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ghostingssdeadlinee · 9 months

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PLATONIC ALPHABET - SAM WINCHESTER

Warning(s): none i don’t think?? Please tell me if I missed any.

AN: he’s so <33333

Adventures (what kind of crazy shit would you get into together?)

Besides hunting? He probably really enjoys hiking. And if you’d go with him he’d love it. (Don’t worry he’d carry you when get tired)

Bond (what kind of - platonic, obviously - relationship do you have with each other?)

Best friends!! Hunting buds :3

Cuddling (do you ever cuddle? how physically affectionate are you?)

I think so yeah :D! I think he’d let you sit on his lap while he’s researching, ether you also researching or just napping :3

Dance (do you ever dance together? how?)

Rarely, but I think sometimes you’d dance in the middle of the night in the kitchen. Or (probably when deans busy being dead) jamming out too his music in the impala.

Enemies (were you ever enemies? Do you share the same enemies?)

Id imagine you (alike dean) wouldn’t like ruby. Having that precious ‘I told you so’ moment.

But yeah definitely. Like proud Lucifer hater !!

Fight (how often do you fight? how do you resolve conflict?)

I don’t think very often?

And if you would fight it would probably be about demon blood, him risking his life or something silly.

Gain (how have you helped each other improve as people?)

I think you’d be a person sam could actually vent his feelings too, knowing you wouldn’t judge, obviously it would take years for him too fully open up.

But I think he’d see you at least a little more reliable then dean in the way that you’re not blinded by being blood.

Help (how do they ask you for help? how do they help you when you need it?)

He definitely has if hard too ask for help but when he does, expect the biggest puppy dog eyes ever.

And obviously, Sam would do whatever you need, You’re his best friend, how could he not?

Injured/Ill (how would they act if you got hurt or sick?)

Injured? Everything and everyone is dead. He’s getting your revenge for you right after he knows you’ll be okey.

Sick? Be very worried at first, immediately getting you the medicine you need.

Also immediately quarantining you in your room, leaving stuff for you and immediately running out.

“Sammy :((“

“… you’re sick.”

“But :(“

He gives in eventually and cuddles you.

And when you’re done being sick he’s the one being sick.

Jokes (what’s their sense of humor like? how do you joke about things together?)

He probably gives you the :| all the time after seeing something funny.

Like dumb non meaning inside jokes, he pretends too be ‘sooo done with them’ but I love it.

Kisses (do you ever kiss? how? Kisses not on the lips count)

Forehead kisses!!!!!!

(I nearly always says that but omg forehead kisses !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!)

He’s tall so kisses right on top of his head is so real.

Love (how do they show you they care?)

He definitely researches things you mentioned you liked and brings it up in passing convocations.

“Ha, yeah- … remember that restaurant you mentioned like 5 years ago-“

“… how do you even remember that.”

Meeting (how did you meet? how did you become friends?)

Probably hunting or child hood friends :3

Or both!

Nesting (do you co-habitate at all? how?)

I think he’d let you sleep in his bed every once in a while, especially in motels.

Also falling asleep on the couch with him reading <3333333

Oasis (is there a specific place that is “your place”? what is it?)

Maybe there would be a town that John often was near/in that there would be a motel you’d always stay at. Maybe in your hometown? I imagine you’d always have the same room and have scratched your initials where ever you can whenever you were there.

Protection (how protective are they over you?)

Very. Knows you can take care of yourself obviously, but he’d still want too protect you, take a hit for you whenever he can.

Query (how inquisitive are they when it comes to getting to know you?)

He’d let you take your time. Let you trust him before asking anything too personal.

Record (what’s something you’ll never let them live down?)

Kind of guy to have mispronounced a word nearly all his life and only getting too know he’s been saying it wrong when he’s 40.

Support (how would they show their support for you? how far would that support go?)

As long as it doesn’t hurt you, he trust that it’s for the best. So he’d support you in whatever.

Trust (how much do they trust you? how do they show you that?)

He’d actually talk about his emotions. Trust you not too judge him.

Uplift (how do you bring each other up?)

Please hype him up in the most common things.

Like he kills a monster he has already killed a million time and he doesn’t even break a sweat?

“Wooho! Sam!! Go Sammy!!!”

He’d be so happy and all flustered.

He’d try his best too try and do the same for you. (Put empties on try) ((he’d fail so hard))

It’s like when an old person tries too use gen-z slang.

Vacation (do you ever travel together? what’s that like?)

Outside of hunting? Probably no.

Maybe a longer trip too like a tourist trap if you really pleaded for it.

Worry (do they worry about you? how often?)

Definitely, any time you’re on a hunt away for more then an hour. Leaving you ‘check up’ messages every once in a while. And calling dean and Bobby if you haven’t answered.

Xerox (are there any traits or habits of theirs that you’ve picked up by accident?)

Puppy dog eyes, the :| face and big gulps.

Yahoo (what’s an inside joke you share?)

Probably something making fun of Dean, because who doesn’t love making fun of Dean.

Zany (do they have a weird side only you get to see? what’s it like?)

Full on nerd Sammy <333 talking about his silly little intereses and facts <3333

#platonic alphabet #spn #spn fanfic #supernatural #sam winchester spn #sam winchester supernatural #sam winchester fanfiction #sam winchester x you #sam winchester fic #sam winchester #sam winchester x reader

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idontplaytrack · 2 months

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Never Lost

Capri Donahue x Harper!Sibling reader

Warnings: Coarse language, arguing, mentions of death/suicide, mentions of vomiting, car accident close-call

In which, you and your sister Darby’s sworn enemy, Capri have been dating in secret. But one day, Darby catches the two of you and she feels very strongly about it.

It was Friday afternoon, and school was over for the week. You waited in the courtyard for Capri, so the two of you could head home together. You were just hoping you could get away from here before your sister, Darby sees you. Or worse, asks you where you were headed. Thankfully, Capri shows up soon enough and you ran off to her car with her.

“Hi, babe.” She flashes you a smile, batting her eyelashes in her usual fashion.

“Hi, you.” You mirrored her smile, admittedly still a nervous from earlier.

“Would you relax? We’re away from the school right now and I don’t think your sister would be at the mall on a Friday afternoon. Isn’t she usually working with her boyfriend with the dead people?”

“The deados. Yeah.” You corrected.

“Same difference.” She shrugged.

As she drives, her hand continues to grip onto your thigh. You were used to this form of affection, but sometimes, it leads to something more. So you were watching her closely. “We’re not doing that in the car.”

“Why? It’s not like we haven’t done it before in the car.”

That tone. It made you roll your eyes in annoyance but you secretly loved it, especially when things got heated and handsy with her.

“Watch the road, Capri.” You ignored her statement. “You dying once was enough for me. I can’t take that shit again.”

“I woke up.” She hums, shrugging in response. Her hand expertly moves to give you a teasing squeeze on the ass. You tutted, “Stop it.”

“Should we just take this to my house?”

“No.”

“Oh, okay.” You just knew that she’d be biting her lower lip, “Feeling a little feisty today, aren’t you?”

“Can we just go to the mall and get some froyo first, like you promised?” You asked quickly.

“Ah.” She chuckles, “So now, you want me.”

“Please?” You glanced at her, hopefully.

“Mm, okay.”

She doesn’t say anything else about that but you two ended up in the parking structure of the nearby mall. “Okay, we’re here let’s go, baby.” She gets out from the driver’s seat and opened your door for you. Reflexively, Capri slides her hand into your back pocket while you two walked, and you on the other hand snaked an arm around her waist.

“Oh, my God- Capri, it’s Alex. Alex, and- Darby.”

“Hey, y/n!” Alex waved at you happily. Which, caught the attention of your sister who whipped her head and saw you, right as you let go of your hold on Capri.

“Can’t run away now, can I?” You chuckled nervously.

“Yes, we can.” Capri leaned closer to whisper to you, “Just pretend you didn’t see them and walk away, come on.”

“My legs aren’t moving, Capri.” You spoke through gritted teeth.

“What are you two doing here?” Darby asked, all smiley. Why was she not mad? “Y/N, you said you had a date-” Slowly, she was hit with the realisation that you had a date- with Capri Donahue, the school’s queen bee and mean girl. Someone everyone (well, nearly everyone), called a bitch. Someone most people feared.

“She’s your date?” Darby’s tone instantly changed to a harsh one of disbelief, “I can’t believe this. She’s put me through hell to help her and-”

“They look happy together.” Alex remarked, “Let’s just leave them alone.”

“Fine, whatever.” Darby huffs.

————

When you returned home that evening, the air in the house was tense. Your Dad greeted you, worried. “I’m- I’m fine.”

“I know you’re not.” He says.

“Then why’d you ask?”

He shrugs, asking you to sit down. “Did Darby tell you?”

“That you were on a date with the school’s biggest bully? Yeah, that was the one thing she was going on and on about since she got home two hours ago.”

“Dad, she’s not- she’s not like that. She really likes me. She loves me, Dad. And I love her too.” You looked at him tearfully.

“Hey, hey.” He hushed, “I’m not scolding you, sweetheart. That’s a good thing, and I’m happy for you that you’re in a relationship with someone who cares about you and adores you. You deserve all the great things in the world. So does Darby, but it wasn’t right of her to get mad at you.”

“I cannot believe you actually willingly kiss her with that mouth after you witness what she put me through. She humiliated me, she was a bully then expected me to help her move on when she died.” Darby busted out from her room and went off on a tangent about how unbelievable your relationship with Capri was.

“It’s all about how you feel, isn’t it?” You snapped, “So you see dead people- you help them. Capri died- she needed help and you were the one person we all knew could help her. She needed it. It’s not her fault that the doctors revived her- I know you’d be glad to see ‘a bitch like her’ die, but it’s all an act! You of all people should know that since the two of you were attached to the hip and always excluded me back then! Do you know how I felt having to witness someone I loved so much get electrocuted, went up around the gates of the other world and came back? I thought I would lose her for good, lose my chance to let her know how I felt. So I’m sorry you two don’t get along, but maybe try to see that she isn’t who people make it out to be. How you make her out to be. I’m not lose what I fought so hard for.”

You stormed off to your room and packed an overnight bag. Then, you walked back outside to tell your Dad that you were spending the night at Capri’s- maybe the weekend.

“y/n, wait.”

“I can’t.” You sniffled.

“I can drive you, honey.” Your Dad offers, “I don’t want you to drive when you’re upset like this.”

You refused his offer and left anyway, Darby was still running after you. “Enough, Darby. I hear you loud and clear. You don’t have to explain yourself to me.” With that, you went on your way back to Capri’s. Your head was beginning to feel heavy after all the crying you’d already done today, but you pushed that feeling aside and continued your walk. She didn’t live far from yours, so you figured it wouldn’t be too bad of a walk. “y/n, please. I’m sorry.” That was the last thing you heard before you turned the corner and walked faster. Eventually, she couldn’t catch up to you- she wasn’t as in shape as you were.

As you were a couple streets away from Capri’s you saw bright headlights rushing towards you, a car was swerving out of control and your feet were rooted to the ground out of sheer terror.

“Oh, my God, y/n. Watch out!” You hear Darby far behind you as you were bracing for the impact- that could quite possibly kill you. Your eyes screwed shut as you hear it get closer and closer to you- all this went down in no more than a few seconds. But it never happens. You opened your eyes and the cars stopped barely a feet away from you, but turned away from your direction. Capri had her hands out, a terrified look on her face. You hear someone running up to you from behind. “Both of you, get away from there. Now.” Capri demanded, “I can’t hold it any longer. Move out of the way, now!”

Darby grabs your arm and led you across the street where Capri was. Quickly, Capri puts her hands down and the car started moving again, zooming straight ahead. “Don’t drink and drive, bitch!” Capri yelled.

“Oh, my God.” You kept mumbling over and over, crumbling in Capri’s arms when what happened finally hit you.

“You’re okay, baby. You’re okay. I’ve got you.” Capri hugged you tightly, stroking your hair and pressing a kiss on the top of your head.

“What- what was that?” Darby asks.

“That’s not important, is it?” Capri sighs softly.

“How’d you do that?”

“Not now, Darby,” Capri broke away from the embrace slowly, “Are you hurt, babe?”

You sniffled, shaking your head, “No, I just- you saved me. Oh, God, I’m gonna puke.” And you did, leaning over a bush, Capri rubs your back. “Okay, let’s get you into bed.” Capri has her arm wrapped around you on the remainder of the walk to her place. Darby was following closely behind you and Capri, holding onto your backpack.

————

“So, you gonna tell me what that telekinesis shit was about?” Darby asks, pacing around the living room.

“That ‘shit’ saved your sister. My girlfriend. I never lost my powers.” Capri says.

“What do you mean?”

“What I said.” She answered, “Even after the doctors revived me, I never lost my powers. I can still move or stop things just by thinking it and moving my fingers, my hands…”

“Wow.”

“What? You gonna tell on me and make me the freak of the school now?”

“No, I think. It’s pretty damn cool. And thank you for saving her life.”

“I can’t have you go through what she did with me. I saw it all. She nearly killed herself because she couldn’t take losing me. I can’t- I just don’t want that to happen to anyone.”

“You saw-”

“Maybe that’s why I couldn’t let go and just pass on.” Capri shrugs. “I know I need to change but it’s gonna be a lot of work. Me being a bitch, it’s to protect myself. But then I didn’t need to anymore, but I was still stuck in my ways. You can hate me all you want, but just- don’t upset y/n over it. I love her, and that’s all you need to know.”

“What you did tonight, that’s enough for me to not hate you anymore.” Darby admits.

“That easy? Wow, Harper.” Capri joked and they laughed.

“That was not easy.” Darby says, “Thank you.”

“I hear you, Harper.” Capri smirked, “I might even ask her to marry me.”

“What?” Darby gasps, “Really?”

“Actually, yeah.” Capri nodded, her arms folded. “One day.”

“How long have you two been together anyway?”

“We’re coming up to a year.”

“Holy shit.” Darby chuckles, “Really?”

“Yeah.” Capri said back, “Look, I think honestly, we should just call a truce. We’re graduating soon with college starting in the fall. It seems stupid to carry on this childish high school ‘beef’- whatever it is.”

“Not necessary. I’m not even mad at you, and now not her, obviously. I just couldn’t comprehend that you would actually treat her well. And to hear that you guys have been together for a year, what you did tonight. I know all I need to now. We’re okay. Though one day I’m gonna get back at you for the frog.”

“Okay, fair enough.” Capri stood up.

“I’m gonna get going.”

“Okay, good night, Harper.” Capri smiled slightly.

“G’night.”

“Be careful.” Capri reminded.

"One last question-"

"Shoot." Capri nods.

"Does y/n know about the telekinesis?"

"Yeah, she does."

"Cool. Night, Capri. See you around."

#auli’i cravalho #riele downs #darby and the dead #capri donahue #alternative universe #x reader #female reader #reader insert #wlw fanfic #lgbtqia

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strawwritesfic · 5 months

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Enma Kozato x Female!Vongola!Reader: Coda

Summary: Can we try again?

Rating/Warnings: T (post-Inheritance Ceremony arc; Friends to Lovers; Enemies to Lovers; Love Confessions; Face Slapping; Slapping; Delivery Person!Reader; Adelheid & Enma; Adelheid/Julie)

Tag List: @imaginesfire

Notes: I've been in a Reborn mood lately, reviving some old OCs of mine with a friend via email. I'm even rereading what little of the official English translation manga there is. So I thought I'd brush off some of my old one shots for the series and post them, especially since I've had such kind feedback on the ones I've got on my Tumblr.

This was written back when I was in college, so probably circa 2011/2012. I did polish it up for this repost! Although there's really no helping the abrupt ending. I suppose I could have tacked something on, but the style would be so obviously different that it would really only make the original ending seem even more painful.

The reader character is based on (and originally written as) an OC in a roleplay group that I was in on DeviantArt at the time. I no longer recall the username, but credit where credit is due, so much as I can give it. The character's name was LaRae Souma.

Coda

Enma’s heart had never beat so wildly in his chest. Ba-thump, ba-thump, ba-thump. In the silence of the growing evening surrounding him, the noise felt abnormally loud. He lifted a trembling hand to his chest and pressed it against his rib cage.

“Why are you doing this?” he mumbled.

His heart, of course, gave no answer. Or maybe it did. Maybe its attempts to tear itself free from his insides were its way of telling him how downright crazy this entire plan was. Whatever the reason, Enma really wished his traitorous organ would stop. This whole situation was hard enough without adrenaline rushing through his veins.

Trying to calm down was a vain effort. Enma knew that. He’d been trying to do whatever that would take since school got out hours ago. How many girls had passed by, giggling because of how weird he looked standing at the gate? How many bullies had come by to exact their “standing” tax?

Maybe that was why his heart was still going crazy. Maybe he was finally running out of blood, and this was its last, desperate attempt to get what was left to the rest of his body before it gave out. Enma supposed that wouldn’t be too bad, really. At least if he was dead he wouldn’t be picked on anymore. He wouldn’t fail any more tests, either. And, for the love of God, he would not have to do what he was planning to do next.

The bag at his side buzzed. His head turned toward it. He blinked before slowly plucking his cell phone from the bag's pocket. Who would be calling him now? It was nearly dark, and the Vongola had no reason to contact him.

“Hello?” he said.

“Enma. Are you all right? It’s late.”

Oh. It was only Adelheid, then. He probably should have known, but Aoba had stolen his phone and changed all the contacts to pictures of himself flipping the camera off, so now Enma had no way to tell who anyone calling him actually was.

“She hasn’t been by.” He stared down the street again. Still no shadows appeared to be growing against the bright red sky. “Maybe she’s not coming.”

“It’s nearly dark. I would say she’s not.”

“She could be working overtime.”

“Enma, just come home. We’ll order more food, and you can talk to her then.”

“I don’t want to say it front of Julie.”

“He’s not going to say anything. If he does, I’ll hit him.”

"I'll wait a little longer.”

“Okay.” This time, her voice sounded a little warmer. “Call me when you’re on your way home.”

“Yeah. Bye.”

“Goodbye.”

He ended the conversation with a simple push of a button. Why hadn’t he taken the out Adelheid offered him? This was her idea to begin with, and Enma was seriously beginning to doubt her understanding of the matter. Her relationship wasn’t really comparable to his. All Julie had to do was grope her every once in a while.

Oh, God, was he going to have to grab your breasts? Did you even have those? It had been so long since he'd seen you that he didn’t remember. And Adelheid usually still slapped Julie when he did that. Enma didn’t really feel like being slapped.

Was this what hyperventilating felt like? He had never done it before, so he didn’t know.

A rapid tapping came from down the vacant street. Enma looked up. Running down the shadowed walk was a figure moving at a quick pace. He stood straighter. Was it you? It had to be. His hands had started to sweat again. This did not make him feel any less like an idiot. He wiped them on his pants. That only made it worse; now he had wet patches on his legs.

The figure continued to draw nearer. The golden pool of light surrounding him was soon the one they stepped into, bringing their features were placed in high relief. [Color] hair, [color] eyes, waitress uniform. Yes, that was definitely [F Name] [L Name]. It didn’t take the painful lurch in his heart to tell him that much.

The moment of recognition must have been shared because you froze mid-step, one leg stuck awkwardly in the air. Enma reached up to ruffle the back of his head. Now he was completely lost. What was he supposed to do? You were just staring at him like he was a particularly disgusting bug that had fallen directly in your path.

Then your expression hardened. Your normally warm eyes he grown so accustomed to turned more brittle as you smacked your heel back down against the pavement. For a split second, he thought you were going to say something. Instead, you started moving again, your movements now choppy and stiff.

“[Name],” he said as you passed.

You didn’t even spare him a second glance.

“[Name]!”

You did not even so much as twitch in his direction.

Enma sighed. Now what was he supposed to do? Adelheid hadn’t described her plan past his finally making contact with you. Still, he was not the same boy you had known a year ago. Steeling himself, he moved off the wall and into step beside you. It was only be the grace of God that he didn’t fall flat on his face doing so.

"[Name].”

"What?” He had never heard you speak with that much venom in your voice before, at least not directed at him. He gulped. Maybe this was a dumb idea.

"I need to talk to you.”

“I’m in the middle of a delivery.”

“I know. It's for me.”

Thankfully, this was enough to get your attention. Once again, you stopped completely, though at least this time you remembered to put you foot down. Your mouth fell open in an “o.” Then you narrowed your eyes.

“What do you mean, it’s for you?” you asked.

“I ordered it. Can I have it, please?”

“No! I’m not giving you anything!”

“I’m going to pay for it.”

