His speed is something you can't follow, even now. You only see the trail of destruction when he stops. One after the other, he made his way through half of the vampires, ripping them apart. Literally tearing some in two halves. Decorating the square with blood and innards.

The others are as belated and overwhelmed as you, only just having the sense to react as his blurred image stops. When he advances again, this time he doesn't use his quickness for an advantage and simply ploughs through them. They attack all at once, and still as they grab and strike at him, their forces barely move him. And his response is terrifying.

You can only bear to watch the first one. Kol's fist driving through a woman's chest, the horrid cracking of her ribs as he tears it back out making you want to scream. But his orders have you completely silent. Instead, you close your eyes, sealing your hands over your ears. Trying to block out the violent sickening sounds of his destructive rampage.

There's a last thud before it falls quiet again. Your eyes springing open to see as horrific of a sight as you had imagined. He's dripping in blood. Drenched in it. And Hoseok's people are strewn in every which way. Not a single one having survived.

Sauntering through the sea of dead bodies, he makes his way to the side where Hoseok is unmoved, tossing away the beams and panels as if they were nothing. Grabbing him by the ankle, he drags him from the rubble into the clear space in front of you. The man you once thought of as the most powerful in existence, and his troupe of vampires, was completely demolished in mere seconds of work. And you can only watch on with your body shaking. Your hopes of rescue decimated. Your chest aching with worry, even for Hobi's sake.

"Now that it's a more intimate number of us, should we talk?" Kol releases him, brushing past you as he sits where you had before. His action triggering an instruction he provided earlier, forcing you to follow him and kneel at his feet.

Sitting up, Hoseok rubs the back of his hand against a large gash under his eye. The ferocity not having left his mannerisms. "You disappear for 90 years, and you show up to what, gimmie a blood bath." His laugh falls into a grimace as he stands himself back up.

"I was created in the 13th century and you brought infants to a fight with me. What did you think would happen?" Kol asks scornfully.

"I was hoping they would do a little better," He smirks, shrugging off their deaths. "Okay, that's my bad. But still, that doesn't tell me what you want. Or did you just want to remind me that you're still alive?" He taunts, his sardonic nature returning, "Remind me that you're still pissed and you can kick my ass. Good job. You put on quite a show." he smiles, his tongue running over his fangs as he gestures around at the gruesome display. "But she," he points to you with two fingers, bitterness lacing his next words, "is worth nothing to you."

"Oh, she is worth everything to me," Kol slides forward, his hand brushing down the back of your neck, "because she is worth everything to you."

On those words, you get the most heart-wrenching sight. A pang of insecurity shows up in Hoseok's eyes. Uncertainty and something so close to fear. The smile fading as he looks him up and down.

"I am curious, though, Vampire King, do you think she will detest the Sire bond as greatly as you did?" he punctuates the question, tugging your head back by your hair. "If I treat her as Mansueto treated you, how long do think until she breaks?"

With immense speed, Hoseok splinters one of the wooden crates near him, lunging at Kol, aiming to drive the shard into his heart with a roar. But he's caught before his hand ever plunges forward. Instead, Kol takes the sharp wood and spikes it into Hoseok's stomach. Continuing to dominate him with a solid blow, knocking him off his feet, smacking him into the concrete in front of you. Stepping down, he swings his foot punting Hoseok in the chest hurling him back among the remains of his fallen creations.

You had thought if you ever saw Hobi being handled as roughly as he treated you, that you would enjoy the Karma of it. But seeing him so easily immobilized is making you sick with fear and mostly sadness.

With Kol having stood, you're no longer bound on your knees and you scramble to your feet. You want to run to Hoseok's side but before you have the chance Kol drags you into him, his hand wrapped around your waist, his other crudely brushing the hair from off the side of your face.

"Call out to him. Tell him your every feeling." He hushes the order in your ear.

"Hobi!" you yell, not sure you would have even needed to be compelled to want to shout for him. "Get up, please. I'm scared. I wanna go home!"

"Go to him," Kol releases you and you sprint to his side, hardly able to slow your sudden frantic speed.

Doubled over Hoseok is bleeding profusely. He needs your blood- but you can't do that anymore. And you have no idea what to do. You don't know how to help him or how to get out of here. He's the one that is supposed to keep you safe.

Coming from behind you, Kol bends down shoving you out of the way to lift Hoseok by the throat. "Stop!" you follow their movement, hanging on Kol's arm. "Stop! Please." But you have no effect. Instead, he jerks the wood dagger out making Hobi yell in pain.

"Do you recall what you said as you killed our Sire?" Kol whispers maliciously. "You told me that 'I will get over it'." Releasing him, he lets Hoseok plummet to the floor and you drop with him trying to catch his weight. "In 100 years from now, I'll let you see her again and you can tell me if you were able to take your own advice." he smiles spitefully.

"Hobi," you whine lowly. Brushing his hair from his sweat and blood wet forehead. "I don't want to go with him. Rather the devil you know, right," you softly chuckle, trying to pull his energy back.

Even though you know the both of you have no chance at the moment, you guess you're just looking for an affirmation that he isn't going to let you go and let this other man keep you for the next century.

"Please," you whisper, your waterline filling with tears.

Reaching towards you, Hoseok's hand constricts around your throat, pulling you into him like he has countless times before.

"You're mine," he growls through pained grunts. His anger lessened, distress replacing it. But he gives you the answer he could see you searching for.

"Yes," you nod subtly. Closing your eyes as you lean further into his hold.

"Get up," Kol orders, interrupting you.

Despite his tightening grip, you pull away from Hobi, standing as you were told. The elder vampire taking your arm leads you away through the bodies to the open doorway.

"Say goodbye Jung Hoseok," Kol calls back, leaving him injured and alone, making you wish more than ever that you could pull back. "And do not worry, I'll take very good care of her for you."

#bts #yandere #jung hoseok #j hope bts #yandere hoseok #yandere hobi #yandere bts #yandere bangtan #bts scenarios #bts fan fiction #bts requests #bts reactions #vampire! jhope #vampire! bts #bangtan reaction #bangtan fanfic

[thefanficmonster]

The Five Scares (and one revenge)

Corpse Husband x Reader (Gender Neutral)

Warnings: Swearing 

Genre: FLUFF, Humor, RPF (Real Person Fic)

Summary: Having a tendency to scare people, Corpse has gotten used to his friends being jumpy whenever he appears from the void into a Discord call with them. However, the one who has it the roughest with the spooks has to be his partner Y/N. Basically: The five times Corpse scared Y/N and the one time they scared him

Requested by Anon. Hi darling! Thank you so much for your lovely request it was a real joy to write and I had a ton of fun doing so! Hope you have equally as wonderful of a time if you happen to come across it and give it a read despite the long wait you’ve had to endure which I apologize for. Love, Vy ❤

I

Having had to go home for the night to keep an eye on their roommate’s dog, Y/N and Corpse agreed to have a video call before they fell asleep. They didn’t want to appear like that typical clingy and cheesy couple but after spending almost a whole week curled up in Corpse’s apartment, the two would feel each other’s absence to a very saddening degree to the point where they’d even forget the other isn’t around and would call out to them. 

Letting the call ring, Y/N’s hand comes up to smooth out their hair. However, the touch reveals to them that their hair needs a bit more than a simple tap or a pat to be tamed so while they wait for Corpse to answer the call, they quickly head to their bathroom. Flicking the light on, their reflection greets them with the underwhelming news of the actual state of their hair at the moment: an absolute mess. They proceed to do their best with the single hair-tie they have handy. A bobby pin or two would be neat but they have no time to go and grab one right now, seeing as how they can’t recall if they even brought them back from Corpse’s apartment. If they didn’t, they would have to search their roommate’s room for some which would take an even longer amount of time.

Eventually, they manage to tame it in something closely resembling a presentable ponytail and exit the bathroom feeling more exhausted than before. With a loud sigh, they crash onto their bed, face-first into the sea of pillows, groaning at the slight sting of their muscles relaxing at last.

“Y/N?“ The decently loud mention of their name by a deep, familiar yet sudden and unexpected voice startles them to the point of squealing and jumping an entire inch away from where they were positioned.

They look around their room in a frenzy, wondering where on Earth that voice came from and how it could be here with them right now.

“Y/N, you there?”, before they could locate it, it emerges once again, helping Y/N get an ide of where it’s coming from - somewhere in the messed up bed sheets.

“Corpse?“ They finally find their voice, “Y-yeah I’m here. Question is: how are you...“ and then it all clicks, causing them to twist their face in an expression of utter disappointment and bury it in the palms of their hands, groaning.

“You forgot about the video chat, didn’t you?“ Corpse asks, amusement not even attempted to be hidden in his voice.

“Yup.“

II

It’s been one hell of a day. Y/N’s college lectures exhausted them to a max and their six hour job following their classes did nothing to help them AT ALL. Quite the opposite actually. Makes sense why they look, move and talk the way they’re doing right now: like a ghost, zombie and an elder combined in one. To add to their misfortunes for the day, they were met with the mocking ‘OUT OF ORDER’ sign taped to the doors of the elevator, laughing in their face with the information that their hellish experience for the day is far from over.

Just the thought of having to climb to the fifth floor made their stomach turn in the most unpleasant way possible, but the though of how long that would take made matters even worse. Arriving at their designated apartment, they have every right to be pissed, cussing their heart out. 

However, then comes a new problem: the inability to pinpoint the correct key. They proceed to curse themselves, the keys, the door handle and the door itself before punching the poor wood that did no wrong and just stands here, serving its purpose of keeping unwanted people out of the apartment it’s guarding.

Following their anger outburst and front-door-abuse, they proceed to try finding the correct key once again, this time slightly more calmly as to not accidentally miss it in their frantic rifling.

Right as they’re about to try the third key, however, the door opens. Well, it’s opened by someone on the other side, that someone being none other than their boyfriend Corpse who’s currently staring at them wide-eyed, one eyebrow raised, the word ‘confused’ basically written across his face.

While he’s processing the sight in front of him, Y/N lets out a little scream, jumping back and away from the door, a hand placed over their chest as their wide eyes scan their boyfriend who now seems equally terrified as a result of their reaction.

“Corpse?!“ They manage to gasp, barely hearing their own voice over the loud thumping of their heart and the rush of blood in their ears, “What the hell are you doing here?!“

The confusion on Corpse’s face deepens, reaching whole new levels as his eyes gaze deeper into theirs, searching for the meaning behind their bizarre question. “You mean...at my own apartment? What am I doing, at home?“

For a few seconds, the two just stare blankly at one another, processing everything that’s just happened. Suddenly, it all just kinda caves for Y/N and they burst out laughing, doubling over, their arms clutching at their stomach as they do so. Their laughter is contagious, so Corpse can’t help but let out a few chuckles himself.

“Alright, you’ve been driven to insanity, I can tell.“ He mumbles at his reckless partner, coming up behind them and wraps his arms around them, lifting them up and carrying their laughing ass inside.

III

Finally deciding to sit down and get this damn project started, Y/N already feels like they’ve had enough of it, burnout already creeping in and threatening to ruin their work and trip them up every step of the way. It wouldn’t have been so bad had the subject not been one they absolutely despise and wish they could get out of studying but alas they’re stuck with it.

They equip their headphones as soon as they plant their butt on the desk chair in their tiny room in their tiny roommate-shared apartment, putting their Spotify playlist on shuffle as they open a blank Power Point document. They work better with music blasting in their ears since the silence tends to be too loud and distracting when they’re trying to focus. So, that way they can also sing their heart out in peace and not get disturbed by the sound of their own off-key singing. Win-win, basically.

Singing ‘Never Forget You’ by Zara Larsson and MNEK, they get a little carried away, ditching the project to enter a full-blown music video they can imagine down to the detail in their mind.

However, there’s a surprise awaiting them.

As soon as MNEK’s part of the song begins, another voice apart from his echoes through their headphones, singing along to the song. Freaking the fuck out, they let out a loud scream, smacking the headset off them, sending the object falling and landing on their laptop keyboard with a crash that only serves to further startle their roommate’s dog which comes to check if they are being attacked or something only to be disappointed by the lack of action.

When pushing the headphones off, they did so with a force strong enough to snap the cable out of the laptop entirely so now the room is filled with the sound of that same foreign voice laughing his ass off.

A voice that belongs to no other than Corpse Husband himself.

“You gotta learn to disconnect from Discord calls, Y/N.“ The fucker says, still cackling wholeheartedly at his partner’s misery.

Pissed off or not, Y/N would have to admit he’s got a point. But they’d also rather never speak again than admit it so...

“Fuck you!“ is what they say instead, seconds before disconnecting.

IV

Making breakfast is not something either Corpse or Y/N are used to, mostly cause they both either wake up late or skip the meal entirely. Regardless, having been given a day off from work and having no classes since it’s Saturday, Y/N saw no better way to start their day off than to prepare a nice breakfast for them and their boyfriend to enjoy. Problem is: they aren’t the most skilled in the kitchen. Sure they can scramble an egg or make mac and cheese, but in order to do it correctly they are not allowed to have distractions of any kind. Not even music, that’s how you know it’s serious.

Seeing as how Corpse has never seen them cook, he’s obviously unaware of theirs. The dummy straight up waltzes into the kitchen, unintentionally remaining unspotted and unheard by Y/N because he’s barefoot and because they have their back turned to him.

“Whatya cooking over there babe?“

Y/N’s focus bubble, being as thin as it is and considering they initially thought Corpse was still asleep, they have every right to let out the yelp they just did, dropping the egg they were gonna crack over the pan in said pan in its entirety - yes, shell and all.

A moment of silence commences: regretful on Corpse’s end and frustrated on theirs. Neither of them dares to say anything to avoid triggering the other. Well, that’s the case until Y/N decides enough’s enough and they turn to look at him, a wide, obviously fake smile plastered onto their face.

“Scrambled eggs, following a secret recipe, property of the L/N family.“

Seems like your pre-breakfast snack is an extra large dose of sarcasm, huh?

V

“So, how was your day? You sound pretty chipper so I take it wasn’t a nightmare like a few days ago.“ Corpse comments over the phone, listening to shuffling and shifting as Y/N moves around the apartment, getting ready to head out.

“It was great actually. Got some important results back and, not to brag or anything, but they were higher than I expected.“ They reply, a genuine wide grin refusing to leave their face as they silently count the amount of money they’ve got in their wallet. “I’m gonna go buy a cake so we can celebrate it. It’s no small deal, trust me, especially not when I initially thought I’d fail both these exams to the point of being pitied.“

“Wait...-“ Corpse attempts, his voice suddenly sounding strained and urgent but that’s the very reason he cannot seem to find or get the right words out of his system. Not that Y/N gives him any time to figure it out.

“No Corpse, you cannot change my mind. Cake and beers, we’re celebrating toni- SHIT!“ They scream as they throw open the front door, bumping square into someone standing on the other side, almost dropping their phone.

Taken aback by embarrassment and fear, they leap back, their eyes searching for the ones of the person whose personal space they just invaded. Well, to be fair, he was the one invading their personal space by standing right outside the door to their - well, to Corpse’s apartment.

The fear and irritation die down almost instantly when Y/N recognizes the person standing opposite them.

“Mind telling me why we’re talking on the phone when you could’ve come in and we could’ve had a normal person conversation?!“ They snap, ironically enough - they’re still holding the phone to their ear.

So is Corpse whos is smiling guiltily, “That’s why I called, I forgot my keys, but I got...carried...sorry.”

Well, at least this serves as proof Y/N’s not the only forgetful one.

                                                            ~  ~  ~

Corpse has been stuck in his recording room for four hours now, never stopping his stream to take care of his basic human needs such as eating or going to the bathroom. This behavior of his has Y/N worried sick and unable to focus on the task at hand - an assignment they’ve been trying to finish for two hours now, sitting with their computer on their lap and looking hopelessly at the blank Word document waiting for them to fill it up while they are waiting for it to start writing itself.

Seeing as how neither are gonna happen, not until Y/N puts their mind at ease, they slowly put the laptop aside, standing up to carefully skip on over to Corpse’s recording room to check on him, stopping by the kitchen to grab him a snack and a bottle of water along the way.

The door to the darkened room is open a crack, as usual, suggesting they can enter without knocking - this also means he’ll probably not hear them even if they knock so the whole gesture would be pointless. Not that Y/N has a tendency to knock or anything... Waltzing in, they find that the only light in the room is the very faint and dark glow of the computer screen which is displaying a dark and dingy room from a first-person view of the protagonist of whatever game Corpse’s currently playing.

“Corpse?!“ They whisper-yell/hiss at him, trying their best to grasp his attention without startling him - they don’t need to be told that the game is of the horror genre and the last thing they need is for their boyfriend to flip backwards and fall out of his chair because they scared the shit out of him. “Hey?!“

Neither attempts prove futile so, despite their best instincts telling them differently, they walk over to him and tap him on the shoulder. The reaction, while within the realm of expectancy, is a lot more startled than they expected, accompanied by a scream on top of all. They’d never heard him scream in fear before, it’s quite amusing if they’re being honest.

They suppress a snicker as Corpse’s wide open eyes meet their squinting ones in the darkness, “Y/N...babe...what is it? Is everything ok?”

Y/N rolls their eyes, “No, everything isn’t ok. Your unhealthy habit of forgetting to take care of yourself, for example.” They put the snack and the bottle on the his desk, giving him their best disappointed-parent look before turning on their heel to strut their way out of the room. However, just as they are about to make their exit, they stop right at the doorframe, giving their stunned one final glance over their shoulder with a smug smirk playing across their face, “Oh and by the way, that’s what I like to call revenge.” Just like that, they leave, pushing the door back into its previous position.

And boy, is it some sweet, sweet revenge.

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[evanescentjasmine]

Writing Egypt and Egyptian Characters: Rusty Quill Gaming Edition

I’ve finally caught up with the Cairo arc of Rusty Quill Gaming, which I was anticipating and dreading both. Fiction set in my country usually reduces it to a caricature of itself, especially when it takes place in the Victorian era, but considering everything they’ve said in their metacasts I was hoping Rusty Quill Gaming was the exception.

It wasn’t. 

I’m aware the game world plays fast and loose with history and setting, but the problems in this case are more than just inaccuracies. However, because I want to help fic writers and artists be able to portray Hamid and his family well, this resource will be split into two parts. The first part will tackle details I’ve been asked about with regard to the setting; it may touch on things RQG went wrong, but I’m writing it primarily as a resource for artists and writers. The second part will be my criticism of RQG, and why I found the Cairo arc actively harmful. This includes discussions of Orientalism and some racist text.

I should also preface this by saying I’m not a historian. Everything I say in this resource is a combination of what I grew up with and what I remember from school, supplemented by Google and guesswork. I’ll be explaining my thought process throughout, which can help you see what’s actual history and what’s my extrapolation.

Part One: On Egypt

Historical Context:

Figuring out the history of Egypt in RQG terms is a bit complicated, so bear with me because this will take a while. 

In real-world history, Egypt was a Roman then Byzantine province from 30 BC to around the mid 600s AD, at which point the Arab conquest swept through and Egypt became Muslim. 

What this means is that when the Meritocrats took down Rome and took over the world, Egypt was still a Roman province. That gives us a several hundred year gap before the Arabs that may have maintained the same culture? Or morphed a little back to some pre-Ptolemaic Ancient Egyptian, given their Meritocrat, Apophis, is named after a great Pharaonic serpent?

Either way, given Hamid’s name and the fact they live in Cairo, the city built by the Arabs, we can assume the Arab conquest still happened somehow, despite having a Meritocrat in Egypt. Maybe a Meritocrat out there is Arab and settled in Egypt for a bit with or before Apophis? Maybe it took a couple-hundred years for the Meritocrats to get all the previous Roman areas under control? Maybe there was a whole war and the Arabs won and settled and eventually they got to a truce or got absorbed into Meritocratic lands?

Many Muslim dynasties ruled throughout the period from the mid 600s to the 1500s. Given the lack of Islam in this world, probably the Arabs were unified by some Pre-Islamic deity/deities and brought them over as well, because I refuse to just sweep everything under the broad Greek God rug. 

In the 1500s, another Muslim dynasty took over--this time, from outside of the country, which is why it’s considered separate from all the rest. At this point, Egypt became part of the Ottoman Empire until the 1800s, which is when the Mohammed Ali dynasty started to try and secede and rule independently. And there was a brief blip of the French occupation for two years around then as well.

And, of course, we can’t forget about British colonisation, which started in the late 1800s with a veiled protectorate.

Presumably, since France and Britain are also Meritocratic and it seems like Apophis is currently ruling, we can disregard everything from the Ottomans onward. This changes, or should change, a ton, because Ottoman rule informed a lot of things from fashion to slang to nobility and so on. 

What we’re left with is most likely a Cairo that is still Arab but with much more Pharaonic influence, as Apophis is in charge, as well as continuing Greek influence due to the Gods. I am not a Coptic Christian, so I cannot speak to how these changes in history and religions would affect the Coptic language and culture, but no doubt it would still be around.

There would also be a bigger, more long-standing connection to other Meritocratic countries. This explains why Hamid was British-educated and so many people speak such good English without a British occupation to create the power disparity that would make that necessary to rise in Egypt and such a mark of status. 

However, this presents several confusing and contradictory aspects of the world building:

Why doesn’t this go both ways? Why aren’t there people in England and France who know Arabic or are influenced by Egypt? All we get is that the Tahan family are big. That’s it. If these countries are equals, it sure doesn’t look like it.

If Apophis is pharaonic and Ancient Egyptian culture and knowledge are so ubiquitous...why would they hollow out a pyramid to put a bank inside? It’s a tomb. It’s made to bury dead kings in a way that follows possibly still-existing cultural and religious beliefs. It’s the equivalent of someone building a bank inside a mausoleum. It’s bizarre.

Relatedly, if Ancient Egyptian culture and knowledge are so ubiquitous, why is Carter mentioning the Rosetta Stone? Why would the knowledge necessary to translate hieroglyphics have been lost? 

I mention these questions so fic writers can keep them in mind while writing and, of course, it’s entirely possible to create a workaround. For example, maybe the Rosetta Stone is supposed to be translating something else, like an ancient hidden magic?

Describing Cairo:

I want to make one thing very clear: Cairo is not, despite Alex’s description, like Vegas. While we do certainly have hotels and casinos, to reduce the city to only that is very harmful for reasons I’ll go into at the end of this resource.

Cairo is a very old city with a mix of architectural styles and is very heavily Muslim in real life. In Arabic, its tagline is often “city of a thousand minarets,” so clearly RQG Cairo will be fairly different. Given Apophis’ influence, Ancient Egyptian styles might be more prevalent in Cairo, but very likely not in the form of pyramids unless those pyramids were for the dead. In real life, some buildings do incorporate Ancient Egyptian flavour, usually just in the form of lotus columns or hieroglyphs. These would only be found in public institutions, however,  or, frankly, tourist-bait. 

Residential buildings tend to be clustered very close together and, since it’s an old city, streets are crowded and winding as the city keeps building on itself and spilling out of its previous bounds. Estates do, of course, exist, but I’d suggest against using Bryn’s example of Alhambra as a setting for the Tahan home. Alhambra is a palace fortress in Spain and, although it’s Andalusian and therefore influenced by Muslim architecture, it’s very different than anything in Egypt. It’s as absurd as saying a posh British character lives in a house that’s basically Versailles and leaving it there. I’ve included images of some Egyptian residential estates below, all from the 1800s to early 1900s.

And here are some photos of Cairo in the 1800s:

As you can see, not quite Vegas.

A fic set in Cairo can certainly still have the Cairo strip with all the casinos, since that’s an aspect of canon, but a place like that would probably be geared more to tourists and foreigners than locals. So long you’re aware of this while writing, and that Cairo would exist beyond it, you should be fine. It might also be worth having characters explore the actual city.

Weather:

The stereotype is that Egypt is just hot and sand year-round. It isn’t. The further south you go, the hotter it will get, so that Upper Egypt (which is in the south, yeah), is hotter than Lower Egypt, which is where Cairo and Alexandria are. Alexandria, by virtue of being on the Mediterranean, has fairly cold (for us) and rainy winters and mild, humid summers. Cairo gets very occasional rain and has harsher summers but is also dryer.