You continued to watch him for a few more seconds, then tossed the container at his head. Enma flailed. The box knocked straight into his temple before falling open on the ground.

“Fine, then!" you snapped. "Eat it! See if I care!”

“Thank you,” Enma murmured.

He bent down to retrieve the contents of whatever food he had asked for. He was so nervous that he didn’t remember, nor did he think he’d actually be able to stomach it if he tried. If he remembered correctly, most girls didn’t think it was cool when boys threw up their food. Once he had the scattered contents all gathered, he rummaged in his pocket until he found the wad of cash he had stuffed in it that morning–more than enough for both his food and a decent tip for you.

“Your money." He held it out to you.

You said nothing as you snatched the cash out of his hand. And then you stood there. And continued standing there. Apparently you were intending to watch him eat the food.

Groaning inwardly, Enma picked up the chopsticks and dug in without looking at what he was digging into. It was probably good, but he didn’t get to taste much before he started to choke. Seemingly satisfied with this development, you hopped on the wall and crossed your legs, the better to see him.

“Why’d you order from there anyway? Thought I didn’t work there anymore?” you asked.

“N-No,” Enma stammered. He was still coughing up bits of rice. “I needed to talk to you.”

“So you ordered food from my workplace?”

“It was the only way I could talk to you. You were avoiding me.”

“Because I didn’t want to talk to you.”

“Right.”

Enma gazed forlornly at his eating utensils. Why had he done this? Of course you didn’t want to talk to him. After what he did…The look of betrayal on your face as you stood there with the rest of your family, the way your eyes seemed to grow dim as you watched him mutilate your friends…His gut clenched every time he thought of it. Who was he kidding with this? You weren't going to want to hear him out. You didn’t even want to be his friend anymore.

He took a deep breath and looked up toward you. It looked like he was still Loser Enma after all. What he realized, however, was that you were no longer looking away. Instead you had the full force of your glare on him. He flinched.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” you asked.

There could be a million things he hadn’t told you that you were asking about, each a worse secret than the one before. But Enma thought he had a pretty good idea what you were talking about.

“I didn’t want you to get hurt,” he said.

“And why would I get hurt?”

He licked his lips. “My family…what we were doing…”

“Yeah, it was pretty stupid,” you snarled. “And thank you so much for showing such faith in me.”

“I didn’t want you to tell Tsuna. It was important. What if you said something and they found out?

You snapped straight up. Enma stumbled backward, managing to stay on his feet but spill what was left of his meal. This did nothing to stop you. In one easy movement, you jumped off the ledge, landed on your feet, and marched up to him. For a moment, all you did was look into his eyes. Then you launched yourself forward and started trying to smack every bit of him you could reach.

“Are you kidding me?" You all but shrieked. "I thought you trusted me! I thought I was your friend!”

“Ouch. [Name]. Stop."

Your punches, if anything, merely increased in number. Enma groaned. What would Aoba and Julie say if they saw him now? Probably something along the lines of “You’re totally whipped!” Without thinking, he grabbed your wrists. You sucked in a breath. He supposed he had surprised you. The him of a year ago wouldn’t have tried to defend himself at all. One split second later, however, and you were back on the offense.

“You.” You tugged. “Are.” You tugged harder still. “Such a jerk, Enma Kozato!” You arched backward as far as you could. Still he did not let you go.

“I know," he said. "I’m sorry.”

“Sorry isn’t good enough! I don’t care what you have to say to me. Just go away!”

Enma took a deep breath. Now was good as ever. He didn’t think you were going to let him stick around much longer anyway. “I think I love you.”

The anger drained slowly from your face. Feeling that it might be safe to let you go, Enma released your wrists at last. He stuffed his now-free hands into his pockets and stared at his feet. The silence stretched on for several more minutes, and then there was a sudden whoosh and the sound of flesh meeting flesh.

Enma’s eyes went wide. The sound of the slap echoed in the empty road.

“That’s for avoiding me for a year!” When he looked up, you were rubbing at your wrist and scowling. “Did you think I was going to yell at you?”

“Well, you’re doing a good job of it now,” he said as he pressed his palm against his stinging cheek.

“Because, Enma, you are an idiot.” You scowled at him again, then whirled on your heel and marched over to your delivery box. Without looking at him, you continued, but he noticed your voice was quavering a bit when you spoke: “If you’re just going to say empty words, then you can leave me alone. For good this time.”

“They weren't empty.” he mumbled at the ground. Enma thought that maybe he heard you pause before going on your way. “I won’t bother you anymore.”

Before you could answer–if you were going to answer, which he didn’t believe could be true at all–he started shuffling away. He didn’t get far before he managed to trip and crash face-first into the sidewalk. A sickening crunch sound coming from his nose told Enma that he had just seriously screwed up. Perhaps it would be best if he just stayed there in the dirt until you left. He didn’t want the last thing you saw of him to be the blood spilling profusely from his face.

“Enma? Are you okay?”

Oh, crud, you were standing right above him. He craned his neck so he could see, trying to make sure you couldn’t get a look at the newest disfigurement on his face. You knelt down next to him and then dragged him to his feet.

“You’re bleeding.”

“Yeah. Don’t worry about it.”

You frowned. “No, I will worry about it. Sit down.”

You pushed down on his shoulder and Enma obeyed without thinking. What were you doing? Why were you still talking to him? Hadn’t you already left, glad to have him out of your life? While he was pondering all of this, you were digging around in your own bag. A few moments later, you pulled out a first aid kit.

Enma leaned back. “You don’t have t–”

“Yes, I do.”

Enma fell silent as you began to work on him. It almost felt like old times, except for the part where the girl he was in love with hated him. He could probably do without that. Well, that and the broken nose.

“Hold still. I’m going to set it. It’ll hurt.”

He braced himself. Sure enough, you pressed your fingers onto both side of his nose and pushed. There was a loud pop and pain streamed into his face. Enma lifted his hand to feel his nose.

“Why did you…?”

“Did you mean it when you said you loved me?” you asked.

“Y-yes.” Did you find him terribly stupid? Were you going to laugh at him?

You turned, face hidden as you placed your kit back in your bag. “Then why didn’t you talk to me for so long?”

“I was afraid you hated me. I didn’t want that.”

“I didn’t. I just wanted to hear from you. When I called and you didn’t answer…” You trailed off. He could see your eyes again. They were filling with tears. “I thought we were friends.”

“You’re my best friend, [Nickname].”

"It doesn’t feel like it.”

Enma stared at you. You looked away and dabbed at your eyes with your sleeve. “I’m sorry.”

You didn’t answer.

His eyes darted about the street. What he was about to do was risky, but maybe it would work out? Maybe this time he could actually do it. Maybe this time he wouldn’t be a loser. “[Name].”

You looked back. He shifted his bag so it was behind him, then opened his arms. You gawked at him, and he lifted them slightly. For a few more seconds, you did not move. Another flurry of anxiety rushed through him. Was he being dumb? Should he put his arms down? Were you just going to hit him again?

You blinked back another set of tears. Then you leaped forward and threw yourself into his arms. Enma closed them around you, shut his eyes, and buried his face into your soft hair.

“I love you, [Name]. Can I try again?”

“Only if you promise,” you sniffed, “to never lie to me again.”

Enma smiled. “I promise.”

In return, you wrapped your arms around him. “I love you, too, Enma.”

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ninja-muse · 1 year

Photo

Another reading month that wasn’t my strongest ever, numbers-wise. My excuses this month?

Weather and latitude, since I get a good bit of my reading in while waiting for or travelling on public transit and it’s really difficult to do that when it’s dark, raining, or the bus is full of people because—did I mention the rain?

Me going “to heck with reading goals” mid-month and signing out 800 pages of history which I knew was going to take me weeks.

But eh, whatever. It’s been a very enjoyable reading month apart from that! I finally read my sixth/last Austen novel and I think it might be my favourite now? I absolutely see why booklr had a collected meltdown over the Netflix movie. No way could that set-up do the story justice. And I got my hands on A Restless Truth at last, and rediscovered my love of Alan Smale, and read my last of the Oseman novels also.

Watch for The Great Believers near the top of my December wrap-up, by the way. I’m nearly done and it’s good.

Persuasion - Jane Austen Anne Eliot dutifully turned down Frederick Wentworth but eight years later, he’s back in town—and courting a neighbour. - warning: misogynist society, agism, some fatphobia Hot Moon - Alan Smale Vivian Carter just wants her quiet Apollo mission. Unfortunately, the Soviets attack almost as soon as she hits orbit, and it goes downhill from there. - Chinese-American, Black, and Latino secondary characters - warning: blood, battle injuries Now You See Us - Balli Kaur Jaswal Three Filipina maids in Singapore find their daily injustices brought to the fore when a fourth maid is falsely accused of murder. Out in March. - Asian cast, 🏳️‍🌈 POV character, minor 🏳️‍🌈 character, Indo-Singaporean author - warning: abuse, xenophobia, homophobia, transphobia A Restless Truth - Freya Marske Maud has until her boat docks to catch a killer and retrieve an artifact, but she’ll need a team and a whole lot of creativity. - 🏳️‍🌈 protagonists, 🏳️‍🌈 secondary characters, Black secondary character, 🏳️‍🌈 author

Solitaire - Alice Oseman Tori’s life is boring and pointless and she doesn’t get why her friends care—or why everyone think Solitaire’s pranks are funny, not dangerous. - 🏳️‍🌈 secondary character, 🏳️‍🌈 author - warning: accurate depiction of depression; suicidal thoughts, homophobic characters

Be the Serpent - Seanan McGuire Toby’s happily married and due for a break. Unfortunately, an old friend might just be the worst enemy she’s ever faced. - 🏳️‍🌈 secondary characters, 🏳️‍🌈 author - warning: blood, violence, death of a child

The Collectors - Philip Pullman with Tom Duxbury (Illustrator) Two art collectors discuss some recent acquisitions with otherworldly provenance.

She-Hulk, Vol. 1 - Rainbow Rowell Jen Walters is rebuilding her life again when an old friend mysteriously returns—from the dead?

Currently reading:

Beneath Another Sky - Norman Davies A world tour of countries subsumed by the colonial West and the ways they’re rebuilding after. - warning: colonial mindsets

The Great Believers - Rebecca Makkai Yale is trying for a massive bequest to his gallery while navigating a relationship and watching his friends die of AIDS. Thirty years later, Fiona is searching for her daughter and reckoning with how Yale’s friend-group has affected her life. - largely 🏳️‍🌈 cast, Jewish protagonist, Jewish secondary character, Black secondary character - warning: deaths from AIDS, period-typical homophobia, including apathy and hate crimes

The Penguin Complete Sherlock Holmes - Arthur Conan Doyle Victorian detective stories - major disabled character  - warning: colonialism, racism 

Stats 

Monthly total: 8  Yearly total: 136 + 1  Queer books: 4  Authors of colour: 1  Books by women: 6  Canadian authors: 0  Off the TBR shelves: 1  DNFs: 0

January February March April May June July August September October

#reading wrap-ups #read in 2022 #rec lists #books #booklr #bookblr #book covers #book photography #my photos

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chargetheintruder · 2 months

Text

Something I need to get done.

It's occurred to me that the computer virus that took out my last computer, the week of January 11-12, might not be a random occurrence. Meaning it's been on my mind that maybe Google and/or Comcast let that virus through to my machine specifically, on purpose. And that even if those corporations didn't, so much, allow that to happen, still, there's people out there who likely want me gone.

Not just quiet, but dead. I wasn't able to get online and pay bills and take care of my needs for 2 months. I ran out of toilet paper (and backup plans FOR my backup plans on that) multiple times. I starved--living on vending machine "food" and mostly just eating the barest minimum needed to prevent organ failure (about 1200 calories a day). My point is that I made it, but just barely.

I have to assume, moving forward, that I have enemies that (for whatever reason) want a nobody like me dead.

And if I had to guess, some of this has to do with my run-in with a local guy who was, at the time, acting as an undercover cop, watching (and blending in with) the homeless population in town where I live. For whatever head-fucked reason, this buzzcut weirdo got it in his head to call me a Nazi just because I wouldn't listen to his story while he had his buddy crowding me at my back.

And for real, as if the threat to my immediate safety weren't clear enough, okay, the truth is, I don't smoke, don't drink alcohol, and don't believe in (the long-term legality of) weed. Point is I didn't have anything he wanted and I merely told him so, but nah, Mr. Random Ass Buzzcut had to go off and make threats I guess. And since he couldn't get cleared to shoot me right away . . . ?

I'm guessing this person looked me up online, saw some of the things I had to say about the Cop City mess (not supporting it) and about drones and surveillance generally (ditto, not supporting that either).

And so the Rented Bastard got cleared to sneak a virus into my computer, possibly through the cable/coaxial rooms in my building.

What I do in fact know is that the timing of all of this couldn't have been worse, with the virus's hitting during the one cold snap we had this winter, and that this thing was specifically about bricking my Chromebook. A cheap shot, against a cheap computer, going after a shut-in he couldn't reach any other way. And this nearly killed me.

What I'm saying is: make plans for the worst. Plan for disasters to strike, because on the local level you and I both might be overrun with alt-right psychos, and no, not in your whole Zip Code, but on a neighborhood level. Make plans to have a backup phone or internet device just in case. Assume that anything you do to try to save society, WILL have local consequences. Assume the local cops will turn on you. Trust NO ONE with a Buzzcut haircut. Also, don't trust your own local mailbox--if you have to send anything in snail mail, in the postal service, actually send it FROM a Postal Box at least some distance from where you live. Some addresses in some neighborhoods have a habit, apparently, of making sure mail disappears and does not get sent out, whether it's personal letters or bill payments.

Because I've seen the difference in the Media since I've come back. People, some people at least, are hellbent on returning to tyranny and ruin. And even the people who say they don't support Trump, okay? They're also leaning into AI and drones and augmented reality in ways that will support the next bastard. No really, nine days before the Wright Brothers flew at Kitty Hawk . . .at least one newspaper ran an article saying, in effect, that "man will fly in 1-10 million years."

That's how much clue the powers that be, in the Media, want you to have. They want you to be stupid and quiet. They DON'T want you to revolt against AI and drones and surveillance tech. They don't want you to think that pieces of Cop City--the AI profiling, and the augmented reality gear--could still proceed even without the obvious paramilitary training grounds for rednecks and traitors with badges.

And they don't ever want you to make plans that involve your surviving for extended periods of time without the internet. Think. These people--police, Media types, corrupt politicians--want you on your smartphone leaving your breadcrumb trails of metadata and hard data here, there and everywhere. They want you to tell them where you live and what the layout of your abode is like. They want you to make it easy for them, because most of their muscle is selected for ideology, not competence. Anymore Police are selected for their politics and their lack of impulse control--nobody expects them to have a brain or to be allowed to use it.

I would make plans to survive without internet, but I am in too bad a way, in terms of my health. Odds are I won't be able to not be a shut-in anytime soon. So don't do what I'm doing. Don't be the canary in the coal mine--they're the first to die when it goes bad. Be the people who know to get out on the first warning. Make plans that let you keep food, toiletries, shelter and utilities going without your first or second internet devices working. Start from that: not being an internet-dependent shut-in like I am, from my bad health.

Then from there, make three plans to keep this struggle as ingrained as possible. These are more divisive and assume worst-case scenarios, I'm telling you this now.

1-- Learn how to keep and use a sidearm, and get one. Yes, it's necessary, the bad guys WILL have guns, the barest minimum you can do is make plans to shoot back when they show up at your door.

1b-- and having done that, make a short and specific kill list. Keep this to yourself and make sure it dies with you. What I can say about this is: don't think individuals, think lineages. Think family trees, made of cancer, that need to be ripped out root, stem and branch to keep society safe long-term. It's not enough to be rid of Osama bin Laden, for example, when other Bin Ladens live. There's others for whom this applies, and much more so.

2-- Don't become ignorant of that which threatens you. To be clearer, learn about AI, learn about drones, learn how surveillance technology works. Know your enemies, and know their weapons better than they do themselves. Know what the weaknesses are, know how to drop a drone with any improvised tool you can lay hand on. And understand: one weakness that will be a thing for a while is the lithium-ion battery, and/or the lithium-sulfur, or solid-state batteries this technology will need to function. Understand that ANY bricked technology with these batteries on board is a potential weapon itself. Study the chemistry involved and learn how to use it.

3-- Make plans to have your brain, your mind, your thoughts, your metadata and hard data, get destroyed on your death. No, I'm not suggesting a suicide plan where you blow your brains out. What I'm saying is: once you are dead, people can slander you any way they want to, and nobody will defend you. No really, why do you think the police are so into virtual reality? They want to snag the data of the recently dead and abuse it for THEIR agenda. At minimum they want to have the names and faces of the people they've shot dead, saying THEIR words and promoting THEIR garbage.

At worst? Post-singularity, post transhumanist technology, it might be possible to FORCE digital immortality on people, just to FORCE them to "agree with" things they'd never support in life. It could be as dumb and brain-dead as what the police would do, or it could be as insidious as bringing someone "mostly" back, meaning the "resurrection" is 95 to 98 percent accurate, enough to break your heart . . . but on ONE topic they're corrupt and coerced into supporting that which they'd never do in their original, true life.

No really, absent any constitutional protections of one's data and/or thought process post-death, you have to assume the conservative, and/or nationalist elements are GOING to look for ways to exploit you after you've died. It would be better to just abandon the whole idea of digital immortality altogether--just make plans to have your brain destroyed, and your internet traces wiped out, so that the enemies of society don't get to make a muppet mockery out of you.

Yeah. Sorry to go on a bit, but I have to get this poison out of my head, so I'll stop having nightmares about this specific way the world ends. But still, if people in the Media are any indication, some folks are still hellbent on Trump Part 2, and what the fuck even is wrong with people?? Don't you get it that dystopia, ruin and bedlam are what you get out of that? Ugh. No. Let's not turn the entire century into an utter shithole, shall we?

#personal #long #morbid #tw suicide mention #disaster planning #just in case

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rayofsunas · 3 years

Text

s/o has a mental/nervous breakdown.

A/n: hello everyone! I hope your day is going alright, and that you’re doing well 🥰 I recently hit 300+ folllwers, like Sunday morning, and omg, that was the best thing to wake up too 🥺❤️ thank you those new and old for following and taking a chance with my account and sometimes trashy works 🙃 I’m gonna make a longer post at some point saying my thanks and discuss what I plan to do to celebrate 300 followers. It would really mean a lot to me if you guys chimed in if you have any ideas, after all, this is a thanks to you and I want you all to be involved! also, if you saw my recent rambles about how a draft was deleted, it’s referring to this post... what I had written got deleted TWICE in the span of FIVE MINUTES. gosh I was so pissed, I almost screamed. mobile tumblr is not it 😔 but here we are. I hope you like this. I tried to write this three times.... 🤡 also, since I am not a doctor or anything, I put a link to possible symptoms/what a “mental breakdown” is, that’s in the warnings, just click the link, it helped with my accuracy.

Summary: s/o has a mental/nervous breakdown.

Parings: Xiao/Reader, Scaramouche/Reader, Albedo/Reader, Childe/Reader (all fem reader)

Warnings: angst, mental breakdown (panic attacks, stress, anxiety, ptsd, hallucinations, insomnia) fluff, swearing, mentions of death, mentions of injury

Word count: 3.5k (whew after tumblr DELETING this draft twice here we are folks ;-;)

requested by @mintyhuening

Xiao

he knew you weren’t okay at all

Xiao knew the moment you locked yourself in your house

at first he thought maybe you were just temporarily feeling this way, but as the weeks passed and you hadn’t come out, he decided maybe not

coming from someone who enjoyed silence and solitude he could understand the distancing part, but it had been weeks, and even he needed socialization, so why hadn’t you come out?

you spoke to him through the door a few times, letting him know you were alright

he didn’t believe that though, sure you were alive, but not alright, he was mainly checking for confirmation to see if you were still alive while he thought of a good way to approach the situation

he didn’t want to invade your privacy, but he also hated the fact that you wouldn’t come out, not even to see him

it was lonely without you, he concluded

even for someone who enjoy solitude

you were a careful creature, but never this careful and cautious...

were humans always like this?

eventually, he couldn’t stand it, and did find other ways to get into your house

he grew antsy after pacing outside your door for days

he found you huddled in your bed, a heap of pillows and blankets surrounding you

you were shocked to see him when he’d sat down on the foot of the bed, causing it to dip significantly

“How did you get in?” You snapped once you saw who it was.

“I have my ways.” He said raspily. With a huff of annoyance, you were back to facing the wall, away from the Adepti.

“It’s dark in here.” He announced matter a factly, looking around the nearly pitch-black room, windows and doors covered by sheets and hefty duty curtains. “It’s how I like it.”

“It’s not healthy.”

“I don’t care, go away.”

Xiao was starting to grow impatient surprisingly, he truly just wanted to help, why couldn't you see that?

“Being passive is not going to help the situation, please tell me what’s wrong.”

“Nothing, I’m just tired.”

He worried. If he said the wrong, would you push him away even further? If he said the right thing, would you even care? Did you want help?

Xiao moved closer to you, hand going to touch your leg, although it was underneath the blankets, you felt it and did have to admit the affection was comforting.

“Don’t do this to yourself,” Xiao said. “Your friends miss you, I miss you as well.”

Maybe if you weren’t cooped up here anymore, you would start to come around. The room and house all together were very stuffy, dark, and depressing, he despised it.

“It’s beautiful outside, come with me,” he'd whispered. “At least if you don’t want to be around people, could you allow me to take you to a secluded area?”

“The fresh air will do you good.”

You were thinking about it, you had to of been if you still cared.

“Fine, mother.” He watched with hope in his eyes as you slowly rose from the bed, and began

The outside world was very very bright at first, enough to induce a headache. But you became used to it the more you were out.

Xiao stayed true to his word like you knew he would unless you wouldn’t have come. You were taken to a very secluded area, there wasn’t even a path or road to it, just green luscious grass, and crystal core everywhere, beautiful blue and orange ones; Anemo and Geo respectively. You weren’t sure where you were, somewhere between Mondstadt and Liyue, you assumed.

The fresh air did wonders, Xiao had noticed. You seemed to open up. Telling him a little of the problem. You had told him about how life was just stressful right now, you hadn’t taken any commissions in weeks, spoken to any of your friends Mondstadt, hence why they had come to him, accusing him of kidnapping and brainwashing you. He was offended, nonetheless let them know that wasn’t the case.

The ever so secluded Xiao would take you out more, slowly introducing you to crowds of people, and would still take you on daily walks to that secret place you now called your special spot.

It would take a while, he knew that, and you wouldn’t be comfortable doing everything that others around you did, maybe not for a while. He could respect that, as long as you allowed him to help and encourage you.

Scaramouche

being a harbinger was HARD, Scaramouche knew that, even if he didn’t admit it

admitting it was challenging, could lead to always being doubted or seen as incompetent. therefore, no one mentions how hard it is

he had been off doing his duties when he got news that you had lashed out at a few lower rank fatui on your team, resulting in you being called in to meet with The Tsaritsa... let's just say she went easy on you because you were one of her highest ranking soldiers, if not, she would've severely punished you

you were forced back to your sleeping quarters immediately to calm down, told to stay put until you could stop “lashing out like a child” as she had put it

you weren’t one to argue against The Tsaritsa, everyone knew that was common rule... so you walked back as calmly as you could without snapping at anyone else

when Scaramouche had heard how you acted, he was annoyed

the always so calm and calculated Y/n, lashing out at her fellow members? he couldn’t help but be annoyed, despite it being completely out of character of you

he had finished his duties relatively quick, wondering why you were acting so out of character

when he got back, he found you in your sleeping quarters, pacing in front of the large windows near the furthest end of your room

you were still wearing your typical combat gear, though your hair disheveled and body language looking extremely anxious, he hoped it was not yours...

“What did you do this time?” Had asked the violet-eyed man, carelessly throwing his hat on your bed, lean arms folding across his chest.

No response.

“Excuse me, I believe I asked you a question.”

A loud irritable huff.

“Be quiet for once in your life, Scaramouche.” You hissed, anxiously biting at your nails. “Sorry- I’m just trying to calm down, but my heart can’t stop racing.”

Scaramouche wasn’t the most in-touch person with his feelings, and out of all the harbingers, he was one of the more difficult ones to deal with.

Surprisingly, he had shut up, despite finding it difficult to hold his malicious comment back.

“What’s wrong?” Your lover asked, more softly this time.

“My mission today was... hard. I know you said it’s important for missions to just be a one and done; no hard feelings. And you know I’ve always been that way. But this one was different.” His eyebrows furrowed, his forehead creasing in annoyance.

“I can’t help but think about what they did.”

“Did you get what you went for? I heard you sought after information regarding that Knight, Aether.”

“Yes, but-”

“I’d call that a successful mission,” He stared intensely, casually moving to sit on the comfort of your bed. Of course, he wouldn’t take this seriously. “Any casualties?”

“None of our men, but-”

“I don’t see the problem.”

“There were children, three little children, and those idiots just slaughtered them.”

“Ah... I see.”

Despite stating he understood, he really couldn’t sympathize with what you were saying. Those children were enemies as long as they worked against The Tsaritsa.

Your voice suddenly cut through the silence, staring directly into his eyes, “What if those were our children?”

“They weren’t.” Your eyes rolled at his comment.

“But what if!” He rolled his eyes, mocking your previous action.

“But they weren’t.” He mocked for a second time.

“You’re not helping, Scaramouche!”

“You’ll never understand, unless you see what I saw,” He knew you were right to some degree, but even then would he feel bad? A mission was a mission after all.

“They were begging me to protect them, and the youngest, she would not let go of my arm and then the next thing I knew, they were dead.” You continued, left hand going to grip your right, he assumed to show him where and how the said girl had gripped you. You were still shaking, this time being closer, he noticed how bad it was.

“They were pleading, I told them I would try my best, and then-” He had long ago stood, making himself present in front of you. His warm hands had grabbed your shaking ones harshly, ceasing the trembling momentarily.

“Please, be quiet,” The sixth harbinger snipped. “I don’t like seeing you upset.” Although it sounded harsh, he was trying his best to make it sound how he felt, even if those feelings were minuscule towards this specific topic.

“Although, I don’t agree with you about this particular concern of yours- I will do whatever you need to help you.”

Albedo

now, he may just be an alchemist, but trust me, Albedo sees the signs before anyone, he has some sort of familiarity with them due to his incessant reading

and it may have taken him longer to see the signs because of how busy he was, but he saw them

he was no fool to the likes of insomnia, in fact he knew it very well, often staying up very late into the night and morning, sometimes for days at a time

he was cooped up in his lab and it wasn’t as if his body wasn’t tired, cause hell he was, there was just s much more to learn and discover, his brain WOULD not stop,

Albedo hadn’t known how long this had been going on for, but he was seeing signs now

ngl, he didn’t notice that you hadn’t been sleeping properly until one night he decided to accompany you in bed earlier than usual (It was three a.m, yikes), and found that you were awake still

you were lying still on your side of the bed, and if it hadn’t been for the fact that he reached over to kiss your cheek, only to see your eyes open, he would’ve assumed you were alright and asleep

“You’re awake?” The ashy-blonde man asked, sliding into bed next to you.

“Can’t sleep.” You shrugged nonchalantly, scooting closer to him, seeking his warmth and comfort.

“You should’ve come to get me, I would’ve come to bed earlier with you.”

“It’s alright, I peeked in to see if you were still alive,” You joked, he chuckled. “You seemed very busy.”

“Yes, but, I thought I told you to remind me when you need attention, I often get sidetracked and enamored with my work.”

“It’s quite alright, Albedo. As long as you’re sleeping.”

He hummed, whispering tired words of adoration in your ear. That carried on for a while, as long as talking about the day's work and whatnot, until you eventually questioned, “Can I play with your hair?” The gesture was sweet, and that did sound amazing right about now since he was on the brink of sleep, but just needed that little push. But weren’t you tired?

“Aren’t you tired?”

You sat up, climbing behind Albedo, gently placing his head in your lap. “I’ll go after you.” A soft smile adorned your beautiful face. “You need sleep, you stay up for Archon knows how long.”

He selfishly allowed his eyes to close and waited for sleep to accompany him while you began untangling his two braids and ponytail. You played with and braided his hair until he’d fallen asleep as you said. You stayed up the rest of the morning though.

Eventually, probably out of boredom, you fell asleep for an hour or two around five a.m. Though, unfortunately, you were back up before six. You busied yourself while Albedo slept, starting with cleaning his lab. Albedo often did not like people touching his books, paperwork, and findings, but after instructing you how to properly take care of his stuff, he welcomed your help with open arms, seeing as though his lab was ALWAYS in shambles from not having enough time to take care of things himself.

Albedo surprisingly woke up around nine, wavy hair surrounding him like a lion, you chuckled to yourself at the sight. “How did you sleep?”

“Alright, considering my sleep schedule is nonexistent a lot of the time.” You nodded, bumping shoulders teasingly. “How about you?”

“Okay,” You said, immediately changing the subject. “I woke up early, so I cleaned your lab, I hope it’s to your likings, Kreideprinz.” You teased, bowing at the waist.

The alchemist waved you off, with a smile. “We’ll see about your organizational skills after you eat.”

How had he known?

“You haven’t eaten yet, have you?” Albedo asked, heading in the direction of the kitchen.

“That obvious.” You wondered trailing after him.

“You always wait for me, darling.”

“You look exhausted.” Albedo’s concerned voice cut in through the smooth Mondstadt breeze. You had been so distracted with the discovery in front of you, you hadn’t realized your boyfriend was staring directly at you. “When was the last time you slept?” He glanced back down at the discovery, still listening, but if you didn’t speak soon he’d be lost in his world again.

“A day or two, but-” Albedo probably got whiplash from how hard he’d snapped his head to face you, but now he was staring at you with features reading nothing but shock, cerulean eyes blown wide.

“I think your bad sleeping schedule is contagious.” You joked, trying to make the situation lighter-hearted. He didn’t laugh.

Albedo was more serious this time, proving it when he faced you completely. “What’s been going on?” His voice was soft, but he was extremely worried.

Nervousness built up in his lover's body. “Nothing! I just-” You sighed. Might as well tell him the truth, he’d coerce the answer from you no matter what it took. “It’s been harder to sleep after my injury from that ruin guard. When it hit me, I banged my head against the concrete, and ever since I guess it’s been hard to sleep.”

“You could've told me sooner. I would have stopped everything and anything for you.” Yes, that was true, that was the problem though. You didn’t want to be coddled like a baby

“I know, I’m not sure why I didn’t... Naturally, I don’t want to worry you.”

He moved closer to you so he could cradle your face in his hands. “You can always tell me anything you know that.”

“I understand that. You’re a busy man so-”

“From this moment on, my work will be dedicated to finding a cure for you.”

You panicked, not wanting to stop his work for the likes of what you were dealing with. “What? Wait no-”

“You can’t stop me, darling. You take precedence over everything.”

Albedo made it his goal to do whatever possible to help you. Whether it be spending days in his lab making concoctions in hopes of creating something that could safely aid you with sleep. Or he’s in the libraries, reading all the books on the wellness and health of humans. He’s already on top of it the minute you expressed your concerns. In the meantime, he’s going to make sure he goes to bed with you much earlier, and won’t go until you do, to ensure you’re resting.

We love sweet caretaker Albedo.

(I understand insomnia can have other causes, not just a mental or nervous breakdown, but it’s kind of implied when reader hurt her head that she’s not well.)

Childe

Childe is simply not going to know your not well, he just won’t, it’s not that he doesn’t care, it’s more so the fact that he has a hard time paying attention to anything other than his missions and duties, he does not want to slow down

you have to show signs or tell him to realize

he decided to take a break though, seeing as he did promise you dinner tonight. he told you it would be his treat, since he did have a bunch of Mora lying around that he simply had no other use for

he figured a nice dinner and trip to one of the nicer cities with more to offer would be nice, he would buy you anything you desired

it was nearing the time for dinner though, and the reservations had already been made, so when he was left waiting, let's just say he was irked...

if you didn’t want to show up, you would’ve told him, so maybe you forgot? he concluded that couldn’t be it

the last time he’d brought it up, two days ago, you had been so excited you couldn’t sit still nor stop talking about it

asking a few people around town if you had been spotted anywhere, some said you had wandered off to Luhua Pool, something about there being a myth about special healing properties within the water

now he was even more confused

one, you NEVER went to Luhua Pool, there was never a need to do so

two, special healing properties? why would you need that? were you hurt in his absence?

you were his family, and he loved his family more than anything, so if something was wrong, he’d do whatever it took to help you

he traveled from Snezhnaya to Luhua Pool in record speed

he did find you eventually, the sun was setting, but thanks to the glowing water he could make your form out easily

you were hunched over, in what looked like to be some simple greenish cloth dress, he couldn’t see what you were doing, and called out your name

no answer

“Hey, what’re you doing here?” The orange-haired teen asked, crouching down beside his lover to see what was wrong.

“Cleaning.” You had said. That’s when his dull blue eyes traveled to what you were doing, watching with a confused stare as you scrubbed at what seemed to be clean hands.

“Hmm, I see...” He couldn’t tell if this was a prank or not, you usually played along with his teasing nature. “Are you ready for dinner?”

“Was that really today?” Your head lifted, leaving your hands to momentarily hanging in the air, water droplets dripping off into the pool.

Okay... so you did forget it seemed, which did shock him seeing as though you were over the moon, less than seventy-two hours ago.

“Uh, yeah, did you really forget? That’s unlike you! I’ve learned women don’t forget anything.” He teased, hand going to his chin. You hummed, turning back to do whatever it was you had been previously.

The harbinger frowned. “Do you still want to go? We can make it if we’re fast.” You sounded like a robot, much like a ruin guard, he concluded.

“I’m sorry, not today, I’m dirty...”

Childe couldn’t help but chuckle, “Dirty? Sweetheart, you’re cleaner than most people I’ve seen, what’re you on about-”

“The blood, it’s stained my hands, can’t you see?” Even after holding your hands to show him, he saw nothing resembling blood.

“Are you playing games with me? Sure, it would’ve been funny any other day, not today though-”

“You don’t believe me?” You sounded hurt, but whatever was going on, he wouldn’t feed into these... false hallucinations. “The townspeople said the same thing, they called me crazy...” You scrubbed even harder at your hands, letting out a frustrated huff.

“I don’t see anything, I’m really sorry,” He said gently, reaching into the water to grasp your warm hands in his, “But if you continue to do that...I will see the blood.”

Childe was not sure what was going on, maybe some sort of PTSD? Although, he wasn’t sure where it could’ve come from... you’re not a harbinger or fatui, or anyone that is engaged in battle, etc. so it didn’t make sense. Unless something happened that decided to resurface now.

He immediately took you home, hand in his to keep you from further scratching your hands. On the journey, you often asked, “Why are you even touching me? There’s a lot of blood.”

He didn’t want to have to feed into whatever was going on, worried he’d damage you somehow, and he didn’t want to make you sound crazy, so instead he said, “Because I love you.”

When you both arrived home, he’d immediately laid you in bed, saying you appeared tired before going to search for a doctor.

Child will see every and all doctors in Teyvat and will pay whatever amount necessary to figure out what’s wrong, that’s for sure. Doesn’t take orders from the harbingers (not like he was anyways) and opts to stay close to you at all times.

He decided to keep his teasing to a minimum, though he found that sometimes things slipped out accidentally, he’d do anything in his power to help you.

1.18.21, rayofsunas

#rayofsunas #genshin impact #genshin impact x reader #genshin impact imagines #scaramouche #scaramouche x reader #albedo #albedo x reader #childe #childe x reader #tartagalia #xiao #xiao x reader

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fruggo · 3 years

Note

Hello ! I saw the enemies fo lovers things and I wanna request if possible

“ rich coming from the guy who tried to kill me three days ago. “

With frank if you would and thank you

yessirrr i love frank sm it’s not ok. also umm i may have accidentally written friends to enemies to lovers or something idk. and though i wouldnt necessarily call you friends at the start, you werent really enemies yet???? idk🐸just ummm yeh i love frank

also help how do i not go overboard???? i feel like i made this way too long, please help and i am sorry

warnings: canon-typical violence, swearing, frank being a bastard but then you’re like awwww he’s a cute bastard aaaaw

Things were weird with Frank, and they always had been from the moment you stepped foot in the Entity’s realm. He always tunneled you relentlessly, and that made you think of him as a big asshole, but there were some strange details tacked onto the sentiment that greatly confused you, should you think about it for more than three seconds.

Sometimes, it seemed like he went easy on you in chases, like he put in no effort. He would chase you for a while, let you waste his time, and then leave without even getting a hit on you when he definitely had the ability to.

And you hated saying this, but when he handled you, it almost felt…gentle. Granted, he was a killer, and his job was to murder you, but your experiences with him did not quite line up with those of the other survivors.

They always described trials against Frank as “stepping on legos in the middle of the night” or something akin to that. You never felt like that, though—when he chased you, it felt fair. Almost as if he played nice with you. And more often than not, the killer would let you go when he caught you. The reason remained a mystery to you until quite a bit later.

This trial, Frank was in 100% bastard mode. You had begun to think of his trials as quite easy due to his seemingly calm nature around you, so you were rather caught off guard when he downed you in the first 30 seconds of the match and tossed you onto a hook, no gentleness whatsoever.

You wanted to yell at him and ask what the fuck was wrong with him until you realized this was his fucking job, and this is how he should have been treating you all along. Maybe you had just been imagining it all, but you could have sworn he used to leave you alone more than this. Something just felt different.

After you were unhooked, he went for you again. And again. And then you were dead, completely wiped out of the trial. Frank had demolished you with no remorse.

You knew it was silly to feel betrayed, but you really couldn’t help it. In such an insane and hellish place, anything that could be even remotely perceived as kindness seemed like so much more of a big deal than it truly was. So Frank’s supposed “gentleness” with you had felt somewhat like a friend doing you a selfless favor. Of course, it was not a selfless favor, and it was certainly nowhere near kindness, because he was still a killer chasing you with a knife, but your standards had really lowered in this place.

After that trial, you were back to hating Frank for tunneling and bullying you (like you probably should). You began to understand the survivors’ saying about the legos—and you hoped that Frank would step on some legos too, because he fucking sucked sometimes.

And for a while, that’s just how it was. You nearly forgot how he used to go easier on you, and how you used to do okay in his matches. Now every time you were pit against each other it just felt like you were being stuck with a bunch of pins; you never had any time to breathe or rest or do literally anything. He just went after you until you were gone, and there was next to nothing you could do about it.

Everything changed very suddenly during a trial at Ormond.

You were expecting the same old routine with this asshole—chase, blah blah blah, die. You hardly had energy to fight back anymore.

So when he arrived out of breath at the killer shack, somehow knowing you would be here, Frank was surprised to find you relaxing under the window with your arms loosely crossed, a disapproving scowl upon your countenance. It was enough to make him hesitate in his tracks.

You let out a deep breath, refusing to break eye contact with his mask; you kept up that menacing frown for as long as you could, trying to make him feel guilty (who knows if it was even possible for him to feel guilty? But it was worth a try).

“Just kill me,” you said, voice steady and seemingly unbothered. Underneath the surface, you were trembling, but you stood your ground. “That’s what you’re gonna do, isn’t it? You’re going to chase me until I’m miserable and kill me off as soon as you can?”

Frank went still, not even fidgeting with his knife like he usually did; he was intrigued by your sudden confidence.

You went on. “I’m really sick and tired of you, you know that? I’m sick of you and your bullshit. Why can’t you treat me like everybody else? At first, you went easy on me. Now you just torture me with your stupid mind games, and frankly, I’m sick of playing! I’m done with you—I don’t care anymore! Just kill me, and I’ll get out of your way, okay asshole? Mori me if you want. I don’t give a shit.”

You put your hands up exasperatedly, fully expecting him to take the offer and just send you back to the campfire right then and there. But the man sighed, pocketed his knife, and sat down right next to you as if this were a normal thing for him to do.

You scooted a few inches away out of instinct. Frank noticed, but he chose not to say a word about it.

It was a long time before he said anything, and when he finally did, you wanted to punch him so bad.

“It’s complicated,” he mumbled. And that was all.

Oh, yeah? It was complicated? You scoffed, hanging your head with a bitter smile. “Oh, okay. Sure.”

Silence again.

Awkward, suffocating silence.

And then Frank got up and left. You were unbothered for the remainder of the trial, not even a scratch or bruise on your body.

Sometimes you simply did things, and you didn’t know why. This thing that you just did was irrational, stupid, unplanned, unwise, and everything in-between, and you knew it was, but frequently you just had no impulse control. Perhaps it was the Entity’s influence, or maybe you had always been this way—you couldn’t really remember.

How did you get here again? Why were you laying on the ground? And why did your leg hurt so fucking much?