And, of course, a thing to remember is that even in the depths of the desert, the morning might be quite warm but the night will be quite cold as well.

Sandstorm season (called khamaseen) takes place from April - May but in the middle of Cairo it’s more of an annoyance than anything else.

Language:

Since they speak Arabic, it’s important to note that spoken Egyptian Arabic is very different from written Classical Arabic. Egyptian is a mishmash of Arabic, Coptic, a bit of Greek, and a bit of French (and, in the real world, some Turkish too) all smashed together. Accents differ from city to city, and Cairene Arabic is best known for the fact we pronounce the letter jeem as geem (so all soft Gs are turned into hard Gs) and tend to replace the letter qaf with a glottal stop.

This means that a Cairene wouldn’t be called Jamal, they’d be Gamal. A Cairene would pronounce burqa as bur’a.

Since religion plays a big part in language, RQG Egyptian Arabic may be a bit different. For instance, the greeting most people associate with Arabic is “Assalam alaykum” but that’s very specifically Muslim or at least associated with Islam, and might not have been as wide-spread given...y’know, that Islam doesn’t exist. I’m not saying it’s incorrect to use, just explaining the context.

Alternatives could include “Sabah/masa’ el-kheir” which means “Good morning/evening,” and “Naharak/Naharik saeed” which is, “May you have a good day.”

Fashion:

Although this didn’t really feature in RQG, I’ve received a lot of questions about the period’s fashion and honestly it’s my favourite thing ever so I probably would have touched on it anyway. I’ll only go into broad strokes, as there are plenty of regional variations and, again, I’m no expert 

Women

Egyptian women covered their heads and sometimes their faces not out of religiosity but out of a cultural expectation of modesty. This may well have come about as a result of the Arab/Muslim cultural majority, as to my knowledge this wasn’t the case in the Greek and Roman periods, but women of all religions covered their heads so that would likely still be the case in RQG’s Arab Egypt.

This isn’t with the hijab we know today. It may have been a cloth or kerchief tied over their heads and then the melaya laf (which is larger cloth, almost a sheet) that they wrap around themselves and over their head, as follows: 

The black face-covering was called a burqa or bur’a (not the same as a Muslim burqa, which serves similar modesty functions but is a separate thing) or a yashmak and may have been opaque black, white, or netted, such as in this picture:

Underneath the melaya they would be wearing a long, loose, patterned dress:

Upper class Egyptian women tended to wear Western dresses with a white yashmak that covered their faces and heads. A yashmak is Turkish, however, and without Ottoman influence this style and name might not have caught on in Egypt.

Men

While the melaya laf and yashmak have disappeared from Egypt, the traditional men’s gallabeya and ammama, or turban, are still seen widely today. The gallabeya (or jellabiya, outside of Cairene Arabic) is a long, loose garment with wide sleeves and no collar. It’s in muted, neutral colours, usually lighter ones like white or beige in the summer and navy blue or grey in the winter. You’ll have seen examples of it in the pictures of Cairo above, and here’s another one: 

Middle to upper class men and civil servants, however, tended to wear English suits with a tarboosh, or fez. Since fezzes were also a result of Ottoman rule, RQG Egyptians might not wear them.

And yes, impressive moustaches were also very much the fashion.

Names:

The running joke is that Hamid’s name is unnecessarily long, but my name is longer, and I don’t think that’s particularly unusual. We don’t usually go around introducing ourselves with all of them, admittedly, and I’m not sure whether Hamid does this as a way to indicate he’s overly fancy or because Bryn doesn’t realise it, but four names is not long. My ID boasts five, and I know of at least one more.

Arabic naming conventions use patronymics for all children, regardless of gender. What this means is that my name and my brother’s name is identical except for our first. 

Mine is Jasmine + Dad’s name + his dad’s name + his dad’s name + his dad’s name

And my brother is also First name + Dad’s name + his dad’s name + his dad’s name + his dad’s name.

Egyptians do not typically have last names, but an important family may all choose to identify under a name and use that as their last, such as the Tahans. In my case, I use my fifth name as my last name and introduce myself in everyday life as Jasmine Fifth Name. Notably, my brother does not, and goes by First name + Dad’s name instead. This isn’t unusual. On paperwork, however, we still have the same name.

Additionally, Egyptian women do not take their husbands’ last names in marriage, nor do children take any of her names. 

I’m not sure why, according to the wiki, Hamid’s sisters seem to have taken their mother’s name. Following Arabic naming conventions, they would all be First Name Saleh Haroun al Tahan, and their father would be Saleh Haroun al Tahan. A possible workaround might be that halflings have their own naming conventions that mean daughters have matronymics and sons patronymics. 

A note to podficcers: please google name pronunciations beforehand because Alex and Bryn’s are actually often wrong. Ishak, for instance, is not pronounced Ee-shak. It’s Iss-haaq or Iss-haa’, because of quirks of the Egyptian accent I mentioned earlier.

Part Two: Criticism

I understand it can be difficult to portray a country different from yours with accuracy. I understand the RQG crew will not have had the perspective on Egypt and Cairo that I do by virtue of living here. I do also acknowledge that I’m sure none of this was actively malicious or on purpose.

But it doesn’t have to be on purpose to hurt, frankly, and given how often the RQG crew have talked about their responsibility with a game that’s intended for an audience, I expected better. Bryn has spoken about not wanting to fall into stereotypes for Hamid and, to be fair, by being a non-religious fancyboy Hamid does neatly avoid the religious zealot and the noble (or ignoble) savage routes. Unfortunately, he falls into another, which was hammered home by the portrayal of Cairo and the Tahans as a whole.

Our first glimpse of Cairo, after the sandstorm clears, describes it as “basically Vegas,” with hotels and garish casinos catering to the rich all along the “Cairo strip.” From then on, our only other images of Cairo are vast estates and a pyramid in the desert. 

The only named Egyptians we meet are the Tahan family, who are introduced through an absurdly lavish estate compared to the palace fortress of Alhambra, a gambling problem that apparently runs in the family, murder, and corruption, as the head of the family who has already covered up a crime for one son then turns himself in to protect the other.

Then, to top it all off, Hamid is apparently utterly incapable of understanding why letting his brother get away with murder is an issue until the paladins point it out.

Do you see the pattern, here?

I understand this was aiming to be a criticism of the rich and powerful, but the fact remains that the Tahans are the only representation of Egyptians we get. While this may not be harems and hand-chopping levels of Orientalism, the image presented is of Cairo as a den of excessive wealth and vice, and Egyptians as corrupt and immoral.

This isn’t new.

The Middle East and North Africa (as well as India and China and everywhere else considered “the Orient”) has often been tied to images of wealth and overt splendour, usually hand-in-hand with the Oriental despot and corruption. This view went beyond just fiction and influenced the policies with which we were ruled. 

Cromer, Consul-General of Egypt, wrote books called Modern Egypt. He had this to say about us:

“The mind of the Oriental, on the other hand, like his picturesque streets, is eminently wanting in symmetry. His reasoning is of the most slipshod description. . . . They are often incapable of drawing the most obvious conclusions from any simple premises of which they may admit the truth.”

In his opinion, our inability to follow logical reason led to us being inherently untruthful and, therefore, immoral. Similarly, British statesman Balfour was of the belief that:

 “Lord Cromer’s services during the past quarter of a century have raised Egypt from the lowest pitch of social and economic degradation until it now stands among Oriental nations, I believe, absolutely alone in its prosperity, financial and moral.”

Egypt was under British colonial rule from 1882 - 1952.

You can see, I hope, why a storyline focused on an Egyptian family’s corruption in an Egypt characterised almost entirely by its casinos and one lavish mansion was very uncomfortable. The fact Azu was one of the people trying to explain morality to Hamid keeps it from sliding into a clear East vs West dichotomy, but the fact remains this is a British show featuring British players and this is the story they chose to tell. 

The rest was just salt in the wound, really. 

I expect mispronounced names and pyramids and jokes about camels in most media, but rarely do the makers of said media then go on to pat themselves on the back for doing their “due diligence” on a metacast about sensitivity.

I see weird naming conventions and mispronounced names and “basically Vegas” and “crocodile steak” and “camel’s milk froyo” and I do not see due diligence.  

I see a setting that barely looked past Cleopatra and I do not see due diligence.

I see a storyline that shows only excess and immorality and corruption and I do not see due diligence.

I see a disregard for me and mine, and I do not appreciate it. 

Literature I’ve referred to in writing this criticism:

Orientalism (1978), by Edward W. Said

Orientalism in the Victorian Era (2017), a paper by Valerie Kennedy

Orientalism in American Cinema: Providing an Historical and Geographical Context for PostColonial Theory (2010), a thesis by Samuel Scurry 

Popular Culture, Orientalism, and Edward Said (2012), an article by Robert Irwin

#rusty quill gaming #rqg #hamid saleh haroun al tahan #resource #criticism #orientalism #representation #long post

[skellebonez]

I wish you would write a fic where Xiaojiao and Xiaotian try to convince Red Son to build a pillowfort with them for M A X I M U M S N U G G L I N E S S

I hope the wait for this was worth it, I was very happy to get such a nice prompt!

"You have to be joking," Red Son said with a groan as he looked upon the veritable mountain of pillows and blankets and a few scattered chairs. At some points in the pile he saw what appeared to be strings of lights and stuffed animals. "You really expect me to help you build a... what did you call it? Pillow fortress?"

"Pillow fort!" Xiaojiao corrected with a wide smile and a bounce in her step as she dropped even more pillows onto the pile. There were so many pillows. Who owned this many pillows? "Well, it's more a blanket fort with the chairs, but that's just for structural integrity. It's going to be way more pillow than anything else! And yes, we do."

"What is the point of a pillow fort?" Red asked in a tone of genuine confusion and frustration at his lack of understanding. "It's just... pillows! And blankets and chairs and-and stuff!" He waves his arms wildly in the general direction of the mountain of mentioned stuff that Xiaojiao had seemingly finally deemed enough. "What does it do?"

"Be comfy!" Was her answer, almost as perky as ever but with a soft undertone to it that matched her smile. Red could tell she really wanted him to do this with them. She only sounded like that when she was serious and concerned, and the fact that he acknowledged his recognition of this was testament to how much he had gotten to know the dragon before him. "It's just... comfy, Red. You build it and you sit in it and you enjoy the feeling of being in a pillow fort."

"That sounds-" He wanted to say stupid, but he stopped himself short. Xiaojiao seemed so excited to do this, and she and Xiaotian had been so insistent on including him in things they enjoyed. And he had not disliked most of them so far. If he was under threat of destruction he might have even admitted he found some of them... fun. So instead he sighed before continuing with "- ...like something you would think I'd enjoy."

Xiaojiao's smile softened even more at this for just a moment. Then there was a knock at the door and she smiled her usual wide and jubilant smile as she opened it to welcome the other member of their little trio.

"Sorry I'm late," Xiaotian apologized as he rushed in, bags and a cooler in his arms. "There was a lot of traffic and the store I usually go to didn't have that snack you asked me to grab, but I found it at another one so we're all good!" He paused, looking over at Red Son with a half smile. "We, uh... are all good, right? You're gonna..."

"I suppose if it will make you both satisfied in my progress on 'learning to chill out already'," Red Son said in a half mocking tone, earning a snorting giggle from Xiaojiao. "Then yes. I will help you build your Pillow Fortress."

"Pillow fort," Xiaotian and Xiaojiao corrected in unison.

"It is Pillow Foretress or Pillow Nothing."

~

It took a good minute for the duo to finally gather themselves back after that. Red Son's completely serious tone with his final declaration sent that both into a frenzy of giggles and full on laughter, and Red almost stormed off before Xiaotian insisted they were only laughing because the sentence itself with ludicrous and they weren’t laughing at him.

Red Son eventually conceded that, yes... that was quite the ludicrously bizarre thing to insist on. But the two did their model best to call their creation a Pillow Foretress (with more bit down giggles every time it was stated). And it was... enjoyable enough.

There wasn't much to it. They set chairs up in a very large circle. Placed blankets under and over them. Surrounded them in the absolutely mind boggling amount of pillows, making sure to make three little sections for each of them to sit in. There were stuffed animals in places that were almost deliberately haphazard, and Red realized he recognized one as Xiaotian's little monkey from his own apartment.

Xiaojiao had taken the lights on strings, a mix of soft pink and regular lights, and draped them around the chairs before pulling in her laptop on a little lap desk and some comics and other items. Xiaotian in turn set out what he had brought, a cooler full of drinks and buns and sandwiches and sweet and savory snacks from presumably a convenience store.

"Alright, climb on in Red!" Xiaojiao said with a gesture.

Red Son stared for a moment, looking at the two of them in confusion. "This... doesn't look finished."

"It's not," Xiaotian admitted, mimicking Xiaojiao's gesture. "But trust us, this will be way cooler seeing it from the inside!"

Instead of arguing, Red sighed and did as asked, finding it silly that he was sitting on the floor surrounded by pillows and chairs and blankets and-

They finally took a large blanket that Red Son swore could cover an entire average sized room floor span and draped it over him and the rest of the fort, moving the chairs so the feet holding down most of the corners, pulling some up to let in fresh air and leaving the front loose entirely. The top dipped a bit in the middle and Red realized the blanket was far thicker than he had realized. Then the lights went out.

Red Son had relatively good night vision, but the room they were in deep inside the Long estate had no windows. That not that it mattered, it was likely past dark by now regardless. Even to him it was pitch black, only the light of Xiaojiao's phone screen providing any illumination. He almost wondered if this was it. If this was some kind of prank and the two had finally grown tired of him and they were going to leave him here or dump water over him through the blanket or... or something!

Until the little lights inside the fort came on.

And it felt completely different in the dim light. It was... soft. Warm. Welcoming even. Like he was in a world entirely made of just these blankets and pillows and nothing else was outside of it. He finally took the time to realize how plush and soft the blanket and pillows under him were. How the pink light made the seams in the top blanket give off a sheen that he realized were woven bits of metallic thread.

"Whoa..." was all he could say as Xiaojiao and Xiaotian lifted the loose flap of the front of the blanket to join him. He felt completely out of his element, unsure of how to even react now.

"Comfy, right?" Xiaojiao asked, and he only nodded in reply as Xiaotian held out two things to him. His little stuffed monkey and a bar of spicy chocolate. Flame decal and hot peppers branding the wrapper. He took them both without question as the two made themselves comfortable next to him. Each pressed into one side slightly despite the room in the pillow fort. "Tonight we're just going to stay in here in our Pillow Fortress and relax. Stay awake, sleep, it doesn't matter. Just. Be comfy with us, Red?"

The last part was clearly a question. Both of them looked at him for a moment, waiting for him to react. He didn't for a moment, looking down at the items in his hands before moving the stuffed monkey to the crook of his arm and unwrapping the chocolate bar and taking a bite.

It was sweet. Bitter. Rich. And had almost enough spicy heat for him.

"... sure."

Xiaojiao smiled wide again and opened up her laptop to find that one show he told her he liked. The one about how different things were manufactured. He thought that they would both find it boring when he told them about it, but it seemed now that their interest in watching it with him had been genuine. In time they all laid down on their stomachs or sides to watch, drinks and snacks being eaten up by the minute.

Xiaotian nodded off first, though he lasted longer than Red Son thought he would. He seemed to have actually enjoyed the episode about vinyl disks in particular. And Red Son supposed that after a long day of work and his short personal training session he was bound to be more tired than the other two of them.

Xiaojiao lasted much longer, but it didn't surprise him that even she had to nod off eventually She loved every episode that had anything remotely mechanical.

Soon it was just Red Son and his show and the soft glow of the lights as he laid between the duo that brought him into a trio of sorts. Both pressed into his sides in some way (though Xiaotian had kind of starfished his way into his back and an arm laid over Red). And he gently tossed the little stuffed monkey over to Xiaotian when he started to reach around for something, smiling when the other held tight to his prize.

Red Son didn't think he'd... ever felt this comfortable. At least not in many centuries. And it didn't take him long to follow his friends into slumber with a soft, almost imperceptible rumbling purr in his chest.

He hoped they got to do this again one day.

#monkie kid #lego monkie kid #gen fic #mk #qi xiaotian #red son #mei #long xiaojiao #traffic light trio #not intended as a ship fic #but if you wanna read it as chimerashipping you can! #prompt fill #though it's slightly different from the usual request #as it was for an ask meme

[shadowturtlesstuff]

invisible duckling

hi!! im alive, slowly working of fics still. i havent been writing as much as i want to but my brain is honsetly tired, but i have this cressworth (obvioulsy) that started as an invisible string based one, but becuase @fangirling-again has been pestering me about writing one about adopting ducks the ideas merged. somehow. the title is also her idea

(also im working my way through acosf so ill be online more frequently very soon!)

“We aren’t leaving the bed,my love.” I murmur as I feel Audrey Rose sit up and our cat move from his spot at the end of the bed to her lap. “We are staying like this forever.” I roll onto my side, careful not to brush against her leg. Her laugh caresses my skin as she lazily strokes our cat. I would happily stay in bed with the women I love and our son for the rest of my life, perhaps we can both get some more sleep that way.

We’d gone to bed earlier than planned due to the amount of things we needed to get done today but our son decided he needed our attention and who was I to deny his wants. Sir Issac had sat on my chest as I layed and stroked him long into the night whilst talking to my beloved. Audrey Rose had rolled her eyes at me when I had told her he can stay in the middle of us so we can hug him all night long. I was content stroking him until my eyes had grown tired and I could barely stay awake, but he had just meowed until I continued stroking him. It had led Audrey Rose to face me and tell me that is exactly how I act when I don't get enough attention.

“As wonderful as that sounds, we need to leave at some point,” she tells me and I whine about my discomfort. The bed was warm, safe and didn’t involve dealing with people I wished not to deal with. Again her laugh fills the room and I open my eyes to find her face half concentrated on me and the other on our demanding son. I may have taught him too well.

“Remind me what we’re doing today so I can come up with valid reasons as to why we shouldn’t.”  sir issac moves from audrey’s lap to sit right in front of my face, brushing his head against my own. I nuzzle against before I sit up and pull him into my lap. I fear the day when we get our second cat and sir isaac gets jealous of the attention we give it and not him.

“We are not getting another cat thomas,” she tells me and gives me the look that tells me she saw my thoughts on my face. We shall give sir isaac a sibling but I'll concede this argument for now. So I scowl at her and then rest my head on her shoulder. She sighs as she steals my hand and entwines our fingers. “We have to meet Dacinia at the restaurant near cornelia street. She has news for us, then my aunt wants to meet with me for an hour or so then uncle wants us in his office the rest of the day. Our case, it seems, has new leads that he is dealing with alone today but will fill us in and make plans for tomorrow.”

It has been months since we saw my sister and I've been excited since we got the letter she will be in town. We are visiting my favourite restaurant, the archer. We used to go as kids with our mother before she died. I have been meaning to take Audrey Rose but our lives are filled that we barely have time to do anything together like that. As soon as we are able, I'm bringing her to Romania to have a long overdue holiday. “Have you ever been in the archer, my love?” I ask just to keep her by my side a little while longer. Our grip tightens slightly and I know she knows my intentions behind the question. She always figures out how my mind works even when I do not understand it. Just as I do for her.

“I have, many times. My mother would take us all and we’d have dinner there once a month.” I trace shapes on the back of her hand, it shocks me to think we frequented the same place, for nearly the same reason for so long without knowing. There must be more times our lives have crossed without either of us knowing.

“It is a bizarre and wondrous thought that you were a part of my life, in ways i didn’t know, and now you are the most treasured thing. It is like we were pulling on a string, leading us to each other.” We are both silent, contemplating where else we may have crossed paths when she snorts loudly.

“It is absurd how put together that thought was when you have spent the entire morning whining at me,” her hand rests on my face as we smile widely at each other, “yet it is nice to consider that all our actions, all the mistakes and choices have led us to each other. Like an invisible string of sorts, that tied us to each other.”

“I'd go through all the hell again if it led me to you.” I tell her as she leans in and kisses me. I pull her atop of me now that our cat has lept of the bed, most likely to get us to give him food. We kiss, holding onto this moment before life crashes down on us. She pulls back, her smile blooming on her face and her face flush. It is a sight I wish I could witness forever.

“It is crazier to think our actions now are leading us to another cat.” I give her my most charming grin as she rolls her eyes but smiles at the thought of us having another cat. Slowly I am convincing her we should adopt another cat.

“It is crazy,” she begins, rolling off me despite me trying to hold her to me, “that a grown adult whines like a child every morning about leaving his bed.” Audrey Rose moves towards our desk to get her cane and my eyes are transfixed on the sight of her. Her hair is in a state, messy due to her not being a still sleeper, but she looks adorable. Her face still wears the smile that makes my heart flutter and her dazzling green eyes are bright as she faces me again with her eyebrows raised to challenge me into a retort.

“It is utterly crazy, that a man would want to spend all day in bed with the women he loves.” Finally I sit up as she walks back towards me, her face filled with emotions I cannot read through. She kisses me deeply and then rests her head on mine. Her hand rests on my cheek, her hands warm.

“I too, would go through all that hell, I would search for that string forever if it led to you, my love.” she whispers against my skin and I swear my heart either reaches out to hug her itself or explodes. I marvel at the women in front of me, of all the pieces of information about her I have discovered and all I am yet to discover and smile. “I want to stay in bed too, but we are adults Thomas, people relying on us. Soon, though, we will stay in bed all day.”