Oh, yes. Yes, yes, you remember now.

Funnily enough, it seems as though the Entity, along with certain killers, did not like it when survivors tried to enter their side of the forest! But you did it anyways, and it appeared that you had suffered the consequences. It’s not like you had put much thought into it; where was the point in that when nothing mattered anymore and you were stuck in an endless cycle of death?

You remembered entering the killer’s woods, looking around, and doing…something. What was that something? You couldn’t be sure, but then you remembered somebody coming up to you and probably definitely hurting you. Yep, your leg definitely was in a lot of pain. You couldn’t even look at it. Did you pass out for a while? Maybe. How long were you out for?

You lay still there for a while, thinking. Man, it really hurt, and boy, were you miserable. Maybe more miserable than you’d ever felt here. The Entity normally healed wounds immediately, but perhaps you had just angered it so much you deserved to suffer.

Oh, dear! You seemed to be passing out at this time. Yes, that was almost certainly what was happening. Black spots danced across your eyes as your body began to feel distant and numb, but you didn’t feel very worried about it. In fact, you felt like making jokes right now, but you had nobody to make jokes to and you probably couldn’t even speak.

Just as you began to accept it, there was a strange thumping sensation vibrating through the ground growing closer…and closer…

Footsteps! That’s good!

Oh. Not if it’s a killer. That’s not good, probably.

But you had no way of protesting when you felt yourself being picked up, because those black spots in your eyes were dancing a lot faster now, perhaps something akin to an Irish jig, and you also couldn’t feel your limbs.

Then you were fast asleep again, dreaming of Irish dancers who were actually big fluffy cloud people wearing leprechaun clothes. Nobody but you would ever know this, and it was going to stay that way.

On the bright side, it made it a lot easier for your rescuer to carry you to safety like this.

When you awoke once more, you were horrified to find yourself in the Ormond lodge of all places. You knew immediately what had happened and were determined to escape as soon as possible.

Your injured leg proved to be a huge problem, however, and you collapsed the second you attempted to find freedom. Trying again, you collapsed once more, and probably maimed yourself further in the process.

Hearing the commotion from the second floor, your least favorite member of The Legion descended down from the main stairs, refusing to look directly at you even as he scooped you up and plunked you (gently) back onto the couch, which was rather comfortable (not that you would ever tell him that).

So he was playing it cool, huh?

Okay. You could play it cool, too. You were cool. Smooth as butter.

No. You really couldn’t be cool in a situation like this, and plus, your mind was still a little woohoo since whatever accident had occurred. Suddenly you blurted out, “Frank, I hate your guts.”

And he had the audacity to laugh. He laughed at you! He did the man chuckle thing, as if what you were saying was funny. No! You were completely serious! You did hate his guts!

Perhaps your face showed how upset you were, because he started to apologize (still laughing).

“Maybe you should go back to sleep,” Frank said after calming down a bit.

No. You couldn’t go back to sleep. You did not want to experience dancing cloud people dressed as leprechauns ever again in your life, for the rest of eternity. Never again.

So you shook your head violently, refusing to give an explanation, which just provoked Frank to anger all of a sudden. If you went back to sleep, he could have some alone time while the rest of The Legion was gone. He kept pushing, and you kept resisting, and he pushed and you resisted, until finally he gave up and let you off with a warning. If you made him mad again, he was throwing you out in the snow.

Fine with me, you said. Okay, I’ll do it right now, he said. No balls, you said.

So then Frank casually went to scoop you up in his arms again, and you started to freak out and beat your hands against his chest until he put you back down. He was was awfully mindful of your hurt leg for someone who was about to throw you into the snow.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry—please don’t throw me out,” you fussed. You thought he wouldn’t actually do it. You didn’t know it, but you were right—he was just messing with you because it was funny seeing you scared.

After a bit more griping back and forth, Frank began to grow concerned about your leg. He didn’t know how to bring up the topic because things were so odd between the two of you; this was your first interaction since the brief encounter in the shack. But he swallowed his pride, because the wound seemed to be getting worse by the minute.

“Hey, do you want me to, uhh…get some supplies?” Frank asked awkwardly. When you didn’t understand, he continued, “Your leg? It looks like it hurts…I could fix it if you want.”

You barked out a laugh at his words, unbelieving of this shift in attitude. “Rich coming from the guy who tried to kill me three days ago,” you snickered, genuinely finding it amusing.

Frank took offense. He was trying to be nice for once, and you thought it was funny. And his situation really was complex, whether you chose to believe it or not. Maybe he should just tell you to get it off of his chest.

“Listen,” he said, voice laced with seriousness. “When I told you things were complicated, I meant it.”

Sensing the mood change from his tone and body language, you stopped smiling and decided to pay attention to him. Just this once. Never again. After this you could go back to hating him.

Frank continued. “The Entity was going to start…well, hurting me, if I didn’t start doing better in trials. I really didn’t want to sacrifice you, which is embarrassing to admit, but I’ll say it. And I don’t think it liked that.”

You were surprised. And also relieved that you had been right all along—he had been going easy on you at first.

“Why me, though?” you asked, confused. “Why wouldn’t you want to sacrifice me? What about the other survivors?”

If the slight tilt of his head at your question didn’t answer it for you, the way he started tapping his feet and cracking his knuckles so nervously did.

Boy, if looks could kill, you would have died instantly at the scowl Frank sent your way; you grinned pridefully at the realization that this man was down bad. You couldn’t see the expression behind his mask, though, which Frank was thankful for.

He hated every second of this, but you loved it. You reveled in his embarrassment.

Leaning forward on your hands, you begged, “Tell me more! I want to hear all about your feelings for me.”

“I could stab you right now, you know that?”

“But you won’t. You liiiiike me!”

“What are you, eight years old?”

“No, but I am severely injured and have lost a lot of blood so I am not necessarily in the right headspace at the moment.”

“You make a fair point.”

“So tell me! What’s your favorite thing about me?”

“Your ass.”

“No, really.”

“Okay, your ass and your hair.”

“You know what, Frank, I still hate your guts.”

“No, you don’t.”

You paused for a moment. It was probably the blood loss talking, you decided later, but you said, “No. Maybe I don’t.”

#:) i kinda rly like this ahaha it was fun #i hope it’s okay <3 #fruggo writes #requests #enemies to lovers prompt #frank morrison x reader #frank morrison #the legion x reader #the legion #dbd x reader #dbd oneshot #dbd writing #dead by daylight x reader #dead by daylight #dbd #dbd frank

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robininthelabyrinth · 3 years

Note

🍊🍋Wen Chao and/or wen xu is a good guy and actually wants to end wen ruo jan's reign of terror (cloud recesses, lotus pier, xuanwu cave or all are elaborate ruses)

ao3

Untamed

“A-Chao,” Wen Xu said. “I think our father is insane.”

Wen Chao’s eye twitched visibly, his shoulders rising up to his ears. “You can’t say that! That’s treason!”

“I’ve already made sure there’s no one anywhere around us right now, not even people I trust.”

Down went the shoulders.

“Of course he’s insane,” Wen Chao said. “Some of his orders recently…”

He shook his head.

“Not much of an empire to rule if they’re all ghost puppets, is there?” he concluded. “I think the Yin Metal is poisoning his brain.”

“I agree,” Wen Xu said. “Now what do we do about it? He’s just ordered me to raze the Cloud Recesses.”

“…when you say raze –”

“To the ground.”

“What happened to just dominating the rest of the cultivation world?” Wen Chao complained. “I liked that plan. I was going to have a really great life. A palace. Servants. Good food. Even better wine. Enough clothing to keep Jiaojiao from complaining.”

“I…don’t know if that’s possible,” Wen Xu said. “Haven’t you given her three closets’ worth already?”

“I have no idea, and I’m too attached to my balls to ask.”

“Anyway,” Wen Xu said. “What do we do about it?”

“You’re asking me?” Wen Chao said.

“Well I’m certainly not going up against him by myself! He’ll kill me!”

“You think he would hesitate to kill both of us?”

“Ugh. Is there anyone we can ask for help? Anyone we haven’t pissed off?”

They both paused, thinking.

“…no,” Wen Chao said. “But in our defense, we never thought we’d need any of them, did we?”

“I don’t think anyone is going to buy that as an excuse,” Wen Xu said, scowling. “Fuck. Isn’t there anyone?”

“Well,” Wen Chao said. He did not continue.

“No,” Wen Xu said. “No. He literally wants to cut off our heads.”

“So does everyone else in the cultivation world,” Wen Chao said. “At least we know Sect Leader Nie hates Dad more than he hates us, which isn’t something that can be said about the rest of them.”

“Fuck,” Wen Xu said. “What’s our alternative plan?”

“…become ghost puppets?”

“Fuck.”

“You do remember that I want to kill you both?” Nie Mingjue said, scowling at them.

“We were betting on you wanting to kill our father more,” Wen Chao said.

“I’m not sure,” Nie Mingjue said. “You’re very obnoxious.”

Wen Chao scowled.

“He has a point, A-Chao,” Wen Xu said.

“Shut up.”

“Respect your elders!”

“If you two are going to start fighting, I’m leaving,” Nie Mingjue said.

They both squinted at him. “Does that mean you might not leave if we stop?” Wen Xu asked.

Nie Mingjue’s scowl got even worse, but eventually he begrudgingly said “…well, I really hate your father.”

They both exhaled in relief.

“What’s your plan?” Nie Mingjue asked.

“This was about as far as it went,” Wen Xu admitted, and Nie Mingjue gaped at him. “What? If we had planning skills, we’d be ruling the world.”

“Jiaojiao wants jewelry now,” Wen Chao agreed. “Lots of it. Keeping a mistress is expensive.”

“I’ll…take your word for that,” Nie Mingjue said, looking mildly uncomfortable.

“You’re always plotting against our father, right?” Wen Xu asked.

“No,” Nie Mingjue said. “If I could plot, your father would already be dead.”

“Good point,” Wen Chao said, but he wasn’t the sort of person to let little details like that discourage him. “But surely you know someone who can?”

“Just keep in mind that I’m on a deadline here,” Wen Xu said. “I have to leave to go raze the Cloud Recesses by the end of the week.”

“You want me to come up with a plan to defeat your father before the end of the week?!”

“Uh, yeah,” Wen Xu said. “That’s what I said, wasn’t it?”

“It was,” Wen Chao agreed.

“I’m going to go get Meng Yao,” Nie Mingjue decided. “And Huaisang, too, why not, somehow he always gets his way no matter what I do. Maybe he can come up with something for this.”

“I think we’re going to need expert assistance,” Nie Huaisang declared. “I’m thinking this is Wei Wuxian levels of plotting.”

“He can plot?” Wen Chao said dubiously. “Are you sure? He took nearly a week to fight a mildly ominous bird.”

“…is that so?” Nie Huaisang said, and sighed. “Okay, fine. Meng Yao, guess it’s up to you and me.”

Meng Yao was blinking his eyes very rapidly.

“What?” Wen Chao said. “You have an awful father too, don’t look so shocked about us wanting to get rid of ours.”

“That’s just how his brain works when he’s thinking,” Nie Huaisang assured him. “He’s kicking it like it’s a sleeping donkey that doesn’t want to get to work; give him a minute and he’ll be coming up with all sorts of ideas.”

“Good ideas?”

“All sorts of ideas.”

“…any good ideas? Mediocre ideas, even?”

“Listen, we have until the end of the week,” Nie Mingjue said irritably. “You’ll take whatever ideas we give you and you’ll like it, you hear me?”

“Is it too late to get Wen Zhuliu in on this?” Wen Xu asked Wen Chao.

“He has that weird thing for Dad,” Wen Chao reminded him.

“Fuck,” Wen Xu said. “I’d wiped that from my memory through the application of a great deal of alcohol, but yes, you’re right. Okay. Hit me with your worst plan.”

“That’s worse than I thought it was going to be.”

“Shut up and just do it.”

“I will now, in the name of the Wen sect, attack –” Wen Xu grimaced. “– this cave.”

“It’s a very important cave, actually,” one of the Lan disciples muttered.

“Be quiet,” Lan Wangji said.

They were all pretending not to notice the main force of Lan sect disciples, led by Lan Xichen, carting their precious books and treasures out of the Cloud Recesses right behind him.

“I am attacking this very important cave,” Wen Xu clarified. “Of extreme importance to the Lan sect. So important, in fact, that it is clearly the correct target for an invasion.”

They stood around a while longer.

Someone cleared their throat. “Should we fight?”

“I can have my men beat you up if you really want,” Wen Xu said.

“…no thanks.”

“Then be quiet.”

There was a bit more standing around. Eventually Lan Qiren coughed.

“Would you like a chair or something?” Wen Xu asked, then frowned. “Never mind, I probably can’t justify that.”

“Probably not,” Lan Qiren agreed. He looked pained. Probably by the whole situation, but who knew, maybe he just had a bad back and the standing around was getting to him. “You will be taking Wangji hostage after this?”

“Along with most of the heirs of the Great Sects,” Wen Xu said. “As agreed, we’ll keep them out of the way.”

“Sometimes the most dangerous place is the safest place.”

“…yeah, that. Either way, they’ll be kept out of trouble.”

“This is not out of trouble!” Wei Wuxian shouted as they ran away from the Xuanwu.

“This stretch of river has never caused anyone any problems!” Wen Chao shouted back. “Ever! You’re the one who found the fucking cave!”

“Shut up and keep running!” Jiang Cheng howled.

“I really like your hair,” Wang Lingjiao told Madame Yu. “Also, that dress.”

Wen Chao sighed.

“Expensive tastes?” Wei Wuxian asked, pouring him some wine.

“You have no idea,” Wen Chao said glumly. “My allowance can’t cover it, so I ended up putting her as a line item in the military budget.”

“You did?” Jiang Cheng said. “Did your father, uh, object?”

“He’d have to notice.”

“I wonder how many other things he wouldn’t notice,” Wei Wuxian muttered to himself.

“You’re a young master of Yunmeng Jiang,” Jiang Cheng said, rolling his eyes. “What could you possibly want to fund that we won’t pay for?”

“I don’t know,” Wei Wuxian said. “Mad science experiments?”

“Can you pay him to stop?” Wen Xu asked. “I don’t even like flute music.”

“Shut up,” Wen Chao said. “You’ve been decapitated, remember?”

“Oh yeah, ‘decapitated’. And now I’m being force-fed lots of Qinghe barbeque,” Wen Xu said. “My life is really hard.”

“Why you…!”

Wen Xu sniggered. “How’s it going with Wen Zhuliu?”

“Fine, I think?” Wen Chao said. “He hasn’t actually noticed that the ‘demons’ we’re being hunted by aren’t really demons, but that’s because he’s been mostly drinking away his weird crush on our dad. I think Wen Ning is spiking his drink with something.”

They both turned to look at Wen Ning, who shrugged.

“Couldn’t have happened to a nicer person,” Wen Xu decided. “Are they attacking the Nightless City soon?”

“I think so.”

“What happens then?”

“Dunno.”

“Going to be kind of awkward when we ‘come back from the dead’ to take over.”

“I’m going to blame it on Wei Wuxian and his new weirdo cultivation,” Wen Chao decided. “We’re all sentient corpses he’s resurrected and using to puppet the Wen sect. Wen Ning, you in on this?”

“…sure,” Wen Ning said. “But only if I get first rights on ‘Ghost General’ as a nickname.”

“Oh, that’s a good one.”

“Thanks for the patricide,” Wen Xu said.

“Think nothing of it,” Nie Mingjue said. “Also, say nothing of it. Ever. In fact, let’s never talk again.”

“Can’t do that,” Wen Chao said. “Madame Yu told Jiaojiao that she got that fancy headpiece from Qinghe, so she wants to go there on a shopping trip.”

“Our economy could use the boost, da-ge,” Nie Huaisang said, and Nie Mingjue sighed. “It’s going to be a really big boost. Especially if she convinces Madame Jin from Lanling to come with her.”

“I still can’t believe they made friends,” Wei Wuxian marveled. “It must come from having more money than brains.”

“Brains aren’t exactly what I look for in a partner,” Wen Chao said. “Luckily for you, neither does your boyfriend.”

“Hey, I have brains!”

“You’re certainly intelligent,” Meng Yao – now named Jin Guangyao – told him.

“See?”

“That was an insult,” Nie Mingjue said.

“…hey!”

“When are you coming back to Qinghe?” Nie Huaisang asked Jin Guangyao, who blinked. “I mean, unless you want to spend all your time slaving away for a guy who thought Wen Ruohan was neat.”

“He’s right,” Wen Xu said. “Father or not, don’t do it. It’s not worth it. You’ll end up having to rebel and ask your worst enemies for help and it’s awkward.”

“I appreciate the offer,” Jin Guangyao said. “But I really can’t accept.”

“Why not?” Nie Huaisang asked.

Wen Chao pointed at him. “Seconded.”

Jin Guangyao grimaced at them both. Possibly it was meant to be a smile.

“You don’t have to go to the Unclean Realm, A-Yao,” Lan Xichen said.

“Thank you, er-ge.”

“You can come to the Cloud Recesses instead.”

“Er-ge…”

“Did anyone ever tell the Jin sect that we were working with the Wen heirs?” Nie Mingjue wondered out loud, and everyone frowned. “Because if they don’t know, and Jin Guangshan thinks he’s being subtle with the whole trying to hire Xue Yang thing, things are going to get really awkward.”

“…well, shit,” Jiang Cheng said. “I call not being the one to tell him.”

“Seconded!”

“Cloud Recesses, you said?” Jin Guangyao asked Lan Xichen, who looked pleased.

“I’m leaving,” Wen Xu decided. “I want nothing to do with this disaster. You all have fun now, I’m fucking off back to the Nightless City to live the rest of my life as a very rich man with no life goals.”

“I want to do that,” Nie Huaisang said.

“No,” Nie Mingjue said.

“But –”

“No.”

“Hey,” Wei Wuxian said. “Unrelatedly, anyone have any ideas on what should I do with the whole resentful energy seal thing now?”

“I don’t know,” Wen Chao said. “Play a giant game of keep away with it and then fake your own death?”

#mdzs #wen xu #wen chao #nie mingjue #nie huaisang #jin guangyao #wei wuxian #lan qiren #my fic #my fics #mutiny at the wen sect #Anonymous

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persephones-wren · 3 years

Note

Hi, so I had this idea for a Kaz Brekker x reader one shot were kaz is have trouble sleep and is becoming tired and grumpy during the day. So, the reader starts secretly putting lavender in his room and clothes (lavender is a good herb to aid sleeping). He starts sleeping better and doesn’t know why until he finds the reader in his room and then they can have a bit of fluff at the end of something. Idk hope you find this useful <3. Have a nice day/night!

Lavender (Kaz Brekker x Reader)

First request! Thank you for the idea anon <3 sorry this took a bit long, but I really enjoyed writing it and I think it turned out alright! I hope you like it as well :)

Warnings: spoilers for Kaz’s backstory

Genre: Angst to Fluff (?)

Word Count: 2082

He thought he had outrun the nightmare of his past.

The gloves had protected him, becoming his weapon, and the reputation that followed him had been another impenetrable fortress. How ironic that the one who led him back to his past was himself.

...

It was on a mission gone wrong, where the only way of escape was down, back in the cold harbors of Ketterdam. The frigid waters had brought his brother’s bloated and ice-cold corpse underneath his hands, fighting to keep his vision from blurring, fighting to keep himself alive.

“...Kaz!”

You were treading the water lightly, trying to stay afloat while supporting him. He tried to say something, anything, but he felt as if he were drowning as you half-hazardly pulled him onto the dock, your breath ragged and your shoulders sagging. He seemed to see right through you, and he was pale and shaking slightly, not just from the cold- something there had haunted him, though. It was obviously more than just the cool waters.

“Kaz, are you alright?” Your inquiry went unanswered, and you waited patiently, before he somewhat snapped to attention, roughly pushing himself off of you, probably bruising your shoulder as he stood and backed away furiously.

“Don’t touch me, get off of me-” he forced a shuddery breath in- “I’m fine.”

Your eyes were wide as you stared at him, and he cleared his throat and refused to look at you. He didn’t apologize, nothing of the sort, because Kaz Brekker never apologized, even rare and brief moments of weakness.

Kaz Rietveld might’ve apologized to you.

“Right, okay,” your voice was soft, but firm. “We should find the others, they’ll probably be at the meeting spot.”

You both got up slowly, muscles sore and stiff from hitting icy waters, but you swiftly and quietly towards the carriages Jesper had prepared. Neither of you said a word on the way back. Upon your arrival, both Inej and Jesper grew increasingly concerned at your condition.