We stay like that, stealing kisses for a few minutes before we tear ourselves away from each other. The string we have between us loosens but as we go about our morning routine we always find our way back to each other.

~~~

“You little beast.” I hear Audrey rose hiss as she tries to carry a tray of food into the dining hall for us. I laugh and get up to help her, taking sir Issac in my hand so she has a clear path.

“This is why, my love, we are not getting another little pest.” she glares at the cat who meows back, seemingly aware of how much he has annoyed her. I sat him down on the chair beside mine and sat, helping Audrey Rose set the food.

“But if we were to get another cat, our son, not a pest or beast, will be occupied.” I try to convince her as best as I can. “Or we could get a dog, or perhaps even a duck-”

Audrey rose starts laughing, “A,” she tries to speak but cannot get enough air to do so. “A duck?” She breathes out finally and I roll my eyes. It was not my best suggestion, but if i can find any way to get another cat I shall.

“What is wrong with ducks?” as muster as much confidence in my voice as i can and that makes her laugh more. The laugh that fills the room with how genuine and adorable it is and I can't help my own laugh escaping. It's a tad absurd even for me.

She reaches out for my hand, trying to master her features into a serious look. She fails miserably but I take her hand in mine and rub circles on the back of her hand. “Thomas. Know that I love you. And care about you a lot. But have you hit your head today because honestly a du-”

“There was nothing wrong with my suggestion? What has a duck ever done to you?” I interject, both of us trying not to laugh.

“Nothing, because ducks are not pets and we aren't getting one either.” I glare at her as sir Issac climbs onto my lap. I tear my gaze away and pick him up so we are face to face. He scratches at my shoulder and tries to rub his head against my hand. I glance back to find Audrey Rose's face still smiling at my ridiculous actions. The smile that would make me do anything ridiculous just to see again, the smile I try and seek every day, more intoxicating than any drink.

“Son,” I say in a voice parents usually give their toddlers, “how would you like a duck as your brother and sister?” he meows at me so I take that as a yes. Audrey rose is shaking her head as she begins to eat her food, seeming to try to end this conversation. “That settles it, tomorrow I shall inquire about adopting a duck.” i had no idea how i was going to do it, or how i would later convince her to get another cat, as that was my main goal, but now i felt as though i had to get a duck. She rolls her eyes at me as I set sir Isaac down on my lap.

“Do not inquire about a duck Thomas.”

“Why? You said you didn't want a cat, and you heard our son, very lonely, so it seems to be the only plausible solution.”

“Thomas, do not inquire about a duck. Ducks are not pets. How would we even care for a duck? Why are we even considering getting ducks as a pet?”

“Consider this my love,” I try and be as normal as possible, try not to smile as i see her do the same, “we could buy it a little bucket to swim in or another bath with a little ladder,”

She shakes her head at me, our food long forgotten. It had been a tiring day for us, with a lot of walking, and when we'd gotten home she collapsed onto the sofa in our bedroom. So this conversation as silly as it is, is somehow needed for us both. “Why would the duck need a ladder?”

“To climb into the bath. It will be cute! The duck has little floppy feet. Oh! And we get make a tiny hut for our son here and the duck to cuddle in and we can have it next to our bed-”

“So at night we can hear both animals and never get any sleep? Thomas this is-” she once again shakes her head at me. “Madness. Utterly crazy. Are you sure you haven’t hit your head. I can call uncle over to double check.” We sit in silence, staring at each other for a second until we both lose it and start laughing.

“Would it not be adorable to have sir Isaac on your lap, with ducks on your shoulder and head?”

“Ducks? A second ago it was one singular duck, now you want multiple?”

“The duck has to have a friend.”

“The cat is to be its friend. If you get more ducks than sir Issac still is lonely as you like to claim he is.” as if in answer sir Isaac appears at her side, jumping onto her lap. She scowls at him but stokes his back. “Pest. you need to stop listening to your father, he is a bad influence.”  our eyes meet and she smiles at me as I begin eating my own food finally. I can see the exhaustion in her eyes even as she smiles at our cat.

“Imagine love, we have our cat, a duck and a child. All under this roof. I did promise a lifetime full of surprises, with all of those in the equation we’d never have a dull moment.” her eyes soften as the mention of a child. We both wanted one, had discussed it, but as of right now it wasn’t the time. Yet I can picture a tiny Cressworth child, my charm and her wit, playing with sir Issac and our second cat. Even a duck.

“That sounds wonderful. Tiring, but perfect for us.” I stand from my chair and walk around to her side of the table. Her hand finds mine instantly as I lean in for a kiss. She deepens it, her body twisting slightly and her other hand on my chest. I may never get used to the thrill of kissing her, of feeling her love for me. I nestle my hand in her hair, pulling out the pins keeping it up. We pull apart as her hair falls down past her shoulder, her emerald eyes dazzling at me. “I love you,” she whispers, her breath coming out in pants. Sir Issac nudged her and she pulled her eyes away from me as he kept nudging her, demanding her attention be on him. I laugh as she scratches behind his eyes.

“This is perfect too.” I tell her as I offer my hand to lead her up to bed. I will get her settled then return with cake, both of us needed a treat. I could feel my own exhaustion settling in as she took my hand and we made our way upstairs, sir Issac following us and jumping atop our bed and taking over my spot. Wadsworth glances at me, a knowing look on her face. One telling me: ‘you still want another one?’ to which I give her my own smirk telling her yes and kiss her before she can start to tell me no again. I kiss her again one more time before I leave to get us cake.

@fangirling-again @goatahoan @kittycat2187 @city-of-fae @the-hoofflepooff @purplecreatorhorsewagon @padfoot-sirius-black-blog  @boredbookwormgirl @goddess-of-writing-wars @lovecakeandmore @yikesitsmaddie  

#cressworth #sjtr #stalking jack the ripper #hpd #hunting prince dracula #efh #escaping from houdini #ctd #capturing the devil #thomas cresswell #audrey rose

[sethrine-writes]

Anxiously Waiting, Wanting

Fandom:  JoJo’s Bizarre Adventure (JJBA)

Pairing:  Jotaro Kujo x Reader

Words:  3113

Warnings:  Angst, Happy-hopeful ending, Feelings are hard

Summary:  You startled abruptly at the large mass of warmth that encased your knee, eyes darting down to the point of contact. There, a hand grasped gently at the joint and pressed firmly, carefully, downward, stopping the unconscious, rhythmic jumping of your leg. Following the arm upward led you to the sharp gaze of Jotaro, who had seated himself to your immediate left and seemed just as guarded as ever.

For a brief second, your breath caught at the intensity of his stare.

A/N:  I have dipped my toes into the JoJo universe! First time writing for it, and I gotta say, it was a bit daunting, but thanks to my lovely friends who cheered me on through it all! I hope to be writing more for these characters in the future, so we shall see how it all goes!

A super, special thanks and shout-out to my lovely friend, @kyarymell​, who was so sweet and drew a lovely work of art to go along with the fic! If you haven’t checked out her stuff, please go have a gander at it! She does art and writing for multiple fandoms, so you have a nice selection to peruse!

Enjoy, you guys!

------

Focusing on anything but the impending battles ahead during the downtime of your journey was next to impossible.

With every mile closer to Egypt your group made it, the more dangerous it was quickly becoming with equally more challenging Stands attempting to thwart your advancement along the way. Danger was literally lurking in the shadows and could be present at any moment, meaning everyone had to remain highly vigilant at all times.

Even then, you could tell that Polnareff, sitting across from you at the table of some restaurant Joseph had led everyone to, seemed a little stiffer than normal, more aware of his surroundings. The others were just a bit better at hiding their awareness, but the relative quiet of the group within the noisy atmosphere surrounding you was very telling.

Despite the tense feeling in the air, you were more than grateful to have these men there beside you that knew when to take things seriously, knew how and when to watch one another's backs without a second thought.

All the better, seeing as how you just couldn't keep yourself from worrying about what dangers were ahead of you and could barely focus on what was happening several feet in front of you. They kept you anxious, the thoughts running through your head, all the what-if scenarios and imaginings of how the fight in Egypt would play out.

Would you make it in time to stop this Dio guy? Would you all even be enough to defeat him? How many more people would have to get hurt or die just because the sick, petty bastard with a century-old grudge against an entire family lineage-

You startled abruptly at the large mass of warmth that encased your knee, eyes darting down to the point of contact. There, a hand grasped gently at the joint and pressed firmly, carefully, downward, stopping the unconscious, rhythmic jumping of your leg. Following the arm upward led you to the sharp gaze of Jotaro, who had seated himself to your immediate left and seemed just as guarded as ever.

For a brief second, your breath caught at the intensity of his stare.

"Your leg keeps moving," he groused after a pause, "it's annoying."

A little glimmer of annoyance at his own words found its way inside you, a tiny zing of petulance that shot through your body and disappeared just as quickly. It was a defensive reaction, one that couldn't be helped when you felt as if you were being belittled or berated in some way, though you knew that you were not.

It was just the way Jotaro was, or at least how he presented himself, when he spoke.

He was all surface-level bastard with a calm and collected facade, for the most part, haughty words meant to burn only hiding just how well and truly pissed he was at the time. When facing enemies or those who sought to provoke him, that perceived anger of his could reach bone-deep and became a dangerous boon to his fists as well as his Stand.

Through all of that, however, you had come to realize that he really had a lot of care, even if he seemed less than capable. He had a heart bigger than most people you knew, one that was carefully guarded and only shined through to those who truly got the chance to understand him, to know him on a more personal level.

You may not have been there completely, just yet, but you were getting the gist of how he worked, most times.

It was because of this knowledge that you were able to keep your cool, knowing full well that even though his words sounded harsh on the surface, there was no real sting to them.

You were almost tempted to think that he was worried about you.

"Sorry, I'll try to stop," you answered, leaning up a little straighter in your chair with a small smile, "but no promises."

His eyes, so perceptibly observant, remained locked onto yours for only a moment longer before he looked away.

"Gimme a break," he muttered under his breath, the familiar sigh nearly making you chuckle.

A waiter came by not a moment later, and everyone began listing off their preferred meals for the night, conversation finally beginning to flow after the tension in the air had been broken.

Jotaro's hand remained on your knee for a long while, an almost absent reminder to keep still, a secret reminder of his care. It grounded you in a way you couldn't explain. You didn't dare pull away; you didn't want him to pull away, either.

---

The entirety of the group was lucky enough to have their hotel rooms on the same floor, for once, if a bit dispersed. With things becoming more dangerous, everyone was paired up to ensure no one was left alone and vulnerable. Jotaro just so happened to be your lucky partner for the night, which meant a quiet room and the possibility of better sleep.

Unfortunately for you, your mind was still restless with looming thoughts, unsettling scenarios playing out wildly in your head without end. The night was still early, barely past ten, but you were too tense to fully calm down, and with each passing minute, it felt as if the anxiety welling within was full to bursting, and you were dangerously on the verge of giving yourself a full-blown mental breakdown.

You had cherished the idea of a quiet room, beforehand. At that moment, however, the silence was cloying, suffocating.

Subconsciously, your fingers began to drum against the small desk table you were sat at, eyes glossed over as you stared out the window. You were only vaguely aware of the sound against the wooden surface, mutely aware in a way that became your sole focus, and for several long minutes, the gentle noise kept you from completely drowning in your hectic thoughts.

Something touched the back of your hand, a single point of contact that immediately broke you out of your self-induced trance. Your fingers stopped their drumming, made to lay flat by the gentle yet insistent pressure being applied from a lone finger that was not your own. Following the line of a darkly-clad arm  had you nearly straining to meet the eyes of your room partner.

Jotaro loomed over you, his stare as sharp as ever as he glowered from above. You stared back, watching as his eyes narrowed the longer you kept the contact. After a few seconds, you shied away from the intimidating lock of his eyes and down at your now flat hand against the table, his finger still pressing against your skin.

"Oh, right! Annoying, got it," you said, nearly stammering in your embarrassment.

You pulled away from his touch with ease, placing your hands in your lap and clasping them together to lessen the urge of putting them back on the table. Jotaro moved to cross his arms over his chest, hovering a moment longer before stepping back until he was leaning against the wall.

Though you had looked away, you could still feel his gaze on you as if he were still touching you, the intensity nearly making you shiver. Why you had his utmost focus was beyond you at that moment, but his silence was starting to get to you.

Already, you could feel the need to move something, your leg giving a couple half-hearted bounces before you willed it back into submission. You began picking at your fingernails next, trying your best to keep the restless energy within contained. It wasn't enough, not nearly enough, and it was driving you crazy to be in a space that was so damn quiet.

"I'm going for a walk," you mumbled out abruptly, standing just as quickly and having to physically slow yourself from making a mad dash to the door. You passed by Jotaro, keeping your eyes locked ahead of you with every step closer to the outside, fingers just touching the handle of the doorknob…

Fast as lightning, you turned on your heel, nearly yelling out your surprise at the large hand coming out and all but slamming against the door beside your head. Your Stand's arm popped out reflexively, elongated nails dripping with poison primed and at the ready for an attack, pressing warningly against the muscular purple arm caging you in.

In front of you stood Jotaro, arms still crossed against his chest as he used his own Stand to keep you in place, Star Platinum's upper body hovering just to the side of him. His eyes still held their narrowed stance, though he seemed angrier than he had mere moments ago.

Had you actually done something to piss him off?

No, no, that wasn't quite right. He wasn't angry, despite the scowl that presented itself on his face. If anything, he looked more on the side of extremely frustrated, though that had a penchant for quickly turning into anger if the situation turned for the worse.

"Jesus, Jotaro, don't do that," you gasped out, feeling as if your heart would leap out of your chest at any moment. "I could have poisoned you without a second thought!"

"Why did you hesitate?"

You startled when Jotaro stepped closer, bewilderment turning into confusion at his question.

"Why did I-? Because it was you! I wouldn't just actively attack you like that, even on a bad day."

If anything, your answer seemed to deepen the frown marring his features.

"What is wrong with you?"

"I could ask you the same thing," he countered.

"What do you even mean by that? I haven't done anything wrong!"

"You're being careless. It's starting to piss me off."

"Excuse me?" you questioned, beginning to feel angry, yourself.

"Don't make me repeat myself."

The absolute nerve!

"If you've got a problem with me, then say it instead of trying to intimidate me into doing something brash. You nearly bashed my head in, and you want to talk to me about being careless-!"

"Shut up! You're not listening!"

His sudden exclamation had you pausing, despite wanting to reflexively retaliate in a similarly heated fashion. You took that moment to look him over, doing your best to read between the lines of the serious facade Jotaro tended to keep.

There was something there, hidden in the present frustration and the steel of his gaze. Jotaro's immediate response when all hot and bothered was to fight, of course, but there were no enemies to be seen, nothing that should have set him off into using Star Platinum in the way he had. He wasn't angry, not at you, at least, and yet he felt it necessary to provoke you - no, not provoke; he was trying to gain your attention through the use of his Stand.

His expression bore annoyance, yet his eyes...

"Talk to me," he finally spoke, words surprisingly gentle for how worked up he had gotten, and it absolutely floored you just how quickly his demeanor had changed.

Your eyes widened before looking away, once more feeling embarrassed, though for an entirely different reason. You finally called back your Stand, taking a slow breath in before letting it out in a huff.

"I'm-"

You hesitated, looking back up at Jotaro's serious visage, realizing the longer you looked at him that he was, in his own rough way, trying to help. With another sigh, you visibly sank against the door

"I'm tired, Jotaro. God, I'm just so tired and afraid of what will happen in the next ten days, if we even have that much time left to find this bastard. I can't stop thinking about it, and it's driving me crazy!"

Your hands came up momentarily to rub against your face brusquely, dropping back to your sides to fiddle with the hemming if your shirt.

"I'm constantly worrying about every little thing, all the possibilities of good and bad outcomes in our future. To be honest, a small part of me wants nothing more than to give up, or give in, just end it and save myself from all this mess and heartache."

"Why are you still here, then?"

His voice was still gentle, if a bit rough. He wasn't trying to be accusing, just asking a simple question. Even so, you worried he thought of you as weak, now, perhaps unable to be counted on when the time would inevitably call for it. You couldn’t blame him for the thought.

"Because I believe in you," you answered with conviction. "Even if I'm scared, even if I'm still uncertain just how this is all gonna play out, I still believe we'll find a way through all this. You will find a way, and that's what keeps me here. You, Jotaro."

‘I stay because of you.’

The following silence was different from the suffocating one you had previously been trying to escape. It gave you time to reflect on your thoughts in a different light, having finally gotten out the summarized brunt of all your worries.

You hadn't quite meant to express so much, especially with the sentiment of affection still being so new to form between you both. There was no time to explore the feeling, no time to ponder how different things could have been, would have been, had you not stumbled your way, quite literally at the time, into Kujo, Jotaro's life.

And yet, you couldn't bring yourself to despise a single moment of the trip so far, of the newfound relationships you had made and of the growing strength within yourself. Everyone would agree, you were sure of it, even with the perils that had come and gone and the dangers still present on the horizon.

Despite all your warring thoughts, you couldn't deny that you were the happiest you had ever been, spending the last nearly month and a half with the eccentric group of Stand users you had come to call your friends.

And it was all thanks to Jotaro.

"You're right."

You blinked as the silence was broken, unable to comprehend the almost-there smile suddenly making its appearance on Jotaro's face.

From your peripheral, you could see Star Platinum's hand pulling away from the door, gasping as gentle fingers just barely grazed the side of your cheek as they passed by before disappearing altogether. It was barely any pressure at all, and you were almost sure it had been an accidental thing...almost.

The room felt much warmer, all of a sudden.

"We will find a way," he continued, arms uncrossing as his hands found purchase within his coat pockets, stance becoming that of assured confidence. "Dio won't know what fucking hit him."

He took a small step back, giving you a little more room to breathe, but still keeping close as if he had more to say.

"For what it's worth to you, you have my trust."

'I believe in you, too.'

Your breath hitched at his confession, your mind finally being able to piece together the things he wasn't saying. As you had always suspected, there was care in his actions, always present if one were to read between the lines.

He was a difficult one, but you felt that you were starting to really get it.

With a sudden boost from your Stand, you became a little taller, even closer to Jotaro's face than you had ever been. His gaze seemed to widen by a fraction at your unexpected closeness, something you wouldn't have noticed had you not met him eye-to-eye, but it was a reaction you hadn't anticipated. Even more surprising was how incredibly still he had become in your immediate presence.

If he truly wanted to, he could push you away with ease by either his own hand or Star's, say a harsh word or two to get you to back off. Instead, he allowed you into his space, a choice solely based on his trust in you, his care for you, and it was nearly as overwhelming a feeling as your warring anxiousness.

You smiled, soft and sweet, before leaning in steadily closer, closer, closer still, emboldened by Jotaro's words and his acceptance.

It was a quick thing, the small kiss you planted at the corner of his mouth, a gentle press of your lips transparently branding his skin with a promise you hoped beyond all hope you could keep. It was the only reassurance you could give at that moment, and you were almost certain it was all he would truly need to understand.

Pulling away, you were lowered back to the floor by your Stand, of which dispersed immediately after. Your smile was still soft, small as it was, as you gazed into the vibrant blue of Jotaro's intense stare.

"When we win this whole thing," you murmured with intent, "when that bastard is finally good and gone, I'm gonna need that back, got it?"

'If we make it out of this alive, I'm going to kiss you properly.'

The silence that followed was only a few seconds, but reality felt almost slowed, tense in a way that would make or break the moment.

Jotaro sighed as he adjusted the brim of his hat, hiding his eyes behind its dark shadow. Had you still been closer, you would almost certainly have seen the barest color of heat against his skin.

"Gimme a break," he muttered, but the promise in his actions held steadfast and concrete. The tension released, and the air between you both felt clearer than it had in weeks.

'Looking forward to it.'

"I'm still going for that walk, by the way," you mentioned while reaching for the door handle, hand pausing only a moment as the cold metal touched your palm, almost expecting for Star to make his appearance again. To your relief, all was still.

You followed through with the motion, stepping out into the hotel hallway without any further obstructions. When you made to turn and shut the door, however, Jotaro was right behind you, taking up the frame with his solid, semi-crouched form.

Truly, the Joestar men were absolute giants.

"You're coming too, then?" you questioned, knowing full well he would follow you, regardless if you protested.

"Not leaving you by yourself," he responded while shutting the door, taking the initiative and leading you towards the elevators.

"Gonna leave me in the dust, though, that's for sure," you playfully mused as you made to catch up with his long stride, smiling to yourself.

Jotaro offered only a hum of acknowledgement to your bantering, which, in itself, was his own smile shining through.

Maybe this time, the anxious feelings wouldn't linger quite as long as before.

#jojo's bizarre adventure #jjba #jojo part 3 #stardust crusaders #jotaro kujo x reader #jotaro kujo #reader #reader-insert #gn!reader

[panharmonium]

“now you can still make that happen.”

just a few thoughts prompted by this awesome post by @clotpolesonly, which i did not want to hijack - it is fantastic on its own and does not need my thoughts attached to it.  and you should definitely go read it before you proceed here, because a) it’s great, and b) this particular post of mine is not going to make a lot of sense without it. 

(a preview, for those who haven’t already clicked through: the linked post above is a terrific analysis of why the second part of will’s line “you’re a good man, merlin.  a great man.  and one day you’re going to be servant to a great king” feels a little bizarre in comparison to the rest of his dialogue, and how it seems contradictory to what we’ve learned about will’s character previously.)

i LOVED hearing somebody pull this moment out and question it, because this is a moment that i have also thought about a LOT, and while i personally have ended up in a place where i do understand why will might say something like this in this particular context, i ALSO fully agree that this is the most muddled line he has, characterization-wise, because i don’t think the average viewer is going to sit around thinking about how to fit this slightly unusual moment into will’s established characterization, or even recognize that’s it’s unusual at all; they’re just going to CHANGE will’s established characterization to align with this line.  and what i mean by that is that i'm pretty sure this line is solely responsible for every fic i’ve ever seen where will’s reaction to arthur is portrayed as either a mistake, an overreaction, or anything other than a legitimate, valid concern about merlin’s safety/well-being, and for that reason alone i’d be happy to have it modified.

but despite this (because i HAVE sat around thinking about how to fit this moment into will’s established characterization), i actually do look at this line in a way that makes it feel natural to me in context, and now that somebody else has brought it up, i figured i’d just write my own thoughts down, in case anybody else has ever spent any time thinking about this.  (an unlikely possibility, I realize, given that will only shows up in one episode, but i have given up pretending that i am not super over-invested in this character, so - here i am, once again offering you yet another very long post about a very niche thing.)

so.

first of all, the absolute most important takeaway from the whole “you’re going to be servant to a great king” moment is exactly what OP says (and it’s also exactly the same thing that this particular line is in danger of obscuring, for folks who aren’t thinking carefully about it) - just because will realizes that arthur wasn’t going to let the villagers die without risking his own neck doesn’t mean that will is now riding the arthur pendragon bandwagon.  will doesn’t save arthur because he’s suddenly become arthur’s biggest fan; he saves arthur because it’s the right thing to do.  will doesn’t have time to sit around and think about it and debate with himself like ‘hm i don’t like this guy but merlin thinks he’s ok and the man did risk himself for our village so maybe i should still help him out.’  he just jumps.  instinctively, automatically.  he sees somebody in danger and his unthinking reflex is to get in the way.  it’s just who he is.  he would have done that for anybody who was standing in front of him.

will has not suddenly turned into an arthur stan just because arthur did one okay thing.  will still witnesses arthur aggressively interrogating merlin about sorcery, and, like OP says, will still lies.  he still doesn’t trust arthur, not with merlin’s life.  he still doesn’t think camelot is a good place for merlin.  and he still doesn’t think merlin’s “friendship” with arthur is real or safe or healthy or anything equal to what merlin deserves.

so the question then becomes - why on earth does will say what he says???

you’re a good man, merlin.  a great man.  and one day you’re going to be servant to a great king.  now you can still make that happen.

(i’ll be honest, before i get into this - i think OP is right.  i don’t think the writers really thought about it this hard.  i think it probably was, in fact, just meant to be our customary reaffirmation that arthur is cool and merlin is on the right path, even though that fact looks kind of...questionable by any logical assessment of the situation.)

HOWEVER, i am stubborn, and i’m personally committed to making as much of the show’s canon work for me as possible, so back when i was doing a bunch of characterization work on will last year, i thought about this line a lot.  because the linked post above is RIGHT; it doesn’t fit, at first glance, and it would be easy to draw the wrong conclusion from it, if you weren’t paying attention.

and ultimately, after i thought about it for a long time, i ended up in a place where i felt like i understood where this line was coming from, and i no longer felt that it was necessarily out of character (though again, let’s be real - you shouldn’t have to do that much thinking about something to figure out how it could fit with someone’s characterization.  the writers could have been a bit clearer.)

but anyway, that said - the following is how i conceive of that bit, if it helps anybody feel better about that scene.  this isn’t the only way to think about it, by any means, or the “correct” way (as i said earlier, i do think it’s completely reasonable to say “this wasn’t a super well-thought out line” and discard it).  this is just the interpretation that feels most natural to me.

i think, ultimately, what helps me understand this line is acknowledging that will, in this scene, is giving merlin a gift.  by lying for merlin, will protects the Big Secret from being discovered, but when he does so, he’s giving merlin back more than just his physical safety.  he’s giving merlin the freedom to pursue all of the things that will himself was so adamantly against for the entirety of this episode, all of the things that will repeatedly told merlin it wasn’t good for him to want.  his lie saves merlin’s life, yes, but it also ensures that merlin can return to camelot, continue to work as arthur’s servant, go back to the very life that will himself thinks is stunningly unworthy for merlin, but which merlin, for some inexplicable, unfathomable reason, feels is bafflingly important.

will gives merlin a gift, in this scene, despite his own misgivings.  and when he says “one day you’re going to be servant to a great king,” that is a gift of another kind: trust.  merlin is the one who first described arthur with those particular words, up in the hedgerow, when he and will were arguing with each other.  “one day arthur will be a great king, but he needs my help.”  and what will is doing here, by using those words, isn’t so much him declaring his own support for arthur as a ruler; it’s him saying to merlin, “i heard you.  i listened to you.  i don’t know why you’re so convinced of this, and i know we were having a row, but i was still listening to you.  i trust you.”  

will says this to merlin, in his last few moments, even though will himself isn’t sure about arthur, or camelot, or any of it.  it doesn’t matter that will isn’t sure.  will doesn’t want to dole out more warnings right now.  he doesn’t want the last thing merlin hears from him to be another admonishment, another critique, another “you don’t know what you’re doing and this is going to blow up in your face.”  will wants the last thing merlin hears from him to be i want you to have what you want, even if i don’t understand why you want it.  i'm giving you what you asked for, just because you asked for it.  i’m choosing to trust you. 

will has already said everything he needs to say about arthur.  he’s already told merlin what he thinks of this whole camelot situation.  but sometimes, when you love somebody, you have to take your hands off the wheel.  will tells merlin “one day you’re going to be servant to a great king” (repeating something merlin specifically said to him, something merlin said in the middle of a heated argument, something merlin prefaced with “i don’t expect you to understand”), because will is telling him “i heard you when you told me this, even if you didn’t think i was listening.”  he’s telling merlin “i have faith in you, even if i don’t have faith in him.”  it’s him relinquishing control over the situation. 

will has absolutely no reason to trust arthur.  he doesn’t trust arthur, truly.  he says what he says for merlin.  it’s something he offers to merlin, as a gift.  it’s part of their reconciliation.  it’s why merlin immediately follows will’s now you can still make that happen with “thanks to you.”  merlin acknowledges everything will is giving him, in that moment, brushing past the mention of arthur like it’s not even there, immediately re-centering will in the discussion.  “thanks to you.”  you did this for me.  you’re giving this to me.  

“one day you’re going to be servant to a great king.”  just this line, itself, is a gift.  for will to say that to merlin - it’s a gift.  it’s an acknowledgment that merlin’s convictions are worthy, even if will doesn’t understand them.  it’s will apologizing for saying that merlin doesn’t know what’s best for his own life, it’s will handing merlin the reins, it’s will saying i don’t trust him on his own merits; i trust you.  i’m trusting what you told me.  i trust you to know what you need, so i’m going to give you everything you want, even if i don’t know why you want it.

and i do think that this is absolutely, 100% influenced by the timing.  in a different situation, will wouldn’t have backed down like that.  he would have continued to give merlin grief, to ask hard questions, to criticize, to say “why are you being like this; you can do better than this; why are you making bad choices; why are you settling for so much less than you deserve?”

but will is dying, and i don’t think he wants to leave merlin on that note.  merlin has already lived his entire life almost completely unsupported by the people around him, mistrusted by his neighbors, hunted by the ruling powers of multiple nations, prevented from pursuing any answers that might have helped him accept himself, always mired down in a bog of self-doubt.  will can’t bring himself to leave merlin that same way.  he doesn’t want to leave merlin with more ‘i don’t trust you and i don’t support you and i don’t think you should do the things you think you need to do,’ even if it’s offered in the spirit of “i just want the best for you.”  he can’t bring himself to do that.  so instead he makes a concession, for merlin’s sake, and chooses to offer merlin complete, radical trust, in spite of his own doubts.

it’s...this is a trust fall.  this is will saying i trust you to drive this car, even though it looks like you’re about to drive us off a cliff.  and merlin, for his part, knows full well that will probably would have pushed harder, under different circumstances, but he also recognizes will’s concession for the gift that it is.  he understands that will’s personal opinions may not have changed, but that will is saying ‘i believe in you, despite everything.’  he understands that will is stepping off a bridge with nothing but merlin’s word to assure him that the drop is survivable.

i do still think it’s totally reasonable to feel like this is an unusual thing for will to say, for sure.  but for me, personally, when i look at it this way, i see it as fully in-character, because the core thing about will, for me, is that he consistently does things that go against his own interests in order to help merlin.  coming back to fight a battle he knows can’t be won, saving arthur’s life, pretending to be a sorcerer - his decisions consistently make his own life worse and merlin’s life better.  the things he does are always done for merlin’s sake, at his own expense.  

and sometimes - like in this scene - i think the things he says are said for merlin’s sake, too.  

merlin and will both know each other too well for merlin to really think that will is jumping on the arthur train.  merlin knows exactly what will is really trying to say.  he knows it’s a parting gift.  he understands that it’s just will’s way of saying, “i’m leaving and i want you to know i love you this much, to jump when you jump, even though i personally think the drop is deadly.  that’s how much i trust you.  that’s how much i believe in you.”

merlin understands, and will feels understood.  they leave arthur and camelot behind, after that exchange.  they’ve both said everything they need to say about it.  they’ve put that argument to bed, in the best way they can manage, with the time they have available to them.  will has made his feelings about arthur and camelot clear, and now he’s also made it clear that he trusts merlin to know what’s right.  whether or not that proves to be true, later, isn’t relevant - only merlin can make decisions about where his life is going, after all, and will acknowledges that fact, here, at the end, as a gift to his only friend.  he might have taken a different tack if he weren’t dying, yeah.  but since he is, he decides that merlin deserves to walk away from this moment with at least the small comfort of knowing that will, when the chips were down, chose to trust merlin implicitly.

that’s the only reason why arthur’s future as “a great king” even comes up in that conversation.  the rest of that scene is just about merlin and will, and how much they care for each other.  

and for two people who never had anybody else, that’s just as it should be.

#the once and future slowburn #long post #meta #bbc merlin gen #no kings no masters #every time i think i've exhausted every possible topic of discussion related to this episode i am proven.....wrong #XD #i legit loved the post that prompted this one; i had spent so much time thinking about that line last year #and this is the first time i've ever seen anyone bring it up #FANTASTIC EYE @CLOTPOLESONLY #absolutely spot on #like even if i ultimately have found a way to feel like this line makes sense i still agree with everything OP says #i can make it work for myself but she's right; that is definitely an eyebrow-raising moment

[rixxy8173571m3w1p3]

Mamihlapinatapai Or The Season Of Longing

A/n: Here is another fic. Since it's been raining like crazy and I have spent way too much time indoors because of the weather, I decided to write this. The poem featured in this fic is called Lluvia by Jorge Luis Borges. I finally figured out how to put things under the cut so that my followers don't have to scroll through a large post 😅 It's another piece set before Doofus Rick and the reader were dating. Feel free to check out the other fics in my Masterpost.

In this fic the reader isn't the only one longing

___________

Imagine that instead of a blue sky, there was an off white, almost grey sky, and what should've been wispy white clouds were blankets of rumbling thunderstorms without a drop of rain; that was how you thought you might've felt. There was a name to this feeling, but you weren't sure what to call it; as though you were missing something you couldn't place; not sadness or grief, but whatever came in between. No, nothing bad had happened, and there hadn't been any disagreements between you and Rick, but something did occur which fed this alien feeling. It seemed that only a few days ago you were alright, but then you invited him over and he had a chance to look over those books you had mentioned. That day he had returned home from work and came over right after; offering his best of smiles and a piece of candy from his labcoat pocket as soon as he crossed the threshold of your doorway; it was nothing out of the ordinary, but it was charming all the same.

With swiftness, you had led him to your hallway closet so that you could bring down the box of books sitting on the upper shelf; that was where you kept a great portion of your father's old books. Father had been a fan of languages and botany, but ventured into the bizarre mystery from time to time; being a master of neither, you had hidden them away for a later date; mostly because the memories were more disheartening then they space they took up. With all your might, you stood on the tips of your toes in a vain attempt to reach, but your fingers barely brushed the edge of it; you should’ve just used the step ladder. It was Rick's small huff of effort which alerted you to his nearness as he unexpectedly stretched up and grabbed said box when you had a little trouble. Goodnaturedly, he carried it towards the kitchen while you took a moment to calm your girlish heart.

Coaxed away from your thoughts by the dusty cardboard and the delighted guest, you nodded lightly to give him the go-ahead to help himself. His gentle presence made him a joy to study; not in the way he examined things in the world or of the world, but in the way one does when fascinated by a butterfly or a fresh bloom hidden in an otherwise barren bush; he was a miracle. With care he pulled out one book after another, glancing through their pages and making piles for which one's he'd like to borrow. In a way he seemed to belong to this house; as though what wasn't found within pages of novels could be sought, and felt beyond reason; flowing calmly and relished in these favorable moments. Although it wasn't much, and that borrowing books could be of little consequence except to the reader itself, you hated to see him go.

Now thinking of it days later, you found yourself wondering about its significance as well as a plethora of other things as you walked to the store and back. You hadn't needed anything in particular, but you felt slightly better being outdoors; the fresh air allowed you to believe you could think better. The sounds of light traffic and grass being cut somewhere along in the neighborhood felt timeless as you walked around the corner, almost home. The wind blew, rustling your clothes and you narrowly lost the receipt that hung out of your pocket, but that didn’t bother you.

Rain clouds were rolling in from the west and you hoped it wouldn't rain before you reached home. And the closer you got, the more you could see the familiar house of your lovable neighbor. A smile couldn't help but stretch across your face at the thought and you hoped he was home so that you could ask if he'd had a chance to look those books over but that alien feeling bloomed again; the sinking, drowning, heavy feeling. How you wanted to be with him despite what reason thought was logical. The dance of your heart would've loved nothing more than to place a dozen or more kisses upon his smile lines while he stammered into the next week. Oh, your foolish heart had taken on a personification of its own these days; speaking and thinking of itself and it's wants like a second brain; draining you whenever it appeared.

Yet, before you knew it you had reached home and dropped off what you had bought before stepping out again. From your front yard, you could see that he was in the garage and you questioned whether you should go over and attempt to alleviate this feeling; it’d vanish whenever you were with him. You must’ve stood there thinking for a while as to what ought to be done for the pitter-patter of rain broke this trance-like state and you ran back towards your front porch. How silly you have become as of late with this strange crush of yours. Weren’t you past these sort of schoolgirl feelings? Perhaps, but it was more than that.

You sunk into your wicker bench and listened to the sound of the rain as it hit the roof and walkway. The earthy scent of the lawn and the splash of puddles as cars drove by was a welcomed distraction. A nap didn’t seem like such a bad idea. Yet, gentle footsteps and the sound of a closed umbrella woke another sort of feeling within you; that of hope.

“Golly, it - it sure is raining cats and dogs t-today.” he commented.

The words were out of your mouth as soon as you were aware of him; of this creature who walked out of a daydream. “I didn’t think I’d get to see you.”

“Huh? Are you alright? Did s-something happen?”

“I'm fine,” you answered; all at once conscious of him and your surroundings. “it’s just...I thought about coming over to ask if you checked out any of the books but it started to rain.”

“Th-that's part of the reason I'm here,” he confessed. “I-I had noticed you went out for a-a walk and wanted to make sure you had come home safely.”

“As you can see, I made it back in one piece. Although, I did get my hair wet. Though, that's the least of my problems.”

“Do you mind if I-I-I take a seat?”

Patting the space beside you, you nodded. “Not at all.”

He set his umbrella to the side before he seated himself and turned towards you. His warmth radiated from him and being as tall as he was, the bench might’ve been too low to the ground since his legs seemed to stick out too much, but he made no complaint. From his inner labcoat pocket, he pulled out a small book. “I thought y-y-you might enjoy this.”

“A book?”

Handing it to you, he commented. “I thought y-you might enjoy this collection of poems. I um - I bookmarked my favorites but I'd like t-t-to know what your thoughts about them would be.”

You knew this whimsical creature was well-read in many respects, but you hadn’t given much thought to the possibility of including works of a more abstract nature. “Sure, that sounds lovely. Though, I hope you don't mind me asking. Do you read works like this often? It's not because I find it strange. Honestly, I find it fascinating and wonderful that you would even consider it, but I ask because I thought….well, I thought you only read serious works related to your work.”

Scratching the back of his neck, he explained. “I read whenever I-I-I find the time and it uh - it usually doesn’t matter what the subject may be. In the pursuit of knowledge, one reads everything. For example, th-the terms and conditions for some computer programs or limited warranties at times list amusing reasons why y-you might be able to get a replacement for a damaged product. It keeps things interesting.”

“I see. It certainly makes sense.”

With a smile, he sighed with contentment as he looked towards the street. “Boy, th-this weather reminds me of a certain poem. It's called um - it's called Lluvia. That's the Spanish word for rain.”

“That's right,” you remembered; his last name should’ve been a reminder enough. “you can speak Spanish. I forget sometimes since you only talk to me in English. So, tell me, how does this poem go?”

“Please forgive me since my Spanish is a-a little rusty.”

Taking a deep breath, he recited calmly. “Bruscamente l-la tarde se ha aclarado, porque y-ya cae la lluvia minuciosa. Cae o cayó. La lluvia es una c-cosa qué sin duda sucede en el pasado. Quien la oye caer ha recobrado, el t-tiempo en que la suerte venturosa. Le r-r-reveló una flor llamada rosa y el curioso color del c-colorado. Esta lluvia que ciega los cristales, alegrará en p-p-perdidos arrabales. Las negras uvas de una parra en cierto. Patio que ya no existe. La mojada, t-tarde me trae la voz, la voz deseada, de mi padre que vuelve y que no ha muerto.”

You stared at this man, amazed by his fluency and ability to fascinate you with the simplest things. Yet again, a reason to be marveled by him. “Whoa, I don't know what you said, but it sounded beautiful when you said it.”

Turning towards you, his smile seemed brighter than usual albeit a bit sheepish. "It's n-nothing special."

"But it is, especially since you can think and speak in more than one language. I can't do that."

"I-I can teach you if you'd like."

"No, that's okay. You're busy enough as it is, but I appreciate the thought. You really are so incredibly smart."

"And you…eres maravillosa."

"What?”

His smile faltered a bit, and he thought to himself for a bit on what he was about to say before his smile returned; albeit more gently. “Eres amable y-y dulce. No soy digno de una amiga como tu.”

“Rick,” you started; confused as to why there seemed to be some sort of admission that you weren’t able to understand. “all the poetic talk is lovely, but I don't think it's fair if you reply in a way I can't understand."

"Si pudieras entenderme," he sighed, wringing his hands in the nervous way he did. "me pregunto qué creerías si te expresara cuánto me preocupo por ti."

Raising from the bench, he said to himself. "Si puedo llegar a la luna, algun dia podria...¿Q-que estoy haciendo?"

"Rick?"

“I’m o-okay. I uh - I zoned out there for a second. I’m sorry.”

“Really? Are you sure?”

“Yeah. I’ll be fine.”

He studied you for a moment longer; a world of words unsaid in his melancholic glances. Was something secretly hurting him like it was hurting you? You could only wonder as thoughts were drowned out by the sound of the rain.

———————————-

It was warm and comfortable with him sitting beside you. His presence always provided a sense of calm that was softer and sweeter than that of the sedatives that eased your anxiety. Why you could fall asleep right here if it weren’t for that fact that you’d be mortified if you allowed it to happen.

“Are you a-a big fan of the rain?” he wondered.

This question had come after a half-hour of companionable silence. “Hmm, it’s not the rain so much as the memories that accompany it.”

“Do y-you want to talk about it?”

“Only if you don’t mind hearing it.”

“I-I don’t mind.” He reassured you.

“Well,” you started. “my dad enjoyed rainy days since he said the plants almost seemed to smile when rainwater hit their leaves.”

“Th-that’s a nice thought.“

“Yeah, I thought so too. When it rains like this, and I’m watching it fall,” you softened; feeling lighter because you had someone to share your thoughts with. “it feels like I’m looking through a curtain. It’s not completely see-through, but the shapes I can see appear softer and more mysterious like how you must’ve appeared when you showed up. Too bad I wasn’t paying attention.”

Oh, you did not just say that out loud. “Or something like that.” You added.

If he had noticed you had tripped over your words then he gave no indication of it. “Gosh, I-I never thought of it that way b-before. I usually see it as part of the pr-precipitation cycle and it smells nice, doesn't it?”

“It does. I wouldn’t mind bottling up this scent, but then it might lose what makes it special.”

Yet, if you could bottle up his scent, it would’ve been nice to keep nearby just in case you wanted a little piece of him.

“That um - that reminds me,” he brightened. “I had baked some mandarin scones before walking over tonight, and I-I-I thought you’d like t-t-t-t-to try them but I didn’t want to risk them getting wet. I-I thought we could share some over tea tomorrow if that’s alright with you.”

Tea time with Rick was like what others did over rounds of drinks; it was to unwind and talk about the day; minus the drunkenness and the unforeseen embarrassment. “Don’t you have to work tomorrow?”

“Gee, I um - I was supposed to, but there was a shift change. Actually, I have a shift t-t-tonight in a-about an hour, but I had wanted to make sure you were alright before I left.”

“Why?”

“Because I-I thought you were going t-to walk over.”

So he had thought the same thing. “Oh, well like I said earlier I had planned to or thought to, but the weather put a damper on things.”

“Yeah.”

“Though, isn’t it funny that we both had the same thought?”

He smiled at that. “It's because gr-great minds think alike.”

What right did he have to be this adorable you thought. All you could do was smile up at him and fight the urge to run your fingers through what appeared to be soft hair; as odd as you had initially thought his haircut was when you met him, you couldn’t imagine him any other way. Still, drawn to his bright, kind eyes, you wondered if you were being attracted by some invisible force to test the limits of this friendship, and yet you knew well enough that now wasn’t the time. Following a slow blink of his, you mentioned without looking away. “Now that we have gotten to see each other, it's probably time to let you go. I wouldn’t want you to be late for work.”

“Y-you’re right.” he straightened; jumping up on his feet with much more agility then seemed possible for someone so mature. “Until next time.”

There he was leaving again when you didn’t want him to. Still, you had no right or claim to him. At least, not yet. “See you tomorrow.”

Grabbing his umbrella, he motioned to open it but paused, and slowly, but surely turned back; his smile almost boyish. “Gosh, I-I will see you tomorrow, right?”

Clutching the book of poems to your breast, you giggled. “Whichever way it may be, we will. I promise.”

Fin

#doofus rick x reader #doofus rick #rick sanchez x female reader #j19z7 #j19ζ7 #j-19-zeta-7 #rick and morty #rnm fanfiction #rnm #Rick x reader #my fanfiction #my works #rick sanchez x reader #Rick Sanchez

[faelune-home]

(fanfic) “how the guiding light wavers”

(A/N: I’ve had this in the works for a few weeks now. I first brought it up in this long post I wrote to establish character stuff, but this is the work that will finally make me feel a bit more secure in writing for my miqo’te girl. I’m aware it all sounds convoluted and bizarre to fixate on a name like this, but it was something that bothered me, and I’m the one actually doing the writing for my own character, so I do hope that this fic finally makes writing easier.

But alongside the name stuff, it’s also a larger look at where Fhara is emotionally throughout Shadowbringers I suppose. A little bit of where she’s come from and where she’s been so far and where she stands before entering Endwalker, so there’s at least a little bit more to this fic than just name shenanigans. XD

Name shenanigans and heroic title woes and legacy musings. All wrapped up in a complicated bow. Aha. I’ll probably do more Scion interaction focused additions on Fhara’s woes and worries later, especially since I had some in the original fic only to remove them as it was getting way too wordy, but this is the main meat of those feelings here and now.

Strong spoilers for the ending Stormblood patches and Shadowbringers, more so 5.0 and then just fleeting mentions of patch stuff. Set after 5.3.

Word count: 4760

Ao3 link)

When she set out from her home for Eorzea’s shores, she had a goal; to become a hero, and make her name known across the world. To be known as someone great and powerful, with monsters big and small bested at her hand, yet also someone kind and helpful, saving people and making their life a little bit easier. A lofty goal, but one she figured could be done, one small step at a time. After all, every adventurer started small.

Little did she know that her forays in Eorzea would grant her her desires, at a much faster rate than she anticipated; she joined the Scions, with their close ties to the city leaders and their own aims to protect the realm, and in gaining a reputation as a primal slayer, became known as a fabled Warrior of Light. A type of hero normally assigned to legend. It was everything she could have wanted and maybe even more than she could handle. It was a heavy title, but one she wore proudly, all while continuing as she had originally planned.

Yet as time passed, the weight grew heavier. There was still pride and joy in doing the right thing for the sake of others, protecting the innocent from those that would do them harm, but at some point, in the midst of the fighting, torn between Ascians and the Empire, despite doing the same thing she always did, her thoughts would wander to her original purpose in undertaking this grand adventure.

To become a figure of whom stories would be told, for those stories to return to her home and inspire the younger children, much like the old tales had inspired herself. To teach them to do good, to do better, to help others, to be brave, to be kind. An idealistic idea but one she held fast to. And by all accounts, fighting under the Warrior of Light title aided her even further in another aspect of her plans; to allow her to step back from the world once all is done and know peace when she hung up her bow and settled down.

When she set out from her home, she was ‘Fufu’; an old childhood nickname she’d long outgrown in her village, with the exception of her aunt, repurposed for her heroic exploits until the Warrior of Light title seemed to do the job better. Then in Eorzea, in the comfort of those she came to call a second family, she could be Fhara again. And it was nice, comforting even. To know that others knew her as more than just her heroic title, and that the Rising Stones could feel like a home so far away from home.

A home that was always filled with the sound of laughter or chatter, always someone socialising with a friend or partner, or busy working, the Rising Stones had all the energy and joy within its walls that she knew from her home, even with all the group had been through. To find that joy stripped out, the halls empty of people as her dearest friends collapsed into lifelessness and everyone else was left to fill in for their missing teammates…

For Fhara, it left her with no-one. But the Warrior of Light still had work to do.

The Warrior of Light had faced down conquerors, defeated dragons, set free thousands from the shackles of tyranny. But Fhara had never been alone in her feats, always with her companions at her side, or standing strong behind her, keeping the way clear for her, ready to back her up.

The Warrior of Light would go on to face Zenos that day in Ghimlyt Dark, the whispered tales from young inexperienced soldiers speaking how she almost pushed him back single handedly, with the famed Azure Dragoon jumping into the fray to assist her. In truth, Fhara stood alone on that battle field, facing a barely weakened, Ascian possessed corpse, the collapsed figures of her resistance comrades strewn behind her, she kept going until she herself blacked out under mysterious circumstances, only surviving by Estinien’s timely arrival.