“What the hell happened to you two?” Jesper had asked.

“Are you two alright?” Inej echoed.

“We survived,” you muttered, sparing a small glance at Kaz, who still wasn’t saying much. “It’s a long story.”

...

Long story indeed.

Kaz had presumed that you had told them what had happened, but he was almost praying to the Saints that you had left out the details of his condition. It wasn’t that he would necessarily be too ashamed to ever tell Jesper or Inej- but they needed him for his reliability, and any moment of weakness could be used against him, both by friends and enemies. He’d prefer that Jordie be kept with him only. After all, it only took a couple shots for Jesper to reveal almost anything.

He didn’t sleep well that night, hell, he didn’t think he’d sleep right for at least a month. His normal sleep schedule was one that could barely keep a normal person running, but with his brother lurking in every corner of his unconsciousness, it was better to stay awake, where he could be in control.

It was affecting his mood, he knew that. He had to heavily restrain himself not to snap at people, but even without snapping, his words were still scathing. He’d find more to criticize, more to hate, and he’d probably scolded every member of the Dregs in the last week. Everyone, except you. Whether it was because you were there with him or it was something more, that wasn’t something he wanted to think about.

Then suddenly, the insomnia stopped.

It had only been a week, before his sleeping schedule reverted back. Jordie was there, but it was more of what he could remember in life than death, smiles and sunshine rather than plague and death. It was a bittersweet sadness, but it had been one he’d grown used to, one he could get past quicker. He fixed himself back into his office, working on another plan rather than hovering over everyone just to find something to criticize.

What had changed?

It might’ve been the light smell of herbs, was that lavender? that permeated his office now, but he’d never caught the culprit of who had done it. And despite his ability to find cracks in any facade, he had caught no lies in any members of the Dregs.

His first thought had been you, admittedly. He knew you knew something the others didn’t, you saw him panic on the docks, and he knew you could act your way through nearly anything. It didn’t seem hard to put two and two together.

But you seemed honest enough, when he had asked you. Perhaps it was his like of you that clouded his judgement, but you genuinely didn’t seem to know anything.

…

“Stop that.”

“Huh?” you whirled around, and Kaz was there, cane in hand, glare piercing through you.

“Stop putting whatever herbs in my room.”

You stared at him, confused, before you burst out laughing. “Is someone putting herbs in your room? That’s why your office always smells like lavender now...I’m sorry, Kaz, but that isn’t me, although it would be funny if it was. Ha...I don’t think I could get away with sneaking in your office if I tried.”

“Any ideas who it could be, then?” He asked impatiently.

“I’m sorry, I have no idea. It could be anyone, really. Even though I-” was the one who saw you at the docks, the words hung unspoken, “um, yeah, everyone’s noticed you’ve been different. Truthfully though, I think they just think it’s because a mission went wrong.”

“Fine.” He nodded at you, and then he’d went to go find Jesper at the Crow Club.

It was a truth, in a way. You couldn’t go around sneaking herbs in his room. You weren’t silent enough for that, you were an actress, not a shadow. Inej, however, was the Wraith, and if anyone could get away with it, it’d be her.

So you’d ask for her help, whether it was distracting him or asking her to put the herbs in herself.

And you’d both play dumb until he was back to the person you knew.

…

It had only been one unfortunate night, where you were finally caught putting the lavender on his desk.

You had gotten better at just sneaking in and doing it yourself without Inej’s help, as you’d successfully done it for at least three nights in the past month. Tonight, though, Inej had been running some other task, probably nightly reports for Kaz, and luck had finally run out without her assistance.

“Y/N.”

You froze, and a chill ran down your spine. Though Kaz Brekker was never exactly friendly by any means, the slight warmth of his tone towards you had withered into frost. You were completely fucked. If he was lucky, maybe he’d let you out of the Crows alive. He doesn’t think you’re the one putting lavender in this room- he probably thinks you’re a traitor. Have fun talking yourself out of this one without admitting to it, you berated yourself. Saints know you’ll need the luck.

“If you’re here to steal plans and distribute them, then it’s certainly a pity that I liked you,” he muttered. “And I suppose even more impressive that you had me fooled.” He advanced forward, and his slammed his cane into the ground next to you, making you flinch. “How did you do it, then?”

“I- um, well, it’s,” you tripped, frantically trying to find the words, “it’s nothing like that. I’m not taking your plans. They have no use to me. I dislike Pekka just as much as you do. Do you think missions I’ve done with you would’ve gone successfully if I was working with him?”

“If you aren’t, then why are you in my office?”

“I’m just trying to-” you cut yourself off and sighed. Help was not going to be a good word to use. Kaz didn’t need help, and he’d probably just be more furious it you stated it for how it was. “Lavender is good for sleeping.”

He had long forgotten that someone actually had to be putting the lavender there. It just showed up now, for a month. He’d just accepted it.

“So it’s you, then?”

“Yeah,” you say sheepishly. “I’m sorry I lied to you, earlier. I don’t like seeing you in pain, though. People rely on you, they need you, Kaz, and well, I thought- never mind what I thought. I just hoped you would rest better, after...”

“You didn’t tell them what happened?”

There’s an odd vulnerability in his words, but you don’t remark on them. “No.” A faint smile is etched on your lips at the thought of your lie. “I told them that you were upset that the mission had gone wrong, and that it was mostly my fault. You scolded me on the docks and gave me the silent treatment in the carriage, that’s all it was to them. If you want to talk- I mean- what happened there?”

You know you’re seconds away from breaking the ice you’d been treading on lightly, but curiosity takes the better of you for a second before you’re rapidly apologizing, getting ready to leave the office before he kills you.

He found you in his office, he thought you stole plans, and then you admit you’ve been there more than once because you’re the girl who put lavender in his room. You really need to think things through more.

“Good that you didn’t tell them. Stop apologizing. Take a seat, for a second.”

You do so, keeping your questions to yourself. He stares at you for a long moment, conflicted, before he gathers himself again. “What happened at the harbors. I had a brother, Jordie Rietveld. He died during the plague. We both got thrown in the harbor. He was dead. I was alive, surrounded by death.” He’s quiet for a bit, but when he glances at your expression, there’s no pity, no horror on your face, you don’t believe he’s weak. You’re quietly waiting for him to continue. So he does.

“I needed to get back onto land. I got there using my brother to hold onto.”

“You wear gloves because of that now,” you point out quietly.

He takes a shuddering breath in. “Yes.”

“When we had to dive, it came back to you. Kaz,” you whisper, “thank you for telling me.”

“Thank you,” he echoes your words. He’s shaking and vulnerable, even though he hasn’t said much. Even then, there’s no look of fear or judgement of anything he’s done in your expression. The respect he has worked to earn is still there, and he could sigh in relief.

He’s twisting at his hands, before you realize he’s slowly slipping off his gloves. Your voice cuts through the air, talking frantically again. “No, no- Kaz, we don’t have to do this. I don’t want you to do this if you’re not ready- you don’t have to-”

“I want to.”

His voice is quiet, but full of resolve.

“Okay.”

His hands are normal. They’re not ugly, or disfigured, or strange. They fit him.

“Your hands are pretty.” The words slip out of you before you realize.

He laughs, a little breathless, and the tension eases a little. “My hands are pretty?”

“Yeah.”

You outstretch your hand, and he waits a couple of moments before slowly interlocking it with yours. It’s sickening and he has to will himself to hold on, but he does. He feels content, content that you’re here, content that you’re willing to help him.

“You can let go if you need to.” Your voice sounds far away.

“I’m alright.” He’s not, but you’re warm. You’re alive, you’re not Jordie. He’s in his office, with the girl who put lavender in his room, not in the cold harbor with death.

You both stay for a long while, before he lets go.

“Thank you,” he repeats, before he slips on his gloves again.

“It’s nothing,” you answer, but you both know it’s everything, everything to you, everything to him.

You start to walk towards the door, before his voice calls out again. “Tomorrow. I can’t promise I’ll-” be a good person, be the person you want, be there for you-

“Tomorrow,” you agree. “Goodnight, Kaz.”

“Goodnight, Y/N.”

The smell of lavender lingers in his room. He picks up the flower you had left on his desk, and an uncharacteristic smile blooms on his face.

Tomorrow.

#six of crows #grishaverse #soc kaz #inej #kaz brekker x reader #kaz rietveld #kaz x reader #kaz brekker imagine #request #soc x reader #i think thats all #thank you anon

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ashintheairlikesnow · 3 years

Text

Barrage

For @whumptober2021 day 3: taunting | insults | “Who did this to you?”

CW: War whump, WWI, dehumanization, vampire whumpee, degrading language, negative/panic stimming due to sensory overload, casual ableism (it’s not intended as such, but effectively is), period-appropriate xenophobia, implied future loss of limb, brief religious talk at end

1918, the Western Front of World War One

If he’s screaming, he can’t hear himself over the sounds of the artillery.

Shells fly through the air with the only warning a high whistle before they burst apart in blasts that shake the trenches like an infant with a rattle, knocking free dirt from the sides of the trenches.

It drifts down to land on his shoulders, settling over the hands he has over his head. His palms press against his ears and it does nothing, absolutely nothing. There are tears in his eyes, fear bleeding pink into mud that simply turns darker, seeing no difference between vampiric saltwater and blood.

Not that there is much of a difference, really.

His mouth is wide open against the ground, throat taut, lungs tight with the expulsion of air but the vibration of sound in his throat is so overwhelmed by the rumbling of the earth and the barrage slamming into the ground around him that he can’t feel if he’s making any sounds or not.

If he had a beating heart it would be pounding, but it lays still in his chest, locked in the final heartbeat he’d had more than a decade before.

That he is already dead never quite undoes the visceral horror of sounds too loud for a human mind to understand, destruction too total and complete. The part of him that is still human shrieks at him to run, but there isn’t anywhere to go.

The barrage is everywhere, it’s in everything. The trees blast apart above their heads, branches and fragments of bark and leaves rain down into the trench.

The other men hunker down, trying not to look directly up, each of them with eyes closed or staring off into space, flinching now and then, hands trembling so hard their rifles rattle. There’s no point in moving - the shells will find them if they so much as pop up over the bags. All they can do is wait, and wait, and hear the sounds without knowing which come from their own side and which from the enemy.

In a moment like this, the human body knows only terror, and there is nowhere to run to escape it.

Finally, the sounds start to die off. A final whistle, a single explosion, and then everything falls silent.

Not that the vampire boy can tell, not at first.

His ears keep ringing, painful noise that is inside him and not without. He slowly pulls his hands off from his ears and pushes up to his knees, shuddering, rocking back and forth in an attempt to soothe his nerves. He can feel, now, the vibration in his throat. He can’t hear himself but he must be humming, low and tuneless, trying to drown out the panic.

Once the shells have finished, the gunfire begins.

“Here they come! Steady aim, boys, the Krauts are on us!”

The sound of the soldier’s voice seems tinny and small, so distant, trapped behind the ringing in Tristan’s ears. He screams himself, into the mud beneath him. Someone races past, stopping briefly to pat his head. If they speak, he can’t hear them over the shrieking noise inside his mind.

Short reports break through the air like thrown knives, the soldiers in the trenches alongside him popping briefly up from behind their protective shield of sandbags to fire on the German infantry who come out of the shell-smoke like a swell of horrible phantoms.

They fall, they cry out, they hit the ground.

Sometimes the Americans let out a cry themselves, someone is fired upon and falls. Someone else yells in fierce victory. Someone shouts a curse.

He hears a man shout, “I won’t die today!” and hopes it’s true.

Tristan loses time, shivering compulsively and curling into himself, humming and rocking until the ringing finally starts to die down. Longer, still, as long as the rifles continue to fire. He hears a wild, high-pitched cry, and glances up to see a German with a bayonet through him drop to his knees and then fall into the trench, landing less than three feet away.

The man’s probably dead before he hits, but Tristan still screams and pushes back, scrambling until his back hits the wall. His knees are damp from the mud he’s curled up in and he doesn’t care, he’s never cared. All that matters is finding some small hint of peace.

It seems like an eternity before even the gunfire starts to go quiet.

There’s a voice that calls, but he can’t care enough to let the sounds filter into understandable words. He smacks his hands into the mud, again and again, pushing himself forward and back, finally leaning down to knock his head into the ground, over and over. Each contact with solidity is a soothing rush, slowly working its way down his spine and through his muscles, reminding him that the noise is gone, the noise is over.

The voice calls again.

There’s no more guns firing, no more shells. The world settles into an awful heavy silence that is nearly worse than the sounds. They’re in the middle of a forest more vast than any Tristan has ever seen before, and there are no birds, because there are no more trees for the birds to live in.

Only the doughboys and the enemy, everyone the walking dead. They’re as dead as Tristan is, their bodies just haven’t figured it out yet. And they won’t get back up when they fall.

The vampire keeps knocking his head into the ground. It helps to stop his thoughts from spinning and swirling in a mad spiral inside.

It doesn’t help enough.

He’s brought back to himself by a kick, a fellow soldier’s boot knocking hard into his hip and sending him onto his side. He grunts and looks up, squinting. The German soldier’s corpse is gone - they’ve moved it while he was locked within himself, within his terror. The sky above them has a sickly glow beneath heavy clouds brought on by smoke from the fires and explosion.

The soft sound of distant wounded calling for help filters into his understanding.

The soldier that kicked him, Kirk, gives him a grin. The man’s face is streaked with mud, dark with it, and only his teeth and his eyes show white. “Hey, medic. Didn’t you hear the officers?”

Tristan looks up at him, and slowly shakes his head. His ears ring, a little, but all their ears ring. They’re all shouting just to be heard.

“Huh. Well, trench got blown apart off to the east. It’s your time to do what you do best, fangs. Go sniff out the ones we can save.” Kirk grins. “Like a fucking dog.”

The vampire closes his eyes, shuddering, looking away, shaking his head more in denial than in real refusal. It feels like the shells are still breaking apart inside him, shuddering rumbles inside his nerves now, not up in the sky. His whole body shakes. “I, I, I c-c-can’t, can’t, I-... I c-can’t go, go up there, c-can’t-”

“Doesn’t matter what you wanna do or not, bloodfuck. You think any of us would be here if anyone important gave a damn about our feelings? Gotta earn your bloodbags, don’t you? Get up there with the dogs where you fucking belong. ”

The other soldiers laugh as Kirk kicks him again. Their laughter isn’t even mean, exactly, but carries an edge of hysteria. It’s a release of tension after the barrage for them, after the gunfire, after the loss or three or four of their own, listening to how Kirk talks to him. It makes them all feel better, reminds them they’re still alive by reminding them that the vampire isn’t.

And, for whatever it is worth, it seems they’ve held the line.

To Tristan’s mind, a bit of land doesn’t seem worth what they are being asked to suffer.

He uncurls himself slowly, his bones aching in protest of his movements, his body begging him not to show himself above the bags, to be potentially seen by a German sniper just waiting for the American soldiers to pop up thinking it’s all over and make excellent little targets.

The vampire reaches out with a trembling hand to pick up his helmet where it’s been discarded beside him, stuffing his hair up underneath as he pulls it on. He tries to buckle it, but he keeps dropping the straps. His fingers won’t close, they’ll only shake.

Kirk finally huffs a sigh and leans forward, grabbing him by one arm and yanking him over, taking the straps in hand and doing the buckle himself, jerking it too tight until the vampire whimpers at the pinch. “You’re fucking useless, bloodsucker. Go on. Serve your fucking country, like the rest of us. We’ll see you later. Hey. We made it, huh? This time we keep breathing. Well, we keep breathing, anyways. You keep… uh, whatever it is you do.”

The vampire nods, slowly, eyes searching Kirk’s for some hint of something other than his hatred.

For the first time since they were shipped out, Kirk’s expression does soften.

Just a little bit.

“Come on, bloodfuck.” He says the insulting name almost like an endearment. “Don’t look like that. You’ll be all right,” He says, voice low, giving the vampire’s chin a playful little shake. “It’s just the artillery, just a little scrap. They brought out their big guns, and look at us, we still got our limbs, ain’t we? You still got those chompers. Hell, none of us wet ourselves this time, so we’re doing a sight better than last time.”

The other soldiers chuckle, a little. Someone mumbles, “That was once.”

“Oh, hush it, Fallows, nobody looks down on you for it, everybody’s a bit crackers the first time they get shelled.”

“Yeah, Fallows, we’ve all been there.”

“Listen, after my first time it took me three weeks to go to the latrine without a buddy just in case, you’re all right.”

The soldier who must be Fallows shifts, but he half-smiles, a little, comforted by the camaraderie around him. Tristan’s heart hurts, wishing he could be part of it, not kept apart by the curse in his blood.

A different soldier - Tristan thinks the man’s name is Davies - pulls out a canteen of what is probably supposed to be water and almost certainly isn’t. The American army doesn’t imbibe, officially, but Tristan’s never seen an officer who didn’t look the other way after a battle if his men needed liquid courage to make it to the next one.

“I, I, I’m scared,” The vampire whispers. A tear trickles down the cleared path along the dirt in his face, following the trails of those he’s cried before. Kirk looks at him and rubs his thumb over the vampire’s high cheekbone, smearing dirt back over. Like trying to fill in a dried riverbank. “I’m, um, sc-scared of the sounds, Kirk.”

“So’re the rest of us. Fritz never does it halfway, does he? I get you. We’re still here, for now.” Kirk pats the side of the vampire’s face, almost gently, and then pushes him backwards with a sudden resurgence of his usual careless violence. “Now go find the crump-hole Fritz made of the others and pull out the wounded.”

He has to do this. It’s his job, and it’s the only reason he hasn’t been staked out like the ones who refused to go willingly. The vampire swallows, nodding slowly, and turns away. He has to jog down the narrow line of the trench, past rows of soldiers who watch him with dulled eyes that stare far, far past him. Twice he pops his head up, just for a second, to get a better look at where he should go.

Ahead of him, the No Man’s Land stretches. It’s a hellscape, cratered and with any hint of greenery long gone. A morass of mud and the still-standing stump of the occasional tree. There are dead men out there, he can smell them. Some new dead, mostly old, the ones that aren’t worth pulling back behind the lines, not yet. Some wounded men who call for water, for help, but who mostly call for their mothers.

Tristan would call for his, too, if he thought it would help.

There’s dead Germans out there, he can see their uniforms on the prone, still bodies. Some of their wounded cry mama, mutti, mutterchen. A few cry papa, vaterchen. Tristan has seen enough dead - some by his own hand, though he never wanted to kill anyone, William didn’t tell him how not to and he had to find that out on his own - to know that nearly everyone, at the end, thinks finally of who they love most.

Someone cries, in a broken voice, “Cady, help me,” and Tristan closes his eyes against the pleading in the sound.

Seems like more Germans than Americans, this time, and he might see some French, too. It’s hard to tell, with the smoke is still rolling over the land.

He hopes they don’t try to gas each other again. It doesn’t affect the vampires, but he’s seen too many men die choking on their own lungs already, he’s ready to never see such a thing ever again.

He sighs, gets back down into the trench, and keeps moving.

The ranks thin out, and he finds himself utterly alone for the last few hundred yards.

There’s a brief burst of gunfire that has him shaking again, flinching and stumbling into a depression underneath the top, where a soldier might sleep at night. The vampire stays there, curled up tight staring in fear, until the gunfire subsides.

Once it fades, he hears the barking.

Ambulance dogs.

“Medics! We have wounded!” A man’s voice cries, rough-edged. “We need help!” Ahead of him, the trench collapses in on itself, blown apart by shells. A soldier’s rifle lays in the mud, bayonet glinting faintly. Next to it, a photograph, a young man and woman standing next to each other, dotted with dirt. The woman has a slight smile on her face, and the young man’s arms are around her waist. They look happy.

The vampire’s throat closes as he looks at it. She’s very pretty, he thinks. She’ll be very sad when she hears that her soldier isn’t coming home. He wishes he had any photographs of his parents.

If he must be damned to never see them again, even in Eternity, it seems doubly unfair that he can’t even find an image of them to remember them by. He’s sure there were photos taken at the island where they were processed, but those photos weren’t for them. They were kept by the men and women who barked orders at the young Tristan and his parents as they went through the line.

“We have living wounded!” The man calls again, much closer, and the vampire jolts back into motion. He picks up the photograph and tucks it into one of the pouches at his waist, next to a small vial of plain alcohol he uses to wash out wounds.