Her recovery in Ishgard started her thinking, mixed in with the anxious waves of the mysterious caller’s words. The Warrior of Light would ever be revered for their acts, but as a single entity. Whereas Fhara, while capable on her own, worked best with a team, with her friends by her side. Working out a plan of attack together, or simply knowing they were there with her gave her strength. Yet standing on the field that day, the only thing giving her the strength to fight on was the desire to protect others, for if the Ascian controlling the fallen crown prince made it past her, Eorzea would no doubt suffer.

Then a stray thought...what gave her the strength to start doing all of this in the first place? What was her drive to begin with? It seemed so long ago…

‘Fufu’ had come all the many malms from a small village on the outskirts of Thavnair to become a hero, one that would have bard songs made about her for the sake of children’s tales. But the Warrior of Light had ultimately taken on that role. So what was the point of continuing to call herself ‘Fufu’ to the public? Was it just a habit by that point? A desire to hide herself behind an identity that both was and wasn’t her? After all, it was a nickname that had long been associated with her, and in the absence of any other ideas for an alias to call herself - oft teased as she was for her poor imagination for naming things - she had fallen to the easiest idea of her old childhood moniker.

Maybe it was time to move on from such childish notions? Her thoughts were neither bitter nor certain. The questions merely buzzed in her head as she left them unanswered.

She left the city with her golden hair cropped, a request asked of Jandelaine, met in passing before she left Ishgard behind her.

“It is a shame,” he’d said at the sight of her shorn twintail, the other loose from the hair tie, matted with blood and dirt, “But I can tidy it up and it’s like it never happened. A return to beauty and grace, just say the word.”

She could’ve kept it the same, and continued on as normal. But instead it was all gone. Because maybe a fresh start was what she needed?

~*~*~

The First was not a fresh start. At least not one Fhara was expecting. A land on the cusp of destruction, perpetually bathed in an unnatural eerie light, the people hunted by Sin Eaters, suffering either death or a torturous transformation in turn. She very quickly learned how terrifying, how desolate some corners of the land of Norvrandt could be, and she could well understand why, if people were living in such conditions.

Her first port of call in the strange new land was the oddly familiar gleaming tower, a recognisable pillar even against the hazy glowing sky. And within was the enigmatic Crystal Exarch, ready to greet her with open arms.

She had mixed feelings about the Exarch, on many points; having Called her friends and left their lifeless bodies back on the Source in an uncertain state, or even that Calling them was an accident in itself, since she herself was meant to be the target gave her no end of frustration toward the man. Even then with the knowledge that he hadn’t intended to summon the other Scions, the idea that he had wanted her to act alone in saving the First was one Fhara couldn’t help but balk at. 

Of course she was willing to help, she couldn’t stand seeing people suffer while she knew she could do something. But to think she would be able to handle the work singlehandedly was pure folly. In that way, perhaps it was a small relief then that she had the Scions to help her, unintentional was their presence on the First. Even with the uncertainty surrounding their summoning and the state of their separated selves, she at least had her friends and teammates with her.

However it was his first impression beyond his summoning mishaps that stuck with Fhara and kept her uneasy around the man; no sooner had she arrived at the gate, he had welcomed her past his wary gate guard, quick to introduce her and settle her into the Crystarium. A warm welcome for sure, and not one she was ungrateful for, however the mix of familiar and unfamiliar in the man’s demeanor made her cautious. 

That he knew her so well, so casually referred to her as ‘Fufu’ before she had even introduced herself, how comfortable he seemed while using it - hand waved away as him learning it from old records stored within the Tower, a name used in tandem with the Warrior of Light title, although it reignited her recent troubled thoughts on her public identity - while she knew nothing about him, that not even his own people could say much of him did nothing to ease her. Every factor together had her wanting to keep the Exarch at arms length. She would do as he asked - save the First, bring back the Light, prevent another Calamity from decimating the Source - and in return, he would return her friends’ home. That was all that was needed.

Of course, things would never be that simple.

In a land ravaged by Light for 100 years, a Warrior of Light was considered a heathen, a villain that had doomed them all. Instead, the people hoped and prayed for a Warrior of Darkness to be their hero. And so Fhara, with the starlit sky returning in the wake of her arrival, would become that hero.

Fhara didn’t want to say she hated it, however the dizzying speed with which the title and the stories spread was a shock to the system, moving even quicker than her reputation as the Warrior of Light had grown on the Source. She couldn’t blame the people for their enthusiasm, especially when the hero of legend’s arrival coincided with the return of the night after a century without.

She didn’t hate it. But she found herself seeking the comfort of her closest friends more often than she used to before. She knew they weren’t looking at a grand hero, but just Fhara, who stood up to answer the call. And they stood with her. As the days would pass on the First, rarely was she without a Scion by her side, only truly left alone in the comfort of her inn room, and even then, the wayward spirit of Ardbert was a presence she didn’t resent.

The days would pass, and the night returned across the land, and beyond the walls of the Crystarium, away from the crowds of people that would revere a hero, through pixie flower beds and dense forests ever shaded from the skies, and into desert ruins of a civilisation long lost-

“Welcome aboard, Ryne.”

Fhara had seen the young Oracle struggle under the weight of her legacy, the expectations of her duty to protect and act as a beacon of hope for the people of Norvrandt, while also living in Minfilia’s shadow by virtue of her name and powers. Fhara could empathise with the young girl, having long known the feeling of so many people relying on her and her own more recent doubts that she could live up to those hopes. She kept trying all the same, as she knew the Oracle would as well, for it wasn’t in Fhara’s nature to give up if she could do something.

But now, seeing the newly christened Ryne standing with a fresh air of confidence about her, her only nerves being about doing a good job for the sake of the team and helping relinquish Amh Araeng from the grip of the Light, Fhara was proud of the girl for her new lease on life.

Yet also a tiny bit jealous, that all it took was a name and a declaration to do better by herself for the girl to suddenly be brimming with courage, whereas Fhara fretted and frayed and languished under a gifted moniker, calling herself by her childhood name and then acting as though it were her only option, that she had no other choice...but was it always that simple? To just announce to the world you could be born anew yet still the same person?

Perhaps it wasn’t exactly the solution Fhara was looking for, but it was an idea towards a resolution for her woes. After all, she wasn’t trying to begin fresh like Ryne, Fhara just wanted to be Fhara, as she always had been. It was just trying to express that to the world at large.

It was only when the Light she had been capturing within herself finally overpowered her and left her weakened and stumbling, sitting at death’s door, did it finally seem to become clear to her. So rarely before had she gotten so close to death that she had never thought so closely about what she would leave behind, or who would remember her and how. The people of Norvrandt knew the Warrior of Darkness, Eorzea knew the Warrior of Light and the Scions knew Fhara. And if she died that day that would be the memory she would leave behind. 

Yet she realised, lying in her inn room, she didn’t want to just be remembered as a hero under a title, or by a name that most of her nearest and dearest scarcely used. She wanted to be remembered as Fhara, at least if it were possible.

She’d certainly made the attempt to introduce herself as such during their travels across the realm, but with how quickly people came to know her as the Warrior of Darkness, she feared that her attempts were being drowned out. However before their ascent of Mt Gulg, as the crowds gathered from across the land to assist them, she found that they knew her as Fhara, and they would talk to her, and they wished all the Scions the best of luck. And among a small few, the Warrior of Darkness was not a title solely attributed to her, but to all of her friends.

It was nice. A reassuring gesture that her efforts were noticed. Even as she stumbled her way to the deepest depths of the seas in pursuit of Emet-Selch - keenly aware that if she failed, she would be dooming the First and her fellow Scions along with her - she held onto that knowledge. After all her worries, it was an odd source of courage for her, bolstered by her desire to survive, and the understanding that she wasn’t alone in her duty.

Altogether her feelings gathered, and in the face of death and her desperate wish to live, and her wish to be known for more than her heroic tales, she made her decision. She’d never been afraid to make the first step before, not even into the unknown. She’d come all the way to Eorzea on a whim and a want, and faced almighty foes more powerful than herself with nothing more than the determination to protect those that could not fight back.

If she lived through this fight, she would cast aside her anxieties, and take that first step again.

~*~*~

Fhara wasn’t the type to call meetings, she was the type to attend someone else’s meeting. And yet the majority Scions were gathered in the Rising Stones, with the miqo’te standing at the head of the pack, nervously shuffling her feet. What few Scions that weren’t accounted for were assured to be updated afterward.

She ran her fingers through her hair, no doubt to calm some nerves, although the action drew the attentions of the group members that had only seen her sparingly during her otherworldly adventures; since last they had seen her, she’d left for the Crystal Tower with a short crop, still wearing her tattered and torn bard coat, an uneasy smile on her face as though more to reassure those around her than because she genuinely felt like her hopeful self. Yet each time she returned to report to Tataru with updates, she was a brighter figure, with a spring in her step as she relayed the progress on the First, and her hair would grow out slowly to the feathered bob she now wore. It wasn’t quite the cute twintails they’d known her for when they joined, but she looked all the more confident nowadays with it.

She finally started, with a loud voice, albeit one that cracked as though there was still some anxiety holding her back, “I have something I want to say. Something I’ve been thinking about for a long while now and that I want to be clear on moving forward.”

Any mumbling between parties silenced immediately. Fhara’s tail flicked at the now heavy hush, however some encouraging gestures from the figures at the front most row - some few nods and a thumbs up here and there - allowed her to continue, “Thank you for being here. Truthfully, some people here already know what I’m gonna talk about. But I’d rather make it clear to everyone now. This whole thing might sound rather silly to some people, that I’m worrying over nothing. Some of you might even say that if it means so much to me, then it’s not such a trivial thing. And I appreciate that, I do.”

She hesitated, ears suddenly flattening. “To cut out a long story, when I came to Eorzea, and when I joined the Scions and became known as the Warrior of Light, I told everyone here they could call me Fhara. It’s who I am after all. But outside where people would know the Warrior of Light better, then they should call me ‘Fufu’. That’s still technically me, it's an old name I was called as a child. And it’s the name I chose for travelling because...I suppose the easiest way to put it is that I wanted to separate my private life, if I ever chose to return home, from my adventure life. But lately with everything that happened and with a lot of the dangers getting so much bigger than even the Warrior of Light I just started to worry about who I really was and what I was doing.”

“Like how? You seem the same to me?” Aenor spoke up, ignoring the disapproving nudge from her frowning sister.

“I mean, I hope I do,” Fhara smiled, although it was more wistful looking than pleasant, “I never tried to pretend to be someone I’m not, no matter where I was or who I was with, or what name people called me. But I started thinking I was getting lost with myself, like people were seeing two different people with me.” Her tail flicked again. “I should say now, I don’t hate being the Warrior of Light. A lot of people try to project that I’m frustrated with it or that I could be doing better with a title like that, but none of that is true. I don’t hate it. But it’s hard. People have big hopes and expectations for me when they treat me like that, and I’ll always try to reach them, but it’s not always easy to do alone. So truly, I’m forever grateful to have you all with me at my side.”

Casting a glance over the Archons and the twins, Fhara continued, her voice somehow smaller, “But when the Callings happened, and then everyone else here was stretched to take over the work, and this place was left empty so much, I...well, as senseless as it might sound, I felt alone. But I still had a job to do, but doing it alone was hard. Because everyone else knew this brave warrior that could handle anything, and I didn’t feel like that at all.” The quiet admission brought about guilty whispering rippling through the group, until a sharp cough from F’lhaminn hushed them again.

“T’was never our intent to make you feel as though you had no-one to lean on,” the older woman said, “Especially during such a time when our own were falling out of commission. But then it was precisely such a time that we all struggled to balance the work that needed to be done, and to fill the gaps left behind. If that struggle left you without support, then that would be our failing, and for that we would owe you our sincerest apologies.” The mumblings rose once more, letting out a small chorus of “sorry”s and “‘pologies”. 

Fhara gave the woman a grateful nod then added, “I understand, I do. And I didn’t say that to call out anyone here, but I won’t deny that a lot of people across the realm talk about me in such grand ways because of the work and feats I’ve done, and it’s hard to feel like I’ve lived up to their stories. In that sense, being on the First kind of helped; it was a fresh start where I could try again to do the hero thing, but in a lot of ways, it wasn’t, because the same thing that happened here on the Source happened there. People needed a hero, someone to help them, and I just became the Warrior of Darkness to answer that need, and that’s what most people knew me as. But it still gave me a chance to try and start afresh with myself, and now I feel better about where I stand. And I want to bring that feeling and those certainties back here.”

She didn’t mention Azem. Though the suggestion that Fhara may be related in some way to that Ancient had brought her more hazy feelings, she had insisted that none of that mattered. The final insistence had brought her here now, to her certain decision. She was herself, and she didn’t have to worry about being anything more.

She let in a deep breath, steeling herself as she said, “The Warrior of Light is here to stay and she’s the one that will go down in history, and I can’t change that. Not everyone in the world will know the real me beyond the heroes tales, and I can accept that. But at least on some level, I can try to let them understand me. And that can start with a name. A name can be lost to time, so I get that people in the future will never know Fhara. But the people here and now can, and that���s all I want.”

With a final, certain nod,  she declared, “So from now on, I’m Fhara. Not just inside these walls, but outside them as well. It took a lot more words to say that than it probably should have, but I hope you all understand it now.” Uncertain of how to finish her speech, she took the skirt of her purple dress, already wrung tight by her nervous hands, and gave a bow. There wasn’t an immediate response. It took another glance at the twins next to her, giving her comforting looks to ease the tension in her shoulders, until another voice spoke out from behind the group.

“‘At was a lot of words to get the message out, but it looks here that it meant a lot to ye to make it sure as sure fer us lot,” the crowd parted, and Riol nodded, looking satisfied, “I think I’ll speak fer us all when I say message received loud and clear.” Fhara’s eyes started to water as she looked around to assurances and smiles, and possibly unnecessary cheers from what sounded like one of the Boulder brothers, but it was acceptance nonetheless.

“Thank you,” she sniffed, trying not to actually cry, rubbing at her face, “I mean it. This all probably sounds really ridiculous and I’m overthinking everything but-”

“There shall be none of that,” Y’shtola interrupted, “None of that self-doubt at least. We’re here for you no matter what decision you wish to make for yourself. You of all people deserve the support, and we are all the more glad to provide it.”

Fhara’s ‘Thank you’ caught in her throat, all she could do was nod. The larger group dispersed, individuals coming up to give her more reassurances and words of comfort as they passed before continuing on to their work. Urianger took G’raha aside for a word, both men departing to Dawn’s Respite, leaving the rest of the archons and the twins by Tataru’s desk with Fhara.

“So that’ll be a weight off your shoulders then?” Alisaie asked. Fhara nodded, letting out a heavy breath and slumping forward with the effort.

“I was more nervous for that than I thought, and it was just in front of the other Scions. But I’m glad. I feel like that is a step towards feeling more like myself, even if I never really strayed from that in the first place...I think.”

Thancred let out a thoughtful hum, looking over her suddenly tired frame. “I’ll say you never changed much, but I can see the ease it’s brought you now. Although if this is you after telling people that knew your little secret, how will you be with others, I wonder?” He ignored the peeved expression from Alisaie next to him as he brought it up, especially when Fhara’s face became a picture of concern.

“Oh, we’ll probably have to tell the Alliance leaders. Or do we? Is this an official thing I have to report on? Is there a process for this?” Fhara asked, eyebrows furrowing. Was there more work needed in this decision that she hadn’t thought of? Was there paperwork?

“Not to worry, I can get some official missives written up and shipped out in a jiffy,” Tataru stated, giving Fhara a bright smile and a thumbs up. Fhara returned it with a relieved look of her own, and the receptionist hopped onto her chair and set to work.

“Honestly, knowing diplomatic types, we could just use your name normally as though it's always been used, and rather than risk a faux pas, the Alliance leaders would just go along with it anyways,” Alisaie suggested with a wry smile.

Alphinaud shook his head at the suggestion. “While I don’t doubt that that is possible, sister, I would prefer if we erred on the safe side and actually updated the Alliance. We don’t have to make a large fuss over the matter for Fhara’s sake, but at least informing them of the change would be better for the Scions’ standing with them in terms of open communication.”

Alisaie rolled her eyes and mumbled, “Of course, brother.”

“At the very least, Lyse is already familiar with you personally,” Y’shtola said, addressing Fhara once more, “Even should the rest of the Alliance falter or take time to adjust, she would be able to take charge on the matter and make the adjustment easier for all. You needn’t worry about being left alone to handle this.”

“Yes, that’ll help,” Fhara smiled, however her eyes then dropped to the floor, a worrisome look on her face once more.

“Thinking now about how many people I’d need to update or inform, it feels daunting already. I’m questioning now why I thought the whole alias thing would be a good idea.”

“Really now, it’s beginning to sound like you’re thinking of telling the whole realm. You’re going to worry yourself like that,” Alisaie huffed. However she then added with a softer tone, “You said it yourself that you won’t be able to change everyone’s perception of you. Many will know the Warrior of Light, and some few will know Fufu. The odds of you coming across every familiar face you’ve ever known after this will be slim. But if it does happen, you don’t have to explain yourself in any great detail. All anyone needs to know now is that you’re just Fhara.”

The words, simple as they were, brought a warmth to her chest. And surrounded by her closest friends, those that had been with her for most of her journey and through thick and thin, the idea of continuing on into the unknown ahead of them didn’t seem as daunting anymore.

“Just Fhara...I like that.”

And that was all she needed.

#My writing #ffxiv fanfic #fufu faelune #fhara laali #my wol #Final Fantasy XIV #FFXIV #stormblood #Shadowbringers #fanfiction #ffxiv writing #how do titles work #fic titles i mean #i mused real hard for this one ahaha

[yamayamawrites]

Pickle - A Switched Prequel

A/N: Hello hello! In my recent fic “Switched”, I mentioned that Tsukkishima and Yamaguchi had a cat named “Pickle”. I got the brilliant idea to write a one-shot about how they got Pickle, and also, how they got together. They can be read alone but technically they take place in the same universe! You don’t need to read one to understand the other - they just share a headcanon of mine that Tsukki and Yamaguchi have a pet together! 

You can find this on my AO3 page here or you can read below! Either way, as always thanks for reading and I really hope you enjoy!

Tsukkishima stood outside Yamaguchi’s door, shifting a bit uncomfortably in the cool fall air. They had the day off from practice, and Yamaguchi hadn’t come to school, which was unusual. Normally Tsukkishima would play like he didn’t care and go home, but his feet dragged him here without his consent. He’d gone home and at first, he thought he’d stay there, but without even realizing it he’d packed an overnight bag and was out the door with a quick goodbye to his mother. Said overnight bag sat by his feet as he debated whether he should knock.

He didn’t need to, as it turned out. Yamaguchi swung the door open, jumping a bit in surprise and almost dropping the potted plant in his hand. “Oh, hey Tsukki!” he chirped in his normal way, despite the fact that his eyes were very clearly saying “asshole, you nearly gave me a heart attack”.

“Mind if I come in?” Tsukki asked, his usual droning tone having vanished. Yamaguchi wordlessly stepped aside.

“I’ll be in in a minute, this pot just needs more dirt.”

“Okay,” Tsukki called over his shoulder, already welcoming himself into the western-style home. He looked around at the dozens of potted plants, breathing in the air which smelled mostly like Yamaguchi with a hint of dirt. This was probably the most bizarre part of Yamaguchi’s personality, and the one that surprised him the most when he first came over. Both Yamaguchi and his mother (who Tsukki rarely saw anymore) had such natural green thumbs that half the time when Tsukki came over it was because his mother asked him to go get some fresh vegetables from their garden. Now, though, with the onslaught of winter just a few weeks away, all the outdoor vegetables migrated inside.

Tsukki spent his time trying to find a surface that didn’t contain a plant. That was how he usually spent his time when Yamaguchi wandered the house, watering plants while he watched. Sometimes they moved; Tsukki made note that the tall tree-like plant that had been in the corner by the television had now made its way to the dining area.

Though it was bizarre, it was never anything Tsukki really paid much mind to outside of Yamaguchi’s home. The smell of dirt didn’t follow Yamaguchi the way Tsukki might have expected it to, and aside from the occasional dirt stain on Yamaguchi’s uniform he gave no hints to his hobby. Tsukki almost wondered if Yamaguchi felt embarrassed of it, but no, that couldn’t be it, because on occasion he brought fresh pies and such for the team members using the fruits and vegetables grown at home.

Yamaguchi toed his shoes off at the front door as he returned inside, setting down a relatively large strawberry plant on the table in the front window – which was now so overcrowded with plants that Tsukki worried one might topple. Judging by the smear of dirt on the rug, that’s what had happened that required Yamaguchi to refill the pot in the first place.

“I’m really glad you’re here, Tsukki,” Yamaguchi commented offhandedly as he readjusted the pots on the table so they were at least a little less likely to fall. “I was actually going to call and ask you to come over.”

“Oh yeah?” Tsukki droned back, but his heart skipped a bit. He and Yamaguchi were in a weird sort of limbo with their relationship; he had no better way to describe it than a weird game where they tried to act like everything was normal between them, when it most certainly wasn’t. Not after Tsukki last spent the night.

In fact, that was mostly why he ended up here – to clear the air. He wondered if Yamaguchi had stayed home to avoid him, but as his eager friend ushered him down the hall towards his bedroom, he panicked and thought maybe Yamaguchi was done pretending.

When Yamaguchi pushed open the door, Tsukkishima realized, oh, we’re not going to talk about it.

Sitting on the bed with a piece of ribbon around its neck as a makeshift collar was an orange kitten, maybe not even eight weeks old, playing with a ping pong ball. “So,” Yamaguchi cleared his throat, grabbing Tsukki’s wrist and pulling him into the room before closing the door behind them, “this is…a cat.”

“I can see that,” Tsukki replied. “Mind explaining a little more?”

“Well,” Yamaguchi rubbed his neck sheepishly, teetering back and forth on the balls of his feet. “See, when I woke up I put my cucumber plants out on my windowsill so they could get some extra sun while I took a shower. And well, when I came back…he was here. Gnawing away on my cucumber plant.”

“What happened to the plant?”

“Who cares, Tsukki?” Yamaguchi replied with a stifled giggle. “What do you think we should name him?”

“’We’?” Tsukki questioned, the smallest hint of a blush touching his cheeks. “I’m not taking joint custody of a rat.”

“First of all, it’s a kitten,” Yamaguchi pouted, “and second, I can’t really…afford to take care of it on my own.”

“Then let it go,” Tsukki droned.

“No, it’ll die!” Yamaguchi huffed. “I think it’s one of the strays around here’s kitten. Haven’t seen her around in weeks, and I even asked a few of the neighbors if their kitten got out.”

“Is this why you weren’t at school today?” Tsukki asked finally.

“Does it matter? Okay, yes, I wasn’t at school. You’re changing the topic,” Yamaguchi whined in a way that made Tsukki want to bite his tongue and never annoy Yamaguchi again.

“What do you want from me?” Tsukkishima asked cautiously. This all crept towards ‘couple’ territory – owning a pet together was the first step in having kids together, and Tsukki’s face turned a sickly green. Oh god, we can’t have kids, we barely even kissed and we can’t even talk to each other about that and a cat is super close to raising a kid…

“I’m not going to ask for much,” Yamaguchi replied just as cautiously. He could tell Tsukki’s mind had already reeled itself into a knot by the way his face turned green. “You don’t even have to act like it’s yours. I was just wondering if you could lend me some supplies.”

Tsukki’s childhood cat had passed away when he was ten, and both boys knew well that instead of donate the food bowl and litter box, his mother had stored them away in case they ever decided to get another cat. Nearly six years later and there was no cat to show for it. Tsukki’s shoulders relaxed; he was sure his mother would rather give the supplies to someone she knew, anyway. Plus, this meant that his earlier conclusion of joint custody could have been off.

“Also will you help pick a name?” Yamaguchi spat quickly, his cheeks flushing as he snapped his head to the floor to avoid looking at Tsukki.

“Ah, yes to the supplies. No to the name.”

“Tsukki,” Yamaguchi whined.

“Fine. How about ‘Tadashi’?”

“Tsukki!”

Tsukkishima huffed, running a hand through his hair. “Alright, alright…you’re sure you want to keep it, though?”