He can see the dogs up top as they dig, paws burying themselves with incredible speed in loosened mud as their handlers move next to them, encouraging them. Every dog wears a big white square patch with a cross on each side, marking them as ambulance dogs. The vampire has a patch on his left arm like that, marked with a cross for medic - and a V to make sure he is always known for what he is by anyone who sees him.

As if the fangs don’t give him away. As if the way his eyes look in the darkness isn’t a clue all its own.

There’s a high-pitched bark and a shout of triumph, and the vampire looks up and sees a man so covered in dirt he seems less human than golem being helped to his feet. He’s miraculously uninjured except for having been half-buried in mud.

“Let’s go, soldier,” The dog’s handler says, and then moves quickly away. The soldier follows him, shuffling more than walking, staring around in amazement that he’s still alive.

The Germans could fire again at any moment, of course, and the vampire finds himself frozen, staring up into the yellow-tinged dark sky. There’s a low rumble, a whistle and boom, and he flinches before he realizes the sound is so distant that it must mean shelling much further down the line than he is.

That doesn’t mean what they’re doing is safe.

He’s still staring up at the sky, waiting for the barrage to begin again, when something closes tight around his wrist and he jolts to the side with a cry of shock and fear.

It’s a hand.

A hand, reaching out from the mud. Dirt is ground into every knuckle, under the torn fingernails, into the callouses worn into the pads of his fingers. The hand grasps wildly, blindly, trying to find anything to hold onto.

There’s a living man buried under the mud.

The vampire has to work his throat to find his voice, and when he does he cries out, “We, we, we have living wounded! Living wounded! B-buried, buried, help! I need help!”

There’s a flurry of movement as the vampire lurches forward, gripping onto the hand and digging with his other, trying to give the man who must be in there some reassurance that he is felt, seen, found.

Trying to give him some air before whatever he’s got runs out.

One of the other medics hops down and lands roughly on their feet next to him. It’s another vampire, one that Tristan has never seen before. They’re older-seeming, with straggly long dark-blond hair barely held back in a plait down their back. The vampires aren’t usually allowed to speak to one another for fear that they’d plan some sort of mutiny, and so the other medic is silent other than a soft grunt, digging into the dirt with their bare hands with inhuman rapidity, uncaring for the possibility of injuries because they simply cannot hurt their muscles any longer.

Tristan feels the hand he’s holding squeeze and he gives two squeezes in return. We’ve got you, just hold on, hold your breath, just a little longer.

Eventually the frantic work of the other medic reveals dirtied blond hair, helmet-less, marked with mud and blood in equal measure from a cut they can see as the man’s forehead is revealed. Then his eyes open wide and very blue, he gasps in air.

“Pl-please,” He manages, his voice a rasp. “Please, help me-”

Tristan exhales an unnecessary breath in relief, and smiles. “Hold, hold, hold on, hold on, we’ve got you, soldier.”

The man sees his fangs but he’s too full of the rush of adrenaline at the prospect that he has been saved from suffocation to be scared of them. Instead he starts to cry, weeping and holding onto Tristan with a bone-crushing grip.

The other medic hisses as they dig in and find a dead soldier on top of the living one. This one has the telltale slightly-open eyes of someone long gone, body still warm. There’s an awful caved-in look to one side of his head that Tristan refuses to allow himself to see. “Must have protected him that way,” The vampire notes, coldly informative, uncaring. “Dead took the brunt of the blows. One lucky man, one unlucky one. Flip of a coin, living or dying.” They sound like they don’t care at all.

Tristan wonders how long they’ve been a medic. If they maybe felt more at the beginning.

The smell of blood moves through the air like a bubbling stew, making Tristan’s mouth water. He holds back as best he can, pulling to help dislodge the survivor from the dirt his compatriots have died in.

Some of them still haven’t yet - the vampires can scent the difference between dead and living, and there are more soldiers still breathing under the rubble. He can smell that some are so wounded they won’t last long. Others, though, they’ll get out in time.

Tristan doesn’t look at the slack expression of the dead soldier whose body kept this one alive as he is revealed. The survivor comes free - first his shoulders, then his arms come up to grip tightly around Tristan’s waist. His torso is revealed, his hips…

It’s only when they finally get him fully freed, laying on the ground, that Tristan realizes one of his legs is… wrong. Bent wrong, nearly blasted off. He swallows at the sight.

“We, we, we need a stretcher,” Tristan says, frowning. The soldier groans, as if only now beginning to feel the pain of the shattered bones from his thigh down to his foot. “He, he, he can’t walk. He’s gonna lose the, um, the the the leg.”

“God, no,” The soldier pleads to no one in particular. “Please, no, not my leg…”

“Hush. Better that than your eyes or your face, mouthbreather.” The other vampire launches themself at the side of the trench, clambering back up - only for there to be a sudden burst of new gunfire, and Tristan stares up in panic as the vampire’s body jolts as three bullets pass through them.

They stumble backwards, briefly, then bare their fangs in the direction the gunfire came from and hold up their hands with middle fingers raised high above their head. They give a loud, half-mad trill of laughter.

“Have at it, Huns, I’m already dead!”

Then they turn on their heels, moving at a rapid jog towards the medical tents nearby. There are bullet holes in the back of their uniform, new fresh ones alongside several that have already been patched up from earlier hits.

“Please, I have to-... have to go home,” The survivor of the bombardment says in a whisper, and Tristan turns back to him, nodding slowly. The man’s face is pinched with agony, but… but he’s familiar. “I can’t die here, fangs. I can’t.”

“Don’t, um, don’t don’t don’t worry… you’ll go home, you will.” He doesn’t know that, not really, but it’s what every soldier wants to hear, and the doughboy beside him lets out a breath of relief and smiles, a little, trusting him. Tristan hitches in a breath, and digs into his belt-bag, pulling the photograph out. It’s the same young man as the subject of the photo, his sweetheart next to him. Maybe she’ll see him again after all.

He holds it out. He sees the soldier blink, struggling to focus.

Tristan clears his throat. “I, I, I… um, I found this.”

The soldier grabs it with his free hand and gives a hysterical, relieved laugh, pulling it to his lips and giving it a kiss. “Marta,” he breathes. “Oh… thank you, fangs. Thanks for finding it.” he looks up at Tristan with a bright smile, teeth seeming terribly white in his dirt-coated face.

They are so rarely kind to him, the soldiers.

The vampire closes his eyes against a new rush of tears. He whispers, “Look, look, look at the, the, the photo for just a moment for me,” and lifts the soldier’s wrist to his mouth. The soldier knows the score - he doesn’t even go tense. He's probably been bitten a few times before.

When the vampire sinks his teeth in, it’s as gentle as possible. He takes little blood, only pushes venom into the wounds until the soldier’s body goes limp and relaxed, his eyes still locked on the photo of the woman he wishes badly to go home to.

“Tell, tell, tell me, um, about… about, about Marta,” The vampire says, glancing up. He can hear further shouting. The other vampire’s voice, which means help is on the way. “While we wait for the stretcher.”

The soldier’s eyes drift shut.

“She’s… she’s nineteen. Preacher’s daughter, her ma and two sisters died from the flu this year. She’s got four little brothers who made it, though. We were married just before I was sent to basic training, last fall… Hey.” The soldier looks right at him, meets his eyes. “What’s your name, fangs?”

No one ever asks him that.

He blinks once, twice, three times. “What?”

“Your name. What can I call you?”

“Uh, Tristan, um, Medical, um, Un-dead Medical Private Tristan Higgs.”

“Huh. I’m Dennis. Just… I don’t care for all the titles we get. Just say Dennis. Tired of bein’ called by what I am and not who.”

He nearly laughs. He knows the feeling. “Nice, um, nice to meet you, Den, Dennis.”

“You, too, Tristan. You’re Irish, right?”

Tristan nods, a little, his smile widening slightly. “Was. Been in New York since, ah, before the turning of the, um, the the century.”

“Were you a vampire when you came here?”

Tristan swallows, looking away. “No.”

“Oh.” Dennis falls silent, for a moment, then squeezes his hand. “I’m sorry. Didn’t mean to bring on bad memories.”

“That’s, um, that’s all right.” Tristan settles onto the muddy ground, with the body of the soldier who didn’t make it visible in the dug-out part of the cave-in, and listens. The other soldier, he thinks, likely would have his own people waiting for him, who now must be told the terrible news - but this man, Dennis, he’ll go home to his Marta, one-legged but alive.

Dennis never lets go of his hand.

Whenever his face starts to show his pain again, Tristan lifts the man’s wrist back to his mouth, fills him with venom again, and asks him more questions about home.

Dennis thanks him for it, every time.

He says Tristan reminds him of his own brother, who’s still back home working the dairy farm he grew up on. “He’s always been better with the cows than people, anyway. He’d hate all this racket,” Dennis murmurs.

“I, I, I hate it, too.” Tristan smiles, just a little. “I’d say you, um, you get used to it, but…”

“You don’t,” Dennis says, heavily.

“Right. You… no, um, you don’t.”

Tristan hopes Dennis gets to go home to his pretty Marta, his brother and the cows, and never come back to this hell the rest of them are trapped in until its bitter end. He hopes, deeper than that and in a secret place within himself, that he will redeem some of the damnation of what he was turned into by doing as much good as he can while he’s here.

He can’t go home.

Home is people, not a place, and his are long, long gone.

But maybe if he suffers for the good of the living, he’ll be seen as redeemed enough by God and His angels to be allowed to see his mother and father again.

@mylifeisonthebookshelf @insaneinthepaingame @keeper-of-all-the-random-things @burtlederp @finder-of-rings @endless-whump @newandfiguringitout @astrobly @gonna-feel-that-tomorrow @pretty-face-breaker @doveotions @boxboysandotherwhump @oops-its-whump @cubeswhump @whump-tr0pes @downriver914 @whumptywhumpdump @whumpiary @orchidscript @nonsensical-whump @outofangband @what-a-whump

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justxright · 3 years

Text

Zeke Yeager x Reader - “Traitor”

Chapter 3 - “A Flash of Thunder”

Summary : It’s been weeks since you willingly left with The Beast Titan in order to survive in exchange for information on the Scouts and whatever strategy they had. Over time you had grown close to the Beast Titan, also known as Zeke Yeager, whom told you the truth about everything in the world. Now as battle grows closer to you and Zeke, you have to make a decision whether or not you’ll leave with him or go back in the arms of your older brother, Levi.

Warnings : Spoilers for season 3-4, gore, mentions of SMUT, and a bit of Stockholm syndrome.

The tent you slept in grew cold as the wind lingered on your backside side while the wind crept in through the tent’s entrance. Drowsy and half naked you turned over to notice the empty spot next to you. Where’d Zeke go?... Usually the man was always asleep next to you keeping you warm, but suddenly it seemed he had vanished.

The cold wind froze your bare skin and you quickly reached somewhere in the tent to search for your sweater. Well, his sweater. You hastily threw the sweater on and crawled towards the entrance of the tent. Peaking your head out, you could see the fire was lit and the smell of black tea seemed to be brewing, or at least that’s what you thought it was. Zeke never really told you what is was.

There he was. The man you had been staying with for nearly a month now was there sitting on one of the boxes. However, he was not alone. Your eyes widened as you saw them. Reiner and Bertholdt. They were back so soon? Reiner noticed you peaking your head out and slowly waved. “Good morning Y/n. Sorry, Zeke didn’t want to wake you.”

You shook your head and coughed awkwardly. “Oh no, it’s no worries. It’s still a little dark out so I figured it was still nighttime.”

It was so weird seeing Reiner and Bertholdt like this. All this time, and you wouldn’t have guessed it. The Colossal and the Armored Titan were them this entire time. You had only found out when Zeke told you everything the second day you had been with him. It made you reconsider everything about going home. Eren was the ‘Coordinate’ or the ‘Founding Titan’. Something they do desperately needed in order to return home to Marley.

It only broke your heart even further the day Reiner and Bertholdt came back to Zeke with Ymir. The minute she had seen you though, she talked about how Levi had so desperately wanted to find you. “Why are you here Y/n?! Don’t tell me you’re a Titan shifter too!”

Visible confusion spread across your face that day. She was a Titan shifter like them? No it can’t be. Reiner had her keep her mouth shut while he continued to escort her away. “Shut up, she's no titan shifter but let’s just say she’s traded it up.”

Ymir scrunched her eyebrows in confusion and shock. “W-Wait! Hold on now-! Y/n?” Suddenly being pulled away, Pieck had held your hand and managed to get to to walk away. “Ah, don’t worry now Y/n. I promise that things will be okay. You’re making the right decision here...”

“Y-Yeah...” Ymir’s yelling and bickering echoed as you walked away from her. Levi was mentioned and you knew that might drive Zeke nuts. It certainly drove you nuts. Hearing that he was so desperately looking for you while you willingly stayed because you thought this was the best decision for humanity. Let’s face it, the people living within the walls really did have no future if Titans were to roam the Island forever. Or perhaps maybe if Eren handed over the coordinate, Marley would negotiate and leave this island to rot powerless. Either way, you also didn’t want to leave Zeke.

Suddenly snapping back into reality, you left your thoughts alone. What’s done is done. You loved Levi, but he didn’t seem to care too much for humanity and you did. Now you only hope that he’d understand your reasoning if you guys were to cross paths again. Turning slowly from his seat, Zeke turned his head and smirked. Seeing the bruises around your neck made him want to go back into that tent and finish what he had started. He knew you’d grow to like him, and he definitely grew to like you after you got pass the skittish, timid phase with him. “Good morning darling, care to join us?”

Butterflies seemed to flutter around in your stomach as he looked back at you. Nodding your head, you got up from the tent and walked out to sit by Zeke, who immediately threw his arm about you. Visible hickeys were littered around your neck and you felt Bertholdt”s eyes stare them down. Yes, it was slightly embarrassing but you knew it was exactly what Zeke wanted. He wanted everyone to know that you were his in all ways possible. Pieck even teased you the other day that Zeke won’t ever neck your neck clear up again.

The smell of tea and honey filled the air while the sound of pouring liquid accompanied it. “Here you go darling.” Zeke handed you a cup of tea, the warmth of it in your hands made the rest of your body heat up. You took slow sips, but little by little since the tea turned out to be broiling hotter than it usually is. As time went by, you listened to the three men talk about Annie and the reveal of her identity. Honestly, the reality of it al seemed so surreal and it was almost impossible for you to wrap your head around. Titans eat humans in desperate hopes of regaining their humanity. Just like Ymir ate Marcel... and gained his humanity and powers.

“War Cheif Zeke.” A distorted voice came from below the wall that made you jump in your seat. The rapid sounds of footsteps echoed as the three men, including yourself, ran to the edge of the wall. There she was, or at least the titan form of her. Pieck had grown to be one of your good friends. The kindest being you had ever met and despite being a “devil” from the Island, there was never a moment where she wasn’t kind to you. Zeke especially trusted her with you. The relationship between him and Pieck was solid. They just had that brother-sister bond that made you feel relaxed. Something you and Levi had, only he was much more blunt and rough about your feelings. “Enemy troops are approaching. They’ve reached the foot.”

Slowly, your throat went dry when you heard her words. They’ve reached the foot...enemies. All your friends are enemies. Right, you weren’t on their side anymore, and they don’t even know it. Levi doesn’t know it. Had he given you up for dead yet? No, that was very unlike him. Eren, Mikasa, and Armin don’t even know what’s coming for them. All your friends would no longer be your friends after this battle. But you figured if you finally got your hands on Eren, then maybe this could all end. After all, you finally saw light in Marley’s point of view after Zeke had repeatedly told you over and over again what their plans were.

There was a slight pause before Zeke nodded at Pieck and took you, Reiner and Bertholdt back to the fire pit. He poured you all a fresh batch of tea in each cup before clanking the cups together as if it were a celebration. “My brave warriors.” He spoke triumphly. “It’s time to settle this here and finish our mission once and for all.” Reiner and Bertholdt both seemed relaxed and prepared, but deep down you knew they were both terrified and you know that Zeke didn’t want you involved. You would be staying on Pieck’s gear with the rest of the boxes so that you’d be safe. In case of emergencies too, Zeke allowed you to fix the ODM gear he had taken from Miche while he was with you. That way, in case something happened to Pieck or himself, you could escape.

Everyone slowly took a sip from their teas, sipping slowly from the yummy sweet boiling hot tea, until Zeke had startled all of you. “Ah-! Hot!” He covered his mouth and looked at you slowly. “Ah, sorry. Perhaps I boiled the tea too harshly. Careful dear.”

Reiner raised an eyebrow and grinned. “Oi, what about us chief?” He chuckled and nudged Bertholdt.

Zeke rolled his eyes and turned to give him his famous bored look. “Oh please, I couldn’t care less about you being hurt. You’ll end up regenerating anyways.” Standing behind you, he suddenly put his hand on your shoulders and began to lightly massage them. “My dear Y/n is not able to regenerate. Which is why she’ll be staying with Pieck. I will not risk her getting hurt.”

“Oh please. I’ve seen her fight with my own eyes.” Reiner crossed his arms and spun the liquid around in his cup, probably a learning habit from Zeke. “She’s a killing machine.”

Blushing, you giggled lightly and shook your head. “Oh stop, you’re exaggerating Reiner...” Your voice was like silk to Zeke, but he didn’t like the way you softly spoke at Reiner. Nor did he like that he was praising your skill, making you want to go back into the field and risking your life. Absolutely not. Zeke will not allow it. “Hey Reiner... shut it. Y/n will not risk her life for our plan. How many more people have to die for your mistakes?”

Your heart completely stopped, and you saw the life from Reiner’s eyes drain while Bertholdt just stood there completely lost for words. Those words definitely hit Reiner hard, but you knew not to interfere with those stories. “Come now, Y/n. We must prepare.” He brought you away from them slowly and back towards the tent. Once you were fully in, he took you by your chin and kissed you softly. “I’m sorry if that was intense back there. I just can’t risk you getting hurt.”

The usual familiar feeling of your face being caressed by his fingertips made you bite your lip. “Oh no... I understand.” You took your hand then rested on his cheek. “But I also don’t want to lose you either... So be safe?”

Zeke’s heart raced as your fingertips touched his face and your gentle look stared at him. It was a feeling that no one ever gave him, and in his mind he promised he’d be safe. He would end this all so that he could finally bring you back home with him and end this Paradis Island nightmare. Sure it’s been nearly a month or more, but he was certain about you and he’d do anything to make you his. No woman at home ever suited him. So ignorant and void of the world. They either cared about his title as a war chief or his Eldian blood that he carries. Most Marley women did not want him because of that.

He remembered the horror and heartache of his former friend Tom, who had a wife, child and stable family. However, it fall apart because his wife had found out he was an Eldian, and because their son carried his blood, she had killed herself and the innocent child. Zeke feared that if he had a child with a woman from Marley, she might have second thoughts about caring for a child with Eldian blood and might eventually kill them. Afterall, acts like that were not uncommon.

“Oh Y/n, my dear...” His voice grew softer with you as the days went by. “I know I was rough on you that first week, but I’d do anything for you. Honestly, you’ve stolen away a part of me that you’ll always have.” A wave of electricity zapped through him as he finally had full control over you. Never did you ever think twice about the things he said, and you never thought twice about giving all your trust to him. “I will be safe. Don’t you worry.”

Zeke moved in both his hands into your hair and began to caress it, while you gave him a smile of relief. Of course you knew he’d be okay, he is the war chief. Nobody could ever outsmart him. “Now then, go get ready and meet with Pieck at the bottom of the wall. She’ll be waiting.” He leaned in to kiss the top of your head and embraced you in one last hug. “Stay safe, and stay put understand? Then this will finally be over.”

The smell of cigarettes and black honey tea hit you in the face while he embraced you. You prayed and prayed as he held you in his arms. Please be safe... you’d miss the smell of him and you’ll never be able to get it back from if he didn’t survive. “I will be safe, don’t worry.” Your voice echoed in his mind as you mumbled your last words to him. Softly speaking as you always do.

And with that final embrace, Zeke let you go. It was time to end this battle on Paradis Island.

•

The wind grew silent and the earth was too still. Even though you were sitting in a rather comfy box and being transported, you knew the sky and earth would collide and rumble. Zeke’s plan was just all too perfect, and you were about to witness the death of everyone you once held dear in your heart. Pieck stayed out of sight, preparing to roll the boulders to Zeke while you sat in the luggage on her.

Both you and Pieck waited for the signal. Then you heard it. The transformation of Reiner. They found him...

Then it grew quite once more and then you counted.

3...2...1...

Suddenly the ground shook and the scene around you grew brighter than it did before. You looked up from where you were and the sky was blinding yellow. Lighting stuck the Earth, and dozens of Titans appeared with it, surrounding the Scout’s only exit. The center piece of all those titan of course, was the the Beast. It was just as terrifying as you remembered it. The grin spread across its face didn’t help the situation either.

The long arms of the Beast reached out and grabbed the boulder. The position and the pitch itself was all too perfect as Zeke threw the boulder miles towards the wall, and perfectly blocked their only exit. Back and fourth, back and fourth. It felt like hours while you sat in Pieck’s luggage, watching and seeing her collect boulders for Zeke. Until you heard that familiar roar of his titan. The roar you heard when he took you with him to the outskirts of Wall Rose and made you watch him turn Connie’s village into Titans.

Suddenly, all of the 2-5cm titans that surrounded the walls began to run full speed at the wall’s entrance in attempt to kill the scouts that were stuck. This is power... Everything was at the mercy of Zeke and nobody else could interfere with it. Oh but it didn’t end there. Zeke picked up the barrel next to you that carried Bertholdt inside, and threw it further into the walls. Good luck...

Zeke just threw in the Cossal Titan and you knew what would happen from there. It was a god of destruction and a part of you prayed that Levi would make it out alive. The other part prayed that he wouldn’t have gotten involved in the first place and stayed to clean the stables back at home.

The last part of you prayed that you wouldn’t have to reunite with him on the battlefield.

Note : I can’t thank you all enough for the positive messages and love that you guys been sending to this story. It baffles me that this story has been sitting in my mind for weeks, and when I finally wrote it out, it got this much love. Seriously thank you guys, I can’t thank you all enough. <3

Tags : @mother-ting-ting

#attack on titan #shingeki no kyojin #zeke yeager #levi ackerman #armin alert #eren yeager #mikasa ackerman #attack on titan zeke #reiner braun #attack on titan x reader #attack on titan zeke x reader #zeke x reader #zeke x you

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strangerquinns · 3 years

Note

14, 21 & 27 with ethan please 🥺

I'm sure whatever you make of this will leave me a sobbing & hyperventilating mess. thank you in advance my queen ❣

"Stop pushing me away!” / “Isn’t this enough?!” / “I thought you were dead!”

I'm going a little AU with this. Reader and Ethan are undercover agents.

prompt list

Ethan moved down the hallway quickly, people rushing around him as the rest of the team got checked from the mission. The luminescent lights above making his eyes hurt with how bright they were. His mind was racing with every possible worse scenario since you were taken away from him. Everything with the mission was going as planned, till the enemy made them, and then it all went to shit. Soon bullets were flying between them, and you were separated from him. You guys were partners and always were to stay together. Which made the other half of him pissed off at you.

"Dolan!" A voice shouted from the other end of the hall causing him to turn around towards the voice. It was his supervisor.

"What happened down there? I thought you had all the right information, it should've been clean!" He spoke in hushed, hurried whispers.

"I don't know, sir. But I am going to find out. I just need to see if Y/L/N is alright."

"They are in surgery," He sighed heavily, "Hit multiple times with bullets, they are rushing to stop the internal bleeding now."

Ethan's heart stopped for a moment and everything about him seemed to fade away. He knew that you were hit, but didn't think it was that bad. Or it was his mind creating false hopes in order to comfort himself.

Hours passed till you were finally brought back from the surgery room. Ethan didn't leave your bedside and made sure to always be watching over you. He needed to be there for you. He needed to make sure that you were ok. But the one time that he did leave your side in order to get another terrible cup of coffee, he heard the alarms. It was a females voice coming over the comms alerting a team to your room.

It was the second time that Ethan was nearly knocked down with fear. He dropped his coffee cup not caring that it was would spill the caffeinated drink all over the floor. Ethan's only concern was getting to you.

When he got to your room all he saw was your doctor and nurses rushing to bring your heart rate back up. The frantic scene in front of him matched the frantic rate at which his heart was racing.

"They are stable for now, but now it's up to them if they wanna wake up or not." The doctor spoke as they looked down towards him.

But when you woke up, after weeks, all Ethan could feel was relief along with anger.

He walked in and saw you propped up in the middle of the hospital bed the soft and familiar beep of the heart monitor. You grimaced towards him, trying to smile when he walked into the room.

"Hey." He spoke slightly with stiffness to his voice, "How are you feeling?"

"Sore," your usually soft voice was hoarse and scratchy. For some reason it made Ethan flinch back slightly.

You were able to read Ethan like the back of your hand. Being partners for years gave you that advantage.

"You're mad." You spoke after looking at him for a while.

"Of course I am mad. I thought you were dead!" He couldn't stop the rise of his voice at the end. The pent-up fear and anger coming out at that moment.

"But I didn't and I am fine." You groaned shifting slightly and feeling the pain on your side. "You don't have to yell at me about it."

"So you don't care that you've had us all sitting on edge of you were gonna make it? Not to mention it was your mistake that has yourself and half the team in the hospital wing."

Your eyes widened slightly as you looked towards him, before sighing heavily "What do you want me to do. I'm sorry ok?"

Ethan rolled his eyes and move up from his seat quickly walking towards the window on the other side of the home. He couldn't look at you he was too angry. But it was more the fear of losing you that really shocked and rocked him.

When you finally came back to work and getting back to missions, things weren't the same with Ethan. He was overprotective out on missions, but the moment the two of you came back with the team, it was like you didn't exist. You would try and speak with him in order to fix whatever issue was between the two of you. But he always walked away from you any time you got close.

"What the fuck is your problem, Dolan!" You screamed towards him, slamming the door behind you the moment the two of you walked back into the briefing room. The moment you saw no one was in but the two of you, you took this as your chance.

"What do you mean?" Ethan spoke turning towards you with a look of annoyance on his face.

"You've been avoiding me. Why?" You asked

But Ethan rolled his eyes and instead walked towards another side of the room. But you quickly walked towards him to catch up.

"Stop pushing me away!" You shouted as you grabbed his shoulder and turned him back around towards you. "We are partners and we're supposed to be working together."

"We are! I am doing my job. Keeping you and the rest of the team safe. But after that job is done I don't have anything else to do with you. Understand?"

"What happened, please Ethan."

"Isn’t this enough?! What more do you need?" He asked, feeling the feelings from before coming back fully.

"Ever since the last mission, we have been acting like I am your worse enemy."

"I am acting like a man whose love of his life was nearly ripped away from him!" Ethan exclaimed. "What else do you expect from me? You nearly died! I have had to deal with that and you wanna come back like nothing has happened!"

You stumbled back from the shock of the words, his eyes shining from unshed tears.

"And I can't do that anymore!" Ethan spoke softer, but still holding anger in his tone. He stared down towards you for a moment before turning on his heel and leaving.

#ethan dolan x reader #ethan dolan angst #ethan dolan concept #ethan dolan blurb #ethan dolan imagine #ethan dolan fanfic

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chalky · 3 years

Text

The Commodification of c!Tubbo

This essay is unnecessary but I think about it too much so here you go

At this point, y’all are probably sick and tired of me rambling about c!Tubbo, as this is about all my original posts are. But, I feel as though this is an important aspect of his character that is either swept under the rug or never given any second glance.

Whether intentionally or not, Tubbo has been constantly commodified by allies and enemies alike (don’t even get me started on the fandom, that’s for a whole other post). Like, throughout the entire story of the Dream SMP, Tubbo has been looked down upon as a yes man, sidekick, or extension of another character who is incapable of making decisions for himself, which is such a degrading thing to experience for so long and explains why his character values himself so little.

This is a long one, heads up!

I want to break up this dehumanization and commodification into three categories:

Tubbo is either a pawn (something to be used), a trophy(something to be owned), or a scapegoat(something to be blamed) to others.

Tubbo Seen as a Pawn:

Wilbur loved Tubbo, but his treatment of him during the Pogtopia arc was definitely sad to see. (Note: Wilbur was spiraling and his mental health was in shambles. He couldn’t help his paranoia and he deserved way better than the ending he got, but that doesn’t absolve the effects of his actions on others). First he took Tubbo on as a spy, a very dangerous role that landed him dead, but throughout Tubbo’s service Wilbur saw him as an obedient pawn, while not a loyal one. A pawn ready to turn to whatever authority figure commanded him best. His remarks about Tubbo being a yes man back this up, and the way he warns Tommy that Tubbo will betray them erases all of Tubbo’s identity and reduces it to that of a spy (again, this is born of Wilburs paranoia, this isn’t his fault).

Dream made it very clear that he regarded Tubbo as lesser than a toy, so obedient and trusting that he wasn’t worth keeping alive because he was so boring to him. The whole speech about Tubbo being worthless wasn’t even directed at him despite him being right there. Dream only addressed Tommy as if he was the one whose opinion on Tubbos fate mattered.

Jack Manifold literally used Tubbo’s trust to attempt to kill Tommy, saying that he was a sweet guy but way too gullible. No better way to treat someone as a pawn to further ones own agenda than by literally using them. (Him talking about how he’d be there to comfort Tubbo after the assisted murder of his best friend still mildly disturbs me).

Quackity managed to talk Tubbo into going through with the Butcher Army, using Tubbo’s power to further Quackity’s agenda (which, by Quackity’s own admission, did not revolve around the protection of L’manburg.) Quackity didn’t care that Tubbo was against violence, and pushed his concerns to the side in favor of his own ideas and kept comparing Tubbo to Schlatt whenever he acted in a way he disagreed with.

Speaking of, THE CONSTANT DISREGARD OF HIS DECISIONS AS PRESIDENT. His Cabinet never listened to him and lowkey every stream they had together was a bit frustrating to me (I’m also a sensitive bitch). They didn’t respect him in any way and undermined his authority UNTIL THEY NEEDED HIM TO SAVE EVERYONE’S LIFE. (Elaborated on in Scapegoat Category).

Technically, as much as I am a Tommy apologist, Tommy’s constant insistence that the Disc War needed to involve Tubbo kind of fits under this category. As much as Tubbo was happy to help, his involvement wasn’t really necessary, but Tommy needed someone to help him. This involvement nearly resulted in his willing death.

The only reason Dream even wanted to kill Tubbo, on top of perceiving him as useless, was to hurt Tommy and give him something of a “hero origin story” like Batman and his parents or Spider-Man and Uncle Ben. So, literally by Dream’s definition, he wanted to fridge Tubbo.

We could refer to Wilbur assigning Tubbo to presidency as Wilbur using him to make the explosion of L’manburg hurt more, but that feels like a stretch to me.

This may be a stretch, but after Tubbo is executed and Tommy starts getting mad at Technoblade, Wilbur eggs Tommy on by saying “Think of what he did to Tubbo,” while Tubbo is literally right there. His emotions on the event doesn’t matter to Wilbur, only how it impacted Tommy.

Tubbo Seen as a Prize/Trophy

The constant referral of Tubbo as something to be owned by someone, like during Wilburs speech of “he’s your Tubbo!”, is a bit off putting though I don’t think it’s meant to be malicious. Very rarely is the sentiment reversed, seen when Ghostbur gave Tubbo the Your Tommy compass, furthering the idea that Tubbo is an object, something to be sought after and secured with little opportunity for him to own something himself. It’s always “Tommy’s Tubbo”. Also when Schlatt gloated about having “his very own Tubbo”.

Tommy shows more possessive behaviors when dealing with the discovery of Ranboo and Tubbo’s marriage, asking about permission and insisting that Ranboo stole Tubbo from him. I’m sure this is subconscious, I know Tommy values Tubbo as a person but he still reduces Tubbo to an object to guard because he treasures his friend.

Another more vague example would be the fact that Schlatt exiled Wilbur and Tommy, but kept Tubbo as his right hand man even though it was clear he was on POG2020’s side. It was a way to insult Tommy, a way for Schlatt to add salt to the wound by keeping his best friend.

The Dream Team captured Tubbo very early into the Revolution, keeping him in a hole and holding him for ransom (this could be played off for laughs, I just remembered it). They also burned down his base, unrelated really but I remember it.

We could also count the way that Dream kept threatening to kill Tubbo if Tommy didn’t return the disc, but this feels like a mixture of pawn and prize, while still dehumanizing as it compares his value to that of music discs.

Yes, I am going to take c!Tommy joking about killing Michael to get Tubbo and Ranboo to break up so he can get Tubbo back seriously. The way he glared at Michael while holding an axe was just for the stream to see, if it was a joke I feel like he would have said it out loud. Even if it is a joke, laughing about taking something Tubbo loves away just to ruin his relationships is a bit yikes and frames Tubbo as something to be won back. You can ignore this if you didn’t see that moment as canon, but there are plenty of signs pointing to this being in character. (Also to be noted, Tubbo didn’t want to show Michael to Tommy, so Tommy ignored him and asked Ranboo instead, who immediately showed Tommy to Michael despite Tubbo’s clear worries)

Tubbo seen as a Scapegoat

His cabinet flip flopped back and forth on the decision to exile Tommy every five seconds. Whenever they spoke with Tubbo, they were all “You’re right! We’re going to listen to you! We have to do what’s right!” and then they hear a half baked plan and completely switch up on what they already agreed to do. (This happened twice. One at the sit down meeting where Tommy revealed Spirit and the cabinet joined Tommy in his mocking, only to blame him for how the meeting ended. Twice at the exile). So when Tubbo had to follow the original plan to, you know, make sure their country wasn’t put under lock and key until every citizen was eventually killed, his cabinet acted so shocked and betrayed and he was Schlatt and a dictator. It’s very true that he went against their plan (THAT THEY MADE FIVE MINUTES BEFOREHAND AFTER HAVING ALREADY AGREED TO THE FIRST PLAN FOR DAYS), but the way they treated him afterwards, as if he was a vile person for keeping his country safe, heavily impacted Tubbo’s mental state for a long time after. What I’m saying is Tubbo was set up to be the villain in that scenario, accidentally by his allies, and purposefully by Dream.

Tubbo was blamed for the destruction of L’manburg by Dream and a few others (also himself)

TUBBO IS CONSTANTLY BLAMED FOR THE BUTCHER ARMY ARC DESPITE IT BEING COMPLETELY THOUGHT OF AND LEAD BY QUACKITY (This is predominately fandom based).

The full blame for Tommy’s exile has rested on Tubbo (I will never forget Tommy calling him a monster), despite the fact he was manipulated and backed into a corner by Dream. Even when everyone has come to understand that Tommy was manipulated by Dream, the same doesn’t go for Tubbo and he’s hit with “imagine exiling your best friend” jokes many times.

Wilbur puts the decision of blowing people up at the festival on Tubbo’s shoulders, absolving him of the blame.

Schlatt made Tubbo tear down the L’manburg walls and the important signs so he could have to deal with the blame (though Quackity took the fall for this).

This is more theory based, but I fully believe Wilbur made Tubbo president right in front of Techno to egg him on to attack L’manburg. Since Tubbo would be the president, he would take the full brunt of Techno’s wrath (and he and Tommy did), and the destruction fell onto him.

So! With my text evidence we can see a recurring pattern in the way that Tubbo has been used by many people over the history of the server without much regard for his feelings. There are very few times when people besides Tommy ask how Tubbo feels about a situation, leaving him to his dark thoughts without anybody caring. Even during the Final Disc War, when Tubbo was literally moments from death, nobody asks how he is. Nobody (except Quackity once) checks up on him, and he builds up his community by himself. Until Ranboo came along, and I am not overexaggerating this, nobody was with Tubbo to support him. He had no support system and nobody cared. They just assume that he is always fine and if he wasn’t, it isn’t their place to intervene. Tubbo is just not respected, feared, or acknowledged unless he has someone by his side, or unless he’s doing something bad in which case he’s unhinged and evil and sure to have a villain arc.

This is just something to find interesting:

The only few characters Tubbo is actively involved with that hasn’t looked down on him as a sidekick or an object has been Foolish, Puffy, Ranboo and Technoblade. You could make an argument of how Technoblade referring to him as “government” could be dehumanizing but I don’t think I’ve actually seen him do that in character? I could be wrong though. Really, Technoblade takes him seriously, but way more seriously than c!Tubbo warrants. Like, he’s looking for a tyrant to beat up and Tubbo is literally just a guy with a lot of issues struggling to keep a handle on his cabinet, which I find funny. But, jokes aside, Technoblade saw Tubbo as a legitimate threat during his presidency and is respectfully cautious of him and his nukes presently, which is surprising to me. Ranboo adores Tubbo and all of his chaos that people are unaware of because they don’t get to know him well enough. Puffy just wants the best for all the kids of the server and knows how to be respectful of their feelings, and Foolish is respectful of Tubbo, if a bit annoyed and intimidated by him.

The point of this essay is just to show that there is a pattern to these things. This is how Tubbo is treated, this is why Tubbo is prepared to die for whatever because because he doesn’t feel he’s worth anything while alive, and this is why it’s frustrating to see characters call him a follower, pawn, or yes man. And here’s the thing: I DONT KNOW WHY THEY TREAT HIM LIKE THIS??? Why him? I can’t really find out why this started to happen.

To sum some things up, no I don’t think every character who treats him poorly is completely evil. Again, some of this seems to be subconscious, some of this could be argued to be OOC, I just wanted to bring this pattern to light.

#dream smp #tubbo #meta #tubbo appreciation #character analysis #jschlatt #dreamwastaken #I said I’d do an essay #here’s the essay

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deceasedanddesist · 3 years

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eyes off you ( hermione granger )

this is for kelly’s 3k writing challenge!! @anchoeritic ily kells<3

pairing: hermione granger x slytherin!reader ( half blood prince )

gender neutral! reader ( if there is a mistake or i accidentally used she/her pronouns let me know and ill fix it! )

warnings: small mentions of abuse at home, other than that just fluff and awkwardness.

notes: inspired by the song ‘eyes off you’ by prettymuch, the lyrics are bolded and italicized. y/n is the biggest simp. please ignore my grammar mistakes and my horrendous sentence structure. this also gives off major jily vibes, so do what you will with that information. I kinda went off with this I'm so sorry if it starts to get boring. images are from pinterest.

word count - 1.9k

hermione granger was a stubborn girl, that was one thing you knew for sure. when the two of you first met she had been adamant on hating your guts, excessive flirting and all. it was your persistence is what really got through to her; like starting to hang out in the library because you knew she would be there, and helping her pick up her books when some asshole seventh year—adorning the same infamous emerald green you did—tripped her up in the hall ( although not before threatening the bugger in her honour first ).

at the end of the day, the little acts of service were the things that made hermione swallow her pride and finally go on a damn date with you. at first, harry and ron were in utter shock that the girl was even considering going on a date with “the enemy” as they oh-so-subtly put it. but she just told them they were being overly dramatic, and that their input into who she decides to date was simply inadequate. so was it ever the surprise that one day when you finally worked up the courage to ask her, she actually said yes.

“are you serious?” you had expressed your complete disbelief of the words you just heard come out of the curly haired girls mouth.

“yes y/n, i am dead serious.” she had echoed back to you, looking thoroughly amused.

you were astonished, the girl that you quite frankly couldn’t take your eyes off of since fifth year actually agreed to go out with you. the gryffindor girl specifically that you had set your sights on, ignoring the warnings from your friends and backlash from your family, it had all paid off. becoming more defiant with your family last summer was no easy deed, but you knew the yelling and even the hitting was better than whatever they were scheming up for you this summer. lord voldemort was getting even closer to making sure he had a solid, fucked up, but loyal fanbase and you knew you would soon be a part of it if you didn’t get your shit together. you pretty much had a foolproof plan to get the hell out of your psycho household, you just needed to wait for the right moment to act on it.

amidst all of this, you knew it was dangerous to get involved with a muggle born, and you knew you were being selfish by risking yours and hermione’s lives. but there was something about her. the way she would make you feel when your insistent nagging got her lips to turn up just a little bit, or when you did something particularly embarrassing and finally got a boisterous laugh to erupt from her mouth in the middle of potions ( snape was not happy with the two of you ).

so you knew it was dangerous, you really did. but as soon as you saw hermione in the corridor right outside of the slytherin common rooms, waiting for you like you had anxiously asked her to after dinner yesterday, you knew you were down bad. you knew you were down bad because as soon as you saw her face drop when draco malfoy approached her, your heart lurched and you basically sprinted to where she was standing. she was in the middle of telling malfoy to shut up when you slid up beside her and threw an arm around her shoulder ( because protective instincts.... duh! ), somehow managing to simultaneously tell him to “sod off” and flip him the bird while hermione sunk into your side like there's no place she’d rather be.

as the two of you ran off, you couldn't help but mutter into her ear “mione, i'm not sure.....but i think his father will be hearing about this.”

you had a feeling that the laugh she let out was one you’d be hearing in your dreams for a while.