“Yeah! He’ll keep me company when mom’s not home.”

That statement in itself probably would have had Tsukki in tears (internally; he didn’t cry on the outside) had they not been in such a weird place with their relationship and his mind not been taken up trying to unfurl that mess.

Yamaguchi scratched the cat behind the ears, eliciting a purr from him. “What do you think of ‘Pickle’?”

“Why Pickle?” Tsukki asked, cautiously stepping forward to pet the cat as well.

“Because he was eating my cucumber plant,” Yamaguchi shrugged. “And ‘Cucumber’ isn’t as cute.”

“I like it,” Tsukki murmured, voice ever so soft as his knuckles bumped against Yamaguchi’s. Neither of them looked at each other, blushing furiously; instead, they stared down at the cat, which was tilting its head this way and that to encourage more head pats.

After a few moments, Yamaguchi cleared his throat. “U-um,” he broke the silence, “I hate to ask you to do this, since you came all the way here and all, but could you—”

“You want me to go get the stuff, huh?” Tsukki droned. Yamaguchi flushed and nodded quickly.

Tsukki finally sighed and got up, rifling through Yamaguchi’s closet.

“H-hey!” Yamaguchi cried. “What are you doing?”

“It’s cold and I left my jacket at home,” Tsukkishima replied with a slight shrug. In all honesty, it had been something of a ploy to encourage them to talk about what happened between them. Still, without that conversation happening, Tsukki felt an odd satisfaction in making Yamaguchi so embarrassed. “I figured it’s only fair, since you want me to go back out in the cold.”

“I-I’ll have hot cocoa waiting for you when you get back.”

***

Yamaguchi wasn’t lying. As Tsukkishima trudged back up to his door nearly an hour later, food bowl and litterbox awkwardly in his hands, Yamaguchi swung it open for him, already holding two steaming mugs. “Tsukki!” he said excitedly. “I almost thought you wouldn’t come back.”

“Sorry it took so long,” he said in a condescending tone. That shut Yamaguchi up. “It’s a little hard to carry this stuff such a long way.”

“Right!” Yamaguchi set the mugs down on the dining table and grabbed the litterbox from him. “I don’t suppose you’d want to go to the store with me to buy litter and food, would you?” he asked hopefully.

“Yamaguchi,” Tsukki replied in a warning tone.

“You’re right, you’re right!” he squeaked. “I’ll, um, I’ll go tomorrow morning.”

“If you want to go tonight, I can stay here and watch…the cat,” he mumbled, a little embarrassed that he would even suggest watching the thing.

Yamaguchi perked up. “You would?! Oh, that would be great!”

“Only if you’re quick,” Tsukki snapped uncharacteristically. He supposed it was mostly due to the tension that revolved around the two of them. “Sorry,” he supplied shortly after.

“I’ll be quick,” Yamaguchi agreed. “I just need a few things. Like a collar and stuff!”

The two flopped down onto the couch side by side, watching the curious kitten stumble his way out of Yamaguchi’s bedroom. He was cautious, sniffing everything in sight, stilling when he saw Tsukki and Yamaguchi watching him. “He’s a little skittish,” Yamaguchi murmured. “Please don’t scare him.”

“I won’t do anything on purpose,” Tsukki supplied, and though it was genuine, Yamaguchi laughed at the implication that Tsukkishima was intimidating even to cats.

By the time they had finished their hot cocoa, Pickle had decided the couch was a safe bet and settled onto it, still eyeing the two of them curiously. Yamaguchi carefully took the mug from Tsukki’s hands, making sure not to touch him (which frustrated Tsukki much more than it should have). He said little more than what was necessary to Tsukki before he gathered his things and left, and then it was just Tsukki and Pickle, who had taken to digging his paws into the couch.

Tsukkishima tried to redirect his attention with the strap of his overnight bag, which worked for approximately five minutes until the cat became bored again. He half-debated letting the cat run rampant and just playing on his phone, but he knew Yamaguchi would probably lose his mind if the cat knocked over one of the plants. So, every time the cat got even close to doing so, Tsukki would pluck him from his spot and move him somewhere else.

He chased the cat around the house for about an hour before Yamaguchi finally returned, carrying a few grocery bags. “I had to get the small bags because I don’t think I’d be able to carry it all the way,” he huffed, setting the bags aside while he took his shoes off. Tsukki grabbed the food out of the bag and took it along with the food dish to the sink.

“What’re you doing?” Yamaguchi asked quizzically.

“It’s a kitten,” Tsukki replied with a shrug. “It probably can’t eat super hard food. I’m going to mix it with some water.”

Tsukki missed the way Yamaguchi gazed at him like he was some sort of angel, and he certainly missed the way Yamaguchi blushed and wrapped his arms around himself defensively. Before long, he heard Yamaguchi pouring kitty litter into the litterbox, and while he mixed the food he could hear Yamaguchi chasing the kitten around the living room, trying to put its new collar on it.

Tsukki set the food dish near the front door, and immediately Pickle trotted over to him, making a happy noise before digging into the dish of mushy cat food. Yamaguchi watched him, a bit breathless from chasing the cat around. “You know a lot about animals, don’t you?” he asked.

“No,” Tsukkishima countered. “My childhood cat just had kittens one time, and I remember that’s how we fed the babies when they were old enough to eat.”

“Oh,” Yamaguchi mumbled. He slumped onto the couch, Tsukki by his side, and they watched the cat eat.

Every time their shoulders blushed Tsukkishima could feel Yamaguchi shy away, and it upset him to the point that he decided he was sick of playing this game of acting like everything was normal. “Can we please talk, Yama?” he asked softly, despite his anger.

“About?” Yamaguchi countered, but the way his body stiffened, Tsukki was sure Yamaguchi knew exactly what about.

“Last time I spent the night.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah.”

A silence fell over them, save for the noises of Pickle eating in the background. “I’m not mad,” Tsukkishima said finally, hoping maybe it would encourage Yamaguchi to explain why he kissed him.

He watched Yamaguchi’s shoulders slump. “I can’t apologize enough for that, huh?” Yamaguchi asked, almost a bit bitterly. “Look, I get it if you don’t have feelings for me or—”

“Who said that?” Tsukki countered, taking on a bitter tone himself. “You can’t make decisions like that for me and then lead me to believe something when—”

Tsukkishima stopped talking then, as Yamaguchi’s shoulders began to tremble. Tsukki dropped a gentle hand to Yamaguchi’s thigh, and the boy didn’t pull away. Instead, he glanced up, a few tears trickling down his cheeks. Tsukki used his other hand to wipe them away wordlessly, and before either of them could restrain themselves, their lips were brushing on each other’s again.

It was different this time. For one, Tsukkishima hadn’t been in the middle of talking and interrupted by an eager Yamaguchi stealing the words from his mouth. No, this one felt more longing, a bit more understanding of each other. Hearing Tsukkishima deny him an apology, even if that didn’t mean he also had feelings for him, felt like the most wonderful moment in the world. Tsukki himself had been toying with the idea of attraction towards Yamaguchi long before the kiss, and when Yamaguchi forced an apology and begged them to pretend nothing happened after the first kiss, it had broken his heart. But now, now he felt like he could finally repay Yamaguchi how he should have in the first place; he returned the kiss, or perhaps he initiated it. Neither of them knew who moved first, nor would they bother to pin that blame.

Their lips met with more intensity the second they parted to breathe. Having known Yamaguchi so long, Tsukki wondered idly (between the near-constant thoughts of wow, this feels nice) if that’s how their lips moved together so wonderfully. Any clumsiness his classmates had talked about when they had their first kisses hadn’t presented itself. Tsukki’s hand that had been on Yamaguchi’s thigh moved to grab his waist, his body turning to face Yamaguchi more.

The feeling of Yamaguchi’s arms winding their way around Tsukki’s neck was shocking enough itself, were it not for the ease with which Yamaguchi pressed their bodies together, resulting in Tsukki laying on the couch with a surprisingly dominant Yamaguchi on top.

A soft ‘meow’ across the room had them pulling apart just as quickly as they’d connected, faces flushed and breath labored. They refused to look at each other. Pickle the kitten was proudly sitting in the mush of food, cleaning his paws with his tongue.

“Such an efficient way to eat food,” Tsukki droned sarcastically, and Yamaguchi laughed.

Maybe nothing really had changed; maybe this was how it was meant to be. Tsukkishima couldn’t help but hope so.

#tsukkiyama #tsukkishima kei #yamaguchi tadashi #haikyuu!! #switched universe #headcanon #yamamamawrites

[monicaaaaatje]

DaisySous drabbles - The one where he becomes an inhuman

It was dark on the inside of her brain.  Stupid, stupid, stupid.  She should have checked the books. She should have checked the goddamn books.  “You’re okay. You’re gonna be okay. Daniel, stay with me. Stay with me, do you hear me?”  They had been back in 2020 for a good three months. They had rebuild their lives for as far as humanly possible. Mack had retired from SHIELD, May had started on a teaching program for new cadets, Daniel Sousa had been given the gig of new SHIELD director and she... She was feeling something for the man from the 1950′s she hadn’t felt in a long time: Love. Sickening, fluffy love. If her life had been one of those romantic movies, she would have been puking all the way through the movie. That kind of sickening love. And best of all: That love was mutual. Through the past three months, Daniel Sousa had emerged as a true champ when it came to adapting to her era and she could truthfully say that she was proud of him. 

“I got these books from some inhuman friends. They should help with rebuilding afterlife 2.0. You wanna help me go through them?”  As Daniel didn’t know everything quiet yet about what there was to know about the 21st century (He still had to ask if it was certain that he couldn’t kill anyone with an ICER, every damn time), he co-shared the directors position with May, who, when all the gaps where filled, wanted to get some well deserved rest when SHIELD was rolling again. That meant going on a well deserved vacation with LMD Coulson, then starting a new SHIELD academy program in a permanent building, with Coulson his knowledge to help out.  So it happend that sometimes, Daniel had the day off, which he spend with Daisy, getting to know more things about her time, watching weird movies, or just plainly cuddling up together in bed. Since a few weeks, she had taken up an entire new project: Rebuilding afterlife, a place where all inhumans (or people with the gene) could be safe from mankind. She liked to call it afterlife 2.0, but Fitzsimmons and YoYo had disagreed with her. “Afterlife is the name your psychotic mom gave to the place. You should name it something that shows the goodness coming from it.”  To give her building tools, she had asked around her inhuman connections, for materials that still originated from Afterlife 1.0. It had turned out to be quite a stack of books, so she definitely needed some help. She probably did Daniel a favor by asking him for his help. Might remind him of his past.  They had spend the entire day going through the books, looking for information and research. On a plus side, the books had been the perfect opportunity to explain Daniel more about her background and life story.  They’d been having pretty much fun, spending time together like this, but then he had started on some older books, and a terrigenisis crystal had fallen out.  “Don’t be scared, it’s gonna be okay. It’s gonna be okay.”  Before he had known what happend to him, he had been covered in a husk.  “I need some help over here!”  Simmons had come running to her aid, looking at the entire situation with a mixture of surprise and horror on her face.  “The books had a fail safe,” Daisy squealed. “He didn’t sign up for this, I should have checked the books. Fuck, I should have checked-”  Daisy was ripped from her thoughts when the husk cracked open and Daniel fell out of it, quite literally.  “Daniel, are you okay? I’m so, so incredibly sorry.”  He was opening and closing his eyes again. When his muscles started to convulse, Daisy realized she was panicking: This wasn’t how a normal inhuman transformation went.  “Daisy, step away”, Simmons ordered. All Daniel could do was produce a soft moaning, what changed into screams of pain.  “His leg- This is highly uncommon.”  The two young woman looked in shock to each other, realizing that what was currently happening- “Shh, shh, you’re gonna be okay. You’re gonna be okay. You need to get his prothesis off, Simmons. Ssshh, ssssh. It’s all gonna be fine. You’re gonna be fine.”  The moment he had started to scream, Daisy had positioned herself behind him, holding him, stroking her fingers through his hair.  The transformation probably hadn’t been able to complete as he had still been wearing his prothesis. So it was completing itself... Right now. Completely regrowing a new limp could be nothing else then painful.  Simmons was busy taking the prothesis off while Daisy kept holding him, knowing very well how scary all of this could be. She saw how his legt kept growing, how a foot started to form, and how after the leg had completed growing, Daniel fell back in Daisy her arms, exhausted and eventually unconscious.  “Poor man.”  What happend after passed by Daisy in a blur. She remembered how Simmons got her assistants ready to transport Daniel to the medical floor in the lighthouse while she kept staring to the empty space in front of her. She should have checked the damn books. 

_________________________________________________

When Daisy headed to medical, she had put her own feelings aside.  She would, at length, apologize to Daniel when the time was right and he could handle it. Right now, she needed her rational side to maintain in order. A new inhuman needed her help.  “Daisy, good, you’re here.”  Simmons shooed her assistants away from the lab, where she had put Daniel in an isolation chamber.  “It’s quite bizarre, but the scans showed that the transition has made him regain his leg for the full 100%. He should be mostly sleeping off the transition right now, and after... After, he’s more your department.”  “Thanks Jemma.”  Daisy passed the lab space, entering the isolation room and closing the door behind her. She sat down next to his bed, squeezing his hand in hers.  Besides the fact that he was sleeping off the transition, he still looked like he was exhausted.  An hour passed. Two. Three. She played  with her phone, stroked his hair, spoke to the others, who asked how he was doing. Even little Diana had showed up in the lab.  “Is uncle Daniel going to be okay, auntie Daisy?”  Everyone on the team -or what was left from it- was an aunt or uncle to the 3-year-old. Period.  “We’ll have to see, pumpkin,” Daisy had answered the girl who was way too smart for her age. “He is more like me now.”  When the evening had fallen, he had woken up with a gasp.  “Hey hey hey, you’re okay. You’re okay. Jemma!”  Daniel tried to get rid of all the stickers and wires he was connected to. Daisy tried to push him back into the pillows, trying to get him to calm down- “Don’t.”  He had gasped for air. Slowly, Daisy moved back in her seat. Panting, he put himself back on his side. Now he started to realize what had happend to his leg.  “My... What the... What the hell?”  “I’m so sorry,” Daisy blurted out while Simmons checked his vitals. “The books had an inhumanity fail safe-”  “Daisy, it’s not your fault,” Simmons replied. “Daniel, can you tell me how you’re feeling so far?”  “I... I...”  He stared at his right leg, slowly started touching it, like he could get stung by bees any minute.  “We-”  He put his finger in the air, a move human Coulson used a lot back when she got a lecture. Don’t talk.  “What happend?” He asked hoarsely.  “You were going with Daisy through some inhuman archival books”, Simmons answered before Daisy could say anything.”One of the books was triggered with a failsafe: A terrigenisis crystal had been hidden inside, to prevent anyone without the inhuman gene from opening it and surviving it. By opening the book, you broke the crystal. The moment your body got covered in an inhuman husk, your transformation started”.  Daisy couldn’t read anything from his face. What was he thinking? “And after? I imagine that this-” He said, while pointing at his regrown leg “did not happen without reason.”  “Our best guess is that it didn’t take hold during your transformation because you were still wearing your prosthetic. That is why it happend after, but to be sure, we’d need to run some tests.”  “Thank you”, Daniel answered. “Would you mind-”  “Of course,” Jemma excused herself. “I assume you and Daisy will be having a lot to talk about.”  She left the room, leaving Daniel and Daisy on their own. Daisy noticed he was still staring at his leg. Knowing how sensitive the subject was to him, she decided he might want to be alone. “I... If you want to be alone, I totally get it. This must be quite a shock-”  “Daisy, you don’t have to pity me. We’ve been over this before, the leg and everything-” “Wait, what?”  She wasn’t following.  “You just said that you were doubting if you had to leave me alone for a while or if you would drop all the other stuff that comes with becoming an inhuman on me.”  “I didn’t say that.”  She had not said that. She had only thought about it...  “Don’t tell me how confused you are. Don’t-” Now he was staring at her face. At her lips.  “I can hear you.” “But I’m-”  “Shh!”  He kept focussing on her face. She could see his eyes narrow, while he focussed on her.  “Your lips aren’t moving, but I can hear you think.”  “You... Hang on a minute.”  She moved her seat closer to his bed, away from the windows, so they could look around the lab. The lab was empty, despite Simmons and a few of her assistants.  “Can you- Does anything come from Simmons?”  Daniel looked at her. His eyes widened.  “She... She’s contemplating if she should talk to you about what happend with me.”  The pair looked at each other and they both knew what had changed.  Daniel had received the inhuman gift of reading minds.  Hey loves, this is a drabble where the lovely @agentofmarvel084 will be writing a multi chapter fic about! I wrote this drabble because I wanted to play with ideas and everything and wanted to look at how crazy we’re gonna get with the multichapter fic. Duely note, this drabble won’t be canon with the fic we’re going to write. This will be posted on ao3 drabbles with parts about Daniel learning to control his gift. 

Enjoy your evening :) 

#agents of shield #aos fanfiction #agents of shield fanfiction #Daisy Johnson #Daniel Sousa #inhumans

[severalspoons]

Long Rambling Trigun Meta Discussion 2

I *hate* the reply function in Tumblr. As far as I’m concerned, it doesn’t function. It doesn’t even open up a findable page so I can respond, and I can’t directly answer the reply. That’s why I reblog.

So, here’s the next best thing:

tiggymalvern

I don't recall anything like that fic you mention from either canon. It's a lovely idea, if only I could imagine Vash and Knives stopping arguing with each other for long enough to do it.

This fic I’m remembering was surprisingly hard to find, and now I’m wondering if it’s from FF.net rather than AO3. Will share once I find it!

The twins argue while doing it, IIRC, and have very different approaches. Luckily for the humans, in this fic the engineer likes the plant and takes care of it well, given how little is actually known about how to do so post-crash. Even so, Knives almost kills the engineer, but Vash stops him and leaves behind a little journal full of advice and encouragement. 

IMO, I feel like this is something Vash would be motivated to do more than Knives:

-- to repair his relationship with Knives

-- because he feels responsible for the people Rem saved

-- because he wants the bulb plants to be safe and happy

(listed in the order I thought of them)

But Knives would see this as slight progress towards Vash seeing things his way, so he’d go with it. What do you think?

tiggymalvern

I've never been entirely clear on the manga ending myself, and I think Nightow left it somewhat ambiguous deliberately. Vash and Knives are fighting, and then the earth forces attack them both, Livia intevenes and Vash and Knives fly off and

six months later we find Vash in hiding with the people who saved him, because Knives convinced them to, and then Knives plants an apple tree to help feed the peopl looking after Vash, and then he vanishes...

I assume he chose not to stay with humans and just went off somewhere, but it's left open

Interesting! Yeah, I got the sense it was supposed to be deliberately ambiguous, too. 

Many people say that Knives died giving his last energy to save Vash, to the point where I thought that was canon. 

No matter what happened with Knives and the tree, I have questions. If Knives planted the tree before dying or disappearing or whatever, I’d want to know where he got the apple seeds, and if providing the energy to make that tree survive on Gunsmoke killed him. If he turned into a tree (which I thought was the canon, but maybe not?), how? I can see why you didn’t interpret Knives as turning into a tree.

All I know for sure is, if Knives were dying, he’d want to do it on his own terms. Ideally in a way that would express his point and make an impression on Vash. I was going to say that creating a tree doesn’t seem like Knives’ style, but then I thought about the apple tree scenes in the anime. However that tree came to be, Vash would most likely associate it with happier times on the ship. Maybe he’d be fucked up enough to see it as a gesture of love. 

Maybe it was the closest thing to a gesture of love someone as manipulative and self-absorbed as Knives could manage...

tiggymalvern  Knives really is a person with no middle ground. When he believed Rem's teachings, he believed them wholeheartedly, that everything would turn out fine and people just needed to be given a chance. When he rejected those teachings and decided it was all just rubbish, he went maximum speed to the other extreme. Reject ALL humans, not just the individuals who had proven that they suck. And reject as in eradicate, not just avoid... 

I love Knives’ all-or-nothing way of being. Maybe because I know and love so many people with a little streak of that. And it’s so believable. Reminds me of a quote I read somewhere about how a misanthrope is a disillusioned idealist.

Knives thinks in utilitarian terms (”the greatest good for the greatest number with the least possible sacrifice”) as a kid for the few short scenes before he turns evil. He also seems to think in terms of groups rather than individuals (”humans,” “spiders,” “butterflies”). It saves him the grief Vash goes through at coming to know and lose so many people, but it also helps him justify a racist ideology. I love that about him, actually. If I were to write a Knives redemption fic, a key arc would be helping him learn to see others as individuals. I have a few paragraphs of something like that written...

Kids definitely need wonder and to see the beauty in the world, but it's also a good idea to mention the possibility of weird strangers offering candy that are best avoided. For these bizarre new non-human children, those warnings would have been extra pertinent, and maybe would have reduced the shock of what came after. Knives is definitely more mature than Vash in those flashbacks. Like you say, he wants to discuss issues with Vash, and Vash just parrots Rem. 

Agree.

I have a theory. Earth, in Trigunverse, seems a lot like our world, only worse.

I’ve seen a lot of people’s sense of wonder, beauty, fun, and curiosity squished. I was the weirdo in preschool, among other four year olds, for being too much like that. Maybe on Trigun Earth, a bleak place to begin with, that’s the norm. (And destroying people’s wonder/curiosity/etc. leads to depression and the ennui of modern life, but that’s another essay).

Some people, like those who run Waldorf schools, overreact by going to the opposite extreme. The worst, most ideologically rigid ones, deliberately wait to teach kids to read so they can explore the world unmediated by words a little longer. (And will even discourage kids who learn to read early, grr). Waldorf philosophy assumes young kids are basically sensing, feeling, and imagining beings, rather than thinking ones. 

I get the sense that Rem is one of these sorts. She was squashed and made to feel worthless for the way she saw the world. Maybe that’s part of the reason she was so depressed and needed Alex’s help. She’s raising the twins the way she wished she had been raised.

That sort of parenting wasn’t appropriate for a plant, of course. But no one had raised independent plants to adulthood before. No one knew what was appropriate. No one knew how to teach them about danger (or how not to). 

Growing up as a neurodivergent person in the Dark Ages, the only kid with allergies and sensory processing problems, etc., I understand all too well how badly things can go when even the most loving parents just don’t know what to do, and can’t find helpful information anywhere. Where helpful information isn’t just hard to find, but it doesn’t exist yet. 

So as critical as I’m being of Rem, I sympathize with her. She really didn’t have much to go on but her own knowledge and experience, and she bravely did the best she could.

Vash isn't thinking for himself yet, but he's a kid, so that's allowable. It does make it harder for Knives, though, who feels he has to be responsible for them both. 

You know, Knives does feel responsible for them both, and I hadn’t thought much about it and about the implications of that. No wonder he was so frustrated and furious. There’s definitely a sense of “something is deeply unfair and wrong” for a child trying to raise not only themselves, but their younger sibling(s).  Perhaps that’s part of the reason I saw Knives as caring about Vash, in his toxic, screwed up way. 

Plant biology is MASSIVELY confusing, and the more you try to piece it together, the more your head hurts LOL. But I think that's almost the point? ...Leaving the readers struggling to figure out the plants is the human perspective.

What do you think about the anime being so much from a human pov, especially considering that the most important characters in it are not?

Wolfwood is the support Vash needs to learn to control his plant powers among other things, the powers that have terrified Vash for so long that he ignored them. But Wolfwood isn't scared of them - or rather, he is, but not scared enough to abandon Vash because of them. He knows all about Vash, he knows all about July and the hole in the moon, he's seen Vash transform into some weird crazy thing with feathers, and Wolfwood still stays. Wolfwood lets Vash know that Vash's mistakes can be forgiven, and Vash is still a worthwhile person despite them. And because Wolfwood believes it, Vash can start to believe it. 

Between how well you put this and the dynamic itself, I’m...blown away and don’t know what to say. 

– “Vash, take care of Knives.” This breaks my heart because so far … he hasn’t. First he follows Knives around. Then abandons him. Then attacks him. I really do think Vash was trying. He followed Knives around for so long while being so angry with him for what he'd done, and yes, part of that was because he didn't want to be alone himself, but part of it was him trying to follow Rem's advice. 

Yeah, true, he did try at first. I undervalued it because by the time the series starts, that was far into the past and Vash probably doesn’t even remember it, but still.

In the manga, Rem specifically says, 'Vash, don't leave Knives alone,' because I think she recognises that Knives is prone to extremes and needs a balance. 

See, that instruction makes so much more sense. And I think the plants would have agreed. (Well, of course they would. They’re a collective consciousness, after all).

Rem probably also knew it’s bad for anyone’s health or sanity to be alone, and an emotionally unstable twin plant even more so. Knives would be in a solitary confinement of his own making.

Vash tried and tried to get Knives to change; he spent so much effort trying to explain why genocide wasn't the answer. But Vash failed, and eventually he recognised that he was always going to fail. So he left Knives, because he needed a life that wasn't that failure. He needed to do something to compensate for Knives. He took upon himself the responsibility of not only protecting the humans from Knives, but protecting the humans from the worst in themselves, which Knives' actions brought to the surface. And that is one hell of a lot to take on, and not a recipe for a happy life.

Yeah, that’s...a heroic life, but not a happy one. In a way, it seems almost as doomed as trying to change Knives. 

#trigun #meta #character analysis #vash the stampede #knives millions #millions knives #rem saverem #baby plants #oversharing #me irl #nicholas d. wolfwood #vash/wolfwood #vash the stampede/nicholas d. wolfwood #vashwood #killing time #fucked up sibling relationships #trigun anime #headcanons