“so, where would you like to take me y/n.” she spoke, the air of the previous laughter still heard in her voice.

“tell me anything you wanna do.”

she hummed “i don't know. how about the three broomsticks?”

while you were mulling it over, she slipped her hand in yours. your head immediately turned to meet her eyes.

there's no touch or feeling

pleasure or pain

anything like the way you're runnin' through my veins

the sudden affection had you choked up, and you had to clear your throat before continuing “um, that sounds great.”

as soon as the consent left your lips she was dragging you up the road and into the warmth of the pub, where madame rosmerta greeted the two of you at the front door. hands still intertwined, you ordered two butterbeer before wandering off into a booth. it was cozy, and you found yourself ravishing in the feeling of it all; going on hogsmeade dates, holding hands, and curling up in a booth with your drinks. it wasn’t long before you and hermione were mindlessly chatting about anything and everything, falling so deeply into conversation. only breaking out when you make her laugh, or when you go speechless at the broad smile that completely lights up her face, something that you noticed was specifically reserved for silly stories about harry and ron or her parents. you hoped that someday she would be able to talk about you with that marvellous smile on her face.

“you’re staring.” she looked adorably embarrassed at the sentiment, heat rising to her cheeks.

“I just can't take my eyes off of you.” it was a bold ( albeit true ) statement, and hermione swore to merlin you looked like you never meant any other utterance more.

“that's very generous of you, but i'm afraid i'm not that attractive.”

you looked at her in complete disbelief, “okay, okay, i’m going to wholeheartedly disregard what you just said,” taking a pause for dramatic effect “because you are the single most beautiful girl i've ever laid my eyes on, hermione granger.”

if the girl wasn’t blushing before, she was now. the way she was scrunching up her nose was the cutest, and you found her obvious inability to take a compliment quite charming. it actually boosted your own confidence, and you found yourself wanting to shower her with praises for the rest of your life just to see her reaction over and over again.

“what?” you teased, a sly smile making its way onto your face, “don't tell me potter and co deprive you of the flattery you deserve.”

the way she tilted her head and had her eyes narrowed ever so slightly told you everything you needed to know, she watched as your eyes widened in shock but shook it off because of the awkward air that was suddenly formed over the topic.

you were quite literally panicking, what if you just ruined everything? curse your slytherin ambition, you must’ve gone too far with your allusive comments. hermione hadn’t talked for about five minutes now, opting to finish her butterbeer, and the energy full of endless conversation dissipated long ago. your mug was still half full, sitting in front of you. you were just sitting there, staring at it, frantically searching your brain for something to talk about but you were fucking blanking. you were failing at pretty much the only thing you pride yourself on, and it happened to be the thing that got hermione to even go out with you in the first place.

once hermione was finished nursing her drink, you decided to speak now before she decided to make up an excuse to leave. “I'm sorry if I went too far, I do that sometimes and I made you uncomfortable, and i'm so sorry.”

then, she did the one thing you would have never even fathomed. she laughed. the girl was chortling, her head thrown back and when she finally came down from her fit she had tears running down her face.

“I'm sorry,” she said, noticing your eyebrows furrowed in concern “i've just never had someone apologize for complimenting me.”

you let out an anxious chuckle, “well you did kind of stop talking there, i figured i hit a nerve.”

“oh no! i just used to, um, fancy ron and he hasn't complimented me nearly as much in 6 years then you’ve had in an hour.” she stumbled over her words a bit as she spoke, evidently uncomfortable discussing her previous crush on weasley.

“well,” you dragged on, “i think you deserve all the flattery in the world.”

you swore to salazar slytherin himself her smile lit up the whole room, and your heart swelled when she reached over the table to grab both of your hands and link them with hers.

“how about we go for a walk, the black lake maybe?” the suggestion brought your attention to how dark it had gotten outside, you estimated that you had about an hour till the sun set. you smirked.

“I see you’re trying to snag a sunset kiss by the black lake, granger.”

your smirk turned into a full on smile as she got flustered once again, biting her lower lip.

“it's absolutely barbaric that you would allude to that, l/n.” the sarcasm was clear in her tone as you both erupted in a fit of giggles.

leaving the three broomsticks hand in hand once again, the two of you made your way down to the lake. you take off the sweater you were wearing to spread it across the grass for you and hermione to settle yourselves on. it wasn't very big, but neither of you seemed to mind as you snuggled into each other against the nights breeze. your arm making its way around her shoulder as she wrapped her arms around your waist and rested her head on your shoulder.

you two watched the sunset in silence. it wasn’t awkward like a few minutes ago, there wasn’t a need to fill it with dialogue, it was completely comfortable. hermione adjusted under your arm and turned her head to look at you, the sudden change in direction making a few curls get caught in her glossed lips. before she could even lift her arm, you were already there, brushing her hair behind her ear. your hand found its home behind her neck as you angled your head to brush your nose against hers, her lip unconsciously making its way in between her teeth again.

you took a sharp breath and spoke, “every little thing you do drives me wild.”

“are you gonna give me that kiss, or keep talk-”

you could feel her words melt away against your lips as you took action and pushed her head towards yours. her hands tightening around your waist and her soft sighs as your lips connect act as reminders that she wants this as much as you, and you are so damn thankful that she leans back in after you separate to take a breath.

and the sun sets with the two of you, hanging onto each other like you were each others lifelines, previous thoughts about your family or the stupid slytherin/gryffindor feud are long gone by now.

you decide that you can deal with all of your problems in the near future, because now you have hermione safe in your arms, and that's more than enough motivation for you to stay right where you are.

#kelly's 3k wc !#harry potter #hermione granger x reader #gender neutral reader #hogwarts #hogsmeade #this is my first like writing post so please be nice to me #I'm sorry if this is shit #i tried #plz give me constructive criticism #i need it

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justanotherpersonsuniverse · 3 years

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Game Master Akuma AU by crisisdparity

Xavier Duchamp was rather proud of himself. What he had before him was an absolute masterpiece of a campaign if he did say so himself. The product of over six months of study, research, and rebalancing efforts followed by two weeks of discussion with his five players to hash out schedules, meeting times, characters, backstories, potential character arcs, and getting them set up with a messaging app that was really good for sending discrete messages between the GM and the players. Valentine and her boyfriend Justin were onboard in an instant. Within days, he’d greenlighted their Half-Elf Bard of the College of Glamour whose spell list was 100% Illusion spells and Half-Orc Fighter (Eldritch Knight) who was focusing entirely on Abjuration as Rena Rouge and Carapace respectively. Olivia had spent a few days coming up with a Halfling Rogue and debating subclasses with him until settling on Scout. Along with some discussion over how her special magic item’s stunning and paralysis effect would work with Sneak Attack, the campaign had its Vesperia. Jeanette had gone back and forth with him for a week looking at various homebrew subclasses for her Gnome Artificer before they both agreed on one particular Master Tinkerer entry that would be balanced and do the character justice. And with that they had their Ladybug. Even Matt was on board with a stealthy human Chat the Barbarian using the Path of the Beast. The class choice was something Matt had insisted on (and that Xavier would have suggested anyway just for the high hit point totals given Matt’s history with characters dying) and he’d even come up with a backstory that Xavier felt was quite compelling compared to Matt’s usual efforts. Morally ambiguous, likely to be tempted by promises of power, but with a great deal of story potential to work with. Which was a relief. Getting a new player into their group to replace Matt was not something Xavier really felt comfortable with. There were too many unknowns with introducing a new person, far too many for him to risk his masterpiece on an unknown factor. He knew Matt. He could work with Matt. Despite the history. He’d put everything he had into this. Every known Akuma ever fought by the heroes had been made into a boss-tier foe. He’d carefully documented each and every power the heroes had shown to craft special legendary magic items based on the Miraculous. Hawkmoth and Mayura themselves were going to be the final bosses of his campaign. In response to criticism about the difficulty of his campaigns (he tried to make them fair, but still challenging enough to be memorable), he’d made several guest NPCs based on every other hero that had ever been called upon, statted out like player characters that might show up in a pinch to help. He even had a genuine Deus ex Machina that he was ready to use to get the players out of a truly impossible jam if they found themselves in one. Not always, but a few times at least. Enough to get them to the point where they wouldn’t need it anymore. —– It was thirty minutes in, right in the middle of exposition from the Guardian NPC, when Xavier got his first message on the app. Matt/Chat - Chat’s going to wait until everyone breaks up and follow Ladybug stealthily. Xavier/GM - Starting party conflict on the first session? Not what I’d advise, but it’s your character. Go ahead and make your Stealth roll now. Matt/Chat - <photo> 17 Xavier/GM - Yeah, that beats everyone’s passive Perception easily. You’ll sneak off handily without anyone noticing. —– “Jeanette, Ladybug is grabbed from behind by an unknown assailant. Roll to resist the grapple.” “Geez, already? Okay, what did my assailant get for their grapple? How screwed am I?” Xavier pretended to roll a die while consulting the message from Matt. “19.” “Okay, difficult, but not undoable… Crap.” “What’d you get?” “Nat 1…” “Hah! I rip off her earrings and claim them for myself! The Wish is mine!” “Seriously Matt?! What the hell?!” “Because it’s payback time! Payback for every character of mine killed in these hellish

campaigns!” “Oh, come on! You’re not the only person whose had a character die at this table! <GM> runs some pretty challenging campaigns, but they’re always fair!” “What about the time he killed Allric the Allmighty in a single round of combat?” “Dude, you tried to Leroy Jenkins straight into melee with a 4th-level Wizard that had a CON penalty. Even at full health you had like 10 hp.” “14!” “Not much better, dude.” “Guys, it’s fine. I can handle this. Okay, Matt. Chat the Barbarian managed to get the earrings-” “Yeah, Ladybug screams bloody murder when he rips them out. Good luck getting out of this in one piece.” “The moment Rena hears Ladybug scream, she bolts for the sound.” “So does Carapace.” “Vesperia too.” “-and with their current locations and movement speeds, I assume you’re all using the Dash action?, you’ve got maybe one round to decide on your Wish before they’re all over you, so choose carefully. And be aware that I plan to grant whatever you wish for in the worst possible way, just as I would if any of the others pulled this.” “Rena screams ‘What the HELL, Chat?! We’re supposed to protect the Miraculous, not use them for our own selfish purposes! Didn’t you listen to the Guardian? Such actions always bring misfortune upon those who misuse the Miraculous!’” “Because I am Chat, avatar of Destruction and I WISH THIS WORLD NEVER EXISTED!” There was dead silence at the table. “Matt… What… just… WHAT?!” “Hah! You like that?! How does it feel now that the shoe’s on the other foot, huh?!” “What the hell is your problem, Matt?!” “My problem? MY problem?! Do you know how much time I’ve spent making characters for these shitty campaigns only to have them turned into paste in one session?!” “Because you made primary spellcasters and played every last one of them like a barbarian, charging in headfirst without thinking! All of us breathed a sigh of relief when you revealed that your character finally matched your playstyle!” “I HATE BARBARIANS! THEY’RE BORING! I SHOULD GET TO PLAY CHARACTERS THAT CAN AT LEAST CHUCK FIREBALLS!” “THEN MAYBE YOU SHOULD STOP RUNNING THEM FACE FIRST INTO ENEMY SWORDS!” “NONE OF YOU COULD EVER HANDLE THE FACT THE I MAKE MORE AWESOME CHARACTERS THAN ANY OF YOU, SO YOU JUST LET THIS DOUCHEBAG KILL THEM OFF SO YOU WOULDN’T GET OVERSHADOWED BY HOW AMAZING I AM! WELL NOW I KILLED SOMETHING YOU ALL WORKED HARD ON, SO SUCK IT! I’M DONE WITH ALL OF YOU FOREVER!” “MATT! HEY! GET BACK HERE YOU JERK! MATT!” “Crap, I think Olivia might actually kill him this time…” “It’s going to take all of us to stop her from getting arrested at least.” Xavier just watched numbly as the rest of the group ran out of his apartment. Over six months of work. Gone in less than an hour. He’d given so much to making sure this would work. He’d apologized to Matt at least twice for every character of his that had died to get him to come back. He’d agreed to demand after demand just to keep a familiar face on board, never dreaming he’d pull something like this. He’d nearly gotten fired from his job trying to rearrange his schedule to fit with everyone else’s. They’d somehow, miraculously, gotten the whole day with no other obligations among any of them and decided to make the first session a true marathon. They’d meet in the morning after breakfast and eat both lunch and dinner at the game table before calling it a night late in the evening. It was barely 10:00 in the morning and the whole campaign he’d slaved over for months was kaput. He never noticed the butterfly landing on his custom Miraculous-themed Game Master screen and being absorbed into it. “Game Master, I am Hawkmoth. Few people appreciate the kind of effort that goes into making something truly grand and memorable. I shall give you the power to bring your entire world to life and in return, I ask only for a few simple things.” This was wrong. Hawkmoth was the worst of the worst. The kind of person who would be at home among all the final bosses he’d ever made for his campaigns. Heartless, manipulative, cruel. “Not

enough? Ah, but what is a game without players? How would you like to have the Miraculous heroes themselves run your great campaign? Surely they would be far more appreciative than those ungrateful peons that left you alone with nothing but the broken remains of your efforts.” He knew all these things, but the allure of bringing the world he’d spent so much time on to life… What creator could ever turn down an offer like that? “I, the Game Master, accept… Hawkmoth.” “Excellent. And in exchange, you shall bring me one of two things: The Miraculous, or the identities of their wielders.” “No.” Hawkmoth was silent for a moment. “I beg your pardon?” “I said no. I am the Game Master. I make the world. I craft the challenges. I decide the rewards. But I do not do anything for anyone. If you want these things, get them yourself.” “If you refuse me, it shall be very unpleasant for you.” “No. As Game Master, I decide the limits of all powers within my realm. And I decide that you have none over me.” And with that, he unleashed his creation over all of Paris, drawing everyone and everything within into his sphere of influence. —– Ladybug blinked the spots (ha) out of her eyes as the flash of light died down and looked at herself. She didn’t remember transforming, but she was clearly in her spots. Except her red and black superhero uniform didn’t usually look like it was headed to a steampunk convention. Looking around, she tried to figure out what had happened and her eyes landed on a familiar belt and pants combo. Problem. Whoever this was, their groin was at eye level for her. She looked up. And up. To find a grinning Chat Noir, sans anything resembling a shirt and having put on at least a foot of height and apparently a hundred pounds of pure muscle, grinning down at her. “How’s the weather down there?” Chat Noir chuckled as he flexed his unfairly attractive muscleman physique. “I WILL END YOU!” the heroine snarled, already 100% done with whatever new insanity Hawkmoth had cooked up. Characters: Ladybug - Gnome Artificer (Master Tinkerer - Homebrew) Chat Noir - Human Barbarian (Path of the Beast) —– Vesperia had to admit, as Akuma attacks went, this was pretty dope. She was currently a halfling. A halfling! If it wasn’t for her fantasy ensemble being yellow and black, she’d have thought she stepped straight out of Lord of the Rings. Of course, fantasy setting or not, there were still things she’d have rather left back in the real world. Like racism. And stigma against mixed couples. Not directed at her, but rather at the two walking down the street next to her. “You know, people are staring…” she said as she craned her head to look at her companions. “Let them,” the Half-Elf Rena Rouge (who looked like a cross between a musician and a belly dancer) said from her perch atop the shoulders of the heavily armored (and surprisingly buff) Half-Orc Carapace. “They’re just jealous because their boyfriends can’t carry them everywhere.” Characters: Vesperia - Halfling Rogue (Scout) Rena Rouge - Half-Elf Bard (College of Glamour) Carapace - Half-Orc Fighter (Eldritch Knight) —– Ryuko blinked as she studied the apparent snake-man-thing before her who claimed to be Viperion. She lifted a hand to study it and found what appeared to be bronze scales covering every inch of her skin. She sniffed herself, smelling the sharp tang of ozone. What was she? And why did she appear to be wearing wooden armor? Characters: Ryuko - Dragonborn (bronze) Druid (Circle of Storms - Third Party) Viperion - Naga Sorcerer (Divination Magic - Homebrew) —– Polymouse giggled as her friends ran over her. Okay, she’d freaked out a little to find a swarm of mice (with hair like hers no less) crawling all over her surprisingly mouse-like body when she’d come to in the middle of some forest somewhere. But she’d gotten over it pretty quickly. It helped that her new friends were adorable. It might help more if she could figure out where she was. Or find another person. Characters: Polymouse - Kobold

(rodentlike) Ranger (Swarmkeeper - Reskinned) —– Purple Tigress sighed as she felt the hair (fur?) on the top of her head being shifted around and twitched her new catlike ears in mild annoyance. “Are you quite done?” “Almost!” Pigella’s cheerful voice answered. “Your fur is so comfy!” Tigress sighed. Of course Pigella would end up being a fairy, and having her normal cheerful enthusiasm cranked up to previously unimagined levels. “I love you dearly, but if you start shouting 'hey listen’ I will stick you in a bottle.” “Aw, I love you too! Hey, what’s that?” “I think it’s my character sheet?” Characters: Purple Tigress - Tabaxi Paladin (Oath of Glory) Pigella - Fairy Cleric (Order Domain - Reskinned) —– “According to my analysis, we have been placed into what appears to be a Dungeons and Dragons campaign under 5th edition rules,” Pegasus stated in a mechanical monotone. “I am apparently a Warforged Wizard using the School of Conjuration whose spells create portals to bridge dimensions and summon or banish my intended targets. You are what is known as a Simic Hybrid, with the class of Monk, following the Way of the Drunken Master.” “Aweshum,” King Monkey slurred, his generally human appearance clad in monk’s robes marred by his monkey-like hands and feet as well as the monkey tail swishing behind him. “Why do you keep slurring like that? According to my sensors, your gourd is filled with only water.” “Gotta keep up appearanshes!” King Monkey grinned as he continued faking drunkenness. Characters: Pegasus - Warforged Wizard (School of Conjuration - Reskinned) King Monkey - Simic Hybrid Monk (Way of the Drunken Master) —– Hawkmoth studied the dark red horns growing out of his head in the mirror. The change in appearance was disconcerting, but he felt a rush of power in this new form that he’d never felt before. “Hmm… perhaps I can work with this…” “Speak for yourself…” Mayura muttered off to the side, ruffling her peacock-like feathers in annoyance as she tried to glare at the beak on her own face. Characters: Hawkmoth - Tiefling Dark Lord, Warlock Patron, Contracted by Lila Rossi, Volpina, Queen Wasp, and many others. Mayura - Kenku Assistant to the Dark Lord, Creator of Monsters —– “Oh, come on!” A figure in a cyan and white hooded robe complained as they waved a similarly colored umbrella around angrily. “Everyone else gets to be part of this adventure, why can’t I join them?” “Because you’re too OP. You’d completely break everything and remove all challenge from the adventure.” “But sitting around is no fun at all!” “If you like, I can put you in the position of the main quest giver. Your job would be to direct them towards their enemies and means of becoming stronger.” “That’s it?! I’m on 'mysterious hooded figure’ duty? Boo! Why can’t I fight with them?!” “Because you’re too OP. But if you insist, I’ll allow some Deus ex Machina interventions.” “YES!” “Five.” “I’m sorry?” “I’ll allow five interventions at your discretion to aid them when they are in peril. Once you have come to their aid five times, I will allow no more meetings save to impart quest information.” “That’s it?” “Yes. Choose your interventions wisely.” “So… if I manage to save one for when they fight Hawmoth and Mayura in the final battle…?” “Then I would allow you to join them of course.” “Score!” Characters: Bunnyx: Mysterious Hooded Figure, Deus-ex-Machina (5) Game Master: Akuma Lord of the Miraculous Campaign —– Addendum When the Game Master is finally purified and the damage reversed, it turns out that he took the effort to trap all of Paris in a temporal stasis bubble so that no matter how long passed inside no more than a few moments passed outside. Meaning that after what seemed like months in the bubble, it’s basically less than a minute after he was akumatized when everything is put back. All his friends, minus Matt, come back in bringing a new person named Zack that they vetted themselves to take Matt’s place in case he pulled something like what he did. And while he

has a similar playstyle to Matt, he’s savvy enough to know what kind of characters that is suited for and he loves playing barbarians. They all sit back down and restart the game they were all looking forward to.

—-

oh wow- that’s- wow. good job dude, seems like you worked on this a lot. Next time You should post this on your own account though, as this isn’t getting tagged or anything. Thank you though, you did a good job with this.

#submission

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