[hootpoop12]

Ok, Meat route feelings:

Ok, this is...by FAR the superior route just saying. Not. That that is saying much seeing what the candy route was but every time I fall into despair over this I just grit my teeth and think about how parts of meat weren’t terrible pfft

-Lets get the johnrezi out of the way cause that’s kinda my thing. So. Good shit pfft I will admit I was little worried that Calliope and mainly Dirk could have tampered with them a bit but I’m pretty sure for the most part they didn’t? Dirk kinda made John feel weird post coital which kinda pissed me off but other than that. Them feelings 100% legit. These two people genuinely love each other. In both routes John’s thought would ALWAYS drift back to Terezi and Terezi’s only comfort was having John’s body with her after it all. Their romance is both cathartic because they are two MISERABLE people who only have each other to understand their feelings and fucking tragic because in candy all he had was a picture and in meat they had a physical confirmation of their feelings only for it to be voyeur’d and then ripped away by fucking John’s death. If there is more to come- I can only image there is- Terezi and Vriska will hopefully somehow team up and look for a way to revive John. Even If their romance was fleeting like 95% ship in Homestuck their support and care for one another is fucking REAL. It was straight UP the only real thing in Candy and I will fight others who say differently. 

-John going back in time to round everyone up felt weird. For the first time they all really felt like children and them all fighting lord english? WOW. Ouch. Especially Dave?? This Dave was the last to go and in the most brutal fucking way?? Kid had to watch Rose and Jade die and still fought pretty well, though. which goes to show Dave is a fucked up dude but when it comes to shit that needs to get done he can hold his own. Thaaaaaats why Adult Dave in both epilogues kinda grated on me a little? Not to fucking say UGH Dave is now more healed and stable this sucks!! I’m more saying there’s a lot of fics that whumpify Dave into a soft boi who too pure for this world and it slightly reminds me of it. That’s probably more of me just being to attached to MY view and headcanons of Dave, though, and maybe I need to let that go a little? 

-Davekat finally fucking happened. Ten years is too long of a slow burn for me I’m sorry lmao seriously I sound like Dirk when I say this but I really thought they sac’d up during the meteor and were already in a relationship. Dave’s whole conversation with John on the lilypad.......literally sounded like he was in a relationship with Karkat.......what the hell, honestly...........I’m glad it was on Dave’s own volition rather than’s Dirk’s gross as fuck pushing at least.

-That brings us to Dirk. The man who has been making my stomach church whenever I remember. My feelings about him are...............fucking complicated. I’ve been reblogging and bitching about him being “ruined” or whatever but.......That really is the simplified version of what I’ve been thinking. I think.....He’s been corrupted by his aspect or he’s just taking this heel “must be the new villain” too seriously. Like, I fucking despise it when people go off and say Bro was corrupted by Cal or Gamzee was corrupted by literally anything cause those two are just fucking trash, I’m sorry. I think I’m mostly upset by Dirk more than anything because his WHOLE thing was that he was a controlling dude with the potential to become an atrocious man and that he was starting to really take control of his path and work his way into becoming a better person. His talk with Jane on his sacrificial slab? His talk with Dave on the roof..........His heart aspect had begun to bring all his splinters together for his ultimate self and when the majority of your splinters carry a very sociopathic personality..............Man, there was literally no hope for him ever, huh? Literally none. The theme of working towards a better version of yourself is MEANINGLESS if your name is Dirk Strider. A character who struggles with depression, suicide, and absolute self loathing and his only path is this. Become the monster he was always terrified to become. Like I’m straight up about to cry writing this holy shit. Dirk is one of my favorite characters of all time- my FIRST favorite character when reading the comic- one of my MAIN reasons for reading it because I heard there was a canon gay character and I needed that in that time of my life. What almost hurts just as much as Dirk being a good guy and forcefully having this fate thrust upon him is that Roxy, the person Dirk cared about the most,.........Like............misgendering them. and being incredibly flippant and rude about trans stuff.......I can’t even begin to describe how much it hurt to read the character you looked up so much fucking being terrible about something that means so much to you. I’m agender and it just hurt is all I’m saying. This leads back to the bizarre issue of Dirk also being sexist and using gay in a strangely duragatory way. Like, Dirk grew up not really putting values on labels so for him to be weirdly transphobic does lead back to the ideas of this being a corrupted Dirk or him just playing the role of a villain. I do believe there is still the old Dirk we know in there, however, as even now Dirk states he could NOT hurt Dave. So some hope?

-Jake. I’m pretty sure Hussie fucking hates the dude like holy shit lmao......lmao in the least funniest way..............In both route Jake is jerked around like a plaything, having his personality dampened by the oppressive narrative. The one time we see Jake have repreive from such a shitty fate is when he’s talking to davekat about the election. That was the single moment we saw the curtain fall and the “intelligence” reenter the dude. I know this is like the “fanon” version of Jake. Every single character has fallen to that: whumpified Dave, puppet master dirk, bitchy mean jane, ect but litereally reading about him coming back to himself fucking HURT. Him being made to be obsessed with Dirk was so fucking gross I was cringing the entire time. The last few months I’ve been slowly accepting DirkJake back into my heart and this just fucking SHATTERED that warmth holy shit. Jake’s struggles with non-consensual bullshit is really starting to wear me down I just want him to be happy and RESPECTED. 

-Alrighty heavy stuff out of the way I will say this: I read candy first and at the end where Alt!Calliope is speaking to Aradia I had almost no goddamn idea what the fuck she was talking about. I even started to get kinda angry cause Homestuck tends to not take itself TOO seriously? There are some philosopical mind melting shit to read and consider but never too much where it’s incomprehensible to me? So when I finished candy I was like alright. Hussie just wanted to jerk himself off. whatever. Then I read meat and was like. OH. This.......this is actually fantastically interesting I can do this meta bullshit! and despite everything I just said about Dirk..........I fucking MISSED reading in his voice and it caught me off guard SO much which is what I love about Homestuck. There were a lot of tip offs but the one that really stood out to me before finding out was the Jake and Jane makeout. It kept going back to Dirk and I was very surprised by that? Jake sounded like he was over Dirk and yet here he was......unable to stop thinking about it? Shit makes. SO much sense I definitely am gonna reread it to look for other stuff, too. The tug of war via the narrative was incrediably entertaining as well.....Dirk is like a super sensitve incel now (caliborn would be proud) so it was hilarious to see him lose grip of it to Calliope. UGH I’m a little guilty to say it but I’m such a slut for anything Dirk I’m also KINDA looking forward to see where this goes and enjoying him being a villain A LITTLE. I know I sound wish washy but hey sometimes feelings contradict!

#Homestuck #upd8 #Homestuck spoilers #personal #dirk strider #johnrezi

[homespork-review]

Spork Introduction

CHEL: Hi! I go by Chel, they or she pronouns, and I’m the one spearheading this project. I still like at least a fair percentage of Homestuck, but after the ending disappointed me a great deal, I got bitter, and when Hussie pissed me off further by Godwinning himself, I decided to do something about it. I’m no longer angry about it, but I felt I’d benefit from picking out what I hate from what I love so I can focus on the latter without annoyance getting in the way, and also to benefit my own writing efforts.

BRIGHT: Howdy! I’m Bright, and I got into Homestuck fairly recently. After ploughing through the archive and digesting for a while, I realised that I was thoroughly annoyed by how something enjoyable had fallen apart so comprehensively. I am looking forward to the time-honoured practice of ripping the story apart to identify its weak points and shout at them.

FAILURE ARTIST: Hello, I’m Failure Artist (call me FA for short), she/her/herself pronouns, and I’m so old-school they burned the school down. I was introduced to Homestuck via Something Awful’s Webcomic thread. I checked the old mspadventures.com site and the latest update was [S] John: Bite Apple. After watching that bizarre piece of animation, I had to know what the hell happened before then. I found I enjoyed the wit of the comic though I didn’t really care much about the plot. It was only when Act 5 came around that I became a serious fan. I currently have 122 Homestuck works on Archive of Our Own. I have a lot of free time, you see. I am very disappointed in how Homestuck ended. Possibly there was no completely satisfactory way it could end but it still could have been better. I feel like Hussie was a juggler who threw a lot of balls into the air and ignored them as they fell to the ground and some fans think not catching them was a master move since you’d expect he’d try to catch at least one. Sadly, lots of the problems with the ending are embedded deep within the canon.

TIER: Hi hi. I am Tier, a very late newcomer to the wonderful world of Homestuck (2018 reader!) and average fan overall. I love this webcomic to bits, but the low points are deep and I enjoy seeking out what the heck went wrong. Not particularly analytical myself, hope that's cool!

CHEL: Cool by us! We’ve already done plenty of analysing before we started, as you may realise from my Tumblr’s “homestuck ending hate” tag (at @chelonianmobile).

FAILURE ARTIST: But let’s put that aside for a moment and talk about the good stuff. 

Homestuck is incredibly innovative. It is the first true webcomic. It’s not just a print comic posted online. It uses not just still images and words but also animation, music, and interactive games.

Homestuck is the latest adventure in the series MS Paint Adventures. MS Paint Adventures started as a forum adventure. In forum adventures, the OP acts as a sort of Dungeon Master and other forum members give them prompts. Andrew Hussie’s previous works under MS Paint Adventures were Jailbreak (which is little more than Hussie dicking with the prompters in scatological ways), Bard’s Quest (Choose-your-own-adventure), and the actually-completed Problem Sleuth. Problem Sleuth lacks the music and animation and despite the weird physics shenanigans is a simpler story than Homestuck. The characters aren’t even two dimensional.

Homestuck (and the previous MS Paint Adventures minus Bard’s Quest) are set up like adventure games. Adventure games are where the player is a protagonist in a story and are usually focused on puzzle-solving though sometimes there’s combat. In the beginning, these games were purely text. The player would type what they wanted to do and the game would spout back text describing it - assuming the computer parser understood you.

CHEL: Oh god, I HATED that. I wasn’t around for the heyday but I’ve played a couple and

Pale Luna

was barely an exaggeration (horror warning).

FAILURE ARTIST: As graphics improved, adventure games started using them, but the commands were still in text. Only later was the point-and-click interface created and players didn’t have to guess what exact sentence the computer wanted them to type. Homestuck and the other MS Paint Adventures play with that frustration while paying tribute to the genre. The game within the comic uses RPG elements but the comic itself is set up like those good ol’ adventure games. In the beginning, Homestuck was guided by commands from forum members. Even after he closed the suggestion box, he used memes and fanon created by readers.

CHEL: How good an idea this was varies, as we’ll be showing.

We probably don’t need to describe Homestuck much more. Everyone here who hasn’t read it will doubtless have heard of it. Almost everyone with a Tumblr will have seen fanart, almost anyone at a convention will have seen cosplay. Shoutouts have been made to it in professional works such as the cartoon Steven Universe, and the Avengers fandom latched onto “caw caw motherfuckers” as a catchphrase for Hawkeye to the point that it’s now often forgotten it didn’t originate from there.

FAILURE ARTIST: The Homestuck fandom term “sadstuck” for depressing stories/headcanons somehow leaked into other fandoms. Using second-person is actually cool now and not just for awkward reader fics. Astrology will never be the same again.

CHEL: Now, in the interests of fairness, we will say that when Homestuck is good, it’s amazing, and it’s good often. The characters at least start out appealing and are all immediately distinguishable; even with the typing quirks stripped, it’s easy to tell who said what. The magic system is one of the coolest I’ve ever seen, who doesn’t love classpecting themselves and their faves? Hussie also shows a lot of talent for the complex meta and time travel weirdness, and it is fascinating to watch a timeline thread unfurl. And whatever else one says, it’s a fascinating story that’s captivated millions. I think it is deserving of its title as a modern classic.

However, as the years have passed, we have ended up noticing problems, big and small, and they nagged at us until we decided it had to be dissected. Our intention here isn’t to tear apart something we loathe entirely. It’s to take a complex work and pick out what works from what doesn’t. As I said, when Homestuck is good, it’s very very good. But when it’s bad, we get problems of every scale from various offensive comments to dragging pace to characters ignoring problems and solutions right under their noses to an absolute collapse of every theme and statement the comic stood for before.

The comic is ludicrously long; eight thousand pages, or thereabouts, to be specific. Officially one of the longest works of fiction in the English language, in fact. Naturally, we can’t riff that word by word in any timeframe short of decades, and we can’t include every picture, even if that was permitted under copyright law. Instead, as comics have been done here before, we’ll recap most of the time, and include sections of dialogue and pictures when particularly relevant to a point.

Here are the counts we’ll be using, possibly to be added to later if we find we forgot anything. Most of these counts will only start to climb post-Act 5, but we’ll be keeping track of them from the beginning. Most of them could have been fixed with a decent editor, which is sadly a hazard of webcomics, but still frustrating to read.

TIER: Note: we started this endeavor months before the thought of a "technically not but still we'll count it" set of canon epilogues were a twinkle in the eyes of the fandom. That is, by the way, a whole 'nother can of worms that will be dealt with at a later date if that ever comes around. We're judging Homestuck the Webcomic as a whole, so no after the credits stuff is to be noted for whatever reason.

ALL THE LUCK - Vriska Serket constantly gets a pass or gets favored over every other character. This count is added to every time she pulls some shenanigans with which others wouldn’t get away. ARE YOU TRYING TO BE FUNNY? - Sometimes it’s not entirely clear whether a thing is supposed to be taken seriously or not. We don’t require hand-holding through every joke, but when, for example, we’re supposed to take one instance of violence seriously while a similar case is supposed to be funny, this count goes up. CALL CPA PLEASE - Instances of creepy sexual behaviour (and perhaps particularly gratuitous acts of violence) from the thirteen-year-old cast. Now, mileage may vary on this one. We won’t pretend that thirteen-year-olds are perfect pure angels, especially thirteen-year-olds growing up in what is openly supposed to be a nightmarish dystopia. However, when full pages focus on said behaviour, there comes a point of it being very uncomfortable to read. Clarification: does not refer to cases where the adults do something heinous, this is strictly when the kids do. CLOCKWORK PROBLEMATYKKS - When an offensive joke or comment is made, particularly when not justified by the personality of the character involved, or presented in the narration as being okay. GET ON WITH IT! - When the pace drags. ‘Nuff said. Hazard of the format, but it makes archive bingeing very annoying. GORE GALORE - For unnecessary and/or excessive torture porn which is treated less seriously because it features troll characters, and therefore less “realistic” blood colours. HOW NOT TO WRITE A WEBCOMIC - When the comic does something mentioned in How Not To Write A Novel, and it isn’t justified by the webcomic format. HURRY UP AND DO NOTHING - Characters repeatedly neglect to do something about or even react to terrible happenings, either because they don’t care even if they should or they forget they have the capacity. Not necessarily anything to do with their magical powers, either - characters ignore personal problems that are right under their noses, too. IN HATE WITH MY CREATION - For reasons that are unclear, Hussie chose to create characters he apparently hated writing, or at least ignored in favour of others. Every time he’s clearly disrespecting one of his own characters, this goes up, whether it’s by nerfing their powers or changing their personalities. RELATIONSHIP GOALS? - Romantic relationships in particular get fumbled quite often. Ship Teasing is used with skill, but that skill tends to be lost when the characters actually hook up. Fumbled friendships and family relations can also come under this heading. SEND THEM TO THE SLAMMER - When characters other than Vriska get away with something morally questionable. Covers everything from sexual harassment to not trying to save people from the apocalypse. SOME OF MY BEST FRIENDS - Later on in Homestuck’s run, Hussie tried to make up for the offensive humour and casual -isms counted by Clockwork Problematykks above. How successful he was at this varied. This count goes up whenever an attempt at progressivism is waved in front of the reader but doesn’t stand up under scrutiny. WHAT IS HAPPENING?? - When the already confusing plot kicks it up a notch. Admittedly this is as much a selling point of the comic as it is an issue, but either way, we’re going to keep track. Points will be added to when it gets confusing, and taken away when a previous confusing thing is explained adequately. WHITE SBURB POSTMODERNISM - What is shown about Alternia repeatedly contradicts what we’re told about how different it is from Earth. For example, trolls still use heteronormative terms even after it’s established they reproduce bisexually, and the demonstration of the class structure doesn’t always add up. This count goes up every time that happens. It also goes up every time something happens which strongly implies Hussie was envisioning the human kids as white, despite his later claims that they were always supposed to be “aracial”, and every time their economic statuses don’t add up either.

#homespork #homestuck #review #literary critique #sporking #let's read #reread #homestuck meta

[greyempress-blog]

night calendar / lelouch x c.c.

Disclaimer: I wanted to start this off with my ultimate ship of the series and ship in general, Lelouch x C.C. and how it’s likely they shared a bed via C.C. hogging it all the way till the end and their progression as accomplices, to something far more intrinsic than can be put into words! I really hope you enjoy it. It’s my first Geass fic and I hope to write many more. Title: ‘Night Calendar’. Characters: Lelouch vi Britannia/Lelouch Lamperouge, C.C./C2. Summary: Lelouch and C.C. sleeping over the course of the series and the quiet moments in between. Pairing: Lelouch x C.C. 

The first nap isn’t really a nap, per say. It’s more a strange girl in his bed; kicking him onto the floor. He’d like to say he won, prideful as he is. But he didn’t. 

He wouldn’t dare share his bed with her it wasn’t appropriate and he hardly needed Nunnally to find out somehow. Particularly by the issue at hand, that annoyance. But he gradually accepts the guest room and locks her door. Triumph in small doses is triumph nonetheless.

( He tries to pretend it doesn’t infuriate him when she easily lock-picks it, with a cheshire grin and her odd sunlit eyes slanting in challenge come morning light.)

Lelouch laments his fate with a woman who could scarcely be called one, after all, that’s how they’ll always be. Nothing about the room or her nor him, if he had a say, would change. His room.

The first time he falls into bed with her he can’t quite recall, but it didn’t have significance. She distanced herself in her sleep, the way a cat curls into a snake, anything but a girl. That’s the gist of it isn’t it?

She isn’t a girl. She’s a Witch. She’s an immortal, cold, blank-faced woman with a few choice words he won’t utter that uses his money and his clothes.

Appears where she isn’t told and challenges everything about his perfectly built ideology that leaves him both seething and seeking to prove her wrong. Lelouch of course, moved as far away from her as he could, but it seemed her more than generous strands of green hair laced with his back, getting caught there.

“That hurts boy, “ She drawled then, and it stings like vinegar on his tongue. “As if a woman being shot could really claim that hurts.”

Silence, and he’s satisfied that their rapport has him winning and he hates to admit it, for once.

Until –

“You have a ways to go before you decide what hurts.” And he’s defeated again.

“Be glad, Lelouch. Our Contract is over.”

He’d been thinking she’s beyond cold but cruel, then. She has a capacity to be anything on a whimsy, as if the word suited her nature but there’s something off about her smile when she left the building the Witch used in cold separation on a single bed in his room.

There’s no remorse spouting anger at her lies on the steps;  at her hesitance to reveal the full scale of the Contract and he thinks those things, coward, heartless woman, heartless thing, Witch, Witch, WITCH – but her smile gives a brief pause. 

There’s a momentary flicker of something and it doesn’t mean anything, obviously, but he hasn’t lost to her. He’s right. He’s right and C – that Witch isn’t even human. There’s nothing consistent to tie them together. There’s no reason for him to need her other than a pawn, an item, nothing more. After all isn’t Mao the perfect example of her character?

(As if you cared when you stained your hands, traitorous, traitorous mind.)

Nothing but a manipulator toying with lives, and something in him whispers that he’s different, he’s different and yet he activates the gift she gave him and is greeted with her slowly retreating back and he curses.

“C.C.”

He doesn’t know why he says her name after that odd intermingling of hands, that strange contract where C.C. didn’t seem heartless but desperate, and he dismisses the thought, dismisses anything about such a woman because it’s fruitless and it’s not as if she’s worried he’ll become like Mao.

They enter the helicopter in relative silence; she twirls a strand of hair that always gets tangled in the bed, and has the other hand loose, empty. Something about it strikes him as lonely but he dismisses it, he always does.

He dismisses that C.C. maybe has had hands empty to hold for a long time, not just of people but of anything, and maybe the person who begged for her former partner’s life did only what she knew how to do in helplessness .

They go to his residence late, his, mind you, the lights flickering bright and Sayoko arching a brow at her bloodied apparel, but ever sworn to silence she says nothing.

There is nothing, and yet something, something in C.C. that’s significantly different; like her hesitantly growing smile that bloomed as humane as anyone else’s when he promised her he’d be different.

Like how in the bed her body subtly curls into itself for protection with her hand around a regenerated arm that had the bullets of ‘love’ imprinted on her skin.

Like how he says to her in silence her name perhaps more seriously than he ever has.

“C.C.”

Silence.

“I meant that.”

Silence reigns.

“Did you?”

Soft breaths, peaceful breaths. She’s asleep, and her mouth is almost benignly curved. A loud, intentional sigh of resignation. ‘Impossible woman’, Lelouch thinks but for once he feels no malice, perhaps he’s fated to be at her whims.

He isn’t awake to hear her, eyes wide open the entire one-sided exchange, murmur softly, voice revealing nothing but a quiet resolution that she forgot she had in the depth of her dead heart.

“I did.”

“Lelouch.”

He’s pathetic isn’t he? Prideful as he is, her oddly soft voice holds nothing but a quiet ‘something’ as Lelouch has come to call C.C.’s mannerisms. The blood won’t come off. His first love’s blood won’t come off and he sees pink and pink and pink and grief in her red-glazed eyes and ‘I’m sorry’ will never be enough. 

Lelouch will never be where Euphie is laughing freely of pain.

He’ll be in hell; he killed her after all.

“The blood won’t go away despite you washing. You know that. It’s mine, as well, for not monitoring your Geass better.”

She continues, but it feels like dull noise. Dull noise as his swollen hands are taken in hers and guided to the bed, dull noise as his head hits the pillow, eyes swollen with tears and stifled sobs as not to awaken his sibling who he can barely face. After all he killed their sister. He’s no right to tears.

“You don’t have to bear it by yourself. Didn’t we make a promise?” Her voice is softer than it ought to be, too close and her hands so white, pristine, unblemished as the snow that lay in metaphors.

When his head finds itself against her chest, her chin tucked over his own, Lelouch scoffs through a muffled noise some incoherent crack in his code of how he behaves with her, with – C.C. - . 

How she touches his hair like a child, how oddly, there’s nothing perverse about this he thinks, just something that seems different in her, or was it him?  He’s too tired. He’s too tired. He’s been tired for a long time and her voice breaks the silence, firm and quiet, strong when nothing is strong:

“I will be the one to stay beside you until the very end.”

“You said that before. You’re so strange. You comforting me, it’s..bizarre it’s..” 

He murmurs, grief-stricken and weary; tears clinging to his lashes and her chest is warm, heartbeat singing a consistent, constant thud (was it always that way?) not like how Euphie’s no longer is.

(This time she doesn’t laugh mockingly at him. There’s something disturbing in the softness of eyes he’s so used to not understanding, and he cannot look for long, no, not too long. )

“Sleep, Lelouch.” She murmurs into his hair, tears soaking into her (his) shirt, and for the first time his mind wearily registers the most bizarre thing in the world: that he was falling asleep in not his bed – but theirs; and he has no idea how to feel about that. “Sleep and let me carry the blood until you awake.”

His hands subconsciously held her arms the entire night, the warm skin of her cheek against his brow. It’s warm, not like Euphie’s blood, but like C.C.

When he returns, bitter, vengeful as ever against his Father, the damned Empire, she’s there in the bed, a bed he’s begrudgingly accepted as hers as well. How unlike him, and her smile is as cat-like as ever. A smile not expecting to slip when the lights turn off and they sleep back to back, his voice soft and quiet, wondering something he didn’t want to dwell on.

“…What happened at the Island?”

There’s an intake of breath, something he hasn’t been used to seeing from her, and the Witch, -C.C.- is silent. 

“C.C., what happened on that island when you faced Orange.” 

Did he detect an uneven breath for a millisecond?

“I died.” 

Silence, and somehow this time it hits him in a way it never had before. Her deaths always startled him but they never seemed permanent. But the way she speaks it wasn’t a quick death, nothing merciful about it, nothing that she wants to tell and Lelouch touches her tense shoulder, unaware he had taken in an inhale of his own breathing.

“…was it painful?”

Bitter, quiet chuckles are his response.

“Rather than ask me how painful it was, I deserve a thank-you and an ample supply of pizza tomorrow to celebrate my plan on your retrieval.” Evasive, he thinks, and when was it he began to understand parts of C.C.? No, not just that, when had he wanted to?

“I’m glad.” He says bluntly – enough for her to cant her head just barely from what he can see of the soft outlining of her lime green hair. 

“Glad? You, the most disrespectful man alive, glad? “ She scoffs into the pillow but there’s questioning in her tone. 

A smirk.

“Aren’t we accomplices? I’d be somewhat at a disadvantage if you weren’t orchestrating for my inevitable return, C.C.” He drawls, and her face turns to him, deadpan, quiet, the horror of her own perhaps first-of-its-kind type of death has left her eyes -- good.

“It was boring without you.” 

With that she flings her arm over his face and goes back to sleep.

When was it that he was terrified of losing this woman? Pompous, arrogant, lofty and distant, cold and warm, soft and hard. Protective as a lion yet eyes holding secrets of eras past? Who carried herself in a way that commanded no quarter, nothing but the highest respect? 

Who could match him wit for wit, ploy for ploy? Who perhaps, in all the world, no one understood him like she did? No one would protect him, no one would see him at his root because no one could get past the first brambling patch of roses.

As she plummets from that golden, unnatural sky, he thinks of her wish, her true wish, and it all makes sense. The somewhat lonely eyes at times, the more soft she became around Nunnally, himself, the human emotions slowly unveiled…the closer she became, the nearer he could touch her, the more he saw that wish. 

It was a simple wish, really, painfully boring to some – but not to C.C. Not to him, who knew her arguably more than anyone left alive and perhaps, ever, if he wanted to be arrogant. Oh, and he was.

He thinks no matter what happens he’d like to fulfill it. That wish of a girl resurfacing, longing to smile. Longing to know the taste of the word that started with ‘L’ . 

Damned if he knew anything of it, damned if he even knew if he loved her, but his chest is sick and his stomach in flops as he steadies her form – thankful not to lose her, after all, she can’t leave him, she’s C.C – outside the thought elevator.

She’s C.C. She’s C.C.

Yet as she wakes, her wide, unnaturally frightened eyes on his face, voice higher in pitch, words a static sound he cannot compute, as his heart has stopped surely, Lelouch loses a person he thinks he’d never lose.

She speaks but whoever it was that was her is already gone.

For a long time she does not sleep in their bed,  until confronting his Mother and Father only then does she return. She slides in the sheets, a leg intermingles with his to earn a squawk from him in jest; and a hand seeks his in the dark as they silently make their decision. God has died, and the world must move forward, and Lelouch has made his promises.

But as her eyes meet his, facing him, not back turned, ( not anymore ) he wonders what he will do about hers.

She isn’t used to being a literal if not faux Empress. To him she was far more one than any royal in his damned family aside from Nunnally and Euphie; and as they slumber in the large, too large bed within a world literally in the palm of his hand, he wonders how to make that promise come true. 

He’s made his peace – or so he wants to think. But his mind drifts to her. Perhaps he does love her. But to love her now would be cruel, so he tucks it away, far away, pathetic, and fingers a lock of her hair.

Her stirring eyes, C.C.’s lovely face, quite human, and almost girlish, on his own. The ultimate ploy of all, the Witch herself. A human being perhaps more human than most monsters wearing human faces, and now their time is at an end; yet here she remained, faithfully, singularly, all alone, beside him. 

All had left but her. Even now she guarded him, bore pains and woes. Even now she admonished him, no crown changed her sharp tongue, and only her soft voice and her fingers tweaking his nose has him out of a bitter reverie. 

Yes, bitter, sweet and bitter.

“Don’t.”

 She says lightly, smiling faintly, something she never did at the beginning, but at the end she offers him an assuring, oddly unselfish smile. She was sacrificing her wish for his own grand plan, wasn’t she? 

Stupid witch! Of all the times to pull this. . . !

In fact many times she’d come across as a contradiction – selfish in one breath, horribly so, but at times also unselfish and even kind. Why did it take the end of one’s life to realize such things?

How long had it taken him to stop ignoring that C.C. was the beautiful snow he claimed?

There’s a firmness to her voice as he drifts in thought again, squeezing his hand so tight it stings.

“Don’t, pity me Lelouch. Not you.”

He feels remorse and grief in his gut for the way she doesn’t even scold him, only smiles this utterly sad smile that makes his tongue ash.

She truly was unselfish at tim---

“…You’re going to fulfill my promise.”

Never mind.

Her voice doesn’t crack, and her head doesn’t leave where it suddenly was beneath his chin, his fingers idly playing with her hair. 

“If wishes truly are Geass, then I’ve been astray for centuries. I think a Witch has the right to bet on that Geass as well. “

He looks at her dryly if only to ignore the stab to his heart. What can he possibly offer the one person who stood by him and supported and knew him through everything? Who could never just be a ‘witch’ ever again? Who even as he was going to die the next morning, has a smile on her face and a place in his mind that Nunnally and Suzaku have already left, his resolution made with all but her? Even now she stubbornly needles her way into his mind when everyone else has left it.

Why, he thinks in bitter frustration, is it C.C. that he cannot let go of in his mind? Coward, he thinks in misery, that he cannot fulfill the wish to a woman he never imagined would give him so much. Who had unfolded before his eyes from a thing, to a witch, to a woman who had the softness of words they had no need to say? Not in their own little private world where no one else was privy?

“…I bet that you’ll fulfill your promise. So isn’t it alright for me to gamble as well? On the wish called ‘Geass’. Or should I wander forever? Or should I – “ 

Lelouch isn’t adept at romance, would laugh at anyone calling him anything flirtatious, but his chin rests on her head and he cuts her off quickly with an oddly dry throat: “Yes, I suppose that’d be alright.”

“So no goodbyes?” Her voice is controlled, no tears, nothing, she wasn’t really like anyone else – she was C.C. after all.

Again, a dry, pained swallow – and he wants to believe that he is not lying when he speaks, not to her, anyone but her. The one miracle he so badly wants to make come true. How idealistic, she’d say.

“I don’t have a choice, do I, you witch. So no goodbyes.”

“Lelouch?”

“C.C.?”

“You did well.”

It rings so miserable and yet stinging sweet in his chest he can barely breathe. Maybe all he’d ever wanted, was to stand at her side as an equal, that ever distant woman that time could not control, that the laws of man could not rule. Now he was, and this was the last night in their bed.

And yet she speaks, even now, without resentment?

C.C. rests against his chest free of the ‘suffocating ridiculous royal attire’ and murmurs softly, “You can make miracles happen, only you. So – I’m betting my Geass. On your miracle. Just for me.”

He doesn’t want to sleep. He doesn’t want to sleep. But his eyes are lidding, and C.C. is all that’s left to remain on a dying man’s mind. So he murmurs softly, in their bed, “I suppose I’ll make one for you.”

Of course I would, silly woman. After all this time…

But he falls asleep in a world he’s destroyed, wakes by a chapel to see her stoic face betraying none of her softness the night before, the ‘cold mask’ he thinks in the world hidden and always theirs, and faces his knight’s blade with the world birthing anew to his sister’s screams and riotous cheers.

As his eyes close he imagines green fields, like her hair, yes like her like --

--

C.C. after two years will sleep alone tonight.

If C.C. weeps it’s for no one to know. If C.C. is crushed is for no one to know, if C.C. loved Lelouch Lamperouge or Lelouch vi Britannia is for no one to know but her. 

She visits no corpse, hails no viewing, merely packs her bags and leaves as she requested of him. Hasty goodbyes for a none-too hasty bond.

Perhaps it was too painful, but that too, is for no one to know. Where C.C. goes is for no one to know. But she goes, nonetheless, until the sun passes over the driven cart and moonlight strides over the hay, fingering a single pink crane – betting on the wish that only one man could fulfill, one more time.

As many times as it takes, after all---

---- a promise is a promise, isn’t it?

#code geass #Lelouch x C.C. #lelouch/cc #cluclu #c.c. x lelouch #DRABBLES. #code geass lelouch of the rebellion #resurrection is going to kill me #welp here i go into hell again i've been in hell since it started but rifp #welcome to reblog

[immortalcoelacanth]

Moonjumper x Reader Oneshot: The Stars in Your Eyes

Yes you read the title right! Behold a Moonjumper x Reader fic! It’s gonna be another of my Tumblr exclusive oneshots, and I hope you guys enjoy it!

Also I suck at writing different tenses so I apologize if there’s any mistakes!

Word count: 3749

Summary: Sneaking out of the castle to look at the stars was something you had always done, but this time something had changed, something was different. 

There was a red string poking out of the forest...

The full moon shone down upon you as you stealthily made your way through the garden, not wanting to get caught by the guards who patrolled this area. The heavy, armored footsteps made you freeze, but when they got farther away you relaxed and continued moving, crawling through some bushes.

The clothes you had decided to wear were getting stained with grass and mud, but you paid them no mind. Dirt had never bothered you, a drastic difference from your mother’s constant need for everything to be clean.

You continue crawling forward, occasionally pausing as the guards walk near you once again, but you are never caught. It seems as though the world is encouraging you to go out and explore, live for once.

A smile breaks out on your face as you slide out of the final row of bushes, now free of the oppressive castle you had spent most of your life in. You turn around, eyeing the stone structure with distaste. You knew your parents meant well, but it was so frustrating being forced to remain there.

Excitement humming in your veins, you march towards the forest not too far from your home, the tall grass in the field brushing against your legs. Even if the guards were to spot you now you would not get in any trouble thanks to your disguise.

It was a smart idea, stealing some of the clothes the servants wore to use them for yourself, even if they were not the most comfortable. The ragged cloak also helped, hiding your frame and face from anyone who got too close.

A couple minutes pass and you continue walking forward, the castle behind you slowly growing smaller as you put more distance between it. You glance up to the stars, their luminescence catching your eyes, and you are surprised to see how large the moon looks out here. Had it grown bigger while you were walking? 

You sigh, shaking off the questioning thoughts and instead focus on your original goal. You had come out here to relax and look at the stars, and that is exactly what you are going to do!

No giant moon would distract you from your mission, even if it was strange and abnormal…

However just are you are about to lie down and look up at the stars, a vibrant light catches your attention. You turn around, easily finding the strange, glowing phenomenon that you had noticed.

It looks like it is some sort of red string.

It remains where it is, poking out of the woods as it flutters in the breeze, and you slowly walk towards it.

Once you are close enough you reach out to grab it and watch as it loops around your hand all on its own, no sign of what was causing it to do so. The sight reminds you of the times where your parents would hold hands, and you cannot help but wonder if the string is trying to do the same with you. It then pulls your hand, making you take a step forward. Curious, you look up and stare at the trees in front of you.

It wants you to enter the forest.

Once more the string tugs on your hand, but this time you resist it, uncertain about following it. You had no idea where it wanted to take you or what it even was. This was dangerous and could be life threatening.  

And yet a part of you wants to follow it, despite the risk you would be taking. This had never happened before, it was something new. A break from your monotonous, predictable life.

You notice the string starting to sag, a part of you noting that it seemed disappointed and you take another step forward. Immediately the stand of glowing light perks back up, and continues to pull you towards the forest.

Well, you had made your choice. Now it was time to commit to it.

So you enter the unnamed forest, doing your best to not trip over and roots or rocks as you are guided to your unknown destination. The woods are silent as you walk through them, the animals either asleep or missing. Even the winds are unnaturally calm, but you do not feel scared. There is something peaceful about this silence, something soothing about it.

An uncertain amount of time passes before you are free of the constant trees, the string leading you to some sort of clearing.

Here the moon is even larger, the glowing orb dominating most of the sky, but this is not what catches your attention.

There are red strings everywhere!

Some lay limp against the grass covered ground while others reach off into the distance, but they all seem to originate from the same place, coming out of some sort of object. Your eyes grow wide in surprise as you realize what the object is. It is a hammock of some sort, made out of the same luminous strings.

Just what in the world is a hammock doing all the way out here?!

You walk forward, string still looped around your hand, and notice that the hammock is not empty.

The figure resting in it is unlike anything you have ever seen. Their skin is blue and red markings cover their face. The clothes they wear, formal in appearance, are worn with time and you can see what appears to be manacles on their wrists with chains attached to them.

Then you notice that they are missing their legs!

A gasp escapes you and you back up, certain that whatever it is you are staring at must be some kind of corpse, with how still it was and the lack of legs. However to your complete and utter surprise the figure shifts at the sound of your voice.

They roll over onto their side so they are now facing you, eyes still shut. You feel a familiar tug on your hand and glance down. The string wants you to get closer to this figure, but you have no idea why.  

You take a deep breath in, let it out, and walk forward until you are standing at the edge of the hammock. The string relaxes but does not let go. It then starts coiling around your fingers, slowly wrapping itself around each digit.

Perhaps if you had been paying more attention to it you would have brushed the string off, but your eyes were glued to the figure before you, still sound asleep.

Strange, it looks as though their face is a mask of some sort…

Curiosity controlling your actions, you reach forward and trace the red markings on the figure’s face. The flesh is warm, and your touch makes them twitch slightly.

Suddenly an arm grabs your wrist, making you let out a yelp as you try to pull your hand away. Unfortunately their grip is too strong which leaves you with no way to escape. However, instead of losing an arm, and possibly your life, the figure starts nuzzling their face into your palm, a happy sigh escaping them.

This is, without a doubt, the most adorable thing you have seen in your life!

The sight before you lasts for only a couple more moments before the figure begins to stir, their mismatched red eyes opening and landing on you, widening in surprise.

A loud, startled shout escapes the figure and the hammock beneath them disappears in a puff of red smoke, making them fall to the ground with you falling along with them thanks to the hand still on your wrist. You land atop the figure, face smooshed against their reddish, orange cloak.

“I’m sorry!” You squeak, scampering backwards so you are no longer pinning them. “I’m so sorry!”

“It is alright.” The figure groans softly, sitting up slightly so he can look at you. “You have done no harm, but I would recommend you do not make a habit of surprising others while they rest.”

Well that certainly sounded refined. Both his voice and words remind you of some of the nobles who would visit the castle, however there is no arrogance or pride in his voice.

It was odd to hear something so similar yet so different, and the situation only grew more bizarre as the figure floated up off the ground, positioning himself so he was directly in front of you.

Luckily you cannot see any anger in his strange, glowing eyes, but he does look a bit annoyed.

“Now how did you find me?” He asks, folding his arms as he stares at you with suspicion in his eyes.

“That string brought me here.” You answer, gesturing to the only glowing thread that remained in the clearing, hovering not too far from him. “It pulled me to you.” 

A scandalized noise escapes the figure and he reaches out to tuck the string into his sleeve, a strange red blush appearing on his face.

Wait, blush?! Did that mean he was-

“Please disregard those strings.” He says, the blush on his face fading as he looks at you once again. “They revel in causing mischief and only create trouble.”

Well that did nothing to explain why one had brought you here, but before you can further pursue this topic the figure speaks once again. “Now, I believe introductions are needed then, as I do not know you nor do you know me.”

He then backs up, twirling a bit and striking a pose. “You may call me, Moonjumper!”

The sight is a bit ridiculous, and you cannot help but laugh softly for a couple seconds before responding.

“Hello,” You say with a warm smile on your face, introducing yourself to the now named Moonjumper.

The moment he hears your name you can see his eyes narrow before growing wide. “Ah, the heir to the throne of the Étoile Kingdom.”

You take a step back, surprised that this being knew something like that. “How do you know about that?!”

“I hear and see many things in the horizon.” He replies, floating closer and closing the gap you had made. “I cannot help but wonder what royalty is doing in a place such as this so late at night.”

Instinct has you looking to the ground in shame as you answer. “I just wanted to look at the stars for a little while.”

Actually you had planned to stay out for the entire night before sneaking back to the castle, but Moonjumper did not need to know that.

“That is understandable, the Étoile Kingdom does have a beautiful view of the stars.” He chuckles, and the noise makes your heart beat just a bit faster. “Though now I choose to stay here for other reasons.”

“Other reasons?” You question, mouth suddenly dry as you stare up at the floating figure. “May I know what those are?”

“Ah, there are many beautiful sights that I wish to see.” Was the quiet reply, a faint smirk on his face as he stares at you.

A nervous chuckle escapes you. “Oh, well that’s completely understandable-”

“Out of all of the stars in your kingdom,” Moonjumper suddenly says, reaching out and gently brushing the back of his hand against your cheek. “You shine the brightest.”

There was no denying the bright blush that had appeared on your face, both from his words and the affectionate gesture. Years of training to repress such a reaction are thrown out the window and you knew that if your father saw you now he would be furious.

“Thank you.” You murmur, glancing down to the ground as one hand rises to nervously scratch at your cheek. “But you don’t need to say that-”

“Why would I lie?” He purrs, placing a hand under your chin to make you look up at him. “You are a lovely person, young heir, both inside and out.”

The blush is back at full force and you know you can do nothing to stop it.

Compliments are something you are used to hearing, being the child of royalty will do that, but the sheer sincerity in his words leaves you breathless and makes your heart flutter. For a moment you allow yourself to believe that this might truly happen, that someone might genuinely care about you and not your royal blood, but you quickly push the feelings to the side.

“So you mentioned the horizon!” You practically shout, eager to change the topic. “Do you live there?”

You wince when the smile on Moonjumper’s face disappears, replaced by a frown. He glances off to the side and you can practically feel the sorrow radiating off of him.

“Saying that I am trapped there is a bit more accurate.” He mumbles, eyes filled with some unknown emotion. “A curse, a hex, some magical binding that prevents me from leaving except on special occasions such as tonight.”

Sympathy floods your heart, he was a prisoner just like you were, and you instinctively reach out and hug him. “I’m sorry to hear that Moonjumper.”

A surprised noise escapes him at the gesture, but instead of pushing you away he wraps his arms around you, returning the hug. “Thank you, lovely Moonflower.”

You pull back and send the floating figure a confused look. “Moonflower? Where did that come from?”

“I believe it would be unwise to speak your real name aloud, should your parents find out about this visit.” You nod, immediately understanding what he is talking about.

The heir to the royal throne sneaking out and wearing servant’s clothes? It would be a scandalous affair if anyone ever found out, and you would never be able to leave the castle again.

Besides, Moonflower is a wonderful name.

Especially the lovely part…

You blush and shake the thoughts away, a bit frustrated with how easily flustered you were getting. It was strange since no one had ever made you react this way, and yet every word Moonjumper spoke seemed to make your heart race and your palms sweat.

You have no idea if the sincerity or blatant flirting is to blame for your reactions, or if it is some combination of the two.

“So,” Moonjumper suddenly says, sending you a mischievous smile that did nothing to calm your pounding heart. “Would you still like to view the stars?”

You are a bit taken aback by the seemingly random question, but you nod your head anyways. A moment later the figure before you is gone, but you can feel a pair of arms scooping you up and holding you against some’s chest.

Moonjumper’s chest.

“MOONJUMPER ARE YOU INSANE?!” You cannot help but shriek as he soars up into the air.

Terrified, you bury your face into his neck, trembling slightly in his arms. Your ascent slowly comes to a halt but you refuse to look up. You have no idea how high up you are and you are in no way interested in finding out.

“I won’t let you fall, my Moonflower.” Moonjumper chuckles, and you can easily imagine the soft smile that must have been on his face. “Trust me and look.”

It takes you a moment to work up the courage to lift your face out of the crook of his neck, and a bit longer to open your eyes, but when you do you are more than happy you listened to him.

“Wow,” You breathe, staring at the landscape around you. “It’s beautiful.”

The ground was very far below you, but you did not feel afraid. Thanks to how high up you are you can easily see all of your kingdom, from the castle to the small village nearby, but that is not the most impressive part of this new view.

The stars shine above you, bathing you and Moonjumper in their glowing radiance. You lean back so you can stare up to the sky, resting your head on Moonjumper’s shoulder. “This is amazing, thank you so much!”

“You’re welcome, my lovely Moonflower.”

You spend a couple minutes like this, reclining in Moonjumper’s arms as you looked up at the stars. Unfortunately your back started to cramp up a bit, so you sat up and glance over at the one holding you.

His eyes are closed and a peaceful smile was stretched across his face. A grin forms on your face at the sight, and you cannot help but reach over and start tracing the red marks once again. Though he does not open his eyes, Moonjumper presses his face into your palm, sighing happily like he had before.

He shifts you in his arms so he is no longer cradling you, red strings wrapping around you to keep you in place. It dawns on you that the threads actually came from him, and were most likely magic of some kind, which meant he had led you to him earlier.

However, recalling the embarrassed look you had seen on his face, you know he did not consciously bring you here.  

But the reason why he had brought you here is still unknown, not that you are too concerned with finding out.

Now you are held in front of him, pressed against his chest as you look up into his face. You shudder as a cold breeze rips through you and Moonjumper pulls you even closer.

“Thanks.” You breathe, unconsciously leaning into him. “I can’t believe how amazing the stars look up here.”  

Moonjumper hums softly. “Hm, yes the stars are quite beautiful, but I happen to enjoy looking at your eyes far more, my dear Moonflower.”

Your face feels like it is on fire but at this point you do not care.

Moonjumper descends back into the clearing and puts you down, though he remains close to your side. You sit down on the grass, him immediately joining you, and you decide that now would be the best time to get to know him more. You talk about your life, while Moonjumper discusses what it is like in the horizon, and what he knows about your home. It turns out he had actually been watching the kingdom for nearly ten years, coming down from the horizon once the moon was full so he could look around.

Unfortunately all good things must come to an end, and in almost no time at all you see Moonjumper nervously glance at the sky, fingers knitting together. “The moon falls and dawn approaches. Soon I shall be forced back to the horizon.”

He leans down and softly presses a kiss against your forehead, lingering for just a moment as he speaks. “Thank you for making this night memorable to me, my lovely Moonflower.”

Every part of you screams to not let it end like this, with so much implied but nothing said as he starts to float away. Your hands reach up, grabbing on to his cloak, and you pull him down towards you.

Your lips brush against his, and you swear you can feel him lean into the kiss.

After a moment you let Moonjumper go and the floating figure backs away just a bit, eyes wide with some unknown emotion. Suddenly it dawns on you that your gesture might not have been welcome, and you look down to the ground in shame.

“I’m sorry-” You go to apologize, but your words are cut off when Moonjumper scoops you up into his arms and spins you around, laughing happily.

“You have nothing to apologize for.” He whispers, affectionately nuzzling the side of your head. “My lovely Moonflower.”

You smile and wrap your arms around his neck, leaning forward to smooch him once more. A startled noise escapes you when Moonjumper deepens the kiss just a bit. He then pulls away and laughs, making your heart start racing once again.

Laughter bubbles out of you and you join him, a massive smile on your face as the joyful sounds fill the space around you. Once you both stop and the silence creeps in, Moonjumper speaks again.

“May I have to honor of escorting you home?”

“Of course.” You murmur, burying yourself against his chest as he floats higher up into the air and soars back to the castle.  

In almost no time at all he reaches the stone structure that is your home, the sky above you starting to lighten as dawn slowly grows closer.

Time is running out.

You wish the night never had to end.

You direct Moonjumper to your room. Luckily enough the window is still open, allowing Moonjumper to place you inside. You turn around and stare at the figure floating outside, your heart aching at the mournful expression on his face.  

He leans forward and takes one of your hands, bringing it up to his face and kissing the back of it. “I certainly enjoyed tonight, my lovely Moonflower.”

“As did I.” You breathe, doing your best to push down the tears that were welling up in your eyes.

“May we meet again.” And with that final message he starts backing away, smiling at you one more time.

You sigh sadly as you look out the window, watching as the first rays of sunlight touch the world. Almost immediately Moonjumper’s form starts to flicker, vanishing in moments and leaving no sign that he was ever there.

However you see a faint glimmer of red drifting through the air towards you. You reach out and catch the glowing thread, pulling it to your chest as you look down at it.

The string wraps around your hand one more time before it vanishes, turning into a puff of red smoke that dances away on the wind.

You can feel the tears falling from your eyes. They roll down your face, landing on your hands and the stone windowsill.

You sniffle and wipe your tears off of your cheeks, not wanting to end what had been the best night of your life in sorrow. Instead you focus on remembering all of the good that had happened. The sound of Moonjumper’s laughter, his warm hugs.

The sensations of his lips brushing against yours as you kissed-

You push away from the window, the frown on your face shifting into a determined smile. You quickly change into your proper attire and stride out of your room with a goal in mind.

You will see him again, no matter what! All you need is to know when the next full moon will be.

Perhaps one of the servants might know…

#my story #fanfiction #a hat in time #ahit #moonjumper #reader pov #fluff #Moonjumper is a bit of a flirt #blushing intensifies #kisses ahead #oneshot #tumblr exclusive oneshot